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slytherinbangchan · 11 months

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Oddinary Love chap5 [M] Hyunsung hybrids!Au

Pairings: Wolf Jisung x femreader, Fox Hyunjin x femreader, Hyunsung.

Genre: Smutty fluff tbh. Cute and dirty, kinda filthy, idk.

Warnings: Contains smut, (which includes degradation kink, praise kink, exhibitionism, etc...)

Hybrids!Au Masterlist Chap1 here Chap4 here Learn More about the characters here

“Are you hard again? Did you go and sniff her bed?” Hyunjin teasingly asks, lightly palming the wolf, and Jisung clicks his tongue, slapping Jinnie's hand away. “I miss her. I feel like her period lasted forever this month.” He says, making the fox chuckle. “Just two more days than the usual.” He says, watching as Jisung sits on the sofa and sighs. “It was a lot...” Jisung complains again and Jinnie scoffs. “So needy.” He says, easily managing to get on Jisung's nerves. “Yeah, well, don't pretend you don't feel the same.” He tells him. “I could smell your cum on her bed even if you got rid of the pillowcase.” He says, bringing some red to Jinnie's cheeks. “We have to figure out how to use that freaking washing machine.” He says, making Jisung laugh. “Yeah.” He agrees, sighing right after as he throws his head back in the sofa. “I miss her...” He whines, making the fox feel some kind of way. “Why did she have to go on a business trip right away?” He complains and Hyunjin's heart feels a little heavy too. Jisung doesn't have to explain anything to him. He knows by first hand how he's feeling. It's not just the sex, even if that's the only thing they'd mention outloud, but their entire self hurts when you're away.

“Well, she should be back today.” Hyunjin tells him, kneeling in front of him and making himself some room between his legs. Jisung rolls his eyes. “What are you doing?” He asks, and Jinnie chuckles softly. “Stop whining and just let me help you out.” He says with his hands already on Jisung's joggers. He stares at him for a second then he looks away. “Whatever.” He says, and Hyunjin smiles before pulling down his pants. “You know...” He says before running his tongue from the base to the tip. “You can also practice with me if you want before she comes back.” He suggests. “What are you talking about now?” Sungie asks, then he closes his eyes for a moment as he blushes while Hyunjin squeezes his tip. “You know, so you won't hurt y/n next time.” He tells the wolf before taking him in his mouth and Jisung clicks his tongue. “As if...” He says. A moan scapes him as Hyunjin works on him. “It's way harder to control myself around y/n.” He says and Hyunjin stops just to laugh. “Oh, I know... You're hard 24/7 whenever she's ovulating. It's kinda cute.” He says, making Jisung blush. “You're talking too much today.” He tells him, grasping on his hair and pulling. “Why don't you just finish what you started and go away?” He suggest, pulling his head closer to his shaft again, and Hyunjin giggles, waggling his tails. “Mhm~” He happily says before taking him in his mouth again.

~~~~~~~

“You think they'll be okay with Channie?” Your work friend asks and you chuckle. “Nope.” You honestly say, making the hybrid sitting in the back seat scoff as he smiles. “They will be.” He distractedly says as he plays on his phone. You don't know him a lot, but he sure has a more dominant kind of vibe than your hybrids. Wonder how big of a problem that'll be with two alfas at home. “Let me go in first just in case.” You tell them, and they both agree.

You enter the cabin not knowing what to expect and find your hybrids waiting on a defensive stand. “You brought another wolf.” Hyunjin says with a disgusted face. “A human too.” Jisung adds. “I- Did... but it's my friend's hybrid who as you already know is also in the car. I didn't bring Channie so he can stay with us, you don't have to worry about that.” You explain, but that doesn't seem to make them feel more at ease. “Then what is he doing here?” Jisung asks. “Well, my friend had to leave her apartment for the night and I offered our spare room.” They don't seem too happy about it but they don't say anything else either. “I'm sorry.” You apologize, petting their heads. “I haven't tell her about us either yet so we should probably...” You start saying and they both whine, pouting. “But you've been away for so long!” Jisung complains. “Ah, I'm sorry. I know...” You pout too before kissing them, and Jisung grasps on your hips as he deepens the kiss. Hyunjin on your back side kissing your neck.

God... they're both so hard already. And you've missed them so much too.

Your phone chimes and you come back to Earth. “Ah, I have to go get them.” You tell your hybrids, kissing them again, and Hyunjin helps Jisung let go of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Woah, y/n. Can't believe you never had us over before. Your house is so pretty.” Your friend says. “Thank you~” You distractedly answer. You're kinda worried about your hybrids mood right now. “Hey.” Chan says, and they reluctantly answer in the same way. It's a bit tense in the room but it also feels okay enough. “It looks like they're okay with Channie being around. That's a relief.” Your friend says. Sweetely ruffling her hybrid's hair. “Do you mind if I leave to take a quick shower then? It was a long day.” She asks and you nod and show her the way to the bathroom followed by Chan. You can hear Jisung's growls from there, so you take a look at him and Jinnie from the top of the stairs as soon as your friend is settled in. Their eyes are on you, but also on the wolf behind you. You hadn't seen Jisung this annoyed since Hyunjin appeared on your doorstep for the first time. The fox seems more relaxed, but you know that's just a façade. He's good at keeping appearances, but he's almost as possessive as the wolf.

You feel Channie's fluffy coat against your waist as he lovingly nudges your side while he walks by you in his wolf form on his way downstairs. And your heart skips a beat seeing how fast your hybrids have changed into their animal form too to jump in front of him. “Noooo. Omg.” You dramatically say. Rushing downstairs too. They growl at eachother for a bit as you panic on the side, but then Chan just stops and goes back to his hybrid form then sighs. “Sorry.” He apologizes, raising his hand. “I was just thankful to her for taking care of my master and me. I wasn't trying to scent her or anything.” He explains, and Jisung and Hyunjin go back to their hybrid form too. “I don't care. Don't touch her again.” Jisung says, speaking for both of them. Your hands trembling as you approach him. “O-Okay, he understands.” You tell him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “Let's sit down for a bit and watch some tv or something.” You suggest, and Jisung finally looks at you, seeing the concern in your eyes. His expression changes as he realizes how you're feeling, and he holds your hand to kiss it. “I'm sorry.” He apologizes, and you really feel like crying. It's not his fault. It's you who brought another wolf to your home.

Jisung sits by your side and Hyunjin on the floor between your legs so you can play with his hair. “Can I hug you?” Jisung asks, and your heart hurts knowing it's your fault too that he can't simply do it and freely be himself around you tonight. “Of course you can.” You tell him, and he snuggles into you, breathing you in as he buries his head on your tummy.

Ah... He's so obviously hard under those joggers, and you're getting wet just thinking about how big he is. Hyunjin's ears twitch before he turns his head around to look at you. His eyes drifting down to your pussy as he licks his lips. You gulp down some saliva trying to calm down your heart, but ah... That smirk. He probably can smell how wet you just got. Wait. Does that mean that Chan can smell it too? You try to take a peek at him, but your friend interrupts before you get to do it. “I'm all done! Should we make some dinner?” She asks, startling you all a bit, and you quickly throw a pillow at Jisung's lap as you stand up. “S-Sure.” You say.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You wanna eat something too?” You ask Jisungie seeing that he's taking a look inside the fridge. “I'll make whatever you want.” You say, sweetely combing his hair back with your fingers. “Mhm, it's okay. I'll go hunt in a bit, I need some air.” He says, closing the fridge's door, and you nod and hug him. Taking the chance to breath in his scent.

It makes your heart flutter.

You really want to kiss him, but you're not sure you can right in front of your work friend. You don't think she's one of those people who think hybrids and humans shouldn't date, but also, you don't know her all that well either, and those people tend to be really dangerous. So for now, it's safer for your hybrids to just pretend.

“What about you Jinnie~?” You ask, leaning over him in a backhug, and he reaches for your arms as he smiles. “I'm okay too, master. I'll leave in a bit.” He tells you. “Seems like we're all going hunting, then.” Chan says, and your friend stops cutting veggies to look at him. “But you're not used to these woods.” She worriedly says. “Your pack is far away from here too. Are you going to go alone?” She asks. “Right... I guess I could join Jisung's pack for the night.” He says, making Hyunjin chuckle at what in his head sounds like a ridiculous idea, and you all look at Jisung. He stares at you for a moment, noticing your worried look again, then he sighs. “Whatever, sure.” He agrees.

Dinner goes by peacefully somehow even if anyone could tell that specially Jisung is not happy to have Chan around.

You start with the dishes as your friend uses the bathroom for a minute since Hyunjinnie left for hunting a bit ago, and Jisungie is about to. “Go ahead, I'll let my master know I'm leaving too and meet you outside.” Chan tells him, and you can feel Jisung's eyes on both of you even though you're not facing either of them. “You take more than a minute and I'll come back to drag you out by your neck.” He calmly threats him, but Chan just scoffs, handing you some more dishes. “Understood.” He says, and Jisung reluctantly but finally leaves. “He's a feisty one, huh?” He says, and you can't help but chuckle. “Yeah. Can't really domesticate a wolf, can we?” You ask, but he simply smirks to himself as he finishes bringing all the dirty dishes to the counter.

“Sooo... You're fucking your hybrids, huh?” Chan whispers at you as he walks behind you to stand by your side, making your heart stop for a long second. You stare at him trying to figure out which one of the stuff you or they did in front of him gave it away, but he just smiles, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Don't worry, it's nothing they said or did specifically. We hybrids tend to be very zealous of our masters. It's not weird to be cautious of other hybrids.” He explains, but that only makes you more confused. “You're ovulating. I can smell it. That to us is like if you were on heat.” He answers without you even asking again. Can hybrids read minds too? “It seems like it smells extra nice for them.” He says. His eyes drifting to your lower body. “Their breaths and heartbeats spike everytime they get a hint of your scent up close...” He explains, meeting your eyes again. “And also...” He adds. “They got hard too many times about it.” He says, chuckling softly by the end of it. “I don't think my master noticed anyway. Wonder if they'll be able to keep their hands off you until we're gone, though.” He continues, looking at you with a smirk on his face. “I wouldn't be able to keep them off my master if she'd allowed me to touch her like that.” He says, chuckling again. “Chan...” You call him, not knowing very well what to say, then Jisung's howl makes you both look outside instead. “Guess I'll better go. Don't feel like being dragged by my neck tonight.” He says, pointing outside with his head. “W-Wait...” You call him, and he looks at you for a second before he speaks again. “Ah... Don't worry. I won't tell her. I wouldn't want to ruin the fun for someone else.” He says, soothing you a little, but you can only blush as he walks away.

What did he mean with ruining someone else's fun? Does that mean that you friend would be indeed against it? She seems to care about Channie so much though. She's always telling you about him at work too. How could someone who cares so deeply for her hybrid be one of those people who hurt them too?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a while now since they went hunting, and you and your friend decided to drink a bit. You, cause you really needed it after that conversation with Chan, and she... Well, cause she secretly and desperately needed it aswell.

“Ah, Hyunjinnie is so cute, Jisungie too.” She says. “But my Channie is the cutest.” She tells you, making you chuckle softly. “God, I love him so much.” She says. “Can't believe I was lucky enough to run into him in this lifetime.” She continues her little monologue, and you just listen, still thinking about your last conversation with Chan. “Y/n... Can I tell you something?” She asks, she really sounds drunk by now. “You can't tell anyone though.” She says, and your throat dries thinking about what she might want to confess. “Of course, I won't tell anyone.” You tell her, but she seems like she's thinking about it twice. “Hey, I promise.” You asure her and she sighs. “Alright... I...” She starts, taking a quick peek to the windows to make sure you're still alone. “I know a lot of people still don't like hybrids living out of the woods but... Since you live with two of them...” She says. You don't want to rush her but god, what is she going to say? Is it going to be hurtful or is she going to tell you something completely wholesome? “Yes?” You say, trying to keep her going. “I...” “Hey, I'm back.” Hyunjin interrumps opening the door, startling you both. “Noooo!” You dramatically say, startling him in return. He seems so confused. “Ah, excuse us a minute.” You say, taking Hyunjin out with you to a place your friend can't see from inside.

“Did I do somehing wrong?” He asks, pouting, and your heart hurts. “No, of course not, baby.” You soothe him. “We were just talking about something and she doesn't want anyone to hear.” You explain. “I'm sorry baby, can you stay away for a bit longer?” You ask stroking his hair, and he sighs but nods. “Thank you, it won't be long, I promise.” You say, tiptoeing a bit to peck his lips. “Are they around?” You ask and he shakes his head. “I can smell them, but they're far away.” He says, and you smile and pet him again. “Okay baby, then I'll text you in a bit so you can come back, yeah?” You say, checking that the phone hanging from his neck has still battery left, and he nods. “Is it really okay?” You insist and he chuckles before leaning over you. “Yes~ cause master will compensate me later, right?” He asks. You stare at him for a moment trying to figure out if he's being sweet or just naughty, but he doesn't look like he's teasing. “Sure.” You say, making him happily smile before he meets your lips.

“Where's Hyunjinnie? He is reaaally handsome by the way. I didn't say it before but I'm too drunk now.” Your friend babbles as soon as you're back, making you laugh. “Yes, he is.” You chuckle. “And he went to see if he could find Jisungie and Chan.” You lie, and she gasp. “No, they can't be back just yet.” She says, and you take a look to her cup. “Did you drink all of that while I was away?” You ask, and she nods. “I needed it.” She says, making you chuckle again. “Okay, girl. Can you tell me what's going on?” You ask, taking the chance to make yourself another drink and she sighs and just let it out. “I'm in love with Channie.” She says, and your eyes shift to her immediately. Your hands frozen, still holding onto the bottle.

“You are?” You simply ask in a serious tone, and she nods. “You think I'm weird?” She asks. “No, of course not. A lot of people date hybrids.” You say, as you finally pour the drink on your cup. “And actually... I'm dating mine too.” You admit and she gasps. “Which one?” She asks, making you blush. “Ah.... Both of them..?” You say, and she gasps even more dramatically, making you laugh. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier.” You apologize. “You know another bunch of people are still afraid of magic creatures. Even if they've been around since forever.” You say and she frantically nods as tears form in her eyes.

Ah she's cute. No wonder Channie fell for her too.

“Yes, I know.” She pouts. “I'm so happy I got to tell you. I was so afraid of saying it outloud cause I don't want anyone to hurt Channie. I'm always keeping my distances with him as much as I can because I'm so scared.” She says, hugging you. Maybe that's why Chan thought telling his master would be a bad thing.

You chuckle just relieved that you have someone to relate to. “Mhm~ Me too.” You agree. “Don't tell Channie or your babies though, I think I'll just talk to him when we're back home.” She says. “Of course.” You say, and she pouts again. “Do you think he'll feel weird about it?” She asks, and you can't help but laughing as Chan's words come back to your mind. “No, love. I think he'll be very happy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How did hunting go?” You ask Jinnie as soon as he comes back after you texted him, and he sighs. “Fine, I'm tired though. I should probably take a shower too.” He says. “Yeah?” You ask, cupping his face on your hands before making him lean over to kiss him. “Y/n...” He says, pointing at your friend with his eyes. “It's okay, she's really drunk.” You chuckle. “Also, I told her.” You whisper at him and he lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness.” He says, picking you up to kiss you again. “Let's go wash up then.” He says, and you smile softly. “Shouldn't we wait for Jisung first?” You ask and he rolls his eyes. “What if...” He pecks your lips. “We shower now.” Another peck. “Then I fuck you real good.” He says, making your heart skip a beat before he meets your lips again. “And so we'll have to shower again~. I don't mind sharing you then.” He finishes, making you giggle. “That's your plan?” You ask, and he smiles. “That's my perfect plan, yeah.” He says, pecking your cheek. “Wow, seamless.” You chuckle. “Would you help me out getting her to bed first, though?” You ask, pointing at your sleepy friend, and he smiles softly. “Sure.”

You hear some howls as Hyunjin helps you place your friend in bed. “Channie...” She calls in her sleep, making you chuckle, and you look up to meet Jinnies eyes, but he's looking to where the howling came from. His ears twitching. “Jinnie... You think they're okay?” You ask him, but he's still focused on listening to them right now. “I think that was Jisung...” You tell him, pulling from his shirt and he finally responds. “Mhm.” He says, avoiding your eyes as he distractedly takes your friend's phone from her hands to put it on the nightstand.

You don't know what's going on with those howls, but you sure hope Jisung is okay. Jinnie would tell you though if that wasn't the case, so he must be worried about something else. You can't help but worrying about Jisung anyway.

“Are you okay?” You ask Jinnie, cupping his face on your hands, and he nods before you peck his lips. You know he won't tell you what's going on with him if he doesn't want to when he's like this, so you just let it slide for now. “Let's wash up then, yeah?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You always look so cute whenever you let me wash you.” You tell him as you squeeze some water over his head with a sponge. His fluffy ears falling down a bit as the water runs down his hair, but his eyes are on your naked body in front of him. You softly wash his face and he meets your eyes while you're at it. “Can I wash you too?” He asks and you chuckle but nod. “Mhm, why not?” You answer and his tails wiggle as good as they can while soaking wet.

You hand him the sponge with some bath gel on it and he takes it, making sure he doesn't skip any spot as he works on you. He makes you turn around after entertaining himself a bit with your tits, and you sit between his legs. “All done.” He says, ditching the sponge before pulling you into a backhug, pecking your cheek from behind.

“Jinnie, I'm sorry about everything that happened with Channie today.” You apologize as he plays with your fingers, and he scoffs. “You don't have to apologize about that.” He says, nuzzling your neck with his nose. “That guy is older than Jisung and I. Judging by his behaviour I'd say he probably has lived with humans too for a longer time.” He says. “Oh, that's why he looks so calm?” You ask, making him chuckle. “He's not as calm as he seems like.” He tells you and you dramatically gasp, turning around to look at him, making him chuckle. “I love that you guys can sense things that I can't. Tell me more.” You ask him, making him chuckle again. “To be honest, it's a miracle that Jisung didn't jump on his neck after he scented you.” He says, and you gasp again. “But Chan said he didn't do it...” You say, making him laugh. “Oh, he did it.” He laughs again. “He just lied about it and we let it slide not to cause further problems.” He says, and your heart hurts thinking of Jisung's face as he realized how nervous you were back then. “It's okay, he understands.” He tells you, making your heart skip a beat. “What the hell?” You playfully hit him. “Can hybrids read minds too or what?” You ask him, making him laugh. “Of course not.” He says as you go back to lean on him. “I don't need to read your mind to know what you're thinking most of the time though.” He says, lacing his fingers with yours. “I'm not always thinking of Jisung.” You pout, and he chuckles softly. “Oh, no, I know. I can tell when you're thirsting over my cock too.” He says, making you blush, but you just scoff. “...Shut up.” You tell him after a short silence, making him giggle.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You remember when you called me a bitch?” You ask him as you both stare at the ceiling in bed, and he blushes but can't help laughing, making you laugh too. “I'm sorry.” He apologizes, covering his face with his hands now. “Oh, you are?” You ask, rolling over your belly to look at him. “You are such a brat to Jisung and I, and then you'll just melt as soon as we touch you.” You say, making him blush even more, and you scoff. “Master...” He calls, shyly looking at you as he keeps hiding behind his hands. “Mhm?” You answer, taking his hands away. His eyes move down and you follow them to his crotch, making you scoff again as his dick twitches. “Am I supossed to do something about that?” You ask, and he bites his lower lip to keep in a smile. “Are you gonna pretend you don't want to?” He ask, raising one of his eyebrows at you by the end of the sentence, and you smirk at him.

“Here.” You say, taking your shirt and panties off and throwing them at him. “Show me.” You tell him and he blushes. You tilt your head as you smile. “Show me what you do when I'm not here.” You command him, leaving him alone in bed, dragging the armchair in the corner of the room closer, so you can watch him while you sit. “I noticed my pillowcase and some of my clothes are missing again.” You tell him, and he gulps down some saliva but he doesn't even try to defend himself.

Your knees up, blocking the view of your body for him. “Just pretend I'm not here.” You tell him, and he hesitates for a moment, but soon he's rolling over your clothes, wallowing in your scent as he gets harder. “Master, you were so wet already...” He says as he sniffs on your underwear, making you secretly blush.

He grabs one of your pillows and lie your shirt over it before he starts humping it. Your panties on his hands so he can keep sniffing on them. Wish you could see his dick but almost his entire body is touching the bed. His eyes meet yours even if you asked him to pretend you weren't there, and he blushes again. “So embarrassing.” He says, shyly looking away, but you know he just got even harder, which makes you innevitable wet for him.

“Master...” He calls between moans. Ah, so desperate burying his face on your panties again. Your heart racing for him. Your throat dry. “Jinnie...” You call him without even thinking about it, and his eyes look up but he keeps thrusting on your bed. “I wanna see.” You tell him, and he whines before he rolls over as the good boy he sometimes is.

His body facing up now. Your shirt on his hand as he jerks himself off. He's covering his face with his free arm as more moans scape his lips. “Master...” He calls again as precum drips down his tip to your shirt. “Ah, Hyunjinnie... So needy.” You tease him. “I can't believe you let Jisung see you like this.” You keep teasing and he purses his lips as he blushes even more if possible. “You look so pretty though...” You praise him. “I bet it made his dick really hard too.” You say, and he closes his eyes, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Fuck...” He moans out, and you watch as he paints his own belly with his seed.

His chest going up and down as he catches up his breath. You chuckle softly and climb back in bed, laying on your tummy to meet his lips. “That was so hot, Jinnie~” You tell him before kissing him again, and he deepens the kiss as he distractedly wipes his cum with your shirt. You laugh at his action but don't nag at him for it. He smiles knowing very well what he just did, and pulls from you so you lie on top of him to keep making out.

His hands soothingly caressing your body as you kiss. His dick getting hard again. You smile on the kiss and sit astride him feeling his erection against your heat. “I almost forgot how big you actually are...” You tell him as you lightly grind on him and he smirks. Then you hear some voices and what it sounds like laughter from downstairs, and your heart skips a beat. “Y/n...” Hyunjin calls you, trying to stop you from going to check. But you just get out of bed and put on one of Hyunjin's shirts. “Don't go like that, wait...” Hyunjin says, but you're already rushing downstairs, so he changes into his animal form to chase you. A bunch of butterflies in your stomach as you recognize Jisung's voice coming from the other side of the door.

You open it to find him and Chan just chatting on the porch, laughing. He's covered in some mud and leaves and he has some scratches, but Chan does too. “Y/n?” He asks, looking at you head to toes kinda confused. “Are you okay?” You ask him. “Yes, yes of course.” He says and you just pout and run to him. He holds you, still a bit confused, and Hyunjin growls, catching his eye. He looks at the fox, who's looking at your naked legs, then he looks at Chan who's casually looking away. “Baby...” Jisung sweetely calls you. “Are you not wearing any underwear?” He asks as his hands feel your body over the tshirt, making you blush. “Ah...” You say, and Hyunjin walks over to block the view to anyone else. “I'm just gonna go.” Chan says.

“Sorry Jinnie, and thank you for covering me.” You thank him, petting his head, but he growls at you. “Y/n...” Jisung says, taking your hand away from the fox, and you look at him a bit confused before you look back at Jinnie. “Hyunjin...” You call him, trying to pet him again, but he just growls, showing his teeth this time. A chill runs down your spine as your heart stops. Then you break into a cold sweat seeing Jisung changing to his wolf form.

His ears pointing forward and his tail up in a threatening stand. Hyunjin's tails and ears down in a scared-defensive one, but the growls keep coming from both parts. Jisung snarls at him, and the fox whimpers, taking some steps back. “Jisung!” You call him, scared for the fate of the fox, and he takes a side glance at you for a second before huffing and going back to his hybrid form.

Hyunjin stands normally again, but he doesn't change to his hybrid form. He looks at you and Jisung, then huffes and walks away to disappear into the woods. ➽───────────────❥

Masterlist

Hybrids!Au Masterlist

Taglist: @a-crazylittlekillerqueen

Chap4.....Chap6

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chiyeko-kurea · 21 days

Text

no tags so only certain people see this

i’ve been lying to you guys and i kinda wanna be honest now

…

I like Taylor Swift

I like hot actors and save edits of them in my phone like Ryan Gosling and Jeffrey Dean Morgan

I love watching Greys Anatomy

I listen to good music, but also basic shit like Lana Del Rey, Mitski and all

I love soft pink and feminine clothing

I love war movies and study the psychology of men but also silly little romances that end up well

I have a collection of plushies, Pusheen are my favorite

I have a silk pillowcase and a pink bathrobe

I love vanilla, it’s my favorite scent and pretty much every product i have (showergel, deodorant, lipbalm, perfume, body lotion, candles…) are scented vanilla

I love wearing pretty bras with lace

I love gold jewelry and I buy some whenever I can and have the money

I collection cute things like cute lamps, bags, notebooks, figurines

I also like crystals because they’re shiny and pretty

I love makeup, buying makeup, doing my makeup, owning makeup

I love reading disgustingly gut-wrenching and twisted books but also silly little romance, very poorly written and basic where men are nice and gentle and say dreamy things.

Basically what I’m trying to say is I��m normal. Who I am whole is the me that is weird and disgusting, but it’s not who I am to others and there are others aspects of me.

And yea i cvt, i burn and put shreds of glass everywhere so i walk on it and it stays into my skin and i let myself have infections and i deprive myself of sleep and unconsciously food sometimes and i used to be a heavy consumer of [very bad kind of] videos and i hate myself so much i want to skin myself alive and rip my tendons and veins and strip myself to my bones and bathe in oil and take fire and feel it consume me and burn away my identity as the soil piece of meat my body is turn to ashes and i want to destroy my brain and the neurons and electric impulses defining my personality but that’s not the whole person I am.

I have a pusheen lip balm and next year i’m going to take my med school exam and i’m clever and probably gonna succeed and yes i shred my body but i make people laugh sometimes and i would be missed. I don’t like who i am but i like who [myself] is to some other people. I can’t destroy her. I destroy me, the me only I know, the me that deserves to be destroyed.

I don’t destroy my sister’s sister, my father’s daughter, my mother’s daughter, my cousin’s cousin, my dog’s friend, my friends’ friend.

Who I am to you is myself, the me i destroy, but that’s not just who i am and that’s what i wanted to say.

Hope you’re fine with that

Whatever anyway

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burninlovebutler · 1 year

Text

27 - The First Close Call // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin x fem!oc (elsie) | word count: 3k-ish

warnings: core origin story anchors, alcohol, FLUFF, typical sad undertones, talks of cheating, cringey bedroom concerts, lightly inspired by maroon by taylor swift lol, 18+ MDNI

summary: when elsie wakes up the day after new year’s eve with both austin & nox no where to be found, she sits with the questions racing through her head. an unlikely item transports her to a memory that may hold the answers she seeks.

previous chapter -> 26 - NYE pt. 2 - Say It Again**

see masterlist for chapter log or other works

vibes: forever winter playlist ❄️

We never talk about what's going on We're casual, we're nothing

We're the furthest thing from love Until we drink

We’re just friends Until we drink

-ELSIE-

I stirred awake bringing a curled fist to rub the sleep from my eyes before shooting straight up. Flashes of everything that transpired the night before hit me like bricks, knocking every molecule of oxygen from my lungs. My hands frantically felt around the bed finding it empty, then searching it for any traces of Austin – or Nox for that matter. The rapid thumping growing in my chest threatened to crack my ribs like glow sticks.

My fingertips trembled as they curled around the fluffy duvet, bringing it up to my face. The scent of him filled my nostrils, immediately pooling tears in my eyes. My fists curled into the fabric and pressed against my nose, inhaling every bit of him.

How did we get here?

I threw the comforter off my body leaping from the mattress to inspect the room then quietly peering out the door to find Nox. But the apartment was empty, no Austin, no Nox. Relief momentarily poured into my veins before sending me into a cleaning frenzy. I ripped off every piece of bedding, the fitted sheet, the pillowcases, the duvet – it all smelled of Austin. Of us.

It wasn’t until the washing machine was full and rumbling that I was able to sit with the empty morning. My stiff couch squeaked as I laid back into it. The cold palms of my hands pressed into my tired and hungover eye sockets.

If Nox caught any inkling of suspicion I’d be dead. Just the idea of him finding out sent a chill through my bones.

It didn’t matter how many suspicions I had stacked against him. It didn’t matter the late nights out, the new phone code, the lingering perfume on his clothes.

“Fuck.” I muttered. I wanted to be angry that Nox never came home, at least it seemed like he didn’t. But how could I be angry at him when I did what I did with Austin?

I wanted to be upset with Austin too, for leaving me like I was just some one-night stand. But how was I supposed to be upset with him when he wasn’t my boyfriend, and he had a ‘not-girlfriend’, and Nox could’ve came home at any moment last night.

Holy fuck, are we all just cheating on each other?

One could only imagine that Nox’s absence meant he had also left with someone else. I had suspected it for a while –Sure, I could lie to myself and say he must’ve just crashed at a buddy’s house, but I knew it wasn’t the truth. It was a ruse.

So,

Nox was presumably cheating on me.

And I was cheating on him with my best friend.

And of course, now he was cheating on his new ‘not girlfriend’ with me. Official or not, it was clear something was going on between them. It made me sick.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? I was cheating. No matter how much we masked it, how much we played the ‘no touching’ card, it was all just an excuse for our shitty actions right? Sure, he didn’t put his dick inside me, but we make each other cum – we’ve had each other in our mouths. One way or another it was sex.

Holy shit I’m having sex with Austin

Holy shit I’m fucking my best friend

What kinda fucked up geometric shape were we in and how did it all so complicated. I felt so many emotions at once, my head was so bogged with thoughts and memories of the night before, it was overwhelming. Suffocating.

As much as I really didn’t want to address it, the dread of knowing Austin and I would have to talk about it eventually settled between each rib. I wanted to ignore it, like we had been this whole time. Aside from the obvious uncomfortableness, I mostly just didn’t even know what to say.

‘I don’t want to keep doing what we’re doing’ – that was a lie.

‘I don’t like what we do’ – lie.

‘I want you stop calling me, baby’ – lie.

‘I want to stay with Nox’ - …lie?

‘I want to be with you’ - …lie?

I didn’t fucking want that, why the fuck would I want that? What the fuck did I want?

He’s my best friend, he’s always been just that. My friend. My person.

The person I run to when I’m sad, when I’m angry, when I’m heartbroken, when I need to vent, when I need someone to tell my secrets to. We’d seen each other go through multiple partners, isn’t that weird? We’ve talked about intimate details of our relationships. Though, the exchange of relationship details dwindled the longer we were friends.

Did everything we had done ruin our entire friendship? Last night was way past anything we’ve ever done. How do you go back to normal friendship when I literally fucked myself to him – in front of him? And he did to me…all over me.

And why the fuck did my belly flutter when he called me ‘baby’? God, I could barely even say it in my head. I shouldn’t fucking feel that way about my supposed ‘best friend’ calling me that. I didn’t even feel like that when Nox called me it. Friends don’t call each other baby.

“Oh god,” Curling over my thighs holding my hands over my face. The memory of me literally sobbing beneath him basically begging him to call me that name again. The New Years champagne had really done me in this time.

“Why the fuck would I do that.” I groaned and tugged at my under eyes.

Then the memory of what I told him.

‘Friends don’t do the things we do.’

“I’m so fucking stupid.” I reprimanded myself outloud, smacking my palm hard against my forehead.

How do you come back from that? How was I supposed to face him after that?

Even if I wanted to be with him – which I don’t – everything would change.

I wouldn’t be able to run to him anymore, not like that. I couldn’t share my secrets or just play video games with him. Or anything – all of our friendship traditions would be gone, right? How do you just shift into that different dynamic?

I never pictured us here. What the fuck were we doing? How did we get here? How do we go back? Can we go back? Do I want to go back?

I laid back and let the couch swallow me whole, curling into the corner and wrapping a draped blanket around me like a tight cocoon.

‘How did we get here?

‘How did we get here?’

The question haunted me, ringing over and over in my ear drums. Another equally as daunting sequence of questions swirled –

How, where and when did this start?

How did we get here, without me even realizing until we had crossed some fucked up line?

How long had this been looming in the background?

I brainlessly zoned out looking into my kitchen across from me when I spotted a half-drank bottle of rose that I didn’t remember opening or drinking.

The seemingly impertinent glass decanter brought forward a memory I had long forgotten. As the recollection unfolded in my memory, the details began to piece together a puzzle that perhaps held the answers I was looking for.

-5 years ago (Sophomore year)-

We sat on the floor of his dorm, my legs across Austin’s thigh with my feet in his lap. Our fit of laughter died down as the annual end-of-winter-break New Years party raged on downstairs of the giant fraternity mansion. The same house where we’d met just a year ago, and a year before all the shit hit the fan after his dad. Things were simple then, fun and innocent.

“I still think it’s funny that you’re in a frat.” I giggled, taking a swig of a bottle of Rosé that we stole.

The blonde rolled his eyes, “You know it’s just for my parents.” He snatched the chilled bottle from my hand, “Plus I get to live here, which is better than the dorms.” His lips curled into a cocky smirk before taking a sip. He dragged his sweater sleeve across his mouth to wipe off the excess wine and handed it back to me, “I am happy that we’re moving in together soon, I can’t wait to get out of here.”

My top teeth reflexively tugged my bottom lip in, for some reason wanting to hide the wide smile that begged to be worn, like a cozy cardigan on a cold winter day. But I swallowed it down with another chug. “Yeah, me too.” I hiccupped and set the glass bottle down.

In the year we’d grown to be friends I watched him blossom out of his shell. He says that it was me who made him bloom, but I don’t think I had anything to do with it. I think he was just waiting for someone or something to give him the chance to. Regardless, that shy boy I met just a year ago wasn’t the same one that sat across from me – at least not fully.

I watched him bring the glass bottle to his eyeline, reading the label for god knows why. But in the dim light of the desk lamp lit room… it was like I was seeing him through a new, different lens. The way his blonde hair curled at the edges, long straight lashes around crystal blue eyes, just how pink and plump his lips were. It had to be the alcohol, right?

“Hey Elsie,” He waved his hand in front of me, “Whatcha lookin at?” He laughed, “You checkin’ me out or something?” It was a joke, but it settled nervous swirl in my tummy.

I tried to mask the nerves in my chuckle with a light smack to his arm, “Yeah, you wish.” Rolling my eyes at him. I felt this daunting urge to remove myself from the situation, I needed to get my legs off of him, away from him. I never ever felt that way around him, he was normally a comfort to me, he would calm me down before an exam or watch movies with me when I was sad. But this… this wasn’t comfortable. I was uneasy, he made me uneasy.

I pushed a stray curl out of my face, letting out a breath before hastily pulling myself up from the carpeted floor. He took notice of my speedy escape as soon as I was on my feet, propping himself up on his elbows behind him. “Where are you goooooiiinnng?” He whined.

“I just wanted to um-“ I scanned around the room for any inspiration of a distraction landing on his record player. “I wanted to play music!” I perked walking over to the wooden box that held his vinyls.

“Why? The music from the party is so loud already.” He questioned, propping up a brow at me but I kept my back to him. Blood rushed into my cheeks and I couldn’t let him see it. The alcohol definitely was not helping the redness. For whatever reason, I grew aware of the missing makeup on my face. I never felt the need to wear it around him before, but now it felt like I was naked.

“Well, uh, yeah, that shit is so overrated.” I faux scoffed while thumbing through his record collection looking for a good one. I let out an involuntary gasp when I found an Elvis vinyl, plucking it instantly from the box and holding it close to my chest with my arms wrapped around it. “Elvis!” I exclaimed excitedly turning to him like a little kid that found a new toy at the store.

He raised his brows surprised at me then let out a laugh saturated in alcohol, “You like Elvis?” He questioned.

“Eeep!” I squealed, “Yes I love Elvis!” Nearly jumping from excitement like a 2012 One Direction fangirl.

“Wow I never pegged you as an Elvis fan, all you do is listen to Lana Del Rey.” He teased, knowing full well that wasn’t true.

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes, “No no you don’t understand, I love Elvis.”

A sincere smile curled the edge of his lips, “Wow I just really didn’t know-“

I leaned down to grab his shoulders looking him dead in the eyes, “No, you don’t understand. I watched his ’68 Comeback Special like 500 times.”

He laughed hard and put up his arms in defense, “Okay okay, I believe you.”

I squeaked going back to his player and gently pulled the vinyl from the sleeve, precariously placing it down and settling the needle on the outer edge of the black disc. I nearly screamed when one of my favorites began to pour from the small speakers, promptly turning the volume to its max. With a spin on my heels, I snatched the rose bottle from the neck taking a long swig, proceeding to dance across his floor. Every inkling of tension in my body disappeared, the music soothing the nerves with each hip swing.

I could feel his eyes on me but in that moment, I didn’t care if he was judging me, the only thing I cared about was staying on rhythm. He sneered, “You’re so ridiculous!” He teased.

My arms followed the dance moves I’d seen Elvis do in his old recorded concerts, spilling some wine on my burgundy t-shirt as I did so. I’d probably regret this debacle later, but I was having too much fun to stop. The spill abrupted my choreography causing me to stumble back and let out a tiny hiccup.

“Oh my god Elsie,” He shook his head with a chuckle, going to pull himself off the floor but was struggling with the wine in his veins just as much as I was. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Once solid on his feet he stretched to grasp my shoulders, but I spun just out of his reach. I suppose my next attempt at eluding him was to start belting out the lyrics, the dancing alone just wasn’t cutting it. “Here we go again… askin’ where I been!” I sang loudly and off tune.

Austin shook his head and as our impromptu concerts always went, he joined in, finally getting with the program and managed to steal the rose bottle back. I snagged a nearby hairbrush to replace the bottle as my microphone in preparation for the chorus. And as if we were on some stage somewhere, we turned to each other dramatically, ready to put on a show of a lifetime.

“We can’t go on together, with suspicious minds!” Singing in harmony into our respective makeshift microphones, “And we can’t build our dreams on suspicious miiiiiinds!”

Austin took over the vocals while I recreated one of Elvis’ famous ‘taking a knee’ moves and for a split second I swore I was 15 again, performing alone in my room. But I was 21 and in college and in my best friend’s fraternity dorm.

I got excited when I heard him finish off the line, “Oh honey, you know I’ve never lied to you…” And knew I had to get into position for another iconic line. Again, we were facing each other in our drunken duet, “We’re caught in a trap, I can’t walk out!”

Whether it was the alcohol, Elvis, or something I didn’t fucking know but I swore there was a slo-mo switch that flipped on as our eyes met. “…because I love you too much baby.” We sang softly in unison, our voices hushed under the blaring music, and he was closer than I realized. His sapphire eyes flickered to my lips and every ounce of air left my lungs. He dropped the empty glass bottle hitting the cushioned carpet with a thud and unexpectedly took hold of my hips pulling me to him.

‘Why can’t you see, what you’re doin’ to me…’ Elvis continued to sing in the background. Every part of him that touched me scorched like fire - his fingers on my hips, his chest pressed against mine. The insatiable burning spread throughout my body like a raging forest fire, every inch of skin, every muscle, every blood vessel, every single cell in my anatomy was totally and utterly consumed by him. The crystal ocean in his eyes, each individual blonde lash, the disheveled waves slashed across his forehead, the constellation of freckles I didn’t notice until then, the deep berry in his lips. The lips that were not even a centimeter from mine, just a hair from touching. I thought they’d land, I didn’t comprehend it at the time but god, I hoped they’d land. I was praying for them to land.

In that moment I realized that 15-year-old-alone-in-my room-comfort feeling wasn’t new, rather something that had been present for the past year. Anytime I was with him, anytime he entered the room, or his name was mentioned. He was comfort, he was safety. A true north I didn’t know I found.

Regular speed clicked back on, and we immediately retracted from each other like nothing had happened, like it was just part of the performance. The flurries of butterflies he left me with stayed though - I’m not entirely sure they ever left.

The next morning when I woke up on his floor, he didn’t bring it up and neither did I. Relief never felt so good, it was just some freak drunk accident, a close call. That all, just a close call. I didn’t know what I’d do without him, what something like that would do to us… I didn’t even want to think about it.

I eyed him looking over the menu at our favorite breakfast diner, Harry’s, pretending he was going to order something new, when we both knew it was gonna be chocolate chip pancakes.

“So, whatcha gonna get?” His eyes snapped up at me, the noon sun shining making his blues glimmer, even above his dark eye bags.

“Oh uh-“ I shook the haze from my head, “I don’t know if I’m gonna get anything, I’m uh, I’m pretty hungover.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” He just beamed at me with a optimistic smile that made me feel like everything would be okay, “Pancakes will fix it.”

And then there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach I didn’t recognize. At first I thought maybe I was hungover. It was a flutter, a churning, a nausea – a sinking trepidation, like I just signed a bad business deal, a contract that would cost me millions.

I didn’t know what fucked up clause we just implemented, but some dull ache in my bones whispered that it would cost me more than I could afford.

Next Chapter -> Temporary Fix* [coming soon]

Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗

Tag list: @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @feverdreamcaoilainn @coloradohighs @iluvnerds69 @denised916 @julie181 @navsblog @centaine @golden-kiwis @michellelv @suspiciouselvis @presleysdarling @eddiesgorlie @unicornelliesparkles @navsblog @ranaissingle

(if you'd like to be added pls comment 💗)

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csolarstormhealthjournal · 8 months

Text

I should have gotten OCD treatment in 1999. But I didn't, because I didn't ask for help, and otherwise my parents weren't looking. I had a reputation for being "overdramatic". Trying to medicalize everything. I asked for a psychiatrist when I was really little because I was scared of spiders. In retrospect, that's pretty familiar to how other people with OCD on /ocd Reddit can be.

My parents didn't really believe in therapy, and got caught up in the "antidepressants are turning everyone into zombies" movement, which is ironic since one of them depended on a therapist their whole teenage life.

I'm talking about this because whenever I'm really dealing with disassociation from triggers, I go back and I add a little bit to this study "timeline" where I use memories of shows I watched and connect them to memories I had of the ocd to see if I can sort of chart the trajectory of it. This has been really rewarding, and helped me reach a sort of clarity about what happened.

First I researched Digimon premieres, and then mapped that compared to when my parents took me out of homeschooling. From this, I gathered I left in 1999, right before the show started. As the show went on, it's pretty obvious Digimon fueled my religious OCD and gave me some vocabulary for my invasive thoughts. I mean, they literally fought the devil. And then nine other variations of other devils. I learned about Revelations from Digimon.

This is not to say Digimon "caused" it. Religion is just an outlet. Being lonely and full of anxiety is what caused it. But also maybe it's good for kids to have cartoons that aren't thinly veiled Christian power ballads? I'm kinda envious that I didn't have Steven Universe and the Owl House when I was a kid.

The other day though I tried mapping another series onto the timeline: Animorphs, because that's something I was reading at the same time my OCD started. That was the first book series I really got into, and I loved it. However, if you're familiar with it, it is a very intense series about war, trauma, and also paranoia fuel. The alien invaders in the series are Yeerks - a race of slugs that can crawl into people's ears and control them unbeknownst to everyone else. It turns out, people with OCD are pretty sensitive to a concept like slugs crawling in your ear and taking control of your body. Shocking, right? So I searched "Animorphs OCD" and I found this.

This guy actually WAS diagnosed with OCD in 1999. And to my discomfort...he did a lot of the same stuff I did. You know, like closing his earlobe when he sleeps...exactly like I did...do...did.

He slept without a blanket so it would be easier to escape if there was a fire. Rather than sleep without a blanket, I always parked my wheelchair in just the right way, every night, to make sure my parents could reach me if there was a fire and they had to carry me out of the house. I kept pencils away from my nightstand in case I'd accidentally stab myself in my sleep. I didn't wear necklaces to bed, oh no, strangulation risk. And of course, I checked for spiders every night, including in my pillowcase. I warned them that I was scared of spiders!

(Thankfully I'm better with them now. At least during the day, then I can appreciate their beauty. At night...that's an issue.)

They never put two and two together, and if they did, I'm not even sure what would have happened. I might have purposefully convinced them I was okay. I was too embarrassed about what I was experiencing to ask for help, and when I did, I was too vague about it for them to push further, and they were very hands-off parents about that kind of stuff anyway. Wanted me to develop on my own and so on.

So um, if anyone's reading this and has OCD but you don't think it's worth a diagnosis or you're too embarrassed to tell someone...I mean, do that, please. If you wait it can get more complex and harder to treat - not in every case though, but don't risk it. I mostly got past my religious ocd and now I have a more science themed variant of the same ideas, just using psychology and fiction to make me feel threatened about tricks trying to control me. And that's harder, more unique than what I had originally. So try and see a therapist sooner than later. Or if you're not up for that, just try a forum. Something. Thanks.

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seollenda · 2 years

Text

indulge you, indulge her (omega!reader x alpha!nayeon)

[apologies for the awkward screenshots of requests as i take the last few asks from my old inbox LOL]

CW: g!p abo smut, kinda fluffy tbh

word count: ~1700

it was hard to say who exactly had clearly neglected their suppressants that day.

crowded end of award show stages were already a bit overwhelming, but to be hit by the pheromones of some nearby alpha clearly approaching rut? you’d calculated that you would make it to your unsuppressed heat after awards activities. yet whoever had neglected to manage their own cycle threw out your careful planning in an instant.

you gritted your teeth on the drive back to the dorm, not daring to take off your sweats even as you felt the inevitable heating of your skin. nobody in the van seemed to have noticed yet. traffic made the commute unbearably long.

the first thing you did upon arriving home was rush into the bedroom to peel off your clothes. the cold air made you sigh, sending a full body shiver through you as you flopped onto your bed.

“y/n, we’re gonna order takeout, did you—whoa.”

chaeyoung had barely stepped into your shared bedroom when she froze at what was likely a brick wall of your heat scent. the other omega raised her eyebrows.

“you were so sure it wouldn’t be for another few days.”

“an alpha on that stage was not being very considerate,” you muttered sourly. your roommate giggled. “would you shut the door? don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of the entire dorm.”

chaeng did so, but looked at you quizzically.

“you want me to ask an alpha? i know you were nervous about it but…” she trailed off, picking her words carefully. “i think there’s few people who you’d be able to trust better than our members. only if you want to, of course. i’ll keep them out if you want.”

you pulled a pillow over your face, groaning.

“maybe.”

“is that yes or no?”

“sure. sure, why not.” you sighed. “even just to scent something for me...”

chaeng nodded, stepping out of the room. “gotcha.”

you lay there in your underwear, the cool satin of your pillowcase providing minor relief against your face. your mind wandered to places that you’d previously worked so hard to stay away from. who would chaeyoung send, anyway?

“hey, y/n?”

nayeon’s voice was soft and clear in the quiet of your room. your heartbeat immediately picked up.

“hi, unnie.” you found yourself suddenly shy. you could hear the eldest member shut the door and approach slowly, as if to not scare you away.

the bed dipped as she perched on the edge. a moment passed until you finally relented and uncovered your face. you opened your eyes to regard your visitor.

she was pretty.

well, im nayeon had always been pretty. but something about her was heightened to you now, an inevitable attraction, maybe biological after all. the alpha was warm and vital and smelled so good. like musk and dark, thorny flowers.

her cheeks blushed now, probably with the extra onslaught of heat pheromones that released with the lifted pillow. you felt an additional jolt in your daze with the realization that she wanted you too.

but now she sat at a responsible distance, smiling gently, a sweet unnie for the moment.

“our y/n,” she murmured, patting your leg in a touch that sent reverberations through your bones. “can we make you comfortable?”

“yes,” you said without thinking. her toothy grin came across her face, crinkling her eyes into her mischievous smile.

—

had you ever imagined what nayeon’s lips would feel like on yours?

well, they were about as soft as they’d always looked. and damn good at kissing.

maybe it was because you were on the front end of your heat, when your pheromones called more for nesting and security than the reproductive demands that later days would, but the alpha was surprisingly tender and sweet to you. she showered your flushed face with soft pecks, nosing your neck and inhaling your scent indulgently. despite your temperature, the sensation of her warm body was magnetic. you tugged lightly on her sweater until she pulled it over her head, giggling softly.

“you’re adorable,” she murmured affectionately, laughing again at your indignant hmph.

“i ask you for help at my vulnerable moment and you laugh at me…” you trailed off your grousing as she pressed kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck. when she met the edge of your bralette you let out a fluttering sigh, carding your fingers through her hair and gently urging her further.

she obliged, pushing the band up so she could toy with a nipple between her lips. she reached up to hold the side of your face, hearing you whimper at her tongue against your skin.

“unnie will take good care of you,” nayeon murmured against your skin, trailing her hand down to play with your unattended breast. every touch was like a flame dancing across your body, whatever reservations you’d harbored evaporating with each sigh she drew out of you.

she trailed kisses down your abdomen, pulling your underwear away from you with little difficulty. she lowered herself down between your legs, practically purring as she tasted you for the first time. the broad of her tongue dragging just barely against you made you gasp.

“you taste so good,” nayeon said indulgently, punctuating her statement with a deeper lap at you now. she pressed her tongue inside you, then dragged upward, catching your clit directly and causing a high whimper out of you.

“unnie…”

she responded with more attention to your cunt, pressing deeper until you longed for something more than her tongue. when she turned to sucking on your clit directly, you properly moaned. nayeon hummed appreciatively against you.

“unnie,” you whispered again, trying to get her attention. you opened your eyes as she lifted her head. a mixture of saliva and your own slick shone on her lips and face. there was unconcealed want in her darkened eyes, a lust that was likely reflected in your own. her breathing was heavier than her exertion could justify, her tongue subconsciously darting to taste you on her lips.

“i need you. please.”

nayeon was beautiful undressed. she was rarely shy, but now standing before you like this she suddenly seemed a bit nervous. despite the growing need between your own legs, you admired her beauty alone first, the silhouette of her shoulders and chest backlit by your dimmed bedroom lights.

you reached for her until she climbed back into bed on top of you. her alphahood was hard against your thigh, but she only pressed a long, deep kiss on your lips.

“i’ve wanted to do this for you for a while,” she confessed softly, breaking the kiss. you looped your forearms over her neck, playing lightly with her disheveled hair. her expression was wide eyed and earnest, and absolutely infatuated.

vague alarms rang in a more sensible mind of yours, but you couldn’t make yourself care. wasn’t part of the needs of an omega the affection of a proper mating? this was just to be expected of such an arrangement.

“fuck me, nayeon-ah,” you whispered. she broke into the softest smile, dipping her cheek against yours shyly as she maneuvered herself against you and finally, gently pressed inside.

she wasn’t your first, but it had been a long time since you had a real alpha inside of you. she was hard, stretching you around her until she was flush against you. your pussy fluttered and settled until she felt like the most natural presence, a gentle warm fullness that quieted your desperate hunger for a moment.

she stayed inside you like this for a moment, letting you get your bearings, nuzzling below your ear until your scents mingled like the most lush perfume. when you finally began to grind your hips, she took the hint, starting to move so you could still yourself again.

her rhythm was gentle but steady, until her breaths aligned with yours. it felt like everything was subsumed into one synchronous breath together, in and out and in again.

“faster,” you whimpered. the bite of your heat was slowly setting in around the edges, setting new restlessness in your veins, demanding more.

your alpha delivered, her hands pulling your hips even closer against you as she sped her pace. she was deeper now, the head of her cock dragging deliciously against your inner walls with each thrust.

“oh...” she sighed your name, the shameless sound of your wetness and bodies meeting loud in the small bedroom.

you throbbed now, the gradual climax she had developed in you lifting into a peak that only reached higher and higher. nayeon seemed to be approaching hers as well, her speed faster and harder. the hint of an alpha possessiveness began to show now, her moans low and her rhythm more unforgiving. she chased her release as much as yours.

“nayeon-ah—“ you gasped, hands on her back as she leaned forward to press that much deeper inside. she cursed, overtaken and lost in you for this moment, pushing her knot inside you with a final thrust that had you crying out in surprise and brief pain.

the sensation of her emptying into you was what pushed you over the brink. you whimpered her name, for a moment your climaxes meeting each other in an evolved tandem. you came until she had given you all of her herself, until you felt sated for the first time in months.

she lay on you, both of you breathless and lost in the sensation of a proper junction between an alpha and her omega.

nayeon was the first to speak after a moment.

“i shouldn’t have knotted you, i’m sorry.”

“no, i needed it,” you answered quickly, emphasizing your point by pressing her closer against you. the consequences were manageable, and you didn’t want to think about them for the time being. she hummed in satisfaction, scenting you again, brazen, carelessly.

im nayeon had never been shy about taking what was hers. why would you be any different?

#twice imagines #twice smut #twice omegaverse #nayeon imagines #nayeon #twice #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #submission

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revenant-dumpster-fire · 3 years

Text

Flower (Revenant x Reader)

[For AO3 archive, click here.]

Theme: Loneliness and depression are a painful but wicked combination after you have to talk about your past when you don’t want to. No matter how optimistic your friends might be, it doesn’t really fix anything.

Warnings: Graphic content, references to sex, references to past assault, references to noncon, male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, depression, mania, fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: What the fuck is a plot?

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You wake up to the sun fully over the skylight window, shining brightly into your eyes. You groan as you realize what time it must be. Closing your eyes only reminds you how thin your eyelids are, as the only color you see is a fleshy red rather than the lovely darkness you wish you could experience. You pull your arm over your eyes and experience the darkness again, if only for a few precious moments.

As you come to, you remember what you did last night and feel a weird sense of concern overcome you. That wasn't a dream, was it? You are lying here without clothes on, after all, and you don't exactly feel clean either. It definitely happened. You panic a little and jolt up in bed, holding the blanket to cover you as you scan the room. You're alone, and there's no sign of where Revenant could be.

You review the events of yesterday to yourself. You remember Revenant taking apart his old chassis and saving some of the parts from it. You remember teasing him until he tied you to a chair using his scarf, although you remember kinda deserving that. You snicker to yourself, remembering how he called you a "bully" to Sherry. Yes, you definitely bullied the giant, metal simulacrum built to kill. You remember Revenant left you pizza that was good enough that a blatant murder couldn't distract people from it, and then you remember chasing it down with too much vodka. You remember Revenant covered in blood at some point after that, then Pathfinder showing up, then falling asleep alone...? That last bit doesn't make much sense, but there was probably a decent reason for all those things happening together. Then you remember waking up in the middle of the night and definitely remember Revenant gently loving on you to the fullest extent.

You've never actually thought you'd be open to sex at all. Especially considering all you've been through, it's amazing you trusted Revenant enough to let him do that to you. You take a deep breath to yourself. It's too easy to be anxious about experiences like this, especially when they tread such a close line to your past traumas. In reality, you don't regret anything, you've just surprised yourself. The main concern now is why would Revenant run off immediately after a night like that?

Maybe you'll feel better after a shower and cleaning stuff up a bit. After all, you've learned that dwelling on discomfort only leads to more confusion and generally a breakdown. That's the last thing you need right now. No need to ruin something that should be a positive experience with an anxiety-riddled spiral into depression. Imagine losing your mind all because Revenant had some errand to run today. That would be silly.

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, finding some used towels hanging to dry. You're not sure if they're the ones you used or the ones he used, but it doesn't really matter. He's made of metals, plastics, silicones, and PVCs. It's not like his towels are going to have anything gross on them. You grab the closest one and quickly change your mind when you notice the red streaks across it. That's blood, and it's not like it could possibly be his. You throw it to the corner of the tile floor to remind yourself to wash it later. The other towel must have been yours, because there's no blood on it and it's considerably drier than the other.

You turn the shower knobs and wait patiently for the water to warm up, taking a moment to brush your teeth while you wait. Ever since he went on a long tangent about shaving, you can't help but eye his razor case when you see it. You wouldn't dare touch it since you know how much it means to him, but you'd like to see it at some point. The steam starts to fog up the mirror, so you quickly finish with your teeth and jump in the shower. You rapidly clean yourself with as much soap as you can manage to lather into your hair and skin.

You nab the clean towel and dry yourself off, spending an excessive amount of time trying to dry your hair as much as possible. You made the right call, a hot shower helps a lot with anxiety. You leave the bathroom and rummage through your bag for the most comfortable pair of shorts and shirt you own. You notice you're a bit shaky and sore from the night before, but it's nothing you can't handle. As soon as you're dressed and your hair is brushed enough to be detangled, you consider yourself put together enough. Nothing wrong with a lax day for laundry and lounging about.

You grab the towels from the bathroom; the sheets, blanket, and pillowcases off the bed; your clothes you found in the corner of the room; a bloody old towel from the kitchenette; and a small pile of your dirty clothing from the past couple days and wrap them together in the comforter, dragging the giant makeshift bag of dirty laundry down the quiet hall into the laundry room. It seems like the trios match was as violent throughout as the ending was--there is not a soul in the hallway, meaning the infirmary must still be quite full. The only Legends you know are back from the match are the winners--Revenant, Wattson, and Wraith--as well as Pathfinder. That makes sense, after all Pathfinder just needs some repairs to be good as new since he's a MRVN, which can be performed hours after any match.

The laundry room has only one dryer running, echoing a mundane hum in the large room with the uncanny beat of the contents turning over repeatedly. You find a few washing machines in the far corner of the room and start separating the delicate items from the colors from the bleach-worthy whites. Thankfully, all the blood-soaked towels were once white, so they get a washing machine all their own along with the sheets. You pull the detergents and bleach out of the cabinet and start over-soaping all the loads, setting the timers to start each machine as they fill with hot water. Steam starts pouring into the room: commercial-quality washing machines are able to use tons of near-boiling water to sanitize anything inside of them. The room's vent fans kick in to try to keep the room's humidity low, but the fans will definitely struggle to keep up.

The door to the laundry room opens and Sherry shuffles in, bags under her eyes and likely hungover from a night of celebrating Wattson's victory. She's too foggy to notice you, so you shuffle over to her.

"Hey, Sherry! Drink too much last night?" You chime, Sherry weakly holding her head.

"Ugh, yes. And that stupid pizza didn't help. It was so perfectly greasy that I couldn't feel how drunk I was getting." She moans, making her way over to the only running dryer.

"So, this is all Revenant's fault then?"

"Absolutely, you and your stupid metal man always conspire to make me worry or drink myself into a stupor because of good pizza." She manages to put just a little sarcastic tone to her voice, but is clearly struggling through her headache. "So, why aren't you hungover? After what I saw yesterday, I was sure you'd bully Revenant into a drinking contest until he tied you to the ceiling vent."

You chuckle, it sounds almost too wild to be accurate, but you've learned that testing Revenant's limits always leads to the unexpected. Sherry continues, a sudden glint showing in her eye.

"So, since you didn't drink to celebrate, then you obviously must have--"

"Sherry--!" You try to shout over her, knowing exactly where she's going with this.

A devilish look creeps across Sherry's face, almost wiping out her hungover grimace. She dashes away from you and towards the running washing machines, leaving you stunned just long enough that you can never hope to catch her. She throws the lids open of all three, pouring steam into the room and all over her face, but she doesn't wince at all. The hot steam almost seems to invigorate her more.

"Sheets! I fucking knew it!" She laughs maniacally, her face red and moist from shoving her face in the billowing plume of vapor. She slams the lids shut, letting them clang loudly as the agitators begin to whir back to life after being interrupted. "You did it! You finally did it!" She scurries back to you with the energy and erratic movements of a cockroach, finally reaching you to shove her finger against the tip of your nose. Her wicked grin is now in full form, only enhanced by the deep purple hues under her eyes.

"Sherry, it's not that big of a--" You start, trying to be honest but not let her go where she's definitely going.

"Ohohoho, yes it is! This is proof that you can move past your assault! It's huge! It means you're working past your traumas!" Her excitement makes her sound much louder than she actually is. "And it makes me feel so much better about this whole fling you're having, since Revenant was understanding of it all." She twirls away with her arms outstretched, as if to praise some unseen angels.

"Sherry, he doesn't know." You mumble half-heartedly, hoping she might ignore you. She whips her head back in a fury, which must hurt with her hangover.

"You didn't tell him anything?!" Now she's loud. "What were you thinking?! I get that you don't need to tell just anyone, but don't you think you should have told him so he'd know to take it slow?!" She grabs you by your cheeks and pivots your head to meet her eyeline. "What if he did something that caused a breakdown?! He wouldn't have had any clue why, and he wouldn't have been able to help you!"

"Sherry, it's oka--"

"No it isn't! That's not fair to either of you! You can't just let someone go waltzing through a minefield because you're not sure how to tell them that you had some fucked up shit happen to you!" She pulls you into a massive hug, shoving your face into her chest per usual, since it naturally lands there due to your height difference.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to yell at you, but you seriously need to be careful." She softens, sighing as she realizes you're shivering a little. "Look, if you don't know how to tell him, I will do it for you."

"Thanks, but I think I have to do it." You sigh, recognizing she's right. "Honestly though, the only thing I remember is the rag and then waking up in the hospital." You pull away from her, ensuring she can hear you clearly.

"I know you may not think it's a big deal since you can't remember much, but what happened to you is absolutely traumatizing." Sherry wipes away a tear you didn't even feel escape your eyes. "Seriously, if you really like Revenant, you should tell him what you remember and what you know, even if it's hard." Now you feel the emotional hurt, and you hate this. Everything was fine, but now it isn't, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

"I wish I didn't have to. I don't like talking about it. I didn't even do anything wrong, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have to confess it like it's some crime I committed? It's not fair!" Now you start to cry, and Sherry hugs you again, drying your tears with her shirt. She pets your head and hair, trying to comfort you in any way she can.

"Like I said, I'll do it if you need me to." She sighs while holding you tight. You don't intend to pull away until you've calmed yourself anyway. "I guess you don't really have to tell him, but I really think you should..." She trails off, trying to undo any harshness from before. You feel her face bury into your hair as she holds you closer.

You manage to pull yourself together, the despair slowly releasing its hold on you, even if the sense of doom does not. You have no idea how you're going to tell Revenant anything. How do you even start such a conversation? What if he thinks you should have told him before, like Sherry does? Will he feel betrayed? Or will he understand? The knot in your gut stiffens more.

Sherry holds you until you naturally pull away, rubbing your eyes and now looking worse than the hungover woman in front of you. Sherry looks at you with very concerned eyes that betray her wary smile, clearly trying to cheer your spirits despite her honest concerns.

"I'm sure it will be okay. After all, you managed to open up to him already in a way." Sherry sheepishly encourages you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She takes a deep breath, clearly feeling her aches again, but continues to try to bring you back from the brink of despair. "I bet you opened up real nice for him last night, didn't you?" Her teasing is missing its usual edge, but you can't help but appreciate her effort. You chuckle a little at how hard she tries.

"Didn't have to when he can do it for me." You banter back, taking pity on her weakened state.

"Your little rendezvous must have made quite the mess to have to wash the whole bed, huh?" You shouldn't have given her the inch, she fully plans to take a mile.

"Sherry, why must you do this to me?" You ask, rolling your eyes, turning away to help her with her laundry in the dryer. She could use the help, there's no way she feels well.

"Did he pull out? Is that why you needed to wash the whole bed?" She pauses as you actively try to ignore her, pulling her miscellaneous clothing from the dryer and placing it on top of the machine. Sherry doesn't quit. "Wait, if he's mechanical, can he even cu--"

"Sherry! That's gross!" You interrupt her.

"The pursuit of knowledge isn't gross!" Her energy is back now that she's found a foxhole she plans to dig into. "Anyways, you're the one who holds this forbidden knowledge! Now spill it!" She pauses, "Literally, if you must."

"For fuck's sake Sherry, why are you like this?!" You yell at her through a genuine laugh. No matter how gross that statement is, it is also really funny. You feel a little better, but the knot in your stomach remains.

She grabs a shirt out of the clumped up pile and folds it with zero care or grace. It might as well be a glorified knot. She puts it down and grabs for another, not caring at all to fold anything well. You help her fold, but actually do it correctly.

"So? Spill it!" She insists after making a few knotted clothes. You sigh, frustrated but unwilling to fight her.

"Yeah, I guess he had something in him. Probably the same slick stuff those synthetic refills are made of that you can get for prosthetics. Not that I could really tell anyway, it felt like any other liquid would in there." You mumble quietly.

"Heheheheh, gross." She giggles.

You throw the warm pair of pajama pants you're holding square in her face for that one.

• • • •

You're sitting on the bench in the laundry room, a pile of Sherry's properly folded clothes off to the side and Sherry herself snoring against your shoulder. She promised to stay with you while you wait for your laundry to finish, but you're not sure how helpful it is for her to snore in your ear and drool on your shoulder. She didn't manage to stay awake for long after she sat down with you, but this was inevitable with how hungover she is. Sometimes it really is best to sleep it off whenever possible, although you worry about her hydration. You'll wake her up if you really need to move, and then you'll get her a sports drink or something when you do.

At this point you've moved your laundry into a dryer. The commercial grade washing machines are insanely fast, but drying can only work so quickly. You might be here for a bit, whether you like it or not. Properly folding all of Sherry's clothes kept you occupied for a little while, but now all you have left to keep you company are your thoughts and the sounds of Sherry's snores.

You wonder to yourself why you're so worried over talking about your past with Revenant. You've been dismissive of it this whole time, but to be fair he has never pressed you on it either. You've told him you were homeless and used to date one of the other women in the shelter, but you didn't tell him that she eventually found a way out of poverty. You had to break up with her so she could move on. You didn't fully explain that your past relationship was so you could always stick together and watch out for each other. You definitely didn't tell him how you ended up homeless in the first place, and certainly not what happened to you after the breakup. In truth, you don't want to talk about it. You don't like being a victim of circumstance, modern societal failures, and a criminal underbelly that intentionally preys on people like you. Everyone who's unfortunate enough to be born into this cybernetic hellscape has a story or two that could curdle blood, and you're no different. Heck, you're sure Revenant has plenty too.

The fact of the matter is, you're alive and able to tell the tales of your past, which is better than the slew of victims, predators, and petty criminals alike that are missing or buried in shallow graves. It almost feels disrespectful to the slew of dead and abandoned individuals to complain since you've survived and gotten somewhere better. There's no way you can deny that you've won the jackpot by getting to work for the Apex Games, let alone getting hired and getting so close to one of the Legends themselves. Who are you to complain? You know that feeling shame for getting out of your situation isn't how you should feel--after all, everyone should have a right to talk about their past and experiences--but you can't shake the feeling of survivor's guilt that ebbs away at you.

You put your arm around Sherry and rub her opposite shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. She's really the reason you're out of the trenches of modern society at all. She secured you this job which gave you everything you could need, rent free. The tips from the Legends have let you save up money to escape when this opportunity falls through. Even moreso, Sherry didn't drop the offer for the job when you were hospitalized; in fact, she doubled down on making sure you got the position. You have no idea how much harder she had to work to get you here while you recovered for months, and you've always been afraid to ask. You almost don't want to know the debt you owe her, since you'd spend your whole life trying to pay her back. Sherry probably wouldn't want you to do that either; she's just so happy to have someone she can treat like a sister again.

The door to the laundry room opens again, snapping you out of you pondering.

"Skinsuit! There you are! I've been looking for you." Revenant swiftly makes his way over to you. He's holding a plastic bag, clearly with something inside. He towers over you, looking down at you and the drooling sloth latched to your side.

"Oh, sorry, I was just doing laundry." You mumble, caught in his bright, LED eyes.

"Skinsuit." He pauses, likely seeing your blank stare. You take a moment to come out of your adoring trance, shaking your head a little to clear your thoughts.

"Sorry, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk." The knot in your stomach falls deeper and yanks your gut down with it. Those are the worst words in the world, and the catastrophic thoughts in your head immediately start to wind up. Before you can even finish processing your thoughts, Revenant has picked Sherry up and off of you, laying her down on the bench. She doesn't even stir, she just snores louder now that she's lying flat. Revenant grabs your wrist and hoists you to your feet. "Come, now." His voice is so foreboding.

"Wait, the laundry isn't done yet." You pull back, resisting his grasp on you. You don't want to confront whatever he's upset about. It could be anything, and you just don't want to hear whatever words will inevitably hurt you.

Revenant doesn't release your wrist, but he grips it harder, forcing you forward and closer to him.

"I'm not asking." His eyes are terrifying points, the most intense look he can give, and he's staring straight at you. "Come. Now."

He doesn't give you time to even step forward before he starts dragging you. You trip over your feet as you try to regain your balance. He takes you out of the room and down the long hallways.

You panic. What the hell did you do? Does he regret last night? Did you accidentally hurt or insult him? What on earth does he want to talk to you about? Is he going to fire you and treat you like a nobody again? How could you possibly still work here if he cuts ties? You'll be traumatized every time you see him. What the hell did you do?

He drags you into his room. You could throw up you're so stressed. He drags you to the bare mattress and flings you down onto it. You try to fall into a sitting position, but fail and roll onto your back. He's standing over you, the intense look still hardened on his visage. He throws the bag to the side, its contents smacking the side table hard.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" You practically cry, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You hold your hands in front of you instinctively. He's breathing so rapidly, he must be livid. What the hell did you do?

"Skinsuit." His voice isn't angry, his heavy and rapid breathing isn't rage. He's clearly upset, but not enraged at you. He almost sounds sad. "Who tried to kill you?"

You hold your breath, staring at him. Time passes, but you don't know how to answer. Finally, Revenant hunches forward to get closer to you, slipping a claw under your shirt and against your abdomen.

"This isn't a surgical scar. This is a stab wound from a kitchen knife." He sounds calm again, but you're still too locked up to answer him. "I wasn't sure until I saw the other four scars."

His hands glide to another place on your abdomen on the opposite side, then to an area of your lower rib cage, a second under your breast, and one near your clavicle. He brushes each one carefully before pulling you up into a sitting position to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" His face is right in front of you. You didn't realize this is how you were going to have to tell him, let alone that the scars are what he'd latch on to. He sighs, not getting a word out of you yet.

He stands up and sits down next to you on the side of the bed. He's so damn heavy that he creates a pit in the mattress that sucks you towards him. You land against his arm, which wraps around your back and holds you close.

"Don't panic, I just want to know what happened." He states, keeping as monotone as possible. You can sense that he's actually quite upset still, but is likely trying to make sure you don't feel like the target of his ire.

You're still having trouble reigning in all the anxiety, catastrophic thoughts, depressed ideations, and traumatized fear to yourself. If you speak now, nothing is going to make sense and you might start to cry instead. His hold is reassuring, but it's not enough to stop your brain from running on all threads against your will. You feel yourself shaking against his metal frame, trying to come up with an extra bit of bandwidth to talk, but unable to muster any.

You hear him sigh as he notices you struggling. He pulls you further into the gravity sink he's created in the mattress edge and leans into you, intentionally rattling his artificial lung pumps in your ear. He gives you a few minutes to try to gather yourself before he decides to intercede.

He holds your chin and forces you to face him. His LED eyes are bright and much more relaxed than before, and the sight of him calms you down quite a bit. You almost forget what you are even thinking about; only a single, lucid line of thought still runs in your head. Your shuddering stops, and you feel clear enough to speak again. You take a deep breath, and you let yourself speak.

"Right after my ex and I went our separate ways and I met Sherry, I would walk between here and the homeless shelter so I could keep on top of getting this job." You lower your head to look away, so Revenant withdraws his hand from your chin. "I guess some gang was watching me and saw an opening one night. I got grabbed from behind and they put a rag on my face, but when I went to scream I woke up in the ICU instead." You pause. "I don't remember anything, but they told me I had been--"

"You don't have to say it." Revenant interrupts before your voice cracks from the thought. You sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

"I guess they decided to kill me and dump me in a ditch out in the Dust, probably hoping a pack of prowlers would destroy the evidence." Your voice tremolos as you struggle to put together experiences you don't remember. "They nearly succeeded. I almost bled out in the ditch, but a Hammond employee found me on his way home from a late night at the office and got me to a hospital." You feel numb, but your voice betrays you. "They destroyed one of my lungs, managed to slit open my digestive tract in a few places, barely missed both my jugular and subclavian veins at once, and hit me directly in the liver and popped one of my kidneys. I should have died."

You sit there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Revenant respects the silence and waits for you to continue.

"The Hammond employee who found me donated a bunch of their prototyped synthetic organs to replace mine. One of my lungs, one of my kidneys, and my liver are Hammond prototypes of the ones currently on the market. I also have some of their experimental silicone meshes holding together the digestive tract in the multiple places it was sliced open. I don't think I would have recovered without them."

"How are they holding up?" Revenant asks, carefully pushing his hand against your chest on the side with the artificial lung.

"I haven't noticed any problems, not to say that I know what that would feel like." You place your hand over his, gently touching the Hammond Robotics logo etched into the plate on the back of his hand. It has giant gashes in it, as if he's tried to scratch it off at some point. If this is a new chassis, he must have scratched it out very recently.

"So they used you as a guinea pig for their prototypes?" Revenant growls. "Typical."

"I never thought about it like that. It's not like I could afford synthetics anyway, let alone real ones. It felt like a blessing." You run your fingers over each jagged metal scratch on his metal plates carefully. "I would have died if Hammond hadn't donated them."

"Not to scare you, but be careful with the deals you make with those devils." Revenant's hand pushes harder into your chest.

"I didn't make any deals, I wasn't even asked. They just put them in and sewed me up." You mumble, concerned by his apparent disgust for his own manufacturer.

"Of course they didn't even ask. Silly me." His voice is low and dripping with hatred. You start to pull away from him in fear, but he notices and pulls you back gently. He wraps his arms around you completely and his chin rests on your head. You're not going anywhere at this point. "I'm not angry with you. You're a victim in all this." His voice is softer, but it's a ruse. His lungs are labored with rage and you can feel the tension in his body. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"Revenant, are you okay?" You whimper from under his grasp, unsure of yourself. You feel his fingers turn to points and grip you, but carefully angled not to puncture you.

"I have a lot of work to do." His voice is low and hateful again, his words equally as ominous. His voice jumps back to something softer to address you. "Do you remember anything about the men who chloroformed you? Or when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's all really fuzzy." You shake your head a little, in case he can't hear your quiet whisper. He growls, clearly caught up in his thoughts, determined to find a way to narrow down his search. "Does it really matter?" You ask, unsure of what he plans to do.

"Yes, it's important." He huffs for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm going to give you the entrails of every punk who violated you as a gift, and I'm going to pry Hammond's claws off of you before it's too late."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"You used up your pardon, skinsuit. Now, I am the sole judge, jury, and executioner in this case." He sounds so livid, you can't help but shrink under him and hope none of his wrath is aimed in your direction.

The silence falls again, spare for his blood curdling huffs of rage. He slowly calms himself, likely with some kind of plan on what to do.

"Skinsuit, did they kit you when you were at the hospital?"

"Of course, but there's not a universal DNA database of criminals in the Outlands, assuming it was even entered into one at all. As a gang they might have connections. Either way, it didn't amount to anything. Plus, there was a lot of different DNA..." You trail off, shuddering at your own words and trying not to vomit up the pit in your stomach. Revenant grips you tightly in response to your quivering.

"Skinsuit, I need you to listen to me. I will handle this. I don't want you to worry about it anymore." His voice is determined and steadfast.

"I wasn't worried about it before, I just didn't know how I was going to tell you any of this." You manage to get out as you choke back stressful tears. "I was worried you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier."

He locks eyes with you from above, but you avert yours. His LEDs are bright enough that you know he's staring at you, trying to gauge your emotional state. Sure, maybe you are upset by the whole ordeal. Maybe it is why you struggle so much with despair. Maybe it is the event that broke you emotionally. But you don't want to dredge it up any more than you have to. It's hard enough telling him this, why does he need to make it into a mission?

"Your heart rate is spiking." You hear him dryly state. You cower deeper into his frame. "Don't be so nervous, like I said, I'll handle it from here."

Something in your head pops and you feel the unmistakable taste and heat of anger overtake you. Mania shows up for a mere few moments, in an attempt to bring righteous indignation to the fray.

"Handle what?! It's not like you can just undo what happened! What's the point? Just pretend like I didn't say anything!" You pull away from him and stand up, but he holds onto your wrist, only allowing you to get arm's length from him. "You can't just assassinate every problem into oblivion! It doesn't work like that!" You're staring down a simulacrum that has single handedly spilt more blood than in all the people you've met in your lifetime, but for this rage induced moment, you don't care. "Heck, if you really want to erase the problem, kill me! Because then nobody has to deal with it! That's what was supposed to happen! But I just had to get lucky at the worst time imaginable!" Your lungs empty out from yelling.

He reels back in shock, releasing your wrist. You have nowhere to go, so you just hover there, staring him down. In this fleeting moment, you have bested the Revenant. You are in charge, but only for a mere moment in time. The anger peters out and sadness overwhelms you in its place. Tears start flowing before you even start to vocalize your pain. The moment has ended. You hurriedly collapse to your knees on the floor and bury your face in your hands, trying to hide yourself as you cry. You hate it when this happens. Immediately after you get angry enough to snap, you regret everything and collapse into a sobbing mess. Every time. You just openly confessed you wish you had died instead. You asked Revenant to kill you instead. On top of it all, now you're crying on the floor like you didn't just say something heinous to him.

You gasp for air between your desperate attempts to suppress your cries, which leak out as sorrowful whimpers instead. You feel his palm on your head, but you can't bear to look up at him. He gives you a moment, possibly hoping you will collect yourself, but he gives up quickly. He kneels down beside you and you hear the clangs of his scarf straps coming loose. You feel his scarf wrap around your face like a hood, absorbing the wayward tears and helping hide your face. He bunches up the extra scarf around your shoulders and loosely ties the buckled straps to hold it to you. He reaches into the hood and holds your hands that are pressed against your face, intentionally fluttering his fingers around yours to wipe away tears. He withdraws, wraps his arms underneath you, and lifts you in his arms. He doesn't even struggle to lift you, remaining completely unwavering.

You feel him carry you out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the laundry room. You pull his scarf completely over your face, trying to calm your cries to be as quiet as possible. Your labored breathing is the only audible indicator of your tears now. You feel his arms push up against the swinging door to the laundry room before feeling the humidity difference wash over you as he enters. You hear the sound of Sherry still snoring on the bench. Revenant carries you towards the back of the room and gently places you on one of the still-warm dryers. You feel him open the front-loading door on the dryer and pull out the load of laundry, doing the same to the second dryer next to you. As the door clicks shut, you hear Sherry stir and wake up, moaning a little in protest.

"Oh, hey, is she okay?" She sleepily addresses Revenant.

"She needs time." A fairly honest dodge, but not really an answer to her question.

"I guess she told you while I was out, huh?" Sherry sighs, yawning afterwards. Revenant stops moving next to you for a moment.

"You knew?" He doesn't sound mad, simply intrigued.

"Of course, I lied and told them I was her biological sister so I could get into the hospital and stay with her." Sherry sounds sad, reflecting on it. "I had no idea she walked alone between here and the shelter. Had I known, I would have called a cab or just done the interviews over the phone..." She trails off, regaining her composure. "After that, I fudged everything to get her this job so she could escape that life."

"Do you remember any details of that night?" Revenant asks with piqued intrigue.

"Of course, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to." You rarely hear Sherry sound so deep in self-shame. You wish she would accept that it wasn't her fault, but you also know that's easier said than done.

"I'll speak to you about it later, then." You jump a little as his hand caresses your arm. You're too withdrawn in his scarf to see anything, so you have no warning when he touches you. Your startled wince doesn't seem to bother him, as he locks his arm around yours, allowing him to continue working with his hands. He must be folding some of the laundry, or at least trying. You can't imagine he's well-versed in the practice.

"You're going to try to find those guys?" Some hope returns to Sherry's voice.

"I will." He doesn't hesitate and he has no doubts. As an assassin he must have some sleuthing skills. He's more than proven himself to be clever, at the least. You still don't want him to bother, though. It doesn't fix what happened, but maybe it could save someone else, at the least.

"Hey! What the hell?" You hear Revenant shout as he withdraws his arm from you and staggers backwards. You pull your face out of the scarf to see Sherry hugging a very confused Revenant.

"Eviscerate them and hang them by their fucking entrails." Sherry mumbles before letting go, and turning to you. "I hope you don't mind, he earned it." She smiles through her exhausted expression, giving you a quick hug too. She pulls away and shuffles to her folded stack of laundry, picking it up and making her way out of the room. Revenant watches her exit with concentrated attention before turning to you.

"Never thought I'd have a second idiot asking me for a favor." He huffs, stepping back over to you. He reaches into the scarf and holds your cheek for a moment, locking eyes with you. "No worries though, you're my first and favorite idiot." His intense determination has melted back down to a teasing vitriol. You let your head tilt into his palm approvingly, letting some wayward tears drip onto him.

He pulls his hand back slowly, intentionally tugging the scarf back to cover your face so you can't see. You're startled when you feel a pile of warm, clean laundry land in your lap.

"Hold this." You hear him instruct as you feel him pick you back up. You wrap your arms around the pile of sheets, clothes, and towels, doing your best to prevent any from falling out of your grip. He carries you, buried in a pile of warm laundry, all the way back to the room before lightly dropping you onto the bare mattress. You let the laundry bury you, enjoying the warmth.

"Why did I even try to fold anything...?" You hear Revenant mumble as he reaches in and pulls you upright, undoing his scarf from you. You let him pull it off of you, but don't bother to watch him put it back on himself. You prefer to bury yourself back in the warm pile of clothing, messing them up further. You hear his buckles lock down on his chassis as he walks away. "I have some leads to follow up on, stay there until I find you a babysitter." The door slams before you can sit up and ask him what he means. He's already gone. He can disappear as quickly as he can appear, climbing walls and collapsing himself into vents and nooks. Even though he used the door this time, it never ceases to scare you a little.

You wish he would just stay around and not leave. Considering how hard it was to even explain what exactly happened to you when you were attacked, you had hoped he would realize being left alone is the worst possible thing. Although, maybe he does realize this, and is getting Sherry to stay with you. Still, you'd rather it be him. It feels like a cop out for him to just leave you with her, but maybe he's also dealing with some emotions too. Unfortunately, you're worried he thinks he can somehow undo everything that happened to you with a bloodbath of vengeance.

You sigh, getting up and looking at the disheveled pile of laundry. You begin to toss your wads of clothing into your duffel bag. No point in folding any of it, it's not like you own anything nice. As you pick through, some appear to be partially folded but his claws had poked some holes in them. Well, at least it's all cheap and replaceable. You toss them into the bag anyway, right now you don't have time to get new ones. You fold the towels and place them in the bathroom, nicely folded and ready to be used again. You take the one odd rag to the kitchenette, finding the drawer full of its siblings and placing it nicely.

Finally, you make the bed. It's an annoying and cumbersome process when you're working alone--the beds here are so big you have to do laps around it to get all the sheets and blanket right. However, you refuse to cut corners, and get it done pretty quickly. The majority of your past few years here have been focused on housekeeping, so you consider yourself quite adept and efficient at it. After throwing on the pillowcases and making a small mound of plush pillows to jump on later, you consider it done.

With nothing left to do, you decide to jump on the pillow mound early, burying yourself in it.

Almost as soon as you get comfortable, the door swings back open.

"Skinsuit! Meet your friend for the day!" Revenant sounds oddly sadistic, but why?

You turn around to meet eyes with a single, red, optical bulb.

"Hello, new friend! I'm Pathfinder, and I am a MRVN!" He waves at you as if you're not a mere few yards away. You actually already know Pathfinder, but he tends to forget who you are regularly. Maybe it's from getting damaged in the Apex Games? Or perhaps it's since he's only ever met you in passing before. After all, there's never been a good reason for him to remember you until now. "Very nice to meet you, Skinsuit!"

Revenant fights back a chortle as Pathfinder gets your name so morbidly wrong. You have no reason to correct him, though, after all you never had parents to give you a real name. You've been trying on different names for decades. 'Skinsuit' just seems to fit this stage of your life, weirdly enough.

"After our misunderstanding yesterday, I decided to make it up to him by introducing you two." Revenant explains to you, his hands gesturing sarcastically. Misunderstanding is one way to put it. "He's going to make sure you don't hurt, maim, kill, or otherwise damage yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes! I don't let friends do any of those things!" Pathfinder pipes up excitedly, probably not even realizing the subtext of what Revenant is implying.

Revenant must be holding on to your self-destructive rant from earlier. That explains why he's keeping some distance. You wish you could take it back, but words don't work like that. You still can't ignore it and let it stand, though.

"Rev, I'm sorry." You blurt out, not caring what Pathfinder might think. Revenant locks eyes with you for a moment, looking slightly less on-edge than before, but still quite tense. His pause doesn't last long, as his manipulative performance must go on for Pathfinder.

"There's nothing to apologize for. " He shrugs with heavy exaggeration, even though he clearly knows what you're referring to. "Just don't be a liability." He turns to Pathfinder, who has been listening intently. "Try to keep her safe, you wouldn't want to get me in trouble if she gets hurt, would you?"

"Absolutely not, brother!" He salutes, seemingly aloof to the tension in the air.

With that, Revenant disappears behind the closing door and is gone again.

Cool, more metal friends you didn't ask for. Well, the first one went well, maybe this won't be so bad.

"You said the right thing." Pathfinder suddenly sounds more serious, even if it still has an unmistakable twinge of optimism. "He seemed upset. I think you made him feel better."

"Wait, you saw through that?" You're dumbfounded, what is with all the perceptive robots in this place?

"He always acts like that for me, but I don't mind. He only does it for me, so we must be like brothers!" Okay, maybe he's not working with a perfectly clear perspective, but still. "And he wouldn't try to get me to watch you if he didn't value you, so I will do this as a favor to him." The screen on his chest emotes a heart-eyed smiling face. "He was very upset when he thought I had figured out his secret, so you must be a very good friend to be a secret friend!"

"Wait, you saw me yesterday?" Is this MRVN a genius and pretending to be unassuming, or somehow a perfectly naïve clairvoyant? He's able to hide his power of perception from Revenant, so he can't be stupid.

"Of course! I have sensors that pick up on heat and vital signs. But you were clearly hiding, so I did not want to ruin your fun."

Fun? Oh, he's so perfectly naïve, or you're falling for a perfectly executed feign. Whichever it is, Pathfinder is a little scary in the exact opposite manner that Revenant is. Revenant may be a homicidal simulacrum with deeply human roots, but his intentions are fairly obvious and any malice he has is clear cut and concise. Pathfinder is much more confusing, clearly more intelligent than he lets on, but so perfectly optimistic that he comes off as non-threatening. Despite that impression, you've seen Pathfinder take down some of the scariest Legends over the years, often with a near-condescending air of playful joy while doing so. When Revenant kills, the bloodlust is sensible, but playfulness? It's somehow scarier.

"Are you okay, friend? You seem nervous. Did I say something bad?" His emote shows a distressed face.

"Sorry, I just get caught up in thought sometimes. What did you want to do for fun?" You figure he won't hurt you, even if you can't completely figure him out.

"Well, what do you and Revenant usually do for fun?" His emote brightens into a smile again as you grimace internally. He's either wholly unaware or viscously teasing you.

"How about we do something else? Let's..." You think, what would be nice to do? You're a bit hard pressed to come up with anything fun.

"We could bring flowers to people in the infirmary!" He pipes up happily. It's not a bad idea, really.

"Sure! I actually wanted to visit the second place Legends, if that's okay. Fuse is so nice and so is Bloodhound. Caustic... probably won't mind." You've never really met Caustic, but you know he has a reputation for being grumpy.

• • • •

You walk out into the hidden atrium behind Pathfinder's room. You knew this was here, but nobody ever comes out here to your knowledge. The doors lock if you're not careful to keep them open, so the risk of being locked outside tends to lead most to avoid the area entirely, even though it connects two wings more efficiently than the hallways.

It's full of flowers of all types, sizes, and colors. The arrangement is chaotic and seemingly random, but the lusciousness of the plants more than makes up for it. The ground flowers are blooming and have various bee species hovering around, seemingly at peace with one another. There are a few small trees reaching around eight or nine feet high and giving a little shade. One has flowers, another has berries, and yet another has some kind of unripe fruit. It's truly breathtaking, and completely undisturbed after years of being left alone by the other Legends.

"You did all this?" You ask aloud, completely in awe of the secret oasis.

"Yes! Do you like it? We can pick some flowers from here!" Pathfinder seems especially happy to be sharing this with someone.

"It's beautiful." You mutter, still captivated by how mythical this little cut of land feels.

"Thank you! I have been meaning to show Revenant, but he will never chase me this far." Pathfinder shuffles over to an area and pulls up Revenant's abandoned bovine skull from the last match with a giant chipped gash in the forehead. He's filled in the bottom and red rose buds have been replanted in the eye holes. A large snail is making its way around the gash with its mossy shell, making for an artistic arrangement. "I am really proud of this one. I felt bad his new suit was destroyed, so I wanted to keep a part of it for him. Once the roses grow, it will look really nice!"

You're impressed. Revenant seems to have some kind of distaste for Pathfinder, and you're beginning to understand why. Pathfinder is scary. He's terrifyingly kind. If your guard isn't up at all times, he will reach a deep part of you and break down your defenses in an instant. When the entirety of the Outlands treats people as disposable assets and teaches everyone to trust as few people as possible, this MRVN will treat anyone like they truly matter, like they are truly cared for, and like they are capable of great things. It's dangerous to believe those things in this universe. That's how you get victimized, abandoned, and let down. Yet, this MRVN manages to hold on to these beliefs about himself and others, and he isn't broken, dead, or an abandoned shell.

Revenant, like you, can't adhere to those beliefs. The universe has spoken, and it says otherwise. Yet, it feels nice to indulge in the feeling of mattering, even if only for a few hours. Is that why he chose Pathfinder? Of course, Pathfinder is the living opposite of a suicidal ideation, after all. Maybe Revenant knew that.

"Stupid, clever jerk." You mumble out loud.

"Me?" Pathfinder has a confused emote as he points to himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, I meant someone else." You pause, switching subjects. "It's really nice of you to reuse his favorite chassis like this. I think it's really pretty, even if he never sees it."

"Thank you, friend!" His happy emote is back, and he waves you over to another area. "Have you seen this chassis? It's my favorite!"

You walk over and follow him to see a rounded red, purple, and white chestplate that has been cracked and shattered, but loosely put back together. It has the word "Thunder" and the number "81" written on it, as well as a unique mask attached to it. This mask doesn't look like any skull you've seen before, human or otherwise, but still has a bony texture. It appears to have hooks near the chin, perhaps where it was attached to the exoskeleton, as well as unusual leather bags under the eyes. It looks perpetually tired and angry, but you definitely can't say you've seen him wear this before. The chestplate is closed over an old wood stump and beautiful mushrooms have sprung to life in the darkness and reached beyond the chassis to meet the light. His mask has a particularly colorful fungus growing on it, happily latching onto the porous material more easily than the chestplate. It's gorgeous, but you wish you could see this chassis on him too.

"No, I've never seen this one before... I haven't seen him wear it in the games either. What is it?" You ask, curious why he would have such an odd chassis in his repertoire.

"He uses it when we spar! I don't think he uses it much otherwise."

"You two spar?" You're surprised. Maybe Revenant also finds excuses to dabble in the feeling of mattering sometimes.

"Yes! Not too often, I think he gets frustrated that I am an excellent boxer. I have tried to let him win, but he doesn't like that." Your eyes widen. Pathfinder can outclass Revenant in a sparring match? This guy really is scary. "You should come sometime!"

You look back at the busted chassis. Was Revenant knocked out of this one with a blow from Pathfinder? You knew all MRVN are particularly sturdy and powerful, but you never really felt it until now. You're a helpless ragdoll full of easily exploitable and fatal flaws to Revenant, but you never even considered that perspective when around Pathfinder. Now you do.

"You can really beat Revenant?" You mumble aloud, not intending it as a real question.

"When we only use our fists, yes! I don't think I could beat him if he was allowed to use his stabbing hands. He is getting better though!" He doesn't acknowledge your apparent fear, simply giving a chipper answer. "Whiplash to the neck is a weak point in his design. He is learning that he can't let me land an uppercut. You should come watch sometime! I bet he would fight harder with you there!"

The thought of Pathfinder knocking out Revenant with an uppercut is unbelievable to you. You almost want to know if it's really possible.

"I will, if you're both okay with it." You look up at Pathfinder, who immediately makes a happy clapping motion.

"Yes! I look forward to it!"

"Do you have any more insider information on his other suits?" You ask, curious how many he has seen.

"He's told me about some, but I haven't seen them yet. Only some special colored versions of his normal one." He looks upwards as if to think, the emote on his screen changing to match. You've seen some of the other colors in past games, but never in person. You hope he has a lot of different suits, especially since they tend to alter his personality a little. You wonder what his sparring suit does to him.

"We are here to visit Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic!" Pathfinder chirps, flashing his ID badge. You place yours on the counter as well, as the receptionist scans them both. You know the receptionist, Carol's been here a long time, and she's used to seeing volunteers come through to visit the Legends.

"Let's pick some flowers for the others, then maybe we can talk some more." You want to make sure you get to see the second place team, knowing the extent of their injuries is well beyond simple gunshots wounds. Revenant had run Caustic and Fuse through completely, and probably broke many of Bloodhound's bones. You're a little worried for all of them.

• • • •

You and Pathfinder approach the receptionist in the infirmary wing, holding three unique bunches of flowers. You couldn't find vases, so they're propped up in glass soda bottles filled with water. It may be a cheap alternative to a proper vase, but the flower quality makes up for it.

She starts to laugh after scanning your badge.

"Little Skinsuit? Is that what you're going by now?" She prods. "Also, I didn't know Revenant liked anyone enough to have a direct hire. I guess all that dedication to the grump-machine paid off, huh? Congrats!" She's very nice, and doesn't pry further than that.

"I'm not going to tell Revenant what not to call me, that would be asking for trouble. But thank you! It only took four seasons and figuring out his favorite liquor." You take your ID back.

"Ha! Leave it to you to make your way up in the world through the craziest means possible. Revenant still scares the heck out of me. Today was the first time I've ever seen him visit anyone, though. Maybe he's softening up." She spins a little in her chair thinking about it. "Anyway, tell Sherry I said 'hi' when you see her next!"

"Will do! Thanks Carol!" You chime back, walking past the desk with your arms full of bouquets, Pathfinder following behind. Why would Revenant have come by here earlier? That's very odd.

As you turn the corner, you see the names of the currently admitted Legends on each of the doorways. There are not many left, it seems like most were discharged this afternoon. Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic are all still here though.

Caustic's room is the closest, but you'd rather wait to deal with him last. You haven't met him, and those who have aren't usually treated well apparently. He almost has as bad of a reputation as Revenant, but Sherry has always been able to interact with him reasonably. She told you it had something to do with being close to Wattson, but that doesn't make much sense to you.

"Let's see Fuse first." You say, carefully making your way to Fuse's door. You knock lightly before you hear his booming voice welcome you.

"Door's unlocked, mate!" He barely sounds injured. As you open the door, you see Fuse grinning widely and sitting upright in bed. He's in a hospital gown, chest exposed to reveal a massive but sewed up and sealed wound. "Oy, you brought me flowers! How kind of ya." He's absolutely beaming for someone with a massive hole in his chest.

"Sorry we came so late in the afternoon, I just wanted to visit and make sure you were okay." You fumble over your words, not sure how else to admit you were worried about him and the others. Let alone that it's partially an apology for Revenant absolutely skewering him.

"Not a problem, I see you brought a different metal fellow with ya t'day." He motions to a table beside him, where you place the flowers.

"Good to see you again Fuse, I am glad to see you are recovering well." Pathfinder chirps, forever positive.

"So, sheila, how is the angry feller?" Right, he knows about you and Revenant.

"He's, uh, under some stress, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." You're not sure how else to answer. Saying he's fine is too obvious of a lie, but you don't want to be too specific either.

"Really? Who knew? The red rage actually has problems like the rest of us." He chuckles. Normally you wouldn't think much of his statement, but Fuse is the type to try to get anyone to warm up to him, Revenant being no exception. Perhaps you've said too much.

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking care of his secret friend for him! She's not allowed to be a liability!" Pathfinder gently pats your shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Fuse catches sight of your dejected look and laughs harder, gripping his chest to steady the pain. Pathfinder takes his laughter as some kind of endorsement, while you hang your head in embarrassment. Fuse catches his breath finally.

"No worries sheila, I won't tell a soul. You may have to keep that a bit more under wraps though, Pathy." Fuse says through labored breaths. That laugh must have hurt. Pathfinder cocks his head in confusion. "I think the point of having a 'secret friend' is to keep them a secret, not to tell everyone!"

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Pathfinder realizes his mistake, a blue sad face appearing on his screen.

"It's okay, Pathfinder, Fuse actually already knew." You pat him on the arm in reassurance.

"Yeah, no worries mate. Just be a little more careful." His smile erases any embarrassment you feel. "Well, I'll let ya make your other rounds, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Fuse waves goodbye to you both as you excuse yourselves.

You make your way across the hall to the room labelled for Bloodhound. You lightly knock, and a nurse opens the door carefully for you. You slip in quietly and see Bloodhound lying on their back, their head facing your direction. You see their eyes dart in your direction, no longer buried under their usual goggles. Their head is well-wrapped in gauze, and their breathing mask is replaced with a hospital oxygen mask. You can finally see their eyes, which are filled with a softness you don't usually see.

Artur is on a large perch in the corner of the room, surprisingly. Bloodhound likely had to fight to get Artur into the infirmary at some point, since the perch almost looks to be a permanent installment now. Artur coos, watching the room carefully.

"Ah, the apprentice and Pathfinder." They address you both, but don't sit up. They likely aren't able to in this state.

You look to the nurse and offer her the flowers, not sure if you can approach Bloodhound at all. She takes the vase and puts it on a table a short ways from them, but well within their eyesight. Bloodhound seems enamored by the flowers, but also confused by their presence for a few moments.

"Ah, right, flowers are a common gift to the injured." They say to themself before turning to you both. "Your well wishes are accepted graciously. May the Allfather bless you in return."

You bow instinctively, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet room. Pathfinder notices and attempts to do the same, but starts to lose his balance and barely recovers. Once you right yourself, you break the silence for a mere moment.

"Get well soon, Bloodhound. Please don't..." You trail off, not sure where you were going. Die? Unlikely. Hurt? They're already hurt. Hate Revenant? They're not the type. "... don't be a stranger." You recover a little, but you're sure you're coming off awkwardly.

Bloodhound smiles with their eyes, and you feel much better, quietly slipping back out the door. Pathfinder follows, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"I kept the secret!" He pumps his fists a little. You chuckle.

"By not talking at all. I guess it works." You pat him on the arm again. "One left, but I don't know anything about Caustic. I hope he's not as bad as they say."

Pathfinder takes the last bouquet from you and leads the way this time, apparently willing to handle the interaction himself. He knocks on the door and opens it, revealing a growling Caustic on the other side, sitting upright in bed and writing in a notebook. His usual mask is switched for an oxygen mask, and he's in a hospital garb that is far too large for him.

"Greetings, doctor! I brought you flowers!" Pathfinder chirps happily, ignoring Caustic's scowl.

"I don't want flowers. I already had to answer the simulacrum's idiotic questions, why are you bothering me now?" Caustic asks angrily, averting his attention back to his notebook.

"I intentionally got you chamomile flowers, they're Wattson's favorite for tea!" Pathfinder chirps, holding the white and yellow-centered flowers up. Caustic suddenly looks up from his notebook with a softer expression, before sighing and relenting.

"Fine, put them down on the table." His voice and expression have softened, but you're not sure why. Pathfinder must know something you don't.

As Pathfinder moves to put the flowers on his table, you lose your body to hide behind. Caustic notices you, and suddenly smiles a little wickedly.

"Ah, the simulacrum's personal lapdog reveals herself." He sneers. How did he know about you? Did Revenant say something? "You have quite the science project at your beck and call. How did a little thing like you manage that?"

You're not sure how to answer, and you know your discomfort is visible on your face. Pathfinder seems to notice as well.

"You seem to be a kindred spirit, flirting with death. Makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?" He coughs a little, interrupting his train of thought. His voice returns in a much more serious tone. "I'm afraid I can't do anything more for either of you, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to get under the simulacrum's skin."

Pathfinder doesn't speak, but starts walking towards the door, gently herding you in that direction. You leave, unsure of what else to say after that. The door gently closes behind you both.

"Are you okay, friend?" Pathfinder asks.

Now late in the evening, you finally make it back to Revenant's room, bidding Pathfinder goodbye before opening the door. You're holding a single flower you picked out for Revenant, despite Pathfinder's insistence that Revenant doesn't like or accept flowers. He's tested it thoroughly, or so he claims. You're certain this one is different, though. You picked this one for him, and you picked it for a reason. As you slip through the door, Revenant stands up from the computer desk to meet you.

"Yeah, just disturbed, I guess. Let's go, it's getting late. Let me grab dinner and let's go back to your garden." You answer, not sure what Caustic meant. You'd rather spend the rest of the evening chatting about Revenant's different chassis with Pathfinder than dwelling on Caustic's cryptic words.

• • • •

"You must have had fun. You've been gone all day." He notices the flower. "Pathfinder managed to pawn one of his flowers off on you?" He scoffs, rolling his optics.

"Actually, I picked this one for you." You correct him, unsurprised by his initial rejection. He seems to tense at the realization it's a gift from you, not Pathfinder, and that he has already judged it so openly. "It's a datura flower, I thought it was fitting."

"Datura? Like the drug?" He asks, trying to ignore his previous judgement on the flower.

"Yeah, it's called the Devil's Trumpet. It's poisonous if ingested, and causes psychedelic delusions. It's legendary for giving some of the most hellish waking nightmares. Isn't that something you've said about yourself? A nightmare flower for the nightmare Apex Predator!" You finish your short speech, and he carefully takes the flower from you, staring silently at its alluring but deceptive beauty for a few moments in silence.

"Thank you." He finally says, carefully placing the makeshift vase and flower down on the computer desk. "I wanted to talk to you about something while we're at it."

"Is this about what I said earlier? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking, and--"

"You wanted to die. It's okay. I understand that feeling." He takes your hand and sits you down on the bed as he takes the office chair opposite to you. "I don't want you to die, even though I am certain I will live to see the day anyway." He pauses, gathering the words he wants to say. "If you really find you cannot handle living any longer, I want you to die painlessly in my arms."

You sit there, unable to fully process what he means, or perhaps you're refusing to process it. It's hard to swallow, if your suspicion is right. He lets the pause hang before finally specifying.

"If you truly must die, I want to be the one to take your life." His head hangs, and he refuses to make further eye contact. "It will be painless, you won't be alone, and I can hold you one last time." His pain is apparent.

As soon as the words register in your head, you throw yourself to the floor and kneel under his hunched over body, trying to meet his gaze. He is unmistakably despaired, so you stand into him, hugging him as you do.

"I'm so sorry Revenant, I promise it won't come to that." You're pleading with him to trust you, but you're not sure how to convince him. "I love you, I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. I won't let it come to that."

You're pretty sure you sound desperate, but you're not sure how he'll interpret that. You are desperate to get him back from wherever his mind is. He stays limp in your arms for a few moments--long enough to concern you. His optics are still on, so he's not rebooting. He's just pondering, and somehow that's more worrying than anything.

Finally, Revenant hugs you back, standing up and lifting you off the ground. He brings you to the bed, carefully lying down in it and dragging you into an enveloping hold. He holds you tightly, but with an intensity you haven't felt before. He doesn't speak, just holds you, refusing to let go.

You lay there, unable to move and unwilling to abandon him for what feels like hours, until your consciousness starts to fade. You drift off quickly, unable to deny your exhaustion any further.

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nautiscarader · 3 years

Text

My goodness, 1.5 weeks without my two 23 inch monitors, a mouse with six extra buttons and a normal keyboard, oh how I missed basic human necessities.

Yeah, my trip to the hospital was a wee bit longer than I expected.

The good news: I finally know what's wrong with me~!

The bad news: ...I finally know what's wrong with me.

And since this is personal, I will keep it under the cut, no need for you to read more if you don't want to feel bummed, and this is a serious thing, I will not judge you for skipping it.

For all intents and purposes, I am back.

Let's rip the bandage off: I have multiple sclerosis. Which is... bad. Basically my immune system is... kinda attacking my own nerve endings, from what I can understand. For the past few months I had problems walking, which I though was purely orthopaedic problem, as I had a small accident on my grocery trip. But my knees have healed while my walking... did not. So I had to go to the neurologist, he sent me to hospital and after LOOOOOOTS of tests, I was diagnosed with MS.

Actually, they still haven't sent me ALL the data yet, but they pumped me full of antibiotics and just sent me home to wait for next instructions.

I will have to get visits from a physiotherapist, I got a brand new roller for walking, and... there is chance that this bloody thing will spread to my optical nerve and hands.

So, that's... not good.

But you know what, fuck MS, I am not gonna give up.

youtube

Especially since I still have prompts to write, so I have you guys to keep me motivated.... In fact, I may open something just for you guys to make up for the lost time. Because I'm crazy.

And now some hilarious* highlights:

(*hilarity may vary)

When they admitted me, I was lying on a half-functioning third bed in a two-people room. One of the beds got free after a day, though. Four nurses tried to make that bed work, none of them could find the bloody remote to lower the headrest. As far as I'm aware that bed is till missing the remote to this day.

the mug they gave me for tea did not have a mug ear, so it was useless until I pointed that out. actually, they did nothing with it, I had to just just manually go to the kitchen and swap it when they weren't looking.

Oh and speaking of tea, it was dreadful, 0/10 in Uncle Iroh's scale. At the very least it was liquid.... most of the time.

in fact, they gave very little cutlery during dinners and breakfasts, I had to remind them that spoons are necessary to eat soups...

I ate hummus for the first time though! And it was okay.

one of my neighbours was lying there for a week already, waiting for his results, he got released a day before me (he had to had electric needles put in his tongue AUCH AUCH AUCH)

on the other hand, I had to have a lumbar puncture to... uh, get the fluid from my spine, which sounds painful, until you learn what happens afterwards: you have to lay motionless for 24 HOURS. no lifting your head or... it explodes, or something. SRSLY. The headaches are apparently horrible. Thank gods for my headphones and books. Try imagine peeing sideways though.

then came magnetic resonance (MRI), two of them, actually, each of them took an hour. They put you in a metal tube and the only way I can describe it is: imagine the entire concept of electrodynamics from the past two centuries or so BEING ANGRY AT YOU COS IT SCREAMS AND VIBRATES AND ROARS AND DOES PLINGS AND PLUNGS AT RANDOM MOMENTS AROUND YOUR HEAD. Again, for an hour. They give you earplugs which do not fucking work, I can tell you. Oh and you cannot move as well.

When I asked for a bit of washing powder so I can clean my dirty clothes ( I under-prepared myself, my fault), all the nurses thought that I asked them for a bloody golden egg. No cleaning solutions for patients in the entire hospital, had to use one of theirs spare pajamas. Also, no extra towels, I had to use extra pillowcases, which they had shittons of, and they work exactly as you might think.

Oh and speaking of shower cabins: they did not have a cabin for shower. They had shower, but... no way to.... shield it. the water just.... was in the bathroom and it would just flow into the drain. Which is kinda problematic if you have patients with walking problems, so they might, you know, slip and break neck. Like, I did not expect a glass fancy round doors, just three fucking walls and a bit of a curtain. That was in the previous hospital I was in, and it was in a way smaller town, so they figured it out!

oh and of course they had to probe me for covid just in case... like twice.

They had a vending machine! And it had snacks in it! In case you can't read between lines, I am happy about it!

Also, apparently I am high-functioning autistic person! No official diagnosis, but I had a lovely talk with a psychiatrist who I guess had to test all my cogs if they work, and she said it was apparently bloody obvious from my mannerisms. Entrapta is best pony.

So... I guess that's it.

I am kinda in limbo right now, cos I don't know all the details myself yet. I will try to keep you informed, but... you'd just have to get used to some more random visits in hospital from me from now on. So, sorry about that.

And I will be bringing my own bloody tea next time, though.

All I want to say is... thanks for putting up with me. And for all the messages you've send me. They really mean a world to me right now. Seriously.

....

Now have some cats!

#personal

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little-fam-ily · 4 years

Text

A Place To Call Home (Fam ILY) Chapter 1

Read it on ao3 Rating: T Warnings: Age regression, implied abuse Summary: Virgil is an age regressor. Patton, his best friend, is the only one that knows. Things change very quickly when Patton starts dating Logan, and Virgil slips hard.

Ever since he was a kid, Virgil knew he was different. He knew he thought things, felt things in a different way than other kids. He tried making friends, talking with people, but all his words came out jumbled and awkward. He tried being positive, but it was hard when all he seemed like to other people was a disappointment. His thoughts were like a tight ball of knots that could never be worked through. This always left him feeling isolated and alone, and his neglectful parents didn’t help.

Things started to change a little when he met a boy named Patton in high school. He was new to the small town, and picked an isolated corner in the cafeteria as his designated lunch/hiding spot.

That didn’t last long, as soon a short, chubby-cheeked boy with curly blonde hair, golden freckles, and the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen come up to him. “Hey there, you’re the new kid, right? I’m Patton, it’s nice to meet you!” He said with a smile, holding out his hand.

Virgil was taken aback. No one had ever come up to him like that before, especially of their own volition. He always seemed too bitter and angry to approach, and he honestly learned to like it that way.

“Virgil.” He said cautiously, taking Patton’s hand. Patton smiled even wider, and shook it gratefully. Virgil didn’t even know that that was possible.

“Hey, can I sit with you?” Patton asked, not even waiting for a response as he sat down next to him. Virgil shifted away slightly, out of habit, and Patton got the hint, not getting too close.

They sat in silence for a while, eating their lunch. Well, Virgil was in silence, Patton was rambling about a million different things at once.

Then the lunch bell rang, their signal to go back to class. Patton stood up first. “Well, I gotta go to my fourth period, math. But thanks for letting me sit with you!”

“Huh, I have math too.” Virgil noted quietly.

“Oh, that’s great! We have a class together! Here, let me walk with you!”

And by Virgil’s side Patton stayed, for the entirety of high school and beyond. It didn’t take long for them to become the best of friends. They could always count on each other for anything, whether that being keeping secrets or standing up for one another. They could finish each other’s sentences, and sometimes it felt like they could read each other’s mind.

Patton seemed like his exact opposite; cheerful and friendly, and always looking on the bright side. He was amazing with people, and somehow always knew how to make a new friend. He was caring and kind, and was always willing to lend a helping hand. Virgil figured that was why they got along so well, opposites attract.

There was something else in Virgil’s life that only Patton knew about. He was an age regressor, someone who adopted the mind of a child to help cope with stress, trauma, anxiety, and a multitude of other things. Trauma was his biggest reason, with help from his parents, and him.

He figured he had always done it, he just didn’t have a word for it until a little after high school, when he told Patton. Patton actually had heard about it before, since he was both a regressor and a caregiver himself. They did their research, and quickly decided that Patton would be his carer.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden…” Virgil mumbled.

“Don’t worry kiddo, you'll never be a burden to me. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Patton reassured. Virgil needed a lot of that, since he wasn’t very used to healthy relationships.

It had been several years since then. They had grown up, gotten their own places, and started work. Virgil worked at the Hot Topic in the mall, and Patton worked at a local animal shelter down the street from his apartment. They considered moving in together, but Virgil figured he would appreciate the space of living alone more, and Patton understood.

It was late summer. They both had to work overtime, considering the onslaught of kids that would be coming to and from during their break.

Hey there kiddo, how’ve you been?

Virgil looked down at the text on his phone and smiled. They hadn’t been able to see each other very much recently, being so busy and all, so being reached out to by Patton felt nice.

been good, kinda wanna regress, but ive been too busy

Awe, I’m sorry about that kiddo! Are you free to come over? You can if you want!

sure, be there in a min

They’ve had this agreement since forever that whenever Virgil needed to regress he would always go to Patton. Virgil rarely regressed without him, only letting himself under dire circumstances. If Patton wasn’t able to be there, he would hold off and be big until he was.

He grabbed his backpack with his little gear in it and headed to the bus stop. He put his earbuds in and got lost in the sound of 2000s punk rock bands until he stopped by Patton’s apartment.

It didn’t take long for Patton to open the door. “Hey kiddo! Come on in!”

They hugged, and Virgil was rushed in, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that there was another man in the room.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Virgil, this is Logan, my boyfriend!” Patton chuckled nervously, motioning to the stranger. He was tall and lanky, and his dark brown hair was cut short and slicked back. His striking dark eyes seemed to stare straight into Virgil’s core.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He said, holding out his hand. Both his words and his movements seemed almost robotic, emotionless.

“Virgil.” He took his hand cautiously, suspicion quickly rising.

Patton watched this exchange warily. “Uh, Logan, sweetie, why don’t you get us some snacks and drinks, yeah?”

Logan nodded his head. “I suppose some refreshments are in order.” He stated before going into the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s wrong hon?” Patton stepped toward Virgil.

“How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell me?” He hissed quietly, straining to keep his voice low.

“I don’t know, I’ve just been really busy, that’s all! And I know you’ve been busy too. Besides, we’ve only been going out for a couple of weeks-”

“A week and a half.” Logan corrected

“See! A week and a half, it hasn’t been that long!” Patton reassured, putting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Does he know?” He mumbled. Patton furrowed his brows. “Know about what?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, motioning to the backpack slung over his shoulder. Patton’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Well, I told him about myself as soon as we started dating.”

“Did you tell him about me?” He whimpered, anxiety only rising.

“No! Oh, no, of course not! I wouldn’t out you to anyone without your permission, you know that!” Patton said, squeezing his shoulder. Virgil huffed, crossing his arms.

“You know that you don’t have to talk about me behind my back, right?” Logan walked in with a tray, with a bowl of popcorn and three cups of soda on it, since Patton didn’t drink.

Virgil shuddered, looking away. He scrunched up, making himself look as small as possible. Patton smiled nervously. “Logan! I’m sorry, we were just clearing up some things, that’s all.”

Logan stared at both of them for a second, but shrugged and set the tray down on the coffee table, not caring enough to get into it.

“I should go.” Virgil murmured, quickly shuffling to the door. Patton stopped him. “You don’t have to! You can stay if you want.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine, I’ll leave you two alone.” He shoved past Patton and walked hurriedly down the stairs and toward the bus stop, trying hard to stop the tears pricking his eyes and the lump in his throat.

Patton sighed. “I should go after him.” He said, biting his lip.

“I don’t know, maybe he just needs some space.” Logan countered, picking up a book and flipping through to where he last left off.

“Yeah, maybe…”

“I have a feeling he doesn’t like me very much.” He stated after a moment of silence had passed between them.

“He doesn’t mean it like that!” Patton said, turning around. “He’s just, been through a lot, and doesn’t do well with people.”

“I can understand that.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “But it’d be best to give him his space. He can probably handle himself.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Patton smiled sadly, sitting next to him and digging into the popcorn, knowing deep down that that wasn’t true.

Virgil burst into his apartment, stomping to his room and slamming the door. He threw down his backpack in a huff, plopping down on the bed. He grabbed the nearest pillow he could find, squeezing it as tight as he could.

The thoughts started pouring in. This can’t be happening. He’s gonna leave. He found someone new and now he’s gonna leave me.

He dug his face into the pillow, tears staining the pillowcase. He looked at his backpack with disdain, knowing that he was gonna have to be all by himself.

He put the pillow down, and crawled over to his backpack. He opened it carefully, and pulled out a small beanie baby bat stuffie named Vlad. He held it tight, feeling himself getting smaller and smaller.

He took a deep breath and sighed, opening the small front pocket. He pulled out his single pacifier. It was lavender with black rhinestones on the guard, the words ‘baby bat’ on the handle. A little bat charm was the centerpiece. Patton decorated it himself.

That’s when Virgil broke down. He sobbed quietly, tears falling down his cheeks. He held onto Vlad like he was holding on for dear life. He started rocking back and forth, his breath getting shallower and shallower.

The walls started closing in around him. The shadows were towering over his small frame. His field of vision was darkening, and static started to fill his ears. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Flashes of the past swirled in his mind. Parents, school, but most frighteningly, him.

God, why are you like this? Jesus, why do I even put up with you? You’re worthless, you know that? I shouldn’t even be here, I’d be a lot happier if I wasn’t.

Then he stopped himself, reminding himself that nothing would get solved this way. He took big gulps of breath, trying to remember those breathing exercises Patton had taught him. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.

He did this several times. The static had gone away, and his vision was a lot clearer. But there was still this heavy, empty feeling in his chest, and the lump in his throat was still there.

He stood up shakily, grabbing his sippy cup from his backpack and going to fill it with milk. It was a bit bad, but he didn’t care at that point.

He shuffled back to his bedroom, grabbing Vlad and his pacifier, and climbed into bed, burying himself in a pile of blankets. He got out his phone and went to Spotify, putting on his special littlespace playlist. He let his eyes flutter close, trying his best to go to sleep.

It seemed like the minutes ticked by slower and slower. Every time he shut his eyes, they would just pop open again. He groaned, taking his pacifier out of his mouth and sitting back up. The thoughts were coming back again.

He tried, he really did. He tried to be big, he tried to take care of himself. But he just couldn’t do it. He needed someone there, someone to take care of him. Specifically, he needed Patton, he needed his Papa.

The tears started forming again, and this time he was slipping hard. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts, tapping Patton’s name.

The phone seemed to ring forever, but he finally picked up. “Hey kiddo, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“No.” Virgil sniffed, voice getting smaller. “Need you, miss you.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I should’ve come with you.” Patton sighed, silently cursing himself. “How small are you love?”

“Dunno, baby I think.” Virgil was really slurring his words.

Patton let out a breath, biting his lip. “Alright little one, I’m coming as fast as I can. Can you hold out until I get there? For me?”

A few more tears slipped down Virgil’s cheeks. “Mhmm.”

“Thank you, baby bat. I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise.”

Patton hung up the phone. He grabbed his wallet and his keys, and headed for the door. “I should’ve gone with him.” He said, facing Logan, who was still sitting on the couch.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have kept you. I didn’t realize how bad it was.” He said, looking up from his book.

“Are you sure?” Patton stepped towards him. He stood up, towering over him. “I’m sure. Go, he obviously needs you.”

Patton smiled. “Thank you.” He said, kissing his boyfriend goodbye before heading out the door.

They lived relatively close to each other, and Patton was able to get to Virgil’s faster, since he had a car. He ran up and knocked on the door, before realizing it was unlocked. He opened it carefully.

“Virgil? Are you here?” He called out, looking around warily. He stepped in, listening to any sign of movement.

He soon heard sobbing coming from the bedroom. He rushed in as quietly as he could, finding that the huge pile of blankets on the bed was shaking.

“Hey there sweetie, can I come in?” He asked, stepping towards the bed. He slowly pulled back the covers, revealing Virgil’s wide, scared eyes.

“Oh, oh baby…” Patton cooed, gingerly touching Virgil’s hair. “Can I climb under there with you?”

Virgil hesitated, but nodded his head. Patton smiled, pulling back the covers and getting in, pulling them back over them.

He noticed that Virgil was biting his thumb out of habit. He looked around, finding his pacifier near the edge of the bed. “Here, can you put this in, please?”

Virgil whined, looking away. Patton sighed. “Can you do this for me? I just don’t want you biting your thumb and hurting yourself.”

Virgil huffed, begrudgingly taking his thumb out of his mouth. He opened wide, letting out a relieved sigh as Patton put his pacifier in.

“Thank you, sweet boy.” Patton smiled, holding him close. “Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

He burrowed his face in the crook of Patton’s neck. “Gonna leave.”

“What?” Patton asked, looking down at him.

“You’re gonna leave.” He sobbed. “You’re gonna leave just like DeeDee did. He’s gonna take you away from me.”

“Oh, oh honey, no no no. Look at me.” Patton gently held Virgil’s face in his hands, bringing their eyes to meet. “I would never abandon you like that, okay? Never, in my entire life. I’m here for you, always, and I’ll never let you go, okay?”

Virgil nodded, closing his eyes and touching his forehead with Patton’s.

“I, I like Logan, I do. But we’ve only been together for a short while, so we’re not really in the ‘I Love You’ stage yet. Besides, I could never love him as much as I love you.” Patton assured.

“Really?” Virgil asked, wide eyed.

“Really really. I pinkie promise.” Patton held out his pinkie for Virgil to take, which he did with a small smile.

Patton laughed. “Now, what do you wanna do? Do you wanna watch some TV, or?”

“Take a nap.” Virgil mumbled, eyes finally heavy enough to close.

“Alright kiddo, you take a nap. I’ll be right here with you.” Patton murmured, holding Virgil close and gently petting his hair.

Virgil hummed, snuggling up as close as he could. His breathing steadied, and he fell into a safe lull of listening to Patton’s heartbeat. His smell and his touch filled him with a cozy feeling of warmth. “Love you Papa.”

Patton smiled, heart melting. He knew he would stay with his baby boy for as long as he could, and he had a feeling he could do it forever. “Love you too, little one.”

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pleasereadmycrap · 4 years

Text

And They Were Roommates Pt. 4

Pairing: Ransom x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: angst

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99

The next morning, you woke up groggy, and your head was pounding. As you slowly came to, you realized that you were pressed against something hard. Had you left your backpack in bed again? You snuggled back into your pillow, not quite ready to wake up and face the day yet, when you realized that that wasn’t your pillowcase, and the sweater wasn’t yours either. You immediately shot up in bed and looked around you, just as Ransom’s arms fell from around your waist.

Crap! Last night came rushing back to you and you winced at the memory. You suddenly remembered the alley and Ransom saving you. You finally remembered why you were in his bed. It was kinda sweet, the fact that he had been so willing to let you sleep with him to calm his nerves.

You lay back down in his arms, still not quite ready to be awake yet, and nestled back into him, retreating to the safe comfort of his warm arms. However, as soon as you did, you could feel his semi pressing into your back, and you practically leapt out of the bed. No! That was never happening again. You rushed out of the room and back to your own. You immediately stripped out of Ransom’s sweater and threw it across the room before changing into a pair of your own sweats.

You walked into the kitchen in search of some breakfast, but Ransom had eaten the last of your Pop-tarts. Luckily there was still a box of pancake mix, and it had been a while since you had chocolate chip pancakes. As you were measuring the ingredients, you hesitated for a second. Before, you had sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t let Ransom get used to the idea of a homemade breakfast everyday. He was already entitled enough as it is, but now, you were questioning that idea. He had saved you last night and been kind to you. So yeah, just this once, he deserved some pancakes.

A few minutes later, Ransom stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes blearily and wearing nothing but sweatpants and looking more delicious than the breakfast that you were cooking.

“Hey, did you make enough for me this time?” he asked as he sat at the bar across from you.

“Actually, I did,” you said as you pushed a plate of pancakes across the counter towards him.

“And you put the chocolate chips in the shape of a heart. Someone’s feeling smiley this morning.”

“I feel fine, perfectly normal. I wanted to thank you again for last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N,” Ransom reassured you as he reached for your hand across the bar and squeezed it gently.

“Yes, I do,” you replied, turning your attention back to your pancakes. “Now stop distracting me. You’re making me burn the pancakes.”

“Why didn’t you stay in bed this morning?”

“Oh, I uh… couldn’t get back to sleep,” you stammered.

“Well, I’m gonna go for a run,” Ransom said as he stood and disappeared back into his room. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding.

…

Later that night, you left your room after a particularly grueling case study. All you wanted was to eat some microwave pizza out of the freezer and go back to your room and sleep, but Ransom had other plans.

“Hey, Y/N! I thought that we could have movie night.”

“Not tonight, Ransom. I’m really tired,” you sighed.

“But I already ordered the Thai food.”

“Did you get pad thai?”

“And I rented Rocky Horror. It’ll be just like college.”

“I’m still in college.”

“You're in law school. You need to remember what it was like back when you were rooming with Meg and we used to have our ridiculous movie marathons,” Ransom reasoned.

“You were cheating on me for most of that. Please forgive me, if I’d prefer not to relive that.”

“Just sit down and watch the damn movie, Y/N,” Ransom ordered you as he patted the spot on the couch next to him.

“Fine.”

…

It was an hour later, and you were about halfway into Rocky Horror.

“You know, I’m not gay, but if I was Rocky would be my first choice,” Ransom whispered from beside you on the couch. You were both cuddled under a blanket, eating Thai food, and singing along to “Touch a Touch a Touch a Touch Me”.

“I was always more of a Brad girl myself.”

“Yeah and you rubbed it in my face all while we were dating. I almost dyed my hair darker and got glasses.”

“Would’ve been a huge improvement,” you joked.

“Oh, I’m hurt! That was low Y/N.”

“I said what I said. Anyways, you’re hogging the blanket. You deserved it,” you said as you snuggled closer into his side and tugged on the blanket.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he replied as he booped you on the nose.

“Ransom,” you warned him. “We’re friends. We can’t go down that road again.”

…

The movie had finished, and you were headed off to your room, desperate for sleep. As you were about to head into your room, you heard Ransom’s voice from where he was still sitting on the couch.

“Hey, I thought that you were sleeping in my room again tonight.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. I mean, thanks for last night. I really needed that, but I’m better now.”

“Please Y/N. That was the best that I’ve slept in months, since the trial really.”

“Ransom, I don’t think-“

“Please,” he said as he looked up at you with puppy dog eyes. Damn it. You never could resist him when he looked at you like it.

“Fine,” you gave in with an exaggerated sigh.

“Thank you. Ladies first,” he said, gesturing to his bedroom in the most grandiose way that only Ransom could pull off.

“I have to get dressed for bed.”

“You’re already wearing sweats.”

“But I haven’t brushed my teeth. Give me a few minutes,” you protested.

“Ok, but then please. I need this.”

“I will.” A few minutes later, after you had brushed your teeth, you walked into Ransom’s room. “So if this is gonna be something that we’re gonna do, you know… regularly, we should pick sides of the bed.”

“Whatever you want. Usually, I kick girls out of my bed right after I’m finished with them and sleep sprawled out, so it’s up to you.”

“You disgust me.”

“You love me.”

“Ransom,” you said, letting him know that once again he had gone too far.

“What? I meant as a friend.”

“Let’s just go to sleep,” you said as you laid down and pulled the sheets over you. You felt the bed dip behind you, and Ransom put his arms around you.

…

You woke up sharply to the sound of screaming. It was dark, and you couldn’t feel Ransom’s arms around you anymore.

“Ransom? Ransom, what’s wrong?” you asked as you rolled over. You saw Ransom sitting up and kicking his legs wildly. “Hey, hey! Stop it!” you shouted as you reached out to grab his shoulder but he only shook you off. “Ransom! Ransom, listen to me! Snap out of it!”

Ransom showed no signs of stopping, and his eyes were still wide and unseeing. You looked around you wildly for something to snap him out of it since hitting him on the shoulder wasn’t working. You spotted the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. You reached for it, and splashed it on Ransom’s face.

“Y/N, are you there? What’s going on? Why am I wet?” he asked as he stopped shaking.

“I don’t know. You were screaming and thrashing about. I couldn’t stop you, so I splashed a glass of water on your face,” you explained. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with night terrors.”

“Have you seen somebody about that?”

“No, why would I? It’s nothing.”

“How long has this been going on for?” you pressed him.

“Since the trial.”

“That was months ago! Tell me everything right now.”

“Y/N, I don’t like talking about it.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re going to. This is a real problem, Ransom. You need to deal with it.”

“Fine. It’s been happening almost every night since the trial.”

“No offense, but why the trial? You murdered your father long before that.”

“It was all those people staring at me. They had already decided that I was guilty. My own family testified against me, and it was then that I realized that I had killed the only person who ever cared about me.”

“Oh my god, Ransom. I’m so sorry. I never thought about it like that.”

“Yeah, well, obviously neither did I or I wouldn’t have done it. You know, last night was the first night in forever that I slept through in forever. That was why I was so desperate for you to sleep with me again tonight. I’m sorry that I woke you up, Y/N,” he apologized as he hung his head, ashamed of himself.

“It’s okay. You were there for me last night, and I’m here for you tonight. Do you want to try going back to sleep?”

“I don’t know that I can.”

“Please, just try,” you said as you placed a hand on Ransom’s shoulder and pushed him back onto the bed. You wrapped your arms around him and began to hum quietly.

“What song is that? It sounds familiar,” he asked as he snuggled into your embrace.

“La Vie en Rose. It’s French.”

“It was one of my grandfather’s favorites. He used to put it on while we played Go.”

“Oh, Ransom! I had no idea. I can stop!”

“No, don’t. It’s kind of comforting to hear it again.”

“Ok,” you said quietly as you resumed humming,and Ransom lay his head back down on his pillow. Almost immediately , you could feel Ransom’s breathing slow, and soon after that, you could hear his gentle snores. However, you didn’t fall asleep until long after that, afraid that if you did something terrible would happen to Ransom, and you wouldn’t be awake to help him. The thought seemed crazy, but you felt protective of Ransom. He was your person now.

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whockeywhore · 4 years

Text

Skip Over It 4

I pulled my phone up to my ear as the door swung open. Laura waved me off as she ambled in, dropping a large stack of folders on my desk.

“You can ‘hang up’ now. It’s just me.” She sat in one of the chairs opposite me and raised an eyebrow. “How many fake calls have you taken today?”

“None.” I shrank under her gaze and gave up. “I lost count after twenty.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually. We’ve got eighty-some games together and it’ll only get weirder the longer you avoid him.”

“I’m not avoiding him, I’ve been very busy this week.” Laura reached forward and lifted the origami frog I’d folded. “That is... for research.”

“What are you researching?”

“That’s privileged information. I’d tell you but it could compromise my research.”

“Chloe, you can’t run from all of your problems.” I went to argue but she held up a finger. “It doesn’t count as cardio. You should get it out of the way before you’re stuck on a plane with him.”

“And say what?”

“That you were joking around, it was unprofessional, and you’re sorry. Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you weren’t joking around. Think about it, bud. When’s the last time you had a roll in the hay? Maybe the reason you two keep butting heads is because you’re into him. Maybe you want to work out all of that pent up frustration with him.”

“I’m not into him, Laura.”

“Not personally but physically. You don’t have to like him to fuck him.”

“That’s... what if someone finds out? I could lose my job.”

“What if nobody finds out though? You could have your cake and eat it too.” She wiggled her brows and grinned as she stood. “Think about it.”

“Have you slept with anybody here?”

“Two.”

“At the same time?”

“Ugh, I wish.” I asked her who and she peeked into the hallway to make sure no one was within earshot. “Trocheck when he first got here. Just once in the equipment room.”

“Who was the other one?”

“Is. Who is the other one?” She shot me a devilish smirk and held up two fingers, then seven.

“Svech?” She nodded and I grimaced. “He’s like nineteen years old.”

“He’s twenty.”

“He’s a baby!”

“And a god in bed.” A spike of jealousy shot through me and I sat back as she carried on with her brag. “I don’t know if it’s the stamina or the age but, Chloe, trust me when I say you gotta try it with a hockey player at least once in your life.”

“Try what?” Justin and Brady had darkened my doorway while she was talking and we both stilled, Laura’s cheeks reddening as I dissolved into a fit of laughter. Justin cleared his throat and repeated himself. “Try what with a hockey player?”

“I- um,” She was scrambling for an answer and I wiped at tears in my eyes as she turned to me, her own brightening as she came up with one. “Thai food.”

“Thai food?”

“Yeah, Chloe’s never- she hasn’t tried it yet. I keep telling her but she... won’t.”

“Why not?” They turned to me and I shrugged. “Does it matter who you eat with?”

“I think so.” She was floundering and I was fighting hard to keep it together behind my desk. Brady eyed me suspiciously before clearing his throat.

“We were gonna head out, grab a bite to eat. Care to join us?” He pointed at me. “We can get Thai food.”

Laura said yes but I declined, citing all the unpacking I had to do at my new place. I’d been cycling through the same four outfits I’d packed in my suitcase and most of them were in dire need of dry cleaning. They left with the promise to hold me to the rain check I asked for and I answered a few emails before turning off my computer, shoving it into my backpack along with the files Laura had brought me.

There was a quiet knock on the door and I looked up to find Dougie standing outside of my office. He took a step in and I stood up.

“You got a minute?”

“I was just leaving.”

“I’ll walk with you.” He took my backpack and started down the hall before I had a chance to protest. I locked my office and caught up with him by the elevator. We sat in an awkward silence and I mustered up the courage to break it, citing Laura’s advice for an apology.

“I’m sor-”

“I want to apologize.” We’d spoken at the same time and I stopped as he repeated himself, sincerity in his voice. “I shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s no excuse but I was really stoked to get back on the ice.” He held up his wrist and rolled it a few times, wincing. “This just... it sucks.”

“Laura told me what happened last year. You know it’s not your fault you guys got knocked out.”

“I wasn’t there for my team.”

“You can’t win games you don’t play in Dougie, and it wasn’t like you chose to sit out. A fracture is a serious injury.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And I get no pleasure taking athletes out of the game. But it’s my job to make sure you guys stay healthy so you can play.”

“You’re right. You were just doing your job.” I nodded and thanked him for his apology and we both stepped onto the elevator. He pressed the button for the parking garage and waited for the doors to shut before turning to me. “Your turn.”

We hit the garage and he followed me out, stopping when I pointed out my car. I unlocked it and waited as he dropped my bag into the back seat.

“About what you- what I said on Friday... it was unprofessional and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you said it or sorry I heard?”

“You wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t eavesdropping.”

“So the latter? Interesting.” He leaned against my car and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at me with a Cheshire grin. “Did you mean it? Your offer to uh, put a pillowcase over my head and... what was it? Raw you?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“You kinda just did.” I mirrored his pose and he stepped closer, close enough for me to get a whiff of his cologne. His shirt sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and I thought to ask him if he was flexing just for me before he spoke again. “What are you up to tonight? You wanna grab some dinner?”

“Tempting as that sounds, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” His face fell a bit and I offered another excuse. “I just have a lot of unpacking to do. I’ve been living out of boxes since I got here.”

“Another time then.”

“Sure.” He pushed off of my car and opened the door for me, holding it open as I slipped inside. I had the keys in the ignition when he leaned it, blue eyes on mine for a long few seconds. “Just for the record, I’d be down to try the pillowcase thing.”

“Duly noted.” He dropped his gaze to my lips for a brief glance and I found myself conflicted, half hoping he would lean in and kiss me. The other half won out by a slim margin and I started the car, offering him my sweetest smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#dougie hamilton fic #dougie hamilton imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #i just want to get to the good stuff #skip over it fic

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starlightments · 5 years

Text

PREVIEW: chapter one

written by: starlightment

When Lance moves back home to take over his grandmother’s highly-acclaimed coffee shop, he quickly realizes there’s a bigger issue than the struggle of carrying out his family legacy. Namely, his annoyingly handsome ex-boyfriend, who also happens to own the rowdy, customer-stealing gastropub that just opened up next door. Lance is determined to taste sweet success, but with memories of his romantic past making an unfortunate comeback, it seems like there might be more than just coffee brewing between them.

Language: English | Chapters: TBD | Art Credit: here

FANDOM: Voltron: Legendary Defender

RATING: Mature

PAIRING(S): Keith/Lance

“Really?” Keith balks outright.

With that, Lance pivots sharply on his heel, nose still hoisted high into the air as he returns to scrubbing the same spot on the countertop, over and over until his arm starts to ache from the exertion of it. And that’s that on that.

Or it would be, he thinks resentfully, if Keith’s eyes weren’t still drilling a hole through his back with all their stupid, stubborn, sparkly luster.

Not that Lance cares, anyway. He’s just making some objective observations here.

“Really, Lance?” Keith says after another beat of silence rolls by, slow and awkward and dreadful.

Lance continues to scrub with vigor.

“You’re seriously refusing to serve me.”

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

“So you’re not gonna — wow, okay.”

Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub.

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge —” A noise erupts from the back of Keith’s throat. Like a scoff, but uglier and more incredulous. “—fine.”

That’s when Lance hears shuffling, a bit of clattering and banging, which is suspicious enough to have him whirling around, just in time to witness Keith — the absolute scoundrel — vaulting himself clear over the counter, and carelessly knocking down several containers of artificial sweetener in the process.

Lance squawks, angry and shrill. “Wha —What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Oh, so you can see me,” sneers Keith. “What a relief.”

“Yeah, I see you, alright. I see you trying to put your grubby little fingerless-gloved hands all over my shiny new espresso machine like some kinda —”

Keith’s hands go all over the shiny new espresso machine, and Lance squawks again, arms flailing, eyes bulging. “Get away!” he cries.

“Wouldn’t wanna trouble you with actually doing your job, Lance, so I’ll just do it myself —”

“No, you most definitely will not, you — you can’t just —”

Shrugging, Keith examines the complicated-looking buttons on the front of the machine with profound intensity. “Pretty sure I can.”

“Don’t, or else I’ll — I’m gonna —” Lance splutters and stammers for an undignified handful of seconds. “ —call security on your sorry ass!”

Keith casts him a sideways glance, looking infuriatingly unthreatened, and says, “This is a coffee shop, Lance, you don’t have security.”

“Quit calling me that!” blurts Lance.

“What, your name?” Keith asks, annoyed.

“Yeah,” and Lance’s cheeks throb with a violent rush of heat. Hastily, he adds, “Quit — saying it so much!”

“What the hell am I supposed to call you, then?”

Then, as their gazes snag, all wild and brimming with unspoken challenges that part of him yearns to utter aloud, the weight of it drops in Lance’s gut, swift and soundless. And if he weren’t gripping the edge of the counter so tightly, it’d bring him to his knees, he swears, because it makes him feel weak and wanting in all the worst ways.

You used to call me so many lovely things, his mutinous mind starts to think. Soft things, tender things, that used to be whispered, prayer-like, against shared pillowcases and warm, moonlit skin on those dewy summer evenings. Things that used to cut him open, and run him dry, and pulse between the press of starving, kiss-bitten lips: sweetheart, gorgeous, my love, my life —

Keith stares at him, his expression all steel, piercingly gunmetal.

Lance swallows hard, swaying dizzily on his feet.

And then he’s shouting: “Code red! Hunk, I repeat, this is a — this is not a drill!”

Promptly, the kitchen door swings open to reveal a startled, wide-eyed Hunk with two plastic jugs clutched to his heaving chest. The whir of the electric mixer is still buzzing from inside the kitchen, and there’s a bit of cream-colored batter smudged against his chin.

“Sorry, Lance, I keep forgetting,” he pants, lifting the jugs. “Is that the one that means we’re out of soy milk?”

“It’s the one that means we have a societal menace —” Lance jabs a stern finger in Keith’s direction. “—trespassing in our place of business.”

Hunk’s eyes go ping-ponging back and forth between the pair until they settle, ultimately, on the menace in question. “Oh, uh — hey, man.”

“Hey, Hunk,” replies Keith. “How’ve you been?”

Lance gapes, scandalized. “Don’t fraternize with my employees while they’re on the clock!”

“How about I take care of that drink for you,” Hunk offers, carrying the soy milk over to the espresso machine, and calmly escorting Keith to the other side of the counter.

“That’d be great,” says Keith.

“So what’re you having today?”

One regular cappuccino with soy milk, light foam, Lance’s subconscious recites on instinct, and he hates himself for it. Just a little bit.

Keith leans easily against the counter, humoring Hunk with some very menial smalltalk while the drink is prepared to frothy perfection. Meanwhile, Lance starts to reassemble the sweetener display that Keith had so recklessly destroyed with his frustratingly defiant stunt earlier, and forces himself not to listen to their idle chattering. Because he doesn’t care. Keith chuckles quietly, and the sound ripples all the way down to Lance’s core, but he couldn’t care less about that.

Hunk snaps a lid onto the drink, and hands it to Keith, who hisses in discomfort when the first sip of scalding liquid burns his tongue. Idiot, Lance wants to snicker just as badly as he wants to grab his face, and soothe the pain away with a gentle kiss.

Lance does neither of those things.

“Thanks, Hunk,” says Keith.

“Sure, dude, anytime,” Hunk tells him, but a pointed, lightening-quick glare from Lance has him backtracking, “I mean, uh, y’know… within reason.”

Keith mutters, gaze darkening, “Right.”

And then he’s stomping toward the exit, coffee in hand, lingering just long enough at the door to call loudly across the empty shop, “Glad we can be mature about this, Lance.”

The door slams shut behind him so fiercely that the tiny bell screams overhead, toppling off its hook, and onto the floor with a depressing clink.

Very slowly, Hunk swivels his attention over to Lance, regarding him the way a mother might scold their disobedient child. Lance squirms a little bit.

“Buddy, you know I hate to say it, but —”

“Not a single word from you —”

“—I never thought Keith would ever be the one to bring out the worst in you.”

Lance hangs his head. He just stands there, saying nothing, and hangs his head low because it stings more than it probably should. And the last thing he wants is for Hunk to see the pain there, to catch him demonstrating the kind of pathetic heartache he still fears his friends believe he secretly suffers from, even after all this time.

“I’ll be in the back working on the rest of those puff pastries,” Hunk tells him, and gives Lance’s shoulder a comforting pat before disappearing into the kitchen. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Somehow, Lance musters the strength to nod. It feels like a rusty hinge, creaking and aching, just like his knee as he kicks the toe of his shoe uselessly against the floor. But maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to go now, he thinks miserably. Maybe this is it. Maybe it won’t ever stop hurting. Maybe the chasm has grown too wide, and maybe they’ve long forgotten all the extraordinary and devastating ways they used to love each other; the ways they used to light each other up from the inside-out. And maybe Lance’s worst is coming out because he never learned how to be his best without Keith by his side. Or —

With his back against the counter, Lance sinks to the floor, plopping himself down amongst the scattered pile of artificial sweeteners, and heaves a heavy, lung-rattling sigh.

—Or maybe Lance is just the worst.

#klance #klance fic #klance fanfic #klance fanfiction #star writes #fic preview #fic: syrup & honey #i know i already posted an announcement for this upcoming fic #but i wanted to share the first chapter preview this time!!#hope you enjoy!! <3

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thirteen-beaxhes · 4 years

Text

Number One (A Redky One-Shot)

Summary: Red thinks if he distances himself from Ricky, he wouldn't notice. What? It's not like Ricky even deserved a friend like him.

Words: 2407

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~~~

Staring up at the ceiling, the light of the streetlight still filtering in through the window that stood at level with the street, Big Red watching it move as cars passed by every so often. He should have been asleep hours ago, but something in him was keeping him awake. And he knew exactly what it was.

“Hey Ash?” Red asked, walking up to Ashlyn who just said goodbye to Bianca.

“Yeah, Red?” she said, turning around to look at him, tilting her head.

“Have, have you seen Ricky around?” he asked curiously, eyes flitting around the room. “I got up to dance with you guys and Carlos and he wasn’t anywhere. He’s my ride home.”

Ashlyn looked him over, a weird, almost knowing expression on her face. She sighed, looking over her shoulder at the door. Red furrowed his eyebrows, confusion about her hesitation filling in him.

“He, he left,” she muttered, looking at him sadly. “With Gina.”

Red narrowed his eyes, sure that he had just heard her wrong, or Ricky was pranking him and Ashlyn was in on it, trying to get a reaction out of him. But soon, the crease on his forehead smoothened, when he saw her purse her lips, and he knew. She was telling the truth.

“O-Oh,” is all he mumbled. He took a shaky step back, nodding to himself. Ashlyn sighed, wrapping an arm around him shoulder, pulling him close.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but Red just let out a short, emotionless laugh.

“Why?” he asked sadly. “I kinda knew that would happen.”

Red sighed, turning over in his bed, clinging his pillow. He had always wondered how on earth someone like him had ended up with a friend as cool as Ricky Bowen. Ricky Bowen who was skated like a pro, played guitar like he was born with the talent, could even sing like a dream, and had landed himself the lead in a musical without knowing a thing about them. Ricky Bowen who still came to talk to him and nerd out about video games, watch videos with him, teach him cool skating tricks. Ricky Bowen who let his problems out for Red to see and caught the ones Red himself let out. Ricky Bowen who had always been out of his league in every category, and he still wanted him as a friend.

But Big Red also wasn’t stupid, like he seemed at times. He could tell how what he said seemed to annoy Ricky most of the time, and was the wrong thing to be said in that situation. He knew how he wasn’t the first person Ricky would go to if he needed anything, that was Nini. He couldn’t help but feel Ricky want to find a way to leave or be alone as soon as possible when he was around him.

Okay, if he kept listing this stuff out he would not stop crying, Red told himself, sniffing as he wiped away his tears that had begun to soak his pillowcase.

What if he started to distance himself from Ricky, his mind prodded, the thought having come from almost nowhere. Red sat up, leaning against his headboard.

That literally made no sense, he chided himself. Ricky was his best friend, his number one. He couldn’t just distance himself from him because he was insecure and stupid.

But he wasn’t Ricky’s number one. And so far, with all the Nini drama and chasing to get her back, he didn’t need Red, a small part of him said when everything went quiet. Red’s eyes went wide, and he let out a shaky breath, confirming it to himself. He didn’t like what he was trying to do, but at that moment he needed to protect himself more than anything.

It wasn’t like Ricky would even notice he was drifting.

5 days later

“Hey there man!”

Red looked up as he stared at his locker, his breath cutting short as he recognised the voice that was coming. He shut his locker, grasping his skateboard lightly as he turned to look at Ricky, who was smiling at him with his characteristic charm.

“Hey Ricky,” Red muttered, flashing a small smile. To him, Ricky didn’t seem to notice and walked ahead, starting to talk. But Red stood there, looking the other way.

“Red?” Ricky asked when he noticed when he wasn’t by his side, looking back to where he stood. “You’re coming right?”

“Um,” Red muttered, looking back frantically before looking in Ricky’s direction, not meeting his eyes. “I, I can’t. Homework, chores, you know,” he mumbled, starting to walk away.

“But, it’s Wednesday,” Ricky said quietly, his voice unsure. “We always hit the skatepark together on Wednesday after school,” he said sadly, turning to look at Red. “Even if we have an exam the next day.”

“I, I’m sorry man,” Red muttered, shaking his head. “It’s just, a lot of work,” he said quietly.

“You’ve been bailing on me almost every day now,” Ricky muttered sadly, and Red almost wanted to walk ahead, grab his skateboard and run with him to the skate park. But he had to keep that promise to himself. Besides, he was probably just asking Red to come because Nini had Spanish class on Wednesday and today’s scene only required Gina and EJ, so Gina was off the table for hanging out.

Red steadied his breath, walking down the hallway. “I’m sorry man,” he mumbled, before making his way home as quick as possible.

Ricky watched Red walk quickly away, feeling that heavy feeling in his gut that he hated with all parts of him. He had felt it before, when he could hear his parents fighting through his bedroom walls, when Nini told him she had moved on and was dating someone else. He had just never expected to feel it around Red.

Was it just him being stupid, Ricky thought to himself as he put on his helmet and began to make his way home. Or was Big Red avoiding him for some reason?

But if he was, why? What had happened? What had Ricky done?

“Hey Ash,” Red said, holding up the phone as Ashlyn waved back at him through the camera.

“How are you doing, bud?” she said softly, and Red sighed, looking down.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “I made a decision to myself the night of homecoming, and it’s been harder than I thought keeping up with it.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. Red sighed, looking up at the ceiling, lying on his bed as he held his phone up.

“I decided to start distancing myself from Ricky,” he said.

“You what?!” Ashlyn said loudly, before clapping a hand over her mouth. “You what?” she asked again, her voice at a lower pitch.

Red sighed. “I don’t know! I was just up all night thinking, and it just hurts Ash,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. “It hurts to know that I’m not one of the first people in his life, even if that sounds insane!” he said with a sad laugh. “While, to me, I would trust him with everything first.”

“I get that,” Ashlyn said softly, her words comforting. “But isolating yourself? I don’t think that’s the solution.”

“Well, it’s working out so far,” Red said, trying to put a smile on his face. But Ashlyn stared at him through the camera.

“Is it?” she asked plainly. Red sighed, shaking his head.

“At this point, I need it to,” he said sadly, and Ashlyn sighed.

“Well, I’m here for you if you ever need to talk, okay?” she said, and red smiled.

“Thanks Ash,” he said, bringing the phone closer. “You’re the best Ash,” he whispered.

“Love you,” Ashlyn whispered, blowing kisses as Red cut the call.

God, he hoped it would work, because this ‘distancing’ thing might end up killing him.

Whatever Red was doing, it was killing Ricky.

After rehearsal was done that day, Ricky noticed Red shoulder his bag and leave immediately, without even a glance toward him. He felt his heart sink, and he blinked away tears as he headed over to Ashlyn.

“Ash?” he asked quietly, and Ashlyn looked up from her script, pushing her glasses back.

“What’s up, Ricky?” she asked with a bright smile that softened when she saw the sad look in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Can, can we talk outside?” he asked, his voice cracking. Ashlyn nodded, gathering her stuff and following Ricky outside, who stood by the lockers, sniffing.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking at him in concern.

Ricky sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Do you know if Big Red is avoiding me?”

As soon as he asked that, Ashlyn’s eyes went wide and she straightened up, looking beyond Ricky to try and avoid his eye. “N-No! Why would you think that?”

Ricky sighed, looking away. “So he is avoiding me,” he mumbled, leaning against the locker. He pushed his hair back, letting out a shaky breath.

Ashlyn sighed, walking close to him, grabbing his arm. “I mean, I know why he’s doing it, and I don’t know. I kinda get him?” she said softly.

Ricky looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. “What?” he gasped. “Why is he doing it? Why is my best friend avoiding me Ash?”

Ashlyn took a deep breath, dropping her hand. “After you left with Gina on Homecoming, Red was looking around for you. And I told him where you were, and his face just dropped. I’ve never seen someone lose hope so fast,” she mumbled the last part to herself.

“What?” Ricky whispered, feeling his heart sink.

Ashlyn nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. “I was video calling him yesterday and he said he was trying to distance himself from you.”

Ricky looked taken aback, leaning back as a tear escaped his eye. Ashlyn reached out to grab his hand, trying to keep his with the conversation.

“Ricky,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “The reason he said he was doing it was because he felt like he needed to protect himself from getting hurt. Because you were one of the first people in his life, but he didn’t think you thought the same about him.”

“What?” Ricky croaked out, letting a tear roll down his cheek. “He said that?”

Ashlyn nodded, looking at Ricky intently. “That is not true is it?” she asked, and Ricky vehemently shook his head.

“Of course not!” he said indignantly. “Red is literally the most important person to me! I, I can’t imagine my days without him by my side! He is my best friend!” Ricky started to say loudly, his voice cracking on the word ‘friend’.

Ashlyn sniffed, pushing him. “Then tell him, you idiot!” she said, pushing him to the door.

Ricky nodded, quickly putting on his helmet as he skated as fast as he could to Red’s house.

Red dumped his bag on the floor, rubbing his eyes that had been dried of tears as he collapsed onto his beanbag, ready to play video games. However, before he put on his headphones, he heard the door open and loud footsteps down the stairs to his room and…

Ricky.

Red set down his headphones, getting up off the beanbag, staring at Ricky, who was panting, tears down his face. “Ricky?” he whispered, and Ricky looked up, taking in a gulp of air.

“I talked to Ash,” Ricky said, his words barely louder than a gasping whisper. “She told m you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Ricky, I,” Red started to say, looking away, but Ricky held out his hand, bouncing on the balls of his heels.

“She told me the reason you were doing it,” he said quietly. “Was because you were protecting yourself from me. Because you thought I didn’t think of you as one of the first people in my life, like you think of me as one of yours.”

Red shrugged, looking down. “I thought if I distanced myself, you wouldn’t notice. Between Gina and Nini and…”

Ricky scoffed, wiping away a tear. “Gina and Nini don’t matter dude!” he said loudly, gesturing wildly. “I, I, I could care less whether they even existed or not!”

“I don’t know it, it just seems you’d rather be with them than me,” red said quietly, scratching the inside of his thumb. “Which is fair, they’re friends who you actually deserve, you know?”

“No! I don’t know!” Ricky said in frustration, looking at Red. “What do you mean when you say they are the friends I deserve?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Red said bitterly. “They are talented, and cool, and they can actually match you in every way, and I’m just useless,” he said sadly.

“That is the furthest thing from the truth,” Ricky said, his voice breaking as he walked up to Red. “I don’t care if you confuse theatre terms neither of us know, or don’t sing. That isn’t why you are my best friend.”

“Why am I your best friend then Ricky?” Red asked sadly, looking up with tears in his eyes.

Ricky looked up at the roof, placing both his hands on Red’s shoulders. “You have been there for me through everything. You always have my back. You always have a place for me to stay when things go to hell at home. You keep me down on Earth when I start talking crazy. You and I are best friends against the world.”

Red looked up slowly, a small smile poking its way on his face. “You don’t get annoyed by everything I say like I think?”

Ricky let out a small, watery laugh, shaking his head. “No, dude. I love it when you say things like that.” His smile fell a bit, looking at Red. “Look, I, I’m not good at talking about how I feel, okay?”

Red nodded, looking down. But Ricky, lifted his chin, making him look him in the eye. “But I need you to remember,” he said. “You are always number one in my life, okay?”

Red smiled, hugging Ricky as tight as he could, tears wetting his sweatshirt. Ricky also cried into his shirt, relieved.

“You’re number one in my life too, Ricky,” Red whispered, and Ricky nodded against his shirt, not letting go for a while.

~~~~~~~~

this was fast and bad

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts fic #big red #ricky bowen #big red x ricky bowen #redky #redky fic #fanfic #fanfiction #high school musical: the musical: the series

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ziracona · 4 years

Note

THE OFFICIAL DBD STORE SELLS A HUNTRESS (and shirtless david) BODY PILLOW AND IM 👀👀👀👀👀👀👌👌👌👌

Keep ‘em comin’ lads

(Haha. I do gotta say tho Anon, if you want a body pillow for DbD, please consider getting a custom one instead. I think you’d actually like it much better! The rest was meant to be under a cut but tumblr is the dumbest shit site coding wise & I made this on mobile, which will not allow you to add read mores anymore. In past this has been no problem bc I can just save as a draft & edit + post on my laptop or edit the second I post & throw in a read-more but apparently now if you make a post on mobile you can never edit it in desktop again. : ) I love that. So fucking much! But this is going to be long now & I physically cannot fix that bc it also won’t let me swap it to html now it’s posted : ) : ) : ) fuck this site : ) —anyway! On a brighter note, here’s my pitch:

Okay! So to start.

First up. Let’s look at what the devs are offering you.

Here are the official body pillows. Now, these aren’t the worst pictures of Anna and David I’ve ever seen, but they’re not great. David’s in his default queue pose, I got no idea wtf Anna’s doing, and neither of them have interesting, good, or attractive poses, lighting, expressions, or detail. Considering this is decently funded company with multiple artists on staff and full body 3D adjustable rendered models of Anna & David on every computer there, it’s lazy as hell. It’s not even as good art as their official sketches or character renders or promo art. They know how to do the work:

They’re just being lazy.

Okay, though, but you really want a body pillow, so what to do? Well, maybe it’ll be cheap enough you don’t care about the quality too much. So, how much will this cost you? For me to ship to myself in the us with the cheapest shipping option, Anna would cost me $80.

Okay, so. That sucks. But you really want this and what else can you do? There’s nothing else to pick.

OH WAIT. Yes there is! So here’s some actually good news for ya 💪

If you want a custom body pillow, you have two options: 1, buy a custom pillow case and a pillow separately, or 2, buy a custom pillow with the image on the pillow print itself. Now, you can get the second option, but it is exponentially more expensive. I’ve seen maybe 60something-70 as the cheapest option for this, although I didn’t spend a ton of time looking. Still, if you want to go full hog, it’s possible. If you don’t mind a pillowcase/the cheaper option, though, (and many pillow cases are custom to the exact specified pillow size and aren’t really noticeable at all), it’s a good deal. For example: A body pillow can be bought at many stores for about 15 bucks. There is some variance in pricing for size, shape, and material, but here I’d like to add the official DbD site doesn’t even list dimensions for their body pillow, let alone material. So, for me to get what I want if I wanted this, I could buy a $15 pillow at a store, and then a pillowcase from a place that I could get it custom made & delivered, IE price + shipping is $30 from here https://www.etsy.com/listing/653983430/custom-21-x-60-zipper-body-pillowcase?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=custom+body+pillow&ref=sr_gallery-1-1&bes=1

So we’re at about $45 right now. (eBay offers cheaper custom pillowcase options but I didn’t want to try to vet sellers for quality & reliability making this post & this is a good price).

This leaves about $35 to commission an artist for something to put on the pillow case. Now, price for commission varies greatly from artist to artist, and full body is the most expensive base option for a single subject, but there’s definitely people offering really freaking incredible commissions at this price, and sometimes even lower. Even though their art should really be worth more than that. Unfortunately, we artists gotta eat. And a lot of the people who buy commissions are also young adults who gotta eat and don’t have a ton of cash. 🤷🏻‍♀️ So there’s a lot of people who’d be genuinely very happy to be paid for that commission even though it kinda sucks we be there. And if you want to commission someone more expensive, sure you’ll be spending more on the body pillow than DbD officials $80ish. But uh. Would you rather give the same devs who picked the most racist Claudette design they could put into the game for the most recent costume contest $80 for one of these:

Spend $37 for a David of @eggchef ‘s lookin this kinda fine:

https://eggchef.tumblr.com/post/190185302972/david-and-jake-are-both-just-rich-kids-who-said

$40 for a full body Anna of @guud-night ‘s in the style they did this: https://guud-night.tumblr.com/post/185148722468/summer

Or $42 for a full body Anna like this one by @sleazy-art https://sleazy-art.tumblr.com/post/169548091038

or $70 for a full body of @guud-night ‘s in the style of this Anna seen here https://guud-night.tumblr.com/post/165476621798/the-huntress

The fan artists do better work—I mean think of how amazing a pillow could look if your heart cries for one. Vs the low-grade renders the devs be offering. They do so much better it’s like a “Look at your body pillow. Now look at the body pillow the devs told you not to worry about” meme it truly is. TBH, you could screenshot a DbD store screen with Anna or David, edit out the BG in photoshop, and already have a better 3D image than the official offering. 😂 And with an artist? 👌 Mmmmm. Anyway, haha. There was my in-depth pitch to buy from fans instead of official. I was just very motivated to *Robin Williams Genie voice* Illuminate the possibilities! I hope it may have given you inspiration for something even more beautiful than what you thought your heart desired :’-)

#ask #anonymous #dead by daylight #i was gonna just link to posts but auto image for that kept being torsos so i screenshotted blogs including poster/description #& put that with the link each time. so #visual references of artist works are clearly screenshots of the blog in question instead of just the art itself & are lower quality #screenshots. also linked to post in question each time. however! if you dont want the screenshot up in this ask answer or do not want to be #tagged in it @ the three artists i tagged. just message me & as soon as i see the messgae ill take it down #you were all good artists whose commision info id seen/remembered & had David/Anna art up so i wanted to toss the lead your way if anon be #on the prowl for some good ass art commissions #body pillows w charcaters on them actually scare me lol #but i know theyre wildly popular so I guess thats a minority take haha #anon i saw this ask at like 4 am and it was the funniest possible thjng to see at 4am thank you #long post

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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988

survey by ashleybayle

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? Yeah. The most popular opinion I get is Anna Akana and a local singer named Kakie, and then more occasionally I’ve also gotten Lucy Hale. Of course, all of these people are absolutely gorgeous though so it’s hard to accept comments like these lol

When was the last time you got something done to your hair? Professionally, late February. But I trimmed my bangs last Saturday.

Do you have any change on you right now? Barely. I only have a few 1-peso coins and a couple of 25-cent coins left.

What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? They’re pink with white lines.

Do you have a favorite day of the week? I like Monday mornings because we have weekly video calls for work and it’s really the only time I get to talk to other people anymore. Even if I can’t really count any of my colleagues as my friends, I’m able to get the human connection I’ve been hungry for and it always leaves me feeling good for the rest of the day.

Cutting your hair extremely short, would you do it? Yeah. That’s what I did last February; I’d do it again once my hair gets too long. I’ll probably go even shorter the next time because depression.

Have you ever been in an art show? I’ve been to art exhibits, if you’re referring to the same thing.

Would you considered yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? I was sheltered for most of my life but I’ve been trying to get exposed to more scary life things so that I slowly start to detach from people I used to normally depend on, like my parents.

How high is your pain tolerance? Not high at all. I bruise like a peach and have near-meltdowns over sharp objects especially if I get pricked by one.

Have you ever played the game Halo? I don’t think so. I could have watched others play it in the past, but I’ve never played the game myself.

Are you wearing any jewelry at the moment? No I’m not.

Is there a sport that you love to play? Table tennis! Futsal was also fun the one or two times I played it, and it was in playing that sport that I learned I apparently make a good goalkeeper. In an alternate universe I probably play football, ha.

Has anything made you sad in the past 48 hours? Yes. That’s a constant state of mind now.

Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? Yes. We were required to do so many skits in high school so making scripts and memorizing lines was part of a normal day.

Do you like your nose? I’ve never complained about it. I don’t normally think about my nose either.

Is there a hair color you prefer on the opposite sex? No.

Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I’ve never tried it, so I don’t have a solid opinion.

Would you ever like to be a stunt person? Sounds fun but I’m barely physically fit for such a role and I’d break a bone almost immediately. Even professional stunt people get injured, so...

Are you a pyromaniac? The furthest thing from it. I’m terrified of fire.

How soon is your birthday? Six months and a day.

Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? Isn’t everyone prone to doing that once in a while? But yeah, I guess I’m ‘one of those’ people.

Can any of your friends sing very well? Lots of em. Hannah, Tina, Ed, Andi, Michelle, Nacho, etc.

Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? That does not sound interesting to me.

Do you have piano fingers? No :(

What is your preferred curse word? Fuck.

When someone's drunk, the truth comes spilling out, correct? I guess, for some people. Other people express their drunkenness in other ways. But I for sure lose my filter once I’m drunk; it’s a lot easier to ask me questions once I’ve had a few glasses, ha.

Have you ever shouted something random at someone out a car window? I’m sure I’ve rolled down my windows to cuss out a stupid driver once or twice.

Have you ever slept on a beach? No. I know my mom does, but I personally find it risky/dangerous. When it comes to open spaces like the beach, I find it hard to trust people to not be thieves.

Would you like to be taller? It’s not an active wish of mine. It’d always be cool to be taller, but I’m also okay with my current height.

Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? Not necessarily. I wouldn’t say I’m attracted to them.

Have you ever listened to Celtic music? Nope.

Do you enjoy making up words? I’ve never done that, no.

Have you ever been attacked by an animal? Aside from the time a giant bird kind of charged at me at a safari and getting playbites from Cooper, no. Cats hiss at me all the time, but I get out of their vicinity before they can attack me or whatever.

Who did you dance with last? Rita, Blanch, Mik, Laurice, Jum, a bunch of strangers.

When holding hands, do you intertwine fingers? Yeah. That’s my favorite.

Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? This is gonna get some eyerolls but...Titanic. Forever one of my faves no matter how overrated people find it, hahaha. The “Rose Dawson” scene gets me all the time.

Do you ever talk to the TV? I mean if I have comments about the show I’m watching, yeah I guess I’m technically talking to the TV. But I don’t talk to the TV like a camera, if that’s what you mean.

What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? I feel for him and all the shit he’s gone through with Amber Heard. I’ll always feel bad for having sided with Amber in the past. Movie-wise, not really a fan of his repertoire but I respect his craft and abilities nonetheless.

Have you ever watched the Tudors? Nah but I hear of it a lot, so I’ve always been interested.

Can you speak in different accents? No. My dad’s super good at accents though since he travels a lot for his job. He can do American, Indian, Singaporean, Chinese, Australian, etc.

Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? The annoying person at the BIR who wasted my time.

If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? I’d say it’s inconvenient, but it’s not the worst of my worries whenever it strikes.

Can you sew or knit? No but I’ve made up my mind about learning how to :) I put some cross-stitch kits on my online shopping cart recently and I can’t wait to get my hands busy.

Do you have a favorite pair of jeans? Yesssss. They’re the only pair of jeans I wear these days, on the rare times I have a reason to go out.

What size shirt do you normally wear? XS.

Are you good with money? I’m good with saving if I absolutely have to, but I’m equally good at spending all my money in one go lol

Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? No. Don’t know how well I’d fare in that; I tend to freeze up and forget words when I’m terrified.

What is the first letter of the person's name you last kissed? G.

Do you use myspace for following celebrities, and facebook for friends? I never regularly used Myspace, and Facebook is for sharing memes, staying updated on the news, and connecting with family and friends. At least up until I deactivated last month.

Have you ever written a song? Maybe in grade school when it was an assignment for class, but never on my own time.

Do you believe there is life on other planets? Other planets in other galaxies perhaps in other universes, sure.

If you think about the universe long enough, it's baffling isn't it? Doesn’t take long for me, but yes it is.

When was the last time you fell? I haven’t in a while.

Are you a fan of Christian Bale? I wouldn’t say so. I don’t think I’ve seen any of his movies. I’ve been meaning to watch American Psycho for years but just never got around to it.

Do you have any sort of debt? No.

Is there an accent you prefer? I don’t know if prefer is the right word since I don’t have any favorite accents, but hmmm I can listen to Florence Pugh’s accent all day.

Have you spoken to the person you love today? Yep.

Would you ever travel to Los Angeles? If given the chance sure, but I honestly prefer other cities.

Have you ever been through a natural disaster? A lot of them.

Is there a specific time period that interests you? I don’t think I’ve ever been hooked to just one specific era...I’m interested in all of them and read about them an equal amount.

Do any of your friends own an expensive car? JM used to drive a Lexus to school on Fridays.

Have you ever been on a train? Just once. I had to go to Manila for a journalism class but I wasn’t willing to drive all the way there, so I took a train and had Jum keep me company because I didn’t know how commuting worked.

Is there a memory that embarasses you to think about? I mean yeah, there are a lot.

Have you ever used different colored paper clips? Possibly.

Where exactly are you right now? In a corner in my room.

Don't you admire those people who know exactly what they want to do? I admire anyone who’s able to make the best of what they’ve got, no matter what their progress is in life. Life shouldn’t be a contest of who gets their shit figured out the earliest or the best way possible.

Is there a guy you can talk to about anything? No.

Have you ever been in a parade? I know I said in a previous survey that I haven’t been to a parade, but now that I think about it I’ve been to several Pride Marches, which kinda count as parades...so yeah, I have been.

Would you ever consider being a news reporter? My entire family wanted me to end up being one, but it was never an interest of mine. I was just too shy to tell them that that’s not really my goal. I like staying behind the camera for the most part.

Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? Yes and yes, I know several people who are.

Has anyone ever told you to "get a grip"? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten those exact words before.

Do people say you look your age? Or younger or older? Younger.

Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? Kind of. Five years ago my friend Heather and I were at YouTube Fanfest where Joe Sugg, Caspar Lee, and Oli White were part of the line-up, and we didn’t anticipate that so many fans would come with gifts even though there was no guarantee of meeting them. We came up with a little gift of our own, which was really nothing more than a tiny post-it saying that we love them lmao (we went to the venue straight after school, hence Heather having school supplies HAHA). It was such a poor-looking gift. We went to their assistant who was SUPER nice about it and didn’t make us feel like shit for our gift which was pretty much worthless and could easily get lost – it was literally a piece of post-it. I doubt it ever got to them, but we gave it a shot anyway.

Are you ashamed of how you acted when you were younger? Some parts of it, definitely. I grew up in a violent household, so I was violent towards my brother when he was a baby, not knowing how serious my actions were. I was also a pain in the ass while I was going through puberty.

Do you ever have those days where you feel you're the ugliest person ever? Yes.

Beauty is both external and internal, correct? Sure.

Have you ever been in a musical? Yeah, in grade school through high school. Never had a solo role, though.

When was the last time you swam in a pool? July 2019.

Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? Angela’s. At one point, Katreen’s too, before we grew apart.

How do you know someone is your best friend? When I don’t feel like filtering my words around them, and when I allow myself to be fully vulnerable with them.

When was the last time you used a highlighter? Sometime in February I’m guessing. Before the lockdown and when I still went to school and had readings.

Has a flashlight ever ran out batteries on you in the dark? I don’t think so.

#survey #surveys

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ladyseaheart1668 · 4 years

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Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 46)

Description: The captive Catalysts struggle to keep it together. Tahira fights a battle of her own. Meanwhile, Zahra receives a break in the case.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Jake

I don't know exactly what to expect after I feel the wheels touch down and the plane slows to a halt. I guess I'm not surprised when the armored goons who stomp into the bathroom gag us and shove our heads into dark flannel pillowcases before dragging us upright. Makes sense that they don't want us to know where we are—or call out to anyone who might be passing. But that doesn't mean I'm not keeping alert. The landing was rough. Rougher than I would have expected on a sky-worthy private jet. The angle we landed at was steeper than expected, too.

The staircase getting us down is narrow. So narrow that my armored escorts have to move into file ahead and behind me, and I can feel the handrails on either side if I just lean one way or the other a couple inches. The goon ahead of me must be taking the steps backward, because there's something sharp pressed to the soft flesh just under my sternum, just hard enough for me to feel its point. There's also what's unmistakeably the barrel of a pistol at the nape of my neck. They don't say anything. They don't have to. The warning is clear: don't try any shit.

After the bottom step, I set my food down on a surface that doesn't feel like tarmac or asphalt. It's soft. Dirt. Or grass. Explains the steep-angled landing—and it tells me that the plane transporting us has to be smaller than I was originally imagining. The air on my exposed skin is warm. Humid. Unfortunately, I can't notice any distinct smell to it. There's not much penetrating whatever fruit-scented detergent this pillowcase was washed in before my head was jammed into it. ...Which is either coincidence, and whatever pillowcases they grabbed before starting just happened to come straight from the wash...or there's actually a distinctive smell to this place that they're purposely hiding.

Wherever the plane landed, it isn't far from where they plan to hold us. It's only about ten minutes of being shoved along before I hear a door creak and the heat and humidity is replaced by the sudden icy chill of air conditioning turned on full-blast. I lose track of myself for a moment, but before long, I'm shoved hard from behind. My knees buckle under the assault and connect sharply with a cold concrete floor.

I'm almost surprised when I hear a key click, and the cuffs fall from my wrists. I immediately yank the pillowcase off my head and go for the gag at my mouth, but by the time I've gotten both off and oriented myself, I realize that Sean, Michelle, and I have been locked inside what appears to be an industrial tool cage in a warehouse somewhere, lit by a single lightbulb directly above us—and the goons who dragged us in here are all on the other side of the bars. They don't seem to be leaving immediately, so I stand and turn slowly to face them, glaring.

“Where is your boss?” I growl. “I have a couple questions for him.”

“Yeah, Wolf. Kinda figured you would.” Lundgren's voice hits me like a fist in my gut. He appears first as the cherry-red tip of his cigar gleaming in the dim light beyond the cage before emerging where I can see him. He pulls the cigar from between his teeth and blows a pungent cloud in my direction. I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to cough.

“Where are Mike and my wife, you piece of shit?”

“Darwin's around. Behave yourself, and maybe I'll let him say goodbye before I beat your brains out.”

“What the fuck is this, Lundgren?”

“What the fuck do you think it is? It's revenge. Everything you boys did to me, you think I haven't been dreaming of this moment for the last five years?”

“You got what you deserved, you rat bastard!” I snarl.

“And you'll get yours soon enough, Wolf. I can guarantee that.”

I step up to the barrier between us, the fence of thick wire. I grip at the links, locking eyes with Lundgren.

“I know you aren't in this alone, Lundgren. You died and left a body behind same as Rourke, but that wasn't you. That wasn't the you that's here right now. You're not nearly smart enough to pull that stunt on your own. I know Jeanine was the one who took my wife. So I gotta figure you're both back in Rourke's pocket.” I lean forward slightly, my voice low. “Where is she, Lundgren? Where is my wife?”

“Ahh, right. Alodia. Cute little blonde cunt. Pretty face hides a goddamn superweapon living in a devious bitch. Rourke's beautiful 'mystery,' the key to everything. I'm impressed you managed to knock her up. She looks human enough, but I wouldn't have been surprised to find her kind had crystal teeth down there.” He takes a long drag on his cigar and exhales luxuriously before grinning at me. “Don't worry, Wolf. You'll see her again. I want you to have a front row seat when Rourke cuts the brat out of her. ...I want to watch you watch her die.”

The rage that surges through me is white-hot and blinding, and it swallows my conscious self. I can hear myself screaming, an animalistic howl as I rattle the bars with all my strength, beating the sides of my fists against the metal frame of the locked door. I throw my whole weight into the door again and again until something drags me off, holds me back, pins my arms to my side.

“Easy!” Sean hisses in my ear, holding me firmly. “You're gonna hurt yourself more than him like that!”

I slowly settle, my breath quivering. He's right. As my rage cools to a controlled simmer, I can feel the throbbing at various points where I connected with a metal support pole or the door frame. When he's satisfied that I'm in control, Sean releases me, though he keeps his hands steadyingly on my shoulders. I raise my head to find Lundgren grinning like a kid who's found the cookie jar.

“Thing is...you and Mouse are the only ones Rourke promised me. He might have plans for the lovebirds in there, but I doubt they're gonna be anything but leverage to keep your baby mama in line. And he might not need 'em at all. Maybe I should check. ...Maybe he'll let me kill 'em in front of you as a warm up.”

“You put us in a room together, asshat,” I snarl. “That means you'll have to fight me to get to my friends.”

He shrugs. “That sounds like it could be fun.” Without another word, he turns and marches out of the room, leaving four armored goons standing guard with rifles ready.

There are tears coming to my eyes. I scrub at them furiously with my forearm as I pull away from Sean and look around desperately for something to kick or punch in this room. The only thing here is a metal bucket. Probably our piss bucket, but it's empty at the moment, so I kick it viciously into the wire wall, making the cage rattle. Then I sink to my knees.

“...Rourke isn't going to kill Alodia,” Michelle says softly.

“Damn straight, he's not!” I growl through my tears. “I won't let him. I'll find a way to get to her. I'll protect her.”

“Of course. But I actually meant that I don't think killing her is in his plans.”

“You don't?” Sean asks.

“Think about it. Sure, Lundgren's out for revenge, but from everything we know, isn't it more likely that Rourke's going to try to restart Project Janus? We don't know exactly what kind of power Alodia has in her current incarnation, but I find it hard to believe he's just going to kill her when she's probably more useful to him alive.”

“That doesn't exactly make it all better,” I mutter. “Alive is better than dead, but it doesn't mean she's not suffering right now. And River...and Mike...”

Sean kneels to put a hand on my shoulder. “...Jake's right, Michelle. We gotta find a way out of here, ASAP.”

Bernadette McKenzie

The local time is about 5:30am when the plane from Louisiana touches down in California. The flight is virtually empty. Frank and I meet our daughter at the baggage carousel with fierce hugs, collect our meager luggage, and pile into her car to make the trip to Laguna Beach.

“How was the flight?” Rebecca asks.

“Smooth,” I reply softly. “No troubles.”

“What's the latest news on your brother?” Frank asks.

“They've got various coast guard ships scouring the Caribbean for the yacht he took off on. Apparently, he made it to La Huerta and he and his friends set sail from there okay, but then the signal got lost about an hour north of there.”

“...What about Alodia and her friend?”

“...Everyone's looking into ambulances that have been reported missing in California in recent weeks. There are a couple promising VINs, but there's always a possibility that the license plates were switched.” Rebecca shakes her head. “...I think we're dealing with pros here, Mom. ...No one really looks at an ambulance speeding by with its lights on. No one wants to delay them in case there's a real medical emergency they're dealing with. Procuring one wouldn't have been easy, but once they had one, it was the perfect way to transport captives.”

“I don't understand,” Frank murmurs. “I don't understand why. Why Jake? Why his partner? Why their friends? And why all at once like this? Did they really think none of them would be missed? Or are they trying to send some kind of message?”

“I don't think the why matters, Frank,” I say softly. “...I just want my boy back. I want him back, and his partner, and our little granddaughter, and all their friends.”

“That's all I want, too,” Frank assures me. “...But I also want to know why.”

* * *

The house in Laguna Beach is unlike anything I've ever seen in person before. Under normal circumstances, I would be intimidated—even put off—by the obvious wealth put into such a place. But not today. Today, I don't see the house as containing folks with millions of dollars more than me. Today, I see it as the house containing scared parents—or legal guardians as the case may be, but the point stands. In this gleaming mansion are the frightened family of the woman my son loves—the people who raised the mother of my unborn granddaughter.

Rebecca lets us in. Apparently, they gave her a key, at least while she's staying here with them. The house is quiet, though there are faint sounds coming from a room near the back. We drop our bags in the front hall and Rebecca shows us where to hang our jackets before we make our way through the lower level of the house, following the sounds to a rec room. The light from a massive, wall-mounted television flickers across the floor as a news channel with a droning newscaster plays at a volume I would consider slightly too loud. A woman in a bathrobe lies motionless on the pristine French-style sofa, the screen reflecting in her sapphire-blue eyes. I know immediately who she is. She looks so very much like her niece.

“...Molly Fisher?” I venture, hoping I remembered her name correctly. She looks up at me with weary eyes. I think I can see her summoning the will to greet us. I hold up a hand. “...No need to get up. We're all in the same boat here. ...I'm Bernadette MacKenzie. This is my husband, Frank. ...We're Jake's parents.”

“...And grandparents to my niece's child,” Molly murmurs with a sigh. “...The only living grandparents that little girl has.”

“--Next up, an unusual and alarming string of suspected kidnappings involving a pregnant woman, a best-selling author, two former Navy pilots, an NFL quarterback, and his new wife.” The news segment captures everyone's attention as it starts up. “28-year-old Alodia Chandler of Laguna Beach, California; as well as her housemate and long-time friend Diego Soto, also 28, both went missing yesterday afternoon within hours of each other. Mr. Soto and Ms. Chandler—who is currently 36 weeks pregnant—intended to meet for lunch in Riverside, where they both grew up, and where Ms. Chandler is working as a dance teacher, but they never made it to their rendezvous. Around the same time, Ms. Chandler's partner, 33-year-old Jacob MacKenzie, as well as their three friends, Michael Darwin, aged 32; Sean Gayle, aged 28; and Michelle Nguyen Gayle, aged 28, were all reported missing in the vicinity of the Caribbean islands. Now, details are still emerging on all of these disappearances, but it does appear that Mr. Darwin and Mr. MacKenzie were escorting Mr. and Mrs. Gayle off the island of La Huerta, where they had spent part of their honeymoon. All six victims were part of the infamous Vacation Gone Wrong in 2017, involving La Huerta and the island's owner at the time, Everett Rourke Senior. Police have stated that the close connection between the victims does suggest a personal motive. They have also stated that the disappearances were almost certainly orchestrated by a large, and very organized group. They are asking for the public's help in locating the victims. Any information anyone can provide will be greatly appreci--”

“I hate the language they use,” Molly whispers. “'Suggest a personal motive'. As if it isn't obvious to anyone with half a damn brain.”

She slowly sits up, letting her slippered feet meet the floor. She makes a vague gesture towards the armchairs with one hand, nodding. No one needs a translation. Frank and I both sit down.

“...I'm glad you're letting us stay here while this is sorted out,” I tell her. “It's so much easier to have support at a time like this. People outside of yourselves who understand what you're going through. ...I wish we had known each other five years ago.”

Molly's lips quiver just a little before she draws them tightly together, but I can't help seeing the sparkle of tears in her eyes, even as she ducks her head.

“...I'm scared it will be like last time,” she confesses hoarsely. “...That everyone will come back except Alodia. Everyone will get their kids back except me. ...I never even wanted kids. But she was my little sister's baby. Cassie was gone so damn fast and I...I couldn't just...”

“...Of course you couldn't.”

Molly looks up at me. “...She was a good kid. High-spirited. Rob and I just weren't ready, no matter how much I wanted to keep that piece of my sister. I thought if we hired a nanny, I could have my cake and eat it, too. Keep Cassie's kid around without having to really parent her. In so many ways it worked. ...I never really had to answer the hard questions about who her parents were, because she mostly didn't ask them. I don't think she trusted me enough. I got to spoil and indulge her and dress her up like a little doll and feel proud of her accomplishments when I knew what they were...but she figured it all out. She's smart. She knew we weren't great parents. She knew we couldn't really handle her. She got to be a teenager...she got rebellious...by the time she went to college, it was like she was just a tenant in a boarding house who came to stay with us over summer, Christmas, and sometimes a week or two in the spring...”

“No one's teenage years are easy to parent through,” Frank says soothingly. Molly gives a short, bitter bark of laughter.

“But we didn't parent! That's my point! We punished when she broke our rules and ignored her when she wasn't making trouble. ...We lost her for five years, and we swore we'd do better with our second chance, but it's all been the same shit! We throw our money at her, buy her expensive gifts, but we don't know what's really going on! We've never asked her about how her pregnancy is going. We only know she's having a girl because Jake told Rob at work after they found out! We didn't think to ask. We've never thought to tell how proud she's made us or how much of a wonderful person we think she is or how much we lo-love her...!” She gulps and lets out a sob, covering her face with her hands. “...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pouring my regrets out onto complete strangers who are guests here...”

“Oh, shah!” I can't help myself. I go over to the couch and sit down beside Molly, drawing her into my arms. “We're not strangers here. We're mothers. Mothers and fathers. Now, don't argue. You're that girl's mother, no matter who gave birth to her. Every mother has regrets. I'm not here to judge you for what you could have done better. I'm here because right now, we don't know where our kids are, and we're scared out of our heads.”

It takes a moment, but Molly melts into my embrace, winding her arms around me like a child with a teddy bear.

“I can't do this again!” she sobs piteously. “God, how can I do this again?!”

Alodia

The small portion of the sky that I can see from the bed is still dusky when I'm wrenched from my sleep by a loud noise. Vague images from my dreams—a plastic doll swaddled in my arms, a brightly lit stage wooden stage, the darkness beyond the polished lip, and the dark, narrow staircase that impeded my path up to the stage where I was supposed to be dancing--linger in a cloud on top of my brain, the fog pierced by footsteps, and finally by hands that yank the blankets back and drag me upright by my arms. My baby twists in my womb, no doubt agitated about being suddenly jostled. When Diego yelps, I finally come fully awake.

Arachnid goons have us both by the arms, and we're being dragged to opposite sides of the room while Fiddler stands in the center of the bare wooden floor, looking between us with a smug, predatory smile.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I manage to croak.

“I intend to make sure you remember who is in charge here, my little blonde brat. Don't think no one noticed that you puked on one of my friends last night.”

“I was motion-sick,” I protest. Even as I do, I realize that she probably doesn't really care. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that what's happening right now is a power play, nothing more or less. The problem is that I have a sinking feeling that I know how she plans to assert her authority. “It wasn't something I did on purpose.”

“You're probably telling the truth,” she concedes. “But, it was still nasty and smelly. And in the event that you're lying and you did do it on purpose...”

Before I can react, she whips around and drives her closed fist into Diego's gut. His knees buckle as he doubles over in pain, coughing. The Arachnid goons hold him upright as I struggle against my own captors, crying out angrily. Fiddler crosses the room and grabs my chin, pressing the walls of my cheeks into my teeth.

“That's me going easy on you,” she hisses, bringing her face close to mine. “If you don't do everything I tell you to do, I'll go harder. Understand?”

I can't really talk with her fingers squeezing my face, but I nod as much as I can. This seems to satisfy her, because she releases my jaw.

“Good girl. Now, you and me are gonna go downstairs. You try fighting me on it, I'll give your buddy a beating he won't forget.”

I'm not going to fight her. I don't have it in me to test her right now. The Arachnid soldiers holding Diego let go of him and he sinks to his knees, clearly trying to swallow a grimace as he looks up to meet my eyes. I can't think of anything reassuring to say. My vision blurs with tears as I turn and move dazedly toward the door.

I'm quiet on the stairs, concentrating on taking each step without falling. I'm not blindfolded this time, but late pregnancy has me prone to weakness and dizzy spells, even without the added stress of being goddamn kidnapped by someone I watched die five years ago.

The downstairs of this cottage or cabin or whatever is just as sparse as the room at the top of the stairs. The curtains over all the windows are heavy and drawn, no doubt to keep us from seeing out—and possibly to keep anyone else from looking in. But what I find myself really fixating on is how clean everything is. Like someone swept and scrubbed in anticipation of our arrival. That feeling is only compounded when it turns out that Fiddler is leading me into a rustic but pristine bathroom where hot, clear water is flowing out of a polished tap and crashing into a clawfoot tub. Steam rises off the surface of the water, nearly halfway up the tub. A washcloth and towel hang on the bar beside the vanity. A pair of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt sit neatly folded on the closed lid of the toilet, along with a pair of cotton panties and plain white socks.

I can't stop a faint, “What the fuck...?” from passing my lips. Fiddler snorts.

“Are you blind? It's a bath, blodie. A healthy fucking bath, heated to 98 degress.” She goes to turn off the tap. “And a change of clothes. I told you my employer wants you and your parasite healthy.”

“...You can say 'Rourke',” I mutter. “We all know who's greasing your palm. ...Am I going to be permitted some privacy?”

Fiddler snorts. “And risk you trying something stupid? I don't think so.”

I roll my eyes. “What exactly do you expect me to do? Climb out the window with this belly? You think I'm just going to abandon Diego?”

She shrugs, but she doesn't move, nor does she attempt to argue her point. She doesn't have to. She's got the power here, and she knows it. I sigh and start to undress. I'm still wearing the sweat jacket and unitard that I left the studio in yesterday. I peel them off and fold everything neatly and deliberately before stepping carefully into the tub and lowering myself into the water.

I can't deny that the water feels amazing. But the fact that it feels good only serves to upset me more when I remember that I'm a prisoner here. I find the soap in a dish beside the tub and start to scrub resentfully.

“...This isn't going to end how you want it to end,” I inform her flatly.

“Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better,” she replies, which I might have expected.

“My baby will not be born in captivity. ...This isn't La Huerta, Fiddler. This isn't Rourke's territory. We're not isolated on an island while the rest of the world is burning.” I turn a sidelong gaze on her. “And my husband is still out there. Do you really think he's going to rest before I'm home safe?”

The slow way she smiles makes my blood freeze. When she speaks, her voice is a purr. “Oh, I was so hoping you would bring him up. I absolutely wanted you to find out this way.”

My heart drops like a stone, splashing into something icy in my stomach. “...Wh-what are you talking about...?” I ask, my voice thin and breathless.

“Rex Lundgren's got Wolf now. Oh, don't panic. I can pretty well guarantee he's not dead yet. No, it's too soon. And I'm pretty sure he and Rourke want to make sure you see it when he does die. But he probably isn't having a whole lot of fun right now.”

The soap slips from my numb hands as I grip the edges of the bathtub, struggling to breathe. I stare into the rippling water between my bended knees. On the edges of my vision, my submerged thighs are a strange shade of gray, starkly contrasting the pink kneecaps that peak up above the surface like islands. My panicked thoughts chase each other through the storm in my head, tackling, wrestling each other for dominance.

Jake...oh, god, Jake...He isn't dead! He can't be dead. Even Fiddler says he isn't dead...Yet'! Not dead 'yet'!...And he might be suffering...he might be in pain...

“...Why...?” I whisper. Fiddler rolls her eyes.

“Jesus, do you really have to ask?” she sneers. “You said it yourself. He'd only be getting in our way if we left him to his own devices.”

I glare at her, feeling my expression twist into something ugly with sorrow and anger. “Why do you hate him so much?” I snarl. “Did he dump you or something?”

Fiddler raises an eyebrow. “Now why would you assume that?” she sounds irritated.

Her question actually catches me off guard, but only for an instant. Just enough that I can get the tears under control. I fish the soap from the water and rub it between my palms. “Your hatred is clearly more than professional. It's personal. You were glad to turn him and Mike in all those years ago.”

“I was thrilled,” she agrees. “But why do you assume it's because we were lovers? Because I'm a woman, any hatred I have for a man has to be because he scorned me?”

That actually gives me pause for a moment. “...I just can't imagine Jake doing anything else that could possibly explain why you hate him so much.”

“Of course not,” she scoffs. “You're his perfect 'princess', and he's your dashing goddamn rogue hero. You're a fucking fairy tale, and neither of you will ever be anything except perfect in the other's eyes. I could tell you why I hate him, but it won't make sense to you because he'll always be a paragon to you!”

“...So what did he do to you?”

“He showed me up!” She practically spits the words. “Five years I had been fighting and clawing my way into the elite ranks, and then suddenly this scrawny kid from the fucking swamp just comes in and is immediately the best pilot in the whole goddamn Navy?! Everything I worked for was just snatched away and handed to someone else?!”

“...That's the way life goes sometimes,” I reply softly. “There's always someone better, Fiddler.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes you get the chance to tip the scales back in your favor. You know the only reason I don't just kill you right now is I'm sure whatever Rourke is planning for you is worse. And whatever it is, I hope Wolf lives long enough to see it.”

* * *

When my bath is finished and I'm dressed in the unflattering gray sweatsuit provided to me, I'm hustled back to the attic room. Diego isn't there when I get back, and I almost panic. But within a few minutes, he reappears with damp hair and wearing the same plain gray sweatsuit that I am. He smiles mirthlessly when he sees me.

“...Guess this is the uniform for prisoners here. Gray is the new black, anyone? ...Doesn't really have the same ring to it as 'orange,' but it also goes with more...”

I don't answer. I'm crying again, and all I can do is run to him and throw my arms around him. I press my face into his shoulder as he winds his arms around me.

“I'm sorry...” I whimper. “I'm so sorry...”

“Oh, Allie...this isn't your fault. None of it is your fault.”

I pull back to look at him. “Are you okay? It looked like she got you pretty bad before.”

He winces a little. “Well, I won't say it didn't hurt. But I'm undamaged. I'll be okay.” He puts an arm over my shoulders, leading me over to the bed. “C'mere. Come sit down.”

I go where he leads me, sinking down onto the bed. I scrub at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, sniffling.

“...Do you remember back on the island, when we found the game room in The Celestial?”

“You mean when we still thought the Vaanti were trying to kill us?” he says wryly.

“Yeah. And we found the dossier with my name on it?”

“Right. The one with like, zero information on it, except your birthday and your birthplace.”

“...I didn't understand it. At that point, I still had this whole timeline in my head. The one where you and I grew up together. The one we're living now. I couldn't understand why I was the one with the highest threat rating, the one no one could figure out. I thought I was simple. Nothing special. And if I didn't know what I am now, I still wouldn't understand.”

“...What do you mean?”

“...The people I love most in the world are all smart and successful. Geniuses, athletes, revolutionaries. You write books that make the best-sellers list. My husband was an ace pilot in his day. Raj is a world-famous chef. Michelle is a doctor. Quinn is changing lives. ...I'm a dance teacher who didn't even finish college. To the casual observer, I don't really seem to fit in with the rest of the family.”

“...But you know none of us would be where we are without you, don't you?”

I know. Of course I know. It's the whole reason I was born, and it's the cause of all the existential angst I've been experiencing for the last ten months. But I'm not up for rehashing all my insecurities right now. Not even to Diego. In any case, my mind is only leaping to them in an attempt to distract me from much more pressing fears. ...It isn't working. I look up at Diego.

“...Lundgren is alive, Diego. He has Jake.”

Diego's expression crumbles as the color drains from his face. “...Oh, god...Oh, Allie...” He pulls me into his arms and holds me hard against himself, rocking me just a little forcefully. I didn't think I had tears left, but here I am, soaking Diego's gray sweatshirt with them. His hand trembles at it strokes my hair.

“...Fiddler says he's probably alive. ...But just because Lundgren wants him to suffer.”

I feel his grip on me tighten. “...We're getting out of here. I don't know how yet, but we're getting out. Either we get ourselves out, or someone will come for us. All I know for sure is that we have the best family anyone could ask for, and they have never let us down.”

In spite of myself, I feel the weakest smile tug at my lips. “...Aren't the inspirational speeches my thing?” I mumble.

“Yeah, usually. But it kinda seemed like I needed to step up here.”

A sound escapes me that might be a mix of a cough, a whimper, and a half-hearted laugh. I feel like I'm back on the mountain pass leading to the La Huerta Observatory, helplessly dangling miles above the rainforest with the rope knotted around my waist and a failing grip above me as the only things keeping me from plunging into the arms of the open air and oblivion. I grip Diego more tightly.

“...Stay with me, Diego. Whatever happens, just promise me you won't let me be alone.”

“...I promise, Allie.”

I don't know if it's a promise he'll be able to keep. But I appreciate him making it.

Kenji

I get to the hospital early the morning after the attack. I didn't sleep very much, but I don't feel tired. I'm anxious and agitated and a single cup of black coffee doesn't really help matters. I have to stuff my hands in my pockets to hide how much they're shaking.

Eva is waiting in the hall outside Tahira's room when I arrive. Seeing me approach, she pushes herself off the wall she was leaning on and comes to meet me. Her expression is one of grim determination that makes my heart twist painfully. That's not a good news expression.

“...How is she?”

“Stable. But still unconscious.”

“Is that normal?”

“For anyone else? I don't know. Doctors are being kinda vague about that. All I know is that it's not normal for her.”

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Very little, according to Rochelle and Grayson. Just that the damage wasn't as bad as it could have been and her vitals are strong.”

I sigh, and pull my hands out of my pockets without thinking to rub them over my face. When I pull them down again, Eva is frowning at me.

“You okay?” she asks. “You're...kinda shaking like a leaf.”

I shake my head, stuffing my hands back into my pockets. “It's fine. Coffee jitters. Plus I didn't really sleep last night.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she admits. After a moment, she reaches out to put a comradely hand on my shoulder. “...She's gotta be okay. They can't just...they can't just take her down...”

“No,” I agree, my voice grim. “They can't.”

I feel the tingling on my fingertips a moment before it registers that my phone is going off in my pocket. I groan, pulling it out to glance at the screen. I don't recognize the number, and I tap to ignore, stuffing my phone back in my pocket.

“Who's calling?” Eva asks.

“No one I know, and no one I care to talk to.” I lean back against the wall. “...So, can we see Tahira?”

“Yeah, I think so. I was in there for awhile before you got h--” She cuts herself off when my phone starts to buzz again. I groan, pulling it out of my pocket to read the screen.

“Same number.”

“You should answer.”

“Probably some over-enthusiastic telemarketer,” I grunt, tapping ignore again.

“...You sure about that?” Almost before she's finished her sentence, the buzzing starts again. I swear under my breath and finally raise the phone to my ear.

“Hello, who is this?” I snap.

“Katsaros,” a familiar voice grumbles back. “About time you answered, you shiny bastard.”

“...Caleb?! What the fuck?! Where the hell are you?!”

“Never mind that.”

“How did you even get this number? Did Tahira give it to you?”

“No. Never mind how I got it. ...How is Tahira?”

“Stable,” I answer flatly. After a brief hesitation, I add. “But...still unconscious.”

“...I gotta tell you something. Something she said when she was in my van. It didn't register at the time, but it might be important. ...She said, 'I think there was something on the knife'.”

“...What does that mean?”

“The fuck do I know?! Maybe it means she was poisoned somehow!”

I feel the blood rush out of my head. It makes sense. Too much sense. “...Shit...” I whisper, my voice weak and hoarse. “...If you're right...”

“...Look, I'm gonna do what I can to track down her attacker. Or at least the weapon. If I can get that back to your brainiacs, maybe they can do something with it.”

I don't mention that the only medical doctor we could actually trust with the secret side of Tahira's biology has been kidnapped from her honeymoon. I guess Dax's biologist friend at Prescott Industries could be trusted with a sample of Tahira's blood...but that would mean acquiring it...

“Caleb, be careful,” I murmur, lowering my voice. “The...person that attacked her...they aren't human.”

“Aww, you worried about me, Katsaros?”

“Fuck you!” I snarl. “I don't give a shit about you! I just care about getting hold of whoever hurt Tahira!”

“Okay, okay. Calm your tits. Seriously, relax. Remember I can conjure fire. ...But you mind telling me what this thing is, if it ain't human?”

“They're...like a hyper-evolved human. Superior strength, speed, and super senses.”

“...So it's like us.”

I sigh. “...Superficially, yes. ...You get your hands on them, or on the weapon, I'll explain in more detail.”

“...You saying that'll make you trust me?”

“I'm saying that if you help us save Tahira, it will be a huge step in the right direction.”

Tahira

I'm not conscious. I'm sure that I'm not conscious. The last thing I remember was the bright florescent light in the operating room and a face in a surgical mask hovering over me. I was cold. But the right side of my torso felt like it was on fire. Neither of those two sensations have altered, even as I open my eyes to a familiar fuschia sky. I roll my head carefully from one side to the other. The world takes a moment to catch up and slide into focus, almost like I'm drunk. But I see what I was expecting. Crystals. Giant crystals sprouting from the landscape. I'm back in the crystal dimension. The planet where I was born.

I roll carefully onto my uninjured side. The pain remains suspiciously steady. The motion doesn't cause it to flare. There's no tugging sensation to warn me that I might be about to tear whatever stitches they put in me. I sit up slowly and lift my shirt to examine the wound. But there is no wound. Just a red glow, as if there's a flashlight lodged in my torso. It burns. But the rest of me is cold. But I'm not shivering. I press a hand to my chest, and feel the steady throb of my heart under my palm. I raise my hand to hover under my nose and deliberately push out a hard breath. The rush of air tickles my skin. I'm breathing. My heart is beating. I hurt. I don't think I'm dead.

Tahira...!

The voice fills my head and spills out into the air around me. I look up sharply to see a shimmering figure floating among the crystals. I squint. Only three beings I would expect to appear to me this way. Its shape is vaguely masculine, which narrows it down to two.

“...Dad?” I venture to guess. But immediately I realize that isn't right. “No...Vaanu. Uncle. What's happening? What am I doing here?”

Wake up, Tahira. There is desperation in the voice in my head. You must wake up. I cannot reach my daughter.

“Alodia? What's wrong? Is she in trouble?”

Your enemies are moving against you. I cannot reach her. You must wake up.

“Of course. Right away...” But even as I say it, I am aware that I can't. “...Wait...I don't think it's gonna be that simple...”

Wake up, Tahira.

“I swear I'm trying! ...I think they poisoned me, Uncle. I felt so strange before I slipped off. Like I could feel a fog filling my head...” It had all come on too fast, I remember thinking. With my enhanced strength, I shouldn't have collapsed so quickly. I shouldn't have gone into shock. I should have been able to hold out longer.“...Am I dying?”

Though the thought does bring on a twinge of anxiety, I'm not nearly as scared as I probably should be. Still, Vaanu's next words are comforting.

You will not die. But you must fight.

“Right. Fight. ...Um...how?”

...Wake up, Tahira! WAKE UP!...

I grit my teeth as I struggle to my feet. The pain doesn't change with the motion of my body, but it still hurts enough to be hindering. Still, Vaanu has told me what I need to know. I'm alive. But I'm trapped. Trapped in my mind. And I am not going to escape lying in the dirt. I gather my strength and take a step. My bare foot sinks into soft purple dust. It supports my weight, and I raise my other foot to place it in front, leaving behind a neat impression in the dust behind. That's the hardest part over. I don't know where I'm going, but I've taken the first step. I'm coming, Alodia. Wherever you are, I'm coming.

Zahra

I spent the night on the floor of the office. Iris has been plugged into our systems since the news broke. Her hologram has mostly stayed off, but the lights flickering on the surface of her drone assure me she's staying vigilant. Craig came by sometime after midnight to bring me food and coffee—and an extra-large sleeping bag and pillow for us to share. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but that's par for the course. And it was nice to have Craig spooning me all night, feeling his breath against my neck. I catch a little sleep around four in the morning, waking up a couple hours later to find him gone, the heat fading from his spot in the sleeping bag. I check my phone and find a text alert:

P2: Gone to get breakfast! BBS! <3

I smirk, tapping out a reply: Better b donuts

P2: So many donuts!!! I R best bf evar!

An email alert scrolls down at the top of my phone screen. At the same time, Iris' drone chimes, her hologram flickering to life.

“Zahra, an email message has come through, marked high priority.”

“Thanks, Iris. I got it.” I double-tap the alert with my thumb and my email opens. I don't recognize the address—a string of apparently random numbers and letters—and there's an attachment. I would brush it off as a phishing scam or a virus attack, except for the message that accompanies it:

To find Cassandra Sullivan's daughter, consult her first baby. Everett Rourke was never above buying what was useful to him, no matter how ill-gotten.

“...Cassandra Sullivan. That was Alodia's mom's maiden name,” I murmur aloud.

“What about Alodia's mom?” I turn to see Craig pushing through the door, balancing a box of donuts in one hand and a dangerously sagging cardboard tray of two coffee cups in the other. I leap up to grab the tray of cups before our precious caffeine fix ends up all over the carpet.

“Jesus, Craig! Put the cups kitty-corner when there's two of them! It's too heavy when you put them both on one edge!”

“Sorry. So, what about Alodia's mom?” I show him the email pulled up on my phone. He frowns. “...What does that mean? And who sent it?”

“No idea. Iris, can you trace the IP address?”

Iris' holographic eyes flicker for a moment. “Email was sent from an internet café in Barcelona, Spain.”

“Internet café?” Craig repeats. “Those still exist?”

“...'ProjectGalatea'...”

“Huh?”

“That's what the attachment is called. ...How's our antivirus software, Iris?”

I swear Iris's smile looks smug. “Useless compared to me, Zahra. That is why you always take me with you when you go hacking.”

“Touché. Well, I'll let you take care of opening that attachment, then.”

“Of course, Zahra. I...oh, dear...” She trails off, frowning.

“What? What's wrong?”

“Observe the screen, Zahra. I believe there is something you ought to be aware of.”

I move to sit in front of the computer, where Iris has displayed a readout of security data. It takes a few times going over it to realize what I'm looking at. When it finally sinks in, I feel the blood drain out of my head. My hands start to shake on the desk in front of me.

“...Shit...oh, shit...how...?!”

“Z? What is it? What's wrong?” Craig comes to grip my shoulders. “Hey, P1, take a couple breaths.”

“...Security breaches on the island. Three of them. They weren't there when I originally went through the data logs. Iris, are these time stamps accurate?”

“I am afraid so, Zahra. These files came from the back-up archives. I was only just alerted to the discrepancy. I don't know why I didn't catch it sooner.”

“I think I know why,” I reply grimly. “Whoever is responsible, they had access to the latest codes or they would have tripped the alarm. And they were able to delete the records from the primary logs, so they have access to the security system. ...The first breech is about an hour after we lost contact with Jake, Sean, and Michelle.” I feel Craig's grip tighten at the mention of Sean.

“So...what's that mean?”

“...We won't know for sure until we look. But I have a hunch that those three at least are still on the island.”

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