#wait this is new whump to me I haven’t seen these before

[actress4him]

June of Doom 2023

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Taglist: @painful-pooch , @robinbugwhump

Day 7 - “What’s the bad news?” | Disoriented | Bite | Chainsaw

Also qualifies for @whumpawoman ‘s Whump Girl Summer Day 3 - Nightmares

Contains: lady whump, drowning, needles, nightmares, death mention, fantasy prejudice, captivity, restraints

.

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She’s drowning. She was taking the trash out back, getting ready to close up the shop, when a sudden rush of water came out of nowhere, filling up the alley, sweeping her off her feet and along with it. She can’t breathe, her head is below water and she can’t find the surface. Every time she thinks she can feel the bottom with her feet, she’s just tumbled around by the force of the water. She needs air, she needs air, if she can’t get a breath soon she’s going to die…

Suddenly, with a great crashing of waves, the water is gone. She’s in the basement. The man is standing over her, a syringe in one hand, a whip in the other, growling, “You used your magic again didn’t you? Didn’t you? Filthy excuse for a human!”

“N-no, no, I…it wasn’t me, I swear, I…I don’t know where it came from…” Her voice is timid, weak, and she can’t seem to make it any stronger no matter how ashamed about it she feels. 

“Shut up before I gag you.” He lunges forward with the needle, and she can’t move. Her feet are stuck as if in quicksand. All she can do is stand there and scream as he plunges the needle into her arm. 

Immediately the water comes back, swirling around her legs. She still can’t seem to move. It’s rising higher and higher, up to her waist, and she spots Isa across the room, chained to the wall by one wrist. She doesn’t say anything, but her fear is evident in her expression.

“Isa! Hang…hang on, it’s okay, I’ll…I can stop this…somehow…” She has to reach her magic. Water is her thing, she can’t let it get the best of them.

“Don’t use your magic!” Isa’s voice sounds like she’s miles away. “You’ll make him mad!”

“I can’t just stand here and let us both drown!” Shutting her eyes, she stretches deep inside herself, but she’s met with an empty void. There’s nothing there, not even a wisp of magic. “No. No that can’t be right, it…it has to be there!” She tries again, with the same result. A sob escapes as the water reaches her chest. “It’s gone! My magic, it’s gone, he took it!”

The water brushes her chin as she stands helplessly, reeling from the lack of magic. Isa is staring at her, waiting for her to do something, but she can’t. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s gone, I don’t know what to do…”

“Lainey!” 

“I wanted to save you, but I can’t…”

“Lainey!”

“I’m sorry, Isa!”

“Lainey wake up!”

Her eyes fly open. She’s lying on the floor of the basement, Isa hovering over her. Lainey looks around the room wildly, but there’s no water or man anywhere to be seen. 

“Where…where’d it go, did it work? Did I get rid of it? I couldn’t find my magic, I didn’t think I was gonna be able to…he’s gonna be mad, though, where is he? Does he know?”

“Hey,” Isa interrupts softly. “It’s okay. He’s not here.”

“He was, he was here, just a minute ago, didn’t you see? He gave me another shot. He told me not to use my magic but you were gonna…” Something clicks all of a sudden and she frowns at Isa. “How’d you get out of the chains?” She pushes herself up to sit, now aware that Isa’s been gently holding her wrist this whole time. She never touches Lainey. It’s…really nice, to actually feel a kind touch for once. The hand retreats as soon as Isa sees her looking at it, though.

“Lainey, I haven’t been chained up for a few days now. You were having a nightmare. Everything’s…alright, right now. He’s not here, I’m okay, you’re okay…and as far as I know, your magic is okay.”

A nightmare? It’s starting to make sense now. None of that was actually real, half of it didn’t even make sense, no matter how real it felt in the moment. She reaches for her magic, and finds it. It’s a bit weak - whether from the couple of different injections she’s gotten or the lack of good food and sleep, she doesn’t know - but it’s there. She can even call a few droplets of water to her fingertips.

She’s never had a dream where water was against her before. Water has always been her friend. The implications of that are…not something she wants to dwell on right now.

Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, she tries to shake off the remnants of fear from the dream. “Sorry. Sorry, yeah, it…it was definitely a nightmare. I was just…it felt really real, you know? Felt like I was still in it when I woke up.”

Isa nods. “I understand. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I probably woke you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. You’re fine, really.”

Lainey sighs heavily. “Thanks for waking me up.”

Isa gives her a grim smile. “Sure. I’d…hope that you would do the same for me.”

“Of course.” She turns her body around so she can lean against the wall next to her companion. “I don’t think I’m gonna go back to sleep anytime soon, so…have I told you yet about when I first got my magic, and nearly flooded the house?” Maybe she can mesh the scary elements of the dream into a funny memory in her mind and stop feeling so on edge.

[estrellami-1]

Lmao regarding your tags, I’m waiting until we’re “done” (are we ever gonna be done?) to find a way to put it in my master list 😂

Yesssss here’s where they find out that Steve’s always “fine”. There’s a movie called Italian Job, it’s not new but idk if it would classify as old and I never know what people have and haven’t seen. But there’s an interaction in it that I LOVE between an older character and basically his protégé. Essentially the younger says he’s fine, and the older reminds him what fine stands for: Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. And that’s kinda how I characterize Steve, at least internally; he’s FINE, because he can *keep* it all internal. And he’s always been able to do that. Nothing is ever too much for him. So he takes and he takes and he takes and he takes and he takes: the hits, the insults, everything he thinks everyone else shouldn’t have to deal with. Because Steve can deal with it, right? Because he is—and always has been—FINE.

You’re right; he’s not actively hiding it. But FINE has been his baseline for so long, he actually thinks he’s okay, he’s alright, he’s good, whatever word is going to get people off his back, because sure maybe he got a bit chewed on, but what about Henderson’s ankle? Can he walk? Will he be able to walk again? How soon? And what about Max? Maybe once she’s okay, once she’s stable and awake and talking, he’ll say something; but he probably won’t because again, FINE has been his baseline for forever.

I am LIVING for all of this yes. Steve joking about Eddie being his good-luck charm is adorable. I feel like Robin would get disproportionately jealous 😂

Maybe Eddie sees it the next day, maybe he doesn’t; maybe no one does for a few days until Eddie’s barging in with bandages and creams and even a lollipop (because he thinks he’s hilarious as he pats Steve on the head).

Once again I am LIVING for your question as to whether or not it happens while he’s sick. Imma say yes, but not in the same way; maybe I just want to whump Steve in the same way I’m hurting right now, idk (I got Covid a few weeks ago and have a lingering cough that still sounds kinda rough). So I’m imagining he knows what to do when he’s sick. He’s no-nonsense about it, soup, water, medicine, sleep. And he usually ends up feeling better in a few days. He’s not willing to get anyone else sick, so he stays home until the worst of it is over, doesn’t let anyone in, etc. But when he’s feeling mostly better he’ll go out again, and sure, he has a lingering cough, and sure, it lingers for maybe longer than it should, but he’s—and here’s that magic word again—fine.

So I’m choosing Eddie again to be there to help when Steve says “hey, man, I think you should go.”

They’d been silent for the last few minutes, watching the movie, so Eddie’s a little taken aback. “Okay, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Steve makes a face, gestures to his head. “I think I’m coming down with something, I don’t want to give it to you.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, if Wayne knew I left when you were sick, I think he’d actually disown me, dude. You’ve got meds, yeah?”

“Yeah, cabinet in the bathroom.”

Eddie nods. “Go take what you need. Are you tired?”

Steve makes a face. “Not really? But I know I need sleep.”

Eddie waves him off. “You’ll get sleep, don’t worry. Come on down here when you’re done, do you want soup or hot tea?”

Steve blinks. “You don’t have to-”

Eddie sighs, long and drawn-out and dramatic. “Soup or tea, man, pick your poison.”

Steve snorts at his choice of words, then relents, “Tea, please.”

Eddie grins. “Excellent, ‘cause that soup woulda been canned.”

So Eddie takes care of him for the next few days, scarcely leaving for anything, until Steve feels well enough to go to work. “Listen, man, if you need another day-”

Steve waves him off before he can finish. “I’m fine,” he says with a smile. Ignores the tickle in his throat.

So Steve goes to work, and Eddie goes home. The very next day finds Eddie in Family Video with Steve and Robin.

He frowns when Steve coughs. “Still coughing?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s just a cough, I’m fine.”

Eddie hums, leaves, and twenty minutes later walks back in with a bag of cough drops.

Steve’s cough is gone within two days.

Okay I have an idea and I need someone to write it PLEASE.

Every time Steve gets injured, the amount of attention he gets is directly proportional to how quickly/well the injury heals.

If he has a lot of attention, if he has someone caring for him, it heals up just fine, in a normal time span for whatever the injury might be.

If he doesn’t have a lot of attention (maybe, if he drives himself home—alone—after getting a concussion), it takes a LOT longer to heal, and may not heal as well (he’ll have some side effects after),

I’m imagining, by virtue of being platonic soulmates, Robin knows, but she can’t always be there.

Enter Eddie, Steve’s boyfriend and the one person who could possibly spoil Steve with attention.

[dump-o-whump]

Red Market — 3.5: Hanahaki Disease

this is not canon :) (also @augustwritingchallenge)

content: begging, death wish, immortal/healing whumpee, sadistic whumper, no-holds-barred beatdown, punches, interrogation (kinda?), implied stockholm syndrome, hanahaki (obviously /lh), vomit, fever whump, use of ‘owner’ ‘master’ and ‘sir’, bbu, pet whump

•

Leo had been sick all week. He hated it. His new owner did, too — he wouldn’t stop complaining about how he hated giving Leo recovery time. Leo, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about Master. He would have given him recovery time and been happy about it. He would have given him whatever he wanted. God, Leo would kill to be with him again. He missed it more than anything.

Just as he thought this, he felt himself start to throw up, and leant over the rusting bucket his new owner had given him. He shut his eyes and winced.

Tried to think of Master. Not the new one — that would only make it worse — but his old one. The kind one. The one who would stroke his hair after he’d hurt him, hold him close, and love him. Master.

When he was done, he collapsed, limbs weak and shaky. It wasn’t until he strongly smelt flowers that he got up again. To his dismay, he smelt it coming from the bucket. He looked inside hesitantly.

He saw what he smelt. Roses, daffodils, peonies, daisies, foxgloves — flowers. Their petals littered the floor around him and the bucket. He felt a tingle in his throat and coughed up more, holding them with a shaking hand. Tears of fear and denial welled in his eyes.

“S-Sir,” Leo muttered, crawling to the door of his cell, “Something… s-something is wrong.”

His new master immediately appeared, as if he was waiting by the door. He knelt down and stuck a hand through the bars to harshly grab Leo’s face. Leo instinctively jerked away. “Yeah, it is.”

“I know. I-I’m sorry. But… there’s… there’s something wrong. I’ve b-been throwing up flo…” He choked out a sob on the word, “s-something else, Sir.”

“‘Something else’?” His owner looked perplexed. He thought for a second, before saying, “Move.”

It made Leo even more sick to his stomach, but he did as the man asked, shuffling away from the door as he opened it. His master stepped into the room and made a beeline for the bucket.

“This smells like shit. You’re gonna be cleaning this up when you’re done being sick.”

“Yes, Sir.” Leo replied, eyes half-lidded.

There was a silence for a few seconds. A few peaceful, blissful seconds, in which Leo fell asleep sitting up in his exhaustion.

Those few seconds did not last long.

“I cannot believe you.” His new owner hissed, turning to Leo at neck-breaking speed. He strode over to him with a rose in his hand and a glare on his face.

“Yes, S- what?” Leo locked eyes with him hesitantly.

“Who the fuck is this about?” He crushed the rose between his fingers and threw the remainder of it at Leo, who flinched away with a pathetic whimper that he immediately regretted. “Who? Come on, go on, you defiant little shit! Tell me who you’ve got this little crush on! This is why you’re so sick? Fucking hell!”

“N-No, Sir, I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I didn’t… it’s not my fault!”

“I don’t give a shit who’s fault it is!” He grabbed Leo by the throat and squeezed. Leo struggled desperately as he felt the air drain from his lungs. He clawed desperately at his new master’s hands, wordlessly begging for release. “You think I’ve never seen hanahaki before? You don’t think I know? I know everything about you! You haven’t got a chance.”

Leo hardly knew what Sir was talking about. He could feel his eyes closing, his brain slowly stopping its panic, everything being covered in a dull blanket of calm. Sir’s voice was draining out in the background of his exhaustion.

“Wake the fuck up!”

He suddenly snapped back to life as Sir dropped him to the ground, undoing his grip and leaving him a desperate gasping heap on the cold ground. Everything went black for a second, and it faded back into Sir- his new master hitting him.

He felt like his head was being bashed around his skull. His new master was giving him uppercut after uppercut. Unimaginable pain sparked through his jaw. He bit down on his tongue in his half-consciousness and sent it flying out of his mouth. There was a white-hot shock of pain in his mouth as that happened, sharp as a knife. He managed a sob.

“Are you ready to fucking tell me?”

Yes, Leo wanted to scream, Yes! It’s my old master, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please fucking stop-

But he couldn’t. Sir punched him in the gut and sent him doubling over, spewing flower petals and vomit across the room. It hurt. He let out hoarded and choked sobs with every hit too his chest. He had been winded so much he couldn’t breathe, so he hyperventilated desperately between the broken sobs.

Sir dropped him and started to kick. One foot stomped on his lungs, the other kicked in his head. All Leo could do was pray he would die when Sir was finished. The thought shocked him, but he didn’t care.

Please, kill me. I want to die. I want to fucking die.

Sir finally, finally let up.

Leo couldn’t even think for a few seconds. He panted and cried and shook, entire body convulsing in agony. His body healed supernaturally, sure, but the sun didn’t. It was agony. Everything hurt. He couldn’t do this.

“Who is it?” Sir practically snarled. “Tell me or it’s time for round two.”

“…o-old master,” Leo whispered despite his tongue. “S… stop,” he added, uselessly.

“I knew it.” Sir said. He didn’t sound surprised. He paused for a second to look over Leo with a condescending glare, before turning on his heels and leaving the room. “I’ll fucking kill you.” He promised as he slammed the door.

Please do.

Leo didn’t know what to do with himself. After a pause, he lay down on the scratchy blanket and curled into the foetus position.

And he stayed like that. For seven hours.

He had stopped going to the bucket when he needed to throw up by now. For the first few hours he did, but now he didn’t feel the need. He just retched into his hand and threw the plants over his shoulder.

All he did was sob and shake and beg. He knew Sir wasn’t there and he didn’t care. He begged anyway. Begged for help, begged for death, begged for a way out.

Begged.

•

i kinda love this for some reason even though it was finished at 1:52am on the 12th and it’s almost certainly got some grammar mistakes or something nonsensical in it lmao

taglist: @whumpsday

[peachy-panic]

“Look at me.”

Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.

POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.

I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:

@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain

And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.

Without further ado.

PROMPT: “Look at me.”

WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!

He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house. 

When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area. 

At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds. 

Until now. 

Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.

There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end. 

In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.

“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm. 

“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”

Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice. 

The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.

When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.

Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that. 

“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.

He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice. 

“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist. 

The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit. 

So he does. 

Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.

All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones. 

Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck. 

“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.

Jaime’s blood runs cold. 

You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this. 

Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.

It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.

“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”

His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids -  leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet. 

“I asked you a question.”

“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper. 

It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy. 

The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

He doesn’t want this.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.

But this isn’t allowed.

His Keeper is happy.

Please, please stop touching me.

He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.

Please don’t make me do this.

His keeper is smiling.

“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”

Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.

“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds. 

There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it. 

He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.

He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.

Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.

Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him. 

But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.

“Look at me.” 

For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right. 

Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.

[bloodyfeverdreams]

Awww I’m so touched! I’ve heard a lot of good things about Always Sunny and I really should check it out someday. I love this community :>

Last Song You Listened To:

Oh I love the new rendition of “We Didn’t Start the Fire”, Fall Out Boy was not on my 2023 bingo card, but I’m so glad they did it. I love that song, and how serious they took each of the events. Also EverGiven Suez in the same place as the previous song makes me craaazzyyyy hehe

Currently Reading:

I don’t really have the ability to read right now, healing has set me back a lot unfortunately, but I will never not take a moment to promote @aliceinwhumperland​ ‘s Jack and Simone stories. They’re literally stories that I could never get enough of and I can’t wait to reread them eventually. But in terms of currently reading, all I can really do is maybe a sick!Bakugou Katsuki when I’m feeling good. Torment that spiky blonde and make the gremlin feel vulnerable and I will go feral :>

Currently Watching:

I am a 28 year old grown adult and I am unashamed to say I’m watching Bluey. I adore this show, it’s wonderful and sweet and I swear every episode helps heal my ptsd a little bit more. Also it’s really just a good show, with really great morals. I’ve seen plenty of other shows that have really shitty morals and make people apologize for not being wrong and giving in to the person who’s being mean and/or unreasonable, but this show doesn’t do that. The parents regularly apologize to their kids when they screw up, and they admit to them that they screwed up. I swear I come way too close to tears over this show. I know everyone loves Sleepytime, but honestly mine is Bin Night. That one always gets me, right in the feels.

And I will die on the hill that Muffin isn’t a spoiled brat. She’s just three you monsters. I can tell that none of you have ever been around a three-year-old. They throw tantrums all the time, and it’s a good thing that she feels comfortable being able to express her emotions all the time around her family. That means she feels safe. I am a Muffin defender and I will be forever.

Current Obsession:

I have a couple haha I play Disney Dreamlight Valley every day, I love this game. I really don’t like games that are too intense or with too much fighting or where I die and have to restart. I’ll play Lego games with my partner @withywhump​ (who you should definitely check out, they’re amazing) but that’s as far as I go. But this is soft and sweet and actually has a plot and I get to hang out with all of the characters I’ve always wanted to interact with since before I can remember. And some I’m not too fond of but eh, gotta take them all together. The other one is my always obsession with My Hero Academia. Honestly, if anyone wants to talk the show (up to season five I haven’t been able to continue until Katsuki is proven to be alive) or Bakugou Katsuki or Todoroki Shouto, I will talk until you’re begging me to stop haha

tagging

@taylortut​ @whumpitywhumpwhump​ @sick-bae​ @straight-to-the-pain​ @thefevertrope​ @la-vie-en-whump​ @a-fever-a-day​

9 people you'd like to get to know better

Thank you for tagging me @moonystardust7!

Last Song You Listened To: Something off of Lover by Taylor Swift. I think is was It's Nice to Have a Friend.

Currently Reading: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and fanfiction of course.

Currently Watching: Nothing but I just finished watching Arcane.

Current Obsession: Arcane. I just binge watched it and it is so good! Also Six of Crows and Varian and the Seven Kingdoms.

Tagging: @simplydifficultme @lilisouless @littlemisslol-fic @imaginativeworks @marvinthecrow @baura-bear @crystallizedtwilight @rupturedhaven @promptful

[skullsandwineglasses]

I’m caught up to episode 39 of Immortal Samsara, and I’m waiting for the new episode on Monday, but I can’t seem to get the drama out of my head. I can’t bring myself to be productive and focus on anything else. 

I don’t want to start a new drama to distract me from it. And I’m trying hard to avoid spoilers, although the MVs on bilibili have all worked in spoilers into their videos, so I do know what’s coming and what to expect. 

It’s just weird how much I am fixated on Immortal Samsara because xianxias shouldn’t affect me anymore since I’ve already watched so many of them and have seen all the tropes, and Immortal Samsara isn’t even that great of a xianxia. 

I’ve also watched the BTS to help me detach myself from the story by looking behind the curtain. And so in theory, I shouldn’t be so absorbed and immersed into the storyworld. Usually watching the BTS helps me break the illusion. But this time, it hasn’t. (Sidenote: I thought Cheng Yi was especially chaotic on the set of Love and Redemption, but it turns out that this man is just extremely chaotic and unhinged off-screen in general, especially when he’s with people he’s comfortable with, like Yang Zi. He’s yelling and jumping and dancing and singing and screaming and mocking. He’s just so loud lol. I’m amazed at how anything was filmed at all when he’s so goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously, and yet he’s the poster child for whump and tragic suffering. I want to see how he flips the switch between being the class clown to the tragic, heavenly hero. And then in interviews, he’s the complete opposite where he’s shy and anxious and flustered.)

But I think the problem is that we’re at episode 39 already, and the leads haven’t gotten together yet. Like at all. The angst has only just begun. Usually, the leads would have already had some kind of mutual declaration of love and have gotten together at this point, even if briefly before being separated by a misunderstanding. When couples get together in dramas, it gives me peace of mind. I feel that I’m able to detach myself from dramas when this happens, sometimes even losing interest afterwards if the affirmed relationship drags on for too long.   

But in Immortal Samsara, this hasn’t happened yet. Yan Dan and Ying Yuan/Tang Zhou have never had a true moment yet where they were able to be happily together with their feelings out in the open. It was only in that short dream sequence in the ash forest, but that doesn’t count since it wasn’t their real selves, but their idealized dream selves. 

And so I’m just sitting here, rocking in a fetal position, waiting for the next episode to come out because I need them to face their feelings, accept each other, and be together, even if only temporarily, so that I can have some closure. I know I said that I’m proud of Yan Dan for finally maturing, moving on, and wanting to live for herself, but after re-watching some of their scenes in the earlier episodes, I do miss seeing them together. 

The last drama I watched was A Dream of Splendor, and the leads got together pretty early on, and even when they had a misunderstanding afterwards, at least they were able to be together for a moment, and so the first chapter of their story was able to get some closure. But I guess you can argue that non-fantasy dramas allow characters to romantically get together more quickly

But even in Love and Redemption, probably the angstiest xianxia there is, had a period where Sifeng and Xuanji were able to be happily in love and officially together before hell broke loose. 

But it’s been 900 years. 39 episodes. Yan Dan still hasn’t gotten a confession or explanation directly from Ying Yuan himself. She still has a festering open wound that was never able to close. Tang Zhou’s confession doesn’t count because his worldview and responsibilities are much simpler than Ying Yuan’s, so it’s easy for Tang Zhou to confess, make promises, and give everything up, because he doesn’t have much to give up in the first place in comparison to Ying Yuan. 

Usually the plot structure of xianxias goes like this: ambiguous feelings -> get together -> misunderstanding and angst -> resolve angst -> second conflict -> get together

But the plot structure of Immortal Samsara so far has been: ambiguous feelings -> misunderstanding and angst -> ambiguous feelings (but more lighthearted and fun) -> more misunderstanding and angst (i.e., where we are currently). 

Angst! Has! Never! Been! Resolved!

They! Have! Never! Even! Had! A! Chance! To! Get! Together! Before! Yan Dan! Regained! Her! Memories!

I’m spending way too much time and mental energy on this drama tbh, while others are spending their time and mental energy on more worthwhile dramas like LBFD and LLTG. I really do question my taste in dramas, but the heart wants what the heart wants. 

On reddit, someone said that Immortal Samsara is not worth hating but also not worth watching, and while I see their point, I can’t help but want to defend the drama because it’s not that bad. 

Like yes, sure, it’s not original, but when have xianxias ever been known for their originality? 

I saw a video on bilibili that was like, what kind of bullshit love is worth remembering for 900 years? And I burst out laughing because, true, the premise is ridiculous, but the idea of enduring love is pretty much the point of xianxia? It’s like a fairy tale. Insta love isn’t supposed to make sense. I’m still very much a trash teenager at heart. 

Anyway, thanks for reading my Saturday night rant as I try to purge my feelings. 

[inagetawaycarxo]

Beneath The Surface [COMPLETE SERIES]

Pairings: Adam Cole x Reader, Kyle O’Reilly x Reader, Bobby Fish x Reader, Roderick Strong x Reader, Jay Halstead x Reader [Sibling], Will Halstead x Reader [Sibling], Connor Rhodes x Reader [LI], Austin Smith x Reader, Mob!Boss!Roman Reigns x Reader

Featuring: Y/n, Connor Rhodes, Jay Halstead, Will Halstead, Hank Voight, Kim Burgess,  Kyle O’Reilly, Bobby Fish, Rhys, Carson, Mr Williams, Norah Williams, Kevin Atwater, Austin Smith [OC], Roman Reigns, Jey Uso, Antonio Dawson, Adam Ruzek.

Summary: A small town is rocked by a case of a woman with amnesia, who is she? what happened to her? What is she hiding?

Warnings: involves abuse, violence, blood, whumps, firefighting stuff I got wrong, police stuff I got wrong, medical things I got wrong, medical stuff, light angst, Adam being douche, secrets, errors I missed, PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, angst, blood, violence, drama, mentions of kidnapping, character death, death, car crash.

w/c; 17523

The tree branches scraped against your skin as you ran through the woods. All battered and bruised. Finding it difficult to see out of your left eye it was swollen. You found it hard to breathe as well. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, but you kept pushing yourself to run. You couldn’t stop now, you had to run.

Hope sparked inside of you as you saw a barn. Quickly running over to the barn as best as you could.

Slipping under the wooden fence. Sucking in a deep breath, pain rippled through your body. but you pushed through. Walking up to the door of the barn. Your hand resting on the door, sliding it open.

You quickly entered the barn. Closing the door behind you. The barn smelled like manure, animals, feed, silage, and wood all mixed together. You made your way over to a hay bale, sitting down on it. You carefully laid down. The barn wasn’t occupied by animals. Your eyes slowly closed, as you winced in pain. Your head was killing you. Every limp in your body felt like it was on fire. Your vision slowly fading into black…

“Dad, I’m sure the animals will be fine,” The daughter of the elderly man huffed out.

“Just want to check on them, they are a new herd of cattle I want to see how they are settling in,” He spoke. Getting up. Walking over to the front door. Taking his coat off the hook near the door. He slipped it on. Slipping into his gumboots. He grabbed the lantern. Grabbing his matches out of his pocket and lighting the lantern. He put the match out. Putting it down on the hallway table. Grabbing his rifle that was in the corner. Slinging the armband that was attached to the rifle over his shoulder.

“They were fine ten minutes ago when you checked on them again,” His daughter sighed. As her father opened the door. Exiting the farmhouse. Ignoring his daughter.

He held the lantern up in front of him. The fire lightening his path. Eyebrows furrowing as he heard his animals make sounds of distress.

“It’s okay,” He reassured them. Not that it worked. He then proceeds to locate what got them so spooked.

Eyes widening in slight fear, as he saw a coyote stalking outside of his barn. He put the lantern down, so he could fire his rifle.

He aimed at the coyote. Pulling the trigger. The sound of the gun breaking through the air. This seemed to cause his daughter to panic rushing out of the house. While her father picked up the lantern. Running over to the coyote to see if he got it. The coyote quickly ran away, fleeing the scene without a trace of a bullet wound.

The elderly man let out a sigh. Looking at the barn.

His eyes widen as he saw a bloody handprint smudged on the door. Taking slow steps he walked to the door. Hand pressing against the door, he slides it open. Heart pounding faster.

The moonlight lit up the barn. What he saw next made his heart speed up. He clutched his chest with his hand, dropping the lantern in the process. Causing it to fall on the floor. Breaking the glass. The fire spread across the hay scatted on the ground, as the elderly man fell to his knees, holding his chest tightly as he had a heart attack. The image of a bloody, beaten-up woman laying on his hay bale was too much for him.

“DAD,” His daughter screamed as she saw the barn light up with fire. She quickly sprinted back to the house. Tearing the front door open. Rushing over to the landline. She picked the cordless phone up. Quickly dialing 9-1-1. Holding the phone up to her ear, rushing back outside.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The emergency operator spoke.

“HELP ME! My father, he is in the barn and it’s on fire,” She gasped out. Her voice was full of panic.

“What’s your address?” the emergency operator asked. Typing away on a keyboard.

“I… Oh my god,” The women gasped out, as the fire grew larger. She was too shocked to speak. The emergency operator quickly tracked the women’s location. Informing the fire department and the ambulance department.

“Ma’am, help is on the way,” The emergency operator spoke. Only to hear the sound of the phone dropping and a loud cry…

The smell of smoke invaded your nostrils, waking you up. Your eyes widen in panic as you saw fire. You quickly got off the hay bale, rushing to find a way out of this barn, unfortunately, you inhaled too much smoke, making you collapse to the ground…

The sound of the fire siren, as well as an ambulance siren, got louder as they drove up the driveway. The fire rig stopping near the barn. While the ambulance stopped a bit behind the fire truck.

The daughter of the elderly man rushed over to them.

Kyle and Bobby rushed out of the rig. Putting their oxygen mask on and tanks on their backs, before rushing into the building. While the other firefighters rolled the hose out, turning the nozzle on. releasing water.

Bobby and Kyle saw an elderly man laying on the ground. Bobby checked his pulse. Kyle looked around the barn, seeing another figure.

“Bobby there’s another one in here,” Kyle spoke. Pointing at a figure.

“I’ll get him out, and you go get her,” Bobby ordered. Kyle nodded. Carefully walking over to the figure. While Bobby picked the guy up, pulling him out of the building.

Kyle gasped as he took in the figure. It was a woman. Her face was littered with scratches. Not only was her face littered with scratches but there was blood on her face. he put two and two together, they were keeping this woman hostage.

He quickly picked her up carefully, walking out of the building. Glaring at the woman and the guy in the stretcher. Bobby looked up.

“Oh my god,” Bobby gasped out.

The woman looked up from her father. The other paramedic saw Kyle take another victim out. Rushing over to the back of the ambulance van, taking out another stretcher.

“Where you holding her captive?” Kyle spat out. As the other paramedic bought the stretcher over to Kyle. Kyle placed the woman delicately down on the stretcher. While the other paramedic checked the women.

“What?” The daughter of the elderly guy gasped out.

“She’s going to have to go to the hospital, she has a collapsed lung, among other things,” The paramedic spoke. The other paramedic nodded.

Both of them taking you and the elderly man to the back of the ambulance van. Kyle following.

“I’ve never seen that woman in my life, let alone knew she was in the barn,” The women gasped out. Holding her father’s hand,

“Well, then your father knew, maybe tried to hide the evidence of his crime,” Kyle spat out. as they loaded you in then the elderly man. The women hopping in a well.

“I’m not leaving you alone with her,” Kyle growled out. hopping into the back of the ambulance van as well. One of the paramedics hopped in, while the other one shut the doors. Going over to the driver’s side. Opening the door and getting in. they closed the door. Starting the ambulance van, then switching the siren on as they speed off to the hospital. Pressing their foot hard on the pedal. All the while Kyle glared at the women. Praying the woman he thought that they abused was okay…

Kyle felt relief wash over him as the ambulance stopped in the emergency parking space.

The other paramedic rushing out of the driver’s side, opening the doors. Both of them taking out the stretchers.

“You are going to pay for this,” Kyle growled out before he exited the back of the ambulance van…

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

Kyle could hear his heart beating as every second went by. His chest felt heavy with anxiety, as he waited for a doctor or nurse to tell him the condition of the woman he saved. Or at least give him some sort of update. He had been waiting in the waiting room for hours.

Other people who were waiting as well, came and left.

He should have been at work, but he couldn't. He had to know the condition of the woman he saved, or at least her name.

Kyle heard footsteps approaching. Relief washed over him. thinking it was a doctor coming to inform him of the condition of the woman he saved, when he looked up it was his friend Adam, who happened to be a detective. Coming over to him.  

“Hey,” Kyle spoke, sitting up straighter. As Adam stood in front of him.

“Heard you made quite a scene,” Adam spoke. Arching an eyebrow.

“Well, you would to if you found a battered and bruised woman in a barn, that was set ablaze, for all I know he was trying to cover his crime up,” Kyle grumbled out. Adam sat beside him.

“You don’t know that Mr. William isn’t that type of person,” Adam Sighed.

“People surprise you, Adam, you should know that,” Kyle grumbled. Adam just raised his eyebrow.

“Look Kyle I get you want to be a hero but you can't accuse someone especially a burn victim of abusing a woman, we haven’t heard the entire story yet,” Adam sighed.

“Like I said before people surprise you,” Kyle grumbled. Adam let out a long sigh. Resting his hand on Kyle's shoulder and squeezing it.

“Let the evidenced do the talking. Just stay out of it,” Adam warned. Letting go of Kyle’s shoulder and getting up. Leaving Kyle to glare at his back as he walked to the nurse's station. Asking the nurse where the room of the woman Kyle found was located in. The nurse quickly gave Adam the number for the room. Giving him a flirty smile. Adam smirked at her. Sending a wink her way as he walked off. walking to the room.

Adam pushed the door open. Smirking as he saw Doctor Rhodes.

“Connor,” Adam smirked. as he took a step forward. His eyes looking at the woman in the bed. She looked awful. There was a bandage wrapped around her head. A scatter of scratches on her face. her lip was busted, her left arm was in a sling, and her left eye was swollen.

“Cole,” Connor responded not looking up from the tablet. It was no secret Adam and Connor butted heads. Connor wasn’t Adam’s biggest fan, and Adam wasn’t Connor’s biggest fan either.

“So, how’s the patient? Is she going to wake up soon, hopefully sometime soon?” Adam asked. Making Connor’s jaw tighten. “She’s been through a lot, I put her induced coma, she’s lucky she’s even alive, she has a collapsed lung, broken arm, head trauma, not to mention…” Connor listed off only to get cut off by an impatient Adam.

“Yeah, yeah, just give her something to wake her up, so I can get answers out of her, then you can put her back in an induce comma,” Adam grumbled. Looking at Connor intensely. Connor’s jaw ticked.

Connor let out an annoyed huff. Putting the tablet down. giving Adam his full attention. His eyes were lit with fury. Blood boiling.

“Get out,” Connor shouted. Making Adam smirk.

“She’s a suspect,” Adam smirked. riling Connor up.

“She’s a victim, and she’s my patient, I’m not waking her up so you can grill her, come back when she actually wakes up,” Connor shouted. Nostrils flaring.

“Well, are you going to give me a set date on when you are going to take her out of the comma?” Adam asked.

“I’ll get one of the nurses to inform you when she wakes up on her own accord, till now leave,” Connor growled. Making  Adam smirk. He turned around walking out of the room.

Connor let out a sigh. Walking over to you. His face edged with worry. He took a hold of your hand. His thumb caressing the back of your hand. His other hand went to your wrist, tracing the tattoo on your wrist. he knew that tattoo, he was there when you got it. Connor sat down on your bed beside you. Eyes filling with worry.

“Oh, y/n, what happened to you?” He sighed.

“I should have never left Chicago,” He spoke again, with so much sadness in his voice….

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

Connor starred at you intently. He had a feeling your ex might have caused this. Connor quickly let go of your hand when he heard the door to your room open. He quickly stood up. Pretending to look t the tablet. As a male nurse named Rhys walked in. Rhys smiled at him.

“How’s the patient?” Rhys asked. Going over to you.

Connor let out a small sigh. Looking at Rhys.

“Pretty much the same,” Connor replied.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you made the right choice putting her in an induced coma,”  Rhys spoke. Checking the wires that were connected to you.

“Let me guess Adam was complaining about it when he walked out?” Connor questioned. Making Rhys chuckle.

“Yep,” Rhys chuckled.

“Oh, Kyle is still in the waiting room, did you want me to inform him?” Rhys asked. Looking at Connor.

“No, it’s okay I will do it,” Connor responded. Making Rhys smile. Connor smiled at Rhys. Giving you one last longing glance. Before walking out of your room, and over to the waiting room.

Connor spotted Kyle. Making him let out a small sigh.

Connor smiled at Kyle as he made his way over to him.

“Kyle,” Connor greeted. Standing in front of Kyle.

“Is she okay? Is she awake?” Kyle asked frantically.

“She suffered a lot of brain trauma and I had to put her in an induced coma,” Connor replied.

Kyle looked down in defeat. Feeling like the whole world was closing around him.

“She’s in good hands,” Connor spoke. Giving Kyle a reassuring smile.

“Did you at least find out her name?” Kyle asked. Making Connor suck in a deep breath.

He knew who you were, but he just didn’t know if he should tell Kyle your name. The problem was Kyle was friends with Adam, who he hated, and who was a cop. Connor had a gut feeling your ex-boyfriend, who happened to be a cop did this to you.

“We don’t know, whoever hurt her removed her fingertips, and tried to make her unrecognizable,” Connor spoke. Making Kyle frown.

“You can see her if you want,” Connor spoke again. Seeing Kyle look deflated.

Kyle lifted his head. Eyes brightening with happiness. He got up.

“Thank you,” Kyle beamed. Connor gave Kyle a small smile.

Connor guided Kyle to your room. Opening the door for Kyle.

Kyle rushed in. Connor followed behind Kyle. Closing the door. Watching Kyle closely.

Kyle looked at you with a pained expression. Walking over to you. Taking in your appearance. It was all too overwhelming. Tears collected in his eyes.

He took a huge gulp before speaking.

“Don’t worry, my friend is a cop, and he will find out who hurt you,” Kyle promised you.

“Or side with her ex,” Connor thought to himself.

Kyle was about to sit down when his phone let out a ping. He quickly fished it out of his pocket. Looking at the phone screen. He had to go back to work. He looked at you then at the screen. Letting out a defeated sigh.

“Can I visit her again after my shift ends?” Kyle asked as he got up.

“Sure,” Connor replied. Smiling at Kyle. Kyle gave you one last final glance before walking out of the room reluctantly….

Adam parked his car next to Roddy’s car. Turning the car off and putting it in park. He put the hand brake up. Taking the car keys out of the ignition. Adam opened the door, stepping out of his car.

Roddy quickly walked up to him. Handing him some disposable gloves.

“Any evidence bagged yet?” Adam asked. As the two of them walked over to the burnt-down barn.

“No, everything is burnt,” Roddy spoke. Adam let out a grunt of annoyance.

He was about to speak, but the sound of a car engine coming towards them. Made him turn his attention towards the noise.

Adam saw Kyle get out of a taxi. Giving the taxi driver a couple of notes through the window.

Bobby quickly walked up to Kyle. Greeting Kyle.

“Hey man, how is she?” Bobby asked. Giving Kyle a big hug.

“In a coma,” Kyle responded. As Bobby pulled away.

“I’m sure she will pull through,” Bobby spoke. Putting his hand on Kyle’s shoulder.

Whatever Kyle was about to say was interrupted by the sound of someone talking.

“I found something,” Another cop spoke. Near the wooden fence.

Roddy, Adam, Bobby, and Kyle quickly rushed over.

The cop pointed at the fence. Adam smirked as he saw blood on the wooden fence. He felt confident it was the mystery woman that was lying in the hospital and that Mr. William didn’t hold the woman captive as Kyle claimed.

Adam turned to Kyle with a smug look. Making Kyle narrow his eyes slightly. Bobby and Roddy looked back and forth between Adam and Kyle.

“There's your evidence that Mr. William didn’t hold the woman hostage,” Adam spoke smugly. Making Kyle’s jaw clench slightly.

Adam turned his attention back to the cop.

“Bag it,” He spoke before walking off. Kyle glared at the back of Adam’s head.

It could be the blood of the woman he rescued or an injured animal, he thought to himself…

Chapter Text

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

It’s been two weeks since they found a bloody and bruised woman in Mr. William's barn.

Adam exhausted all leads. The blood they found wasn’t human, it was animal blood.

Adam tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk. Looking at the results from the blood they found two weeks ago. He put the piece of paper down. Letting out a frustrated groan.

“How about we get a warrant or something so we can get her blood?” Roddy suggested. Looking up from the PC screen.

“I have a better idea, we wake her up, grill her till she breaks,” Adam suggested. Making Roddy look at him with concern.

“Are you sure?” Roddy asked. Voice laced with concern.

“Unless you want an innocent man wrongly accused, we have no other choice, plus I think it’s time for her to wake up, I’m sure she would remember now, she’s been in a coma for two weeks,”

“How do you know she will remain; they say she has had brain trauma,” Roddy spoke.

“Because it is our only option,” Adam grumbled. Getting up and grabbing his coat. Roddy let out a sigh. Getting up and following Adam…

__________________________________________

 Kyle smiled at the barista as she handed him a water bottle and a sandwich he ordered. He turned around, only to bump into a woman.

“Sorry,” Kyle apologized. Giving her a small smile. His smile dropped as he realized who it was. It was Mr. Williams, daughter.

“You should be, because of you everyone in this town thinks my father hurt that woman, that he held her hostage, that he tortured her,” She growled out. Tears collecting in her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Or if she, did it must have been a few hours. She had dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Well, what else was I supposed to think, she was injured,”  Kyle snapped.

“Are you just being petty because I broke up with you?” She growled out. Through clenched teeth.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Kyle snapped. Glaring at her.

“Well, I hope you are proud of yourself, my father literally had a heart attack,” She snapped. Spinning on her heel and walking away…

__________________________________________

 Adam walked into the hospital. Looking around the hospital in search of Connor. Adam walked over to the nurse's station. Smirking as he saw it was the nurse that always flirts with him. Roddy followed behind him.

“Where’s Doctor Rhodes?” Adam asked her.

“In surgery why?” She asked. Batting her eyelashes.

“No reason,” Adam smirked. Giving her a charming smile before turning around and walking to the unknown woman’s room.

Adam looked around before entering the room. Seeing if the coast was clear. Roddy followed behind him feeling slightly unsure if they should do this. He tried to talk Adam out of it on the way to the hospital, but Adam didn’t listen.

Adam took out a needle, with a liquid substance.

“Where did you get that from?” Roddy asked. Eyes widen in shock.

“A friend,” Adam responded. Walking over to you. He took the cap off the needle. Putting the needle into your cannula.

Adam smirked as he put the liquid substance into you. Roddy felt his heart rate quicken. Gulping as he felt like this was all a bad idea.

Your eyes opened wide. Looking around the room to see two male figures looking at you. You saw two figures standing there. Eyes widen in fear as you saw a police badge on their uniforms. Your mind quickly flashed to the nightmares you were having. The guy who beat you up had a badge. The sound of the machine monitor beeped loudly and rapidly. Roddy felt worried thinking it was the liquid substance that was affecting you. Maybe you were having an allergic reaction…

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

 Adam got up in your face. Making you gulp hard.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Adam demanded. Making you move your head to the side. Adam’s eyes sparkled dangerously. He grabbed your chin hard. Roughly pulling your head to face him. The sound of the machine beeped faster making Roddy panic.

“Dude, just leave her alone,” Roddy sighed. Grabbing Adam’s shoulder and trying to pull him away. But Adam fought against him. Shrugging him off.

You tried to reach out to the button. But Adam grabbed your hand tightly. Making you whimper. Tears gathered in your eyes. As your heart rate speed up the machine beeped frantically.

Was he going to hurt you like that other cop was doing in those dreams you had?

“Tell me,” Adam demanded.

“I don’t remember,” You weakly gasped out. voice trembling with fear.

“Adam,” Roddy warned. Feeling worried about your safety. Yes, they needed answers. But scaring you to answer wasn’t the right solution.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Connor shouted. Looking at Adam and Roddy with fury in his eyes, but mainly Adam.

“Just getting answers, I mean it’s been two weeks since she came here, I want to know who our mystery woman is, don’t you?” Adam smugly spoke. Making Connor’s blood boil. While Roddy just shook his head disapprovingly.

“Are you insane, she has had a traumatic brain injury, she needs rest,” Connor growled out. Taking a step closer to you. Adam let go of you. making your heart rate decrease. You cast your gaze down.

“She woke up on her own,” Adam spoke. Connor gave Adam a sarcastic smile. Not believing a word he just spoke. Roddy shook his head no.

“I’m sure she did. Get out,” Connor spat out. Making Adam smirk smugly.

“I’ll find answers, and if you get in the way again I won’t hesitate in charging you,” Adam threatened. Glaring at Connor. Connor glared back at him.

Adam broke eye contact smirking.

“Come on, Roddy, see you later sweetheart,” Adam spoke sweetly. Patting your hair. Making you flinch.

Adam smirked at Connor as Roddy and he walked out of the door.

A whimper caught Connor’s attention.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Eyes full of worry. He quickly checked on you.

You looked at him intensely. Studying his features. He was gorgeous. You felt your breath hitch as he leaned closer. Shining his torch in your eyes.

He was about to speak but you cut him. Something about him made you want to tell him the reoccurring dream you kept having while sleeping. Well, it was more like a nightmare. Like he would keep you safe. that you could trust him. Heck, you would tell him your darkest secrets if you could remember them.

“I think I know who hurt me… when I was asleep, I kept having these vivid images of this guy attacking me. He hurt me so cruelly. And I saw a police badge,” You confessed. Your voice was above a whisper.

Connor looked at you with a heartbroken expression. Making your forehead crease with confusion. Why was he looking at you like that?

He grabbed your hand. Sitting down on the bed. His eyes gathering with tears.

“I don’t want to freak you out too much, but…” Connor spoke. Taking a deep breath before he spoke again.

“I know you; I know who did this to you,” He confessed. Making your breath hitch. Your mouth opening in shock. Eyes locked onto his.

“What’s my name?” You barely gasped out but he heard you somehow.

“Y/n l/n,” He responded.

“I’ll tell you anything, whatever you want to know I will tell you,” Connor spoke, looking at you with concern in his eyes…

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

You looked at Connor in shock. Your brain processing the words Connor spoke. Connor looked at you with a worried expression. While you looked down at the sheets.

You looked up at him. Parting your lips.

“Tell me more,” You gasped out. Heart beating faster.

Connor let out a sigh. Inching closer to you.

“You are from Chicago,” Connor started to say. Smiling slightly.

“You have two brothers, Will and Jay. Jay is actually your twin,” Connor told you.

“Twin? I’m a twin,” You gasped out in disbelief. Making Connor smile.

“Not identical though,” Connor chuckled. As a small smile graced your lips.

“You did have a boyfriend, but you dumped him, then got together with another man, which no one knows what he looks like, other than his name, which is Roman,” Connor spoke again.

“Oh, do you think he did this to me?” You asked. Heart plummeting as you waited for his response.

Connor let out a sigh. Casting his eyes down. his thumb absently caressing his thumb across the tattoo on your wrist. your eyes traveled down to where his thumb was. Sparks igniting in your body at his touch.

“ I think he did, I wouldn’t put it past him,” Connor finally spoke. Looking up at you. making your breath hitch.

“But the guy I saw in my dreams had a badge,” You gasped out.

“Yeah, your ex was a cop, wait you had dreams about what happened to you?” Connor spoke.

“Yeah,” You spoke quietly. Connor looked at you with concerned eyes.

“Your brother is a detective, didn’t like your ex-boyfriend, thought he was a corrupt cop,” Connor told you.

“Will or Jay?” You asked.

“Jay, Will is a doctor, and well you are a nurse, Will also hated your ex as well,” Connor replied. As you looked at him. Hanging on his every word.

You didn’t want to hear more about your abusive ex, so you changed the subject.

“What about us? How do we know each other?” You asked. This question seemed to throw Connor off guard. He looked at you with wide eyes. A shocked expression on his face. You raised your eyebrow at him.  Wanting to know why he had that reaction.

It made you want to know the answer even more. Obliviously something went down between the two of you. Since he got nervous under your gaze. He looked away, delaying his response.

“I didn’t ask how you are feeling?” Connor asked. Avoiding your question by asking a question of his own.

This made you want to know even more.

“I’m fine, but you didn’t answer my question,” You spoke.

Connor ignored the last word you spoke. Taking his stethoscope from around his neck. He put the earplugs in his ear. Grabbing hold of the bell. Bringing it towards your chest. You grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Connor’s breath hitched at the contact of your skin on his.

He took a deep breath before speaking. Avoiding eye contact.

“We were friends… best friends,” Connor spoke. You gave him a confused look at how he was reacting. And how long it took him to reply.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Connor beat you to it.

“It’s complicated, we are best friends, but we had a friend with benefits kind of relationship as well, then it went downhill, then I left,” Connor spoke. Still avoiding your gaze. He looked sad.

“Because of me?” You asked. Voice-breaking. This made Connor finally look at you.

“No,” He responded.

“It wasn’t your fault, I didn’t leave because of you,” Connor spoke again. Grabbing a hold of your hand. Both of you gazing into each other’s eyes.

Just as you were about to speak the door opened. Making Connor get up. He stood up. Looking professional, as the nurse made her way into your room.

She arched her eyebrow at Connor.

“Just checking on our mystery patient,” Connor spoke.

“Your up,” She spoke. Directing her gaze at you, then back at Connor when he spoke.

“No thanks to Cole,” Connor grumbled. The nurse gave a forced smile. You could tell it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Doctor Cooper wants you for a consultant on one of his cases,” She spoke. Giving Connor a fake smile. Connor looked annoyed. He gave her a fake smile too. Before looking at you. Giving you a genuine smile.  You could sense the tension between them.

“I’ll see you later,” He spoke. Giving you a sincere smile, before walking out of the room.

“So… what were Doctor Rhodes and you talking about?” She asked.

‘Not much, just asked if I could remember what my name was as well as if I could remember what happened to me?” You spoke. Lying to her. As she checked in on you.

“He seemed pretty close,” She spoke.

“He was just checking in on me,” You spoke. Making her give you a fake smile.

“Okay, I’ll check in on you later,” She responded. Giving you another fake smile, as she exited the room.

She quickly walked over to the nurse's station. Taking out her phone. Unlocking her phone. She quickly went into the messaging app. Pressing the conversation she had with Adam.

No budge. Though Connor and she seem pretty close She sent to him…

 Adam gripped his phone tighter as he reread the message over again. He let out a grunt of annoyance. He was about to reply when the door to his office opened. Mr. Williams Daughter storming in. Roddy trailing behind her. Adam gave her a forced smile. Adam placed his phone on his desk.

“How can I help you?” Adam asked.

“Of course you are just sitting there doing nothing, you should be grilling that woman,” She snapped. Fists clenched.

“The truth will come out, we are doing everything we can, ” Roddy reassured her. But she just turned around to face him. giving him a deadly glare.

“My dad isn’t a kidnapper or abuser,” She snapped. Storming out of the office.

Adam picked up his phone. Typing a message furiously.

Spy on them. Listen in on their conversations, report back to me.

Adam smirked as he sent the message. He would find out who that woman was…

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

Kyle felt anxious as he walked into the hospital. Fidgeting with his fingers. He heard through the grapevine, well Adam, the woman he saved was awake. Kyle wanted to visit her, to see how she was.

He walked over to the nurse’s station. He smiled nervously at the nurse. Who happened to be the nurse Adam flirted with.

She gave him a fake smile, which didn’t ease his nerves.

“Let me guess, you are here to see the woman you saved,” She spoke. Giving him a teasing smile.

“Yeah, I heard she was awake,” Kyle spoke.

“You can go see her,” The nurse spoke Kyle gave her a small smile, before turning around and walking to your room.

The sound of the door creaking made you snap your head away from the TV screen to look at the person who entered your room. You hoped it was Dr. Rhodes. But it turned out to be a stranger. You gave him an anxious look as you took in his features. He had brown eyes, a red beard, or maybe it was auburn and brown hair.

Kyle took notice of you looking at him cautiously.

“I’m Kyle, I saved you from the burning barn,” He spoke gently.

“Oh, well, I would tell you my name, if I could remember it,” You lied. You did know your name, you just didn’t know who you could trust other than Doctor Rhodes, which he is yet to tell you his first name.

Kyle let out a chuckle. Grabbing the chair and bringing it to the side of your bed. He sat down. Grimacing at the discomfort. Making you arch an eyebrow.

“You look better than when I first saw you,” Kyle spoke softly.

“Mmm, I don’t feel it, my head is pounding, I look like I’ve been through hell,” You whined. Pouting at him. Kyle smiled.

“But you are alive, that’s the most important thing,” Kyle spoke.

“I suppose, but my head is killing me,” You whined.

“Do you want me to go get a nurse? Maybe they can give you something?” Kyle spoke in a worried tone.

“Nah, pretty sure she hates me, I’ll be fine,” You gasped out. Bringing your uninjured hand up to your forehead.

Kyle felt his heart hurt as he watched you wince in pain.

“Do you remember anything?” He asked. His tone was sweet and caring.

“Just running through bushes and trees, then seeing the barn,” You reply. Eyes widening as you realized you might have revealed too much. Maybe it was how he asked you. Maybe it was those brown eyes staring intently into your soul.

Before Kyle or you could utter a single word the door to the room opened.

“Hey, y/n we’ve…” Connor started to say but stopped when he saw Kyle sitting next to your bed. Jealousy spiked inside of him. His jaw slightly clenching. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed by you. Maybe Kyle but not you.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had visitors,” Connor spoke.

“I just heard she was up, and I wanted to check in on her,” Kyle nervously replied. It was cute. Connor gave Kyle a forced smile.

Kyle seemed nervous.

“Um, I’ll see you soon,” Kyle spoke. Looking at you with a nervous smile, as he got up. You gave him a small smile in return. Watching him walk out of the room.

Your gaze returned to Connor. Giving him a pointed look.

“You seem jealous,” You pointed out.

“I’m not, I’m just worried,” Connor spoke defensively.

“Mmmhm…” You responded. Letting out a gasp of pain as your head throbbed.

Connor rushed over to you. Panic evident on his face.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked.

“Other than feeling pain in my head and body, yeah, I’m peachy,” You grunted.

“Carson is supposed to be giving you pain meds, damn it,” Connor grumbled at the nurse’s failure.

You gave him a quizzical look. Who was Carson?

‘Who’s Carson?” You asked. Voice sounding harsher than it was meant to be.

“The nurse that comes and checks in on you,” Connor responded.

“Oh,” You mumbled.

“I was going to clear you, but…” Connor started to say but you cut him off.

“I’m fine, it’s just pain,” You cut Connor off.

“You have had a traumatic experience,” Connor explained.

“I’m fine,” You huffed out. You would cross your arms if you could. So instead, you just pouted like a toddler who didn’t get their way.

Connor was about to speak but you cut him off.

“Please, clear me, I can’t take the taste of hospital food anymore, I mean the ice cream is great, don’t get me wrong, it’s the only highlight, but I’m bored sitting here,” You whined. Making your headache even worse.

“Ouch, and here I thought I was great company,” Connor fake sighed.

“You are…It’s just this hospital is driving me insane,” You huffed out.

“You’ve only had hospital four times,” Connor chuckled. While you just intensified your gaze. Pouting at him.

“Okay, fine, I’ll run a few tests before I give you the all-clear,” Connor spoke.

“Can’t we skip the tests?” You begged. Giving him a puppy dog look.

“Tests or hospital food for another week,” Connor spoke sternly. Making you let out a whine.

“Fine,” You sighed.

“And you are staying with me when I discharge you,” Connor spoke. Making your heart skip a beat.

Neither Connor nor you noticing Carson outside the door. She took her phone out of her pocket. Unlocking it. She quickly went into the messaging app. Clicking on the messages she had with Adam.

She’s being discharged. Staying with Connor. Kyle visited her btw, maybe you can use him as a pawn to find more about her.

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

After hours of CAT scans, MRI scans, CT scans, an echo, blood testes among other tests, among other tests, you were grateful that you didn’t have to take anymore. All you had to do was wait for the results.

Connor walked into the room with a huge smile on his face. Holding a bunch of clothes in his hands. you quirked an eyebrow.

“I got the results back, and you are in the clear, there were a few things that were a bit concerning but as long as you get psychotherapy to gain some of your memory back,” Connor spoke. As you smiled brightly at him. You sat up.

“Finally,” You beamed.

“I got a nurse to get you some clothes to change into, I got Rhys to buy some for you,” Connor spoke.

“Oh,” You spoke. Having no idea who Rhys was.

“He is one of the nurses who work here, and my friend,” Connor spoke. Connor placed the clothes on the bed. As you pushed the blanket back.

Connor’s hand rested on your lower back as you tried to get up. Connor assisted you.

He felt panic rise inside of him as you wobbled a bit. Your hand grabbed his arm for balance.

“Are you going to help me change?” You joked. Making Connor’s face turn red. He awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you need help? Because I can get a nurse to help you,” Connor spoke.

“I’ll be fine,” You responded. Giving him a small smile.

Connor arched his eyebrow at you. Looking at where your hand was holding his arm for support.

You quickly took your hand away from his arm. Feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Alright, I will go get my stuff, then come back,” Connor spoke. Giving you one last longing glance, before walking out of your room.

You slowly took small steps towards the clothes. Slowly undoing the hospital gown. You cautiously put the clothes on that Connor gave you.

Just as you put the sweater on there was a knock at the door. Making you turn around.

“Come in,” You called out. Connor walked into the room. An amused smile gracing his lips as he held onto the strap. Keeping it from slipping. He was dressed in dark jeans, a top, and a black leather jacket. You quickly adverted your eyes back to his.

“Don’t laugh, It’s not my fault I have a sling,” You spoke in a pouty tone. Pouting at him. Connor let out a laugh. Walking closer to you.

“I’m not, I just think you look adorable, I discharged you while I was waiting for you to get changed,” Connor spoke.

“What would I do without you,” You jokingly spoke.

Not get beaten up by your toxic abusive ex-boyfriend, Connor thought to himself. He wanted to say that, but instead, he said something else.

“You ready to go?” Connor asked. Making you nod enthusiastically.  He quickly walked to the door opening it for you.

You quickly walked towards him.

“Thank you,”  You spoke. As you walked past him and out the door. Connor followed behind you. Catching up with you. you followed him out of the hospital and towards a car park. Which you assumed it must have been staff parking.

Connor took out his car keys. Stopping at his car.  He quickly unlocked the car.

“Fancy car,” You commented on his car. Connor let out a chuckle. 

“Well, it’s nowhere near as cool as what your car is,” Connor spoke.

“Shame I can’t remember it,” You sighed. Pouting at him.

“It was a Jeep Wrangler, the newer version,” He responded. Opening the car door for you.

“And he is a gentleman too,” You praised him. Making his cheeks blush. You may not remember the history he and you shared, but he did.

You quickly got in. Connor shut the door. Rushing over to the driver's side. Getting in and putting his bag in the back. Connor put the keys in the ignition. Turning the car on. Putting his seat belt on. Connor put the handbrake down, then put the car into reverse. Backing out of the car park. He put the car into gear then speed off.

Connor glanced at you now and then seeing you take in the surroundings. Connor smiled slightly. His heart hurting at what you have been through. He wishes he stayed in Chicago, he wished you at least called him and told him what your ex did to you.

Connor drove into a driveway of an apartment complex. Stopping in front of a garage.

“You live in here,” You gasped out. Mouth a gap.

“Yep,” Connor chuckled. Grabbing a remote from the center console. He pressed a button making the garage door roll up. Connor drove in. Pressing the closed button on the remote button. The roller door closed.

Connor chuckled at your reaction. Finding a parking spot. He quickly parked in the spot. Putting the car into park. He pulled the handbrake up. Turning the car off. Connor turned his body. Reaching in the back to grab his bag. While you exited the car. Connor took the keys out of the ignition. Getting out of the car. He quickly got out. locking the car.

“Come on, I will make you a nice dinner,” Connor spoke softly. You quickly followed Connor. Stopping behind him as he pressed the elevator button. The elevator chimed, as the doors opened.

Both of you walking in. Connor pressed the button to the top floor.

“So, is anyone living with you like a significant other?” You questioned.

Connor shook his head no.

“I haven’t been in the dating scene or been with anyone since Chicago,” Connor spoke awkwardly. The air in the elevator getting thicker.

“Really,  because your hot and a doctor, plus you seem nice, least with me,” You spoke. Connor gave you a small smile.

The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor. Connor quickly exited the elevator. You quickly followed him. walking down the hallway in silence.

You felt slightly worried you may have stepped over a line.

“I’m sorry about that, I just…” You apologized only for Connor to cut you off. As he stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Taking out keys. He put them into the keyhole. Turning it.

“It’s okay,” Connor spoke. As he grabbed the doorknob, twisting the doorknob. Opening the door.

“I…Wow,” You gasped out as you saw the city lights out of the window.

“So pretty,” You gawked out. Rushing over to the window. Connor let out an amused chuckle. Shutting the door and locking it.

You looked around the apartment in amazement. Connor let out a laugh.

“I’ll show you the room you will be staying in, it has a bathroom,” Connor spoke, as he walked over to a room. Opening a door.

“A bathroom, wow,” You beamed. Rushing over to the room.

Connor smiled at your reaction. He quickly looked away.

“Why don’t you have a shower, I still have clothes of yours that you can change into,” Connor spoke.

“You kept my clothes?” You asked. Arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, from when you left them at my old place,” Connor mumbled. Cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Why was he embarrassed he knew you.

“Thank you,” You spoke softly. Smiling at him softly.

“I’m going to make us dinner, clean towels are in the cupboard, Oh, and your clothes are in the tallboy,” He spoke, quickly turning around and walking out the room. Your heart beating wildly.

You couldn’t remember what you had with him, or any previous relationship, but for some reason Connor made you feel something. You felt a spark there.

“He is a doctor and can cook, damn, I missed the mark on that one,” You spoke in a dreamy tone.

You let out a heavy sigh walking into the bathroom. Closing the door. Stripping your clothes off.

Your eyes widen as you realized you have a sling on you. A curse slipped from your lips

“Ah, Connor I have a sling, could you get me a plastic bag,” You yelled out. Waiting for him to respond. But he didn’t.

You looked around the bathroom. Noticing a bathtub.

“I suppose having a bath will do,” You huffed out. struggling to take the rest of your clothes up. But eventually, you got there.

You walked over to the bathtub. Turning both taps on. Checking the temperature. Letting out a satisfied hum when it was the right temperature You put the plugin. Grabbing the shower gel. You squirted a bit in the water. Putting the bottle of shower gel down. You waited for the water to get a certain height; you turned the taps off. Carefully getting into the bathtub…

Connor tried to distract himself with making Spaghetti Carbonara, chopping up mushrooms, and bacon into little bits but failed miserably. You were invading his thoughts. It was killing him how he couldn’t just kiss you, but you didn’t have your memories of what he and you shared, and he didn’t want to scare you, let alone start something knowing you still had a boyfriend.

The spaghetti was already strained. All he had to do was put the sauce in. He poured the sauce into the pot. Putting the mushrooms into the sauce as well as the bacon.

Connor stirred the carbonara sauce around in the pot. Warming the sauce up. His mind wandering back to a memory he had with you.

A giggle escaped your lips as Connor’s beard scratched your neck, as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“We should just call in sick and do this all day,” You suggested. Making Connor look up at you tilting his head. He raised one of his eyebrows. Smirking at you.

“That’s a good idea,” Connor smirked. Pressing his lips against yours. The kiss turning feverish…

“I’m finished,” You spoke, in a sing-song voice. Making Connor jump. He quickly composed himself.

“Oh, smells nice,” You commented.

“Um…” Connor stuttered. He quickly checked if the sauce was warm. Thankful that it was.

“You okay?” You asked. Curious and worried.

“Yeah, you surprised me,” He spoke. Pouring the sauce into the pot that was filled with spaghetti. Connor quickly stirred the sauce around in the pot. Mixing the Carbonaro sauce with the spaghetti.

“Dinners ready,” Connor announced. Walking over to a cupboard. He opened it up, grabbing out two bowls. Connor went over to a draw. Pulling it open. He grabbed two forks. Connor turned around. Walking back to you. he quickly picked the spoon he was using. Putting the food into the bowl, before handing it to you.

“Thank you,” You spoke softly. walking over to the table. Connor joined you a second later.

“So, you said I have brothers what do they look like?” You asked. Breaking the silence.

“Well,” Connor spoke. Kind of getting caught off guard. He put his fork down, grabbing his phone.

Connor unlocked his phone, going into the photo app. He quickly pressed the see all option, scrolling until he found the album titled y/n with a red heart emoji. He quickly pressed that album. Scrolling until he found the picture of Jay, Will and you. While you ate more food.

“You were closer with Jay,” Connor spoke. Showing you the picture. You leaned in closer taking in the features of your brothers. One had brown hair and blue eyes while the other one had red hair with brown eyes.

“Because we were twins?” You asked.

“Probably, he and you had a weird co-dependent type of relationship, which surprises me, that he didn’t know who your mystery boyfriend Roman was,” Connor spoke. Making your eyes squint slightly. Trying to remember what Roman looked like, as well as memories with your brothers but nothing came up. You just made yourself get a headache.

“That’s Jay…” Connor spoke, pointing to the guy with brown hair and blue eyes.

“My twin,” You mumbled. But Connor heard you.

“Yep… And that’s Will,” Connor spoke again. Pointing to the guy with the red hair and brown eyes.

Connor noticed you grimace a bit. Your hand coming up to your forehead. Rubbing it.

“You okay?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, just tried to remember who they were, plus Roman,” You spoke. Rubbing your forehead.

“Leave that to psychotherapy,” Connor spoke. Giving you a small smile. Which you returned it by also giving him a slight smile.

The both of you ate in silence again. After dinner, Connor grabbed the plates, cutlery and pots, putting them in the dishwasher. He went over to the cupboard again. Grabbing a glass. Walking over to the sink. He turned the tap on. Pouring some water into the glass. He walked over to you handing you the glass of water.

“Thanks,” You mumbled. As he walked back to the kitchen island, grabbing a pack of tablets. He opened the box up. Popping two tablets into the palm of his hand, then spinning around. He walked back to you. Handing you the tablets.

“Oh, I’m fine,” You spoke.

“It’s your pain meds,” He spoke.

“Oh,” You spoke. Taking them off of him. you put them in your mouth. Taking a huge gulp of water. As you swallowed them. Grimacing at the aftertaste.

Connor let out a small chuckle.

“You’ve never been good with taking medicine or tablets,” Connor chuckled. His blue eyes staring intensely into your eyes. The intensity causes your lower belly to stir. Breath hitching. You may not remember whatever happened between him and you, but your body sure does.

“So, are you going to tell me more about your scandalous friendship?” You asked. Taking Connor off guard. He turned pale. Beads of sweat forming on his hairline. He scratched the back of his nervously.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked changing the subject.

“Let’s watch a movie,” He spoke. Rushing over to the joint living room. He turned the TV on. Going into Netflix. He quickly picked a movie.

“Okay…” You responded. Getting up and walking over to him cautiously. Sitting down on the same couch he was sitting in. wondering if you may have asked a touchy subject by he reacted. Maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it, maybe it hurt him to bring up the past. But the more you thought about the more you wanted to know more about what happened between him and you.

So you decided to try something. Connor didn’t notice you move closer to him. till he felt your body heat.

Connor turned to look at you. Your hands cupped his jawline. Eyes looking at his intensely. Closing the distance between him and you. Connor was hypnotized. Maybe it was because it has been too long since he felt his lips against yours. But he let you kiss him.

Lips moving together in perfect sync. Both of you feeling the spark. Warmth feeling the both of you. butterflies

Connor quickly realized what you were doing. What he was doing too. He pulled away. A look of pain came across his features. Your face dropped into a look of sadness.

“I can’t go down that road not when you are with another man, and not when you can’t remember the history between us,” Connor quaked out. tears pooling in his eyes.

“How am I supposed to remember someone I have no recognition of, let alone a relationship? I feel something with you it seems familiar,” You gasped out. Tears gathering in your eyes. It broke his heart to see you cry. But he needed you to remember him. it wasn’t fair on him nor you.

“I can’t,” He gasped out. turning around and feeling to a room. He shut the door. Sliding down it. While you sat on the couch. Falling back on the cushions. Bringing your knees up to your chest, and hugging them for reassurance….

  • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••   

You let out a heavy sigh as you heard the front door of his apartment close softly.

Carefully pulling the blanket and sheet off your body. Getting up. You walked to the bathroom. Stripping your clothes off. Turning the bathroom taps on. Putting the plug in. filling the bathtub up with warm water, as well as putting shower gel in the water.

You grabbed a washcloth. Stepping inside the water. Cleaning yourself off. Once you finished cleaning yourself, you got out. Pulling the plug out. The water going down the drain. You wrapped the towel around you. Drying yourself off. Then wrapped the towel around you again. You quickly went over to the basin. Brushing your teeth, then cleaning your tongue.

Once you finished cleaning your teeth, you walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Walking over to the tallboy. Opening the draw, that seemed to have your clothes. It hurt your heart that he kept your clothes, yet he doesn’t want to kiss you. You grabbed a pair of panties. Dropping the towel. You put them on with great difficulty. As well as the rest of the clothes. The jeans were the worst.

You let out a sigh of relief. Walking out of the guest bedroom. You saw a note on the kitchen island counter. Walking over to the counter. Reading the words on the note.  Your psychotherapy appointment is tomorrow at 11 am.

You let out a sigh, dropping the piece of paper. He could have just told you that in person and not left it on a note. You needed air. But you didn’t have the keys to the place. You thought about it for a second before deciding to leave. It was the last unit on the top floor, and you could just wait by the door anyways.

You left his apartment. Closing the door. Walking towards the elevator. You pressed a button. Making the elevator make a noise as it went up to the top floor. Doors opening. You quickly rushed into the elevator. You pressed the lobby button. The doors slide closed. The elevator descended, till it reached the lobby. Making a chiming sound. The doors sliding open. You quickly exited. Sidestepping a woman, as she got into the elevator. You felt a little self-conscious as some people in the lobby stared at you. You felt a little relieved as you exited the apartment complex. You looked back at the building to see a name, but it had no name.

“Great,” You muttered to yourself. You hoped you didn’t get lost.

A cool hitting your face. You slowly walked down the sidewalk. Taking in the buildings and stores.

You weren’t really watching where you were going. Running into a woman and a stand of flowers. The flowers cluttering to the floor. The woman cursed.

You got up. Helping her out. The best you could.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized profusely. The woman took a good look at you before letting out an annoyed huff. Making you grumble.

“Course it’s you. Haven’t you done enough?” She snapped. You looked at her confused. Feeling slightly hurt by her words.

You were about to speak when you heard a familiar voice.

“Seriously, Norah, you don’t have to be a bitch, it’s not like she purposely set out to wreck your flowers,” Kyle snapped. Making Norah look at him. Clenching her jaw. Eyes narrowing into slits. You could tell something happened between the two of them.

“Of course, you would defend her, my father isn’t an abuser, he didn’t do this to her,” She growled out. Storming into the flower shop.

“She hates me,” You sighed. Kyle moved to stand in front of you.

“Don’t worry about her, do you want to go get coffee?” Kyle asked. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“On a date?” You asked. Arching an eyebrow. This simple gesture made Kyle’s heart race,

“Just as a get-to-know basis?” Kyle responded. Making you give him a small smile.

“Aren’t you working?” You asked.

“My shift isn’t until later on,” He spoke. Making you smile.

“Okay,” You agreed. Kyle flashed you a smile.

Both of you walked towards a small coffee shop. Taking a seat on one of the outdoor chairs.

“Say if it was a date would you say yes?” Kyle asked. Making you look at him in surprise.

“Well….I mean….I could be in a relationship or married,” You gasped out.

Kyle looked at your left hand. Seeing no ring occupied it.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” He replied cheekily. Making you let out a tiny chuckle.

“True… could have slipped off,” You spoke. Making Kyle frown. Before he smiled again. He was about to speak when a waitress came up to the table. Handing Kyle and you a menu each. Kyle and you smiled at her.

“Thank you,” Kyle and you both spoke at the same time.

Both of you looked at the menu, then ordered. The waitress wrote down Kyle’s order as well as yours. Taking the menus from Kyle and you. Telling the two of you that the coffees should be out soon. Then left to go inside the coffee shop

“So… what’s up WITH Norah and you? I mean I get she hates me because of that whole thing with her father, but I feel like there was something more, I felt tension?” You asked. Kyle let out a heavy sigh.

‘She is my ex, long story short, it was a horrible relationship,” Kyle explained. You gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” You spoke.

“It’s not your fault, we were young and stupid,” Kyle sighed.

The waitress came back with two cups of coffee. Placing them down on the table in front of Kyle and you.

Kyle and you thanked her. Taking a sip of coffee.

“Y/n,” Connor gasped out frantically. Making you turn around. You gave him a slight smile. He looked frantic. Eyes full of worry. Hair was disheveled.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Connor gasped out. While Kyle raised his eyebrow. What has Connor your keeper?

Connor felt intense amounts of jealousy when he saw Kyle and you sipping coffee.

He knew he had no right to get jealous since he rejected your advances last night. But it was only because he wanted you to remember him. Remember what the two of you shared before he goes down that road again or tries something.

You quickly finished your coffee. Giving Kyle an apologetic smile. You got up.

“I’ll see you around,” You spoke. Giving him a soft smile. You turned around. Walking over to Connor.

Connor and you walked away. Leaving jealousy to boil in Kyle’s veins. He felt so crushed as he watched you walk off with Connor….

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••  

Adam bought the tip of the beer bottle up to his lips. Wrapping his lips around the tip. Tipping of the bottle up. He chugged on the beer. Giving Roddy a nod, as he sat down on the couch next to him

“Well, today was exhausting,” Roddy sighed. Taking a sip of the beer.

“Yeah, still haven’t made progress with that case,” Adam grumbled.

Roddy grabbed Adam’s knee in a comforting gesture.

“We will find out who she is,” Roddy reassured Adam.

“Hopefully soon,” Adam grumbled. Taking another sip.

Roddy and Adam’s attention turned to the door, as Bobby and Kyle came through the door.

“How was work?” Roddy asked as they dumped the duffle bags they took to work near the hallway

“Eventful,” Kyle sighed.

“You’d think people would learn to turn the heater off by now,” Bobby sighed. As he sat down on one of the chairs. While Kyle walked towards the kitchen to grab beers for him and Bobby.

Kyle came back into the living room. Handing Bobby a beer. Sitting down on the couch. He looking dejected. Kyle twisted the cap off the beer bottle. Adam took notice of his friend's mood.

“Why do you look so down?” Adam asked.

“That woman we found in that barn fire on Mr. Williams farm, I had a coffee date with her, but then Connor came, and swooped her away. She must be staying with him, it’s not like I stand a chance against him,” Kyle huffed out. Feeling slightly better he got that off his chest,

Adam had to stop himself from smiling as he thought of an idea. He could finally find out the identity of that woman.

“You should ask her out again, woo her until she falls for you,” Adam encouraged. Kyle furrowed his eyebrows.

“I suppose,” Kyle sighed. Still not convinced. For one he didn’t have your number. He knew where Connor lived. But he didn’t want to seem desperate.

“Come on man, you’re a catch, don’t put yourself down,” Bobby reassured Kyle.

“I’m sure she sees nothing in Connor, isn’t he, her doctor? Bit unprofessional if he is still her doctor,” Roddy spoke.

“I don’t know they seemed pretty close,” Kyle sighed. Taking a sip.

“Firefighters are way better than doctors,” Adam stated. Arching an eyebrow. Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Look dude, if you like her go for it, you haven’t dated anyone since Norah, I want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy,” Adam sighed.

Kyle let out a sigh. Maybe he should ask you out again, try to get out of the friendzone.

“I’ll see if she is free on the weekend. I’m sure she has some sort of therapy, considering what she’s been through,” Kyle spoke.

“That’s my boy,” Adam boasted. As all four of them took sips of their beers.

Adam couldn’t wait to find out the information Kyle would feed him about this unidentified woman….

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••  

Jay glared at Austin as Austin took the stand. He had a suspicious feeling Austin knew more than he was letting on. He had a feeling that Austin had something to do with his sister's disappearance, possibly murder. He hoped this inquest unravelled Austin’s lies.

Jay clenched his jaw as Austin started to answer the question. Will spared a glance at his brother seeing Jay fuming.

“I love her, I just wish Roman would tell us where he put her body,” Austin responded to a question Jay wasn’t listening to. Jay had enough. He stood up in a fit of rage.

“We all that’s a lie, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one that killed her, you have abused her before. Which is why I think you kidnapped her and murdered her, then pinned it on some mafia boss she was dating,” Jay snapped. Making everyone in the courtroom turned to look at Jay.

“Mr. Halstead, sit down,” The judge spoke. Making Jay let out a grumble.

“No, he is the reason why my sister is missing. Possibly dead, if he claims he loved her so much, then why did he put bruises on her body. Laid his grimy hands on her. He abused her,” Jay snapped.

“Mr. Halstead,” The judge warned him.

“I did hurt her but that was my PTSD, I felt so bad after I hurt her. You should know that since you were in the military,” Austin spoke. Looking sad. Jay knew it was fake.

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” Jay shouted. Fury in his eyes.

The judge ordered the security guards to escort Jay out.

“I’m going to prove it was you, your lies will unravel, and the truth will come out,” Jay shouted as the guards escorted him out of the room.

Jay walked back to his truck. Fishing the keys out of his pockets. Jay unlocked the truck. Opening the door, and getting in. Putting the key in the ignition.

He wished he could have done more. His mind flashed back to when he last had an encounter with you before you disappeared.

“Y/n, open up,” Jay demanded. Banging on the door. You squeezed your eyes shut. Praying he would go away. You didn’t want him to see you with a black eye and busted lip.

Unfortunately for you, Jay didn’t go away. He pulled out the spare key you gave him. Putting it into the lock and unlocking the door. You cursed under your breath. Taking a step back from the door, as he opened it.

Jay’s eyes landed on you. He looked at you with a worried expression

“What happened? Who did this to you?” Jay asked. Looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Was it that new boyfriend of yours, because I swear if he turns out to be another Austin,” Jay grumbled. Concern turning into fury.

“No, it wasn’t Roman,” You sighed. Looking away from Jay. Glancing at the floor instead of Jay.

“It was Austin wasn’t,” Jay assumed.

“Course it was,” Jay grumbled.

“Jay, please, I’m handling it, he must have heard I was dating and he got jealous,” You sighed out. Giving him a pleading look.

“You are not safe from him y/n, let me handle this,” Jay spoke.

“I’m dealing with it,” You sighed.

“How are you dealing with it?” Jay snapped. Making you flinch. His eyes softened. His hands gently resting on your shoulder. Eyes looking into yours.

“I’m just worried one day you are going to end up in a body bag,” Jay sighed. You gave him a small smile.

“I’m going to get through this Jay,” You spoke softly voice cracking.

Jay went back to reality. He wished he did something that day. But he didn’t. But he was going to do something now. He was going to prove Austin killed you.

Jay turned the key in the ignition. Starting the truck. He quickly put his seatbelt on. Putting the handbrake down. then putting the transmission into gear. Jay pressed his foot on the accelerator leaving the courthouse to go to the 21st district.

Once he got there. He parked his truck. Storming into the 21st district. Not saying hello to Trudy as he walked past the front desk. He ran up the stairs. Punching the code word in. jay rushed up the stairs. Going into the bullpen. Hailey, Kevin, Adam, and Kim looked at Jay as he rushed into Hank's office. They all shared glances at each other. Feeling worried for their colleague and friend. Jay’s been on edge ever since your disappearance.

“I need your help, I’m hundred percent certain, that Austin Smith, murdered my twin sister, I saw her the night she disappeared he hurt her, she had a black eye and a busted lip,” Jay spoke.

Hank let out a grunt. Looking at Jay. He could tell this was wearing Jay down. he also had a feeling Austin wasn’t being truthful.

“I believe you, but if we are going to do this, we have to make sure we get hard evidence, bug his phones, keep this operation hush-hush, he is also a cop,” Hank spoke. Making Jay feel slightly better.

“We’re going to get this bastard, he is going to pay for what he did to my sister,” Jay spoke. Hank got up. Gesturing for Jay to follow him. Jay followed him.

“Alright, for now on we have one case and one case only, do not tell anyone else about the details of this case, you will not utter a single word about this case other than to the people in this team,” Hank spoke.

Hank looked at Jay. Jay nodded. Going to the whiteboard and writing y/n Halstead.

“Y/n Halstead, has been missing for a month, presumed dead, Austin blames Roman Reigns a mob boss in Chicago, for the disappearance of Y/n Halstead, Jay last saw her on the night she disappeared, a black eye and a busted lip, now we can assume Roman did it, but Austin has a history of hurting y/n, maybe he took it to far,” Hank spoke.

“We are going to bug his place, all his devices, till he confesses, gear up,” Hank spoke again. Walking out of the bullpen.

The rest of the team followed Hank. Getting ready to plant a bug in Austin Smith's house. The air was tense…

Hailey and Kim rode with Jay, while Adam and Kevin rode together and Hank drove alone.

“We will find her, Jay,” Hailey reassured Jay. Giving him a reassuring look. Jay tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Pressing his foot on the gas more.

“I just want her back,” Jay mumbled.

Kim and Hailey shared a look.

“How did the inquest go?” Kim asked.

“Horrible, he’s trying to play the victim,” Jay grumbled. Feeling slightly better as they all reached Austin’s house. He parked the truck.

Hailey was about to open her mouth when Jay got out of the car.

“He just wants to find her,” Kim sighed. As they both got out.

All of them slowly and tacitly walked to Austin’s house. Hailey, Adam, and Jay going behind the house, while Kim, Kevin, and Hank were out the front. Checking to see if Austin was home. When they found out he wasn’t. Adam picked the lock. Letting out a laugh of victory. Hailey, Jay, and Adam walked into the house, checking the area. Adam quickly went to the front. Opening the front door. Letting Kevin, Hank, and Kim in.

“Let's get in and get out,” Hank commanded. All of them nodded. Going off and placing bugs discreetly.

Once they finished placing the bug they all exited the house, Jay, Hailey, and Kevin going into the surveillance van while Kim, Adam, and Hank got into the vehicles. All they had to do was wait till Austin exposed himself…

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ •• 

 You stared at the painting that was hanging in the psychotherapy waiting room. Waiting for your appointment. Technically it was CBT- Cognitive behavioral therapy, at least that’s what Connor told you last night. You were surprised he told you that. He has been acting weird and distant ever since you kissed him.

A woman who looked like she was in her late forties came out of the room. Then another middle-aged woman came out of the room as well. She gave you a warm welcoming smile.

“Come in, my name is Aurella,” She spoke.

You quickly got up. Walking into the room and sitting on the chair. Aurella shut the door. Walking over to the chair in front of you. She sat down.

“So, you’ve been through a lot, and since you suffered a brain injury and a head trauma. Your brain had repressed your memory. I’m here to help you regain some of those memories, like your name, life before coming here, and only if you want to what happened to you that lead you to have such this massive trauma,”  She spoke in a comforting voice. You nodded your head. Giving her a small smile.

“First we are going to start small, we are going to start with your name,” She spoke.

“Lay down, and close your eyes,” She told you. You did as she told you to do.

“Now relax,” She spoke again. You heard paper moving.

“I want you to picture something that makes you feel calm,” She spoke. Looking at your body language.

You tried to relax, but your vision just showed black.

“Some people picture the beach or lying in a field of flowers looking up at the sky,” Aurella spoke.

Your vision slowly picturing the field of flowers. Strolling through the field of flowers, you hear someone call out your name.

“What name do you hear?” She asked.

Your mind pictured you wandering in a field of flowers. A voice saying y/n. you turned around to see a guy with an evil smirk. Your heart racing. You looked down to see blood. You could smell the metallic smell of blood.

Your eyes shot open. Breathing heavily.

“Are you okay?” Aurella asked you. Looking at you with a concerned look.

“Y/n, that’s what I heard,” You told her. Leaving out the part of the guy you saw and the blood.

“Okay,” She spoke. Writing notes down in the book she was holding. She looked back up at you. Giving you a warm smile. As she noticed you looked uncomfortable.

“I’ll see you next week,” She spoke. Standing up.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Aurella spoke. As you got up. She assisted you to the door. Opening the door for you.

“You two,” You responded.

“Take care,” She spoke. As you walked out the door. Giving her a small smile. You walked over to the receptionist. She looked up.

“I have you booked for the same time and day next week. No need to pay Connor, I mean Dr. Rhodes paid for it,” She spoke.

“Thanks,” You spoke. You turned around to walk out of the room, as well as the hospital. Walking through the town.

You saw the flower shop. Your eyes darted around, as you thought whether to talk to Norah. You decided to talk. After that image, you saw you had to tell her. Maybe she would hate you less.

You took a deep breath. Walking over to the flower shop. As you entered the flower shop. The door chimed. Anxiety bubbled up inside of you.

Norah looked up. Her warm welcoming smile disappeared as she realized it was you. She looked angry.

“Norah…” You started to say. But she cut you off.

“How do you know my name?” She snapped out. Your heart quickened.

‘From yesterday,” You gulped out.

“Oh, right, why are you here? What do you want?” She snapped out. Fury in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, for what you are going through, people accusing your father of hurting me, I know he didn’t do it,” You spoke in a soft voice.

“Then tell the cops,” She growled out.

“It’s complicated,” You sighed. She let out an annoyed huff.

Neither Norah nor you noticing someone was listening. Hiding behind the back room. That person happened to be Jey Uso.

Jey’s eyes widened in shock. Mouth a gap. You were alive. He felt a small bit of relief. He had to tell Roman.

‘You know what you can do, go away, everything was fine till you showed up,” Norah snapped.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped out. Feeling tears prick your eyes.

“Why don’t you do everyone in this town a favor and disappear again, this time show up in a town not covered in blood,” She snapped. Storming off.

You let out a heavy sigh. Turning around and walking out the door.

Feeling deflated. You walked down the streets. looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” You heard a familiar voice call out to you. You looked up to see Kyle coming towards you.

“Hey Kyle,” You greeted him.

“How are you doing?” Kyle asked.

“Alright, how about you?” You replied.

“Same, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out again, on Saturday, have some coffee and lunch, at the same coffee shop, only if you want to,” Kyle suggested in a nervous tone.

“Sure,” You replied. Making Kyle smile brightly. You smiled at him.

He took out a piece of paper. Handing it to you. You arched an eyebrow. Seeing numbers on it.

“It’s my phone number,” He spoke.

“Oh, thank you, I don’t have a phone, but I will definitely see you on Saturday, what time?” You asked.

“A bit after eleven,” Kyle responded.

Another voice called out Kyle’s name. Making Kyle turn his attention towards the person who called his name.

Kyle looked back at you. Giving you a warm smile.

“I have to go, I’ll see you on Saturday, take care,” Kyle spoke. Giving you a warm smile.

He took off running towards his friend and co-worker Bobby. Leaving you to stare at the piece of paper that had his phone number on it…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Jey was beyond thrilled his shift at the flower shop was over. He was staying in a cabin with Roman at Norah Williams farm. She told him she needed help at the flower shop. So, he helped her, mainly to get on her good books.

He listened for hours on days while she ranted about this unidentified woman who ended up in her barn that burnt down. Jey thought it was interesting that there was an unidentified woman in the town. Maybe it was y/n since they didn’t find her body. Roman thought Austin killed her given he was the one that saved her from Austin. But Jey believed you were still alive, and he was right.

Jey stopped the car at the cabin Roman and he was staying in. putting the handbrake up. Putting the car in park, he turned the car off. Pulling out the keys. He quickly got out. Rushing out of the car. Slamming the door. He quickly ran to the cabin. Opening the door and slamming it.

Roman looked up from the TV giving Jey an annoyed look.

“How was the flower shop?” Roman asked.

“Interesting,” Jey responded. Walking towards Roman. Till he was standing in front of him.

‘I don’t think anything about a flower shop would be interesting unless you met a woman, who is she? You know we can’t stay long here,” Roman spoke.

“I found her,” Jey spoke. Eyes gleaming. Finally feeling happy he got that off his chest. Unfortunately, Roman thought he meant something different.

Roman rolled his eyes. Letting out a drawn-out sigh.

“Jey, this was a temporary thing, we can’t stay here, break up with her,” Roman demanded.

“I don’t think you understand, I found her,” Jey spoke again. Looking desperately at Roman.

“Well, I’m sure you will find another woman at the next town,” Roman grumbled.

“I found y/n,” Jey slightly shouted. Making Roman’s eyes widened. Mouth a gap.

He stood up.

“But he…” Roman gasped out in shock.

“She’s alive, though I think she was amnesia,” Jey spoke.

“Do you know what this means,” Roman spoke.

“Your innocent,” Jay responded. Roman grabbed Jey’s shoulders. Looking into his eyes.

“We can kidnap her and get out of this town,” Roman spoke. Making Jey look at Roman with confusion.

“But she doesn’t remember anything let alone her name,” Jey spoke.

“Doesn’t matter, I can’t lose her again,” Roman gasped out. Jey gulped before speaking.

“Then when do we do it?” Jey asked.

“We keep tabs on her, and when she is alone, we take her,” Roman spoke. Smiling at Jey. Bringing his hand up to Jey’s face and patting it out…

 • ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Carson trailed behind Connor at a safe distance. Making sure she didn't get caught. She saw him go into a room.

She quickly pressed her ear to the door. Listening in on the quiet talking.

"Connor, I can't tell you how she went?' Aurella sighed.

"Please," Connor begged. Aurella let out a sigh.

"Her name is y/n, but I have a feeling she saw something else, just by how she woke up in a fright, I didn't persist because that wouldn't help her, given her current situation," Aurella spoke. Connor felt defeated you didn't remember him yet.

Carson smiled to herself as she found out this unidentified woman's name. She sneaked away, going into a supply closet. Taking out her phone. Unlocking the phone. She went into the messaging app. Going into the convo she had with Adam.

Her name is Y/n, didn't get the last name, but I hope that helps. She typed, then pressed sent.

A few minutes later her phone vibrated. She smiled as she saw his reply.

Thank you, it helps a lot. Adam responded.

She quickly replied with a kiss emoji before locking her phone. Putting it back in her pocket. She composed herself before walking out of the supply closet, getting back to work...

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Adam smirked as he reread the text Carson sent him. He finally had her name.

He looked at the screen of the PC.

"I got a lead, found out her name," Adam spoke, as he noticed Roddy walking into his office, holding a paper bag and a box with two coffees in it.

"Really, did she tell you?" Roddy asked. Eyes sparkling with delight. He placed the box that held the coffees on the desk. Putting the paper bag on the desk as well.

"Nah, a CI told me," Adam spoke, as he took one of the coffees, Roddy stopped opening the paper bag. Looking at Adam curiously.

"Right, is this CI Carson?" He asked as he grabbed his food.

Adam shrugged his shoulders.

"Be careful, I know you want to solve this case..." Roddy started to say only for Adam to cut him off.

"And I have, all I have to do is run her first name through the database, filter it to missing cases, and I have her identity," Adam spoke.

"Right, well I'll leave you to it, I'm on my lunch break," Roddy spoke. Picking up the box that only held one coffee cup now, as well as picking up the brown paper bag.

"Call me if you need me," Roddy spoke, as he walked away. Adam moved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Adam typed y/n in the database, filtering it to missing, a few names popped up. He looked at every single one of them, feeling deflated. Adam pressed on another one. A smile gracing his lips as he saw the woman had the same similar facial features as you.

"Bingo, Y/n Halstead," Adam cheered.

Adam opened another tab, going into google. He typed in Y/n Halstead. Smiling proudly as he saw results. He went into an article. Reading the words that were written, he scrolled down, till he reached a video. Adam pressed play on the video.

A police officer looked up at the camera with sad eyes. Letting out a sigh before speaking.

"My name is officer Smith," Austin spoke voice full of pain. He looked down at the ground, letting out a sigh. He looked back up with glassy eyes.

"Y/n Halstead has been missing for months, her brother Jay was the last one to see her, y/n might be my ex, but I still care deeply for her. Y/n has been involved with Roman Reigns a notorious mob boss, I believe he may have caused her harm or killed her. Unfortunately, we haven't found y/n yet, but we are hoping if we find Roman and his accomplish Jey, we will hopefully get information on where he is holding her or buried her. If you have any information or potential leads please don't hesitate to call this number on the screen, as well as my number which is flashing across the screen. We just want y/n back Roman; we won't charge you if you cooperate," Officer Smith spoke.

Adam quickly paused the video. Grabbing a sticky note and a pen. He saw a picture of a woman showing on the screen as well as the numbers, it looked a lot like the unidentified woman.

He wrote both numbers down on the sticky note. Adam picked up the phone in his office. Calling Officer Smith's phone number.

Adam heard the phone ringing. Officer Smith picked up on the third ring.

"Hello, officer Smith speaking," Austin spoke.

Adam smirked leaning back on his chair, as he looked out the window. He noticed it was night time.

"Hello, officer Smith, this is officer Cole, I think I have some information on your ex-girlfriend, Y/n Halstead, an unidentified woman who came into our town, and after doing a little digging I believe she is Y/n Halstead," Adam spoke.

"Send me the details of your county and I will come," Austin spoke. As Adam smirked not knowing the danger that was laying ahead....

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Connor heard muffled crying coming from the guest room as he locked his front door. He quickly rushed into the guest room. Pulse racing.

Connor opened the door rushing inside the bedroom to see you hugging your legs with your uninjured arm. Rocking back and forth. Tears falling from your eyes. Your body was shaking.

"Y/n," Connor called out softly. His voice full of worry, as he cautiously came over to you.

You flinched as he neared you. Letting out a soft whimper. It broke his heart.

"It's just me, Connor," He spoke with a soft reassuring voice. You looked up at him with teary eyes. Lips trembling. It broke his heart even more.

"I remember what he did, what he did to me, how he abused me, how he hit me till I passed out, or maybe he believed I was dead," You sobbed out. Connor looked so heartbroken.

He quickly sat beside you. Wrapping his arms around you. You immediately fall into him. Holding onto him for dear life, as your body trembled.

"I'm here," He reassured you. His hand rubbing up and down your back. Rubbing soothing circles.

Whispering comforting and reassuring words to you. Eventually, your sobs subsided, your eyes growing heavily, slowly drifting back to sleep in Connor's arms.

Connor looked down at you with a sad expression. He was worried about you. Having you in his arms was too painful, especially when you didn't remember him or the history he and you shared. Connor delicately placed you down on the bed. Pulling the sheet over your body. Gazing at you for a second, before he turned around. Quietly walking out the door. He closed the door ever so softly.

Letting out a small sigh, he took out his phone. Unlocking it and going into the contacts. Scrolling down his contacts till he found Jay's contact. Connor pressed on it. Pressing the call icon. Bringing the phone up to his ear.

Connor waited till Jay picked up. When he did, he didn't wait till Jay said anything.

"Hey jay, it's your sister, she came to Florida, all banged up with no memory loss, and I'm worried about her," Connor spoke softly.

Connor heard heavy breathing.

"She's alive..." Jay gasped out.

"Yeah," Connor responded.

"Don't go anywhere I'm coming to get her," Jay spoke. Connor heard rustling on the other end, then a vehicle starting before he heard the phone cut off...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Hailey exited the coffee shop. Holding the cardboard cup holder and a takeout bag. She had to beg Jay to take a break with her. Though he told the rest of the team to keep him informed. Hailey smiled politely at a woman as the woman passed her. Hailey heard a vehicle starting up, as well as tires screeching on the road. Hailey saw Jay drive off in a hurry without her. She quickly went over to a table. Putting the cardboard cup holder and bag on the table. She grabbed her walkie-talkie.

"Jay, what the hell?" She spoke into the walkie-talkie.

"I'm sorry, but I found news about y/n," Jay spoke. Cutting the walkie-talkie off.

Hailey was about to talk again when Kim's voice came through the walkie talkie

"Jay, Hailey, Austin got a call from a Florida police officer that y/n is in Florida,"

Hailey let out a relieved sigh, then felt a wave of anxiety wash over her at the thought of your ex finding you first. Possibly killing you.

"Can you pick me up, Jay must have found out first and left me here at a small coffee shop," Hailey spoke.

"Yeah, sure," Kim spoke, through the walkie-talkie...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You woke up with a gasp. Drenched in sweat. You looked around to realize you were alone. The house was quiet. He either left or was avoiding you or he was working. A frown formed on your lips. You slowly got up. Your temple throbbing as you did so.

You glanced at the alarm clock on the bed. Eyes widening as you realized it was 11:59 am. You quickly got up. Rushing to the bathroom stripping off your clothes. Turning the taps on to the bathtub.

You quickly did your morning routine, then got dressed. Rushing out of the door. You rushed to the café shop. Seeing Kyle sitting at a table. Looking slightly sad. He heard footsteps approaching him. He looked up to see you approaching him. His face lighting up with happiness.

"I am so sorry, I had a rough night, and I overslept," You spoke. Smiling at him.

"It's okay, are you okay?" Kyle asked as he got up. He was going to pull your chair out for you, but you already sat down. Kyle sat back down awkwardly. Ear burning red with embarrassment.

"Yeah," You responded.

"I have some news, Adam found out your name, it is Y/n Halstead, also, your ex-Austin Smith is coming," Kyle spoke. Kyle noticed your whole demeanor changed to a look of pure fear.

Your heart was beating faster. As flashbacks flashed of Austin hurting you. As well as beating you until you passed out. He probably thought you were dead, and now he found you, he was going to kill you.

"I have to go," You gasped out. Standing up abruptly. The chair clattered to the ground. Not that you cared. You rushed off leaving Kyle to look at you with a worried expression. You were not okay...

You ran as fast as your legs could take you. Passing people. Some of them looked at you like you were on drugs.

You felt a hand clamp around your mouth, then an arm wrap around your body. Pulling you closer to their body. You kicked wildly. Trying to free yourself. But they were stronger. They dragged you down the alleyway. You screamed for help. But their hand clamped down hard on your mouth. Muffling your cries for help. You saw Kyle in the distance, but he couldn't see you. Tears fell from your eyes, as they dragged you to the car. What if this person was Austin or someone he paid. Austin lived in Chicago. Surely, he wouldn't have come to Florida that quick.

They opened the back door. Pushing you into the car. They slammed the door shut. Walking to the front driver's side getting in.

You saw two guys turn to look at you. You shivered in fear.

"You're really alive," Roman gasped out. While you just whimpered, tears falling from your eyes rapidly. He reached out to wipe your tears away, but you flinched, moving back. Roman's facial expression turned into a look of sadness.

"Who are you? Are you going to kill me?" You gasped out. Roman looked at Jey. Before looking back at you. Making you even more anxious.

"I'm Roman, we were dating till your ex kidnapped you and tortured you, but your alive now and that's all that matters, this is Jey, my cousin" Roman spoke. Pointing at Jey who was in the driver's side. Roman glanced at Jey. Jey started the car up, the doors locked making you panic. Driving away. You passed Kyle, along the way. Your pulse racing. You didn't have many options, the doors were locked, the windows were tinted dark. Even if you did pound on the window, it's not like Kyle could see you. Your only option was to wait till they stopped at a petrol station and flee...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Austin stepped off the helicopter that landed on a field. He smiled as he saw Officer Cole leaning against a car. He walked over to him with confidence.

Once he reached officer Cole. He stuck out his hand. Shaking hands with him.

"She's living with Connor Rhodes," Adam spoke. Making Austin's jaw clenched tight. Austin smiled at Adam.

"Then we should check there first," Austin spoke. Making Adam smile.

Adam walked towards the driver's side, while Austin walked towards the passenger side. Adam and Austin got into the car. Adam started the car, driving off. Adam sped towards Connor's apartment. Silence settling in.

Adam parked the car in front of the apartment complex. Austin got out before Adam could even utter a word. Adam got out as well. Catching up to Austin. Both took the elevator.

Adam pressed the top floor. Austin and him waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor. Adam could sense Austin was in no mood to chat.

The elevator reached the top floor. The doors slide open. Austin and Adam walked out of the elevator.

"His room is the one at the end," Adam spoke. As they both walked to the last room.

Austin roughly smashed his shoulder into the door. Breaking it. Adam looked surprised at the action.

Austin quickly walked into the apartment. Looking for you. Calling out your name but no answer.

He let out a frustrated grunt. Looking out the window. Clenching his fists. He Saw a few cameras scattered around.

He turned wildly around to face Adam.

"Do those security cameras work?" Austin asked.

"Yeah, I can get the tech to send me the feed if you want," Adam replied.

"That would be great," Austin grumbled.

Adam quickly did what Austin requested. Coming over to Austin once he got the feed.

"The tech guy sent me this," Adam spoke. Showing him the video. It was you running, then a hand grabbed your mouth. Pulling you into the alleyway. A few minutes later a car went out of the alleyway.

"Track the car's plates, put a bolo on that car, it's Roman, we have to save her," Austin ordered. As he exited the apartment. Adam hot on his trail. Doing what Austin asked...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Nerves ran through your body, as you made yourself look small.

Roman and Jey were talking amongst themselves. Roman turned around to look at you. He was about to speak when a car crashed into the driver's side, causing such force the car flipped over.

Glass shattered everywhere; the car rolled a couple of times till it stopped on the roof. Roman, Jey, and you all knocked unconscious.

Memories came flooding back to you. Your relationship with Austin, Roman, and you, when he first saved you from Austin, Connor and you having a friend with benefits relationship. Letting him leave Chicago without telling him about your feelings for him, Austin hurting you, walking to this town, your two brothers Jay and Will, everything came back to you in a rush.

Your eyes fluttered open, as you let out a gasp of pain. Everything hurt. Blood crusted on the top of your head. Nose bleeding. You were sure you dislocated your shoulder. Lucky it was the one with the sling.

You looked around your surroundings to realize you were upside down. Your hand reached down to your seatbelt. Undoing it. Suppressing a yelp of pain. If your shoulder wasn't dislocated before it definitely was now that you fell shoulder first onto the roof.

You crawled out of the car. Glass scraping your skin. You staggered to Roman's side. Pressing your index and middle finger against his windpipe. It was faint. Blood was running down his forehead. You looked past him to see how Jey was. Only to see the steering wheel embedded into his stomach. You reached over to check his pulse. But felt nothing. Your stomach turned. You quickly unbuckled Roman. Pulling him out of the car with great difficulty.

Roman's eyes fluttered open. He looked up at you with glazed eyes.

"Roman," You gasped out. Your hand stroking his cheek. Looking down at him with worried eyes.

"Y/n..." Roman grumbled out.

"I remember you," You gasped out. Tears pricking your eyes.

Roman smiled. Before coughing. You quickly accessed his body for wounds. Finding a large piece of glass sticking out of his leg. Before you could treat it, Roman grabbed your hand. Looking at you.

"Is Jey okay?" Roman asked. Making your pulse quicken. You shook your head no.

Roman's eyes watered. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sound of a gunshot rang out. Your eyes widen as you saw a bullet wound in the side of Roman's temple. You let out a scream. Shuffling away from Roman. Breathing getting heavier. You looked up to see your ex- Austin stalking towards you. You quickly got up. Running into the woods. Austin following you.

"You can run but you can't hide," He shouted. As you ran faster. Tree branches scratching your skin, you looked back now and then.

"Come on. y/n, let's finish what we started," Austin shouted. He sounded close. You quickly looked behind you, not noticing a root of a tree sticking out, your foot got caught and you tripped over.

You heard footsteps coming towards you. Looking around. Seeing a thick brunch on the ground. Wrapping your fingers around the brunch. You turned around to see Austin looming above you. You quickly got up. Swinging the brunch hard against his temple. It stunned him. You tried to run away but Austin wrapped his arms around you. Tackling you to the ground with such force it knocked the wind out of you. He turned you around to face him. Sitting on you, so you didn't escape. You tried to escape but you couldn't escape.

Austin looked at you with wild eyes.

"Do it," You growled. Glaring at him.

"I don't want to, but I have to, I love you so much, y/n know that but sometimes you make me angry," Austin spoke. Pressing the muzzle of the gun to your forehead.

Before he could pull the trigger another sound of a gun firing cut through the air. Austin's eyes glazed over as he slumped down on top of you. You quickly pushing him off you.

"Y/n," Jay gasped out. Rushing over to you.

Jay helped you up.

"Jay," You gasped out. As you wrapped your arms around him. Hugging each other.

"I remember..." You sobbed out. As Jay hugged you tighter.

"It's okay, I've got you, he can't hurt you anymore," Jay spoke. Pulling away from you. You nodded. Feeling slightly dizzy.

Jay looked at you with concern. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you fainted. Jay quickly caught you picking you up and rushing out of the woods. He didn't stop running till he reached his truck. Opening the back door, place you gently down on the back seat. He closed the door. Quickly going to the driver's side. Opening the door and getting in. shutting the door. Jay turned the keys, putting the handbrake down, he started the truck, pressing his foot down hard on the accelerator. Speeding off towards the nearest hospital. Speeding through every red light.

Jay stopped at the emergency entrance, hopping out and opening the back door. Grabbing hold of you. He rushed into the hospital.

"Help my sister, she fainted," Jay shouted. Nurses rushed over to Jay, taking you out of his arms and onto a gurney. Wheeling you off, leaving Jay to look at the doors they took you through...

Jay sat on the uncomfortable chair, in the waiting room. Waiting for news on how you were. He looked up as he heard footsteps making their way over to him. Jay glared at Connor.

"Jay..." Connor started to say but Jay cut him off.

"You could have called me early when she came into this town," Jay grunted. Standing up.

"Jay..." Connor tried to speak again but Jay cut him off.

"Is she okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, just a concussion, and a dislocated shoulder," Connor spoke. Making Jay sigh.

"You can see her if you want," Connor spoke. Jay nodded his head. As he silently followed Connor to your room. Biting his tongue.

Jay quickly walked into your room. Feeling slightly relieved.

"Hey Jay," You spoke softly. Noticing Connor at the door. Your gaze turned back to your twin brother.

Jay quickly wrapped his arms around you. Making you let out a tiny groan as he bumped your shoulder. Jay loosened his grip. Pulling away and sitting on the side of the bed. Looking at you through tear-filled eyes.

"Come back to Chicago with me," Jay spoke. Your eyes glanced to the door to see Connor wasn't there. Your heart plummeting to the pit of your stomach. You nodded your head. Jay smiled brightly. Glad you were coming home with him.

"I'm going to go get something to eat, do you want something?" Jay asked. You nodded your head no, Jay hugged you again, before leaving to the vending machine.

Jay took out some spare change, putting it into the slot. Pressing the number on the vending machine. Jay's eyes wandered off. Seeing an officer get treated. He quickly grabbed his food, walking slowly. He listened to the conversation. Hearing your ex's name being bought up.

"He crashed into that car," Adam spoke. Jay put two and two together. Anger rising within him.

"I'm so glad you are okay," A nurse spoke.

"You teamed up with my sister's ex, what is wrong with you," Jay snapped. Glaring at Adam, as he stood in the door frame.

"I didn't know," Adam gasped out looking at Jay with a guilty expression.

"I hope you have a bad time sleeping at night," Jay bitterly spoke. Turning around and walking back to your room. Seeing a guy with brown hair holding flowers stand in the middle of the hallway looking into your room, a deflated look on his face. Jay arched an eyebrow. Walking up to him. He looked at what he was looking at, seeing Connor and you talking. Connor was holding your hand.

"Who are you?" Jay asked. Making Kyle jump in fright. Kyle turned to look at the person who spoke to him.

'Kyle, I saved, y/n when she first came here," Kyle responded. Making Jay nod thoughtfully.

"Thanks, but y/n is fine now, she's going back to Chicago," Jay spoke. Making Kyle's heart sink.

"Um, can you give these to her," Kyle spoke, handing Jay a boutique of flowers. Kyle turned around and left, looking dejected.

Jay listened in on what Connor and you were talking about.

"Jay wants me to go back to Chicago though, but to want to give us another try," You spoke. Making Connor smile.

"Me too, I will come back to Chicago with you," Connor spoke. Making you smile.

Jay quickly walked into the room just as Connor and you were about to kiss. Connor and you glanced at him. You arched your eyebrows at him. He shrugged putting the flowers on the side table. He wasn't sure where Kyle and you stood, and he didn't want to jeopardize the relationship that Connor and you had.

"I got you flowers, and also none of that PDA stuff, I just got you back I don't need Connor to hog you," Jay joked. Making Connor and you smile. Letting out a small laugh...

A/N: FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED! You can also find this series on wattpad & ao3 links in the reblog I reblogged of this.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Time

Thorns & Jasmine

In which Breannan tries to prepare some materials for class.

Warnings: Panic attack/flashback to captivity

This is a bit of a hard one to place. It sits chronologically shortly before or while Caldyn is captured, but I don’t think it’s a good entry to the series. Or perhaps it is. I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet where to put it on the masterlist. Nvm I placed it on the masterlist.

It’s mostly worldbuilding fluff, with a pinch of angst, and me being needlessly mean. It’s also my entry for @whump-of-the-month May “Time”.

This one is also a fill for my BTHB.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The stroke of a brush on parchment. Filling the space between broad, dark lines with colorful patches. Red. A bit of a mind-numbing exercise, but a necessary one. Some of the materials of the earliest lessons were worn out, should probably have been replaced this season already. Posters explaining the races of Tere, listing animals, showing rows of numbers or artfully drawn letters. 

Purple. This one was a circle, divided into twelve slices, each for one month of the commonly used calendar. As with the common language, it had been created by the humans first. A year cut up as a way to keep track of time that was largely meaningless here, under the branches of the Tiyatsin. Where in the other parts of the world seasons brought differences in weather and temperature, neither ever changed in the Sentient Wilds.

There were other ways to consider time here, a slower rhythm. Cyan. Instead of hours, most kalani were content to think roughly of the times between sunrise, noon and sunset. They had adapted the habit of counting seven days as a week — a number as arbitrary as any other would have been —  but barely bothered to name the days. There was a certain need to name a period of time that would be more than a day or two, but less than really many days. Months were sometimes used, too, their names common knowledge, their significance not so much. Instead each year had two seasons, centered around the times when most of the saplings awoke.

Green. In a few weeks, this season would end, he would say goodbye to the class of students he had taught over those last two years. Shortly after, he would climb up to the highest branches, wait for the awakening of new saplings, welcome them into this world. Gather a new class, learn new names and new faces, replacing the old ones — in his classroom, never in his memories.

Almost thirty years of teaching had left him with many memories. Faces and names of curious, brilliant saplings, ready to face the world on their own. Blue. Some returned, for a while. Told their old mentor of all the things they had seen, they had learned. Of a wide, colorful world they had visited, bringing back tales and knowledge and trinkets. 

Inevitably, those visits would grow rarer. They had other things to do now. Some would receive a Biotai, some find an occupation, some flock to other mentors, teaching advanced lessons, like he did with the human languages. Most found partners, moved out of the houses they had lived in as saplings, built their new life somewhere else.

Yellow. The last slice of the year. Breannan paused. The yellow wasn’t quite as bright as it should have been, even though he hadn’t even touched any of the black lines with the brush. He looked at the small bowl, holding the partially dissolved pigment. It had a brown tint. Breannan sighed. He probably hadn’t cleaned the paintbrush carefully enough when swapping between colors. One day he’d learn, start with the brightest colors first. Today was not that day. As a result, he’d have to clean the paint now, and then hope he’d be able to salvage his drawing.

With another sigh, he reached for the cup of tea on his desk. He had picked up this work to take his mind off things, but apparently his mind had been a bit too far away. Taking a sip, he almost choked, smelling that something was off a bit too late. “What…” Lowering the cup, he realized he was holding the wrong one. It wasn’t the wooden one, polished from years of holding it in his hands. It was the clay one, splattered with colorful specks on the outside, filled with water he had used to clean his paintbrush between colors. At least the paint wasn’t toxic — few things were to his kind — but the taste it left on his tongue was unpleasant. Breannan made a face as he put the colored water down, decidedly on the other side of the table.

Then he reached for the cup, the one that truly held tea, lifting it carefully, as if he had to confirm every step along the way that this time it was the right one. Or had been; it was his luck that he glanced down into it before starting to drink. Blue lines swam in the golden tea. Well that probably explained what had ruined his yellow. A third sigh — this one much heavier than the previous ones — and he put the cup down again, pushing it away. His mind really wasn’t where it should be today.

Thirty-two days since the last time this particular student had visited him. Not that he was counting them or anything. Ever since Caldyn had moved into the outskirts, his visits had grown rarer, but he had still managed to come by at least once, usually twice per month. Not even to tell him something, or ask him about anything in particular. Just to visit him, hang out for a while, share a tea and talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

It had been five years since Caldyn had finished his class, deciding against further education, following his calling as healer instead. In all this time, his visits had stayed the same. Breannan had started to believe it could be true, could really go on like this.

Thirty-two days. The first time it was more than a month. Breannan wished he hadn’t kept track. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the pattern. The time between visits growing longer, one day at a time. A carelessly spoken sentence, mentioning how Gawyn didn’t like it when Caldyn stayed away for too long. It was something Breannan had always found strange. He didn’t know what to think of Gawyn. The few times he had met Caldyn’s partner, their conversations had been limited to polite small talk. He didn’t like him very much. There was something unpleasant about him Breannan couldn’t put his finger on. The thought that it was mere jealousy wasn’t too far-fetched, though, so he had kept his opinion to himself.

Perhaps it was normal, this need to spend every waking hour together. It was one of many things Breannan would never understand. How people were drawn to each other, no matter if their personalities even matched. How they started to forget everything else, to view everyone who wasn’t their partner — or one of their partners — as less important. It hurt. It hurt even more when he considered that he’d never be one of those; the one who would be the most important one to someone else. Which was a selfish thought, considering he’d probably not be able to reciprocate. Not in the right way, at least.

He shouldn’t be so gloomy. Not over thirty-two days. That was barely a week longer than the longest time he’d not seen Caldyn before, which of course he also hadn't counted. Back then there had been an accident in the Outskirts, a thunderstorm devastating a village. Caldyn had been busy for weeks, taking care of all the injured kalani. Breannan hoped no such thing had happened again, but he hadn’t heard of any incidents. It would make the guilt that was already gnawing at him worse. He should be less selfish, should be happy for his friend — doing what he loved, living in a place he loved, with the person he loved.

Not that Breannan wasn’t doing what he loved, and living in a place he loved. His gaze wandered to one of his shelves, filled with trinkets of all sizes and origins. Almost all of them were gifts from his friends and former students. Looking at them, remembering each person who had gifted them to him, never failed to make Breannan smile. 

Staring at a colorful glass bauble, he considered his options. Starlight wasn’t at the Tiyatsin currently, and probably wouldn’t be anytime soon. They were traveling across the ocean again, a ship mage on one of the pirate vessels. The thought of their fragile figure, standing atop the mast, arms spread wide, commanding the winds, made him smile. Some others had left their home as well, as many of the older ones did. After decades of living under the tree, many longed to explore the world. Breannan could understand them. He, too, sometimes missed the time where he had traveled to distant lands.

Lish was still here, but she was busy more than ever with the increasing attacks of the lost ones. It was concerning how many of their siblings were lured to join them. What had been a distant rumor a few years ago had grown into grim certainty: the Ceodh were a threat to their kind, a darkness spreading within. It made it all the more important to teach the saplings about compassion and kindness before they emerged into the world.  

Corrie came by from time to time, but the nature of their occupation — a mentor like Breannan — always led to their talks returning to students and classrooms eventually. While their personalities were different, the lives they lead were too similar to leave room for much variety. The very same problem plagued his relationship with a few of the other mentors, though he wasn’t quite as close to any of them. 

In fact, he wasn’t overly close to a lot of people. He knew outside the classroom, many people considered him aloof. Behind his desk, he was confident, spoke with vibrant meaning behind his words. Breannan had no doubts that he was a good teacher, though he took care to remind himself that he wasn’t perfect. But if he wasn’t teaching, if he talked casually to strangers and acquaintances, he kept the meaning behind his words low. He knew it was bordering on being impolite. He couldn’t help it. If he didn’t, he might slip up, might share a random terror, as rare as they had become in recent years. If he didn’t, they often caught on that he was one of the firstborn. There was something different about the meaning behind the words of those who had awoken before words had existed. And every single time he was worried they’d connect the dots, would remember his name, would ask.

He couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. It didn’t make the fear any less real. A fear that was creeping at the edge of his mind now, even though he was alone, and home, and safe. Breannan reached for the cup of tea, stopping himself at the last moment. Right. He should probably clean the cup and get some fresh tea. 

Walking to the window, to pour the paint-stained water out, he found that it was raining. Walking to the shelf, peering into the pitcher, and the bucket, he found that he was out of water. The combination of those two circumstances made him sigh again. He wasn’t a huge fan of getting wet, but he had no other choice. Grabbing the bucket, he walked to the door.

The moment he left his house, water drenched him from head to toe. The rain was even heavier than it had seemed from inside; thick drops crawling under his petals, freezing cold on his bark. That’s what he got for delaying grabbing fresh water earlier, when he had seen — and promptly forgotten — that the bucket was empty. No way around it, though. Breannan started to walk. The feeling of drops running down his back was entirely unpleasant, stirring something buried in his memories.

Then thunder sounded, accompanying a lightning strike. For a moment, everything was bathed in white light, so much colder than the sun, shining mercilessly down on him, and down and down. Breannan’s legs didn’t carry him anymore, making him crumple to the ground. He was shaking before his back touched the wall of his house, smooth and hard. It wasn’t metal, but it was so cold, it felt like it. Another flash, the light so bright, and the rain falling down on him, he had to catch it, gather it. His bare hands scratched over the ground, not feeling the mud they dug in. If he didn’t stop the water, it would flow away, leaving him not only starving, but thirsty as well. 

It was the taste of earth that snapped him out of it. It was wrong. There had been no earth, nothing natural. Metal and glass and crystal light, and the water, falling down on him, and those creatures, walking past, ignoring his desperate pleas. Breannan reached blindly for the wall, sliding his hand down until he touched the ground. Wet sand and short grass. He finally dared to open his eyes. It was dark; not the darkness of night, merely the dim light of heavy clouds, hanging in a sky that was already blocked out by the parent tree’s branches. With a sob, Breannan leaned his head back. He was home. He was fine. 

The next flash of lightning only made his stomach turn, but didn’t send him back into his panic. Still, he had to get back inside, away from the storm. It took him several minutes to find enough strength to move. Sitting up straight, turning his head, looking around. In a lucky stroke of fate, he had dropped the bucket upright. Some water had gathered in it. Not much, but it would be enough to fill a cup or two. With shaking hands, Breannan reached for it, pushing it inside, not daring to lift it. He followed without getting up, crawling inside and sinking against the wall on the other side of the door.

It was by far not the first one of those attacks, no matter how rare they had become in recent times. It also wouldn’t be the last. And while he was glad no one had been around to witness it, a part of him also wished he wasn’t alone. Fingers playing with the stems and petals of his clothes, wiping off the stray drops, Breannan thought about his friends. Corrie would scold him for being careless, their stern tone born from worry. Arleigh would grunt, leaving it to him to carry a conversation, something he wouldn’t have the energy for. Lish would fuss over him, which would be nice if something had happened, but… nothing had happened. Nothing but a misplaced overreaction. He really should have a better grip on himself than that. And anyway, he wouldn’t be able to get to any of them, so thinking about it was futile. He should busy himself with something he could do. Like finally getting off the floor.

Getting his limbs to obey him wasn’t as easy as it should have been, but he managed to drag himself up. With shaking hands, he brought the bucket over to the shelf. Breannan filled a cup — a fresh one, that much awareness he managed to gather — with water and drank slowly. He would have preferred tea, but that would take too long now. Instead he plucked a leaf off the mint plant, placing it on his tongue.

Letting the taste fill his mind, Breannan walked to his bookshelves. He wouldn’t be able to work on his materials now, not only because he didn’t have any water to spare for the paint. With how shaken he still was, he probably wouldn’t be able to focus much, so he picked a book of stories and fables. Book in one hand, a couple of colorful crystal lamps in the other, he walked into his bedroom. One by one, he touched the crystals, then let go of them. They started to glow, suspended in the air by their own magic. Red. Purple. Cyan. Green. Blue. Yellow.

Once the last lamp was ignited, Breannan settled on his bed, wrapping himself into one of his blankets. He started to read, the steady pattering of the storm outside background noise for legends of giant snakes and swampy secrets. He had read those pages often before, some lines of text so familiar to him, he could speak them from memory. Cradled by colorful light, it was comforting. Sometimes Breannan paused, for minutes or hours, his thoughts drifting, imagining a faraway land he had never visited.

The soft light of approaching dawn wasn’t the most welcome sight. He had been unable to find sleep, and now there were only a few hours left before he’d have to be in his class again. Giving a quick overview over the currencies used in other parts of the world, a concept that was foreign to the kalani. At least it was a dry topic, one that didn’t require much of his attention and left him able to hand out assignments for the students to work on on their own later. And it was one of the days where he didn’t teach his advanced class in the afternoon, so he could return home. Perhaps he’d finish the drawing, if he could fix the yellow. It was more likely he’d crawl into his bed, though.

Breannan got up, his limbs stiff and his core heavy. As he walked into the main room, his gaze fell on the almost finished drawing. Counting time really was both a blessing and a curse. Thirty-three days. Perhaps he’d visit soon now. Perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps the number would grow, turn into a forty, a fifty. Whatever it would be, life would go on, and Breannan would keep himself busy with teaching and studying, perhaps taking on a new responsibility or two. One day, his friend would visit again, and one day, Breannan would stop counting the time in between, and it would settle into a new routine.

One day. Not yet.

Thirty-three days.

Tagging: @villainsvictim @dont-touch-my-soup @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whump-cravings @frenchfries893​ @siren-of-agony​ @badthingshappenbingo​

[hurting-fictional-people]

Sooo, I think this is turning into an actual story guys. I have ideas for where this can go and one of them needs names to work so... yeah they are becoming OCs... Whumpee, Caretaker and Whumper are getting names next part because I’m indecisive and need to think on it lol but for this one, since I’ve been giving them more thought and shape: they are all men and the pronouns are ‘he’ now, okay? 

CW: needle mention, medical setting, infected wound, restrained and collared, held hostage, lots of angst because this is what this whole thing is about in the end, isn’t it?

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot (please tell me if you want me to stop or start tagging you <3)

Continued from here

-

There was a time when Whumpee could move and not feel pain because of it. When it didn’t hurt to do so much as breathe. There was a time when time didn’t blend together in an endless daze of please help me, it hurts.

He knows exactly where the pain comes from, that spot a knife had gone inside of him… days before? Weeks? But by now, it has spread along his entire body, and it all just hurts so much.

If only he could press his hands against the wound, see if it looks as ugly as it feels. If only he could curl up and sob. If only his hands weren’t tied above his head and he could move at all, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

His fingers have gone cold and numb what feels like hours before. He shifts and squirms but it only makes his wound burst in pain and barely anything for his aching arms. After some time, the pain is in his legs as well and if only he could move, just for a moment, it would be so much better. 

His head hangs awkwardly to the side, unable to move more than a few inches, kept close to the wall by the metal collar around his neck. He can’t sleep with it, because each time he does, his head hangs and he wakes up suffocating. He can’t move, because it hurts. All he can do is hope Whumper doesn’t forget he’s here.

So Whumpee just stares at nothing, wondering if the pain will ever fade, and only when it gets truly unbearable does he allow himself to think of Caretaker.

He’s left him here to rot. As he did before, as Whumpee should’ve known he would. 

But this pain is a lot deeper than the stabbing could ever be, so Whumpee closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing through the molten lava seeping into his bloodstream.

Time passes, or maybe it doesn’t, and Whumpee can’t focus on anything for long enough to know anything but pain. 

It’s a strange combination, the desperate need to move his cramped arms, restless legs, but also the bone-deep weakness he feels, the certainty that even if he wasn’t chained to the wall, he wouldn’t have the strength to do more than curl up on the floor. 

It all comes back to murmured pleas for mercy that are never heard, until even his voice is raw and aching and he just goes back to leaning limply against the wall and relishing the few minutes he gets of sleep.

Eventually, his tiny cell fills with noise and his eyes flutter open to find Whumper towering over him.

He’s only half awake, the other half refuses to swim out of the deep waters of troubled sleep, but as if through a thick layer of glass, Whumpee manages to discern a few words.

“…infection,” someone says, somewhere distant. “Shit, get the doctor, I–“

He only truly wakes up when the chains are unlocked and he’s hauled up, the only thing keeping him standing the unforgiving hands gripping his arms. People keep speaking, but he’s so consumed by pain that all Whumpee can hear is his own desperate whimpers as they move his inert body. 

-

Whumper isn’t smiling when Caretaker enters his office, for once.

“Took you long enough. Do you have what I asked for?”

“What you bribed me for, you mean?” Caretaker bites back, clutching the drive filled with information his team never expected him to leak. “Let me see Whumpee first.”

“We had a bit of a situation while you were gone.” Whumper sighs, getting up and nodding toward the door for Caretaker to follow. Two security guards walk behind them, and Caretaker’s stomach churns when he sees the others standing at each corner they pass. If it was only two, he could take them down. Surrounded as he is, his only hope is to play the game long enough for Whumper to slip up first. “So, apparently having his wrists chained above him wasn’t particularly good for a nearly closed wound. It got infected.”

The world stops for a moment, pauses in horror. And yet it keeps moving, somehow – Caretaker’s legs keep driving him forward, even if his heart turns into stone in his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with fear.

“He’s fine, though,” Whumper continues as if his last words hadn’t frozen Caretaker inside out. “I’ll let you see him, as a treat, before you give me the drive, just because this was not supposed to happen.”

There are no words, no nothing as Caretaker keeps walking, the motion automatic, hammering heart the only sound he hears.

They enter the medical wing Whumpee had been in before he left, and stop in front of a white door. Whumper is frowning when he opens it, but Caretaker only has eyes for the tiny figure lying on the bed.

He was always so stunned by how big Whumpee looked, even though he was always a few centimeters shorter. Loud laughs, passionate ideas, all love and wildness that could never be contained – it all made him so much bigger than anyone else.

But under white sheets, a needle stuck to his vein, and beeping machines all around him, Whumpee looks so small. Vulnerable. Alone.

“See, still breathing,” Whumper huffs behind him.

“If I give you the drive, will you let me take him away?” The question is low, whispered not to wake Whumpee up. Or maybe not to reveal how tight his chest feels. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Just hand it over and I’ll even let you hang around for a while.”

It isn’t reassuring at all, but Caretaker doesn’t even look at Whumper as he hands him the device, eyes still locked on each shallow breath Whumpee takes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. The room is filled with cameras and my men will be waiting outside,” Whumper warns before leaving.

Caretaker is beside the bed before the door is even fully closed. 

His eyes travel down each centimeter of Whumpee’s body, head to toe, from the way his eyes move from side to side underneath his eyelids to the padded restraint around his right wrist to the slight bulge of new bandages covering his stab wound. The wound Caretaker is guilty of.

He sits at the very edge of the bed, leans closer. Whumpee’s hand is cold when Caretaker holds it, but his cheek is warm under his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing his thumb along Whumpee’s jawline. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? And then I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling as the words bubble up, escaping the dam Caretaker had built so long ago, through the cracks Whumpee created with each trustful smile, each careful touch and disarming gentleness. The cracks Caretaker did his best to close, thought he did for a while. And then he woke up to Whumpee tied behind his back and found out his heart had never stopped bleeding for him.

“It should’ve been me. It should’ve never been you. I was the one supposed to be hurt, not you. Never you. I am so sorry, Whumpee, so, so–“

A sharp intake of breath makes Caretaker’s words die in his throat.

He cracks his eyes open and freezes when he finds Whumpee’s green gaze locked on him.

They stare at each other, one instant that lasts one thousand, a million words Caretaker wishes to say but knows he won’t. And then Whumpee’s eyes wander around the room, aimlessly stopping here and there, going back to Caretaker, half-lidded and lost somewhere else.

“I ha– I hate it,” Whumpee mumbles, “that you’re still… in m-my dreams.”

Its low, weak, and Caretaker side-glances the bag filled with clear liquid dripping into Whumpee’s veins before looking back at him and smiling faintly. “I know. It’s okay. I deserve your hate.”

“No. Not you. I hate me.”

“What?”

Whumpee blinks slowly, so slowly opening back drug-addled eyes that strain to focus on Caretaker’s face, and leans his cheek against Caretaker’s palm. “I hate me… for still… still… caring.”

And just like that, the world stops in its tracks again. A sob gets caught between Caretaker’s teeth, and he just stares at Whumpee as either exhaustion or medication takes him away again, and his head lolls on the pillow.

When Whumper comes to pick him up hours later, Caretaker is still standing on the same spot, still holding Whumpee’s limp hand, still staring at the peace sleep brings to that beautiful face. The peace he hasn’t seen since Caretaker himself took from him.

He doesn’t complain when he’s told to leave the room. Caretaker simply squeezes that tiny hand that hides under his and obeys. 

They go back to Whumper’s office, and Caretaker strains to focus on now, here, not the man lying on a hospital bed one floor above.

“Good visit?” Whumper teases.

“I did my part. Now let us go.”

There’s a weight inside of Caretaker’s stomach, and it is tied to that sleeping figure, to that lost gaze that’ll never leave his mind.

“I have a new offer.”

He knew this was coming. Caretaker hoped it wasn’t but he knew it from the moment he looked at Whumper’s ambitious eyes.

“I want you to work for me.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, and Caretaker crosses his arms over his chest. “In your dreams. Now do your part and let me grab Whumpee and go.”

“Um no, I don’t think I will.”

“Why should I trust you when you haven’t been true to your word twice now?”

A snorted laugh, a raise of brows. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I have Whumpee. He isn’t in shape for traveling right now, y’know? I’m doing him a favor keeping him here, giving him top-of-the-line medical care. You should be thanking me.”

“What do you want now, Whumper?” Caretaker sighs. Exhaustion is curling around his very bones, helplessness snaking up his throat, and he is just so tired of this. Of being sad and scared and guilty, even if he deserves every single drop of it.

“Go back to your team and feed me relevant information, and I’ll keep making sure that nasty infection doesn’t hurt Whumpee anymore than it already has. Do as I say, and he stays alive. You know the drill, don’t you?”

Caretaker doesn’t have the willpower to do more than close his eyes and fall into a chair, waiting to hear the details of one more betrayal he has no way to avoid. 

-

It makes no sense, truly, but when Whumpee wakes up, he is surprised to find himself alone. There was no one in the cell with him, there’s no reason to expect someone to be with him in the hospital-like room, but a part of him expects a warm hand on his either way.

Pieces of dreams float around his mind, barren rooms with monsters waiting in the dark, a crimson puddle of his own blood, familiar and unknown faces blurring together. And the one that felt the most real, the one dream he holds close to his heart even if he doesn’t want to.

Caretaker’s face, worried eyes, gentle touches, soothing and painful all at once. Murmured words, tearful apologies. A dream he wishes was real, knows it isn’t.

Whumpee closes his eyes when tears blur his vision, and brushes his fingers along his jawline in a phantom touch he hasn’t felt in so long but wishes he had.

(next)

[galaxywhump]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

[Masterlist]

This is a concept I’ve been toying with since January, but it never turned into anything more fleshed out. Inspiration suddenly struck, so here it is now. I’m not promising anything, the story’s more or less just a loose idea, but I’d love to do more with it.

cw: hero/villain whump, hero whumper, winged villain whumpee, defiant whumpee, capture, falling from a height, pinned down, struggling to breathe, restraints, drugging, needles, police, implied future captivity, alcohol mention, swearing.

~~~

When Oscar was caught, air left his lungs.

For a split second he felt relieved in a strange, detached way - the panic that was pushing him forward as he zigzagged between buildings was suddenly cut short when his pursuer caught up to him, when cold metal wound around his wings, pulling him down. His eyes went wide and his stomach sank as he was stopped mid-motion, and the fear accompanying the realization that he’d been caught finally rang in his mind.

No.

He flailed wildly, trying to free his wings, the last desperate attempt to free himself before he had to put his hands forward to break his fall, but once again his breath was knocked out of him when he hit the concrete. When he tried to get up despite the metal rope keeping his wings stretched out on the ground, there was a strange whooshing sound and something, two somethings, landed on him, pinned his neck and legs down, stopping him when he flinched violently.

No!

He tried to push himself upright, but whatever it was that was holding him down was merciless, and he closed his eyes and panted into the wet concrete. He’d been caught.

“Heya.”

There were footsteps, slow, lazy, somewhere behind him, and the… thing immobilizing him prevented him from looking back over his shoulder, leaving him no choice but to lie there pathetically, waiting to see who had defeated him. When the person entered his field of vision - or at least their sports shoes did - he looked up as much as the weight around his neck allowed, glaring.

“Well, that was a walk in the park”, the person laughed, and Oscar gritted his teeth and pulled his arms underneath himself, trying once again to push himself up with his elbows, but he was stuck, trapped, defeated, caught, caught, caught. “What, can’t free yourself? No powers, huh? Just these little flappers.”

“Who the hell are you?” Oscar snapped. The person didn’t answer - instead the pressure on his neck disappeared, and the object was sent flying to the side. It hit the ground with a horrible clangor, and Oscar finally saw what it was - a piece of metal shaped like a capital H, probably a piece of scaffolding, no doubt identical with the one pinning his legs down. He could finally prop himself up on his elbows and look up at the face of the person who defeated him - the face he’d seen on billboards and the news, the face of Bradley McKenna.

“You know me, don’t you?” Bradley flashed his teeth in a brilliant smile seeing the hint of recognition in Oscar’s eyes. “Would be weird if you didn’t.”

Of all the heroes he could’ve been way too close to for this robbery it had to be him. That explained why he got caught so easily in a neighborhood that was supposed to be pretty low-risk, but, as he realized, it also meant that escaping was way less likely than he’d hoped.

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood, don’t think you’re so important that they sent me to deal with you.”

“What an honor”, Oscar snarled and tried once again to drag himself forward - useless, but he had to, he couldn’t just lie there, he had to do something - to escape the scaffolding, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other piece being lifted off the ground by an invisible force once again before shooting in his direction, as if it was going to hit him with full force. He collapsed to the ground and shielded his head with his arms; there was no pain, no impact, and for a split second everything was silent. He dared to open his eyes, but at the exact same moment pain exploded in his back and once again he was out of breath when the scaffolding was dropped on him, straddling his waist this time.

“Shit!” he wheezed, and Bradley laughed, crouching down next to him.

“What, you think you’re going to escape? Sorry, buddy, but you’re done for. I’ve already called reinforcements, they’re on the way, and all you have to do now is relax and wait.” He patted Oscar on the back, right between the wings, ignoring the growled demand that he keep his hands to himself. “And aren’t you comfortable?”

He was freezing, trembling in the cold night air, only amplified by the concrete he was pinned to, still damp and unpleasant after a recent rainfall, and his terror wasn’t helping matters. 

“You could’ve at least brought a mattress”, he spat out a snark, which was met with laughter again.

“A sense of humor? Nothing quite like it in a criminal.”

They both flinched and Bradley’s head jerked up when the silence of the night was interrupted by the roar of a car engine getting closer, then powering down.

“Looks like your ride’s here!”

It hit all over again, the realization that it was the end of the line for him, that he was going to be taken away, that there was nothing he could do, that this was never supposed to happen. He lowered his head when footsteps echoed in the alley, but then he looked up again to give the approaching officers a hard stare, save the last bit of his dignity.

“An avian?”, one commented, addressing Bradley before turning to Oscar, tilting his head to the side with a condescending smile. “You’ve been causing some trouble around here, haven’t you? Glad that’s dealt with.”

Oscar didn’t reply, opting to simply glare instead, and the officer gestured to the other one, who approached too, taking something out of his pocket - a syringe, the sight of which made Oscar’s heart skip a beat.

“Is that really necessary?” Bradley asked, though his tone was nothing but lighthearted. “I doubt he’s dangerous.”

Oscar would be offended if he wasn’t scared out of his wits, and despite knowing too well that there was no escaping he started thrashing under the scaffolding again, which, as a surprise to no-one, achieved nothing. 

“It’s more convenient this way. Less hassle.”

The officer crouched down by his side and swiftly stuck the needle in his arm, and the perfected formula immediately weakened Oscar’s struggles and hazed his mind; he collapsed to the ground, feeling his awareness fade and his heartbeat slow down.

“There we go, you can remove that junk now.”

Bradley scoffed, but complied, and the scaffolding flew aside, not needed to keep Oscar immobilized anymore as he grew weaker and weaker, barely aware of his surroundings. The officers heaved him from the ground and began carrying him towards the car, with Bradley following them with a light step.

“Thanks for catching him”, one of the officers said with a nod towards Bradley. “He’s small fry, but he was annoyingly good at getting away.”

“No problem.” Bradley hummed to himself, slowing down until he stopped, frowning. “And, hm… Officer?”

“Yes?”

“I might keep him, actually.”

For a moment everything was still as Bradley’s words rang in the air, and he smiled to himself, his idea burning like an exciting spark in his mind. The officer chuckled quietly and nodded.

“Of course”, he said. “We’ll stay in touch, then.”

“Sure.”

Bradley watched as Oscar’s wings were restrained with plastic tape and his hands cuffed, and he was pushed into the back of the car, which then took off, leaving the neighborhood quiet again, with no one around to have witnessed what just happened. He turned around on his heel and walked away, heading towards his original destination - a club offering slightly more anonymity than those he usually frequented.

And now he had something to celebrate with a cocktail or two.

[next]

[thesleepy1]

My King Shall Have Everything

A/N: A fuck load of people seemed to like my last Merthur fic. I even got a request for a sequel from @antobcq who wanted a 5+1 fic where Arthur couldn’t get anything done without Merlin on his lap. I haven’t done one of these fics in ages but I’m down with this prompt. I also love the headcanon where Merlin is a better court member and adviser than Arthur and completely leaves Arthur in the dust during diplomatic meetings. Unbeta’d as always, we die like Arthur.

Extra note, this turned out much longer than I expected it to. This might be my longest fic yet. I didn’t mean for it to be like this but I spent too much time on it to just leave it alone. And much to my surprise, it’s a linear storyline as well. I hope you all enjoy it and feel free to give me some feedback. Do you prefer the linear storylines or short snippets of scenes? Also, kind of sorry for the slight angst. My bad. It got worse towards the end, I was getting really tired and wasn’t completely sure how to end it. It’s not on the highest note is all I’ll say.

Pairings: Merlin x Arthur, slight Gwen x Morgana

Summary: Five times Arthur couldn’t get anything done without Merlin on his lap and one time where Merlin couldn’t get anything done without Arthur on his lap.

Word count: 10,485

Warnings: Lap sitting, fluff, physical touch, sexual content, grinding, angst, wounds, violence, character death, more warnings to be added, more tags to be added, proceed with caution, breeding kink, impregnation kink, mentions of dub/con, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, eugenics, blood, gore, hurt/comfort, angst/comfort, whump, injuries, begging, character death, mentions of public executions, long fic, foul language, asphyxiation, strangulation, choking,

Arthur was good at many things, but being on time was not one of them. Especially, when at the end of the hall he had to attend a council meeting with some of the most stuck up people he had ever met, and that was saying something considering he had to spend the last winter with his extended family. His advisers had been up his ass all week about the new rising kingdom beyond the continent. A kingdom so far away, he had just heard of it several months prior. It was like the kingdom had appeared overnight, suddenly a new ink blotch taking over the lower side of the map.

Personally, he didn’t believe it was real in the first place, having a squadron of knights and hired mercenaries sail over to investigate this so-called Kingdom of Le Lubrique. Much to his disbelief, they didn’t come back empty handed and instead returned with a message. A greeting, as his advisers and Merlin had called it.

To Arthur, it was merely stiff aristocrats getting together in too large a room to talk about dull nonsense. Something he had enough of in his own kingdom. Every other month he was already forced to put on a brave face and converse with the other ruling kings and queens of the continent; he didn’t need another to add on to the mix. He already loathed the balls he was required to host.

“You’re late,” Merlin hissed at him as he entered through a side door so as to not alert the others of his presence.

“That’s kind of the point of me coming here long after the time I was supposed to, Merlin,” Arthur rolled his eyes, sneaking behind the other advisers present to his seat. Merlin begrudgingly followed right on his tail.

“This is serious Arthur, you should have been here ten minutes ago!” Merlin nagged a tad too loudly.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the great king of Camelot himself. I’m delighted to see you have graced us with the honor of your belated attendance,” said an adviser from the guest kingdom with a tone that made Arthur want to stab him, wars be damned.

“I hope you could excuse my tardiness just this once,” Arthur began, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. He looked over to Merlin for help, but the warlock looked clueless as usual. “It...was just that I was caught up with...making sure my...uh...husband’s family were making themselves at home. The in-laws are visiting, you see. You know how hard it can be to keep them happy.”

Merlin looked like he wanted to hang Arthur with his own entrails at the king’s quick thinking. Camelot’s advisers seemed to be considering throwing themselves from the window. And the guest advisers seemed content with Arthur’s answer; though not pleased.

“Oh, believe me,” one of them began, a tall woman with high cheekbones and piercing brown eyes, “I know exactly how tiring in-laws can be.” She let out a high pitched laugh like the sound of dying blue jays; the sound made Arthur want to join his advisers as they inched towards the open windows.

“Well, yes, hahaha, they can be quite a hassle. Especially people that are related to my husband here,” Arthur clapped his hands, smiling at Merlin as he took his seat at the head of the table, “Shall we properly begin then?”

Arthur truly and wholeheartedly regretted agreeing to the whole thing. It was hour after hour of mindless words with little to no meaning. They just went on and on about things that meant little to nothing. He tried to tune out their voices but the tall woman’s laugh was like the crack of a whip, bringing him back to reality each time someone made a vaguely funny comment.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” Merlin said in a hushed tone next to his side. Concern had brought his dark eyebrows together. Arthur was tempted to take his fingers and smooth out Merlin’s worry, but perhaps that was too intimate an act for a meeting. Then again, when did Arthur care about what other people thought of him and his husband.

“I’m fine, Merlin,” Arthur sighed, “Just so bored with all of this.”

“How could you be bored? Have you been listening to half of what they’ve been saying? For a kingdom so small they have so much potential. Their farmlands double ours, as well as their ores, and their medicine is even on par to Gaius’s.” Merlin continued on with such a light in his eyes that Arthur was distracted like a moth to a glowing flame.

“Arthur, have you been listening to what I’ve been saying?”

The king shook his head softly, slightly ashamed for not paying attention to his husband. “I’m sorry. I’m just so distracted. I need something to ground me if I’m going to survive another dreadful hour of this,” he groaned, thinking over if the fall from the window would kill him or lethally wound him. Either way, he’d be away from this horror with Merlin at his bedside playing nurse. At the private thought, an idea crossed his mind that had him delighted.

“You know what would help me?” Arthur began, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“What?” Merlin gave him a suspicious look, having seen the grin on the king many times before.

“It’ll really help if you were on my lap.” Merlin gave him an incredulous glare, ready to smack him across the back of the head for such a suggestion during such a crucial conference. “Please, Merlin? You really do help me focus.”

The warlock seemed to be thinking over Arthur’s request, a frown twisting his face. He looked like he was going to say no, but the pleading look on Arthur’s face made him change his mind. “Just this once. I don’t want to make a habit of this, Arthur,” Merlin warned in a hurried voice.

“Just this once,” Arthur lied through his teeth.

The second king of Camelot sat himself on the first, his side pressed against Arthur’s chest. Arthur wound his arm around Merlin and held him tightly. The action seemed to have garnered the attention of the visitors who looked at the pair strangely. And for some odd reason, the visiting ladies of the guest kingdom seemed to be glaring intently at Merlin.

“We are ever so sorry to be boring you, your majesty, but there is still much to discuss,” a visiting high lord coughed, glaring at the pair. “I apologize that our talk of declining population, racial biases against commoners and sorcerers, and ever so low birth rates have made you tired, but considering it may be the undoing of Le Lubrique, I deem it vital,” he practically snarled.

Arthur’s grip on Merlin tightened, his other hand palming Merlin’s thighs. The warlock couldn’t hide the grin that was stretched across his beautiful face at the touch. The king absolutely loved that grin. Arthur glared right back at those who dared question his behavior, for him showing his love for his king. He sounded in a stern voice that left no room for argument, “No apologies needed. Please, continue.”

“Don’t let us disturb you,” Merlin added with a more snarky tone, commanding the same amount of respect. “You have our full attention.”

-----

“Must I attend? You’ll be there, is that not enough?” Arthur whined as Merlin buttoned up his shirt.

“We are hosting a party in the Kingdom of Le Lubrique’s honor. Their queen has traveled all the way here to properly meet us,” Merlin pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek for the effort. “Must I continue?”

“Only if you wish, my dear,” Arthur pointed to his other cheek, waiting for the same treatment as the other.

Merlin rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to Arthur. “I’m serious, Arthur, this could mean an all out war or the strongest of ally ship. I mean, have you read the reports of what their kingdom is like? It sounds, and excuse for my word choice but there really is no other way to describe it; magical. I would love to visit the country myself. If we make a good impression they might invite us for a stay,” he continued, tying a red handkerchief with Camelot’s crest around his own neck.

“And that’s why the second king of Camelot would be in attendance.”

Merlin left Arthur in their room after that, knowing that Arthur would follow him. “Are you really going to make me sit there and listen to them go on and on about their plan to repopulate their country, or over tax their people for the food that’s in abundance? Come on, Merlin, we could have our council handle it.” Arthur stepped in front of Merlin to block his way. “Why don’t we head back to our room and make this a more entertaining night?” he wiggled his eyebrows to make sure Merlin got his point.

Merlin heard him loud and clear and rightfully ignored Arthur’s attempt to get into his pants. He sidestepped the man to continue on his path, turning a corner to the ballroom. “Do you hear yourself? What kind of impression would that give Le Lubrique if you just suddenly disappeared?!” Arthur turned to run back to their room just to prove Merlin’s point, but the warlock quickly magicked him back to his side. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

And that was how Arthur ended up sitting on his throne, bored out of his mind and unwilling to be civil or sociable when he could have spent the entire evening snuggled inside Merlin. He could have been in bed by now, having Merlin moaning his name underneath him, but instead Arthur watched as the guest and court mingled and danced. The instrumentalists bobbed their heads in tune to their upbeat song.

Despite refusing to speak to anyone besides Morgana, and Merlin, and occasionally Gwen when she could spare a moment from dancing; he had learned quite a bit about their guests. The fact that although they had a vast amount of farmlands, they had little people to work in them. Which came as a shock to Arthur because he had learned earlier on that Le Lubrique consisted of mostly sorcerers.

Le Lubrique’s queen was the tall woman with a voice that made Arthur’s ears bleed. Her lady in waiting seemed to be a distant relative from their shared trait of high cheekbones, drowning brown eyes, and dark hair. The two were glued at the hip, her lady in waiting obsessively trailing behind her like a newborn duckling wherever they went. They were both strong magic users if Merlin’s gushing was anything to go by. And also very beautiful with fancy perfume that complimented each other so nicely that they smelt like heaven, from Merlin’s words of course, not his. If Arthur didn’t know any better, he would think Merlin fancied them; the queen and her lady in waiting.

Even when the queen was dancing with a number of council members, the servant would be right next to her. It was quite amusing to watch them struggle to sway in time with the music. Arthur had already made bets with Gwen on the number of times party guests would refuse dances with the pair because they refused to separate. So far Arthur was winning.

That was until the queen smugly asked Merlin for a dance. Her lady in waiting immediately stepped away like someone had called for her assistance, leaving the queen alone with Merlin. Much to Arthur’s disappointment, Merlin happily accepted the dance. He took the queen’s hand and off they went, twirling around as if they were the only ones in the room. His hands on her shoulder and waist, her hands virtually tearing his clothes from his chest.

The way the queen of Le Lubrique looked at Merlin made a sick feeling build up from the pit of Arthur’s stomach. She was undressing him with her eyes, the brown in her gaze turning an almost pitch black from lust. The woman said something that made Merlin taken aback, something about dragons and druids, but it was hard to hear from the chatter of the room. For all Arthur knew, it could have very well been a spell.

Merlin recovered quickly with a grin and laugh that had Arthur’s heart skipping a beat. Then the two of them had the audacity to continue dancing as if nothing had happened, the queen still shamelessly pulling at Merlin’s fine clothes that only Arthur was allowed to rip away.

Arthur didn’t know why Merlin didn’t stop the queen when she pulled his handkerchief from his neck. The king was almost killed for even playing with Merlin’s handkerchief and now this woman was doing the same without losing an arm and a leg? Completely unfair. That was proof in itself, she had casted a spell on Merlin.

“Merlin,” Arthur called out to his husband sternly only to be ignored once more. “Merlin,” Arthur stepped away from his throne, making his way towards his husband and the queen.

“I think you should go to bed before things get ugly,” Morgana gently warned Gwen, gesturing towards Arthur’s outburst. “It could either go well or we’ll die of secondhand embarrassment.”

“Thank you for your concern, my love,” Gwen replied with a smirk, “But I want to see how this unfolds.”

Morgana laughed at that, glancing between Arthur and Merlin. “Suit yourself.”

The two high ladies watched as Arthur pulled Merlin away from the queen of Le Lubrique, dragging him away from the woman as she stared on in horror. To Gwen's and Morgana’s surprise, the queen tried to pull Merlin back into her arms. Merlin seemed to be in a daze throughout the whole skirmish. His eyes glazed over, even from afar.

“Should we step in?” Gwen asked with concern, ready to intervene.

“Arthur can handle it, probably.”

The queen called her lady in waiting to help her. Three heads tugged at poor Merlin like he was flax rope at a kingdom fair. The lady in waiting tried to block Arthur from getting a good grip on Merlin while the queen tried to take more of Merlin’s clothes off. A crowd was forming and Morgana distinctively noticed coins being passed around in bets.

“Are you sure, my love?”

“Oh, It's just getting good,” Morgana grinned like a Cheshire cat. “How much are you willing to bet, my beloved?”

Finally, as the crowd began cheering, Arthur twisted out of the lady in waiting’s grip and grabbed hold of Merlin’s waist. The king lifted the warlock up in a bridal carry and turned on his heel for his throne, the crowd parting in heckles and laughs. Arthur blatantly ignored them, sitting down on his throne with Merlin in his lap. Unfortunately, he was unable to retrieve Merlin’s handkerchief, a matter he will surely not hear the end of for quite some time. But between a measly piece of fabric and Merlin’s life, Arthur would choose Merlin time and time again, his own life be damned.

Taking a moment to throw a sneer at Gwen and Morgana who were snickering, Arthur tried to shake Merlin out of the haze. “Are you alright, Merlin?” He stroked Merlin’s arms gently, trying to bring him back to the present. His blue gray eyes were a stormy glaze, seemingly out of it. It made an ugly feeling swirl around in Arthur’s head, the fact that some queen had touched his Merlin in such a way made Arthur sick.

Merlin shuddered in Arthur’s hold, looking down at himself and then at the ballroom floor where others had returned to dancing. Confusion crossed his face, “Of course, I’m alright,” he furrowed his eyebrows, “How did I get here?” Merlin rubbed at his temple, trying to soothe the ache that had formed there.

“Arthur carried you like the jealous brute he is,” Morgana explained, passing Gwen a handful of coins.

“Jealous brute?” Merlin questioned, looking at the trio for a real explanation.

Arthur was about to defend himself when a member of Le Lubrique’s court approached them. “Haha, I couldn’t help but notice the spectacle that you put on there, sire,” the man addressed Merlin.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow.”

The man laughed again, mirth in his eyes. “I guess you wouldn’t,” he said vaguely, “The queen does have a way with words.”

“What do you mean by that?” Arthur butted in, holding Merlin a tad too tight. Merlin squirmed in Arthur’s lap but Arthur seemed to hardly notice.

“Well, you are a warlock, aren’t you, sire?” the man addressed Merlin once more. Merlin nodded despite himself. “A warlock as well as a dragonlord under the queen’s attention is bound to feel the efforts of her magic. And her special attention for that matter, hahaha.”

“Sorry,” Merlin began, more confused than before. “What do you mean by that expactly?”

“Our queen is a lovely dragon tamer. Her family is the last of their kind. Although taming a dragon is much easier when you have someone who can speak to the creatures,” the man laughed as if telling a joke only he knew the punchline to and walked away as if nothing had happened.

Least to say, the rest of the night Arthur didn’t let Merlin out of his sight. He had no idea what a dragon tamer was and Merlin seemed as lost as he was, but he wasn’t taking any chances. No one was going to “tame” his lover. Whatever that meant. Morgana and Gwen could laugh and call him jealous all they want, Arthur only had Merlin’s best interest at heart.

“I doubt having me be a lap warmer is in my best interest.”

-----

It had been weeks and Arthur naively thought they were done interacting with the kingdom of Le Lubrique. He had hoped to be finished with the rising kingdom, to leave them alone as long as they left him be.

He was rarely fortunate these days. Never even.

Apparently, Merlin was not deterred by almost being kidnapped by the queen and her lady in waiting. Merlin even said he enjoyed their company and their attention to his every breathing word. Arthur loved the man, but sometimes he could be quite an idiot.

Merlin, without Arthur’s knowledge, had invited a member of Le Lubrique’s court to stay at the castle. Who else to volunteer to come to Camelot but the queen’s lady in waiting. She was only supposed to be in the kingdom for a couple of weeks, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. That couple of weeks turned into a couple of months and eventually the woman practically lived there. She had made herself at home on day one, much to Arthur’s dismay. He couldn’t really kick her out without making a bad impression towards her kingdom, despite what her queen had already done.

He was a king. Much to his reluctance, he had to act like it. And that meant acting like you liked people that you hated to the core.

“And these are our forests,” Arthur gestured to the thick wall of trees that signified the beginning of the woods. “I typically take neighboring kings hunting here. If you’re interested, we can go if you’d like.”

Sylvy, the lady in waiting, sat on her horse with her head held high. For someone with a position like her’s, she acted like she was queen herself. Arthur had spent the whole day trying to show her around for the utmost time. She was never satisfied with what he showed her, as if she were looking for a break in the walls of the kingdom.

Every morning she demanded to be taken around on a tour and every afternoon she was left with a deep frown on her face. Nothing made her happy it seemed, and Arthur had truly tried to make her feel at the very least, welcomed. It was just so difficult to do so with the knowledge of what she had done to Merlin. Had enchanted him, put him in a daze of some sort.

If Camelot still had the ban on magic, she would’ve been dead the moment she laid a hand on Merlin. On the crown’s orders, she would have been hung or burned, some form of public execution. Her dark hair would go up in flames as the fire burned higher and higher, her head would hang low as the bucket was kicked out underneath her. Arthur was still considering having her prisoned for what she did and simply explained to her queen that there had been a freak accident. If he were a lesser man, a lesser king, he would’ve done so and let it be a warning.

“I despise hunting as a sport, it’s just mindlessly cruel,” she snarled, her lips curling as a show of disdain. She held the reins to her horse like a vice, afraid that she’d be ripped from the saddle and forced to participate in such barbaric practices. At least, that was what Arthur thought was swimming through her mind.

“Yes, yes, but some like the adrenaline rush of a good hunt,” Arthur explained without real passion, merely a form of continuing the dry conversation. Sylvy had woken him up so early that morning he barely had a chance to give Merlin a goodbye kiss. “Some have to do it to survive.”

“There are other ways to live,” Sylvy began, urging her horse to turn by towards the main part of the kingdom, seeing as they were on the outskirts. “Le Lubrique for one replies solely on farmlands. We have no need for meat or the slaughtering of innocent animals. Everyone can live without such a horrible act; people and sorcerers alike. Meat is simply murder.”

Arthur half heartedly nodded, trailing behind her while trying not to fall off his horse. “I can’t argue with you there.” He didn’t want to argue with about anything her to be truthful, he had had enough of that already.

They traveled at a moderate trot in silence before she spoke up again. “Why haven't you invited me to a council meeting? I’ve been here for ages. Surely you have these sorts of things at least once a month.” She tried to act nonchalantly, but Arthur could see right through her. “I mean, there must be all sorts of things to discuss. An heir to the throne for one, seeing as neither you nor king Merlin can bear children.”

“We just haven’t had any council meetings, nothing interesting to report that couldn’t be done with a quill and parchment is all,” Arthur lied with a fake smile she could not see. “And an heir doesn’t need to be of blood. They just need to be taught how to properly command a kingdom like a fair and just ruler. To know what’s best for a kingdom, who to trust and who to leave behind in the woods.”

A look of abhorrence lingered on Sylvy’s face at Arthur’s words, bothered that he would even say such a thing. But Arthur was right, it didn’t matter if his heir was not his child as long as they were just and fair to all that passed them. Arthur could only imagine what Le Lubrique was like if all their subjects thought the same way Sylvy did. It must be all out war for them if a bastard appeared in court one day; though in reality royal bastards were a dime a dozen.

Sylvy went quiet for a moment, calculating her words while mulling over what Arthur had said. “With a kingdom as large as yours, surely there’s action all around? Suitable women all around. Something worthwhile must have happened during my stay,” her voice took on a tone that Arthur didn’t like, a light flush painting her cheeks like some teenage girl with a crush, “What about king Merlin?”

“What about my husband?”

“What has he been up to?” Sylvy asked indifferently, trying to hide her curiosity from Arthur. If only she would try to hide that damn blush. Merlin was physically attractive, Arthur knew this as an undeniable fact, but to be so unabashed while in front of the man’s husband? What was he? The first king of Camelot reduced to chop liver. Unbelievable!

“Well, he’s the second king of Camelot. A king’s job is never done. There is always more work than one man can handle. I should know, I used to be the one doing all the work.”

They reached town just as Sylvy took on an accusatory tone, “Then what are you doing here?”

Arthur resisted the urge to strangle her in front of so many people. His fists clenched around his reins so hard his knuckles turned ivory. “I’m showing you around, just as you had requested,” Arthur gritted through his teeth, trying so very hard not to glare at her.

“And here I was, hoping to attend a meeting with the second king.”

“Really now?” Arthur could feel the mare under him shuffle on her hooves at his fury. “You know what? There might be one later today.” What he had planned was so unbelievably petty and a tad childish, but at this point, he didn’t give a damn. Sylvy was getting on his last nerve. “I’ll have a servant call you when it’s time. For now, why don’t you explore our lovely town by yourself? Walk around without a king hovering over you and all. That way, I could get back to doing my job.”

Sylvy brightened up in spite of Arthur’s words. A smile was forming on her face, her high cheekbones pushed up even farther. Her brown eyes crinkled at the notion that she’ll be able to see Merlin. “I can’t wait,” she said, unsaddling and handing the reins to her horse to Arthur. “I must get ready,” she said to herself loud enough for Arthur to hear.

“Take all the time you need.”

Arthur would regret those words later that night when he sat among his advisers. Sylvy, their honored guest was over half an hour late and the others were beginning to feel on edge. Many of them were not planned for a meeting so soon after the one they had earlier that week. It was an unprompted get together for the lady in waiting’s sake, Arthur had explained to them.

On days like these Arthur was glad he was king and that there’d be grave consequences if he were murdered by one of his advisers. They would be in the right to do so, kill him that is; but he was hoping to live long enough to raise a couple of children with Merlin.

“Why are we doing this, Arthur?” Merlin asked, hiding a yawn with his hand. While Arthur was riding around the kingdom with Le Lubrique’s queen’s lady in waiting, Merlin was left to run the kingdom by himself. The haunted task of commanding and keeping an eye on so many people was taking its toll on the sorcerer. Merlin hadn’t properly slept in days, too busy keeping the kingdom in one piece.

“Sylvy wanted to be present for a council meeting. As a member of Le Lubrique’s court, we have to answer to her call until her stay is up.” Merlin gave him a look that called Arthur out on his poorly constructed plan. “And I may or may not want her to know that you’re taken.”

Merlin rolled his eyes along with most of the present court. They should all be used to Arthur’s antics at this point. What were they expecting? An honest to god meeting to discuss important topics with their visitor from foreign lands? Never. A fake meeting just so Arthur could flaunt the fact that Merlin loved him and not some conceited queen and her lady in waiting? That was more like it.

“Sometimes I can’t believe I asked you to marry me,” Merlin yawned again, giving Arthur a tired look in more ways than one.

“Feels just like a dream, doesn’t it?”

“More like a nightmare.”

“You love me,” Arthur opened up his arms so Merlin could take his place on the king’s lap. Merlin shook his head at the gesture, so incredibly done with Arthur. “Come on, Merlin. You know you like it here.” He teasingly patted his lap. “You can rest until our guest arrives.”

“Fine,” Merlin said begrudgingly after a moment of hesitation, his mind clouded by the want for sleep. “But you better wake me up when she comes.”

“Of course,” Arthur assured, inviting Merlin over once more. This time Merlin made himself home on Arthur’s lap, his head going to rest on Arthur’s chest. He curled in Arthur’s lap like second nature, having done this so many times over the years. Arthur wrapped his arms around the younger man, making sure he was supported and comfortable. Merlin fit perfectly nonetheless. Within moments, a soft snoring sound could be heard from the man on Arthur’s lap, content in where he sat. The second king finally got the rest he deserved. “I wouldn’t wake you for the world,” Arthur whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Merlin’s arm and leg.

Another half an hour passed achingly slowly without the esteemed lady in waiting’s presence. Arthur was about to call off the whole thing and make his way to his bedchamber when at last, the doors to the room opened to reveal Sylvy. She was no longer dressed in her usual servant attire with its cream apron and blue gray dress. Instead she had ransacked the queen’s wardrobe, wearing something befitting a ball.

The dress was elegant and detailed with silk and satin; a deep shade of bourbon that brought out her brown eyes. Her hand was even done up in cascading dark curls that perfectly fell from the knot atop her head. A glittering wine hair piece sat nestled against her hair, matching perfectly with the studs in her ears. She was beautiful even without the time spent enhancing what was already there, but now she stood ready to rule a kingdom.

Sylvy took her seat across from where Merlin would have sat. “Where is king Merlin?” she asked, not noticing that the man in question was currently sleeping on Arthur’s lap.

“I’m sorry for how unprepared we were, but I can relate to your troubles of not having enough hands to run a kingdom. My husband had taken the task of ruling all alone while I tended to your needs.” Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s hair when he stirred in his sleep, continuing on his over sweetened words. “He’s beyond exhausted, but still wanted to take part in our meeting. Please understand that he really did try his best to stay awake.”

The emotions that crossed Sylvy’s face came in a blur; she was unreadable. But one thing was for sure, Arthur had won this small battle. He had shoved Merlin’s unquestionable favor for him in the lady in waiting’s face. Merlin was his and his alone. For good measure Arthur pressed a deep kiss onto Merlin’s lips, the sorcerer smiling in his sleep.

His advisers on the other hand felt cheated. If the death glares shot his way were anything to go by. Though there was one from Sylvy as well. A lot of people wanted him dead at the moment. But he was perfectly happy. They could string him up after the meeting for all he cared, the unintelligible look on Sylvy’s face was worth it. She was utterly speechless.

“I’m ever so sorry we were late to start, but would you like to commence this meeting?” Arthur asked like a gentleman with a cocky grin, making sure to stare right at Le Lubrique’s envoy.

-----

When Sylvy left Arthur rejoiced. She was finally out of his hair. Things could go back to normal and he could go back to spending his free time with Merlin instead of on horseback through a bare orchard. No matter how many times Arthur explained to Sylvy that their crops were not aided by magic like Le Lubrique’s, Sylvy insisted on seeing their “mortal” development.

Everything was put back into its rightful place. He couldn’t wait to put everything about Le Lubrique behind him and move on.

He was back on the throne with Merlin, leading the kingdom just as they were before the whole ordeal with Le Lubrique. Their advisers especially liked the fact that Arthur was back with Merlin; it meant less work for them. The moment that Sylvy left their grounds, Camelot’s advisers piled parchment after novel after demands on his table.

Those selfish bastards.

The so-called requests were so thick that Merlin didn’t even make a sarcastic comment comparing it to Arthur’s ass, and, or his thick skull; the warlock simply went to work. If Arthur himself wasn’t already terrified of the workload, he would have shocked himself to the grave at Merlin’s willingness to submit to their advisers. The two kings of Camelot knew when they met their match.

What felt like weeks passed where Arthur and Merlin did nothing but what their advisers ordered. They were slaves to their own court. The two didn’t leave their room for anything, not food, not training, not even a breath of fresh air. Their knights would occasionally knock on their door to make sure they were both still alive, but once the knights of the round table had been turned down a couple dozen times, they stopped caring. Merlin and Arthur shut off the world. They were practically locked in there, all because of their own doing.

Well, mostly Merlin’s doing. He was the one who invited the envoy over and wanted to make peace with the new kingdom. Arthur had nothing to do with that prolonged visit from the devil, he was only paying the price. His hands ached like it had been shorn off at the wrists, his back screaming for him to rest. He didn’t remember the last time he touched his bed, the neatly tucked in linens calling him to slumber. But he couldn’t, neither of them could until their work was done. Their kingdom depended on it and their kingdom came first, Arthur and Merlin’s comfort second. They both knew what they had signed up for when they decided to wed.

“A-Arthur,” Merlin groaned late one night, the sun mere minutes from the horizon.

Arthur immediately looked up from his book, putting his full attention on Merlin who was on the other side of the room. Neither of them had talked in days besides the few grunts they exchanged while passing over important text. The fact that Merlin was straining his voice now meant something serious was going on.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur coughed, his throat parched and dry as a desert.

“I-I-” Merlin began, rubbing harshly at his hurt eyes, “I think that’s the last one.” The sorcerer signed one more parchment with a flick of his wrist, setting it aside to dry along with the rest.

And the thing was, Merlin was right. There was no more work to go through, to tirelessly read; everything was finally done. “I’m so tired I don’t think I can see straight, b-but that was it!”

“What?”

“We’re finished, you clophole," Merlin smiled, taking Arthur’s breath away.

Arthur leapt out of his seat, pure joy masking the aches and pains as he rushed over to Merlin’s side. The king pulled the sorcerer from his chair, lifting the man into the air, Arthur kissed Merlin like it was their wedding day. Deep and full of all the longing he had for the man, grasping at him as if he could protect Merlin from the world.

He only pulled back for air, inhaling lungfuls before pressing his lips back against Merlin’s. Arthur missed his husband so damn much despite having worked across the room for each other. He hadn’t touched the other man in ages, it was heaven to feel his heartbeat beneath his pained fingers. To kiss down Merlin’s pale neck and mark him until the whole castle knew exactly what they had been up to. To pull at Merlin’s clothes, ripping his tunic right off of his chest, the buttons flying across the room.

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned, gently pushing Arthur back so he could speak. “I liked that shirt.”

Arthur thumbed at Merlin’s trousers, holding his hips tight enough to leave marks that Merlin would feel for days to come. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“But my mother made me that one,” Merlin complained, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck. His strong hand went to cup Arthur’s cheek, making the king look at him. Forcing the king to calm down and evaluate things. “We have to get something to eat too, dear,” Merlin told Arthur in a loving tone. “We’re both too exhausted for this.”

“I’m never too tired for you,” Arthur bit back, leaning into Merlin’s hand. He may have been putting his weight on Merlin’s desk so as to not fall over, but Merlin didn’t need to know that. Arthur could most definitely ravage Merlin while on the brink of death.

Merlin pulled Arthur close to kiss him softly, “If we go to bed now, then we can spend all of next day together,” Merlin tried to bargain, eyes teary from lack of any sort of sleep. “You’re going to hurt yourself, you ass,” he chuckled with a small smile that made his eyes crinkle with mirth.

“I don’t want to,” Arthur whined, “I’ve worked for weeks on end. Now I want my reward for behaving.” Arthur sat back on Merlin’s desk, pulling the man on top of him. The desk groaned under their combined weight, but Arthur hardly cared when he had Merlin on his lap and straddling his thighs. “You’re all I want.” He embraced Merlin, the warlock half naked and moaning as Arthur kissed along his arm. His mouth sucked at Merlin’s skin, teeth leaving markings on pale skin claiming Merlin as his. Arthur worshiped Merlin until his stormy eyes were hazy with unabated lust.

“Just you….”

Arthur slumped forward, out like a dying candle before he even knew it. Merlin had to stifle a laugh, though he doubted anything would wake Arthur then. The king was out cold, snoring like there was no tomorrow. Too bad Merlin had to carry his fat ass over to their bed. The warlock was beginning to rethink their plans for tomorrow. Sometimes he wished Arthur wasn’t such a stubborn ass and listened to him. It would save them both the trouble, Merlin was right most of the time after all.

“Get some rest, you oaf,” Merlin said to the asleep man, tucking him into their bed. Arthur’s blonde hair was like a halo against their stark white pillow, the dark bags underneath his eyes a contrast with the paleness of his skin. His old tunic was a dull red from overuse, the buttons holding onto the fabric for dear life. Merlin stripped Arthur of his boats and stuffy tunic leaving both men in their trousers. A much better way to sleep if anyone asked.

“Good night, Arthur,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s ear, snuggling up against the king. He threw the blankets over himself and laid on Arthur’s chest. The pull of sleep had Merlin out just as quickly, the moment he allowed his breath to even out, there was nothing that would stop him from getting the well earned sleep that he so needed.

“Rest well, Merlin,” Arthur answered in a murmur, pulling Merlin in close. “Sweet dreams, you idiot.”

-----

“Arthur, calm down and try to see reason!” Merlin all but yelled at the king without his crown. The man in question was in his knight gear, armor and chainmail strapped tightly to his body for protection. His sword hung to his side, within reach at all times. Arthur could feel something ominous looming on the horizon, it was Merlin who was still seeing the world with rose colored glasses.

“I tried to see reason. I tried to play nice. And this is what I get in return,” Arthur gestured to the pile of charred wood on the round table. Wood that was once the homes of innocent farmers who played no part in the altercations of royals. People that Arthur was supposed to protect, their livelihoods and homes included. “We were nothing but good to them and this is what happened. Dozens of houses burned to nothing overnight!”

“We have to act now, Merlin.”

“Going in there with your swords raised in offence isn’t going to do anything but start an all out war,” Merlin insisted, urging Arthur to reel himself in, to not lash out at the closest thing. If it were anyone else Merlin would have already smacked them over the head for raising their voice at him. Unfortunately, Merlin was sleeping with the man and didn’t want to be smothered in his sleep. “That’s what Le Lubrique wants; a reason to fight. We can’t give them that.”

“Then what exactly do you expect us to do, Merlin?” Gwen piped in across the table from Merlin. Morgana stood to her side, eyes darting between all the speakers in a frenzy. “They attacked first. It’s only right that we return what they have given us.” Gwen picked up a piece of wood, charcoal rubbing off on her hands as she turned it over. “Arthur is right, we just can’t sit idle.”

Merlin stared at Gwen, hoping that she would be on his side on this. She solemnly shook her head, denying her friend’s offer. Gwen wanted to go on the offence just as much as Arthur, her friends were harmed when Le Lubrique’s soldiers set fire to a section of the kingdom. They burned down acres of farmland, dozens of homes with children and elderly. Luckily, nobody was killed in the process but many were harmed. Gwen wanted vengeance for them. She was a loyal ruler, loyal to her people.

“And we won’t,” Merlin bargained, “We won’t let them gain any more than they already have. No one here knows exactly what they want from us, but we do know that they’re willing to play dirty to get it,” he went on, talking with his hands to release some of the tension. “Let me be a spy and-”

“Absolutely not.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“No,” Arthur said firmly, daring Merlin to argue. “You stay right here with me. I will not have you risking your life for measly information.”

“It's not measly information, Arthur. It could be the difference between thousands dead and a simple treaty. We don’t know what Le Lubrique wants, but if we do, we could try to bargain with them. No blood needs to be shed,” Merlin tried, laying a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, forcing the man to look at him. “The queen wants me. She made that very clear. She won’t hurt me if she thinks I’m on her side.”

Arthur stared at Merlin, watching the sorcerer for any sign of hesitation. When he saw nothing of the sort Arthur sat down in his chair with a huff. Merlin really wanted to do this. Spy work is equal to a as rushing in with their flag flying and swords shining; both could end with Merlin buried six feet under. Even the implication had Arthur feeling like hell.

“How am I supposed to get anything done with you gone?” Arthur questioned genuinely, much to the snickers of the knights and ladies. “I can’t function without you,” this was whispered softly to Merlin, just for Merlin.

The anger and stress dissipated from Merlin’s eyes, his shoulders slacked in resignation. Realization slowly but surely dawned on the sorcerer. Arthur was simply afraid. The first king of Camelot was worried, on the brink of tears from it if anyone looked close enough. Merlin rolled his eyes, even after all these years Arthur was still undoubtedly the same.

Without a care for the other people in the room, Merlin sat down on Arthur’s lap, hands on the other’s chest to stabilize himself. Merlin leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips, cradling his jaw like it was something breakable. “Everything will be alright, Arthur. I can protect myself just fine,” Merlin reassured in a careful voice, stroking Arthur’s cheek. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always feel empty without you, Merlin." Arthur pulled Merlin in for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. The two only pulled away for air and even then they went back for more. They couldn’t have enough of the other, constantly needing to feel the other person. A give and take only the other could provide. “What am I supposed to do if you don’t return?” Arthur asked quietly, resting his forehead on Merlin’s. “How am I supposed to live?”

“I promise to you, you’ll never have to find out. You’re stuck with me," Merlin smirked, running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. "Till death do us part, darling.”

Arthur wished he could believe Merlin’s promise. He swore on his mother’s grave that if Merlin fulfilled his promise that he’ll listen to everything Merlin has to say. He’ll never question Merlin again, never talk back to the warlock, shove his stubbornness down and never speak of it again. Arthur would have done anything for Merlin, only the man asked.

Not a month later Arthur received news in the form of a messenger. Le Lubrique had declared war on any who dared try to take the last living dragonlord from them. Merlin was theirs, they stated, the dragonlord belonged to dragon tamers. The two are vital for the continuation of dragons in the old religion. One to gain their trust, the other to keep the creatures in chains where they belong. Any and all who tried to take away their dragonlord would be faced with lethal consequences.

At that Arthur sent the messenger to be put into the stocks. Lethal consequences. Arthur will show them just how deadly he could be. Le Lubrique will pay, a month without Merlin was torture but if they dared to lay a hand on Merlin they would all burn. Gwen was absolutely right, Arthur required vengeance, he wanted them all to feel just what angering Camelot will do, what angering him will do.

And after making such a claim over Merlin’s life, Arthur will show them no mercy. Le Lubrique had declared war on Camelot and Arthur would answer tenfold.

------

It took around two weeks for Arthur to prepare for battle against a kingdom full of sorcerers. Another week was spent traveling with his soldiers over land and sea. Through it all he couldn’t help but be eaten alive by the nagging feeling that he was too late. That he would arrive only to find ash; bones if he was lucky. Day and night he was slowly being killed by the fact that he could very well be walking into his husband’s grave.

“He’s going to be okay,” Morgana reassured him one day as he leaned against the railing of their ship. They were perhaps an hour if not less from shore and Arthur hadn’t slept a wink. He could feel exhaustion mixing with the worry brewing in his mind, ready to overflow at a single inconvenience. His sword was once again at his side, the memory making everything so much worse. “Merlin will be teasing you for worrying so much if he were here.”

“But he isn’t, is he, Morgana?” Arthur said more harshly than he intended. “He could already be dead for all we know.” And it would be all Arthur’s fault, though he kept that notion to himself. By the look on Morgana’s face, she must have been thinking the same thing.

“It's not your fault, Arthur. Merlin chose to go on his own free will.”

“But I was the one who allowed it,” Arthur bit back, standing straight on his feet. “I sent him to his death.”

“You don’t know that,” Morgana crossed her arms. She should be used to Arthur’s self destructive behavior but even this was getting too much for her. “If what that messenger said was true, Merlin’s probably being pampered to death.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to have said because Arthur’s despair did not lighten. It seemed to have gotten worse. “What if he likes it better with Le Lubrique’s court? I’m no warlock, I can’t compete with their magic!”

“Arthur, you’re overthinking this,” Morgana was done with Arthur’s antics. She was ready to gag him and throw him in the ship’s makeshift prison cell until they had properly docked. “Merlin will run right into your arms the moment he sees you. I’m willing to bet on it, just you wait and see. Merlin loves-”

At Morgana’s silence, Arthur looked over to the direction of her gaze. Their ship was making speed but Arthur suddenly wished they had stopped right where they were and sink. The sight took Arthur’s breath away, making his blood go cold. Le Lubrique was burning and it looked like it had been burning for a very long time. There was no shoreside to speak of, just endless flickering flames. Where the castle should have been standing tall like a beacon was nothing but flames, ruble, and ash.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled even though his voice would not carry that far. “Merlin!” he called again, his heart sinking to his stomach. He wanted to drown at sea. He never wanted to reach the shore, to be lost in the ocean and never have to face what he already knew was there. The absence of what he knew should’ve been. “Merlin!” he shouted even though it was futile.

“Arthur, please!” Morgana struggled to pull him back from the side, afraid he’ll jump and swim the rest of the way himself. Or worse. “Just an hour, please. That’s all you have to wait for. You- you don’t know for sure.” Even Morgana was not so sure of her words, the picture in front of them was hard to paint as lies.

“I sent him to his death….” Arthur whimpered, “I killed him. I killed my husband.” The king sank to his knees, kneeling next to Morgana. The woman could barely hide the tears in her eyes at the sight. Everything she wanted to say, every reassurance died on her tongue. Whatever she said could very well be a lie and nothing more.

“We will make them pay, Arthur. We will make them pay for what they’ve done,” Morgana decided instead, pulling Arthur to his feet. “They won’t get away with this,” she stated sternly, much like their father when he had set his mind to something.

Less than an hour passed where the tension was so thick, one could slice through it with an unsharpened sword. All on board prepared for battle, despite the fact that the fires never stopped burning. Regardless of the fact that they might be too late to be of much good. The fighting had already begun long before they docked, a civil war where the same flag was flying on opposite sides.

“Go search for what is left, we’ll handle everything else,” Gwen informed Arthur when they stepped foot on the raging battlefield. She was dressed in chainmail armor just like everyone else, Camelot’s colors making her blend in with the searing fires. Her helmet was covering most of her face, giving her the appearance of a frightening soldier ready to take lives at a moment's notice. If Arthur was in a better mood, he would have been sorry for the folks who would come face to face with Gwen, the quick footed soldier instead of Gwen, the gentle, kind hearted high lady. At the moment he was on the verge of breaking and was ever so glad that Gwen was as cut throat as she was.

“Thank you,” Arthur told her from the bottom of his heart, “We should have listened to you from the start.”

“You followed your husband’s request, I can’t fault you for that.” She pulled Arthur in for a hug before sending him off. “Go find our king.”

Gwen didn’t have to tell Arthur twice, he was off before she finished speaking. The only thing is his mind was finding and holding Merlin. Nothing else mattered. Not the war thriving around him, swords clashing, arrows flying, Camelot’s red against the duality of Le Lubrique’s purples; nothing. The sorcerer was all that was worth living for and Arthur had a guess as to where Merlin would be.

The castle with Le Lubrique’s flag flapping against the blistering wind was as good as any place to start. Arthur climbed the hill that the palace stood on with lead in his stomach. It felt like every step he took he was merely walking into a trap. The castle should not still be in one piece, the battles around the structure should have made it no more than debris. However, it still stood on weak support.

Going against the nagging voice in the back of his head Arthur called out for his husband, “Merlin!” He walked closer to what would have been the courtyard. Around the perimeter were burning shrubbery that must have been a sight to behold at one point in time. Now there were nothing more than flares and the source of black smoke. The cobblestone center was stained with a drying red that Arthur did not want to face the source of. “Merlin!” Arthur sounded out in the courtyard.

“Arthur,” a hoarse voice groaned weakly. Arthur ran in the direction it came from, his sense of self preservation be damned. Merlin’s life could be on the line.

“Merlin, stay with me. Keep talking!”

“I-I’m over here,” Merlin hissed out helpfully, not informing Arthur where, “here” exactly was. Why did Arthur have to marry such a buffoon? Sure, no one could compare to Merlin, but at the very least he could have courted a smarter man.

“I’m coming, just stay where you are,” Arthur said hastily, rushing through the crumbling courtyard. “Don’t you dare die on me, I’ll kill you myself if you do!” he threatened, searching every nook and cranny for the warlock.

“That’s my line, you ass,” Merlin moaned in complaint, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Come up with your own catchphrases.”

Sometimes Arthur couldn’t believe his choice in a partner. Merlin was really making banter with him while possibly on the brink of death. He was definitely going to kill Merlin for this. “Make me, you bastard,” Arthur cursed, rounding a sharp corner that fell apart as he passed it. His breath was taken away for the second time that day when he saw Merlin on the ground.

They were in what must have been a parlor, the stained glass windows shattered on the ground as a number of the fine furniture burned to cinder. Arthur could imagine the room as something beautiful if he were to be invited over for tea. Now he just saw it as a smoking mess, something that he was glad was going up in flames. Though, without him or Merlin in it would be nice.

“There you are!” Arthur exclaimed, rushing over and kneeling on the floor next to Merlin’s frame. The sorcerer was half naked with sharp nail marks littered across his pale skin. Merlin’s neck was a raring red as if a hand had been wrapped around his throat which didn’t let up until he passed out from the lack of air. His form was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and tears, his rib cage stuck out in unpleasant angles. It looked like he hadn’t been fed in days. The sight made Arthur furious, but Le Lubrique’s court could wait. Arthur had to get Merlin to safety first.

“Took you long enough, you oaf,” Merlin hissed through his teeth, his lips chapped from dehydration. The corner of his mouth was bleeding as if he had been back handed across the face. Arthur reached out a hand to touch it, to make sure Merlin was real and not just some illusion made by a sick sorcerer. “Stop that, it already hurts to talk,” Merlin coughed, his eyes hazy.

“What happened?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask, shrugging off his cape to throw over Merlin’s bare chest. It didn’t offer much coverage but it was protection against the flying embers. As a bonus it covered the markings that made Arthur’s skin crawl.

“I arrived under the guise of an envoy, just as we had planned. Everything seemed to be going fine, but they found out I was a spy early on. It was like they could read my mind, and I don’t doubt that they have the knowledge just for the spell,” Merlin explained, pulling Arthur’s cape close, the soft fabric offering a sense of shelter. “But they didn’t seem to care that I was there under ulterior motives. They were only glad to have me, mind and body,” Merlin shivered at the thought. “Le Lubrique’s queen wanted me to father her children.”

Merlin paused to let the thought sink in. He watched Arthur for his reaction. Arthur’s face twisted in a disgusted sneer, baring his teeth at the implication. The king clenched his fists until his nails dug deep enough into his palm to drag blood. Arthur wanted to feel the pain, something to ground him farther so he didn’t march off to kill someone who might already be dead.

“Le Lubrique wanted dragons as slaves, no king would be dumb enough to go to war with a kingdom with dragons on their side; no matter its size,” Merlin went on, his eyes glowing yellow at the notion. “They needed me as a stud.”

Arthur was repulsed at the notion that Le Lubrique would even conceive of such a thing. He must have looked ready to vomit because Merlin quickly added, “Le Lubrique’s queen even tried to make herself appealing to me when I denied her advances.” Arthur could only imagine what the woman did. Sylvy’s antics immediately came to mind. “She magicked her hair blonde and made her eyes your shade of blue.”

Arthur couldn’t help but darkly chuckle at that. Of all the ways to make Merlin fall for someone, blonde hair and blue eyes weren’t it. “Did she really think looking like me would get you to bed her?”

“No,” Merlin began again with a pained yelp that he tried to hide. “What she said was what made me comply.”

“What did she say?” Arthur growled, his earlier fury seeping back into his bloodstream. “What did that harlot say?”

“She threatened your life, Arthur. Your honor, your dignity, and reign as king. Everything,” Merlin got teary eyed at the memory. “The way she took her pleasure from me was painful, but it was nothing compared to the thought of what she said she would have done to you.”

Arthur was shaking with rage, his whole body trembled with the urge to tear Le Lubrique’s queen apart, limb by limb by his own bare hands. His hand hovered over his sword subconsciously. He wanted to kill her, needed to destroy her for what she’s done. For the fear she incited into Merlin. Arthur was bloodthirsty; he hoped that Gwen was just as demanding of blood.

“I wanted to kill her.” Merlin’s quivering voice brought Arthur back to the present. “Let me kill her, Arthur,” Merlin begged his husband, his lip beginning to bleed.

“Of course,” Arthur wiped Merlin’s tears away with his thumb, his hand caressing Merlin’s cheek gently. “Anything you want, I’ll give it to you in a heartbeat.”

“Now, Arthur. I want to kill her now.” Merlin tried to sit up but the cry of pain had him falling right back to where he was. “She deserves to suffer.” His eyes lit up in a gold light, trying to magic his way upright but failed and fell down once more. The warlock’s body was in a worse state than he appeared, he shook in a cold sweat like an infection induced fever.

When Merlin began coughing fistfuls of blood at the strain Arthur was forced to act quickly. The king straddled Merlin’s legs, sitting down on his lap to keep Merlin on the ground. “Shhh, I’m here, Merlin. I’m safe, I’m alive,” Arthur barricaded Merlin with his arms. “I’ll bring you her head, I swear.”

“Let me do it, Arthur. I can kill her myself,” Merlin barked, another fit of coughs had him squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’ll bring her to you, alive. You can do anything you want with her court,” Arthur tried a different approach, tears forming in his eyes at the sight of Merlin in this state. “You can make her pay for what she’s done, make her feel the same pain. But please, Merlin,” Arthur begged, stroking Merlin’s face as tears fell on the man’s face. “Stay with me. Keep talking.”

Merlin opened his eyes at Arthur’s request, pain painting them a disorientating blue. “It hurts, Arthur. She did so, so many horrible things,” Merlin admitted in the burning parlor room. He reached out angry scarred arms to wrap around Arthur, pulling the king flush against his chest. “Everything aches, it feels like I’m being burned alive.” Merlin had Arthur in a death grip, there was barely enough room for either of them to breathe. It felt like home.

“They will pay, this I swear,” Arthur made an oath, kissing Merlin to make it true. “By the end of this day their bodies will be put on display for all to see.” He kissed down Merlin’s neck, burying Le Lubrique’s queen’s markings with his own. “Do you want her kingdom as well, Merlin? Say the word and it's yours.”

“I want you. I want her gone. I want her kingdom. I want it all,” Merlin’s mind was spinning with searing fever, screaming pain, and the constant pleasure of Arthur licking at his throat. He squeezed Arthur’s neck with his shaking arms. “Give me everything.”

In a burning parlor of a dying country with a queen and court that abandoned it, the first king of Camelot made a vow to the second king; an apology and a promise. Everything the licking fire was eating, everything destroyed by its own queen; the country, and the sea that surrounded it. The never ending farmlands, the people that survived, and the bones that would be buried by ash of its own making. The entire kingdom; dead, dying, or thriving. All of it would be Merlin’s.

All of it is Merlin’s.

“My king shall have everything.”

[justplainwhump]

Bodyguard

Context: Dany, daughter of a crime lord, has been betrayed by her bodyguard some weeks ago, taken captive, and given to the Casino to humiliate her father. After some time at the home of mean man Ridley Lordin, she's returned to the Casino - and she won't like it.

[Dany]

Content / warnings: Lady whump, noncon (on the explicit side before fade-to-black), references to human trafficking, betrayal, referenced noncon video distribution

Based on an RP I'm doing with @what-a-whump , and on the general Casino AU sandbox with @whumping-newbie . Referenced Ridley Lordin belongs to @what-a-whump and I adore him.

Bordering explicit content and heavy on the noncon themes, so proceed with caution. And as an 18+ blog, let me reiterate - if you’re a minor, please do not interact with this post in any way.

Otherwise - hope you enjoy!

*

"Daddy's going to be on a business trip for a little while, but he sure won't want his little girl to be bored without him."

These were the last words I've heard Lordin say, while I was already struggling to stand, my hand losing my grip of the table. Then, the only thing I remember were his eyes on me, amused and curious, until they became one with the swirling darkness as well.

Now I'm back. Back at the place where he acquired me, at that hellish casino. At least that's what I think where I am, from the few glances I could spare on my surroundings, before someone put a blindfold on me and tied my hands over my head.

Still, the voice I'm hearing matches crazy cane lady.

"She's in good enough shape. Had the physician check her while she was out of it. We can put the news out that she's back here. Work off that waiting list."

A hand pats my cheek. I flinch away and hiss at her.

She simply chuckles. "You're in quite high demand. Serve our clients as good as you serve your master, and I can probably close this place and take a nice holiday for the winter."

"I won't serve anyone", I press through clenched teeth.

"I've heard differently, baby girl." She all but whispers the last part. Like sharing a secret. I feel cold dread rising in me. She shouldn't know that. Lordin wouldn't talk about this to her. It was between him and me. Wasn't it?

"She's all yours for the night", cane lady says to someone. "Drinks are on the house tonight. Thank you for getting her for us. Do you want her set up differently?"

"No", a man mumbles. His voice is low, purposefully indistinguishable, but still it feels like I know him. "It's perfect."

"Here's the key to her cuffs. All sorts of... instruments are in the cabinet by the wall, and an attendant will be at hand should you need any help with her."

"Oh, I know my way around her", he replies.

Fuck.

I know who he is.

I pull at the restraints, suddenly desperate.

"No", I cry. "No no no, Frankie, you can't do this."

Steps retreat and a door closes, before other, heavier steps close in.

His hand cups my cheek, and as he leans in, I can smell his familar scent, smoke and cologne. "Shhh", he whispers into my ear. "It's not like you haven't let me fuck you before, babe."

He kisses the side of my neck, carefully, gently, almost lovingly. Almost like before.

"You've betrayed me", I say. "You've fucking betrayed me. Lied to me, sold me out."

"You've made me rich", he replies, as he lets his hands run down my sides, barely covered by some silken dress. "This place pays me better than your dad ever did. And-" He grabs my hips and pulls me flush against him, chuckling at my pained little gasp. "I still get to have my fun with you, just in all new ways."

I feel him hard against me. I'm dizzy.

"Please, Frankie, don't to this", I whisper. "I trusted you. We... we were friends."

"We weren't. You were business, Miss Hammond, always, then and now. Business with a side of naughty, maybe. And... I like the naughty part better when you can't boss me around."

I feel his teeth grazing my neck next to the collar, a split second warning, before he bites me, hard. I scream, more shock than pain, and he laughs.

"That collar makes you pretty hot, babe", he purrs. "But maybe I just feel different about you since I watched you wear it on this video going round. Lovely detail, really."

I feel all blood drain from my face. "Vi... Video?"

"Mmmhh", he breathes into my hair. "Daddy's girl home alone. Holy shit, that... that was sexy. Couldn't stop watching. Didn't know you'd do that sort of shit. Lordin really has a way with you, hm?"

My knees threaten to give in under me, but Frankie is holding me tight, merciless. "You do have a little daddy complex though, don't you? Lordin could just draw on what's already there."

"Who..." I ask tonelessly. "Who... who has seen this?"

"Everyone", he breathes, as he one of his hands wanders under my dress and begins circling my clit through the lace panties. "You're so hot, babe, you have no idea."

Tears are streaming down my face.

"Shhh." Gently, he brushes my underwear aside and runs his finger along my pussy.

"You always told me you liked it when I did this for you."

He kisses my cheek, disregarding the tears. "And I swear you're getting wet for me already."

"I don't want this", I whisper. "Please, Frankie, help me."

"I want this", he says.

I whimper when he slides his fingers into me.

"Will you beg for me, babe? Like for him?"

"I..." I shake my head. "I beg you to stop, please"

"Not the same", he replies. Still, he withdraws his fingers and I stagger to stay standing.

My arms are pulled even higher and with a small click, my cuffs are free from where they were fixed to the ceiling. Instead of letting go, Frankie slips my tied hands over his head, pulling me into a fake embrace. I still can't see him, but I feel him, everywhere, his lips on mine now, familar and cruel, as he forces me into a deep kiss.

He pushes me backward, step by step, until my shoulder blades hit the wall.

I feel his hands fiddling with his pants, hear a a small rustle as they slide down, and then his cock presses against me. With one hand, he grabs my thigh and pulls my leg around him.

"This is going to be rough", he mumbles. "If you're not gonna beg, then well, instead..." His other hand is in my hair, yanks back my head brutally. "... scream for me"

He forces himself into me, slams me into the wall, and I do.

[-> aftermath]

[pretty-face-breaker]

Maybe Not Now

During Pavel’s daily torment of him, Emir sees something in him that he hadn’t seen before.

c.w. military whump, sadistic whumper, forced exercise as punishment, insults, degrading language, captivity, alluding to death as an alternative to torture

 —

“That’s all for now, soldaty. Back to your dorms and make it neat,” General Levkin called. 

With a raise of his palm, collective relief could be heard above the fading grunts. Men rose from the field and dusted their palms on their trousers, snatching up their rifles. Twenty of them clicked sharply as they swung over various shoulders. Some grabbed a drink of water they had been meaning to get for hours as clouds swept over the barren training grounds. 

The drills of the day were over. 

As the soldiers filed after one another, murmuring too fast and foreign to be kept up with, Emir followed behind with a dry throat. His arms ached. He could hardly remember making that many mistakes in his basic training or what were supposedly called mistakes by Stanislav Levkin’s eye. He always seemed to catch him doing something wrong. Inaccurate aim. Sloppy position. Poor posture. 

But he had taken the admonitions, the hits and laps, nodded obediently, straightened his back or concentrated harder on his aim. He didn’t feel like fighting the corrections in front of fifty others and with the amount of sleep hardly managed each night, he didn’t doubt some were his fault. That, and for other reasons. Emir winced as a now clear head focussed on the burning in his bicep. 

The place Pavel had rubbed the salt earlier that week. 

Maybe yes, sir-ing his way through the drills had been also to spare his throat from overexerting itself more than he had torn in, wailing wordlessly among laughter and pleading in broken Russian to a man who likely hadn’t heard the word in his life. Emir grimaced and, feeling a bump of a body behind him, sped up to climb the stairs. Until he felt a hand pulling him aside. 

“Not so fast. Hey, you.” Pavel grinned as he pulled him from formation and back down the steps.

Emir froze and his hand shot to his collar, trying to keep his balance. “Podozhdite—” But Pavel wasn’t one to wait and pulled him fiercely until he tripped on the rocks, barely catching himself on the stone railing. Humiliated, he straightened up glaring. Pavel’s leer was ever present with that same colour of resentment, his eyes cold and devising. 

The taller man chuckled. “Did you even complete your recruit training? With how today went, I thought Stas was going to pin you to that target.”

Emir swallowed, trying not to dignify that with a response. 

Pavel’s face darkened in silence. “Follow me then get on the fucking ground. I’m not done with you.” 

His heart slammed in his throat as he followed without a word, feeling his fingertips grow cold as the group’s noises faded. With each moment, he pushed his feet further to the edges of the terrain where voices ended and the forest began and each step felt harder to take, the closer those trees got. He sucked in a quiet breath when Pavel stopped. 

“Drop. Feet together.” 

Emir obeyed, falling tense to the pushup form, and dug his nails into the earth for a brief moment, just to feel the cool of the grass, to ground himself. Once, he let his lungs expand with a breath and plunged. Pavel didn’t have to say a word for him to begin and he figured he could save him the trouble. Save it for himself too so he wouldn’t have to pay for it later again. 

He bent his elbows, breathing evenly and keeping them tracking alongside his body, until his chest dipped just below the angle of each elbow, then pushed back up, expelling the air. Slow, controlled so his throat wouldn’t burn like it had last time. His eyes were fixed on the trees across from him, the endless stretch of wood and darkness that he watched from his bed sometimes. 

It reminded him of the trip he had taken years ago, camping with his cousins after having convinced his mother that he would bring a gun and that everything would go well. Even now, he remembered the distaste in her head shake and the veiled worry in her tone as she had thrown up a hand in defeat. 

Fine, abni, but if you get mauled by a bear, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

A smile graced his mouth. It was like he was hardly there anymore. Though a few reps more and he felt a shift in breathing as Pavel sunk down onto the log next to him. 

“Feel like this has gotten easier for you. A hundred and fifty reps, nothing, eh?” He chuckled and patted him on the shoulder with enough force that Emir briefly swayed. “Fast learner. You don’t piss me off as much.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me?” Emir asked coolly. His jaw tightened a bit, hearing the huff. As if the question was a challenge. 

“Because you’re fun to hurt. You make fun noises, give me—all of us—a good time.” 

Pavel’s eye caught a nearby stone and he tapped on his knee thoughtfully as Emir plunged into another graceful pushup. The leer he wore quickly grew crooked and he revelled in the tiny spark of fear that stuttered Emir’s breathing. Hearing it was always wonderful because it meant the little shit was listening to him and on his toes more often than he had been. 

“I noticed your back was all fucked up,” Pavel admitted, reaching for the rock which could have easily been five pounds, “when we changed.” 

Emir’s eyes stayed frozen on the hollow of a nearby tree. His chest was beginning to burn with the onset of faint panic but he was surprised as it wasn’t his fiftieth repetition yet where the burning usually started. “Is that new?” 

The pressure of the rock came fully and at once into the small of his back and he jerked and tightened into a plank. He couldn’t move for a few seconds, realizing Pavel’s intention. 

“You haven’t finished. Keep going or the next one goes into your head.” 

Admittedly, the next few repetitions of the pushup were only slightly less comfortable, just a tinge less familiar with the weight on his spine and he felt his elbows wobble only the slightest amount. Still, Emir persisted. He had gone no more than ten before the next rock, larger this time, sat in front of the first. Hearing Pavel’s snicker, a silent rage caved in his chest. 

“You just had to fall into my hands, huh?” he laughed, patting the ground for another. “Unlucky bastard.” 

Emir was beginning to feel the onset of exhaustion seeping into an already worn body. He knew if he collapsed, Pavel would have something to say about it, presumably with his shoe. He winced and exhaled on the wrong motion, had to pause for a moment and focus his breathing before the next plunge and all while ignoring the wry laughter of the man next to him. 

“At least I’m not dead,” he muttered. 

Pavel stirred before he was about to lay the third rock on the next few ridges of his spine. At first, he scoffed off the response but didn’t resume the motion. He stayed silent for a few moments, letting Emir dip into the next less-than-graceful pushup and watched a bead of sweat roll down his dark temple. Something akin to cynical admiration passed across his eyes.

“You’d rather be alive, here?”  

This time, Emir stopped too. He kept his eyes forward, trained as usual, but too long had passed for it to feel like Pavel’s routine. His gaze gradually flickered over to the green eyes and tan skin beside him that so typically fixed him like prey, now staring at him in annoyed curiosity. “Yeah,” he admitted. 

The trees rustled softly in the background, dampening the mechanics from the camp as if they were unpleasant, fading memories. 

“You’re an idiot.” Pavel let the stone go and smirked to himself at the wince but it was less self-satisfied. “For getting caught and for thinking this is going to be better.”

“My pilot got shot and we crashed directly in front of you,” Emir grumbled, feeling a pulling need to defend his honour and that of his late pilot’s. “Didn’t get caught.” He glanced at Pavel warily and breathed out, seeing no brimming violence under his expression. “Besides, I-I have a family at home to think about.” 

The green eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re not going home.” 

He swallowed, not quite yielding. “Maybe not now.” 

“Maybe not ever.” 

Emir waited in silence for a minute more, saying little besides the soft, stuttering breaths that whistled in unison with the pines, gull calls, and the dirt twisting under Pavel’s shoe. He sensed it was an exercise to relieve boredom with how often he did it. He didn’t want to think about what Pavel had just said.

He thought about it too often, already. 

Slowly, he exhaled and pushed down again under the weight of three rocks, elbows bending alongside his body, and inhaled like it would be his last breath on his—shit, he had lost count. He mechanically continued, hoping that at a certain point, Pavel would stop him and let him go when he had fulfilled the day’s quota of entertainment but then, froze completely upon realizing that it had always been his responsibility to count. 

Pavel noticed his uncertainness. “What? You lost count or something?” 

Emir did nothing for a minute before lapsing into silent despair and nodding. What was the worst he could do, really? Kick him in the ribs? Big fucking whoop. He waited for the blow anyways, feeling that it would be a welcome relief to the incessant burning in his arms that threatened to have his entire body give out at that moment and crash to the ground onto that asshole’s boot. 

But in the meantime, Pavel had been quiet and uncharacteristically thoughtful. 

“Get up,” he ordered. “That’s enough.” He pushed himself up from the log and stretched to the clouds, wincing himself at the unwise angle he had been slouching in since Emir had begun the exercise. “Go back to your dorm and don’t let me see you again today.” 

Too stunned to move, Emir fixed him with a fearful look until he realized it was a serious order. He could have let himself fall to the ground and really, it was tempting. To lay there and let the exhaustion seep into the dirt but Pavel’s patience already seemed stick-thin and he didn’t want to push today’s generosity. He rolled to let the rocks fall off and bolted to standing, starting his journey back to the camp. When he turned for Pavel’s approval, the man wasn’t moving. 

His eyebrows pricked up. “Maybe not now,” he muttered. “Idiot.”  

Tagging: @straight-to-the-pain @heathenville

 Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!

[aceofwhump]

Guys

The Weeping Monk.

The Weeping Monk has become my new obsession. I love him. I knew I would because seeing all the gifs of him in tumblr is why I watched in the first place I didn't not expect for him to capture my interest so much. It's not the strongest hyperfixation I've ever had but it is one nonetheless and I'm thrilled. Welcome the list of "Ace's Favorite Whumpees"!!

SPOILERS ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously I got ramble and let some spoilers loose so if you want to watch it still and don't want spoilers just keep scrolling

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So not only is Daniel Sharman fucking gorgeous but Daniel Sharman looking like this?

With the eyes and the hood and the darkness and the scruff. Oh hell yeah! He's like some omen of death with that cloak. I love it.

So why do I like the Weeping Monk so much?

Well first of all I LOVE A GOOD REDEMPTION STORY!!!!! Like so much! I blame Zuko for that. But if you give me a bad dude who's done some bad shit but also has one hell of a traumatic past then put him on a path of redemption and healing? I’M SOLD! And at the end of the season, The Weeping Monk has been set on his redemption beginnings and I will die if Netflix doesn't give us a season 2 so I can see this boy walk his new path towards redemption and healing. I crave it.

But anyway. This man right here. The emotional angst and whump he exudes is so lovely.

Towards the end of the season we find out that he's Fey and I fucking lost my shit. This boy is a Fey who was raised by the people who hate Fey. His people were killed and he was taken as a child by the same people who murdered them. He was then brainwashed to believe he was demon born and evil and a sinner purely for existing and was taught to punish himself for it (he whips himself in a form of self flagellation!) and I'm sure he was punished for all sorts of things growing up by his "Father". The amount of self hate and self doubt he must feel breaks my heart. He knows he's Fey! He remembers his real name (also that reveal sent me to another plane of existence) so he must have some memories of his family and his people. But he's spent his whole life being used as a weapon against his own people and brainwashed into thinking he was saving them because fey are inherently damned. And that's all he is to the Red Paladins. A weapon. But he sees them as his people, his family because that's all he knows!

This dude is so broken and brainwashed and lost it just breaks my heart.

LOOK AT HIM!! Look at this lost and broken boy!! He just needs some love and affection dammit!! I mean he flat out asks "Do you love me Father?" AHHH!!

And oh my god this conversation between him and Gawain?!

Allow me to share the whole conversation because I need to talk about it.

Gawain: Don’t be afraid Ash Man. I don’t bite. It’s those eyes. The mark of the Ash Fold. There haven’t been any in these lands for centuries. How did you find your way here? Have you just come to watch me die?

The Weeping Monk: Why didn’t you tell them? Before...you could have told them. But you didn’t. Why?

G: Because all Fey are brothers. Even the lost ones

WM: This suffering, it will cleanse you.

G: You parrot these words, but you know it’s all lies. I can feel it in you, my brother.

WM: You are not my brother.

G: They have turned your mind so far inside out...that you don’t know the difference between kindness...and hate. Who did this to you?

WM: We are saving souls. Your soul.

G: Tell that to the little ones that you burn.

WM: I don’t harm the children

G: You burn their homes, you slay their mothers and their fathers, and you watch your Red Brothers run them down on horses. And you see it all through those weeping eyes. That makes you guilty. Brother! You can fight. I’ve never seen anything like it. You could be our greatest warrior. Your people need you.

WM: You are not my people.

G: Then tell them. If this is where you belong, tell them what you are.

WM: I’ll pray for you.

G: And I you.

First of all this conversation is the reason I now ship these two. Just saying. Gawain saw that he was kin, that he was lost, that he was broken and reached out to try and help him even though he is the reason he is being tortured. I can’t with these two! But also, the WM felt guilty about turning him in and worried about his own fate but you can tell that Gawain’s words sink in and set something inside of him and it’s because of Gawain that WM is now on this path of his. AND Gawain! I fully expected him to hate this man after everything hes done but he saw a lost and broken fey brother and tried to help him and I just...Gawain is so good you guys! This whole exchange is just *chefs kiss*. Cause after this the WM saves Squirrel.

Which leads me to Squirrel and the Weeping Monk. The other reason I desperately need season 2 is because I can't wait to see this unexpected pairing. I mean come on, big bag tough guy with trauma becomes unexpectedly joined with a young child? Best trope ever. Plus he got his ass kicked pretty bad and I need season 2 start off with that so I can see Squirrel take care of this injured man. Anyway, these two are going to have a great adventure getting back to the Fey and I NEED TO SEE IT!!! I want to see Squirrel and Lancelot bond and Squirrel defend him against Fey who hate him and for Lancelot to reluctantly become attached and defensive of this Fey boy and AHHHHHH!!

Oh and side note: One of my favorite tropes occurred. Defeated in battle, manhandled to their knees and hood pulled off revealing their bruised and bloody face. God yes please.

Time for some headcanons:

Okay he's totally touch starved am I right? This boy hasn't known a kind touch in his whole life. Pain is all he's known. The Paladins only touch to punish him or wield him. And he thinks he deserves it. He deserves the pain. The punishment. But kindness? A soft touch? Someone tending his injuries gently? He doesnt know what to do it that. He ends up stiffening or flinching away from the blinds hands of the fey, confused at first but slowly he starts to crave that kind touch.

Squirrel is always hugging him. Like whenever he sees him. And WM doesnt know what the fuck to do with that. You think he ever for hugged? I DOUBT IT! So hes all stiff and awkward and kind of bears it but after a while he starts hugging back kind of awkwardly.

Oh and speaking of tending his injuries I can almost guarantee that he has either had to tend to his own injuries in the past or he didn't do anything for them at all. But he's in a Fey camp now and the Fey help each other so when he and squirrel first show up at the camp and a he's taken to a healer and at first he balks and is like "I'm fine" but people like Pym and Squirrel and Gawain (YES GAWAIN! I have thoughts hang on) are like clearly you're not so just sit down before fall down again and let Pym heal you! AND then we get a scene of them all seeing the scars and fresh lashes and being horrified

Okay Gawain. He's not dead and he and Lancelot become best bros (or lovers cause I kind of ship them so much. Forget Nimulot. It's Gawain and Lancelot all the way) and Gawain protects him from the Fey who want to kill him after Squirrel and Lancelot arrive at the makeshift Fey camp and he's taken prisoner. Gawain watches him and see his humanity and goodness and self hate and trauma and Lancelot has someone who sees him as a "brother" as someone lost but not irredeemable and they fall in love okay bye

His powers as one of the Ash Folk. We know he can track. But from what we saw what if he's also got some camouflage or healing abilities hes never explored. NEVER EXPLORED BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT A MANIFESTATION OF HIS INNER DEMON!!!

Also, I saw these two onset pics and now I'm ready for this to be s2 WM and Squirrel.

Okay rant over. Sorry. Bye now ✌

[blursed-ninjago-ideas]

Whumptober 5

So I decided to revisit an older idea I had and do it better. I think I went too far, but a little drama never hurt anyone.

Prompt: Betrayal Misunderstanding

Randomly Selected Whumpee: Kai

--

Lloyd didn’t know what it was that struck him about the masked man when they first met. Something about the way his eyes burned with some emotion Lloyd couldn’t quite read. His snide comments set Lloyd off and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before from countless enemies, but something about the way the masked man said it made something at the top of Lloyd’s spine seize up.

The others seemed to feel it to some degree, but only Nya felt it like he did.

Those eyes burned in Lloyd’s nightmares so bright they were all he remembered when he woke up. He wasn’t particularly afraid of the masked man, but something about him flooded Lloyd with a sharp dread.

He seemed interested in Chen’s goals in the looses possible sense. He flat out didn’t care. He approached the work like it was an office job he had no love for. Zane was theorizing that Chen was blackmailing or forcing him somehow, and that made some sense. But Lloyd felt like there was something deeper. It didn’t explain why his eyes looked like that. Why they burned like that.

Despite how intense his eyes were when they looked at them, the masked man mostly avoided them. It relieved and angered Lloyd. Whenever they did face off, Lloyd choked on feelings he couldn’t name. He wanted answers, but he feared them. Some instinct told him he was better off not knowing.

Better off or not, Lloyd couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep dreaming of burning burning eyes and waking up with tears on his face, remembering nothing but feeling like his heart had been scrapped hollow.

So he decided to confront the masked man. Alone in an abandoned building, far from both their allies and completely alone with one another, they stared at each other silently.

“I have a few questions for you.” Lloyd said.

The masked man’s eyes shifted in curiosity. But they still burned.

“Ask away then, Green Ninja.” he said. First Master, his voice burned too.

There was a long silence. Lloyd wanted answers, but he didn’t actually have any questions to ask.

“Why do you work for Chen?” Lloyd settled on asking.

The masked man shrugged.

“I don’t really have a reason.” he said causally.

There was no burning. There was no intensity. His voice was light and plain. He didn’t care about Chen. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t angry. He was completely indifferent to it.

“Let me ask you a question.” the masked man said.

His tone was almost playful as he turned things around on Lloyd Why did that burn worse? Why did that hurt more? But his eyes were smoldering again.

Lloyd made a squeak to respond, not able to force anything more dignified.

“Why do you hate Chen?” he asked “And don’t tell me it’s because he’s evil or whatever. I’m not interested in the hero speech. I want to know what he did to you.”

Lloyd took a step back. There was so much hiding behind what was so carefully phrased to seem causal. Just behind those words was a burning burning burning that Lloyd wanted to run away from. He didn’t know what it meant and he was almost ready to decide he’d rather not know.

But Lloyd had come this far. He was so close to an answer. He couldn’t, wouldn’t back out now.

So he met the challenge. He straightened his back and answered honestly.

“Chen took someone from me.” Lloyd said. “Someone important.”

The man’s stare cracked and Lloyd almost heard it. Those words seemed to slash through some kind of barrier that stood between them. Lloyd was no longer locked out, but he had lost his shield from that horrible burning.

“Who?” he asked.

It was such a simple word, but the weight behind it was agony. This was deeper than Lloyd thought. He was standing on the tip of a chasm and quickly losing his ability to turn back.

Continuing to throw away his chances to back out, Lloyd answered honestly again.

“My best friend.” Lloyd said, swallowing the tears that tried to attach themselves to the words, to the name “Kai.”

The masked man reacted, but Lloyd couldn’t read it.

“Guess he wasn’t much of a friend, huh?” the masked man said. So much anger. So much burning.

It was Lloyd’s turn to burn.

“Kai was the best!” Lloyd yelled. “He was my brother!”

“Then why didn’t you rescue him?” the man asked.

Why were his words so heavy? Why did his eyes burn with so much judgment? Why did it bother Lloyd so much?

“Because….” Lloyd was fighting back his tears with all his willpower “Because Chen turned him against us. He be-”

Lloyd choked on the word.

“He betrayed us.”

Saying it was too hard. Lloyd sobbed and covered his mouth.

“Did he?”

Lloyd couldn’t breath through the rage and offense. Before Lloyd could start to curse, the masked man began speaking again.

“Because I don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen him in Chen’s ranks. If he truly betrayed you, don’t you think he’d still be working for Chen? Did you ever figure out why he wasn’t?”

“I….” Lloyd stammered.

“Did you care?” the man asked his voice burning hotter than it had ever before.

His words were fire; red, hot, and scorching. They burned into Lloyd, branding his soul.

Before Lloyd could adjust to that new searing pain, the masked man spoke again.

“You know, I think I remember this boy. Brown hair, right? Kind of spiky?”

Lloyd could only nod.

“Yeah, I saw him in Chen’s dungeons. He had been there awhile. I almost felt bad for him. He used to say his friends would come rescue him, but eventually I think he gave up hope.”

Lloyd crumbled to the ground, wishing he had left it alone. Wishing he’d left it as nightmares he couldn’t quite remember. Anything was better than hearing this.

“He died a little after that.” the man continued, ignoring the broken noise Lloyd made as his world washed with grief. “Cold, hungry, and begging for his family. I can only assume he meant you. I used to wonder what sort of people could inspire so much hope and loyalty in him. What a disappointment you turned out to be.”

Lloyd’s grief started to burn in anger. What did this stranger know? How dare he taunt Lloyd with his brother’s death.

“Shut up!” Lloyd yelled, slashing his sword toward the man.

Disappointingly, he dodged.

“What? Do you care now!? Now that he’s dead you actually feel something!?” he yelled, bringing his own sword out and clashing against Lloyd.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lloyd yelled.

“I think I do better than anyone.” the man said with his eyes burning so dark and hot.

Lloyd kept slashing at him, taking out all his fury and regret.

“HE WAS MY BROTHER! HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND! LOSING HIM DESTROYED ME!” Lloyd yelled, tears blurring his vision almost as much as his rage.

It was true. After they got away from Chen, a part of Lloyd died. Kai’s betrayal killed him.

He kept even the other ninja at arms length, too afraid of getting hurt, of ruining them. Lloyd barely let his father in anymore, too convinced he was unlovable. Nya had tried, oh she had tired, but Lloyd couldn’t stand the guilt he felt for ruining her big brother. Whatever happened to Kai was Lloyd's fault and he knew it.

Clearly the masked man knew too, that was why his eyes burned so much when he looked at Lloyd.

Clashing their swords against each other, it was the closest Lloyd had ever gotten to the man. He was so close to that burning gaze, he could almost feel the heat. The anger, the judgment, the concern.

Wait, that wasn’t right. Why, was it so warm? Standing so close, with all the walls torn down, Lloyd finally saw how much kindness there was hidden in there. It was hidden well, but behind all the burning was something soft. Something familiar something….

“KAI!?” Lloyd yelled.

Those eyes! How had Lloyd not noticed! He knew them! That was why they haunted him so much. That was why the masked man had set Lloyd on edge.

The masked man, Kai, launched himself backwards, as if burned by the word, by the name.

He was right.

“It’s you! It’s really you!” Lloyd sobbed, he wasn’t bothering to fight with his tears.

“I told you your brother died.” Kai spat.

Lloyd shook his head. He wasn’t buying it. He knew those eyes! He knew his big brother.

“It’s you. It’s you, Kai. You’re alive!”

Lloyd knew those eyes, but he didn’t know that burning in them. The Kai of his memory had eyes that flickered with kindness, like a candle meant to sooth a scared child in the dark. This Kai was nothing so soft.

Kai finally ripped his mask off. The face Lloyd knew, the one he ran to after nightmares, the one he’d longed to see after so long, was twisted and sharp. A distortion of the brother Lloyd had lost.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t me. I told you your brother was dead.” he snapped.

“I don’t understand.” Lloyd said.

He just wanted to run into Kai’s arms. He wanted his big brother he had spent to so long missing.

“I meant what I said. I spent so long in Chen’s dungeons waiting for you. I broke, and I died. I’m nothing more than a ghost, Lloyd.”

It sounded so hollow. So broken. Like he really was speaking with the voice of a dead man.

“Please, Kai. We can fix this! Please!” Lloyd begged.

His brother was there! He was right there! But he was so far away, hidden inside a stranger.

“You can’t fix this, Lloyd.” he said, shaking his head.

Lloyd couldn’t reach him, no matter how desperate he was. His big brother was back from the dead, but he’d come back wrong.

“PLEASE!” Lloyd begged.

Kai just shook his head again.

“There’s nothing left to say Lloyd.”

Kai turned to leave. Lloyd reached out to stop him, to grab him and hug him, to bring him home, but his grip was too weak and he was too slow.

Lloyd was left on the floor, devastated, wailing, burning.

--

Ahahahaha! Maybe I technically whumped Lloyd a bit more here, but A, it takes two to have a betrayal, and B, I will be making up for this on Day 8. (I’m super excited for that one.)

Here’s the link to the prototype of this story on Kat’s personal blog.

This is very inspired by both the Princess Bride scene and the song “I Know Those Eyes/This Man Is Dead” from The Count of Monte Cristo (the musical)

Anyway, I adore parts of this, but also feel like I overdid it in certain places. No brakes today I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-Ivy

[peachy-panic]

Strangers

Part of Fifty-Eight Days. The timeline in this is split between directly before & after the mission-gone-wrong. This is, I think, the closest to a drabble-style chapter that I’ve managed to write, but it’s also like... not short lol. Idk. 

Not much direct whump to be spoken of here, but certainly some emotional angst. 

Grayson’s eyes scanned over the specks of neon-yellow scattered throughout gate C28, doing a mental headcount for the fourth time in the last hour. The t-shirts the church had designed for the trip were a little more than tacky, but he understood now the appeal of the color. At a glance, he could count off the members of his team in the crowded space; two seventeen-year-olds hunched over an ipad, a high school senior fast asleep across three seats, a young couple that Grayson was definitely going to need to have a talk with about sharing that blanket. 

It wasn’t until he heard a soft chuckle from his co-leader beside him that he realized his efforts were not as discreet as he thought. “I’m gonna need you to relax, Gray,” Zara said. “We haven’t lost anyone yet, I promise.”

“A trend I’m not looking to change anytime soon,” he replied, counting off three college students standing in line for coffee, and a fourth sitting on the floor near the only available outlet. “And certainly not before we’ve left American soil.”

“There’s only so far they can wander off,” she said, gesturing around. “And even then, we have plenty of time to find them, since someone—not naming names—insisted we show up at the airport three-and-a-half hours before we board.”

“International travel is a big deal,” he argued, scanning for the last few on his mental checklist. “You have to allow extra time for customs and… like, I don’t know, passport stuff. Whatever.”

“Mmm. Yeah, passport stuff. For sure.”

Grayson huffed an unamused laugh, still searching for the last yellow shirt. “Weren’t you nervous your first year as group leader?”

“Co-leader,” she corrected.

“Whatever. I think I have a healthy fear of losing track of one the actual human lives that are in our care for the foreseeable future.”

“Super healthy. Have you counted me yet?” she asked, setting her bag on the ground beside her seat. “Because I’m going to go grab a bagel or something. You want anything?”

“No, thank you,” he said, but he was distracted because, where was number twelve? He counted number ten beside the window, taking pictures of the tarmac, and eleven was sitting on the ground playing peek-a-boo with someone’s toddler, but twelve…

“Hey, have you seen Elijah?”

“Who?” Zara said distractedly, fishing for something in her purse.

“Porter?” Grayson blinked at her. She blinked back. “Okay. I’ll pretend it’s not concerning that you don’t know a member of our team less than an hour before we head into another continent,” he said. “We had twelve a little bit ago and now we’re down to eleven. Elijah is missing.”

“‘Missing’ is not the word we are going with,” she said, throwing her cross-body bag over her shoulder. “It’s entirely possible that he went to the bathroom. Or, you know, to get food or coffee. Any number of things that you should probably do if you could manage to chill out for a minute.”

He ignored her, grabbing his own bag and standing. “I’m going to look for him.”

“Dude.” She threw her hands up. “You’re supposed to be watching my stuff.”

“I’ll be right back,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Your bagel’s on me, okay?”

“Fine,” she called after him. “But if he is actually in the bathroom, you owe me coffee, too.”

***

He wasn’t in the bathroom.

In fact, Grayson had to walk fourteen gates into an entirely different terminal before he spotted him, sitting alone in an empty waiting area in his bright-yellow shirt, one knee pulled up into the seat with him. He had earbuds in—the ones that came free with a new iPhone—and when Grayson let his eyes follow the trail of the wire that draped down his front and into the pocket of his black jeans, they caught on a sliver of bare skin above his waistband. He blinked hard, tearing them away.

Elijah didn’t seem to notice his presence as he approached, but as Grayson got closer he saw that he was drawing. There was a sketch pad thrown open over his knee, his fingers in a white-knuckle grip around the mechanical pencil that flew effortlessly across the page. His head nodded along to a quick beat of which Grayson could only hear the faintest buzzing through the headphones. It was hard to ignore the way a long tendril of black hair bounced rhythmically against his cheekbone with the movement.

Grayson stopped directly in front of him, clearing his throat.

“Shit.” Elijah jolted, nearly dropping his pencil and pad as he scrambled to yank his headphones out. “Shoot, I mean. Sorry.” He quickly closed the cover of his sketchbook, then looked up at Grayson, brushing the fallen hair out of his eyes. “Am I late? I swear, I was keeping an eye on the time—”

“No,” Grayson said, checking his watch even though he knew exactly what time it was. “You’re not late, I just… um? What are you doing over here?”

“Oh.” Elijah brought his foot down from the seat, then, with the faintest tint of pink glowing in his cheeks, shifted to cross one leg over the other. “It was getting sort of loud over where we were. I just… I don’t like all the noise.”

Grayson gestured to the headphones that had fallen into his lap. “Except that noise, right?” Immediate regret. He was pretty sure he outwardly winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Awesome, Gray, what a very young and cool thing to say. “Sorry,” he added immediately, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That was lame. I didn’t mean to sound like your dad.”

“I wouldn’t know what that sounds like,” Elijah said.

His face fell. “Oh.” Now it was his turn to go pink. He took his hands out of his pockets, then put them back, suddenly unsure of what to do with this lumbering thing called his body. “Uh…”

A small smile curved up to one side of Elijah’s mouth, crinkling his skin into an impossible dimple. “Sorry. I was kidding. Well… not kidding, I guess, but… you’re fine.”

“Oh,” he said again, sounding like a broken record if broken records also produced strained imitations of a nervous laughter, which was apparently something he did now. “Okay.”

“So, I should come back to the gate?” Elijah was already starting to load up his small backpack.

“Actually…” Grayson looked at his watch again. “You probably have some time if you would rather just… hang out here for a bit.” He shrugged with the air of someone who hadn’t just been taking meticulous roll call on a quarter-hourly basis. “I get not wanting to be around the noise.”

Elijah paused, looking up at him from under that glorious swoop of hair again. Grayson felt the ground shift beneath him, just a little, which was definitely just because he hadn’t eaten yet. Probably. Maybe he should get that bagel after all. “You sure?” Elijah asked. “I don’t want to be, like, a problem.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Grayson waved him off. “I’m just being paranoid, I think. It’s my first time doing this.”

“The mission?” Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, no. I’ve been going for years,” he said, a little proudly. “This is my first time leading, though.”

“Well… you managed to track me down,” Elijah said with a shrug. “So it seems like you’re doing good so far.”

“Hah. Thanks.” Grayson rubbed the back of his neck, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge, let alone give name to, the strange edge of nervous energy that existed when he spoke to this boy. “Okay. Uh. Have fun, then. Sorry for interrupting. Just… maybe try to be back at the gate in the next half-hour?” Grayson said. “You don’t want to get stuck with a crappy seat on the plane.”

Before he could turn and head back, Elijah stiffened. “Wait, what?” he asked, paling.

Grayson frowned. “This airline doesn’t do assigned seats. It’s sort of a first-come, first-serve thing when you board. Sorry, maybe I should have explained that better in the travel memo?”

Something in Elijah seemed to deflate slightly as he sat back against his seat. “So, we have to, like… pick who we sit next to?”

It took a second, but something about the look on his face made it click for Grayson. He recognized that anxiety. And of course, it made sense. It was the same reason Elijah was probably sitting half-a-mile away from the rest of the group in the airport and why Zara hadn’t even recognized his name. Elijah didn’t know anyone here. Most of the people on this trip had grown up together, going to the same church functions and Sunday school classes since they were in diapers.

And then there was Elijah, who had only started showing up at the occasional service over the past several months, popping up in the back row every other week with the woman Grayson assumed to be his mother. They kept to themselves, usually slipping in the door a few minutes before service started and sneaking out just as quickly afterward. Grayson had tried to introduce himself a few times, inviting the both of them to lunch with his usual group of church friends after service. Neither of them had ever accepted, but they were always polite. Grayson was honestly surprised when he saw Elijah’s name pop up on the mission volunteer list at the beginning of Summer.

Now here he was, neglecting the most basic leadership duty of making sure he felt included in this strange place full of strange people.

“Hey. If you don’t have a seat partner yet, maybe we can board together?” Grayson suggested, trying to make his tone sound cool and casual.

“Oh.” Elijah blinked up at him. “You don’t have to do that.”

He smiled. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

Elijah looked incredulous. “Really? I thought you would want to sit with that girl you were with,” he said, shrugging. “It kind of seemed like the two of you were like… you know.”

Grayson’s eyes widened to what was probably a comically large size. “Zara?” He laughed, probably a notch too loud for the small space they were in. “No. Oh, gosh. No. Zara and I… we’re not. Absolutely not.”

“O…kay,” Elijah said. There was that hint of a smile again. That dimple. Grayson bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Well… thanks, then.”

“Sure. No problem.” Grayson nodded, hands going swiftly back in the pockets so he didn’t do something irredeemably nerdy like wave ‘goodbye.’ Instead, he turned smoothly on his heel and walked back toward Terminal C, only stopping once at the corner to cast a brief glance back at Elijah, who had gone back to nodding his head along with his music.

It wasn’t until he got back and saw Zara’s annoyed face that he realized he had forgotten her bagel.

***

TWO MONTHS LATER

The small aircraft rumbled beneath them as Grayson counted cars on the road below. They were low enough in the air, maintaining a low cruising altitude for the short flight, that he could make them out clearly from the small window; small dots of color speeding between patches of green treetops. A red one here, a white one there. Then he would blink for a second too long, the heaviness in his eyelids trying to pull him all the way under, and they would be gone. So he would begin again, finding a new dot to follow, starting the count from zero.

The double-paned glass was cool against his forehead, though it did nothing to alleviate the constant bite of pain that throbbed behind his eyes. The roar of the engine in the tiny space didn’t help, either. Every inch of his body was vibrating, but he suspected that wasn’t completely due to the mechanics of the plane.

Beside him, Elijah was asleep or pretending to be. Maybe he was just closing his eyes. They both had been offered something at the hospital to “take the edge off” for their journey into the city. Elijah had taken it without hesitation, but Grayson declined and was now only mildly regretting it. From across the small, almost non-existent aisle that separated them, Grayson could see the tension strung tight in his body; arms folded protectively over his stomach, legs pulled up onto the seat and pressed against his chest. He looked so small inside his own frame.

He remembered the way Elijah had clutched the armrest between them on the flight from America, knuckles going white during takeoff and landing, and how he had so badly wanted to reach out and cover his hand. He wished he could do the same now. It was all they had in Myles Fucking Voss’s basement—the soft, commiserate touch of your only companion in hell—so maybe it would be enough to get them through this, too.

But he didn’t try. He kept his hands firmly in his lap.

It was like a switch had been flipped. For fifty-eight days—according to the man in uniform who escorted them to the hospital—Elijah spent every last inch of himself protecting Grayson from harm. Now it was his turn. He attached himself to Elijah’s side, tensing whenever anyone got too close, looked too long, spoke too loudly in their direction.

In transit to the medical facility in the nearest city, a woman tried to usher them into separate ambulances and Grayson raised holy hell, nearly knocking over the gurney they had prepared for him. Finally, after realizing that he was only going to cause himself further damage if they continued to deny him, they allowed him to ride alongside Elijah. Beside him on the bumpy ride over, Grayson laid two fingers on his wrist, a silent question that Elijah answered immediately by clutching his hand. He held it tightly the whole way there.

Something had changed after they got to the hospital, though. They were forced to separate long enough to be examined by the doctors and their too-cold, too fast hands, and when they finally gave into Grayson’s demands to bring him back to Elijah, another switch had been flipped. This time, the switch cut all the power. Lights out. It pulled the life out of Elijah’s eyes, dissolved the palpable wire of energy that had run between them for the past two months.

It was just… gone.

When Grayson had tried to touch his hand, Elijah flinched away from him. Grayson had taken a step back, and that was that. He hadn’t tried to touch him again. 

Maybe Grayson accepted the shift in their dynamic so easily because a part of him had just been waiting for it to happen. For weeks, really, but especially over the course of the last three days, after what had happened... he had known his connection to Elijah was on borrowed time. How could it not be? He knew that at some point, something in Elijah’s brain would click into place; he would look at Grayson, truly look at him, and see. Remember. Realize. And he would pull away.

And he would be right to.

Now it seemed that the time had come, and Grayson needed to be okay with it. This was what Elijah needed, and frankly, it was what Grayson deserved. And that meant that as much as he wanted to hold his hand on this plane, to squeeze him with a desperation that said look, we’re still here, we made it, and we’re going home, a larger part of him realized that was probably the last thing he should do. More importantly, it was the last thing Elijah would want.

So he kept counting cars, hands to himself, eyes scanning the horizon every few minutes as the city drew nearer outside his window. They would be taken to a bigger airport, with all the noise and crowds that Elijah hated, packed onto an even bigger plane, and when they touched down again, they would return to familiar soil as strangers.

Grayson counted ten more before his eyelids won the battle, and he fell asleep to the purr of the engine that carried them closer to the uncertain future that awaited them in the distance.

***

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