sunberri . ♡

heyyyyy DOLLLSSSS<<<33

okay so my friends are recommending me the boys of tommen series(binding 13, blablablbla) by Chloe walsh!!!

Nikolai: Babyyyyy?

Brandon: Don't call me that!

Nikolai: Why?

Brandon: It's... Ugh. Just, knock it off!

(NOW)

Nikolai: Brandon?

This is my currently in progress book, and I decided to share a little poem regarding the main character.

Ten years I rotted, dust and shade,

Now gilded cage, a life unmade.

I clawed my way from endless night,

To face a prince, a hateful light.

He smiles and bows, a charming lie,

But in my heart, a fire will fly.

My pen, my sword, the ink, my blood,

Revenge is sweet, misunderstood.

Each stroke a whisper, sharp and keen,

Await my arrival, a vicious decree.

A queen will rise, a vengeful scene.

(But, AFTER the book is released, I will desperately look for free pdfs I'm sorry I js don't have a Barnes n' Nobles near me and if I have to wait for that book to arrive I'm gonna kms 💔)

``A liar. That's what he is.``

FIFTEEN YEARS OLD

YULIAN

This is ridiculous.

No way—no fucking way—am I being punished because an asshole picked a fight he couldn't win.

And sure, maybe I did break the whats-his-name's arm during a mere sparring. And sure, he was rushed on over to the nearest hospital.

But that's only because he couldn't keep up.

Growing up, I find most people can't. Keep up with me, I mean. I'm insatiable. A tyrant in the wait. Soon enough, I'll have a pool of blood at my feet. I'll have the world in the palm of my hands.

But that's not enough.

I'm violence resurrected in human form.

I'm chaos.

For years on end, I could never quiet the raging thoughts inside my head. They beg and cry to be released, but I simply can't, or it'll be as if a genocide had happened.

My father would have a field day beating me to bits, too, but that's neither here nor there.

Being in this camp is useless, really. You're surrounded by a bunch of others you're forced to compete with—if you don't win, you're seen as weak. If you don't lose, you're seen as a threat.

I don't care.

Usually, I never do, until one specific prim and proper asshole looked down on me.

Nobody looks down on me.

Okay, that's a lie. A lot of people do, and, I don't blame them. But he did it so blatantly, so... I don't know. I don't know why his remarks pissed me off the way they did.

Unclean.

Moron.

Filthy.

Suicidal bastard.

Vaughn Morozov. He's the son of Kirill Morozov—Or more accurately, the pride of Kirill Morozov.

He's the heir to the Pakhan, and fit to be, too. His hair is always well kempt, gaze unwavering, astonishing manners, and his looks are drool worthy.

Not to say I'm drooling over him or anything.

Ever since I'd acquainted myself with the posh boy, he's made it his mission to steer clear of me. I'm the wave of destruction. The ruin of his peace. The chaos to his calm.

We're perfect.

In short, I've been obsessing over him for the past few weeks. What? Nothing, and I mean nothing, would be better then to see the look on his face when I knock him off his high horse—Or, in his case, high throne. I think he's felt the same way, seeing as he never misses the opportunity to jab an insult at me.

But these days, he's been quiet. Hasn't given me anything.

I hate quiet.

It's unsettling.

I can't stay still. I can't breathe, I can't think.

I need an adrenaline rush. Vaughn is the key.

He's grown bored of you.

Funny, brain. Thank you so fucking much. Love how you never pass up the opportunity to slice my heart with a goddamn knife.

Tonight, I'm in my cabin. It's small. A little too small for someone like me. I'm a lot taller then the others, anyway. But it's whatever.

I can't sleep, though.

"I'll fucking hurt them, you waste of space. Get your act together or your mother and sister will pay the fucking price." Some bright, colorful threats from the best 'father' ever.

Yaroslav doesn't care who he has to torment to get his way, even if it's his own flesh and blood. I would know, since he beats me whenever he has the fucking chance.

But I can't sleep. Not when my mother hasn't called me, and my sister hasn't picked up the phone. I don't know if they're okay.

If only I'd gotten my act together. But I can't.

I'm so selfish.

Why is it so hard for me to just sit still? Not cause a fucking problem?

If they're hurt because of me, I'll never forgive myself.

I curl into myself, my knees at my chest, arms wrapped around my figure, the navy blue blanket draped over me.

It's pathetic, I know.

That tears are streaming down my face. Silent ones. One's no one could hear.

But I'm worried, okay? Fucking he'll.

"Mom.. mom.. pick up.." I chant, begging, no—praying, that the ringing will finally stop and my mother's sweet, melodic voice will cut through. It never does.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I shove the phone into my pocket, forcing myself out of bed. It's okay, I lie to myself. They're okay. I'll just... Visit Vaughn. Bother him a bit. Yeah... that'll help.

So, I make an effort to wipe away my tears, trying desperately not to look like I just had a mental breakdown, despite the fact I did.

Then, I sneak out. Through the window, of course. Surprise, surprise, I'm actually not a dumbass, contrary to Cyrus's opinion.

I search for hours. No sign of the bastard.

C'mon, asshole. Where are you?

Out of frustration, I release a shaky exhale, and I have to pause before the tears start flowing against. Disconnect, Yulian. Detach yourself... It's okay.... It's......

Bingo.

"Hey there, Mishka." I call out in a singsong tone, masking my disheveled expression with ease.

He doesn't answer.

So, I march my way up the hill, a cherry tree above us, branches forming one hell of a silhouette. Then, I kneel in front of him, taking pleasure in the way his usually emotionless face scrunches up in disdain.

"Hey," I snap my fingers, "Don't you know it's rude to ignore someone who's talking to you? Have some manners, Mishka."

"Don't call me Mishka." Vaughn orders. I can't help the way my shoulders relax. It's weird how I feel so at ease around him.

"But it fits you, y'know. You're definitely like a bear, act all big and bad and—"

"Have you been crying?"

I pause.

What the fuck? How did he know? I made sure to wipe everything off, I even checked twice. Which, by the way, is fucking insane because usually I don't give a fuck about anything that much.

"Excuse me?" I ask, swallowing down the lump forming in my throat.

Vaughn sighs, composing himself before continuing. "Have you been crying, Yulian?"

"I don't see why that's your business—"

"I saw it."

"What?"

"Your dad."

Well, fuck me sideways.

Dad is going to take my throat and slice it. And that's only if he doesn't chop my head off first.

"Drop it, Vaughn." My tone hardens, and he knows it too seeing as he hesitates. I never call him by his name. Usually, it's 'Mishka.'

"I'm sorry." Vaughn whispers, and a wave of something completely foreign washes over me. "I'm sorry he treats you the way he does. You don't deserve it."

You don't deserve it.

That's something I've never been told before.

I sit on my knees, turning my head to the side in order to shield him from the tears that threaten to show.

"Well, what can ya' do, right?" I joke, though it's humorless.

Then, he does something I never thought in a million years he'd ever do.

He embraces me.

My head is on his shoulder, his arms are wrapped around me.

It's like a dam broke. And suddenly, those tears, the ones I was so determined to hide, flow freely.

And he holds me through it.

Through each second.

I'm grasping at the shirt he's always so persistent on keeping clean, staining the fabric with my tears, and he doesn't complain. Not once or twice or anything in between.

"He's gonna... gonna... hurt m'mom..sister..." I choke, "All... all because of me."

"No, not because of you, Yulian. It's because of him. Never, and I mean never, blame yourself for the cruelty he gives." Vaughn's hand is on the back of my head, stroking my hair, keeping me grounded, holding me together.

I sat there. Cried for about an hour or so.

Then, sobs turned into hiccups, and hiccups turned into whispers.

"Promise you'll stay." I murmur.

"I'll stay."

"You didn't promise."

"I promise, Volchonok."

Little did I know, a month later, he'd break that promise, throw it away into a deep, dark, pit of despair—And along with it, my last bits of hope.

If I had known he'd stab me in the back and leave without notice, I'd have never spilled my heart out to him.

He promised he would stay.

A liar.

That's what he is.

This is a little fanfic of how Yulian came to distrust Vaughn in the future.

Of course, it probably isn't accurate, but hey, it was fun to write and that's all that matters.

March 24th, we'll know.

Yours truly,

In pretty much ALL of Author Rina Kent's books, chapter 25 is where things go south. She said she traumatized Yulian & Vaughn in this book.

BRACE YOURSELVES, READERS.

Also, if you wanna read 54 pages of Hunt The Villain by Rina Kent FOR FREE, then do check out this link:

Tap the search bar and type in Hunt The Villain, and click the book. Then, there's gonna be something that's says "Look inside," and you'll be given 54 free pages of HTV content! I think the entirety of the book will be published there on it's release date, or soon after.