.⋆｡♱\𝕾𝖈𝟒𝐫𝖑𝟑𝖙𝖙/꩜｡⋆.

ALBEDO

You spend a lot of time in Albedo's lab. You're not entirely sure when it started becoming routine, but somewhere between him seeking your presence and you deciding to stay longer than necessary, it just... happened. You'd sit in the corner with a book or just watch him work, the way he moves through his experiments with methodical precision. 

Today, though, you're in the Favonius library instead. Albedo needed to research something specific, and you went along with him without question. You're sitting at one of the tables while he browses the shelves, pulling down various tomes with focused precision.

Lisa is at the front desk when Albedo brings his stack of books to check them out. You're waiting nearby, and she glances between the two of you with that knowing smile of hers.

"My, my, someone's been spending a lot of time with our dear Chief Alchemist," she says to you, her voice sweet as honey. She's already flipping through the first book. "Taking quite the interest in his work, are we?"

"Just curious," you say, suddenly very aware of how close Albedo is standing.

"Mm, how thoughtful of you." She continues scanning, her eyes flickering up to Albedo for just a moment. "Your lover must appreciate having someone so interested in what he does."

She says it so casually, so mixed in with the mundane task of checking out books, that it takes a moment for the words to actually register. By the time they do, she's already moving on to the next book, completely unbothered.

Albedo pauses. You notice it immediately—his hand stills on the counter, and there's a moment where he seems to be processing something. His gaze drifts to the side, not quite looking at Lisa, not quite looking at you. He's just... considering. Turning the words over in his mind the way he does with everything else. 

Then, just as quietly as the pause came, he seems to release it. He doesn't correct her. Doesn't say anything at all. Just sets down the remaining books on the counter in that careful way of his.

“Oh, uhm,” You begin, looking over at Albedo. “We, uh, aren’t together.”

Lisa glances up, catches something in his expression, and her smile widens slightly. But she says nothing more.

Later, when you're back at the library and Albedo is focused on his research, you find yourself thinking about what Lisa said.

"Do you think I'm a distraction?" you ask casually, not looking up from your book.

Albedo doesn't pause in his work. "No." The answer is immediate. Certain. You turn a page.

"Lisa thinks we're together," you say.

He sets down the vial he held with careful precision. Turns to look at you fully, and for a long moment, he doesn't say anything. His soft, analytical gaze is fixed on you, and the silence stretches out—long enough that you start to feel uncomfortable, long enough that you begin to wonder if you've said something wrong.

And then, as though he had reached a conclusion so simple and obvious, "Would that be so strange?"

You realise you don't have an answer for that. And more importantly, that perhaps, no, it would not be so strange after all. 

AYATO

The Kamisato clan commissioner rarely ventured into the markets. Usually, he would have sent either Thoma or one of his other myriad helpers to fetch whatever it was he or Ayaka needed. But, today, perhaps as a change of environment—away from the towering paperwork he had to fill—Ayato decided to accompany you in your shopping. He always had a peculiar habit of trailing behind you, even when it was unnecessary. You had gotten used to his presence in your life. A shadow. An extremely coy and teasing shadow, that is. 

Besides, perhaps the presence of the commissioner would snag you a couple of good deals while out and about. 

You curled a bolt of silk green fabric around your wrist. Pretty, smooth. Ayato peeked over your shoulder, scrutinising the item in so much more detail than you were at all. 

You turned back to look at him and huffed, a sound of amusement, “What, is it not to your liking, Ayato?”

“Well,” he seemed to draw out, catching your eyes. “I hardly think it’s your shade.”

Not your shade? Just as a retort bubbled up in your throat, you were interrupted by the sound of the vendor. “Ah, commissioner!” He said. “Interested in imported silks, are you?”

The man seemed to be pulling out more cloth, shades of different colours—silver, lavender, pink, blue. His hands moved with practiced efficiency as he laid out the fabrics over the counter. He seemed to be going on and on about where each piece was imported from—this one from Liyue, the other a local craftsman from Inazuma, the other cultivated in the meadows of Mondstadt. 

But then he picked out a specific piece and looked over to Ayato. “I’m sure your lover would look stunning in the deeper blues,” he said. “Does the lady have a preference, or should we let the commissioner decide?”

You tensed. 

Lover? And the man had said it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You felt your cheeks warm and suddenly you seemed to become all too aware of the little distance between you and Ayato. As though hypersensory, you could feel the way Ayato’s hands stilled, resting for a moment at your hip. You looked over at him. 

And yet, there was no change in his expression. If anything, the small smile he had on his face had stretched a fractional amount. His head tilted to the side. 

“I think she would look rather beautiful,” Ayato said. Simple and casual, his eyes snagging on you for half a second. It was like he hadn’t even heard the former part of the sentence. Or, scratch that, like he hadn’t heard anything the vendor had just said. 

The vendor was simply ecstatic to have sold something to the commissioner, and—apparently—his “lover,” and had left to wrap the item. 

You paused for a second, before turning to the man next to you. “What was that?” 

Ayato hummed non-commitally as he looked at you. “What was what?” He feigned ignorance, that smug idiot. He never missed a single thing. Once you had changed the scent of your perfume from Sakura Bloom to Naku Weed, and he had caught it the moment you stepped into his office; there was no way he hadn’t heard that. 

“He just called me your lover!” You pressed. 

Ayato just tilted his head, his fingers tapping against the wooden counter. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t correct him.”

“No.”

The heat in your face seemed to rise in temperature. Just what exactly was he playing at? Why was he staring at you like this was the most normal thing ever? Was he not bothered? And the way the merchant had said it, too, it was like everyone in the entirety of Inazuma knew about this except for you!

“Why not?” You asked, growing more shifty by the second. 

Ayato let out a laugh, a sweet, melodic little sound, “You didn't seem eager to correct him yourself.”

You opened your mouth to argue, and then closed it again. “W-Well, I was just about—but then, I…” Any and all justification that rose in your throat withered away. Especially when Ayato was staring at you like that. Like he was challenging you to question that assumption, daring you to change it. 

That day, the two of you walked away having bought an expensive indigo fabric. Matching the Kamisato insignia.

CHILDE

The training grounds were empty except for the two of you. You'd been sparring with Childe for the better part of an hour, and he was still grinning like he was having the time of his life—which, knowing him, he probably was.

"Your footwork's off," he called out, circling you with that predatory grace he had when he was actually engaged. "You're telegraphing your next move."

"Maybe I want you to know what I'm doing," you shot back, lunging. He sidestepped easily, but you'd anticipated that, spinning to catch him off-guard with a follow-up strike. He blocked it, and the impact sent a jolt up your arm. "Or maybe you're just slow today."

"Slow?" He laughed, and there was an edge to it now—the kind that meant he'd stopped holding back. He came at you with a series of quick strikes, testing your reflexes, and you matched him, parry for parry. 

Your muscles were already burning from the previous rounds, but you pushed anyway because he'd give you that look of approval when you did, that slight nod like you'd passed some invisible test. "You're the one who's slowing down. Your last five moves have been predictable."

"Only because you're boring me," you said, breathing harder now. You twisted away from his next strike, used his momentum against him, and nearly got him off-balance. Nearly. He recovered with infuriating ease, but you caught the flash of something in his expression—genuine interest now, not just amusement.

The sparring continued, and at one point, you overextended on a strike. His hand came out to steady you, gripping your arm just above the elbow. It was meant to be instructional—a correction of your form—but he held it for a moment, his thumb brushing against your skin before he released you. Neither of you acknowledged it. He just stepped back and said, "Again. Better this time."

You came at him again, and somewhere in the middle of it, there was a moment where he caught your wrist mid-strike. His hand was warm, his grip firm but not painful. He could have thrown you. Instead, he held it for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and you were close enough to see the slight raise in his eyebrow—a challenge. You twisted your arm, trying to break free, and he let you go with a grin.

"Getting better," he said.

"I've always been good. You're just finally noticing," you replied, and charged at him again.

By the time you both called it, you were both breathing hard. Sweat dripped down your temple, and your arms felt like lead. Childe was still smiling though, that infuriating, easy smile of his that suggested he could do this all day. He grabbed his water bottle, tossed you one, and you caught it easily. The cold water was a relief as you drank, trying to catch your breath.

You were leaning against the nearby pillar, still catching your breath, when you heard voices approaching. Not close yet, but getting closer. You recognized one of them immediately—Paimon's high-pitched chatter, and underneath it, Lumine's quieter responses. You didn't think much of it. They were probably just passing through the training grounds on their way somewhere else.

Childe was standing a few feet away from you, already looking refreshed despite the exertion. He had that energy about him, the kind that didn't seem to deplete no matter how hard he pushed himself. He caught you looking at him and raised an eyebrow.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked, already moving toward you.

"Just wondering how you're not completely dead," you said. "Normal people need recovery time."

"I'm not normal people." He stopped beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. Without any real thought to it, he reached over and fixed a strand of your hair that had come loose during the sparring, tucking it back behind your ear. It was such a casual gesture, the kind of thing he did without thinking. Your breath caught slightly, but he was already pulling his hand back, already grinning at you like he hadn't just done something that made your heart rate pick up for reasons that had nothing to do with the exercise.

"Definitely not normal," you muttered, looking away.

"Hey, Childe! Lumine and I were just—oh!"

You looked up to see Paimon floating toward you both, her expression shifting to something almost knowing as she took in the sight of you two standing close together, both flushed and breathing hard. Lumine followed behind her, her eyes flickering between you and Childe with that quiet observation of hers.

"We were just heading to the Adventurers' Guild," Paimon continued, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But wow, looks like you two have been going at it pretty hard. I'm just glad Childe's finally found his special someone! But sheesh, do you have to go that hard on her?"

There was a beat. You opened your mouth to correct her, to clarify whatever assumption she'd just made, but Childe moved first. His arm came around you without hesitation, pulling you against his side in one smooth motion. It was the kind of casual contact you two shared all the time, except it wasn't casual now. Not the way he was looking at Paimon, not the way his hand rested at your hip like it belonged there.

"Yeah, well," he said, his voice easy and warm, "took me long enough to find someone worth the effort."

Lumine's lips curved into the faintest smile. "That's one way to put it," she said, and there was definitely something knowing in her tone.

You felt your face flush. You pushed against his chest, your hand flat against the fabric of his shirt.

"You're insane," you said, but you were already laughing despite yourself, despite the way your heart was doing backflips.

Paimon giggled, seeming satisfied with whatever she thought she'd figured out, and Lumine gave you both a small wave before they continued on their way. You watched them go, still half-pressed against Childe's side, and the moment they were out of earshot, you pushed away from him properly.

"You want to enlighten me on what you were implying there?" you asked, turning to face him.

Childe's grin was still there, but something underneath it had shifted. He wasn't quite looking at you directly, was instead focused on something past your shoulder, his expression caught between amusement and something you couldn't quite read.

"Was I implying something?" he said, but there was no real teasing in it now.

"You just told them we're together."

He finally looked at you then, and his expression was softer than you'd expected. Still smiling, but there was something real behind it—something that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the sparring.

"And?" he said softly. "I wasn't lying though, was I?"

KAEYA

You'd been coming to the tavern with Kaeya for weeks now. It started innocuously enough—he'd asked if you wanted a drink after a particularly grueling shift, and you'd said yes mostly because you were too tired to say no. Somewhere along the way, it became routine. Every few nights you'd find yourself at the counter with him, and he'd order for you without asking. He always got it right, which was irritating in its own way.

Tonight was like any other night. You were sitting at your usual spot, the one that had somehow become your spot, when someone approached. One of the regulars—a member of the Adventurer’s Guild—someone you'd seen around enough times to recognize but not enough to know by name.

"Kaeya," the man slurred, leaning against the bar. "Your girlfriend's looking particularly radiant tonight."

You felt your spine stiffen slightly. Girlfriend. The word hung there for a moment, waiting to be corrected. 

You looked over at Kaeya, waiting for him to say something, to clarify, to do whatever it was he normally did when people made assumptions. But he just smiled. That easy, lazy smile of his. 

"Isn't she always?" he said, and the man laughed like it was the most charming thing he'd ever heard, and walked away.

You stared at your drink. The ice was melting slowly, diluting the amber liquid into something weaker.

"You could've corrected him," you said, looking over at him with barely concealed flustered confusion.

"Could have," Kaeya agreed. He wasn't looking at you, was instead focused on something across the bar with that detached amusement he wore like a second skin. "Didn't seem worth the effort."

You let it go. It was small enough, harmless enough. Kaeya was always like this—playing into characters, scenarios, whatever amused him in the moment. And besides, this was the tavern. People were drunk, made assumptions, barely thought twice about anything. Everything Kaeya said carried that thin veneer of humor, that deliberate lightness that suggested nothing he did was ever meant to be taken seriously. This must have been yet another attempt at his particular brand of entertainment, or maybe an effort to fluster you. Which you weren't falling for. Obviously.

But a few days later, he suggested dinner at Good Hunter's. You'd gone, mostly because you were hungry and he was there. Sara smiled when she saw you two sit down underneath the parasol. 

“Maybe the both of you would like a seat that’s more private instead?” She had suggested. Your face erupted into flames when she suggested that. And although you tried to correct it, Kaeya had already confirmed, and you found yourself in a shaded area to the side. The kind of area that everyone implicitly agreed was for honeymooning couples. 

You sat across from him, irritated, and tried to focus on your food. Kaeya, for his part, seemed entirely unbothered. He ate with deliberate slowness, and at one point he leaned across the table, his eye catching yours with a particular brand of teasing softness.

"You're scowling," he said, like it was an observation about the weather.

"I'm not scowling."

"You are." He reached over and tapped your forehead with one finger. "Right here."

You pulled back, but he'd already retreated, that infuriating smile still in place.

By the time you were walking back through the city, your irritation had crystallized into something sharper. Something that demanded to be addressed.

"What are you doing?" you asked, stopping abruptly in the middle of the street.

"Walking," Kaeya said simply. "Same as you."

"Don't be difficult. Everyone keeps thinking we're together and you're not correcting them. You're actually—" you gestured vaguely at the space between you, "—playing into it."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed, that low, warm sound that always seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his chest. When he looked at you, there was something in his expression you couldn't quite place. Something that felt almost like he'd been waiting for you to notice.

"I think you like it more than you're willing to admit," he said softly. His eye was half-lidded, that familiar amusement still there, but underneath it was something else. Something that made your chest feel tight.  "The question is whether I should keep pretending not to notice."

He was already walking ahead, already moving past you with that lazy stride of his, and you were left standing there, flushed and furious and unable to quite articulate why his assumption felt less like teasing and more like he'd read something in you that you weren't ready to show him.

Damn Kaeya.

LOHEN

The training grounds were filled with apprentice knights, all watching intently as you explained the formation they'd be running through. Lohen stood beside you, arms crossed, and you could already feel the restlessness radiating off him like heat.

"This is boring," he said, not bothering to lower his voice. "Just let them fight something real."

"They need to understand positioning first," you replied firmly, not even looking at him. "We're not sending them into the field unprepared."

"Unprepared is half the fun," he said, and you heard the grin in his voice.

You turned to face him. "You know what? Not everyone gets a thrill from almost dying."

"Their loss," he said, and there was something playful in his eyes, something that suggested he enjoyed getting a rise out of you. One of the younger apprentices nudged their friend, both of them watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement.

"This is why we have strategy," you continued, turning back to the group. "Lohen charges in and—"

"And it works," he interjected.

"And you get lucky," you corrected.

He laughed, "Lucky. Right. That's what we're calling it."

The training started smoothly enough. The apprentices moved through the formations you'd drilled into them, and you were positioned to observe and correct. Lohen was supposed to be doing the same, but his attention kept drifting, his foot tapping with barely contained energy. You could see him watching the apprentices with the kind of hunger that meant he was already bored. At one point, you caught him staring at you instead of the recruits, and when you raised an eyebrow in question, he just grinned wider.

After about an hour, one of the younger recruits approached as you and Lohen were standing together reviewing the performance. The recruit was still catching their breath, clearly impressed by how well the formation had held.

"It's lucky that the two of you are paired together," they said, glancing between you both. There was genuine respect in their voice. "Aren't the two of you together?"

The moment those words left the apprentice’s mouth, you could see something wicked shine in Lohen’s eyes. You opened your mouth to clarify, but Lohen moved before you could. He crossed the distance between you in a few strides and pulled you against his side, his arm wrapping around your waist like it had always belonged there. Your face went hot immediately, but he was looking at you with that chaotic grin of his, like he'd just been handed the best entertainment of his day.

"And she's the only person who could ever keep up with me," he said, loud and theatrical, and you could tell he was leaning into it now, performing for the apprentices. You felt your cheeks burn as you realized what he was doing, deliberately making a show of it, spinning this into something bigger just to see you get flustered. The manic energy was at full throttle, and he was clearly enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

Your face went hotter. One of the apprentices bit their lip to keep from smiling, while another looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the display. But most of them were watching with interest, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Lohen—" you started, trying to extract yourself, but he didn't let go. His grip on your waist was firm, not painful, just insistent.

"And she's brilliant," he continued, spinning you slightly so he could look at you properly. His hand was still on your back, and he was looking at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Everything I'm not. Everything that keeps me from getting killed in a ditch somewhere." There was something underneath the chaos when he said it, something that suggested he meant it more than he was letting on.  A few of the recruits exchanged glances, and one of them smiled knowingly.

"You'd be lost without her," one of the bolder apprentices called out, earning a few quiet laughs from the others.

"Completely lost," Lohen agreed, but there was something in the way he said it that wasn't entirely joking. For just a moment, the manic energy seemed to settle, and he looked at you like you were the only thing in the training grounds that mattered. "Actually, yeah. I would be."

Then he released you, and the chaos returned. He was already moving away, already tossing some comments to the apprentices about formation angles, leaving you standing there flustered and hyperaware of every eye on you.

The rest of the training passed in a blur of corrections and positioning. By the time you finally dismissed the apprentices, your face had only just stopped burning. Lohen was already collecting his things, and you found yourself watching him move with that restless energy of his, wondering what he'd actually meant in that moment when everything had seemed to pause.

THOMA

You were sitting in one of the Kamisato estate's quieter rooms, mending a tear in one of the ceremonial clothes when Thoma appeared with tea. He set it down beside you without asking and settled into the seat across from you.

"That's going to take forever," he said, watching you work the needle through the delicate fabric.

"Only if I rush," you replied, concentrating on your stitching. "You taught me that."

He smiled at that, leaning back and watching you work. It was comfortable, the kind of silence that didn't need filling. You'd been coming to this room more often lately, always finding some reason to be here. Mending. Reading. Just sitting. And somehow Thoma always seemed to find his way in.

After a while, he got up and moved to sit beside you instead. He didn't ask permission. He just shifted closer until his shoulder nearly touched yours. He picked up a different piece that needed mending and started working on it without preamble.

"You're still doing that stitch wrong," he said after a while, no judgment in his voice.

"I know," you said, not bothering to correct yourself. "But you always fix it for me anyway."

He smiled, and you swore you could see the pupils of his green eyes dilate a fractional amount. His hand came over yours, guiding the needle through the proper motion. His fingers were warm, and he moved slowly, making sure you understood. When he pulled back, you found yourself missing the contact.

You worked like that for a long time. Sometimes he'd hum something soft under his breath. Sometimes you'd ask him about his day, and he'd answer while still focused on the mending. At one point, you reached for more thread at the same moment he did, and your hands brushed. Neither of you moved away.  You both just continued working, shoulders close, existing together in the quiet of the afternoon.

"You're thinking too hard," he said once, glancing at your face.

"How can you tell?"

"You get this little crease," he said, reaching over and smoothing it away with his thumb. It was such a gentle gesture that you forgot to breathe for a moment.

You were so focused on the mending that you didn't notice when Ayaka appeared in the doorway. She had a few attendants with her, but she stopped when she saw the two of you sitting close together, heads bent over the work, your shoulders nearly touching.

"Oh, there you two are," she said warmly. "I've been meaning to mention something." Thoma looked up, and you followed his gaze.

"There's a couples' festival coming up at the end of the month," Ayaka continued, her tone genuinely kind. 

"I thought perhaps you two might enjoy attending together. It would be nice for you to have some time away from the estate."

You felt your face warm. Thoma's reaction was immediate. His entire face flushed a deep red, from his neck all the way to his ears. He set down the cloth quickly, maybe too quickly, like he needed something to do with his hands.

"Oh, we're—" he started, his voice slightly strained. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he was trying for his usual politeness, but the fluster was unmistakable. "We're not actually together, Lady Ayaka. We just spend a lot of time together because of work, that's all."

The correction was gentle, the way everything Thoma did was gentle. But there was something in the way his hands gripped the cloth a little too tightly, the way he wouldn't quite meet Ayaka's eyes, that made your chest tighten. One of the attendants looked faintly disappointed.

Ayaka's expression softened with understanding, and she nodded. "I see. My apologies for the misunderstanding." She excused herself politely, and the moment she left, the room felt smaller somehow.

You picked up your mending again, but your hands felt clumsy. Thoma did the same, but neither of you were really focused on the work anymore. The ease you'd had before was gone, replaced by something tense and uncertain. The afternoon light filtered through the screens, and the silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid.

When the sun started to set and you finally set down your work, Thoma was already moving. You said something soft to break the tension, just to ease it.

"That was kind of awkward," you said quietly, not quite looking at him.

He paused, his hand lingering on the cloth. You could see him turn it over in his mind, searching for something.

"I didn't mean to be rude," he said, finally meeting your eyes. "She was just... it caught me off guard."

"I know," you said, offering him a small smile. "It's fine. These things happen."

He looked at you for a long moment, and there was something in his expression that made your breath catch. Something that looked like regret, like he was reconsidering something he'd just said.

"Actually," he said, and his voice was steadier now, "about that festival."

You looked at him, waiting.

"It might not be a bad idea," he continued, and there was a careful consideration to his words, like he was choosing each one deliberately. "For us to attend together, I mean. Not because anyone thinks we should. But because..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Because I'd like to spend that evening with you. If you'd want to."

Your breath caught slightly. There was nothing casual about the way he said it, despite how carefully he was choosing his words. There was intention there, and something that looked a lot like hope.

"Yeah," you said softly. "I'd like that."

VENTI

Venti had dragged you out to yet another performance. You weren't sure why he felt the need to do this—invite you specifically, stand you in a particular spot in the crowd where he could see you, like your presence mattered to the mechanics of him playing. But he'd shown up at your door this morning with his elfish smile and asked if you were busy. A pointless question, really. He would have begged and whined until you relented had you said no. 

On the way to the fountain, he'd been insufferable. He kept humming fragments of melodies, stopping abruptly to ask your opinion on them, then laughing at your answers like you'd said something hilarious when you were just trying to be helpful. At one point he'd grabbed your wrist and spun you around on the street for no reason, just to see your expression, probably.

"You're going to make me dizzy," you laugh, pulling your hand back.

"Is that a complaint, windblume?" he asked, and there was something in his tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

"Yes," you lied.

He had just smiled like he could see right through you.

Now, standing near the fountain while he set up, you watched him adjust his lyre with great care; the kind of care reserved for especially special things in one’s life. Which, for Venti, was music and—you were noticing more and more—you. 

He kept glancing over at you, making sure you were in the right spot, making sure you could see him properly. You found it funny, it was almost like a nervous tick. A flick of his gaze to you every few seconds to make especially sure that you had your eyes on him. It was unnecessary. Of course you could see him. You were always looking at him anyway.

Another bard approached as Venti was finishing his setup—someone you recognized vaguely from around the city. They exchanged greetings, the kind of easy familiarity that suggested they knew each other from the musician's circles. You turned your attention back to the fountain, not really listening until the other bard said something that made you tune back in.

"Your recent stuff has been different," he was saying to Venti. "All of it sounds like it's about the same person."

You felt something shift in your chest. His recent stuff? You hadn't really paid that much attention, if you were being honest. But now that it was being pointed out, you found yourself wondering if that was true. 

You'd been hearing him play new things lately, pieces you hadn't heard before, and now you were suddenly wondering who they were about.

The bard glanced over at you, then back at Venti, and you watched something click into place behind his expression.

"That your muse?" he asked, gesturing vaguely in your direction.

Venti laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads, that seemed to move through the air like something physical. He spun—actually spun, his coat catching the light—and when he looked at you, there was something deliberate in the movement.

"The best one I've ever had," he said, and he was looking directly at you when he said it.

Your face went hot. The other bard laughed too, charmed, and the conversation continued between them, but you weren't really listening anymore. You were stuck on that phrase, on the way Venti had said it, on the realization that apparently his recent compositions had been about you and you'd been too oblivious to notice.

An hour later, after the performance was over and you'd managed to slip away, you found yourself at the tavern. You were nursing a drink when Venti sat down beside you. He waved a hand to the bartender, and Charles just sighed—a routine. And then Venti’s gaze was fixed on you.

"You've been thinking about what I said," he observes.

"I haven't," you say, which is a lie and you both know it.

"Mm." He's amused. You can hear it in his voice. "That's exactly why you’ve been zoning out since my  performance?” He had that teasing lilt in his voice. You wanted to puncture his voice box. 

"You can't just say something like that and expect me not to—" you start, then stop because you're not actually sure what you're going to say. Expect you not to what? Wonder if he meant it? Wonder what it means? Wonder if you're reading too much into it?

"Not to what?" Venti prompts, and there's that tilt of his head again, that soft amusement in his expression.

"You know what," you snap, trying not to sound flustered. 

Venti, all he does is laugh. You really want to puncture his voice box. 

thanks so much for reading!!

JEFF

Uhm. Jeff is very emotionally unavailable.

Well, sorta. Maybe he’s worked on it for you? Especially if he really cares about you but don’t expect large gestures of love, of really anything but awkwardly sitting and or getting angry. He’s really only angry because he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to regulate your emotions for you. So when you came in, feet lazily dragging up the stairs and opening the bedroom door, you’re startled to see Jeff sitting on the bed.

When he sees you it’s.. a whole lot of staring.

“Who did this?”

He’ll ask fast, a little aggressively.

“No one Jeff, just a shit day..”

“Are you lying?”

You look at him while taking lazy steps to sit next to him.

“No”

Because. If it was someone.. he may not be good at regulating your emotions but he’ll sure as shit have the person who hurt you strung by their own insides for hurting you. But it was nobody, today felt dreadful and tears came on their own accord. Your head slowly shifts to rest on his shoulder and Jeff stops the sharpening of his knife for a moment, he’s like that for a good moment before awkwardly letting a hand come up to stroke your hair.

He’s trying okay?

BEN

You should know you don’t have privacy when it comes to Ben, your camera in your phone is always being peered through, your laptop, anything you can look into he’s looking right back at you.

Whoever you’re texting, whoever has you worked up the way you are right now has Ben’s pale skin a deep shade of red. But we can’t react irrationally right? We have to be a good boyfriend right Ben?

‘Baby why crying?’

YOU! Are typing but your texts seem to be deleted mid type and your phone is now typing for you. Fucking Ben.

He clearly knows why. He’s hijacked your phone, he’s sitting in the messages between you and your friend. He’s already read them thoroughly, memorized them intently.

‘Too pretty to cry mama, want me to fix it?’

No. No you don’t.

But he’ll only say a few things baby.. nothing too mean. He may come back to you a little bloody? His arms open with a pout on his face to almost mimic you. Press kisses to your forehead. That’s what a good boyfriend would do right?

Before you can reply in any way a message from your end is sent to your friend.

It’s Vulgar. And it’s gone in case of evidence. But.. there long enough to be seen. And Ben is no longer answering to your panicked spam messages, he’s only protecting you babe and well.. he didn’t really like that friend anyway =))

TOBY

Oh no no no, why? Why are tears streaming down his baby’s face? You’ll call him, he’ll be in the middle of chasing some stupid bitch down and the moment he hears those sad little whimpers he’s fast on his heel to turn around and book it back home. I have this Head canon that.. Toby has developed a tic where if he’s close enough he’ll rub his nose up and down your cheek, it started due to comforting and now it’s just become something he’ll do if your face is in close proximity.

If it was a shit day he’s there immediately, tripping over long limbs to wrap his twitchy arms around you, face smushed into yours and mumbling comforting words. If someone hurt you? It would be relatively the same, except his face is smushed and he’s speaking some., non comforting words?

“I’ll k-kill them. I will, I’ll bash my hatchet into their fuck-fucking face for doing this, who was it? Tell me? You won’t be in t-t-trouble, promise.. just tell me. I won’t do anything… crazy. Just- please.. please tell me”

He’s rubbing his nose against your cheek and jaw.

“No.. no more tears, just tell me- I-I’ll only c-choke em, won’t get b-b-bloody, swear it. T-this mother fucker won’t live for this.”

His hands run up behind your back to grab at your shoulders, face buried deep into the side of your neck while he continues to mumble how he wants to curb stomp the fucking asshole who made you cry like this.

He’ll bring their head to the front doorstep for you just so you know you won’t be bothered anymore

Whatever you want.

Tell him.

He’ll do it.

HABIT

Who? And what? And why? And where? If it’s as simple as a shitty day, tired and having to deal with paper work, or whatever it is you may do then you may not get much, maybe sex? Something to keep you quiet. he gets entertained He doesn’t do the entertaining especially any sort of comforting. But someone makes his bunny cry? Oh.

He’s hunting.

Nobody makes you cry like that, nobody hurts you, nobody except him, because he knows what’s really too much for you.

“Where were you?” He’ll ask quick, scoping you out the moment you told him some douchebag had screamed in your face, told you how fucking stupid you are for not being able to take a simple order. HABIT’s nose sniffs quick, brows quirking “bunny, where is this mother fucker, I’m not messing around”

How he can smell someone specifically , you will never get, you never really get used to any of HABIT’S.. habits lol. Bulky hands grab at your face, thumbs caressing the wet spots on your cheeks and pulling you into for kisses on the corner of your lips

“I’ll make it go away, and then you can have me all night”

BRIAN/HOODIE

He catches you right before he’s about to head out hand pulling at his hood and all.

“Woah woah woah”

Hands are out in front of you and he’s ducking to get a better look at your face all while pushing your hair out of your face.

“Hey woah. What’s going on babe?”

If it’s an absolute SHIT day and you just need a cuddle, a hug, just something quiet. He’s the mother fucking guy for the job. Brian’s thumbs slowly circle your shoulder while you both slump on the couch, his chin resting on your head. You can cry it out, if you wanna vent and scream go for it, he won’t judge you. He may even offer you some of his medication.

The medication he found.

Say no.

Now if someone hurt you? Oh, oh the stalking begins. He’s at that pricks work place, family house, bars they may go to, he’s going as far as stalking their friends to get a better idea of who this piece of shit thought they were. They’re valuables disappear slowly, essential things they need are no longer where they left it, and they were pretty sure they locked the door minutes ago when they stare at Brian in the corner of their room.

Brian comes back home to a sleepy you, his hoodie pocket hiding a few little gifts he brought back for you, but.. but you can see those tomorrow you keep sleeping, you deserve it. He’ll lay with you, dipping into the bed and pressing his nose deep into your shoulder blade.

TIM/MASKY

I mean he’s naturally reserved, quiet tends to keep to himself right? I feel he’s like Brian in this sense. Of course he’ll be there for you, he’s on the front doorstep with a cigarette in his mouth and blank eyes suddenly turn wide and a bit worried. He catches your wrist before you walk past him inside

“Where you goin’? Let me see your face”

He looks up at you from where he sits and examines the puffy skin around your eyes. He gets to his feet, ducking his head to get a better look at you.

“Oh.. sweetheart what happened?”

That’s right, nuzzle yourself in his chest, he’s there, he’s not going anywhere. He’s got you. You can cry baby he gets it. Tim’s fingers find their way through your hair and resting on the back of your neck while you breathe him in.

If it wasn’t a shit day, it was somebody who did this. He’s warm, running hot while he stands fast from the shitty sofa in his small trailer “what’d ya mean? Who?”

He’s not trying to sound mean he promises but he can’t just sit here and let whoever did this get away with it? Why can’t you understand that. But he won’t, if you really want him to stay put and forget about it he will, but on nights he blacks out and the mask is on he gets sloppy, can’t focus and somehow finds who the dumb fuck is.

that is why i feel that the first time he meets a girl and has his way with her, shoving the knife in deep with the intention to satiate the burning need in his veins, he's stunned at the way she gasps and chokes, eyes fluttering like its the most romantic thing she's ever felt. being penetrated by something so sharp and cold, closer to her core than any kind of sexual act could ever wish to achieve. the pain is unbearable but the shock helps to numb the sensation, and the idea of what is happening is pleasurably dizzying.

its intimate, and it bothers him the way her mouth falls open and she blinks the tears out of her eyes, lashes wet and face burning with what looks like lust.

it bothers him that she looks like she likes it.

when he pulls away, he leaves not just a gaping wound, but an empty void that begs to be filled again.

she survives, miraculously.

like an abused stuffed animal, she gets stitched back together, a permanent love scar on her abdomen.

he'll replay the moment in his head, over and over, thinking about how he shouldn't have fled. he should have kept going.

shoving the knife in, and out.

in, and out.

in. out. in...

he'll return to her in the middle of the night and steal her.

the antics that come after are disgusting, and jack will begrudgingly get dragged into the aftermath everytime jeff pierces her over and over, like pins in a voodoo doll, and he has to stitch up each cut and gash.

jeff hardly indulges in normal sex. he fucks with his knife more than anything else. the act of stabbing much more arousing and stimulating than the usual form of penetration most people indulge in, but he still likes to engage in a bit of casual sex with the sharp tip of his blade pressed against her neck. he growls deep and rough from in his chest, and it resonates through his whole body like a lion. he never has a nice thing to say, all venom and sharp-tongued insults.

"Dumb-cunt whore...you look good with a knife in your guts."

hes hardly a man. monster is his preferred title.

♡Tim

Will try to act nonchalant about it but this man has the biggest smirk on his face the moment his brain processed what you said.

"Did i hear that right puddin'? I'm your man huh?"

Then the moment y'all get home he's eating you out :P

♡Brian

He smiled, pulling you closer to him the moment he heard those words resting his head in-between the crook of your neck

"You're getting a sweet treat the moment we get home, 'kay love." He whispered

He chuckled letting you go as he walked back to the truck

♡Toby

"T- THAT'S ME! IM Y Y Y- YOUR MAN!!" He bounced around, the biggest brightest smile on his face before showering you with a gazillion kisses

He will be refering to himself as "Her Man" For the rest of the day

♡Eyeless Jack

He didn't think it was possible but he did just fall for you all over again

He was probably doubting himself, thinking about if you actually loved him but those words just solidified it, He knows you're the one for him

♡Jeff

Congratulations on feeding this man's ego

He will be acting so smug about it too

Will be using it against you whenever y'all get into any stupid little argument "Womp womp, What was it that you said? Im your man?!"

The sound of the cicadas song danced in the air, birds chirped from their nests high up in the tree forest, mice scattered through the long grass, in the distance was a pond filled with clear water sparkling from the setting sun.

By the pond was a wounded male elk, a limp in his leg from a bullet wound. It thought it was safe before bending its neck to drink some of its cool refreshing water.

The hunter allowed the creature one last moment of reprieve, a second of peace, allowing him to think he was finally safe and relaxed. When the creature had lifted its head.

*BANG!*

The creature fell down, a bullet through the side of the head- no pain, no fear. Clean and instant, the hunter only wished she had gotten it right the first time.

“Finally..” You huffed, putting your rifle over your shoulder before approaching the dear. Its eyes are cold. You had been tracking the deer for days now, finally it was in your possession. You had tied up its legs before carrying it to your truck. After carefully setting it in the back, you got in the driver’s seat and began your journey home….. If you could call it home.

“What time is it…?” You muttered as you opened the glove compartment, finding your phone. One of your number one principals, when hunting, leave the phone behind and you were glad you did. Once you turned it on, you were met with ninety nine plus missed calls and over ninety nine plus messages. “Does he ever get the fucking hint…?” You muttered. 

He knew better than to try to call you when you were hunting, you knew better to call him when he was out. The term ‘common courtesy’ didn’t exist in his vocabulary.

You rolled your eyes before turning on the radio.

“This just in, over the course of the week, five families all found dead in their homes in salt lake county. Police believe it to be the work of the ever infamous Smiling Sleeper, known for killing his victims while they lay in bed and forgive me folks- carving a smile into their faces.”

You switched the channel, maroon five began to play. Better this than listening to that crap on the radio.

“I am in misery, there ain’t nobody who can comfort me, oh-yeah. Why won’t you answer me? The silence is slowly killing me, oh yeah.” You sang as you drove through the forest and down a dirt road.

.

.

.

‘Home sweet home’ you thought as you pulled up to the house, you saw some lights on in the house, usually never a good sign. 

You parked your truck up to the shed where you retrieved the deer, you dragged him inside the shed. You placed him on the table and rolled up your sleeves. You started by cutting the creature from chest to sternum before reaching inside, and using the knife to cut away its internal organs. Grabbing them all in both hands, you dumped them inside a bucket.

Your hands bloody, you wiped them with a cloth before hanging the creature from its back legs and letting its carcass bleed out. His body would be ready in the morning, for now- it was time for a shower and bed.

As you approached your back door, you could already hear the screams, the sounds of thrashing and furniture moving. You entered the house, the kitchen was a damn mess.

“SOMEONE HELP ME! HELP ME!!!” The shrill of a voice screamed, a young woman burst out from around the corner, her eyes landing on you. Her eyes filled with hope. “Please help me! He’s going to kill me, please!” She screamed.

She was pretty. Lovely gold hair, blue eyes and a slim figure. She was wearing a cheerleader’s uniform that had been torn and bloodied, her bow which was originally blue was now a black purplish colour. Her cheeks that might have been a lovely red were now as pale as the ivory, her lips were dry and cracked, her voice was raspy and hurt from screaming.

She rushed over to you, clung to you. You held her close to you as the sounds of footsteps ascended from the basement.

“Oh Tammy- where did Tammy go~? Hehehehehe!” 

She looked up at you, tears in her eyes. “We have to run- he’ll kill us both!” 

“Don’t worry.” You say, your voice comforting to the girl, a small smile on your face. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore, I promise.” You pulled her in for another hug, her shivering seemed to ease.

“Thank you! Thank you so much-”

*crack!*

It was quick and easy, she didn’t notice your hands creeping up to her neck. She didn’t see it coming, you snapping her neck- the life fading from her quickly as you catch her. “I’m sorry…” You muttered as you laid her down on the floor, and at that moment, it looked as if she were only sleeping.

“Babe!” Growled a voice, you looked over at the entrance of the kitchen and there he was. Standing over you at six feet and four inches tall, his shaggy strands of black hair covering half his face, his scarred mouth twisted into a sneer as a single eye peeked out from behind his hair- dilated ice blue eyes that stared down at you with rage. “You stupid bitch- why did you do that for?!” he yelled, rushing over to you, shaking you around as if you were a sack of potatoes.

“Unlike you- I don’t enjoy cruelty, you sadistic prick. What did I say about keeping this shit OUT of our house!?” You roared back.

“You were gone for five days- what was I supposed to do?! Wait for you to get back?”

“I was stalking Jeff- I do this all the time! You don’t see me complaining when you go off to murder entire families- oh yeah. Speaking of which… five families in Salt Lake County? Are you trying to get caught?!” You yelled.

“You say you’re not complaining but that's what you're doing right now!” He shouted.

“All I’m saying is- you could be a little smarter next time Jeff!” You scoffed as you picked up the young girl’s body. "At least help me give her a proper burial? Torturing cheerleaders- that's exactly like you, you evil pig!” 

“Don’t be so jealous now- she doesn’t scream nearly as good as you~” Jeff snickered as he opened the door, helping you carry the girl outside.

This was your life, twenty one years old and living with a psychotic maniac, Jeff the Killer as he called himself. You were as normal as normal could be until this guy turned your life upside down. Now here you were, living with him for the past two years now, trying to survive and maintain some sense of peace in your life, but it ain’t easy since your boyfriend gets off murdering people.

And you use the word boyfriend…. Sparingly.

Your relationship with Jeff was a complicated one at that. This man had put you through a lot of traumatic shit- the seventeen year old you would never dare consider it…. Then again. You two kiss, hug, cuddle, watch movies, eat together, live together…. Fuck. On the rare occasions, you express words of love to each other.

But Jeff has a habit of trying your patience and crossing your boundaries, he gets you riled up and you have a habit of shooting homicidal maniacs who piss you off.

Some might say- why stay with him? Why not just run away and live a new life without him in it?

In truth… you had no one else. Your family was gone, you had spent two years on the run- running from and breaking whatever laws necessary to evade him. You had nothing and no one and Jeff was the only one you can turn to, the only one who wouldn’t abandon you….

The very thought makes you sick. And while you don’t actively condone your ‘lover’s sick appetite for dissection and torture, you don’t care what he does as long as you don’t have to see it. The girl, what was her name? Tammy? You felt bad for her, truly- but you knew first hand that there was no escaping Jeff. You just live on borrowed time and if he doesn’t kill you today, he’ll do it tomorrow or next week.

And sure- you could rebel against Jeff, shoot him down and give her time to escape- but you weren’t safe from his cruel machinations either and Tammy…. You think that was her name. She never had a chance and while you didn’t care about Jeff’s sadistic habits, you didn’t want to stand by and let an innocent girl suffer, knowing you did something. So, you had given her a quick and easy death.

Jeff can’t hurt her anymore and sooner or later, you’ll be the one to pay for it.

You laid down the girl’s body as Jeff got to work digging the hole, you had a torch lit as the serial made quick work of it. “You sure you don’t wanna step in and help…?!” He yelled.

“Not my victim, not my problem.” You responded.

“Says the one who snapped her neck- technically she’s your victim, not mine.”

“Techinally? You kidnapped a girl, put her in our basement- tortured for god knows how long and knowing you, let her loose so you could play chase with her. I may have killed her but you were the one who hurt her.”

“Oh my fuck- can you stop being such a stuck up cunt for once and help me bury this body?!” he yelled. You rolled your eyes before grabbing the spare shovel. You could say no but there was always the possibility Jeff could say fuck it- ditch the shovel and leave you to do the rest. He wouldn’t even care about burying the bodies unless you demanded it.

You once came home to a pile of corpses so mangled and disfigured- it had traumatised you more than you already were and refused to come home until Jeff cleaned it up.

He burned them, leaving behind ash and bones and that you had to dispose of yourself in case you had visitors. And when you say visitors, just the mail man and that was about it- you could only count your blessings that Jeff slept until twelve in the afternoon everyday without fail, leaving you undisturbed in the mornings to get the mail and go about your business without Jeff killing someone.

“Alright, done!” Jeff huffed.

“Wait!” you demanded, taking some measuring tape you used for occasions like this and measuring the depth. “Yup…. at least six feet…!” You gasped, already sweating from that work out.

Jeff climbed out of the hole and pushed Tammy into the hole, you managed to catch her before her body plummeted “JEFF!” You roared.

“What?! She's already dead!” He yelled back.

You lay her down on the ground carefully. “Sheet!” You yelled. Jeff casually tossed you an old sheet that you brought with you before wrapping it around her body. You didn’t know the girl but she at least deserved some modicum of respect. Jeff pulled you from the hole before you continued, shoveling the soil onto the silhouette behind the old sheet until the ground was solid and even.

“Well, I’m gonna take a shower- wanna join me-

“No.”

“Fine, fuck you then.” He sneered before marching back to the house. There were days where you could handle him….. Days where you could even enjoy his company…. But there were days like today you really couldn’t fucking stand him.

You went back inside the house- you could smell the blood in the air, a trail led into the kitchen from the basement where Tammy ran. You closed the basement door and opened a few windows. You climbed the stairs and made it to your room where you shed all your clothes, tossed them in the laundry basket and headed inside your bathroom.

It was just the shower you needed anyways, turned the tap on, warm water sprinkled from the shower head and you let it drench you, let yourself get soaked in the water. You looked down, seeing all the blood, sweat, dirt and grime wash away from your body and down the drain. You leaned your head against the tiled wall, letting yourself ease up.

In truth, you hadn’t been feeling well at all during the week. You thought it was a bug from some take out Jeff brought home- you thought it would go away once you went stalking where you were surrounded by nothing but fresh air and wild life.

It didn’t but you puked less when all you ate was canned soup and some Bauerwurst sausage.

You would need some proper food soon.

“Babe.” 

You didn’t hear him come in. Suddenly the shower curtain was drawn open and there Jeff was, staring down at you with malicious intent. “No Jeff- not now… please!” You backed up against the wall as Jeff stepped inside, naked on the day he was born. The killer stood over you, placing hands on either side of your head, letting the water soak him to. 

“I could listen to you…. But I just figured- you’ll be choking on my dick again eventually- why delay the inevitable?”

“Please Jeff- I’m really tired… I’m sorry I killed that girl-”

“Shut up~! Shut the fuck up~” He sang, grabbing your jaw with one hand while lowering the other one to make contact with the tap, turning it to make it hotter and hotter, just the way he liked it. “Sometimes, I forget I let you have too much control, y’know? You're sooooo cute when you think you’re in charge.” He cackled before squeezing your jaw tighter.

“Jeff! Please!” You groaned in pain- the hot water turning your shoulders red, his clenched fingers hurting your jaw.

“You know what- I might just forgive you. Just this one…. But you see the thing is… I haven’t had a taste from you in days…. You know what to do~” He grinned, the horrible grin, the first thing you saw the first day you met him. He lowered himself, crouching down till he was facing your cunt, he crudely pressed his nose into your bush, making you shiver. “Jeff- I haven’t shaved.”

“You really think I give a fuck if your pussy is bald or not? Come on- lift your leg!” He yelled.

It's just sex.

It's just sex…

That’s all it was….

You lifted your leg, giving the killer better access to your cunt. His tongue stretched out as he used his fingers to pull back your folds. “Hell yeah, now this is what I’m talking about~!” 

You felt the slimy appendage slip into your folds, a thumb pressing against your special button. Your head fell against the tiled wall as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, a moan leaving your throat.

You had spent five days out in the wild, tracking that deer. Sleeping rough, always on edge, keeping your wits about you. This was simply your body responding positively to the pleasure after days of exhaustion.

“God baby, you taste so fucking good~” He chuckled darkly as his tongue lashed at the inside of your cunny, the water seeming not  hot as you grabbed the edges of the tiled wall. “Jeff…! Jeff!” You moaned his name like you did hundreds of times, you could feel something poke at your leg.

It washed over you core, washed over your shoulders, all you could have was that magnificent tongue that was currently bringing you to heel. Your fingers soon found their way to his messy black hair, slowly working his scalp in a smoothing way- letting him know that whatever he was doing, it was correct.

“Dirty girl, you dirty little girl~” He cackled as he slurped at the juices flowing from your cunt. The headache you had been experiencing since you had come home suddenly began to fade, Jeff always knew how to touch you, how to make you tick. You were almost ashamed to say that this man was your first, you wish he wasn’t, after everything he has done. You wished you had a sweet romance with one of the boys from your old school, but after being Jeff’s for so long, you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else and that made you sick.

“Turn around whore.” He huffed, standing up and making you face the wall, your tits pressing against the cold tiled wall as you felt something large and sticky press against your back. “You feel that cunt? Feel that- thats how fucking hard you make me you stupid slut. You had me blue balling for a fucking week, now you gotta take responsibility-”

“Shut up and put your dick inside me already!” You yelled, looking back at him.

*slap!*

You moaned at his large leathery hand made contact with your ass, the tip of his hot cock gliding between your soft fleshy folds before sliding inside you with ease. “Oh… baby!” He cackled, his hands grabbing at your hips before he pulled back his own and plowed inside you with an unyielding and unrelenting pattern of thrusts that made you see stars. “Jeff! Jeff! JEFF!” You cried.

“That's right baby- that's right! Scream my name, scream my fucking name- I wanna here you say it while you cum.” He cackled.

It was soooooo good. His hot big cock felt so good inside you. Pressed up against the cold tiled wall while hot water rained down from above and the giant meaty

.

.

You opened the fridge and as you guessed, not a lot inside.

“Guess I’m going grocery shopping tomorrow…” You muttered as you took out the remainder of the eggs, your leftover avocado spread and the milk. You check the pantry for bread and thankfully, half a pan was left.

With what you had, you made some scrambled egg and toast.

“Jeff! You finished cleaning?!” You yelled. He did not look pleased as he came into the kitchen, wearing baggy pants, socks and slides. “What do you think?” He muttered, a bucket of bloody water in one hand and the mop in the other. As you laid the table, he went outside and dumped the bloody water. You were also lucky enough to find some chamomile tea at the back of the cupboard. Jeff cared less about tea, juice and water, more on soda’s energy drinks and coffee. It was a wonder that Jeff was as fit as he was now. While you made your tea, Jeff just grabbed a can of monster from the fridge and sat down at the table.

“You couldn’t have made any bacon..? There's bacon in the fridge!” 

“Yes, there is.” You muttered, taking out the open pack of bacon, not properly wrapped up and three days past the expiration date. “Do you seriously not look at the expiration date Jeff? You should have eaten it all before I left.”

“Pfft, whatever.” He huffed as you threw away the bacon and sat down at the table. Jeff didn’t seem pleased by the spread before him but knew he had little choice in the matter. This was a preferred breakfast for you, easy and quick to make. Spread the avocado on the toast before topping it with the scrambled eggs. You could have made poached eggs or fried eggs but you were tired and those  required a lot of work and focus to make.

“So……….” Jeff muttered awkwardly, it wasn’t uncommon for you two to sit together for meals- it gave your life a sense of normalcy but that and Jeff was a very strange combination. He was a man who rejected normalcy at all costs and yet if it meant neither you or him were at each other’s throats for once, he could stomach it. “How was… the stalking..?”

“It went well. I missed my shot, went into his thigh and he got away, it took me two days to track him down. Once he’s been bled, I’m gonna hand him over to the butchers in town. It’ll make us some good money that I expect to last.” You noted, giving him a look.

“You know I don’t mess around with money- besides, I want something, I take it.” he huffed.

“Yeah.. I’ll leave in the morning. Do you think you could just write me a list of what you need and I’ll take care of it?”

“You do so love to play my errand girl, don’t you?” He snickered.

“Yes, I actually do. Another opportunity to be away from you.” You smiled.

“Whatever- you love my dick and you know it.” 

“I won’t even dignify that with an answer.” 

Of course, washing up was left to you, no surprise there. Once you were done washing the dishes and leaving them to dry, you headed back upstairs to your room. You took your hair out of the towel you left it in before running some hair oil in it and using a hairdryer. You would have liked to have read your book sitting on the nightstand, but such things would have to wait until tomorrow.

Besides, you didn’t have the mindset to be reading.

As soon as your hair was fully dried, you changed into your pajamas and turned off your lights. Just as you got settled in bed, your bedroom door opened, revealing Jeff, eye mask over his head as he saundered in. “Jeff.” You moaned, “You have your own bed.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not in it.” He reiterated, pulling back your covers and hopping inside. He crudely pulled you against him, your face planting against his chest. “Besides- you miss me too, don’t you?” He smirked.

“Goodnight, Jeff.” You muttered, succumbing to Jeff’s cuddles.

“Love you dollface.” he muttered.

“I love you too…..” You replied.

.

.

.

“I need more makeup…” You muttered as you used up the last of your concealer to cover up the hickies Jeff had left on your neck. The deer had been successfully bled through, skinned and gutted. Now you were dressed, some boot cut jeans, a dark red henley top, some ankle boots and your purse. You prettied yourself up before leaving the house, people in the nearby town know you as the young wife living on the outskirts with your husband who’s always working.

You grabbed the keys to the truck and the wedding ring. You only ever wore it when you went into town.

You hopped into the truck and drove into the town while making a mental checklist of what you needed to do.  Your first stop was the butcher shop where you handed your game over to the owner, Keith. He always gave you a good price for your game. Once you had your cash, you then went to the supermarket, restocking on what you needed. Groceries, toiletries and cleaning products…. Your final stop.

The pharmacy.

Your nerves began to play at you as you exited the car and walked inside the store. There were elderly inside the store, at the reception to get their prescription meds. You went over to the women’s health section, your eyes landing on the very object that has been causing you dread all week.

Pregnancy tests.

You weren’t stupid but you certainly felt stupid. You’ve been letting Jeff hit it raw for a while now, everytime you asked to use protection, he would bitch and moan and it was always a losing game when it came to Jeff so you stopped asking. Now you think you should have been more persistent. You felt the sickness two weeks ago- you chalked it up to a bug and figured some time away from the house and a week in the wilderness would put you back in good spirits.

But you were still vomiting, strange bouts of fatigue, the very same that caused you to miss that first shot on the deer and the biggest sign, your period was due last week but it never came, you simply thought you were late but after a week it still wasn’t there.

You took a box of three tests and picked up some more makeup before you headed over to the register. It felt awkward, waiting in line. It was such a normal thing to do and yet you lived such an abnormal lifestyle.

“Oh- my, my. You look a bit young to be having babies…!” Said a nosy Granny beside you, loud enough for everyone to look behind to see you. Play it off, play it off-

“Well- my husband wants a big family, y’know! Better to start now then later.” You laughed it off, making sure your wedding ring was visible for those nosy bastards to see. The granny began to laugh too. “Aw, I was just your age when I had my first child. I was worried- not alot of youngin’s have families anymore. We need more families in this town.”

“Yeah- we’re really excited…!” You smiled.

Nosy old bitch, why don’t these old people ever mind their damn business?!

As soon as your items were bagged, you were in a hurry to get out the door. But as soon as you got outside, a body knocked into you, making you drop your bag, a lot of your stuff falling out. “Shit!”

“Oh no! I am so sorry!” A male voice cried as you both bent down to pick up your stuff. “I am so sorry, miss!” 

“It’s fine… I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You muttered, as he took your box of pregnancy tests hesitantly- “Oh.. um..”

“That's… mine..” You muttered, taking them from him slowly as you looked up to see him. It was already bad that so many people saw you with pregnancy tests and now people were gonna start talking- but this guy in front of you now…. Was very handsome! He had dark brown hair that was a tad bit messy like he had been in a hurry, these lovely green eyes, a bright kelly green. He wore a leather jacket over a grey shirt and some denim jeans.  “I am so sorry!” He exclaimed, handing you the rest of your belongings.

“That was rude of me- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable- I- I should leave- I’m sorry.” he blushed before hurrying on his way.

The encounter left you feeling confused but what else could you do?

You hurried back over to your truck and extracted three cans of red bull, opening each one and downing it. You must pee, you need to pee. You looked at the directions on the box. “Pee on stick… wait three minutes… one line is negative…. Two is positive..” You let your head fall back, dropping the box as your fists pounded the wheel. “SHIT!” 

By the time you arrived back home, your need to pee was great and in full effect- first… check on the sleeping killer in your bed.

You hurried upstairs and looked inside your bedroom, Jeff hasn’t moved an inch, he’s never up before two.

You headed inside your bathroom and began the process, each stick got a healthy dosing of urine before you set each on the counter and set the time. Your eyes glued to your phone as you waited, sitting on the toilet as your foot tapped against the tiled floor, this had to be the longest three minutes of you entire life, this was fucked, everything was fucked. You dragged your fingers down your face, the anxiety eating at your chest, the nervousness chipping away at you so badly that you found yourself needing to use the bathroom again.

You wanted to think of something else but the weight of this test was absolutely killing you, you couldn’t take it anymore- even if the timer wasn’t up, your had to see-

“Huh….?” you muttered.

+

On the test, was a cross sign, a big pink ridiculous cross sign. It slipped from your fingers and onto the tiled floor.

Maybe it was a false positive? False positives can always happen, right? Yeah, the other test should be ready now-

+

+

Your heart dropped to your stomach. 

You just sat there, looking at the two tests in your hand. There was no way that all three of them could be wrong. “Oh my god…” You cried, tears falling down your face.

“(Y/n)!” The bathroom door opened, Jeff rubbed the sleep from his eyes before taking a step back. “Are you taking a shit? Lock the door in future! I don’t wanna see you….”

His eyes trailed to the tests on the floor, his voice coming to a halt.

“Jeff….. We need to talk….”