#The Lake View Address

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Sixteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, straight up murder, gun/knife violence, drug use GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, all may not apply]

Info: Ghost is too pleased with you over something he really shouldn’t be. You say things, his feelings get hurt. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

The cool, end of summer winds blew over the bushes you crouched behind. The conversation between Ghost and Adam could be heard in choppy bits, mostly Adam’s side of the dialogue. His pained voice and sharp yelp carried loud and clear over to you. As you heard him shouting for his friends, you couldn’t help but pop your head up despite Ghost’s strict instructions to do the opposite. You couldn’t just ignore the possibility that a group of men might be charging at him any moment now. If you could help, even just a little bit, you would. Though it seemed to be an unneccesary fear, scanning the area quickly you noticed that the yard was devoid of any movement and the living room light in the cabin had been turned out. They’d abandoned their friend, no doubt barricading themselves inside the cabin at that very moment. Thinking quickly, you knew they all probably had their phones on them. If they hadn’t already called the cops, they would be calling them soon. 

Pulling out your phone, you hid it behind your jacket sleeve, turning the brightness down. Once you’d wriggled around enough to safely switch it on and do some quick googling, you discovered that unfortunately for anyone in the area, the average police response time was about forty five minutes. But, as you looked up the county maps, along with the address to your cabin… you realized it might take them much longer to arrive. The lake sat directly on the county line, the county to the left had a police department fifty seven minutes away. While the one on the right had a department closer, yet inaccessible during certain hours. 

A draw bridge along the river rose up and lowered manually, monitored twenty-four hours round the clock, seven days a week. It took five whole minutes to open, five whole minutes to close, and however long it took a large boat to chug along through the gap. If it were you, being tormented by Ghost and a boat was stopping help from getting to you… well, rightfully you’d be livid. Though you found yourself lacking the sympathy you should be experiencing for these boys. Of course they were horrible people, but violence wasn’t usually appealing to you in the least bit. You’d much rather Ghost confiscate their phones and drop them off anonymously at the police department on your way back to the city. Whatever they’ve done, there’s bound to be a shred of evidence on at least one of their cellphones. 

You might’ve yelled out to suggest it, but you realized that would be very unwise considering you’d already broken your promise to keep your head down. So you stayed down, your phone now shoved back into your pocket with a timer set to vibrate in thirty minutes. You took a moment to strategize in the event that you needed to get the hell out of dodge at the first sign of flashing lights. 

“Brandon! This guy’s tryna kill me!” Adam’s shrill voice rang out through the moonlit nightscape. Once again, unable to help yourself, you popped your head up, parting the leaves and twigs to peer through. You could barely make out a struggling figure on the ground, the large truck was obstructing most of the view, only allowing you to see beneath the vehicle.

You heard the unmistakable sound of metal singing, a sharp, shrill *schinggg*, followed by a shock-delayed roar of pain. The sounds weren’t quite right, the scream was in its place, but the blade and the squelch were in the wrong spots. You hadn’t heard the blade go in, you were only hearing it come out. You waited for a wet thud, but never heard one. Just rustling of clothes, Ghost’s unintelligible grumbling and footsteps heading away from you. Two sets of footsteps.

He hadn’t hurt him so badly that he couldn’t walk, just enough that he would be lightheaded from the blood loss within the next half hour. Adam stumbled in front of Ghost who directed his jerky, uncoordinated movements by his grip on the back of Adam’s shirt. You lost sight of them when their footsteps changed from soft thuds to louder *clunks*, they must’ve reached the porch.

“Say ‘Hi’ Adam.” Ghost shoved him toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Adam struggle to comprehend his simple order. “Can you fucking knock at least?”

“Shit, I guess.” Adam shook his head and cleared his throat, his arms still ziptied behind his back. He tapped the bottom of the door with his sneaker, kicking just loud enough for those inside to hear. “Hey! Brandon! Zach? Zachary! Zach I swear to god if you don’t open this fucking door I’ll deny your membership!”

They could hear hushed, frantic voices behind the door as his frat brothers tried to decide their course of action. Adam was getting impatient, kicking at the door handle forcefully in hopes to break it off and gain entry by force. 

“Here, I’ll give it a try buddy.” Ghost said, patting his shoulder before gripping him by the hair and bashing his forehead into the solid redwood door. “It’s rude to leave a guest at the door!” Ghost shouted ‘knocking’ on the door repeatedly with the side of Adam’s head.

“Fuck! Open the fuckin’ door!” Adam breathed in short, shallow inhales as if he might hyperventilate from the stress. His lungs starting to constrict and make his face turn red, a wheezing sound escaping his throat as his breathing became labored.

“Do you have an inhaler?” Ghost asked with a slight laugh, “Breathing in all that frat boy bullshit caught up to you?” 

“I-I have asthma.” He wheezed, choosing to save his breath instead of wasting it by feeding into Ghost’s deliberate emotional jab. 

“Are you gonna die if you don't get it?” Ghost asked annoyedly, seemingly miffed that he wasn’t able to get a real reaction out of him.

“M-may… maybe.” He coughed, dry and raspy, from deep in his throat. Adam was instinctively trying to reach up to hold his neck, unable to because of the zip ties, realizing he couldn’t only made things worse. Being denied the simple instinctive human reaction caused his panic to flare up into a frenzy, the formerly sure footed, bull headed, asshole was reduced to a scared kid on his knees, choking on air as he fought against his own body to breathe.

“Shit.” Ghost sighed and rapped on the window with his leathered knuckles. “For real guys, get this little shit his inhaler. Open the fucking door or I’ll bust the window.” He yelled, smacking at the glass with his palm. 

“You come in first!” A voice from behind the door shouted as the doorknob jiggled loosely, practically hanging by a thread from the beating Adam had given it.

“Sure.” Ghost called out, certainly not planning to follow that demand. He grabbed Adam by his shoulders and lifted him up. Forcing him to stand on his own two feet before shouting for them to open the door again.

The door slowly opened just a crack, a fist holding a long knife used to filet fish lashed out wildly, aiming at everything and nothing at the same time. Ghost was thankful for his quick reflexes, as much as he wanted to ensure these guys didn’t live to see the morning sun, he promised he’d only scare them. So, he pulled Adam back and kicked the wrist connected to the hand holding the knife, causing the wielder to drop it with a hiss of pain. Ghost stomped on the blade, drawing his foot backward to slide it out of the way and out of reach.

“Great job, almost stabbed your buddy here.” He grunted, hefting Adam up and pushing him forward. “Somebody catch him, get him his inhaler.” He said in a firm voice, expecting nothing but compliance. 

Adam fell to his knees and a lamp flickered on before illuminating the room in a soft yellow hue, allowing Ghost to see what was waiting for him behind the door. What he saw made him laugh out loud: the couch flipped on its side, the kitchen table pushed against the couch as some kind of make shift ‘fort’ and four guys with pots and pans for weapons. 

“Where’s Gordon? Didn’t realize I was walking in to Hell’s Kitchen.” He chuckled, flipping out both his knives, making sure to flick Adam’s blood at his closest frat brother, just for fun.

“What do you want man? Why? His inhaler?” The youngest and most meek of the group, Zachary spoke up, “If you’re gonna kill us why get him his inhaler?”

“Who said I was gonna kill you?” He laughed, wiping the leftover blood on his jeans. “Get the guy his inhaler, please.” He gritted out.

“Alright.” Wyatt nodded, coming out from beneath the kitchen table, he warily made his way to one of the bedrooms and returned quickly with Adam’s rescue inhaler. 

“Great job,” Ghost rubbed the two blades together in a crisscross motion before turning one toward Zach. “Get me everyone’s phones… keys too.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded quickly, tossing his own phone on the floor at Ghost’s feet. “Brandon, please.” He breathed out, thrusting out his hand impatiently when his friend didn’t hand it over immediately.

“I’m not giving that psycho my goddamn phone!” He yelled, shoving Zachary away from him.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Ghost growled, stomping over to yank Zachary back to his feet after scooping up his phone from the floor. “Hand it over, like I said, I’m not gonna kill you. Just do what I say and I’ll leave.”

“Th-thanks?” Zachary scrambled back out of Ghosts grip, giving him Wyatts phone before he joined Adam and his other friend on the floor.

“Mhm.” Ghost nodded over his shoulder at him, watching him move to regroup with his friends. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and quickly spun around, only getting clipped on the shoulder by the cast iron skillet Brandon was holding over his head as if preparing to bring it down on him again.

“Goddamnit!” Ghost yelled, rolling his shoulder and feeling the muscles pinch uncomfortably. Holding both knives in a back handed grip allowed him to swing them closed quickly, holding them in his palms tightly as he wound up to punch Brandon. “Tryin’ to be civil here.” He growled, connecting his fist to brandon’s chin in an upper cut hard enough to make Rocky cry.

His target dropped the skillet and it clamored to the ground in a loud crash, followed by the fool who thought it would be a good idea to hit Ghost with a frying pan. Once Brandon was on his knees, his mouth bloodied and split open, Ghost crouched in front of him and held his hand out. Instead of receiving Brandon's phone, Ghost was kindly gifted a spray of bloody spit over the white of his mask. He breathed in and let out a tired sigh, standing up he brought his knee up quickly and aimed at the same spot, this time getting a bigger, louder reaction from Brandon. 

The yowl Brandon let out was ear piercing, with shaking hands he tossed his phone to Ghost and cupped his palm beneath his chin, spitting out globs of blood and something… meaty.

“Yuh mad meh bighth ma tong ov.” He looked up at Ghost, a sniveling mess of red saliva and sobs, holding up his hand where he held the tip of his tongue in his palm.

“I didn’t make you do that. You made a stupid choice and you got a shitty result.” Ghost scoffed, and shouted to Zach, the easiest to deal with out of them all, he was the most impressionable. “Go put this on ice.” He gestured to the hunk of flesh dismissively, groaning in frustration when he heard very loud, very messy, alcohol tainted vomiting coming from the right of him. 

“You fuckin’ serious?” He half laughed, half barked. Shaking his head, he snatched the tongue and walked to the kitchen, thankful that all the cabins here had a practically identical floor plan. Muttering to himself he grabbed a clean solo cup and filled it with ice from the fridge, dropping the flesh into the cup and returning to thrust it into Brandons hand.

“Don’t lose it, they can sew that shit back on.” He sighed, gathering up the phones he took a seat in one of the kitchen table chairs, facing the group to keep an eye on them

“Not a single one of you called the cops?” He laughed, scrolling through call history on two phones at once. “Why’s that?” 

“W-”

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word.” Adam coughed, glaring at Zachary.

“Let the boy speak.” Ghost waved off Adam, taking on the torch of authority over the group for the time being.

“I- well,” Zach swallowed hard, it was clear that the kid was in over his head. This wasn’t his normal friend group, he stuck out like a sore thumb, he was the lackey and being the lackey of the group is just about as well paying as being a doormat. “Adam, I have to. You know I have to.”

“No you don’t!” He lunged toward Zachary, with how they were all acting Ghost was almost positive if he left now they’d all end up killing each other anyway.

“Shut up.” Ghost barked, making a frisbee from one of the cellphones, catching Adam in the outer corner of his already bruised left eye. He hissed in pain, but gave no more complaints.

“Go on.” Ghost nodded to Zach, standing up so he could spin his chair around and straddle it, using the backrest to lean against comfortably as he listened.

“We didn’t rent this cabin.” Zachary spat out quickly, looking pale in the face as Adam smacked him in the back of the head, muttering something about ‘stupid freshies’.

“That’s it?” Ghost laughed, smacking both hands on his knees, rubbing his leather palms against his jeans.

“We broke in, it’s not ours.” Zachary nodded frantically, hoping the quicker he spilled his guts, the quicker the ordeal would be over with. “I’m supposed to be gettin-”

“Inducted into the frat, I know, I heard.” Ghost sighed, standing up and grabbing the back of Zachary’s shirt. “Look, take a good look. Do these idiots seem like the kind of people you want to be spending everyday of your life with for the foreseeable future?”

“N-no.” He shook his head, hands shaking with tremors of anxiety.

“Good choice. Did you drive here?” Ghost asked, getting a nod in response. “Great, it’s your car right?”

“Yes.” Zach nodded again, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact with his ‘friends’. Ghost pulled out the phones, letting Zachary take his.

“Now, before you leave I want you to make a quick little post and send a few emails, okay?” Ghost said, pointing to the cellphone screen. “Can I trust you to do that Zach?”

“Y-Yes sir.” He nodded, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve airdropped a bunch of screenshots from their phones. Email them to the Dean and the head of your frat house. Probably should take a good look at them yourself. You should know what you were about to agree to partake in.” Ghost said, kicking his boot straight into Wyatt’s chest as he attempted to tackle him. “That’s enough!”

Ghost shoved him to the ground, wrestling with him until he could get his hands behind his back. Busy with the wad of zipties he was pulling from his pockets, he didn’t notice Adam had recovered enough to join in on the scuffle. Just as he was pulling the ziptie around Wyatts wrists, Adam’s foot landed on top of Ghost, connecting with the back of his neck. A blinding pain rippled through Ghost, so quickly, so intensely that a wave of nausea washed over him like a tsunami. He felt green as he rolled off of Wyatt and out from under Adam who still had his heel on his shoulder. Ghost stood up, stumbling to his feet he forced himself to swallow the bile that crept up his esophagus. While Adam fell to the floor, unable to catch himself due to his restraints.

Ghost saw nothing but crimson red when he caught his balance, flipping out both knives in a backhanded hold, giving him the use of his fists and the convenience of a downward slash of his blade if needed. With one fist in front of his face, his other shot out to pop Adam on the cheek, tilting his fist to drag the cold steel down his ‘assailant’s’ arm. Blooming ichor cropped up through the deep split in the flesh, the heat of the fresh wound warming the blade for its next mark. Adam screamed, his hands and arms wriggling in an attempt to hold his bicep instinctually as he took in the sight of the gushing blood, in his panicked state he did what came to his mind first, trying to squish the meat back together by shrugging his shoulder up, tucking his chin there and pressing his arm against the floor.

“Listen here you little shit.” Ghost said, crouching down over top of the wailing guy beneath him. “I promised I wouldn’t kill any of you, I don’t like breaking promises. But, I’m not above it.”

“You wouldn’t!” Adam yelled, thrashing around, spilling his blood across the floor. Wyatt whimpering near the two of them as he pushed himself away with his feet on the slick floor.

“I would.” Ghost said, standing up and resting his booted foot on Adam’s skull to apply enough pressure to solidify his threat while he turned his attention back to Zachary. “You done?”

“I think so.” He nodded, handing Ghost the phone so he could approve the email and facebook post.

“Perfect, you should major in journalism. They’ll be begging for more on this story, might as well cash out.” Ghost said with a dark, deep laugh. “Nice to meet you Zach, get the fuck out.” Ghost shoved the phone back into his chest along with the handful of car keys.

Zachary took his phone and his set of keys, dropping the rest on the ground. He stood awkardly as though he weren’t positive that Ghost had meant what he said. Scanning the floor he took in the mess of furniture, blood, beer cans, and the quaking forms of the three frat brothers that he would be leaving behind.

“Wait. Where’s Justin?” Zachary asked, spinning around to look about the room, noticing the last member of their group was missing.

“Do you always travel in a pack?” Ghost grumbled, shoving Brandon and Adam together, lacing two more zipties through theirs to connect them. Then he brought Wyatt over, attaching him to the other two in the same manner, “Walk.”

“How do you expect us to walk like this?” Wyatt asked, a scowl on his face while the huddle moved slowly toward the coat closet near the front door.

“Well you’re walkin’ aren’t you?” Ghost growled, opening the door and uncerimoniously pushing them into the closet. He shut the door and grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier, pushing it beneath the closet door handle to wedge it closed.

“Zach!” Ghost yelled, seeing the boy coming out of the kitchen with a large knife. “Seriously? I was starting to like you!”

“Wait!” Zachary screeched, throwing his hands up and dropping the knife to prove he wasn’t a threat. “Wait, i- i was just grabbing it to pop their tires.”

“Huh.” Ghost said, letting his body relax ever so slightly. “Okay well, did you find the other one?”

The yelling, screams and thumping coming from inside the cabin were too much for you to sit back and allow to go on, unchecked. You had decided after the loudest, most pained scream you’d heard so far rang out into the night, that you could no longer obey Ghost’s strict orders. After shoving your small backpack into Ghost’s larger one, you put it on and pulled the straps tighter to fit your smaller frame. Once it was secure enough that it wouldn’t hinder your ability to move swiftly, you made your way to the truck closest to you, hoping to stay hidden for as long as possible.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet despite the ginger steps you took, occasionally glancing toward the window and the front door of the cabin, willing Ghost to come out so you wouldn’t have to get any closer. After passing the truck, you ducked behind the Mazda, using it as cover when you spotted the front door slowly opening.

Peering through the dark glass of the car window you were able to make out a figure heading your way. Immediately retracting your sigh of relief when you noticed the height of the approaching person wasn’t nearly as tall as what you were expecting. As the figure lifted its head, rounding the corner of the house, your worries were confirmed. It wasn’t Ghost.

The weight of the possibility that Ghost really was the one crying out in pain was a pressure on your chest that went far beyond suffocating. It was chest crushing, lung squeezing, and breath halting. Without thinking you spun quickly, the gravel being displaced under your heel made a noise loud enough to have you clapping your hands over your mouth as you panted in short breaths. The soft rustling of the grass from the stranger’s movements stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence blanketing the area. For a moment it was just you and your uncontrolled breathing, the adrenaline saturated blood rushing through you as your heart beat echoed in your ears.

The illusion of being in a bubble of silent safety was shattered in less than a second. A rough hand grabbed you by the handle of your backpack and pulled you up to your feet and against the side of the car.

”So it was you.” The male voice from behind you sneered, squishing your face against the hood of the car. “Where’s the other girl?”

”She’s not here, she left earlier. W-way before I came over here.” You lied, panicking as you swallowed the rest of your anxiety induced word vomit in hopes that he’d believe the shortened version.

“So it’s just you and the sissy-boy, huh?” He prodded, trying to unzip your back pack. “What ya got in here? You stealing shit too?”

”No!” You wormed your way out of one of the straps, turning uncomfortably in your attacker’s firm grasp to pry the bag from his hands. It’s one thing to disobey very clear and concise instructions. It’s a worse thing to get caught because of your disobedience. But it would be more than a metaphorical death sentence for Ghost’s gun to end up in the hands of someone else.

“No, I haven’t stolen anything.” Your voice evening out after being raised an octave from the initial startled ‘no’ from your lips.

”Then what’s in the bag?” He questioned aggressively.

In that moment, you knew you had two choices. You could give it up or have it forcibly taken from you. Though there was a third option tapping at the back of your head, the little devil on your shoulder pulling on your ear and hoping you’d take the chance.

”This.” With your decision made, no matter how poor, you followed through. Pulling out the pistol from the bag, pointing it directly at his chest.

”Whoa! Whoa, easy.” He laughed nervously, putting his hands up and backing off as his eyes darted around, looking for an out.

”The trunk.” Your voice stern in a way you hadn’t heard before. “Open the trunk, get in.”

You gestured to the back of the car with the gun, watching him closely while he moved with slow, calculated steps. You could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, but by the time you noticed, it was too late. The very second he opened the trunk, he tried shoving you inside.

Wether it was an act of the gods or a a quick tug from your personal imp, you’ll never know, but somehow your finger pulled the trigger. A loud blast echoed through the trees around you, the man stumbled back, holding his chest. The recoil of the pistol startled you, though the realization that the gun really had been loaded this whole time, startled you even more.

“Shit.” Ghost’s body flew on autopilot when the crack of the gun reached the cabin. A million thoughts ran through his head at once, but only one stuck out clearly. Only one held his attention. You.

Zach hit the floor, his hands over his head when he registered the sound for what it was, his ‘friends’ shouting in panic behind the closet door. He made not effort to free them nor to move at all, simply frozen in fear as Ghost stepped over him, through the threshold of the front door. Jumping from the porch he hit the ground in a full sprint, only stopping when he caught sight of you, arms out in front of you with the gun still in your hands.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard muffled words as a gentle leather hand peeled the gun from your grasp. His hands searching you for any injuries, satisfied that the only wound you’d sustained was mental, he scooted you away, shoving his arms under the armpits of the corpse before hefting the body from the ground and into the open trunk behind you. After making sure he really was dead, Ghost wiped the blood off on the man’s jeans and carefully guided you to the side of the car, having you sit down.

”You’ve got good aim for such a little doe.” He said, trying to lighten the atmosphere just a tiny bit. “Here I was thinkin’ it was deer season.”

”No?” He sighed, patting your head and massaging your scalp with his fingertips before he straightened up. “Too soon?”

“Just a little bit.” You said, looking up at him from were you sat.

”Don’t cry, it’s okay.” He said, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about nothin’ okay?”

”Promise?”

“Promise.” He nodded, holding out his pinky finger and waggling it at you until you linked yours with his. “Good girl.” His voice was rough, but it was clear it wasn’t from anger. His body language was relaxed, like he was relieved.

He walked back to the trunk of the car and hummed to himself, a song that triggered a memory for you. It felt like years had passed since you’d heard it, but the beat came to the forefront of your mind with an image in tow. Followed by another, then another, and another. Ghost was humming the lyrics, but your mind was filling in the the missing instrumentals.

While you were busy trying to connect where and when you’d heard that tune, Ghost was busy cutting the shirt off the corpse of the frat boy you’d shot. With the blood soaked fabric out of the way the gaping wound in his flesh was easily visible. He let out a low whistle as he took in the damage from the close range shot. He shook his head with a little laugh and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, subtly giving his half-hard cock a bit more room.

He steeled himself for the next bit of his task, finding the bullet. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms to reposition his sleeves without having to touch them, before he sunk the middle and ring finger of both hands into the wound to pull it apart, lifting one side he dug around and pried open the rip in the muscle.

“Gross.” He whispered, making a gagging sound when he heard the wet tearing of the fascia, feeling the stringy substance snapping under his hands.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asked in a soft voice, trying to get your attention without startling you.

“Huh?” You turned your head, only registering you were being spoken to after he snapped his fingers at you.

“Can you get me some gloves from the little side zippy?” He asked, pointing to the backpack now at your feet. “And there’s a thingy of wipes in the big front zippy.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You nodded, moving slowly as you came down from the chemical rush you’d just experienced.

“No, no.” He quickly shook his head when you stood up to walk over to him. “Just set ‘em up there.” He gestured to the back windshield with his elbow, so you did as he asked, recognizing that he was doing something that was most definitely unpleasant to witness.

“Thanks doll.” He nodded, bending down and wiping the blood on his leather gloves onto the ground, dragging his fingers back and forth through the grass.

He stepped on the tip of each glove to pull them off his hands, quickly switching over to the latex gloves to continue the dirty work he shielded you from. You’d been through enough, he already felt immense guilt for what he’d brought you into, there was no need to add insult to injury. Ghost picked up where he left off, prodding around beneath the flesh, he realized he’d have to dig a bit deeper. Separating the tissue from the muscle he forced his flat hand underneath the left pectoral as far as possible.

“Fuck.” He cursed, his middle finger following the rippled meat until he lost the bullet’s path.

“Bad news bears.” He called out to you, popping his head around the side of the trunk. “I need you to look in the toolbox in the back of that truck. Put on some gloves first though.”

“What? Why?” You asked, snapping the latex into place on your fingers after pulling out a pair for yourself.

“See if he’s got some bolt cutters.” He sighed, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “If he doesn’t have bolt cutters get me a hammer or crowbar. It’d be sweet if he has a crowbar.”

“A crowbar?” You asked out of curiosity, then thought better of it. “Actually, nevermind.”

You climbed up into the truckbed and lifted the toolbox lid. There were no bolt cutters, only small wire cutters. Two hammers, a plethora of screwdrivers and a random assortment of metal fittings and other equipment. Buried beneath a pile of ratchet straps you found the crowbar.

“Oh hell yeah.” Ghost chuckled, taking it from you as you held it out at a distance.

“Uh, probably should cover your ears.” He said apologetically.

He pulled the corpse from the trunk, letting it thump on the gravel so he could plant his foot firmly on the abdomen, leaning forward with the curved side of the crowbar in his hands, the flat side pressed into the space between his ribs, just beneath the left pec.

Ghost put his weight into the crowbar, sinking it in with one firm, downward shove. It was a difficult process, one that needed a balance between force and delicacy, Ghost was only experienced at one of those attributes. He pushed too hard, going through the connective tissue between the ribs as planned and down into the chest cavity.

A wet, goopy pop met his ears before the blood began to seep out of the punctured viscera hidden in the chest cavity.

“Oh, yum.” He muttered under his breath as he wiggled the crowbar back and forth as he pulled it up out of the soft substance he’d pierced. The noise was similar to the suction of pulling your fingers out of a jar of hair gel.

Ghost left the crowbar sticking up out of the wound to jog over to the stack of firewood lined up against the cabin, grabbing a thickly cut log. Passing it back and forth between his hands as he returned to the body.

Placing the log on the torso as he resumed humming the song from earlier. You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder, seeing his bloody hand on the open lid of the trunk for balance as he stepped up onto the end of the crowbar sticking out of the corpse.

Pushing down on it with his body weight, using the firewood as leverage to crack open the rib cage. You felt sick to your stomach when you saw him jump on the crowbar, hearing the sickening crunch and crack of bone breaking under the force of his movements.

Grateful that you couldn’t see what was happening below the car, only having seen Ghost’s upper body’s part in the act. Nauseated, you pulled the pink silk from your face, gagging loudly as you held your stomach and bent over.

“Shit, baby you okay?” Ghost asked, coming around to check on you. He hesitated, knowing his hands were covered in… unsavory substances.

“Get back.” Your hand out behind you to stop him from coming closer. “Just do what you need to do and let me throw up in peace.”

“Oh, princess I’m sorry.” He said softly, unsure of what to do. He was in clean up mode, he’d never had company during this process before. So he did what he knew to be necessary.

He couldn’t have you throwing up and leaving any more evidence of your presence at this crime scene. He grimaced, wiping his latex gloves with a baby wipe from the pack you’d set out. Then unzipped a pocket on his backpack, pulling out a large ziploc bag filled with smaller ones. He dumped the smaller ones out, handing you the bigger, quart sized one.

“If you’re gonna upchuck, make sure it gets in the bag.” He said patting your back, nodding at your grunt of acknowledgment and leaving you to your own devices.

With the rib cage popped open, he wedged his hand beneath it, feeling the squishy, slippery surface of one of his your victim’s lungs. He braved it by clenching his teeth tightly to distract himself from the sound and sensation accompanying his methodical squeezing of the organ.

“Finally.” He sighed in satisfaction when he felt the hard lump of metal buried in the lung. He pinched it to keep the bullet from escaping his hand, not wanting to go through the disgusting process again.

Now with it between his fingers, he was able to dig around with his other fingers to pull the lung out of the chest cavity to access the area with both hands to dislodge the bullet.

“Got it!” He said proudly, dropping it into one of the small ziploc bags.

He dumped the body back into the trunk of the car, not bothering to removed the crowbar or slide the lung back where it belonged. Slamming the trunk shut he cleaned up his leather gloves until they were good as new, switching them out once more.

He disposed of his latex gloves in the same ziploc bag as the bullet, then made his way to you once again. He was pleased to see that you had not thrown up and the color was returning to your cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He said, rubbing your back as he picked up the bag and started walking toward the woods with you.

“Hey what’s that song you-“ You started, thinking if you heard the name of it you might be able to place it with the memory attached.

“Zachary, buddy.” Ghost grumbled, hearing the boys panicked squeal as he emerged from the cabin with his phone flashlight training on the two of you.

“Who is that?” He pointed to you, causing you to turn fully to face him. “Oh my god, you’re that girl.”

Ghost threw up his hands in frustration, dragging one down the side of his mask. “This is my lovely lady.”

“Leaving?” Ghost asked, putting his left hand in his hoodie pocket.

“Y-yeah.” Zach nodded, moving slowly as he walked toward his car which just so happened to be the Mazda.

“We still cool?” Ghost asked, signaling you to stay put while he ‘escorted’ Zach to his vehicle.

“Oh, yeah of course.” Zach said nervously as Ghost opened up the driver side door for him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for all this.” Ghost said, sticking out his hand for a handshake as Zach climbed into the car.

“Right.” He cleared his throat accepting the handshake which gave Ghost the opportunity to pull out his gun from his hoodie pocket, pistol whipping him with his temple as the target.

“I was really hoping this kid wouldn’t get in the way, he was the only decent one out of them all.” Ghost grumbled, throwing the comment over his shoulder before turning his attention to the unconscious boy in front of him.

He grabbed another zip tie, pressing Zachary’s finger tips against the plastic before placing his foot on the gas pedal and pulling the tie to secure it in place.

Ghost reached around, turning the key in the ignition and leaning over Zach to put the car in neutral.

“Close your eyes.” Ghost said sternly, watching you to make sure you were listening. “Good. Turn around, stay there please.”

“Thank you baby,” He called over his shoulder as he started to push the car, getting it rolling toward the lake. Once it was close enough he put it in park and shouted out to you again. “Cover your ears!”

Taking Zach’s hand he wrapped his fingers around the grip, positioning his pointer finger on the trigger and putting his other limp hand in the left hand cut out in the steering wheel. He pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping through the soft flesh on the underside of his chin and straight through his brain, exiting at the top of his skull, lodging in the dented metal roof of the car.

Ghost let the gun fall along with Zach’s hand before throwing the car in drive and pushing down on his knee to put pressure on the gas pedal. Quickly jumping out of the way as he slammed the door shut. Stumbling back and falling on his ass as the car sped through the yard and straight into the lake, sinking slowly.

Ghost stood up, dusting himself off before punching the air in a little victory celebration before he had to return to ‘caregiver to shell shocked girlfriend’.

Ghost approached you slowly, a soft hand on your shoulder to alert you to his presence. He pulled you into his chest and crushed you in a tight hug, squeezing you as he rocked side to side.

“I know this has been a long, really not so great night.” He said softly, resting his chin on your head. “But I need you to tell me something okay, I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

You nodded against his chest, sniffling while you prepared for whatever it was he had in store for you this time.

“Did you touch anything with your bare hands?” He asked, loosening his tight grip around you. “Think hard. I need to know so I can take care of it.”

Your mind raced, you’d touched a lot of things. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind that you might’ve left fingerprints. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if it had just been your original plan. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if you had just listened to Ghost and stayed put.

“Chalk and spray cans.” You said, your eyes wide as if trying to see the various items you’d left evidence behind on. “The truck. The window. That car, in the lake.”

“Did you touch anything inside the car?” He asked, tilting your head back to look at you.

“Not with my hands. I bumped the inside of the trunk with my arm.” You said, crossing your arms to hug yourself while he held you.

“Did you keep your hood up? Touch your hair or anything?” He asked, swatting at your hand when your lifted it to touch your hair.

“No I don’t think so.” You shook your head, hearing him sigh.

“Okay.” He took a breath, “here’s the plan:”

“You, sit your ass right here.” He said, pushing down on your shoulder gently to make you sit. “I’m gonna go get the cans, and wipe down the window. The truck… do you remember where you touched it?”

“The side facing the woods, then I climbed up to get that stuff from the tool box.” You said, holding up your still gloved hands. “But I had on gloves for the toolbox.”

“Perfect. Keep those on.”

He patted your head and went about his tasks, making the clean up quick as he jogged through the yard and picked up the cans he’d tossed in a pile. Taking an alcohol wipe to the window and then using more than a handful as he roughly scrubbed the side of the truck.

Thankfully, it seemed that daddy’s money kept Adam’s car well maintained so he didn’t need to worry about leaving one side of the truck shiny and the other dirty. This trip was probably the only time that truck had ever seen dirt. He used what was left of the chalk spray on that side of the truck just to even it out, throwing everything away in a grocery bag to shove in his backpack.

Everything was in place, everything was handled, everything was fine. It was all fine.

Except for you.

Diary Entry: September 4th early morning

Okay, so here I am, in a goddamn tree, sitting outside your cabin, watching you walk outside every so often to vomit. Your sister and Luke think you’ve got food poisoning or some shit like that.

You’re mad because I made you strip naked before I would let you climb back in your window. You’re mad because I had to bag up your clothes to get rid of. You’re paranoid because there hasn’t been a peep from across the lake.

Luke made you cry because he was woken up by ‘really loud pops’ and he’s ’almost for certain it was a gun, how did you not wake up?’.

I made you cry because I asked if you were okay.

You made yourself cry because you just had to take one last look as we walked away and you of course thought you saw a few bubbles float to the surface of the lake. ‘Oh my god, what if they’re still alive?’

Baby. They’re beyond dead.

Speaking of, can I just say that it was fucking hot as hell to see you standing there with my gun like that? Holy shit.

Then realizing there was a whole person you blew to pieces in front of you? Lord have mercy, Lucifer take my soul.

I wish I could say it to your face. It’s a compliment, but I don’t think you’d take it that way. You’re just so perfect. You’re beautiful even in moments like that, with those fearful eyes and that pretty pout. The little blush creeping up your cheeks and the squeak you made when I took the gun from you.

If you weren’t so distraught I would’ve ravaged you right then and there.

I forget sometimes that you’re just a girl. You’re a girl that I love and that I just wanted to have a good time with. I just wanted you to have a little taste of danger. I didn’t want you to murder someone on accident. I didn’t want to kill Zach.

But they’re both at the bottom of the lake and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

I’m sorry that I seemed insensitive. I really didn’t mean to. I just don’t understand why you’re grieving a person you didn’t know. The guy you killed was a gross, horrible, disgusting waste of space. Zach was okay, he’s just fucking stupid and had to come out and get a look at you.

You understand right? I couldn’t just let him walk off after he recognized you.

Maybe you’ve learned your lesson. When I say something, I mean it. When I tell you to listen, it’s for a reason.

When the little voice in my head says ‘hey that’s probably not a good idea’ I think I’ll start listening. Sometimes.

Maybe.

Diary Entry: September 7th

I’m picking up the vibe that you’re alittle bit upset with me. Like actually me, Anakin. You texted me that you got home but I was expecting you to come over or ask me to come over… since you’ve been gone the whole weekend. But you didn’t.

Are you just that freaked out by the whole thing? I told you it’s not your fault. I don’t know what else to do. People die. Sometimes they just die alittle earlier than they’re meant to. That’s just the way of things.

I was there. Yet I still feel out of the loop.

Cause there’s only so much information I have you know? I have my side of the story. But you’re keeping yours locked up in the Fort Knox of your mind.

You can’t just ignore me because of one little mistake on your part. Yeah, it’s not your fault but also it kind of is. You should’ve listened, but if I get back on that thought train I’ll be riding it for the next few stops.

So instead let’s focus on how I’m going absolutely insane because you won’t even let Ghost inside your apartment. I’ve never been mad at you but I’m so close to being pissed. A door stop? Really? New window latch?

If I didn’t have cameras in your place I’d be worried you found some other guy to do the window latch installation. I was pleasantly surprised (also proud) to see you putting it in all by yourself. If only it wasn’t simultaneously infuriating.

I think I’m going to have to do alittle research to see how I can worm my way inside without actually causing any damage to the door or window. If you’d just leave the apartment for even a few minutes I’d be able to go in through the door. But no, of course I wouldn’t be so lucky.

I totally considered throwing a brick through the glass of your living room window but then it’d be a few days before the super would ever even get around to fixing it, you’d have a gaping hole that anyone could climb in through and I’d be sleep deprived because I’d be sitting out there 24/7.

The only upside to that would be getting to see you. Although I have a feeling you’d be even more upset if I actually did do that… so I won’t, even though it’s very tempting.

Is it completely horrible of me to be driven by ulterior motives as well? Tempting… I’m all worked up and it’s really difficult to settle for my hand after having felt the flower of Eden between your pretty thighs.

I need you. I need you in a bad way. So bad I very briefly let myself wonder if it would be cheating if I bought a fleshlight and taped your picture on it.

Logically, duh I know it’s not cheating but it feels like it.

Maybe I can invent Clone-a-Coochie. You know like the make it yourself, at home dildo? Great business idea if we’re being honest. A perfect replica of your perfect pussy? Bitch, I’d put that on display.

‘What the hell is that?’ ‘Oh this? Yeah, this is my girl’s pussy.’

Seriously, it’s basically the same concept of the Roman and Greeks always putting flaccid dicks on their statues. It’s art.

Art that has more than one purpose! I love shit with more than one use. It’s pretty, it can be fucked, it’s pretty. Look at that. Three whole things.

But even if I did invent it, I’d still have to get into your apartment to make it in the first place and then I wouldn’t even need it anymore because you’d be there.

I’m rambling. This is what happens when I’m nervous. You’ve made me nervous. If I didn’t hate taking pages from notebooks I’d rip this out because I’m a fucking idiot and wrote it in ink so now the inner thoughts that should’ve been kept to myself are in permanent physical form.

Notebook law is that you can’t tear pages from a composition notebook. If there’s one law I’m not gonna break, it’s that one. Cause that’s just disgusting, vile.

Anyway, the B train has been tossing around some thoughts while the A train plowed through the brain car that gets rid of my bad ideas.

B train says I should figure out how to get in your bedroom window. There’s no fire escape under it. You’re on the second floor and there’s no way I’m rappelling down the side of an eight story building.

My need for instant gratification said I could commandeer a fire truck. They have really tall ladders. But then I’d have to worry about hiding a fire truck and that would be practically impossible so honestly, it’s for the best that A train ran that one over.

So I think my best bet is to violate every single safety protocol on ladders and push the dumpster over, stick a ladder on top and close my eyes and hope I make it to your window.

So, if I see you, I’ve succeeded. If I haven’t. Maybe don’t look out your bedroom window.

Ps.

I just don’t understand. I’m sorry, I don’t. This would be just so much easier if you’d flap your fucking jaws like you love to do. Just open your mouth and speak.

Date: September 7th

Anakin has called, texted, emailed, knocked, unlocked your door and been sent straight back across the hallway.

Unable to look him in the eye after what you’ve done, you’ve repeatedly ignored and pushed him away. You tell yourself it’s because you’re suspicious of his behavior, because he was spotted by your sister’s husband at that store. That’s why you’re ignoring him.

It has nothing to do with the fact that you killed someone and watched your other (stalker) boyfriend kill another man and stage the scene as a hostage-murder-suicide.

Ghost left those boys in the closet, zip tied together. You’ve watched the news everyday on a continuous loop for the last three days and you’ve not seen a single hint of information regarding the crime. They’ve not been reported missing. They’ve not escaped to your knowledge.

What was reported on however, was that a group of young men affiliated with the Alpha Sigma Psi Fraternity from the upstate university are under suspension pending investigation into their ‘hazing practices and illicit activities’. No names have been released, just ages.

It seems that Ghost really did think of everything.

How? How does he know what to do? How did he perfectly situate a very messy crime scene to fit the narrative of frat hazing gone wrong? How did he find the proof and get it to the university? Is there actual proof?

By the time those boys are found everything will have been taken care of and seen as a closed case before it’s even opened:

A young boy, a recruit, was taken out to the lake for a weekend hazing ritual. The last of his ‘trials’ to join Alpha Sigma Phi. All was well, drinking, drugs, strip pong. A bit of good natured, easy to clean up ‘vandalism’ to get him loosened up before they go into his final initiation phase. Recruit finds out what horrible things his soon to be frat brothers have done and now want him to do, then he attempts to escape, kills in self defense, ties others up and plans to dump the body. Recruit digs around in the corpse to get the bullet to get rid of the evidence, realizes it’s too late for him, feels guilty and kills himself.

The only loose ends are the other guys in the closet. Why not kill them too? And if you’re going to go through all the trouble of taking out the bullet, then shoot yourself… what’s the point of taking it out?

Maybe it just shows the panicked thought pattern of a scared kid who messed up, fell in with the wrong crowd and couldn’t get himself out of it without violence being involved. Maybe it shows that a girl and her masked secret boyfriend tried to have a little fun and ended up committing double murder.

Ghost explained that Zach saw you, would be able to identity you if he went to the police, there was no choice. He had to kill him to protect you.

When you questioned him about his gun and if it could be traced to him he told you it was bought third hand, unregistered and given as a gift. Not to mention he’s never handled it with his bare hands and he filed off the serial numbers after he received it.

Because ‘you never know’. What does that mean? You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to taint your image of him further.

There hasn’t been a linear pattern of thought since that night, thoughts, ideas, monologues, even fully fleshed out daydreams have been overlapping and going straight through each other at an alarming rate. Silence is a distant memory, the constant chatter of your inner voice has become your new normal.

A voice, a real one, called out to you for the umpteenth time today. Pounding on your front door, you didn’t even bother to look through the peephole. You didn’t get up and tell him to fuck off. You even turned the sound off on your phone hours ago, when you checked it you had over sixty messages. Some from Anakin, some from Ghost, Luke and your sister. Even Vigo from the diner. Everyone was concerned about your mysterious absence.

You just had too much going on at once to deal with answering any messages or questions. Too much happening to explain why you’ve called in for the past two days. Brain too full to comprehend the email from your English professor, wondering why you’ve not turned in your online quiz.

How can you be expected to lead your normal life after killing a living being with your own hands?

September 8th, 8:43 pm

Ghost got into position, feet firmly on the ground with both hands flat on the side of the dumpster, thankful it was on wheels as he pushed the heavy container toward your bedroom window. It scraped along the wall, metal on brick making a horrendous racket that he was relieved only lasted a few seconds.

He didn’t need a 20 foot ladder of his own. So naturally he swiped one from a construction site, planning to return if before the sunrise. After he precariously secured and balanced the ladder against the wall, atop the dumpster, he made his way up to your bedroom window.

Luckily this window also had an incredibly old style of latch and you hadn’t replaced it. So, he was able to use his heavy duty magnet to wiggle the curved latch out of the ring that held the window shut. The only difference from your living room window was that this one was smaller, still plenty big enough for him to fit through, and a bit higher off the ground as well.

The awkward position of the ladder, paired with his teeny tiny fear of heights made it the slightest bit terrifying to enter the window feet first. Head first was the only logical solution. He was long enough to hit the floor with his hands and ‘walk’ the rest of himself into your room without harming himself. So he did exactly that.

Bending at the waist he shimmied until his legs were bent at the knee to help him balance, both hands on the ground as he pulled himself forward enough to get away from the wall so that he could drop his feet down one at a time. It was awkward and uncomfortable, however worth it and necessary in his mind.

Once he gained entry and the window was shut and locked, Ghost walked out of your bedroom to hear your shower running. He was tired of waiting. Tired of attempting to give you a bit of space, alittle leeway for your healing and health. He did the only logical thing, pull out a bent paper clip to jimmy pinhole lock of your bathroom door knob.

He cheered for himself internally when he heard the faint *click* signaling he’d succeeded in popping the simple mechanism of the button lock on your side of the door. Carefully and quietly he entered the bathroom, making himself at home on the sink counter to wait until you were finished.

He closed his eyes, listening to the water pelting your soft skin and the sound of your fingertips scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, the product bubbling up to cleanse the day away. The sweet scent was soothing, he’d missed it, now that he was able to smell you, feel your presence again… he was a thousand times calmer. His mind clearing enough to think rationally.

You were living and breathing. You were okay.

You were tangible again. He hadn’t gone a single day without you in such a long time that he felt like an addict experiencing withdrawal during your time away. He was finally getting that first hit that soothed the hurt, steadied the shakes and warmed the ice of his veins.

Spotting your robe and towel sitting nearby, he picked up the robe and held it to his chest to transfer some of his warmth to it. It was a simple gesture, one that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but you were his everything and he’d been deprived of you for too long. He considered that maybe he needed to start doing more of these micro feel-good acts to keep you satisfied with him.

It wasn’t as good as tossing it in the dryer, but the dryer was at the laundromat and he really didn’t want to have to climb up that ladder again. Holding it to his chest was the best he could do and he hoped it was enough. He hoped he was enough.

The water shut off, the following sound was your hands wringing out your hair, the stream of water hitting the shower floor. Pushing back the curtain you looked down at the bath mat as you stepped out, nearly slipping when you lifted your head and saw Ghost sitting quietly. He gave an awkward, tiny wave and crossed his feet at the ankles, clasping his hands in his lap around your robe.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice quiet and distant.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said while you toweled off, holding up your robe for you to slip on.

You almost refused it. He wasn’t meant to be here, he hadn’t told you he was coming and you took precautions to make sure he wouldn’t get inside your home. Apparently, no amount of security could keep him away from you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him the right to treat you to such a simple gesture. Not when he looked at you the way he did. You could see it in your minds eye, the puppy dog eyes and wobbly bottom lip. He was sulking and his posture screamed it. Sighing, you turned around to insert your arms one at a time. The fabric was warm, a plush cotton hug that you didn’t expect but were glad to have.

Before you could turn around Ghost used a soft touch on your shoulder to make you stand still while he searched the drawer on his left for your hairbrush. The wet strands were plastered to the back of your neck beneath your robe, his leather finger separating it to lay it over the fabric and smooth it out just a bit before starting out at the very ends, working his way up slowly.

He was quiet, it was rare that he go so long without speaking. Almost seeming like he was waiting for you to speak first, but no words would come. What was there to say?

Once he finished with your hair he hopped down from the sink countertop, guiding you to sit atop the toilet lid. He kept a hand on you the whole time he set up your hair dryer and sprayed your leave in conditioner, like he was worried you’d vanish if you weren’t beneath his fingers.

The continuous droning flow of air from the hairdryer was warm and soothing. Like a cozy white noise machine. You could’ve fallen asleep with the way he was brushing through your hair as he dried it, the bristles massaging your scalp with every pass. He was taking his time, an occasional pause to separate and section off the next bit of your hair, a quick swipe of his thumb against your neck, leaning down to simulate a kiss to the top of your head with his mask’s cheek.

He didn’t poke and prod you for answers like you expected. He was patient, seemingly content to be in your presence even without the use of conversation. It was surprising when you factored in all the incessant texts and voicemails he’d left you since you arrived back home.

Taking both your hands he escorted you over to the sink, gripping your hips to boost you up onto the counter top.

“Open.” He tapped your cheek, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste, scoffing like he was offended when you tried to take it from him.

“I’ll do it.” He insisted, shaking his head at you before carefully cupping your chin and pulling your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb so he could brush your teeth for you.

“Ready?” He asked, rinsing off your toothbrush and passing off the mouthwash to you. Ghost watched as you swished and spit, helping you down from the sink and walking behind you with a hand on the back of your neck.

He picked out your pajamas and helped you into them, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. It was unsettling to see him so gentle and caring. This wasn’t his normal behavior. He had his sweet moments but characteristically he was moody, broody, grumpy and cynical.

“Do you think you can talk to me now sweet girl?” He asked, holding your face in his hands and swiping his thrumbs just beneath your eyes.

“You lied to me.” You said accusingly.

“No? What?” He asked, shaking his head like he was shocked you’d say that.

“You lied. You said you’d never hurt me, you’d never put me in danger.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d be so violent. I didn’t know they were that bad of people, I would’ve never-“ His voice was strained, his hands shifting so that one was on your neck, rubbing the column of your throat.

“Not that.” You scowled, “I’m talking about the gun.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I told you I had one, I told you it was in the bag! I even told you to use it if you had to. Where’s the lie?” He asked, getting upset at your accusations.

“It was loaded for real? Like you for real were playing Russian Roulette with my life? You could’ve killed me Ghost!” You smacked his chest angrily, shoving him away when he held out his arm to comfort you.

“No! No it wasn’t loaded I swear.” He said in a panic, standing up and going over to your still-packed bags from your weekend trip. He dug around in the pockets until he pulled out the bullet he’d carved your initials into. You noticed the last initial had been carved over in the shape of a heart.

“See? It never even touched the inside I swear.” He said, handing it to you. He’d saved it for you, tucking it away for you to see when you finally unpacked. You almost felt bad that you’d practically forced him to ruin the gift of the keepsake. An odd keepsake, but still.

“Then… then how do you explain the bullet in there? I never saw you load it.” You asked, confusion coloring your words.

Ghost sighed, trying to take your hand but you pulled it away. He grumbled, forcibly pulling it over by the wrist, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I haven’t and will never knowingly put you in harms way. You are my everything, without you I am nothing.” Ghost leaned in, testing the waters to see if you’d calmed enough for him to put his arms around you.

“I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of something I’d done.” You let him wrap you up into his warmth, his large hand cradling your head to his chest. “My purpose in life is to love you, keep you safe and happy. You becoming mortally wounded isn’t included in that list, not even in the fine print. Quite the opposite actually.”

“I swear on my life that it wasn’t ever loaded, you weren’t in any danger.” He whispered, “I loaded it before we went out, just in case. I like to be prepared and I’m so glad I was.” His other hand no stroking your hair. “It was fully loaded, you don’t remember seeing me load in another bullet for Zach did you?”

“No.” You winced at the memory, the sound of the car reving and splashing into the lake replaying in your mind.

“Exactly.” He nodded, his hands fidgeting. “My little doe, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. You should’ve said something instead of letting it fester up like this.”

“Ghost, this has been… I don’t know. It’s been overwhelming okay? I can’t think.” Rubbing your face and running a hand through your hair. “I ki- I hurt someone.” You choked out.

“You did so well.” He said softly “I’m very proud of you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t out there with you so you didn’t have to face it alone. I know it was scary.”

“Scary?” You scowled, “it was terrifying!” You raised your voice slightly.

“I- I was worried! You said you’d be quick and it felt like it was taking too long… the yellin’ and noise.” Your voice was shaking and you didn’t even notice it, still speaking passionately. “I was afraid you were hurt! I’m sorry I didn’t stay put like you wanted but I couldn’t just sit there and not know if it was you that I was hearing!”

”There was a whole group of them and your went in there all by yourself like an idiot!” You yelled at him in a way you hadn’t done before. This wasn’t out of anger or frustration, it was fear.

The concept of you being worried for him was foreign to him, he’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to have you feel so strongly for him as Ghost. He knew it was definitely not the right time to push you down and let your sweet pussy milk his cock dry. But damn it all, if he wasn’t at least able to kiss you right now he may spontaneously combust.

“You were worried about me?” He asked so quietly his words dropped in and out of the vocoder. Ghost’s hands coming up to your neck, his thumbs under your chin to tilt your head up.

”God, you’re so stupid.” It came out much less angry than intended, more of whisper that trailed off into nothing more than a shallow breath.

There he was again, pouring out emotion without ever showing you his face. His eyes on you were comforting, like an embrace from the first sunny day in spring. The balance between you had always been a fragile thing, but it seemed that just like those sunny spring days encourage growth, something had begun to sprout roots.

There’s always been something so fascinating about flowers, one day they’re nothing more that a seedling, then in a blink of an eye they’ve bloomed and you missed it. The shock of waking up to discover the most beautiful rose carved from nature’s velvet had finally adorned the thorny landscape it had to endure on its path to life.

You’d failed to see something budding up and unfurling, now the bloom was staring into your soul, asking to be picked.

”Hey, I was jus-“ Ghost started, feeling a bit miffed by your words an the quick, almost eerie change in atmosphere.

”I was afraid.” A statement that could fit many situations you’d found yourself in with him, but it was being put to use in a different context now. “I was worried you’d be hurt so bad I couldn’t fix it.”

”Whoa.” Ghost shifted, bringing you closer, “Don’t cry. I’m fine, I’m right here.”

“Just bruised up a little.” He said, nuzzling into your neck, the cold, hard plastic used to be somewhat of an uncomfortable feeling on your skin, though now it was one you realized you’d miss if it were taken from you.

“You should see the other guy.” The grin beneath his mask was so wide it could be felt in the way he tilted his head against your neck.

For the first time in days, you laughed. Tiny fairy bells making music that Ghost felt privileged to hear again, he felt honored to be the one to bring you the first bit of happiness, reprieve, after such a horrifying experience for you.

You pulled back, smiling and eyes shining with tears that you’d have no need to shed. Ghost watched, seeing the wheels turning behind your pretty eyes.

“Ghost, I lo-“ Just as you parted your lips to speak, sweet words on the tip of your tongue, the moment was shattered by flashing red on your bedroom TV screen. “Oh my god, they found it.”

Formerly blush pink cheeks quickly drained of color as the news camera panned over a serene lake, the still waters now rippling with movement as the image zoomed in on a car being towed from the depths, the reveal showed something hanging from the drivers side door was followed by a startled yelp of shock from the in-field reporter on the scene. The video paused, the image blurred as the in-office news anchors scrambled to collect themselves. The male cohost held a finger up to his ear, receiving information live from the scene.

”Apologies to our viewers, it seems that Rebecca, along with other press on site have been asked to return behind press lines. Investigators have a sensitive development in the case and are requesting all live newsfeed footage to be halted effective immediately.” The man nervously looked over to his female counterpart, sharing a nod she announced that they’d update as soon as officials allowed it, directing the camera to join the weatherman for the latest forecast.

”Alright, no. You’re not watching this.” GHost stood up, snatching the remote from the bed beside you and shutting the tv off. Going so far as to pop out the batteries and put them in his pocket.

”Ghost, this is what I’ve been waiting to see, you can’t just-“

”Oh yes i can.” He growled, holding up a hand to stop you. “I’ll monitor the news. Give me your phone.” He stuck his hand out in a ‘give it here’ motion as you reluctantly passed it over to him.

”What are you gonna do? Hold my phone hostage?”

“No, I’m going to seize your internet capabilities.” He snorted, pocketing your phone, gingerly pushing your head back and away like an annoyed father who’s had enough of his kid tugging on his shirt sleeve.

”What? What if i need-“

”To google when the Byzantine Empire collapsed?” He crossed his arms and chuckled when you gasped. “I’ve been paying extra close attention to your search history. I’m so glad you filled your time away from me with educational Roman lore rather than researching the est way to die.”

You couldn’t refute his statement, it’s true. You weren’t depressed so much as you were just bored during your self imposed isolation. “I think it’s completely normal to want a few quiet days after the weekend i had.” You huffed.

”Yes, it would be different if your weekend had been a drunken rager,” He said, swatting your hand away from his waist when you decievingly attempted to wrap your arm around him as a front to steal your phone back. “It’s highly concerning and i think i had a right to be worried considering your weekend involved double homocide.”

”I guess that’s fair.” You conceded, knowing you probably had done a real number on him. Everyone else was worried and they had no idea about the reasoning behind your temporary hermit-hood.

“If you desperately need to know anything else regarding Ancient Rome during your no internet time, call me.” He said, crossing his arms.

”Anakin has a phone and a laptop. I bet he’d let me use those.” You countered, raising an eyebrow to see if he’d budge.

”Oh I’m sure he would.” Ghost nodded, leaning back on your dresser with his arms still crossed. “But you aren’t going to ask him are you?”

”So what if i do?” Your eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. You didn’t like the tone he was taking with you, it was so accusatory.

”Well I wouldn’t do anything to stop you if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “Go ask him if you’d like.” He gestured to the bedroom door flippantly, challenging you.

”No.” You glared, frustrated that he was winning a game you weren’t prepared to play.

“Why not?” He asked, is hand on his masks chin as if he were stroking a beard in thought. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you ignoring the poor boy since you got back would it?”

”N-no.” You snapped back at him.”Even if it was, it’s not y-“

“Tell me your love life is not my buisness one more time.” He grabbed you by the upper arm, turning you to face the door. “And I’ll march my happy as over there and introduce myself.”

”You would’ve done that already if you really wanted to.” You wriggled free from his grip, rubbing your arm.

”Let’s go then.” He said, pushing you toward your bedroom door and opening it with a dramatic flourish just to pick at you a little more.

“Anakin’s not even home, he’s at work.” You lied, at least you thought you were lying.

”You’re right.” Ghost nodded, “My bad, I’ll wait til our schedule lines up.”

”Think he can pencil in… lunch on Wednesday?” He continued, pretending to seriously look at the desk top calendar on your bedroom desk. He missed the way your lips down turned in a frown as he teased you.

”What do you mean I’m right?” You asked, turning him by his shoulder to face you once more.

”Huh?” He he questioned, not having heard your question because he was distracted by the Rubix cube he’d swiped off your desk.

”Stop that, pay attention.” You scowled, taking it from him and rolling you eyes when he clearly seemed annoyed. “You’re worse than a child.”

”No, I’m actually pretty good at solving them, here let me-“

”Oh my god can you please just back track for a second?” You huffed, watching him reach for it again, this time your facial expression stopped him before he got half way.

”Sorry.” He mumbled, pulling out your desk chair to sit in, manspreading and leaning back. “What’s so important?”

”What’d you mean I’m right?” You asked, gesturing to the door. “About Anakin not being home.”

”Well, he’s not home. You said so yourself.” He shrugged, reaching back out for the rubix cube. You left his hand empty, crossing your arms and walking away for a moment.

”Do you know where he is?” You asked, not turning around.

”Um no.” He laughed, standing up and appearaing behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. “Why? You afraid he’s gonna come barging in or something? We could give ‘em a little show.”

”Stop it. I’m serious.” You snapped at him and it took him back for a moment. He slowly released you, putting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Sorry doll, i didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said in a hurt tone, wondering what exactly he’d said that had went too far. He’s said much worse things about himself to you and he’d never gotten a reaction like that.

”You… you didn’t.” You sighed, turning around and glancing up at him for a moment before grumbling frustratedly. “I’ve just been thinking too much. I- I don’t know I’m just worried. I haven’t seen him, I don’t know if he’s home or… and I’ve been in my head… it’s been so much and-“

“Sweetheart.” His voice was low and warm as he addressed you, like a soothing balm.

“You know where I am.” He said softly, the weight of his words settled in your chest. You couldn’t put your finger on it, a strange tug pulled at your heart, telling you there was more to be said between those words.

Ghost sighed, returning to his spot behind you, tentatively reaching for you, giving you time to push him away again if you wanted. When you showed no signs of objection he pressed his half-hard cock against your ass, making you lean forward slightly to give himself better access to push up against your clothed cunt. A low grunt escaping him as he felt the warmth between your thighs.

“Feel that?” He asked, breathing raggedly, his hands coming to rest on your stomach before slipping one up under your shirt to settle in the valley of your breasts. “It’s me baby.”

“I’m here, I’m right here.” His voice soft and sweet, an odd comparison to the obvious upset in his voice just moments before.

“I can fuck it all better.” His gloved hand leaving your stomach in favor of honing in on the bundle of nerves hidden in your panties.

How could he expect anything other than enthusiastic consent when he spoke to you in that tone? The textured leather of his middle finger circling your clit in a feather light touch. His cock twitching, the rumble of the groan trapped in his chest resonated through you as he held you close. This wasn’t the normal experience with Ghost, this didn’t feel like a thrill or the promise of something new.

This felt meaningful and it scared you.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice, too afraid to speak your thoughts and feelings into existence. He let out a sigh of relief that you agreed, though internally he was preparing himself to hold back. He’d been so pent up, so needy and now he was here and you were vulnerable in a different way than ever before… he couldn’t in good conscience fuck you like a sex doll. Not even if he really, really wanted to. (He did.)

“Sit, get comfy.” He promoted you, tapping your ass with two fingers to prod you along so that he could turn off the lights and close your curtains. “Uh, I got rid of your pink silk thingy…” he said apologetically, hating that he had to use the rough, black cotton bandana on you again.

You didn’t answer, it was too difficult to separate your inner voice from your flow of spoken dialogue, having the two mixing right now would be disastrous. You just nodded, keeping your lip tucked away behind your teeth.

Ghost gingerly tied on the blindfold so he could remove his gloves and touch you with his bare hands, warm palms and rough fingertips dancing across your flesh as he removed the pajamas he put on you earlier. He was taking his sweet time to put you at ease, but it only served to make you feel… anxiety.

“Can’t see nothing, right doll?” He asked, smoothing his palm over your thigh, rubbing the blunt point of the mask’s nose through your folds, making you jump at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, chewing your cheeks while a wave of nerves washed across your abdomen, feeling him lift up slightly to removed his mask.

Soft lips met yours after feeling his bare chest move up your body, settling his muscular body over yours. His pierced tongue sliding across your lips, clacking your teeth on its descent into your mouth to caress and lick the sweetness inside. His boxers barely containing the warm length pressed firmly against your wet core.

Rough, careful hands brushed over your tender flesh in the most sensual manner possible. It was nearly unbearable, the tingling heat that formed in the pit of your stomach from just the simple act. Ghost rutting his hips against you to give you the friction you so badly desired, his cock twitching when you moaned against his lips.

He hummed lowly, nodding in understanding as he kissed and nipped his way between your thighs to nestle his tongue into your sopping entrance, licking and slurping up the slick mess gathered there. The bridge of his nose bumping against your clit, the pressure deliciously fleeting. Those strong hands of his massaging and kneading your breasts, moving down your sides to your hips, one staying there to hold you in place while the other slowly twisted two fingers into your cunt, pumping them deep before withdrawing almost completely, just to do it all over again.

“Ghost?” You panted, mewling pitifully. He couldn’t answer verbally, not when you were so close, he didn’t want to risk losing his rhythm, he didn’t want to risk you identifying his voice without the mask. So instead he reached up his unoccupied hand to cup your cheek and brush his fingers over your lips.

“S’good.” The soft, slurred praise dripping with something more.

He smiled, wide and smug as he wrapped his lips around your clit and flicked his tongue rapidly, coaxing those warm and fuzzy tendrils to wrap around you just a little tighter before snapping and bringing you the rush of ecstasy he knew you needed. It took an unreasonable amount of self control for him not to poke fun at you for cumming so quickly, having to stifle his snicker in the fat of your thigh.

After you’d released him from the iron grip of your legs, he lifted up, not bothering to wipe his face before he put his mask back on. Forcing your legs back apart despite the quiver in them, he tugged down his boxers and nudged the tip against your clit, sliding it through your folds until he notched it in the dip of your cunt.

“Don’t whine darlin’.” He chuckled, hearing you squeak from the sensitivity as he pushed inside slowly. “I know it’s been a couple days since you’ve had a proper fuckin’. I’ll take care of you.”

With a shaky inhale he plunged into your depths, bottoming out just to circle his hips, making sure you felt him in every corner of your tight cunt. He leaned down, resting his mask’s forehead on your collarbone, moaning loudly at the feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around his throbbing length.

Ghost had never fucked you like this before. He’d never been gentle, yet here he was, treating you with the utmost care and only the most tender touches. His calloused thumb finding its way between your bodies to circle and roll your clit just enough to have you bucking up against him.

“Why’re you bein’ so sweet t’me?” You breathed out, eyebrows pinched together and upturned.

“I wanna give you what you need.” He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask into the side of your neck, rolling his hips to drive himself deeper, to angle his cock perfectly.

“Yeah?” You whimpered, arching your back, your breasts pushing up against him.

“Course I do, my little doe.” He cooed, sliding an arm under you to press you even closer to him. “Always.”

He had you so needy, so willing. Wet and panting, a mess of sweet sweat and slick. There wasn’t a thought in your brain other than him. His hands, his cock, his voice, his lips. Ghost was drawing inhuman noises from your kiss bitten lips, each and every breath bringing a new form of praise to his ears.

Ghost had you so fucked out, so blissful and beautifully undone that it crept up your throat and clawed its way out. You’d thought it, over and over and over again, the lines between your inner and outer voice were crossed and was something that could never be taken back.

“Ghost… love you.” Your soft lilt reaching his ears, his movements halting in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” He asked, his voice cracking under the weight of your confession.

“I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ You started, grabbing his wrist to stop his shaking hand from removing your blindfold. “N-no don’t.”

“But-“ He stuttered, unsure how to handle the fiery mix of emotions that rammed through his chest. “I want you to… don’t you want to see?”

“I want to.” You admitted softly, though you shook your head. “But I don’t think I can.” You whispered, feeling the hurt and confusion that filled him up and spilled over.

“I… I don’t-“ He seemed at a loss for words, stuttering over the syllables until it was a jumble.

You heard rustling, felt his weight lifting from the bed and the creak of leather as he put his gloves back on. His socked feet shuffled across the floor so he could retrieve his boots and stomp his feet back inside, not bothering to lace them or even tuck the laces inside. He tossed your clothes at you, the fabric landing on your stomach with a dull *thwack*. You heard something clatter against your nightstand and before you even had time to form a coherent thought, he had slammed your bedroom door shut. Leaving you naked, alone and in the unforgiving darkness behind your blindfold.

September 8th, 9:54 pm

Anakin was overly tired and much too distracted to pay attention to what was going on around him. He wasn’t expecting anything other than the droning of his bedroom fan and the occasional creak of the floorboards in the apartment above his.

Perhaps it was complacency, maybe it was his overconfidence, or it may have been that he was simply distraught; he failed to do his after Ghost routine. Yes the mask was under his dresser. Sure, the backpack and his boots were hiding in the top of his closet just beneath the crocheted monstrosity his mother called a blanket. But his hoodie and jeans were crumpled in the floor, inside out, but it didn’t really matter, after all they were black like rest of his wardrobe.

Even worse? He’d left on his socks. His long black socks with lime green toes and heels.

“What the fuck do you want man? I’m busy.” A male voice grumbled.

“Can you be un-busy? I’m out.”

Anakin heard a sigh, then the low din of the bar in the background as his friend conferred with someone else.

‘April? Can you be me for like 30 minutes?’ Trevor asked. ‘C’mon, it’s Anakin… No, you can’t take it to him. I don’t care! You owe me for yesterday and you know it. You’re sure? Thank you babe, I’ll be back quick I promise.’

“I can be un-busy with time constraints.” Trevor said with a slight laugh. “What are you wanting? I’m walking to my car right now.”

“A quarter.” Anakin’s voice was scratchy, he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “What… what else have you got these days, huh Trev?”

“Anakin you better not be telling people that I-“

“No, you idiot I’m asking for myself.”

“I thought you didn’t do anything other than smoke?” Trevor asked, the slightest hint of concern seeping past the curiousness in his tone. Anakin no longer heard the constant background noise of the bar, instead it was the crunch of gravel and the loud slam of a car door.

“I don’t!” Anakin snapped, quickly correcting his harshness. “I- I don’t. I was just curious that’s all.”

“Whatever.” Trevor snorted, starting up his car. “Well I’ll just bring my whole bag in case you’re more than ‘curious’.”

“Alright, yeah that’s… okay.” Anakin nodded to himself and cracked his knuckles, holding his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “When you get here I’m on the right side of the building, I’ll be out on the fire escape.”

Anakin opened up the large window and left it open, the cool air flowing in and clearing his apartment of the nervous energy he’d let build up. He paced the floor, talking to himself under his breath while running both hands through his hair. It was a short drive from the bar to the apartment building, Trevor dusted off his hands and climbed the drop-down ladder until he reached the landing, walking up the stairs to where Anakin sat.

“Damn. You look like shit.” Trevor scoffed, holding out his hand to clasp his with Anakin’s, pulling him up to his feet.

“I know.” Anakin grumbled, climbing in his window and standing with his hands on his hips.

“Huh,” Trevor looked around the living space, a tiny smirk in the corner of his lips. “Didn’t take you for a girly girl.” He snorted, picking up a large Kuromi Squishmallow.

“Fuck off.” Anakin snatched it back and held it in his crossed arms against his chest. “It’s a pillow.”

“Oh, sure.“ Trevor snorted, a big grin on his face while he unzipped and searched through his bag to pull out the correct ziploc bag with the quarter of weed Anakin asked for. “S’okay. I won’t tell.”

”I believe i deserve a discount for possible emotional scarring in the event I come to work tomorrow and your little girlfriend starts laughing at me.” Anakin snatched the baggie from him and laughed.

”I’ll let you have it for free if you let me take your picture with it.” Trevor grinned, pulling out his phone.

”Throw in some K and we’ll call it a deal.” Anakin said with a smirk.

”Done!” Trevor snapped the picture and cackled to himself, tossing his phone in is bag and doling out two pills, dropping them in the ziploc bag of weed Anakin opened.

”Get out before I kick you out.” Anakin snorted, shoving Trevor toward the window, watching him leave before he turned around and hurried to his bedroom. Grabbing his large glass bong from his dresser along with his cigarettes and a lighter, he returned to the fire escape to grind and pack a full bowl of pot. Packing it in with the butt of his lighter before lighting it and taking a long rip. Holding his breath for a moment, letting out a cloud of smoke as he leaned back on the rusted metal steps.

Rolling one of the pills between his forefinger and thumb. Anakin stopped for a moment crossing his feet at the ankles and looking up to the nighttime sky, light pollution in the city was alm,ost always too great to make out many of the dimmer stars. Though after the last few days it seemed luck had finally turned around, even if it was only just the clear sky, it was better than nothing. Hit after hit, Anakin let himnself melt into the warm fuzzy feeling while searching for constellations.

——————————————————————————

You tried to relax, to think rationally. It would do no good for anyone if you went looking for trouble. Life was already complicated enough, it was bubbling up day after day and you didn’t want to be the one who let it boil over. Your little devil was back and it’s whispers were louder than before. Rightfully, you felt you deserved the truth. It couldn’t be that bad. After all, you’d already ruined everything by not keeping your mouth shut.

Ghost did it all the time.

You moved quickly before your confidence ran out, finding him on the fire escape after using the key he’d entrusted you with long ago when you’d given him a key to your apartment. You were startled to see him, Ghost had said he was out and you hadn’t planned on him being home. This was supposed to be a quick in and out, a bit of snooping to put your mind at ease. The space reeked of weed even though he’d closed the window, or at least partially closed it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy relighting the bowl on taking another long rip. It was almost unfair how easily he distracted you. He always looked so pretty in everything he did. The way his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he tilted his head back to blow out the smoke, his eyebrows pinching together with the deep inhale from the bong, his hands flexing as he struck the lighter and brought it to life.

He seemed… preoccupied enough. Sneaking around couldn’t be that difficult, could it? He’d never know if you did it quickly enough, you were already here, you may as well try it.

Staying closer to the wall you went to his kitchenette, you’d learned one of the best ways to tell if a man has been cheating is to check the fridge, trash and sink. If there’d been another woman in here, you’d most likely find evidence there and not have to venture any farther. Surprisingly, it seemed Anakin’s normally well kept space was seeing less attention than usual. You’d never seen more than a cup or two in his sink at once, now one whole side of the sink was stacked with dishes. You picked up the glasses, looking at the rims for any sign of lipgloss or lipstick, but found none.

You kept glancing over at the window, making sure Anakin wasn’t gathering his stuff to come back inside. There were no ‘girly’ drinks in his fridge, other than the ones you’d left there and none of them were missing. The wine bottle you’d gotten a week ago was still there, unopened. The trash showed no signs of anything suspicious, not even the dust from the vacuum held a clue to any wrongdoings.

It wasn’t enough. You knew in your gut that there was something going on, regardless of another woman being involved or not. The thought of Anakin cheating had given you plenty of time to reflect on things you would’ve otherwise not given a second glance to.

Another look toward the window proved that Anakin was still busy, engrossed in his own world. Swallowing your guilt with a thick gulp, you made a quick dash across the line of sight from the window. Once you safely reached the samll hallway, you stood between the two doors on either side of you. The courage you’d gathered up to sneak in was wearing out and fast, the bathroom would be the quickest, the bedroom would possibly hold more than you could bare to digest at the moment.

Taking a deep breath you opened the bathroom door and closed the door, standing in the dark for a moment before flipping on the light. After your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, you got to work, nothing in the trash. No changes in the shower products, the cabinet hidden behind the mirror had been rerarranged but it seemed like it was only done to clean the shelves. The cabinet below the sink held it’s usual cleaning products, extra shower stuff and towels. Nothing seemed out of place and you were beginning to feel even more guilty than you were origionally. Closing the cabinets you moved on the two drawers along the side closest to the door. The top one opened up just fine, nothing but jewlery for his piercings and his cologne, along with other random bits and bobs.

Pulling out the bottom drawer you found that it stopped halfway, getting jammed by something and preventing you from pulling it all the way out. You wiggled it and shuffled through the items inside the drawer, feeling around to see if you could dislodge whatever it was that prevented it from being opened. You reached the back of the drawer, nothing inside seemed to be the cause, so you decided to reach a bit farther and feel along the back of the drawer and the walls. Thinking that maybe something had fallen from the top drawer and gotten jammed in the tracks for the bottom drawer.

Then, there was a noise. The window. Quietly shutting the drawer you listened, hearing Anakin muttering to himself and his footsteps stopping, the clunk of his bong hitting the coffee table and the sound of him plopping down on the couch. You had no choice but to pretend like you meant to be here, you were here to see him.

While you were busy preparing your ‘i missed you, I’m sorry’ speech, Anakin turned on his tv and Xbox, waiting for it to boot up and load Fallout. He wasn’t ready for bed, he wasn’t willing to be completely alone with his thoughts, so a distraction was in order. He jumped up from the couch and slunk into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and returning to the couch. Kneeling in front of the coffee table he used the beer bottle to crush up one of his pills, sliding his wallet over to him he pulled out his debit card and chopped it finely, lining it up on the edge of the table. He cracked open the beer bottle and took a swig, holding it in his mouth while leaning down to snort half the line. Swallowing the beer to help with the bitterness of the powdered pill, getting ready to start the process over again.

You slowly turned the doorknob, stepping out into the short hallway to see Anakin kneeled beside the couch, his head tilted back sniffing and wiping his nose like it itched. He swallowed, letting out a sigh and a hiccuped laugh, bring the bottle to his lips for another drink.

”Anakin?” You gasped. His head snapped over to the side, bloodshot eyes wide and confused as he stared at you, choking on his beer, coughing and spitting it out accidentally. He stood up slowly, keeping his balance by laying a hand on the couch’s armrest.

“H-hey sweetheart.” He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile, eyes darting around from the embrassment of being caught. Caught doing something you didn’t ever expect to see. “I missed you baby, ‘mere.” His words slightly slurred and his actions not quite right as he beckoned you over.

”I-i had a whole apology speech planned out… i didn’t-“ You stuttered, looking him up and down, “You- are you okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it darlin’.” He casually waved your concerns away as if it were silly of you to ask such a thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t reall thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t really matter anymore now does it? You’re here now and you’re all i need.”

”No, you can’t just brush this off Anakin.” You said, walking over to him and looking down on the coffee table and what was left of the white powdery substance. “What is that?”

”Baby,” Anakin sighed, running his hands nervously through his hair. “I’m sorry okay? I just needed something to… to take my mind off stuff.”

”What stuff?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed in irritation at his vagueness. “Us stuff?”

”Well, yeah.” He nodded, his jaw set in a hard line while he shifted on his feet. “Where’ve you been? You disappeared on me.” He whispered, reaching out to take your hands in his, though you swiftly shut down his attempt.

”Where have you been?” You turned the attention back where it belonged, on him.

”Home.” He said, gesturing to his living space. “Called Trevor.” He motioned to the coffee table and the various paraphernalia. He tried reaching out for you again and was rejected once more.

”What did i do?” He asked, his face scrunched up in pain from your reluctance to touch him.

”I don’t know. You tell me.” You crossed your arms and stared him down.

”Please, baby just talk to me.” He whined, gently grabbing your shoulders and making you sit down. “You left for your trip and you were fine, you come home and you treat me like I’ve got the plague.”

“What is that stuff?” You pointed to the table angrily.

”Ketamine. Your turn, tell me what’s going on.”

”oh my god, no you can’t just expect me to let that go so easily Anakin!” You huffed spotting the other pill in the ziploc bag. “More? Really?”

”Don’t judge me, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this kinda thing.” He said angrily, pulling it from your hands and fishing out the pill. “Look, I’ll get rid of it.”

He grumbled, standing up and dragging you by the arm along with him toward the bathroom where he held the pill in front of your face, dramatically lowering it down over the toilet and dropping it in.

“There, flush it.” He crossed his arms, nodding toward the plunger. You rolled your eyes and pushed down on it, watching the little white pill disappear. “See? No big deal, it’s not like I’m some kind of pill head.”

“Now. Your turn.” Anakin walked on jelly legs back into the living room, sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, manspreading in his boxers and tshirt.

“I’m… I don’t know I guess I’m mad at you.” ‘I’m mad at myself.’ You sighed, kicking off your shoes and sitting beside him.

“Me? What did I do?” He made a face, pulling up his bottom lip and licking one of the hoops in his snake bites.

“Did you go to a sex shop?” You asked flatly, narrowing your eyes.

“While you were gone? No.” He snorted, wincing when you smacked his shoulder. “Ow! Fuck.” He groaned, running his hand over it to roughly massage it.

“Crybaby.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Jesus someone shit in your cheerios didn’t they?” He grumbled, rolling his arm in a wide circle with his arm bent at the elbow.

“I meant like in the time we’ve been together. Have you been to a sex shop? Lauren’s husband swears he saw you at one.” You accused, watching him closely for any telling body language.

“Yeah I did.” He nodded, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Am I not allowed to buy stuff for our sweet love makin’?”

“What’d you buy? I haven’t seen anything new.” You asked, ignoring his ill-placed tease.

“Some lube, jewelry for my dick piercing. S’got a little vibrate-y thingy.” He gestured to his crotch.

“That’s it?” You asked, still uncertain. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It was a surprise! Gods what’s your deal baby?” He asked, getting up, steadying himself with a hand on your head before he walked off to his bedroom. You tracked his movements without following. Glancing down at the floor you did a double take.

“See look? Here.” He came back, holding up the two items and shaking them. The jewelry hadn’t even been taken out of the package yet.

“Did you get new socks?” You asked, looking from his feet to his face and back again.

“What are you the fucking FBI now?” He scoffed, obviously getting agitated at your insistence on questioning him. “Yeah they’re new. Would you like to see my receipt officer?”

“I don’t like your attitude.” You scowled.

“You don’t like my- oh, you know what?” Anakin stomped back over to you and grabbed you roughly by the jaw. “I don’t appreciate being interrogated by a bitch half my size.”

“Anakin Skywalker!” You gasped, pushing his hand away. He’d never acted like that with you before, it was startling, confusing… could one pill have really made that big of a personality change so quickly?

“I think I’ve earned the right to be a little bit of a dick don’t you think?” He asked, staring you down as he pointed at your chest, poking you aggressively as he toward over where you sat on the couch. “You planned a trip without me, didn’t tell me until you were getting ready to leave. You’re gone all weekend, you’ve been back a few days and haven’t even spoken to me and then you show up to my place and start questioning me like I’ve done something wrong!”

“What about you huh?” Anakin yelled, getting upset in a way you’d never seen him do before. “I think I should be the one asking you questions!”

“Ani! Ani calm down it’s okay!” Frantically you tried to calm him down, standing up and putting your hands on his chest in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry Anakin I- I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just… I’ve been on edge lately and that’s no fault of yours.”

“Damn right it’s not.” He muttered. Walking the room in a quick back and forth line.

He breathed in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he dropped both hands down to his sides and sat down on the couch. Leaning over with his head between his knees as if he felt nauseous.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin sighed, clearing his throat, clasping his hands together behind his head, resting them on the nape of his neck. “I’m really sorry princess. That was uncalled for.”

“Anakin, let’s just take a second okay?” You said quietly, making your way to the fridge to grab yourself a water. By the time you unscrewed the cap, Anakin had already chugged the rest of his beer.

“Can we… how about we just forget it? Let’s just pretend I got home today.” You suggested, a hopeful look on your face, your plan having been so horribly thrown askew that you knew there was no salvaging it.

“We can start over.” You suggested quietly. es, you were terribly upset with him but it was **so hard to stay that way. Especially when he had every right to be angry right back at you. “I’m sorry too. Please? Let me make it right…”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It should be me.” Anakin whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

“You gotta know that I love you princess. I love you so, so, so much.” He led you back to the couch, holding your hand and pulling you into his lap. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, never. I know that you’re disappointed in me…”

He looked up at you with glacier blue eyes, ones that had started to melt. Salty tears filling up to the brim and ready to flow over in a hot trail down his cheeks. He was holding his breath like he was scared to breathe, like he was afraid that if he did, he’d be pushed over the edge.

“I made a really bad choice and I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, his voice small and fragile. “It was wrong of me. I know that.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You frowned, carding your fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, it was just this once right? Only the one pill?”

“That’s not…” Anakin sniffled, hiccuping before he tilted his head back on the couch cushions,covering his face with his hands. He let out a few half-sobs, stopping himself by forcing them down and holding his breath. “I don’t, I didn’t mean to do it okay?”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He spoke through short, shallow inhales, his head jerking with each labored breath. “It’s bad. I’m bad.”

“Anakin no, no you’re not bad! Why would you say that?” You shook your head, eyebrows pinched together. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“But it- I never should’ve… I shouldn’t have done it.” Anakin swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He started to bounce the knee you weren’t sitting on, pressing his forefinger and thumb over his eyes and using his other fist to rhythmically pound on his thigh. “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you, I never have. I never will. You’re too good. You’re so good.”

His voice was squeaky, chopped up and uneven. The large, strong hands you’d come to love settled on your hips and waist, squeezing slowly, rubbing up and down as if he were trying to comfort you.

“C’mere.” He hiccuped, keeping his eyes closed as he wiped his cheek on his shoulder, pulling you flush to his chest. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

“Please, I promise I’ll be better. I swear.” He whispered, his words hot and breathy against your skin as he buried his face in your neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Anakin I’m not�� I’m not leaving you over something so, well I don’t want to call it insignificant. Because it’s not, it’s serious.” You said calmly, your own tears threatening to break through. It was so difficult to see him so upset, it was clear he felt immense guilt for this. “But it’s okay, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. You’ll be just fine.”

“You won’t go?” He sniffled, squeezing you tighter. “You promise?”

“Course I promise.” You nodded, the guilt of your previous thoughts, your original plan for coming here, all the things you’ve done… it all came rushing to the forefront.

“Why don’t you take a shower, it’ll help you feel better.” You suggested, really only wanting a few minutes of peace to sulk alone. “Just shout if you need help.”

“I don’t need your help to wash my ass.” He snorted, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, taking in a stuttered breath.

“I don’t know Ani, you’re really wobbly.” You said sympathetically.

“You can shower with me as much as you want, but you will not be showering me.” He glared at you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Sponge baths are the only exception.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, thankful that he was always able to lift the weight of heavy emotion off of any situation, with just a few words.

Anakin just smiled and ruffled up your hair before trudging off to the bathroom. You’d never seen him switch up emotions that quickly and so fiercely. His guilt ridden sadness was so intense you feared he may have went into a full fledged panic attack if you hadn’t have been able to de-escalate it fast enough. Then, not too long before that was his flip of the switch anger and aggression.

The moment the bathroom door shut you cleaned up the coffee table, wiping it down to make sure none of the pill powder was left behind. You moved to put away his bong but thought… maybe you deserved a hit after all the trouble you’ve had. So you had one, only one. Someone here needed to be sober and Anakin was obviously not the man for the job.

————————————————————————

“So what do you do there? When that happens?” You asked, pointing to the tv screen while Anakin was playing Fallout 76.

“What? Get rad poisoning?” He asked, sitting comfortably with his feet propped up while you laid your head in his lap. “I can find a doctor, eat some fungus.” He snorted. “But I’d have to find them first so I just use RadAway. This little thingy right there.”

He pointed, showing you what he was talking about, explaining it and the different functions of the Pip-Boy his character uses to track radiation, inventory and the like.

“Okay but you’re wearing a radiation suit right?” You asked confusedly. “So why do you still get poisoned?”

“Baby, it’s just like real life. The suits only withstand so much, plus mines already damaged so it’s not as effective.” He chuckled, looking down at you to play with your hair for a moment while he waited for the next room to load after picking a lock.

“Oh. Okay yeah that makes sense.” You giggled at yourself, enjoying the way he gave you attention even when he was preoccupied.

“So what’s the quest?” You asked, shifting a little bit to get more comfortable.

“Uh gotta figure out what happened to this lady and her Order.” He said nonchalantly, “there’s supposed to be some kind of jewelry along the way some where. The Eye of Ra I think?”

“What’s that do?” You asked.

“That’s a great question. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue.” Anakin hummed under his breath, practically trashing the room he was in while searching around.

“Y’know, this game is kinda cute.” You grinned, obviously trying to tease him.

“It’s not cute. It’s apocalyptic, how is that cute?” He laughed, looking down at you and tugging your hair playfully.

“It’s all the retro stuff! It’s cute.” You shrugged, pointing to a few different random items on the screen. “I like the music too.”

“I know you do.” He laughed, glancing down again before refocusing on his tasks.

You stayed quiet for a while, just listening to him self-commentate and curse under his breath, it was nice. Normal. The most normal interaction you’d had since before your trip to the cabin. Even after the argument… disagreement? You’d just had, Anakin still made you feel safe and secure, loved and cared for. Even when he was in his own little world, focused on something else, he was still doting on you with soft touches and quick glances of adoration. He was so easy to forgive, he made things easy to forget.

He made it easy to be at ease.

Curled up next to him with a comfy blanket tucked around you, his thigh for a pillow. The warm cedar scent of his soap and the soft scent of his laundry. It was all a big, cozy bundle of security.

While he waited on another load screen, you began drifting to sleep with his hand in your hair and his soft whispers of sweetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a blissful and serene peace lighting up your face; only to turn pale and ashen as your body jolted awake at a familiar tune.

You’d finally placed that song. You’d heard it here, right here.

Part Seventeen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @ashisabitgay @purriteen

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[sscieloz]

Love me back

Yoo Jimin x university student!reader

Synopsis: she wants to let go. you need her to let go. none of you can.

Warnings: nsfw. smut. biting. angsty I guess.

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: my darlings <3

Karina didn’t turn to look when you sat beside her in the park. She knew who it was. She called you herself, not many minutes ago.

Hey

Ik we’re fighting, but could you come, please?

An address. Another message, too, after a few minutes. Almost as if she were wary of sending it.

It’s cold.

You stared at your phone as the bubble kept going on and off in your conversation, until it stopped. Finally, she’d decided. About that, at least.

And I miss you

Needless to say, you went to meet her. You’d never deny her anything, no matter how much you wanted to. No matter how much she deserved so.

You found her sitting on a wooden bench, staring at the lake with a red nose and cold hands. You could tell she was freezing, even with the thick jacket she wore, yet you didn’t move to take yours off and offer it to her. No, you two were long past this.

“I’ve had a stressful week.” She sighed, hiding her face in her hands. Like the usual, she didn’t directly acknowledge you, and you knew why. You’ve been doing this long enough to know that this was all you meant to her: an escape.

A distraction, if you were lucky enough.

“You always do.” Your words were as apathetic as your face, serious as you shove your hands into your pockets, trying to suppress a shiver yourself. It was freezing cold indeed, so whatever it was that had Karina pissed must’ve been something serious, to have her out of the dorms so late at night.

You were curious, although not curious enough to give in just yet. After moments of waiting for her to say something, anything, you rolled your eyes, sitting beside her on the wooden bench. She closed hers, depriving herself of the grand view of the river, and rested her head on the crook of your neck. You allowed her to do so, naturally.

There’s very little you’d not let her do to you.

“Aren’t you tired of this?”

“No.” Her answer is immediate, steam coming from the heavy breath she’d let out. “I could never get tired of you.”

Perhaps she was truthful in her words. You loved her, and you knew she loved you too, in her own way. It would never work out: with her being an idol, famous and successful, and you being just a university student. You were aware of that, and it was the reason you promised yourself to not answer her calls, whenever she reached out for you; you’d only get hurt, in the end — the right thing to do would be to end it, to protect yourself and your feelings.

However, as much as she did mean the empty promises she gave you, Karina knew just what to say to lure you in. Not just your body, the idol knew your soul too well. Her words were, most of the time, carefully calculated to break out your boundaries and get you to do whatever it was that she wanted you to. Even though you knew her tricks, you couldn’t help but to fall into her web every time.

She sighed, shrinking as she hummed against your neck, sniffing your perfume. Still the one she’d given you on your birthday, she was pleased to note. “Can I go to your house?”

Her voice was just as small and quiet as she made herself be, hugging her knees under the moonlight. Even in all her confidence, she was still a bit wary; afraid this would be the day you finally realized she was too damaging to you. She’s deeply afraid you’d leave her. She loves you — it’s complicated, but oh, how she does. She can’t fathom losing you.

“Not to talk, I assume.” Your tone, usually playful, was still serious. Karina moved her head from you, urging to be able to look in your face. Your beautiful face, kind and sweet and made to love her, staring at her with a blank expression — much different from the look of love you had before.

But that was ages ago, when you were both naive and pure, not at all ruined by the idol world. After all, generally, love is not enough.

The older girl shook her head, carefully observing your actions. “No, not to talk.”

You sighed. Unfortunately, you couldn’t help it: Karina was a siren, the holy sounds of her moans luring you in until you found yourself so deep in the water there was no other option but to drown.

You were, indeed, so exhausted of this cycle. One of her calling you solemnly when she wanted to rant or fuck until she was spaced out enough to forget her problems away for a few hours. She didn’t show any interest in your likings, your hobbies, or your friends. It was crystal clear that you were nothing but a stress relief to her.

Still, you were weak. Unfortunately, you loved Karina wholeheartedly, and you were eager to get whatever she wanted to give to you, no matter how much your logic was against it. How could you not? The sex was too good.

Aware of that, you got up, still refusing to display any emotions once you started walking, knowing she’d follow.

-

There is no warmth in your kiss. You bumped into the sofa, hurrying to the bedroom without separating your mouth from Karina’s. Her clothes were nearly ripped off her body, her sharp fingers doing the same with yours. It’s been too long since you had touched her pale, soft skin — you feel such lust for her in your heart, you nearly suffocate. Your desire for her body —for the little she gives you, it all drives you insane. It isn’t healthy, being on her will 24/7 and bending to all her wishes, but again, you can’t help it. She’s lured you in.

You positioned yourself between her legs, moving her long, raven hair from her face so you’d be able to stare at her properly. She looked flawless, impeccable, and waiting for you to take whatever you wanted to. It was just how she was: you could take and take, yet she’d never give you what you truly wanted.

Pretty girl with a pretty mind and a rotten soul, every sacred inch of her curves sculptured to leave you damned. To hurt you.

You sighed, biting her lips, then her skin. You loved to see your artwork on her— almost like a small victory. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to hurt.” She breathed deeply, hot moans coming from her mouth as you placed slow, wet kisses on her neck. “I deserve it.”

Kissing the space between her chest, you, murmur. “I’ve dreamed about being able to do so many times. Unfortunately, I can’t. I fucking can’t.”

She ignored your words, pulling you in for another messy kiss.

Karina always promised herself she’d stop reaching out to you. She knew you’d always give her attention, and part of her truly wished she could stop hurting you. She had never intended to. But she was also weak, and she needed you too much. How could she let go of you, when you were the only person who knew the real her? You’re the keeper of her dreams, her insecurities, her deep, darkest fears.

“You should.” Her voice had no trace of humor, as she traced her sharp nails through your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You knew her well enough to recognize the silent mocking, silently glad for your lack of self-respect.

For the sake of peace, you chose to ignore her words. Getting up, you delighted yourself with the way her eyes ravished your body, not at all in a rush while you got the strap she’s used to. She gulped, her mouth watering at the sight presented to her: how beautiful you were, all hers. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t true: you’d always go back to her, in the late hours of the night. She’d just have to call, and you’d drop everything and go.

As it should be.

Back in bed, you spat, spreading your saliva over the plastic toy. Karina had already knelt, salivating in front of you. Your hands grabbed a hold of her hair, shoving her face onto it rather harshly. “Take it.”

And oh, she did. Karina was eager, sucking and mixing your saliva with hers as she took it all in, the silicone gagging her throat and your grip not getting any weaker, forcing her to allow her mouth be fucked even when she started to get dizzy, dark dots appearing in her vision due to the lack of breathing. Only then, you let her go, watching her recompose herself.

“Very good. How much do you want it?” You teased, tone still serious, groping her thin waist until your fingerprints could be seen, reddening her impeccable porcelain skin. Her pretty ass was begging to be bruised, slapped all over, so you did as such.

Karina’s response came from her body, before she could even forge the words to answer you. Her back arched, and lewd, loud moans immediately left her mouth.

“Too m-much.” She gasped, whining once the strap met her entrance, not entering her properly. “Y/n… give me it all, p-please.” Karina pushed her hips back, trying to get you to be quicker.

Ever so impatient, as always. Never in the mood to play your games; they were of no interest to her.

Still, you did not give in, brushing her wet cunt as you pleased, giving her just the tip before pulling it out once again. You felt how hot and desperate she was, which made you hum in pleasure, too. At least she was suffering, in a way.

“Please, my Y/n. I’ll do everything, I promise.” She begged, little tears prickling from her eyes. “Everything you want, I swear. I’ll give you anything. A new laptop, jewels, a car, just say it but please, p-please…” Her pleads got even louder, self-control wearing thin.

It hurt— no, it maddened you to know she thought she could buy you with superficial things. You’ve never asked for any of those, not even when you were (unofficially) together. You’ve never wanted anything but her love. She’d never understand that.

It made you crazy, upset and so damn pissed off that she couldn’t see so.

Huffing, you pushed her down on the bed, entering her whole with your cock’s full length without giving her any time to adjust. It was rough, without a care— just how Karina liked the most.

Your roommates were away for the weekend, thankfully. Karina has always been a vocal mess, specially in bed, but it was obvious her current routine was taking a toll on her; her moans were sinful, the incoherent mumbles she let out making them close to screams, and she was so responsive. Her entire body twitched whenever you’d place your mouth on her skin.

Sucking her lips, then her neck, and oh, she nearly came in the spot when you started biting. Bruising her arms, her abdomen, her waist— your favorite place to mark her. She’d wear your hickeys proudly, smiling and mumbling about how clumsy she had been during rehearsals whenever somebody asked her about it, brushing off their concern.

It was all too much: your bite marks, mouth so hot on top of her, making sure no place was left unattended, paired with your thrusts, hard and fast, her grasps being how much she could breathe in between. Filling her up, adoring her so much.

She loved this.

“Y-you’re the best, my Y/n.” She let out, her body bumping against the mattress. Being loved by you was her favorite thing, she recalled. How could she have ever forgotten about it?

You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying something you’d regret.

“I hate you, for being so pretty.” You told Karina, pinching and twisting her nipples as you thrusted into her, hard and fast. She rolled her eyes, clearly too lost in her pleasure to give your thoughts any attention. You turned her around, eager to be presented with her pretty ass, wiggling with the thrusting motions. You gave it a single slap, a loud whine being followed from the older girl. “I hate you for not loving me back.” You held her by the hips, angling higher so you could reach her g-spot. “And I hate myself for loving you so much.”

Your words, even though they didn’t make much sense in Karina’s current fucked out mind, along with your movements and stimulations, were more than enough to have her reach her high. Letting out a high-pitched cry, Karina came, holding your arms tightly in attempts to not fall apart. You let her do so, assuring she went back to her senses before you could let your body fall beside her, the strap that hung on your hips latched on the ground.

“Will you ever give me anything more than that? More than hiding and being nothing more than a late night fuck?” You asked, straight to the point.

A year ago, you wouldn’t have had the guts to ask such a question. You lacked confidence, and you feared she’d disappear if you such as mentioned whatever it was that you two had.

Not anymore, though. Even more than insecure, you were tired; you couldn’t endure your situation anymore. A few days before her call, you’d made peace with the thought of not having her to yourself anymore. It would be harsh, but it was the best for you. You deserved better.

Even if you would never love anyone more than you loved her.

Karina stayed silent, looking down onto the covers. It’s enough answer for you. Sighing, you got up, handing her clothes and gesturing to the door.

“Then go elsewhere to get whatever you want, next time. Let me be free, Karina, please.” You hated yourself for sounding so miserable, the crack in your tone serving as clear evidence of how hurt you were. You loved her so much, but you couldn’t do this any longer. You needed more.

And Karina, even with all the confidence, money, and influence she had, could never give you such a thing.

She took the cue, doing as told. Her eyes— her big, dark, sad eyes stared at you quietly, and she opened her mouth to say something. After minutes of waiting, though, she doesn’t. Still silent, Karina left, launching you a last sad, pitiful look.

She was a mess; a beautiful, doomed angel, trapped in an industry that saw her as nothing less than a product, made to make money out of, until she was worn out. She struggled, naturally. It was a cruel place, one where people cared very little about her well-being and her actually feelings.

However, Karina was not yours to worry about anymore. Never was, for a fact.

[copperbadge]

how did u psych urself up to go to therapy? my executive function has been awol for like 2 years and it's gotten to the point where it's wrecking my ability to do anything. i'm scared to waste a bunch of time and money going and getting told i'm just lazy or that the problem is just me

Happy to talk about that! But this is really two issues, so I gotta do a fly-by real first on "scared of getting told I'm just lazy". :D

It sounds to me like you're aware intellectually that laziness isn't the issue. You know this is an executive function issue and not a personal flaw, but I definitely get that it's hard to internalize that. So I'm going to drop links here to some discussion of "laziness":

How do you know you're not just lazy? (ask sent to me -- it's long, but you can skim for the laziness bits if you want.)

Lack of motivation means you are avoiding pain (second ask in response to the first)

Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price

These are essentially my proofs when I want to remind you that laziness is a label that stigmatizes an innate behavior -- inability to act is real, laziness is not. If a therapist tells you that you are lazy, and ESPECIALLY that you are the problem, you should fire that therapist. Don't even stay the rest of the session if you don't want to, just say "I see we are not compatible," and bounce. I don't think the odds are high that you'll encounter that, but on the off-chance that you do, that's a bright neon sign that they're a bad therapist.

In fact I would open with that pitch: "I'm struggling with executive function and the self-perception that I'm really just lazy. I need help with the actual executive function issues but also with how I view myself because of them." The therapist's response will tell you a lot about whether they'd be a good fit.

So with that out of the way...

I eased myself into therapy with the speed of a small child entering an extremely cold lake. It helped a lot that all of my therapy has been virtual via Zoom, so a lot of stuff that would have been a barrier, like going to the physical appointments, discomfort in a strange space, etc. were swept away.

I didn't even want to see a psychiatrist for my Adderall prescription, but I knew I needed help and medication seemed to be my best option, so with the assurances of several people that it wasn't therapy so much as mental health maintenance, I saw a psychiatrist. And he was lovely! (I just met with him yesterday to go over my next few months of scrip.) For a while that was all I did: talked every month to a kind person who asked specific and measurable questions about my mental health -- mood, sleep patterns, ability to work, hobbies -- without getting especially personal. I thought, okay, I can handle this, I can probably handle more, so I asked him for a recommendation for a therapist.

He looked at the network of independent practitioners he belonged to (Clarity Clinic Chicago, if you want an example of a good network) and found me a couple of options. I got extremely lucky to find someone I felt was appropriate for me right out of the gate, though some of that was also knowing what criteria I had: I wanted someone who explicitly stated they specialized in adult ADHD and disability, and who seemed like they were interested in addressing a whole person and not a single issue. When we met she seemed nice, wasn't pushy or judgey, was familiar with spoon theory and disability activism because she also has ADHD, and didn't blink (or ask overly invasive questions) when I said I was very uneasy about therapy because of past experience. She was comfortable with the ambiguity I brought -- I basically said "Look, I think this is something I need but I'm not entirely sure what my goals are yet, it's just I only recently found out I have ADHD and I am rethinking a lot of stuff," and she was like fine, let's rethink it together.

It still took me a long time to start talking about anything meaningful, but she handled the non-meaningful stuff as if it was serious and important, which helped. Admittedly I have really good insurance so I pay $20 a session for therapy, which also helps; it's pretty negligible in terms of health costs for me. I can afford to dawdle.

So, all that said...my path may not be an option for you, but I think it indicates the kinds of options you have. You don't have to jump into serious and heavily emotional processing first thing if you don't want to. You can shop around for therapists and you can drop any bad ones you encounter speedily, or if you find one you immediately like you can still spend time getting comfortable before dropping into the heavier stuff.

I would suggest that if you have a prescribing psych or doctor for any kind of mental health meds, ask them if they have a recommendation. If you don't have that, ask around people you know or believe have access to therapy and see what they think. If those aren't available to you or you're uncomfortable with that, I'd do a search for licensed therapist and your health insurance, or see if your workplace has an employee assistance program that can recommend you someone.

Good luck! I hope you get what you need. Lord knows I've been there.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 puff was so good please write more with this prompt I am begging bro 😭🙏

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 froggy meetings

paring: sirius black x f!reader

➥ In which,Sirius Black chases you across the Hogwarts grounds with a frog on your head, only to realize he's fallen for your brilliant chaos.

warnings: reader is a gryffindor (not mentioned but yeah), fluff ofc, whole lotta nonsense, reader is a #yapper, sirius realizing his feelings, reader seems more interested in frogs than sirius lmao

2.2K words 

Sirius Black didn’t think he’d ever be willing Sirius Black never imagined he’d find himself chasing someone through the Hogwarts grounds with a frog perched precariously on their head, but life had a way of surprising him. In fairness, he should have known better the moment you stood in the Gryffindor common room, arms spread wide like a conductor about to lead a symphony, and declared at full volume that the Guardian of Puddles had made an urgent pilgrimage to the Great Lake.

Most of the common room had ignored you, accustomed to your antics, but Sirius—Sirius never ignored you. So, naturally, here he was, trudging after you under the moonlit sky, with James’s laughter fading in the background and a lingering promise to “write this one down for posterity” following his retreat.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Sirius called out as you darted ahead, your pace set somewhere between a dramatic march and a full-on sprint. He quickened his steps, not quite running but definitely jogging to keep up.

“Do you think the Guardian of Puddles questions where the puddles are?” you shot back over your shoulder, your tone dripping with mock indignation. To emphasize your point, you spun around mid-stride, arms flung out like you were addressing an invisible crowd. The frog atop your head wobbled precariously but stayed put, giving an almost affronted croak at Sirius’s doubt.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Right. Silly me for doubting the omniscient powers of puddles.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, spinning back around to face the path ahead. “Glad to see you’re catching on.”

The two of you continued your peculiar journey across the grounds, the castle shrinking behind you as the sprawling Great Lake came into view. Its surface glimmered like liquid silver under the starlight, the soft rustling of the trees and distant hoots of owls blending into the faint lapping of water against the shore.

You came to an abrupt halt at the lake’s edge, and Sirius had to swerve to avoid barreling straight into you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, your gaze fixed on the vast expanse of water before you. Sirius followed your line of sight, his breath misting faintly in the cool night air.

“Now,” you began, breaking the silence, “this is where the real magic happens. The Guardian of Puddles will commune with the underwater realms, and together, we shall uncover truths that have been hidden from humankind for millennia.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he tilted his head to look at you. “Bold claims,” he said, his tone dry but amused. “What kind of truths are we talking about here? Winning lottery numbers? The secret to James finally getting Lily to say yes?”

You ignored him with the flair of someone entirely above such petty questions, crouching low to the ground with a reverence that made Sirius pause. Gently, you lifted the frog from your head, cradling it in your hands like it was a sacred artifact. Your expression softened in a way that caught Sirius off guard, your usual mischief tempered by something quieter, almost tender.

He knelt beside you, his earlier teasing forgotten as he watched you place the frog on a flat rock near the water’s edge. The creature croaked once, then settled, its bulbous eyes fixed on the shimmering lake ahead as if it truly was about to deliver profound wisdom.

Sirius Black never imagined he’d find himself chasing someone through the Hogwarts grounds with a frog perched precariously on their head, but life had a way of surprising him. In fairness, he should have known better the moment you stood in the Gryffindor common room, arms spread wide like a conductor about to lead a symphony, and declared at full volume that the Guardian of Puddles had an urgent pilgrimage to the Great Lake.

Most of the common room had ignored you, accustomed to your antics, but Sirius—Sirius never ignored you. So, naturally, here he was, trudging after you under the moonlit sky, with James’s laughter fading in the background and a lingering promise to “write this one down for posterity” following his retreat.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Sirius called out as you darted ahead, your pace set somewhere between a dramatic march and a full-on sprint. He quickened his steps, not quite running but definitely jogging to keep up.

“Do you think the Guardian of Puddles questions where the puddles are?” you shot back over your shoulder, your tone dripping with mock indignation. To emphasize your point, you spun around mid-stride, arms flung out like you were addressing an invisible crowd. The frog atop your head wobbled precariously but stayed put, giving an almost affronted croak at Sirius’s doubt.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Right. Silly me for doubting the omniscient powers of puddles.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, spinning back around to face the path ahead. “Glad to see you’re catching on.”

The two of you continued your peculiar journey across the grounds, the castle shrinking behind you as the sprawling Great Lake came into view. Its surface glimmered like liquid silver under the starlight, the soft rustling of the trees and distant hoots of owls blending into the faint lapping of water against the shore.

You came to an abrupt halt at the lake’s edge, and Sirius had to swerve to avoid barreling straight into you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, your gaze fixed on the vast expanse of water before you. Sirius followed your line of sight, his breath misting faintly in the cool night air.

“Now,” you began, breaking the silence, “this is where the real magic happens. The Guardian of Puddles will commune with the underwater realms, and together, we shall uncover truths that have been hidden from humankind for millennia.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he tilted his head to look at you. “Bold claims,” he said, his tone dry but amused. “What kind of truths are we talking about here? Winning lottery numbers? The secret to James finally getting Lily to say yes?”

You ignored him with the flair of someone entirely above such petty questions, crouching low to the ground with a reverence that made Sirius pause. Gently, you lifted the frog from your head, cradling it in your hands like it was a sacred artifact. Your expression softened in a way that caught Sirius off guard, your usual mischief tempered by something quieter, almost tender.

He knelt beside you, his earlier teasing forgotten as he watched you place the frog on a flat rock near the water’s edge. The creature croaked once, then settled, its bulbous eyes fixed on the shimmering lake ahead as if it truly was about to deliver profound wisdom.

“What’s it saying?” Sirius asked, his voice dipping into a whisper as though afraid to disturb the moment.

You tilted your head, feigning deep concentration. “Shhh,” you hissed, holding up a hand. “It’s complicated. Frogs speak in riddles.”

“Do they now?” Sirius’s lips quivered into a grin, but he stayed quiet, indulging you.

“Absolutely,” you replied with utmost seriousness. Then, after a dramatic pause, you turned to him, your expression grave. “It says you’re far too cocky for your own good.”

“Does it?” Sirius shot back, his grin widening. “Anything else, or is that the extent of its divine insight?”

You nodded solemnly, gesturing toward the frog as though it had just delivered a revelation of world-altering importance. “It also says you should stop underestimating the power of puddles. They hold entire worlds, Sirius. Entire. Worlds.”

This time, Sirius couldn’t contain his laugh, the sound bright and warm in the stillness of the night. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously brilliant,” you corrected, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Sure,” he conceded, still chuckling. “Let’s go with that.”

The frog croaked again, louder this time, and the two of you turned to look at it. For a moment, the banter fell away, replaced by a quiet stillness. The lake’s rippling surface seemed to stretch endlessly before you, its edges fading into the shadows of the distant shore. Sirius found himself glancing back at you—not for the first time tonight, but this time, he really looked.

There was something about the way the moonlight caught your face, highlighting the curve of your smile and the way your eyes sparkled with that strange, otherworldly curiosity. It was the kind of expression that made Sirius’s chest tighten, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever stop to think that maybe you’re the one with all the magic? Not the frog.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. For a second, your usual bravado faltered, replaced by something quieter, almost shy. Then you smiled—soft, bright, and undeniably you.

“Maybe,” you said lightly, though your voice held a warmth that made Sirius’s heart stutter. “But if I am, I’m still keeping the frog. He’s an excellent sidekick.”

Sirius grinned, leaning back on his heels. “Fair enough. But if you ever need a co-pilot for your puddle adventures, let me know.”

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Only if you promise to keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” Sirius said, standing and offering you a hand. “You just make sure to lead the way.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The frog croaked its approval, hopping closer to the water’s edge as though ready to resume its role as the enigmatic guide to your peculiar mission.

Together, you stood side by side, gazing out at the vast expanse of the lake. The world felt a little quieter, a little more magical, as though the absurdity of the moment had cracked open something deeper—a promise of adventures yet to come, and perhaps something more.

You tilted your head, feigning deep concentration. “Shhh,” you hissed, holding up a hand. “It’s complicated. Frogs speak in riddles.”

“Do they now?” Sirius’s lips quivered into a grin, but he stayed quiet, indulging you.

“Absolutely,” you replied with utmost seriousness. Then, after a dramatic pause, you turned to him, your expression grave. “It says you’re far too cocky for your own good.”

“Does it?” Sirius shot back, his grin widening. “Anything else, or is that the extent of its divine insight?”

You nodded solemnly, gesturing toward the frog as though it had just delivered a revelation of world-altering importance. “It also says you should stop underestimating the power of puddles. They hold entire worlds, Sirius. Entire. Worlds.”

This time, Sirius couldn’t contain his laugh, the sound bright and warm in the stillness of the night. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously brilliant,” you corrected, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Sure,” he conceded, still chuckling. “Let’s go with that.”

The frog croaked again, louder this time, and the two of you turned to look at it. For a moment, the banter fell away, replaced by a quiet stillness. The lake’s rippling surface seemed to stretch endlessly before you, its edges fading into the shadows of the distant shore. Sirius found himself glancing back at you—not for the first time tonight, but this time, he really looked.

There was something about the way the moonlight caught your face, highlighting the curve of your smile and the way your eyes sparkled with that strange, otherworldly curiosity. It was the kind of expression that made Sirius’s chest tighten, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever stop to think that maybe you’re the one with all the magic? Not the frog.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. For a second, your usual bravado faltered, replaced by something quieter, almost shy. Then you smiled—soft, bright, and undeniably you.

“Maybe,” you said lightly, though your voice held a warmth that made Sirius’s heart stutter. “But if I am, I’m still keeping the frog. He’s an excellent sidekick.”

Sirius grinned, leaning back on his heels. “Fair enough. But if you ever need a co-pilot for your puddle adventures, let me know.”

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Only if you promise to keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” Sirius said, standing and offering you a hand. “You just make sure to lead the way.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The frog croaked its approval, hopping closer to the water’s edge as though ready to resume its role as the enigmatic guide to your peculiar mission.

Together, you stood side by side, gazing out at the vast expanse of the lake. The world felt a little quieter, a little more magical, as though the absurdity of the moment had cracked open something deeper—a promise of adventures yet to come, and perhaps something more.

[drabblesandimagines]

Lemon Tarts

Clive Rosfield x female (Branded) reader Fluff, 5,828 words

“Come on, out of there, eh? I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – he’s introduced himself several times now – jokes with a half-hearted laugh.

He’s crouched down in front of the alcove where you’ve sequestered yourself, your body pressed right up in the corner, your head tucked in-between your knees to try and make yourself as small as possible.

Gav’s broad shoulders won’t permit him entry, his reach coming up short when he’d got down on his knees and put an arm in to catch your wrist to guide you back out – cursing himself under his breath when you’d flinched at his attempt.

Your master was harsh both in what he demanded in labour and how he treated you. However long ago, you’d decided it was better to not talk back and, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he’d bought you for your conversation skills - for what worth is there in anything a Branded has to say?

The days in his service were repetitive – just the faces around you would change as the curse wore away at their supposed worth. Two new Bearers had been acquired over a tenday ago, apparently tracked by a group of people calling themselves Cursebreakers when they broke into the barn where you all slept. They explained they were here to take all of you somewhere safe, to free you from your master, all whilst weapons hung from their hips.

They’d escorted you into a covered wagon in the early hours of the morning with a firm grip, before the three of you were transferred onto a skiff roped up at a small dock, tucked away off a beaten path. The boat set sail across the blighted waters of a lake, heading towards some sort of Fallen structure in the middle. From there, you were led up onto a dock and then into a goods lift, ascending up to a new fate. You had tried to keep your panic at bay on the wagon and skiff ride, swallowing down the anxiety that had churned in your stomach and threatened to come up your throat but the moment the lift reached the main deck, the fear of the unknown won and you ran without further thought.

You ran with an energy you didn’t know you still possessed, ducking around outstretched arms. You didn’t make it very far before your mind caught up with your legs - where could you even go now? You’re in the middle of a lake, you don’t know how to swim, you’re trapped.

Now that you’d ran from them, disobeyed their commands to stop, only punishment could follow. At least with your old master you knew what to expect for whatever he deemed as ill behaviour, despite your best attempts to fulfill his demands, and what to brace for when you failed.

The alcove had caught your eye – a gap between two wooden walls made of thick planks. You’d slipped in with more than a hope that you wouldn’t be spotted as you did, perhaps they’d think you’d jumped into the waters below and drowned.

Luck was not on your side – when had it ever been? - for as soon as you’d pressed yourself into the very back, a scarred face had appeared in the opening.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” Gav chides, stepping back to put his hands on his hips before his face falls. “Not that that’s a threat, like! I mean, it’s not… practical, is it? Especially when we’ve a lovely, warm bed with your name on it.”

Warm bed…?

It’s a trick.

Don’t be so stupid.

“Gav, what’s going on?” An almost amused voice draws the scout’s attention elsewhere and the man steps out of view, entering into a hushed conversation. You risk a look between your knees, seeing the railings and a bit of the sky beyond – dusk beginning to fall.

A few moments later, you hear the voice again – gravelly, but cautious and gentle. “Hello, my lady.”

The lack of sarcasm in their address of you – for who would call a Branded my lady –prompts you to peer between your knees. Another rather broad-shouldered man is knelt down on one knee - shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black leathers, the hilt of a great sword showing over his shoulder.

“My name’s Clive. Mayhaps I could have the pleasure of yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder, but Clive keeps his gaze on you. “Or ever - that’s what the others said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, like. Said they didn’t know her name, and not sure how long she’d been with him.”

“That’s all right. You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to, my lady. We just want to help, but we can’t help much whilst you’ve tucked yourself away here, can we?”

He waits for a few moments, testing the waters.

“We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you,” Clive presses on, tone still gentle and genuine. “And a very cosy bunk for you to rest in, where you won’t be disturbed. And food of course - I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Molly - she’s our cook - has made some exquisite lemon tarts for afters. You can have mine, if you like.”

Your mouth salivates at the prospect of hot food. It had been a while since your stomach felt content - yesterday’s meal had consisted of vegetable peelings after a poor day of harvest, shared with the chocobos…

It’s all too good to be true.

“I know you must be frightened – to be taken from everything you’ve known for so long, but you have my word that we wish only to help you.” He places his fist over his heart, hoping it would prove his sincerity. “Though I understand we cannot be helping by hovering over you like this, so I will leave you be to think on it a while, my lady.”

Clive gets to his feet with a soft grunt and takes a few steps away back over to where Gav was stood, shaking his head in defeat.

Gav sighs, wearily. “S’pose I could ask Bartram to knock the planks out at the side so we can get her out that way?”

“No.” Clive’s tone is firm. “Definitely not. I could see her body trembling – she’s terrified.”

“We can hardly leave her in there.”

“She just needs time – we can give her that. It’s not ideal, but she’s at least safe. If her health turns, I’ll consider more drastic action but patience is best for now.”

“Maybe she’d be more comfortable speaking with someone who’s Branded?” Gav muses, scratching the back of his head.

“Good idea, Gav.” Clive claps his on the shoulder with a heavy arm. “I’ll ask Molly if she can pop by with some stew – food and a friendly, familiar face might work wonders."

--

You don’t emerge later though, despite Molly’s best efforts. She gives you a bright smile and soft, encouraging words – a tale of how she was rescued, proudly demonstrating the brand on her cheek, what she does now at the Hideaway, and then offering the bowl of stew in her hand.

The aroma makes your mouth water and stomach ache. Molly carefully places it at the threshold, not wanting to encroach on your personal space. Says she’ll leave it there, alongside a waterskin, before she bids you well and disappears from view.

If you shuffled forward a little, perhaps stretched out your arm as far as it would go, the bowl would be in reach to drag back to eat.

You don’t, though.

You won’t.

It’s a trick.

--

Clive had made himself scarce, hoping Molly's presence would be more calming than his own, and left her with instructions that if you were to emerge, or engage in conversation, perhaps she could coax you into going to the infirmary next.

He busied himself in search of the seamstress, eventually finding her in the bunks, sorting through piles of material stored away in a cupboard.

“Hortense, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods, turning to face him. “What can I do for you, Clive?” “I wondered if you had any spare blankets?”

“Oh, yes – I’m always working away on more as we grow our ranks!” Hortense beams, turning back to the cupboard. “I'm not surprised you asked – there must be quite the draft in those chambers of yours.”

“Ah, no - not for me. One of the rescued Bearers from today is a little shy, sequestered herself in an alcove in fright. I'm hoping she'll emerge before nightfall for food and to go to the infirmary, but I do not wish for her to catch a chill off the lake if she does not...”

“Oh, the poor mite!” Hortense frowns at the idea, but sets to thumbing through a pile of blankets in search of one in particular – a fleecy grey one in the end - and bundling it up in her arms before she hands it over to him. “Well, this one should keep her nice and cosy, it’s plenty thick enough. Tell me she is at least properly dressed, Clive.”

“The usual attire.” A polite way of saying the threadbare cloth shirts, trousers or dresses that Bearers were permitted by their masters, sans shoes as always. “I doubt she’ll accept any changes of clothing currently, but I am sure she’ll come round. We just need to be patient.”

“How could she not? Please, do let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“This is plenty, I assure you.” He smiles, holding the blanket aloft in demonstration and leaves her to her work, heading the long way down to the Ale Hall to avoid the main deck. He spots Molly back in the kitchen behind the counter, looking forlorn.

“I’m sorry – I tried, I really did.” She scoops a generous portion of stew into a bowl and hands it off to an awaiting Bearer as she talks. “I told her my story and everything, but it’s almost like she’s frozen in place. I half-worried the curse had took her in front of my eyes. I left the stew - I hoped with some privacy she might eat without me there watching her.”

He places a large palm on her arm and give hers a sincere smile. “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate you trying.”

“It’s nothing. Here”, she hands him the bowl of stew she’d just prepared. “Can’t forget yourself. And before you ask, yes, everyone else has been fed.”

Clive smiles, wryly, and takes the bowl with a grateful nod.

After he has had his fill, he heads out at the top of the steps, planning to keep his distance for a while longer up in the mess before an attempt to coax you out or gifting you the blanket. As his eyes cast over the alcove, he finds an unwelcome guest with their head and shoulders wedged firmly into the entrance.

“Torgal - away from there!” Clive snaps with a growl in his throat and the wolf hound instantly retreats to his master’s side with a whine and a tilt of his head, unsure as to what he's done.

He sighs, giving the beast a pat on the head. “I am sorry, boy, just... that bowl wasn’t for you – that was for our guest. I am afraid you may have scared her.”

Clive walks over and drops to a knee to peer within. His heart sinks to find your head tucked further between your knees than it had been previously, in addition to your body now trembling almost violently.

By the Founder, you must’ve thought he’d sent his beast to devour you.

“My lady, I am so very sorry that Torgal frightened you. He must’ve picked up the scent of the stew and followed it, mistaking it for his dinner. His sense of smell is unparalleled.”

Torgal barks as if in agreement, and you jump in place at the noise. Clive hushes the wolf with another pat on his head. “Sorry – he still acts like a puppy sometimes, but he is a very loyal friend of mine and he means you no harm. Allow me to fetch you something else to eat.”

He lays the bundled blanket down and pushes it forward, until it’s less than an arm’s length away from you.

“It gets a little cold on the deck in the evenings, my lady, but this should keep you warm until you feel comfortable enough to come inside. I’ll be back in a moment with some more food, and Torgal will keep away – I promise.”

He gets to his feet, picking up the bowl as he does and Torgal quickly follows behind at his heels as he heads back to the Ale Hall. Molly’s eyes widen in delight as he places the empty vessel on the counter, but Clive shakes his head.

“I’m afraid Torgal got to it first – licked it clean. Do we have any left?”

“Ah.” The cook’s face falls. “No, I’m afraid not – some of the Cursebreakers were feeling particularly hungry after their mission. But I do have bread, some cheese, apples and a lemon tart, though I had held that one back for you…”

“That all sounds wonderful. Please.”

Molly pulls out a cloth napkin from below the counter, placing the assortment of food together with a delicate hand. She ties the napkin in a knot to keep the bundle protected and hands it over.

“Thank you.” He looks down at the hound sat by his heels. “Torgal, why don’t you go and sit with Lady Charon?”

Torgal’s tail thumps against the wooden floorboards happily – Charon often has a bone waiting for him behind her counter in the evening.

“Good boy.”

Clive heads back towards the alcove with deliberate footsteps, wishing to announce his arrival. The blanket has not moved, still in the place where he left it. From what he can see in the evening light, your trembling has appeared to ease up from Torgal’s visit at least.

“I am afraid we have run out of stew, but Molly’s put together a selection of other things for you – including the lemon tart I mentioned earlier.” Clive places the bundle down carefully upon the blanket, before moving the waterskin besides it.

He waits a moment or two to see if you might lift your head before continuing, but it remains fixed in place.

“I think you might feel more at ease if you eat something, my lady, even if it’s just a little. I will leave you be and bid you a good night, with a sincere hope that you emerge anon.”

He gets back to his feet again, swallowing back down a sigh and, reluctantly, heads back into the warmth of the Ale Hall.

--

Clive finds himself restless later that night, tossing and turning before settling to stare up at the ceiling of his chambers. His mind is whirling with thoughts of what he needs to accomplish tomorrow, the missives he has yet to reply to, the Mothercrystals that still reside – though an opportune moment was still to present itself – the next lot of Cursebreakers who would be undertaking the removal of their Brands…

..and you, the scared Bearer, hiding in an alcove off the main deck.

He sits up with a huff and looks towards the balcony.

Fresh air – despite how drafty his chambers already are - will help, he thinks.

He gets out of bed, pulling on his earlier discarded trousers and boots to go with his night shirt and heads over to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air.

The blighted lake waters are still and the moon casts a warm, white glow over the quiet deck. Clive takes a deep breath and then another, when something catches his eye down below - a lone figure heading across the boards on unsteady legs, towards the end of the dock.

You.

He turns on his heel and hurries out of his chambers, his footsteps echoing around the Ale Hall as he descends both sets of stairs two at a time. He pulls the lever back to call the lift back up and waits, impatiently, when he sees the blanket and bundle of food he’d left earlier, pushed aside in front of the alcove.

He grabs the bundle as the lift reaches the dock and hurries inside, slamming down the lever and descending below, praying that he’s not too late.

--

You were sure you hadn’t heard anyone for hours since the sun had dipped below the horizon and stars had slowly started to emerge in the cloudless sky. Cautiously, you’d pushed the blanket forward, only enough so that if someone was lying in wait for you to emerge they would pounce.

Nothing.

You wait another while before you inch it forward again, a pause, then a little more until the entire blanket is now out of the alcove. Your hands are shaking as you pop your head out, just slightly, but the deck appears empty. After waiting another few moments, you crawl over to the railings to peer below. The skiff you’d arrived on is docked up at the end of the pier – an escape route. Without much further thought, you pull yourself up on unsteady legs and walk into the goods lift, pulling down the lever to descend.

You find yourself at the end of the dock, frozen in fear. What were you thinking? You don’t know how to sail. You don’t know how to swim either, so that’s also out of the question. Even if you could, you surely wouldn’t have the strength to swim across an entire lake.

You flex stiff fingers experimentally. Maybe you could muster up enough aether to conjure some wind – would that be enough to sail the skiff? You wished you’d paid more attention on the journey over…

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Where would you even go? The brand inked on your cheek made it so you’d never have a normal life, you stand out immediately in any crowd. If an imperial soldier caught you on your own, you’d be thrown into the cells…

..or even worse.

Maybe… Maybe you could go back to your master? Your stomach swirls again with anxiety at the thought. There would be a punishment, surely, but if you came back that would count for something, wouldn’t it?

Your thoughts are interrupted by pounding footsteps, your heartbeat soon matching their pace as you turn to see your pursuer. It’s the broad-shouldered man from earlier – Clive – hurrying up the dock with a look you can’t identify on his face and a bundle of cloth in his hand.

You take a step back as he gets closer, hurriedly followed by another, then another. There’s an apology on your tongue but the world suddenly jerks when there is no longer anything to stand on. You’ve stepped too far, ran out of dock-

There is a gust of warm wind and an arm wraps around your waist, pressing you close into an even warmer chest. Underfoot, you feel the boards of the dock again - Clive has stopped you from falling into the depths. He guides you forward another half a dozen strides before dropping his arm once he’s sure you’re a safe distance away from the edge and then takes further steps back himself.

“I apologise for touching you without your consent, my lady, but I could not let you fall into the water. Are you all right?”

You don’t take in his words at all - your legs giving up as you drop down on the deck with a thump.

“I’m s-sorry.” Your words are soft, but Clive hears them in the stillness of the night. “Please – I’ll…” You swallow back a sob – crying never helped, would only make punishments worse. “I’m sorry. Please… don’t hurt me. I’ll obey. I will.”

“I will never hurt you, my lady, nor will I ever command your obedience. This is my vow.” Clive responds, equally as soft, as he kneels down to match your eye-level. “I just wish to see you safe and well.”

He sounds sincere, which is unsettling. You realise he doesn’t have his sword, nor the hound at his heels. He’s not even properly dressed - leather trousers and an unlaced white shirt, overall softening his appearance.

Clive takes advantage of your silence to press on.

“Will you join me in a midnight feast?” He places the bundle of cloth down before him, swiftly undoing the knot all whilst you stare, trying to guess the trick.

“I used to sneak into my younger brother’s chambers with things I’d swiped from the kitchen. He was often ill and prescribed a rather bland diet, so I hoped a midnight feast of more appetizing fare might cheer him up.”

He busies himself laying out the food on the patterned cloth, a little further away from him than could be comfortable having to stretch out so far. There’s a few bread rolls, apples, biscuits and something that smells tantalizingly sweet.

“This,” Clive points out a round pastry in the middle, some sort of glazed curd on the top, “is Molly’s fabled lemon tart. The best in Valisthea, I assure you. Please – help yourself.”

He leans back, propping himself up with his elbows, again trying to give you space, and forces his gaze to the sky. The moon illuminates the side of his face as you keep your eyes fixed on him, revealing a mark you hadn’t noticed earlier that day - an almost familiar one.

It’s torture having the food laid out in front of you, the second time that day. You don’t know if you feel sick from hunger or from nerves, but your resolve finally cracks.

You reach out with a shaking hand, waiting for Clive to strike.

He keeps focused on the skies above, his hands firmly planted behind him.

You pick up the roll.

Still, he does not move.

You take a tentative bite and chew, whilst Clive stares up at the stars.

Slowly, but surely, you finish the entire roll. Be grateful – your master’s voice rings around your head.

“T-thank you.”

Clive moves his gaze from the skies to yours, a warm smile on his face. “No, thank you, my lady. This is all I want for you – all we want for you – to be safe and well-fed.”

You dig your nails into your palms. “Why?”

“Because Bearers do not deserve to be treated how they are – we should be able to live and die on our own terms.”

“We?”

He nods, sitting up and turning his head to the side, pushing back his hair a little to reveal the scar on his cheek.

“I was Branded once. Tarja – she’s our healer – removed it, only so I could travel Storm safely and help others escape their fate. The Cursebreakers have all had their Brands removed as well for the same reason.”

“No, they said it can’t be removed – the ink contains poison.” You don’t know where this tone of defiance has emerged from, but there is no flash of anger across Clive’s brow.

“It is risky to remove, yes, but not impossible. And we will not ask you to undertake such a risk – that would be your choice.” He adds, quickly, worried you may take it the wrong way.

“You remember Molly, who brought you the stew?” You nod. “There are many others like her who have chosen to keep their Brand, but it does not dictate their lives in the Hideaway. And until you can live the life you deserve to, one where that mark on your cheek will not make it unsafe for you to do so, I sincerely hope you will find a home here.”

“A home?”

“Mm. Safe, fed, and never need to use aether again, my…” He pauses in realization. “My apologies - may I request the pleasure of your name?”

You shake your head, feeling foolish. “It’s silly, but I… I don’t remember it. Such a simple thing to have forgotten, but master didn’t use it.”

Of course the bastard didn’t - Clive feels a frown forming, but restrains himself. “I am sure it will come back to you with time.”

His eyes fall upon the pastry in the following silence, wishing to change the subject and he picks it up, placing it on the flat on his palm and offering it out to you. “Please – have some more to eat.”

Clive has a shy smile on his lips, a genuine and sincere look in his eye. It is the kindest look someone has given you in all the time you can remember and with that, your fingers brush across his open palm as you take the offered treat.

It is small – only two bites – but it is the most wonderful thing you have ever tasted. The pastry is crisp, thin and sweet, whilst the lemon curd is tart, the flavours dancing over your tongue.

It makes you want to cry at such a simple pleasure that has been denied to you for so very long.

The moment of euphoria is interrupted as a particularly cold wind gusts across the lake and causes you to shiver, unconsciously pulling your limbs closer to your body to try and preserve heat.

“Thank you for trusting me, my lady. I cannot imagine how frightening and worrying it must be – I truly admire your bravery. May I be as bold to request you trust me once more this night?”

You nod – the tiniest jerk of your head down – but it’s a nod all the same.

“Would you allow me to escort you to the infirmary? It has warm and comfortable beds where you can rest - properly.”

The question makes your stomach squirm with anxiety – the food sitting too heavy now in your stomach, but one look into Clive’s eyes almost settles it entirely once more.

“And in the morning, if you feel up to it,” he clarifies, “our healer would like to give you a check-up, but you do not have to make a decision on that right now.”

“A-all right.”

“Wonderful.” He keeps his tone measured, quickly wrapping up the food in the cloth and securing the top with a knot before he gets to his feet and steps back as you get to yours. He gestures forward a moment, quickly second-guessing his actions with a frown.

“Mayhaps you would be more comfortable following me?”

A small nod again.

You can’t be backstabbed if you’re facing his back, after all.

“Of course. Follow me, please, my lady.” He bows ever so slightly, before turning and heading back up and along the dock.

Clive’s heart is pounding as he walks away, worried that you may take his retreat as a chance to take the skiff and sail away or plunge yourself into the lake, but he dare not look over his shoulder in fear of frightening you.

Instead, he strains to hear any footsteps bar his own.

It is only when he reaches the goods lift that he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision that he releases a breath. He’s sure to stand in the furthest corner besides the lever, only taking one look over his shoulder to confirm you were safely within the confines of the lift before he pulls down on the mechanism.

He walks along the main deck, up the stairs to the mess, past the long tables and the hunt board before he pauses at the bottom of the next set of stairs. “It’s just up here and to the left.”

He opens the door to the infirmary with measured strength – aware the other Bearers will be resting within. The first two beds are occupied by faces you recognize – the two you’d been rescued with – and there is a man sat by a desk. Clive nods to him in acknowledgement and heads towards the other side of the room, sectioned off by a large bit of fabric. Both cots back there are empty, so he walks over to the one closest to the window and pulls the blanket down, then stepping back to the other side of the room and gesturing you forward.

“Here.”

You hesitate. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The stranger the other side of the curtain has unsettled you. It had been easy to forget about everyone else for a moment when it had just been Clive and you on the dock, but now you are inside… Who else would come when dawn broke?

Clive picks up on your hesitation, noting the way your eyes flit between the window and beyond the curtain, annoyed with himself he did not warn you of Rodiguez being on duty that night.

“If it would be all right with you, my lady, I would like to stay in order to make introductions in the morning with Tarja. But I will only do so if you are comfortable with me – I will set up a chair over there.” He points back the way you came, to the gap between the fabric and the wall.

“P-please.”

“Of course.” He nods, picking up a chair immediately from the side and moving it to where he had said. It is only then that you sit cautiously on the edge of the bed, slowly lifting your legs up and tugging the blanket up to your chin.

Clive settles himself on the chair – he has slept in far worse places, after all – and it is not long at all until sleep claims you.

--

Months pass. At first, your circle remains small – Clive and Molly at first, followed by Jill before you slowly begin to open up to those among the Hideaway. You will never forget the smile on Clive’s face when he introduced you to Torgal properly – the hound immediately rolling on his back, titling his head at you inquisitively as his master explained he wished for you to rub his fluffy belly.

You are still easily startled by loud noises, unexpected movement or when Gav swears out of excitement, never the loudest in conversation, but everyone is so very welcoming.

There is plenty to do, but there is no expectation of you to contribute unless you want to, especially as some among the ranks are too stiff from the curse. Jill and Hortense teach you how to sew, you spend a few days in the Backyard learning about the plants, Charon teaches you how to take a stock inventory, Gav tries to teach you how to drink a pint in record speed and, of course, Molly teaches you how to bake.

You are always first to greet new Bearers with a soft word and kind smile, telling them how scared you were, how you hid in the alcove on the deck…

Clive is often busy whilst in or out the Hideaway, but he always makes time for you, seeking out your company immediately after he has given Otto the latest, wanting to know what you’ve been up to before he’ll even speak of himself. He even picks up little trinkets that he thinks will make you smile – lined up on your windowsill in your bunk.

You knock gently on Clive’s chambers – his call for you to enter soon following. You hold the basket behind your back, a piece of cloth tucked over delicately over the contents within as you slide open the door. He is sat behind the writing desk, looking over a pile of missives, dressed in his usual leathers.

He raises his head and offers you the warmest smile, getting to his feet immediately in polite greeting. Seeing you always seemed to brighten his day – there was something about your smile that revitalized his spirits, a reminder of how far you’d come since that first day.

“My lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work.” You say, softly, sliding the door closed behind you.

“You are never an interruption. Please, sit.” He gestures towards the bench opposite his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Before I sit, I have some gifts.”           

“Gifts?”

“Mm. For you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have.”

You place the basket gently down on his desk, ignoring his comment. He pulls back the cloth to reveal a pile of six lemon tarts nestled within.

“Did you make these?”

“I did.” You nod, proudly. “Molly supervised, so they should be edible, at least.”

“They’ll be more than edible, I assure you.” He picks one up and bites into it, humming happily as he chews, the pastry melting on his tongue. “They are exquisite – truly.”

“Really?”

He feigns a pout at your question. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You shake your head with a shy smile.

“Then I would hardly start now.” He takes hold of you hand for a moment and squeezes. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip before continuing. “There’s… something else.”

“I am hardly deserving of this gift, my lady, let alone more-”

You interrupt him with a name – your name.

His eyes widen for a moment before he murmurs it back to you – sounding all the more wonderful on his tongue - and you nod, excitedly. You’d been reluctant to choose a new name, despite some suggestions. The inhabitants of the Hideaway had instead picked up on Clive’s term of address instead.

“I remembered, like you said.” You wring your fingers together. “Well, in a way. Tomes was reading a story to the children and there it was, after all this time.”

“It is a beautiful name – I am honoured to learn it.” He takes your hand with a bow, pressing a kiss against your knuckles and saying it once again.

When he releases your hand, you press a quick kiss against his stubbled, scarred cheek. “Thank you.”

Clive’s cheeks redden at your kiss, seemingly speechless for a moment. He smiles, almost bashfully, as he looks down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“May I give you something in return?”

“Clive,” you look down as you protest, feeling your own face warm under his gaze, “you’ve already given me plenty. You-” He inadvertently cuts you off as he tilts your chin up with two gentle fingers, determined to meet your gaze.

“You do not understand, my darling. I would love to give you so much more, if only you’d permit me.”

“Oh…”

Clive moves his hand to caress your Branded cheek with calloused fingers – worn from his time of handling his blade – but his touch has never felt so soft.

“May I?”

You nod.

Clive presses a kiss to your lips - gentle, chaste and far sweeter than any lemon tart.

--

Comments and reblogs make my whole day x

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[yeonzzzn]

🌀dark waters: park jay

a vampires bleeding series: two / seven

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 6k

synopsis: after the events following jungwon and dorian, the seven boys fight to protect jungwon's mate and find dorian and stop his games. jay witnesses your near-death experience by the hands of dorian and having no choice but to pull you into protection.

genre: strangers to lovers, vampire!jay, doctor!jay, human!reader, some spice, angst

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, y/n almost drowning, some spice, cute but hella stubborn jay ♡

☾ jungwon(1) | jay(2) | jake(3) | sunghoon(4) | sunoo(5) | niki(6) | heeseung(7) ☽

jay: got this weeks shipment. you? heeseung: ours just came as well. how much extra? jay: about two boxes worth.  heeseung: we have one. has jungwon checked in yet? jay: no. fixing to give him a call.  heeseung: 👍🏼

Jay scoffed, “I hate when he replies back in just emojis.” 

Jay tossed his phone onto his desk, running a hand through his silver hair. The two boxes of blood bags sat at his feet. 

He released a sign, hanging his head low. 

Jay quickly picked up the boxes, and was out the window of his office and to his car, tossing the boxes in the back and was back in the office before a second even passed. 

A nurse walked into the room right when Jay was closing the window.

“Doctor Park?” her soft voice spoke as she tapped her knuckle to the door.

“Yes?” Jay said, giving her a soft smile. 

“Your next appointment is here, they are in room 1130.” 

Jay nodded, “I will be right there, I have to call my brother for a second.” 

The nurse smiled with a giggle, “Which one?” 

“The one causing me the most problems right now.” 

She giggles again, “That’s what happens when they start dating.” 

Jay nodded in agreement, “You have no idea.” 

Except it wasn’t even the fact Jungwon was dating. He found his mate. One that is human and is being targeted by another vampire. Which made Jay stress more than normal. 

 “I’ll be there in a second,” Jay confirmed again with the nurse before dialing Jungwon’s number. 

But no answer. 

Jay then calls Jungwon’s mate. 

“Hello?” she answers right away.

“Where is your mate?” Jay softly snapped, trying to not drop his frustration on her. 

“Geez, Wonnie! Jay is upset with you!” 

Jungwon mumbled something in the background before coming onto the line, “Yes, Hyung?”

“What is the point of having a phone if you’re not going to answer it damnit!” Jay clenched his jaw, “If neither of you would have answered.”

“Hyung,” Jungwon breathed out, “We are fine. I am sorry I didn’t check in.” 

Jay dropped his head into his hand, took a deep breath, and out, “How is everything going?” 

“Niki just left, today has also been normal. Nothing out of the blue.” 

“Okay, Heeseung and I will be there later to drop off bags.”

“Sounds good.”

“And Jungwon?” 

Jungwon sat and waited for Jay. 

“No funny business.” 

“No promises.” and the line cut. 

Jay smirked, standing up and grabbing his doctor's coat. 

—

You dropped your head to the desk. This lecture was draining you. Class has also been in session for thirty minutes and you already wanted to throw yourself in front of a moving bus. 

You tilted your head to look out the window. The sky was getting darker, was there a chance of rain today?

Your cell phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling it out you see you’ve received some texts from a guy you’ve been talking to through an app. 

sharpdart32: when can I finally meet you? :(

sharpdart32: facetime calling you isn’t enough. 

A smile formed on your face. 

fate622: matt, I’m in class rn…how about afterwards?

sharpdart32: sounds perfect. there is an amazing place with a beautiful view of a lake. you’ll love it. 

fate622: it looks like it’ll rain though.

sharpdart32: don’t worry! everything will be fine. trust me. 

fate622: I trust you. 

sharpdart32: :) 

sharpdart32: see you soon. 

You waited by the entrance to the park, double-checking the address Matt sent you, and sure enough, it’s the right place. 

The sky was getting darker and the air smelt of rain. You wrap your jacket tighter around your body. Thankful to yourself for choosing your cargo pants to help keep your legs warm.

You checked the time, Matt was running late. 

Thinking you got stood up, you decided it was time to leave. You walked back to your car, opening the door. 

“I just got here, leaving already?” 

The familiar voice sent happiness. You whipped around, seeing Matt’s beautiful smile. 

“I thought you stood me up!” you laughed, closing your car door and making your way towards him. 

He pulled you into a tight hug, “Gosh, it’s finally nice to see you in person.”

You smiled into his shoulder, “Yes it really is.” 

Matt took a deep breath in, “You smell so…so good.” 

Your face flushed, you spent so long in the college’s bathroom to make yourself presentable and it seemed to have paid off. 

“Thank you, I'm glad I decided on this perfume.” 

Matt pulled away, his hands resting on your shoulders, “Well it smells fantastic. Shall we?” 

You nodded, taking his hand and following him into the park. 

“Where is this view at, Matt?” you asked, excited to see how breathtaking this lake has to be. 

“It’s not too far, you’ll see!” 

As you both continue your hike through the park, Matt talks about his day and asks how school is going for you. It helped pass the time until the breeze from the lake caught your attention. 

“Oh! Are we here?!” 

Matt nodded, “Of course!” 

You released his hand from yours, rushing over to see the lake, but quickly stopped when you noticed the cliff. 

“You didn’t say anything about a cliff.” 

“Scared of heights?” Matt teased. 

You scrunch your nose at him, “Absolutely not! Just a detail I expected you to have told me is all.” 

You carefully walk closer to the edge, looking at how far of a drop it is. Deciding to take a few steps back was best. 

“You like the view, Y/N?” Matt whispered in your ear as he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

You leaned into him, nodding, “I do, it really is beautiful like you said.” 

Matt breathed you in again, “Y/N, you smell so good.” 

“You told me that already,” you turned to look at him. 

Your heart stopped at the change of his facial expression, the color of his eyes such a dark crimson. 

“Matt…? Your eyes…” 

He chuckled, “What's wrong with them? Hmm?” He smiled as he continued his chuckle, fangs now appearing. 

You tried to run from him, but his grip was all too tight. 

“What’s wrong Y/N? You were having so much fun just a second ago.” 

You continued trying to escape, but he was way too strong. 

“Stop fighting me, Y/N. I’m starving, and your blood is what I’m craving.” 

Matt took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. 

“What are you…” You whispered. 

“You already know the answer, sweet thing. And you fell right into my trap.”

He was going to kill you. There was no denying it. 

Matt tilted your head and dug his fangs into your skin. 

You felt the blood leaving your body. Your skin is growing cold and pale. 

Your eyelids become heavy as the dizziness sets in. Try to focus as much as you can to stay conscious. 

The rain finally came down. Your feet losing their traction on the ground from the rain, Matt keeping his grip on you as you lost feeling in your legs. 

He finally released his fangs, licking his lips. Whatever blood you had left in your body pooled out of your neck and down your clothes.

You barely were able to look at him and the shit-eating grin he had. 

“It was fun, Y/N.”

“They’ll find you, my family. Friends. The police. They’ll find you.”

He threw his head back in laughter and took a deep breath, “No they won’t. And they won’t find you either.” 

He dropped you over the edge, gravity taking you down until the cold water claimed you. 

—

Heeseung and Jay one by one placed the blood bags into the fridge at the safe house. 

“I think we have enough to last years.” Jake’s Australian accent chipped in, “Why are you two planting so much?” 

Jay sighed, “Because we don’t know how long we have to hide the love birds here for.” 

“It’s been two months,” Sunoo rolled his eyes, “We haven’t found any traces of Dorian or any hints that he’s formed a pack.” 

“Yeah, but he also knows we are after him!” Sunghoon snapped, “He’s going to be on his toes.” 

Heeseung hung his head down, “Can we not fight in front of __.”

Everyone glances over at Jungwon and his mate, and then quickly looks back at each other. 

“They are too in Lalaland to even notice.” Niki jokes. 

Jay looked back over at his younger brother, seeing the smile on his face as he pushed her hair behind her ears. 

“We have to protect them.” Jay said, looking between the other five, “Jungwon might have his strength back, but if Dorian ever showed up for her, Jungwon would get desperate to protect her and he would need us.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement. 

“Who is next on watch?” Heeseung asked, “Niki just finished, right?” 

Niki nodded. 

Jay raised his hand, “My duty turn, I’ll go now.” 

Jay took one last look at Jungwon, the younger giving him a glance back, “Behave.” 

Jungwon raised his eyebrow, “Okay, mom.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Jay was out the door, running to the edge of the perimeter. A good couple hours worth of distance between himself and the safe house. 

The end of the perimeter was on the edge of a cliff with a beautiful view of a lake. 

Jay knelt down, taking in the fall lake breeze and the smell of the lake. 

This used to be one of his favorite places anytime the seven of them would be at the safe house. It always helped calm his nerves. 

Jay looked up at the dark sky, “It’s about to rain soon.” 

And as if on command, rain fell down. 

Jay clenched his jaw, “Fuck…should have brou-“ 

The smell of blood filled his nostrils, shooting Jay back up to his feet, looking in every direction the smell could be coming from. 

His heart raced against his chest. Jay smells blood all the time at the clinic, but to smell it out here when it’s not an animal? Something was wrong. 

Laughter echoed across the lake. Jay pinpointed where it was coming from, narrowing his vision to see a man and woman standing on the edge. 

Blood flowed from her neck.

“Vampire..” Jay whispered, looking closer at the man, “Dorian!!” 

Dorian took the girl and dropped her over the edge. 

“Dorian!!!” Jay yelled louder.

Dorian’s eyes locked with Jay’s, a smile played wide on Dorian’s face, but faded and quickly ran. 

Jay knew why too, the others sensed Jay’s distress, and Dorian felt it too. 

Jay started to run after him but stopped as your body hit the water. 

You were still alive, Jay could feel it. You tried with whatever strength you had to keep from sinking, but eventually, you gave out, the water filling your lungs. 

Heeseung ran past Jay, “Come on! He’s getting away!” 

Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki also ran past. 

“Hyung?” 

Jay whipped around, seeing Jungwon with __ standing behind him, pressed to his back. 

“Damnit Jungwon get her out of here!” Jay snapped, pointing back towards the safe house. 

Jungwon tightened his grip on __, looking down at the lake, “That woman is drowning!” 

Jay groaned, “Won I know!” Jay took steps back, “Get her out of here! Now!” Jay then turned and ran off the cliff. 

The cold water sent chills down him as he pushed himself through to get to you. Your faint heartbeat playing in his ears. 

The cool air and rain hit your face as you came to. 

“Hey!” a male voice said, “Hey, I need you to tell me how many fingers I am holding up?” 

“…a peace sign?” 

Jay rolled his eyes, “Close enough. Can you sit up?” 

You nodded, slowly trying to move your body. 

“Woah woah, easy.” Jay wrapped his arms around you, helping you sit up. Coughing up the remaining water in your lungs. 

The rain finally came to a stop, but the pain in your body continued. 

You groaned as you touched your hand to your neck. 

“Hey, don’t touch that.” He said quickly, taking your hand away from your neck, “We need to get you to a hospital so it doesn’t get infected.” 

You recognized the warmth of his skin. It felt the exact same as Matt’s. 

You pushed the man away from you, scooting back away from him. 

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you, I saved you from drowning.”

You studied him as his chocolate eyes studied you. His silver hair was slicked back and his clothes tightly fit him from the rain. You could lie, it had your heart racing. This man was beautiful. 

“The last vampire that told me that ended up draining me of my blood and pushing me off the fucking cliff! You snapped. 

Jay’s hard eyes soften, “You know, you’re the first person to recognize the monster that I am so quickly.” He glances away from you. 

Your heartbeat slowed, the way he said those words…They were filled with hurt. 

“Anyways,” He said looking back at you, “This is the thanks I get for saving your life? It took almost ten minutes of CPR to save you.”

Your fingers went to your lips, face flushing, “What if I had a DNR!!” you snapped, giving him the same attitude back. 

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t have a DNR. I’m not stupid. Plus I am a doctor, I know what I’m doing.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “A vampire…doctor?” 

He nodded, “Well yeah, we have to make money too.” 

Your body relaxed, “You said I needed to go to a hospital?” 

He nodded again. 

You agreed to go, “I swear if I put my trust in one more vampire and you break it…”

He chuckled, “I’m not like the one that hurt you.” 

The drive to the hospital was long and awkward but finally arrived. 

You followed him around the building, “This is a clinic?” 

He nodded, “Of course.” 

“No hospital?” 

You followed him to a window and watched as he opened it. 

“We are breaking into a clinic?!” 

He stared back at you, “Not breaking in.” He fully climbed through the window, helping you inside after. 

“Sit on the bed, I have to grab some supplies.” 

You nodded, doing as you were told. 

You looked around the room. It was pretty bland. Had a small tv in the corner of the wall with a table underneath and some flowers with a tag that read, “To: Doctor Park, thank you for everything you do! -♡ Nurse Kay.” 

You giggled at the note, someone had a small crush on the vampire doctor. 

You continued looking around the room, setting your eyes on the desk. 

Pictures of him with six other boys filled with frames around the desk, along with a photo of himself and what looks like his parents. The photo was very old and looks like it has been reprinted multiple times. 

Your heart sank, just how long has he been alive? 

Jay came back into the room, with bandages, medicine, ointments, a blood bag, and an IV pole. 

“You don’t know what blood time I am?” you said. 

“I know your blood type based on its smell.” He said, setting everyone down on the bed beside you. 

That made sense, he is a vampire after all. 

“I am going to do a blood transfusion,” he set the blood bag onto the rack, hooking up the tubes to it, “Your body is still trying to recover from the blood loss, so we are just going to go ahead and do the transfusion.” 

He took your arm and turned it over, wiping the alcohol pad over your skin, “Are you ready for the needle?” 

You looked away and nodded. 

You felt the prick of the needle and bandages being wrapped around your arm, your body taking in the blood back into your body. 

“Now time for the ointment.” he knelt down in front of you, dabbing a small amount of the cream to his finger and applying it to your neck wounds. 

“Dorian really dug his fangs deep.” 

“Dorian? His name is Matt?” 

Jay shook his head, “He is smart, that’s for sure. Known the man for so long, it doesn't surprise me that he did a name change.” 

“You know him?” panic started to set in. 

“Well, used to. It’s a long story. Don’t associate with him anymore.” 

You could tell he didn’t want to talk about Dorian anymore. Glancing back at the flowers, you had another idea. 

“Nurse Kay seems to have a crush on you, Doctor Park.” 

He softly smiled, “She’s been trying to jump my bones since I’ve been here, and please just call me Jay.” 

Jay grabbed the bandage and slowly wrapped it around your neck, “I’m Y/N. And thank you, Jay.”

Jay’s eyes meet yours. The thread tangled into a knot, tying together perfectly just from one look. 

You felt it too, this pull to him. Something clicking together. Your heart raced being inches away from him. 

Jay looked away from you, “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

He stood up, gathering the leftover items and setting them into a cabinet. 

Jay’s softness went back into his tough core. You wondered what made him so tough?

Jay sat down at his desk, letting out a deep sigh. 

“Once your bag is finished I’ll take you ho-“

Before Jay could finish, the door opened, and five men followed all of them talking at once. 

“Hey hey! Quiet!” Jay snapped, “This is a clinic for fucksakes.” He covered his face with his hands. 

“I told them that, but…” Heeseung mumbled. 

Jay stood up, facing the four of them. 

“Jungwon?” 

“Back at the safe house,” Heeseung said. 

“Good, but we need to get them out of there.” Jay sighed. 

Niki nodded, “After noticing you, Hyung, he has an idea where the house is. He’ll be coming for __.”

Jake agreed, “We need another safe place.” 

Sunghoon gave suggestions and the others agreed or disagreed. 

Jay glances over at you, giving you an “Are you okay?” look. 

You nodded back at him.

Heeseung glanced between Jay and you, “Whose this?” 

“This is Y/N,” Jay scratched the back of his head, “Y/N, this is Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki.” 

You slowly waved a hand at them. These were the boys from the pictures, only one is missing and you assumed it was Jungwon, the one they all mentioned earlier. 

“Why is she here?” Sunoo asked.

“I didn’t realize someone else was in here either…” Sunghoon admitted. 

“She was Dorian’s meal.” Jay shrugged. 

You rolled your eyes, “You don’t have to put it like that you jerk.” 

Jay rolled his eyes back, “Could have left you to die.” 

“Might as well have, asshole.” 

Jay hung his head low and softly groaned. 

Heeseung smiled between the two of you, but the smile faded just as fast, “Does Dorian know she’s alive?” 

“I don’t know.” Jay sighed, sitting back in his chair, “I jumped in to save her after he took off.” 

“Well,” Jake started, “He left town, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have eyes and ears around. He has Y/N’s scent, he’ll know she’s alive the minute he goes back to the area.” 

“Jay,” Heeseung called for him. Jay looks up at his only hyung, “We have to protect her too now.” 

Jay looks at you and nods, “Yes we do.” 

You look at the two of them confused, “Is there another person you’re protecting from Dorian?” 

They all nodded, “Jungwon’s mate.” Niki sang. 

“Mate?” You’re even more confused. 

Heeseung continues staring between Jay and yourself, “You felt it, didn’t you?” 

Jay immediately shakes his head, “No. Absolutely not.” 

“Jongseong…” Heeseung said using Jay’s real name. 

“No! Drop it.” Jay snapped, “We need to get Jungwon and __ to a new safe place and Y/N somewhere too.” 

“I want to be wherever Jay goes.” You spoke up, causing all six of them to look at you. 

Heeseung smirked at Jay, causing Jay to shove his older. 

“I have an idea where to take Jungwon and __,” Jake said, “But I’ll need help to lose our scents at the safe house and to transport the bags.” 

The boys cooked up a plan and were all in agreement. 

“What about me?” You asked. 

“You’ll stay with me…”Jay mumbled, “At my apartment.”

“Will it be safe?” 

“Trust me,” Sunoo sassed, “Out of all of us, he has the most security at his apartment.” 

You giggled at the embarrassment on Jay’s face. You could tell he was having a hard time holding onto his tough shell. 

A knock sounded on the door, and a female walked in, “Oh hello boys! Long time no see! And hello Doctor Lee, nice to see you again.” 

You immediately knew it was Nurse Kay by how she glanced over at Jay, and then at you. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a patient…” 

Jay shook his head, “It was last minute.” 

She nodded, giving you one final glance, “I don’t  think your brothers should be in this room with a patient.”

You rolled your eyes, could her jealousy be any more obvious?

“We were just finishing up,” Jay said, walking to you. Releasing IV from your arm. “Thank you, Nurse.” 

She closed the door, leaving the room silent. 

After one more decision, you all left the clinic. Jay at your side and the other five surrounding the both of you. 

“This is embarrassing.” Jay scoffed. 

You smiled, “I have my own personal bodyguards, this is fun!” 

Jay couldn’t help but smile after you looked away. His heart pulling to you, and him trying to shove it down. Trying to cut the knot. 

The drive to Jay’s apartment was short. You also expected a vampire who is god knows how old with however much money, he would be living in a bigger apartment space. 

You stood in the doorway, looking into the studio apartment. 

“What’s wrong? Go inside!” Jay gently pushed you forward. 

“Just expected like a massive luxurious apartment.” 

Jay raised a brow, “I don’t have that kind of money.” 

You glared at him, “There’s no way you don’t.” 

Jay rolled his eyes, “I like this small space.” 

You looked around as you walked in, seeing his bed in the corner, a couch and TV in the other. A small dining table with the kitchen on the other side and a hole in the wall for the bathroom. 

Jay handed you a pair of his clothes, “I’ll wash the ones you’re wearing now, the shower is ready, please freshen up.” 

You take the clothes, “What about you?” 

“I’ll shower after you.” 

You took your time in the shower, trying to process everything that happened today and what it means going forward. 

Will you have to run for the rest of your life? Always hiding? Will Jay be by your side? 

So many more questions filtered through your brain. It hurt trying to wrap everything around it. 

Once out of the shower, you pulled on the basketball shorts and shirt he gave you to wear. They were both oversized, but comfortable. They even smelled like him. 

You stood in the mirror and ran your fingers through your hair, only to stop and notice the puncture holes in your neck. You leaned forward to get a better look, noticing how bruised your skin was around the scabs. 

Tears slowly fell down your face. You survived an attack. These wounds will turn into scars and show proof of how you survived. But they will also hold all the trauma. 

You decided to wrap more bandages around wounds, hiding it was what you wanted for the moment. 

You walked out of the bathroom, seeing Jay fast asleep on the couch, his bed unmade for you. 

The sun shining through the window was enough to wake you up. 

The smell of pancakes and bacon filled the small studio apartment. 

You crawled out of bed, only to see you were alone. 

Your bare feet hit the floor as you walked over to the kitchen, a plate of food and a note waiting for you. 

Y/N,  I got called into the clinic. There was an emergency surgery that needed my attention. I made this breakfast for you, so please eat it. Niki and Sunoo will be taking turns checking in on you while I am gone. So if you try to leave, they will stop you. There’s a number on the fridge for a pizza place down the street you can use for lunch. I should be home by dinner. Make yourself at home. Oh, there is also a fresh toothbrush and other toiletries in the bathroom for you as well. Remember do NOT leave…I mean it.  -Jay

You rolled your eyes at the last part and dug into the food. 

After your meal, you freshen up in the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth. 

Since you’d be stuck here all day, you explored more of the apartment. Looking at what other food he could possibly have and then remembering he was a vampire when you opened the fridge to only find blood bags. 

You watched some TV, only to fall asleep an hour later. A knock on the door waking you from your nap. 

You looked through the peephole to see Sunoo standing outside. 

You opened the door and confirmed you were okay. Sunoo patted your head and went on his way. 

You finally decided to order pizza, and to your surprise, it was free all because the owner personally knows Jay. Which hey, free pizza is always a win. 

A couple of hours later Niki stopped by, confirming you were still in fact okay, stole one of Jay’s blood bags, talked to you about the one time Jay was scared of a “ghost” and forced Niki to shower with him, and then went on his own way. 

For the rest of the time you flipped through TV channels or read one of the many anatomy books Jay had. 

You found yourself back in the bathroom staring at the two small holes on your neck, a massive sigh leaving your mouth. 

The front door opens followed by, “I’m back.” 

You walked from the bathroom, “It’s almost 11 p.m., that’s so way past dinner time.” 

Jay glared at you as he took off his coat, “Don’t start with me.” 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “I am assuming the surgery took longer than expected?” 

Jay nodded, “It was a lot worse than we thought it was.” 

Jay dropped his coat on the kitchen table and kicked off his shoes.

You could see how tired he was. How stressed he must be trying to deal with a normal human life on top of hiding who he really is and also trying to keep you safe. 

Your face softened, the knot pulling you to him. You stood beside him, taking his hand into yours, “I am sorry it was a rough day.” 

Jay tried to calm his heart rate, not wanting to show the effect you had on him. Shoving away the knot that was pulling him to you. 

“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” he pulled you closer to him, wrapping you in a hug, “I’m going to shower, don’t stay awake for me.” 

Before you could protest, Jay gently kissed the top of your head, and then walked away, closing the bathroom room behind him. 

Jay gripped the sink, face flushed, “What did I just do???” he whispered. 

The knot is just growing tighter. 

After his shower, Jay threw on his favorite black t-shirt and shorts, finally happy to rest. 

Only to see you still awake, sitting on the couch. 

“I told you to not wait up for me!” Jay snapped, “It’s 12 a.m.!”

You rolled your eyes, “Just sit down grumpy ass.” 

Jay threw himself onto the couch, resting his legs at your side. 

“You want to share the couch?” You sassed. 

Jay scoffed, “My couch, I bought it. Stop being sassy.” 

You sighed, knowing you weren’t getting anywhere with it. 

“Tell me more about Dorian, and how he’s related to Jungwon and his…girlfriend?” 

Jay took a deep breath in, “Dorian himself is a longer story,” he started, “And his girlfriend is actually his mate.” 

You turned to face him, “That’s the second time I have heard her being called mate.” 

Jay continued and ignored your comment, “Jungwon and his mate ran into Dorian. Dorian is a solo hunter, versus us who are in a pack. Dorian hunts not to just feed but to kill. He could smell __ blood from miles away and he wanted her. Jungwon fought to keep Dorian away, but the problem was Jungwon tested his limits and didn’t drink any blood for months, he was weaker than normal.”

You nodded, taking in the information. 

Jay continued, “When you’re in a pack, you feel everything the others feel,” Jay placed his hand over his heart, “Their happiness, sadness and when they are hurt. It’s the knot of fate that ties us all together. So when we sensed Jungwon was in danger, we rushed to him. Dorian ran off knowing he couldn’t take all seven of us. He made it clear he was coming for Jungwon’s mate. And Dorian won’t stop until he has her.” 

“And since she is Jungwon’s mate, she is now a part of the pack?” 

Jay nodded, “Vampires mate for life. Once one finds their mate, they get tied into the same fate knot. Jungwon and her knot are obviously different from the one the pack shares as a whole, but it’s still there.” 

“How do you guys find your mates? Is Jungwon the only one?” 

Jay nodded, “The rest of us don’t have one. And finding mates isn't that easy. It’s a feeling both yourself and your mate will feel. That knot tangled together, making everything clear. In that moment you see only them, and that maybe this monstrous life is actually worth living.” 

You tilted your head, pulling your knees to your chest, “That is the second time you’ve called yourself a monster.” 

Jay looked into your eyes, “What else am I? There’s a reason I followed in Heeseung’s footsteps and became a doctor. To put some good back into the world at all the bad I have done.” 

“Jay…”

“We’ve done some terrible things, Y/N. There’s a reason we took to drinking blood bags and not directly from humans.” 

You placed your hand on his knee, waiting for him to continue. 

“We weren’t born vampires, but the ones who turned us were very terrible people. We did terrible things to others in our first hundred years, but we hated it. Every moment of it. Life got better once we made the change. Once we each found other passions and drank from blood bags, life did get better. Everyone else has forgiven themselves for the past but…” 

“But you never did?” 

Jay nodded. 

“Jay, look at me.” 

And he did. He stared deeply back into your doe eyes. His heart strings aching for you, the knot pulling tighter and him shoving it down. 

You crawled over to him, wanting nothing more than to kiss him. To show him how worthy he is. How he deserves so much more than what he gives himself. The knot you felt, praying he feels it too. 

Jay places his hands on your shoulders, stopping you from moving closer. 

“Y/N, please don’t, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you. I’m trying so hard to cut this knot from you.” 

Tears fill your eyes, your soulmate is sitting in front of you as he tries to push you away. You could feel his hurt. Feel the pain he’s feeling as he tries to cut the knot that’s already been tied. You’re his mate, and he’s doing everything to stop it. 

But you’ve had enough, “Stop denying yourself the possibility of love just because you see yourself as a monster!” Jay’s grip on your shoulders loosened, narrowing his eyes at you, “I don’t see you as a monster, Jongseong! From the moment we met I never once saw you as a monster. I was scared, yes, but never have I ever felt so safe being by your side.”

Jay took a deep breath in, studying your face. 

“I don’t know much about how mates work for vampires, but I felt that knot you talked about. The moment we looked into each other's eyes at the clinic, I felt that knot. My whole life became yours.” 

Jay folded at your words, releasing his hands from your shoulders, one reaching for your neck, and the other on your hip. 

Jay accepted his fate, accepted the knot, and accepted you. 

His lips connected to yours, breathing you in as if he was running out of oxygen. 

His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you closer to him. 

Jay pulled himself up on the couch, pulling you into his lap, deepening the kiss more. 

You ran your hands in his dyed hair, causing Jay to send soft moans against your lips. His shorts hardening underneath you. 

Jay rests his hands on your lower back, slowly pushing you down onto him with every moment you make. 

The sensation you felt being completely connected to him sent butterflies to your stomach. 

Every inch of pleasure Jay was feeling was amplified because of your bond. Every movement Jay made that turned you on, turned him on more. 

It made you dizzy at his very touch. If making out with him felt like this, you could only imagine how sex would feel with him. 

Jay released his lips from yours, resting his forehead against yours. 

You both took deep breaths in, smiling and laughing. 

“There’s that smile I love,” You whispered, “Smiling looks better on you than being Mr. Grumpy Pants.” 

Jay chuckled, “You really irritate the fuck out of me.” 

“And you’re stuck with me for life, right? Mates?” 

Jay pulled your hair behind your ears, finally truly feeling every ounce of love Jungwon felt for his mate, towards you. 

“Yes, beautiful,” Jay said, taking your face between his hands, “You're stuck with me just as much as I am stuck with you.” 

He planted one last kiss on your lips, before tossing you off him. 

“You really are an asshole.” You stuck your tongue out at him. 

Jay rolled his eyes, “Go to bed, we have a big day tomor-“ 

You sat up on the couch, feeling the worry that he was feeling. 

“Jay? Jongseong? What’s wrong?” 

He pulls you towards him and behind him, away from the window.

The glass shatters, and a woman with dark red hair, steps through. 

“Oh isn’t this a sight to see, Dorian will be excited to know his lovely friends rescued his lunch.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I am so sick of hearing that.” 

Jay clenched his jaw, his grip on you becoming even tighter. 

“Didn’t think you were much for being in a pack, Lilly.” Jay hissed. 

“Oh, we aren’t in a pack. Let's just say we are in an agreement.”

“He still wants __ doesn’t he?” Jay asked, already knowing the answer. 

“He doesn’t just want Jungwon’s mate,” she sang, looking around Jay and directly at you, “He wants your mate as well.” 

Your heart sank, the man responsible for almost killing you knows you’re still alive. You gripped onto the back of Jay’s shirt, pulling yourself closer. 

“Why does he want Y/N and __?! There’s plenty of other people out there!” 

“Now now, Jongseong, that’s not something a doctor should say.” 

Lilly walked closer, studying the two of you. 

“I’m not here to hurt you or take your mate from you, I just had to come to confirm Dorian’s suspensions.”

“What is he planning?”

Lilly laughed, “I don’t have the time nor patience to tell you, plus your pack just arrived, don’t want to be torn to pieces.” 

With a wave, Lilly jumped out the window. 

Jay pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms tighter around you. Your whole body shakes with fear. 

“Don’t be scared baby, I have you.” Jay ran his hand through your long hair, “And I won’t let them touch you.”

[ancientcharm]

NERO. The end of the Julio-Claudian dynasty (Last Part)

January of 63, 1 year and a half before the terrible fire in Rome.

According to Tacitus:

"Nero welcomed with something more than mortal joy the birth of a daughter by Poppaea, Claudia whom he called Augusta, the same title having also been given to Poppaea."

After listing all the religious celebrations, spectacles, and distinctions that were made in the baby's honor, Tacitus says that the baby died four months later and adds "The emperor was as excessive in his grief as he had been in his joy."

Historian writes about the acts carried out by Nero after the fire. Measures to prevent fires and changes in the design of the city. According to Tacitus: "These changes which were liked for their utility, also added beauty to the new city."

And about of Domus Aurea:

He built a mansion in which the jewels and gold were not so marvellous as the fields and lakes, with woods on one side to resemble a wilderness, and, on the other, open spaces and extensive views. -Tacitus

Domus Aurea- Digital reconstruction- Work by J.R CASALS -Digital Heritage

The conspiracy of the year 65

Tacitus writes in detail about a conspiracy to assassinate Nero and replace him with Senator Caius Piso; "planned by senators, knights, soldiers and even women; out of hatred of Nero as well as a liking for Caius Piso".

Historian also accounts that they planned assassinated Nero in the Villa that Piso had in Baiae "whither the emperor, charmed by its loveliness, often went, and where, unguarded he would enjoy the bath and the banquet. But Piso refused to stain with an emperor's blood the sanctity of the home and the deities who presided over it."

They decided to carry out their plan in April, on a special day of games at the Circus, held in honor of Ceres.

The plan was that Scaevinus, approaching Nero as if to ask him something, would stab him once, others would cover the wound with bandages to hide the blood and quickly carry him out of the circus; Another would lie to the audience by saying that the emperor was ill. They would then announce his "natural death" days later.

The day before the treacherous attempt, after a long conversation with Natalis, Scaevinus returned home and took from its sheath a dagger and complaining that it was blunted from long disuse, he ordered it to be sharpened on a stone to a sharp, shiny point; This task he assigned to his freedman Milicus. -Tacitus

Milicus went to the Servilian gardens, and, finding the doors shut against him, said that he was the bearer of important and alarming news. Upon this he was conducted by the gatekeepers to one of Nero's freedmen, Epaphroditus, and by him to Nero, whom he informed of the urgent danger; And he showed the dagger. -Tacitus

The investigation lasted weeks.

Tacitus writes that one of the conspirators, Natalis, during the interrogation was the first to give the names of everyone, including Seneca; And that Natalis was the only accused who denounced the philosopher, while the others did not mention him at all.

After being accused, Seneca decided to take his own life. According to Tacitus, he first drank the 'philosophers' poison' (hemlock) and then cut his veins while getting into a hot water bath exclaiming: “I offer this liquid as a libation to Jupiter Deliverer.”

Philosopher Seneca died on April 12th of the year 65. His wife was absolved by Nero.

'Death of Seneca' by Manuel Dominguez Sánchez, 1871

There were several executed, many committed suicide, many were exiled, others were pardoned. Tacitus accounts: "Nero rewarded with immunity the prompt information of Natalis. Milicus became rich with gifts and assumed in its Greek equivalent the name of Saviour." Some senators proposed that the month of April be called Nero, due in that month the emperor's life was saved; April had the name Nero until the day of his death.

"Nero summoned the Senate, addressed them in a speech, and further added a proclamation to the people, with the evidence which had been entered on records, and the confessions of the condemned. He was indeed under the lash of those who said that he had killed innocent men out of jealousy or fear. However, that a conspiracy was begun, matured, and conclusively proved was not doubted at the time by those who took pains to ascertain the truth, and is admitted by those who after Nero's death returned to the capital." - Tacitus

Nero on the stage

The incredible facts according to Suetonius:

While Nero was singing no one was allowed to leave the theatre even for the most urgent reasons. And so it is said that some women gave birth there. Men who were worn out with listening and applauding, secretly leaped the wall since the gates at the entrance were closed. Others feigned death so they could leave, and were carried out of the theater as if they were dead.

According Tacitus:

The Senate offered the emperor the "victory in song," and added the "crown of eloquence," that thus a veil might be thrown over a shameful exposure on the stage. First, he recited a poem on the stage; then, at the importunate request of the rabble that he would make public of all his accomplishments (these were their words), he entered the theatre, and conformed to all the laws of harp-playing.

For the Roman elite, theatre was the occupation of slaves and the lower classes. The elite was horrified to see that "Nero had dishonoured himself and Rome by putting on an actor's mask." As if this scandal were not enough, Nero also competed as a charioteer. But plebs were delighted with their emperor singer, actor and chariot rider.

The Mystery of Poppaea

It seems strange to me that not even experts in the History of Ancient Rome, can tell us when exactly this empress died. "Someday in the year 65" everyone says.

According Tacitus:

"After the conclusion of the games Poppaea died from a casual outburst of rage in her husband, who felled her with a kick when she was pregnant. That there was poison I cannot believe, though some writers so relate, from hatred rather than from belief, for the emperor was desirous of children, and wholly swayed by love of his wife."

Tacitus acknowledges that Nero loved his wife and was desirous of children, so such a violent attitude putting the life of who was going to be his heir at risk isn't credible. As most modern historians think, Poppaea probably died from complications of a miscarriage. Tacitus also accounts that Nero was distressed by the loss of his wife and unborn child.

The last of the Dynasty

In the year 66 (or 65? ) Nero, following the death of Antonia, the only surviving daughter of Emperor Claudius, became the last member of the dynasty.

According to historians, Antonia, Claudius' eldest daughter by his second wife, was unjustly sentenced to death by Nero.

According the official history: "Under false accusation of conspiracy, Antonia was executed because she refused Nero's marriage request after Poppea's death". They say the year, but not the day or the month in which such important event happened.

She was a 36-year-old lady who, after two marriages, had not been able to have children. She had only one pregnancy many years earlier, a child who was born weak and died shortly after. So why the 28-year-old emperor would be interested in marrying a woman who obviously couldn't give him an heir.

Tacitus wrote about a rumor that the conspirator Piso, once he managed to be proclaimed emperor, would immediately marry Antonia precisely because she was the daughter of Claudius and that would give more authenticity to his position, and that she would agree.

And Tacitus adds:

Piso, meanwhile, was wait in the sanctuary of Ceres, whence he was to be summoned by Faenius, the commander of the guard, and by the others, and then conveyed into the camp, accompanied by Antonia, the daughter of Claudius Caesar, to evoke the people's enthusiasm. So it is related by Caius Pliny. Handed down from whatever source, I had no intention of suppressing it, however absurd it may seem, either that Antonia should have lent her name at her life's peril to a hopeless project, or that Piso, with his well-known affection for his wife, should have pledged himself to another marriage, but for the fact that the lust of power inflames the heart more than any other passion.

I think the historian, even without wanting to say it, said it all

Tacitus himself suggests, and bases this on what was written by a contemporary author of Nero's reign (Gaius Pliny), that Antonia participated in the conspiracy. It is therefore highly probable that the execution took place in 65 and that the obscurity surrounding the date of Poppaea Sabina's death is due to the fact that Antonia died while the empress was still alive, which would make false the story that Antonia was executed by the widower Nero.

Whatever Tacitus wrote about the final two years of Nero's reign has been lost.

In the year 66 the Great Jewish Revolt or First Jewish-Roman War began. Nero sent one of the best generals, Vespasian, to stop the revolt. Vespasian goes with his eldest son Titus, both future emperors.

Neron married Statilia and undertook an artistic tour, along with a group of actors and musicians through southern Italy and the eastern Mediterranean. His wife accompanied him. Nothing is known about his relationship with this third wife, only that she survived him.

In 67: According to Suetonius, Nero ordered a young freedman named Sporus to be castrated, and treated him as a wife. Many modern historians, and I agree with them, believe that this is a myth. While there was a freedman named Sporus, he was simply one of several freedmen close to Nero, and may or may not have been a eunuch.

In March of 68 Vindex, governor of Gallia Lugdunensis, rebelled against Nero's fiscal policy. According to Suetonius, Nero was in Naples, and learned of the this first rebellion against him "on the anniversary day of his mother's murder."

Nero sent Verginius Rufus, governor of Germania Superior, to quell the revolt. Víndex requested support from Galba, governor of Hispania Tarraconense, but in May Verginius Rufus defeated Víndex who committed suicide. Most of the legions supported Nero, especially in the Eastern Provinces.

The story that Nero sent an army of prostitutes as Amazons is another typical Suetonius

June of 68 : Otto, former friend of Nero and ex-husband of Poppaea, after 10 years of resentment as Governor of Lusitania, where Nero sent him almost into exile, taking advantage of the conflicts, made his own "revolution"; Although in Lusitania there was only 1 legion.

While Galba, in southern Spain, had his own military adventure; And although Galba didn't have much more than Otho, the Senate, who hated Nero, finally saw an opportunity. And it should be noted that Galba, unlike Otho, was a Roman aristocrat; in fact, he was the last man from a patrician family of the old Republic to be emperor.

According to Suetonius, on June 8 the Senate declared Nero a public enemy, sentenced him to death, and proclaimed Galba as Princeps.

The suspicious death of Nero

'Death of Nero' by Vasily S. Smirnov, 1888

Suetonius, in the final chapter accounts:

Nero awoke about midnight and finding that the guard of soldiers had left, he sprang from his bed and sent for all his freedmen. Since no reply came back from anyone, he went himself to their rooms. But finding that all the doors were closed and that no one replied to him, he returned to his own chamber and cried: "Have I then neither friend nor foe?" and ran out as if to throw himself into the Tiber.

Then Suetonius writes that a freedman of Nero named Phaon offered the emperor his villa in the suburbs and Nero went on horseback, along with his freedmen Epaphroditus and Sporus, and two assistants.

But didn't the writer say that Nero was alone because everyone had left?.

Suetonius accounts that Nero entered the villa secretly, through a kind of tunnel in which they had dug.

Then, crawling on all fours through a narrow passage that had been dug, he entered the villa and lay down in the first room; He came to, on a couch with a common mattress, over which an old cloak had been thrown. (..) He wept and said again and again: "What an artist the world is losing!" - Suetonius

Suetonius continues a long story that describes Nero hesitating to take his own life, scared, weeping, lamenting; In the mentality of the ancient Romans this was unworthy, cowardly, shameful, despicable. Not to mention the detail of crawling on all fours through a dug passage to wake up on an old cloak.

He entreated someone to help him to take his life; anon he reproached himself for his cowardice. (..) And the horsemen were at hand who had orders to take him alive. When he heard them, he quavered. And he took the dagger to his throat aided by Epaphroditus, his private secretary. He was all but dead when a centurion rushed in, and as he placed a cloak to the wound, pretending that he had come to aid him, Nero merely gasped: "Too late!" and "This is fidelity!" With these words he was gone, with eyes so set and starting from their sockets that all who saw him shuddered with horror. -Suetonius

" And Nero met his death on the anniversary of the murder of Octavia"- Suetonius

It also had not failed of notice that the last piece which he sang in public was "Oedipus in Exile," and that he ended with the line: "Father, mother, wife, drive me to my death!." -Suetonius

His ashes were deposited by his nurses, Egloge and Alexandria, accompanied by his mistress Actea, in the family tomb of the Domitii on the summit of the Hill of Gardens. - Suetonius

Incredibly after an extensive book full of stories recounting in detail unimaginable atrocities committed by this emperor, Suetonius ends his book by writing this:

"People for a long time decorated his tomb with spring and summer flowers, and produced his statues as if he were still alive and would shortly return and deal destruction to his enemies. Nay more, Vologaesus, king of the Parthians, when sent messengers to the senate to renew his alliance, earnestly begged this too, that honour be paid to the memory of Nero. In fact, twenty years after his death, when I was very young, a man of obscure origin appeared, who claimed he was Nero; And the name Nero was still in such favour with the Parthians that they supported him vigorously and surrendered him with great reluctance."

Why is his death suspicious?

1. Three months earlier, Nero reacted without hesitation or concern to Vindex's rebellion. His new adversary was a 70-year-old governor of a small province, part of Hispania, supported by senators and a few legions. Nero had all the people, the most of the legions and even the Parthian empire on his side, so the decision to flee and take his own life due Galba's rebellion is inexplicable. And the best proof of how week Galba was is that seven months after being named emperor he was assassinated in the Roman Forum.

2. Three years earlier there was an intricate conspiracy in which they planned to assassinate Nero in a public place and pretend in front of the people that the emperor was feeling sick, get him out of there and then give the false news that he died due to illness. So why couldn't they do something as easy as kill him inside the palace -even with the complicity of his mysterious third wife who is not present at his funeral according to Suetonius himself- then say the next day that Nero fled and committed suicide.?

3. After his death, the rumor spread for more than 20 years that he was alive, that is, people doubted the official version given by the Senate. This is something that did not happen with any other emperor. Twenty years later a man claimed to be Nero and took refuge in Parthia, and the king believed him. Not even in Parthia did they believe the official story.

4. Suetonius accounts that the Senate proclaimed Galba emperor on June 8, and "some centurions had orders to capture Nero alive". But he also accounts that around midnight of that same day Nero was sleeping in his palace in Rome and when he suddenly woke up there was no one there, not even the soldiers who should have captured him in the morning or afternoon. They are like two pieces of a puzzle that definitely don't fit.

Without Nero knowing what they were up to with Galba, they could have killed him at night in his palace or they could also have captured him and taken him prisoner to one of those islands of exile as revenge. Many senators, as Tacitus accounts, mourned a son, a brother, a father, at the executions for the conspiracy of the year 65. Many had enough reasons to do something horrible.

Official history says that Emperor Nero took his life somewhere outside Rome. Therefore until archaeology, perhaps, discovers something fascinating that changes history, I must to say that this emperor committed suicide on June 9 of the year 68, at the age of 30, despite my doubts.

Be that as it may, the Julio-Claudian dynasty died with him.

Part I

[lulublack90]

Prompt 3 - Library

@wolfstarmicrofic June 3, word count 904

Previous part First part

The arts and crafts hadn’t been that bad. Remus thought it had probably been designed for younger campers, but each of the inhabitants of Gryffindor cabin now sported a red and gold woven friendship bracelet. 

“Shall we do the tour?” Sirius asked James. 

“Might as well,” James replied, looking at his watch. “We’ve still got about an hour until dinner.” 

“Where should we start?” Peter said, standing up from tying his shoelaces. 

“We’ll start with the boring and end with the good stuff.” Sirius grinned, grabbing Remus’s hand and leading him away from the main hall. Remus’s stomach flipped, and he willed his palms not to get sweaty. 

“This is the storeroom, don’t bother trying to get in, it’s really boring,” Sirius declared, not stopping. “There’s the kitchen. If you get hungry, the cooks are lovely and will make you something between meals, but don’t let Albus or Minnie catch you, because they will give you chores, and you do not want to do the chores,” Remus grinned, beginning to enjoy himself. “Then there’s the library,” Remus planted his feet at that one.

“A library?!” He asked excitedly. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those,” Sirius rolled his eyes, but took Remus inside anyway. 

It was small but had a good selection of books. There were books on local flora and fauna, local hiking paths, emergency first aid books, but also novels. It was Remus’s turn to drag Sirius this time, as neither of them let go. 

Remus ran his fingers across the spines of the books in front of him and picked a few to pull off the shelves. 

“Can I take these with me now or should I come back?” He looked to Sirius, as he seemed to have taken over the tour. A crooked smile spread across Sirius’s face.

“You can get them now,” Remus’s face lit up. He picked up three and let Sirius lead him over to the stern-looking librarian.  “Irma, my sweet forest flower, how are you this morning?” Sirius crooned at the scowling middle-aged woman. 

“It is Madam Pince and you know it, Mr Black. Do not make me tell McGonagall on you.” She narrowed her eyes at the books in Remus’s hand. “What do you want?”

“Remus, here wants to take some books out. He appears to be a bit of a bookworm. Should have guessed really, he looks like a bookworm.” Sirius teased. Remus quietly handed the books over to Madam Pince. 

“You’ll need to fill out this form before you can take them.” She said, passing Remus a sheet of paper asking for his name, date of birth and address. “If you lose or damage a book you will be expected to replace it.” Remus nodded. He’d have to be careful, his dad would blow a gasket if he had to pay for new books that Remus wouldn’t even be keeping. 

“Yes Madam Pince,” He said politely. 

“Hmmm,” She grunted at them. She peered at Remus's form, but unable to find anything wrong with it, she made a note of the books Remus wanted to borrow and handed them over. 

When they came out of the quietness of the library it was to shouting and swearing. 

Peter and James were rolling around on the grass, wrestling. 

“Oi, you two, pack it in. Let’s finish this up, Remus wants to read his books.” When they didn’t listen, Sirius let go of Remus’s hand and launched himself on top of James and Peter. The shouting intensified until Sirius managed to separate them. They were all laughing and joking. Remus relaxed as he realised they’d been messing about and not actually fighting. “Right back to the tour!” Sirius exclaimed as he took Remus’s hand again and dragged him to the next stop.  

“That’s the dock, that’s the boathouse and, obviously, that’s the lake. I’ll tell you about the monster that dwells in the depths of it later.” Sirius grinned wildly at Remus over his shoulder. “Okay, next is make out point.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty useless until the girls come over for the dance,” Peter groaned. “It’s got a nice view when it doesn’t have couples all over it,” Peter added. Remus looked down at his and Sirius’s entwined hands and gulped. Sirius caught him looking and waggled his eyebrows, making Remus blush from his head to his toes. He tried to pull his hand away, but Sirius held it tightly, not letting him let go. Remus had no idea what that meant. He had to force his brain to not start picking that apart now.

“And finally, my most favourite place in the entire camp. Our den.” Sirius pulled Remus through a line of trees and into a tiny circle with a ring of logs to sit on. It felt very enclosed as the surrounding trees had almost woven together, forming a shelter of sorts.

Sirius led him over to a log and pulled him down next to him. James and Peter came and sat opposite them. Sirius let go of his hand and leant backwards, moving a few rocks out of the way and picking up a small metal box. “And this is what we do in our den.” He opened the box and inside was a lighter, a pouch of loose tobacco, papers and a small baggy of green buds. Remus instantly knew what this little group got up to in their den. 

Next part

[nomie-11]

Chapter 3 - Seven Days Between Us

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“...Garrick Tavis. Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice carries over the formation as he reads from the death roll. 

“Well, isn't this awkward,” Xaden smirks, and every head in the courtyard turns in their direction. 

Genevieve’s heart is beating out of her chest as she glances over at Violet, who raises her chin in defiance, mirroring Xaden who is two steps ahead. He moves without fear, his shoulders straight and his head high. Every movement and stride of his anger-manifesting body is powerful and purposeful and Genevieve can’t get over the fact that she almost wants him dead. 

“You’re not… dead.” Captain Fitzgibbons, the scribe assigned to the Riders Quadrant, stares with wide eyes beneath his silver brow. His face turns a pale cream color, mirroring the folds of his uniform as his hands fumble with the death roll, dropping it. 

“Guess not,” Xaden replies. 

Commandant Panchel’s mouth hangs open as he turns toward them from his seat on the dais, and within seconds, General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos stand, blocking his view. A scribe girl grabs the death roll, and signs something at Violet, which Violet promptly responds to. Fuck, I wish I knew sign. 

Colonel Aetos’ cheeks grow increasingly red with every step the group takes, and his gaze skims the party, no doubt assessing who is here and who isn’t until his gaze lands on Genevieve and his eyes narrow. She clenches her fist, raising her own chin to replicate Violet’s false confidence. 

General Sorrengail almost smiles when she sees Violet, and it’s almost a look of pride, before it’s quickly masked by the professional distance she’s enforced since Violet enlisted. But there’s no anger in her eyes, no fear or shock either. Just relief. Violet was right, she wasn’t involved. 

“I don’t understand,” Fitzgibbons says to the two scribes behind him, then addresses Panchek. “They aren’t dead. Why would they have been reported for the death roll?” 

“Why were they reported for the death roll?” General Sorrengail asks Colonel Aetoes, her eyes narrowing. 

A cold breeze brushes past Genevieve, and her black-streaked hair flutters in the wind. And although it’s a momentary relief from the suffocating heat of July, Genevieve knows from what Violet has told her that this means the general is pissed. A flower blooms on the ground in front of Genevieve. 

“They’ve been missing for six days!” Aetoes seethes, his voice rising with each angry word. “Naturally we reported them dead, but obviously we should have reported them for desertion and dereliction of duty instead.” 

Now his words are pointed at Genevieve, but never once did she desert, she simply was just refusing. 

“You want to report us–” the undercurrent to that tone is obviously directed at Aetos challenging his girl, but that’s something Genevieve is choosing to ignore “--us for desertion?” Xaden walks up the stairs of the dais, and Aetoes backs up a step, fear flashing across his eyes. “You sent us into combat, and you’re going to report us for desertion?” 

Another twisting black vine is creeping up from the ground. 

“What is he talking about?” General Sorrengail asks, looking between Xaden and Aetos. 

“I have no idea.” Aetos grinds out. 

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” The lie was so smooth, it was infuriating. But impressive, because he doesn’t have a single tell. 

“It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” Xaden pivots slightly, as though he’s telling the wings and not leadership. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” 

Genevieve watches as tears form in Violet’s eyes and her breath hitches. Cadets around them murmur, but she stays focused on Xaden, trying to ignore the pain on her ex-best friend’s face. 

“We lost Liam Mairi and Soleil Telery,” Xaden adds, and then looks over his shoulder at Violet. “And we would have lost Sorrengail if Hale didn’t save her.” 

General Sorrengail pivots, and for a second she looks down at Violet in a way that isn’t reminiscent of a senior commanding officer. There’s worry and a touch of horror in her eyes. She looks like a mom, and Violet nods, the pain on her face intensifying. 

Then the General looks at Genevieve, and she braces herself for the longest, hardest glare of her life, but there’s approval in the General’s eyes. 

“He’s lying,” Colonel Aetos accuses. The certainty in his voice makes Genevieve almost take her last goodbyes. 

“I’m right behind the ridgeline,” Tairn reminds her. 

“Unclench your fists,” Garrick whispers. “You’re bleeding.” 

Genevieve lets out a shuddering exhale and her fists open, revealing the blood on her palms. 

“Why the hell would I lie?” Xaden tilts his head and looks down at Colonel Aetoes with pure disdain. “But surely if you don’t believe me, then General Sorrengail can discern the truth from her own daughter.” 

And there’s Violet’s cue. She ascends the stairs of the thick, wooden platform to stand at Xaden’s left side. 

“Cadet Sorrengail?” The general folds her arms and looks at her with expectation. 

Violet takes a breath in, and then out, clearing her throat. “It’s true.” 

“Lies!” Aetos shouts. “There’s no way two dragons were brought down by a drift of gryphons. Impossibile. We should separate them and interrogate them individually.” 

Vines snake up the platform posts as Genevieve’s shoulder’s tense. 

Colonel Aetos’s eyes snap to Genevieve’s. “General, surely you cannot believe any word that comes out of anyone’s mouth on her behalf.” 

What the actual fuck did I ever do? 

“My daughter vouches for her,” General Sorrengail crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you saying that a Sorrengail is a liar?” 

Colonel Aetos stiffens, and General Sorrengail gestures to her daughter. “Tell me what happened, Cadet Sorrengail.” 

“We flew for Athebyne, as ordered.” Violet is looking her straight in the eyes. “As Riorson said, we stopped at the lake about twenty minutes out so we could water the dragons and dismounted. I only saw two of the gryphons appear with their riders, but everything happened so damned fast. Before I could even get a grasp on what was happening…” Come on, Violet. Hold it together! Genevieve watches as Violet’s fingers brush over a little carving of Andarna Liam had been working on for her, before she takes a shallow breath. “Soleil’s dragon was killed, and Deigh was gutted.” There are tears in her eyes, but she blinks them away. “We didn’t stand a chance beyond the wards, General.” 

“And then?” The general asks, completely unemotional and unaffected. 

“Then Hale held Liam as he died,” She states, “There was nothing she could do to save him once Deigh had passed.” The tone in her voice is clear to Genevieve that Violet doesn’t believe a single word she is saying. “And I was stabbed mid-flight from a poison-tipped blade.” 

General Sorrengail’s eyes flare, and she jerks her gaze away. Violet turns to face Colonel Aetos as her mother reconciled with the fact that she almost was the mother to only one. “Hale saved me with her signet, so we took her to Athebyne to get her help, but we found the entire outpost deserted and a note that said that Wingleader Riorson could choose to keep watch over a nearby village or race to Eltuval.” 

“Here’s the missive.” Xaden reaches into his pocket and pulls out the orders from War Games. “Not sure what the destruction of  foreign villages had to do with War Games, but we didn’t stick around to find out. Cadet Hale was dying, and I chose to preserve what remained of my squad."He hands the crumpled orders to mom, and Genevieve watches as his eyes narrow in hatred as she opens the missive and sees the lines directed to Genevieve. “I chose to save your soldier.” 

She snatches the orders and stiffens. 

“It took us days to find someone capable of healing Genevive, though I’m sure she doesn’t remember being healed,” Violet finishes. “And the second her life was stable, we flew back here. We arrived about half an hour ago, as I’m sure Aimsir can verify.” 

“And the bodies?” Aetos asks. 

“Half the riot flew back to the lake and burned the bodies of both the riders and dragons, while Riorson took the other half to find help. If you’re looking for proof, then you can find it either about a hundred yards from the lake, in the clearing to the east, or in the fresh scars on our dragons.” Violet finishes with a confident nod. 

“Enough.” The General pauses, no doubt confirming with her dragon, then turns slowly toward Colonel Aetos, and though he has a few inches on her, he suddenly appears smaller. Frost blooms on the black flowers that curl up the dais. “This is your handwriting. You emptied a strategically invaluable outpost beyond the wards for War Games?”

“It was only for a few days,” Aetos retreats a few steps. “You told me the games were at my discretion this year.” 

“And clearly your discretion lacks common fucking sense,” she retorts. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear. Correct the death roll, get these cadets into formation, and commence graduation so the new lieutenants can get to their wings. I expect to see you in my office in thirty minutes, Colonel Aetos.” 

Relief surges through Genevieve, and the flowers on the dais finally wilt and retreat away.

Aetos stands at attention. “Yes, General.” 

“Cadet Hale,” Her voice booms once more, even though Genevieve is only standing a few feet down the dais with the rest of the squad. 

“Yes, General?” 

General Sorrengail steps closer, eyes scrutinizing every inch of her. Her voice is low, but laced with steel. “Did you truly save Cadet Sorrengail out of your own volition?” 

Genevieve’s heart hammers in her chest, but her wrists are not bound and her back is straight as she, for the first time, meets the General’s gaze without flinching. “Yes, General.” she replies with her voice steady.

For a moment, the general’s expression shifts from cold disdain to a flash of appreciation. 

“Thank you, Cadet Hale.” 

—----------------------------------------------

Genevieve didn’t drink. She never did before, and she certainly wasn’t starting now. But seeing all of her friends slightly tipsy—if not plastered—was a real highlight in the hell she had been living in. 

With the third years just graduating, everyone was partying—except for Xaden, who was off doing gods know what—and everyone was tipsy. Rhiannon and Violet definitely had their fair share of lavender lemonade with enough liquor in it to kill a man, and Ridoc was downing beer after beer like it was no one’s business. 

Genevieve had juice. 

A harmless choice, she thought, but her friends certainly didn’t see it that way. Rhiannon, her cheeks flushed and her laughter a little too loud, sidled up next to her, nearly spilling her lavender lemonade all over them both. She leaned in conspiratorially, her expression a mix of amusement and mischief.

“Genevieve,” Rhiannon slurred, stretching her name out in an exaggerated whisper, “why aren’t you drinking? You too good for us or something?”

Before she could answer, Violet joined in, swaying just a little as she draped an arm around Genevieve’s shoulders. Her now sharp and hateful gaze towards Genevieve was softened by the alcohol, her smile wide and teasing. “Yeah, Genevieve, what gives? It’s a celebration! Third years are gone, and we’re second years… you’re not even going to have a single drink with us?” 

Genevieve rolled her eyes but couldn’t help grinning. “Someone has to keep an eye on you all,” she replied, gesturing at the chaos surrounding them. “You’ve had enough for the both of us, anyways.”

”Oh, that’s not it,” Ridoc chimed in from across the table, his voice thick with drunken confidence as he pointed at her, sloshing his ale. “I know what this is about.” 

Genevieve raised an eyebrow, folding her arms, but Ridoc was unfazed. He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re saving yourself for a certain someone, aren’t you? Waiting around with your little juice because you’re hoping to see him before he leaves…”

She shot him a glare, but her cheeks betrayed her, warming under their relentless teasing. “I am not waiting around for anyone,” she protested, but her friends clearly didn’t believe her. “Maybe if you all drank a little less, you’d stop imagining things.”

”Oh, no, no, no,” Ridoc said, shaking his head in exaggerated denial. “This isn’t the liquor talking. We’re soberly and thoroughly convinced that you’re in love with Captain Broody.”

“He’s a lieutenant, actually.” She grumbled looking away. “And I really don’t care all that much.” Except they’ve all seen me in his flight jacket and know that I do, in fact, care a lot about him. Great. 

Rhiannon gasped theatrically, clutching her chest as she collapsed onto Sawyer’s shoulder. “Genevieve, are you saying you’d deny poor Xaden his dramatic farewell? Just think of him, gazing out over the horizon, waiting for you to show up, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he whispers your name—‘Gen…’” she broke off into a fit of giggles, clinking her glass against his as they snickered. 

Genevieve burst out laughing, unable to keep up her nonchalant act any longer. “I don’t think he’d even notice if I wasn’t there. He’s got more than enough on his mind, trust me.” 

“Oh, she’s deflecting!” Imogen shouted, pointing at her with a triumphant grin. “Classic avoidance tactic. Come on, Genevieve. Admit it. We’re your friends! We just want to hear you say it.” 

Sawyer grinned like he’d just won something. “Just once, Genevieve. Just say it—‘I, Genevieve Hale, wish Xaden Riorson would dramatically sweep me off my feet.’”

“Or, ‘I’d simply die without him,’ I’ve definitely heard that one.” Rhiannon added, trying and failing to sound serious. 

Genevieve sighed, exasperated but amused, watching her friends dissolve into a fit of giggles and cheers. Part of her did miss Xaden tonight—there was something reassuring about his quiet presence, even though he drove her mad half the time. And maybe she does want to say goodbye before he leaves. But she wasn’t about to admit that to this drunken crowd. 

“Oh, come on, Genevieve,” Ridoc teased, leaning against the table. “You could have one drink with us. Just one. What’s the harm?”

Genevieve raised her juice defiantly. “I’ll stick with my juice, thanks,” she replied, smirking as she watched them all dissolve into laughter again, teasing her with mock cries of, “Oh, Xaden!” and exaggerated swoons. 

And as her friends laughed and clinked glasses, slinging arms around each other’s shoulders and throwing ridiculous toasts into the air, Genevieve felt her own laughter bubble up, surprised by the lightness in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she relaxed, letting herself be a part of this ridiculous, joyful moment. 

Maybe she’d tell Xaden about it later—though she’d probably leave out the part about the teasing. 

She’d definitely leave out the teasing.

“Having fun?” He asks, pushing through her lowered shields with annoying ease. 

Suddenly, she’s very glad she’s sober, because mixing Xaden and alcohol sounds like the worst idea she could ever come up with. 

“Not really, to be honest.”  There’s this awful wave of longing that crashes over her immediately, and she can’t handle it anymore.

”I’ll be right back,” She says, setting down her glass. 

“Ooooh, Captain Broody calls~” Ridoc teased as Violet giggled. 

“Again, it’s Lieutenant Broody.” She huffed, before sighing. “Please, no one get alcohol poisoning before I get back. I won’t be long.” 

“I certainly hope it will be long,” Rhiannon says, her words slightly slurred. “Otherwise you’ll destroy all my fantasies when it comes to that one.” 

“…what?” Genevieve pauses, her brows drawn in confusion. “Gods, it’s impossible to talk to drunk people.” 

She rolls her eyes once more, before making her way across the chaotic room to Xaden. 

“Genevieve.” Wow, full name? 

“Lieutenant Riorson.” There’s a silver line at his collar showing his new rank, but no other markings that could give away his identity in case he falls behind enemy lines. No unit designation. No signet patches. 

“Hey, Hale,” Garrick says, but Genevieve’s eyes don’t shift away from Xaden. “Good job today.” 

“Thanks, Garrick,” she reposts, moving closer to Xaden despite all the alarm bells and whistles blaring off inside her head. 

“Gods, you two.” Garrick shakes his head. “Do us all a favor and figure your shit out. I’ll meet you at the flight field.” He smacks Xaden’s shoulder and walks off. 

“You look…” she sighs, because it’s not like she’s ever successfully lied to him before, sober or not. “Really good in officer flight leathers.” 

“They’re almost exactly like cadet ones.” A corner of his mouth lifts, but it’s not quite a smile. 

“You looked good before, too.”

Xaden tilted his head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he scanned her face. “You’re not drunk at all.” 

“Believe it or not, I don’t need a drink to have fun,” She said, shrugging. 

“Ah, yes,” he said, in a tone that was a touch too knowing. “You just enjoy being this tense, then?” 

She scoffed, refusing to rise to his bait. “I’m serious. I just don’t drink. No hidden meaning behind it.” 

He raised an eyebrow, that smirk widening. “Oh, really? So it has nothing to do with wanting to have a clear head to… I don’t know, say goodbye to me?” He looked so amused with himself, like he’d cracked some great mystery. 

Genevieve blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What? I am not—”

“That’s so cute, Gen,” he teased leaning in slightly. “Didn’t know you were so sentimental.” 

She rolled her eyes, but a part of her wanted to laugh, despite herself. “Are you drunk? You’re seriously deluded if you think I’m here to see you off. I just needed to get a break from Ridoc calling you Captain Broody.” 

“I’m a Lieutenant—” he huffed “—and not drunk.” But he was clearly enjoying this too much. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I just left right now, without even a proper goodbye.” 

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly forced herself to look bored, tilting her head. “I could use a break from your dramatics.” 

Xaden chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, of course. And I’m sure your friends would never let you live it down if they knew you’re here because of me.” 

Genevieve felt the heat in her cheeks rise again, and she scoffed. “You’re insufferable. They already are convinced I’m waiting for some grand farewell speech from you.” 

He grinned, stepping just a little closer. “Well, I could give you one, if that’s what you’re really hoping for.” 

“Not happening, not in front of all these people,” She said, shaking her head. “And for the record, you’d be lucky if I even consider saying goodbye.” 

Xaden’s eyes softened a bit as he glanced over her face, and he didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was quieter. “So you don’t mind that I’m leaving tonight instead of tomorrow morning?” 

“What? Why?” She follows him into the commons, where he grabs his rucksack from beside the wall and slings it over his shoulders casually, as if there aren’t two swords hanging from the back of it. 

A group of cadets hover around the announcements board like the new leadership list is going to appear at any second and they might be erased from it if someone discovers they’re not watching. Yep, there’s Dain in the center of them. 

“You aren’t waiting for tomorrow morning to leave?” She asks him, keeping her voice low as they cross the stone floor of the expansive space. 

“They prefer wingleaders to vacate their rooms first, since the new guys like to move in quickly,” He glances at the crowd around the announcement board. “And since I’m guessing you’re not offering a place in your bed—”

“I’m very much sober and not making lapses in judgment tonight,” She assures him as he opens a door to the rotunda. “And I don’t sleep with people I don’t trust, so unless I get full disclosure…” She shrugs. 

“I’ll earn your trust as soon as you realize you don’t need full disclosure. You only have to have the guts to start asking the questions you actually want answers to. Don’t worry about the bed. We’ll get back there. The anticipation is good for us.” He smiles—really smiles, not a stupid grin or smirk—and Genevieve almost debates opening her bed to him just at the look of it.

“I’ve lived my whole life being lied to with half-truths, so I tell you we’re not together because you won’t give me complete honesty, and you counter with ‘it’s good for us’?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes while they walk down the stairs and past two of the marble pillars in the rotunda. “You’re so arrogant.” 

“Confidence is not arrogance. I don’t lose the fights I pick. And we’re both allowed to have boundaries. You’re not the only one who gets to see the rules in this relationship.” 

Fair point. 

“And you're picking a fight with me?” 

“Picking a fight for you. There’s a difference.” His expression hardens as his gaze jerks left, toward the approach of Colonel Aetos and a rider wearing the rank of major. 

“Hale. Riorson.” The colonel’s mouth quirks into a sarcastic smile. “So lovely to see you both tonight. Leaving for the Southern wing so soon? The front will be lucky to have such a capable rider.”

Genevieve’s chest tightens. Xaden is going to the front. Oh, Colonel Aetos was such a lucky bastard that there were witnesses in this common area, because otherwise he would be dead. 

“I’d say I’ll be back before you can miss me,” Xaden replies, his hands loose at his sides, “but word has it you pissed off General Sorrengail enough to be reassigned to a coastal outpost.” 

The colonel’s face blotches. “I might not be here, but you won’t be as often either. Only once every fortnight according to your new orders.” 

What. 

The major slides his hand into the breast pocket of his perfectly pressed dress uniform and pulls out two folded missives. His black hair is perfectly combed, his boots perfectly shined, his smile perfectly cruel. 

Genevieve watches as a flower blooms between the wooden floorboards. 

“Where are my manners?” Colonel Aetos says. “Hale, this is your new vice commandant, Major Varrish. He’s here to tighten the ship, as they say. We seem to have gotten a little lax with what we allow around here. Naturally the quadrant’s current executive commandant will still see to operations, but Varrish’s new position only answers to Panchek.” 

Alarm bells, ding-ding-ding danger! Come on, Genevieve! This man looks like he’s going to kill you! 

The look in Varrish’s eyes sent a shiver through her spine, as if he could see right through her every defense. Genevieve forced herself to stand taller, meeting his gaze with a steady stare. 

“How fortunate,” she replied, voice laced with a sarcasm she hoped covered her unease. “I can’t wait to see what exciting new policies he’ll be enforcing.” 

Varrish gave her a cold, humorless smile. “I’m sure we’ll become well acquainted, Cadet Hale. There are many areas you are in need of improvement… and consistency.” 

Xaden’s posture shifted, just enough for Genevieve to notice his shoulders tense, his jaw tightening. His fingers flexed slightly at his side, as if resisting the urge to reach for the hilt of his sword, before he takes both missives, careful not to touch Varrish’s hands, and gives Genevieve the one with her name scrawled on the front. They crack Melgren’s personal wax seals at the same moment, then unfold the official orders. 

Cadet Genevieve Hale is hereby given two days of leave once every fourteen days to be used only to fly with Tairn directly to and from Sgaeyl’s current duty station or location. Any other absence from classes will be considered a punishable offense. 

Genevieve grits her teeth to stop herself from giving the colonel the reaction he desperately wants, and slips the missive into the pocket at her hip. She guesses that Xaden has the same missive that she does, which means that rotating their leaves will leave them seeing each other once a week. 

Will leave Tairn and Sgaeyl seeing each other once a week. They’re never apart for more than three days. A week will leave them in a near-constant state of pain. It’s unfathomable. 

“Tairn?” 

He roars so loudly it rattles her brain. 

“Dragons give their own orders,” Xaden says calmly, pocketing his papers.

“Guess we’ll see.” Colonel Aetos nods, then turns to Genevieve. “I was worried about you after that earlier display, until I remembered something.” 

“And what is that?” Xaden asks, stepping forward as if almost to put himself between Genevieve and Aetos. 

“Secrets make for poor leverage. They die with the people who keep them.” 

What the fuck. 

“Good thing we aren’t keeping any secrets,” Xaden retorts. 

Aetos’s smile shifts to the softer one Genevieve can only imagine is reserved for his children and family, and the transformation is so eerie. “Do be careful with who you share your war stories with, Genevieve. We’d hate to have to lock you up again.”

What. The. Fuck. 

Aetos stares at her for a moment, making sure she gets his point, then turns and walks into commons without another word, Varrish following close behind. 

Genevieve’s hands shake as vines twist up her legs. 

“Come on, let’s go outside,” Xaden says softly, and she knows that he knows she’s probably about to cry. 

She follows him out, hands shaking and head pulsing in pain, each tremor holding tension as if the very air around her was tightening. The vines climbing her legs felt prickly as she walked, their tight hold echoing the sudden dread snaking through her chest, threatening to choke her. She swallowed, desperately to steady her breath, but each inhalation only fueled the panic blooming within her like those twisting vines. Aetos’s parting words echoed in her mind, a chill winding its way down her spine. 

“Lock you up again.” 

The words lashed at memories she’d tried so hard to bury, images of her captivity resurfacing unbidden—cold and damp walls, dark and suffocating spaces where her strength felt stripped away with each passing day. Her breaths quickened, shallow, and ragged, no longer capable of sustaining calm. She clenched her fists to stanch the trembling, yet the panic only dug deeper. The control she fought to maintain splintered, fraying faster than she could contain it. 

Xaden paused as they walked to the middle of the courtyard, sensing her spiraling. His gaze flickered to her tense face, worry clouding his eyes. “Gen?” he said, voice low, yet piercing enough to ground her. 

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her throat felt raw, tight, as if words were buried too deeply to pull out. She wanted to tell him she was fine, to force herself to smile and play off the moment as inconsequential. But she couldn’t. The fear clawed at her, relentless, and her mind seemed to spiral down the darkest paths. 

“Why are you going to the southern wing? Why are you going so far?” her voice was a low, panicked whisper, and he rested a hand on her arm, his thumb rubbing slow circles in an attempt to ground her. 

“There was no other choice by the time they handwrote our orders. I’ll be at Samara. I spent today packing and shipping most of my things.” 

Samara was so far away. Their dragons would barely have any time together after that long flight. She would barely have any time with him after a flight like that. 

“They’ll only have a few hours together every time they make the flight.” 

“Yeah, she’s pretty pissed.” 

“We’ll only have hours to…” She whispers, looking away, the awful dread and panic in her eyes putting a stone in his stomach. She’s terrified, this is the most scared he’s ever seen her. Not even in the face of venin did she look so petrified of a possibility. “You know, pass information.” 

“Pretty sure that’s precisely the idea. They’ll split us up for as long and as often as possible. We’ll just have to make the most of what time we get.” 

“Please don’t go,” the plea spills out before she could stop it. Her voice was so small, the words barely audible. She hated how they made her sound, weak, as though she was already that girl trapped all over again. But she couldn’t stop. “They’re going to trap me again. You can’t go.” 

She forced herself to meet his gaze, hoping he’d understand, though a part of her feared the vulnerability in her words would make him pull away. She was always strong, unbreakable, but she couldn’t hide from the fear she had about this potential situation. 

“Genevieve,” he murmured, his voice a low balm against the turmoil. “You know I can’t stay.” 

He reaches out, and she doesn’t retreat when he cradles the nape of her neck. 

Her eyes flashed around the courtyard full of drunk idiots, trying to assess whether or not they were watching her be this vulnerable. She couldn’t even be vulnerable around Liam—which hurt her now more than ever, because she wished she was—so how could she be vulnerable around strangers, drunk or not?

“Listen to me,” he lowers his voice and gently tugs her toward him, shooting a glance at a group of tipsy cadets watching nearby. “It’s alright, they’re barely lucid.” “Play along.” 

She nods. 

“I’ll be back in seven days,” he says, clearly for the benefit of the people passing by. “Sgaeyl and Tairn won’t be able to talk over the distance. They’ll be able to sense emotions, but that’s it. Remember that leadership will read any missive we send.” he leans down, holding her tightly. 

“A lot can happen in seven days.” She understands what he is saying in the rational part of her brain, but the emotional side of her just wants to be safe. With him. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” 

“Nothing that matters will change,” he assures her for the benefit of onlookers. “Don’t involve yourself in anything Bodhi and the others are doing.” He has that look—the steely one he gets when he’s sure he’s right. 

“You really aren’t going to change, are you?” she whispers, chest tightening. 

“This isn’t about us. Every eye will be on you, and we don’t know if your relic offers you the same protection that mine does if you’re caught alone. Involving yourself endangers everything we’re working for. And we really don’t want to give them another reason to lock you up again.” Another group of cadets wanders closer, heading toward the rotunda. 

It’s hard to argue against that, she wants anything but being captive once more. There’s no doubt in her mind that if she’s held again, they won’t let her out. 

“I’m going to miss you.” His hand flexes on the back of her neck as a couple of riders from Third Wing get a little too close. “You can only fully trust those who were with us at Resson. And Bodhi’s going to be there for you to talk to. Violet as well.” 

“Think of all the spare time you’ll have without having to constantly train me on the mat.” She rests a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart underneath her fingertips, seeing the thread intertwined with his life. She blames her incessant fear for the future for the lapse of judgment, but it really makes her feel better. 

“I’d much rather have you under me on the mat than spare time.” His arm wraps around her waist, tugging her in closer. “When it comes to the other marked ones, don’t risk trusting them. Not yet. They know they can’t hurt you, but that doesn’t mean they won't try to get back at Violet.” 

“Back to that, are we?” She tries to lift a small smile, but the sheen of tears in her eyes betrays her. 

“Never left that,” he reminds her, keeping his voice low even though the others in the courtyard are now giving them more than enough privacy. “Keep yourself alive and safe, and I’ll see you in seven days.” His hand slides to the side of her neck, and his mouth to only a breath above hers. “We managed to keep each other alive today. Trust me yet?” 

Her heart jolts. She wants nothing more than to kiss him, but not now, not here, not in front of everyone. 

“With my life,” She whispers. 

“That’s all?” His mouth hovers above hers, all promise and no delivery. 

“That’s all.” 

“Too bad,” he whispers, lifting his head. “But like I said, anticipation is a good thing.” 

They stood there for a heartbeat, lingering in the closeness, aware that this is their last moment of normalcy before he leaves and she stays. Genevieve felt his warmth seep into her, a small comfort in the midst of all the fear and uncertainty clawing at her. 

Xaden’s hand slipped down her arm, and she felt his fingers brush hers, a soft touch that grounded her, reminding her to stay strong, even if her heart ached with every beat. She wanted to hold onto him, to find a reason to make him stay, to change the inevitable. 

“Gen…” his voice was a low murmur, and the way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. “No matter how far they send me, how many days pass… I’ve never left you. You know that, right?” 

She nodded, biting her lip to stop the wave of emotion that threatened to spill over. She wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her or himself, but it didn’t matter. The world felt as if it were slipping away, and all she could cling to was this moment. 

“Seven days,” he reminded her. “Just seven.” 

A small, shaky breath escaped her. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

He finally let her go, fingers lingering as they parted. She watched him step back, the distance between them feeling like miles already. Xaden’s gaze never wavered, and she felt the promise in his eyes, a silent vow that he would come back, that he wouldn’t let them pull him too far away. 

“Take care of yourself,” he said softly, almost a whisper. “And try not to give Aetos or Varrish any reason to doubt you.” 

“You too,” she managed to reply, though her voice felt raw.

“See you in seven days, Genevieve.” He backs away, moving toward the tunnel that leads to the flight field. “Try not to flip the world upside down while I’m gone.” 

She just stands there for another couple of minutes after he leaves, breathing deeply, trying to reign in this deep sense of dread. Feeling the chill of the evening settle around her, she hugs herself, trying to hold onto the warmth of his presence, even as it faded with each step he took. 

“He’ll be back,” Rhiannon says, coming up behind her, holding a missive of her own, excitement shining in her eyes despite the somber tone of her words. 

“I don’t care,” She shrugs, eyes cast downwards as she clearly plays her own emotions down. “What has you fighting a smile?” 

“Did something happen between you two?” She moves the letter to her pocket.

“What’s the letter?” Genevieve presses, because no matter how much she loves Rhiannon, she will not be airing her dirty laundry. “Did you get orders?” Orders mean one thing, so Genevieve grabs her shoulders and shakes her. “Did you?” 

She grimaces. “I have good news and bad news.” 

“Bad news first.” Always bad news first. 

“Aetos is our new wingleader.” 

“Great,” her face falls. “No surprise. What’s the good news?” 

“Cianna, our executive officer, moved up to executive officer of the section,” her smile is brighter than any mage light. “And you’re looking at our new squad leader!”

“Yes!” Geneveive exclaims, giving her a hug. “That’s amazing! You’re amazing!”

“Are we celebrating?” Sawyer asks loudly from the edge of the courtyard. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Ridoc shouts, ale sloshing over the sides of his mug as he and Violet rush over to them. “Squad Leader Matthias!”

Violet shoves a glass of lavender lemonade into Genevieve’s hand, as they arrive. 

“What’s your first order, squad leader?” Sawyer asks, as Nadine races to catch up to his long strides. 

Rhiannon glances over each of them and nods as though coming to a decision. “Live.” 

The words hang in the air for a moment, and for the briefest second, Genevieve feels the weight of everything pressing down on her, all the secrets, all the fear. Then, the tension in her chest starts to loosen as she sees the smiles of her friends, their eyes bright and full of anticipation. The weight on her shoulders lifts, if only for a moment, as Rhiannon raises her glass and grins. 

“To life,” Rhiannon continues, her voice full of strength, “and to making sure we don’t let it slip through our fingers.” 

Genevieve blinks, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest. Her friends are here. They’re with her. For once, there’s no threat, no immediate danger, just the warmth of the people she loves and trusts around her. 

She stares at the glass of lavender lemonade in her hand. It’s sweet, a little tart, and it smells like spring and strong alcohol. 

Genevieve looks around the circle, meeting each of their eyes—Sawyer with his sly grin, Ridoc with his carefree laughter, Nadine and Violet standing close together, their faces lit by the lamplights, Rhiannon’s pride in her eyes as she watches the squad gather. 

“You’ve earned it,” Rhiannon says softly, raising her own glass. 

Genevieve smiles—a real smile this time, a small, genuine curve of her lips. It’s not much, but it feels like everything. “To life,” she murmurs, echoing Rhiannon’s sentiment, and for the first time in days, there’s peace around her. 

“To life!” Sawyer and Ridoc cheer, and the six glasses of the group clink together in cheers before Genevieve takes a long sip from her glass. 

Tonight, she would smile, and let herself be happy. 

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

Hey guys! What’s up? I’m sorry this is a day late, I was absolutely dead yesterday, I had like seventeen assignments due on Monday and four tests on Tuesday and then I got 3 hours of sleep into Wednesday, I legitimately thought i was going to die. I also have a condition where im just constantly nauseous and yesterday was rough 😭

Anyways, I’m back and better than ever just in time to spend all day today baking for thanksgiving! I did want to say that I’m really thankful for you all for reading this, i absolutly adore each and every one of you and all the love you give me. Thank you for reading the wounded healer and the tragic hero, you all mean the world to me.

As always, let me know if you enjoyed, and if you did, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I’ll be back Saturday (i swear) with chapter 4!

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[ripdragonbeans]

Do You Believe In Fate // Part 4 // Aegon II x Reader

Summary: Tensions are high during dinner. The next day you all spend it outside but Cassandra decides to stir up trouble.

Warnings: None

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

Entering the dining room, all was quiet. Just like in the living room, there was thick tension. Alicent sat at the head of the table with Criston to her right. Across from Criston sat Helaena. Next to Helaena was Aegon and Cassandra. That left the seats next to Criston open. 

Aemond played the part of the ever loving boyfriend perfectly. He pulled out your chair and kept your hand in his the whole time. You were sure to give him a sweet smile before sitting down. Aemond let go of your hand to seat himself but quickly had yours back in his grasp. He looked at you with a big, love struck eye. You let yourself get lost in it, thinking about looking into Aegon’s. Aemond simply gave you a knowing look and smirked.

Aegon cleared his throat. “Now that we're all here I’d love to share with you all how I proposed to my beautiful Cassandra.”

Bile ran up your throat but you swallowed it down.

“A story I'm wanting to hear since you didn't include me in it,” Alicent said.

Cassandra interjected before Aegon had a chance to speak. “Oh, it was so wonderful!”

A small frown appeared on Aegon’s face but was quickly replaced with a shit eating grin. Everyone else may have missed it but you didn't. You spotted Aegon taking his hand away from Cassandra and flexed it on the table. You knew Aegon well enough to know that he's the one who liked to tell the stories. 

“He took me out to a beautiful park. We walked around admiring the trees and flowers and stuff.”

You coughed. “And stuff?”

“Hey, she may not be as good with words as you,” Aegon defended Cassandra, “but at least now she has a future husband.”

“Wow, what a great way to insult your fiance, Aegon.”

“I did not insult her!”

“You kind of did,” Aemond jumped in. “You said that she's not as eloquent as my girl and implied that her worth is just now important because she's engaged to you.” 

Cassandra and Aegon looked at Aemond with their mouths open wide.

“Anyway,” Cassandra laughed, attempting to draw everyone’s attention again. “The park was beautiful and our walk had the best views. It was actually one of the first places Aegon took me when we started dating.”

You bit back a laugh knowing full well that Aegon wouldn’t take a date to a freaking park.

Cassandra continued with her story. “There was a bridge that looked across a stunning lake. He stopped me in the middle of the bridge and bent down on one knee. The rest is history.” She flashed a toothy smile and held out her hand to show off the sparkly diamond ring that adorned her finger.

Looking at the ring, you turned to Cassandra. “It’s so…you.”

Batting her eyelashes, she gave you an innocent smile. There was fire in her eyes, though. One that challenged you to say something else, to insult her. “Thank you. So when are you two going to get engaged?”

Aegon addressed Aemond but held your eyes. “Yeah, when?”

“Oh, we haven’t thought about that yet,” you jumped in. “We’re taking our time and we want to enjoy each other and not think or focus too hard about what’s ahead. Neither of us have graduated yet and we want to complete university before making any big decisions.”

“Well, you know what they say, brother,” again, Aegon only addressed Aemond. “Ring by spring; gotta get that ring before your final spring semester.”

“Hey,” Aemond gently gripped your chin so you could face him. “We’re in no rush, okay? We’ll take our time and we won’t let my brother, of all people, force us into something we’re not ready for.”

You nodded your head and brought his hand from your chin to your lips to brush a kiss on his knuckles. Silence enveloped the table again. While you were looking only at Aemond, you felt Aegon’s hot gaze on the back of your head. 

Helaena broke the quietness. “Well, if anyone is interested, I’m now the proud parent of a lunar moth, comet moth, and a rosy maple moth!”

“Oh, tell me about them,” Alicent hopped on the train fast.

Helaena and Alicent talked about the moths, what their names are, what their personalities are like, and so on. If only they were real. Helaena was lying out of her ass and you couldn’t help but tuck your head into Aemond’s chest and laugh quietly.

Dinner ended up being a fairly quiet one. There was the occasional giggle from Cassandra, usually due to something Aegon whispered in her ear. Each giggle was like nails on a chalkboard. They grated against your brain and it made you want to throw up. Each time your jaw tense, though, Aemond was quick to place a hand on your leg or hand in show of silent support. Desserts were about to be passed around but you took that moment to call it a night.

“Alicent, it's been wonderful catching up with you, with everyone, really,” you nodded at Aegon and he returned it with a blank stare. “But I'm really tired and I think I'll turn in for the night. I assume I'm gonna be in Helaena's room?”

Alicent gave you a warm smile. “That's where I was initially going to put you for the night but since you and Aemond are dating you can sleep in his room if you'd like,” she turned to Aegon. “The same goes for you and Cassandra.”

You held back a cringe when she brought up Cassandra sleeping in Aegon’s room. Instead, you went to Alicent to give her a hug goodnight and left for Aemond's room.

Once you closed the door behind you, you knocked the back of your head against it.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself.

After a few moments of standing against the door and contemplating your life’s choices, you crossed over to the bed and plopped down face first. You let the quiet wash over you and calmed yourself before you could start thinking about everything that has happened within the last couple of hours.

“Can I come in?” Helaena was on the other side of the door. “I know you're in there and you're probably thinking about something silly. Let me in so we can talk, sweetie.”

Groaning, you got up and dragged your way to the door and opened it, revealing a worried Helaena. She enveloped you in a tight embrace as she stepped into the room.

As she released you from the hug she asked, “So, you're dating Aemond now, huh?”

You chuckled and shrugged, “Yeah, I guess I am.” Taking a deep breath, you looked at your friend with some insecurity. “I just didn't know what to do. I don't know if I want to make Aegon jealous or to do something to make him talk to me. I panicked, Hel, I really did, and now I don't know what I dragged Aemond into.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Helaena chimed as Aemond entered the room.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I willingly went along with it, it’s okay,” he said. “Like I mentioned earlier, bringing Cassandra was a stupid move. I’m also pretty sure it’s fake. Aegon wouldn’t settle down that quickly, if at all.”

The more you thought about it, the more you agreed with Aemond. It didn’t make sense. While it was a few years ago, Aegon said that Cassandra was just fun, nothing serious. 

“What’s your plan with the fake dating?” asked Helaena.

You weren’t confident in your answer, “I guess to make Aegon jealous? Try to lure him out of the engagement?”

“And if it’s real? His engagement?”

“Then I guess it’s time I let him go.”

You woke up in Aemond’s bed feeling a little more steady than when you fell asleep. The events of yesterday settled in your mind and you had come up with a better game plan. Picking up your phone, you checked the time. It was early enough that no one else but Helaena would be awake; she’s always been an early riser. The soft snoring from the floor indicated that Aemond was still asleep. Very carefully, you got out of the bed and tiptoed around Aemond to leave the room.

As you exited the room you found that you were correct. There was someone in the kitchen, humming to themselves, as they prepared breakfast. You knew that humming anywhere. It was Helaena. A smile graced your lips as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Whatcha making this morning?” you greeted her.

Helaena looked over her shoulder to glance at you. “Just some eggs and bacon for everyone. Speaking of bacon, can you get started on them for me?”

“Of course!”

It was just like when you were younger, making breakfast with Helaena. The two of you would be the first ones awake and prepare it for everyone while you two had some girl talk. 

“Sleep well? I know you had a comfy bed to share,” she winked.

Rolling your eyes, you prepared the sausages for the frying pan. “Yes, I was snuggled all up with Aemond and we whispered sweet nothings to each other.”

Helaena snickered, earning her a smack on the arm. 

“He slept on the floor, you goof. I told him I’d take the floor but you know how he is. Always being the chivalrous one.”

“It sounded like Aegon had a silent night, I didn’t hear anything coming from his room.”

“Thank the gods. If there were noises coming from his room I’d be gone. I wouldn’t be able to stand that.”

“Gods, Aegon, you’re just so good in bed!” You heard Cassandra yell.

“And of course they’re both awake. Prepare yourself,” muttered Helaena.

“Shh! You don’t need to yell it for the whole house to hear!” You could hear Aegon smack his face with the palm of his hand. They weren’t exactly good at being quiet.

You glanced at Helaena, both of you concealing your desire to laugh as best as you could. It wasn’t until you noticed the smoke coming from your frying pan that you were brought back to your breakfast making.

“Oh, shit! The bacon!” You hastily got them off the pan and onto a plate.  “At least they’re not absolutely unedible?”

They were burnt to the point of almost being black and they crumbled at the slightest touch.

Helaena sighed. “Aegon will eat them.”

“I HEARD MY NAME!” He called from the hallway. 

Cassandra and Aegon walked into the kitchen hand in hand.

“What is that delicious smell?” Cassandra asked.

“That would be burnt bacon,” you said matter-of-factly.

“My part of breakfast, however,” Helaena butt in, “is not burnt and is still edible. The bacon is only kind of edible.”

As Helaena passed you, you bumped her with your hip and stuck your tongue out.

“What a sophisticated woman you are,” she joked as she put the eggs on the dining room table.

Cassandra cocked her head to the side. “That’s all we have for breakfast?”

“You’re more than welcome to make whatever you like from what we have in the fridge,” Helaena offered. 

“Aegon, why don’t you make her breakfast? Since you’re engaged and you obviously love her so much that you’re engaged,” Helaena said sweetly.

Aegon puffed out his chest. “That’s right. I do love her so much. Now,” he clapped his hands. “Where to start…”

“I would check to see what’s in the refrigerator first,” you suggested.

“Yeah, a great place to start. Let’s see here.” Aegon opened it up and rifled through its contents. “Leftovers!” He produced a container of last night’s dinner. “Perfect for breakfast, a reminder of last night!”

Cassandra’s eyes lit up. “Aw, Aegy, you’re the best!”

You threw up a little in your mouth. “Since that’s settled, I’m going to wake up Aemond for breakfast,” you said as you exited.

Once you were out of their view, you booked it to Aemond’s room.

“Aemond! Aemond!” you stage whispered once you were in his room. “Something is up with Cassandra and Aegon!”

Aemond groaned as he sat himself up. When you left the room he took his bed back. Rubbing the sleep out of his one eye, he tried to pay attention to your ramblings.

“Cassandra was saying something about how good he was in bed, ugh, but then Aegon told her to be quiet. If it were anyone else but Aegon I wouldn’t think anything of it but he has never minded his achievements being known. Even by family, which is a little much. And then -”

“Whoa, slow down,” Aemond stopped you. “Aegon is bragging again? That isn’t news.”

You sat down next to Aemond and hit his arm. “You’re not listening to me. Aegon was telling her to be quiet. Like he didn’t want anyone to hear anything. When Helaena suggested that Aegon make something for Cassandra for breakfast, he just pulled out some leftovers.”

“No, that’s pretty accurate. I wouldn’t look too deep into that. He’s always been too lazy to cook anything. He just rifles through the refrigerator.”

“Well, either way, something is up. I just know it.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, I promise. Or we’ll just make Aegon miserable. I’m fine with both.” Aemond offered you a small smile. “Let me get changed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

With a nod of your head, you left Aemond’s room. When you closed the door, however, you found yourself face to face with Aegon. You almost ran into him but stopped yourself. Taking a deep breath, you could smell his cologne, something so familiar yet so foreign. His violet eyes bore into yours.

“Doesn't sound so couple-y to me. Are you sure you and Aemond are actually in a relationship?” questioned Aegon.

“What, like you and Cassandra are the epitome of couples? You two don’t sound like a real couple either,” you shot back at him.

“Cassandra and I are engaged. As in we’re going to marry each other.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” A smirk settled on Aegon’s lips.

“Of course I’m not jealous. I’m with Aemond, remember?”

“Ah yes, my brother. How could I forget that my once best friend is dating my brother?”

Heat boiled underneath your skin at him implication. “‘Once best friend?’ Don’t pin that on me, Aegon! You’re the one who left!”

“I didn't leave you!”

“You chose Cassandra over me. Once you started dating her you were never around anymore. No texts, nothing. So don't tell me you didn't leave me.” Tears burned in the corners of your eyes.

“But you avoided me! You were still around the house but would turn and walk away as soon as I showed up. You'd cross the street if we saw each other in town. Don't blame it all on me when you didn't put in any effort, either.” Aegon was stepping closer to you. 

“Did you ever think, that maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to be around you because you hurt me? That maybe seeing you caused me pain, that it hurt seeing you happy with someone else? That it was best for me to just avoid it all to ease that pain? I lived in ignorant bliss, ignoring you and Cassandra. I could forget that we were ever close, that there was something between us, that thing that you denied was ever there. So sorry, sorry for moving on. Sorry for healing.” You tried to push past Aegon but he didn't budge.

Aemond's bedroom door opened behind you. He quickly spotted you and Aegon against the wall.

“Hey, back off of my girl,” he growled at his brother.

“Relax, brother. I wasn’t doing anything to hurt her.”

Aemond scoffed. “Yeah, and I have two eyes. You're not going to hurt her, not anymore.”

As Aemond whisked you away, he immediately began asking questions about Aegon and what all was said. By the time you two had made it to the living room, you had answered most of, if not all, his questions with a quick yes or no. Once on the couch, the two of you continued your conversation in hushed voices. 

“I understand we're a fake couple,” Aemond started, “but our friendship is real and I refuse for you to be hurt by him again.” He held your hand tight in his.

Cassandra's voice cut to the living room. “I know, the ring is beautiful. He spent a fortune on it but, you know, he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep my heart.”

You snorted at her proclamation. “Even she sounds fake, Aemond. You and I both know that Aegon wouldn't spend a shit ton of money on a ring.”

“Even if you're right, I don't want him to break your heart again.”

“He can't break my heart any more than he already has.”

“You say that but you know that's not true. Letting him in again gives him the opportunity to hurt you even more. I don't think I could stand by and watch that. Helaena wouldn't be able to, either.”

“I miss him so much, Aemond. Seeing him with Cassandra has always caused me pain but seeing him now makes me want to shake him and tell him to wake up. He's making stupid decisions but I've kind of missed that about him; his impulsivity and fuck it, let's go attitude.”

“We have today and tomorrow to get him to say something, if you're that sure. Other than that, I don't know when’s the next time you’ll see each other.”

“There's always the chance he'd come crawling to my dorm,” you joked.

“I wouldn't put it past him,” said Aemond. “I see the way he looks at you, when he thinks no one can see him. He doesn't look at Cassandra that way at all.”

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Aemond.”

As with most family gatherings, Alicent and Criston convinced everyone to step outside for the day and relax completely unplugged. No phones.

“This is nice,” Helaena said as she spread out on the picnic blanket. “The food was wonderful, too.” She rested her hands on her stomach.

You laid down next to Helaena and looked up at the clouds. Aemond joined you two soon, and together you looked up at the clouds. This was something you’d do together when you were children and it was nice to revisit it. Various clouds made up various animals. It brought you a sense of peace, a good reprieve from the last twenty four hours.

A few feet away sat Aegon and Cassandra. They were complaining about not having their phones.

“I don’t understand the point of ‘unplugging’ when we’re just going to go back to the house and plug right in again. It’s stupid,” Cassandra said as she rolled her eyes.

“Eh, it’s my mother’s way to get us all to bond or something,” replied Aegon.

Cassandra huffed. “There’s nothing to do out here.”

“If you got your heads out of your phones and looked up every now and then you would see that there’s not nothing!” Helaena called to them.

“Says the bug girl!” Cassandra called back.

You turned your head to face Healena. “I’ll fight them for you, even Aegon.”

Helaena shrugged. “No worries, I am a bug girl and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” She glanced at Aegon and Cassandra. “They’re not even holding hands. Are they even trying”

“Aemond and I aren’t holding hands,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but you two naturally kind of meld together.”

“I’m not sure I like that.”

“It just means you’re compatible.”

You scrunched your nose. “Look, as much as I love Aemond, I can’t see myself with him. At all.”

“That’s fair.”

“Wow, way to make me feel great,” drawled Aemond.

Helaena jumped at his voice. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I was resting perfectly fine until you made a comment about how me and my best friend here would be compatible as a couple. That’s too weird.”

“And yet you two are playing the part perfectly.”

“Hel, whose side are you on?” you asked exasperatedly.

“Just playing devil’s advocate,” she smirked.

As your two friends settled back into their relaxing state, you looked over and saw Aegon mumble something to Cassandra that caused her to roll her eyes. Cassandra had a sly smile dance across her face briefly before grabbing Aegon by the back of his neck and pulling him into a searing kiss. He melted into the kiss and brought Cassandra closer to him. His hands wandered over her hips and came close to her ass. You could see him smile in the kiss and it made you want to throw up. 

Looking at your friends you mumbled, “I think I’m going to go inside now.”

Aemond reached a hand out to stop you but you shrugged him off and made your way back inside. Wandering, you found yourself in Aemond’s room. At least there you could cry with the safety of no one finding you. At least you hoped no one would find you. You knew Aemond and Helaena weren’t too far behind you, both of them pissed at Aegon for making you upset again. A constant in your life, it seemed. It was Aegon that hurt you. Always Aegon. But it was also always Aegon who made you happy. Always Aegon who would make you laugh. It was only in the last few years that he has been hurting you.

Sitting on Aemond’s bed, you hugged yourself tight and shut your eyes. Seeing him kiss Cassandra instantly brought you to the dreaded party night; the night he abandoned you. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you let out a muffled sob. It was one thing to hear about them being engaged, another to think it to be fake, and then it being completely something else seeing them make out. The fact that Aegon pulled her closer is what made your heart crack. If Cassandra had only initiated the kiss you would have rolled your eyes. Aegon kissing back was a stab to the heart you were not expecting.

There was a soft knock at the door followed by Helaena’s soft voice. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You didn’t respond. All you could do was let the tears flow.

“Let me go in, we’re supposed to be dating after all, Hel,” you heard Aemond say.

The door creaked open; followed by the sound of soft footsteps. You still refused to open your eyes. The mattress dipped next to you and a hand found its way to yours. Gently, it moved your hand from your mouth down to your lap. A soft kiss was pressed to your forehead and you were soon enveloped in a hug. Again the mattress dipped, but on the other side of you, and another set of arms brought you in for a group hug. You knew without a doubt it was Aemond and Helaena.

“I’m sorry,” you said against Aemond’s chest.

“Hey,” someone squeezed you. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. He’s stupid.”

“We all thought it was fake. Hell, he told me it was fake!” Your outburst pushed you away from the group hug. “He lied to me. He fucking lied.”

Helaena tried to reach for you. “You don’t know that.”

“How can you be taking his side? You just saw him eat Cassandra’s face!

“Aemond, say something!” Helaena tried to get him involved.

Aemond didn’t say anything.

Helaena groaned. “You two are so blinded. It was Cassandra who pulled him in for the kiss.”

“Yeah, but he kissed her back,” you pointed out.

“Because he knew you were watching and would get jealous.”

“Well, I’m jealous. Someone should find him and give him a gold star.”

“Gods, you two are so dense,” Helaena threw her hands up. “You need to stop fake dating Aemond and just talk to him!”

“I’ll stop fake dating Aemond when he stops supposedly being fake engaged to Cassandra,” you shot back. You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine. I’m calling an intervention, then.” Helaena crossed over to the door and left, not even bothering to close it.

“Oh, gods,” you groaned.

Aemond patted your back. “It shouldn’t be too bad. You know she wants the best for you and right now Aegon is being difficult and you’re being difficult so she’s trying to make you meet in the middle.”

Helaena popped back in the doorway. “Come on, girl. Just you. Aemond, you can stay here or something, it’s up to you, but you are not part of the intervention.”

“I’m okay with that.” He put up his hands in a mock surrender before giving you one last squeeze before you went with Helaena.

Helaena took your hand and led you to an extra room. Already there was Aegon, sitting on her bed. 

“Here. Neutral ground. The guest room. Both of you are going to talk things out because you’re acting ridiculous,” Helaena said. 

She plopped down on the floor and encouraged you and Aegon to do the same. Aegon mumbled something under his breath about not wanting to sit on the floor but he did so anyway. You, on the other hand, immediately sat down. There was a tension between you and Aegon. So much has been left unsaid that it’s made the relationship between you two muddled. You held his gaze when neither of you said anything.

“One of you has to speak first; I’m not gonna call on you like you’re in a classroom,” Helaena chided.

“Fine, I’ll go first,” you said. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself before you let out a storm of emotions. “Aegon, this is stupid. We shouldn’t need Hel here to be a mediator between us but apparently we do. We had this talk earlier but you hurt me. You hurt me bad. I know we were interrupted by Aemond but then you go around and make out with Cassandra to rub it in? Great, I feel great. Seeing you eat her face made me feel so good about myself and my relationship you. Totally didn’t make me rethink everything and bring back old feelings of abandonment.”

“Cassandra was the one who kissed me. I didn’t start the kiss -” Aegon tried to say.

“But you still kissed her back. I was there, Aegon.”

“We are fake!” he threw his hands in the air. “We aren’t together. The engagement? Fake. The relationship? Fake. Well, it was real and then it was fake but that doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it was real, Aegon. I’ve seen you make out with her before. Still feels like being stabbed, though,” you mumbled the last part to yourself.

“What was that, bestie?” He spat out the name.

“Oh, shut up. Don’t get mad at me when you’re the one who fucking left.”

“You’re the one who didn’t go after me!”

You scoffed. “Okay, so it’s all my fault because I didn’t push through the absolute heartbreak of losing my best friend, and crush, to someone else? My bad. So sorry.”

“If you really liked me you would’ve called me out!”

“And I tried! Before Cassandra even stepped into your life I called you out for treating me differently, to acting differently when you were around different people. But you never took any of it seriously. You just brushed me off, something you’re doing right now.”

Aegon closed his eyes. “Hel, I don’t think you need to be here for this.”

There was no response from her but you heard the opening and closing of the bedroom door.

Aegon brought his hands up to rub his face. “Okay, let’s go,” he said to himself. 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but didn’t say anything.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you did that well,” you commented.

Aegon gave you a look before continuing. “I was stupid when I was younger, we both know that. I didn’t think straight and yeah, I mainly thought with my dick.”

“Your dick sure thought a lot about Cassandra.”

“Yes, it did.” He looked you in the eye. “But I know better now. Cassandra never has been the end all, be all. She’s been fun. That’s all she’s ever been.”

“That’s what you told me at the party but that’s not what I see right now. Right now, I see you engaged to someone you claim has never been serious to you.”

“She hasn’t!”

“Look at it from my perspective, Aegon. Or should I say Aegy since that’s what you’re so lovingly called.”

Aegon flinched at the nickname. 

“All that I know is that you replaced me.”

“I didn’t replace you, I promise. No one could,” Aegon begged. 

He reached out for your hands but you recoiled at his touch.

“How am I supposed to defend myself if you’re constantly denying me?”

“How can I? Because all your actions have proven to me that you don’t care. Maybe you did when we were younger but not anymore. That much is clear.”

Aegon’s voice broke. “I care about you. Please, I do, you have to believe that.”

“Sure.”

He took a deep breath. “Let me prove it to you then.”

Before you knew it, Aegon crashed his lips to yours. You were stunned at first but slowly melted into him. It was over as soon as it started.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes in contentment for a quick second before pushing him away. 

“A kiss? That’s how you prove it to me?”

“Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?”

“But this? Aegon, you’re engaged!”

“I’m not! I’ve been trying to tell you that. It’s all fake, Cassandra is fake. I told her should could be my fake fiance if…”

“If what?”

Aegon didn’t speak.

“Aegon, what did you do?”

“She said she’d be my fake fiance if I’d fuck her.”

“Wouldn’t think you’d mind. You always wanted her,” you laughed mirthlessly.

“That’s the thing, I do mind. I thought I wouldn’t but the whole time I was with her I was thinking about you. You’re the only one I want.”

“I’m sure you’ve discovered this after sleeping with a shit ton of other girls, right?”

“So what? In the end it’s you. It’s always been you.”

You closed your eyes before giving him a chance. “One date. I’ll give you one date.”

A smile spread across Aegon’s face before it turned back into a frown. “Aren’t you dating Aemond?”

“No, he… Aemond got roped into my insecurities and being the good guy that he is, he went all in with it. We’re not dating.”

Aegon smiled. “Good, good - I mean, not good? Maybe good?”

“It’s fine, Aegon.” You smiled back. 

“I guess I should tell everyone I’m not engaged?”

“Yeah, that would probably be a good thing. Your mother is probably already planning.”

Aegon got up to leave but leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. Unlike the first kiss, this one had you blushing.

“I’ll be back,” he promised. 

You laughed. “No need, Aegon. I need to talk to Helaena and Aemond anyway.”

Aegon gave you one last wink then left the room.

[mdhwrites]

In your opinion does "The Owl House" have any re-watch value? Does the story, characters, characterization, writing, etc. hold up over repeated viewings or is the show played out after the first time through the series?

So I want to acknowledge that this is actually an awkward question. Not with how you phrased it or anything just... Period? Because whether something is rewatchable will mostly come down to personal taste and enjoyment. Some people find Horror movies to be great fun to rewatch while others may not see the point because you already know all the scare moments or answers to creeping dread. Some might find action movies exciting to rewatch while others need the novelty of a first rewatch. As such, my answer is very much so is going to be biased by the fact that I ended up not liking the show.

But... I broke essentially on rewatch in a way. A lot of people have shattered on TOH essentially from having to reconcile what it says versus what it does. A lot of this because TOH constantly kicks payoffs down the line and hints at potential it will reach. It is constantly making the journey suffer for the promise of a grand finale. And, well... A lot of people have agreed that the shortening did not force their hand to break multiple themes in the finale, or take Amity's character or a bunch of other things that bloated the series and never got a proper payoff, such as the Collector.

This format of TOH I think is actually what makes it so hard to rewatch unless you are the ultimate fan of it who will notice nothing. S1 is labeled as boring, a complaint I even agree with as someone who mostly likes S1 still. It spends the most time setting up plot lines though in episodes that are a pretty safe seven out of ten, or worse. Amity episodes can escape this problem decently often, being fun in their own right, but that's why the fandom only acts like half, at best, of S1 even exists. Most of it is easily forgotten because it's very forgettable. Not like in a S1 of Amphibia way where it's all so much fun but also so much of it that they can blur and be hard to separate but just in a "I just wasted 20 minutes of my life watching an okay kids cartoon" way. The only thing that helped those episodes not feel that way was this idea that it was building towards something with these characters.

And... After the shock of things like the Lumity Kiss being real, I don't think S2 holds up for being the majority of those payoffs. Amity and Willow? One of the most explicitly kicked cans? Seen interacting on the same side before either addresses the "We're not friends' thing because of Eclipse Lake, so that's pre-shortening and they still didn't decide to address and then address it badly. Luz's magic is wrapped in a plotline she's not a part of and has no real reaction to even. It's just "Oh, we're just making bullshit up now instead of finding glyphs? K." Amity's parents are wrapped up, in the same episode, early S2, in a very similar way where Amity is barely a part of that episode but now her core angst and excuse for being a bad person? Dealt with and out of the way, at least until they randomly decide to try and say Alador TOOOOOTALLY wasn't a bad guy. That he hated Odalia too. Totally doesn't contradict literally everything that came before, something that would be much more sharply noticed on a binge rewatch. Like... It cannot be understated that by the point most plot threads in TOH wrap up, they were introduced and left to rot for so long that half the time, the fandom was starting to get UPSET during the runtime for the lack of any exploration or conclusion. Long hiatuses didn't help but at its core, even when it was running people were wondering when we would get satisfying answers to thing and rarely were they happy about it.

I think this is a core part of why ONLY the shipping community seems to have clung to TOH. That or people who are exploring the show's missed potential with characters like Belos or the Blights. The fandom has had to either commit to the one thing TOH did do well, its shipping (that comes with so many fucking asterisks) and its potential baiting. But the latter also means you have to recognize why it failed in the process of doing your exploration of the work.

So will some people enjoy rewatching it? Of course. There are people who probably like rewatching the AtLA movie though because the die hards are die hards. Do I think from a casual perspective you get much out of rewatching a random episode, let alone binging the series again?

No. I just think disappointment that the main series will leave you, which will eventually no longer be tempered by the reputation of it having been shortened, will only get worse. It is not a tale worth seeing again, so I hope I see you in the next one.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[taranida]

The faces of the Dark Presence

I have written a theory that explains the Bright Presence, obviously, there must be a theory about the Dark one. What do we know about its history, what happened to it after the Clicker “filled its heart with light,” why Taken are so different across the games and what is going on in the second game. Again, I will address the Presences as “it” as well as “she/he” when it suits my needs, obviously, both of them are “it”, for there is no indication that the gender for them is a thing.

Let’s begin from the short introduction to the Dark Presence’s origin and nature. For those who are familiar with the Bright Presence theory, yes, the first part will be similar, since the whole argument was built on the Dark Presence’s dialog in the first place, but with a lot of changes.

Obviously, we have no knowledge about the origin of the Presences and the Dark Place itself, except for it all being in Ahti’s bucket, but we at least have some information to help us understand their nature and what actually hides beneath the waves of Cauldron Lake.

Randolph, the trailer park manager has this to say about it:

“The Indians thought the lake was a doorway to the underworld.”

Alan in the notes of his poem from Samantha’s shoebox, expands on this from his insider perspective:

"E can't see it. He's view is too narrow, limited. It's not a lake, it's an ocean, darkness before the act of creation, before the Big Bang, darkness upon the face of the deep, upon the face of the waters, before light, before the primeval atom, before the word, before THE POEM. I can be a creator, the creator. It has happened before, and it will happen again, many times."

The Dark Place and its entities are old, tremendously old. The Dark Presence spells it for us in the final confrontation in the first game:

“I’m much older than you. Older than your first work of art.”

She’s talking to Alan, of course, but it is pointless to compare this entity with him, he’s 31-33 (depends on what you ask: the guide that puts his age at 31 in 2010, or the memorial statue, that has his year of birth as 1977), and the Dark Presence was kicking long before his birth, as we know from Thomas’ story and the beliefs of the locals. She’s talking about humanity, about our first primitive work of art. Which puts her at least at around 50 thousand years old, plus this vague “much older than you”, which will put her at an even greater age, depending on what she means by that — where her definition of “you” starts. I mean, we talking hundreds of thousands of years now or even millions; what is evolution for her, really? She finishes with a promise to find someone else to dream her free, so her definition of humanity might do something with the first glimpse of imagination. And that is hardly something that we can establish properly. The Dark Presence might’ve been “born” with the Dark Place, or might’ve been “created” later.

So, what are the Presences? This House of Dreams gives the explanation about the Dark Place as well as its inhabitants:

In the end, he finally understood what he had to do, finally understood the true nature of the dark place that was hidden under the waves of the lake where they lived. The lake was an opening to dark place that was much bigger than the lake itself, in fact, much bigger than the whole universe we live in. He wrote one last poem, his masterpiece, a secret poem, a hidden poem, a poem that’s not among the poems I’ve found in the shoebox. And he took his girlfriend for one last dive. Together they sank down into the depths, far deeper than he had ever dived before. In the dream, I was there, diving with them. And from the depths, something, or some things, surged up to meet them. Things of darkness, but bright things of light as well. The diver explained that these things, or these presences, were forever fighting a war between the forces of light and darkness. A dark presence had taken over his girlfriend, and a bright presence now came to take over him. And he surrendered his body to it, but at the same time, the essence of who he was kept diving deeper, ever deeper, holding the essence of his girlfriend (their spirits? their souls?). The diver (or what was left of him, his true self) spoke the words of his secret poem. The poem described a new world, an island in this sea of darkness, a safe haven, a paradise, a “baby” universe. The nature of the dark place was such that anything dreamed up there, any dream or a work of art, would come true, just as true as anything in our world can be. And the poem came true and the essence of the diver and the essence of his girlfriend escaped from the darkness and disappeared into this new world to live there happily ever after; while their shapes, his now taken over by a bright presence, as his girlfriend’s had been taken over by a dark presence, surged up, through the opening in the lake to our world, to continue their battle there. 

From this, aside from what’s spelled there, we can also take two important things: the Dark Presence might be the “evils of the world”, but the Dark Place is not — it is a home for the bright things of light as well and can create new universes for the sole purpose of someone living there happily, it’s impartial in its nature and grants wishes good and bad; and the Dark Presence is not the only dark creature living there, not even necessarily the biggest one of them.

Let’s expand on this a bit more, so we are on the same page. The Dark Place is, indeed, impartial and not good or evil by its nature, yet it’s not suited for humans:

We are built differently from all other habitants; maybe, we are more complex? Not ideas, but the whole package of ideas we have and create, rights and wrongs, emotions and perceptions, that’s why humans can dream anything in the Dark Place and the Dark Place will deliver. Different characters, who ended up in the Dark Place, show different ways humans can exist there: some make rules and hoops for themselves; some excitedly explore and observe; some just exist there, making maps and humming songs; some ascend and manage to make the Dark Place do their bidding to mislead and help someone else in ascension.

And the creatures there are not limited to the two Presences and their minions.

It even has a fauna! I know it’s irrelevant, but curious nonetheless:

Mr. Scratch also talks about the populace of the Dark Place and their goals (from his side, of course):

“And there’s so much darkness out there. It goes deep, and the thing that live in it are vast. Big bastards! They don’t mind getting a little bit of elbow room. All that chaos and madness, it doesn’t really do that much down there. It’s like pouring a glass of water into the ocean, right? But up here… Yeah, you can really make an impact. All they need is someone to bring them all the way though.”

Alan through Zane’s notes in the cabin expands on it further:

“Anything outside of writing is a struggle. I feel ill. I managed to make my way downstairs. There’s a shoebox filled with books and papers by Thomas Zane. It’s very hard to focus but I managed to read some of it. He’s a poet and a good one. He writes of muses and creators, summoning fabulous things from a magic lake, using its power to shape the world, of a realm of gods and dreams, and demons, dark things that wait for a chance to slip through, wearing the flesh of men as disguise. Zane writes about himself, his girlfriend being taken over by a Dark Presence, about growing scared of the lake. Zane believes it’s a mirror to the gaping void of darkness above, where some Lovecraftian presence lurks. I crawled back upstairs. I’ll borrow these things for my story. They ring true. They fit.”

Alright, as I believe, the shoebox trick was added into Zane’s story by Alan, and also the whole “writing Thomas and Barbara out of reality” was him as well, but it doesn’t mean that all the contents were written by Alan; after all, in This House of Dreams we have two sets of poems — one by Thomas and another by Alan. It also fits into the Bright Presence’s story he showed Samantha, his own words in-game and what Mr. Scratch tells us about the Dark Place. So, I will count this information as the truth Alan borrowed, not as something borrowed becoming the truth. Although, it’s really exhausting — separating what Alan wrote into reality and what was the reality before Alan started to tinker with it.

Now we have a bit of an understanding of what the Presences are, where did they come from and what do they want. Let’s summarise: they are fighting an eternal war of light versus dark in the enormous, if not infinite, realm that has an opening into our world through Caldron Lake (among other places). They are insanely old and are not against taking humans faces to surge up. They are also drawn to our world, might be because of human’s ability to create something from nothing with just dreams or works of art; but most likely because the Dark Place is seen as a prison by them (the latter is also hinted at in the Dark Presence’s promise to find some who will dream her free; and in the Bright Presence’s acknowledgement, that he wasn’t able to find a way to leave the Dark Place for good; Mr. Scratch’s words about bringing “the big bastards” up here to make an impact). Although, the darkness and its minions are much more proactive when it comes to “find someone to dream them free”, as we see with the Dark Presence, Thomas’ story and Mr. Scratch. When both Presences in the bodies of Thomas and Barbara got out of the lake someone or something did put them back; the boys of OGoA (just a wild guess, there is only one thing that can tie them up to events of 1970 — the name of their first album, according to the now-dead site, was “The Memory of the Slaughter” and the release date is 1971)? The whole “we have bodies now, hell yeah” thing ended as they exhausted the freeing power of having flesh, but had no art, no story to sustain them being out of the Dark Place? Maybe this freeing power was exhausted in their clashing with no winner and they both retreated back. However it happened, back into the lake they went.

After that the story of the Dark Presence is pretty eventful:

We have her fighting with the boys of OGoA in 1976 and 1978, and them also keeping her always near. As Odin and Tor tell us:

“She’s been using you, boy. And you let her. You went and opened the door for her, didn’t you?” “Now now, it was already open a crack. And whose fault is that? We’re morally corrupt, disease-ridden, old, and stupid.” “Doesn’t mean he had to open it all the way, goddammit!” “Ahh, pfah.” “So tired...built the farm close to the lake. A place of power.” “We had parties there, man. You...you should go there and have a party.”

And, taking Cynthia’s words, we can assume, they weren’t the only ones:

“I have been preparing for these times. The dark tides. You have found my caches, haven’t you? You can see the signs? Very few people can. […] We have both been touched by the darkness, young man. He saved us both with light. But the darkness stays with you, leaves a stain.”

This is an excerpt from The Alan Wake Files, from the “Bright Falls: A History” book:

“It is unknown whether these strange lights are related to the more recent rumors of illuminated messages found in the nooks and crannies around Bright Falls. None have ever been photographed, but multiple reports from disparate sources certainly point to a trend. Local law enforcement seemed less enthusiastic about these reports. “We’ve never caught anybody at it,” said our same anonymous source, “but you can bet that if we do, we’ll give these kids a little talking to. We’ve got our eye out for any kind of mischief.” A survey of local teens produced blanket denials of vandalism, along with several shaky reports of sightings. “There were messages,” said one young woman. “I haven’t seen them myself, but my boyfriend’s cousin did and so has one of my sister’s friends. All different messages, too. Strange things, like, ‘Walk in Light’ and these odd symbols and arrows. Stuff like that.” Despite the lack of photographic evidence, a few artists’ renderings of the strange messages have been recreated with the assistance of the alleged witnesses. A common thread that gives the story some credibility is that all witnesses have described the symbol of a torch alongside the bizarre messages.”

And the illustration for this bit is this:

So, there were more people touched by darkness to have the ability to see Cynthia’s magic paint. Which is to be expected, as I noted, the Dark Presence is very proactive when it comes to interacting with humans.

Now, in the second game we have a peculiar detail: the newspapers from 2010, reporting on the “Chaos at Cauldron Lake” dated 18th July:

It might be nothing, but it strangely matches how the Dark Presence was using Taken before Thomas wrote Barbara back. And the Bright Falls mini-series, where the protagonist, Jake, is becoming Taken in the few days he spends in the town. So, the question here: how comes we have this manuscript?

Loops, of course! The way the Dark Presence is in the first game is the result of Alan writing and rewriting reality to make the story into what we see: he doesn’t arrive by car at night in the driver seat, with Alice as a passenger, as it was in the Bright Falls mini-series, and there are no Taken, because he retroactively wrote the Dark Presence being asleep before he showed up. This way he can weaken her and give himself a fighting chance.

Now let’s take a look at the event of the first game. In the “missing” week the Dark Presence is being the editor for Alan, making him write her free, using Alice as bait. But as much as Alan claims:

“But it seems I have an imaginary editor to help me. She’s an old woman in a funeral dress. I call her Barbara Jagger. She’s very strict. I’m writing faster and faster. My manuscript is being heavily revised. The edits are getting very aggressive and each day there’s less of me and more of her.”

She doesn’t notice when Alan starts to write himself into the story or summoning the Bright Presence to set him free. The Dark Presence doesn’t have the same intelligence as we do, doesn’t have much imagination, thinks differently. Her power grows in the story? Good. Writer does something else? No matter, her power grows in the story anyway. She’s tunnel-visioning her freedom or doesn’t understand where the creative process necessities end and Alan’s plotting starts. The Dark Presence even allows him to write manuscripts about her weaknesses and set-backs.

But let’s be fair, for the Dark Presence Alan might be the first to pull this off. We know only about how Thomas and the boys fought her and it’s nothing like with Alan, whom she held hostage. Her experience with humans and this kind of trickery can be very limited; and knowledge is power.

For the rest of the game she’s bound by the story and acts true to herself, but always loses. Because it was written. The Dark Presence is controlled by the power of the Dark Place that makes Alan’s writing into reality. Basically, she’s controlled by Alan.

At the end, when Alan jumps into the lake there is a brief moment, I believe, that was not necessarily written, but controlled by the dreaming and the power of the Clicker. In the New York flat and when the Bright Presence gave instruction of “fill its heart with light”, as well as the appearance of Mr. Scratch. The last one is a wild card; I can’t say for sure if he’s the Barbara’s Dark Presence’s minion or an agent of another dark being. He might as well be the Barbara’s Dark Presence’s yet another desperate attempt to stop Alan, and what we learn about him in AWAN is written by Alan himself, because, in fact, he has no idea of Mr. Scratch’s goals, but needs the grandiose one to make him the herald of darkness. And what herald of darkness he’d make if he wouldn’t be set on bringing the darkness into the world and just, you know, chill, killing right and left to his own enjoyment and harass Alan in the Dark Place?

But I digress. Returning to the ending of the game: judging by the text we need to burn with light, Alan is projecting himself to find the cabin, while he already is in the cabin, writing this journey. Ideas swirling around: phones, birds, shopping cards, but also dark ideas of Alice leaving him or them becoming like Barbara and Thomas. Alan pushes forward and there she stands: the Dark Presence, trapped in her own place of power, unable to even run or put up a fight. She says her last words:

“Now you will never get her back. I’m much older that you. Older than your first work of art. I will find a new face to wear. Someone else to dream me free.”

Then lets Alan insert the Clicker into her chest and just dies.

Well, “dies” is a very strong word for what happened; the Dark Presence as we knew her in the first game is no more, but the power and lingering goals, the essence of the entity, if you will, remain — in Alan. There are many clues. In The Signal DLC’s TV Alan says:

“The darkness wasn’t so bad. It was in him. he felt it. He knew the voice spoke the truth.”

And when we destroy his TVs with light, he screams “it burns!” and then, at the very end — “too loud. Too loud! I can’t think! It’s in my brain!” In The Writer DLC Alan-in-the-cabin keeps acting as the Dark Presence: sending Taken after his rational part, making Darknados and all those lovely things that launch themselves at you. The argument might be made that Alan just uses what he remembers, and it would be more plausible at the time of the DLCs. But, luckily, we have the second game.

But before we talk about it, we need to bring AW1 and AWAN together, because there we have two entities from the Dark Place, who have at least some agency in the constrains of the story, and their MO has similarities. The Taken are, maybe varying with Mr. Scratch’s creations being much more diverse, but have common things: they are shielded with darkness all over and, when killed, they dissipate in bright sparks. In AWAN we also have different, improved birds, the spiders are mostly not directly controlled by Mr. Scratch himself and good old poltergeists.

We have none of that in the second game. The rules are completely changed and Alan’s face is the face of the Dark Presence, that he’s calling (I’m sure in the loving memory) “Scratch”. Scratch in the second game is not Mr. Scratch from AWAN, they are not the same entity; aside from the obvious differences in their behaviour and demeanour, there is this little thing — Mr. Scratch, sadly, is utterly unalive, dead. He’s no more. So, the Dark Presence is a part of Alan; just like it was in the DLCs for the first game. Scratch is what remained of the Barbara’s Dark Presence, shaped by Alan’s mind — the result of Alan merging with the sheer force of the Dark Presence. His true dark half.

Scratch in the second game creates different Taken, who are not shielded by darkness all over; there are no birds or spiders, but there are wolfs; the poltergeists are abandoned for the walls of darkness with a suggestive “core”, where you need to burn it. And he’s kinda in love with the colour red — taking ideas from Hiss much? The difference in what we face in the first games and the second is stunning.

We also have a brilliant opportunity to look into the mind of the Taken: with Nightingale’s segment and with manuscript pages. In the first game we have a few pages that describe how people were becoming Taken; for all of them it was a horrible experience, for those, touched by darkness as well: we see that Rose is screaming inside in terror as she does what the Barbara’s Dark Presence told her to, same as Serena Valdivia in AWAN — while she flirts with Mr. Scratch, she’s screaming deep inside in horror. The last one of the Taken of, let’s say, first generation, that we see is Nightingale. First, he says that he’s lost and it’s dark, he needs someone to show him something. Then, as we walk him towards the Bookers, he says “please… can you hear me?” and then slowly the voices start to appear. After the first Scratch’s jumpscare, he sobs and starts to hear his own taken-voicelines. What do the Bookers tell about that encounter? “He was acting crazy, shouting weird shit at us”, thinking that he must have been on something. We never hear him shouting, because we are inside of his head, where he’s lost, confused and terrified, the shouts come from the outside, quiet and disturbing, he only breathes in distress. He even sees the Cult of the Tree as the Taken, when in fact, he’s the one with distorted voice and, probably, covered in shadows, not the cultists. For all we know, the Taken of the first generation were not aware of their own actions and suffering inside. What about the ones, that are taken by Scratch? We have few examples, but all of them are quite different from the first games: for Emmett Elwood it is a satisfying experience, for Gail Borrows, even if he knew he was dying, it felt good, he worshiped the darkness and even made a sacrifice to it in blood, Anna was overcame by vertigo, Thornton and Mulligan gave in to their guilt. Cynthia is the only person, whose corruption was violent, but after that?

“Cynthia Weaver smiled. Lost without her lantern? Nonsense. Cynthia felt giddy as a young girl in love. […] She sank into dark water. Into Tom.”

Some of these were edited by Alan, but some — not. Constrained by the story or not, Scratch tends to make Taken differently; even when he rails them up for the fight, they are filled with violent glee. It goes very well with what we see after he makes his story come true.

Let’s talk about what exactly happens when Scratch gets his hands on the Clicker. Bright Falls welcomes Alan with the Deerfest, sunny and happy day, revolving around the “Return” and how good it is. The Dark Presence in the first game wanted to take over the world, too, but, boy, she would probably cringe so hard she wanted twisted and evil things, as Mr. Scratch said about other dark presences, not this eternal celebration of Alan Wake! Even Alan is in awe, claiming this is not what he expected.

But, really, he is so clueless. He treats Scratch as the Barbara’s Dark Presence, but they are different to the core. The Barbara’s Dark Presence was in possession of a body with no soul, the shell of Barbara Jagger, taking from her only this much; Scratch is not only sharing the body with Alan, who is very present and aware (at times), but is entangled with his very being. The Barbara’s Dark Presence had agency and her own goals; Scratch, still being the Dark Presence, has an echo of that, but twisted by Alan, fed on his insecurities, fears and desires. And, most importantly, the Barbara’s Dark Presence needed someone to dream her free; Scratch, being so tightly connected with Alan, can dream himself free just fine: he wrote the first draft of Return after all. And the rules for changing reality are pretty clear:

Scratch is capable of performing a genuine act of creation; something, that was not available to the Barbara’s Dark Presence. “While the god is asleep, the devil rewrites reality” — one of the echoes, that describes exactly what happens with Alan and Scratch in the Dark Place. If Alan is not in the driver’s seat, Scratch takes over, benefiting from this tight connection greatly.

With all this said, Scratch is still the Dark Presence: he has all the powers of the Dark Presence, hunts Alan, can possess other people, create Taken, send Taken from the lake to retrieve the Clicker, turn into a mini Darknado, and wants to take over the world. But he’s sort of the next evolution: the essence of the entity, entirely alien to us, learnt humanity in its own twisted way. Alan notices that Scratch has an insecure need for fame and praise and questions if it was drawn from his own psyche. And it was. More so, the clinginess is from him as well: as Alan is lost without Alice, Scratch is lost without Alan. His lines during the chase in the Wellness Center are that of a puppy:

You are home! We should be one! We belong together! Welcome me back home! We can have this! Happy ending! We are the heart! We are one! Our story! Our ending! Our book! We made this! Everyone loves us! We won! Everything revolves around us! Fame! Worship! Alice!

And in the writer’s room Scratch is gladly jumping into Alan’s head at the first invitation “come home” (welcome me back home).

In the end, the Dark Presence, actually fulfilled its promise: it found a new face to “wear” and someone to dream it free. Only not someone “else”, it was freed from the Dark Place by Alan, yet the freedom came with a cost. I will not dive into the ending of the Final Draft here, but I believe the Dark Presence is still inside Alan, it’s just balanced with the light (or the Bright Presence, hmm?). It’s not a demon anymore, not an entity, Alan puts all the blame for any wrongs — his or not his — onto, it’s an essence, a power, a shadowy flicker in the corner of an eye, not real enough to properly exist, but accepted and merged with Alan too much to fade away completely. Back to the beginning, to the manuscript from 2010.

In the end, it's never just the light you need When balance slays the demon, you'll find peace In the end, it's never just the dark you seek When balance slays the demon, you'll find peace

[justporo]

Twists and turns

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Chapter 9

Astarion and Tav finally get to their first dance. While Tav feels a little like she's going into battle, the vampire can't stop throwing her for a loop - quite literally.

Author's Note: Oh, it really has been long since I updated this, huh? Don't worry I haven't abandoned this story, but I'm still finding a way to balance the excessive urge to write with everything else - and barely sleeping anymore doesn't seem to be the answer, sadly. Anyways, enjoy this part!

Songs: The Vampire Masquerade - Peter Gundry Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: none

Astarion's and Tav's first waltz: Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake Waltz

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER (coming soon)

~~~

With his signature smirk on his lips and his chin lifted up high, the pale elf, whose skin almost looked pearly in the bright and silver moonlight, grabbed your hand firmly while one of his eyebrows twitched in anticipation. He quickly lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.

“Let’s not waste more time then, my sweet”, Astarion practically purred. Then he swiftly joined his fingers with yours and spun you around under his arm before pulling you to his chest again. You giggled and grinned at your loved one: “I love it when you’re being cheesy.”

“I am being perfectly serious! And now, giddyup!”, the vampire responded and swung your arm by your held hands to push you to get going. You just playfully bumped into the vampire and let yourself be led towards the ballroom again.

Passing by the unstopping stream of servants you made your way back through the few rooms on the bottom floor. When you could already see the ballroom getting into view through the suite of rooms and their widely flung open doors, you heard a voice rising above all other noises at the party. Surely it must have been amplified by some magic then.

“…am eternally grateful for the warm and generous welcome, all you wonderful and lovely Baldurians have presented me with in your beautiful city, that – if I dare say so – has so much wonderful potential!” You could hear the crowd erupting into loud applause and even whoops of cheering – alcohol had very obviously been flowing generously, even in the more civilised parts of the event and loosened up even the stiffest of collars. While the host was speaking the orchestra played softly in the background.

But this then must be the elusive host, addressing all his guests. You looked at Astarion as you dragged on his hand to hurry him up – you were actually very curious to see this mysterious man. At least maybe a little closer than when he had made a short appearance at the top of the gallery.

But Astarion had actually even stopped walking. With furrowed brows he was staring intently at the ground. His lips were slightly parted as he obviously tried to desperately concentrate – or remember something? Absent-mindedly he almost let go of your hand.

“Astarion?”, you asked carefully and felt suddenly worried about the sudden change in his mood. The vampire was usually quite whimsical but something in the way his eyes stared at the ground flicking around while a thousand leagues away made you worried.

Meanwhile, the host continued with his appreciative speech, so very obviously sweet-talking his audience to get into their good graces: “Having meticulously prepared this very evening for months,” (you snorted, as if he personally had moved but a finger) “I am so incredibly happy to have you all here for this grand night and my humble entrance” (you snorted again, now almost ripping Astarion out of his stupor with your attitude) “into the society of Baldur’s Gate!” More cheers and whoops from the audience.

You softly squeezed Astarion’s hand. The vampire’s eyes flicked to yours, almost coming back to you. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath and shook his head softly.

The speech yet wasn’t over: “And now, because I don’t want to keep you too awfully long from your indulgences” – a sultry laughter that was immediately taken up by the enchanted crowd while you could nearly feel yourself having to gag – “how about we get to a big dance, so everybody really gets their blood pumping?”

The crowd erupted, cheered and clapped. You almost felt like you were in your favourite tavern again. For that moment, when the bard of the evening tuned in for the crowd’s favourite song. Definitely not like you were at a high society event right this moment. You heard that the orchestra was beginning to prepare for the announced dance. You heard another voice shortly carry over the rumbling and loud chatter that had broken out about everyone finding their desired dance partner and getting ready to show off. A clear female voice that you realised belonged to the elven singer you had seen before in front of the other musicians declared that the next dance would be a waltz.

You threw Astarion another glance, he seemed to have gotten out of his little fluke.

“Are you alright, my love?”, you asked him silently.

He shook his head once more. “Yes, my sweet, it’s nothing, just a random intrusive thought flashing through my mind.”

You blinked.

“Well, as long as the intrusive thought wasn’t ‘let’s murder everyone at this godsdamned party’ and you intended to act upon it… we’re good?”

Astarion slowly lowered his head as he stared at you.

“My love, for how long have we been together now for you to know me better? I’m not a Bhaalspawn, darling, merely a victim to my own carnal lusts and my desires for you, little siren”, he replied sassily. One of his eyebrows lifted up and he smirked lewdly at you.

But you really had gotten to know him very well and saw the telltale hints that he wasn’t entirely genuine. His old defence mechanism of deflecting something with a sultry comment was something he’d very easily transformed into harmless everyday banter (because he loved to fluster you at every given opportunity). But combined with how stiff his upper lip seemed and how the wrinkle between his eyebrows hadn’t fully flattened again you knew that there was something he wasn’t letting you in on.

But unfortunately, you also knew, that it was an absolutely helpless endeavour to push him about such a topic. Especially since you still were very much in public and Astarion hated nothing more than airing out his dirty laundry to other people – unless maybe it was literal dirty laundry (and maybe lingerie at that). But you made a mental note to come back to it later and try to talk it through with him if he was willing to open up.

For the moment you just gave a defeated sigh at his languid comment and eyebrow wiggle.

Then Astarion obviously remembered what his actual intention had been, and he grabbed your hand again and softly dragged you forward to get to the ballroom again. “Now”, he said teasingly while rushing around people swiftly, “are you finally going to dance with me or not, love?”

“Well, since the perfect opportunity just presented itself, why don’t we actually give it a go instead of just talking about it?”, you replied just as teasingly. You knew that you opened up a challenge to him with your words, but you felt excitement rise up in you already.

Dancing at a ball? In a beautiful dress? With your version of a fairytale prince?

The vision made you kind of want to gag a little because it was so against anything you had been your whole life and stood for. But then again deep down you felt giddy happiness about maybe just experiencing this for once in your life. Just one night of kitsch and cheesiness and a fairytale ending?

Although looking at the way Astarion kept eyeing you, sensing your energy, you were sure the night wouldn’t end with something parents would tell their children at bedtime.

You passed by the buffet, then the pyramid of crystal glasses again, before you were nearly at the ballroom again. Couples were already positioning to start dancing while the dancefloor had spontaneously been expanded to almost envelop the whole room. Leaving almost no bystanders for the coming dance.

In passing you grabbed another glass of champagne from a silver tray and downed it in one go: as much as you were excited, you also could feel yourself getting nervous. The thought of dancing with so many other people being able to watch suddenly making you a little anxious.

Astarion just looked at you with round red eyes in surprise but a soft smile played around his lips as you were already getting rid off the empty glass again.

“I keep being surprised by your drinking habits, love, but then I remember what kind of establishments you used to frequent before we knew each other”, the vampire said while scrunching up his nose a little in disgust at you for having drunk that expensive champagne like a cheap shot.

You shook yourself a little when you felt the fizzy alcohol run down your throat and then deliciously warm you from the inside out. Both of you kept walking towards the dancefloor that was still filling up with more eager couples.

“I keep being surprised by how much of a pretentious prick you are sometimes, darling, and then I remember you used to be one of them”, you countered and waved around to signify you meant all the nobles around.

“Ouch”, the pale elf replied but he did actually grin at your quick and witty comeback. The way he could bicker with you being one of his favourite things about you.

While you approached the other couples you moved your head around as if trying to crack your neck and rolled your shoulders a little. You almost felt like…

“You are not going into battle, love”, Astarion remarked dryly watching your shenanigans.

You stared at him with a bit of a grimace: “With that many people around we might as well be. Also…” – you sighed – “I know you taught me, and you did a wonderful job, but… At home no one was around to judge me, really”, you confessed while you stopped at the very edge of what was seemingly deemed the space for dancing.

“What about the night at the tavern, hm?”

“Do you have an idea how drunk I was?”, you asked him in return. Astarion just scoffed.

“Also, there was magic at play!”, you desperately tried to justify yourself.

Astarion cocked his head at you: “Is my love for you not magical enough for you to forget all your worries and fears, darling?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him unblinkingly – not responding to that nonsense in any kind of way. You turned your gaze towards where the orchestra were readying themselves to play for what was probably the big moment of the evening.

“My sweet, are you seriously telling me that you were – as you have pointed out yourself, just about a few minutes ago, not afraid to take on a literal god but you are afraid to dance around some coiffed poodles and drunken imbeciles now?” Astarion’s voice rose up at least on octave as he talked himself into a fit.

Now you felt called out by him and you didn’t like it. You nervously looked over to him again, but the vampire’s face was scrunched up in a grimace looking at you. His brows were furrowed and the wrinkle between them was very steep indeed. Barely the only thing missing was for him to put his hands on his hips and stomp his foot.

Your mouth pressed into a line as you stared back at him – you felt more nervousness as you noticed everyone getting into position.

“Can we just go and get started please?”, you pleaded with Astarion.

But your vampire kept staring you down. His expression changed slowly, and you could almost see the cunning plan form behind his eyes. His gaze became sultry as yours became alarmed.

“Astarion, whatever you are thinking: NO!”

A grin split the vampire’s face: “Oh what, my love? All I’m going to say is when I am done dancing with you every single person in this room will either want to be you or be with you.” His eyebrow twitched and he licked over his bared teeth while he took a step towards you. His gaze was almost predatory. And the intensity on his wickedly beautiful face in that moment almost took your breath away.

“Ready to take on all that competition then, Astarion?”, you answered weakly in an attempt to get back at him for baffling you. He just knowingly lowered his gaze at you – because he knew. There was no competition as long as he was around.

The conductor of the orchestra very fittingly chose this moment to tap his baton against his music stand. Then he lifted his arms and the room’s anticipation rose to a max. Breaths were held, chins lifted up, feet silently shuffled around.

“Let’s just go, please”, you scream-whispered at Astarion as the room had mostly become silent for a second in heated aspiration. You turned away from him and wanted to finally enter the dancefloor while the music started to rise up. Couples started to slowly turn – some immediately and horrendously arhythmic. Maybe you really didn’t need to worry that much.

You only got about one step in, when you felt a firm grip on your wrist.

“Ah ah ah, we don’t rush, my heart!”, Astarion scolded you and dragged you back as you were seriously getting annoyed at him. “I don’t remember formally inviting you to dance with me.”

“Do you need a three-day notice or what?”, you snapped at him and actually did stomp your foot. But the vampire was not to be ruffled as he made you turn to him again at the edge of the dancefloor.

He smirked at you: “Come on, play along, indulge me. Once in a lifetime opportunity.”

You tapped your foot but the vampire’s gaze and grin didn’t falter. You sighed in desperation and motioned him to go on.

The swelling music was filling the whole room, sending goosebumps all over your skin now. You noticed that it was considerably louder now than it had been when you had arrived. Your brimming anxiety and anticipation probably were amplified by it.

You stared at your partner who in a very theatrical manner now put his heels together, incredibly elegantly bowed and dramatically reached out his hand to you.

“My beautiful darling, Tav, would you be ever so gracious as to honour my humble self with your hand, if only for this dance? And let me twirl you around as if you were the princess that I’ve been wooing for months with my eloquent love letters and could only hope to admire from a distance so far?”, he asked and put on his poshest of accents. He almost sounded as if he was reciting poetry although you heard the humours hints in his voice.

Gods, and for as much as you hated all of this and for as much as it wasn’t who you were: you couldn’t help but giggle giddily in this moment – as your admirer had just propositioned to you, how thrilling!

He had gotten to you, you were now fully ready to play along – if only for shits and giggles.

“Oh my love, Astarion, I would love nothing more but to be spun around in your arms and then afterwards keep dreaming about it forevermore”, you replied and put your hand in his in an overly exaggerated motion.

You desperately had to bite your cheek to not start laughing. Astarion shortly moved your offered hand to his lips to press a kiss to them. You could see that he too was barely containing laughter with the terrible histrionics you’d both put on. The way he bit his lip showing off one of his pronounced canines for a moment.

But then he finally rose up from his elegant bow and swiftly spun you under his arm once before he finally led you upon the dancefloor. He lifted your hand up high in his and confidently walked through all the other couples that seemingly were intimidated by your mere presence alone. No one dared to cross your path as Astarion walked you straight to the middle of the dancefloor.

You saw that quite a lot of pairs of eyes were watching you. Probably from the scene you had caused earlier or because you were fashionably late to the waltz. You tried not to think about it.

Once in the dead centre of the dancefloor, Astarion swung you around to face him, grabbed your other hand to lift it up while the other wandered to the small of your back. You planted your other hand softly on his shoulder just as he had taught you.

“Time for another lesson, love”, Astarion said as his ruby eyes twinkled mischievously at you – one of his white curls had fallen playfully onto his forehead too. You raised your eyebrows at him. “Once you start, never stop dancing!”

And then he finally started dancing with you. He effortlessly led you around the dancefloor at breakneck speed. Your skirt was flying around you as you turned and turned.

You were entirely sure that you were looking at your vampire like a deer being snuck upon in the woods. Your heart was racing as you felt both incredibly excited and very nervous still – the rush of the sheer speed you were waltzing around the room with amplifying both.

Astarion’s eyes were solely on you as he held you close and without showing an ounce of effort elegantly made you sweep across the dancefloor. The many lights sparkled in them, making them look like rubies. You could’ve gotten lost in them.

But keeping up with Astarion, even though he was masterfully leading you in this waltz and his arm was firmly holding you, was still taking a lot of your attention. The two of you had practiced quite a lot. And you had learnt the steps and routines quite quickly, but you had been anxious about making a fool out of yourself.

“You’re thinking too much, my heart”, you heard Astarion say softly – despite the loud orchestral music that only seemed to keep swelling. You blinked at him and almost stumbled right then and there because he had taken you off guard.

You didn’t even dare to reply because you were now awfully aware of your feet and about everything that could go wrong. You gulped and felt how your arms got shaky – even the glass of champagne you had right before this couldn’t help you anymore with this. Anxiously your gaze dropped downward to check if your feet where still correctly doing what they were supposed to.

“Ah ah ah”, the vampire scolded you and with a swift movement he lifted his hand from where it had been on your back to raise up your chin again. “What did I tell you, my sweet, chin up, you’re the second most beautiful person in this room.”

Somehow his teasing brought back some of your cool. “How many times do you want to switch up that compliment, dear?”, you spat back and felt the sudden urge to step on his foot again – why was he always so irritating?

Astarion’s face split into an enormous grin as he kept turning with you in his arms. “As much as needed”, he replied, and you saw how one of his eyebrows twitched. “You look so beautiful when you’re annoyed with me, love.”

Oh, the audacity! Trust Astarion to turn a romantic moment into a godsdamned punchline. You stared him down angrily – meanwhile forgetting to struggle with the dancing.

Astarion’s grin kept growing, now even revealing his fangs. He knew exactly what he had done. And you had to be honest with yourself: you were grateful for it. As always, he had figured out just the right buttons to push.

“I hate you”, you simply threw to him, too stubborn to acknowledge how he had gotten you to loosen up. But a smirk was growing on your face now.

For that remark Astarion quickly moved to make you spin under his arm again. You squealed a little, surprised by the sudden twirl you were forced to take. Then you were right back, pressed firmly against the vampire’s chest. He looked at you with mock disappointment, slightly shaking his head and clicking his tongue. All of course while the dance was still going.

“We don’t lie, my heart”, Astarion said with both eyebrows drawn up and cocking his head a little, his tone teasingly condescending.

“Maybe if you were being nice.”

“Am I not being nice right now? Am I not the perfect paradigm of a courteous, gallant gentleman right this very moment, my darling?”, the vampire drawled sarcastically.

“Paradigm of being full of it, is what you are”, you offered him in return.

And he threw you for another unplanned and uncalled for spin under his arm.

“STOP IT”, you whisper-screamed at your vampire and struggled to not fall while also conveying your anger at him. Astarion just laughed at you. But he quickly went back to just genuinely smiling at you, admiration clear in his eyes.

“Just close your eyes, my heart, enjoy the moment – just let me lead you, you know the steps, love”, he said gingerly after a little while without a note of mocking in it now. You stared at him for a moment longer, asking yourself if he might be meaning to make you fall – but then you followed his suggestion. You trusted him after all – fully.

You only felt unsteady for a short moment. The vampire’s arm around you was holding you securely as you tried to concentrate fully on the sensations surrounding you.

The first thing was probably the music – the way it was filling the room completely and went through your body. You felt how the skirt around you kept flying and how the dancing and the speed of your turns and other couples passing by made for small of gusts of wind.

Your feet now effortlessly found their footing and as you kept swirling around, you felt how the anxiety slowly disappeared. Astarion’s body was so close to yours – reminding you that you had a steady anchor with you, always. You focused on how his hand felt on the small of your back, his other in yours. How the fabric of his fine doublet felt pleasantly under your fingertips.

And joy crept into your heart as you enjoyed being turned around seemingly endlessly in your lover’s arms. Your head fell back, and you felt a smile creep onto your lips. The joy you felt manifesting as some kind of untameable force as you kept feeling the rush of moving at impossible speed. The alcohol you’ve had. The things you’ve experienced. The man holding you.

Just you being here with your soulmate, enjoying this moment.

You opened your eyes then, focusing on nothing really, just letting everything rush by in a blur of colours while you kept focusing on how it felt to be swirled around in Astarion’s arms. Lights flashed by, music was thrumming through your entire body. You were desperately aware of how close you were to the person you loved the most in this world. And you also heard your vampire softly chuckling at you finally just letting loose in the joy of the moment.

It didn’t get any better than this.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque @worryknotdear @wraithmaine

[mapsontheweb]

Cities by Impressiveness of Mountain Backdrop / Rut

by u/Gigitoe

After seeing the recent posts Cities with a better mountain backdrop than LA? ( u/odi3luck ) and This is a response to the LA mountain backdrop ( u/sam_woke ), I realized that I had the exact tools to answer a particularly niche but interesting question:

How do we quantify how impressive a city's mountain backdrop is?

To answer this question, we use rut, an indicator I developed back in the days to quantify how sharply or impressively the surroundings of a location rise above the location. (my research paper if you're interested)

Roughly speaking, rut works as follows:

The higher the mountains rise above a city, the more impressive they are, and the higher the rut.

The steeper the mountains rise above a city, the more impressive they are, and the higher the rut.

In the map shown, I measured the rut of every city with a population of over 100,000. Here's some cities in each tier and their corresponding rut values:

S tier - rut > 500 m (world-class, would visit for mountain views alone) -

Pokhara, Nepal (1358 m) | Chamonix, France (1336 m) [not on map; population too low] | Zermatt, Switzerland (904 m) [not on map] | Yosemite Valley, CA (617 m) [not on map] | Innsbruck, Austria (584 m)

A tier - rut between 200 to 500 m (impressive, but probably wouldn't visit just for mountain views)

Kathmandu, Nepal (482 m) | Almaty, Kazakhstan (478 m) | Santiago, Chile (469 m) | Provo, UT (429 m) | Tehran, Iran (349 m) | Lhasa, Tibet (325 m) | Monterrey, Mexico (268 m) | Tacoma, WA (245 m) | Kabul, Afghanistan (232 m)

B tier - rut between 100 and 200 m (mountains in close proximity, or big mountains further away)

Salt Lake City, UT (180 m) | Reno, NV (151 m) | Tucson, AZ (141 m) | Seattle, WA (137 m) | Vancouver, Canada (136 m) | Los Angeles, CA (117 m) | Milan, Italy (100 m)

C tier (glorified hills nearby, or distant mountains, or very distant big mountains) - rut between 25 and 100 m

Denver, CO (99 m; if only it had one more meter) | Tokyo, Japan (94 m) | Hong Kong (75 m) | Seoul, Korea (56 m) | Rome, Italy (48 m) | Knoxville, TN (39 m) | Beijing, China (37 m) | Sacramento, CA (30 m)

D tier (hills nearby, or glorified hills in the distance, or very distant mountains) - rut between 10 and 25 m

Istanbul, Turkey (24 m) | Jeddah, Saudi Arabia (23 m) | San Francisco, CA (22 m) | Quebec, Canada (17 m) | Mumbai, India (15 m) | Brisbane, Australia (12 m) | Pittsburgh, PA (10 m)

F tier (flat tier) - rut between 0 and 10 m

Syracuse, NY (7.4 m) | Birmingham, AL (5.2 m) | Dubai, UAE (5.0 m) | Columbus, OH (3.2 m) | Washington, DC (2.6 m) | Shanghai, China (2.4) | Paris, France (2.1 m) | London, UK (1.6 m) | New York City (0.7 m) | Chicago, IL (0.4 m)

So to answer the question, what cities have a better mountain backdrop than Los Angeles? Quite a lot... quite a lot.

Here's the data spreadsheet that was used to generate this map!

Edits: switched Vancouver to downtown measurement, added more cities, switched to steepness explanation instead of proximity explanation.

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Note: rut measurements only consider rise above surroundings (relative height differences and steepness). They do not consider absolute elevation, nor the "aesthetics" of a mountain, nor visibility (or lack thereof) due to weather or smog.

This visualization was made possible with Google Earth Engine, MERIT DEM, and GeoNames.

If you like rut, you'll probably like its older brother jut even more. Jut is an indicator of  how impressive, spectacular, or badass a mountain is—considering both its height above surroundings and steepness. If you want to find the most impressive mountains near you or worldwide, you may find the link above to be useful.

Let us know if you have any questions or comments—I'm happy to address them!

[curlsabroad]

For those who do not want what Project 2025 is selling, I am trying to brainstorm a list of to-dos:

Stockpile hormonal therapies and birth control.

Decide if you want to risk having kids.

Make a will.

Make sure you have legal documentation that shows you have a right to make medical decisions for your same sex partners, adopted kids, etc.

Try to create a physical mailing list of queer folk you know, as in addresses. Make sure you write it down in an address book and make sure it is circumspect.

Remove online information that could be used against you if laws become more restrictive, such as anything about planning an abortion.

If you have art that is "objectionable," have a plan for storage that protects a physical copy of it.

Visit the national parks.

Go to the coastline and view it, remember it.

Look into food safety practices.

Consider doing some homesteading projects like quail or chickens, vegetable and herb garden, safe canning.

Try to find a co-op or small farm that you can buy into and buy local.

Buy a mask that can filter out small particulates. Look for ones that can stand up to serious air pollution.

If you are considering a divorce, consider faster. You may only have a few months to be able to get a no-fault divorce.

Make sure you have access to your own private accounts with money. Maybe have a stash of cash somewhere.

If you are in an abusive relationship, please consider using the resources that currently exist to help you.

Get into filtered water.

Swim in the lakes and go fishing.

Go your public institutions.

Try to make any major purchases of goods sourced from China before January to avoid tariffs.

Get on your local committees.

Visit your library.

Save analog media like CDs and such.

Apply for all the grants and resources you can, right now.

If you are on the Affordable Act insurance, look into any jobs or assistance that could get you reasonable private healthcare.

Cut back on unnecessary purchases and budget wisely.

Look into homeschooling resources that are not overly religious.

Consider buying banned books and storing them in a private location.

Plant as many native trees and plants as you can, wherever you can.

Invest some money in the stock market.

Research your local laws.

Research how to protest safely and don't leave said research on your phone.

Don't take your phone to a protest. Buy a burner or get an old Nokia.

Learn how to fix things in your home.

Join a union or start a union.

Look into jobs that would enable you to move abroad.

Finish any degrees as soon as possible.

Research international colleges.

Prepare yourself for how to deal with hate-crimes and aggression.

Take self defense classes.

Get gun safety training.

Take first aid courses.

Have a stockpile of medicine, food, and water in case of hazardous weather.

Weather-proof your home.

Plan for high temperatures. PLAN FOR DROUGHTS. Plan for wildfires. Plan for smog.

Learn techniques used in dry climates to maximize water retention in soil.

[visit-new-york]

Meadow near 91st and Central Park West

Meadow near 91st and Central Park West

Central Park West, often abbreviated as CPW, is a prominent and prestigious avenue located along the western edge of Central Park in Manhattan, New York City. It is one of the city's most iconic and sought-after residential addresses, known for its historical significance, architectural grandeur, and cultural importance. Here are some key details about Central Park West:

Location: Central Park West runs parallel to Central Park, starting at 59th Street in the south and extending to 110th Street (also known as Cathedral Parkway) in the north. It forms the western boundary of Central Park and offers stunning views of the park's landscape.

Historical Significance: Central Park West is lined with a diverse array of architectural styles and historic buildings, many of which date back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It is often considered a showcase of New York City's architectural history.

Architectural Diversity: Along Central Park West, you'll find a mix of architectural styles, including Beaux-Arts, Renaissance Revival, Art Deco, and more. Notable buildings include The Dakota, The San Remo, The Eldorado, and The Beresford, all of which are famous for their architectural splendor and the notable residents who have called them home.

Cultural Institutions: Central Park West is home to several renowned cultural institutions, including the American Museum of Natural History, one of the largest and most prestigious natural history museums in the world. The Museum of Arts and Design (MAD) and the New-York Historical Society are also located along this avenue.

Residential Prestige: Central Park West has long been associated with luxury living. The buildings along this avenue often feature spacious apartments with park views, elegant pre-war details, and a high level of service. Many notable individuals, including celebrities and business moguls, have chosen to reside in this area.

Transportation: Central Park West is well-connected to the rest of Manhattan via public transportation. It is served by several subway lines, including the A, B, C, D, and 1 trains, making it relatively easy to access other parts of the city.

Scenic Beauty: Residents and visitors of Central Park West enjoy breathtaking views of Central Park, with its lush greenery, serene lakes, and iconic landmarks. The proximity to the park provides a sense of tranquility and natural beauty amidst the bustling city.

Cultural and Entertainment Events: Due to its proximity to Central Park and its cultural institutions, Central Park West is often a focal point for cultural and entertainment events, including parades, concerts, and film screenings.

Real Estate: Real estate along Central Park West is highly sought after and can command some of the highest prices in the city. The area is known for its co-op and condominium buildings, each with its own unique character and charm.

Historic Preservation: Many of the buildings along Central Park West are designated as New York City landmarks or are part of historic districts, ensuring their preservation and protection. This commitment to preserving the architectural heritage of the avenue contributes to its enduring charm.

Cultural Impact: Central Park West has been featured prominently in literature, film, and television, further cementing its status as an iconic New York City location. The Dakota, in particular, gained worldwide fame as the residence of John Lennon and Yoko Ono and was the site of Lennon's tragic shooting in 1980.

Parks and Recreation: In addition to Central Park itself, the avenue offers access to several smaller parks and green spaces, making it a desirable place for residents who value outdoor activities and leisure.

Educational Institutions: Central Park West is also home to some educational institutions, including the Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts, renowned for its performing arts programs.

Shopping and Dining: The avenue features a mix of upscale shops, restaurants, and cafes, offering residents and visitors a range of dining and shopping options within walking distance.

Central Park West Parades: Central Park West is a popular route for parades and processions in New York City. One of the most famous parades is the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which passes through this avenue on its way to Herald Square.

Transportation Hub: Central Park West provides convenient access to various transportation options, making it easy for residents to explore other parts of Manhattan and beyond. It's also a popular location for taxi and rideshare pick-ups.

Community and Neighborhood: The avenue is surrounded by vibrant neighborhoods, including the Upper West Side and Morningside Heights. These neighborhoods offer a mix of cultural attractions, dining, and shopping options that enhance the quality of life for those living on or near Central Park West.

In summary, Central Park West is a quintessential New York City avenue known for its historical significance, architectural beauty, cultural institutions, and luxurious residential offerings. It provides residents and visitors with a unique blend of urban living and access to the natural beauty and cultural richness of Central Park.

Central Park West remains a symbol of New York City's cultural and architectural richness, offering a blend of history, luxury, and natural beauty. Whether you're strolling along the avenue, enjoying the views of Central Park, or exploring the cultural institutions and dining options, Central Park West provides a unique and enriching experience in the heart of Manhattan.