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hopefulatrocity · 1 year

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From The Ashes Chapter 3

Notes: Small Daryl POV this chapter! They will officially meet not the next chapter, but the one after, I promise. I’m already halfway done with it. I like to be at least one chapter ahead of my posts.

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CW/TW: Anxiety, beginnings of anxiety attack, allusions to past trauma/transphobia

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics & @omiyours

Banner by: @liminal-creations

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As soon as Pheonyx turned 18, he started donating blood. As a universal donor, he felt a sense of obligation to help in some way. Every few months, he found himself sitting in a sterile office, his hand gripping a stress ball, while a tube drained a unit of his blood into a bag. Blood that would likely save someone’s life in the future. So, when Patricia hooked him up to Hershel’s antique transfusion set–one needle in his arm and the other in Carl’s– Pheonyx felt like a piece of the world from before had been handed to him. It was small but–when the world was being taken over by walking corpses–any bit of familiarity helped ease the constant anxiety. The new world always sneaks back up though.

The chair beneath him was uncomfortable and he felt vulnerable with the tube sticking out of his dominant arm. If shadows were to show up, he would be exposed. He wouldn’t have much time to disconnect himself and then reach for his cutlass. He tried to ease his anxiety, by going through all the precautions he had placed in the woods and around the property. He would know before the shadows showed up. There would be enough time to prepare himself if the farm was attacked. To distract his thoughts, Pheonyx stared at the clammy face of the boy, who Rick said was named Carl. Hershel sat on the other side of the bed and took his blood pressure. The light hissing of the pressure cuff, filling the silence. Rick and the other man, Shane, had left a short while ago. Likely to discuss how to get word to the kid’s mother about his condition.

“Do you think he can hear us?”, Pheonyx asked, not taking his eyes from the boy.

Hershel was quiet for a moment while he undid the cuff around Carl’s small arm. “I’m not sure, honestly. Research has suggested that we’re able to understand auditory stimulation while in unconscious states. But I doubt we will ever truly know. I’m sure he would appreciate you talking to him, even if he can’t hear you.”, he answered honestly.

Pheonyx nodded and leaned his head back against the rickety wood chair. Another question bubbled in his mind, “When-When I was in the hospital, did I look like him?”

His stepfather was shocked by the inquiry. In the past 6 years, his stepson hadn’t mentioned anything in relation to the events that led to his need to move states. Those times were dark in every member of the Greene family’s minds. For weeks, Pheonyx’s life had hung in the balance. Every bit of prejudice and confusion that had still resided in his parent’s minds was forgotten and it made them take stock of their treatment in regards to their son’s gender identity. The world was already fighting against him, his injuries and trauma being evidence of that. Did they really want to spend their time stuck in their narrow minded ways, or did they put forth the effort to understand and love their son? It was an easy decision for them. They refused to be another bully in the schoolyard of Pheonyx’s life. Hershel only wished it hadn’t taken almost losing him, to truly appreciate his stepson and to find understanding in the Bible’s command to love without bias.

“Yes, son.” he answered softly, his mind drifting in a sea of darkness from the past. “When your mom and I first walked into your room, we thought you had already passed. You were so pale, you almost blended in with the sheets you were laying on, and you were so still. Your mother is a strong woman. Hardly ever cried. I’m sure you know that. Aside from Bethie’s birth and your Grandpops dying, that was the only time I ever saw Annette shed tears…”

Hershel trailed off, the pain from those days and the mention of his wife making his gut clench. He stood and placed the blood pressure cuff on the nightstand.

“You know how to remove the needles?”, he asked. When Pheonyx nodded, he continued. “You can go ahead and do that. We might need another unit in a bit, so I would like you to stay here. I need to talk to the boy’s father.”

Pheonyx began clamping both of the tubes connected to his and Carl’s arm, “Okay. If Maggie is going out to find his mother, tell her to come see me beforehand, please?”

Hershel assented and left the room, shutting the door most of the way. Pulling the needle from the ditch in his arm, Pheonyx reached over to the first aid kit that was sitting on the end of the bed. He grabbed some alcohol wipes and two bandaids. With those, he cleaned his own arm, placed a bandage on the tiny mark, and moved to do the same for Carl. It seemed slightly pointless to be cleaning the small puncture when the boy currently had a gaping wound in his abdomen. But it wasn't like they could take him to the doctor for an infection. If they had the means to clean a wound properly, they should. Plus, it kept his hands busy and allowed his mind to wander to those days in the hospital.

“I know you don’t know me. You probably can’t even hear me. But on the off chance you can… You’re going to make it through this. I just met you. Heck, I haven't even talked to you, but I can already tell you’re a strong kid. I guess you have to be, to survive in the world right now.” Pheonyx pulled his chair a bit closer and took a seat. Hesitantly, he took Carl’s hand and squeezed softly. Maybe it was to comfort the boy. Maybe it was more to comfort himself from the memories that haunted his mind. He remembered waking up in the hospital with a gunshot to his stomach–in almost the exact same place as Carl’s– and the pain from the wound was minor compared to the agony in his mind.

“Daddy said you needed to see me?”, the calming voice of his sister had him dragging his eyes away from the bed. Discreetly, he wiped the tears that had been forming in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah. Are you taking a horse to find his mom?”

Maggie nodded, “Rick says a little girl got separated from their group yesterday. They were up at the traffic snarl on the highway. He says they split up and his wife is with the rest of the group, headin’ back that way.”

Pheonyx mentally mapped the route in his head. “ Check the map I have hung up in the stable. The green lines are safe routes through the woods. Avoid the red areas, I haven’t cleared those yet. Red stars are the traps. I’ve been taking Koda out when I place them. If you take him, he should take the safest route around them even if he’s going full speed.”

Maggie stiffened, “Nyx, if Daddy knew about what you’ve been doin’-”

“We can argue about it later. The boy needs his mom.”, His voice hardened, “There’s a copy of the map I made, on top of the table by the tack room. Give it to the rest of their group. It might help them while they look for the girl and keep them from getting hurt on any of the traps. I’ll help them more whenever they get here.”

Running a hand through her short brown hair, his sister sighed but relented. “Alrigh’. Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, tell them to be careful of the barbed wire on the edge of the property.”

DARYL POV

Daryl Dixon had spent the majority of his life in the woods. Even more so since the dead started rising. When Sophia ran into the woods and went missing, he was the obvious choice to lead up the search. Rick and he had followed her trail as long as they could the day before but they lost the light and had to stop for the night. The little girl’s tracks had disappeared a while ago. She was light footed and he was having a hard time picking up her route. The whole group had searched most of the day. Rick, Shane, and Carl had split up to look for a while more while Daryl led the rest of the group back to the highway. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of splitting the group up. The more people searching for Sophia increased the likelihood of her being found. Being sent off to play tour guide to the rest of them–when he could be following the girl’s trail–just pissed him off. He was the only one in the group with a lick of sense in regards to surviving in the woods. Why did he have to play babysitter to a bunch of housewives, an uppity blonde, and Glenn? He should be the one searching for the girl, not Deputy Douchebag, Officer Friendly, and an 11yr old boy. Especially considering the state of the forest they were searching.

From the moment they started the search that morning, his mind had noticed something off about the woods around them. The distinct lack of shambling corpses was the big thing. The few walkers that they had come across were dead, their heads cut in half or arrow holes right between the eyes. Several along their path had met the same fate. Another odd thing were the traps scattered through the woods. During the first search, he had heard the tinkling of metal, but he had been so focused on finding Sophia and listening for the groans of walkers, that he had brushed it off. But not even an hour into the group’s search on the second day, they had found the first trap. A large tree was surrounded by sharpened sticks, stuck in the ground at a 45 degree angle. Dried blood covered the majority of the pointed ends. In the branches above the sticks, were wind chimes. Some were handmade, constructed of small bones or bits of scrap metal, others were the kind you could find at most stores. Nailed on the tree, blood dripping down the bark like trails of tears, was fresh offal. Possum and Raccoon by his best guess. Off to the side of the tree, a small 7x7 hole was dug. Only a few feet deep, the inside was scorched with the remains of burned walkers at the bottom.

Carol started hyperventilating at the sight of the bodies, thinking the worst had happened to her daughter. Lori moved Carl behind her while the others stared at the tree.

“What is this?”, Glenn finally asked, breaking the silence.

Daryl moved forward, crossbow at the ready, “Looks like a walker trap. Sound from the chimes draws ‘em in. Smell a’ the blood and flesh keeps their ‘ttention and lures ‘em onto the spikes. Hole’s for burnin’ them. Someone’s keepin’ the woods clear. ‘Splains all the dead ones we’ve found.”

Rick and Shane made sure their weapons were drawn, glancing around the area. The sheriff kept his voice low, “Someone’s livin’ around here. Everybody be on guard. We don’t know if they’re friendly.”

The gray-haired woman let out a small sob, “Oh god, they might have my baby. Or she could be caught in one of these traps somewhere. They could be burning her right now!” Andrea moved forward to comfort the older woman, speaking calming words and assurances.

After that, they walked quieter, avoiding unnecessary chatter. They passed 7 of those traps along the way, checking the hole at each one for a body of Sophia’s size. Some of them had walkers impaled on them, all grasping for the flesh nailed to the wood in front of them.

The ringing of bells had them all running towards a church, hopeful that maybe the little girl had found a way to signal the group. But all they found was speakers set up to a timer and a perimeter of barbed wire and spikes that surrounded the abandoned building. Several walkers were impaled on the spikes, slowly grabbing for the building when the bells sounded. Daryl quickly dispatched one with his bow, while Glenn and Rick killed the other 3 with hunting knives. The doors to the church were open, blocked by barbed wire and sticks, but the inside was empty. The only signs of life were the dead walkers on the ground, killed in the same way as the others they found. By that point, it was mid afternoon and they needed to turn back in order to make it to the highway before sundown. Daryl had intended to point the rest of the group in the right direction and keep searching, but Rick wanted to keep up the search himself. Shane and Carl opted to tag along with them. Honestly, he was surprised Lori cut the cord and allowed the boy out of her sight for more than a minute.

That’s how he ended up leading the others through the woods, holding in his anger at the talk behind him. They spoke like Sophia was already dead. Yeah, the girl was a bit weak. She was terrified of everything and had little knowledge of surviving in the wild. But she also had Ed as a father. A bastard who enjoyed putting his hands on his wife and child. As someone who grew up with a parent like that, Daryl knew that surviving those experiences formed a strength and determination to live in most people. He felt it in his bones that Sophia was one of those people. She was physically weak but she was whip-smart and had good instincts. Those things trump brute strength most of the time.

In anger, he snapped at the group, insisting they would find Sophia. The looks on their faces had old insecurities rising in his chest. The hesitant looks of people waiting for the dirty redneck to blow up. Granted, Merle’s explosive behaviors had certainly colored their views of him by association. And his violent reaction to finding out his brother was left in Atlanta didn’t help matters. Despite his efforts to prove himself to this group, his mind still insisted that he was useless and they’d turn against him eventually. The old voice of his father still haunted the back of his mind. Telling him that he was no good, that no one could ever care for him. Physically avoiding the memory of his father and the subsequent tingling on his back, Daryl turned away from the group and kept moving forward. His grip on his crossbow, white knuckled.

At some point they heard a gunshot. Only one. He tried to reassure Lori that Rick had probably just killed a walker, but even he knew that was a lie. Rick may be a bit naive to the world now, but he wasn’t stupid. Neither was Shane. They wouldn’t waste ammo or risk noise just for one walker. They continued to walk. About 100 yards from the highway, Andrea’s screams had them running. She had distanced herself at some point during their trek and a walker had snuck up on her. Before Daryl had a chance to put an arrow in the ugly bastard’s head, the sounds of hoofbeats preceded the entrance of a girl on horseback. Bat raised in the air, she brought it down and knocked the walker a few feet away from Andrea.

“Lori? Lori Grimes?”, she pulled up on the reins, halting the horse's momentum. Sweat was dripping down her face, making her short brown hair stick to her cheeks. The girl looked between all of them, waiting for an answer.

Lori moved forward, “I’m Lori.”

“Rick sent me. You got to come now.”, the stranger began to pull out some folded paper from her pocket.

Daryl, still slightly shocked at the sight of the woman riding in like some kind of superhero, saw Lori’s back tense. “What?”, she asked, her mind obviously snapping to the sound of the gunshot they had heard earlier.

“There’s been an accident. Carl’s been shot. He’s still alive but you’ve gotta come now.”, at Lori’s lack of response, the girl spoke firmer. “Rick needs you. Just come!”

As Lori tossed her backpack to the ground, Daryl moved forward to try to stop her, “Whoa-Whoa-Whoa! We don’t know this girl! You can’t get on that horse!”

His warnings fell on deaf ears though, the only thing on Lori’s mind was her son. She deftly jumped on the horse, settling behind the strange woman.

“Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?”, the woman asked.

Glenn stared at her, his eyes starstruck, “Uh-huh.” he said dumbly.

Tossing the paper she had pulled from her pocket, Daryl caught it, being the closest one. A quick glance told him it was some kind of map. He could see colored ink marked onto the printed chart.

“Backtrack to Fairburn road. Two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox-- Name's Greene–”, she glanced between all of them, stopping to linger on him and the crossbow in his hands. Almost as if she knew something he didn’t, a ghost of a smile curved her lips, one that was gone before it could even register for most of the group. “Key’s on the bottom of the map. Be careful of the barbed wire around the edges of the property.” With a flick of the reins pushing the horse into motion, the woman and Lori disappeared into the depths of the forest.

They all stared after the pair riding the horse. Daryl was angry Lori hadn’t listened to him but was also worried about Carl, if what the woman said was true. If god was real, he sure had a sick sense of humor. They’d almost been blown up a couple days ago, Sophia had gone missing the day before, now Carl was shot? You’d think that their quota of shit to deal with would have been met a long time ago, but apparently not.

A groan had the group turning their head to the walker that the strange woman had hit moments before. Map in one hand, Daryl used the other to lift his crossbow and shoot the geek between the eyes.

“Shut up.”, he snapped, needing an outlet for his frustration. Hooking his crossbow over his shoulder, Daryl began to unfold the map. He briefly recognized the layout of the woods around them but his attention was drawn to the detailed marks around it. The whole area was organized into a color coded grid. Some blocks were marked green for safe, the others red for dangerous zones. At least a dozen dark green lines indicated safe trails leading to a property a few miles from the highway. He assumed it was the farm the girl was talking about. Red stars were dotted along the forest and the locations of a few stood out. They stood for the traps the group had found. He counted at least 20 of them throughout the few miles of woodlands. Other marks indicated hunting cabins, farmhouses, old barns, and clean water sources. The hours of hard work and surveying that had gone into this map was evident. Daryl lightly traced the script at the bottom of the map, where the key was located, with his thumb. The scribble was slightly sloppy but still legible. It didn’t look like a girl’s handwriting, but also wasn’t the chicken scratch that most men he knew had. He was oddly fascinated by it, the writing and the map. Glenn and Carol tried to look at it over his shoulder, but Daryl quickly–yet carefully– folded up the thin paper and stuck it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

Grunting in a typical Dixon fashion, he walked over and grabbed his bolt from the walker on the ground. “Come on. Need ta get back ‘fore it gets dark. Don’ want the ole’ man to have a heart attack.”

With that, the group made their way back to the highway. No one noticed that Daryl’s hand kept drifting towards the pocket near his heart, brushing against the folded paper through the dirty fabric.

#daryl dixon #Daryl DIxon fic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x trans!reader #daryl dixon x trans!OC #daryl dixon x omc #daryl x omc #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd rick #twd

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uraniumwriting · 1 year

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All in the Details

For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt “Set the Stage”

I’m starting to mess with my wip Scattered Poppies again, so used this to take a look into Amaranth’s relationship with her mother! I wanted to do more but I’m very sleepy so this is it for tonight ^-^ enjoy!

~~~~

Everything was a spectacle when the queen was the one in control. For Queen Francine, every step must be planned, every gesture must have a specific purpose. It was a trait that had helped her at the negotiation table many times during her successful reign, and many nobles believed she had avoided war at least once through the art of spectacle.

For Princess Amaranth, though, that trait resulted in nothing but constant nagging from her mother. And the older Amaranth got, the worse the nagging became.

“You’re going to turn eighteen in a year, dear,” Queen Francine said during one of her nagging sessions. “When the crown passes down to you, you’re going to want people to think highly of you.”

“And I have a year, mother.” Amaranth wished she could turn around to face her mother, but her mother’s handmaiden had already scolded her for moving too much. “I don’t see any reason to act any differently at this dinner.”

“A year goes quicker than you think, Amaranth.” The click of her mother’s shoes echoed through Amaranth’s bedchamber. Just as the queen decided that Amaranth’s social script needed to change, she had also decided that the tapestries that had hung in her room since childhood needed to be swapped out. For the moment, though, there was nothing but bare stone walls. “This may be the last time you see the Rockridge family until your coronation.”

“You act like the king is going to let you step down as soon as I turn eighteen.” Amaranth didn’t even bother to hide the acid in her tone. It was no secret that her stepfather, King Clayton, enjoyed the power that came with his title. And while her mother was the one truly in charge, he made it known to Amaranth on multiple occasions that he would do everything to not lose his power so quickly.

“He will do as I say,” her mother said curtly. “Maxine, dear, could you have her hair up a bit tighter?”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Her mother’s handmaiden, Maxine, brushed through Amaranth’s hair and pulled it tight. All Amaranth could do was shut her eyes and tense her muscles to not yelp from the strain. “You’ll get used to it, Princess.”

“Do you need to go over your entrance again, dear?” Queen Francine asked.

“I walk down the main stairs exactly ten minutes after the last guest arrives,” Amaranth said. She knew it was best to just repeat her mother’s instructions instead of insisting she knew them. “Long enough to draw extra attention, but not long enough to actually seem as if I’m late.”

“And who do you go to first?”

“When I get to the bottom step, I walk to Lady Rockridge and greet her first.” Amaranth glanced at the ornate metal staff she used to help her get around, which leaned against a wall. “And if the young ones come to me, and I can both bend down and get up, I will be sure to greet them kindly.”

The click of Queen Francine’s shoes stopped. “And what will you not do?”

“I will not act inappropriately with Graham.” Amaranth rolled her eyes. “You act as if this is the first time I’ve been with my fiancé in public.”

“His sister will be here, as will her husband, Lord Merrytown.”

“And for having ‘merry’ in his name, he is nothing of the sort. You have told me that many times, mother.”

“Is this good, Your Highness?” Maxine stepped away from Amaranth, but Amaranth stayed still for a moment longer. She didn’t want to be scolded again.

“Perfect,” her mother said. “Amaranth, you can stand now.”

Amaranth slowly stood from the chair and walked around it, though she kept a hand on the back of the chair the whole time. Maxine quickly fetched Amaranth’s staff, and Amaranth mumbled a quick thanks to her.

“Let me guess, my dress for tonight has some important symbolic value that no one remembers but everyone understands,” Amaranth said. She tested herself with a few steps, just to make sure her legs didn’t decide to go dead on her while she sat.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Am I wrong?”

Her mother dropped her shoulders in defeat. In a way, she looked like Amaranth in that moment, if Amaranth had inherited her mother’s dark hair instead of her father’s blond hair. They had the same pointed nose, the same tired eyes.

After a long moment, her mother walked up and placed her hands on Amaranth’s shoulders. “One day, when you’re in my position, you’ll understand.”

“I’m not going to just do what you do.”

“You don’t need to.” Queen Francine took a deep breath. “But you’ll understand how important it is to have a system with these things. You need to learn to set the scene, dear.”

Amaranth didn’t respond right away. She realized just how exhausted her mother looked. The queen’s eyes were almost dull and sunken in, and her normally perfect presentation was broken by wrinkles in her dress and stray hairs falling out of her bun.

While Amaranth needed her staff because of her illness, she almost felt like she needed to give her mother the staff for a bit.

“Hopefully I do better than those traveling theatre troupes the king loves so much,” Amaranth finally said.

There was much more she wanted to say, and even more she wanted to ask, but she decided to give her mother some space.

After all, Amaranth was not yet queen, and she was perfectly fine with her mother being the one to deal with the details for the moment.

#writeblr #writing #original writing #writing snippet #wip snippet #Flash Fiction Friday #am writing

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kandadiff · 11 months

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Van Der Wulff : Love & Marriage

11 o’clock came and went and a cold anxiety set over most of the girls in the house. Especially when parents started to come into the house. After breakfast draven quickly got dressed, placed her phone on loud, and sat in the living room waiting for us to come in. Lighting a cigarette to pass the time. When we didn’t return by 11, her mind went deep in thought.

While it wasn’t normal I would just disappear to nowhere without telling anyone. But sometimes I did, but always with someone. She didn’t know if Damien and I made up, if so then maybe I was with him? But why wasn’t I here right now? Maybe Negan? Or I could still be with my parents and if they came and I was with them she would feel ridiculous for worrying so much.

As for you, this was 100% strange. You wouldn’t be with your parents. You couldn’t last alone with your mother or stepfather and as for your father. You could only stand him in hour intervals. No, maybe you were with Xavier and sent him last night to get something for you - but why would he go in through the window? If you were with him - you had keys. And if you were with him why was your phone dead? He lived in the dorms and nearly everyone had an iPhone charger. Plus she texted SOS and it was left ignored. That wasn’t normal.

Katyas family was the first to arrive and immediately noticed the mood shift in the house. “❄️what’s wrong?” He asked his daughter. She was now dressed in an dress and due to her nervousness she was clutching at the bottom of it, wrinkling the cotton fabric. She quickly filled her father and sisters in.

“You should start looking for them.” He said and Draven nodded putting out her ciagrette and standing up.

“I’ll help!” Marie, Katyas younger sister by 2 years piped up.

“Oh my god!” Naomi rolled her eyes walking out of the kitchen with presents in her hand. “Why just want to spend Christmas away from us. Don’t be so clingy, Draven.”

“Excuse me?” Draven’s icy tone caused Naomi to backtrack.

“I-I mean like, if they want to spend time away from us just let them.” She shrugged “I’m going to Namjoons.”

“It’s not about us spending time with us” Draven snapped “it’s about making sure they are okay.” Naomi looked down and sighed mumbling a pathetic apology. “You’re going to Namjoons? Check if either of them have been there.”

“Why would Adi be there? She hasn’t spoken to them since before they left? And Hoseok and Yoongi have a girlfriend- Kay wouldn’t here there.”

“Just check!” Draven snapped harshly at her causing Naomi to jump. She sucked her teeth and moved through the living room and out the door. For a moment it was silent.

“I’ll check too.” Katya said pulling out her pink phone and tapping a few buttons and walking to the kitchen. The doorbell rang and everyone looked towards the enterance. Makayla answered only to see Gabrielle De Silvia, her husband and Maddy on the other side. They all wished her Merry Christmas with smiles which quickly turned to puzzlement when Makayla asked if you were with them.

“No” Gabrielle’s smile faded. “She’s not here on Christmas? This is a family holiday! I slugged myself on a 10 hour flight to get here from France and she can’t even be here to greet her mother? Where is she? With that useless boy? Oh my goodness. Madison!” She called out to Maddy who was right next to her. Maddy turned “call the boy and tell him to get her over here right now! This is completely ridiculous.”

Draven rolled her eyes and grabbed her jacket. “We’re going to go look for her.”

“I’ll wait here.” Gabrielle waved her hand as though dismissing the girls and placed her perfectly wrapped presents under the silver Christmas tree. “I’ll wait for her here even though she is being completely disrespectful by wasting my time.”

“Other people are coming. Parents.” Draven said her voice dripping with attitude. “Can you let us know if her or Kay show up when we’re gone?”

“I guess.” She shrugged sitting on the couch “do you girls have wine? I need a drink.”

“I will.” Katya’s father nodded. “I’ll make sure you parents are entertained as well.”

“Thank you papa.” Katya said walking out the kitchen her phone in her hands.

“Ladies! Drinks?” Yo ur stepfather asked looking around.

Ignoring your parents, Draven grabbed her keys, passed Makayla and Katya theirs before moving out the door.

~ Mexico ~

Luther and I sat in silence. He had brought me food that I hardly touched. He tried to prove he didn’t do anything to it by eating some of mine but I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I just drunk the tea he’d given me, he said it would help with my throat which felt raw from all my screaming. We were sitting in the kitchen, though it offered me no freedom. Around my waist was a thick metal chain clicked in place with a simple that pinched into my skin if I moved to much. It was attached to the guest room via hook built into the floor. I didn’t ask why it was there - I didn’t want to know. Besides pinching my skin it wasn’t long enough to reach any door but the bathroom and the guest room. He had told me that himself when he put it on me.

“Just for now. Just for upstairs.” He said petting my head like some wild animal he had caught and was trying to domesticate. “I can’t fully trust you up here yet. But I promise it is temporary.” I said nothing in response.

While he ate and I drank i familiarized myself with the lock, touching it under the table trying to compare it to locks I’ve picked before. I was sure I could pick it with the hairpins but given the weight of the chain I’d have to do it quickly with as little noise as possible. Which in itself was difficult.

When he decided we were finished eating, he took my plate and cup and washed it in the sink while he whistled an old jazz tune. I focused on the lock. I did recognize the type but I would have to break both Bobby pins to even get it open, if it could work. Something sharp would be better, like a knife but he’d never give me one. And what if it didn’t work. I would only have 4 Bobby pins left. Besides he said this was only for upstairs. In the basement I could move around more and I could expirement with the lock there. Though he knew the navigation to the house better then me. He could more easily catch me if i came up the basement rather then up here. Plus by the lack of windows in the basement I had no way of knowing whether it was night or day- or whether he was asleep or not.

“You’ll just hurt yourself if you try and get out.” He said watching me and pulling me from my deep thoughts. For a moment I wondered if I accidentally spoke outlaid but then he motioned to the chair handing tightly from my waist. “The more you pull on the lock the tighter the chains get.” I dropped the lock, it fell into my hip and I winced. He wiped his hands of water and sat next to me. “Let’s talk, okay?” He spoke softly as though I was a toddler. I nodded.

"I want to explain myself further." He folded his hands and smiled at me. It sent a shiver down my spine. "I love you." he said watching em closely. I just kept looking at him refusing to give him anything. "And I was 100% serious. When I think of the future all I see is you and me. Maybe a couple of kids running around. I'd let you name them" he smiled as though it was a joke I was supposed to be in one. "Since you know I've had mine."

"And about Naomi? and your wife?" I tried hard to keep my voice level. Just stating facts and nothing more.

"Once she sees how in love we are, she'll come around. She's a good girl, she'll welcome you. I know Eli and Renee will. They knew my marriage with Whitney has been over for a while." His smile returned. "I've already signed and sent out the divorce papers to Whitney, she should be getting them in a few days. Then as soon as we receive them, we'll get married. Theres a small church near by and I've already gotten you a dress. I want to do it right. I want to be divorced before I take a new wife." My stomach lunged, thankfully since I had no contents in my stomach I managed to keep it down. He waited for a response but I didn't give him one. I was unsure if I could without a burst of emotion so playing with my hands under the table. I waited for him to continue. "Of course I want to do it right. And I'd like for you to walk down the aisle with a smile on your face and for you to be as excited as I am. for you to be as in love as I am." He reached for my hand but I jerked backwards out of his touch.

"Love? Love? How can you say that to me?" I was unable to hold my tongue. My voice shaking as I spoke and I felt tears burn my eyes. A mix of rage and sadness covered me like a blanket and I was using it as an armor. "You kidnapped me, you chained me up like some dog, drugged me, bashed my head into a wall and threw me into a basement. You took me 1000 miles from my family, from my friends, with no where and expect me to love you. You are a sick man and I feel sorry for you."

He took my words in, and for a few moments the world around us was silent. Until he yanked down the chain that bounded me to this hell house. The chain painfully pinched my skin and I yelped as I fell down on the chair. He tightened his grip and I tried to hide my pain, digging my nails harshly into my legs. He twisted it until I let out a pained wail and he clapped his hand over my mouth and nose cutting off my air.

"Feel sorry for me? Don't flatter yourself, you little bitch! You should feel sorry for yourself because if we don't get happily married by the time Whitney processes those fucking papers! Then you will just disappear here." He shoved me back. The chair skittering across the floor and into the kitchen counter. I quickly stood up and he stood up in front of me. He towered over me but I wasn't backing down. "Wipe that look of your face, even if I won't do it there is plenty of cartels looking for pretty girls to have fun with. Plenty fo brothels that would pay a lot for a pretty American girl."

"You wouldn't." I spat at him.

"Why wouldn't I?" He leaned down to me, his black eyes burrowing into me. "If you don't marry me, you'll be a stranger. And I don't care what happens to some whore I can get a couple of thousands for." We kept up eye contact "Think about it smartly, you brat" his voice dug into my ears like an unwanted parasite. "Think what they'll do to you. They will use you until you're bleeding out of your eyes and then after - if you're lucky they'll kill you. and don't bother trying to speak your fucking Spanish and convince them of anything. I already scouted out a few very interested men."

"How do you know they won't turn on you?" I hated how my voice trembled. "Kill you instead."

"Because I have connections that you don't have here, snowflake. I am the big bad wolf and you are in my territory."

The wave of hopelessness overcame my entire body and I broke looking at the wall behind him. I could no longer stop the tears that now flowed fretfully from my eyes. I needed to think of a plan but my mind felt like a tangle of wires. My thoughts all crashed into one another making a huge cloud of despair in its wake. "Then I guess... we're getting married." The words felt foreign in my mouth like I was watching myself say it.

"Happily?" he was baiting me but I didn't respond. I knew it upset him, his body became stiff and he pulled me toward the basement door. I started to scream again and he shoved me down the stairs. He yanked at my hair and squeezed tightly on my wrists until he threw me inside the room locking the door behind me. And shamefully I cried again. It didn’t quite hit me until then that he had no intention of bringing me back home safe. The hypotheticals he raised weren’t fantasies, everything he said so far was his plan and I had to get out.

~ Greece ~

Wandering the grounds of the mansion proved to be uneventful. Most of the servants seemed scared to look at you and every time you asked for something they either pretended to really couldn't understand you.

You searched nearly every room for a phone but you found none. No phones, no computers, only TV's that played everything in Greek. You managed to find that maid from earlier (who's name was Catherine) and asked her for a phone. She told you simply "sit still, girl. Your fiancé will be home soon."

You finally settled by the pool, looking over the ocean thinking of everyone back at home. How long would it take them to notice you were gone? Were they looking? Would J tell them you left with Shawn? How would Xavier react-

You jumped out of your skin when you felt familiar arms wrap around you like a hunting snake. Shawn kissed your cheek and whispered "god, your fucking beautiful" in your ear while pressing you tightly to him. "Merry Christmas, my love."

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dayeongi · 1 year

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Well-wishes

I saw the texts come in this morning as I worked.

They came from a number I didn’t have saved, but I saw a preview on the notifications. Words like “I’m sorry” and “I didn’t know how to handle...” and my breath caught in my throat.

Almost as soon as I realized who it was, the last text came in. It said “i’m X.”

I managed to swallow the trepidation and finish off an email to let the dread settle comfortably before I opened them. They looked to be long and emotionally destructive.

X had been my best friend since the first day of preparatory school. From the very first day I got to school 3 hours early because I made a mistake with my timetable, and she asked if I was always early, and I said yes, and then that was the last time I was early to school.

She’d been there for 11 years. Through my father’s death of Covid, she had brought a chair and sat outside my house, brought me groceries, and chatted with me through the glass window for the entire 14 days I was quarantined. And that made it worth the times she’d stood me up or let me down, or made me wait for hours because there was always something going on.

She had been there through my first boyfriend and first serious crush (which were two different people). She had been there through the abusive household I lived in, and I was there through her first serious relationship with a mutual friend, from the beginning through its messy end, I chose her every time, because I thought that’s what best friends were like. And I was there as much as she let me be.

Last I’d heard from X was in 2021, she’d told me she was in an unsafe situation with her stepfather at home, and asked if she could move into my spare room, and pay rent. I said come, don’t pay rent, just help with the utilities and groceries.

She said yes, and dropped off some of the things that same day, and she slept over. Next morning before she left for work, she said she’d drop by her current place and pick up the rest of her stuff after work. I said I’d wait for her to come back to order groceries so we could save on delivery fees and gave her my spare set of keys.

She called during work hours, and said she would be coming over tomorrow; she was afraid of her stepfather so she wanted to get her things out when they were out.

I said that was fine since she had keys anyway, and asked if she wanted me to wait to order groceries.

She didn't show up the next day. Or the next.

This was normal from her. She never kept her word.

I messaged just to check on her and ask if she still wanted me to hold off on the groceries.

No response for another two days. I started to get nervous. I ordered the groceries because I'd ran out of stuff, and messaged her again.

I let her know I could just take care of the delivery fees. No response for the rest of the day.

Then, a premade-like message. "I'm sorry, I can't answer right now, but I'll get back to you ASAP."

Like the ones you set up on your phone to be sent automatically.

I started to panic, because I didn't know her stepfather, and in my country, you can make people disappear with under 100 gbp, and she'd recently had experienced a situation almost like that with a taxi driver.

I thought, "what if I'm sitting here, thinking she's fine and just not getting back to me, and instead she's dead in a ditch somewhere."

My best friend of 11 years.

I called several times. Several being maybe 4 times in the span of an hour, which wasn't strange for us.

I calmed myself, and decided I'd been dumb not to check on her social media; I normally don't check people's profiles at all.

What I saw was surreal. I'd been there, sitting in my living room floor thinking my best friend was dead; she had been so urgent, and seemed so frightened.

During that time, she had been going on brunches, and on a roadtrip with her fiancé.

The change of plans itself was irrelevant. It was the lack of consideration. The shamelessness of putting me on hold without giving me a word.

I called her again. No response. I stewed on it for another two days, waiting to hear back.

Nothing.

I sent her a message. "I just think it's unfair that you asked me to do this for you, then left me waiting here to hear back from you for over a week, worried out of my mind."

No response that day. Or the next. I message her again. "Please let me know when I can go pick up the stuff (I'd lent her for a trip)"

No response, until later that day. It has been 2 weeks since she came to my house panicking about needing somewhere to stay immediately.

There was no apology. Instead she said she would drop off my spare set of keys, and she needed some space from me, and maybe one day we could be friends again once I was in a better headspace.

That she had no reason to report what she was up to every minute of her life, and that if it had been such a pain to wait for her, to not bother.

To add insult to injury, that she loved me and would be there for me if I ever needed anything.

I snarked back. I said things like "I don't need to know every single thing you do every single minute, and sorry I give a shit about you"

Then she took everything I'd ever trusted her with, all the times I'd been frustrated with my family and told her, and used it to say I was the problem, that I was the reason I always had interpersonal conflict, and the reason my life was the way it was, and I needed to reflect on myself and the shit path my life was taking.

She sent me her love again. My best friend of 11 years.

I didn't send her love back. I only asked to get my shit.

I will spare anyone who is reading the boring negotiations and promises she never kept to give me back my stuff, until she finally did.

She dropped them off at my place. It was raining. I awkwardly avoided looking anywhere above her hands; I knew I would cry if I did.

I thanked her as I closed the door out of politeness.

On text, after I'd closed the door after myself, she'd sent me her love and well-wishes again.

Like she hadn't riled me up and prepared me to help her. Like I was a wet stray under the rain she looked at pitifully.

Well-wishes. Hah.

I blocked her the very moment I saw them.

I hadn't hear from her in a while until a mutual friend shared the photos of her wedding.

She had taken the dream wedding dress design I'd made for myself, that I had so delicately and secretly shown her, and made it for herself.

I blocked every mention of her from everywhere, and over time I realized, I was starting to feel like a full person again as soon as I stopped constantly giving her everything.

I put my face on the desk.

Which brings me to today, and the 5 deleted messages. From an unknown number.

I pointed out I could see someone had tried to message me.

"sorry, I got the wrong number," she said, and I thought: how fucking unfair to mess up my tuesday and try to play me for a fool. How fucking evil and selfish of X to wish me a good day and try to deceive me into taking her well-wishes again. All for her own comfort or healing or whatever she was trying to do by messaging me on a fucking tuesday.

But, honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to X. Too much has happened. Too much time has passed.

I didn't want to be carrying around a piece of her anymore. So I pretended to buy it.

And X decided to text me back. "Sorry. I actually didn't get the wrong number. But I don't want to tell you who I am because I'm afraid. Regardless, I just want to wish you a good day."

Some part of me relished in the fact that she was scared. So I said "thank you, X."

I wanted her to feel what I felt when I saw her messages pop up on the screen, then disappear.

Maybe I wanted to fuck up her tuesday too because I'm also a coward.

And because I'm a coward, I pretended I guessed, but wasn't sure if it was really X.

"We can play a guessing game. I'm someone who likes to shop around for useless stuff. And I always scolded you for eating your fries before your burger."

And I said "so you're really X." Even though I'd always known, from the 5th, deleted message.

Bracing myself for impact, I read the messages she sent after. About how sorry she was about everything that happened, that she had been a fool and I'd been a great friend, and she hopes everything is going well for me.

How if I ever wanted to, we could go get a burger together again.

For a moment, I thought about saying yes. Because she'd been my best friend for 11 years. Because I was lonely. Because she remembered I like to eat my fries before the burger.

Then, I remembered how she'd known exactly how to hurt me and hadn't hesitated in my lowest moment, then skipped-off into the sunset with my dream wedding dress for a wedding I haven't been able to hold for myself. Apparently now self-reportedly with regrets.

How she had selfishly tried to give me unsolicited well-wishes to ease her own guilt.

Too much has happened. Too much has been said. Too much time has passed. The scar of the space where she used to be is old and gnarled, but a scar.

I replied, "I'm also sorry about how everything happened, and I always did wish you the best."

X seemed to falter. She typed and deleted. Typed and deleted.

She thanked me for giving her my time.

She said she hadn't know how to handle her own situation and emotions and everything had just gone out of control, and she'd done it all before she'd realized it, and then got scared to try to fix it.

X seemed to have realized what I meant by not responding to her burger invitation thing.

She said again she'd kept me in her good memories, and although she knew things couldn't ever be the same again, that she regretted it.

I thanked her, etcetera. Wished her a good life.

Sincere, I mean.

I'm not sure if I was sincere, this only happened today. I don't know what I'm feeling.

But I want to think my well-wishes were.

It's the best I can give her now.

I want to think I said it out of gratitude for those 11 years. For the time she stood outside my house when I was afraid I was dying every time I gasped for breath.

Of the time that I told her I was afraid I wanted to off myself, and she drove to my house at 12:35 AM and held me as I cried.

Well-wishes.

The only thing I'm willing to give her now.

#something happened today and I had to get it out writing #don't mind if anyone reads #dayeongi life #writing

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wedontburnbookshere · 7 days

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☆☆☆

I ended up a little disappointed in the pace around Part 3 onwards, but I also am aware that if I'd read this when I was thirteen or fourteen, I would have given this book five stars. I'd first picked it up, because the premise made me think of an old OC I'd made when I was twelve -- a vampire-witch hybrid who'd been put into hiding, because vampires and witches hated each other. It was also a Rapunzel retelling, which ticked off yet another love of mine.

So I really wanted to love this book.

I enjoyed it. The world-building was good, and I liked how the tenuous "peace" between the Erlanis Empire and Saren in the current day of the book's setting helps give background on the main characters Ava and Kaye. The former is Sarenian, her parents moving to the Erlanis Empire and the latter mixed. Kaye has always felt like an outsider, and she works hard, needing to prove that she belongs.

She is constantly under scrutiny, not only due to her mixed heritage but due to her mom being seen as a traitor. Kaye's mom, before she died in a vampire attack, had been heard empathizing with a vampires, saying that there must be another way than just killing them outright. Kaye constantly feels her mom's shadow over her, working hard to prove her loyalty and constantly feeling a mixture of grief and shame and confusion but trying to focus only on revenge.

I loved seeing her slowly open up, her walls cracking as the hard truths she knows about the world crumbling under her feet.

In contrast, Ava starts out meek, wanting a shadow to hide under. She's trapped in her room in the attic, the handle on her door pure silver so that she can't touch it without painfully burning herself. Turned into a vampire by her own mother at the age of fifteen, her witch powers were still strong enough to carry through so that she still has them even when undead. Her mother now keeps her locked up to siphon her magic, so she can keep pretending she's human while plotting the empire's downfall.

When her mother is away, Ava is tortured by her vampire-obsessed stepfather, who uses her for experiments to test a vampire's limits for healing. Any time she tries to tell her mother, she doesn't believe her, and Ava is left with only one option: to escape.

A big part of Ava's journey is a power fantasy, which is a reason why I think I would have loved it in my early teens, and I would recommend this book for those aged 12 to 16. She starts out powerless but grows into the most powerful vampire at the end of the book.

I found most of it fun or interesting to read, and the relationship between Ava and Kaye was sweet. Friends turned to enemies due to circumstances and prejudice and then betrayal, and as they grow, they grow closer again. It was a relationship I wish I could have read when I was younger, but I'm very happy it's here now for kids and young teenagers who feel like outsiders and wanting to feel powerful and loved.

#book review tag #from the book hoard #ya literature #francesca flores #i'm writing this at like 1am and don't have enough braincells to talk about my issues w/ the pacing #i'd also have to at least skim it again #i can't tell if it's the exhaustion or the book but so many things happened all at once after so many chapters of k&a travelling #through the forest that i honestly don't remember a lot of it #so i focused on the positives a lot more in this review

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bennys-rovanikka-sims · 3 months

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December 2140 AHW

When Niillas and Låttså returned to the Vides' cottage with Pyry in tow, the very first thing Ávdnos did was clear her and Niillas's bed for the dying young man, as he would need a comfortable amount of space. Since it was afternoon, none of her other children were using their blankets, so she started to do what her husband called her "magic."

Ávdnos slipped her son-in-law's boots off and lowered his hood, then removed his wet, nearly frozen outerwear. She found a set of Niillas's loungewear for him to wear; meanwhile, Niillas himself started moving other furniture around, clearing the way to transport the double bed near the fire in the corner of the room.

She eventually piled whatever blankets the Vides could spare on top of him, one by one so that he wouldn't overheat too quickly and potentially go into shock. The family's living situation was going to be complicated for a few days, but that was not high on the list of Niillas and Ávdnos's priorities. Even Låttså's sixteen-year-old sister, Márjá, who was wont to complain, kept her mouth shut for the most part.

The day passed with Pyry being completely silent but still breathing well into the night. Her mother and stepfather lent the couple their bed, allowing Låttså to sleep near her husband and easily check on him at night. In the wee hours of the morning the next day, he stirred some but didn't make a noise.

After her family woke up, ate breakfast with her, and went on with their daily chores, Låttså was left to lounge in bed with Pyry, still sleeping. She was grateful to have downtime, but she knew it shouldn't have happened this way. Now that the situation had calmed down, she was less scornful and criticizing of both herself and her husband, but rather just wanting things to turn out okay. All she wanted now was for him to recover, so they could return home.

At noon, she was lying on the bed, studying his facial features. His cheeks, hollow from malnutrition; his strong jaw and flitting eyelashes. She'd always been so dead tired at the end of each day that she never really had the chance to stare at him so meticulously. As Låttså did this, lost in her own mind, something deeply unexpected happened.

He turned toward her, quietly groaned, and muttered something, as his eyes fluttered open.

"Pyry?" she whispered, relief washing over her.

He smiled weakly, briefly lifting his head from the pillow, and then resting it back on it. "Hi."

"I'm never letting you do that again." Her words were firm, but her grip on his arm, underneath the sea of blankets, was gentle.

"What did I do again?" he groggily asked.

She gave him a quick summary of the last eighteen hours of trauma—their brief argument, his disappearance, her waiting out the storm and seeking her parents' assistance, then tracking him down in the wilderness with her stepfather. "Also, Niillas says, and I quote, 'Get your shit together, or he'll lay into you.'"

"Yeah, that's the last thing I need, I think," Pyry mumbled with a sigh. "No need to prevent me yourself. I learned my lesson."

"Good. Just to be clear, I'm not mad at you, and neither is my family. Except Niillas, maybe, but it's not necessarily anger. He just wants you to be sensible."

"I can do that... when I'm not pissed off and starving."

"Well, I think he wants you to be sensible, even when you're pissed off and starving."

"That's true," he said. "Like I said, I learned my lesson, and also that I need to not let my desperation get the best of me. Will Niillas be happy to hear that?"

She giggled, leaning into him. "I think so, and I'm happy to hear that as well."

Pyry held a part of the blankets up and asked, "Are you too warm under this?"

"A little. Are you?"

"Actually, yeah. I think your mother fried me a little too hard," to which they both laughed. He threw the blankets off the bed and glanced up and down at his dear wife, sensing how much turmoil she'd endured over the last three-quarters of a day. He wasn't sure how to express his shame and guilt at his foolishness that had begun to sink in, except with a fragile, "I'm so sorry."

#ts4 #the sims 4 #gen 1 #heikkinen family #bennys rovanikka sims

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tashakay · 8 months

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What I think of as Chapter One

At 11:11 am, on a day that would forever change my life, the world seemed to stand still. I had just given birth to a baby girl, a dream I had only conceived of weeks before her arrival. They tell me she was born gray, her first breath a moment of pure vulnerability. Meanwhile, I had a gaping hole in my midsection, a surgical necessity. The surgeon, in a hurry to close me up, lost count of the gauze he used after slicing me open. I was awake through this ordeal, yet my memory of it remains hazy.

In the recovery room, they finally brought her to me, this tiny new life that was now my responsibility. I remember scribbling in the paper journal my dear friend Anita had given me, "I still don't feel like a mom." It was there, in those early moments, that my journey into motherhood truly began.

Learning to breastfeed in the hospital was a learning curve, and during those five days of stay, I reveled in the attention and the feeling of being heard. But as I held my newborn daughter, I wondered, "So now what?" How would I navigate this new role? I was determined to be a good mother and build a wonderful life with her father. However, little did I know that our desires for that life would diverge.

I often describe myself as a builder, an employee who thrives on creating and moving on to the next new thing. It's a trait that may have been born from my years working temp jobs, which, looking back, I now appreciate. At the time, though, I yearned for the stability of a traditional college education and a long-term job like everyone else.

In those early days, I would often take my daughter for photoshoots, capturing every moment of her growing up. She was, and still is, a physically beautiful person with her sparkling eyes, plump cheeks, and luscious lips. She didn't intend to be my best friend, but she became just that. There were times when I couldn't adequately care for her, like when we had to move back in with my mother and stepfather for her first nine months. I longed for single motherhood, where I could work and care for us both, free from the judgment of others.

Despite the challenges, I cherished those moments with her, reading to her whatever I could find, from food labels to billboards. I remember the day she recognized the letter A on a billboard that read "TAILOR" when she was just two years old. Those small, precious moments bonded us further.

Our friendship deepened as she grew into a woman. Separations due to travel, school, and work often brought tears, and I feared missing something crucial. Our bond was evident, especially when she cried real tears for me after dropping her off at college. Knowing that I was her first love, and that she still loved me with all her heart, brought me immeasurable comfort.

I've witnessed other mothers of Black girls who were too hard on their daughters. I knew that society and culture would try to harden my girls, so I resolved not to contribute to that. In recent years, reflecting on my choices as their caregiver, I've acknowledged moments of regrettable behavior. But I'm grateful for the gifts of forgiveness and repentance, and my children's resilience astounds me.

I believe that as they journey toward healing, I must be a part of that process, offering support in whatever way they desire. It's a stark contrast to parents who defensively claim, "I did the best I could." I reject that notion. We, as parents, have a universal responsibility to guide and protect our children. They exist for us, not the other way around.

Instead of seeking validation for our shortcomings, we must acknowledge our role in shaping their lives, understanding that "doing our best" doesn't excuse harm or neglect. I set early goals to raise my children as happy, healthy, well-rounded citizens of the world, guided by my faith and the principles of the Bible.

I hope this revision captures the essence of your story while enhancing its readability and flow. If you have specific sections you'd like further refinement on or if you'd like to continue the narrative, please feel free to let me know.

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whitepolaris · 1 year

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One Child’s Story

by Lisa L.

When I was a child, I moved with my mother and stepfather from Waukegan, Illinois, to a small town in Missouri. From the time I first stepped into our new house, I felt uneasy. While not grand, the house was very big-an eight-bedroom former retirement home that came at a bargain price because it needed plenty of work. After my first walk through, I knew that neither of the two bedrooms at the end of the hall would be mine. They were ice cold in the middle of summer even though there was no air-conditioning.

On the first night, my bed wasn’t set up, so I was to sleep in a recliner in the living room. As I lay there trying to drift off, something made me open my eyes. And there it was-a floating blue orb about the size of a tennis ball! Frozen, I watched it float in and out of the kitchen. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night sleeping on the floor next to my mother’s bed.

Afterward, I couldn’t shake the bad feeling I had about the house. All of the bedroom doors had the locks on the outside, making me think the old people who once lived there had been kept locked in their rooms. And when I eventually found a room that didn’t freak me out, it was next to the woods-and I spent night after night awake because of the weird noises just under my bedroom window.

Despite the eerie feeling of never being alone, I began to feel more relaxed until something truly strange happened. We all gathered around the radio one evening, listening to music as we talked and told jokes. Out of the blue, the radio went off, and we assumed it had become unplugged. It hadn’t. Instead, the switch had been turned to the off position. I turned it back on. A few minutes later, the music stopped-again, because the radio had switched itself off. Did the spirits dislike the music?

As for those two rooms at the end of the hall, my parents eventually took one of them. Early one morning after we had left for school and work, my stepfather realized he had forgotten his wallet. Returning home to retrieve it, he opened the door to the room and immediately felt a cold rush of wind and something “pass right through him.” He told his story to us only once, said that the experience made his hair stand on end, and that he would never speak a word of it again.

We soon moved to a different town, and today I travel past that old house about once a year. And though it has been remodeled and looks normal, it’s still the same old haunted house to me.

#weird ghosts #type read

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pen-of-roses · 2 years

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Home

The idea of a home has always been something a little strange to me.

Over my four years at college, I came to the unsettling realization that I hadn’t really felt like I had one before, as every place I lived just felt like a stopping point but not the destination. Even though I had technically only lived in one place for most of my life. But I also hadn’t.

My parents were divorced you see, and lived in different states, and I only say my father for a handful of weeks out of the year. He moved several times throughout my life. by choice and never closer to me despite there being opportunities. He was wealthier, they were nice houses. He always tried to tell me his house was my home too.

It wasn’t.

My mother’s house should have been home. It was the house I lived most of my life in. It should have been the place I felt safe and normal in. It was the place I was most familiar with, and was a decent house for a small family, with a nice yard for our small dogs.

It wasn’t.

And I could never explain why.

Until I’m sitting here in this brand new cheap apartment I just moved into, with all these little issues, and see the wall decorations that I moved with me, and I hear the voice of my family when they inevitably come to visit telling me I should hang them up so it finally feels like home.

And realize

thats not what home is to me.

When I was a child, I used to get upset about my parents telling me to clean up whenever guests were coming over. And it wasn’t the “you’ve made a giant mess in the common areas like the living room and kitchen where the guests will be that needs to be cleaned” it was my room or places that guests probably shouldn’t even be seeing. It bothered me because I knew that guests coming over wouldn’t really be bothered by a my messy room or a few toys or games or evidence of hobbies sitting out because those were signs someone lived there.

Those were the things that made it Home.

I spent so much time watching my father try to construct this fake narrative of a happy family using my pictures as decorations in his house. Fake and staged pictures, ones that were taken by going to one of those photo places every time I was there, and never the photos from actual life events like trips or weddings or family events or holidays.

I had my bedroom completely redesigned without my input into something that wasn’t really me and made me super uncomfortable after I came back from one of those handful of weeks at my fathers, and I wasn’t allowed to lock my door because it would just be unlocked or commented on continuously.

When I went to college, all of my belongings were packed up and put into storage and my bedroom was redesigned again to be a guest room even though I still had to live there over summer and holiday breaks. When I had a college apartment, my stepfather basically put the space together how he wanted with little input from me.

And now I’m sitting here, thinking about the decorations I could put up in this place, that is entirely mine, and realizing. The fact that this is my Home isn’t in the fact that I own all the furniture and things in here, or that my name is on the lease or any of that. What makes it feel like my Home is that there’s a lego box propped against the wall behind the set. It’s that there’s yarn and half finished projects next to me on the couch. Its the bookshelf packed in a disorganized manner because its too small for all the ones I own, and the dnd books piled on the table. Its the box of tea bags sitting out because of how often I use it. It’s my work apron lazily strewn across a chair.

Its the fact that I’m allowed to have all this stuff like this because I live here and exist here and there’s evidence of that. Real evidence not curated for someone else’s benefit.

These things should’ve existed in the previous places I lived.

But they were never allowed because it was more important to look perfect to the eyes of whoever might be looking, even if that was some small child just coming over to play with me.

It’s strange though, that evidence of existence is all it takes.

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20cm · 3 years

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time to continue my room project ^_^ i'm getting rid of so much and it WILL be great

tl;dr i havent been in or slept in my room for just over a year for a lot of different reasons, and built up over the years. but im finally taking control and im happy:)

bc i kinda feel like oversharing rest is in the rest of the tags LMAO

#tw for abusive situations and stuff #----------------------------------------------------#---------------------------------#------------------------------------------------------------#-------------------------------#when i moved to the US my stepfather had set up the room for me and stuff and it like. over the course of 6 years really became a prison #both bc i stayed in it a lot for my own safety bc the rest of the house felt unsafe and also because i wasnt allowed to leave + what i did-#was regularly controlled. but it was like.... also never MY space #like my room was regularly checked. i kept most of the things i cared about hidden as best as i could but theyd be found anyways #i used to keep stuff in my underwear drawer but itd be searched through too #all by my step father to be clear #and i mean like. writing. journalling. drawings. idk what he thought he'd find like i never left the house bc he didnt let me #the number of times he went through my computer or my phone. he'd check my phone to make sure the texts lined up to what the -#phone plan would say like. Inbox/Outbox. and all the numbers. to make sure i didnt delete texts i guess?#theeee number of friends i lost because of his behavior lmao <3 #anyways what im trying to say is that i couldnt have a lock on it if i wanted. i asked. and it was never my space despite it being #the only place i had a semblance of control. and even then it was regularly taken away from me #and then i went to college. so it became more like a storage room when i was away ... and i also have hoarding tendencies #birthed from the fact that i tried to keep everything i owned all the time because i was afraid of losing it all #so its become a mess to the point that it gives me claustrophobia and it was unlivable. so ive been sleeping on the couch #but ive been cleaning and working thru the trauma <3 therapy on my floor. throwing stuff out!! idk. we'll see how it is when i just like #get the floor cleared LOL im sure i should still be throwing out stuff i have in hte 'keep' pile #anyways <3 its a process and im proud of myself #if u read all this thank you i love u #caleb.txt

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angelamajiki · 3 years

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[ a father’s love ]

PARING: StepFather! Aizawa x StepDaughter! Reader

SYNOPSIS: Your stepfather took you in with open arms after the death of your mother. Depression gets the better of you and Shouta promises to take care of you. But just how far is he willing to go to see it through?

CW: yandere, pseudo-incest, mentions of stalkers, mentions of death, depression, mental health issues, pregnancy, noncon, somnophilia, bondage, daddy kink, praise kink, afab reader

AN: my first collab with the bnharem server!! the theme was roommates (i ran with the term loosely) read the other member’s takes here! mind the tags as usual and enjoy!! :)

The death of your mother shattered you. A freak accident with a villain attack had her crushed under rubble from a collapsed building. Your stepfather, Shouta, suggested that you move back home with him after her funeral. As tempting as the offer was, you were determined to make it through University and handle yourself like a big girl, an adult ready to take on the world. You had only moved out a few months before her death, independence calling to you after you received your college acceptance letter.

A few months and an eviction notice later, you crawled back to him, the only remnants of your family. Open arms enveloped you, bringing you solace and comfort in your dire time of need. You felt like a child, bundled up in his arms as you sobbed, screaming at the cruelty of the world. Depression hit you hard and deep, flunking you out of your classes and preventing the bills from being paid. You had no other alternative but to accept his offer.

“You time and space to grieve properly, kitty. The most logical thing to do is take a breather.”

Ah, kitty. He always knew that was your favorite nickname, calling you that ever since you were a little girl. He also always knew just what to say. Patting your thigh, he stood up and extended his hand to help you up as well.

“Let’s go step up your room. I'm sure you need a nap after that cry.”

He gave a wrinkly smile before disappearing down the hall.

Skeptical at first, you were unsure if it was the right move to return home. You needed time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed. A break from life would give you a chance to sort things out, right? And Shouta was more than prepared to use this opportunity to show you he would be all that you needed and more.

The man was nothing short of doting and generous. A shoulder to cry on, a good laugh, a friend, a father. He helped you piece your broken soul back together. Whenever he wasn’t patrolling, he was at home with you. When your depression seemed to drown you, Shouta was there to pull you out of the water. He made sure you ate, helped brush your hair when it was matted, and got you into clean clothes daily. It was the small things that he did for you that helped your demeanor change.

—

“Up and at ‘em, kitty. Breakfast is on the table.”

You grunted, burrowing deeper into your bedding. A chuckle reverberated in his throat as he rubbed your lower back soothingly.

“C’mon, I know you haven't been eating lately. Let's get some food in you. I made your favorite.”

—

But as time passed, his help could only do so much. Your mental health continued to dwindle, plummeting into the ground when her first anniversary passed.

—

Gentle strokes of a brush smoothed through your tangled hair. Shouta was kind enough to help you when your head got matted into a rat’s nest, being incredibly tender and gentle with you. Tears streamed down your face, broken hiccups and sobs bubbling from your chest. You were trying to hold it in, he could tell. A sweet kiss was placed on the back of your head as he enveloped you in a comforting embrace, letting his hands sip down to your hips to rub circles in.

“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”

He was the only one that was.

—

The domestic dynamic the two of you fell into hardly felt like one of parent and child, but more as two lovers sharing a home they built together. The pair of you even adopted a new cat together in hopes of cheering you up. You can't say that you disliked it. It felt...nice to have your presence matter when it was a struggle even to be alive. Shouta always checked in on you; whether he sent you an update from work or shared a cat video. He really was the best father anyone could hope for, even when your depression got the worst of you.

Your depression started to manifest itself in many forms. Lately, you’d been having vicious nightmares, only to wake up with an unknown stickiness on your thighs. Recalling the night terrors was something that evaded you, but you knew you were being violated. Perhaps your body wet itself from the fear of the dream? It was the only logical answer you and Shouta could come up with. Depression sure had funny ways of physically manifesting itself. You thought that would be the end of it, putting the situation behind you.

It was until it started happening nightly. The nightmares only seemed to prolong themselves, worsening to the point where you could vividly dream of being assaulted. Your underwear was now soiled too, and it definitely wasn’t your doing. Fearing you had a stalker, Shouta installed brand new locks on your windows and doors, hoping to soothe you. He was a Pro-Hero, so he certainly had the means and know-how to protect you. It put you at some ease, but it continued to the point where your stepfather decided sleeping in the same room would help you feel safer.

It didn't.

The nightmares themselves only seemed to get worse, but Shouta was right there to comfort you as soon as you woke up shouting in a panic. He would take you into his arms and hold you until you fell back asleep. You felt like a child. But he didn't judge you.

After a month of strange behavior, the stress caused you to gain some weight. Visiting a doctor was your best bet to get an answer. He took you to your appointment, letting you hold onto his arm for comfort as his hand rested comfortably on your thigh. The two of you were mistaken for a couple by a nurse. What a strange, intimate relationship the pair of your tangled yourselves in.

The doctor ran some tests and had your blood drawn. The results were to be emailed to you in a few days. Shouta calmed your nerves with a tender kiss to the forehead, reassuring you that everything would work itself out.

The notification for the email came in a few days later while Shouta was at work and you were lounging in the living room. Patience was never your strong suit, so you took his laptop from the coffee table, only to open up to a camera feed. Coming from your room.

The blood in your veins ran cold as you looked into the memory drive of the feed. Maybe he set up a camera to see what was happening during your nightmares? That had to be it; how could you assume the worst of your sweet dad? The only saved footage to be found was him fucking himself deep inside of your sleeping body.

“I see the results are in.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He always had a habit of sneaking up on you.

“What-” You couldn’t find the words to describe your anger. “What the fuck is this!”

Disgust. Rage. Dispair.

Your only family left had turned against you.

“You were upset at the loss of your family, kitty. So I decided to give you a new one.”

He couldn't possibly mean…

“You’re pregnant.”

Bile rose to your throat as you gagged at the mere thought of his words. Pregnant? With your father’s child? His betrayal cut you more profoundly than your mother’s death ever could have. But it couldn't have made more sense—his touches, his comfort, sleeping in your room, the nightmares that plagued you.

“You’re sick!”

You shouted, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pummel insults and nasty spats at him. You lost your voice by the end of your rant, panting and heaving while sweat beaded your brow. He just stood there, taking everything in with a grain of salt.

“I understand, kitty. I really do. I should have been straightforward with my intentions.” He confessed.

The capture weapon around his neck snagged you the second you moved on the couch.

“Let daddy make it up to you. I'll make everything better for my pretty little kitty.”

It secured you to the sofa, keeping your legs spread and your hands behind your torso. On his knees in front of you, Shouta was ready to serve his apology with his tongue. Panties and sweatpants were ripped at the seams before being tossed aside.

He caressed your thigh with a delicate touch, pressing his lips to the other side. A kiss was pressed to your clit before long slow strokes of a hot tongue lavished it in attention. He kneaded your thighs gently all the while, humming as he began to alternate between licking and suckling on your sensitive nub.

Your head thrashed about in your binds as you shouted in protest.

“S-Stop it right now! Get off of me, dad!”

In a desperate plea, you hoped that hearing you call him dad would force him back into reality. Instead, he groaned and took a breath.

“Call me that again, kitty.”

A hot mouth sealed over your wet cunt as he dove his tongue between your folds while sucking with his lips. The pleasure was undeniable; his tongue was too experienced to ignore how his ministrations made you feel. Toes flexing and curling, you cried out of a mix of frustration, disgust, and humiliation as he continued to work at your dripping hole. This pig was getting off on the fact that he was fucking his daughter. It made your soul shatter all over again, the one he worked so hard to rebuild.

You continued to sob, moans now added to the mix, as he worked a finger inside of you. He made a curling motion after plunging in knuckle deep. A pleasured shout broke between your cries.

“I'll take it that’s your sweet spot, pretty girl? Good to know.”

He continued to abuse that spot, slowing down just a touch with his tongue to drag out the ride to the peak. Can't have you coming too fast, now can we? Your moans and whimpers spurred him on even more as he wiggled another finger inside you.

Removing his mouth, he focused on stretching and loosening up your tense body. You were lax when sleeping, so sliding in was a pinch with his size. But now he has to deal with you thrashing and struggling against his bonds. Disgust and pleasure churned together in your gut, feeling the incoming orgasm approaching hard and fast. Shouta felt you clench around his fingers and added a third, using his thumb to swipe your clit back and forth. With a final cry, you came on his fingers with a shout as your body convulsed in the capture weapon. You found what little peace you could in your short-lived post-nut clarity, taking a moment to breathe and center yourself.

Your father gave you no such chance to do so, immediately springing his cock free and rubbing the tip against your clit to gather your wetness. A chuckle sounded in his throat as he watched you twitch even more from the stimulation that was starting to border on being painful.

“Relax, kitty. Being tense won't do you any good.”

He slowly nudged his cock into your hole, groaning as he took his time bottoming out inside you. Praise spilled from his lips as he let you adjust, feeling your pussy clench tight around him. Good girl, good kitty. He shushed your sobs, smoothing the tears off of your face with the pads of his thumb. Murmurs of good girl and taking me so well slipped your senses. The pace he set was slow and deep, letting you feel every agonizing inch of his rather impressive dick.

Your flowing tears were kissed away as he proceeded to thrust faster and deeper. The sound of skin slapping against one another filled the room, even above your now weakened crying and whimpers. Sweat beaded on your brow plastered your hair to your forehead. His breath was warm against your cheek, his moans of pleasure so close to your ear forced you to stay in the moment.

Shouta swallowed your cute noises with a kiss, cupping and stroking your cheek with his right hand while his left pinned your hips down into the cushions. He did his best to stop your tears, pushing the hair off of your sweaty face. A few minutes passed filled with kisses, cries, and deep thrusts before he maneuvered you to be seated in his lap. Back pressed into the cushions, he lazily thrust up into you, hands grabbing your now bouncing ass. His thumb made its way back to your clit as he rubbed it in small circles, grinning at your cries of pleasure that you couldn't hold back. Dark brown eyes fluttered shut as he groaned and moaned proudly, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he felt himself getting closer and closer.

He usually lasted longer while you were sleeping; he does have quite a bit of stamina from his hero work. But something about seeing your flushed, torn face, hearing your whimpers and cries, he can't help but cum rather quickly for his own record. The pleasure was manifesting itself within you again, a second orgasm hitting you like a speeding truck as you gasped and choked for air at its intensity. Shouta was soon to follow, grunting and moaning loudly as he filled your cunt with his spend. He rode out both your orgasms, relishing in the silence between the two of you. It was better than hearing your broken, choked up wails.

It was wrong; he knew that. Breaking your trust, violating you, sabotaging your personal life, he couldn't help but be selfish with you. But he always knew what was best for you, always knew how to take care of you when you couldn't.

Foreheads pressed together, he caught your sagging body against him in a warm hug, stroking your hair when you started to sob uncontrollably.

“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”

#yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #yandere x reader #yandere

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babybluebex · 3 years

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retribution pt.1 [charles blackwood smut]

➽ pairing: dark!stepfather!charles blackwood x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.9k ➽ summary: after charles marries your mother to gain a massive fortune, he realizes that he married the wrong woman, and he sets his sights on the real heiress: you. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, thigh-riding, oral (f!receiving), power dynamics, step!cest, masturbation, yandere/obession (i think??), daddy kink, breeding kink, slapping, mentions of murder/suicide ➽ a/n: i know that is different than what i usually post, but charles blackwood just... hmmm he grinds my gears in the best way. so, enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio (and the sequel will be soon!)

From the very moment you laid eyes on Charles Blackwood, you loathed him. There was something about him physically that turned you off of him. Maybe it was the way his hair was just too perfectly done, the caramel highlights too pretty to be natural. Maybe it was the way his cologne filled your head, dark and lovely, but too masculine, like he was making up for something. Or maybe it was the smile that graced his pink and pouty lips when your mother introduced him to you as her husband.

It had hardly been a year since your father had passed, and you had no idea just how your mother could move on as quickly as she did. It had torn you up in a way that nothing else quite had. You had always been closer to your father than your mother and, when he got sick, you were left to bear the weight of what was happening. You went to visit him at the hospital alone and sat with him and read to him, and you held his hand as the nurses carefully turned off his machines. You guess that it was worth it, though; you found out that your father had altered his will and now, instead of his money being left to your mother, it was left to you. The only condition was that you had to get married to receive the money, going back to a conversation many years ago where your father tried to convince you not to go to university, telling you that the life of a wife and a mother would suit you better. You said that you would think about it.

“You’re not my dad,” you told Charles Blackwood. You expected him to be cross or maybe even hurt by your insistence upon that, but he smirked, as if he had expected that sort of answer. “I’m not gonna call you that.”

“Aw, that’s alright, honey,” Charles said, and he pressed his hand to your mother’s shoulder to stop her from scolding you. “I didn’t think you would. That’s awful, what happened to him. I’m really sorry about that.”

So casual, the way he talked about your father’s death. As if it was nothing more to you than a bad exam grade. You cried that night, locked up in your room, wanting Charles gone already. He was in the kitchen when you went in in the morning, sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, and whistling. He had the glow of a recently-spent man about him, and you internally sneered at the thought of him fucking your mother. “Hey, you,” he said, putting the paper down. “Let’s have a talk, huh?”

You glared at him, but sat down at the table all the same. You dug your thumbs into your orange and raised your eyebrows expectantly at him, and Charles pursed his lips. “I want you to know something,” he said. “I love your mom, right? And I have no interest in being your new dad or whatever. But I expect you to treat me with a little bit of respect, not any of… This.” He waved his finger at you, obviously talking about your current abhorrent pose. “I may not be your dad, but I’m still paying the bills and paying for you to go to university. So you’re gonna treat me like you fucking worship the ground I walk on. Got it, honey?”

“And what do I get outta this?” you grumbled.

“You get to keep living here,” Charles said. “You still get all that money that your father left your mother when he died. I don’t see what else you need.”

You scoffed. “Right,” you whispered. “‘Cause you only care about money. Well, Chuck, that’s fucking hysterical, that you think I’m even remotely like you. I can see past dollar signs and see what people are actually about. Anyway, I could care less about your money. I’ve got my own.”

“Doing what?” Charles asked with a dismissive laugh. “Waitressing?”

“You wish,” you sneered. “Mother didn’t get any money from Father.”

“All that money?” Charles asked slowly. “Where the hell did it go?”

“Into my trust fund,” you said highly, and you watched Charles’s blue eyes widen. “I have every cent of my father’s. All I have to do is get married, and me and my husband can fuck off, away from you.”

Charles stuttered for a moment, then said, “Let me get this straight. Your father left every red dime to his kid and not his wife? And you can only access it if you get married?”

“I told him that I wasn’t getting married,” you explained. “This is his twisted way of guaranteeing that I tie the knot at some point; soon, I guess. But congratulations, Chuck. Welcome to the family.”

As you stood up from your place, Charles’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, and you yelped. His grip was strong, veins in his hand exposing themselves, and his jaw was set with a rising anger. You could see the red flush in his chest and neck, and, as pleased as you wished you were, you were frightened by him. Your father had never grabbed you like that before. Nobody had. “What did I say about a little goddamn respect?” Charles asked through gnashed teeth, and he twisted his hand, pulling your skin and making you cry out in pain. “You don’t call me Chuck. You call me Charles, or Father, or fucking nothing.”

“Let go of me, you fucking bastard,” you hissed.

Charles’s face was red now, and he lashed out and struck you across the cheek. Before you even had time to cry out, he had you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. “Go to your room,” he told you. “Next time I see you, if this fucking attitude isn’t fixed, you’re gonna be really sorry. You hearing me, honey?”

You nodded, using every ounce of your self control to not burst into tears on the spot. You cursed him in your head, wishing for him to leave you and your mother alone. You wanted him gone, maybe even dead. Certainly nowhere near you or your mother anymore. Charles stared at you, watching you, making sure of your compliance, then he let go of your face and tugged you close to his body by your wrist. Confusion overtook you as he hugged you, but then it made sense when you heard the floorboard in the hallway creak. “I know you miss him,” Charles said, quiet but certainly loud enough for your mother to hear from the hallway. “And I can’t be him, but I’ll try my best. Alright, honey?”

He sent a quick pinch to your tender wrist, and you finally let out your caged sobs. “Hey, hey,” Charles said, shushing you in what could be mistaken for comfort. “No need for crying, little one. I’m here for you.”

When you finally tore yourself from Charles, he looked happy. The anger was gone from his face, and he smiled at you. “‘Morning, lovely,” he said to your mother, and he stepped around you to embrace your mother and kiss her cheek.

“What’s going on?” your mother asked, looking at you worriedly.

“Having a little heart-to-heart,” Charles said softly. “Said she missed her father, and I told her that I’ll try my hardest to be there for her.”

“Aw,” your mother cooed and placed a kiss on Charles’s lying lips. “You’re too good to us.”

That conversation seemed to change something between you and Charles. He was still an asshole when your mother wasn’t looking, but you knew not to tell her. She wouldn’t believe it, and it would inevitably just mean more trouble for you. However, there was suddenly something more with Charles. He seemed charming, as always, but you sensed something sinister underneath it. You knew that he was only after your father’s money, and he was now stuck with your mother when it was you who had all the money. You knew that he was mad at marrying the wrong woman, but he couldn’t do anything about it now, and the thought that your presence vexed him as much as he did you pleased you.

Except, as you found out one night, Charles still could do something.

It was still dark outside your window when you heard your bedroom door creak open. You liked to sleep with it closed, and you brushed it off as the house shifting as it settled. Your clock said that it was five in the morning, and you nearly got up to close your door back, but you smelled him first. Fresh from his morning shower, cologne still potent, Charles lingered in the doorway to your room before stepping in. You squinted your eyes to try to see what Charles was doing, but still trying to act asleep, and you watched him cross to your dresser, across from your bed. He carefully opened drawer after drawer, obviously hunting for something specific, and your heart dropped when he crouched to the bottom drawer and his hands came up to brush back his hair.

Your heart burned with hate and disgust as you watched your mother’s husband, your stepfather, pull out a pair of your panties. You had done laundry just two days earlier and hadn’t worn them yet, and you watched as Charles pressed the bundle of cotton to his face. After a moment, he stood up, your panties in his fist, and you quickly closed your eyes to feign sleep as Charles approached the bed. You felt his presence right by your face, felt his eyes watching you as you slept, and he whispered, “Fuck, little one...”. Then, you heard the zipper on his pants. Through your eyelashes, you watched Charles press his half-hard cock into his fist and begin to stroke himself, rubbing himself with your panties. He slotted his bottom lip between his teeth as he masturbated, watching you as you “slept”. “So fuckin’ pretty… Gonna be mine.”

You tasted acidic hate in your mouth, but you couldn’t make yourself confront him. To your knowledge, nobody had ever masturbated to the thought of you before. There was a tiny part of you that liked that Charles was so hung up on you, even if the dominating part of your brain told you how sick it was. Anyway, you hardly wanted to interrupt him and stop an orgasm and give him yet another reason to hate you.

Charles’s cheeks went red in the dim light of the room as his fist moved faster. Your panties were bunched around his cock, flushed and nestled there like it belonged, and you closed your eyes fully. You didn’t want to see him come. You didn’t want to know what he looked like. You moved slightly, adjusting your legs under the blankets, and Charles let out a quiet little grunt. “One day…” he mumbled to himself. “Gonna be mine… All that’s gonna be mine.”

His breath caught in his throat, and you heard the wet squelch as his cum coated your panties. Charles stood for a moment, watching you, feeling his cock soften in his hand, and he finally sniffed and stuffed the used panties into his pocket. He tilted his head as he continued to examine you and the way you gave little noises as you slept, and he smiled. Oh yes, he thought as he brushed a bit of hair from your cheek. You would make a good wife.

Later that day, you were absently wandering around the house. It was too hot to do anything outside comfortably, but you definitely didn’t want to be around Charles or your mother for the moment. Even though you hadn’t seen anything that Charles had done, his grunts and hisses were enough for you to know that he enjoyed his time in your room that morning. You had yet to find your panties, and your stomach roiled when you wondered if he still had them in his pocket.

Your stepfather called your name from across the house, and your heart dropped. As you made your way to his office, you decided to play with him in the worst way possible. If he was going to haunt you and make you miserable, you were going to do just the same. Charles was leaned back in his desk chair when you got there, smoking from his pipe. His tie was loose, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his gelled hair coming a bit undone. He looked stressed, and perhaps a little anxious. “Yes?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the doorframe.

“What are you doing tonight?” Charles asked, blowing out a mouthful of thick smoke.

You shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose,” you said. “Why?”

“I wanted to take you to dinner,” Charles said. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I would like to make it up to you, if I can. I… I truly apologize for hitting you. I have a short temper, see, and I’m trying to be better about it.” His lips were pursed, his eyes trained on you.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think that his apology was genuine. But he needed you on his good side in order to get your fortune. He was buttering you up. You sighed. “That’s alright,” you said. “Umm… I’d like that, I think. Would Mother be coming as well?”

“No, little one,” Charles said, and you remembered how he had called you that as he pleasured himself into your panties. “Just us. A father-daughter dinner.”

“Alright,” you said. “Umm… Would you be angry if I called you Father? I just think…” You trailed off and pretended to be ashamed as you played with the sleeve of your dress. “Maybe it would help me adjust.”

“Not at all, honey,” Charles replied. “Anything to make you comfortable.”

You gave him the smallest smile, and you approached his seat. “I should have greeted you with a bit more open-mindedness,” you mused. “I was being childish. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, because I… I just want you to like me, Father.”

“Aw, honey, I do like you,” Charles said, tilting his head. “You’re already forgiven.”

Your smile grew, and you leaned over to give Charles a tight hug. You could smell his strong cologne as you embraced him, and you made sure to give a soft little moan in his ear. “Oh, Father!” you started. “I can’t seem to find some of my clothes. Would you happen to know where they might have gone? Mother’s always on about donating unused things.”

“I have no idea, little one,” Charles said, and you straightened up. “What exactly are you missing?”

“Just a few sweaters,” you said, tracing the etching on the desk. “A skirt or two… A pair of panties with daises on them.” You gave a little laugh, and added, “They were my lucky pair and I just… Never mind, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, I mean,” Charles began, and he shifted in his chair. Your words had done exactly what you had hoped; he was suspicious and uncomfortable. “If it means a lot to you. How exactly are they lucky, might I ask?”

You laughed quietly. “Oh, Father, I couldn’t possibly tell you,” you giggled. “It’s not the sort of things girls talk about with their parents.”

“C’mon,” Charles smiled, reaching forward and playfully tickling your side. “If you don’t tell me, then I’ll assume the worst.”

In truth, the panties meant nothing to you. You couldn’t even remember when or where you had gotten them. But if it made Charles uncomfortable, then you would stretch the truth however far you needed to. You bit your bottom lip and giggled, and you said, “Fine, fine. I wore them the night I almost lost my virginity, and I… I just feel good wearing them.”

Charles straightened in his chair, setting his pipe aside. “You’re not a virgin?” he asked.

“I said ‘almost’, Father,” you whispered. “I still am.”

“Well, that’s not a bad thing,” Charles told you. His hands went to your waist and tugged you closer to him, and he carefully parted your legs with his knee. “Are you waiting for marriage?”

You shrugged. “Or whatever,” you said. “I wanted to do it, but I just… He wasn’t my type.”

“And what is your type, honey?” Charles asked.

Your stomach was curling with disgust, but you kept up the ruse. “I don’t know,” you whispered. With a sigh, you settled yourself on Charles’s thigh, playing with the collar of his shirt. “Just, someone who knows what they’re doing, I guess. Who can make me feel good without making mistakes. Older, I suppose.”

“What else?” Charles asked. His thumb brushed against your hip bone, and you shivered when you felt your walls flutter. You couldn’t possibly be turned on by playing this sick game with your stepfather, could you?

“I like dark hair,” you said softly. “Tall. Nice eyes.”

“So…” Charles began and gave you a satisfied grin, one like a wolf who had cornered his prey. “Me.”

“Oh, God,” you whispered. “I-I guess, when you put it that way--”

“It’s alright, little one,” Charles said softly, and he leaned forward and kissed each of your cheeks. “It’s alright if you’ve got a little crush on me. Tell me, honey: have you ever been touched before?”

“Yes,” you replied with a fake meekness. He seemed to like the more innocent side of you.

“Yes…?”

You swallowed down disgust, disguising it as nerves. “Yes, Father.”

“Good girl,” Charles whispered. “How have you been touched?”

“A boy put his fingers in me,” you told Charles, avoiding his eyes. “And his mouth on me.”

“Where on you?” Charles pressed on. His hand slipped down to your bare legs and let his fingers linger on the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Father,” you mumbled. “I can’t say it.”

“Show me,” Charles demanded, his face suddenly stony. “Put your hand where that kid had his fucking mouth.”

You let your hand rest on top of Charles’s, and you lifted it to your breast first. “Here--”

“Over your dress?” Charles laughed.

“N-No,” you laughed softly. You bit your lip as you guided his hand down the neck of your dress, and you shuddered at his warm palm on your soft nipple. Your cunt fluttered again, and you fully blushed when you realized that Charles had certainly felt it against his tense thigh. “Here,” you whispered, and you found yourself letting out a quiet moan as Charles groped at your breast. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying this. No, this was supposed to be torture for him.

“You like when I touch your tit like this, honey?” Charles asked, and you nodded quickly. “So good for your father, little one. Where else?”

You took his wrist and pulled his hand up to your mouth, and you placed a gentle kiss to his fingertips. “He kissed me,” you said.

“Did you like it?” Charles asked. He pressed his thumb to your bottom lip, and you took it into your mouth as Charles watched greedily.

You shook your head, and Charles pulled his thumb from your mouth. “What did he do wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” you whispered. “I just didn’t like him, I suppose.”

“Do you usually fuck guys you don’t like?” Charles asked.

“I didn’t fuck him, Father!” you said quickly. “I-I stopped it. Remember?”

“Oh, right,” Charles said in a hushed tone. “Saving yourself for the right person, who just so happens to have every quality that I possess. Is that right?”

“Father,” you groaned, leaning forward to press your forehead against his shoulder. For some reason, you didn’t entirely mind the smell of his cologne anymore. You didn’t mind his perfect hair. You didn’t even mind the wolfish smile that overtook his pink pout.

“Where else was that boy’s mouth?” Charles whispered. “Did he put it anywhere else? Or just on your pretty little mouth and tit?”

As you grabbed his hand, you realized that there was absolutely no going back. Your plan was set in motion and there was no way to stop it. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself, and you slowly took his hand down your body. You carefully lifted your dress and settled his hand over your cunt, and you shuddered at the warmth of his palm. His fingers were against your hole, the heel of his hand pressed to your clit, and you watched him lick his lips. “You naughty little thing,” Charles chuckled. “You let him put his mouth on your pussy?”

“I didn’t like it,” you told him quickly. “I didn’t like him.”

“Honey, I’m gonna ask you this once,” Charles whispered, pressing his hand fully against you. Even through the thin layer of your panties, you could feel every inch of his hand, and you bit your lip and tried to control your hips from bucking into his palm. Amongst other things, you were sure that you would get in trouble for it. “Do you want me to fuck you? I can show you how good you’re supposed to feel, little one, you’ll love me for it.”

You nodded quickly, but yelped when his free hand landed a smack on your ass. It truly hurt, and you whimpered when his hand stayed on your ass and squeezed. “Use your words, honey,” Charles said. “As much as I like the little dumb whore act, I wanna hear you beg for it.”

“Yes,” you said quickly. “Yes, Charles, please. Please, Daddy, please fuck me.”

“Ooh, Daddy,” Charles purred. “I like the sound of that, baby. Stand up and take off your panties, sweetheart.”

You did as he told you, shivering when the cool air hit your wet cunt, and Charles tugged you back down onto his thick thigh. The roughness of his pants made you whimper louder, and he sent a slap to your cheek. It wasn’t hard and didn’t even hurt, but you gasped all the same. “Keep your fucking cock-hole shut,” Charles hissed. “You want your mother to hear you fucking yourself on my leg?”

“N-No, Daddy,” you whined.

“Good girl,” Charles whispered. “Show me how badly you want me.”

“Huh?”

Charles took fistfuls of your dress and tugged it downwards, letting your tits escape. “I said, show me how badly you want me to fuck your little hole, babygirl,” he growled. “Fuck yourself on my thigh, and maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll bend you over this desk right now and fuck you ‘til you can’t walk. You want that, baby? Want your daddy’s cock wrecking your pretty little pussy?”

You rested your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, and you rocked your hips down onto his hard thigh. The material of his pants brushed your cunt and clit and made you bite back a whimper, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You hated the way that you were enjoying it. You hated him. Maybe you even hated yourself. But self-loathing could wait until you got off, because the pleasure of everything was too overpowering to focus on much else.

Charles’s hands roamed your body, touching you everywhere that he could manage. He squeezed your tits and pinched your nipples, and bolts of pleasure rocked through your whole body. That, added with the feeling on your clit, was almost too much, and you whined out. “Daddy--!”

Suddenly, his hand was over your mouth, the other clamping down around your throat. “Shut up!” he huffed. His eyes were alert, locked on yours, and his face was red. Was he really angry? The thought that he was truly angry made your stomach flip, and not in a good way. “I told you to shut the fuck up, why can’t you listen?”

You pleaded with your eyes, asking him to forgive you. It was important for your plan that he didn’t have any ill will towards you. You needed him to want to marry you, and to actually do it. Then, you would get the money, and you could find a way to stage a suicide before the money was put into his bank account. Then, you would have your father’s money, and live with just yourself and the fortune he gave you. But, in order to do that, you had to do everything Charles Blackwood asked of you. You had to treat this horrible man like the sun shined out of his lying ass. You had to make him want to marry you. Which, at the current moment, didn’t seem like it would be too difficult.

You mumbled behind his hand, trying to warn him that you were going to come, but he only hit you across the cheek again. “Not another sound, you fucking whore,” he said. “Fucking yourself on your father’s leg. So slutty. You gonna come? You wanna come on Daddy’s leg?”

You nodded quickly, and you started your hips faster. Your legs were quivering and you could hardly hold yourself upright anymore, and Charles took note of the tears brimming at your eyelashes. “Is this the first orgasm you’ve ever had, honey?” he asked. He seemed softer suddenly, and his hand left your mouth; the other stayed secure around your throat, though. You nodded quickly, and he gave a little coo. “Aw, my poor baby. I guess I oughta take some pity on you, huh? You’ve been good to me after all… Take off your dress and sit on the desk.”

Your dress hit the floor, and you settled yourself on the edge of Charles’s desk. It was a hefty thing made of mahogany, and you clenched your thighs together as Charles’s eyes raked over your entire body. “I know you’re not trying to be modest now,” he laughed. “Open your legs and show Daddy that pretty pussy.”

You bit your lip and did as he said, and you gasped when his eyes finally landed on your cunt. You were dripping wet, your slick glistening off your thighs, and Charles let one thick finger glide up your slit and collect your wetness on his fingertip. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he laughed. “You were really close, weren’t you? Let me guess, you want me to shove my cock in you, huh? Want me to fuckin’ split you in two and stuff you full of my cum? God, you would look so pretty, gettin’ all big with my baby.” He paused to suck your wetness off of his finger, and he gave a quiet little sigh. “Oh, God. Of course you taste good… So sweet, like sugar. It’s almost like you want me to eat you out, sugar.”

“Please,” you sniffled. You reached for him and pulled him in by his tie, and he slotted easily between your thighs. “Please, please, please, Daddy, want your mouth on my pussy, please, make me come, Daddy…”

Charles placed a soft kiss on your forehead as a way to placate your begging, and he whispered, “You’re asking so nicely, sugar. How could I say no to your pretty little face?”

You didn’t know what exactly to expect as Charles kneeled down in front of you, and you carefully pushed your fingers through his hair, through those perfect blond highlights. The moment his tongue touched your clit, though, you forgot entirely about how you were supposed to be hating him. You forgot practically everything that wasn’t Charles. He lapped up your wetness and placed a wet kiss to your lips, and your stomach clenched as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “Aw,” he whispered, his warm breath making your cunt flutter again. “You look so pretty, sugar, all fucked out like this. Can’t wait ‘til I can actually fuck you…”

And, with that, he dived in. He was kissing, licking, and sucking your cunt like it was his only goal in life, your thighs in his bruising grip. You had the instinct to clamp your legs shut, and you nearly did, but Charles pulled his mouth away just enough so that his lips teasingly brushed your clit, and he whispered, “Now, that’s not what good girls do, is it?”

“M’sorry, Daddy,” you whispered. “Just feels so good.”

“I know, sugar, I know,” Charles whispered. “You’re being so obedient for me, though. Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please, Daddy, I’ve been so good for you. Done what you’ve asked, please let me come.”

Charles sighed, looking up at you once more. “I love listening to you beg,” he whispered. “But you’ve been doing good for me. Go ahead, sugar. Come on my face, baby.”

The way his lips shined with your cum nearly made you pass out. If it were anyone else, you would have adored the sight of it, but, since it was your awful fucking monster of a stepfather, you loathed it. Still, you pulled him close and kissed him all the same, cringing at the taste of yourself on his mouth.

“What do we say?” Charles asked. His hands smoothed down your body, landing on your waist, and he tugged you flush against his body.

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered.

Charles smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “You’re welcome, sugar.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader smut #charles blackwood #charles blackwood fanfiction #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood smut #charles blackwood x reader smut #hehe whoops my hand slipped #and i wrote nearly 5k of awful smut

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shintin · 3 years

Text

Forget Me Not: Chapter 6 (Something to Lose)

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Description: Imagine that from the moment you opened your eyes into this world, you had no choice but to kill and shed the blood of others, that you had to fight alongside Toji Fushiguru and die with him.

What would you do when they force you to do something you don't like? When the torment of conscience presses on your throat, will you give up? Now think about a day that life gives you another chance; how would you use it?

This is the story of a murderer who seeks salvation. Will she find it in the arms of Satoru Gojo? Or will pain find her sooner than redemption and drive her out of heaven forever?

Genre: heavy angst, sad love story, maybe tragedy, violence, lonely hearts, broken souls, +18.

Tags/Warnings: mentions of child abuse, etc.

Author Note: Azrael (/ˈæzriəl/) is the angel of death. There are pictures related to the story at the end of the chapter :)

Song Recommendation: Abel Korzeniowski - Juliet's Dream

Chapter index -> Next chapter

Year: 2018

Y/N opened her eyes to a room full of talismans. Her body was sore, and when she tried to move, she noticed that her hands and feet were chained to the ground.

The walls of the room were made of stone, and candles enlightened the room.

She sighed and folded her knees into her abdomen, placing her head on her knees. She tried to rub her neck with her chained hand.

"Sorry, the rooms are prepared for our special guests like yourself. We know it's against human rights, but I don't think human rights apply to you, do they?"

Y/N raised her head when she heard the sarcastic tone. A woman with brown hair, a white robe, and tired eyes had sat behind bars looking at her.

"Don't bother yourself; I have slept in the worse places than here. I don't mind. I'm just sad that I woke up. Maybe I'm dead, and hell looks like this?" Y/N looked around the room.

"Do I look like Azrael?" The woman in the white robe raised her eyebrows.

"No, not at all. You look more like a doctor than an angel of doom, Shoko Ieiri." Y/N smiled.

"I see, you know us all ..."

"Yeah. If I wanted to survive, I had no choice but to memorize the long list of people who might capture or kill me."

Shoko looked at Y/N with a tired smile on her lips. "Clever choice!" Then she picked up another glass, poured a drink into it, and handed it to Y/N.

"I hope you are not in alcohol rehab."

Y/N smiled again and reached out to take the glass.

Unwantedly, both sets of fingers touched each other, and suddenly Y/N felt sadness in her heart.

Shoko's fingers tightened around the glass, her eyebrows furrowed, and she stared at the Y/N for a long moment. Then she released her hand from the glass as if she had woken up from a long dream.

"What was that?" horror was sensible in Shoko's tone.

Y/N looked at her hand first and then at Shoko. Her face looked sad.

"When you were a child, your stepfather abused you, and you never told your mother," Y/N said while tasting the pain under her tongue. Bitter.

"What? What are you talking about?" The woman with the white robe immediately got up and looked at Y/N with frowning eyebrows. "How do you know? Who gave you this information?"

Y/N lowered her head. She sipped her drink, turned to Shoko, and stated: "I'm a half curse. I absorb bad feelings. Sorcerers have bad feelings, unlike humans, they have learned to control them, but you could never hide it."

A bitter smile formed on Y/N's lips, and her gaze turned to the ground again.

Shoko glanced at Y/N, and this time, with a bit of hesitation, she sat down next to the bars and brought her glass to her lips.

"Because my mother loved that horrible man, and if I told her, she wouldn't believe me. Also, I was going to come to jujutsu school; I wasn't going to live with them. So I didn't say anything to anyone."

Shoko leaned her head against the wall and looked at Y/N.

"Sounds logical." Y/N drank from her glass again.

"You don't want to say that I made a mistake, and I should have told my mother so she could protect me?"

"I'm not a good person to judge others. I can only say that at that age, you made a choice that you thought was right. That's all that matters now."

Shoko stared at the ceiling. "No one had ever understood me like you, Y/N."

"Maybe because no one really felt your pain like me...."

Shoko sighed. "I wish you weren't a murderer and we could be friends."

This time Y/N looked at Shoko with wide eyes. Shoko seemed to have a thousand years of sadness hidden on her face, but a sincere smile could be seen on her lips.

Y/N said nothing and looked at her glass. If it were years ago, she would have loved to hear that someone thought they could be good friends. But now, a few steps away from execution, none of that mattered.

"If I were you, after killing so many people, I would rather kill myself than surrender to execution under the laws of jujutsu." Again Shoko's voice broke the silence.

"You're right. That's why before I came here, I was trying to get rid of myself at the sea."

Shoko coughed out in surprise. "Were you committing suicide? Why?"

"Isn't it clear? Didn't you say it yourself? I regret the way I have chosen to live. I have so much blood on my hands that I can't go back ..." Y/N looked at her hands in disgust.

"Why did you come here, Y/N?" Shoko's voice softened.

"Now that I think about it, I don't know. All my life, I've been looking for someone or something that would be so valuable to me that I will try my best to keep it, I never had it. How ironic that I find that thing just before death."

"How interesting~," Satoru said suddenly. The two women turned their heads and looked at the white-haired man leaning against the wall. He continued: "Excuse me for interrupting your sweet lady talk, but I need to talk to our dear prisoner about her options for execution~"

Shoko tilted her head annoyingly and got up. "Learn to knock, Satoru!"

He raised his hands in surrender. Shoko rolled her eyes, but before she could get out, Y/N called her. She turned and approached the bars in surprise.

"We may never be real friends, but ..." Y/N stretched out her chained hands through the bars towards Shoko.

She continued, "...like a friend, I can do something to reduce the weight of the grief that you have buried in your heart."

Shoko looked hesitantly at Y/N's hands, gulped hard, and placed her hand in Y/N's. As soon as she took Shoko's hands, Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and a moment later, she opened her eyes. There were tears in the corner of her eyes.

Shoko looked at Y/N in shock.

"What did you do? The pain of that memory is fading from my mind as if it had never happened to me!"

"I absorbed your sadness. It won't bother you anymore. You no longer need to sleep with pills." Y/N put her hand on her heart.

"What about you?" Shoko asked while she put her hand on her own heart, too.

"Don't worry about me." Y/N tried to smile but she was in pain.

Shoko looked at Y/N's with tears in her eyes. "Thank you, thank you so much, Y/N," she hurried out the door.

Satoru, who was watching everything, turned to Y/N with a smirk on the corner of his mouth.

"What unusual powers you have. Hmm, so talismans don't work on you, do they?"

"They do. Don't worry. I can't use my cursed energy here, but I must say that even if you put a million talismans here, they can't change my half curse nature, I have tried before believe me." Y/N wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand.

'She doesn't like her own nature, good to know,' Satoru thought to himself. Then he clasped his hands and shouted, "Well, dear murderer, how would you like to die? Jumping off a cliff? Fire? Bullets? Air syringe? Hunger? Electric chair? If you select electric chair, I have to call several places~"

Then he scratched his lips with his finger and continued: "Ahaa, and if you are looking for a certain type of death, you can say, I'll accept. You know, I'm such a gentleman~" His grin grew wider.

Y/N leaned against the wall and, with an indifferent face, said: "The choice is yours. It doesn't matter to me. If you want to torture me, I understand. After all, I deserve it. But, if I really am allowed to choose, I would like my ashes to be scattered in the sea."

Satoru took a few steps toward the prison bars, unlocked the door, and walked in. He put his hands in his pockets, leaned in front of Y/N, and stared at her face again, just like last night. "Too eager to die, huh"? Satoru said with a grin.

"Why not, I'm a killer. When I killed, I knew I would be killed one day. I have nothing to lose."

"Hummm, but last night it didn't look like that~ You really wanted to be beside Yuji Itadori."

Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. "His name is Yuji? When that boy was becoming the vessel to the king of the curses, where the hell were you that couldn't prevent this shit?"

Satoru pulled his head back. "Awww, angry one~ I was buying mochi. Have you ever eaten mochi? They are so delicious! By the way, if it doesn't matter to you, why do you even get angry about Yuji being Sukuna's vessel?"

Y/N pressed her lips together. Satoru Gojo was starting to walk on her nerves. She had to kill this annoying man when she had the chance, but she had sworn not to kill innocent people.

"Well tell me, why were you looking for Sukuna?"

Y/N looked at him with wide eyes. "Why should I look for a 1000 years old moron?"

Satoru looked at Y/N and laughed loud enough that his stomach started hurting.

Y/N folded her arms and looked at him with a frown.

He coughed a few times and tried to say between his laughs, "I shouldn't scold you, after all, you are a 500 year old grandma~, I have to respect you~"

And he continued to laugh.

After hearing Satoru, Y/N's mouth remained open. "Yeah, you're right, I can be considered a living fossil." She couldn't resist, and she started laughing, too.

Laughing from the bottom of her heart, the strangest feelings for Y/N. Probably everything was worth laughing at when she was not far from execution.

Y/N was still laughing when Satoru realized how her sad, gloomy face turned into a sun that could melt the winter into the summer. Satoru's heart skipped a beat. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' Satoru thought. He rubbed his neck in confusion. Familiarity.

Y/N, without knowing anything, turned to Satoru and said: "I don't remember crying because of laughter. I know it will seem strange, but thank you for making me laugh before death."

"Don't say that I took the virginity of your laughter from you~ In any case, you owe me one, because I'm not going to let you meet your fossil friends any time soon~"

"Han?" Y/N raised her eyebrows. Satoru looked at her with a childish grin and said: "The Higher-ups decided death is a grace to you. You must live and serve the jujutsu community, kiss their asses to make your mistakes right and bluh, bluh, bluh. In short, you're going to make a binding vow with me and remain loyal to me under any circumstance."

"And what if I don't accept?"

Satoru shook his head. "You have no choice."

"Why do I have to accept such a vow?"

"I don't know, maybe for avoiding death. With this vow, I'll be able to save you from Higher-Ups and keep you alive so you can live happily ever after~"

Y/N wasn't stupid. She knew well that the vow she was about to make with Satoru Gojo contradicted her vow with Sukuna.

If she accepts Satoru Gojo's terms when Sukuna eats his 20th finger, Y/N will be forced to betray Sukuna because of her vow to Satoru, and in the end, she will die. With her death, Satoru Gojo also will die from not keeping Y/N alive. And worst of all, all of this will happen if Sukuna takes over Yuji's body. No, she couldn't accept this miserable ending for everyone.

'Why am I thinking so much about keeping Yuji alive?' Y/N massaged her temple.

She turned to Satoru and said: "I don't want you to keep me alive. You may be the strongest, but many want to kill me, and you can't always look after me like a baby. Your stupid vow may end up biting you in the ass. Just promise me that you'll keep Yuji Itadori alive and won't let Sukuna eat his last finger."

It was the best choice to save everyone. She had to trust the sorcerer before her.

A smile formed on the corners of Satoru's lips: "Deal."

And just like that, the journey began.

A/N: The prison cell in the story:

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whereisten · 4 years

Text

Dinner for Two

A Yuta fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: A dinner at the high-end Osaka Moon leads you to the head chef and owner, Nakamoto Yuta.

Pairing: Chef! Yuta x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, smut, fluff, mystery, suspense, drama, crime, HORROR

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, verbal abuse, mention of sexual assault, infidelity mention, deaths, and big, uncomfortable twist (the ending is not for the faint of heart, I’m warning you).

(A/N): Hiya! Well, this is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy! Haha actually, this story was inspired by Yuta’s iconic tweet: “I will eat you”. Well, if that’s not a spoiler...Thank you so much for waiting. I apologize for the delay! Please come back later tonight for another spooky tale...Also, my apologies, I didn’t get a chance to proofread. I appreciate your patience. :D

_______

Life had dealt you some harsh blows but you found happiness wherever you could. Your management position at the vinyl store Neo Records gave you prime access to the best music in the world. Even if the employee discount was trash. You’d worked at the records store for a few months now. This followed you having moved out of your mom’s place. You’d lived with her and your beloved stepfather while you attended college but you’d had enough.

Your mom was a drug addict and her husband Scott only enabled her to continue her abuse. You couldn’t say anything to them because you were the child and they were the adults.

And, as they had always thrown in your face, they paid for a good amount of your tuition because financial aid and scholarships could only do so much for you.

Well, you’re twenty four now and still a child in their eyes. You couldn’t take your mother’s mood swings and Scott’s goading for her to thrash around and party all the time. If your mother wasn’t going to get therapy and refused your help, then you decided to leave.

You had a really good relationship with your dad. You’d wished you had gone to live with him but during your college years, he’d only made enough to send you some funds for your tuition. You appreciated what he could do for you.

However, now he was more financially stable and he wanted to support you so you could move out of your mother’s house. You’d live in an apartment not too far from your dad’s place so you could visit him as much as you’d like. It drove your mom crazy. She always tried to contact you and convince you that she was going to get help. It was a tale as old as time. She said she would get help but never did anything about it. Once she had you under her finger, she reverted back to her ways: skipping work shifts, neglecting household chores, and verbally abusing you. You simply texted her you were busy with work.

Your boyfriend Johnny has been a source of comfort for you over the past year. You’d met him at a club one night with your friends. You told him you didn’t want to go home that night and asked him if you could stay over. Looking back on it, you had been too trusting but Johnny had treated you kindly: he let you take his bed while he slept on the couch. He made you breakfast in the morning: banana pancakes and scrambled eggs. You had sex with him the morning after and you’d been inseparable ever since.

These past few weeks, Johnny had been busier at his new job at a marketing firm. You two were supposed to have a date night tonight but he cancelled two hours before you were to meet at Hal’s Pizzeria for dinner. After that, you were supposed to go to the movies together. You were always a big fan of the dinner and movie date.

You sat on the couch in your living room, feeling a little blue that Johnny was working overtime. So you scrolled through your phone while you watched episodes of an English-dubbed anime about volleyball.

You texted your best friend Carla about how Johnny cancelled at the last minute and she replied: Since you don’t have plans, then I have an opportunity for you.

You texted back, What’s up?

She replied, I had a reservation at Osaka Moon for tonight but I got called in for work. Wanna go? The owner is supposed to be hot as fuck.

You replied, Okay, want me to get his number for you?

She texted, Unnecessary. Thanks, y/n. We’ll go together next time.

_______

Osaka Moon was a high-end restaurant all your friends told you about. You decided to go on your own to the restaurant and have a date night with yourself. Being alone could be tranquil, you assured yourself. And you didn’t have to worry about looking so graceful as you ate so this could be great.

You dolled yourself up in a pale pink dress and some white wedges. It was an understated but elegant look. It was an expensive restaurant so you decided to go all out. You entered the Japanese restaurant and gave the hostess your friend’s name. She immediately sat you down at a table that overlooked the bay. It was a spectacular view. No wonder Carla didn’t want this reservation to go to waste.

It was a shame Johnny couldn’t be here with you right now. This place was so romantic. There were indoor fountains with koi fish swimming around. The ceiling was painted in shades of the sunset with birds flying through the clouds. The aroma of grilled meat and vegetables made you salivate.

A waiter took your order and you took out your phone to take pictures of the restaurant and the view. You wondered if you would catch a glimpse of the chef your friend had mentioned.

As you move your camera around the restaurant to get a wider shot of the place, you recognize someone through your phone. Johnny’s hair was slicked back and he was wearing your favorite suit of his: navy blue with a ruby red colored tie. His height made him stick out like a sore thumb. The sight before you made you wish he’d be a little taller so his head could hit the ceiling. For the sight left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Johnny had arrived at Osaka Moon with another woman. She was generically pretty and you hated her even more. She looked like the mean blonde girl of every early 2000s romantic comedy. She wore a revealing dress that exposed her cleavage very nicely. Why were you paying so much attention to her cleavage? Because of the necklace around her neck: a necklace that looked identical to the one Johnny gifted you last year. It was a rose gold pendant with a rose at the center. Johnny kissed the woman’s lips as he sat her down at the table. She placed her hands against his slimy face.

Son of a-

Hot tears started rushing down your face. You were sure your mascara was running. You gripped your glass of wine tightly. You were surprised you didn’t break the glass then and there.

First off, you went to the restroom and checked your makeup. A little mascara had run down your cheeks. You fixed your makeup and took a few deep breaths. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red. What were you going to do now? There was a chance he’d see you and you didn’t want to see the stupid look on his face when he realized he’d been found out.

And you didn’t want to imagine what other reaction he could have. All of this happening in such an extravagant place made you seethe.

Johnny made a fool out of you and his infidelity carved a hole so deeply into your heart, you wanted to scream. So you took a few more minutes to collect yourself. You imagined your entree would be out soon enough anyway. You quickly realized what you needed to do.

You made a beeline for the entrance of the restaurant and approached the first staff member you saw. He was a slender and striking young man. His long brown hair was tied up in a bun. His chiseled face made everyone’s heads turn. His heart shaped lips were perfect. And…

Why were you thinking all of these things when you’d just been cheated on?

Wait a second…

Why couldn’t you think this way? As of ten minutes ago, your relationship with Johnny was over.

The handsome man was talking to one of the hostesses. The hostess was biting her lips and making googly eyes at him. This was awkward but you were resolved to ask him for help.

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”

He turned around and eye contact with him nearly sent you into the stratosphere. His eyes were the deepest brown and when he looked at you, you felt like you were his world.

His eyes were that intense.

“How can I help you?” He smiled, his perfect set of teeth greeted you.

“Hi...Um, what’s your name?” You start, awkward at the start.

He smiled even wider, “Yuta, miss. And yours?”

“I’m y/n. Can I make a special request?”

You didn’t know it then but Yuta watched you enter the restaurant earlier. He was stunned by your beauty and your smile. You looked like a princess as you entered his castle. He saw the wonderstruck look on your face as you were led to your table. He’d never seen someone so happy to enter his restaurant. The young man before you was the owner of Osaka Moon: Nakamoto Yuta.

So for you to come up to him and ask him for a favor? He was more than happy to oblige.

Yuta noticed how red your eyes looked and was concerned. He wondered what transpired when he had to go check on the kitchen staff and couldn’t keep admiring you.

Although your eyes had been red, there was determination in them, he noted.

“Of course,” he said as you moved closer to him and whispered in his ear, making you both a little hot and bothered instantly. You both felt a spark from the moment you met eyes.

Snap out of it, you told yourself. He was very attractive, yes, but your heart had been ripped out of your chest. You wanted revenge. You had to remember why you were talking to this fine man in the first place.

_______

You sat back at your table, undetected by the clusterfuck of a man you used to call your boyfriend. You made sure to focus on your meal, which had been orgasmic. The dish was called Okonomiyaki, a pancake with sliced pork belly and cabbage. The okonomiyaki sauce, Japanese mayonnaise, and dried bonito shavings sealed this dish as one of the best meals you’d ever had. Your compliments to the chef, whoever they were.

You realized it was go-time when the handsome staff member brought the food out for Johnny and his date. All eyes were on the young man who said he would help you. You wondered why. Has your plan been found out?

The young man deposited the dishes to Johnny’s table. His radiant smile never slipped from his face. Incredible, you thought. After what you told him about Johnny, he looked like he was about to pounce on him right then. Even so, he looked attentively at you and accepted your request.

“Here you are,” Yuta said as he put down the plates of sushi in front of Johnny and Blondie. “And a special treat from our chef…”

Johnny and his date oohed and ahhed over their plates. Until the young man deposited a plate that had sauce spelling “Cheater, Liar, Bastard” on it.

“This dish is for you, sir. Have a pleasant evening with Girlfriend Number Two, you son of a bitch.” Yuta gritted his teeth at Johnny. The expression on Yuta’s face then both terrified and aroused you.

Humiliating your cheating boyfriend and standing up for you...It brought a smile to your face.

Even if you still wanted to cry.

Johnny glared up at Yuta, “What the hell is-” He then does what he never does and THINKS. He panics and scans the restaurant, looking for you. He finds you seated at your table. You raise your glass at him as you take a sip of your wine. You flip the bird at him in the process.

He stands up from his table and runs over to your table. “Y/n…”

The other woman is right behind Johnny and simply laughs. “This is her? From the way you talked about her, I expected a real threat...but it’s nice to see that I have nothing to worry about.”

So she knew? She was in on this? You mimicked the blonde’s laugh. “Oh, fuck off...both of you…How long have been together?”

“Three months,” the blonde smirked.

That hurt. A lot. Johnny must’ve started seeing Blondie around the time you’d celebrated your one year anniversary with him.

You guessed one year was his expiration date for relationships.

“Go…” You started. “Have a nice blissful year together. In nine months or so, he’ll find someone shiny and new..”

Johnny was at a loss for words. “Y/n, I am so-”

“Are you sorry?” You rolled your eyes. “Go to hell, Johnny!” You couldn’t hold back anymore as the tears came out.

Yuta came up behind Johnny and his date. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“How dare you?” Blondie asked. “I want to speak to your manager-”

Yuta crossed his arms as his lips quirked up. “You’re looking at him.”

The three of you stared at him with your jaws to the floor. This was news to you. You’d ask the restaurant owner for a favor? The audacity you had…

Your face heated up in embarrassment.

Yuta called over a few security guards to escort Johnny and his date out. Johnny couldn’t even look at you. A fucking coward. His other girl had more balls than he did.

Yuta put a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to speak to you. “Are you okay?” His anger dissipated at the sight of your tears.

You sniffled. “Yeah...Thank you...I-I’m so sorry for bothering you...I didn’t know you were the owner of this place…”

He squeezed your shoulder. “I was happy to help…”

You laughed. “You scared the crap out of me when you called him a son of a bitch.”

He played around with you. “Ah, you liked that? I’ve been working on my crime lord act...How do you think it’s coming along?”

You wiped your tears with your napkin. “Pretty good.”

You both laughed.

“Well, y/n...I hope you have a wonderful rest of the night.” He tipped his imaginary hat and walked away.

As you finished your meal, your waiter brought you a bowl of green tea mochi ice cream.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you started.

The waiter replied, “Courtesy of the boss, miss. Please let us know if there is anything else you would like. Your meal is on the house.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked in shock.

The waiter smiled. “Just following the boss’ orders.”

This night may have begun on a sour note but at least you could end it at this incredible place. And you were pretty sure you’d met a real life knight in shining armor tonight...

Before you left the restaurant, the hostess, annoyed, handed you an envelope. “Here.”

“What is it?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

The hostess sighed. “The golden ticket. Have a good night, miss.” She returned to her stand with her coworkers.

You walked out the door and left Osaka Moon. You opened the envelope and found a handwritten letter.

y/n,

I’ll be upfront with you. I wanted to ask you out the minute you walked into Osaka Moon. But then I found out you had a boyfriend. And right after that, I found out he was a cheating piece of shit...So I’m at a crossroads here...Can I see you again? If yes, please call me at 555-127-1026.

Yours,

Yuta

P.S. The green tea mochi was good, wasn’t it?

_______

A week had passed. You and Yuta have been texting non-stop. He invited you to his restaurant to have dinner. The beef tenderloin he’d served you was out of this world. He made you laugh and shamelessly flirted with you the whole time. You told Yuta you weren’t ready to date so soon. You didn’t want him to be a rebound. You knew that once your heart mended a little more, you’d want to ask Yuta out. He was more than willing to wait for you.

You two had a lot in common: same taste in food, same taste in music, same sense of humor, and you both believed in astrology. No one was as unapologetic about being a Scorpio as Yuta was.

You and Yuta would share meals together frequently. Sometimes outside of his restaurant. And right after, you two would go to the movies like you wanted.

Two months have passed. Finally a couple, you and Yuta have just left the cinema. You’d just watched a midnight showing of Paranormal Activity 7.

“That was amazing,” you started.

Yuta snorted. “You are too easy to please, y/n. That movie was terrible.”

You slapped him in the chest. “You’re so full of it.”

Yuta chuckled. “Nothing beats horror movies from Japan. Just you wait…” He wrapped his arm around you.

You looked up at him. “Is that a promise?”

He kissed the crown of your head. “You bet it is.”

_______

“It is week nine into the investigation of Johnny Suh’s disappearance. Johnny Suh is a twenty four year old marketing consultant. He hails from Chicago, Illinois…” The news anchor says on the television screen.

You and Yuta are cuddled on his couch in his penthouse suite, watching the news. You were shocked when you first heard that Johnny had gone missing over two months ago. Even though you’d hated him with every fiber of your being, your heart ached for his family. You hoped he would be okay.

Yuta drove to you to work that morning and told you he would pick you up when your shift ended. He planned to surprise you with a backyard screening of “Ring”, one of the most popular Japanese horror films of all time. He’d set up a projector in his backyard so you two could watch the movie under the stars.

When Yuta arrived to pick you up, he saw you run out of the record shop and run away in tears. He ran out of his car to meet you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Yuta asked as he cupped your face in his hands and wiped tears away.

You sniffled. “Let’s go...Pl-please.”

Yuta was hesitant but he accepted as you definitely wanted to get the hell out of there.

The question on Yuta’s mind was...Why?

As he drove away from Neo Records, he asked, more softly, “What happened, y/n?”

“I quit,” you said.

Yuta nearly stopped the car so he could look at you. However, he couldn’t because the traffic was quite unpredictable so he couldn’t turn to face you. “What? Why?”

“I...I don’t...He...Uh…” You hiccuped between your tears.

Yuta gripped the steering wheel at the sound of “he”. “Who? Y/n, did someone do something to you?”

You were worried about how Yuta might react when you told him about how your boss, Mr. Fox, groped you during your lunch break. Mr. Fox had always been too friendly with female staff but you never thought he would cross the line. Until today.

“Mr. Fox touched...me…” You managed to say. You shut your eyes, awaiting the wrath of the Scorpio beside you.

Yuta was about to rip the steering wheel out of the car. “He did what?”

“He touched me, Yuta...And I...I didn’t know what to do...I don’t have proof...So I quit. I can’t be in the same room as him anymore…”

Yuta was furious. To see the woman he loved broken and helpless. You were his everything and you deserve nothing but the best the world had to offer. And to see you get treated like this? He wanted to beat the shit out of Mr. Fox. He wanted to see him cry and beg for mercy.

He didn’t want to frighten you with his anger because you were already shaken up as is so he turned into a store plaza parking lot and put the car in park. He turned to you and asked you, “Can I hold you?”

You nodded, “Y-yes…”

Yuta backed the driver seat up so you could crawl into his arms. He held you as you cried. His heart ached for you and he wondered what he could do to get you justice.

You were so thankful to Yuta. You knew he would be so upset once you told him. Your heart felt so reassured to see how passionate he was about you. He made you feel like you were his world. And you felt much better knowing that you had him by your side.

_______

A week had passed by after you quit your job at Neo Records. You couldn’t afford to pay your half of the rent so Yuta offered for you to move in. You were thrilled at the idea. You and Yuta were living like blissful newlyweds.

You were washing the dishes after you two had eaten some imported steak that Yuta had wanted to try out. It was incredible. Everything Yuta prepared for you was literal sex in your mouth.

As you stretched your neck to the left, Yuta wrapped his arms around you and nibbled on your neck. “y/n, you smell like raspberries…”

You froze and dropped the dish you’d been scrubbing into the soapy water.

Yuta turned you around quickly and pulled your cleaning gloves off of your hands and tossed them aside. He picked you up and sat you on the kitchen island.

“I love that you’re here with me…” He whispered.

The hooded look in his eyes made your panties soak. He lifted the skirt of your dress up like nothing. He sunk his teeth into the fabric of your panties and pulled them down, never losing eye contact with you. You loved how primal he got with you. He always left you with love bites. He always seemed to find new places to leave them so you can find them during a random part of your day and think of him.

“I wonder if your pussy tastes like raspberries, y/n...Shall we find out?” Yuta asks as he looks up at you. He was on his knees, looking like he was praying to his goddess.

You nodded fervently as you pulled your dress off over your head, only in your bra now. “Yes…”

He unclasped your bra so your breasts were exposed to the cold air in the kitchen. Your nipples were already hard at Yuta’s initial touch. He got up off his knees and began sucking at one nipple and rubbing the others. He bit your nipple and you cried out.

You grabbed at his growing member and he grunted. You unbuttoned his pants so his aching member could be free. You squeezed it harder and began rubbing up and down. Traces of precum coated your fingers. You worked harder to get him riled up. When he felt himself build up, you stopped and he looked up at you through needy eyes.

You kept going until he climaxed onto your arm. You licked his cum off of your arm slowly and it made his cock harder. He met you halfway and lathered up his juices. He loved the taste of his seed on you.

Yuta catered to your pussy which ached for his touch. His hot breath greeted your entrance before he inserted two fingers inside you. He coated his fingers in your growing essence. You adorned him with kisses and love bites. You bit behind his ear and he moaned at your velvet touch.

He laid you down on top of the kitchen island, throwing everything off of the table with a quick swipe of his arm. He straddled himself on top of you. He proceeded to give your entrance some kitten licks, enjoying when he teased you most of all. You got all bratty and needy and it always drove him up a wall.

“Yuta...please hurry,” you begged.

He tsked. “Good things come to those who wait, darling.”

At the sound of “darling”, you got even wetter.

He chuckled as he licked your folds and played around with your sweet spot. Never quite making contact and making you delirious with need. You gripped his hair, trying to maneuver him to hit your sweet spot already.

“You better not cum until I say so, y/n...Or else I’m going to get very angry…” Yuta said with a mischievous smile on his face.

Yuta underestimated his touch, you thought. The man was literal sex on two feet. You came quickly at the contact he’d made with your pussy.

He frowned at you, “My dear little slut, you’ve disobeyed me.”

You sighed blissfully. “You make me want to break the rules, Yuta.”

He laughed. “So I’m to blame for your disobedience, huh?”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, your tongue playing around with his. You kissed his neck and left marks against his collarbone as he teased his cock against your entrance.

He entered you now and you felt close to completion. He thrusted against you and you joined him. The slapping of skin against skin and your moans echoed throughout the penthouse. You were thankful there were no next door neighbors. You liked the feeling of this floor being just the two of you.

Alone with Yuta, you felt like the center of his universe. You felt like a queen. That no one else mattered quite like you did. Yuta always made you feel like the most important person in the world.

You felt the need to climax come back quickly but just as you wished for your release against Yuta’s member, he removed himself and pecked your lips.

Between your thighs, he gave you a dark stare. “I don’t know if you should cum again, sweets.”

You drooled. “Please…”

Yuta teased. “What was that?”

“Please,” you full on begged as you started to touch yourself. “I need you or else I’m going to finish the job.”

He gasped and laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

You coated your fingers in your essence and popped your index finger into Yuta’s mouth. He sucked hard.

“How do I taste?” You asked.

Yuta didn’t let go of your finger and bit lightly against it to tease you further.

You sighed. “Well, if you don’t want to fuck me properly, then I can’t force you. I’ll finish off in the shower.” You got up off the kitchen counter and nearly lost your balance. You were already weak in the knees.

Yuta fought back a laugh. “I’d like to see you make it to the shower, jello legs.”

You gave up and laid on the floor, giving him a nice angle of your naked body. You stretched out and started teasing your own entrance, imagining Yuta was building you up again. And having him watch from above on the kitchen counter, you felt yourself grow even hotter.

Yuta got up off of the counter and straddled you again. Without warning, he entered you and went hard. Tears streamed from your eyes as you climaxed quickly. Yuta continued you to thrust against your pelvis until he came quickly after.

Yuta took you into the shower where you would continue to fuck and he gave you new love bites. This time, they were on your ankles.

_______

A month had passed and you’d taken over as manager of Neo Records. Mr. Fox had fallen off the face of the earth and was reported missing. It was odd. Another man who attempted to ruin your life had disappeared. You thought it was karmic justice but deep down, it bothered you.

Your mother once again resurfaced after months of radio silence. She wanted to invite you and your new boyfriend (who she was very upset not to have heard about before) over for dinner. Scott and his kids from his previous marriage would be there. You hated them, too. They were a bunch of enabling brats that were after their daddy’s money.

You couldn’t say no to your mother, especially after she found out about Yuta from your dad. It wounded her pride that your dad knew something she didn’t. Your dad felt horrible for letting it slip in conversation with her. He couldn’t dodge her phone calls. He always tried to pacify her and talk to her when she called. So he couldn’t help but mention Yuta.

You didn’t want Yuta to know about your mother and her side of the family, for it brought about deep shame, regret, and painful memories.

But this time, you couldn’t run away.

You and Yuta went over to your mother’s lavish home, your old home for seven years. Scott married your mom when you were a senior in high school. Scott came from old money but he never worked a day in his life. The undeserving ass wipe, he was.

Your mother pretended to be the picture of domesticity as she cooked her once-in-a-decade dish of lasagna. You loved it, you hated to admit it now. You begged her to make it so many times when you were a kid. She always said she would but would always get distracted. Distracted with her new boyfriends or paying a debt. Sometimes you were truly on your own even if your mom had been physically beside you.

You and Yuta sat at the table with Scott and his kids. They prodded Yuta with questions about his ethnicity, his restaurant, his political beliefs, basically everything you can think of that would make anyone’s significant other runs for the hills.

Yuta took it like a champ. He answered them as politely as possible and whenever the question was too offensive to get an answer, Yuta masterfully deflected.

Your mom brought out the lasagna and served everyone. She gave an extra helping for Yuta. “I hope you like it, Yuta.”

Yuta nodded. “Thank you, Ms. y/l/n.” He took a bite of it. “It’s delicious.”

Your mom smiled brightly and gave you a look of encouragement.

You forced a smile.

Your mom could tell you were faking it and her smile faded. “You still hate me, don’t you, y/n?”

Oh no, you thought, not here…

“I make this nice dinner for you and your perfect boyfriend...Who is clearly way out of your league...And you’re moping around like a sad, pathetic little bitch.”

“Mom, please stop-”

“You don’t tell me what to do! I am the parent. You are the child. Get that through your thick head. God knows what poison your father has been feeding you about me but he’s wrong. I’ve never been better,” she says as she downs her third glass of beer in the past thirty minute.

She was already this inebriated so you imagined she drank before you arrived and drank more while she was cooking the lasagna.

You looked down at your lap and Yuta grabbed your hand. He squeezed it.

“Your mother has been coming with me to church, y/n,” Scott began, “She’s been conversing with the Lord and she’s been on the mend. Why can’t you see that?”

Your other hand that wasn’t holding Yuta’s had balled up into a fist.

Scott’s oldest daughter added, “Your mom’s amazing, y/n. She’s more of a mother to me than my actual mother is.”

That’s rich….Your mom always acted so sweetly with Scott’s kids to get on his good side. It was sickening. And to hear this bullshit come out of their mouth...You were about to reach your breaking point.

“Yuta, let’s go,” you said.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Scott asked.

“Anywhere but here,” you said, “Excuse us.”

“Y/n, if you leave, I will never talk to you again!” Your mom wailed as she gripped her glass tightly.

You snapped, “Well, mom, that just might be the nicest thing would ever do for me.”

Yuta started. “Y/n-”

“Go to hell!” Your mom yelled.

“I’ll meet you there!” You yelled back as you stormed with Yuta right behind you.

Back at your place, you hid in your bedroom while Yuta ordered some takeout. You laid your face down on Yuta’s pillow and smelled the scent of his shampoo mixed with his cologne on it. It gave you great comfort.

Yuta joined you and sat beside you on the bed. “The food will be here in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled against the pillow.

Yuta sighed as he laid down next to you. “How are you?”

“Humiliated,” you answered.

“Y/n...I am so sorry…”

“Are you kidding? I’m sorry I took you with me in the first place...I...I could’ve kept you from all of that…”

“Your mother insisted, y/n. We had no choice.”

“Yup, that’s how it always is with her and fucking Scott. I fucking hate him. If it weren’t for his money and her obsession with him, she wouldn’t have gotten to this point, Yuta…”

Yuta rubbed your arm. “I know, y/n…”

You sighed. “I know there’s nothing I can do...It just sucks. I try not to let it get to me...Since it’s something I can’t control...But seeing my mom like that...It’s really fucking unfair.” You sob into your pillow.

In between your sobs, you said, “I wish Scott would go away...Somehow…”

Yuta hugged you as you cried. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain and suffering away.

_______

A month had passed since the disastrous dinner. Your mom was good with her word. She hadn’t contacted you or your dad. You’d told him about the falling out and he consoled you. He understood your pain more than anyone. He encouraged you to keep living your life and being happy with Yuta and so you did.

Yuta’s birthday was coming up so you wanted to surprise him. He told you he was meeting a client downtown so you got to work.

You wanted to take Yuta to all of his favorite places over town and you wanted to make scavenger hunt out of it. The clues would take Yuta to places that had to do with your relationship. It was a way of celebrating how much of an amazing boyfriend he’d been to you. The ultimate prize of the hunt would be a key...a hotel room key to the Lotus Hotel.

As you shopped for art supplies for your scavenger hunt one night, you’d noticed Yuta on his way somewhere. He had a couple of shopping bags with him.

You decided to follow him and catch him by surprise. However, Yuta was headed to a more abandoned part of town, where there were only warehouses.

You got behind a bunch of abandoned cars and watched Yuta make his way into a warehouse, where his car had already been parked. Half an hour passes and Yuta comes out of the door with bags stained red with blood.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What the hell were those?

You noticed the shifty look in Yuta’s eyes and quickly, you grew scared. Terrified of being caught.

Calm down, you told yourself, it was probably meat for his restaurant. What else could it be? You felt incredibly stupid for spying on him like this. In fact, you felt ashamed.

You waited for Yuta to leave in his car. You crept into the warehouse and tried looking through the windows. You saw nothing but butchers’ paper and a basket of random items.

Except one thing stuck out to you. A gold Rolex. It was obnoxiously large that you could never forget about it.

It was Scott’s. It was one of a kind. He had it custom-made to be the only one in existence. And now it was just sitting there in a random warehouse…

But why? What was it doing in this warehouse that Yuta came out of?

Your stomach lurched at the uncertainty of it all. You needed to get the hell out of here so you ran off.

Not realizing you’d forgotten something.

_______

Yuta made you spaghetti and meatballs after work the next day. You’d been awfully quiet and he wanted to know why.

“Something bothering you, sweets?” He asked.

You played with your food and took a bite of one of the meatballs. Damn, it tasted good, you thought. It was savory and not like any other kind of beef you’ve tasted. You had to ask Yuta where he imported his meat from because there was nothing quite like it.

Still, you couldn’t look Yuta in the eyes.

“Y/n, look at me, please…” He started.

You forced yourself to look at him and just as you were about to speak, your phone rang.

You were shocked to see that it was your mom. You dreaded answering it but if it could deflect from the confrontation you were about to have with Yuta…

You answered, “Hello?”

“Y/n!” Your mom sobbed. “Scott is missing!”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. “What?”

Your mom wailed. “I don’t know what to do, y/n! Have you seen him at all since you came to visit?”

Your mind immediately went to the gold Rolex at the warehouse. “No, mom, I haven’t seen him.”

Yuta watched you with curious eyes. You averted your gaze and got up from the table. “Mom, please calm down...The police will find him. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Your mom laughed. “When has the police ever done what they’re supposed to do?”

You sighed. “Mom, I’m so sorry...If there’s anything I can do…” You felt awkward for saying this because you absolutely hated Scott and part of you wanted to say good riddance...But you couldn’t. You couldn’t add salt to your mother’s wound.

You mom replied, “If you see or hear anything about Scott, call me. Please.”

“Okay,” you said, “Bye mom.”

Your mother hung up.

You turned back to Yuta, who watched you carefully from the table.

“Your food’s getting cold, y/n…” Yuta mused aloud.

“Right…” You said as you sat back down. You took another bite of the spaghetti and meatballs.

“What was that about?” Yuta asked, concerned.

“My mom called. Scott is missing…” You said as you looked down at your food.

“Oh? Well, that’s terrible,” Yuta said. He looked upset enough.

But you knew him. You sighed, “Yuta, you’re hiding something from me.”

His eyes widened. “Finally, I was waiting for you to say something. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“What?” You asked.

He pulled something out of his pants pocket and it was your charm bracelet. His birthday gift to you from last month...You’d completely forgotten about it. “You dropped this on the way home.”

Your mouth opened in shock.

“How long were you watching me for, y/n? It must’ve been troublesome to be hiding in the rubble across the street…”

You lost your appetite completely. “You knew?”

“I knew you were tailing me yesterday…” He said as he picked at your plate and took a bite of your food.

You started pathetically, “I wanted to surprise you…”

Yuta nodded. “But instead I surprised you…”

“Yuta, what was in those bags?” You asked. “And what were you doing with Scott’s watch?”

Yuta bit his lip and rubbed the back of his head. “Well...Since we’re this deep into the relationship, I think I should be completely honest with you, y/n.”

The look in Yuta’s eyes was something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t playful. It was more...evil.

“Do you remember our first meal together, y/n? How savory it was? How it was unlike anything you’d ever tasted?”

You didn’t know where this was going but you responded anyway, “Y-yeah…”

“Did you ever stop to think if it was really beef tenderloin?” Yuta asked.

Your eyes widened. “N-no…”

“Come on, y/n. It’s me...You can be honest…”

“Was it veal?” You asked, grasping at straws.

Yuta shook his head and a smile was fighting to come onto his face. “Nope...I grounded him up real nicely for our first meal together…” He muttered that last part.

“Him?” You asked.

“But who else, y/n? Think.”

You and Yuta ate together for the first time after...Your breakup with Johnny.

“Yuta...What are you…” You began.

“I think I’ve made myself pretty clear.”

You laughed skeptically. “Yuta, I know you love to tease but be serious for a second…”

Yuta’s face darkened. “I am serious, y/n.”

You shook your head. “You mean to tell me...Y-you killed Johnny?”

Yuta nodded. “Why, yes...Slit the bastard’s tire before he left the restaurant. Followed him home. Made sure Girlfriend Number Two was going up to her apartment and I got him right where I wanted him…”

“Yuta…” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. This had to be some cruel joke. And the fact that he was being so specific with these details meant that he wasn’t lying.

“So, yes, y/n, I killed Johnny and I ground him up. No evidence of that bastard’s existence is left now…And do you want to know why?”

You cried. “Yuta, stop it.”

Yuta wiped the tears from your eyes. “Because we ate him. You and me, y/n…”

You gasped in horror. You sobbed as you backed away from Yuta. “You’re a fucking liar, Yuta. Stop it!”

Yuta sighed. “Why should I stop there? That scumbag, Mr. Fox? Remember the day we made the sweetest love in the kitchen? And we had ‘steak’?”

“Yuta, no!” You fell to the floor. “Stop it! I am begging you.”

“You need to know the truth, y/n…”

You shook your head. “You killed them...And you killed Scott.”

“Ding ding! We have a winner!” Yuta rejoiced.

“You’re crazy…” You cried out.

Yuta’s smile faded as quickly as it came. “Y/n, you don’t mean that. You love me. Just as I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met…”

You cried harder. “Yuta…”

Yuta got onto the floor with you. “I did it all for you, y/n. So you could be free from them all.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yuta was a murderer and...you couldn’t even think the word...

And you...you ate their remains...Johnny’s...Mr. Fox’s...and…

You looked up at the plate of spaghetti and meatballs and came to another realization. You ran into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

You gagged and coughed as you held your hair back.

You’d just eaten Scott’s remains.

Your world was crashing down on you. Yuta, the love of your life, killed three people. And that was only accounting for the people you knew. You had no idea what his past was really like. Yuta cut them up, ground them up, did everything a butcher would do with their body parts. Yuta fed them to you. He ate them knowingly and unapologetically.

And the worst part?

You enjoyed every morsel…

And you craved more.

Yuta entered the bathroom and held your hair back for you as he caressed your back. “There, there…”

Tears from vomiting ran down your cheeks. “Yuta...You really shouldn’t have done those things…”

“Do you really mean that, y/n? Johnny made a fool out of you and lied to you. He humiliated you and he didn’t stop his new girlfriend from insulting you. He was scum. Mr. Fox was the most vile of them all. He touched you without consent. Rapists should perish from the moment they think of touching someone...At least, give me that much, sweets…”

As disturbing as everything Yuta had said sounded, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

“And Scott...You wished to make him go away...And your wish is my command, my angel.”

You got up from the toilet and flushed the contents down. You went to the sink and brushed your teeth. All the while, Yuta watched you.

“Y/n...The consumption of human flesh has been a custom in my family for generations...These days, we can’t just pick and choose our victims. We must have an honorable reason to kill them. You gave me three victims. A feast. It’s what sustains me, y/n…”

You spat the toothpaste out of your mouth and swished your mouth with some mouthwash. “You...you’re serious?”

“I need to consume human flesh at least once a year or I will die, y/n...Why do you think my parents died so young?”

You thought about it. “They gave up on human flesh?”

Yuta nodded somberly. “I don’t want to die, y/n. Now that I’ve met you, I can’t afford to…”

“But why did you feed them to me?” You asked.

“To absorb their power. To move on,” he said, “It’s my family’s belief that once you ingest the meat of your enemy that you will overcome the barrier that they’ve created for you.”

You stood there, silent. You were afraid of what he would probably bring up next.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” He asked, finally.

You averted your gaze and stared at the sink. “I...did.”

Yuta met your eyes through the mirror. “I know, y/n...And there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me.”

Tears escaped your eyes. Yuta was right. It’d felt...amazing. Empowering. And each of them were the best meals you’d ever had…

“Yuta?” You started.

“Yes, darling?”

“Never keep anything from me again,” you commanded.

_______

It had been a year since the news broke out over Scott’s disappearance. Johnny and Mr. Fox’s missing person cases had gone cold.

Since Scott was out of the picture, your mom had a mental break and was admitted into a rehabilitation facility. She is continually seeking treatment and is turning away visitors. She wrote you a letter, reflecting on her past mistakes and how she’d failed you as a mother. She apologized profusely and promised you that she would try to be sober.

And that’s all you’d ever hoped for from her. You knew that it would be a difficult journey. But the desire for change was the first step in the right direction. And you had a feeling your mom was going to succeed.

You married Yuta. Your father gave you away at the wedding. You were happy. You and Yuta traveled the world together. You had adopted two rescue dogs. To your friends and family, you and Yuta were the dream.

When you’d returned from your honeymoon, Yuta had bought a house for you two to start a family together. The first night in your new house, Yuta bred you.

You two laid in bed together. Yuta hugged you and asked, “So, has anyone screwed you over recently?”

You laughed. “Nope. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes and nipped at your ear. “A Nakamoto man’s gotta eat, y/n...Any ideas?”

You nuzzled into his neck. “You can always eat me.”

Yuta got a hard on at those words. “You’re too sweet for me to eat. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, y/n…”

You traced your fingers down his happy trail and asked. “Well, we can go hunting this week. I’m sure there’s some privileged college fuckboy that is beyond redemption…”

“You know what, y/n? There’s so many things I love about you but it’s your optimism that gets me hot.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased as you kissed him.

“I love you,” Yuta said between kisses.

“I love you, too,” you replied.

[Fin]

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