#seriously heed the warnings lol

[constantcrisis19]

Hell Is Empty - Part 1

Billy Hargrove x GN S/O

AN: I wanna start off by saying that this is going to be an AU. Also wanna warn people that this is gonna be a pretty dark series, the story takes place in modern day with Billy already dead, having died at 17 in 1984. So if the premise interests you, I encourage you to check it out. More in depth warnings below.

Word Count: 2,796

Warnings: Major character death, child abuse, murder, graphic depictions of violence, alcoholism, bittersweet ending.

You reluctantly switched your foot to the brake pedal to slow the car as you cruised by the old, fenced in property, nervously eyeing the silhouette of the building against the indigo sky, grimacing at the ominous sight. 

You had somehow been coerced into visiting the rotting house on Cherry Lane during a party that Tara had thrown at her place, the deafening chants of encouragement and copious amounts of alcohol making you fold like a paper man.

You figured that you and the brave volunteers that offered to accompany you would check out the house and maybe poke around a little until everyone inevitably got bored when they realized that all the rumors about the house were just ghost stories and superstition, but now that you were here, you were starting to regret ever bending to peer pressure and saying yes.

Even Tara’s earlier assurance that she’d already been there once before without incident was beginning to feel less comforting, the entire property looked like a case of tetanus waiting to happen. 

Thankfully, because it had been getting late, you had the frame of mind to take yourself and the four other teens who had decided to accept the dare make a quick pit stop at the hardware store in order to buy some cheap plastic flashlights.

You made sure to park a couple of blocks down so that the car wouldn’t be found by any police that might patrol the area because of the stories that circulated around town. It was no secret that the house was a kind of hotspot for thrill seekers and trespassing delinquents alike and not even the amount of people who went missing upon entering the property seemed to be a deterrent. 

You carefully made your way up to the fence that surrounded the property, making sure to keep an eye out for approaching headlights as you scaled the chain link and dropping down onto the tall, unkempt grass, brushing your hands off on your jeans before directing the beam of your flashlight toward the house while you waited for the others to join you. 

Though, even with his flashlight, you couldn't see a whole lot of detail, but as you moved closer, you noted that the place was just as people had described. A two story house with dusty windows and peeling white paint on the dirty, time-worn walls. 

It had clearly been abandoned decades ago, the building left to rot away. 

Once you were all through, Mason boldly took the lead, passing you in order to approach the front of the house. Your stomach dropped to your feet as you tracked his progress, the hair on the base of your neck rising as you suddenly became aware of the distinct feeling of being watched. 

You glanced around, hoping to find the culprit among your small group, but was uneasy once seeing all of them bickering by the front door and facing away from you. You turned your attention to the opaque windows, doing a double take when you thought that you saw a silhouette standing there.

You were startled by a loud crack, whipping around to look for the source of the sound only to sigh a breath of relief when you realized that it was just one of your idiot friends noisily breaking the rusted padlock that was meant to keep people out of the house. 

You looked back up at the same window, your brows furrowing in equal parts confusion and worry when the humanoid shadow you saw was nowhere to be seen, and you wrote the entire thing off as a result of the creepy atmosphere making you paranoid.

You stood in front of the looming building, your feet feeling like they were weighed down by lead as you stared at the house, hesitant to enter.  You startled when Mason abruptly whistled to get your attention, waiting until you were looking at him before beckoning you to follow the rest of them inside.

Your throat clicked when you swallowed, trying to shake off the feeling of dread, and marched through the doorway of the ramshackle house with a confidence that you certainly didn’t feel.

The first thing you noticed upon stepping inside was how cold the interior of the house was compared to the humid air outside. It was currently mid July, so despite how late it was, it still felt pretty warm. And yet, despite what logic would dictate, the house felt like someone had left the air conditioning on all day, which should’ve been impossible.

“Hey, isn’t it cold in here?” You pointed out nervously, trying to share your concerns with the others as you crept further into the dilapidated house, but either no one else noticed or no one cared because Tara rolled her eyes while Mason made a dismissive noise.

“Quit reading too much into it. The house is old and drafty.” Was Mason’s flippant response before the subject was promptly dropped. Though, regardless of the fact that the others had brushed off the unnatural chill, you stayed apprehensive about the whole thing. 

The five of you came to a stop only a few yards from the front door -which you had deliberately left wide open- which was kinda at a crossroads, right in the center of the entrances to the living room, second floor and basement.

You took in your surroundings, panning your flashlight across the room and taking special note of the cracked door to your left, the space beyond dropping into a black abyss that your flashlight couldn’t seem to penetrate.

The room gave you a bad feeling that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried.

“Everyone but Y/n, turn off your lights.” Tara commanded and there was a moment of hesitation among the group before Mason sighed and flicked his source of light off, the rest following his example until only yours was left, the soft glow helping to create an eerie atmosphere. 

Tara motioned for you to aim the beam at her and you complied, the shadows cast across her face making her look incredibly sinister. 

“Believe it or not, this house actually used to be occupied just a little over thirty-five years ago.” Tara began, drawing the attention of everyone in the room with her statement. “This dump looks much older than that though, doesn't it? It’s because of what happened here that the older folks refuse to go near here.” 

You felt a bolt of ice crawl down your spine, and somehow you knew that this wasn’t just some campfire ghost story, she was telling the truth. There was just something inherently off about this place, causing you to once again question what the hell you were doing there. 

Inebriated or not, you still had a sense of self-preservation.

“There was a teenage boy -not much older than us- who used to live here with his drunken father. He had a reputation for being a violent delinquent and was kind of a loner at school because of it.” She began, seeming to take pleasure in the group’s growing disquiet. “He would always show up with bruises and broken bones, but he brushed off any questions with stories of getting into fights or being clumsy on the rare occasion that an adult asked about them.”

“Of course, all of them knew that he was lying through his teeth, but they just didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He was already disliked among most of the school, so his situation was just ignored by the community.” She shrugged and her words struck a chord with you. You knew a little something about fading into the background. 

You flinched when you heard a loud creak that originated from deep within the house, the sound catching you all off-guard. You all collectively startled at the noise, heads whipping around to try and identify the source as Tara gave a nervous laugh, stuttering through her next sentence. 

“One day he just...didn't come to school and over a week passed before anyone bothered to look into his disappearance. When the police finally stopped by his house, what they discovered was the most horrifying thing they'd ever seen.”

You heard Nicole -who was standing next to you- audibly swallow, Jade shuffling closer to her boyfriend Mason, the oppressive tension winding tighter and tighter until it felt like a noose around your throat, constricting your airway.

“You see, the father owned a wood chipper that he would rent out. When it wasn’t in use he kept it stored away in the basement since there was a garage door there that made it easy for him to take it out when he needed it.” Tara continued as her gaze anxiously flicked over to the room on her left, and you felt your stomach churn, the acidic burn of bile rising to the back of your throat. 

You had the feeling that you knew where the story was going and it was nowhere good.

“The teen’s dad had gone too far one day, beating the teen to death before disposing of the body in the wood chipper out back.” Tara’s smile was bitter-sweet at the various horrified reactions you all gave her before letting the other shoe drop. “At least, the father believed that he'd beaten the boy to death. In his drunken haze the man didn't realize -or just didn't care- that his son was actually still breathing. Poor kid was just unconscious.”

Your eyes widened, your breaths coming faster as your hands began to shake, making the beam of your flashlight subtly wobble. Your vision blurred with the threat of tears and you lifted a hand in order to rub at your face, hoping to clear your vision and giving you a moment to collect yourself.

You could only hope that the teen had stayed knocked out throughout the whole process, though that horrible little voice in the back of your head argued that -if his father had been half as sadistic as Tina’s story implied- then the man more than likely put the teen in feet-first and no one would be able to remain unconscious through the utter agony of being torn to shreds.

A distant bang startled the group, your head whipping around to look at the cracked door fast enough to leave you dizzy, simultaneously turning your meager beam of light to the basement door. You stubbornly kept your eyes locked onto the door even as Tara kept talking.

“With no evidence of any wrongdoing -and a lot of rumored hush money- the father got away with murder and the wood chipper was left to rust, never to be used again. And that's where it is. Just beyond that door are the steps leading into the basement where the murder weapon is.” Her voice was low and chilling, nearly a whisper as she directed a perfectly manicured finger at the door that you were currently staring at.

“But the legend doesn't end there. It’s said that the father went mad. Whether the insanity stemmed from grief or guilt or something else entirely, no one knew but it’s said that he would rant and rave to anyone who would listen about hearing footsteps every night, the voice of his son whispering to him and trying to lure him down into the basement.”

Your free hand darted up to rub at the back of your neck in an attempt to ease the way that the sensitive skin there prickled when Tara paused for maximum dramatic effect, the other girl taking a deep breath -as if she were bracing herself- before speaking again. 

“And that’s where the father was discovered. Well...what was left of him.” 

You could tell that the others were getting as nervous and paranoid as you the longer that you all stayed in the house and listened to Tara’s appalling story. Which, by itself, would’ve been more than enough to put everyone on edge, so the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded you was decidedly not helping.

It felt dark, angry and cold, almost as if the house itself were alive and furious on the dead teen’s behalf. 

Seemingly oblivious to the threatening aura around them, Tara valiantly soldiered on through the rest of the tale. “Then one night, the father -worn down from his son’s endless torment- finally caved and joined his son in the basement, where he was then forced to go through the same thing that had been done to the teen, only the vengeful spirit made sure that drunk bastard stayed awake.” 

“And all that was left of the man when the police finally went to investigate his sudden disappearance, was the gore-splattered wall of the basement. Though the town kept it quiet, turning the entire thing into a scary story people tell their children when they’re misbehaving.” She said, her voice soft and careful as if she were worried about someone listening in.

You opened your mouth to suggest cutting this little meeting short in order to leave when you noticed movement in the beam of his flashlight, your jaw snapping shut with an audible click. And, to everyone’s utter horror, the door to the fucking basement began to slowly creak open. 

All of you froze like a deer in headlights, the room’s temperature dropping to arctic levels when a tan hand wrapped around the edge of the frame, wild blond curls coming into view as the figure began to lean out of the doorway.

Tara’s face blanched of color, eyes widening as she recognized who or what was standing in the door frame. The teen had a curly blond mullet and piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow unnaturally in the shadows as his gaze raked over each of you, sizing you up. 

Or memorizing your faces. A voice in the back of your head unhelpfully whispered. 

You could feel your hands begin to tremble and you curled your free one into a fist as the other one clutched the flashlight like a lifeline. Using your desperate grip to ground you against the odd aura he exuded, you felt like you were drowning under the disorienting mix of instincts simultaneously telling you to run away and move closer.

And despite the fact that you were the closest to the basement entrance, the blond’s didn't even acknowledge your existence, instead his sole focus was on Tara. A wide grin stretched across his face, twisting his handsome features into something nightmarish as he practically preened under everyone’s blatant fear of him. 

The teen never once spoke, just silently lifted a hand to crook a finger at Tara, beckoning her to follow him and -to your utter shock- she did. Seemingly satisfied, the blond disappeared back into the darkness, leaving Tara to follow after him. 

Her movements were jerky and awkward, as if she were a marionette being controlled by invisible strings, her eyes panicked as she moved toward the basement door. 

You didn’t move to help because you simply couldn’t. It was as if your feet had grown roots, tethering you to the floor so you could do nothing but watch as Tara voluntarily walked to her death. 

The girl sobbed as she passed through the open doorway and out of view, forcing you to rely on your hearing to track her footsteps as he descended the stairs. A few short seconds -that felt like an eternity- Tara let loose a blood-curdling scream, followed swiftly by the sound of blows landing and slurs being yelled out over her agonized cries. 

Yet...no one moved.

It wasn’t until the wood chipper roared to life that you were suddenly free from whatever had held you in place, the four of you that could get away sprinting out of the house in a panic. 

Though, because you were the furthest away from the exit, you couldn’t leave fast enough to be spared the worst of it. The screams of your friend rang out above the deafening rumble of the machine -shrill and terrified- before abruptly cutting off, ugly wet sounds taking its place. 

You burst out the front door just in time to see Mason help Jade over the fencing, the former reaching the top of the chain link barrier as you hit the fence, causing the metal to rattle, before you begin to climb. 

You dropped down to the other side and hit the ground running, following the retreating backs of the others as you made the long sprint several blocks back to the car, your shaking hands fumbling to get the keys out and unlock the doors to let everyone to themselves in before hitting the gas and putting the old house on Cherry Lane in your rear view mirror.

[illubean]

Can you write a scenario/headcannons where the hxh characters have a crush on Zoldyck!reader? (I think reader would have such overprotective brothers, killua and illumi lol)

HXH with a crush on Zoldyck!reader

Characters: Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladaknight, Chrollo Lucilfer Type: Fluff?, Headcanons, Gn!reader

why is illumi the only one with eyebrows and a mouth in this photo

Warnings: none

Kurapika Kurta

out of his two older friends Killua thinks Kurapika is the better option

but he still doesn't like the idea of you dating anyone

like his dear older sibling is giving their attention to someone other than him? unacceptable!

Kurapika is a lot more reserved with his feelings than Leorio, leaving not much room for Killua to meddle

so the younger boy just watches from afar

he gives the blonde glares and intense side eyes, and when he feels he's getting too close he won't hesitate to swoop in and steal you away

Kurapika is pretty smart so he's probably found a few ways to get around your brother

after a while of you two talking without Killua's knowledge you eventually get together

one day he caught you two holding hands under a table at the diner or sitting at a bench

he actually screams

with erratic gestures to your guys' hands he's like "WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN"

the boy is slack jawed

he thought he did such a good job keeping you separated

"watever just...don't hurt them or anything!"

Leorio Paladaknight

Killua's first reaction to learning this information is "No way, you're too old for my sibling!"

Killua babes he's only like 19

Leorio is by no means subtle with the way he feels about you even if he thinks he is

Killua makes it his life mission to keep you separated 💀

The group is splitting up and Leorio volunteers to go with you? So does Killua. He wants to sit next to you on the train? Aw too bad, your little brother is already sitting there

but if by some miracle you get away from your brother he doesn't waste a single moment in asking you out

after learning that his attempts to keep you separated failed, Killua gets a little pouty

"Seriously? You chose THIS guy!?" "What the hell is that supposed to mean you little shit!"

knowing you guys got together doesn't stop the boy from trying to get in the middle of things though

he's a pro at this point

he will find a way to crash literally any date you plan on going on soo you guys gotta be secretive about it

you probably had to come up with code words in order to plan dates 💀💀💀

Chrollo Lucilfer

the only way I see this working is if you were already part of the troupe so lets go with that

out of literally anyone on the planet he just HAD to have a crush on a Zoldyck

to say your family wasn't pleased would be an understatement

especially Illumi

the Zoldycks typically don't do -ships...like friendSHIPS or relationSHIPS so Chrollo pining for you is definitely an issue

and when two of your brothers end up joining the troupe after you

let's just say Chrollo isn't having the best time.

Kalluto is a lot less aggressive or opinionated on the matter than his eldest brother, but he still isn't fond of the idea of you ending up with the leader of the phantom troupe

he finds ways to draw your attention away from Chrollo

whereas Illumi isn't so passive

if he catches the head of the spiders so much as glancing at you he's going to stand in his line of vision with a stern "Stay away from my sibling."

and just to keep things easy on himself Chrollo heeds these warnings

well..until he's able to catch you alone

you guys are gonna have to date on the dl and be SERIOUSLY sneaky

dating while coming from a family of assassins is not an easy feat

In conlusion alongside being professional assassins, the Zoldyck boys are also professional cockblockers

[magicalbats]

Situational Awareness (Dan Heng x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,928

Warnings: afab!reader, some gendered language, shower sex, intercrural sex, thigh fucking

A/N: I've been working here and there on a few different projects (including my long overdue Kinktober pieces, worry not!) but in terms of standalone fics I figured this one was done so I may as well post it. Am I doing so at six in the morning when no one is awake to see it? Absolutely. lol I'm not a plumber so please don't come at me about the shoddy pipe excuse btw, haha

⭐

The unmistakable evidence of all your fooling around is laying across the floor in the form of hastily dropped, rumpled towels. They’d hit the ground in a disarranged heap after the fall, but were still clean as far as you could tell. Not that you could really ask for more on the off chance that they weren’t considering the fright you’d just given the staff but … 

Hanging your head, you make the conscious effort to draw a deep, calming breath and come down from the strange high you’d slipped into. You were sweating rather profusely, you’re a bit surprised to find. What had gotten into you? Hotel devils? Surely that was about as absurd as someone climbing into an oddly inviting but no less strange closet as if they’d been personally summoned into its dark depths by some higher force, and yet that was exactly what you’d done. There must have been something seriously wrong with you. 

Perhaps it was the Stellaron inside your body causing problems with the electrical signals in its flesh and blood prison. Or maybe you’d hit your head somewhere along the way and the side effects were only now starting to manifest themselves. Your bet was on the tail end of that showdown with the Doomsday Beast back on the space station. 

Either way, you desperately needed to get it together. 

Straightening up, you send a wary look at the closet in question. Its doors were still thrust open from where you’d leaped out of its (frustratingly inviting) maw some moments ago and there was no denying the faint tug of invitation you could feel trying to coax you back inside but you refused to heed its call. This wasn’t the time or even really the place. You’d let it get the better of you once and that was already more than enough. 

“Relax.” You remind yourself as you inch closer to the closet. Resolutely, you reach out and shut the doors. The compulsion slowly fades to nothing and you’re once again left to your own devices. It comes as a great relief. 

A harried sigh escapes you as you bend to retrieve the fallen towels next. Perhaps you should leave a note of apology out for the staff. Who knows what they were saying about you right now, the strange girl who likes to hide in closets and scare the living daylights out of unsuspecting workers. On second thought, though, maybe you should just pretend like nothing at all had even transpired here today. Admitting to your own strange behavior in writing would rob you of any plausible deniability, wouldn’t it?

Turning that over in your head, you carry the small bundle of towels into the attached bathroom. Set them down on the sink and almost walk right back out before realizing that you should probably take a shower before bed. Not only were you covered in a fine sheen of perspiration from your time spent getting all worked up inside the closet but you were also freezing. You hadn’t noticed it when you were still running hot on adrenaline and nerves, but now you were gradually starting to shiver. 

Just how long had you been crouched inside the cramped dark like that? You really had no idea, as if that part of your memory were an empty cavernous void. It could have been only a few short minutes for all you could tell, or it could have been an eternity. It was impossible to say. 

Pivoting, you reach over the tub and wrench the faucet on. The modestly sized room is instantly consumed by the sound of running water as you step back to shrug out of your jacket and take off your gloves. A moment later you test the temperature with your fingers only to snatch them back with a hiss when you find it still ice cold. That certainly wasn’t going to do. 

In total you spend about twenty minutes fiddling with the steel knobs, trying them in this and then that position to no avail. No matter what you did the water never seemed to get any warmer, finally leaving you with no choice but to simply turn the damn thing off. You almost give up right then and there. In fact, you consider it very, very hard. 

But what ultimately stops you from crawling into bed with nary another thought to the matter is the shuddering chill that’s fallen over you without any of the fast pumping excitement to keep it at bay. You weren’t just cold in the way curling up with a thick blanket could help with. It felt like you were right on the verge of slipping into hypothermia. The thought of laying awake all night shivering nonstop did not sound like the best start to this Trailblaze expedition so you decide to try your luck next door with March. 

She opens up on the third knock, wearing her blue bunny pj’s. 

“What are you doing out here at this time of night? I thought you were room service or something!” 

“Sorry.” You offer her a weak smile, fighting to stop your teeth from loudly clattering. “I think there’s something wrong with the tub in my room. All I can get to come out is cold water.” 

March’s brows take an expeditious trip up to her hairline. “No way, you’re having problems too? I thought it was just me but I didn’t want to be a negative Nelly about it!” 

Her arm lashes out like a striking serpent, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you inside. 

The door bangs shut with a certain amount of indignation as she turns to look at you, worry flashing across her expression when she takes in the faint shudder making your shoulders bunch up. Standing this close to her, you can see that her hair is damp. 

“Were you able to take a shower?” 

“Not a very good one! The hot water only lasted for about fifteen minutes before it started to come out freezing cold!” Huffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “This place sure does look fancy but I’m so not impressed. What kind of operation do they think they’re running here, huh? Belobog is way too cold for them not to have working hot water tanks!” 

You consider that for a brief moment. “Maybe that’s the problem? If a bunch of people are trying to bathe at the same time and using up all the hot water - -“ 

“Then they should’ve thought of that before they opened up a hotel! I mean, come on. That’s just common sense, right? And more importantly what’s up with you? You’ve been shivering non stop since I opened the door.” 

Don’t tell her about the closet. Don’t tell her about your exploits inside the closet. Whatever you do, do not tell her about that damned closet. 

“I think the chill is just starting to catch up with me.” You tell her, cool as … erm, ice. “I didn’t notice it too much at first but now I can’t stop shaking. I’d really like to take a hot shower.” 

“I bet.” She murmurs. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Come on, let’s see if mine wants to work!”

Taking your hand in hers, March guides you over to her attached bathroom where she flips on the overhead lights. You’re impressed to find it’s an almost identical copy of yours, just mirrored. Actually, they looked like they were directly adjacent to one another and situated along the same wall. But would that in turn mean … they were sharing the same series of pipes? No, that couldn’t be. Such an obvious structural design flaw would have surely raised some questions, wouldn’t it? 

Your attention thoughtfully drifts towards March as she bends over the side of the tub and smacks the faucet on. A  familiar sense of deja vu comes over you when the gurgling sound of running water rushes in to dominate the air but she doesn’t seem to pay it much mind so neither do you. A few seconds pass before she tests the water, clicks her tongue in annoyance and draws her hand back before trying again just another few seconds later. Truthfully March’s impatience had never been quite so glaring as it is right now.  

“Well, isn’t that just ridiculous!” She at last scoffs, evidently deeming the whole endeavor futile and turning the faucet off again. “It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this place wasn’t so cold. How is anyone coming in off the street supposed to get a good night’s rest if they can’t even have a warm shower?” 

You ponder that question with the same weight and consideration as the last one she’d posed. “Maybe they don’t get many visitors? Just think about it. How many times have we heard now that Belobog is the ‘last bastion of humanity’? They probably don’t get much in the way of tourism.” 

Turning, March pins you with an exceedingly strange look. “I don’t think you’re wrong about that but … wouldn’t that mean they’re mostly just keeping this place running for the sake of it? What a waste of resources.” She gives her head a quick shake. “Wait, that’s not important right now. We need to get you warmed up and safely tucked into bed! Do you want me to go down to the lobby with you to check what’s going on?” 

“No, that’s okay.” You quickly wave that off, feeling more than just a little self conscious about causing her any trouble. “It’s already getting late and you need your rest for tomorrow.  It wouldn’t make sense to waste so much time helping me with this when you could be sleeping instead.” 

“Hey, now. The same goes for all three of us. We’re in this together and you’d better not forget that! I don’t mind lending a hand. We are crewmates after all! 

“Thank you, really. But I’m sure I can figure something else out.” 

“Fine, if you’re sure … but at least stop by Dan Heng’s room and see if he’s in the same boat as us. If not, maybe he’ll let you use his shower tonight?” 

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Consideringly, you start to turn and March follows hot on your heels as you step back out through the doorway. “He went into the room right across from yours, right? Since they’re on opposite sides, maybe I will have better luck.” 

“That’s the spirit! See, you just gotta’ keep your spirits high and everything will work out fine in the end. Isn’t that what they call trusting the process?” 

Pausing in front of the door, you pivot to look back at her. “I don’t think that particular saying applies here.” 

“Oh, whatever. Just go check in with Dan Heng and if he isn’t having any better luck come grab me again, okay? We’ll go down and talk to the receptionist together if we have to!” 

You smile, even though you try very hard not to. “Thanks, March. I really appreciate it.” 

Her voice follows after you as you open the door to see yourself out, a cheerful parting of  ‘good luck!’ following you out into the hall. Of all the warm welcomes you’d been greeted with upon boarding the Express, hers was easily the warmest of them all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to properly repay her for that but you were certainly going to try. 

Out in the long carpeted corridor, you take a measly three steps to cross over to the opposite side and rap at the heavy wooden door. Dan Heng surprises you slightly when he opens up at the very first knock, almost like he’d been waiting just within.  

“Is something the matter?” 

The stark difference in your two companions' greetings makes something warm flicker to life inside your chest. You’d only known them and the rest of the Astral Express crew for a short while now but it was very much in line with what was quickly becoming comforting and familiar to you. March had been proactive and eager to know what you were doing while Dan Heng seemed to have concluded that something must be wrong if you were coming to his room like this. It was oddly reassuring, in a way. 

“This is probably going to sound like a strange question but have you taken a shower yet?” 

A vague look of confusion flashes across his face and then camps there. He was far from the most animated character you’d met on your journey thus far, but there’s no mistaking the look he levels on you now. 

“I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet.” He says slowly. “I was just jotting down some observational notes in my phone to input in the database later. Why?” 

“I don’t have any proof to back it up but I think March may have taken all my hot water. Our bathrooms are right next to each other.” 

Dan Heng’s expression shifts and settles into a perplexed scowl. “Is that why you’re shaking? You’d think a place like this would understand the importance of resource allocation …” Sighing, he steps to the side. “Come in. We can check it together.”

Feeling the pitter patter of hope skip across your ribcage, you step inside with him. He closes the door and turns the lock in place (paranoid or overly cautious?) before leading you over to the bathroom. None of these hotel rooms are particularly big and the two of you are soon crowding around the porcelain tub together. 

A steady turn of his wrist has the water gushing out, the same scene playing out for the third time in a row. Except it doesn’t take long at all for steam to start rising up from the faucet this go around and you feel like you could just collapse in relief. He still had hot water. You weren’t going to freeze to death after all. 

“There,” He murmurs, straightening to his full height again. “Go ahead and take your shower in here. I’ll be in the other room so just give me a shout if you need anything.” 

Dan Heng starts to turn, making your eyes go big and round with surprise. “But what about you? I don’t want to take up all of your hot water.” 

“It’s fine. I can just grab one after you're done.” 

“No, that won’t work.” You insist, reaching over to smack the faucet back off with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “March said she only had about fifteen minutes before the water started coming out cold. I’m not sure how long ago she took hers but when we checked it was still out of hot water.”

“Hmm,” He appears to hesitate at that, his gaze taking on the thoughtfully introspective look you were starting to recognize as the gears in his head turning. “Could it be that they get so few guests staying here that they just closed off some of the hot water pipes to ensure they don’t keep running? It’s not quite cold enough in the city for them to freeze so I don’t think it would hurt anything …” 

“Right?” You lift your brows in emphasis. “If Belobog is the only human settlement on this planet then what’s the point in keeping an entire hotel up and running?” 

“That’s a good point and I wondered about it as well. Unless this hotel was at one time meant to …” Humming softly under his breath, Dan Heng gives his head a slow shake. “No, there isn’t any point in speculating on that right now. We don’t have enough information to start making inferences. Figuring out what we’re going to do about the current problem should be our priority.” 

A quiet beat passes, loud in the absence of running water. 

“We could always shower together.” 

Dan Heng’s head doesn’t so much as move even a fraction of an inch but his gaze snaps up at you lightning fast. The sharp intensity in his eyes immediately makes you regret saying it. Were you being weird again, despite the absence of the closet to facilitate or otherwise encourage your odd behavior? Or was it really the Stellaron mixing up the radio signals in your brain? You weren’t sure what you would do if you managed to scare him off the same way you’d sent the hotel staff running and screaming. 

“Or,” He intones at length. “We could go down to the reception desk and ask them to look into it for us.” 

“March said the same thing.”

“But?” 

You breathe out a quick huff through your nose. “But that sounds like it might take a while. We’d have to explain what’s going on, have someone come take a look at it and then they’d try to fix it. We already agreed that we’ll have a busy day tomorrow so I don’t want to cause any trouble for either of you. Not if I can help it. This would be the faster solution, right?” 

To his credit, Dan Heng’s expression softens in as much as it ever does. Which admittedly isn’t a whole lot, but it’s enough to be noticeable. “You aren’t causing problems for us. Don’t even give it another thought and, please, don’t ever let March hear you say that. I don’t doubt she’d take it upon herself to personally show you just how untrue that really is. That being said though, I can understand the reasoning. Doing it that way would be quicker.” 

“But?” You volley it right back at him. 

“There’s not actually a ‘but’ here. If you’re sure about it then I suppose I don’t mind going about it this way either. It would certainly get both of us into bed far quicker than any other alternative.” 

You don’t exactly understand the eager thump your heart gives at his acquiescence but you allow yourself to smile up at him when the urge suddenly strikes you full force. “Then it’s settled?” 

A curt nod. “Yes, although I do hope you actually know what it is we’ve just agreed to. If you change your mind at any point don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll get right out.” 

“Don’t be silly.” You assure him, reaching for the hem of your loose fitted shirt. “I'd never kick you out like that, Dan Heng. Both of us deserve to go to bed nice and warm, and clean.”

He starts to open his mouth — to say what, you’re not sure, because it catches in his throat when you unceremoniously tug your shirt up over your head in one smooth motion. You lose sight of him for a brief moment through the soft knit cotton and by the time you get it pulled completely off he’s pointedly looking elsewhere. Anywhere but at you. 

“Is something wrong?” You quietly venture, a soft note of uncertainty creeping into your voice now. 

“No, it’s fine. Just … hurry up and get undressed so we can get this over with.” Decisively turning his back to you, he starts to shrug out of his long jacket. You hesitate, looking from him to the shirt balled up in your hands and then down at your own chest. A mild pang of relief comes over you at finding your plain black sports bra very much where it should have been. 

So you hadn’t forgotten to put it on. Good. That could have been rather embarrassing for you. 

In the same breath you abruptly realize that you were about to take it off and get naked in the same room with Dan Heng who was already working to get all of his clothes pulled off too. He seemed to understand that well enough. Perhaps even more so than you actually did. So why had he reacted like that when you’d taken off your blouse? Surely it wasn’t all that strange for someone to disrobe in front of another … was it? 

Pondering this conundrum, you carefully watch Dan Heng fold and set his garments aside on top of the sink one layer and one deliberate motion at a time. His coat and the bracer worn on his right arm make up the bottom of the pile, followed by the lightweight hip guards worn around his waist along with the belt that secured it all. The second skin of his tight black shirt comes off next, revealing a smooth back that flexes powerfully with the overhead motion he uses to get it peeled away. It doesn’t escape your notice that, through it all, he makes a point of not looking at you. All of his attention remains forward and locked on the task at hand, neither uninhibitedly baring himself at you nor stealing any lingering glances in your direction. 

It was almost as if in despite of the shared nudity that was inherent in an arrangement like this, he still wanted to give you your privacy. Or as much of it as one could possibly have when bathing with another person. 

Was that what it was then? The root cause of his reaction was … reticence on his part? You hadn’t stopped long enough to consider that or any of the other potential implications that came with it but it seemed Dan Heng very much had. If he was behaving this way then you probably should be too. 

With that decided, you turn away from him and mimic his actions of neatly folding your top. You don’t have anywhere else to put it though so you have to make do with setting it on top of the toilet lid. The following silence is surprisingly rife with some unnamed tension, interspersed only by the near constant rustle of clothes being removed. Your boots, socks, skirt and underwear are all soon discarded, and you have to try very hard not to look when you hear him shuffle towards the tub again. 

“Ready? I’m going to turn the water back on.” 

“Go ahead.” 

The spout turns with a soft creak and the faucet roars to life, loudly spewing water into the basin. Same as before, and much to your relief, it only takes a few moments for steam to begin wafting up from the noisy deluge and start creeping into your periphery. He quickly smacks the plunger down to redirect the stream to the shower head and the bathroom is suddenly at least two octaves quieter than it was before. You could hear yourself think again. Thank goodness for that. 

Silently, Dan Heng steps in first and you quickly scuttle after him. You weren’t keen on losing out on even a single drop of hot water but your refusal to look up from the floor makes actually getting into the shower a bit of an awkward process. You have to feel around with your foot to figure out how close you are and your big toe hits the side of the porcelain a bit too hard, making you hiss through your teeth. Quickly shaking it off though, you lift your leg and blindly step over the rim. 

Only to slip when you come down wrong on the other side, the slick surface ripping you off balance with a gut wrenching lurch. You collapse forward, arms flailing, but Dan Heng is quick to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Once all I said done, the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is smacking your knee into the wall. 

“Owww …”

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? You could have seriously hurt yourself or broken your neck.” He snaps at you, his tone still as mild as it ever is but there’s no mistaking the sharp bite of reprimand lurking just below the surface. You feel vaguely like a troublesome toddler he’s been tasked with babysitting as he hauls you further into the safety of the tub before reaching up to pull the screen closed with a sound click of his tongue. “I was wondering what was taking you so long to get in but I didn’t expect you to jump without even looking first.” 

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, still trying to keep your eyes averted as you carefully work to get your feet situated under you. “I just — I didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

“My privacy?” He echos you, incredulous. “You should have considered that before you suggested us taking a shower together. It’s a little late for it, don’t you think?”

Cautiously slow, you bring your hands up to brace them across his damp chest and gently push. Dan Heng’s hold on you hesitates and then relaxes, letting you pull free so you can take a step back. That his fingers linger at your forearms as if to steady you, or perhaps catch you should you slip and fall again, does not escape your notice, but you decide not to comment on that just yet. Or maybe ever, depending on how the next few minutes played out. 

“Sorry.” It’s all you can think to say now. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for. While I do appreciate the consideration, there’s no getting around the fact we’re going to see each other naked in a situation like this. It’s okay to look.” 

“But?” You whisper into the steady stream of water coming down at his back. 

“No ‘but’s. I’d much rather you look than hurt yourself.” His hands shift, adjusting to loosely grasp your elbows. When he gently tugs you in closer to him, you acquiesce without a fuss. You hadn’t noticed how big they were until now and that makes for an unexpectedly convincing argument to encourage your compliance. “Here, get under the shower head. We should make sure you warm up enough before we run out of hot water.” 

You can’t exactly argue with that when the rising steam only seems to further highlight just how chilled your skin actually is so you let him get you spun around, trading spots. The steady, hammering rush of warmth hits you all at once as you’re directed into the spray and a violent shudder instantly races up your spine. Whimpering softly, you curl in on yourself as you bring your arms up to wrap them around your upper body. The resulting nudge against painfully hard nipples almost steals the air from your lungs but if Dan Heng notices the way you subtly jolt at the contact he doesn’t show it. 

Evidently oblivious, he reaches up to almost casually palm the top of your head. At first you think he’s merely petting you in an uncharacteristic show of doting affection but you quickly realize he’s helping to work the water into your hair, ensuring it’s thoroughly sodden. Still uncharacteristic, or perhaps unprecedented was the better word, but decidedly nice. 

Very nice, actually. 

“I didn’t take you for the shy sort.” He eventually murmurs, more to himself than to you. No way were you about to pretend you hadn’t heard him though. 

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.” 

“Me?” His blunt fingers pause in your hair. You can feel him peering down at you through the steamy gloom that encompasses the cramped tub but you were still hesitant to lift your eyes and look. There was no telling what you might accidentally catch a glimpse of. 

You really had no idea, truth be told, but given his earlier reaction it seemed like one’s body wasn’t meant to be ogled or stared at. He’d looked away from you for a reason. It only seemed fair if you gave him the same courtesy. 

A terse, silent moment passes. 

Evidently realizing he wouldn’t be getting any further explanation, Dan Heng exhales a quiet sigh into the thickened air before directing his hands down to your shoulders. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair for you.” 

Not only did that sound like a rare, once in a blue moon offer you were sure to never hear again, it also seemed way safer than facing him the whole time. You were already having trouble keeping your eyes from wandering from the single strip of his bare arm you’d settled on, having had no other choice when you were standing so close to each other. 

So you gratefully pivot, giving him your back. Your shoulders start to relax from their defensive hunch now that the warm water is running down your front and slowly seeping into your skin. It seems to feed into the internal temperature of your core as he shifts behind you, reaching around for something out of sight. The next time his hands come up to touch your hair, it’s with a healthy dollop of shampoo coating his palms and fingers. 

A soft sigh of contentment slips out of you as he starts to work it into a nice lather over your scalp, keeping your neck tipped back so he could still work without having to deny yourself the comfort of the shower head. He’s as diligent with this as he is everything else, yet so incredibly gentle about it that you almost start to doze right there on your feet. It felt beyond good. It was amazing. 

“Gotta’ say I didn’t expect this Trailblaze mission to turn out like this.” He says at length, just when you’re starting to really drift off to la-la land. 

Blinking yourself awake, you fix your attention on the ceiling. “Neither did I.” 

“And to think, it’s only just started. You’ll have to forgive me if being I’m too rough by the way. I don’t often groom anyone else’s hair besides my own.” 

“No, it’s perfect.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh but refrains from saying anything further until another minute or two has gone by, and a nice, thick lather has accumulated over the circumference of your skull. “There, that should do it. Turn around again but keep your head tipped back so you don’t get suds in your eyes.” 

Obediently, you move to spin around but you seem to have forgotten something rather important in your drowsy state. Namely your close proximity to one another, how very near you were standing to him. But it’s too late by the time you realize your mistake though, and your tits wetly swipe across the lower half of his chest with a sharp burst of fleshy friction. Both of you draw a quick inhale in near perfect unison at the contact and your eyes pop open where they’d started to slide shut again, suddenly wide awake. 

For the first time since you’d stepped foot inside the shower, you find yourself looking directly up at Dan Heng. His startled expression must surely mirror yours because for a long time the two of you just stare at one another in mute silence. You aren’t sure what to make of this. Not the situation itself or the twisting knot low in your gut. 

You think you should probably take a step back and put some much needed space between the two of you but you don’t get the chance. Unable (or perhaps unwilling?) to find the presence of mind to make your legs move before he reaches up to touch your hair again, you soon find yourself trapped between his arms. He’s got you caged in like this while he dutifully scrubs the shampoo away, evidently too committed to the task at hand to stand down even when a distant note of unmistakable fluster has settled across his normally stoic expression. 

And as if Pandora’s Box had been effectively ripped open, like you couldn’t stop yourself now that you’d already looked once, your eyes start to wander. You take in his usually fluffy hair, now waterlogged and heavy across his brow, and the concentrated set of his mouth. Glancing lower, you can make out how well defined his chest and arms are, much more packed with muscle than one would expect from someone who, according to March, spent so much of his time in the databank room aboard the Express. You’d already seen him in action a handful of times though so it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. He was strong and his firm physique showed that. And even lower than that … 

Your eyes widen at the sight of your breasts squished up against him. No wonder you’d felt that brush of skin on skin in such stunning high definition, even for as brief as it had been. What strikes you more than anything though is how soft and pliable your flesh looks shoved up against his. Where Dan Heng was hard with muscle and unrelenting, your chest was soft and invitingly malleable. A distant part of you innately understood that this was the physical difference between man and woman, the biological indicators of sex. It sparks something in the back of your mind and you fumble to grab hold of it, to comprehend what it means. 

Your frantic internal grasping is interrupted when Dan Heng roughly clears his throat, prompting you to snap your attention up with a little jolt. 

“Just what are you looking at?” 

“N - nothing.” You stammer, suddenly embarrassed. You’re not entirely sure why you should feel hot with shame and something else you can’t quite put your finger on but there’s no denying it’s there. You couldn’t tell if you were about to wilt and wither, or bonelessly melt into him. 

“I think I may have to take back what I said earlier.” He grumbles. “It might be preferable if you don’t look.” 

“Wha - -“

You feel it then. A soft nudge against your lower belly that sends your heartbeat lurching into overdrive and your legs instantly turn limp like overcooked noodles. It’s an entirely instinctive reaction, one you don’t understand anymore than all of the other confusing happenings that have taken place in this hotel bathroom, but when you try to pull away to get a look at what’s tickling your bellybutton, he just clutches at you tighter to keep you in place. 

“Please,” His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as he bends his head close, wincing even while he presses his damp forehead against yours. “Don’t move. Just … stay there until it goes away.” 

His expression is wretched. Dark brows knitted to create a deep wrinkle between them, his eyes so pinched you could barely see the dull blue of his irises through thick lashes. It almost scares you. Almost makes you second guess the wisdom in sharing a shower with someone else. No, that wasn’t quite right. 

It was a man you were bathing with and you were … a woman. That was what made this dangerous and ill advised. That was why he’d reacted the way he had at the start of all this. Oh, how terribly you had miscalculated the full scope of the situation. 

It’s a struggle to swallow down your jittery nerves and find your voice but you finally manage, somehow. “Does it hurt, Dan Heng?” 

“No.” He hisses, contradicting himself and what your eyes were clearly telling you. “This isn’t your fault or your problem. I should have been more cautious, that’s all. It’ll go away in time.” 

You don’t think you very much like the sound of that. “But why? Why does it have to just go away if it’s making you uncomfortable? I can help you.” 

Dan Heng sucks in such a sharp breath you can feel it rattling around inside his chest where you’re pressed right up against him. “Don’t say that.” He croaks. “You don’t know what it is you’re saying.”

“I can learn. You could teach me.” 

“Dammit …!” 

He stiffly shifts his weight then, redistributing his balance to the full center of his body. You got the distinct feeling he was trying to angle his pelvis away from you, to pull it out of reach where he could flag and soften without the close proximity of your body heat there to entice him. You rock with the motion though, follow the movement. Stay pressed against him and reach down with one hand to blindly feel for what was causing him such obvious distress. 

Your wrist bumps against the stiff flesh jutting out from his body, making him groan very low in his throat. It’s easy to find now that you have a general idea and you carefully wrap your fingers around the width of him, surprised yet delighted to find the skin silky soft and smooth. He twitches in your hold and swells, getting harder. Rapidly filling the rest of the way out while Dan Heng holds himself so tightly that you think he might just shatter and break right before your very eyes. You can’t help it though. Not only was curiosity a very compelling factor here but you also cared about him a great deal. The thought of watching your friend and fellow crewmate suffer in silence right in front of you wrenches at your very heart and makes it hard to think rationally. 

And it must be the same for Dan Heng too, because his fingers stay frozen in place as you feel along him. They remain buried in your hair, fervently clutching at your skull, as if you could be the lifeline that would save him but he continues to hold himself back for some reason. It’s hard to say if he’s scared of letting you go for fear of what he himself would do or because he feared what you might do to him with that freedom. He doesn’t try to stop you or pull away though. Just quietly seethes into the scant space separating you as you locate the bulbous head and give it a brief squeeze. That makes a tense shudder work through him, starting in the general vicinity of his hips before racing up to the rest of him. Distantly, you realize that he wants to roll his pelvis forward into the touch, to seek out more and bask in it, but he won’t. 

“Why do you fight it, Dan Heng?” 

He manages to choke out a mirthless laugh, though not without a good deal of effort. “We only just met not that long ago, for starters. It seems rude to act on such impulses given our brief rapport with one another.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

You don’t think you believe that. If he really meant it he would have put an end to it by now, or at least made a greater effort to do so. But he just stands there, softly panting while you follow the length of him down to the base where a thick patch of curls brushes against your knuckles. The weight of him in your hand is surprisingly satisfying and you just can’t seem to stop yourself from exploring him. 

Twisting your hand downward, you find even more satiny soft skin waiting just below and you eagerly curl your fingers around that too. It’s incredibly pliant but he sucks in a sharp, gasping breath in response to being handled and your pulse erratically jumps with a start. 

“Gentle. Those are — sensitive.” 

“I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I could be a lot more careful if I could actually see what I was doing though.” 

A low rumble starts up in his chest, so faint you almost miss it under the constant spray from the shower head. Your whole body flushes, warming to the point of real discomfort but he doesn’t give you enough time to fully process any of it. Not the unexpected noise or the curling tendril of wanting low in your stomach. Not even the fact that you were currently holding the full weight of his manhood in the palm of your hand. 

To your genuine surprise, he starts to pull back. Extricates himself from you with exceedingly stiff motions that leave you fumbling for something to say. Another apology or perhaps a plea. You don’t know which and you never find out, because he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You have no choice but to comply as he guides you forward, pushing you almost right up against the interior wall of the shower and totally disregarding your mouse squeak protests while he does it.

“Stop hogging all the water.” 

You open your mouth to snap back in response but all that comes out is a tiny little squawk of surprise when he pulls you back against him, moulding your wet back to the firm planes of his front. His hands drop to your waist then, taking bruising hold of your hips to press your lower body equally flush with his. There’s no mistaking the press of him now, the way it digs up into your lower back and slides into place along the middle seam of your backside like it naturally belonged there. It's as if you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe when he stiffly rolls his pelvis and grinds into you, somehow hesitant yet eager at the same time, before forcing himself to go still again. 

“Sorry,” He says right into your ear, low and hushed, as the warm spray washes over both of you now. “I thought I could control myself better than this …” 

“It’s okay.” 

“It's not. You only just joined the Astral Express, not to mention you — the way we found you … it feels like I’m taking advantage of the situation but that was never my intention. I swear it.”  

You understood what he meant even if he was reluctant to say it in quite so many words. There was a Stellaron inside of you but beyond that your identity was a complete unknown to everyone around you. Even you couldn’t say for sure who you were or who you’d once been, if you’d ever been anyone at all. That didn’t mean you were without your faculties though. You could still make decisions for yourself and take control of your own life. If that weren’t true then Himeko never would have given you the choice to join everyone on board the Express. This you knew to be true. 

So you pointedly push back on him, meeting his next stiltedly reluctant thrust. Dan Heng’s fingers bite into the meat of your hips in return, clutching at you so desperately you half expect to find bruises blooming in the same spots later on. That doesn’t really matter right now though. What’s most important is not only helping him, alleviating the discomfort that so obviously pains him, but also proving your own autonomy. To him as much as to yourself. 

“It’s okay, Dan Heng. You don’t have to hold back.” 

Groaning softly in what you think must be relief, he huddles close and curls in tight against you. Nuzzles at your temple in a coaxing manner that makes you tip your head back towards him. Water runs down your face in heavy rivulets, matting your eyelashes together, but you pay it little mind. You’re much more interested in the way Dan Heng angles his mouth down and slots it against yours in a kiss that is equal parts tentative and demanding. The heightened state of his emotions is blatant in the hard press of his lips, the hungry pull that makes you want to submit and give him everything he could ever need or want. There’s a distant note of domination lurking under the surface of that heated exchange though, like he was innately drawn to claiming what he wanted for himself, but his level headed manners were still keeping him in check. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. 

You quickly make your choice and bring your hands up to take firm hold of his blocky wrists, making sure he doesn’t try to escape. Not that you actually thought he would when both of you were already in this deep, haltingly moving in tandem against one another, but you didn’t want his polite niceties to get the better of him. He either doesn’t suspect a thing or he simply doesn’t care though, because he just keeps kissing you even when you go up on your tiptoes to make his cock drag down your ass. The height difference makes it a bit awkward, a bit unrefined, but you manage to successfully raise up enough to leave him nudging at the space between your legs. 

And when you come down again, trapping him in the soft squeeze of your thighs, he gasps like you’d just electrocuted him. The sound rattles inside his chest where it’s pressed into your back but, still, he doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t tell you to stop. Rather, he drags his palms lower to grab two big handfuls of your upper legs and press them more tightly together around him. You nearly lose balance and tip over in this unnatural stance but a quick hand slapped against the damp wall steadies you. 

“Careful. If you continue to push this much further …” 

The warning in his voice is clear as day but you don’t really care. Not when you could feel the faint pulse of him between your thighs and he was lined up so perfectly with the seam of your cunt that you could feel your own internal pressure ratcheting up another notch. This wasn’t exactly familiar territory, this pulse pounding excitement that makes you dizzy with a need you don’t fully understand, but the instinctive urge to nudge your hips back and forth feels much too natural for you to truly question it. So you just do it. 

And oh, how you’re rewarded by the simple slide of him along your slit. Hot, blinding sparks flash behind your eyes and you almost swoon right there in his arms, but you know you have to keep moving. Need to chase that pinprick ember of satisfaction just as much as he does, and Dan Heng only reinforces that when he pulls you back to meet the next enthusiastic thrust of his hips. 

A gasp catches in your throat at the wet, meaty smack and lodges there as you tip your face down to look at yourself. Some of your hair slips forward with the motion, wet and clinging, but you hardly even notice it with so much of your attention focused on your own body. Your nudity hadn’t felt so stark before, when you were simply focused on bathing and occupying space with him wherein the two of you just so happened to be naked together. It’s so different now looking at it through the hazy lens of intimacy though, the sight of your tits bare and wet stoking the flames within you to even greater heights. Beyond that, over the soft curve of your stomach and lower still, you can just make out the thatch of hair covering the cradle of your pelvis. And beneath that his cock head nudges out from between your legs, blooming for but a brief moment before retreating back into the tight squeeze. 

It was enough to nearly make your knees buckle and give out. 

“Oohhn,” You hiss into the constant spray, swaying in his hold. “Dan Heng … that feels - -“

“Incredible.” 

You let out a soft moan in agreement, rocking in time with his steady thrusts. The height difference was a good thing, actually. It ensured he stayed pressed up tight against you, constantly knocking your cunt with a fleshy jostle whether he was pulling out or pushing in. It was a continuous cycle of pleasurable shockwaves that quickly leaves you panting just as heavily as he is, and you eagerly writhe against him when the pressure just continues to build and build. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. What exactly had he done to you? 

Had he even done anything at all, or was this just a natural result of your own needs mingling with his and feeding into one another? You couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to think straight when your cotton stuffed head was starting to spin alarmingly fast, but you decide that it doesn’t really matter either way. The drag of him against your cunt was enough. His possessive grip on your body was enough. There would be time to figure everything out later, after you’d properly taken care of each other, and you let yourself rock back into him with an accompanying groan that subtly rises in pitch at the tail end, basking in the litany of sensations.

“Can I —“ He suddenly blurts, choking on it. His fingers sink into your flesh so hard it starts to hurt and you let out a faint whimper while he struggles to reorient himself. “Can I … touch you?” 

“Nnghn, ah - aren’t you already touching me?” 

“More. I’d like to touch more of you, if you’ll permit it.” 

You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. He certainly wasn’t making it easy. “Ooh … please, please touch me, Dan Heng. I feel … I feel like I’m - -“ 

His hands immediately fly up off your hips and greedily latch onto your breasts instead, lifting the weight of them in his palms. You suck in such a haggard breath you feel like you just might pass out on the spot as you arch against him, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Water from the shower head mercilessly pelts against your face now but you can’t be bothered to lobby any complaints about it when he’s cupping your tits as if they were meant to fit right there in his hold. It’s perfect and sublime, and it just ratchets your own excitement up another notch, making you impotently shudder. 

This pulse pounding feeling of cresting pleasure may have been foreign to you, but you could already see yourself becoming irreversibly addicted to it. Perhaps this was even more dangerous than you’d first realized. 

“Oh! If you do that …” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“I — I don’t know.” 

He noises a faint sound of confusion at your quiet whimper, his hands loosening around your chest. You’re acutely aware of the odd little look he gives you through the swirling steam but can’t quite bring yourself to turn your face away. Whatever this was, whatever it meant in the long run, you wanted more of it. Needed more of him. 

“Don’t stop. Please.” 

A small frown graces his lips. “But you just said - -“

“I know. But I don’t want you to stop.” Carefully, you lift your hand — the one not currently braced against the wall — and cover one set of Dan Heng’s knuckles with your fingers. They seem dainty resting against his like this. “It feels kind of funny but I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t really understand what it means but … I want you to keep doing it. Please?” 

Groaning like you’d just sucker punched him right in the gut, Dan Heng leans further into you until his weight presses you down into a half stooped position. His skin sticks to your back and clings but this too feels good. His body heat bleeds into you, warming you up far more than the shower ever could have, and you eagerly squeeze the muscles in your legs to keep them locked in place. This time when he kneads your breasts it’s much more tentative and slow. He takes his time with it, just savoring the fleshy give, and you keen very softly when he at last nudges one index finger up to brush it over your nipple. 

You can feel yourself sinking deeper into that hazy fog as he starts to move again. The restrained power behind his thrusts sends fresh bursts of static energy coursing through your system, further highlighting the sensitivity of your aching teats as you rock with him, luxuriating in the fleshy drag of his stiff length against your cunt. 

Pap. Pap. Pap. 

He keeps the rhythm slow and even, but so vigorous that it pushes you forward and makes your tits bounce in his hold. You experience everything in stunning high definition from the slick dampness that oozes out of you to smooth the glide of him between your legs right down to the simple sensation of water running across your skin. It’s overwhelming and somehow still not enough. You couldn’t even think straight let alone formulate a semi coherent sentence, your tongue lolling heavily inside your mouth as you shudderingly rear back into him just to feel that delicious friction again. And he takes it in stride, never faltering no matter how wild you get or how hard you shake as the tumultuous waves crest a little bit higher each time. The firm, unyielding planes of his pelvis meeting with your backside, harder, faster. The distant tickle of coarse pubic hair digging into the vulnerably soft flesh of your ass. Even the low, guttural sounds he makes against the side of your face. You were so close to drowning in all of it. 

His thick, callous worn fingers curling up to finally pinch at your nipples is what really sends you over the edge though. The sudden jolt of pleasure so intense it rides the line of being painful almost makes you collapse right then and there, and you throw yourself back into him with mindless desperation. Your hips seem to move on their own even as you cry out for him, judderingly grinding yourself down on that rock hard length pressed up into you. 

“Ooh, Dan Heng!” 

“Please don’t say my name like that.” He quietly wheezes under his breath, still pinching at your breasts. Still pulling and tweaking, using his thumb to brush over them and flick the tightly coiled peaks back and forth. Your body was a livewire just waiting to detonate, and it doesn’t seem to escape his notice. It’s apparent in the way he’s so insistent with his ministrations, encouraging you to keep moving your cunt back and forth, back and forth against him with nothing more than the attention he gives your tits. He takes his time rolling them between the two pads to reward you for your efforts and he gives them a slow, encouraging tug any time your pace falters and you start to slow down. 

It’s a vicious cycle that perfectly feeds into itself a hundred times over and keeps you balanced right on the precipice of some great, harrowing free fall. The world could have come to a sudden, fiery end at that very moment and you never would have noticed. All of your attention, your entire being, was for Dan Heng and only Dan Heng in that moment. His hands, his lips brushing your neck and your cheek when he nuzzles into you. The constant motion of his thighs flexing behind you, driving himself unendingly into the hot, damp spot between your legs. His taller, wider frame trembling against yours with all the pent up tension running through it that so perfectly mirrors your own. 

You’d never felt anything like it before, and a very small voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’ll ever feel it again. Was this a once in a lifetime experience? A fleeting mercurial high that would disappear in a flash bang of white noise the second you tipped over into the awaiting abyss below? 

If that was the case, if you were destined to bask in this dwindling euphoria once and only once in your lifetime, then you were determined to milk every last drop of enjoyment out of it while you could. 

So you drop your hands and reach back, grabbing two biting fistfuls of Dan Heng’s narrow hips. Use the leverage to draw him in against you at a quicker pace, forcing him to snap his pelvis into your backside with greater ferocity. He issues a wounded, faltering grunt into the air but he doesn’t fight it. He hasn’t truly fought anything you’ve offered up to him on a silver platter, not once telling you ‘no’ since you first stepped foot into this bathroom together, and that knowledge sparks a simmering ember deep within your gut. It’s the taste of victory. Of conquest and self assured confidence that can only be achieved through the meeting of two compatible bodies. 

You’re sure of it. Innately, or perhaps intrinsically, you just know that’s what it is. 

“Oh, gods,” He rattles out, gritting through tightly clenched teeth while he fucks himself between your thighs, pistoning in and out of the tight squeeze like a jackhammer. “I’m so close — so close, I - I can’t hold it back anymore.” 

You would’ve voiced your agreement if only you’d had the ability to do so. The breakneck speed at which he ruts into you effectively steals the air from your lungs though and it’s all you can do just to hold on, clutching at his powerfully flexing hips to ground yourself rather than to encourage him. He didn’t need more encouragement anyway. That one little nudge from you was more than enough and now he couldn’t quite seem to remember to be polite and gentle with you. 

The wet smack of his pelvis slamming into your ass is now loud, almost defeaning, and it comes in rapid fire succession to damn near down out even the constant spray of the shower head. It just amplifies the already searing friction against your cunt until it seems to blur into a single, persistent tingle that just grows and grows to the point of delirium. He can’t help himself and neither can you. Not anymore. 

“Dan Heng - -“ 

A truly bestial snarl snakes out of him. His fingers falter, slipping and sliding against your wet teats before adjusting to latch onto the bouncing meat of your breasts instead. What little bit of control he’d still been clinging to dissipates like dust in the wind, and he clings to you so hard it brings tears to your eyes. The demanding press of his fingers sinking into your flesh sends you over the edge with a sudden, lurching jolt as your pussy clenches up and squeezes uncontrollably against his length. Even when you wail out in high strung relief, trembling violently in the throes of your release, he just keeps humping into you like he’d die if he doesn’t chase his own pleasure quickly enough. That continuous drag over your slit just draws out your own involuntary spasms and you can’t help but cry out in oversensitized bliss even as you somewhat awkwardly twist in his arms to look down at yourself. 

Numbly, you watch his flushed glans appear between the fleshy press of your legs, quickly disappear and then immediately reappear again just a split second later. He’s pounding into you so fast and so hard that the resulting shockwaves make your thighs jiggle slightly under the force. It’s incredibly fascinating to witness though and you stare at it in a trancelike stupor, barely even registering the pitchy moan he lets out right against your temple. 

The next time his cock appears it’s with an eruption of creamy white discharge that shoots out to splatter across the floor and the wall, some of it smearing over the skin where the two of you are connected. Hissing like his soul is actively trying to leave his body, Dan Heng haltingly slows to a stiff roll of his hips that makes his length nudge back and forth just enough to drain the rest of his explosive release. Another healthy spurt rushes out of him and then a savory dribble quickly follows, thickly oozing from the tip to drip onto the floor between your feet. It’s over, just like that, and you blink rather owlishly down at the evidence of your illicit encounter as he heaves a deeply satisfied sigh of pleasure. 

It’s a little hard to wrap your mind around what had just transpired, especially when you were still floating in the afterglow and well satiated, but you snap back into the moment when he carefully starts to straighten up. You hadn’t even realized he’d dropped into a partial crouch to better accommodate the height difference, and you turn in his hold to look back at him. 

“Dan Heng … are you - -“

“We need to get out.” He cuts across you, back to being the same mild and polite Dan Heng you were used to, but at the questioning lift of your brows he sheepishly glances away. “The water is beginning to turn cold so we need to get out before you start shivering again. Otherwise that would completely defeat the purpose of doing this in the first place.” 

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed, truth be told, but you shift to the side when he reaches around you to smack the faucet off. The room goes suddenly quiet, save the dull drip of water droplets running from the spout and two sets of deep breaths coming from you and him. You’d been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t noticed that either but your heart was indeed pounding a wild rhythm against your chest, and you reach up to idly touch over your pulse. Wild and erratic, just like you’d felt leading up to that mind numbing crescendo. 

What the hell had all that been? 

“Let me get you a towel.” You hear him say, and you bring your head up in time to watch him flick the screen open with a sluggish motion. 

“What about you? You didn’t even get to wash your hair.” 

Dan Heng looses a soft bark of laughter as he steps out onto the waiting mat, giving you your first real look at his nude body. He’s all lean and svelte with a perfectly tapered waist and broad shoulders, and — he abruptly turns to face you without warning. You’re suddenly looking right at him. The cut lines of his pelvis and the perfect little bellybutton stamped right in the center of it; the damp mess of dark, dark hair crowning his softened cock and the unmistakable weight of it … 

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel vaguely faint even as you smack a hand up to your mouth and quickly look away in embarrassment. You’d never seen one before. Or at least, you’re pretty sure you haven’t. That doesn’t exactly stop your body from reacting to it though and your knees turn instantly wobbly again to accompany the instinctive urge to touch him, taste him. To feel him moving inside of you with the same keen ferocity he’d shown your thighs. Gods, you were like some kind of pervert! 

“After all that you’re finally getting shy?” He laughs, bemused, but you can’t quite bring yourself to lift your gaze again. The risk of jumping his bones seemed far too great for you to take that chance right now. But luckily for you, Dan Heng is much too conscientious to hold it over your head and you soon catch the sound of him shuffling for a towel just another moment later. “I’ll cover up if that will make you feel better but don’t think you’re going to get out of this without having a talk with me first. I meant it when I said I had no intention of taking advantage of you. This isn’t something we can just pretend never happened, you know.” 

Cautiously slow, you peek over at him from the corner of your eye just in time to get one last good look at his tight backside before a towel slides into place around his waist. You may not have been able to see it anymore but that certainly wasn’t going to stop you from thinking about it well into the foreseeable future. Curse him and his gorgeous body. “Are you … upset that we did that?” 

“Not at all. I only want to check in with you and find out what you want.” 

Now that manages to throw you for a loop. “What do you mean? I wasn’t expecting anything in return.” 

Sighing softly, Dan Heng pivots back around to face you again. “That’s precisely why. You obviously have no expectations in place and some men would probably try to take advantage of that to use you for sex. I’m not like that though. If you want to do this the right way then I would likewise be amenable to that possibility. If you want to keep things casual that’s fine too. And if you never want to see my face again … well, I couldn’t exactly blame you for that I suppose.” 

Confusion marches rampant through your mind until the lightbulb abruptly clicks on. He was talking about taking responsibility for his actions. Of giving you the proper respect and courtesy of having a choice. Dan Heng clearly had no desire to withhold an actual relationship from you if that was what you wanted but he also wasn’t going to force it on you either. How interesting. How very — chivalrous of him. 

Your heart gives a tiny little thump against your ribcage, and you smile over at him. Eager and pleased by this revelation, but a bit nervous too. Whoever would’ve thought something as benign as sharing a shower together out of necessity would end with talks of a potential future together. 

“Is everyone on the Express as old fashioned as you are?” 

He smiles back, gracing you with a small but no less frustratingly charming grin. “In this aspect, I’m afraid it’s just me. Think you're up for it?” 

“Yeah, I think I might be.” 

⭐

Crossposted: here

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 4

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 32.3k+ (dear lord)

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction & calorie counting), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, a parent in the hospital, mentions of sexually explicit scene being shot on film, anxiety/stress/depression, jealousy

SMUT-18+ ONLY: fingering & oral (f receiving), nipple stimulation, heavy petting (m receiving), possessiveness, a lot of hickeys(lol), a little praise (please let me know if i’ve missed anything)

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me. this story is personal to me for so many reasons, & parts of it have been a little hard to write. but, they’ve begged to be written. i hope you all love it. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

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Christmas Eve: Cherry Tree, OK

The ground was buried under mounds of snow. A fluffy, warm blanket of the softest white, yet it froze your little fingers when you buried your hands into its inviting, bright allure. 

You were bundled so tightly in your winter ensemble that you could hardly move. Your arms were stiff as boards, impossible to lay at your sides. You begged your mom to not make you wear it outside, but she and your dad wouldn’t budge. 

“You’ll get sick.” They warned you. But you didn’t heed them. 

As soon as you were outside and safely out of their sight, you shed your pink puffer and matching mittens, throwing them in a deep bank covering the once vibrant flower beds on the side of your house and freeing yourself of their restrictions.

You’d spent what felt like hours outside in the below freezing temperatures. Intricately rounding out perfect snowballs, building the tallest snowman your six year old body could manage, creating the most heavenly snow angels. 

You hadn’t even noticed the sudden pain and tightness that had developed in your small chest, or the dry cough that accompanied it. You were too busy warding off evil snow monsters from your fort made of icey wonder.

Until you heard your first, middle and last name erupting from the opened back door. 

Your mom and dad were there, their faces as white as the snow your body plummeted towards when your small lungs became too tired to allow for another breath of air. 

You spent Christmas in the hospital that year. The whole week, actually. A collapsed lung due to pneumonia, you were told. It was the most painful thing you had yet to experience in your young life. 

But to this very day, you consider it the best Christmas you’ve ever celebrated.

Nurses and doctors showered you with all the toys your heart could ever long for. You opened gifts from your bed and enjoyed the most wonderfully terrible Christmas dinner the hospital cafeteria could offer. 

You ate more ice cream than what was truly necessary. But no one denied your incessant requests for the frozen treat.

You watched Oliver and Company countless times that week, a favorite of yours and your dads. He hated Disney movies, but he loved this one, only because of Billy Joel’s character and the classic song he featured in the film.

He loved Billy Joel. Loved him enough to sit through hours upon hours of the animated film with you. 

Neither him or your mom left your side that whole week. They didn’t even go home to sleep. They just stayed with you. 

There were no fights between your mom and dad that week. Not even one. It was the closest your little family had ever been, and would ever be again. The love you felt from your parents that week has yet to find a comparison.

Crazy as it sounds, you miss that week. You began missing it as soon as you were cleared to go home. 

Their bickering resumed almost as soon as they put you in your special, tiny wheelchair to take you to the car. Whatever magic that hospital held that forced your family to love each other in a way that was brand new to you, was lost altogether once you were wheeled out of the automatic glass doors. 

You knew, once they situated you in the back of your dads double cab, that you’d never see them love each other that way ever again. 

As the Winter thawed to a bright Spring that year, when the snow melted and ran away to the Deer in Water creek that your home stood proudly beside, so did your hopes of ever seeing your parents love you and each other the same as they had that Christmas. 

That was a time in your life when you viewed your mom and dad in the same light. A time when you didn’t hate your dad, a time when he made you believe a man could love you.

When it wasn’t just your dad that caused problems, and it wasn’t just your mom that showed you love. They both did those things.

It’s strange to think back on it all now, to think about how he’s the one that left, and she’s the one dying. (Or already dead.)

You can’t bring yourself to understand why, but that Christmas you spent in the hospital all those years ago is all that's playing in your mind as Jake is speeding to the hospital. 

He’s asked you a few times how you’re holding up, but you can’t begin to try and answer him. 

You’re unable to communicate more than a quiet nod of your head as you're staring through the tinted passengers window. 

There aren’t any tears. No lump in your throat. 

You want to cry, but you can’t. 

Your mind pleads with you to acknowledge the emotions swirling about, desperate to manifest outwardly. But despite the inner turmoil, your body refuses to show it.

You just can’t.

Everything feels numb. 

You’re not even sure if you’re breathing properly.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You hadn’t even realized how tightly you’d been clutching the necklace your dad gifted you  all those years  ago. It’s somehow serving as a comfort for you as you’re being driven to the hospital, even after everything he’s put you through. You find yourself running your thumb over the engraved initial, just  as you always had before he left.

As much as you’ve grown to hate him over the last year, you can’t help but wish he were here. Not being able to rely on anyone right now is…it’s fucking terrible.

Well, aside from Jake. 

He’s the last person you’d expect to be leaning on.

But it was purely an accident. Him driving you to the hospital is just a happenstance. He wouldn’t have if your stupid car hadn’t broken down (thanks, dad) and if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have had to get a ride from Jake in the first place.

But, you’re grateful to him right now. Grateful that he stuck around at your apartment long enough to know he needed to take you to her. 

If it weren’t for him, you’d still be stuck there desperately searching for someone to take you.

Finally, the brakes come to a screeching halt at the emergency room entrance. You absently thank him as you practically jump out of the car. 

You don’t look back, but you hear the thrumming motor of his range rover become more distant as he drives away.

You can’t bring yourself to care at this point as you’re sprinting to the front desk in search of where they’ve taken your mom. 

The young, redheaded man behind the counter with bright green eyes shielded by thick eyeglass frames looks rather shocked at your frenzied state. He’s watching you with his mouth agape, hands frozen on the keyboard of his desktop as he prepares for your inevitable arrival.

“I–I need to f– find my mom. She was just broug–” You take a second to catch your breath, still clutching your necklace for some sort of grounding. “...she was brought here by ambulance and I—” He stops you with a hand held high, asking you to slow down because he can’t comprehend your rushed words.

You can hardly even understand yourself, your voice breathy and stuttering as you’re gasping for air. But there’s no time to wait to catch it in your heaving lungs. 

“I need my mom and you need to tell me where the hell they’ve taken her. Her name is–”

“Miss,” he interupts, standing up as if to intimidate you with his much taller stature in comparison to yours. “If you can’t calm down I’ll have to ask you to leave.” His voice (that he’s clearly manipulated to sound much more threatening) echoes throughout the entire lobby as he’s looking at you as if you’re the crazy one.

This man has started copping an attitude with you that you’re in no place to put up with. You’ve backed down to people you’re entire fucking life, but right now isn’t the goddamn time.

You’ve decided to challenge him. If he wants to be loud, you can be loud right back.

Your fist pounds the counter with a force that causes everyone in the lobby of the emergency room to gasp and silence their voices. The metal container holding pens is jolted over the edge, the clipboard holding the blank paperwork for patients to fill out tumbles to the floor from the sheer amount of power behind your hand. 

There’s a stinging pain running rapidly up your arm, all the way to your shoulder, ringing through your teeth and  vibrating in your skull. 

You don’t even so much as wince from the pain.

A potential broken hand is the very least of your troubles right now.  

“She may be dying,” you scream, your first still held firm atop the white marble. “And if you don’t tell me where the fuck she is, you may have ruined the last time I’ll ever see her.”

The tears you’ve held in thus far begin flooding your face, falling like a heavy rain shower on the granite where your sore hand lies. 

Before the receptionist can start the process of having you escorted out, a tall woman dressed in a light blue set of scrubs stops him before he can make a single move. 

“Tell me her name, sweetie.” Her voice is quiet and her demeanor is calm, her wavy brown locks tied in a sleek ponytail at the bottom of her neck reminds you so much of the way your mom used to wear her hair before she got sick. 

You tell her your moms name through a shaky voice, attempting to make yourself sound more composed so you don’t get yourself kicked out of here. 

She gently moves the receptionist aside (Eric, according to the name badge clipped to the pocket of his shirt) and begins clicking the mouse around, scrunching her eyebrows in focus. 

“Here she is,” she confirms, the printer behind her humming with the physical version of what she can see on the screen. “She doesn’t have a room just yet, hun.” 

You feel defeated and useless. You’re her primary caregiver, and you can’t do your job from behind this stiff counter— not knowing where she is, how she is, what happened. So many unknowns, so much that’s completely out of your control.

You suddenly feel the intense pain radiating from your fist and you instinctively pull it close to you, clutching it tightly against your chest in hopes that pressure will alleviate just how bad it hurts.

“I’ll let you know when she gets a room. Until then, you’re welcome to wait in the lobby.” The tall nurse tells you. 

You nod your head in agreement, knowing there’s nothing you can say or do to make them move quicker. Still clutching your fist, you slowly walk away towards the stained lobby chairs and plant yourself in the one that’s closest to the counter.

You pull your phone out of your jacket pocket in search of something to distract you, but you're mortified to be met with the dead battery symbol upon trying to unlock it.

Great. Nothing to divert you from your thoughts (or the searing pain) for god knows how long. You feel the tears start to well in your sleepy eyes again, and you just decide to let them fucking fall. There’s no sense in trying to keep them in, you need to feel right now so you don’t explode again with your pent up aggression. 

Crying feels like the safest thing to do right now, and the best way to relieve some of the mental (and physical) pain. 

You let your chin fall down towards your chest, watching as the tears land on your sheer tights. You can’t help but giggle a little at how much thought you put into this outfit, only for the night to end like this. You had no way of knowing. No signs that she was doing so poorly on the night you decided to fucking leave her.

But before you have the chance to become too deep in your pity party, you hear the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet walking in your direction. You don’t bother looking up; you figure if you ignore whoever it is, they’ll also ignore you, which is exactly what you want right now. 

But ignoring them isn’t quite doing the trick. You see a pair of black sweats out of your peripheral standing near you, and as you lift your eyes a little more, you see a hand offering you a tissue. 

When you shift your watering eyes up a bit more, you realize it’s Jake.

“Wha-what are you still doing here?” You ask, the crying making your voice meak and raspy. You clear your throat as you thank him and accept his small (but rather meaningful) token. A sweet gesture that you can’t ignore. 

“I just wanted to make sure you found her okay,” he says while settling down in the seat on your left. “And I couldn’t leave knowing you don’t have a way home tonight. This hospital won’t let people stay overnight anymore since the pandemic. Didn’t want to leave you stranded.”

You hadn’t even thought of any of that. Aside from getting to your mom, you had no plan of action. Anything to come after that just hadn’t crossed your mind yet. You're glad someone thought of all those things, because your mind clearly isn’t capable of considering much at the moment. 

“Well, thank you. But I can just call Nat so you don’t have to stay with me.” Your voice sounds a little colder than you’d like it to. But with the way your emotions are surfacing, it can’t be helped right now. 

“Your phone’s dead,” he challenges, pointing to the quiet device sitting in your lap . “So, I’m staying.” 

You snap your head towards him, wide eyes and scrunched brows in question. “How do you know that?” 

“Been trying to call you for the last twenty minutes,” he explains, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his call log to prove it to you. “It was going straight to voicemail. I knew there was a chance you could’ve been ignoring me, but I had a feeling your battery had just died.”

You can’t deny the grin that’s threatening to consume your tired features. You’re flattered, to say the least. While you didn’t fully expect him to stay to be sure you were okay, you’re not entirely surprised. (It crossed your mind briefly that he could just let you use his phone to call Nat, be he hasn’t offered. And you’re not going to ask. You kind of like that he’s here.)

“She doesn’t have a room yet. They told me they’d let me know when she does.” You adjust yourself in the stiff, plastic chair to face him while he nods his head.

His eyes are heavier than usual. His drooping lids tell you he’s just as tired. Though he’s probably had a much happier evening than you have had. 

Before you let your mind wander too deeply into the fact that he most likely slept with Stacy tonight, you search for anything to talk about with him.

“So, that spookhouse tonight was–” you begin, but he interrupts your thought before you can continue. 

“Shitty.” He states, putting his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie and letting both hands rest inside the fabric.  “Shitty and not scary in the least.” 

“Yeah.” You huff through a chuckle, grateful for the tiny smile it forced out of you. “Stacy was pretty scared, though.”

The look Jake gives you is one you can’t quite place. He looks…uncomfortable? 

You half expected him to giggle along with you, but he didn’t. Not even close. His eyes shift away from you, gazing across the waiting room. 

Fuck. Why did you have to bring her up?

You pull your eyes away from him as you awkwardly set your sights back on your lap. You’re not sure how, but it’s clear you’ve struck some kind of nerve with him.

It’s probably for the best that you keep your mouth shut. And that’s exactly what you do for the next several minutes. 

Without as much as a single word uttered between the two of you, you’re suddenly longing for the moments prior to his arrival in the lobby. The ones you spent pathetically crying in defeat and helplessness. Alone.

But just as it seems that all hope of having a normal conversation with him is lost, he breaks the silence. 

“Is that what they’re called, where you’re from?” 

As you lift your head, you’re met with his drowsy eyes once again set on you, his right eyebrow cocked slightly as he awaits your response. 

“Is what called…?” you absently ask. Your mind became so filled with the painful lull in conversation that you’d all but forgotten what you were talking about before you mentioned her name. 

“The haunted house,” he says. “You called it a spook house. I was just wondering if that’s because you’re not from here.”

It’s funny, because you hadn’t even noticed that you called it that. Didn’t even think twice about it. 

The memory of Sam pointing out the very same thing pops in your mind. You’re then reminded of how you left him tonight. The guilt is weighing horribly on you, but, sadly, it’s a welcome distraction against the worry (and far greater guilt) you’re feeling  for your mom. 

“Oh, yeah.” You fix your posture a bit, facing him once again as he clearly wants to keep some sort of conversation going. “That’s what we call them back home. It’s so funny how we have different names for things just based on what part of the country we’re from.” 

“It’s pretty interesting,” he mutters, a tiny grin peaking through his sleepy exterior.

You just hum in response, not really sure what to say next. The silence was awkward, but this sad attempt at a casual exchange is almost worse. 

You look over to the counter to see if the nurse who helped calm you down is standing there, but all you’re met with is Eric’s creeping eyes on you from behind the marble that may have broken your hand. 

Your hand suddenly begins to ache once more at the thought, and you instinctively bring it up to your chest again to dull the pain. 

“Is your hand okay?” Jake asks, taking note of your wincing expression after moving your sore extremity. 

You’re not sure you want to tell him about your little meltdown from earlier, so you come up with a quick excuse that sounds slightly better than the full truth.

“I knocked it against the counter when I got here, just by accident.” It’s not a complete lie. The accident addition is a bit of a stretch, but it kind of was an accident that your fist met the granite in a fit of rage. (However justified it may be, it’s still a tad embarrassing.) 

He leans closer to you, attempting to look at your hand that you’re still holding against your chest. With a tender touch, he attempts to pry it away from you. You’re so stunned by this that out of instinct, you hold it even tighter.

“Let me see,” he softly demands. 

After some hesitation on your part, (why does he care so much?) you pull it away from your chest, holding it out in front of you and Jake to get a clearer look.

The outer blade of your palm is swollen and already beginning to bruise. It hurts like hell. (And you’re wondering where on earth that physical strength came from.) 

Jake runs his index finger so gently over the inflammation. Amidst everything happening, your body can’t deny the fire that’s blooming under your skin from his feather light touch. 

Your tired eyes flit up to his face, his features wearing stark concern. When his eyes meet yours, you can’t look away. And he doesn’t, either, his finger still tracing a light pattern around the impact point on your fist. 

…and then he stops. He looks away and jumps up out of his seat without as much as a single word. 

He rounds the corner of the hallway and is out of your sight within seconds. Gone. Leaving you sitting here alone and feeling like you’ve suddenly done something wrong. 

Before you have the chance to worry about that for much longer, you notice the tall nurse out of your peripheral walking in your direction.

Your mom.

You stand up to meet the nurse halfway, ready to finally be taken back to see your mom. 

“Hold on,” she says, stopping you before you take a step. “You can’t go back right now, hun.”

Why won’t they let you go back? What don’t they want you to see?

Is it because she’s dead?

The nurse grabs your arm to keep you stable, your legs almost giving out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes down through your chest. The dizzying feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.  

Your legs threaten to give out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes  down  through your chest. The dizzy feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.

Your body begins swaying back and forth, threatening to collapse from shock, exhaustion…

She grabs your arm to help stabilize you.

“Hey, hey.” She puts her other hand on your shoulder to hold you still. “Everything’s okay. Just sit down for me, sweetheart.” 

She leads you back down to the chair, helping you lower yourself to sit back down. 

“I need you to know that she’s fine, sweetie. She’s asleep, but she’s stable.” 

The tension leaves your body instantly, like a two ton weight has been lifted off your tight chest. 

She’s alive. 

“Can I go back? Can I see her?” You’re nearly begging. 

“Not right now, honey. I tried to bend the visiting hour rules for you, but the big wigs won’t budge. I just wanted you to know that she’s okay, but she’ll need to stay overnight for some extra testing.”

“Everything okay?” Jake sits back down next to you, taking your hand and gently placing ice wrapped in a paper towel on your swollen fist. The cold nearly shocks your system, but it feels so good against the pain.

That’s where he went. He cared enough to get you ice for your ridiculously obtained injury. 

You turn your head to face him, his sweet eyes locked with yours while he holds the ice steady on your hand. 

This isn’t the Jake you’ve grown accustomed to over the months of knowing him. But this is the Jake you’ve wanted.

“She’s okay,” you say, looking down the makeshift pack of ice he brought you. “She’ll just have to stay overnight.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he responds, dabbing the frozen compress delicately across the bruise.  

“We’re still not certain what happened to her. She fainted; that’s all we know for sure. We’ll run some tests to get to the root of it.” The nurse draws your attention from Jake back to your mom. You distractedly nod, your mind still consumed with Jake holding your hand the way he is. “You’re welcome to come back first thing in the morning, okay? We’ll take good care of her tonight.” 

A small breath of relief washes over you. At least she’s alive. And she’s stable. But fuck…you just wish you could be back there with her. The immense guilt of not being there when it happened is eating away at you. You want to apologize to her, tell her you’ll never fucking leave her again. But, that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. You’ll just be stuck sitting in your guilt until then. 

The nurse begins wishing you a good night, but before she leaves, she glances at your hand that Jake is still holding in his grip. 

“Is your hand okay, sweetie? Do you need someone to take a look at it?” She asks you, concerned. 

“I think I’m okay,” you tell her, looking to Jake who probably has a better idea about your condition than you do. It’s the least of your worries at the moment, you just don’t really care about it in comparison to everything else. This feels insignificant, you feel insignificant. It just doesn’t matter. 

Jake nods, looking at you and then averting his gaze to the nurse. “A little swollen and beginning to bruise, but it’s not broken.” He lifts the ice to inspect it a little further, running his finger over the swelling. “It’s already gone down some. I suppose just keeping ice on it will do the trick.”

You give him a look that says a silent ‘thank you’ for taking care of this for you. If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t think twice about it.

The nurse smiles in response, then looks to you again. “I’d say you’re in good hands, then. Better not let that one get away.” 

She once again bids you a good night, reminding you that you can come back first thing in the morning. 

Neither one of you seems to react to what she just said. Not aloud, at least. You both just ignore it as you walk through the automatic doors. 

“I’ll go get the car,” Jake tells you, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Had to park kind of far away. Be right back.” 

As you watch him walk away, you can’t stop replaying what the nurse said over and over in your mind.

“Better not let that one get away.”

If only she knew.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The ice is melting all over you and Jake’s floorboard. You’re desperately trying to catch every drop in your lap, but it’s proving difficult. You were freezing when you first got into the car, so Jake cranked the heat all the way up for you, but it’s causing you to make a huge mess. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you utter, fighting back a few tears brimming your eyes. It’s not the dripping water that’s threatening to make you cry, it’s the fact that you feel like such a burden. And here you are, being even more of one by dripping water all over his nice car. 

“What are you sorry for?” He asks, peering over to you. You sniff the tears away, not wanting him to see you crying over something so fucking ridiculous. 

“The ice,” you answer through a cracking voice. “It’s melting all over.”

His brows crinkle, looking over at you to assess the situation. His eyes lock on your soaking wet lap for a spell, taking a deep breath before his eyes are back on the road.

“It’s just water, y/n. I’m not worried about it.” He takes the final left turn onto your street that’s now much more quiet than it was the last time he turned here. He pulls into the parking lot, parking in what would normally be your spot if your car wasn’t sitting worthlessly at his place. 

He keeps the car on drive, just letting his foot rest on the brake as he unlocks the door for you. 

“Just keep ice on it intermittently throughout the night,” he reminds you. “The swelling should be mostly gone by the morning.” 

Staring at the darkened apartment building, you slowly nod your head as you’re suddenly hesitant to leave his car for some reason. Your seatbelt is still buckled, your body feeling almost too numb to even manage that.

The thought of going into the empty apartment isn’t by any means a pleasant one. You hadn’t even thought of the fact that you’ll be all alone tonight. No one to take care of besides yourself. (And that’s not something you're well versed in.)

You’ve gotten so used taking care of her since it’s just been the two of you. Being in the apartment without her just feels…wrong. On every level. And being alone in your guilt feels even worse. 

At this moment, you’re not sure you can do it. But you haven’t a choice. 

“Y/n?” Jake’s calm voice pulls you back to reality, to the fact that you’re still sitting in his car, quietly contemplating. He’s probably ready to get you out of here so he can go home. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you lie, not wanting to delve into the turning wheels of your brain. 

Then, he puts the car in park, leaning back in his seat as he looks at you with inquisitive eyes. “Are you sure?” He questions. “Because you’ve hardly said a word since we left the hospital, and you’re not exactly in any hurry to get inside.”

Embarrassed, you force yourself to remove your seatbelt. “I’m fine, just a little tired is all. Thank you for taking me tonight, I really appreciate it.” You begin opening the door to let him leave, gathering the mental strength to prepare yourself to walk into an eerie, empty apartment.

“You know, it’s pretty late,” he says as you're one foot out of the door. “And it’s a long drive back to my place. I could stay here, sleep on the couch. That way you’d have someone to take you tomorrow morning.” 

It’s almost like he could hear the thoughts in your head. He knows, somehow, that you can’t handle being alone tonight. Like there’s something within him that understands. 

“Jake I–I can’t ask you to—” 

But before you can finish, he shuts off the ignition.

“You’re not asking if I’m offering,” he protests. And he’s right. You didn’t ask, but you still feel bad. Because you would love to have him stay. “It’s actually easier for me if I do. Saves on gas.” 

Instantly, the thought of having his company makes you feel worlds better. Even if he’ll just be on the couch. Just knowing he’s there will make things a little more bearable for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask, timidly. 

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I can just—” he starts.

“No, no. I’d love it if you did. Thank you, seriously.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been lying wide awake in your bed for what’s felt like hours. Flipping and tossing about in search of a comfortable spot that you just can‘t seem to find. 

It’s not really the bed that’s the problem. It’s your unabating mind that won’t turn off its wandering thoughts. You’ve tried scrolling on your phone, using every app you can think of to distract you. But the thoughts are domineering your every attempt to silence them. 

Did they give her the right medications? Are they keeping her oxygen on her? Is someone staying with her all night to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing? Who called 911? 

Or, the worst one…the loudest one.

Is she dead and they just haven’t called me yet?

You’re so accustomed to her being here, hearing the humming of her oxygen machine, being able to check on her to be sure she’s okay. At least when she’s here, you know. With her gone, it leaves the floor open for your mind to wander to every terrible scenario that you can’t do anything about. You just don’t know what’s going on. And the unknowing is the worst part.

Your grumbling tummy is just about as loud as your mind, reminding you that you’ve not eaten anything in almost twenty four hours. 

There’s nothing else to do, so you pull yourself out of your unwelcoming bed t o go find a midnight (actually, closer to two in the morning) snack. 

Eating is a little terrifying to you right now, but you figure some popcorn won’t do much harm. 

You slowly open the creaking door of your room, holding your breath as it seems to be louder than normal in the dead quiet apartment. The last thing you want to do is wake Jake up, so it’s vital that you’re as silent as possible as you make the journey to the kitchen.

You tiptoe as gracefully as your tired body will allow across the living room, avoiding coming too close to the couch where Jake sleeps as you walk as far away from him as you can, not even looking in his direction.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you reach the kitchen successfully.

You know that there’s one more bag of Pop Secret sitting on the second shelf of the cabinet right next to the microwave. Relying only on the soft light above the stove, you shuffle through the various items in search of it until you at last feel the familiar plastic cover. 

Instantly upon finding it, you start looking for the nutrition facts to know just how much you’re putting in your body. An old trait of yours that you’ve not done in years, yet suddenly, as if it’s purely muscle memory you flip the bag over to the side to note the amount of calories you’ll be taking. 

I’m not reverting back. I’m just curious about what popcorn is made of, that’s all, you try telling yourself. (Although, you know yourself in situations like these. When you’re stressed, you seek comfort in old habits. One old habit of choice just happens to be food restriction and calorie counting.)

It won‘t last long. I won’t let it. I just need something familiar.

130 calories, 6 g fat, 14 g carbs, 2 g protein per 4 cups is printed on the back in dark blue ink.

Could be worse. And there’s nothing saying you have to eat the whole thing. Maybe you can split the bag in half, that way you’re only getting half the fat and carbs. That’ll still be enough to quiet your empty tummy. 

You toss the bag in the microwave and set the timer to three minutes, pressing start and cringing at the loud humming from the appliance. You’ve also forgotten just how noisy preparing this little snack can be. 

Each pop of the buttered kernels echoes throughout the open kitchen and you’re praying to every star that this won’t wake him up. 

With two seconds left on the timer, you quickly open the door to avoid the unpleasant ding that’s sure to wake him up if you didn’t catch it in time.

You pour the contents of  the bag into your favorite blue bowl, designated long ago as the official “popcorn bowl.” You can’t go without a little extra salt, so you dump a good amount over top and sift it around so it’s all coated. 

You’ve realized that you instinctively poured the entire bag, even though you decided to only eat half. You’re not happy about the extra temptation, but you’re mentally telling yourself that there’s no need to eat this whole bowl. 

Shutting the door to the microwave as quietly as you can, you begin to tip toe back to your room to safety.

Only now, you’re met with a slightly horrifying discovery.

He’s laying on his back, sans hoodie that's draped over the arm of the couch and the blanket you gave him sitting just below chest. (God he looks good.) The light from his phone illuminates his face as he’s holding it sideways, seemingly watching a video of some kind. But his drowsy eyes flick to you as you begin the walk back to your room.

As you awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, blue popcorn bowl in hand, he pulls out an earbud and sets his phone down. “Trouble sleeping?” His groggy voice asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, a little embarrassed that he’s caught you in such a state. “I just can’t seem to relax…but what are you still doing awake? I hope I wasn’t being too loud.”

“I’m a bit of an insomniac, I suppose,” he answers. “Popcorn, huh?” 

He swings his legs over the side and sits himself up on the end of the couch, a silent request to have you come sit next to him. You take the hint. The company would do you a little good right now, anyway. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” You still can’t help yourself from asking if it’s okay, given your less than welcomed history with him. 

“Under one condition,” he remarks, full smirk across his lips. 

You stop before you take a seat, slightly terrified of what his ‘condition’ could possibly be.

“And what is that?” you timidly ask. 

He flashes you a warm grin that looks all the more inviting under the very dimly lit living room, chuckling lazily under his breath. 

“You have to share your snack.” 

You nervously laugh as you situate yourself on the opposite side of the couch, taking a few pieces of your snack of choice and passing the bowl over towards his direction. 

You catch a glimpse of his phone that’s still unlocked and sitting upright, paused on what looks like some professional chef working away on some fancy meal.

Perfect opportunity for an ice breaker. 

“You like cooking?” you ask while tossing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. (You’re really hoping you just got a bad piece, because it tastes burnt to hell and way too salty.)

“I dabble here and there,” he answers through loud crunches.

“I’m the one who needs to watch those videos,” you say, wincing at the second piece you’ve now eaten that tastes just as bad as the last one. “I’m probably the worst cook I know.” 

“I’d say so,” he acknowledges through a soft giggle, wincing as he tries more of your snack. “You’ve burnt the shit out of this popcorn and you didn’t need to add so much salt.” 

Of course, he noticed. 

You’re thankful for the mostly dark room as you can feel the blood rushing to your face over ruining something as simple as popcorn. 

But, it’s making him laugh. And you’ve come to really appreciate the moments that you do get to hear him laugh, because it isn’t often. Even though it’s at your own expense, you’ll take it. 

It’s surely been a great way to combat any awkward silence between the two of you. 

You chuckle to yourself as you set the popcorn bowl on the couch, centering it so you and Jake can both grab some as you please. 

“So,” he begins as he brings his feet up to rest on the coffee table in front of you. “I know you’re from somewhere where haunted houses are called spook houses. Where might that be? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oklahoma,” you answer, a little embarrassed. You’ve learned that your home state isn’t much of a popular one amongst people. Although you do understand why, you can’t help but find yourself missing it every now and again. It has its charm, however hard it may be to find. You know it’s there. Parts of it still remain lovingly in your heart. “A very, very small town in Oklahoma called Cherry Tree.”k,

With a soft nod of his head, his hair falls around his face and even in the dark, you can see how shiny it is. You can even see the soft smile over his lips. “I hear it in your voice,” he softly says. You look to him with question, silently asking him to elaborate. With a snicker, he continues. “Your little southern drawl. It’s not very strong, but it definitely stands out around here. A far cry from a Michigan accent.” 

Your whole life, you’d tried to mask your naturally derived, southern accent. You hated it. And you hated when people told you that you had one. It just made you want to unlearn it even more. 

Especially when you knew you would move to Michigan. The last thing you wanted was to stand out as if you’re not from here. 

Clearly, your efforts were useless. And as much as you’ve cringed when people have brought up the way you talk in the past, there’s something about hearing Jake point it out that actually makes you a little fond of it. 

Maybe it truly isn’t something to feel any shame over. It makes you unique, sets you apart, and perhaps that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Time feels mute, like it doesn’t exist in this realm you and Jake are together in. 

The early dawn is creeping through the window blinds, and when you glance at your phone, you come to realize that you’ve been talking with him for nearly three hours, and that’s shocking  to you—it’s shocking because it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. 

The conversations have been flowing so naturally, so authentically. He’s easy to talk to. So easy. You would've never guessed how seamless keeping a conversation going with him could be. 

And, to your astonishment, he’s done most of the talking. You’re witnessing a brand new side of him, one that you could’ve sworn wasn’t there. It seems as though he’s finally comfortable with you. Which is a really good thing, considering he’s spending the night in your place. 

He’s been the best distraction for you amidst everything. If he weren’t here, you’d be lying in your bed, probably crying your eyes out and dealing with the anxiety all alone. 

He’s the very last person you’d suspect would be here for you in a time like this. But, fuck, if you aren’t so happy that it is him.

And as time has gone on, you’ve both moved closer and closer to each other. His legs are spread out on the expanse of his cushion and yours, while your legs are slowly coming to rest on top of his, your body facing him. 

Every so often, his hand will find your calf as if he’s done it a thousand times before. An innate gesture that he hardly seems to notice he’s doing.

But you certainly notice, every single time it happens. Each brush of his hand against your skin causes your heart to flutter. It’s innocent, of course. But it’s the fact that he’s finally revealing himself to you, that he’s trusting you. 

It feels good. It feels really good. 

You’re listening intently as he’s telling you more about the music that has shaped his life up until now. You’ve never noticed all of his little mannerisms, like the way he brushes the tip of his nose after he laughs, or how his hands struggle to stay still when he talks. 

And his eyes, the way they beautifully catch the early light. Their color like a glass of honeyed whiskey over ice, glowing against the rays of the young sun. 

“...and that’s when I discovered the versatility of the SG. My dad searched the entire midwest until he finally found one for me.” The palm of his hand comes to rest on your leg again, only this time, it’s a little higher. His fingertips dare to brush the inside of your upper thigh, his thumb tracing delicate circles across your now trembling skin. The fire within you is growing, felt from the pit of your stomach to your swimming head. “That guitar taught me how to challenge myself. My dad encouraged me every day to keep playing and I’ll never be able to thank–” 

Something changes in his eyes, his expression faltering as he falls silent. There’s a sudden difference in him, one you can’t quite grasp.

And then he looks down at his hand still placed upon you, and with a thousand silent words, he removes it. Quickly. Like he didn’t realize it was there in the first place. Or, worse; like he was suddenly repulsed by the fact that he was touching you. 

The room changes abruptly, the air feels heavier, denser. You notice he avoids meeting your gaze, his thought left unfinished.

What have I done wrong?

“Jake?” 

He moves so he’s now sitting upright, as close to the other end of the couch as he can be. Furthest away from you.

“I should…I should probably get some sleep,” he says, the words sounding ever unsure. “And you should, too. We’ve only got…” He takes his phone to look at the time, breathing deeply from his lungs when he sees that it’s nearly six in the morning. “Jesus.” He runs a hand over his face in…frustration? Exhaustion? You can’t be sure. “We’ve only got about two hours until they allow visitors, and I’ve got to go to work right after.” 

You take the hint that he wants you away from him. 

But for what reason? Well, you’ll be left to wonder that for the next few hours, alone. 

You don’t say anything as you stand up, only nodding your head and shielding your face the best you can.

You don’t want him to see the new tears that have begun to surface. 

“Sorry,” is all you can muster as you open the door to your room. He doesn't respond, only pure silence comes from the living room. 

Whatever you did, it was enough to force him to realize he doesn't want to be close to you, emotionally or physically.

It was going so well. But, you ruined it. Just like you ruin everything else in your life. 

You’ve no doubt that you won’t be getting any sleep for the next few hours. Your thoughts are too loud, screaming everything you’ve ever done wrong in your ear. 

And you can’t get the look in his eyes out of your head, how they appeared uncomfortable being in your presence. How he suddenly decided he didn’t want to be around you. 

But, then again, you can’t blame him. Because who in their right mind would want to be around you?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The alarm on your phone is blaring. You’ve been  counting down the minutes until it was set to go off, laying in complete silence and watching nothing but the clock. Every second felt like twenty minutes in your brain.

When you walk out into the living room, you’re met with an empty space. No Jake. 

Did he leave…? 

The couch is back to normal, the blankets you gave him folded and sitting on the cushion under the pillow you let him use. (Your favorite pillow, but you’ll never tell him that you sacrificed it for him.)

Great. He’s gone. 

And you have no way of getting to the hospital without him. 

Natalia.

You’ll call her, see if she can take you. 

Which you shouldn’t have to do. He said he would take you, and he just fucking left. 

It’s safe to assume that whatever relationship you were building with him last night, has all but left the apartment with him. 

Deciding it’s not worth your time at this point, you grab your phone, unlocking it and tapping on Nat’s contact to call her. 

It’s ringing. And ringing. And ringing. 

Fuck. If she doesn’t answer, you don’t know what you’ll–

“What are you calling me so early on a Saturday for?” She finally answers, her raspy voice a clear indication that she’s just woken up.

“I need your help, Nat. Can you come get me and take me to the hospital?” 

You hear her gasp on the other end of the phone. 

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, her questions coming in quick succession. 

“To make a long story short, my car broke down at the Kiszka’s last night, so Jake had to bring me home. There was an ambulance when we got here, and it were here for my mom. They took her to the hospital, but I had to come separately. So, since I didn’t have my car, Jake took me. I couldn’t stay the night with her and when he brought me back home, he stayed the night to be here in the morning to take me back to her, but he left a while ago and I was hoping you could come get me.”

Even you can’t believe the words out of your mouth. A convoluted mess that you hope she’s comprehending at such an early hour. 

“Holy shit, y/n. Yeah, of course. Is your mom okay?” she questions after a brief moment of silence, probably in an attempt to understand the shit show you’re currently dealing with. “And where the hell did Jake go?”

“Wish I knew,” you say with a cynical tone. “And I don’t really know. They told me she was stable last night but they still needed to keep her. Since I was gone, I have next to no idea of what happened.”

Just as she begins to respond to you, you feel your phone vibrate against your cheek. 

“One sec, Nat. I think I just got a text.”

Jake: I’m outside in the car. Ready whenever you are.

“What the fuck, Jake,” you mutter softly, but loud enough that Nat heard you on the other end of the phone call you’re still on. He couldn’t have communicated this to you? 

No. Instead, he just made you believe he left. 

Either way, you’re glad he’s still here. He’s not that cold towards you. (Although you’re not exactly shocked at the fact that you didn’t question it when you thought he left.)

“What did he do?” You hear her say at a low volume. 

Bringing the phone back up to your ear, you say, “He’s still here, apparently. Just in the car waiting for me. I’ve got to go, I’ll keep you updated.”

With that, you hang up the phone and quickly begin to get ready. 

You take the first pair of leggings you see sitting in your dresser, then decide to throw on your vintage, oversized Billy Joel sweatshirt that you'd completely forgoton you owned. 

The state of your hair is one that you can’t do much with at the moment, you figure a messy claw-clip bun will have to suffice. You put a little moisturizer on your face, grab your belt bag and keys, and run out the door. As much as Jake has upset you in the last few hours, you still don’t want to keep him waiting any longer than he already has. 

He’s sitting in his car, just like he said. Wearing the infamous John Lennon frames that remind you of when you first encountered him. You had no idea at that moment, when he brushed up against you in the hall, when he tried to make you look like an idiot in class, that you’d be here with him. And if you’re honest, given the way he reacted to your closeness last night, you’re not sure this is much better. 

It’s like he wants to be closer to you, but when the time actually comes, he realizes it’s you he’s getting closer to, and backs off. And that effectively makes you feel about a hundred times worse than you did a few months ago. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were out here already,” you tell him as you open the passenger door and take a seat. 

“No problem.” He waits until you’re buckled and settled before he starts backing out of the spot, his right hand grabbing the head rest of your seat while he turns his body to have a better view of the back window. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The drive has been quiet, (shocker) save for his music. Something you can’t deny him is his impeccable taste, his taste that is so similar to yours. 

He must’ve taken notice of your Billy Joel sweatshirt, because, ironically, Vienna begins playing over the speakers. One of your favorites. And one that, without fail, makes you cry every single time. He probably queued it up because of your shirt, but little does he know of the deep, deep history you have with this song. 

He doesn’t know that your dad used to play this song while you were getting ready for school in the mornings, how he told you one time that he wanted to name you the title of this track, but your mom wouldn’t agree to it. But, that didn’t stop him from associating the tune with you. 

He called you his little Vienna for a good chunk of your childhood, up until you got to high school and asked him to stop out of embarrassment. You didn’t want everyone privy to your dads nickname for you. Just a normal, teenage thing. 

Then you remember…This was your dad’s sweatshirt that he gave to you a long, long time ago when he left for a work trip. You were devastated that he was going to be gone. He gave it to you for comfort, to keep a piece of him with you while he was away. 

And you chose to wear it today, of all days. When you need the extra comfort. When you know, deep down, that you need him. Your subconscious knew it. That’s why you gravitated towards this shirt without even realizing that you were. 

You’ve not heard this song since he left. Not even so much as thought about Billy Joel’s music, let alone this sweatshirt that somehow made the move to Michigan when you thought you got rid of everything from your dad. 

A single tear falls from your eye, landing on the top of your lip. You taste its salty presence before you wipe it away with the cuff of your (his) shirt. 

The lyrics feel heavier than they ever have. 

Why don’t you realize…Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize…

As the song comes to an end, as Billy plays the final note on his piano, you arrive at the hospital. (Something about it feels poetic.)

He stops at the main entrance of the hospital this time, instead of the emergency room one.

“I have to go into work,” he says while you’re unbuckling your belt. “So just text me and let me know when you’re ready to leave and I’ll come get you.”

“If it’s too much trouble for you, I can just ask Natalia.” You say as you get out of his car. “ I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She doesn’t work today, so it’d be easier for her.” 

Your tone is awfully cold. Distant. 

You feel like you’ve bothered him enough. So, you want to give him an out. He probably regrets ever helping you in the first place. 

His eyebrows become wrinkled underneath his sunglasses as he’s looking at you. Before you go to close the door, you hear him speak up.

“Well, that–that’s up to you, I suppose. But I don’t mind, y/n.” 

“I’ll let you know,” you say, staring down at your feet as you’re finding it difficult to make eye contact with him right now. “Thank you again.” 

And after that, you shut the door and walk towards the front door, hearing him drive away behind you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“She’s in room 430. Just take the elevator to the fourth floor and follow the signs. You’ll come up to locked doors, so you’ll have to buzz in with the phone on the wall. Just tell them your name and who you’re here to see, and they’ll let you in.” This receptionist is worlds kinder than the one you encountered last night. She’s got kindness inscribed in her dark eyes, and a smile that tells you she truly cares about her job. Her long curly locks are beautiful and charming, the color a lovely shade of auburn. Perhaps not natural, as her roots are nearly black. But this shade suits her skin tone perfectly. 

“Are there stairs I could take instead?” You ask the curly headed receptionist. Elevators are not your thing. You’ve had a lifelong fear of becoming trapped in one, and with your anxiety levels higher than usual today, it’s probably best if you avoid them altogether. 

She shows you a warm smile as she guides your sight in the direction of the staircase. Thanking her, you quickly head that way.

The climb up the stairs is grueling and as you finally reach the last step, you’re struggling to catch your breath. It seems you didn’t realize just how many steps there are in four flights. It’s a lot of steps. But, still much better than the chance of becoming trapped in a tiny ass elevator. 

After catching your breath, you take heed of the receptionist's directions and follow the signs that lead you in the direction of her room. And just like she said, there’s a set of locked doors with a phone hanging on the wall. 

As soon as you lift it from the receiver, someone answers instantly. You tell them your name and your moms. They verify her birthday with you and once you tell them the correct date, you hear the doors unlock. You thank them before hanging up the phone and heading down the long, somewhat eerie hallway. 

You’ve always wondered why hospitals look like this. The cold, stark white walls and matching laminate flooring, the harsh fluorescents that are painful to look at. Nothing about it is inviting or comforting in the least, and you’ve always thought they should be. Especially for long term patients that are stuck here for god knows how long. 

It just doesn’t make sense to you. In your mind, hospitals should strive to have a warmer environment, for nothing else other than to make people feel more at ease when they’re in hard situations. 

As you’re nearing the end of the hallway, you see room 428 on your left, 429 a little ways further on your right, meaning 430 is the very last one on the end to your left.

The door is open, and just as you’re approaching it, a nurse is leaving the room with her rolling cart that’s carrying a slew of things to check, what you’re assuming, are vitals. 

She smiles as she walks past you, her squealing cart still audible as she rounds the corner to the unit secretary desk. 

You’re still for a moment, standing just a mere feet from her. Out of her sight, of course. And she out of yours as you’re not standing in the view of the doorway. 

There’s a rush of hesitancy forcing you to stay where you are. You’re not sure where it’s derived from, perhaps it’s from the fear of seeing her in such a state. 

Perhaps it’s something else. But you don’t know what.

Finally deciding that just standing here isn’t doing you or her any bit of good, you put one shaky foot in front of the other and walk towards the open door. 

And then, you see her.

Looking the smallest she’s ever looked in your eyes. She looks too small for all of the devices she’s hooked up to. 

Tangled wires. A mess of tangled wires and tubes and IV bags…

As you walk in a little further, she hears you. Her eyes, ever slow in their movement, blink open and shift to you. 

They’re heavy, almost drooping down her pale cheeks. They look tired. So, so tired.

“Hi, honey.” Her words come through in a sad attempt of vocalization. You hardly understood her, more so relying on reading the movement of her lips than anything. Her hand, complete with an IV needle, raises to motion a weak wave at you. 

I wasn’t there. I wasn’t fucking there when she needed me. I can’t leave her…I can’t leave ever again. It’s all my fault.

“Mom I’m–I’m so sorr–”

“You must be y/n!” You hear a booming voice from behind you, interrupting entirely. When you turn around, you see an incredibly tall man wearing a set of blue scrubs with a white lab coat on top. “Your mom has told us a lot about you. I feel like I know you already.” 

As he reaches out his hand for you to shake, he smiles widely when you take it in yours. “I’m Doctor Roth. It’s nice to meet you.” 

He seems positive. The smile he’s wearing makes you believe that everything just might be okay. “It’s really nice to meet you, too,” you say, a little timid. 

You look back to your mom, who seems to have fallen back to sleep. Rest is probably the best thing for her right now, so you don’t want to wake her. Even though all you want is to talk to her, tell her how terrible you feel that you  weren’t there. But it can wait. As long as she’s resting. 

“Hey, y/n.” Doctor Roth pulls your attention away from her with his James Earl Jones-esque voice. “Would you mind coming to speak with me for a moment?” 

While his bearings have changed a bit, he’s still smiling. But, something is a little off in his tone with the question he asked you. 

“Um, yeah. Of course.” You tell him, although you’re not sure you want to have this conversation. 

Will he tell you that she’s progressed much further than you initially thought? That she’ll never leave this hospital again? She’s dying and will be dead soon? 

As he leads you down the hall, stopping at a little room near the restroom, your heart is thumping rampantly in your tightening chest. 

“Before we begin,” he says while pulling a wooden chair out for you to have a seat. “Is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee? I believe we have herbal tea, if you’d prefer.” 

Herbal tea always sounds wonderful to you, but you’re not sure you could even stomach a simple cup of water right now, so you politely decline his kind offer. 

“I would just like to ask you a few questions about your mom, if that’s okay.” He takes a seat directly across from you at the round table centered in the middle of the conference room. 

You nod your head, letting him know you’re okay with it. 

“I understand she is prescribed a series of medications for her pulmonary fibrosis. If my memory serves me correctly, she’s on Ofev, Pirfenidone and an anti-inflammatory. Is that everything?” He asks you, taking his rectangle frames off and placing them on top of his head.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You give her those pills every single night. You know their strange names by heart at this point.  “She also uses a few different inhalers to help airflow from her lungs. And she wears her oxygen about eighty percent of the time, of course.” 

“Right,” he says, blowing out a long sigh as he sits back in his chair. “Well, let me ask you this. When was the last time she took those medications? That you know of, of course.” 

“She took them last night before I left.” You answer, confidently. 

“Are you sure she did, y/n?” 

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” you say with a little offense. “I watched her take them before I left—” 

Then, you suddenly remember that you didn’t actually see her take them. You left them out for her and reminded her to take them before bed, but you didn’t see her take them. 

“I guess…I guess she didn’t take them before I left. But, I’m sure she took them before bed. She always does.” There’s a terrible feeling present within you, making your already turning tummy feel a lot worse. “Doctor Roth, why are you asking me this?” 

“There wasn’t any indication of them in her system when she came in. Usually, those drugs can be detected for a few days after they’ve been taken, but there was no sign of them in her bloodstream. Meaning, she hasn’t taken them in at least two to three days.” 

No. He’s wrong.

“That’s not possible. I give them to her every night. With the exception of last night, I always watch her take them. I make sure she takes them. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken.” Your offense has now shifted to full on defense. 

He’s questioning your ability to take care of her, and that is not something you will take lying down. There’s a whole list of things you’re terrible at, but taking care of your mom is not part of that list. You know that for a damn fact. 

You’re not going to sit here and take this, so you decide enough is enough and stand up from your chair to leave. 

“Y/n, please. I need you to listen to me. The progression of her disease, it’s…” That word. Progression. It stops you dead in your tracks. You hate that word. “...it’s the quickest I’ve ever seen in my fifteen years of practicing. If she were taking her medication as she’s supposed to, her lungs wouldn’t look as bad as they do. They would still look bad, but those medications help to slow the stiffening of her lungs. But with the state they’re in, it’s clear that she’s taken very little to no medications.”  

You’re not sure what to make of this…what is he saying? 

Well, clearly he’s saying that she’s not taking her medications…but how? 

You give them to her, you see her take them…right?

“Is—is there a chance her disease is just progressing more rapidly than what’s normally expected?” You hate saying those words. They feel like poison coming out of your mouth. But they sound better than “she’s not taking her medication.”  

He stands up from his chair to stand closer to you, taking his glasses off his head and placing an end piece on his bottom lip. “That is a possibility, although that doesn’t explain why we saw no signs of her medications in her bloodstream.” 

“Is she on them now? Is that why she’s so groggy?” You ask him, remembering how she was hardly able to speak or move when you saw her just moments ago. 

“Yes, she is. And that is another sign that she’s not been taking them as prescribed. Her body should be adjusted to the severe lethargy that these are known to cause, and it’s clear she’s not.” 

While you know Doctor Roth has no reason to lie to you, you still can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely. It’s not like your mom to do this, to not take care of herself. 

But there’s no sense in arguing with him anymore. It’s not worth it. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s here. 

And as that terrible thought resurfaces, you’re reminded of a question you need to ask him. 

“How much longer will she need to stay here?”

“I can’t be certain,” he answers. “But we’ll need to monitor her a bit longer, run a few more tests. At least another three days or so, but we’ll let you know when we believe she’s ready.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

She’s still fast asleep, having been for a few hours while you sit quietly on the stiff couch in the corner of her room. The room is small, stuffy. Her only source of entertainment is a tiny television mounted high on the wall. 

You know she hates it here. You hate it for her. 

But the one redeeming thing about this room is her giant window that offers a beautiful view of the city skyline. Detroit is always busy, always bustling. 

But it’s lovely, especially from this fourth story view. 

And it's a nice distraction from the beeping monitors and noisy machines. 

Nurses have been in and out every hour to check her vitals, making small talk with you while they record every result. They’ve all been so friendly, each one of them asking if they can bring you anything to eat. You’ve turned them down each time. 

Food hasn’t been your concern today. Wasn’t your concern yesterday, either. 

You’re hungry, that much you can tell. But you can think of a million things you’d rather do right now than eat. Eating would only increase your anxious thoughts, and that wouldn’t do you a bit of good at the moment.

You can just eat when you get home. You’ll last until then. (You’ve lasted a hell of a lot longer than this before.)

You suddenly feel the vibration of your phone still tucked away in the waistband of your leggings. 

To your astonishment, it's a text from Jake. 

You didn’t expect to hear from him, but seeing his name on the screen of your phone does feel nice. It feels really nice, actually. 

Jake: I meant to ask but it slipped my mind. How's your hand?

You’d completely forgotten about your hand. But Jake didn’t.

And it warms your heart that he thought to ask about something so meaningless to you. 

You look down to examine your fist to give him a proper answer. Aside from a slight purple tint on the skin, you wouldn’t be able to guess it was injured at all.

You: It’s much better. Some bruising but no more swelling and I can hardly feel it. The ice really helped!

He responds almost instantly, meaning he probably still had your messages still pulled up on his end. 

Jake: Good. : )

Jake, although he has his moments, is great at forcing a smile out of you when it feels impossible to do so. 

His message is reassuring, especially with how last night (early this morning, actually) ended. 

Before you can type out a response, you notice she’s beginning to stir just a bit. She’s done this periodically throughout the day, but this is the first time you’ve seen her open her eyes since this morning when you first arrived.

She turns her head a bit towards you, so you get up and move closer to her. 

“Hi, mom.” You say softly.

She smiles at you, the best she can despite every obstruction on her face. 

Just then, a nurse walks in for her hourly check. “She’s awake!” He excitedly exclaims. 

He’s young, probably a fresh graduate. You’ve seen him in here once before a few hours ago. He’s very sweet, the kindness you’d expect every nurse to have. 

He runs through her vitals quickly, telling you he wants to give you two plenty of alone time. 

You thank him as he leaves, and he flashes a sincere smile while he turns the corner of the hallway. 

Her eyes are suddenly glued to you, but not just you. Your sweatshirt. 

“Where’d you find that, honey?” She questions. 

“Oh, I don’t know I just— I’m not worried about it. I am worried about you. What happened last night, mom?”

You’re sure she recognizes that it’s your dads…and you feel terrible for wearing it around her right now for that very reason. You just didn’t consider it. So, it’s probably best to change the subject. 

She sits up a bit and you reach out to help her. You place her pillows in a way that keeps her upright without her needing to use much strength to do so. Once she’s comfortable, you sit down in the recliner next to her bed. 

“They’re telling me all kinds of crazy things,” she says. “I’m just fine, I know I am.” 

They’ve more than likely asked her about her medications, how they didn’t find any in her system. You want so badly to ask her about that. But, it’s not the time. Not yet. 

“I feel so bad, mom. I shouldn't have been out that late. I should’ve been there, I could’ve done something, I…” Your throat becomes tight with a lump, your eyes brimming with a hundred unshed tears. It’s just all too much. And you feel like you’re to blame. You just can’t shake that feeling. 

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl.” Her weak hand reaches out for yours. As you take it, you notice just how clammy she feels. “It would’ve happened whether or not you were there. I think it was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

She’s probably right. But, had you been there, maybe the ambulance would’ve been called sooner.

The ambulance. How did they…? “Mom, I have to know who to thank for saving your life.” The tears are streaming down your hot cheeks at this point. “Do you know who called?”

“Mrs. Sweeney,” she answers right away, as if it didn’t require any thought. “Bless her soul. She’s the sweetest lady. She heard me cry out just as I fainted, and called 911 for me.”

Mrs. Sweeney is your next door neighbor in your complex. She’s been the most wonderful neighbor to your and your mom since you moved in. It makes perfect sense that she’d be the one to call. 

“I’ll have to thank her,” you say, wiping away the tears. “She did what I should’ve been there to do.”

Her eyes suddenly widen, a stark contrast in how they’ve looked all day. “There’s…there’s no need, honey. I already thanked her. Called her last night, she’s been thanked plenty.” 

She could call Mrs. Sweeney…but not me?

“Oh. Well, okay," you say, confused. “I guess it would be beating a dead horse at this point to thank her again.” And with that, her eyes go back to their groggy state, closing slowly as she falls back to sleep.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“How is she?” Jake asks as you climb in the passenger's seat. He insisted on coming to get you as soon as visitings hours ended. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told you he was already on that side of town anyways, so he didn’t see the point in you asking Natalia to make the trip. 

“She’s…I don’t really know, to be honest.” It’s true. You don’t know how she is. You’re leaving the hospital with more questions than you had coming in.

His question…there’s just no easy way to answer it. “She’s okay, for now. But she…she may not be much longer. It’s…complicated.” 

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to. I’m glad she’s okay at the moment.” He tells you.

You smile at him, then relish in the silence the rest of the way home. 

You’re grateful that he’s not prying. It’s too much to talk about right now, and it seems he’s picked up on that. 

You breathe a deep sigh of relief when you arrive at your apartment, ready to climb in bed and try to get some much needed sleep. 

You thank Jake before he leaves, fishing for your keys out of your belt bag as you head up the stairs to the third floor. 

Once you make it to your door, you see Mrs. Sweeney leaving as you’re about to walk into your place. Your mom told you not to thank her again, but you can’t help it. You still haven’t thanked her, and it’s just not in your character to ignore a good deed from someone.

“Mrs. Sweeney?” You say as she’s locking her door. 

“Hi, dear! How's your mom today? I’m sure you two have had quite the night.”  

“She’s okay,” you say, the words feeling like a lie. “All thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough for calling the ambulance last night. Seriously, you saved her life when I wasn’t here–”

You stop talking once you see her expression change. She looks befuddled, almost disoriented. “Oh honey, I’m not the one who called last night. I thought you did, dear.” 

…she didn’t call? 

“But my mom said— you didn’t hear her call out for help?”

With a contemplative look, she puts her keys in her purse and faces you. “I didn’t hear anything. And I was home all night. This is the first I’ve left since yesterday morning. I’m sorry I didn’t hear her, dear. Were you not home?” 

As if it were even possible, there are more questions filling your head. 

“I wasn’t, but I’m sure one of the other neighbors called. Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Sweeney. I hope you have a good day!”

“Not a bother at all, love.” 

You walk into your empty apartment, in a near state of shock. 

Why did your mom lie to you? And so blatantly, at that? It’s not something you want to let yourself believe. Maybe it was because of her state, she was just confused after everything. But…she didn’t look confused. 

And she told you she talked to Mrs. Sweeney herself, which clearly didn’t happen. 

As much as you want to figure all of this out, you’re far too exhausted to give it much more thought. You need sleep. Sleep first, then you can get to the bottom of it. But for now, the only thing you’re craving is your bed. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A pounding on the door  wakes you from the depths of your slumber, nearly startling you off the bed in the process. The post nap disorientation is in full effect. The sun was still up when you laid down, and now your room is in almost complete darkness. 

The pounding on the door persists, forcing you to wake up all the way. Who in the world…?

Hesitant to answer with it being so late and being all by yourself, you reach for your phone in case you need to call someone.

And right as you go to grab, you realize you have four text messages from Nat. 

Nat: Are you home yet??

Nat: If you are, be ready to come outside in about 20.

Nat: Hello?

Nat: COME OUTSIDE! We have a surprise for you. 

Based on the messages, you’re realizing that Nat is the persistent knocker. You love this girl so much, and you’re hoping that whatever her surprise is was worth waking you up for. 

Also, you’re not sure what she meant  by “we,” though you’ve got a hunch it could be her new suitor. 

You: Sorry, just woke up. On my way

Summoning what little strength you have left, you force yourself to get out of bed and head towards the front door. Your feet are literally dragging as you walk across the dark apartment. Turning on the outside light, you swing open the door to Nat’s beaming, beautiful face adorned with a full toothed smile. 

“Hey there, sleepy head!” 

Bringing your hand up, you rub what’s left of your (very little) sleep from your eyes. 

“What’s your surprise?” You ask with a tired voice. 

“Hold out your hand,” she says, an enormous grin still across her face. “And close your eyes.”

With as heavy as your eyes still are, closing them isn’t an issue. (You just wish you were still in bed while doing it.)

You do as she says, and as soon as your eyelids are shut and your hands are outreached, she places something peculiar in your flattened palms. 

“What is thi–'' you begin to ask, interrupted by her as she practically yells for you to open your eyes. 

And when you do, you see a single key. 

But, not just any key. It’s the key to your shitty ass Firebird.

“What the hell? Natalia Delores, what did you do?” You ask her, having a good idea of what this is all about.

And then you hear a honking coming from the parking lot. As you look over the edge of the stairs, you see Danny’s curly brown locks hanging out of the driver's side window of your car. 

“Surprise!” She exclaims. “Dan the handyman fixed your car!” 

Cringing at the ridiculous nickname, you give her a huge hug before sprinting down the stairs to do the same to handyman Dan. 

“Did you realize you were missing your key?” He asks as he wraps you in a long embrace. 

“I had no idea,” you say, still held tightly in Danny’s muscular arms. “How did you guys manage to get it without me noticing?” 

“Jake,” Nat tells you. “He took it off your keyring this morning.” 

You’ve a good feeling that happened before you got up this morning, probably before he went out to wait in his car. 

Danny is the first to break the hug, leaving you on your own against the chilly night air. 

“Can I pay you for this?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest to act as a barrier from the cold. 

“Absolutely not. I won’t accept a single dime from you.” He insists, brushing a curl out of his face. 

“Danny, I know this was probably really expens–”

“Nope.” He interrupts. “Not a dime.”

With a fake grunt of irritation, you give in. (Partly so you can get inside and out of the cold.)

“Thank you. Thank you both, seriously. This is such a huge burden lifted.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Despite how things transpired with you and Sam, he’s still treated you the very same. You were terrified that there would be some awkward air with you two after the way you left him the other night, but it’s as if he’s all but forgotten about it. He still fawned over you when you arrived for filming tonight, him and Josh referring to you as “the queen” when you walked in, as usual. 

You haven’t told him about your mom. In fact, the only people who know are Jake and Natalia. You asked them both to not say anything. It’s not because you don’t trust everyone—they’ve all become some of the best friends you’ve ever had in your life, better than any friend you had back in Oklahoma. You just don’t want the attention that would inevitably bring. You don’t need them feeling sorry for you, and you don’t need them asking questions that you don’t want to answer, to questions you can’t answer. And you know it would lead to the fact that your dad doesn’t have shit to do with you. 

It’s just not something that needs to be advertised, not yet. You don’t want it to be the only thing everyone associates you with. You want them to still like you for you. Everything else can be addressed later. 

Of course, that did raise some other questions. Mostly about why Jake didn’t come home that night when your car broke down. His response to his brothers was simple; he just didn’t feel like driving back home that late, so he crashed on your couch. That wasn’t too far from the truth.

They didn’t even bat an eye at it. Just accepted it as fact and moved right on, not giving it a second thought. Jake is a bit distant from his brothers at times, so it’s probably not entirely out of the norm for him to not come home some nights. 

You’re glad that things have been pretty much normal for you and your filming crew.

While you’re not acting tonight, you decided to come over to the Kiszka place anyway, just to get away from your own mess for a little while. The apartment feels much bigger when it’s just you living in it. You love to have your alone time, but it’s been so much lately that your mind is going to some dark places, places that you’re forced to revisit when there’s no one else around to distract you.

So, suffice to say, you jumped at the opportunity when Josh asked you to come over tonight. He often invites you over on filming nights when your scenes aren’t being shot, says he enjoys your company and input on accuracies pertaining to the lore. You normally turn him down on those instances, feeling far too guilty for leaving your mom when you are filming. But with her still being in the hospital, you didn’t see the harm in taking him up on it this time.

Tonight's scene is between Arthur and Camille. Between Jake and Stacy. The first time you’ll see Jake as Arthur, and you’ll finally get to see for yourself what their on-camera chemistry is like. You’ve been told more than once that they’re great together, but now you have the chance to see it instead of just being told about it.

Although, you’re not exactly excited  to see them interact this way. And a huge part of you is hoping that they’ll royally suck together. You’ve been so busy that you haven’t had time to come watch their scenes, not that you’ve really tried that hard to do so. You could’ve if you actually wanted to.

But, you figured you’d rather see it in person than wait until the film is finished. And your imagination has run rampant with what they’re like together and the ‘not knowing’ has been painful. At least after tonight, you’ll know. You won’t have to wonder anymore, and it won’t be a surprise when you get to see the film in its entirety. 

Something you’re a little (more than a little, honestly) happy about is the fact that Stacy doesn’t have her “own” dressing room like you do. Granted, it’s Jake's room that has been designated as your changing space. But, still. She’s stuck using the guest bathroom to change in, and you can’t help the curling of your lips when you see her struggle to carry her costumes in there. 

Nat nudges your shoulder with hers when she catches your grin, letting you know that she saw that. You can tell by her features that she’s thinking the exact same thing.

“You know I need more details.” She says, hushed. 

You know exactly what she’s talking about, but you’ll play dumb anyway.

“Details?” You question with a look of false confusion. “Details about what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, y/n. Tell me more about Jake spending the night with you.”

You shush her as you lead her over to the dining table for a little more seclusion, both sitting in the chairs furthest away from the commotion in the living room where Josh and Malachi are busy adding the final touches to tonight's set.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering. Neither one of us could sleep very well, so we sat on the couch and talked for a bit, but that’s all.” You stare down at your thumbs as you twiddle them. You don’t really feel like mentioning him physically brushing you off when you both got a little too close for his comfort. You don’t even like thinking about it, let alone talking about it. 

Attempting to come up with something to change the subject, you feel terrible when you realize you’ve not even asked Nat anything about her and Danny. You perk up when at the opportunity to talk about something that isn’t the awkwardness between you and Jake.

“Speaking of details,” you say, sitting both your elbows on the table and resting your face in your hands, giving her your full attention. “I need you to tell me everything about you and Daniel this very minute. And don’t you dare leave out a single thing.”

A beautifully shy smile stretches her plump lips as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear. 

“Well, what would you like to talk about first?” She asks, her eyes lighting up. “The fact that we’ve seen each other everyday since our first date, or the fact that he’s the best I’ve ever had in bed?”

Your hands drop to the table, a stupidly massive smile plastered to your face. 

“Natalia!” You exclaim, scooting closer to her. “I can’t believe it, dude! So, are you, like, official? Or just fucking?” 

“Official,” she says, your mouth dropping from pure excitement for them. You can’t get over it. They make such a stunning couple. And she’s clearly so damn happy. That’s the most important thing. “And fucking,” she continues as you throw a hand over your mouth to muffle the laughter. “ A lot of it, too.”

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She looks breathtaking. Gorgeous. The pale shade of purple they have her in accentuates the emerald tones in her round eyes, the matching flowers in her braided hair look like a halo casted over her shiny, sunshine-yellow locks. 

Stacy’s appearance serves as a stark contrast to Guinevere’s. Her look embodies sweetness, innocence. While your character exudes sensuality as an adulteress with her black and red color palette, Stacy’s is meant to radiate charm and a sense of purity. Purity in the sense that, while she’s cheating with Arthur, she isn’t cheating on Arthur. 

Josh did this on purpose, to make Camille look innocent and unassuming, but in reality, she will be a catalyst in King Arthur's inevitable downfall. The fact that she’s an evil enchantress is hidden beneath her flowery looks. With everyone believing Guinevere to be the horrid seductress, no one would suspect that the true horror lies in the guise of Camille, who’s ever cunning under her false veil. 

Though you’re not surprised, she looks the epitome of sheer beauty. Walking perfection. And it’s a bit painful to see. She’s everything you wish you could be. 

You’re suddenly not sure you’re ready to see her interact with Jake in this scene. But, better now than later. Get it over with so you won’t have to wonder. You can sulk about it later when you have time to really feel your insecurities.

And now, here comes Jake. As if it weren’t hard enough to witness the utter beauty that Stacy carries, it’s an entirely different feeling with Jake’s. 

He looks…just so damn good. 

Tonight, instead of just the usual chainmail top and black trousers, he’s added a touch of regality with black velvet cloak over top, the very same one Josh promised him months ago. He looks like true royalty, exuding an aura of majesty, complete with a sword sheathed at his side. 

They both get settled in their respective places on set, and as soon as Josh yells “action,” a surge of unease radiates within you as you feel your whole body tense up.

As soon as they slip effortlessly into their characters, their obvious chemistry is instantly ignited before the camera. Every touch, every glance they share is loaded with an undeniable intensity. 

The way Jake's hand lingers on Stacy's waist, the way they lock eyes with such intensity…you can’t deny the fact that they’re wonderful together. Aesthetically, they just fit. Much better than you and Jake would, you’ve no doubt. 

When Jake speaks his first line, you’re shocked to hear him use a British accent. A horrible one, at that. 

You have to cover your face to hide the fact that you’re trying not to burst at the seams. But you’re not the only one. Nat has turned her head entirely in the direction opposite of you, which is probably a good thing. One glance at each other and you’d both break with boisterous laughter. 

Sam, however, makes no attempt to hide his true feelings. Standing right behind you, he loudly chuckles his classic, Sam laugh that makes it even harder for you to maintain composure.

Then, you hear a very audible groan from Josh, followed by yelling “CUT!” at the top of his lungs.

“Why did you stop us?” Jake blurts out, his arms flailing in obvious frustration. 

“I told you to use whatever creative liberty you deemed necessary for the character,” Josh confirms, both hands resting on his hips. “But I’ve asked, more than once, mind you, to not use that ridiculous fucking accent.”

Here we go. It just wouldn’t be a normal night of filming without at least several fights from the twins.

“It’s essential to the character, Josh. He is the legendary King of Britain, is he not?” His question is more like a statement, adding extra emphasis on the word “Britain” to secure his point.

“I told you, Sir Jacob.” 

Sir Jacob…?

“It doesn’t make sense if no one else is following suit with your shitty accent.” Josh continues. Jake flips a rather dramatic middle finger towards his twin, with Josh generously showing him the very same affection. 

“Alright. Take two of scene number 67,” Josh pauses a moment, waiting until they’re ready. “And…action.”

Thanks to Jake's “creative liberty,” you have to sit through the scene again, watching them and their perfect chemistry—again. 

And then…

…they kiss. The very moment you were not waiting for.

With the way his lips so passionately intertwine with hers, it’s clear they’ve done this more than a couple of times. And not only for the sake of the film. This kind of intimacy transcends the limits of film.

You and Sam had natural chemistry, but their chemistry goes miles beyond what you instinctively had with Sam. Theirs feels experienced. Experienced with each other. 

If there was any doubt lingering that they slept together that night after the haunted house, it’s all but confirmed for you now. 

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“When will your mom be ready to come home?” Nat asks you as the two of you are packing up the set.  

You quickly look around to be sure no one’s close enough to hear, the hesitancy to let everyone know is still hanging onto you tightly.

“Actually, she’ll get to come home tomorrow," you share with her. “She was good as new when I visited her today, and the doctor said she’s making huge strides.”

Your words carry a little unsureness. It’s not that you’re not happy to have her home, the apartment has been terribly lonely and you’re ready to get things somewhat back to normal. But, you can’t get rid of this feeling that something’s just not right with the whole situation. 

From the Doctor telling you there were no medications in her system to her telling you that she personally spoke with Mrs. Sweeney, thanking her for calling the ambulance, despite Mrs. Sweeney having no recollection of it and having not made the call to 911…There’s a web of uncertainty weaving in your brain. You know Nat can sense your apprehension based on the look she’s giving you as she places all the silk flowers neatly in their box. 

“You don’t sound too excited,” she observes. “Are you still thinking about what the doctor told you?” 

“I just can’t force myself to believe it. I know the evidence is there,” you remark, brows furrowed in confusion as you help her shove the ivy vines in the box with the flowers. “But it just…it doesn’t feel right, you know? Why would she do something like that?” 

Her eyes mirror the same questions plaguing your mind, the empathy ever present in them. You know she understands your confusion, her support has been a comfort during these last few maddening  days. (Though you still haven’t told her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You suppose that can wait until you’ve had enough time to process it.)

“But, I am happy that she’ll be home. It’s been so weird not having her there.” Once you get the last of the silk plants packed up, Nat takes the packing tape and adds a few pieces along the center to secure it for safekeeping. 

“I’m just worried about getting her up the three flights of stairs to our place,” you continue. “The elevator went out again and she can’t really climb them on her own. And I’m not strong enough to get her up myself.” You look to her with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll pick up on your silent request for help. 

“You know I would help if I could, y/n. But I’ll be out of town all day tomorrow with Danny visiting his family.” She tells you. You can tell by her tone that she feels bad, but it’s not her fault. 

“Well,” she says, contemplating her options. “Maybe I could just drive myself, so that way I could leave and come help you with your mom and then go back when she’s all settled.” Her offer is undeniably kind, but you can’t bring yourself to allow her to do that. You don’t want to be the reason her whole day is disrupted. 

“No, no. It’s totally okay, babe,” you acknowledge, grateful that she’d even consider such a thing. “We’ll manage. Thank you, though. I appreciate you a lot.” 

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear someone shuffling around in the kitchen. Looking in that direction, you see Jake gathering a few things to prepare dinner. 

“I can help you tomorrow, y/n.” He says, back turned to you and Nat. “Just let me know when.” 

You and Nat share a knowing glance that says what you’re both collectively thinking. 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s offering, given how much he helped you that night and the next day. But, you still can’t help feeling shocked at his proposition.  

“S-sure, Jake.” You say. “I’ll text you the time.” 

But as you accept his offer, gratitude mixed with trepidation floods your thoughts. You’re suddenly mortified at what he may have heard you and Nat talking about, surrounding your unease with your mom’s situation. 

How long had he been standing there?

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“So this is the famous Jake,” she remarks as you wheel her through the automatic doors to Jake, who’s standing outside his Range Rover ready to help her into the passenger’s seat. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as she makes it obvious that you’ve talked about him to her before. 

Meanwhile, Jake’s lips curl in a playful grin at her statement. “Nice to finally meet you,” he says, extending a helping hand as you begin helping her out of the wheelchair and onto her feet. You try to avoid making eye contact with him as you and he position yourselves on either side of her, helping to stabilize her as she walks towards the car. But he isn’t trying to avoid it. Each accidental glance his way is met with his mischievous eyes fixed on you, his grin remaining ever present. Together, combined with what little strength she has, the three of you successfully settle her into the car without any issues. 

Taking the middle seat in the second row, you buckle up as Jake starts the engine and begins the drive to your place.

You didn’t consider the fact that she would probably bombard him with personal questions, and that’s just what she does the entire way home. She asks him all the basics, probing into his background and interests with relentless questions. His answers are pretty short for the most part, not getting very personal with her curiosity. (Sounds familiar.) But it’s her next question that has you wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Are you single?” She inquires innocently. (Although it’s perhaps not very innocent, given what you’ve told her about him.)

In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you see Jake’s eyes widen, mirroring pure shock. You bring your palm up to rest against your forehead, silently wishing to teleport to your apartment and end this agonizing drive once and for all.

But when he answers, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. 

“I, uh, guess you could say I’m single. I’ve been dating casually, nothing serious though.”

At his mention of “casual dating,” your mind instantly begins reeling and going straight to Stacy and the possibility (likelihood) that he’s been dating her. It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you’re nothing to him, after all—but the sting of his words still linger in the air, leaving you feeling so small. Perhaps if you looked like Stacy, he’d be just as interested in “casually” dating you. 

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“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She offers once the three of you make it up to the third floor of your complex. “I’m sure y/n could whip up something quick for us.” A bit of annoyance washes over you with her offering for you to make dinner for everyone. She obviously can’t, but the fact that she just decided you didn’t have anything else to do besides making dinner for three people? Maybe you’re overthinking it, but it’s not sitting right with you at the moment. 

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation finally catching up with you. Or it’s your mind swirling with a million things at once. The doctor's words, Jake dating Stacy, the burgeoning voice insisting that you don’t eat. (And eating around other people right now is just far too much.)

“Thanks for asking, but I have to get back to work,” he tells her as he’s helping her in the door.

“What do you do for work, Jake?” She asks. But before he gives himself the chance to answer, he’s telling you both goodbye as he quickly heads out the door.

…okay? It’s such a simple question, why couldn’t he answer it?

While you’re standing here, confused and baffled by his actions, your mom seems to have not even noticed it as she’s now seated on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels to find one of her shows. 

“When will you be ready for dinner?” She asks you, not even looking your way as you're standing dumbfounded in the middle of the living room. Trying to shove down your frustration, you take her hint that she’s ready to eat and head into the kitchen to prepare tonight's meal. 

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You greet Jake with a sincere smile as you take your seat in Movacks class, only to be met with a simple nod as he looks away from you. 

“Mornin, Jake!” You chirp, summoning your best “Oklahoma” intonation like he brought up the other night, hoping to coax a smile from him. But you're left feeling utterly humiliated as he doesn't even acknowledge you, opting instead to focus on his phone. It's as if you didn't say a single word, leaving you feeling like an actual imbecile for the obnoxious display you've just made. It’s rather clear he wants nothing to do with you today, his pissy mood a good indication that you should probably just keep to yourself. No need in furthering his frustrations with the annoyance that is you.

You’ve tried to ignore the fact that he’s become considerably more distant with you since he helped you bring your mom home the other day. You’ve not even heard from him since then, and given how invested he seemed to be with the whole thing, it’s almost like he’s completely left in the past at this point. 

“I trust you all read the poems you were assigned with your project partner last time we met,” proclaims Dr. Movack as he walks into the room just as class is set to begin.

You and Jake were assigned Sir Lancelot and Guinevere by Alfred Tennyson, a poem that delves deeply into the forbidden affair. A bit of an unwitting irony when considering the depths of your project. He seemed out of sorts about it when you were given the poem to analyze last class period, acting as though it was a chore to have to read it. But you were excited about it, for very obvious reasons as it’s yet another layer added to your research on the character you’ve been playing. 

"Alright, everyone," Dr. Movack announces, starting the timer on his phone. "For the first twenty minutes of class, I want you to pair up with your partners and discuss your individual analyses of the piece you were assigned."

With a hefty sigh, Jake pivots his upper body towards you. “Thoughts?” He asks as his hands gesture for you to begin the conversation, clearly annoyed at this whole thing. (As if it’s your fucking fault you’re his partner.)

“Well,” you start, still taken aback but his brash behavior towards you for, as far as you can tell, no logical reason. “It compares their love to that of nature, while also equating Guin’s beauty to the same thing, making it seem as tho–”

“Kay.” He abruptly cuts you off, turning himself around so he’s no longer facing you, arms crossed and a vexed look about his pretty face. Clad with his John Lennon glasses, reminding you way too much of your initial interactions with him.

“I…I wasn’t done, Jake,” you state, sternly. 

“What else do you need to say?” He implores, his tone making sound more like a harsh statement than a question.

“I also need to say that its theme is a balance of pain and joy, of knowing that they can never truly have each other the way they desire, but celebrating the profound joy they do experience in their shared moments,” 

“The poem constructs the idea of Lancelot tending to the needs of Guin much more tenderly and passionately than Arthur could have ever done for her,” you suggest, pushing him to give you more than what he’s been giving you thus far. (Which has been absolutely nothing.)

But… it didn’t work. You lost him. It was as if the last word out of your mouth shut him completely down. You see through the wire earpiece of his staple Ray-Bans as his eyes close. A hand slowly goes up to rub his temple. 

One more shot. 

“What do you think about—?”

“What the fuck did they teach you in Oklahoma?” He fumes, suddenly and unexpectedly, his head snapping in your direction.

“What?” You blink a few times, surely hearing him wrong. 

“This stupid ass shit you’re spewing,” he growls, turning away from you once again. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?” Okay, you were nearly certain you had heard him correctly. And the way his mouth was set in a straight, unchanging line of ire told you as much.

“I’m so tired of this back and forth game where you think your little hick town brain can get you anywhere in a place like this,” he mumbles angrily, ripping open his journal and book to take his own notes. “It’s not cute to use what little knowledge you came here with as a point of intellect. It doesn’t work to prove anything. We all know the backwoods girl who is hiding underneath this fucking charade you’re displaying for everyone.” 

Your throat constricts, growing tighter and tighter as tears wet your eyes, threatening to fall. He rakes his fingers haphazardly through his shoulder-length, waving locks. With fists clenched, nails pinching your skin where they dig into your palms, you want to grab him by his hair and force him to fully face you again. 

He needs to not be a coward when he says shit that makes your heart quite actually break, crookedly down the middle. Your heart that can only take so fucking much.

He turns, just slightly. His jaw is tight, flexing beneath his frustratingly beautiful skin. How could one man encapsulate so much? One second, he’s driving you here, there, and everywhere—making you feel at ease in a time of desolation. And the next, he’s mocking you for your heritage—calling you out and chiding you for something you can’t help or control. 

A state that, in this moment, you realize you’re proud to represent in some way (you grew up there, the place raised you). You’re feeling some strange, burning need to defend it. 

His body is swiveled back around to fully face you when he rips his glasses off of his face. You fear momentarily of him breaking the delicate metal, but you soon forget the thought when you notice his expression. 

His eyes are flaming, indignant — pure fire in the sweet honeyed bourbon hue of his irises. A fire that infiltrates something so sweet and almost pure… almost. It’s Jake, for God’s sake; he can only get so pure. The word doesn’t even come close to fitting his demeanor at this moment.

The way he looks at you, making you want to crawl completely out of your skin.

“I don’t want you to insert an opinion on this material that is founded on the bullshit they teach you in tiny towns like Cherry-fucking-Tree,” he spit. “It’s a waste of my time and energy to even entertain the ideas that circulate in your mind full of, at best, average thought processes.”

Average. Just an average, hick girl. From the shitass town of Cherry-fucking-Tree. 

Average—Worthless. Just like the town you come from. How could you ever be anything coming from a place like that?

The tears begin cascading down your cheeks before you can even think to challenge them. There is no point in stopping the pools that are leaving your eyes in steady tracks down your hot cheeks. You’re shaking—shivering with equal parts twinging sadness and unkempt rage.

You let them fall momentarily, in shock as his eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering and loathsome of you. In his eyes, you watch every negative emotion he feels for you pass through them. 

“Fuck you, Jake.” Your words are stern, louder than you expected. Yet, you don’t care–because your voice conveys all of the hurt you’re encompassed with. 

And as you utter the cold words, you notice that the rest of the classroom is dead silent. A quick glance out of your peripheral vision confirms that all their heads are turned towards you and Jake.

But the eye contact with him doesn’t break. As much as you hate when people see you cry, you need him to see the hurt he’s caused you. 

“I have heard quite enough out of the two of  you!” Shouts Dr. Movack from his place at the podium. Still yet, neither one of you looks away from the other. “You both need to leave my classroom, immediately!”

“Gladly,” you shout, tossing your things in your bag with such a force that causes Jake to wince with each thing you throw in. 

He begins doing the same, matching your frustration with heavy hands. 

You don’t want to walk out with him, so before he can finish, you begin stomping through the classroom, brushing past Dr. Movack once you make it to the door. 

“Expect zeros for today's participation!” He proclaims, but you’re already halfway down the hall. 

Heavy streams of tears drench your face as you pick up the pace to get the fuck out of this godforsaken building before Jake can catch up to you. 

You can’t stand the sight of him right now, you can’t even fathom ever speaking to him again. His words cut deeper than any knife ever could, of that you’re certain. 

It hurts, it really fucking hurts. 

“Y/n, please wait, I–I’m sorry,” you hear in the distance as you’re crossing the street to the parking lot where your car sits. “I didn’t mean—fuck.”

The sound of the voice is unmistakable.

It’s Jake’s. You can discern it from the one he wielded like a weapon, his tool of choice to dismantle and destroy you, word by hateful word.

He calls for you again, but you choose to ignore his pathetic attempt at an “apology,” jumping in your car and starting the engine, wiping the excess tears away that are constricting your vision.

You briefly look up as you shift the gear into drive, catching sight of Jake’s defeated form standing on the last concrete step of the stairway leading to the doors of Angell Hall. 

And as you’re backing out of your spot, he rips his glasses off, tossing them to the ground with a force that very obviously shatters them. 

You know he was probably just speaking out of pure anger, but where that anger is derived from is what you don’t understand. You’ve not done anything so bad to him to deserve any of what he just threw at you.

But no matter where it came from, he had no fucking right to speak to you the way he did. 

Not finding the strength within you to turn back and go to him to hear his apology, you drive away and leave him there to deal with what he’s done alone. 

While there’s a part of you that wants to hear his explanation, you don’t owe it to him to give him the chance. It’s not worth your time at this point. He’s made it known that you’re nothing but a massive pill in his life, that he would probably be much happier without you in it, ruining it with every backwoods word you speak.

He watches you as you drive away, his features as cold as if they were carved in the very stone he’s standing on, unreadable even from a distance.

Tears begin brimming in your ducts yet again as you turn onto the street to head home, him now fully out of your sight. 

It's unfathomable how someone could harbor such hatred towards you, and yet, despite it all, you can't shake the intense desire you still feel for him. 

It just doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense.

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The squeaky wheels of the wooden library cart echo throughout the entire building with each push. The screeching metal wheels send a chill up your spine each time you move, and you’re silently apologizing to everyone in here for the obtrusive noise. With midterms officially over as of last week, everyone has been dropping their books off in piles the past few days. After sorting through them all, making sure to note who returned their books on their account, it’s finally time to put them back on the shelf. 

As much as you hate the squeaky cart, this is your favorite part of the job. It gives you the chance to conduct a very detailed tour of the library on your own terms, truly allowing you to see it all. There’s no lack of discovering something new each time. You love this old building, and you love the smell of the books. The scent was the first thing you noticed when you walked in here for the first time all those months ago, and it still remains your favorite smell in the world.

As you look towards the end of the long Political Science aisle you’re standing in, you suddenly catch Nat peeking her head around the corner, waving at you while her clunky brown boots click as she walks your direction. 

“Need any help? It’s dead as a doornail up there and I’m bored as hell.”

“Sure, Mr. Dickens,” you joke at her nod to a literary classic. “I’ll gladly accept your help.”

She begins helping with your task, finding a certain peace in her company amidst the quiet library.

“I can’t find where this goes, any clue?” You ask, holding up the book on the tools of presenting a good argument. She takes it from you and examines it a bit, reading the faded numbers on the spine. 

“Well, I see why you’re having trouble,” she says, full smirk across her blush pink, glossy lips. “It’s marked wrong. This goes in General Law.”

With a playful wink, she gestures toward the correct section to guide you to its proper place on the shelf.

“How’s your momma?” She asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s okay. She’s home, and she’s alive…it’s all just so strange.” You shelve the last of the political science books stacked on your cart, wheeling it around the corner to the General Law section as Nat follows close behind. “There’s still so many unanswered questions. I just can’t figure out who called the ambulance.”

“Wasn’t it your neighbor?” She asks, helping you maneuver the heavy cart around the tight corner. 

“That’s what I thought,” you answer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you remember the strange conversation you had just days ago with Mrs. Sweeney. “But she told me she didn’t make the call. She said the ambulance just showed up. I asked her if she heard my mom calling out for help, or anything from our apartment that sounded concerning, something that would prompt an emergency call…and she said no.”

Nat matches your confused state, stopping to take in everything you’d just told her. “That just doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “Is it possible that she called for the ambulance?”

“My mom?” You hadn’t even considered the possibility. And, she would’ve told you…right? You don’t know why you’re so desperate to know, why it’s keeping you up at night that Mrs. Sweeney told you she didn’t call, that your mom had basically lied to you about the whole thing. “I–I don’t think so, Nat. She was completely unresponsive when they found her.” 

Now the wheels are turning. Maybe it was her, and perhaps she just…didn’t tell you? Is she trying to hide something? It just doesn’t feel likely but…possible, you guess. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her. Putting this whole thing to rest would make it so you can finally rest.

“Well, like you said,” Nat utters, breaking you free of your relentless, turning mind. “She’s alive. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Of course that’s all that matters. But, you can’t help the feeling that there’s more to this than what you’re able to see, more that’s being hidden beneath the seemingly cracked surface. It could just be your anxious tendencies, telling you to worry when there’s truly nothing to be worried about.

Or, your gut feeling is correct. There’s something you’re not aware of that feels big.

You begin wheeling the now empty cart back to the circulation counter to grab another lot of books, Nat leading the way ahead of the obnoxious wheels. 

“Right,” you answer, deciding to push aside that worry for the time being.

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“Do you have any idea why Jake despises me? Like, has he ever said anything to you or Josh? Or Malachi?” You ask as you fill the cart with the next bundle of books to be put up.

“He doesn’t despise you, y/n. I know his exterior is rough, but there’s not an ounce of hate in that boy's heart. Just give him more time. You’ve seen it, you know he’s a good one.” 

You know deep down that he is, that he’s got a good heart with good intentions. But, there’s something about when he starts to become close to you that forces him to back away, to treat you like you’re a nuisance. He can shove his hatred for you down long enough, until he can’t and it comes out of him like he was accidentally hiding it.

“He does hate me, Nat. You can’t deny the way he acts when I’m around, like I’m the biggest burden that could’ve possibly been placed upon him.” You roughly toss the final book on the cart, wincing at the loud noise it made that you didn’t quite mean to happen. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke to me the other day, Nat. He belittled me in class. I have never been so humiliated and disrespected before in my life. Pretty sure I’m nothing more than walking garbage to him.”

“I hate to interrupt your little drama fest, but you are not the biggest burden in his life. There’s a lot you don’t know about him.” She says, frustration in her tone as she intervenes, slamming a book down on the cart just like you did. “I will stick up for you, y/n. But I also know things about him that you don’t.”

“That’s the problem. I know nothing about him. He doesn’t want me to know him. He’s built this wall around himself and refuses to let me in. He almost did the other night at my apartment, but when he realized he was getting a smidge too close to me, he shut down again. He’s the never ending enigma, one that just so happens to hate my guts.” Your words hang heavy in the air, a tense silence grappling them as you’re left with the realization of just how complex your relationship with Jake is, and it’s not by your choice. 

“I know he can be closed off, and I know he can be an asshole sometimes. Trust me. But you need to know a few things. He’s been through the ringer, multiple times.” She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, stopping you as you begin to walk away to put the books up, silently urging you to consider another perspective. 

“He and his brothers were adopted by their grandparents after their mom and dad were killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. It left all of Frankenmuth completely devastated.”  

His parents.

You’d never even once thought about where they were, or who they were. Being so caught up in your own shit, you hadn’t even considered…

Fuck.

“Their dad was in a local band,” she continues, taking a seat in the rolling chair behind the counter. “They never made it big beyond the area, but god, everyone in town loved them. And when Jake was about ten, he started playing with them. Playing the guitar his dad bought him, the one sitting in his room. He worked his ass off to buy that for Jake. They were killed only a few months after the first time he joined them on stage.”

When she mentioned his guitar, it all of a sudden reminded you of the night at your apartment. The night he became so disgusted by you right before he could finish talking about…

…about his dad. And the guitar he bought him, the very same one Nat is telling you about right now. You know this because you instantly took note of the SG sitting in his room the first night you stepped foot in there, and that’s the exact model he was talking about that night…the one he said defined him as a player, the one his dad searched high and low for. 

Oh my god.

“When they died, they moved in with their grandparents. But they owned an apartment complex in Detroit, so they had to move here with them. That’s when I met them, when they started school at Central High.”

You just nod in response, needing a second to fully absorb her words that are beginning to paint a much clearer picture of Jake. 

“Then, their grandma suddenly died. They were devastated, didn't come to school for weeks.” Her voice softens, her expression reflecting the weight of all the loss they had endured at such young ages. “They had to help their grandpa with the complex, learn how to run the business. Which turned out to be a good thing, because he got sick a few years later. Pancreatic cancer. The boys ended up dropping out of college for a bit to take care of him, to essentially take over acting landlords.” 

“Nat I can’t…I can’t believe it. I had no idea…” Your brain is struggling to process it all. And if it’s that hard for you to imagine, it must have been hell for Jake and his brothers to live it. It was their reality. But to you, it’s utterly heartbreaking. Unfathomable. 

 “They never left his side, especially Jake. He was with him twenty four seven, and when he died, Jake kind of became a recluse.”

The compassion you’re feeling for Jake and his family swells your heart as you’re realizing the depths of his burdens. His guarded nature suddenly makes a lot more sense as everything she’s telling you is fully sinking in. The old saying is true; you truly never know what someone is going through, what someone has been through. 

Regardless of how he’s acted towards you, you’re feeling a lot of guilt for being so quick to judge him. 

“Jake was the only one with him when he died. Matter of fact, he died in the exact same hospital your mom stayed in. I bet it was kind of hard for him to be there, but he stayed for you, y/n. That is the real Jake.”

Jake was committed to you that night. Stayed with you in the hospital that holds so much weight for him. Even in the midst of his own pain, he stayed with you. It explains so much.

“What happened to the complex? After their grandpa died?” 

“They live in it,” she answers with a grin. “They’re landlords. It was their inheritance. And as hard as it was for them to take over ownership as college students, they made it work. The three of them make one hell of a team.” 

You didn’t know what Jake did for work, but owning an apartment complex with his brothers was not on your list of possibilities. An extremely nice complex, at that. 

“Why didn’t any of them mention this to me? I get Jake but, Sam? Josh?” You can’t help the mix of surprise and confusion, wondering why they hadn’t shared such a big part of themselves with you. It’s their job. And you’ve never known anyone to keep something like that from you. 

Although it does make sense if they didn’t want it to lead to a deeper conversation about their losses. Maybe they’re the same as Jake in that aspect. They just don’t like to talk about hard things.  

Then, you remember how you’ve kept your life a secret from them, too. The only reason Jake knows about your mom is because he just happened to be there. But he knows nothing else. Your dad… he hasn’t and will probably never be mentioned with him. With any of them. And it’s not because you’re ashamed; it’s just not something you want broadcasted. 

“They don’t care for the attention it garners,” she explains. “And they probably didn’t want you to treat them any different. The only reason I know about it is because of my brother, and he’s the one that told me everything else about what they’ve been through. They really don’t like to talk about any of this stuff,” she adds, her voice heavy with sympathy. “They don’t want it to define them.”

“I can definitely understand that.” You say with deeply rooted empathy. Your heart aches, for all of them. But, you can deny the extra twinge of softness you feel for Jake. For him to have shoved all of this down the way he has, it’s no wonder he acts the way he does. It doesn’t completely excuse it, but it sure as hell makes a lot of fucking sense. 

The amount of pain they’ve experienced in their lives, losing practically everyone important in their lives. They’re not only bonded by brotherhood, they’re bonded even tighter because of everyone they’ve lost. All of them being so close to them, raising them. They’ve lost almost everyone who was ever important to them, being left with just each other to lean on. It all makes sense, and as much as he’s hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to keep holding it against him. 

He’s hurting, too. 

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Carrying the third laundry basket up the stairs from the in-building laundry, you’re wondering just how two people have managed to collect so much clothing. You try to designate time each week specifically for laundry, but you’ve gotten so far behind on it that it’s become a little overwhelming. Each basket of clothes you’ve washed and brought back up to the apartment has been overflowing. You’re sure you’ll discover a missing sock or a pair of underwear or two that fell during the journey back to your place, but you’re not about to go back and find out.

You’re finally done washing everything. Now, the worst part: putting it all up. You decide to put that part off for a little while to get caught up on the rest of the chores that need to be done tonight. 

The dishes are next on the list. You usually don’t mind doing them, but your dishwasher decided to quit on you and the landlord is in no hurry to come and fix it. So, you’re stuck hand washing the pile that has somehow accumulated significantly over the last few days. 

With a resigned sigh, you roll up your sleeves and begin scrubbing away at the stack of plates and utensils. The warm water soothes your hands, and you find a sense of rhythm in the repetitive task. 

Your mind starts to drift to the other tasks that still need to be taken care of. The vacuuming, tidying up the living room, perhaps taking out the trash if you can muster up the energy.

But for now, you decide to focus on the task at hand, finding a strange sort of comfort in the motion of washing and rinsing each dish.

Despite the annoyance of hand washing dishes, there's a strange comfort in the routine of it all. With each plate cleaned and set aside to dry, you feel a small sense of accomplishment. 

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You peek around the door frame to see her lying in the same spot she has been for the last few hours, still grazing her plate of food you gave her and watching something mindless on the television. She hasn’t noticed you standing there yet, and just as you’re about to say something, you notice she’s not wearing her oxygen. 

“Mom,” you assert as you storm inside of her room, the frustration in your voice apparent. You grab her nasal cannula sitting on her nightstand and help her put it on. “How long have you not been wearing it?” 

She takes a deep breath as she further adjusts the tube to her face, letting out a dry cough from deep in her chest. “I’m fine, sweetie. I won’t keel over  if I go without it for a little bit. It’s just so invasive, I hate wearing that damn thing.”

“That is not what the doctor said.” You check her tank to be sure she’s getting enough to compensate for however long she’s kept it off. “And based on how horrible your cough sounds, you need it right now. Please, mom. You have to follow their orders. You don’t want a repeat of the other night, do you?”

She sits herself up a bit, as well as she can. Smiling at you and nodding, she says, “I know, I know. Your momma is just a little stubborn sometimes. What would I do without my sweet daughter to take care of me?” You smile back at her, but it quickly fades as you're reminded yet again of the other night and the questionable events that transpired. 

She picks up on your sudden change in expression. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She asks with wary concern. 

You decide that right now is as good a time as any to ask her your burning question. With a heavy breath, you take a seat on the edge of her bed beside her. Clearing your dry throat, you say “I have to ask you something.” 

“Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” Her eyes watch you with a gentle kindness about them that you’ve always loved about her, but right now, along with the kindness there are a thousand secrets as dark as her pupils. It casts an unease in your spirit that is brand new to you, yet feels oddly familiar all at once. Has it always been there and you’ve just never noticed? Have you just denied it?

You can’t decipher why you’re so nervous to ask her. You shouldn’t be; it’s a simple question. But you feel this heaviness deep within your body that you can’t explain. An intuition that something is awry, perhaps? 

You’ve never once doubted your mom. You’ve always trusted her with everything for the simple fact that she’s never given you cause not to. But you can’t deny that something feels…off. And as she’s looking at you right now, you’re suddenly not sure you recognize the woman sitting before you anymore. Something is different. Everything is different. 

And you don’t know why you feel this way. But you do. And denying it further will only cause you to descend into a maddening cycle of endless wandering.

Her eyes are flicking back and forth between yours, her eyebrows are scrunched and her thin lips are slightly agape. With a curious nod of her head, she quietly signals you to just ask your damn question. 

“Did…” Your tight voice cracks and as she grabs your hand to try and comfort you, you find your voice to continue. “Did you call 911 that night?” The words flow out of your mouth like a river with no end, a strong current that knocks you into the depths of the raging waters. 

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls the rest of the way open. Her hand slowly moves away from yours as her eyes stay steady on you. A look of pure shock washes over her face as she’s quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

“I thought we agreed on Mrs. Sweeney calling.” She finally asserts, her voice suddenly much more strong and clear than it has been in a long time, startling you. “I’m not sure why you’re still on this, y/n.” Her tone is sharp as a blade, penetrating you each time she utters a word. She’s almost defensive, angry. Her eyes are narrowed on yours, unblinking and stilled. 

“I just…you’re right. I’m sorry, I must've forgotten.” You manipulate your tone to sound more sure, more accepting than you truly feel. You decided against telling her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You’ve a solid feeling it may not go over well if you tell her what was said. There’s a queasy feeling in the pit of your belly telling you to just shut up. A feeling you’ve never felt with your mom before. You’ve always known you could go to her for anything. Right now, you feel like shutting down completely. 

Her gruff features soften back to the way you’re most used to them, her smile taking over her thin scowl. However, the kindness in her eyes that was mixed with secrets earlier, has shifted to the secrets taking command. You don’t know who she is right now. And you’re wondering if you’ve ever truly known.

“It’s okay, honey. I know you’re awfully busy these days. I’m so proud of you.” Her tone has gone back to its weak, hushed quality. What was once a comfort to you, now feels quite the opposite. And something about her compliment felt…forced. Like she only said it as a distraction. And her voice changing on command, like that was forced, too. As if you weren’t feeling off about this whole thing enough, this has made it ten times worse.

Before you can figure out what to say, you catch the time from her nightstand clock out of the corner of your eye. Realizing it’s well after ten o’clock, you immediately step back in your caregiver shoes. It’s over an hour past time for her to take her evening medications. You grab the three bottles sitting next to the clock, dumping one pill out of each in your hand and setting them back down, taking the half-full glass of water in your hand next.

“Take these really quick.” You say as you hand her the pills and the glass. “I’ll get you more water once you’re done.” 

She nods, tossing all three pills in her mouth and downing the rest of her water before handing the glass back to you. 

Standing from the edge of her bed to head to the kitchen, you tell her you’ll be right back with her water. Without a word, she just smiles your way as you walk through the door.

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It’s nearly three in the morning and you’ve still not gone to bed. With as much time as you’ve had to dedicate to your mom, the apartment upkeep, work, and filming all while attempting to maintain a rather poor excuse for a social life, school and homework have been on the very bottom of your priority list. And that is very much not like you. Your grades have suffered the last few weeks. You’re falling behind, nearing the point of no return. So, sleep isn’t much of an option right now. Hasn’t been for several nights. It’s the only time you’ve got to do something for yourself. Even something as grueling as English homework. 

Tonight's task is to complete your paper on Carmilla for your Classic Horror course, but the words aren’t flowing as seamlessly as they should. As much as you want to be able to focus, you just can’t. You can only manage to get out a few sentences at a time before you have to stop and regather your train of thought. You keep checking your phone, scrolling through mindless social media, getting up to get a drink, anything that might keep you from this rather daunting task.

Your frustration with yourself is growing by the minute. You have to get this done by Monday, and you’re nowhere near finished. There’s hardly a conceivable thought typed on your word document and you don’t see yourself being able to form one anytime soon.

The ever burdening worry is all the more present after your talk with your mom. The way she acted when you asked your question, how her entire demeanor changed to one that made her unrecognizable to you…The questions are persistent, their relevance feeling more palpable than before.

As you start typing out your second paragraph, you’ve suddenly come to a realization that keeps you from continuing…

If she’s hiding that she did call for the ambulance, she would’ve had to use her cell phone. That call would still show up in her log, and although you don’t believe in invading someone's personal space, you just need to know. Odds are, she’s right. She didn’t call, and you’ll probably find absolutely nothing in her phone to indicate that she did. But at least you’ll know. And you can check it off your list of possibilities. You’ll be able to confirm that she wasn’t lying to you. (Because she wouldn’t do that…right?)

You’ve decided that checking her phone is the only way you’ll be able to put this whole thing to rest. Is it the right thing to do? Absolutely not. But you can’t focus until you know. 

Her door is always left open just in case something happens, you can hear her easier. So, with a light step, you walk inside her mostly dark room. Her television is quietly playing some old Western film you know you’ve seen a dozen times, but you can’t decipher which one it is. Some desert battle with horses and weapons flashes on the screen, the light illuminating the room in eerie beams. 

She’s fast asleep. Her oxygen tank is a steady hum against the low volume of the film, her breathing heavy but not labored.

Her phone rests on the nightstand closest to the wall, plugged into the charging cord. As you lift and touch the screen, you’re reminded of the fact that she keeps a six digit code to keep it locked. A code that you don’t know.

Although, you’ve got a hunch. With shaky thumbs, you type out the month, day and year of your birthday.

It worked. You’re in. 

Your eyes quickly shift to her sleeping form to be sure that she is still asleep. She’s situated on her back, her head rolled over on the pillow facing you. Her eyes aren’t open, and she’s not moved since you’ve been in here. You make haste in locating her call log and scrolling all the way to the date she landed herself in the emergency room. 

…and she was right. 

There are no 911 calls anywhere on her log. Not even a call made to the hospital…nothing. But as you take a closer look, there is something amiss. 

It was just after 1:30 in the morning when you and Jake arrived at your apartment to the chaotic scene. There’s an outgoing call that was made at 1:16…just minutes before the ambulance must have arrived. She was completely unresponsive when they found her, so how did she…? And why didn’t she call you?

The contact name is only adding to your questions. It’s a name you can’t place, and it’s an odd one.

Dodger.

Who the fuck is Dodger?

You don’t know a single person with that name…not that you can think of right away, at least. 

Whoever this Dodger is, might be the person responsible for the ambulance call. If not them, then who else? And the fact that she was on the phone with them right before…

Finding out the area code might give you some clue as to who this is. If nothing else, you’ll at least have an idea of where they live. After tapping the information icon to the right, you’re shocked when you see the three digits that tell you this is an Oklahoma number. 

There’s no one back home that she’s kept in touch with since the move. At least, not that you know of. She didn’t have many friends. None, actually. She spent all of her either time at home or, when your dad left, with you. Your mind is empty at trying to conjure up a single person she’d need to call from back home. You stare at the screen for a moment, trying your best to make sense of what you see before you. But you just can’t.

You need to call this number. But not with her phone, so you text yourself the contact information and delete the text from her phone so she won’t know. 

And as you’re in her text messages, you decide to see if she and Dodger ever text each other. But, there’s nothing. You’re quite literally the only person she texts, making this whole thing all the more strange. 

You place her phone back on the nightstand, checking on her once more before you quietly walk away. But before you do, something catches your eye. Her glass of water. It’s empty. You may as well fill it for her so she has it in case she wakes up thirsty. As you pick it up, something else catches your eye. Something far more alarming than an empty glass. 

You see the pills you gave her earlier, the ones you saw her swallow down. Or, at least you thought she did. But she didn’t. The three pills you gave her are sitting behind the glass, hidden from plain out of plain view. Had you not moved the glass, you wouldn’t have seen them. 

Suddenly, you’re remembering how the doctor was convinced that she hadn’t been taking them, asking you suspiciously if she had been. 

And you told him yes. Of course she’d been taking them, why wouldn’t she? 

You give them to her every night. You watch her take them every night. But if you thought she took them tonight when she actually didn’t, does that mean…that she never takes them? 

You can't bring yourself to believe that. You don’t even want to believe it. There’s an explanation. Has to be. 

She wouldn’t do that to herself, to you as her number one caregiver. She’s told you time and time again that she wants you to live your life for you, not for her. She’s said that she hates relying on you, but loves that she can. 

No, she wouldn’t do that. She would know to take her medications, because they make her better. And she wants to get better. For her and for you, like she’s said since she got sick in the first place. 

But it doesn’t explain…

…she really hasn’t been taking her pills.

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The cold, wet hair hitting your back makes you shiver before you wrap it up in a towel, taking the matching one to wrap up your soaking wet body. You decided to take an ‘everything’ shower before filming tonight, completing all of your deep conditions and skin scrubs. This is the most refreshed you’ve felt in weeks.

Tonight will be your last intimate scene with Sam, black lace dress included. And also your first with Jake. This will be the first time you’ll share the screen with him as your fictional ‘husband and wife’ characters. But there will be no loving sentiment between them on the screen. 

No. Tonight, Arthur will catch Guinevere in the middle of the act with her beloved Lancelot, his closest companion and best comrade. It’s going to be one of the most intense scenes within the entire project. 

According to what Josh has written in the script, Arthur will walk in on Guinevere and Lancelot making love, thus beginning the downfall of his reign due to his all consuming desires to get rid of Lancelot. 

Something else Josh wrote into the script is that Arthur and Lancelot have quite the heated argument over who is more deserving of their precious Guin. All the while, she is laid out on Lancelot's bed, clad in her most scandalous attire in front of both men whose need for her will end their relationship in one of the worst ways imaginable. Arthur will take one look at his wife, her body nearly on full display before them both, the most intimate gift that she’s offered his once closest confidant. He will then immediately order the death of Sir Lancelot for treason as he has committed one of the most heinous crimes against the king. 

Lancelot won’t argue, as he believes his time with Guinevere, however short, is enough to sustain him, even in death. She was worth it, she is worth it. And he will force Arthur to look upon her and realize the treasure in her that he has taken for granted. He will beg the king to at last show her the love she deserves once he is gone and no longer can. 

Suffice to say, tonight's scene is a big one. It serves as a catalyst for a lot of significant plot points. And you’re hoping that everything you’ve learned about acting thus far will suffice for the heaviness expected from you and your fellow actors. The hard part about this scene for you is the lack of dialogue. Once Arthur becomes privy to the affair between the two, Guinevere stays silent for the most part save for a few lines. Meaning you’ll be relying heavily on your body to convey her every emotion and thought, which you’ve found to be far more challenging than speaking a few lines with a manipulated voice.

Manipulating your body without a single word is a different thing altogether. To be able to convey emotions without speaking is something you’re not the most confident in, on and off  the screen.

But something happens to you once you put your costume on. You become someone else, someone you’ve always wished you could be. And with Jake being present, you’re sure you’ll have a little added inspiration. But that means you’ll be trying a little harder to look nice for tonight's filming session. Hence the ‘everything’ shower that felt like it took literal ages to complete, but felt so incredibly wonderful. (And also felt rather necessary.)

With your body now only a little damp, you remove your towel to start lathering yourself up in your favorite body lotion, fragrant with notes of wild lavender and chamomile, then taking your frenshe body oil in vanilla cashmere and massaging it all over your skin, focusing a little more on your neck and chest, even adding a little to inner thighs. These scents make for the perfect, seductive aroma, and your skin feels so soft, so alluring. Perfect for tonight.

Normally, you’d shy away from looking at yourself in the mirror, especially your nude form. Yet here you are, scrutinizing your reflection, noting each and every tiny thing that you wish you could alter. The years that you’ve spent hiding…years. 

It’s hard to look at your body when it’s not covered by the sweaters that are two sizes too big. You’re forced to accept your body, to accept the things you hate that you’ve felt the need to cover with a security blanket ever since you were a child. 

You stand to the side to see just how much your tummy is pooched from the apple cinnamon oatmeal you ate this morning. It could all be in your head, but you’re almost sure you can see the bloat from your tiny meal. You turn around completely, looking back for the crinkles of cellulite that you know are present in your ass. 

They’re there. Just as you suspected. You’re sure no model. No perfect ‘beauty queen’... 

…no Stacy. 

Fuck. How could anyone find you attractive when you’re so mortified by your own reflection? 

The voice in your head is loud and overpowering. It’s screaming louder than the voice that talked to you through recovery. 

You’re in such a strange place.

While your confidence in yourself has arguably never been higher, the urge to relapse has grown right along with it. Maybe it’s because you’ve suddenly found a version of yourself that you can appreciate. A version of yourself that you’ve always longed for. But she can’t be found in your real life. 

No. She only makes her appearance when you’re pretending to be someone else. She isn’t you.

She lives within you, but she isn’t you. 

You grab the towel and quickly cover yourself back up with it, not wanting to spiral even deeper into your insecurities when you’re supposed to be playing a confident, beautiful queen in a few hours. 

You’ll be fine once you put the dress on, you tell yourself. Please, please don’t do this. Not right now. 

You know shoving down the thoughts, ignoring them with a temporary fix, isn’t the answer. But you can’t deal with it right now. You don’t have time. You don’t have the mental space for it. 

You’ll deal with it later. It can wait. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Josh’s room is the set tonight, and it looks incredible. The bed is adorned with a white satin duvet, with red and white rose petals scattered all over. This is your throne for the night, where you’ll be lying for the entire duration of the scene. 

Josh’s walls are painted white, but he and Malachi have worked pure magic with the lighting that has given them a dark red hue. You thought they had actually painted them when you walked in, but Josh showed you the lights, the “wonders of cinematic sorcery,” as he called it. It looks like a brand new room, it looks so good. 

Jake was right when he told you his brother is one hell of a director. Everything he does feels professional. You just know you’ll see Josh’s name alongside the likes of Tarantino and Scorsese someday. His talent and eye for putting together the best scenes will get him far. And Malachi will be right alongside him, designing the perfect costumes for Josh’s films. A dynamic duo, those two. 

But if you’re honest with yourself, the beauty and eroticism of the set has you even more nervous for this scene. You just hope that you can do this set justice and not fuck it all up. It deserves some of the best acting you can offer Josh. You don’t want to let him down with your insecurities that have been weighing so heavily all day. 

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“I still can’t believe it,” Nat says as you’ve just finished applying the final layer of Ben Nye to your secret ink. (You still can’t get over the fact that Sam now knows about it. Not what you wanted, but there’s nothing you can do now. It’s done. It just feels strange that something so personal is now not as personal as you intended for it to be.)

As you dab a little finishing powder over the foundation, you turn your head over your shoulder to Natalia, who’s sitting crisscrossed in the center of Jake’s bed. “Believe what?” you ask her, snorting a chuckle. 

“Your sexy little tattoo, that’s what.” Her beautiful face wears that contagious smile of hers, her right eye throwing you a sly wink. “I would’ve never suspected it when I met you. You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?” 

You have no idea. 

“Guess you could say that.” You huff a giggle while you secure all of Josh’s makeup back in his bag. Still to this day, he’s yet to ask you what it’s for. Odds are, he thinks you just need a little extra coverage for your face. It doesn’t seem he suspects a thing. (You’re just hoping Sam keeps his mouth shut about this unrevealed aspect of yourself.) 

“Do you think you’ll ever get anymore?” She questions as she’s handing you your gown. 

“Thank you, babe,” you tell her, taking the garment bag from her. “And I don’t know, I’ve not really put too much thought into it.” She helps you secure the hook and eye in the back of the dress, holding your hair over your shoulder so it’s not in her way. “I was pretty drunk when I got this one. But I do love it. So, maybe. It makes me feel mysterious, you know?” 

With the dress fastened, you stand in front of the mirror and adjust a few things. The thing you’re always the most concerned about with this costume is the chest area, naturally. If you situate the lace just right over your breasts, there’s not quite a full view of your intimate area. But there’s still enough to add a little sensuality to it. 

“Damn, y/n.” Nat says, her eyes trailing your chest as you get yourself adjusted just the way you like. 

“What?” You say through a giggle. 

“Oh, nothing,” she says. You can see her devious grin in her reflection of the mirror in front of you as she’s pulling your hair off your shoulder, smoothing out the kinks. “Just that Danny’s lucky he snatched me up when did.” Her golden eyes lock with your reflection as she winks and chuckles. “You’re just too gorgeous, girl.” 

You playfully roll your eyes as you both break out in a fit of giggles. (You wish everyone saw you that way. Jake, mostly.) With a final onceover of your liquid lipstick, blotting your lips and cleaning up the edges, you feel you’re about as ready as you can be for tonight's scene. 

“Well, he better watch his back,” you say, opening Jake’s door and walking through the threshold, Nat following close behind. “I could still steal you away.” More laughter sounds from you two as you head down the hallway, walking past the living room and up the staircase to the loft.

Danny is waiting at the top of the stairs, and when Nat makes it up to him, his toned arms wrap her in a full hug. “What are you two laughing about?” He asks, planting a sweet kiss to her temple.

Neither one of you says a word as you throw a silent wink towards Nat, letting the laughter bubbling within you both burst through yet again. 

“What?” He insists. 

Without an explanation, the two of you lock arms and proceed to the film set, leaving him still asking what the commotion is all about, but letting him sit in his wonder while you walk away together.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“You ready for this?” Sam whispers to you, his face mere inches from yours. With you splayed out on your back, and he perched on his side right next to you, arm draped across your body, you’re positioned just the way Josh had in mind for the beginning of the shoot.

His smile, infectious and beautiful as always, warms your soul (and your body) and has you feeling very much at ease as you mentally prepare for this scene. You haven’t filmed with him in a while, and you’ve been so busy with the utter shitshow your life has been lately that you’ve just not been able to see him much. Feeling him this close to you again after all this time, you’d hate to admit just how nice it feels. 

It feels really fucking nice. You hadn’t realized how bad you missed it, how bad you missed him.

“I think so,” you mutter, smiling at him while he looks at you with heavy, lust filled eyes. “But, are you ready?”

He brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it lovingly behind your ear with a peculiar smirk across his lips. You can’t see Jake, but you can hear the prolonged sigh from his lips as he’s positioned just outside the bedroom door, awaiting his cue to barge in on the two of you. 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he confirms, sending off his words with a wink before he shifts his attention to your director.. “I think we’re good to go, Josh!”

Josh confirms with a nod of his head, gesturing a thumbs up to Malachi to dim the overhead lighting and giving Danny the “okay” to shine a little spotlight on the bed you’re on. 

“Scene 73, take one.” He doesn’t yet have a cue card, so with (a rather loud) clap of his hands, he yells, “ACTION!”

As soon as the scene begins, you’re fully encompassed by your alter, the ever sought after Queen Quiniverre. Every insecurity, every doubt, all but washes away once Josh says the word. You’re not you anymore; you feel as though everything you hate about yourself doesn’t exist within this realm. You’re not you, and Guinevere would never be insecure about the things that you are. 

And that’s exactly what inspires you to be the best Guinevere that you can be. You wish, more than anything, that you had her confidence. But even if you don’t have it, she does. And at least you can know what it’s like, even if the moments are short. 

Once Sam says his few words of dialogue, he leans in to envelop you in a passionate kiss full of burning desire. Bodies tangled, hands searching one another; a moment of pure ecstasy shared between two secret lovers, bound together by a love so deceitful to the King. 

And then, you hear him. He walks through the threshold with heavy feet, his breathing stern and labored. 

“I thought I knew better than to heed Mordred's vile words of my first in command. And yet, I find that I needn’t worry of his lies, only those of my beloved and her dearest, both of whom betray their King.” 

He unsheathes his sword, a motion to take Lancelot for himself. To battle to the death for their prize who lie in the bed before them. 

…his voice. 

It echoes throughout the entire room, the entire apartment. The anger he’s displaying is being pulled from somewhere deep within him, exhibiting itself through the King as he’s finally privy to his wife's infidelity. The volume nearly startles you from your position on the bed. You didn’t expect such vibrancy from him, such passion to be exuded through him. He’s speaking his dialogue perfectly, acting through it as though he’s done it a hundred times over. He’s still using his accent, but it’s believable this time. It’s coming through much more powerful than the last time you heard it. 

“My once most trusted comrade, you must die at my hands for treason. The highest crime against your king, to lay with his precious Guinevere, deserves no less than a death of the highest order.” 

His accent, where it was once convincing and accurate, has now begun to falter under the pressure of the scene. He’s beginning to sound less like the betrayed king, and more like an pissed off Jake.  

He continues to hold his sword out firm, glaring at Lancelot with a fiery anger from the depths of his soul, until he shifts them to you. The same anger geared towards you, only it doesn’t feel as though it’s Arthur looking at Guinevere, it’s more like Jake looking at you. And the extent of it is making you more uncomfortable as the seconds (that feel more like hours) are passing without a word from either of them. 

It’s supposed to be Sam’s turn to speak, but it’s likely that he’s caught on to the tension pouring from Jake, and the tensions that lie in the space between you and him. 

“Sam!” Jake screams, causing you to jolt from the sheer volume. “Say your fucking line so we can get this over with and I can get the fuck away from all of you!”

“Woah, woah,” Josh interjects, motioning for Malachi to turn the lights back on as he cuts the camera. “What the fuck, Jake? What’s your problem?”

Jake tosses his sword to the floor, taking off his cloak and throwing it towards Josh who hardly has enough warning to catch it. “This, Josh. This is my fucking problem!” Jake fumes, gesturing his flexed arms towards you and Sam as you’re both struck silent by his sudden outburst. “I can’t perform with this, I won’t.” 

You look to Sam as he blinks a few times, as if suddenly being pulled out of his state of utter shock at his brother's actions. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sam challenges, getting up from his position and leaving you there by yourself. 

Danny grabs Nat’s arm to take her out of the room, and she’s waving for you to join her. But you don’t want to leave, not yet. You don’t normally stick around for a full blown, Kiszka fight. But you have to hear what Jake is going to say for yourself. 

“It means, Sam, that I can’t stand working with you,” he looks to you, still on the bed but now in an upright position as you watch the scene unfold before you. “Or her.” 

What the fuck–?

Josh is pleading with him to calm down, but he won’t have it. He brushes him off when his twin offers a comforting hand to his arm. 

“Fuck this goddamn film and fuck every single one of you that has anything to do with it! It’s fucking bullshit. I’m sorry, Josh. I’m fucking done.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You can’t take it any longer. You storm out after him, heedless of everyone else, ignoring their presence and pushing your way through to reach him. 

He slams his door but you waste no time in opening it immediately after, refusing to let him shut you or anyone else out after such a blow-up.

There’s not much light in his room, save for the lamp in the corner shining a warm hue on the space. The calming aura of his room means nothing in comparison to the tensions between you two— the ever growing tensions that now feel sharper than any blade.

He stands facing his bed, his back turned to you. As soon as you enter the room and shut the door behind you, he quickly turns on his heel to face you. And he does not look pleased, his features etched with irritation. But you continue to stand your ground, not willing to budge anytime soon.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He growls, deep enough for your bones to feel it. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat accumulated between his knitted brows. That familiar flare of his nostrils makes an appearance and his lips are pursed in a tight scowl.

Normally, you’d cower down to anyone who’d find it in themselves to speak to you this way. You’d hide yourself, hide your feelings, stay quiet and out of the way. Give into them to keep the peace. But right now, fuck keeping the goddamn peace. You’ve kept it for far too long at this point and you’re done allowing yourself to be invisible any longer.

“My clothes are in here and I need to change since you selfishly decided that filming is over for the night,” you simper back, your volume challenging his. “And I’m also here to figure out what the fuck your problem with me is!”

His furious stare is penetrating your very soul, his eyes the darkest you’ve yet to see them. His fists are clenched and his biceps are bulging so much you’re just waiting for the chainmail sleeves to give way. 

But you’ve never seen him look better. 

“Problem?” He begins closing the short distance between you, practically stomping across the carpeted floor, flailing his arms about as he speaks. “What the fuck are you talking about?” The heat behind his tone grows stronger and stronger, his gaze on you darkening by the second. 

You refuse to break eye contact while you snicker and shake your head at him playing stupid with you. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he’s clearly choosing to play dumb with you, acting like he hasn’t put you on a fucking roller coaster with him since the day he was shoved into your already messy life. If he wants to keep playing games with you, then you have no problem playing your own against him. 

You’re still in your revealing attire, your breasts nearly on full display, the entirety of your form leaving next to nothing to the imagination— to Jake's imagination. You’re privy to his numerous glances at your breasts. You won’t pretend you’re not, and you can’t hold back the satisfied, devious curl of your lips each time you catch his gaze. You should find the urge to cover up, to hide yourself or wait until you can change to confront him.

But that’s not what you intend to do. Wearing this dress brings out a part of you that you’ve come to cherish— it cloaks you in a confident aura that you’ve lacked all your life. And as much as he tries to pretend it means nothing to him, you know the effect this dress has on him. You’ve seen it firsthand for yourself. He can try to hide it all he wants, but you and him both know what it did to him the first time he saw you wearing it in this very room. You may as well use that to your advantage right now. 

You feel powerful, in control. Those doubtful thoughts you were having earlier tonight about yourself have lowered their volume nearly to a full mute. If he can’t handle talking to you like this, then he can’t handle you.

“You’re fine with me one minute,” you huff a snarky giggle, standing firm and refusing to bring your arms up to cover yourself, even with his continuous gazing.“Then you act like you can’t stand my very existence the next. I’m just fucking confused, Jake. If you hate me so goddamn much, why don’t you ask me to leave? You don’t need me to do this fucking film. Why don’t you find some other unsuspecting girl and rid yourself of me once and for all?”

With as much of yourself as you’ve invested in this film, and the new found sense of self-assurance being in front of Josh’s camera has given you, you don’t want to quit this project. If walking away was truly what you wanted, you would have done so a long time ago. And deep down, you want to believe that if Jake truly wanted you to leave, he would’ve demanded it already. But right now, all you can think about is that conversation you overheard weeks ago. 

“I only asked her because I had to…I was not about to work on something alone with her.” 

It’s something you’ve not let yourself forget. Even after everything he’s done for you— helping you with your mom, staying the night with you when it felt like your world was crumbling— none of it seems to matter because of  his words that linger in your mind like a never ending echo. He wouldn’t have said them if he didn’t feel them. That much, you’re certain of.

And after what he said to you in class…it was a harsh reality that you weren’t ready to face. He validated your deepest fears of not belonging, of not being accepted. Every hurtful thing he’s ever said about you, each cutting remark he’s said to you are repeating relentlessly in your head. 

“I don’t hate you, y/n!” He shouts through gritted teeth. He takes a few steps towards you, leaving only inches of space between your bodies. His eyes are still fixed in their vexed glare, yet there’s something different behind their darkened gaze. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then…” Your voice is shaky as you try to raise it. You have to look up at him to see his face, he is so close to you. Your trembling body begins fighting against your accusatory words. “Then why did you say you only asked me because you had to? That you didn’t want to work on something alone with me?” Of everything he’s ever done to you, those words hurt the most.

“Because I can’t…” He throws his arms up in frustration, shaking his head as he looks away from you. “...I can’t trust myself to be alone with you. And I can’t fucking stand it when—” He stops himself before he can continue, his index and thumb tightly gripping his chin, almost and if to physically stop himself. 

“You can’t stand what, Jake?” Your anger surges, overpowering everything else. Your vision blurs and your limbs are tingling with pure rage. “What the fuck do I do that you can’t stand so badly?” 

He snaps his head towards you, his loose waves, making a luscious display around his handsome face. “I can’t stand seeing you with him.” He points to the photo on his dresser, the one of him and his brothers. The one with Sam. “You think it’s fucking easy for me to see you with him like that? Especially knowing what happened between you two the night we all went to the stupid fucking haunted house.” 

Now you’re pissed. Not only is his reasoning ridiculous, he’s also accusing you of something that didn’t happen. This isn’t your fault. None of this is. And for him to treat you like shit because of that?

“You don’t know shit, Jake!” Your voice rises to a near scream, letting go of any pretense of holding back. “Nothing happened that night, and even if it had, why the hell do you care? What makes you think you have any right to be pissed about anything that I do? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you; this is your fault! So your reasoning is, frankly, complete bullshit. And I’m not buying any of it.” You’re yelling so loudly your voice is cracking and breaking, your words reverberating with raw, pissed off emotion. No one has ever provoked you to this level of anger. No one except your dad, when he decided out of the fucking blue to leave you. You hate that he’s brought out this side of you. “You act like that because you can’t stand the very thought of me,” you continue. “Just tell me you want nothing more to do with me and I’ll walk right out that door. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He stands still for a while, silently staring at the floor. He brings his hand up to rub his chin, something you’ve seen him do a hundred times, when his mind is racing about something. Josh almost always points it out. He does it a lot during filming, during your scenes with Sam. Especially during the ones when you’re wearing the very outfit you’re standing before him in right now. 

Then, he takes two more steps, until he’s close enough to you that you can feel his heaving breaths against your already heated skin. His demeanor has changed. He doesn’t seem angry anymore. The way he’s looking down at you…he now seems desperate. 

“I can’t stand the way he looks at you…the way you look at him,” he whispers, his eyes traveling the curve of your breasts as his lungs deflate letting out a deep sigh. His eyelids have become heavy over his whiskey colored eyes that flick back to yours. “I can’t stand it…because I wish it were me.” His voice, once harsh and furious, is now a deep, hushed whisper. It’s low, gravelly in pitch. 

It’s fucking sexy. But you’re still not convinced. You need more. You’re sick of thinking he likes you for a split second, then pulling himself away when he feels you’re getting too close. 

No. Not this time. If he pulls away again, you’re done. Out the door. Gone from his life and free to live yours without him and this film. You’ll take a failing grade if it means you don’t have to go through this anymore.

“I don’t believe you, Jake.” Your words are stern, but your body language begins deceiving your cold statement. You’re trembling, vibrating through to your very core. No matter how pissed you are, you can’t fight this incessant attraction you’ve felt for him for a long time now. You fought fiercely in the beginning, had completely convinced yourself that he was nothing more than a handsome jerk who harbored feelings of distaste towards you. 

But fuck. That made you want him more. His mystery, his demeanor. The kindness that seeped through every now and again. Nat was right; you’d always known it was there. His genuine heart is sometimes too strong to stay masked behind this rough act he's tried to uphold. It's broken before you enough times to know that it’s there. And maybe it’s because of you that it's breaking more and more. His guard is falling. That’s why you’re so fucking pissed that he’s fighting every second to keep it up. And what you just said…it's not that you don’t believe him. A big part of you does. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he was completely dumbfounded the first time he saw you in this lace dress. The way he seethes when you’re with Sam. On camera or not. 

But right now, you need to fucking see it. To see that side of him that you know is buried within. It’s not enough to simply hear his words; you need him to prove it to you. You’re tired of the back and forth with him. This is his opportunity to show you what ever the fuck it is that he wants from you.

There’s a look of confliction as his hand reaches out to you tentatively, his fingers playing with the lace on your shoulder. They move, hovering just inches over your collar bone before his fingertips delicately skate over the skin with such a gentle, intentional touch. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding as you feel the warmth of his touch.

“I’ve wanted to touch you…” His fingers follow the curve of your neck, passing over your pulse point, tracing a path along the curve of your jawline. “...just like this since the day I fucking laid eyes on you. And seeing my brother get to do it…” Your bottom lip is lightly tugged by the pad of his thumb, smearing the dark lipstick. “...it eats me up inside, y/n. I don’t think I can watch him kiss these lips one more time.” His focus is now entirely fixed on your lips, as his tongue gracefully glides over his own. Your craving for him intensifies with every passing moment. Each second fuels the fiery need within you.

“Then…why don’t you just do it?” The words fall straight from your mouth before you can even think twice about saying them, hanging in the air that’s slowly shifting from an angry tension to a much different kind. Your eyes lock yet again, each of you silently pleading with the other to bridge this divide between you once and for all.

With one hand still caressing your face and finding the small of your back, he pulls you flush against him, holding you tight against his warm body. He leans in, his lips brushing over yours, a feather-light caress that steals your breath. 

And as if you’re pulled together by an invisible tether, your lips finally meet. 

It starts slow, almost hesitant. But the intensity begins growing as your emotions are spilling over, fueling the kiss with a passion that is closer to desperation. His hand finds your hair, tangling your soft locks as he pulls you even closer, deepening your embrace with a hunger born of a longing that’s finally being set free.

You can feel his walls crumbling before you, letting break through his barrier. The insurmountable distance that was created between you, not only physically but emotionally, has at last been closed. 

His tongue glides across your teeth, drawing your bottom lip firmly between his. He serenades your mouth with the most beautiful melody, eliciting a yearning that forces your thighs to come together in an attempt to soothe the desire pulsing between them.

He tastes like the sweetest honey infused bourbon. His lips are soft, putting the most sumptuous velvet to shame. 

The hand resting on your back glides upward along your torso, stopping just before he reaches your heaving breast. His lips break from yours before he tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck, fully exposing the expanse to him. 

“Jake…” You start, but he’s already so attuned to your desires that you don’t have to say another word before his mouth meets your taut skin. His tongue traces along your neck, stopping to suckle the skin. A strained moan sounds from deep within you, eliciting a sensual snicker, reveling in the response he’s drawing from you.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles against you, sealing his compliment with a kiss. As if you’re not falling apart enough, you nearly melt into him when his hand finally caresses over your full breast. “This okay? Can I touch you here?” He whispers softly in the shell of your ear, his words both a question and a promise of his respect for you.

“Please, Jake, more” you whimper through heaving breaths. 

He groans deeply against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he teases your hardened nipple through the flimsy lace. You practically cry out for him, your body squirming with anticipation, begging him for more. He shushes you gently. “I’ve only just begun,” he whispers, his index finger tracing slow circles over your sensitive bud. “Let me take my time with you.”

He pinches your nipple, playful smirk gracing his lips as he chases the sounds escaping your parted mouth. 

You clutch his biceps tight, anchoring him to you to keep him from slipping away. He hisses as your nails dig into his skin, only igniting his desire for you.

“Do you believe me yet?” He whispers, his lips grazing your jawline.

While there’s not an ounce of lingering suspicion within you, you dare to toy with him a little further.

“Nuh uh, not yet.” You respond quietly, your body betraying you as your desire is displayed physically. He can sense it, and the mischievous grin curved on his lips assures you he’s privy to your little game.

“Feel how much I want you.” And with that, his hand takes yours, guiding it to his pulsing cock that’s straining against his black pants, imploring you to feel the undeniable need he has for you.

He throbs beneath your touch as you palm him through the satin fabric that still conceals him, keeping in time with your own racing heart. His breath hitches, he whimpers beautifully in your ear as you continue to feel him, and if it were even possible, he’s becoming even harder against your touch, desperate to remove the confines of his pants.

“Holy fuck, Jake…” 

Your legs press together once more at the feeling of him, his sheer size and thickness that is obvious even through the barrier between you. All you can think about is how he’d feel nestled away deep inside of you, filling you with every inch. He’s massive, that much you can tell, even through the barrier.

“Yeah?” He hums through heavy breaths. “That’s all for you, love.”

His words have your arousal nearly dripping down your thighs, your body growing more impatient by the second.

“Lay down for me,” he mutters in your ear. “Just like you were for the scene. Only this time, for me.” 

His words, almost possessive in their wake, leave you speechless and craving him even more. He lightly motions you in the direction of his bed, keeping his eyes locked with yours. 

Once you lie down, just as you did just moments ago, he positions himself at the end of the bed while he looks at you, taking in the vision before him. 

Normally, you wouldn’t have half the confidence for a moment such as this, and it’s for that very reason you’re glad  you’re in this very dress. It’s been the source of most confident moments as of late; it only makes sense that you’re wearing it in real life with Jake. 

As he begins to remove his chainmail top, you tremble at seeing him so bare. You’d seen it before, but not like this. This time, he’s taking it off for you, removing yet another barrier that exists between the two of you. 

You’re breathless at the sight of him. His pecs, sculpted and chiseled, rising and falling with his deep breaths. The smooth expanse of his unflawed skin, begging to be touched and explored. And his broad, sturdy shoulders that beckon you to sink your nails into, to keep a tight grip against while he’s on top of you. 

“Look at you,” he mutters, his eyes tracing every curve  of your body as he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you as though he’s not done looking at you just yet. “You’re a fucking queen,” he whispers, his voice husky and filled with desire. Finally, he leans in, his lips meeting yours with a tender gentleness, leaving you yearning for more as he lifts away again just slightly. “A beautiful queen.” 

He kisses you once again, this time hungrier than the last. His hands roam your body with a newfound intensity, each touch igniting a fire within you that leaves your body arching towards him, begging for more. More of him.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of kisses along your skin as his body slowly lowers down yours. You suck in a deep gasp as his warm, wet tongue follows a slow trail from your belly button, gliding all the way up to your chest, tracing along the curve of your breast. 

His lips suck a mark right where his tongue stops, leaving a bruise right where the fabric ends along your chest.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against the bruise his lips left on your taut skin, marveling at his work. “All marked up from me. Want to mark you up everywhere…”

His focus seems deliberate, as if he’s determined to leave his mark where it will be most visible during your scenes, his attention fixed solely on the skin peeking out amidst the black lace. 

“This…will be hard to cover up for filming, Jake…” you utter, breathless from your purely aroused state. 

“No,” he whispers between leaving his mark right in the middle of your breasts. “Don’t cover them. Let them see.”

Before you can continue your weak protest, he carefully pushes back the lace over your left breast, fully unveiling it before him. He shushes you as his lips instantly attach to your perked nipple, sucking it deep within his mouth, softly nibbling at it all while his hand removes the lace from your right breast, kneading the flesh between his fingers.

But as he does so, you feel your body begin to tense when you discover his fingers are all over the area covered with makeup. The area with your tattoo. It feels too fucking good to make him stop, but that same feeling that overcame you when Sam unsuspectingly saw it is blazing within you. 

Once you shift your eyes to his hand, you notice the makeup smeared almost completely, the red ink bleeding through to present itself, even if you aren’t ready for it to.

“Jake I…” 

But it’s too late. As he lifts to switch his attention to your right breast, he sees it. His eyes are fixed on your etched secret, mouth lazily agape at this small piece of you he’s discovering for the first time. 

“H…holy fuck,” he stammers, leaning in to peck his lips against the word along the tender spot. “This is so sexy I just…” he brings up his finger, tracing the “R”, then the “E”, the “D”

“Do you like it?” you ask him, feeling a rush of confidence wash over you.

Your initial hesitation has all but vanished. It's so different with Jake…something about the way he makes you feel, the way he brings out this part of you that no one else does. Not even Sam.

“I love this, y/n,” his lips meet the ink once more, decorating it with wet kisses. 

“I…I’ve always been so scared for people to see…” Your words would hardly be legible if he wasn’t so close to you. Your mumbled tone is evidence of how he’s affecting you, what he’s doing to you. “... and it’s not exactly accurate for the film,” you mutter through a weak chuckle.  

“Does anyone else know?” he quietly implores. “Does Sam know?” 

“No.” 

The word flies out of you before you can even take a second to think about it. It’s a lie. Sam does know. But that doesn’t matter to you right now. And Jake doesn’t need to know of what you almost did with his brother in a shitty attempt to get to him. 

“Only Natalia knows.”

“Good,” he mumbles between leaving more kisses along your breast, slowly creeping closer towards your erect nipple.“Let’s keep it that way.”

His tongue lightly flicks the sensitive bud, drawing languid circles around it while his fingers follow the same motion of the other breast.

With the way his body is positioned between your legs, you can’t close your thighs together to ease the ache between them. It doesn’t stop you from trying, though, and when he notices, he grins against your supple flesh, looking up at you to see your completely fucked out state. He understands what you need without a word, and he begins to shift his body even further down your own, keeping your legs spread and his mouth trailing down your flesh, until his face is nearly level with your throbbing core. 

The slit in your dress proves to be quite convenient at the moment, enabling your legs to spread easily while the only coverage you have is from the thong that perfectly matches your skin tone.

As his lips brush against your inner thigh, his warm breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, you find yourself instinctively arching your hips closer to him, craving whatever pleasure he can offer.

“You smell so fucking good, love,” he mutters. 

You’re silently praising yourself for thinking to add your body oil to your thighs, not realizing you were doing it for Jake. 

He’s not done marking you up just yet, as he sucks long and deep on the flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a high pitched moan from deep within your being, your hand quickly flying up to stifle your sounds. 

“This one is just for me,” he mumbles against the bruise, tracing it delicately with the tip of  his finger. “And only for me.”

“Jake, please…I need more,” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as he stares deeply into your heavy, longing eyes. 

“What do you need, beautiful?” He probes, peppering your thigh with gentle kisses, following a slow path towards where you crave his lips the most.

“Jake…”  

“Tell me what you need,” he says in a hushed voice, his lips trailing a delicate kiss just above your throbbing clit. “Just tell me and I’ll do everything in my power. It’s the least I can do for you…please, let me make everything up to you.”

“Jake I don’t care anymore I just—” you reach down to brush a loose strand out of his face, fingers grazing over his sharp jawline as he leans in, leaving a sweet kiss in the middle of your palm. “I just need you.”

A devious, sinful smirk graces lips as his attention diverts to your aching heat. 

With his index finger, he traces the wetness you’ve left on the fabric of your panties, drawing slow and lazy circles over your clothed clit. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks, his blown pupils dark with need as his question almost sounds as though he’s begging. “Want to see you, all pretty and wet for me.” 

“It’s all for you, Jake.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. His hands, strong and firm, reach up to your hips, tugging at the sides of your thong as you lift yourself to help him pull it down your thighs. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He helps you lift your right leg out, then your left leg, placing your panties on the edge of the bed once they’re finally off of you. 

Out of everyone you’ve ever been with, no one has ever taken this much time with you. Not once has anyone asked what you need, what you want. It's a side of Jake you never expected to see. In a thousand years, you wouldn't have imagined him being this attentive, this caring toward you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hums, his eyes longing fixed on your dripping core. “Every single part of you, just perfect.”

You instinctively jolt once his lips attach to your already sensitive clit, sucking it gently, his warm tongue swirling around it. With a tender touch, he holds your hips down in place, keeping you still for him as he explores you.

“Jake, oh my god, plea–”

He cuts off your words with a long glide of his tongue from you leaking entrance to your aching clit, sealing with a deep kiss to your throbbing bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

With his middle finger, he prods your entrance before slowly pushing it all the way in, finally filling you as you clench hard around his long digit. His grip on your hips does little to restrain you; you find yourself grinding against him, yearning for more of his touch. His tongue dances over your clit while his finger delves deeper into you, setting an delicious rhythm that has you craving more.

Then, he adds a second finger, filling and stretching you around him even more. His thrusts quicken, driving you closer to the edge with each brush of his fingers inside of you. 

Your hands instinctively find his soft locks, fingers entwining in the strands and tugging. A low moan escapes him, sending vibrations against your core.

“Just like that, Jake, just like tha–” 

But just as you're nearing your peak, there’s a sudden knock at the door that causes Jake’s fingers to still their movement, keeping them inside of you as he lifts his face that’s now glistening from your dripping arousal. 

“Jake? Are you and y/n okay?” It’s Josh. He sounds concerned, distressed. It’s sweet, although his timing is…awful. “You’ve been in there for a while…we’re just worried about you guys.”

Shit.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: oof. that was a lot. thank you for sticking with me, lol.

who do we think the mysterious Dodger could be?

i'd love to hear your thoughts! don't be afraid to reach out; hearing from you all keeps me going.

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you)

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27

[asirensrage]

The Lesser of Two Evils

Title: The Lesser of Two Evils Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Haitani Ran x OC x Haitani Rindou, Haitani Ran x Haitani Rindou Word count: 3k Warnings: Dark!fic. Incest. Dub-con. Mention of child abuse/abusive father. Murder. Violence. PTSD. Coercion. Jealousy. Unhealthy relationships. Unbeta’d. *warnings are not exhaustive* Summary: There is a third Haitani. She loves her brothers. They love her more. Written for Fright Night: Forbidden Fruits collab for @enchantedforest-network "The theme of this Collab is Taboo topics. Murder, stepcest, incest, noncon - bring your most rotten fruits to the table."

Notes: I think this is the darkest thing I've ever written. It turned out a lot darker than I intended, so much so that I needed to edit things out because part of it was too dark for the event lol. I tried to fix it so it fit, alluding to things but never straight up saying what happened. It was a result of thinking what would drive the oc into accepting this. I hope I did it right. Apologies to anyone who reads this lol. I have so many regrets but I also enjoyed the challenge.

In case it needs to be said, I don't condone anything that happens in this fic. It's fiction.

HEED THE WARNINGS. seriously. read them.

There is a third Haitani. 

A younger sister born from a last chance to rekindle a marriage that never should have existed in the first place. Her brothers were old enough to want to leave her behind, venturing into the world while Renka remained in the dilapidated apartment. It was a blessing when it was only her and her brothers. A miracle when she was alone. 

With a family like hers, it was easy to slip through the cracks, to fall silent and let her brothers claim the spotlight they always dreamed about, the ones they whispered to each other about in the dead of night when the three of them were curled into the one bed they had as children. Ran wanted to be famous. Rindou wanted to be strong and go into music. He wanted to own a club that everyone would line up for ages to go into like they saw when they were out at night. Renka…just wanted to be happy. And safe. She didn’t tell her brothers the last part. 

Whenever they were together, her brothers were glued to her side. They grinned at her, messed up her hair and teased her the way they teased each other. Rindou and Renka hid together when they’d accidentally wake up Ran, who was a demon no matter how old he was, when he woke up before he wanted. Ran promised her that he’d dress her in the fashions they’d see in the windows they passed. He swore that no one would look down at them, at her, the way he saw others do when they went out. 

The Haitanis were not well off. Not anymore. The broken marriage of their parents, the infidelity that became more and more apparent, left their home in shambles in more ways than one. Ran swore to himself that he’d make things better for his younger siblings. 

Ran and Rindou love their sister. When she was five, Rindou smashed a bottle over their father’s head. Ran used an umbrella to smash his face, leaving him struggling to breathe through his broken nose, before he threatened the man who helped give them life. “You ever look at her like that again, I’ll kill you.” 

They pulled Renka out of the apartment and kept her between them before they treated her to some ice cream they bought with money they stole. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Not you’re fault you’re so cute,” Ran teased. “Ever happens again, you tell us.” 

“Or at least scream,” Rindou adds. “Someone will help you.” 

Renka nods but inwardly she already knows she doesn’t want to cause more trouble. She doesn’t want her brothers who are trying to look after her to get hurt. They’re just kids. What can they do against adults? She feels ancient and young and too aware of what the world holds already. 

Their father leaves them alone for the most part. Their mother disappears, taking off to a new life as if she doesn’t abandon her own children. Renka is left with her two brothers who protect her, whispering promises to her that the life they deserve is waiting for them. 

🌂

When she’s nine, her brothers are arrested. She doesn’t get to see them. Not right away. She’s left alone in an empty apartment, confused as to why they haven’t returned. It takes two days before she finally gets the news…and their father comes home. 

She can’t stop him. Not from coming in or staying. Renka does her best to stay out of sight and out of mind, trying to find a way to get to the detention center to see her brothers. She needs to know what to do. She needs their reassurance that they’ll be released soon. Her home is not safe without them. 

Renka is nine years old when she runs away from home. 

🌂

She waits until the bruises fade before she finally manages to find a way to visit her brothers. One by one. Rindou comes first, takes one look at her and asks “What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing, everything is fine,” she lies. He looks like he doesn’t believe her, but he tells her where they hid some cash despite the risk of being recorded. He tells her that he worries about her by asking what she’s eating, how school is going and if there’s anyone whose ass they need to kick when they get out. Renka forces herself to smile and tells him that she misses him. They’ll be out in less than a year. She just has to wait for them. He leaves after pressing a kiss to his palm and his palm to the glass. She reaches back, pretending she can feel it. She issues being safe at night, tucked between them. She can’t sleep anymore. 

Ran arrives before her, smiling widely at her until he actually looks at her. He doesn’t need to say anything. He’s five years older than her and Renka has never been able to withstand the tension of his stare, the anticipation of him waiting for her eats at her insides until she finally blurts it out. “Ourfathercamehome.”

She half hopes he doesn’t hear her or thinks she said something else, but the way his face changes tells her he understands. She has never seen her brother look at her like that. The fury in his expression makes even the guards straighten. 

“What did he do?” 

Renka swallows and doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. Ran’s anger is palpable and she can’t stop the way she shrinks down in her seat. 

“Tell me you’re not staying there.”

“I–I’m not,” she says quickly. “I…I left.”

He doesn't ask where she’s staying. She has friends, but that’s tricky. She can’t be sent back. She can’t.

“Come back tomorrow. I’ll have a place for you then. Rindou tell you about the stash?” 

She ends up crying, making Ran do a complete 180 in his reactions as he coos at her, tells her she’s strong and he’s proud that she’s protecting herself. That he’ll take care of everything. That no one will ever touch her again. She needs to trust her nii-sans. 

Within two days, she’s introduced to someone named Kakucho. He’s tall, but quiet and kind. He’s only a couple of years older than her, but he shows her a space where she can stay with a lock on the door and teaches her more ways that she can block it to ensure no one else comes in. He gives her multiple escape routes and doesn’t ask questions. Even from inside their prison, her brothers found her protection. They continue to take care of her. 

🌂

When they’re released, when she’s finally reunited with her protectors, both of the brothers hug her. They bury their faces into their hair and she can’t help but cry, even though she doesn’t want to. She’s just relieved. 

“We’re so sorry,” they whisper to her. They’re sorry for getting caught, for leaving her alone, for not being there when she needed them. They promise never to leave her again. She doesn’t believe them, but she clings to them and wishes it’s true. 

🌂

Ran and Rindou stick to their word until they’re arrested for the events of the Kanto Incident. She’s fourteen this time and more self-sufficient. More importantly, despite their aim for success, her brothers have arranged for her safety. She knows now where they stored money that she can use to keep their apartment paid for. She’s safe because her brother’s reminded all of Roppongi why what is theirs stays theirs in any absence. Her father cannot come back from the dead. 

By the time she’s in her twenties, her brothers are released and giving her the life they’ve always promised. She lives in an apartment that suits all of them and while she has her own room, it’s not uncommon for her to find her way into the bed of one of her brothers just to sleep by their side. She still has nightmares about the way she was woken that one night as a child, but being with her brothers chases the monsters away. They are scarier than anything else she’s come across and they are always in her defence. 

🌂

She doesn’t completely realize when it begins as it starts small. A kiss to the cheek that lands on the corner of her lips. A hand slipping under her shirt to rest at her waist because they’re cold when they’re all curled up on the couch together. Them being curled around her when she wakes up, one of their legs between hers. It doesn’t seem like anything because it’s not just her. Her brothers treat each other with the same casual closeness they show her. 

She doesn’t care. Not really. Her brothers are the only ones she trusts. The only ones who have willingly murdered anyone who touched her. She was there when they beat their father to death. They held her any time she woke up screaming or crying, and pressed kisses to her hair as they promised they would never let anyone hurt her ever again. 

And they didn’t. They never let anyone else near her. Their jealousy was obvious when they first caught her talking to a boy at her high school and continued until they banned her from their clubs unless she went with them. She was only allowed to dance with them, pressed in between her brothers as they grinded against her and told her she was the prettiest one there. She always would be. Their praise made her stomach flip and even though she knows it’s wrong, she can’t push them away. Fear of their abandonment tinged with a desire to keep them close makes her easy to mould…makes it easy to give in.

She’s twenty-two when one of them finally makes a move that can’t be ignored. 

Ran presses his lips to hers with ease, as if he’s done it a thousand times before. She can’t stop the way she freezes in place, the way she stares at him, but her brother tucks a hair behind her ear. “Don’t wait up for us, princess. We’ll be back before dawn.”

“Ran, you just–” she cuts herself off, unsure if she wants to actually say it and make it real. 

“I can’t kiss the one I love?” he asks, teasingly. “You want me to stop, I will.” He leans forward, lips brushing her ear as he whispers, “We’re not him, Ren. We’ll never hurt you.” He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Think about us while we’re gone.”

Rindou, never one to let his brother win, kisses her next. Quickly, before she even realizes he is, he pulls away and leaves first. It makes Ran laugh as he follows him out. 

Renka is left reeling, torn by the fear that if she refuses they’ll leave her and the logic that tells her they’ve always been at her side. They’ve kept her between them for years. They wouldn’t abandon her if she says no. And…she doesn’t want to lose them. No matter what they’ve been through, they survived because of each other. She knows it’s unhealthy and it’ll never be anything they can boast about, but the only people she can picture in her future are her brothers. The only ones she’ll ever feel safe falling asleep next to are Ran and Rindou. It’s a terrible but easy choice to make. 

🌂

They go slow as if they expect her to disappear, to run from them as she ran from her father. The difference is that while she ran from him, she was running towards them. They are her sanctuary. Her home. 

For all the violence they cause, despite the blood on their hands, they’re soft with her. Only her. 

Ran kisses her with slow, open-mouthed kisses, savouring in the way she whimpers into his lips. He treats her delicately, taking things at a pace that sometimes feels excruciating. He builds her up and pulls away until she finally breaks and yanks him back to her. She’s pretty sure he wants her to want him, to crave him the way he claims to feel for her. 

Rindou kisses with desperation, as if he expects her to tell him to stop. He’s carefully attuned to her every move, every sound she makes. Rindou makes her feel wanted in a different way and sometimes, if it feels too much, he slows down. He’s happy enough to share her breath, waiting until she’s ready. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t put the words into the air, but she knows he’s scared she’s chooses Ran over him. As if that was ever possible. She’s theirs and they are hers. 

The change is subtle but extreme. 

They walk in without knocking. Rindou’s hand rests between her thighs when they sit together on the couch and Ran curls up with his face pressed against her breasts after she crawls into his bed. They kiss her without reservation and stop hiding the way they kiss each other. The first time it happens, that she walks in on how Ran has Rindou pinned to the wall, hands on his hips as he grinds against him and they look like they’re attempting to devour each other, she stands there watching. She’s not sure if it’s in surprise, shock or…something else, but she couldn’t look away. 

It’s Rindou who sees her first. He grins at the sight of her watching before saying something to Ran that she doesn’t catch. Ran pulls away from sucking marks into Rindou’s neck. Ran looks up, gaze half-lidded as he looks over at her. “Wanna join, Princess?”

“I didn’t know…”

Rindou scoffs at her. “How’d you think we dealt with wanting you? With being locked up?” 

Ran moves his hand to Rindou’s throat, pressing in and cutting him off from saying anything further. Rindou moans into it. “What our brother is trying to say is that there’s no one better for any of us than each other.” 

She watches as her eldest brother gets on his knees before Rindou and undoes his belt. Rindou’s head falls back against the wall as Ran pulls him out of whatever underwear he’s wearing. Renka has felt her brother’s cocks hard against her before, mainly when she woke up with them pressed up against her, but this is different. 

Rindou’s hand gathers Ran’s braids as he takes him in his mouth. Renka has only seen sex as something damaging, but the sight of Ran smiling as he takes Rindou’s cock in his mouth, the way Rindou groans and tries to thrust into him…reaffirms the idea that it’s not with her brothers. That the two of them have only ever been protective and kind. That even in this, as she watches them in this moment, they take care of each other. Of her. 

🌂

Ran is the first. Of course he is. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs against her skin. She’s lying in his bed, shirt off and looking up at him. It’s late in the night. She woke up from a nightmare, not needing to sneak in because she was already in his bed. She barely has her own at this point. “Tell me if you need to stop, okay, princess?”

She nods because she trusts Ran, even if the feeling of his body on top of hers sends her heart racing. It’s different than before. She wants this now. She knows that. She trusts Ran to take care of her. Her brother always has. 

“Promise. I wanna hear it.”

“I…” Renka takes a deep breath. “I promise.” 

“Good.” 

He takes his time, bestowing praises against her skin as he carefully maps out every curve she lets him explore. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. He leaves marks as if he’s leaving a trail for Rindou to eventually follow. He encourages her to be vocal, that he wants to hear her. No one is covering her mouth this time. It’s just her and her big brother in this moment. 

Ran buries his face between her thighs. He encourages her to bury her hands into his hair that’s loose and unbraided. Renka has never felt anything like this. The few instances of touching herself in the privacy of her room, exploring in hopes of erasing the assault that felt branded into her, never felt like Ran’s mouth does now.

He breaks her apart, makes her see stars behind her eyelids, and when he buries himself into her, it’s by her choice. He lies back on the bed and gives her the option of going further, of riding him. It’s nothing like she’s ever experienced and she somehow loves her brother all the more for giving her the choice…and the power to choose. 

🌂

Rindou is not far behind. Once Ran has broken the final barrier between them, once she’s comfortable with that boundary being crossed, he follows with ease. He takes his time with her, but it’s different. Where Ran knew he was bridging a gap that was created by their father and morally by society, Rindou crosses it without looking back. 

He fucks her on the couch. 

He’s careful with her, don’t get her wrong, but while Ran lures her in with slow, mind-blowing sex, Rindou teaches her how to enjoy it faster. Harder. Until the only thing she knows is how to call his name while her legs are around his waist, begging him for more. He shows her how his weight on top of her isn’t a bad thing, how she can still have the control like that and how good it can feel giving up that control to someone she trusts.

Her confidence grows with the attention they lavish on her and it doesn’t take long before she finds herself between them in more ways than just dancing on the club floor. They teach her everything they think she’s missed. How she likes to be touched, pleasured and teased…and how she enjoys touching them in return. No matter how often they leave hickeys on her neck or bruises on her thighs, she feels nothing but loved by them. It doesn’t matter that the world says it’s wrong because Renka’s life has always been defined by the times with her brothers and without. She has always been safer with them.

There is a third Haitani. 

She loves her brothers. Her brothers love her. More than they’re supposed to. They always have. 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties

I'm not tagging anyone else lol

[lunar-years]

hi! love your blog. I was wondering if you have any fic recs? I’m especially looking for royjamiekeely but I’m flexible :) thank you!!

Hi! I have read a lot of the R/J/K tag, and gosh, there is seriously so much incredible stuff in there. It sort of depends on what kind of vibe you're going for, but here are a few* to get you started.

Note: many of these are rated M or E, so please check the actual warnings and ratings and summaries before reading :)

Start with author inlovewithnight and literally just read everything they've ever written, it is all completely brilliant and there is something for all tastes. My personal favorites are the blood in my mouth, I wish it was mine and they threw me a whirlwind and I spat back the sea, but do be aware those are definitely darker/heavier fics and heed the tags!!! (the first has quite bit of noncon [not between RJK] and the second involves physical abuse initiated by James Sr.). For a lighter option I recommend Follow the Hearts and You Can't Go Wrong which is a lovely future R/J/K fic about the end of Jamie's career

from there move along to @valonia47 (Ao3) and @belmottetower (Ao3) and Mixtape Star (Ao3) and also read everything they've written :) I wanted to single out favorites for you but how could I when it's all so very good?

our bodies touch and the angels cry by lennynards: R/J/K that starts out with Roy & Jamie having to stay within 10 feet of each other at all times after both accidentally drinking a weird tea Jane brewed up for Beard. Yes it sounds like a completely ridiculous premise but it is one of my favorite RJK fics ever, 12/10

In Colour series by lyricl: this one feels so very true to canon and it just gets them all so right, I don't know how else to describe it. It's not a complete series though and nobody has actually gotten together as of yet, fyi. They're all far too busy having a lot of complex (& horny) feelings about each other from afar.

This might be a long shot that's not quite what you're looking for but, For Now series by Wild Wren. It's actually mostly a Roy/Keeley series, and I started reading it on a whim because I literally ran out of new things to read in the R/J/K and Jamie tags at one point, lol. Then it ended up being some of my favorite fanfic of all time. It's Roy/Keeley but like, in a not normative and also very kinky way that does a great deep dive into their respective ~issues~. Also Wild Wren had them break up even before the show had them break up, and in a much better and far more detailed way, just saying!! Part 4 is pre-ot3 in the messiest possible way. What a brilliant series, I cannot recommend it enough.

Outgrow the shoes of expectations by @destinationtoast : Brilliant on the ot3 side of it and even better on the character study of each individual within the ot3. Sooo so good. I think about it all the time.

another box with a question mark by irishmizzy: going to be completely honest when I say I don't fully remember this one, but I do know it was very funny and excellent and it is also rated T which makes it different from a lot of the others on my list, so i wanted to include!! It is in my bookmarks and I'm going to be rereading it asap now :)

something that's so close by @ohlafraise : s3 outtake that is very funny and perfect and lovely and also happens to be rated T :) also check out one night upon the shore by the same author. It's Jamie/Keeley, but don't worry Roy's there in spirit. You'll see. That one is very much not T though, lol

by any other name by renecdote: Jamie accidentally wears a Kent jersey instead of his own jersey on the pitch and the internet thinks they're dating (spoiler: they are dating). Who cares if it's not realistic because it's so hilarious and wonderful, amen.

Oh Lord, You've Never Been so in Love by asexual-fandom-queen. I literally just read this one, it's hot off the presses and it is so sexy and tender and also just gets these three so very right. the perfect anecdote to the end of s3.

Anddd of course I have to self promo a little and recommend you Waterfalls (between seasons 1&2 canon divergence), The Full Picture (s3: Jamie attempting to parent-trap RoyKeeley while avoiding his feelings for both of them) and my new one Confetti (ot3 fluff where they celebrate Phoebe's favorite holidays)

*I said I'd give a few and then proceeded to be really long about it, but like, what else is new? For that reason I've tried to stick to strictly R/J/K fics, but if you'd like Roy/Jamie or gen fic/Jamie fic recs also let me know because I could totally make a whole separate post about those, lol.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

lol Alistair and Rhys out swinging swords at ghosts and looking like a couple of nutters to the untrained eye. Do you still have the fic or maybe it was an ask about chonklet deluxe being held by a horrifying wraith and screaming like the damned?

A little bit! And it was initially an ask. This fic is brand spanking new because I forgot how cool of an idea that shitpost actually was if I took it seriously. Please be warned that this fic is gory and involves child endangerment, a bastardization of mythological creatures and just general violence. Also here on ao3.

Rural Lancashire, 1590

Dusk draped heavily over the world as the last light of day darkened into a thick grey. Arthur had ducked out the door to catch the midwife as she crossed his property on foot. If he was quick, he could often walk her as far as the edge of the village and consult her on whatever it was Alfred had done now. Teething, his first words, the seizures that had gripped him last spring, croup, the rare occasion Alfred was ever colicky. She was a steely woman with hair to match and indulged him at least, giving the best advice she had after decades of bringing children into the world. He'd hardly paid attention to the labours of women, and children so often died that there was rarely time to pay them any heed as they went from the cradle to the casket so quickly.

He had turned back to make his usual beeline for the house, pushing past and between the square hedges and sprawling kitchen garden. Some of the stronger-smelling herbs must have been finally in season; there was a reek Arthur couldn't quite identify. He had hardly cleared the fence when he heard Alfred's usual cry, demanding attention. The baby was a social thing, as personable as Rhys or Brighid and twice as bold about his want of company. He didn't like waking alone, wrapped up cozy in the cradle or otherwise.

Another sound, shrill and high. This one sent a spike of anxiety through Arthur's spine. He paused for the shortest moment. Then he was moving. That was not the cry of a baby who was lonely or wanted to be picked up. That was a terrified howl from his boy. He shot into the house, through the atrium, up the stairs, and into the nursery. Heaving, he flung open the heavy oak door. The smell was there again. The figure of a woman stood in relief against the low fire, Alfred cradled in her arms and screaming. For a stupid, foolish moment, he hoped it was the scullery girl he had told to mind the baby should he begin crying. But the smell. He took a step forward. At a new angle, he could see rotten eyes staring at his son, a cheek missing to decay and teeth gleaming through the gap.

"Baby." Came the garbled sound from long-dead vocal cords.

"You do not belong in this realm," Arthur said, cooly gesturing for her to hand him the child. His guts churned, bile in his throat. The revenants were often as confused as they were disgusting, pulling themselves out of whatever corner they had died and remained undiscovered. "Give me the child."

The Revenant turned to him. "Mine."

"You do not belong in this realm," Arthur said again, gesturing to Alfred again. He was losing patience with fear, the ceaseless screaming from Alfred turning into a hopeless, frightened sob. She tilted her head, and it fell limply to her shoulder, tendons snapping on the other side. She lifted one hand to push it back onto her neck, and he saw her hand for a moment in the light. Her fingers were torn freshly away. Oh, good Christ, this one had crawled out of her grave as they sometimes did when there was an infant's ceaseless crying above them. But Alfred had never stepped foot in the churchyard, and it was nearly a mile and a half away in the village.

"Rhys!" Arthur screamed, praying to god his brother was in the house and not out in the lambing pens.

The woman transferred Alfred almost tenderly to one arm and lunged at him, hand outstretched and her rotting jaw open. It couldn't close and Arthur couldn't hit her; Alfred was a heavy child and would fall to the floor as a leaden weight, and his soft little body would smash. Arthur was cold. Alfred was still crying.

"Give me my fucking son." He lunged, snatching at her arm. A layer of grey slime came away, and he retched even as he got fingers wrapped into the swaddling nearest Alfred's feet. He was suddenly wrestling a corpse, each of them struggling to get their hands on the blanket. One of Alfred's arms had slipped free, and he flailed, a fresh rolling scream emitting from his tiny scarlet face. Arthur had never seen him so flushed. He tried to shove her away and kick at the rotting creature, but more of something wet disintegrated from her legs. His hand was suddenly slick with gore and a piece of her fell to the floor with a putrid plop, unseen under the half-rotten chemise she had been buried in. She almost looked to grin at him and pulled Alfred closer.

"Let go!" He commanded, trying to get a purchase, but his hands were too slippery. He lunged after her as she retreated towards the door. "Let him go!"

Then a sword was through her belly. Something degassed like fetid blacksmith's bellows. Arthur's senses nearly abandoned him at the smell, but his hands closed around Alfred and tugged him to his chest, and he shot back against the wall, as far from the thing as he could get.

"I know. I'm sorry." He gasped, a clean hand cradling Alfred's head. "I'm so sorry."

The creature groaned and collapsed to the floor on its knees, struggling as its guts dissolved around the blade. Rhys stood behind her, still in his lambing clothes and boots, mother's leaf-bladed sword in his hands. He lifted it, and her head fell from her shoulders. The rotting eyes followed Arthur across the room. He watched as Rhys found one of the seams of her skull with the tip, plunged the sword in, twisted like he was splitting a log, and this time, she lay still, dismembered.

"Are you all right?" Rhys said, stepping over the body to look at him. He approached close enough to pull the blanket away to look at Alfred. Arthur tried to meet his brother's eyes. "Arthur?"

He couldn't. He could only close his eyes, hold Alfred tighter and collapse down the wall. Alfred pressed as tight as he dared against his sternum, and Arthur tried to breathe. Alfred's crying had softened, terror fading to a heartbreaking relief, and Arthur kissed his head. To close. Too fucking close.

"He's fine," Rhys said; his voice was much softer this time. "You're both fine, I promise."

[blissfullyapillow]

Oh my, oh my God, 예상했어 나

Oh my, oh my God, 예상했어 나

I was really hoping that he will come through

Wanderer x female reader

wc: ~14,138

Notes: Another fic I wrote with my oc in mind but you can read it as an x reader as well <3, this was inspired by the song OMG by NewJeans but not heavily, tons of characters make an appearance (Diluc, Kaeya, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Pantalone, Capitano, Tighnari, Ayato, etc.) the notes will be too long if I list everyone, this is super long but I hope you enjoy lol ଘ(੭´꒳`)°* ੈ‧₊˚

Back to Masterlist A

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I stare at him across the comically large table (desk? Whatever, it doesn’t really matter) as Capitano updates us on his recent endeavors.

As the others jokingly sing his praises, I study the prickly man in front of me. Scara obviously feels my gaze, if his light foot taping is anything to go by, but he refuses to make eye contact with me as he studies the other harbingers with lifeless eyes.

Out of everyone here, I’m the most curious about him. Pantalone is gorgeous but he’s amiable with the doctor (whom I hate) and the females here scare me.

Seriously. They’re ruthless.

Childe is the only Harbinger I feel comfortable enough to talk to, although I hesitate to approach him at times because it almost always ends in a sparring match.

The outcome is always the same, but despite his many losses against me he continuously asks me to spar. Recently I get the feeling it’s his way of saying he wants to get to know me, so I don’t mind, but my muscles are sore and I need a moment of respite. I eye Capitano as I wonder what he looks like underneath the mask. What kind of man is Capitano truly? There must be more to him that lies beneath the surface.

I have a feeling his story is an interesting one. Even so, my eyes find their usual target ahead of me as I watch Scaramouche. He’s called upon by one of the other harbingers, and I dutifully listen to his report despite tuning Capitano’s out mere moments ago.

Once he’s done we have our usual wrap up before we disperse. I sigh, grateful I wasn’t needed this time around. As I get up to leave I curse under my breath when the Tsaritsa calls for me.

Spoke too soon.

I briskly walk over to her and respectfully heed her orders. My jaw ticks as I conceal my anger that seethes beneath the surface of my cheerful façade. How does she have the audacity to treat me like her daughter?

Deplorable.

“Y/n, it’s time for you to complete your first mission. The beggars we discussed this meeting still haven’t taken kindly to our …requests. We must show them what it means to take our warnings lightly. Since this is your first mission, you may take a harbinger with you.” I feel a cold sweat come over me.

Am I really going to have to kill these people? I shiver at the mere thought, but I have no other option but to oblige. I fear what the Tsaritsa will do to me if I don’t comply, and I rather not experience anymore of her “love.”

My decision is immediately made, but I attempt to make eye contact with him to see what his thoughts are on the situation. His hat was previously obscuring his face, but now an eye peaks out under it to glare at me with murderous intent.

Do not pick me, his expression screams.

I catch Tartaglia’s eye, but I ignore him as Scaramouche’s name leaves my lips.

“Great. Scaramouche, go on. I expect great things from you two.” With that I make my way towards the exit, and I hear Scaramouche’s low grumble behind me as he follows me.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“Why did you pick me?” Hours into our trip he finally talks to me. Throughout the duration of our journey he rotated between making noises of disapproval, insulting me, or just silently glaring at me with the intent to kill.

“Honestly, I’m not so sure myself. Something about you just… draws me to you. I don’t know.” My response leaves him nonplussed as he opts to ignore me as we continue our journey.

We finally reach our destination, and I watch in horror as Scaramouche literally chokes the life out of the man before me. His eyes turn to one of the last people alive, but before he can move towards them I stomp my feet, creating an icy barrier between him and the other person.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His low voice irks me. “What is wrong with you!? This man clearly told you they were holding him hostage and-“ I move away as the man nearly misses cutting off my neck with his knife. Scaramouche is the one who pushes me out of the way.

“You dimwit! He was clearly lying.” He shouts above me. One of his arms cracks as the man pierces it, but it isn’t long before he joins the rest of the corpses that litter the red stained snow.

Scaramouche says nothing as he gets off of me. “Let’s return.” Is all he says. I follow him, hoping he won’t turn his anger onto me.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“How did you know he was lying?” I ask as we near our destination.  “His eyes. They gave him away. Filthy scum.” I recall the man's face, and his eyes pop in my mind. I remember the way they kept darting down as he kept looking behind him.

“Huh. I guess my shock clouded my judgment-“ “No shit it did.” It’s my turn to glare at the puppet beside me as he scoffs. “That’s a good look on you. Next time, make sure you’re useful without dragging me down. I know the Tsaritsa wouldn’t take kindly to me injuring her precious child, so you’re in luck.” He laughs at my annoyed expression.

I don’t know how, but he knows. He knows I hate this and the Tsaritsa for what she’s done. Even so, he pokes fun at me some more before we finally return and he goes back to glaring at me in silence.

The Tsaritsa is pleased with us, and we are dismissed. “Next time, don’t pick me.” Are his final words before he walks away with the doctor.

Jerk.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“Scaramouche.” I pick him again, and again he glares at me. The Tsaritsa is easing me into the whole Harbinger ordeal, and I know it’s only because she favors me for some twisted reason.

“Let’s go.” He says gruffly. This time he roughly grabs my hand as he drags me outside. “What did I tell you last time?” He states more than asks.

“Do not pick you. Too bad I don’t follow your orders, nor do I have to.” I relish the annoyed tick that shows on his face. I roughly remove my hand from his as I keep walking beside him.

“Well, at least this time we don’t have to kill.” I cheer. “Tch. You’re more naïve than I thought.” When I curiously question his words, he replies, “You may think the Tsaritsa is being kind, and in a way she is, but these missions are more than just rookie missions. They’re meant to harden you. Those last people we fought? They originally were ordinary civilians turned criminals due to hardships that had fallen upon them. Hmmm, I wonder who backed them into that corner?” Scaramouche wonders aloud.

I stop walking dead in my tracks. “W-Wait, so what she said was-“ “A lie? Yeah. Get used to that. Keep walking.” He says. I do, but I feel sick to my stomach as I pray the tears on my lashes don’t fall.

Now that I think about it, there was a familiar food cart not too far from them. The food cart is well known in Snezhnaya, but it was torn  to shreds and ripped apart.

I assumed it had nothing to do with our mission and it belong to someone else, but ….

My thoughts are voiced by none other than Scaramouche as he laughs before saying, “The Tsaritsa’s love truly is cruel.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

I continue to pick Scaramouche as my companion for my missions, and he begrudgingly complies. It’s to the point the other harbingers tease us about it.

“Ah, talking to the puppet again?” The knave snickers as I walk past her with said puppet by my side. “His name’s Scaramouche, and he’s more than just a puppet.” I say. She chuckled before ruffling my hair. “Yeah, whatever kid.” She’s off soon after, leaving Scaramouche to gawk at me.

“Why lie to her? What do you gain out of that?” He grunts. I notice the way his frown doesn’t fully reach his eyes, and his arms are crossed in front of him. As if to protect his heart.

It only takes a moment before I say, “I only told her the truth. Let’s hurry today so we can make it back in time for dinner.” As I swiftly walk past Scaramouche, I take notice of the way he tugs his hat down to hide his expression.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“You’re insufferable. Haven’t you had enough yet, or do you get off on this? …stupid bug.” I try to hold in my laughter at his lame insult but I fail miserably when his serious eyes latch onto mine.

“If you really want me to, I’ll pick someone else. I am interested in getting to know some of the others.” I tell him. His eyes widen a bit but nonetheless he walks off and dismisses me. “Do what you want.”

I knew that would be his response, as he doesn’t truly care about anyone, but I still can’t help but feel a twinge of hurt.

That day, I choose Pantalone.

All heads swivel to face Pantalone, and even he has a rare expression of surprise. “Ah, what a pleasant surprise.” I ignore Scara as we pass him, and the harbingers jabs and jokes fade away as I leave with Pantalone.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

My mission with Pantalone went smoothly. He’s…. interesting. He pry's too much though. We constantly tried to outsmart each other in an attempt to get the other to reveal more information about themselves.

It was tiring, albeit exhilarating.

My next choice is Arlecchino, and I chuckle at Scaramouche’s annoyed expression.

If I’m not careful, I would fall for the Knave’s charm. I’m a little weary of her since I know of her dark nature, but nonetheless she doesn’t seem to dislike me and that’s more than enough for me.

Next I choose Tartaglia, and we have a fun time together. We end up racing on the way back, and we both try not to laugh as the Tsaritsa sternly scolds us for our childish and improper behavior as her representatives.

At this point, I am more than capable of completing missions on my own. Despite this, the Tsaritsa still allows me to pick a companion if I so wish. So, I choose the next person of interest.

Capitano stiffens in his seat, but he gets up to accompany nonetheless. Surprisingly, someone speaks up.

“Take me instead.” I hear Colombia snicker beside me as Scaramouche stands where he is. I eye him suspiciously since he was so adamant on me picking others.

When I see something swirl within his usually lifeless eyes, I pick him instead of Capitano.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“I thought you wanted me to pick others?” I ask him. He hums in contemplation, but he doesn’t answer me.

I end up completing the mission on my own as he watches on, and I thank him when he covers me from behind at an unexpected ambush.

“You’ve grown stronger.” He breaks the comfortable silence. I mull over his question as flurries begin falling from the sky.

“Yup. I learned a lot from the others, unlike you.” I giggle at his angry expression. “But… I don’t enjoy myself with them as much as I do with you. Well, maybe Tartaglia. Although I know how you feel about him.” My teasing response results in an eye-roll. “He’s a fool.” “And so are you.” My quick response catches him by surprise, but he’s quick to mask it.

“What do you mean?” He tentatively asks. He sounds so stiff, and I can’t help but chuckle at how unintentionally cute he’s being. “You allow the doctor to use you for his experiments. It honestly infuriates me. No one else sees you as more than a puppet. I would’ve thought the same if I wasn’t so “soft-hearted” as you like to say. I’m actually trying to get to know you, and well…. I’ve drawn my own conclusions about you. I believe my conclusions are in your favor. Oh, we’re here.” I say. I turn to him and he clearly wants me to continue, but I opt for opening the door for him.

“You may enter, your highness.” I gracefully hold the door open for him as I bow. “You’re intolerable. Moron.” He huffs. As he walks in, I stare at his back. His shoulders slightly rise, and a small smile takes over my features.

I’ve never seen him laugh without malice before.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

I do what I must to survive, and before I know it I’m a full fledged unofficial member of the harbingers. The Tsaritsa prefers to keep my presence a secret since I may be recognized by those who previously knew my mom.

I can’t help but bitterly laugh at the irony of my situation. Thankfully, I’ve finally devised a way to escape the shackles of the Tsaritsa’s “benevolence.”

There is an approaching snowstorm. The Tsaritsa has an essential task she needs completed before the snowstorm covers the land of Snezhnaya with heavy snowfall. I unfortunately had to beg a little for her to allow me to go, she thankfully relented. I’m much stronger than I was years prior, and anyone here can acknowledge that. I’m allowed to undergo the mission alone on the premise I return before the snow begins to fall in heavy flurries.

The mission is easy. A group of bandits using the fatui’s name to do as they please. I handle them with ease well before the snow begins to fall.

Perfect. I begin making my way towards my destination in haste. The snow shall be my curtain as I make my way towards the one ship leaving Snezhnaya tonight. This is my one and only chance to believably escape the Tsaritsa. Me falling in combat isn’t believable, but getting lost in the snowstorm is much more likely, albeit only a little.

The snowstorms in Snezhnaya are intense and harsh. If you’re unlucky enough to get caught in the storm, you’re as good as dead. Just leaving your home without multiple layers of clothing, on a normal day, is asking for an illness to befall you.

I shiver as I trudge through the cold winter of Snezhnaya. The snow is beginning to fall in earnest now, and it’s getting hard to see my feet in front of me. It doesn’t matter, I need to make it to the ship before it’s too late.

It takes me a while but I make it just in time to board the ship unannounced. Just as I’m about to board, a voice calls for me in the distance.

I freeze.

No, she wouldn’t have.

But she did, and Scaramouche’s short figure is outlined by the thick snow falling from the sky. “The Tsaritsa wanted me to ensure you made it back safely. Honestly, this is a real hassle you know.” He scoffs as he makes his way over to me. My feet are rooted to the spot. Scaramouche isn’t someone easily fooled, but I must leave. My getaway blows its horn once in preparation to depart.

“Well, let’s go. I can’t feel the cold but I’m sure you must be freezing, mortal. You…” his voice trails off once he stops directly in front of me, and his eyes bore into mine. “What are you planning?” He asks himself more than me. He peers into the blanket of white, and he obviously makes out the ship behind me because he starts laughing.

“You seriously think you can escape the Tsaritsa? You’re her favorite you know. She’ll search for you even if I gave her an accurate fake body. You’re not safe in this world as long as she’s around.” He chuckles, but I see a glint of something in his eyes. “Scaramouche, please. Let me go.” I know asking him is pointless. He doesn’t feel emotions like I do, at least in his perspective, and he couldn’t care less about me or my wellbeing.

I look down as tears threaten to fall and my heart lurches in my throat. So close yet so far.

I can’t let it end here.

“Scara-“  “Let’s make a deal. We got separated by the thick snow after we encountered one of Snezhnaya’s infamous avalanches. We pass by a mountain on our way here, so it’s believable. I search for you for hours but I’m unable to find you. I return demanding a search party. When she can’t find you she’ll initially be grief stricken, but I’m sure she’ll only become more determined to find you. I do this on the condition you heed my beck and call in the future, when I put that plan into action.” I gasp at his words, equally grateful and confused.

I purposefully overheard a conversation between the doctor and Scaramouche about their plans for him to become a “false god.” I escaped the doctor’s watchful eyes somehow, and even though I bumped into one of his clones they were too occupied to put two and two together.

I wasn’t so lucky with Scaramouche, but he ultimately didn’t care that I knew so long as I kept that information to myself.

I sigh and pull Scaramouche in for a hug. He groans and complains as I hug him tight. “Thank you thank you thank you!” I breathlessly thank him for his uncharacteristic display of kindness. “Whatever. Now go before I change my mind. You’ll no longer be a thorn in my side, so this is a beneficial situation for both you and I…. and…“ His breath hitches towards the end of his sentence, like he wants to say more but he chooses not to.

I know. I understand the unspoken words and feelings he has yet to realize he has. Hopefully that’ll change with time. Time thatI yearn to spend with him, but under more desirable circumstances. Nonetheless, I squeeze his arm as I pull away. “We’ll meet again. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Take care of yourself in the meantime, okay? I lo- I’ll miss you.” I quickly correct myself.

The balladeer stands before me with the most expressive facial expression I’ve ever seen on him before.

“… I like you. People say I have no taste, but I like you. So stay alive so we can meet again. Farewell, y/n.” With that he turns on his heel, unmoving.

I let out raucous laughter before I race towards the now departing ship. I make it just in time to board by making ict pedestals against the side of the ship. As the ship departs the obscure dock, I watch the short figure in the distance. He still doesn’t move even when he’s a mere speck in the distance.

I can’t help but clutch the glowing masterless vision against my chest. My mother’s.

I refuse to weep, but a stubborn tear slips past. If he truly doesn’t have a heart, why did he look after me in his own way? Why did he let me go?

I can only sigh.

Along with the sorrow of leaving Scaramouche behind, I feel a newfound sense of excitement and.. freedom.

Even though I’ll have to live my life in fear of the Tsaritsa finding me again, I’m finally free.

Free from Snezhnaya. Free from the Tsaritsa.

Free from my mother’s lingering regret that she couldn’t escape the Tsaritsa’s watchful eye, which ultimately led to her demise.

As the motherland fades in the distance and I sneeze from the low temperature, a glowing light shines against the darkness of the surrounding sea.

I gingerly hold the Anemo vision in my hands, and I finally allow myself to smile.

I’m finally free, yet there’s a sharp pain in my chest. It doesn’t stem from a physical cause, but from a psychological one.

This feeling…

This must be what it means to have an aching, broken heart.

⁎⁺˳  ✧༚ ˎˊ˗    ♡     ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Is that the honorary knight?” I think out loud as I peek my head out from behind a building. I swiftly resume my previous hiding place when they glance in my direction moments later.

I breathe a sigh of relief when no one comes to investigate. I continue walking to my destination, and I close my eyes in bliss as the wind carries away all of my worries.

I’m curious about this traveler. Maybe I’ll follow them for a bit and see what they’re up to. Knowing the truth of this world, an outsider is certain to shake things up. And the Tsaritsa…

I scold myself for thinking about her after I’ve already left Snezhnaya. What she did to mom-

A flurry of images of my mom before her death rush back to me, and the Tsaritsa’s face accompanies the painful memories. I clutch the hem of my clothing and take a few, slow deep breaths. My skin feels clammy and I’m suddenly feeling lightheaded.

“Oh? What’s a pretty lady like you doing leaning against the wall like that? We haven’t even been properly introduced yet, but here you are falling for me already.” I ignore the teasing cavalry captain, who was previously talking to the traveler, as I focus on calming my panicked mind.

It takes me a few moments, but I eventually manage to calm myself down. Once my mind is clear I finally feel the soothing hand from the cavalry captain rubbing up and down my back.

Oh, maybe I didn’t do it completely on my own.

“.. Thanks.” I shyly thank him, and when I look up to see his face I’m greeted with his handsome smile. “No problem. How about we sit down and chat, hm? I noticed you staring at the traveler and I earlier, and I’m curious as to what your reasons are.” The man hums and before I know it he’s leading me to sit at one of the table’s outside of Angel’s Share.

Ah, this man is clever. I have to be careful not to slip up in front of him, but I’ve never struggled before.

“So, where are you from? I’ve never seen you in Mondstadt before.” He curiously asks me. His eyes languidly drift over my features before they peer into my eyes. He’s openly reading me, so I take the opportunity to do the same. I sense a familiar pain hidden in his uncovered eye. Before I can search any deeper he closes his eye to smile before leaning back.

“Oh, you’re going to be a lot of fun to have around. I can feel it.”

⁎⁺˳  ✧༚ ˎˊ˗    ♡     ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“I’ll always return to Mondstadt. It’s another home for me now. I’ll see you when I return, okay?” I bid a semi-tearful farewell to the man before me, and he embraced me with concealed enthusiasm.

“Ah, my dear Y/n. Who will scold me now when I’m supposedly ‘slacking off?’” Kaeya pretends to sob as he runs a hand along my back, just like he did when we first met.

“Your brother will, for sure. ‘Oh, the Knights of Favonius, always so inefficient.” I mimic Diluc’s voice. Kaeya bursts into heartfelt laughter as he releases me. I giggle along with him and turn around, only to face the red head we were just talking about.

I feel my cheeks warm as Diluc sports an unamused look. “You too, Y/n?” He huffs. I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I stare into his eyes for a moment before I avert mine in embarrassment. He’s so handsome, he makes me feel so nervous around him!

“Uh- It’s just jokes Diluc.” I nervously chuckle. Diluc’s lips quirk into a smirk before he ruffles my hair. As I complain and fix my hair he says “I know. Have a safe trip. Visit the Angel’s Share again if you need anything. I’m sure I’ll be of more use than the ‘inefficient Knight of Favonious.’” This time it’s Diluc’s turn to mimic me, and Kaeya’s non stop laughter only cranks up in Volume.

Kaeya helped me settle into Mondstadt and assisted me in finding my own place to stay. I managed to avoid revealing anything too specific about my situation. Due to something unspoken between the two of us that Kaeya & I mentally acknowledged about the other, he helped me fit right in to Mondstadt. Since we were outside of Angel’s Share Diluc happened to see us during our  first conversation, and that’s how I got to know the infamous Diluc Ragnvindr.

I remember the story the other Harbingers told me about the red haired man who decimated many Fatui camps, all on his own and without a vision. They relayed their distaste that he managed to escape, but personally meeting Diluc made me glad they failed to finish him off. He’s awfully cute and sweet in his own way. I recall the nights he let me stay with him at the Dawn Winery when Kaeya was still helping me find a home, and I’m forever grateful to the both of them.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you. Bring back something from your travels, okay?” With that Diluc is ready to see me off, a solemn smile on his face. “Of course! Anything for you Diluc.” My overeager response surprises both of us as I blush in embarrassment. Diluc looks taken aback as he awkwardly coughs into his sleeve. A blush lights up his face like a beacon; I can’t help but giggle at the sight of his flustered expression.

“Alright, alright. Off you go!” Kaeya ushers me forward and I make my way to my next destination: Liyue.

I begin my journey with a running start. I make a brief stop at the big tree at Windrise. I close my eyes and allow myself a moment to be vulnerable as I pray for my mother. “Anemo archon Barbatos, please watch over my journey as I explore the depths and secrets of this world.” I stand, and my prayers are immediately answered.

I swivel around at the sound of a joyful voice. Ah, Venti. The Archon himself stands before me with a goofy smile on his face. “Well hello there! What brings you here? I happened to be passing by and…” he trails off. I’m sure my expression is one of shock, but also glee. I’ve always liked the Anemo Archon most from the stories the Tsaritsa would tell me. “Bar- Ahem. Venti, I’m honored to be able to meet you!” I try to contain my childlike glee at meeting the Anemo Archon.

Venti’s expression is one of surprise and curiosity. “Well well, it looks like the most curious individual has arrived here in Mondstadt. Say, why don’t you tell me your tale? I have a feeling it’s grand, and a story the world shall refuse to find bland.” I can’t help the smile that reaches my ears as the bard before me poetically asks for my story.

“Hm. I’ll save it for another day. I bet it’s not as amazing as yours, little wind spirit.” Venti’s mouth falls agape, and before he can say another word I’m gone from his line of sight in a flurry of snowflakes and a strong gust of wind.

⁎⁺˳  ✧༚ ˎˊ˗    ♡     ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“So, who is he?” The Geo Archon prompts. “Hmm?” I inquire. I watch as Zhongli blows his cup of tea before taking a sip. I follow his lead, and I swoon at the exquisite taste of tea and fine delicacies he’s prepared for our meal.

I got the Geo Archon to sit down with me after confiding in him. I may or may not have been sorrowfully staring at the dark Liyue clouds above as the rain masked my tears.

Zhongli happened to pass by, and despite my insistence that I was fine he ushered me inside and offered to lend me an ear.

Instead of talking about the thoughts that were actually plaguing my thoughts, I end up becoming side tracked as I gush to Zhongli about Scaramouche.

Of course he doesn’t know who it is I’m talking about, but that doesn’t stop me from spilling my heartfelt feelings to him. “Hmm… honestly, I’m not sure. What if I’m the only one who feels this way? It’s likely. You know how he is.” Zhongli nods thoughtfully at my words. “Even so, it’d be hard for him to not feel gratitude, at the very least. If he really is as bloodthirsty and cruel as you say he is, then he wouldn’t have saved you. Although I don’t have all the details, I’m sure this man harbors feelings that you may be unaware of. Whether these are the feelings you hope they are is another issue entirely, but something tells me you aren’t the only one who is harboring feelings for the other.” Zhongli’s words cause the unmistakable feeling of hope to swell up inside of me.

I hate the way I blush and avert my eyes. I start smiling like a lovestruck fool, so I attempt to hide my smile behind my tea cup after taking another sip.

“Ah, there it is. I see the love you have for this man in your eyes.” My mouth falls open as words fail me, and Zhongli lets out a hearty chuckle. “To be young and in love… What a beautiful thing.” I remain silent as I finish the tea, and as the rain pelts a euphonious sound outside I relish in the calm atmosphere that surrounds the Geo Archon and I.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“What should I do?” I whine to Xingqiu. He hums as he contemplates his response whereas Chongyun responds almost immediately.

“Why don’t you continue exploring? This world is vast, but I’m sure you’ll run into him again at some point.” Chongyun bites into his Popsicle, and I eat the one I begged him to give me.

It’s comforting eating something with no taste. I see why this calms Chongyun down.

Xingqiu bites into his own Popsicle (we may or may not have teased Chongyun to the point he caved and gave us both a Popsicle) as his eyes light up. It seems he’s found his answer.

“I agree. If it’s meant to be, you will see each other again. Don’t hold yourself back, and pursue what it is that you truly want.” I ponder Xingqiu’s words as Chongyun asks him where he learned to tell such great advice.

What is it that I want though?

I feel their eyes on me but I hang my head so my hair will obscure my eyes.

“If you do not know what it is that you want, I hope you’ll be able to find it during your travels.” Xingqiu reads my mind, and his comforting hand running along my back gives me a sense of comfort.

Chongyun joins in on the back rubbing, and I laugh at their complaints towards each other when their hands keep bumping into each other.

I have an idea of where my path lies, and it all starts with the father I have not had the opportunity to know.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The scenery is beautiful…

I gasp in awe when the sakura petals fall from the beautiful trees surrounding the city.  I need to stay on task, but the beautiful sites are distracting.

It took a lot of time and effort to make it to Inazuma while the decree is going on. I also made sure to hide my visions on my person. I can fend off anyone who tries to take my visions from me, but it’s honestly too much hassle. I’d rather just hide them for the time being.

“Now, I have almost nothing to go off of and a father to find. Hooray!” I falsely cheer under my breath. I continue to navigate the somewhat lively streets of Inazuma. I’m sure things will perk up once this stupid decree is over.

I convinced Captain Beidou to take me to Inazuma, with the help of my lovely friends from Liyue, and I had the pleasure of meeting a wandering samurai.

Once Beidou docked at Inazuma I immediately scurried off with a brief farewell to her and the samurai, whose name is apparently Kazuha.

I wind up aimlessly walking around Inazuma for hours before I eventually wander out of the city. I end up in front of a fancy looking building as I walk through the gate. “Oh! Who are you? Are you lost?” A cheerful voice pipes up from beside me.

I jump and place a frightened hand on my chest as I swivel around to face the voice.

Green eyes widen in surprise. “Woah, slow down! I didn’t mean to scare you. …Is everything okay?” I don’t answer as I frantically survey my surroundings. Did I walk into enemy territory?? Will this person try to take my visions? What if-

Oh, wait. My visions are hidden.

I sigh in relief once I remember I hid my visions.

I look down and see a gleaming pyro vision, and the person awkwardly coughs as they maneuver themselves so that it’s out of my line of sight.

“Um… sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you or whoever lives here. I’m just wandering around and looking for my father..” “Oh, no worries at all! Do you have any information about your father? Maybe I can help!” I finally look at the person’s face. He fixes me with a smile, and his friendly demeanor is so warm and comforting I allow myself to relax a bit around him.

“Oh, well-“ “Thoma, would you mind… oh, who’s this?” An audible gasp slips out of me as the most pretty man I’ve ever laid eyes on walks over to Thoma and I. “Oh, Lord Ayato! I was just trying to help this young lady. She seems lost and-“ “Young lady? While I appreciate the compliment, I am of age you know.” I huff. Thoma awkwardly chuckles at that.

“I see. Well, nice to meet you…” Ayato trails off. “Yume.” I supply my name. Ayato’s eyes sharpen slightly in interest, but the coy man before me is quick to mask his expression and continue the conversation. “Ah, an Inazuman name. If your name’s origins lie here, why are you lost? Is it really true you’ve never been here before?” Ayato carefully judges my expression, watching me for any abnormal movements.

Oh?! This man thinks I’m lying!?

I feel my face flush with contained rage as I resist the urge to stomp my foot like a petulant child. “Excuse me, Lord Ayato, I have no reason to insinuate something that isn’t true. I have nothing to gain out of that. I’m simply looking for my father and I was hoping to find any information I could about him. I don’t know him per se because of my.. situation, but I’d love to meet him again. I met him a few times as a child so I remember what he looks like but that is all.” With a huff I finish my tense monologue. Thoma looks on with wide eyes as Ayato chuckles to himself.

“Ah, I see. You really are the little firecracker you’ve been told to be.” Ayato’s words cause me to falter, and I’m quick to eagerly look into his eyes. “You know something about me!? Do you potentially… know my father? His surname is-“ “Haruka. Yes, I know. Say, join me for tea later. I unfortunately have urgent business to tend to at the moment. Another meeting…” Ayato says that last part under his breath more to himself than the rest of us.

Thoma attempts to comfort the pretty lord, and I smile as I witness their cute dynamic. “Alright, I’ll see you later Y/n.” With a swift kiss against my hand Ayato is gone.

I giggle like a silly schoolgirl and swoon. Thoma sighs. “That’s the Yashiro Commissioner for you…” Thoma mumbles. “Alright Y/n, let me show you around the estate until my lord returns. This is also a good chance for me to get to know you better.” I agree, and I follow Thoma around what is apparently known as the Kamisato Estate.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Ayaka and I laugh at Thoma’s flustered expression.“You guys are being unfair y’know…” Thoma groans. “Oh? But surely our assumptions had some truth to it. You haven’t denied our claims.” Ayaka hums. Thoma remains silent which causes me to burst into another fit of giggles. “Ah, whatever. Hopefully lord Ayato will return soon so I can- hey, look who just walked in!” Thoma comically shoots up from his seat to greet an amused Ayato.

Aw man, no more teasing Thoma.

“I have returned. Ah, Ayaka. How was your day?” Ayato takes time to address Ayaka and ask her about her day and what she’s been up to, and by the gleam in her eyes I can tell she appreciates it. I smile fondly as I watch the three of them converse. It must feel to be surrounded by the ones you love.

Ayato catches my eye, and I quickly lower my gaze to the ground and fiddle with the hem of my clothes. Ayato finishes his conversation with Thoma and Ayaka, and I bid them farewell as they leave. Ayato takes a moment to watch them go before he turns around. His eyes are curious, and I hold his gaze for a moment.

He chuckles to himself before he makes his way over to me and sits across from me. He asks me how I feel about the Kamisato Estate, and he leans his head against his propped hand as his eyes bore into mine.

“You’re- I mean!- It’s beautiful, and It’s filled with equally beautiful souls.” I mentally pat myself on the back for my somewhat smooth save, and he looks a bit taken aback.

“Oh? I wouldn’t have taken you for a smooth talker.” Ayato chuckles.

I bashfully laugh off his remark before the room returns to silence.

Come on Y/n, stop being so awkward!

I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my nerves. Okay, now my head is in the game.

"So, what do you know about my father? Is he the one you heard that little tidbit about me from?" I ask with an audible quiver in my voice.

Great.

Well at least I got the question out. I squirm and hope he doesn't mention my obvious nerves. “Well, your father... I've met your father a total of three times, and each time is an experience I will never forget. Your father is an interesting man, and I happened upon him numerous times while out on … business endeavors. Thanks to your fathers' actions the most elusive individuals that have avoided the law for years have been caught." I take a moment to absorb Ayato's words. "So... My dad's like Shikanoin Heizou?" My question catches him by surprise, before he laughs with evident mirth. "How do you know about detective Shikanoin Heizou?"

I blush as I recount the sight of Heizou walking around the streets of Inazuma. I have yet to personally meet him, but I got a good vibe from him when I observed him from afar. The only reason I even learned of his name is because citizens nearby started gossiping about him, and I asked them to clue me in.

“People told me that Shikanoin Heizou is the man to ask if I'm searching for someone. Apparently, he's the best of the best." Ayato sips his boba as he listens to me, and I do my best to keep my face neutral when he keeps sipping even though the cup is clearly empty.

I can relate. I do the same thing whenever I'm drinking my favorite beverage.

Ayato hums before he abruptly sits up. I follow his lead, albeit a bit confused, and he leads me out of the Kamisato Estate. As we continue walking, he finally speaks up. "You're one step ahead of me. ..How unusual. I was going to suggest you seek out Shikanoin Heizou since I have no information on the whereabouts of your father. To answer your earlier inquiry, yes. In a way, your father is like Shikanoin Heizou except… the means he uses to seek and destroy his enemies is... well... not entirely legal. Still, in my eyes he's a good man. He mentioned his daughter in a distant land the last time I happened across him. I believe it was a slip of the tongue said in a moment of vulnerability. Nonetheless, I shall introduce you to the Tenryou Commission's best detective. He can guide you in the right direction, better than I ever could." With that, I remain silent as Ayato leads me to my destination.

I can’t help but wonder what you’ve been up to all these years, father. Actually, I guess the real question is…

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“How have you been?” I nervously ask Heizou in an attempt to break the ice.

“Better now that I’ve finally secured the final piece to this unsolved mystery. Archons! I’ve been so close to catching this man yet so far since I was missing this vital piece of information for months. This is unusual for me, you know. I usually catch my culprits quickly. Hey, how about I treat you to something after this? Only if you’re up to it of course. A pretty lady like yourself deserves such a reward.” I swear all these handsome, beautiful, and downright gorgeous men are going to be the death of me!

Why is Inazuma filled with pretty men??

“I- um, yes! I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you very much.” I furiously blush when Heizou turns around to send a wink in my direction as we continue our quick pace towards our destination. “If I’m correct, he should be just about ready to leave based on his usual pattern. So right here would be-“ Heizou is surprisingly swift and agile, so he’s a bit ahead of me. He’s even further ahead now, so I quicken my steps and attempt to catch up. I stop when I accidentally bump into a large figure.

“Oh my gosh I’m sorry! I apologize but I can’t stop, I’m in a..” I would’ve kept going if I didn’t catch a glimpse of their eyes under their hood.

Eyes that resemble mine.

We both freeze for a moment.

“Um.. I may be mistaken, and I am I apologize, but could you happen to be-“

I don’t even get a chance to finish my sentence. He’s quick to maneuver himself out of my way and run off.

Oh no he doesn’t.

I give chase, leaving Shikanoin behind.

..well, ahead. I guess.

Only behind for a few moments though, since I see him giving chase when I glance behind me.

“Father, wait!” I grunt as I follow my father’s annoying escape route. Over buildings, over pesky fences, through narrow spaces, he goes above and beyond to shake me off his trail.

He’ll have to try harder than this, but if I don’t do something soon he’ll definitely slip through my fingers.

I pray Heizou is close enough, and I use an object I spot nearby and drop it to the ground, blocking Heizou’s path. I have faith he’ll take the hint, as it’s very obvious, and I continue chasing the person I’m convinced is my father.

It isn’t long before we circle around the small space we’re in, since we’re in a busier area now and it’s hard for them to move around all the architecture while simultaneously avoiding me.

I glance in the direction I hope Heizou is in, and I use my Cryo vision yet again to encapsulate us and anyone in the vicinity in an icy cage.

The person stops and begins to scale the ice.

Why am I not surprised?

I worry that Heizou really wasn’t behind me when the person is at the top of the ice cage. I watch in despair as they carefully avoid the sharp outer edges of my temporary prison.

Before they are able to finish scaling the ice, I hear a familiar voice.

“Can’t fool me!” A  whirlwind knocks the person midair.

Game over!

With the wind as my wings I soar into the sky and tightly grasp the person in my arms. They struggle, and because of their build it’ll only be a moment before they’re released from my strong grip.

A moment was all I needed.

I hate to do this, but I use this moment to freeze the individual with my vision.

They cry out for a moment, for me to stop, but it’s only a matter of seconds before they’re a frozen statue in my arms.

I feel myself fall back to the hard ground below as they now weigh way more than they did before. In a panic I create a slide of sorts to bring us back down and away from the gathered crowd of spectators.

I’ll have to thank Heizou later, but for now I have a few words I wish to exchange with my father in private.

…This’ll be really embarrassing if this isn’t my father.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“What do you want, kid? I swear you got your stubbornness from your mom.” My dad sighs from across the fire I built for him to cool off.

Pun intended.

He was not pleased as the ice around him slowly melted, but I’m more than grateful that he didn’t attempt to run again and agreed to talk with me over the fire and some delicious food.

He eats the food I made while keeping steady eye contact with me. I can’t help but feel a bit nostalgic, even though I have no recollection of doing things like this with him before.

“Hey, father? Why… why didn’t you come with mom to Snezhnaya?” My question catches him off guard. He’s silent only for a moment before he groans as he takes another bite of the food we prepared.

“Listen-“ The look I give him causes him to close his mouth for a moment before he opens it again to properly explain himself.

“Your mother.. I didn’t follow her to Snezhnaya because she planned to move back here with you when you grew a bit older. She lived with you in Snezhnaya for reasons I will not delve into, but I.. I loved your mother. After I found out what happened to her..” He sighs, and that sigh alone holds a lot of weight. I can see the heartache in his eyes as he downs some water. “Let’s just say I took matters into my own hands, and it evolved from there. Unfortunately, I can’t do my work in Snezhnaya since your mother has passed and I’d probably be hunted and killed by Fatui so… I do it here. The place your mother wanted to live and grow old with a family.” My breath hitches, and I wince when he mentions the Fatui.

Does he know what happened to me? I glance at his face, and it’s back to being as impassive as ever. My eyes catch sight of his hands as he drinks more water, and the ring on his finger shines due to the light of the fire.

That ring.. wait, my mother also wore a ring on her finger…

I study the ring on his finger, and suddenly memorizes that I’ve buried from years ago.

No wonder this fire feels nostalgic. Mom brought me to visit Inazuma a few times, and the times I did visit she always had rendezvous with dad. One of the times we had a temporary reunion, we sat by a fire together like this. The circumstances were different and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and cheer, it wasn’t so… solemn.

If only things didn’t turn out the way they did, then…

Mom would still be here, and I’d never have had to commit such atrocities under the Tsaritsa’s gaze.

I don’t notice I’m crying until my father huffs and reaches over to wipe my tears. “Kid, I won’t ask for forgiveness or stop doing things the way I’ve been doing them for years. All I ask is that if you’re ever in trouble, come to me. I will not let what happened to your mother happen to you. I will gladly die if it means protecting you, alright? Now finish eating. It’s getting late and I’m sure that short kid is worried about you.” I sniffle at my dad’s harsh yet kind words, and I do as instructed.

Although the atmosphere is solemn, we reminisce about mom and I tell him about the things she did and the people she helped before she died. We laugh together and bond over memories of mom. We begin to forge a bond that never had the opportunity to develop to its full potential.

Before we part ways, my dad gives me one last piece of advice as I give him a tearful hug. “I know it may be hard, but think about the person you want to become. Do what your heart tells you, but don’t ignore your head either. Although.. maybe it’ll be a good thing if you do, knowing how hot headed you can be.” I smack my dad’s back in a show of exasperation, and he laughs.

He releases me from our hug, ruffles my hair, and is out of sight before I can finish lifting my arm to wave farewell.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Heizou is visibly upset I let my dad escape, since his actions aren’t… entirely legal, but he lets it slide for my sake.

Although now I have to help him solve another case sometime in the future.

I agree to his terms, and it isn’t long before I’m moving on to the next nation with a bit more guidance and feelings of turmoil in my heart.

That is, until I see him.

A glimpse. The soft jingles as his hat sways with the breeze.

He’s going into a.. factory? My throat constricts and my heart pounds loudly in my ears, yet a broad smile makes its way on to my lips.

It’s him! Scaramouche!! In Inazuma!

I’m determined to call out to him, but I stop myself when I see Signora following him close behind.

My cheeks burn and I immediately close my mouth. Damn, I’d sneak around, but that isn’t in my best interest.

So, with a sorrowful sigh, I leave my heart behind and follow my head to my next destination.

…

Which is where my heart is, and my heart is currently in an abandoned factory in Inazuma.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Stealth isn’t my virtue, but I can make it work when the situation is truly dire.

I sneak into the factory and overhear an interesting conversation between Scaramouche and Signora.

As he talks to her, dismissive as usual, I study his body language and facial expressions. Huh, he’s the same old Scaramouche.

Except he seems a bit more…

I pout as I watch from afar. Signora finally leaves, and my heart aches for the person standing alone in an abandoned building.

I restrain myself from revealing myself to greet him since I can’t take the risk of another Fatui member spotting us. I sneak back out of the facility.

Lost in thought, I’m not paying enough attention and I accidentally hit my foot against something. Not only does it create a sound that reverberates throughout the factory, but oh my archons it hurts my foot!

“Who’s there?” Scaramouche is quick to change his stance as he readies for a potential fight against an intruder.

Quick, Run!

I’m out of the factory like lightning and manage to hide outside the factory before he can spot me. He looks annoyed from afar as a lower ranked Fatui member approaches him and asks for something. I hope he thinks it was them.

I can finally breathe easy, and I silently watch on as the man who shouldn’t have a heart unknowingly holds one in his blood stained hands.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

I lurk around Inazuma a bit more and lo and behold, the traveler makes an appearance. I can only imagine what will become of Inazuma with the traveler here, so I choose this opportunity to take my leave before things can escalate.

I bid farewell to my newfound Inazuman friends, and I convinced captain Beidou to give me a ride back to Liyue.

As the ship leaves the dock, my father’s lone figure makes a brief appearance. I smile and wave, and this time, he waves back.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“Oh my goossshhhh.” I whine. It’s taking me forever to find a totally not illegal way into Sumeru. Judging by the traveler’s pattern, this is sure to be their next destination, albeit not for a while.

May as well explore this place again before the traveler’s influence reaches it.

I have made a singular trip here before with the doctor and Scaramouche before I left the harbingers, and I felt beyond uncomfortable around the doctor. I felt bad, but I did not protest when the doctor said he has business to tend to with the balladeer. So, I let them be and briefly explored the vast rainforests of Sumeru. I didn’t get to do too much exploring, but this time is different.

“Yes!! Finally!” I grin and shout with joy when I’m finally in Sumeru. Which unfortunately catches someone’s attention, and I scramble to hide.

A… fox person? Bunny? No, probably a fox due to their tail.

A fox person enters my line of sight as they scour the area. “People shouldn’t be here. How did this dolt manage to make it through?” They say aloud to themself. They sniff the air and start heading in my direction, so I book it.

“Hey! Wait up!” The voice calls for me. I don’t look back until I’m sweaty and panting as I catch my breath near a statue of the seven above my head. I look up at the statue and groan in dismay.

This is going to be a long journey.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“Hmm. I see. Thank you for your information.” I thank the scholar. They wave me off, and I leave the area. The more I learn about this nation’s archon, the more heartbroken I feel. How can a nation treat their Archon so cruelly? Just calling her “Lesser Lord” is honestly disrespectful in and of itself.

What I’ve heard from the Tsaritsa about the Greater & Lesser Lord seems to add up from what the residents of Sumeru have told me. For once, I actually anticipate the traveler’s arrival. Hopefully they can fix this mess.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I make my own acquaintances as I explore all Sumeru has to offer. I’ve grown quite fond of this nation, almost as much as Mondstadt.

Although, nothing will ever surpass Mondstadt.

I often find myself perusing the books in the Akademiya, and that’s how I’ve wormed my way into a particular scholar’s life.

“Alllhaaiiithhhaammmm!” I call. His sigh conveys such unconfined dismay that I burst into a fit of giggles. “Here to annoy me again?” “Yes, and this time I want a bigger book!” “…You got it.” Alhaitham immediately hands me a book, and I’m surprised he already had one picked out.

He eyes my surprised expression and he shakes his head at me like a parent scolding their child. “You should know you always stick to the same routine, it’s hard not to anticipate your actions. I’ve picked out a book for you to save myself time. You can read it here with me, or not. Just don’t disturb me while I read.” With a satisfied hum, I take a seat across from Alhaitham and crack open the book.

My eyes alight at the sound of the hardcover book being opened, and I resist the urge to nerd out about the antique book smell that wafts up to my nostrils.

The first time I came to the Akademiya, I asked multiple scholar’s for book recommendations, but none of them knew any books that described what I was looking for. Eventually one of them referred me to Alhaitham. Alhaitham was quick to help me locate the book I was actually searching for. Of course after that experience I made it a habit to visit the Akademiya everyday.

This is Alhaitham and books we’re talking about. I love books, and the books I’m reading contain knowledge that is not easily accessible. Surprisingly, Alhaitham still lends them to me. Maybe he’s inferred more about me than he lets on? Otherwise it wouldn’t make sense why he would risk his integrity as a scribe to lend me these books.

Speaking of books.

I happily hum as I flip the first page of the book, and the first few sentences have me hooked. This book is about the origins of Sumeru, Irminsul, and the Akasha. Except this book contains more information than what’s available to the public.  I already have “forbidden” knowledge because of the Tsaritsa, but it’s always good to read up on topics yourself to make your own judgements and interpretations.

As I flip through the book I feel Alhaitham’s gaze on me, but I don’t say anything about it as I continue to flip through the book.

Eventually he awkwardly coughs to get my attention, and that’s when I finally look at him. We’re not super close since we’re across the table from one another but my cheeks still flush when our eyes meet. He’s very handsome.

“Y/n, what knowledge are you hoping to obtain from reading all these books?” Alhaitham’s question catches me a bit off guard, and I take a few moments to contemplate my answer.

“More knowledge about this world.” Is my simple response. Alhaitham puts his book down, and I’m so shocked by the action his next words don’t immediately register with me. “Well to me it seems that the knowledge you seek will not be found within these books.”

After I get over the fact he genuinely put his book down to have this conversation with me, I stare at his intense irises. His eyebrows are drawn together and he looks oddly serious. “What do you mean by that? I just told you the knowledge I seek is about this world.” Alhaitham acknowledges my words with a nod of his head, yet that expression remains.

“Yes, that is what you told me. However, your eyes tell me there’s more to it than that.” Said eyes widen as Alhaitham reads me like the book he just set down. He continues to speak when I remain silent. “It seems the true knowledge you seek lies within yourself, and you already have all the answers you need. Take some time to yourself to think about what it is you truly want. Scouring these books on knowledge you’ve already attained will not help you achieve your goals.” He intensely watches my facial expression, and although I’m still shocked I’m honestly a bit touched that he cares so much to tell me this.

Alhaitham not only took the time to listen to my request when I approached the Akademiya’s Scribe in search of rare books, but he also trusted me enough to lend me these books, albeit very reluctantly at first.

I wonder how he can read me so well, and since he obviously knows more than he lets on, why did he lend me these books to begin with?

“Hey, Alhaitham?” He hums in acknowledgment and his hand prompts me to continue speaking. “Why did you lend me these books?” This time Alhaitham’s the one who looks taken aback.

His lips subtly form a small smirk before his expression quickly shifts back to one of neutrality, but I caught his shift in expression nonetheless. “Well, it’s not often you see a person with two visions. It’s not hard to infer one is a masterless vision while the other is your own. The real question lies in how did you acquire your visions, and which one is yours? My hypothesis is that you acquired the Anemo vision of your own accord, and the cryo vision is the one you obtained from someone else. I won’t pry for the details but surely there’s more to your story than meets the eye.” Once Alhaitham finishes his explanation he proceeds to pick up his book again and continue reading like his inferences weren’t spot on and scarily accurate.

I close my book shut and sit back in my seat. I close my eyes as I reflect on Alhaitham’s words. “It seems the true knowledge you seek lies within yourself, and you already have all the answers you need. Take some time to yourself to think about what it is you truly want. Scouring these books on knowledge you’ve already attained will not help you achieve your goals.”

I know he’s right, so instead of indulging in the knowledge that rests in the book before me I’ll take this time to really figure out what it is I want.

I have an inkling of a feeling I’ve had my answer from the very beginning.

So, why is it that I’m just realizing this now?

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I wait for the Traveler to arrive in Sumeru. It seems trouble follows wherever the traveler roams, and something’s telling me it won’t be long before they arrive.

I sigh as I stand up and stretch, taking in the beautiful rays of sunshine. I’ve taken time for myself, and I finally found the answer to Alhaitham’s question.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pursue what it is I want when an important person who’s a part of that plan is.. well, …I have no clue where they are. I’m hoping I’ll encounter him somewhere in Sumeru, but the odds are low. Maybe I should return to Snezhnaya and sneak my way around Fatui camps?

No, that’s a recipe for disaster. I groan and mess up my hair as I run my fingers through it.

Why are you always on my mind? Why am I driving myself crazy over you? I haven’t seen you in ages, and honestly I don’t know if you even feel the same.. or if..

My thoughts drift away as I catch sight of a tall figure in the distance. I gap at the sight of Dottore walking through the streets of Sumeru, near the Akademiya.

No, that can’t be right. Why would he be here right now?

I quickly hide myself and slowly sneak closer to the man; I want to make sure I’m not hallucinating and it’s really who I think it is. I’d rather hallucinate about any other man over Dottore, but a hallucination is preferable to the real… well.. things.

Once I’m closer and his blue lock of hair is only a few feet in front of me, I know with the pounding of my heart that the man before me is for sure Dottore, if not, one of his clones.

Then that could mean…

I survey the area with a newfound seed of hope. It’s a bit of a longshot, but thinking back to what he told me before..

I cover my mouth before an elated giggle can slip out, and I slowly move away from Dottore.

I remember the promise we made. Does he really expect to find me here, and for me to help him achieve godhood? I wonder if he even remembers the promise we made with each other that day…

With a solemn sigh I continue my trek to the Akademiya, being extra cautious to stay out of Dottore’s line of vision.

Well, until we meet again, I shall find solace in books and the hot men of Teyvat.

…Ignore that last bit.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

When I spot the traveler this time around I decide to tail them and watch over their journey in Sumeru from afar.

I’m not stalking them, but I need to follow them since I’m bound to learn valuable information on new developments in Sumeru if I remain nearby.

It’s not like I haven’t followed them briefly in various nations to obtain crucial information on recent developments. I was able to witness some of the events the traveler underwent, while others I’ve heard of through gossip among the locals.

As I follow the traveler I learn more about them, and I’m a bit impressed. Not enough to want to befriend them, but they’re definitely someone the Tsaritsa would want me to keep an eye on-

Ugh.

I shake my head to rid myself of the deplorable thought.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I wish I brought snacks, since this is getting good.

I eagerly follow the Traveler as they discover what the Sumeru scholars have done to the poor dendro Archon. I only follow them a few miles into the desert before I return to Sumeru since it’s too hot for me to handle.

I’ll bring myself up to speed when they return.

Once gossip of the Traveler’s return reaches my ears I’m quick to track down the Traveler, just in time to follow them into a domain.

Okay, this was not the plan.

I didn’t mean to follow them into an enclosed space since it raises my likelihood of getting caught, but I’m here now so..

I maintain an adequate distance from the traveler and stifle my laughter as they struggle to solve some of the puzzles within the domain.

My heart sinks as we continue to explore the domain, and Paimon’s booming voice from afar does nothing to soothe the rapid pace of my heart when I come to a realization.

I know where we are and what lies in this domain.

I glance around me at the scenery. Yup, I’ve been here before with Dottore and Scaramouche. I recall the time I insisted on tagging along with Scaramouche, before I left this domain to explore Sumeru on my own. What I witnessed here made me uncomfortable, so I welcomed the escape I was offered when Dottore told me he had plans needed to pursue in private with Scaramouche.

I fidget as a feeling of dread overwhelms my senses. This place never gave me good vibes. What if I have to witness that again and- wait.

Is this the place I’ll be able to see him again?

My questions are soon answered, and I’m glad I remain hidden through it all.

My heart breaks and a tear slides down my cheek at what Scaramouche has chosen to become.

I sigh and watch from far away as Traveler fights the “god” before me. I hope I can still help him once this is all over, although.. not in the way he probably meant.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I have a hard time finding Scaramouche after his “fall from godhood.” I wanted to run and catch him as he fell, but then I would give myself away.

So instead I grit my teeth and watch as the traveler didn’t even attempt to help him, which is understandable (he was being a bit of an ass), but still…

So it’s quite a shock when I stumble upon a short male clad in blue while I’m restocking my food supply. I almost don’t interact with the man since the man before me could easily be a manifestation of my yearning for Scaramouche, but when our eyes lock I know for certain that Scaramouche is the man standing before me.

My palms sweat and I pray my voice doesn’t crack.

“Hello there traveler! Would you like to-“ I don’t let him finish and ignore his oddly polite tone. I jump on him and embrace him tightly.

“Scaramouche!! I’ve missed you so much. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to see you again. So, what’s with the new look?” I almost reveal how I saw him back in Inazuma at the factory, but I keep my mouth shut since we’re in a moderately busy and public area. I know he’ll probably shove me off of him, annoyed that I’m hugging him, but I can’t help but give in to my desire to hug him after being apart for so long.

The man standing near the beautiful array of fruit for purchase chuckles. “Is this someone you know little guy?” The man turns towards Scaramouche and I, and I wait for Scaramouche to answer.

Except, his eyes meet mine and there’s no hint of recognition in them. I feel my blood run cold when he gives me a polite smile before he slowly peels me off of him. “I’m not sure who you’re referring to when you call me Scaramouche, but I’m sure it was an honest mistake on your end. I can help you find him. What does he look like? Where did you last see him?” I feel sweat gather upon my brow when he stands before me and denies having any sort of recollection of me.

Wait, the traveler. And everything that happened. Could it be that he has amnesia? Or does this have something to do with…

To test my tentative theory, I ask him a question he has to know the answer to if he truly is Scaramouche. “Do you remember what the weather was like the day we last saw each other?” The only response I get is an awkward cough from the man beside Scara as Scara awkwardly laughs away my inquiry. “Again, I’m not entirely sure what  you’re referring to. If it’ll help-“

I break off into a sprint as I run away from the man who can no longer recall my face. My eyes water and I angrily rub the droplets off my eyelashes before they can fall. I refuse to cry before I figure out what exactly is going on, and if this is a result of what I think it is then I may not be the only one whose memory was altered.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Sure enough, any memory of the man named Scaramouche has seemingly vanished. The only way I could really confirm this was by questioning the Fatui who were left behind. I disguised myself as best I could, making sure to hide my hair and face, before questioning them about the harbingers.

They were overly suspicious of me and immediately attacked me, as expected, so after a good beating they spilled the beans.

Thankfully Itto isn’t around.

To the lower ranked Fatui members, the Harbinger Scaramouche didn’t exist. I was tempted to bring up his name, but I didn’t want to cause any complications for myself or him in the future. So I released the Fatui members and immediately returned to the Akademiya to scour books.

Books on Irminsul, which I recall is the tree that holds all the information and memories of Teyvat. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Judging by the information from books, it is hypothetically possible to erase past events and memories from all people of Teyvat if Irminsul is tampered with.

If that’s the case, then I can still recall Scaramouche and Greater Lord Rukkdehvata…

I close my eyes and recall the many tidbits of knowledge the Tsaritsa has bestowed upon me, coupled with the knowledge of other harbingers and the books I’ve been scouring for the past couple of days.

Could it be that I’m…

I shake the thought away and return to the objective at hand. If the memories of Scaramouche were removed from Tevyat then it could potentially be restored under specific circumstances which are highly unlikely..

But this is Teyvat we’re talking about, and the traveler is involved. I recall the words a mysterious man once told me. “There are no coincidences in this world.” 

Alright, that settles it then.

With a start I spring from my seat, hearing a startled yelp from the blonde man sitting across from me. “Oh, I’m sorry!” I sheepishly apologize to the man. He shoots me an inquisitive look, but accepts my apology nonetheless. I try not to laugh at his annoyed expression when he spots someone walking in behind me. I don’t waste time in leaving, and I exchange brief hellos with Alhaitham on my way out.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Locating the traveler is a bit of a difficult task, but my previous experiences from my days with the Fatui come in handy. Unfortunately, I’m pretty good at recon and tracking people down. It’s even easier since the traveler is a well known individual.

When I finally spot the traveler from afar, they’re walking into a building, so I quickly follow them.

It’s a pain getting into the building without being spotted, so unfortunately I miss some information. When I notice the dendro Archon talking to the traveler, hope blossoms in my chest when Scara- … the man in blue is seen with them.

I sneak closer and have to close my eyes and strain to hear, and when I tune in I’m surprised by what I hear.

Scaramouche now refers to himself as Wanderer, and his “former” self, Scaramouche, attempted to erase his existence in hopes of changing past events in Inazuma.

Oh, Scaramouche..

I tune the others out for a moment as I mull over the information I gleamed. It’s hard to continue moving forward with your sins weighing upon your soul, and he must’ve truly felt that erasing his existence was the best outcome not only for others but for himself as well.

How heartbreaking.

I tune back into the conversation. The dendro Archon, Nahida, discusses how it’s possible for Wanderer to regain his memories. Once the Wanderer finally agrees to the plan they create, I silently leave the building. I could follow them and see his memories for myself, which is tempting, but I’d prefer to hear about his past from his own mouth. I’d rather not invade his privacy by seeing his past without his consent.

It’s funny, since in the past I probably wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

…

Aw well, it’s better this way.

I leave the premises and choose to aimlessly wander Sumeru as I wait for Scara to regain his memories.

I know I’ll eventually run into him again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I hug my knees to my chest as the breeze lifts my hair in the wind.

Scaramouche- no, Wanderer…

It’s been a few days since I saw that confused look in his eyes when I hugged him. I clutch the hem of my clothes as I curl in on myself further.

What if he still doesn’t remember me? What if he forgets his time as a harbinger?

I know the weight on his shoulders would be lessened if he did forget, but a selfish part of me hopes he remembers, solely so he won’t forget the time we spent together.

Wanderer, I hope you remember me.

My thoughts begin to spiral, and a familiar tightness constricts my throat.

I hate to feel like this in a place where anyone can see me, but my body freezes and I’m afraid I’ll trip over myself like a fool if I try to get up and leave.

My breaths come out faster and I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes of blocking out the dizzying lights.

Deep breaths.

The moment I take a deep breath, I feel someone’s presence nearby. I hope they keep walking and don’t ask questions since I need to focus on calming myself down.

I sense the person lower themselves to sit beside me, and they place a comforting hand on my back. The sensation of their hand running up and down my back helps calm me down, and soon my breaths even and my heart rate slows its rapid march.

“You imbecile.”

My body freezes yet again, but for a different reason this time.

My head shoots up from my knees and I swivel my head so fast I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash.

Next to me sits none other than Scaramouche, or well, Wanderer, and a frown is on his lips.

“How long has this been happening?” He asks. He stares me down, and I feel my heart beat a steady rhythm. His presence alone calms my racing heart. “Sca- Wanderer… I… Do you remember me?” I hate the way my voice cracks, and his face shows mild surprise.

“Of course I do. You still owe me you know. Come with me, I don’t have time to waste.” He stands, but he leans down to offer me his hand.

“Get up. The ground is no place for you to stay, you need to stand up.” His words offer me a strange sense of comfort, and I hesitantly take his hand.

“So, it seems you know more than I thought. You called me Wanderer instead of Scaramouche… tell me what you know.” With that, he begins walking. He slows when he sees I’m not following, and he turns around. “Are you coming?” “Do you want me to?” “Why wouldn’t I-“ “You forgot about me.” My emotional statement causes him to wince.

He lowers his hat to obscure his face as he looks down to the ground for a moment. When he looks up again, it’s into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I was being foolish at that time. I’m not one for promises, but I’ll promise you this; I’d never forget a human like you.” His words steal my breath away, and when I run into his arms this time his eyes shine with recognition.

“I missed you.” I whisper against his clothes. I hear the sharp intake of breath he takes at my words. He doesn’t return my hug, but I enjoy the comfort of his body against mine regardless.

I jump slightly when I feel a pair of arms wrap around me moments later. “You’re so…” His whisper is carried away in the wind, and I chuckle at his obvious loss for words.

I’m glad he can’t see my silly, lopsided smile.

I start giggling, full of glee. “What’s so funny?” He asks. I shiver when one of his hands brush across my lower back.

I rest my head against his shoulder, and I’m surprised by the unusual temperature of his body.

“Your body… is warm.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Oh, wow… I correctly deduced some parts of your story but others.. not so much. I still can’t believe the doctor did such a horrible thing. Well I do believe it but for a person to commit such a heinous act is so… wow, Dottore.” I clench my teeth as I utter that disgusting name. I hate that man with a burning passion, and hearing Wanderer’s story reminds me of a sweet girl I encountered in a village when I first entered Sumeru.

She helped me find my way to the Akademiya, but before I could leave she collapsed where she stood. She said it was normal for her and she was just exhausted, but I had a feeling there was more to the story so I stuck around and cared for her in the best way I could.

Turns out the fox person I originally ran from is named Tighnari, and he returned to the village to care for the collapsed girl named Collei. That’s how I learned of the cause of her exhaustion.

Since I have more information than the forest ranger, I quickly pieced everything together. I knew what really occurred with this sweet girl, and it pained me to know the doctor could inflict so much suffering on a child like her.

I’ve never despised a man so much. I’d go so far as to say hate, but no one, let alone him, deserves me putting that much energy into their irrelevant existence.

I sigh as my mind returns to the present. Dottore. This man has done so many horrible things to people and puppets alike. “I can’t stand that man. I’m sorry you’ve experienced so many traumatic events, but thankfully now you can take your life and your future into your own hands and grow as a person because of it. This doesn’t erase the wrongs you have committed, but that doesn’t mean you can’t grow and become someone better. I’m proud of you for how far you’ve come.” I flash him a smile, and his eyes widen as his mouth forms the cute shape of an ‘o.’

“Speaking of past events, I went on a journey of my own and I figured out what it is I’m truly searching for. Ever since I left you that day I didn’t know what direction I wanted to take for myself. I did some wandering- haha, pun intended, and a scribe of all people helped me come to a conclusion. Although, my father also played a major role in my journey. Anyway, I discovered that I…” My words trail off and I watch in awe when Wanderer averts his gaze.

He turned too late though.

“Wanderer, did I just see..?” “Shut up, moron. Continue. What did you discover?” Wanderer indiscreetly runs his hand across his eyes.

I decide to let him have his privacy and not pester him on the unshed tears I saw on his lashes.

I move a bit closer to him and offer a silent hand of comfort over his. I’m thankful he doesn’t move my hand away.

“Well, I discovered that what I really want is to find the truth of this world. But I also..” I tentatively glance in his direction, and I’m surprised by his focused gaze on me. He’s never been one to care for other’s affairs, yet he seems so invested in what I’m saying. The thought brings a silly smile to my face that I hope he dismisses.

“I also want to create genuine bonds with others and grow to be the best version of me that I can be.. and there’s a certain someone I’d like to have by my side..”  I fully turn towards Wanderer and squeeze his hand as I tell him, “I want to do this with you. I want to experience many days to come with you by my side, or well, me by your side as you probably prefer I phrase it. I.. I..” I nervously chuckle when his expression remains unreadable, but I won’t back down now!

“When I’m with you, my heart races and my palms get sweaty-“ “Trust me, I noticed.” He interrupts me dryly. I glare at him and he only smirks in silent reply. He nods to prompt me to continue, so I do.

“I.. You.. You may not feel the same way I do about you but-“ “Just get on with it and stop beating around the bush-“ “I love you, okay!? Gosh let me finish speaking before you interrupt me. Anyway-“ I freeze when I realize he provoked the answer out of me, and my face burns in embarrassment. I attempt to remove my hand from on top of his and make a break for it, but he predicts my movements.

His hand laces itself together with mine and he pulls me in so I fall against him. “Wanderer!” I shout in embarrassment. I close my eyes and hope his rejection isn’t too harsh.

Oh, who am I kidding. This is the former Sixth Fatui Harbinger we’re talking about.

I brace myself for rejection, and the silence is awfully loud. The thing that breaks the silence catches me off guard, and I can’t help but smile when his laughter cuts through the tense atmosphere.

His laughter is much cuter and lighthearted than I thought it would sound, and it soon ropes me in. We’re a bunch of giggling idiots sitting side by side on a bench, and passersby give us a mixture of sweet and curious glances.

Once our laughter slows to a stop, I wait with baited breath for his next words. “Oh, you fool. You’ve always been very perceptive, but never with the things that are most obvious.” Hey! He chooses to reject me with a roundabout insult!?

I quickly turn my head to scold him, but the words get caught in my throat as he chooses that moment to close the distance between us.

I’m surprised by how soft his lips feel gently pressed against mine.

It takes me a moment to process what’s happening, and once I do my already vibrant world bursts in an explosive array of bright colors as I realize the implications behind his actions. Before I can return the kiss he pulls away, and he smirks at my expression. “You dolt. Didn’t you just tell me you love me? Why didn’t you return my kiss?” Wanderer ‘tsks’ and begins to move away from me with that annoying smirk still on his lips. So, I do the only plausible thing that comes to mind.

I kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

P.S

When he kisses me back, it feels as if my heart is glowing.

I really am a lucky girl.

[tillytherandomfanficwriter]

I have totally not been meaning to post this for like, two months now, shhhhhh.

Anyways, I got a bingo on @feedthefandomfest's original bingo card! Been fun forcing myself to step out of my comfort zone, even if it's also been absolutely nerve-wracking. And it's even gotten me to be more confident in commenting on fics outside of the bingo! Once I get this one completed, definitely eyeing up the Old Fic bingo card (purely because I do not have the ability to keep track of two bingo cards at the same time, lmao).

Taking a page out of some other's books and making a little rec list of the fics I've commented on below the cut! Note that it won't be all of them cause 1) my memory is horrible, lol and 2) I wasn't keeping this list when I first started XD. Oh well, at least some fics will get some love!

"Towards the Rising Sun" by Potassium_Hypobromite A Shen/Zed fic set in post-WW2 Japan! Lots of angst, some lovely moments of Zed being Dad!Zed to Kayn, some interesting historical details and very little sugar coating of very real atrocities that happened during and after WW2, all set to the tune of two emotionally constipated men(/affectionate) trying to figure out their feelings for each other. Binge-read it in like, an hour and a half, 2 hours one afternoon and loved every moment of it.

Heads up, when I say 'very little sugar coating', I mean it. Japan did some seriously fucked up shit during WW2, and seriously fucked up shit was done to innocents, and this fic does address that (in a way that makes sense for the characters), so be warned if you decide to read it.

"algernon" by parsnipit A wonderful W.D Gaster fic in which said Daster Gaster accidentally creates a skeleton werewolf child (Sans), panics, starts figuring it out and getting a hang of the whole parenthood thing, then another very special boy (Papyrus) gets yeeted into the family kinda against Gaster's will but he isn't complaining. Also features some Grillster (these two take so damn long to get together and I blame Gaster for it, lmao). And really quick- omfg the motherfucking goddamn foreshadowing and setting up in this fic?? Just, like, AH! I won't spoil anything but like, hnnnagghaaa it's too goooooood.

Heed the tags! And the additional warnings in the author's notes! As good as this fic is, it does get quite heavy! Take care of yourselves people!

(A double here, since both were done by the same author. Have I talked about this series before on this blog? Yes. Do I care that I'm talking about it again? No. No, not at all.) "Spirit of a Guardian" and "Heart of a Dragon" by SilverlySilence (Both part of the "Heart of a Dragon's Soul" series by the same author) This. Series. This. Goddamn. Series When I say it 100%, completely and utterly, totally and without mercy RUINED ME, I am making a massive understatement. I was fucking DESTORYED when I finished reading this series (specifically Heart of a Dragon). When I say this is better than most published novels I have read, I AM NOT KIDDING. And it was done for free?? And it was all free?? *Screams* Basic summary, Jack gets yeeted into the past and ends up falling head over heels in love with Hiccup (same for Hiccup with Jack), but that's only like, 10% of it all cause so much of it is yummy, delicious, absolutely amazing foreshadowing, world-building, character friendship developing and so much more. My brain ceases to function when I read this series - you will laugh, you will cry, you will gasp, you will screech (I did this last one multiple times while reading it), just- read it. It's also more a action/adventure story with a romance side plot, especially in the first fic, so if that's more your style, give it a try! The last fic hasn't been updated in like 3 years? Maybe 4? But that's a-okay, life happens and it's all done for free so we shouldn't demand anything, and what we do have is good, delicious, nourishing food. (Side note, but Jack and Hiccup are just the epitome of a healthy couple in this?? Like, they're so understanding and respectful and caring of one another and also the trust they have in one another is so damn high and just- I am so normal about this series you have no idea)

"The Book of Rhaast" by KaynInfectedBrayn (CGotAnAccount) A very good fic about old god Rhaast meeting Kayn in a very not good situation. Very, very good.

There's a pretty intense amount of graphic violence, so be warned.

"Maces and Talons" by HijackSecrets and Kae_Viche Jumanji HiJack. That's- that's the best way to describe this fic, lol. Because that's what it was based on. It definitely deviates from the movie in a few ways but I'm happy with that. Loooove the subtle world-building in this, and it features some very good art!

"Claws and Calls" by HermesSerpent A very good Feral Hiccup AU, featuring overprotective brothers Viggo and Ryker! Honestly made me want more brotherly Hiccup, Viggo and Ryker fics, lol. Very good!

And that's all (That I can remember and find at least, lol)! When I get another bingo, I'll post again with an actually accurate list, lol. If I remember any more of the original fics I commented on, I'll also post them with the update!

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 18-- Coffin/Bat

Content warnings: typical vampire possessiveness and lots of talk of biting

Unknown has barely gotten back to Magenta after fleeing the apartment when he notices that you've been bombarding him with messages. He had to leave his phone in the intelligence room for this mission; it's too big and bulky for him to lug around in bat form. Now that he's transformed back, though, he can indulge in a bit of idle conversation.

MC: If you're really a vampire MC: Do you like MC: Sleep in a coffin?

Unknown rolls his eyes. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? He'd been about to bite you when Luciel had arrived to ward him off, brandishing a vial of holy water like it couldn't very well burn him, too. In retrospect, Unknown should have taken his chances and tipped the vial the other way, but it had been too much hassle over just some human— he had simply turned into a bat and flown away. He figured that in doing so, he would force Luciel to explain the particulars of their situation to you, and you would be so disgusted with the monster sharing your apartment that you'd beg Unknown to come and save you. At least the Mint Eye vampires don't toy with humans the way Luciel does, pretending to be normal and then presenting their fangs. Unknown, unlike that redhead, came in with his fangs already out, entirely prepared to show you his true colors and mark you as his own in one fell swoop.

Unknown: yes Unknown: so does your boyfriend MC: He's not my boyfriend MC: He won't even talk to me MC: And he says he's not gonna sleep MC: I’m really worried MC: Should I try to find a coffin for him?  MC: Would he be more comfortable?  MC: Is there like a coffin website that you order them from?

It's certainly not a testament to your wisdom that you're volunteering such sensitive information— but if vampire lore is what it takes to gain your trust, then so be it. All that Unknown needs to do is get you close enough to bite, and then all this will be over. At the apartment, you brushed your hair away, offering him your neck— trusting him, foolishly, and not even thinking about the how the RFA members might respond to such a betrayal. Luciel interrupted something that was none of his business, in keeping with the beastly nature that he tries so hard to hide. Vampires are possessive creatures, after all, and that redhead clearly sees both you and the apartment as his territory. 

Unknown: We don't have to sleep very often, prince(ss) Unknown: And he'll be watching you like a hawk from now on Unknown: In case I try to come back and claim you MC: You should have bitten me faster MC: And then we wouldn't have this problem Unknown: Careful with that attitude Unknown: You want me to save you, don't you? Unknown: So you should be respectful MC: Okay, listen here, bat boy

Unknown can't help but chuckle. It was one thing when you challenged him without knowing what he was, but now, it's clear you're well aware, so why are you playing around? You must really trust him, then. Good.

Unknown: Careful

He already knows very well that you’re not going to heed his warning, but he figures he may as well offer it anyway. After all, if you had any sense, you would stop challenging strange vampires and start thinking about your own self-preservation.

MC: I know Seven means well MC: But he won't let me out of his sight MC: And he moves so fast? Unknown: Mhm Unknown: I can move a lot faster MC: Not fast enough to bite me though MC: Lol Unknown: You'll be mine soon enough MC: Ok  MC: If you say so MC: Anyway  MC: Can you go out in the sun? MC: Seven isn't answering any of my vampire questions

Of course— that redhead is obviously ashamed of what he is. He wears a crucifix that can never touch his skin, a perpetual reminder of his guilt and an open denial of his vampire nature. Judging by your messages, he hasn’t even shown you his bat form yet, and probably never will. Luciel is playing at being human, though he’s doing a shit job of it, if he can’t even stop himself from moving at his natural speed. Unknown, on the other hand, has embraced his monstrosity. He doesn't care who knows what he's become: he’s a creature of the night, which means that he’s entitled to as much snarling, biting, and flying as he sees fit.

Unknown: And he never will Unknown: If you want answers, then you have to come to me

You leave him on read; from what Unknown can see on the security camera feed, you've been caught fraternizing with the enemy— Luciel is obviously lecturing you, and Unknown can see why. Vampires are possessive, after all, and no matter how much he denies his nature, Luciel is as much a vampire as Unknown is. V made sure of that, didn't he, when he took that redhead under his wing? After some consideration, Unknown elects to offer you a promise, though it's not a very romantic one:

Unknown: soon, prince(ss)

[shellxrls]

the comments under your new rafe fic .. rolling my eyes so hard like if u don’t like dark content don’t fucking read it. it’s really not hard at all 😭 they’re more hung up on it than anybody else is and they chose not to heed the warning!!! it’s so fucking boring like block and go on about your day nobody needs to hear your opinion u have your own blog to complain on all about it. don’t go harassing other people. sorry they made me mad but missed u and glad you’re back!!

you’re soo sweet thank you 💞💞.

honestly i’m so tired of having to repeat this conversation again bc i’ve been a dark content creator: i’ve written noncon multiple times before, i always tag things correctly, and this post wasn’t even written with the intent to be read sexually— i wrote it because it was cathartic and i think an important element of my rafe is that he’s a rlly bad fucking person.

also like… the ‘don’t write rape’ arguments are always so feeble.. i’m gonna write what i want i seriously dgaf LOL. we’re all strangers on the internet i rlly don’t owe it to anyone to explain why i choose to write this stuff either so they can stay mad 🙏🏼.

the only consideration i have is for those triggered but with that in mind the post was covered in warnings that should’ve been easy to see and use to scroll past.

[slickchickchocolatier]

has yn (yes yn) ever tried to dom hee? cuz ofc heethan is the more dominant one but still.....i think he would like "omg ure so cute" rightttt or maybe would he give it a shot ?? :)))))))))))))))

Oh love...hehehehehe you actually kind of literally defined the "Jealous" one shot. did you read that? bc if you havent, man you have some premonition talent that you should look into expanding.

I would say the closest that that's ever happened, was in "Jealous" drabble which is a side event that takes place during HHP arc.

Also, the closest that y/n got, which wasn't really establishing dominance, but she def was being defiant, it was during the fight that she and heethan had that Tiff caused....i cant remember what chapter but it was shortly after Tiff was introduced in hhp. And if you recall....she tapped into her Eden, who is kind of dom. she's like femme fatale, she doesn't necessarily care about whipping her man, she just wants to be establish as his equal, which she does......but once in a while, such as the fight between her and ethan....ahem....it was battle for dominance which ended in irony. lol

Y/n is the sweet and soft side that we all have. While her Eden is the dark and twisted or sexual side that we all have (or majority of us for those that sincerely dont have it...although i beg to differ...especially if you're on tumblr) but in some of the smaus, especially recent ones like "Find the Bastard!" or even "Tables have Turned" y/n is kind of coming out of her own sweet shell and she has spoken towards heethan with a commanding tone or even gave him a taste of his own medicine (aka "behind you") but it's all during like silly and goofy moments. I would say in all seriousness, if she had tried to pull something off, as much as she wants to or could be dominant, one of two things will happen:

1.) Heeseung, as soft and gentle he is, he aint no bitch. He will joke and goof and let you have your moments, but if it was during intercourse or like a fight or something, the man will try to give you the benefit of the doubt (bc he is the rational type) and will set the tone and give you a warning (verybal or non verbal) and remind you that he is your man.

But lets say you dont heed his warnings....

2.) here comes Ethan. yup. you poked the bear and now he's awake, and as we all know, Ethan is a hard dom. I would classify heeseung being a med dom (not really soft but not too hard either, just in between) but Ethan is 100000000000% a hard dom and will man handle you like a barbie doll. He loves you, and he loves HARD....teaching you a lesson is actually enjoyable for him bc that just gives him a reason to instill a little bit of pain with the lovemaking, which he likes bc my man has a pain kink and a breeding kink....hes kind of a masochist but not a very brutal way. he's all about pleasing and being pleased (when it comest to you, ever since you came into the picture, he absolutely has no, NO interest in others) which that was kind of always the case, but it's like 10 times worse since he has you now.

it's like....have you ever had a doll or something, like a piece of jewelry or something, and you like it and keep it because it looks so pretty. but then you come across a piece of jewelry that is way sparklier, its bigger, has better clarity in the gemstones, shiny, and just more beautiful than any other jewelry you have in your box.....that's kind of what he went through when he found you.

[asirensrage]

A Bet's a Bet - Kyojuro x Reader x Tengen oneshot

Title: A Bet's a Bet Rating: Explicit Fandom: Demon Slayer Pairing: Uzui Tengen x Female!Reader x Rengoku Kyojuro (side Kyojuro x Tengen) Warnings: Smut. Threesome. A bit ooc. Oral. Swearing. Sex. (Seriously. Heed the rating.) Unbeta’d.

Summary: Modern!AU. A night at Laser Tag goes from potential disaster to something incredible.

Notes: This is based on this post with @comatosebunny09. This turned out longer than I planned because the characters kept running away from me and doing their own thing. I was just along for the ride. This is also a little more detailed than usual (but it had to be because of the logistics of this). These men will be the death of me lol. Unbeta'd so please forgive any errors. As usual, undescribed/unnamed female reader. Enjoy and please lmk what you think!

Laser tag. Fucking laser tag. 

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Your friend pleads with you. 

“I don’t want to go play against a bunch of kids,” you say. It’s a lie. The truth is you have no desire to go on what you know is a set-up double date with her boyfriend and one of his friends. The same one you’ve already told her you’re not interested in. 

“Please! I promise I’ll never ask for anything ever again. Just come! Have some fun! I promise that there’s not even any kids there, it’s just adults. They’re running longer games now.” 

You stare at her dubiously but then she uses that same pleading look that you know has gotten her out of multiple speeding tickets. “Fine. This is the last time, got it?”

“I promise!” 

Somehow, you doubt that. 

You were right in the fact that it ended up being some fake double date that you didn’t agree to. Her boyfriend brought a friend, the same one you knew he would, and they gave you both some space to talk. Even when you didn’t want to. Thankfully, she was alright right in the fact that you weren’t surrounded by some kids. There were other adults playing. You caught a glimpse of the group that went in ahead of yours, catching sight of broad shoulders and bright hair.

Thankfully the place seems huge and it’s dark. As soon as you get in, you ditch your group. You’re not about to spend the next twenty minutes having the guy trail you while trying to convince you he’s good at this. 

You forgot how much fun laser tag is. You spend some time running and ducking for cover. You haven’t seen your friend but it’s only a matter of time. As soon as you find her, you’re taking them all out. As much as you can, at least. 

You step backwards as someone comes running and jump as you bump into someone. 

“Sorry about that!” they say. You turn and aim. 

You can barely make out his blond hair under the dark lights but he has an easy smile and isn’t aiming his gun at you. “No problem,” you say. 

“Might be fortunate,” he grins. His eyes glance down at the blue light that marks your vest. His was marked with red. “We’re unfortunately not on the same team but I won’t shoot.”

You frown slightly, confused. “Why not?” 

“Maybe I want to stay on your good side.”

You smile slightly at the flirtation. It wasn’t completely easy to tell with the way the lights changed and the noise of people yelling at each other. 

“I caught some of your movements. Are you looking for someone in particular?”

“Yeah, my friend.” You describe her quickly. “I’m going to make sure she loses. Badly.” His eyebrows raise at your tone and both of you duck as soon as you hear someone come close. “She roped me into coming and surprised me with a double date, with someone I already told her I wasn’t interested in.” 

“That’s not kind of her,” he says. 

“Nope. So she’s going down.” 

“Would you like help?” 

“You any good?”

“Allow me to show you.” 

Kyojuro, as he introduces himself, is fantastic. He moves with apparent ease through the arena, yanking you out of the way a couple of times and pulling you tight against his chest. He apologizes the first time but when you tell him it’s fine, he does not stop. The strength in the movements has you more flustered than you expected.  

You find the friend of the boyfriend and both of you shoot him before running for it. You’re still searching for your friend when someone suddenly appears before you. You shoot instantly.

“Good shot!”  

Kyojuro steps in front of you and you glance back to make sure you’re not being cornered. 

“Kyo!” The man in front of him says. “Found something interesting, have you?”

 “I might have!” Kyojuro steps to the side. “Allow me to introduce you,” he says, motioning towards you. “This is one of my friends, Tengen.” Tengen is huge. You can make out enough to tell that he’s tall and extremely built, but he doesn’t set off your instincts telling you you’re in danger. He grins at you, seemingly not upset at the fact that you shot him. 

“Think you can do it again?” 

“Maybe,” you say not giving any promises because he's not your main target but you couldn't resist.

“Of course, she can!” Kyojuro says. You smile at the confidence he has in you. 

“Then why don't we make a bet?” Tengen leans closer. “Winner take all. If I win with the top ranking, you come out for dinner with us.” He motions towards Kyojuro and himself. That would at least get you out of going to dinner with your friend. 

“And if I win?" you ask.

“You shoot me again, you can have anything you want.” 

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t know what you’d ask for but you could decide later. 

Tengen winks at both of you before he somehow disappears back into the shadows. You look around quickly, but you can’t see him anywhere. 

“How the hell did he do that?” 

“Don’t ask,” Kyojuro says. “Better not to know. Come on, let’s find your friend.” 

You both manage to find your friend and her boyfriend and stalk them, shooting them repeatedly and laughing when they’re unable to catch you. That’s thanks due to Kyojuro, but you have the feeling that Tengen is somehow helping you both. You never see him though and when the lights finally turn on, all of you are ushered out to the leaderboard. Standing at rank 1 with a new high score is Tengen. Of course, it is. 

You finally get a good look at Kyojuro. He’s tall and well-built, getting out of his vest with the ease of having done this before. He turns to help you. You try not to stare but his eyes are as vibrant as his hair and when he grins at you knowingly, your stomach flutters. You glance around to figure out which one Tengen is when you’re distracted as someone calls your name.

“There you are!” 

You turn to see your friend coming up to you, her boyfriend and your unwanted date following. 

“I thought we were supposed to do this together, but you ran off.” Your friend says, her gaze flickering to the man beside you. Kyojuro turned with you to face them but he’s quiet now, letting you choose how to respond. 

“Is the whole point of laser tag to not be seen?” You ask. “Besides, I made allies.”

“I can see that,” she says. “Are you ready to go?”

An arm settles itself over your shoulders before you can answer and you find yourself pulled slightly into a large body. You glance up, catching sight of white hair and ruby-coloured eyes that wink down at you. 

“I’m afraid we’re going to be stealing her,” the man holding you says. Tengen, you realize as you recognize the voice. 

“What?” Your friend looks alarmed, gaze going between the three of you as Kyojuro moves slightly closer. 

“My friend and yours made a bet,” Kyojuro says. “If Tengen made top rank, she would join us for dinner tonight.”

“Not only did I rank number one, but I broke a new record. Quite flashy, don’t you agree?” 

It takes a second for you to realize he’s talking to you. “Oh yeah, absolutely.” 

Your friend looks unimpressed at you but considering you didn’t want to be here in the first place and she surprised you into this faux double date, you’re not that bothered by it. 

“Sorry,” you say. “A bet’s a bet, right? Besides, we can have dinner another time.” You raise your eyebrows at her, daring her to protest. 

“We came here together,” she says slowly. “How will you get home?”

“We’ll drive her,” Tengen says. 

“We’ll make sure she gets home safely.” It sounds like a promise coming from Kyojuro. 

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her. “Don’t worry. I’ll text you, okay?”

She looks at you warily but nods. “Okay. Make sure you do.” She looks at the men on either side of you. “You better not hurt her or I swear to God…” 

“We won’t,” Kyojuro says. “Would you like to take a picture of us? Just in case.”

She looks as surprised at the offer as you are but she agrees. Kyojuro wraps an arm around your waist and smiles. You feel Tengen pose next to you but she takes what’s likely more than one picture. “Okay. If you murder her, I’ll find you.”

Tengen laughs. “Don’t worry, if she screams, it won’t be from murder.” 

You can see your friend’s boyfriend’s jaw drop at the blatant insinuation and your friend’s eyes widen before she grins at you. She moves forward and hugs you tightly before whispering, “Tell me everything tomorrow, okay?”

You laugh and wave her off, promising to contact her. You watch as they leave and Kyojuro slips away to say goodbye to their friends. Tengen doesn’t drop his arm since you haven’t shaken him off. Its weight is oddly comforting.

“You really didn’t want to go with them, did you?” Tengen asks. 

You look up at him. “No. I basically got tricked into a double date with her boyfriend's friend. It’s not the first time either and I already told her I wasn’t interested. Spending dinner with you two is a much more preferable choice, even if we did just meet.” 

He bends down slightly to get closer to you. “Well then, we’ll just have to make it worth your while, won’t we?” 

They take you to a restaurant that is within walking distance. The men walk on either side of you, drawing you into conversation and telling you about how they became friends. You can’t help but laugh as Tengen expresses the admiration he felt when he met Kyojuro, simply for how the man dealt with one of their abrasive friends Sanemi. You think you can see Kyojuro redden as Tengen teases but the conversation pauses as you reach the restaurant. It’s cute and busy. You don’t know how they manage it, but the men get you a booth. Once you agree, you find yourself encased between them again when you sit down. 

Despite the size of them and the way they seem to tower over you even sitting, you don’t feel diminished between them. They keep you engaged in conversation, asking questions about your life while sharing more about theirs. Kyojuro promises that his hair is completely natural and tells you it’s because his ancestors loved tempura. It makes you laugh. 

“You have a gorgeous laugh, angel,” Tengen says, leaning slightly so his lips are closer to your ear. 

“You think so?” You ask, turning slightly to grin at him. You’re still not entirely sure where their attraction was coming from, but you weren’t opposed to it. Especially since neither of them seemed bothered by the other. You wonder to yourself if they’ve done this before. 

“Definitely.” You see his eye glance down at your lips but before either of you can do more than look, the waitress comes back with your orders. 

“Here, try this.” 

You turn to Kyojuro who’s holding up a bite of his meal. He nods, moving it slightly closer but ultimately waiting for your response. You lean forward, meeting his eyes as you take a bite. He watches you carefully and you’re distracted from the weight of his stare by the taste of his meal. “Wow.”

“It’s delicious, right?” 

“It is!” You grin at him, gaze flicking down to his mouth before you meet his eyes again. Your breath hitches in your throat. He leans forward slowly, putting the utensil down. 

“May I kiss you?” he asks softly. 

You feel Tengen shift behind you. His chin rests slightly on your shoulder. “You should, angel,” Tengen says. “He’s a fantastic kisser.” Your mind goes blank slightly at the thought of how Tengen knows that but you nod. 

Kyojuro reaches over and touches your jaw slightly. Your eyes close as he gets close and his lips brush against yours gently. His kiss is soft at first, just testing the waters. Tengen pushes you slightly, pressing you closer to Kyojuro who opens his mouth and deepens the kiss. It’s easy to lose yourself in it, especially with the heat of Tengen at your back whose hand slides up your arm. 

When you break the kiss, you meet Kyojuro’s eyes. His pupils are blown wide and he grins at you. He darts forward, kissing you quickly again before he pulls back. “Like I said, delicious.” 

Tengen laughs behind you and you turn to face him better, wanting to make sure he wasn’t feeling left out. 

“Was I right?” he asks, nudging you slightly. 

“I might need some more convincing,” you tease, unwilling to give in that easily. 

Tengen just grins. “How about a comparison?” He bends down, capturing your lips with his. His palm is warm against the small of your back and you can feel Kyojuro’s thigh pressing against yours as Tengen takes control of the kiss. He kisses like he’s trying to get a rise out of you, as though he’s attempting to find out the exact way to make you moan against him. You break the kiss first, unwilling to forget where you are and end up embarrassing yourself. He looks at you like he knows. Tengen looks over your head at Kyojuro. “You were right, it’s delicious.”

Kyojuro laughs. 

Dinner ends with Tengen’s hand on your thigh, fingers curling on the inside, tapping out a beat in his mind that leaves you squirming slightly, wishing he went higher. You suspect that if you were in a skirt or dress, his hands would tease higher against your skin. Kyojuro keeps taking the chance to kiss you and winds his fingers between yours, holding your hand. They continue to check in, making sure that you’re comfortable with every action they take. You’re aware of some of the looks the three of you are getting, but both Tengen and Kyojuro don’t seem bothered by them and continue to distract you by asking questions and telling stories. 

“Come home with us?” Tengen asks after their refusal to let you chip in for dinner. The three of you are standing outside the restaurant. 

“You don’t have to,” Kyojuro says. “We can simply take you home, but we’ve enjoyed this and would like to continue. Only if you’re interested.” 

Tengen throws an arm over Kyojuro’s shoulders. “What do you say? Want to continue? See how flashy the night can get?” 

You look at the way they are completely at ease with each other, how there’s absolutely no pressure to say yes. Every single moment since you’ve met them, they’ve been careful to be mindful of what you want and ask if it was okay. You get the sense that if you said no, they’d stay true to their word and take you home with no hard feelings, numbers still exchanged. These men had made a shit situation a hell of a lot better and now were promising to make your night something to remember. 

You smile at them both. “Absolutely.” 

Kyojuro’s apartment is closest. 

You take Tengen’s car and Kyojuro sits in the back. Another step to make sure you feel comfortable, that you’re not just being carted off to one of their places. You text your friend on the way, telling her you’re going home with them. The encouragement your friend sends back makes you grin. You promise to check in with her later before locking your phone. 

“Everything alright?” Kyojuro asks, leaning forward between the seats. 

“Yeah,” you say, glancing between them both. “Have you two done this a lot?” You can’t help but ask. Especially with how comfortable they are with each other, with you kissing both of them. 

Tengen shrugs. “Kyo and I aren’t necessarily exclusive,” he says. “We both want more. There’s no shame in having more love to offer as long as everyone’s okay with it.”

“You are okay with it, aren’t you?” Kyojuro asks, sounding slightly hesitant. 

“I am,” you assure. “I just…I’ve never slept with two people at once. You might have to show me the ropes.”

“And here I thought we’d save the ropes for the next date,” Tengen says dryly.

You laugh. “The next date?”

“Sure,” he says. “We’ll just have to show you we’re worth it.”

“We like you,” Kyojuro grins at you. “Why wouldn’t we want to continue?”

“Maybe I’m terrible in bed?” you offer teasingly. 

Tengen glances at you. “We’re not.” 

They prove it too. 

Kyojuro’s apartment isn’t too large but it is instantly comforting with warm colours and tasteful decoration, even if it is a little sparse. Both men move through it with ease and Kyojuro offers you both a drink to help you get settled. The drink he hands you is unopened, and you sip at it before settling on the couch next to Tengen. 

Kyojuro settles in next to you and for a moment you bask in this strange sense of comfort and warmth between these two men. The two of them are talking, letting you take your time. You get the feeling that they’re just waiting until you let them know you’re ready for more. It’s so wholesome, especially considering they basically promised to fuck you senseless. You want to see if they live up to it. 

You lean forward, setting your drink down before you glance between them. Considering you’ve kissed Kyojuro the most so far, you turn towards Tengen.

He raises his eyebrows at you, smirking slightly as he waits. 

“Can I sit on you?” you ask, offering the same politeness that they’ve given you. Consent needs to be verbally enthusiastic after all. 

Tengen grins and nods, putting his drink down before he beckons you closer. His hands grip at your waist, helping lift you with ease. Your legs go to either side of his, allowing you to straddle him. You glance at Kyojuro who simply moves closer and watches. Tengen’s hand slips under your shirt, thumb stroking soft circles on the skin of the small of your back. “We’re not going to push you into anything, angel,” he says softly. “At least anything you don’t want.” 

“And if I want everything?” you ask, fiddling gently with his shirt. 

The hand not on your back tilts your face to look up at him. “Then ask.”

“I want you both,” you breathe, meeting his dark red eyes. “If you want me.”

“Of course we do,” Kyojuro says. “Since you bumped into me.”

“Since you shot me,” Tengen agrees. His hand slides to the back of your neck and he leans down to kiss you. If he kissed you with careful control in the restaurant, this was something else. It’s harder, more demanding and yet he seems to remember everything that made you hum against his lips. “Don’t hold back,” he whispers when he finally breaks the kiss, letting you breathe. 

“If it’s too much, let us know,” Kyojuro says before he leans forward and takes Tengen’s place. Kyojuro kisses hard, full of passion and desperation. He kisses you like he never wants to stop. You can’t help but whine when he pulls back. You rock forwards, feeling Tengen growing harder under you. 

“Now that’s a sight,” he says, eyes flickering between you two. “Beautiful.” 

Your breath hitches as he turns to Kyojuro and you suddenly witness them kiss. Whatever sight Tengen thought he saw with you and Kyojuro, it couldn’t come close to the sight of them. They kissed like they’ve done it a hundred times before and still couldn’t get enough of each other. You grind your hips lightly, searching for more friction and reach for Kyojuro’s hand. He grips your hand back, just as tight. 

Tengen’s hand presses harder against your back, helping to guide you in increasing your motions and he groans against Kyojuro’s mouth. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. 

Kyojuro laughs, pulling away to look at you. “Enjoying it?”

“You’re both just so pretty,” you admit. 

Tengen laughs. “Come now, you’re wearing too much.” His gaze darts to Kyojuro. “Both of you are.” 

It’s easy to give in. You grab the end of your shirt and drag it up over your head. You throw it to the side, completely unaware as both the men look at you. Their gazes are heated, Kyojuro’s tongue darting out to lick his lips. You think he does it unconsciously but your stomach flutters with pride and confidence at their expressions and you quickly take off your bra too. 

Tengen’s hand is large and warm, the calluses on his fingers and palm scrape against your skin as he drags his hand up your side. You shiver at the feeling, only to be distracted as Kyojuro kisses you again. 

It’s almost overwhelming. The strength of Tengen’s thighs under you, the feeling of his hands dancing a pattern you can’t focus on over your skin while Kyojuro sucks marks on your shoulder. Tengen kisses you again and you feel Kyojuro’s hand go from your thigh to his. 

“We need more space,” Tengen mutters. “Hold on, princess.” He lifts you, ignoring the sound you make at the loss of him until he places you in Kyojuro’s lap. Kyojuro, for his part, grins widely at you, pulling you closer before kissing you again. You dig your hands into his hair, kissing him back just as hard. 

“Bedroom,” Tengen says, offering a hand. Kyojuro hikes you closer before he stands, one arm under your ass. You wrap your legs around him but he doesn’t seem to struggle in the slightest in carrying you. Tengen leads you both down a hall. Or somewhere. You’re not entirely paying attention, too busy sucking your own mark into Kyojuro’s neck. His grip tightens against you. 

Kyojuro releases you, letting you gently fall against the bed. Tengen moves in, drawing you towards him as he kneels on the bed. You move to follow, pausing only to undo your pants once you notice he’s naked. You motion for him to wait as you lie back to shimmy out of them. He hooks a finger on the edge, helping you. Kyojuro grabs the ends, pulling them towards him. He’s already naked as well, taking the chance when you were distracted by Tengen. 

Your mouth goes dry as you take in their muscles. You knew they were strong but it’s different seeing them like this. “Wow.”

“I think we’re the ones who should be saying that,” Kyojuro says. “Don’t you agree, Tengen?”

“I’m lucky either way,” the other man admits. You turn back to him. He’s sitting back on his heels, watching you both. “Come here,” he beckons you closer like he did before. You move towards him, aware of the bed dipping behind you. Tengen pulls you into him, kissing you softly as his hands slide across your skin. They go up your thighs, following the dip of your hips and waist before cupping your breasts gently. “So pretty,” he murmurs. 

Kyojuro moves behind you, kissing the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You lean back against him, smiling at the warmth of the men that seeps into you. You move one of your hands over your shoulder, digging back into Kyojuro’s hair. He groans as you grip it, hands tightening at your waist. You drape your other one over Tengen’s shoulder, stroking the skin softly as his mouth lowers to encase one of your nipples. 

You lose yourself in the sensations the men cause. One of Kyojuro’s hands slips between your legs, pressing in and stroking gently. 

“So wet already,” he tells Tengen. He presses in further and you shift to give him more room. He finds your clit with surprising ease and you feel yourself arch into it. It helps push you closer to Tengen who is lavishing your chest with attention, gently biting and sucking hard to leave his mark. 

You groan when Kyojuro removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth. How are you supposed to survive this? Especially when he swipes them back between your legs before offering them to Tengen who takes them without hesitation. Kyojuro leans forward over you, kissing Tengen. The thought that they can both taste you on their lips is hotter than you ever realized it would be. Your hands move, mapping out the crevices and dips of their muscles, absent-mindedly wondering how you got this lucky. You don’t question it though, instead, once they stop kissing, you motion for them to give you some space. 

They both instantly apologize if they squished you.

“What a way to go,” you muse, smiling as they laugh. Tengen reaches over to pinch you and you jolt back, sticking out your tongue. 

“I want to taste you,” you say. You move closer, bending down slightly. You reach for Kyojuro, fingers wrapping around his cock and watching as his eyes flutter closed at the feeling. You lick at Tengen’s, using your other hand to hold him. It takes a bit to find a rhythm and neither man seems to mind as you go back and forth, taking your time to try to take in as much of each of them as you can. 

Tengen’s hand rests on the back of your neck, oddly comforting as you suck him. Kyojuro’s hand joins yours, stroking what bits you can’t reach. Tengen groans, praising you both for making him feel so good. “You take us so well, angel,” he tells you. 

Kyojuro is louder in his moans when you use your mouth, holding himself steady on Tengen as you lick and suck. These two powerful men crumble under your mouth. You’ve never felt so powerful, or so desirable with the way they look at you. 

“Please, sweet thing,” Kyojuro begs, “let me take care of you too.” 

He begs so prettily, and you think Tengen agrees with how he watches you both. You nod and Kyojuro motions for you to turn your attention back to the other man. You feel him move behind you as you go back to trying to take as much of Tengen’s cock in your mouth as you can. Kyojuro’s hands settle on your hips before he presses a warm palm to the small of your back, guiding you to rest on your hands as well as your knees. You lean back towards him automatically. 

You hum against Tengen as you feel Kyojuro’s fingers first. They press in, slowly stretching you as he adds one then two. 

“Fuck,” you hear Tengen. 

“She’s so tight,” Kyojuro says. “I don’t want to hurt her.” 

“You won’t,” Tengen replies. 

Kyojuro presses another finger in and you falter in your efforts, mouth releasing Tengen so you can gasp at the intrusion. It feels so good and yet not enough. 

“Please, please, please,” you beg. “More.”

“Well,” Tengen says. “You heard her.” 

You don’t look up at the sounds of someone’s fingers being sucked clean, already knowing what you’d find and take the chance to catch your breath. It doesn’t last long, not when you can feel Kyojuro finally press against you. It takes a second for him to angle himself properly before he’s pushing in and all you can do is moan at the feeling. 

Fingers tilt your head up and you look to see Tengen smiling down at you. “Alright?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

He bends down to kiss you and you can taste yourself on his lips. Kyojuro takes the chance to withdraw just enough before thrusting back. 

“Come on, princess,” Tengen says softly. “Think you can finish me off?” 

You don’t bother replying, instead taking his cock back in your mouth. You’ve never been this full. Not like this. The men easily find a rhythm, and you let yourself move with it. The room fills with the sounds and smells of sex, soft moans and groans as you all get closer. Tengen hits his release first, withdrawing and cumming across your back. That’s going to be hell to clean but the thought is lost when you feel Kyojuro’s pace quicken. Your arms collapse under you and you try to hold yourself up on your elbows. You think someone swipes at the display he left, someone else moaning with their mouth full. Then Tengen shifts, lying next to you and propping himself up on an elbow. He seems enraptured by the sight of you and Kyojuro. 

You are so close to the edge, to your release when Kyojuro stops. You nearly whine in frustration but it doesn’t last long. You’re flipped onto your back, resting next to Tengen still while Kyojuro slips back between your legs. 

Tengen kisses you as Kyojuro lifts your legs, resting them on his forearms before he thrusts forward again. Tengen’s hand slides down your chest, pausing to squeeze one of your breasts again before his fingers find their way between you and Kyojuro. He presses against your clit, moving in tandem with the man fucking you and you break. 

Tengen breaks the kiss, letting you cry out with your release as his mouth moves lower, They don’t stop though. Your orgasm extends with their movements and before you can even fully catch your breath, you tumble head-first into another. 

Someone swears. 

Kyojuro pulls out just in time to cum across your stomach and all three of you seem to pause, regaining your senses. Kyojuro collapses on the best next to you and for a moment, all you can do is laugh. 

Both men have enough energy to look at each other over you and you wave them off before they can question it.

“Sorry,” you say. “That was just…the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced.” 

“Told you it’d be flashy,” Tengen says, sounding as confident as ever. Not that it was a surprise. The man deserved it and could clearly back it up. You were going to be sore tomorrow. 

“You were right,” you agree. 

“Let’s clean you up,” he says. “I’ll run a bath.” 

“A bath?” All you wanted to do was clean up and sleep. 

“It’s big enough,” Kyojuro says. He sounds about as awake as you feel. “It’ll help so you won’t be sore later when we go again.”

“Again?” You glance between these men, wondering where they get the stamina. Tengen just laughs. 

“Of course. You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

everything taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

[heretic-altias]

FFXIVWrite Day 15 - Portentous

This feels more like a reflective ramble in Altais's brain than a proper story, but I think it counts lol. She is a woman of many mistakes, but this one might be the biggest.

Don’t know my characters? Here’s a basic breakdown to help you out!

~

An Au Ra’s scales could give them warnings for all sorts of things if one paid attention. Most people would only notice the ones related to health, dull scales typically meant poor nutrition and if they were dull and flaking off there was probably something seriously wrong.

But as Altais had discovered, they could also warn of aetheric corruption.

She should have heeded it when the scales along her right seem edged with a blue tint. But she had not. And now her aether was forever corrupted, and she was stuck with this primal that was a strange fusion of Bahamut and whatever had been going on in her head at the time.

This wasn’t even the first time her scales had shifted with aetheric corruption. On the First, they had started to slowly turn a brilliant white, somehow whiter looking than even a Raen’s naturally shining white scales. It had been a stark contrast against the usual black color, and alarmed her instantly. 

The scales on her arm had not been changed on quite that level now at least. They were still their usual dark color, but when they caught the light the lower edge of each scale seemed to have a blue shine to it. And it was only here on her lower right arm, the arm she held her weapon in. Perhaps that’s why it had been easy to ignore. Roll down a sleeve and it was like it wasn’t even there.

But why had she acted that way? She thought she’d had her pursuit of power in check, but she’d thrown everything she’d learned out the window to keep messing with a dangerous prototype that was clearly unsafe. Even using it in real battles. The first time had simply been because she hadn’t had time to change out the weapon’s core to the stable one that simply channeled fire. The fusion of summoning magicks into her gunblade had proven incredibly powerful put to the test. But also incredibly dangerous. The weapon’s core couldn’t handle all of Demi-Bahamut’s power and it had overflowed into Altais’s body. She had felt it.

And yet she’d kept going. And the corruption to her aether had built and built until it exploded. If Solar had not subdued the primal, it probably would have drained all of her life force and killed her.

Even now, having settled things so Bahamut didn’t actively try to take over that risk existed. She could call upon his power, but too much too fast and she would drop dead.

The cost had been far too high for the power she’d gained. And still, she had no idea what had driven her.

Did the corruption to her aether cause the primal to have an influence on her actions before it was even summoned? Or was it her own fear of weakness that led to madness? Perhaps both? Even those well versed in primals and summoning magicks weren’t entirely sure. The fervor with which she had pursued the project had been strange, and perhaps the primal’s influence had only made it worse.

She had at some point gotten greedy thinking she could use something that was fundamentally broken. Had she stepped back and reworked the concept it might have been salvageable. And she had already been torn into by both Cid and Stephanivien for that mistake. It was a mistake someone on her level of magitek engineering knowledge should not have made.

But for some gods forsaken reason, she had ignored every logical warning.

And she could blame the primal she was stuck with all she wanted, but the choice had still been hers. She was a strong willed person and blessed with the echo. The smallest influence couldn’t have nudged her unless to a degree she wanted to pursue it to begin with.

Altais wished she could understand what had been going through her head at that time. Akku had told her it seemed the incident with the light aether on the First had spooked her. And maybe it had. She had been utterly helpless as death and corruption crept up on her.

But did that scare her so much that she had chosen to welcome the same thing all over again?

At the very least, she had finally managed to communicate with this Bahamut so he wasn’t trying to actively take over and bring chaos anymore. For now, he was content to just encourage it whenever Altais herself wanted to burn something down. The original Bahamut had been an honorable wyrm, and Altais would just have to hope this primal’s honor would hold even so detached from the original dragon.

If nothing else, she had learned her lesson from this. She should have already known, but she had been put in her place by the power she’d toyed with firmly enough where she wouldn’t try it again. Now she would simply work on channeling the power the corruption she already had gave her, if she was stuck with this she was going to make it useful.

But never again would she be so utterly reckless in her pursuits.

[titaniumpsychologist]

Duality of Light // Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two (teaser? ish?)

I'd been so bogged down with work, research, and presentations this summer, and the semester is starting up again in the next few weeks? And two days ago a huge project was dumped on me for my research? After trying so hard to get this next chapter done? Aggghhh. I love what I'm doing, but I have no time for writing fanfic 😞

Because I feel bad that I haven't been able to put out a chapter for this fic on Ao3 for so long, I'm gonna share another snippet at least for those here on tumblr. Not yet edited (the chapter is looking to be 15k-16k before editing. RIP.) but I feel that these sections are closer to what I want to be in the Ao3-ready version that I intend to publish once I find time again to work on it.

FYI, even though this isn't the whole chapter, it's still a bit of a read (about 4000 words). So please don't freak out if you see the huge wall of text when clicking that "read more." Also, this obviously makes no sense if you haven't read the fic on Ao3, so here's the parts that come before it here lol (please heed the warnings and tags at the top of the fic): https://archiveofourown.org/works/37467820/chapters/93505051

Warnings, tags, and fic spoilers under the cut:

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson & Connor | Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed

Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) | Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson | Elijah Kamski

Tags (straight from Ao3): Enemies to Friends | Found Family | everyone is bad at feelings | Gavin Reed Redemption | Android Gavin Reed | Connor Deserves Happiness | Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings | Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human) | Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human) | Angst and Feels | Drama | Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human) | Tags May Change | Other Additional Tags to Be Added | Warnings May Change | Gavin Reed Being an Asshole | Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole | Canon-Typical Violence | Post-Canon | Reconciliation | Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human) | Elijah Kamski Being Elijah Kamski | like seriously Elijah why did you do this to my plot now I gotta deal with the consequences | The Author Regrets Everything | all the happy tags are endgame so buckle up for a long ride | It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better | Good Parent Hank Anderson | Implied/Referenced Suicide | Implied/Referenced Character Death | now with workskin | No Romance | sorry i can't write romance but if you see something if you squint i won't stop you lol | Grief/MourningIdentity | Case Fic | Angst with a Happy Ending | Connor Needs A Hug | Everyone Needs A Hug | Character Death? | Character Death | Betrayal | Dubious Morality

Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two

Irrelevant.

Possible lead?

Irrelevant.

Irrelevant.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant…

Another lead to follow, higher in priority. Connor made a side note to reference it later.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant.

Indeterminate, no leads.

He paused in his interface with his terminal, going over all the case files that the DPD had and seeing if there was a possible connection with them and their current case that involved the recent murders.

>> CR# 11762

>>> STATUS - CLOSED

Closed case. It might've not been related, however, there were several redacted notes that made it nearly incomprehensible and possibly even unimportant because it was considered a resolved report under normal police procedure. There was enough information in it that, knowing what he knew now, Connor had reason to believe that the people involved in this report was Reed and Stevens. Eyewitness report, but who was this eyewitness? Who were these people involved in their extraction?

And then there was a similar copy that was with the data that was seized from Kamski's property for their investigation. It was related to their case, beyond all reasonable doubt, but how can a report that detailed the events that started it all have so little to go on? He was so quick to label it as "indeterminate," too, because it didn't register as something important with a cursory parsing through the database.

He withdrew his hand from the interface. He should bring this up to Hank. Maybe this needed organic eyes to make sense of all of this.

However, when he turned to ask him something, he saw Hank fully engrossed in his own terminal and stacks and stacks of case files near to toppling off his desk, an intensity in his expression that he hadn't seen before. Lieutenant Anderson had a focus or… feeling around him that said to anyone watching that he was a man on a mission and nothing would stop him to accomplish it.

That was a feeling that Connor knew, and maybe even he missed, that feeling where he had no doubts to distract him, no layers and layers of emotions that he had to parse through first before redirecting his path towards accomplishing his mission.

No, he should stop thinking like that. This was better than being a machine. This, and all its troubles was better than going back to what he was before.

He dug into his pocket, taking care to avoid brushing his fingers against the storage drive and brought out his coin. There was a strange feeling—another glitch, maybe—when Connor held his quarter in his hand again. There were so many things that he didn't know about life, about humanity, about Hank, about Reed.

About himself.

Given that he was a prototype, other people didn't know much about him, either. Except Reed had a possible answer as to why he did a few things the way he did, like his quarter. He liked dogs, but why? He had his Zen garden in his mind palace, empty and fractured it may be right now, but why? Could they all be related? Could understanding the different choices behind the design of his basic programming help him fix all the errors he was experiencing in his software?

He wondered maybe it was mutual. Maybe he knew more about Reed than what Reed knew about himself. At the very least, he had the rest of Reed's fragmented programming sitting at the bottom of his pocket.

Referring to his directories holding all his references and cross-references with his experiences with emotions, he dredged aup a word for the strange feeling.

Dread.

He stood from his seat as he pulled up the building's map and navigated himself to the rooftop. Reed wasn't the only one who needed a change in scenery today.

[scene break]

Connor was wrong. He had to be.

"I think many people care about you, Detective Reed."

Gavin tapped impatiently at the side of his terminal input, waiting for the database to load all the information they had on their case. Damn, did they end up with a big one. His eyes glossed over the titles of some files, recognizing the naming system Elijah used. The information on the victims in the case updated with Chloe's information. Deactivated.

Dead.

He turned off the screen, keeping the process running, but not wanting to really see more of it yet.

Or ever.

Tina passed by his desk, pulling out a memorandum from Fowler and putting it on a stack of papers next to him. And he noticed a small scribble of her handwriting on one corner: "You're the baddest bitch in town."

A stupid motivational message as condescending as always.

Gavin felt a firm thud at the back of his chair as Chris went to get up, accidentally knocking his desk chair against Gavin's for the thousandth time and immediately trying to apologize and offering to get him a coffee from the break room to make up for the slight. For all he knew, with how much Chris had done it, he did it on purpose.

It was all routine. Even when Gavin had a literal life change and had to have a whole reclassification of his employment files, Chen and Miller still kept to routine. He should be mad at them. He should be angry that they weren't angry at the whole injustice that this all was. They worked alongside this lie for years. Shouldn't they also feel betrayed?

Shouldn't they all see what a fucked up mess this was?

Chris brought him his coffee, as promised, smiling at him before placing it Tina's handwriting on the memo and returning to his own desk.

Gavin took a peeved sip of the coffee.

People cared about him?

He skimmed the memo from Fowler, a notice that he was going to have to do a press meeting about how fucking slowly Anderson, Connor, and Gavin were making any kind of headway into their case because media finally noticed that Elijah was in the police station a bit too long. Almost as if he was being held for a crime.

The thought of having to somehow get him to answer to the fucked-up shit he did made him grip the page a lot tighter, nearly damaging a few pixels on the digital paper.

But then he saw Tina's words in looped cursive, a skill that was utterly useless, but she insisted on practicing her handwriting whenever she could because she felt she could at least leave a human touch on things in her own way.

"You're the baddest bitch in town," Gavin whispered, reading the words with a half-chuckle.

He sighed and turned the memo over. Scrubbed his eyes. He blindly reached for his coffee and took another sip. It was steaming hot but the pain didn't register, and damn, now that he thought about it, he wondered how we went on for so long never noticing that detail. He wondered if anyone had noticed his lack of reaction towards a burning hot liquid.

Someone must have.

Anyone.

Gavin stared down into the dark liquid of his cup, its surface catching the lights in the ceiling.

There was a mole in the DPD. They must've known.

Gavin turned his head slightly, watching Chris as he typed out a report. Could he have been the mole?

What about Tina? Could she have known? Were these condescending messages a hint toward something else? Or were they actually people that cared? Were they people without ulterior motives? Chris had a family to take care of. Tina had her sister and her mom to look out for. Both of them would have too much at stake to be playing at two sides. Were they people willing to sacrifice what they had for the sake of greed?

"How's Damian doing?" Gavin asked, spinning his chair around to face Chris.

"What—?" Chris stopped his typing and turned his own chair around. "Oh! Uh… He's doing good. Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Are you… okay?"

"Fuckin' peachy."

"Are you sure? Honest answer, please."

Gavin let out a short laugh. "Of fucking course not, but I'm managing."

"I'm… sorry to hear that." Chris scratched the back of his neck. "If… you wanna talk about it—"

"Why do you do it?" Gavin asked. "You and Tina. The notes. The coffee. Why?"

"Because it's a nice thing to do? Learning about what you're going through right now… We can't even imagine. We thought with how much is changing for you, you might appreciate if we kept a few things like they were before. At the end of the day, you're still our coworker, and we watch each other's backs."

"Right." Gavin sighed and shook his head. "Right. Of course."

"Is there a problem? That you're… okay with sharing, obviously."

"Nah, I'm good. That's a good answer."

"…okay?" Chris returned to working on his report. Gavin could see that Chris wasn't "okay" with the probing, but at least he seemed cool with leaving it at that for now. He mulled over Chris' answer.

They only did it to be nice.

Damn it. This case was getting into his head.

Okay, so maybe Connor had a point? People cared about him, or at least maybe Miller and Chen did. Maybe not in the way he'd want them to, but they did in their own way. Maybe in the way he needed them to.

Gavin snuck a quick glance over to where Connor sat at his desk from across the bullpen, his coworker in the middle of an interface with the terminal, LED still having one spot perpetually stuck on yellow.

And Connor said he cared.

After a few moments, Connor turned to Anderson and opened his mouth to say something, but his LED quickly flashed to red with that one dot of not-red. Connor really should get that light of his checked. Weren't those supposed to be indicators for what kind of processes were running in their heads?

Gavin couldn't imagine anyone having a glimpse of what was really going on in his head, how exposing it would be to not have that amount of privacy in the least.

Maybe that's why some androids chose to remove theirs.

But that posed the question of why Connor still had his.

Connor frowned, withdrawing his hand and stuffing it into his pocket, bringing out that coin he always had on him. He must've noticed that Gavin was watching him, since he inclined his head a bit in his direction before standing and leaving his desk.

Must've given up on telling Anderson what he wanted to say. The lieutenant was engrossed in the stacks of case files on his desk and was wholly unaware of Connor's leave.

Fucking Anderson. Even if he supposedly got his act together, he was still dropping the ball like he always did.

Gavin shook his head disapprovingly.

So maybe people cared about Gavin.

But how many cared about Connor? In the way they needed to?

Gavin pressed his hands against the top of his knees as he watched Connor take the door to the rooftop access stairs. Gavin debated whether he should follow him, pressing his hands firmer against the grain of his jeans enough to leave indents when he removed his palms to look at them. He caught a glimpse of his split knuckle as he did so.

…fuck it.

[scene break]

Going up here was a mistake.

Connor gripped the chainlink fence surrounding the half-walls of the rooftop as another… 

…preconstruction?

…memory?

Whatever it was, it assaulted his sensors, making it nearly impossible to focus on any other inputs he was trying to override it with. He was fine when he made his way up here. The malfunction triggered by seeing how high up he was.

Fighting. Blood spattering in crimson and sapphire. The mission to kill Markus. To kill these DPD officers. To kill Hank. All these people getting in the way of his main objective. This wasn't what he wanted to remember of what he used to be the days before the revolution.

What could've been.

But maybe he needed to. Maybe this was how he could keep from ever wanting to be a machine again.

If only Hank weren't so prominent in these malfunctions.

"Hey!" Reed called from suddenly too close behind him. How had he not noticed that he followed him up here? "What the fuck are you doing?"

Connor tried to speak, to exit the processes that were currently running this preconstruction, but he found that he couldn't. His grip on the fence tightened, rattling the metal as he trembled.

He couldn't let go.

He couldn't exit the nightmare program still running.

He was stuck.

And someone, worst of all Detective Reed, was watching him as he tried to pull his programming together and failing. No one was supposed to know. They didn't need to.

He felt his breaths quickening, too hot, his stress rising, stress-sensor still broken.

"Connor?" Reed asked him.

Connor tried to loosen his fingers, to at least hide how much he was shaking. Tried again to turn off the bombardment of fists and gunshots and dropping Hank from the building—no, Hank charging at him and falling—no, Hank shoving?—dropping?—him from the building.

Then it stopped.

He found that Reed had brought him away from the fence and closer to the rooftop access door.

"Shit, why the hell are you burning up?" Reed said under his breath.

Connor brushed off Reed's hands on him and he took off his jacket to try to cool down, his armband dropping onto the thin layer of snow on the roof. Reed stooped to pick it up, hesitated, then handed it to him.

"My stress was too high," Connor said. "Androids tend to overheat once stress reaches a certain point."

"Right. Right. The orientation. That uh… is a thing that happens. Right."

Connor could tell that Reed wanted to say something else, but instead looked away.

"You good now?" Reed said after a few moments.

"Yes. Why are you here?"

"Wanted to check on you. Y'know… 'cuz uh… you checked on me earlier. When I…" He rolled his wrist, circling his hands ambiguously in the air. Both of their gazes went to Reed's split knuckle on one of his fingers. He cleared this throat. "What was that?"

Connor draped his jacket in the crook of his elbow after replacing his band where it belonged around his arm. "It was nothing."

"Nah, not this again. You need to get this checked, whatever the fuck this is."

"I will," Connor said.

"You better," Reed said. "Because that was…" He exhaled, chewed a little bit on the inside of his lip. "That shit didn't look fun to experience."

"And how would you know?"

"I… get like that, kinda. Sometimes. Maybe it's different, being uh… different… android models but… Maybe not all that different, considering…" Another wrist roll. "All our shit."

He could see how carefully Reed tried to pick his words, as if he didn't know how to talk about whatever it was he was trying to get at. Both unable to bring themselves to talk about something so… unpleasant. There was a small rumble from deep in Connor's chest, and he couldn't help but pull the corners of his mouth upward.

Connor laughed.

"How the fuck could you be laughing right now?" Reed asked, half in his usual irritation, other half something… concerned?

"I don't know," Connor said in between fits. He started up again, this time with even more force. It wasn't until he realized that there was moisture running down his face. He brushed it away with his sleeve, and felt even more running down his chin, and he realized that he was crying.

Laughter morphed into sobbing.

"I don't know," Connor said, his vocal modulator stuttering. "I don't know, Detective Reed."

"Shit," Reed said. "Shit. Uh…" Running his hands through his hair, Reed shuffled his feet, and then: "I should get Anderson."

"No," Connor said, grabbing Reed by the elbow as he was about to leave. Why couldn't he stop crying? "He can't know."

He expected Reed to just ignore him and go on with getting Hank. Instead, Reed nodded. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Forget you saw anything."

Reed huffed out a breath and nodded. "Alright."

Reed wasn't putting up a fight about this?

"What?" Connor said.

"I'll forget this happened," Reed said. "Or pretend at least. As long as you tell me what the fuck is going on."

Connor looked down at his jacket and his shirt sleeves. The saline had frozen into small beads of frost, with more continuing to be added to it. And these were his new clothes, too.

He started sobbing again, not because of his clothes, but because of all the things he could be thinking of, he was concerned about something so trivial. Maybe his software was getting dangerously unstable.

"I'm scared," Connor said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me, and… I don't like where it's going." He swiped at his eyes, catching more of his tears with the cuff of his sleeve. "I don't think anyone can fix it."

"What is 'it', Connor?"

"I had an AI handler," Connor said. "I destroyed her after she took over my functions to try to assassinate Markus, and I damaged several parts of my software in the process."

Reed brushed the scar on his nose, not saying anything as he looked off into the distance. "Her…?"

There it was, that look again. Right before he gave Connor information about his fixation about his quarter.

"Can you describe this handler?" Reed asked.

"Her name was Amanda," Connor said. "I believe she was modeled after Kamski's former mentor, Amanda Stern."

Reed's hand dropped and formed into a fist. "Fuck. He did not. He did not fucking do that." He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. Continue. Why are you afraid of getting rid of her? Sounds like she was a real bitch if she tried to take control of you."

"She was… amicable at first." Connor said. "I thought I could've trusted her. She was a part of my programming, acting as a liaison between me and CyberLife but for her to take complete control was…"

Cold. Bracing against a harsh blast of chill, Amanda making him take aim at Markus, as he stumbled and crawled his way to the emergency exit. A gunshot rang in Amanda's triumph—

Reed shook his shoulder. "Hey, you're doing that thing again."

"Sorry." Connor moved his jacket to his other arm to use another sleeve to wipe the moisture from his eyes. "I'm not too pleased with the possibility that she's not completely gone. I don't want Hank to know, because he's aware of what she was capable of and what she tried to make me do, but I don't want him to worry about it."

"And what would 'it' be?"

"I don't want him to worry about—" Connor closed his eyes the moment he caught what his next words would be.

"About what? Her coming back? You losing control?"

Connor shook his head. Those were concerns of his, yes, but… it was more than that when it came to Hank. That wasn't what he was about to say.

Again, that unnamed emotion rose up to the top of his processes, error codes and all. That feeling—he hated it. But he could feel it start to corrupt the controls in his speech synthesizers, as if that feeling wanted a way to escape…

…and he didn't want to keep fighting it.

"I don't want him to worry about losing me. I don't want him to worry about me… dying."

Reed's expression softened. A little sadder. A little… lost.

[scene break]

Gavin had to step away, hearing Connor admit that; had to resist cupping his hands over his ears and shoving the memory away. Connor no longer had to say anything else to explain his situation, because that was something Gavin knew intimately.

His feet had stilled near the entryway of a hospital room, hovering near enough to the opening to overhear the whirring and beeps of machines helping to stave off the inevitable as his mother talked to Chloe before she went off to surgery. A surgery that would help take her pain away, but with complications that would take her away years later.

"It's not that, Chloe," Mom had said as Gavin eavesdropped on their conversation. He hadn't trusted that machine to be alone in the same room as her, especially not after witnessing the destruction Chloe created of that ST200. "I worry him enough. I don't want him to worry about losing me, but… you know how Gav is. He's stubborn enough to act like it doesn't bother him, but he's already lost his brother to his inventions. I don't want him to feel like he'll lose his mother the same way. You'll keep an eye on both of them for me, will you? You'll keep them from doing anything they might regret later?"

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises for the latter," Chloe had said. "But I can assure you that I will watch over them for you the best way I can."

"Good. That's good, Chloe. You're doing really well, I hope you know that." A long sigh. "I wish that Eli were here."

"He wasn't able to attend due to several business meetings today, but I can at least tell him for you later."

"I would like that. Thank you. Oh, and Chloe, before you go get Gavin." A pause. "Keep this for me. It's a gift."

Gavin shook out his hands, giving them a break from how much he was clenching and unclenching them. It was hard to believe those memories were not real.

And damn if he was going to just stand by seeing someone else feeling like his mom did that day and not do or say anything about it.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," Gavin said, shoving the memory back and trying to keep to the present with Connor. "I won't tell Anderson, like I promised, got it? I'll even pretend I didn't see anything up here, but there's a huge… something about this that you're not confronting. And believe me when I say I get it."

Connor's processing LED spun yellow—for good reason this time and not looking like a glitch. "Why are you doing this, Detective Reed? I find your change in demeanor surprising, if I'm honest."

Damn Connor for being so perceptive, even after experiencing a full-blown panic attack in the middle of a flashback—or whatever it was that Connor was experiencing. It was fucking disturbing to have to witness someone like Connor in the throes of what looked like a trauma response.

There was no fucking way Anderson of all people didn't notice something was up.

But he promised Connor he'd keep quiet just to get him to talk through it because, goddamn, was that not fun to watch.

So why was he doing this for him? Why was he willing to stick his neck out again for someone? Connor could end up being another Ray, or another Eli, or another Leah, or Mom, or Dad, or…

Or maybe he really wanted to believe that Connor was different. Maybe he was the exception to the rule.

Maybe Gavin was open to hoping again.

"Alright, I'll add another condition to forgetting this happened," Gavin said, holding up his index finger to emphasize. "You don't fucking say what I'm gonna say to anyone, got it?"

A small smile stretched across Connor's lips, and he nodded. "Of course, Detective."

"You weren't that bad of company for lunch, and I thought about what you said, earlier. About people caring, about you being one of them and maybe I wanted to return the favor. At least a little."

Connor's smile widened, same crooked way he did earlier. "I see. Thank you, Detective Reed."

"Remember what I said, Connor," Gavin said. "Tell anyone I said this, and I'll tell Anderson."

Connor laughed. It was a good laugh, not as strangled as it was before, which meant that Gavin was at least not completely fucking this up. A blue LED was also a good sign, too, but with Connor, that could be a false positive.

Gavin still couldn't quite shake the feeling that Connor was still hiding something. He wanted to ask, but… after what happened earlier?

Maybe it was nothing.

[yandere-sins]

Ok young-ish person here (I'm 20 soon)! From my experiences in the last years in school, drinking is very much common in the 10-13th classes....? Idk the english word anymore lol For reference, I don't drink cause alcohol is too bitter for my maybe too sweet tooth, I hate the smell of cigarettes, and my circle of friends are on the calmer side, so all my information is basically only from a I heard or seen nearby or coincidentally. I'm also slow on these things, so I'm pretty sure I missed a lot more juicy things.

While I suspect the party and drinking activities to be a weekend thing, I have seen at least one person bring vodka or so to school on a weekday (it was one of the fine arts course tho so there's that). Smoking seems to be acceptable rn? Nobody is ashamed or looked down upon, one time a teacher and student even smoked together during break times lol. The teachers in general seem to be quite chill or at least not too strictly against those activities as long as it's not working hours and in their presence (or at least it should be in secret). I have seen plenty of teenagers smoking in another school around afternoon, where the little ones are already gone and it's breaktime for the older ones.

On another note, I think the use of drugs is also common? I heard from another school that some where found in their school and there was a whole investigation going. In my school I'm pretty sure there are some who indulge in it but idk who or what. I was so close to accidentally consuming some cause apparently the brownies for the party in 10th class were "special brownies". Sad thing to put smth like that in brownies of all things 😭 I really wanted some. At least we had pizza. I think it's like an open secret to everyone. Like, alcohol, grugs and smoking is bad and you shouldn't do it! (Or in limits pls) But the teachers only warn us against it for protocol and whether we heed their advise or not is up to us. Until we cause a big incident, then not anymore.

Thanks for your insight!

Honestly, what you're saying makes sense considering how it was 10 years ago. But at the same time, for the drinking it still sounds about the same as it was back then. That someone went out of their way to sneak vodka into school, honestly that's an exception I'm pretty sure so I can't really take it seriously, that's just teenagers doing dumb stuff and testing their limits xD It's interesting though you mentioned the classes because the 10 year is about 16 and where people take their first exams, and 12-13 is already around age 18 where people get their higher education. I see a lot of stress-influence there.

But maybe there is more smoking and new drug habbits than in my time (which makes sense with the rise of consumers and lax parents). In my school time we did have like 3-4 older teens (17-18) who we knew consumed stuff (just blunts really) and it was incredible hard to get, so they wouldn't share anything. So yeah, I never actually had drugs. Would love to try it sometime, but knowing I have a habbit of addiction, I probably never will.

I still think kids are relatively reasonable in Germany, latest when they get older they start to grow out of it. And it's also more of an outgoing/cool kids thing still from your experience. Maybe they'd profit from more in-depth courses and explanation, but I can imagine it's hard enought to keep teenagers quiet in class, so it's probably not like they'd care about these type of lectures.

Still, thank you for sharing your experience!