#ignoring insomnia for a moment (which I like) nothing he has released as of late has a grip on me
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harapeveco · 1 month ago
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Controversial but I genuenly think Eve should take a one yearish break and rethink some things, there’s no way that man has made three songs that sound exactly the same
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yoshibb · 3 years ago
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Hi! Little something different from usual. I saw the @shepherds-of-haven summer prompt list and I decided to give it a try. Shepherds of Haven is a WIP interactive fiction and it has been such a huge comfort read for me, I highly recommend it! While I'm in love with all the characters, my favorite RO is Chase, so this story is for the prompt sleep with my F!MCAerynXChase. I did my best to keep everything as accurate as possible character and lore wise >.< Thanks for reading! Blinding Light Chase can't sleep. The concept itself isn't disturbing. He's gone plenty a night without a wink of shut-eye. But to not be able to, to have his thoughts jumbled, his leg bouncing, it's unusual. He stretches his fingers in front of him, flexing them soundlessly in the dark like he can find the answer in the lines of his palms.
Something is wrong.
He sits up, not bothering to find a light, his eyes long adjusted to the dark. There are still sounds coming from the Shepherds' Compound, but it's clear that the majority of the occupants have turned in. He doesn't always stay on grounds, but he's been making more exceptions recently for whatever reason.
There's no point in trying to join them in their well deserved rest. He rolls out of bed, slipping into an outfit suitable for traversing the city's rooftops. If his mind refuses to be silent then he might as well occupy it before it decides to turn to more... uncomfortable subjects.
He climbs out onto the rooftop and pauses. An irresistible urge to check on Aeryn tugs at him. For a moment he considers ignoring it. It's late, she needs her rest more than anyone and despite his stealth there is always the small chance he could wake her. But like most forces involving Aeryn, it's less of a tug and more of a compulsion. He spins around, lightly stepping to her bedroom window. He starts to undo the lock but finds it already open. He smiles to himself, forgetting that she'd stopped bothering to latch it after he'd picked it so many times.
She never asks him 'why he never uses the door' like a normal person would or scolds him for invading her privacy outside a brief huff of annoyance. It is strangely difficult to get under her skin, but a challenge he's taken to whole-heartedly.
However, though the space inside is dark, the bed is empty. His heart trembles with an ominous thump. He shakes his head, scolding himself. There are plenty of explanations for this. His eyes drift about the room to take in what's missing. Most notably her sword that usually rests against her nightstand. She normally leaves it close enough to grab in case of danger. The bed is made and her uniform is gone.
He should check the patrol schedule.
What are you doing?
He stutter steps when he reaches the low lights of the hallway. What is he doing? He should be picking the lock on some unsuspecting noble's balcony by now. And yet nothing stopped him from progressing towards the large board downstairs.
The lamps provide just enough light for him to read. Letters which were once incomprehensible now make perfect sense thanks to Aeryn's tutoring. His smile lengthens as her name jumps out at him. He even knows the route she's covering. Not the best part of Haven, but not the worst. He has nothing to worry about.
He blinks and looks down. He plants his hand on his disobedient limb, physically stopping his right leg from bouncing. He studies it like it's a mystical object rather than a part of his body. His eyes slide up to Aeryn's name again, the discontent tug now like a rope around his wrist, dragging him to where she should be.
He was going to do a little sightseeing anyway, what would the harm be in 'bumping' into her?
Soon enough he is outside, climbing the walls and out into the streets of Haven. Darting into the first alley, he bounces off the wall and uses his momentum to reach the ledge, pulling himself up onto the roof without any trouble. The air is cool, comfortably so. The wind barely provides any resistance as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop.
Normally, he'd take in the sights, watch for a potential target, enjoy the rush of adrenaline. It's the perfect night for a sprint, but his mind is clouded by the hunt. He scans the streets below, empty besides the rare drunkard or overworked laborer.
Until he finally sees her, long golden honey hair that somehow still shimmers under insufficient light. A presence that always seems to blind him the minute she catches his gaze.
His heart beats against its cage, his smile stretching until his cheeks hurt. His sunshine, his Aeryn.
He catches himself, pressing a hand against his mouth as a cold shiver courses through him. No, not his. Free to come and go as she pleased. In and out of his bed, to be with whoever she wanted. Just as he is.
Regaining control of himself he looks down again, studying the sway of her hips and the grace of her walk. It's enough to ignite a flame inside his core that he's eager to chase. A smirk smooths its way across his lips. It would be a matter of convincing her to abandon her post, but she's never turned him down before.
He skips over one more roof and leaps down silently, a building's distance between them. The first time he'd snuck up on her like this, she'd nearly taken his head from his shoulders. He had the reflexes to dodge her if he needed to, but she stopped her stroke before it nicked his throat. She'd sighed and asked him not to do it again. He'd simply smiled and stepped closer to her, promising nothing.
He'd repeated his stunt again with similar results but never in the dead of night. A thrill weaves through him as he approaches her, his tongue dancing out over his lower lip.
And then she turns.
Sharply, west, down a dark alley. The move startles him and unlike his normal marks, he trails her blindly.
An arm shoots out and cuts off his progress, causing him to stumble to a stop. Her other arm grazes against his back, effectively caging him in.
"Chase," Aeryn says in a scolding yet fond manner.
"It appears you've caught me, Captain," he reclines against the brick wall between the barrier of her arms, a lazy smile painting his lips. "So what do you plan to do with me?" Aeryn shakes her head.
"That's it? No tricks? You're just giving up? I don't believe it." Her eyes dance across his form and he's more than happy to allow it.
"I'm finding this position more than agreeable at the moment, but we'll see how things play out, sunshine." He propels himself forward from his lounging position. He pauses, their similar heights allowing him to nearly brush his lips against hers. To her credit she doesn't flinch, keeping her arms fixed on either side of him. He tilts his head in playful innocence. "I can offer a bribe, but I've heard you are an honest sort."
Aeryn hums unable to stop her own smile from echoing his, "I may be open to a different sort of bribe."
He chuckles low in his throat, the flicker of heat growing into a furnace. He nearly closes the distance, but he manages to draw back. He wants to see the thirst in her eyes first. The inescapable longing he's felt all night.
Instead, he's met with her concern. It catches him off guard, and he struggles to keep his nonchalant grin in place. "Aeryn?"
She catches his chin in her fingers and ignites a magelight with her other hand. He swallows tightly as she examines his face like a healer would.
"Your skin is pale," she says.
"Just a trick of the light. Nothing worth worrying yourself over." He gently tries to push her hand away. But she's insistent, thumb tracing his bottom lip, faintly cracked beneath her touch.
"You have dark circles under your eyes. Have you been sleeping?" She chides him. He tries to defend himself, but he's too distracted by the way her fingers glide across his cheek and lightly stroking his eyelashes. His eyelids flutter, and his body shivers under her featherlight caresses. Soft and caring and so completely foreign. He leans into her palm, lowering his guard for just a moment.
And she doesn't waste it.
She leans in and presses a tender kiss to the curve of his jaw. Wrapping her arms around him, she folds their bodies together until the two of them become intimately one. He turns his head into the crook of her neck, deeply inhaling the heady scent of sage. He cards his fingers into her long hair, enjoying the feel of it as it slides through the gaps of his fingers.
And it's enough. He allows himself to sink further until he's drowning in her embrace. Where no one can touch him, nothing can ever hurt him again, as long as she has him. She lays butterfly kisses on his forehead and each of his eyelids before releasing him. He very nearly clings to her but forces himself to let go, knees weak as he falls against the wall. She holds his hand for a moment longer, squeezing it tightly.
"Go to bed, please. For me? I'll be back soon." She promises, her grip slipping from his.
Instead of letting him disagree, she kisses him softly good night, her lips offering no more than a caress. He stands frozen for a moment, watching her disappear around the corner. As if leaving is so simple.
Confusion muddles his mind as he slides down the wall, hitting the ground with a thud. He stares at his hand, still tingling from her touch. Her scent still lingering on his clothes.  
He starts to get up, ready to continue on with his plans for the night only for his limbs to betray him. He stumbles against the tidal wave of exhaustion. It suddenly feels as if he could sleep for days. He searches for the cure for his insomnia and finds her further down the road. His heart soars to life again. And then a deep fear creeps up his spine.
What's come over me?
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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago
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A Cure for Insomnia CH.6
You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.
Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.
You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.
'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.
'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.
After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.
The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.
When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.
Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.
Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.
Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.
Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.
The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you  needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.
Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.
A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.
Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.
You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!
YN r u  coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers
Lemme know I'll save your seat.
Sent 6:47 P.M.
They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.
Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!
Sent 7:10 P.M.
It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.
Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week
…..oooop
ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection
starting from the beginning
...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.
Sent 7:12 P.M.
How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!
Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.
Sent 7:18 P.M.
Already ran off toy vermont probably
will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?
Sent 7:20 P.M.
I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.
Sent 7:21 P.M.
Ya just jkin.
Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.
Sent 7:23 P.M.
Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.
'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.
Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.
Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.
As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.
There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.
After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.
'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'
A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.
Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.
Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.
Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.
“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.
“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.
Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.
“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.
“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.
“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.
“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.
The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.
Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.
Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory.  His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.
When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.
“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.
Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.
“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.
“Oh I'm fine now.”
Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.
“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.
“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.
Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes  Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.
Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age.   Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.
Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.
“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.
“...Like that little round pink...thing?”  What?
The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.
“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.” catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”
“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.
“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.
“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.
Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”
Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.
“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”
“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.
“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.
“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.
Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.
A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.
Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.
“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.
You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.
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alexadru · 5 years ago
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White Knight - In the dead of the night
It has been two days since what was now known as the Battle for Haven. An event which, unlike the Fall of Beacon, was kept under wraps from the general public, but it was by no means less important. 
Two days and the events that transpired were still fresh in the mind of one Weiss Schnee. Her fight against Vernal, against Hazel as well as her near death experience. The memory of her being impaled and the pain that followed was something she had not fully gotten over and yet it felt like a distant memory. Almost like it wasn't even real, but the thought had her lying awake in bed at this moment. It has been hours since everyone went to sleep and yet she still laid awake, the usually familiar sounds of Yang’s snores and Ruby’s occasional mid sleep chirps were now keeping her up after months of quiet at her home in Atlas.
That was a lie, of course. One she told herself to justify her current insomnia. The noises made by Ruby and Yang had nothing to do with the unease she was feeling, with how her mind and body refused to relax properly and fall asleep.
With a sigh, she quietly got out of bed, clad in her light blue nightgown, and tip toed outside the shared room without disturbing her roommates. The girl figured that maybe a glass of water from the kitchen and a few minutes of fresh air from the veranda would entice her eyelids to close eventually.
As she descended the stairs and entered the main living area, she was greeted with a surprising sight. On one of the red sofas laid the familiar figure of Jaune Arc, fast asleep. Briefly wondering why he wasn’t in his room, she quietly approached. 
Once next to him, she noticed his discarded weapon and armor on the floor, at least he had half the mind to sleep without them. She couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it would have been.
It took little time for her to realize what was going on. He had been training late and was so exhausted he didn’t even make it to his bed. Instead, the blonde passed out on the sofa.
As to why on Remnant he was pushing himself so hard after they had just survived the hardest fight of their lives, she had no clue. Staring at the bunny image of his hoodie, Weiss couldn’t help but be confused by the boy in front of her. 
They had a tumultuous past at Beacon where he had been a constant annoyance for months with a perseverance unmatched by any suitors sent her way by her father. But then, the dance happened and all that changed. His advances stopped and it seemed that he had realized for the first time that he had been a pest to her. Not only that, he did a complete 180 and even asked Neptune to spend time with her. All for her sake.
Months later, after enduring the insincerity of the upper crust of Atlas, after finally standing up to her father and after surviving being a hostage to one of the most dangerous band of misfits on the continent, she had met him again.
He was different. A lot more subdued and quiet, the tragedy of Beacon forced him to grow and mature, just like her. However, that air of seriousness was something she didn’t dislike.
Her thoughts were interrupted when he started to shuffle, his body adjusted to a more comfortable position with his hoodie riding up on the sofa and exposing his torso. Despite being night time, some light entered the room through the windows and Weiss was drawn to the sight of his abdomen.
She blinked in surprise when she saw abs which were previously hidden by his cartoon themed hoodie. This... this wasn’t what she expected. She did not expect her eyes to stare straight at his abdominal muscles, nor did she expect them to be so defined. 
Without realizing, her hand hovered above his skin and, hesitantly, gave a feathery touch. Weiss had no idea what compelled her to act like this, but it was probably related to the unease she had been feeling all night. Yes, most definitely. She was totally not curious about Jaune's abs.
Slowly, she dragged her finger across his exposed body, feeling the slight bumps. He let out a soft groan which nearly froze her on the spot. Fingers left his skin as if it burned and she looked up to see if he had woken up. Mercifully, he was still asleep and Weiss released a breath.
At that point, the rational side of her mind told her that she should go get that glass of water and make her way back to her room. But her thoughts were still jumbled from her tiredness, unease and now an increasing curiosity for the boy in front of her. Against her better judgement, she went and poked his exposed abdomen again.
What started with a poke became more than two and fingers had become hands. The way she could feel the heat of his body under her palm was unlike anything else she had felt. Weiss had never had much physical contact during her life. She had shared hugs with Winter or her teammates, but this went beyond that. 
Before she realized, a few minutes later, she was straddling his lap with her hands carefully and eagerly roaming his abdominal region, enjoying the feel of his defined and strong musculature. Her cheeks burned as she continued to feel a warmth spread through her body. 
Weiss: "This is so wrong... what's wrong with me? What am I even doing?" She quietly asked no one in particular. 
Nevertheless, she got an answer. 
Jaune: "Yeah, I'd kind of like to know too." Weiss' blood froze as she slowly lifted her head and finally saw that the boy she was on top of had woken up.  
Jaune: "Weiss? ...what are you doing?"
He was looking at her, his blue eyes staring into her own, waiting for an explanation for the treatment she had been administering moments ago. 
The girl was at a loss and she felt panic build up inside of her. How was she going to explain this? 
Weiss: "This is a dream!" She blurted out.
Jaune: "A dream?" He began to rub his eyes with his palm to shake the tiredness. There was little success.
Weiss: "Y-yes! I am the manifestation of your deepest desire. I am here to fulfill all your p-pleasures with no exception." Involuntarily, her treacherous hands still roamed his abdomen.  
As Jaune blinked at her with bleary eyes, Weiss was screaming on the inside. Fulfill his pleasures!? What was wrong with her!? This was not damage control, it was the complete opposite!
Jaune: "I guess that makes sense." Came his tired response, his hand now covering a loud yawn. 
Watching him carefully, it was clear that he was still half asleep. How else would he buy her terrible reasoning? Wait… did he just say that it made sense for her to appear in his dreams? 
Thoughts began filling her head with possible scenarios in which she would appear in his dreams at night, some which had her cheeks turn red and make her look down where her hands laid on him. That was another mistake because she saw his chiseled torso again.
However, before she could say anything, the boy grabbed her shoulders with both hands, catching her off guard. Weiss was pulled against him, her body laying on top of his as she was held securely by his surprisingly large arms.
Weiss: "J-Jaune?" She muttered, unsure of what to make of his action. A bit of panic creeped up her spine. The girl didn't know if she should wait for him to say something or if she should break free and run to her room. Her mind picked the former.
The silence continued for a few minutes, before Jaune shuffled in his sleep again. This time he twisted on his side, bringing her small body with him, trapping her between him and the backrest of the sofa. It was a wonder how they both fit.
Weiss swallowed some saliva, feeling her heart thump in her neck. The closeness of their bodies was impossible to ignore at this point. The girl squirmed a bit in his hold, but to no avail. She was entirely pressed against his larger and sturdier figure with her chest squeezed against his. It was an uncomfortable sensation, unfamiliar and tense. 
Jaune: "You're… safe." Soft, delirious whispers came from his mouth, uttered from the depths of his subconscious. "...I'm glad."
When she heard those words, Weiss' mind put a stop to any other thought instantly. Urged by her feelings, she looked up to see his face. His words, full of emotion, called for her full attention.
Jaune: "So glad…" His tone got unstable as his voice began to crack, almost as if he was about to start crying. "...I didn't lose you too." Still under the impression that this was nothing but a dream, Jaune pulled 'dream' Weiss closer against him, like he was afraid that she would vanish if he didn't.   
The rawness of his mid sleep confession hit her like a hammer. 
In that moment it sank into her head just how close she had been to losing her life. To have her existence along with her feelings and dreams disappear in a single moment. An agonisingly long and cold moment.
The tenseness and unease she had been feeling was her subconscious trying to process that notion. That she had been fatally wounded and had been moments away from death.
All her training, studying and counselling couldn't have prepared her for the torrent of primal emotions that burst inside of her. 
Fear and terror of the likes which nearly crippled her On the spot.
In an instant, her hands snaked around Jaune's back and held onto him like a vice. Sharp nails dug into the material of his hoodie as the girl tried her best to hide herself from the world by burying herself against his chest. 
Weiss: "I'm here… I'm still here." She screamed the words in her mind from the top of her lungs, but on the outside they were barely even heard. 
Almost feeling her distress in his sleep, Jaune continued to hold her close and be that giant pillar she desperately needed in that moment. With slow motions, he rubbed her back with his hand, his fingers running through her snow white hair comfortingly, giving as much emotional support as he could.
It worked. 
Weiss relaxed slowly as she found comfort in his secure hold and the warmth of his body. Whereas before she felt unease from her position, now she practically melted in his arms. Her death grip lessened and now she simply returned his hug. It was an intimate embrace and it was everything that Weiss wanted in that moment.  
The exhaustion of the last few days hit Weiss hard and her eyelids grew heavy before she realized. She was finally lulled to sleep by the sound of Jaune's steady heartbeat.
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jaehyunspeachparty · 5 years ago
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daddy jaehyun
iii.xvi. johnny pov (m)
Johnny couldn't sleep the night. He missed Johanna so incredibly. She wrote him a short message every day if she was okay, but until now she didn’t want to talk to him. He actually wanted to go to bed with Jaina at noon, but insomnia chased him. His little daughter slept peacefully in his arms as he looked into the empty space. He could no longer be with his thoughts alone, loneliness crushed him. So he wrapped his girl in the blanket and went out of the room, but left the door open so that he could hear when she woke up. He decided to go to the kitchen and have a coffee, he couldn't sleep anyway. 
He quickly made himself a coffee and sat down at the dining table. But when he looked out the window he could see Y/N in tight pants while doing yoga. He didn't want to pay any more attention to her, but somehow he couldn't look away. Especially when she was doing the Downward Dog, he could only stare at her ass. "Shit." Johnny swore in his cup but continued to watch her. Somehow he gave himself completely to it and while he was enjoying his coffee, he was somehow enjoying the view. But when he suddenly heard dull footsteps and knew that Jaehyun was coming down the stairs, he quickly turned to the side and pretended to be busy on the phone. "Hey, did you see Y/N?" Jaehyun came into the room but was able to spot his wife. "Ah, there she is doing yoga again." Jaehyun sighed and sat next to his friend. He also started to watch her and waited for her to finish. "But it's new that she's doing yoga, isn't it?" Johnny uncertainly ventured his eyes a little bit more to Y/N. "She used to do it now and then. Now she does it to keep herself fit during pregnancy. She thinks it helps her back pain." Both men now watched her as she continued, ignorant that both men were watching her. "You're really lucky with Y/N." Johnny didn't think about what he said, he meant well. But Jaehyun didn't like it. "Mhmm." He sounded slightly passive-aggressive, but Johnny assumed he was taking it wrong. The next moment, however, she stopped and rolled up her yoga mat. Jaehyun got up and went in her direction.
Johnny had never really thought much about Y/N before. She was always Jaehyun's girlfriend and later wife. He had always left the problem of a love triangle to Jaehyun and Doyoung. Y/N was just a good friend who was always there to help. But a lot had changed since he lived here. It was a strange feeling that he suddenly had erotic feelings for her. It wasn't romantic, he still saw her as a friend. As a friend ... well ... he would like to fuck once. Since he'd seen her almost completely naked, he couldn't think of anything else. He couldn't get the picture out of his head. And then how she did yoga, saw how agile she was... He shook his head. At that moment, she embodied everything he was looking for. Pregnant, good mother and still in love with her husband. NO!!! He knew he just had to fuck again. Simply release the pressure. It is certainly over 8 months ago that he had no sex and since living with the Jungs family, he has not been able to put on a hand on his special member. He shared the room with his daughter and there was no other room in the house for it. Or? Johnny remembered the upstairs bathroom, right next to the staircase where the kids had their toys. It was far from his bedroom, but also from the others. He just had to relieve some pressure. So he decides to go up quickly and locked himself in the bathroom. On his phone, he immediately searched for porn that should help him to get the pressure off quickly. He had already taken off his pants and was slowly starting to massage his length when he suddenly heard the voice of Y/N. "We should teach the children more to clean up their things." She sighed and Johnny could hear her putting things in a box. "Ahhh, it's so late. Why do you have to start cleaning up now, let's go to bed." Jaehyun whined and just wanted to go to the bedroom. "I can't sleep, the twins keep me awake. When I move, it's usually better. I think they fall asleep with the rocking movement, which was the same with Sunoh when I was pregnant with him."  "Can't you sleep with other movements too?" He heard Jaehyun's voice and it became quiet again. Johnny thought the two had left the room, so he relaxed again, slowly began to massage his length, he decided not to watch the porn yet. He just closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. And when he was getting hard, which didn't take long, he suddenly heard a moan. There were no other sounds, no clapping of the skin, no male grunting, just female groans. And Johnny had to admit that it turned him on. "Oh god ... yes ... yes!" He heard her louder and louder and his hand was still tight around his cock and unconsciously he gently ran over his tip. Johnny asked how Jaehyun was doing it, did he finger her, did he lick her? Somehow he was curious. He would love to have a look. He was like in a different state, could only think of sex, there was nothing more in his head. It felt like her moans were all over the room and he could only think of her bare body, the plump breasts. "Shit." Johnny swore under his breath and noticed how hard he was and that his veins were protruding. All his blood had gathered there. "Come on, let's go to bed, it's more comfortable than the floor." He heard this say Jaehyun and he heard a few more sounds before it got really quiet. Johnny stood there, his hard cock stood away from him and he didn't know what to do. In the end, he decided to go for porn and jerked off on it. He was relieved that he had decided not to use Y/N as a template, after all, he was the wife of his best friend, the mother of his children. He felt so much shame, so much hatred that he had such thoughts. How could it get so far? How long has he been so desperate? When Johnny cum he felt so much hatred and shame for himself. He washed his face, hands and went back down to the bedroom. It couldn't go on like this and he knew that. His condition was no longer normal. Something had to change. He looked down at his daughter, who is sleeping peacefully. Everyone thought she looked so like him, but he always saw Johanna in her. Every time he recognized her in her, his heart broke. He just wanted his wife back.
daddy jaehyun masterlist
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plastic-portrait · 5 years ago
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Hi I apologize if this adds to your workload, so feel free to ignore or so.. but I was wondering if you're still doing the writing prompts, 21 and 44 from the Hurt/Comfort for Sal and Larry? Thank you ♡
A common branSorry for being so late! This is actually an interesting combo of prompts, I had to think for a bit about how to do it. Hope you enjoy! Also TW, I’m not sure if this will be a trigger subject for any of you lovelies but I want to make sure I mention that this prompt contains mentions to things such as substance abuse. 
21: “Where are you? Tell me where you are.”
44: “You’re burning up.”
(Larry’s POV)
I was pacing back and forth across my room, radio in hand. 
“Sal, answer me. Over.” God, it was the hundredth fucking time I’d said the exact same thing. Where was he? I hadn’t seen or heard from him in days. All I got from the others were shaking heads and shrugged shoulders. 
A click and static, then... not Sal. “Hey Larry, it’s Ash. Robert said he saw him come home with his dad two days ago. He went back to work but Sal never came out. Think you can check it out? I’d join you but I have to stay with my brother. Over.” 
I was both relieved and even more worried. This wasn’t what I had expected. “Thanks, Ash. I’m on my way now. Over and out.” 
I swear I’ve never burst into mom’s room like that before. She was confused, clearly, and asked what was up. 
“Can I borrow your keys?” I was out of breath for some reason. 
“Oh, honey, what for?” She sat up in her bed. 
I thought about telling the truth, but I wasn’t sure how that would go. “Sal’s dad is at work and Sal lost his key, so he can’t get into the apartment.”
“Oh, okay sweetie. They’re on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks, mom. Love you!” I said, quickly running out the door. 
The elevator had never been this slow, had it? Every inch took hours in my mind, leaving me to worry if Sal was even here. Was I wasting time?
Finally, the doors opened. The hall was so empty, so quiet it almost hurt. I could’ve heard the rustling of the carpet if I stopped. I unlocked the apartment door. Walked inside. Nothing.
“Where are you? Tell me where you are Sal.” Normally he would’ve chuckled at my voice cracking like that. 
I looked around the rooms, finally making my way to his bedroom. Something hit the back of the door as I opened it, rattled. I saw a pile of tangled blue hair underneath the edge of the blankets on his bed. I shouted his name and ran over to him, turning him over. He was asleep. It was one of the very few times I had ever seen his face, scarred over with small round holes and larger scars, varying in shape and size like close-up freckles. His blue eye sat in a cup of water on his bedside table. 
I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up. Fuck” I whispered under my breath. 
I shook him to try and wake him up. Nothing. His breathing was slow, barely there at all. I grabbed his phone and called for an ambulance. 
“911, what’s your emergency?” A woman spoke.
“I’m at the Addison Apartments, my friend has been missing for several days and I found him, he isn’t responding to me and he’s barely breathing.”
“I’m sending an ambulance to the location, sir. Can you stay on the line with me until they arrive?”
“Yeah, yeah I can stay,” I tucked the phone between my ear and my shoulder, and picked Sal up, carrying him out of the room. He was so much lighter than I remembered. 
When I turned to leave the bedroom, I saw what had hit the door on my way in. An orange bottle, with maybe two pills left inside. Several more empty bottles and one or two full sat on the bookshelf. 
“God damn it, Sal! What were you thinking?” I was sure he wouldn’t hear me, but that was the least of my concerns right now. As long as he made it, I didn’t care.
I waited with him on the front steps of the apartment building for the ambulance. They arrived quickly, and loaded him into the vehicle, with a respirator mask and all. I hadn’t seen them carry away someone alive before. Hopefully, Sal stayed that way. I sat in the ambulance with him, crying my eyes out and just wishing he would be okay. 
After he was settled in, a male EMT sat next to me with a clipboard and asked me what happened. I explained everything I knew. 
“Do you know which medications he had access to?” A lot, for sure. 
“Uh, I know he had a leftover Duragesic prescription, sertraline, Xanax, and um...” I stopped to think, remembering what Sal had told me each one was for. I had asked why he had so many once. “and I know he used doxepin. I think other than that it was just normal household stuff.”
The EMT wrote quickly. “Thank you sir, this helps us radio to the hospital so they’re ready when we get there. We are going to do everything we can.” He spoke to the other EMT, some things I didn’t really understand. 
I held Sal’s hand, which was extremely warm. “It’s gonna be okay Sal. I promise. You’re... You’re gonna be okay.�� I couldn’t even see him through the tears in my eyes, just a blur of blue and white. 
When we got to the hospital, they put Sal on one of the rolling beds and they let me stay in the waiting room until he was treated. I wasn’t sure if it was hours or minutes before they let me see him. 
He turned to look at me, slowly. “Larry? What am... what are we doing here?”
“I found you in your room. It’s okay now, you’ll be okay and we’ll go home soon.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. “Why?”
“Why what, Sal?” 
“Why did you come find me?” He placed his hand on top of mine at the edge of the bed.
“Because I wasn’t just gonna let you die, man, you’re the best thing I’ve got here. I know there are things I’ll never know about your life. I don’t know what happened to you, why you have to feel like this every day. But...” I squeezed his hand gently, “But I’m here. I want to help, I know it doesn’t ever go away totally but I know it can get better. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
I could tell he was crying now. “I’m sorry, Larry. I shouldn’t have...”
“I know. I know. But we just have to move forward from here. I love you, man. We’ll get through this.” 
Our conversation was interrupted by a nurse, checking Sal’s vitals and anything else he needs.  “He’s stable and can be released tomorrow after overnight observation. His father has been notified and is on his way. You are welcome to stay as long as he allows it.” 
“Thank you,” I said, and she nodded to me as she left the room. 
I turned back to Sal. “After you come home, we can all get together and camp out in the treehouse. Mom will make us cookies. Sound good?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” 
We sat there together for most of the night, even when Henry showed up. I promised I would always be there for Sal, and I’ll be damned if I can’t keep that promise.
A/N: I hope you guys liked this one! I know it’s a bit dark but it’s just what I felt when reading these prompts. If you guys want something fluffier let me know!
For reference to understand why Sal would have these, the medications listed in this prompt: 
Duragesic: A brand of fentanyl that’s used to further treat pain after surgeries. Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid that is between 50 and 100 times stronger than morphine. It is prescribed by surgeons after major surgeries to treat extreme pain, or used for cancer patients. With Sal’s facial trauma he would likely have this or a similar prescription after his surgeries. 
Sertraline: A common brand of sertraline is Zoloft, it is a type of antidepressant used to treat PTSD symptoms. 
Xanax:  A common brand of alprazolam, it is used to treat anxiety and panic disorder, I’m guessing many of you already know what this is but just in case!
Doxepin: A common brand of doxepin is Prudoxin, it is used to treat anxiety, depression, and chronic insomnia or other sleep disorders. 
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galivantingg · 5 years ago
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sinking
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the beginning
People want to believe they are what they choose to remember. The good stuff. -It Chapter Two
Jacob thinks about that quote a lot. What does he remember about himself? His mind flashes back to the days of arguments, bullying and proving to be the biggest brat ever. Of name calling, rude quips and stoney faces. Too long arguments about things that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. If all he remembers is the bad stuff, does that make him a bad person? Yes, it does. Jacob is a bad person. He's mean, belittling, and takes everyone for granted. He thinks about himself first, doesn't ask how the other is doing in return, at least not automatically. He has to try to be nice. He has to force it. Jacob is a bad person because he is a thoughtless person. He just doesn't think, before he acts, or speaks. He literally is, head empty, no thoughts.
He can be nice, people have told him that, but he doesn't think he is nice. He has his moments, It's usually when he's giving someone something, or doing something for them, but there's no ulterior motive; except for validation. That's all Jacob wants. Validation. He wants to be noticed, to be needed. And when he does something for someone, he becomes needed. Which grants him what he wants, which makes him a bad person. Nice people don't do things for others for expect something in return. It is a fact,  Jacob is a bad person.
Now that that's out of the way, let's begin.
Jacob was lying there on his bed, watching the sun rise through his window. He wanted to know the time, but didn’t have the energy to turn his head to the side and check the clock. The sun was a little over halfway over the houses, the sky a brilliant blue already, and the birds were just as annoying as ever. It was pretty at first, but after the first twenty minutes of tuneless chirping it became tiresome. He doesn't remember the last time he slept properly. Either he'd come home, sleep until dinner, push his food around, then go back to sleep, waking up some time around four or five in the morning, and spend the next two hours staring out his window or at his ceiling, or he'd come home and not sleep at all. There was no in between, no compromise. He'd either get roughly eleven hours of sleep in one day, or none. On nights he didn't sleep he would do homework for ten hours straight. He'd work through essay after essay, checking the syllabus for each class and starting a new one when he finished. Never mind if it hadn't been assigned yet, Jacob would do it. He'd do anything to avoid sitting and staring at his wall for ten hours. He thinks he has insomnia, but it could just be a symptom of the depression.
He only allowed a certain time slot for his thoughts to run wild. If he didn't keep to his routine, he'd go insane.
His family didn't see him often, not for a while. His parents didn't approve of him locking himself in his room all the time, but they got his report cards, ninety-five percent average, and he joined them for meals, so they didn't fight it. In fact, they just carried on with things. They would make jokes, "oh look, he's alive!", "well well well there's a surprise for you," and a couple "woah! Sorry, not used to seeing you". The jokes didn't make him want to spend time with them. Of course, if he told them that, they'd say that it's only a joke, he shouldn't be so sensitive. He would say he's not being sensitive, it makes him feel judged. They would tell him that he needs to stop taking everything so seriously, it was just a joke. He’s not laughing.
They don't understand. Sure maybe it's not their fault, maybe Jacob could've explained things better when he was formally diagnosed two years ago, or even when he first started feeling this way six years ago, but he knows it wouldn't matter. They can be sympathetic, but they'll never really understand. They'll never be empathetic, and Jacob knows this for sure. He knows this because when he told his mother he was depressed maybe four years ago, she brushed it off. She said, "Oh Jacob, I know it seems like that now, but just wait. You'll feel better soon," completely ignoring the fact that Jacob had said he'd felt like this for two years at that point. Things just went downhill from there.
Jacob has a lot of feelings about the past four years. Mostly nothing, but sometimes he'll be overcome with anger, then annoyance, and then that blissful emptiness. That wonderful nothing.
Months went by, and nothing changed. Not even his mom's attitude towards him. Jacob remembers when one of his friends found out by accident. He was keeping a secret, but said something he shouldn't have, which led to that friend finding something Jacob wanted to keep secret. He was nicer to Jacob for a while after that, it took Jacob a while to notice. Every time someone in the group would tease him, that friend would tell them to back off. Jacob didn't know where it was coming from at first, but was thankful nonetheless. Until he found screenshots of a conversation between that friend and another friend in the group, talking about Jacob's secret. His friend was only being nicer because of this secret.
Jacob was angry for a while. He didn't understand why being depressed was the only way to get them to stop teasing him, to stop making him the butt of the joke. Why couldn't they see that it doesn't matter if he's depressed or not, he shouldn't have to endure that much teasing. Then they went back to normal. And Jacob stopped feeling angry. He just felt empty.
There's a memory Jacob has, a memory of when he was maybe six, and it was his mother's birthday. His dad wanted him to stand next to him while they sang Happy Birthday to his mom, but instead he was knelt next to the coffee table untying his toy dog on wheels from the leg. He was still singing Happy Birthday, not to mention he was six, so it's not like he really understood anyway, but his dad got mad. He was taken upstairs to his room, and was yelled at, until he started crying. Jacob has a vague memory of being hit across the face, but looking back, he doesn't know if that really happened. He attributes that moment to his development of depression. He doesn't remember experiencing all the symptoms, but he does remember around Grade Six feeling like he will never be enough. He clearly remembers trying hard to fit in, but no one really wanted him around. He'd interact with people, but wouldn't get the same reaction as others did. He'd say something witty, and no one would laugh, but someone else would say a simplified version of it and suddenly they were the funniest person in the world.
Jacob has some issues.
Sometimes these memories made him angry, other times embarrassed, but more often than not they just reminded him why he doesn't belong.
A soft knock came from the door, and he heard his mother from the other side say, "Jacob, honey, are you awake yet?" Jacob sat up and pushed himself off the bed, walking to his door. He twisted the knob, pulling the door towards him and walked away to his dresser, pulling clothes out of the drawers. "Good morning sweetie, how are you?" His mom took a step into his room. A twinge of annoyance flickered in the back of his mind but he shoved it down, telling himself he has no right to feel that way. His parents didn't ask much of him, he has no right to be rude to them.
"I'm good fine, mom, only been awake for a bit so I don't really know if it's been a good day or a bad day yet," he turned to face her, smiling a bit. He had become an excellent liar over the years, able to hide his mood and fib his way through a conversation. "I'm gonna shower now though," he murmured, starting to walk towards the door. She smiled gently at him and stepped to the side, following him out and walking down the stairs.
As he lathered shampoo in his hair his head was filled with the usual back and forth debate on whether or not the people in his life actually cared about him. The evidence is pretty fifty fifty. An image of the gentle smile flashed across his mind, then he remembered a moment where his mother had said that he needed to get out in order to feel happier. But she isn't wrong, statistically speaking fresh air is better for you, and exercise releases endorphins that make him happy. On the other hand, he knew that if he went out without someone expecting him some place at some time, he wouldn't exactly be careful when crossing the street. He doesn't trust himself, and while he doesn't believe his family actually likes him as a person, he could never risk hurting them, no matter how much pain they've caused him.
That shower got depressing really fast. He shook his head and stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying himself off. He pulled on his clothes, brushed his teeth, moisturized and opened the door, heading down the hall and walking down the stairs. He greeted his dad, grabbed an apple, picked up his school bag and headed out the front door. Jacob dropped his bag in the passenger seat of his car and slid in behind the wheel, starting up the car and tapping his fingers on the wheel. Thirty seconds later the front door opened and slammed shut, and out of the corner of his eye he saw two figures moving across the lawn towards him. The locks made an audible sound when he locked them, just as the girl put her hand on the passenger side handle.
"Um Jake," she said, not looking very pleased. "What, do you think you're doing?"
Jacob rolled down the window and leaned over, smiling up at her. "Back seat is for people who crash their cars, Phoebs."
"Don't call me that it's not my name," she snapped back, her hand still on the handle. The boy behind her started snickering. "Shut it Pai." The boy's head snapped up, a scowl on his face now.
"Hypocrite." He muttered.
Jacob was still smiling. "You two, in the back. Now."
The girl still wouldn't let go of the door handle. They're going to be late at this rate.
"Only if you promise not to shorten our names anymore," she said, loosening her grip.
Jacob sighed. Well there goes all his fun. "Fine. Phoebus, Paieon, back seats. Let's go."
They smiled, the same smile, stupid twins and their identicalness. He unlocked the door and they slid into the back seats like plebeians, then they were off. The ride was filled with beautiful serenity. Just kidding. It was filled with the sounds of Phoebus and Paieon arguing, over something stupid no doubt. Jacob paid them little mind. He was very good at ignoring everything, from feelings to hunger pains, among other things, not to toot his own horn or anything. Those other things include overanalyzing, patronizing others, and most of all, worrying. He is very good at worrying. Soon they pulled up next to the school and the twins were dashing out of the still moving car (yikes!) shouting something along the lines of "see you at three ten". Jacob took a moment to himself to breathe, drawing up the energy and reinforcing his walls for the day. Each day got harder and harder, it was only a matter of time. You’re not here for yourself, you’re here for others. Your purpose is to serve until you are no longer needed.
A knock on his window startled him. He looked over to see a girl leaning down, her hair hanging freely and a furrow in her brow, She mimed cranking down the window, like in an old car. Jacob rolled down the window. "Yes?"
"Sorry," she said, biting her lip. "It's just uh, you looked I don't know, alone? I was wondering if you're okay?" Jacob's eyebrows rose in surprise. She must be new. "Yeah, I am new," she laughed a little, looking away then looking back at him. Her eyes seemed to look past his walls and see right into his soul. He didn't like it. Make it stop.
"I'm Jacob, but everyone around here calls me autistic mostly." Jacob said, staring right at her to gauge her reaction. She looked taken aback.
"Are you?"
That's a new one. Asking if he is autistic. He shook his head. "Just anti-social," he smiled half heartedly. She grinned.
"So I'm getting the most anyone's ever gotten out of you?" Jacob nodded his head, confirming. She smiled again, her eyes twinkling. There was something behind them, something he couldn't quite place. Oh well, must not be important. "Cool. Why don't we head in and you show me around, Jacob?" The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine, and he tried not to move so it wouldn't show. He smiled a little, and she stepped back to let him out. He locked the door behind him, and she wound herself around his free arm, the other shouldering his bag. Jacob looked down at her in surprise. No one has willingly gotten this close to him in a long time. The only time he had physical contact was during gym class.
He opened his mouth to say something but she forged on ahead, dragging him along with her. He was too confused and overwhelmed by this sudden change that he didn't notice they had arrived at his locker. He was still confused as he unlocked it, grabbing a textbook he had forgotten and closing it.
"Take me to the office? I need to get my schedule and student card." He nodded dumbly, letting himself once again be dragged along. She looked up at him and gave him another dazzling smile, and it took him walking into the wall for him to regain his focus. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand and set off through the hall, ignoring the looks from the students staring at the weirdo with a very beautiful new girl hanging off his arm. His mask rose, and his face went stoney. They arrived at the office and his second mask slipped into place. His customer service mask, if you would.
"Good morning Irene," he greeted the older woman behind the desk. She didn't look up. "I have a new student here who needs her student ID and timetable if that's not too much trouble?" Irene mumbled something. He leaned closer, "Pardon? I didn't quite catch that sorry."
She looked up at him as if he had personally wronged her family a thousand years ago, then repeated, "Name?"
Jacob froze for a second, just now realizing that she knew his name, but he didn't know hers. "Leah Marsh," she jumped in, still holding on to Jacob's arm. Would she ever let go? Irene muttered again, and Leah must have very good hearing because she laughed and said, "No no, we're not related. We just met," and she looked back up at him with that dazzling smile and that twinkle in her eye. Jacob's ears went red. She laughed.
Irene stood and grabbed something from a drawer, a piece of paper and a small plastic ID card, putting them on top of the half wall separating them before sitting back down. "Have a good day now," she murmured to her computer screen.
Jacob smiled, the polite boy his mother raised in him coming out. "Thank you, you too."
And they were off once again, Leah dragging Jacob out the door and around the corner.
"Let me see your schedule? I can help you find your classes before the bell goes." Jacob offered. He held out his hand, and Leah passed over the piece of paper. He scanned it, then scanned it again. He pulled out his phone and her the two items next to each other, looking back and forth. "Looks like we have all the same classes? Odd," he murmured.
"Cool!" Leah said. He glanced over at her and her face was brighter than the sun. How could one person be so happy? Doesn't it get tiresome?
"Well I guess we're heading to first period English," he handed back the schedule. "Come on, it's this way." He led her down the north hall, stuck inside his head again. He was so caught up in his own mind that he didn't notice Leach staring directly at him, not even looking where they were going. Which led to her knocking into someone, of course.
"Hey!" The kid exclaimed, outraged, until he got a good look at who he had bumped into. "Oh, hey," his voice changed, and Jacob finally snapped out of his thoughts and looked over.
"I'm so sorry, I was leading and I didn't see you," Jacob apologized, getting a good look at the kid. It's Matthew, one of the popular kids. He's a guard on the basketball team, though he should be post guard, what with his height. He was a tall lanky kid, and easily made three pointers. The only reason Jacob knew this is because one of his classes is Yearbook, which makes him a photographer for the school. You'd think that would make people be a little nicer to him, but nope. Still gets bullied.
Matthew sneered. "Who said you could speak, retard." Jacob looked at the ground, ashamed. He should've known better. Leah giving him attention does not make him liked by everyone else all of a sudden.
Leah laughed lightly, and he looked at her. "No, Jacob's right, we should have been paying attention. Sorry about that," she lifted one of her hands and held it vertically in front of her face. Odd. Jacob had never seen someone do that before. He'd never seen anyone like Leah before. She truly was a unique person.
Matthew looked her up and down, then smirked lightly. "Why are you hanging out with this retard?"
"We have all the same classes it seems, so he's showing me around." Leah smiled up at him and this time Jacob wished she hadn't. Matthew was glaring at him and if looks could kill, well let's just say Jacob wouldn't be doing too well.
"Why don't I show you around? You're not going to get much out of him, he doesn't talk." Matthew was speaking to Leah but was staring directly at Jacob. It was like Matthew was daring him to say something, prove him wrong, but Jacob knew better. Any time he spoke outside of class, weird things would happen. He'd suddenly trip, or his books would be knocked out of his hand, or even weirder, he'd be shoved head first into a locker. Strange.
Jacob said nothing. Leah looked back up at him, and finally noticed his whole demeanour had changed. He was rigid, stone face and looking at the ground. More than that he was closed off. The arm she was holding onto had gone limp, and he other hand was shoved into his pocket. She gently let go of his arm. Matthew smiled broadly. He held out his arm, as if he were a gentleman.
"Great, let's go." Matthew led the two of them down the hall, chatting animatedly. She didn't look back.
The next few hours passed in a haze of learning, note taking and teachers droning on, just as bored as their students. Jacob didn't understand why but he was somehow hurt from Leah ditching him. He shouldn't be, because everyone leaves him at some point, but she seemed different. There was something about her, she was warm, friendly, and she seemed genuine. Ah well, it doesn't matter now. She met Matthew and she was obviously getting along well with him. Jacob sat in the middle at the far side of his classes, trying not to draw attention to himself. He'd also somehow get there earlier than everyone else, and would keep his head down as people walked in. He noticed Leah walking in each time, but she didn't look at him. That solidified it in his mind: she wasn't worth the emotions he was feeling.
He focussed on the board, transferring the words from the board to his laptop, then don't get too comfortable, you're just a placeholder. He shook his head lightly, shaking away the unpleasant thoughts. Intrusive thoughts begone! He doesn't have time for this, he needs to take notes.
Lunch came and Leah walked right past him with Matthew and another girl named Clarissa. Matthew stared at him as they walked past, as if challenging him to say something, but Jacob knows his place. He looked down. Grabbing an iced tea from the cafeteria he paid for it and headed out a set of double doors to the lawn, finding a tree and climbing up into it. He pulled his apple out of his bag and bit into it, enjoying the peace up in the branches. It was quiet, birds chirping and kids laughing, tossing around a football or stretched out on the grass. Jacob looked up, captivated by the sun shining through the leaves.
This tree was his escape, no one else ever came out this far so no one else was there to bully him.
He stared out at the field, looking at each and every person. They know him, but they don't at the same time. They know his face, his speech (or lack thereof). What they don't know is his mannerisms, his story, his raison d'être, which really doesn't exist. They don't know that sometimes he cries himself to sleep, sometimes he doesn't sleep, and when he does, he dreams of everyone around him leaving. The haunting image of the backs of those he loves flashes across his eyes and this time he doesn't shake his head. He embraces it. They don't love him, it's just a fact. Well, they do, but they don't. What Jacob means is that they love him, because they're family, but they don't love him for him. They don't love his random outbursts of weirdness, standing in doorways like a creep, making horrible jokes. They don't love who he is as a person, and that's okay. Jacob can barely tolerate himself, how are others supposed to tolerate him?
Before he knows it, he's climbed to the very top of the tree, and he's leaping out of it,
falling
falling
falling.
He crashes to the ground hard on his arm and lets out an involuntary yelp, drawing the attention of the other students outside. Well shit. That's not what he was planning, but it's happened now and there's no going back. Some kids came running over, the ones who didn't really know him, and one asked if he was okay. Does he look like he's okay? He's pale, sweating, and his right arm is bent awkwardly. He is not okay. They send someone inside, and the kid who asked if he's alright kneels beside him, helping him lean against the tree. He spots Jacob's bag in the tree and stands up to grab it, pulling out his iced tea.
"Thanks man," Jacob says, accepting the drink.
"What happened?" The kid asked.
"I was trying to climb higher, but I must've slipped or something because next thing you know I'm falling."
"Hm," the kid pondered. What could he be pondering? "Cause from where I was it looked like you had jumped out," he looked sideways at Jacob, and his blood froze.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jacob stammered. The kid just looked at him coolly.
Before he could answer he was interrupted by someone else rushing over, calling his name.
"Jacob? Jacob!" He looked up, and saw it was Leah. She was followed closely by Matthew and Clarissa, and in no time she was kneeling on his other side, hands halfway through the air and her face riddled with worry. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Jacob just stared at her. What was she doing here? This was a complete turn around from how she had been acting earlier. Matthew and Clarissa had caught up. "I'm telling you Leah," Matthew was shaking his head, still wearing that stupid smirk. "He's not going to talk."
Leah glared at him before turning back to Jacob, looking at him softly. The pain from his arm was already starting to go away, which makes absolutely no sense at all. "Jake are you okay?" He felt that twinge of annoyance at the nickname, who was she to give him a nickname, but he shoved it down. He nodded.
"He fell out of the tree," the kid said. Jacob didn't know who he was, and he knows everyone. He has to, he's on yearbook.
"Oh my god, Jakey that's horrible! Is your arm hurt?" She lightly touched his broken arm and he hissed, drawing back a bit. From Jake to Jakey in less than a minute. Who was she? Why did she feel so comfortable with him, and why did he feel so comfortable with her? He just wanted to tell her everything was alright, but nothing was alright.
Leah looked up at the kid, a smile covering her face. "Thanks for coming to his rescue and letting me know. My name is Leah, nice to meet you," she held out her hand and the kid shook it.
"Erick," he replied, smiling tightly. How did Erick know to get Leah? What's with this kid?
"The retard is fine, Leah. Just leave him alone," Matthew said, growing impatient.
Leah whipped her head back to glower at him. "The 'retard'," she spat, emphasizing the slur, "is my mate, so back the fuck off."
What?
Matthew held his hands up, trying to calm her. "Woah, how was I supposed to know that?"
Leah just growled. It sounded animalistic. The gears in Jacob's mind started to turn. How she had shown up when he was in distress near her, how she had answered a question he had only thought, why she seemed so keen on attaching herself to him. But why did she leave him then? Why did she choose to go with Matthew over him? This doesn't make sense. First he has to accept that werewolves are real, she's much too warm to be a vampire, but she could be a selkie? Or any other mythical creature really. Jacob doesn't know, he doesn't know anything anymore. If they were werewolves, and that's a pretty big if, Jacob could understand why Matthew always hit him so hard, versus other people, like Max, or Grizz.
Jacob lifted his eyebrows. His arm is broken, he's been on an emotional rollercoaster today, and he would just like to know what's going on. So he said as much. "So, what pack are you guys from?"
"I'm a rogue," Leah replied, turning to look at him.
"Half Moon," Matthew responded offhandedly. Then he realized what he said. He put a sneer on, "What's it to you?"
"I'm human," Jacob shrugged, ignoring the pain.
"Ah," Matthew said, nodding. "Wait, what?" He looked at Leah, then back at Jacob. This is probably the first time they've held eye contact for this long. "How are you human?"
"Uh, good question. I just am? My whole family is human." Jacob replied.
Matthew shook his head. "No, your family is part of the other pack in this town, Rising Sun. You smell like them, so we all assumed that you just hadn't shifted yet, which is why we bully you. But you're saying you're human?"
None of this makes sense.
Jacob nodded. "Yep, that's what I'm saying. Guess I need to have a talk with my family about a certain furry secret." Jacob smirked. This'll be fun. God this day has been crazy, and it's not even halfway over. Wait a second, Leah said she's a rogue?
"So," Jacob looked at Leah. "You're a rogue?"
Leah stiffened. Touchy subject apparently. She nodded.
"And you're my mate,"
Leah brightened, "Yeah! I wanted to tell you, but you got so cold when we ran into Matty that I thought maybe you were going to reject me," she looked at the ground. She's lying. She wasn't going to tell him, she didn't want to tell him. She's only here now because of what they call the mate bond, and she couldn't exactly up and leave halfway towards running to him. Then she'd really look like a bitch. Jacob is seriously starting to doubt she actually wants to be mates with him.
"Fascinating," Jacob commented. Leah frowned. Jacob shook his head. "That there are werewolves," he explained. It was kinda cool. "So what other mythical creatures are real?"
Leah was about to launch into a whole explanation but she was cut off by Erick. "Shouldn't we get him to the office? His arm is still broken." Thank you Erick, for being the voice of reason. Jacob never would have remembered that the bone in his arm is broken if not for that comment. It's not like he couldn't feel the searing pain coming from the limb. How enlightening.
"That would be much appreciated," Jacob said instead. Erick helped him up, and Leah tried to help by grabbing his other arm, which was the broken arm. It did not help. She retracted her hands, demoting herself to just standing and walking beside him. Irene the office woman was not entirely impressed to see him, but called an ambulance nonetheless and he was off. He got his cast, bright pink of course, and was given some pain meds before being sent on his merry way.
He walked back to the school.
Since he was technically exempt from his afternoon classes but it was close to three ten so he just waited in the car. After bumming around on Tumblr for a bit, he finally heard the bell go, and not long after that his beloved younger twin siblings were racing out the school doors, headed right for the car. They tugged on the door handles impatiently, waiting for Jacob to unlock it. He finally did, and they slid in.
"Why are you out so early? Aren't your spares tomorrow?" Jacob lifted up his broken arm in response. He looked back at their faces, the picture of surprise. Eyebrows raised, mouths in the shape of a O. Hilarious. With that, Jacob started the car and drove off. When they got home, Phoebus slamming the door of course, the twins headed upstairs and Jacob strolled into the kitchen, ready for his talk with his parents.
"So I met my mate today," he said casually. His mom was typing on the computer, his dad filling out papers, and neither of them looked up.
"That's great sweetie," his mother said lightly, still not paying attention. Silence, then, "What did you say?"
"My mate," Jacob said louder. "I found her,"
"Mm not possible Jacob," his dad murmured. "You're not a werewolf."
"But you guys are," Suddenly they froze, finally tuning into the conversation.
Gotcha!
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revan-escence · 6 years ago
Text
5 years
In which Darth Nox writes to Darth Marr, after being released from carbonite.
[First time writing fic, so feedback appreciated!]
******
From: Darth Nox
Subject: Awaiting Response
 Dark Lord,
 I survived, despite the odds. Is there a chance that you have, also? Arcann kept me in carbonite in his trophy room for all of these years, so I still hold on to the thought that perhaps you have shared my fate. Lana Beniko was the one who orchestrated my rescue- and whilst successful, we are not in any position to return to the city centre and attempt a second rescue for you. In truth, I have not yet entertained the idea to Lana as of yet- we need time to recuperate.
 Either way, we have much to talk about the next time we meet, and I wait.
 Darth Nox
 ***
  From: Darth Nox
Subject: Valkorian
 Dark Lord,
 Everyone seems so determined to believe that you are dead, I feel as if I am the only person who can see.
 When Valkorian struck you down, he struck Arcann after with the same power. As I fell after having cut down the Emperor, I saw Arcann stand, in pain, but stand nonetheless, from where he was downed. Arcann is nothing to you, so of course, you must have survived. After all, I did, and I cannot be alone.
 I wrote that before realising the implications and the truth of it.
 Perhaps it is better that Valkorian chose me as a vessel rather than you. His body may have been destroyed, but his spirit has not, and it torments me with visions and ghosts in the likeness of our citizens, of Thanaton and Zash, that I must cut down lest my mind be destroyed. I will admit that it is not the first time I had experienced such- I have dealt with vengeful spirits in my head before, and I had left the ordeal stronger. Valkorian plagues me with these images, and he torments me with one I had not experienced before: now he delights with spirits done in the likeness of you, and feeds off the pain that it causes when I have to cut my way forward. I feel as if I should apologise for all the times I have had to do this, even though I know they weren’t really you. I’m not sure if it matters, anyway, if you are really in carbonite, then you would not be able to read these until you awake.
 Nevertheless, I will still write.
 Darth Nox
  ***
  From: Darth Nox
Subject: Insomnia
 Dark Lord,
 Valkorian has grown persistent in making me fight your shadows ever since I wrote to you last. I forget that he has access to my thoughts and memories while we share a mind, and I detest him for it. I am determined to stop these, and since I am only targeted when I sleep so far, I have opted to use the Force to provide me with the rest that I need, and to not sleep at all.
 I cannot vouch for what the aftereffects would be, but I never wanted to fight you, or your likeness.
 Darth Nox
  ***
  From: Darth Nox
Subject: Companionship
 Dark Lord,
 Asylum seems to be a merge of Rishi and Belsavis; I cannot quite place my finger as on why on the latter. My chosen companion as of late are always Senya or HK-55- Theron and Lana are constantly hiding and revealing secrets and reservations about the other’s chosen company or choices, and I grow quite tired of their constant bickering. Senya, on one hand, at least knows how to deal with children, and HK-55 offers amusing comments and an unbridled enthusiasm for murder that I can appreciate.
 I only write this so that you know that your temporary retirement from action has led to my constant headache.
 Perhaps you are not frozen in carbonite as I previously thought, and in fact you are isolated on a distant planet, regaining strength or forces, and my messages are a source of amusement as you hear updates on the clashes between my followers. Perhaps you cannot reply because you cannot risk Valkorian knowing. Either way, I can wait. I can be patient when I need to be, and circumstances call for me to be such.
 All you need to do is send the word.
  ***
  From: Darth Nox
Subject: Please
 Darth Marr,
 Send me something so I know that you’re alive, a messenger from your gathered forces, or a dream. I will risk my nightmares even if that means you would have a chance to reach out to me. I need you back.
  ***
 From: Darth Nox
Subject: Apologies.
 Forgive me for my last message and lack of professionalism. It was born from panic after being under attack by Arcann. Do not risk your position because of what I wrote.
 Darth Nox
  ***
 From: Darth Nox
Subject: Fate
 Dark Lord,
 The main reason why I have broken my streak of silence is because even Lana has begun talking about “Fate” and “Destiny” and what my role is in correlation to all of this, and I needed a reason to escape that harangue. I do not believe in such, I believe that my choices determine my future, not what something unseen wills.  
 To submit to the claims of Fate is to insult my past and the efforts and sacrifices I had to make to become a Dark Lord of the Sith. I did not earn my seat alongside yours through puppetry, and I am certain that you would agree with my sentiments.
 People still speak of your death freely, as if it happened an eternity ago- and perhaps that is true, to an extent. If I be honest, I had overwhelming respect for you, and I would have followed you to each and every battle, fought by your side and cut down anyone who considered you an enemy. You were the only person who treated me more than a means to an end, and I have questioned where my respect ended, and what followed after, and how far. Would it be too far to presume that there was love in there, somewhere? Everyone else had five years to mourn your passing, and they forget that I was not given any such luxury. I suppose that I must admit that this is as close of a confession that I miss your company- ever since I was woken up from carbonite, I had not been given any number of days to sit by myself and grieve over the events of that day and what followed and what we have both lost. Perhaps that is why I make mistakes.
 I have made so many mistakes. But it’s fine, because I know you are alive.
 Darth Nox
  ***
  From: Darth Nox
Subject: Empress Acina
 Dark Lord,
 It seems that Darth Acina has promoted herself. I cannot say this bodes well- I recall that you said yourself that you had no desire to take Vitiate’s position when it was first offered, and that we both had work to do while the other Darths squabbled over who took the seat. Perhaps we were the only sensible ones who took our roles seriously.
 As the Darth Lord of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, I do believe that I had done rather excellently, even amassing my own collection of datacrons that were previously considered lost to us. Some of the knowledge may prove itself useful to you, when we are both able, I am willing to offer you the use of my own personal library. Sometimes the ancients hold secrets that prove incredibly useful in modern battles and strategies.
 I can also offer tea, should that sway your decision.
 Darth Nox
***
 From: Darth Nox
Subject: [NO SUBJECT]
 I saw you.
 On Odessan.
 For the first time I was free from Valkorian, I saw you, exactly the same as I’ve remembered you, and I had so much to say. I was ready to spill my guts in front of you, to show you my emotions, my thoughts that I’ve forbidden myself to dwell while I still had the Emperor in my head. I would have, if the Jedi wasn’t there. I bit my tongue and kept silent about the few messages I’ve sent you, and the thousands that I did not, the nights of desperation and wrestling between denial and wilful ignorance. You said nothing about my messages either, and I know you had never read one. How could you? You are one with the Force.
 There will be no more moments between us.
 When I returned to the base, I pretended that nothing was wrong, that I was still as stoic and emotionless that everyone imagined me to be, and continued the plans of assault. I cried alone, for hours, for the first time since I was a slave. Tonight, I will let myself sleep for the first time, and find out if Valkorian has any new nightmares to torment me with.
 I was an idiot for ever thinking there was hope.
  ***
 From: Darth Nox
Subject: It does not matter, you will never be able to read my messages
 Darth Marr,
 Despite my efforts, Fate won.
 I must prevail. I must overthrow Arcann. I must kill Vitiate. And I must take over the Eternal Throne to protect our Empire. Am I not allowed the luxury of a choice? At least an illusion of it? Is it fair that everyone else can revel in hope, in the knowledge that their freedom is secure, whilst I must sacrifice my own to become something that I am not?
 I was a slave, once. Did you know that? I was branded by my masters and sent to work in the mines. What is it that we were taught when we were all acolytes? Peace is a lie, there is only passion? Through passion, I gain strength? Through strength, I gain power? Through power, I gain victory? Through victory, my chains are broken?
The Force shall free me.
 The Force is a liar.
 It seems that all my life, I’ve lived nothing but an illusion. All I wanted, when I broke rocks and starved and was flayed until I bled, was to be free from the torment that I was subject to since I was born. I was given a choice after one punishment, and I took it, and I ended up on the brink of death for my punishment, before being sent to Korriban. Was that the will of the Force? Did the Force also decide that my master only planned on using me to extend her own life? Did the Force choose that Thanaton would try to kill me? I never asked for him to challenge me to a Kaggath, I would have been happy with a master without a mission to kill me, I would have been happy with the title of Lord Kallig. Despite what Ravage believed, I never intended to climb to the position of Darth, or be the head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge (although I took the position, and took it seriously). All I wanted was to not be a slave, and to do with my freedom how I choose. But Fate has a hand, it seems, so I’ve been told multiple times, and I never truly broke from being a slave, whether to a Hutt or to the Empire, or to the Force, and I will never have my freedom again.
 I will never be me again.
 I will still keep fighting this fight, organising attacks, and follow through on the promises I made to no one. I will take the Throne, become the new Emperor, and be what everyone expects me to be, until I die, to which some progeny of mine would take over. A dull life, but Alderaan nobles have always lived similar lives, so why not me?
 My hate and strength keeps me going, and it warms everyone in my vicinity to prevail alongside, despite the odds. I will not deprive my companions of this, but when my own death comes, the galaxy will know the cold of a pyre extinguished, and maybe then they will take note of my presence. But even then they will just find someone who burnt as brightly as I did, to replace the coals I left behind.
 I don’t want the Throne. I’ve only wanted you back. But it seems Destiny chose otherwise.
 Darth Nox
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gwiiyeoweo · 5 years ago
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Umbra sends Noctis way, waaaaay into the past and into Somnus' own bed. Well, the second part he did himself.
Pairing: Noctis/Somnus Rating: Explicit
The Royal Lucian genes are a helluva thing. 
When Regis once remarked how similar his son looked to his father Mors, Noctis thought it was pretty common and definitely nothing out of the ordinary. If his biology classes taught him anything, it was that grandchildren can bear a striking resemblance to their grandparents compared to their parents. Noctis had only seen Mors through news articles and the grand portrait adorning the Hall of Kings, its walls dedicated solely to the everlasting frames of royals past. He couldn't really see how a gray-haired man could look so close to 15-year old him, but when he Moogled a younger snapshot of Mors he almost mistook the old photo as himself.
There were definite similarities in bone structure and hell, even that tiny mole near the corner of their mouths. 
But this? This is like staring into a straight-up reflection.
He’s literally looking up, eyes half-lidded and face twisted in pleasure with a touch of pain, but through the haze of heat lighting up his body and mind, Noctis can’t help but think of the irony and plot twist and — 
“You’re thinking again,” Somnus reprimands, voice just a mark away from a growl, “of something other than me.” 
As if in punishment, the man digs his fingers into Noctis’ thighs — just another set of marks to add to the blooming bruises along his wrists and the curious rough circles on his collarbones and neck — and hoists his hips up into a better angle to slam himself into. 
It does the trick. Something like fire and lightning, something like magic hits Noctis in all the worst and best ways, and he scrambles for purchase, hands flinging up to claw at the pillows as he arches his back and keens.
He’s learned that Somnus can be gentle in his own ways, if one overlooks the narcissism that veils his true heart — a heart that, beyond blood and family and love, treasures his people and will tread through fire and sacrifices if (when) necessary. But the young king makes for a rough and merciless lover. With every brutal thrust, he draws out a sob and smiles ever the wider for it, Noctis’ wanton cries a sweet music to his ears. He only slows when he has Noctis babbling his name in an incoherent string of stammers and gasps, rewarding him with a soft kiss to his temple before he picks up the unrelenting pace again. “Much better,” he purrs, watching the way his near-copy writhes and sings with a gaze that scorches.
Noctis will admit, that fucking his great-great-great-great-whatever grandfather was never on his agenda; though given the many generations separating their blood, they were probably just as related, if not less, as he would be to Ignis or Gladio, considering how their families were borne out of the Caelum line to begin with. Hell, being transported all the way to this ancient Lucian era was a minor surprise to this fork in the road. The night before they set off for Ardyn and Insomnia, to reclaim the throne and bring back the light, he asked Umbra for a last trip down memory lane, only for the dog to throw him ages further and in free fall thousands of feet up. Good thing he was used to falling by now, and he was never more thankful to still have his warping powers and the Armiger. 
Except, he sort of screwed himself over by warping right in front of Somnus Fucking Lucis Caelum. 
‘Shiva’s tits, ’ he couldn’t help but think, not out of fear or anxiety but because Somnus looked exactly like he did when he was still twenty. He thought he must have landed in a time before all that… shit went down between the two, before Ardyn turned saint turned martyr trying to foolishly save the world one person at a time. Before Somnus went with the ‘go big or go home’ method and burned down anything that did so much as cough.
Before their clashing ideologies led them to clashing swords. 
He never really thought he’d be grateful for being stuck in the purgatory known as the Crystal, but it’s a perk to see their ancient history play across his eyelids like a giant home theater. 
Somnus probably shared similar thoughts at seeing his living reflection, considering the bulging eyes and the white cast across his face — which, really, would have been rather comical in any other circumstances — but it wasn’t until later when Noctis was one hundred percent sure that had been the reason, when he looked in the mirror and realized he was smaller and younger and twenty again. Because while Noctis thought he was looking at a past version of himself, Somnus was looking at a near replica of his own. Age and all, minus the hairstyle.
Without revealing his true origins and the outcome of the future, Noctis had to think on the fly, and he still curses himself for not having the same quick mind that Ignis does (Did? Would? Time travel is weird). 
“I’m a Messenger,” he said a second too fast, internally beating himself up for being so godsdamn stupid. “I didn’t have a physical form, so I took on the first one I saw. You.”
It worked out in his favor that Somnus was never a god-fearing man, a downright heretic compared to Ardyn, but that explanation was enough to satisfy him. And his ego, probably, that a demigod would choose to liken himself to Somnus’ visage. Oh, and that he currently has said demigod moaning and flushed beneath him, pliant and desperate and sobbing with ecstasy.
“Somnus, ” Noctis cries out, hands moving from the pillow to grab at the man’s arms, blunt nails leaving pink trails in their wake. 
Somnus smiles at that, wicked and slow despite the exertion that sweats down his skin and brow. He recognizes the sudden tightness around his cock, of Noctis clenching around him and his stomach straining its muscles, as well as the swell that coils within his own. 
“Hold on, pretty thing,” Somnus purrs, moving one hand from Noctis’ thigh to his cock, keeping a grip just a hair from pain but miles away from release. “Together we go.”
‘Arrogant prick, ’ Noctis thinks, despite the frustration and heat haze of pleasure filling his mind to the brim. Somnus may as well stand in front of a mirror and flirt with himself if he’s going to continue spewing words like that at someone who looks exactly like him. But he’s teetering on the edge, held back by a cruel hand and a vicious pace, and he’s desperate enough to even meet Somnus’ thrusts by rocking his own hips in conjunction. 
It’s not long until Somnus gives out, and Noctis thinks he blanks out for a moment when all he sees is white, when that same exhilaration runs through his nerves and spine and taps into something deeper than a great orgasm ever could. 
Their first time together, Noctis was stuck between fear and wonder when he came to the realization that his magic, as faint as it is ever since it had been culled by that Marilith attack, was reaching out toward Somnus’ own and that — yeah. That’s kinda weird.
He’s had sex with others before, men and women alike, some ending poorly and others fan-fucking-tastic. But that whole magic thing? Still virgin territory. The side-effects of fucking another Caelum, he now knows. He still hasn’t hashed out the details of it, though Somnus is becoming ever the wiser about it, who first chalked it up to the benefit of fucking a so-called Messenger but now has his own suspicions. A matter of time before the ruse is up and Noctis has to come clean about it all like, “Hey! I’m actually from the future and your great-times-a-hundred-somethin’-grandson. The future’s shit, by the way, cause Bahamut and all of you are dumbasses!”
But for now, Somnus cleans them up with nary a fuss about dirtying his dainty royal hands as he wipes them both down with a wet cloth, which is surprisingly soft and fluffy for their time period. Sure, he could be a dick and a half when it came to his personality, but Noctis likes to think of him as a prissy cat that actually loves cuddles and attention. Especially when Somnus drapes an arm around him and practically buries his face into the crook of Noctis’ neck, breathing in their combined scents of each other and their aftermath. 
Noctis gently rakes his fingers through the man’s scalp and stares at the ceiling of the canopy bed, wondering how exactly his new ‘future’ will play out. He doesn’t know if or when Umbra will return to take him to the present — he turns his head at every faint bark he hears, and Somnus teases him for it relentlessly — and he damn well doesn’t know if anything he does here will change the timeline anyway. But he likes to believe and hope that he can do at least something, anything to lessen the blows of tragedy when they come. 
“You’re thinking again,” Somnus sighs, though his tone is less out of irritation and more of concern. Noctis has figured out how to read these tiny differences, like how those brows like to just slightly crease when worried or how he sets his jaw when angered. His eyebrows are lowered, barely, as his gaze searches for the cracks of truth hidden beneath Noctis’ true face. Too bad he won’t be getting them, not now. “After such a rousing time, even.”
“Messenger problems.” Noctis turns his head to return the gaze, but less inquisitive and more secretive. 
“Then tell me, dear night.”
Noctis feels something funky in his chest. Which he’s quick to ignore because he definitely does not want to admit what it is. He lightly taps his forehead against Somnus’ own, craning his neck slightly to meet each other, and does his damned hardest to look at him with as much feigned honesty as he can muster. It’s gotten easier lately, to lie and twist half-truths, but not without effort. 
“One day. When you’re ready.” 
‘When I’m ready, ’ he means instead. He wants to trust Somnus, but he won’t be ready for the backlash if the worst case scenario happens. 
Somnus stares back, lips working themselves into a retort and Noctis expects an argument or a demand to know now. It wouldn’t be the first they clashed with words, Somnus standing on his pedestal and believing his birthright and lineage granted him the secret musings of the gods with Noctis standing just as stalwart and refusing to budge. But tonight instead, he harrumphs and concedes to their middle ground, closing his eyes and burying his face further into the crease between Noctis and the pillows to murmur, “It best be soon, Noctis. I am not known for my patience, unlike my long-suffering brother.”  
Noctis only manages a hum, pushing back the anxieties and what-if’s should that time come. When it comes, he corrects. He knows it’s inevitable, that the truth will rear its head one way or another. But it’s up to him on how it’ll all play out and if the results will end up in fortune or disaster. 
Right now, though, he’s exhausted — the good kind, not the fatigue that makes his bones ache and his muscles quiver — and Somnus is true to his name, pulling Noctis into sleep with his warmth and soft breath ghosting across skin. He’ll put more thought into it in the morning, come up with a more serious plan rather than half-ass snippets. Sooner rather than later, because Noctis isn’t known for his patience either.
“Goodnight,” Somnus manages through the lethargy in his voice.
“Good… sleep.” Noctis glances down in hopes of catching a reaction to his pun.
And he does, when Somnus opens his eyes for just a moment to make sure the other catches his definite eye roll. Noctis smiles at that, and he takes that image with him into his dreams.
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naptis-lucis-caelum · 7 years ago
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A fluffy drabble where Fem!Reader, a happy go lucky yet dense childhood friend of Ignis and Ignis' crush which Gladio only knows about it, decided to cheer him up from a stress day of work as she gets him a day off and they had a day out in the city where there are some people who mistaken them as a couple. At the end, Ignis decides to confess to her. Thank you very much as I enjoy reading the drabbles you wrote 😁
y'all know I’m always down for some Iggy luvin~ and thank you dear nonnie, here’s your request!
“Iggy, you said 8:30…” you groaned to yourself, checking the time on your phone and shaking your head. You sighed, resting your chin on your hand and staring out the huge window next to you.
It was already 9 PM and there was no sign of him anywhere. He didn’t even bother sending you a quick text telling you that he’d be late. This was a reoccurring behaviour you’d noticed over the last couple week; Iggy would ask you to see him—coffee, lunch, dinner, breakfast—set up a time, and turn up late. The last time you agreed to go out, he kept you waiting for 2 hours.
You knew the implications of his job, however, and you couldn’t fault him for being so Six damn good at it. Growing up with the future King’s Royal Advisor (in turn causing you to grow up with the rest of the retinue) offered you a better understanding of the seriousness in being a part of the Crownsguard. It was a job one should never take lightly, but Iggy’s life revolved around his job. His job was his life.
“My dear, I’m so sorry I’m late!”
The familiar voice snapped you out of your deep thinking and you caught a glimpse of him settling down across you. With disheveled hair, crooked glasses, and exhausted features, you knew for a fact that he didn’t just wake up—he had just left work.
“On the bright side,” you sighed, “it didn’t take you 2 hours to get here.”
He shook his head, “Half an hour isn’t any better, but we had a very busy day at the Citadel, and with the treaty signing and Noct’s engagement to Lady Lunafreya, we’ve all been quite—”
“Chill, Iggy. I know.”
“But it’s no excuse,” he corrected himself. “I kept you waiting and I let my job take over my life once again.”
You could hear the disappointment in his voice, and you couldn’t help but release your own frustrations with him. He rested his right elbow on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to hide his shame. Gently, you took his gloved hand away from his face and held it gently.
“Since you’re gonna be gone for a while, why don’t you take a day off and spend it with me?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.
Just as he was about to refuse, the look on your face stopped him there and then. He shot you a soft smile and tightened his grip with your hand.
“I could never refuse you.”
Luckily for you, asking Noct to give Iggy a day off wasn’t a challenging task. If anything, Noct was more than happy to give him up for a day and even insisted you bring Gladio with (to which you profusely rejected, because you all knew the Prince needed to train his “scrawny” ass) so he could spend his day playing video games.
You stepped outside of your apartment building in a floral sundress, sandals, and a rattan bag to match. As you shoved your keys into your purse, you looked up and found the Royal Advisor leaning by the driver’s door, arms crossed in patience. If the Regalia’s shiny exterior and custom wheels weren’t a dead giveaway of who you were about to enter the car with, the plate number was a sure reason for your neighbours to throw you some shady looks.
“I could’ve driven us, you know,” you said as Iggy followed you to the passenger’s seat.
“Don’t be silly,” he replied as he held the door open for you. “Having you in the passenger’s seat is one of my greatest honours in life.”
You laughed at the flawless delivery of his statement before bending down and plopping on the seat. Iggy started to walk around to the driver’s seat, making sure to walk behind in the trunk as he took his phone out and began tapping away.
IgnisScientia: I want to tell her how I feel, Gladio.
CupNoodleDaddy: then just tell her?
IgnisScientia: How in the Astrals’ holy name am I supposed to do that? This is your area of expertise, not mine.
CupNoodleDaddy: you’re our tactician, aren’t ya? you’ll figure something out ;)
Iggy huffed in annoyance at Gladio’s teasing remark.
CupNoodleDaddy: but maybe you should start by putting your phone away and NEVER TOUCHING IT WHILE YOU’RE WITH HER. go get her ;)
He pulled up the chair for you and allowed you to settle in before heading over to his side of the table. The waiter handed both of you the menu, and as you read through what they had to offer, the waiter had something else in mind.
“We also have a Lover’s Brunch menu for this lovely couple,” he suggested, passing along a laminated menu. “It has two of everything, plus you’d be saving some money!”
The Insomnia heat was a killer, but it was nothing compared to the heat rushing through Iggy’s face at that moment. He shot you a petrified look as he watched you giggle at the waiter’s assumption. He wanted to open his mouth and correct him, but his voice seemed to have disappeared into thin air.
“That’s a lovely suggestion, but we’re just friends,” you spoke on his behalf.
He looked through the menu, and while he found their choices pleasing, the idea of sharing anything with you made his heart race. The menu also offered a cup of Ebony, and who was he to say no to that?
“Actually,” he cleared his throat. “I’m quite alright with their selection… i-if you are, of course.”
Did he just stutter?
You knitted your brows at his jumpy attitude but decided to ignore it. “Alright then,” you nodded. “Looks like we’re a couple throughout the duration of this brunch.”
This mistaken identity situation became a constant thing throughout the whole day—the lady serving you ice cream, the man at the clothes store, even the owner of the dog you pet. It was like the Astrals were screaming at Iggy to just grab his balls and spit it right out! Having kept his budding affection for you for more than half a decade wasn’t how he had planned on going about his relationship with you, but you never seemed to take the idea of dating him seriously. You only laughed it off whenever the possibility was suggested or implied, claiming that Iggy was “married to his job” or “his job would throw a fit if it found out he had me as a mistress!”
But then again, he couldn’t really blame you. His loyalty has, does, and will always remain to the crown. Nothing in Eos could tear him away from his responsibilities as the Royal Advisor.
Nothing but you.
His foot subconsciously stepped on the break as you approached your apartment building, and he realised he’d been driving on autopilot the whole trip home. As you continued speaking, he shook his head in an attempt to mask the argument he was just having with himself. Suddenly, you wrapped your fingers around his and gave it a tight squeeze.
“I had lots of fun today, Iggy. I hope you did too.”
A soft smile formed on his face, “A wonderful time as always, my dear.”
Shakily, he pulled your intertwined fingers up and gave your hand a soft kiss. He gauged your reaction, and based on the bright red that began to taint your cheeks, he was almost certain you returned his feelings. He brought your hands down but continued to hold on, his thumb grazing over your skin lightly.
“We depart for Altissia in a matter of weeks, and if something were to happen…”
You shook your head, “Don’t say that, Iggy.”
“I would never forgive myself if I never tell you.”
“Tell me… tell me what?” you asked, inhaling sharply.
After a few seconds of silence, your hand was empty of Iggy’s but his lips were now pressed against yours. A force of shock overtook your body for half a second, but you immediately melted into his strong arms. His hands snaked up to the sides of your face, cupping it lovingly while he attempted to remember everything about this perfect moment—your taste, your scent, how fast his heart was beating—everything.
He finally pulled away and immediately sunk back into his seat, facing the windshield with his hands on the wheel. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but pulled back at the last second.
“Iggy, how—” you swallowed hard, “how long?”
He sighed, “You are my first, and still the only person I hold these affections for.”
“Affections?” you repeated after him. “What kind of affections, Iggy?” you asked with a sly grin. You knew that you were making him slightly uncomfortable by confronting him about his feelings for you, and while it was all for good fun, you needed to hear it.
“You already know,” he answered simply.
You shook your head, “Affections can mean a lot of things. I love Gladio because he’s always there to protect us. I love Noct because he has such a kind heart. I love Prompto because he’s such a cute—”
“I love you.”
You blinked, “You love me?”
“Yes, I love you,” he rolled his eyes at that mischievous look on your face. “I’ve loved you ever since I became aware that I held the emotional capacity to do so. I loved you every time you opened the door fresh out of bed, I loved you every time you had your heart broken, I loved you every time you rested your head on my shoulder.”
“Iggy—”“And I love you now—at this very second—more than ever. My love grows for you each passing day, and it was foolish of me to keep it under wraps after all these years.”
“Iggy,” you called out. “I… I love you too.”
A sigh of relief escaped his lips before he crashed down upon you once again. “About damn time,” he murmured in between kisses, making you giggle. 
Readjusting his crooked glasses, you asked, “So… wanna come up for coffee?”
“Will you share your Ebony?” he responded with a raised eyebrow.
You laughed, “You’re my boyfriend now, Iggy. Of course I’d share my Ebony with you.”
Boyfriend. He could get used to that.
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