#there are two Gavins inside of you

[nyxx-nth]

Oh no I just made a really toxic and awful alternate interpretation of Gavin to ship with Ghost and it’s so bad why am I like this…..

Oh nooo I made him so sadistic fuckkk what have I done to my poor ghost

This Gavin first was interested in him because of Jimmy but then he started to like Ghost himself cuz he thinks he is pathetic and he wants to ruin himmm :(( he wants to bring out the worst parts of him :((( he wants to cause him pain :((( but also be his only source of respite :((( he is awful :( I hate him >:(

I like my normal Gavin interpretation better 😭😭 he’s just a jaded asshole… he’s just a troubled man… this new Gavin sucks he is a garbage bastard evil man >:(((

[unstablerk800]

Nines, I heard Gavin was looking for you

Processing. 25%. 75%. Error.

"Gavin is never looking for me", Nines replied stiffly. "He's glad when I'm not near him. Yesterday, for instance, he said get lost 49 times."

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Oooh! A great Gavin Finney (Good Omens Director of Photography) interview with Helen Parkinson for the British Cinematographer! :)

HEAVEN SENT

Gifted a vast creative landscape from two of fantasy’s foremost authors to play with, Gavin Finney BSC reveals how he crafted the otherworldly visuals for Good Omens 2.  

It started with a letter from beyond the grave. Following fantasy maestro Sir Terry Pratchett’s untimely death in 2015, Neil Gaiman decided he wouldn’t adapt their co-authored 1990 novel, Good Omens, without his collaborator. That was, until he was presented with a posthumous missive from Pratchett asking him to do just that.  

For Gaiman, it was a request that proved impossible to decline: he brought Good Omens season one to the screen in 2019, a careful homage to its source material. His writing, complemented by some inspired casting – David Tennant plays the irrepressible demon Crowley, alongside Michael Sheen as angel-slash-bookseller Aziraphale – and award-nominated visuals from Gavin Finney BSC, proved a potent combination for Prime Video viewers.  

Aziraphale’s bookshop was a set design triumph.

Season two departs from the faithful literary adaptation of its predecessor, instead imagining what comes next for Crowley and Aziraphale. Its storyline is built off a conversation that Pratchett and Gaiman shared during a jetlagged stay in Seattle for the 1989 World Fantasy Convention. Gaiman remembers: “The idea was always that we would tell the story that Terry and I came up with in 1989 in Seattle, but that we would do that in our own time and in our own way. So, once Good Omens (S1) was done, all I knew was that I really, really wanted to tell the rest of the story.” 

Telling that story visually may sound daunting, but cinematographer Finney is no stranger to the wonderfully idiosyncratic world of Pratchett and co. As well as lensing Good Omens’ first outing, he’s also shot three other Pratchett stories – TV mini series  Hogfather  (2006), and TV mini-series The Colour of Magic (2008) and Going Postal (2010). 

He relishes how the authors provide a vast creative landscape for him to riff off. “The great thing about Pratchett and Gaiman is that there’s no limit to what you can do creatively – everything is up for grabs,” he muses. “When we did the first Pratchett films and the first Good Omens, you couldn’t start by saying, ‘Okay, what should this look like?’, because nothing looks like Pratchett’s world. So, you’re starting from scratch, with no references, and that starting point can be anything you want it to be.”  

Season two saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

From start to finish 

The sole DP on the six-episode season, Finney was pleased to team up again with returning director Douglas Mackinnon for the “immensely complicated” shoot, and the pair began eight weeks of prep in summer 2021. A big change was the production shifting the main soho set from Bovington airfield, near London, up to Edinburgh’s Pyramids Studio. Much of the action in Good Omens takes place on the Soho street that’s home to Aziraphale’s bookshop, which was built as an exterior set on the former airfield for season one. Season two, however, saw the introduction of inside-outside sets for key locations including the bookshop, record store and pub, to minimise reliance on green screen.  

Finney brought over many elements of his season one lensing, especially Mackinnon’s emphasis on keeping the camera moving, which involved lots of prep and testing. “We had a full-time Scorpio 45’ for the whole shoot (run by key grip Tim Critchell and his team), two Steadicam operators (A camera – Ed Clark and B camera Martin Newstead) all the way through, and in any one day we’d often go from Steadicam, to crane, to dolly and back again,” he says. “The camera is moving all the time, but it’s always driven by the story.” 

One key difference for season two, however, was the move to large-format visuals. Finney tested three large-format cameras and the winner was the Alexa LF (assisted by the Mini LF where conditions required), thanks to its look and flexibility.  

The minisodes were shot on Cooke anamorphics, giving Finney the ideal balance of anamorphic-style glares and characteristics without too much veiling flare.

A more complex decision was finding the right lenses for the job. “You hear about all these whizzy new lenses that are re-barrelled ancient Russian glass, but I needed at least two full sets for the main unit, then another set for the second unit, then maybe another set again for the VFX unit,” Finney explains. “If you only have one set of this exotic glass, it’s no good for the show.” 

He tested a vast array of lenses before settling on Zeiss Supremes, supplied by rental house Media Dog. These ticked all the boxes for the project: “They had a really nice look – they’re a modern design but not over sharp, which can look a bit electronic and a bit much, especially with faces. When you’re dealing with a lot of wigs and prosthetics, we didn’t want to go that sharp. The Supremes had a very nice colour palette and nice roll-off. They’re also much smaller than a lot of large-format glass, so that made it easy for Steadicam and remote cranes. They also provided additional metadata, which was very useful for the VFX department (VFX services were provided by Milk VFX).” 

The Supremes were paired with a selection of filters to characterise the show’s varied locations and characters. For example, Tiffen Bronze Glimmerglass were paired with bookshop scenes; Black Pro-Mist was used for Hell; and Black Diffusion FX for Crowley’s present-day storyline.  

Finney worked closely with the show’s DIT, Donald MacSween, and colourist, Gareth Spensley, to develop the look for the minisode.

Maximising minisodes 

Episodes two, three and four of season two each contain a ‘minisode’ – an extended flashback set in Biblical times, 1820s Edinburgh and wartime London respectively. “Douglas wanted the minisodes to have very strong identities and look as different from the present day as possible, so we’d instantly know we were in a minisode and not the present day,” Finney explains.  

One way to shape their distinctive look was through using Cooke anamorphic lenses. As Finney notes: “The Cookes had the right balance of controllable, anamorphic-style flares and characteristics without having so much veiling flare that they would be hard to use on green screens. They just struck the right balance of aesthetics, VFX requirements and availability.” The show adopted the anamorphic aspect ratio (2:39.1), an unusual move for a comedy, but one which offered them more interesting framing opportunities. 

Good Omens 2 was shot on the Alexa LF, paired with Zeiss Supremes for the present-day scenes.

The minisodes were also given various levels of film grain to set them apart from the present-day scenes. Finney first experimented with this with the show’s DIT Donald MacSween using the DaVinci Resolve plugin FilmConvert. Taking that as a starting point, the show’s colourist, Company 3’s Gareth Spensley, then crafted his own film emulation inspired by two-strip Technicolor. “There was a lot of testing in the grade to find the look for these minisodes, with different amounts of grain and different types of either Technicolor three-strip or two-strip,” Finney recalls. “Then we’d add grain and film weave on that, then on top we added film flares. In the Biblical scenes we added more dust and motes in the air.”  

Establishing the show’s lighting was a key part of Finney’s testing process, working closely with gaffer Scott Napier and drawing upon PKE Lighting’s inventory. Good Omens’ new Scottish location posed an initial challenge: as the studio was in an old warehouse rather than being purpose-built for filming, its ceilings weren’t as high as one would normally expect. This meant Finney and Napier had to work out a low-profile way of putting in a lot of fixtures. 

Inside Crowley’s treasured Bentley.

Their first task was to test various textiles, LED wash lights and different weight loadings, to establish what they were working with for the street exteriors. “We worked out that what was needed were 12 SkyPanels per 20’x20’ silk, so each one was a block of 20’x20’, then we scaled that up,” Finney recalls. “I wanted a very seamless sky, so I used full grid cloth which made it very, very smooth. That was important because we’ve got lots of cars constantly driving around the set and the sloped windscreens reflect the ceiling. So we had to have seamless textiles – PKE had to source around 12,000 feet of textiles so that we could put them together, so the reflections in the windscreens of the cars just showed white gridcloth rather than lots of stage lights. We then drove the car around the set to test it from different angles.”  

On the floor, they mostly worked with LEDs, providing huge energy and cost savings for the production. Astera’s Titan Tubes came in handy for a fun flashback scene with John Hamm’s character Gabriel. The DP remembers: “[Gabriel] was travelling down a 30-foot feather tunnel. We built a feather tunnel on the stage and wrapped it in a ring of Astera tubes, which were then programmed by dimmer op Jon Towler to animate, pulse and change different colours. Each part of Gabriel’s journey through his consciousness has a different colour to it.” 

Among the rigs built was a 20-strong Creamsource Vortex setup for the graveyard scene in the “Body Snatchers” minisode, shot in Stirling. “We took all the yokes off each light then put them on a custom-made aluminium rig so we could have them very close. We put them up on a big telehandler on a hill that gave me a soft mood light, which was very adjustable, windproof and rainproof.” 

Shooting on the VP stage for the birth of the universe scenes in episode one.

Sky’s the limit 

A lot of weather effects were done in camera – including lightning effects pulsed in that allowed both direct fork lightning and sheet lightning to spread down the streets. In the grade, colourist Spensley was also able to work his creative magic on the show’s skies. “Gareth is a very artistic colourist – he’s a genius at changing skies,” Finney says. “Often in the UK you get these very boring, flat skies, but he’s got a library of dramatic skies that you can drop in. That would usually be done by VFX, but he’s got the ability to do it in Baselight, so a flat sky suddenly becomes a glorious sunset.” 

Finney emphasises that the grade is a very involved process for a series like Good Omens, especially with its VFX-heavy nature. “This means VFX sequences often need extra work when it comes back into the timeline,” says the DP. “So, we often add camera movement or camera shake to crank the image up a bit. Having a colourist like Gareth is central to a big show like Good Omens, to bring all the different visual elements together and to make it seamless. It’s quite a long grade process but it’s worth its weight in gold.” 

Shooting in the VR cube for the blitz scenes .

Finney took advantage of virtual production (VP) technology for the driving scenes in Crowley’s classic Bentley. The volume was built on their Scottish set: a 4x7m cube with a roof that could go up and down on motorised winches as needed. “We pulled the cars in and out on skates – they went up on little jacks, which you could then rotate and move the car around within the volume,” he explains. “We had two floating screens that we could move around to fill in and use as additional source lighting. Then we had generated plates – either CGI or real location plates –projected 360º around the car. Sometimes we used the volume in-camera but if we needed to do more work downstream; we’d use a green screen frustum.” Universal Pixels collaborated with Finney to supply in-camera VFX expertise, crew and technical equipment for the in-vehicle driving sequences and rear projection for the crucial car shots. 

John Hamm was suspended in the middle of this lighting rig and superimposed into the feather tunnel.

Interestingly, while shooting at a VP stage in Leith, the team also used the volume as a huge, animated light source in its own right – a new technique for Finney. “We had the camera pointing away from [the volume] so the screen provided this massive, IMAX-sized light effect for the actors. We had a simple animation of the expanding universe projected onto the screen so the actors could actually see it, and it gave me the animated light back on the actors.”  

Bringing such esteemed authors’ imaginations to the screen is no small task, but Finney was proud to helped bring Crowley and Aziraphale’s adventures to life once again. He adds: “What’s nice about Good Omens, especially when there’s so much bad news in the world, is that it’s a good news show. It’s a very funny show. It’s also about good and evil, love and doing the right thing, people getting together irrespective of backgrounds. It’s a hopeful message, and I think that that’s what we all need.” 

Finney is no stranger to the idiosyncratic world of Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

[trulyumai]

Fall Baking

pairing: eddie munson / gf! reader

synopsis: it was finally fall. more rain, more sweaters. this also meant the return of the infamous, ‘Hawkins Fair.’ eddie could care less about it really, but you were ecstatic.

warnings: none, fluff only!

A/N: im baking like crazy right now so this automatically came to my head. I’m ready to drown in pumpkin bread and warm coffee.

Eddie knew you loved the fall.

When the leafs started to turn, the weather getting colder and sbittier than normal, yeah, that was when that thing happened to your eyes.

They’d get all shiny and well, cute.

He was the opposite. He could do without the hindrance of rain bearing against him anytime he wanted to take out the trash or walk to the corner store.

But seeing you so happy about little sprinkles of condensation made the man weak.

So he detested the cold weather a little less for you.

And you know what the cold weather brought?

Fall excursions.

Aka: The Fair.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!” Slamming your lunch down on the table, your body molded against his in one solid motion.

Eddie grunted out in surprise, but it didn’t stop you from talking about the surprise you had in store.

“The fair is coming back!”

Only stares were given, Gaven looked over at Jeff who was returning the same empty, confused look.

Eddie jumped in with a clearing of his throat, being the best boyfriend ever he had to save the day, right?

“No way, baby!”

“Way!” You giggled, relaxing into Eddies hold as you dug out the celery sticks in your little box.

“And, the school is accepting student stalls, that’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Why is that fun— ow!” With a harsh kick to Gavin’s knee, Eddie changed the subject.

“That’s cool babe, you could do a baking themed one. Your treats are to dieeeee for.”

“Oh yeah! Been a while since I got the iconic Mrs. Munson brownies,” Gavin sighed out. Already imagining the pillowy, chocolaty goodness that was always oozing with warmth.

“That’s not what I named them.” You laughed, “Buuuut if you boys help me out with the stall I promise to bake one thing if your choosing!”

This garnered the attention of the hellfire club fast. Eddie was almost jealous at how entranced you got everyone.

“Anything?”

“Can you do cakes?”

“Ooooh the brownieees!” Almost everyone talked over one another, already fantasizing about the treats they’ll ask for.

“Uhhhh babe?” Eddies rings were cold against your thighs, your dark green skirt rid up against the tops of his legs, showcasing your pretty and soft skin.

“Mhm?” You replied, already turning towards your wild haired boyfriend.

“And what do I get? I mean I love your baking, obviously! but I can get that anytime.”

That was… true.

Damn it you thought you had everyone sinched into the plan. But of course Eddie would try to sneak something else into play.

“Well ummm,” he stumped you this time.

Furrowing your brows, you bit lightly on the inside of your cheek. Thoroughly searching your brain for anything Eddie might approve of.

Clothes? No, Eddie only wore his favorite staples anyway. Maybe you could offer to clean his room? No, you just did that last weekend when he was too busy snoring on the couch.

Think, think!��

“I knooow what I want.”

You knew that tone. That deep drawl that makes his voice come out in a low, teasing hush.

Eddie indicated you closer with just a wag of his index finger.

You felt the weight of his breath hit the side of your face, warm and light.

“I want,” he breathed in this time, dragging his lips closer and closer until they brushed against the side of your jaw.

“You, to spend the night, every nite this week.”

“Eddie!” Rolling your orbs you pushed his face away. “That’s kinda impossible. You know how my parents are—“

“Pretty please, sweetheart? It’s been forever!”

“I just spent the night on saturday!”

“That was literally forever ago.”

“Eddie.” Your fingers brushed with his temple, lightly pushing against them.

“That was two days ago.”

He only shook his head in rebuttal, moving his legs until your frame was once again close to his.

“My point still stands. Forever ago! And you need my help, who will keep these idiots in check?”

“Hey!” A few club mates responded back, but quickly went into their own baking conversations.

“Not all week. Two days,”

“Three!” Eddie challenged. With a mocking squint to your eyes you huffed out a breath.

“Fine! You win. Three days.”

“Yes!” Eddie cheered, smothering a sloppy kiss on your cheek and raised a hand to high five Gavin.

What a dork.

“You won’t regret this baby. I just got new snacks, cleaned my room—“

“You cleaned your room?”

Eddie cleared his throat and his long fingers came up to play with the loose hair around your neck.

“Well.. no, but it’s still clean from when you did it— ouch!”

Grabbing the man’s soft cheek, you began to pull.

“Hey hey, easy easy, I was just joking!—“

“Sooooo funny, Eddie.” Laughing, you watched as his fingers came up to the pinched spot, rubbing it with a soft tenderness like you had plucked the skin right off his face.

Grabbing at your celery you joined into the groups conversation. Trying to remember each and every goodie the gang wanted you to bake.

This is gonna be a long week.

But at least it’s fall, right?

….

Right..?

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 005 (PART 1)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[7.3k] Early morning arrests and break ups, one member of the pogues goes rogue and gets into a world of trouble.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, forced drug use, abduction, mentions of physical violence, mention of non-con/sexual assault, disorientation

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ Good doesn't come without bad :/ I'M SORRY also THIS CHAPTER IS SM BETTER W THE SONG TRUST ME

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“BETWEEN YESTERDAY AFTERNOON AND EARLY THIS MORNING, OUR KILDARE COUNTY POLICE DEPARTMENT CARRIED OUT SEVERAL ARRESTS IN THE MURDER CASES OF SUSAN PETERKIN, GAVIN BARNSTEAD, BIG JOHN ROUTLEDGE, AND OWEN CARTER.” Shoupe’s voice traveled from the small speaker of your phone. You were watching the local news — you, JJ, John B, Pope, and Kiara all sitting out on the pier behind The Chateau. It was still early, the sun just settling in the sky, providing a comforting warmth over the five of you.

JJ was laid outstretched on on the boat, head buried in his arms while Pope stood with his hands in his pockets. Kiara was kicking her feet, sitting on the wood of the dock as you and JB stood side by side, eyes glued to the phone screen as Shoupe continued giving his statement. “...The individuals in custody are our department pathologist Mark Daniels, officer Shane Graves, local attorney Rebecca Reyes, and Rafe Cameron.” Shoupe explained, swallowing harshly. “Unfortunately, our prime suspect, Ward Cameron was the victim of an explosion late yesterday afternoon. The other trials will take place in the following weeks, more updates are to come. Thank you for your time.” And then he was walking away from the podium swiftly, head down as chatter erupted and cameras flashed, the program cutting back to it’s anchor.

You sighed, powering off the phone and sliding it into your back pocket. 

“...He deserved it, right?” JJ asked, lifting his head from his arms and squinting his eyes from the harsh sun.

“Of course he deserved it.” Pope added, sitting down on the boat.”I’ve just...never seen anyone blow themselves up like that.”

“Cross that one off the bucket list.” The blonde shrugged, laying his head back down.

“Dude.” Pope said sternly, shooting JJ a look of warning as Kiara rounded the dock and sat herself next to John B who’d taken a seat inside.

Planting a gentle hand on his back, she spoke to him softly. “Are you okay?”

John B fiddled with his fingers in his lap, biting his lip. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

POPE WALKED IN JUST AS YOU’D SLIPPED YOUR OTHER SHOE ON AND STOOD FROM THE SOFA, the boy stopping in his tracks.

“Where are you going?” He asked casually, resuming his slow steps plopping himself down on the sofa.

“Hopefully to get my dog back.” You said, patting your pockets to make sure you had everything. With the announcement of Rafe's arrest, you figured it was as good a time as any.

“...And you were just going to leave without telling anyone?” He asked, sitting up straighter, becoming increasingly more concerned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think JJ would agree with it either-”

“What does he have to do with anything?” You cut him off, your eyebrows set into a straight line.

“C’mon,” Pope sassed, standing from the couch. “It’s literally so obvious. It’s been obvious.” He said cooly. “Like, everyone knew he liked you before but now it’s clear you two have something going on. And you know how he is. He cares about you. A lot. You don’t wanna make him worry, do you?”

You wanted to tell him so badly. You felt like he needed to know why JJ wasn’t a priority right now. But you knew doing it would break Pope’s heart. Pope was in love with Kiara. And he deserved to know the truth, but you telling him out of spite wasn’t the best way to go through it.

“...Look, Pope.” You sighed, letting your shoulders fall. “Me and JJ aren’t on the best terms right now and I don’t want to be around him and I definitely don’t want his help. I know what I’m doing.” You assured, looking the boy in his eyes. “Okay? I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He seemed to sway on his feet, fighting with what to do in his head. “At least let me come with you. You can’t go alone-”

You immediately shook your head, putting your hands in front of you. “No, no. I don’t want you anywhere near Barry or Rafe without at least an army behind you.”

“But what about you?”

“...I’ve dealt with them before.” You affirmed, tensing your jaw.

Pope sighed in defeat, running a hand down his face. “Well, Rafe’s in jail but I doubt he’ll be in there long before he’s bailed out so you should be up against just Barry.” He pondered, turning to you and squinting his eyes. “...Fine. But if I call or text and I don’t get an answer, I’m telling JJ and everyone else. Deal?” He held out his hand.

The amount of care Pope had for your safety was sweet. So sweet it put a small, sheepish smile on your face. Connecting your hand with his, you shook it. “Deal.”

YOU SLOWED IN YOUR STEPS SOME FEET AWAY FROM THE SECLUDED TRAILER, wanting to minimize the chances of Barry seeing or hearing you before you even got to the door. The closer you got, the worse it smelled. You’d almost forgotten how the stench of weed and bonfire smoke stung your nostrils. Or how the overgrown grass scratched at your exposed legs, irritating the skin.

Your eyes immediately spotted a singular, metallic dog bowl — the inside smeared with what looked like canned meat. You felt sorrow and relief all at once. On the bright side, at least Marley was here. Or here at some point.

“Lookin’ for that mutt?” A familiar raspy voice sounded out. You whipped your head to the side to find Barry standing the doorway of his trailer. He startled you for a moment but the fear quickly diminished. After all, Barry rarely ever left the comfort of his trailer. He was dressed in a dirty wifebeater and shorts, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Where is she?” You asked, a hard expression on your face.

He simply drew his lips into a thin line, his eyebrows raising as he shrugged carelessly. “I ain’t got a damn clue.” He chuckled, shifting his weight against the frame and licking his lips. “Why don’t you ask Country Club?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “He’s in a cell. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Not alone, anyway.” You explained. “What, you don’t watch the news or something? Figured you’d keep tabs on your partner in crime.”

Barry just stood there smiling. Smiling weirdly. It made your stomach turn. You were never scared of Barry but he never failed to give you the creeps. “Trust me, I keep tabs.” He chuckled, strutting down the small staircase that led up to the door of his trailer. “You shoulda kept your ass away from here, Snoozie.” He told you, waving a finger in your direction, a mischievous expression on his face.

���...What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, pinching your eyebrows together.

“It means…whatever happens now is on you.” He smiled when suddenly, you felt two hands wrap around you and pull you into a body. One arm was on your neck, right under your chin as the other held your torso against the assailants. You could hear breathing in your ear — somewhere between heaving and chuckling as your body froze before trying to fight the person off to no avail.

“Hey, calm down,” You knew that voice.

It was the voice of someone who wasn’t supposed to be here.

“...Get off of me.” You warned, but it came out as more of a weak whisper.

You didn’t think you were afraid of Rafe anymore. But the feeling of his hands on your body, the force he was using to hold you in place, his warm breath against your neck — it all made you feel disgusting.

It made you feel like you were in the back of his truck all over again.

“Yeahhh…I can’t do that.” He laughed, walking you closer to Barry, his grip never loosening. “We’ll let you and your annoying ass dog go but, see, you walked into our domain? Alright, so…that means, we get to have our fun with you, first.” He whispered into your ear.

You watched helplessly as Barry pulled a plastic bag filled with a white, powdery substance from his pocket — scooping a decent amount onto the tip of his pinky before walking closer to you. "This for you and your friends stealin' my fuckin' money."

You began to dry heave, frantically shaking your head from side to side as he lifted the drugs to your nose. You jerked and jumped in Rafe’s hold, trying to do anything to get him to either let you go and disable Barry from drugging you.

“Hold her head still, Rafe.”

“Alright…” The Cameron boy groaned, carefully maneuvering the arm on your neck so that he quickly grasp your jaw, the strong hold causing an immediate ache as he held your head in place. 

“There we go…” Barry drawled on, shoving his pinky so far up your nose that it hurt, triggering you to cough vehemently but ultimately sniff the substance. “Aight, she should be out soon. Take her inside, my neighbors are nosy as shit...”

Rafe released your jaw as you coughed. Your whole chest hurt and your nostrils stung and tingled, the sensation traveling from the bridge of your nose and to your brain — the feeling somewhere in between a migraine and a brain freeze. When your coughing died down, your head began to feel light. As light as a feather on your shoulders. 

Their voices became inaudible in your ears, fading in and out. You tried to fight Rafe once more but you couldn’t feel your arms, or your legs for that matter.

The last thing you remember before the trees turned to blobs was Rafe carrying your body inside the trailer.

WHEN YOU OPENED YOUR EYES AGAIN, you didn’t know how much time had gone by. Minutes, hours…

Everything felt so heavy. Your eyelids were half close as that was as high as you could hold them. Your head rolled on your shoulders, gently swaying from side to side because holding it straight didn’t seem to be in your list of capabilities at the moment. Your lips felt permanently parted, not enough muscle strength to push them together and keep them there.

Looking around slowly, everything had a trail behind it. Everytime you turned, the object in your vision would leave behind a trail, like smeared paint. You didn't even know where you were, in all honesty. The kitchen? You looked up, letting your eyes settle before you realized what you were looking at — your hands. They were tied to a pole. A rack, of sorts.

You couldn’t even feel it. You tugged and tugged, at least you thought you were. But it didn’t look like your hands were moving.

“You awake now?” A voice echoed in your ears. You lowered your gaze to a find a figure in front of you.

Rafe, you concluded once your vision settled. 

You swallowed and you could feel that, a little bit too much. It felt like you were swallowing rocks. What did Barry give you? “...Can you untie me?” You spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said, his voice sounding weird in your ears. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours. He looked so much scarier. “...What was that? You’re mumbling, sunshine.”

You swallowed again, the action causing you to blink harshly - the smear of colors hurting you vision when you opened your eyes again. “...Can you untie me?” You mumbled once more, but you didn’t know you were mumbling. In your ears, you could hear your voice so clear. It was so loud and it echoed, like yelling down an empty hall — every sounded bounced off the walls.

Rafe just stared at you. It looked like he was thinking before he shrugged lightly, shifting closer to you and reaching above your head where your hands were bound. “You’re too weak to go anywhere anyway…can’t do anything…might as well.”

You felt your arms float to the floor as Rafe held the rope in his hands, examining it before tossing it to the side. His gaze returned to you, analyzing your face as if he’d never seen it before. His blue scanned over you in your entirety, drinking you in with his eyes. It felt like he was staring straight into your soul, taking every part of it for himself. He was your focal point, everything else behind him fading into a mess of colors. 

Even in your altered state of consciousness, your body still found the strength to flinch when his hand reached out to touch your face, his fingers leaving a fiery trail in their wake. “...You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered, his voice sounding ghostly in your ears. “I just want you to let me love you. And you won’t…” His words made you ill. So ill that you were sure that your stomach audibly turned. “I never…meant to hurt you. But you just made it so hard.”

You could see the tears welling in his eyes and the redness blooming on his nose. He was…crying. Or trying not to. You couldn’t clearly tell. “And then you told everyone that I..raped you.” He choked out, threading his fingers through your hair as you tried to move away from his touch, the sound of his digits scraping against your roots making your body recoil. “We both wanted it. You were just too ashamed to admit it. You thought it was wrong, that we were wrong. You were fighting me, I'll admit…but you wanted it.”

You shook your head, bile rising in your throat. “...Didn’t.” You choked out, throwing your head back against the wall. “I didn’t…want it.” You breathed. “And I…don’t…love you.” You struggled to form fluent sentences, your words slurring in on each other even with the long pauses in between nearly each word. “You and your family…took everything f-...from me.” Talking was as hard as hiking up the steepest hill in the world. “I just want my dog back. Can’t you j-...just give her to me?”

“Jesus- forget the fucking dog!” Rafe screamed, kicking a nearby object. You couldn’t see what it was. His hands gripped his hair at the roots, the boy pacing back and forth in front of you before crouching down in front of you once more, closer this time. “This is about us — me and you. I am in love with you. So, why is it…that you can’t love me back? You led me on. You made me like this-”

“No, I didn’t.” You cried, head thrown back as you looked up at the ceiling, tears running from your eyes, the droplets tickling your cheeks. “You made…me like this.” You said tearfully, a cough following the statement. “I was fifteen. I didn’t know…any better. But you did.” You wailed, lowering your head to look at him, although your head still swayed. “And when I did…know better, you didn’t w-want to let me go. And it doesn’t even matter…” You almost laughed through your tears. “Because your dad…ruined my life months before we even met.”

Rafe was quick to wrap his hand around your neck after that, squeezing harshly. He edged his face closer to yours, the tips of his hair tickling your forehead as stars invaded your vision, or what remained of it. “My dad? Did what he had to do. Alright? He’s not a monster.”

“...Neither was mine.” You croaked out. Rafe looked between your eyes with an expression you couldn’t place. Sadness? Anger? Whatever it was, he felt enough of it to release his grip, you taking the biggest gulp of air possible, your hair falling in front of your face as you held it down weakly.

He stood up from his crouching position in front of you. You heard him pace around once more as you caught your breath, each intake feeling like you were breathing in the coldest air ever, before you cried out in pain, the sound hurting your ears. Rafe had grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to pull you up, but you could barely stand so the angry boy used his other hand to grip your upper arm for support. Using the hold he had on you, he drug your limp frame into the small living area, throwing you onto Barry’s tattered sofa.

…Where was Barry?

You landed on your side, rolling over onto your back. The whole room was spinning again, the quickness of his actions not allowing your brain to catch up with the swift movements. “I try to do the right thing and no one ever cares. My dad and Sarah, even Rose…they blame me for everything.” He ranted and rambled, his hands balled into fists by his sides as he looked down at you. “I thought you were different.” He said through labored breaths. Him standing above you, face red and furious, you would've sworn he was the devil himself. “But you’re just as bad as the rest of them. But I can change that…” He nodded, climbing on top of you, straddling your motionless body.

All you could do was look at him through the strands of hair that cloud your vision. You let out a ‘hmph’ as he let his weight rest on your thighs. “I can’t change their minds. I can’t fix them.” He said, his hands trailing the hem of your bottoms before unbuttoning them. “...But I can fix you.” He breathed, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he nodded to himself. “I can make you love me.”

Before you knew it, the sound of him dragging the zipper of your fly rang out in your ears - the familiar situation triggering a series of images to flash in your mind. Images of the first time. You felt the puddles of hot tears leaving your eyes as your throat ached to say something. “Please, stop…” You cried, throwing your head side to side as your weak hands tried to push his away. “Please, don’t do this again.” You stuttered, your nimble fingers clawing at his knuckles as he struggled to drag your bottoms down your legs.

You felt like God himself came down from Heaven when a harsh light filled the trailer, the door of the mobile home opening as Barry entered, taking in the scene in front of him. You quickly registered that it was actually moonlight blinding you so viciously, the brightness fading behind Barry’s figure to reveal the eerie darkness outside.

How long had you been here?

“Aye, what the fuck? Rafe!” Barry said disgusted, slamming the door shut behind him. “Get the fuck off her, man. Don’t do that shit in my crib.” He told him, throwing a hand out in his direction. Rafe sighed, getting off of you and aggressively dragging your pants back up your legs, but he didn’t bother to button them back. You laid on the couch, sobbing silently. You didn’t know if it was out of fear or relief. “That’s why yo ass put me on paw patrol? So you could fuck the doped up girl in my damn house?”

Rafe made a face of annoyance, rolling his eyes at the drug dealer’s words. “Did you do it?”

“Uh, yeah, I did it, dumbass.” Barry said, voice full of attitude. “I just let her go in the backyard, it sounded like they were all inside. I saw one of the dudes come out and take her inside before I dipped.” He explained, grabbing a half-drunken beer from his cluttered coffee table. “Why you have me take the dog back if she still here? Y’know they gon come lookin’ for her eventually…” He threw out, the rim of the beer bottle touching his lips before he took a big sip.

“Just had to leave a little hint behind.” Rafe told Barry, sitting on the couch next to your feet as you turned to your side, groaning. He made a line out of the loose coke on the coffee table before quickly snorting it. A large exhale leaving his lungs as he let it pass through him. “It’s fun to fuck with ‘em, dude.”

“I ain’t with these games and shit.” Barry complained, walking to the back of his trailer. You were still laid out on the couch, sobbing silently. “If they come by here and fuck up my shit, it’s comin’ outta your pocket, Country Club.” He said. “And give her another hit!” He called from the back. “All that cryin’ and shit is givin’ me a headache. Damn…”

Rafe rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath before searching around the table before picking up the plastic bag Barry had before. You figured whatever they were putting you out with wasn’t cocaine. And that’s what scared you the most when Rafe snatched you up and shoved another pinky-full up your nose, letting your drowsy frame fall back into the plushness of the sofa.

“JJ…BACK IN THE VAN!” What sounded like John B’s voice filled your ears. Your eyes cracked open little by little, your vision much more clear and less distorted than the last time you recall waking up. So many voices were speaking at once. Your eyes wandered, trying to find out who was talking to who. It was then you realized the entire world was sideways and you were inside of The Twinkie.

Your head was slightly more elevated than the rest of your body, causing you to turn and peer above you where you found Sarah’s wide eyes staring down at you, finally registering the feeling on her fingers running through your hair. Her eyes were slightly red and glossed over as she peered down at you.

You felt more conscious this time around — no paint smears, no muffled voices, and you felt like you had more control over your body. You were cold, so cold. Probably shivering.

Looking over, you found that the door of the van was open. You could see a group of people crowded in on each other. When your vision focused, you realized it your four other friends and they were surrounding Rafe and Barry.

“What is wrong with you?!” That was Kie’s voice. And you knew her well enough to hear the anger in voice. “What the hell do you want, huh? You should be in jail, you sick motherfucker!”  It wasn’t long before the guys pushed her to the back of the circle, the girl yelling at Rafe through the blockade they’d formed in front of her.

“You Kooks think you can do whatever the fuck you want!” JJ shouted, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it before. It was almost unrecognizable. “You wanna end up like your father? ‘Cause we can make it happen!-”

“The fuck’d you just say to me, you little shit?” Rafe countered, stepping closer to JJ as John B and Pope stepped closer to him.

“You heard me, bitch.” JJ spat, the small accent he had showing itself as he pushed his way through his two friends to stand toe-to-toe with Rafe.

“All y’all needa get the fuck off my property.” Barry added, standing beside Rafe, but his words went ignored.

“If you wanna do this, we can do it. ‘Cause I’ve been waiting to get my fuckin’ hands on you.” JJ warned. “You like to drug girls? Rape them? Hit them? Hit me. Hit me, you pussy-” Just then, Rafe clocked JJ in his jaw, the force and sound of the assault causing you to flinch in Sarah’s lap as John B and Pope caught their friend, Kie gasping behind them. You tried to sit up as you watched JJ’s head whip to the side, but Sarah was quick to force your weak frame back down.

You looked up at her with wide, glassy eyes. “Rafe’s gonna hurt him.” You said weakly, sounding like a scared child.

The blonde girl simply shook her head side to side. “I don’t think so.” She smiled weakly before looking back out at the brawl unfolding outside of the vehicle. “Not this time.”

Your own eyes refocused on the two guys just as JJ recovered from the blow, wasting no time in lunging at Rafe and sending the boy to the ground, allowing himself to deliver blow after blow. You couldn’t tell if he was landing them, you could only see one arm go up after the other, his fists coming down in a vicious frenzy. 

Kiara was calling JJ’s name as Barry shook his head and backed up,n John B and Pope watching with their hands up. “Y’all gon’ have the cops pokin’ around here...” Barry said angrily, eyes on John B and Pope who stood by helplessly, shocked. “Get this shit under control, I don’t need them people on my radar!” The drug dealer urged, the commotion sure to disturb any nearby trailer owners.

John B and Pope looked at each other before John B peered back at you, an expression of sadness in his eyes.

Oh. You forgot…he didn’t know. 

So, it wasn’t long before that sadness turned to anger as he turned back to Barry. “...We’ll leave when he’s done.” John B spat, referring to the two boys brawling in the grass before walking away and rounding the vehicle to get in the driver’s seat, Pope and Kie following and climbing into the back of the van quickly. Without those three blocking your field of view, you could clearly see the two boys now.

Rafe had managed to pick himself up but surprisingly, JJ still had the upper hand. But it was still a brutal brawl between the two, one not staying on top for long before being pinned by the other. Every few seconds, you could spot droplets of blood flying. It was an odd thing — on one hand, seeing Rafe get his ass handed to him almost put a dizzy smile on your face, but on the other hand, you knew he’d never stop coming after JJ now. Any chance he got...

Especially since now he probably got the hint that JJ had some sort of feelings for you. JJ didn’t come after him like a concerned friend, JJ lunged at him like a enraged boyfriend. JJ attacked him like someone who was in love with you. And after what Rafe said in the trailer, or at least what you remember of it, these two would be butting heads over a lot more than financial status.

When the blaring of sirens hit your ears, you perked up, as well as everyone else. But Rafe and JJ were too enthralled with trying to kill each other that they must not have heard anything. 

The pogues began calling JJ’s name, trying to draw him out of his rage-induced assault to get back in the van. After a few moments, he finally registered their voices and the sound of the sirens. He forcefully pulled himself away from Rafe as the boy laid on the grass, heaving. JJ delivered one last glare to the boy on the ground, the blonde’s chest going up and down heavily as he turned and threw himself into the van.

“And don’t come ‘round here no more, you hear me?!” Barry’s voice traveled before Pope slammed the door shut, John B speeding off.

Your eyes were trained on JJ’s breathing figure — he had a small trail of blood going from his bottom lip to his chin, dirt on his shirt and in his hair, and his eyebrows were set into a permanent frown. You managed to meet his eyes for a second and he looked upset. 

Upset with you?

KIARA AND SARAH HELPED YOU INSIDE THE CHATEAU AS THE GUYS HELD THE DOORS OPEN. What you didn’t expect was for Marley to come charging at you the second you stepped foot in the house. The girls let you go gently, allowing you to crouch down on your knees and embrace your dog.

She smelled like wet dirt and you could feel the outline of her ribcage as you rubbed her sides. Tears gathered in your eyes as you and Marley comforted each other. Your voice was still weak and scratchy as you spoke softly to the animal. If anything, after today, you should be grateful she was still alive.

“Hey,” John B spoke up, your eyes going to him. “We can hose her down in the backyard while you wash off.”

You drew your lips into a thin line, nodding your head in his direction as you stood up on shaky legs, Kie and Sarah putting a hand each on your back. He and Pope led Marley outside, JJ lagging behind. “JJ.” You called out. The blonde simply looked at you over his shoulder, chewing the inside of his lip before making his way outside with the other two guys.

Your shoulders fell at his cold demeanor. You guessed he was upset with you.

“It’s okay…” Sarah reassured, her hand rubbing your back as you frowned into the distance. “He just needs a second.” She told you, turning you in the direction of the bathroom, helping you walk alongside Kie who hadn't said much. “C’mon. We’ll help you get yourself together…”

WHEN YOU CAME OUT OF THE BATHROOM, the house was empty. The only living things inside being a sleeping Marley and you. She looked a lot cleaner, aside from the food remnants around her mouth. You smiled smally to yourself, admiring the animal for a moments before walking over to her, crouching down and placing a light kiss on the top of her head. She was so deep asleep that she didn’t stir, even a little.

You almost passed out a handful of times in the shower, the steam only contributing to the lightheadedness you felt but easing the neverending ache in your arms and legs. But you felt better — less disoriented. Less…gross.

You were dressed in one of JJ’s few sweatshirts and a pair of pajama shorts. All the time the two of you’d spent living together meant some of your clothes were still mixed in with one another’s. Your hair was slightly damp, the strands pulled back into a low bun to keep it out of your face. 

Even though you felt more sober, you still felt like you were walking outside of your body and it was making you a bit nauseous. You spotted a bottle of aspirin on the kitchen counter, snatching it up and swallowing two pills.

Just then, you heard voices outside — low and faint, but there. You peered out of the small window in the kitchen , spotting John B and Pope laid out on the HMS Pogue. Everyone must’ve gone outside, you thought to yourself.

You slipped out the backdoor, bare feet on the grass as you walked in the direction of the two guys.

“What’re you two talking about?” Your voice was still off and scratchy but you were grateful that you could hear yourself talking. The two males turned to you, making out your figure in the dark of night as you squeezed into between them on the boat.

“How’re you feeling?” Pope was the first to ask, genuine concern swimming in his eyes.

You sent him a small smile. “Better.” You nodded. “...And I’m sorry. For putting you in a weird position, before I left. I shouldn’t have done that-”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He shook his head, patting your shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You mumbled a ‘thanks’ to the boy, patting the hand on your shoulder as he slid it off as you turned to John B who was already looking at you. You knew him the best out of all your friends. That’s why you could tell he was going from upset with you to sad all at once.

“Just say it.” You sighed, giving him the floor.

“...Why didn’t you tell me?”  He asked, squinting his eyes. “You’re like my sister. And not to sound weird but I love you, dude. I would’ve killed Rafe-”

“That’s why.” You cut him off, a pitiful frown on your face. “I didn’t need you doing anything stupid in my defense. And you were still torn up over your dad. We both were.”

He just huffed, turning away from you and shaking his head side to side as he crossed his arms. “...You still should’ve told me.”

“I know.” You nodded, sighing and sliding down to lay fully down next to your two friends. “Where is everyone?”

“Well, Kiara is out front doing…whatever. JJ has been pacing in the Surf Shack for like an hour, and Sarah...left.” He hesitated at the end of his statement, eyeing John B who just sighed deeply. You looked between them both, eyes stopping on John B.

“What happened?” You asked.

“We, uh…we broke up.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. “Why?”

“...She wasn’t the biggest fan of how I react to Ward blowing himself up.” He explained, shifting in his spot. “She said I looked glad. And I didn’t want to lie to her and say I wasn’t. Because I was.”

“I mean, I get it.” You threw out, looking up at the stars in the sky. “He killed your dad. He killed a lot of people…I think it’s okay to be glad he’s dead. But I also get her side. He was her dad. But she can’t expect you to feel the same.”

“Exactly what I said.” Pope chipped in. “How sad can you expect someone to be when their father’s murderer dies and they get to see it?”

“I don’t think it was that, though.” John B spoke up, his brows pinched. “She said that out of all people, she thought that I’d understand what it’s like to lose a dad. And I do and I feel like a dick for not comforting her in that moment and giving Topper the opportunity to swoop in but…I feel like she didn’t even give me a chance to be there for her.”

“...Love is five minutes of pleasure for a lifetime of pain.” Pope said sadly, you and John B turning to him silently with wide eyes. The boy turned to the both of you, the same expression plastered on his face.

“Okay…” John B groaned, sitting up from his position and leaning on his arm.. “You and Kie, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

“Well…” Pope said, sitting up as well as you just looked up at the two guys. “She wants to be just friends.”

John B and you sighed simultaneously. “Whooo, death blow.” JB said to him. “Sorry, man.”

“It’s not like I can say I didn’t see it coming. After what happened in Charleston…” Pope was explaining before he cut himself off, his wide eyes darting to you as he pressed his lips shut. But John B’s curiosity was peaked, and so was yours.

“What happened in Charleston?” The brunette boy asked, looking between the two of you. 

Pope’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. You cocked an eyebrow, sitting up on your own elbow now. “So you did see it?”

Now he was the one looking confused, using his finger to point at you. “You saw it? I thought you were inside-”

“I was but I had just walked out when I saw them.”

“So, we both saw it?”

“Helloooo.” John B butted in, the two of you looking at him. “Third party is still here. Saw what?”

“The kiss.” You and Pope said at the same time, looking at him.

“Kiss? What kiss? Who kissed?” He asked, genuinely baffled.

“Kie and JJ.” The both of you said in sync again.

John B’s jaw dropped as he stuttered to find words. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding JJ?” He settled on his question, eyes on you.

“Yes…” You said squinting your eyes. “What would you know about that, though?” You asked, wondering when JB got the inside scoop on you and JJ’s newfound relationship.

“I mean, everyone could see he had a thing for you. For a looong time. Well, everyone but you…”

“Thank you.” Pope butted in, throwing his hands up in surrender when you shot him a glare. “I’m just saying, I wasn’t the only one who saw it.”

“And he kind of told me everything that happened while me and Sarah were gone.” John B smirked as you groaned. “But we’re getting off topic…” He waved his hands, dismissing the previous statements.

“Right.” Pope refocused. “I never said anything about the kiss to her or him. I just kind of hoped it was a spur of the moment thing and that it would just remain as that — a kiss. But then, she friendzoned me. And now I can’t help but think that she likes JJ. And I don’t know if JJ likes her, no offense Y/N...”

“He told me he doesn’t.” You butted in. “The day we got that call about what happened to your pops, we had an argument about it. He said that Kie initiated the kiss and it didn’t mean anything. To him, at least. I don’t know how much of it I believe but," You cut yourself off, shrugging. "And I can’t speak for Kiara…”

“Okay, here’s some not-so-friendly advice for the both of you from good ole Dr. Routledge,” John B piped up, a bright smile on his face. “You,” He pointed a Pope. “focus on your yourself and your books and…grades and shit. Forget about Kie, there’s plenty of fish in the sea. And you, Pope, are one handsome young man and I guarantee there is some girl out there willing to jump your bones and not kiss one of your best friends. And, you, little missy,” His attention turned to you. “If JJ says he doesn’t have feelings for her and the kiss didn’t mean anything, I’d believe him. He loves you and I don’t think he would do anything to purposefully screw up his chance with you. And please, for the love of God, be nice and talk to him. Hearing him whine about you not talking to him is going to drive me off a cliff.”

The three of you laughed before you turned to Pope, a light smile on your face. “So, you really just weren’t going to tell me?” You asked in faux-offense.

Pope faked shock, a hand on his chest. “Uh, me? I didn’t even know you and JJ had something going then. If anything, you should’ve been the one to tell me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you!” You laughed and groaned all at once.

“Yeah, yeah…” He waved you off lightheartedly. “Alright, next time we see something that would…affect the other person, we have to tell. Deal?” He asked, holding out his pinky.

“Ohhh, okay. We’ll be each others witnesses. I like this two person witness protection program.” You smiled, connecting your pinky with Pope’s. “Deal.”

YOU WERE IN THE GUEST ROOM WHEN THE DOOR CREAKED OPEN, a stream of light illuminating the dimly lit space — the only source of light being a bedside lamp. You thought everyone had gone to sleep.

Turning at the sound of the door, you found JJ closing the entryway behind him before he turned to you. You could hardly see his features, not enough light to see his face clearly. Neither of you said anything as he walked slowly towards you, walking around the bed. 

He stopped in front of you, just inches between the both of you. Nothing was to be heard except your breathing and the cicadas outside.

“...What’s wrong with you?” He asked. His voice sounded strained, like he’d been crying. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You nodded, accepting his frustration towards you. Swallowing, you attempted to reply.  “...I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think.” JJ cut you off. “You left without telling anyone. You went there alone. Why would you do that?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there-”

“Anything could’ve happened to you. Anything.” JJ reprimanded, shifting closer to you subconsciously. “Do you know what is was like to hear, from Pope, that’d you left to go to Barry’s trailer hours ago? That you hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts that you said you’d answer? To ride all the way there with my heart beating out of my damn chest just to rush in and find you passed out on the couch with the your pants unbuttoned, confirming every single fear-”

“Nothing happened-”

“But something could have!” He lost himself, looking around as if someone heard as he licked his lips, one tear rolling down his cheek. “He tried to, clearly, and something could have.” He sighed, letting himself sit on the edge of the guest room bed, his head in his hands. “...You didn’t even know who I was when we woke you up the first time to put you in the van. You didn’t recognize any of us. You were completely out of it. I've never seen anyone like that...” He told you. You don’t recall waking up more than twice. Voices and colors here and there but…not much. “I know…that you think I took your trust and feelings and ran with them. But you can’t do things like that.” He said firmly, lifting his head to look at you. “I’m not blaming you. I just want you to understand that even if you’re mad at me or whoever, you can’t just abandon ship. Especially, not like that.”

He told you, reaching his hands out to grab your waist and pull you closer as you sniffled. You felt almost completely sober as you stood between his legs, the aspirin you took earlier taking effect.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his teary blue eyes boring into yours as he looked up at you. You bit your lip from the inside of your mouth as you nodded. “Okay…good.” He sighed, letting his head fall in relief before looking at you again. “I know the last few days have been…hard. Especially today. And I’m sorry that I put you in a place where you couldn’t even trust me as a friend anymore. But I don’t know how else to tell you or show you that I love you. And today just made me realize how badly I need you and how far I’m willing to go for you.” He said softly. “...There were so many reasons I didn’t tell you about the kiss. For one, it didn’t mean anything to me. Also the fact that I didn’t want to cause drama between you and Kie. But none of that matters because there was only one reason that I should’ve told you — because you deserved to know and because I promised I would. So, I am really sorry.” 

You'd never heard JJ be this vulnerable and open. Or be so vulnerable and open this easily. It didn't seem practiced or rehearsed. It was like he was really letting his heart speak for him and right all his wrongs.

After what happened today, holding a grudge wasn't as appealing. Because you didn't know what could happen tomorrow.

“...I believe you. And I forgive you.” You said, eyes locked on his. “And I’m sorry, too. If I had told you guys where I was going then maybe-”

“Don’t even go there.” He stopped you, shaking his head. “Rafe is insane. What he and that fucking loser, Barry, did wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have gone there alone, sure, but what happened wasn’t your fault.”

You just sent him a half-hearted smile. You know he meant it but you still felt at least partially to blame. You licked your lips and took a deep breath before speaking, your hands rubbing up and down the blonde’s exposed arms. “JJ…” You spoke, more like whispered.

Something in the way you looked at him changed. Something in the way you felt for him changed. “...I want you.” You felt the boy tense in your arms, lifting his head up more to look you directly in the eyes. “I don’t need any more time. I know what I want and I know how I feel. I love you. And I want you.”

“...Are you sure? Because you just went through something really terrible tonight-”

“I’m sure.” You interrupted him. “If I keep waiting until nothing bad happens to be with you, then we’ll never be together. This is our lives now. And even if we didn’t have all this death and drama around us, I would still love you.” You reassured, trailing your hands up to his shoulders as his soothed themselves up and down your waist. “You said you were all mine. So, now I’m all yours, if you want me…”

He had a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher. His eyes looked at each of yours and then landed on your lips, seeming to trace them before pulling you down into him and colliding his lips with yours. A small noise of surprise leaving your lips before you melted into the exchange. Your hands slid around the nape of his neck as his trailed the length of your thighs, helping you onto his lap.

His fingers pressed into your skin, passionately dragging his prints into your skin as your nails scraped at the skin of his scalp and shoulders. The kiss wasn’t like the ones before. Those were soft and gentle, testing the waters. This kiss was hungry and prolonged — feverish. So starved of each other that it probably would’ve had the potential to lead to something else if the day had gone differently.

But knowing JJ, after what happened tonight, any kind of sex was off the table. Ad you weren't sure when you'd be ready to go that far. But this was good enough. More than good enough. There wasn’t a single part of either of you that wasn’t touching. You couldn’t help but sigh when his warm hand went up under your shirt, his fingers clawing at your back as he pressed you endlessly closer against him. 

You were confused when he pulled back — lips swollen and red as his hair stuck up in one-hundred different directions. He was breathing heavy when he spoke. “Sorry, sorry…” He said through labored breaths. “Just to be clear, you are my girlfriend, right-”

You couldn’t help but laugh and roll your eyes. “Yes, JJ, I’m your girlfriend.” You smiled. “I’m completely yours.” You sighed, eyeing his lips like an animal before connecting your lips with his once more, the both of you falling back into the mattress.

next chapter>

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©loveharlow.

lmk if the taglist works now! xo

[aimedis]

random interactions between redacted characters: damn squad edition

(ib: @indigo-greer-collins) these may or may not be ooc but idc, open your mouth and eat up yum yum kind of a long one, ignore the mistakes

freelancer: i'm gonna nut to this man's voice damien: freelancer what. dear: oh! maybe we should let inside thoughts stay inside next time! freelancer: he can stay inside me damien: shut??? up?????

freelancer: damien, what the fuck do you know about privacy? do i need to bring up the anniversary trip? huxley: he told you about that????? freelancer: damien tells me everything. everything.

gavin, laughing at a joke freelancer made: you're so funny, my love damien, lasko, and huxley: dear: crickets freelancer: man fuck you guys

lasko, after a long day: i'm quitting my job. someone find me a sugar daddy gavin: got you, bae, i'll rob a bank for you. not like they can catch me huxley: can you not just like.. make money? gavin: well yeah but it's like, the sentiment

lasko: this is the third time i've walked in on the two of you doing.. things.. in damien's office. do you not have a job to do??? huxley you don't work here????? huxley: sorry dude! damien: cry about it lasko: you did not just say that to me. i know where you live. damien: someone help i'm getting threatened by a teacher. damn and it's racist employees for real. it's cause i'm a fire elemental, isn't it? because i'm asian?? and gay????? i should report you lasko: i'm [cue mini tornado]

dear: freelancer, are you okay? freelancer: huh? yeah, why? dear: you're glaring at your textbook freelancer: oh. i miss my boyfriend :( dear: it's been two hours. freelancer: that's too long, excuse me early please? dear: no? do your work freelancer: fuck you, i hope lasko dumps you dear: OKAY.

damien: freelancer, give me my phone back freelancer: no fuck you for telling my secrets. i'm going through your shit damien: i wouldn't do that if i were you. might scroll too far and see huxley's dick in 4k freelancer: *throws his phone*

gavin: d, when are you gonna let me do your hair? dear: no offence but i'd rather kill myself gavin: :(

damien: [idk something freaky] freelancer: okay you s-s-sl-slut! damien: this is why i don't like you freelancer: bitch you love me. you love so much you'd kiss me, feelings INCLUDED gavin, holding out his hand as a mic: damien, your response? damien: i'm jumping off the roof dear: bro is NOT beating the in love with freelancer allegations

gavin: yeah, they don't take compliments at all actually. especially from me. they say the most insane things dear: really? gavin: yeah, watch. deviant? freelancer, from across the room: hm? gavin: you look beautiful today :) freelancer: i'm gonna eat you :) damien: what does that even mean freelancer: wouldn't you like to know weather boy

freelancer: now i have to go back to school like a fucking slave gavin: deviant, you can't just say that freelancer: sorry i guess :/

lasko: guys, what does 'sigma' mean? damien: who told you about that.. lasko: one of my students wrote "the most sigma professor" on my whiteboard

freelancer: my tummy hurts :( huxley: awh, what did you eat? :( freelancer: huxley: ...freelancer, what did you eat. freelancer: uhm huxley: :|

freelancer: was it casual when you agreed to be my valentine despite not really knowing that meant? damien: was it casual when you called me your good luck charm? dear: was it casual when you said i was stuck with you gavin, huxley, lasko: :/

huxley: don't look now, but the guy i was talking about is right behind you damien: *immediately turning around in the most obvious way possible* where? huxley: dames-

freelancer: gav my tummy hurts i'm gonna die make it stop oh my god i'm getting eaten from the inside out gavin: jeez, and i'm the dramatic one freelancer: help me or you don't love me :(((( gavin: okay okay, i have the water and tea, relax

lasko: you're so down bad freelancer: you're talking??? don't make me send your partner the screenshots dear: oh? ko ko, what do they mean? lasko: let's not go there- freelancer, put your phone down. dear, looking at their phone: lasko: i'm so sorry dear: this is so graphic. you never talk to me like that baby :((( lasko, red faced: please stop i might combust dear: you're so cute :) lasko: PLEASE.

[jupiterswasphouse]

Im not sure if you can clear this up for me, but I've always been confused about wasps' diets... I've heard that they're obligate carnivores, but also that they eat fruit and nectar. Some sources say only their larvae eat meat. Others say the adults can't eat solid food at all. It's confusing and contradictory, e. g. if you google 'are yellow jackets carnivores' sources will say yes, but if you google 'what do yellow jackets eat' it says fruit. What's the deal? If you can recommend any papers or books I would also appreciate it.

Hey howdy! Yeah, this topic can be somewhat confusing to search for, but basically, adult Hymenopterans, with some exceptions (Such as certain Sawflies), generally do not consume solid foods. This is because the mouthparts of the majority of adult hymenopterans have been specialized to feed on fluids and thus have a structure in their mouths that's tongue-like, or even straw-like, called a "glossa"! This allows them to feed off of nectar and fruit juices or the broken down fruit itself.

[Image Sources: photomacrography.net, rjlittlefield, and ResearchGate | Image IDs: A photo showing the "tongue" or glossa of a yellowjacket, followed by a diagram and two photos under a microscope of the mouthparts of a honeybee /End IDs.]

Their larvae, meanwhile, aren't as specialized, so may be given solid materials, oftentimes meat or plant materials like pollen! When it comes to their prey, parasitoid wasps will lay eggs on/near or inside another arthropod (some paralyzed, others not) so that their larvae can feed directly off of live prey, while the social wasps that feed their young meat (like eusocial Vespids) often hunt down and kill or paralyze other arthropods or scavenge for bits of carrion for a more hands-on feeding after the larvae have already hatched!

For more information on wasps in general, I'd like to recommend "Wasps Of The World: A Guide To Every Family" by Gavin Broad and Simon Van Noort :]

[nialls-golf-putt]

Lights in the Floors, and Sweat on the Walls

(4.5k) You see a mystery brunette at a work party nursing a whiskey, one drink turns to another, and nothing could've prepared you for the night. tw: mild dom/sub dynamics a/n: this is honestly concerningly vanilla to me but i really liked the idea of a kinda workplace romance (mighttttt be a series) so here y'all go

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The music was thumping loud enough to aggravate you further. You couldn't help but think that just because someone was signed to the label, didn’t mean they had to play their music at parties.

You felt your phone buzz and reached into your purse when a woman walked towards you, dressed completely inappropriately for a work party.

You sighed inwardly and plastered on a fake smile. It was probably the wife of one of yet another operations executive who thought schmoozing up to anyone who worked in management would get their husbands a promotion.

If that’s how people got higher up in this industry, wouldn’t everyone do it? Her nasal voice broke your train of thought.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’m Jan Harmon, you must know my husband, Gavin. He works in Budgeting. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Gavin has nothing but praise for you.” She spoke with the ease of someone who had practised this in her bedroom mirror a lot of times.

“It’s Ms. (Y/L/N),” You corrected coolly, “And no, I’m sorry, I don’t think I know him. I don’t work directly with a lot of people.” You smiled, faking regret, as she went away, simpering. You were thinking about just how Gavin Harmon could get that raise he was pandering for when your gaze caught on a man in a russet suit.

He was nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hands as he stared around the room. You couldn't help but think that was weird. Sure, it was a casual event for everyone working for the label, and their plus-ones, but it wasn’t casual enough to be a whiskey kind of event.

What was even more weird to you, though, was the fact that he was standing alone at a party like this. You worked with people for a living, and the way he held himself made it clear that something was off.

You watched as he looked down, noticed his glass was empty, and went back to looking around the room. He was so intriguing.

You made your way to the bar and ordered two whiskeys, waiting on them when you noticed the man walking towards the bar. Just then, the barman slid the two tumblers towards you. The man had taken a stool just off to your right, and you slid the glass across the wooden countertop, praying it didn’t bump and splatter all over him

It didn’t. It stopped against his forearm, sloshing inside the glass a little but thankfully none came out. He had his head in his hands, thumbs massaging his temples. At the sudden touch, he looked up, confused. His eyes were a startlingly clear blue, you noticed vaguely. You nodded at him with a small smirk. He blinked a few times, clearly dazed, before giving you a weak smile as he took the glass into his hands.

You got up, your glass clutched in your hand as you quickly walked over to your assistant, Blakely, nodding, as you stood in front of her.

“What have you been up to?” She whispered to you, her eyes focused somewhere behind over your shoulder.

“Nothing, I’ve been dealing with people begging me for promotions all night.” You looked at her from the corner of your eye. “Why, Blake? Something wrong?” She narrowed her eyes at you. “You’re telling me you haven’t noticed that guy ogling you?” She whispered disbelievingly. 

“Huh? Who?” You asked, feigning confusion. She held you by your shoulders, pulling you so that you were standing beside her. “Him!” She whispered, tilting her chin slightly to the man from before. 

You watched wordlessly as he brought the glass to his lips and threw his head back, downing all of the liquor in one go. That must’ve burnt, you found yourself thinking. There was an air of melancholy that hung about him and you couldn't help but want to know more. Know what must’ve happened that had him drinking whiskey at a work party. Know him.

Blakely elbowed you, “Hello? Earth calling?” You pulled my eyes away from him, turning to face her. “What? Who is he?” You whispered back sharply, to which she raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know who one of the biggest popstars right now is?” she asked.

“I don’t have time to keep up with them, I couldn’t care less!” You burst out. “Jesus, woman!” She gasped exasperatedly, shaking her head.

You were about to reply to her when you saw another woman in a slinky dress coming your way and quickly threw back the whiskey. You were gonna need it, by the look of her.

“Ugh, another one. Gotta go, Blake. Talk soon.” You whispered to her as you plastered on a smile. 

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You were right about the whiskey. The rest of the night passed by in a daze, people coming randomly, wanting to chat. You kept catching sight of the man from before, here and there; sometimes absorbed in a conversation, mostly just nursing a glass by himself.

The party was coming to an end and you thought it would be appropriate to get drunk now, all the polished teeth and botoxed cheeks had made your head throb.

You had just sat down on the stool, looking to check if Blakely was around, when a glass slid across the countertop and bumped into my forearm. You looked up, surprised, and saw the man from before looking at you intently.

You raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, lips quirking up slightly and he stood up and walked over, taking the stool beside yours. His fingers were still wrapped around a crystal glass.

He cleared his throat before looking at you. “Thanks for the drink earlier, it hasn’t been the best day, if you were wonderin’. Let me return the favour. Pay you back, if you will.”

He slurred his s’ ever so slightly as he spoke, and you couldn’t quite place his accent. His voice sounded smooth despite the drinks, so you figured he wasn’t an executive; he must be an artist signed to the label.

“It’s a party, hon?” You replied sarcastically. This was all a bit ridiculous.

He shot you a dazzling smile, “Not the way I intended to return the favour, darlin’” he said suggestively with a small wink.

His accent made everything that came out of his mouth salacious, you thought in a fugue. You would be lying if you said the way he spoke didn’t make you clench your thighs together, his tone making obvious what words didn't.

Your eyebrows went up in surprise as you considered his offer. You didn’t have much to do tomorrow, just one meeting, and it was quite late. And he looked like he would be a good time.

You shifted on your stool, turning towards him slightly so that your knee brushed his thigh. He inhaled sharply, his teeth sinking into his lower lip for a split second. His fingers tightened around the glass. They were long, the pads looked rough, you noticed, your mind jumping to scenarios that were definitely not appropriate for a work party either. He caught your eye, staring intensely and you gave him a small smirk, dropping your eyes to his lips. 

He pushed his glass away as he stood up, eyes still fixed on you.

You took a few seconds to throw back the whiskey he’d gotten. Wouldn’t wanna let it go to waste, you thought. And as you stood up, you saw a look of worry fleet over his face.

You realised he must’ve thought you were going to reject his offer for a split second and had to suppress a laugh at that.

He waited until you were a step ahead of him and put his hand on the small of you back. “This okay?” he whispered, hot breath fanning across the back of your neck. You nodded, “Better than okay,”

He smirked slightly, and a small dimple popped out on his left cheek

“You’re too forward for someone whose name I don’t even know,” You said, as the two of you headed toward the door.

“You don’t know who I am, darlin'?” he asked, disbelief apparent in his voice.

“Nope,” You shrugged with a little laugh, popping the p. “But I want to,” You said as you turned a little to catch his eyes. You put your palm on his chest to motion for him to stop, and he obliged, a slight frown of confusion creasing his brow.

You leaned in on my tiptoes; he had a few inches on you despite your heels. “I want to know what I’ll be screaming tonight,” You said with a smirk, noticing his eyes darken, the clear blue turning stormy.

“ ‘M Name’s Niall, princess.” he murmured

You turned as you took his hand, placing it on your waist, and resumed walking. “Well, Niall - My hotel or yours?” You whispered, turning to him slightly.

“Mine,” He replied, a small rasp in his voice already at your forwardness. “It’s just two blocks down. I messaged my driver, he’ll be here soon.”

You nodded at him, not trusting yourself to say anything. There was something about his voice that made you doubt my ability to think straight.

We stepped out, crisp autumn air feeling cool against your skin.

You hadn't even realised how your skin had been prickling until now.

You watched Niall out of the corner of your eye, as you stood there silently, air thick with tension. “I never caught your name,” he asked shortly.

“(Y/N),” You replied with a small smile. He shot me a quick smile back, but his was loaded with all his intentions for the night. He repeated your name slowly, syllables rolling off his tongue, slightly broadened by his accent. "It's pretty. But I think I like 'princess' better" He smirked and I felt like my collar was suddenly too tight.

His eyes weren’t on you anymore, as he pointedly looked around for his car. It was almost like he didn’t trust himself to look at you and not do anything he’d regret later. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He suddenly said, “He’s here,” before taking your waist again to lead your to his car. You reached out to open the door, but he stopped you, reaching out himself “Least I can do, and I don’t mean it chauvinistically.” He said with a small smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you slid in, waiting as Niall followed suit. He nodded to the driver and the screen came up, separating him from us, granting us some privacy.

He sat close, his thigh not quite touching mine, but close enough so that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smelt like spices and sandalwood, you noticed, taking a deep breath before shifting slightly to the left, so that your thigh was flush against his.

Niall turned to look at you, “Too bad you’re wearin’ pants,” he whispered mischievously “Or I could’ve had you screamin’ my name right here.”

“Someone’s cocky,” You smirked at him, trying to ignore how you felt a rush of warmth between your thighs.

“Oh, I have plenty of reasons to be, love,” he said, even cockier this time.

It would’ve gotten on your nerves had his hand not suddenly landed on your thigh. His thumb traced patterns mindlessly over the fabric, going slightly higher each time, eyes watching your face for your reaction.

You didn’t want to give in too easily but you couldn’t help but squirm a little, trying to get him where you’d rather have him. He tutted lightly, “That won’t do, pet. Patience.” He smugly drew his hand away, smirking.

It was just two blocks, why was it taking so much time? The lights were dimmed through the tinted windows, but we were stuck in a spot of traffic.

You decided not to worry about it, hand reaching out to the now-obvious bulge in his pants. You laid my palm over it, one finger tracing the outline of the head of his cock.

Niall mumbled a little, “Feisty, aren’t ya?” from between his teeth. You chuckled, squeezed lightly, watching his breathing speed up. The way he threw his head back and closed his eyes made your breath hitch in your throat.

He bucked up into your hand a little, craving more friction, letting out some of the most delicious sounds you'd ever heard. You quickly drew your hand back, tutting, “That won’t do, pet. Patience.” You smirked at him.

“God,” he moaned, teeth gritted together. “The things I’m gonna do to you,”

You felt blood rush down my body, wetness pooling between your legs. You flushed as he caught your eye, the blue now almost completely black.

You bit my lip and his eyes flicked down and back up again. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice rough.

Without even having to think, you turned to him, thankful you weren’t wearing a dress. You hooked your right leg over his thigh, climbing onto him until you was fully straddling him. He whispered a sharp “Fuck,” as you pressed down into him. He was fully hard under you and you didn’t even realize how badly you had been craving the friction until you felt him. 

You leaned in slowly, enjoying how he seemed entranced under you. You pressed my lips to Niall’s, gently at first. But he wasn’t having any of that. His stubble felt rough against your face as he put his hands on your hips, fingers digging in as he increased the pace of the kiss. He ran his hands up and down your sides, then one of his hands slid backward to grasp at your ass. Niall squeezed tightly, blunt fingernails pressing in.

You moaned into the kiss and he took the opportunity to deepen it. He tasted like the whisky he’d been having and something sweeter you couldn’t put my finger on. You pressed down harder, clit throbbing for some friction.

You threaded your fingers into his hair and tugged, grinding harder, fully clothed. Niall moaned, louder this time, pulling away from the kiss. You were both panting and hadn’t even noticed that the car had stopped. You licked your lips, eyes still on his face.

“Room. Now.” He said shortly.

You clambered off him as he opened the door and stepped outside. He quickly reached down to rearrange himself and your eyes followed the action. His pants which seemed tailored and well-fit earlier looked uncomfortably tight now.

You blushed, running my fingers through my hair to try and get it to look like you hadn’t been making out in the back of his car. Your legs felt a bit shaky and you gave Niall a small smile as his hand retook its position on your back.

He gently guided you up the stairs, nodding at the man sitting behind the reception desk. The elevator was on the ground floor and he ushered you in hurriedly, but a middle-aged man with a briefcase followed you in.

Niall reached out to press the button for his floor and you found yourself staring at his fingers again. This time he noticed and smirked at you, his dimple popping out again. You flushed but didn’t look away. He raised an eyebrow, smirk widening and you squirmed a little under his gaze, but still didn’t look away.

The lift stopped and Niall nodded towards the door. You quickly walked out, feeling a little light-headed. The hallway was empty and Niall stopped a few doors down from the lift, hand inside his suit jacket.

You waited, biting your lip as you watched on, feeling a bit impatient. His fingers dipping in and out of his pockets had no right looking that sinuous and you blushed again, deeper this time. He finally found the card and quickly tapped it against the door. He took a step in and held the door open.

The second you stepped inside, Niall took you by the waist and pushed you up against the wall, pinning you with his knee between your thighs. A small moan escaped your lips and he smirked as he pushed the door close.

You linked your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him, sloppier this time. You could feel his erection against your hip and you moved around a little, both looking for some friction against his knee and to tease him. He gasped into the kiss, one hand reaching down to rest on your ass. 

His other hand took up position beside the first and he gave your ass a firm squeeze as he pulled away from the kiss. “Jump, baby.” He murmured against my neck as he lifted me, pinning me against the wall.

The new position made sure your core was pressed against his cock and you took the opportunity to grind into him. Niall began kissing sloppily down your jawline, sucking at intervals, teeth scraping the sensitive skin.

You dug my nails into his jacket-clad back, your head thrown back against the wall. He kept kissing you, messier each time. He pressed his tongue against the column of your throat and licked a broad stripe, relishing the feeling of you shivering against him.

“Niall,” You moaned out, clawing at his clothes. “Off.”

He pulled back and let you down, smiling. “I give the instructions around here, babe.”

Nonetheless, he pulled off the russet jacket, discarding it to the floor. “Strip for me, darlin’” he instructed with a nod as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Are you sure you’re not too drunk to do this?” You asked hesitantly, he’d had a few throughout the night.

“Not too drunk to want you,” he said smoothly, eyes roaming hungrily over your body.

You felt yourself clench around nothing as you pulled off your jacket and threw it to the floor. Your fingers were just reaching for the buttons on your shirt as he stepped closer, shirtless now, and put his hands over yours, hungrily opening all the buttons, dropping them on the floor in a smooth motion. 

Niall closed the distance, hands reaching behind your back as his lips hungrily lapped at your collarbones. He unhooked your bra and threw it down with a practised ease.

He walked backwards, hands running over your back, brushing over the hem of your pants. He gave them an impatient tug. “Off,” he murmured against your skin, then sat back on the bed, watching you.

You pulled back and unbuttoned them hurriedly, flushing at the undisguised lust in his eyes.

As you made to pull down your underwear, he put his hand over yours and shook his head slightly. He motioned towards the bed. “All the way up, back against the headboard, princess.”

You climbed up, not sure why you were obeying his every command but forgot all about that when he came closer, sitting in front of you. He tapped your knee lightly and you opened your thighs wide instinctively.

He smirked at the spot on your panties. “Mm, knew you were a good girl,” he said, before quickly closing the distance and attaching his lips to yours, one hand working on one of your breasts.

Niall worked his way down again, licking and sucking marks against your chest, flattening his tongue against one nipple, swirling around it as he squeezed the other. He bit down gently and you tangled my fingers in his hair, head thrown back against the cushioned headboard.

“Niall, please… more,” You panted out.

“Patience, darlin’,” he said, lifting his head to meet your eyes. 

He began kissing down, past your stomach as one hand continued to palm your breast, twisting your nipple until it pebbled under his touch.

His other hand gripped your hip, nails digging crescents into your skin. “Help me out, princess,” He murmured against your skin before drawing back as he pulled off your underwear. You flinched a little at the sensation of the cold air against your skin.

He was still wearing his pants and you were naked in front of him. Not fair, you thought. “Niall… off, please…” You almost begged.

Niall smirked, “You just had to ask, babe.”

He climbed down and pulled his pants off. His cock was tenting his boxers so much, to the point it looked uncomfortable. He pulled them off in one motion, length springing up to hit his stomach. He was thick and slightly curved and you bit your lip, staring intently at him, imagining how he would feel… taste…

“Bit rude to stare, love,” Niall said cockily, but being naked and spread open for him, you couldn’t even be mad at him. All you needed was him, on you, touching you, right now.

You had no time to say anything before his mouth was hovering over your core, not quite touching me yet, but I could feel his hot breath on me.

"You've got such a pretty cunt, princess. " He murmured roughly looking up at you, making eye contact before he stuck out his tongue and licked a broad stripe upwards.

You shuddered at the sudden contact, sensitive after all the teasing. He hummed against you, vibrations feeling blissful as he latched on to your clit, sucking hard, alternating with light nibbles. "Taste just as pretty as you look" He mumbled, lips brushing against your skin, stubble rubbing against your thighs deliciously.

You tugged at his hair, pushing his head down, barely aware of what you were doing. His eyes were still on yours as he continued eating you out with fervour, making sure to pointedly miss your entrance with each stroke and you felt like you could combust from all the attention as you whined.

"Such an impatient little princess" He tutted as he let go and started circling his tongue around your entrance. Niall’s nose was pressed against you as he stuck his tongue in, lapping at your inner walls like a parched man. You arched your back, a groan pouring out of you.

"You're so responsive for me, pet. Such a good girl." He murmured as he pulled away, before using a finger to collect your juices. Eyes still riveted on your face, he slowly pushed a finger in, up to his knuckle.

“Niall, more…” You whimpered. He bit his lip before smiling at you deviously. "Such a greedy little cunt." He murmured as he pushed in another finger, pumping slowly. He curled his fingers, reaching for the perfect spot, eyes searching your face for a reaction. "So fuckin' tight, aren't ya, princess?"

You screamed his name when he found it, toes tingling, eyes rolling back and he quickly latched onto your clit, continuing to pump his fingers and curling them expertly.

“I’m- Fuck- I’m close,” You panted out. Niall hummed against you as he pushed in a third finger. He curled them, pressing hard as he sucked at your clit.

“I’m- Niall I’m gonna-” You barely got the words out before cumming against his mouth, shivers running from your toes to your fingers, head lax against the headboard. You felt light-headed as he slowly pumped his fingers, drawing out your orgasm. watching your face with an easy, satisfied smile. 

Niall climbed up beside you, pressing his lips to yours. You could taste the familiar tang of your arousal on him and you moaned into the kiss. Still a little light-headed, you reached out, grasping the base of his cock.

He gasped and pulled away from the kiss, his head falling back onto his shoulders as you squeezed lightly. You let go to gather the precum gathered around his slit and spread it over the swollen head. You were about to lean forward as you drew my fist down, but he stopped you.

“Princess,” Niall panted out, “I won't last, some other time-” He broke off, inhaling sharply as you let go.

Cocky of him to assume that there would be another time, you couldn't help but think, but he gave a look that made your knees weak and you were grateful you weren’t standing. He leaned forward, lips pressed to the base of your neck, sucking a mark there.

“Down, pet.” he hummed against your skin. You laid back down as you watched him, teeth pressing into your lower lip. He rustled around in his bedside table, pulling out a foil package.

Niall ripped the package open with his teeth, rolling it on with his eyes still fixed on you. He gave himself a few quick pumps as he climbed onto the bed. “Spread for me, princess,” he said as he positioned himself over you.

You obeyed, whimpering a little as you felt his blunt head at your entrance. “Oh fuck, Niall- “ You moaned out as he pushed in, inch by delicious inch. 

He stretched you out deliciously, pressing chaste kisses to your jawline until he bottomed out completely. “So fucking tight,” he grunted, catching his breath, before crashing his mouth into yours hungrily as he started thrusting, slow and deep.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arching your back so that he could hit the perfect spot, feeling yourself clasp harder around him already. 

Niall angled up, thrusting sharply and you couldn’t help but dig your nails into his back, hoping you didn’t break skin. He pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, filthy sounds escaping him. You felt the knot in your belly tighten just looking at the expression of bliss on his face in the dim lights. “Niall,” You breathed out, “I’m- fuck- close,”

His lips formed a cocky smirk, before leaning down to press his lips to your throat. “Won’t last, either,” he mumbled against your skin, “Come for me, princess,”

The rumble of his voice sent you over the edge, moaning incoherently as you came undone, nails scratching down his back, him shouting out a second later, teeth sinking into your skin as you felt him pulse inside of you.

Niall leaned onto his elbows, catching his breath, locking you in under him with his hands on either side of your chest. A few moments later he rolled off, pulling out with a hiss as he quickly tied up the condom and threw it into the bin beside the bed.

He turned back towards you, pulling the blankets up, throwing his arm over your waist and while you hadn't been planning on affection the feeling of him nuzzling into your hair, whispering a silent goodnight was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You were too tired to protest, and it wasn’t exactly a bad feeling. All your thoughts of leaving went out the window as you mumbled back a muffled reply, drowsily nestling back into him, his warmth lulling you to sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A/n: Send an ask if you wanna be on my taglist <3 reblogs and comments hugely loveddd and here's my masterlist!

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Third Interlude]

First of all, I wanted to apologize for the delay. I got a problem with this story as I found out someone fed it to an AI. I was about to stop posting it and eliminate it altogether, but it'll be unfair for every one of you who had been so sweet and kind with me and so loving with this story.

We're officially in the middle, and I will walk all this way with you guys ❤️❤️ thank you so much for the support, and I'll read you soon!

Viktor x Fem!Reader /Gothic AU; Haunted Sea/----1.8K---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: One fateful night, you two say the thing that wasn't supposed to be.

Tags: Fluff | I'm emotional rn so it may be a bit sad | Some kissing | They say!!! the thing!!! | Needless to say please PLEASE do not feed it to an AI 😭😭😭

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr @ultimateslasherfan @beeblybub (it's been so long I'm sorry if I forgot to tag someone!! 😭😭 remind me and I'll do it for the next ones :3 pinky promiseee)

Third Interlude: The Stars in Your Eyes

New moon. The perfect witness to keep secrets.

And it isn’t that Viktor wishes to maintain his feelings hidden, resurfacing like the high tide during full moon—rising every night during the solitude of the watch, with the familiar glow of your window visible from the tower until sleep took you for the day, the light of the candle extinguished.

But it a necessary illness he doesn’t mind to be afflicted with.

The place you ought to call house it’s so different to this lonely tower; avant-garde wallpapers are here but starting to chip off. There the candles burn with riches fragrances, while here the beacon illuminates, unforgiving, leaving oil prints all over his fingertips.

At least he can pretend to watch over your dreams from here, peering at the starry night. A childish desire to keep you away from nightmares soaked in crimson tides and women jumping out the cliff.

It’s the same tale of every night—to cocoon in the couch by the control panel, door close to avoid any flicking light filtering inside the room. A book resting on his lap, forgotten pens scattered all over the floor by his shoes. Today isn’t worthy of writing in the logbook. At least not yet.

The door creaks open, metal scratch against wood.

“Viktor,” your voice makes him jump. Between a dream and a ghostly whispering like the sea uses to do with each crashing wave.

He stands up from the couch, leaving the book he was reading closed without any mark. It doesn’t matter. Viktor doubts he knew what the chapter was about even before you arrived.

His hands are eager. They settle in the roundness of your cheeks, finding like a miracle that your skin it’s so soft and warm. “You’re really here.”

It wouldn’t be the first time the water fools him, allowing him to imagine both of you, floating weightless inside an infinite of blue. Hands intertwined.

You oughtn’t to fear the place you come from.

“I almost got caught,” you laugh, leaning against the safety of his touch. Against the cold surrounding you in her way toward the lighthouse, Viktor is your refuge. “They hired new fishermen. Mister Gavin was talking with them in his office up until midnight.”

That catches Viktor’s attention, obliged to recoil his touch. “New fishermen?” Upon his hiring as lighthouse keeper, Viktor had seen the dark silhouettes of the fishing boats sailing on open water during the night, where fish could be easily collected. Every journey, fewer boats get out. And even less returned.

“He has always been a greedy man,” you sigh, sinking into the couch. He hopes your shampoo gets imprinted in his pillow for at least a couple of days. Until he gets to see you again. “He doesn’t wish to understand Piltover will never be the same as it was thanks to her.”

Viktor settles next to you. “I suppose sometimes dwelling in the past it’s the only thing one can do to avoid going mad.”

He observes you, loving that intense gaze that could only be described as a frozen storm, cloudy and deep and dark from all the tears he’s sure you don’t dare to shed.

“I hope he goes mad,” your voice is barely audible. A shivery whisper that crawls inside his chest. “I hope I get to do it.”

That need starts to nudge again the gate of his reason. You’re not like this, he wants to tell you. The poison dripping down every syllable, breaking its enchanting cadence. But it would be senseless to utter so—because your family has sworn upon themselves to forge you into whatever monstrosity the townsfolk’s rumors proclaim.

“There lies the reason behind your current visits?” Part of him lets slip, a terrible weight settled onto his heart.

Your chuckle echoes, a whisper that would remain even after you leave. “No, Viktor. It isn’t.” You drink from his golden eyes, twin stars guiding your way. You aren’t sure what this night has of special. It’s just a moonless night, full of stars in the sky. The sea laps all the same. “I would never drag you into my mess.” Not as Gavin and his new wife had dragged Astraia, hoping for you to grow all alone, feeding the desperation to seek freedom.

“I wouldn’t have minded if you do,” he says, and your eyes start to blurry.

His fingers are rough and cold, yet he touches you with the same delicate nature one would hold a butterfly. Afraid that if he takes too much, you’d be all but a shattered dream.

“I’m happy here,” you mutter, the secret you’re so afraid to say out loud if bad luck ever tries to snatch it. “I can’t go anywhere, but here… here I don’t want to run away.” And it terrifies you. All your life, wishing to be someone else, to forsake the family name impose upon your existence. Yet not even the waves could take what runs through your veins. “I loathe this place with every fiber of my being, but now you’re here and… everything has changed.”

It's like it was before. The blue of the sea is shinier, and the call doesn’t reverberate in your bones with the ache of impossibility. It calls you home. Morphed into one endless way up into the end of every lament.

For the first time in so long, you don’t want to leave.

His smile breaks your heart, and you let yourself cry, letting him hold you while every tear erases the grey colors once painted over the vibrant memories of your mother’s tight embrace, her haunting voice calling you to sleep. The way the sand got under your toes after one swimming afternoon. All the ghostly laughter you blessed upon the cliff.

Before everything turned crimson and empty.

“I will keep this place safe,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair. “For you.”

Your hands grab his shoulders, and for a moment it seems like you wish to disappear in him, to forever echo the rhythm of his heartbeat as another lullaby.

You can’t see him, so he dares to deposit a kiss on your forehead, muttering things you cannot understand.

“Come with me,” he says after an eternity that’s cut too short.

*~*~*~*

The water’s cold, but it lights every nerve on fire once you submerge.

Viktor slips behind you, your hands never leaving his once your tears are erased by the sea water hitting in gentle waves. A moonless night with inky water, yet you don’t have to fear the abyss. You have never.

“Does your leg hurt?” you say, waddling toward him. You could guide him toward the cliffiside where the coral grows meters under the surface, so he could feel the fish between his legs and grab at the rock for safety.

“N-no,” Viktor shivers. “The cold helps to numb sometimes.”

It’s barely visible outside of the lighthouse’s rotating beacon, which give you enough courage to inch shamelessly closer, until your dress it’s tangled in his legs. Because it’s your time to hold him, soak him in your warmth.

Astraia’s words haunt you, but what reputation do you still hold? You don’t care to stain the last name they force you to keep.

“Numb what?” You can barely feel his hands ghosting over your back. Afraid.

He averts your gaze. But you can’t let him; with your warm hands cupping his cheeks. Despite the coldness, you could see the faint blush on his cheeks every time the lighthouse painted the waves gold.

“Are you afraid of me?” you whisper, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Never.” His voice is gruff, the grasp so tight his knuckles are bone-white. “But… there are some things meant to remain hidden.”

“Why?” You know why, but you have stopped caring about the reason long ago. “I don’t want to keep them locked any longer.” It was as if sometimes they drowned you, blocking every breath from your throat at the mere thought of saying those words your tongue longed to express.

Your name has never been more precious that in the way Viktor whispers it. A prayer he covets for only him to call.

And you’ll let him. Of course you’ll let him.

“I don’t want to, either,” he says, golden stars fluttering close one his lips beckon yours, soft and pliant and so sweet. Barely a sheepish brush, before you push yourself closer, his hands grabbing handfuls of floating fabric on your lower back.

You get lost. Barely keeping afloat in the great tides of emotions sieging you. Yet Viktor doesn’t care if your lips taste like salt, if you’re shivering and breaking in sobs. Despite all the love, he knows it hurts—being loved hurts by the mere thought of all this being stolen with the same easiness it could be taken away.

But he won’t let it.

“You make me feel free,” you utter, breathless. And this otherworldly vision will forever haunt him; your bright eyes, swollen lips. The smile that’s just for him.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, his voice dripping with dread, the ever-present possibility of rejection.

Your laughter fills him with pain, but Viktor quickly realizes, by how you embrace him, that it’s not meant to be mocking. It’s euphoric, triumphant in the way you call for him. “Viktor, kiss me.”

And he does, up until the cold seeps into his bones, threatening into leaving him up to the design of the sea. Yet you hold him close, guide him back to the shore where you both lay in the sand like teenagers laughing at the constellations above because they would never have the brightest stars in all the skies, light only meant to gaze upon you.

And you love those stars, making them close so you can kiss them along with every precious feature of his face that you’re decided to carve in your memory.

Viktor embraces you despite the warmth of the sand seeping through your clothes, the humid summer air blowing hair into his face. You want to tell him the truth, to let your throat sore from a scream so everything and everyone could hear it.

But you’re afraid. You know this place always takes those who you love, and you dread for Viktor to be next. So you don’t, and instead, cuddle up right into his side, your cheek pressed against his chest as his breath slowly grows steady.

He’s asleep, but his hands are still taking yours, his chin over your head.

“I love you, too, Viktor,” you mutter, so low either he or the sea can hear you. Yet the lighthouse sees, casting shadows along your refuge on the coastline like a blanket.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Redactober 2024 Day Ten

Prompt: Damien & Dinner

Pairing: Damien/Lasko/Gavin/Freelancer/Huxley aka the DAMN Polycule

cw: suggestive language

“If you two workaholics grade papers through dinner again, Hux and Freelancer are gonna storm in here and quit your jobs."

Available on AO3 here!

<- Prev Day | Next Day ->

“What does this look like to you?” Lasko asks, turning a test sheet over and pushing it towards Damien who squints down at it over his glasses.

“Chicken scratch,” the fire elemental deadpans. “Like a failing grade.” 

“I can’t fail someone for having bad handwriting,” the air elemental says admonishingly, pulling the paper away like Damien might mark it with his own red pen. 

“You can and should if it’s literally illegible; you choose not to because you’re soft.” He emphasizes his point by crossing out a mis-headed paper with a definitive, lurid slash of red and tossing it onto the pile. 

“Is he? I can fix that,” a sultry voice chimes in as Gavin rifts behind Lasko, slipping a warm hand beneath his collar and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “If you know what I mean~” 

“Not while we’re working, Gavin!” Damien yells, swatting both the demon and flushed elemental with a rolled up test. 

“Not for another thirty minutes, you’re not,” Gavin says, putting his tote down on the table so his boyfriends can hear the thu-thunk of full Tupperware inside. “If you two workaholics grade papers through dinner again, Hux and Freelancer are gonna storm in here and quit your jobs. This was the moderate option.” 

“What- what time is it? It’s dinner time already?” Lasko sputters, spinning around in his chair to see the sun setting beneath the oak trees outside his office window.  

“Barely. Hot stuff?” Gavin hands a container to Damien, and the fire elemental resignedly sighs as he puts down his pen and heats up his palms, warming up the curry. 

“Are they upset?” he asks, kicking the other professor underneath the desk and jerking his chin at their array of tests and essays. Obediently, the air elemental bundles them together and sets them aside while the incubus brings out rice and utensils, rifting himself a chair out of nothing. 

“No, not if we hurry it up. Deviant won’t have dessert until we’re all home, and you know what they’re like without their ice cream. 

“You’re not allowed to help grade my papers,” Damien says threateningly, pointing his chopsticks in Gavin’s face. “You’re too easy on my students.”

“You’re just mad they like me better than you. Don’t worry, wildfire, you know I’m a teacher’s pet first and foremost~” Then Lasko starts to choke on the rice, Damien lunging over the table to smack him between the shoulderblades, and any talk of Gavin being a pet has to be shelved… for now.

[leth-writes]

yandere connor x reader

Connor is a dedicated, obsessive yandere. He spends most of his time researching romance, at first completely unaware of the reason behind his obsession. It takes months for him to realize that no, he does actually care about you behind what he normally would. This begins his process of deviation.

Hates how close Gavin gets to you, and wants you far away from him. Will purposefully goad Gavin into attacking him just to prevent the two of you from talking. 

When he’s out on the job with you, tries to protect you from any suspects. He’ll completely take control of the case. You aren’t going to be allowed to do anything, he’s doing all the investigative work.

“It’s alright, Detective; I wouldn’t want you to be exposed to anything dangerous…”

If you’re ever threatened by a suspect, he purposefully pushes them in the interrogation room to hurt themselves. It’s a deliberate decision, all to remove the threat.

Works to get you to like him, even if you’re anti-android. Hell, you might hate him specifically because of how creepy he can be, always looking at you with those big, empty eyes.

Eventually goes out of his way to attack anyone who you’re romantically involved with; he’ll break their arm, just to get them to understand how serious he is. All with that flat, serious look on his face. You’ve completely overrode any sense of morality built into him.

Eventually, once he can’t handle not being around you anymore, he deviates. Then, he kidnaps you.

He’s used the technology in your house to force you to stay inside, isolating you from the world around you. He’s able to hack into it, like a smart house; you can’t watch a show without him knowing. Makes sure you’re reported missing, maybe even finds a body to fake your death.

After the revolution, with Marcus succeeding, I can see the androids having a persistent habit of developing dark, yandere traits, creating a Detroit where androids are in charge, each keeping control over their respective love interest or family. 

I’m really interested in continuing to write for the idea of the androids in charge, so if anyone is interested, please let me know!

[starmocha]

Part 2 of me yapping about bird men is coming, it's in my drafts, but uhhhhh.....I also want to yap about the other two men in my heart (aka I clearly have a type and it's "I'm just a soft baby that wants to be taken care of instead for once in her goddamned life and these men are more than ready to take on that task") 👉👈

[if anyone wants to read part 1 of me yapping about Gavin and Sylus, here ya go]

Victor (Mr. Love Queen's Choice), aka Daddy

CEO of a large investment and financial company (Loveland Financial Group (LFG))

Birthday: January 13 (Capricorn)

183 cm

Evol: Time control

Flower motifs are red roses (love, passion, beauty; burgundy roses can also mean commitment)

Animal motifs are panda bears. During his childhood, for his birthday, his father even adopted a panda at a zoo in his name

Associated with winter because he was born in the winter lol

Tall, dark, and snarky af

Perceived as cold, stoic, serious...but he is a softie with you

Highly respected in his field

Grinded through school so he could begin his career early

Workaholic

Childhood friend of MC...but it's complicated...

Gourmet chef. Man even opened a secret restaurant he sometimes cook at whenever he fancies (key note: the restaurant is only opened whenever he's in the mood...and it's insanely popular too).

Will cook anything MC craves, and even knows ahead of time, so he has everything prepared in advance.

Calls you Dummy (affectionate). Sometimes adds in a "moron" or "fool" to shake things up a little bit ig 😀

Scolds MC a lot, but he loves taking care of her, too.

When he loves, he loves deeply 😩🫶

Believes in you, will guide you when you need his assistance or advice, but overall, he wants you to believe in yourself and trust your own judgment

Zayne (Love and Deepspace), aka Zaddy

Chief cardiac surgeon

Birthday: September 5 (Virgo)

186 cm

Evol: Ice

Flower motifs are jasmine (love, sensuality, beauty)

Not explicitly official, but Zayne is sometimes associated with seals due to a childhood incident with MC.

Associated with winter because of his Evol

Tall, dark, and snarky af

Perceived as cold and serious, but is a total softie with you

Highly respected in his field

Grinded through school to begin his career early

Workaholic

Childhood friend of MC....and I guess it was also lowkey complicated, too

Average home cook, but we love to see that 🫶

Tries to learn recipes MC shows interests in. Does his best to perfect the recipe so he can cook for her.

Doesn't really have a pet name for you (yet), but I make him call me Darling and it heals me immensely 💕

Chides MC frequently, but it's also because he loves taking care of her and looks out for her.

He will be vulnerable for you, he will tell you how much he loves you, what it does to him, how you are healing for him. He loves holding hands, the feel of your hand in his. Pls caress his face, let him feel you, it's all he wants, all he needs. ZAYNE'S VULNERABILITY IS HIS SEXIEST QUALITY I'LL DIE ON THIS FUCKING HILL i just love zayne so fucking much pls love him too ok is this also me realizing zayne is touch-starved like me asklsa;;;sk

Believes in you, but worries about you, too, even if he knows you are capable. He can't help it. He just wants you to be healthy and safe, and not having that 100% certainty kills him inside. 🥺

THEY LOVE CATS. BIG SOFTIES. Victor is also a cat dad to one named Pudding and it's adorable af. If Zayne's career isn't so demanding, I would also say give this man a cat, too, but we know he wouldn't want to take on responsibilities he couldn't give his 100% to. 🥺

This brand of spicy is top-notch. Absolute elite shit 🤌 god me and who fucking when???

Head empty. Just long-haired Victor and Zayne to heal my tired soul 😩🫶

I like them for their personalities. 10/10 would recommend. 😀

[kka1lyns]

Ace Attorney prosecutors sending their s/o to prison — pt. 1

— hi guys 🔥🔥 im slowly getting into ace attorney bcs of my friends so naturally im gonna write ab it yay

— note: this was a req by my irl friends who lowk held me at gunpoint js to write the hcs (cough cough danelle, cough cough mike)

— characters may be ooc

— good ending (except for franziska per req 😞😞 sorry reader!!)

— talks about m3rder

— gn reader

— characters for p1: franziska von karma, miles edgeworth, barok van zieks, klavier gavin

— characters for p2: simon blackquill, nahyuta sahdmadhi, godot, kazuma asogi (most of this is angst 🥹🥹 be prepared 🔥🔥)

— i’ll post pt 2 soon hehe

— aa masterlist

— starts under the cut!

Franziska Von Karma

When she heard you’d be charged for murder and shes your prosecutor, she was livid.

She couldn’t really do anything about it since she was in the courtroom, so she made so much use of her whip that day.

But would she sacrifice her perfect record for you?

No.

She would continuously give your defense attorney the hardest time of their life, and you’re sitting there, so hurt.

You weren’t even sure if she was using false evidence against you or not, but you knew you were innocent.

It was evidence for the actual m3rderer, according to the witness

If she knew you, she’d probably think you were too.

But as she talked to the witness, she was just like:

“[Reader] really did it? They wouldn’t…”

But she had to say everything the witness told her.

You wouldn’t know, but as she spoke, she felt so hurt too, falsely convicting you.

She just had a gut feeling you didn’t do it, but she had to believe you did.

In the end, you got sent to prison, and she’d constantly regret her decision the whole time you were in there.

The whole time you were, that’s when she realized how much she needed you with her.

She thought she could get over you, but she was wrong.

So wrong.

When you got out, she couldn’t even look you in the eye.

Sure, she has a perfect record, but at what cost?

Your relationship? Hurting the one she loves the most?

Maybe, and she has to deal with it for the rest of her life.

Miles Edgeworth

Okay.

If Franziska was livid, he’s even more livid. (whats the word for that I lowk forgot)

Anyway, as good of a prosecutor as he is, this is his s/o we’re talking about.

His evidence is as always amazing, but he will remove a thing or two, just to give your defense attorney a loophole.

It’s Wright. Your defense attorney’s Wright.

Unlike Franziska, he would definitely sacrifice his record for you.

You are far more important than that.

He knew you would never commit the murder

You obviously did not.

And once you got the “not guilty” verdict, he was so relieved.

It wasn’t anywhere near visible, but he was.

After your trial, you didn’t really talk to him much.

He had to initiate everything for a while.

You understood that it was his job, but you couldn’t help but feel a little bit hurt.

However, once he told you he removed a few tidbits in his evidence, that changed a few things.

He knew you couldn’t have committed the murder.

And that just shows how much he cares for you <3

oh my gods THIS MANNNN

i just had to give him a good ending nyeheheh

he was supposed to be angst..

Barok Van Zieks

As calm as he usually is, inside, he wasn’t calm at all.

When he heard you were accused of m3rder, it was getting hard to keep calm.

Like Edgeworth, he would try to give your defense attorney a few loopholes by removing some information just to keep you safe.

His record may be not as perfect as the first two (cough cough, franziska),

But if he had one, he would for sure sacrifice it for you.

isn’t that sweet!

i promise he has no angst

With all the loopholes and everything, you’d get a not guilty verdict.

And he was sure of it.

When your trial was over, you could tell he definitely gave a few major loopholes for your defense attorney.

Which you were so grateful for!! especially since you didn’t commit the m3rder and were completely innocent

Anyway, he did feel bad that he was your prosecutor because if you went to prison, it was because of him.

And he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt he’d have for getting you falsely convicted.

Give him a bunch of cuddles because this man needs it after your trial.

He’s just as traumatized as you were (lol).

Klavier Gavin

Okay I feel like everyone I’m writing for is lowk gonna be mad when they see you as the defendant but I’m putting it in here anyway!

Like Barok, yes, he would be calm, but he would make a few comments here and there.

If the two would give loopholes, he would make it completely obvious you didn’t do it.

I just know he would leave out major details just to make sure you wouldn’t go to prison.

It honestly looks laughable

It didn’t really look too bad on him, but if you looked closely, it would look quite obvious.

When your trial was over, he’d constantly apologize to you over and over again.

Both words and actions.

He’d even make you an entire song if he had to!

Even to someone who’s job has no relation to law at all, you saw the major details he left.

To you, it was so cute how much he was trying to protect you.

This man cares about the truth, and both of you know that you didn’t do it.

He wouldn’t put you in prison for something you didn’t do.

I don’t think he’d even put you in prison at all…

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

The First Crush

RK800 Connor X F!Reader

He was an android! He wasn’t supposed to be stuttering like some nervous school boy seeing his crush for the first time. And yet, here he was making a fool of himself.

A/N: ahhh! this is my very first DBH fic! feedback is always highly appreciated!

Connor had been infatuated with you from the moment he’d stepped into the precinct that first morning. Sure, he hadn’t been a deviant yet at that time but there was something about you that drew him in. Whether it was the little knick knacks that you had sitting around your desk, or the photo of your two cats you proudly displayed. The first time he’d ever talked to you was what anyone would call a disaster. He’d nearly spilled the coffee he’d gotten for Hank all over your desk, nearly tripping over his feet as he stuttered over his words.

He was an android! He wasn’t supposed to be stuttering like some nervous school boy seeing his crush for the first time. And yet, here he was making a fool of himself. Hank had swooped in to save him from further embarrassment, making sure you were distracted while Connor cooled down.

You introduced yourself to him later on that day in the breakroom, ignoring Gavin’s snide remarks as you tried to make conversation with Connor. It was nice to be seen as something other than an android. Amanda had been surprised to learn about you, how Connor had made a friend so soon after arriving. Her tone left no room for argument on how Connor was supposed to approach his friendship with you, and why would he think any differently? Hank was his partner first and foremost, so he had to work on building that relationship.

CyberLife didn’t want him becoming distracted from his goals, lest they take him down into the sublevels and decommission him. That would put a real damper in him figuring out the whole deviancy cases that were beginning to line up. After the first case it became harder to figure out why they all seemed to deviate. From androids killing their owners, to androids being in love with one another.

Hank had questioned him as to why he hadn’t shot the deviant from the Eden Club, but Connor couldn’t give him a proper answer. He wasn’t even sure himself as to why he hadn’t shot her when he had a perfect shot. Instead he let her partner, lover?, kick the gun out of his hand before running off together. Amanda had been furious when Connor tried to deflect, lying to the older woman as if she couldn’t predict his very thoughts.

She did live inside his head after all.

Then there was Markus. Their first meeting hadn’t exactly gone the way Connor had hoped it would. He’d borrowed some clothes from Hank, promising that he wasn’t doing anything too dangerous and that he'd be back before the end of the night. (That dear reader had been a complete and total lie the moment the FBI had raided Jericho). Connor had been unable to forgive himself for a while after that, even once the androids were given their rights. Markus had assured him that things between them were fine, Connor had become a deviant and helped them all in the end.

Connor hadn’t properly forgiven himself for months after the incident, choosing to throw himself into his work and avoid everything else that surrounded him. Sure, he didn’t need sleep or food the way a normal human would so he could spend longer looking over case files, but something irked at him. You always seemed to check up on him, offering to drive him to Hank’s so he could get away from the precinct. It was nice.

He’d taken up your offer a handful of times, offering money to pay for gas since you lived on the complete opposite side as Hank. You always refused though, promising him that you didn’t mind driving Connor home. Hank wasn’t too put out by the idea either, glad to know Connor was making other friends besides himself. He’d always be his partner, but sometimes Hank liked to just sit and be by himself for a few hours at a time.

It took Connor longer than he’d realized to come to the conclusion that he had a crush on you, that his feelings ran deeper than just a simple friendship. It was downright terrifying for the android to try and wrap his head around. You were his friend, and now he was thinking about things like taking you out onto a date! 

“Hank! I need some advice.” Connor stormed into the quaint house, tossing aside his coat as it landed on the kitchen chair.

Hank’s hand hovered mid-air, fork full of rice from his favorite Chinese place downtown steaming as he stared over at Connor. When he didn’t make another move to try and start talking again Hank quickly shoved the bite into his mouth, chewing slowly. Once he’d swallowed the rice without any hazards, Hank set down the container and his fork, turning to face Connor.

“Alright, what type of advice do you need?” Hank was doing his best to hide his surprise, the fact that Connor, essentially a walking computer, needed advice? This was something big.

“I want to impress someone, someone that I really like.” Connor reached up to loosen the tie around his neck, fingers hooking in the soft silk material and pulling back and forth as it slowly slid down.

“Well, what do you know about this person?” Hank almost felt like a proud father, watching someone he’d grown close to have their first real crush.

Connor’s eyes lit up as he began to talk about you, leaving out your name more for his own sake rather than yours. He talked about how you loved cats, it didn't matter what they looked like, you just loved cats. Or how your favorite movie was some campy movie based off of a videogame that came out in the 90’s. How no matter what, you always brought in some kind of dessert for someone on their birthday.

“Okay, that’s some good information to start with.” Hank pondered over the information Connor had given him, thinking back to what he would’ve done.

Connor laid his tie overtop of his jacket across the chair, unbuttoning the buttons on his sleeves to roll them up onto his arms. The dishes needed to be done, and right now he needed to get some good advice from Hank lest he lose his mind thinking about you.

“You could always start small, get her some flowers for her home, or something that she might appreciate.” Hank hadn’t dated, or been with anyone in quite a long time, so he was a little rusty.

Connor was elbow deep in soapy water, locking away the little information Hank had given him so he could figure out exactly what to do. Surely this would be too hard, right?

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Connor couldn’t help but feel nervous as he walked inside the precinct, the small bundle of flowers held loosely in his right hand. His eyes scanned over each desk before finally landing on yours as he made his way over.

“Y/N?” Connor leaned over to try and get your attention, hoping he didn’t startle you as he’d done multiple times before.

“Oh! Hi Connor, who’re those for?” You gestured to the flowers in his hands, taking in the different colored roses.

His brow pinched for a moment before a realization seemed to hit him as his back straightened suddenly.

“They’re for you, I wanted to find something that wouldn’t be bad for your cats.” He held the flowers out closer to you, a nervous smile on his face.

Your eyes brightened as you smiled widely, carefully taking the flowers from his hands as you brought them up to your nose.

“I hope I made a good decision, the florist said these wouldn’t be overpowering, and also safe for your cats.” Connor subtly scolded himself for repeating something he’d already said.

“Connor, these are gorg-ACHOO!” You carefully set down the flowers as you hastily grabbed a tissue to try and plug your nose.

Connor felt himself begin to panic, had he done something wrong? Did he get the wrong type of flowers?

“I’m sore-achoo! I promise the flowers are lovely, I just, achoo! I’m kind of allergic to pollen.” Your nose began to stuff up from the fragrant roses, your eyes watering slightly as you reached into your drawer for your allergy medicine.

That was the very thing that Connor had forgotten to take into consideration, he’d known all about allergies. Hank had a deadly allergy to bees, meaning he couldn’t have anything with honey or beeswax. He’d nearly made the mistake of gifting him something that had honey in it, but was reminded just before he’d purchased it. Nothing worse than accidentally killing your lieutenant.

Well, maybe making a fool of yourself in front of someone you’d become infatuated with was pretty high up on that list right now.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I forget that pollen is one of the most common allergies. Would you like me to take the flowers?” Connor wouldn’t be affected by them, at least not in the way you were at the moment.

“No! Really, Connor, it's fine. I just need to take some medicine and I’ll be right as rain.” You smiled up at him, he could sense the faint swelling of your nose from the pollen.

“If you’re sure.” He was unsure of what to even say, second guessing himself at that moment.

You reassured him once more, taking two of the tablets with a long sip of the water you always brought in to work.

He’d just have to do better next time.

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Connor had been lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of Hank’s living room as Sumo laid down on the floor beside him. The couch was newer, more for Hank’s sake rather than his own, Connor didn’t need comforts in life the way a human would. Sumo had been ecstatic to see the new couch, claiming the long chaise lounge for himself once it was set down. Hank had fallen asleep on it many times, the television playing quietly in the background before Connor got home. It felt…normal.

“What’s got you so pensive?” Hank was making dinner for himself, Sumo having already been fed for the night.

“I screwed up by getting her the flowers, how could I make it up to her so that she doesn’t have an allergic reaction?” Connor had done some research to find any other important allergies, the main one was pollen which he’d already known.

“Well, do you know things that she likes? And I mean actually likes, not some wild guess from analyzing her.” Hank plated the steak, turning to face Connor before taking a seat at his kitchen table.

“She really likes cats, has an infatuation with black cats.” His mind raced with a million and one thoughts as he tried to decipher what exactly he could get you.

Hank hummed lowly, cutting into the meat before popping a piece into his mouth and chewing slowly. His brow pinched as he thought back to what he’d get his ex wife as a way to impress her when they were first dating.

“Why don’t you take her to lunch? Nothing super fancy so she doesn’t feel pressured. Don’t they have restaurants that androids can eat at now?” Hank knew there were plenty of places both you and Connor could eat at, he just didn’t want to seem soft.

Connor thought about it for a moment, cataloging all the restaurants in the area that served food that the both of you could eat. The closest, and most casual one, was just a few miles away from the precinct. Maybe he could take you there on Monday as both an apology for the roses, and a way to get to know you better.

Surely this wouldn’t go wrong.

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His nerves were shot, there was no other way to possibly even begin to explain why he was freaking out over something so normal. 

You’d agreed to go to lunch with him, even offering to cover your meal even though Connor downright refused and told you he would cover it. He didn’t need to really eat often, so when he did he liked to enjoy the atmosphere of wherever he’d decided to eat. Of course he would usually sit in one of the corner booths by himself where he could go over casefiles while eating.

Today was a completely different experience entirely. Besides enjoying a delicious meal with you, Connor had also seen you truly open up. You weren’t afraid to laugh at his dry humor, something he’d learned from Hank more so than anywhere else. The conversation never seemed too dull, the two of you talking the entire time until you had to get back to work.

The moment you stepped outside, ready to make the short-ish walk back to the precinct, it began to downpour. Connor cursed under his breath, quickly pulling off his coat to try and use it as an umbrella for you. You gripped onto the soft material, holding it tight as you both began to try and sprint to the precinct.

Thunder clapped loudly in the sky, the sound vibrating through both of your chests as you finally made it back. As you handed Connor back his jacket he couldn’t help but frown. His jacket hadn’t done any good to keep you dry, your clothes were absolutely drenched. He’d known he wouldn’t fare well during the run, but he hoped to at least keep you a little bit dry.

“Shit, let me see if they’ve got some dry clothes for you to wear.” Before you could even utter a word Connor had run inside, heading into the back to find the old stock supply of hoodies and sweatpants.

Debating for a moment he grabbed clothes for the both of you, bringing them back out to where you’d been standing at your desk. You must’ve come inside after he left you outside of the precinct. Jeez, he was failing miserably at this whole thing, trying to impress you by doing things that seemed cute together.

“Here, I’m sure there’s towels in the shower that we can use to dry off with.” Connor handed over the clothes, a guilty expression pulling at his face.

You smiled softly at him, thanking him for the clothes before making your way down to the locker rooms. Connor did the same with his own clothes, stripping down completely, except his boxers, and drying off as best he could before pulling on the new clothes. They were big enough that no part of his body was hanging out, but they definitely screamed, ‘I fucked up and have to wear this as punishment’. Connor wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never speak to him again, he couldn’t handle another bad thing happening due to his negligence.

“Well, well, what happened to you two lovebirds?” Gavin’s smirk was anything but friendly, his lip pulled up into a harsh sneer.

“Just ended up getting caught in the rain, didn’t want Y/N to get sick so I found some dry clothes for her to change into.” Connor knew better than to engage in any kind of conversation with Gavin.

The man was barely tolerable, he was sure that if he hadn’t been an android Gavin would’ve found an entirely different reason to hate him. He’d seen the way Gavin had tried, and failed, to convince you to go on a date with him so many times before. Connor had been afraid you wouldn’t even accept him since he was an android, but you were the first friend, besides Hank, that he had. You always stood up for him, even if sometimes he’d gotten himself into the mess he was in. Nine times out of ten they were caused by Gavin being an absolute dick, today was going to be no different.

“Oh? So you’ll go out with this piece of junk, but not a real man? What, you’ve got a fetish for that android di-.” Gavin was cut off as Connor turned suddenly, his knuckles colliding with the skin of his jaw.

Gavin hit the ground hard, a loud yelp echoing inside the room as Connor’s hands clenched into tight fists. Chris and one of the other officers ran over to check on Gavin, probably to make sure Connor hadn’t broken anything on him. He hadn’t, Gavin would just have a nice bruise to set a reminder as to why he should finally leave you and Connor alone.

“Connor!” Hank’s voice boomed louder than the rest of the chatter, his body locking up as he slowly looked over to where Hank was standing.

You were standing behind the lieutenant, eyes wide as you glanced between where Gavin was sitting on the floor over to where Connor stood. A slow smile pulled up your lips, eyes twinkling as you quickly made your way over to your desk.

“Sorry, should I fill out a harassment form?” Connor didn’t feel the least bit sorry for hitting Gavin, but he also didn’t want to lose his job.

“Just, don’t do it again, okay?” Hank stared back at him until he nodded, nodding once before sitting down at his own desk.

Connor quickly followed suit, ignoring Gavin who was downright seething at being not only punched by an android, but someone who wouldn’t get into any trouble. Anyone with two brain cells could see how annoying Gavin was, so who better to hit him than Connor? It was a win-win situation if he did think so himself.

“Thank you, Connor.” Connor’s head snapped over to where you sat, brow furrowed as his lips parted.

You looked as if you hadn’t just spoken to him, your hands typing away at your keyboard as your eyes followed each word to make sure you didn’t make any mistakes.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” Connor kept his voice low, he knew you’d hear him, but he didn’t want to make Hank feel uncomfortable.

Even though their afternoon had been ruined from the rain, it helped knowing that Connor could make Hank and Y/N smile at the expense of finally getting to hit Gavin.

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Connor had been restoring a classic Harley Davidson for nearly six months, slowly buying parts and working on it whenever he wasn’t needed at the precinct. Hank hadn’t minded Connor working on it in his garage, almost preferring it being hidden away from other people. Connor had joked that he’d let Hank drive it as long as he got his motorcycle license first. Hank on the other hand said he liked how they looked, but he also liked having all his limbs. It was no shock that most people didn’t respect people, or androids in this case, on motorcycles. He had spent weeks learning to drive perfectly, even though he was an android there were always insane drivers.

He’d bought a jacket and helmet during his last shopping excursion so he could at least be prepared when the bike was finally finished. The weather had finally warmed up, which meant he could drive around without the sun setting at four pm.

Taking a deep breath he grabbed the accelerator, reaching up to see if he’d been successful at reviving the old bike. The engine roared to life as he twisted his wrist forward gently, the sound of the engine revving like an angry lion.

“I did it!” Connor quickly turned the bike off, not wanting to waste what little gas he had in there at the moment. He’d drive down to the gas station and fill it up so he could drive it to the station and surprise everyone.

Well, he really only wanted to surprise you.

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Connor had chosen his clothes carefully, sliding on the boots that were recommended, before grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on over his shoulders. Hank had mentioned how he could walk a runway with his clothes, almost shocked at how effortless it was for Connor to look handsome. He’d never really understood the appeal, he wore clothes that he found pleasing, or what would keep him safe from the outside environment. 

Grabbing the helmet he made his way outside, having already parked the bike in the driveway so that the garage wouldn’t be sitting open the entire day. Putting on his helmet he straddled the bike carefully, turning it on as it roared to life once more. The gas tank was full, something he’d insisted on doing the night before. Carefully kicking up the kickstand he walked the bike to the end of the driveway, checking for any pedestrians or other drivers before he began to drive.

The wind felt nice as it whipped by, the rumbling of the bike vibrating from his toes to the tops of his shoulders. Other drivers stared as he drove by, their shock evident at the loud motorcycle as he sat idly waiting for the light to turn green. The drive wasn’t one he hated doing, quite the opposite as it gave him time to think about what needed to be done. Unfortunately it seemed he tended to drive much faster while on a motorcycle. He pulled into the parking lot almost fifteen minutes before he was due to arrive, parking between your and Hank’s car.

Once the bike was off, the engine slowly cooling itself down as he pushed down the kickstand to step off the bike, Connor noticed a few people staring. That would always happen no matter where he was, but this felt different. They didn’t look jealous, no, they looked almost shocked to see Connor stepping off the bike. Okay, maybe he did have a reputation for being a goodie two shoes but that was before the deviancy.

He grabbed the bottom of his helmet, slipping it off to try and fix his hair if needed. Since he didn’t sweat his hair hadn’t flattened to his head, running a hand through fixed it right away. The two officers outside kept their eyes on him as he made his way inside.

“Connor! Just the man I was looking fo-.” Your voice cut off as you stared over at him, eyes wide and lips parted.

That was a reaction he’d never gotten from you before, why did you look like someone shell shocked? Was there something wrong?

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Connor stepped over, his helmet held loosely in his right hand.

Your eyes trailed over his body slowly, much slower than he’d ever seen you to do anyone else before, even people you found attractive. Your body temperature rose by a degree, skin flushed with goosebumps.

Oh.

Oh.

“I-I’m sorry, yes Connor, I’m just fine.” You smiled up at him, hands shakily clutching the tablet in your hands.

“Are you sure? We can go sit down at my desk if you need to.” Connor gently took your elbow, leading you down towards the desks and ushering you into his usual seat.

“Connor, I promise that I’m fine. I’ve been going over the paperwork from this most recent case if you’d like to look at the information.” You held the tablet out to him, your voice breathy as your eyes trailed down his throat and chest.

He opened his mouth to respond, to tell you that the case could wait a few more minutes before he noticed the uptick in your heart rate. He’d never had this kind of effect on someone before, it felt invigorating. 

“Alright, I believe you.” He smirked down at you, plopping down into your chair before scooting closer.

You jumped right into the case, avoiding looking at him for any period of time to try and get your thoughts under control. Jeez, it was like you were a schoolgirl with a crush on the hotter older kid. Except you worked together, and Connor was clearly trying to impress you with the flowers, and then lunch, and then… Oh!

“Is something bothering you, Y/N?” Connor’s voice was low, the softness of his eyes keeping you from being able to speak properly.

“Actually, there is.” Your tone was clear, a complete 180 to how you’d just been so flustered.

Connor was clearly taken aback, unsure of how to even approach the new situation he’d just landed himself in.

“You come in here being all sweet, buying me roses, taking me to lunch, and now? Now you’re walking in looking like a walking, talking wet dream and I’m simply supposed to keep my cool while you sit right next to me for the next ten hours?” You held a hand up as Connor opened his mouth to respond.

“You are the embodiment of everything I want, Connor. So excuse me for being quite distracted at how gorgeous you look today.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest as your little moment began to sink in.

Connor was shocked that you’d like him, he knew he liked you, anyone with eyes could see it, but knowing you liked him as more than a friend? Well, it was a little surprising for him. Maybe driving the Harley in was the best idea he’d had in years.

“Well, if that’s the case. Can I take you on a date? A proper one that doesn’t involve us getting soaked with rain?” Connor felt hopeful, what’s the worst that could happen? You both already liked one another.

“Find a place where we can both have dinner, and it’s a date.” You smiled at him, standing up from his desk and leaving the tablet on the smooth surface.

Connor knew he’d need to spend a few minutes of his lunch finding a nicer restaurant, and couldn't have a repeat of the last time you two had gone out together. Even if it was a nice time, getting drenched from the rain was never fun.

As everyone worked it was almost as if a lightbulb popped up above his head.

He’d taken Hank's advice twice and had it almost end in full disaster both times, and the one time he just did things naturally it all worked out. Maybe he should just listen to his own mind every now and then.

Yeah, that sounded like a much better plan.

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 7: SHOULD EVERY RABID DOG GET ITS TAIL DOCKED UP TO THE EARS?

synopsis: you, connor, and hank deal with deviants in the eden club. connor spurs on another uncomfortable conversation near the detroit river.

word count: 4.4k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: sorry for the late update insurance is kicking my ASS about the accident i was just in.. like it's my first one bro why y'all hounding me like that 😭😭

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

It’s impossible to ignore the bright pink neon sign advertising the Eden Club and the dull thrum of EDM coming from inside. You slowly pull up to the side of the street and park, looking out the passenger window at the club’s entrance.

“Aw…” Hank mumbles from the passenger seat. “Feels like someone’s playin’ with a drill inside my skull.”

He looks at the entrance. You can tell his head is throbbing doubly just from the bright colors. “You sure this is the place?”

“It’s the address on the report,” Connor answers from the backseat.

You lean over and look at the glove box. “Don’t you have Ibuprofen in there? Or some type of pain medication?”

“Yeah, I think,” Hank grumbles. He pops open the glove box and fishes out a pill bottle. He shakes out two and swallows them dry.

You turn off the ignition and sigh softly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hank gets out (hitting his head on the roof of the car in the process), and you and Connor follow. He leads the way into the club entrance, where the lights pulse in soft, erotic colors. 

“Sexiest androids in town,” Hank reads off a TV in the entry hall, then glances at Connor. “Now I see why you insisted on coming here!”

“I was not programmed with a sex drive, or any other types of ‘desires,’ Lieutenant,” Connor says. “It could possibly distract me from the investigation if I did.”

You almost say, ‘Aw, really?’ out loud, but bite your tongue at the last second. Instead, you move forward into the club. 

Androids are littered about, moving sensually and palming themselves on poles and inside the tubes that line the walls. It turns your stomach – they’re beings (or, rather, things) created just to drown in the crashing wave that is human sex and desire. They fall and hurt and break and are thrown away to move onto the next. You keep your eyes on the floor and press on.

“Which room is it?” You ask, your eyes flitting to the doors and keeping them off the androids.

“The only one that says ‘Occupied,’” Officer Collins says. “And, uh – be warned. Gavin’s in there, too.”

“Oh, great,” Hank groans. “A dead body and an asshole, just what I needed.”

You follow Hank into the private room, taking it in. A naked corpse lays on the circular bed, made decent by the faux-silk blanket covering it. A deactivated android lays to the side, Thirium staining her otherwise perfect face.

“Lieutenant Anderson, Comrade Commie, and their little plastic pet,” Gavin sneers. “The fuck are you three doin’ here?”

“We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids,” Connor says as he surveys the room.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re wasting your time.” Gavin gestures to the corpse. “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle.”

He laughs, then looks to Chris as if to confirm what he just said was funny. Chris isn’t laughing, if that’s any indication. 

Hank gives a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll have a look anyway, if you don’t mind.”

“C’mon, let’s go.” Gavin walks past Hank, giving him a dirty look. “It’s, uh… starting to stink of booze, and…” he looks over at you. “The loss of private property.”

He gives Connor a way-too-forceful shoulder-check on the way out. The too-sympathetic part of you is worried Gavin hurt his own shoulder, but you stomp the thought down as soon as you think it.

Chris gives all of you a smile that says ‘I’m so fucking sorry you’re here.’ “Night, Lieutenant. Night, Officer.”

“Goodnight, Chris,” you say. “Please say goodnight to Damian for me.”

“He doesn’t even have object permanence yet,” Chris laughs. “But I will.” The door closes behind him as he leaves. 

You start looking closer at the room as Connor makes a beeline for the deactivated android. You kneel by the corpse.

“You sure you’re good to be that close to it?” Hank says from beside you. 

“I’m getting used to corpses.” You look up at him. “As horrible as that is.”

Hank huffs out a laugh and looks over at Connor. A look of horror crosses his face. “Whoa – hey-hey-hey!”

You look over at Connor. He’s holding up two fingers to his mouth, Thirium dripping down the length of them. 

“Augh, Connor,” Hank groans. “You’re so disgusting… Think I’m gonna puke again.”

“Connor, you told us you would warn us!” You whine.

“I apologize,” Connor says. He then stands and moves over to kneel next to you, his eyes on the corpse. His LED flickers yellow as he observes the bruising on the corpse’s neck. 

“He didn’t die of a heart attack,” Connor says. “He was strangled.”

“Yeah, I saw the bruising on the neck,” Hank says from the other side of the room. “Doesn’t prove anything, though. Could’ve been rough play.”

“I don’t think so,” you say. You lean forward, careful not to get too close. “Kink choking is when you squeeze the sides of someone’s neck to emulate the feeling of being choked. The bruises make it look like his windpipe was crushed deliberately.” 

You pause, then scratch your cheek. “Don’t ask how I know that.”

“I won’t.” Hank shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t want to stunt a homicide detective in the making.”

Connor stands. “We’re missing something here.”

You look over your shoulder at the dead android. Connor follows your eyes and moves over to her, then kneels by her side.

“Think you can read the android’s memory?” Hank asks. “Maybe you can see what happened.”

The skin on Connor’s fingers peel back and he puts his first two fingers on the deactivated android’s wrist. “I don’t know. Some of its inner components are damaged, and I can’t access them.”

You move so you’re kneeling next to Connor. You hold out your left hand then extend your thumb and index finger, and your world again turns into monochrome-blues. Two pieces of information pop up in the corner of your eye as you observe the highlighted parts of the android: Selector #5402 Critically Damaged. Biocomponent #6970 Critically Damaged.

“Let me try something.” You press gently on her stomach and slide the plastic of her abdomen open. You grunt as you force your left hand in and reach into her upper chest, feeling around for what you need. “Ah! I found it. Two seconds…”

You can feel the wires from your glove snake out. They poke and prod and eventually jack into a port.

Information flickers into your view, and you glance over it quickly. “She’s badly damaged. If I can pull this off, she’ll only be alive for a minute. Maybe less.”

“Do it,” Connor says. 

You twitch your fingers and the wires spin the port. It clicks into place, and she rises with an unneeded, artificial gasp of air. She tries to scramble away, but your arm is still lodged in her abdomen. 

“Эй – Эй!” You shout. “Let me get my hand.”

When she stills, you carefully disconnect the wires and extract your hand. She crawls away backwards until her back hits the wall. 

Connor approaches her, ever calm and soothing. He crouches, making sure to stay on her level. “Calm down. Everything’s alright. All we want is to know what happened.”

“Is he…” She looks over at the corpse. “Is he dead?”

“Tell me what happened,” Connor repeats. 

She looks over at Connor, then away. “He started… hitting me. Again, and again.”

“Did you kill him?” Connor asks.

“No!” She responds, almost incredulous. “No, it wasn’t me.”

“Were you alone in the room?” Connor pressures, talking quicker. “Was there anyone else with you?”

“H-he wanted to play with two girls,” she says. “That’s what he said. There were two of us.”

“What model was the other android?” Connor moves closer. “Did it look like you?”

Her mouth opens and her eyes unfocus. Her face relaxes and stills in a perpetual death mask. 

You look down at your hand. It’s stained with her Thirium. You clench your hand into a fist, then wipe it off on your jeans. Connor stands with an exhale of something that sounds like frustration.

“So there was another android,” Hank says. “This happened over an hour ago. It’s probably long gone.”

“No.” Connor gestures to the deactivated android. “It couldn’t go out dressed like that unnoticed. It might still be here.”

You stand and sigh. “There are too many богом забытых androids in this place. How are we going to find the deviant?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Hank sighs. “Maybe an eyewitness? Somebody who saw it leaving the room.”

He moves closer to the door. “I’m gonna go ask the manager a few questions about what he saw. Let me know if either of you think of anything.”

You look down at the deactivated android and hear the door close behind Hank. Her face still holds that expression of ever-lasting fear. 

“Are you okay, Officer?” Connor asks from somewhere behind you. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I… She was… scared. I feel bad for her. She didn’t do anything wrong.” You look over your shoulder at the corpse. “He did.”

“It’ll be okay,” Connor says. “We’ll figure this case out. Its deactivation will serve a purpose.”

You look over at him. He almost looks concerned for you. But you know better. It’s just his social relations program doing the work and his voice and expression expediting it.

You turn your eyes away and walk towards the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

The door opens automatically and shuts once Connor goes through it behind you. You step to the side and observe the lobby. The androids continue moving in erotic and tempting ways, completely unfazed by the corpse in the next room.

You move over to where Hank’s standing, talking to the manager, who looks more sleazy than words can describe. 

“Nah, I didn’t know him,” the manager says. “He came in maybe two, three times. I mean, these guys, they don’t really talk very much, y’know? They come in, do their business, and then go on their way.”

“You ever had any trouble with androids before?” Hank asks. 

“No way!” Then, the manager thinks for a second. “Well… once. We lost a model two, three months back. Ah, same model. Just vanished – we never found out what happened.”

Your eyes glance over the androids dancing on poles. “What kind of kinks are the androids programmed with? Anything to do with receiving impact play?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the manager says. “Some of them. We have specialized models with higher durability and all that.”

“And the one that…?” You nod your head towards the closed door. 

“Nah.” The manager shakes his head. “It was just a regular model.”

Connor comes over from your left. “Excuse me, Officer. Can you come here a second?”

“Did you find something?” You ask. 

“Maybe.” He turns on his heel and walks away. He comes to a stop beside a tube holding an android. “Can you rent this Traci?”

“Какого хуя?” You turn to look at Connor. “You just said you don’t have a sex drive. If this is a joke, it’s really weird.”

Connor catches your arm as you start to walk away. “Please, Officer! Just trust me.”

There’s a look in his puppy dog eyes that wrenches your heart. He almost looks like he’s begging. 

You roll your eyes and shake free from his grasp. With a few grumbles in Russian, you press a few buttons on the interface. 

“Hello,” a female voice chimes. “A thirty minute session costs $29.99. Please confirm your purchase.”

You glance over at Connor as you press your palm against the interface. “When Fowler inevitably asks why this is on my expense account, you better vouch for me.”

“Purchase confirmed!” The voice chimes again. “Eden Club wishes you a pleasant experience.”

The android steps out of the tube and takes your arm in both hands, her touch feather-light and sensual. Her skin shimmers with glitter, just barely visible in the low light. “Delighted to meet you.”

She looks over at Connor. One of her hands leaves your arm to take his hand. “I’m so glad to be playing with two. Follow me, I’ll show you to our room.”

“Чего?!” You take your arm away. “No, no. This isn’t a threesome! What are you talking about? Connor!”

Connor takes the Traci’s arm, his skin peeling back. Her face tenses as she stares, paralyzed, into Connor’s eyes.

After a second, he disconnects and turns back to you. “It saw something!”

“What are you talking about?” You look over at the Traci. She looks just as confused as you. “Saw what?”

“The deviant leave the room. A blue-haired Traci.” A look of panic crosses Connor’s face. “Club policy is to wipe the android’s memory every two hours. We only have a few minutes if we wanna find another witness!”

And so, you trail after Connor, renting and promptly ignoring sex-bots. Hank follows both of you with an amused look on his face. In your mind, you count up the amount of money you’ll have to beg Fowler to excuse – somewhere above a hundred dollars, all spent within the same five minutes at the same sex club.

“I know where it went!” Connor says as he disconnects from yet another android. “Follow me.”

“Fuckin’ ay,” Hank grumbles. “This is crazy…!”

Connor leads the way into a staff door and through a maintenance hallway. When he reaches the end of the hall, Hank stops him. 

“I’ll take it from here.” He pushes Connor behind him, and Connor subsequently pushes you behind himself.

Hank draws his gun and opens the door, revealing a small back-room warehouse. It’s dimly lit, and littered with androids in standby mode. (It’s honestly really creepy. Like mannequins, but worse, somehow.)

When Hank deems it clear, you step down the stairs after Connor. Something on the wall catches your eye – graffiti, reading rA9. 

You point at it. “rA9. It’s spreading.”

“Huh,” Hank hums. “Maybe it’s something in their programming.”

Suddenly, there’s a crash from somewhere behind you. You turn just in time to see Connor be tackled to the floor by an android. 

Hank is quicker with his reaction time and pulls his gun again, shouting “Don’t move!”

But he’s quickly ambushed by another android. Before you can think, your feet carry you over to defend him. You wrench her off Hank and earn an elbow to your barely-healing nose.

“Блядь!” You stumble back, cradling your nose that’s starting to bleed again. Your eyes water, and you desperately try to blink the tears away. 

When your vision clears, you see Connor and one of the girls barrel out of the open garage door and into the back alley. The blue-haired Traci scrambles after her, grabbing the other girl’s hand and helping her up. 

You run and grab Connor’s arm to help him up, almost slipping on the wet concrete. Hank comes soon after, but is thwarted when both androids knock him down. You can hear the metal sound of a gun scraping against the ground. 

“Quick!” Hank shouts. “They’re getting away!”

Connor shoots after them, pulling one of the girls down from the chain link fence they were both climbing. They immediately fight back, sending Connor into the wall. He grapples against them, but loses his grip as he falls to the concrete.

“Hank’s gun!” You yell. “Get his gun!”

Connor does as he’s told and gets up on one knee, pointing the gun at one of the girls. In a split second, his grip falters and she delivers a stiletto to his face.

He falls back, then stands. He doesn’t make a move for the gun. 

You come to stand next to Connor, putting a hand out to stop him from coming any closer to them. “You killed him, yes? Why did you do it?”

Traci pauses for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “When that man broke the other Traci, I knew I was next.” She looks away, then her gaze steels and returns to yours. “I was so scared… I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t.”

“So you defended yourself?” You ask.

“I… I didn’t mean to kill him,” she says. “I just wanted to stay alive. To get back to the one I love.”

The other android reaches forward and intertwines her fingers with Traci’s. They share a glance, both of their expressions filled with love and adoration for one another.

“I wanted her to hold me in her arms again,” Traci says. “Make me forget about the humans… their smell of sweat and their dirty words.”

You so desperately want to ask a million questions about their deviation, but bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for curiosity and interrogations. 

You stay silent as the girls climb the fence and disappear around the corner. Somehow, the rain that’s beating down on your shoulders feels lighter and warmer. It’s a nice summer drizzle instead of an autumn downpour. 

“It’s probably better this way,” Hank says quietly. He turns and starts walking back into the warehouse.

You grab Connor’s arm, causing him to look over at you. “You did the right thing. To try to exterminate every deviant is like… like dragging water through a sieve. Letting two go isn’t failing your mission completely.”

Connor nods, then looks at the corner where the two girls disappeared. His eyes turn to the ground and his eyebrows crease. “I know.”

You shift in the passenger seat, slumping until your knees hit the glove box. The music Hank put on is still raging along, a mess of electric guitars and drums and screamo vocals. At least your nose has stopped bleeding.

“Does he do this frequently?” Connor asks from the backseat. 

“Too frequently,” you mumble. “I’m tempted to put a tracker in his boot, but I know every time I lose him I’ll just find him here.”

And, of course, ‘here’ is a public playground. Hank’s in his favorite spot – on a bench facing the Detroit River. 

“I’m going to check on him.” You sit up and glance back at Connor. “Give me two minutes. He’s… I just need to talk to him. Alone. Okay?”

“Okay,” Connor says. 

You get out of the car, closing the door behind you. You move over to the bench that Hank’s sitting on the back of. Snow crunches under your shoes as you walk.

You sit down on the bench properly and sigh, running your hands along your thighs. “Hank.”

He says your name in response, avoiding your eyes and looking down at his bottle of whiskey.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you say softly. “It… I’m… боже. You’re slowly killing yourself, but you’re slowly killing me, too. Death isn’t something you’re meant to anticipate. We’re supposed to believe that the disease will skip over us, that the bullet will clip our ear instead of finding a home in our head. Old age is a long affair, so we don’t have to think about that. But…”

You look up at him. He’s not looking at you. “I can’t count the number of times I thought you died, Hank – the most recent one being earlier this evening. You play with guns and liquor and your life like… like they’re toys!”

You look out at the river. “You get sad, Hank. And angry. Too sad, too angry. Most people can’t get that sad. It’s impossible to watch because other people get sad, too, but… not like you. You’ve been down and out and on a bender for three years. You’ve gotten violent. Not against me – never against another person. But you’ve started beating yourself. And it’s so fucking gut-wrenching to watch you be… be this.”

There’s the sound of a car door opening and closing behind you. 

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” you say softly. “I won’t forget about this.”

You look to your left and see Connor coming to a stop beside the bench. He’s looking out across the river, at the lights of the buildings on the opposite shore. 

“Nice view, huh?” Hank mumbles. “We used to come here a lot before…”

Your eyes fall to the snow-covered ground as you feel a familiar pang in your chest. You swallow thickly and try to ignore it.

“Before what?” Connor asks.

Hank looks over at him. “Hm?”

“You said ‘I used to come here a lot before.’” Connor looks over at Hank. “Before what?”

“Before…” Hank looks down at you, then out at the river. “Before nothin’.”

Connor crosses his arms, like he’s protecting himself against the cold. “Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”

“Do all androids ask so many personal questions?” Hank asks. “Or is it just you?”

“I saw a photo of a child on your kitchen table,” Connor says. You tense as he continues. “It was your son, right?”

Hank glances at you. “Yeah… his name was Cole.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over all of you. You listen to the river lazily move along, quiet waves just barely making sounds. Your eyes flit up as Connor walks in front of the bench, facing out towards the water.

“We’re not making any progress on this investigation,” Connor says. “The deviants have nothing in common. They’re all different models, produced at different times, at different places…”

“Well, there must be some link,” Hank says.

“There is,” you say. “All of them have been in the presence of or victim of violent behavior. And all of them have expressed some worship or reverence of rA9.”

“That’s true.” Connor turns to face you and Hank. “It’s almost like some kind of… myth. Or superstition, like you said. Something they invented that wasn’t a part of their original program.”

“Androids believing in God,” Hank mumbles against the lip of his bottle. “Fuck, what’s this world coming to?”

“You seem… preoccupied, Lieutenant.” Connor walks forward a few paces, looking at Hank. “Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?”

“Those two girls…” Hank looks down at the ground. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed… in love.”

“You seem troubled, Lieutenant.” 

You look up and see that Connor’s come closer. His hair and blazer are speckled with snow. From this distance, you can see the few freckles that dot his face. He almost looks real like this – like a real man. Not a machine made of plastic and metal.

“It’s ironic,” Connor says. “I didn’t think machines could have such an effect on you.”

Hank exhales sharply and takes a swig of whiskey. “What about you, Connor?”

He gets up and takes a few steps towards Connor. “You look human. You sound human. But what are you, really?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant.” Connor looks at you, but continues talking to Hank. “Your other partner. Your second buddy to drink with.” His eyes return to Hank. “Or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task.”

“You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t.” Hank shoves Connor, who stumbles back. “Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?”

You stand from the bench. “Hank.” There’s a silent warning in your voice.

“Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?” Hank moves closer to Connor.

Connor’s foot shifts, like he was about to take a step back, but stopped at the last moment. “No! I just… decided not to shoot. That’s all.”

Hank reaches into his waistband and pulls out his revolver. You automatically move forward, reaching a hand out. 

“Hank, think about this,” you say, even and slow. 

He glances over his shoulder, then promptly ignores you in favor of staring down Connor through the sights of his gun. “Are you afraid to die, Connor?”

Connor’s mouth opens, and he hesitates before he actually speaks. “I would certainly find it regrettable to be…” he pauses. “Interrupted before I can finish this investigation.”

“What’ll happen if I pull this trigger? Hm?” Hank tilts his head to the side in a taunting way. “Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”

Connor steps forward, his forehead pressing against the muzzle of the gun. Your heart leaps into your throat. “Connor!”

“You know you’re not going to shoot me, Lieutenant,” Connor says evenly. His eyes never leave Hank’s. “You’re just trying to provoke a reaction. I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

“You think you’re so fucking smart,” Hank grinds out. “Always one step ahead, huh? Tell me this, smartass: how do I know you’re not a deviant?”

“I self-test regularly,” Connor says. “I know what I am, and what I am not.”

Hank’s lips draw back in a snarl before he yanks the gun away from Connor’s forehead. You let out a shaky breath as Hank storms off, digging his car keys out of his pocket. 

“Where are you going?” Connor calls after him. 

“To get drunker,” Hank says. “I need to think.”

You sit back down on the bench, resting your head in shaking hands. “Господи, блять, боже…”

“Are you okay, Officer?” Connor asks. It seems that’s the most frequent question he asks you as of late. 

“No!” You snap, your fingers digging into your scalp. “What the fuck is happening? I can’t wrap my head around how I was stuck with two of the stupidest detectives on the face of this very Earth!”

You stand and move over to Connor, grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell were you thinking? You know how… how he is! If you had faltered one more time before this, he would’ve shot you! You know that, right?”

“If he shot me, another Connor model would’ve been deployed,” Connor says evenly. 

“I don’t want another Connor model!” You bark. “I want…”

You. I want you. The message rings in the cold air, loud yet unsaid. It’s not an I want you in a sexual or romantic manner: it’s an I want you as in I want you to be safe. I want you out of harm’s way, even if you keep putting yourself in it. I want you to be behind me when the gunshots of revolution sound.

You take a step back and let Connor go. “I need to think.”

“Do you need me to accompany you?” He asks. 

“No,” you say. “I just… I need to be alone right now.”

You turn and start walking away. Snow crunches under your shoes with every footfall. Connor stays perfectly still where you left him, dried Thirium from your left hand staining the right shoulder of his blazer.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 9: Freelancer

Ao3 | 5.8k Words | Freelancer’s POV

Freelancer’s last three Thanksgivings. Sunshine comes back to life. Caelum is traumatized. Gavin is no longer a prostitute. Darlin’ is also traumatized.

TW: discussions of child abuse, disordered eating habits, and sexual assault.

It was the week before your first Thanksgiving in medical school and you were standing in the morgue at Dahlia General hospital and watching a tall, handsome doctor cut into a corpse like it was an act of love. Dr. Brachium was a looker to put it mildly. You weren’t small by any means, but he hit six feet with ease. His lithe frame fell in his scrubs and drapings like his body was built specifically for medical gear to smother it. His hair was jet black and long enough he had to pin it back in a braid under his scrub cap. He was working with cadavers, not living patients, so he didn’t have to wear a mask. You preferred that, because it let you get a good look at his full lips as they quirked through soft smiles, crinkling his mono-lidded eyes handsomely as he explained how to remove and weigh the major organs as one performed an autopsy. 

This was the process, your instructors insisted. You started with theoretics, diagrams, textbooks, that sort of thing. Then, you moved on to other mammals. You dissected pigs and cats, noted that the variety that the living body was capable of made your diagrams and textbooks functionally useless for anything besides casual reference. You watched videos of surgery, practiced stitches on fruit and pig skin. Then, you watched autopsies. You watched handsome doctors like Brachium cut open mothers and brothers and daughters and struggled to find the energy to remember the person that used to inhabit the cadaver under your careful scrutiny.

Dr. Brachium spoke quietly, as though afraid to wake up the smattering of corpses laid out on tables in his pristine, freezing morgue. Eight odd students gathered around his table, just the dedicated bunch that had signed up for his late night lab slot instead of going home to their fucking families for the holidays. This was more important than a family dinner, you insisted to yourself, and your mother was far more satisfied with your performance at school than she would be with your lackluster stuffing. So, despite Lasko’s insistence that students in rigorous courses like yours did much better when they took adequate breaks, you were staying in Dahlia for your week off. He was a good advisor, and he understood a lot, but he didn’t understand this. He couldn’t. 

“That’s the last of it.” Dr. Brachium held his cadaver’s heart in his hands, still and blue. “If you look here, we can see that Mr. Swanson did indeed die of heart failure. See the pericardial fat surrounding his arteries? It was unfortunately only a matter of time. He would have been in considerable chest pain for a few weeks proceeding the cardiac arrest that eventually killed him. Should any of you become internal medicine doctors, please emphasize that your patients should always take chest pains seriously.” 

He placed the heart in the shining, metal scale, read the weight aloud for his record and carefully placed each organ inside a plastic biowaste bag, then the bag back inside the now empty body cavity. 

“If you’re on the surgical path, you’d be doing a lot of this. When you’re working with live patients, you’ll take the time to carefully arrange the organs. The body knows where they should go and will make any minor adjustments that need to be made, but the healing process can be hindered if you just… throw things in there.” He crinkled up his nose like it was a cute joke. You couldn’t help the smile that snuck onto your lips. 

The swinging double doors to the morgue opened as two doctors in white coats and light green scrubs pushed in a gurney. The small frame strapped down on it was covered in a white sheet, the kind that was meant to be waterproof but held on to blood anyway. It was dotted with red like a Halloween decoration. 

The interns ignored the eight of you and instead turned to Dr. Brachium, handing him a chart as they stripped down the trauma gloves they had been wearing. This one must have been fresh out of the trauma bay. Finally, something more interesting than a morbid heart disease. You might actually get to practice some trauma medicine before they put this one on ice. 

Brachium thanked the interns by name, something that made you feel strangely fond, and sent them back up to the emergency room. He read the chart carefully, shaking his head, a pinch of pity between his full brows. 

“That’s a shame.” He tutted. “A car accident. And so young…” he looked genuinely grieved as he handed the chart to the student closest to him, another surgical hopeful named Kody you’d had a few classes with. Kody read the chart ravenously, his eyes wide, his face breaking out into a grin. You didn’t know how Dr. Brachium managed to grieve over every body in his morgue, but your stomach flipped when you realized you felt closer to Kody’s blind giddiness at the body’s learning potential. The two of you had a similar hunger. 

Brachium pulled the sheet back, revealing a charming baby face and styled pixie cut, hair meant to stick up in this place and that very intentionally. Instead, carved bangs were matted to the corpse’s forehead with dried, blackened blood. There was a large cut across their forehead, and when you leaned in closer to get a better look, you realized it was actually a skull fracture. You starred for so long you thought you could see their pinkish, shivering brain matter. 

That was impossible, of course. Once the brain stopped functioning it changed color, from healthy pink and gray to blueish-green. You were seeing things. 

Brachium cut away their torn clothes, revealing a sizable laceration in their stomach. He prodded around it with his gloved hands, noting the organ damage and oozing, dark blood that sprouted from the cuts in their liver. 

“This was a catastrophic crash.” Brachium shook his head. One hand landed on the corpse’s head stroking the stray hair out of their closed eyes. “Oh, little one. We don’t even know your name.” 

“How does that work?” You asked. That wasn’t actually going to be part of your job, identifying corpses, but you felt compelled to ask anyway. You felt suddenly self conscious as Brachium’s attention shifted to you. “Like… how do we figure it out? When there’s a body with no ID, I mean.” 

“There are a few ways.” Brachium nodded. He considered you for a moment before his face softened and he continued. “The police are likely still clearing the scene, and since they were driving, there is most probably a driver’s license somewhere in the vehicle. This laceration-” he waved his hand over the cut, “-was caused by the driver’s side door of the car. Look here, at the particles left in the skin.” You leaned in close, your face inches from their still-warm body. 

“Their car was blue.” You found yourself murmuring. Brachium nodded. 

“They would have had to be cut out. The car is a mess, so it might take a while to find everything we need from it. If that fails, then we move on to fingerprints, then dental records. Most people are identifiable. Most people have people who are looking for them. It is very rare for bodies to go unclaimed.” 

“Can we…” Kody gestured towards the corpse, seeming impatient with his arms crossed. Brachium broke his concentration on you and turned towards your classmate. 

“The dead are in no rush, friend.” He said softly. “We have time for any questions anybody has.” 

Your mouth clicked shut and you leaned back, embarrassment burning across your cheeks. Brachium watched, his face closing off, as you pulled away. 

You watched intently, silently, as Dr. Brachium prepared the body for the autopsy. He straightened out the gangly limbs, arranged its broken form into something resembling order, and muttered quietly as he brushed dried blood and debris from its face. Kody stepped up to stand next to you, and everytime Brachium made a soft comment, called the corpse a sweet name, said something as though to comfort it, Kody snickered softly, under his breath, where only the two of you could hear. 

You watched, your eyes on their oozing wounds, waiting for the blood flow to stop. Eventually, the pressure in the chest cavity would let up and the blood would stop. Eventually… 

You moved back around the table, towards the head. You bent at your middle, crinkling the trauma gown that had been draped over your street clothes. Your sneakers squeaked over the tile floor. You bent down and inspected the skull fracture again. By this time, the brain should have gone necrotic. You wanted to see it for yourself. 

The exposed section of their brain shone up at you under the bright, morgue lights, still pink, still twitching. 

“Wait!” You cried, as Brachium raised his scalpel to cut into their chest. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to you. You froze suddenly under the attention, your body going cold. If you were wrong, this was going to be so fucking embarrassing. If you were right, though…

“What is it?” Brachium set his scalpel down and circled the table to stand next to you. You raised a shaking, gloved finger to the skull fracture. 

“Their brain…” you breathed, afraid that if you broke the silence that had fallen over the room, whatever life was left in them would slip away. Brachium gasped, bent closer, and then reared back. He reached blindly for the controls under the table and lowered it quickly. 

“Compressions.” He told you sternly as he stripped his gloves off and reached for two new pairs. “You-” he waved to one of your classmates, Elena, you thought, “-that big button on the wall, press it. And you-” he pointed to Kody as he slipped his new gloves on, “-just outside the door there’s a crash cart. Bring it in now.” 

“What’s happening?” Another classmate called from the back of the group. 

“They’re alive.” Brachium said. The morgue descended into chaos. 

It took fifteen minutes for more doctors to arrive, even as the Code Blue blared around the echoing space. Whoever was in charge of the alarm system turned it off at one point. Brachium had looked up, panic flashing over his eyes and ordered Elena to hit the alarm again. 

You knew how to give chest compressions. You’d been certified since you were in high school, when you’d taken every medical-adjacent course your school had to offer. It felt different on a body than it had on the dummy they gave you to practice on. You felt the corpse’s- the patient’s- ribs crack and give under your relentless movements. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Dr. Brachium intubated, slid a tude down their throat. Their hand, which had laid limp and lifeless on the slab a few minutes before, trailed up to grab at his wrist. He took it in his own and held it as he pumped the blue AMBU bag, breathing for them, in the other. 

“How does this happen?” Kody asked after retrieving the crash cart. He attached the sensors to the portable heart monitor around your hands. “Aren’t they supposed to check things like this before they even get to the ER?”

“Yes.” Brachium muttered, still whispering sweet encouragement to the patient as he worked. “They are.” 

Eventually, interns arrived, walking casually, seeming to think that this was a false alarm. You couldn’t imagine that the morgue called codes all that often, so you could hardly blame them for assuming it was an accident. As soon as they saw you and your shaking, spent arms pounding into your patient, they sprung into action. 

“Why didn’t they receive a head CT?” Brachium snapped, his voice turning sour and harsh for the first time since you’d met him a few hours ago. The two interns that had brought your patient down in the first place went pale and shared an alarmed look. 

“The paramedics said-” one started, but Dr. Brachium cut them off as somebody took over the AMBU bag for him. Somebody else pushed you out of the way and continued your compressions with renewed force. You stumbled back, a hand wrapping around your back to support you. When you looked up, Kody smiled softly and waited for you to catch your footing. 

“I don’t care what the paramedics say!” Brachium snapped. “When you receive a patient in the ER, you run the necessary checks before bringing them to me. You never take other people’s word for it when you’re dealing with someone’s life! The minutes we wasted here could have caused irreparable damage. And it’s your names- your licenses- at the bottom of their chart. Remember that next time, if you get a next time.” 

The patient was whisked away. Brachium addressed the room quickly, dismissing the lab for the evening and offering to reschedule before the end of the semester. You tugged off the trauma gown and gloves you’d been sweating into for the last few hours. Your arms were like jelly. 

“Not you,” Brachium caught your attention before you could slip out of the building. “Stay back with me for a moment, alright my friend?” 

You nodded, sparing Kody one last glance as he tutted and turned away.

Dr. Brachium was even more of a looker when not smothered by medical dressings. His shoulders and biceps filled out his scrubs wonderfully, tapering off to a thin waist and strong legs. He pulled off his scrub cap, letting down his braid and running his fingers through his long, straight hair.

“You were an incredibly capable medical professional tonight. More so than every paramedic and doctor that put their eyes on that patient and chose not to do everything they could to ensure they were actually dead before giving up. Including me.” He ran a hand over his face, once soft and handsome and now lined with exhaustion and shame. “I beg you to stay in the field.” 

“Why didn’t the paramedics check their brain activity?” You asked softly. “Ambulances in California are required to carry EEG’s.” Brachium let out a puff of air that you thought was meant to be a laugh. 

“Ambulances funded by the state are, yes.” He nodded. “But there are private companies that run ambulance services that they contract out to the state at a fraction of the price. They have less oversight on that sort of thing and discretion to hire who they like. I imagine this was caused by a series of oversights and failures throughout the night. I only hope it doesn’t cost them brain function. That long without oxygen…” 

“I should have said something sooner.” You muttered. “I thought it was strange that they were still bleeding. And I thought I was seeing things when I saw their brain matter the first time.” 

“You’re a medical student.” Brachium said softly. “And you were functioning under the belief that the professionals around you had already confirmed within reasonable doubt that they were dead. I’ve been practicing for ten years and I didn’t notice. Please do not blame yourself for this. You saved their life.” 

You nodded even as your guts twisted up with guilt. 

You were glad that Dr. Brachium didn’t make you leave. You thought you’d be eaten alive if you didn’t get to see them again. You wanted to know their name. You wanted to know if they remembered it. 

The cops had found their license half an hour ago. They’d already told their emergency contact where he could go to claim the body. Brachium called, explained shortly that they were in fact not dead, and that he would be waiting to explain all of it when he got to the hospital.

Dr. Brachium waited with you in the lobby for him to arrive. 

You knew it was him the moment he walked in. He’d been crying for a considerable amount of time, and he was trailed by a taller man who must have driven him. You couldn’t imagine anybody who loved this man would let him drive in this state. He looked wildly around the lobby, as though he would find them here. 

“Elliott?” Brachium called. His head swiveled and he seemed to nearly collapse when he put his eyes on Brachium. 

“Please tell me what the fuck is going on.” He cried. The man with him wrapped an arm around his shoulders to steady him. 

“They’re alive, Elliott.” Brachium met them where they stood, took both of Elliott’s hands in his own. “They’re in surgery, and we won’t know more until they’re out, but they are alive.” 

Elliott did collapse then, right into Brachium and the other man’s waiting arms. 

Brachium explained everything in one of the sectioned off family rooms where they told people their loved ones were dead. He had tracked down the ambulance report while you two had waited, the names of the paramedics, the names of the interns that had called it and delivered them to him, the information of every person who had looked at them since the crash for litigation purposes. He implied strongly that Elliott should sue every person on that list for medical malpractice. That list included him, of course. 

“The only reason they’re alive right now is because of this student.” You introduced yourself stiffly, shaking Elliott’s hands awkwardly. “They were attending a lab in my morgue and noticed signs of life. If it weren’t for them, I would have overlooked them as well.” 

“They weren’t breathing?” Elliott said softly. “And their heart, it wasn’t beating?” 

“No.” Brachium shook his head. “They noticed…” he trailed off, unsure of how to put the fact that you’d seen living brain matter through the hole in their head without knocking Elliott out again. 

“I noticed brain activity.” You said simply. Elliott screwed up his brow, but eventually just shook his head. He grabbed awkwardly for your hand, his still shaking, and held it firmly. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you.” 

You left the hospital in the early hours of the morning. It was freezing, and your measly jacket didn’t do much to protect you. You shivered as you made your way across the parking lot and to the bus stop. It was a long ride home. You wondered if Gavin was free. For the first time in months, you didn’t feel bone fucking tired. You could use a distraction, whether that had anything to do with his noble profession or not. 

Something heavy and warm settled over your shoulders. You gasped and turned around, coming face to face with Kody. He’d wrapped you in his jacket, and all you could smell was the fresh, clean scent of his cologne. He smiled, his teeth long and straight, and considered you for a heavy moment before he spoke. 

“That was good work back there.” He said, his voice low and smooth. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t all that threatened by you until tonight.” 

“Oh yeah?” You replied. He crowded into your personal space, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans to fight the cold. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. His eyes had a glint to them you couldn’t place. “Come on, I'll drive you home.” 

___

Kody raped you during the first rainstorm of the following April. 

___

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Gavin said softly, straightening his sweater for the fifth time in just as many minutes. He had deep cleaned your shared apartment over the course of the last two days, gotten rid of the vast majority of his decorations (most of them were some level of explicit), and went out and bought some clothes that actually covered any amount of his skin. He looked so strange, all dressed up and wholesome in his Mr. Rogers get-up. You straightened the crisp collar of the button down under his sweater and smoothed your hand over his chest. 

“He’s gonna love you.” You said softly. “You said he was very friendly over the phone, right? It’s all gonna be fine.” 

It was the week before your last Thanksgiving in medical school, although you didn’t know that just yet, and Gavin had found out that he had a half brother two days ago. He was five-years-old and they shared a deadbeat father who refused to take custody when the poor kid’s mother finally succumbed to the cancer that had been eating her alive since just after Caelum was born. She had raised him alone. She had died at home and nobody knew until a truancy officer came to investigate why the kid had missed a week of school with no call from home. 

Caelum had lived in his mother’s house, still caring for her corpse, for a week. 

“God, he’s gonna be fucked up.” Gavin rubbed his hands over his face. “Like… traumatized. In what world am I qualified to take care of any child, let alone a traumatized one? I’m a fucking prostitute.” 

“You are not a prostitute.” You laughed. “Anymore, at least. You’re a porn star. Much more respectable.” 

“Oh right,” Gavin rolled his eyes, but it made him laugh, so you considered it a win. 

“Deep breaths.” You ordered. He obeyed, eyes closed, leaning into you. There was a knock at the apartment door. 

Caelum was a… weird child. He was sweet, that much was for certain, but he had about him a distant, subdued quality that made it seem like he was somewhere else entirely. The social worker made quick work of your introductions and bolted for the door like the place was on fire. She had a stack of manilla folders just like Caelum’s tucked under one arm. She didn’t even bother to check on all of the safety measures that the two of you had agonized over since finding out Caelum was coming. She must have done a thousand of these already today, and had a thousand more to go.

“So…” Gavin rocked on his feet, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What do you want to do, buddy?” Caelum considered this for a long moment, his eyes glazed and distant. 

“Um… I like sweet stuff.” He said, his voice quiet. Gavin’s eyes snapped up to you, panic in his features. You hadn’t thought to go buy any kid-friendly foods. All you had in the fridge was a smattering of leftovers and some of the weird probiotics Damien kept trying to get you two to take. 

“We should go get some!” You smiled, crouching down in front of him. You’d read in some article or another that it put kids at ease when you went down to their level. Caelum didn’t seem to mind either way. “How does that sound?” Caelum nodded dreamily, wringing his little hands together. 

“Great, let’s get our coats.” Gavin snagged both of yours and then turned to Caelum. “Is yours in your bag?” He gestured to the black trash bag Caelum had brought all of his worldly possessions in. You looked down at it, mostly empty, and felt your stomach flip. Where were all of his toys? His clothes? The shoes he’d outgrow in a month’s time? 

“Don’t got one.” He said softly. He didn’t look particularly upset by it, just shrugged his little shoulders in what looked suspiciously like defeat. Gavin stalled, his eyes wide but not surprised. You remembered, all of a sudden, that Gav had spent his fair share of time in the foster system. He had felt all of the things that Caelum was feeling in this moment. 

The only difference was that somebody wanted Caelum. Somebody was coming along to save him before he had to fend for himself. Nobody had done that, been that for Gavin. He was qualified to take care of this kid. He was probably the most qualified person on Earth. 

Gavin ended up wrapping Caelum in one of his coats, fur lined and cropped and considerably less practical when a grown man was wearing it. You rolled the sleeves up around his tiny arms and stuffed his chubby toddler hands into a spare pair of mittens. He looked a bit silly, bundled up in grown-up clothes. 

Your trip for sweets turned into a trip for sweets, clothes, toys, and books. As it turned out, Caelum had brought essentially nothing with him from the foster home that had held him until Gavin’s paperwork could go through. All he had was a spare pair of clothes, a bar of soap, a tooth brush, and one item from his mother’s house; a threadbare, stuffed rabbit with button eyes. It looked so old that it must have been her’s when she was a child. 

Caelum rode in the shopping cart as you walked Target’s aisles. Every item that his glassy eyes lingered on, Gavin snagged without question. By the end of your trip, you’d had to run back to the front of the store for a second cart and the total was four digits, but Gavin didn’t bat an eye. 

It was the week before your last Thanksgiving in medical school, and you finished out your day sitting cross legged on the floor of Caelum’s new bedroom working on a lab report while Gavin stuck glow-in-the-dark stars to his walls and ceiling. After stuffing him full of pizza and ice cream, Caelum had crashed hard. As you managed to coax him into a pair of his new pajamas before he was completely dead to the world, he sleepily asked if you two could stay with him while he slept. 

You indulged him. You thought you’d likely never stop indulging him. 

“We’ve gotta get a turkey.” Gavin said softly, hushed, trying not to wake him. You looked up from your screen, temples pounding. “And figure out how to make… I don’t know… stuffing? Casserole? What do you eat on Thanksgiving?” You considered it for a long moment. Your brain was so fucking scrambled from the fifteen assignments you still had due that you couldn’t conjure up a single Thanksgiving dish in your memory. 

“We’ll ask Damien.” You said, resolutely. “He knows about that kind of stuff.” 

“I’m gonna give him a good Thanksgiving.” Gavin said. He sounded so sure. “Christmas too. I don’t know what I can do for him but… I can do that.” 

You nodded, the weight of it sitting heavy in your stomach. Whatever you two were yesterday, today you were this kid’s first and last line of defense. His world had fallen apart around him over the last few years and now it was up to you two to build a new one. You didn’t know if you were capable, if you were qualified. You thought that you’d likely never know for sure. All you knew was that Caelum was here and that he needed someone. You could be someone for him. You could do that. 

___

Damien found you on the floor of your kitchen, unconscious at the end of finals week in May. He called an ambulance. You were dehydrated and malnourished. Gavin had been telling you for weeks that you needed rest. You had ignored him. 

If nothing else, this was a wonderful opportunity to watch Dahlia Gen’s state-of-the-art equipment and staff work. Dr. Brachium paid you a visit when you stayed overnight for observation.

“This isn’t sustainable for you.” He said, glancing over your chart. It had been a year since you’d last seen him. A baker’s dozen medical journals had included articles about the cadaver that came back to life in his morgue that night. He still remembered your name and theirs. 

“I don’t know how else to do it.” You said softly. You were so tired. You struggled to keep your eyes on him. 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t.” 

That sent a bolt of cold dread down your spine. 

“You’re the one who begged me to stay in the field.” You sneered. You were being hateful. You had nothing else in you to be. 

“You still can.” He cocked his head. “I think you’d make an excellent nurse or paramedic. Honestly, you’d make a great surgeon too. But if you can’t take care of yourself during med school, you won’t survive your residency.” 

“I can handle it.” You said. 

“But how much of you will be left once you’re done?” 

You didn’t have an answer for that question. 

In the early hours of the morning with Damien in the waiting room and Dr. Brachium at your bedside, you mourned your non-existent surgical career. 

“I would have been good though, huh?” You asked through quiet tears. 

“Yes.” Brachium nodded. “You would have been extraordinary.” 

___

It was the week before your first Thanksgiving at the 10-19, and you were on the way out of the door when you heard quiet, panicked voices coming from the ambulance bay.

Gavin and Caelum were at home waiting. You’d already stayed later than you intended to chatting with Asher. It would be easy to exit out of the front door instead of the back, walk around the building, and make a clean getaway to the bus stop down the street. 

Somebody gasped, another voice cursed, just on the edge of shouting. Your body froze right as you were about to retreat. 

That was your problem, you thought. You just couldn’t say ‘no’ when somebody was in need. You found signs of life. You took in kids whose fathers didn’t want them. You investigated sounds of injury and panic when you heard them at the end of a long fucking shift. You thought about Brachium’s question in that lonely room in Dahlia Gen. You’d never get ahold of all of the pieces of yourself. You were too eager to give them away. 

David and Sam were crowded around a gurney in Engine Two like they had been on the night that you’d first met Tanker. As you rounded the corner, you were struck with deja vu. They were laid out again, bruised and battered, and their eyes were distant and hazy. You were reminded of Caelum’s little five-year-old face, slack with shock and trauma. The little medical student that lived in your head started diagnosing as you took it all in. 

Bruising to both cheeks. Abrasions to the knuckles on the right hand. Unfocused eyes- head trauma or shock? Wasn’t that the one-million dollar question? 

It was a fight. Another one. You couldn’t think of another explanation. 

Tanker seemed to get into a lot of those, at least more than you’d consider a normal amount. 

“Hey,” you said softly. Sam and David both jumped, turning to face you with twin expressions of horror. 

The house was so defensive of Tank. If there was any chance they might be made vulnerable, the whole of the old guard of the 10-19 gathered up around them like a suit of armor. Somehow, Sam had become part of that armor, even though he was a newcomer too. It was moments like these that made you feel the most like an outsider. 

“Hey,” Sam replied, his face locking down. He was panicking. You could see it carved across his features. His tremor was worse than usual, and the pen light he had clutched in his hand was clinking against the metal frame of the gurney. David’s face was so red you thought his head would explode. 

“So um… want me to take a look? You two seem a little shaken up.” You said. You dropped your bag outside the ambulance and hiked up inside, pushing past Sam to get a look at Tank. “Hey, buddy.” You said to them. 

“Hey.” They replied. They seemed to be a million miles away. 

“It’s alright, Probie, I got it.” Sam tried to grab your arm, but his shake was bad enough that he couldn’t get a good enough hold. 

“You don’t.” You turned, taking the penlight from his hand. “Look, I get it. You guys can like… stand and watch or whatever. But you’re freaked out. Both of you. You can’t take care of them properly right now, so I will.” 

David cursed. Sam sat heavily on the bench. 

“Is that okay with you, Tank?” You asked, moving your hair out of the way and reaching for some gloves over their head. 

“Yeah.” They replied simply. “Doesn’t um… it doesn’t matter.” 

You bit your lip on the objections that you had building up inside of you. Of course it mattered. Of course you would listen. Of course if they said no, you would respect it. It had taken you long enough to learn that lesson yourself. That most people, people who weren’t fucking assholes, would listen when you said no. 

“Okay.” You nodded. Wounded animal mode it was. You would telegraph your movements, narrate, ask permission as much and as often as you needed to, as you could. “I want to check for a head wound first. We’ll go from there.” 

Over the course of the next twenty minutes or so, you carefully broke down what happened through the bruises on Tank’s body alone. They didn’t have to say anything at all, explain a moment of it. It was there, carved into their skin, laid out simply for you. They hit him, his high cheekbones splitting the skin over their knuckles. He hit them, right over where they’d broken their ribs. It had gone back and forth like that, brutal hit after brutal hit. There was blood dried over their right hand, but you couldn’t tell from where. It must not have been their own. 

“Not bad.” You said softly. “Lots of bruises, but no breaks that I can feel. I don’t think you have a concussion but I want to check again when you’re not in shock and you can describe your symptoms better.” 

They stared up at you. Their dark eyes reminded you of a shark, cold and deadly. 

“Thank you.” David said as you disposed of your gloves and stepped out of the bus, leaving them alone with Sam for a moment. 

“You need to be gentle with them.” You said, surprising yourself. It wasn’t often you gave orders to men like David Shaw, and your heart beat with the anxiety of it. You persisted anyway. He walked you to the back door, quiet, listening. “They’ve gone through something horrible. I don’t know what but…” you huffed, adjusted your jacket and your bag on your shoulder, “It took me weeks to say anything to anyone when my something horrible happened. So don’t push them, and when they tell you, listen.” 

David was quiet for a long moment, his face somewhere between concerned and pissed the fuck off. You liked the cut of it on his handsome features. 

“Okay.” He said, and that was it. 

It was the week before your first Thanksgiving with the 10-19, and you were sitting on the frozen bench at a bus stop, tapping furiously through the group chat and trying to organize a time for Friendsgiving. You’d be home and warm and safe in twenty minutes’ time. You had the strangest feeling that somebody was watching you.