#especially now that i've spilled the details

[alwerakoo]

'when I'm nothing new'

ROTTMNT Leonardo & everyone written for @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast, as part of @tmnt-secret-santa-2024 PROMPT: Getting older

AO3

A/N: I had so much fun working on this fic! Couldn't wait to share it with everyone. Happy holidays! --

There are better things he could spend his birthday doing, Leo supposes.

Like going home and actually attending the ''surprise'' party his brothers are definitely throwing him, judging by how shifty Donnie has been acting the whole week. He's never been a good lair, and he's even worse at keeping secrets – especially from Leo.

But no one said anything to him in the morning, only exchanging knowing glances, and he quickly took that chance to run.

There are places where he goes to wind down, to make his lungs fill with air, his stomach unclench.

And there are places where he goes to occupy his mind with other annoying things, to the point where he can't even remember what made him so upset in the first place. Places like Draxum's apartment.

“That's a check,” Draxum tells him.

“No, it's not,” Leo says on instinct, even before his brain winds up to find the right move.

He moves his bishop, the sudden surge of uncertainty leaving him as soon as it appeared.

Draxum's face shifts into something strange, like he's bitten into a lemon, which Leo now knows means he's trying to hide his amusement.

Draxum is still the only person he actually knows to have ever beaten him in the game, and every time Leo outsmarts him leaves him with a sudden surge of giddiness. He's also the only person willing to play with him on the regular.

He's always been more than good at chess, and it gave him a great sense of pride and probably more than a bit of a god complex. But Draxum never seemed to care about the genuine emotions that spilled out of him sometimes during the game, usually matching his intensity tenfold.

Which is one of the reasons Leo came to him this morning. There were things he never seemed to mind, like Leo's intense emotions, quiet bitterness and secret cynicism, taking everything at face value and never talking about any of it.

It's why he's not expecting him to ask.

It's Draxum he spends the whole morning with, and it's Draxum who first puts the idea in his head.

“Well,” he says, rather sudden. “You're turning twenty-five.”

Leo blinks a little.

It's not like he really expecting Draxum to fully forget, and there might've been a sting of something painful if he did. But it's nice reassurance.

“I am,” he says.

“So, are you planning on doing anything with your life?”

Leo's hand freezes, previously hovering over his queen.

He puts the finger on the piece, feeling the smooth wood under his callused skin.

“What?” He asks.

He can feel his mind ticking away, like a factory machine, trying to unwind every detail of the new conversation.

Draxum's not meeting his eyes, but he usually isn't, so that doesn't really tell him much.

“You're twenty-five, and you haven't done a thing.”

A part of Leo bristles, the part that used to take everything as a personal attack. It was something that made him rather annoying in his early twenties, and borderline unbearable in his teens.

He clenches his jaw, letting himself take a breath as Draxum knocks down his rook.

This is the part that he grew to appreciate over the years – raw and unfiltered honesty. Even, especially if, it makes him feel a little worse about himself. He needs that reality check, sometimes.

“I've done plenty,” he says, simply. “Like save the entire world. And many people.” He raises his head again to look Draxum in the eye. “Including from you, by the way.”

Draxum doesn't seem phased, which makes Leo think he might've practiced this whole conversation before. He hopes he hasn't, because that means there's a real chance of Mikey being involved, and he's already heard enough of his brother's unwanted advice to last a lifetime.

“You haven't done anything that made you happy,” Draxum says, and then leans backwards, like he's been itching to say it the whole morning.

That puts Leo's mind to a stop, for just a moment.

“I like helping people,” he defends, letting some of his old anger slip though.

Draxum moves his queen. It suddenly feels like they're playing two games at once.

“That's not the same.”

“I was happy the world didn't, you know, end.”

He sometimes still feels the weight of that "almost" in his chest and Draxum looks at him like he knows.

“Well,” he finally snaps, his voice harsh and bitter, “did wanting to kill all of humanity made you happy?”

“... No,” Draxum says, and it sounds so honest and raw it punches all the anger out of Leo.

They don't talk for a long moment.

Leo works his jaw, pushing the words in his head over and over again.

He's not wrong, is the thing. There were moments in his life where he felt happier than ever, and they rarely had anything to do with the heavy weight of a "leader" balanced on his shoulders.

He moves his knight (which he keeps calling a "horsey" out loud, only because it annoys Draxum), and says:

“I'm not unhappy.”

“I believe that.” Draxum nods.

“Did Mikey put you up to this?” Leo finally asks.

Draxum's face does a complicated thing.

“No,” he lies.

“Well,” Leo scoffs a little, looking at the board. The conversation made him distracted and he can already feel the corner he was backed into. “Tell him I'm perfectly satisfied with my life as it is.”

“Clearly you're not,” Draxum says, a little harsh. “If you were, you'd be having a birthday party right now.“ He moves a piece. “Check.”

Leo feels like someone drew a line straight through his chest.

Because there was a moment in his life where birthdays stopped feeling like laughter and presents and cake, and started to look a lot like responsibility and expectations, and he's not sure he can ever go back now.

Twenty-five is a big number.

“What I am supposed to do, then?” He asks, desperate.

It's weird, because there's a whole textbook of history between them, and he doesn't think he'll truly ever see Draxum the way Mikey sees him, but he thinks they might be friends now. And isn't that something.

“Whatever you want to,” Draxum answers, simply. “Right?”

Leo watches the board.

Then, he holds out a hand, putting a finger to his king. Slowly, he tilts it down.

“Right.”

***

Later, he comes home, gets his birthday party, and they don't talk about any of it until two weeks later.

***

When he pokes his head through the door, Mikey's sat in his hammock, legs swung over the edge.

He looks up from a sketchbook sprawled over his lap and smiles at Leo.

Leo never really grew into the habit of knocking before walking in, and Mikey was the only one of his brothers that never seemed to really mind.

“Hey, dude,” he greets and Leo walks in, closing the door behind himself.

“We gotta talk.”

Mikey's face falls, just a little. There's a line forming on his forehead that grows more and more pronounced with each year, and reminds Leo of Raph in an almost painful way.

“Okay,” he answers, very slowly. “Do I need to bring out a PowerPoint presentation for this or...?”

Leo can't really find it in himself to smile honestly, so he doesn't.

He shouldn't be angry with him.

Him and Mikey spend an awfully long time fighting in their late teens – both sick on guilt, misdirected anger and too much love. There were many things that changed after the Kraang, but out of everything, Leo regrets this one the most.

He doesn't want to waste more of his life making his little brother think he hates him.

(Even if he did, just for a short while. Mikey saved his life and Leo hated him for it.)

It took years, swallowing down their own hurt and pride, and many, many late night conversations for Leo to feel like he could breathe freely again.

Still, there was some odd comfort in knowing that Mikey would never walk on eggshells around him – laying down even the harshest truth if he didn't see any other way.

Maybe that's why it ruffled Leo so much.

That even after all that, he still couldn't face Leo himself. Not with this, apparently.

Leo sits down on Mikey's bed – the cleanest part of his entire room, probably only because it was so rarely used.

Leo still isn't sure how Mikey deals with an aching back after spending so many nights in his hammock.

“I had a very weird conversation with Draxum the other day,” he says, cutting right to the point.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, leaning against the wall.

Mikey watches him for a moment, very carefully, his eyes bright and wide open.

“Did you?” He finally answers.

“Stop that,” Leo huffs. “I know you talked to him.”

Mikey makes a face.

“He's bad at keeping secrets,” he says, almost like an apology.

He looks back at the sketchbook on his lap, adding a few more lines with the pencil held in his hand. It's not a spiral one, and so he spread the two pages so flat it left a mark on the spine.

“The hell was that about? Since when is he a mail pigeon?”

Mikey doesn't look up, but there's something more genuinely apologetic etched onto his face, some kind of regret. Maybe embarrassment.

“I felt like you wouldn't listen if it came from us,” Mikey says, quietly.

Leo clenches his fingers, holding his thumb until it aches.

“That's not true-”

“Is it?” Mikey cuts him off, harsh.

His face quickly softens; he chews on his cheek.

Leo thinks for a moment.

“So you talked to Donnie and Raph? Is this what we do now? Talk behind each others' backs?”

“That's not-” Mikey holds a hand to his forehead, groaning. “You're doing the thing again.”

Leo stands.

He circles Mikey's room, feeling the anger buzzing under his skin. His bad knee startles in pain and he feels it up to his spine.

“Doing what?”

He doesn't want to argue.

But he hasn't been able to sleep well since his birthday – caught up in his own mind, reflections and what-if's, and he can't help blaming others for it.

Because they're right.

Draxum, Mikey, his whole family, apparently.

There are things, parts of his life he never dared to look too closely at, that they all saw right though. And that scares him to his bones.

“Damn it, Leo.”

Mikey slides to the ground, letting his sketchbook fall to the ground with the outermost carelessness. He steps closer, blocking Leo's way to stand right in front of him.

Over the years, Leo grew taller and taller, towering over most of his family.

Right now, he feels much smaller.

“This thing,” Mikey says, as a way of explanation. “Where you keep acting like we all hate you.”

He reaches out, closing his fingers around Leo's arms, shaking him a little.

It's so unexpected it almost punches a laugh out of him.

He feels like he's running backwards, grabbing onto all the old anger that's left in him instead of letting it go.

His progress is a circle and he's always running backwards.

“I'm worried,” Mikey says, quieter now. “You're-”

“What? Useless? Depressed?”

“Aimless.”

That hits Leo right in the chest.

They don't really go on missions anymore, not like they used to. Donnie called them "retired" and Leo wanted to laugh because it was true. His brothers had lives to throw themselves into, something they carved along the way. Seemingly, Leo missed his cue to do the same.

He was himself, then he threw it all away to be a leader, and now he's too scared to look. Scared he'll find nothing else left.

“You wouldn't get so defensive if you didn't agree,” Mikey says, because he's known him his entire life.

Leo feels like he's been sitting with this for months, like an open wound right in the middle of his chest, and he needed Mikey to force his chin down to finally face the fact that the pain wasn't coming from inside.

“I love you,” his brother says, like the most important part he forgot to add before. “I want you to get your shit together.”

Leo laughs, and Mikey smiles. His face always seems to fall, rather than stretch into a smile, like it wasn't made to do anything else.

“I don't know what to do,” Leo says, honestly.

“You're a smart guy,” Mikey says. “Figure it out, man.”

Leo looks at his face and wonders when he missed the moment where his brother started to look so grown-up.

***

He sits on it for the next week.

Mikey told him to 'figure it out', and he honestly, truly – tries to. But it's only a rather long and tedious call with April, many aimless walks around the Hidden City, and even more conversations with Draxum – that he comes to an idea.

It's something he latches onto from the loose suggestions thrown around him, and holds onto like a drowning man.

There's hesitation there, of course.

He's past the point of admitting his own failure, but the thought of actually picking himself back up scares him. He's grown detached from the idea of throwing himself into the deep water like this, of climbing out of the uncomfortable and cold hole he accidentally dug himself into.

'It'll take years,' a part of him says. 'You'll be thirty before you'll even get anywhere'.

'You'll be thirty anyway,' another, bigger part replies.

Past that, it's not a hard choice. He can't really imagine anything better for himself.

He loves helping people.

There's a part of him that wonders if this too is tied more to his past and how he was raised, rather than his true self. He shuts it down pretty quickly, because it doesn't really matter what finally gets him moving, as long as it does.

He lets himself chew on that thought for another week, like a hard piece of gum he can't quite swallow, before he finally sets his mind to it.

But he knows the difference between making plans in his own mind and actually putting them into practice, especially in his own case.

He needs a final push.

The door to Donnie's room is cold under his knuckles when he knocks, and it only takes his brother a second to answer it:

“If it's not a life-or-death situation, I don't wanna hear it right now.”

Leo rolls his eyes, the sudden urge to be annoying, just because he can, adding confidence to his steps. He pulls at the door, letting it open with a quiet squeak of rust.

“It's always life-or-death with me,” he says.

Donnie stops for a moment to look up from his soldering work, which can already be counted as great success.

If they were younger – fourteen and careless, where death was a thing that will one day reach everyone but them, Donnie would've said: ''And I wish you'd choose that second option more often''.

He doesn't now, because they stopped joking about those kinds of things a long time ago.

“Well, hurry up then,” he scoffs instead. “You're already bringing down the property value.”

Leo shifts in place, suddenly feeling a little smaller.

And from behind Donnie's clear, protective glasses, Leo spots the exact moment his brother squints, brows drawn into a furrow.

“What's wrong?” He asks, because he's never been good at reading people, but he's always been good at reading Leo.

It must be something in him, the things people usually don't pay attention to and that Leo doesn't bother hiding, that Donnie has grown so attune to over the years. A high pitch note that he can only notice when it skips a beat.

“Nothing,” Leo says.

Donnie frowns some more.

“Lair,” he says.

Leo has been called many things in his life. Out of all of them, this might be the truest one.

He sighs, letting his shoulders curl a little in an unusual show of vulnerability.

“I just, uhm.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I need to do some research. Thought you could help?”

Donnie's shoulder's drop, and there's an increasingly panicked look growing on his face, like he's standing on the edge of a drop, leaning in further and further, only now realizing it doesn't seem to end.

Leo doesn't blame him, because the last time he spoke almost those exact words was also the day he first came out. He's been out to his family for ten years now, but that first day has cemented itself as one of the most painfully awkward experiences of his life.

And one of the sweetest, probably.

“It's nothing like that,” he reassures, and Donnie's shoulders loosen with relief.

“Oh, okay.” But quickly there's some new worry in his eyes, something more embarrassed. “I mean, not like- If it was, it's not-”

“Look,” Leo says, sparing him from the awkward, lingering moment.

He walks up to his desk, finally letting go of the leaflet he's been squeezing in his hand and placing it in the middle of the table.

It's covering Donnie's work, which he doesn't really care for, but there's also a slight wave to it now, where the sweat from his palm leaked into the ink. He wipes his hands against his thighs, self-conscious.

Donnie stares at the paper.

He blinks before finally looking up at Leo.

“You're going to med school?”

The words leave his mouth and the air around Leo grows just a little thinner.

He laughs, nervous and without any traces of humor.

“Well, I'm not going yet. It's just- I don't know, I thought about it?”

He rubs his hands together, going back to the old habit of circling the room. He can't tell if his knee hurts, or if he just can't seem to stop clenching his muscles.

Donnie's quiet, carefully tracing the small text with his eyes. He picks the leaflet up to see better.

“Like, obviously I can't do New York Med,” Leo continues, “but there's this college in Hidden City. And it's not like we really have any, uhm, proof of education or anything, but I'm sure Big Mama can pull some strings, right?”

He turns his back on Donnie, too skittish to keep looking at him.

He walks back and forth, eyes trained on his own feet.

“So I just thought- I don't know. It says here you have to pass an exam to even get in, so it's not like that's cheating or anything.”

Donnie has always been the smartest of them, but Leo and his brothers all took to education like ducks to water, as long as it involved anything other than sitting straight in front of a desk for hours.

He doesn't think they'd do well in a normal school, not as kids, but they always seemed to soak knowledge a little faster than April, like tiny-turtle sponges, especially when it could be applied to practical use.

Leo's sure it was part of Draxum's design.

He might not be far behind Yokai his age, but there's still uncertainty curled at the bottom of his chest.

He's uncertain about everything.

“And, like, I probably won't pass it, anyway. But I thought,” he breaths, “maybe-”

“Nardo.”

Leo stops.

He feels his heartbeat in his head, beating fast behind his eyes. He blinks, turning to look at his brother.

Donnie's still holding the leaflet, absentmindedly running his finger along the edge. His face looks calm, almost neutral, but there's a new spark in his eye.

“What's after the exam?”

Leo swallows, clenching his fingers to stop his hands from shaking.

“Then it's five years of school, and then residency.”

“Okay.” Donnie nods. “Do you want me to help you study for that exam?”

It's a long moment when Leo doesn't know what to say.

“You think I can do it?” He asks, finally, his voice quiet.

Donnie looks at him like he's stupid.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Donnie holds out his arm, handing him back the leaflet. His other hand, clenched into a first, taps against his thigh, like there's some new energy in his fingers he can't quite hold in.

He's bleeding happiness, and Leo doesn't know to wrap his mind around all of it.

“You're going to be a doctor,” he says.

“Is this a question?”

Donnie reaches out to squeeze the crook of Leo's elbow; once, twice.

“No. That's a statement.”

***

He's been staring at the envelope for ten minutes now.

It's off-white, closed with an old-timey wax seal, and there's his name on it, written in a neat cursive right at the top.

He runs his thumb over the soft texture.

Him and Donnie spend a few grueling weeks almost living inside the Hidden City's library, with stacks of books piled onto desks in the most inconvenient of ways, and newly developed dust allergies.

Donnie's methods of teaching consisted mostly of borderline bullying, but it was the constant need to prove a point that pushed Leo forward – not that he was going to admit any of it out loud.

He showed up to the exam hall half-drunk on stress, desperately trying to look like someone who hasn't thrown up into a trashcan on his way there.

He found the questions tricky but not hard, which made him double guess everything over and over again, until he was probably the first one to finish, and the last one to leave.

Leaving it all behind was like weight dropping off his heart, and he feels all of it coming back now, settling behind his lunges like an avalanche.

He's bouncing his leg up and down so much his knee starts to ache.

Leo takes a breath, and with one hand – rips the envelope open.

His family's in the living room, huddled around the table for a dinner he's late to, and everyone's heads turn when he walks in.

His heart beats: once, twice, thrice. And in that rhythm, he says:

“I got in.”

***

In his first year, Leo learns a lot of things, only most of which have anything to do with medicine.

Most of his classmates are younger than him, bright with that special kind of annoying you can only be at nineteen, and Leo quickly learns to keep his distance.

His lectures feel long and exhausting, leaving his body aching after hours of sitting, and he's forced to leave the more practical classes to stretch out his bad knee – numb from standing in one place for far too long.

He thinks the faculty might know his family, or at least the reason why he was even able to apply in the first place, because there's a certain look some of his professors give him, that makes something in his stomach turn uneasy.

It's his first steps, and he's already climbing uphill.

He's so caught up in it – in desperately trying to avoid the label of a major weirdo, the constant thought of finals looming of his head, planning out his week to squeeze in as much free time as he can, that it takes him a while to realize he's planning out his week.

He's leaving the house everyday now; there's always a class to attend to, a book to pick up from the library, or something he needs to scream about on some secluded beach in Hawaii until his throat goes hoarse.

He's both more and less tired now. There's some sleep he always seems to be losing, but it doesn't settle in his bones like it used to. It doesn't cling to him like molasses, making him want to curl up on his bed until he can't get up anymore.

(He wonders if it was something other than tiredness keeping him down this whole time.)

His family is looking at him differently now.

Maybe they've been for a while. He just had too much time to dwell on himself to notice it before.

There's something in their smiles now, something hesitant but hopeful, like he's an injured bird they nursed back to health – taking flight again.

He's clumsy and slow, but he's up in the air and there's no going back.

He's moving now.

And that's a start.

***

The first exams hit him hard.

“Come on,” April says, her fingers tapping on the book's cover. “You know this.”

Leo's laying flat on the couch, his fingers locked together on his stomach, and he feels a little like he's at a therapists office.

That is, if therapists were weirdly interested in his bones, rather than feelings. Which might be true for some. Leo has never been to one.

April's sitting on the floor, her back rested against the couch, a heavy textbook spread open on her lap.

“I don't,” Leo huffs.

April seems monumentally more interested in adjusting her leggings than anything he has to say, so he waits till she looks up at him again to roll his eyes.

“You're just panicking,” she says, very matter-of-fact. “Stop winding yourself up.”

It's the kind of tone that used to keep them all in line when they were kids. It still does, to a certain point.

So Leo just wines, picking up a pillow he previously threw aside just to have something to scream into.

When he's finished, April raises an eyebrow at him.

“You're so dramatic.”

“I'm tired.”

Something genuine must've slipped into his tone, because at that, something in her face softens.

She reaches out to squeeze his good knee, before handing him some of his notes back.

“Read over it again.”

Leo studies his own handwriting.

There are so many things, so many things to remember, that he doesn't know what to put his hands into.

“This is so stupid,” he says after a minute.

April's already busy, filing down her nails with careful consideration.

“Welcome to college,” she says, holding out her hand in front of her face. “What shape should I do?”

“Almond,” he responds, automatically. Then: “How did you do this?”

April got her degree a few years back, coming out the other side with bangs under eyes, coffee jitters, and radiating happiness.

“Through sweat and tears,” she says, simply.

“What if I fail this?” He asks.

“What if?”

She doesn't turn to look at him, but raises a brow again, like she knows he's looking at her.

“I'll have to retake it,” Leo says, a little hesitant.

“Ok, you'll do that then.”

There's a kind of certainly in her voice, something stubborn and so sure of itself, Leo almost lets it quiet down the worries that have been rotting him from the inside out.

“And what if I fail again? I'll have to redo the year.”

He sounds even less sure than he'd like to, his voice quiet and mellow.

“You have all the time in the world.”

“What if I fail so much they kick me out?” He finally lets out.

It's a worry that sits heavily in his bones, the fear that he'll slip, and then all of this would've been for nothing.

“Then you'll find something else to do in your sad, little life.” She tilts her head against the couch, sending him an upside-down grin. “You're not winning this game.”

Leo lets out a shaky breath.

His chest squeezes, matching how she touched his knee just moments ago.

He might slip.

He might fail, and he might fall and never want to pick himself back up again.

It won't matter, because as sure as he breaths – there will always be someone there to catch him.

“Okay,” he says instead. “Ask me those questions again.”

April's smile widens.

Leo has a lot of things to learn. But he already knows who he can count on.

***

He feels the years pass faster now.

It might just be that he's getting older, but he feels like it's barely a blink before he's already in his third year.

It gets both harder and easier.

He's been an outsider his whole life, always either too young to understand why the world he lives in would never accept him, and just old enough to feel like he could never be a part of anything else.

But he knows the way people see him. He's cheerful and optimistic when he needs to be, charismatic to his very bones, and it doesn't take all that long for his colleagues to warm up to him.

They talk to him like they believe he should be there, like they see potential in him, and that makes him want to try harder and harder – over and over again.

And before he blinks, it's his birthday again, and there are twenty-eight candles, all awkwardly squeezed onto a cake.

Mikey baked it, and the blue frosting flowers he decorated it with look a little wonky, maybe a little worse than he would've done some years back, but so much better than anything he could've done right after Kraang. It makes Leo smile with all his teeth.

He's so occupied with all of it, with his family's arms around him, the promise of sweet taste on his tongue, loud music drumming away from the speakers – he almost forgets to make a wish.

He hesitates, for just a moment, before blowing out the candles.

More, he thinks. More of this.

A few hours later, he's sitting on a chair; feet aching from dancing and mind numb from beating Draxum in chess three times in a row. He's already on his fourth piece of cake, grateful Mikey never learned how to bake in moderation, when he feels a familiar shadow pass over.

He tilts his head back, meeting Raph's eye.

“Hey, man.”

Raph's finishing his own plate, tossing the leftovers on his plate with a fork.

“Happy birthday,” he says, not for the first time today. “How was school?”

Leo's classes were long and exhausting, made even more grueling with the promise of a warm welcome waiting for him at home.

“Ugh,” he says. “I don't wanna talk about it, it's my birthday party.”

Raph gives him an interesting smile, tilting his head a little.

“Well, okay. Raph just wanted to say...” He hesitates for a moment. “I think it's really cool you're doing it. You're gonna help a lot of people, you know?”

Leo feels his face twitch a little.

“Yeah. I mean, that was always the goal, wasn't it?” He says, and it comes out a little more honest than he intended.

Raph's face twist, like Leo just stepped on his foot but he's too polite to say anything about it.

He's still awkwardly hovering over him, which means he has something more to say. Leo doesn't rush him.

“I wanted to say...” He scrapes his fork over his plate. “I think I was too hard on you when we were younger.”

Leo blinks.

He sits straighter on the chair, turning around to look his brother properly in the eye.

Before the Kraang, him and Raph were rubber bands, high strung and waiting for the other one to finally snap. It was wanting to show each other up, and it was the rush of panic when they realized their wish might come true.

“Thanks. But maybe I needed some of that,” he says.

Leo used to think himself larger than life, like he knew some undeniable, secret truth that all of his family was too blind to see. He wishes he would've felt the cold water they were trying to throw on him before it pulled him under – right into the deep end.

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph says like he doesn't really mean it. “But I just- I was looking at some pictures and I saw some from right after Kraang and... I don't know.”

They took a lot of them during that time, like a desperate rush to never let anything slip through their fingers ever again. Leo thinks his broken bones and bruises that seem full on display on all of them, no matter how hard he was trying to hide them.

He remembers Mikey taking one of them, making him look straight into the camera despite his blackeye. Now, he thinks there was something to that.

Something like: 'despite everything, you're still here'.

Raph shuffles on his feet, his gaze turned down.

“I don't know. You were smaller than I remembered.”

Something in Leo's throat hitches.

He searches his mind for something to say.

“You were smaller than you remember, too.”

Raph's smile turns warm.

Leo knows there are things hidden under those sentences, things they need to talk about sooner than later. But for now, Raph only says:

“I'm really happy you're doing this. I mean, it's awesome,” he laughs a little. “You're awesome.”

Leo looks up at him, and just this once, lets himself grin with all he has.

He's warm, drunk on good food and good company, and when Raph goes to sit down next to him, he reaches out. He puts his arms around his brother's neck, letting his head rest against Raph's shoulder.

He feels when Raph takes a deep breath, then sighs.

The song playing in the background dwindles down, turning into something that makes April and Donnie pick up another fight.

“Hey, you know.” Raph picks up his fork again, playfully tapping it against Leo's snout. “I'm proud of you.”

Leo takes a breath, and when he breaths out, it comes out as a laugh.

“Thanks,” he says, honest and raw. “I'm proud of myself, too.”

*** When he's in his fourth year, his professor asks him what he wants to specialize in, and it's almost like making that first choice all over again.

Except this time, he doesn't hesitate for a moment.

There's confidence in him that he hasn't seen in a long time, and the world feels wide and open, everything on his way pushing him further and further along.

'I'm not unhappy', he told Draxum a long time ago.

'Are you happy now?' he asks himself every day, looking into the mirror.

Every day, the answer he gives feels a little more like the truth.

***

While he waits for the tea to boil, Leo taps his fingers on the counter.

He's been fighting hard to kick back his caffeine addiction, and it might be a battle he's losing, but he's going down with dignity. And a lot of tea.

He's thumbing through his journal, because he's the kind of person who keeps a journal now, absentmindedly memorizing the dates of his finals. It's a lot of work, commitment, and work again, but he's used to feeling busy these days.

He looks up at the sound of familiar footsteps, smiling on instinct. He's smiling a lot less than he used to, but for once – all of them are honest.

“Hey, Pops.”

His dad grumbles, rubbing his hands over his eyes, clearly not awake enough for an actual conversation yet. Leo decides to not hold that against him.

“You want some tea?” He asks instead, not waiting for an answer before reaching up for a mug.

He feels this urge more and more often now. To pass him the remote, to move his chair for him, to bring down the heavy pans he can't quite reach anymore.

He looks a little older every day, and every time Leo spots a new patch of gray fur he wants to bury himself in his arms and never let go.

“What are you doing?” Dad asks, walking up to the counter to watch Leo wash his mug under the sink.

“Tea,” Leo answers. Dad looks at him like it's too early this sort of attitude, which is probably true. He adds: “I gotta bounce by the uni later. I have to give them some papers.”

“What papers?”

Dad takes the mug out of Leo's hands, filling it with tea and hot water himself. He's been doing that more and more often, too, like he has something to prove to them now.

Leo supposes he does.

“Just for next year. We're branching out, so it's a mess all around.”

He often felt like the administration system of his university was a pure mystery to everyone involved.

Dad looks up at him, eyebrows raised a little.

“What are you 'branching out' into?”

Leo hums.

“Pediatrics.” He reaches out, pouring water into his own cup. “They have a good program here. One of my professors said-”

He stops, something on the back of his neck crawling with alarm.

He looks down. Dad's not meeting his eye anymore.

“Pops?” He says, very carefully.

He puts away his mug and his hands hover awkwardly, unsure where to lay.

His dad's hand presses against his mouth, his eyes fixed to the floor, and Leo's body tenses, like he's once again a little kid who just broke a glass – waiting for the shoe to drop.

“I'm-” Dad finally looks up at him again.

His eyes look glossy, and something in Leo staggers, like a seized engine.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Dad shakes his head, stops, then nods, like he's correcting himself.

“Yes, yes, I just-” His shaky breath turns into a laugh.

“Dad.” Leo shifts on his feet, his fingers tapping against his thighs in a very Donnie-like gesture. “Dad, are you about to cry?”

His father laughs, waving his hand almost dismissively, but there are already tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I guess-” He sighs a little. “It just hit me now. You're- You're really doing this.”

Leo blinks.

He frowns, looks around the room like he expects to find any answers there.

“Doing what?”

“Come here.”

Leo's still frowning, but there aren't a lot of things he wouldn't do for his father. He leans down, letting Dad cradle his face in his palms.

Leo's grown so much taller than him, and everyday it hurts, just a little.

“You know, it's funny,” Dad says, very quietly. “I don't remember you growing up.”

Leo swallows.

The ties holding them together are strong, but coated in years and years of history, bitterness, and things they never said out loud.

It's melancholia, it's bitter-sweet, and it's an apology.

Leo raises his hands, covering both of his.

“My boy,” Dad says. “My baby blue.”

I love you too, Leo thinks.

***

The only good thing about his final exam, is that it is the last one he'll ever have to bare.

The whole ordeal feels more a job interview than an oral exam; unimportant inquiries about his future plans and small talk mixed with actual, medical questions. Leo gets the sense they might've been intentionally trying to throw him off, which seems a bit mean, but maybe necessary.

Waiting in the hallway for the examinators to call him back, Leo sinks into his seat, feeling the full weight of all his bones and muscles.

His family's waiting outside, and when he closes his eyes he can almost hear the hum of their nimpo, warm from the inside of his chest.

He thinks he might be nervous. But more so – he's relived.

He thinks that, for the first time, he's not afraid to fall.

This is his best.

Hope is a fragile thing and Leo's holding onto it with everything he has.

They call him back in and he's hovering in the doorway just for a moment too long, until one of the professors looks up at him.

There's a smile edging at the corners of their beak. They raise a hand to beckon Leo closer.

“Come on in, doctor.”

***

Leo can't imagine spending his birthday in any other way.

The night air feels cool and calm on his skin; his head and face warm from dancing and drinking. He's leaning back against the railing; the rooftop of April's new apartment building already familiar enough for Leo to not hesitate before he tilts his head up, balancing on the edge.

“Raphael wanted to eat the last piece of your cake.”

Leo straightens, opening his eyes to look Draxum in the face.

“Tell him to piss off, it's mine.”

“He already ate it.”

Leo's face scrunches up and he huffs.

He doesn't say anything else, but he shifts a little, because Draxum will only stay if he doesn't acknowledge his presence. He's like a cat in that regard.

The man slides next to him, resting his palms on the railing.

“How's work?” He asks, because Leo is now the type of person who's asked about his job.

With real curiosity at that, because while Leo's usual clients are rarely anything other than heartwarming, their parents have been the source of more than a few equally absurd and frustrating stories.

Even with that, he rarely complains about work.

He thinks he's actually good at it, which might be the funniest possible outcome for someone who's only previous experience with children was being one.

He's been told kids find him funny, parents 'charming', and there's a real kind of satisfaction that comes with it.

But working so closely with kids, with their bright smiles, chubby fingers, cute faces and not a single ounce of bitterness in their entire being – made him feel a whole sort of new things. Things he never thought he'd catch himself thinking.

Things that look alarmingly close to white picket fences, piles of small shoes next to the front door and the future.

Why not, he thinks to himself. Why not?

“It was fine. One kid fit an entire Lego piece up his nose.”

“Riveting.”

“You want to play chess with me later,” Leo says.

“I'll be tired.”

“That wasn't a question.”

Draxum huffs, and Leo recognizes it for the laugh it is.

“Leo!” Mikey's standing on his chair, waving at them from the other side of the roof. “Group picture time, get your ass over here!”

And so he does, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

As he tilts his head to squeeze into the frame, he takes a moment to look at his own reflection.

'Are you happy now?', he asks himself.

He hears the answer in his brother's laughter, in the soft music playing in the speakers, in the hum of an airplane passing above them.

He's only a few years past thirty, and there's already a deep ache and sadness etched into his bones – things that wouldn't seem unfit in someone much older.

The limp in his left leg won't ever go away.

But there's something in this, in getting older and older.

He was a dreamer when he was a teenager, and he dreamed of glory, blood rushing in his ears and things greater than his own life.

He's a dreamer now, and he yearns for more of this. More slow mornings, more days where he can't feel the coming cold in his bad knee, more moments where his brothers laugh like they haven't ever forgotten how to.

He's been living with a gun aimed at his head for so long he didn't even feel the cold metal on his skin until it stopped.

Leo tilts his head up, looking into the sky.

And from where he sits – the lights of the airplane almost look like stars.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Me: I have so many fairy tale retellings that I was already planning on working on. It'll be easy to just pick one and finish it before Valentine's Day.

My brain: That's cool!

My brain: But what if

My brain: and hear me out

My brain: What if you came up with an entirely new retelling?

Me:

Me:

Me: I'm listening.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

PROVE IT ───

jackson rippner ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “You think you are possessing me / But I've got my teeth in you.” — ‘Unicorn’, Angela Carter

pairing. jackson rippner x reader

summary. after breaking up with your boyfriend. you meet a handsome stranger at a bar. you tell him your cunt’s better than the girl’s your boyfriend cheated on you with; he tells you to prove it.

warnings. swearing, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, porn with some plot, impact play, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 3.6k

a/n. i seriously doubt i wrote jackson’s character accurately in this so please comment anything i can improve on LOL🙏

It’s not often you spill your entire life story to a stranger at the bar, but this one, this stranger with his watery blue eyes and plush lips, is oddly inviting; charismatic to a fault. It makes you want to give him everything, and absently, in your alcohol riddled mind, you think he’d make a good scammer. 

Or, serial killer, whichever he prefers really.

But it's not entirely his fault; you’re stress drinking, downing too many shots in too little a time frame, and the alcohol’s already hit your system ten-fold. 

You’re there because you’d broken up with your boyfriend the night before. You’d been dating just short of a year. He was required to travel a lot, mostly in Europe, as per his job, and you let him go each time without qualms - love them, let them go, right? 

Wrong. He’d been cheating on you since he went to Copenhagen — four months, now — with a pretty little Dane that wanted to marry. 

You were furious when he told you, of course, it’s fucking insanity for him to marry someone he’s known for four months, but you began seeing all the differences between you and the woman he cheated on you with: she, a perfect homemaker, you, a distressed professional he saw maybe once a month. 

“Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up,” the stranger across from you said softly, breaking you out of your nostalgic stupor and back into reality. “‘cause he’s a right asshole. For cheating on you like that.”

The man had entered the bar hours after you did, housing a simple drink or two and absently watching the softball game on the bar TV, before you drunkenly inched closer to him, desperate to rant your dilemma to just about anyone who’d listen. He bit, and here you were now.  

You peered up at the man, inspecting him. He’s gorgeous, definitely, but you can’t tell if you actually think that, or your foggy, not-been-fucked-for-months mind just wants him to rail you into next week. 

No matter, you thought, downing another shot. It burned the back of your throat sweetly, fire trailing down your insides. “M’not beating myself up,” you protested weakly, “jus’ — m’just… wondering if her cunt was - so much better than mine,” 

He laughed, boisterously, the kind of laugh you hear rumble out from a close friend while you detail every wrongdoing or shameful memory in your life: he’s comfortable right now, as are you.

“Well,” he inched closer, large hand sitting itself on your thigh and slowly inching upwards, “if it bothers you that much, why not prove it? That your pussy’s as good as you think.” 

This wasn’t the first of his attempts to flirt with you: firstly he’d tucked a stray hair away from your face, later he swiped a drop of drink off your lip, then he’d clutched you by the waist, pulling you close to him when someone squeezed past you in the crowded bar. His brisk touch wasn’t unfamiliar by any means, but it did suggest more than the other ones, especially coupled with the lustful words he was purring in your ear. 

Then, there’s a gap in your memory. One too many shots, a stranger toying with the hem of the skirt you donned for the bar, and his sweet voice in your ear was too much for your dizzy head, and the only thing you remember is this: one moment, he’s getting braver, rough fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and the next, you’re pressed against a bathroom stall wall, the handsome stranger’s knee pushing your quivering legs apart. 

You’re trading wet, messy kisses, and his hands are sneakily climbing up your shirt till they reach your chest. There’s a sharp intake of breath from him: “Fuck, sweetheart, no bra? You really were looking for someone to prove you right,” he cooed, touching your breasts needily. 

He’s kneading you artfully, fingers pawing at your flesh like he’s never felt something so soft, so plump. Your back arches as he does this; you’re practically putty in his hands. 

It doesn’t slip past you that you’re being felt up in a bar bathroom by a gorgeous stranger whom you don’t know the name of, but you don’t care. “Please,” you beg, his name coming up completely blank on your tongue, “please.”

“‘Please’ what, honey?” The stranger says huskily, one of his hands moving from your breasts up to your jaw, pushing it to the side to gain access to your neck. “Please kiss me? Finger me? Fuck me?”

You’re too drunk - and fucking horny - to deal with his theatrics, so you whine instead of answering, your weak fingers carding through his brown locks. 

“God,” he says, “How long has it been since you’ve been properly fucked? Just some touching and you’re already too fucking dumb to speak.”

His words make your cheeks burn with shame, but it also makes your core throb. The oh-so sweet stranger who listened to your problems all night telling you you’re just a dumb horny bitch is such a juxtaposition it's got you all hot and bothered. 

“Please,” you beg again, more desperate than before, “I need you.” 

The man let out an incredulous chuckle, head cocking back. “Baby, don’t tell me you like it like that. God, you’re such a fucking whore,” he said, before undoing his belt buckle and fly. 

He had noticed how your legs clenched around his knee, how your breathing got sharper as soon as the words “dumb” and “whore” slipped out of his pretty mouth, how your fingers trailed his back needily, desperate for any kind of touch. 

You bit your lip, watching the stranger through bleary, hooded eyes. He’d pulled his pants down just enough for his boxer shorts to be visible, before he grabbed you by the waist and turned you to press your face against the wall. 

One of his arms then draped across your shoulders, pinning you down and arching your back, hard, making your ass press flush against the large tent in his underwear. You let out a small gasp at the feeling, and you could practically see the smirk curling slyly on his face. 

He can’t be that big, right? It was just your drunk mind, making him feel bigger than you thought through his shorts. Plus, you hadn’t been fucked in over a month — you were probably just not used to it. 

Because, that’d be totally unfair - he’s beautiful, charming, an amazing kisser, and has a huge cock? No fucking way — if he was all that, he’s definitely a secret terrorist, or something. 

However, these days, you’ve learned that you don't have the best intuition. First, with your boyfriend, then again, with the man who just pulled out his thick cock, stroking it gently. 

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed, head straining to look at him behind you. Unconsciously, you shyly closed your legs at the sight of him. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man crooned, his other hand sliding between your legs and spreading them apart once more. “No take backs, honey. You did say you wanted me, did you not?”

The two of you were flush against each other, and you could feel his hard length resting between your legs. Just that, just him between you, already had you trembling in anticipation. 

“Then fuck me already,” you bit back, feigning confidence. In actuality, you were thinking: how was all that supposed to fit? And, of all people, you, who hadn’t been stretched out to fit any cock at all, not since last month, when your boyfriend made his routine visit. You were a loyal girl, alright, and your fingers never went as deep as any cock could.

But the moment for you to reveal your worries passed, and he simpered. “So fucking eager.” 

Then, his large hands smoothed down the swell of your ass, following the curve, before he lifted his hand up and came down on your cheek, making a loud noise reverberate throughout the empty bathroom. 

Your breath caught in your throat, a choked gasp mixed with a tense moan coming out instead, and you flushed. Thank god you were pressed against the cold bathroom stall wall, for it provided a miniscule relief to your burning face. 

He’d spanked you, and you fucking moaned. 

“So you do like it dirty.” he cooed, fingers returning and hooking into the waistband of your panties. 

“I bet,” he said, dragging the thin fabric down extremely slow, “that you didn’t come to the bar tonight to just drink,” he pressed closer against you, your folds now sitting right above his thick length, “you came, with no bra and a slutty skirt on, looking to get fucked senseless, didn’t you?”

He slowly slid in and out against your folds, his cock just barely grazing your clit, and you swore you could have screamed. The way he was teasing you was absolutely delectable and, in the same vein, incredibly torturous. 

“Answer me, honey.” he hummed, free hand rubbing circles on the skin of your hip. 

You let out an exasperated groan. “I - I came here tonight, to - ah!” you squeaked when the fat tip of the man’s cock poked your tight hole. 

“You came here tonight to… what?” He said, nonchalant, as if he wasn’t slowly driving his large dick into you. 

“I came here to…” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground your thoughts, and squarely not think about how mouthwateringly good the handsome strangers cock felt, “to get—“

Then, the loudest keen you’d ever heard tore out of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, when he suddenly shoved all of his length into your soaking cunt. 

He bottomed out with a breathy laugh, watching your knees buckle and your mouth hang wide open. Then, once more, his calloused hand came down on your ass, a large crack sounding out within the bathroom. 

“Shut the fuck up, whore. Someone’ll hear.” The stranger said, as if he hadn’t just made a loud noise spanking you like that. 

But the way he insulted, complemented, mocked and teased all in a few sentences had you shuddering; never in your life did you think such dirty words could make you so wet. 

You barely kept in another whine, waves of pleasure ebbing throughout your body. The burning pain of the spank in combination to how your walls squeezed around his cock had you barely coherent, your face taut with pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over my cock,” he whispered, leaning down for you to hear. As he did so, however, his dick pressed further into you, and another helpless groan rolled off your tongue. 

“But you’re too goddamn loud.” The stranger growled, and the arm of the hand that was pressing you against the wall shifted, now covering your mouth. 

Before you could protest, he slid out, then snapped into you. Immediately, you saw stars, and a muffled mewl slipped past your lips. 

“Jesus christ,” he murmured, “your little fuckhole’s taking me so well.” He began to slide in and out at a fast, rhythmic pace, so fast you could barely comprehend the ecstacy you were feeling. 

“Oh my god,” you barely stuttered out past his large hand. He was pounding in and out of you relentlessly, selfishly, no regard for your moans or helpless whines, merely focussed on thrusting his fat cock into your sweet cunt. 

Then, the both of you heard the bathroom door open, and you froze. The handsome stranger moved quickly, grabbing you by the waist and planting you on his lap as he sat down on the toilet. His other hand, still trained on your mouth, gripped tighter than ever when he felt the groan bubble up from your throat: this new position of you on his lap had his long length pressed right against your cervix.

“Now you really gotta be quiet, honey,” he whispered, pressing his face into your neck. You shut your eyes helplessly, a dejected whimper exiting your mouth. 

“Just be fucking quiet. You don’t want everyone in this bar to know what a dirty slut you are, spreading your legs for a fucking stranger in the bathroom, right?” He said, words foul and like poison, but actions completely stark to it: he was pressing sweet, chaste kisses on your shoulder, laying his head on your back. 

The man in the other stall was taking so fucking long to finish, and, despite the stranger’s words, he began to slowly rut into you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips and help you slide up and down on his cock.

Your eyes widened. “What are- ah, wh— what are you doing?” you said, a stuttered, hesitant moan leaving  your mouth, but you were completely without the motivation to actually stop him: the pleasure you felt earlier had increased immensely in this slower, riskier pace he took on. 

“Shh,” was all you saw him say, as you strained your neck to look at him. He looked the epitome of smug, lips curled, cheeks flushed attractively, strands of hair falling down onto his forehead.

Without his hand to muffle your groans, you muffled them yourself, biting down on your tongue. One hand of yours gripped onto the stranger's thigh to keep your balance, and your other hand sneakily traveled down to your wet, hot mound, fingers beginning to rub at your clit. 

He noticed this, however, hand gripping at your wrist and pulling you back to pin your arm behind you. “Only I get to touch you,” he snarled, “because this fuckin’ pussy’s all mine. Gonna be all mine.”

You let out a shaky exhale at his words, but you found your cunt more flexible than before, the soft slapping of your skin between each other sounding easier, wetter. Jesus, did you really get more turned on by what he’d said?

Finally, the person who had wandered in and entered the stall beside you exited the bathroom entirely, and you belted out a sharp moan with how the stranger swiftly picked you up and pressed you against the wall once more, this time facing him. 

He plunged his big cock into you like nothing before, animalistically, nails digging so hard into your hips you swore he drew blood. His pace was stuttered, desperate, like nothing could distract him from pounding into you, not even a fucking meteor. 

You, on the other hand, were arching, the pleasure taking your body over completely. Your hands carded through his brown hair, tugging when he hit that particularly spongy spot into you. He groaned, a rough and stuttered thing, feeling himself brush against that spot every time. 

Your tight cunt was stretching and contracting around his dick, like you were made with his fat length in mind, and it drove you up the fucking wall: the pain in your hip, the cold linoleum wall, his cock thrusting in and out — it was all so much, and your orgasm began to spill out from under you. It was slow, like water coming out of an overfilled glass.

“You — god, you’re fucking coming, aren’t you,” the stranger said knowingly. Your cunt had gotten tenser, stickier, trying to grip at him like you were afraid he’d never come back to you. 

You nodded rapidly, opting to do so in fear an unintelligible string of groans would come out instead of your words. 

He grinned, and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, allowing his cock deeper access into you. Your toes curled, the new angle like being impaled, his dick easily slipping past your slick folds. 

One of his hands lifted off your hip and trailed across your lower stomach, “Can you feel that, honey? Its my fucking cock, so deep m’gonna shoot my come right in your womb,” he purred, pressing the bulge. 

Both of you were affected, a breathy grunt slipping past his lips, and you a feverish mewl. You couldn’t believe how big he was, large enough for him to be fucking visible on you from the outside. 

Suddenly, you remembered the man’s name: he’d said it, offhand, to the bartender before you dragged him to the bathroom. He asked the bartender to put your drinks on his tab, under the name Jackson. 

You face grew taut, your orgasm suddenly switching from a slow, sneaky drip to a hard smack, right across your face. “Jackson! Jackson, please,” you moaned at last, his name sounding right at home on your tongue. 

“Fuck, honey, you remembered? God, that’s so hot,” He whispered sweetly, then dragged you through your orgasm, thick cock pounding in and out of your throbbing core. 

It was like all the pleasure had steadily built up within your insides, all up into a big ball, then had suddenly burst, flowing throughout your entire body like you weren’t already being fucked relentlessly. 

“Such a - fuck - tight and pretty pussy,” he said, leaning into rest his head against your chest. You were weak, sensitively riding out your high, but you knew Jackson wasn’t quite as close. 

His thrusts began getting sloppier, harsher and focussed merely on feeling your walls against every inch of him. Your head rested beside his own, your eyes practically crossing with the overstimulation. 

Despite your orgasm, your cunt was still soaking, definitely dripping and marking a wet patch on both your skirt and his pants. It made you tremble, thinking of you two tiredly exiting the bathroom, disheveled and having to cover the other up. 

At this point, you didn’t know what kind of filthy fucking noises were exiting your mouth, with Jackson’s grunts and groans covering up your whines completely.

“M’gonna come,” he said a few long moments later, almost inaudible. “Say my name, say who owns this tight fucking pussy.”

“You do! Jackson does!” You exclaimed, his cock ripping in and out of you quicker and more jolted. “Jackson owns this pussy!”

Jackson grinned weakly, and with one final, harried thrust, he let go deep within you. He clenched his jaw, piercing blue eyes shutting tight and losing himself within the warm and wet feeling of your cunt squeezing him for every drop. 

You were so fucking full, and even when Jackson pulled his softening cock out of you — which, was still huge despite its idleness — you felt stuffed to the brim. 

His come dripped down your leg, and he promptly pulled your panties up, patting your worn out cunt as he did so. “You’re taking all my fucking come, so good honey.” he said, pressing a hungry kiss to your neck. “You were right: this cunt’s better than whoever your shit ex cheated on you with.”

“Told you so.” You gazed up at him through heavy-lidded, gleeful eyes. He was an absolute darling sweetheart, it seemed, switching from degradingly fucking you to romantically praising you. “Are you… up for round two?” you said, as he slipped his hand within your own, clasping tightly. You didn’t really mean round two - though, you wouldn’t protest it, especially with his delectable way of fucking you - you actually just wanted to go home with him… see where this relationship could lead you.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask. You’re comin’ home with me tonight,” he saw through you cheekily, pulling you close to him. 

So, you did go home with him, and in the morning you laid beside him in the ruffled white sheets, counting the freckles on his face.

His eyes fluttered open when you shuffled. “Were you watching me?” he said, voice low and sleepy. 

You nodded silently, your hand coming up to pet his skin comfortingly. After a beat passed, you asked the question that was bothering you all morning. “Jackson, you wanted to fuck me first, right?”

He blinked, tense for a moment, before smoothing out his expression. “What?” he opted on saying instead, sounding every bit clueless and entirely convincing.

Not convincing enough for you, however. “Baby, you think I didn’t notice the shots you were calling over and inching toward me? I was drunk, not stupid.”

“Are you saying I took advantage of you?” He said darkly, a side of him otherwise unknown to you ‘till now. 

You raised a judging brow. “No need to be offended. I wanted to see where it was going to go: ‘did the handsome stranger want to fuck me, or did he want to kill me?’.”

He pulled you close to him, his arm snaking around your hips. “So, what are you saying?” he said, pressing a patronizing kiss to your forehead. 

“Hm. Well, I jus’ wanna know if this is a one nightstand.”

“And you don’t care about the - drinks, the “taking advantage” part?”

You let out a laugh. “I was confident, darling; I keep pepper spray and a pocket knife in my purse. Even if you did - which you didn’t - I’d make it out alive.”

Jackson bit his lip, looking up at you. This had meant to be a one night stand, considering the job he had, but you were looking at him so sweetly, so accepting, like you secretly knew what he did for a living and wanted him despite it. 

“Not a one night stand,” he murmured, leaning into your touch. 

You beamed, and, later, when you did find out what he did for a living, you merely cocked your head. Thought about it… outweighed the pros, the cons, (and the fact you were completely right: he was perfect, but also a fucking sociopath), and merely shrugged. 

“Honey, you’ll never do anything to me. Why should I care what you do for a living? Just don’t,” you warned, staring at him like you could and would fucking kill him, “cheat on me.” 

You didn’t have the best intuition. And, as it turned out, a great moral compass, either. 

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hey! I was hoping you could write something for Marc Spector/Fem! Reader (all 3 boys) where the reader unknowingly does something which upsets the boys, and they kinda pull away, but after the reader keeps asking them about it, they spill (Maybe Marc would feel bad about being upset yada yada yada).

Yooooo, my HEART! What are you trying to do to me? (affectionate)

Pull Away

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: PG pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Summary: Headcanons of when there's an unintentional upset with the Moon Boys.

A/N: I've changed this a little, sorry! I hope that's okay, it sort of went and did it's own thing.

There some talk of OCD. I have OCD, and only found out quite recently that people with autism and adhd are a little more likely to develop OCD than someone who doesn’t. (You’re also more likely to develop it if you have other mental illnesses, like depression/anxiety etc.) Obviously, this is just my own little headcanon but the layout of Steven’s flat does remind me of my OCD hoarder tendencies, while Marc’s minimalism makes me think of how when I was a very young adult I tried to ‘cure’ my ‘messiness’ by going so minimal it was like I had nothing. (Spoiler: it not only didn’t work but made me very sad.)

Warnings: Marc being sad and not so good with his feelings, swearing, a little bickering, OCD talk, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 995

I feel like Marc doesn’t like expressing himself very much, especially when it’s a ‘negative’ emotion. 

Which means he’ll bottle it up and self internalise it.

This becomes a problem, because even if you do little things that you have no intention of upsetting him, he won’t tell you when you do them. Which means you’re gonna do them again. And he’ll get upset again. And it’ll just go around and around in a vicious circle. 

So much so that he’ll start getting a bit resentful that you’re still doing it, even though he knows logically there is no way for you to know that it’s upsetting him. 

So the internalsion and beating himself up will turn into him being very low, and quiet and giving you the silent treatment. 

Now, he’s not trying to give you the Silent Treatment ™ as a punishment, he just worries about his own reactions (terrified of ever raising his voice in anger to you, or having any kind of disagreement, let alone argument) so he thinks it’s best if he doesn’t talk, doesn’t interact with you. 

He tends to fade back and let Jake or Steven front most of the time. 

“Where’s Marc? Is he okay?” 

“He’s fine, Love.” “He’s well, Amor.” 

But neither of them really knows, they are just trying to comfort and reassure you because, in all honesty, they don’t know either. 

He’s giving them the silent treatment too. 

If you do something to upset Steven, unintentionally or not, he’s telling you. He’ll try not to let it bother him, try to not tell you, but all that lasts the grand total of 2.6 seconds. 

“Love, can you not do that, please? It’s just it upsets me, yeah?” He’ll fiddle with his hands a little if he thinks it’s a ‘silly’ thing. 

But’ll smile when you say of course. He’ll also talk about it in more detail, happy to explain why something bothers him, even if he’s not 100% sure. (He’ll start talking about his physical reactions, “it’s just when you touch that part of my back that way it feels all funny, like I want to be sick.”)

If it’s something that is more to do with an ‘unhealthy reaction’ that’s bothering him (OCD talk here) then he’s also open to discussing it when you prompt him. 

“Why don’t you want the cups here?” 

“Because they don’t go there?”

“Okay, is this a ‘they don’t go there because this is the best place for ‘or a ‘they go there in this way or something bad will happen?’”

“Erm… the second one.” 

“Okay.” Lots of hugs and reassurance. “Do you want to put them somewhere different to fight the OCD?”

“No. But let’s.” 

Jake is a little more likely to stew a little when he’s upset than Steven, but he normally will come and speak with you very quickly after taking a small breath. 

“Amor, please do not do that.” 

You know when something really bothers him because he speaks completely blankly. There’s no emotion and his eyes look empty, as if he’s glazed over. It’s part of his defence mechanism. 

When he’s like this you try to speak as calmly and softly as you can. You once turned a bit quickly when he spoke to look at him and his flinch nearly broke your heart. 

He knows you wouldn’t strike him, but he can’t fight the muscle memory. 

You offer physical contact by holding your arms out to your sides (not in front of you) so that he can initiate it if he wants. Which 99% of the time he does. 

He doesn’t like to speak about the reasons something is bothering him until later, after he’s calmed and his heart has stopped racing. Sometimes this takes a few minutes, other times hours or even days before he feels ready. 

He started to write whatever bothered him, summarising it in a sentence on a scrap piece of paper and pins it to the fridge to let you know he will talk to you about it and that he wants to. He just needs time. 

When Marc has been hiding for a while he starts to feel guilty about it more and more, which only makes him want to stay away from the front even more as well. 

Steven tells him off for sulking.  

Jake tries to reason with him.

In the end, Marc only fronts when he feels ready. 

Very rarely does he tell you what was wrong. Mainly because it doesn’t want to bother you with it. 

Sometimes if you do something he doesn’t like and Steven or Jake are close enough to the front they will be the ones to tell you. 

“Marc doesn’t like that.” 

Marc gets moody with his headmates for ‘speaking for him’.

“Not like you were gonna do it yourself mate, was it? No. You were gonna go and piss off and sulk.” 

“Steven,” Jake is ever the voice of reason, can feel how Marc bristles underneath their skin. “Marc needs time sometimes, you know that.” 

“Yeah, but he’s got to learn to communicate too. Can’t be bloody trying to get everyone to read his mind and then getting upset.” 

It starts a bit of a heated discussion that you can’t hear. 

But you do notice how Marc tenses up.

“Hey,” you nudge your arm into his softly and smile when he looks up at you. “I won’t do it again, okay?” 

He smiled weakly and nods, taking your hand in his and playing with your fingers. “I’ll try to tell you what’s going on more…”

“It’s okay,” you pause, “You know what? How about when I do something that’s upsetting you don’t have to speak, or explain if you don’t want to, but just let me know by signing? That way I won’t do it again.” 

Marc nods and you teach him the sign language for stop in your language. 

It works well for you both.

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[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

Jared Bush says Frozen 3 will surprise people | Latest Updates

In an interview during D23, last weekend in Brazil, Jared Bush, the recently appointed CCO, gave away some teases about Moana 2, Zootopia 2 and the future of Encanto, but he also mentions a bit about Frozen 3.

He says:

“Yeah, yeah, Frozen 3 is coming. And from what I've seen so far [of the film] I think people are going to be surprised. I can’t give away too many spoilers, other than to say that Jennifer Lee is leading the charge and that the story and the direction that she’s taking these characters, what they’re facing, what they’re going to go through, I think is going to surprise a lot of people but it's also going to deliver on everything that people love about Frozen.”

So surprised is the word he uses to describe how we'll react to Frozen 3. That's given because as Jen has said recently that the concept art that was shown during this year's first D23 is just a glimpse of what we could see in the movie. Apart from what we make from that concept we have no clue what Frozen 3 is about and tbh I have to give it to the team for not spilling a single detail about the movie. I know we want to know more but imo I think they're saving all that content for the end of 2026 and into 2027. Maybe a few teases or better insight of the story by the end of 2025, but who knows. Probably also because they're still working on it so whatever they would have told us about the film so far, could have changed and form opinions in our heads about it which they really don't need at this current stage of production. I don't think the cast have even got the script yet as the story is still developing!

Bush also mentions that Frozen 3 is going to deliver on everything that people love about Frozen. Now that's the only real piece of information given - the focal point being on what we want to see. That's what the questions on the first D23 event were about - what we would like to see, what we feel is left to tell. We love the characters, the story, the individual arcs of those characters, the dynamics, the settings, the potential, the mystery, and so much more and so I'll take this a positive sign. That's all of what I make of it.

I know nothing major was revealed in this interview, but I still thought I'd share for those who do take into consideration these little hints and teases. Since Frozen 3's date has been pushed back from 2026 to 2027, most of the content will be given the year of the release and some the year before base done the previous two films promotion (it could be different as this movie is a two parter). I know that's quite long to think about (😭) especially with the honest disappointment that Frozen Winter Festival was not a short film or an official short series but rather just a YouTube series (which is cute nonetheless and good to see they're feeding the younger fans of the franchise), but now moving into 2025 we have 2 and bit years left so we should get more teases in interviews and events here and there.

But regarding FWF, I don't blame them too much because all their focus is on the Frozen 3 and 4 as it is being made back to back, then I'm certain it'll be worth the wait. We can still hope for some kind of Frozen content soon as we do have a couple more years to go so let's see. 🤷🏽‍♀️

P.s I have some Frozen edits I'd love to share so I'll post those if you need something new regarding Frozen. ❄️

[ticklystuff]

Day 13: Alone

a/n: ler!moze, lee!jiaoqiu — from the lovelytickletober list!

———

He wasn't alone.

There was definitely someone here. Be it his sense of smell, acute hearing, or just keen intuition, there was a presence in the shadows that Jiaoqiu couldn't ignore.

So why should he?

The pause was momentary as he continued mincing the fresh garlic, allowing his kitchen to fill with the enticing scent. With a brief flick of the wrist, he tilted the edge of the blade, allowing some of the tinier pieces to fling off the cutting board, eying where they fell to the floor. He then turned his back, grabbing an onion from the basket, returning to the cutting board, chuckling when he glanced at the floor once more.

The fallen pieces of garlic were gone.

He repeated this same process, mincing the onion into fine pieces and sacrificing certain pieces to the kitchen tiles, only for the discarded onion slices to mimic their garlic brethren, vanished without a trace.

Jiaoqiu looked squarely down at the counter, attempting to conceal his smile from the little game, yet continued in new fashion. The oil poured slowly from the bottle in hand into the measuring container, gradually filling until ready to spill over the brim-

"Stop."

Right on cue, a familiar hand had appeared over his wrist, angling the bottle upwards, preventing the stream from reaching overflow. With an amused smile, Jiaoqiu craned his neck to peer behind him, coming eye to eye with Moze.

"Ah, Moze," Jiaoqiu calmly greeted, tempering the mischief at the back of his tongue, "I wasn't aware you were here."

"I've been here.. to check on you," Moze finally answered, his hand remaining over Jiaoqiu's wrist.

Typical Moze, always concerned with his well-being. "Well, since you're here, how about you join me for lunch?"

"Not if you keep making a mess."

Jiaoqiu knew Moze. Despite his intimidating demeanor, Jiaoqiu could describe in great detail Moze's quirks, his pet peeves, his interests, and especially the meaning behind his behaviors. And Jiaoqiu knew, behind that deep tone, Moze wasn't simply requesting with his last statement, he was begging.

"Ah," Jiaoqiu mused, "you mean like this?"

And it was with great amusement that Jiaoqiu flicked his wrist once more, allowing the oil to again cascade from the bottle into the measuring cup, providing the last few droplets needed for the liquid to spill over and onto the counter. Sure enough, Moze had released Jiaoqiu's arm, now attending to the spillage on the counter, padding at the surface with a rag that Moze had seemingly pulled from his back pocket.

"Oh, thanks for cleaning that up for me, Moze," Jiaoqiu said, moving away from the counter to his next task. "I think I should get started on the parsnips. Oh, I sure hope clumsy me doesn't drop any."

He stifled his laughter as Moze's head turned to him, wide-eyed and antsy. "Jiaoqiu, don't."

"Oh no, the cucumber rolled under the dining table."

"Jiaoqiu, stop!"

"Oops, I knocked over the salt!"

"I said stop!"

"Let's make a bet to see if this egg will crack when it hits the floor."

"No!"

And that's how Jiaoqiu ended up wrapped in Moze's arms, unable to carry out anymore "mishaps" for Moze to attend to. Granted, Jiaoqiu was impressed; the kitchen was spotless, as if Jiaoqiu hadn't been toying with Moze the whole time.

"No more.." Moze intensely breathed, squeezing Jiaoqiu tight to his chest, personal space between the two practically nonexistent.

"Hmmm, but who will prepare the meal now?" Jiaoqiu feigned innocence. "Aren't you hungry from always cleaning up after me?"

Jiaoqiu caught the hesitant shrug before the response. "You have to agree to no more messes," Moze spoke, though, even he didn't seem to believe that would actually happen.

And Jiaoqiu sneered, glancing up at the other. "Or what?"

"Or I'll.." There was a visual expression of confusion that appeared on Moze's face, unable to answer the question, playing into Jiaoqiu's hands. The assassins only means to confronting problems was through some form of violence, something he couldn't quite enact on someone like Jiaoqiu.

"Or?" Jiaoqiu tilted his head expectantly.

"I.. I..." he continued to stutter, seemingly at an impasse. "I.... General Feixiao said I could.."

Wait, General Feixiao said what-

His thoughts were soon answered when Jiaoqiu felt a scribble at his side. It was hesitant, almost meek, but it was enough to get the healer to gasp, nearly standing on his toes in reaction at the realization of what General Feixiao possibly advised to Moze.

"W-Wait, Moze!" Jiaoqiu cried out once Moze's fingers seemingly grew more confident in their movements. "I- Nohoho!"

"General Feixiao said to try this.. if needed," Moze flatly stated, as if he didn't believe his own words. His actions matched his tone, clunky and uncoordinated, yet they were enough to send tingles down Jiaoqiu's spine, his tail standing on end as he squealed in Moze's arms.

"A-Ahaha! Mohohozehehe! I-I'm sohohohorry!"

"No more messes," Moze simply put, digging his fingers into Jiaoqiu's waist, making Jiaoqiu kick and laugh.

"O-Okahahahay!"

And this was seemingly enough for the assassin, finally releasing Jiaoqiu from his grip. He took a moment to catch his breath, panting heavily, his body no longer in peak condition to handle being tickled for more than short periods.

"S-Sorry," Moze spoke over Jiaoqiu's staggered breaths and Jiaoqiu couldn't help but chuckle at the awkwardly apologetic expression on Moze's face.

"It's alright," Jiaoqiu sighed, standing upright. "I probably deserved that."

"Perhaps.."

"Well, would you like to help me prepare lunch while you're here?" Jiaoqiu said, beckoning Moze to follow him back to the counter. "No messes this time."

Moze looked at Jiaoqiu, seemingly contemplating if his words were true, before nodding. "I'd like that."

[moroostar]

– CRUSHING ⋆

–☆ fluff

–☆ including : Bokuto Koutarou (slightly ooc)

❕️: I apologize for barely uploading and how short this is (´∀｀；). I've been focusing on school a lot more this year so I won't be post a lot!

Bokuto was confused. He tried asking Akaashi for answers, but he still couldn't understand it. I mean he did understand what was happening to him, he just didn't want to believe it yet.

The ultimate Bokuto Koutarou was crushing on his other best friend.

Every since he figured it out and started to accept it, he has been more serious but nervous towards you.

He was still he usual self most of the time when he was with you, although he would sometimes end up staring at your face and freeze when you accidentally brushed hands when walking.

Whenever you both were sitting next eachother in class he would avert his eyes to you instead of paying attention (he ended up asking for your notes everytime). Every single time he would look at you, everything would quiet down and go slow becoming a calm space around him, he liked the feeling and he would end up finding details on your face he didn't notice before.

Oh how you were starting to drive this man crazy just by existing. Poor Akaashi had to hear everything from Bokuto.

"You don't understand, Akaashi! I'm starting to like looking at his face more and more, I've never liked a guy, especially my BEST FRIEND"

"Ouch."

"Other best friend, but anyways, his hair is looks so soft, his eyes are more pretty everytime I look at them, his lips- oh my god his lips, Akaashi!"

"I'm starting to get more grosses out by all of the sappy stuff that keeps spilling out of your mouth, Bokuto."

He sat up from his laying down position and then he saw you. His eyes brightened up, it almost looked like he had tint stars in them.

"Oh look, it's your boyfriend-"

"Oh hush, Akaashi!"

The color of his cheeks had also brightened to a light pink when he heard his dearesr friend uttee those words.

"Bokuto, you look hot. Do you want me to get you some water?"

He looked up at you, oh god you looked like an angel by the sun just shinning behund you. He thought you were brighter than the sun though. Bokuto almost passed out just by the sight.

Concerned, you reached in your bag to grab a water bottle you bought from the vending machine not that long ago and handed it to him.

"There you go, Bokuto."

Akaashi looked between the both of you and sighed.

"Well, I'm going to get myself lunch since I had to babysit him for a little bit and now it's your turn."

You bid your farewell to him and sat next to Bokuto.

Of course you started to catch on his odd behaviors towards you for the past couple of weeks when being around him.

"Bokuto, are you like okay?"

Sitting next to him under a tree, on the ground, you looked over to him as he still looked foward.

"Bokuto?"

He blinked and looked at you finally humming in response.

"I asked if you were okay, you've been acting sort of strange whenever we hang out together. Did something happen?"

Bokuto stared for a couple second and sighed.

"I've actually been confused with something."

"Is it with math? Y'know you've been asking me for my notes a lot lately, so I can just tutor you if you want-"

"No, not with math... I've been confused with my feelings towards someone."

Taken back, you sat there in silence, not for long though.

"Oh. Who is this someone?"

"You."

"...what."

"You've been confusing me. Actually no, not confusing so I don't know why I said that, but that's not the point. What my point is, I like you. I know you're one of my best friends, and I have no idea where these feeling came from, but I like you. Very much. Please go out with me."

Smiling and with lightened up cheeks, you accepted his offer.

"I like you too, Bokuto. I will gladly take your offer on going out with you."

Bokuto then hugged you tight as a simple thank you.

[13as07]

Motherhood #1

(Kakashi Hatake)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Garajiru]

Requested by: Myself

Keys:

None

[Idea inspired by Criminal Minds - Garcia and Derek; Season 8, Episode 11]

Word Count: 3,979

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None

———————————————————————

My whole body aches as I walk across the grassy field of the Third Training Ground. I'll never understand why Kakashi insists on training so far away from the main parts of the village. Well... I do understand. Despite how he comes off, he is a very sentimental person.

Pain sizzles across my rib cages, a side effect from littered stitches across my skin. I'm never going to hear the end of it when Kakashi finds out.

I should wait until he's done training with his students. I know he's a personal guy and I get it, especially with our line of work, but I want to see him. The burning need for him has been clawing at my heart for the past week. That burning only grew once the stab wounds registered in my head, and somehow became even heavier as needles were being threaded through me to close my wounds. He's going to be pissy or at least off his game when I find him, but that's okay. I know he'll smooth himself out.

As if the universe wants to apologize, a mix of 'why's', groans, and 'Sensei!'s fill the meadow. I can feel a smile perk up at the sounds.

I've heard a lot about my husband's little genins; Sasuke the Uchiha boy who shows great potential if he could get over his attitude, Naruto the chakra-packed spaz-ball who dreams of being Hokage, and Sakara the kunoichi with impressive chakra control who's just a little too distracted by Sasuke.

My smile only grows as the big blob of my husband and his three little blobs fall into my sight. The yellow and orange blob - I think that one is Naruto - is bobbing up and down. What a cute little jumping bean; well jumping blob.

Despite the burning across my sides, I hurry up my pace to get to Kakashi faster.

Once I can make out the details of my dotting husband, the burning in my heart starts cooling off. God, I miss him so much when we're apart. The seemingly unreachable retirement in our future sounds so good right now.

"Calm down, guys. It's just a progress exercise," Kashi's voice rings out, paired with the soft clinking of the bells wrapped around his belt loop. Before I left he mentioned redoing the bell test with his genins to check how they've improved. I guess today is the day.

"Oh, come on Kakashi-Sensei! Do you have to? We all know I'm already the best, do you really have to double-check it?" Blondie whines as he messes with his headband. That is definitely the spaz-ball.

"Being less sucky than Sakura doesn't make you the best," the raven-haired boy mumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Naruto.

Sasuke's eyes catch me for a second before he glances at his Sensei for guidance. Said Sensei hasn't caught wind of me yet, curtsy of his back being turned towards me with his students facing the both of us.

Sakura's face sinks at her crush's words before a closed-eyes smile crosses her face. "I think it'll be fun to do the bell exercise again, Sensei!" When her eyes snap open, they catch on me too, just like the Uchiha did a second ago. Unlike the boy though, her face scrunches up as she stays focused on me. "Sensei-"

I jump forward, arms wrapping around my husband. I immediately regret it when my stitches come into rough contact with Kakashi's vest. A pain-filled whine slips out as I bury my head between his shoulder blades. "That hurt," I whine again, softly digging my fingertips into his stomach.

"Then maybe don't do that," Kash teases, his smile slipping through his words.

My head lifts before falling back down, softly headbutting his back. "Don't be mean."

A soft chuckle fills the air, spilling out from my husband. The sound fills me with warm, the good love-filled kind instead of the longing kind of heat. "My little crybaby," he mumbles, shifting in my hold so my head is against his chest instead of his back. "Why are you being such a crybaby?"

"I'm not being a crybaby," I bite back but it comes out as a pout instead of the strong 'don't fuck with me' attitude I was trying to have.

"Aww, now you're being pouty," he continues to tease as his hands slide under my shirt.

Despite his teasing tone, everything else about Kakashi is serious. His hands are soft and nimble as he rubs them over my skin, checking for new wounds from my mission. His eye repeatedly scanning me, looking for obvious wounds and any sign of real distress.

"I might have had a not-so-perfect mission," I mumble, glancing behind him at his students. They're all looking at each other in confusion, hushed whispers - and Naruto's failing attempt at being quiet - being passed between them.

     "What does that mean?" Kashi asks, his fingers light as he comes into contact with my wrappings.

     It's taken some practice, but I can see the small cracks in his calm composure. His eyebrows are ever so slightly pushed forward, jaw locked almost unnoticeably under his mask, eye slightly wider than normal, and a drop of worry hidden in his words. From an outsider, he'd look as calm as ever, but not to me. I can see the storm brewing under it.

     "I was stabbed a couple of times but it's not that big of the deal. No casualties and my squad came out less harmed than me, so over all a good mission."

     Another slip of composer; his fingers stiffing a bit as he dips them under the bandages. "I can't believe you were stabbed," he whispers, face inching closer to me so I can pick up on the soft volume.

     I feel bad about not being able to wait to see him. I know it's difficult for him to keep his composure when I'm hurt, and even more difficult when we're around people because he's worried his composure will slip.

     "I got stabbed in my vest," I mumble back, wrapping my hands slightly around his arms before I stand up a bit straighter. I use the extra height to nuzzle myself against his cheek. "It's just a couple of stitches, I'm okay."

     "Why don't they make better vests?" Kash mumbles to himself more than me, his focus on his hands as if he could see them through my shirt.

     His breath has picked up too, fingers not so light as they cling to my wrappings. My poor anxiety-filled husband is getting into his head way too much. "They're not stabproof. It's like when your watch gets wet and stops working. That's water resistant not waterproof. They need to make our vests knife-proof. They should-"

     "I... am... fine..." I breathe out, following each word with a kiss. First to his reviled eye, then to his cheek at the edge of his mask, and lastly, a light one against his masked lips.

     "I know but-"

     My hands dip further down his arms, tugging my shirt up gently so the edge of my bandages is exposed. "See? I'm fine?" I tease a bit, dipping my head behind his ear before pressing another soft kiss into him.

     When I fall back into place, Kakashi's eye is dancing over the edge of my wrap, fingers lightly dancing over my skin again. A barely visible pink pokes out from his mask. My partner might be a very composed man, but he's still a man. One that falls victim to the shaping of my waist, especially when it's empathized by a skirt or crop top; or bandages in this case.

     "It's just a couple of stitches," I repeat before dropping my hands back to my sides, my shirt following pursuit.

     "How... how, um..." Kakashi's flustered state is adorable, the pink getting deeper and his eye still locked in please even though his favorite sight is gone. "How long do you need to be taped up like this?"

     "I don't know. A couple of days maybe," I answer, letting my own eyes wander over him. I'm as pleased to look over Kashi's body as he is to look over mine; though his v-line is my favorite part.  A soft hum comes from him, his body going back to his actual calmness instead of his fake composure. "You relaxed now?" I tease, pulling away from his touch.

     "Ya, I'm relaxed now," he husks out, stepping forward in a slow attempt to chase me.

     "Sensei!" All three of his students call, pulling my husband back down to Earth.

     I think he missed me as much as I missed him. The thought makes me happy, tugging another small smirk to my face.

     "Students!" He calls, eye going wide as he looks at me. Perhaps Kakashi doesn't want me around his students because I'm too much of a distraction. Oh well, one day of distraction won't hurt. "Students," he repeats, turning away from me to face the children he's responsible for.

     "Sensei, who's the cute lady?" Naruto asks, his eyes wide as well as he looks over me.

     "Um..."

     "You can call me Mrs. Hatake!" I chirp out, sidestepping Kashi so his students can see me better.

     "She's not even that good-looking," the little emo boy says, rolling his eyes at Naruto's compliment.

     "And you're not as badass as you think you are," I respond, tone still chirpy as I smile at the Uchiha.

     "Maybe let's not insult Sensei's girlfriend," Sakura pipes in, sending a glare at her heartthrob.

     "Wife," Kakashi corrects, a small smile on his face. My heart jumps a bit at the word. I don't think I'll ever get used to him calling me his wife.

     "Wife?!" They all call out, surprise on their face as they look at me.

     "Wife," Kashi repeats, tugging his glove off his left hand before grabbing at mine. He holds up our hands, showing off our matching wedding bands to his students.

     The bands are basic but cute; black with blue lightening strips through them. Gai teases that Kakashi had them made this way to mimic his Chidori as a fail-proof claim to me. I don't mind the teasing, I find it adorable that Kashi wants people to know for certain that he's my husband. What better way to do that than marking me with his personal ninjutsu?

     "You... are married to someone like that?" His kunoichi asks, face scrunched up in disbelief.

     "Is that supposed to be an insult, Sakura?" Kash asks, his face still covered in a smile as he wiggles his glove back on.

     "No, you're just so..." she makes another face, causing a laugh to brew in my chest. "And she's so pretty."

     "You're pretty too, Sakura. I like the color of your hair," I answer, sending the kid a compliment back. Her face shifts to a smile instead of the previous face of disbelief. Good, I'm making a good impression on my husband's students.

     "You know Sakura's name?!" Naruto asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

     I hum a yes, turning my attention to him. "I know your name too, Naruto, and I know Mr Moody over there is Sasuke."

     Naruto - somehow - beams even more with happiness, and Sasuke's face scrunches in disapproval. "How do you know our names?" The ball of chakra asks, his in-place bouncing shifting to actual bouncing.

     "Because she's a jounin, duh. Do you ever use your head Naruto?" Mr Moody asks, paired with another eye roll.

     "Actually, I'm just a chunin. I'm not as skilled as your Sensei," I correct, sending Naruto a soft smile of reassurance.

     "Like a C-level chunin or a B-level chunin?" Sasuke asks, his attention finally caught.

     "Usually B-leveled but I do take C-level missions on occasion."

     "You just got back from a mission, ya?" He asks, body language opening up some. I'm three for three in the student department. That is a solid win.

     "Yes, I did. Maybe we can talk about it over some food, hm?" I gently push, sending Kakashi a sheepish smile. I know he's going to give me what I want; he always does, but I should have asked him privately before bringing it up to his students.

     On the other hand, Kakashi is out of his groove so I'm sure his students are out of a training mindset as well. Some food would help set them back on track, maybe. Probably not, but I want to get to know his students a little more. After all, they're a big part of his life, which makes them a big part of my life.

"Really?! Can we, Sensei? Can we? Can we? Can we?" Naruto cheers, running circles around Kash as he pleads.

"Alright, alright!" He calls, stopping Naruto in his tracks. "We can take a small break and go eat at Ramen Ichiraku, but as soon as we're done eating we are doing the bell test. Y/N can't wiggle you guys out of that," Kashi answers, sending me a warning look, telling me to not even try to stop their testing again after we eat.

"Yes!" Naruto cheers, darting in the direction of the village's main road.

Sasuke rolls his eyes again but follows after his squad mate, his pace notably slower than Naruto's. Sakura follows suit, trying her best to get Sasuke to promise to sit next to her. He is having none of it though, at least not until Naruto offers to sit next to her. Then he seems a little more interested in the offer. The little Uchiha boy takes after his Sensei more than he knows.

—————————————

"That sounds so cool," Naruto yells around a mouth full of noodles. I'll have to send Iruka a passing comment about his kid's lack of table manners. Despite that, Naruto is still adorable and the cutest little fuzz-ball I've ever met.

"Didn't feel cool when I was getting stitched up," I reply a small chuckle following my words.

"If you can take the cut, you can take the stitch," Kakashi teases despite the tighter grip he has on my hand under the table. Mr. Play-It-Cool isn't as laid back as he's pretending.

     "What about you guys? You just got back from the Village hidden in the Mist, ya?" I push gently, trying to change the subject. I can almost hear the 'thank you' brewing in my husband's throat, even if he'd never voice it. The relaxed fingers tangled in mine are enough of an approval. "That must have been fun."

     "It was alright," Sasuke mumbles, chopsticks messing with his noodles. Little Moody isn't as good at playing off his emotions as his Sensei.

     "You got your second tomoe, right?" I try again, turning my focus to Sasuke. He's a closed-off one, just like Kakashi... and his brother.

     The Uchahi's eyes go a bit wide before his full attention is on me. "Um... ya, I guess."

     "You guess? I feel like that's something you would know."

     "I did, ya," he mumbles before turning his attention back to his bowl.

     "Well, that's quite the accomplishment. Your father would be proud."

     I should not have said that. Sasuke's grip on his chopsticks tightens, head snaps back up, glare directed at me, as he pushes himself to his feet. The stool he was standing on clinks to the ground, making Sakura jump. It would be a cute scene if the Uchahi didn't have murder in his eyes.

"And what do you know about my father? Nothing. Just like you know nothing about me, so stop trying to be a mother hen. I don't need you to be one, neither does Naruto or Sakura, so knock it off. And while you're at it stop pretending you know anything about the sharingan too, cause you don't."

     A soft smile sits on my face as I look over Sasuke. He reminds me so much of Kakashi, right down to the similar anger they have. The only difference is I managed to get Kashi to process his anger for the death of his loved ones.

     "Are you done?" I ask gently, ignoring the feeling of Kakashi repeatedly squeezing my hand under the table. That, and the stare he's burning into me.

     "Yes," the Uchiha hisses out, eyes squinting in anger.

     "Well, first, information on anything - sharingan included - is available at the library. Second, your Sensei has a sharingan so I know a good deal about it. Third, there's a difference between me wanting to get to know you and me wanting to mother you. Fourth, I did meet your father quite a few times before his death so I can say for certain that you were one of his pride and joys."

     "Oh," is the only answer I get back, but I don't mind since it seems my speech worked. Sasuke is still a bit on edge but his body language relaxes a bit before he picks his stool back up. I'll count that as a win. What a little spitfire.

The feeling of Kakashi's hold on my hand tightens again, pulling me out of the situation. I turn my attention to him, being met with a soft masked smile. Flowers of love blossom in my chest at the sight. God I love this man, and our little make-shift family. Maybe Sasuke is right, maybe I am accidentally trying to mother my husband's students.

—————————————

"Hatake!" A voice rings out, pulling my attention away from Gai. I've spent the day helping him train his students, aka being an example dummy for new taijutsus he wants to show his genins. It's not all bad, he promised me dinner to "ease my bruises".

"Yes?" I call back, glancing at Gai and his students before turning towards the noise.

Gai's mini-me - Lee - is beaming with joy as he races past me. "If it isn't my greatest competitor for Sakura's heart!" He yells, falling back into his defensive pose. I swear this new generation of Shinobis is just packed full of energy.

     Sasuke makes a face at Lee before turning his attention to me. "Sensei wants you," he murmurs before turning in his heels.

I shoot Gai an apologetic smile before heading off after the Uchahi. It's funny watching him trying to stay a step or two ahead of me. Given, that it doesn't last long, him falling back to a normal pace.

Most of the walk is uneventful, nothing more than silence and eye daggers being thrown at me. "I don't like you," Sasuke finally says once we get to the outer fields of the village.

"Well, I don't like you either," I shoot back, trying to keep the smile off my mouth.

Once again Sasuke makes a face, this time in surprise instead of disgust like earlier. "You can't say that to me."

"And yet, I did," I answer, letting the smirk settle on my face.

"You have an attitude problem."

"I'm copying you, so maybe you have an attitude problem."

Another face, this time leaving him as the spitting image of his mother. It's always surprised me how much Sasuke looks like his mom. Will Kashi and my child look that much like me? Or take after their father? I hope they at least get their father's Shinobi skills. Though, children can't be something I think of right now. Kakashi has his hands full as is.

     Once again silence falls between the genin and I, but this time it's a comfortable silence instead of the anger brewing one from before. As we walk, Sasuke occasionally bumps into me, his nose scrunching up each time followed by a couple of side steps away from me. Despite his efforts, the little Uchahi keeps hovering back to my side and continues to bump into me. It's good to know under all the brewing, Sasuke is still a child.

     "Look!" Naruto's voice echoes across the empty field, his blob coming into view again. "Lady Hatake!" He screams, dragging out my Clan name as he races across the field, Sakura in tow but she's screaming for Sasuke instead of me.

     "Naruto!" I call back, bracing myself for impact. Despite my preparation, I still end up taking a step or two back when Naruto's body collides with mine. His limbs stab into me in a few different places, bones colliding against my own along with my stitches. I suck in the hiss of pain trying to slide out as I hold on to the small boy.

     "Naruto," Sasuke hisses out, dagger eyes back on his face. "Be careful. Hatake is still hurt, dumbie." An eye roll is paired with the end of his sentence, along with a disappointed tongue click.

     "Oh, right. Sorry Lady Hatake."

     "It's all right," I hum, straightening the boy before letting him go. "What are you guys working on?"

     "Chakra control! Which I'm doing awesome at, by the way," Sakura answers, a proud smile across her face. I can't help but smile too at how proud she is of herself. My husband does have some good genins.

     "Hello," Kakashi's voice rings out, pulling my attention away from his students, but not for long.

     "Nah-uh! You get her all to yourself all the time Sensei, wait your turn!" Naruto barks, a sorry attempt at a glare on his face. "Guess what Lady Hatake!"

     "What?" I ask, glancing down at the chakra ball before looking back at my husband. He's beaming - well beaming as much as he lets himself outside of the safety of our house.

     "I tried a new ramen last night!"

     "Oh ya?" My empty question is followed by a twenty-minute conversation about some spicy ramen Naruto tried. It's also filled with Sakura reminding him that he's stupid and Sasuke's disapproval being openly shared.

     "Okay, that's enough about your dinner, Naruto," Kashi pipes up, cutting Naruto off. "You can have her back in a minute. Go... see who can hang upside longest." He mumbles, shrugging towards the tree a couple of feet away.

     "It's totally going to be me," Naruto cheers, running off towards the tree.

     "No way I'm going to let you beat me!" Sasuke yells, dashing after his squad mate, Sakura hot on his heels.

     The thought of children crawls back into my head. I already adore Kash's students, I can only imagine how much I'd adore our children.

     "Hey, Kash-"

     "Love-"

     Silence follows our accidental overlap, before being chased away by both of us chuckling. "What were you going to say?" I ask, soaking in my husband's appearance. No matter how many times or how long I look at him, Kakashi is always the most handsome man in the world.

"I think we should go to dinner tonight," he answers, glancing at his students. As ordered, all three are hanging upside down like bats. Though, Sakura looks tired so the competition will probably end up being between the boys.

"Why's that?" I ask my attention also on the genins. My chest bubbles with joy as I watch the boys try to tug each other off the branches.

"I want to talk about having a baby."

"What?" The word is torn from my lungs as my head flips back to Kakashi.

He's stood there, arms crossed and a faint smile under his mask. "I want to have a baby." He repeats, my head spinning a bit. Maybe he's more prepared for a child than I thought.

"Kash-" I start again, but end up getting cut off for the second time today.

"Naruto is cheating!" Sakura yells, waving her hands around to try and get Kakashi's attention.

     "I'll see you tonight. Naruto! Knock it off!" My eyes trail after him as I watch his path toward his students. The idea of motherhood seemed so lovely a second ago, but now? It's terrifying.

———————————————————————

[venerawrites]

I don’t know if someone headcanoned this before but im curious… Headcanons about Itachi’s s/o feeling sad bc they think they are like Izumi’s substitute (in the Itachi novel he said that he couldn’t correspond her love but this was the closest to an Itachi’s love interest)

author's note: I love when people sending me ideas like these and they always inspire me so much! I really, really enjoyed this one and I hope you do to! Thank you for requesting! <3

I've said this before, but I do imagine Itachi with someone who is was born and raised somewhere remote and far away from Konoha. Most likely they did not knew anything about him, his clan or the massacre prior him telling them.

In this case, it would be Itachi that would share with them that there was once a girl in Konoha, with whom he was close. He won't go into a lot of details, thus leaving his partner to fill the blanks with their own imagination.

It's quite easy to get the impression that their relationship was more serious than he tried to portray it, especially when he explained how he put her into a genjutsu, giving her a sense of long and happy life by his side.

The initial reaction of his s/o is to embrace him or rub soothing circles on his back, comforting him and thanking him for sharing something so intimate with them.

But as the days passed, they started to think more about what Itachi has said about Izumi.

What exactly was their relationship? Did he love her? Would've they been together if the massacre didn't happen? Did he still thought about her? Was his s/o just some kind of rebound?

His s/o would start overthinking and overanalysing, but won't say anything to the Uchiha man. Deep down they would feel embarrassed by all these thoughts - it concerned his life before he met them and this girl has been dead for years now. If anything, it shouldn't bother them at all.

But it did. A LOT.

Now, at this point Itachi would've known his partner for quite a while, so he will immediately pick up the small changes in their behaviour.

He would probably wait a few days up to a week, just to see if they are going to tell him what is bothering them. When they don't do that, he would sit them down and confront them himself.

He is an extremely smart and calculating man, so he already had an idea why his s/o was behaving strangely, especially since this change happened after he opened up to them.

His partner would initially deny something was up, but after a bit more pushing from Itachi's side, they would finally vocalise their thoughts about how they are nothing more but a replacement for Izumi.

The man listens quietly, only nodding his head from time to time and mentally scolding himself for even letting such thoughts get to his s/o head.

After his partner finish their little rant (I would imagine that at this point they are quite upset, spilling all the doubts and worries that have been torturing their mind for weeks.), he would gently take their hand and lay a small kiss on the back of it.

He calmly explains to them that while Izumi did indeed had feelings for him, he never seen her in a romantic light. The genjutsu he used on her is an image of how her dream life looked, not how he imagined his. He gave her mercy, not love.

His s/o would seek some final validation for his feelings toward them, which he would gladly provide in the form of both verbal and physical affection.

However, if his partner remains somewhat unconvinced, he would get hurt and offended. Has he not shown many times that he loves them and only them?

He is also not the type to discuss the same topic over and over again, so he expects that one time clarification is enough. If their partner decided to bring it up again in the future, he would probably be a bit annoyed.

Itachi would always remain open and honest with his s/o, but since that "slip up" he would definitely take more care about how he word his thoughts.

cc artwork: Jae Cheol Park

[cedarspiced]

PSA for THC and CBD users:

you can, in fact, overdose on THC or CBD, contrary to popular belief. it's especially easy to do if you're already on a medication that messes with your serotonin levels (SSRIs, SNRIs, etc.). it's even easier to do if you're on an SNRI and also have bad chronic pain that you're trying to manage via CBD and edibles (hi, that's me!).

i found this out the hard way last weekend by using too much of a CBD tincture in combination with having an edible, and had to be rushed to the hospital with serotonin syndrome.

how did it feel? well, not great. i genuinely felt like i was actively dying and needed to get my affairs in order.

i'm going to talk in detail about my experience below the cut. if you don't wanna read all that, i do ask that you please at least look through this link if you use cannabis products.

before i go on, i want to be very clear that the symptoms of serotonin syndrome are different for everyone. the link above has a more complete list of symptoms. i'm going to be describing my own personal experience with it.

the first signs that something was very wrong were the severe anxiety and confusion (both of which i chalked up to just being high at first).

then came the tremors and rapid heartbeat. i couldn't stop trembling. i spilled my tea everywhere when i tried to pick it up because i was shaking so badly.

by the time i got to the ER, i was fighting hard not to pass out, because i felt like if i did, i wasn't going to wake up. my skin was so hot it felt like i was on fire, and my heart felt like it was going to explode from how fast it was beating.

they wheeled me into a bare, grey room with nothing in it aside from a window with blinds, a black plastic chair, and a single bed. they asked me to put on scrubs and grippy socks. they gave me an anti-anxiety medication. and then all they could do for the next 6 hours was monitor me.

once the edible and CBD oil wore off about 4 hours in, i began to feel less like i was on my deathbed. definitely, absolutely not back to normal, but better.

i'm used to full body pain, but this was something else. if you've ever wondered what it would be like to be put through a meat grinder full of salt and lemon juice while staying alive through the whole thing, i'd imagine that was pretty damn close. i'm not sure if that's caused by the serotonin syndrome itself, or if that was just my body making sure i was still alive, but by god it was not fun.

i'm ok now, but i've decided that i'm not ever going to use any cannabis products while i'm still on my current medication.

if you made it this far, thank you for reading. i do want to be clear that this is not a 'don't ever use weed!!!1!' post. this is an 'if you do use weed, please please PLEASE be aware of how it might interact with any other medication you're on, lest you end up like me' post.

so please, do NOT end up like me. be smart. do your research. it's a lot cheaper and less stressful than a visit to the ER, i promise.

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

hiii!!! I love your writings about russell adler ! I was wondering if you could write something about him being a yandere with a reader? thank you so much for reading this !!!

Hi anon!

Thanks so much for the idea, and sorry that it's taken me a little bit to get back to you about it, though you might be able to see why...

I've never properly written something yandere before, and once I started going with the idea, it kind of took on a life of its own, and it ended up with a pretty heavy narrative element, so hopefully this is something you enjoy!

Fair warning that I played this pretty straight, so it gets a little dark, especially towards the end.

Yandere Russell Adler x Reader

Warnings for: Brainwashing, controlling and manipulative behaviour, intentional isolation, kidnapping, imprisonment, mentions of violence, mentions of death, physical manhandling of reader (at end), and implied violence towards reader (at end)

if you don't like the sound of any of the above, see yourself out now

You meet him in the early 70s, in a completely genuine accident where you bump into each other in the break room. Luckily, the coffee in your cup goes over the floor as opposed to either of you, so after an awkward laugh and each getting fresh cups, you both leave with a positive impression of each other. Then, you spend the rest of the day kicking yourself because you didn’t ask for his name, brooding at your desk as you try to think up a way to hang around the break room until you find him again. Lucky for you, Adler is way ahead of you. He picked out your name on your badge the second you bumped into him, and he spent the rest of his day pulling all of the strings he had access to in order to get his hands on your file, so he could start learning everything there was to know about you.

He finds that you actually have a fair bit in common. You’re both recently divorced, both left California needing fresh starts, and both of you were highly driven people whose dedication to their job went above and beyond anyone else in their departments. Never mind that you were a clerk, rather than an agent – not that there was anything wrong with that, in Adler’s eyes. He understood, maybe more so than some of his coworkers, that without the office staff, the CIA would grind to a halt. And you were an exceptional one. You clocked in more hours than anyone else in your office, and had done every month, every week even, since you’d started at your position. You were dedicated, a true believer, like him.

That realisation led to him asking you out, nothing special, in his own words, just dinner and a couple of drinks. Something that could be easily recovered to a friendly hangout if you said no. But you said yes, figuring, fuck it, why not? It was high time that you put yourself back out there, and for someone you’d met by almost spilling coffee on him, Adler was remarkably charming.

On the date, he charms your socks, and several other things off. It ends up back at your place, both of you naked in your bed as you cuddle up to his side, yawning as you sleepily run your hand over his stomach. Adler sits there, stroking the back of your neck as he waits impatiently for you to go to sleep and leave him free to snoop around your personal life unchecked, to just make sure that you’re the perfect one for him, and to brush up on a few details about how he can be perfect for you.

It’s a whirlwind, rebound, your friends, your family, everyone in your life says when you tell them about him. That is, until you get engaged, then married within the year. The comments go quiet after that, and any that do pop up you brush off with, you’ve both been divorced once already, and you’re not going to sit around on a good thing because society has some arbitrary idea that an engagement should last at least a year.

Besides, it’s not like much really changes after your marriage, other than you moving into his place. Both of you keep working, you at your clerk position, and Adler doing whatever it is that he does, disappearing for months around the globe, both of you content with the idea that he’s just a phone call away. 

Adler always keeps his watch running on American time, so he knows whether to call your office or the house, to always get through to you on the first call. Allowing for other plans, of course. He gets restless, sitting there staring at his watch as he waits for it to get to the time you usually get back from doing the shopping, so he can call and hear your breathless hello, as you tell him you’re very sorry, but you just have to get one more bag in from the car, it has ice cream so it really can’t wait, no not even for your husband, as he fights back the annoyance rising in his chest that you dip away for the thirty seconds it takes to sort that out. It’s worth the wait, though. When you come back, sat down at your kitchen island with a cup of coffee, he can ask you about your day, patiently going through every little detail of it.

Sometimes on these calls, when you mention that you’ve made a new friend, you think he sounds angry about it. You brush it off, assuming that it’s out of frustration that he can’t really make and maintain friends outside of work in the same way you can. That, and the fact that most of your new friends end up flaking on you after only a couple of months, all of them going through the same pattern of avoiding you, ducking their eyes down like you aren’t there if they see you in public, like someone told them they should be scared to associate with you. 

There is one point where your relationship majorly changes. It’s an autumn day like any other when you come home from an appointment to find Adler waiting for you. You start to question if he got off work early, only for him to take his sunglasses off and pull you close, letting you see the fear in his eyes. He apologises to you, begging for you to stay quiet as he whispers in your ear that the house, your marital home, is bugged, and neither of you are safe. The reds, the soviets are coming, and both of you need to leave. He already has the bags packed, and lets you take one last anxious turn around the home to grab anything he’d missed, before both you and he get into his car and drive away, leaving the home abandoned behind you.

You glance back at it one last time as you turn out of the end of the street, suddenly realising that this will be the last time you ever see it. Adler rests his hand on your knee and murmurs another apology, as he knows how much you loved that house, but he has to keep you safe. He wouldn’t be making you do this if it wasn’t necessary, you know that right?

Of course you do. You knew there was a chance of this danger when you married him, and you know that he will protect you now. He’s your husband, he has to. It was right there in your wedding vows. 

He moves you out of the state, to a different one. You’re not sure which, just that it’s further north than Virginia. He tells you that he can’t tell you that now, for your safety, but he will soon. You trust him, even though it never gets brought up again. You’re too busy trying to home make in the small cabin he’s moved to you. It’s remote, barely has electricity and running water, but you make do. You both have to live off the land, with occasional supply runs to bulk buy the basics, always to a different town, always early in the morning or late at night. At first, you did them together, but after a while, the fear gets too much for you, so Adler takes the burden off your shoulders and starts going on his own. He’s capable of defending himself, it’s better this way. Safer.

Your new home is perched on a mountain side, and surrounded by dense woods. In them, Adler teaches you how to hunt, to skin, clean and prepare game, how to use the hunting season to stock a freezer for the year round. You spend your time clearing a patch of earth at the back of the house to build a garden, planting and growing all kinds of fruit, vegetables and herbs in it. Adler helps you with it, too, getting down on his knees alongside you to plant it, weed it, harvest it. The idea of a traditional division of labour, with a breadwinner and a homemaker, disappears from your mind, as you wonder why you ever tried to build a life anywhere else. Both you and Adler fit into this life so naturally, so happily, that you sometimes forget why you moved here in the first place. That ignorant bliss lasts until there’s an incident, as Adler calls them, and you’re forcefully reminded that you’re here to hide. 

Sometimes, late at night, you wonder about the outside world. How could it be, that now even in the late 90s, the cold war rages on, tipping the world ever closer to that knife point and the nuclear fire raining down. 

The CIA, FBI, whoever was supposed to be protecting you and Adler, must be stretched thin, whatever’s going on. Why else would the ‘incidents’ be occurring more frequently, now? It seemed like each time was a closer call than the one before. 

Like last week. The man had looked like a ranger, with the hat and the badge, but he was a red, Adler assured you, as he left to deal with the body stretched across your driveway. He gets calls, late at night when you’re asleep, and one told him that a local ranger had been compromised. Each person who strays too close, he kills. It’s to protect you, both of you, so you don’t bat an eye.

Because, Adler isn’t randomly or excessively violent. He didn’t kill your parents, or your friends back in California. He didn’t even kill your ex-husband, no matter how much he wanted to. Every violent thing you’ve seen him do has been set up in your mind as necessary, so that by the time it happens, it’s already justified to you. He’s doing his duty to his country, to you. 

Adler doesn’t need you to be scared of him. You’re so scared of the red army that you’ll run to him no matter what he does, because he’ll keep you safe. Every time he reminds you of that, he can see the relief in your eyes, and he wonders if you’d ever be capable of pulling a trigger on a human, too. Then, if it all went wrong, he could reveal the truth to you, that the cold war was over, and that you’d murdered someone, but if you stayed with him, he could protect you from any charges and you wouldn’t go to prison. He liked having contingencies.

Which is also why the house had a basement, that you weren’t allowed into.

When one day, you question him on something, which will happen one day, (Adler could never help himself around the perceptive ones,) he’ll be ready. First step will be to keep lying to you, gaslight, he thinks the term is now. He will sit down on your porch swing with you, gently rocking back and forth as he lets you ask your questions about all the things that don’t add up, holding your hands tight, stroking his thumb over your knuckles as he provides a reasonable sounding answer for each and every one. 

By the end of your attempt at an interrogation, you’re not sure if he even knows that he’s lying. You wonder if you’ve missed something, some trauma he has that his mind has taken and used to warp reality into the fantasy world you’ve both been living in for the past ten years. When was the last time either of you had any contact with the real world? Read a newspaper, listened to the radio, watched TV? 

At first, pity overwhelms you, and you determine to try and help your sick husband to regain his mind, which you try to tell him gently. He pats your head, like he’s pretending to listen to your words, and heads inside, leaving you alone. As you keep thinking, trying to plan how you can get him to abandon your solitary life and move back to society, the doubts creep in. 

You end up deciding that Adler knows that everything he’s saying to you is a lie. You’re sure of it. He’s too awake, too alert to be suffering like that. Not that you’re a doctor, or know much about things like that, but your gut’s telling you that this was the truth, and your gut had never led you wrong. You’d just been ignoring it. Of course, that ranger was just that, a ranger, not a spy. 

You knew then that if you wanted to leave him, you were going to have to kill him. There was no other way out. You knew that, and so did he. 

He wouldn’t kill you back, though. For you, Adler had something a little different. 

As much as he didn’t want to, some part of Adler always knew that brainwashing you would be inevitable. He held off until he had to, because as much as he was one to tout his own genius, he knew he wasn’t perfect. He was ham-fistedly meddling around inside people’s brains, trying to do what Dragovich had perfected years before. He knew that even a little bit would do a lot of damage, and he wasn’t going to risk it unless it was necessary. 

Unfortunately, it was now. That afternoon, after the porch, you’d acted normal. Come in all smiles to him and started preparing dinner alongside him, like you did every day, acting like all was right in the world. That night, however, you’d tried to leave. 

More than that, you’d tried to kill him. But, as you’d looked down the sight at his sleeping body, you’d realised that you didn’t have the strength to pull the trigger. Not out of love for him, Adler wasn’t naïve, but out of your unblemished humanity. You’d never killed a man, and you weren’t going to for your selfish sake.

He’d caught you off guard when he’d opened his eyes, having been awake since you’d got up and unlocked the gun cabinet, not taking care to set he heavy lock down carefully on the oak wood table. You froze, letting him get up at an almost mockingly leisurely pace before he took the gun from you. He unloaded it and set it aside, reaching out for you like he was going to forgive you, taking your shoulders in his hands, looking down at you with a sad smile as his grip tightened, and he started dragging you towards the basement.

You didn’t even think to put up a struggle until he’d dragged you down the steps and was in the process of tying you up to the waiting chair, but by then it was too late. You lashed out with your one free hand, which he just tutted at, bending your hand back painfully as he bound your wrist to the other arm of the chair. All you could do was sit there and panic, staring bug eyed as he pulled out vials upon vials of some kind of drug. Your eyes caught the label, and you heard your own weak voice ask what ‘separation’ meant. 

That made Adler laugh, as he turned and crouched in front of you, setting the hand with his wedding ring on your knee, the gold glittering in the light as he described how separation was a not particularly fun little drug, that was going to break your mind into pieces, as many pieces as he needed, until he brought his loving wife back again.

What he didn’t tell you, was how wrong it could go. As he stood up again, your struggle in the chair faintly reminded him of Bell, all those years ago. Really, he thought to himself as he prepared your first dose, if it all did go wrong, and you ended up an almost mindless husk like Bell had been… it wouldn’t be the end if the world. He’d still have you, at his side, all to himself, which is what he really wanted. 

He tapped the syringe carefully, surveying the liquid inside through the dim light as he turned back to face you, smiling at your scared face. Phenosorazine really was a beautiful thing. 

[l3viat8an]

HWAAAAHHH HEY ROOOOO ♡

A not so quick thought I've been dying to shareeeee ahhhhh

Omg- so yk how Mc has that long table in their room??? Imagine setting up a craft station each week for the boys to do a lil craft.

Beel, Asmo, Dia, Simeon and Luke are super excited for crafting. Barbie, Mamms and Levi are excited too even if they won't admit it. But Luci, Satan and Belphie need a little bit of convincing. They're not children! But after your first successful chaotic crafting session they start to like it.

𖥸 Luci is surprisingly artistic. Even if it seems silly, this little crafting session is very relaxing and it gives him time to bond with his brothers. He likes to follow the model closely first before experimenting a little bit with his technique and style

𖥸 Mamms + Levi are trying to 1 up each other the whole time. They will hate on each other's projects and will fight over supplies. Mammon will swipe the scissors from Levi mid-cut even though there are 5 other pairs currently not being used. Then Levi will try to get them back and a fight will break out. Mc has to use "stay" before Levi summons Lotan.

𖥸 Satan bbg I'm so sorry. He will make something beautiful that he's proud of but it will get ruined. He'll just be putting the finishing touches on his craft when Levi and Mammon's fight will cause something to ruin it. A paint cup got knocked over and now there's paint water soaking his hard work. Or the glitter got spilled and now there's sparkly bits clinging to the undried glue. Mc is gonna have to use "stay" again to keep him from wringing his older brothers' necks.

𖥸 Asmo's crafts can be described in one word. Shiny. He's using all the glitter, gold leaf and sequins available to him. He especially likes those gold and silver detailing pens. But don't mistake sparkly for tacky because even if his crafts are sparkly they are still tasteful.

𖥸 Beel + Belphie will make adorable little projects but Beel will try to eat the supplies duh. Please for the love of Dia get the nontoxic supplies. He can't help it though. That shade of pink looks just like a poison strawberry tart and the colors Simeon mixed look exactly like Madam Scream's Macarons! He just wants a little taste. Belphie will be busy trying to stop him from drinking paint. If he keeps a few extra snacks on hand then it will keep Beel at bay.

𖥸 Diavolo is just absolutely enamored by all the cool crafts. Like woah you made that little scarecrow!? And you made a pom pom pumpkin? He's so excited to try out all the crafts and is that one weirdo that is absolutely covered in 8 different colors of paint somehow even though he only used white.

𖥸 Barbatos will also create the most gorgeous crafts. Like excuse me sir, you're telling me you made that out of construction paper, pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks???? There ain't no way. 100% the chillest crafter at the table but he will snap Mammon and Levi's necks if any of the mishaps of their fight ruins his project.

𖥸 Simeon and Luke will probably work together on a craft. Like Asmo's projects, Simeon and Luke will add lots of pastel colors and shiny bits to their project mostly in the form of gold flakes or those metalic paint pens.

𖥸 Solomons crafts are similar to his cooking. They never end up being what was intended. Like today we're making kites and - Uhhh Solomon made an abstract Mona Lisa with construction paper shapes?? Alright then... You do you man

HIIII CHERRY!!! Omgg okay- this is all so cute <3 finally giving that silly table a good use too jsjsjsj besides homework 💀

Lucifer being good at everything doesn’t even surprise me anymore- but he’s genuinely very into it and it’s nice to see him try to relax and do something with his brother that’s just for fun!!!

Mammon + Levi- I wouldn’t expect anything else honestly- those two can’t stop for five minutes and they almost ruin it for everyone. (Until MC calms them down and fixes everything) also the fact Levi’s better at traditional drawing them Mammon is probably another reason they fight hskshsj

Poor Satan. Tho depending on how annoying Levi & Mams have been it might be fine to let Satan smack them up a bit- jkjk bad idea ik- MC needs to help him calm down and maybe start a new project together? (That’ll at least perk Satan up and piss off Levi ‘n Mammon which again will make Satan feel better :))

The first thing Asmo used was a pick glitter gel pen and his artwork is absolutely gorgeous~ (definitely something super shiny!!! but still gorgeous and he’s careful to stay at the other end of the table away from Levi and Mammon helpsjsj)

All the supplies have to be non-toxic and absolutely no one can try drawing or making anything resembling food- Also just imagine Belphie taking the paint water away from Beel and putting it by his drink….so a little later sleepyhead accidentally drink some instead lolol also anything Belphie actually makes looks like it’s out of a horror movie while Beel’s is just…abstract :)

Diavolo’s feels like a callout as the kid who was always covered in paint but he’s so happy with his little somewhat lumpy pompom and little painting!! Just look at his sweet smile!!!

Barbatos doesn’t even need to threaten Mammon or Levi- they take one look his way and see that smile and know they better knock it off and behave- also how??? Sir it’s gorgeous but how??? Hell he probably made a fully functioning little model of MC XD

Simeon and Luke are adorable as always!! It’s definitely something sweet, yet a little more simple, but still very cute! The shiny bits are perfect and they definitely made it with the intention of gifting it to MC when they’re done <3

Solomon……Solomon wtf why?….you could’ve drawn a stick man and it would’ve been better that…uhhh that- But he’s happy!! Also very, very proud of it and when you ask what it’s supposed to be he looks a little offended-

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Chapter 7

Series Summary: Gemma is definitely Cassidy James' favourite Styles family member, considering they are best friends and all. And especially considering that Harry Styles is Gemma's smug and self-centered younger brother. Her life isn't perfect, and neither is she, but she hates how everyone thinks Harry is. Because she knows that's not the case.

Chapter Summary: Cassidy thought her friendship with Harry and her relationship with Derek could exist peacefully. But you can't always have what you want, and sometimes you can keep what you already have.

Chapter Warnings: Some explicit language, mention of sex, alcohol consumption, jealousy, argument, physical altercation, panic/anxiety attack

[ present - August 2020 ]

As the sunlight from outside peeks through the curtains, Cassidy stretches her body, her eyes still shut as she holds onto that peaceful feeling.

A stirring beside her opens her eyes, and she rolls over to see Derek slowly waking.

It wasn't planned that he would stay the night, but the relief from her completed work, a couple glasses of wine, and the feeling of his lips persistently grazing her neck sent them straight to the bedroom as soon as her laptop was shut.

"Mm. Good morning." Derek mumbles, turning onto his side and slowly blinking to clear his vision, smiling as they meet each other's gaze. "I definitely enjoy waking up like this."

Cassidy brings her shoulders up in shyness, a blush forming on her cheeks. He is the first man, in a very long time, that she has woken up next to in the bed. The man before him was, maybe unfortunately, her last sexual partner. The man before him is actually, in a way, the reason it's been so long. Because, the man before him is Cecelia's father.

[ flashback - January 2016 ]

"You had sex with Nathan?" Gemma squeals, bouncing in excitement.

Cassidy smiles at not only the question, or the memory of that night, but also at how silly yet normal it feels to be sitting on Gemma's bed and talking about boys, since now they are in their early twenties.

"You're acting like I'm some shy, little virgin, Gem! I've had sex before."

Her best friend swats her arm and Cassidy grabs it in dramatic fashion.

"I know you're not, CJ. I was at the party when that all changed." She winces in disgust, and Cassidy knows it is due to the reminder of that night. She was naive, and inexperienced, and it was just bad. "I know about everyone you've had sex with."

Cassidy clears her throat, desperately hoping that Gemma doesn't read anything into it, because there is actually one person that her best friend does not know about. That she can never know about. Gemma will never know that Cassidy had sex with Harry. Twice.

"Okay, now you're making me out to be a whore."

"Oh for fucks sake, CJ." Gemma rolls her eyes, pulling her knees to rest under her chin. "So… what was he like?"

"Gem!" Cassidy exclaims, tossing a nearby pillow in her friend's direction.

"What? I had to ask…"

"You really didn't…"

Gemma pouts, giving her best begging eyes, even though they both know that Cassidy will spill the beans anyway.

"It was good." She states, dropping her head down onto her own knees as she feels a pink hue rushing to her cheeks. "Really good."

"That's all I get?"

"I'm not going into detail about it, Gem, bloody hell!"

"Fine." Gemma's shoulders drop in disappointment, causing Cassidy to let out a loud laugh.

"It was hot and sweaty." She replies, suddenly wanting to give her friend just a little something to satisfy the curiosity. "And, he was good at it."

A buzz almost vibrates through the entire mattress, and both girls check their phones to see who was sent some form of communication. Cassidy holds hers up so the screen is on full view for her friend.

"Speaking of…"

🗨️Nathan: i had a really good time with you

Cassidy instantly feels the pink hue turn to a bright, hot red. She bites her bottom lip, and her gaze flickers up to her best friend, not speaking any words to clue her in on what was just said through the text.

🗨️Cassidy: i did too

🗨️Nathan: i'll let you know next time i'm in town

🗨️Nathan: if you wanna hang out again

"Well… what does it say? Are you gonna see him again?" Gemma asks, scooting across the bedding as if it gets her closer to the information she's about to receive.

"Ummm…" Cassidy begins to reply. She feels an almost giddiness begin to flutter in her stomach, but tries to reel it in. When they met, at that One Direction party, she figured he was nice, even though their interaction was cut short by a certain long-haired twat. And when Michal later mentioned Nathan had been asking about her, she must admit she was a little flattered, despite the awkward tension in the room between her and Harry. It's sort of ironic that she was so insistent that she and Nathan were not going on a date on New Year's Eve, yet here she is, talking to her best friend about how she just spent the night with him. She can almost hear Harry's disgustingly arrogant 'I was right' comment if he were also involved in this conversation. She hates that he was, coincidentally, correct. But her recent date with Nathan went really well, and even though it would cause Harry's already giant ego to grow, she's actually glad she got together with the guy.

"Yeah." She utters, looking down at the open messages on her phone, slight discouragement settling in.

"That doesn't sound convincing…"

"It's just that…" Cassidy looks up, her teeth toying with her bottom lip as she adjusts her posture. "He isn't always in town. I guess he's been traveling a bit for his job."

"What does he do?" Gemma asks. "I don't remember."

"Honestly? I don't either." She admits, pulling her lips inward with a little guilt. "Something with production, or marketing, I think."

"Hm." Her best friend hums, an expression of thought now embedded between her brows. "Well, it seems as if he likes you… he wants to see you again when he can… maybe just see where it goes?"

"See where it goes." Cassidy utters back, as if to let the words take root in her brain. She looks down to her phone again, her thumbs positioned over the keyboard as she begins to type.

🗨️Cassidy: yeah, let me know when you're back

[ present - August 2020 ]

Cassidy gives Derek one last kiss before rolling out of his arms and scooting close to the edge of the bed to retrieve her phone.

"I think we slept in…"

"That's good… right?" Derek chuckles, a humorously confused look across his still sleepy face.

"Yeah, it is, I guess. I just never get to do it. But it's good." She smiles back, unlocking her phone to check the time. As she opens it, her expression drops and she quickly sits up in the bed. "Nope… not good. Not good!"

"What? Why?" Derek asks, sitting up to match her posture and placing his hand on her back.

"Shit. Umm… okay, okay…" She stutters, looking around the room for something, though she isn't sure what she needs, since her mind has become a jumble. "The time! Harry is gonna be here in 15 minutes with Cece!"

"Okay… I don't understand why that's bad."

Cassidy sighs. Not truly out of annoyance, but more so to regulate her breathing, also hoping she can take that second to gather her thoughts.

"She's going to see you here." That's all she can manage as her mind focuses on searching for her clothes.

"I'm… confused… I'm still not seeing the problem."

She can't blame him, really. He's never dated a single mum, so he's not accustomed to the dynamic of this sort of relationship. She really shouldn't blame herself for anything either, but she can't help picturing the face Cecelia will make seeing Derek there when she is brought back home. It doesn't sit right with Cassidy, not this early on.

"She's still getting used to us being together, Derek. I don't want to make it even more awkward for her."

"Cecelia is only 3 years ol-"

"Derek, please. Y-you... I need you to leave."

"Okay." He slides out of the bed, stopping his steps as he gets close enough to hold onto her shoulders. "I don't want you to stress out. I'll go."

Cassidy nods in response, closing her eyes as he kisses her forehead and releases his hold for them to both find their clothing.

She feels her breaths pick up their pace, hoping she can keep herself calm enough so that Derek doesn't pick up on her current fret.

As he finally finishes dressing, he comes up behind her, shuffling along with his hands on her waist as she exits the bedroom, walking to the hook by the front door where he placed his keys.

She spins around to find a wide, amused grin stretched across his face, causing a small amount of annoyance to bubble up.

"What's so entertaining about this?"

He pulls her closer, once again placing his lips on her forehead, then down onto her nose, and one on her own lips.

"This is the first time I've been kicked out." He utters. "But if it ended up happening, I would never have thought it would be because someone was coming back home. Well, not a kid, at least."

"It's just…" She begins to reply, not even sure of what she wants to convey, her mind is in too much of a frantic state.

"I was just trying to lighten the mood, I'm sorry."

He pulls back, lifting her chin to focus her gaze on his. "It'll be okay. I'll call you later, yes?"

"Yes." She quietly responds, receiving one last kiss, and watches as he exits through the front door.

She releases a few shallow breaths as she attempts to gather herself. Derek is gone, which wasn't the problem, but she does believe that having him there when Cecelia got home would just create an even more awkward dynamic between the two of them. She may be young, but she is observant and bright. Cassidy is sure she would pick up on the fact that something was different. Or, at the very least, feel upset because someone else is at their flat in the morning, despite her own absence. Even if Cassidy is completely wrong, she'd much rather be safe than sorry. Her daughter always comes first.

A knock on the door pulls her out of her daze, creating a frustration since it seems Derek is being a bit careless and disregarding her wishes.

She swings the door open, finding Harry standing on the other side, with Cecelia's little hand wrapped in one of his, and her belongings held in his other.

"Mummy!" She exclaims, releasing herself from Harry and wrapping her arms around her mum's leg.

"H-hey, Bug." Cassidy manages to reply, her gaze flickering down the corridor with worry beginning to build. Did they see him? Did they both see Derek? If they did, what might he have said to them?

She moves out of the way, ushering them both inside, and closes the door behind them.

Cecelia runs straight to her bedroom, and Harry turns around with a curious expression on his face.

"I see work went well…" He states, an unclear tone to his words. Cassidy feels her chest tighten at the realization that they did, in fact, run into the man who stayed the night. Not only did her daughter encounter him, but Harry too, and she can't determine why that bothers her almost as much, but assumes it is because of the tension they always seem to have. "Cass, are you alright?"

"Did… did he say anything?"

"Who? Derek?"

"Yeah."

Harry shakes his head, putting down the bag of Cecelia's things and placing one hand on Cassidy's arm.

"I spotted him in the parking lot. Cece didn't even notice." His response helps her to release a bit more of a shaky breath, and Harry gently squeezes her arm. "Hey. Inhale and exhale for me, yeah?"

Her eyes meet his, seeing the familiar concern that he has shown each time he's helped her through a panicked state. He begins to demonstrate what he's asked her to do, and she follows along, breathing in and out at the same pace, seeing his own worry diminish each time they do so together.

"There you go." He encourages, his focus fixed on her. "Better?"

"Yes." She replies, her lungs opening with her new regulated breathing. "Thank you."

"What's going on?" He asks, that concern seemingly turning from her panic and now to what may have caused it.

"I don't really know." She replies. Despite simply not wanting Derek's presence to create an uncomfortable environment for Cecelia, she isn't sure why that possible scenario caused such an intense reaction.

"Was it Derek?" He questions, his tone turning a lot more stern than it was just moments ago. "Did something happen with him?"

"No, no, no." She quickly responds, wanting to squash the negative assumption immediately. "No. I just… I didn't want Cece to see him here."

"Why's that?" He asks suddenly.

"I'm not sure." Her brow furrows, searching her mind for a satisfying answer. Not necessarily for Harry, but for herself. "I just thought it might be awkward for her. I'm sure I was just being ridiculous."

"That's not ridiculous, Cass." He gives her a small, yet reassuring smile. "She's your daughter. You want to do what feels right for her."

A warmth falls over her. A sudden relief through validation. She's a mother. She's allowed to be protective. Especially when allowing another person into their lives. And besides, this is all new territory for her.

Derek hasn't been in a situation like this either, so she can't expect him to understand. Oddly, Harry seems to get it, but many of his other friends have children too. He's probably been privy to a multitude of different parenting difficulties.

"I didn't… plan any of it, by the way."

"What do you mean?" He asks, confusion appearing on his features.

"I didn't know he was coming over last night. He showed up while I was working. He hung around while I was writing, and then we ended up-"

"I don't need the details." Harry interrupts, smiling yet wincing simultaneously, causing Cassidy to laugh.

"I just don't want you to think that I had you watch Cece so I could… have a date or something, and not tell you." She explains softly, and shyly.

"Cass… I know you're not that type of person." Harry chuckles. "And I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. I offered to help, there were no conditions."

She sighs out of relief. Mainly due to the reassurance of his willingness to help out. But also, mildly, she feels that relief because he doesn't seem to be uncomfortable with whatever potential reason she needed that help. Maybe that's a good sign, that they can all get along, and be around each other.

"Plus, I'll take any opportunity to spend time with the James girls…" He begins to add, and by the look being created in his face, Cassidy can tell he has something cheeky to say next. "Well, one of them. The other is a bit of a nuisance…"

"Oh you're one to talk, you wank-"

"But speaking of hanging out, are you free this weekend? My friends Sarah and Mitch want to meet you." He states, a shy blush forming on his cheeks, and an almost timidness to his tone.

"From your band? Why?" She asks, hoping the question didn't come across as snarky. Though, considering their usual banter, she wouldn't really care either way.

"Yeah." He chuckles, running a ring-free hand through his unclipped hair. "They want to meet the girl who tormented me as a kid."

"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" She exclaims, watching as a wide grin stretched across his face, and a dimple caves into his cheeks.

Harry throws up his hands, dramatically, in defense of his sarcastic statement.

"That's how I remember it…" He replies, the grin somehow getting wider. "It would be a small group of us, eating out or something. You can tell lies… I mean stories… from our childhood."

"Wow. You are really selling me on the idea of hanging out with you and your friends." She rolls her eyes, noticing Harry pulls his lips as he jokingly does the same.

"You'll have friends there too. Me…" He points to himself proudly, and arrogantly, as if that's all the reason she needs. To be fair, it is. She would hang out with him any time. But considering how Derek feels, it's probably best to include more people. At least for now.

"Wow. Convincing." She scoffs, lightheartedly.

"And Gem." He jokingly scowls back. "And Roxie, if you want to invite her."

"Well, in that case…" She teases, pretending to ponder all the information she's just been given. One thing she does actually wonder is if she should mention the man she's been dating. If she should include him, too. It's Harry's invitation. He doesn't seem to be the biggest fan of Derek, who seems to reciprocate the feeling, so it's probably best not to. Besides, she has seen a lot more of Derek lately than the others, and she can have a night out with just her friends if she wants. "Count me in!"

•••

Despite the new limited capacity inside, the pub seems to be filled with noise and laughter, and as she walks up to the secluded booth filled with her friends, Cassidy can't help but feel as if this is something she's been needing. Though, it's probably something that most people have been needing, ever since the world practically shut down.

There's probably not enough gratitude she can express for this venue allowing small groups of people, masked until they are seated, to get together and slowly get back a bit more freedom. And just as much, she is thankful for Harry's invitation to a night out.

"There she is!" Gemma exclaims, causing each person's head to swivel in her direction. "Is Roxie coming?"

"No, she couldn't make it."

"Well, nice of you to join us." Harry adds, instantly receiving a friendly glare from her.

"Hey! I had to try to explain to Cece why she couldn't come and hang out with us." She shakes her head, almost exhausted from the fifteen minute conversation she had with her 3 year old before she left.

"She just wants to be with her bestie…"

"Yeah and I still can't figure out why." She chuckles, sliding into the spot at the end of the seat, next to Gemma.

"You must be Cassidy then." She hears from the middle of the group, turning and meeting the gaze of the brunette smiling back at her.

"I am! You must be Sarah." She smiles, reaching across the table as best she can to shake hands. Her gaze moves over a few inches to see a quiet, brunette man, with the smallest of smiles on his face, barely detectable as he makes eye contact. "And you must be Mitch."

"Yep." He responds, reaching his own hand out for a quick shake.

"Nice to meet you both." She states, settling back down in her seat. As her gaze flickers over to Harry, she sees his lips pulled slightly to his left in a subtle smirk, as if proud that they've all finally met. Though, the funny thought crosses her mind that he might not be so happy about the situation if and when she corrects any ridiculously inaccurate stories he's already told them. "I hear I have some childhood memories I need to straighten out."

"That was a joke, Cass."

"They still deserve to know the truth." She smirks, seeing his grow a little wider with amusement. "But first, I need a drink."

•••

As Harry buries his face in his palms, the rest of the group erupts with laughter, unfortunately for him it's at his expense.

"My mum never intended for him to wear that dalmatian costume for two more years…" Gemma states, expanding on the story they've been engrossed in.

"It didn't even fit him anymore. The hem of the bottoms came halfway up his shins!" Cassidy adds, trying hard to catch her own breath.

"Alright. Alright." Harry lifts his head, giving it a shake as he gives his sister a glare.

"Sorry little brother." Gemma states.

"It's a fun memory!" Cassidy adds, regaining control of her breaths. As it settles, she focuses on him, seeing a sheepish smile on his face.

"Yes, yes. They've all been so fun." He proclaims sarcastically.

"Well, fun for us…" She responds, pointing between herself and her best friend. Harry purses his lips with a squint of his eyes, causing Cassidy to lift her almost empty glass for a sip, to fake some innocence. Though, she knows he's unbothered by it. He was the one to create this situation after all.

She feels a buzz under her hand, and she flips her palm over to unlock her phone, opening the new message she has just received.

🗨️Derek: hey beautiful, having fun?

🗨️Cassidy: yeah, loads!

"What about secrets? I'm sure you've got some good ones to share about this guy that most people don't know!" Sarah asks.

She closes out of the texts, turning off her screen to think over Sarah's question. For a second, Cassidy believes she doesn't have any, only funny stories to embarrass the guy. However, only a moment later, she is reminded of the one secret they share. The one no one else knows. The one where their bodies were entangled in a sweaty mess in his hotel room. Twice. The one that cannot and will not be shared with anyone else. Especially not at this table, with this crowd. Especially not with Gemma, her best friend and his sister, sitting right beside her.

Her eyes shoot up to his, noticing his lips pulled inward in anticipation. Or maybe worry. Clearly, though, he was reminded of the same thing as he stares at her with wide eyes.

"Umm…" She stalls, watching him squirm in place as she feels her heart begin to race. What can she even say? Her delayed response is only going to make things more uncomfortable, and maybe even begin to look suspicious. She has got to think of something to say, and thankfully, to her extreme relief, she thinks of one other thing to share. "I do know… one thing…"

"Ca-... Cass…" He utters nervously, and quietly, potentially hoping to be unheard by the others, and plead with her not to share their intimate secret. He shouldn't be worried, she wants to keep that locked away as much as he does. Maybe even more.

"When he was younger, Harry had a crush…" She begins in a teasing manner, noticing his eyes squeeze shut. "On his teacher, Mrs. Hamilton."

His eyes shoot open with surprise, and possibly even gratitude, despite her statement being of utter humiliation for him.

"How did you-"

"I overhead you singing some cutesy little made-up song about her one day."

"You did not!" Gemma squeals, a question rather than a defense for him.

"Most boys have a crush on a teach-"

"She was 50 years old, H!" His sister interrupts, causing his hands to return back into his palms as he growls in embarrassment.

"She had a nice smile." He whimpers, and Cassidy can just make out the red blush on his cheeks.

Despite it being a mild admission, she does feel bad for revealing the information, so she takes a deep breath and reaches towards him, placing the tips of her fingers on his for encouragement.

"I… had a crush on Mr. Peters…"

"Oh god!" Gemma exclaims, her palm hitting her forehead as fast as the words leave her lips. "That's just as appalling."

"He had a nice smile, too." She adds, watching Harry lift his head and chuckle, sending an almost appreciative glance with his glistening green eyes. She feels a tickle on her cheeks as a pink hue undoubtedly begins to surface, so she pulls her hands back and straightens herself. "And now I need another drink!"

"I'll get it." Sarah states, bumping Mitch on the arm, causing him to do the same to Harry. "My shout, I'll pay, as a thanks for giving up all those details about H!"

As Harry stands, he rolls his eyes and steps aside, letting his friend out of the booth. Sarah winks as she walks away, and Cassidy feels a nudge on her own arm.

"I need to use the toilet." Gemma utters, causing Cassidy to slide off from the seat and allow her friend to slide by.

Another vibration from her phone grabs Cassidy's attention as she reclaims her seat, and she opens it up to see a couple more messages have just come in.

🗨️Derek: how long will you be there?

🗨️Derek: was hoping to come by after

Cassidy rereads his question, unsure as to why it seems to suddenly, but only slightly, bother her. He knew she was going out with her friends tonight, and that the two of them didn't have any plans together. But nonetheless, she supposes it should be considered sweet that he still wants to see her.

🗨️Cassidy: not sure, maybe an hour or 2

🗨️Derek: oh, really? okay

She places her phone back down onto the table and sighs, thinking that maybe she should have actually included Derek in this get-together.

"You good?" She hears next to her, coming from that familiar and deep voice of her friend, apparently now sitting next to her. She looks up to find his curious, maybe even concerned, expression waiting for her answer.

"Yeah, I'm good." She nods, but it doesn't seem to ease the tension in his features.

"Is it Cece?" He asks, scooting just a little closer as his eyes float down to the device in front of them.

"No, no, she's fine. Our neighbor is over at our flat to watch her. And she's in bed anyway." She replies, inhaling a deep breath and feeling an odd, random sense of comfort as his cologne hits her senses. "It's actually Derek texting me."

Harry's body tenses, very apparent to her, but maybe not so much to his other friend Mitch who is now listening to something on his own phone. She wishes she knew exactly why Harry reacts that way every time she mentions the man she's seeing. If she knows what it is that bothers him, maybe she can fix it.

"Right. And, umm…" He unclamps the clip that has been holding his hair back, and runs his fingers through as he tussles it around. "Did he not want to come out tonight?"

"I didn't invite him." She unintentionally blurts out, no longer able to cultivate a better reply.

"Oh." He utters, and Cassidy catches a small upward tug of his lips, which he immediately attempts to retract. "Why's that?"

"I just wanted a night out with my friends." She shrugs, doing her best not to react to his true, yet subtle, expression of happiness at Derek's absence. "He can come to the next one."

"Sure." He nods, stretching his long, tattooed arm across to grab his glass, instantly bringing it to his lips for a taste of the contents. Cassidy rolls her eyes, though only internally, at the underlying tone to his statement, no matter how hard he's trying to cover it up.

Another notification buzzes through, and she hears an exhaled scoff from the man beside her, slightly muffled by the edge of the glass still pressed between his lips.

🗨️Derek: text me later then

🗨️Cassidy: i will

She relocks the screen once again, setting the phone into her bag to focus on the friends in front of her. She meets Harry's gaze to find him smiling, potentially the biggest smile of the whole night.

"What?"

"I'm just glad we all get to hang out." He shrugs, a timid innocence drawn with his words.

"Really? Even though I'm counteracting this alternative reality you seem to have created for your other friends?" She chuckles, nudging his side gently with her elbow.

"Yes. Despite that." Harry responds, running his thumb along his bottom lip. "It's fun to reminisce…"

"Yeah. You're right." She agrees. "Turns out not all of my childhood memories were so bad."

[ flashback - September 1999 ]

Sitting atop her fluffy pink quilt, her little fingers picking at the nails of each hand, Cassidy waits for someone to enter her bedroom. She doesn't know who it will be. She doesn't know who she wants it to be. But what she does know, even at the age of 6, is that whatever she just walked into was something she wasn't meant to see.

"CJ?" She hears spoken softly, accompanied by a gentle knocking on her door. Her shoulders drop, feeling a little calmer as to who is on the other side.

Her mother slowly opens the door, keeping that quiet, calm demeanor as she steps inside and closes it behind her, allowing it to be just the two of them in the conversation.

"I'm sorry if me and your dad scared you." Her mother states solemnly, taking a seat on the bed and stroking her daughter's hair in comfort. "We were… having a little disagreement…"

"You were yellin', and yellin' is bad." Cassidy responds quickly, and so matter-of-fact, showing off how well she really does know the rules of the house.

"I know, darling, I'm sorry."

"I didn't like it."

"I know, I'm sorry…" Her mother sighs, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "We shouldn't have been so loud."

Cassidy leans into her mother's chest, feeling warmth and comfort appear as she is wrapped up in the hug.

"Mummy?"

"Yes?"

Cassidy pulls her head back, innocently looking into her mother's eyes.

"Daddy shouldn't have hit you. Hittin' is bad, too." She furrows her brow, remembering her father's hand smack across her mother's face as Cassidy entered the kitchen earlier in the evening. "I didn't like that either."

"I know. I'm sorry, CJ." Her mother pulls Cassidy's body back to her, the hold a little tighter this time. "He was… upset. I made a mistake and… well, anyway, I'm alright. Okay? I'm alright."

"Okay." She nods, feeling a hot breath on her hair, causing another question to want to wiggle its way out. "Umm… Mummy…"

"Yes, darling?"

"Will… will he-... what if I make-"

"CJ." Her mother states, pushing back to stare into her daughter's eyes, showing such a sincerity that even the young girl can understand it. "You don't have to worry. No one will hurt you."

[ present day - August 2020 ]

As Cassidy enters through the doors to the lift of her building, she realizes she hadn't sent a text to the babysitter, letting her know that she was on her way.

"Damn it." She mumbles, reaching inside of her bag to retrieve her device, hoping she didn't miss any important messages.

As she unlocks the screen of her phone, she is met with multiple notifications, and feels guilt poke at her heart for not checking it sooner.

Her finger presses to open the app and her breath halts momentarily as she realizes that every message is from one particular person.

🗨️Derek: have you left the pub?

🗨️Derek: are you back yet?

🗨️Derek: can you please text me

🗨️Derek: when will you be home?

🗨️Derek: Cassidy where are you?

Eyes growing wide and the noise of the lift reaching her floor pulls her attention away as the doors begin to open.

She steps out, her gaze adjusting down the corridor towards her flat, and notices someone sitting by her door.

"What the…" She utters quietly, catching up with her thoughts as she catches the attention of the visitor. "Derek? What th-... what… are you doing here?"

The man scrambles to his feet and instantly stands tall, the expression on his face being one of concern. No, it's not one of concern, it's one that is concerning. To her.

"I told you that I wanted to come by."

"Right, but… Derek, I-... I was out with my friends…"

"I know. You said you'd be back in an hour or two, so I made my way over." He shrugs, as if this shouldn't be a surprise to her at all. As if this was always the plan for the night. "You took a bit longer than you said though."

"You've… you've just been… waiting out here?" She watches as Derek nods, swift and simple, yet not doing anything to subside the shock and confusion that's chaotically taken over her brain. "Umm… l-let's just… go inside."

She reaches into her bag and the quiet jingle of keys captures her focus enough to unlock the door and slowly push it open.

"We need to be quiet. Cece is asleep." She whispers over her shoulder, hearing a hum of acknowledgement behind her.

They both step through the doorway, and Cassidy's neighbor stands up from the sofa.

"How was she, Mrs. Clarkson?"

"She was great." The lady smiles. "Went down for bed pretty easily too.'

"Well, thank you so much for watching her tonight. I really appreciate it." Cassidy states, more than grateful to have finally gotten to know her neighbor a few weeks ago, and the woman's offer to take care of Cecelia whenever she was needed.

"It's no problem. Cece is so fun and so sweet. It was my pleasure." Mrs. Clarkson states and suddenly glances behind Cassidy, seemingly noticing the man standing a foot or two away. "Well… I suppose I better be off then."

Mrs. Clarkson nods at the both of them, grabbing a small bag and shuffling towards the door.

"Are you sure I can't give you some mon-" Cassidy tries to ask, despite their earlier conversation, before her night out even began.

"You are just as sweet as your daughter. But I'm sure." Her neighbor swivels around, one hand up in front, the other on the doorknob, and a smile on her face. "I'm here to help, if and when you need me. Enjoy your night."

"Thank you." Cassidy replies, watching the woman walk out, closing the door, and seeming to take the positive vibes with her. Her previous confusion and frustration reappear instantly as she turns her attention back to Derek. "What is going on? Why did you come over?"

"A guy can't just want to see his girl?" He asks, a sarcastic tone to his voice, and his arms across his chest.

"That's not what I'm saying. But tonight was about me spending time with my friends."

"And am I not good enough to hang out with them, too?"

"What? It's not that… you…" Cassidy exhales forcefully, confusion clouding her mind enough to prohibit any complete thought or sentence to be formed. She still has no grasp of an idea as to why he's there or what's going on. "I just… wanted to spend time with my friends."

"Right. Without me." Derek replies, his entire body becoming noticeably more tense as she sees his palms curl into fists.

Cassidy pulls her lips inward, not wanting to say something she may regret, though she isn't even sure what she would say anyway. This entire conversation, and situation in general, is throwing her for a loop.

Thankfully, a buzz from her phone gives her some relief, pulling it out and using the new message as a chance to momentarily reset herself.

🗨️Harry: did you get home safe?

Her thumbs touch the screen to respond, yet the word 'yes' becomes a jumbled array of extra letters as she feels her phone being snatched out from her grasp.

Her mouth drops open, unable to comprehend what has happened, and she shoots her gaze up to see Derek's scowl as he looks down at the device.

"Harry was there?" He growls.

"Derek, what the h-"

"I fucking get it now." He drops the phone back down into her still open hands and scoffs. "Now I see why I wasn't allowed to go."

"What?"

Derek steps closer, and a familiar feeling flows over Cassidy's body, though she doesn't have the speed and steadiness to determine what it is. But she knows it isn't a good one.

"You didn't want me there, because Harry was there."

"Why would that-"

"Because you love him! Don't you? You fucking love him and you lied to me!"

"Derek, Harry and I are just friends." Cassidy replies, quieting her volume in hopes that he will do the same, for the sake of Cecelia's sleep.

A few more steps and he is right in front of her, their toes almost touching. It's normally something that someone would want their significant other to do, but this is not one of the times, and an uneasiness courses through her veins.

"Are you fucking him?" He asks, his voice no more than a whisper, though the intensity in his tone has doubled.

"We've talked ab-"

"Answer the question, Cassidy." He growls, a darkness growing in his glare. "Are you fucking him?"

"No! I'm not!" She replies, her mind swirling in a daze, only providing the most inappropriate memory to manifest at this most inconvenient time. "It's been years since we-"

"Years? Years since… what? Since you two hooked up?" He groans, throwing his head back and running his hands over his face, scoffing at her unintended confession. "I knew it. I fucking knew it."

"It… it was a long… long time ago." She utters, surprising herself that any words came out considering the lump now lodged in her throat.

"Sure. And I'm supposed to believe that you two are 'just friends' now?" His body resets, and a hand suddenly flies forward to grip her arm, causing her body to stiffen, and as his other grabs her phone and throws it to the floor. "I call bullshit."

"Derek… please…" She whispers, her past beginning to surface in her thoughts and feelings.

"Please? Please what?" He mimics, bringing his free hand up to grab her jaw, and his face hovering right in front of hers. "Please forgive you? Please believe you?"

"P-please… let go…"

A little thud and shuffling of tiny feet grab the attention of both adults, sending worry down Cassidy's spine. She hoped it may have caused Derek to release his hold, but he tightens his grip and she whispers as a fear sets in.

"Mummy?" The sleepy little voice sounds out from the bedroom.

"I'll… I'll be r-right there, Bug." Cassidy manages to get out, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"Mummy?" Cecelia utters again, clearly having not heard her mum's response, or not understanding it in her drowsy state.

"Stay in your room!" She shouts, shakiness and panic unavoidable at this point, as she hopes it goes unnoticed. Not just by her daughter. "Please, stay in there!"

She hears Cecelia shuffle back to bed, and her cheeks become wet, undoubtedly leaving long black marks as the tears drop.

"You… you need to leave." She mumbles, unsure if her words even left her lips, but desperately hoping they did.

"You think I'd want to stay?" Derek scoffs. He pushes against the arm he holds tightly, releasing it as she begins to stumble and falls to the floor, landing right where her phone did moments before. "No. It's over. I'm done with you."

She watches through blurred vision as he turns and exits the flat, shuddering as the door slams shut, and desperately hoping it doesn't draw her daughter out of her bed again.

With her legs out to her side, and her palms pressed against the floor to prop herself up, she feels anything but steady. How did she end up there? Obviously, she knows Derek pushed her down, but how did things get so bad, so quickly?

A single knock and the sound of the front door opening has her reaching for her phone and beginning to scramble to her feet.

"Cassidy, it's alright." She hears the soft voice of her next door neighbor try to reassure her, and she collapses back to the ground as Mrs. Clarkson's arms wrap around her shoulders, bringing her into a gentle embrace. "I heard the yelling, and the door slam shut."

"I'm… I'm sorr-"

"Sh. Sh. No need to be sorry. I wanted to make sure you're okay." A soft palm runs over Cassidy's hair and the peaceful gesture alerts her to her racing heart and labored breath.

"Cece… she woke… can you…"

"I'll go check on her." Mrs. Clarkson states, pushing herself up. "Is there someone you can call to come over?"

Cassidy nods, not having a specific person in mind, but giving the acknowledgement nonetheless. Her neighbor walks away, and as she hears the door quietly creak open, she turns her daze covered eyes to her device.

She sees her open messages, pressing the call button and holding the phone up to her ear.

"Uh oh. Is this a drunk dial? Or are you ringing to make more fun of me? Because I don't know if I can take much more tonight." Harry chuckles, and in any other situation, Cassidy knows she would be too.

"H-Harry…"

"Yes…?"

"I… I need…" She stutters, trying her hardest to voice any request, any thought, any comprehendible word to help him understand anything she's trying to say. Anything through the choked back wail that's threatening to push through.

"Cass… what is it? What's going on?" He asks, a concerned tone growing with each word.

"Derek… he…"

"What did he do? Where is he? Is he still there?" Shuffling can immediately be heard from the other end, and if Cassidy could put any extra thought into it, she would know he's putting shoes on.

"No." She whispers, feeling a mild amount of relief as she hears the beep of his car unlocking. But her breathing stays rapid and she clutches her chest with her free hand, as if to keep her heart in place.

"I'll be right there."

Her body begins to feel weak, her eyes begin to glaze over even more, and her hand drops down with a loose grasp on her phone. She hardly registers anything besides overwhelming dread and anxiety, though the feeling of her device leaving her hand can just barely be acknowledged. And then the faint sound of Harry's voice can ever so slightly be heard shouting through the speaker.

"Cass? Cass!"

"Hello?" Another voice speaks, gentle and calm, belonging to Mrs. Clarkson.

The muffled noise from their conversation fades into the background and Cassidy is left with the sound of her fast heartbeats and even faster breaths.

"It'll be alright. He's on his way." She hears beside her. "Harry's on his way."

[ flashback - May 2005 ]

Cassidy sits on her bed and giggles as she watches her best friend twirl around the room in one of the dresses they found in the closet.

"This one should work." Gemma asks, stopping her motions and posing in front of the full length mirror that is propped up against the wall. "You're sure you're okay with lending it to me?"

"Of course!" Cassidy exclaims. "That's what best friends are for."

"Exactly." Gemma winks in reflection, taking one last look at herself before turning around to face her friend. "I need to use the toilet, and I'll change in there too."

The noise of the bathroom door sounds out and Cassidy pushes herself off the mattress, bending down to begin tidying up the multitude of outfits that did not satisfy the specific look that Gemma was going for.

A sudden thud causes Cassidy to jump in place, and her happy, fun demeanor is replaced with anxiety as she hears two voices from the front of the house. From her mum and dad. That means, their happy, fun day is about to turn chaotic, and they need to get out of there. Fast.

"No, no, no."

She drops the clothes and bursts out of her bedroom to the door across the way, bringing her fist up to gently, but vigorously, knock on the wood.

"Gem." She whispers, keeping her words and actions as quiet as possible. "Gemma."

"Alright. Alright. Hold on." She hears in a response, an unknowingly chuckle accompanying the words.

"Gemma. We've… we've got to go."

The door swings open, and Cassidy sees her best friend's curious yet playful expression turn to one of concern as loud voices begin to fill the house.

"What's-"

She's not even sure what her main concern is at this moment, but what she does know is that she wants to get out of there. She needs to get out of there. They both do. She grabs her best friend's hand, motioning for her to keep quiet and begins to maneuver through the house to the back door, while the yelling only increases in volume and intensity.

As they arrive at their exit point, Cassidy's palm grips the doorknob, but she feels Gemma's hand squeeze her own as a sharp noise booms, quickly followed by quiet whimpers.

"You stupid cunt!" The deep voice of her father yells, accompanied by another sharp smack.

"Oh my god." Gemma whispers, and Cassidy's heart sinks as they sneak out of the house. She feels hurt, because she knows her mum is now in pain, and she feels embarrassed, because her best friend now knows it too.

They round the corner of the home, hands still gripped onto each other, and Cassidy lets out an exhausted, but relieved exhale as they reach the footpath out front.

"Umm, so…" She hears, turning to face her best friend, but unable to meet her gaze.

"That… that was awkward, right?" She chuckles, hoping to play it off as normal as possible. "Sorry you heard my parents… having a bit of a… a small disagreement…"

"That sounded like it was way more than a small disagreement, CJ." Gemma replies, her usual confidence taken over by compassionate caution.

"Oh, no. It was nothing."

"I heard him call her a… a cunt… and I heard him… hit her."

"It's… I mean, they just…" Cassidy sighs, choking back the tears in a last ditch effort to keep her composure, though she has the awareness that it's truly failing.

"CJ." Gemma mutters the statement of her name, and the dam breaks. Her hands fly up to her face, knowing her reaction has already been seen, yet still wanting to disappear into nothing. It's bad enough that those 'disagreements' even occur, but having her best friend hear it, know about it, makes it that much worse. And also, that much more real. When no one else knew, at least Cassidy could pretend it didn't happen at all, or that it was just a bad dream. But now? Now someone else knows, now she can't hide it, and now she has to face the truth.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"Well…" Gemma begins, grabbing her friend's shoulders. "I think we should… can I at least tell my parents? Maybe they'll, like, let you stay over."

Cassidy looks right at her best friend, practically her sister, and finds the sincerest and most compassionate of expressions she's ever come across. She can only imagine how much deeper they would be from Anne and Robin. Though the thought of anyone knowing her secret terrified her before, something about Gemma, Anne, and Robin knowing makes her feel at ease. If she wanted anyone to know, it would be them. The family she's basically growing up with now as her own.

"Okay." She agrees, feeling nervous yet comfortable with the decision. "Just, please, don't tell your brother."

[ present - August 2020 ]

Cassidy can't tell if it has felt like mere seconds, or a full hour since Derek had stormed out, so the new knock at the door sends a shiver over her body.

It creaks open, and Cassidy glances over from her spot on the sofa to see Mrs. Clarkson standing cautiously in the small gap she has made between the door and the frame.

"Hello." She states solemnly.

"Hi. I'm Harry." He replies quickly, almost an urgency to his greeting.

The neighbor nods and opens the space wide enough for him to enter the flat. As soon as Cassidy sees his short tousled curls, the small amount of sweat framing his face, and the terrified anger shooting through the greens of his eyes, her gaze immediately falls down to her pathetically shaky hands.

The fragrance of his cologne hits her first, swiftly followed by the warmth of his palms on her thighs.

"Cass." Harry exhales, lifting her chin with his finger, and she looks up to find his gaze flickering all over her face at a desperate speed. His fingers push her hair back on each side, and his thumbs brush over her skin as if searching for the answers. "Are you alright?"

Her brow furrows in uncertainty of how to answer. Sure, she is physically fine, despite the pending bruise that will most likely form from Derek's tight grip on her arm. But her heart, mind, and soul are in pieces. Not over Derek, per say. No, what hurts is the fact that this happened at all, that she let it happen, that she didn't see it coming in the first place. What hurts is that she has been in that situation before, years ago as a child, and still saw no signs in her most recent relationship. But what hurts the most, is the thought of what might have happened if her daughter had not stayed in her room.

"Cass. Breathe with me. Inhale for ten, remember?" His soft voice encourages, though the perceived gentle tone is wrapped with wavering confidence. "Cassidy… please, breathe with me."

Would Cecelia have seen what was happening, and understood? Would Derek have hurt her even more with her daughter present? Would he have hurt her daughter?

Pain and guilt strike every nerve in her body. She, of all people, should have seen signs. She, of all people, should have been able to avoid that situation. She, of all people, should have been able to keep that potential danger out of her child's life.

"C-... Cece…"

"Cece is fine. She's asleep. Mrs. Clarkson just checked on her before she left." She hears the words, though muffled by her racing thoughts. Warmth covers her cheeks again and her head begins to tilt by Harry's hand, raising her blurry gaze to find one of pure concern. "Cass, look at me. Cece is fine."

"I… let… let him… around her." She begins, eyes filling, unbelievably, with even more tears. "I let him… around my daughter!"

A silence fills the room, leaving only Harry's calm breaths left to encourage the regulation of her own. The heat on her cheeks travels to her hands, and she looks down to see them wrapped up in his.

"Inhale for ten." He whispers, taking a breath with her. "And let it out."

"I'm-"

"Please, love. Breathe." He demands in the most tender way, causing her gaze to shoot back up to his. "Breathe with me."

She nods, taking in air with Harry and holding it in as he holds her hands.

"I'm so… stupid." She states, releasing an exhale as she finally feels her lungs open and her chest release the tight hold it has around her heart.

"You're not stupid."

"I should have known." Her brow furrows, an anger towards herself rising to replace her panic as she catches more breaths. "And what's worse? I liked him. I mean… there were things that bugged me, things I questioned a little… but I kept seeing him!"

Harry's hands squeeze her own, so subtly, and she hears his throat clear as he pulls them away. His body moves around and takes a seat beside her, his elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped together.

"You just… wanted someone… to share life with." He utters sombrely.

"The wrong someone."

"They're all 'the wrong someone' until we find the right one…" He states, a little chuckle following his words, clearly a little pleased with how philosophical his statement came across.

Cassidy releases an amused exhale and feels the tension of her body begin to loosen.

"And even then…" He adds, giving a small yet noticeable shrug. "Love is… complicated."

"I wasn't in love." She instantly replies, certain of that fact, even with the night's events aside. "I've… I've actually never been in love."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Harry's posture straighten and his gaze shoot over to her.

"Really?"

She is unsure as to why, but his sudden reaction and the following question have her feeling embarrassment flood over her.

"Have you?"

"I think so." He replies, his hand reaching up and fingers readjusting the clip on his curls.

"Isn't that something you should know?" She asks, watching as his lips pull inward, and noticing something she has very rarely seen in him, if at all. Vulnerability.

"Is it really love if…" He releases a subtle sigh, and as she looks over, she sees him begin to twist his fingers of one hand around those of the other, as if his rings were still adorning them. "If… it's not reciprocated?"

Cassidy opens her mouth with nothing to say. She's never felt that way about somebody. Anybody. The relationship that should have been her example for love had all but destroyed the hopes she had for finding it. She may not even know how to do it properly. Then when Cecelia came along, there wasn't really a need for it. Though that is a different love. Nonetheless, she feels sad for Harry. Knowing how generous and caring he is with his friends and family, with her and Cecelia, she can only imagine how much more he would give to someone he felt that strongly for. And for it to not be returned? She's surprised he hasn't given up hope. She sure wants to, the little she even had to begin with.

"You… probably shouldn't ask me…" She utters, wrapping her arms around to hold herself, and staring down as her fingers gently run over the large red mark that's been left behind.

"Okay. I won't." He states suddenly, slapping his palms against his thighs and pushing himself off of the sofa. Cassidy looks up to him with surprise and curiosity, seeing the formation of a mischievous little smirk. "I'll make us some tea instead."

He walks into the kitchen, doing his best not to clang things around as he retrieves two tea cups from the cabinet and adds water to the kettle.

"You know what though? We're forgetting something…"

"And what's that?" Cassidy asks, repositioning herself to get him into view.

"We are married."

Her eyebrow instantly raises, and her eyes flicker all over the room in an attempt to gather some sort of clarification, though obviously unable to do so.

"I'm sorry… what?"

"Shit. I'm an idiot." He replies sheepishly, a pink hue evident under the kitchen lights. "Of course, you don't remember."

"Remember what?" She inquires, only to be met with a timid shake of his head as the colour on his cheeks grows brighter. "Clue me in, Harry."

"Nope, there's been too many trips down memory lane recently, most at my expense."

"No, you have to tell me! Please?" She asks, channeling the sweetest her daughter uses whenever she needs persuasion to tip the scales in her favour.

He closes his eyes and pulls his lips inward, and Cassidy can't help but giggle under her breath as she watches him prepare to respond.

"Alright. Well, one afternoon, when we were kids… you and Gem were playing fairies." He shares, followed by a sort of grunt as he takes in a breath to divulge more. "Gem wanted to have this elaborate fairy wedding, so she made you the princess… the bride… but you needed a groom. So she found me and-"

"Dressed you up to be the fairy prince!" Cassidy exclaims, immediately covering her mouth in an effort to quiet her new excitement. "I do remember now! Didn't she put glitter all over your face?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't remember that specific detail…" He gripes, pouring the hot water into the cups, and lifting them as he starts to walk back to the sofa. He hands the hot beverage to Cassidy, and carefully lowers himself back down next to her, taking a sip of his tea before resting it down on the table in front of him.

"Well, the wedding was pretty magical." She states. Harry lifts his head, turning it slightly towards her with a proud smile stretched across his face.

"Bit of a rocky marriage though." He points out, and Cassidy's jaw drops dramatically as she swats his arm, causing his hands to be thrown up in surrender.

"That's because the prince was, and still is, kind of a twat."

Harry mimics her offended reaction, his hand flying to this against his chest, as if physically pained by her insult.

"The princess is still kind of a pain in the ass herself."

"Well, thank goodness it wasn't official!"

"Umm, excuse me, but if I remember correctly, the ceremony was done with a magic wand." He states, so matter-of-fact. "That's binding."

"Oh bloody hell." She replies, pinching the bridge of her nose, annoyed but mostly amused by the declaration.

"You're stuck with me, Cass." Harry grins, most likely from his perceived triumph of the argument, yet Cassidy can't help but feel as if he is happy with the sentiment as well. With the notion that she has to put up with him and have him around, in some capacity, forever.

She wants to lean into her instincts and make some jab about how she regrets ever putting on the fairy tutu Gemma had made her wear. But as she focuses on the green of his eyes, she feels a heat run up her neck and hit the apples of her cheeks. She's flattered by his desire to continue to be friends throughout the rest of their lives, and she has to agree that she wants the same. Despite all of their childhood torment of each other, he truly has become one of her best friends, and she can't really envision him not being around. For her and for Cecelia.

A sudden thud from the corridor outside of her flat causes Cassidy's gaze to shoot over to the front door, her lungs to gasp, her arm to swiftly stretch out to her side, and her hand to latch right onto Harry's thigh.

"Hey, it's alright." She hears him say softly, her eyes unable to focus on anything but the front door. One strong, warm palm sets on top of hers, the other begins to run up and down her back, tearing her gaze away and back onto the man beside her. The friend beside her. "You're alright."

She feels her expression go from panicked to pained, and she feels hot tears trickling down her cheeks. Another feeling, an odd feeling, begins to overwhelm her, as if her body is being pulled between alarmed tension and settled ease. The noise outside has clearly triggered an unfortunately familiar response, and yet somehow it is also being so effortlessly drawn to a comforted state. By Harry.

"Would you like me to stay for a bit? We can watch a show or something."

Cassidy nods, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins, though the intensity is decreasing as she watches Harry's caring gaze stay fixed on her, almost displaying relief with her unspoken response.

"Okay, then." He replies, pulling his lips inward, attempting to disguise a small smile that still manages to peek through by the corners of his mouth. He leans forward, grabbing the remote, and settling back into the cushions as he turns the television on.

Cassidy watches him while he scrolls, and something about such a mundane moment begins to bring her a slight amount of peace. She realizes that he seems to be one of the people, one of only a few people, who does that for her. Who actually can do that for her. And she needs all the peace she can get right now.

"Harry?" She practically whispers.

"Yes?" He replies, the light of the screen brightening his face and reflecting in his eyes as he scrolls through the viewing options.

"Would… would you… maybe, also…" She utters, clearing her throat to gain some volume, and confidence, for her next request. "Stay the night?"

His head immediately turns to her, his eyes wide, yet leaving her unable to determine what emotion is behind them. What thoughts could be causing them to react that way.

"Of course I will!" He exclaims, and more tears start to gather on her lash line at how quickly he answered, and how willing he is to do what she wants. What she needs.

He turns away, reaching to the other side of him, and twists back with one of her large blankets in hand. Cassidy scoots closer to Harry as he holds it up for her, allowing him to place the blanket on both of their laps. His arm stretches behind her on the back on the sofa, and without thinking, she leans into him, the movement of their adjustments causing her senses to be hit with his scent. It's the same as it's always been, but tonight it includes an increased, soothing element.

A few muffled noises outside momentarily grab her attention, her head slightly pointing in the direction of their origin on the other side of her front door. She lets out an exhale, louder than intended, and then feels the slightest squeeze around her shoulders.

"Are you alright? Comfortable?"

"As much as I can be, I suppose." She chuckles, accompanied by a scoff of disappointment and frustration, wishing she was able to truly calm down.

"You can… sit back up if you need to…" He utters, and she feels him begin to slowly pull away. "I can grab another blanket, or-"

She sits up, but only slightly, and only so she can meet the green eyes that are now filled with concern and uncertainty.

"No, it's not that. I just… I just don't know if I'll be able to relax fully here." She responds with a sigh, acknowledging that the events of the evening have taken their toll on her physical and mental state.

"Stay with me, then."

"What?"

"Come stay at my place."

"Harry, it's way too late." She states, confused as to his thought process behind the suggestion. "And Cece is sleeping."

"Not tonight." He replies, a bit of amusement to his tone. "Tomorrow. Pack up some things for the both of you, and just spend a few days there."

"I don't know. I don't want to impose-"

"You're not. I offered." He interrupts, seemingly annoyed yet entertained by her attempt to not inconvenience him, despite his constant reminders that she's not. This situation just feels a bit different for her. He's not responsible for making this situation any better. Yet, here he is, doing just that.

"And it's very sweet." She smiles, unintentionally, and feels a heat on her cheeks as he smiles back. "But also unnecessary. We'll be okay."

"Truth be told… I need it." He begins, bringing his balled up fist to his mouth as he clears his throat. "I won't be able to fully relax, unless I can see it… see that you're okay."

Cassidy is instantly hit with so many things at once. Her lips shut tight as she tries to swallow the lump that has instantly formed in her throat, her face tingles with the vibrant blush that has suddenly spread from her cheeks, and her abdomen tightens with something she can't quite understand.

"It would help me." He utters, a sudden timidity taking over the confidence he first used with his suggestion. "You don't have to."

"Well-" She tries to speak.

What is this feeling? What is going on in the pit of her stomach?

"But I'd like you to."

It's butterflies.

"Okay." She accepts, feeling her heart race with positivity, for the first time tonight. "If you insist."

Series Masterlist

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[austinslounge]

So... The time as come. We can spill some tea, right? I'm talking about the Zendaya-Jacob-Kaia stuff. I don't know much, I only read rumors 'cause I really love Z. I remember I was shocking when in the first place I saw the Zendaya and Jacob pap pics, especially because she always has been private and I never liked him. And than, out of nowhere, he started dating Kaia, without any official announcement about the break up with Z. I don't know if rumors started with those pap pics, but I remember that someone said he cheated on Z on her birthday??? And correct me if I'm wrong, but he hadn't cheated on Joey King too? A cheater is a cheater and adding the rumors about the Lili-Cole-Kaia thing (I didn't know about this one, I recently find out) it seems a pattern. Am I miss something?

Oooo -- this is an interesting topic.

I'll spill!

I'm a fan of Zendaya, so I was following her relationship with Elordi back then, so I can only spill what I personally observed, and also what other fans in the fandom kind of felt during that time.

**DISCLAIMER -- This is just based on observation and what I've heard/seen circulating in the fandoms. Sip or Spit.

Click below 👇 to read more, if you dare lol:

Jacob & Joey

Yes, lots of Joey King fans feel that he cheated on Joey because Joey kind of alluded to it by some of her likes around the time of their split. She was liking a lot of cheating posts. 👀

Supposedly, word on the street is that Jacob had cheated on his Aussie gf with Joey. 😬

Jacob & Zendaya & Kaia

Jacob and Zendaya started dating after she and Tom broke up in 2019. Tom was spotted with some blonde chick in London, and then not too long after that, Zendaya started dating her Euphoria co-star Elordi. I think they got spotted in Greece sometime around August of 2019.

What's interesting is that Jacob met Kaia Gerber at some point the very next month in September of that same year at some fashion show/event.

It's funny, because around that time, Kaia and Tommy Dorfman (I think he's trans now?) used to hang out a lot together, and now, you almost never see her with him/her. Not sure what happened. Anyway, so Jacob used to be seen at the same events that Kaia was at, and he was always hanging out with her and her friends. Other fans of Zendaya and I all thought that was pretty sus. 👀

Link

At one party, Jacob was even seen flirting with Kaia on video, all while he's dating Zendaya and had just been papped in NYC kissing her in Feb 2020 (so they were definitely official).

In all honesty, those papped pics with the Elordi/Zendaya kiss all looked pretty staged to me, but we're not going to get into that lol. 👀/

Around early September, Zendaya fans noticed Jacob (who had now come back to the states from Australia during covid) hanging out with Kaia Gerber again, and it was at this point we knew for a fact that he and Zendaya had split up. We weren't even shocked to see Kaia and Jacob together tbh because we all saw signs that he was always hanging around her even while he and Zendaya were dating.

By March 2020, as we all know, the global pandemic hit, and Jacob flew off to Australia, and we all know what happened after that. 👀

Next thing we know, Jacob flew to LA in September, and guess who he's spotted with???

You guessed it! KAIA GERBER.

This article above from E! came out when they got spotted out, and they were still trying to pretend that they were just friends, but we fans knew what was up. 😒

Jacob didn't cheat on Zendaya on her birthday, it's just that those pictures of Kaia and Jacob came out on Zendaya's birthday (or around her birthday), so that's why some fans assumed that he cheated on her birthday.

Most fans and I feel that Jacob and Zendaya actually split up months before it was common knowledge, and before he even stepped foot back on US soil. We all know he was keeping in touch with Kaia all throughout their relationship though.

There's no way you're jumping right to another woman when you first step foot back in LA unless you've been chatting her up for a while before you even get back into the country.

That's another reason why I don't trust Kaia. Too many weird sus things follow her around. Then I also remember the whole weird Cole Sprouse/Lili breakup and how she was around that whole thing too. 🥴 The girl is sus.

Another thing that's weird ---- Kaia and Elordi were spotted the last time together at some Halloween party back in 2021.

The next thing you know, she and Elordi have split up, and she's immediately spotted with and dating Austin Butler in early December 2021.

I'm sorry, but if you're moving on that fast from your boyfriend of a year and immediately already out with some other guy almost less than a month later, you can't tell me that there wasn't some type of overlap, or you got hooked up by somebody.

I personally kind of wonder if Kaia had her eye on Austin for a while (maybe ever since the Lily Rose fling) 👀, and dropped Elordi for a chance with Austin. Jacob himself also moved on pretty quickly as well, and they both had articles come out on the same day with their new respective significant others. (Again, weird!) I just find it strange that we still to this day don't know how Austin and Kaia even met each other (maybe mutual friends?), but I suspect Kaia and Co. pulled some strings because they don't even fly in the same circles like that lol. Not to mention the stark age difference between the two of them. 🥴 She was only 20 guys. At least she and Elordi were in the same circles and were attending the same events together before they dated. There is photo evidence. So their pairing made more sense. With Austin, it's like, there was nothing, and then BAM! All of a sudden they're pictured together lol. 😅

So anyway -- that's all the tea I have for today. Thanks for stopping by for Tea Time at Austin's Lounge lol. 🤭

[bansheeoftheforest]

I see you are asking for oneshot requests! Might I offer; truth serum but Jekyll isn't drunk this time, and the Lodgers have to deal with the guilt of their founder actively panicking as he spills his secrets. (Bonus: Jekyll trans reveal + Ito loudly stating her support of him/him reconciling with the Lodgers)

!!!!! I am DEFINTIELY Rusty and realized now that I am finished that I could have probably moved this in a different direction, but I hope the wait was worth it and that you'll enjoy this oneshot!! :D

also pls tell me if there are any mistakes because I've been trying to read through this a million times and I've forgotten how to post fics- help-

———————————————————

Title name: Secrets To Be Found

Wordcount: 4989

Summary: As Virginia Ito tries to keep her mentor calm during a day of anxiety, Dr. Ranjit Helsby and Mr. Seward Griffin decide that it is time to get some truths out of their founder.

Relationships: Robert x Jekyll (mentioned), Morcant x Jekyll (mentioned)

CW: Unconsenting drug use, internalized transphobia, transphobia

———————————————————

Helsby was up to something. 

  The man was a gossip, and by extension, he was always in someone else’s business, trying to find out more and more in an almost deliberate attempt to get his curiosity killed. Dr. Jekyll had never liked it, never liked it when the older man would smirk and grin, like he knew something you didn’t, which he often did. It was uncanny already, but this time... He did not like what his gut feeling was telling him. 

  He had tried to wave it all off, when it first started happening earlier this week. When Helsby would throw smug glances towards Griffin, as if silently communicating. He did not have any capacity to care much about either of them, he would not have cared if Griffin was the target of Helsby’s plot, yet he knew that that wasn’t the case. Griffin was a recluse even among the Lodgers, his temper and chronic migraines often kept him from forming any sort of positive connection with any of them, and so his sudden friendship with Helsby was... Concerning. His own suspicion was not quelled when a handful of days passed and their dubious behaviour only seemed to get worse.

  Safe to say, Dr. Henry Jekyll was nervous. 

  He forced himself to ignore this -probably imaginary- plot, and yet he had woken up with a horrible feeling within his very bones. He wasn’t really sure what it was, something within him was just... Jittery. Something was crawling inside of him but it was nothing he could put a finger on. He was almost certain that it wasn’t Hyde, as he had, in his own way, been quite calm and genuine the last few days, at least not seeming like he knew what was up with Jekyll or their body. He was not a stranger to anxiety, of course; but his anxiety normally came from something, it hadn’t come up without a reason in years, and that thought alone almost made him more nervous. Perhaps there was a reason, but really, why would he be nervous if Helsby and Griffin simply had a little prank planned? He could almost be certain he would not be at the receiving end, and yet...

  The anxiety had only worsened during the day, perhaps solidified by a familiar, nauseating feeling within his body; a dysphoria in which everything within and regarding his body felt wrong, no matter what he changed or how much he had convinced those around him that he was a perfectly normal man. Deep down, he felt- or perhaps knew- that he wasn’t. His jaw was not angled enough, his waist was too thin, his hips were too wide and his hair was too long- otherwise obscure details to his appearance which now felt like tell-tale signs of his biological sex. Perhaps that was what had caused the anxiety; the very fear that someone, at some point, would find out, and especially so when he knew- or assumed- that Helsby and Griffin were sniffing for vulnerable secrets. It wasn’t like he only had one skeleton in his closet, either. There were a myriad of things which someone could find out about him, which would inevitably ruin his life, and his imperfect body was merely one of those. 

  Regardless, the physical signs of his illness had manifested quite early and throughout the entire day. By breakfast, his hands had been shaking, and his cup of tea had slipped right out of his grasp and shattered onto the floor, making him jump as his heart practically galloped out of his chest. Before noon, another one of Luckett’s fires had gotten a bit too close to the chemistry lab, and while it had been nothing but a minor explosion, with minimal harm to equipment and no harm done to any of the Lodgers, it had still been enough to scare the doctor out of his boots and leave the anxiety in a thick lump in his throat. After noon, yet another bill came, another one that would be put in the “overdue” pile before the end of the week. Safe to say, Jekyll couldn’t wait for this day to be over. 

  It was evening now. The Lodgers had clearly noticed their founder’s jumpiness. They had asked, of course, but Jekyll didn’t have answers. He didn’t know why he was like this today, all he knew was that he had slept and he had not consumed anything out of the ordinary, he did not drink anything remotely caffeinated and so he could not have made himself into a pile shaking bones through overconsumption. Whether or not the Lodgers believed that was an entirely different question. He was just happy that Robert was not here to see him like this. He was not necessarily ashamed of his irrational nervosity, but he knew that Robert would worry and, quite frankly, not leave his side until he had gotten him to calm down. 

  ... 

  Perhaps that would have been a good thing, actually. 

  But it was too late now. Ito seemed to have sensed his nervosity, regardless. She was often a quite strict and stoic lady, but she could never help but to worry for her mentor, she seemed to sense his distrust and paranoia and had stayed close for most of the day, after the little explosion in the chemistry lab. Jekyll could get no work done today, and Virginia could not focus on her own work when her worry clouded her brain, and so they had spent the majority of the afternoon in Jekyll’s office. He laid down on his couch, one arm covering his eyes to block out the light in an attempt to rest, while Virginia stayed by his desk and looked through some of his old notes. Notes which he knew were safe, notes that she would be studying, as his junior. But it was getting late now, and Ito knew that Jekyll’s anxiety would not be made any better on an empty stomach. He had been reluctant, of course; he felt safer in his office, but Virginia did not want him to eat alone and there wasn’t enough space for the two of them to dine in here, so Virginia helped him up and linked their arms together as they left the office in search of the dining hall, where Rachel would have prepared today’s dinner. Jekyll could not help but look around in every corridor, as if afraid that someone was watching, or that something more would go wrong when he least expected it. He, of course, told Ito that it was just his nerves, and it was. It was not a lie, she knew it wasn’t a lie, but it sure as hell did not make her any less nervous. 

  They came right by rush hour. The dining hall was filled with chattering Lodgers, all behaving perfectly normal and no one seeming out of the ordinary. Mrs. Cantilupe and Miss Lavender met them with sympathetic ‘how are you feeling’s, and Luckett once more apologised for the day's mishap. The alchemists sat down by their own table, a bit further away from the rest. 

  Jekyll didn’t have an appetite. How could he, when his stomach was riddled with knots? The mere sight and smell of the food got him to feel full, but Ito had none of it, and left the table to get them both something to eat. She knew what her mentor liked and what would be good for him, after all, and she would make sure that he ate what he could.

  But then again, this also meant that she left Jekyll alone. 

  His hands rested on the table. One grabbed the wrist of the other, thumb against his veins where he managed to feel his own rapid heartbeat, and he continued to look around. As he was turned away, he soon felt the chair next to him move, and as he looked back, he was met with the grinning face of none other than Dr. Ranjit Helsby- possibly the last person Jekyll wanted to see today.

  “My good fellow!” he greeted, “how’s it going?” 

  Jekyll blinked, confusion already evident.

  “I... I’m sorry, did you need something?” 

  Helsby waved him off. He grabbed the teacup that was neatly placed by Jekyll, pulled a teapot into view from vaguely under the table and poured tea for the other doctor, before giving him back the cup.

  “Nothing at all! I just wanted to see how you were feeling, good sir.” 

  Jekyll squinted. Helsby -sarcastic, dramatic or not- never called Jekyll “Good” or “Sir”, and certainly not both in succession. Helsby was not quiet about his general dislike for Jekyll, or perhaps dislike was a strong word. He often thought that he was a toff, and he very clearly did not like the direction to which Jekyll was moving the Society, but that didn’t have to mean that he actively disliked him. Still, Henry did not trust his newfound politeness, and yet he also knew that it would only be terribly rude of him to dismiss the diplomacy which was now offered. He noticed that Helsby already had a cup of tea for himself, and as the other doctor raised his in a silent ‘cheers’, Jekyll had no choice but to smile politely and do the same, before taking a sip. As the liquid went over his tongue, he winced, doing his best to not cough up the metallic fluid right afterwards- what on earth was this abomination of a tea? He tried not to gag, really- it was absolutely foul-... He recognised it, he recognised the metallic taste and the sour smell- but from where? 

  He felt someone moving towards his right, soon Griffin slammed the palms of his hands against the table quite aggressively, making Jekyll jump and successfully gaining the attention of the Lodgers by the nearby tables.

  “Well well, Jekyll,” He said, smugness evident, “You would not mind telling us a few things, right?” 

  His grin left little to the imagination, less like a human smile and more like baring teeth, more like a threat. Jekyll almost sank back into his chair, his heart beating and beating like it was about to crack through his ribs. Still, he tried to act calm, and pressed out a forced smile. 

  “Whatever do you mean?” 

  By this rate, or perhaps by Griffin’s loud movements, the rest of the hall had fallen silent and the Lodgers’ attention was now on the three men. Virginia, who was just on her way back, quickly placed the plates with food down at the nearest table and rushed towards her mentor. It was in this moment that Jekyll recognised the liquid which had practically been forced upon him, and he felt the panic take hold of his body.

  Truth serum.

  But it was too late.

  “Jekyll, what are your biggest secrets?” 

  Something within Jekyll stirred, an involuntary feeling which was not unlike the one which rose when Hyde took over control- his tongue began to move, and the words began to spill from his lips faster than he could process what he was doing. 

  “I was born a woman.” 

  The men’s expressions were unreadable, yet Jekyll continued, spellbound.

  “I’m bisexual and I’ve been in love with Robert Lanyon for over 15 years.” the words practically tumbled out of his mouth, he barely processed what he had said as the next confession slipped out, “I was in an unhealthy relationship with an ancient werewolf named Morcant.” His heart continued to thrum, he could feel how his breathing quickened, “I don’t think I’m good enough for anything and I fantasise about throwing myself off of the cliffs of Dover but I’m way too busy to even entertain such a thought” He attempted to struggle, to shut up, but he was as paralyzed in his chair, until his last confession finally came out, “I’ve been hallucinating my minds most horrifying creatures for weeks and I am Edward Hyde.” 

  …

  Silence. 

  He was hyperventilating, now. Jekyll’s mind was an absolute mess, trying to process what had just happened- and yet the Lodgers around him just stared, mouths agape. He tried desperately to speak once more- any explanation, hell- any anger which he could throw towards the perpetrators- and yet he couldn’t. His vision- he hoped it was just panic- started to blur, and before he knew it, he had already pushed the chair away from the table, as he quickly got up and just ran, out of the room, into the corridors. 

  He heard yelling behind him. He heard rapid footsteps of Lodgers who tried to follow him. He was not sure where he was going, but he would rather be anywhere but near the Lodgers- his dear Lodgers to which he had split all his secrets, and Griffin and Helsby, who had drugged him and forced him into this. He had been drugged- just like that- His heart pounded within his chest, like a hare with a heart attack. Before he knew it, he was back in his office, slamming the door closed behind him and locking it from the inside, before the exhaustion took hold. His legs gave in, and he sank back against the door. He could barely process the footsteps that ran after him now stopping in front of the very office he hid in.

  “Jekyll? Henry! Henry- Please, open the door!”

  It was Virginia, banging on the door in hopes that he would, in fact, open up for her. He heard more footsteps as more Lodgers arrived, he could hear their various voices through the door. He pulled his knees up to his chest, attempting to hide his face despite there being no one to see him.

  “You BASTARDS!” 

  Virginia seemed to turn her attention away from the door. He could hear shuffling and high-pitched yelps.

  “How DARE you do this to him?! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELLS WERE YOU THINKING?!”

  “We didn’t think he- or she- or- whatever- was going to have THAT many secrets!” 

  “HE. Don’t you DARE call him by any different-” 

  “Hello? Did NO ONE hear that he confessed to BEING Hyde!?”

  As the third voice spoke, the commotion stopped, briefly, like they all started to properly think about the things he had said. Soon more Lodgers began to speak. 

  “...Well- he also said that he is a bisexual!” 

  “Yeah, but is anyone even surprised by that?” 

  “Should we not focus on the fact that he said he wanted himself DEAD?-”

  “Fantasising about jumping off cliffs is not the same!”

“Then what the HELL is it?” 

  Oh, God...

  He could try to escape. He could take the HJ7 and jump out of the window like he usually did, escape into the night and not come back- well... Not come back until he thought the Lodgers had calmed down, that is. At the same time, he felt paralyzed. To think that he had freely and openly admitted his deepest regrets to the Lodgers- Lodgers, who were now arguing about the severity of what he had said. At the same time, his mind was only filled with the shame of his very first and last confessions; he had not been a woman in multiple decades- if he ever was- but his body was itching by a need to practically pull off his own skin in an attempt to rid himself of what made him unmanly and a monster, of what made him the abomination he is, the horrid thing which the Lodgers now knew about. That was to not even mention that he had just told them everything- from his shameful love for Robert and his horrid affair with Morcant- he had told them that he created Edward Hyde. Why could he not have simply been allowed to forget it all? Why did they have to dredge up the past- could they not have let him keep his secrets? They had no right, yet they had taken that liberty, unaware or uncaring about the damage they had done. 

  His mind was a mess, still trying to grasp what had happened. He couldn’t help it when a sob broke free. He could barely hear the Lodgers outside quieting down, destroying any hope that they weren’t hearing his anguish.

  “Henry... Please, open the door. Griffin and Helsby are gone, we just want to help you.” 

  He didn’t believe it. He knew Virginia just wanted to help, but he did not believe for a second that the rest of the Lodgers wanted to. The others... He could barely imagine what they thought. Were they going to mock him? Or were they upset over the lies he had led them to believe? Would they blame this on him? Or perhaps some were already on their way to tell Frankenstein about what they had heard?

  He felt something push against the door, and then the sound of something sliding down. On the other side, Virginia mirrored his position.

  “Henry, I’m not leaving until you open the door. I can stay here all night if I need to.” 

  Through his tears, he couldn’t help but snort. As a Lodger, he only believed that she was staying to force more truth out of him, to shake out every last secret until he was nothing more than a sack of skin, but as his junior… Deep down, he could perhaps believe that she did care. It was confusing, yet a pleasant thought. He had no doubt that she would stay, she had always been stubborn, he couldn’t deny that. Whatever her true intentions were would, seemingly, not be revealed until he opened the door, but he was sure she wouldn’t stay that long...

...

He wasn’t sure how long they had stayed like this, now.

  It was darker outside. He was certain it had been at least a few hours since the mishap in the dining hall, the serum should have worn off by now. He had not dared to show himself since, he had not moved from his paralyzed place against the door, but he was quite sure Virginia hadn’t either.

  It was stupid, all of this. 

  He began to wonder if he had overreacted. Or perhaps underreacted. Griffin and Helsby had violated him in a way few could have managed… But he had no real choice, now. It was getting late, he had to open the door eventually and until then, he would be barricaded in his office, alone with nothing but his thoughts. He just wanted all of this to be over, even if it hurt. 

  He took a deep breath, and with shaky legs, he stood up and unlocked the door. 

  The sound of the lock and the push against the mahogany seemed to be enough to get Virginia to jump up and get away from the door, making Jekyll able to actually open it. She was ruffled, but she had indeed not left. He barely managed to fully open the door before she threw her arms around him.

  “Oh, Henry.” She murmured, her arms going tightly around his neck. She was not much shorter than him, but she still had to stand on her toes to be fully able to reach him. He could not help but melt against her, his own arms going around her waist as he buried his face in her shoulder. They did not often hug- he was her mentor, after all, and she did not like people touching her, but this felt... Nice. 

  After what felt simultaneously like too little and too much time, they parted, and Virginia placed her hands on Henry’s cheeks. Behind her, he could see the faces of various other Lodgers, who also had stayed, although he wasn’t necessarily sure why.

  “You don’t have to talk about anything, if you do not want to, but please, do not run away from us again.” 

  She didn’t necessarily sound heartbroken, but he knew her well enough to know that she most likely was. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

  “I’m... I’m sorry. Please, forgive me- for everything.” 

  She scoffed, shaking her own head in a gesture that seemed to only be aimed at herself. “I don’t think you have anything to apologise for”, she said. Her hands moved to straighten Jekyll’s cravat and waistcoat, equally ruffled from his stay on the floor. “What is important is that you are fine. Yes, there might be things that need some explaining, but that can wait. I have no doubt that you have good explanations for everything. ” 

  Jekyll took a deep breath, and looked around at the group of Lodgers- his Lodgers, who had waited for him. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about it, truly. He was not sure of their intentions, but today’s constant panic had left him... Indifferent, stoic. Like every emotion had been squeezed out of him. Yet, as he looked over the gentle faces of his Lodgers, he couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows.

  “...What happened to Griffin and Helsby?” 

  He glanced back at his apprentice, and watched as her expression hardened. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she forced herself to not get aggravated once more. 

  “I made sure they are now at the mercy of Rachel, after what they did to you.”

  Jekyll winced.

  “Good god.” 

  “Mmhm. Serves them right.” 

  The other Lodgers seemed to nod in agreement. They seemed unanimous that what the two men had done in the dining hall was violating and horrid, no matter if it just so happened to be Jekyll and not one of them. It was… Surprising, and yet comforting, almost. But he sighed, moved forward a little, before closing the door to his office behind him. Mirroring his previous actions, he sank back down to the floor, expecting this conversation to take a while. 

  “I... Guess you’d like some explanations.” He said, exhaustion and hesitance clear.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I do. You all already know and I... I want to be able to explain.” 

  Virginia didn’t seem convinced, but accepted his stance. She sat down next to him, and the other Lodgers resumed their positions on the floor. 

  He began to explain Hyde; presumably his darkest secret. He did not want to dwell on it, he did not want to confess to the deprecation he had found himself in which had led him to Hyde’s creation, but he had to. And so, he explained, to the best of his ability; He is Hyde, but they are not the same. Hyde was everything that Jekyll thought wrong or imperfect with himself personified, yet he was his own person, with his own desires. He reiterated that they were separate multiple times, so none of them would think that they had been secretly talking with Jekyll, when they thought they were talking with Hyde. He stuttered and paused and had to regain himself multiple times, and through it all, the Lodgers just... Listened. Patiently. They simply let him finish his explanation on his own terms, without being forced. 

  Finally, as he quieted down, the silence remained for a few seconds. They understood, of course; what Jekyll had been feeling back then couldn’t have been easy, and while they were not entirely convinced of his reasonings for not telling them, they accepted it, and told him as such. They could especially comprehend his hesitance now, as they had not been particularly understanding of him and his situation lately, having been too busy admiring Frankenstein’s every word... At least Jekyll could feel happy that he did not have to dwell more on the fact that he didn’t feel like he was good enough, or the fact that he wanted to throw himself off of cliffs, as they seemed to have grasped that from his monologue about Hyde. 

  After a few seconds, Miss Lavender spoke.

  “Wait- did you not also say that you have been hallucinating? Was that also Hyde?” she asked, confusion evident. Jekyll grimaced. 

  “Ah- well... Yes and no.” he started, scratching his neck a bit awkwardly, “after Moreau, Hyde and I fought, and, well... I wouldn’t necessarily say that he created the hallucinations, but he certainly kicked them out the door. It was mainly because I hadn’t slept in almost a week, though. They disappeared soon after I actually did so.”

  “Was that why you looked constantly terrified a little while ago?” 

  “... Was it that obvious?”

  “Well, yes, we thought you were suddenly terrified of everything and everyone- even Ito and Lanyon!” 

  Jekyll winced, although he tried to get out an apologetic smile. He desperately hoped that this was all of it, that he was done with explanations and could be satisfied with a neutral reaction from the Lodgers. He took yet another deep breath.

  “Any-” he coughed, “any other questions?” 

  The Lodgers looked between themselves, then shook their heads.

  “Nah, we already know that you like men, and we don’t mind if you happened to have been born a woman” one of them said, making Jekyll’s cheeks burn red as he realised what he had missed. “Although, like- are you and Lanyon dating or..?” 

  Jekyll attempted to cough out the ball in his throat, to no avail. He felt himself sinking down further against the door as he attempted to hide his face, clearly wishing to escape the conversation.

  “I... We never... Dated, so to speak. We had a... A fling when we went to university, but he broke it off. And... I guess I haven’t moved on as well as I thought.” 

  He removed his hand and watched as the Lodger grimaced, Jekyll wasn’t sure if it was out of sympathy or because they thought he was pathetic, at this point it very well could be both. 

  “And the werewolf?” Sinnett spoke up, and promptly got nudged by Luckett.

  “... Once, back in university still, I went on a vacation with Lanyon, to his family’s cottage. We came upon an injured werewolf and I insisted on nursing her back to health... I- I was young, and easily manipulated. I don’t... Like to talk about it.” 

  Sinnett looked apologetic, and Ito began to rub her hand against Jekyll’s arm in an attempt to comfort him. God, he was exhausted. Considering it must be past midnight by now, it certainly wasn’t hard to understand why.

  “Well...” Ito began, “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we are... Sorry. We did not know about Griffin’s and Helsby’s plan, we were definitely not in on it- and at the very least I am sorry for what you have been through, then and now.” 

  Jekyll closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the door. Still, he smiled gently.

  “I know. I’m sorry you all had to bear witness to this.” 

  “I... I’m also sorry for... The Frankenstein situation,” Miss Lavender continued, “I didn’t know you were hurting so much.”

  Jekyll opened his eyes, and watched as the group of Lodgers nodded in agreement. He normally would have simply snorted, it was awfully convenient that they were so sorry after he had a break about it, it really was. Water under the bridge, sweep it under the rug, whatever they wished to call it- but he was too tired to think about how genuine they were, or how convenient it was for them now. He just wanted all of this to be over.

  “I accept your apologies.” he said simply. God, he just wanted to go to bed...

  He wondered, for a moment, if the perpetrators would apologise, later. Or if they would double down and state that they didn’t see what was so wrong with what they did. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong and violating, they had to know that, too. But whatever would become of them would be the topic of another day, for now, Dr. Henry Jekyll was absolutely drained. If he was lucky, he could end the day and tomorrow would be perfectly normal, no one would mention or talk about the fact that he had spilt the contents of his heart and soul for them, unwillingly at that. He doubted that that would be the case, but he could always hope. 

  A soft sigh escaped his lips. He was just about to stand up and state that he would be turning in for whatever remained of the night, when he heard his own stomach grumble. He felt how his cheeks once more flared up in embarrassment.

  “How about we see if Rachel has any food left in the kitchen, eh, Henry?” Ito suggested, “then you can sleep- and I will make sure you get no disturbances tomorrow.”

  He thought about it for a second, but was interrupted by yet another grumble. He couldn’t help but crack a sheepish smile at his dear apprentice. “You’ve convinced me.” 

And so Ito grinned, as she helped Henry stand up. The various Lodgers parted, some deciding to tuck in and others deciding to come with them for a late-night snack. It felt oddly anti-climatic for all of them, Henry especially, yet he was almost relieved. At least he could only be happy that his secrets had been... Accepted. Perhaps it all had just been his paranoia. Or perhaps it was fate, divine intervention- no, of course not. But his truths were told and his soul was bared, perhaps this was the beginning of a stronger foundation within his relationships with his Lodgers. At the same time, he couldn’t help but be curious. Of course he knew that he had been the target of Helsby’s and Griffin’s little plan, in some way he was glad that he was, so no other Lodger would have been at the receiving end of this treatment... 

  And yet.. he couldn’t help but wonder; if it had been someone else, what would they have said?

  After all, who knew what secrets you might find, if you only knew where to look?

[hanayori89]

The Almost Kiss

*Castle Town*

Link waited for you to finish your shift. He explained everything to Telma, leaving out one little detail, which was that you were a Twili. Telma empathized, as she was no stranger to what it meant to be Link. Once you were back inside, out of Link's sight, Telma whisked you aside.

"I'm going to venture a guess that the boy who is to be wed is Link."

Humiliation forced you to avoid Telma's eyes. The overwhelming need to defend yourself came to the forefront. "Telma, I swear I didn't do anything indecent with Link! We are both just working under Princess Zelda's order. That's all- I"

"Y/N, you just met me, so I'll let this pass. But don't ever think you can lie to me. I can smell a lie like a forest fire. I know you and Link didn't do anything indecent. Even though we have just met, I see your character. And I know Link's." Telma chided, "But don't think for a minute that if I hadn't found you both huddled behind that shop, you wouldn't have kissed! Don't think for a minute that that boy doesn't have feelings for you!" 

Telma let out a 'tsking' sound of disappointment. "Poor Ilia. How is she going to deal with this? She's always been in love with Link. But I've never seen him look at her the way he looks at you. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"I meant no harm!" 

"Shh, child. I know you didn't. The heart wants what the heart wants. The important thing is that you both do this the right way. You need to tell him how you feel."

What is it with this realm that hides their feelings yet expects you to talk about your own? How am I supposed to talk about what I don't understand?

Telma prattled on. "I can guarantee that if you tell him how you feel about him... you won't be rejected. Do not fear rejection. Especially where I am sure there will be none. A strong woman uses her voice for the greater good. Ilia, on the other hand, that girl has always been way over her head with Link. To be frank, the news of their engagement was shocking. I was happy for her. I just couldn't be happy for Link. Not when Link himself didn't look happy."

How do I tell Link what I'm feeling when I myself don't know what it is I'm feeling?

"I know you're right, Telma." You hoped your agreement would get her to abandon the topic of Link. She put her hands on your shoulders, clapping them supportively. "Why don't you go home then? If you need to stay here, you are more than welcome. We may as well talk about your work schedule. I can't very well expect you to work when Zelda has plans for you. So, take tomorrow off, and when you come in the day after, I'll leave early. Sound fair? I don't want to leave you alone just yet. Going forward, we'll say Monday and Wednesday will be your days off. Weekends, we need all hands-on deck."

"That sounds great. Thank you for giving me this opportunity." A tremendous feeling spilled forth, causing you to jump into Telma's arms. It reminded you of when Midna granted you permission to come to the light. A feeling you've come to know as gratitude. You held on to Telma tightly. "Thank you," you whispered in your sincerest tone. So much has occurred since you've been in the light. It's strange how quickly the current of time flows, along with the situations within it. Now you are employed and have made a friend in the process. You had a clear blueprint for your conversion. You met the much-revered Princess Zelda. Who gave you her benediction, which you so desperately sought.

Last but not least, you met Link. The Hero of Twilight.

Who you almost kissed. At least you think you did.

Within your short time here, you've experienced more than any book would have offered. As Epona strode back to Ordon, the same powerful force of gratitude began to stir within you. You had your arms secured around Link's waist. The sound of Epona's hooves clomping on the cracked dirt lulled you into a semi-conscious state. You dipped your head down, your eyes fluttering shut against Link's back.

"Y/N? You're not going to sleep on me, are you?" Link called behind him as he kept his eyes ahead on Hyrule Field.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?" You lied.

Link gave a hoarse chuckle. "I can feel your eyes closing against my back." You couldn't help it. Between the tranquility of the sunset fizzling out beyond Hyrule and the security of being with Link again, a deep sleep was imminent.

"You've had a rough few days." Link continued, "You're not used to working your body so hard. You should take a nap, so you're refreshed for dinner. Anything in particular you'd like to eat?"

You felt yourself weave in and out of consciousness. You were a tad sick of the simplicity of Hylian cuisine. You craved something hearty. Something that would stick to your ribs. As you would eat in the twilight. Sleep began to claim you, prompting a weak response to Link's question.

"Steamed keese wings." With your dinner requested, you went out like a light.

"Keese wings? Y/N? Did I hear you correctly? Is that something you eat in the Twilight Realm? Y/N?"

Link whispered to Epona, "Girl, I don't know about you, but no way am I eating keese wings. But if Y/N really wants them, I suppose I can hunt them for her."

Epona let out a defeated huff as she continued her steady pace towards home. Epona's dinner request was simple. All she counted on was her usual fare of carrots.

At least someone knew what they would be having for dinner.

*Ordon Village*

Y/N hung over Link's back as he gingerly carried her upstairs. She was out for the count since her dinner request. Link laid her down in his bed, smoothing half the quilt over her body. He had Y/N swaddled like a newborn's first-time home from the medic. He wanted to make sure she was bundled and secure. Protected. The memory of watching her fall as Fado failed to catch her still harassed him.

Once he was certain Y/N was warm and content, he made his way downstairs to make dinner. Link rummaged through his barren cabinets, ashamed of the specks of cobwebs that hung in the corners. Link gave his hair its normal ruffle of distress at the dismal lack of food in his house. Sure, for him as one, it was fine. But now he had another life to care for. One that mattered more than his own.

Maybe, in an odd sense, craving Keese wings means she misses the twilight?

Link pondered to himself about what magic he could work in the kitchen. He had rice and eggs on hand. He would be more than gratified with them fried up in oil with aromatics. Link looked outside; the sun had officially bid adieu, allowing the moon to greet the dawn of night.

It's Keese hunting time. If such a simple request will make Y/N smile, I graciously oblige.

Link grabbed his bow and arrow and headed out to enjoy some nocturnal hunting. He got the rice ready to steam, preparing it for when he would return home. Then he'd simply have to fry his food and steam Y/N's Keese wings.

Despite the moon's guiding light, the only thing truly guiding Link was the image of Y/N's lips excruciatingly close to his own.

*

Y/N groggily padded downstairs, just as Link had set the table. Link sat, watching her rub her dreary eyes with the sleeve of her top.

"Something smells good." She yawned; a trace of her deep slumber still portrayed in her voice.

"You need to eat and get some more rest. Telma really put you to work, didn't she? Just a fair warning, the Arbiter's grounds will also be tiresome." Link began shuffling his egg around his plate, breaking the yoke over the rice.

"Link? Did you... did you make me Keese wings?!"

Once the rice was soaked with the yoke, he took a huge bite. The comforting carbohydrates were just what he needed after spending the day unintentionally running around Castle Town. Link watched Y/N stare at her plate in wonder.

"I don't know if I did a good job. You mentioned steaming them, so I steamed them with some rice. But I'd be happy to make you some of mine if it's not to your liking." Link offered.

Y/N shook her head. "No, it isn't that. I'm just-" Her bottom lip began to quiver. "Link, I don't know what I am." Link was stunned. For someone who wasn't familiar with emotions, she was portraying a lot of them lately.

Before he could say anything, she began to cry into her plate. "I suppose I am no stranger to crying." She gave a pathetic laugh through her tears. "I've been feeling so many things. I don't know what they are. How do I even explain them? But this dish is just so thoughtful. First, you bought me that beautiful dress. Now you went and hunted my favorite food. I really don't know what this feeling is. I suppose I just want to adequately thank you, and I don't know how."

"So, Keese wings are your favorite food? I thought you said carcasses were?" Link joked.

Y/N gave a congested snort across the table from her crying. "Yes, I mean, I knew cucco would be a safe dish here. But generally, in the twilight, we love hearty dishes. But our idea of hearty is different. Besides steamed Keese wings, which are very fibrous, I love stew with Moblin guts."

Link pushed his plate away from him. "Y/N, I'm happy to cook anything for you; just don't ask me to taste it."

This gave her the first sliver of a smile he'd seen since Lake Hylia. "To think you almost kissed a girl who eats Moblin guts."  As soon as the words left her mouth, they both sat up straight at the shock of hearing them out loud. Link felt the same heat he felt behind the shop trickling down his body. He began to gulp down his cup of water, unsure of how to respond.

Arousal that he hadn't felt in a long time had been prodding him. Y/N looked down at her feet. This was her infamous method of avoiding tension in the atmosphere. Or so he had noticed.

He thought back to the kiss that could have been. He felt the passion pushing them both together. He saw Y/N close her eyes. Some part of his brain thought he imagined it. Was she even sure what a kiss was or the emotions behind it? Apparently, she did know. Then the question remained: did she want it?

Did she want him to kiss her?

Link decided to do the opposite of what he told Y/N. He kept insisting she communicate with him, yet here he was running from that communication. He changed the subject. It was safer that way. He couldn't deal with the rejection he would feel if he asked her how she felt toward the idea of him kissing her. He also knew the timing wasn't right. He had to end the engagement with Ilia first, keeping Rusl's words of wisdom in the crux of his heart. Y/N deserved to have the purest first kiss. Not one coated behind secrets. Link also had one other worry. Because of his reputation in their realm, did she simply want to kiss him out of idolization?

If she did, then that wouldn't be enough for him. He wanted her to be familiar with what she felt. He wanted those feelings to match his. He deviated off course, circling back to something she said earlier.

"Y/N, I know you aren't familiar with the sensations of the light. Maybe it can be of some relief if you try your best to describe it. I can help you decipher what you're feeling to the best of my knowledge."

She seemed to consider this. She cautiously opened her mouth, giving Link a quick glance before resuming her gaze to the floor. "Well, I suppose I can try."

She took a Keese wing to her lips, sucking the cartilage clean off the bone. She closed her eyes, transporting Link back to Castle Town and the 'almost' kiss. He was ogling her. He quickly looked away.

"This tastes like the twilight." Her voice was dripping with pleasure. She delicately patted her mouth against a napkin. Link loved the deliberate way she made gestures. He could tell they were foreign to her. Everything was done with extreme caution. This just made her appear dainty to the untrained eye. He knew it was because she was trying to blend into this alien realm with only her acquired book smarts, which he secretly admired her for. Even though Link possessed the Triforce of Courage, he wasn't sure he could be as daring as Y/N.

"Link, there is something I've been meaning to tell you. About Aryn." Link sat up attentively in his seat. The name of that idiot riled him up.

"I didn't want to go on a date with him. I did it because I thought..."

"You thought what?"

"I thought it would make you react. I wanted you to react." Her face was a blank canvas. It seemed it was up to Link to decipher what emotion would be painted on it.

Meanwhile, the poker face he so carefully perfected had finally ruptured. He felt his eyebrows shoot upward. His mouth slowly opened in disbelief. He simply couldn't believe his ears. Yet Y/N sat, eating her food without a single clue on her face. As if she didn't just rock his world with her declaration.

It seemed to Link that Y/N took his poker face advice to heart.

My how the roles had reversed.

A/N: Edited 1/10/23

Time to pick up where you left off and make your way to the Arbiter's Grounds. But not before divulging a tiny-weeny secret to Link. The path ahead looks clear. The emotions involved do not.

Where do you both go from here? And will it involve a certain kiss instead of an almost one?

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

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