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morallyinept · 2 months

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Reverence - A Ezra x Limb Prosthesis F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: A mysterious, vagabond man comes to your aid, and in return you show him some kindness. And over the course of a stormy night, you discover you both have more in common than just outward appearances.

Pairing: Ezra x Limb Prosthesis F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair, however. Reader has a prosthetic limb. She was born with an underdeveloped limb below the left knee. Reader's age is not mentioned, so you can determine/imagine it's you, if you'd like to, bub. Ezra is in his early-to-mid 40's.)

Word Count: 12.1k - because Ezra won't shut up. 🙃

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Mentions and descriptions of limb loss/use of a prosthetic limb/Ezra is missing his arm/Reader is missing her leg below the knee/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!) fingering/oral M & F receiving/there is no fetishising of limb loss here, it's real love/sex with very real bodies/an imagined world created within the Prospect universe/Ezra comes with a thesaurus

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | EZRA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The Pug is a skiv of a planet that seems to have been forgotten by time itself.

Its once-gleaming skyscrapers now stand as towering monuments to a bygone era; their facades stained with the grime of countless rotations. The feculent streets below are a tangled web of concrete and steel, where the lurid neon glow of Vayok advertising signs cast flickering shadows on the faces of the downtrodden masses.

The air of Puggert Bench is thick with the acrid stench of industry, a noxious cocktail of pollutants and toxic fumes that hang heavy over Noki District like a thick shroud.

The sound of machinery echoes through the streets, a constant reminder of the ceaseless churn of production that drives the small planet's rototiller economy, despite being nothing more than a mechanical layover for most passing through on freighters.

Despite the harshness of its environment, Puggert Bench is a livable place of vibrant contrasts. Here, lander pods zip past rusting hulks of abandoned ship corpses, their sleek orbs cutting through the smog with effortless grace.

The cloud stream, blocking out the sun in a haze of burnt umber that chokes you when it sticks to the back of your throat, carries on the breeze through the air into your nasal cavity as you breathe in. When you blow your nose later, black shit will present itself to you in your tissue, unless you wrap up with a mask or scarf whilst outside.

For every gleaming skyscraper and bustling marketplace, there are a dozen dark alleys and forgotten corners where the lawless thrive. In the shadows of the city's turgid underbelly, criminal syndicates and black-market traders ply their illicit loot prospected from alien moons; their activities hidden from the prying eyes of the less-than-honourable authorities.

Everyone is fair game in this place.

A place, where walking by yourself late at night probably isn’t a wise idea, but when left with little choice as your shift runs over - again - you brave it head on, picking up your often wonky steps with a hurried pace.

You’ve walked this grimy thoroughfare countless times, memorising the way with muscle memory. You wrap your fraying scarf round your face, cutting out the tar that burns on your tongue.

A slight drag on your gait, an itch surfaces where the buckles rub at your skin around your left knee joint. You stop, pinching and digging your fingers in over your pants to tug out the relief from the burn of the itch.

With each step, you’re reminded of the weight that bears down upon you - the prosthetic limb pressing back against your prickly marred skin with a relentless intensity. The artificial joint, no matter how seamlessly it's been integrated with your body, still causes a continual dull ache that reverberates through your bones with every movement.

You can switch it off sometimes, but the hard pavement beneath you seems to magnify every twinge of discomfort, every jolt that sends shockwaves of thudding pain coursing through your remaining upper limb with every step you take.

You’re still toying with the idea of trading it in for a bionic model, but the foreboding cost and invasive surgeries to wire it into your nerves - that come with their own horrific testimonials of those who’ve had it done, and done badly - far outweighs any desired practicality. Instead you navigate life with the callouses and blisters, used to them being part of your daily routine.

Slipping your fingers between the buckles offers minimal, sweet respite for a few blissful moments as you scratch, when suddenly, a hand shoots out from the darkness, grabbing you roughly by the arm and yanking you into a secluded alcove; the brick walls slick with the sweat of the city.

Before you can react, a gruff voice growls in your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

"Your credits. Now!" The assailant demands, his putrid breath hot against your neck as he presses a sharp object against your side.

Panic surges through your veins as you fumble for your wallet, your hands trembling with fear as you forget momentarily which pocket it’s in.

He shoves his hand in the pocket closest to him, rooting around in there uncouthly as you protest and struggle.

You’re both disturbed when a shadowy figure emerges from the darkness, with a quiet determination.

The newcomer is a man of imposing stature, his features obscured by the billowy hood of his tattered coat, and a facial scarf of his own that covers his nose down to his chin.

But what catches your attention most is the sight of his empty right sleeve, the fabric of his coat pinned haphazardly against his shoulder where his arm should be.

“I’d rethink that course of action, unless violence with a matched counterpart is what you're getting at.” The man warns in a steady, yet rich Southern drawl.

Your mugger mouths some regurgitated insult in Vayok. You don‘t fully speak it, but you know enough to know he’s mocking the obvious disability of the man, who simply chortles in response to a jibe he’s probably heard before.

But you're left wondering in bewilderment at how your apparent saviour will pull this off.

“You assume this handicap is to my detriment? Are you sure you wish to find out how inaccurate that misinformed assumption is?”

Undeterred by his physical limitation, the man squares his shoulders, his gaze locks on the attacker with unwavering resolve; a pair of dark eyes shining defiantly in the dim light of the alley.

In a matter of moments, fisticuffs ensue. It happens so fast, you're unsure who threw the first hook. Seizing the opportunity, you break free from the thief's grasp and stumble away; your heart pounding in your chest as you watch the scene unfold before you.

You watch helplessly as the man’s coat is torn where it’s previously pinned as they kerfuffle and tussle - the tear in the dirty fabric is deep. The one-armed man subdues your attacker, his movements fluid and precise despite his apparent infirmity.

But a surprise blow to the sternum knocks him down with a winded oof.

The bolt pistol is revealed; gleaming chromatic and pearly in the night air as it falls from the coat pocket of the man and skitters towards your feet.

A single squeeze on the trigger renders your attacker incapacitated, growling as he clutches his shoulder and stares up at you taking careful aim again.

The thief stumbles backward, his grip loosening on the man completely as he struggles to regain his balance. He’s all teeth and spittle as you watch the one-armed man take his hand - that’s still holding onto your wallet - and bends it back at a sickening angle.

The assailant yelps with the slow, deliberate cracking.

“Drop it, or I can assure you I’ll make it a more painful process than necessary.” The man warns.

The wallet clatters to the ground.

“Excellent. I suggest you hasten with speed to get your wound tended to, lest I change my mind about absolving myself from further violence.”

As the thief slinks away into the darkness, nursing his wounds and cursing under his breath, you turn to your saviour, your eyes wide with gratitude and dumbfounded admiration.

But he slumps down the wall clutching under his ribs, chest heaving.

“In Kevva’s name, woman!” He snarls when he sees you still taking aim.

Taking little risk, you keep a grip of the pistol, primed and ready.

“Yes,” he nods, breathing in raggedly. “Best to keep your wits about you, Birdie. There are all manner of beasties out here who would relish a chance to get you.” He sniffs deeply. “But tell me, do you treat all your saviours with the same warm welcome or am I the exception?”

“Can never be too certain.” You remark with a shaky hand. "It's like you say, all manner of beasties."

He looks at you like a dog sniffing out the other; sniffing out whether you’re a threat to him or not. Dark eyes preened on you and unrelenting.

“Keep it steady, pet.” He motions to the blaster with a subtle nod. “A weak grip makes an opportunity easy to exploit.”

You look at him suspiciously, two dark tar eyes regarding you back as he pulls down his scarf to breathe, and to show you his face for reassurance you assume, although the swampy air makes him cough and hack.

“Just some friendly advice.” He explains with a dull shrug. He sucks in air with a deep snort and spits out a globule of phlegm on the pavement.

“The mistake you make is assuming we’re friends.” You confirm confidently, although there's a tremor to your tone. Your body feels like jelly as you try to steady yourself.

“An underestimation I won’t make again, duly noted.” The man confirms as he struggles to stand upright himself.

“Do you need a hand?” You put to him as he struggles with balance.

He glares up at you with a rather repugnant look through cinched in brows. The two deep pits of his nostrils flare at you like black holes opening across the vacant universe that’ll swallow you whole.

“Sorry. Poor choice of words.” You quip, as you step towards his sneer. You remain steadfast with the bolt pistol, holding out your other hand.

He mutters fast under his breath, growling, and you don't catch it.

"What was that?" You query, suspiciously, arming the pistol again.

“Timid threats from a quashed maverick. I’m no harm to you, pet.” He holds his only palm out to you.

You take it and pull him upright to his feet. He passes your wallet to you with thick, grubby fingers and you surrender his bolt pistol in return, albeit reluctantly.

You shudder and gasp out, feeling the unrelenting burn around your prosthetic make itself known again; the adrenaline subsiding in your body.

“Quell your snivels. You remain unsullied. I'd garner that a win.” He says simply, noting your watery eyes. “He was nothing but a hungry brute.”

“Quite the hero, aren't you?” You remark with a scoff at his barbarous contempt towards you.

“Don’t mistake me for a gallant knight, I’m far from that. More of a superfluous hooligan, but I’m still a man with a mere iota of sympathy and respect for the superior species when they find themselves in trouble.” He eyes you carefully as you wibble about on your feet. “You're just a slip of a thing, why are you out so late wandering? Are you lost, little bird?”

“No. My shift… it ran over. This is my usual route home when there's no shuttle.”

“Do you often find yourself in trouble’s embrace?”

”Won’t be the first time, I'm sure.” You mutter.

“Unfortunate. I hear a surge-five is well on the way. Best be homeward.” He remarks with a click of his lips as he looks up at the glowering sky. The heavy swell of a incoming storm predicted is approaching in from the horizon in a cluster of almost onyx clouds.

His scowl softens as he looks back at you still trying to process the whole incident and remaining a little unsteady on your legs.

“I expect you to denounce the offer, but walking you back to your quarters would seem prudent, given the errant situation. I know I appear as a stranger to you, so I’ll respect your wishes if you decline.”

You don’t hear his words as you focus on remaining upright, trying to process the events.

“Oi. Woman. What say you?” He questions again, bringing you back to him.

“I can mend your coat.” You offer, fuzzing back in and your eyes fall on the large gaping flap on his right shoulder.

He looks down at the sleeve you nod to and a growl erupts from his lips at the tear. “That will be unnecessary.”

“Do you have another coat?”

“No.” He gruffs.

“Then it’s necessary.” You assert. “The surge-five is predicted to be harsh.”

He simply nods and drops his hood, shaking his head fully out from under it. An aquiline nose cuts a sharp line across his face, accentuating the aura of strength and intensity that surrounds him. But oddly, a small, messy blonde coiffure sticks out against his hairline, stark amongst a sea of dark oil-slicked tufts.

“I'm not holding out much optimism at your skill. The hole is quite impossible to simply mend.” He observes.

“You let me worry about my skill. I accept your offer of chivalry. It’s kind of you, thank you.” You say, with a pertinent nod.

“I’m not kind, pet, but the assumption is appreciated nonetheless.”

“Kind enough to walk me home and save me from losing my wage.” You tuck your wallet back into your jacket.

“I have enough on my conscience to reconcile with, let alone the thought of a woman of your calibre making it home in one piece.” He tucks the bolt pistol away inside his coat.

“My calibre?” You baulk.

“I meant it as a compliment, of course. Pretty thing like you out here is bound to attract some attention.” He says, eyeing your stance.

"Why are you out here anyway?"

“Minding my own. What’s your name, friend?”

You tell him and he nods. “Ezra.” He introduces. “I’m perplexed by your intentions.” Ezra replies flatly.

“All I offer is some tea and some respite from the incoming storm.” You say.

“Do you open your home to every vagabond you meet?”

“Only the charming ones.” You remark with a snort.

You’re convinced you see a grin turn up his lips. “No quid pro quo? Nothing is free, Birdie. Smart women like you, you know this.”

“I am smart. I offer you some food and drink and to patch up your coat, that’s all. I know very well you’re a stranger and could harbour ill intent despite this heroic facade you've presented.”

“It’s no facade.” He says with a frown.

“Good, because I have no qualms in putting a bolt in you should you try to turn on me, we clear?” You warn with a satisfied smirk.

"Been there, done that." Ezra eyes his stump with a wry grin before he rolls his eyes dramatically at your stern look. "Clear."

“I have my own bolt pistol back at home.” You warn.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. The fire in your belly serves warning well enough, Birdie. I wouldn’t dream of any chicanery.”

“Then follow me, Ezra.” You say, with a brewing smile.

Your tiny, poorly provisioned apartment is nestled in a nondescript building on the outskirts of the city.

A walk there that has you both absorbed in a mutual silence that offers a strange comfort, akin to the satisfaction of picking at a scab. Ezra mostly keeps his hand in his pocket and side glances you occasionally with parted lips as though he’ll say something, but doesn’t.

“Let me get you something for that.” You offer, as you note his knuckles when he takes them out of his pocket and pushes the rusted gate open for you.

“It’ll dry over soon enough.” He says, looking down at his bruised and bloodied fist.

“It’s cold and the winds are picking up.” You say, noting the ferocious sky churning overhead. “I’ll get the tea brewing. Come on up.”

“You’re not as frail as I first assumed. I must stop doing that.” Ezra mumbles as he looks you over.

“He took me by surprise. Had I been prepared, I might have thrown a hook or two.” You shrug. You note he hesitates behind you.

“Pertaining to the circumstances of our meeting, perhaps you might want to be alone?” You can sense the trepidation hanging around him; he’s wary of you and it pulls at something inside your chest.

“Come up, Ezra.” You repeat, ignoring him.

He lets go of the creaky gate behind him. “Far be it from me to deny a lady. Even if her taste is somewhat marred in misjudgement.”

“Something tells me I can trust you.”

“That would be your first mistake.” He assures.

“Well, this evening might surprise us both.” You say, as he follows up the steps behind you.

You take your time, hand sliding up the railing as he walks beside you. With each step, you focus intently on the movements of your prosthetic limb, adjusting your gait to compensate for its artificial nature.

You weight bear on your right side, loading your foot and keep your momentum forward up the stairs. You wince as you feel it rub uncomfortably again.

“Are you hurt?” Ezra asks as he examines your unhurried pace.

“No.” You shake your head with a rueful smile as you carry on.

The stairs, with their unforgiving surfaces and steep incline, pose a formidable obstacle, testing your resolve with each upward stride. The prosthetic, while marvellously engineered, lacks the finesse and flexibility of a natural limb, making each step a delicate balancing act between stability and control. The last thing you want to do is slip in front of him.

After you reach the eighth floor, slightly panting, he follows you round to the faded door of your apartment.

“Cosy,” Ezra retorts as he's introduced to your small, cramped world. “It's not often I’m rendered without speech.” Stacks of clutter balance precariously in columns on every available surface.

“I like to collect things.” You say nonchalantly.

“I can see that.” He counters, blinking as he steps through cautiously.

You hold your hand out expectantly for his coat and he hesitates.

“I can’t patch it if you’re wearing it.” You sway.

He slips it off his shoulders and you try not to look at the long sleeve that flaps without a hand at the bottom of it on his right side. His sweatshirt is terribly frayed and holey, and his pants seem loose and ill-fitting.

Boots that are at least a size too big for him clomp around his feet. His appearance, although broad and foreboding, also hints at the gaunt and destitute. There’s a peculiar smell emanating from him now he’s taken off his coat. Something sweetly rotten.

You beckon him through, tossing his heavy coat over your arm, and he follows you through to the living quarters; a stalwart room that overlooks the grimy city.

The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and lingering incense spices, mingling with the faint hum of electronic devices scattered throughout the cluttered space.

You switch on an air purifier and remove your scarf revealing your face to him fully as you instruct him to make himself comfortable in the ragged recliner.

You busy yourself in the small kitchenette, chinking cups and getting out a tin of med supplies for his hand. You throw a couple of packets of freeze dry in the warmer and set a timer.

On the splintered coffee table in the centre of the room, stacks of dog-eared books and half-empty mugs vie for space with an assortment of trinkets and knick-knacks thrown clumsily over it.

He leaves through the pages of a hefty book on mining. “Light reading material?” Ezra queries as he tosses the book down.

“Call it a tempered curiosity.” You say, coming through with the cups and the tin shoved under your arm.

“Curiosity killed the feline.”

“Yeah, but it has nine lives.” You state boldly to him and he smirks.

“I could tell you all you need to know. Was my profession, a man’s work.” Ezra explains as he takes the mug from you. The heat immediately absorbs into his fingers.

“You're a Prospector?” You ask, with raised eyebrows.

“I was. Not much of anything now.” His lips downturn into the rim of the mug.

“Where are you from, Earth? You look the type.” You ask him, settling slowly and rigidly into a rickety chair opposite a sewing machine in the corner.

You lay out his coat on your lap and reach for a pin cushion. It smells musty and wild, like the outdoors.

“From that suppurate shit-hole? No. Sorry to disappoint.” He smirks.

“Where then? Lau? Your accent hints at relations from a primitive Earth.” You probe.

“You seem well acquainted with it.” He says, reaching for the med tin and flipping it open. He tears at the packet of an antiseptic pad with his teeth, spitting the paper out that sticks to his lip.

“I read.” You smile as you regard him.

A rugged moustache adorns his upper lip, its edges slightly frayed, combined with a shadow of facial hair, adding to an air of menace that might initially catch one's attention. His presence in the small, dimly lit room feels both enigmatic and imposing.

If you had to guess, you propose him to be within his early fortieth, to forty-third rotation, or thereabouts. His skin carries a layer of grime, a testament to the rigours of his endeavours.

“The memory of my origin is hazy at best.” Ezra shrugs, as he presses his knuckles against the moist swab he lays out on the coffee table. He hisses with the sting. “Home hasn't been a concept that I’m all too familiar with. Although I’m informed it was blue like Earth was before it was ravaged. It's been a long time since I was stationed in permanence. My bones have always been restless.” He leans back in the recliner and sips at the fragrant tea. “This tea… it harbours memories.”

“Regale me.” You entice, as you thread the bobbin on your machine.

He licks round his lips savouring the citrus taste. “Have you ever ventured to Kerulon?”

“No.” You shake your head.

“A pisser of a planet, why would you? I got waylaid there once, on my fuknugt ship. Stranded for a time, which seems to be the continual narrative for my story, but I digress. It’s a planet on the edge of The Fringe, known for its vast expanses of sand and scorching twin suns that never set. Not much there at all except for a slow, agonising death. But as luck would have it, amidst the dunes that stretched endlessly towards the horizon, I sought refuge in a humble desert oasis. A rare oasis of life amidst the harsh landscape, it was tended to by a group of nomadic travellers known as the Sand Dwellers. They offered me a generous cup of their signature orange tea - a brew infused with spices native to Kerulon's desert flora, I’ve come to suspect. Your tea reminds me of that cup of salvation.”

Ezra sips another mouthful loudly and hums with his eyes closed.

“I got it from the marketplace.” You chirp.

“Really? How uncanny… And where exactly did you procure that?” His pointer finger, stubby and long points to the glassy jewel on your shelf by the grimy window.

“I found it.” You shrug.

He scoffs as he approaches and reaches for it as though drawn under a spell. “Birdie, do you know what this is?”

“A pretty rock.” You say with a lazy mirth.

He stands and fondles the faceted cabochon inside his big palm, eyeing the blood amber middle. “Aurelac. You’re sitting on an abundance of riches.”

“I’m well aware of Aurelac and it’s worth on the black market.” You press on the pedal under the table, and the coat slides through your machine fluidly.

Ezra blinks, bewildered. “You know it’s worth, and yet you’ve abdicated it as a paperweight?"

"Mhm."

"Such a curious creature, unable to be bribed by gems in abundance. You must be the only one not to be swayed by the allure. And that’s a rarity.”

“I don’t need riches. If it matters so much to you, you take it.” You simply say with earnest eyes.

Ezra baulks and struggles to form words.

“You Prospectors are all the same. Vultures just picking at the sinew on the bone. I’ve yet to meet a Prospector who didn’t live up to the reputation of harbouring an unsatisfied greed. You’ve killed for that.” You look at the gem wrapped inside his whopping palm with disdain.

“I have, and indulged in deeds far worse.” Ezra nods with a sigh through his enrapturing verbosity. But also a drained voice that indicates he’s just plain sick of this shit now, sick of it all.

Ezra smirks, bearing teeth and a corrupt murmur slips out. “Your assumption is emphatically sound, little bird. It's like a disease, the siren song of Aurelac knows no bound or reason. A sane man would always be swayed to harvest and reap. I couldn't count on all of our combined digits the number of times I’ve made lewd choices in spite of my perseverance to merely covet the riches that the Kevva forsaken moon bequeaths under her ample bosom. I've spent a long time there suckling at the teat. It only pains me now to ponder my very justifications for it to begin with, purging the bowels of that fecund wood…” He trails off grinding his teeth and sighing as he examines the unspoiled gem shining in his hand.

As you work, Ezra's voice pierces the silence once more, each syllable laden with a poignant blend of resignation and acceptance.

“There was a time when spitting off the edge of the world was an arrogant riot; to pillage and plunder with luck and careless abandon, but now with spirited discourse, I’ve settled into a freefall back into the harsh shunt of The Fringe. Some of us have the proclivity for greatness, while most do not. I fear I’ve become the latter.”

You look up at him and his face bears the worn lines and creases of hard experience, etched deep by the sun and wind, giving him a weathered and world-weary appearance.

His prominent nose adds to the pastiche of mystery and arcane belligerence that hovers about his person. A scruffy beard adorns his jawline, adding to his rugged and no-nonsense demeanour.

Oily hair streaked with grey at the temples, falls in disarray around his forehead, but what catches the eye most is the striking patch of blonde amidst the darker strands at the roots.

It seems like the evidence of a possible birthmark born in the hair line, or could just be a fashion choice exalted in bad taste. You make a mental note to ask him later. But it adds a unique touch to his plotline in a twist of his devious character as you ponder him and his story.

“Such a beauty,” Ezra remarks, observing you as he twists the jewel around his thick, calloused fingers. “It’ll fetch you a good sum.” He simply returns the gem to the shelf, his eyes lingering on it long after it leaves his grip.

Your eyes graze down to the missing appendage, trying to fill in the gaps on his pages, as you place pins in your teeth.

“Ah.” He notices your lingering gaze. “Go on, ask away.” Articulating around his Southern inflection with deep flutters of his tongue, it scatters out of it like jagged diamonds from the mines of Ajaxia.

You smile. “Nothing to ask.”

“I’m not foul to you like this?” You sense that he loathes it. Wired bitter with the loss.

Despite the initial challenges and the occasional stares from strangers when your limp overtakes you when your prosthetic becomes unbearable to bear full weight on, you refuse to be confined by societal expectations or limitations.

You throw yourself into mundane life with unparalleled gusto, pursuing your work with a fervour that could inspire those around you if they weren’t so ignorant and assuming. A trait that might only embolden Ezra too, the more time he spends with you, if he cares to.

The thought of revealing your commonality with him rests idle on your tongue however.

Yet, beneath your fearless exterior, you can harbour moments of doubt and insecurity. There are days when the weight of your prosthetic feels heavier than usual, and the whispers of self-doubt threaten to overshadow your resolve. You recognise it too, in his dark eyes right now, fierce, but also harbouring that self-loathing and defeated eroding.

It’s different for you, you don’t miss what you’ve never had, you only know a life like this, but for him? To have had it and then lost it, you can feel the decayed emotion that it evokes pouring from him, even if he never says the words out loud.

You stand, approaching him with his coat patched and he raises his eyebrows. “Far from it. We might have a common depth.” You mutter.

“I fail to see anything we share in common. However, you have magic in you, no doubt.” He says, as he admires his mended coat. “Witchcraft.” He smirks, running his fingers over the neat stitches.

“You have a way with words.” You smile, reaching for your cup.

“A flair, so I’m told. Thank you.” He says earnestly to you, eyes big and round.

“I work in the textile factory, my job.” You explain as you disappear into the kitchen when the beeper from the warmer goes off.

“I was good with both my hands too, once,” he surmises bleakly. “What meat is this?” Ezra enquires, chewing slowly to savour the peculiar tang from the heated freeze dry meal that you’ve thrust at him with a spoon.

“Trog. At least that's what I tell myself. Makes it go down easier.” You remark.

“Never look a gift trog in the mouth, I suppose that’s good counsel.” Ezra shrugs and shovels in more, steadying the packet in his crotch for support; the warmth of it seeping into his thigh muscles and warming him pleasantly.

“I’ve some Bitz Bars if you'd prefer?”

He shakes his head. “If I never see a Bitz Bar again it’ll be too soon.”

The brief silence between you is disturbed only by the battering swell outside that has increased in its voracity in the last hour, and the soft chews and gulps as you both devour your meal in ensconced silence.

It’s a harmonious, off-key beat that serves as the background chime to your dining encounter. Discreet in your mutual voyeurism as you eat and steal curious, yet wary glances at one another.

You’re sitting at the small table with your sewing machine, whilst Ezra masticates on the recliner, albeit much slower, and negotiates a spoon in a hand that’s not ambidextrous in the slightest.

“Tell me where you learned your skill.” Ezra prompts around a spin cycle of meat.

“I have many. You’ll need to be particular.” You finger a newly discovered hole on your kneecap idly and frown at it. You can see a peep of leather from the buckle tarnished underneath.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, pet.” Ezra smirks, as he chews through his mouthful and runs his tongue around his teeth dislodging pieces of meat; his dark eyes flashing to you briefly. “Specifically your skills with a needle,” he waggles his stump at you and his sleeve flaps about and knocks his pouch over. “Fucking tarnation!” He mutters, pissed.

You get up pliantly to assist him as he gathers the packet with quick snaps of his fingers. He spoon-scoops the contents off of his thigh, plopping the mounded heaps back into it, feeling the juice and gravy soak into his pants in a small, irritating patch.

“My grandmother taught me.” You say, dabbing at his thigh with a cloth.

He nods at you whilst continuing to alternate between cleaning himself of the spilled grains and meat, and eating it with good measure.

“Commit to a deal with me.” Ezra prompts after he swallows down the gristle.

“What kind of a deal?” You question, narrowly.

“I’ll tell you my story in its entirety and you regale me with yours in equal measure. Omit no detail too small.” Ezra declares.

“There’s really not much to tell. My life has not been spent roaming the Interplanetary digging up sparkly gems.” You remark.

“You sound bitter.”

“My hindrances keep me here.” You sigh.

“What hindrances?” He cocks his head at you.

“Tell me your story, Ezra.” You deflect as you settle back in the chair to eat.

Ezra smiles exaltedly. He relaxes back into the recliner after discarding the packet, whilst you listen keenly as he recounts how he came to be on the wretched moon with a group of like-minded individuals - rapscallions, as he refers to them - who were an entourage of the roguish sort.

Ragtag acquaintances he’d collected during his time prospecting many planets and satellites across the Interplanetary, but seemingly coming up short until The Green was set in his sights during the heights of the Aurelac rush.

Of course, man’s greed always complicates even the basics of well interpreted relations, and soon he found himself without his ship or his crew; most of them deciding to pick one another off over petty quarrels, whilst the successful of the rogues took to leaving the moon. And Ezra was stranded with nothing but a serious, yet mysterious being known only as Number Two, who filled the role of henchman to Ezra’s own smart, callous wit at genial leadership.

He reiterates to you, several times, that Number Two was not much of a conversationalist, much to his imminent dismay, so when he happened upon Damon, he informs you of the relief he felt to copulate wildly in words exchanged with a stranger, even if they weren't pleasantries.

It’s apparent to you, before he’s started to share his whimsical story, that Ezra has a rapt knack in kinking the tendrils of censorious intelligence and a dry sagacity that often blurs the lines of sarcasm and menace. Flowery, Southern treble clefs dance off of his tongue in a verbal, bewitching thrall, playing their music around your head in kaleidoscopic wonder.

The things he'd done, the things Ezra he'd lost, are all painted from his cracked lips for you to see and experience, unscathed in the most exquisite details and colour. Feeling as though you’re there with him by his side and witnessing the altered course into complete annihilation. He was sure he’d be abandoned by Cee in a warped juxtaposition that, even his attempts at atoning for his previous sins couldn’t seem to cleanse him of. He iterates wistfully that he should've seen it coming.

Ezra finalises the story with her gallant return and bringing him home rather than being left there to perish.

He’s notably candid when he speaks of his love for women - plural. He shares vulgar trysts about his many lovers on Luxillion, mostly whores whom he paid good credits for before he settled off on his wanderings, but who won't even entertain him now that he;s no longer whole. He mentions he occasionally dabbled freely in the delights of flesh with a fellow Y chromosome too; a flouted omission that makes your pores saturate at the outlandish, yet scandalous thought of it. His laying partners are of no prejudice.

Ezra is regimented in never speaking of an unrequited love nor a love that holds permanence inside of his beating organ of clogged ventricles. The closest Ezra has come to feeling an emotion akin to the desire to protect another is with the bolshie whippersnapper named Cee, who had saved him from his fate on The Green.

And then you, this very evening.

“What happened to her?” You enquire.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I woke up in a med bay and haven’t heard a whisper since. Skipped out with a sack full of gems. Good for her.” He remarks.

You watch as he winces and scowls down at his stump.

“Are you alright?” You query.

“Just an irritation" You watch as his lips curl back over his teeth. "Sometimes it… it feels as if it’s still there. Sears. Feels like I can still wiggle my fingers, the most peculiar thing.”

Nursing the aggravation is made small, as Ezra stares out at the window with a watery look making his scleras shine and the cords in his neck tense. Trying to push it to the back of his mind to be recycled into some distorted relief.

“That’s quite the story you shared.” You say.

“It’s but mine to keep. And now yours too, I guess.” Ezra sighs and winces again. “Do you happen to have anything for the burn?” He asks, feeling the pain grow and mutate from his wrangled nerves into his veins.

“I might have a tranq.”

“Bliss.” He says as you get up. He notices you take a moment to regain your balance, a slight limp to your gait as you make your way forward.

A large explosion-like sound is heard outside and you turn towards the window as the lights go out in your dingy apartment.

“Kevva’s wrath!” You gasp, a silhouette lit up by the purple lightning that rips terribly across the sky.

“Did something calamitous occur?” Ezra asks, standing too.

Aggressive thunder is heard rolling in once more as the rain pelts harder until it’s a tiresome skirmish battering the panes.

“Looks like a strike hit the fuse box. Whole District is out.” You say, hovering by the window.

“Perhaps it was a good call, your invitation.” Ezra says, a small smile unfolding on his lips.

“Mm. The rain is often acidic.” You retreat to the kitchen and find some medicine and some candles. Lighting a couple on the coffee table, you take a hold of Ezra’s sleeve after passing him the pill.

“Not a tranq unfortunately, but it might take the edge off.” You begin to roll his sleeve upwards.

“What are you doing?” He queries.

“Making it easier.” You say, softly. You pin it in place, and then fetch a spool and needle from your sewing table.

He watches, eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones as he stares down at your fingers working around the new hem of his sleeve you've created.

“I think I’ve seen you before... Around the District, down by the river.” You begin, carefully as you start to sew the sleeve in place. "You live there, don't you?"

He immediately bristles. “I don’t require charity. I’ll take my leave.”

“Ezra. You have nowhere to go. We both know that. It’s a dangerous night with the surge-five. Drink your xanadu tea and stay. You can take my bed.”

He sighs as his eyes shy away. “My predicament since my return from the Green has rendered me… unlucky, it’s true. There isn’t a place or a sympathetic ear here for people like me, and so my place is with shelter under the bridge. But I won’t spoil your evening with my dreary plight.”

“We can share in the dreariness.” You smirk, looking around at the dim confines of your apartment gloaming with waxy candlelight.

He sighs again as he watches you thread neat stitches to keep the sleeve in place.

“I can’t force you to stay. But I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe rather than outside in that. I’ll make do on the recliner. I insist.” You say as you glance at the lightning streaking across the sky.

“Kindness offered to a scoundrel. You are something, Birdie.”

“It’s only gratitude for what you did in the alley. We’re even.”

"If I were to take you up on your offer, I will sleep here. You won't be denied your bed."

"There's no argument, Ezra. You'll take the bed and we'll say no more about it." You confirm.

“You trust me fictitiously.”

“No, I trust you.” You correct him.

“You know nothing of me. I could take your treasure and run whilst you sleep.”

“So do it. I already told you I care not for it.” You say, as you thread the stitches carefully.

“Why don't you cash it in? You could improve your living quarters.” He suggests.

“My living quarters are fine as they are.” You reply with a frown.

He looks at you curiously, deep eyes burning into you as you find them with your own.

“I don’t care about the material things.”

“Pet, your dwelling is stacked with material things.” He grins. “Look at all this treasured garbage.”

“It’s gotten a bit out of hand admittedly. But it's mostly worthless.”

“What is worth it's weight to you?” He enquires, boldly.

“Life. Connection…" You catch his eyes. "Love.”

He scoffs as he brings his cup back to his lips and swallows the pill.

“Immaterial things.” You say, as you notice his gaze heading towards the Aurelac gem again.

“Before I left for the Green, the only material possession I owned was my ship. A Testing Screamer.”

“Fancy.” You remark, unimpressed.

“No, she was a patched up shit bucket of rust, with a channel rat infestation, but I worked her hard. She got the job done. As I recounted, words and metal flew amongst my crew and they left me there to seek my death without her. I came back with far less.” He says, glancing down at his missing arm. “So, I relish the importance of the immaterial, even if you assume otherwise of me.”

“I assume nothing, Ezra.” You confirm. “There. You’re all patched up. You’re free to go into the wily night if you're so adamant.” You wince at the chafing burn around your knee joint.

You’re keen to rid yourself of the prosthetic, but hesitate whilst he’s here. You don’t mean to be prickly, but it’s a burn that’s starting to irritate.

“I’ve offended you.”

“No.” You shake your head with a faint smile offered. “I’ve been really grateful for your company, actually. It's been nice to converse with someone.”

“Do you feel lonely, pet?” Ezra questions out of the blue.

You turn to face him, your knee knocking against his and you wince. “All the time.” You answer honestly.

“I find it hard to accept that you cloister yourself here alone each cycle.”

“Why?”

“Because you're indeed bewitching.”

His hand is felt on your waist, gently squeezing, and you stop him as he reaches your thigh.

“Too fast?” Ezra queries, reading your eyes carefully.

“No.” You smile. “But…” You sigh with a steady gulp and then take his hand, hesitating before you place it on your artificial calf just past your knee.

He immediately raises his eyebrows with a crooked smirk as he feels not soft flesh under your pants when he squeezes, but a hard shell. He knocks against it, bewildered.

“You come with secrets,” he hisses jovially.

“Missing pieces.” You correct.

“As do I.” He says as your eyes fall to his stump barely poking out of the rolled up sleeve now. “Tell me your story,” he murmurs hauntingly.

He begins inking soft kisses into your collarbone and you don’t stop his forwardness. Instead you close your eyes and relish the feel of the warm, tender contact offered.

“No story. I was simply born this way.” You sigh, feeling his lips burn on your skin. Your fingers run themselves through his oily nape and scritch into his scalp.

“Then there’s no less of you to love, pet.” Ezra groans, looking up at you. “A simple man would be worthy of your affections, even if just for a night?”

“Perhaps.” You smirk.

“Perhaps? Here you sit like Kevva pushed you out her womb for me, perfectly moulded from clay, and you say perhaps?”

You simply smirk as he looks at you, trying to figure you out.

“I’m not perfect.” You say, your eyes averting away.

“I’ll be the judge of that. I’d like to see you bare.” He says, and you know immediately what he means.

You sigh out deeply and nod. “You too.”

“Birdie-”

“You. Too.” You sway. “Let me see you, Ezra.”

He watches as you stand and unzip your pants. You notice his eyes lingering on your centre for a moment, hidden beneath your bland underwear, but then his eyes trail down your left thigh to your knee where the buckles meet your skin.

You unbuckle your prosthetic without any meekness at all, leaning on his shoulder for support as he wraps his only arm around you, offering balance.

“I've got you, pet.”

You let it clatter to the floor and sit down in his lap, straddling him as his fingers tentatively brush over your revealed skin.

He, however, gulps as his fingers linger on the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Can I help you?” You ask him, and he shakes his head, pulling the offending item off clumsily and revealing his stump to you as his sweatshirt plops beside him.

“Beautiful,” he says, observing the smooth skin of your ungrown limb. You shudder as his fingers sweep delicately around and across it.

“Likewise,” you say, stroking down his arm to where it stops into a knot of twisty scars.

“Two peas in a dreary pod,” Ezra says, hooked nose brushing over yours.

“I don’t like peas.” You chuckle.

“Another commonality,” he smirks.

He watches as you reach forward behind him and take a small jar from the shelf. You push it into his hand as you open the lid and begin to scoop out some of the waxy salve inside.

The balm, infused with cooling agents and healing properties, provides instant relief to your inflamed skin with a comforting warmth; soothing the rawness that bears the brunt of the day's chafing from your prosthetic.

He inhales the scent, lifting the jar to his nose and hums at the fresh, earthy aroma.

“Homemade.” You clarify.

“More potions from my talented sorceress.” Ezra smirks. “May I?”

You nod, holding the jar for him as he scoops out a small dollop, and rubs it between his thick fingers until the consistency turns thin.

“Tingly,” he says in wonder.

He runs it gently around your skin, rounding the circumference and across the calloused welts and blisters, soothing and massaging gently.

“That feel good?” He queries with a bewitching smile all of his own.

"So good, Ezra." You nod with a breathy hum and he watches as you lean forward and kiss his stump gently, mouthing over the fibrous knots and welts.

“Your mouth is Kevva sent,” he groans as he watches you.

You run your tongue over it, kissing up his shoulder and tasting the salt of his neck. Tasting him there as he fondles and rubs your knee gently, fingers slick with the balm.

“Your ministrations, although kind, are wasted.” He gasps. “I’m not a man that can be tamed. I fear it's been too long that I won’t be gentle.” Ezra warns.

“Neither will I.” You growl as you pull him to you, teeth tugging on his lips.

He engulfs you wholly; his hand swamping your back for support as you crush him towards you. His tongue slithers into your mouth and you suck on it, gasping as you feel his blunt nails rake up your back over your shirt.

“Here?” He pants around your succulent mouth. “Or the comfort of your chambers?”

“Here. There. I don’t care. I just want you, Ezra.” You groan, your body tingling and sweating.

You squeal in delight as he stands with you abruptly, his sole arm keeping you wound tight around his body as he steps into your bedroom.

“I may only have one arm, but you're safe in it.” He reassures you by gripping you tight.

“Never doubted it.” You say, nuzzling into the salted musk of his neck as you cling on around it.

He twinkles as he smirks at you; those dark eyes regarding you with a controlled enthral, left to marinate spicily in your thoughts and on the fine hairs of your arms.

Outside, the sky growls, bearing its teeth as Ezra lays you on the bed. He watches you unbutton your shirt and pull off your panties, revealing yourself fully bare in all your flesh and graces to him.

His eyes roam over the contours of your body, taking in the shape of your tummy, your hips, the swell of your breasts. The way your right leg curls up and the way your left, stopping at the knee, moves with a seductive fluidness to it just like the other.

Your entire body is his to freely claim, to roam unbidden. Slick pussy to drown in, to worship at the altar.

He's never been a good man, undeserving of the fruit you bear freely to him now as he licks his salivating lips. But you make him feel good; a small, insidious voice convincing him he’s unworthy is quashed inside his mind, silenced blissfully as you beckon him forward and allow him to touch, to explore.

He’s marvelled by his own restraint, wanting nothing more than to tear into you - pull you apart and put you back together again. Yet he’s rendered docile, eager to draw long, haunting moans out of you as he tastes and feels each of them, taking his sweet, glorious time instead.

“You’re so…” He fails to find the right word in his mental thesaurus to do it justice. "I want nothing more than to whelve myself inside of your tight, hot cunt right now." Ezra sighs, staring at your slick centre, an obvious tent growing in his pants. “But first, we must discuss logistics."

You giggle looking up at him. “Fuck logistics, just get over here and fuck me.”

He shakes his head in disbelief at you, spread out before him and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Can you ride me?” He kneels on the bed, pink lacing his cheeks. “It’s easier if you can, my balance is often maligned. A chin to the nose might be an unpleasant douse to the fire.”

“I can. I might need you to support me if we go hard.” You nod.

“I can do whatever you need.” Ezra smirks crookedly. "Slow, fast... hard."

“What do you need?” You ask him, reaching for his face and planting kisses over it.

He smells wildly acrid, a build up of sweat and grime from the city has sunk into his flesh, but you’re undeterred as your mouth runs over his skin. Your cunt is so fucking wet just inhaling the stagnant, earthy hidrosis of him; beads of your slick running out of you in a delectable tickle.

“I need you to sit on my face, pet.” Ezra instructs you through a strained grunt, his lips curling up over his teeth as he helps position you above him.

You lower yourself down onto his waiting tongue, holding onto the bed railings. His arm is firmly around you, as assured.

He licks burning acid on your pussy, dissolving you down to the chalk of your bones as he tastes you; groaning into your folds hungrily. You grind on his mouth, chasing that blooming high that tingles and leaves you clawing in his hair desperately as he tongue fucks you gloriously.

You're basking in the pure pleasure of his mouth and tongue lapping at your pussy, all consuming and euphoric. Losing yourself to that dreamy build up of tension that arches your back and curls your toes.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, suddenly all that tension is released and pulses throughout your body. You fall into a zen state of absolutely nothing - just white, hot pleasure coursing through your body.

You forget everything. Your name. The aches from your prosthetic. You even forget to breathe. He’s taken your body and mind to this exquisite place simply with his mouth and lets you fly and float around up in there until you come down, and then he’ll build you up again and again.

“I could lick you for turns, pet.” He snuffles through a satiated smile.

It makes you melt into him, crumpled like paper. Burnt up and falling ashy onto his skin. His stump rests against your thigh, prodding gently against it as his hand sweeps down your back and grips onto your ass, pushing your cunt further onto his mouth.

You move your hips, writhing against his tongue as he licks up onto your clit and you cry out in relief at how good it feels.

“You taste divine,” he muffles around your sticky lips.

He pushes his head up, lips squelching around to get right in as your thighs ripple and shake as he brings you to the edge once more. You're standing on the precipice of the universe and looking down into it's swamping, glittery depth.

You rest back on your hands, your fingers squeezing around the meat of his thighs as his one hand blazes a journey over your belly and towards your breasts where he squeezes and massages the left in his grip. His eyes stare up at you and you stare down, lips parting as your moans increase.

His tongue is precisely erratic, licking, sucking and flicking in all the places he can get to to draw your orgasm out and make it last. A kaleidoscope of colours stream in the room, their waltz blinding you as they swirl and merge. You can feel it all over your body, the heat, the burning as you tense and coil.

When you come again, it feels like you're floating once more; your body slack and wibbly as you gush into his waiting mouth. And as much as you could let him do this, for indeed many a turn, you want him in your mouth too.

You move with ease, comfortable to slide across the sheets gracefully and with speed that makes him grin. Pulling his pants down, you see him in all of his thick, weeping glory.

"Fuck, Ezra..." You murmur at the sight of him.

“This is how you make me feel.” Ezra pants as you stare at the hard swell of him almost lunging out his groin at you.

His cock feels imposing; heavy and smooth. A flushed pink head swollen and leaking profusely. You feel how hard he is, how he’s acutely dripping for you; strings of pre-cum coming away in your palm as he brings it up to his mouth and licks it away whilst eyeing you.

And you can’t explain what it does to your body, let alone your brain, at how wet he is for you. And hard, so fucking hard that it bulges angrily; a taut, thick vein popping off on the side.

“Take me to paradise, Birdie.” Ezra hums, as he watches you slither between his legs and take him in your mouth.

Ezra's eyes roll into the back of his head and he bites his lip until it bleeds copper rust on his tongue. He makes some intangible sound as he looks down at his fat cock sucked slowly and deeply into your mouth.

He brushes your hair away with shaky fingers, unsure and unfamiliar with such a gentle movement that he orchestrates, thumb stroking over your cheek.

“You can take it deeper than that. I know you can. Let me slide all the way down in there. Feel me in your belly.” Ezra grunts.

He bucks his hips as you swallow, your fingers scratching into the soft, wiry hairs in his groin and over his belly. He fills your throat and you feel him twitch when you suck harder.

He pulls your head back and tells you to spit on it. Smirking, you do as he instructs, and he watches as the globule decorates him in crystal strings.

“More,” Ezra keens, as you spit and drool over his cock further.

You’re panting for it; desperate to have him inside of your mouth again as he keeps it close enough, but just out of reach from your lips - teasing with that crooked grin lacing down at you.

But then, he finally lets you have it again, and is enthralled as you take him in greedily like you’ve been starved.

Humming in satisfaction, you suck him down and swallow deep, feeling him prod at the back of your throat as he guides and controls you with his hand knotted in your hair.

His grunts are felt on the end of your clit, his satisfaction tingling all through your body and you get off on getting him off; grinding your hips against the comforter on the bed as you suck, chasing your own release. Groaning out around his cock when the sheet catches your clit deliciously.

You pull him out of your mouth in a wet slurp and begin kissing around his groin; each little kiss peppering him and absorbing into his skin, leaving further fiery brands as you go.

You haven’t lost interest in his dick, still grasping him in your hand and running it over him, but you’re interested in all of him now, want all of him.

He’s drawn into your eyes as they look up at him, as you work your way across his abdomen and leave his hand to weaken inside of your scalp. It drops to your jaw as he helps you slither up his body and kisses you.

He’s surprisingly gentle, explorative and leaves no part of you untouched by his lips as he’s only too willing to return the favour. He lays back, his body weakening as you sit on his cock; your hands running through his hair, massaging his scalp as his head lolls back and he loses himself to the feel of your nails scratching through it.

You’re squirming and pushing yourself down on his length.

“Oh, you want it all, huh? Take it. Fuck my cock, pet. It’s yours.” He husks.

“You feel so good.” You whine, pulling on his hips as you work.

“I'm going to make a mess of you when I come.” He grunts.

“I want you to fill me up, Ezra.”

“Flood you,” he groans. “Fuck, I want to ruin you, but I want you like this too. It’s confounding.” He pants.

"Plenty of time to ruin me," you groan.

The infinite kaleidoscope only intensifies, becoming more vivid. Bursts of colour explode from behind your eyelids and are felt warming you all over as his cock nudges against the deepest part inside of you.

“Ezra!”

You feel his mouth roaming your chest. Sucking your nipples between his teeth as he alternates, pulling on them, teasing them hard; the tiny spots around your areolas standing and tightening too. Little pleasurable bumps that each have their own nerve centre that make your pussy twinge and drip like a leaky faucet over his cock as you ride.

Soon you flop forward onto him, your breasts hitting the hardness of his chest. That delicious pull deep inside your belly makes itself known. That tight, knotting before you’ll snap back and release.

His pants increase and those growls start to haunt. He’s close. It’s in the way he grabs and paws at you more sloppy now, like he can barely hold on anymore.

All it takes is an enticing whisper from you, telling him to come, to let go, to fill you up, and his teeth sink into your shoulder.

He groans and grunts deeply, hips stuttering and candid whimpers leaving his breath. All the atoms of his being spilling into you, thick and warm as he drips out of your cunt over his thighs.

And Ezra doesn’t let you go. He keeps you there, kissing you, glued to his chest, fitted around him like a perfect puzzle piece.

The surge-five still roars outside, but seemingly less consequential.

The acidic rains have moved on and the window of the bedroom is speckled with only a few streaks of wayward drops that the wind blows in squiggly lines around it; the tail ends of shooting stars before they die out completely.

A little snuffle beside your ear focuses your attention on Ezra, still asleep beside you in the middle of the night; his stumped arm poking out of the bobbled blanket, and his other still curled under your back and ending around your waist.

His fingers twitch occasionally, as he jostles and flinches in his sleep, still branding on the skin on your navel. You wonder what he dreams about to make him shudder so.

Your head tilts to examine his face in the darkness. The slow roaming from the blonde tuft so stark in his chocolate hairline, to the way in which his eyelids flutter restlessly as his eyeballs move under them as though something is alive.

He pelts your face with light breaths that are warm and hardened, and yet it’s a scent that doesn’t putrefy as you allow yourself to be bathed in the warmth of them.

You refute anything that’ll disturb your peace right now, such as the dull urge to urinate, instead cocooning yourself further into this moment right here in Ezra’s sleep laden grip.

He’s unlike any other man you’ve ever met and it leaves you breathless as you examine his face whilst he sleeps beside you.

Thick eyelashes adorn his swollen, sealed lids and a wiry scar is a slapdash carving below his left eye socket, leaving your imagination to ponder how he obtained it.

A thick velvet slug, matted with sweat and the residue of your slick, clings to his top lip, whilst the rest of his chin and neck is garnished with unruly stubble that's in the throes of growing in length and sparsity in hodgepodge greying patches.

His lips, pale pink and fuller on the bottom set, are chapped and sore, much like your own as you continue to gnaw on them whilst you mull the events over of how this enigma came to be in your sheets this night.

“See something you like, Birdie?” Those lips move with a small gruff tone.

“Merely spectating.” You reply back, softly.

“Spectating? I think the term is voyeurism.” Ezra smiles with his eyes still closed, and the creases around them grow in number and folds.

You smile and Ezra can hear the moisture in your mouth click around your teeth at such a close proximity.

“Your lament protests about sleeping on the recliner were just a bunch of who shot John, weren't they?” He croons into the skin of your neck, dipping his head as he stretches. You feel him inhale deeply against your skin.

Ezra wonders briefly if he’s suffered another loss, for his left arm is numb with the weight of you resting on it. He wiggles his fingers bringing them back to life and feels your skin warm against it under the blanket.

“Your practicality has been lampshaded,” he whispers. “Tell me, did you plot this tryst into fruition?” He chuckles.

“One would think this situation is amusing to you,” you say.

“It’s ah… something.” That brazen itch turns from ghastly mania into a settling excitement, an accepted wave of rapture that shakes his bones at your warmth and proximity; the blood in his body rushing towards the end of his cock at breakneck speeds.

“I fear I won’t be able to resist sordid temptation much longer.” Ezra repeats, a dirty grunt escaping through his strained voice.

“Then don’t. Defile me at your whim.”

The sound of his haughty chuckle is both harmonious and husky at the same time as it reverberates from somewhere deep in his chest cavity. Ezra is most attractive when he smiles and laughs, you think. It completely changes his stern, scowled face.

Perfect, puffy lips crooking up into his cheeks revealing a dimple that draws the eye in; a smile that could convince the sun into imploding. But his smile has dissipated and those dark eyes are prying into places they ought not to pry again.

"I'm going to annihilate you, pet." He whispers, grazing his lips against your own. "You think you can take it?"

You know you’re stupid to think you can do this; nudge him to the precipice and encourage as he jumps off it willingly. Coax him to show you the most depraved, abominable parts of himself and not have some repercussions come and bite you on the ass for it.

See him unleashed fully; the worlds across the Interplanetary cracking open and their suns splitting into two as he savages and ravages.

But you want him despite all the swill and misfortune; you want him to make you fall apart - to totally obliterate you. Use you as mere clay for his own twisted satisfactions as he leaves imprints and eternal marks on you that’ll blister and bleed.

The way he touches you, the way he doesn't shy away from your body leaves you wanting for the affection he drowns you in. He’s your missing piece making you whole. He dilutes your pain with his own making it bearable.

You shudder at the feel of his fingers softly stroking over your half leg; a ghostly touch that you acutely zone into. His eyes are still brooding into yours.

"Break me." You urge.

“I can smell your sweet stink all over me." Ezra grunts as his fingers slip down the between your ass cheeks, leaving a devastation of goose pimples in their wake.

You rest your clipped knee onto his hip, opening you up for him. You bite your lip, gnawing frantically on the bottom as the path takes a delectable turn towards your cunt.

Your head swims; the hairs on your body and nipples coming alive. Feeling high and giddy, balanced on that precarious cusp of passing out, but not quite managing to do so.

You breathe out slowly as his fingers pause; the burn of them felt deep inside your core already as you clench around nothing, and the throb of your clit aches and prickles with a pang of eager want.

Ezra’s gaging; reading your reactions and fine tuning into that solid will that you’ve been dismantling slowly over the course of the last turn spent with him.

He knows, for it’s ambushed his own impenetrable walls too.

He feels your hand clamp around his cock as the tension in your body pulverises at any remaining restraint you have. He strokes over your mound towards your clit, and as soon as he touches it - that hard, pulsing nub - you both groan out in unison. His fingers push into your pussy, slow and thick as you gasp.

Your other hand fists inside his hair as your face draws nearer to his own, your eyes zoning in on his lips that are wet as he licks them.

“I will destroy you.” Ezra breathes, admitting defeat. “I have nothing to give you, pet.”

“I don’t want what credits can buy from you.” You moan as his fingers swipe over your clit. “You see me.”

“I do. I see all of you. I like what I see.” He tongues at the skin at your neck. “You see me, too.”

“It’s kinda hard not to, you’re like a neutron star.” You smile.

“You trying to woo me, pet?” He smirks, as he slides down your body, kissing over it as he goes, elbow pressed into the mattress for support.

“Is it working?” You gasp as he abruptly buries his head between your centre, and lets his tongue go to work.

Your head is thrown back in the pillows, your eyes greeted with that dark void of space; the stars turning in their spirals as time slows down and he pulls you out from the inside.

Marvelling at the true alchemy of his tongue as it laps at your wet folds and he slurps you up like water, dehydrated like he once was on Kerulon. Transcending above the highest point in infinity and still climbing as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

Your hand fists through his hair, drawing him closer; his nose dusting your clit as his tongue fucks deep and swallows all the sweet honey you have to give him.

“All I can do is take you to the stars.” He grunts. “Is that enough for you?”

“More than enough.” You whine as you come around his lips.

Ezra then spends the rest of the night breaking you apart, piece by piece, and putting you back together again, just as he said he would.

His voice wakes you, but not from beside you where you expect him to be.

“Consarn it, you fumbling bawheid!”

You quickly reach for a tattered robe and grab at your crutches, wooden and rickety beside the bed, and follow the infernal muttering to the kitchen where he’s standing around broken cups on the floor.

Ezra glances up at you with razor wire for lips pressed into a thin line.

“Were you making tea?” You enquire through heavy lids, and he turns bashfully from you, the broadest back presented and littered with constellations of freckles and moles.

“Yes trying, but my cumber-world impairment-” he grits his teeth “-makes me sloppy. Fuck.”

Your gaze lingers curiously over him, determining him not to be an apparition but real; half expecting him to have fled already. You glance behind you and the Aurelac gem is still there on the shelf by the window as he left it.

“I can make the tea.” You smile softly, a hand reaching out to touch the expanse of his back, and his hackles immediately soften.

He steps to you, his singular hand finding the familiar shape of your waist as he pulls you close.

You take in the detailing on his worn face again. The way the pores on the smooth bump of his nose are marred with oil, the thickness of his brow; the entice of his full bottom lip.

Ezra wanders freely over your features too, from the shine in your eyes to the feel of your hair soft in his hand as he brushes his fingers through it like a comb.

He scratches up to your scalp massaging your skull as he steps closer into your personal space and your eyes close at the sensation of it, birthing millions of prickles across your skin; your nipples standing tall and hard beneath the slip of the gown you’d thrown on, like diamonds cutting through the thin fabric.

“How good does that feel?” His breath is drenched in a stale warmth on your face and you breathe the notes in deep.

"Really good." You breathe, nuzzling into his ministrations.

"Is your body defeated, pet, or can you take more?" He whispers into your crown.

You smirk. "More."

"Greedy." He snickers. "You'd make a fine Prospector."

Something’s hanging around in the air between you; something that’s unspoken. You’ve noticed it growing between you as the eventful turn has worn on into the night and seeks the new light of the dawn glowering through the smog.

It’s inside the delirious crookshank smile on his lips as he reveals it to you in between the comfortable silences when you talk. In his swampy brown eyes that take you in and feel as though he’s pulling you apart with them to see what’s really going on inside of your fibres and nerves.

And it's here again now as you linger, watching Ezra watching you, sensing that when the time comes to part from the questionable consternation of his company, it'll leave ruptures somewhere inside of you.

The black lacquer thoughts slither up from your spine and germinate insipid sparks into your core; a groundless lust that dizzies you from the smooth tickle of his fingers brushing down your hip and across your thigh.

You gasp as his fingers stray too close to your swollen centre, still drenched warm with his copious spend and aching from the stretch of him.

You’re weak for him; weak for those skilled fingers on his singular hand to be crawling inside of you and fucking you up, quite literally, as he weaves them in and out of your soaked pussy, curling them and wrapping you around them further.

“Ezra,” you gasp as he pumps them in and out, your balance swaying.

“Hold onto me,” he says, as you rest your crutches against the counter and wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls your only leg around his waist once more, hard cock bobbing at your perineum, lifting you with ease; his only hand resting on your ass, and carries you back to bed.

Ezra has you all over again, devouring, leaving his marks on your body. Revelling in the melodies of your panting chants of his name as he fucks deep and hard.

His lips part slowly as do yours, reacting to him. Drawn to him, drawn into him completely and controlled somehow like a puppet and he’s playing with your strings; plucking slowly and gently at you and you’ve no idea how.

No idea how you've gotten so willingly naked in front of a stranger, despite his strange appeal, and are allowing him to guide you like this. Thighs splayed open before him and showing him your most intimate self.

It doesn’t matter how, for it’s pure fucking bliss.

You slide down on his cock and ride him slowly, gently as his arm wraps you up and holds you close to him, almost crushing the life out of you as both you exertions wane.

You gasp out, letting his lips go as he fills you up again, makes you detach and lose yourself in this moment inside of his arms - inside of him.

And that’s the crux of it, you want to give him this, make him see that he’s worthy of love and affection and tenderness. You know what it’s like not to have that.

Ezra smiles faintly at you, giving into the feel of you lavishing your love on him.

He reaches down to grope your knee gently, and you shudder at the feel of his fingers brushing against it. You run your hand equally down his stump, and you watch as his eyes glisten before he scrunches them shut and crushes you against his chest as he spills inside you once more.

“The storm has quelled. I should take my leave.” He says distantly after, stroking over your smooth nub as it rests languidly across his torso. His gentle touch soothes better than the balm.

“You should stay.” You murmur, hoping he hasn't heard the longing in it. But of course, the plucky sleeveen has.

“We find ourselves in a quandary.” Ezra retorts as he draws circles over your skin with his fingers.

“Dare I ask what stories these tell?” You put to him as your fingers trace the marred lines over his sternum.

“Probably wise if you remain in the dark, Birdie. I was not a gentle man once upon a time.” His warning is stark, but his eyes are soft and velvety as you look at them.

“You know how to be gentle.” You sway.

He nods. “To those who I feel so inclined.” He nudges his nose against yours.

The skin of your knee is so soft despite the roughness of the chafe. It’s a sensation that imbues you with warmth rather than discomfort; his thick fingers caressing gently, exchanging heat between your skin.

You’ve never let anyone feel it before, but he doesn't shy away. Neither do you as you kiss and flick your tongue tenderly over the stump of his arm. You let your tongue dip into the jagged welts and fleshy riverbeds of his scars.

He hums out with his eyes closed as you explore languidly and find your way eventually back to his bruised lips.

He makes you feel seen, he makes you feel whole for the first time. And it’s a feeling you don’t want to let willingly extinguish. You kiss him deeply, fearing it might be the last time.

“Your hospitality has been most charitable, pet. The swell has dissipated satisfactorily.”

You sigh out. “This whole idea was just idiotic from the get go.” You’re already mourning the loss of him, another part failing to grow on your body, but he doesn’t move.

“Something I specialise in.” Ezra muses. But his smirk downturns when he sees your face. “Is that sincere affection you possibly harbour?”

“You think this whole time I spent with you was a ruse?” You frown.

He shakes his head. “I hope not. Did I fall victim to a spell?”

“I want you to stay, Ezra.” You say, reaching for his hand. “But only if you want to. There’s a place for you here, with me, if you want it.”

He closes his eyes, your knuckles resting on his lips, his thumb stroking over the hilt.

“You definitely have me under a spell. There’s no other possible explanation.” He hums as his eyes find yours staring back, unwavering. “You and your magic tea.”

“No magic. Maybe you just want to stay with me.” You smile, knowingly.

“Perhaps some things can’t be explained by the universe after all.”

“Perhaps it’s the Aurelac.” You snort. “That Siren song you Prospectors can't resist.”

Ezra shakes his head vehemently. “Maybe it’s just you, Birdie.” He smiles as he leans in to kiss you. “Maybe I finally found my missing piece.”

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Ezra, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

EZRA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #pedro pascal characters #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #prospect 2018 #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect fluff #tw limb loss #tw prosthesis #every body is beautiful #diversity #inclusivity #bodies series #jett's writing

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borntoocry · 4 months

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life and death and summer

trigger warning: death

summary: y/n's mom passes away and ellie is there to consolidate her.

wc: 1.4K

You hate the phrase ‘gone but not forgotten.’ When you lose someone, everyone and their mother uses it to try and make you feel better about who you’ve lost. They recall all their memories with your person and laugh while you sit in front of them with bloodshot eyes and sticky tears coating your face. But the truth is, more than half of the people attending your person's funeral will forget about them after a few months–five max. They will gasp and cover their mouth when someone brings it up and say, “Oh shoot, they passed away a year ago!” While you’re still retrieving all that’s lodged in your mind about them: their voice, their clothing, what they ate, what they did on the daily.

No one here thinks they’ll forget your mother, and it fuels your anger. It’s even worse that you’ve never even seen some of these people. Where did they come from? Who were they friends with? Surely not your mother–you knew who she was friends with because she didn’t have many to begin with. Your dad wasn’t friends with anyone, either. Unless siblings were counted as such.

Everyone is stuffing their faces with crackers and cheese from the cheese platter. You’re full of so much grief that you didn’t dare touch anything.

You move out of the room trying to gasp for air. Air that doesn’t consist of old lady perfume, laughter, smiles, or food. However, with each turn you find yourself faced with the same things. So you take the route outside where no one is occupying besides Ellie with a… joint in her hand?

You brush up beside her and she turns to face you. Her hair is choppy again, meaning she’s recently cut it with her own shears. She’s never liked going to salons or barber shops despite being told there are some people who specialize in whatever she wants.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask her, your hand slowly maneuvering into hers to steal her joint.

She easily passes the joint into your fingers and shrugs. “I hate funerals,” she says.

You nod. “I don’t know why I asked that,” you scoff, feeling stupid.

She nods. “Joel,” she says. “When he died, a bunch of people came to his funeral bearing food and gifts for me. Especially stupid words like, “You’re in our prayers,” or, “He’s watching over you.” I’ve never been really religious, you know? I think he is watching over me, but not from heaven. From the sky–the clouds, the stars.”

You nod and take a puff. You cough on this one. The entire day has been pounding its fists into you that the long and quite suffocating puff worked well. It quickly floods into your body and you instantly feel buzzed.

Ellie takes the joint from your hand and takes an excruciating inhale. She doesn’t choke up like you did, instead beautifully exhaling like the pothead she is. You watch her continue smoking because you’re buzzed enough to not mind the crowd inside.

“I didn’t mean to not reply to you,” you tell her, remembering the conversation you were having.

She shakes her head and turns to you, a soft smile gracing her lips. “The silence was the answer. I know how you feel, especially on a day like this. Everyone’s having fun while you’re mourning. And you’re expected to chat, smile, eat, but you can’t even bear talking about anything, much less about your mom.”

You lean into her more and lay your head on her shoulder. You want to cry, but to cry in front of someone else disturbs you. It’s almost revolting.

Ellie picks up on this, because she begins caressing your face, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You slowly let yourself cry. You cry so much that you have to push away from Ellie and sit on the back door steps. She follows you down and grabs your hand, rubbing circles into your skin. She even goes as far as kissing the front of your hand. You’ve never been loved the way she has done right now, and it’s not strange. It feels as though it was supposed to happen years ago.

You and Ellie have been friends since you moved into the city. Aka 13 years ago when you were only eight years old. She lived next door and had no friends beside a toy car named ‘Merry.’ And of course her father that found her in a trashcan. He didn’t really find her in a trashcan, but she has told you that since you met, so you obey her story.

Since you were eight and she was nine, you’ve remained in contact, knowing shifting details about one another. You may have drifted between your teenage years, but you know enough about her to consider her a close friend.

Ellie has always been nice to you, never fussing or hating on who you surround yourself with, who you’ve dated–which has been not a single person since freshman year; which happens to be when you came out–etc. The summer before your freshman year of college, you and her hung out more than you had in 10 years. You went to her college parties, drank, smoked weed, went out to eat, found hideout spots, and more you can’t recall. It was also the time you began forming feelings for her. Nothing came of it, but you’ve been holding onto that one summer for three years. And her kissing you–not your face, or lips, but your hand–has the blistering sunny days coming back like they were only yesterday.

However, you don’t want to keep thinking about her lips on the remainder of your skin, so you push away and gulp down more alcohol. She doesn’t stop you, just glances at you every now and then while she sips on a flask she took out of her coat pocket.

By the time half your bottle is empty, you can barely stand. It’s as if someone has taken the world and spun it like a yo-yo. You try grabbing onto the steps, a coat, maybe yourself, but you become frustrated and whine like a child.

A chuckle alerts you and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about Ellie–which is what you never wanted to happen. You gleam up at her and allow her hands to grab onto your elbows. She slides you up and loops her arm around your waist. She disposes of your bottle and takes you around your home into her backyard. She inherited the small home after Joel passed away–something she is very proud of.

It’s clean–her backyard. No signs of dogs, or animals, or even plants. It’s clean green grass and you feel like sinking in and lying in it, but she pulls you forward until she’s slamming you into a bed.

“Jeezusss,” you groan, grabbing Ellie’s coat. She falls beside you and says something you can’t really focus on. You turn your head to face her and watch her mouth as she repeats her words.

‘You need to sleep,’ she says.

You nod. “‘Kay,” you answer and shut your eyes. “G’night.”

And that’s all. Lights out. You say nothing more, think of anything else, dream of anything nor feel anything. You sleep in your alcoholic warmth and don’t even think about the puking you’ll want to do when you wake up.

That is until you’re awake at… 11 at night, coughing up a lung in Ellie’s toilet. She’s rubbing circles on your back, whispering incoherent words to you. You want to shove her off, but her acts of kindness slowly seep back into your brain. By the time you finish, you fall back onto the cold tile and hug your knees, digging your head between them to shut everything out. The memory of your mother’s funeral works its way into your head just as Ellie does and to see it all happen is gruesome.

“You alright?” Ellie asks.

You want to glare at her, but instead you shake your head.

She snuggles up beside your shaking body, smelling of vomit and alcohol. She kisses your temple and grabs your clean hand. She envelops your fingers with her own and sits with you as you shed more tears than you ever had.

She doesn’t judge. She doesn’t tell you to calm down when you can barely breathe. Or when your heaving leads to you throwing up. She kisses your cheek and temple every time and goes as far as setting up a bath for you once your stomach and mind have settled.

Your mouth says thank you but your mind cannot stop replaying the one summer three years ago. The feeling of lust or attraction seeps into your bones and you hope it isn’t friendliness she’s shedding.

#ellie williams #elliewilliams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams headcanons #oneshot #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #lesbian romance #the last of us #ellie williams x you

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physalian · 2 months

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Tackling Characters with Mental Health Issues (or, ‘Write What you Know’)

**Trigger warning for this entire post**

This is completely off the cuff and unplanned but here we go. I just read a book that POV switches between its two romantic leads. One of these leads was intended to be written with a severe case of generalized anxiety. I have confirmation from the author that it’s not an author-insert. This character was entirely based on research, not experience.

Without putting them on blast, because they really did try…. While ‘neurodivergent’ or ‘mental health disorder’ isn’t a protected class, it should still fit squarely under other topics you shouldn’t write about if you don’t experience it with a massive asterisk.

TL;DR: If you yourself aren’t part of X minority or suffer Z physical or mental disability, you should not be barred from writing characters with those traits. ***HOWEVER*** writing these characters struggling, suffering, or overcoming this given trait in a pro-cis, straight, white, neurotypical, able-bodied America is not yours to touch.

This suffering isn’t your story to profit off of, when you didn’t actually suffer any of it.

I cannot remember who said it and I am absolutely paraphrasing but for example: White authors can and should include characters of color (and I am a White author). White authors should *not* write about a character of color as their protagonist experiencing bigotry, discrimination, hate crimes, and all that hardship, at the hands of white society. It’s just not your story to tell, and all the research in the world will never give you the lived experience you need to do it justice.

Like, you can write about the concept of slavery existing in a fantasy novel. Or sci-fi. Or some Alternate Universe historical fiction. You cannot write about the American slave trade like you lived it and still suffer the ramifications of it when you didn’t, especially when it is the thesis of your entire book.

Anyone remember that awful Amazon movie, My Policeman? Based on a book written by a straight, white woman whose straight female lead took an entire narrative to whine about how she was jilted by her gay husband and his gay lover who she got arrested and institutionalized so she could keep her husband… and never told them? With the predatory 3rd love interest and the whole ‘liar revealed’ and… yeah. That one.

Unless you do the work very few authors are willing to do, with permission and encouragement and a backing from whatever minority you’re writing about and their stamp of approval that you knocked it out of the park, just don’t. Save yourself the headache.

—

As I read this book, and this entire character’s arc is about her mental health, for 100k words… why would you *want* to take on that responsibility? Why would you want to take on all that extra research, all the stress of making sure you get it right, all the costs of hiring sensitivity readers and the risk of your character falling apart with readers who do fit these traits?

Characters with mental health problems are very, very tricky to get right for one massive reason: Accurately depicting many disorders and anxieties means your character can come across as extremely unlikeable, uncompelling, confusing, and frustrating. These characters won’t make logical choices or arguments, they’re likely to self-sabotage, contradict themselves, argue in circles, and die on molehills they think are mountains. This is just what anxiety does to people in the real world. We are not always compelling protagonists, and we don’t always get happy endings.

Writing illogical characters takes a lot of practice if you yourself are not an illogical thinker and if you’re writing half a book elbow-deep in 3rd person limited, intimately trying to describe how this disorder impacts their daily life, you, my friend, have so much more work cut out for you than you anticipated.

So why?

It got very sticky very quickly when the message I took away from the book was “character A can love away character B’s anxiety” and that just… it’s just not how it works. That is a very dangerous mindset to have, for both parties involved.

Character A does not exist to “fix” Character B, nor should A exist to be B’s therapist.

Making A B’s “medicine” can encourage some dangerous codependency. Especially if they break up, B backslides and spirals, and A takes on guilt for not being there anymore, as if any of this is A’s fault.

It says that ‘curing’ anxiety just takes a little romance. Which. No. B has to love themselves, first, before they’re able to love anyone else or let anyone else love them.

It got stickier when the author accidentally wrote a trauma-induced ace who wanted to start liking sex to please her partner and not for her own peace of mind (with internalized self-hate for her anxieties around sex as if not liking it after a traumatic experience isn't completely justified), as if she wasn’t good enough with the boundaries she had. And the narrative backed it up because she was *cured* after a couple rounds in the sheets—I worked really hard on my Ace character guide to help stop people from doing this.

Had Character A accepted these boundaries B had, and these two come to a creative compromise around intimacy that B does like, it would have been so much healthier. B liked making out, just not being the 'recieving' partner, while A chose to die on a 'if we can't have the sex I want, I can't be in a romance with you' hill and it just broke my heart for B. B wasn't being picky. B was traumatized.

The worst thing you can do to your ace character is a) reinforce the idea that they’ve failed as a human because they don’t like sex and b) reinforce the idea that they “just haven’t found the right person yet” and this narrative hit both in the bullseye.

The author wasn’t trying to write an ace, I can tell, but aceness aside “good sex is the best cure to your sexual trauma” is… also, not great? If you yourself didn’t experience this? The point of all of this was clearly to attempt exposure therapy, it just got so bogged down with other problems that the nuance necessary to stick the landing was completely lost.

If this was fantasy, like Twilight, with Bella’s dangerous codependency on Edward in New Moon, mental health is not the point of that book. The author didn’t set out on a mission to provide respectful representation of depression and healthy relationship goals. It’s toxic as hell, but it also takes a backseat to the actual story and the audience who loves those books couldn’t care less about how toxic it is.

The books aren’t about Bella overcoming her depression. They’re about sparkly vampires and the dangers of… teen pregnancy?

It got even *stickier* when the character revealed she’d apparently been in therapy for a decade and a half, only for her therapist to shrug and go ‘I guess you’re stuck with it’ while her mental health issue became a physical health issue, because she should have had a crippling eating disorder that the narrative didn't at all take seriously.

Why would you want the stress of writing this?

—

I am not at all saying you can’t write anxious characters if you yourself are not anxious. But make that an ingredient of the pie and not the entire pie, yeah?

Ask yourself why you’re doing this. The fundamental argument of that book seemed to be “anxiety can be loved away” and from the very first page, it was doomed. That was the book’s thesis. The entire story hinged on the success of this depiction.

I can’t even be mad, because it wasn’t intended to be harmful, but it inadvertently reaffirmed so many dangerous and incorrect assumptions and stereotypes about mental health. Good intentions historically do not guarantee good results.

If you do not suffer from anxiety, you are still allowed to write a character who experiences it (Or OCD, specific phobias, BPD, what have you). I tip my hat to anyone willing to do all the work to get it right because those are all tall orders, but you aren’t blacklisted from these characters.

But with any minority, anyone who isn’t “cis, straight, white, male, neurotypical, and able-bodied” write a character who is also X, instead of an X stereotype, who happens to be your character.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writeblr #writing #character design #character development #mental health #mental health in media #anxiety disorder #anxiety #write what you know

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overthinkingtaleblr · 4 months

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My Jimmy Casket Headcanon Masterlist

I’ve seen a lot of talk about the world-renowned murderer recently, and apparently his birthday is coming up, so I figured now is as good a time as any to address this fan-favorite entity of stabbing and chaos. Jimmy Casket is an uncomplicated character in his core: he possesses people, he murders indiscriminately seemingly for fun, and he eventually goes away. He has possessed multiple people across time and space, he targets humans over animals, and he has a variety of secrets with uncertain origins that he’s dying to share. Or you’re dying for him to share them.

He is most likely something paranormal just because multiple people seem to be able to channel him, but what he is (ghost, demon, something else…) is completely up for debate. I’ll be sharing and attempting to justify my own idea, however alienating it may be… because seriously, I don’t think anyone else has ever had this take before.

What is Jimmy Casket?

Instead of opening with a history discussion, we’re opening with an identity consideration, since What Jimmy is happens to be important conceptually to understanding where he might have come from. I’ll list a bunch of options before explaining my personal headcanon. There’s lots of options to what Jimmy could be, though, and some are more paranormal or dangerous than others. This list does not imply that something is likely, but rather that it is an option based off the evidence we have about who the character is.

- Casket is a Persona

Basically saying that Jimmy Casket isn’t real, but his affects still are. He is a name that people put on when they want to do something terrible, but it is still their own will and choice to enact. It says terrible things about every person who claims to be Casket, but could compelling in its own rights. Arguably the most possible non-paranormal option, especially if we believe Casket when he claims to be world-renowned and infamous.

- Casket is His Own Living Human Person

All of those things that looked like/sounded like possessions? We’re ignoring those right now, Jimmy Casket is a completely separate living and breathing human being from everyone who he was thought to have control over. They probably just step out or run when he appears or something. Or maybe we’re using canon as a suggestion in this case, and we don’t ever need to have Casket and his flesh bags in the same room.

Long story short, this man has his own vessel and boy does he use it.

This one is only likely because trying to cut all the supernatural elements out of something that uses it as a crutch creates some rather odd concepts. Because of how he’s presented in the series, it’s nigh impossible to suggest that Jimmy Casket is 100% his own, separate, human being who has never had supernatural influence over others. Unless he does have a supernatural influence over others. Maybe he’s a witch of some kind who controls others like puppets. Maybe he’s a vampire who can see through and control his vassals.

I did actually read a fanfiction that had this concept a looong time ago, and I won’t lie, I really enjoyed the earlier chapters and still think about them. It did a lot of things differently and really leaned into the kind of horror of Casket being so destructive. Also the Acachallas were a mafia crime family and Ghost and Toast only appeared once in a flashback.

- Specifically Ghost has DID, Casket is an Alter

I try not to state my own opinions with this, but as someone who does not have DID, my understanding is that you have to be VERY careful when handling this concept for a billion incredibly fair reasons. Idek if anyone uses this… I kind of hope not ^^;

With Casket as an alter in a system, even (maybe even especially) if Casket is ultimately trying to help Ghost, it perpetuates the “evil alter” trope because Jimmy Casket is conceptually a serial killer.

Ghost is seen as more threatening because upsetting him could trigger Casket. It makes Ghost justifiably be seen as terrifying in the narrative For Having DID.

The main reason why murderer with DID is a common trope in my experience is so that even the killer doesn’t know what they’ve done, creating an extra conflict where they don’t realize they’re the culprit. Additionally, it makes the investigation harder if they get involved. This is a problematic trope similar to the ‘evil alter’ one and there are non-paranormal ways to do this without villianizing DID, including regular amnesia.

Even if Casket is ultimately good and not a serial killer, to have him kill ANYone and then have Ghost forget plays into this trope as well and suggests people with DID are in some way actively dangerous.

I’m not going to police anyone who uses Ghost and Casket to express themselves. I will say be very careful with your portrayal. You can have Ghost as a system without Casket being one of the alters in it. Additionally, if you think I got anything wrong in this explanation, lmk. Whether or not Ghost has DID is not important to the other options after this, he could or couldn’t, this one is just “Casket is apart of a/the system”.

- Ghost and Casket are a Jekyll/Hyde situation

There are two ways I could mean this, but either way it means that Casket and Ghost share a mind and not a body.

1. Jimmy Casket is the evil inside of Ghost separated from the rest of his mind and embodied in a way that changes their external appearance. The origin would have to be supernatural in order for that to happen. Think Jackson Jekyll/Holt Hyde from Monster High. Technically, this could be mistaken for a really poor portrayal of DID so I do suggest being careful with this one. Changing between the two would not be an active choice on either of their parts.

2, and the answer more common to Jekyll and Hyde, Casket is just another body and face, but that’s still Ghost’s mind in there. Ghost is using the persona of Casket to commit “evils” that he desires doing but doesn’t want the social repercussions for. This implies that he has a potion of some kind that he takes in order to trigger the change, making it a willful act.

Be careful with this one either way because even if you expressly state ‘this is not DID’, it could be seen as a poor interpretation of how DID works. (Raises hand I did this in a fic once and I’m cringing at myself as I type this.)

- Casket is Tied to “Knifey”

Jimmy Casket is an entity of some kind who possessed not Ghost, but the knife that Casket carries around. This can double up with another headcanon in this list, more likely the paranormal ones. (Casket is a human person and he’s also a knife lowkey doesn’t work—)

If Ghost was able to fully get rid of the knife forever, he would no longer deal with Casket. However, this option would also imply that something about the knife is enchanted to make Ghost desire keeping it around, or it’s physically tied to him and appears whenever he expresses emotions it can feed off of.

This also explains how other people get possessed by Casket, specifically since most of them seem to show Casket signs after being given a knife that could very easily be cursed. He may not be the only character who can do this, too.

- Casket is a Ghost who has History with the Casket Family

This one is soooo varied it’s hard to encapsulate all the possibilities. Either way, Casket is a ghost who was alive at some point, and he is possessing Ghost because they have some connection through Ghost’s bio family. Are they siblings? Is Casket his uncle? Grandfather? Father? A distant ancestor of some kind? An enemy of the Casket family? Someone who was wronged in the Casket family? I guess attempting to list all the options was unnecessary— the important part is that Casket was alive, he’s dead now, and he’s latched to Ghost.

I know multiple people who use/have used this interpretation before, so it lowkey has a special place in my heart.

- Casket is a Generational Curse

Ghost is not the first person in his family to have dealt with Jimmy Casket possessing his body before, and for all we know T.Casket was frequently possessed as well before Ghost was born. This would have been a well-known issue within the family… if there was any family left to warn Ghost. Implies everyone who has had Casket possess them is related to the Casket family, and that Ghost has been a vessel since Casket’s last host died.

Seeing as Ghost is not the first person in the family with an inclination to the supernatural, I could see Jimmy Casket being something put upon their family a long time ago for fucking around and finding out. Maybe they had an overzealous witch in the family who fucked everything up for everybody? Who knows.

This curse is likely tied to someone keeping a very very serious secret, and speaking it into the world is the only way to stop him, but they died a long time ago so Casket isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

- Casket is a Creation of the Housekeeper

This could double-up with another option, seeing as the Housekeeper seems to be able to manipulate a lot of supernatural things, or work on its own.

I specify this one just because it requires consideration on how Casket sees his creator. Does he like the Housekeeper? Does the Housekeeper have some level of control over him? Was Casket a normal entity before being exposed to the God of Chaos? Is Casket seen as the Housekeeper’s child (Demigod of Secrets Jimmy Casket, anybody?)? CAN Casket exist without Ghost for a host? Why did Casket react so violently upon seeing the Housekeeper face-to-face?

There’s a lot of options to consider here and a lot of them can really push a story forward.

- Casket is some Creature from Folklore

Anything with an obsession for blood, stabbing, and secrets and the ability to take over or control someone’s body. I’m certain there are a lot of options, knowing how wild a lot of folklore is (Chupacabra Casket, anybody?), and technically my own headcanon falls into this option.

This is a matter of specificity, and the only reason this is distinct from the other supernatural options is because it may change how evil/intentional his actions are, and it’ll wildly change how PIE would have to handle him.

If you want Ghost to be from a specific country or have ties to a specific culture, this could help immensely in connecting him to it. It also means that you could have a WILD design for what Casket looks like and how he differs appearance-wise from Johnny Ghost. Ppl who love monster designs and mythology research could do SO much with this.

Plus, most folklore are used as legends to warn children not to do certain things. If Ghost did one of those stupid things, it creates a personal explanation to how he got possessed without throwing his family under the bus, and gives you the opportunity to make your own story as to what happened.

- Casket is a Demon

Similar to a ghost, someone in the Casket Family history screwed up and now Ghost is facing the consequences. Demons and ghosts are very different and can be handled in very different ways. Maybe Casket’s a fallen angel and still has some good in him? Maybe Casket is evil to the core and LIVES to wreak havoc and ruin Ghost’s life, relationships, and more.

I’m sure there’s someone out there who better understands demons than me, be in-universe, they are powerful and horrific with a host or not. This makes Casket one of the most active threats in the universe.

Although unlike the ghost option, Johnny Ghost could have brought this upon himself by being a stupid moron and trying to summon a demon as a child and screwing up to a dangerous degree. He would do it.

- My Headcanon : Jimmy Casket is a Unicorn

Technically the same as Folklore but more specified to being an in-universe entity, Jimmy Casket is a Unicorn— a creature from the 13th dimension best represented by Stardust Sprinkleshine. I’m not sure how much of their history is canon and what was my own thoughts, but if you touch a Floating Gun that seems to exist outside of Space-Time, one will exit from a pocket dimension and possess your mind. Touching the gun again puts them back, and most seem to choose to return.

I think that Casket is a particularly crafty unicorn who managed to figure out how to not be sourced from the floating gun, either being tied instead to his knife or to a human body. He’s possessed multiple characters long-term throughout the series, and if he’s able to burrow deep enough into someone’s mind, he could completely take over their body.

I also think he was Mothman in a video where a young Johnny Ghost is terrorized by Mothman on a Halloween Night. I think that Casket somehow lost his old host and needed to find a fresh one, grabbing the first human he could find. I don’t know if the mothman is his true form, Casket mutating an animal body, or the dying body of his old host falling apart while Casket tries to operate around rigor mortis. (Spoilers for my ask blog 🤫)

Casket is not a creature who can be reasoned with outside of secrets, fun, and violence. He can possess anybody in PIE, won’t show up on ghost sensors, and can’t be warded away with most options. I think this is the primary reason why Johnny Toast hasn’t attempted to ward him off, despite seeing how much Casket hurts Ghost. Additionally, Casket can easily possess anyone on the team, including Toast, if they get on his nerves enough.

Horrifically, as a unicorn Casket can also largely bend the logic of the world, making him hard to catch and even harder to handle.

… He may eventually be somewhat defanged if treated with humanity and compromise, but he’ll always be kind of terrifying if he gets riled up. He’s like a wild animal if zoomies meant death. I can’t imagine he’d be that helpful in an investigation though.

There we go, ten options and my personal opinion! Hope I encapsulated everyone’s idea <3

History Headcanons

This is how I personally see Casket’s story up until the general point in canon where I tend to place things, and I’m not really considering videos in this. This is what I, personally, think and it may not have any basis in canon whatsoever.

- 13th Dimension to Freedom -

Before the Unicorns entered the floating gun, they existed on their native world in the 13th Dimension. They might have even been less crazy than they tend to be in the modern day, existing mostly as creatures of magic and a type of technology unfathomable to humans. Not quite “Jimmy Casket” yet, the unicorn who would one day become our point of focus didn’t have much reason to be considered differently than other unicorns outside of just being his own “person”. Maybe he has a specific emphasis for honesty, maybe he’s more likely to turn to violence, either way he isn’t a public figure or anything. He’s just a normal guy in his own society… I think Unicorns may also somewhat be a bit of a hive mind.

Then everything changed when the “Fire Nation” attacked. In all seriousness, Prince Fang and his family have been conquering dimensions for an incredibly long time. Their approach wasn’t subtle, and the unicorns took their chance to run when they realized what was coming. Tying a doorway to an item from a dimension the dragons wouldn’t be able to reach for a long, long time and tossing it through, the unicorns basically funneled into a pocket dimension tied to the doorway to escape. However, they didn’t think too hard on where they’d end up, and the doorway ended up in a position where no one could leave for literally years, kind of driving most the inhabitants to insanity.

I don’t know if the unicorn who would become Casket just used a different exit from the others, or if he took the first chance he got to get as far away as possible. Either way, the unicorn or focus managed to get away from the trap they accidentally built themselves, but still had really nowhere to go. Managing to tether his spirit to a human host long-term and eventually a blade whenever the human didn’t work out, he was free to do whatever he wanted. Not at all socialized to human cultures, that mostly led to murder while he learned how to co-exist with a host. Having as many hosts as he did, it kind of gave him a bunch of secrets to inherit as well as he moved from person to person. I imagine that any secret Jimmy tells is one that previously belonged to someone he lived as, usually picking someone who might be known to the victim.

While in the beginning, I think he tried to be in control 100% of the time, but kept either wearing himself out or breaking his victim’s mind or body, which is why he only pops in when something interesting happens now. How long this took for him to realize would be difficult to decide, since I’m not even sure at what time Jimmy entered the world. Either way, he’s a boy with a bladed weapon and a desire to wreak havoc.

- Wild West -

I don’t know how many other hands Casket found himself between before a young Johnny Ghost, but I know the identity of one. In spite of his generally cagey nature, Casket found his host dead after an encounter with the Acachalla Gang in the Wild West, but survived solely out of luck. Either due to an interest in a knife at the campsite from one of his attackers, or latching to the first one that seemed to be susceptible, Jimmy came to possess one of the gang members as his old host passed away without anyone noticing. Craving freedom and realizing this body would live for an incredibly long time, he decided to take a bit of a different route then usual.

To the rest of his family, Kermit Acachalla developed a new and passionate interest in knives, specifically one knife. And then an increased tendency to turn to violence. Maybe if they weren’t literally a gang, they would have picked up on the red flags sooner. It wasn’t all on them to notice, though, as Kermit frequently traveled one-on-one with a close friend who Casket would sometimes possess instead, depending on what he wanted to do when they separated. One was a lot more likely to bend to his will, the other one could literally travel through time, often giving Casket the opportunity to wreak havoc on the future. Eventually, the time traveler grew wise and Casket figured that was as good a time as any to stick with Kermit long-term… and also lowkey drive the man to insanity.

Kermit the Claw became a well-known serial killer, one who eventually killed Johnny Ghost Senior in a skuffle but got mortally wounded in the process. It took Casket an uncomfortably long while to find a suitable host after living easy for almost a hundred years, and then when he thought he had one, some stupid ghost hunter tried to banish him. He wasn’t picky though, and found someone else soon after.

- Johnny Ghost -

This is why you don’t go out alone, kids. You never know when mothman will corner you in an above-ground pool and possess your face. While I don’t think Ghost was specifically targeted, I think Casket’s old host had been in the area for long enough to know that Ghost and the “ghost hunter” that attempted the banishment were living in the same house. What he did Not know was that he was also the son of the Johnny Ghost who he murdered a year or so prior, really giving Casket a goldmine of trauma to work with. Weakened from a lot of crap that happened, including the attempted banishment and possessing someone with experience in keeping someone out of his head, Casket could only really take control if Ghost was feeling enough of a heightened emotion, rather than just whenever he felt interested. He found it didn’t really stop him, though, Ghost being Incredibly passionate.

He’s basically been living easy ever since. Whether it be Johnny Toast or Peewee Ghost trying to hold him back, they’re ultimately his biggest enablers of all time. Between the hilarity of Ghost’s stress and the effort his loved ones put into cleaning Casket’s messes, he can do whatever he wants whenever he wants it. Casket was basically out 24/7 while Ghost was in college, and he’s more resting now that Ghost has graduated. He’s grown rather fond of this life. Mostly because it constantly gives him the means to leave bodies in his wake.

Relationships

Johnny Ghost

“This kid can fit SO many problems into him!”

DAMN he has issues, and Casket is obsessed. Sometimes he likes to just sit and watch Ghost fail at being a human being without any intervention whatsoever. It’s just that hard for him on his own.

Casket has a lot of control over Ghost’s memories, and he finds it funny to just eat as many of them as possible. There is no telling what Ghost does or does not have an understanding of thanks to Jimmy Casket. This is why Toast wrote the book out of the two of them.

Kind of holding Ghost’s body together Venom-style, and if Casket ever leaves Ghost will both experience a rush the of memories that Casket was suppressing and possibly an organ failure. It’s now because of this that Casket does not jump possession, even though he sometimes really, really wants to.

Johnny Toast

His first choice for someone else to possess if the opportunity presents itself, Jimmy thinks it’s hilarious that Toast seems to be under the impression that he can be in any way shape or form “held back”.

Thinks that there’s more going on with him than he makes obvious, mostly because Toast absolutely has ‘latent but incredibly strong power rests inside of me’ vibes, and Casket can tell.

Weirdly enough, he does not approve of the drug dealing.

Peewee Ghost

Jimmy found it hilarious how much effort Ghost’s father put into trying to get rid of Casket without Ghost noticing. Sometimes he’ll still poke out when Ghost visits home just to taunt him. Hard to attack him, though, the house is covered in safety wards and curses and stuff to stop Casket from getting to feisty.

As much as Peewee hates Casket, he and Ghost are a package deal, meaning Peewee will clean up any mess Casket is too lazy to take care of himself, so long as he’s willing to sit through a lecture and multiple threats.

Fred “The Spooker” Soup

Thinks that Spooker would be his favorite person on the team if he were to just go crazy go stupid. It’s why Casket will jump out and kill Spooker all the time— he’s kind of hoping the guy is going to snap and try to get Casket back some day.

It hasn’t worked yet, but come on, how much longer can the guy have before his patience wears thin?

I think Spooker x Casket is a viable crackship bc i find it funny. Maybe not if the Casket is as murder-motivated as mind, but I could see it happening otherwise!

Chris “Colon” Ghostie

Colon hates that the team harbors Casket from justice, Casket thinks Colon’s righteous indignation is hilarious.

Casket will sometimes admit to cold cases that he might not have even done just to get Colon upset with him for getting away with it. Colon is the most invested in looking for a way to banish Casket for good.

Katrina

“The power of love failed you? Better Luck Next Time!”

His first victim after possessing Ghost that didn’t happen to be an animal or something like that. He was kind of hoping it would be enough to emotionally destroy Ghost, but found that others in her family took the loss a lot worse.

If she survived, it would have been a good lesson not to trust everyone who claimed to be your friend when you knew he was hosting some kind of evil spirit. She was a little too optimistic for her own good.

Johnny “Roast”

Jimmy genuinely considered switching from Ghost to Roast, feeling like Roast had a bit more of an underlying violence to him.

After seeing how poorly he took his sister’s death, and how much misdirected anger he lashed out with, Casket decided it would probably be more rewarding to watch this kid spiral on his own. At this rate, there was no way he was going to develop “Healthy Coping Mechanisms” or whatever that means.

If given the opportunity/if something ever happens to PIE, Roast will absolutely be his first pick for a new host.

Gavin Toast

“What do you MEAN there are two of them?”

Since Casket possessed Ghost after Toast moved back to the UK, Casket didn’t meet Gavin for a loooong time, and their meeting what a very confusing experience for specifically Casket.

Gavin is, weirdly enough, a little bit too normal for Casket. Casket can also tell that out of everyone, he’s the most likely to get Ghost arrested so that Casket faces justice. Mostly because every vengeful spirit will bombard Gavin any time the two are near each other, begging for retribution and Gavin does not think Ghost’s freedom is worth it.

Plus, Ghost has means to get out, he’ll be fine.

Johnny Cranky

“I dunno what your deal is, but you had me at joining a team named DIE.”

Exactly what it says on the tin, Jimmy is ready and willing to be apart of Cranky’s weird club so long as it means he gets to do some stabbing.

He doesn’t really consider Cranky to be anything other than a conduit for murder, he’s barely even a person to Casket. Casket frequently ignores him, talks over him, walks out of the room mid-conversation, and other things that really show that he does not care about Cranky’s existence.

Cranky only puts up with it because he thinks Casket is too dumb to realize he’s being rude. He’s not.

Cardboard Friend

“Back off! You already gave up on this one, it’s my turn!”

No matter what CBF is, no one ever said that Jimmy Casket had the common sense not to pick fights with demons or vassals of gods...

CBF, whether good or bad, is emotionally distressing for Ghost. While Casket appreciates the easy exit into the world, he does NOT want CBF to be near him. Either because CBF is a threat to the body (that Casket lives in) or CBF loves Ghost and is a threat to Casket, they do not get along at all.

Trivia

I do think he met T.Casket at some point, but I think they got out alive mostly out of dumb luck, and Casket still hasn’t realized that he’s the same person as Ghost’s dad yet. He probably knows a secret or two about the guy.

Jimmy is probably afraid of old people because he finds old age to be one of the most disastrous things to experience. He wants to be able to move around as much as possible, and an ailing body is probably an uncomfortable one to be in if you have the chance to move between them.

Could also be memento mori, a reminder of death would be uncomfortable to a being that is just barely not immortal.

Going by a bunch of other names throughout the time he’s had on the world, the name Jimmy Casket mostly came to spite Ghost’s family. Feeling bad about Ghost knowing so little about himself, his dad (Peewee) tried explaining his bio family and the CBF incident to him, and at the time Ghost understood and though he needed time to process it, he didn’t take the news horribly. Casket basically ate the memory of that conversation and took the family name specifically to mock Peewee’s efforts.

Jimmy taunted Toast about killing his wife once and got shot to death for his efforts. Jimmy considers this his most rewarding interaction with Johnny Toast of all time and doesn’t bring up Mary just to not spoil the memory of that interaction.

CBF and Jimmy might’ve met before Jimmy could possess Ghost but after Gregory ran away. Jimmy probably attacked it at the time, and it was likely in a weakened state, which is why it’s genuinely kind of afraid of him, even if its more powerful than he is.

Started a diary and wrote in it whenever Ghost stumbled upon it just SPECIFICALLY to scare Toast when he eventually stumbled upon it.

Would absolutely spill the secret about the Destroyers of the Investigators Extraordinaire existing and Spooker being offered a membership roll if he thought it would tear PIE apart.

Has had rabies before.

Bites.

#taleblr #taleblr headcanons #taleblr headcanon Masterlist #headcanon masterlist #jimmy casket #might add more in the future

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yanderes-galore · 2 years

Note

Halloween request! Werehog Sonic (form Unleashed) with the prompt P-3, please?

Sure!

Prompt Found Here!

Yandere! Sonic The Werehog Prompt

(Halloween Event - Werewolf)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

P-3: "Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Hunting, Blood, Obsession, Open ended, Kidnapping implied, Eating of another person implied, Werewolves, Murder.

One of a canine's strongest senses is their sense of smell. They can remember scents if they are exposed to it often. They are also skilled hunters.

To be hunt down by a werewolf is a situation hard to escape from. With a superior sense of smell and hearing, they can easily find their prey. No matter where you hide...

"It will only be a matter of time before I find you... please, just come out."

You don't listen to the growling voice urging you to come out. Instead you stay far away from him and continue moving. Hiding from a werewolf is a nearly impossible task.

Unless you try to mask your scent, which even that is hard to do. You had nothing to do it with and strong perfumes or body spray may just draw him closer to you.

"Look, I'm sorry you had to see that. It must be scary to see your best friend turn into a beast like this-"

The voice sounds sadder and familiar, yet you continue to ignore him. Your breathing picks up softly when you hear him approach closer, you responding by keeping your distance. The moon gleams brightly above you, its light causing your distress.

You had a friend named Sonic, a sweet blue hedgehog hero. You thought he was the same friend you always knew when you met up with him again. Then, it became night.

Before your eyes Sonic became a beast. His fur a darker color, sharp teeth and fangs growing out, he also got... bigger.

He begged you not to leave. That he's sorry you had to witness this... he was no monster! Then, when you went to console him, he lunged at you.

He lunged at many near you, too. The sweet blue hero you once knew was now blood-thirsty. How could you not run?

Were you just supposed to hand yourself over after you saw him wreak chaos across this city?

"Come on, (Y/N)... I smell you're near!"

You were not going to survive the night. It certainly felt like that when the beast came closer. Claws tapped across the ground, soon you couldn't run.

A metallic scent invades your nose when Sonic comes closer. You breathed heavily, tired of running and overcome with fear. Green eyes peer around the corner before focusing on you.

Blood. Blood crusted on the fur of your friend. Such an endearing title you felt he no longer deserved.

Not with the amount of blood staining him.

He was feral. An animal created by Eggman, his worst enemy. Could anyone predict this much carnage?

"Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

"Stay away from me- You're not right in the head right now..."

"Don't push me away, I get so wild when you're not here!"

He steps closer, cornering you.

"GO AWAY!"

"I really adore you, (Y/N)... now please, just help me."

His claws were out and mouth open wide.

"I'm sorry I have to do this. I hope you can forgive me...."

He pounces, lunging at you once again. You scream but it's cut off. Everything goes black and the night is silent....

You had no chance running from a beast that could smell you from miles away.

Even if he was once your friend.

#yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere sonic the werehog #panther halloween event 2022

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koffing-time · 1 year

Text

Hello Hello ~

My name is Tix (they/them, occasionally it/its), and welcome to my rotomblr blog! I'm 23, I'm from Unova and i have a small café on Route 3 right outside Striaton City. If you don't find it, just look for the Daycare on the hill, walk up that hill and look for the building at the foot of the hill! And now come in and get a cupcake, you earned it!

Don't be alarmed by the poison types around here! Most of them are registered to me and are completely harmless unless you touch them. They are also friendly, so if you wanna pet them, ask me! I'll gladly provide handling advice.

I also have an employee, Olivia. I might occasionally mention him. Maybe she'll also make a few post here and there.

There is also Brandy, my Rotom. Let's hope they can behave!

As for my Pokémon, there are a few! [Complete list of Pokémon including retcons at the end in the ooc section]

My Koffing, Coffee! The shop's named after him!

Bienenstich the Scolipede, she's very good with kids. If you need someone to look after your toddler, she's the gal! (i am so not kidding)

Cream the Haunter. No, your drink isn't haunted, she just helps me out a bit.

Muffin the Roselia, he's the primary gardener. I would do more around there but he doesn't let me.

Poppy the Toxicroak, he's a cool guy. He also makes music with me.

Basil the Toxtricity. Best bassist i've ever met (sorry Roxie).

Carrot Cake the Clodsire. He doesn't do much, but that's okay.

Rhubarb the Ekans. Little rascal. Don't trip over him.

Eggplant the Skorupi. He's new, still getting to know him myself!

Soup the Grimer is also quite new. I hatched him from a strange egg.

Also here's two pics of me. (//i forgor what the picrew were. if anyone knows, let me know)

OOC below the cut:

// Hi, hello. I run this blog as a side blog, so I'll like and follow from my main @fire-water-grass-core. If you need to address me (the player/mun), I'm okay with any pronouns, and if you need a name you can call me Kama, Nox or Cheese. I also run:

@zekrom-sword where i explore some darker themes (ig?) regarding pokémon hunting. This blog is less focused on blogging though and goes more into headcanon/fanfic territory. I'm happy to RP with Felix (muse over there) though!

@fire-water-grass-core is the main, as mentioned. Originally it was planned for that one to be a personal blog for Olivia, Tix' employee, but i didn't really get into it. I mostly use it for OOC stuff regarding rotomblr ig?

@kamataros is my general, non-pkmn-irl blog. idk what you would want there? but feel free to check it out. I post a lot of shit and a lot of it is untagged.

NOW for the rules ig?

ZERO: don't be a dick. easy, right? right. This is the important part :)

First: blanket #unreality warning. I will tag posts usually as pokemon irl, #pkmn irl or #pokeblogging. The actual unreality tag is reserved that genuinely blends reality and fiction (such as talking about animals in the context of the pokemon world.)

Second: i went on a BIG hiatus for like 6 months. I've retconned a few things, but i didn't want to actually go through the blog and delete stuff. Instead, i tagged all old posts as #Koffing-Time-1.0. Everything with this tag is not neccesarily canon anymore. case-to-case basis i guess.

Third: If anything comes up, I'll try to put a warning tag. I'll keep it to one format: #cw [trigger]. I will probably still use them sparingly, since i'm personally okay with most things. Please tell me if i should tag something.

Fourth: I won't participate in high stakes a lot and probably never in ultra stakes. Everything will be appropriately tagged #high stakes pokereality on the off chance that i do join. I don't think i will be getting into details like "low stakes" and "medium stakes" for tagging.

Fifth: Regarding sentient/sapient pokémon: VERY FEW pokémon will are actually sentient in Tix' canon. More humanoid pokémon will behave more human-like (i.e. Mareep is just a sheep, but Gardevoir is almost like a human). Known Exceptions are Porygon, Rotom and select legendaries.

Sixth: Ask games will be tagged with #ask game. Once i reblog them, they are open indefinitely, including old ones from #Koffing-Time-1.0. The tag will be for the initial meme only, not the answers to make it possible to find them. Generally, please put the question for the meme into your ask, especially if it's an older ask game. (Feel free to ask Brandy or Olivia as well, but if not specified it will be Tix answering)

OTHER TAGS:

Out of Character posts will be tagged with #ooc . This goes only for posts where a significant portion is ooc.

Out of Character answers to asks will be tagged #cheesy answers

Out of Character notes will be marked as // or //ooc (including tags)

I might reblog art or even posts that tix isn't involved in. these will be tagged #//reblog

Posts involving details about certain headcanons will be tagged #headcanon

Image descriptions or Video description will be in [brackets] .

Also here is a (not complete) list of a few headcanons that i use.

I'll update and edit this post as well as reblog it if something changes.

Lastly

I, Cheese, Mun will use pink coloured text in addition to the //

Tix will be writing/talking in colourless text

Olivia will be writing/talking in blue text

Brandy will be writing/talking in red text

otherwise, i won't use much colours in posts. this intro blog stuff will be the exception to make it easier to read (i hope)

That being said: feel free to interact, feel free to send a DM, feel free to send asks, I'm happy to do offscreen posts and RP and whatnot, I won't bite and i won't poison you. Probably.

PS: little thing about reblog chains (i guess?)

Now, that was a long one. If you read it all, congratulations, have a cookie. Or a coffee. And most importantly: have fun!

PPS: Here's a list of Tix'Pokémon:

Coffee the Koffing

Muffin the Roselia

Bienenstich the Scolipede

Cream the Haunter

Poppy the Toxicroak

Basil the Toxtricity

Cracker the Murkrow (retconned) [it hurt me to do this but there are so many already]

Cheese the (shiny) Crobat (retconned) [it hurt me to do this but there are so many already]

Rhubarb the Ekans

Chocco the Salandit (retconned)

Carrot Cake the Clodsire

Pumpkin the Bellsprout (retconned)

Loaf the Trubbish (retconned)

Yoghurt the Yveltal (retconned)

Bun the (ultra domesticated) Trubbish (retconned)

Roll the (ultra domesticated) Tubbish (retconned)

Appleslice the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (reconned)

Bacon the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (retconned)

Lettuce the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (retconned)

Tomato the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (retconned)

Caramel the Beedrill (retconned)

Tofu the Sliggoo (retconned)

Annie Stonefruit the (albino) Cranidos (retconned)

Jack the Pumpkaboo (retconned)

Brandy the Rotom

Eggplant the Skorupi

Leonard the bed-sized Clodsire Plush

Soup the Baby-Grimer

If all of Tix team appear in a post (i doubt) it'll be tagged with #tix band

Also a list of Olivias Pokémon

Hans the Lotad

Grill the Darmanitan

Marbles the Alolan Exeggutor (tagged with just #marbles the exeggutor )

The Kalosian the Escavalier (tagged with just #kalosian the escavalier)

Beach Ball the Gible

Gregor the Gimmighoul

If all of Olivias Team appear in a post, it'll be tagged #olivias gang

#pokeblogging #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokeblog intro #intro post #ooc

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schizosamwincester · 2 months

Text

Hello! Welcome my sideblog! If you want to see me post about not Supernatural, my main is @drowninginredink.

If you're not going to read this introduction, it/its please, yes I am actually schizophrenic, and beware, incest lies ahead. The rest is below the cut.

Fics:

Sissy - trans femme!Dean/John

I remember when your head caught flame - Sam/John, underage, first kiss

Webweaves:

Sober II/samjohn

I Haven't Masturbated in Five Days for Fear of Crying/wincest

Z-E-P-H-Y-R/Sam and Dean (and the Impala)

less words/wincest

Bike/wincest

Father/deanjohn

San Cristóbal/Sam

All the posts about my pet headcanon are tagged "#schizophrenic sam winchester." Creative, I know. The occasional solely schizophrenia related posts are tagged "#schizospec education." Queue tag is #hallqueuecinations and oh boy do I have way too much stuff queued. I do tag ships so you can filter them out if you want to, but like... I am a johndean and wincest person. If you really don't want to see that, you should just leave.

I am watching SPN for the first time and am currently on episode S2 E2. I told myself I was going to wait until I finished S2 to start this blog... and then until I finished S1... and then my queue hit 100 posts and I realized I should just start it already. That said, don't worry about spoiling me. Trust me, I've already been all over SPN tumblr. And yes, I am already headcanoning Sam as schizophrenic despite having not yet gotten to the part where he actually hallucinates. Pretty early on, I'd seen enough from the fandom to know that Sam was going to give me ~feelings~ as a schizophrenic, but Home was what sold me on it. The way he responds to the vision is exactly like my experience of delusions. It's like having blinders on. You can't think about anything else and you need to figure it all out and fix it right this minute. It's urgent and obsessive in the same way Sam was. His body language, too, was just perfect, down to just what he did with his hands. I look at Sam, especially Sam getting visions, and I see myself. So. Sam Winchester is schizophrenic. Not in some "Sam hallucinated the entire show" way (God I hate those theories) or that none of the supernatural stuff is real. Everything we see is real, but Sam's brain also pulls some shit of its own.

A very important note, given the name of my blog: schizo is a slur. I reclaim it a lot. I was diagnosed by people who want to change the definition of schizophrenia, and so for a long time, I was explicitly told not to call myself schizophrenic. That's bullshit. My symptoms aren't quite traditional, and I am at the more mild end, but as per the current DSM? I'm schizophrenic. But because for a long time I got told "you're schizo-spec, but not schizophrenic," the word I associate myself with more than anything is schizo. I try to actually write out schizophrenic when I'm on this account, but in real life, I usually don't. But if you are not anywhere on the schizophrenia spectrum, you should not say it (unless you're tagging me). I don't want my handle to give anyone the idea that you can go around calling Sam a schizo. I can. You can't.

My purpose isn't directly to educate about schizophrenia, but I know that the general cultural perception of it misses a lot, so just by shouting about how I headcanon Sam as schizophrenic, I will accidentally teach you all things. In light of that, there will be the occasional reblog of not at all SPN related awareness posts, and my asks are always open. You all have my permission to ask rude and personal questions about it that you should not ask strangers. Schizophrenia is basically a special interest of mine at this point. I am very open about stuff, not so much because of desire to educate or what have you but just because part of my schizophrenia is having very little filter. I will say that if you ask me about the delusions I've had, you're going to get an incomplete answer because going into them too much can be triggering. Everything else is on the table, though.

My banner is from this webweave (which I made).

And once again, I am very much johndean trash, with a strong love for samjohn. I do certainly partake in my fair share of wincest as well, but really, I'm here for The Dad Ships. Point is, this blog is very much not an incest-free zone. I'd say that I'm sorry, but I'm not. You're watching The Incest Show. What do you expect? If you do not like that, block me now and move on.

Fun fact: my birthday is November 5. No wonder I eventually broke down and decided I needed to see what SPN actually was.

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thesugarhole · 7 months

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Barring obvious potential triggers, would you recommend Human Centipede? Like just as a movie to watch? (I have never seen it)

table of contents: do i recommend it? / triggers / my opinion / red flags analysis (for funsies)

warnings for: possible spoilers out of context, unsanitary/surgical discussions, long post

do i recommend it?

alright so, before i begin i wanna say im not the type to have definitive answers to recommend / dont recommend unless its something i Extremely Liked (darkest dungeon for example). so i would recommend it in a " idk tbh lol" way. so this is all my personal, unrevised by Movie / Horror Professionals, opinions, take with a grain of salt and whatnot. im also trying to write this as objectively as possible so at worst its out of context spoilers, in case you or anyone else decide to see it.

triggers

im not sure what 'potential obvious triggers' would be in this case. i mean that sincerely this time, since im always poking fun at dnis etc and i dont want to come across as sarcastic or anything! i think it suffers from the saw/texas chainsaw effect where the first movie is very tame but people over represent its contents to the point where it gains a, imo unjust, reputation as viscerally disgusting and unwatchable. tangentially, in both saw and human centipedes case, its a self fulfilling prophecy of sorts because the sequels DO end up fitting the mold of these warnings. i know that tcm 2 is more of a comedy/horror, and then theres like 6 alternate universes just to retell the story, that i dont think quite fit the "warnings actual fit the sequels" curse, but still i felt like mentioning it, and this is because these type of movies play a lot, a LOT on how fertile your imagination is. texas chainsaw massacre (1974), saw (2004) and human centipede (2009) show very little gore, but the implications of whats going on and how it would traumatize someone physically, mentally and emotionally when you think about them later is what carries the legacy, imo. maybe human centipede got a bigger punishment in fake negative hype because on top of the central body horror theme, it also adds scat and torture.

so in terms of triggers, gore wise it would be: some blood, some cutting (surgically and self harm), and an EEK! situation of a character running away and the catheter pulling on their arm, ripping vertically across. These are maybe a 2 second scene at its longest, as the camera doesnt linger on them. a shoot out near the end as well, filling a pool with blood. there is a photo of 3 dogs lined up in front of each other meant to imply they were a doggy centipede as well, but out of context its just. dogs calmly sniffing the front ones butt lol. no animal cruelty and/or death on screen that i can remember. there is harassment, there is kidnapping, there is drugging, there is murder, there is racism, there is explaining of a surgical procedure and there is treating the resulting centipede as a pet from a cruel and abusive owner (mainly beatings, i think most also off screen). most of the surgery affected areas are covered in bandages the entire movie, exception being the glasglow smile practical effects, of which are put to use once to display infection. add squeezing some pus to the list, i know some people are Very grossed out by it.

i think thats the bulk of what is portrayed that might put people on edge the most, and anything else might be escaping into more abstract fears -like clowns for example-; no clowns in the movie but its not something youre supposed to be afraid of is what i mean. as i said before, the big threat of the movie is that it gets your imagination going on both the horrors people are capable of (unsurprisingly, doctor heiter was in part inspired by josef mengele, even sharing the first name) and what it would be like to find oneself part of the centipede. for example, you dont actually see in detail one shitting into each others mouth and the other swallowing, just all actors squirming and crying in unease as the doctor realizes its happening and cheers it on. Extra note: 2/3 of the centipede is almost always crying. Its apt that they do obviously, but quite uncomfortable to listen to for extended periods of time. And you will, if you watch the movie.

(wikipedia backing me up on this, its the >Implying thats the real terrifier here)

i dont remember where i read this but i would like to bring to attention the tenacity and endurance of the three actors that played the centipede, as it was said that some other actors that got the role soon gave up upon finding out theyd have to have their face so close to someone elses ass, and vice versa. its all practical effects and THERE IS a small, obvious distance between the elements, like theyre not straight up tossing the salad in there, but still. rough position if youre not shooting a strange sex scene. finally, and i know all you never-seen-human-centipede enjoyers have been waiting for this one: no sexual violence of any kind. really! I was surprised as well, since these types of topics also love to pull on rape and whatnot, but the first movie is fully lacking in those types of themes. The sequels have them. Whether its unfortunate or not I wouldnt know, as I don’t intend on watching them, but more on that later (%).

my opinion

i was about 15 when i finally decided to watch it and i gotta say, i was disappointed because i had braced myself for the worst, didnt quite receive it, and was left with a lot of tension. like honest to god, the way people describe this as almost a snuff film when its just. a boring movie. it was a bit insulting to me back then lmao. i also didnt watch it with subtitles, as its marketed to an english audience; back then id argue about the guy not really needing to speak in english all the time since hes in his homeland but, while the doctor doesnt care for them as humans, he cared for them as pets, so it makes Some sense to have at least 2/3 of the centipede understand what hes saying. however with the amount of non english dialogue in it its safer to consider it a straight trilingual between german, japanese and english. if you do watch it TRY to find subtitles for ALL THREE. dieter laser (the actor that played the doctor) mumbles a good amount and it can be hard to perceive. anyway that was my opinion then and it stayed like that for a bit: 'boring movie everyone exaggerates'. it shifted positively when i decided to hear dead meats podcast on it, aka chelsea vehemently defending it with a :grimace: james accompanying her. when the red flags song first came out i thought it was extra hilarious because in some way this probably paralleled when she first told him "human centipede, not ironically" (iirc her favorite horror movie is american psycho but I don’t care enough about them to have this memorized) i havent rewatched what was said in the podcast before writing all this because i didnt want my own thoughts to be re-influenced just yet; still, it will be linked at the end regardless, since it changed my viewpoint on it when they dropped it. at this time, my opinion was "it wasnt that good, but it wasnt that bad either… was it?"

so i re watched it maybe a week after getting this ask (editors note: due to personal tragedies it has since been two more weeks) just for you! and i uhhh. ended up liking it a lot more this time around, now that i also know a little bit more about movie making. unfortunately, i made the damn fucking mistake of watching it with no subtitles again sdajhdfk. it feels strange that i understood the japanese better than the german this time around. german, on a technicality has more similar words to my native, BUT, being a fan of j music for as long as i have, and the japanese dialogue being very simple stuff like 'i have to shit' 'whats going on' 'fuck you' I occasionally grasped some dialogue teehee. i didnt understand enough to make a difference really, but still felt like pointing it out. also, despite not having seen it with subs both times, i remember back then looking it up later what was said so i +- know the context of each scene, the one I remember less being the conversation between the detectives and the doctor. still, its something i have to rectify eventually, even if i just find clips of the non english scenes and watch them.

i think i found it boring back then because its a slow movie, with just one story going on the entire time. they take some time to introduce you to the american tourists, but im not sure it makes a difference in establishing emotional connection since they suck ass (sorry) for most of the time theyre not a centipede. definitely not enough for someone to want to see them get punished like that either, but ehh. Its a 'i got no dogs in this race' situation, unless youre a stan of the doctor (which ive since learned a lot of people are (source: bort); its not my type of character is all.

im not sure how to best explain this but theres a lot of cinematic shots. if youre someone who likes movies as works of art, or understands and analyzes the meaning of the slow scenes, angles, whats being shown etc i think this movie is worth the watch, for sure. i think the sound design is also phenomenal; music is used to a bare minimum, and tense/action scenes dont get as much of a noise as you come to expect, exacerbating their vibes by like 200%. its straight up just silence sometimes, as you would expect if that was happening irl, its great. for the imagined horror i mean. its also great for the cinematography i think. Theres a scene that stood out to me of one of the members running, hiding from and then yelling at the doctor, that stood out to me by having most of it be ambient noise only.

That said, there are some critiques to be had, mainly on the creation aspect. The doctor had an accomplished career, so youd think the procedure would be more thought out than just “german doctor sews three people ass to mouth (cool!)”.

Ill try not to enter too much of spoiler territory here, but just in case if you watch it skip this LIST then come back idk:

its an intense cut and suture process of different materials between randomly selected people with no knowledge of their medical history, so its already a recipe for things to go wrong. The doctor seemed little worried about missing people being investigated, so he could have definitely looked a bit more into them before jumping right to the surgery, the movies pace would have certainly allowed it.

The surgery itself is implied to have been a day, and the recovery maybe two? Before he forces them on their knees and starts moving them about. I highly doubt the cut on their knees would permit this without at least a month of recovery. And a month is being generous. Youre not given a strict spongebob ‘a few moments later’ screen though, so while it could be argued ‘who knows how long actually passed!’ the nature of the surgery simply doesn’t allow it. Additionally, part of the process implies removing teeth, which immediately tells you this should be something phased. Like I dunno, im not a doctor but immediately connecting bleeding gums to a fecal exit doesn’t sound like a solid plan. Maybe he cauterized them? Youre not shown these things.

Ignoring the obvious -people cannot survive on just eating poop*- the removal of teeth makes sense on the sewing, since theres minimal chance to move the jaw on those conditions. It makes no sense anywhere else: if you cant chew it, you risk choking on it. other factors like coughing or vomiting have also not been accounted for.

there is never a single mention of urine in this process, which I found strange after the fact because if its left untouched, any female parts would just be painting the following sequence yellow, but theres also the fact that humans cant survive without water. It would be immensely punitive to figure out the surgery to include this, especially with urethra placements being different on male/female, but maybe worth it for the surgeon in-lore acclaims of fame if they could figure it out. Within the plot, the doctor would have certainly had the time anyway.

*i noticed next to their cage that they have an iv drop, which I think is meant to imply that the doctor wouldnt be THAT stupid and is giving the back parts the necessary nutrients to stay alive until inevitable eat-only-shit complications arise.

A lesser critique that if acknowledged would result in “but then we wouldnt have a movie would we?”, therefore not that relevant, is that katsuro should have double tapped. If you consider the neck bite a double tap, a triple tap then. Quadruple tap even like fuck man id be in there stabbing until I had human soup lmao

all that said, its a good movie. Not a bad movie by miles, but not a tour de force either. But I will say, if youre not watching it for the human centipede itself- how it came to be, how to create it, how it works, how it succeeds, how it survives, how it fails, how it ends- youre not getting anything out of the movie. Again, there is no b plot to it, no secret twist. It might be worth analyzing its movie quality (not just plot but also camera shots, characters, scenery, effects, etc) on top of that, but you have to be aware thats all there is.

(%) More on that now: I did not watch the sequels, but I don’t intend to and from the summary alone wouldnt recommend it. I already saw the human centipede once, there is little innovation that can be done here (sewing even more people to it is barely innovating in my eyes, its just stupider). Theres the added bonus/punishment of having all the sexual/gross out/possible graphical gore? schlock people warn about the first one, which would be something id be interested as a teen, not so much now. Even thinking about watching them feels like a drag, id rather do something else.

Red flags analysis:

now for something fun, since I know I got this ask because I kept talking about it lol

"the best movie of all, a masterpiece of art": we shouldnt be getting into the debate of the best movie of all right now. a masterpiece is debatable, as the movie itself is not that far removed from the art form that it shouldnt be at least considered.

“I think im gonna get murdered tonight”: youre not.

“the costume design was a highlight”: I mean, I guess? Its average clothes for the average person for the year it was shot in. the glasgow smile suture effects and the doctors lab coats (along with the fucking. aviators glasses) deserve a positive mention as they feel iconic of the movie… so yea you know what no ‘I guess’. I no longer guess. I agree.

“I like it for the plot (...) german doctor sews three people ass to mouth”: this is part of plot, not The plot. Its the catch of the movie that makes you curious about it, but I feel like the movie focuses more on the “ok, how? and then what?” to that summary than it does on the man sewing the people itself.

“please god save me”: coward.

“I think thats a red flag”: maybe.

“I don’t want to get stabbed”: you wont.

“human centipede is a tour de force”: already gave my thoughts on it, but respectfully disagree.

“im gonna be the main course”: 🤔...

“I admire the narrative of character growth”: see, this line here makes me think tom cardy/montaigne havent actually seen the movie (or if they have, dismissed it for the sake of having a good song which is absolutely fine by me, don’t get this analysis wrong). I will disclaimer that, for the doctor, it might be hidden in the german discussion with him and the detectives (but given the body language I doubt hes grown/learned anything from it) and in that case yea I missed it, but outside the centipede working together whenever possible to escape and the front going on a speech about “this happened to me because I was a bad person” theres absolutely no character growth. Its an experience they all go through and cannot recover from, much less grow from it.

Opposite of this, id like to think galoogamelady (the animator) has seen the movie, as getting reference shots of the indoor pool/wall tiles as well as dieter lasers face (to a lesser extent; write his name, he shows up) can be tricky with just google images and random ass youtube clips. I especially like that the eyebrows came out the exact same as how he had them in the movie, lol

“is this because your date is a freak” not necessarily the case (and the crowd goes ‘shes not gonna fuck you, tumblr user thesugarhole’ djkhgfhdsghskjd)

“only if the wedding is themed (…) human centipede” I wouldnt let my wedding be human centipede themed not gonna lie. Its gonna be saw themed. get in da bathroom lmao

“that way we can save on the catering bill” the implication here being all your guests get human centipeded, all your money is going to the surgery tools and prep.

“only one mouth to feed” of course, in cutting corners you could just shove some sort of weird tube between ass and mouth…

“I can finally sew a mouth to a butt” hate it when hes right about the red flag 🙄 sad! Oh well there will be other women with red hair that will defend human centipedes honor (cough) ⬇️

youtube

(^ as I said previously I didn’t rewatch this so my current opinion couldn’t get influenced by it, so I don’t remember what she said. Might rewatch after posting)

Pucker up!

#wrote half of this in notes half of it in libre word so my capitalizations are all wacky #haters will say they love a girlie getting autistic with it untl they actually see it (me and my text)#iamphibolous #the human centipede #cuties replying #sugar.txt #unsanitary #human centipede #askblog #red flags #watching the human centipede

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ask-thedepressedkidatthetable · 8 months

Text

FACTS ABOUT YOUR MUSE !!

A short collection of basic info of your muse to present them on your blog. REPOST, don't REBLOG.

TAGGED BY: @heartxshaped-bruises TAGGING: @fourcriminals @fangsandmagic @seolinah @tyliocellier @eeliabwrites @godstrayed and anyone else who wants to!

▬ι══════ﺤ Sylwia Wrona

COMMON MISCONCEPTIONS

I suppose the main one I've encountered is that Sylwia is a "bitch" rather than a shrewd muse of extremes. Something along the lines of expecting a similar reaction to other muns / muses to a given situation and being surprised when Sylwia is unsympathetic to more of the same. Online, all the same trends cycle over time, and society is steadily getting worse . . . She'll feel differently when she sees something different.

AN IMPORTANT HEADCANON

I try to strike a balance in my writing, but keep in mind when your muses are interacting with Sylwia that she had a STRONG addiction to her phone. It's the one habit she absolutely cannot kick, so unless your muse has dragged Sylwia outside and just so happens to be holding onto her phone, the likelihood that she's looking at a screen while talking to you is high! And I promise she's paying attention, and she is engaged! Mostly. She's just . . . also scrolling. And doing upkeep on her forums. And looking up random shit. She'll show you a meme every now and then!

A USELESS HEADCANON

With some possible exceptions in the animated world, Sylwia absolutely despises sitcoms. Humanity it bad enough, must the downtime entertainment be filled with all of its worst aspects? Cruelty, stupidity, empty romantic plots and just most of the characters being annoying! At least with cartoons they don't look real. Even there, small doses is a key phrase.

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS

Depression, suicide, dissociation, self harm, social anxiety, insecurity, manipulation / possessiveness, death, and some neglect growing up. I would also note that while she can be attracted to anyone, her circumstances growing up were rather conservative so she is rather cautious on that front.

SOMETHING YOU ENJOY ABOUT (WRITING) THEM

God, I love writing Sylwia when she's in love. She's so sweet and sentimental and vulnerable in ways she would never credit herself with. I think she'll always blame herself for Dominik, and she'll probably always think that the world wasn't made for love, but that doesn't mean she doesn't hold so much of it in her heart. It's truly a pleasure.

SOMETHING YOU WANT OTHERS TO KNOW BEFORE WRITING WITH THEM

She's going to tell your muse to leave, time and time again. It's nothing personal most of the time, she just gets overwhelmed with social interaction and deals with it the only way she knows how.

▬ι══════ﺤ Absinthe Moon

COMMON MISCONCEPTIONS

Absinthe can fall in love so to speak. This one surprised me as well. That being said, any such relationships will rely on distance, mutual toxicity, and sex. Marriage and that whole apple pie thing is completely out of the cards, because as soon as it gets serious, Absinthe goes on guard- and the second there's a fight and things get emotional Absinthe will cut your muse out and there will be no return. Haven't found a work-around for that. Absinthe cuts out from all threads and it's . . . something. And for all of Absinthe's academic / professional pursuits, they actually have quite a bit of downtime in their life. Naps, staring at walls, whatever 'nothing' catches their fancy. Humans aren't meant to run at 110% all the time, and moreover, they don't want to.

AN IMPORTANT HEADCANON

While Absinthe is a very violent person personally, with no desire to change that, they are very receptive to pacifism. There's a catch though- Because Absinthe's read it all, Ghandi, King, the Quakers and the Shakers- and if you aren't doing pacifism properly, if you're just using it as an excuse to act like an asshole without getting consequences, then there will be hell to pay. If pacifism is truly your thing though, and you are trying your kindest and hardest in the world, more power to you! (No one will hurt you, not for the short time they're around. It's not their path, but why not chase utopia?)

A USELESS HEADCANON

Probably useless in the sense that I haven't gotten much of a chance to explore this side to them, but the vast amount of time an resources they've put into soaps, beauty products, and sewing! Work is a practical matter and unfortunately, can end out with a very masculine presentation, but I imagine in their daily life they put a huge amount of effort into androgyny. In being very visibly nonbinary and queer! It's a huge part of who they are.

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS

Violence, murder, weapons, crimes, drugs and so on.

SOMETHING YOU ENJOY ABOUT (WRITING) THEM

I absolutely adore writing their intellectual side. They're extremely intellectual, experienced, and in this stage of their life, the narrative demands success. It's fun to pit against others and a huge learning curve personally depending on where the thread is going!

SOMETHING YOU WANT OTHERS TO KNOW BEFORE WRITING WITH THEM

Absinthe is one of my favorites around here, but the build-up and appeal takes a long time to come through. They're a rather guarded character who operates under a general code of, 'Don't talk to anyone' to avoid trouble. So even if their character doesn't appeal to you in the moment, please, stick around. Wait for the day when it all clicks! because that's been my experience before and I happen to think it's worth the wait!

#character inspiration | abinsthe moon #tagging game #character inspiration | sylwia #[...hopefully some of these reasonings make sense xp]#[queue]

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randomnameless · 1 year

Note

(voice line anon) Sothis says this when engaging Seteth in battle: "The Hammer of Judgment, hm? I see that time has not been kind to you." And this when she defeats him: "I see the weariness within. Too weak to lift your hammer now?" Her unique praise line for him is also interesting: "Do not deny your age and strength! Embrace your might!"

:')

Voice Line Anon (unless you want to be called something else?), you're saving me much trouble!!! Thank you!

Here goes!

my useless comments under the cut

I love how Seteth'n'Flayn have lines with random knights of Seiros lol

Seteth tries to train/tutor Catherine while they fight/train, but it's funny because Rhea doesn't and they just enjoy a good sparring (is it bcs Rhea's actually similar to Catherine and Seiros the Warrior used to Leeroy Jenkins her way when she was younger during the WoH?).

Is he joking here or sounding serious?

But he always has compliments for the random knights and a special one for Catherine, that's so wholesome, Seteth really tries to mentor/help the people from the KoS/CoS!

(Support Unit) Rhea - "Like this, Lady Rhea. Ha!"

omg Flayn - she's s trying to show the example to Rhea it's so cute

(Active Unit) Flayn - "Understood. Ha!"

And Rhea plays along 🥺 "Alone B4 U since Zanado + had no one with who i could be rhea" my ass

Cyril - "Do not hold back because I am your opponent, Cyril."

Cyril - "Are you hurt, Cyril? It is alright, you can tell me."

Flayn having a friendly exchange with her totally not-cousin 🥺

Knight of Seiros - "You know, in some tales the princesses defeat the knights."

What is a random KoS supposed to reply to this?

Rhea - "I have never seen anyone fight as elegantly as you, Lady Rhea!" 1,000 Enemies Defeated - "I know violence is not your way, but your strength is unparalleled, Lady Rhea."

But I thought Rhea had a hair trigger temper, of course violence is her way???

Catherine - "You are simply radiant, Catherine! I truly admire you."

You can't tell me Catherine isn't a member of their family at this point, Flayn looks up to Rhea, she looks up to Catherine and somehow, is proud to be Seteth's "sister"!

Jeralt - "I am certain that she would lament you and I crossing swords."

You don't say Rhea, but Sitri lamenting over Jerry's stupid actions would imply calling him out on his shitty general behaviour, and the Fodlan verse isn't ready for that.

Seteth - "We have not sparred in quite some time, Seteth." Seteth - "This reminds me of our friendly bouts in days long passed."

"Remember how I kicked your ass back then ?" "I let you win else you'd cry" "I totally and legit won every duel we had"

Cyril - "You have grown much, Cyril. You may even surpass me before long." / Cyril - "You are doing so well, Cyril. Your bravery is worthy of praise."

She encourages him it's so fucking cute 🥺

It's funny how she has a line for everyone, commenting on the fight or their growth, and then there's this :

Edelgard - "Wilhelm. If only you were alive today." Edelgard - "You bear such a resemblance to him.. It breaks my heart that I must defeat you."

With Supreme Leader she goes "WILLY :'("

-> no words about Supreme Leader's performance, or why they are fighting, or anything else, she's just a reminder that Willy's gone lol she even praises personally dimitri, but Supreme Leader? Nope

1,000 Enemies Defeated (same quote for Seteth) "We must strive to build a world where you need not dirty your hands in such a way."

It's interesting! Is Rhea Implying she's willing to dirty her hands to make a better world, but regrets having to involve those two?

Catherine - "Absolutely masterful, Catherine. It is a great comfort to have you with me." 1,000 Enemies Defeated - "Nothing is more reassuring than having you at my side."

Catherine is here to provide comfort and to be at her side, just another day for a Faerghus knight and her liege. Faerghus Chivalry at its finest here rhea abandoned Adrestian values to adopt the Faerghian ones? Or didn't download the Adrestian update since willy's passing?

Yep, I've seen on how you commented about Rhea'n'Sothis's VAs being different lol, but that's the lolcalisation for you/us hahaha. Is Rhea pausing after the "Wilhelm" in the line where she wishes he was alive? In PK we have suspension dots, but it could be similar to her FE16 line, her pause was longer in the jp version than in the lolcalised one (as was her tone but this is beating an undead horse now) but yeah, bar the ultimate WTF blunder between Flayn and Sothis, the lines seem to be similar!

(seem to because Sothis's lines sound way harsher in the loc version, and that's without having the VA delivery!)

...

If it's not too much to ask, are Cyril's lines also available?

#voice line anon #thank you so much!!!#3 nopes #lizard family time?#Catherine is just a part of the family #don't ask her 'role' in the fam she's just a part of it #let it be to be at Rhea's side or polish her armor or do the things knight do to their leiges #FE16 #I can't help but wonder with this anon you just made me realsie I don't need to buy Nopes anymore lol #granted it's so annoying that the only nabatean content is breadcrumb hidden in NG+ lines #deathbirby

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nightowltribe · 10 days

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Some depression thoughts

Consider this a trigger warning, only read if you can handle possible triggering content.

Let me preface this with we don't want to come off as demonizing certain mental illnesses but that we believe that some of them make a person (especially if they haven't been diagnosed and treated for them) predisposed to using abusive behaviors and tactics on others to get what they want/need. 'Its not your fault that you have a mental illness, but its your responsibility to recover.'

I am struggling with depression because I'm still so drained from the hours of intense hyperawareness and PTSD from the day of the bad storms and its focusing on the relationship between our partner's brother (who is like a brother to us) and our 'mother'. He's been getting really close to Her, when she isn't griping about his high anxiety, deep depression, or something else to us she is singing his praises to anyone around to hear because he will sometimes do things to help her with housework. Things that I had tried in the past to do to help but couldn't do it to her standards (folding the towls in thirds not halves, not pulling everything off a shelf to dust it and put everything back while organizing it, not detail cleaning when vaccuming, anything I try to organise for her is never done the way she wants it or she'll claim it still looks like a mess, etc.), it had ended in fighrs with her and us and her telling us if we can't do it her way then to not do it at all and exactly what we did. It doesn't stop her from bitching that we don't help more around the house.

He frequently plays video games with her and her fiance but when we and our partner (his own brother) want to try to play games with him he doesn't want to; he goes out with her to get coffee and do other things, but when we and our partner try to offer a place for him to come with us with the offer of doing things he would want he will almlst always decline. Now she recently humble bragged that he told her that when she gets on occulus to play he wants to introduce Her to his friends as the reason he is still alive! We and our partner were the ones to get her and her fiance to let him move in with us, we were the ones that were always checking in and trying to support him as much as we could, but aren't given any credit for that.

We warned him before he moved in the kind of games she plays are different from his families abuse, she will appear like a great person but behind your back, when she is pissed (over anything), or if its inconvienent for her she will manipulate, emotionally abuse, gaslight, guilt trip, verbally abuse, character assassinate, and make you out to be a terrible person. We told him that we would try to run interference for him as much as we can to keep as much as the backlash from hittimg him as possible, but it seems like this has blinded him to Her real personality. He is so close to Her that now we feel like trusting him is like trusting an old and neglected rope bridge with getting us across the drop, he feels like he could become a flying monkey for her.

This is a woman who I've learned knows exactly what the silent treatment does to a person and how it makes them feel but weilds it like a weapon anyway, she knows what her target feels when she is screaming and verbally abusing them to vent all her anger when someone is unconvientently the 'last straw', she knows what her weapons of abuse do to a person but doesn't care unless it causes her more inconveinence. She may have toned down some with age, but it doesn't change the fact that she still does it. Its only a few months ago that she screamed at me because the housework we and our partner are assigned weren't getting done on her time table and any attempts to talk to her were cut off while she continued to scream at us to the point we just shut down and waited for her to stop so we could leave without risking pissing her off again, and when we tried to escape to our room which had always been the closest thing to a safe place we had she tried to come to us to try to get us to talk to her now that she was done using us as her emotional punching bag; all we could do at that point was keep our back to her and shake our head until she finally got tired of trying to appear like a caring mother and left. Even in a 30 year old body she had reduced us to the shut down, emotionally raw and painful, silently crying mess that had to give our pocket knife to our partner just to dig our thumb nail into our arm and drag it from wrist to elbow because it causes a flood of chemicals in our nervous system that somewhat dulled the emotional agony she had put us in once again; the emotional agony that we experienced countless times as a child and teen that left us wishing that we could just cease to exist because the pain was so bad.

Seeing the relationship between them brings up so much discomfort because it makes us feel like someone close to us has the potential to become a tool for her to use against us, that we are losing someone we were close to, its making us question if our trauma is as bad as we feel it is or if we are blowing normal situations way out of proportion, and making me question why we could never be good enough for her while someone completely unrelated to her she is more positive towards even with her bitching about him to others behind his back. She's always tried to make our friends and partners think less of us by telling stories warped to make us look bad or humiliate us, is that what she's done with our partner's brother? Has she fedd him bullshit to make him dislike us? Why can't she just let us live the life she almost pushed us to end before we even got to be an adult?

#actually did #actually osdd #did osdd #did #osdd #osdd1 #osdd 1b #dissociative identity disorder #night owl tribe #katra night owl

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dogt-eeth · 4 months

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Misc. Thoughts abt Germ-phobic Shadow headcanons:

(under the cut becuz it's a bit long but also mentions some things that might be slightly triggering if anyone reading Also has a hard time w the thought of germs and such)

I think Shadow would b kind of hyper vigilant (?) about potential germs in his home. It's one of his traits that's otherwise very unexpected unless you know him. He picked it up from the mindset on the ARK that treated any possible contamination as almost Certain Death and now he can't quite shake it. I also think he would just try avoid things that he thinks are 'gross' or get upset when something is unexpectedly gross, like jumping in a puddle (cool and fun!) And not connecting the dots that you would also get covered in mud (BAD AND EVIL). He can withstand it to a point but after a while being too dirty starts to affect him and he NEEDS to go get washed. I think he would also force Team Dark to clean their apartment more. Maybe even to the point where he walks around personally inspecting every small thing to check for dust or potential hazards. Like scanning with black lights to see if something is dirty and shit.

And he always has some kind of quick sanitizer on his person, just in case. Like a small case of wipes and hand sanitizer or smth. His fur routines are very specific too, and can take a long time to complete. And there's that bit from the takeovers about how his bed must always be made and clean and ironed properly if he's going to sleep in it.

I think he'd also find it kinda gross when people around him share food with each other. ESPECIALLY drinks. The thought of sharing straws makes him turn green.

He refuses to open the window in his bedroom because of all the "smoke and city pollutants" that could flow in. Rouge has taken to just rolling her eyes and shrugging him off. She likes things to be in order and clean, but she isn't rlly worried about mess to the same level of urgency. Like if she spills something, she won't stop everything to fix it if she doesn't have to. One time when she's cooking she leaves a mess on the floor or maybe the countertops for longer than an hour and Shadow starts contemplating setting the kitchen on fire. Or she cooks something and lets it sit on the stovetop for hours after it was finished cooking and only puts it away because Shadow is about to Chaos Spear the whole thing into oblivion.

Like yeah illnesses won't affect him, but I think he could potentially still carry them, so he still tries to avoid them whenever possible, even if it means refusing to share a drink with someone which would Probably not do anything to him. Plus, in Maria's case, even the smallest contaminant was very dangerous, so he'd be on edge even for the slightest things. Went out and someone was coughing or sneezing without proper covering? Come home, clean door handles, clean gloves, clean fur. Had to go on the subway? Come home, scrub down boots, scrub rings, clean gloves, clean fur. Stuff like that.

His accessories are mostly metal so they're easy to sanitize, but if he happened to get blood that was Not his own on his gloves or in his fur I think he'd try to burn them. Obviously with his fur he can't do that, but he would want to. Depending on the severity, Rouge or OMEGA might have to physically stop him from trying.

He isn't allowed to watch Invader Zim becuz its portrayal of earth makes him so so disgusted that it's hard to go exist in public spaces. Have you seen that show. I couldn't even THINK about going out for AGES after watching some of those episodes. Genuinely made my stance on dirt and grime one MILLION times worse. And I watched it in high school so it eventually overlapped with when I had swim class in gym. TERRIBLE TIMING. Shadow would HATE public pools and he's a real one for that.

#im not projecting YOURE projecting... dont uh. dont check on my other blog #i think i already made this post. but. man its just rlly rlly dirty in my house rn and im trying my best to cope #uhm. yeah. based off of personal perspective. germs are gross and disgusting and i try not to think about it too hard #ask to tag

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adhdarcheologist · 2 years

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Sensory Overload on Site

If you’re like me and you’re prone to sensory overload it’s super important to keep that in mind when you’re on a dig site. There are usually allot of people, machinery, tools and sounds that can really get to you. Not to mention just the environment and weather on the site can be overwhelming on its own. This doesn’t mean that you can’t dig or that you can’t be an archeologist! It just means that you need to take extra precautions and keep your limits in mind. So here I’m just going to list some things that I would consider brining with you/ I’ve found useful in the past for me.

Noise reduction ear buds

These are super useful and help reduce the amount of noise that can cause overstimulation. Now with these there are a few important things to keep in mind.

> Get noise reduction, not noise cancelling because you still need to be able to hear what’s going on around you for your safety and that of others. > Get earbuds unless that causes its own sensory issue. They’re small and less obstructive. Also if you’re self conscious about it or your supervisors have an issue (they shouldn’t but such is life) they’re less obvious. > Get ones that are easy to travel with and easy to clean > Ideally have spares either on site with you or at home in case they get lost

> Make sure to get ones you like. That might mean trying a few different brands. My personal suggestions are loop or flare. I personally find flare more comfortable and they’re good at cutting the highs and lows that really get to me. Plus they have a little metal carrying case option that you can clip to your bag or even your pants for easy access.

Sunglasses and eye wear

Sunglasses of course are useful anyway but they can also really help with light sensitivity which is great. The other one is eye wear because even if you don’t need glasses 1. They protect your eyes from debris, 2. They offer a small barrier between you and the world that can really help when things are getting too much. I fully just have a cheap pair of sunglasses and clear glasses from H&M.

Clothing and layers

While it’s always good to layer up as an archeologist this can be really helpful with sensory overload. The shirt you’re wearing might suddenly become unbearable. You might need an extra layer of compression/ cover or you might need to take layers off. That’s totally fine! Not to mention that having longer sleeved/ legged items means that triggering textures like plants or grit are limited. I personally favour plain long sleeve cotton t-shirts (like basic Gildan brand) because they’re breathable and in a texture that does’t irritate me. Find what works best for you and lean into it.

Extra socks/ shirts

Even with rain gear you’re likely to get wet. If wet clothing causes a sensory issue (especially socks for me), it’s really good to have spares at hand so you can easily get out of the wet gear.

Comfort items

This can be anything from a favourite t-shirt or sweater to a small comfort object you like to have on hand. If you do get overwhelmed it’s nice to have something to rely on to make sure you can calm down. Mine personally is a little stuffed animal key chain that I call my anxiety fish and fits perfectly in my hand.

—

Even with precautions you can still get overwhelmed, but that’s ok. It happens, and any good team or supervisor should be understanding of that. I’ve never met any who haven’t been kind and accommodating. They might not fully understand but they always have your safety and wellbeing in mind. Not to mention, you’d be surprised how many archaeologists are also neurodivergent. This also goes for anyone who has mental health issues like depression, anxiety etc. Don’t be afraid to walk off site to a quiet place to take the time you need. You shouldn’t have to compromise yourself for the sake of a site and if anyone tells you otherwise they’re not doing their job. Keep in mind that you’re valid no matter what you’re dealing with so never hesitate to ask for help. Happy digging!

#archeology #archaeologist #anthropology #classics #history #adhd #neurodivergent #autism #depression #anxiety #sensory overload #sensory issues #sensory #digging

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taeghi · 2 years

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volume 3 ☆ jake sim - the first love trope

"oh shit, sorr- wait you like one ok rock? "yeah?" "no way, what's your favourite song?!"

pairing : popular boy!jake x shy!reader

summary : you, a quiet girl who is the introvert of all introverts, never thought you would befriend the most popular boy in school by having the same music taste. what songs are you going to show him next?

word count : 23,900 something lol

includes smut

topics of insomnia, depression, cigarettes, quick mention of death (sorry) (maybe slight trigger warning bc of the death)

MINORS DNI

☆read the other volumes?

taglist : @srirachibi @ryu-naa @blank-velvet @hoonstrology@person-standing @yuakagi @moasworld @rein-deer-stuffs @lix-freckle3 @leeis @turnipsandflowerss @hoewithnojams@liliansun @melaninjhs @sunshine-skz @andromedawillburryyou@shynypeacekitten @violevantae @rpkth @hime98 @fvryang @j4yluvr @heelariously @fireflies997 @rikipediaa @manaswisingh @pshwyfie @rikithebest @as-she-pleases

(sorry if i forgot anyone lol)

you have always hated busan. you hated the humid weather, the inconsistent transportation system, and, god forbid, the noise. but now, over the past few weeks, at least, you've started to enjoy the noise during your insomniac nights. you sit in your bed for what feels like the one hundredth time tonight, having nothing better to do than look out your window. the bags that have been accumulating for weeks under your brown eyes have started to grow into a shade of dark purple that harshly contrasts with your skin tone. your house has always been quiet. it started when your father left years ago. it seemed that no matter how many were home, the eerie type of quiet that had been set into the house, lingers. it's always clean and spacious, and no one talks unless they need to you haven't spoken to your siblings in weeks. there had been underlying anger between you that has been inherited like the freckles on all your cheekbones. you sometimes try to blame yourself for the falling out, but only your dad runs through your mind at the thought. your insomnia has been toleratable since it started through the summer. still, now that your junior year is starting in a couple of hours, the insufferableness is settling in. you wish you could sleep, if only for a day. on the other side of busan, jake lies awake in his bed, staring at his posters on the ceiling. he regret sleeping all day again because now all he can hear is his brother playing video games and the busan night coming in through his window. the sim house is usually always loud, even at night. jake's friends would come over, and they'd blast music and drink or talk about life events. jake's brother would sometimes join them, adding to the noise. jake has hardly left his room all summer. the thoughts are becoming too much, so he sleeps to get them to stop. things had been hard since isa had broken up with him. he looked up his symptoms and groaned when the word 'depression' crossed the screen. jake used to like busan. it was always busy and roaring with people, but now the noise adds to it all. he needs quiet. jake feels guilty for sleeping through the summer. but he doesn't have enough energy to do anything else. he wishes he couldn't sleep through a day, just for a day.

your hair is messy as you stand outside your school, your earbuds tangled as you look up at the building you despised so much.

you're not oblivious, you know that you don't look like you're the world's next top model in your oversized clothing, your hands shoved into the pockets of your unzipped sweater

you suppose everyone has headed to their second period class by now, so you're outside by yourself, the newly fall breeze starting to twirl around the city.

you look out onto the freshly cut grass field. it reminds you of the view from your bedroom window. it looks like your neighbour's clean backyard that he cares so much for. you then start to imagine that you're home. its quiet and you're relaxed. but that false relaxation turns into wondering where your family members are, and if they're thinking of you, at least in the slightless bit

the sudden voice beside you makes you somewhat jump, "what're you doing out here?"

you turn your head to the right and see a black-haired girl. you immiediatly notice how beautiful the girl is. her features suit her face so well and wish that you're own looked as good as hers.

"um," you state, noticing the angry expression on her face, her eyebrwos furrowed, "just, listening to music." you point to your headphones.

the girl nodded uncaringly before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it before she puts it to her lips. "it's been the worst day so far, i hate school so much." the black haired girl suddenly rants, mocking the leaning position you were in against the wall. you nod in acknowledgement to her words. "what year are you in?"

"year 11."

"ah, so i'm your senior." the girl pulls her eyebrows up, "i guess i should be a good influence on you and tell you to get to class."

"i feel like i'd learn more out here than i would in a class."

a smile spreads across the girls lips, "i'm park chaerin."

"y/l/n y/n."

"yo, are you coming or what?" a boys' voice calls out suddenly. there's a boy with black hair pushed back. he's wearing a dark blue hoodie with the number 99 on it- realizing that he must be on the rugby team for your school.

"yeah, i am, can you not give me a second, jay?" chaerin replies, pushing herself off the wall and into his direction, inhaling from her cigarette as she does.

the boys'- jay- eyes you cautiously behind chaerin, analysing if he should say anything more while you're around.

"well i don't have all day to waste like you." jay replies, rolling his eyes.

"ugh." chaerin exhales the smoke, before throwing her cigarette on the pavement and stomping on it. "let's go. bye y/n!" she smiles at you, before walking away with jay.

you could hear jay scolding chaerin for smoking around him before turning the corner, neither of them glancing back at you.

over the first few weeks of school, you had somehow became close friends with park chaerin.

sure, she was a year older than you, and so much cooler than you, but you seemed to understand each other in a way that no one else has. she was quickly becoming your best (and only) friend.

you had learnt that she also comes from a not-so-great yet not-so-bad family like you. and she liked to cause some trouble. you most definetly weren't a goody two shoes- and you're grades were horrendous but not because you were stupid- but because you could care less about high school.

you learnt that chaerin was 'secretly' hooking up with park jay from the school's rugby team. at first, you had believed chaerin when she told you that it was solely sex, but quickly you learnt that there were feelings growing from her side- feelings that the imfamous park jay probably didn't reciprocate.

"god!" chaerin groaned out, sitting beside you against the concrete wall behind the school- the place where you had first met and had somehow mutally decided that the place would be your meetup spot. "did you see him not even look at me?"

"hm?" you asked, pulling out your earbud to hear the girl.

chaerin put her head against the wall, "stupid jay, i walked right past him and his stupid friends and he didn't even look. i mean i was right infront of him there was no way he didn't see me!"

you sighed, reaching out and patting your friends' knee. "maybe he didn't see you, why don't you ask him later about it?"

"i know what his answer is gonna be, 'what would the guys think if i looked at you?'." chaerin mocked in a deep 'jay' voice. "it's so annoying! he tells me he likes me and then pretends he has no idea who i am when we are in public!"

and chaerin's words are true.

park chaerin's reputation hasn't been the best at your school. she was known for being the 'bad girl'. the girl who parties a lot, and smoked a lot and had a lot of sex- which she says she hasn't but the rest of the school disagrees- and that she really didn't care about what anyone thinks of her.

chaerin thought she could live the rest of her life not caring about other people's opinions.

until she started hooking up with park jay.

park jay was the co captain of the rugby team. he was popular, and smart and athletic and majority of the girls and guys at your school wanted to date him. you could say that he was 'preppy' and comes from a rich family that owns a lot of buildings in your city.

chaerin didn't plan on falling for jay- and he most definetlly didn't plan for that either. it's not that he was necesarily embarrassed by hooking up with park chaerin- but he still didn't want people to know.

"i'm sorry chae, hopefully he will come to his senses." you tried to reassure her.

"no, hopefully i come to my senses and ghost his ass, maybe then he'll recognize me in public."

you smiled at her words, not getting a chance to respond, "he did mention that he told one of his friends about us, his best friend."

"oh really?" you asked, genuinely shocked at park jay.

"yeah, but he made the guy swear not to tell anyone else so i can't tell if it's a step forward or backward for us."

"it's a forward one, chae- now four of us know instead of three."

chaerin scoffed with a smile at your words, "yay, four!" she spoke in her usual sarcastic tone you had become familiar with.

she wrapped her arm around you, both of you looking out to the soccer field where a class of year 9's played a shitty game of soccer. chaerin smoked a cigarette as you listened to music- something the both of you had started doing together as you talked or sat in silence, waiting for the school bell to ring for another period to start.

you always liked listening to music. your interest had become a need to live over time since you listened to it so much. it broke the silence that had settled over you and your family. you found comfort in it

you needed music when you were alone, when you were in a classroom full of people that you didn't know when you were walking in the halls to a classroom full of people you didn't know.

music could allow you to daydream as well. you got so lost in music that it helped you cope with the harsh reality of your life. you could imagine up anything you wanted with your ears being blasted by your favourite- and not so favourite songs.

and maybe that means it's not always such a good thing to do when you are walking around a bunch of other people while you're losing yourself to your daydreams because you crash right into someone, and your phone goes flying onto the hallway floors, ripping your headphones right from your ears.

you were more concerned about the ache in your ears and a possibly shattered phone than the person you had bumped into you, jaw going slack as you watched your phone slide across the hall.

"oh shit." you heard someone cuss, taking a step towards your phone before a person beats you to it. "sorr- wait, you like one ok rock?"

you finally glance up at the boy who is now holding your phone, your headphones wrapped around his hand as looked down at your screen. he had shaggy brown hair and a pretty smile as he looked at you.

"uh, yeah?"

"no way, what's your favourite song?!" he exclaimed, not caring about the other students glaring at the two of you for standing in the middle of the hallway.

you couldn't focus on this question as you just continued to stare at your phone, wondering why he was still holding onto it so tight. when you didn't answer, he looked down at his hand gripping your phone and headphones.

"oh shit, sorry again." jake almost startled himself, hurriedly handing over your phone.

"thanks." you nodded to him, rolling your phone over to see no scratches or cracks on it, noticing that the ambitions album by one ok rock was paused on the screen.

"y/n!" you heard chaerin's voice call you from behind you. you turned around and saw her face twisted into frustration. "let's go outside." she put two fingers to her mouth, signifying that she needed a smoke.

"o-okay." you nodded to her, quickly putting your headphones back in your ears, starting to rush to chase after your best friend through the halls to the back. "oh, my favourite's nobody's home!" you called over your shoulder to the boy, who only stared you with a confused smile on your face, watching how fast you ran for your upset friend.

you didn't stay to hear his response, taking his nod as a good enough answer before you made your way to your usual spot outside with chaerin, ready to hear what park jay had done now.

a day after bumping into the boy who knew one ok rock, the realization hit you on how cute he actually was and how much you embarrassed yourself by literally bumping into him and then making him pick up your things for you. you didn't even say sorry to him!

you tried to remember if you had ever seen the boy around before, but your mind drew blank. his casual sweats and distressed plaid shirt didn't seem to be a fashion sense that you recognized around your school- nor did the pretty smile and brown hair.

you especially didn't think anyone would be interested in what music you listened to or what your favourite song was.

it had you up at night for even longer than usual. at least your insomniac brain had something nice to think about for once- a boy to imagine late at night as you listened to music and stared outside your window.

since that day, you had tried to find the boy in the hallways, just a glance at him and maybe see who he hangs around with. but you never did. the brown shaggy hair was nowhere in your vision, and it made you slowly forget about him after a week.

you think you had almost forgotten about him when chaerin sat beside you abruptly against the concrete wall. today, cheerleading practice was occurring on the field in front of you.

"jay said something weird last night" chaerin shrugged, plopping her bag beside her as she dug through it.

"about what?" you asked her, taking out one of your earphones.

"you."

"me?"

"yeah," chaerin pulled out a lighter from her bag, turning to look at you, "his friend said he saw you with me and asked jay about you."

"what?" you asked again, sitting up straight, curious as to why you were ever a topic of discussion to anyone.

chaerin lit her cigarette, "yeah, jay said he didn't know anything about you, though; he said his friend seemed annoyed at it."

"who's his friend?"

"that sim jake guy, he's on the rugby team, too."

"sim jake?"

"yeah, you haven't heard of him?"

you shook your head no, confused as to why a boy on the rugby team would want to know about you.

your high school took sports very seriously. so as soon as you were accepted onto one of the sports teams, you would instantly be popular and accepted into a great university with a great scholarship.

"why would this sim jake guy want to know about me?"

chaerin shrugged, "beats me. he said something about bumping into you in the hallway."

bumping into you in the hallway.

"holy shit." you cursed, shock ripping through you when you realized who this sim jake guy must've been. "the one ok rock guy."

"the who?"

"i did bump into this cute guy like two weeks ago; he liked this same band as me, i didn't realize he was on the rugby team!"

"you think he's cute?" chaerin's jaw dropped.

"wait- not like-."

"oh my god! you think sim jake is cute?" chaerin squealed loudly, her voice bouncing off the school's walls.

"shhh!" you shoved her, "be quiet! i saw him once for maybe 30 seconds; you cannot be going around saying i think he's cute or something!"

"okay okay." chaerin giggled at your embarrassed expression, "and hey, i don't care who you fool around with or who you date, but if things with jake do ever happen, just be careful because his and his ex had a messy break up- shits still not resolved and it's been like five months."

"who's his ex?"

"lee chaeyoung." chaerin nodded towards the cheerleaders on the field, "isa. she's in my year."

across the field, lee chaeyoung, who went by her preferred name as 'isa' stood a top three girls who all held her up in the air, her navy blue cheerleading uniform contrasting against her pretty, pale skin.

you knew isa was the most popular and prettiest girl in your school; it was hard not to notice her in the halls. it was as if everyone in the hall would stop and watch her walk past them, her beauty too controlling to look away from her.

"i didn't know she had a boyfriend."

you heard chaerin scoff at your words. "y/n, i'm sorry but you don't know much about anyone at this school."

you tilted your head in consideration of her words, "that is true."

you and chaerin laugh as you continue to watch the cheerleaders practice their routines, the comfortable silence taking over until chaerin speaks again.

"do you want to come over to my house after school, there's not much to do, but we could go swimming, my parents said it's the last weekend to use the pool before they close it for the year."

"Sure." you agreed before the silence settled in between you again before the fourth period's bell rang out.

now, the two of you are in chaerin's room. you're walking around, looking at chaerin's belongings on the shelves. chaerin's talking about some drama at school again, and you nod along, not really listening. you look at the pictures chaerin has on the walls of her family. over the weeks, you have heard a lot about chaerin's family; you know that they don't always get along, but you can't help but wish you had a family like this. at least they talk to each other.

"do you want to go swimming now?" chaerin asks from her bed.

"yeah, why not."

chaerin smiles at your answer and stands up to rummage through her dresser drawers before pulling out two bathing suits. she hands you a black bikini with a smile, "go change in the bathroom."

chaerin's black bikini was definitely chaerin's bikini as you looked at yourself in the mirror. chaerin was a lot more confident in her body than you were in yours. it showed a majority of your body and curves in a way that you weren't used to. you force yourself to pick up your dad's old smashing pumpkins t-shirt that you basically live in and slip it on your body before meeting chaerin in the hallway.

chaerin's little brother, cheol, asks to go swimming with you guys, smiling once you agree that he can come. you help him apply some sunscreen. cheol already likes you, and it's partly because he can tell how much his sister does. cheol has always looked up to chaerin, and it worries the family. everyone in their family looks at cheol like he is the innocent one of them all. like he is the one that won't be a screw-up like the rest of them.

chaerin and cheol ease themselves into the pool while you still contemplate whether you should go swimming with your shirt on or off.

"come on, y/n!" cheol shouts from the middle of the pool.

"okay okay, i'm coming," you climb the ladder and stand on the edge of the pool, looking down at your pretty friend and her brother, wondering how you became so lucky to become friends with a girl like chaerin.

"what. are. you doing?" a sudden deep voice says from diagonally behind you, startling you, so you fall straight into the pool: head first.

when you come up from the water with a scowl on your face for who was the culprit that scared you, the frown drops immediately when you see park jay and sim jake standing by the gate that leads to chaerin's backyard.

"we're swimming; what does it look like we're doing?" chaerin said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

you turned away from the two boys, pushing your now-soaked hair away from your face and trying to smooth it over your head. you wiped the cheap, shitty mascara you were wearing away that had most likely leaked underneath your eyes from the water.

"i can see that. why are you swimming in september, you're gonna be sick, and then i'll have to deal with that, too." jay spoke out in frustration,

you heard chaerin scoff in annoyance, "god, you are so condescending; we are just having fun."

"whatever, can we talk inside for a second?" you heard the water in the pool start to swish around as chaerin started walking towards the ladder, so she responded to jay's question.

the two of them walked inside, a towel wrapped around chaerin's body as jay kept glancing at jake to make sure he wasn't looking at chaerin's bikini outfit.

cheol bursts out laughing beside you, smacking the water, "did you see the way you fell into the pool!" cheol said through his laughter, "head first!"

a smile spread across your face at his statement, glad someone found your embarrassing moment funny. "hey, you better watch it! I'll throw you into the pool head first!" you splashed water at the younger boy.

cheol laughed and splashed water back, drenching you again. "who are you?" his voice spoke out. you opened your eyes from wiping the fallen mascara again and turning to see that he was looking at jake, who stood by the side of a pool with a pretty smile.

"i'm jake; what's you're name?"

"i'm cheol," he said proudly, "and this is y/n, my sister's friend." jake turned and looked at you at your mini introduction.

"i know who she is," jake smiled and nodded at you, "and i like wherever you are."

"jake! come inside for a second!" jay's voice called out from the now-opened back door.

jake nodded at you and cheol before smiling and walking to where jay had just disappeared.

it took you a second to figure out what he had meant- but then you realized it was an one ok rock song. it was a song from your favourite album of theirs- and a song that really meant a lot to you.

cheol splashing water at you again turns your mind away from the thoughts of sim jake likes the same music as you, and into a water fight as you continue to splash the younger boy with both of you muffly giggling.

jake and jay end up staying longer than jay had planned. jay realized that chaerin had no food prepared to feed you guys, making him suddenly want to cook for you all. he avoided jake's teasing eyes as he started to look around for some ingredients- and he most definitely avoided the love-sick eyes chaerin was giving him- he wouldn't dare lose himself in them when jake was standing right there.

jake now stands in the kitchen, watching you and cheol in the window. jay had left to go to the convenience store to pick up some final ingredients. chaerin went to her room to change into something more comfortable than her wet bikini. with it being the late afternoon, the sun's setting behind the houses, leaving the sky smeared with dark blues, purples, yellows and pinks. jake watches you on the edge of the pool, and he can't help but think that even with the sky being so many gorgeous colours, you are a million times more beautiful.

jay finishes the dinner quickly and hands a bowl of it to everyone. you help cut the pieces for cheol, as jay and chaerin talk or argue about something amongst each other.

you are chaerin's house again this week, along with her brother, jay and jake. you've become comfortable enough to just walk in. you get along with everyone, although you've never spoken to jake since he told you his favourite song.

it was somehow agreed between you four (five if you include cheol but chaerin said he has no say in anything) that you'd all just sleep at chaerin's house tonight. you weren't sure how to feel about it, never having a sleepover in your life. you can't even sleep at your own house, so you don't know how you'd be able to sleep in someone else's.

the night went fast as everyone seemed tired from the long week at school. chaerin and jay settled into her bed, leaving jake in the guest room, and you insisted on sleeping on the couch; you didn't want to wake up anyone with your constant twists and turns and humming.

jake, for once, struggles to fall asleep that night. he thinks he slept too much the day before- falling asleep right at 4pm when he got home from school and then fully waking up at 6am today. he lays awake in the guest bed, looking around the room, scanning the walls that he's never been in before. he's had a few sleepless nights before; it turns out that tonight will probably be one of them.

soon, jake has had enough of trying to get the sleep he probably doesn't need much of at this point and quietly hops out of bed and goes down the hall. he hears cheol's soft snores come from his bedroom as he walks by- and it makes him resent him in a way. he wished he could sleep like a little boy again.

in the living room, you're lying awake in your makeshift bed on the couch. you don't know if the reason you can't sleep is that you're uncomfortable sleeping in someone else's house or that you can't stop thinking about how big of a problem your trust issues are.

at this point, you just couldn't sleep- there was too much stuff on your mind. you got up to get your bag, careful to not cause a loud noise that would wake the people upstairs. you reach in to grab a cigarette that chaerin had given you a few weeks ago. you opened the off-white back door and walked out onto the small porch.

jake walked down the stairs and noticed the backdoor open, glancing over at the couch and seeing that you were gone. he walked towards the door to close it, figuring that you had left and accidentally left the door open.

jake saw you outside, sitting on one of the old wooden chairs as you looked out into the backyard. he watched you for a minute, trying to figure out why you were out there at this time of night. he creaked open the door, before stepping out onto the creaky plywood of the porch.

you jerked around, surprised that someone else was up at this time. you and jake looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then you chuckled and patted the chair beside you for him to sit. jake closed the door behind him and sat down, copying how you were sitting.

"what're you doing up this late?" you asked, concern laced through your voice.

"couldn't sleep. what about you?"

"i couldn't sleep either."

you stuck your hand in the pocket of your hoodie and took out the cigarette and lighter. you stuck the cigarette in your mouth and lit it.

"you smoke?" jake asked, he knew chaerin smoked, but he didn't take you for the smoking kind.

"yeah," you shrugged, "it helps me relax." you exhaled and offered the cigarette to jake, which he refused.

you liked that someone was up with you at this time of night. busan always had someone up at this hour, no matter what, but it was nice to be up with someone beside you. the night was as calm as busan could get. the occasional train would go by, a car would drive down the street, and sometimes a laugh would echo around the neighbourhood.

jake liked that you were the one awake with him. every once in a while, he would take a little peek at you and notice something different. your cheekbones, the single freckles scattered around and how every time you inhaled from the cigarette, you closed your eyes, really taking in the moment. the smoke swirled around them, and the smell of your shampoo from your hair made jake wish that this moment wouldn't end, but he was starting to feel tired again somehow.

"i heard you're on the rugby team," you said, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"yeah, and a few other sports teams."

"do you like it?"

"yeah, i guess. i liked it more when i was younger, i think."

the two of you went back to being silent again, both thinking of different things. jake thought about how his parents forced him into sports when he was younger and wished he had started playing an instrument instead. you think about what your dad and mom are doing as you sit awake with sim jake.

"do you ever want to leave busan?" it was jake, now breaking the silence.

"yeah, all the time."

"do you have anywhere you want to go?"

"madrid, in spain." you said, throwing your finished cigarette down onto the grass. "do you want to go anywhere?"

"anywhere in california with a beach."

"why with a beach?"

jake shrugged, setting his head on the chair behind him, "you know, hot beach chicks."

you scoffed at his response with a smile, "you think hot beach chicks would be into you?"

"well," jake thought for a moment; he had never been on a beach before, so he didn't know if he fit the requirements as a 'beach boy', "i'm sure one of them will be."

you nodded and laughed at him, "they said opposites do attract." you reached into your pocket again, untangling your headphones.

jake has thought about opposites attracting before- he's never been able to tell if it's true when it comes to people. jake's tried to imagine his 'dream girl' before, but it's always been someone that was similar to him- never such a different person. he thinks that maybe you're the closest thing to his dream girl- but he has no idea how truly different you two are.

you're tired and wish you could sleep- and jake is tired and wishes he couldn't.

but still, you sit outside on the porch, sharing headphones as you both listen to one ok rock, your minds drifting to different topics once again.

over the next few weeks, chaerin and jay started becoming closer. you didn't mind jay, but you didn't think that it was that great of him to keep chaerin a secret from everyone except for you and jake. the two of them were always around each other, and when they weren't, because jay had practice, chaerin would not stop talking about him.

jake and you started talking in passing in the halls or at chaerin's house when chaerin and jay would go up to her bedroom together. overtime, it felt like jake was becoming your only friend.

jake has been going to your house almost every day now. jake liked your house. it was quiet, and he felt addicted to it. your brothers don't come home until late at night, and your mother is always working. your family could also not stand the silence that had crept its way into their house.

the two of them were up in her room like usual. she was looking at her window on her bed, her elbows propped up on the sill. jake walked around her room, picking up some things he'd find and ask questions about them, only getting small answers from her.

slow music played from your record player. jake and you have found out that you share almost all of the same music tastes.

"did you sleep last night?" you had opened up to jake about your insomnia, so when he asked you this question, you weren't surprised.

"kind of, more than usual."

you like nights like these. the sun setting, leaving behind the neighbourhood for the night, and jake somewhere in your room with you. you like to think during times like this. you wonder what it would be like if you hadn't met chaerin- you probably wouldn't have jake then, either. you try to remember what it feels like to get an actual nine hours of sleep. times like these are only toleratable because of jake. you broke the silence that you've been learning to like.

"come on, i need to smoke."

the two have gone to sitting by the window and sharing a cigarette for weeks now. it relax's them, almost enough for them to feel okay. the bags under their eyes have begun to fade since they started hanging out.

they've begun to rely on each other, and it scared both of them. they feel as if they're the only ones who understand each other.

now, the smell of your perfume and smoke surrounds them as they stare out into busan.

"what do you want to be when you're older?" you ask, blowing smoke out the window. over the weeks, they've taken turns asking questions like this, similar to the ones they asked when they first sat outside on chaerin's porch.

"a singer, maybe an actor." his response shocked you, thinking he'd say some kind of athlete or coach. you liked the thought of seeing jake on your tv, another way that he could comfort her.

"what do you wanna be?"

"i don't know, i like psychology a lot."

"that would be fun; maybe then you could tell me what the fuck's wrong with me."

you chuckle and nudge jake, "aw, ya know nothing's wrong with you."

"i guess." jake shrugs and watches you inhale the cigarette. He notices that he's been happier, but only when he's with you. when you're gone, all he wants to do is lay in bed and sleep. or think of her.

"i miss dreaming," you confess suddenly; having twenty-minute quick naps doesn't allow you to really dream up anything.

"i don't. that's all i ever do- my mind doesn't stop with them it's like overflowing."

they go back to silence as jake stares at you again, taking in all your pretty features.

"what?" you smile once you notice him.

"nothing."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

jake wakes up at 7pm, successfully sleeping through the weekend again. he expects the morning light to be seeping through his curtains but realizes that it's too late for that. his thoughts turn to you, wishing that you were there with him. telling him that it's okay. nothing's wrong with you; your voice is in his head.

he's gotten used to waking up in your bed and seeing you awake by the window. you'd be smoking probably, and your earring's getting glimpses of the moonlight. maybe you'd be humming or painting your nails. but now, he's alone in his bed. the guilt begins to wash into him again. he closes his eyes and listens to his family rummaging around the house.

"are you asleep?" his brother, jaesung's, voice invades jake's quiet room. the light from the hallway lights up the room slightly. jake's eyes open, but don't look at his brother. too guilty for not spending time with him again.

"no."

"are you okay?' jaesung's question almost makes jake scoff. do i seem okay?

"yeah. 'm fine."

jaesung knows that his brother is lying. he's been worrying about him for months. the whole family has been. it hurts him. jaesung and jake have always been close. they would play video games together and watch movies. jaesung feels as if he's lost a best friend.

the older brother protectiveness is basically seeping off of him as he continues to watch jake lie in bed. it reminded him of his mother when they were younger.

"how's jay? or sunghoon? i haven't seen them around recently?" jaesung asks but gets no response from jake. "or how's that girl? y/n?"

"she's tired."

the almost silent hoarse answer from jake uneases jaesung as he tries to think of how to talk to this stranger he once knew.

jake used to party every weekend with his friends. he loved going out and brightening up any room he walked into. he liked being popular at school and having people cheer for him in the stands at any of his games. but now, jake feels like he'd rather stay in bed than do any of those things. sports have become a chore to him.

"do you want y/n to come over? i'm sure dad won't care."

"yeah."

and now you and jake have seemed to switch places. he's sat on his bed, tugging at the string of his blanket, looking out his window. and you're wandering around, looking at his trophies and medals on his shelves. it's the first time you've been to his house. his room is what you expected; messy, and there's clothing everywhere, papers thrown, and the posters that jake's collected over the years are peeling off the walls. jake hasn't been able to clean his room since the summer.

"your dad seems nice." you speak from across the room.

"yeah, i guess."

jake wonders about your parents. he's seen a glimpse of your mom before when he was on the way to your house. you don't talk about them often, usually changing the subject. he knows that they hurt you.

maybe that's why you and him bond so well; you both have sleeping problems and problematic parents.

"do you know what you're going to study in college?" you ask him, changing the subject.

"kinesiology," jake stated, "it's the only thing i could really go for with all my history in the school's sports teams."

you nod your head at his words, "i'm sure you could do something else; you'll be good at anything."

jake scoffs, "maybe not anything, but there might be something else for me."

you continue to stare around his room, trying to find something else to talk about before you stand up. "i think i should head back home now." you figured that you shouldn't overstay your welcome at the sim house. it was the first time you had ever been there, and it was already getting late into the night.

"you don't wanna spend the night?" jake asks, turning from his window to look at you, "i sleep at yours all the time; it'll be fine."

"i don't know, j." you shrug, "my brother's been home all day; he'll be wondering where i went to this late at night."

jake hums in agreement at your words, "that's okay; maybe next time then."

"yeah, next time." you take a step towards his bedroom door. "have a good sleep, jake." you smile softly at him.

"be careful walking home."

"i will, i'll see you at school."

you close his door behind you, and as you go, you can feel a ripping in your heart.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

jake and you sit outside on their school's field, eating lunch together and daydreaming while listening to music. there's kids eating lunch on the other side of the field- and there are others that are kicking a ball around.

Halloween is just around the corner, and the weather resembles the holiday perfectly. it's gloomy, and leaves have fallen to surround you in a daze. although it's lunch, it feels like dusk. your jackets are zipped up, and you're sitting close to each other.

you pick up your sandwich, and your mind starts to wander off again. you think about sleep and how it feels. you wonder if your brothers are okay. you wonder if they think about you. you hate thinking about them like this because you know they aren't. they've never been the closest siblings, especially not now, with your parents basically abandoning you. being the youngest in your family, you feel like the rutt of them.

you would like to have a family like jake's; wealthy, loving, and they don't avoid each other like the plague. you know about his dad and his brother, but you've never really heard about his mom. you wonder what it must've been like to be held by a dad who loves you.

you watch jake out of the corner of your eye. the way he slowly eats, too caught up in his book to read fast. you wonder if he'll do his homework for once or go instantly to sleep when they get to your house after school. you wonder if he sleeps better at your house or his.

the breeze picks up and ruffles jake's books' pages.

"are you scared of anything, jake?"

he stops and looks up at you, pausing before he answers, "planes or turbulence. stuff like that."

"why?"

"uh, i'm not sure. maybe that's how i died in a past life."

"ah, you don't believe in that shit, do ya?" you nudge him with a smile.

jake does, if more than anything, he does .he thinks about how his mother used to talk about her fear of cars.

"what are you scared of?"

"ghosts." you smile at each other, jake shaking his head at you before returning to his book.

their walk home is spent by both of them complaining about how it's too early in the year to be so damn cold. her hands are freezing, and she wants to reach out and grab jake. but something forces her not to. she knows how jake feels about girls getting too close to him. it triggers some memories of him and his ex. she likes his warmth, though.

the past week, you had been sleeping for a bit, but only when jake's there. it's the warmth from him, you conclude. you finally feel not alone. his light breaths and the noises from busan remind you that you aren't going to be alone forever. you like knowing that jake will be there when you sleep.

when you step into your house, your brother, soobin, is sitting at the table. he's reading a textbook and looks deep in thought. he glances at you two and mumbles a quick 'hey' before you guys head upstairs to your bedroom to do your usual routine.

later in the night, jake is lying down on your bed. his eyes are closed, but he's not asleep. he's listening to you hum along to a song you both like as you lay down on your crossed arms on the window sill.

you were thinking about how jake used to date lee isa, the cheerleader. you never heard anything about her from him. he's told you about everyone in his life except for his mom and isa.

jake's listening to you hum until you're not, making him open his eyes and look at your slumped-over figure. "what're you thinking about?" he knows your habits so well now.

"you," you answer nonchalantly.

jake smiles and closes his eyes again, "yeah? and what about me?"

"you and isa." jake's smile drops at the mention of his ex's name.

"why are you thinking about that?"

he sees you shrug at the window, not looking at him, "you never mention her."

"well why would i mention her? we broke up months ago."

he hears you hum in response from the bottom of the bed where you sat cross-legged, "did you love her?"

jake sighs at your question, rubbing his face in annoyance. he hated thinking about chaeyoung. he blames her for triggering his sleep problems. he blames her for him falling out of love with sports. he blames her for why his whole life isn't fair.

he knows it's not right for him to blame her for everything. but he can't help it. blaming someone else is so much easier than blaming yourself.

"are you tired?" he asks you, avoiding the question you had asked.

"i'm always tired," you mumble into your arm, your eyes closed.

jake tsks, "i meant, are you tired enough to try to sleep."

you pause and think for a moment, "i could maybe sleep."

"come lay down then." you hear jake ruffle the blanket behind you, flipping it over, so you crawl in your blanket beside him.

your heartbeats quicken as you go under. the scent of jake completely taking over you even though you're in your bedroom. your back was facing him, trying to not get too close to him. you knew this was a bad idea, but when his arm reached around you to pull you close, tightening his grasp on you, you just couldn't get yourself to push him away.

jake's thumb found a way to slowly rub circles on your stomach that was showing due to jake's hoodie being pushed up your body from lying down. you that knew you should be stopping him, but you felt the calmest you have felt in years.

jake instantly fell asleep, having the best sleep he has had in a long time. you tried to sleep, but even though you were comfortable, you couldn't stop thinking about isa. you remembered a month ago when chaerin told you she and jake had a really messy breakup. the way jake changed the subject from her and being in love didn't sit right with you.

you felt like you knew mostly everything about sim jake, but you felt like he was holding something big back from you. you felt like you were holding things back from jake yourself.

you finally closed your eyes and fell asleep in jake's embrace, hoping that when you woke up, everything would still be okay between you two.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

the next day when you both woke up, it was okay between you two. you got ready for school and walked to school together. you didn't see your brother on the way out, figuring that he had already left, and possibly didn't even spend the night.

things at least seemed normal between you and jake. at lunch, chaerin came and sat with you outside. you hadn't seen the black-haired girl for a week, having been too caught up with her boyfriend. you figured that jake would make his way out and sit with the both of you, but he never came.

you thought that maybe he figured you wanted some alone time with your best friend. but chaerin didn't really feel like a best friend anymore. all the times you had hung out at her house and skipped classes together felt like nothing to you.

"jay said he wants me to meet his friends, finally." chaerin said, grabbing the cigarette from your hand and putting it in her mouth. "and god, when did you become such a smoker?"

you shrugged, "when is he going to get you to meet them."

"he didn't say." you rolled your eyes at her obliviousness that jay was definitely not planning on introducing them all any time soon. "and why do you keep looking over there? Are you waiting for someone?"

"what? no, sorry."

chaerin quirked an eyebrow up at you, "how are you and jake anyways?"

"me and jake? we're fine; what do you mean?"

"what you saying there's nothing between you and jake? i know you guys hang out a lot."

"we're just friends, chae." you rested your head against the cement wall, looking at your friend.

"mhm." chaerin smirked at you but decided to leave it.

jake didn't meet you at your locker at the end of the day like he usually does, so you can walk home together. you waited twenty minutes before you realized he probably wasn't coming and you should just go home.

your mind began to worry that maybe you had upset jake- or weirded him out in some way last night. it was the first time that you two had shared a bed together and had gotten some decent sleep- or at least you had gotten some sleep; maybe jake didn't.

he didn't answer your text when you got home from school, so you figured or more so hoped that he had just fallen asleep and that he would get back to you later.

but actually, jake had left school early.

he went to tell you that he was leaving at lunch, but he saw that you were sitting with chaerin and didn't want to bother you. plus, he knew that you would want to leave too if you knew he was leaving. and jake just wanted to be alone for a minute.

jake woke up with anxiety in his chest that morning with you laying peacefully beside him. the scene honestly reminded him of chaeyoung and how many times they had slept together back when jake had an actual normal sleeping routine.

it made jake think of your question the night before 'did you love her?' and it honestly made him feel worse.

the whole reason he and chaeyoung broke up was because jake didn't say those three 'special' words back to chaeyoung. she gave him time to find out if he really loved her, but time didn't help those feelings develop. if anything, they stayed stagnant even more.

their breakup was messy since everyone in the school knew about the two of them dating. isa was a popular cheerleader, and jake was a popular athlete. he thought that chaeyoung and he were really similar, but in fact, they had nothing in common besides the fact that they were both popular.

chaeyoung lost herself in the high school popularity like jake used to. it was their breakup that brought jake out of that reality. he wished he could've stayed in it a bit longer-

but then he wouldn't have met you.

sure, he would've maybe seen you around since he knew you and chaerin were friends, but he definitely would not have gone out of his way to talk to you- especially if he was still dating isa.

jake liked hanging out with you. it was different than when he was with chaeyoung.

because while he dated her, he realized that when they were in public, he was dating isa, but when they were in private, he was dating chaeyoung. and he couldn't keep up with her double life.

with you, it was so much easier. you were yourself so he could be himself. at least, he tried to be. at least he could be.

the whole messy breakup that involved the whole cheerleading team scowling and glaring at him every time one of them saw him, and all of his team members annoyed him by asking, 'how could you let the hottest girl in the school dump you?'. It all had an effect on jake, and he thought that he was working on it- and it was easier to work on it since he was with you all the time.

he's started to rely on you, and he's scared. he doesn't want to put his all into someone just for them to walk away- he thinks maybe that's what chaeyoung felt with him. but now he's too tired to think anymore, and he just wants to go to bed.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

jake shakes awake on his own later on. the guilt and anxiety bubbling up too much within him that it wakes him up. he feels hopeless and stupid. why can't he shake this sadness away that has him feeling like he's sinking?

jake looks across his messy bedroom at his old rugby jersey and can't figure out why he's lost so much interest in it. he used to love running around and playing with the ball, nowadays, he can't even pick it up.

his first thought is how he wants you. but he knows tha tyou're dealing with your stuff. he thinks to himself that he's just another bother to you- and he can't have himself relying on someone else.

and now jake is hysterically crying. for months, he's been feeling like he's been holding all of this in. it's like he's crying out his whole thought process. he's shaking in his bed, and he can't seem to stop.

"jake?" jaesung's voice invades his bedroom again like the week before. "what's wrong?"

he doesn't get an answer as jake continues to cry. he can't even see jaesung because of the tears overflowing. it's not like he wants to anyways. he's been hurting his first best friend for months now.

jaesung sits down on the bed beside his younger brother. a hand resting on jake's shoulder, rubbing circles and shushing him.

it takes a few minutes for jake to calm down, jaesung staying with him the entire time- to both of them, it feels like an eternity.

"move over; let me lie down."

the sim brothers lie on their backs and stare up at the posters on jake's ceiling that you had taped back up properly for him. it's silent between them. jaesung struggles to find words to say. he's never seen anyone like this besides their mom.

"mom's probably disappointed in me." jaesung thinks out loud, mainly to himself.

"why you?"

"because i've let my brother feel like this for so long." jaesung pauses before continuing, "i've tried to help you, but i just never know how." jake reminded jaesung of their mother so much. they keep their emotions hidden and never talk about it until it's too late.

jaesung hates it.

he hates that the trait has gone into his brother. a part of him wishes that he was the one to inherit it instead.

"i never know how, either."

it's silent between them again, until jake starts quietly crying again.

"i miss mom, jae."

"me too."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

soobin is sitting at the kitchen table when you come downstairs in the morning for school. he's already dressed for work, and it makes you scared to go downstairs- as if you were to you'd guys would fight like usual.

"hey soob," you say as you make your way across the kitchen to get your school bag. it's the first time in a while that you actually get to look at your older brother. soobin and you are only three years apart, which is closer in age than your oldest brother.

when you were younger, soobin and you used to look exactly like your mother. you all had the same eyes and lips and dark, straight hair. your oldest brother looks identical to your father- and you wonder if he even sees your dad when he looks in the mirror.

"are you going to school today?" soobin asked with a surprised tone, he knows how much you skip it.

"yeah, i am."

"going to all of your classes?"

"yeah, i am." you roll your eyes at him with a smirk.

the conversation with your older brother resembles how they used to be before your dad left. it was like you were still close brother and sister instead of strangers that were somehow related. you wonder if this would be the last time you'd see soobin for a while; him disappearing for a month is not uncommon.

"have a good day at school then, y/n." soobin stares at you, unsure what to say to you as you stare back at him with your hand on the front door's knob.

you smile at him, "i won't." you wish you could stay at home with your brother for a little longer, but school is waiting, and chaerin says she has something important to tell you. "see you." the siblings nod their heads at each other, and it already feels like they've gone back to being strangers.

at school, you sat through your lunch confused as to why you hadn't seen even a glimpse of jake. chaerin sat with you at lunch, where you only gave vague answers to her new rant of problems she's been having with jay that you're sure you've heard before.

you walked past the rugby team in the hall and didn't see that brown shaggy head of hair that you had analyzed so many times in your bedroom late at night.

you didn't even see park jay in the herd of athletes. the rest of them didn't like too familiar to you, but you've seen a couple of them in pictures on jake's shelves or in his phone that he showed you. the captain of the rugby team, lee heeseung, was the only one that noticed you scanning them as you walked by, earning a curious look from him before you walked away.

you saw chaerin at her locker farther down the hall, deciding to ask her if jay was at school today.

chaerin scoffed at your question, rolling her eyes and turning back to rummage through her locker for something.

"what?" you asked her, confused at her response.

"if you actually listen to me when i speak, then you'd know he wasn't here." chaerin stated, "and why do you suddenly care about my boyfriend?"

"because i'm wondering where jake is i-."

"oh of course," chaerin slams her locker door shut, "jake this, jake that, whatever! i know that you guys bonded over... whatever sleeping problems you have going on, but you didn't have to ditch me for your boyfriend or whatever. i didn't ditch you; at least i try to tell you things, but you're always caught up with jake."

"he's- he's not my boyfriend, chae."

chaerin scoffs at your response, shaking her head and looking away from you. "that's really all you got from what i just said?"

"no! i heard the rest! and i'm sorr-!"

"just leave it, y/n, i'll see you around maybe." chaerin turns on her heel and heads to class, leaving you standing alone in the hallway as the bell rings for last period to commence.

you really struggled through your last period, walking in late, earning a warning from your teacher, staring at your classmates and worrying about jake and chaerin on your mind throughout it.

as soon as the final bell rang, you went straight to jake's house. you've only been to his house once before, but you've walked him home a few times, so you knew exactly where to go. you wondered why jake hadn't answered your text all day when everything seemed fine the day before.

walking up to the house, you see a boy that you had learnt the name of through jake, park sunghoon, leaving jake's house. he looked tired and his hair which jake described as 'always had to be perfect' was messy. he sauntered down the porch steps and started walking down the street away from you, not paying attention to the Halloween decorations that people were starting to put out for the year.

you waited a minute, kicking the fallen leaves on the sidewalk before walking any closer to jake's house, contemplating whether or not you should really be doing this. but nonetheless, you walk up to the white front door of the sim house and knock.

an equally tired-looking park jay opens the door. he looks much different than how he usually portrays himself in the hallways at school and on the sports field. you almost laugh at the thought that this is what jake and you must look like to other people with his messy hair and dark circles under his eyes.

jay looks confused to see you standing there but still greets you, "hey, y/n." "hi, why weren't you at school today?" you looked up at the rugby player. "no reason, just didn't want to go." jay hated lying, and he hated people who lied. but he realized that he had been lying a lot recently, not just to other people but to himself. "is jake here?" you could hear jay's breath hitch as you asked the question he knew was coming. "um, i don't think you should see him right now. he's sleeping and was in a bad mood earlier." the silence between them was awkward and uncomfortable. you moved nervously on your feet, as if it was the first time you had ever spoken to jay all over again. still, you nodded your head, acknowldging what jay had said. jay looked over your visibly tense body. he scanned you from head to toe, watching your finger start to tap against your upper thigh. over the years, jay had come knowledgable to when someone tapped their finger against their thigh repeatedly: they needed a smoke. it was a common habit in the house he'd grown up in, "come on, let's go to the backyard."

- jay sat cross-legged, picking and playing with the leaves and grass on the ground. you lay beside him, blowing smoke rings. it was now a somewhat comfortable silence between the two, different from how it had been minutes before. you watched the mid-afternoon clouds roll against the sky in a somewhat slow manner, your smoke mixing in. "Did something happen last night with jake?" you broke the silence.

"i mean, he probably doesn't want me saying anything." you sat up as jay confessed.

"he doesn't want to see me?"

"not today, no. he's tired."

you sighed, "he's always tired."

you were sick of the game that jay was playing. you knew something happened, and you wanted to know what. your first thought was that you had said something or maybe sleeping in the same bed had triggered something in jake. if jake didn't want to be your friend anymore, he could've said it himself. you're used to people leaving.

so, you left jay playing in the grass and leaves and walked home. you held back the tears that were threatening to fall.

sim jake was now just some other person that left you behind.

but still, jake's sweet laugh echoes through your mind.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- it has been twelve days since you had last seen jake. you haven't been going to school. you don't see the point in it. the only reason why you went to school before is now gone. you don't think you could go anyways. you haven't slept for more than an hour in five days. the school has called your house to inform your mom about your absence, but it's no use because she isn't home. you've gotten used to the quietness again, and you wish you hadn't. you try to not think about jake, but you can't help imagining him lying beside you in your bed, laughing. his shaggy hair shaking with his movement and his warmth surrounding you. sometimes, you think you can really hear him calling your name, but you realize that it is just because you're sleep deprived.

today is halloween, and you knew what you would be.

you'd be alone like you have been for the past weeks.

you spend your days quietly in your quiet house. you listen to the chaos of busan from your window. most days, you smoke cigarettes and read the old poetry you found in your mother's drawers.

other days, you're in the bath, listening to the water run around you. you like to imagine then that you're starting fresh with everything. that when you get out, everything will be okay. but the only thing that will make all this okay is if jake would be there.

when you find yourself in your kitchen, you sit on the island looking out the window into the backyards of the neighbourhood. you sit there for a while sometimes and lose track of time so easily. you feel like you sit there for five minutes, but it's been an hour. everything moves by so quickly. you used to like being alone in the quiet, but now it's just so lonely.

tonight, the sky darkened quickly, and kids in Halloween costumes swarmed the streets. you kept the front porch light off, not wanting any kids to come knocking on the door. you sat on the couch, watching true romance. with the house being so still, you welcomed the company of the tv. the movie was at the part where clarence had fought alabama's pimp. his face being shown as bloody and his knuckles sore. you couldn't help but think of jake, knowing how hurt he got when his rugby team broke out into fights with the opposite teams.

when the movie ends two hours later, you fall asleep on the couch. the way you've been falling asleep recently is a lot different than how you used to. you're called up in a ball, a frown on your face. when you're actually asleep, you dream of jake for a moment.

it's always the same dream: he's alone in his room, on his bed, with an unlit cigarette in his hand. tears have been streaming down his face for hours, frustrated with himself for not being able to be who he used to be- that happy jake that everyone loved. then, you walk into his room. his face lights up automatically, and pats a spot beside him, motioning for you to sit with him. you curl yourself into jake's side, his arm over your shoulder. he lets the cigarette drop from his hand and onto his messy floor.

and then he falls asleep happily. you like that thought: the thought of how you're the only person-the only thing that can get jake to sleep with a smile on his face.

you feel wetness on your face suddenly.

"y/n? y/n!"

your eyes open, and you realize it's raining and dark outside. it feels like you have been asleep for days, but in reality, it has only been two hours. a sensation of coldness runs through your body, making you shiver.

a feeling of warmth being placed on your forearm makes you turn your head to side.

"jake?"

"are you okay?" you stare at him, not believing that after two weeks, he's standing in front of you. "come on, let's go inside." he wraps his whole body around you, trying to keep you warm from the rainy Halloween night.

you lay in your bed, blankets upon blankets cover you. your head is titled so you can look out the window, facing away from jake. he sits on a chair that he has brought up from downstairs.

he watches you, your eyes glowing from the streetlight through the window. the bags under your eyes have never looked worse, and he wonders how much you've slept in the past weeks.

it's been quiet for a long time between you two. jake notices that it's the same kind of quiet that's been shed through his house. his dad and jaesung are home more, but they barely talk anymore.

jay and sunghoon have been around a few times. heeseung even came with them once. jake can tell that something is wrong with them all- its like they're keeping a secret and he's the only one that's not in on it. he was still grateful that his friends came and checked up on him, but still, all he could think about what how happier he'd be if he was with you.

"how did i end up outside? how did you find me?" you finally speak, breaking the silence.

"you were standing at the corner, just staring. i saw you on my way back from the convenience store."

for the past week and a half, jake has been going to the small store late at night. he wanders the aisles, trying to find something to distract himself from thinking about you. he thinks it worked at first, picking up random chocolate bars and wondering where they had been before. Still, then he remembered he had seen you at his exact convenience store before.

it was the summer before, jay and him were there, picking out drinks that they could bring to the party with them, when the door's bell chimed, signifying that someone had come inside the store. jay was bent down, skimming over the pop flavours and reading them out to jake while he glanced over his shoulder at the door.

jake saw you start wandering the aisle by the cash register, smiling at the man behind the counter. jake remembers thinking how cute your messy hair was as it wrapped around your headphones. he thought you were cute with your shaky hands reaching out to place a single chocolate bar on the counter and paying.

jay distracted him then, handing him multiple bottles of soda for him to hold. he turns around just in time to see you leave the store, your messy hair turning the corner towards your house.

jake wondered then that maybe if he hadn't met chaeyoung that night at the party, he might have thought about you again, gone back to that convenience store and seen you, ask you about what song you were listening to. maybe then he wouldn't feel as shitty as he does now.

jay told him that you haven't been going to school either, which worried him. he wanted you to get good grades and graduate. he wanted you to go to college and study psychology. he wanted you to be successful and get out of busan unlike him, who would be stuck here forever.

jake's been in your room a relentless amount of times before, but now, he's sitting in this chair as if it's his first time again. your damp hair is sprawled out around your head on your pillow, your old, wet clothes are hung up in the bathroom, and you're wearing one of jake's old shirts that he had left over on accident a few weeks ago.

"i missed you, y/n."

jake smiles, the same pretty smile that you've gotten used to. it makes your chest hurt at the thought of how much you've missed it.

"did you?"

jake nods, "i thought about you a lot, and i'm sorry we had to stop talking for a bit."

it's silent in the room again until you throw open your blanket on one side, patting the spot next to you. "it's okay."

jake slides into bed next to you, covering his body up and now laying so your arms were brushing against each other.

jake closes his eyes, and you imagine that he's thinking about what it would be like if they had never stopped talking. how close would they be now? how many more inside jokes and songs would they have known?

"i'm really sorry though, i am. i just-." jake pauses, making you turn your head to you're looking at each other. "i had some shit to deal with, and i didn't want to bring you into it."

your faces are close to each other as you scan the other's faces. you've been close to each other like this before, but this time it feels different. it feels like you're being sucked into each other like you're slowly being pieced together forever. you bite your lip before asking, "are you okay now?"

"yeah, i am, but i-."

"then, it's okay. and let's sleep because i'm tired, and i feel like i can actually sleep tonight."

"why tonight?"

"because you're here."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

jake and you decide to skip school when you wake up the next day. the rain from last night has stopped and left everything dampened and feeble. it almost feels odd to be around each other again, like you're forbidden to be together, but there's nothing actually forbidding it.

jake falls into your routine almost instantly, sitting around your house in silence, but not alone anymore. you're smoking as he reads beside you; music from your mother's record player is filling the lack of conversation.

you want to ask jake what had happened exactly that made him turn away from you. you wanted to ask if it would ever happen again and if you should prepare for it. you had so many questions to ask, but you kept quiet. if he wanted to tell you, then he would. he's said he's sorry, and you aren't sure if you're just naive to believe it or not. but you do, and you're so glad he's back beside you.

you glance over at the book that jake found on the old bookshelf you have in your house. your dad used to read to you all when you were younger; he's the only one that ever kept up with the collection of books on those shelves. now, they go untouched- the first person to even look at the thing in years was jake.

he's picked up romeo and juliet, you can see the star-crossed lovers on the faded cover. the pages are yellow from the oxidation over the years- and it makes you think, when did your dad buy the book.

"why're you reading that?"

jake puts his thumb on the part of the page he was on and looks at you. "i don't know, it's good." you make a disgusted expression on your face, making him laugh. "have you ever read it?"

"no, but i know what it's about."

"okay well, i'll read it to you and then you can see what it's really about."

you shrug before bending over to the table and putting your cigarette out in the empty coffee mug. you move so that you're lying down with your head in jake's lap, romeo and juliet is just above your head as jake opens the book and begins to read where he left off.

..."my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. the more i give to thee, the more i have, for both are infinite."...

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

walking into school for the first time in three weeks was nerve-wracking. not many people at your school knew of your existence, but the stares you received made your hands shake in your sweater's pockets. they were most likely staring because sim jake had returned too and was walking next to you, but still, their eyes never left yours.

you couldn't tell if jake was as nervous as you. you figured that jake was used to being in the spotlight. he was used to having everyone's attention on him as soon as he walked into a room. but that was before he got depressed- before the dark, twisted thoughts started seeping into his mind and made him confused about who he really was.

you feel jake's hand slip into your pocket, latching onto your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. you figured he had felt your anxious behaviour beside him; it was something you had noticed he picked up easily ever since you became friends.

there was a split of students in the hallway, everyone moving out of the way when they saw someone coming from behind them.

isa stood in the middle of the hallway in front of you and jake. her high ponytail swung down and over her shoulder as she kept an unamused expression on her face. her arms were crossed over her chest, covering the school's logo on her cheerleading uniform. her eyes scanned you and jake, leading down to where jake's hand disappeared into your pocket.

jake ripped his hand away from you, seeing how isa's eyes turned darker at the physical contact between you two. your heart clenched at the action, but you knew it was probably for the best of your and jake's lives at the moment.

"hi, jakey." isa spoke with a fake smile on her red lips. jake answered with a quiet greeting back, trying to avoid her eyes. "so, who's this?" isa looked at you, "and why are you holding her hand?"

"we're friends." jake's statement is short but to the point and for some reason it makes your chest feel empty. like there's a dreading feeling growing there, and you aren't sure when it started.

isa's face contorts into a disgusted expression as she looks at you again. this time you can tell she's judging everything about you as her eyes look you up and down, resting longer on your hair before looking back to jake. "i thought you had a better taste in friends but i guess i was wrong."

you tried to hold back your laugh at her words, looking down at your shoes and biting your lip. she was so bold, so opinionated that she obviously didn't think more about her words before she spoke.

"why is that funny?" isa speaks to you, stepping forward, so she is right in front of you. you look up at her and can only shrug. "do you agree? are you self-aware that you look like shit?" the rest of the cheerleaders laugh behind her. "do you know what concealer is? god those bags."

"chaeyoung." jake warns with frustration.

"what?" she looks away from you, "god, you need some concealer too." she shakes her head and steps back from you both, "what the fuck do you guys do together to look so awful?"

"do you have to be a piece of shit?" you all turn and see chaerin standing beside you now, an annoyed look on her face as she stares isa down.

"oh great, the school's ashtray is here." isa rolls her eyes, and the students in the hallway start laughing.

"well," chaerin starts, pulling out a cigarette and putting it in her mouth, "at least i'm not the school's slut." the laughing stopped instantly at chaerin's statement.

"me?" isa points to herself in shock, "i'm the slut? what about you? you go around fucking everything in sight!"

"you better shut your fucking mouth, isa." jay cuts in suddenly, walking in front of you all to stand before isa. "just for once, shut up." you could see chaerin go frigid as jay spoke in front of you.

"what the hell are you doing, jay?" isa asks, her arms crossing over her chest again.

"i'm obviously telling you to fuck off."

isa scoffs, "and why's that? it's not like you've ever seen jake in months. all he does is run around with those two... things." she nods her head at you and chaerin.

"because he's still my friend," jay turns and looks at jake, making eye contact with you, "they're both my friends. and she's my girlfriend," he points at chaerin, "so like i said before, shut your fucking mouth about any of them, or better yet, just shut up about everyone and mind your own business!"

the students gasped when chaerin came beside jay, wrapping their arms around each other's backs.

isa scoffs once again before looking at jake over jay's shoulder, "you're an idiot for losing me, jake, i hope you realize that." she turns on her heel and disappears down the hall, her cheerleader friends following behind her.

the bell rings to start the day of classes, making the students groan and start heading to their class. it leaves the four of you in the hallway together. all looking at each other, unsure of what to say.

it's chaerin that breaks the silence first, "i'm sorry, y/n. for our fight a few weeks ago."

"no, it's okay. you were right, i was being a bit selfish when it came to my feelings."

"no, i was being selfish. all i ever did was talk about me, i never even gave you a chance to speak or ask how you are."

"it's okay, chae, don't worry about it."

"we're still friends?" chaerin asks sheepishly, playing with her hair nervously.

"of course, we are!"

chaerin grins at you before wrapping you up in a tight hug. "good! because you're like my only friend besides him!" she points at jay, who only rolls his eyes. "and i can't believe you stood up for us! where the hell did that come from?"

"she deserved everything i said," jay explains, "i don't know why she thinks she's so above everyone." jake stays quiet beside you, both of you watching chaerin kiss jay before they say their goodbyes to you quickly, chaerin pulling jay down the hall as they giggle.

"are you okay?" jake asks you, "i'm sorry for what she said, i should've said something, but-"

"jake, it's okay, i don't care what she said about me." jake nods, kicking the floor gently with his foot. "are you okay?"

"yeah, it's just weird that that was the first time I've spoken to her since we've broken up, i guess she's still mad at me."

"she'll get over it."

jake scoffs, "yeah, and hopefully soon."

"i'll see you after school, right jakey?" you ask, mocking isa's nickname for him.

jake only nudges you before walking away with a genuine smile. you watch him disappear down a hall before you head outside. you were already late to class, so you might as well just not go,

maybe you'll go to second period.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

it rains for the majority of november. everyday jake and you share an umbrella as you walk to and from school together. he holds the umbrella so you can smoke. sometimes you hold the umbrella as jake finds a good song to put on as you share headphones.

it still rains the day that jake has somehow persuaded you to go to a party with him. he has been feeling better recently. he's still quiet at school, but he spends more time with you laughing than he does reading and listening to music in silence. his smile makes you feel better, and you wonder if he's picked up on that habit of yours like he has with your anxious tics.

the sky is dark navy blue as you walk with jake to the party. the neighbourhood has been quiet for the rest of the afternoon; the night will most likely remain just as quiet. you wish you could say the same for yourself, aware that your night will consist of loud teenagers and the bass of probably shitty music that you nor jake are very fond of.

jake holds your hand until you arrive at the party, pulling his away when you step inside lee heeseung's house. you've noticed that jake doesn't hold your hand in public like he does when you're alone, but you don't bring it up to him, knowing that you probably won't like his answer as to why he does it.

jake says he'll see you in a little bit when you both find chaerin and then he's disappearing into the crowd of people that go to your school, but you have no idea who they are.

you and chaerin are sitting on some chairs close to a window at the backdoor. you imagine that it's just you and chaerin in this house, and you're waiting for jay and jake to return for you both. you ask her about cheol, and if he still wants to join the army when he's older.

the sun officially set an hour ago, so now the backyards are only lit up by the street lamps. there are a few kids in the backyard; a couple kissing on the bench swing, two girls taking turns drinking out of a wine bottle and a boy smoking by himself in the far back corner. even though the music is loud and every now and then there is a too loud of a scream from someone, it's relaxing.

you let your mind start to wander again. it's the first time in a while that you let yourself think about deep things. it starts with your parents, your mystery brothers and then jake.

you've thought about being jealous of jake's life every now and then. you almost always get over the feeling, but it still stays in your head. it's how he's always been popular and good-looking and how he gets the prettiest girl in your school to fall for him. it's the way that he can sleep while you can only sleep for a few hours if he's the one that holds you. you've heard him talk in his sleep a few times; the mention of the word 'mom' slips out his mouth the most often, followed by jaesung's.

you're glancing around the party then, easily finding jake being the centre of attention. you watch him, feeling creepy and guilty as you do it. it's like you're watching him from a time in his life that you weren't a part of. like he doesn't know you exist, and he won't want you watching him. it's almost like you're spying on him. he's laughing, throwing his arm over some guy you've never seen before but figuring that the two of them are friends.

you're wondering then what will happen tonight. will jake realize that he misses all the parties he's always gone to? will he realize that he doesn't belong with someone like you? you wonder if he doesn't need you anymore. he has been sleeping regularly and laughing more. you wonder if the change in him after tonight will be like clockwork; inevitable and easy to happen.

"y/n," chaerin taps your shoulder, gaining your attention. the girl's black hair is braided back tonight, letting her pretty facial features be noticeable. "are you okay? you're shaking." chaerin's still been keeping an eye on you for the past month. she's also noticed that jake's been feeling better, but you seem to stay the same. the dark shades of purple under your eyes have disappeared, but she knows you still aren't up to your best point yet.

you become aware of your shaking knees and hands, making them stop at once. "yeah, i'm fine." you brush your sweaty hands against the fabric of your jeans. you glance back at jake for a second, seeing that he's already staring at you now. you aren't sure if he caught the worried look on chaerin's face for a second or your fake smile at her afterwards, but he's nodding his head at you for you to go somewhere together.

"i'm gonna go with jake for a second." chaerin nods, leaning back in her chair again and relighting her cigarette. you walk over to the front of the living room, where jake stands waiting for you.

"you wanna go outside?"

the early december air is cold on the balcony of lee heeseung's house. you and jake sit side by side on the couch, your hands brushing against each other so that you both don't want to be the first one to grab the other's hand. your hair is down and messy again, something that is unpreventable but in a pretty way. in a way that jake is sure you have no idea about, but he understands it more than anyone else ever will. from afar, they most definitely look like just friends, but up close, it's evident that there is something deeper between them in natural light.

"what's your favourite song? of all time." you have listened to the same music since you were born. you grew up listening to your dad's rock bands and your mother's classic 80s records.

"probably something by the neighbourhood. or something that would piss my parents off. they don't like my music very much."

"they don't like rock or alternative music?"

jake scoffs, shaking his head, "most definitely not; they were always the good-two-shoes type of kids in high school and college- rock music was not something they listened to." you nod your head as you listen to him. "what's your favourite song? of all time."

you think, looking up at the starry sky and imagining yourself being able to only listen to one song for the rest of your life. being able to be content with that one single song. music was something that controlled your life; you couldn't do anything without it.

"i don't know, there's so many good songs. so many songs that make me happy."

"yeah, i figured you say something like that." jake laughs, taking a sip from his red solo cup.

'what does that mean?"

"it means that i've been with you almost every day for three months; if you don't have your headphones in then, you're using that old-ass record player."

"music sounds better on that old-ass record player."

"music sounds better when you're drunk." jake tips his cup up and finishes it; you only smile in return.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

the walk back to jake's house is silent besides your few huffs of struggle from holding jake up. he's too drunk to make any real conversation at the moment. you've both been sleeping pretty well lately, considering your old sleeping habits, and you wonder how jake will sleep tonight. you hope that after tonight the way he looks at you will be the same as when he watches you smoke out the window while humming.

when they get inside jake's bedroom finally, he plops down immediately on his bed. you see that his room is still undesirably messy as if he doesn't even notice it anymore.

jake strips off his sweater so that he's in his jeans and t-shirt. his hair is just as messy as your own as he flips over onto his back. the moonlight outside is shining through his window and is the only light in his room.

you watch him from the closed door of his bedroom, like the first time she did when she came over. you've never seen jake drunk before, but you've heard stories of it. he always made being drunk sound like something fun- but the memories you have with your drunk dad are the opposite.

"you're beautiful, y/n." he smiles that pretty smile of his at you, but his eyes are more slugged than they usually are.

you only scoff in response as you make your way to his bed, grabbing his duvet so pull it over him.

"do you not believe me?"

"not really, no." you said, tucking in the blanket,

"you are, though, so, so beautiful." jake closes his eyes then, and you're staring at him in the moonlight, taking in his cheekbones and heart-shaped lips. you want to tell him that he's beautiful, too.

"you're drunk." you stand up away from him. "i'm gonna go home so I'll see you tomorrow if you're not too hung over."

"don't go, y/n." you turn and stare at him, his eyes looking worried as your hand rests on the doorknob. "just spend the night, you know we sleep better when we're together."

you sigh and think about it; you've never slept over at jake's before. he smiles at you from his pillow when you're standing over his bed again, untucking the blanket you had just tucked. you're slipping in carefully beside him, his cologne engulfing you. jake tucks your hair behind your ear, moving it away from his face so he can see you.

"thank you." jake whispers out as if it was some sort of secret that no one else could hear.

you chuckle, "you don't have to thank me."

"yeah i do," jake nustles his face into your shoulder, "you're the reason i'm happy."

you try to think of a response, feeling your heart beat faster at the spoken words you had only imagined him saying before. before you can think of anything, you hear his soft breaths in your ear, his body going limp beside you as he starts to sleep peacefully.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

jake wakes up in the morning with a headache. the night before was the first time that he had drank in months, and he had drunk a lot. all he can think about when he wakes up is how thirsty he is, he needs an advil and where are you.

he reaches down on the floor beside his bed to grab his sweater that he had thrown off the night before, getting easily frustrated when he can't find it, forcing himself to sit up and look. he's taken aback a bit when he sees that his room doesn't even look like his room anymore. it's not necessarily clean, but the garbage and clothes all over the floor are gone, and his desk is tidy of any papers and pens thrown on it. he instantly knows that you did it; no one else would.

jake walks downstairs and finds you sitting at the table with jaesung and his dad. they're smiling as they talk to you. it brings jake a sense of something he's never felt before. he can't help but compare them to when they had first met chaeyoung. they weren't as happy to see her, they didn't like the way she acted or spoke or 'bossed' jake around.

the creaking on the floor under jake's feet made them turn and look at him, their smiles growing bigger when they saw him. "hey." they greeted him back, asking him how he slept.

jake stood beside you, and you stared up at him, "i'm gonna go now, soobin texted me, and he wants me home."

"okay, do you want me to walk with you?"

"no, i'm okay." you head towards the door, saying bye to jaesung and his dad. jake leans on the wall and watches you put your shoes and jacket on before opening his front door for you.

"thanks for getting me home safe and cleaning my room." jake smiles softly, almost like he's embarrassed to say thank you now.

"it's no problem." you step out onto his porch, "i'll see you tomorrow at school?"

"yeah, tomorrow, be safe, y/n."

"i will." you turn and start to go down the stairs of the porch until he calls your name once again. "yeah?"

jake scratches the back of his neck, "i uh, i meant what i said last night." you tilt your head at his words, "the uh, i think you're beautiful, and you make me happy, i wasn't just drunk and saying shit out of my ass."

you smile up at him, "okay." you nod, "i'll see you tomorrow, j. have a good sleep tonight."

"you too."

jake closes the door then, taking a deep breath for no reason in particular. he wonders how he will sleep tonight now that you're physically gone because he knows you'll be taking up his mind.

your mother is already home when you get home, and she is not in a good mood. you can tell how she is as soon as you get in the door; she's sitting at the kitchen table with her hand on her forehead, pushing back her hair. soobin is sitting beside, leaning back in the chair and looking like he wishes he could be anywhere but there.

they both look up when you close the front door. your mother looks like how she always does; angry but pretty.

"where have you been?" your mom asks, "i got home last night, and neither of you were here. Do you even live here when i'm gone?"

"i was at a friend's house, i slept over." you shrug off your jacket and hang it up, trying to avoid your mother's angry gaze. you glance at soobin who is picking at a loose thread on his sweater. you stand beside the table, looking down at both of them now.

"which friend is this?" your mom turns her nose up at you, "because you smell of men's cologne and cigarettes."

"jake."

"a boy? you slept over at a boys' house?" you mom exclaims, shock on her face. "were his parents home?"

you hold back a scoff at her questions, choosing to look away at the floor. "y/n, i'm talking to you." you look up at your mom with a bored expression on your face. "are you going to answer?"

"why do you care if his parents were home? it's not even like you're home or even a parent at this point." you see soobin look away with a grin on his face, knowing that your words were true and wishing that he could say the same thing.

"i'm not a parent? then who raised you?"

"soobin, yeonjun, dad."

your mother sighs at the mention of your father but chose to not comment on it like she can't even say his name for some reason. "has anyone even heard from yeonjun?" when it stays silent, your mom only sighs again. "well can you try to contact him, please? because i want him to know, i won't be here for christmas."

"you what?" you and soobin exclaim but not moving.

"some coworkers and i need to go to cuba during that week to sort out a few details about a business plan."

"so you're going on vacation on christmas?" soobin deadpans, shaking his head at your mother.

"no, i'm going on a business trip."

"in cuba." you point out.

"for a week." soobin adds on. "why can't you just leave after christmas?"

"because we need to leave on the 22nd." your mother shakes her head before standing up. it remains silent as she gathers her suitcase and jacket. "well, this is not how i expected to spend my day off. i wanted to come home to a house full of my kids and spend some quality time together, but instead, no one's home, and we fight! so thanks a lot!" your mother sighs, rubbing her forehead again because she's angry, "I'll see you later in the week. Hopefully, you'll be home then." she opens the front door, "and please, find yeonjun!"

your mom leaves you and soobin in the silence both of you have gotten used to. soobin avoids the silence at most times, spending nights at his friends' houses, his college or at his girlfriends' house. you're stuck in this house for another year; at least for some of it, you'll get to be with jake.

you don't exchange any words with soobin as he starts to get ready to leave the house for the day, not bothering to tell you where he's going because you're already making your way up the stairs to your bedroom, trying to process the idea of spending christmas alone. the only reason your brothers came home for christmas morning was so that your mother was happy- but now she's not coming, so it'll just be you alone in this sickly quiet house.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

you're used to spending the first days of winter vacation alone. your house is not only quiet during those days, but it gets extremely cold. you start this year's winter vacation the same way. you drink a cup of coffee, listen to your mom's classic records and take a bath.

you must take a bath during this time of year- it's become almost traditional for you. they make you feel cleaner and ready for the cold busan day.

after your bath, you usually sit on the couch, waiting for the day to be over so you can do your whole morning routine over again tomorrow until the day your brothers and mom come home.

this year, it's different. after your traditional bath, you smoke around the house, waiting for jake to come over. it's become traditional itself- the way you and jake lounge around your bedroom as if it's a vacation just for you. both of you take short naps together throughout the day, knowing that it will just mess up your sleep schedule by the time school starts up again in two weeks.

today, jake comes over while he's hungover. you smile at him as soon as he comes in, picking up on how his eyes are squinting from the sunlight reflecting off the snow outside.

jake's gotten used to the little routine you two have going on. it feels familiar and good. he's likes coming over to you sitting on the couch with wet hair, wearing one of his or your dad's shirts.

jake mumbles something to you about wanting to lay in your bed upstairs, away from all the windows down here that bring in all the sunlight that 'kill his head.' you follow him up your stairs as if he's showing you his house instead and plops down on your bed with a sigh of relief. he moves over, so he's against the wall, making room for you.

jake and you lay beside each other; he's telling you about the party he went to last night for park sunghoon's birthday a few days ago. he tells you he didn't plan on drinking that much, but sunghoon always convinces him to drink more. you stop responding to him after a while, getting lost in your thoughts. the thoughts about what jake does when he's drunk, and you're not around.

"what're you thinking about?" jake asks suddenly, putting his hand over yours to stop them from shaking, another habit he's picked up on.

"nothing." you shrug because it really is nothing; the things you think about you don't even know if they are true or not.

"no, tell me." jake moves over so he's on his side facing you now. "i know when something's bothering you, so just tell me."

"how were all the pretty girls at the party?"

jake scoffs at your question, turning his head to look at the window before looking at you again. "are you being serious?"

"yeah, i am."

jake stares at you for a moment, in disbelief at your question, "none of them were as pretty as you." you could only look up at your ceiling, not having enough courage to look at the boy beside you.

jake thinks ever since he met you, you've been insecure about how you look. and it's just something he's never understood. he thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. he wishes he could tell you that more, but every time he does compliment you, you just ignore him or change the subject. he wishes you could see just how pretty you were.

jake reached out and put his hand on your chin, pulling your face so you could look at him, "i mean it. you're the prettiest girl there is, and i wish you were at the party with me last night- it would've been more fun with you."

you shake your head, "no, i would've made it more boring by complaining about the music choice."

jake laughs before going back to being serious, "you're pretty." he can tell you're about to shake your head no again, so he decides to stop you.

his grip on your chin tightens as he leans over and presses his lips to yours.

it's a quick, soft kiss- a peck- and you barely feel it.

"you're pretty."

"j, i-." you're about to disagree again when he pulls you into a kiss again. this one longer, you could feel his heart-shaped lips against yours as you closed your eyes and relaxed.

"say you're pretty."

you pause for a moment, "i'm pretty." you sigh, making jake laugh as you shyly smile.

"say it like you mean it."

you pause again before stating, "i'm pretty."

jake hums in approval, "that's a good girl." he leans in for a kiss again, his hand dropping from your face to play iwth the string of your old sweatpants. when he pulls away again you both look down at where his hand is laying against your abdomen. "can i show you how pretty you are?"

you immediately nod, making jake chuckle softly before he unties your sweatpants and slippin his hands in over your panties. if it wasn't jake beside you, you think you'd be more embarrassed that you're wearing the purple cotton panties you've owned for maybe four years. but with jake, it's comfortable, and you know he won't think anything different of you as fingers slide over the cotton fabric.

you feel like you and jake had talked about everything except your guys' sexual history. it was a topic that you had thought about asking each other but never had the courage to actually ask. "have you ever done something before?" jake asks you, his lips pressing softly into your cheek and down your jaw.

"yeah," you sigh out, trying to suppress the urge to moan at the way his fingers started pressing harder into your clit over your panties. "b-but, it's been- a while." you feel jake smile into your neck at your confession.

"that's okay, baby, we can go slow." you nod in response to him.

jake slips his fingers into your panties, his fingers meeting your core finally. you're so wet for him, his fingers easily running through your slit. he presses into your clit, circling it with his index finger slowly.

"it kills me that you think you aren't pretty." jake confesses now, biting softly on your neck. "i wish you could see how i see you."

"no one-" you suppress a moan again, "no one's ever called me pretty before-you."

jake starts to slip his index finger into your core, feeling your walls clench around it. "it's probably because you intimidate everyone with how pretty you are," you can hear the teasing tone in his voice, "you intimidated me when i first saw you."

he pushes another finger into your core, his fingers reaching deep inside you, feeling all your walls as he curls them upwards.

you almost snort at his confession, "you thought i was intimidating when i- i, bumped into you and my phone went a-across the floor?" your voice was becoming high-pitched when you spoke.

you felt jake shake his head at you, "no, i thought you were pretty when you walked into the convenience store with your messy hair and eye bags." he spoke between each suck and nip at your neck, surely leaving some marks for others to see.

"when- was that?"

"over a year ago." jake shrugs casually as if he isn't knuckles deep inside of you. "i've thought you were pretty for a while y/n, god you even feel pretty; you're so tight around my fingers."

"please," you moaned out, not sure what you were being so polite about as his thumb started rubbing your clit.

you groan and start rocking your hips against his fingers. his fingers start to pump faster in and out of you, creating a pleasant burn up in your stomach.

his thumb continues to rub along your clit, his other hand playing softly with your hair on the pillow. his lips continue to kiss down your neck, his lips circling your collarbones.

"oh god," your hand flies down and holds onto his wrist, your head tips bakfc, your eyes meeting jakes as he looks down at you with a smirk on his face. "i'm gonna cum, jake." his fingers on your clit start to speed up.

"go on, baby, cum all over my fingers, i've been wanting you to for so long." he confesses once again, leaning down and kissing you as your body starts to go rigid from your orgasm hitting. your eyes flutter shut as your grip on his hand tightens.

jake slowly eases his fingers out of you, not wanting to overstimulate you. you watch as he puts his soaked fingers into his mouth, humming at the taste of you. "fuck, just as good as i imagined."

"that's so embarrassing," you whine, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

"what is?" jake laughs, playing with the string of your sweatpants again.

"i didn't know you saw me at the convenience store for the first time." jake laughs into your neck, kissing it once more before pulling away from you.

"well you looked pretty so it doesn't matter." you roll your eyes at him before rolling over so you can face him.

his hand is still playing with your hair, relaxing you. you feel like you could fall asleep and stay asleep for a while with how content you are in that moment.

"what are you doing on christmas?" jake asks suddenly, making you sigh at the mention of the holiday.

"i'll probably be watching re-runs of the same shitty christmas movies downstairs."

"with who?"

"no one."

jake sits up at your words. "what do you mean, no one?"

you roll onto your back again to look up at his shocked expression. you feel embarrassed to explain to him about your mom's actions. jake knows the basic knowledge about your dad, small stuff that you've brought up in passing, but you never speak about your mom. "my mom's going to be in cuba on christmas, i mean, she's in cuba right now and won't be back for a week, so."

"cuba?" jake asks you, "why is she in cuba?"

"a work vacation."

"where are your brothers going to be?"

"they only really come by on christmas to see my mom, so now that she's not coming i most likely won't see them."

"well you're coming to my house on christmas then."

you sit up at his offer, facing him, "jake no, i can't! it's like a family holiday, i can't be there!"

"yes, you can and you will! jae and my dad love you anyway."

you sigh, "i'll think about it."

"great!' jake leans over and kisses you quickly- like it's becoming a habit already and it scares the both of you in the best way possible.

"what..." you start, a quesiton coming to your mind before you're pushing it away.

"what?' jake asks, nudging you, "just say it! we've been through this before, i can obviously tell that there's something you're thinking about."

you pause, trying to think of the proper way to say it before you're turning towards the smiling boy, "what about, your mom? you never mention her, so, i'm just... curious."

jake's smile drops at your question, clearly not expecting the sudden mention of his mother. he lays back down then, his back flat on your bed, as his head lands on one of your pillows. you lay down with him, turning on your side to watch him. you're about to apologize for bringing it up, ready to reprimand yourself for not staying out of other peoples' business.

"my mom died," jake pauses to think for second, "three years ago now."

your reach your hand over and grab his. you've seen jake in tired states, sad states and angry states, but never like this. he looks like he's about to burst into tears and never stop. "i'm sorry, j." is all you can say to him.

"it's okay, you didn't know."

"how did she pass?"

"in a car accident, some drunk driver- both of them died."

"god, i'm so sorry jake." jake grabs onto your hand tigher, looking at you with a solemn smile.

"it's okay, really. i'm glad you know now, i like telling you things, even if they are shitty like this."

you two fall into silence again, your room becoming peaceful again. you can hear the winter wind pick up outside as the late afternoon glow fades from your room. You try to think about jake as much as you can before sleep seeps into you, taking over you and jake as your calm breaths mix together and your hands hold you together.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

jake wakes up beside you with a quick jolt. he hasn't woken up like this in a few weeks now. he can feel his heartbeat start to pick up, and his breaths become uneven. he wants to reach out to you and wake you up, tell you that he's panicking, but he doesn't- he can't.

he can't tell you that he's panicking because of you. his emotions are becoming too much for him that he can't be here anymore. he somehow barely manages to get off of your bed without waking you and slip out your front door.

he doesn't know what time it is, but he figures it's late with how quiet the busan neighbourhood is. there's a fresh layer of snow on the ground, and he can see his rigid breath in front of him in the air. his jacket his zipped up to his chin as he started to walk. he doesn't know exactly where he is walking until he's standing in front of lee heeseung's door and knocking.

heeseung opens the door with a tired-looking expression on his face- as if he had just woken up. his faded pink hair is standing up a bit as he looks at obviously panicked jake in front of him.

"dude, what's wrong?"

"can i come in?"

heeseung opens the door wider instantly, letting his friend in from the cold, winter night.

heeseung sits jake down in his bedroom. jake had been to heeseung's house multiple times before. he looked up to heeseung in a way he's never looked up to anyone before. he was the captain of the majority of the sports teams at their school, he's someone everyone can rely on, and jake's grateful he had someone like that at one point.

jake's sitting at heeseung's desk as heeseung is leaning against the wall on his bed. jake's looking around heeseung's room; it's been a while since he's been in heeseung's room. it looks different and cleaner, and there are pictures missing from the walls and books missing from the shelves. he notices the boxes packed on top of each other in one corner.

"i'm packing for college, i know we have some months left, but i want to get it out of the way," heeseung speaks quietly, noticing the way jake's staring at the brown boxes. jake can only nod at his friends' words, too much on his mind to try to make conversation. "so, are you gonna tell me why you showed up at my house at 11pm or are we just gonna keep sitting in silence?"

jake almost laughs at heeseung, the way he usually does, but he can't seem to make any noise or movement come out, "i've been talking to this girl."

"y/l/n y/n." jake jolts at how your name comes out of heeseung's mouth so instinctively. "what? everyone knows you're close with her now."

"right," jake nodded, remembering isa's standoff with you, chaerin and jay a month ago. "well, i fingered her."

heeseung scoffs and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to not laugh at the way his friend is obviously not thinking straight at the moment, "okay, and?"

"and then i told her my mom's dead.'"

"did you tell her that you're mom's dead before or after she came?"

"after." jake stated, "god, obviously after."

heeseung put his hands up in defence. "so then what?"

jake paused and thought about it for a moment, "and then i woke up not being able to breathe, and that's happened a few times before, but it's never happened because of y/n, and now i'm here because i didn't want to go home because then i'd think of my mom and i couldn't stay at y/n's because then i'd think of y/n." jake rambled on, heeseung only nodding along as he let his friend rant to him.

it was silent between the two teenage boys, heeseung trying to think of a way to help his friend while jake was thinking of you. heeseung and jake had been friends since year 9, both loving sports. it was obvious then that they had a lot in common when it came to almost everything, and it was obvious now how much they had slowly started to lose everything they had in common.

heeseung still loved playing sports and hoped to go professional once they graduated in a few months. everyone knew jake didn't want to do that- jake hated sports now and only continued on this year because he felt like he had to.

still, they had so many memories together that they remained friends, and heeseung wanted to help his friend at the very moment.

"so what's wrong with y/n that you panicked about her?"

"Nothing!" jake rushed out, clearing his throat before calmly continuing, "there's nothing wrong with her. i just- i don't- god hee! i don't know!" jake put his head in his hands. heeseung moved across his bed so that he was sitting closer to jake now.

"so, is there something just physical with you and her or is there, like, emotional stuff, too?" heeseung asked, trying to figure out why jake was being like this.

"it's, emotional. more emotional than physical- wait no! i guess there's an equal amount of them, but still i'd rather listen to her favourite songs with her and read to her and make her laugh than shove my dick down her throat. but i wanna do that with her too! but i'd take listening to her talk about her favourite songs than a blowjob. i think." jake rambled on again, heeseung really trying to focus and help rather than laugh his ass off at his friend's rambling.

"so," heeseung starts, trying to process jake's words and his response, "you... love her?"

"what?" jake gasps, looking up from the floor at his friend.

"shh," heeseung slaps jake's shoulder, "you're gonna wake up my parents. Be quiet!"

jake brushed his hair away from his face, "i- i don't know if i love her."

heeseung almost laughs at his friend again, "did you hear what you just said about her?"

jake thought about his rambled confession he just told heeseung, thinking about how he had described you.

"you love her, jake." heeseung repeated, noticing the look of realization slowly creep onto jake's face. "and you're panicking because you've never loved someone before; it's obvious, man."

"holy shit," jake sat back in his chair as he processes his feelings.

heeseung sighed out of relief, laying back onto his elbows on his bed, "great! now go tell her that! tell her everything you just told me!' heeseung pointed to his bedroom door, "well, maybe leave out the blowjob part- and the shoving your dick down her throat part."

"i can't go back!" jake yelled before getting slapped by heeseung again to be quiet.

"and why not?"

"because- because, i don't know! what if she doesn't love me?"

"well, then i guess you'll come running back here, so i'll keep my front door unlocked for you." jake turned and looked at his friend, that had a smug look on his face, "go!"

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

you had woken up maybe ten minutes after jake had left. you woke up to a cold bed, and an empty feeling started to grow in your chest. you sat up in your bed when you realized he wasn't in your room or your quiet house. the snow was picking up and covering your window, blocking the moonlight from entering your bedroom.

you brought your knees to your chest, playing with the bottoms of your sweatpants by your ankles. you weren't necessarily surprised that jake had left. he had sleeping problems of his own, and plus, you were used to everyone in your life leaving you.

it felt like he was just another one of those people again. of course, jake and you had gone through three weeks of not speaking before- but this time really hurt. at this point, you were aware of your feelings for jake. they weren't covered up in a friendship like the first time he had left you.

your feelings were clear to you- and maybe not (definitely not) to jake.

you sat your elbows up on your window sill, lighting a cigarette, trying to relax from the anxiety creeping up into your chest. you exhaled the smoke as you tried to find the perfect print of a snowflake on your window. you thought then that you would be spending christmas alone now after all.

it soon felt like you were going into a haze of sleep deprivation, anxiety and nicotine. the coldness seeping through your window is the only thing to comfort you and your mind into reality. you closed your eyes for a moment, resting your head on the window sill as the cigarette in your hand burnt out.

your thoughts were filled with jake and you. your imagined future crumbling down. your past together meant nothing to him as you thought about all the times you had shared your headphones, listened to him read and made each other laugh.

you seem to be reliving your past mentally, and you're stuck in it, trying to remember it all because, for a moment, it felt like that was the only thing you were going to have left with sim jake. your bedroom gets darker as the late night passes, the smell of smoke fading out from your room. and then you are woken up from the long dream you were living in for a moment, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek.

"y/n?"

it's his voice. it feels like you're still dreaming with the way it sounds. like you're memories, and sleep deprivation are playing a trick on you.

"y/n are you awake? i'm fucking cold."

and then he's silent again, the snow and wind outside being the only sound. his voice is coming from your bedroom door behind you.

when you speak again, your voice is softer than you remember.

"jake?" he doesn't answer. "jake, are you..."

"what're you doing?" his voice becomes clearer, and it becomes evident that he's right behind you and you aren't having some sick dream.

"say my name again, please?"

jake's quiet for a moment as he stares at your slumped-over body on your window sill, and then he carefully whispers to you, like he doesn't want to wake you after you have just fallen asleep,

"y/n."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - - -- -- -- -- --

jake crawled into bed with you afterwards, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you down onto the bed with him carefully like you were going to break.

"where were you?" you ask, facing away from him as you let your body sink into his from behind you.

"i went to heeseung's for a second, i'm sorry. he kissed the back of your head, "i'm sorry i didn't mean to upset you." he kissed your head again, his arms tightening around you as if he was scared you were going to run away from him.

"i thought-" you tried to control your breathing, wiping away the tears falling down your face quietly, "i thought you had left me again- thought you weren't going to see me again."

"no no," jake shushed you, putting his head on your shoulder from behind, "i'm sorry, baby, i won't leave you again. i mean it."

"really?" you manage to ask out, your breathing coming back to a normal pace when you realize everything is okay still.

"yeah," jake states before pausing, "i love you."

and the words ring out into your quiet bedroom and ring around the walls until you're turning to look at him over your shoulder. he looks frightened but sure of himself at the same time. you can hear him harshly swallow as he looks at you, trying to figure out what you're thinking.

"you love me?"

"yes." jake quickly answers you, "a lot. and everything about you. and i've never loved someone before, but i know i love you. i don't want to be without you in this life- and i mean that." his grasp on you loosens as you turn to face him.

"i love you."

jake grabs your face, pulling your lips to his for the tenth time that day. both of you feel like you could never get tired of just kissing each other like this.

"fuck, i love you." jake grumbles out against your lips before kissing your again passionately.

"i've loved you for a long time, i don't think i've noticed until recently." you confess, pulling away from him. "i've never loved anyone before either, but i know i'll love you forever if you let me."

jake smiles at you, pulling you into kissing him once more. your hips instinctively grind into his, unable to stop the way he's making you feel at the moment. you've never felt so loved before by a single kiss.

your kiss turns into a loving and lustful one quickly. your hands running through his shaggy, brown hair that you've come to love.

"you don't know what you do to me, baby." jake mutters, his hand leaving your jaw and roaming down your side to rest on your hip.

you chuckle as your hands slide in between you two, going under his shirt and lifting it over his body. your eyes travel over his skin, loving how it looks and feels. so many pretty moles to memorize as you kiss his collarbones.

you roll over so that you are on top of him now. jake pulled you closer and started leaving wet kisses over the hickeys he had given you earlier. you couldn't stop the low moans leaving your lips as you started to grind down onto his bulge.

you both felt rushed but knew you had all the time in the world at that very moment. your hands started to travel down his stomach to where his sweatpants were loosened on his hips. he smiled against your skin.

jake's hands travelled underneath your hoodie, pulling it off to reveal your breasts. his hands instantly cupped them, tweaking your nipples as you arched your back into him.

"are you wet again for me, baby?" jake asks with a smirk. one of his hands slipped into your panties like he did earlier, this time more confidently as he knew your body enough already.

you bucked your hips in pleasure as he started to thumb quickly at your clit again. your body is still sensitive from earlier.

"j-jake." you whimpered out to him, arching your back.

you whined when he slipped his hands out of your panties.

"i want you to come on my dick this time, baby." jake explains to you, kissing you before flipping you over so that you are on your back. jake slides your sweatpants and panties off, and you hear his gasp as his eyes meet your fully bare body. he's almost unable to stop staring at you before you remind him to take off his pants.

you wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his hard cock start brushing against your wet entrance. you instantly let out a moan as he enters you. jake feels his eyes roll back at the feeling of your bare walls on his cock. he pushes deep inside of you, making both of you have laboured breathing already.

"you feel so good, jake."

"yeah, feels like i was fuckin' made for you." jake starts to thrust into you with a steady pace. his eyes never left you, wanting to see how you reacted to him fucking you.

"fuck!" you gasped once he hit a certain spot, your voice going into a higher pitch. you grasped onto his arm when jake started to fuck into your faster, hitting your newly found sweet spot every time.

you looked so pretty wrapped around his cock that he didn't know how much longer he could go with you tightening so well around him. he's thought about this for so long- he just wants to be as close to you as possible.

"jake." you moaned out his name. you clenched around him as his thumb started to circle your clit again. he started to thrust deeper and faster at the same time, allowing you to feel every inch of his cock.

"are you gonna cum for me, y/n?" jake moans out your name as well.

"y-yes! god, jake." you intertwined your hands with his, coming on his hard dick with a loud moan. jake couldn't hold back as he felt you soak his dick- his own cum releasing into you at the same time.

"f-fuck." jake groaned out into your skin.

both of your hairs' were messy as jake pulled out of you, watching the way his cum dripped out of you, leaking onto your bed.

he ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, a smile on his lips as he looked at your fucked out expression. "fuck, baby, you're so good. so pretty, too." his hand was still holding onto yours as you both looked down at your ruined legs.

"you're cleaning it up," you spoke out, your head falling back down onto your pillow- sleeping wanting to fill your body for the first time in months from pure exhaustion.

"of course, baby." jake smiled as he kissed your forehead, letting go of your hand to go to the bathroom to get a warm towel for you.

you felt jake clean you up and wipe your sheets before laying down beside you again, pulling your blanket up and over you before lacing your hands together- falling asleep in perfect contentment- knowing that when you both wake you'll be happy.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

jake asked you to be his girlfriend a day later on christmas, not wanting you to feel alone on christmas ever again. he was right when he said his family loves you; they happily accepted you in with them on christmas day.

you seemingly fit in with not only his family but his rugby team members as well. officially meeting thee lee heeseung when you returned to school after winter vacation. they all seemed to love you- just like jake (and jay!) had said they would.

you and jake continued to spend your days alone in either his bedroom's, constantly finding new music to listen to together- creating new memories with all the songs. somedays, jake would make you tag along to a party with him, smoking out the window as he got shit-faced with his friends- happily knowing that you would walk him home and tuck him into bed with you afterwards.

you had always heard stories about not becoming friends with seniors when you were younger than them- and you quickly found out why you shouldn't when the last weeks of high school were approaching.

it was sad helping jake pack up all his things for college- he, like the rest of your friends, had gotten accepted to a college in seoul. you were happy for him! happier for him than he was happy for himself. he didn't want to go to college for kinesology, but he felt like that was the only thing going for him. he especially didn't want to go and leave you behind in busan.

on the day that he, jay, chaerin, sunghoon and heeseung had all planed to drive together to seoul, you presented jake with a gift.

it was a cd you had burned all your favourite songs on. because i couldn't tell you what my favourite one was, here's all of them :) - y/n

"fuck." jake said as he looked down at the cd, a warm but hurtful feeling playing along his chest before wrapping you up into a hug, "i'm gonna fucking miss you, baby."

"i'm gonna miss you."

"we're gonna call and text all the time! and i'll see you on christmas break!" jake reminded you and himself, pulling you into a passionate kiss before sunghoon honked the horn of their van to tell jake to hurry up.

"get in the car or be ditched forever!" sunghoon yelled out the window, "some of us haven't had our first love yet and want to get on the road to meet their first love!"

you laugh into jake's lips as you pull away from each other.

"i love you." jake says sadly, scanning your face quickly as if he's gonna forget it as soon as he turns around.

"i love you."

sunghoon honked the horn again, "come on!"

jake and you let go of each other's hands sadly, watching as jake got in the car, waving goodbye to them all as they drove off down the street- leaving you alone in god forbidden busan.

and you've always hated busan.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

your insomnia got worse than ever before when jake left. it was something you couldn't deal with anymore. you had to stop going to school in fear of hurting yourself accidentally by the lack of sleep you were having.

you had started tossing and turning in your twenty-minute sleep so much that you were waking up with bruises all over your legs and arms. you continuously had nightmares about jake- and how he's going to leave you.

the long-distance relationship worked between you and jake for the first few months. you celebrated your one-year anniversary together on christmas- buying each other matching headphones.

you continuously told each other that you loved each other- everyday over text. even if you hadn't spoken during the day, you could always count on him for texting you those three words.

you think now that, over time, you had lost the meaning of those three words with jake. you used them so much that both of you didn't even realize when you stopped loving each other.

you think you noticed it first on valentine's day after your one year anniversary. when it took jake all day to call you and say he loves you. jake got busy with school- and he got depressed about school. he told you a little bit about how he was feeling a first- how he hated the classes but needed this degree so he could get some sort of job.

after a while, it felt like neither of you knew anything about what was happening in the other's lives. you only knew the shell of the people you use to be and knew that you should say 'i love you' to each other.

your breakup happened not long after valentine's day- when he had forgotten your birthday. it had been a week or two since you had even spoken on the phone with each other- forgetting each other's voices at that point.

it felt like your heart was being ripped in half when the clock hit midnight for the next day to begin, your birthday finishes and not a single call or text from jake had appeared.

you waited three days for a frantic spree of texts to be sent, saying how he's sorry and that he loves you, he's sending you a present right now and so on.

you didn't respond to any of them.

he called and called for a week, finally giving up when you hadn't answered after the 100th time.

jake ❤️ : i'll get you out of busan y/n, i swear i'm sorry. i love you

you didn't answer that text either, and ended up blocking your first love.

when you graduated a few months after your first-ever breakup, you went to seoul for college. soobin helped pack up your things and sent you on your way by train. you could tell that soobin was a bit sad to see you go- but at least he'd have the house to himself for once.

it took three days before you saw someone you recognized on your school's campus; park chaerin.

you hadn't really spoken to her since jake, and you had broken up. over time, she had become more of jake's friend than your own.

"holy shit." chaerin said as she saw you standing in front of her in front of the school's fountain. she looked like she had seen a ghost. "y/n! what the hell are you doing here?" she wrapped you up into a hug; she tried to ignore the eye bags under your eyes and the awful paleness of your skin.

"i got accepted here, so, yeah." you sheepishly responded.

"holy shit." another voice spoke out behind chaerin, jay and heeseung stood there, their jaw almost on the floor when they saw you. they ran and hugged you as well- jay lifting you off the ground before placing you back down.

after a few minutes of catching up, you asked the question everyone knew was coming, "so uh, is jake, around?' you asked them, your hands shaking on your sides and you knew if jake saw you he'd know you were about to pass out from anxiousness.

"uh, no." chaerin spoke carefully, "he dropped out a few weeks ago."

"he said he was going to busan." heeseung added.

"busan? when?"

"three days ago."

"three days ago?!" you yell out, the noise from the fountain not making your voice too loud.

you groaned when you saw them all nod in agreement. you put your hand on your forehead with a sigh of frustration and anger filling your body.

of course, you had to leave cities at the same time.

jake knocked on your door three days before that day, anxiousness filling his body at the thought of seeing you again after seven months. he wondered the whole train ride back to his hometown how you would react when you saw him standing on your front porch. he thought maybe you'd punch him, yell at him, or simply not open the door.

he was not expecting a pissed off soobin to answer the door instead.

"what the fuck do you want?" soobin grunted out to him.

"uh, is y/n here?"

"nope." soobin said curtly, looking at jake as if he was ready to close the door on his face already.

"where is she?"

"seoul."

"seoul?! why?!"

soobin shrugged, "couldn't stand to be in busan anymore."

jake rubbed at his face in shock, not believing his luck.

"is there anything else you want to know?" soobin asked the younger boy. jake only shook his head no, "great."

soobin slammed the door in his face.

the last time you saw sim jake was four years ago. when he kissed you goodbye on new years and told you he'd see you that summer.

he did not see you that summer.

none of you had known where sim jake had gone after he left seoul. you had all figured he went to busan, but none of your friends that had stayed in your hometown had seen him.

you ended up staying in seoul for four years to finish up your music production degree at college. it had taken a lot from you, physically and mentally. your insomnia had gotten better over time, but you had started using your restless nights as a way to be productive and get your shit together instead of smoking your nights away.

during your years at college, you had stopped being friends with anyone you had been friends with in high school. you had all fallen out of touch with each other- none of you realize that the only person that kept you together was jake.

the last time you had seen park chaerin was across the cafeteria during your third year at college. she had grown out of her 'gothic' phase of dressing and makeup style, looking more mature instead. apparently, her and jay had stayed together- they graduated together, but you haven't seen them since then.

lee heeseung dropped out of college during his second year- only six months of his first year. he had a major opportunity to play football in america, so he took it in a heartbeat. he knocked on your dorm the night before and told you the news. he hugged you goodbye and wished you the best as he took a final look at those godforsaken purple bags under your eyes.

when you had finally graduated college- you were done with seoul as well. it felt like you just hated korea altogether- you didn't belong there- everybody and everything was the same.

you took the first job opportunity you got that wasn't in korea- but california. it was for a record label you hadn't heard of, but decided to take a chance on, maybe you could help the label a bit with your producer abilities.

it had been four years and seven months since you had seen sim jake- and you hadn't forgotten a single thing about him. he went through your mind several times a week- even when you knew he shouldn't be when you were in the middle of an exam.

it had been four years and seven months since you had seen your first love- and you were not expecting to see him on your first day at your first job in california.

sim jake still had his pretty smile and brown eyes. his shaggy brown hair was now shorter as it was slightly pushed back from his face.

you really thought you had lost your mind when you saw him- you thought that the sleep deprivation had finally caught up to you over all these years and had made you crack.

jake and you stood in front of each other down the front hall at the production company, staring in shock as you looked at one another.

"y/n?" jake asked you first, not believing himself as he said your name.

you nodded your head at him, "say my name again, please." needing to hear it again to know you weren't dreaming.

"y/n." a smile spread across your face at the sound of the familiar voice.

"you guys know each other?" the young assistant asked you both as she stood in front of you, ready to take you on a tour through the building.

"yeah." you both respond at the same time.

"oh, that's good then since you'll be working together a lot." she stated, causing you to give her a confused look, "he's the singer you'll be producing music for."

and now you're sat outside the recording booth, listening to your first love sing about you into the microphone- producing your first hit song that would only be the start of both of your careers.

a smile on your face knowing that you'll be able to sleep tonight since he'll be beside you, holding your hand.

@ taeghi, 2022. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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