#so long story short i remembered ill have to decide if ill let them do it again at this appt

[monsterbisexual]

feeling like im being driven to my execution (its a drs appointment)

[gretavangroupie]

Vigilance (Chapter 22 Part 2)

Word count: 18.7k

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Sam x OC

Warnings: Alcohol, Cursing, Dramatic Themes. Angst Including: Talks of Infidelity, Toxic Themes, Stalking, Arguing, Yelling, Extreme Portrayal of Sadness, Crying, Abandonment, Heartbreak, Talks of Illness, Extreme Illness, Hospitalization, Talks of Death and Dying, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Physical Violence. Talks of Pregnancy, Pregnancy Complications, Pregnancy Loss/Termination. Smut Including: Kissing, Touching, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Oral M!Receiving, Penetration, Rough Sex, Voyeurism. Fluff.

This story is a collaboration with my best pal @gretavanmoon.

SAM POV

“Is there a faster setting for these windshield wipers? Cause these things are shit.” You asked Elle as you pulled into the tiny neighborhood in Cape Cod, peering through the thick falling raindrops to see if any of the buildings looked like the one in the Air BnB photos. You’d flown into Boston and rented a car, the perfect small-town birthday getaway, all planned by your lovely Elle. 

“Oh, there it is, babe! That one on the corner. It says we can park on the street.” Elle said, pulling on the rain boots she’d ditched the minute you got in the car. 

You pulled the car up as closely as you could to the front door of the tiny old house, situated perfectly on a row of about ten others that looked just the same. “It’s so cute!” Elle muttered.

“I can’t even see it, it’s raining so hard!” You yelled over the loud drops pounding on the sunroof. “Let’s wait a second while it calms down before we take everything inside.” 

“Mmm…okay.” She complained. 

“So anxious to get inside, babe…?” You said, running your hand over the back of her head. 

“Maybe. Yes. I’ve just planned this so quickly in the last few days, thinking we were gonna be out on the road instead of getting to do something special. I just can’t believe we actually made it, is all.” She leaned back into your touch, calming her jittery and excited nerves. 

You offered her a smile. “I’m excited too, babe. I can’t believe we made it either, honestly. And thank you, for planning this. You’re the best.” You sighed, watching as the rain let up a bit. “We should be soundchecking right now.”

“I’m sorry, love. I know you’d rather be out there playing.” She relented. 

“No, no. Not rather. Not rather at all. It’s just you get yourself in this mindset to go and do something like that, it takes a long time to get yourself there. Then it just stops. But it’s okay, shit happens. Jake needs to heal more than anything. Top priority.” You said, giving her a little smile. 

“Yes. Top priority. He will be okay, babe. Just needs some time.” She said, clicking the toes of her boots together. “Ready to go in now?”

——

You’d spent the afternoon making yourselves at home in the little house, a quaint place right on the water. The air still had a wintery feeling, but it didn’t stop the place from slowing down. You’d decided to take a walk down into town once the rain turned to a drizzle, seeing what all you could find in your short stay. It was straight out of a Hallmark movie; Main Street still bustled with people and tourists even this time of year. 

You picked out a few spots you wanted to come back and visit, making mental note to remember them. Restaurants, record stores, gift shops…everything you needed in one little place. 

It had gotten fairly late, and after a tiny takeout dinner, you had retreated to the oversized couch to watch a movie as you both let the jet lag set in. 

“So tomorrow. Your birthday. You pick what we do, the whole day.” Elle said as the two of you cuddled up under a blanket when the movie was over.  

“The whole day?” You said, scratching your peach fuzz. 

“Yep. Morning into night.” 

You picked her legs up from the floor and brought them to rest in your lap, massaging her muscles. “Hmm, well I think we should start off taking a shower, and you can wash my hair with that smelly-good stuff you have…” you let your hand travel up her leg, fingers digging into her thigh. 

“Then we can walk down to that Bread & Roses place and get coffee…then spend the day just exploring, maybe go out on the boat and see the humpbacks…” your hand ghosted over the hem of her sweatpants, fingers slipping in just barely as she let her eyes bore into yours. 

“Mmmhm, then what?” She said. 

“Then we can come back and get ready for dinner, you can put on that sexy black dress I saw you put in your suitcase…” your hand snuck below her waistline now, hand grazing over her heat. She smirked hard. 

“You saw that, huh?” She asked, clicking her tongue. “That was supposed to be a surprise, Sammy.”

“It still will be, baby. You never cease to surprise me. So then we can go get some seafood, and drink too much wine…” you watched as she began to lose composure at your touch, as you slipped a digit between her folds. 

“Way too much wine…” she breathed, arching her back just a little. 

“Wayyy too much…” you agreed, allowing your hand to go to work as you maintained eye contact. 

“Then we can cuddle up right back here again, and do this again…and again and again…” you slipped your middle finger inside her as her legs fell open under the blanket, and her jaw fell slack. 

You sat still, half of you wanting to grab her and take her into the bedroom, the other half wanting to sit here and undo her, with her completely at your will. 

You watched as her hands stayed under the blanket, gripping your thigh underneath you. Her face was contorting into beautiful and blissed-out expressions as you worked, hooking your finger slowly deep inside her. “Again and again?” She panted. 

“Uh huh, as many times as you want…” you replied, moving your thumb to make tiny swirls on her sweet spot. 

“How’s that feel, baby? Feel good?” You asked her, voice low and gravely against the sound of the rain picking back up again. 

“Yeah, feels so good…”  she moaned a high pitched sound, letting you know she was enjoying herself. “But Sammy, it’s your birthday. You should be the one getting all the special treatment.”

“Eh, yeah maybe. But watching you like this…it’s it’s own special kind.” You began moving your pace a bit faster, adding another finger inside her. 

Her head tilted back as her hands gripped your leg harder, completely falling apart right here on your lap. She hummed and gasped for air, her knees opening and closing over and over. 

"Sammy, please…keep goi-"

 “We’ve got three whole days for you to treat me, baby. Right? You gonna do that for me later, too?” 

She nodded hard as her hips began to grind up into your hand. “Of course I will baby. Whatever you want. It’s all yours...” She brought her eyes to yours again, giving you a look that came straight from another world. God this woman…

You brought your face closer to hers, gritting your teeth. “You know what I want right now, Eleanor…go ahead and give it to me…” you growled in her ear. 

Seconds later she was coming undone at your words, riding out her high as you continued to move your hand in and out of her, mouthfuls of pitiful words falling from her lips. You swear you could never get enough of her like that, and you weren’t sure you would ever get tired of it. Even if you got nothing in return, just watching her fall apart at your mercy was enough. 

“Fuck Sam, that was…a welcome surprise.” She laughed, letting her arm fall over her eyes. “I like the idea of us just doing that kind of thing over and over and over again..” She sat up a bit, wrapping her arms around your neck. “What time is it?” 

You clicked your phone screen on the table. “11:49.” 

“Close enough.” She popped out from under the blanket, and dashed into the bedroom and then into the kitchen. You heard the refrigerator door open and close, and a few seconds later she was coming back into the room with a plate, with a lit candle sticking out of something on the top. 

“Happy birthday to Sammy, happy birthday toooooo Sammy…” she sang, a giant smile on her face as she held her hand in front of the flame while she walked. She set the plate down in front of you. “Make a wish, silly!” She beamed. 

You smiled hard at her, rubbing your hands together as you closed your eyes, making a scene out of making your wish. 

For the love of all that is holy, please let this discussion I’m about to have with Elle go smoothly, please don’t let her leave me, and please help her to know that she’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me…

You opened your eyes, and blew out the candle. She clapped her hands and took the candle out, bringing the plate up in front of your face. You could hardly make out what it was in the dim light of the room. 

“That smells amazing, what is that?” You asked. 

“My granny’s old recipe for homemade cinnamon rolls!” She answered, running her finger along the top of it, taking some icing and licking it off. 

“When did you make these?!” You asked. 

“When you were out running errands the other day. Here, try some…” she handed you a fork and you both dug in. 

“Holy shit, Elle. That’s the best fuckin thing I’ve ever eaten. Please marry me tomorrow.” You said with a full mouth. 

She blushed hard. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!” She laughed, sitting back onto the couch and covering herself with the blanket. You placed the plate back on the table, and laid back with her. 

You were trying your damnedest to find the right time to talk to her, tell her what you’d done. You knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, and you absolutely expected the worst. You deserved anything she threw your way, and you’d prepared yourself for her to pack her things and leave when you got back home.

But for right now, her yawns were becoming more and more frequent. And you decided it could wait until tomorrow. For now, you’d let yourself enjoy the peace of her presence, just for a little while longer. 

“Happy birthday, Sammy.” She said as she gave you the sweetest look, adoration filling her to the brim. It hurt your heart, to know that tomorrow you’d probably be breaking hers. 

——

The next morning you and Elle walked hand in hand along the beach, picking up shells as you sipped your coffees. It was chilly and breezy, and the beach wasn’t too crowded just yet. There was more rain in the forecast though, calling for heavy showers and colder temperatures all night. 

“Oh my god babe, look!” You suddenly called out, picking a shell up from the sand and bringing it over to her. “It’s abalone! This is my favorite shell!”

You both examined it, cleaning off the bits of sand to let the iridescent rainbow colors shine through. 

“Guidance.” Elle said. 

“What?” 

“These symbolize guidance, within like, relationships and love.” She went on, giving you a tiny sweet smile. “Are you looking for guidance with something, Sammy?”

Uh, fuck. Yeah, kinda. Wow. 

You shrugged, gulping down a hard swallow. “Guess it’s always cool to have a little extra help from the…ocean, hah.”

Elle giggled. “So how does 23 feel?” She asked, pushing her heavy waves behind her ear. The oversized sweater she had on was draping over her shoulder, sitting perfectly on her tiny frame. 

“Feels like 22 but cooler.” You answered, kicking through the icy water, sticking the abalone in your pocket. “How is 24?”

“It’s the best year I’ve had yet.” She smiled, always being the glass half-full type of person. 

“It has been a good year, hasn’t it?” You answered. “Except for, well, our most recent bummer. Hopefully this doesn’t set the pace for the rest of tour…”

“I hope not.” Elle went on. “You wanna walk down to the pier and get a sandwich or something?” 

The two of you made your way to get lunch, stopping at little gift shops along the way. You’d ended up underneath the pier after you ate, the air slowly getting cooler as a drizzle blew in. Elle was standing next to one of the pier beams, looking at all the clusters of barnacles stuck to the sides. 

“Elle sells sea shellllls…” you sang as you approached her. “Ew, that’s gross. What are all these things?” You asked, flicking away at some of the crusty old growths. 

“Don’t take them off! They’ll die if you remove them!” Elle swatted your hand away. 

“Shit, my bad.” You hopped back, hands up in surrender. 

“Look, babe…” she pulled her arm in front of her, gently grabbing a tiny shell from the cluster. “Ammonite…” she said, bringing it close to her face. 

“Well great, now it’s gonna die!” You complained. 

“No, this isn’t a barnacle, dummy. It’s an ammonite shell. Do you know how rare these are? And look, it’s opalized…” She said quietly, the wind blowing her hair in front of her face. 

“No, I don’t guess… how do you know all this stuff?” You inquired, truly impressed that she did. “You didn’t even grow up near the ocean…”

“I know a lot of cool things, Sammy.” She said blankly, still closely inspecting the perfect spiral shell, in pure awe that she found it. 

“Why don’t you keep it? I can make you a necklace or something out of it.” You suggested. 

“Really? Can you?” She said, finally smiling. 

“Sure. Couldn’t be too hard. Little dremel action. I’ll figure it out.” You promised her. You knew you’d give her anything in the world if it meant she’d give you that sweet smile again. 

“I’ll wear it every single day. Never take it off.” She said, slipping it in her coat pocket for safe keeping. 

“And what does the mighty ammonite shell symbolize, oh Wise Knower of All Things Ocean?” You teased. 

She rolled her eyes and laughed again. “Change. Just, change.”

——

The rain was falling heavier now, as you and Elle munched on your seafood takeout, opting to stay in with your dinner and wine instead of going out. She’d set the table nicely, lit candles and transferred all the food from the to-go boxes onto nice plates. You cracked a few windows, letting the smell of the rain mixed with the ocean air blow in slightly through the house. You were nearing the bottom of your first bottle of Chardonnay, fully intending on starting the second bottle the minute it was empty. 

“Babe, you didn’t have to put the sexy black dress on, I was just kidding.” You joked. 

She scoffed. “Of course I did, it’s your birthday. Gotta wine you, dine you, and give you a show. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?” 

You giggled. “I’m also glad you got oysters. You know what they say abou-”

“Sam. We all know. You say it every single time we eat oysters…” she rolled her eyes as she sipped her wine. 

“What? No I don’t, it’s true though…” you defended yourself. 

“I know it is.” She sighed. “That’s why I ordered them.” 

“That’s my girl…” you gave her a flirty and devilish laugh. “You’re already killing me in that dress, it’s…truly something. Hope these oysters work their fuckin’ magic…” you said. 

She stood from the table, swishing her hips from side to side, knowing she was giving you a show. “All finished, Samuel?” She asked in a sultry voice  as she leaned down low, putting her boobs in your face as she took your plate. 

“Yes…all done…” you were quickly falling into her trap, getting more turned on with every passing second just by watching her.

“I’ll do the dishes later, we’ve got other things to attend to, hm?” She said, walking back over and straddling you in the chair. She brushed your hair back, hands wrapped around your face as she took you in. Finally she connected her lips to yours, brushing her wine-soaked tongue into your mouth. Her hands wrapped around your head and your neck as she started kissing you harder, giving you immediate indication of exactly what she wanted. God, you were already so turned on, but, you were also bursting at the seams to tell her. You had to talk to her, right now.

You pulled away quickly. “Stop. Elle, stop.”

“What, babe? What’s wrong?” She said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

You began to stand the two of you up, hand in hand, walking to the couch to grab the blanket and lead her into the sunroom. The wall was nothing but big windows, a perfect view of the now stormy waves blowing up onto the beach. There was another giant couch in here, plush and white and covered with pillows. You sat down, motioning for her to join you. 

She sat, and you threw the big blanket across you again. “What is it, Sam? You’re scaring me. Is something wrong?”

“No. Well, yes. Yeah, actually.” You took a breath as you took her hands under the blanket, preparing yourself for the storm that was about to hit. The guilt was eating you alive. 

“Elle, you know I love you more than anything, anything in the entire world, right?” You prefaced, looking her directly in the eyes. 

“Yeah, I know. God Sam, what? What is it?” She asked, anxiety setting in. 

“Just let me…” you huffed, running a hand over your face. “That night, in Vegas. I, uh. I did something really bad, Elle.” You felt a lump form in your throat, watching as her eyes filled with dread. 

“After Jake left, and you got sick and went to sleep, um. Y/N and I went to smoke, and…things kind of…”

“No, Sam. No…don’t…” she said, letting go of your hands. 

You stayed steadfast in your confession. “We hooked up, Elle. Behind your backs. I did it, and…I have no excuse at all. It just… happened. And we both had immediate, immediate regret. It was the most stupid decision I’ve ever made in my life, Elle. And I can never take it back. I will never forgive myself, ever. You don’t deserve that, you never did. And I put our relationship in jeopardy. After everything we built. And I’m so, so sorry baby.” You began to cry a little, seeing the look on her face. She stayed silent. 

“I’m so sorry. I should have told you immediately after it happened. But I’m stupid, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me. Hell, ever. But I just… wanted to tell you. I couldn’t lie to you any more.” You bit your lips together as the tears fell. You felt relief, but not the good kind. 

After a few seconds of hell, she finally spoke. “Does Jake know?”

You nodded. “Yeah, he knew the night it happened. I’m so sorry Elle. They both begged me to tell you, even threatened to do it themselves. But I made them promise me they wouldn’t. It had to come from me.”

"So you lied to me, all that time. All the times we had sex…you told me you loved me, you…” she shook her head, standing from the couch. “You lied to me, Sam. For a good while, why did you-"

“I’m so sorry Elle. Yes I did, I lied to you. And I…I don’t know why I did. I guess I just, everything with Jake happened so fast, and it was so scary, and I was in a weird headspace with that, and worrying about him. And then tour got postponed, I just– I should have told you. As soon as it happened. And I apologize for making that horrible decision. It was thoughtless, Elle. And you don’t deserve that. Neither does Jake.”

She shook her head, letting everything hit her as she sat back down on the other end of the couch. She wiped away a few stray tears. “I think I need a minute. Can you…”

“Yes. Whatever you need. Just, come back to me, soon. Please Elle. Please don’t leave.” You begged, walking slowly to her and holding out your hand. She didn’t grab it. She looked away, pulling a pillow from the stack and curling her body around it, looking out the windows as the rain pounded. 

Fuck. 

What now? 

You retreated back into the kitchen, blowing out the candles and closing the windows. You kept your mind distracted and your hands occupied, cleaning up the table and doing the dishes. You cleaned the entire kitchen, wiped down the counters and even scrubbed the sink. 

She just needs a minute. Just needs some time. 

After you cleaned until there was not a thing out of place, you grabbed your acoustic from the case in the bedroom, sitting back on the couch in the living room to play a little, hoping it’d bring you some solace. 

What came out first was the Age of Machine riff that you wrote so long ago, on a rainy day just like this one. You remembered the day you played it for Jake, thinking it was just going to be something he brushed off. 

“Wait, wait…what was that? Do that again.”

“That’s fuckin' scary, Sam. God damn…let’s keep going with it.”

Your fingers plucked away as your mind raced over what had just happened. Was she crying? Should you go in there?  Then it hit you, her favorite song. 

You began to strum the first few chords of Anthem, hoping she’d hear and come back in and be ready to talk. You hummed along, remembering again when you all wrote it. How simple it was. No frills, nothing fancy. Just good guitar, simple percussion, and really powerful lyrics. 

You played for a long while, moving then into something else entirely, big foreboding bellowing sounds then tight and cheery ones, letting the thoughts running through your mind come out through your hands. Darkness fell completely in the house, and you started to worry about Elle, and if she would ever come back. 

“Sammy.” You finally heard. You popped up, turning around on the couch to face her. 

She walked over slowly, eyes puffy and red and face swollen with tears. She sat carefully on the edge of the couch as you sat up, wanting nothing more than to console her. 

“I was going to sleep with Jake that night.” She said finally. 

“Uh, yeah? You…you were?” You were caught off guard, knowing that that night had gotten really wild really fast; you knew that while you were busy with Y/N, Jake and Elle were entertaining themselves. You remembered though, not harboring much feeling about it. 

“Yes. We talked about it. We were going to…because we assumed you guys were going to, too. Well, at least I assumed…” she scooted a little closer to you as you listened. “Jake and I were…very close that night. And I even texted him and apologized for coming on too strong. But, then Josh called, and I got sick…” 

“Yeah, yeah baby that’s exactly how it went. And that’s when I made my decision.” You answered. 

“Sam, stop.” She shook her head. “I’m not mad at you, really. I’m… very disappointed. That you lied. Y/N too. My best friend, your best friend.” You nodded. “But that night was so crazy, so uninhibited, we were all, all over the place…I’m sure you were all surprised at me and Y/N taking things where we did, and that’s something else I never really talked to you about. We never…none of us ever talked it through. I guess I know why now…”

“Jake, was he…?” She asked. 

“Pissed? Yeah, unbelievably so. Elle, they aren’t together anymore. They’ve been broken up for about a month. Well, since that night. They’ve been lying to us all to keep morale up, keep things normal. But, yeah. They broke up.” You explained. 

“What?” She said. “No, fuck! God, Sam. What on earth…”

You nodded, feeling sad for them, too. 

“When I texted Jake to apologize, he didn’t tell me that. He barely even remembered he and I being so…close. Sam, if things hadn’t gotten stopped, I was…” she caught her words, shaking her head as she tried to speak. “I was going to ask your permission. I was going to see if you were going to be with Y/N. Because I was going to be with Jake.”

Hm. Okay, well. This conversation wasn’t on your bingo card for the night of your 23rd birthday. 

You leaned back on the couch. “What a fucked up situation.” You relented. “But, you aren’t mad at me? How is that even right, Elle? I cheated on you.”

“Yeah, you did. And fuck you for that, truly.” 

Deserved that. 

“Absolutely, yes. Keep cussing me out. Fight me, slap me if you want. Catch a plane and leave, go back home and pack your things, I get it. I deserve that, because I don’t deserve you, and your heart, Elle. Your big, beautiful, smart, intense and over caring heart. You’re a million times the person that I could even think about being. Just when I think I have shit figured out, you always come and knock me on my ass with something better. You make me want to be better, Elle. All the time.”

“When I’m challenged with something, anything at all, I literally ask myself, ‘What would Elle do?’ I swear to god I do that at least once a day. You inspire the ever living fuck out of me. You make me laugh, because you’re always so unapologetic about being your pure self. When you left, that first time, I swear I didn’t know how I was going to make it. You disappeared, and I was lost for so long, Elle. And when you came back, god, it was like I was whole again.” 

You held your head in your hands, listening as a low roll of thunder rumbled in the distance. You thought about Y/N, and how for the longest time, both of them took up space in your mind. Your feelings for them were the same, in love with two people at once. But then, out of nowhere, it hit you. 

You moved to Elle, taking her hands in yours. “When I picture my future, when I’m older and we slow down, or whatever. It’s always you there with me. It always has been. Watching Jake in that hospital bed, and watching him fight to breathe as they took him away, his face turning blue and purple as he reached for me, it kinda. Ah, it…” You felt tears beginning to come, now. You hadn’t told Elle about that yet. She squeezed your hands again as you pinched the bridge if your nose, pushing that visual away. 

“I watched him go through something that I should have never seen, Elle. It kinda made me realize what’s important in life, cheesy as that sounds. And later he told me that he saw nothing but Y/N’s face as he was blacking out. It made me start thinking…” you were crying hard now. “If that were me, I would see your face. I’d want to see yours. The last person I’d think about, it would be you.”

She sighed deeply as she dried your tears. “Sammy, babe…”

“I love you, Elle. Way too much. So much that it scares me, sometimes. Because…I don’t know what to do with my emotions. You make me feel a way that I’ve never ever felt before. And it’s terrifying. And I run from it. I don’t know why, but I do. Maybe that’s why I made the decision that I did that night. Because I still didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

“Admit what, Sam?”

You took her chin in your hand, bringing your face close to hers. 

“That I meant what I said when I was eating that cinnamon roll last night.” You said nervously, every nerve ending in your body on fire. 

Finally, finally, she laughed. Rolled her body back on to the couch and laughed. In absolute stitches.

 “I’m not marrying you tomorrow, Sam.”

You giggled at her display, feeling like three million pounds had been lifted from your body. You chased her, laying over top of her on the couch, bringing your faces close together as she brought you into her embrace. 

“No, not tomorrow…”

——

The storm had intensified, thunder and lightning coming every minute now. You and Elle had spent the last half hour curled up with each other, doing nothing at all but being intimate. Talking, laughing, apologizing and explaining…you let more secrets be shared with her that night than you had ever shared with her before. You got down into the roots of some things, telling her detailed stories and experiences, and letting her know how much you cared for her. 

It felt like you had reconnected with her on a cellular level, somehow, and you were thanking your lucky stars that she even was letting you sit with her. It was definitely not how you saw your night going when all of this began. Maybe blowing out that candle really worked. 

“Can I kiss you, Elle?”

The very fiber of your being felt like it had been reset, all the reasons you loved her flowing back through your body like a flooding river. The way she kissed you back, the way she touched you, felt like the very first time. You didn’t deserve this…

“I’m nervous, for some reason…”

You picked her up and carried her slowly to the bedroom, never disconnecting from her lips the entire way. You laid her gently on the old mattress, the iron bed frame squeaking as she fell. She still had her black dress on; it accentuated her curves so perfectly and was cut right at her mid thigh…she slid one strap down, pulling it to sit low on her shoulder, before pulling the whole dress down and off, revealing her black lace set. She made intense eye contact with you, bringing her knees toward her chin as she reclined on her elbows.

“Stop giving me those eyes, Eleanor…you know I can’t say no when you do that…”

“Then don’t tell me no…”

You reached down and took your boxers off, letting them fall to the floor as you inched yourself toward her on the bed. You were positively dizzy, the feeling of her skin on yours igniting you into a fire that blazed differently than it ever had before. Her mouth connected to yours in such a way that felt like you were bonded together, feeling every tiny touch and movement as if it were magnified. You were still anxious, nervous for some reason. Like you were about to sleep with her for the very first time. But she comforted you, kissed your sweet spots, walked you through learning her body again. 

“Don’t be nervous, Sammy. It’s just me…it’s okay…”

“I know, baby..but the way you touch me sometimes…god.. I swear I could love you all day, and all night for the next hundred years and I’d still never get tired of you…”

It was something brand new. She pushed you back into the pile of pillows, crawled over top of you and flipped herself around with her back to you as she straddled your lap. What a fucking view. She leaned down and connected her sweet mouth to you, licking and pulling and pushing, hands in a soft fury to prepare you for her. Your hands reached down and pulled at her hair, directing her throat to be just where you needed her without forcing her…in and out…her mouth was pure euphoria..hot and wet euphoria. 

“You not gonna touch me, Sam?”

Her free hand reached back and ran a finger along the lace barely covering her ass, pulling it to one side as she invited you to touch her. You pulled it more to one side, and her back arched hard for you, revealing her dripping entrance as she continued to close her throat around you. You brought your hand to her, feeling her wetness soak your fingers. “Mmhm…” she hummed around you, causing your dick to jump in her mouth. “Keep feeling me Sam, keep touching me like that…”

The visual was insane, the lightning like camera flashes into the room, each time burning the erotic images into your mind. Your fingers were working her, deep and slow as she hummed her lips around you, bringing you closer and closer…you were sure you’d never felt her like this ever before. 

“So gorgeous, my Eleanor…your mouth feels so fucking good baby…”

She arched more for you as her mouth popped hard off the top of your dick, the loss of contact almost bringing tears to your eyes. “Need you to fuck me into this mattress, Sam. Can you break my back, baby?”

You were putty. Melting and running all over the place. You pulled her back, disconnecting her mouth from you as you brought your tongue to her entrance, suddenly feeling the need to taste her. So fucking delicious. You let your tongue delve into her as far as it could go, reaching into her as she pushed herself backwards onto your face. 

“Fuck, Sammy…yeah…” 

She was whining as you ate her, flipping and flitting your tongue into her as the thunder rolled louder now. Right as you felt her body begin to shake, you repositioned yourself, standing high on your knees behind her as you pulled her panties to the side again, ripping them just a tad in the process. You teased her, the head of your dick begging to push all the way into her, fill her up with everything you had. 

“Do it, Sammy please…I can’t wait any longer, fuck…”

She buried her head in the bed, her hands reaching into her hair to grasp it. “Huh uh, my job…” you fisted her hair, tightening it around your hand and pulling her head back slowly, but forcefully as you slowly entered her. Thick and sticky and so ready for you, she felt like heaven. Her sounds alone were enough to get you there, so you pulled back harder. “Arch it for me baby, I know you can do it…” 

Her body was at an almost 90 degree angle as you fucked slowly and languidly into her, pushing as deeply as you could go, one hand tangled in her hair and the other pulling on her hip…giving you leverage to move her into just the right spot. She spread her legs a little, lowering herself into the bed a bit more, and allowing her to fuck back into you. 

You both were moving slowly, her body dipping low with each thrust and meeting you perfectly as you hit her g spot. “Don’t fucking stop, Sam…right…fucking…there…” she was whining, mewling and purring sounds into the air. 

“You want it harder, baby? Think you can take it?” You asked as she nodded. The thunder was clapping now as her asscheeks hit your thighs repeatedly, her muscles flowing like shockwaves with each hit. 

You pulled yourself out, earning a groan of displease from her. Hand still tangled in her hair, you stood from the bed and pulled her along with you, walking her to the wall by the bed. You gently pushed her against it, letting her cheek fall flat against the white paint. You lifted her left leg up, hitching the back of her knee in the crease of your elbow. 

“Spread for me, babe. There you go…”

And you entered her again, pushing her into the wall. She was considerably tighter like this, and the new position garnered you almost complete control. She was almost unable to move at all. But her sounds continued to fill the room…you knew she was loving it just as much as you were. 

“I’m close, baby…almost there…” she said, breathless and sweaty as you fucked up into her. 

“Hang on, go with me…I’m right there too…goddamn you’re so fucking tight…”

Your name poured from her mouth as you poured into her, bodies shaking together as you pressed your front against her, her forehead rolling against the sheetrock. When your head came back into one piece, and her body stopped jerking, you snuck your hand around in front of her, between her legs, finding her clit and immediately rubbing small circles. 

You went insane on it, flicking it from side to side as you continued to press her into the wall, your still-hard dick resting comfortably inside her. Her cries sounded almost close to tears. You kissed the back of her neck, biting into it as you felt her writhing again. 

It surprised her, the overstimulation making her shudder. Her body stiffened as you worked your middle finger over her already swollen bud, begging her to let go again. Her walls were still squeezing around you, still inside her. You almost felt like you could let go again, yourself. 

“I know you’ve got another one in there, baby. Let me have it…give it to me again…”

Her hand reached behind her and grasped your shoulder, pulling your torso against her back, fingers digging into your shoulder muscle like she was holding on for dear life. 

Within seconds she was soaking your dick all over again, her knees threatening to buckle as she doubled over. Her cries were almost pathetic, shrieking and breathless as she came again. 

“There it is, just for me…so gorgeous Eleanor…” you growled into her ear. 

When she finally came back to life, you pulled yourself out of her, but still kept a firm hold around her limp body, walking her carefully back over as you both crashed back onto the bed in pure exhaustion. 

After a few minutes, she perked up lying on her elbow, looking at you with so much love in her eyes. 

“What?” You asked, smirking as you rolled to rest on your elbow too. 

“Do you really want what you asked me while you were eating the cinnamon roll?” She peeked through one eye. Her words made your stomach drop and your mouth go dry. 

“Yeah, I do. One day, down the road. I can picture it…” you rolled over to your back, looking at the ceiling. “Three kids, maybe four. All really close in age, so they can grow up together like we did. I want to find a big house with a bunch of land, so I can have a massive garden. And a bunch of dogs. Giant kitchen with tons of windows…and all four of my pianos in different rooms. I’m gonna teach all the babies how to play every instrument that I can, whatever they want to learn. The house will be filled with music all the time. And I wanna write songs about them, and for them…that’s what I want.” You huffed a breath, looking back over to her. 

“And you know what the best part will be?” You asked. 

“Tell me.”

“That you’ll be making those cinnamon rolls for us every week…all the time…the kids will love them…” you brought yourself over to kiss her. “And they’ll love you… and I’ll love you…until we’re old and gray, baby. Until the day you tell me not to. I promise. I promise, I promise…” 

—

JAKE POV

You hear her alarm go off on her phone, startling you from your sleep. Her face turned towards you as her own eyes fluttered open. She squeezed them back shut as she reached over to snooze her phone. You smile realizing it’s another morning you’ve woken up and she’s still in bed. 

It’s warm under the sheets, you don’t blame her for not wanting to leave. If it were up to you the two of you would stay cocooned in the sheets all day. She throws her arm over her eyes blocking out the morning light, trying to get those five extra minutes. You lay there just looking at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she fights to get back to her dream.

Minutes later when her alarm sounds again, she rolls over towards it and groans, grabbing it from the charger and laying it on her chest. 

You reach your hand out and place it on her arm, “You better get moving baby, Josh will be here soon.”

“I know, but I am so tired, we stayed up too late watching last night. I fell asleep in here, again.”

“We can take a break from watching if you want to.” you offer.

“No! I mean, we don’t have to. I just need to force myself out of here.” she giggles.

“Every night I ask you if you want me to take you back in there and you say no…You say you want to stay…” you goad.

“Ugh, I know Jake, sue me…” she says, tossing the blankets off of her, and standing from the bed. 

“Don’t be like that…You know I don’t want you to anyways. Like waking up to your face.” you smile.

She steps into the bathroom and shuts the door; your signal to start the coffee before she has to leave. It had been several nights since the family dinner and each one of them was spent twisted together watching a TV show until the both of you fell asleep. At least that was your excuse for it. 

As the coffee pot started to gurgle, you grabbed a to-go mug, and waited for the pot to finish brewing. You leaned against the counter, scrolling through your phone as she stepped into the kitchen. She was in a pair of crimson colored leggings, and had on a sports bra that matched. Her hair was in a high ponytail braid down her back, resting just at the criss crossed straps of her sports bra. Shit she looked practically edible. 

She had your flannel tossed into the bag hanging from her shoulder, and her birkenstocks in her hands, dropping them to the floor to slide into them as she approached you. 

“Again, is there any type of viewing package at the yoga place.” you said, pouring the coffee into the mug.

“No, Jacob…” she says, rolling her eyes and reaching out to grab the mug from your hands. 

You look at her again, somewhat jealous that Josh gets to spend the morning with her, looking like that. Fucker. 

“I will be back after, okay?” she said, spinning on her heels.

“Hey, wait…” you asked. 

You swallowed nervously as you grabbed her free hand in yours, “You wanna go do something tonight?” 

She furrowed her brow, “Like what?” 

“Something fun, just us. Like we used to.” you offer, feeling your heart beat out of your chest. 

“Oh, like a date?” she smiles.

“Do you want it to be a date?” you ask hopefully. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” she grins, squeezing your hand. 

“Okay, yeah, then like a date.” you say, releasing her hand. 

You see Josh’s car pull up through the front door window, and look back to her, “Your ride is here…Be careful okay, check your surroundings…all of that…” 

“Okay, I will I promise and Josh is with me. But…I’m excited… for tonight.” she smiles walking down the hallway. You are right behind her, ready to close the door, but as she slips out she spins around and places a barely there kiss on your cheek. “See you later…” 

You smile as you watch her ponytail swing as she jumps into the passenger seat of Josh’s car, waving through the window as they pull away. 

—

You spend much of the morning racking your brain for ideas of what the two of you could do tonight. You’d never felt so much pressure planning a date before, but then you realized. It’s Y/N, she won’t care what you’re doing as long as it’s you she’s doing it with. You knew just what to do, and you knew she would love it.

You grab a quick shower and dig through your closet, looking for something to wear down to the studio. Today would be your first meeting back with the guys to start practicing for the South American leg of tour starting up. You were itching to get your hands back on your guitar, ready to turn the amps to one hundred and just rip for a few hours. 

Shortly after 11:00 you heard the front door open, and heard her setting her things in the hallway, kicking off her shoes.

“Jake?” she called.

“Up here!” you called out to her from the music room, checking out the strings on your guitar. 

You hear her climb up the steps and round the corner, still looking gorgeous as ever.

“I’m back…” she giggled.

“I see that.” you smile, twisting the knob on the headstock.

“You excited to go play today?” she asked, leaning against the wall. 

“Hell yeah, but you know what?” you asked.

“What?”

“I’m more excited for after…” you smiled.

“Yeah? What should I wear on my date with Mr. Jacob Kiszka this evening?” she smiles.

“Mmm…” you hum, rubbing your lips, “A dress. But bring a sweater or something.” you answer. 

“I think I can work with those requirements… I’m gonna go take a shower, but, have fun today and don’t over do it, okay?” she pleads. 

“I won’t, I won’t, promise.” you answer, sliding your guitar back into the case, and locking it. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asks.

“Not soon enough.” you smile, watching her blush and run down the stairs. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and as you pull it out you see a familiar name cross the screen.

misscarsonneely: Guitar question? I’m sure you’re never going to see this.

You smirk, it is a miracle you saw it.

You: I probably have an answer…

misscarsonneely: Wow, I can’t believe you saw this. Okay, so I have been feeling a little inspired lately and decided to put those new strings to use, but when I play it sounds…bad? Like off kind of? Maybe I just suck? Lol.

You smile and laugh, knowing exactly what the problem is. 

You: I usually never check my messages to be honest, surprised I saw it too. How about you text me instead. I’ll get you fixed up.

You send her your number and wait for her message to come through, adding the new contact to your phone.

Carson

11:23pm: Have I reached the guitar guru hotline?

You

11:24pm:  You have. So I think what you are describing is it being out of tune which happens sometimes when you put higher tension strings on. Could you maybe send me a video so I can be sure?

Carson

11:28pm: Do NOT laugh at me, it is the only song I know.

11:28pm: *Attachment*

You open the video and let it play, stifling back the laugh that escapes you when you hear ‘Cheeseburger in Paradise’ ringing out terribly through the speaker.

You

11:30pm:  Okay, yes. So the strings I put on your guitar are all I had to choose from, and they are high gauge and high tension so they are putting your guitar under a little more stress than it's used to, so it is spinning the knobs itself to release that tension and its causing your guitar to lose its tuning. It’s probably going to do that a few times until the strings are settled, so just re-tune your guitar and you should be set. Well, until next time. ;)

Carson

11:32pm: I swear I’m not an idiot. I really did tune it yesterday and it sounded fine so when I picked it up today and it sounded like that I never thought that maybe it was just out of tune. God I’m sorry I bothered you with that.

You

11:35pm: No, I know you’re not. You just aren’t used to those type of strings. Asked Sam to grab some to give to Josh, and that's probably all I had in my kit. 

Carson

11:36pm: And I appreciate it soo much. Thank you again for doing that. 

You

11:37pm: My pleasure Miss Carson, let me know if you need help with anything else.

Carson

11:38pm: Thanks Jake. Promise I won’t bug you with more stupid questions. Lol

You

11:39pm: I can assure you you’re not bugging me. Not in the slightest. 

Carson

11:40pm: Good to know ;)

You stare at the message for a bit before locking your phone and shoving it into your pocket. You grab your guitar case and make your way downstairs, grabbing your keys and heading out the door, set for the studio feeling happier than you had in weeks.

—

It felt good to be back to it. God it felt good. But it felt even better knowing you’d be back on the road soon. As much as you were enjoying your time at home with Y/N you craved to be out seeing the world. And it was even better when she was there with you. 

You started small, playing through a few songs, working your stamina back up to what it was. You had another week or two before you left for South America and you were convinced that if you just came in and did a little bit everyday, you would be back to where you were. Almost like muscle memory. 

After a particularly long jam session you checked your phone seeing that it was damn near time to leave to make it home in time to get ready for your date. 

You slung your guitar strap over your head and turned off your amp, unplugging the pick up and beginning to pack up your things. 

“Damn Jake, what lit a fire under your ass?” Sam asked. 

“I gotta get out of here. Have plans tonight.” You replied flicking your glasses down over your eyes. 

“With who…” Danny winked.  

“Your motha…” you said in your best British accent. 

“Good. Go. In fact what the fuck is taking you so long? Get outta here…” Josh said, shooing you out the door. 

You turned to the guys and offered them a quick wave as you stepped out the door ready to wine and dine your favorite girl. 

—

You stepped into the front door and deposited your guitar case against the wall, calling her name through the echoey house. 

When you heard no answer you called out again, “Y/N? Where are you my love?”

“Jake?” She said, stepping out into the hallway as she fastened her earring. You nearly stopped breathing at the sight of her. 

“Sorry babe, didn’t hear you come in!” She smiled walking over towards you. 

“Is this okay?”’she asks, running her hands over her navy blue dress nervously before looking up at you. 

“Everyday I think there’s no way you could possibly be more beautiful and everyday I wake up to just that. You look gorgeous.” You say, seeing the blush creep across her face. 

“Jake…” she whines. 

“It’s true. I’m going to change clothes and then I will be ready to go, okay? Why don’t you have a glass of wine and I’ll be out in a minute.” You say. 

She nods and flits off to the kitchen as you turn on your heels heading for the bedroom. You had stewed over what to wear for your date all morning, finally deciding on a pair of pinstripe slacks and a black button up. You knew she liked it, and she was always particularly handsy when it came to you leaving your shirts open, so it seemed like the natural choice. 

You kick off your jeans and your t-shirt and throw them in the hamper, hearing a knock on the closet door. You spin around and see her standing with a wine glass extended towards you. 

“Can’t drink alone…” she coos. 

You take the glass and laugh, “You’re not supposed to see me like this until after, baby….” 

A short and sweet ‘hm’ leaves her lips as she spins away to let you finish dressing. You sip the red wine and feel your insides warm as you fasten the bottom buttons of your shirt. You slide on your slacks and a pair of loafers before picking a necklace from your wall. 

You give yourself a once over in the mirror and step into the bathroom to spritz yourself with cologne, taking a deep breath and tossing back the rest of the glass of wine. 

She’s sitting on the couch in the study, lazily scrolling through her phone as she sees you step out. Her eyes scan over you top to bottom lighting your chest on fire. Her gaze grows dark and she bites her lips together stifling back the words that want to escape. 

Reaching a hand towards her, you ask, “Ready my love?”

—

“Two for Jacob…” you said to the hostess. She grabbed two menus and guided the two of you to a small candle lit table in the corner of the restaurant. 

You pulled her chair out for her, letting her sit before pushing her in. You took the chair across from her, laying your napkin across your lap as she perused the drink menu. 

“Can’t believe you got us a reservation here last minute… you know this is my favorite place in the city.” She smiled shyly. 

“I know it’s your favorite and when I called earlier to see if they had any availability tonight I wasn’t hopeful but by some stroke of luck…” you trailed off. “Anyways, I’m happy they got us in. Fate I guess.” you smiled. 

“Thank you, Jake… for doing all of this. For planning this and asking me…” She said. 

“Of course baby, wish we could go out more. But I was thinking, how about when we are out on the road, you and I sneak off and find somewhere cool to eat in the long stop cities. Just us. Keep working on us…” you say, reaching for her hand. She laces her fingers with yours and you smile feeling her hand in yours. 

She nods her head excitedly, rubbing her thumb over yours. 

“Okay good. Can’t imagine being on the road without you, you know. Want to see the world with you.” you admit, seeing her eyes grow teary. 

“Me too, Jake.”

A few minutes later the waiter arrived to take your drink orders, both of you opting for specialty cocktails, sure to have both of you feeling more relaxed in a matter of minutes. 

As they arrived you tapped your glass to hers, “To our first date…” you smirked.

“And hopefully not the last…” she replied with a playful smile.

You both sipped your drinks, carrying on normal conversation and talking about all the cities you’d be traveling to in the upcoming months. You both ordered your food, and as you waited you checked the time on your phone to make sure you were still looking good.

“Have a hot date?” she asked with a smirk.

“Sure fuckin’ do…” you grin, “I was just making sure we’re good on time. Our next activity starts at a very specific time…”

“Oh, we are doing something else?” she asks.

“Yep, this is going to be a proper first date. When we are done here I am taking your to the movies, where I am going to spend half of it working up the courage to hold your hand.” you say.

“Oh gosh, well I will make sure I position my hand on the armrest just right to make it not look super obvious that I want you to.” she laughs.

“Can’t wait.” you smile.

“What movie are we seeing?” she asks.

“Well, that was the hard part. There were hardly any options. We have tickets for The Northman. I know it’s not really your thing but we can pick another if you don’t want to see that.” you offer.

“Jake…Do you think we’ve been watching The X-Files every night because I am really into alien mystery shows?” she asks.

“Um…” you hum.

“We could be watching Antiques Roadshow and I wouldn’t miss a single night…” she says.

“And why’s that Y/N…” you coax.

“You know why.” she smiles shyly.

“Tell me, I want to hear you say it.

“Because I just want to be there with you. Lay with you…Want to feel you run your fingers over my arms, and hear your laugh, and feel you twirl my hair between your fingers and kiss my head when you think I’m asleep.”

“So you aren’t leaving on purpose.” you smile.

“Absolutely on purpose.” she smiles.

“So don’t.” you reply, locking eyes with her across the table. 

You feel her foot brush your leg and you swallow back the overwhelming urge to kiss her, and thankfully the waiter arrives with your food, putting a stop to your sudden urge.

The two of you continue to talk as you enjoy your food, downing another drink and sharing a few more laughs. You check your phone again, and see that you are right on time, as long as the bill comes in the next few minutes.

With the sign of your name on the line and the toss of a few bills on the table you are walking hand in hand down the sidewalk towards the movie theater, buzzing from the alcohol flowing through your body.

“Does my date require any concessions?” you ask, playfully. 

“No your date is miserably full from dinner, but if you want something you should get it! I can’t even remember the last time you went to the movies.” she says.

“I can’t remember the last time I went either…” you say rubbing your lips. “Come on, let's go find some good seats.” you say, clasping her hand in yours as you step into the musky smelling theater, ready to hold her hand for the next two hours straight.

—

Obviously, the two of you rushed to the very top row of seats in the theater against the wall, any other seats simply not making any sense. You took the seat to her left, removing your jacket and setting it in the seat beside you. The advertisements before the previews began rolling, and your heart rate began to pick up. Why did you feel like you were 14 again, on a date with a girl you’d had a crush on for two whole weeks? 

The two of you shared a few glances, her hands folded and rested comfortably under her chin as her elbows balanced on the armrests. Suddenly the lights went down, and the previews started. The quick heart rate from earlier got even worse. You didn’t know if it was the nerves from being on a real actual date with her again, or the fact that you were so starved for her touch after the week you’d had, but you found your insides rolling around on themselves with want for her. Her touch, any kind. 

You looked at her with your peripheral, the light from the screen bouncing off her face. She smirked a little, feeling your eyes on her. You made it through the five or six new movie previews, but you couldn’t name one. All you could think about was the gorgeous girl to your right, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

Finally the lights went down even more, and you noticed that the only other people that had made it into the theater was another couple around your age, who had chosen to sit down in almost the front row. A theater almost to yourselves. 

The opening credits began, the loud music rattling the walls and chairs. You felt your palms begin to sweat with nerves, so you wiped them across the thighs of your pants, and rested your elbows on the armrests, jokingly fighting Y/N to claim the spot. You heard her laugh through her nose, moving her elbow around to make room for you. 

“You know, if you wanted the arm rest all you had to do was ask.” She whispered, bringing her mouth to your ear. Instant chills. “And if you want to hold my hand, all you have to do is grab it.”

She pulled back, turning her attention back to the movie. Deep breath, it’s just Y/N. 

You held your hand out, palm up, and she happily laid hers in it, interlacing your fingers with hers and squeezing tightly. Okay, good. Okay. 

You looked to her, smiling ear to ear. The feeling of holding her hand was sending bolts of electricity straight up your arm, and you began rubbing your thumb across her knuckles. 

The movie went on, you only paying half-attention to it. In an act of confidence, you brought her hand to your lips, lying a long and sweet kiss to her palm. She started gushing, shying away and giving you a smile so sweet you felt like melting. She then repeated your action, kissing each of your fingertips and then your palm, her mouth parted and half open as she slowly laid kisses all over your scarred hand, like she remembered where she pulled each and every shard of glass out all those years ago. 

Then, she did something that caught you so completely off guard that you felt your head spin. She brought your pointer finger slowly into her mouth, running her tongue along it, closing her lips tightly around it, and lightly biting the tip…shit. You exhaled, getting so extremely turned on from such a simple act. Then, she switched your fingers, stretching it all the way to the back of her throat. 

Fuck.

When she finally removed it, you were writhing in your seat. She turned back to the movie like nothing had ever happened. Your heart was beating in your ears as you decided to meet her energy, snaking your hand down to her thigh, letting it slip underneath her dress, and grip the tender part of her muscle. You watched as she scooted forward just a bit in her seat, obviously enjoying this game so far. You took it further, letting your hand travel higher and higher until your fingers were ghosting the fabric of her thong. 

The next thing you knew, her hand was mirroring yours, traveling with a tight grip up the inside of your thigh. Shit shit shit. She didn’t slow down, she didn’t shy away. Her hand lightly grazed your bulge, before completely gripping it in her hand. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking directly at her, but the expression on her face was begging you to touch her more. 

You let your hand go up further, touching her through her panties. You held eye contact as you both touched each other, driving the other absolutely insane. You were hoping and praying that she would move to unbuckle your belt, and like she was reading your mind, she did. 

Your free hand moved to help her, your chest already heaving. She kept her eyes trained on the movie while you maneuvered your belt and zipper, and when you got everything unlatched, her finger tips sunk below the waistline of your boxers, pulling them out so she could reach her hand all the way in. 

Fuck what is happening shit shit…

You felt your already damaged lungs lose every bit of air at her touch, her hand gripping your dick and squeezing it, moving her hand as much as she could with it still tucked away in your boxers. 

You gathered your thoughts quickly…two can play this game, baby. You let your left hand pull her thong to the side, wasting no time in going straight for the place you knew would drive her wild. God, she felt so perfect. You’d almost forgotten…her hand on you mixed with the feeling of her on your fingers was making your vision blur. She scooted down in the seat a bit more, giving you more space to feel her completely. Should you…?

Just then, the door to the theater slammed, and in walked another couple, coming up the stairs and taking their seats near the middle of the theater. You closed your eyes, sighing a frustrated huff while you glanced to Y/N, her opposite hand covering her mouth. 

She started to giggle. She removed her hand slowly, and you did the same. She was trying hard not to laugh out loud, holding her nose closed as she caught her breath. 

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” You whispered, readjusting yourself in your slacks. 

“We’re acting like a couple of horny teenagers feeling each other up in a damn movie theater, and we almost got caught. It’s just funny, okay?” She laughed again through her strangled whispers, causing you to feel a chuckle leave your chest. It was kind of funny. 

After you calmed down a little, you leaned in close to her ear, sharing the armrest now. “Doesn’t change the fact that even though I’m not a teenager, I’m still extremely fuckin’ turned on right now and I want to leave this movie as soon as humanly possible.” 

She took a deep breath, teeth gritted tightly as she watched the screen. “Let’s go.”

——

You both made a mad dash out of the theater and toward the car, the brisk night air bringing you back to reality for the time being. What the hell just happened in there? As you made your way through the parking lot digging for your keys in your pocket, Y/N rushed up beside you, taking your hand in hers as you walked. Oh. 

You gave her a knowing glance, and she gave you a glare that could’ve killed you. She really wants this to keep going…get it together Jake.

You both hopped in the car, and you started up the engine, backing out of the parking space. When you got on the road, you cleared your throat. Neither of you had said a word since you left the theater, and frankly, you had no idea what to say. All you knew was that you were absolutely starving for her, and the tension between you was so thick you could almost see it. Was this really happening? It’s been over a month…

You let your left hand drape across the steering wheel and your right balance on the console, nervously running your fingers over your lips. 

“Are you anxious, Jake?” She finally broke the silence. 

Uhhhh…

You cleared your throat once again, feeling the threat of a tiny cough tickle your throat, still not completely rid of your illness. “Yeah,” your voice cracked. “Yeah not gonna lie, Y/N, kinda anxious.” You told her truthfully. 

“Me too.” She said meekly, sinking into the chair. 

You reached your hand out for her again like you had in the theater, letting her grasp your fingers with hers. Still feels so perfect. 

“Do you wanna go home? Or…” you asked, making sure she had the same thoughts as you. 

“Yeah. Let’s go home.” She said. 

“What uh, what about the rules?” You asked her. 

“Well, we didn’t break rule #1, and we kinda broke rule #2…”

“We broke the fuck out of rule #2, babe.” You laughed. 

“Yeah, well. I guess, since we never um. Stated a rule #4, it doesn’t really, technically exist, right?” She offered. 

Holy fucking shit she wants to do it. 

“Yeah I…I don’t remember us saying that one was in the book, do you?” You replied nervously. 

She shook her head from side to side. “Won’t change anything though… We’re still, not…”

You nodded. “Right. Yes. Won’t change anything at all. Still very much…not together.”

“Right. Not together.” she said, looking at you longingly.

You brought her hand to your mouth again, this time not letting it leave your lips until you were pulling down your street. 

——

HER POV

Did he really want to do this? Should you do this? As the car pulled up to the house he put it in park and shut off the engine, as he turned to look at you. Your hands were still clasped together but now rested on your lap. Your brain started to swirl with panic. Would this undo everything?

“Jake, I’m sorry I did that in the movie theater. I shouldn’t have.” you said quietly.

“No, I… It’s okay. I liked it…I’ve…missed your touch.” he replies.

“You have…” you question.

“Are you kidding me? Yeah baby…” he scoffs. “Come on, let’s go inside…”

You nod and open your door, stepping out onto the sidewalk as he rounds the front of the car to meet you. Your brain was still rushing with want but you knew in your heart that you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be with him like that until the two of you were back together. Right?

“I can see you overthinking it.” he smirks, unlocking the front door. 

“I’m not…I’m just…I’m scared it will undo all the progress we’ve made. That part of our relationship was always solid. I’m just scared we will fall back into how things were…” you explain.

“And what’s wrong with that?” he says, stepping inside and tossing his keys on the table.

“I was a terrible person. Partner…I just want to be what you need in a partner and back then, I wasn’t. You deserve better Jake.” you say.

He steps up to you and grabs your arms looking into your eyes, “I can assure you that you are everything I need. Everything I deserve. Everything I want. If you want to wait, it’ll fuckin’ kill me, but I will wait. I will always wait for you, Y/N. Okay?”

He slides his hand down your arms and twists his fingers with yours.

“Are you sure you aren’t mad Jake? I feel like I just teased you so bad, and you planned the most perfect date and now I am leaving you high and dry…We shouldn’t have taken it that far…” you say.

“Baby this was never part of the plan. I never expected anything. I just wanted to take you out, have a little bit of fun outside of the house. Everything else was just extra. And honestly just feeling your hand on me even if just for a minute was enough.” he pauses. “I mean I guess I was kind of expecting a kiss at the end of the date…” he says playfully.

“So walk me to my door and maybe you’ll get it…” you tease.

He releases one of your hands as he walks you to the guest room door pausing as you turn to face him, “Thank you for the date. It was so much fun…I hope we can have another one day…” you taunt.

“Mmm it’s looking pretty good so far…” he smirks, leaning his head towards you placing his hand on your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. You wind your hands around his waist and pull him closer to you. He pulls your bottom lip between his, sucking at it gently as his tongue swipes over it. You open your mouth just slightly to let him in, a gentle whine leaving your mouth. 

“Mmm fuck…” he growls as he pulls away. “We have to stop. I want you so bad. I’m sorry Y/N. Anyways, thanks for coming with me tonight. I hope you… sleep well…” he says, stepping back from the doorway. 

You twist the door knob and step inside, “You too…” you breathe, your head still rushing with want. 

You close the door softly and stand there, heart pounding as you think about his mouth on yours, his lips, his hands on your skin. Your body fills with goosebumps and your breath catches in your throat. Next thing you know your hand is reaching for the door knob throwing it open ready to run straight to his room, but as the door flies open he's there, leaning against the wall.

“Jake…” you breathe.

“Baby…” he replies, pulling you into him. 

Your mouths reunite once again but this time it's faster, more frenzied. Both of you positively dripping with need for the other. You tangle both of your hands into the hair at the base of his head as your lips fight to kiss every inch of his. His hands reach down and cradle your thighs, pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist as he walks both of you as quickly as he can towards his bedroom. 

Your lips never part from him, kissing his jaw, his neck, fuck… anywhere you can reach. He kicks open the door walking straight to the bed and dropping you onto your back into the fluffy duvet. 

He steps back from you, unbuttoning the last buttons of his shirt and throwing it to the floor. He kicks off his pants and rejoins you on the bed, hovering over top of you as his lips connect to the skin of your neck. He brings one of his hands to your chest, grabbing your tits as frantically as he can. His fingers hook into the strap of your dress, sliding the fabric down your shoulder to reveal your bare chest. 

“Goddamnit Y/N…” he breathes. 

You squirm underneath him, desperate to feel his lips on your skin again. 

“Tell me you’re sure.” he demands.

“I’m sure! I’m sure! Please!” you beg.

He pulls your dress the rest of the way off of your body, leaving you both in just your underwear. He studies you, his eyes running over every inch of your body like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Your eyes flick to his nervously as his gaze grows darker. 

He runs his hand down your chest, and over your stomach, letting his fingers graze your heat as he swipes them down your legs. Your hips buck up into his feeling his hardened length brush your skin. 

He sees the look in your eye when you feel it, a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. “Every fuckin’ day. Every day I have to fight that off. I’m not gonna fight it anymore baby.”

“Please Jake…” you beg. 

His fingers hook into the lace of your thong all but ripping it from your body as he uses his knee to spread your legs. You’re breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling quickly as you wait for his touch. 

“Where was I…” he said, swiping a finger through your wetness. 

“Somewhere like here…” he said, pushing two fingers inside of you, causing your back to arch up off the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Right there, huh baby…” he growled. 

His free hand comes up to twist one of your nipples between his fingers, a whine leaving your lips at the sensation. “You always have made the prettiest sounds.”

He hooks his fingers up into you, as he lowers his lips to your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth and biting gently. 

“Jake…” you moan.

He releases his mouth from you, continuing to pump his fingers in and out, “Yeah baby?”

“I can’t wait. Please. Just…please.” you beg, reaching to pull his boxers down.

He pulls his fingers from you and pushes his boxers the rest of the way off, kicking them to the floor to join the rest of your clothes. 

Your eyes travel down his torso to his dick, before you flick your eyes back up to his. 

He snaps his fingers and points to the top of the bed, “Get in the middle.”

You quickly move yourself backwards as he crawls onto the bed between your legs. He bends down, licking a hot stripe up your center, as you sigh into the air.

His left hand comes up to rest next to your head as his right grips his length and drags his tip through your folds.

“Jesus Christ Y/N, I swear to god I’m not going to last five seconds.” he pants. 

“If we’re going to break the rules, we are going to fucking break them.” you breathe.

With a grunt he presses inside you and a whine rips from your chest at the feeling. He is breathing heavy over top of you, trying to keep his composure as your insides adjust around him.

“Fuck me, you are so tight. Feels like the fucking first time I felt you around me…” he pulls his hips back to try to start moving, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a breath.

“Shit, yeah I need a second.” he pleads.

“Jake, I need you to move. I need you to fuck me right this second.” you beg.

He swallows harshly and pulls back, before pressing into you again with a deep groan. You can see him fighting it, he wants to give you what you want. He wants this to last the rest of the night. You can feel every sweet inch of him as he moves inside of you, your walls clenching around him with every thrust. 

“Jake…fuck…fuck I missed you. I…” you breathe, digging your nails into his back. 

He attaches his lips to yours, licking into your mouth as he starts to move quicker, hitting your sweet spot with every stroke.

He lowers his lips to your ear, whispering into it as he works both of you towards release. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good baby. My gorgeous fuckin’ girl…” he growls.

He starts to roll his hips, causing his tip to slide against your g-spot in slow meticulous strokes as he presses his hand to your pelvis to increase the pressure. You cry out in bliss as the sensation takes over your body.

“Feel good? Feel good when I fuck you like that? Been thinkin’ about it for weeks. The things I was going to do to you when I finally got you back…Better than I imagined baby. You always are…” he whispers.

He pulls out all the way, grabbing your knee and hooking it up over his hip as he presses all the way in to be fully seated inside of you. You clench down around him, and his eyes shoot open to lock with yours. 

“I can’t hold it…” he breathes.

“Don’t…” you pant.

“Want you to cum with me.” he begs.

“I’m there… just keep going…” you answer.

He brings his thumb to his mouth, licking it before pressing it to your clit making rapid circles. You arch up into his touch, and whine.

“Yeah just like that love, you’re so close. My good girl, let me have it. Let me fill you. Can I do that? Can I fill my girl?” he coaxes.

“Please Jake! Fuck!” you cry, a tear springing from your eye.

“Now baby, right fuckin’ now!” he says, grabbing your hips and pulling you impossibly closer to him as his cock jerks violently inside of you. You feel the fire blaze through your chest as your release washes over the both of you, completely tearing your consciousness apart. He grunts your name as his warmth fills you, the room filled with breathy moans and whimpers.

He releases his grip on your hips trying to slowly pull himself out of you without making a huge mess, but as he pulls out, it spills out of you and onto your legs. He groans as he watches, his eyes flicking to yours, which you’re sure are completely blissed out. 

He brings himself to lay on top of you, pressing his lips to yours over and over, until you’re both giggling and smiling. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t go longer. I…It’s been a month without you…” he says, rolling off of you and onto his side.

“Jake…I was barely holding on too. But…” you pause.

“But what…” he asks, running his finger down your sternum.

“But I want more.” you whisper.

“Oh thank god…” he says, turning your body onto your side, and pulling you into him. He lifts your leg and positions himself at your entrance, slowly pushing inside of you.

“I don’t know if I will ever get enough of you Y/N…” he whispers into your ear. 

His hand reaches around to the front of you swirling his fingers over your clit as you arch into him. 

“Oh fuck stay like that, keep your back arched like that, holy fuck…” he begs slowly thrusting in and out of you. He continues to whisper sweet praises into your ear as his hand travels over your body so softly, so gently.

His hand comes back up to wrap around your front holding you tightly to his chest. Suddenly you feel the air between you shift, this is no longer frenzied and furious sex, no, somewhere it shifted into slow and tender love making. There were no more harsh movements, there were no more dirty phrases. It was just you and him. The both of you showing each other you’re still here. You’re both still in there, loving each other, through it all. 

He pulls out of you and you spin to face him, near tears as he presses his lips to yours in a kiss you know is laced with love and adoration. He pulls your hips towards him, as you part your legs to let him back in. He presses into you until he is fully seated and breathing in deeply the scent of the two of you together. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as he slowly pushes and pulls in and out, his eyes never leaving yours once. 

“Remember, that night in the hotel room, I told you to stop telling me you loved me.” he says, continuing to move. 

“Yeah…” you breathe.

“Please don’t…” he begs.

You press your lips to his, your tongues tangling together as he moves inside of you.

“Why did you say it?” you ask.

“Because it was killing me that I couldn’t say it back…I never stopped loving you.” he answered, starting to pant. 

“I found out right after that, what I did. Crawled into bed with you. Just wanted to be close to you. Had to tell you I loved you too. Couldn’t breathe until I said it. You didn’t hear it, but…” he continued.

“You do?” you ask.

He grabs you and rolls to his back, bringing you to sit on top of him. You spin around to face him, repositioning yourself on top of him, as you begin to roll your hips slowly. 

“Y/N there is nothing in the world that you could ever do that would keep me from loving you.” he answers. 

You lift off of him before dropping back down, repeating the motion until the both of you are crumbling closer to your second orgasm. 

His hands guided your hips, as he talked you through it, his touch tender and loving as he spilled into you for the second time. You rolled off of him and into the bathroom to clean up, opting for a quick rinse in the shower before you both returned to the bed. 

You helped him change the sheets and he disappeared down the hallway, returning with your pillow and your cell phone. 

You pulled on one of his t-shirts and a clean pair of underwear before you slid into the bed next to him and cuddled into his side. 

“Hey baby?” you asked, into the dark room.

“Yes?” 

You rolled closer to him and looked up towards him, “What do you want to do for your birthday?” 

“Hmmm…That…” he giggles. 

You dig a finger into his ribs, “No seriously…”

“I am being serious.” he laughs again.

“Jacob…” you warn.

“I don’t know. I just want to spend the day with you…See Josh, and the guys…nothing fancy. Just want to do this. This feels good. Makes me happy.” he answers.

“Okay, okay…” you say, pressing a kiss to his bare chest. 

“Are you excited to go to South America in a few days?” he asks.

“I am excited, I have always wanted to go to Brazil.” you answer. 

“I can’t wait to take you, it's so beautiful there. There are so many cool places to eat and things to see…” he gushes, “...and to spend every night just like this…” 

“Jake… we… won’t spend every night just like this though…” you say.

“What do you mean…” he asks, turning towards you.

“We…we’re in separate rooms, remember?” you remind him.

“No…cancel it, change it, or whatever…You sleep with me damn near every night Y/N…I’ve kind of grown partial to it…”

“I know baby, but this is part of that growing up thing I am working on. I think we need to stay separate while we are on tour. At least while we aren’t together…”

“I don’t want to be separate. I want to go out, play our shows, eat good food, and make love to my girl every night.” he says. 

“Jake, we can’t do that either…” you say nervously.

“What so this was just…Just a one time thing?” he asks, stopping the hand that's been rubbing your arm.

“No…I don’t know, I don’t know what we are supposed to do but I feel like we need to limit it as much as possible. I know it will be hard but we have to… try.”

He lets out a sigh, “Okay, well, if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

“It’s not what I want Jake, but it’s what we need, as a couple. To keep rebuilding our relationship, without using sex as a buffer.” you say.

“I know. I just, need you…sometimes.” he admits.

“I know babe, me too. And I think sometimes is…fine. We just need to wait until neither of us can take it anymore and then…” you pause. “Think about how good it felt just now…”

“Fucking perfect.” he answers.

“Exactly, and I feel like emotionally our relationship is getting so much better. If we can just keep… doing what we’re doing…I think we can be together again and I can be the person I want to be for you.” you say.

He pulls you into his chest and kisses your head, “I know baby. I want you to be happy. I’m so glad you are still coming with us. With me. Still want to go eat at cool places with you. We can do that, right?”

“Yeah babe, we can do that.” you say reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “And for the record I am fully intending on sleeping just like this all night long.” you say wrapping your arm around his waist and nuzzling your face into his neck.

“I’d be sad if you didn’t.” he says, wrapping his arms around you. 

You both start to drift off, your mind swirling with thoughts of Jake and Brazil, when your phone chimes on your nightstand. Your eyes pop open and you roll over to grab it, squinting as you read the name.

Elle

11:47pm: We need to talk.

You lock your phone and set it on the nightstand, swallowing nervously as you return back to Jake.

“Who was it baby?” he asks, voice groggy and still half asleep.

“It was Elle. She wants to talk…”

—

The next morning you woke up almost exactly how you’d fallen asleep, tied and twisted with Jake, your limbs sweaty underneath the heavy covers. The memories of the night before came swirling back as the muscles of your insides began to throb. It really had been a while. But you welcomed the uncomfortable sensation, truly being thankful you could fulfill your human needs so effortlessly with him. 

His hair was overtop of your face, just where you liked it. He stirred beside you, flipping his face to the other side, taking his locks with him. Then he propped up on his elbows, rubbing his face before looking at you with the sweetest smile. 

“Mornin' sunshine.” You said, taking in the sight of him grinning with all his teeth. “You look like you got laid last night.”

“I’m on cloud fuckin’ 9, baby.” He giggled shyly, rolling himself to you and placing his elbows on either side of your head. “Actually got to sleep with the hottest girl I’ve ever seen last night.” He went on, laying sweet kisses to your lips. 

“Oh really? How was that?” You played along. 

His tongue brushed inside your mouth, instantly bringing back that feeling of want that lived deep in your bones. “Fuckin’ amazing. Perfect. I’d give you all the details, but…” he clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately I probably won’t get to do it again for a while, she said she wants to take things slow.”

“Ahh, that sucks. Well, maybe from time to time, when you’ve both built up so much tension…” you let your hands travel down to grip his ass, letting your fingernails dig in and pull him toward you, pressing his morning hard-on directly to your heat. 

“…you both can talk about it again. Ya know, just hooking up every once in a while. You’re both adults, right?” You suggested, leaving the conversation open ended. 

He moaned through a little cry, pushing himself against you again. “We are both adults. Nothing wrong with some healthy sex every once in a while, right?” 

You pressed your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as you felt him hold himself back. “Nothing wrong with it at all…” he mumbled. “God you’re fuckin killing me again, Y/N. I gotta get up. Gotta go, do something…anything…” You giggled as you watched him walk to the bathroom, still completely nude. “Let’s go get coffee.”

——

Half an hour later, the two of you were sitting outside of your favorite coffee shop, sipping from your cups and sharing an oversized blueberry muffin. 

“My abs are sore.” Jake said quietly as he stirred his coffee. 

“Sore? From what? We hardly lasted five minutes each time…jeeze. Must be out of shape…” you shook your head at him playfully. 

He scoffed. “Ugh leave me alone, it’s been a while. Plus I haven’t exercised in like, two months. I almost died of fuckin’ pneumonia and laid in a bed for two weeks, did you forget?” He spat back, sounding bratty as hell. 

“Hm. Well. Guess you’ll just have to build that stamina back up then, won’t you?” You winked. 

The courtyard in front of the coffee shop was semi crowded, lots of people with dogs and baby strollers. You watched as a young mom pushed a double carriage to the table beside you, parking it there and pushing the sun visor up to reveal two sleeping baby boys. 

“Is anyone using this table?” She asked, taking her backpack off. 

“No, no. All yours.” Jake smiled and moved a chair out of the way for her. 

“Got some tiny ones there.” You said. 

“They’re three months old today. Meeting my friend to celebrate their milestone with some coffee and way too much sugar!” She laughed. 

“Oh, I bet you need all the caffeine you can get, huh?” You said. 

“That’s an understatement…” she laughed as she waved her friend over to join her. 

You and Jake sat in silence for a while, people watching and finishing your coffees. You started thinking, right then and there, about something that you truly hadn’t thought hard about in years. Something that, until recently, you’d buried away so far in your brain that you’d nearly forgotten, and the fact that you’d almost forgotten made you sick. A part of your life that you didn’t discuss, that you didn’t bring up, that was a secret from everyone you loved. 

“What’s wrong baby? You’re being kinda quiet…” Jake interrupted your internalization. 

You perked up. “Oh, nothing. Just kinda sleepy still.” 

“Okay. We can take a nap later, if you want.” Jake suggested. 

“Yeah, that sounds good to me, babe.” You answered blankly. 

You both glanced over to the mom again as one of the babies woke up and started crying. You watched as she picked him up to console him, and watched as the other one instinctively opened his eyes at the sound of his brother’s crying. 

“Ya know, me and Josh always used to wonder which one of us would end up with twins, since there’s such a big chance of that happening through generations. I always thought it’d be him.” Jake said. 

You watched as the second baby moved his head around, eyes darting side to side, looking for his counterpart. Your heart nearly shattered into pieces. Even as young and tiny as he was, he looked lost, like his compass was going haywire…

“Watch it be Sam.” You responded. 

Jake’s head snapped your way. “Really? You think? Why?”

You shrugged. “Just would be funny. Hey, you think your brothers would wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, probably. I think Sam and Elle are back, Danny texted me last night-”

“No, Jake. Just your brothers. Your blood ones.” You interrupted, earning a very strange look from him. 

“Uh..I guess. I can… ask them. Why just them?” He pressed. 

Your mind spun around as you tried to pull an excuse to get the three of them alone together. 

“I want to talk to them. You. Just you three. About… everything.” You only half-lied. “Together, as a family.”

“Okayyyy, yeah, I’ll text them now. Uh, our house? 5:00?” He said, pulling out his phone. 

“Perfect.” You took the opportunity to take your phone out as well, pulling up the text from Elle. 

You

10:31am: Coffee tomorrow?

——

The rest of the day proceeded normally, you and Jake went home and did end up napping the rest of the afternoon away, him walking on eggshells at the uncertainty of why you wanted just Josh and Sam to come over this evening, but never pressing the issue with more questions. 

“I’m starting the pasta babe! They should be here any minute!” Jake yelled from the kitchen as you finished up some laundry. 

“Sounds good! I’m almost done here!” You shut the lid to the washing machine, nerves suddenly overtaking your body. You felt your face flush pink, and your stomach flipped over, making you feel sick. You leaned backwards onto the machine, fanning your face as the blood finally traveled back to your brain. 

You rushed into the guest room, pulling the drawer to your nightstand open to reveal your barely-yet-used journal. You flipped to the last few pages, finding the old photograph perfectly safe there. 

Fuck, you can do this. 

Little did Jake know, you weren’t okay. You were terrified. And you were about to share with them your deepest, darkest secret. 

——

“…and it wasn’t even the priest, it was his barber all along!” Josh had finished up with a twenty minute long joke, sending the four of you into stitches. 

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, Josh. My god.” Sam said. 

“Well, it made you laugh didn’t it?” Josh retorted, making Sam throw his hands into the air. 

Dinner was drawing to a close, and you knew the guys were getting antsy with their curiosity of asking them here tonight. All three of them. 

“Another bottle, guys?” You said, standing from the table and clearing some of the plates away. 

“Yeah, sure. And also when you come back, can you bring the reason you asked just us two to come over tonight?” Sam snapped, turning around in his seat to face you. Fuck you, Sammy. 

You turned to shoot daggers at him, only to be met with three of almost the exact same face staring back at you. You dropped the plates into the sink, admitting defeat. 

You slowly walked back over to the table, taking your seat. The three of them leaned in closely, watching your next move. You cleared your throat. 

“Alright, alright.” Deep breath. “So, this…isn’t easy to say…so forgive me if I get, a little emotional, okay?” You asked, looking to all three of them, the people you loved most in this world, looking at you with so much worry and concern in their eyes you could explode. 

“We grew up together right? Since we were babies, and stayed so close all these years, so I feel like I can trust each of you, even after all the bullshit we’ve been through, what I ultimately was the cause of, right?” 

They all nodded, speaking quietly that yes, of course you could trust them. 

“Sam, my very first chosen friend. Always there for me and always my rock ever since we could walk. I think you know me better than I know myself, and that’s a little terrifying. Always calling me out on my shit, and helping me fucking cause it, too.” You giggled, hoping that one day all of the stuff that happened in Vegas could become a joke. 

“Well, ya know...” He laughed. 

“Josh, you’re such a good big brother to them. And to me, you always were. You don’t even know you’re doing it, but you keep all of us so grounded and so in line, and so in love with life that you should win an award. And thank you, for helping me here lately. Taking me out of my comfort zone and under your wing. I don’t think you know how much I appreciate it.” 

He nodded a sweet you’re welcome.

“And Jake, what the hell. Where do I even start? I’m so excited about this new life we’re building together, and how supportive you’ve always been of me. All the shit I put you through, it’s been some of the most horrible and beautifully messy times of my life. And I’m so thankful for you and all you do for us.”

“I’m also so proud of you guys.” You said, looking to Jake and Sam. “After all that shit in Vegas, you two can still find a way to love each other. And I am so wholeheartedly sorry about how that all went down. From the bottom of my heart, I swear.” 

Jake reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“I don’t know if you know, Jake, but Sam watched you go through something really traumatic in the hospital, and when he told me about it, god, it tore me to shreds. Seeing the love you guys all have for each other, it…” you couldn’t stop the tears that were forming in your eyes, as Jake squeezed your hand harder. “It made me realize some things. And I don’t want to run from it anymore. I want to share…everything. With you guys. With my family. Even my secrets.”

All three of them adjusted in their chairs, curiosity and apprehension written all over them. You stood up, went into the guest room, and re-emerged with your journal. You sat back down, and flipped to the very back page. You pulled the tiny photograph that was stuck between the pages, seeing it one last time by yourself before it became not only your secret, but theirs, too. 

You turned it around so all three of them could see. 

Sam and Jake simultaneously sat back in their seats, physically blown away by what you were showing them. 

A blurry black and white sonogram image of a baby. Your baby. The one you never got to meet. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay…it’s neither of yours…look at the date…” you said to them as you realized their instant state of panic. 

“January 14, 2017.” Sam said, his breath falling out of him with relief. “Oh my god…”

“Baby, what the fuck is going on? What is this? Your name is on this…” Jake said, letting his emotions start to rise. 

“Yeah, Jake. That’s because it was mine. Mine and Andy’s.” You relented. 

You watched as their faces were painted with happiness, then shock, then sorrow.

“I never got to meet this baby, because right before I found out, Andy started showing his true colors in a more public way. Remember the night of the New Years Eve party? When he found us out on the porch?” You looked to Jake. 

“The night he put his hands on me there, left bruises on my arms…all the horrible things he did even before that, you know. Well, I found out two weeks later. I didn’t tell him I was even going to the doctor to find out for sure.” Your tears finally decided to run over. “The night before my appointment, he was drunk. We got into an argument, he pushed me so hard into the wall that it busted a hole through. I thought for sure that if I was pregnant, I would have lost it that night, anyway. So I fought him off of me for another hour or so, let him pass out on the couch. The next day at my appointment, lo and behold, the baby was alright. But I wasn’t.”

“I was so devastated…the nurse at the clinic saw the bruises on me, noticed how much of a shell of a person I was, slipped me a brochure for noticing the signs of domestic abuse. God, it threw me for a loop…I never even thought that that was what I was enduring, all that time. Seeing it there on paper, that Andy was abusing me while I was being told I was most definitely going to be bringing his child into the world. It…fucking…” you were sobbing hard now, finally feeling the weight of the subject coming to the light like a weight off your entire being. 

“I had to make the hardest decision of my entire life, that day. I had to decide. I had to keep myself safe, and I could barely do that. Andy was getting worse by the day. The thought of having to bring a baby…god, I couldn’t even…” you took a deep breath, feeling Jake’s arms wrapping around your back, pulling you tightly into him. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” he cried into your hair. 

You continued. “I never told Andy about it. I kept it a secret…from everybody. I felt so ashamed. A few weeks after I had the procedure, one of Andy’s fraternity brothers’ girlfriends decided to let it slip that she knew I was there…she worked at the clinic and recognized me I guess. Bitch. Completely against the fucking law, but. They told Andy, and he was infuriated. Said that I took something away from him without him even knowing he had it. Hated me for it, called me horrible things. Thinking back now, maybe I should have told him. I guess I could have given him that much. But honestly, things were getting so bad that I truly don’t think that tiny thing would have survived another night of its mother being thrown into the dining room table.”

Jake’s arms held you steady, his hands rubbing across your skin. You finally got the gumption to look at Josh and Sam, both of them absolutely fraught with sadness, tears falling hard from both of their faces. You could tell they were dying to speak, but neither of them had any clue what to say. 

“The reason I’m telling you all of this is because you deserve an answer. I’ve lied about it for months. That’s why he’s stalking me. That’s why he’s been following us everywhere, breaking in and stealing your things…He’s obsessed with giving me what he thinks I deserve for taking that away from him. I’m scared he’s not gonna stop until he gets it. He’s getting worse, he’s in it too deeply now.”

Josh’s hands were folded in front of him, covering his mouth as his leg bounced up and down. Sam had his head hanging from his fingers laced through his hair, staring at the tiny photograph. Jake finally released you, squatting beside you to speak. He brought both hands to your face, slowly drifting his thumbs under your eyes to catch the tears that just wouldn’t stop coming. 

“I love you so much, Y/N, I swear to god I do. I’m so sorry…” he whispered, pulling up to embrace you again. You let your arms wrap around him, your safe place, your home. He’d finally told you he loved you, after weeks of not hearing those words fall from his mouth. 

“I love you too, Jake.” You said through cutting sobs. “I’m so sorry I never told you, told any of you. I should have been honest from the get go. I was just too afraid to tell the truth of why he was following me. Could’ve saved us a lot of difficulty.” 

“No, no no…” they all chimed in unison. 

“No, Y/N. That was something you didn’t have to share with us. You could’ve kept that secret for as long as you needed to.” Josh said. 

“Yeah, this is him being crazy, not you. Don’t worry. We’ll keep you safe. All of us will.” Sam added. “He’s not gonna get what he thinks he deserves. We won’t let him.”

“Yeah, no way that fucker is getting anywhere near you ever again.” Jake added. 

You nodded. “I’m trying really hard, guys. I’m trying to be better. I think getting this off my chest was the real start of it.” You said, tears staining Jake’s shirt. “I’m ready to heal.”

The other two silently made their way over to you and Jake, wrapping their arms all around you and each other as they held you in their own cage of protection. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, all embraced together, but right then you knew you’d made the right decision in telling them. They harbored no blame, no judgment, no ill feelings toward you. Just love. Devastatingly perfect love. 

——

After a few minutes of silent sobs and embarrassed tears, the four of you stood to gather yourselves. 

“Well, that was a lot, sorry guys.” You laughed nervously, stepping away a bit. 

“Please stop apologizing, Y/N. There’s nothing at all to be sorry for. If anything you should be patting yourself on the back, for sharing that with us. That’s a huge step.” Josh said. 

“Yeah, babe. Don’t be sorry to us. We’re all gonna get through it together. One step at a time, okay? We won't leave you.” Jake said, rubbing your shoulders from behind. 

Sam walked up and took you in a giant embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he spun you in little half circles. “Can’t believe you held that in for so many years…I’m–I’m so sorry, Y/N.” His whisper was quiet in your ear. This was the closest you’d been with Sam since…

“Thanks, Sammy. It’s alright. In a dark place for way too long…ready to walk away from it.”

He pulled back, taking your head in his hands. “And we’ll be right here to hold your hand as you do. Okay?” You nodded, more tears forming as you felt his familiar comforting touch. He laid a sweet kiss to your forehead, and backed away. A little more light conversation added some happiness to the heavy atmosphere, and you suddenly felt yourself become extremely exhausted. 

The air changed, and Josh and Sam caught the drift that it was time for them to go home. “Thanks for listening to me, guys. Means more than you know.” You told them as you walked them toward the door. “I’m gonna tell Elle and Daniel soon, so. Just wanted you three to know first.”

They nodded, sending you more sweet goodbyes as they shut the door behind them. You turned to see Jake leaned against the countertop, his face completely sunken in with an expression that didn’t make sense. 

“You wanna go for a walk or something?” He said. 

You sighed, walking back over to wrap yourself up in him. “No, I gotta clean up the kitchen.” You said. 

“No, baby. That can wait until tomorrow. It’s fine.” Jake replied. 

“Okay…kinda wanna go lay down again.” You laughed. 

You walked under his arm back to the bedroom, changing into something comfy, and sliding back under the covers with him. He took you up in his arms, pulling you close as you let yourself finally breathe. 

“I don’t know what to say, babe. I’m proud of you for being strong, though. I can’t believe you went so long holding that in…I couldn’t imagine what you’ve been going through keeping that to yourself.” Jake said, laying his cheek to your hair. 

“I almost called you. That day I went to the clinic. I didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to go by myself. But, I just…”

“You should’ve called me! I would have gone with you, talked to you…” he said, voice rising. 

“You were in Europe, Jake. Not even in the same time zone. But, I did it. Got through it. It all…worked out…” you said, squeezing him tighter. 

“I know…I’m so sorry baby.” he whispered. 

You took another deep breath. “Jake, there’s more, though…”

He pulled back a bit, looking at you sternly, pity on his face. “More…?”

You buried your face in his chest. “After everything with the baby, in the year or so after, when I’d go to my annual checkups, they told me it was a miracle I even conceived at all. And after the procedure, I was left with a lot of internal scarring. Lots of… strange complications. Told me it would be extremely difficult for me to even get pregnant ever again, without intervention.”

“Fuck, babe…” he mouthed. You felt his body go limp.

You sat up, able to look him in the face now. “That’s why…that’s why I never told you about it. I didn’t think you’d want me anymore, if you knew I might not…” 

“Shit, Y/N, no. No no no, please don’t.” He sat up and squeezed you again, more sobs rattling through your chest. 

“It’s not fair to you, Jake. You deserve that. And I was selfish in not telling you, but I just love you so much, and everything was so scary and crazy, I didn’t want you not in my life…”

He pulled away, grasping both of your hands in his. “Listen to me, Y/N. You’re it for me. Okay? You always have been. I’m ready to have you any way you are, no matter what. Please, don’t for one second think that I think less of you. Ever. You’re the most amazing thing in my life and I’m not ever letting you go.” 

“But what if I can’t give you what you’ve always wanted?” You cried. 

“You are what I’ve always wanted, Y/N. Only you! As far as that goes…we will figure it out, babe. You and me. We’ll make it through all that together, okay? We have tons and tons of options. I’m not even worried about it.” He pulled you into him again, qualming your tears as he soothed you. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, but first we have a few places to stop along the way.”

“You think we will get there?” You breathed.

“Yeah baby… I know we will. I think about it almost everyday.” he says. 

“You do?” you whisper.

“Yeah Y/N. I…I know you’re the one. You always have been. I was stupid to ever let you go. I’m not going to make that mistake again. I swear.” he says, pushing the hair from your face.

“I love you Jake.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He pulls you down on top of him, holding you close to him as he kisses your head, “I love you too Y/N. I always always will. Until the day I die. I swear it.”

As you let him hold you, your mind raced again but a little more peacefully now, knowing that this was just the beginning. You’d started on a brand new journey, and family had taken on a whole new meaning. Facing it head on was going to be the challenge, but you felt stronger than ever. Ready to weather a new storm, with your compass heading set toward calmer seas. 

But in the back of your mind lingered a persistent demon, one that had haunted and tormented you for years on end. And though you felt safe here in your lover’s arms, you knew that the storm was still brewing, waiting, ready to wash you away the second it could. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

When someone we know and care about is impacted by domestic violence, it is hard to know how to help. But friends and family are important in supporting people experiencing domestic violence so they feel empowered to leave. Waiting for the perfect words could keep you from seizing the opportunity to change a life.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, there is help. All it takes is one call to the 24-hour National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or Text START to 88788 to discuss your situation.  

For more help identifying the signs of domestic abuse visit this site for tons of helpful resources.

If you are pregnant and unsure about your feelings or what to do next, we recommend calling the All-Options Talkline at 1-888-493-0092 from anywhere in the United States or Canada. All-Options offers unconditional, judgment-free support for people in all of their decisions, feelings, and experiences with pregnancy, parenting, abortion, and adoption.

Vigilance The Outtakes : Disruption

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[bethbluebell]

new to you [ e.williams ] part 1

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary; being the new person in a tight knit community, you would think it’d be tough to create any meaningful relationships but oh were you wrong; and it might just be one new connection in particular that will ultimately be your downfall 

parts; 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 (ongoing series)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You can’t even remember how you felt or how your situation changed so fast.

After everything happened you started to question what you were actually living for. You desperately wanted to find a meaning to the constant suffering and how to find ways to fight it. You were head-strong, not easily defeated by most things. You were a natural born survivor, numb to experiences that would drive normal people insane.

To cut a long story short; you lost your dad, then your mother and not long ago your big brother. Your dad died just before you could comprehend the world around you, having no treasured memories to think back on but it still managed to hurt just the same.

It was scary being by yourself, you had never done it before. You’ve been attacked, stalked, beaten, shot at but you always had your family to help you bounce back from those traumas. It was easy to underestimate loneliness when the world around you was thrown into chaos.

You remember feeling numb. Unable to feel the cold rain pelting yourself as you stood just beyond the gates. Maybe you had trusted this guy named ‘Jesse’ too easily. Following him to the place he called home and entering without questioning his intentions.

You were badly injured, your skin and clothing staining a deep crimson. It was clear the adrenaline was wearing off but you still managed to move. Your eyesight was blurring, the heavy rain messing with your vision. You could hear voices but you couldn’t make out any words. You couldn’t even feel yourself breathing anymore.

The longer you closed your eyes the more enticing falling asleep felt. In that moment you stumbled, the harsh contact with the ground shocking you as you blacked out.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It has been three months since you arrived at Jackson. Maria took you in when Jesse found you on a patrol, head to toe covered in blood. She reminded you of your mother and Jesse reminded you of your brother. It was clear they had no ill intentions when you woke up to a hot meal and your wounds neatly bandaged. They asked you questions but didn’t press too hard, they could only imagine what you endured before they found you.

Once you were back on your feet you were given small jobs here and there to ease yourself into the lifestyle. It was nice for a few days but eventually it got tedious. You wanted to do something a little more worthwhile. You started to take a massive interest in the patrol jobs asking Jesse about them. Maria was hesitant at first considering the state they found you in but Jesse convinced her to let you both patrol together. Jesse was the only person you really conversed with in Jackson but you knew you were the talk of the town, I mean your entrance really was something.

After patrolling for a few weeks with Jesse, Maria decided to give you a new partner for the morning patrol; Ellie Williams.

You were confused. Since you were still classed as inexperienced on the patrols you thought they’d partner you with one of the older guys. You were more so shocked that Maria suggested it. On a few occasions you have run into them having words, Maria was always the one to shut it down before it got too heated which ends up with Ellie walking off in a huff.

Maria said the pairing was due to both of your patrol partners Jesse and Dina being asked to thin out a horde so you and Ellie were tasked at patrolling buildings closer to Jackson. You knew Dina and Jesse were in a previous relationship so you would share a few words when hanging out in a big group but you never had the chance to talk to Ellie. Jesse would keep you up to date with his friends relationships like his and Dina's or Ellie and Cats; who was now her now ex-girlfriend.

You stuffed your backpack with all the necessities and slipped on a worn out hoodie due to the weather. Exiting the building you stumbled back lifting your left arm up. The suns golden beams were radiating all around just like rays. The glittering of the snow causing it to appear brighter, straining your eyes where it was almost painful. The patrols always started around sunrise. This was to make sure everyone got a decent amount of rest when they came back early afternoon.

It was a short walk until you met up with the other patrol groups gathering their horses and gear. You climbed upon your horse that you were overly fond of, she was a white horse called Blue. You began stroking her mane as Jesse sauntered his way over to you.

"I made the adjustments like you asked." Jesse announced pulling your shotgun from his half-open backpack and handing it over.

"What would I do without you." You replied teasingly taking the shotgun from his grasp. You asked if he could do anything to reduce the shotguns recoil and it looks like he succeeded. You always envied Jesse’s handiness, never being much good at it yourself. "Are you okay with taking the paired patrol with Dina? The last time I heard you were taking some time apart." You glanced over the shotgun once more awaiting a response.

There was a moment of hesitation as he debated on answering, “Yeah I don't see why not, we still talk on a daily basis but we just aren't together." Jesse replied lightly stroking Blue as he met his eyes with yours, "Listen, (Y/N). I'll be fine. Besides I should be asking you the same question about Ellie." He carried on as he nodded his head in her direction. Ellie was casually talking to Dina whilst sorting the supplies out in her bag.

Your eyes wandered back over to Jesse's in confusion, "Why would you need to ask that?"

"I guess I'm not expecting you to make an effort with her. The only people you really talk to is me and Maria, which isn't a bad thing of course!" You rolled your eyes and looked over at Ellie again.

"It's fine Jesse, you don't need to spare my feelings. I do promise to make an effort its just everyone seems so comfortable in their own little bubble.” He gives you a massive grin and pats your leg.

"Glad to hear it! I just hope you understand I'll be asking all about it once I get back." You laughed at his brotherly behaviour and said your goodbyes. You were pretty nervous as you had no idea what to expect from Ellie but you just hope you get along for the sake of the trip.

Once the gate opens everyone sets off on their different routes so you and Ellie were finally alone. She was riding ahead of you having done this route before which gave you the perfect conversation opener. 

"So, do you do this route often?" You could see Ellie's body freeze for a second at the sudden question, probably not expecting a conversation out of you so soon.

Ellie turned her head towards you before speaking, "Not really, do you?" You studied her side profile as she awaited your response. The route was hardly familiar but you could've swore Jesse took you along this path.

"Maybe once with Jesse, I can't really remember it though." Ellie hummed in response turning her head back. Your reply was vague but you weren’t exactly focusing on your words right now. The comfortable silence left you with your thoughts, your thoughts being clouded by the girl in front of you.

"What's the deal with you and Jesse anyways? You two seem close." Your eyes widened comically not understanding the intent behind her question. Ellie probably meant nothing by it but you took it as a sign of interest. Then again she could just be asking for Dina; her and Jesse did date after all.

You let out a small sigh toying with Blue’s mane, "I guess you could say that, Jesse was the one who brought me to you guys. I'm pretty sure you remember my grand entrance to Jackson." Upon replying to Ellie's question you had just gotten to the patrol point. You stationed your horse in the garage as Ellie had made her way over to you.

"Yeah that looked rough. Do you want to talk about it?" You paused, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you quietly thought to yourself. Did you?

Ellie’s presence at the side of your horse threw you from your thoughts as you politely accepted her offer of helping you down.

You both decided to venture further into the building, not straying far from each other’s side. You briefly looked over at Ellie and noticed that she was staring back at you. You jumped in response and darted your eyes to the other side of the room, "Oh! Uh, I don't mind but I'm sure you've heard the story from somebody else." You climbed through the window trying your hardest to avoid the broken glass still present.

Ellie followed and made her way over to the logbook, “Please I don't listen to shit talkers like that." She commented sitting on the desk picking up the clipboard and pen, "Though, can't say I'm not curious."

Ellie/(Y/N) - All clear. -E

You gave her a small smile in response, "Ellie, it really is fine. I’m not going to lie and act like the bigger person when even I would want to know what happened." You sat next to her on the desk and breathed in, closing your eyes and fiddling with your fingertips. You could feel Ellie's eyes on you as she placed the clipboard down giving you her full attention.

You were traveling with your big brother after your mother had been shot multiple times by a group of trigger-happy hunters. That happened around two months ago and you could see the damage it was doing to your brother mentally. Despite this he always managed to keep you well fed and healthy. The day that Jesse found you was the day you lost your brother to the infection. He was bitten by a runner on his ankle due to him running out of bullets and not realising until it was too late. You managed to crush the runner's head with your foot but the damage had already been done.

Your brother looked so defeated as his eyes glazed over the bite. He looked like he was about to throw up as he fought the rising fear of facing the inevitable. Your heart leaped into your throat as you began piecing together the situation before you. Maybe it was the pent up emotions of losing your mom and now being forced to come to terms with losing your brother. You just couldn’t understand what went wrong.

Your brother knew what had to happen next to ensure your safety and shushed you saying it was okay. The raw panic noticeable in his voice as he held your face and looked you in the eyes, "You know what you have to do." Your body went cold as he reloaded his pistol and placed it in your hands. You looked up at him, lips trembling and eyes glistening with tears. You held onto the pistol firmly and hesitantly lifted it up to his forehead.

Your stomach clenched as you gripped the gun tighter,  "I love you."

Ellie noticed your change in demeanor and how you were biting your lip to try and hold back the tears. She began gently rubbing your back in circular motions to calm you down. You took two deep breaths and carried on twiddling your thumbs, "After I shot the gun I drew the attention of another horde in the area I suppose. Luckily, Jesse was patrolling at that time and got to me as I barely had enough ammo to defend myself. Who knew runners were so good at hand to hand combat?"

Ellie gave off a little laugh at that comment realising it was your way at trying to lighten the mood. You looked over at her and smiled, slowly dragging yourself off the desk. Ellie followed along quietly. She had an idea of what happened but it hit a lot deeper coming directly from you.

You cleared your throat slowly shuffling towards the exit, "We'd better head off to our next area. I don't want to disappoint Maria since I'm still new to this patrol business." You explained turning around to face her. It was nice patrolling with Ellie. Sure, doing it with Jesse was equally as good but you enjoyed the change.

"Doing it in pairs is fairly new to me too. I usually did it in groups." You paused and knitted your eyebrows together in disbelief.

"Groups? Why out of all people did you go on group patrol?" Ellie sighed heavily.

"My old man insisted." She looked incredibly embarrassed. Her cheeks were tinted red as her eyes refused to meet yours.

Your face softened noticing her discomfort, "That's actually really sweet." You muttered giving her a small smile before opening the exit door for her. She looked at you warily, expecting you to mock her about her overprotective father figure. Most teenagers would've.

You followed behind Ellie on your horse for about 10 minutes making light conversation until she pointed out an area to station your horses. You went off to take a look in the new building, your curiosity getting the better of you. Your dominant hand was hovering over your gun just in case you encountered any infected but overall the place seemed clear.

You jumped over another broken window that led to the outside, observing the back structure.

You came across a jagged but slim crack present at the bottom of the building that no human could possibly fit through. It looked so old and fragile, crumbling at the simple touch of your finger, "Hey Ellie! Did anybody know about this?" You were laid on the floor shining your flashlight through it as Ellie came jogging up beside you.

Ellie shook her head in confusion and crouched own, "Not that I know of." She squinted peering closer, "Holy shit, it looks like it leads underneath the building."

You hummed turning to her, “Yeah seems like it. The bricks look like they'll come loose if I kick them hard enough." Ellie nodded and stood back. You smashed your foot against the wall forcing all the bricks to collapse in unison creating the perfect entrance. You both smiled at each other as Ellie helped you off the ground and gave you a high five, "Alright, masks on. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Once your masks were fixed on, you and Ellie jumped down. Both your flashlights lit up the space that was now visibly swarming with spores. You and Ellie decided to split up to cover more ground and hopefully you'll find some useful supplies.

Spores were almost always a bad sign so you kept your wits about you, making sure you were checking every nook and cranny for possible infected.

As you entered a new room you came across a skeleton with a bottle of alcohol in its grip. Examining it further, it was pretty clear whoever this was took their own life.

A gun was not too far from its other hand alongside a note left on the dresser. You took the alcohol from its grip and shoved it in your bag. It felt wrong given the circumstances but in terms of survival you can’t be too picky.

Moving over to the note you brushed off the dust that’s been gathering for the past few decades and started reading it.

To whoever finds this,

Me and my wife Judy have been bitten. To protect our kids we locked ourselves in the basement. Judy has locked herself in the room next door. I pray she doesn't allow herself to turn but nevertheless I will not be another victim to the infection.

I've tried to reason with Judy but she says she's going to wait it out. How can she allow herself to turn? I really hope she survives this for her sake but even if she does I won't be alive to see it. I hope she comes to her senses. Soon.

You flipped the note over but that was it, "Locked herself in the room next door?” You mumbled staring down at the writers skeleton.

Your eyes widened as your stomach dropped, “Oh fuck-" As soon as you came to the realisation you heard a monstrous groan bellow throughout the building and a gun going off in the next room. You quickly dropped the note darting towards the commotion finding Ellie in a heated fight with a version of infected that you've only ever seen once.

A shambler.

It charged at Ellie throwing her to the ground with a nasty thud. You knew you had to stun the shambler somehow otherwise you'd have no chance of killing it. You swung off your backpack and picked out the alcohol. Your mother taught you how to make a molotov before she passed. This was brought on when a group of psychos thought they owned the city and killed anyone who passed through.

Must be a pretty common thing.

Anyways, clearly one of them liked to smoke because you found 3 lighters and plenty of roll ups on his corpse. The molotovs you made managed to thin out the group as your mother and brother took care of the remaining few.

You began ripping a piece of the shirt underneath your hoodie, putting your mothers teaching to good use. You lit the fabric preparing the molotov just in time. From the corner of your eye you could see the shambler getting ready to charge at Ellie again which forced your body into action. Using your dominant hand you threw the Molotov leaving it no time to react.

You pulled out your shotgun as it burned the mutated flesh causing it to screech out in agony. You fired the remaining shots trying your best to aim for the skull. It was difficult due to the frantic flailing of its arms but you were persistent, making every shot count.

Noticing its change in demeanor you dropped your shoulders and attempted to control your erratic breathing. The shambler fell to its knees bursting out in a vicious cloud of spores as you took a sigh of relief. You peered over at Ellie who was slumped, leaning against the wall clutching her abdomen in pain.

Your eyes did a double take as you saw most of the glass in her mask was missing. You suppressed a shiver as you caught on to her rapid short breaths. This can’t be happening. You stared in utter fear as Ellie continued to breathe in spores.

In the back of your head you knew there was nothing you could do to help her but that still didn’t stop you from trying. "Oh fuck, oh fuck!" You ran over to Ellie in a panic ripping off her mask and clasping your hand over her mouth and nose as best as you could.

"It’s going to be okay, just please stay calm for me." You urged fiddling with the clasp using your other spare hand, “You can have my mask and I’m going to hold my breath, okay? I’ve done it be-!” Your body was slammed against the floor as Ellie held your mask firmly to your face, groaning in pain.

"(Y/N), d-dont" She stammered trying to catch her breath. You easily pushed her off you as she leaned back in pain again, looking at you in desperation.

You sat there sadness clouding your features as you looked over at Ellie’s weakening state. "H-how?" Your eyes scanned all over her face.

For a second you froze, your face hardening, “You aren’t coughing?” You questioned bluntly. Ellie’s breathing began to slow as she averted her eyes away from yours, “How are you breathing in this shit?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, "I'm immune." She managed to get out.

Your mouth snapped shut as you reeled yourself back. Naturally, you felt a huge wave of relief but the feeling of possibly loosing someone else was still lingering.

"Your immune." You repeated standing up. "Well thank fuck for that I almost thought you were dead." You scoffed kicking her broken mask aside.

"(Y/N).." Ellie trailed off gazing up at you as you as you picked her up off the floor.

You looked away from her as you lightly let go of her fragile body and threw both your backpacks over your shoulder, "C’mon, Let's get you back home."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once you and Ellie arrived back in Jackson she was immediately taken in for medical treatment. Maria asked you what happened but you gave a very vague response and returned home. They offered you treatment but you always preferred to do it yourself, there were only a few minor cuts and bruises anyways.

Whilst treating your own wounds you began replaying in your head what happened. You regretted being rude to Ellie after finding out she was immune but you had no clue why you spoke to her like that to begin with.

Getting frustrated with yourself your movements became sloppy. You hissed in pain as you further irritated your cut and withdrew your hands from your stomach. You struggled to look at yourself in the mirror hating this version of yourself.

Fed up, you took a deep breath and grabbed the bandages left inside your bedside drawer. Once you were all patched up you decided to grab some food. Anything would do right now. You put on a thick jacket and stepped outside; the snow was a lot heavier now than before.

Walking along the streets of Jackson you noticed how quiet it was. You were never out at this time as you'd usually sleep the rest of the day since the morning patrols always sucked the life out of you. It was undeniably gorgeous. Your favourite part of Jackson has always been the fairy lights that framed the buildings. If you weren't so exhausted all the time you'd watch them every night along with the stars.

Once you had collected your food you headed back home. You could vaguely hear voices on the street ahead of you turning the street corner. You mentally kicked yourself for not recognising them sooner. Walking in the same direction before you was Ellie, Dina and Jesse. The last thing you wanted was to be interrogated by Dina and Jesse but this was the only route that led to your house. You could see the outline of their figures begin to stop in the middle of the path urging you to quickly hide yourself behind a conveniently placed tree.

"What do you need to apologise for?" Dina asked standing in front of Ellie with her arms crossed.

Jesse put his hand on Ellie's shoulder to stop her from walking, "There's no point doing it now, (Y/N)'s always asleep at this time."

Ellie nudged Jesse's hand off her shoulder and tried to barge past them until Dina held her back, "Ellie is there something you're not telling us?" Dina questioned glancing over at Jesse.

Ellie huffed and rolled her eyes, "There isn't! I just want to apologise for what happened." She explained looking back at them intensely.

Dina moved her hands to her hips, "You want to apologise because she put herself in danger to save you? That's the job! You protect each other!"

"What if she's mad at me?" Ellie quietly mumbled causing Dina and Jesse to look at one another.

Jesse put his arm around Ellie to comfort her which she just silently accepted, "Why would she be mad? (Y/N)'s saved my ass a bunch of times and we just laugh it off. You're thinking too much into this."

Ellie shrugged in response, "I guess."

"C'mon, you need to rest. You're not helping your condition standing out in the snow." Dina urged walking the opposite direction. The three of them turned around and began walking towards you. You breathed a sigh of relief as they passed and began walking again once they were out of sight. At least you knew Ellie had no hard feelings towards you. It's a shame you couldn't tell her it was mutual.

Once you got back home you ate your food and fell straight to sleep. You had a regular morning patrol with Jesse which started at 6:30am and you knew you’d need as much rest as you could get after today’s events.

After your well needed slumber it was finally time to set off on your patrol with Jesse. You two were riding your horses through the heavy snow until you came to a stop. You jumped off your horse and surveyed the area for any infected. Jesse came up beside you with his gun out, taking the lead.

"So (Y/N), care to elaborate on yesterday's antics?" You rolled your eyes at his question and walked past him.

"There's nothing to elaborate on, we were just jumped by infected. Ellie got hurt so I finished them off and we turned back." There was no way you were going to tell Jesse about Ellie's immunity. It was still a lot for you to digest and besides there's no way he'd believe you.

Jesse shrugged and stopped in his tracks, "Hey, if that's all that happened then I believe you. I only asked because Ellie was acting weird about the whole thing."

"It's fine. It was a rough day for both of us." You reassured him looking back with a small smile.

After looking around and finding no infected you both headed back to your horses. After 5 more hours of patrol, you both finally headed back to Jackson.

As the gates opened you were met with Dina and Ellie who must’ve gotten back just before you. Your two horses were passed off to the stable hands as Jesse strolled his way over to them with you following closely behind. "How'd it go ladies?" Jesse beamed causing them to cut their conversation short and look over in your direction.

Ellie looked down at her shoes once she saw your figure approaching behind Jesse's. "Hi guys." You smiled warmly at them nodding your head in the process.

"Hey you two, we were actually waiting for you to get back." Dina grinned, "I'm sure you've heard of the dance happening this weekend?" You glanced over at Jesse furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

Jesse laughed nudging you, "Well I was going to drag (Y/N) along with me."

“Any excuse to throw me around it seems, what a gentleman.” You joked earning a giggle from both Ellie and Dina. You four were walking through the town but you couldn’t shake the feeling of Ellie’s eyes on you. You didn’t have the confidence to face her which was an unusual new feeling for you.

Once you all made it to the bar Dina turned around to face you, "All jokes aside I think it'll be really fun. Everyone deserves time to chill out and have a few drinks."

You gave off a laugh and began fiddling with your fingers in embarrassment, “I can’t say I like the idea of voluntarily making a fool out of myself but- " The corner of you mouth quirked up breaking out into a wide grin, “- Ah, what the heck you’ve twisted my arm, I’ll be there.”

You were kind of regretting that now standing in the middle of your room feeling completely out of your depth. Saying you were nervous was an understatement. Call it the fear of the unknown but you weren't sure what to expect.

You were born after the outbreak and your family were constantly on the move. Having Jackson to settle down in was a blessing but because of past events you still felt uneasy. Picking an outfit to go to a dance was alien to you and acting as if everything was fine was hard.

It was the day of the dance and you were looking at your collection of clothes in disgust. You were hopelessly scanning the clothes in your closet expecting one item to catch your eye. Shaking off the heavy feeling in your stomach you changed into a pair of blue jeans and a low-cut shirt. You glanced over at the clock and realised Jesse should be at your door any minute now.

You sat on your bed for five minutes until you eventually heard him knocking, "Hey (Y/N)! You ready?" You slowly got up off your bed and took a deep breath. You walked over to the door opening it and staring back at you was Jesse. He looked you up and down with the biggest smile, "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Soooo you may have already read this if you’ve went down the ellie wormhole (im very guilty of this) as I have actually posted this on wattpad! I’m currently revamping this whole story and referring it to tumblr but I’m still leaving it on there as of now. 

I’m going to be forming the parts together to create bigger chapters and overall edit this into a better story.

I hope this clears things up & thanks for reading <3

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Many years ago I watched a documentary about interabled couples (meaning that one partner is disabled, the other one isn't).

They interviewed multiple couples and asked how they met, what their friends and family think of the relationship, things like that. I don't remember most of it (I can't even tell you if it was an actual movie-length documentary or just a short piece in the local news) but there was one story that always stuck with me:

An autistic man had a crush on a woman he regularly saw at his doctor's office. So he decided to write her a letter. He wrote down a detailed description (if I recall correctly it was multiple pages long) of how their relationship could look like: date ideas that would be safe and enjoyable for him, situations in which he may require her support or help, possible communication struggles they may face and ideas on how to deal with them etc. The next time he saw her at the doctor's office, he handed her the letter. She read it, smiled and said "This says you can't go dancing with me because loud music overwhelms you. But I really love dancing. Could we dance at home if you are in control of the music volume?". He said "Yes" and she said "Okay, then let's do that"... and they have been a happy couple ever since.

I love that story. Honestly, I wish someone would come up to me and hand me a letter like that!

There are so many unspoken rules in the dating world that (neurotypical) people oftentimes just expect you to know and understand - especially the whole "be mysterious, play hard to get, don't scare people off by being too honest" stuff can be really confusing! His letter feels like an antidote to that. He clearly communicated his individual set of "rules" (boundaries, needs, wants). It may be my autism speaking, but this sounds like the ideal way to start a relationship for me: they were both on the same page from the get-go rather than having to guess what the other one wants.

As someone who has been rejected for being too honest and talking about boundaries too early, it feels comforting to me to know that someone did exactly that and was so successful with it.

I mentioned this old story to a friend a few days ago - and they didn't think it was cute. In fact, they were shocked and disgusted by it. That sounds incredibly toxic, they said. You can't just hand your partner a set of rules at the beginning of the relationship and demand they stick to them forever. Those things need to be an ongoing conversation that both partners get to contribute to. Love isn't a business contract that one person writes and the other just signs off on. Treating it like one is a red flag. And quite frankly, they'd feel super creeped out if a quasi-stranger wrote multiple pages about a relationship they didn't even agree to yet!

And you know what? I absolutely believe that my friend is right - and I also believe that I am right. It could be cute and it could be a red flag.

This goes for all kinds of relationships but it's especially important for those of us who have unique or less common "rules"/needs (which could be because you are neurodivergent, disabled or chronically ill but also be lgbt+-related, e.g because you are ace or aro): Doing things differently is not by default toxic - and not by default wholesome, either.

That letter could be a great starting point for healthy ongoing communication in a relationship... and it could also be toxic if it is used as a binding contract that doesn't allow any further conversation.

Apart from a few obvious exceptions, we can't really make a definite list of things that are always good or always toxic when it comes to dating/relationships - we need to think of things in context. And that goes for the "standard route" as well as for more unique approaches.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

(P.S: For the record, I'm sure that the couple in the documentary does have ongoing, healthy communication!)

[tag-that-oc]

Do you have any Ocs you’d like to talk about??

oh boy do i

im gonna introduce my scrungly my poor little meow meow my pathetic loser the love of my life. Arvid Sheldon Moreno <3

ill add trigger tags too of course but just in case: warning for abuse, violence, death, and kidnapping

first of all i am a Terrible artist but here's a commission i got of him from the lovely jester @/ghostcasket (with commissions still open here is the info post. go commission them he's wonderful)

anyways. ARVID. basically he's a second generation oc from the project me and the other mod have. he is like. 3/4 alien?? something like that. but he was born on earth and that's where he grew up.

his parents are lovely and perhaps very strange but they are so good to their kids. Arvid is a mama's boy in particular he is very close to her and very protective of her.

so. what's wrong with him then???? surely he has Every Problem Ever. well he does. when he was a kid he didn't really have any friends. he was outcasted and bullied from various sources but none more so than Alex. fuck Alex we hate that guy.

Alex caused problems for Arvid basically his whole life. he was harassed and followed and beaten and manipulated and. well a lot of things!!

Arvid met and became friends with Izan who was infinitely better for Arvid and nicer and they were just really close. however that didn't stop Alex from being an asshole ya know. and it got even worse when Izan broke off from Arvid due to trying to manage his own trauma of a recent event unrelated to Arvid's stuff

so what did Arvid do? he clung to Alex and they became "friends". during this time Alex really drilled into Arvid's head the idea that he shouldn't cry, that he was weak, that no one else could tolerate him, and Arvid believed it all. things escalated until Alex and one of his other friends attacked and stabbed Arvid during a time when Izan and Arvid were trying to patch things up. and they left him there.

Izan got him help, but Arvid refused to let Alex get into trouble. in fact he had a strong fondness and loyalty to him and so what did he do? he confessed that he was in love with Alex. and Alex, ever amused and delighted by the power and control he had over Arvid, accepted his confession and they started dating.

and they didn't break up for a really really long time!

however this is all the backstory info! (well not all of his backstory but Some of it) this isn't even taking into account the story events! the story events being Arvid and his entire family gets kidnapped and taken to an alien planet because these fucked up brothers were trying to get and erase information on the esp experiments that happened during the first generation (meaning the things Arvid's parents went through) and. well long story short Dawson (does anyone remember when i talked about him?) was forced by his older brothers to kill Arvid and his mom. fucked up!!

but it's okay, isn't it? yeah Arvid comes back to life thanks to a wish made by Dawson on this super powerful wish granting magical rock. and they all live happily ever after on earth!

but not really.

when Arvid gets back he discovers that in addition to being brought back to life, he's now immortal. which is the LAST thing he wants because he didn't even want to be brought back to life if he was being honest. and Alex being the wonderful person he is decides to use this to his advantage (basically isn't it fun to kill your boyfriend over and over while he remains blindly loyal to you? Alex seems to think so)

however Arvid has other relationship drama going on. he has feelings for soo many other people but didn't feel worthy enough to be in a relationship with any of them. why would anyone ever like him back ya know?

except a lot of them did like him back. a lot actually. and Arvid starts dating others and building this lovely little polycule of people who really and genuinely love and care about him. and it takes a long time, but eventually Arvid breaks things off with Alex and tries to be happy. key word being that he tries because sometimes he doesn't do a very good job of it. he's still got it in his head that he deserves to suffer and will go on self destructive spirals now that he doesn't have a boyfriend beating him to shit constantly anymore.

some fun facts about Arvid is that he's a supervillain. i mean not Really a supervillain but he's a loser and tells everyone that he's evil. type of guy to steal from large corporations but not from local places. but this is all evil deeds he swears it. he also has plans to take over the world which he only shares with people he really trusts. he's so lame <3

he's also extremely emotional and will cry really easily but. well due to Alex Reasons he will belittle himself for showing sadness. he is obsessed with people seeing him as strong when his 5'3 ass can't even open a pickle jar

Arvid is also very very soft and sensitive about bugs he loves bugs!!! they were his best friends back when he didn't have any friends and even now he still treats them so gently. it's a really cool contrast to his usual edgy personality.

also!! he has really bad luck all the time <3 constantly tripping over stuff and falling in puddles and breaking his phone and. other bad luck stuff.

anyways i hope you enjoyed my insane ramblings about my scrungy little guy

[javarium]

Good Enough | Leon.

Warning(s): Female Reader, mentions of intentional harm and scarring from a prior Pokémon battle (because realistically, outside of Gyms and League Matches, I don’t see injuries on Trainers not happening), also warning for me bc I’ve never played the game, but the gifs are amazing :D Also might change the title so be on the lookout for that

Note(s): This is mostly a short story for something imma try to be writing somewhere in the near future lmao

Summary: You haven’t battled for so long, but when an old face of a someone who was once a good friend of yours appears to fight, you take up the fight again. And this time your boyfriend gets to see and gush over your battle prowess.

****

Leon had never seen you battle. He knew you had an entire team at your disposal, but it never really occurred to him that you’d never had a Pokémon battle.

Until today.

“Come on! One fight! One Pokémon even!”

“I said no, Leon! I have my reasons.”

His pouty face never left. You shook him off your arm the second he latched onto it. He huffed, undefeated by your disinterest and unwillingness to use your former team to fight him. One way or another, he was going to get you to battle him.

“Just because my team goes where I go, doesn’t mean I want them to battle,” you told him.

That part was true. You didn’t want them to battle. But they wanted to battle, regardless of what you wanted. As Leon spoke, begging for a friendly fight between girlfriend and boyfriend, the Ultra Balls on your belt shook in delight at the mention of a battle, save for one.

You felt stuck. Definitely between a rock and a hard place, you thought. You didn’t want to deny Leon and his enthusiasm. In a way, you felt like you were disappointing him. You hated that sad, kicked puppy look he gave when he didn’t get his way with something he wanted.

Like those damn cupcakes last week, you remembered.

But it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know anything relating to why you didn’t battle anymore. You only sent out your team when you had to, when he overeager little kids and cocky arrogant jerks decided to battle you — not taking your lack of desire to fight as a green light rather than a red one.

Maybe… Just maybe it would be okay. Maybe you could keep a lid on your emotions and not break into a complete and total panic attack.

“Leon, I—“

“Well, well, look who’s here.”

Both of you turn and your eyes blow wide open.

Out in the Wild Area, there were certain places you’d rarely come across another person. Right where you were, was partly one of them. There were some areas were so secluded, in fact, that people weren’t often found for days. That’s originally how you met Leon, being sent on a task to find him alone. That, however, was a story for another day—

“Hello, [Name]. Lovely to see you again.”

—but the man standing in front of you had a lot to do with why you left the Wild Area’s Rescue Team and decided to never battle again.

Dark hair and familiar ill-intentioned eyes bore down at you. He smirked as you scowled.

“Oscar.” You tamed your breath and bit your tongue, not wanting to let him get under your skin.

“It’s good to see you again,” he comments. “And I imagine you say you could wish the same.”

The tension was so thick one could cut it with a knife. Leon, despite being former Champion and as strong as he was, was beginning to sweat and get nervous. The intensity between you and the male was starting to be too much. Leon shook your shoulder, offering an excuse to leave. He didn’t know this person, nor did he care to.

Unfortunately, this guy knew what Leon was doing.

“As wonderful as it is to meet you, former Champion Leon, my business is with this lady here,” said Oscar, who’s eyes only flickered to Leon for a split second to address him. “If you don’t mind.”

“My lady,” Leon corrected, understanding the veiled threat and intent perfectly. He got to his feet and stood, eyes narrowed at the hostility that was meant for you. “And I do mind.”

As Leon straightened his spine, his height seemed to increase, and you began to realize just how imposing Leon’s figure really was.

His biceps bulged against the sleeves of his black shirt, chest involuntarily puffing out. You could see every outline of Leon’s body, shirt tight and taut against his skin. The amount of adrenaline and anger he was feeling was evident, with you now seeing the veins in his arms and neck. You looked at your boyfriend from toe to head, and it was only when you saw his arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed with fury that you realized that Leon was absolutely pissed. You weren’t entirely sure Oscar was going to make it out of this encounter alive.

But Oscar, ever the idiot, decided to challenge Leon. He reached for the Ultra Ball attached to his hip, and if he hadn’t changed his battling habits — like he hadn’t changed the rest of himself — then Leon needed to move. Now.

You shrieked, “Leon!”

You barely moved in time as a Mamoswine came out of the Pokéball, nearly crushing your boyfriend underneath its feet.

Oscar’s Mamoswine was just as big as you remembered — at least half a Mamoswine bigger than a normal one, totaling 12 feet — him being when you and Oscar were still on the rescue team together.

“He’s huge,” Leon said, exhaling his held breath.

“Massive,” you agreed. “He’s always been like this.”

“The Mamoswine or Oscar?”

“Both.”

You heard your former teammate chuckle darkly. Of course he was finding all of this amusing.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” came the fake apology. “I should’ve watched where I was sending Mamoswine.”

Your eyes narrowed. Letting out a hefty sigh, you grabbed and clicking your belt back into place around your waist.

“You really should leave, Oscar,” you said threateningly, grabbing one particular Pokéball, “before I remind you of the real reason why I was Captain of the Wild Area Rescue Team.”

His own eyes narrowed at the mention of the memory. Oscar had always been unbelievably jealous of you being chosen as the leader instead of him. At the same time, he had an unnecessary fascination with you — an unhealthy obsession — that was driven with a mix of lust, jealousy, and utter hatred.

“I think I’ll pass,” he replied with a snarl to his tone. “Besides, I’d like to know… How’s that left leg of yours doing these days?”

You didn’t need a fancy toss. You merely held the button of the ball upward and a solid click sounded. And out came a massive Steelix, towering terrifyingly over the opposing Mamoswine and his Trainer; the same one that had been your best friend since he was a baby Onix and you an embarrassingly shy four-year-old in your Dad’s arms.

You almost broke your stoic composure and laughed at the sight of Leon’s shock-horrified look at the sight of the Steelix before him, looming high overhead over the three of you.

Oscar and his Mamoswine were unfazed, familiar with your Steelix from the last few years of being team members. The two Pokémon were on good terms, but they would always put their Trainers first and fight one another if necessary.

“Steelix—“

“Mamoswine—“

Leon watched as your Steelix and Oscar’s Mamoswine went to battle. Both of them were clearly battle-trained and, no pun intended, monsters in combat. And as you called out Steelix’s moveset to counter and attack Mamoswine, Leon realized that you were an amazing combatant and strategist. Steelix followed your orders without question, absolute in his confidence in your strategy to win.

The further the battle went on, without either of you changing Pokémon, he knew that if you’d ever entered the Gym Challenge, you would’ve swept him and his team clean and taken the Champion title from him like it was nothing.

“Mamoswine, return!” Oscar shouted. “Go, Lucario!”

“Steelix—“

“Lucario—“

“Mega Evolve!”

He’d only seen Mega Evolution a few times in his life, but being this close to Pokémon that we’re doing it showed him how much energy it contained, almost seemingly even more than Dynamax. The powerful bursts of energy nearly threw him off his feet, particularly from Steelix’s larger amount of power from its natural size.

The battle raged on. Leon was shocked to see how fast Steelix moved when Mega Lucario aimed his attacks at him. Steelix weighed almost a ton; how was he moving that darn fast?!

Twenty minutes later, after several Earthquakes, Lucario was out of the fight. You swept the rest of his team with yours, alternating between Gengar, Obstagoon, Milotic, Hatterene, and Hydreigon for the highest amount of effectiveness to end the fight quicker.

Oscar scowls at his easy loss, but says nothing. You see the change in his eyes from spite to… something else. You’re not entirely sure what you see in his eyes, but it looks tamer than earlier, slightly of a maturity you doubted he would ever have.

“You’re just as strong as ever, [Name]. It’s quite something to be reminded of,��� Oscar chuckles, reminiscing fondly. “I was very disappointed when you left the team… but maybe I can understand why. Especially nowadays.” His eyes flicker to Leon, duly noting his earlier protectiveness and the nickname he’d given you. “You have something good… Keep it.”

You’re stunned by Oscar’s words.

He disappears within a few minutes after that, and Leon catches you as you collapse, gently bringing you to the ground.

“You’re amazing,” Leon says in an impressed exhale. “I can’t believe how strong you are.”

“Thanks.” You push the hair back from your eyes. “But I only do it when I have to. I dislike Pokémon battles very much. Oscar is a very large part of the reason why I quit, too. And not just the rescue team.”

Leon is silent for a moment, then says, “I understand. I may not know everything, but that guy brings bad trouble, has a bad aura to him.”

“He wasn’t always that way,” you murmur sadly, “but things changed. He used to be my best friend.”

“Well, I’m sorry he let you down,” he replied.

“Me too.”

He looked at your Pokéballs, then grinned and said, “But I know one thing,” trying to lighten the mood.

“What’s that?”

“You’re freakin’ amazing,” he said with awe, fists clenched with excitement and a fat grin on his face. “You’re an amazing battler! I can’t believe how strong you and your Pokémon are! You make me think you could even take me on and win!”

You feel embarrassment rush over you, from head to toe. You avoid eye contact, and you know now that Leon’s never going to stop bugging you for a battle.

This time, however, you might just oblige him.

[genshinlover101]

hi hi!! get ready for some tissues for ur issues. ooh okayok, 3am thoughts. so basically gn!reader is terminally ill but never tells the characters(Yae Miko, Keqing, Mona) then spends their last days with them doing all their favorite things, ignoring every concerned signs thrown at them until the very end they explain why they were companying them frequently at their fav places and then saying their final proper goodbyes. excited to see what my fav writer has up the sleeves now -😈

Keeping Your Terminal Illness from Her

Characters: Yae Miko, Keqing, Mona x gn!reader

Warnings: themes of death and sickness, mentions of blood

A/n: I just realized I forgot to add an authors note when I initially posted this ehe, so I’m editing it now :,)

I hope this is good though, I changed it so the reader didn’t necessarily straight up confess to dying cause I just felt edgy adding it in with my normal short headcanon 

• Your illness was fast and quick, it seemed like one day you contracted it and the next you find yourself coughing blood. In a similar manner, it felt like one day you had met your soulmate, Yae Miko, the next you were striped of a life with her.

• When the signs became more and more apparent and harder to hide you knew your time was coming. You wanted to hide yourself from her because you knew your life was too short to cry over spilled milk. Although you’d be a mere page in Miko’s 500+ year story, to you she was the entire book.

• You knew she was a busy woman, making a request that you wanted to have a little vacation time alone together doing her favorite things. It was rare to have even a day to yourselves, let alone multiple. You just wanted her to remember you fondly, and you wanted your last days to be full of her smiles and laughter.

Your eyes grew tired, feeling that you only had little more than a night left to live. Your sickness caught up to your optimism, it becoming too hard to mask as your skin turned pale and your eyes drooped low. The blood that you coughed up too frequently and staining your shirt. Miko would comment on it, “My dear, are you feeling okay? I’ve never seen you look so sickly.”

She was a smart fox, she knew you weren’t okay no matter what you said, and something was terribly wrong. “To be quite honest with you, these past couple of days I have been nothing but happy in your company. But you seem... You seemed like something was holding you back the entire time,” she tried to dig. The night stroll you two we’re taking had become spoiled. “The more you hide from me the harder it’ll be for me to continue to greet you with a smile.” 

“Miko,” her sweet name was all you managed to say before you began to rethink your actions. A way to tell her without dropping a weight on her heart, you started to regret withholding such crucial information from her. “Will you accompany me to sleep tonight? I’ll be okay as long as I am by your side,” was all you managed to say. Although it could’ve been interpreted wrong, it was enough to get your point across.

Your words struck her, she felt uneasy from your sudden change of heart. “What are you implying right now?” she asked you, her ears drooping low to the ground. “You can sleep with me, you’ll wake up next to me like always. I’ll hold you all night like always if that’s what you wish. You will wake up and the first thing you’ll see is me, like always,” she tried to justify and make sense of what you were saying. If you denied her words right then and there, she would never recover. Trying to comfort her with unresponsive silence.

You knew her eternal loneliness ever since she was a small kitsune, being abandoned by Raiden Ei and Kitsune Saiguu alike. That night she helped you limp back home, she couldn’t sleep, staring at your body and ensuring your breath was constant. Sometime that night, she couldn’t recall, your body grew cold and she knew you had fled from the mortal plane. 

• Your illness was always a secret from Keqing, the moment you contracted it you decided all you wanted to do was to spend your remaining days with the Yuheng. You decided that even if your fever was over 100, and if your skin turned pale, you would fake a happy face to relieve her the stress of finding an impossible cure.

• You would carry your contract with yourself to the grave. Not saying a word until the last moments. Even though you admitted how annoying it was, you wanted to hear the young woman’s stern voice bossing you around. It would pain you to see her treat you nicely just because of your sickness. You wanted things to be stagnant in your memories.

• You didn’t particularly ask for a week off from Keqing, knowing her schedule would not allow it upon such short notice. But you knew how much she adored camping, begging her to let you join her on her next expedition. It was one thing to hide your sickness from her, but to succumb while she was absent from home would be too much pain for you to silently bare.

Your bones grew weaker and frail, it became visible that you were struggling to carry your weight. Keqing got upset with you at first, “You were the one who wanted to come on this trip, don’t tell me you’ve gotten weak on me,” she tried motivating you the only way she knew how to. That was until you dropped, your knees buckling from underneath you.

She waited for a moment or two for you to pick yourself up, realizing that wasn’t the case she rushed over. picking you up in her arms as she knelt, “Come on, there’s not much time left until the sun sets and we’re almost at the campsite.” that was until she realize the blood in your right palm, raising her own hand to your forehead to check your temperature. Now that she thought twice about it, your face was pale, and you were acting oddly strange.

“Are you sick? We’ll see Dr. Baizhu first thing in the morning,” She asked confused. “If you felt so bad we didn’t have to go sightseeing, we could’ve stayed near the tent, you need to communicate these things to me or I’ll never know,” her stern lectures comforted you regardless of your situation. You felt your eyes losing motivation to stay open, your life flashing before your eyes.

Debating whether you should tell her the truth you allowed Keqing to help you limp back to the site. Laying down by the firewood with a log supporting you, Keqing taking her place next to you as she cooked up some rice water. Glancing at you every now and then she took note of how sleepy you looked. “You need to stay awake and eat or you’ll never recover your strength. I’m no doctor, but I can make some remedies with herbs,” you grew saddened at how focused she was on your recovery. “What’re your symptoms?” She asked.

“...Keqing, I love you,” you said with no context, ignoring her question. It somewhat creeped her out, making her feel uneasy. She couldn’t tell whether her emotions were caused because of how unwarranted your affection was, or because she got a bad feeling about how deathly you looked. She had no choice but to believe you’d be okay till you got to Liyue Harbor.

“I love you too,” was all she could say, a pit in her stomach as she focused on cooking. You never got to eat her cooking before the life drained from your body, your soul moving somewhere where Keqing wasn’t allowed to venture. Maybe it was cruel and selfish to Keqing, but it was too late to turn back time.

• You couldn’t hide anything from Mona, full well knowing that she analyzed your constellation too frequently to miss a terminal illness. She would see your future in cryptic letters from the scryglass, and see how your path of stars ended far too short to be considered normal.

• She must’ve been waiting for you to tell her about your illness yourself, but you never did. She acted normal, but you could tell something was on her mind as if she had something lingering on her tongue but chose to bite it instead. So selfishly you wanted to live the remainder of your life without mention of your fate.

• When your illness began to swallow you whole, you asked Mona to join you for the next couple of days stargazing. Traveling to different hills of Mondstadt to see the stars from a different angle. She didn’t hesitate to accept your proposal, not because she loved stargazing, but because she knew from your constellation that you didn’t have much time left.

You felt a shortness of breath, and no motivation to get back up and fight your disease. Still trying to stare at the stars above you in the night sky from your blanket on the grass. Mona must’ve caught on, secretly reading your fate on her scryglass every moment she spent separate from you. Your star alignment giving her anxiety beyond measures. 

She side-eyed you to make sure you were still with her, squatted down she hugged her knees closer to her body for stability, knowing if the stars were right you’d be leaving her tonight. She prayed fate would change, but she knew better than anybody else that what was written in the stars was permanent. She listened to your breathing patterns become irregular, her face white at your sickly appearance.

“I-,” she wanted to say something to you, but she didn’t know what to say. What does she say to her soulmate who will leave her at any minute? She didn’t have any last words prepared for you. She never had thought she’d need to think of such trivial words at such a young age.

“Mona Megistus, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” You interjected, reaching out to place a hand on her bare back. Your cold touch warming her heart. You knew without her telling you, you could never hide anything from the genius astrologer. The burden of telling her this was your last day lifted from your shoulders. “Please don’t ever forget that.” 

A blush on Mona’s face, “This is not the time to be flirting with me,” she said underneath her breath. Your words saddened her even more that she would never hear them again, “Knowing you love me will be enough for the rest of my life,” she averted her gaze from you, not being able to make eye contact with you in denial that you were leaving. Hoping that you’d reject her words and comfort her anxiety... but you never did.

Her eyes glazing over with tears, barely noticable in the night sky. Thinking if she could’ve done anything different to reverse your illness. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to take you to the old hag and consult with her, or maybe if she had went behind your back and told the Knights of Favonius, or maybe even the church nuns would have a cure. 

All these thoughts poured into her head when she already knew there was no other way. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered as she reached for your hand, watching you with fondness despite your delicate look. Wiping a small trail of tears away from her cheeks, she decided to lay beside your sleeping breath. Her head resting on your chest as she listened to your slow heartbeat. Staying up all night while she waited for death inevitably to claim you, she wondered if she’d ever see you again.

[zablife]

Tommy Kisses Your Head and Tugs at Your Clothes to Keep You Close

Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Request: Kiss to the side of the head and Tugging at the other's clothes to keep them close. Requested by @cillmequick.

Warnings: mention of illness, addiction, Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution.

When you heard the sound of Ada’s voice downstairs you nearly cried in relief. You couldn't remember the last time she visited Arrow House and you missed her company. You scrambled down the steps in bare feet to greet her, but your legs nearly gave out at the landing. You stopped to rest your hand on the banister to catch your breath, feeling dizzy with the effort it took to move the short distance. You contemplated the frightening weakness in your body which was only getting worse by the day. 

Finally, you made your way to the front hall. “Y/n!” Ada called out happily. You gave a small wave from where you stood, hoping she wouldn't notice your lack of energy. However, she had already guessed something was amiss when you hadn't returned her phone calls. It had been weeks since you last saw one another or any of the family for that matter. You'd barely even seen your own children. Tommy had kept everyone away so you could rest. The doctor had advised it and Tommy took that instruction very seriously. 

Soon Ada began flooding you with questions and you found it difficult to clear the fog from your mind after the long period of disuse. The only thing you comprehended was her final question. “Do you know if Tommy's made a decision about the Boston acquisition?” she asked. Your ears were still buzzing with static and you could only stare at her blankly, unaware of the business being conducted during your absence. 

“Y/n? Are you listening?” she said, cocking her head to look at you curiously. Your once rosy complexion had turned ashen and your eyes were glassy. She tried to convince herself that you were still the same woman, but an alarm was sounding in her brain that she couldn’t silence as she attempted to make polite conversation.

Finally Ada moved closer to study you more carefully, deciding she had to say something about your frail appearance. “Are you eating properly? You look so thin,” she said, voice laced with concern.

"It's a special diet for my health, you see..."

Just then Tommy appeared on the stairs and cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Ada, I thought we said we’d meet at the office today,” he said, sounding thoroughly irritated by her impromptu visit.

“Nice to see you too, Tommy,” she quipped with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve just been catching up with y/n. It’s been ages,” she explained.

“Well, there’s good reason for that,” Tommy said coming to stand by your side protectively. “We didn’t want to upset the family, but y/n’s been unwell these past weeks. Haven’t you, darling?” he said turning to catch your eye. You nodded in agreement, looking down at the floor. Something in his tone made it sound as though he were disappointed in you. Your head began to throb as you considered it, hoping you hadn't become a burden to him.

“Have you seen a doctor?” Ada questioned.

Before you could answer, Tommy snaked an arm around your waist and squeezed your hip as he replied with a tight smile, “There’s no need to worry, Ada. Dr. Bradford is treating her.” He pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head as Ada persisted in her inquiries.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked helpfully. You looked up at her feeling your heart swell. She was always there for you in times of need and you smiled at her appreciatively. 

Tommy’s head snapped back to meet her gaze. “You can leave and let her rest. What we have to discuss can wait,” he snapped.

Noting the tension in the room, Ada furrowed her brow and conceded, “Of course, I'll go.” Reaching out a hand toward you, she squeezed gently adding, “Feel better soon, love.”

As Ada gathered her purse and business papers, Tommy noticed you shiver and helped you close the collar of your dressing gown firmly. Tugging you toward him, he brushed the hair from your sweat dampened forehead and whispered, “Let’s get you back to bed, eh? It's time for another dose of your tonic.”

You rested your head against his chest, feeling a deep ache setting in again throughout your entire body. "I don't think it's working, Tom. Why isn't the medicine making me better?" you worried aloud.

"Give it time, love," he lovingly reassured as he gently guided you up the stairs toward your room. Ada took one last look at you as you slowly ascended, wondering what could have made a healthy woman like you so ill. 

Shaking her head as she exited the house, she heard a voice hiss at her from the shadows. “Mrs. Thorne! Mrs. Thorne, please wait!”

Ada stopped, heels crunching in the gravel as she spun around to see who was speaking. Frances rushed to her side and grabbed Ada’s arm, pulling her in close to whisper, “Please, you have to help!”

Ada looked at her quizzically, not understanding what the maid was asking of her. “Frances, why? My brother has a doctor tending to y/n. It’s well in hand,” she said calmly trying to break free of the woman’s grasp, but Frances continued with even more urgency.

“Mr. Shelby has everyone, including his own wife, convinced she's ill, but I think it's that tonic Dr. Bradford brings. I don't know what's in it... poison, morphine? I know he makes it worse by starving her, only allowing her broth." She gulped harshly, as she added, "She has what little strength she does because I sneak her crusts of bread."

"Frances, that's absurd. Why would Tommy do such a thing?" Ada asked.

"He's got a mistress in America. I overheard him tell the doctor. He's taking the children with him to Boston after the funeral," she explained with pain in her voice. Ada gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Frances glanced over her shoulder nervously to be sure no one was listening before turning back to Ada with tears in her eyes. In a quivering voice she added a chilling warning, “Make no mistake, they intend to kill her.”

[littlemisspascal]

The When (Part 3)

Pairing: Ruescott Melshi x Female Reader

Word Count: 13k+

Summary: There is a story before, when, and after Keef Girgo enters your life. This is the When.

Rating: M (18+, minors please do not engage!)

Warnings: Prison/Narkina 5 storyline but an AU where woman inmates are assigned to each unit as ‘peacekeepers’, language, established relationship, non-descriptive smut + references of smut, possessiveness, violence + blood + injuries, non-important character deaths, talk of having children

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is implied to be shorter than Melshi.

Author Note: Thank you everybody for the kind support of this story! So sorry it’s been such a long wait for this update, life’s been more hectic than I would like. This chapter's extra long though to make up for it 😄

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜

The Before | The When Part 2 | The After

In the morning you only remember snippets of Keef and Melshi’s conversation. Neither of them act any different than usual, scarfing down their meals before the alarm sounds. Part of you wants to ask, to see their reactions play out across their faces and their bodies squirm like flies caught in a web. But the other part, louder and more insistent, demands you hold your tongue. Let Melshi come to you as he always has no matter the situation.

And if he doesn’t…well. What goes around comes around, right? You’re already familiar with the pain of lying to him. It can’t hurt much worse, you reckon, being on the other side.

You divert your gaze to your breakfast before Melshi can catch you staring, forcing yourself to swallow another bite. But it does nothing to fill the pit inside you. 

—

It’s not until hour nine of your shift that Keef interrupts the sound of metal meeting metal, drill tip piercing through the widget’s charcoal gray exterior, by announcing an idea. 

“Table Three’s starting to lag,” he points out, gesturing with a subtle nod of his head. Taga and Xaul’s eyes instantly follow the direction, listening as their hands continue the mindless task of twisting bolts into place. “We can take the shift if we push.”

“We’re already ahead of Four,” Jemboc says, looking at the stats screen on the console. 

Taga’s eyes spark with determination. “I could use a proper meal.”

You can count on both hands the amount of times Table Five has finished first. Last win had been before Keef’s arrival. You remember the sweetened flavor added to the dinner mush had tasted like honey on your tongue and like heaven on Melshi’s lips. 

“Two’s a threat,” Xaul declares, but that’s not what has your heartbeat stuttering.

Ulaf’s rubbing at his right hand, digits stiff and slightly swollen, a grimace of pain pulling at his mouth. The old man’s always been one of the hardest workers in the unit, but lately his strength has started to wane, especially in the aftermath of the resentencing and the worsening conditions.

“Ulaf?” Melshi asks, brow furrowed. His voice is quiet, carefully prodding. 

Everyone plays a significant part in the group. And if something is wrong with one person, be it an injury or an illness or lapse of concentration, the consequences affect everyone. No way around it. The loss of Tress had Table Five winding up in the box. Melshi admitted it had been a damn miracle there hadn’t been a return trip when you’d been taken away yesterday so early in the shift, the boys hustling their asses off to stay ahead of last place.

Pushing harder for a victory isn’t worth the sweet reward if it worsens the poor state of Ulaf’s hand.

“What do you say, old timer?” Jemboc looks up from the screen for the deciding vote.

Xaul wags a correcting finger. “That’s short timer.”

Jemboc ignores the redhead, still looking at Ulaf. “Well? Wanna make a run for the win?”

Ulaf bites his lip, glancing around at the group with uncharacteristic apprehension. You know he’s hurting, that much is obvious in the tight lines of his face, but you also know he doesn’t want to be the weak link in the chain. Stupid men and their stupid stubborn pride. 

His agreement with the plan is predictable.

What is not predictable is Keef offering to switch places with you so he’s next to Ulaf.

“What?” Your eyebrows climb up your forehead as he slides around you and nudges you into his former space with his elbow. You look to the others for an explanation when they don’t protest the change. “Why?”

“Keef is faster,” Melshi says without skipping a beat.

You give him a wide-eyed look, jaw dropping. “Excuse me.”

Melshi merely stares back, neither repeating nor refuting his claim, and you can’t help pouting. It’s only because you’re looking at him do you catch the subtle lifting of the corner of his mouth into a smirk, how his brown eyes light up with amusement.

“I’ll remember that,” you grumble even as a shiver runs along your spine, confirming once again how far gone you are for this man.  

“Someone’s sleeping in the doghouse tonight,” Ham mutters teasingly while reaching for the overhead drill.

“He’s not wrong though,” Xaul says, only to duck his head with a wince when you send him a heated glare.

The sharp retort forming on your tongue is replaced with a startled gasp when Kino announces his presence by asking, “What’s all this?”

You’ll never understand how a man with such a loud, powerful voice and intimidating appearance can sneak around on silent feet. It’s like he enjoys sucking all the air from your lungs in one nerve-wracking whoosh.

Jemboc, to his credit, manages to refrain from jumping, but his stammering response betrays his nerves. “Oh, uh, just a little rebalancing.”

Kino steps forward, forcing the other man away from the console and then proceeds to tap at the screen. 

“Ulaf.” The way the manager says his name is noticeably more bark than his usual bite, but nobody’s a big enough idiot to comment on it. “What do you owe?”

Rubbing at his aching hand, Ulaf answers, “It’ll be forty-one shifts tomorrow.” 

“You are the next man out of here.” Kino presses a few more buttons on the screen, and there’s a new note of genuine praise slipping into his tone. If Kino was the type of man to regularly smile, you think he’d definitely be doing so now. “The shortest of the short.”

Ulaf manages a small, brief grin at the news. 

Kino looks over at you, then Keef. “This swap your idea?”

You swallow, adjusting your grip on the tool in your now-sweaty hand. It’s impossible to tell whether he approves or not.

“Me? No.” Keef shakes his head before pointing a finger directly at you. “It was hers.”

Once your brain realizes how smoothly he’s shifted the blame, your whole body stiffens. Your eyes snap to Keef, delivering an incredulous look that roughly translate to are you fucking kidding me. He shrugs one shoulder, seemingly replying sorry not sorry. 

“Smart move,” is all Kino says at last.

It takes everything in you not to let your jaw drop. Praise from Kino is just as rare as a first place win. You somehow manage a jerky nod of your head before Melshi saves you from further embarrassment by passing over the drill. 

The way he’s looking at Kino though gives you pause. Not quite glaring, but the distrust is visible in his eyes, watching every movement critically.

The dynamic between the two men has shifted since yesterday. Melshi’s still angry about being seized against his will, how Kino prevented him from reaching you. Another prime example of stupid stubborn pride.

You hate that yesterday happened at all, but well, even you can acknowledge Kino’s unbreakable hold spared Melshi from ending up with a blaster bolt in the chest from the trigger-happy guards. 

If you’re being totally honest, in an odd and twisted way you actually find yourself grateful for the manager’s intervention.

You hope Melshi will come to his senses sooner rather than later and let go of his grudge. You don’t like these lines being drawn, dividing friend from foe amongst the ranks. The only ones who are supposed to be the enemy are the guards and the puppet masters they report to.

You’re pulled out of your head, nearly drilling a hole straight into the table, when Keef decides to open his mouth and ask:

“So, in forty-two days we’ll get a new man?” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse Keef looking at Kino and Kino resolutely staring down at his pad. It’s a dumb question. The kind of question meant to provoke a reaction—which kind Keef’s aiming for at this moment you have no idea, but you doubt it’s the long stretch of silence he receives.

“Always the next day, right?” Keef continues, eyes big and round, and he’s either as oblivious to the prison system as he sounds or he’s completely full to the brim of bantha-shit.

Kino slowly lifts his head, expression the flattest you’ve ever seen it be, as if it’s been carved in stone. It’s the kind of look a man gets when he’s reached his tolerance limit and is one irritation away from committing unforgivable acts of violence. 

“You know the drill,” he says. The words themselves are bone dry, but the warning laced within them—don’t fuck around with me, boy—is a bucket of ice water poured over the entire group.

Everyone seems to exhale a simultaneous shaky breath once Kino’s moved on to shout at another table. Everyone that is, except for Keef.

When he turns around, you watch as his mouth curls into a smirk. It’s a smug little thing, almost amused. He catches Melshi’s eyes, and there’s something that passes between the two men that has you instinctively bristling, the memory of last night’s conversation flickering in the back of your mind.

You hadn’t been awake to hear if Melshi agreed to join Keef’s escape attempt or not, but looking at them now, your stomach can’t help sinking to your bare feet. Maker, you pray you’re wrong.

—

Ulaf’s behavior takes a turn for the stranger during the final hour of the day’s shift. 

Blinking rapidly. Stalling in the middle of a task before seeming to jerk back to awareness. Sweating profusely. Little quirks which might not be noticeable on their own, but when combined in alarmingly increasing frequency it isn’t long before all the members of Table Five are shooting concerned glances his way. 

Then he starts asking questions.

“Where do we stand?”

“Are we in the game?”

“What’s our time?”

Again, they might not seem troubling on their own, but—

“Ulaf,” Ham says, watching him carefully, “we just talked about this. We told you just a minute ago.”

He’s old and his memory’s not as sharp as it was ten, twenty years ago, but Ulaf’s never once repeated the same question less than three minutes after first asking it. 

He also never loses his temper, even when the group’s dead last.

His wrinkled face scrunches up, eyes turning icy. “Do you think I don’t wanna win? Am I working or not?” he snaps. 

You sneak a glance at the rest of the group, finding their expressions of discomfort match your own. Xaul and Taga’s eyes are glued to the tabletop, looking like they’d love to be anywhere else in the galaxy but here. Poor Ham resembles a scolded child in the wake of Ulaf’s verbal lashing with his head ducked down, lower lip clenched between his teeth.

Only Melshi’s brave enough—foolish enough—to maintain steady eye contact. You can sense the tension radiating off of him despite his neutral, almost empty expression. Once Ulaf notices Melshi’s stare, the old man bares his teeth like a cornered dog.

“Stop wasting our time staring at me.” Grabbing hold of the widget’s arm, he forcefully turns it in a surprising display of strength. “Shift’s not over yet.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know something’s deeply wrong here. Regardless, you tell yourself everything will be okay. He’s just tired, is all. Everybody has their off days, and today just happens to be Ulaf’s.

But deep down, somewhere dark and cold you don’t want to acknowledge, there’s a heavy weight of certainty this is a problem no amount of sleep will fix.

—

The usual rush of excitement that accompanied past wins doesn’t come this time. No satisfaction or joy either. There’s just raw and untamed worry buzzing so frenziedly along every nerve you can’t help staring at your feet, convinced for a genuine second or two the floor of the skybridge is hot. Even as a winner the effects of the box continue haunting you.

Melshi says nothing when you lean back against him, only settles his chin atop your head and a hand on your hip, his warmth a tether for you to cling to. That tension you sensed before is still there, still hidden. You wonder how he manages it, keeping his emotions caged the way he does when he’s such a tempest beneath the surface. Maybe he can teach you one day, little by little, just like Taga taught you the basics of signing.

During your first lesson, Taga told you the gestures used to communicate in the skybridges are as unique to Narkina 5 as the Tunqstoid floors, their origins tied to the prison’s inception and its first generation of inmates. 

Only about three or four men in the unit, including Taga, are fluent enough to send and interpret messages back and forth with ease. A few, like you, can follow along with conversations by watching, but haven’t quite gotten down the hand motions enough to join in. The majority don’t have the patience to learn how to do either, and patience is perhaps the most important element of all.

Both arms are wholly used from shoulder to fingertip. Every flick of the wrists, flex of the fingers, and shrug combined together can share a whole story without one spoken word. However, like all languages, the Narkina 5 method of communication isn’t without its faults. It can take several days for news to spread from the highest level to the lowest since the groups only pass through the skybridges twice a day. Even worse, all it takes is one mistranslation of a gesture for the entire message to change.

Up ahead in the line, Taga’s arms are a flurry of motion, eyes locked with another prisoner’s across the distance. Your mind makes an attempt at translating, but there’s too much movement of men in-between obscuring your line of sight to piece the gestures together. 

The queue is taking longer than usual. Every minute crawling by only increases the restlessness in the small space. Bodies start to sway, voices start to rise in volume.

“Keep it down,” Kino warns, but the effect only lasts mere seconds before the cycle of grumbling starts back up again.

Xaul stands in front of you, rubbing at his shoulder that you know flares up from time to time. And in front of him, faintly trembling and blinking up at the lights with squinty eyes, is a grim-looking Ulaf. 

“I don’t like this,” you say, reaching up to squeeze Melshi’s forearm. Pressed this closely together, you feel the fluttering skip of his heartbeat. “How much longer do you think?”

“They could keep us here forever if they wanted,” he answers, a solemn edge to his voice that has you fighting back a shiver. Not the pleasurable kind this time.

Kino whirls around, threatening finger pointed at Melshi’s face. “That’s enough from you.”

You can’t see Melshi’s expression, but you don’t need to. The flexing of his fingers on your hip is telltale enough that the cage containing his anger has been rattled.

“Rue,” you breathe out, a quiet note swallowed by the echoing boom of Kino’s voice as he seeks to resume control of his rowdy unit again.

“Everybody settles down right now.”

It has the opposite effect this time though. The crowd grows incredibly antsy, complaints turning to nervous chatter and wide-eyed looks of apprehension.

“Something’s wrong.” Keef’s shaking his head, glancing around with a creased brow. He steps closer to Taga, who’s still furiously signing away, and asks, “What’s going on? What are they saying?”

Even though it forces Melshi to lift his head, you can’t help looking out the window at the inmate Taga’s communicating with. Strangely, the man’s repeating the same two gestures on loop. 

Thumb and index on left hand making the letter L. Right hand holding up middle and index.

Then, both hands make a rolling over motion.

Your breath catches in your throat, watching as he conveys the message over and over again.

Level two. Multiple dead.

“Dream?” Melshi asks, noticing how still you’ve become. 

You say nothing, unable to wrap your head around the message. It can’t be true. It just can’t be.

But Taga’s saying, “Something bad’s happened on level two,” confirming your fears, and the man’s still repeating himself, forcing the meaning to stick in your brain.

“Dreamer?” Melshi asks again, tugging at your sleeve to get you to look at him.

“Rue…” Your voice cracks around a ragged exhale, heart pumping like you’ve just run a marathon. There’s a burning behind your eyes, clothes suddenly too tight, suffocating, and that sickening feeling is back with a vengeance. It’s in the air, poisoning your bloodstream with every breath.

Dread. Nightmarish and unmistakable, you know it well.

“C’mere sweetheart,” Melshi’s low, soothing voice pierces through the tangled mess of panic blaring in your head. He pulls you closer, arms wrapped tightly around your back, and you don’t hesitate to bury your face in his chest. There’s nowhere else you feel better protected, but unfortunately even the blissful sound of Melshi’s heartbeat can’t entirely block out the unfolding crisis surrounding you.

“Taga, something’s broken?” Another voice asks from further down the line. Birnok, your agitated brain somehow manages to identify. “What’s happening over there?”

“It’s coming around on this side now,” someone else answers from the night shift line. An invisible force has you twisting out of Melshi’s hold to see for yourself, butterflies stirring within your stomach. Maybe this is all a giant misunderstanding. Maybe death hasn’t been a recent visitor of Narkina 5 once again.

You stand on your tiptoes for a glimpse out the far window, question tumbling off your lips before you can stop it. “What’s he saying—”

“Quiet!” Kino roars, effectively cutting off the exchange.

An ominous crackling noise follows a split second later. All eyes shoot towards the ceiling as the lights weakly flicker before submerging the skybridge into darkness. You flinch backwards, instinctively returning to the safety of Melshi’s arms and grabbing fistfuls of his scrubs. One of his hands immediately goes to the back of your neck, keeping you close.

The power outage is over in seconds, the returning light revealing a sea of faces wearing identical cautious expressions.

“What the fuck was that?” Xaul finally asks the question on everyone’s minds.

“Nothing,” Kino answers decisively before anybody else has a chance to chime in. “Someone didn’t load in and they’re counting heads.”

“So they cut the power?” Melshi asks doubtfully.

Kino’s jaw ticks, and you think if not for you clinging to the front of Melshi’s frame with trembling hands the older man wouldn’t have hesitated to answer with a punch.

Instead, he lets out a huff. “Well, what do you think’s happening?”

Both the alarm and Taga’s voice ring out simultaneously.

“Two’s in serious trouble!”

Those butterflies vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving no trace of their existence behind for you to mourn. Your shoulders sag, exhausted and defeated.

“They’re going too fast now,” Birnok says, sounding frustrated. “I can’t read it.”

Taga starts to shout again, unleashing his bubbling fears, only for Kino to grab hold of his shoulders and spin him around to face each other.

“Shut up,” Kino orders, words striking Taga harsher than a slap to the face. “You haven’t got a clue what they are saying. Level two, this. Level two, that.” He jabs a finger against his temple. “Are you all fucking scrambled or something?”

Kino sounds mad, which is one of his usual and expected moods, but there’s also a sort of wild gleam in his eyes that throws you for a loop. Desperation, perhaps, or—and it feels dangerous to even contemplate—could it be fear you’re seeing? 

No way. That’s impossible.

And yet…

“It takes a week for one damn word to get all the way here. At least a dozen hands involved,” he continues, spittle flying. “And now you’re panicking about something on the other side of the building that might not have even happened!”

A beat of silence follows, broken up only by the resounding alarm and Kino’s heavy breathing. Some of the inmates exchange glances around the room, but most are too afraid of setting off Kino’s temper again to lift their eyes from the floor. 

“It takes a long time, that’s true,” Jemboc says, stepping out from behind Melshi to better face Kino. You stare at him, unsure whether he’s an idiot or not for willingly painting a target on his chest. “But you’ve got to admit—”

The rest of his statement goes unheard, interrupted by the chilling, emotionless voice of the prison commander over the PA system.

“Stand in place. On program. Feet down. Face front. Hands on heads.”

Both units rush to follow the order without hesitation, lining up in two neat rows. For all that you complain about the guards being obedient puppets, it’s hard not to feel a tad hypocritical standing in line with your spine ramrod straight and eyes staring directly at the back of Xaul’s head. Moments like this force you to accept a dark truth about yourself. 

You’ve got invisible strings sewn into your flesh too.

—

Returning to the sleep block, you curl up on Melshi’s cot, head pillowed on his thigh while he eats dinner. He makes three attempts to offer you food, holding the utensil in front of your mouth, before giving up after having his hand pushed away each time. Your nose burns at the thick, cloying scent of the flavored mush, nausea sweeping over you.

Level two. Multiple dead. You can’t shake the words out of your head.

Maker. You want to believe Kino’s right. That somewhere along the way somebody made a mistake. But if he’s not and these fatalities are real, then why did they happen? What possible reason could explain the loss?

Some kind of freak accident? An illness? A pissed off guard letting off steam? The consequence of a foiled escape attempt?

You press a hand against the ache blossoming in the center of your chest, all too aware of Melshi’s eyes peering down at the side of your face as he chews. He wants to ask about what happened on the skybridge. You can practically feel the question hanging above you, but you’re not ready to answer it, too shattered to speak.

Keef’s voice drifts into your ears from across the floor, snagging your attention. “You never think about escaping?”

Melshi stops eating, looking to the side, and at first you think the question is directed towards him, but then another voice answers. Low and gruff and distinctly Kino.

“You know I won’t answer that.”

Your brow wrinkles. Isn’t that an answer itself though?

“I’ll take that as a no,” Keef says with a humorless chuckle, apparently reaching the same conclusion.

“You flap that mouth of yours any longer, you’ll regret it,” Kino says, and you can picture the scowl on his face.

The sounds of faint chatter from other inmates is all you hear for the next minute. Your thoughts start to drift, wondering about Kino as a younger inmate, if he’s always been this cold and blunt or if it’s a side effect of his promotion. Maybe it had been his own choice to sever ties with his emotions, doing anything he could to survive against the horrors Narkina 5 threw at him. Afterall, he can’t have his heart broken if he no longer feels it.

“Tell me this at least,” Keef prompts, a different approach you’re already predicting will yield the same glowering response. “How many guards on each level?”

Melshi sets his empty plate down, careful not to jostle your head. He’s still turned away, listening to the conversation; the way his hand comes to rest on your upper arm, thumb rubbing at the fabric of your scrub, seems like a subconscious gesture. Something prickly inside of you relaxes at the touch. 

“Turn that part of your brain off,” Kino answers, just as taciturn as you predicted. “Only way out is to follow the rules.”

Keef’s lack of counter argument surprises you. He sighs, a quiet, disappointed exhale you only hear because you’re listening for it. You can imagine him sitting on the cot of his cell with his knees drawn up, leaning his head back against the wall, and in that moment you’d do anything to understand his silences like you do Melshi’s. 

“How many shifts do you have left?” he asks finally.

It’s Kino’s turn to sigh, but his is a louder huff through the nose, exasperated with the long list of questions.  

“Two seventeen.”

Anxiety ripples through you, fingers twitching, a reflexive reaction whenever you hear someone’s tab. You hate how your brain automatically tallies the difference between your sentence and his, how it makes note of how much shorter your number is in comparison. You’ll be in the double digits again soon, reclaiming the milestone the resentencing briefly stole from you. 

You pretend the numbness spreading along your limbs is because you’ve been lying in the same position too long, not at all stemming from the thought of being forced to leave Melshi behind. 

“Tell me what you know before you go,” Keef says, and his voice is soft, coaxing. 

Kino doesn’t take the bait. “You’ve been warned,” he declares in that flat, steely tone resembling the edge of a blade ready to draw blood.

Anyone else would have been chilled to the bone, but Keef’s always been different from the rest. He snorts out a laugh instead.

“You think they give a damn what we say?”

“You’re on your own with this.”

“Why?” is the immediate response, all traces of humor gone. “You think they’re listening? You think they care enough to make any kind of effort?”

“Like you would know,” Kino says, dropping his already low voice another octave. There’s something fragile about the change that sparks the memory of his face in the skybridge. You hadn’t thought a man like Kino, someone so tough and imposing, could ever be scared of anything, but now it’s like a veil has been lifted and it terrifies you. 

“I know this,” Keef keeps pressing, firm in his conviction. “As long as they turn the floors on and keep their numbers rolling, they don’t need to care about anything. Why bother listening to us? We are nothing to them.”

Your mouth goes dry. It’s like their roles have abruptly switched and Keef’s become the intimidator, taking advantage of the hot floor separating them, speaking his mind without worrying about ending up in a bloody heap of broken limbs. 

You don’t realize you’ve started trembling until Melshi’s knuckles stroke over your cheek, soothing in their repetitiveness. The desire to close your eyes, to bury your face against his leg and shut out the world is near-irresistible, but Keef’s voice brings you back to focus.

“We’re cheaper than droids and easier to replace.”

Kino scoffs. “Please. Those aren’t even your words, they’re Melshi’s.” There’s a clatter of a plate being reattached to the wall. “You might have been able to convince that imbecile to join your plot, but you won’t convince me.” 

Your body stiffens, all of Melshi’s efforts to soften you undone in an instant. Slowly, you move to sit up on your knees, looking at the side of his face, searching for—an answer, an explanation, anything.

Melshi stares at his fisted hands in his lap, so still you’re not even sure he’s breathing. Then, he swallows hard, your eyes tracking the movement of his throat, and he’s nodding his head, confirming everything.

He agreed to help Keef and Birnok plan an escape. If the guards catch even the slightest whiff of his involvement, he’ll be killed on the spot. And where does that leave you? Lost and alone with a head full of dreams depicting an impossible future.

No more house full of sunlight. No more infant held to your chest. No more Melshi. 

Those wouldn’t be dreams anymore. They’d be nightmares.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, pressing a hand to your stomach.

The air between you shifts, heavy with tension and a promise whatever happens next will have permanent consequences. 

“Nobody’s listening to us,” Keef’s saying across the room, pacing around his cell. If there’s a tempest within Melshi, then Keef’s got the fire of a sun, harsh and blazing. He’s come a long way from the wary turtle he was on his first day.

“Dreamer.” Melshi’s looking at you now with eyes burning bright in the dimness, a note of pleading in his voice. “I did it for us.” 

He reaches out a hand, but there’s too much hitting you all at once. An avalanche of upsetting events. Your negative pregnancy, Ulaf’s behavior, the deaths on level two, now this—something fractures inside of you, tender and throbbing, and you’re flinching backwards before you can think twice.

“Don’t.” The word tastes like blood in your mouth. “I-I can’t…Just not right now. Please, Melshi.” 

You never call him Melshi anymore, not even when you’re pissed at him. Maker, it hurts, seeing the pain written all over his face, how his hand retracts to his side into a curled fist of self-restraint. He recognizes the sound of his name for what it is: a request for distance in this cramped fishbowl of a space. 

“Nobody’s listening!” Keef shouts, an explosion of pent up rage let loose upon the white cell walls, lingering in the air like static for minutes afterwards.

But he’s wrong. 

Melshi’s listening. 

He listens to your words and he listens to your silence when you curl into a ball on the other end of the cot, as far away from him as you can manage. He doesn’t make an attempt to touch you. Not a single one.

Melshi listens and he obeys.

It’s your worst night at Narkina 5, shivering from the cold air and heartache ripping a hole in your chest. And you know the second you reach out a hand, he’ll be there, wrapping himself around you, pressing kisses over every inch of skin, returning warmth to your body. That’s the thought that hurts worse than anything.

I’ll take care of her. Whatever she needs.

He’s willing to do anything for you, even sign up for a plan he believes will get him killed. He’s a fool.

But then, so are you.

You think about how you’d stood on the floor of the sleeping block what feels like a lifetime ago, willing to fry to death to prove a point. A point you still believe in with every fiber of your being.

The only thing you and Melshi can depend on is each other. You’re each other’s greatest strengths and biggest weak spots. Two halves of the same whole. Neither of you will last long in this world without the other. 

His ending is your ending, no leftover ink in the pen for additional chapters. And if this is where it stops, right here in Narkina 5 where it all began, so be it. 

But fuck if you won’t go down fighting until your last breath for a softer conclusion.

—

“Together,” you tell him in the morning, holding his face between your hands. “We do this together or not at all.”

There are dark circles beneath his eyes, hair an unkempt mess, and yet he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“I can’t promise we’ll make it.” 

There are two unspoken meanings—he can’t promise the escape will be successful or that you’ll both survive the attempt—and you acknowledge them both with a nod.

“Then don’t,” you say, resting your forehead against his as the rest of the inmates begin to stir awake, a new day beginning. “Lie to me instead.”

“Can I-” his tongue sweeps across his lower lip, breath hitching, “Please dream, can I touch you?”

“Yes, Rue,” you all but plead, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s passion and heat and raw neediness, lips moving, biting, devouring, and it’ll never be enough. You’ll always want more of him and his touch, his taste, his scent, frantically craving everything that makes him your Rue. 

Eventually pulling apart, your eyes lazily blink open, distracted for a second by the redness of his swollen lips before noticing his serious expression.

“Don’t be afraid of the future, dream.” His voice is just a faint murmur, fingertips brushing over your temple. “No matter what happens, I'll be with you. Everything will be alright.”

You know he’s lying, but you swallow the words, savoring their bittersweetness. Just in case. Just in case the very worst should come to pass and you find yourself on your own—you’ll have them to numb away the pain until you’re in his arms again. In this life or whatever follows next.

—

You swear to yourself, prior to stepping into the skybridge, that you’re not going to allow your emotions to overwhelm you again. 

If not for the news the night shift brings with them, you think your resolve would’ve lasted longer than twenty seconds. 

“It’s Unit Two-Five,” one of the men across the barrier says, wide-eyed and urgent. “They were fried out.”

You step closer to Melshi, catching his eye when he looks over his shoulder. Whatever he sees on your face has him reaching to intertwine your fingers. For perhaps the first time though, his closeness doesn’t immediately bring you comfort. 

Around you, your tablemates exchange looks of confusion and concern, hesitant to believe the gruesome details being hurled at them as fact. 

Xaul says something—a question, you think, his eyebrows so furrowed they nearly touch—but it’s muffled by the roar of your heartbeat in your ears, the ragged heaves of your breath.

Ulaf pulls on your sleeve, startling you. “What’s going on? What happened on two?”

His eyes are squinty again and slightly glossy, adding further fuel to the panic burning a hole in your gut.

“I’m not sure—”

“You think we’re a bunch of liars?” Another inmate from the night shift interrupts, an older fellow with white hair and unexpected venom in his tone. “They were murdered like rats. All of them—gone.”

Melshi leans closer, hackles rising protectively in reaction to the hostility. Your eyes flick between them nervously, then to Kino as he approaches. Any optimism he’ll put an end to the clash before it officially starts fades once you get a better glimpse of his face.

The manager looks like he’s aged thirty years since entering the skybridge, skin a shade paler than usual, making the gray of his beard twice as distinctive. No one else seems to notice the worried pinch of his brow, and a part of you envies their obliviousness. Seeing the cracks in Kino’s composure reminds you how painfully mortal he truly is.

“Who’s saying this?” 

“Maintenance tech.” It’s the peacekeeper who answers him, a woman a few years older than you with a curtain of dull green hair nearly reaching her waist. She sets a hand in-between the shoulder blades of the white-haired inmate, draining some of the heat from his fiery temper. 

It’s jarring, seeing this glimpse of the kind of peacekeeper you’d be if you’d been assigned elsewhere. There’s not a single emotion in her face, blank, soulless eyes staring out from hollow sockets. You’ve seen the same look on other women in the showers, so deeply withdrawn inside themselves it’s a wonder they’re conscious enough to put one foot in front of the other. 

“He said they fried the whole bridge,” she continues monotonously, oblivious or, more likely, indifferent to the further wrinkling of Kino’s forehead. Not her unit, not her responsibility. “Told Zinska everything.”

Everybody on your side of the skybridge within hearing distance straightens at the name. Zinska’s the floor manager of the night shift and as equally respected as Kino. Unlike Kino though who uses his voice as a tool to control the masses, Zinska can strike fear into hearts with merely a look.

“Why were they killed?” Keef asks, sounding torn between revolted by the guards’ actions and incensed on the victims’ behalves.

The peacekeeper nods with her head down the row. “Ask him yourself.”

You peer around Melshi’s body at the incoming tall, dark-skinned manager. His face is impossible to read except for the tightness in the corners of his eyes, the grinding of his jaw. 

Kino must notice these traits too, voice dropping into that low and fragile state again. “Zinska?”

The other man sucks in a breath, steeling himself. “The tech heard they were making trouble. It got too out of hand and,” he shrugs a limp shoulder, “a choice was made.”

You press a hand over your mouth, holding back the whimper climbing up your throat. A whole skybridge—a hundred lives—killed with the single press of a button, and everyone’s supposed to continue working like all is fine and fucking dandy. 

When the PA system clicks on, you flinch at the volume, body struggling against the chill in your veins to obey the commands. It feels like it takes hours to lift your arms up, teeth chattering so hard you worry they’ll shatter. 

“I don’t understand,” Ulaf says from behind, a slur to his voice that wasn’t there before. “What went wrong on two?”

“They set ‘em all free,” Melshi answers, solemn and biting.

Kino’s on him faster than you can blink, delivering a solid punch against his stomach that has Melshi crumpling with a breathless grunt. His arm pulls back to strike another blow, and your instincts finally come online again, shielding Melshi with your own body, eyes squeezing shut in expectation of pain.

The hit doesn’t land, thank the Maker.

Keef comes to your rescue, hauling Kino backwards by grabbing him around the middle. “Stop it,” he scolds, shoving at the older man again until blue eyes lock onto him. “We need to be careful. The less they think we know, the better.”

For a tense second you think Keef’s going to be the next punching bag, but then Kino’s silently nodding his head, submitting to the logic. You exhale a sigh of relief.

Melshi slowly straightens back to full height, breathing shallowly through his mouth. “I’m fine,” he tells you, a hushed mumble accompanied by a gentle pat against your elbow, urging you to get back in line behind him.

You reluctantly obey, raising your hands again along with the three men. If you squint hard enough, you think you can see their strings as well. Puppets, every last one of you.

“Tighten up and listen!” Kino calls out, slipping so seamlessly back into his alpha role it nearly gives you whiplash. “It’s a rumor. Maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t. We have heard nothing. So we’re going to keep our mouths shut, our heads down, and carry on with our shift.”

The door to the work ring opens and the inmates shuffle out of the skybridge wordlessly despite the heavy weight of unspoken questions adding further strain to the tense atmosphere. Keef’s right, it’s better not to draw unnecessary attention and it’s a well-established fact there are no answers on Narkina 5. No use wasting oxygen.

Still, when you pass by Kino, you almost stumble at the sound of his shaky whisper what the fuck is going on. 

For both your sakes, you say nothing, pretending not to hear.

—

Keef switches places with you again, but even his quickness isn’t enough to cover for all of Ulaf’s mistakes. It’s as if there’s a delay in the old man’s comprehension. Tasks he’s done every day for years, easy to complete with a mere twist of the hand, are now performed at a sluggish pace, pulling the entire group down in rankings. 

Every time he drops a tool or forgets to lift the widget’s arm, a wave of déjà vu sweeps over you, rewinding your memories back to Tress’ last shift. It’s the bewildered expression on Ulaf’s face though, growing in intensity with every hour and every new widget, that concerns you the most. It’s the look of a man who hasn’t the faintest idea where he is or what’s going on.

He lasts longer on his feet than you expect, right up until the final alarm buzzes. He flinches. Hard. Agony visible in every scrunched line. On Ulaf’s right, Keef leans closer, concerned, while on the left Xaul lays a careful hand on his shoulder, quietly uttering his name. There’s no response. Not even the faintest twitch to indicate awareness.

Kino’s announcing the first and last place tables when Ulaf’s breathing abruptly hitches, eyes vacant and mouth slack-jawed. There’s barely half a second to process the change before he’s collapsing against the table.

Keef grabs Ulaf’s forearms, knuckles straining, while Xaul holds the rest of his weight up by his underarms, preventing the old man from falling onto the floor. Jemboc does his best to cover them with his broad frame, purposefully widening his stance. The rest of you can only watch with held breaths, listening to Ulaf’s shuddering and Keef’s quiet assurances—it’s okay, you’re okay, it’ll pass soon.

You almost start to believe them yourself. Almost. Then the box is turned on and those assurances crumble into dust, blown away by Table One’s tortured screams.

—

As the tables start lining up to leave the work room, Kino snags Keef and Melshi by the collars of their scrubs.

“Get him to his cell,” he orders, no room for argument. Of course he’d been paying attention to the ongoing drama, sharp eyes missing nothing.

“He needs a doctor,” you insist, watching the pair all but drag Ulaf towards the door.

“Not here,” is the snappish reply. Kino scrubs a hand over his face, tossing a quick look up at the window. It’s empty of guards at the moment, but the meaning isn’t lost on you.

If they realize just how bad Ulaf’s condition is, what’s to stop them from choosing to kill him too?

It’s a distressing question that follows you out of the work room and sinks its fangs into your heart when Ulaf crumples in the middle of the skybridge. Keef and Melshi gently lower him down, joining him on the floor, and there’s something so pathetically vulnerable about the way Ulaf’s head is cushioned against Keef’s chest it physically hurts you to look at them.

Kino’s shoving at everyone to keep moving, the palm of his hand harsh against your middle back. You know you can’t stay, but it’s only when he swaps places with Melshi and you hear Melshi’s soft c’mon, dream that your feet find motivation to unstick from the floor.

You steal one last glance over your shoulder as Melshi wraps an arm around your waist. You know this moment with Ulaf—white as a sheet, more corpse than man—will be tattooed on the backs of your eyelids for months.

What you don’t know is that it’ll also be the last time you see him alive.

And when that news breaks, the bomb in the heart of Narkina 5 explodes with it.

—

Your body’s amped up with tension and so much dread you can’t bring yourself to eat, skipping dinner for a second evening in a row. You pace instead, pausing at the edge of the cell every thirty seconds to peer out and look for any signs of the three missing inmates.  

Melshi makes himself a plate, but it sits beside him on the cot, untouched, one eye on you and one eye also watching the end of the hall. 

Neither of you are idiots. When one minute becomes five and five becomes ten and they’re still not back yet, it’s obvious something terrible has happened. In the past the issue of not knowing what that something was didn’t bother you so much. As long as you and Melshi were both safe and together, then you didn’t think the trouble was worth worrying about.

But now, after what’s happened on level two, how volatile and unpredictable the guards have become, not knowing has never felt more dangerous. You curse your past naivety. Whoever said ignorance is blissful was a fucking liar. Ignorance is a snake winding itself around its victim’s throat, innocent in its approach until it’s wound so tightly they suffocate from their own cluelessness.

Without any details to cling to, your mind floods with violent possibilities of Ulaf, Keef, and Kino’s fates, each one bloodier than the last. 

You press your forehead against Melshi’s leg, eyes falling shut. A second later you feel a hand settle on top of your head. I’m with you, the gesture says, and it’s all you need to switch off your brain’s gruesome imaginings. At least for now.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say, quiet and sincere and so damn selfish. As soon as they’re out you want to take the words and shove them back down your throat again, but it’s too late now. They’re in the air, on the walls, impossible to ignore. 

You keep your eyes closed, head bowed, scared of what you might see if you meet his gaze. Of what he might see in yours.

“Yeah?” Melshi returns, something in his husky voice, a hint of fondness, of timidity, that has your heartbeat skipping. 

It should annoy you, the control he has over you, how the mere sound of your name on his lips can send you melting to the floor. It should annoy you, but then he tilts your whole world upside down, saying things like—

“I’m glad it’s you, too.”

You look up, no thoughts in your head, no more fear gnawing at your chest. His brown eyes are softer than you anticipate, looking down at you like you’re something precious, a smile tugging at his lips. The one nobody else ever gets to see. 

And you can’t think of anything more thrilling.

—

The floors turn cold with an echoing clap followed by the telltale creak of the door opening at the end of the hall. One by one heads poke outside the cells, leaning as far as they dare for a glimpse. Melshi practically glues himself to your backside, holding a fistful of your scrub to prevent you from losing your balance, toes straining in your efforts for an unobstructed view. 

Then you see them, two figures striding forward. Kino, eyes ahead, shoulders drawn back, ignoring the questions tossed at him from both sides. And Keef, one step behind, lips moving but speaking too low for you to hear yet. Behind them, the door shuts and the floor lights turn red again, preventing any pauses until they’re back in their cells where they belong.

Ulaf’s absence doesn’t go unmissed, your shoulders sinking even before you hear Keef confirm to Taga the old man is dead.

“What happened?” Jemboc questions.

Kino steps inside his cell in cold silence, but Keef isn’t so quick to let him off the hook.

“Tell them,” he urges. “They need to know!”

Xaul straightens from where he’d been leaning against his cot. “Tell us what?”

You and Keef both look at Kino, waiting for him to take charge of the situation, but he keeps his back turned, face hidden. Keef’s mouth twists into a frown, disappointed.

“A doctor came,” he explains, filling in the gaps himself. “He told us what happened on two.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Taga says, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “They fried the whole bridge.”

“It’s—” There’s a waver in Keef’s voice. He pauses, swallows, tries again, “It’s worse than that.”

“Holy shit,” someone mutters. Ham, you think.

“He said they made a mistake,” Keef’s shouting now, making sure every inmate hears, “and sent back a man who’d just been released! They fried two shifts to keep it quiet!”

Behind you, Melshi stiffens, every line of his body coiled tight with tension.

No, you want to say against the sensation the floor’s disappeared beneath your feet, leaving you in sickening limbo. No, that can’t be true because once your number’s up they can’t hold you anymore, they can’t hurt you or control you or do any-fucking-thing to you because your sentence is over. You’re free. 

Jemboc’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. “You really heard him say all that?”

“I don’t believe it,” an unseen inmate further down yells back with a condescending scoff.

“He’s only a doctor,” another pipes up, “how would he know—”

“No one is getting out!” Kino shouts, a thunderous explosion startling the whole unit into silence. 

You stand there, breath frozen in your lungs, exhausted and wide awake at the same time. 

Slowly, Kino turns around, sending a chill coursing through you at the sight of his tortured expression, as if his heart’s been carved out of his chest. But underneath the anguish, there’s rage wafting off of him, visible in the throbbing vein on his neck and the gritting of his teeth.

“The rumors are true. They’re not letting us go. Ever.” His voice has become a flat monotone that unnerves everyone even more than the shout did. He inhales a shallow breath, looking up and down the row, purposefully drifting his eyes over every face. “We’re gonna die here. Or wherever they place us next.”

A beat follows, words sinking in, and whispers are exchanged. You tune them out, aware of nothing else except Melshi’s arm pulling you even closer and Kino drawing back his shoulders, bracing himself for what comes next.

“So let’s put our heads together—” he says, calmly packing away his anger for a later date. Back to looking like the shift manager you know and respect in a matter of mere seconds. “—and start figuring out tomorrow’s escape.”

—

It has to be tomorrow, Keef argues, because tomorrow a new man will come to replace Ulaf. Tomorrow the lift will lower and that moment, that precise, singular moment will mark the first strike of rebellion. 

There won’t be a better shot than this. Waiting will only guarantee the guards will strengthen their numbers. It’s vital everyone must work together or everyone will fail. 

So a plan is formed. It’s rushed and full of holes and there’s no guarantee everyone will make it or that it’ll even make it past step one, but it’s a plan nevertheless. A plan with a chance of working. A plan to never see these white walls and widgets again.

And for that sole reason alone, everyone agrees it’s worth the risks.

—

While the rest of the sleep block spends their final night in prison asleep, your head is filled with racing thoughts of violence and dread and nasty what ifs. You try to find peace in the feeling of Melshi’s face burrowed against your neck, the warm puffs of air on your skin, but inevitably your mind drifts back to unpleasant ideas, to the hellfire of the box and Ulaf’s shuddering end.

A foot brushes against your shin, your only forewarning before Melshi’s stirring awake and rolling on top of you, bracing himself on his forearms. 

“You’re thinking too much, little dreamer,” he says, voice rough and thick with sleep but there’s concern flickering in his dark eyes, a candle flame sending orange heat all the way to your toes.

“Sorry,” you murmur, reaching a hand up to brush over his cheek, fingertips ghosting over the tight lines at the corners of his eyes.

He turns to press a kiss against your palm, the tender inside of your wrist. The scrape of his stubble threatens to drag out a moan from your throat but something else escapes instead.

“You ever think about having kids?”

Melshi’s brow lifts, surprised, then pensive. The moment feels delicate, balancing on a high-wire, too much pressure to either side and it’s a long way down. Nervousness skitters across your skin like ants the longer he stays silent, and the urge to squirm beneath him is near maddening, but his larger frame keeps you effectively pinned.

“I have,” he says, and if he hadn’t been this close, noses brushing, sharing the same air, you wouldn’t have heard the soft reply.

“You—” Your eyes widen, the tight ball of fear and insecurity you’ve been carrying since your examination daring to loosen just a little bit. “R-really?”

“Really.” Melshi confirms with a nod, but there’s something shy about the way he hides his face in the next breath, mouthing the words against the underside of your jaw. “It’s not a thought I indulge often,” he admits. “But the idea of a little you running around, it’s…a future I wouldn’t mind.” A pause follows, another tender kiss planted. “The galaxy needs more dreamers.”

There’s an urge to kiss him silly for the sappy statement. There’s also the urge to roll over with a groan so he doesn’t see the embarrassing watering of your eyes–it’s unfair really, how he can look so soft and gorgeous when he’s got sleep lines on his face and staring at you like that. The urge to kiss him wins out in the end.

He moans against your mouth, a sound that has sparks of arousal bursting in your blood, and your last night in prison is spent entangled together, two bodies blurring together in the dark, making love like you have all the time in the world.

—

“Listen up,” Kino announces first thing in the morning once the lights have flicked on.

Up and down the row prisoners stand on the edges of their cells, shoulders drawn back, alert, listening to their leader’s voice not unlike soldiers preparing to enter a warzone. 

“We are done counting shifts,” he says, voice so cold and firm you swear it drops the temperature of the whole room. “There is only then and now.”

You stand next to Melshi, meeting Keef’s gaze across the floor, his eyes full of flames. It’s funny, the contrast of fire and ice, and yet for perhaps the first time since Keef’s arrival the men are on the same page as each other, fighting for the same cause: to see Narkina 5 fall.

“No sense in warning the night shift. They’ll hear about it one way or another soon enough.” Kino pauses for only a second, nodding his head almost as if to assure himself this is actually happening. “There is only one way out. Let’s give it our best shot.”

The floor turns cold. 

You swallow hard, lining up behind Melshi and Keef.

One way out, you think, a mantra against the nervous trembling afflicting your body. One way out.

—

The tables work like it’s a usual day, putting together widgets, listening to Kino barking orders and competing for first place rank. Perfect little cogs powering the Empire’s machine. Any guard who happened to pass by and glance through the overhead window wouldn’t suspect a rebellion brewing, hiding in plain sight. 

And with every passing hour, step one of the plan moves closer and closer until it’s finally time.

“We’re really doing this?” Jemboc asks, a nervous crack to his voice. He looks to Xaul. “You’re still on board?”

“I want out,” the redhead responds, face determined. “Don’t care how.”

Taga, on the other hand, looks two seconds away from a severe panic attack. His hands shake so hard he can barely use them as he tries to line up his wrench to tighten one of the loose bolts. “I’m gonna die,” he says, no louder than a brittle whisper. “I won’t make it.”

“Stop,” Keef growls, grabbing hold of Taga’s wrist in a vice-like grip. “Don’t die until you put up a fucking fight.”

In another life, Keef would make a good shift manager, you think, admiring the effect his words had in instantly stilling Taga’s hands. Every challenge thrown at him he navigates without completely losing himself to fear or doubt. A rare blend of vigilant and clever and so damn stubborn. Everything Table Five needed to get to this point.

As you watch him walk towards the refresher, a tool hidden up his sleeve, a thought skips across your mind and then sinks in as such a bone-jarring fact it startles you.

No matter how this ends, you’ll miss him.

And you don’t even know his real name.

—

“Where is he?” Taga’s eyes are flicking between the refresher, the guard window, and Ham so quickly it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets. “He’s been in there forever.”

You take the overhead drill from Melshi, briefly locking gazes. 

A subtle lift of his eyebrow. You good?

Taking a deep breath, throat feeling tight, you nod your head. I’m good.

That eyebrow stays lifted, lines of skepticism and concern creasing his forehead, but he knows better than to keep pressing. Not now, of all times. Not when hell is this close to breaking loose.

“Just keep your calm,” Ham tells Taga, but you don’t miss the dart of his blue eyes towards the refresher. “Keef won’t let us down.”

Not intentionally, at least, your brain can’t help but tack on unhelpfully. You don’t know much about breaking water pipes, but even with tools you can’t imagine it’s an easy task. If he doesn’t finish the step in time, the rest of the plan might as well crumble into pieces.

You look up at the guard window, heart skipping a beat at the sight of a man peering inside. His eyes sweep the floor and then he steps away to tell the other guard at the control booth it’s good to open the door—exactly as Kino foretold last night while planning.

“It’s time,” Melshi says to the table.

Xaul whistles a short, piercing note, slicing through the noise of the work room like a knife.

There’s a change in the air, a prickle along your spine, and every inmate reacts to the cue like trained dogs. You let go of the drill and reach for your trusted wrench instead, grounding yourself in the familiar weight of it in your hand before hiding it up your sleeve. Within the span of mere seconds, the whole room has subtly armed themselves with makeshift weapons. 

There’s still no sign of Keef.

The alarm blares, signaling the imminent arrival of the new prisoner. Damn it, you sink your teeth into your lower lip. C’mon Keef. Now or never.

“On program,” the announcer instructs as the door opens. 

Standing at the back of the room, there’s something intensely satisfying about seeing the prisoners armed and dangerous, sights set on the same target. This fight has been a long time coming, and the enemy hasn’t the slightest idea Unit Five-Two-D is about to throw the first punch.

The two guards with blasters step out onto the upper deck, but it’s not them that has your eyes widening. Keef hastily emerges from the refresher, hands on his head. Strands of wet hair stick to his forehead, not because of sweat though. No, you realize, a weight lifting from your shoulders when he nods at Kino. It’s water.

He did it. He fucking did it.

And the guards above are entirely oblivious, not even noticing when Keef moves closer, preparing for when the lift lowers. 

“New man on the floor.” The door opens again. A prison steps out with his hands on his head, dark-headed and visibly frightened. A part of you almost feels bad there’s no way to warn him what’s about to happen. “Everyone hold positions.”

There’s a painfully tense, drawn-out moment before the lift descends where the only sounds you can hear are your erratic heartbeat in your eardrums and the rhythmic buzzing of the alarm. Everyone’s on edge, recognizing this moment for what it truly is: a dividing line. Everything familiar will be swept away, never to be known again.

A resounding click echoes off the walls, followed in the next second by the whirring of gears as the lift activates. 

It’s time.

Xaul, hands still in position, whips around, nearly nailing Ham in the face with an elbow. “What’d you say to me?”

Ham shakes his head, defensive. “I didn’t say anything.”

The redhead isn’t appeased, lowering his arms and squaring his shoulders. His lips twist into a cold scowl. “If you have a fucking problem with me, then you should spit it out.”

You take a breath, reminding yourself it’s just an act as the two men lunge at each other in a fit of slapping hands and curse words. It’s part of the plan, a distraction to keep the guards’ attention off of Keef and Birnok. Still, despite being in the know, your body still shudders with panic when the blasters immediately take aim at your table, booming voices shouting to get back on program.

Taga and Jemboc join the scuffle, attempting to pull apart the brawling inmates. The shouts from the upper deck intensify, increasing the volatility of the work room to a near fever pitch. And as far as distractions go, this one proves to be a perfect one. With all eyes on the fight, it’s almost comically easy for Keef to jam the lift with a hydrospanner, grinding it to an earsplitting halt.

“Now!” Kino orders.

You don’t need to be told twice. Together, you and Melshi yank on the overhead drill’s cables, fingers aching and jaws clenching until the piece of machinery comes crashing down. Other tables follow suit, drills falling with the same explosive heaviness as bombs, flashes of fiery sparks bursting out of the corner of your eye as the cables whip around in the air like angry snakes, deprived of their output sources.

Birnok makes an attempt at climbing the lift, but the sudden increase of weight proves too much for the wedged hydrospanner. With an ominous groan, the tool slips and the elevator loses its stability, tilting like a seesaw and sending Birnok falling on his back onto the ground.

It’s then the guards on the deck lose their last speck of patience, blasters firing at every moving target, including the new man who had just finished smashing in the face of a guard with his own zap rod. 

The fight will never be a fair one so long as they’re armed. You pull out the wrench you’d stored up your sleeve, throw it with a battle cry at one of the guard’s faces and immediately grin with a sick twist of satisfaction when it strikes his nose with an outburst of blood.

Everything within reach of the prisoners becomes a projectile, tools and loose pieces of metal striking the guards and pinging off the deck railing. Your head becomes filled to the brim with a cacophony of noises, impossible to focus on. Every second feels chilling, dangerous, like it could very well be your last. 

With each new body dropping dead on the floor, their scrubs singed from blaster wounds, pressure starts building in your chest, threatening to consume you whole. There’s Donovo from Table Two, pale green eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling. He’d been arrested for stealing medicine for his sick son. Alo, one of the youngest inmates in the unit who will now never see his next birthday, half of his face blown off. Kharzed, Cymin, Sosh…slaughtered, dead, gone.

You throw another tool, reacting without thinking, but your aim is off. It hits the wall several feet left of the guard, failing to stop him from firing another shot. You can only watch, dread bubbling in your throat, as Birnok’s struck in the middle of his chest. Dead before he hits the floor.

Your vision swims and narrows on the red puddle forming on the white floor, watching how it slowly widens and glistens in the light. 

You’re no stranger to bloodshed or violence. You’ve killed someone before, watched the life fade from their eyes and their lungs exhale one final heave. You should be better than this. You need to be better than this. But here you stand, frozen like a pathetic deer in the path of an incoming vehicle, unable to feel your legs, heart pounding in silent terror.

The blaster shot doesn’t register at first.

There’s just a flash of heat against your side, similar enough to the time you’d burned yourself with the welding laser that it startles you out of your trance. You stagger backwards a step, knocking against the side of a table, and that’s when you finally feel it—white-hot, excruciating agony, like your blood is gasoline and someone’s lit you on fire from the inside out.

Fuck, you think, blinking rapidly against the sudden wave of nausea and dizziness. Holy fucking shit.

Your breath comes out in a shallow, anguished hiss when you finally gather your wits enough to glance down at the wound. A blaster bolt had skimmed against the flesh above your hip, searing the skin and leaving behind a nasty looking gash. Blood soaks into the fabric of your scrubs, drips down onto your bare feet and onto the floor, but you’re still standing, still breathing, and that has to count for something. 

Before you can convince your throbbing body to move, you’re seized by frantic hands and dragged behind the table, hidden from the guards’ deadly aim. Even as every fiber of your being screams and burns, Melshi’s touch is instantly recognized. You meet his brown eyes, see the livid fury and raw fear battling for dominance in them, and past that, your own reflection. You look…well, there’s really no way to sugarcoat it. You look as weak as Ulaf had in his final moments.

“Stay with me, dreamer,” Melshi says, voice cracking over your nickname. He keeps leaning in close, hands hovering over your arms, your face, the wound, but doesn’t touch you again. Like you’d shatter into pieces if he did. He swallows hard, expression still torn between anger and concern. “Keep your eyes on me, alright?”

“Always, Rue,” you answer, sounding more breathless than you intend, and manage to snag his sleeve in a weak grip. He could easily pull away, but instead the gesture is his undoing, compelling him to grab the back of your neck and press his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be fine,” he all but growls the words against your lips, breath hot against your face. You don’t know which of you he’s trying to reassure more, but it doesn’t matter. Two halves of the same whole and all that.

You just wish your half wasn’t losing quite so much blood.

But feeling Melshi this close, real and living and all yours—it floods you with a feeling even more powerful than the torturous hurt. You want to live, damn it. Even if it’s just long enough to see the sun again, to feel it on your skin. 

Just a little longer, you plead to the Maker, to the forces of the universe. Just a little bit more time.

Your internal begging is interrupted by the distinctive thud of a body hitting the floor, close enough you can’t help reflexively jolting then immediately bite back a groan. Melshi turns to look, but you don’t, too overwhelmed by the list of victims already taking up space in your head. 

Taga’s distressed cry of “Xaul!” is like ice water poured over you. 

You freeze, breath caught in our lungs, thoughts stuck on a loop of no no no no no!

Because Xaul—he’s not just a cellmate, not just another name. He’s one of your boys. And he can’t…he can’t be…

“No. No, please,” you choke out, pulling feebly on Melshi’s sleeve, eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

Melshi’s hands cup your face, preventing you from seeing the rest of the room. He takes up your whole field of vision. Mouth set in a grim line, eyes looking down at your wound again with such tortured pain it’s as if he’s the one who’s bleeding out. Never have you seen your lover look so defeated.

Your mouth opens, a quiet attempt of reassurance poised on the tip of your tongue, only for another voice to rise above the chaos, harsh and strained with desperation.

“Spark the floor! Spark the fucking floor!”

What does that even-?

Another shout blasts out from a different part of the room, Kino this time, you’re certain of it. “Get on the tables!”

A brief flash of clarity hits you, remembering the broken pipe and Keef’s wet hair. There was a game you used to play as a child, where you’d clamber and leap across the furniture, evading all contact with the floor because in your imagination it was no longer carpet but boiling hot lava. Interesting, how life likes to repeat itself sometimes. Except instead of make believe fun, there’s the very real threat of fatal electrocution. 

Inmates echo Kino’s warning to each other, voices overlapping and bleeding together, coupled with the sounds of rushing footsteps rivaling a stampede. It’s too much all at once. Makes you want to grit your teeth and slap your hands over your ears. 

Melshi wraps his arms around your middle, yanking you upwards onto the table without hesitation. Your vision loses focus, another wave of pain exploding from your side, punching out a sharp keen from your mouth you’d thought only dying animals could make. 

But then again, that’s exactly what you are. A dying animal.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Melshi holds you against his chest, but his voice is almost lost to sizzling sparks and wailing. Lips brush against your jaw, a plea for forgiveness. “I know it hurts. Just keep breathing, dream. In and out.”

You force yourself to obey, taking a breath through your nose, then another one, and another, denying the scream pressing insistently against the backs of your teeth. 

A shadow passes over your eyes, swallowing everything in darkness. You blink hard several times, slow to understand it’s not just you that’s been affected. The work room has lost power.

The pulse of silence that follows is so still it’s as if time has frozen this moment solid. And you realize, right then, this is the changing of the tide. Defense becomes offense. No going back.

You lift your head despite the protesting aches, searching for Kino. He stands near the center of the room, chest heaving, miraculously unscathed, surrounded by the bodies of those less fortunate. It’s such a poignant scene, so tragic. It must mean something, you think. Must stand for something. Or maybe your blood loss is making you delirious, you can’t tell anymore.

Kino’s gaze slowly raises from his feet to the stunned guards. Then, with his lips twisted in a snarl far more wolfish than man, he shouts a one word rallying cry, “Attack!”

And just like that—all hell breaks loose.

The inmates split into two groups: one half surging forward to conquer the lift, the rest resume throwing whatever’s within reach. The guards take aim again, flashes of red bolts lighting up the room, but panic has gripped them in its claws, more shots missing than killing. 

Melshi is quick to get you shielded behind the table again, doing a terrible job of hiding his worry when you don’t even groan at the movement. The gash doesn’t hurt anymore, numb in an odd way that’s as pleasant as it is troubling. Your eyelids flutter, fighting against unconsciousness. Just a little longer…

With your back to the battle, you don’t see Keef climb up the underside of the deck with an impressive display of strength and take out the guards with vicious cunningness. All you know is the firing abruptly stops and there’s a genuine second you think you’ve lost your hearing. But then Melshi’s lifting his head, the hold on your arm tightening, and when he looks back at you, his defeated nature has been replaced with steely resolution.

“We’re getting out of here, you hear me?” he says, putting an arm around your back to heft you upright. “Everything will be alright, dreamer. I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to stop us.”

“Together,” you murmur once you’re on your feet, squeezing his hand to keep your balance. There’s a metallic taste on your tongue, words sticking to the roof of your mouth. “We-we go together.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time, that’s right.” Melshi urges you towards the lift where inmates have begun climbing to freedom. “Just keep moving, dream. Don’t stop.”

—

There’s a cabinet full of weapons beside the control booth, enough blasters and zap rods to arm almost half of the prisoners. Melshi grabs a pistol, holding it confidently, familiar with its weight and design, then starts helping Keef and Kino pass out the rest to the others.

The thundering of footsteps on the stairs makes your heartbeat stumble. It was only a matter of time before the rest of Narkina 5 caught on there was rebellion, you had just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. Guards will come barreling down, blasters ready, and they’ll fire on anyone in scrubs and—no. You’ve lost too many people already. 

When you see the first glimpse of a dark uniform you don’t think, you just react. 

You snatch a blaster from an inmate’s unsteady grip and click the safety off before firing twice. The first guard dies with a hole in his stomach, collapsing in a lifeless heap. The second takes the hit in the shoulder, stumbling back against the wall with a grunt. Heart in your throat, your trembling hand moves to aim for a third shot, but Keef is quicker, ending the other man’s life with a solid blast to the chest.

Your breath comes out in a shuddered exhale, lungs pinched with lingering terror. Fuck, that could have gone so much worse, you think, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Hey, none of that. Stay with me,” Melshi chides, patting at your cheek. You slowly blink your heavy eyes back open, letting out a low whine that cuts off when you register Keef’s carefully sliding the blaster out of your quivering hand. 

“Nice shot,” is all he says when he sees you staring, giving the weapon back to the inmate you’d taken it from.

You don’t respond, distracted by another wet trail of warmth leaking from your wound. Nausea flips your stomach upside down. Shit.

“Shit,” Melshi echoes your thoughts aloud, somehow sounding pissed and scared at the same time. He looks to Keef and there’s a silent exchange that follows between the two men, expressions pinched and eyes dark. You have the unpleasant suspicion you’re the subject.

Keef’s the one to break away first, turning back to the cabinet and searching for something on its lowest shelf. He pulls out a metal case with red markings—medical supplies, you recognize immediately—and throws something small from it at Melshi.

Melshi glares at the object like it’s personally insulted him. “She needs a bacta patch.”

“Stim-shot’s the best option she’s got.”

Melshi’s lips twist into a scowl, but there isn’t time to argue about the circumstances. He knows it and you know it. So when you nudge him with your arm, he only pauses the briefest of seconds to murmur another apology before sinking the dispenser’s needle into the flesh of your thigh. 

There’s a sharp prick of hurt that manages to beat out the numbness. You hiss, pressing your forehead against Melshi’s shoulder, panting heavy breaths in time with your racing pulse. It’s a jittery, itchy sensation, this flood of adrenaline surging through your body making your muscles spasm and tingle. Too many similarities to the box’s aftermath for your liking, but the stim-shot does fulfill its purpose of getting your body to briefly forget about the injury.

“How’s she looking?” Kino asks, voice faintly raspier than usual.

You lift your head enough to meet the manager’s frown, making a face at him. “I’m not dead yet.”

Melshi makes a noise deep in his chest at that, a rumbling sort of growl. Maker, you really are a pack of wolves, aren’t you? Wolves and puppets desperate to be human again. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry at the thought. Feels like your head is swimming, thoughts drifting from static to the memory of Melshi’s promise and back again. 

I’ll never leave you, I’ll never leave you, I’ll never leave you.

“Good to hear it,” Kino replies with an approving nod. “It’s a long way up. Lots more inmates to free.”

“Enough talking then.” Keef lifts his blaster. “Let’s go.”

—

Everything after seems to happen in hazy flashes, faces and shapes coming in and out of focus. Like you’re watching the events unfold through someone else’s eyes.

Kino and Keef split off from everyone else, heading upstairs towards the eighth level command center, intent to take control of the entire facility. 

Ham, sweet and blue-eyed Ham, runs down the halls like a man possessed, a wildness to him never before seen. He shoots a guard five times in the torso, the force of the hits knocking the screaming man over the deck railing of Unit Five-Four-D’s work room to his death.

“We’re getting out of here!” Ham yells, transforming the alarmed murmurs of the inmates into cheers of triumph.

A guard almost gets lucky when Melshi peers around a corner. His sharp gasp at the uncomfortably close bolt makes something tighten behind your ribs. He takes another breath to steady himself, then steps out and shoots the foe in the neck, decorating the walls in a spray of scarlet. It’s violent and grotesque, and if you weren’t riding the rush of a stim-shot with a hole in your side you’d grab him by the collar and kiss him silly.

Hurrying as quickly as you can over to the control console of Unit Five-One-D’s work room, you pull down the lever to open the doors. Next is the red button to lower the lift for the inmates to access.

“Join us,” Melshi yells at them with a jerk of his head. “Climb! Use whatever you–”

He’s interrupted by a swarm of guards charging forwards from the other hallway like they just popped into existence out of thin air, summoned by the loud voices. You instinctively duck to a crouch behind the console, but your eyes are on Melshi. Melshi, who barely has any time to react. Melshi, who is too exposed, too outnumbered. Melshi, who you aren’t ready to say goodbye to. 

There’s a mangled cry tearing its way out of your throat when a crackling of rapid blaster fire tears through the air. The guards crumple to the floor, smoking holes in the backs of their uniforms. 

Another group emerges from the hallway, this one outfitted in familiar white and orange scrubs. Only once your brain manages to push through the storm of anxiety and recognize Taga and Jemboc with blasters in their hands do you finally feel safe enough to stand again, hands clenching and unclenching restlessly.

Melshi nods at the group, a wordless thanks for the assist. There isn’t time to stop and make conversation. Every second of this escape attempt is precious. Can make the difference between dying a bloody death in the facility or getting a sweet taste of fresh air for the first time in years. 

So when Melshi takes your hand, heading for the stairs, you don’t tell him about the black spots multiplying at the corners of your vision or how heavy your lungs feel, each breath a wheeze forced between gritted teeth. 

He squeezes your hand tight enough to bruise, hearing the unspoken words in your silence as he always has.

Stay with me, the gesture says. Stay with me.

—

Kino’s voice booms throughout Narkina 5, down every hallway and corridor, into the ears of every prisoner and guard. “One way out! One way out! One way out!”

Three words. Simple on their own, but when chanted by the mouths of hundreds of men, loud and undaunted and fed up with the power imbalance—those words grow fangs, sharp and hungry. 

“One way out! One way out! One way out!”

The guards are wise to hide, cowering in dark corners with held breaths. They’d be torn apart within seconds if seen, nothing left except for their blood staining the bottoms of prisoners’ feet, marking the path to freedom.

Red’s never been your favorite color, but it almost sounds pretty put like that. Prettier than the rust-colored splotch on your scrubs anyhow. 

Reaching the top level, another wave of dizziness hits, too strong to withstand this time and your legs collapse underneath you. The world darkens for a second and someone curses—Melshi, you think faintly—but when your head lolls to the side to look, Keef is there, too, holding up your other arm.

“Keef,” you murmur, lips curling in a shaky smile. “Perfect timing.”

Behind him, Kino is still leading the chanting prisoners, pumping his fist in the air. 

And behind the manager, down a hall connecting to a landing bay—there’s sunlight.

Keef adjusts your arm over the back of his shoulders, dark eyes casting a critical glance at your wound, but there’s softness in his tone when he replies, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

—

There’s a moment, standing on the edge of the landing bay, men and women taking the plunge into the water below, Melshi and Keef at your sides, where you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. The kind usually felt at the conclusion of a great book, when you’re certain the characters are going to be alright. 

The sun is brighter than it had been in your memories and the wind’s howling in your ears. You might be crying but it’s hard to tell—everything’s gone numb, systems shutting down, content to just be here. To be free. 

Darkness is creeping in again at the edges. Not even the sun, blazing and beautiful, can chase it away. 

You force yourself to turn, to look at Melshi. He leans closer, hands cupping your face, a desperation in his eyes that threatens to rip another hole inside of you. His lips are moving, but there’s too much noise, too many people pushing and shoving, and you shake your head, regretting it instantly when the world becomes a senseless smear of colors. 

I can’t, you think frantically, reaching to grab something, anything just to stay a little longer. I-

Something hard collides into you, a force of solid weight sending you careening sideways. You expect the ground to rise up to meet you, but you just keep falling, and falling, and falling. Nothing but air whizzing by.

And it’s…nice. This weightlessness. This nothingness.

Peace finds you again, eyes slipping shut. 

You don’t even feel it when you hit the water. 

[enbysorcerer]

Day 6: Reach

Word Count: 2,030

TWs: None? Feel free to mesasge me if I'm wrong.

“You can’t keep going like this,” Masaru comments as he watches his best friend try to navigate the room. While this sounded like a perfectly normal event any able-bodied person should be able to do, Kiyoshi was not a normal able-bodied person. Kiyoshi had lost part of his leg just a few short months ago and hadn’t yet gotten used to the prosthesis…nor did he have any other tool to assist him given that his crutches were still leaning against the wall where Masaru left them when he went to work that morning.

“Like what?” Kiyoshi feigns innocence despite the way his remaining leg visibly shakes from the strain of holding him up on its own for so long.

“Like this,” Masaru replies, glancing pointedly at the trembling appendage. “You’re barely able to walk even with crutches, so how could you possibly expect to-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Kiyoshi’s leg gives out. Kiyoshi reaches for the countertop, but he can’t get a good enough grip and goes crashing to the ground with a pained hiss.” “Shit!”

Masaru wants to rush forward and help–especially with how the sudden tenseness of Kiyoshi’s body implies the fall hurts more than he’s letting on–but he tries to resist. He briefly considers suggesting pain medicine, but Kiyoshi had been raised by addicts (one to alcohol and the other to pills) and he refused to use pain medication unless he had no other choice. As bad as things may look now, Masaru doubted it was bad enough for Kiyoshi to voluntarily take anything.

“This is exactly what I mean,” he says carefully, trying to gauge the other’s reaction. “You need to rest. Dr. Santori said you should still be taking it easy and relying on the crutches to get around. You’re not doing either.”

Kiyoshi glares at him. It hurts to see that look aimed at him, especially with how rarely Kiyoshi had gotten mad at him Before, but he knew Kiyoshi wasn’t taking this one leg situation as well as he could be. He was angry, and as much as Masaru wanted to, he couldn’t entirely blame Kiyoshi for it. This whole situation sucked, and it was made even more unfair by the fact that Kiyoshi’s childhood had been miserable for similar reasons.

While Masaru wouldn’t claim to know the full story (though he’s pretty sure he did), he knew Kiyoshi’s father had been a soldier, and while out scouting or something, his squad had taken fire and ultimately been led into a minefield, a fact they hadn’t been aware of until Kiyoshi’s father had the unfortunate experience of stepping on a mine that ultimately cost him both his legs.

From there, he was honorably discharged from the military, given a shiny medal of honor for bravery, and essentially abandoned to his own devices. He ultimately ended up getting addicted to pain pills, his wife drank to handle her stress, and Kiyoshi was forced to grow up far too soon to make sure neither of his parents died of intoxication.

Fast forward a decade or so and Kiyoshi decided to join the military himself to feel closer to the parent who was occasionally sober enough to remember his existence only to lose his father to illness shortly before he officially enlisted. A few years later, an explosion would have Kiyoshi’s leg trapped under a pile of rubble after the building his squad was in got bombed. Unfortunately, despite the efforts of many specialists (both magical and mundane), Kiyoshi’s leg was deemed unsalvageable and removed.

Over their many years of friendship, Masaru’s family had more or less adopted Kiyoshi after discovering he was living mostly alone with an abusive mother, so naturally, when they’d gotten the news, they’d all wanted to help, but Kiyoshi refused to let any of them (aside from Masaru that is) close enough to do so. In fact, he’d avoided all forms of communication from his family and friends, so it had been up to Masaru to keep everyone in the loop.

Originally Masaru had thought it was just Kiyoshi needing time to adjust, but it had been months, and he still refused to contact anyone. It broke Masaru’s heart to watch, especially once some of those friends of Kiyoshi’s stopped asking. He knew Kiyoshi’s lack of interest was a result of depression or PTSD (or both, given his circumstances), but he’s not sure what he could do aside from simply being here and refusing to leave no matter how much Kiyoshi tried to push him away.

Still, he could see when enough was enough.

“I’m fine,” Kiyoshi insists, reaching for the countertop again to pull himself upright. With the angle and the narrowness of the space, he barely manages to lift himself off the ground before crashing down again. He winces, tightly pressing his lips together as his wounded remains of a leg once again hit the hard ground.

If Masaru thought not rushing over to help the first time was hard, it’s nothing compared to now. He hates seeing Kiyoshi like this, but perhaps if he’s forced to confront his new limitations without Masaru jumping to help, it’ll help him realize he’s being an idiot about this whole situation. He wants to ask if Kiyoshi is okay again, but he resists and asks something else instead. “Does this really seem okay to you?”

Kiyoshi glares further. Masaru (barely) resists the urge to wince. “Give me a damn second.” He shifts position to get a firmer grip on the counter to pull himself up again. Before, he would’ve easily been able to lift himself from that position, but now he only gets about halfway before crashing to the ground once more.

There’s a brief flicker of frustration and anger before Kiyoshi schools his features into something more determined. The third attempt is no better than the second, but this time, Masaru is forced to intervene when Kiyoshi makes an audible noise of pain.

“Enough,” he says, firmly but gently, as he steps into Kiyoshi’s space to prevent him from making a fourth attempt. “Enough. Please. Just ask me to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Kiyoshi insists further.

It pains Masaru to hear him like that, but he forces himself not to react. “Yes, you do.” Kiyoshi flinches in what would be an unnoticeable movement if Masaru didn’t know him as well as he did. “I know you don’t want to–don’t like to–but this is different. You can’t… this isn’t a situation you can handle alone.” He understands that asking for help was always hard for Kiyoshi after growing up the way he had, but Kiyoshi needed to understand this was different. Not just because his new disability left him no choice, but because Masaru would do anything and everything Kiyoshi asked. All he needed to do was say the words.

“Yes, I can. I just need-”

“I’m not leaving you,”Masaru says, finally getting straight to the heart of the matter. He would’ve thought that obvious–he’d practically worshiped the ground Kiyoshi walked on when they were children, and that hero worship had eventually turned to something stronger as they aged; he just refused to put a name to it for fear of losing the best and dearest friend he had–but the way Kiyoshi’s strong facade cracks for just the briefest moment says it’s evidently something Kiyoshi needed to hear.

“Everyone leaves eventually,” Kiyoshi mutters, carefully not looking at Masaru.

Masaru kneels down so they’re at eye level and cups Kiyoshi’s cheek. “Not me,” he says firmly. His tone has Kiyoshi hesitantly looking at him. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

Kiyoshi seems uncertain, though he tries to hide it by looking away. “Why?”

Because I love you, is what Masaru would desperately like to say, but he refrains. “Because I’m not like your mother. I’m not going to leave just because things get hard. I’m going to be right here, and I’m going to stay right here no matter how hard you try to push me away.”

Kiyoshi’s eyes take on a suspiciously glassy, vulnerable sheen. “B-but why?”

“Because,” Masaru cups Kiyoshi’s cheek, running his thumb across the soft flesh to wipe away the tears. He hopes the overwhelming love and devotion he feels toward this man are visible right now, “you are and have been the most important person in my life since the day we met. You’ve given me strength, and made me feel loved and appreciated even when no one else could. I-honestly I don’t know if I could’ve made it this far without you in my life.” He smiles gently, his own eyes starting to feel damp. “Kiyoshi Nakamura, I have loved you since the day we met, and there’s no one–no one–I’d rather be with right now than you.”

Kiyoshi gapes at him, tears coming faster at what was just said. His mouth opens and closes repeatedly, unsure what to say. It comes to Masaru’s attention that he’d just confessed to the love of his life and that love wasn’t saying anything.

He pulls back self-consciously, lowering his eyes and hand to the ground. “I, uh, s-sor-” the apology he’d been able to make dies on his lips as they’re covered with another pair.

He instinctively reaches up, cupping the back of Kiyoshi’s neck to pull him closer. Kiyoshi’s tongue trails along his bottom lip, and he eagerly allows it entry. All the dreams he’d has about this very scenario since puberty are absolutely nothing compared to the real thing, and despite not having a clue what he’s doing–he’d never bothered to date anyone else once he realized his heart already belonged to his best friend–he seemed to have been doing something right given the lack of complaints.

When the need to breathe gets overpowering, he pulls back, resting his forehead against Kiyoshi’s. Kiyoshi’s gaze makes him feel oddly vulnerable, but he refuses to look away. Not yet. Not until he knows what just happened.

“I-I love you too,” Kiyoshi admits softly, seemingly afraid of the words he was speaking. As if just admitting this terrified him beyond belief. Masaru’s glad he’s not the only one feeling frightened of ruining their friendship.

Masaru beams, unable to stop himself, and is rewarded with a soft laugh. It’s the first genuine laugh he’s heard from Kiyoshi in months, and his heart soars at the sound. He has the urge to kiss Kiyoshi again and doesn’t bother resisting.

When he pulls back the second time, Kiyoshi is smiling, actually smiling, and Masaru’s certain he’s never been this happy before. “God, I’ve missed that smile,” he teases.

Kiyoshi ducks his head and blushes almost unnoticeably. He could probably count on one hand all the times he’d seen Kiyoshi blush over the course of their friendship, and it delighted him to be the cause of it.

Was this what being on cloud nine felt like? If so, he never wanted to leave it.

“You know, um,” Kiyoshi chuckles, “as happy as I am right now, this, uh, would probably be even nicer if we weren’t on the floor?”

Masaru laughs as he’s abruptly reminded of their position. “Oh. Right. Good point.” He climbs to his feet, struggling not to laugh again at the barely hidden pout sent his way, and offers a hand to Kiyoshi. He carefully pulls Kiyoshi up, not wanting to aggravate his injured leg more than necessary, and pulls the arm over his shoulder. His free arm wraps around Kiyoshi’s waist for support. “Better?”

Kiyoshi gives him an unimpressed stare. “I just meant for you to help me up. Not-” Masaru arches an eyebrow. Kiyoshi huffs. “Alright, alright. Do as you wish.”

Masaru smiles, even as Kiyoshi rolls his eyes. “Thank you.” He gets them both over to the couch before detangling them enough to sit down. Part of him wants to reach for Kiyoshi’s hand, but he’s not sure where the boundary is. Not anymore. And that’s the most exciting part of all this.

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch, crossing his legs as he turns to face Kiyoshi. “So… we should probably talk.”

[tesnuzzik]

Hellow! I subscribed to you a long time ago. Back in the days when you published the Dragomatsu comic. I still adore this AU of yours. As far as I understand, you are no longer planning to work on this project. Could you briefly tell us what events were going to happen next in this comic?

Hi! Thank you for still following me even though I didn't update anymore <3 It's true, I'm not going to continue working on the comic. I'm currently working on an original comic (close to finishing the first page), doing two at the same time would be impossible;; (and the Dragonmatsu comic would have been much to big to ever finish anyway). I don't mind telling what I was planning with it though! (It's been a while and I didn't write everything down, but I'll do my best to try and remember). I'll try to keep it as short as possible;; xD --- From the final page I posted: Jyushimatsu would get taken away by the knights at the announcement, and Osomatsu rushes to try and bail him out (this is when he'd meet (the old version of) my oc Fenric for the first time). Jyushimatsu ends up getting away with a warning, mostly because the king wants to keep peace with the dragons. After this chapter, I had a whole story planned out where Jyushimatsu would get very ill, but no doctor would be willing to help except Dekapan (who's not fully recognized as a doctor with his weird magic potions). It turns out Jyushimatsu was poisoned by an angry villager, making the Matsus more aware that some humans *really* don't want them there (Oso starts turning really protective because of this as well). At some point, the king gets sick and passes away, and the prince takes over. He hates dragons due to trauma (if you look at the panel where he's upset in chapter 3, you can see that he misses a finger). Vitharr (the big red haired oc dude) decides to use that to his advantage and makes a plan where he will frame the Matsus for setting off a fire during the coronation festivities, turning most of the village against them and having the new king abolish the laws protecting (half)dragons. Vitharr ends up getting a position among the knights (And general Muno leaves, as she doesn't agree with what is happening), but he leaves his old crew behind who decide to try and capture the Matsus before he could (and get the reward). They end up causing the Matsu's house to burn down, but the Matsus escape and decide to flee the village.

This would be the end of the "first part" of the story, after this the Matsus would wander a dangerous forest while being hunted down by Vitharr (who was forced to team up with Fenric, a mage with an obsession with dragon magic). They would discover much more about their powers, where they came from, etc. Osomatsu grew to distrust humans, Karamatsu would have a bunch of old trauma to work through, Choromatsu and Todomatsu would have a lot of issues adjusting to the new situation (in their own ways), and Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu's powers would end up clashing and causing issues in their relationship. I didn't write most of the latter stuff down so I don't remember all of it ;w; I think I had plans for the Matsus to all meet a full dragon of their own element at some point? Like the test comic I made with Karamatsu and the dragon in the big whirlpool... If you want to know about more specific stuff, just let me know! It's fun to go back to an old project like that sometimes, haha!

(edit!) Here are two unfinished pages for chapter 3

[esta-elavaris]

Dieu Et Mon Droit [4,106 words]

A more recent original short horror story! This one is from 2021 - the premise being "what if a zombie apocalypse happened in the Tudor period??"

“Dieu Et Mon Droit” = “God and My Right”, adopted as the royal motto of England by Henry V. The zombie apocalypse thing should be a hint that I’m not making any great claims of historical accuracy. Damnit Jim, I’m a writer, not a historian. Enjoy, don’t examine it too seriously. 

1533

The year was 1533, and King Henry VIII had just crowned his former mistress as Queen of England. It was no small scandal and, had the times been normal, the people would have been abuzz with outrage and fury. But as it was, they were more concerned with the dead that now roamed the earth. 

In the very beginning, before they’d had a chance to take a real measure of the stories that drifted from the areas fast falling to this new horror, they’d treated it like any other plague that was wont to befall them. Even if there were none still living who remembered the last outbreak of the black death, the sweating sickness was still fresh in the minds of most, and they readied themselves for another wave of something similar. They took their tonics, they prayed, and they gave a wide berth to anybody who showed even the slightest signs of illness. It would pass.

But it did not pass, and the tales became more widespread, and easier to believe. So they did what any godly person living would do in times of chaos - tried to find order in it - reason. Cause. And then the coronation seemed all the more relevant. To some, at least - the taverns packed with no shortage of voices seeking to weigh in and make sense of the senseless. 

“Joseph’s boy works in the palace kitchens - there’s talk there. He said the last word from Rome blamed the Boleyn woman for this. It’s God showing his displeasure.”

“And then Rome fell. So how did they displease God?” 

“I’m just sayin’ what I’ve heard, is all.”

“And I’m just sayin’ what you’ve heard is twaddle.” 

“The King will leave the city soon, mark my words. He’ll go to some fortress, somewhere less populated,” a third added.

“Who’s to say he hasn’t already? Cloaked and hooded - disguised, so nobody might know he has forsaken us, as he has the north.”

“He’d’ve taken the Boleyn woman with him. She’s still there, the future King is still in her belly, so King Henry will be, too. Staying perfectly visible, so as not to raise a panic. They know full well that if they leave, the city will succumb to panic faster than they do to this sickness...and then outrage towards him, when it passes.”

“Should it pass.” 

“...Should it pass.” 

“He’s King by divine right. Who gives half a shit about outrage when they have God on their side? He’ll run, and he’ll say it’s his duty to run. That God told him to. Just like he told him to forsake poor Queen Katherine.” 

“The King will not risk the roads, fool. Not even with all of his men. The Duke of Norfolk was overcome on them only this week past. Now he’s out there somewhere, dining on peasants.”

“Some things never change, eh?”

The laughter this comment garnered was sparse, and too troubled to be genuine. 

“Any of their lot further north than Cambridge has been told not to bother. More likely to fall on the roads than reach the safety of the palace. If the inflicted don’t get ‘em, the bandits will. Won’t be long before they’re driven from the roads entirely, they’ll be doing what they can to stock up before then. Those who do reach the gates are checked top to tail before they’re let near anybody other than a guard.” 

“I bet that’s a real hardship when the ladies of the court come calling.”

The chuckles this garnered were a bit more lively. Until another voice cut through them to speak.

“They killed one. Last week. Some jumped up, paranoid guard. Saw a scrape the lady took falling from her horse - decided it was best not to risk it.”

“...Did they punish him?”

“No. ‘Course not. They say the King commended him for his vigilance.” 

Any cheer that they’d managed to muster in the face of what they knew was well on the way, soon fizzled out. The laughter died.

“There’ll be more hoping to be commended in the same way. Get into the King’s good books for when it really comes down to it. It won’t get any better.”

“They’ve closed all of the roads leading in from the north. Maybe it’ll be contained,” the one who said this was younger, barely a boy of twelve.

Few had the heart to disabuse him of his hope. Except for the old man in the corner.

“They can close all the roads they like, they won’t be able to stop everybody. Not once this really takes root. Make no mistake, it’ll creep down from the north, and then it’ll hit London...and once it does, we’re in trouble.”

1534

Hampton Court Palace was not built to be a structure that could withstand a siege. The only truly useful feature was the moat, and even that failed to extend beyond the frontmost section of the palace. There were too many doors, too many windows, too many weak spots. It had been a minor concern before things started to turn southward, but it became a real problem once the death turned in that direction, too. They could board up the exterior windows and gates, place guards at every weak spot, but they could not turn a palace meant for fun and folly into a fortress built for long-term survival. Not truly. 

The peace of mind once offered by the fact that even the most raving of lunatics would be put off by the punishments in store for those threatening the safety of the king held no comfort now. These days, anybody seeking to enter the palace was faced with a choice - the tenuous chance of refuge, tempered only by the chance of being caught, weighed against the near certainty of being eaten alive if they remained outside of the walls. The nobles cooped up inside could feign horror and disgust towards those who decided they liked the odds of that particular gamble, and that outrage was the source of many a conversation to be sure, but in the safe confines of their own minds, even they knew the truth. The desperation tinged logic that would spur the desire to test any potential weaknesses of the palace’s exterior. To anybody on the outside, it was easy to imagine the inside was a paradise. 

What paradise consisted of had become a fairly short list, anyway. Food, safety, seeing the sun rise another day. And so new measures were brought in. Countless times each day, one of the King’s men would announce loudly, for all to hear, that sneaking into the palace - being in the palace without permission - was now treason. Helping somebody sneak into the palace was now treason. Being aware that somebody had snuck in and failing to report it, was now treason. And treason meant being hanged, drawn, and quartered. However thin their resources were now stretched, they would always find the ones required to dole out such punishment. After all, rope and a sharp blade were hardly in short supply. Not in the way that food, safety, and the guarantee of seeing the sun rise another day were. 

The fact that they’d managed to go this long without any major incidents, and (miraculously) no infections did nothing to bolster the King’s mood as it did for the people of his court. 

“The King grows restless, and the Queen despairs for it. Had she given birth to a son, things may have been different, but as it is…” Lady Alice paused as somebody passed just too closely, and only continued once they were out of earshot “She fears there may be some who align themselves with Rome’s way of thinking. That God sent this to show his disapproval for her. The lack of an heir is just driving the point home.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Edith shook her head “Princess Elizabeth is strong, and healthy, and boisterous, and, and-”

“And a girl.”

“A girl who is proof that she can have healthy children. A boy will follow. One who will inspire our King to look to the future, to lead us out of this mess.” 

Lady Alice watched her friend for a good few moments. Lady Edith was older than her by a decade at least - shouldn’t that have meant that she’d be less idealistic? Able to discern hope from folly when it came across her path? If her years alone didn’t do so, surely the fact that her husband had not made it to the palace, and had not been heard of since, would have. Or maybe that was why she clung to hope. To reason, to order. She was a good, Christian woman with not so much as a smudge against her name. Such a thing was rare in this court. It stood to reason that she thought she was due a good turn because of that. But reason had no place anywhere in these times. 

Alice sighed and twisted her hands in her dirty skirts. Most women only had two dresses now - one for the cold, one for the warm. The days of the latest fashions and changing for banquets, or indeed, banquets at all. Not only because of the situation with the food, but because of the noise. It drew the dead. It could not be risked. So did light, or any signs of life it seemed. Most discarded dresses had been put to use as window coverings at night, leaving the palace more suited to housing ghosts than people. 

“One of the Queen’s ladies traded her jewels for an apple yesterday,” she missed the day when gossip was a bit less grim. 

“The Queen’s jewels?” Lady Edith frowned.

They said the Queen’s quarters were like a tomb, nowadays. Silent and solemn.

“No, of course not, she’d be thrown from the palace. Her own jewels - including a necklace that had been in her family since the days of King Henry II.”

“Fool.”

“They’re worth nothing now.”

“Not her, whoever she traded with. What are they going to do, eat the diamonds?”

“Maybe they’ll trade them, when the King leads us out of this mess,” she said the words drily, and they were the most she dared say, lest anybody overhear them and name it slander. 

Lady Edith’s lips set into a thin line. 

“Since we’re no longer permitted into the gardens, they’ve turned them into crop fields,” because farming was so much quieter than walking “Things will be better after the first harvest. We’ll be back to two meals every day. Perhaps even three, some of the time.”

Leaning against the wall behind her, Alice bit down on the inside of her cheek. How many meals was the King skipping? It was a dangerous thing to think, and a perilous thing to voice, so she would not. She already knew the answer, anyway. And she knew the reasoning behind it that would be presented if anybody posed the question and kept their head long enough to hear the answer. The King was the one they must look to for hope. To lead them out of this. For that, he needed his strength. And if Queen Anne was to produce a little Prince, she would need to stay healthy too. There was logic behind it, logic she might even understand on the good days. Good days just happened to be in short supply. 

However they tried to entertain or distract themselves, however much they prayed, however much strength they poured into keeping their spirits up, it was always a trial. The days were growing hotter, and with noise being the risk that it was, the windows remained shut. Soon, with all of the bodies around them, every room became a stuffy, humid sort of hell that seemed to have the sole aim of driving them mad. It was like one long never-ending confinement, with no babe to look forward to at the end of it - the make it all worth it. There was a sick sort of humour to be found in the fact that in the winter they’d huddled around the fires and pined for these days. 

Taking a deep, steeling breath in (and finding only air that felt like it had already been used many times over), Lady Alice struggled against the urge to start driving her head into the wall. If only because then the gossip would cease to be about the controversial diamond trade, and about her waning sanity. Then they would petition for her to be the next one fed to the dead clamouring at the gates. 

One of the King’s guards thudded his staff dully against the floor, and spoke in a loud voice that even he seemed to be weary of.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, you are reminded that unauthorised entry into the palace gates is now high treason. Aiding another in treason, or indeed turning a blind eye to treason, is now punishable…”

The urge to drive her head into the stone behind her became all the more tempting.

1535

The Queen’s chambers were silent, save only for the crackle of the fire and the soft padding of her slippers as she paced back and forth over and over. Her ladies had long since stopped observing this habit of hers, for fear of getting dizzy. Round and round her chambers she would pace, occasionally muttering to herself, sometimes going so far as to scoff or sigh angrily in response to said mutterings, as if they hadn’t come from her own lips. Even the guard in the corner, ever-present given the state of the world outside, looked like he’d rather be anywhere but, and this posting was an easy one. It was better than defending the weak spots against the dead and the desperate. 

In the beginning, her efforts to keep everybody distracted had been valiant - although some might say deluded. It was the duty of the Queen, she’d explained loftily many a time to such people while rubbing her rounded belly, to keep the people distracted in trying times - the King looked after the people as a collective, and the Queen cared for their spirits. There had been parlour games, singing and dancing, recreations of dramatic scenes from the newest plays, anything to keep their minds off of the many loved ones too far away from London to reach refuge in time. If little changed inside the walls, they could all pretend that nothing had changed outside of them, either. But such a charade could only continue for so long. By the time the Princess Elizabeth was christened in the palace’s chapel, the games were already a thing of the past. Now they were barely even a memory. 

At the time they’d felt painful, even as they’d taken part in them. The very thing they were supposed to be forgetting at the very forefront of their minds as they made their silly costumes and danced their ridiculous dances. But the only thing worse than distraction, it seemed, was no distraction. And worse even still than the lack of any distraction, was the muttering.

The Lady Alice was the newest of the Queen’s ladies, replacing Lady Joan who had come down with a fever a week prior, and had not been seen since. Nobody asked what had become of her, but nobody needed to. The lack of any bite marks rarely served as a good defense anymore. Whatever measures were taken - banishment or blade - the end result was the same, anyway. Best not to dwell on it. All they could do was move on, and resolutely hide any symptoms of even the mildest of maladies. Even the Queen, when morning sickness struck, was prone to bouts of “casually” announcing to anybody that would hear that it was perfectly natural, in her condition, and that it was nothing sinister. But she was the one person in the room who needn’t make such assurances...so long as she remained with child, and therefore invaluable. 

“The failure of the crops...the death of Katherine’s bastard...they blame me, always me - only me,” the Queen shook her head, spinning on her heel and beginning her pacing anew in the opposite direction “How could any woman be expected to produce a prince under such conditions? Such vitriolic rumour? How?”

Nobody in the room dared meet her eye, lest they be pressed upon to supply an answer. Unfair as it may have been, the resentment was growing. Not just from the skeleton court that remained towards the Queen, but from everybody towards anybody. High pressure and close quarters did not breed love and contentment. Nor did lack of food. That particular problem was one all but the King and Queen had to contend with. 

The King’s rations never changed, as he needed his strength to lead the people as God intended, and the Queen’s did not lessen either, for she needed her own strength for the babe in her belly. But with each one she lost, that argument grew weaker and weaker. Soon there were plenty who wondered why everybody must suffer hunger pangs for the sake of so many children that never saw the light of day. Nobody voiced it, but everybody thought it. And the Queen knew it. So when she did eat, she ate in private, so that others mightn’t see her portions and be tempted to compare them to their own. But it was becoming more and more common for her appetite to forsake her entirely, and for whatever she was given to go to her ladies. As fate would have it, she was then resented for that, too - for being unable to eat for the sake of the future heir. 

Of course, had her previous pregnancies not ended in such tragedy, she would’ve then been blamed for the extra mouths to feed. There was no winning these days. For anybody. It took a prolonged moment of silence for those in the room to notice that the Queen had fallen silent, looking carefully around the room with a scrutinous gaze. 

“Where’s Jane?” 

If their gazes had all been fixed resolutely to their own laps before, now they were all but nailed there.

“Where is Jane Seymour?” The Queen demanded again.

They all knew the answer just as much as they knew Queen Anne knew it, too. And then they realised that perhaps there was one victor to be found in all of this, after all. 

1536

The gardens, turned crop fields, turned barren dirt patches, now held a structure for the first time in over a year. A scaffold. The scaffold was a tiny one, raised little more than two feet from the on which it was built. The world had fallen far, but not far enough for Queens to be executed in the dirt. Before nightfall, it would be dismantled again, the wood too valuable for the fires they would no doubt need come winter. If they were lucky, or perhaps unlucky, enough to see winter. Of course, they’d need to wait until the blood that soaked it ran dry. 

For now, the servants that remained were more concerned with the orders of the King - both in terms of seeing out those orders, and suppressing their horror at them. There wasn’t a soul still living in the palace who wasn’t keenly aware of the guard’s progress through the halls, the large ornate wooden box held as far away from his person as possible in outstretched hands. Judging by the reactions he garnered, he wasn’t the only one who was acutely aware of what the box held. Any and every soul he passed on his way to the King’s private chambers did a double take, gasped, and threw themselves back against the walls in an effort to get as far away from the guard’s cargo as possible, most crossing themselves and murmuring prayers as they did so.

The guard did his best to ignore it. What he held required his utmost attention, lest he drop it and see what a real horrified reaction consisted of. His journey was a balancing act - moving carefully enough that he wouldn’t drop his cargo, but not so slowly as to allow blood to start seeping out of the box. His superiors had assured him such a thing would not happen, but he didn’t want to risk it all the same. One of the King’s men stood outside the door waiting for him, and made an admirable effort not to even look at what he held as he rounded the corner. Instead he simply opened the door and led the way inside.

No silence fell over the King’s rooms the way it had over the hallways as he’d walked through them, but that was mainly because they were already silent before the door had even opened. The guard was almost surprised to see the King was not alone, so quiet were the rooms. The Lady Jane Seymour, soon to be Queen Jane, sat by one side, pale and drawn, and the Duke of Suffolk sat at the other, more grim even than the king himself nowadays. 

“It’s done?” 

“The executioner was not practised, your majesty, but it was done quickly and without incident,” any man able to swing an axe or sword had been moved to their defenses long ago “The Queen-”

The King’s eyes flashed. Lady Jane’s eyes flitted to the box, and then quickly back to her lap. 

“That is, er, Lady Anne - died well.”

“I hear there was some commotion in the rooms she was being held in this morning,” the King ignored the previous statement.

“One of her ladies, Lady Alice...she’d been bitten. We can’t say when, but sometime before she was taken to Lady Anne to keep her company in her final hours. Reports are now emerging of her habit of sneaking out to get fresh air. She disguised her symptoms as nerves and grief. We didn’t know until the guards arrived to take Lady Anne to the block, and found her fending off the, er...former Lady Alice.”

“But she survived?”

“Until we executed her, your Majesty.” 

“And the Lady Alice?”

“Dealt with.” 

“Find all those who knew of these secret walks, and interrogate them on why they saw fit to say nothing until now.”

After giving the order, the King approached the guard holding the box. At his gesture, a space was cleared at the large table in the centre of the room, and the box was laid atop it. Once he was unburdened of it, the guard took several steps back as though fearful of being asked to hold it once again. Nobody in the room paid him any mind. 

The King stood before the box, fingertips pausing at the latch. The Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon, stood and moved to join him, morbid curiosity written plain across the furrow in his brow. Such curiosity, though, was nowhere to be found in the Lady Jane, who pressed her lips together and looked towards one of the covered windows as though it still afforded some sort of view. Her knuckles were white where her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap, a bible wedged between them.

Hesitation leaving him, or perhaps just keenly aware that he’d been caught hesitating to begin with, the King unlatched the box and lifted its lid in one swift motion, an unbothered, haughty frown forcing its way onto his features. The mask fell for but a moment once the box was opened, his face paling and his eyes widening for a moment. For all of the gore and the horror that most had seen over the last three years, the King had probably seen the least. While none who attended the beheading even flinched at the stroke of the sword, it was still a big ask to expect the King to look upon the severed head of his former wife with not even a flinch. 

Brandon, whose insistant presence at the defences was legendary among the men,  sighed tiredly at the sight, and then gave a slight nod as though in approval that the matter was done. Unlike the King, his face did not pale. Jane closed her eyes and muttered a prayer.

“She was fair,” Brandon commented, when nobody else in the room spoke.

The King, who was shaken from his shock at the words, took another step forward and traced a few fingertips across the face of the former Queen as though checking it for dust.

“Jane is fairer,” the King replied.

And then the head opened its eyes, and sank its teeth into his hand. 

[ml-nolan]

how did you first get into writing?

Not to be all "I've been writing since I can remember" about it, but I kind of have been. Did the whole thing where I demanded my mom type up little stories I dictated to her and stuff. I was an only child, so I played by myself most of the time, and it's hard to do that if you can't make yourself part of stories and construct imaginary worlds.

The difference between my "I was always writing" story and some other people's was, I didn't give myself a ton of intellectual or creative freedom, for a variety of reasons I won't get into here. Lots and lots of things went unfinished. I was great at nonfiction and essays and writing stories and poetry that adults liked/approved of, so I won a lot of prizes and got into summer programs and stuff, but I didn't actually have fun with fiction until very recently.

When I finally started writing fiction again in my 20s after more "life experience" (i.e., doing myself a lot of intentional and unintentional harm), I hated it and felt awful about everything I wrote. I decided to let myself quit. I had been forcing the identity of "writer" on myself since I was a kid, so I just allowed myself to say, "I'm not a writer anymore." It was actually pretty fucking freeing and a good reset.

Since I knew I was still good at organizing thoughts, digital publishing mechanics, and writing copy, I got into book publishing. I figured everyone else's stories were better than mine anyway, so I'd just focus on helping them. The longer I helped others, though, and worked on managing my mental illnesses, the more I thought that I could probably do it for myself again at some point.

I could never finish any piece of fiction longer than a very short story until my first Magnus Archives long fic, which I wrote at 34 years old. Shockingly (sarcasm), it was not long after I finally came out as pan and nonbinary. Turns out when you hold giant pieces of yourself back from your art, it really shows. I was actually a writer, and I did have stories worth telling. I just needed to be honest with myself about who I was and not police my thoughts so much. I recommend it.

Probably a little longer than the question warranted, but thanks for asking!

[skzhocomments]

The Boundless Sphere of Fate - Lee Taemin - Chapter 1 - The Cycle of Death

General masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad + AO3

Prologue | Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - The Cycle of Death

word count: 1.5k words

~Third person~

~10 years in the past~

“Hey, hey, hey! Please don’t go! Pleeeaaaseeee! I’m bored as fuckkkk.”

Blair continued walking, picking up the pace, trying to ignore the loud voice that was trying to disturb her daily walk back home.

“I know you can hear me! And see me! Look, I can make a funny face!” The woman spoke loudly, sticking out her tongue and grabbing her ears, making them appear larger, trying her hardest to gain the young girl’s attention. However, Blair continued walking unbothered, well aware of her three classmates walking behind her.

“I can also be scary. Want me to scare you?” The woman fidgeted around her, grabbing the red-stained hem of her worn-out white dress and twirling her body, making all sorts of faces and trying to jump scare the little girl.

Blair wondered why she chose to keep those clothes on her. She knew that beings like that woman were somehow able to choose if they want to end up wearing the same outfit they did when they…

“You know that Karma is a real thing, right?! Watch yourself be ignored when you finally die, as you ignore me now! I wish you an eternity of boredom!”

Maybe she was brewing a too large resentment for whoever ended her life and kept the blood-stained garments as a reminder. This was usually the case.

“Do you know how boring it is to be stuck here and have no one to talk to for weeks on end?! Of course you don’t!” The woman screamed again, frustration taking over her features.

When you die, your soul lingers on the Earth for a while. For 49 days, to be exact.

49 long days where you are given the chance to get closure, before departing for the next adventure.

But things can change if you pass away unexpectedly. It could be something trivial, a car crash, a natural disaster, or something more tragic, a murder.

If it makes you feel wronged in any way, if it makes you think your time’s been cut short, if it makes you resent someone or something with all your being, the journey that was supposed to last 49 days may no longer end, not until you solve out that deep hatred within.

Blair knew it all too well. She’s seen it time and time again, ever since she could remember.

People that decided to stay weren’t necessarily bad.

Actually, decided is a big word. They don’t decide anything. If the unresolved ill will towards the reason for their death keeps them on Earth, they are stuck in limbo; they will stay in the same place, forever, or at least until they can get the revenge they so dearly seek.

It’s easier said than done, though.

Normally, Blair would try to help. She did help a few ghosts in the past and saw the cycle of Death end with their departure from Earth, and it was a beautiful sight, how at peace they looked when they crossed over.

But helping is not easy, and not everyone wants to be helped.

Judging by the woman’s appearance, she was probably run over by someone. It was maybe a hit and run. Blair’s seen this scenario before. It was a quite common cause of death.

Should she try and help…? What could a 14-year-old girl do to solve people’s resentments? She was powerless. The only thing she had over the ghosts roaming on the street was an alive body and the ability to talk to others and be heard by them.

Other than that, however, Blair had nothing.

It would be better to stay away.

Her classmates were behind her anyway, and they already thought she’s a freak.

Let’s not give them more reasons to bully me. She thought, happy that the long summer holiday seemed to make her classmates almost forget about how weird she was.

She wondered when the woman died. It must’ve been during the holiday, otherwise she would’ve seen her in this place before.

“I just want to talk to someone.” The ghost spoke again, sadness lacing her tone.

Blair was always baffled that ghosts actually had feelings just as much as she did. It shouldn’t have been surprising, though. After all, spirits used to be humans, and all your feelings are stored in your soul, not in your body.

“I’m sorry. I can’t talk to you now.” She whispered and prayed to God those girls behind her didn’t hear her.

“Why not?!” The ghost whined and stomped her feet. “At least- at least don’t cross the street. I can’t follow you there.”

So it happened on this street.

That was the thing about ghosts. If they are stuck in a place, they are literally stuck. Apart from the first 49 days after passing away, they can’t roam anywhere. They are tied to the place they died and its close proximity.

“Don’t go! Please! Help me!” The ghost pleaded with Blair desperately, just as she put one leg on the crosswalk. She tried to grab her arms, but it was futile. Even if Blair saw and heard ghosts, she couldn’t touch them, and they couldn’t touch her.

However, the woman’s desperate cries made her stop dead in her tracks and turn back to look at her.

“Will… will you stay?” The woman smiled sweetly.

“Oh look, it’s the Blair Witch Project!” One of the three classmates mocked.

“What’s up, witch, saw another ghost?” Another one laughed.

“What a schizophrenic wacko.” The last one exclaimed as the three of them brushed over Blair, bumping into her and pushing her back, making her trip and fall.

“Mean girls!” The woman spat out and bent down to try and help Blair, but of course, there was nothing she could do to assist the girl in standing up.

“See? That’s why I pretended not to see you.” Blair stood up and shook the dirt off her skirt. “They saw me talking to someone else 6 years ago and they haven’t stopped bugging me about it since. Calling me names and stuff.”

“I’m not in your head, I swear-”

“I know.” Blair sighed. “So, what happened to you?”

“I was crossing the street and a car driving over the speed limit hit me…”

“Sorry to hear.”

“The man didn’t even get caught! He ran away like a coward, left me bleeding on the road! Unless justice is served, I can’t… I can’t leave this fucking place!” She shouted in frustration.

“Okay… but how can I help you, though?”

“His- his plate number. It was “KD906ABSF. It was a dark green Toyota Camry. Please, I know you can help me.”

“Ok… let me write that down… when was the accident?”

~

“So let me get that straight, you’re saying you witnessed a hit and run on the 24th of June, more than 3 months ago, and you’re only reporting it now?!” The policeman scoffed, baffled.

“I- I was scared.” Blair cried as convincingly as she could, trying to ignore the roll of her mom’s eyes. She was sick and tired of Blair’s shenanigans, and with her baby daddy out of the picture, she was cursed to take care of her alone.

“Okay… let us run the plate number again… you said KD…”

“KD906ABSF, green Toyota Camry.” Blair interrupted the policeman, hoping she would solve this.

“We’ll look into it and if we find any evidence to support your claim, we will take the necessary steps further.” The policeman smiled and ushered Blair and her mom outside.

~

“Can’t you fucking stop doing this?!” Her mom shouted annoyed, forcefully grabbing Blair’s hand and dragging her towards the car.

“I’m sorry, mom…”

“You always say that, then you go and do it again. Can’t you just be normal for once?!” Her mom scoffed and let go of her hand, before sending a powerful blow on the back of Blair’s head.

“Ouch!” The girl cried in pain, but her mom didn’t even care that she hurt her daughter.

“Only 4 more years, and I don’t want to see you ever again.” She spoke coldly and entered the car. “You can find your own way home, right?” She closed the door and ignored her daughter’s existence.

“You won’t.” Blair whispered and watched her mom drive away. “You won’t see me ever again, mom. I promise.”

Blair watched as her mother drove away and tried to stop the tears from staining her cheeks.

It wasn’t the first time her mother hit her, but it never got any easier.

Like the girls at school, her mom didn’t want to understand that there was something more after death, that some people needed help to make amends before crossing over, that the sail is not always smooth.

Dejected, she started to walk the long way home, watching the sun set. Orange was beautiful, she thought. She loved how much the sun looked like a fireball during this hour.

Night fell when Blair reached the front door of her mother’s house, and she was not surprised to find the front door locked.

Of course her mother didn’t want her to come in after what she pulled at the police station.

Still, she tried the doorknob a couple of times, to no avail.

It was going to be another cold night of sleeping outside in the back garden.

---

Prologue | Chapter 2

[cheryyori]

NIGHTMARE EYES PT. 3

pairing(s): steven grant/fem!oc, platonic marc spector/fem!oc for now (platonic dane/fem!oc)

summary: Waking up after being chased by spirits was never easy, but she's got a date! And she's not gonna let anything get in the way of that!

warning(s): mental health illness, possible inaccurate depictions of DID (I tried my best to research tho in spare time, also based on events in the show), horror elements, gore/blood elements

CONTENT WARNING(S): paranormal psychometry, out of body experience, your tiny daily dose of paranormal ghost investigation, mentions of crime syndicates, murders, cult related themes, Steven in distress :(, some comforting and protective Sunny :)

author's note: finally getting into the plot of the show, kinda went overboard with this one so its pretty long. I'm not covering all of it bc we already know how it goes I'm mainly covering the part with Sunny involved and then going a bit after the series ends unless s2 is announced or if the boys are included in any other marvel projects

Also trying out a new format, mostly so the dialouge doesn't seem so clunked together like in the last two bc I write a lot to describe actions and dialouge. Lmk if this is better or you prefer the old one.

This is just the bare bones of the story not the official final draft.

Other than that enjoy this word vomit.

Open to writing drabbles/hc within this au if interested (spoilers free until certain parts are posted), feel free to send asks regarding this au or to be part of the taglist!

Red italicized is Izanami either speaking or in Sunny's head, italicized is speaking in Korean

taglist: @ahookedheroespureheart

《PREV | NEXT》

When Sunny woke up she felt her head throb.

What the fuck happened????

She blinked as she looked around to see herself in her flat. What the fuck???

She paused, trying her best to recall what happened.

She remembers walking back home to the bus stop, the spirits appearing, running away from them, and Steven.

Oh god, that right Steven had found her looking like shit and helped patched her up before she passed out from exhaustion.

She remembers him saying he needed to do something, what it was she doesn't know.

(Also why was he dress differently, not mention his accent....she'll make a note to ask when she sees him later)

She blinked as she got out from under the duvet and headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower and clean herself up.

After that she got dressed and opened the door, hoping that she would see Steven, but oddly she didn't.

Huh, weird.

Well he did say he was doing something, she's not sure on what the specifics was but she recalls how he talks to his mother often.

Sunny wonders if what he was doing involved her. Maybe he went to visit her.

She recalls him mentioning it once. She hopes that's the case.

She decides to text him just in case. She saw the text being delivered and would check later that day.

She sighs as she headed towards the bus, it seemed quiet without Steven there to converse with her or even his presence in general. When he wasn't talking to her, he would rest his eyes, taking a short nap on her shoulders before her stop.

Regardless it felt lonely. She recalled the time when he was gone for a a week, although at that time she was anxious to meet him again after the first kiss.

The day passed by slowly until her break arrived. She wondered if she should visit Steven at the mueseum when she felt her phone vibrate.

She saw a message from Steven, making her sigh in relief.

He texted her that he'll be out of town for a bit to help some relatives, so she was right sort of.

It also mentioned that he'll be back before their date and that he'll meet her there.

Okay, okay, that's good. At least she didn't have to worry about him unlike the last time.

And the mention of their upcoming date makes her swoon just a bit. Her cheeks were flushed as she squealed a bit.

God she felt like a stupid high school girl at the thought of their date.

Okay, her day just got a bit better, sure it'll be a bit lonely that she wouldn't be able to see or talk to Steven until their date but it was worth it.

And for once Izanami was quiet for the rest of the day, with only a few harmless ghosts popping out here and there. Even better.

FRIDAY NIGHT - DATE NIGHT 6:25PM

She had standing in front of the mirror for an hour, clothes thrown all over the place.

What the fuck??? She was sure she had more colors in her closet than beige, browns, and black.

Not to mention a lot of them were either loose tee, vests, sweaters, or cardigans. Did she not have any dresses to wear???

She groans as she sat at the edge of her bed only in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

Maybe Izanami was right...she really didn't have anything to wear for this date.

"I heard my name."

"Son of a---" Sunny jumps as she looked to see the goddess skimming through her closet. The goddess frowns as she picked up a few items before tossing it to the ground.

"Why are there so many browns in your wardrobe?" Her face scrunched in disgust before glancing back at Sunny.

"Don't you ever wear stuff like that again, you know I absolutely hate the color brown!" She huffed with a finger pointed at her and stomping her foot down.

"There's nothing wrong with brown, it's a nice neutral color," Sunny mutters, "And you're not even the one wearing them!"

"It's dull, you should wear more brighter and bolder colors if you want to stand out," Izanami replied.

"I don't want to stand out, neutral colors are nice," Sunny protests while Izanami scoffed and searched through her closet.

"Regardless, you have nothing appropriate for fine dining, one of these days we need to stop by mall."

"With your taste in brands, I wouldn't be able to afford it."

"It'll be on me, my dear. You know monetary items means nothing to me. I'm practically rich," Izanami replied.

"As kind as that sounds, it's also not my style."

Izanami rolls her eyes and sighs, "Fine, but considering you have a date in," she paused to glance up at the clock, "roughly an hour and a half, I'll lend you a dress from my own personal wardrobe..."

Sunny paused before relenting, she didn't really have of a choice at this point, "Fine," she mutters, "I have to be there at 8, so just hurry it up alright. And wipe that smug grin off your face."

"Excellent! I have the perfect dress in mind, now make haste, we still need to do you hair and makeup!" She said.

About 30 minutes later, Sunny was wearing a slim fitted white dress with long flowy skirt and a puffed long sleeves.

"Hm, yes as always my styles is impeccable, I'm sure your little boy toy will drop dead when he see you," Izanami nods.

"Don't call him that," She frowned, "I actually like him, so I would appreciate it if you don't call him that."

"I'm only stating the facts, my dear."

"Would it kill you to be nice for once?" Sunny asked, busy with doing her makeup as Izanami sat on her bed, glancing at herself in her phone.

"I don't know what you mean, my dear. I'm always nice," she replies.

"I mean really nice, not bitchy nice like you usually are," Sunny stated.

"You're tying my hands, but fine," Izanami sighs, "I'll try to be nice to your date."

"Also please don't try to scare him, he already seems nervous as it I don't want to add more stress because you want to poke fun at him!"

"Fine," she draws out, "I'll leave you two be, for now," and with that she disappeared.

Sunny sighs, "Always have to have the last word huh?" She then puts on some earring as the last finishing touches before noticing the pendant on her dress.

She had almost forgotten that she had picked it up. Damn she was so distracted with her date that she forgot to ask Izanami about it.

She sighed as she inspected it closer now and noticed some red splotches on it. She felt an unsettling feeling at the red.

As she inspected the pendant, her vision slowly blurred and a sense of dizziness followed after.

She winced and placed one hand on the dresser while she held her head as a suddenly ringing filled her ears.

What the fuck??? She blinked once, then twice. Then shut her eyes tight, hoping that the ringing would stop.

Her suddenly freezes and seized up as a sudden electrical jolt shot through her.

Once she opened her eyes, she expected things to be back to normal, only one problem. She wasn't in her room anymore.

Instead she was in some sort of lobby.

"Are you kidding me? Now of all time?!" She frowned as she glanced around to see how she would get out of this place.

Without any choice, she wandered around the lobby, hoping to get out of here quickly and back to reality.

The sounds of her footsteps echoed across the area, she noticed that the floor was made of...what the fuck??? It that pure marble???

She doesn't dwell on the thought before she nears what might be a receptionist desk and see a set of keys.

For emergencies only, the label says. Well she guesses this was an emergency and swipes it from the desk.

Sunny glanced around and saw a label that says emergency stairs, maybe that was what the key was for.

She moves close and inserts the key into the lock, hearing it click open.

Since she has nowhere to go, the only option was to go up.

She reached the first floor and found herself in a dimly lit hallway.

She paused hearing some sounds. She glanced around finding nothing.

A chill ran down her spine as she continued. She paused noticing some papers scattered on the floor.

She picks up one paper and reads it carefully.

It was a newspaper article, listing how 2 girls had gone missing again. Sunny felt unsettled as she read it.

Two girls goes missing, only for their bodies to be found days later faced down in the riverside.

Fucking psychos, she thinks as she read the article and sets it down.

She moves down the hall and comes across an heavily decorated door.

Yeah, that's not a red flag at all.

But she figured that it was something that was importance to whatever spirit was putting her through this.

Taking a deep breath, she neared the door and paused, her hands hovered above the handle.

She felt something sinister was coming from the door. Sunny sighs as she paced back and forth.

"God, am I really gonna do this??" She asked herself as she tried to hype herself up too do just that. She took another deep breath and placed her hand on the knob before turning it and opened the doors.

Sunny peered inside and looked inside to see the room. It was dark, only a dim light was seen in the distance.

What the fuck????

The air feels thick, suffocating even.

She takes a step inside and hears the sound of crinkling under her feet.

More news articles.

She reaches down and read it with help from the light of the hallway, hoping to get more of an idea of where she was at.

The article continues from the first one, most of the disappearances happened around the infamous Paradiso Hotel.

Paradiso Hotel? Was that what this place is?

She continues reading the article, she notes how many of the missing girls and others were last spotted around said hotel.

How the hotel is said to be rumored to be tried to a crime syndicate.

It goes into how many more people disappeared around the hotel, some found days later but not without repercussions. Days later some of the missing victims would be spots jumping off from building or in front of trains.

She shudders.

It makes her wonder what was the connection to the hotel and the missing/found victims.

And if the hotel was tied to a crime syndicate, she doesn't want to think what went down behind closed doors.

Nothing good if she has anything to say.

She glanced around, seeing what looks to be an empty bedroom, on the way was some decorative mask on the wall.

Not creepy at all.

It looks like your typical hotel room, she was about to turn to leave when she noticed something wedge in between the mattress and bedframe.

Huh, what was that?

She moves the mattress slightly and finds a notebook.

A guest book...? Huh this might be something important if it was hidden.

But...

"Why would someone hide the guest book here?" She wonders out loud before take a quick glance through it. They were mostly comments from previous tenants. Positive mostly, and...er, slightly off putting at some lets just say that.

She flips to the last entry, noticing something scrawly written.

She squinted her eyes, carefully trying to make out the words to read them.

God whoever wrote this...

Their handwriting was atrocious.

"This is bad, S--- might have rated us out. There's rumors going on that she tattled on that teach and is going to cause a fiasco. This is bad, what should we---"

That's all she's able to make out. Everything was all marked out from over time.

Teach??? What does that mean?? Even the name that was mentioned was faded out.

Though reading from the entry, she assumed it was written by a student.

Strange though, why would a student be here unless...

She doesn't think to finish that thought, it makes her sick that it was a possibility.

One thing was clear, the last entry was confirmation of the possibility that the hotel was tied to a crime syndicate or something or the sort.

A lot of illegal things must have happened.

She figures that there might be more hidden about.

She makes a mental note to search for them, they might give more insight on what happened here or to whatever spirit (maybe spirits but she doesn't think she has the mental capacity to deal with more than one spirit) that was causing this.

Once she left the room, she stepped back into the hallway only for the already dim lights to flicker and go off.

"Oh shit..." she mutters bc well this suddenly seems familiar.

At the end of the hall, she could see a girl dressed in a red raincoat. Thing was, she was completely drenched despite being inside.

The alarm bells in her head was ringing again as she took a step back. She felt sick, as if whatever she had eaten prior was slowly creeping its way up her throat.

She hears the girl say something but it's unclear. Just hushed whispers.

The air became even more heavy with every step the girl takes. It was only when the girl was a just a bit away did she realize.

The girl was drenched in blood, not from the rain.

Sunny moves to back away when the girl suddenly grabs her arm and grips it tightly.

"Fuck," she winced at the pressure, a bruise would surely form the next day. Sunny grips the girl's wrist to pry herself free.

She still doesn't know what the girl was saying. Only shutting her eyes tight, praying to escape with her life.

And just like that, Sunny finds herself gasping as she looks to see herself back in her flat.

????? What the fuck?????

She stills and glances around slowly. She moves her arm and winced.

Rolling the sleeve up, she sees a nasty red hand print from where the spirit had gripped her.

Fucking great.

She sighs before taking a look up at the clock on her wall. Oh fuck, you're fucking kidding????

Sunny sees how much time had passed and bolts out the door to head down to the restaurant.

She only prays that he was still there.

As soon as she arrived at the restaurant, it was well close to 11, about 3 hours had past since the initial time they agreed to meet.

She quickly rushed to the front, where a hostess had greeted her.

She paused as she asked if a man with Steven's description had arrived. The hostess merely replied that she had only started around 9:30, meaning if Steven did arrived she didn't seat him.

She sighed, pressing her hands to her face. She hated this.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" The hostess asked.

Her eyes stung as she tried her best not to shed a tear, "Yeah, yeah I just..." she sighs as her shoulders fell, "I just had a date that's all..."

She felt her stomach growl, right. She hadn't even eaten yet.

Fuck it.

It didn't even bother her how the scene she saw hours prior was gruesome. She was still hungry.

"Table for one, and no need for a menu, I'll have the steak and your finest wine please..."

She sat in the corner of the restaurant, eating her steak in silence, sipping her wine every so often.

She really hated this.

TWO DAYS LATER

Since that night, she didn't dare text or called Steven, deathly afraid of how he would react.

Thankfully it was the weekend, so she didn't have to leave her flat, but it had gotten to the point where she barely leaves her room, spending her days rewatching kdramas.

It was Sunday night, she had been watching another episode of her kdramas when her phone rang.

She had been so engrossed in her drama that she didn't see the caller ID when she answered.

"Hello?" She sighs, eyes focusing on the TV.

"Sunny, love? Are we still on for tonight?" She jumped at the sound of Steven's voice.

"Steven???" Why was he calling her? She was certain he'd not want to speak to her after practically standing him up. And what does he mean still on for tonight???

"The date, you know best steak in town," he nervously laughs.

"I-er, wait, Steven where you at?" She asked, confused at what he was talking about.

"At the steakhouse, like we agreed, isn't that what we agreed on???"

What???? Is going on????

"I-wait Steven, you're not making any sense, what are you talking about?" She asked.

"Love, I'm not sure what you're saying either, today's the day of our date."

What?????

"....Steven, what day do you think it is?" She asked slowly.

"It's Friday."

Oh.

Oh Steven.

Sweet, sweet Steven...

"...Steven, sweetie, today is Sunday..." she replied carefully. She knew that sometimes Steven mixes up the dates from what he told her but never did she think it'd be like this.

"...no, it's Friday, right? Love, if this is you trying to have a laugh I don't find this funny at all," he said, almost desperate to believe that what she said wasn't true.

"No, Steven I mean it, it's Sunday."

Steven, who had been sitting at the table patiently waiting for Sunny, suddenly paused.

No, surely she was just playing a mean prank on him right?

But Sunny doesn't seem like the type to that. She was too nice to do something like that.

He noticed the waiter nearby and quickly stopped him.

"Sorry, but do you know the day?"

"It's Sunday, sir."

"....you're joking?"

Oh shit.

Steven took a deep breath as he slumped back in his seat. Did he really slept through 2 days?!

And that bloody damn dream he had...he still can't shake it off.

But what's worse was that fucking stood her up.

"...Steven?" Hearing her voice he snapped out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, I- shit. I'm just...I'm just having a rough day, today hasn't been the best..." He sighs, "And of course I had to be the one that botched it."

"...I...you're not mad at me..."

"Mad at you? For what?" Steven furrows his brows together, "Shouldn't you be the one furious with me? I stood you up! A whole two days!"

"No, wait. I thought I stood you up!" She confessed, "I arrived almost 3 hours later, I thought you thought I stood you up, which wasn't my intention, something had caught up and I, well, you know..."

"Well you can't really top this can you now?" His voice was small, she could practically picture him with those large puppy dog eyes.

She paused, "Well...if that's the case..."

Steven shuts his eyes.

This was it.

She's never going to want to speak, or even see him again. He would rather that they would stay friends, but he doubts she'll want to even be near him after this.

"...do you want to reschedule our date?"

What???

He blinks.

"Sorry what?"

"Since we both missed the time we were supposed to meet, how about we reschedule?"

"I-you, you still want to go on a date with me?"

"I mean...do you??? I understand if don't want to but, I really do like you Steven and I really wanted to give this a try....only if you want to."

What kind of a blood question was that??? He'd be a mad man to turn her down. Especially if she was willing to give him a chance to fix this.

"What sort of flowers do you like?" He suddenly blurts out, overcome with such a sense of relief. Sunny couldn't help but laugh, taken aback.

"That didn't really answer my question, but you don't have to get me flowers," she said. Steven feels his cheeks flushed at his blunder.

"Oh bullocks, I didn't mean to say that, I, meant- I," he stumbled over his words before finally answering her, "I meant to say yes, yes of course I do!" He quickly answered, "Going out with you I mean."

Sunny let out a relieved sigh, "Okay, that's good, because I would like it if we make this work..."

Steven feels his cheeks warm up, "I, do you mind I come visit you, I had some chocolates for you since I noticed you like sweet things and the restaurant doesn't really have a good variety of dessert surprisingly."

She smiles at the thought, "Sure I'd like that, if you want we can share those chocolates and watch some shows or even a movie..."

"Yeah, I'd like that very much."

She squeals as she hung up. Very excited that he wasn't upset.

Sure there was a bit of bump in the road but nothing they couldn't fix.

She was actually grateful that he'd accepted. She paused through, realizing her room was a mess.

She quickly changed out of her pajamas and into something more casual before cleaning up as much as she could before Steven could arrive.

She makes sure to wear a long sleeve to hid the slowly healing bruise on her arm from that spirit.

She hadn't seen or heard from Izanami since that night either, but whatever, more time to relish on the peacs.

Once she was done she decided to see if she could make any snacks. Vegan based tho ofc.

As she was thinking on what to make she heard a frantic knock at her door.

She opened to see Steven looking over his shoulders. As if something had spooked him.

"Steven?" He jumps and looks back at her.

"Oh love," he smiles slightly, he still looks jittery, "Can I come in?"

"Oh, right, ofc!" She moves to the side to let him in. Steven quickly shuffles inside and shuts her door. He takes a deep breath and turns to her.

"Steven, are you alright?" She asks, noticing his pale face.

"Just aces," he nods as he tried to forget what he had saw. He's sure that his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Steven, my love, are you sure you're alright?" She asked.

"I'm fine," he says, before glancing down at the items in his arms, "I, uh, got you something."

She sees the flowers and box of chocolate, smiling, "I know, you told me remember?"

"Right," he nods, she couldn't help but grin.

"I thought I told you, you didnt have to get me flowers," she said and took them from him to set the flowers in a small vase by the counter.

"I know, I know," he said, "But I already mucked this up and I feel terribly sorry about-" he starts.

"Steven, I told you it's fine--"

"And I just saw these on the way here and thought--"

"Steven, calm down--"

"--that these would look very pretty on you..." he finishes.

Her eyes grew wide at the statement, feeling her cheeks flushed.

Oh.

Oh.

She stares at him, her thoughts processing on anything to say to him. Ultimately she ends up saying:

"So, uh, any movies you're interest in?" She started and immediately cringes.

Really????

That's the best she could come up from her pea-sized brain????

"Sorry?"

"Oh god, I didn't mean for that to come out," she bemoans and pressed her hands to cover her face, "Sorry, I was just taken aback and wasn't sure what to say to that."

"Oh, I see, well..." he started, understanding her plight. "I guess for movies, anything is good..." he said, slowly starting to calm down, he felt a bit safer now that he wasn't alone.

"How do you feel about horror movies?" She asked. Ironic of her to ask that considering what she sees on a daily basis.

"Oh...maybe not horror, love..." truthfully after what he saw on the lift he's not sure if he would enjoy them right now.

"Have you watched Jurassic Park?" She asked.

"That's the dinosaur movie right?" He asked.

"Its not just a dinosaur movie!" She gasped, offended at the comment, "It's a cinematic materspiece!"

"What about the new ones?"

"We don't talk about the new ones in this household."

He couldn't help but chuckle at the serious look on her face, "Alright, love," he said, "I suppose we can watching it, I've never really got the chance to see it before," he adds.

"Oh my God! Now we have to watching it!" She said, pulling him to the living room area, "You just get comfortable and I'll get the chocolates and some snacks, alright?" She said as she headed towards the kitchen.

Steven glanced around, noticing how there was much more space compared to his own flat.

Nice, simple and very minimalistic, not to mention homey as well. Just like her, he thinks.

He couldn't help but glance around the living room. He saw a few photos. He noticed that they were of others.

Though one that had stuck out to him was a photo of two boys and a girl near the beach, an fairly old picture by the looks of it.

He thinks they look as if they were in high school, the girl in the picture seems familar, he assumed it was Sunny when she was young.

Steven wonders who the two boys were. Relatives? Friends?

He looked away from the photos, only to see a door slightly ajar.

You know what they say? Curioustiy killed the cat.

Steven take a quick peek inside and noticed that it was a smaller room almost set up like a studio with a canvas set on an easel and a camera stand leaning against the wall behind the easel along with some photos of other landscapes taped to a board.

Wow. He took notice on the painting of what he assumed was the outside scenary of London. It wasn't done, but it was still beautiful.

"Steven?" He heard her voice as she entered the room, "Oh, I didn't know you were in here?"

"Darling, did you paint this?" He asked in awe.

"Oh, yeah it's just something I was doing in my spare time, I was thinking of scraping it though," she shrugged.

"Scrap-no! Don't do that, it's beautiful, even if it's not finished!" He protested.

"Steven it's just a simple landscape painting, it's not even that great," she says.

"But it's true, how come you've never told me about this?" He asked. She shrugs.

"I'm not sure, truthfully I haven't done any painting in a long times, I just had a few extra time to myself and did it to pass the time," she explained.

"Darling, not to sound rude, but if you could paint like this, why are you a teacher? If anything I would except you to be an art teacher then at least."

"Oh well I did double majored in photography and illustration," she remarked, "I used to work as a photographer for a palentology journal, to be honest I'm not sure how I got the job offer to teach, I'm assume it was Dane's doing," she said before taking Steven's hand and led him out the door.

"That's enough about that though, we can talk about it another time if you'd like, but how about we just relax and watch the movie, okay?" He nods, smiling slightly.

"Alright, love, although we need to have a serious talk, I can't believe I've had such a talented artist right under my nose this whole time!"

"Maybe if our second first date goes well we can plan a small painting picnic," she jests, though it seems that Steven was all for it.

"That's a lovely idea, darling. The park would be a lovely place to do just that."

She wanted to tell him that she joking but seeing the tired look on his face, she left it be.

They sat on the couch, eating the box of chocolate Steven bought, with Sunny pointing out certain facts about each dinosaur that showed on screen along with little movie tidbits.

("Did you know that the Tyrannosaurus Rex have hollow bones??? Actually all carnivorous dinosaurs did, it's to help them be fast and agile! That's why paleontologist said that birds are the closets living relatives to them!" "That's amazing, love, I didn't know that before! 😯😯😯"

"Since you're the big Jurassic buff here, how accurate did the movies get with the dinosaurs???" "Well, as accurate as they could with the time of making the film, but compared to today's new findings, I'd say only the t-rex was accurate, maybe a little less chunkier. Since dinosaurs were closely related to birds of today, a lot of them should have feathers, or maybe some peach fuzz at least."

"You know they made actually used animatronics for most of the dinosaurs back then????" "Really? I thought most of it was cgi???")

Steven found it cute. Often quipping his own questions to which she happily answered back.

Steven didn't know much about Jurassic Park or even dinosaurs in general but he did like how invested she was.

Somehow as time passed, she leaned against him, feeling comfortable in her spot as she watched the movie intently.

Steven stiffed, unsure what to do. Was he supposed to hold her??? Put his arm around her shoulder???

He didn't really think this far when he asked to come over.

His plan was to initially come over to apologize until she offer him to watching a movie with her.

What was that part-timer kid he worked with call it???

Netflix and chill????

Oh bloody hell.

God he's blushing now.

He was deep in his thoughts that he didn't realize that her head on his shoulder now.

His body seizes as he took notice and glanced down at her, still watching the movie.

Oh god, he really didn't think this through.

Does he just--???

Suddenly his arm moves on its own, wrapping one arm around her shoulders

What the fuck was that???

Oh god, Steven panics as he shifted and suddenly her head onto his chest.

Sunny's eyes wided, almost screaming internally.

She looks up at him and he's frozen, eyes staring down. He feels a sense of panic rise that he can't explain it and immediately pulls away from her.

Sunny seemed to notice his panic and sits up straight, "Steven? Are you alright?" She asked.

"I-,I'm--" he's not sure how to make of it. Today was just an absolute nightmare, "I'm sorry, today has just been absolutely mental..."

"Do you want to talk about?" She offers. That seemed to be all it take for him to start rambling. He explained about the nightmare he had when he woke, how it all felt so real. And how he was sure he felt pain, could still feel it linger when he awoke.

"I don't know how to make sense of it, I mean the Alps of all places? What would I bloody be doing in the Alps in the first place?"

"That does sound odd," she says, squinting her eyes. She thought he was going to see some relatives but it seems like Steven doesn't even remember that. Just what is going on?

"You think I'm going mental," he sighs with a dejected look.

"Steven, despite how crazy this all sounds, I do believe you," she replied, "I think you're going through something, I just don't know how to explain it..."

Deep down, she worried that he was afflicted with some encounter with the spirits based on her own past expericence.

But how does she tell him that without spooking him.

Or worse.

He thinks she's the one that's mental.

Where the hell was Izanami when she needed her???

"Darling, you don't need to lie to me to make me feel better," he mutters, "Honestly, I believe I'm going mental myself."

"Steven, no, look I'm not saying this to make you feel better, I do meant it when I say I believe you," she said, taking his hand in hers and placed one hand on his cheek so he could look at her.

When he did she gave him a small smile and pressed her lips to his forehead, "Look, we can figure this out, tell me what else happened in this nightmare?"

Steven smiles slightly, a sense of comfort from the kiss, "There were people shooting at me. I didn't even know who they were, but they seemed outright pissed with me. So I ran into this village and oh god, you should have seen it, it looked like I stumbled onto some cult."

Her brows shot up, "A cult?"

"Their leader had a cane and some tattoo scales on his forearm," He nods, recalling the events.

"Sounds like a real psycho..." she says and scrunched her nose together. If Steven wasn't going through it right now, he mention how she'd look like a cute rabbit right there.

"He does doesn't he?" Steven bemused. He continued, explaining the wild things that went down along the a voice that kept telling him to give the body to Marc.

"Body? What does that mean? And who's Marc?" She asks, just as confused as Steven.

"I wish I knew, love, honest I'd tell you if I knew," he answered. Sunny hums before noticing the time.

"It's getting late, we'll figure this out tomorrow," she said, "Maybe a good night's rest will put you more at ease," she suggested.

Steven glanced up at the clock and sighed, "Maybe," she walked him towards the door and towards his flat.

"Listen, I'm not sure what's going on, but we'll figure it out, okay," she said, "Just make sure to get some rest, today was a long day."

"I suppose so," he said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything, a normal person would call me mental for all the things I've just told you," he said.

"Well remember I was a bit odd growing up, and any person can tell that you're in distress on your own if they paid attention."

"No one really pays attention to me if you know what I mean," Steven mutters lowly.

"Well, I do," Sunny replied, "I always pay attention to you, even when it's something I don't quite understand, I can help it but listen to what you say," she paused, place her hands on his cheeks, "You just look so pretty when you talk of the things you love."

Steven stares at her, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, he's surprised it hasn't busted out of his chest.

He wonders if this was what it meant to be in love.

Without a second thought, he leaned close to her and pressed his lips against hers.

She surprised at first, not expecting him to do the first move but she's not complaining.

When he pulled away, he looks as if stars were in his eyes.

God, he's so pretty, she thinks.

Sunny has a small smile on her face before speaking, "Good night Steven," and pecks his lips again.

"Night," he mutters clearly dazed. He blinks and he's back in his flat again. And although she told him to get some rest, he just can't. Maybe he should've listened, because nothing would prepare him for what was about to happen next.

THE NEXT DAY

Sunny wakes up to frantic knocking in her door.

What the fuck???

She groans as she walks over to her door and opens it to see Steven.

The first thing he noticed was the scared look he had and how red his eyes were.

"Steven? What's wrong?" She asked, rubbing her face with one hand.

"Darling, I'm going completely mad now," he said as he entered her flat and takes a seat on her couch.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" She asked, taking a seat next to him and placing one hand on his shoulder.

"I tried to get some rest like you said, but I just couldn't leave it, so I started messing around the flat and I found a hole in the wall hidden away."

"A hidden hole?" She repeats.

"I found an old phone in it and it started to ring suddenly," he recounts, "I answered because I thought I could get some answers but a woman answered and kept calling me Marc," he said.

"Marc like the one from your nightmare you told me last night?"

"I belive so, oh god, and here's the real kicker, I swore that my reflection had talked to me!"

"What?"

"I can't make sense of it myself, but love, please believe me when I say that it did happen, he kept telling me to stop looking right after I found the phone," Steven continued, to which Sunny continued to rub his back to soothe him.

He suddenly scoffs as he tells her the next part, "I think there's a ghost haunting me."

She jumps at this, "Ghost?!" All of a sudden, the fears she had initially had were starting to come true. If Steven was being haunted by a spirit and it was because of her, she would never forgive herself. He deserves better than this.

"Love, when I went outside to take the lift downstairs, I saw some skeletal bird man staring back at me at the end of the corridor. "

"A skeletal bird man??" Well that's the first she's heard of this.

"I was so terrified, I couldn't even think straight when Ms. Agnes hopped onto the lift, I'm certain she finds me mad now."

"Oh, Steven," she sighs, "I'm not sure what to make of all this, but we'll figure it out, I already said that didn't I?"

"I'm sorry that I'm putting you through all this, love. I just don't have anyone else to turn to," he sighs.

"Hey, don't worry about it, look I..." she paused, trying her best to say her words carefully, "I can't say it now, I will one day, but trust me when I say I've been through some crazy and unexplainable things in my life," she said, "It might not be exactly the same as what you're going through but I can relate a bit."

Steven paused glancing back at her, he can't help but wonder what happened, but he doesn't push.

She had been patient with him through all this maddness, the least he could do is respect her wishes and wait patiently for her to tell him.

But even so, his heart was so full hearing her support him even though he's sure he's going mad.

How had he even end up to be so lucky to meet her.

"Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asked.

Oh god.

Did he really just said that.

Steven wants to slap himself.

He just had to say the first thing that came to mind, huh?!

An absolute knob he is.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask that!" He starts, rambling all of a sudden. She couldn't help but smile.

Sunny grins and leans in to kiss his lips, "You're lucky you're so cute," she said, "Although we should get ready for work, I'm pretty sure we'll miss the earliest bus if we don't."

Steven's mind goes blank from the kiss but he nods mutely, "Yeah, yeah, ok,' he said.

Sunny walks him out to the door and pushes him back towards his flat, "Come on, I'll walk you to work this time," she said.

"But what about you--?"

"Don't worry your pretty brilliant head of yours, I'll have Dane cover for me for today," she answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Steven, I'm sure," she said, "Meet me downstairs and we can talk more about what's going on on the way to the museum."

Once done changing, she met him downstairs and headed towards the bus.

Steven seemed sleep deprived due to stressing over last night so she suggested he take a small nap.

He was apprehensive at first, but she assured him that she would wake him up when they arrived.

Steven sighed and rested his eyes, taking the rest he needed.

While he did that, Sunny decided to try to reach out towards Izanami.

"Izanami? Are you there????" More silence. This bitch.

Sunny huffed as she tried to make sense of what Steven had told her.

It was odd, it sounded similar to those out of body experiences she's had in the past, but also not really.

Just something about it didn't add up.

She think back on what had happened that led up to this.

Then she remembered the night he patched her up, she realized he never asked if she was okay

Actually, it seemed like he didn't even remember it.

Also why was he acting different at the time???

It like as if he was a completely different person just like the night he had asked her out--

Before she could finish that thought, Steven jumped, letting out a startled shout.

"Steven, Steven, it's okay," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, "It's okay, you're alright, I'm right here."

He panted slight as he glanced at her then out towards the window where he saw said skeletal bird man from his nightmares as the bus passed by.

Oh great, he thinks bitterly.

"Steven, what's wrong?" She asked again, growing more and more concerned. Steven gave her a quick glance before swallowing thickly.

"Nothing, I'm aces, love. Just seeing the skeletal pigeon man is really making my morning," he said, giving her a wry smile. Her brows shot up. He saw it?? When??

"Steven are you sure? If you want we can turn back and just spend the day at home--"

"No, no," Steven dismissed, "I'll be alright, look our stop is here," He said, standing up from his seat and took her hand.

They got off the bus, hand in hand.

Neither realized it as Steven glanced across the street.

"Oh lovely, there he is," he mutters. She turned to she were he was looking at and saw....

Oh what the hell???

She feels like it's a blur, something was definitely there where he was looking at, but she didn't know what.

"The bird man skeleton?" She asked.

"The bird man skeleton," he confirms.

"He's not threatening you, is he?" She couldn't help but ask.

"You mean other than giving me a heart attack or nightmares for day? No."

She lets a relieved sigh.

That's good.

But before she could say anything else, she feel Steven tense beside her.

"Oh bullocks," he suddenly turned, pulling her along to do the same.

"What? What's wrong--"

"Its him!" He hastily whispers, making quick glances over his shoulder, "The cult leader from the Alps."

Sunny was about to glance over to see him and Steven stopped her, "No, don't!" He said, holding her by the shoulders. He quickly pulled her into the museum, where they hid behind the glass doors and stared out.

Sunny saw an older man with grayish long hair. Man just screams, deluded for sure.

"He probably remembered when I worked because I told him!" Steven panics, "Stupid, why did I bloody do that?!"

"Steven, take a deep breath and count to ten, look we'll talk to the security guards to not let him in, alright?"

"Yeah," he nodded still feeling anxious, "Yeah, okay," he breathed out.

"Good," she said as she dragged him to where they saw one of the security guard on his phone.

"Hey, J.B. mate, how's it going?" Steven said, gaining the guard's attention.

The guard glanced up and noticed the two, "Oh, how's it going, Scotty?"

"It's Steven," the two said. He looks back between the two. Sunny rolls her eyes as Steven continued, looking over his shoulders.

"You watching otter videos again?"

"Oh they're adorable."

"Uh, yeah. Cool, cool, cool, listen mate, I need ya to keep an eye out, 'cause I'm being followed."

"You're joking?"

"Look there's some delusion old man and he's been trailing after Steven like a stalker, can you do that or not?" Sunny asked, taking over now.

"It's a muesum, can't keep people out," he shrugged.

Sunng clicks her tongue as she turns away, "Ugh, useless," she mutters, while Steven tried to convice J.B. to keep the old man from coming in.

"Listen, just don't let anyone dodgey alright?" Stven sighed as he moved away from the desk and went to her side, "I'm so sorry about this, love..."

"Steven, don't worry, look let's just--"

"Stevie! There you are," they turned to see an angry Donna holding something in her arms. Sunny cursed, of fucking course. Great fucking timing.

"You're late, don't just blood stand there making puppies eyes at each, get to work!"

"Hey, do you mind? We're in a middle of an important discussion," Sunny huffed.

"I don't bloody care, he needs to get to work if he want to continue to keep his job!"

"Alright, listen here you viper of am ommpa loompa--"

"The man from the bus," Steven gasped. Sunny turned to see the man from before now in the museum. She narrowed her eyes at him as Donna berated Steven.

"Steven," Sunny started, "Just head to work alright?" She said, giving him a quick hug and leaned close into his ear, "I'll stick around, okay, I don't want anything to happen to you if I'm gone."

Steven relaxed a bit hearing this, if that man was following him then at least he'd have Sunny here with him, "Alright, love," he said, "I'll text you."

Sunny smiled as she pulled away and pointed towards the art gallery the museum had, noting to him that's where she'll be.

When she left him, she noticing a certain goddess standing near the artwork, "This bitch," she mutters to herself.

The goddess had her arms crossed as she stared at Sunny and tilted her head to follow her as she walked off to the side.

She glanced around seeing that nobody had taken notice of the goddess.

Of course.

With that, she quickly make haste to where Izanami had walked off.

When saw the goddess, she stood in place with her arms behind her back, staring at painting.

"What the hell?! You sure have some great timing for a god!" Sunny snapped, "Where were you for the past 3 days?!"

"Oh, calm down, I was merely giving you space after you date," the goddess replied.

"Which didn't happen by the way, thanks for asking," Sunny huffed.

"Oh, yes. That I know," Izanami agrees, "But enough about that, I sense a terrible foreboding is about come and it's coming from that man that is stalking your boy toy."

"Yeah I kinda got that when Steven told me the guy is a cult leader," she sighed out, "And I thought I told you to stop calling him that!"

"You did, but I didn't listen," Izanami shrugged before continuing, "Regardless, it's best to have caution should you encounter that man, I can't be sure what it is he wants or plans to do, but I sense it'll cause an imbalance between the living and dead," Sunny paused, seeing look Izanami had. She's never seen the goddess look so befuddled before, "He's dangerous. Something evil lurks within him. And i don't like that I don't know what it is."

Sunny was about to reply when Izanami paused, her brows furrowed together before she turned to her, "You need to go, I sense your little boy toy is in great distress now and that man is somewhere nearby."

"What??!!"

Hearing this, Sunny didn't waste time as she quickly went to find Steven.

Please be okay, please be okay, she prays to herself.

When she finally finds Steven, the man is with him.

He had Steven cornered by some hieroglyphics mural and was trying to talk to him.

She frowned seeing Steven visibly uncomfortable in his place.

He looked as if he was going to pass out.

Sunny took a deep breath, getting her acting game together before calling out to Steven.

"Steven, darling, there you are!" She said, rushing towards him and grasped his arm, "Oh, I've been looking all over for you! You promise me that you'd help me out with my dissertation on the history of Egyptian mummification process and their rituals."

Her disser-what now???

Why would she need his help when she's a teacher herself.

Steven seemed loss for a second before he finally sees the look she's giving him.

Oh.

Oh!

"O-oh, yes, r-right," He said, nodding his head, "I'm sorry, love, I must have lost track of the time..."

"That's alright," she said and purposely put herself between the man and Steven and creates some distance between them, "So terribly sorry to cut whatever this is short, but I really do need his help."

"My, I didn't realize he had a friend," the older man said, a smile on his face that makes her want to punch him, "I am Arthur Harrow, what is yours?"

"Jane Doe," She replied, narrowing her eyes at Harrow. As if she'll give him her name, fucking creep.

Harrow chuckles, "I see, its good to be cautious, but are you aware of who the man beside you really is?" Harrow asked, "Tell me Steven Grant of the gift shop, does she know the truth?"

Yeah she really want to punch him now. Bastard.

"W-what truth?" Steven asked, just as confused.

"I wonder, do either of you know of Ammit?"

"Do I know of Ammit? Not exactly..." Steven said quickly as he held Sunny's hand and backed away slowly with her, "Egyptian deity, right?? World's first boogeyman?? She punished those who were evil and ate their hearts."

Dammit Steven, now is not the time to flex your Egyptian encyclopedia, Sunny thinks.

"Sounds delightful..." Sunny supplies, crinkling her nose in disgust.

"She grows wary of waiting for sinners to commit their crimes before punishing them," Harrow said, taking a few steps toward the two, "I ask you this, would you wait to weed a garden till after all of the roses were dead?"

"I-I wouldn't do that..." Steven shrugged.

"Seriously?" She hissed at him as she elbowed Steven in the side.

"The justice of Ammit, suverys the whole of our lives," Harrow continued.

"Got it..." Steven whimpers. "Sounds exhausting..." Sunny mutters.

"She knows what we've done and what we will do."

"Yeah, well books left that part out..." Steven remarks a bit cheekily.

"Had Ammit been free, she would have been able to prevent Hitler; the destruction he wrought. Nero, the Armenian genocide, Pol Pot."

"Not nice people."

"Steven!" She shushes him as she glanced back at the man.

"None of it would had happened if Ammit was here, but she was betrayed."

"Was she now?" Steven.

"By fellow insolent gods, even by her own avatar."

"Hm, sounds like they had a good reason if you ask me..." Sunny.

"'Avatars.' Blue people. Love that film," Steven quipped.

Sunny paused before frowning slightly, "Steven, we really need to update your movie repertoire. That movie is just a bad rendition of Pocahontas in space..."

"Ha ha, can't take this one anywhere, yeah?" Steven tried to joke, trying to cope with his rising anxiety and stress.

"No, by avatar I mean--"

"You mean like the TV show?" Sunny suggested this time, "Great show, love it."

"Stop it," Harrow says, unimpressed by the two's constant adlibs. The two immediate shut their mouths. "Steven, give me the scarab."

"I don't have it, mate. Honestly," Steven answered.

"Steven, I won't ask again--" Harrow said, grabbing Steven's arm.

"Back off," Sunny snapped, wedging herself between the two, "Listen whatever this stupid scarab is, he doesn't have it. So scram before I dislocated your jaw, old man."

"I saw this man take the scarab with my own eyes."

"Then I'd say you need to get 'em check out," She remarked.

"It must be nice to have some blindly defend you," Harrow notes, "I wonder how Ammit will react upon finding out you're defending a thief. Perhaps we should find out."

Harrow reaches out to take Sunny's hand when Steven shouted, "No, I saw what you did to that poor woman in the Alps!" He said and pushed her behind him.

Harrow seemed mildly surprised at Steven's sudden shift in behavior before glancing his eyes between the two, "I'm only telling her what many others will know soon enough."

"If you want to judge someone, judge me," Steven said making her snap her eyes at him.

"Steven!" She hissed, worried about what would come next. Harrow took Steven hand, to which she saw the scales tattoos on his forearm, exactly how Steven described it when he first saw it, and watched how they moved against his skin.

If this wasn't some absolute deluded wackjob she was dealing with, she'd find this pretty sick really.

"Oh hell..." she mutters before hearing Harrow speak, almost astounded by what he saw.

"There is chaos in you."

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" Sunny snaps, "Neat party trick there but we have things to do and places to be--"

Just as she pulled Steven away from Harrow and tried to lead the two out the doors, when he grabbed her arm. She winced as it was the one with the bruise. Harrow paused as the scale tattoo stayed still in place, no once moving like it did with Steven.

"How strange, this is the first this has happened," Harrow mutters, while Steven looks in horror, "It seems like Ammit can not judge you."

"Lucky me, I guess," Sunny mutters as she rips her arm back from Harrow and steps back with Steven behind her.

"I can't help but be curious now, why is it that Ammit can't judge your scales? Its truly a sight..." Sunny remains quiet before glancing off to the side to see Izanami.

The goddess' eyes narrowed at the scene before them, ready to intervene if needed. Maybe that's why, she thinks.

"Not sure," Sunny shrugs,"You know human error exists, why not godly error?" She jests, "We should be leaving now," she immediately pushes Steven towards th exit as more patreon filled towards where they were at.

One finally away, Sunny glanced behind and lets out a small sigh.

"Okay, I think we're in the clear now," she mutters.

"He wants the scarab," Steven mutters, "I don't think he'll leave us alone without it..." he pauses, "Love what was that?"

"What was what?" She asked.

"The scales...something should have happened but it didn't," he explained, "When he judged that woman in the Alps, her scales weren't balanced and she died. But nothing happened to you, why?"

"A story for another time," she said, continuing to glance over her shoulders, "Listen, Steven this goes under something under things I can't explain without freaking you out, you just got to trust me, alright?"

"Of course I trust you just..." He paused, "Are you some sort of undercover spy????" He asked.

Undercover what????

She looks at him confused.

Of all the things he could come up from what she said.

That's what he comes up with.

I mean, she really shouldn't be surprised at him....

He's lucky he's cute and she's absolutely taken by him.

"What? No! I'm not an undercover spy," she reassured him, "Just...in a bit of a weird situation, alright."

"Alright..." he concedes, "Just...you'd tell me if you were in trouble, yeah?"

"Oh, Steven, of course I would," she said. Steven feels a sense of relief hearing that. Something deep down inside of him would just die if he'd let anything happen to her.

"Ok, alright. Good," he said. She smiles and leans in to kiss his cheeks. His cheeks were a bright pink hue at the intimacy.

"I should let you get back to work now," She said and pulled away. He was about to protest when she stopped him, "I'm not going anywhere, I'll be at the local cafe just down the street. If Harrow tries to pull a fast one and corner you again, call me and I'll make sure to break his nose."

"Got it," he nods. He shouldn't admit that hearing that she would break a crazy old cult leader's nose made him swoon a bit, but it did (he'd lowkey paid to see it happen).

"Good."

"Though, are you sure you'll be alright waiting? Donna was peeved with me and forced me to stay back late tonight."

She rolled her eyes, "Of course she did," she muttered, "Although, I think a part of that was my fault. Sorry."

"Don't say that, love. Knowing Donna, she would've found an excuse to have me stay back anyways..."

"Maybe, but don't worry about me," she said, "I'll come pick you up with some dinner and we can figure out whatever this scarab thing is at home, does that sound good?"

"Yeah, that's aces," he says.

"Alright, I'll come back with some Thai food from down the street, stay safe and if Donna starts again, I'll personally give her a peace of my mind."

With that said she left, although she feels her shoulders become heavy. Just what the hell was Steven going through? She couldn't make sense of it, but that doesn't mean she won't stop trying.

This was gonna be a long day....

[lordoftablecloths]

vent post i guess i dont know i just wanted to write stuff down instead of just go ing to bed and crying over it you can just scroll past it

im fine im sane im noramal im so unbleiveably cringe ,, the only person i have irl- fuck, or even online for that matter- to show the dumbass things i write is my silly little dumbass younger brother who doesn;t understand what im trying to get at and i guess its not his fault, i seriously doubt he's spent unhealthy amounts of time making various short scenerios in his head about charcters he came up with and eventually trying to give them a story and write little things about them in google docs because where else am i supposed to put this and its just ,, he doesnt know wht im trying to do and i dont know how to explain it to him because the "history" i gess behind it is so fucking complicated by now that these characters arent even the same characters as they were when i originally created them, other than some physical attributes and their names and he just knows them as the random cringe shit i made up in middle school but so many years have passed by now that these stupid fuckers whose only purpose to serve is to make me stop remembering that i exist and ive gotten too attatched to them because who else was i supposed to get attatched to when i was going through an identity crisis at the time- and, quite frankly, still fucking am- and it was so much easier to pretend i dont exist and just project my flaws and insecurities and underlying subconcsious thoughts into these charactes that no one knows about except me and oh god im just created a long ass vent post on tumblr that no one's going to read and no one understands the story behind fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck whatever ill go ahead and post this unfinished thing because no one's going to get it either way ill probably delete it later if it doesnt get buried under reblogs

dont think too much about this i just got sad because my brother was giving me a bunch of criticism on an outline of a story i was working on- which is fair, i need to take criticism- but he only knows the characters in it as their semi-formed cringe versions so i chickened out half way and now i feel bad because i was really proud of this thing for the whopping span of like one day before i decided to show it to another human person instead of letting it rot away inside of me like i usually do and now i feel bad about my writing skills

im trying so hard to just take his words with a grain of salt because this kid does not have nearly as much experience with writing as i do, but i feel like im copying too many of my inspirations (DnD, generic fantasy story about defeating evil creature, silly tropes, etc,,) which sucks because that was just like the first two pages of the outline and theres nine fucking pages and like the second half of it was what i put the most effort into and i felt like the ideas were really origianl but i could make myself let him naturally get to that part of the outline because i was starting to feel really bad and wieerd and oh god he is looking at ideas i havent ever expressed to another human person even though i am very familaiar with because i came up with them and they havebeen in my head for at least a year or two by now and have been haunting me ever since so instead of skipping ahead to the parts that were really good in my opinion but would have made no sense without context i just told him to piss off i gues s

i dont know. i feel dumb. i feel stupid. ive put so much effort into this stuff and the concept that ive been wasting my time feels like too heavy of a weight to handle. god none of this porbobably nmakes any sense ,,,,,,,,, i guess this is why i feel miserable when the fanart and shitpost memes i post get a comically larger audience and attention than the art relating to my silly goofy ocs, because these stupid fucking characters are all thats keeping me going . call me cringe, but is it still cringe if the concept that maybe i too can be around people that love me and instead of having to like me in spite of my faults love me for them keeps me from fucking killing myself is it still cringe?

if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around, does its fall even make a sound? (shit piss fuck sorry i dont remember the original quote and all i can remember is tha t one line from that one musical i dont remember what it was)

if an autistic moron that cant even talk to a cashier without having a panic attack makes a universe full of fictional characters of his own cfreation then an alternate universe, then several alternate universes, then a spin off from that original universe and etc etc but its all just on google fucking docs and no where else except deleted excerpts from a dead wattpad account, did he ever even create anything at all?

its pointless. its all so fucking pointless. its a waste of time. why do i do this at all. its so fucking pointless. it makes no fucking sense. you cant just make a story with characters in it, then make a fucking fantasy au of that universe with the same characters but with different designs and wildly different personalities and then make a whole fucking complicated lore-filled story about the fantasy au version while the original universe's story is still left mostly unfinished like forget about a first draft of the text i havent even finished the first ddraft of the outline yet buckarooooooo

okay fuck you guys thats all i want to tell you im going to go pretend to myself to try to go to sleep and then cry now