#rather than the room temperature water from last night

[keeryhours]

teen pregnancy series - eddie munson part 1

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Summary:

A broken condom leads to the end of your life as you knew it.

Part 2

Warnings:

Smut (18+), oral (m and f receiving), p in v, fingering, pregnancy, threatened miscarriage, drug use (weed), shitty parents, Al Munson

Word Count: 19.2k

A/N:

I am literally the most impatient person in the world so here’s part 1 early! Part 2 will be out very soon, I’m locked in. Thank you @glassbxttless for my banner and for reading this ❤️

You loved waking up next to Eddie.

The soft rise and fall of his breathing, the wild way his hair would be splayed out across the pillow, his lips parted as he snored lightly, the peaceful look on his handsome face. Sometimes you would just watch him sleep. Other times you would trace his tattoos until he woke with a smile.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he’d say, his voice still dripping with sleep.

“Good morning yourself,” you’d say back.

This was what it was like most mornings you woke up with Eddie. It wasn’t hard to sneak into his place at night. Your parents went to sleep at 9pm on the dot, all too easy to slip out your window and to your bike. You didn’t even have to sneak into Eddie’s, the front door was fine - Wayne worked nights, and you didn’t think he’d care either way. Wayne loved you.

There was nothing quite like sleeping in Eddie’s arms. It was your safe place. Warm and cozy, like being enveloped in pure love. It was no wonder you’d rather spend the night there than in your cold bed alone with parents who didn’t particularly like you anyway.

It was the alarm that woke you up this day. Fucking school day. The alarm clock blared bright and early at 5:30am - earlier than Eddie would usually get up, but it took you a bit longer to get ready.

You shut the alarm off so as not to wake Eddie up too much and sat up in bed with a big stretch and a yawn. Eddie grabbed onto your arm as you were climbing out of bed.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, not even moving his face from where it was half buried in his pillow and covered by his disheveled hair.

“I gotta get ready, baby,” you told him. “We have school.”

“Fuck school,” he said, voice muffled.

You laughed. “Babe, we have to go.”

He shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I just wanna stay in bed with you all day.”

“I want that too,” you said, and god, you did. “But we can’t.”

Eddie groaned but relented, letting you get up. You slid off the bed, turning for one last look at him. He was sleeping on his belly, arms wrapped around his pillow. His head was turned to the side, but you couldn’t see any of his face for all the hair. The comforter rested just at his hips, and he was naked beneath it. You admired his body, his tattoos, the slightest glimpse of the curve of his ass before the blanket hid it away from your eyes. You have to force yourself to look away.

Naked yourself, you slip on one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of panties you’d packed for now. You yawned again as you walked out of Eddie’s room and down the hall to the bathroom. Wayne was asleep on the fold out bed in the living room, probably just now passed out from work. You started up the shower, the finicky faucet taking a few minutes to get to the right temperature.

When you were satisfied, you stripped again, sitting a towel on the side of the sink and then climbing into the hot water. You always kept some shower stuff at Eddie’s, god knows you were over at his place enough.

You closed your eyes under the torrent of water. At least the water pressure at the trailer was good. You were just about to start shampooing your hair when you felt a familiar pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, a head on your shoulder, kissing your neck.

You melted back into the embrace, a smile crossing your lips. You could feel him hard behind you, his kisses on your neck turning needier and sloppy, biting down every now and then. He always liked to mark you up.

“Need you,” he grumbled against your skin, fingers tightening on your body as if to prove his point. 

You chuckled breathlessly. “Last night wasn’t enough for you?”

“Never enough,” he growled. “You know I can’t control myself when you’re in my house, taking showers, walking around like this. And all mine.”

You gasped when he spun you around, pressing your back against the shower wall and kissing you deeply, aggressively. You kissed him back just as eagerly, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. He lifted your leg, his tip pressing against your entrance, then- “Fuck. No condom.”

“Like at all?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“We used our last ones last night. I need to buy more.” He groaned, forehead falling onto your shoulder. “Shit!”

“It’s okay,” you said, trailing a hand up his side. “I can still get you off?”

He leaned back to look at you. “Are you sure? You don’t have to. I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you said, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes as you sunk to your knees. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie whispered, cock twitching as he watched you get on your knees for him. The way you looked up at him from down there was…fuck, he’d never seen anything like it. No porno in the world could ever compare.

His hand slid through your hair as you opened your mouth for him, he tapped his cock on your tongue, rubbing the underside of it there, a low groan spilling unwillingly from his lips.

“We have to be quiet,” he said, “Wayne is right out there.”

“I think you should be telling yourself that, big boy,” you teased. You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked, and he lurched forward, free hand landing on the shower wall behind you.

He let out a low “Ahhhh”, a mix between a hiss and a moan as you took him further into your mouth. “That’s my girl.”

You moaned around him, deep throating his impressive length properly as he watched you in amazement, his eyes half lidded, lips parted. His hand caressed the side of your head as you pleasured him, like he was so appreciative but didn’t know the words to say, if there were any. Maybe the best thanks he could give you is just to enjoy it now - and bury himself between your thighs until he can’t breathe later. Maybe you’d sit on his face. He fucking loved that.

“Baby, baby,” he moaned in a near whisper, delicious groans spilling from his lips after. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this.”

You hummed around him, making his hips jerk into your mouth. You always knew exactly how to get him going, exactly what made him weak in the knees, what made him fall apart. And oh, was he falling apart above you.

His breathing turned to pants, his slender tattooed chest rising and falling rapidly. His hand tightened in your hair, thighs beginning to shake.

“Gonna cum,” he warned you in a whisper. “Fuck, I’m- don’t stop, I’m so close-“

You didn’t stop. You worked even harder, working for what he was about to give you, showing him how bad you wanted it - needed it. You bobbed your head on his cock quickly, tongue working the underside, and his expression looked pained.

“Fuck,” he panted. “Baby, baby, I-“

He threw his head back with a cry as it hit him, his dick pulsing as he shot his cum into your waiting mouth. He quickly looked back down, watching you take it, watching you swallow every drop of what he was giving you as he moaned, seemingly forgetting all about being quiet.

When you pulled off of him, he was leaning against the shower wall. He looked like a total vision like this, lean naked body against the wall, wet hair hanging down his shoulders, breathing heavily and dripping wet. You had the intense urge to lick every inch of his body.

“Fuckin’ incredible,” he finally said, pulling you to him again and kissing you. He didn’t care that there was still the slightest bit of him still on your tongue. He licked into your mouth anyway, tasting all of you, the mixture of the two of you. “I want to devour you, baby, please.”

“We don’t have time,” you said regrettably. “But later.” A wink.

Eddie smirked at you as you both continued with your shower, washing your hair and washing each other’s bodies. Eddie was hard again by the time the shower was over, but there was no time for more.

You stepped out with a towel around your body and one around your hair. Eddie grabbed one and wrapped it around his waist. God, he looked so hot like this.

“Let me help you,” you said. You grabbed the curl cream you had bought him and put some in your hands, rubbing the product through Eddie’s hair. The poor guy had no idea how to take care of his curls before you met him. His hair was always so frizzy, and one day you were just like - “You know it doesn’t have to be that way, right?”

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed as you did his hair. He had to admit, he absolutely loved when you did this. It was so relaxing. He had never had someone take care of his hair for him. He barely did it himself before you.

When he was taken care of, you did your own hair while Eddie brushed his teeth then shaved. You brushed your own teeth then applied your makeup while he splashed his familiar aftershave on his cheeks.

He pulled on his boxers and you snuck back to his room in your towel. You knew there was nothing to worry about, Wayne slept after work until the afternoon. You searched through your overnight bag, finding the skirt and top you planned to wear today.

Eddie couldn’t handle how put together you looked. His beautiful girl. He couldn’t believe you were his.

He pulled his jeans on with a Hellfire shirt and his denim jacket. “You know you can leave some clothes and stuff over here?”

“I already do,” you giggled, thinking of the multiple bras and underwear sets stuffed in his dresser, the curling iron you kept here, the shower stuff and self care.

“Yeah but…” He shrugged. “You could keep more. Keep a whole wardrobe here, I don’t care. You sleep here more than at your own house anyway.”

“Edward Munson,” you said, lightly slapping his chest with a smile. “Are you trying to get me to move in?”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked, sliding his arms around your waist.

“Baby,” you said, a slight giggle. “We’re still in high school.”

“Yeah, but we’re both adults, technically. I’m almost 20, you’re 18…”

“You still live with your uncle, and I don’t think there’s a world where my parents would allow it, Eddie.”

The mention of your parents soured the mood. Your parents sucked. They were mean, self centered snobs, and they hated Eddie. They never even seemed that crazy about you.

“Fuck your parents,” Eddie said, a sentiment he held often. “You’re a big girl.”

You shook your head, a smile playing at your lips. “Maybe after high school? I don’t want to intrude on Wayne either.”

“Wayne loves you.”

“He already has one freeloader,” you teased.

“Hey!” he said, mock offended. “I’ll have you know my dealing business brings in lots of money.”

The drug dealing was a sore subject. You hated that he did it, but he wasn’t willing to give it up. He made a lot of money from it, enough to help out Wayne and take you on dates and get things he wanted and needed. In his mind, it was a great gig. In your own, you saw visions of Eddie in handcuffs, Hopper carting him off to jail. You said nothing about it.

“We need to get going,” you said instead. “I don’t want to be late.”

Eddie looked at you for a moment. Finally he nodded, snatching his keys off the table. “Alright. Let’s go.”

You walked out to his van with your backpack slung over your shoulder. He opened the door for you like he always did, and you climbed in. The old van took a couple tries to start, but ultimately did.

“Need to get her checked out,” Eddie mumbled. “Could probably do it myself.”

Eddie was great with cars. And he loved them. He was the sole reason this van was still running at all, the amount of work he’d put into it was insane.

It didn’t take long to pull into the parking lot of Hawkins High. It was packed as always. You saw your best friend Robin by Steve Harrington’s car - Steve, who didn’t even go here anymore - and you smiled and waved back at her.

“Go see Robs,” Eddie encouraged as he killed the engine. “I’ve got to catch up with the guys about our campaign tonight.”

Fuck. The campaign.

“Should I get a ride home with Robin and Steve?”

“Maybe?” Eddie said sheepishly. “Or I can run you home before we start.”

“It’s fine,” you said, “I’ll catch a ride with them. You guys have fun. It’s the big one, right?”

“Yep,” Eddie said with pride. “The end of the campaign. These fuckers have no idea what I have in store for them.”

You laughed. “I’m sure it’s a sadistic as ever.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt, opening your door. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, a reminder of all you’d done together since last night and all the things you would do together next time you were alone.

You hopped out and met up with Robin as Eddie sauntered into the building. “Hey, Robs!”

“Hey!” She pulled you into a hug. “Are you ready for Mrs. O’Donnell’s test?”

You groaned. “No. I completely forgot.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you study?”

You blushed. “I was a little busy last night.”

“Busy?” She gave you a look. “Girl.”

“I know! I know.”

“There are more important things in life than fucking your boyfriend!” 

“Well, now that’s debatable.”

Robin groaned, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the school. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” She turned back over her shoulder. “Bye, Steve!”

“Oh, can I get a ride home with you and Steve after school?” you asked. “Eddie has the end of his campaign, it’s going to take forever.”

“Yeah, of course. Steve won’t care. He’s like everybody’s chauffeur.”

—

You were home by yourself that night, snacking on popcorn in your pajamas - classic big t-shirt and short shorts combo. When the phone started to ring, you groaned.

“Hello?” you answered, resting the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Baby,” the answer came from the other end, and you smiled, all irritation gone.

“Hey,” you said. “How was the campaign?”

“It was great!” he said enthusiastically. “The guys actually beat it. I can’t believe it. It was awesome.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” You popped another piece of popcorn into your mouth. “What’s up?”

Eddie’s voice dropped an octave. “Wayne left for work and I was just thinking about you…”

You smirked. “Yeah? Thinking about what?”

“Baby…” he said again, and you could practically picture him on his back in bed with the phone, shirtless, rubbing his hard bulge through his jeans. You could hear music playing over his speakers in the background. “Come over. Please.”

You felt a throbbing between your legs as you listened to his low, sultry voice, dripping with desire, all for you. Your hot boyfriend, desperate for you. Wanting nothing more than to be inside of you.

“I’ll be there in 15,” you said. You heard a low chuckle from the other end before you hung up, hurrying upstairs to slip some jeans on and grab your bag. You locked up downstairs, made it look like you were asleep in your room and locked it from inside, and slipped out the window.

The night air brushed your hair back as you rode your bike to Forest Hills. You lived in a pretty nice neighborhood, your parents never approved of you spending so much time in a trailer park. It didn’t matter that you were much happier at Eddie’s than at home.

You rode the downhill momentum to Eddie’s trailer, parking it next to the front door. Eddie opened the door for you before you even reached it, a wide grin on his face. He was shirtless, low jeans exposing the V leading down below that you wanted to see more of.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping back and holding the door wide for you to walk in.

“Hi,” you said. Eddie closed the door behind you. “Wanna go to your room?”

“Not wasting any time, huh, princess?” Eddie asked, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He kissed slowly up your neck, nipping every now and then. You melted back against him, eyes dropping closed as you moaned.

“Did you get condoms?” you asked.

“I did.” He slid the box from his back pocket, holding it up for you between his pointer and middle finger.

“Large instead of extra large?” you teased, looking at the writing on the package.

Eddie shrugged. “They didn’t have any bigger. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Eddie knew he was big, but he didn’t let it go to his head. Well, most of the time. He led you down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He was kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe, the only thing keeping him grounded to this reality. His hands roamed your body, sending tingles through your skin. Every now and then you’d break from one another, gasping for air for only a moment before your lips found each other again.

You fell back onto his bed as he tossed the condoms onto his bedside table and he kissed up your body from your ankles back to your lips, tongue exploring your mouth with an eagerness. He undid your jeans and pulled them down your legs, savoring every inch of skin he uncovered, even though he’d just fucked you multiple times last night. Enough didn’t exist for him when it came to you.

His hands slid up your top next, kissing your stomach and your tits as he uncovered them. No bra beneath, which had him groaning. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples, tongue swirling around it as he sucked, moaning against your skin.

“Eddie,” you moaned, back arching slightly off the bed. “Fuck.”

He switched to your other nipple, never one to neglect any part of your perfect body. Eddie’s hand slipped beneath your panties, fingers tracing through your soaking folds.

“So wet for me,” he commented, his voice low as he bit down gently on your skin, earning a gasp. “Love how wet you get for me. Desperate, pretty little thing.”

You could have said something about how he was just as desperate for you with how painfully rock hard he was and that you could feel it even through his jeans, but you couldn’t form words with the way he was slipping a finger inside of you, his thumb playing with your clit, rubbing circles. He slipped in a second finger, pumping them in and out while he pressed down harder on your clit.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you moaned, mind deliriously hazy, grinding your pussy down against him.

He kissed down your body, slipping your panties off and then replacing his thumb with his mouth, his tongue flicking your clit before he pushed his two fingers back in, curling them deep, pressing right against that spot he somehow always knew how to find immediately.

“Eddie!” you cried out, grabbing onto one of his pillows and burying your face in it. Eddie chuckled against you, but didn’t relent. He was determined to have you fall completely apart for him, determined to have you cumming all over his tongue and fingers.

You felt like you were floating above the clouds, Eddie’s sinful tongue taking you straight to heaven. He wrapped his free hand around your thigh, burying himself as deep into your cunt as he possibly could. He was starving for you, and he was completely content if this was how he died.

Your body was filled with liquid heat, the coil tightening in your belly. You pulled on his long hair, earning a groan from Eddie, his fingers pumping faster, lips sucking harder on your sensitive clit.

“Gonna cum, Ed,” you moaned, body writhing on the bed, the pleasure almost too much for you. Your words only made Eddie go harder, rutting his hips against the bed for some friction on his throbbing dick.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” 

You fell apart calling his name over and over again. Half the trailer park had to know what the two of you got up to on a near nightly basis, but at least Wayne wasn’t home. Eddie worked you through your orgasm, moaning as he lapped up everything you gave him, cock twitching at the feeling of you tightening, pulsing around his fingers.

Eddie pulled his fingers out of you, placing one last kiss against your pussy as he moved back to look over your naked body, chest heaving, tits and pussy on full display, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. 

“You look beautiful like this,” Eddie said, his own lips and chin wet with the remains of your climax as he smirked down at you. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”

You whimpered at his words as Eddie undid his belt, his eyes locked on yours. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down until his cock sprung free. He shed them from his body, leaving both of you naked.

He kissed all over your body again, sending tingles through your skin. Eddie always liked to take his time with you, liked to savor it. You fucked all the time, but it was never any less sacred to him. You reached between you and grabbed his cock, making him groan. You could feel it throbbing in your hand. He was so needy tonight.

“You ready for me baby?” he asked, reaching for the unopened box of condoms on his table. He ripped open the box, pulling out a foil packet that was smaller than usual.

“Yes,” you whined. “Need you in me.”

Eddie ripped the packet open with his teeth, examining the rubber. He shrugged, starting to roll it onto his cock. He hissed. “Tight fit.”

“You sure it’s gonna be okay…?” you asked, watching Eddie struggle to get the condom over his impressive length.

“Yeah, it’s…I got it,” he grunted, finally getting it all the way on. It technically fit, just not well. “I am not missing out on fucking you tonight.”

“I guess if it works…” You bit the side of your lip, eyeing him.

“Oh, I’m gonna make it work.” He kissed at your neck again, reaching between your bodies to line his tip up at your entrance. He trailed it through your folds, getting himself nice and wet. He pressed against your hole again. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, and then drew in a sharp gasp as Eddie pushed his cock inside.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, you never get any less tight. Shit, babe.”

And he never got any less huge. As many times as you’d had sex at this point, it never got any less intense. It had actually hurt the first time - at least that went away. You hadn’t been a virgin, but damn.

He set a pace rolling his hips into you deep, fucking you slowly and sensually. Making love to you. He couldn’t stop kissing you everywhere, couldn’t control the way you made him feel like he was going to explode with how much he loved you and how good you made him feel.

“My beautiful girl,” he cooed, big hands holding your thighs up against your chest. He had the perfect view of your pussy taking his cock, he could watch every inch of himself sinking into you. He wished he had a camera - he’d love to have this view to look at whenever he wanted.

“Feels so good, Eds,” you moaned, rolling your hips up as much as you could to meet his thrusts at his pace. Your bodies were working together in perfect synchronicity, a beautiful harmony of bodies and passion and love.

“Can I go faster?” he asked, out of breath from his efforts of keeping himself under control. “Can I fuck you?”

“Please,” you cried. “Please.”

Eddie began snapping his hips into you faster, harder. The sounds of your moans and skin meeting filled the small room, drowning out the soft music over the stereo. His headboard banged into the wall with every thrust, chipping the paint.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he groaned, his head thrown back and eyes closed. You were addicted to watching the way his muscles in his neck and chest flexed, clenched. Like he was holding back.

But god, the feeling of his cock pounding into you mercilessly like this? It was unreal.

He pulled out of you abruptly, but before you could complain about it he was flipping you onto your stomach. He spread your legs slightly and mounted you from behind, slipping back in with ease.

You gasped again at the intrusion, but this angle somehow felt even better. You looked over at the mirror on his dresser, watching as he pounded you from behind, looking down at you like he wanted to devour you whole. You could see his whole body, the way his thighs clenched with every thrust into you, the slightest jiggle of his ass, the way his hands were gripping your ass so tightly it would leave marks.

“Oh, god,” you whined so quiet you didn’t even think he could hear you. 

“Doing so good, baby. That’s it,” he grunted. “Just take it, take me, let me fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

You were falling apart. You felt like you were frantically clinging to the edge of a cliff, the precipice of your undoing. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum again.”

He groaned, fucking you faster. “Yeah, that’s it princess. Let yourself go for me. Wanna feel you cum on this cock.”

You grabbed onto the pillow, biting down onto it as you started to see stars, your eyes rolling back as you came for the second time.

“Ah! Ah!” Eddie was gasping and groaning from behind you, the way your pussy was clenching around him was driving him crazy. “Fuck, ‘m close.”

“Please cum for me,” you begged him. “Please. I need it, need to have it.”

Eddie groaned loudly. “Fuck! Yeah, baby, go on and take it. Take the way I’m fucking you. Take this fucking load. Shit!”

He stilled deep inside you, as deep as he could go. He moaned and moaned into your neck, cock pulsing as he came. “Ah! Fuck, fuckfuckfuck-“

You were both gasping for breath, both completely spent. Eddie didn’t want to move from on top of you - he could have fallen asleep right there. You were in such a dreamy post-sex trance, you might have just let him. Let him sleep with his cock in you.

But he had to move. He pulled out of you, rubbing your back as he did. Then, you felt him freeze behind you.

“Oh shit,” he said, clear panic rising in his voice that only set your own anxiety off. “Uh-“ He was nearly

hyperventilating. “Shit shit shit. Shit! Fuck!”

“What??” you asked, turning and sitting up in the bed, equally panicked just from his reaction.

Eddie held up the condom - the ripped, empty condom.

Your blood went ice cold. “Ed-“

“Fuck, what the fuck are we gonna do?” Eddie asked, in pure panic mode. “What if I got you-“

“That hasn’t happened yet,” you said quickly. “Some people have sex for years without getting pregnant, you know? Just because you…finished inside, doesn’t mean I’m necessarily pregnant.”

Eddie wanted to listen to your voice of reason, but it wasn’t helping. He knew the risks of what had happened. He knew how bad his odds were. You were young, healthy. Teenagers. Still in high school. And with his luck…

“Fuck,” he said, sitting on the edge of his bed. He angrily threw the broken condom into the trash can before covering his face with his hands.

“Baby…” you said, your voice small. “Are you mad?”

“Not at you,” he said, turning and taking your hands. “God, never at you. I’m mad I was such an idiot. I never should have used those condoms. I’m a fucking dumbass.”

You looked at him, sympathetic for how hard he was being on himself. “You didn’t know. It’s okay.” You squeezed his hands. “We’re in this together no matter what, right?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute. “What if I just ruined your life? All because I couldn’t hold off for a day.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re…if I got you…” He looked like he couldn’t even say the word. He turned forward, resting his arms on his legs. “It’s going to ruin your life. You’re so smart, baby, you have so much you can do. My life…well, I’m on my third senior year attempt, so I don’t see college in my future. I’m a drug dealer. I still live with my uncle. I’m going to drag you down.”

“Eddie, that is not true,” you said sternly. “Don’t ever talk bad about yourself like that. You are not dragging me down.”

“Everything I said is a fact,” he said sadly. “You’re…you’re better than me, princess. I would hate myself if I tied you down with a baby right now.”

“Eddie.” You turned his head to look at you. “I don’t feel any of those things. I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if we…well, we’ll face it together if it happens, yeah?”

Eddie considered your words. Finally he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Eddie, I love you. More than anything.” You kissed his cheek.

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, moving to kiss you again. His lips lingered against yours, the kiss lasting longer than intended. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” he said.

You shook your head. You heard that enough from your parents, you didn’t need him saying it too. “Not true.”

He smiled softly at you, like he didn’t quite believe you. But he didn’t push the matter, taking your hand and kissing each knuckle. “I love you.”

“And we’re in this together,” you said. “We’re in this life together. No matter what.”

A small smile. “No matter what.”

—

Three weeks later, you missed your period.

Every day you checked, looking to see if it had finally come, just late enough to give you the scare of your life and teach you a real lesson. How could we have been so stupid? you’d think, frustrated with yourselves for making an obvious mistake just to fuck each other. We couldn’t stay off each other for one night?

Eddie seemed to have completely forgotten. He didn’t mention it again, didn’t ask about your period (it’s not like he kept track of your cycle anyway), wasn’t stressed at all. You didn’t mention your worry because you didn’t want to bring him into your anxiety spiral with you. 

When your period was a week late, you came clean to Robin outside after school.

“What???” she exclaimed, way louder than you would have liked. You shushed her, putting your hand over her mouth. A few classmates in the parking lot turned to look at you, but quickly lost interest. You removed your hand once she got the idea. “You think you might be pregnant?” she whispered.

“I…yeah, I think so,” you said. You couldn’t meet her eyes.

“How could you- oh my god.” She looked like she was freaking out more than you even were. “How did this happen?”

“A condom that was too small?” you explained sheepishly. “It broke.”

She just looked at you, blinking. “Of all the risks to take-“

“I know,” you said.

“Does Eddie know?” she asked, lowering her voice even further.

“That the condom broke?”

“That you’re late,” she said, giving you a look like now isn’t the time for jokes.

You looked down. “No. I think he forgot all about it.”

“He forgot-“ Robin looked like she was about to explode with the lecture brewing in her brain. “We have to get a test. Find out for sure before you scare the shit out of him.”

A test. Your stomach hurt at the thought.

“Will you go with me?”

“Of course,” she said, holding your hand. “We can get Steve to take us to the pharmacy on the way home. Or to my place.”

“Steve?” you said, looking at her like she was crazy. “You want Steve Harrington to take us to get a pregnancy test?”

“He won’t tell anyone,” she said quickly. “He’s trustworthy. I promise.”

Eddie came walking out of the school then, laughing with Jeff and Grant. He saw you and flashed you a big smile, immediately heading in your direction. You and Robin both looked at him with awkward, halfhearted smiles in return.

“Hey, baby,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to go?”

“Um, actually,” you said, “Robin asked if I wanted to go study at her house.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, surprised. Usually you wouldn’t change plans at the last minute. He looked at you with his brows furrowed, but didn’t question you further. “Okay, that’s cool. I’ll call you tonight?”

“Okay.” You forced yourself to give the most convincing smile you could. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips before he twirled his keys around his finger once and nodded at Robin. “See you later, ladies.”

You watched him get in his van and leave before you and Robin met Steve at his car.

“About time,” he said to Robin. “I’ve been waiting here forever.”

“We have an emergency,” Robin said immediately once everyone was in the car, you in the back seat.

Steve froze. “What kind of emergency?”

“A pregnancy emergency.”

Steve looked at Robin like she had grown a second head. “Robin, you’re a lesbian.”

“Not me, dingus!” Robin said, slapping him lightly on the arm. “Her!”

“Oh,” he said. He turned around and looked at you, then his eyes went wide. “With Eddie?”

You blushed, unsure what to say, but Robin smacked him on the arm again. “Don’t be rude!”

“Ow,” he mumbled. He started the car and pulled out of the Hawkins High parking lot. “So, you want me to…?”

“Take us to the pharmacy to get a test,” Robin said.

Steve nodded. It was obvious he felt extremely awkward. “Okay. Got it.”

He drove the three of you to the pharmacy, where he waited in the car while you and Robin went inside. You felt embarrassed, like every person in the store could look at you and tell what you were there for.

“I think they’re back here,” Robin mumbled, looking through the aisles. Sure enough, you found the pregnancy tests in the back with the condoms and tampons.

“Um…I guess just this one?” she said, picking up a box that said Clearblue. “Results in 30 minutes.”

30 minutes to find out if your life would be changed forever, you thought. You followed Robin to the checkout counter, where an older lady was working. You and Robin gave your best we are absolutely not dealing with the epidemic of teen pregnancy right now looks - trying to be as nonchalant as possible. The lady looked at you strangely, but said nothing at all.

Back in the car with Steve, you felt like you could breathe again.

“Got the goods?” he asked, starting the car.

“Yes,” Robin announced proudly. “It was relatively painless.”

“For you,” you mumbled.

Steve drove back to Robin’s with nothing but the sound of the radio playing. The atmosphere was heavy, or maybe you were just imagining that with how scared you were, how much you were dreading what was to come.

When Steve pulled up outside of Robin’s house, he looked at the two of you awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you in the morning,” Robin said. She climbed out and you followed suit, walking up to the house with the pharmacy bag clutched in Robin’s fist. Steve called out “Good luck!” through the window.

Her parents weren’t home, which you were grateful for. You didn’t want to have to explain anything, like what you’d bought, or, later, why you were having a mental breakdown.

Robin took the test out of the bag, you looking at the box over her shoulder. She opened it and pulled out a piece of paper. The two of you read the instructions in silence.

“So, it looks like you just, uh, collect the sample, then put it in these little pots, and if it’s blue, you’re pregnant.”

You nodded. “Seems simple enough.”

“I think we got it.” Robin handed the box to you. “Good luck, girl.”

“Thanks.” You gave her a look before you took the stuff out of the box. You went in the bathroom, and took the test.

Once it was in progress, you and Robin sat on her bed. “30 minutes,” you reminded her.

Silence.

“Are you nervous?” Robin asked. “No, sorry, that was a stupid question. Are you scared out of your mind?”

“Yes,” you answered easily. “Fucking terrified.”

Robin took a deep breath, as if she was the one who’s life was on the line. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise. Either way, you’re a smart girl. You’re gonna figure this out.”

You weren’t so sure. If you were so smart, why were you sitting here in this situation right now? You’d think you would have known better than to use that fucking condom. “Eddie is going to lose it.”

“If it’s positive,” Robin said. “This could be nothing. Just a lesson learned.”

That’s what you hoped, but you weren’t sure you’d be so lucky. After an excruciating wait, the timer went off on Robin’s watch. She turned it off, then looked at you. “The moment of truth.”

You took a deep breath. You were pretty sure you were about to throw up all over Robin’s beige carpet. You walked into the bathroom, acting like you were in a haunted house and someone was about to jump from around the corner and scare the shit out of you.

You reached the sink. You looked at yourself in the mirror before you allowed yourself to look down. You looked scared. You just knew Eddie knew something was up, if you looked like this you weren’t hiding shit. You thought this might be the last time you saw yourself this way, as just a teenage girl with a normal life.

You looked down.

Blue.

Your heart stopped in your chest. Hot tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t know what to do - that was the first thought in your head. I don’t know what to do.

“Are you okay?” Robin asked from outside the room. “Do you want me to come in there?”

You stepped out, hands shaking where you were playing with your ring. Robin looked at you with worry written all over her features. “What’s the verdict?”

“You’re going to be an auntie,” you said. As soon as the words were out of your mouth, the walls caved in. You couldn’t breathe. You felt like the walls were pressing in all around you, trapping you, stealing your oxygen.

“Oh, jeez,” Robin said, rushing over to you. “Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe. Just breathe with me.” She started taking long, slow breaths, trying to guide you, but you weren’t hearing any of it. You couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears, your heart racing, knees going weak as you collapsed onto the floor.

“Shit!” Robin dropped to her knees next to you, pushing your hair out of your face, lightly tapping your cheek. “Hey, look. Listen. I need you to breathe with me, okay? I need you to breathe. Jesus, you’re seriously having a panic attack.”

All you could think of was Eddie, of the future. Would Eddie leave you? He said you were in this together if the worst happened, but what if he hadn’t meant that? What if he only meant it when it wasn’t really happening? People never really know what they’re going to do in a situation until it happens to them. He was young. He wanted to be a rockstar.

You were sobbing, the kind of ugly sobs where you were gasping for air, desperate to draw something into your lungs but finding nothing. You didn’t think you’d ever cried so hard in your life. Not even when Jason Carver broke your heart in 7th grade.

Robin muttered your name. “You’re scaring me. Please calm down, babe, it’s…you’re going to be okay.”

You did your best to breathe along with her, and eventually you were drawing in shaking breaths, laying on her chest and soaking her shirt with your tears. She just stroked your hair, patiently letting you calm down. When the numbness kicked in, the tears stopped and you merely sniffled, wiping at your eyes.

“Do you want me to call Eddie to come take you home?” she asked softly.

You nodded. “Can you?” you croaked, your voice hoarse.

“Of course. Do you know his number by heart?”

You nodded. You dialed the number for her and she held the phone to her ear. It rang a couple times, and you wondered if he might not answer and what you’d do then. But finally you heard the timbre of his voice through the phone.

“Hey, Eddie,” Robin said. “Can- yes, she’s here. She’s- she’s fine. Yes she’s fine. Just feeling a little sick. Can you come bring her home? Yeah. Okay. Bye.” Robin hung up the phone and turned to you with a reassuring smile. “He’s on his way.”

Eddie, who drove like a maniac on a normal day, arrived at Robin’s minutes later. You went downstairs, and Robin stopped you right before you got to the front door.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said, pulling you into a hug.

“Should I…am I supposed to tell him now?” you asked, your voice weak.

“Maybe you should,” she said. “Just get it over with. Rip the bandaid off.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You got this,” she said. “I promise.”

You left the house, walking down to the street where Eddie’s van was idling. You could hear his music playing from outside. You opened the passenger door and climbed in.

“Jesus,” Eddie said when he saw you, eyes still swollen and red, looking like hell. He quickly turned the music down. “Shit, baby, what happened?”

You let out another big breath. How were you supposed to do this? Just say it? Rock his world like that with just two words? Two little words to change his life forever. And he didn’t even know it. He had no idea what was coming to him.

“You can start driving,” you told him instead of explaining anything at all.

He looked at you with worry. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes soft. “Baby. What’s going on?”

You fought the tears back. You were not going to cry again. One slipped out and you wiped it away.

“Are you crying?” he asked. “Babe, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’ll talk while you drive,” you said.

He just looked at you. “Okay. Mine or yours?”

“I have to go home. My mom is cooking lasagna.” You dreaded seeing your parents, especially tonight. You weren’t telling them now, that was for sure. They were going to lose their minds.

“Okay.” He pulled away from the curb, beginning the short drive to your house. “Now talk.”

You twisted your ring around your finger - your main nervous habit. Eddie clocked it immediately.

“Is it bad?”

Was it? Yes. And no. It was both, you supposed. You didn’t really know how to answer that question right now.

“I took a test.”

Eddie looked over at you, confused. “A test? What kind of test? Not your SAT? That wasn’t supposed to be until next month.”

Something about the fact that he remembered when your SAT test was taking place warmed your heart. Sure you had talked about it, how nervous you were and how much work you were putting into studying for it, but you never thought he’d remember the actual date. Those worries felt miles away now, trivial.

“No.”

“Then what kind of test?” he asked. “Did you get a bad grade? Because baby, it’s really not the end of the world, you’re so smart-“

“Do you remember the broken condom?”

Silence. Complete, heavy silence, like a blanket over you both.

“Yes,” he finally said.

Deep breath. “Eddie-“

“Are you pregnant?” You could see his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. His arms were shaking slightly.

“Me and Robin got a test. We took it and…it was positive.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered. “You’re sure?”

“I think so.”

Eddie had reached your house. He killed the engine in the driveway behind your parents’ cars. The reminder of your parents sent the nausea rolling through your stomach again. He didn’t look at you. He chewed on his thumb nail as he looked out the window.

Minutes went by without a word spoken. It scared you. What was he thinking? Was he going to leave you?

“Can you say something?” you asked when you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please.”

He looked at you. His eyes were swimming with a million thoughts. You wanted to reach inside his mind and see what was happening.

“So…you’re pregnant,” he said, a mixture between a statement and a question.

“Yes. At least, that’s what the test said.”

“Is there a possibility that you’re not?” he asked, the hope in his voice making your chest ache.

“The test said it was 99% accurate.”

His eyes closed. He blew out a big breath, then rubbed his hands over his face. He looked like he was trying to erase the nightmare. You didn’t really blame him, but there was no running.

He didn’t say anything for a while. He was looking down, like he was completely lost in his thoughts. “So you’re pregnant,” he said again.

Your turn to pause. “Yes. I guess so.”

“I thought…” He cleared his throat. “I thought we were in the clear. You didn’t say anything for weeks-“

“My period was late, but I didn’t want to scare you,” you mumbled.

“You should have told me,” he said. He still wasn’t looking at you, and that was starting to scare you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I was just…I was scared. I didn’t want you to be scared, too.”

It was silent. The seconds ticked on like hours as you waited for him to respond, to say anything. Every second that passed increased your anxiety, increased the fear that you’d end up doing this alone. Eddie was going to leave you.

Eddie was spiraling. How could this happen? Well, he knew the answer to that. But what shitty luck, right? What did this mean? It meant everything. It meant his earth was turning on its axis, time was changing, he would be changing. What does our future look like? Eddie didn’t have any fucking money. He had a little from his dealing, but - fuck, he couldn’t be a drug dealer and a dad. But he’d have to do something. He’d have to start bringing in money immediately. Paying for your appointments, for the baby supplies. Then paying to survive, bills and food and a whole human baby who would need diapers and wipes and all kinds of stuff. What will this do to our relationship? What if you broke up? What if he became a single dad, seeing his kid every other weekend, paying child support, forever having to watch you with another man? And most of all - what if he wasn’t cut out to be a dad? He didn’t exactly have the best example growing up.

“Eddie, when it happened, we said we’d do it together, right?” you reminded him. “Don’t do this. Don’t get upset and push me away. Not now.”

Eddie didn’t say anything. He still wouldn’t look at you. “I think I just…need to process this.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, worried. Your stomach felt like it was in knots, your chest tight again. You didn’t know what you’d do if Eddie left you. Your parents would probably be kicking you out, and you’d be homeless. Homeless and a single mom.

“I just need to think about things, okay?” he said. “I…need to be alone. To think.”

You looked at him. You willed him to turn and look at you, to tell you everything was going to be okay, that he still loved you and was going to be here for you. But he didn’t do or say any of those things. Your heart sunk to your toes.

“Okay, Eddie,” you finally said. You waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he didn’t. No goodbye, no I love you as you got out of the van and walked to your front door. You heard him driving away as you opened the door and walked inside.

The smell of the lasagna was overpowering as you walked in, and with your sensitive pregnancy sense of smell, you almost threw up on your mom’s fancy carpet.

“It’s about time you got home,” your mom said as you walked into the kitchen. She was setting the table, your dad already seated. “We were just about to eat without you.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, dropping your bag by the wall and taking your usual seat. 

“Don’t do that,” your dad snapped.

“Do what?” You were genuinely confused, but you really weren’t in the mood to deal with your parents any more than you had to tonight.

“Mumble,” he said. “It’s rude.”

“Sorry,” you said again, clearer this time.

“You weren’t with that loser boyfriend of yours, were you?” your dad asked with a snort. Your mom smiled lightly to herself - you knew she agreed.

“Eddie is not a loser,” you said, knowing it was a mistake.

“Don’t get an attitude with me,” he said. “The boy is a mess. He’s dumb as rocks, repeating his senior year for the third time. He’s always in trouble with the police. I think the boy does drugs. He’s dragging you down, and you refuse to see that.”

You were seething, thinking about stabbing your fork right in his stupid smug face. “That’s not true.”

“Honey, it is,” your mom said. “You could do so much better. I really think you should-“

“Mom, I’m not breaking up with Eddie,” you said, looking down as you poked at your food. Although, you thought to yourself, he might just do it for me anyway.

“You don’t talk to your mother like that,” your dad said, beginning to raise his voice. You could feel a headache coming on. Actually - you could feel more than that. Nausea rose in your stomach quickly and you jumped up from the table, nearly knocking your chair over in the process, and ran to the downstairs bathroom. You fell to your knees and emptied your stomach, trying to hold your hair back and not make a mess.

When you were finally done, you cleaned up and walked back to the kitchen. “I don’t feel good,” you said. “I’m going to go lay down. Thank you for dinner.”

You turned and left, hearing your dad yell from behind you.

“You better not be pregnant!”

—

After he dropped you off, Eddie drove around for a while. He wasn’t going anywhere specific, didn’t have anywhere he wanted to be. He just needed to think.

He thought about every scenario, every possibility. The good, which made his chest feel warm, made him want to turn the car around and apologize and tell you he can’t wait to do this with you - and the bad, which stopped him. He ended up back at his trailer, Wayne already gone for the night.

He didn’t know what to do. This was life shattering. He didn’t want to ruin your life any more than he wanted to ruin his own. He knew it was a long shot, but he wanted to be successful with his music one day. He was going to be letting the whole band down.

Eddie picked up the phone. He just held it for a while, debating. Wondering if he really wanted to do this. He dialed the number he had memorized.

The recording asked him for the inmate number - he had that memorized, too. He punched it in, waiting. After a number of rings, the phone was picked up.

“Hello?” the gruff voice came from the other end of the line.

“Dad,” Eddie said, his voice broken.

“Well, I’ll be,” Al Munson said, a laugh in his voice. “If it isn’t my boy. What brings you to call your dear old dad tonight?” 

Eddie sighed. “I just…something’s happened. I didn’t know who to go to.”

“Oh yeah?” Al sounded amused, like this was entertaining to him. “And what’s that?”

Eddie let out another deep breath. “I got my girlfriend pregnant.”

It was silent for a minute. Then, Al laughed. “Well damn, boy.”

Eddie felt sick to his stomach. This wasn’t going how he hoped. He didn’t know what he had been hoping for, but it wasn’t this. He regretted picking up the phone. “Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t that just fuckin’ great!” Al said. “I’m gonna be a granddaddy. Well, Ed, while you were stickin’ your dick in anything that moves, I’m over here working hard, day and night, for nothin’. You better be grateful for what you have, boy, and get that girl an abortion. This is going to ruin both of y’all’s lives. Put an end to it now while you can.”

That little rant was the last thing Eddie had expected to hear from his father. He felt like his head was spinning, his chest tightening. “Dad, I- I’m not gonna ask her to get an abortion.”

“Why the hell not?” Al laughed. “Believe me, son, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret throwing your life away. You got that little band, don’t you? Don’t you want to try to make it big?”

It sounded mocking when he said it, but it was true for Eddie. He did have those dreams, as childish and far fetched as they may be. And he knew you wanted to go to a good college, wanted to make something of yourself.

“She’s my priority,” Eddie said. “If she wants this baby, I’ll have this baby with her.”

“Son, you’re a fool,” Al said.

Eddie clenched his fist. He had the sudden urge to punch a wall. “I love her.”

Al laughed, hard. “Like I said. A fool.”

Eddie hung up the phone, slamming it down onto the receiver. He was seething, taking deep breaths, his hands shaking where they were still clenched tightly. The phone call with his dad had only served to make him even more upset, now angry, at his dad, at himself, at the situation.

He didn’t know why he had called his dad in the first place. His dad had never been dad of the year. He hadn’t even seen him in person for 7 years, not since he went to prison. And before then, before Wayne, he was neglectful. Eddie cringed as he remembered Wayne shaving his head the day he moved in, his curls in mats.

His dad had never been a father. The only things he ever taught him were how to hotwire a car, how to be a good liar, how to steal without getting caught, how to deal without getting caught. His dad knew all about dealing - more than weed.

He remembered his mother. The little pieces he still had of her, at least. It made his chest feel warm, thinking of how she had loved him, how caring and kind she had been. He had no idea how she ever ended up with Al Munson. She was an angel.

Eddie knew you would be just as good of a mother as his own mom had been. He knew you’d be the best mother ever. He didn’t worry for a second about how his kid would turn out when it came to you.

But what about him? He already passed on his genes, isn’t that enough damage? Maybe he should take himself out of the equation. Run. Get away from this kid before he has the chance to fuck them up. Because surely that’s what will happen - he’ll damage them beyond repair, make them into as big of a fuckup as he is.

But no. He can’t just abandon you like that. As much as he knows this kid would be better off without him, he knew you wouldn’t. He couldn’t leave you to raise a child alone. Especially not with your shitty parents - god, how would they react to this? Not well, that was for damn sure. You wouldn’t have their support and he knew it.

There was really only one thing for him to do.

—

You cried your eyes out that night. Your pillow was soaked with tears, your eyes still red and puffy from earlier, now worse. You wondered if you could get by with missing school - your parents had heard you getting sick. But what if they made you go to the doctor? Fuck.

You woke up the next morning with your face practically stuck to your pillow. You wiped the dried tears away. You went into your bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror - you looked like hell. Your lower lip trembled, and you just knew it was going to start up again, but you were able to hold it back.

You splashed cold water on your face, helping to soothe your flushed skin. Then you turned the shower on, undressing and stepping into the hot water. It relaxed you immediately, the water beating down on your shoulders and easing the ache in your bones. You didn’t know sadness could make you so physically miserable. Or maybe it was the pregnancy. Maybe both.

When you were done with your shower, you dried yourself off, then started on your hair and makeup. You dressed like you felt, in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Your parents had already left for work. You bounded downstairs, nausea still plaguing you.

You grabbed a granola bar from the pantry and forced yourself to eat it. You weren’t even sure how you were getting to school - was Eddie coming? Should you call Robin and Steve?

You were just considering picking up the phone when you heard a car horn honking from out front. You peered through the kitchen window, seeing Eddie’s van.

Your stomach clenched in knots. Was he here to break up with you? To tell you he wasn’t going to do this?

You grabbed your bag and walked out of the house, locking the front door behind you. You stuffed your hands in your hoodie pockets as you walked to the van. He reached across the seats and opened the door for you when you reached it.

You looked at him cautiously as you climbed in. You were trying to read his face, to prepare yourself for what was to come. He was unreadable, though. That was rare for Eddie - usually you could read him like a book.

He started the car and pulled out of your driveway. It was a few miserable, tense minutes before he finally said something.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I scared you last night. I just needed to think.” He reached over and took your hand in his right one, driving only with his left. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to do this alone.”

Tears brewed in your eyes, but this time they weren’t necessarily sad ones. “I was scared.”

“I know, baby,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” A pause. “I’m scared, too.”

“Where did you go?” you asked.

“I just drove around,” he answered honestly. “Went home and, uh…called my old man.”

Your eyes went wide. “How did that go?”

Eddie scoffed. “As well as you’d imagine.”

You softened. “Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

He waved you off, like the conversation wasn’t still eating him up inside. “It just…made me realize that I never want to be like my dad. I never want to make my kid feel the way he makes me feel.”

“You would never, Eddie,” you said softly. “You’re nothing like your dad.”

He shook his head. “I’m not so sure. I feel like a chip off the ol’ block.”

“You’re nothing like your dad,” you said again, firmer this time. There wasn’t a single thing you saw in common between Eddie and Al Munson. You’d never had the displeasure of meeting him, but you had heard plenty.

Eddie gave you a sad smile before turning back to the road. “Well, it means a lot that you think so.”

“I know so.”

It was quiet for a minute. A less tense quiet than it had been minutes ago. “I just…I’m sorry for running out on you like that,” Eddie said. “We’re partners, right? Always will be. In everything. Especially this.”

His words made you feel better. You had longed for him to come back and do this, to tell you he didn’t mean to act that way and that he loved you and this baby. That wasn’t exactly how it happened, but it was close enough.

“I love you,” Eddie continued. “I would never abandon you, I fucking swear that.”

You squeezed his hand. “I love you too, Eds.”

Another minute of quiet. The gears were turning in Eddie’s head, his mind still spinning even as he drove the familiar path to school on autopilot. “But we need to talk about it.”

“About what?”

“The baby,” he said, the first time either of you were saying the words. “We need to talk about what we’re gonna do. And how we’re gonna do it.”

“Can we go to your place after school?” you asked, playing with the strings on your hoodie.

“Sure, baby.” He squeezed your hand, a silent promise that everything was going to be okay.

When Robin saw you in the parking lot, she sped over to Eddie’s van, throwing her arms around you in a hug as you stepped out. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“No.” You mustered up a smile. “But you don’t have to worry about me. Seriously.”

“Um, you had a full on panic attack on my bedroom floor yesterday after getting life shattering news. Of course I’m worried about you.”

You were grateful to have a friend that was so supportive and caring, but you couldn’t handle the attention right now. You already felt like you were drowning in worries. “I promise I’m okay, Robs.”

She looked at you skeptically, but accepted it. “Okay. If you say so. But tell me if you’re not, okay? I’m here with you. Always.”

You felt bad for pushing her away. Robin cared about you more than most people in your life. The least you could do was let her.

The school day passed uneventfully. Part of you had been worried that the news was written on your forehead and everyone would know. You just knew someone would be able to tell, then the whole school would know and you’d be even more of a pariah than you were for being The Freak’s girlfriend.

You were still relieved to climb into Eddie’s van at the end of the day. You always felt safe with him - being alone with Eddie was like coming home. He drove the two of you back to the trailer. Wayne was still home when you arrived.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted you when the two of you walked inside. He was dressed for work at the plant, drinking a cup of coffee with his lunchbox sitting on the counter next to him.

“Hey, Wayne,” you said with a genuine smile.

“Oh, hey, Eddie. How was your day? It was fine, thanks. How was yours?” Eddie said, pretending to be upset at being ignored.

“How was that math test?” Wayne asked him with a raised eyebrow.

Eddie paled. “We’re going to my room. See ya, Wayne!” He quickly ushered you into his bedroom while you laughed.

“How was the math test?” you spun and asked him once you were alone in his room.

“God, I don’t even want to think about it,” Eddie muttered. “I already know I failed.”

Your chest ached. “I told you I’d study with you.”

“Yeah, well…” Eddie said, “I had a lot on my mind today anyway.”

You knew the feeling. You’d barely been able to pay attention in class today. You knew this discussion was coming, and you didn’t know how it was going to go.

Eddie flopped back on his bed, and you took a seat next to him. He rubbed your back gently.

“You wanted to talk?” you reminded him, the nerves creeping up on you. What if this wasn’t a good talk?

“I just…” Eddie sighed. “How are we going to do this?”

You didn’t know. You hadn’t really had the chance to think that far ahead. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah…exactly.” Eddie ran a hand through his hair, tangled from how much he’d been messing with it today. “Are you sure you don’t want to…?”

“To what?” you asked. “Get an abortion?”

“Yeah.”

You thought. “I just don’t think I can, Eddie.”

Eddie continued rubbing your back. “I understand, baby. It’s okay. It was just an option.”

Not that there was anything wrong with getting an abortion - it just didn’t feel right for you. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not upset.” If Eddie was being honest with himself, he wished you would get the abortion. He felt that was the best choice for you both, the easiest choice. The idea of the two of you keeping this baby scared him shitless. But he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to do with your own body.

“So…” Eddie began awkwardly. “How will we make money? To support us and the baby?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly.

“Okay. Where will we live?”

“I don’t know.”

“Baby.” Eddie stopped rubbing your back, looking at you seriously. “We really have to figure this shit out.”

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up. “I really don’t. I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do. I really wanted to graduate. I wanted to go to college.”

It was quiet. “Baby, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to go to college.”

Your chest ached. You could feel your future slipping from your grasp, the future you’d been building your entire life. The one you’d put so much effort into bringing to fruition in your high school years. It was falling away before your eyes.

“I…I’m gonna drop out,” Eddie said.

“What??” your head snapped in his direction. “Eddie, no.”

“Baby, I…” he scoffed, “I had my chances. If one of us has to drop out to start working so we can save up, it has to be me.”

Tears welled in your eyes. You felt like you’d done so much crying lately. “You’ve been working so hard this year. You’re so close.”

“It has to happen, princess,” he said gently, pushing your hair out of your face. “I have to take care of my family now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the couple of tears escaping, sliding down your cheeks. You felt horrible. You felt like you were ruining Eddie’s life. “Where are you gonna work?”

“I don’t know. Whatever I can get. Melvald’s, maybe. Restaurant. Anything.”

“Is stuff like that going to take care of all three of us, though?” you asked, the worry eating at you.

“It’s better than nothing, baby. I can keep looking. I just need to start saving money now.”

“Can I still finish school?”

“If you feel up to it,” Eddie said. “But, yeah. I don’t want to make you drop out, too. Maybe you could even go to college in a few years, when the baby is older.”

You smiled at that. “You think?”

“Maybe,” he smiled back. He laid on his back, hands crossed behind his head on his pillow. He looked lost in thought. “I think you should stay home with the baby until they’re older.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. People scare me. I want to know they’re safe.”

You felt the same. There was nowhere safer for your baby than with you, right? Not that you knew all that much about taking care of babies right now. It’s not like you had any siblings or even little cousins. “I agree.”

“Good.”

You laid down on the bed next to Eddie, curling up into his side. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. “How are we gonna tell Wayne and your parents?” he asked.

You let out a long breath. “That’s going to go over horribly with my parents.”

“I know.” He thought for a minute. “I…have no idea how Wayne’s going to react. He’s probably going to be disappointed in me. Which feels pretty bad.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, because he was probably right. And you couldn’t even blame Wayne. You guys had fucked up. And now your lives were forever changed.

“The guys are going to freak,” he said with a sigh.

You hadn’t even thought of the band, or the Hellfire club. How would they react? They were counting on Eddie to help make the band’s dream a reality. Eddie was the guitarist, the lead singer. How was he supposed to do that with a baby?

“I’m sorry your life is ruined,” you muttered, the guilt weighing on your chest.

“It’s not, baby,” he said. “And neither is yours.”

—

You had known about the baby for a couple of days. You were dressing for school, wearing a pair of jeans and a band shirt with a sweater. Eddie was driving you to school like he did every day.

You practically ran down the steps to meet him outside when you heard him pull up, but your mom stopped you right before you got out the front door.

“You need to stop hanging out with that boy,” she said, looking you in the eyes in a way that made you uncomfortable.

“Mom, no,” you said. “I’m not breaking up with Eddie.”

“You need to think about your future,” she said. “That boy is going to ruin your future. Whether you end up pregnant, or on drugs, or living on the streets. You’re going to be 22 years old with three kids and that boy in prison just like his father.”

You weren’t sure if you were about to cry or scream in her face. “You know nothing about Eddie.”

“I know enough.”

You pushed past her, walking to Eddie’s van with your fists clenched. You climbed in, slamming the door.

“Woah, baby mama, what’s wrong?” he asked, beginning to drive away.

“Just my mom,” you muttered. 

“Being herself, I assume,” Eddie said with clear distaste.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t listen to her,” he said. “You know she’s full of shit.”

But her words lingered in your head anyway, plaguing you the way only she could. What if Eddie did get in trouble for dealing and go to jail? It wasn’t impossible. And you were pregnant. God, you were going to have to tell her so, too.

You were distracted all through the school day, but tried your best to focus in class. You were standing up from your desk in english when Tina stopped you, her nose scrunched up like something was disgusting.

“Think you got your period,” she said, snarky as always.

You froze. “W-what?” you asked, looking at her.

“Your period?” she said. “Seems kinda heavy. Might want to go to the nurse’s office.”

She walked off, but you paid no mind to her. You looked down at your seat - and saw it covered in blood. You gasped, covering your mouth in horror - the tears started and you felt your heart shatter in your chest. No. No no no no no no.

You tied your hoodie around your waist and ran out of the room straight to Eddie’s locker, where you nearly crashed into him.

“Woah, babe, what’s going on?” he asked, steadying you by the shoulders. His eyes were swimming with concern.

“We have to go to the ER,” you cried. “Now.”

“Jesus- what’s going on?” Eddie asked.

You leaned in close. “Eddie, I- I think I’m having a miscarriage.”

His eyes went wide. “No. You’re not.”

“We have to go,” you said, taking his hand and walking off. You were acutely aware of the blood all over the back of your jeans, how you were probably still bleeding. What if you were losing the baby right now?

You felt on the verge of hyperventilating. Eddie ran to the van, opening the door for you and laying a towel down in the seat. “Shit, baby,” he cursed as he helped you climb in and saw the blood. His voice cracked, like he was about to start crying, too.

He drove you to the ER as fast as he could without getting pulled over. He had weed in his pocket, and in the back - he didn’t need that. He pulled up to the ER in record time, finding a spot and nearly carrying you into the hospital.

“I think my girlfriend might be having a miscarriage,” he blurted out to the receptionist, who looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What’s your name?” she asked you.

You gave her your name and info.

“How far along are you?”

“I…don’t know,” you admitted. “We just found out.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re pregnant and this isn’t just your period?”

Eddie wished that were true. What a relief that would be, he thought. But if there really was a baby in there - he didn’t want to take any chances. He wasn’t going to lose it.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you said, getting irritated with this lady.

They brought you back to get your vitals, finding your blood pressure high. “Probably from the stress,” the nurse said, but they brought you straight back anyway, having you change into a gown.

A tech came in shortly after. “I need to take you for an ultrasound,” she said, much more kindly than the woman at the front desk.

“Can he come with me?” you asked, holding onto Eddie’s hand tightly.

“I’m afraid not,” she said, looking like she genuinely felt bad. “But we’ll only be gone for a few minutes.”

You followed her down the hall and to a room with an ultrasound machine. “Lay on the table with your legs up there, and scoot all the way down.”

You froze. “I thought ultrasounds were on your stomach?”

“Not this early,” she said apologetically. “It’s just a little uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt.”

You laid on the table, feeling incredibly exposed. She began the ultrasound, the screen turned away from you. She kept pressing buttons and writing things down.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your stomach aching from anxiety. “Can I see?”

“I can’t show you or tell you anything,” she said, “we have to wait for the doctor. I’m sorry.”

You laid there, staring at the ceiling. You pretended you were anywhere else, doing anything else. You imagined you were at Eddie’s, laying on his bed while he played you a new song on his guitar. “I wrote this one for you, baby,” he’d always say.

She finished up and you were glad to put your legs back together. You followed her back to the room, where Eddie was waiting, bouncing his leg nervously. When you walked in he stood up, rushing over to you. He grabbed your arms. “Is the baby okay?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said. “She couldn’t tell me anything. We have to wait for the doctor.”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid,” Eddie said. “Why couldn’t she just say ‘yes, everything’s okay? You can stop worrying about the fate of your child’?”

Your child. Eddie caring about the fate of your baby so much made you feel a little better. You just hoped it wasn’t about to be ripped away from you like this.

You got back in the bed and the two of you waited nervously. It was maybe 30 miserable minutes later that the doctor walked in, introducing himself.

“How’s the baby?” Eddie asked as soon as the doctor stopped talking.

He pulled out some images, holding them out to show you. Eddie leaned over your shoulder to look at them. You couldn’t exactly make any sense of them - it was just a black and white image of some blobs.

“This right here,” the doctor said, pointing to one of the blobs. “Is called a subchorionic hematoma. It’s a collection of blood in your uterus. Most resolve themselves and are nothing to worry about, although the bleeding can be scary.”

Can be? You were just now breathing like normal again.

“So everything’s okay?” Eddie asked, wanting to get to the point as soon as possible.

“Yes, everything’s okay,” the doctor said, and you and Eddie collectively let out a breath. “The babies are perfectly fine.”

You felt relieved. Everything was okay. You turned to Eddie, but found him white as a ghost, staring wide eyed at the doctor.

“Did you say babies?”

You froze. Did he? You slowly turned to the doctor.

“Yes. You’re about 7 weeks along with twins.”

The ground fell out from under your feet. Your head spun, your blood felt like ice -

Eddie hit the ground.

—

Eddie woke a minute later, having been propped up in a chair by your bed. The nurses checked him over, but they knew he was fine. The doctor let you know you could leave, and you and Eddie were left alone.

“Fuckin’ - twins,” he breathed. “Two babies. Jesus.”

You couldn’t believe it either. If you had been scared before, now you were twice as scared. How were you going to afford two babies? How were you going to take care of two babies alone?

Eddie walked back out to the van with his hand protectively on your lower back, staying close. He helped you get in and closed the door for you.

“I don’t want to go home,” you admitted. “I just want to go to your place.”

Eddie smiled softly at you. “My house is your home, sweetheart. But yeah, of course.”

You leaned your head against the seat and watched out the window the whole drive to Eddie’s. You had been in the ER for so long, the sun was just starting to set. You felt relief that the baby - the babies - were okay. You were relieved you were going home with Eddie. Things were going to be okay.

Eddie pulled up in front of the trailer. Wayne was home - he was off tonight. You knew he wouldn’t question you. “Wait,” Eddie said, and he jumped out of the van and ran around to your side. He opened the door and basically lifted you down.

“I’m not made of porcelain,” you laughed as he sat you on the ground gently.

“To me, you are,” he said.

He led you to the front door, letting you go in first. Wayne was in his chair with a beer, watching TV. He looked up at the two of you when you came in.

“Hey, Wayne,” you greeted him.

“Hey, darlin’. Ed.” Wayne took a sip of his beer, looking at you both with an unreadable expression. Wayne was very closed off, it was impossible to tell what that man was thinking. “Can you two sit down for a minute? I’d like to talk to ya.”

That was strange. You looked at Eddie, who only shrugged back at you. The bleeding had stopped and you’d had the chance to clean up, so you sat down on the couch, Eddie next to you in between you and Wayne.

Wayne turned the TV off. Silence descended over the room, heavy and suffocating.

“Ed,” Wayne said, “your daddy gave me a call.”

Eddie froze. Oh fuck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wayne took a sip from his beer. “He told me somethin’ you, uh…told him?”

You looked at Eddie, confused as to where this was going. Eddie was sweating, all of a sudden it was way too hot for his jacket. He took it off, tossing it onto the floor.

“You wanna tell me somethin’, Ed?”

Eddie signed. He rubbed his hands over his face, like he was trying to wake up from a bad dream. But he didn’t say anything, and the way he was refusing to answer Wayne was scaring you.

Getting nowhere with Eddie, Wayne turned to you. “Honey, are you pregnant?”

Oh. Eddie had told his dad about the baby - babies, you corrected yourself again. Not that he had known that then. You looked at Eddie, who still looked panicked, but you couldn’t lie to Wayne. “Yes.”

Wayne looked between the two of you sadly. “Oh, kids,” he said, like he could see your fate laid out before you, and it wasn’t a good one.

“It’s twins,” Eddie contributed, looking at his uncle sheepishly. “Just found that out tonight.”

“Twins?” Wayne said, genuinely surprised. “Goddamn, son.” You almost laughed.

“Are you mad?” Eddie asked, scared not of what Wayne would do, but what he would think of him.

“Mad?” Wayne asked. “No. I’m just…worried. What are you gonna do?”

You and Eddie exchanged a look. “I’m going to drop out and get a job to save up some money,” Eddie said.

Wayne’s face fell. “Oh, Ed.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “But I have to. Right? I have to.”

Wayne didn’t say anything, because Eddie was right. There was no way around it that he could think of. He couldn’t afford to support Eddie, you, and a baby - two babies, which everyone kept forgetting and re-remembering. As much as he wanted to help, he didn’t make enough at the plant.

“What you have to do is stop that mess with the drugs,” Wayne said, pointing at Eddie. “Don’t think I don’t know.”

Eddie flushed. “Yeah, I know.”

“You cannot be gettin’ into trouble doin’ that stuff. Not now. I turned a blind eye to it for too long.”

Eddie nodded.

“Okay.” Wayne slapped his knees. “Well. You think you two have got this?”

You and Eddie looked at each other. Did you have it? You’d have to. “I think we’ll be okay,” Eddie said.

“Do your parents know?” Wayne asked you.

“No,” you answered. “We’ve only known for about a week. I’m not exactly excited to tell them.”

“I don’t blame you, sweetheart,” Wayne said. He knew how your parents were. They had met before, they looked down on him and Eddie for their social status, for their income, for living in a trailer park, amongst other things. “But you’ll have to tell them eventually.”

“I know.”

“We’ve got your back,” Eddie said. “If they wanna be assholes about it…”

“Which they will.”

“Yeah.” Eddie pulled you close. “It’s going to be okay.”

Conversation over, you followed Eddie back to his bedroom. He quickly cleaned up his rolling tray, papers, and baggie of weed that were laying on his bed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just…smoked a little last night. I’m done now, though.”

You didn’t say anything, watching as he put his stuff away. He sat on the bed and held his arms out for you. You went to him, letting him wrap his arms around you. He laid his head on your stomach.

“I’m so happy you’re okay. All three of you,” he said. “I was so scared.”

“Me too,” you agreed. Eddie laid his forehead on your belly, his thumbs rubbing circles over it. He lifted your shirt up and pressed a kiss to the smooth skin, his lips lingering there. Your heart thudded in your chest at the display of love and affection.

“I love you both,” he said to your belly. “I’m your daddy, and I’m going to take such good care of you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you or your mama.”

Your stomach flipped, and you were pretty sure you’d never felt so in love with Eddie than you did in that moment. 

He pulled you down to lay next to him on the bed, cuddled together, legs tangled. His hand rested on your belly, rubbing soft, slow circles until you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

—

The hospital set you up with your first OBGYN appointment. It was a week after the ER visit, and you’d been a nervous wreck. You hadn’t been bleeding any more, but what if you still lost the babies? You were looking forward to going just to hear that everything was okay.

You and Eddie left school early, heading to the doctor just after 5th period. Eddie stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as you checked in at reception. You found two seats together and sat as you filled out the clipboard of questions.

It asked all kinds of things. The standard doctor’s office questions about you, some awkward questions about your sexual history, and even questions about Eddie - ‘the father’.

“‘How many sexual partners have you had?’” you asked him, reading off the question.

Eddie blushed. “What?”

“It’s asking!”

“About me?”

“Yeah!”

He blushed deeper. “You know the answer to that question.”

You did. You just liked teasing him. “Remind me?”

Eddie gave you a look. “You know you were my first.”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled. Eddie nudged your shoulder playfully.

“Asshole.”

You turned in the clipboard when you were done, going back to your seat and waiting to be called. It wasn’t long before a nurse came for you, and you stood.

“Do you, uh, want me to go?” Eddie asked. He was jittery, bouncing his leg like he often did when he was nervous.

“Can you?” You didn’t know why you were nervous to ask him, you knew he would in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, of course.” He stood and followed you, trailing behind as the nurse led you to the back. She recorded your height and weight, blood pressure and temperature. You were taken to a small room with an exam table in the middle and two visitor chairs by the wall. Photos of babies decorated the walls. Eddie looked all around, seeming uncomfortable.

The nurse asked you even more questions. Some typical, some that made you blush. She asked Eddie a bunch of questions about his and his family’s health history. She left, and you and Eddie were alone.

“I didn’t realize they’d need so much information from me,” he said. “I thought this was all you.”

“You are the dad, right?” you teased, laying back on the exam table.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I better be.”

“They’re half you. Of course you matter.”

Eddie hadn’t thought of it that way. The babies were half him. And half you. There was something beautiful about how you’d come together to make something so precious as these two little babies. He placed a hand on your stomach - you had developed the smallest little baby bump - and rubbed it, smiling up at your face. He gave you a little wink.

The tech came in with the ultrasound machine. “How are you guys today?” she asked, setting up the machine. She put the gel on your stomach.

“Nervous,” you admitted. Eddie squeezed your hand.

“Don’t be,” she said. “This is supposed to be the fun part.”

She flipped on the machine and placed the wand on your belly. The image appeared on your screen, and you saw your two little blobs wiggling around in there.

“Congratulations on the twins!” she said. “There’s baby A,” she measured the smaller blob, “and there’s baby B.” The bigger blob was next to the smaller one, like they were cuddled together. Almost like it was protecting the other one.

Tears welled in your eyes at the sight of them - your first real glimpse of your babies. You glanced at Eddie, who was covering his mouth with his hand, staring at the screen with so much love in his eyes.

“And we can’t know if they’re boys or girls yet?” Eddie asked.

“Not yet,” she said. “You’ll find out at the 20 week scan.”

“How many weeks is she now?” he asked.

The tech took some more measurements. “She’s measuring about 8 weeks right now.”

Eddie blew out a rush of air. 8 weeks seemed so early and so long at the same time. “And how many weeks are there in a pregnancy?” he asked, knowing he sounded like an idiot.

“There are 40,” she explained. “But twins often come early, around 35 weeks.”

Eddie paled at that. How was the pregnancy almost a quarter over already?? Nothing was ready. Nothing at all. He still didn’t even have a job, and these babies were coming so soon?

You both watched the screen for the remainder of the ultrasound. She printed you a strip of photos to keep, which you held close to your chest - you would cherish these. Eddie took one to keep in his wallet. 

When she left, you cleaned the gel off your stomach. Eddie helped you wipe it up with paper towels.

“That was cool, huh?” you asked, smiling at Eddie as you pulled your shirt back down.

“Very,” he agreed, smiling back at you. ���I can’t believe there’s really two in there.” He poked your belly.

“Me either.” You laid back. “Does that mean I’m gonna get like…extra huge?”

“Probably,” Eddie teased. “Beautiful no matter what, though.”

The doctor came in next, introducing herself and congratulating you both. She told you it seemed that the subchorionic hematoma had taken care of itself, so she felt it was nothing to worry about. She went over the do’s and don’ts of pregnancy, told you to start taking a prenatal vitamin, and instructed you to come back in a month.

With your ultrasound photos and appointment card in your hand, you and Eddie left the office. He helped you up into the passenger seat before getting in on his own side. “What do you want to do now, baby?” he asked you.

“I think we should go to the pharmacy for those vitamins,” you said. Your mind was entirely on the babies, wanting them to be as healthy as possible, especially after the miscarriage scare.

“You got it.” He started the van and drove in that direction, his music playing from the speakers.

You went in together when you reached the pharmacy. Eddie walked with his hand on your lower back, as if you might faint without him. You reached the correct section and found the bottles that said prenatal vitamins - you picked up one of the bottles, checking the price.

“Jesus. Why are these so expensive?”

Eddie looked over your shoulder, seeing the $30 price tag. “Shit. I don’t know, baby. But I don’t have enough for that on me.”

“Me either.” You sat the bottle back on the counter. “I guess it’ll be fine until we can afford it.”

Eddie was quiet. He felt like he was failing you and his babies. “I could sell-“

“No, Eddie,” you snapped. You did not want him selling drugs again. “We’ll figure it out. You started applying for jobs, right?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. Of course I have.”

“Then you should have something soon,” you said, “and we’ll get it then.”

Eddie felt like shit walking out of the pharmacy with you empty handed. He felt like the biggest failure, just as bad of a dad as his own. He had spent some of the last of what he had on some weed - he knew it was wrong and that you had both agreed, but he was so stressed, he needed something. He felt horrible about it now, though.

He drove you back to your house. When he shut off the engine in your driveway behind your parents’ fancy cars, he looked over at you. “Are you sure you want to go in there? You know you can spend the night with me any time.”

“I know,” you said softly, almost like you regretted it immediately. “I’ll be okay. They’ll notice something’s up if I don’t come home at all. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay, baby.” Eddie leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“I know,” you mustered up a smile as he pulled away from your lips. You didn’t really want to leave Eddie, but you at least had to stay until they went to bed. They weren’t completely stupid.

Eddie watched you climb out of the van and walk to your front door. He watched until you were safely inside - only then did he allow himself to start his engine and pull away.

You could tell something was off the second you walked into the house. Your dad sat in his chair looking smug, while your mom paced nervously. Your dad looked pleased to see you when you walked in.

“What’s going on?” you asked cautiously. You weren’t sure if you were prepared for the answer.

“What’s going on,” your dad said, “is that little boyfriend of yours is finally going to get what’s coming to him.”

Your blood froze. “What do you mean?”

“I had a talk with Officer Callahan,” he said. “And he agrees that Eddie needs to be taught a lesson. They have proof he’s been dealing.”

You felt sick to your stomach, like you were two seconds away from getting sick on the floor. “Dad, no. Eddie quit, he doesn’t do anything like that anymore. He’s a good guy, please.”

Your dad looked almost pleased with himself, like he was happy to see you so distraught. “He should have made better choices. Maybe this will set him on the right path.”

“Dad, come on. Don’t do this.”

“You need to grow up. You both need to grow up. You need to find someone who actually deserves you. Someone better.”

You felt like screaming. You felt like throwing something at your father’s face.

“It’s for the best,” your mom finally spoke up. “It will scare him straight, at least.”

Was this your fault? Were you ruining Eddie’s life just by being in it? Your parents were being ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean the police department would see it that way. You couldn’t stand the idea of Eddie getting in serious trouble, especially not with babies on the way.

You ran upstairs, picking up the phone on your bedside table. You dialed Eddie’s number, hoping he’d had the chance to get back home by now.

“Hello?” he answered, sounding confused.

“Baby,” you said. “My dad did something really fucking stupid.”

Quiet. Then, “What?”

“He said the police are after you for dealing,” you cried. “He said you’re going to get in trouble.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “Your dad’s a real piece of work, huh?”

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “Really scared.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said. He was always so calming to you, even over the phone where you couldn’t see his face or soak in the warmth of his arms. “But it’s going to be okay. I haven’t even been dealing lately. They’ve got nothing on me.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffled.

“I’m sure. Your dad’s just trying to scare us. He’s just a dick.”

You laughed, wiping at the tears on your face. “Yeah. He is.”

“Believe me, baby. We’re going to be okay.” You knew if Eddie were here he’d be brushing your hair behind your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You wished he was.

“Okay.” You trusted Eddie wholeheartedly, and if he said there was nothing to worry about, you were going to try to listen to him.

“I need you to get some rest, okay baby?” he said. “For yourself and for those little babies.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, babe.”

—

Eddie’s last day of school was nearing. He had put in his request to drop out, and had been putting in job applications all over. He was stressed, that was clear, and you felt bad, like it was all your fault.

The Hellfire Club didn’t know it was their last typical Hellfire meeting. Eddie walked in and the guys all looked up from where they’d been sitting, going over their characters.

“Well, boys, I have some news,” Eddie said, kicking one foot up onto his throne and leaning on his knee. This got everyone’s attention, and they leaned in closer, hanging on to Eddie’s every word.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asked. They could tell Eddie looked serious, and that scared them.

He held his hands out. “Well, it seems, that I…am going to be a father?”

The guys all just stared at him. “You’re what?” Jeff asked. “No fucking way.”

“No no no no no,” Gareth said, shaking his head like he was trying to clear the thoughts from it. “You’re not- huh???”

Eddie gave a halfhearted shrug. “I knocked up my girlfriend.”

“You’re not being serious,” Dustin said.

“There’s no way he’s being serious,” Mike added. “He’s full of shit.”

Eddie reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He pulled the ultrasound photo out between his pointer and middle finger, holding it up. Gareth snatched it from his grasp, the guys looking over his shoulder.

Sure enough, it had your name written at the top. But that didn’t mean it was real. “Bullshit,” Gareth said. “This isn’t a baby. And there’s two little blobs. Nice try.”

“And that’s where we come to the second part of my news,” Eddie said. “It’s twins.”

The room froze. Everyone was looking up at their DM with horror and shock. “You’re being serious?” Grant asked.

“Dead serious,” Eddie said. “Those are my little beans in there.”

Everyone looked back down at the ultrasound, trying to make sense of it, of everything. They couldn’t wrap their minds around Eddie - their Eddie - being a father. It seemed absurd.

“So…” Dustin began, knowing there was more to the story.

“So…” Eddie contributed. “I’m dropping out. Have to get a job to take care of the babies.”

That sent a silence over the group. “You’re what?” Jeff asked.

“I have to,” Eddie said. “It’s the only way I can take care of my family, man.”

“Eddie, you’ve worked so hard to graduate. You’re just going to drop out your third senior year so close to graduation?” Jeff was hurting for his friend, being one of the only Hellfire Club members to be around for so long and see the work Eddie had put in. No one wanted to see Eddie fail at his goals.

“I have to,” Eddie repeated, dejected.

“And, wait-“ Gareth said. “What about the band, man? What about our dreams with Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie’s heart sunk. “I…I mean I can try to still be in the band, but-“

“But your family’s going to come first now.” Gareth snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’d do this to us.”

“I didn’t get her pregnant on purpose, man,” Eddie said, getting frustrated with his best friend. “Shit happens.”

“‘Shit happens’? Really Eddie?” Gareth was getting more upset by the second, standing to face Eddie. “That’s what you have to say for yourself?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Eddie retorted. “My family is none of your business.”

“Your family, oh right,” Gareth scoffed. “I thought we were your family! I knew something was going to happen the second you started dating that girl-“

“Don’t talk about her,” Eddie said, his voice low, a warning.

Gareth was taken aback. “Jesus, Eddie. You really have changed.”

Eddie shook his head. “What, just because I love my girlfriend? Is it not metal enough for you to have a family with my girlfriend? Grow up, man.”

The guys were all speechless. This was not the Eddie they thought they knew. The Eddie who treated D&D and Corroded Coffin as the most important things in the world - his first babies. Now he was throwing them away in favor of you and the real ones.

“I understand why you feel the need to do this,” Dustin said, careful so as not to set Eddie off again, “but can’t we still have Hellfire Club meetings outside of school?”

Eddie thought for a minute. “You guys want to take it outside just so you can keep playing with me?”

“Hell yeah,” Mike said. “You’re the best damn DM we could dream of.”

Eddie cracked a smile at that. “Where could we have it?”

“My house?” Mike offered. “We have a whole basement we can use.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay. This could work. I might be a little busy, though. Being a dad and all.”

The guys laughed and congratulated Eddie - except for Gareth, who was still pissed off. Eddie didn’t miss the lack of support from his best friend. “Come on, man. Don’t be like this.”

“Be like what, Eddie?” Gareth questioned, standing. “Upset that you’re ruining the chances of the band ever making it? Upset that you’re just giving up on school and dropping out on your third attempt that you were definitely going to succeed this time? How can you just throw your life away?”

“Gareth, I don’t have a choice,” Eddie said, trying to get it through the drummer’s head. “These babies are coming. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Gareth didn’t calm. He gritted his teeth, looking Eddie in the eyes. “You’ve changed, man.”

“Yeah, you have to when you become a dad!” Eddie said, waving his hands around for emphasis. “Come on, Gare. You’re my best friend. You don’t want to be Uncle Gare to two extremely cute kids?”

Gareth dared to crack the tiniest smile. “Stop.”

“Just think about how cute they’re gonna be,” Eddie continued. “Little metalhead babies.”

Gareth was softening. He didn’t like the changes this promised, he didn’t want Eddie to grow up so fast, but he had to admit to himself the image of Eddie as a dad made him feel a little proud of his friend. “You gonna have them listening to Metallica in the womb?”

Eddie laughed. “Damn right.”

“Do you really have to drop out, though?” Jeff asked, still concerned. “What’s that going to do to you, dude? You’ve worked so hard.”

“I’m fine.” Eddie looked around. It was clear he was trying not to be affected, to look like he didn’t care. He clearly cared a lot. “It’s just what needs to be done. So I’m doing what I have to do.”

Everyone was quiet. No one had a better idea, but they didn’t want to see Eddie throw away his hard work, either. 

“Okay, man,” Grant said. “Do what you have to do.”

“And congratulations,” Dustin added. “On being a dad and all.”

Eddie smiled a little. “Thanks, dude.”

“Yeah, man, congratulations,” Mike said.

Grant and Jeff congratulated him too, but Gareth still seemed upset. In agreement that the Hellfire Club would continue outside of school, everyone felt a little better, but their final campaign in the drama room was bittersweet.

—

Eddie got a job as a dishwasher at Benny’s. He hated it.

He had dropped out and was now working full time, doing something he absolutely hated - and he realized just how much dropping out affected him. He was depressed. He lost his sense of worth, feeling like the biggest failure imaginable. Took my senior year three times and still never graduated, he’d think to himself as he washed dishes until his hands were red and raw. Now look at me.

You didn’t get to see Eddie as often anymore. News was out at school - everyone knew Eddie dropped out because you were pregnant. At least you didn’t have to hide the belly anymore - you could dress normally at school. It was at home that you had to be careful.

You hadn’t heard anything else about Eddie getting in trouble, so you hoped your dad had just been bluffing. You never put it past him, though.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Eddie greeted you at the door as you reached it. He had just gotten off work and it was obvious, his eyes red and tired. He pulled you into his slender chest, his long arms wrapped around your body. You buried your face in his shirt.

“Missed you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I missed you too,” he said, and he meant it. He missed you all day while he was at work. He thought of you and the babies constantly - do it for them.

You didn’t get to see Eddie as often anymore. He usually worked late, and by the time he was getting home you were going to bed. This was the first night you’d gotten to spend with him all week.

“They’ve grown,” he said as you stepped back, placing his hand on your belly.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Word’s out at school. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it from my parents at this rate.”

Eddie frowned. He knew it would be bad when they found out. “You look cute,” he said, changing the subject.

“Thanks,” you blushed. “I don’t feel cute.”

“Being pregnant with my kids is a good look on you,” he smirked. “Maybe I’ll have to give you another one-“

“One pregnancy at a time, babe,” you laughed.

“Come on,” Eddie said, “I’m exhausted. I just want to hold you in bed.”

You weren’t arguing. He led you by the hand back to his bedroom - quickly cleaning up something on his bed and shoving it into the closet. You gave him a strange look, but didn’t push it.

He pulled his shirt over his head and laid down on the bed. You joined him, cuddled up against his chest. His fingers played absentmindedly with your hair while you laid together. Eddie turned, catching you looking at him. He smiled and pressed his lips to yours.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he muttered against your lips.

“Missed you more,” you teased back, but his kisses were quickly taking your breath away. You were breathing heavily, his tongue pressing into your mouth and exploring it eagerly.

His hand slipped under your shirt, brushing over the bump before reaching your tits. He palmed them over your bra, moaning into the kiss. You moaned lightly, hips involuntarily grinding against his, feeling him already hard beneath his jeans.

He slipped your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra, kissing all over the exposed skin, his tongue flicking at your nipples. They were more sensitive now and had you arching your back into him, his hands sliding along your back as he sucked on your tits.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “It’s been so long. I need you.”

“I need you too,” you agreed, your panties already soaked at the mere thought of having Eddie inside you again.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked, kissing back up to your neck. “I need you bad. But I don’t want to hurt them.”

“You’re not going to hurt them,” you promised him. “They’re safe in there.”

Eddie grinned. “Does this mean I get to fuck you raw now?”

You blushed, the idea sending heat straight to your throbbing core. “I guess so.”

Eddie groaned, diving back in to bite at your neck as his hand expertly undid your jeans. He pushed them down as much as he could before his hand was beneath your panties, tracing through your soaking folds.

“So ready for me,” he mumbled. “You want this just as bad, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, writhing in your need to be touched.

“Looking a little desperate, baby,” he teased. “Do you need me?”

“Need you so bad,” you moaned. You had no shame, you were desperate for Eddie to fuck you and you wanted him to know.

Eddie groaned from low in his throat. He slipped a finger inside you, pumping it slowly. You gasped at the sudden feeling, then you were grinding your hips down, wanting more.

“Needy little pussy,” he whispered in your ear. “Look at how desperate she is to take me.”

You whined. Your mind was going hazy, you weren’t thinking straight. With Eddie’s finger pumping into you, his calloused thumb rubbing at your clit, and his mouth kissing and nipping at your neck, you were in another world.

“Need it now,” Eddie said, then he was sitting up, pushing his own jeans and boxers down and pulling your clothes the rest of the way off. His hard cock sprung free against his stomach, ruddy tip leaking.

Eddie lined his cock up with your entrance, pushing just the tip inside. He moaned, loud - his first time feeling you raw and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to last more than two seconds. He couldn’t look at you like this - it was going to make him bust immediately. He buried his face into your neck instead, rolling his hips to push his cock in the rest of the way.

You whimpered, holding onto him tightly. Everything was so much more sensitive now, you felt as if you could feel every ridge and vein of Eddie’s cock, heightening the pleasure. His hips snapped into yours quickly, as if he’d lost control and needed more and more of you.

His old bed squeaked as he fucked you, his groans muffled into your neck. You gasped, tangling your fingers in his long curls, pulling slightly. That made him shudder, tightening his grip on your thigh, a choked moan coming from his lips.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he moaned, kissing from your neck to your shoulder and all over your chest. “You’re so beautiful. Feel so good. Your pussy is so perfect.”

You whined. “Feels good, Ed.”

“Yeah?” he panted, speeding up his pace just a little. “You like that?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, eyes falling closed.

“Tell me,” he breathed. “Tell me what you like.”

“I love when you fuck me like this,” you whined. “I love your cock.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You opened your eyes to see him staring intently down at you, eyes locked on your face, his cheeks tinged pink with the exertion and his impending orgasm. “It’s so big. Fucks me so good.”

Eddie groaned, his head dropping forward. His curls tickled your breasts, moving with his thrusts. “I’m so close,” he choked out. “Need you to cum for me.”

You were close, too. Especially when he reached down and rubbed against your clit, making you gasp. Everything was so sensitive, his touch sending electricity through your veins.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “I can feel you- holy shit- you’re so tight around me-“

Eddie tried his best to hold back, but the feeling of your pussy clenching around him as you came sent him over the edge. He let out a strangled gasp that turned into a loud moan as his orgasm hit him abruptly, cumming deep into you for the first time - on purpose, at least. He rutted into you with shallow thrusts as he shot his load into you, body trembling from the intensity.

After he pulled out, he flopped onto the bed next to you, his chest heaving with his breaths. You eyed the posters covering his walls, his guitar - his sweetheart - hanging across from you. It was all so Eddie. God, you loved him.

“That was insane,” he laughed, turning on his side and throwing his arm across your waist. “I needed that, baby.”

You kissed his nose, then his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His hand rubbed over your belly, a goofy grin on his face. “All three of you.”

You fell asleep in Eddie’s arms, cuddled closely to his chest. You slept peacefully, feeling safe and loved.

Eddie had a different experience. He couldn’t sleep, mind racing with thoughts of his life and future. He stared up at his ceiling, a sinking feeling in his chest. He was so disappointed in himself. This was supposed to be his year. He was supposed to graduate, make something of himself. Instead, here he was, a high school dropout washing dishes with soon to be two children to support.

He was a loser, just like he’d feared. Just like his dad. He had done everything in his power to keep from this fate, but it was all for nothing.

Mostly, he felt guilty for the babies. What kind of dad could he be if he could barely take care of himself? He made so little at Benny’s - it was better than nothing, but not by much. How the hell could he pay for the things two babies would need? And what about you?

He knew you deserved better. All three of you deserved better.

The only thing that got him through was the weed. He had promised you he would stop, but he was smoking more. It was a daily thing now, every second he had that he could get high, he’d take it. He was so miserable with his life, he needed the release.

You would be furious. Eddie knew that. He knew he shouldn’t still be smoking, he shouldn’t be wasting the little money he had on weed. He had even been calling out on days he got too high - which happened decently often. He knew his behavior was only solidifying his status as a total fucking deadbeat loser, but he couldn’t help it.

He had to have something to keep him going. He was so fucking depressed he didn’t know what to do with himself. If the weed helped, so be it.

Eddie crept out of the bed, careful not to disturb you. He opened his closet as quietly as possible and pulled out his stash box. He had a joint already rolled, which he plucked from the box and stuck behind his ear as he grabbed his lighter from the dresser and walked outside.

Taking a seat on the front steps, he removed the joint from his ear and brought it to his lips, sparking it up. He took a deep drag, the pungent smoke creeping down into his lungs. He held it, then released, the smoke billowing out from his lips in big clouds.

The warmth took over his body quickly. He felt lighter, happier. Every drag of the joint made those negative thoughts float farther away. He wasn’t thinking about his shitty job, or the fact he was going to be a father, or that he had dropped out of school and pissed off all his friends. There were no worries.

For that moment, everything was fine.

part 2 very soon

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[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Sleeplessness

Haymitch Abernathy x Reader

Summary: Life just isn't the same after winning the Hunger Games.

Warnings: heavily implied SA/non-con prostitution, angst, suicidal thoughts, nightmares, nudity (no smut), mentions of alcoholism, established relationship, hurt-comfort fic

Request: Could I get an angst/comfort fic with Haymitch? Reader is under the same contract with the Capital as Finnick-but is much more fragile after her games and lives with Haymitch to help take care of him and clean around to drown out her problems-added with the help of sleeping pills she takes. Both care about each other but maybe she hits a point where she breaks down after what the Capitol keeps doing to her.

A/N I'm so sorry this took so long, I got really busy

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Stumbling into the kitchen I found it a mess, just as I usually found it after spending a few days in the Capitol. The fatigue of the last few days was wearing on me as I considered whether I should go upstairs or not. But the racing thoughts in my mind immediately made the decision for me. I didn’t want to go upstairs and lay in dark silence, thinking about my most recent trip to the Capitol. So rather I picked up a plate, placing it in the sink as I started to tidy up.

Maybe any other night I would’ve taken more care to be quiet but the thought of silence made me want to scratch my own eyes out so I let the sound of running water and clinking dishes occupy my mind. I allowed myself to get lost in the task, scrubbing dishes rather than putting them in the wash. Letting the water just scald me rather than turn the temperature down.

I was only brought back to the present when I felt arms entwine around my waist and a head rest on my shoulder. A part of me immediately wanted to be released, reminded of all I had endured. But a second of consideration of my circumstances told me it was just Haymitch.

“I told you, you don’t have to clean up for me anymore,” his sleepy voice came.

“I don’t mind, I find it soothing.”

Initially after my games our relationship was purely symbiotic. Part of my victory came with the entertainment of my sponsors. Immediately after I was released from the arena—still in the Capitol—some Peacekeepers had ripped me from bed in the middle of the night to deliver me to a sponsor’s home. I had spent days after that terrified to sleep, not for fear of the nightmares from the arena, but for fear of being dragged out of bed only to end up in some wealthy guy’s bed. I had cried in my mentor’s arms for the entire rest of the time we were in the Capitol and on the train back to Twelve. Despite the big, new home waiting for me directly across from Haymitch’s, I had begged him to let me stay in one of the guest rooms for fear of being taken in the night with no witnesses. He had agreed, so long as I earned my keep so I had spent the last three years taking care of him. Even when our relationship became more than symbiotic, I still took care of him.

“I’ll hire one of the Seam kids to clean up,” Haymitch insisted, his fingers stroking through my hair. “Let’s go to bed. There’s more of your medicine if you want.”

I paused for a moment, just staring at the soapy glass in my hand. I didn’t want to shut my eyes—it truly was the last thing I wanted to do. I hated those pills, Snow gave them to Haymitch to help me sleep but I think they’re just another avenue of continued torture. Rather than help my sleep, they just trap me in my nightmares. Even being beside Haymitch I dreaded the nightmares that would inevitably plague my mind.

“That’s okay,” I dismissed. “I’ll be up in a few.”

When he sighed I knew that he saw right through me. We both had sleep issues, as was typical of victors. But he had managed to find peace in drunken hazes—another factor when it came to me caring for him. I had refused to touch the stuff after my games, terrified to wind up with nothing. And Snow’s pills were enough of a deterrence away from any other sort of substance.

Pressing one last kiss against my temple he pulled away reluctantly. “Okay,” he agreed, although he didn’t sound convinced. As he retreated I remained practically frozen until I heard his steps, heavy with exhaustion and liquor, reach the top of the stairs.

Returning to my mindless task, I tried to let my mind go blank. I found that I could do that sometimes, it felt like the only time I could truly relax. As I fell back into a systematic routine, my mind began to wander rather than stay still in murky nothingness.

Shivers went down my spine as I swore I could feel the hands of Capitol citizens on me. Increasing the speed of the water, I stuck my hands under the flow as I cleaned, trying to let the real feeling replace the phantom ones. Trying to dissociate again, I was dragged out of my peace by false noises. I could’ve sworn I heard noise at the front door, my hand snapping out to slam the faucet off. I didn’t dare move as I carefully listened for the sound of Peacekeepers outside my door. But after five minutes of just standing there in silence, I finally realized there was no one there.

Giving up on trying to distract myself, I headed upstairs. The kitchen was mostly clean anyways. But as I reached the landing, looking into the dark abyss of my bedroom—the door to which was slightly ajar—I found myself dreading sleep. I knew what waited for me in my dreams. The arena, the Capitol. All things I was supposed to be able to get away from when I came home. But I was robbed of peace the second I was born into this district rather than a life of luxury in the Capitol.

Turning to the bathroom, I decided to try to overwhelm my senses with a hot bath. At least the one solace I took in being a victor was access to hot water and a nice home.

~

Haymitch stirred as soft sobs penetrated his sleep. He was almost immediately awake as he processed what he was hearing. The sounds of his lover’s cries were quite possibly one of the worst sounds he had ever heard. Aside from her screaming for him when Peacekeepers dragged her out of their home and others were holding him back.

Scrambling out of bed, he saw the light in the bathroom was on. Reaching for the door, he found it locked, the handle not moving. “N/n?” he called through the door, the nervousness clear. “Can you open the door for me?” Hearing nothing, he got more nervous. “Y/n? Can you hear me?” Still nothing. “Look, if you don’t open the door I’m gonna break it down,” he warned, his tone becoming more frantic.

Finally, he heard water sloshing as she stepped out of the tub. He heard the lock click and his hand immediately flew to the handle, wrenching it open. Fortunately for her she had already backed away from the door and was now sinking back into the tub.

Haymitch just stared at her for a second as she was turned away from him. Only her upper back and her hair was exposed to him as she hugged her knees to her chest, trying to preserve her warmth in the already cooling bathtub.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked as he carefully rounded to the side of the tub. He took in her fragile figure, horrified to see a bite mark on her shoulder and light scratches on her arms. He dreaded to see what the rest of her looked like although he had seen her look worse after a trip to the Capitol.

She just sniffled, burying her face into her arms. They sat in quiet solitude for a moment, Haymitch just staring at her in concern. “‘M just so tired,” her words came out slurred.

Her mentor sighed, knowing just how much she had been struggling with this. “I know you don’t like them but-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before she retreated further into herself, her body shaking with sobs.

“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t take them anymore. I can’t take any of this anymore! I wish I died in there.” Her voice raised as she continued into desperate sobs of anguish.

“Hey,” Haymitch tried to interrupt her. Not caring about getting his sweatpants or t-shirt wet he reached into the tub, tugging her towards him so he could wrap his arms around her. He pulled her into him, angling her so she could bury her face in his shoulder. “Hey,” he tried to soothe, a hand rubbing against her bare back, careful to avoid her shoulder. “You’re okay,” he tried to assure, pulling away enough to press a kiss to her head before pulling her into him once again.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, wracking his brain for the right words to say. “I know you’re tired, I know it hurts, but don’t ever say that again,” he murmured softly. “I cannot lose you. I’m so sorry the games happened to you. I’m sorry about what’s happening to you. But I need you here with me. I love you.”

Masterlist

[kitashousewife]

sakusa yawns as he opens the front door to your shared home. he’s been gone for five days. five days of games, practices, clinics, trainings, and travel. he hasn’t had a second to himself and he hasn’t slept well at all.

“welcome home kiyoomi,” you smile with your arms out wide, and he comes crashing into you. he holds you close, ignoring the scattering of his belongings on the floor for now.

“did you have fun?” you mumble into his chest and he shakes his head.

“too long,” he yawns once more and you chuckle.

sakusa has decided he cannot live without you.

“is that so?” you pull away and ignore his rather emphasized pout, opting to grab his bags instead. “do you want something to eat?”

“m’good,” his words are mumbled as he slips off his jacket and shoes. “ate on the plane.”

you nod and shut the lights off in the kitchen while sakusa locks the door. he then begins to follow you as you walk through the house like a puppy. shuffling behind you while you set the thermostat, padding down the hallway while you separate his clothes into the laundry piles for the next day, and stopping once he finally enters the bedroom.

“do you want any tea?”

“not thirsty,” he grabs some pajamas from the closet gently as his limbs are feeling heavier by the minute.

to someone on the outside, sakusa would seem cold and distant in moments like these. but you know better than anyone that he’s exhausted. normally after short trips, sakusa can hardly get a breath in as he tells you everything he did while he was gone. this trip in particular was especially grueling though, and his body is feeling the effects.

you can tell in the look in his eyes, how he pulls you close and strokes your back, how he follows you around without a word just to be close to you that he loves you more than word could say right now.

“i’m sure you’re sore, i could run you a bath? i just got more of those bath salts at the store today that you like,” you grab a towel for him and hop up on the kitchen counter. he comes to stand in between your legs, resting his head on your shoulders.

“not tonight, too tired. a shower would be good,” his eyes are closed as he speaks, messy curls falling every which way over his forehead. you brush them back before planting a kiss to his lips and slip off the counter.

“you’re in luck, i picked up that body wash we liked from the store today. it was finally in stock,” the shower flicks on and you adjust the temperature for him, just how he likes.

“oh, thank you,” he throws his laundry into the hamper. and slips inside the shower just as steam fills the bathroom in warm embrace.

you leave him to it and fill your time with things to make his night a little easier. you plug in his charger for him, set his freshly cleaned and filled up water bottle on his nightstand, and put his bags away. by the time you slip into bed, sakusa walks out of the bathroom with pajamas on, hair dripping wet, and very tired eyes.

“god i missed our bed,” sakusa sighs as he nestles in behind you and pulls you close. “thanks for putting everything away,” he kisses your head. you turn around to face him and wrap yourself around his torso. he chuckles. “someone miss me?”

“a little,” your cheek is pressed up against his chest while your arms wrap around his torso, legs intertwined. “sounds like a rough trip.”

sakusa scoffs. “absolutely ridiculous. nothing professional about any aspect of it,” he huffs, and even though the room is pitch black you can sense his eyeroll. “i’ll tell you more about it in the morning though, i’m so tired i can’t think straight,”

“get some sleep omi,” your voice is a whisper as your body finds comfort in your lovers embrace at last. his eyes are heavy and his breathing becomes deeper in a matter of seconds.

typically, sakusa tells you multiple times how much he loves you before the two of you even shut your eyes, and once or twice more as he begins to fall asleep. but tonight there wasn’t a peep between either of you.

the two of you fall asleep, tangled together under the blankets and immersed in the safety of each other after five long days.

[t-horn-n]

— waterstrider

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader (female) 

genre: fluff ?

summary: watching you and ghost become you and ghost.

word count: 1 158

There is a certain inconsistency with you that Ghost is able to sense but not quite place when you first join the task force.  You’re the sort that wears her heart upon her sleeve.  You like to fill the room with your jokes and anecdotes and quips.  You spill your guts to the point that Ghost knows more about you and your idiot brother and how your parents have just retired) in the first six months following your arrival than he knew about the Captain in the first three years of knowing him.  On the internet, they would call you one of those people who can’t be mysterious because you yap too much.

Still, there is something that sets you apart from just any old civi.  And it is not simply that you’re good at staying calm in stressful situations, nor that you’re not half bad at military strategy.  Rather, it’s that you’ve compartmentalised yourself into the part that you offer to people (your brother, your parents’ retirement) and the part that you keep tucked into your chest, hidden beneath your ribs.  It’s an illusion, you see, that sense of complete transparency that you project.  

It was years ago, now.   When the scent of high school still clung to you and you were marginally more stupid than you are now.  You got yourself ensnared with the wrong, mean, borderline sociopathic sort of people so quickly that it was a real life example of the snowball effect.  Initially, it was just one time you brushed off your last period class to go around town with these guys you met at the convenience store to get back at your brother who, at the time, had a habit of being overprotective.  

Long story short, the whole situation ended with fingerprints around your neck and your head held down in the river behind the grocery mart that everyone was sure was a mafia front.  You remember being hauled out of that river with astonishing accuracy.  You remember the temperature of the water and the exact thoughts that raced through your mind.

Of course, over the years you recovered, squeezed the silty water from your lungs and learned some common sense.  But events like that are somewhat sticky.  

One of your motivations to join the military was to find the self-confidence to never feel like you did coughing up water and dirt, after all.  

You were wary—cat-like—when you first joined Ghost and the rest of the 141, but that’s just how it is in the military most of the time.  And after a few weeks you were bantering with them like you had known them for years.  Truly, it seemed as though you were the most normal one out of them.

What they don’t know is that you don’t like showers.  Or at least, you don’t like the sensation of the water beating on your face.  It feels like you’ll just forget how to breathe and the water will fill your lungs again.  So instead you’ll stand at the edge of the shower, wetting a soapy washcloth every evening after training.  

You’ll never go swimming, of course.   You won’t take the chance.  Even when you can see the bottom, an irrational, bone-deep paralysis traps you in this space where your thoughts are very loud and your body feels very far away.  It’s fine, though.   There isn't a great deal of demand for aquatic soldiers.  

You don’t like sleeping under a lot of covers either, but you’re a cold sleeper and you don’t have control over the temperature on base, so you layer hoodie over hoodie at night.  Inevitably, you look like a mass of sentient fabric if you ever  encounter one of your  peers in the kitchen late at night.  

Talking is how your little dance with Ghost started, though, late night encounters aside.  Sometimes, you would open with a joke on the way back to base from the training grounds and he would reply with his own and you would both feel a special sense of connection that is a little different than that most often found in  military task forces.  It wasn’t brotherhood, like what linked Ghost to Soap and Price and Gaz.  

On other occasions, you all would be at a bar on the weekend, making the cheap beer taste better with each other’s company.  You and Ghost would be perched on your barstools and he would be telling you about some stunt Soap pulled years ago while the other three men kept each other entertained.  You two would still be there after Price, Soap, and Gaz sobered up in the late night air on the way to the bus stop that took them back to the base.  You would blink and then it was midnight and you were on the bus with all of the other witching hour vagrants that got on after spending too much time staring at the bottom of a glass, but you wouldn’t even see them because you were too busy listening to Simon and his wonderfully deep, tired voice.  You would be pressed shoulder to shoulder, each staring at your feet or your hands.  

There are very special times, too.  The kind that you will remember the sensation of—the moment’s taste, its colors, its imprint on your mind—even after you’ve forgotten the time and place and the words said.  Like when Ghost becomes Simon.  Like when he tells you about his mother and the man she was married to.  Like when he presses his lips to your neck and instead of feeling cold and wet and gross like you expect it to, he just sighs, warmly, in a way that makes you feel like you’ve been filled with helium.

Then, when that dance you were doing becomes more confident, when you start pulling and twisting each other about the dance floor rather than just hoping you’ll brush the other’s hand as you glide aimlessly around, those compartments that you have successfully preserved for the last decade shift, somewhat.  They don’t break, by any means.  Simply, they are rearranged.

Simon runs hot.  Especially when he sleeps, which means that when he crashes in your quarters you de-layer and tuck your cold feet between his calves.  Simon is also a big man, though.  So when he rolls over on to your chest in the middle of the night, you are startled awake.  You remember the pressure as the air in your lungs was replaced by something denser.  While he sleeps—deeply, as he always does in your quarters—you stare at the ceiling, watching the fuzzy darkness undulate over and around itself.

Eventually, you will tell him why you can’t tolerate your face being covered while you sleep.  You’ll divulge the contents of your nightmares.  Someday, his past and yours will be murmured into existence whether on a late-night bus back from town or in his bathroom as you brush your teeth together on some random Thursday night.

— m. list

[noirscript]

05; the washing

Pairing: Yandere!Priest x Reader Description: You are not his lover—you are his altar, his sacred ruin, the pulse beneath every prayer he’s ever whispered into bloodstained hands. To Enoch, devotion means worship through possession, and he would rather see the world burn than let anyone else touch what he believes is divinely his. Warning/s: Yandere | Obsessive Devotion | Home Invasion | Implied Poisoning | Religious Delusions | Emotional Manipulation | Implied Kidnapping | Psychological Horror | Implied Noncon Note/s: Enjoy reading! Also, I fucked up a bit irl and behind some bills. Dark Roast is still on sale until end of the month. Also, commissions are still open. Either send me an email or message me on discord (noirscrypt) if interested.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast 50% Off

You feel the roses before you see them. Not the soft, powdered perfume you’d expect from a bridal bouquet, but something heavier—dense and humid, like breath trapped in a crypt. The scent clings, viscous and sweet with decay, steeped in overripe petals and the sharp sting of old blood. They’re waiting for you on the kitchen counter when you return from the final wedding tasting: twelve roses so dark they drink the light, packed in a box too tight, like wet organs stuffed into ribs.

No card. Just an envelope. Sealed.

The wax is unmistakable—red, cracked, pressed with the imprint of an ecclesiastical ring you last saw on the hand of a dead priest. You know that seal. You know that theft. You know who sent it before your fingers even dare to tremble over the parchment.

You were always the altar. I only ever wanted to kneel. Let me wash the dust from your feet, one final time. —E.

James asks who it’s from. You lie. Something about a florist’s mix-up. He hums an off-key tune as he pours wine and scrolls through reception playlists, his fingers brushing yours on the stem of the glass. But you barely feel it. Your skin still remembers the seal—still pulses from the echo of it. That wax might as well have branded you.

Enoch Saintclair.

You haven’t spoken his name in years. Not aloud. Not since you taught yourself not to dream about thunder and stained glass. Once, he was just the silent boy in church with a spine like a cathedral beam and eyes like holy water spoiled in a silver chalice. He smelled of old hymnals and myrrh, always one shadow too still. A former altar boy turned antique dealer with the uncanny grace of someone who never quite belonged to this century.

You sang in the same youth choir. You shared breath in the same confessional box. He once handed you a rose during Lent and carved your name into the wax of a votive candle. You laughed at something small during a storm once—just a joke—and he wrote an entire psalm about the curve of your mouth when you said the word forgive.

He didn’t see you as a girl.

He saw you as a sacred thing.

And instead of running, you smiled.

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

The night before your wedding, you lock the door. Bolt the windows. You place James’ wine on the nightstand and watch him drink too deeply, his lips loose with affection and slurred vowels. He falls asleep to the sound of your silence.

You don’t listen for footsteps. You listen for the places where silence folds in on itself. For the way the air changes when something holy goes rancid.

At 2:18 a.m., it arrives.

The temperature dips. The stillness thickens, syrupy and strange, like breath caught in prayer. And you know. Before you open your eyes, you already know.

He’s here.

And when your eyes do open, he’s standing at the foot of the bed—not entering, not arriving, simply being, as though he was never outside the room at all. As though he’s been sleeping somewhere deeper inside you, waiting for this moment like a sacrament.

Enoch stands in the half-light with a porcelain basin in his hands. Ornate. Victorian. Its rim is chipped, kissed by time, and filled with water so dark it gleams like oil. Steam curls from it in rich spirals. The scent of roses hits you first—roses drowned in something metallic, something older, something wrong. Like rust and salt and the slick sweetness of rot.

You don’t scream.

You sit up, throat tight. “You drugged him.”

He waits. Then, calm as candlelight: “He was unclean. He would’ve touched you without reverence. Without worship.”

He moves closer, slow and barefoot, robes of shadow swaying as he kneels beside the bed. The basin rests between you like an offering. He folds his long body into the posture of devotion—head bowed, spine bowed, hands trembling in the space between sin and surrender.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper.

He lifts his eyes to you, and it’s like drowning in sanctified ink. “You don’t believe that.”

Your pulse kicks like a trapped bird. “I’ll call the cops.”

“You won’t.” His voice is velvet, soaked in certainty. “You’re already wondering what’s in the water. Whether it’s holy oil, or rose water, or something redder. You’re wondering if it’s blood.”

You flinch. Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out.

He reaches for your ankle. You jerk back.

He doesn’t chase. He waits.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You said those words once before,” he murmurs. “And then you kissed my hand.”

“I was seventeen—”

“You anointed me.” His smile is the ghost of something unholy. “You touched me, and I bloomed into reverence.”

This time, when he takes your foot, you don’t resist. He dips it into the basin. The water is hot—intimate, obscene, like a mouth against your skin. You feel the heat ripple through you, feel it curl into places untouched. His hands tremble again, but not with hesitation.

With restraint.

He lifts a cloth. Begins to wash you. Slow. Painfully slow. His fingers trace over your arch, between each toe, up the soft skin of your heel like he’s mapping scripture. With every pass, the act becomes more than cleansing. It becomes adoration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he says, voice rasping at the edges. “To carry someone in your mouth for years. To speak their name at dawn and dusk. To whisper it into your own skin. To kneel at altars and know—know—that none of them hold your divinity.”

His breath warms your calf. He presses his lips there, a kiss so slow it feels more like a vow.

“I would’ve torn out my tongue if you’d asked. I would’ve burned down every church that dared take your name in vain.”

“Why now?” The question cracks from your throat. “Why not let me go?”

“Because he doesn’t kneel,” Enoch whispers. “He fucks. I worship.”

He switches feet.

You don’t stop him.

The water has gone darker, laced with crushed petals and something thicker. When he lifts the cloth again, it’s already stained red. Beneath the surface, a shimmer of gold catches your eye—a bracelet. Yours. The one you lost your senior year. A single charm dangles from it: a heart, split and hollowed.

“I followed you to college,” he says. “Sat through lectures. Counted how many times you laughed. Knew when it was real. Knew when it wasn’t. I memorized the sound of your lies.”

He kisses your foot again. Slower. Deeper. His lips barely part, but the heat lingers.

“I made a shrine,” he breathes. “Books filled with your notes. Clothes that smelled like you. Hair I gathered from your brush. It was never desecration. It was sacred.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m yours.”

He rises. The motion is fluid, reverent. His shadow drapes over you as he leans forward. Your back hits the headboard. There is nothing between you but breath and trembling will.

“You’re not afraid of me,” Enoch says, low. “You’re afraid of how right this feels.”

“I’m marrying him.”

“No.” A slow smile spreads across his lips. “He’ll sleep for days. The doctors won’t find a thing. And when they ask, you’ll say you don’t know what happened. Because you’re merciful. Because you’re kind. Because somewhere in you, I’m still the boy you never stopped blessing.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m in love.”

He leans close. You feel his breath in your ear—hot, humid, consecrated.

“I’ve worshipped you in silence long enough.”

Then softer. Deeper.

“Let me serve you in sin.”

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

He leaves before dawn. No threats. No chains. No rage.

Only stillness.

You sit there, unmoving, the sheets heavy with him. When you finally rise, your feet leave damp, red prints on the wood. You scrub them. Again. Again. Until your skin peels.

But they stay red.

His scent clings to the sheets—roses and rust and old churches. You light candles. You pray. You try not to tremble.

When you glance out the window, you see it.

A cloth tied to the iron fence.

White. Folded. Bloodied.

An offering.

You want to look away.

But your eyes find the words, stitched in bruised thread along the fraying hem:

Blessed are the broken things... ...for they bend easier to worship.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya

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[sweatyracoon]

Tell Me

A/n: Sorry it's been so long. I'll try to be more active, but enjoy this in the mean time.

Warnings: suggestive, vampire boy, angst, fluff? Part two

You had known Felix for a while, but you felt like you didn't know him at the moment.

A few weeks ago he left the shared apartment to visit a few friends at the theater. He came back feeling a little sick.

It had lasted a few days. You stayed home from work trying to help him feel better. It seemed like the flu or a head cold.

He got better, but he was still extremely pale, making his freckles brighter than they had ever been.

His eyes seemed brighter, but darkened when he became upset. He started avoiding you a bit more each passing day, confusing you.

He left the house more often, more during the evening. He felt cold anytime you tried reaching for him, flinching at the temperature of his skin. What was going on with him? Was he still sick?

You asked him once, but he claimed to be fine. It made you sad knowing that your friend didn't feel he could confine in you.

He was wearing more sleeved shirts despite it being summer.

You had finally had enough, not knowing where he was at the late hours if the night.

You decided to stay up in the living room to wait. It was nearly four before you finally heard the door handle unlock.

You stuttered, close to sleep before you heard him. You quickly turned on the light, making him wince in surprise.

He turned to face you, making your jaw drop slightly.

You hadn't seen him face to face in a long while. Just a side glance in passing.

His features had changed drastically.

His blonde hair was black due to tonight's antics, and his freckles had paled, but still leave the highlights to his pale face. His eyes larger somehow, with a red tint. His lips plump and wet, his canines poking out from his top lip.

His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, looking straight into your eyes.

"Where have you been?" You asked quietly.

"Out," he responded, pocketing his keys. The light jingle of the chain filled the silence.

"But where, Felix? I hardly see you anymore, and you've changed." You plead with him suddenly,missing your best friend.

"I haven't changed, y/n. I've just been busy, is all." He sighed, walking to the island in the kitchen, grabbing a glass to fill with water.

"Your hair is black, Felix," You deadpan, not letting it go.

"Just a dumb decision one of the guys suggested. You like it?" He grinned, sipping from the glass.

You couldn't tell him no, because boy, did the color do him justice. His long hair framed his face, and since it was dark, it went really well with his pale features. You gulped.

"Yes, but-" he interrupted.

"So? I'm alright, y/n. Nothing's wrong," he washed his cup, hoping you'd quiet about the subject. "Why are you awake, anyway? It's nearly time for you to go to work."

"I took the day off. I was hoping we could hang out like we used to? We haven't done that since you've gotten sick," you say, hoping to get to him. Not necessarily guilt tripping, but guilt tripping.

He paused, swallowing nervously.

"I work today," he said quickly, confirming your suspicion.

"Felix, you don't have a job," you sigh, suddenly feeling defeat.

It seemed like your best friend didn't want to spend time with you. Which was fine. You just wish he'd admit it rather than tip toeing around you.

"I just don't think it'd be a good idea is all, y/n," He sighed, coming over to stand a few feet from where you sat. "It's not you, honey. I just have some things going on,"

"Like what, Felix?" You stood suddenly, making his eyes widen. "What's so important that you don't even want to see me? You avoid me like the plague, and it makes sad. We used to do everything together. What happened to you?"

At this point you were nearly yelling, and Felix took a few steps back in shock. You were known for your patience.

"I-"

"And don't give me that nothing bullcrap. Something is obviously going on. Do you have a girlfriend? Is that it?" You were close to tears in frustration.

Felix stopped, looking at you like you had just slapped him.

"Girlfriend? No! I told you I was hanging with the guys! Bangchan and Hyunjin, the ones I introduced you to. Listen, I'm just going through something is all. It's not you," Felix tries calming you down, but it only gets you more worked up.

"What is it? What are you going through that we can't go through together? We always did,"

His eyes softened at your words, coming closer to you.

"I'm just going through some changes. I'm still getting used to them. I'm sure you've noticed a few," he tilted his head at you, waiting for you to follow.

It was then when you caught the light bouncing from his bottom lip. They were still moist, and his top canines poked through, leaving small indents on his lower lip.

"Did you sharpen your teeth? And you are more pale...other than that and the hair, I don't see much of a difference."

It was a lie. You noticed everything. How he changed how he dressed slightly, showcasing his tiny figure. How his hands seemed more pronounced, as if he had suddenly hit puberty, the hunger in his gaze. Not lustful, but a yearning for someone to understand whatever it was that he was going through.

"No, I didn't. It's natural...kinda." he smiled lightly. "It's kinda hard to explain."

"Just try," you begged, grasping at his hands, making him freeze.

"why are you so cold? Do you want me to turn on the heat?" You asked, brings his hands up to your neck hoping to heat them up.

"Uhh, no. I'm okay."

He couldn't breathe all of the sudden. He felt the pulse under your skin, the artery that laid just underneath his palm.

"Just look, okay? Don't freak out?" He looked at you, and you nodded.

He gently twisted his neck to the side, showing his neck. You were confused about what he wanted you to see. Until you saw them.

Two marks on the soft skin of his neck where it met his shoulder. Dots. Resembling the same marks as the ones on tv. Vampire bite marks.

"Is this a joke?" You ask, your voice void of any emotion. You let your hands loosen around felixs', his hands dropping back to his sides.

"No," His eyes glowed with confusion. He did what you asked. "I told you-"

He silenced quickly when you brought two rough fingers up to his neck, rubbing a lot harder than you meant to. You wanted to run the makeup off his neck.

"Ow!" He jerked away from you.

That area of his neck was slightly red, but the bite mark remainder as bright as ever.

"Why isn't it rubbing off?" You ask hesitantly.

"Because it's real, damnit!" He scoffed, massaging the irritated area gently.

"How? All that junk isnt real, Felix. This is a terrible excuse to-"

You couldn't even finish, Felix suddenly snapping, pushing you against the wall. You were pinned, your breath quickening at the sight of your friend.

His eyes blazed a wicked red while his teeth seemed to grow. He scowled, showcasing the pearly whites that framed his wet tongue. His hair suddenly disheveled, his breathing heavy.

"I said, it's real! Just listen to me. Your the one that told me to spill what was wrong!" He all but growled at you, making you cower.

"What are you, Felix?" You whisper, surprised you didn't feel any fear. If anything, you could have sworn you were slightly aroused. But you weren't going to think about that right now.

"I'm still me. Nothing more, nothing less, okay?" His gaze softened as well as his tone, lowering his arms from the makeshift cage he had put you in.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

You cut him off with a hug, smiling, feeling relieved at knowing your best friend still wanted you.

"It's okay. It might be a side effect? I'll let it slide. Just don't let it happen often," you grin, seeing the weight fall from his shoulders.

"Can we still hang out tomorrow?" He grinned back, holding your hand.

"Yes. Now let's go to sleep." You said, yawning. You felt the tiredness crumble onto you.

"Oh...I can't sleep."

You groaned, leaving him to stand in the living room giggling.

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

One - The Hallway

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here

Previous Chapter

The human body is extraordinary. It does so many things like waking you up two hours before your alarm is set. It’s five o’clock in the morning and the last thing you want to be is up. This gives you way too much time to overthink your first day of school. 

The outfit you planned out the night before is thrown over your desk chair. It’s something simple and plain. You don’t want to draw too much attention to yourself. Your usual wardrobe would cause you to stick out like a sore thumb. 

You close your eyes and pray that your body lets you go back to sleep but after ten minutes of tossing and turning you knew that it was a lost cause. You reach over and turn on the lamp on your night stand. It takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the change in lighting but when they finally do, you sigh. Of course this had to happen to you. Your usual ten hours of sleep is reduced to eight. 

You can hear the rustle of your parents getting ready for work. They are usually out of the house before you wake up and back home long after you’ve gone to sleep. When you were little, you only saw them for a split second in the day when they came to pick you up from school. In middle school they gave you a bike and expected you to learn how to ride it on your own. It’s been just you and your bike ever since. 

You kill time by watching a movie on your laptop. It’s some new romcom that recently came out. Rom Coms are some of your favorite movies to watch because they move something within you. They make up for the lack of love and support in your life. 

Before you know it, two hours have passed by and your alarm goes off. You rub your tired eyes and finally leave the comfort of your bed. Your new room has a bathroom in it. The cold tile floors shock your bare feet but they soon get used to the temperature. 

You observe yourself in the mirror. Your tired eyes and tangled hair are just a reflection of how you feel inside. It’s only the first day but you are already want to give up. You can already feel the monotony tiring you out. 

Maybe you can join a club or two and make some new friends. It seems like everyone back home already forgot about you even though you left a week ago. Your best friend of six years left you on delivered for two days before making up an excuse as to why she didn’t respond fast enough. 

You splash your face with some cold water and try to think about something else. There was no use in thinking about that right now when there’s another pressing issue at hand. 

Lakeview high school is about a twenty minute walk and a six minute bike ride away from your house. The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you zip through your neighborhood. It’s a beautiful morning but you’d rather a car hit you than admit it. 

Jeeps, Teslas, Toyotas, Subarus, BMWs, Ford trucks, and one Honda fill up the parking lot. Those cars confirm your fears; this is a rich kid school. Your parents are very well off so you’ve grown up around rich kids. From your experience, they’re all spoiled little brats who whine when things don’t go their way. Thankfully, you’re parents never really gave a fuck so they didn’t spoil you. That allowed you to appreciate the things you have. 

You dismount your bike and lock it up. 

Lakeview looks like the school from the Breakfast Club. Everything is inside. Growing up in California, you got used to going to outside schools. No lockers, no roofs in the hallways, and wide open spaces greeted you every time you went to school. Everything inside of one big building? Now that, that was different. 

Blue and yellow lockers line the walls of the hallway. Students lean on them as they chat with their friends, no doubt talking about what they got up to over the summer. People fist bump each other as they walked down the hallway and couples suck on eachothers faces with no shame. You ogle at the people walking with the confidence you wished you had right now. It looked like a scene out of some cult classic high school movie. 

You take out the folded up paper that has your schedule on it and glare at it. Homeroom: Room 702. It would have been lovely to know where room 702 is but with multiple staircases going all over the place and no signs in sight, this started to feel less like public school and more like an agoraphobic person's personal hell. 

You take a deep breath and walk up to the nearest person. Their blue shirt catches your eye. It’s one of the colors that doesn’t hurt your eyes. You tap them on the shoulder and when they turn around, they look at you as if you just sprouted two heads.

“Hi, umm, sorry to bother you but do you know where Room 702 is?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly. 

The person points in front of them and then walks away. You gulp and stare in front of you, confused. No one has ever told you that you come off intimidating so that person's demeanor really confuses you. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter under your breath and lean against the wall of lockers. You close your eyes and hold the bridge of your nose. You feel exhausted and you haven’t even done anything really strenuous. 

“Excuse me,” someone says, “you’re leaning against my locker.”

You open your eyes and catapult yourself off the wall. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize. 

The person in front of you looks eerily familiar. Her honey blonde hair is thrown up in a pony tail but you remember it flowing beautifully in the summer breeze. This time you have a chance to make out the color of her eyes. Her blue eyes remind you of the ocean. They remind you of home. 

“Hey, aren’t you new?” she asks, her hand reaching out to shake yours.

You nod and accept the handshake. “Yeah. I just moved here from California.” 

“Cool. I could tell by your accent. It’s very…valley girl! I’m Abby, by the way.” And then she tilts her head and scrunches her eyebrows together, “are you a senior?” 

You nod again and introduce yourself. Your name flows through her mouth like honey. Only then do you realize that the two of you are still shaking hands. You break the handshake and chuckle a bit. 

“Sorry, I’m a little nervous. I don’t know where my homeroom is and some kid in a blue shirt looked at me like I just grew two heads.” 

Abby takes a look at your schedule. “I’m headed towards Room 702 if you want me to walk you over.”

“Please,” you practically beg her. Your body relaxes when she offers to walk you to class. 

The two of you walk side by side down the hallways and up the stairs. A few twists and turns around the school and you’re standing in front of Room 702. The door is open and you can see that there’s only one more seat left, yours.

You turn to Abby and thank her, sincerity laced in your voice. 

“It’s no problem really. If you ever need anything, stop by the softball pitch. That’s where I am most of the time. It’s nice meeting you,” she says before she turns and walks down the hallway. 

You walk into the class and sit down in the only available seat. The two people beside you were engaged in conversation before you sat down so you felt bad about breaking them up. You chew on your lip, ready for them to scoff or curse you out, but it never comes.

“Are you new?” the girl next to you asks. 

“Yeah, I am. Sorry, by the way, for interrupting your conversation.”

“Oh, please. You did nothing of the sort. I got tired of him a while ago. I’m Dina and the guy next to you is Jesse.” She flashes a million dollar smile and all of a sudden, you don’t feel scared anymore. You are going to be okay.

“How did you know I was new?”

“It's a pretty small school. Everyone has pretty much gone to the same school since elementary. It’s pretty rare that we get new kids,” Jesse says. 

“And because you’re wearing shorts in September. No one here wears shorts unless it’s the middle of July,” Dina adds. 

So much for ‘fitting in,’ you think to yourself. 

Dina can sense your discomfort. “Don’t worry. It’s bold! I like bold.”

After the teacher, Miss. Woods, introduced herself as a first year teacher, you felt good knowing that you weren’t the only new person here. She sat down at her desk and said that for the rest of the class they could just talk about anything. 

You learned that Dina was the co-captain on the cheerleading team and Jesse was on the wrestling team. They both did phenomenal in school on top of being able to manage athletics, clubs, and partying. Everyone you’ve met so far has been kind and gratuitous so maybe the universe wasn’t out to get you. 

At lunch, Dina and Jesse invite you to sit with them. They are joined by Dina’s girlfriend, Ellie, also a member of the softball team. 

“So, wait. You left California and came here?” Ellie asked, perplexed at how someone would leave the dream state. 

“I didn’t have much of a choice but I guess Washington is cool. Temperature wise at least.” You mutter the last part under your breath.

“Well, you’ve met the right people because some kids at this school can be total assholes,” Ellie looks up, “speaking of.”

You follow Ellie’s line of sight and see Abby joined by the guy that was driving the truck. His varsity jacket is thrown over his shoulder in some display of faux coolness as he holds Abby’s hand. Something inside of you twitches with distaste. They don’t look right together, but who are you to judge? You’ve only had one conversation with her. It’s not like you know them or their relationship.

Abby and the guy sit down at the now silent table. He looks you up and down and asks, “who’s the new kid?”

You introduce yourself but this time it’s with a lot less enthusiasm than when you introduced yourself to Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and Abby. 

“I’m Owen, captain of the football team and the coach's son. Pretty sure you’ve heard of me already.” 

You nod your head, not wanting to embarrass him. The truth is that you haven’t heard of him from anyone. You can tell from this very short interaction that he exudes arrogance and everything that you hate. Not to mention the fact that he smells like dirt and cigarettes. 

Lunch flys by, thankfully and now you’re sitting at a table in your history class. History is by far one of your favorite subjects. It’s not too hard but the material is complex enough to keep your brain satisfied and occupied. 

You sit there, clicking your pen mindlessly as you wait for someone to sit next to you. The warning bell rings and the chair next to you scrapes against the tiled floor. Abby flops down in the seat and sighs. 

“I had to run here from the parking lot. Owen made me go get something from his car,” Abby says out of breath. 

“Why didn’t you tell him to do it himself?” “Enough about him,” Abby dismisses any further questions about her boyfriend and redirects the conversation, “how’s your first day been so far.” 

You can manage a “Pretty go-” before you’re cut off by the sound of the final bell. 

The teacher walks in and closes the door behind him. He’s tall, taller than the average man and he’s wearing a blue and white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The black watch on his wrist beeps and his thick fingers go to turn it off. Something about him makes you feel safe and protected, like you can trust him with anything. 

He walks to the front of the class to introduce himself. “Good afternoon, seniors. Welcome to your last first day of public school. My name is Mr. Miller and I’ll be your history teacher for the next year.” 

He takes out a stack of papers from his black leather messenger bag and begins to pass them out. “This is the syllabus. Look over it with your parents and make sure to get their signature. If you turn it back in to me by Friday you can receive extra credit.” 

You’ve become a master at forging your parents signature so you can have it back to him by the end of the day if he isn’t a narc. 

Before you know it, your first day at Lakeview is over and you're back on your bike riding down the streets of your neighborhood. It’s more lively today than it was when you got here. There are dogs barking, joggers running past you, cars honking at you to get out of the way, and children playing in their front yards. 

You come to a halt when you realize that there’s been a car following you ever since you left school. The window rolls down and you are met with the smell of dirt and cigarettes. “Need a ride?” Owen lifts his eyebrow.

“No thanks. I live right here.” You curse yourself for basically doxing yourself to someone you definitely don’t want knowing where you live.

“Oh, nice house. I live down the street so if you ever need anything don’t be afraid to ask. Any friend of Abby’s is a friend of mine.” He winks and then drives off. 

You scrunch up your face in disgust and drop your bike off in the driveway. No one’s going to steal your bike because everyone around here has enough money to buy ten. 

You're greeted by the sound of silence when you enter your house. You hang your backpack and keys up by the door and flop down on the couch. Your parents haven’t gone grocery shopping yet so you order a large pizza for yourself and watch TV until you fall asleep on the couch.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

If you'd like to join the tag list, send me a PM me and you'll be added.

Thank you all for reading. 🌻

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 24)

TW: Kinda Gross.

It took awhile for the new “Doorman Family.” To adjust to their new living situation, Uzi had begun to pack up her old room, and a few boxes of stuff had already been packed in and sat on the kitchen counter. Tera was spending the day with Khan and Uzi.

While N was doing something… rather unpleasant.

Despite the container Uzi had made him lasting a long time, it did still need to be refilled once a week, and he'd already been out for two days. He just… hadn't felt like going out and getting more, it had been so comfortable to not worry about it for over a week.

But with his internal temperature beginning to pass the double digits and into the triple, he couldn't put it off any longer, he needed to go out again.

And while he could head to the nursery and ask for some, with the amount he would need every week he felt as if he would be taking oil from the mom's and babies who needed it. It was the same reason he never touched Uzi's stash, she needed it, and she needed more when she was the one filtering it for Tera as well.

So instead, he was going to the only other place in the bunker where there was a surplus of oil nobody would miss.

Doll's room.

He didn't entirely love that idea, but Doll hadn't been seen for months, and her room had been completely untouched for that time too, unless V had snuck in for a snack.

Plus, he didn't want to leave the bunker if he didn't have to, his family was here, and trying to go out, find a corpse to siphon from (which wouldn't even fill half his bottle) and trying to be back by morning was going to be a tight squeeze, and he didn't feel like going back to risking his neck every night when he had someone waiting for him to get back.

Heh, someone waiting for him.

Even though he was one of the most dangerous things in the bunker, or even on Copper-9 he still felt nervous to go back there, his footfalls feeling heavy and hesitant as he drew closer to the hallway it was located. The air around him was full of tension, even if the rest of the drones were going about their normal day.

When the door swooped open, the lights were off, concealing what was truly in the room, and he made sure it was closed behind him before he took a deep breath to steady himself. Other drones didn't need to see this, he didn't want to see it, but he had a task at hand, and well, he was already here.

And he turned on the light.

The first thing his eyes landed on was the braided chains hanging from the ceiling, coated in coagulatied oil, various limbs stuffed between the chain links awkwardly, bent horribly as they were forced through without care if they fit or not.

He really didn't like being in here, somehow it was more eerie then the spire, not just because he was used to it, the corpses that made it up were cleaned out and empty, nothing but burned out servos and warped metal. Drained of every livegiving drop of oil long ago.

The ones here still seemed to move. Each coated in it's own oil that had semi-hardened with time, glistening, dripping rhythmicly like a long forgotten sink. Doll was essentially practicing bloodletting, letting oil drip from their wounds and settle into buckets placed below the chains, helped by gravity.

She'd been methodical in her work, she didn't have fangs, so every wound that was inflicted “post mortem” was small, calculated and near perfect, maximized for draining every drop of oil into the buckets below, a part of him was impressed, even J hadn't been this efficient when she was feeding.

He let out a shaky breath, trying not to linger here any longer than required to get this done. He went over to the closest full bucket, the smell (oh why did his creator give him a sense of smell?) was nearly overpowering, so sickly sweet it made his mouth water, and his eyes burn, a conflict between his morality and his knawing hunger.

He pulled out his container and began to gingerly pour out the buckets contents into it, trying to ignore the constant skittering of the robo-roaches above him, clinging to the bodies that were closest to the ceiling.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He whispered to himself, feeling the jitters crawl up his back with every moment he lingered. He felt as though someone or something was watching him

Maybe it was the pungent smell, or the lighting that was somehow bathed the room in red, but he could almost hear… whispers, spoken by the bodies around him, begging him to help them, to save them.

Or to join them.

Finally, his container was full, but by then his hands were trembling and he didn't put the bucket back down gracefully, it clattered to the ground, breaking the relative silence in the room, suddenly all the skittering stopped, as did the whispers.

He froze for a moment, halfway expecting something to jump him for daring to make so much noise. He gulped, glancing to both of his sides before she sighed, he was just being paranoid. Doll wasn't here, no one was-

There was a clatter from the bedroom.

His head and his stinger both whipped in that direction, all his sensors snapping into fight mode, he grabbed his container and held it close to him, an instinctual growl escaping him.

His desire to make sure it was nothing, to make sure it wasn't a threat to his family, drove him forward. His legs pushed him even through his apprehension, and the silence was genuinely deafening, every sensor, every ounce of processing power was being used to take in every single detail. His eyes disappeared, replaced by the iconic “X” that disassembly drones were known for.

As he creeped into the bedroom and flicked on the light, he found, for starters, that it was a completely normal bedroom, it was clean, tidy, and thankfully distant from the oppressive carnage present in the rest of the apartment.

He roamed all seven of his eyes all over the room, finding that nothing was out of place as far as he could tell, but… he knew he heard something, he didn't imagine it.

He took a step farther into the room, before he tripped, his body lurching forward and slamming into the carpet, he yelped, the fall taking the “X” off his face, and a hiss of pain as his visor smacked the floor, producing a very shallow crack.

“Agh…” He groaned, lifting himself up slowly, his nanites already fixing the hairline fracture before he'd even noticed he'd hurt himself.

He stood up and looked back at the doorway, where he felt his core jump up into his throat.

On the floor was something slick, black, and pulsing as if it was alive, he felt his breath hitch as he immediately brought out a sword, ready to fight whatever being it was connected to.

But it only continued to lie there, still aside from the rhythmic pulses as if it had a heart that was beating. His eyes trailed along the… tentacle… vein? to see where it lead, only for it to seem to dissappear underneath the bed.

He'd seen this before, attached to centipede J. But this one seemed… inert. He slowly moved towards it, his sword still drawn from his hand as he brought the tip of it closer.

He poked it, and watched as it flinched away from the sharp tip but didn't move, the pulsing growing more frantic at the contact.

He didn't know wether he wanted to scream like a bitch and run away, or vomit. What the heck was this? This growth in Doll's room that should be attached to something organic, that was just… on the floor.

He poked it again, it flinched again, but still made no moves to well… move.

He wasn't sure what to do, this wasn't normal, what if this thing got out? Was it just deciding not to move or was it stuck there? What was it attached to?

He took another deep breath, this was freaky… but he didn't seem to be actively in danger, so he put his sword away, replacing it with his hand, and leaned down next to the king sized bed, lifting up the covers to peer underneath it.

He found that the vein wasn't attached to anything accept to the underside of the bed, where it was held there by a strange red… mass that resembled moss, if moss smelled of iron, and seemed to squirm, carrying the same pulses the vein was making, a heartbeat, or breathing.

Small black veins ran through the moss, much like the circulatory system in something that was organic and much larger. N gulped before deciding that he wanted to see if this too, was stationary, and unsheathed his sword to prod at the mass.

It too flinched, but it had the added lovely bonus of beginning to seep and thick red liquid, almost oil but… not as thick. He smelled iron, and as he pulled the sword away the tip glimered crimson. Somehow it was familiar to him, and he touched the tip of the blade, smearing the tips of his fingers together.

Blood.

How he knew that, he didn't quite know.

He pulled back, creepiness reaching a fever pitch. He decided it was time to leave, and lock this… thing. Inside this apartment, and he wouldn't ever come back in here, nope, weird creepy flesh moss could have this room, thank you.

He hurriedly made his way back to his apartment with a full canister of oil, and a core full of fear…

Next ->

[dracowars]

astraphobia | rafe cameron

pairing: rafe x reader

word count: 1,5k

summary: where y/n is scared of thunder

a/n: my first ever rafe cameron fic, omg!!! i truly hope you like it 🤍 reblogging and feedback is always appreciated!! fun fact, which is more just a fact and not so much fun: i’m indeed scared of thunders & my parents always wanted to watch the lightning with me.. welp, guess i'm traumatized now lmao

warnings: angst, astraphobia

universe: outer banks

An incredibly loud bang rips through your bones, ripples through your entire body and you startle, your eyes widening and your heart racing. It takes a moment before you realize where you are and what you just woke up to. A heavy storm is raging outside and the masses of water falling from the dark sky are pattering against the window panes, breaking through the previous silence.

Trying to calm yourself down, you breathe in and out slowly and evenly, pulling the covers up to your chin even though the hot summer's day temperature has not cooled down in the night at all. You regain control of your body after a few seconds and all your muscles relax again. That is until the room brightly lights up before your eyes and the same loud, if not even louder and deafening than before, bang sounds immediately afterwards.

The thunderstorm must be right above you.

Anxious, you cling to the soft duvet, your body tense from top to bottom, but you do not dare to move a single muscle. Your gaze wanders through the all too familiar room that lies in front of you in the dark. You know you are safe here. After all, you are inside a house, or rather in Tannyhill - in other words: there really is no better place in the entire Outer Banks to be when a severe thunderstorm is raging outside. And even though you also know very well that nothing will happen to you, you can't help but be afraid. Incredibly afraid.

Even as a child you were abnormally afraid of thunderstorms and lightning in general and apparently this fear has only deepened over the years, still accompanying you. Back then, your father always wanted to watch the lightning with you that bathed the sky in such a bright blue light, but you immediately broke into a crying fit that lasted for hours and did not get better. At least it gives you a peace of mind knowing you are not alone in today's storm.

Well, at least not entirely.

A soft snoring sounds - only audible with great effort due to the loud rain - from next to you and knowing that your boyfriend is right beside you, with you, calms you down a bit. Once another bang rings through the room, you slide fully under the heated covers to hide, bumping your legs into Rafe's accidentally, but he does not budge. This thunderstorm does not seem to bother him at all anyway.

Tears well up in your eyes and your body is already shaking slightly while so much fear pours through you, pumping through your veins at the thoughts of what could happen.

What if lightning strikes? And the lightning rod does not work?

Freaking out on the inside, you try to tame your bad thoughts and instead think about something positive, literally anything else than rain or storm or lightning. And when that does not work, you just try to focus on Rafe's regular breathing, blocking out the world around you. At first, this method actually works quite well and your heart rate drops, but unfortunately it only lasts until the next thunder rumbles over your head, the room turning bright as daylight for a few seconds.

This time, your whole body jerks up and you end up covering your ears with your hands, but even that does not calm you down now. More unconsciously than you want to, you cuddle up to your boyfriend, whose body radiates a pleasant warmth as you come closer. Rafe is on his stomach, one of his arms hanging over the edge of the bed while the other, which he used to hold your hand tightly when you fell asleep, is next to your pillow. You snuggle up against him carefully, trying not to wake him, although, deep down, you kind of hope for him to do so.

You know Rafe would want you to wake him up if you were feeling down or needed help. But you swore to yourself you would not wake him. He has had a busy week and once again had to endure a heavy, undeserved lecture from his father today. You spent the whole evening comforting him until he finally fell asleep in your arms, and so did you, although you must have missed the storm warning.

Your panic and fear of thunderstorms suddenly take the initiative without you being able to stop yourself. You need him.

"Rafe", you whisper softly and barely audible as you put your hand on his bare shoulder and shake him lightly. "Babe?"

No reaction and the storm continues to wreak havoc outside.

"Rafe? Babe, please wake up", you almost beg him, on the verge of crying now, and you are about to give up and just get through the night when he suddenly shows signs of stirring. His shoulders tense under your hand as he takes a deep breath until you shake him again. "Please."

Apparently he has finally noticed you and slowly turns to face you, running his hand through his already disheveled hair. He looks at you with tired, half-closed eyes, but you are not sure if he is actually awake.

"Hm? What's wrong, baby?”, comes out of his mouth softly, his voice hoarse and groasy from sleep as he runs his hand over his face, confused. "What time is it?"

"Rafe, I'm scared", you admit, and your words seem to flip a switch inside of him, instantly activating his protective instincts that overlook even his sleepiness.

"What? What's going on?”, he asks you, worried but still not quite sane, his mind still caught in a dream world. He narrows his eyes tightly so that he can even make you - or rather your outline - out in the dark room in front of him. Before you can explain why you woke him up in the dead of night, however, your entire body gives a violent start again as a loud rumble of thunder resounds directly overhead. After that, it does not take words for Rafe to understand what is going on.

"Are you serious?", Rafe chuckles lightly to himself, as if he can't believe this is the reason you robbed him of his precious sleep. His words hurt you deeply and make you realize that you really shouldn not have woken him up.

"I'm sorry, I-", you start to apologize, but are promptly interrupted by a lightning strike that was probably very close by. The loud bang makes the walls shake and the rain falling from the sky intensifies. You huddle in fear, your head down, clutching the covers tightly.

"Oh, come here", Rafe chuckles, pulling you into his arms, his warmth welcoming your tense body. He gently lays your head on his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and hug you tight, giving you the protection you so desperately sought. As he stares at the ceiling and you just wait for another shock to go through your body, he draws patterns on your back, which is still hidden under the covers, with the tips of his fingers. How you can still lie under the covers at these temperatures remains a mystery to him.

"You are trembling, darling. Are you cold?", Rafe asks you softly, pressing his lips against the top of your head, gently tugging you closer and readjusting the blanket on top of you.

With a slight shake of your head you deny this, although you are not even sure if it is true. Your body is so tenee and your nervous system on fire that you can't tell whether you are warm or cold right now. But what you do know is that Rafe's closeness and mental presence somehow makes it better. The storm outside is not getting better by any means, but your heartbeat slows down a bit now as you focus on the patterns Rafe is still drawing on your back.

His other hand wanders over your lower body and finally slips under your shirt, which is way to big for you as you borrowed it from him to sleep in. His hand splayed across your stomach feels warm and you close your eyes for a moment, until the next thunder rumbles and makes you flinch.

"Shh, calm down. I'm with you. Nothing can happen to you here", Rafe whispers to you carefully, kissing the top of your head again and again while you listen to his regular heartbeat. "Not in my arms anyway."

"I know but.. Please, if it is okay with you, just hold me like this until the storm has passed", you ask him, cuddling up to and squeezing him even tighter, putting one leg over his waist.

"Of course, Baby. You don't have to ask me", he smiles softly and also hugs you tighter so that you face the raging storm outside together, almost forgetting the loud thunder as you listen to each other's breathing until you finally drift off into a deep and well-deserved slumber.

[cybervesna]

One hundred-four degrees Fahrenheit

Type: One-shot (Dogtown Nights) Rating: Mature Relationship: Kurt Hansen/OC, Kurt Hansen/Wiosna Blazkowicz

Idk if someone's gonna read it, if so I hope you enjoy it.

Heavy smoke from his cigarette covered his view as he exhaled the substance from his lungs. Despite temporary blindness, his eyes were still focused on one place or rather a person. 

Right in front of him lies the object of his interest. Wires all over, allowing her to get lost in the depths of cyberspace. The netrunner most likely had no idea that she was being watched. Her boss was like an eagle preying on her defenseless body. 

But he doesn't want to hurt her, no. He's admiring and mesmerizing every inch of her. He's making sure that the movement of her cleavage caused by heavy breathing isn't out of order, and that the drops of sweat forming on her forehead evaporate as soon as they appear. 

He inhaled the deadly substance again and kept it in his lungs as he checked her vitals on his HUD. 

One hundred two degrees Fahrenheit. 

It wasn't alarming, yet a little too high for his liking. Two degrees more and an emergency cooling will freeze her. 

This time the smoke escaped through his nostrils, making him look like a dragon whose fire was responsible for the increased body temperature of his prey.

One hundred degrees Fahrenheit. 

Good, he thought. She either moved to lighter tasks or is about to dive out from the cybernetic void.

He observed her, carefully. The steady breathing was like a lullaby to his nerves. Calming, and reassuring nothing will happen, and he's just paranoid for having all the bad scenarios forming in his head.

One hundred four degrees Fahrenheit. 

***

It's hard to describe something that the human mind can't comprehend. Yet, somehow Wiosna could see everything in a simplified way, trying to make sense of the data around her. 

First was the darkness, and from it came light. No. The light was her. Or maybe she was the darkness? 

Lines of code disintegrated with every passing second, yet can she even measure time in such a place? And why is she staring right at herself? There are no mirrors in cyberspace. 

“Interesting. Emotions truly can be transferred into data.” 

She heard her own voice, but it wasn't her who said it. 

“You should vocalize your concerns.” Wiosna’s reflection insisted. 

“You already know what I'm going to say.” 

The vision fractionated into a glitchy matrix of data as it transformed itself into a red mist filling the void around the woman. There was something familiar about it, like an image she had seen before. The red mixed itself with the darkness in a way that resembled the northern lights. 

The entity inside her becomes stronger with every jump beyond the Blackwall. Grows like a parasite inside Wiosna's inner world. If it can take her form now, what else is it capable of doing? 

Being a menace to her for sure.

Wiosna felt how the rogue AI manipulated her code to cause some chaos. Nothing serious, just a few short circuits, and an overheat deamon. In Wiosna's opinion, it was meant to piss her off, rather than cause actual damage.

That's enough. Was the last thing echoing around them before the netrunner went back to the mortal realm. 

***

“Wiosna, for fucks sake, wake up!” Kurt screamed into Wiosna's face as he shook her shoulders. 

All the systems around them turned into an orchestra of alarms, loud enough that he didn't know if she could even hear him in this mess despite being inches away. 

Kurt held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. The drops of water on her face turned into frost because of emergency cooling. He knew that the purple shade of her skin was a result of preventing her from overheating, as most of the electronics in the room burned one by one. Regardless of all the logic, it planted in his head a scary question. 

What if she's already dead? Does life have any meaning without her?

He knows better than that. He's a soldier. There's no time for grieving in his life. 

Put yourself together, Hansen! 

Allowing himself to panic, even for a minute was unacceptable. But those intrusive thoughts were louder and louder in his head, as the mind tried to make a plan for every possible outcome of this situation.

Is that how Wiosna feels all the time?

Kurt remembered how Wiosna tried to describe to him what was in her head. Of course, he read all the reports on her state, but doing it in her own words felt more intimate. He wished she would describe him more. 

She has to, when she wakes up, right? 

His hands cupped her face and he took a moment to look at her once more. The only thing in the world that he cares more about than himself. She can't be dead. Kurt gently kissed her forehead and felt how his warm lips melted the frost it touched. 

“Hm... That made me warm inside.” 

He wasn't sure if he heard it, or if it was just his imagination. Kurt moved his head to look at Wiosna again. Her blue eyes were wide open, staring at him with sparkles between the ocean of blue. And of course a smirk on her face.

This fucking woman…

“I see you missed m-” 

But Wiosna never finished whatever she wanted to say, as Kurt's lips silenced her. At least for a second until she pulled him away. 

“Fuu! You just smoked!” She screamed in disgust. 

“You almost fucking died!” 

“What? I had everything under control.” 

Kurt dropped her face as relief on his face disappeared. 

“Control? Where? Where was your fucking control when your body hit one hundred six degrees!” 

“Please, like it's the first time…” Wiosna waved her hand as if she was casting a spell that silenced all the alarms.

Kurt observed as she sat on her chair and pulled out the plug from her deep dive port. He felt anger build up inside of him, yet at the same time, he couldn't be angry at her. 

“Do I mommy you whenever you go out for a mission? You think I don't worry you will get a bullet to the head? I do, but I'm not stopping you from doing your job. So don't stop me from doing mine.” 

“This is different.” He growled. 

“How so?” 

“I can't fucking protect you there.” Kurt's voice became deeper. Every other Bargest soldier would start praying for their life at the sound of it.

But Wiosna instead just rolled her eyes at him. “So you don't trust me that I can take care of myself?” 

“The fuck? I didn't say that!” Kurt touched the bridge of his nose as he thought about how to explain what he meant. The Colonel reached for the hand of his lover. It was still cold, as if she spent this whole time walking through Siberian snow without gloves. “I guess, I meant that three minutes ago I was freaking out, you're dead and all I could do was just hold your body. So I started to consider if I should kill myself too… It felt like I failed you.” 

Kurt hated that. Those moments of weakness when emotions take over logic. He hated how it only happened with her. Wiosna made him soft. She made him weak. And yet… He never felt better. Never felt stronger than with her by his side. 

He stared into her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the emotions behind them. But instead of that, he felt as her hand gently left his grasp. His eyes instantly looked at the place where it left a freezing sensation on his cyberware that he already missed. But he felt it again, this time on his cheek, as her palm guided Kurt to look at her once more. 

Nothing. Wiosna's emotions were encrypted better than the data she worked with. 

Kurt leaned into her touch, kissing the inside of her palm without breaking eye contact. It's when he noticed something. Wiosna's brows slightly went up, and her lips parted as a result of his action. And before he could do anything more, her cold lips were glued to his. 

Wiosna always kissed him as her life depended on it. Kurt learned by now, that maybe the face doesn't show much, but her kisses are a testimony of everything she feels. A language of passion, that she calls “talking without words”. He had to admit, as many lovers as he had, no one saw it that way. But he gets it. Wiosna's kisses are to die for. 

Even now freezing as she is, Wiosna spreads her fire on Kurt, burning everything on its way. And he doesn't want to fight it. Like flames dancing around each other, consuming everything on their way until there's no air. 

“You just complained I smoked!” Kurt gasped in between his heavy breaths. 

“Don't fucking remind me and enjoy this.” 

[idungoofed]

A Spaceman In My Backyard - Chapter 1

A/N: So, I can't lie the fact that I have actually written a second part to one of my fics is mind blowing to me. I didn't think it was possible, but I got the good feels about this one - and chapter two is already half way through and more ideas are coming! Bear with me while I get into this, it might be a little show at first but I promise some fun, sweet domestic fluff of Din being on Earth will be coming! But for now... enjoy! ❤️

Summary: It’s happening - Cate and Din are going to have their first meeting!! While Cates mind if melting at meeting someone from a different galaxy, and Din try’s to remain distantly stoic after meeting this strange woman, both tentatively wondering if they can trust the other.

Warnings: Always 18+. Anxiety, depression, self medication through alcohol, set in a global pandemic, minor violence although justified. First person, Dins on Earth so of course canon divergent.

Word count: 4300+

Prologue

Cate

I wake up - or rather gain consciousness, with my face buried in a lumpy sofa cushion, my long mousy brown hair splayed out around me, peeling my tongue off the roof of my mouth—drier than a desert.

I open my bleary, blood shot hazel eyes and reach for where I knew drunk me would have put a bottle of water the night before. I’d gotten painfully efficient at this routine after a year of a global lockdown, which was getting black out drunk and playing video games on the old consoles from my teenage years I’d found in the attic.

Last night's choice was tequila and Resident Evil 4, and I only knew that because of the shot glasses and limes that littered the coffee table and the ‘You Are Dead’ splashed across the tv screen in red.

It was a slow progression into this state of living, but when you had little to do or places to visit, and the only form of company being the local Welsh wildlife, it did things to a person.

I grab the bottle of water from my still horizontal position, my head throbbing with the rumblings of a hangover, and so I grab the painkillers next to them, thanking drunk me again and swig those back too. The rumble in my skull only gets louder—until I realise it’s not in my head at all. It’s coming from the sky.

I squint toward the window across the room as the sound turns into a roar of some kind of aircraft as it flies overhead. It’s still early – the sun hadn’t come up over the mountains yet, and I catch a silhouetted glimpse of the craft through the small living room window.

It had been flying low as I expected from the noise that rattled my brains, and it was a bulky, its shape odd for any planes or jets that’s I knew of, but then again, what did I know about aircrafts? Absolutely nothing, that’s what.

It was quiet again and I lie back down, not being bothered about moving off the sofa to my bed; I found I was sleeping better here recently anyway. I still had a few hours till it got fully light, and then the sun had to get up from behind the mountains to shine into the room. I fall asleep quickly again, barely giving the strange plane a second thought.

I wake much later, my headache, now just a dull ache behind my eyes as I kick off the blanket that had tangled around my legs. The room was hot, the sun now high, its midday rays beat in through the window, highlighting its grubbiness.

I sit up gingerly, in case the full throb of my headache returns, and when it doesn’t, I head into the kitchen. Flicking on the kettle and preparing a coffee, before clearing the kitchen sides of last night’s remnants of my evening, trying not to gag as I wipe away spilled tequila, still feeling a little rough around the edges as we approach midday.

I potter about my home, refuelling on buttery toast as the temperature of the early June day continues to climb, wondering what I could do with my day.

It was the first of what would be a rare heatwave in Wales, although the air around the mountains usually carried a welcome cool breeze, and I looked over at my small travel easel that currently held my most recent painting. It was an expressionist landscape of the mountains, the perspective taken from the view at the top end of the land that surrounds my property.

My use of colour is generous, the grass lands swirled with greens, while deep purples add depth while a pinks and cobalt pick out highlights, that’s cut with the glinting suggestion of the stream. The sky a roiling mass of open-space and clouds that reflect the grass sea below, and the mountains looming in jagged marks.

At least that’s what I saw in my head when I see the finished piece, and it still needed a fair amount of work, and as the warmth of the sun come through the into the kitchen, where I stand, its rays warming my sallow skin, I decided today would be the day I finished it.

An hour later and I was showered and dressed in clothes to suit the sunny weather: a blue and green oversized tie-dye t-shirt, a pair of jean shorts, and the type of sandals dads own. I step out the back kitchen door, my travel easel and supplies in one hand, my half-finished painting in the other, and a flask of iced coffee tucked under an arm.

I ignore the long grass swaying and tickling the backs of my calves, crossing the empty field that had only a year ago been filled up with different campers and tents in neat pitches, and climb up the steep stone steps that led to a wooded path that ran against the flowing waters of the wide stream that rushed down from the mountains further up.

The path was over grown with the lack of foot traffic it saw in the last year of the lockdown, something that I’d tried to prevent in the early days when everyone still thought the virus would pass quickly, but as time went on I’d stopped bothering - it was more hassle than it was worth when it was only me here, and there was no hope the world would go back to normal soon.

I reached the top of the steep incline, continuing to follow against the stream that ambled through the woods beside me, till it suddenly cuts across the path and around smooth jutting rocks I use as stepping stones, reaching the point where the dirt path forks.

Going left would lead to the rocky, swaying grass lands at the base of the mountain range, while the right leads on to a cope of trees that holds a hidden clearing, once popular with my guests, now surely overgrown.

The day was even hotter than I originally thought, the sky burned clear of clouds, and as I start the turn left to the grass lands, something to my right glints from the corner of my eyes, as if the sun light was reflecting off metal.

I stop, the thought striking me as odd; the only thing in that clearing now would be overgrown grass, wild flowers and weeds. But as I turn to look at the line of trees that surrounded the clearing, slowly moving my head back and forth, I could definitely see the glint of reflective sunlight flickering between the branches, and through curiosity or pure stupidity I go and see what is creating that light.

Making my way up the overgrown path that leads to the small, secluded clearing, and as I walked closer, my brain barely able to process that as the trees thinned, there was suddenly a large oddly shaped metal structure where there wasn’t meant to be one.

And as I step around the last tree entering the clearing that was in bloom with wildflowers, I stop dead in my tracks and take in the… what could I even call it?

It wasn’t a plane, but some kind of aircraft, and it looked like it was straight out of a sci-fi movie. I blink at it, unable to believe my own eyes as I stare as the hulking hunk of metal that stood in stark contrast to its natural surroundings.

The uncanniness of the unmanned craft squatting in the clearing, that before the pandemic was a popular picnicking spot with my guests, sent a shiver of warning down my spine. I eye the machine that is looking more and more like an actual spaceship now. Surely it wasn’t real, but if that was the case how did it get here?

The grass and flowers around the craft was undisturbed, as if it was just placed there, and all a sudden the memory of when I woke this morning and heard the rumble of an aircraft flying overhead comes back to me.

My stomach twists, and I take a step back as my next thought was however this thing got here, someone would have had to have put it here, and whoever it belonged to, I suddenly didn’t fancy meeting them.

I turn quickly, eyes lingering on the ship as I hurry away, but before I can take more than a few steps I smack into something solid, my jaw and body meets a wall of metal, so unforgiving that I just bounce off, sending my painting supplies and flask flying.

But before I can fall far hands grip my upper arms, pulling me upright, the shock of suddenly being grabbed causing me to whip my head back around and come face to face with an emotionless, T-shaped black visor, set in a metal helmet that sharply dipped and curved at the cheeks.

I couldn’t see them under the helmet, but the strangers eyes were wide, he’d only been there for a moment, his footsteps having faltered after he returned after a quick scout of the area.

He hadn’t expected to see a woman in strange brightly coloured clothing that looked multiple sizes too big, staring up at his ship, and as I turned, eyes not yet upon him, for the first time in a long time, he froze. That was until my sudden proximity made him react without thinking.

I falter for only a moment, stunned at what I was looking at, or who rather, before my confused expression turns into one of terror.

“Let me go!” I shout, thrashing in his grip, but it only causes the masked stranger to hang on tighter, his gloves fingers biting into the flesh of my arms.

“Don’t - I’m not going to hurt-“

I don’t let him finish as my fight response kicks in considering my initial flight failed, and I bring my knee hard up into his groin, and he grunts and pitches forward. He hadn’t expected me to react so quick, my move faster than most bounties.

I stumble back, falling over my feet, my hands slapping hard on the dry ground, but I ignore the sting and drag myself up, throwing myself past him, but before I can break the tree line, he calls from behind me.

“Wait!”

What was it that made me stop then? Curiosity? Idiocy? Slight guilt at the pain that laced the word? I couldn’t say for sure, but I found my steps faltering.

The armoured person watches as I hesitantly turn back towards him, one of his hands outstretched towards me, the other he braces on his knee, supposedly keeping him upright, and I can’t but feel slightly pleased that I seemed to have hit my target as he still recovered.

He slowly straightens, raising his hands in a calming gesture, he takes a small step towards me, and he sees me track the movement.

“Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

His gravelly voice comes out soothing, but the scene in front of me is so insane, my heart is beating out my chest and I’m sure my legs are visibly shaking from the adrenaline still coursing through my body.

“I… who the hell are you?!” I demand, ignoring his reassurances.

“I’m…” He knew he would have to play this carefully, he didn’t want to scare me any more than he could clearly see I was, and he really didn’t want to find somewhere else to land the Crest.

The location was currently perfect, having the mountains surrounding the back of the land and the old track road Din had spotted from above mean only one way in, meaning it was remote, but close enough to civilisation if he needed supplies… although if everyone was going to react the way I currently was then that might prove difficult.

“My names Din Djarin.”

I blink at him, a unique name for a unique situation, the alliteration playing over in my mind for a moment before I shake myself; I couldn’t let the fact that he looked like he could be human under all the armour and miraculously speaking English distract me from the one fact - this guy didn’t look like he was from here, and by that I didn’t mean Wales, I meant Earth.

As if the giant space ship wasn’t enough of a hint!!

While another voice in my head screamed that all those reasons were also ridiculous and the likely hood that this was indeed someone from outer space was growing. This whole time I’m looking at him, eyes wide in complete disbelief and shock, my mouth gapping like a fish, completely speechless.

Din sees my expression of incredulity, and if the guy in the casino was right and it really is just humans and the local wildlife on this small planet, and had no contact to life outside their atmosphere, he could understand somewhat why I’m looking at him like my mind has just been blown wide open by the mere sight of him.

“I’m a human.” he says carefully, hoping that fact would help sooth me, while deciding to start with the basics, although only giving up the essentials. “I’m from another galaxy, I’m not here to harm you or anyone…” He says, as I just keep looking at him, processing, waiting for him to go on.

“I travelled here on my ship… I’m alone, there’s no one else with me.”My shoulders relax a fragment hearing this at least, I didn’t know how I would react to tentacles suddenly bursting out from under that helmet.

“And… why are you here?” I eye what looked like bullets strapped to his chest and other hidden weapons on his body.

“I… just wanted a break” Din knew it was a lame answer, but divulging the details of why he would travel such a distance to a stranger wasn’t something that appealed to him.

“From what?” I frown.

Did he just sound… sad?

“…Life.” Din shrugs, he can see I’m not totally buying his blasé answers, as my one of my brows raises and I cross my arms, if anything giving more attitude than the previous fear, and I’m not shouting anymore, which was a plus. “Look, I can see that this is a lot to take in, but I’m not here to hurt you.”

I’m still looking at him not completely trustfully. “And there’s not more of you coming?” I ask, gesturing at him with one hand, and I hear a small, bitter puff of air come from his helmet.

“I highly doubt that.” Din says and looks at me to see how my eyebrows we’re crinkled together in a confused frown. “No. No one’s coming. I promise”

His tone is meant to be reassuring, and sure enough, after a moment or two, it seems to work as my arms uncross, dropping to my sides and I let out of a long breath and nod.

I didn’t fully trust him yet – who goes on a break from life to a different galaxy?!

Nonetheless, I wanted to believe what he’d said so far. This was crazy, yet… I couldn’t deny that I had dreamed of something like this happening. I loved my sci-fi and fantasy novels and dreaming of different worlds that were anywhere else but my own, something that had happened more and more often over the last year.

“How… long are you staying?” The question feeling weirdly familiar from asking guests the same thing for years.

Din realises, in that moment he wasn’t exactly sure. The question catching him off guard, unsure what to say. He takes a hand, grabbing the back of his neck in an awkward gesture – something he did in these rare moments.

He was oddly expressive, even with the helmet on, which judging by the way he carried himself, wasn’t coming off any time soon, and I can tell he’s been wrong footed by my question.

“You don’t know…?”

The way I’m looking at Din makes his face heat. No, he hadn’t thought about how long he was going to stay; he just wanted to get away. However, now he has, he can see how stupid it sounds that he hadn’t taken that into consideration, and thinking on it he can’t fly much further if he was to ever return to his own galaxy meaning he needed me to trust him and let him stay here.

“I was just looking for some… time to myself for a while…” He says, while his mind works on his next steps. It had been several days on the ship before he had found Earth and although he’d had enough fuel for the initial trip, he’d had to start rationing his food and water supplies, and if he was to stay here, he needed a way to get more.

“I don’t know this planet…” He starts again carefully, not liking to ask for help from a stranger, “and I’ve been travelling for several days and I’m in need of supplies, mainly water and food. By your reaction to me so far, I’d rather not make it known to other humans I’m here… I can trade for them: repairs, tech. Doubt you take credits here.”

I stare at him blankly for a second, and it takes me a few moments to catch up with what he’s asking as he changes direction, and I shake my head assuming he means money. Besides whatever these credits are they would be no use here, and I didn’t want that kind of a deal.

“No, we don’t use credits here. What I want is answers. I’ll bring whatever supplies you need, but you need to tell me why you’re here – really why.” I clench my fists to ground me, hoping that my changing tact would make him more willing to expand on his plans for being here. Or at least respect me for trying. I lock my eyes onto his black visor. “None of this ‘life’ crap, and then we’ll see if I’ll let you stay - this is my land after all.” I’m a little surprised at myself for being ballsy enough to try bargain with this heavily weaponed and armoured man, usually it was only reserved at customers who were being Karens.

Even so, if I was going to have a stranger and his ship from outer space a stone’s throw from my home, I needed to know a little more about him. That and he couldn’t just park his ship and set up shop on my land -what if someone flew a drone over or something?!

Din’s helmet tilts, he wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, let alone expected it from me after my earlier reaction to him. He shifts his weight as I call him out on his deflections, but finds he respects me for it, seeing something strong and fiery in my eyes.

He couldn’t deny it, he owed me some answers, although it worries him slightly that what he tells me will make me want him to go. He would accept it, not wanting trouble and would just have to hope there was somewhere else inconspicuous and close by he could land the crest in. Worst case he’d be seeing his own galaxy a lot sooner than expected.

“Deal.” He says, his voice rough.

I wasn’t expecting that. “Really?” I ask, then hurriedly accept before he changes his mind. “Okay, deal… but there are things you need to know about this planet too, before you decide to stick around.” I say, wincing at the slight ominous tone to that statement, blurting the words out, suddenly remembering the virus that I’d somehow forgotten with Dins arrival.

I get a feeling of disappointment pang in my stomach, when I think about him probably deciding to leave because of it. Which I don’t know quite know what to think of. I’d just basically threatened him with kicking him off my land and now I was feeling conflicted about potentially seeing him go… What was wrong with me??

Under his helmet Din frowns, wondering what that could mean, but decides to wait for me to come back. Feeling like I’ll be more ready to talk then, and not wanting to push me, he needed me on side right now. “Okay,” He says, “You can tell me when you come back then.”

I nod, “Alright then… I’ll be right back.” My mouth hitching in a small smile as I turn to leave. Surprised again at his agreement, I thought this guy was going to be way harder to crack. Maybe I did overreact earlier. He doesn’t seem so bad right now…

I get about halfway towards the tree line when I turn back to see him watching me still.

“My name’s Cate, by the way.” My mouth pulls into a small but genuine smile, with a hint of sheepishness. “Sorry about… hitting you…* I grimace-smile, and shrug. “Welcome to Earth I guess.”

Then turning back again I head into the trees before he can say anything else, but I’m sure I hear a gruff chuckle from behind me, still feeling that visor and the eyes below on me as I disappear between the trees.

Din

He hadn’t meant to laugh then, but her guilty smile that softened her face looked almost sweet, combined with her apologetic words had simply surprised it out of him, causing him to be taken off guard by her – twice already, a rare act to achieve.

He watches as Cate disappears between the trees, the sound of her footsteps rusting through the undergrowth, the occasional snaps of twigs fading away.

After a moment Din realises the smile that had unexpectedly grown under his helmet was still there, and he clears his throat, recovering his usual stoic expression under it and looks around the clearing.

He sees the scattered painting equipment that had burst open as it flew from her hands in her panic at seeing him, which wasn’t surprising, and he hoped her leaving them here wasn’t a sign she wouldn’t be back. However, he remembers her face when she proposed the deal – she’d meant it, and although a bit wary still, she seems more so driven now, not fleeing.

He was used to people fearing him. But what he didn’t expect was how even though she was clearly terrified at first, she still stood her ground and even reacted fast enough to get a hit in, which he still felt as a dull lingering ache.

Even so, he couldn’t help but be slightly impressed by her instincts when in a stressful situation, as well as how as sharp she’d been with her words, and didn’t hesitate to call him out when he tried to avoid her questions. Instead, proposing a deal to help him in exchange for information. She had guts that was for sure.

She’ll be gone a while, assuming the lone cottage further down the stream he’d seen before landing was hers. He walks over to the canvas lying face down in the mix of grasses and flowers that luckily cushioned its fall, and crouches to pick it up.

He turns it over and studies the landscape, the style unfamiliar to him, but he takes a moment to appreciate the work and the liberal use of colour and strong brush strokes, noting the mountains and grass land as the very same he saw before landing.

He lays it down carefully and collects the wooden case that had suffered a busted hinge, which he fixes as best he can, and gathers the paints and brushes putting them inside, and sets it next to the painting.

Finally collecting the flask that was leaking from the cap, rich and earthy – caff, he recognised, although not expecting it to be ice cold he screws the lid tight again and paces it upright on the case.

He finishes the small task, the air of lingering tension in the clearing now having dissipated at focusing on doing something, but now he was alone again it feels almost too quiet. He was sure if he didn’t have the helmet on then she would have seen disbelief staring straight back at her.

He couldn’t quite believe what he’d done either; no one knew he was here, and although he’d met a helpful somebody already, which he hadn’t expected, he definitely felt alone out here. The thought causing an unwelcome pang in his chest, his breathing hitching slightly as he struggles to drive his thoughts away from what he left behind by coming here – Grogu.

He inhales deeply through his nose, steadying himself for a moment, reminding himself that his foundling is where he was meant to be, and no matter where he was wouldn’t change that.

Din straightens, turning his thoughts instead to potential challenges he faced now.

He needed Cate to trust him, but he warred with the foreign idea of giving up information to a stranger, especially not knowing whether divulging details of why he had come to this secluded planet would help the conflict he saw in her eyes on whether to let him stay or not.

He felt a flicker of guilt at the chaos his arrival caused her but needed to decide how much he was willing to give up on himself, and it wasn’t because he didn’t trust her; it was because he didn’t want to scare her.

Yet it is her land after all, and he owed her this after intruding on her life, demanding trust with not much else to give back, and he concludes that whatever he says, he will not lie to her.

A gentle breeze rustles the trees framing the clearing, bringing with it fresh mountain air, although the Mandalorian only gets a filtered version of it, and he turns back to his ship and waits for her return.

Thank you for reading! 💕 Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

[philaet0s]

Celebrity/Social Media AU - Part 7

Previous Part (Part 6)

Next Part (Part 8)

I wasn’t planning on posting the bits that weren’t on twitter/texting but I also didn’t expect anyone would actually read that AU here! So I *am* posting some of the POVs aha

Here’s one :) Just under the cut :)

Simon

“Your stupid social media addiction ruined my surprise,” Baz mumbles as I crush him into a hug.

“You came home for my birthday,” I murmur, more moved than I probably should be. I can feel tear burning in my eyes.

I’ve only seen him on Facetime for months. I’m allowed to be a little emotional.

“Of course I did. You really thought I wouldn’t?”

I shrug. “You’re so busy with your tour…”

“Not busy enough to miss your birthday, love.”

Gently, he strokes the side of my face with the back of his fingers.

I hold him a little tighter.

“I’m glad you came. I missed you so much. This is getting harder and harder.”

“Yes, I feel that way too… During the European leg of the tour, I could fly you out on the weekends if you like.”

I shake my head, then bury it against Baz’s shoulder. He smells like sweat. Maybe I could draw him a bath.

“Nah. I’d feel bad taking a plane every weekend. But I’ll come when you play in London. As always.”

…

He’s only here for two nights. His first night back home isn’t very thrilling.

I do draw him a bath, while he sits on the couch and relaxes. I turn on the hanging lights over the bathroom counter, which cast a warm, orange glow on the room rather than the harsh, white ceiling lamp. A bit of soft lighting will probably feel better on his eyes. I noticed that he kept his sunglasses inside. He never loved the aggressively bright and fast-changing lights required to offer his audience a good show at his concerts.

I even light a bunch of candles, the ones that smell like clean clothes –Baz’s favourite, for some reason.

I check the water temperature, which is too hot for me so perfect for Baz.

The room looks nice, smells nice, and the water should feel nice.

I head back to the living room. He still hasn’t taken his sunglasses off, and if I had to guess, I’d say he also closed his eyes, but he’s not asleep. He reaches out blindly, knowing I’ll take the hand he’s holding out for me. I kiss his knuckles.

“Your bath is ready, darling.”

His lips quirk up in a smile. “Hm, I love it when you call me darling.”

“I know.” I tug on his hand gently. “Come on, get up.”

“My body weighs a ton, give me a minute.”

“I can help you up if you like,” I say, as I move my hand to have a better grip on him.

I pull him towards me when he pushes himself up, but one of us uses too much strength and he ends up pressed against my chest. My arms automatically close around him.

“This is nice,” he murmurs.

“Very nice. But so will be your bath. At this rate, the water is going to be cold before you get there,” I say, amusement in my voice.

“The water’s probably scalding. It’ll be fine. Give me a hug.”

Well, I can’t say no to that, can I?”

The hug lasts much longer than it needs to. I have time to trace the familiar lines of his body with my hands, from the dip at his lower back to the curve of his shoulders; with my lips, from the crooked part of his nose to the angle of his jaw. His body weight rests almost entirely on me, it’s soothing. How good it feels to feel so much of him after only seeing him on a phone screen for weeks and weeks.

“Ok, bathtime now,” he whispers, while making no effort to move away from me.

Since I’m the brave one in this relationship, I step back and turn around. I take one of his hands in mine and lead him to the bathroom.

I help him out of his clothes, revelling in the sight of more and more brown skin. The last item I take off is his sunglasses. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his eyelids cover about half of his irises.

“You look tired.”

“Tour. Jet lag,” he answers, flatly.

I stroke his arms. “Love, you really shouldn’t have come if it’s too hard on you.”

“Like hell. I wasn’t going to miss your birthday. I’m glad I came. I just… I might not be a lot of fun tonight. We’re definitely not going out tonight,” he says, before he gets in the tub.

He lets out a long, pleased sigh when his body is fully submerged in the hot water. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the edge of the tub.

“I had no expectation of going out, don’t worry.”

“Are you going to stay with me while I take a bath?” he asks, half-teasingly, half-serious.

“No. But I was thinking I could wash your hair.”

“Hm, that’s a nice offer. You remember which bottle is shampoo and which bottle is conditioner?”

I don’t dignify those words with an answer.

I take both bottles from the cabinets where Baz’s things are stored away while he’s not home and bring them by the tub. I kneel behind the part of the tub where Baz’s head is, open the shampoo, and pour some on his hair. I massage his scalp, loving the little sounds he makes. Knowing I make him feel good, even in such a small way, fills my chest with warmth.

God, it’s been a while since I’ve properly had a chance to take care of him.

[munofmanyminds]

A CLOSED starter for @ardentghcst ft. SEBASTIAN WARD & MAYA PRESCOTT

Morning had arrived like it did every day, but no birdsong reached the lower levels of the house. There were no cracks for sunrise to peek through. Nothing but the clock mounted on the wall of the hallway gave any indication of the passage of time down here. It ticked away valiantly, like it didn't even know that it fought a losing battle, straining to make time matter in a place where it had long ago ceased to.

Sebastian stood outside her door. He hadn't heard a single sound from within that room for nearly ten hours. Not since the last jagged sob had slipped into silence and he'd heard the final creak of the mattress as her weight shifted and she'd gone still. It had been like that all night; a stillness in the wake of devastation. As he unlocked the door, the bolt slid free without protest, hinges making no sound as he pushed it open. She was lying on her side, exactly where he'd last imagined her, facing the wall, knees drawn up, hair across her face in tangles. The bandages on her hands were frayed from the night before, but mostly in tact, it seemed. Her torso rose and fell in a slow, shallow rhythm; the only real evidence that she was still alive.

She was a husk now, a hollow shell, emptied of pride, rage and fire; it had burned itself out and left her behind, wet and ash-covered. All that remained was waiting to see what rose from the ruin, which meant she was finally ready - just as expected.

He carried a tray with him as he stepped inside. On it were two slices of toasted bread, an apple cut into measured slices, a cup of yoghurt, a bottle of room temperature water, and a thermos of hot water with lemon. No silverware; nothing sharp - nothing she could use to lash out. As he knelt down, he placed the tray gently on the floor next to her mattress, quiet for a moment longer. He unscrewed the top of the thermos, letting steam waft upward, curling in the cold air. Then he lingered for a moment, calm and quiet, far enough away that his presence was less of an invasion and more a... quiet existence - just there, in the room with her.

"You need to eat," he finally said, the softness in his voice like silk draping over her skin. Words delivered as fact, offered like a law of nature - rather than a command.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | ix

Broken hearts and bruised feelings make for an ugly pairing.

Read part eight here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 16.4K

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it), fingering, oral (m&f receiving), exhibitionism, public sex, impact play, spit play, temperature play, dom/sub, touch of bratty sub, praise, degradation, soft sex, angst, fighting, mentions of alcoholism/alcoholic tendencies, drinking, swearing, crying, v emotional chapter, sorry if i miss any!

heres chapter nine a little early, just cause I feel so bad for being horrible at posting 😁 also I am living for the speculation on the story; you all have very intriguing ideas to share. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (cause there’s def lots, this is incredibly lightly edited)

Music boomed in your ears and your chest burned with heat from your last shot. Dylan and Riley were fighting against their disgust for the tequila, nursing a lime wedge in their mouths as their eyes watered with regret. You placed your own wedge in the shot glass, barely wincing as the alcohol moved to your stomach. You had become accustomed to the sensation, and it was no different than the scratch of cigarette smoke on the back of your throat. If anything, the otherworldly ache from substance was much easier to digest than the permanent pain that settled in your heart. But, to you, another night of drowning out the sorrow was infinitely better than speaking the trouble into existence, even if you knew you would wake up feeling worse than the morning before.

Days had passed since your first show in Atlanta. It had gone without a hitch; the only thing you wished to change was the length of time you were allowed to spend on stage. Performing was your new purpose, your driving force for getting out of bed and surviving the day. It was something you had been searching for since you moved to Nashville, and you had finally found the feeling outside of another human being. The world seemed perfect if you were an outsider looking in, but perfect was subject, and your life was far from it. You had your dream job, more money than you ever dreamed of as a child, and more love pouring in than ever before, but you were still miserable. So miserable that drinking away the day served as more comfort than sobriety, lately.

Gold Dust Woman had become you; the name fitting better than it ever had. Elusive and empty, always searching for a thrill in a bottle, and seemingly unable to find a purpose. You felt like you were walking aimlessly, showing up to venues solely for the sake of entertaining. When the hotel doors closed and you found yourself alone again, any sense of self was gone without a trace. Mirrors had become the enemy, always seeming to showcase the emptiness you held behind your eyes, taunting you with unfamiliarities that you did not have the energy to change. You were lost within the mess of the rockstar lifestyle, and the blame was only on you.

You had turned volatile and distant, a shell of who you used to be. Unfortunately, it was not the pressure of the music industry, nor the lack of rules and enhanced freedom that you had gained. In truth, that was very low on your list of reasons for feeling so poorly. The reality was that your dance with the devil had finally caught up to you. The brothers had moved in for the kill, successful in their strike. Entertaining love from both of them had always been tiresome, but now you were exhausted. It was not loving them that was difficult, rather the fact that you loved them so much, and so equally. Now, there was no chance of escaping them, even just for a moment. You lived with them, travelled with them, and worked with them every minute of the day. Most of the time, your closed hotel door room did not even stop them from invading your life.

Sam was persistent, always around in attempt to win your heart for good. Jake, on the other hand, was absent once more. This separation was not at his hands, though. You had refused any further contact after the debacle of the nameless bimbo at the Atlanta venue. You had no way to express it, but the pain you were holding from that interaction was debilitating, and it was only worsened when you looked at him. You understood that his intent was to hurt you in the same way he was hurting, but he struck nerves that you didn’t even realize existed. You weren’t official with either boy, but had always been under the pretence of at least being committed. Perhaps your jealousy and anger was misplaced, but even if it was, it was still very present in your mind.

You were certain he knew the affect of his actions, and you were sure he felt remorseful about it. However, you had never allowed him the chance to express his apologies even if he did want to make amends. Every conversation he initiated was quickly shot down, every touch was evaded, and every longing glance was not returned. You tried to appear uncaring, but the truth was you cared too much. You weren’t sure if this stood for the ending of your relationship with Jake, but it was certainly a bump in the road that threw you violently off course.

Your hurt lied within the fact that Jake and Sam both knew the truth about the situation; they continued to try and win you over while knowing that you were seeing both of them at the same time. You, however, were not under the impression that the brothers would be entertaining anyone else. If Jake had flirted with another girl in good faith, maybe you would have been more likely to forgive and forget. Instead, he only used the woman to bother you. She was a weapon meant to shatter your ego, and it did exactly that. His childish endeavour was harmless in theory, mostly because you knew he did not take her home that night. Even if he did spend the entire evening immersed in her, it ended as soon as you both walked out of the door of the venue. The issue was not the innocent flirting; it was the fact he had done it solely to hurt you, and hurt you he did.

Seeing him entertaining advances from another person reminded you of where you sat all those months ago, pining after Sam while he had girls tripping over themselves to get his attention. It put you directly back into the state you were in when you were desperate for Sam’s attention, crying and hurting every night over someone who refused to acknowledge your existence in any way other than friendly. It made you feel small, insignificant and shattered your entire self worth. Perhaps he was trying to make you see things through his eyes, but he had no idea it would burn you as bad as it truly did. Being second to someone else was normal for you, but having gone so long without feeling that way, you seemed to have forgotten how much it sucked. Outwardly, you were furious, but deep down, all of the anger was nothing short of an act to cover the sound of your own breaking heart.

You missed him terribly, but not enough to give in so easily. You were determined to reach a lesson, and so far it had been working well. Although both of you were nearly unbearable to be around, the message was definitely portrayed in the way you intended, and that was enough to keep you in moderately good spirits. “Another one, please.” You told the bartender, closing your eyes for a moment to regain your senses. Thinking about Jake for too long seemed to heighten your blood pressure and prompt a migraine. You loved him, but in the same way a dog stays loyal to the owner who inflicts pain on it. You had one hell of a knack for self punishment, and you almost seemed desperate to be hurt by him. Instead of cutting it off completely, you continued to string each other along in the most painful way possible.

Loving him from a distance was excruciating, but loving him fully was even worse. Your feelings for Jake were so intense that it was hard to comprehend, but you seemed to be angry at each other more than you were happy with each other. You couldn’t help but appreciate how simple things had been with Sam, and even when you were annoyed with each other, it never seemed quite as catastrophic. Comparing the two brothers in any sense was something you had sworn not to do, but at the end of each day that passed, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep them separate.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He said, placing the shot in front of you. The term of endearment sent a shiver down your spine, immediately reminding you of the boy who you were desperate to forget about. He was an addiction, one that you knew was killing you, but you couldn’t figure out how to give him up. It was selfish, but on the list of sins you had committed over the course of your relationships with the boys, greed one of the lesser injustices.

“Thank you,” you placed the cool glass to your lips, tilting your head back and swallowing the liquid. Without as much as a wince, you sat the glass back on the table and popped the lime in your mouth to satiate the burn. “Can I get a double rum and coke, too?” You had been drinking since before the show, but you were yet to feel even a buzz. You opted to pick up the pace, hoping if it wouldn’t wipe your memory clean, it would at least lull you to sleep later.

“Do you think I’m strong enough to carry you home?” Dylan asked, giving you an incredulous look at the sound of your order.

“No, but it would be funny to watch you try.” You chuckled, slipping your fingers around your drink and bringing the straw to your lips.

“You’ve been drinking since this morning. How are you still standing?” Riley asked, joining the conversation.

“Talent.” You smiled, looking to the booth that held the rest of your company. “I’m going to play pool.” You announced, not waiting for them to follow before moving towards the crowded area. You picked a cue off the wall, scanning the tables in hopes of finding a group that was looking for an extra. Better yet, your gaze landed upon a vacant table that was up for grabs. You moved towards it, setting your drink on the corner and arranging the balls.

You shot the cue ball, breaking the rack of the other balls. They scattered across the green surface of the table, one landing in the corner pocket and the rest slowing to a stop before they could reach.

You made a move to line up another shot, focusing on the ball and sinking it effortlessly. You straightened up, scanning for your next target, when you felt a body present itself at the end of the table. “Nice shot,” without any deeper analysis, you could tell that the compliment was laced with deeper meaning. The conversation starter was not because of your drunken talent, rather because he was desperate for you to speak to him. You did not acknowledge him, opting to brush past him and shoot at another ball. At your rejection, you thought he might head back to the booth to sulk, but you were never lucky, especially when it came to Jake. “I’d love to join. You know, if you don’t want to keep playing yourself.” He offered.

You made a move back to your drink, refusing to even look him in the eye. Instead, you shot another ball into a corner pocket, the slam of the cue against the ball exaggerating your feeling of distaste for his company. He watched, unsure of what to say to make things better. He knew he had done wrong, and it was haunting him. His moment of gratification from your shock was not worth losing you for good, and if he could take back the pain he caused, he would without hesitation. Despite his regret, he was beginning to get fed up with your lack of communication. His hot-headed nature was quickly surfacing, and he could only keep his composure for so long.

“Come on, y/n. Cut the shit.” He snapped, finally losing the temper he’d been so desperate to keep hold of. At the sound of his tone, your head shot up in anger, pupils clouded with a flame of rage. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Jake.” You snipped, knuckles turning white from the tight grip you had around the wooden cue.

“Oh, I know, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, never breaking your gaze. Your heart was erratic in your chest and the alcohol in your system was not particularly intoxicating you, but it was definitely worsening your emotional state.

“That’s your problem, Jake. You know everything, don’t you?” You sneered. “You’ve got it all figured out, and we just live in this world that Jacob created and we have to be happy about it because he thinks he’s fucking god.” You slammed the cue back on the rack, finished with your lighthearted game and finding yourself overdue for a departure.

“So you want to fight?” He chuckled, peering down at you with a hint of curiosity in his face. “Let’s fight, sweetheart. I’ve got all night.”

“I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to speak to you at all, but you can’t seem to take the fucking hint.” You picked up your drink and began walking away, done with the conversation before it ever really started. You were in no state of mind to hash out your thoughts or settle the matter, and you weren’t willing to channel the energy to get there.

“I want to talk, y/n. That’s the point. You can’t have it your way all of the time, even if you’re so used to getting it.” You chugged back the last of the liquid in your cup, sitting the glass on the counter as you signalled the bartender towards you. “The world has more than just you in it.”

“Another double, please.” You said, disregarding Jake’s words completely. “And I’d like to close out, if I can.” He gave a nod, compliant with your request.

“I’ll get it.” Jake announced, brushing you to the side as the bartender sat the debit machine in front of you. He was mad, but it did not forego his feelings for you, nor his need to take care of you. “And mine, too.”

“Fuck off, Jake.” You warned, reaching to grab it before he could. He looked to you, eyes all but red with anger, clearly showcasing that he was more than done with your tyrant.

“Behave,” he muttered, just low enough for you to hear. Even as upset as you were, his words prompted a rush of arousal straight through you. Jake being an asshole somehow equated to sexual desire in your mind, and despite your contempt, you would have been willing to let him have his way with you right then and there. You watched as he paid, turned on but careful to not be forgetful of the fire in your heart. “Let’s go.” He turned to you, eyeing the drink in your hand as a silent order to finish it quickly.

“I’m not going home with you.” You let out a laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculous request. You sipped through the straw, watching as the theoretical smoke began pouring from his ears at your disobedience. You may have been intrigued at his dominance, but not enough to push your feelings to the side. By having sex with him, you would only allow the painful debacle to continue without any repercussions. “I don’t even want to talk to you. Do you really think I want to fuck you?” Something snapped deep inside him, like the fuse to the bomb had finally whittled away to the end.

“I’m not asking, y/n. Finish your fucking drink and get outside.” There was no hidden implications within his message this time; he wasn’t using your high emotion as leverage for a night long session. He wanted to fight, too, even if he tried to pass it off as a mature discussion. You shot him a glare, but chugged down the carbonated beverage like it was holy water, knowing that it would be the night’s only salvation. You sat the cup on the counter and turned without another word.

Back at the booth, Dylan and Danny were watching with fear settled deep in their spines, worried that when they made their return back to the hotel, there would be no building left to sleep in. Jakes need for control and your fiery temper was not a good mix, and that was true without the added effects of the liquor you both had been gorging yourselves on. Danny was certain that Jake’s antics with the nameless woman at the venue would cause nothing but trouble, and Dylan was there to pick up the pieces after the devastation struck. They knew how catastrophic the situation could be, and they weren’t sure how to stop the inevitable.

“They’re going back together, aren’t they?” Josh asked, tipsy and almost laughing at the thought. He wasn’t even facing the door, but he didn’t need to see you to know what you were up to.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Danny chuckled.

“It’s Jake,” he rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “I can feel how angry he is all the way over here. He’s not going to let her go home without him.” The three settled into a shared laugh at the thought.

“Use your twin telepathy every now and then and tell me how they’re doing, okay?” Dylan asked, laughing but still worried about the scene that might unfold. Josh peeked over his shoulder in just enough time to catch Jake swing the door open for you, his grip nearly breaking the wooden panel as he held it. The emotion radiating from the both of you was heavy enough to fill the entire room, leaving no empty space for any questions or concerns.

“They’ll either never speak to each other again, or they’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.” Josh deducted, knowing no better way to explain his thoughts. Dylan heaved a heavy sigh, slinking back into the booth and closing her eyes. Danny snaked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side in hopes to ease her worry, but all three of them were praying for the best possible outcome.

The night was cold on your exposed skin; the flimsy fabric of your tattered shirt sprawled with a worn band logo was not enough to insulate any heat. Your jeans were littered with rips and holes, leaving your legs vulnerable, too. The alcohol coursing through you was doing nothing to aid your temperature, and your teeth were chattering as soon as the bar door shut behind you. Wordlessly, Jake followed you as you stormed away. He never let you get too far, but kept a respectable distance from you. He didn’t want you running off, or for anyone to intercept the two of you. His arms-length distance was suitable for his comfort, but he didn’t want to crowd you, either. Even in his anger, he was always mindful of your safety and comfortability.

“Take my jacket, y/n.” He said, watching your draw your arms across your chest to preserve any body heat left in you.

“I don’t want your stupid jacket.” You replied, picking up the pace as you trundled down the sidewalk.

“Not asking,” he reminded, slipping it off his shoulders as he followed.

“Stop trying to take care of me!” You exploded, turning to him quicker than he could comprehend. He halted his movement in attempt to stop himself from running into you, still processing the sudden change when you started to speak again. “It’s not your job, Jake! I never asked you to, and I don’t want you to!” His scowl was heavy, unsettling and so unlike anything you’d seen from him before.

“I don’t care.” He said, looking down at you with little fear of your outburst. “I don’t care if you want me to, y/n. Don’t care if you asked, don’t care if it’s my job. I’m always going to do it, because I care about you. Now take the fucking jacket, and keep walking. You can yell at me all you want when we get inside.” You found yourself caught in a staring contest with him, both fuming but neither willing to give in. He raised an eyebrow, moving his arm to shove the jacket a little closer to you. With a clenched jaw, you snatched it from his hand and draped it over your shoulders. He didn’t think to utter a thanks, and you didn’t stay long enough to notice if he did.

The hotel lobby was vacant when you tumbled through the doors in disarray. The clerk at the front desk seemed like they were eager to greet you, but decided not to once they saw the expression you adorned. You rushed to the elevator, pressing the button as many times as your hand would allow. When the doors opened, you bustled inside and clicked the button to your floor, hoping the doors would close in his face. When they began to slide together, Jake caught up to you in enough time to stick his hand between them and send them flying open again. You rolled your eyes as he made his presence known, wondering why he felt the need to stand so close to you. In truth, he was all the way across the elevator, yet your intoxication and annoyance made it seem like he was nose to nose with you.

When a ding rang through the air signaling your arrival on the top floor, you couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. He stayed close behind, knowing that if he let you get to your room and close the door, you would never let him in. His inkling was not incorrect, as that was your exact plan. You thought if you could gain some distance, you would be able to lock the door and sulk in peace. You flashed your key card against the reader, twisting the knob and pushing inward in one swift motion. You opened the door so fast that you almost fell in and onto the floor, but kept your footing just to get the satisfaction of slamming the door in his face. When you turned to close the door, you were joyous when you didn’t see Jake immediately behind you. You thought you were in the clear, but just before you could bridge the gap, he stuck his foot between the frame and the door itself.

“Take a hint,” you huffed, out of breath from his pursuit.

“Would you give it up?” He snapped. “Let me in. I’m not leaving things like this. I’m not leaving you like this.” He refused to move out of the way, his foot planted firmly on the ground so you couldn’t lock him out.

“Then you can sit out there all night.” You challenged, sending another shove on the handle. He let out a hiss of pain as his foot was jammed in the opening, making the foolish decision to withdraw. Seizing the opportunity, you managed to latch the door shut without any further struggle. Jake felt a wave of frustration wash over him, letting his forehead fall flat against the solid door, sending the thumping sound through your room. You felt a sob rising in your throat, disgusted with yourself and the situation you found yourself in. You, too let your head fall against the door; both of you assumed the position, wishing you were leaning on each other to feel the warmth of comfort. Instead, stubborn and determined to be right, you left your hand on the knob with no intent to open it again. The yearning was so strong that you could both feel it clearly even through the blockage of oak wood.

“I know you’re mad at me, y/n, and I know why.” His words were muffled, but you could hear him clear as day. When it came to the sweet tone of his voice, you would strain to listen until you were left deaf and defeated. “Let me fix it, please.” You didn’t answer, instead felt the tears slip down your cheeks as you pictured the lingering pain he was holding in his features. He hurt you, and you were hurting him. It was an evil thing to entertain a relationship when you were both bound to destroy each other. Love was an ugly motivator, and it had left you both feeling alone much more often than it ever left you happy.

“I don’t want to fix it, Jake. I just want it to stop.” Perhaps your poor mood was clouding the level of drunkenness you were experiencing; now that the rage had settled into a dull ache, your head was swimming with intoxication. You weren’t sure what you were thinking, or feeling. All you knew was that it hurt, and it hurt unbearably bad. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“If you’re ending this, at least do it to my face.” The crack in his voice was unmistakable, his fear louder than any other emotion shared that night. “Please, Gold Dust Woman. Don’t end things like this.” You cheeks were already streaked with mascara, your skin damp with the physical remains of your mistakes. You wanted it to stop hurting, but you didn’t know how to put an end to it. Walking away was tempting, but the emptiness in your heart prompted from the thought alone was enough to make you stay. “Let me in. You can yell, or scream, or break things. I don’t care, just let me in.”

“I can’t let you in, Jake. Don’t you get that?” You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip, holding back the urge to cry out. “Every time I do, it hurts. It shouldn’t be painful to love you.” You were both too caught up in your breaking hearts to notice the declaration of love that you had let slip. “You said intimacy isn’t easy, and I know that, but it shouldn’t hurt this bad.”

“Open the fucking door,” he pleaded, jiggling the handle as he begged for your cooperation. “Y/n, I will break this door down if I have to.” His desperation was evident, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being in tears and him not being there to hold you. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, despite his previous promises of being a good sport if the situation turned on him. Love had crazed him, and he was too weak to fight it anymore.

You took a step away, looking to the whiskey bottle decorating your nightstand like a trophy of despair. If heartbreak were a competition, you would be in the lead. You reached for it, taking a long drink to satisfy the ache in your heart. You were so lost within suffering that you weren’t even certain what you were hurting over anymore. Yes, Jake had shattered you with his careless flirting, but it had grown far beyond his mistakes. Months of hurting from being stuck between the brothers was breaking you down, leaving nothing left but a mess of guilt and sorrow. You were on the brink of insanity, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take before inevitably spiralling out of control. You had no idea who you were, nor where you were going. Time was blur and you were just a pawn within the game, floating through while life happened around you. When he wiggled the handle one more time, the guilt from pushing him away became too much. You took two long strides to the door, using a single finger to pull down the handle, just enough to set the latch free. It took him a moment to process your action, but once he did, he swung the door open like it was the gate to hell.

Sandalwood filled the room, and it’s cold hands reached out for you with a mask of invitation. When you gave in to it, showing signs of weakness, the fingers clasped around your neck in a violent hold. It was enough to bring you to your knees, enough to make you beg for more, even while knowing it would eventually be the very thing that would take your life. You looked to meet his eyes, but neither of you were ready to run to each other in apology. You took a seat on the edge of the bed, bottle in hand with a heavy heart. “Start talking.” He kicked the door shut behind him, but did not move any closer to you.

“You don’t get to come in here and start barking orders.” You shook your head, chuckling as you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks clean of any painful evidence.

“Would you rather have it your way? I can stand in the hallway and wait. Maybe by the morning you’ll sober up enough to talk to me.” He tried his best to keep cool, but he had never felt so much emotion course through his veins at once. Every possible worry was swimming in his head, leaving him desperate for some sort of relief.

“You’re such a self-righteous prick.” You scoffed, slamming the bottle down on the table. “It’s okay when you get pissed off at me and ignore me for three days, but when I do it, it’s the end of the world?” You looked up, finally catching sight of his face. “Sorry, I forgot you’re the only person in the world who’s allowed to feel things.”

“No, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I think you might have things a little mixed up. I dont go around picking fights at the bar in front of everyone. I’m not the one locking you out in the hallway and making you look like an idiot.” He cocked his head to the side, the look in his eye dangerous. You were both volatile, barely needing to be provoked to explode.

“Oh, so it’s an appearance thing! God forbid Jake looks a little silly, I forgot it’s not good for his image when somebody calls him on his shit.” You seethed. “Sorry I ruined your mystical elusive bullshit, or that I made you admit you can feel something deeper than sexual. It’s about time that I realize that it’s part of the rockstar charm to make someone fall for you and then keep them guessing if you feel the same way.”

“Guessing?” He fumed, taking a step towards you. “You really have to guess if I care about you or not?” You stood, just as willing to challenge him.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t letting random bimbo’s feel you up at concerts.” You snapped. “Or is that your backup plan? Love some brotherly competition but not when it gets too tough?”

“You know that’s not true, y/n.” He warned, pointing his finger at you to solidify his truth. “I fucked up. I get it, and I feel like shit about it. I’ll say I’m sorry a million times if I have to, but you don’t get to accuse me of that.”

“I don’t get to?” You reiterated, trying to understand his words. “You deliberately went out of your way to make me jealous. You stood there, dangling her off your arm like a shiny trophy for what? Leverage? A way of telling me that I’m easily replaceable? Or as a way to tell me that you don’t think I’m good enough?” You tried to fight the wavering tone, tears threatening to make another appearance and ruin your moment of power. “You don’t get to be mad, Jake. You don’t get to be upset over something you started. I understand that this whole thing hasn’t been sunshine and rainbows, but you started it! You got me into bed that night knowing I loved him, and you didn’t care about any repercussions! I can’t keep feeling like shit over an outcome you knew would happen!”

“I get to be mad!” He boomed, moving even closer. “I get to be upset, I’m allowed to hurt, I’m allowed to feel everything that you feel, because I’m a fucking person, too!” You were both yelling, uncaring of the late hour or the neighbouring rooms likely filled with sleeping people. “I get to fuck up, and I get to say sorry, just like you do! Just because I signed up for the pain doesn’t mean it feels nice to see you in his arms!”

“Why doesn’t it feel nice, Jake?” You hissed. “Is it because you love me, or is it just because you don’t want him to have me?” He gave you a bewildered look, stunned by your question. It caught him so off guard that the malice temporarily fled him.

“What?”

“You keep acting like you’re innocent, that this whole thing started because you were so enamoured with me, but it’s just not true, is it?” You raised an eyebrow, watching the flood of disdain wash over his face. “That baggage is awfully heavy, Jacob, even if you think you’re carrying it well. This pissing contest with Sam is way bigger than just me. You let me wallow in the guilt and feel like the worst person in the world because I fell for both of you, but you get off on it, don’t you? The thrill of taking something from your brother?” He straightened up, watching you with a fervour. His expression was deadly, eyes dangerous and warning you to stop before you took it too far.

“Y/n,” his voice was low, the tone calm but covering a mountain of red. He was vibrating at the accusation, and was pleading with you to yield. Their history was always left unspoken, and you voicing it back to him did nothing but bring up years worth of pain he’d been desperately trying to forget.

“Do you like passing girls back and fourth? Stealing them right from each others bed and ruining them, just so you two can make up and hug it out later?” He took a step towards you, silent but deadly. “Is it fun? Do you get a good thrill from it? Do you think you can do it forever, or that you’ll always get away with it, and you and Sam can live happily in your little fucked up world?”

“Stop talking, sweetheart,” he said, looking down at you and hoping you would see reason. You were chest to chest, the tension too high to withstand.

“Just answer the fucking question. Do you love me, or do you just love the idea of him not having me?” He didn’t respond, nor did he move an inch. You were yelling in his face, crazed for the truth, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all. “Tell me, Jake! Because I can’t take this anymore! I can’t keep running back and fourth. It never mattered if I made a decision or not, because you two will never fucking stop! I care about you so much, but it just feels like you both only care about beating each other in your twisted little game. I can’t keep falling without knowing someone is going to be there to catch me, because it’s killing me! This is killing me, and it’s never seemed to bother either of you-“ you were cut off by his hand raising and his fingers gently clasping around your neck, silencing any further thoughts.

“You talk a lot, Gold Dust Woman.” He noted, jaw hard set and nostrils flared with rage as he tried to keep it buried under the surface. “If you would shut the fuck up for a minute, maybe I could answer your ridiculous questions.” You watched him, angry but having no fear of him or that he would hurt you. You gave him a slow blink, showing him that you were willing to listen if he was ready to say something meaningful. “If I let go, are you going to behave?” You blinked again, answering his question sufficiently. He slowly released his hold, studying your face for any sign you would start your tyranny again.

“You really think that I like watching him love you? That it’s fun to know you’re tangled in his sheets, with his name painted across your lips?” You didn’t respond, giving him his own moment to voice his feelings. “It’s worse than torture, y/n. Sitting at home at night, or in my hotel room, knowing that I don’t get to hold you, or tell you exactly how I feel about you. You don’t get to tell me if I’m allowed to hurt, and you don’t get to put words into my mouth to make it sound like I’m a piece of shit. You have never been a game to me. What I feel for you has never been anything but true. Sure, maybe I don’t know how to show it all of the time, and maybe I should learn how to talk about my feelings, but you have no right to say that I don’t fucking care about you.” You felt a flash of regret as he spoke, seeing the sincerity underneath the hard exterior. It was so profound that it made your chest ache just hearing it. You couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling while professing it.

“You think you’re forgettable? Or that you’re not good enough for me? Like I’m trying to find someone to take your spot once I move on?” His face was hovering over your own, tone condescending and filled with accusatory undertones. You wanted to be angry, but you knew that you had done the exact same thing to him. “Fucking answer me.” He barked, eyes burning into you.

“I… I did, yeah. That’s how it made me feel.” You whispered, voice cracking at the thought of his arm around another girl. “It killed me, Jake, and I had to get up on stage and pretend that you hadn’t just ripped my heart out of my chest.”

“Forgetting you has never been an option for me. I’ve been trying since the day I met you, and even more so after I saw the stars dancing in your eyes every single time you looked at him.” Him. Jake didn’t have to say the name for you to know who he was referring to. Jake had been struggling with inferiority long before you’d ever graced him with your touch, and he was finally reaching a breaking point. Every time he saw you and Sam together, it was like a stab to an already open wound. “I don’t know who made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or why they would ever make you feel like that, but you are more than enough for me. So good that it fucking kills me. You’re worse than any addiction I can imagine, and there is nothing after you, y/n. No girls lined up or anything like it, none that even catch my eye, because it’s all you, and it always has been. You are everything to me.” He tried to keep his stern demeanour, but his strength was wavering at the thought of his own love for you.

“I’m not going to stand here and talk down about him, because I don’t know how he feels or what he’s thinking. All I know is that I have been crazy about you since the first time I laid eyes on you, and I still am. I don’t know how to show you, but I have been trying in any way I know how. Yeah, I started this, and sometimes I wish I didn’t, but it has never been because I don’t want you.”

“If we care so much, why is this so fucking hard all of the time!” You exploded, unable to process everything he was saying to you. “If we like being together, why are we always mad at each other!” Your words were not particularly posed as a question, but rather a statement. “At first it was exciting, and the passion kept things interesting, but now it’s fucking exhausting.”

“Because that’s what happens when people care about each other, y/n! You fight, you feel things you don’t normally feel, and everything is a million times harder, especially when you can’t have each other!” He was frustrated, and that was clear. You still weren’t sure how you felt, or if the anger had dissipated enough for you to move on. You knew you were still upset, but there was a small voice in your head begging for you to reach out and hold him, that it would solve all of your problems and you would wake up in the morning without any more pain as long as you woke up next to him.

“Is that your way of asking?”

“Asking what?” He snapped, tired of the back and fourth.

“To love me.” You clarified, your heart erratic as the words left your mouth. He seemed to stop breathing for a moment, shocked at your words. “Because if it is, it fucking sucks.”

“I have been asking you that every single day, y/n.” He corrected. “In everything I do, and everything I say, but you won’t let me.”

“Because it’s not supposed to be this hard, Jake. The yelling, the ignoring, the jealousy and the pushing each other away. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“Then leave.” He snapped. “Or tell me to leave! If you don’t think this is right, or if you don’t want me, stop pretending you do.” You managed to shake your head at his outburst, terrified that he would step closer, and even more terrified that he would step back. You wanted to tell him everything, but you couldn’t seem to let the words pass through your lips. It was tantalizing to love him so deeply but have no idea how to express it.

“I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?” He scowled. “Why are you so scared to say it? It’s a four letter word, y/n. It won’t hurt you, and I’m sure it’ll feel so much better to get it out.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You hissed, placing your palm on his chest and pushing him backwards. You stepped away, making a move towards the bottle of whiskey on your nightstand. He stepped towards it, too, cutting you off and grabbing it before you could lay your hands on it. You turned your head, shooting him a glare that was piercing enough to disturb his soul.

“Or do you think you’re some kind of martyr?” He hummed, a smirk breaking out on his lips. “You’re so worked up because you’re projecting, aren’t you? Mad at us for playing with you, but you’ve been been the biggest con artist of all.” A rush of fear ran through you, your palms sweaty and your blood cold. “Who told you about Sam and I?” He pressed, finally calling out the most crucial piece to the puzzle.

“It doesn’t matter,” you reached for the alcohol, but he moved his hand so you couldn’t grab it from him.

“Maybe we aren’t the only ones who’ve been up to no good, hmm?” He raised an eyebrow, placing the bottle to his lips and taking a slow drink of the amber liquid. “Have you been trying to teach us a lesson, Gold Dust Woman?” He asked, the bottle barely free from his lips before he spoke again. You averted your gaze, nervous that he’d picked up on your plan so easily. “You’re not innocent either, sweetheart.” He picked up on your expression easily, his question answered without any further confirmation needed. “Tell me, baby. Lying won’t help you now.” His smirk turned into a twisted little smile, thrilled that he finally managed to figure you out.

“You can’t outdo the master,” you muttered, knowing that you had learned that lesson long before that moment. “So it never really mattered, anyway.”

“We all lost, angel. There was never going to be a winner, and you know that.”

“So why are you still trying?” You shot, fed up with his game and ready to retire.

“Why are you?” He responded, stalemating you once more. You stared at him, no words surfacing in your brain that seemed fitting for an answer. “Seems like that little four letter word would solve all of the problems once again. It may even be the answer to all of our questions, too.” You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, knowing that he was right; if you could admit to what you both were feeling, perhaps the pain would be obsolete.

“Give me the bottle, Jake.” You diverted the conversation again, reaching out with annoyance. He pulled his hand away again, shaking his head. You didn’t like the mischievous glint in his eye. It was very clearly telling you that he was no longer interested in talking things over. The demeanour shifted, and the tension in the air quickly turned sexual. He wanted to solve the problems in the best way he knew how, and you were never one to deny him of a wish.

“Now, why would I do that?” He smirked. “Bad girls don’t get what they want, and you’ve been nothing but bad.” He noted, taking a step closer to you. “I love discovering your secrets, Gold Dust Woman. They’re always so much fun.” His tone dropped and he took a step towards you, backing you up onto the bed. When the backs of your knees collided with the mattress, you sat down and looked up at him. Your stomach was burning with desire; your anger still lingering, but almost completely overtaken by hunger for him. It did not take much for Jake to turn you into a mess for him, and seemed like it was his favourite thing to do.

“We can’t use sex to try and fix everything, Jake.” You fought it, but your retaliation was weak. You knew that sex with him could cure even the worst of ailments. It could turn dust into gold and even water into wine. Jake’s trade was sex, and he was the master of it. If you had doubt about anything, it surely wasn’t that. Worst of all, it was completely irresistible.

“I’m not trying to fix anything with sex, angel. I am fixing it, and I’m starting with your shitty attitude.” He explained, already expecting you to know that. “You’ve been sneaky, running around and trying to teach us something that we already know all about. You think this is fun for us? That we enjoy it?”

“N-no,” you shook your head, mouth practically watering at the idea of him. It had been so long since you had a moment alone with him that you almost forgot how enchanting he was.

“You really think that I’m doing this because it’s exciting, or because I get a thrill from stealing you from him?” You didn’t respond, because both of you knew that you had been feeling exactly that. “Am I really going to have to show you how much I care about you?” He mumbled to himself, admiring your face despite his distaste for your actions. “Before anything, I think I might need to remind you of who’s in charge, here. Seems like you forgot that you don’t get to speak to me like that.” With his free hand, he undid the buckle of his belt, smiling at the sight your face. He slowly slipped the leather from the loops of his jeans, carefully sitting it on the bed beside you, hoping to remind you of his love for using it. “Does that sound okay to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” You said, willing to submit to him as an apology for your earlier actions. In your anger, you had thrown some hurtful accusations his way, one’s that weren’t anywhere near the truth. You were willing to stay in line as long as he didn’t push you too far.

“Good girl,” the small praise sent a rush of arousal through you. “You want some?” He questioned, lifting the bottle of whiskey into your line of vision. Almost as soon as the flame died down, he reignited it worse than it burned before.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking dog,” you snapped, your expression of excitement quickly twisting into a scowl. Unfortunately for you, Jake’s favourite pastime was pushing your buttons, but he wasn’t willing to stand the backtalk. He took his free hand and clasped your cheeks between his fingers, holding your mouth shut in a way much less than gentle.

“I can talk to you however I want, sweetheart.” He warned, eyes hard and lacking any sympathy. “I asked you a question. Do you want some of this?” He tried again, his words slow and impactful. Your gaze flickered from his face to the bottle, teeth grinding together in anger as you nodded your head. “Then open your fucking mouth.” He relaxed his grip on your face, allowing you to obey his command. With little hesitation, you slackened your jaw and parted your lips, expecting him to pour the liquid straight into your mouth. Instead, he brought the bottle to his own mouth, taking a sip and setting it down on the table again.

His lips upturned into a small smile when he looked down and saw your shocked expression. Despite not expecting it, you were intrigued by his intentions. He let his fingers slide down to your chin, tilting your head upwards and holding you in place. He leaned forward, close enough so he wouldn’t miss his target, but distant enough to deprive you of any other touch. Slowly, he let the liquid trickle from his lips into your mouth, neither of you moving until all of the whiskey was dancing around your own tongue. He closed your mouth for you, leaning down a bit further so his lips were ghosting over your own.

“Swallow,” he hummed, encouraging you a little. You did as he asked, feeling the warmth spread through your chest and settle in your stomach. “That’s my girl.” He spoke as his eyes fluttered closed. In appreciation for your obedience, he pulled you in for a kiss. The liquor was still potent on his skin, adding to the intoxicating feeling of kissing him. After all, Jake would not be so familiar if he lacked the scent of sandalwood laced with whiskey, and he would not be so familiar if you did not find yourself drunk off a single kiss. He pulled away, almost unwilling to part with you, but straightened up despite his dismay. “Stand up.”

You rose to your feet, head still spinning with the previous events and a growing ache between your legs that only he knew how to satiate. He cupped your cheek in his hand, drawing you into another kiss. As he did so, he slipped his jacket from your shoulders and discarded it on the floor. He let his hands rest on your hips just below the hem of your shirt, both of you growing more desperate with every second that passed. When he broke away, he took little time to pull your shirt over your head. The air was cool on your skin, but you knew it wouldn’t take long for him to warm you up again. With expert precision, he unbuttoned your jeans and allowed you to slide out of them.

He took a moment to admire you while you stood nearly fully exposed before him. “On the bed,” he ordered, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you. As much as you felt like you couldn’t resist him, he felt it for you a million times more. Jake was such a fool for you that his love for dominance meant little to nothing to him, and he would give it up in a heartbeat if he knew he could please you by doing so. You quickly turned, shuffling into the mattress with your back to him and got on your hands and knees. You knew him well enough to know how he wanted you, and he did not have the patience for you to ask him, anyway. He took a few steps towards you, his palm landing on your lower back in a sweet touch. He let his fingers drift over your skin, savouring the feeling of having you so intimately. His touch eventually landed on your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze before beginning his own tyrant.

“So, what is it, baby? What’s got you so worked up?” He asked, voice low and feigning concern. “Was it the girl at the concert?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, not sure why he was bringing her up, now. You thought you had made your point abundantly clear.

“You were jealous,” he noted, an air of cockiness in his voice. His hands were still dancing over your exposed skin, as if he was trying to familiarize himself with you again. “Right?”

“Yes,” you sighed, hating yourself for being so worked up over the incident.

“Because you thought she would get to have me like this?” His question seemed sincere, like he was genuinely trying to get to the bottom of the issue. “That I would treat her the same way I treat you?”

“I… yeah, I guess.” You admitted, feeling defeated and knowing there was no way out of this situation without explaining yourself. The whole reason you didn’t want to talk to him was not because you enjoyed being without him, but because you were terrible at explaining your feelings. You had no idea how to express your distaste for his actions, and you didn’t want to look like a fool trying to do so.

“Tell me how you feel, angel. I want to know.” He was coaxing the answer from you with sweetness, and when he had you in such a position, it wasn’t hard to do.

“Hurt,” you answered, but you both already knew that. It was the nights main topic. “It hurt seeing someone else touching you. It sucked seeing you touch someone else.”

“Mmm,” he urged you to keep going, thankful that you were finally able to speak without anger in your tone. “Because you want me all to yourself, don’t you?” He asked, slowly moving his hand between your legs.

“F-fuck, yes.” You stuttered, feeling his fingers locate your clit through the fabric of your underwear. “I do, Jake. I don’t want anyone else to have you.” At the delightful confession, he added a bit more pressure to his touch.

“See? It’s not so hard to say that, is it?” He hummed, pleased at your obedience.

“No,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed as you spoke. “It’s scary, sometimes, trying to tell you how I feel.”

“Why, baby?”

“Because I care about you a lot.” The weight on your chest was lifting with every word you said. Jake knew how to get exactly what he wanted from you; all it took was a promise of his hands, and you would tell him the secrets of the universe. Sex with Jake had always been a motivator, but in this case, it had little impact on the overall discussion. You were exhausted from keeping everything locked up in your brain, and you wanted to tell him more than you wanted to keep it hidden. His touch was just encouragement, aiding you in your confession.

“You know I’d never touch anyone else like this.” He reminded. “I’d never treat anyone as good as I treat you.”

“I know,” you breathed, hoping that he would give you more than what he was already offering.

“So why accuse me of not caring, angel?” Your eyes opened, expression dropping as your stomach burned with anxiety. He wasn’t into the sweet confessional; he wanted you to repent for the hurtful words you said, and he wanted to punish you for even thinking them. “Do you think it’s fun to be a brat?” He furthered his question, tone growing stronger as he continued on. “That you can speak to me like that get away with it?”

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You did not feel the need to defend yourself; you had made your bed, and now it was time to lay in it. Your only hope was that he would find mercy for you if you showed enough remorse for your actions.

“You’re not sorry, sweetheart. You’d do it again if you had the chance, and that’s why I can’t let you get away with it.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he reached for the belt on the bed beside you. The metallic cling of the buckle sent a shiver of fear through your body, but you kept your position and bargained with the pleasure that was bound to come after the pain. “What was it that you called me?” He pretended to ponder, letting the cool leather dance over your skin to taunt you. “Remind me, again.”

“A self righteous prick.” You mumbled, eyes closed as you braced for impact.

“Right,” he nodded his head, as if it took great effort to recall your insults. “A self righteous prick who thinks he’s god, that cares too much about his image and only wants sex.” He listed off, showcasing that he remembered your words exceptionally well. “Does that sound familiar, or am I missing something?”

“No, that sounds right.” The shame in your voice was astounding, filling the room and weighing you both down.

“Still feel that way, angel?”

“No, sir.” You shook your head. The leather had now warmed to the same temperature as your skin after sitting idle for so long.

“I don’t think I believe you.” He tried to sound sympathetic, but he couldn’t hide the sadistic tone he so often used with you. He was enjoying watching you struggle, and he was going to enjoy everything that came after.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You tried again, but it was futile.

“That was four insults, if I’m counting correctly.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “So… two for each, and two more just because you pissed me off. Ten… I think that’s fair. Do you, sweetheart?” You were in a predicament of fighting and risking further punishment, or agreeing and suffering without trying to defend yourself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yes, sir.” You tried to hide your annoyance, but he could read you like a book, even if he was blinded and deafened.

“Remember your colours?”

“Yes.” You nodded, comforted by the thought of being able to stop if it became too much.

“I always loved the colour red on you.” He crooned, letting his hand run over the thin red lace concealing you. Your stomach settled at the gentle touch, wondering if he was going to be kind to you and change his mind. Just when you let your fears settle, the sharp sting of the belt sounded through the room. You let in a sharp gasp, the feeling catching you off guard and the pain quickly fizzling away. In his own way, he was being kind to you. The strength in which he hit you was nowhere near what he was capable of, and you knew that. He did not get off to the thought of you getting hurt, just to the idea of making you suffer a little bit.

You barely recovered from the pain before he lifted his hand and brought the leather down for another time. You held back a groan, not wanting to show any emotion at all until the punishment was through. “One down,” he said, encouraging you to keep going. His focus was on your ass, which was unfortunate for you to receive so many blows to the same place, but he was doing it for good reason. He didn’t want to risk any marks being visible in any stage clothes, and was aiming to keep your bedroom escapades away from the public eye to save you from any uncomfortable situations. It was thoughtful, but brutal all the same.

He wanted to draw out the experience, but the thought of leaving you without comfort for so long was nearly painful for him. He brought the belt down once more, the force more than he intended. You let out a hiss, flinching away from the contact in hopes to ease the sting. He brought his hand to your skin, letting his fingers drift over the red mark left behind. It was soothing, but barely, mostly because you knew he did not have enough sympathy for you to stop there. In truth, you did not expect him to. You were mean, and what you had said to him was not fair. Jake cared about you, and that was never something you should have questioned. Your emotions got the best of you, convincing you that you were less than what he truly thought you were worth.

When you showed signs of recovery, he wasted no time in striking again. The fourth was much gentler, but on top of the already irritated skin, seemed much more violent than it truly was. By the fifth one, your teeth were grinding together to keep yourself silent. By the sixth, tears were pooling in your eyes. You did not have faith in yourself to make it to the end, but you were not one to give up so easily. When he struck for the seventh time, it knocked the breath from your lungs and left your legs quivering. When the sting subsided, you let out a whimper of relief. The sound settled in his chest, prompting a feeling of guilt. “Have you had enough, or do you still feel that way?”

“N-no, I don’t. I’m sorry.” You rasped, tears rolling down your face. “M’so sorry, Jake.” The sincerity of your voice nearly brought him to his knees and he had to shake himself out of his thoughts to keep himself in character. With a clenched jaw, he raised his arm and brought the belt down to your skin once more. You let a raw cry out at the impact, the pain intense and the only thing you could focus on. He let the belt drop to the floor, finished with his mission and worried he pushed you too far. He moved to lay a hand on your skin again, hoping to soothe the ache. When you shied away from his touch, a wave of terror washed over him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, his hand opting to find your hip rather than the red skin on your ass. You took in a shaky breath, propping yourself on your elbow as you tried to catch your breath.

“That was only eight.” You reminded. He cocked his head to the side, processing the statement with confusion. “You said ten.” He let out a small laugh, one filled with disbelief at your words.

“You want two more?” He asked, clarifying before moving on.

“No! I just… you said ten, and… yeah.” You trailed off, finally able to gather your thoughts as the ache began to fade.

“I think I’ve made my point.” He explained, prompting you to straighten up so you could look at him. “You did so well that I don’t believe you need two more.” He hid the truth, which was that he did not have the heart for two more. He thought he pushed you far enough, and the idea of giving you any type of lasting injury greater than superficial was sickening to him. “Come here,” he beckoned you towards him, guiding you into his lap. With great ease, he lifted you and settled you into his arms. You let your legs find home on either side of him, melting into the touch and almost forgetting the pain he had inflicted on you moments before. He let his hands settle on your hips, pulling you down just a little further in search of relief from the erection strained against his jeans. “I knew you could be good for me,” he mumbled, distracted by the closeness of your face and the friction of you against him. “It wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No,” you replied, also lost in his features. With him so close to you, nothing else existed. If it did, it was completely unimportant to you. He leaned forward, capturing you in a kiss too sweet to match the nights intensity. You brought a hand to his cheek, holding him to you as your other found his arm to keep yourself steady. Truthfully, it was just another excuse to touch him. With his hands on you, you had no fear of falling. Even if you doubted it, deep down you knew Jake would always be there to catch you.

He moved his hands to your back, unclasping your bra with ease. You loosened your grip on him so he could take it off. When it was discarded on the floor, he ran his thumb over your nipple. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, prompting you to grind your hips against him. He let out a low groan against your lips, parting with you to suck in a sharp breath. To cover his own desperation, he brought his lips back to you, peppering kissing down your cheek to your jaw and settling on your neck. He let his lips dance over the sensitive skin, careful not to leave behind any marks amidst his passionate endeavour. When he found that sweet spot he was searching for, you let out a shaky sigh as your arm wrapped around his neck. You let your fingers dance in his hair, uncaring of the unusual sweetness of the moment.

You let out a gasp, hips moving down on him again as he continued his work on your neck. In an automatic response, a growl sounded from him, showing his appreciation for your enthusiasm. He moved his fingers, forgoing his previous gentleness, and pinched your nipple between his fingers. A whimper fell from your lips, lighting a fire in him at the sound. His hand dropped from your breast, falling to your hip as his fingers dipped under the elastic of your underwear. Faster than you could comprehend, he gave a sharp pull and the lace easily broke away from your skin.

“Jake-“ you made a move to voice your discontent with his action, but he was already in motion, shifting to lay you down on the bed and settle between your legs.

“Shut up. I’ll buy you whatever you want to replace it.” He huffed, using his hand again to break the other side free. You were so eager for him to touch you that you couldn’t find the will to care about the fabric he had destroyed. The skin that he had wounded was stinging in reaction to the fabric of the blankets, but the pain was easily forgotten as he discarded the remains of your underwear on the floor and moved downward between your legs. He hooked his arms beneath your thighs and pulled you down on him, his mouth connecting with your cunt as he disregarded any more discussion.

You let out a moan, overwhelmed by the sudden change. His tongue moved quickly and with intent; he wasn’t eager to tease and was desperate to give you an orgasm, partially because he loved pleasing you, but mostly due to his desire to fuck you. Your hands found his hair, already needy enough to pull on the strands as encouragement for him to keep going. He hummed against you, almost smiling at your crazed reaction. He knew what he did to you, and he was intending to prove a point.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whimpered, almost unsure of what to do with yourself. The pleasure from his simple work was unexplainable, and you were on the brink of insanity from his tongue alone. Just the same as the first night, you had yourself convinced that Jake was a simple reincarnation of the devil. Put on this earth in a mortal body to inflict suffering on others, but most specifically you. It was hard to feel remorseful about your entanglement when a simple touch from him alone could outshine any other existing thing in the universe. Evil was coursing through his veins, and you were the prey he chose to take for his own. Even so, it was hard to feel like prey when every touch he graced you with was blissful, and it was hard to recognize you were dying when the descent was so pleasant.

Sinful was not a powerful enough word for what Jake was doing to you; it was godless, and you feared that a human being could not house power over another like he had on you. As a whole, he was iniquitous. His advantage over others was unfair, and he chose to use it for evil. But, you were in no position to point a finger, because your enjoyment left you just as criminal as him. You could shame Jake for his unrighteous acts, but you knew that you were no better simply for allowing it to continue.

You had become the boy who cried wolf, denouncing him for placing you amidst the painful battle, but you were no better for allowing him access to you despite its disastrous effects. It was no longer believable that he was causing you any harm because you were so willing to accept his invitations.

He added his fingers to you, driving you closer to a climax instantly. Your hips moved in search for more, and every time you thought he was unable to provide, he managed with ease. Your abdomen ached from your tensed muscles and your stomach was burning in hopes for a release. “Oh god, Jake, I’m gonna cum.” You warned, forehead glistening with sweat from the intensity of the feeling. You noticed his hips grinding into the mattress as he worked, desperate for relief, too. The knowledge of his enjoyment from giving you pleasure was a driving force, sending your already exhausted body into a frenzy. He couldn’t verbally encourage you, so he hoped his focus was enough to let you know that it was okay, and that it was exactly what he needed from you.

The orgasm washed over you like a storm of emotion, the relief alone enough to bring you to tears again. Your muscles were tense, your lungs depraved of oxygen as you cried his name. He didn’t slow until he was certain he had given you the absolute most he could. When your legs relaxed and your body fell limp onto the mattress again, he tapered his movements until he eventually pulled away from you completely.

He caught his breath, wiping away the remnants of your orgasm from his chin. His eyes studied your face, trying to memorize every detail so he could relive the moment later. In a soft touch, his hands drifted over your thighs and all the way up to your stomach, the featherlight sensation sending a shiver down your spine. He moved back up your body, unable to resist the urge to kiss you again. You drew him closer to you, hoping that you could hold him there and exist in the blissful cloud forever. He revelled in the touch only for a moment before rising to his feet again. His eyes drifted over the table on your bedside, taking note of all the items on the surface. He adjusted himself in his jeans as he reached out for one.

Your initial thought was the whiskey, but when his hand surpassed the bottle, you pulled yourself from the euphoria in attempt to comprehend his thoughts. His fingers settled on the keycard to your room, in which he picked up and slid between his fingers, flashing it in your line of sight so you could see what he had grabbed. You sat up, fear striking you similar to the first night you shared with him. “You’re leaving?” You asked, worry evident in your tone.

“Oh, now you want me to stay?” He teased, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back, Gold Dust Woman.” He assured you, but did not lean forward for any further touch. “I want you exactly like this when I get back. Do you understand?” You managed a small nod, wondering when his return would be. Knowing Jake, he could have meant five minutes, or five hours. His air of mystery was constant, and he did not like disturbing it.

“Yes, sir.” You said, eyes never leaving him. At your confirmation, he stepped towards the exit of the room. You opened your mouth to stop him, but no words came out. Instead, you watched him slip through the doorway and into the hall without any further explanation. The lock clicked shut behind him, and he disappeared as if he never existed in the first place. The deafening silence in the room was too much to bear, and the lack of company was crushing. The only reminder of his presence was the lingering tingle on your skin from the ghost of your orgasm.

You watched the door, the seconds passing by slowly, and your hope fizzling away with each minute that went by. You looked around the room, noticing only his jacket and belt on the floor, but no other reminders of him. There was nothing worth coming back for, aside from you. You had to find faith that you were worth the return, and it proved to be a struggle. You weren’t bound to the bed, nor the room. You could freely dress yourself and wander after him to discover where he was headed to. The idea was tempting, but there was a prickling fear of him coming back to find you away from the spot he was so keen on you staying in. Knowing Jake, you thought it best to stay and hope he was being genuine.

By minute five, the unsettling feeling was taking over. You could feel it in your bones, the fear of him returning to his room and going to bed. Although horrible, you did feel like the treatment would not be unwarranted. You had put him through hell that night, and you were unsure if you would ever be able to make up for it. When all hope was lost and the minute counter reached double digits, you collapsed onto the pillows in a heap of regret for your actions. Your chest ached with remorse and your heart was breaking at the memory of his pain stricken features. Before you descended too far into your own despair, the electronic click of the lock sounded, and the door opened once more.

Jake stepped inside, a styrofoam cup in his hand and a smile on his face. “Hi, angel.” He greeted you as if he had not left you in a complete state of disarray. He immediately noticed the relief on your face, finding his ego return at the knowledge that you wanted his company. “What’s wrong? Did you really think I’d leave you here like this?” He asked, tone dripping with fake concern.

“You? Never.” You managed a smile and a small laugh. He got a chuckle out of your comment too, ensuring that the door was shut tightly before returning to the bedside. Your eyes landed on the cup, curious as to what he felt was so important that he had to leave to retrieve.

“You knew I’d come back, sweetheart. Still have a point to prove, remember?” He reminded, looking down at you as he spoke. His eyes drifted over your naked body, the sight almost sending him feral. His composure was hanging by a thread, and you didn’t even have to do anything to worsen it. He sat the cup on the table alongside the keycard, but instead of climbing into bed with you again, he pulled his shirt over his head. You let out an audible sigh of satisfaction, thankful that he still had some kindness left in his heart for you. You peered inside the styrofoam, noticing nothing but ice. You looked back to him, dumbfounded only for a moment before realizing why he had left. The ice was not to chill any refreshments; it was just another thing for him to terrorize you with.

When he freed himself from the rest of his clothes, he dipped his fingers into the cup and pulled out a single ice cube. You settled back on the mattress, inviting him in. He took to the bed, finding himself back in his earlier position with ease. He gently laid the ice cube on your stomach, looking up at you with a smile. “Are you starting to remember how much I care, angel?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, focused mostly on the frigid feeling on your skin. He let out a low chuckle at your response. Instead of replying, he lowered his mouth to your stomach, just above where the ice was slowly beginning to melt from the heat of your body. He brought his tongue to the droplets, slowly running it over the skin to rid you of the water. You took in a sharp breath, the feeling of warmth from his mouth offsetting the chill from the ice almost immediately.

With ease, he slowly ran the ice up your torso. The cold was a shock, but quickly soothed with his tongue. When he reached just below your chest, he scooped the ice into his mouth and brought his lips to your nipple. He pulled it into his mouth, letting the ice sit on you before he made any further moves. The chill sent your back arching off the bed, an involuntary reflex that was prompted by the sensation. Once your nipple was hard, he began moving his tongue. A whine sounded from your throat as he continued, the feeling completely new and exciting. He continued on until the ice was a distant memory and your skin was warm once more.

When he pulled back, a shaky breath left your lips. He looked up, pleased at your expression. He gave you a smile, happy that you seemed to enjoy the change in pace. “Did you like that, beautiful?” Such a sweet name send your morals crashing down, no further care about your fight before finding yourselves in the position. You never seemed to catch any softness from Jake during sex, and when you did, it was earth shattering. The high energy and excitement was fantastic, but when you saw love dancing in his eyes, it reminded you of a whole different side of Jake you wished you could know.

“Yeah,” you said, but your focus was not on his words. You both seemed to be caught in a staring contest, clinging to the adoration in each others gaze in hopes to discover what had been so often left unsaid. “Can I try?” He laughed at your question, suddenly overtaken by the soft spot he held for you.

“If you want to.” The glimmer in his eye was so different than what you had seen from him before. It was one that was begging you to let him keep you like this for the rest of his life, and it was beautiful. Jake was not trying to prove he cared for you through rough sex and orders; he was doing the opposite, something you least expected of him. He was showing you himself to you completely, in the most intimate way possible.

“Okay, lay down.” You giggled, playfully shoving him off of you. He dramatically fell to the side of you, collapsing on the bed in a heap of laughter as he did. Dominance was natural to him, but vulnerability wasn’t. It was his last opportunity to show you how much you truly meant to him, and he was going to do whatever it took to make you understand. He assumed your position, nestled in the pillows and watching you experiment with him.

You grabbed your own ice cube, placing it between your lips as you watched him. Instead of bringing it to his body, you approached him for kiss. With surprise, he accepted the offer and snaked his hand to your hip, guiding you towards him. It was messy, both of you passing the melting ice back and fourth with little grace, but it was right. It felt right to be so careless with him, not needing to worry if he thought you were making a fool of yourself, and not worrying if he was enjoying himself. Both of you were having a grand time, and it was solely because you were in each other’s company. When the ice landed back in your mouth, almost melted but still hanging on, you moved away from him. He almost seemed disappointed at the loss of contact, but the drunken haze of desire in his eyes told you he was excited for your next move, too.

You sank down on the mattress, laying on your stomach between his legs while giving him a sweet smile. The breath caught in his throat, hoping that you were going to do what he thought you were. You lowered your head, bringing your hand to him as you brought your mouth to his cock. He let out a shaky breath, unfamiliar with the feeling of letting someone else be in control. You brought the ice to the tip of your tongue and ran it from the base of his cock to the tip, slow and steady with your pace. His eyes fluttered closed, the sensation completely foreign yet enjoyable, mostly because it was you that was doing it. You repeated the action a few times until the ice has melted completely. Once it did, you brought your mouth to the tip and slowly began bobbing your head down on him. You kept your focus there for a moment, attempting to show him that slow could sometimes be better. He would never admit it, but in that moment he would have agreed with you.

He let out a sigh, his small way of telling you that he thought you were doing a great job. Once the feeling of him in your mouth became familiar again, you picked up the pace a bit. To him, the speed was still agonizingly slow compared to what he was used to, but he was willing to allow you to lead the way. He reached down and gathered your hair in his hand, keeping it away from your face as you worked at him. As you relaxed your jaw and took him further, your eyes fluttered up to meet his. The eye contact was almost too much for him; he thought he might finish at the sight alone. In fear of the moment ending, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow to stop the impending orgasm. He tightened his grip on your hair, thrusting his hips upwards gently to meet the time of your mouth.

You focused on steadying your breathing, and then made your attempt to take his full length. When the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, he let out a groan, one that was surely the most heavenly sound you had ever heard in your entire life. You felt him twitch in your mouth, an obvious sign that he was close. If it were up to you, you would have let him finish, but he used his hand in your hair to pull you off of him. “Is that your way of saying sorry?” His chest heaved for breath as he asked the question. You looked to him, fearful that he was not enjoying the moment as much as you were. When he saw the fear dancing in your eyes, he was quick to speak again. “Because it’s working.” He added, settling your anxiety. “Come here.” He released the hold on your hair, beckoning you towards him. You moved upwards, straddling him again. He held your hips up as he shuffled upwards too, resting his back against the headboard of the bed. “You never fail to amaze me, Gold Dust Woman.” He hummed, raising a hand to your cheek in a soft embrace. You leaned into the touch, reaching down to line him up with you.

“Sometimes I feel like I exist just to please you.” You admitted, sinking down on him as a soft moan left your lips.

“If you do, you’re doing a fantastic job.” He assured you, pulling your upper half down towards him. You rested your forehead on his as you began to rock your hips. “But you exist for far more than that, angel.” He didn’t even care about the slow pace, nor the lack of control. He was so focused on loving you that he could almost forget that he was fucking you. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his eyes drift over the soft details of your face. “You have no idea how important you are, y/n. This world exists just so you can live in it.” Normally, the profound emotions he was displaying would have sent you running, terrified of intimacy and vulnerability. Deep down, you knew that running was not a question anymore. You were in this until the end, and any ideas of having a fair shot at control was just not true. Jake and Sam were always in charge, running the show how they pleased and with little care. Even so, all the pain no longer mattered, because you were in love. So deeply and unconditionally in love with them that it was almost impossible to comprehend. So in love that it was impossible to communicate it, because words did not amount to anything close to what you were feeling.

“Do you see it, yet?” He asked, helping you move your hips. “Do you feel how much I care for you?”

“I do, Jake.” You nodded against him, the verbal confirmation not seeming like it was enough. “I’m sorry for questioning it. I never should have doubted you.” You said, feeling like your heart was going to explode. “I hope you can see that I feel the same way.”

“Say it, Gold Dust Woman.” He pleaded, fingers digging into the skin of your hips. “I need to hear it.”

“Jake,” you warned, knowing that you were both treading dangerous waters.

“Please, y/n. I can’t be the one to say it first, because it won’t mean anything if I do.” You had never seen or heard Jake so desperate for anything in your entire time of knowing him. “If you feel it, just say it. We’ve already said it a million different ways, just not like this. It’s not as scary as it seems, and I swear to you that I’ll keep it safe.” Your heart felt like it was breaking, yet mending all at the same time. He was right, you had said it in every way except for direct, and you were scared of something you had been feeling since the beginning.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, opening your eyes to look at him. He looked up at you, gaze clouded with an unfamiliar emotion. If you looked close enough, you would have noticed the gloss of tears shining under the adoration. “I love you.” You said it again, stronger than the last. “I love you so much that it hurts. I don’t know how to love someone, or what it even means, but I know that I feel it for you, and I have for a long time.”

“I love you, Gold Dust Woman.” You both opted to ignore the shaking of his voice. He moved forward, slinking his arms around you as he pulled you into a hug. You wrapped your own around his neck, holding on to him with the same fervour. He moved so he could lay you down on the mattress, shifting so he was between your legs again. It was his favourite place to be, and even more so now that the weight of the confession had been lifted off your chests. As if he’d turned feral once again, he guided your leg around him and took over control once more. He thrusted into you with more power than before, the feeling eliciting a moan from your lips.

He only continued on his pace for a few moments before his attention was drawn elsewhere. His eyes scanned the room, shining with mischief as they settled on the sliding door to the balcony. “Do you trust me?” He looked back to you with a wicked smile.

“Of course I do,” you gasped, feeling the tip of his cock brush against your cervix.

“I have an idea,” he announced, slowing his hips to a stop. You let out a groan at that loss of movement, unsure if you were willing to go along with his plan if it meant you had to stop. “Come on,” he said, drawing back from you and making a move to stand. You watched him in confusion, but sat up and slid off the bed anyway.

“What are we doing?” You asked as he helped you stand.

“You told me you loved me, Gold Dust Woman.” He reminded. “I think that calls for a celebration.” He guided you towards the doors, using his free hand to slide it open.

“Jacob, absolutely not.” You recoiled, staring at the dark balcony with wide eyes.

“Oh come on, angel. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He smirked.

“What if someone sees us?” Your voice was shrill, terrified at the thought of being caught.

“Just means I get to show the world how much I love you.” He said, the smirk growing into a smile. You watched him in disbelief, unsure if he was even being serious. “Get out there, sweetheart.” He ordered, the flash of dominance returning to his lust clouded pupils.

“I don’t want to get caught.” You shook your head, but still found yourself admiring his beauty in the dimly lit room. You were certain that he had the power to convince you to jump from a cliff if he looked at you for long enough.

“Then you better keep quiet and cum fast.” He was no longer willing to debate the topic, watching you with expecting eyes. You knew the softness would not last long, but you had no idea that it was turn into a show of exhibitionism. He gave you a look of warning, to which you couldn’t deny. You stuck your head out of the door, noticing that none of the other patios seemed to be occupied. Next, you looked to the ground, noticing the minimal movement below. The world was quiet, and there was no better time to explore pleasure like such. With a deep breath and an air of blind confidence, you stepped out into the night, the cool air stinging your warm skin.

He followed, seeming barely concerned about your surroundings. He let his hands slip to your hips, giving you a small comfort in knowing that if you were going to be caught, he would have to take the fall with you. “See? You’re okay.” He assured you, mouth hovering over your ear. You gave a small nod, allowing him to guide your upper half down and pull your hips back towards him. You gripped the rail of the balcony with your hands to keep yourself steady, feeling himself line himself up with you. “If you want to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling a bit more comfortable than you were when you first emerged. With a hand on your shoulder, he pulled you back on him, letting out a small sigh of relief. Once he knew you were steady in your position, he brought both hands to your hips to hold you in place as he began thrusting. Your eyes were begging to close, lulled by the ecstasy of feeling him inside you, but your mind would not allow it. You were on edge, nervous about someone seeing you, but the more he fucked into you, the less you cared.

You let a moan slip past your lips, quickly silencing yourself with hope that it went unnoticed. “That’s my girl,” he purred, ecstatic at your enjoyment. “Do you like being a little whore for me?” His voice was low, but it was loud and clear to you. It settled deep in your stomach, the beginning of the tightening knot.

“God, yes.” You whispered, the anxiety fleeing you indefinitely.

“Feel so fucking good, angel.” He took a sharp intake of breath, likely cutting off his own sounds of pleasure. He slipped his hand around to the front of you, quickly finding your clit with his fingers. The added stimulation from the circles he was tracing were means of torture. He knew that it would be impossible to stay silent, and he was being an asshole on purpose. He sped his hips, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the empty air. If there was anyone below, it would not be difficult to imagine what was happening above. He increased the pressure of his touch, hoping that he would either coax an orgasm from you, or at least pry another moan out of you.

You clenched your jaw, holding back as much as you could, but every so often a noise too strong to hold back would surface and cut through the silence. He felt you clench around him, a sure sign that you were close, and he wasn’t one to miss an opportunity. He slammed his hips into you, quickening the movement of his fingers. You were lightheaded, mind swirling with plenty of thoughts but none that made any sense. “Cum on my cock, baby.” He muttered, encouraging you to let go. You didn’t need the help, because the knot in your belly had let go. You legs were shaking and you could barely hold yourself up. He used his hand to cover your mouth, ensuring that you could ride out your orgasm without worry. When you began to descend from the euphoria, you expected him to slow, too. Instead, he continued on his brutal pace, not ready to end the night just yet. “Give me one more, sweetheart.”

“I can’t, Jake.” You whimpered, trying to keep yourself silent. The more he moved, the less control you had over yourself.

“You can,” he promised. The irritating sensation from his fingers was overtaking every other feeling in your body, the overstimulation begging to break your psyche. “Be good for me,” he continued with his gentle words, knowing that if you didn’t let go soon, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Your body was on fire with everything he had put you through that night, and his wish was not hard to comply with. Even though the feeling of his fingers seemed like too much, you couldn’t deny the pull of pleasure underneath the discomfort.

“Fuck,” you croaked, the insatiable sting finally overwhelming your body in a moment of weakness.

“That’s it, sweet girl.” He sighed, feeling you descend into another climax. He was most concerned with holding your body upright, so he had to forgo silencing you with his palm. You were too far gone to care about keeping yourself quiet, the fear obsolete next to the pleasure he was giving you. In a mess of curses and sweaty bodies, you came down from the high with stars dancing in your eyes. When he felt you relax against him, he finally allowed himself to let go, spilling into you as he echoed your name into the night. He fucked his release into you a few times before pulling away, just as a final note to end the night with. He heaved a sigh, coming back to reality and realizing the obscene display you were in. “Come on, angel. Let’s get you inside.”

You let him lead you back into the hotel room, body and mind exhausted from the high energy the night held. You both cleaned up, minds begging for sleep, but found that your hearts were aching just a little less than before. Jake pulled on his boxers, lazily throwing his shirt to you while he did so. “Are you staying?” You looked up at him, hope gleaming through the exhaustion.

“Of course I am, baby.” He said as if the question were blasphemous. You slid under the covers, making room for him to get in beside you. Once he was settled, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Jake. I never should have said that stuff.”

“I am, too.” The apologies were minimal, but stronger than they appeared. You closed your eyes, settling your head on his chest and listening to the lull of his heartbeat. “Can you say it again?” He asked, voice quiet and barely breaking through the night.

“That I’m sorry?” You asked, wondering what he meant.

“No,” he mumbled. When you realized what he wanted to hear, your heart warmed at the thought of him wanting to hear it again. All of your fears of rejection, the fear of intimacy and vulnerability was no longer important. From the sound of his voice alone, you knew that his need to know you cared was far more important than your attempts at protecting yourself.

“I love you, Jake.”

And there it was; the statement so heavy that it had tantalized you for months, slipping past your lips like the easiest thing you had ever said. It was true, and it was so exhilarating to finally speak aloud.

But even so, as exciting as the proclamation was, it did not hinder you from falling into the same patterns as you had before. If anything, it did nothing but make it all the more painful.

You better put your kingdom up for sale

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 59 Translation [Lucien’s Route (2/3)]

⚠️  SPOILER ALERT  ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

"Perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow"... could he have already foreseen tonight's situation?

I will never allow anyone to hurt Lucien.

Translation under the cut!

[Previous Part-> Click Here]

—[Lucien's Route - 6: Crimson Stained Pool]—

Baldhead: Hey, you've all seen it, right? Tonight, we're going to kill that uncle!

As soon as night falls, Baldhead eagerly states his intention. We follow him towards the older man's room, but Mousy looks a bit confused.

Mousy: Why... is there something wrong with that uncle?

Baldhead: How can you be so dumb! That old man is indeed very active in discussions, and just like X said, it seems like he wants to have some control over the conversation.

Baldhead: But later, he didn't raise his hand immediately. Didn't you find that strange?

MC: Mm... it seems like he's a seer who isn't good at hiding his identity, subconsciously excluding himself from the "people who need to be verified.”

Baldhead: Not bad. MC gets it.

Baldhead: That old man is too unfamiliar with the game. He doesn't realize that we are watching every move he makes. Got it?

Under Baldhead's forceful words, Mousy only dares to nod timidly and follows our steps forward.

Tonight's operation was very successful. Everything goes smoothly, from opening the door to throwing the uncle into the pool.

Sweeping away the strange events of last night, the three of us werewolves see a look of satisfaction on each other's faces.

The clear water surface is dyed red again, and the pool emits that inexplicable light before dimming. I look at my two teammates.

MC: Today, I was the first to raise my hand. The others probably won't suspect me too much. So I plan to…

MC: ...take the uncle's place and act as the seer.

✂———————–

The next morning, there's a knock on the door again. I open it and effortlessly slip into the embrace of the person standing there.

MC: Hmm, I feel like my headache has eased... Is Professor Lucien still acting as the alarm clock in the game?

Lucien rubs my head and, seeing that I am indeed much better than yesterday, sighs softly and holds me even tighter.

Lucien: [chuckles softly] Yes. It's a hidden feature that's only available to a certain little lady who worries me.

I smile and bury my face in his chest. His shirt presses against my cheek, and his warm body temperature melts away all my stress.

Whenever I embrace Lucien, it seems I can break free from my werewolf role and reconnect with the real world.

At this moment, I only wish this moment could last a little longer.

✂———————–

When the butler knocks on the door for the third time, I reluctantly pull Lucien out of bed.

[....is 'doing it' possible in VR. anw man really sneak out so early to sleep together with her hjdfjhdfjdf-]

MC: Alas, it's time to go to the banquet hall for another "meeting" again~

MC: Such a magnificent banquet hall. It would be so nice just to eat and drink inside, but it's always a war of words every time.

Lucien straightens my crooked collar, unable to hold back a smile as he takes over the conversation.

Lucien: [chuckles] Indeed, it seems that in this villa, being the "butler" is much happier than being the "guest.”

Lucien: They neither "lose their life" nor miss the chance to enjoy the sea view every day.

As we pass the uncle's room, I see his name has already been crossed off the door plate. Lucien and I don't stop; we head straight to the banquet hall.

After the luncheon begins, I take a deep breath and stand up.

MC: Everyone, I am actually... a seer.

I say these words rather haltingly. Although I don't look at Lucien, I can feel his scrutinizing gaze.

.......This is really nerve-wracking; I'm so anxious.

Almost everyone present holds their breath, watching me and waiting for my words. I compose my expression, speaking in a serious tone.

MC: On the first night, I checked White Angel. She is a good person, so I didn't rush to reveal my identity.

MC: And yesterday, the uncle was very active but didn't raise his hand immediately, so I found him suspicious.

MC: I checked him last night, and the result showed he was human. I planned to clear his name today but didn't expect him to become the werewolves' target.

MC: Although I haven't identified a werewolf yet, I'm afraid that if I don't reveal my identity today, I might be replaced by a werewolf…

Baldhead: Wait a minute, you say you're the seer? Who knows if it's true or not!

Baldhead: Is there another seer here? If so, speak up!

Baldhead questioned me as I planned to solidify my identity. Sure enough, no one else steps forward.

.......We bet correctly! The uncle really was the true seer!

I try to control my racing heartbeat and calmly observe the reactions of the others.

Angel: If MC were lying, the actual seer would have come forward. There's no mistake. She is the seer.

White Angel is a petite girl. After speaking, she looks at me with a smile, her eyes showing evident affection and trust.

I smile back at her, barely able to contain the overwhelming joy inside me.

Let's let it unfold this way. Now that there's no one to contradict it, no one can expose this "lie" that has become an established fact!

Joker: Anyone could be a wolf, and everyone could be lying.

Joker speaks coldly, pouring cold water on my overwhelming joy without mercy.

Joker: To place all your trust in an unverifiable statement is the height of foolishness.

MC: …..

I secretly grit my teeth. I know that he wouldn't let me off the hook so easily!

I hold back my anger and calmly return a smile at him, but suddenly, a long-haired man on my right side stands up.

Long-haired man: My intuition tells me that MC is lying. We should vote her out!

MC: …..?

Long-haired man: When she mentioned the inspection results, it was as smooth as if she had rehearsed it. Her emotions were clearly acted out!

His eyes are filled with conviction, and his tone is rhythmic and compelling…

If only his rousing words weren't directed at me.

I nervously organize my rebuttal, and even my breathing becomes messy.

How come so many people in this game seem to have mind-reading abilities? How are we ordinary people supposed to keep playing?!

Lucien: Can you listen to my thoughts first?

At that moment, Lucien suddenly breaks the stalemate, standing between me and the long-haired man like a fair and just judge.

Lucien: Voting for execution is the only way to punish the wolf in the game. You can't make a decision based solely on revealed roles or doubts.

Lucien: However, the associated risks cannot be ignored. So, for this vote, please consider which person would benefit the current human faction more.

His words are neither biased nor include his judgment; he simply organizes everyone's thoughts.

I look at Lucien; his gaze is as clear as ever, without any unnecessary emotions.

Because of my prolonged gaze, he even tilts his head slightly as if asking me what's wrong.

I force a smile at him, trying my best to ignore the strange feeling in my heart.

Lucien... he must be secretly speaking up for me, right?

After all, under his guidance, the focus of the discussion has shifted from whether my role as a seer is real or fake to whether the long-haired man or I should be voted for.

The long-haired man clearly did not expect to become a suspect himself, and his voice is filled with frustration.

Long-haired man: I've been a stage actor; you shouldn't doubt my professional judgment! Do you think I can't tell the difference between acting and reality?

After a moment of silence in the room, Zhao Jianqiang, whose nameplate read “Strongman” ("Qiang Lai Le"), cautiously glanced at me and spoke.

[T/N: so……… how do I explain this joke? "Qiang Lai Le" comes from the phrase "你的强来了" (nǐ de qiáng láile), which literally means "Your strength is here." It's a buzzword that roughly translates to "I'm here to support you." This perfectly coincides with Zhao Jianqiang stepping in to support the MC right on time~]

Zhao Jianqiang: But if you're an actor, shouldn't your acting skills be better? According to what you're saying, you yourself seem more suspicious…

Angel: The person that she checked last night died this morning, and she still needs to disclose their identity. If it were me, I would also need to prepare a statement in advance.

Granmeow: Reality isn't a script. It's natural for people to get nervous when they're suspected.

The man with long hair's face turns extremely unpleasant. No matter how much he argues, others only become more firm in their thoughts.

The final outcome is beyond doubt; he becomes today's victim.

This time, people left the banquet hall early, one after another. After all, no one wants to see such cruel scenes again.

I turn around and take a glance. The man with long hair has already disappeared into the pool. I then turn back and walk towards Lucien.

Lucien doesn't mention the "bloodbath" at the banquet. He simply raises his arm, inviting me to join him.

Lucien: There's still some time until nightfall. Do you want to explore the mansion together?

MC: Of course!

I loop my arm through his, deciding to cast aside the worries in my heart and savor the rare moment of being together with Lucien.

Outside the window, the clouds press lower and lower, blending the sky and the sea into one in the mist.

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 7: Unspoken Feelings]—

Lucien and I walk along the intricately decorated corridors of the mansion, occasionally encountering other players who are also searching.

When we run into Zhao Jianqiang, I notice his complexion is a bit pale.

MC: [worriedly] Why do you look so pale? Do you need to rest?

Zhao Jianqiang: I'm fine, boss, just a bit of a headache…

MC: .......I also feel a headache, "Carnival Night" is quite a brain teaser to play.

I make sure he doesn't have any other symptoms for the time being and reluctantly feel a bit relieved. After asking the butler to help him rest, I continue on my way.

Although the mansion covers a vast area, there isn't much valuable information to be found.

Lucien and I stroll to the master's room. The tightly closed door is pushed open, and the heavy, wet sound echoes for a long time.

We both instinctively hold our breath and stand still.

In the pure white space, all that can be seen are clear waters. Rather than a bedroom, this place resembles an abandoned swimming pool.

The pool water gently ripples as if whispering or subtly warning, exuding an indescribable sense of cold and desolate beauty.

The snow-white walls and the bottom of the pool reflect a cool-toned light, and the space ahead seems like an endless liminal space.

Standing at the pool's edge, I suddenly feel an inexplicable attraction and deep fear, almost uncontrollably wanting to step into the water.

A hand wraps around my waist from behind, lifting me slightly off the ground. My toes trace a light circle in the air before I return to the floor.

MC: ….!

It is only then that I come to my senses and look at Lucien.

His gaze falls on the calm and mysterious blue pool water, then he looks at me and blinks somewhat pitifully.

Lucien: Does this lady want to explore alone and not take me with her?

Whenever Lucien speaks to me in this tone, my heart becomes completely soft.

So, I quickly dip my hand into the pool and sprinkle some water near Lucien.

MC: How could I not? Of course, I have to bring our Mr. Hunter along!

MC: I always feel like this mansion is so mysterious... Maybe there are some secrets hidden deep in this room as well.

MC: Will you go into the water with me to take a look?

Lucien and I intertwine our fingers together, and we slowly step into the pool, letting the cool water surround our ankles.

Step by step, we move forward. The pool water gradually rises to our knees, then our waists, gently pushing against our bodies as if guiding us to go deeper.

Lucien: Be careful, there are steps here.

After stepping over the underwater steps, the water reaches just below my chest. This is nearly the lowest point of the room, and my foot suddenly hits something hard.

Lucien reaches out and retrieves it. It's a metal box filled with yellowed pages that seem out of place in this mansion.

What is even more surprising is that the pages are completely dry, and they recorded some legends about an ancient underwater god and some incomprehensible ancient rituals.

A secluded mansion built by the seaside, with water visible everywhere inside, had an execution method of throwing people into the pool…

A series of clues appeared in my mind, and although they seem all related to my personal mission, they still leave me a little puzzled.

I hide my thoughts and cautiously phrase my question to Lucien.

MC: I don't quite fully understand all this information. Could this mansion be related to some kind of water ritual?

In the boundless pool, cool-toned light dances around us. The surroundings are so silent that only our faint breathing and the rippling of the water can be heard.

Lucien spreads out his hands and reaches into the pool water as if feeling this calm yet eerie expanse.

Lucien: These texts describe an ancient water ritual, and the design of the water channels in this mansion is also related to it.

He gently scoops up a handful of water and lets it fall back down, causing the light and shadows in the water to shift accordingly.

Lucien: I guess that with each person pushed into the water, a part of the ritual is completed.

MC: ...No wonder, when those people fell into the water, it was as if they were swallowed up by something, and the water emitted light!

Lucien: Hmm. So as long as we can draw the design of all the water channels connected in this mansion, we might be able to understand some things.

A meaningful smile appears on his lips, making me unable to resist asking further questions.

MC: Understand what?

Lucien: The truth behind the ongoing werewolf killings in this villa, the consequences of completing the ritual, and…

Lucien: The reason why the mansion's owner has yet to appear.

I am listening intently to his deductions while secretly plotting how to sacrifice everyone in the ritual.

But upon hearing the last sentence, I suddenly feel so guilty that I almost buckle and fall into the water. Quickly, I lower my head and change the subject.

MC: T-this is so dangerous! Let's quickly map out the pool structures in all the rooms and have everyone look for patterns together.

Lucien, who is standing in front of me, says nothing. When I look up, I realize he is silently gazing at me, his expression stern and cold.

Lucien: There is another possibility; perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow.

MC: ….

I understand what Lucien means. Given his role as a hunter and outstanding performance over the past few days, tonight, he will likely be the werewolves' target.

I look at his faint, acquiescent expression, and suddenly, a heaviness settles in my heart.

I know that Lucien must have noticed my unusual behavior long ago.

I have never been good at lying in front of him. He must have already discovered the nights I secretly hid and the moments I was startled by my own cruelty.

I don't know how to respond to him. I should appear worried, but I want to tell him that the vicious "werewolf" never intended to kill him.

I also don't know whether I should continue enduring alone and playing this slightly strange role or be honest with him about everything.

Various possibilities tug at my mind, leaving me frozen in place. I don't know what expression is on my face, but it must be very odd.

A moist finger touches my cheek, and I tremble. I see that Lucien has already come to stand before me at some point.

Immediately after, he opens his arms and envelops me in a hug, covering up the response that I can't weave.

Lucien: [softly sighs, then whispers gently to comfort] Don't be afraid, we will make it to the end.

Amid the hallucinatory light reflections of the water, I am entranced, silently confiding all my anxieties and worries to Lucien through the long embrace.

✂———————–

["Perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow." MAN 🤧🤧🤧 In addition to trying to probe her again, just like when he asked if she would lie to him, he predicted that other werewolves would definitely pressure MC. The outcome of this night would give him some kind of answer, and he couldn't help but secretly feel unease and grievance, which ultimately turned into a soft sigh as he comforted her again. No matter what, he will still respect her choice.]

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 8: Heart Cleansing Cold Spring]—

Baldhead: Why are you thinking about killing Joker again? Did you forget that he was already guarded before? It's all for nothing!

As night falls, Baldhead and I engage in a heated debate over tonight's target for execution.

MC: I revealed myself as a seer during the day, so tonight, the guardian will protect me. Joker is too dangerous, he can't stay.

Baldhead: Then why not kill X? He's so clever. If we leave him till later, it's us werewolves who'll be the victims!

Baldhead: With so many people left, even if X takes someone out with a gunshot before he dies, it might not necessarily be us.

I endure the headache and listen silently, but suddenly, I recall the words Lucien said to me during the day.

"Perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow"... could he have already foreseen tonight's situation?

I will never allow anyone to hurt Lucien.

From the beginning of the game, I've been very clear about my purpose in choosing this game.

Regardless of our roles, winning or losing this game doesn't matter. I want to walk through this game with him until the end.

I take a deep breath, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible.

MC: You must have noticed that X and Joker have a distinctly different attitude towards me.

MC: Joker always shifts the suspicion onto me, while X often speaks up for me. It should be clear who should stay and who should go, right?

As soon as I finish speaking, Baldhead glances at me sideways, pulling a contemptuous smile.

Baldhead: You’re dressing your selfish motives with such grandiose words. Don't think I don't know—you and X know each other, right?

Baldhead: Every time you explore, you two are always together like conjoined twins, never separate. You just want to ensure he can be in the game for a few more days.

I instantly get angry and can't help but clench my fists. Because of self-righteous people like this, I've been having such a hard time playing!

As the atmosphere grows tense, Mousy weakly raises his hand.

Mousy: Um, how about we give up on these two and target someone we are sure to succeed with? After all, reducing the number of humans is our main goal…

We remain at an impasse for a long time, and in the end, we reluctantly draw lots from the remaining candidates and target the inconspicuous Granmeow.

Before we part, Baldhead stands before me and laughs mockingly without a care.

Baldhead: Now, let's see how the “fake seer" will come up with a story tomorrow!

✂———————–

Back in my room, I can't help but angrily pound the bed to vent my frustration.

MC: Damn it, it turns out that he looks down on me!

I toss and turn in anger, but there's nothing I can do because that person is my teammate. It’s only just before dawn that I finally manage to get some sleep.

However, I hadn't slept for long when the door was knocked on. I got up, still sleepy, and found that it was only 6:30 AM.

As soon as I open the door, Lucien walks in, opens his arms, and hugs me.

I initially want to say something, but when he holds me, the exhaustion and headache seem no longer need to be expressed with words.

I can't help but nuzzle his shoulder and mumble as I start to speak.

MC: Why is Professor Lucien the alarm clock going off so early today?

His chest is pressed close to mine and trembles like a resonating violin. Lucien's voice carries an unconcealed note of laughter.

[a fox wagging his tail happily when he finds out in the morning that his wife still wants to play with him.jpg. still, in addition to happiness, he is even more worried about her because it must be hard for her to protect him🤧]

Lucien: When I woke up this morning and found I was still alive, I felt that the little lady might have some troubles.

Remembering the argument with my teammate last night, I have the illusion of being completely seen through by him. So, I look up and poke the smile at the corner of his lips with my fingertip.

MC: It seems Professor Lucien is very happy?

Lucien shakes his head, his long fingers running through my hair, bringing a feeling of comfort to my heart.

Lucien: [in a gentle tone] Although I'm very happy, I'm more worried about you. How are you? Does your head still hurt?

Seeing me nod, he gently presses my forehead, the pressure so comforting it touches my heart. I lie quietly on him, unable to help but sigh.

MC: It's much better now, but... this game is more challenging than I thought. I don't know who I'll have to check next.

Lucien speaks softly by my ear.

Lucien: [whispers softly] Sometimes, to achieve a goal, it is necessary to sacrifice an unstable presence.

Upon hearing his whisper, my relaxed body feels as if it's been jolted by cold water, bringing me to full alertness.

An unstable presence...? This phrase sounds like a subtle hint, making me feel that Lucien truly knows something.

I can't help but look at him, and in those always captivating eyes, there is now only a gentle yet turbulent undercurrent reflected.

Outside the window, raindrops hit the glass, leaving behind glistening trails. After days of cloudy weather, the rain finally fell on the island.

✂———————–

The thunderous sound of waves crashing against the rocks comes from all directions, shaking the entire villa as if it were about to swallow the isolated island whole.

In the banquet hall, I stand up amidst the heavy and terrifying sound of ocean waves.

MC: Last night, I checked the Ferocious and Superior Baldhead. Unfortunately, he is a werewolf.

My accusation sparks a heated discussion, and I stand firmly amidst the flurry of voices.

Just as Lucien said, sacrifice is necessary, especially if it means sacrificing a "bad person.”

Baldhead: Nonsense!

Baldhead's face is full of disbelief as he pushes back his chair and stands up, his chest heaving violently.

Baldhead: This is a setup! I've always been human! How can you say that? You are the wolf!

I know, but so what? Aren't you curious about how I, the "fake seer," will perform today? This is my answer.

I look at him expressionlessly, my tone cold.

MC: As a seer, I'm merely stating the results of my checks.

Baldhead: You!

In the thunderstorm, the flickering cold light covers Baldhead's face, making his expression appear even more ferocious.

A twinge of fear arises in my heart, and I hear Lucien beside me start to speak thoughtfully with his calm voice.

Lucien: Hmm... I see.

Lucien: In the previous rounds of voting, he seemed to use emotional statements to guide the situation but quickly withdrew, avoiding decisive comments.

Lucien: His votes were also decisive, without any hesitation.

Lucien: This way of disrupting the situation without leaving any evidence does indeed seem like…

Lucien swallows the unfinished end of his sentence, and this pause clearly gives people more room for imagination. The others look at Baldhead with increasing conviction in their eyes.

Zhao Jianqiang: He... is the werewolf, isn't he?

Angel: There's no mistake. I trust MC.

More and more people believe that he is the wolf, the evil wolf mingling among the good people.

Baldman’s face is flushed red with anger, and I can even see his teeth gritting through his gaze.

Joker: Even if he is the wolf, you are not necessarily the seer.

Joker suddenly speaks, standing up while leaning on the back of the chair. His emotionless tone clearly conveys his distrust.

Joker: There is also a third possibility.

The Joker squints his eyes, his gaze circles between Baldhead and me, and finally returns to me.

Joker: It’s a dog-eat-dog* situation, a wolf kills another wolf.

[T/N: while 狗咬狗 literally mean “dog-bite-dog”, it's more of a metaphor for the struggle and fighting between bad guys]

MC: ….?

Joker: All of you subconsciously ignored a possibility. The real seer might have already died, and she is a fake.

Joker: If you later find out that the seer you firmly believed in is actually a wolf, there will be no turning back.

On the surface, I smile disdainfully, but in reality, I feel exhausted. He has guessed everything correctly.

Joker really should have been dealt with earlier! He will be executed tonight!

I don't dare let his words go unchallenged for fear that the people present might turn their suspicion towards me, so I can only speak up with “righteous indignation”.

MC: ....After saying so much, where is the evidence? It can't all be your subjective conjecture, right?

MC: Since I revealed my identity as a seer, no one has ever tried to "compete" with me for this identity.

MC: And Baldhead has never made any notable speeches; even if there were a vote, it would never come to him-

I take a deep breath, desperately and silently think of my words, then say them out loud with conviction.

MC: If we are all wolves, as you say, we should be biding our time and hiding our strength even more——

MC: Instead of throwing mud at each other at this moment, causing unnecessary losses to our own faction, right?

I speak convincingly, while Joker remains aloof, indifferently throwing a word.

Joker: Whatever.

In the end, those who were initially hesitant still tend to trust me.

The attendant drags the constantly struggling Baldhead toward the pool. Until the moment he falls into the water, he stubbornly looks at me, his eyes filled with hatred.

I do not respond to his gaze; I simply watch as the clear pool water is once again stained bright red.

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 9: Lectures About "Dreams” (Non-story/a.k.a Stage part)]—

The closest dream represents the most distant thing.

✂———————–

[Next Part-> Click Here]

[hesawifebeaterdanusethegun]

Being With Herr König Part 4:

Part 3

Okay guys, here's part 4, I'm not sure how long this will go, I guess I'll just write until I get to the ending I'm planning. As always, likes and comments are greatly appreciated, you don't know how excited it makes me to get a comment on something I've written or drawn!

Neither of you knew, though you could have guessed, the other had a stressful, sleepless night. You both gave up on even trying to sleep tonight after your encounter. It was already getting light out anyway. You were on your third cup of black coffee when you saw the sun peeking out from behind the thick trees outside the back of your apartment building. You busied yourself doing the dishes, washing your coffee mug and the few other miscellaneous dishes you hadn't deemed worthy of immediate attention the night before.

Your mind was still reeling from König's visit the night before. He'd told you about the creatures he lovingly called his "cuckoos" because of the way they reproduced, he'd explained that he was a part of a small group of those with the resources to conduct large scale breeding experimentation, an elite group that went back hundreds of years at least. He'd said that just telling you this information without express permission could endanger the entire project, but he wanted no secrets between you.

Your mind wandered back to the kiss you'd shared last night just before things got complicated. His lips had been soft, his kiss a bit prickly with facial hair, and he was so gentle, holding you as if you might break if handled too roughly. You found that you much preferred reliving this moment in your head rather than that which came after it.

You decided to take a long hot shower. The shower was one of the places you went to think, it relaxed you and helped you think rationally. You gathered your towel and robe and headed to the bathroom. Hanging the towel and robe on hooks inside the door, you shed your pajamas and set the shower temperature as hot as you could stand before climbing in. The steam instantly cleared your sinuses and relaxed your muscles.

You stayed in the shower until the water ran cold before shutting it off and stepping out of the tub, toweling yourself dry and donning your robe. Making your way to your room you walked through the living room and just for a second and very faintly, you thought you heard a screeching coming from outside, but somewhere far away. You went to your room to get dressed.

Remembering what Herr König had said last night during his unexpected visit, you donned a pair of straight cut jeans, a pair of combat boots, a t-shirt, and an old leather jacket you'd picked up thrifting back home in the U.S. many years ago. You thought that should be warm enough for a forest walk at night this time of year.

He'd told you he would be here at dusk, giving you plenty of time to wrestle with all the thoughts racing through your head since his departure. You made yourself another cup of coffee and took your usual seat at the kitchen table. You thought of these creatures he'd spoken of, these fascinating almost-human creatures. You thought of what König was doing here with his resort and found that you were more amazed and curious than anything else. Any disgust you felt at the ethical violations pushed to the back of your mind, you thought only of König's love and reverence for these animals, and your love and reverence for him.

As you mulled over the events of the past 24 hours, your mind inevitably wandered back to the kiss the two of you had shared last night. You imagined you could still taste him on your lips if you concentrated hard enough. You prayed that it wouldn't be the last time you kissed him, you couldn't bear that.

Just as you noticed the sun had started to set, you heard a car pull up outside. You heard the door open and slam shut and a few moments later someone knocked on your door forcefully, three times. You smiled, knowing exactly who it was just from the knock, getting up from the table and heading from your small kitchen to the door.

Undoing both locks, you pulled the door open revealing a much more put-together Herr König, not a hair out of place as usual. He wore a deep purple button up shirt and brown slacks. Uncharacteristically, he wore very nondescript hiking boots instead of his usual dress shoes or loafers.

"Hi," you smiled at him, a little unsure how to act now that things had changed so much and so rapidly between you.

"Guten abend, mein abendstern," He took your hand, kissing your knuckles and releasing it again. "Shall we?" he gestured out the door and waited for you to pass ahead of him and pull the door shut behind you, locking it as you always did (and would pay extra care to do so from now on) before he started walking next to you to the passenger seat of his car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you to get in, shutting it behind you before heading to his side of the vehicle and climbing inside, starting the engine.

"Are you ready for this? You don't have to do this," he told you. "I understand if it's too much for you to handle."

"No, I want to. I want to know, I want to see and understand this thing that means so much to you. No matter how I feel about it, I know how I feel about you."

He smiled softly, his eyes shining as he looked into yours. He took your hand. "Thank you." he whispered. You smiled back.

He let go of your hand and placed it on the steering wheel before reaching down and pulling the car into gear and leaving your apartment parking lot, headed for the resort. The sun had already sunk below the mountains, casting everything in a dark blue light.

Part 5