#AI panic is going to be started

[s0fter-sin]

we’re like two days into the writers strike and studios have already said they’re thinking of using ai to write scripts for them i’m going to throw up

[arolesbianism]

I swear I'll never get over Olivia. Girlie rly just went I'm terrified of becoming like Jackie and then proceeded to follow her slippery slope anyways. She rly put herself in that robot huh.

[writersblockedx]

A Rekindled Kind of Love

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - Spencer and Y/n hadn't talked since the Summer before college and then he sees her name as the only survivor in their latest serial killer case. Warning - violence, drinking Words - 3.6K

A/n - It's be a while! I've had a surge of inspiration lately since becoming a little obsessed with character ai lol and thought to write this one into a little one-shot.

masterlist

Spencer was lying if he ever called any day at the BAU normal. Between serial killers, sadists, and everything else in between, the boy had a blurred definition of normal. So, he expected anything - or so he thought. When he entered the meeting room that morning, he hadn't expected the name of Y/N Y/L/N to pop up.

"We've got three victims and, weirdly, one survivor." Garcia started to explain, clicking through the victim's dead bodies, the woman squirming at just a glance of the photos. "Whoever this sicko is, he's going after journalists. His latest victim, Y/n Y/l/n, was actually able to get away before he had a chance to kill her."

Spencer stopped. His gaze snapped up as Garcia clicked once more and he caught sight of the girl he once knew. Only now was she older, and her expression was stern. The unsub had left her features tainted, early bruises and several cuts littering over her. "She's pretty distraught says doctors, but she's alive and well."

He couldn't stop staring at her, memories of high school, of that last summer, of their blissfully ignorant friendship fueling his feelings. This was not normal. None of what he felt was normal - not for him away. "He stabs them?" Emily observed, all of the team had yet to clock onto the haze Spencer had suddenly found himself in.

Garcia hummed, "Yep, as many times as it takes before they...you know...die."

"He's aggressive, he's got no remorse for these victims," JJ spoke, glancing between her file at the screen in front of her.

"Not only are they all journalists, but they're female journalists too." Rossi added. "There's got to be some reason for that too."

Hotch nodded, "Either way, we should take Y/n into our care. She's the first to get away, I doubt he's happy about that-"

The shaggy-haired boy couldn't seem to take it. The way Y/n had gotten herself mixed in like she was any other victim, like she wasn't once the most important person in Spencer's life. "Excuse me," The boy stood abruptly, not giving any reasoning to the team before he practically ran out, gasping for breath.

The team were left with nothing. Their expressions moulding into ones of confusion, and puzzlement, "What's up with him?" Morgan was the first to question. But it was only met with the same uncertain expressions and a shrug from Hotch.

Morgan took it upon himself to stand, following Spencer out into the adjacent hallway where Spencer was panic pacing. A hand swooped through his hair as his thoughts raced. "Hey, kid, slow down," Morgan soothed. He hadn't realised the arrival of Derek until he spoke. Spencer turned, swallowing the lump which had since grown in his throat. "The hells going on with you?"

He took a breath. He evened his lungs and took a moment before confiding, "I- erm- I know her, Y/n Y/l/n, the survivor." He explained and that was enough for Morgan to understand. "Well, I suppose I knew her, we lost contact when we went to college, but we had been friends."

Morgan gazed back into the meeting room, "Reid, it's okay. She's okay, you know? She survived."

His head shook, "It doesn't matter. You heard Hotch, she's still a target." She wasn't safe and that fact was only nagging at Spencer.

"Alright, alright, how about I talk to Hotch? We'll go to the hospital, you make sure she's okay yourself?" Reid had barely agreed before Morgan walked back into that meeting room.

Of course, he wanted to make sure she was okay. But that also meant seeing her, after all these years. Spencer didn't know what had changed - if anything had. And he didn't know which option was scarier. Either way, he soon found himself at the hospital, waiting at the reception desk as a doctor went to find her.

His feet were tapping, his nerves obvious to Morgan. "Reid, calm down, she's gonna be alright," He said, but no words from Morgan or a doctor was going to help. He needed to see her.

"It's not just that I'm worried about." What if everything had changed? What if nothing had? What if-

He turned and found his eyes on her. She still had that same look. That same smile, the same soft gaze, the same ease about her that Spencer craved. But this was the very moment he feared.

She wandered up to him, quickening her pace as much as she was able to considering her state. "Spencer," She said his name like a sigh of relief. Before he realised it, her arms were wrapped around his neck, melting into his touch as if no time had passed.

"Hi," He breathed into her ear; she was safe. The hug didn't last long enough. How could it? They had 12 years of missed hugs.

"I can't believe you're here, the doctor said a profiler and then said it was Doctor Reid and I-" She trailed on, "I don't know why I was so surprised. Of course, you made it big."

Spencer shrugged, "I wouldn't call this big." The boy became sheepish, almost flushed and Derek Morgan had certainly taken notice. "I'm sorry I stopped calling and I should have-"

"Oh, Spence, save it," She chuckled lightly, "I could have picked up that phone just as well as you had. I just wish we could have met under different circumstances."

He nodded, "Yeah, well about that," Spencer turned to bring Derek into the conversation, "This is Agent Morgan, he's erm gonna help."

Morgan sent his usual cheeky smirk as he did with any pretty lady, "It's good to meet you, sweetheart. Glad to hear you're feeling better too."

Spencer hadn't expected anything less from the man. "Look, I don't know if the doctor explained it to you, but we're under the belief that this unsub may still be targeting you."

"Unsub?" She reiterated.

"The killer that went after you." Morgan answered, "Unknown subject, unsub for short."

"We erm- we have to take you in, make sure you're safe kind of thing," Spencer explained, fidgeting with his fingers as she glanced between them and the girl in front of her.

Her pupils grew worrisome, "You think I'm still in danger?"

Spencer hated that word. Even the thought of Y/n in danger made his spine shiver. "You're the first to get away, we erm- we don't think he'll be very happy about it. He could lash out, many unsubs, new unsubs especially, a victim getting away could be like a double stressor, he could be on a rampage, he could be doing nothing but think about getting to you." He realised he was rambling and his words were only worrying the girl more, "Sorry, I just, I want to make sure you're safe."

But Y/n understood, "It's alright, Spence. I'll go grab my things."

With that, a rush filled the girl as she turned her back on the two agents, wandering back into the hospital room she had come from. Spencer's eyes hadn't left from where her figure was once standing. This was personal for him - even if he hadn't seen the girl for years now. "She's not just someone from high school, is she?" Morgan realised as he observed Spencer.

He turned to him as if he had just left the trail of thoughts in his mind, "Hm?" He turned back to look at Morgan.

His response had only made Morgan smile, "Y/n, she seems more to you than that."

"It was..." The boy thought back to it, to that Summer, he didn't know how else to describe it, what they had, her. "Complicated."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

12 Years Prior, Las Vegas

Y/n always had something Spener didn't: Popularity. Well, in a way. Spencer was cast away from many of his peers. A social reject. While, Y/n was a social butterfly of sorts. She took to a crowd with ease. The type of girl that could make friends with anyone.

The boy had certainly hit the jackpot when he was assigned to tutor her. Over the course of several sessions, they had bonded over literature, future college plans and, surprisingly, Y/n's distaste to certain 'jocks' - as the social hierarchy liked to describe them as.

She was the only reason Spencer turned up to the end of year house party. Crowds weren't his thing, drinking neither. But she...she was worth it.

"Spencer!" The girl gleamed as he wandered into the house. 

He didn't belong at all. His shoulders were stiff, his glasses at the edge of his nose. But, despite such, Y/n still took him into a longing hug. "H- Hi." He greeted, his eyes flickering all over the place. From the demolished kitchen to the living room where drunken teens were dancing on top of couches and coffee tables.

Her brow raised, "Come on, we'll get you a drink." Her hand slipped into his, bringing the boy back to his attention: her. "You do drink right?" She checked as she guided him towards said demolished kitchen.

"Erm, not a heavy drinker but, sure I can have one."

"You sure?" She spoke ever so softly, "You know you don't have to."

"Just one." He offered her a smile.

She grasped a few bottles: vodka, rum, tequila. "Pick your poison."

Spencer had simply shrugged, a chuckle at the tip of his tongue, "I'll have whatever you're having."

"Rum it is!"

She poured the two the same drink - almost half liquor, half mixer. Spencer coughed when he swallowed, causing the girl to giggle, "Too much?"

But Spencer simply shook his head, "Just perfect," He almost joked as he leaned onto the kitchen counter next to the girl, "I almost didn't come," He admitted.

"I don't blame you," He gazed down at her answer, his expression urging her to add some context. "Ashley James puked up after two drinks, Kacy and Liam broke up, now Liam's making out with Polly. It's just...a mess." Her eyes rolled. "But then again, what was I expecting?"

Spencer smiled at her. She was good at knowing like everything. While he was filled with facts and statistics, Y/n knew everything about everyone. Within one look, she knew your secrets. Maybe that's why she was so good with people. "We can go somewhere else if you want?" He suggested.

His question brought along an idea for the girl. With her free hand, she took Spencer's and led him out into the back garden. Whoever lived here was almost rich. Well, rich enough for a pool and a pretty big outdoor area. "Come on," Y/n urged him as she pulled the boy towards the edge of the pool.

She slipped her shoes off, sitting down and letting her legs dangle into the fresh water. Spencer watched her for a moment before joining her, the two sipping on their drinks. "Better?" She asked him.

He nodded, "Much."

"At least we've got Summer now, no more being forced to see them assholes." She joked.

Spencer's brows narrowed in thought, "You mean the assholes that you were friends with until you met me?"

"Well you got me there, Spence." She shrugged, "Social survival, that's what I call it. It's not as if there won't be similar people in college. I mean, fucking sororities, semi-pro football leagues, frats?"

"I'm sure you'll fit in amazingly at Princeton." His smile seemed to falter at his own words.

She gazed at the boy who seemed captivated by the slowly swaying water below them, "We'll still call you know, text, just cause we're in different places, doesn't mean anything, Spencer." Y/n attempted to comfort him.

"That's what everyone says but, I don't know." He shook his head, ignoring a thought.

But she noticed it; she noticed everything, "But what?"

He huffed and stared over at her, his eyes pooling in admiration. "You're one of the best things to have happened to me in a long time you know," He offered her a smile, "I couldn't even imagine losing you."

The girl bit her lip. Something was on her mind and Spencer had noticed. He too noticed everything about her. But he didn't ask. Partly, because he didn't have the chance to. Her eyes flickered to his lips. Then to his eyes. And before Spencer could realise, she had leant in, her lips at his. Without even realising, she had changed everything for the boy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Spencer accompanied the woman towards a private, interview room. He would offer support and comfort but at the same time, he had a job to do. A part of that was questioning. She was the only person to know this unsub. As difficult as it would be for her, he would have to ask them questions.

"Hey," Emily spoke as he entered the room, two coffees in hand: one for Spencer and one for Y/n. "Coffee orders are here," She smiled as she placed them at the table between the two. "I'm Emily, Reid says you're an old friend."

Her eyes flickered to the man before she shook Emily's hand, "Something like that yeah."

"Well, we're here if you need anything, alright?" She said, "You're in good hands here, especially with our Doctor Reid."

With that, Emily left to join the rest of the team who were busy compiling a profile. Which left her and Spencer. This was the part he wasn't looking forward to. "I've erm, I've got to ask you some questions, it'll help us understand this unsub, help us find him." He explained. When she nodded, the boy continued, "I'm going to ask you to close your eyes, alright? And then I'm just going to go through the night you were attacked. Is that okay?"

She swallowed the lump which had grown in her throat, "Yeah," She muttered.

Y/n followed the instructions and let her eyelids close before Spencer started the exercise, "Okay, just go back to that night. You were on 9th Street, correct?"

"Yes."

"It was getting late, but it was summer, think about the air, was it still warm? What sort of things could hear, anything?"

She thought back to it. Y/n had just finished her work week, she was walking home from the Subway. "There's a group of girls on the other side of the road, they're giggling. Drunk, I assume."

"That's good, that's really good." Spencer praised, "Then when did you realise something was off?"

Her brows furrowed and she thought about it, the pit in her stomach growing, "Someone- someone was yelling. A man. I thought he was like bible bashing so I wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying."

"Think." Spencer jumped in, "Listen to him, pick any words, any phrases that stick out to you."

And she did so. Her mind ran through the memory, "Something, something about an agenda, the- the snowflake agenda? It's ruining America it's-" She cut herself off as the memory reached the worst part. "That's when he grabbed me." Her voice quickened, her breaths soon becoming uneven. "He had a knife to my neck- he pulled me to an ally. I- Spencer."

Her hand reached out over the table instinctively, "It's okay," He too had become panicked just seeing her's. "I'm here, it's over, you can open your eyes."

When she finally did, she took one breath. A sigh of relief that she was okay. And then, a single tear dropped from her eyeline. Spencer couldn't take it. He stood and she followed suit, "Come here," He spoke before taking her into a tight hug. "You're safe, I promise." 

She pulled away just slightly but never dared to break touch, "The only reason I got away was because I had pepper spray in my bag," She explained. 

Spencer thought on that and then an idea came to mind. "Come with me," The boy took a hold of her hand, guiding the girl through the bullpen towards the meeting room where the rest of the team had been.

The round table was scattered with files and papers. Garcia typed away at her laptop while the rest were debriefing. At the entrance of the pair, they glanced up. 

Before they could ask any questions, Spencer started rambling, never daring to let go of Y/n's hand. "The unsub was protesting on the street, he's some kind of right-wing enthusiast. He was going on about the left-wing 'agenda', about how it's ruining America." He explained. "Not only that, but Y/n used pepper spray on him."

Like that, they had something, "He would have had to go to the hospital?" JJ thought.

"Or at least bought some kind of medical supplies."

"Yeah, saline wipes or there's a nasal spray that helps the pain." Spencer went on to explain.

From there, Hotch turned to Garcia, "Cross check avid right-wing protesters in the D.C. areas, men with low criminal offences, things like hate crime. Then look at anyone whose been admitted for treatment of pepper spray or has bought any medical supplies to treat it."

Like that, the aggressive typing ensued. The team were all waiting, Y/n still at Spencer's side, anxious for the name of her attacker to be revealed. "I've got it, Tony Jones."

When Hotch stood from his chair, the rest of the team started to follow. "Send us the address, Garcia."

"Already done it, Sir."

Each of the team members stood, one by one walking passed Y/n. That was apart from Garcia who was still glued to her laptop, sending the address to the rest of the team. Spencer was about to turn when Y/n reached for the boy's hand once again. Her eyes filled with nothing but worry. "Do you have to go?"

Her question had made his heart ache. His eyes flickered to Garcia who was already glancing at the two, "I- I probably should but, but Garcia will stay with you." He offered.

Y/n looked back at the extravagant woman who was smiling, "Of course, I've got loads of things I can show you in my office!" She gleamed.

Y/n returned the smile before turning back to Spencer, "You'll be careful, right?"

The boy nodded, "Of course," He replied before taking her in his arms once again. But this time, when he pulled away ever so slightly, it was to place a gentle kiss to her forehead.

And like that, a soft smile, a goodbye, was passed between the two before Spencer turned away to join the rest of the team. She stared out the door of the conference room until Spencer slipped away. From there, she turned, a weak smile given to Garcia as she came to join her at the round table.

The other woman had watched the interaction and, while she wasn't a profiler, she wasn't oblivious to the world of loving. "He really cares about you, doesn't he?" She asked. Though, Garcia already knew the answer.

"I care about him just as much," Even after all this time, a piece of her heart still belonged to Spencer Reid - it always would.

"You're not just an old friend, are you?"

Y/n swallowed, glimmers of that high school Summer filling her brain. "It was, complicated." She described. "We erm, only really had a Summer as..." How could she describe it? "More than friends, I guess. And then we were both shipped off to college. And I mean, we lost contact. As a lot of people do." And 12 years later here she was.

Garcia offered her a smile, "You still love him, don't you?"

The girl giggled but gave a nod, "I don't think I ever stopped."

"Well, if my time with Doctor Reid has taught me anything, the way he is with you, I mean it's like no other." Her hand brushed at her shoulder gently, "I don't think your feeling is one-sided."

That would stick in her head for the next hour. While Spencer and the rest of the team were arresting Tony Jones, Garcia was giving the girl a tour of her office. Everything wonderful and weird. And while she tried her best to pay attention, her mind kept being dragged over to Spencer. If he was safe, if he was coming back...if, once again, everything had changed.

She knew one thing: she would make sure they didn't lose contact this time around.

When the boy finally returned, he practically rushed through the BAU to find her. She was at Garcia's side as they exited her office, "Y/n," He called.

The girl's head snapped to him, her pace quickening as she came to reach him, "Did you?"

He nodded, "He's at the station, don't worry." He assured.

"Oh, good, yeah," She spoke before a sigh fell from her lips. "So, I mean, what happens now? Do I just go home?" The idea of such, while stupid to think so, was almost disappointing. Going home meant she wasn't in Spencer's company any longer. And that wasn't something she wasn't to lose just yet.

But Spencer's reaction was a similar one, "I can walk you home, if you want of course."

Her smile grew, "I'd like that."

"I'll just erm," He gestured to his FBI vest, "I'll only be a second."

And so she watched him leave for barely a minute, coming back in his shirt. He took her hand, led her into the lift and pressed for the ground floor. A moment of silence. A moment of thought. One of which was urgring Y/n on.

She glanced over at the boy, "You know I always think everything happens for a reason." Her nerves suddenly flooded her body as she realised what she was about to admit, "And as much as getting jumped was not fun, I'm glad it brought me back to you, Spencer."

Y/n turned to face him, barely any space between them, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Spence."

With that, Y/n made the leap. She closed that gap, their lips meeting every so soft, ever so longing. Like they had both been waiting for this moment for 12 years. And when they pulled away, her hands cupping his face and his placed at her waist, it was like they were 18 again. "Promise we'll keep in contact now?" He almost joked.

And she chuckled, "Promise."

[aitworld]

AI panic is going to be started?

Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been a hot topic for years, and as AI technology continues to evolve, people’s attitudes towards it are changing. Some are excited about the possibilities that AI can offer, while others fear that AI will have a negative impact on society, leading to what has been called “AI panic.” The Origins of AI Panic AI panic is not a new phenomenon, and it can be traced…

[fangswbenefits]

Another Chance

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You go into labour and all you know is that you need Miguel more than ever.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Mentions of childbirth. Dad Miguel. Comfort. Fluff. Happy father’s day to the best of the best!

“I'M GONNA KILL MIGUEL O’HARA!”

Usually, that sort of threat would send everyone that was standing around you into an uproar. But given the extremely specific set of circumstances, they merely exchanged understanding glances, returning their attention to the task at hand.

“Jess… I’m going to kill him.”

The pain of the contractions felt too unbearable and gritting out empty threats was the only relief you could find right now.

“You have my blessing,” she nodded, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "But for now, we need to deliver the baby."

It was too early. This wasn't supposed to happen right now... not like this.

A spider-nurse approached you with a fetal heart monitor to strap around your belly. Your already accelarated heart nearly imploded at the sight, fearing what the machine might reveal.

"Jess... I can't do this..." your voice broke.

Where is he...

Where is Miguel?

Your friend glared at you with kind eyes, swipping a piece of cloth along your sweat-drenched forehead. "You can and you will."

As another contraction tore through your body, you barely managed to grab the railings of your bed with a huff of pain. The spider-nurse was done setting the monitor and was now probing your arm for a vein.

"Where is Miguel?" you managed through laboured pants. "Lyla... where is he?"

The AI's hologram appeared from the watch on your wrist, that Jess promptly removed. You gave her a confused look, but it was probably for the better.

"He should be here soon. The anomaly is—" Lyla was cut off immediately by Jess.

The heart monitor was switched on and the room went suddenly eerily too quiet, save for your gasps.

Tense seconds rolled by that felt like excrutiating hours, until the sound of a thudding heart was heard.

"Slightly accelerated heartrate going at 191 beats per minute," spider-doctor informed. "The baby might be in distress."

Panic took over. "Do something! Miguel!"

The team attending you were working relentlessly, but no consolation came. The pain was borderline unbearable and your fear for your child's life.

... and Miguel was not here.

"You need to push," one spider-nurse said.

"Push," Jess urged. "You're doing great," she added with a warm smile.

She kept trying her best to soothe and guide you through the untimely turmoil, but it wasn't until your eyes caught a flash of two sets of claws tearing through the barrier of time and space in the middle of the room that you allowed yourself to slump back into your bed.

A cry of relief broke from deep within you as a fully suited Miguel O'hara emerged through the portal, sprinting to your side. The mask vanished instantly as he framed your face with both hands.

"I'm here."

You started sobbing uncontrollably when he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"Boss, she's fully dilated," spider-doctor spoke. "We really need her to push now."

"Miguel... this wasn't..." you stammered, gritting your teeth as the crescendo of another contraction began. "Where... I—”

He hushed you and anchored you through the pain. "You have to push, okay?"

Compared to a few minutes ago, Miguel's presence was nothing short of absolute comfort. But it wasn't enough the push away the fear that had overtaken you.

Jess was still by your side, whispering encouraging words as the staff worked in between your spread legs. Your vision blurred momentarily and you felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to push.

"This is all your... fault," you seethed at Miguel.

"On that much we can agree," he said softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that mixed with sweat down your cheeks. "Push."

Blaming him was just a quick way to ease some of the frustration. He wasn't to blame. You had both wanted this.

"I can see the head!" you heard someone announce.

Miguel offered his hand for you to grip as you pushed. "I'll break it," you warned.

"You won't."

"He deserves it," Jess said teasingly.

But Miguel was right. As strong as you were — and the strength that women in labour were capable of mustering — you wouldn't even cause a dent in him. He was strong enough for the both of you.

"What´s taking so long?" his faint voice filled your ears.

"Almost there."

Suddenly, he had cradled your face in his large hands once more, forcing your eyes to fix on his. "You can do this. I'm so proud of you," he said, pecking the tip of your nose.

The air in your lungs was suddenly forced out with a finally throat-ripping grunt.

"It's here!"

You collapsed, feeling Miguel's arm promptly offering support on your back. A screeching sound of distress reverberated through the walls.

"It's a girl," one spider-nurse informed.

Even through your hazy eyes you were able to see Miguel's face, eyes transfixed on the little squirming baby that was being placed on your chest.

She was crying her heart out as someone who has been ripped from all the comfort and security a place could offer.

But now she had you and Miguel.

"She takes after you," you teased with a faint smile. "Already being so dramatic."

He chuckled, eyes permanently glued to the wailing baby. "I'm not dramatic. Just intense."

"Yes. Intensely dramatic.”

Miguel fell silent as he stroked a finger along the back of one soft tiny hand, miniscule fingers wrapping around it reflexively. The cries stopped abruptly.

His face softened and you wondered if he was about to tear up. He had longed for this for such a long time.

"Miguel?" Jessica said, covering your child with a towel.

He seemed too lost in his own thoughts, glaring at his daughter in a way that overwhelmed you. Like it was meant to be.

"I'll be going now," she said, offering you both a warm smile before leaving.

Suddenly, you realised Miguel was inspecting each limb with utmost attention. "What are you doing?"

He cleared his throat, placing a tiny hand on the palm of his. "Oh... uh... just counting how many fingers and toes she has."

"All five?" you offered with a chuckle.

"All five."

"No talons?"

He glared at you as if taken aback, then smiled. "Maybe one day."

"Do you think she'll have your fangs?"

"Oh, I hope not," he said, slowly checking the baby's bare gums. "That would be painful."

You then allowed yourself to take in the sight of your now relaxed daughter that lay on top of you. The wispy beginnings of hair that covered the top of her head were dark. Babies don't tend to resemble either parent when they're born - or so Miguel had once told you - and you couldn't wait to find out.

"What if... she doesn't like me?" he whispered, caressing a puffy cheek.

You almost chuckled, but he was dead serious. "She'll love you."

He leaned to place a kiss to your temple. "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked, feeling your heart bursting with absolute adoration for him.

"For giving me another chance at being a father."

Masterlist

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Epilogue

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 31. Panic Attack Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: As you begin to head home after your traumatic night, you discover Tyler's concerns were valid. But can you learn to overcome your fears when your greatest fear might still come true? Are things truly over between you and Tyler? Word Count: 5283 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, PTSD, Panic Attack, Head Injury, Blood, Dissociating, Heartbreak, Tears, Tyler carries Reader, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @green-socks for the incredible beta read and advice! And to @mayhem24-7forever and @blue-aconite for all the constant support! Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event!

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Unfortunately, Tyler had been right about how the events of that night would affect you.

Scott got you checked into the hospital and they managed to remove all the remaining glass from your aching body. They also ran a CT scan on your head to make sure you hadn’t done more damage when you hit it than you thought. It came back as a mild concussion, but they wanted to keep you overnight for observation just to be safe. They also put you on an IV since you were slightly dehydrated (probably from all the tears you’d shed that night).

As you settled into your temporary accommodations, you told Scott he could go back to the motel and pick you up tomorrow. There was no reason he should hang out here all night when he already rented a room with a somewhat comfortable bed before all of this happened. He didn’t respond either way, just sunk down lower in the chair he was sitting in. 

Taking that as him intending to stay, you rolled over and tried to get comfortable in the lumpy hospital bed. You stared at the empty space beside you where Tyler usually lay and you reached out, as if touching that spot would somehow make him appear. But of course, he didn’t. He was back picking up the pieces of your budding relationship in what was left of your shattered motel room.

You try to bury your head in your pillow so Scott doesn’t see the tears forming in your eyes, but you can’t hold back a loud sniffle as you think about all that you lost tonight. Scott must have heard it because he rose from his chair and ducked out of the room. You didn’t blame him. After all, he’d never been good with emotions—expressing them or dealing with them—and you were only just starting to reestablish your relationship so he had to be uncomfortable.

Ten minutes later, however, Scott walked back into the room. Coming up to your bed, he thrust his hand out. “Here.”

You blinked in surprise at the teddy bear he held out to you. It was about a foot tall with brown fur. There was a bandaid on its head next to its ear, its arm was in a sling, and one of its legs was wrapped in bandages. Scrawled across its tummy in childlike writing was the phrase “Get Well Soon”. 

Taking it from him with trembling hands, you asked, “Wh-where did you…?”

He shrugged. “The gift shop. I thought you might want something to keep you company while you sleep.”

“I love it, Scotty. Thank you.” You squeeze the bear tightly to your chest. Smiling up at your brother, you said, “I’m gonna call him Bill.”

Scott’s brow furrowed. “Why Bill?”

You shrugged, holding out your new friend to look at him. “I don’t know. He just looks like a Bill.”

Scott sighed as he shook his head, but you caught a glimpse of a small smile on his lips as he walked back to the chair he had been sitting in earlier and flopped back down. He pulled the bill of his baseball hat down so it covered his face as he sunk deeper into his seat. 

Picking at Bill’s bandage, you asked softly, “So, you’ll be here all night? Like if I…if I need something?”

“Yeah,” Scott said from under his hat. “I won’t leave you alone.”

Nodding in gratitude, you whispered, “Thank you, Scotty. For everything.”

With one finger—in an act that reminded you so much of Tyler—he pushed the bill of his hat up enough so he could see you. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you and that last conversation we had was the last time I ever got to talk to you.”

“I’m glad we’ve gotten to talk more and work everything out.”

“Me too.” Scott's smile widened. Then he pulled his hat back down over his face. “Now, try to get some sleep. You’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow.”

Rolling back over, you tucked Bill under your arm and hugged him tight to your chest. As you began to drift off, you wondered if Tyler was lying down to sleep yet, and—if he was—if he was thinking of you too.

You're back in that motel room. All the lights are out and you are standing by the bed in that merch shirt and your underwear. Looking around, you realize that you’re alone. Tyler isn’t anywhere to be seen. 

You take a single step forward and the entire room explodes. The window in front of you shatters into millions of tiny dagger-like pieces of glass which drive into you, pinning you to the floor. Your head slams into the bed and you feel a river of blood flowing into your hair and pooling around you. The wind seems to have come alive as it growls and roars at you, clawing at your legs and trying to drag you through the now gaping hole in the wall. You scream out for Tyler, for Scotty, for anyone who might save you but there is no one. As the blood continues to gush from your head, the pool rises, spilling into your mouth and drowning you. You gasp for air which is stolen by the storm and—

“We can’t snap her out of it, she’s not coming to.”

“All this screaming is going to terrify the other patients.”

“She’s thrashing around too much, she’s going to pull out her IV.”

“We need to sedate her.”

“Wh-what’s going on? What’s wrong with her? Is she okay?”

Even through the terror flooding your system, you recognized that last voice as your brother’s. But before you could open your eyes or try to reach him, you felt a small prick on your arm and you were pulled down into a dark, dreamless unconsciousness.

When you slowly woke up again, you noticed sunlight streaming through the half-opened blinds. Your throat was even sorer than you remembered when you fell asleep and it felt bone dry. Reaching blindly next to you for a glass of water, you felt hands gently take yours and lay it back on the bed.

“Hey,” Scott said softly, stepping into your field of vision. “Just rest. Do you need something?”

“Water,” you croaked out, your tongue running over your chapped lips. 

Scott disappeared for a moment then reappeared with a plastic cup. You tried to take it from him only to finally realize your hand felt heavy and sluggish when you tried to move it—as did the rest of your body. Scott must have noticed because he lifted your head and helped you drink. After you had chugged most of the cup (spilling a lot of it down the front of your hospital gown), you felt a little better. 

Clearing your throat, you asked, “What happened?”

“You had a nightmare last night.” Scott settled back into a chair he must have dragged up next to the bed. “They couldn’t wake you up and were afraid you’d hurt yourself so they sedated you.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember any of that?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah.” You shuddered slightly as you recalled your nightmare. “I guess Tyler was right about how what happened might have affected me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Scott reached out and took your hand. Something caught his eye and he grabbed it off the floor with his free hand. Gently, he placed Bill on the bed next to you. “Guess he didn’t do such a good job watching over you.” 

Grabbing the bear, you hugged it tightly. “He did his best. Sometimes, there’s only so much you can do to protect someone.” Tears began to fill your eyes. “And sometimes, protecting someone means making painful decisions. But even then, it might not be enough.” 

Scott scoffed softly. “Something tells me you’re not talking about Bill anymore.”

You shook your head. “Tyler tried so hard to keep me safe. He even sent me away despite it breaking both our hearts to do it. But it didn’t matter. I left like he wanted but the storm still followed me. Now I’m afraid I’ll never be rid of it and I gave up someone I loved for nothing.”

Scott shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with you once again admitting you were in love with Tyler, but he resisted his usual urge to insult him, instead calmly saying, “We all knew this wasn’t going to be an overnight process. Owens told you to leave because he didn’t want you to have to face the possibility of encountering another storm. But that was never going to fix the damage done to you by the first one. I don’t know what it’ll take to heal that, but I do know I’m not turning my back on you again. Whatever you need, I’ll be there to help you through it.”

The tears that had formed in your eyes began streaming down your face. You opened your arms, fully expecting him to not take the invitation. But to your utter surprise, Scott leaned forward and wrapped you in a—slightly awkward—embrace. 

With his head next to yours, you whispered your deepest fears to your brother, “What if I can’t move past this? What if what happened last night is just my new normal for the rest of my life? And what if…what if Tyler realizes he doesn’t really love me or want to deal with all this new baggage I have?” 

Scott flinched at your admitted fears. Hesitating for a moment, he finally admitted, “I don’t know the answer to those questions. I think you need to find someone to talk to, like a therapist. I have some friends who might know someone who specializes in stuff like this and I’ll make some calls. As for Owens, if he can’t see what an amazing woman you are, baggage or no, then I was right all along about him. But…” He sighed in a way that made it seem like whatever came next pained him to say, “He seems to really care about you and, from what I saw last night, he didn’t want you to leave any more than you wanted to leave. So, I don’t think you have to worry about him not reaching out once the season’s over. And if he doesn’t, I can always run him over with Scarecrow.”

You laughed even as your snot and tears stained Scott’s shirt. “Would that be more for my honor or just because you’ve wanted to do that for so long anyway?”

“Can’t it be both?”

You laughed again and you felt as the last remaining bit of your nightmare still clinging to you faded into oblivion. However, you knew it’d be back. Last night was just a taste of what you should expect moving forward. 

You were discharged from the hospital later that day with a bottle of sleeping pills and your promise to find a therapist to help you deal with your nightmares. Once you left, Scott drove you to the airport as promised. He sat with you until it was time to go through security. Then, you gave your brother the biggest hug you could manage and said goodbye. You would think with all the goodbyes you had to say the last two days you would have gotten used to them. But as you turned one final time to look at him before you passed through the security doors, tears filled your eyes once more. 

You had found or rediscovered two families on this trip only to once again be left all alone.

The flight home was uneventful. You had called ahead and explained everything to your best friend so she was waiting to take you to your apartment as soon as you walked out of the terminal. Despite your objections, she insisted on staying with you for the first couple of nights after hearing about your hospital freakout. But you didn’t want her to see you like that, to know how bad things really were. So, you tried your best to stay awake the entire time she was there (and luckily the one time you did doze off, you were so exhausted you didn’t dream at all). So, she left two days later, confident that you would be alright on your own.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Even safely back in your own apartment, far from the rolling plains and open skies of Oklahoma, the events of that night continued to haunt you. Anytime the wind picked up outside or you heard a police or fire siren go off, you flashed back to that motel room and devolved into a full-blown panic attack. And every night you woke up multiple times, gasping for breath and terrifiedly retreating from any window in your apartment. At least when the storm had actually hit, you had Tyler there to comfort you. Now, you were alone.

One night after a particularly bad attack, you managed to roll out of bed and crawl into your closet. There, curled in a ball on the floor, you sobbed and shook as that night replayed in your mind. But then, you heard a voice whispering “Shhh… sweetheart, it’s over now. We’re okay, we’re okay. We made it.” 

Your head shot up and you looked around the dark space. “Tyler?”

But of course, he wasn’t there. It was just part of the memory. Yet as you laid back down on the floor, it wasn’t the howling of the wind roaring in your ears or pulling at your clothes, it was Tyler’s voice repeating those words over and over again that you heard and you felt his fingers caressing your skin as he tried to soothe you. In minutes, you had drifted off to sleep.

After that, you spent most nights curled in the bottom of your closet. You cleaned out the shoes and boxes scattered across the floor, laid a few blankets down, tossed in a pillow, and placed Bill on top so he was waiting for you. It wasn’t the most comfortable of arrangements, but being in the closet helped ease some of the terror from your dreams, so it would do. 

Scott had an old friend from MIT whose sister was now one of the country’s top PTSD therapists so, true to his word, he made a call to get you an appointment. It felt a little strange being labeled as having PTSD, but then again, you couldn’t think of any other way to describe what you were dealing with. 

It took more than a few visits, but eventually, your work with the therapist seemed to be paying off. You still had the nightmares but they became a few times a week occurrence instead of an every night thing. And even when you did have one, you could usually manage to calm yourself down and go back to sleep shortly after (though you were still sleeping in your closet most nights just to be on the safe side). 

You called Scott after every appointment to let him know how it went. Since you had gotten home, you talked to your brother at least once a day, usually just to check in and see how you were doing. Things still weren’t perfect between the two of you, but they were better than they had been in years. In fact, your relationship was probably better than it had ever been. Scott was still his usual no-nonsense, unemotional, snarky self, but there was a softness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. And you even made him laugh on occasion.

He never mentioned Tyler and you never asked. 

A few times a week, you received texts or emails from the Wranglers, usually sending you a funny video or asking how you were. You missed your little found family so much and it was a relief to see you weren’t the only one. Part of you thought they might not give you a second thought once you left, but it was clear they missed you as much as you missed them. 

They never mentioned Tyler and you never asked.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to watch any of their YouTube videos, old or new. Once you had gotten deeper into your therapy though, your therapist encouraged you to. She said it would help tackle some of your fears of the storms by experiencing one, but all from the complete safety of your apartment. It was sound advice…if that was your issue with the videos.

You didn’t tell her it wasn’t that you couldn’t face the storm, it was that you couldn’t bear to see or hear Tyler in the videos. Even seeing his picture on one of the thumbnails had made your heart ache and tears well up in your eyes before you slammed the laptop shut.

Part of you felt stupid about how much you missed him. After all, he had only been in your life for three weeks. Yet you had known from your first kiss that you never wanted anyone else. In your mind, Tyler was it for you and to have him ripped away so suddenly was devastating. You knew if you watched those videos, they would just remind you of riding beside him in that perfect bubble you had lived in for those few weeks. When the world was perfect and nothing could go wrong. How naive you had been.

But as much as the pain of saying goodbye was on your mind, worse was the constant fear that you shared with Scott in the hospital. That the distance would make Tyler realize he didn’t want you and you would be left sitting by the phone for a call that would never come. And seeing Ty, hearing his voice as he did the thing he loved most in this world, would make that eventual rejection hurt all the more. If you maintained your clean break, then if things were truly over, you didn’t have to start the healing process all over again once it became clear you’d never hear from Tyler again.

Or that’s what you told yourself. 

Thirty-six days after you left Oklahoma, you were cleaning up after dinner when your phone rang. Figuring it was Scott calling for his nightly check-in, you paused your music and snatched your phone off the counter. 

Your world stopped as you saw the contact photo staring back at you. 

It was the first time you had seen his face since the thumbnail incident and he was every bit as handsome as in your memories. Pressing the answer button, you raised your trembling hand to your ear, still not believing it was really him.

“Hello?” you whispered, voice quivering as you held your breath.

There was a slight pause, and then, “Hey, sweetheart. You feeling up for a visitor?”

You let out a shaky breath of relief, as the sound of his voice washes over you. “Fuck yeah, I am,” you said, tears streaming down your beaming face. “I’ve been waiting for your sorry ass to call since the moment I left. How soon can you be here?”

He chuckled, the sound sending a warm glow spreading through your body. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your phone slipped from your fingers and your head shot up as there was a loud knock at your door.

Tripping over your own feet as you scrambled towards the door, you flung it open without pausing to confirm who was on the other side. 

And there he was.

Whether it was true or just the fact you had gone so long without seeing him, Tyler had never looked more handsome. With his hair freshly trimmed, just a faint hint of stubble lining his cheeks, and wearing a fresh pair of jeans with a new button-down green shirt that highlighted his eyes, he was breathtaking. But what really made you weak in the knees was the dimpled grin he gave you as his eyes lit up upon seeing you.

“There’s my girl.”

You launched yourself into his arms, tears streaming down your face as your lips found his. You heard his hat and phone clatter to the ground where he had been holding them, but you didn’t care. His hands settled on your waist—you had forgotten how large and strong they were—and he pulled you flush against his body. You gasped into his mouth at the sudden movement and he rocked gently against your hips. 

He still smelled like the moment before a rainstorm, fresh and earthy, but he had also put on some cologne for the occasion. It was only then that you realized while he had gotten all fancy for his visit, you were currently in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a tank top stained by tonight’s spaghetti sauce. And that wasn’t even mentioning the state of your hair or your lack of makeup.

Peeling your mouth away from his, you muttered, “You should have told me you were coming. I’m a complete mess.”

But Tyler shook his head, one hand sliding up your body until it cupped the base of your neck. “No, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” And he kissed you again.

This time it was needier, hungrier, and it reminded you of your kiss the first night you invited him into your room. But if things were headed in that same direction….

“Ty,” you moaned against his lips, your bare toes curling on the concrete as a jolt of pleasure went through your core. “Not here. We can’t do this in the hall.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his green eyes dark and his lips swollen. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I, uh, I let things get away from me for a moment.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him, still amazed he was standing before you even as you still tasted him on your tongue. Grabbing his hand, you cried, “God, I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He smiled back then grabbed his phone and hat off the floor. You chuckled softly as you noticed his call to your phone was still active just before he ended it. 

As he grabbed his things, you quickly reentered your apartment and tried to do a five-second cleaning job: flinging dirty clothes into your bedroom, tossing old take-out boxes into the pantry, stuffing your vibrator deep into the couch cushions. You whirled around just in time to see Tyler walking through the door with his hat and duffle bag in hand.

He looked around the small apartment and let out a whistle. “Nice place. It feels very…you.”

“Thanks, I guess.” You walked over and took his hand. “I can’t believe you’re here! How did you even know where to find me?”

Tyler grinned. “Your brother. He gave me your address before Storm PAR left for the season.”

Your jaw dropped open. “He knew? I talk to that dickhead every day and he didn’t tell me! Oh, the next time I talk to him, he’s getting a fucking earful.”

Tyler laughed as he trailed his knuckles across your jawline. “It’s called a surprise, sweetheart.” But then the light dimmed slightly in his eyes and his tone became slightly more serious. “And I wanted to make sure he thought you’d want to see me. I didn’t want to just show up only to find out you decided it was better to cut all ties with everything that happened, including me.”

You shook your head. “Never. I’ve missed you every fucking day since I left, Tyler Owens, and sometimes, the hope of having this moment was all that kept me going.”

“How’ve you been? I didn’t want to invade your privacy by asking Scott and he never offered any information so…” He shrugged, not knowing how to end the thought.

You hesitated for a moment as you tried to find your own words. “I’m…okay. You were right and I’ve struggled with what happened. They say I have PTSD, but I’ve got a really great therapist and I’m making progress. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m getting through it.”

“That’s my girl,” Tyler whispered. He brushed a stray piece of hair off your face. “I’m just so sorry any of this happened. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I told you before, Ty, I’m only alive because of what you did. So you’re not allowed to blame yourself for anything that happened. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He started to say something else, but it was just off by a large yawn. Suddenly realizing your manners (you didn’t have the same instinctual courtesy as Tyler did apparently), you took his hand and led him to the couch. “Oh god, I’m such a bad host. Do you want anything to eat or drink? I’ve still got a little spaghetti leftover from dinner or we can order something.”

Tyler smiled as he allowed you to drag him across the room. “No thanks, sweetheart. I grabbed something at the airport.”

You stopped. “Wait, you came straight from the airport?”

“Yeah, so?”

“No wonder you seemed tired! Do you want to lay down? Or take a shower or something? And—” Another sobering thought just occurred to you. “A-and how long are you planning on staying?”

Tyler squeezed your hand. “I can leave whenever you want me to but I have about a month before I have to be back to Arkansas. Everything else I can do from here or by talking with the crew.”

“A month?” Your heart fluttered in your chest. “I get you for a whole month?”

“Or until you’re sick of me.”

“Not gonna happen.” You pulled Tyler down for another kiss.

When you parted, Tyler sighed, “Now that you mentioned it though, I do think I’d like to take a shower if that’s alright. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, of course.” You tucked into the other room and grabbed a towel. Then you flipped on the light in the bathroom. “Soaps in the shower and if you need anything else, just call.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He kissed you on the forehead then ducked into the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

When he went to take a shower and wash off all his travel funk, you settled onto the couch. You quickly shot Scott a strongly worded text about him keeping this from you…but then added a thank you at the end for helping Tyler get to you.

Since the shower was still on, you pulled up the Wrangler’s YouTube channel on your iPad to watch a few of the videos you missed. It’s great seeing the whole crew again, but you noticed there was a significant change in their demeanor. They weren’t as energetic or wild as usual, especially Tyler. He was still putting on a show, but you could tell it was forced. 

Surprisingly, seeing the storm didn’t bother you in the slightest. Maybe it was the fact you always felt safe within Tyler’s truck. Or maybe it was because it was just a video and you knew it couldn’t hurt you. Or maybe it was just because Tyler was in the other room and you knew you were safe. But at least that was one goal marked off your therapy list.

As the video began to wind down, you began scrolling for another to click on when you heard Tyler giving his send-off. “As always, if you feel it, chase it! And, sweetheart—” Your eyes grew wide and you quickly scrolled to the top of the screen to see Tyler staring deeply into the camera, as if he were staring into your soul “—if you’re watching this, I love you. And I miss you so damn much.” He blew a kiss to the screen and the video ended. 

Stunned, you stared at the frozen image of the man you loved, his lips still puckered in his kiss for you. Quickly, you clicked on the next video and jumped to the very end. Tyler was saying something about getting a stronger balloon string next time, then he smiled at the camera and added, “Whether you ever see this or not, I love you, sweetheart. I hope you’re doing okay.”

You quickly clicked on the next one and skipped to the end. Tyler stood outside the truck with his hands on his hips, staring up at the now clear blue sky. Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he sighed and choked out, “Goddamn, you would have loved this one, sweetheart. Chases like this just aren’t the same without you next to me. I love you.”

You go through almost every video the Wranglers posted since you left. Even and every one of them ended with some variation of Tyler saying he loved you. With your heart nearly bursting, you played the last video, the one they posted yesterday as their final chase of the season. It showed Tyler grinning into the camera so wide his dimples were on clear display as he said, “I love you, sweetheart, and it’s finally time I chased ya. See you soon, my brave, beautiful girl.”

The iPad tumbled to the floor. All this time you had been so afraid Tyler wouldn’t come that you had avoided his videos. Yet, if you had just trusted him to keep his word, you would have known from day one not to doubt him or his feelings towards you. 

Standing, you stepped over the iPad and walked over to the bathroom. You heard the shower still running but you didn’t even knock before you turned the handle and went in. Tyler was rubbing soap all over his defined chest as you pulled the curtain back. He froze, not seemingly bothered by your intrusion, just confused.

He gave you a moment to explain what was happening, but when you didn’t speak, he asked,  “Hey, is everything okay?”

Without removing your clothes, you stepped into the shower. As water poured over your head, soaking you and weighing down your clothes, you placed your hands on either side of Tyler’s face. 

As he stared at you, concern etched on his face, you whispered, “I love you, too, Ty. And even if we have to do long distance for a while or make some big life decisions moving forward, I’m all in. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Tyler’s face softened and he tilted his face to kiss your palm. Then, he slid his arms around you, drawing you into his bare, soapy chest. Your arms wrapped around him as you rested your cheek against his tattoo while he stroked the nearly identical one on your back. And as he kissed the top of your head, he murmured, “Well, you better get comfortable, sweetheart. Because I’m never letting you go again.”

The two of you stood there embraced in each other’s arms underneath the spray until the water grew cold. And even then, you only separated long enough to strip off your clothes, both dry off, and for you to lead him into the bedroom. There, you lay on the bed facing each other and snuggled tightly together. There would be time for more rigorous and exciting bedroom activities later. Right now, you just savored the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin. 

You had gone to Oklahoma to find your brother. When that went south, you had sought out revenge. But it turned out you found something sweeter—you found the love of your life. 

And now, you intended to spend the rest of your life in his arms. 

Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, and commented throughout this series. Your support and love along the way has kept me motivated and excited to continue this series ��� While the series may be over, I am more than happy to return to this world and its characters with one-shots and headcanons if desired. I pretty much have their entire future planned out in my head 😂 So if anyone is ever missing them, feel free to send me an ask or question about Tyler and Reader's future after the end of this story.

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[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Chapter 3

Three are now dead, but the killer seems to be caught ... but this night is not over until the room is found.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Silver, Cater Diamond

Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery

Content Warning; Death, murder, blood, anxiety, kidnapping, overall dead dove content warnings

Word Count; 1.1 K

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Link to the Google Form to vote!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

The body count had risen to three; Dire Crowley, the Ramshackle Prefect (whose blood still stained the floor, the iron scent permeating the air), and now, Divus Crewel as well, the latest victim. One minute the professor was alive, shaking from anger that one of his students was killed on his watch and that he was the prime suspect of the killings. But now he was sprawled out on the ground, killed in an instant.

The remaining students — Vil, Rook, Azul, Jade, Silver, and Cater — were silent, processing what exactly had just happened. The lights had flickered only for a minute, and in that minute, the killer had struck. But the silence was broken by a deafening clap of thunder, lightning illuminating the windows, and bringing everyone back to the present, to their laughably horrible situation that they had found themselves in by sheer chance and bad luck and timing.

Silver sat down on the staircase, and put his head in between his legs, taking deep breaths. Despite his training, he did not consider that he would be witnessing death so soon. The small part of his brain that had a sliver of hope that his friend had survived their gruesome injury, but he was just lying to himself; no one could survive that.

Vil was pacing, hands clasped behind his back, and he was muttering to himself. He thought he could read people, what with being raised amongst the stars that hid behind too-sweet smiles that belied venomous words. What was there to gain from any of this?

Rook was cracking his knuckles, and then rubbing his eyes, trying to think of why this was happening. While he could appreciate the hunt, this was something entirely different. Yet, it also reminded him of several books; one being a murder mystery, and the other about the deadliest game, of hunting a fellow person.

Azul was shaking and biting his nails, his resolve long gone. Had he made himself the enemy of one of his peers? Was he going to be next? He was supposed to just be perfecting a potion recipe for the next test, yet he found himself way above his head.

Jade looked at Azul, taking in that his house warden and friend was shaking more than the leaves outside in the howling wind. He too was disturbed by the night's events, sick to his stomach even, but he couldn’t show weakness, especially if he wanted to see it through.

And Cater? He was paler than a ghost, a cold sweat glistening on his forehead, and he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his throat. His cheery smile had left long ago, and now panic was fully starting to take control. Why? Why? Whywhywhy? WHY?! Yet he stayed silent.

No one spoke, but they eyed each other with caution. Every time that they had went to the mirror and they voted through it, someone died. Was it the mirror? No… no, that didn’t make sense… None of this made any sense though. 

“No more votin-” Silver whispered.

Cater cracked his head around, green eyes judging every move the underclassman made. “And why’s that, Silver?” His voice was shaky, but Cater wasn’t trusting him or anyone for that matter. “Afraid that-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Vil barked, commanding everyone’s attention, eyes all on him. But he was used to eyes being on him, and he stayed cool, despite how this may damn him into being guilty in their eyes. He didn’t care at the moment though, all he cared about was no one else dying. “Look at what being suspicious of each other has brought us,” his eyes wandered to the dark clotted blood that had now gone cold. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, keeping the calm mask up. “I agree with Silver though; voting through the mirror only ends up with someone… dead.”

“Then how do we proceed, Roi du Poison?” Rook asked, falling to his house warden’s side. His eyes looked over everyone, picking up their behaviours, emotions, and any tells.

Azul’s head snapped up. “The potion-” he started muttering to himself, before clearing his throat and gaining his composure again. “A truth potion, but one that shows the truth about the situation, we can use that to find the killer.”

Cater looked at Silver, and offered him his hand; a peace offering. Silver took it, and brought himself up on wobbly knees. A truce.

Jade placed his hand on Azul’s shoulder, offering him a bit of comfort that not everyone was out to get him. “Was that what you were working on?”

Azul nodded, and he started making his way towards the alchemy lab, where hopefully they could put an end to the killer’s little charade once and for all.

…

…

Vil helped Azul make the potion, and both students kept a keen eye on the other, but they made it without incident. And to show the others that they hadn’t tampered with it at all, they took it first, with the others shortly following suit.

“What about the room?” Silver asked.

“We can figure that out once we find the killer,” Jade countered.

Everyone looked at each other, taking in any minute details, but everyone was calm; the potion apparently did wonders to calm the nerves… but that in itself was a dangerous effect, since now everyone’s guards were down, making them easy targets.

Vil took in a breath and released it. “Who killed Dire Crowley? Why did you then kill the Prefect, and then Professor Crewel?” 

But no one spoke up.

“It isn’t me,” Vil said confidently, hoping that his speaking up prompted the others to follow suit.

Cater was to his left, and he spoke next. “I didn’t do it.”

Then Silver, “Or me… I couldn’t do something like this…”

“I did not do it either,” Jade offered.

Azul’s eyes went wide, and he eyed the next person in line. “The killer isn’t me.”

All eyes fell on the last person left in their little circle; Rook. With all of them but him left, that only left him.

He let out a throaty, quiet, chuckle. “I suppose this game has run its course,” he tipped his hat to them, green eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. “As for why? Hmmm,” he hummed, and the hairs on everyone’s necks stood on end. There was something off about Rook, this wasn’t Rook. 

“You’ll find that out when you guess the room.”

What?

Everyone took a step closer to each other, away from Rook, and they whispered amongst each other, voting on what room Crowley’s murder took place in.

“Alchemy lab,” Cater spoke for the group, trying to keep his resolve as Rook seemed to stare into the very contents of his soul, like he was searching for something.

Rook stepped forward, still smiling. “Ah, désolé Monsieur Magicam,” the whites of his eyes started turning black, “but you would be wrong.” The lights flickered again, and in the seconds of darkness, Rook was gone, and so was Cater.

GOOGLE FORM (voting will end Wednesday, October 18th at 9pm EST)

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) MURDERER - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach) MISSING

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab (eliminated in Chapter 3) - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

…

To be continued

[goodlucktai]

now the darkness comes alive

rise of the tmnt movie canon divergence word count: 10k characters: raph & leo

welcome to a very self-indulgent roleswap au that i started dreaming up in my friend’s turtle discord. big thank you to rem for the song rec that gave me the insp to finish (and name!) the fic, and also to lake, sara and meeks for enabling my insane behavior <3

oh, now the darkness comes alive it comes for me and i come for you

—brother, the rural alberta advantage

read on ao3

x

The Krang’s spike pierces through plastron and flesh with a sickening crunch and Leo makes an awful punched-out sound. Raph is seconds too slow, and seconds is all it takes for his entire world to end. 

For the past two years, they’ve been at constant odds, Leo going out of his way to undermine and annoy him. Every interaction was laced with frustration, hurt, worry, confusion. Why are you being like this? Raph wanted to ask, wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake until an answer came out. What did I do to you?

It was a miserable way to live. Being angry at someone you love more than anything, having nowhere to put it down, forced to hold onto it and hold onto it and hold onto it. Every day another argument, every night laying awake and hoping that tomorrow would be different. 

He missed Leo. He missed how they used to be. He didn’t know why Pops’ announcement had turned them against each other. He hadn’t thought anything would be able to do that. 

Once or twice Raph had a moment of weakness and imagined what it would be like if he just quit. If he went to Splinter and told him he was done. Let someone else be the oldest, the biggest, the one who carried everyone else. But that thought was always followed instantly by another, louder one—how small would he feel if he didn’t have little turtles climbing on his back and sitting on his shoulders? How empty would his arms be if he didn’t have anyone to carry in them? 

That’s the whole point. That’s why he’s so afraid. That’s why being left alone drives him straight past anxious and into a blackout. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. 

And now he’s living his worst nightmare. He’s living outside his own body, watching from somewhere else. It doesn’t feel real. 

His little brother, his little Leo, crumpled beneath him, blood staining bright blue an ugly rust color. His chest is heaving as if each breath hurts and his eyes are wide and wet. He’s gazing up at Raph like they’re children again. It’s the way he looked when he was afraid of a thunderstorm or he was about to get in trouble and he needed Raph to make it better. He always looked at Raph first. 

The monsters behind them are laughing. One of them starts talking, the sound coming closer at a leisurely pace. They aren’t safe. Leo is bleeding. Raph is afraid to touch him, shaking hands hovering over his cracked plastron. He doesn’t know what to do. His mind is white with panic. 

He has the escape pod in his hand, not yet activated. He doesn’t know if it’s safe to use it. Leo is skewered to the ground, pinned like a butterfly to corkboard. Donnie’s tech is highly intuitive, all of it programmed into S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s AI infrastructure, and maybe the pod would know to account for the particulars of the situation, but there almost definitely isn’t a way to remove Leo safely in the seconds they don’t really have to work with. 

Leo blinks, and the wetness in his eyes spills out, and Raph just wants to pick him up. Carry him somewhere safe. Leo has always been larger than life, but right now he looks impossibly small. 

“Hey, hey,” Raphael soothes, the same way he has a thousand times before, after bad dreams and skinned knees, “you’re okay. Raph’s here, you’re okay.”

Those gold eyes slide to the side, looking at a point behind Raph. Leo’s arm moves, and something cold and solid presses against Raph’s chest. It’s the key, and Leo’s hand is trembling so hard that Raph’s closes around it instinctively, taking the weight of it from him. 

Because he’s Leo, the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile. 

“I told you,” he says hoarsely. It somehow manages to sound wry, like they’re in on a joke together. “I got it.”

Then he uses the hand that Raph isn’t holding to activate the escape pod lingering between them and pushes it those scant few fatal inches forward. Raph doesn’t realize what the beep means until the pod unfolds in front of him and yanks him unceremoniously away from his brother.

“No,” Raph says, light-headed with fear, “no!” 

But a machine couldn’t possibly understand the wrong it was doing. What it was leaving behind. Raph pummels the inside of the pod hysterically but without his ninpo he can’t do enough to damage something Donnie built specifically to safeguard their family. It lifts him up and away and Leo’s crooked little smile gets smaller and smaller until it’s gone.  

——

When the pod touches down in the lair and releases him, the world around Raph is strangely muffled. There’s a ringing in his ears. He thinks he can hear voices but it’s all just noise. Nothing fully clears the chaos in his own head. 

Donatello is directly in front of him, and his hands are white-knuckled on the side of an empty blue pod. He looks like he already knows something went very wrong. His eyes are bright gold, a mirror of his twin’s, and the quiet fear in them places Raph directly back inside the warehouse, surrounded by monsters, too late to protect anyone, Leo’s blood on his hands, Leo looking up at him— 

Raph’s stomach lurches and he turns sharply away. His gaze lands on Casey Jones instead, who appraises him warily in turn, slim shoulders going stiff beneath the battered Genius Built armor. 

“Leo went back for the key,” Raph says, his voice a deep growling thing that cuts through the noise and brings down a curtain of stillness. He holds the stupid thing out, and if it were made of anything less than strange alien stone, his grip would have crushed it into pieces. Casey’s eyes drop to it and brighten, like it’s a good thing that it’s here even though Leo’s not. Relief floods every inch of his face until he looks even younger than he did already. 

“He got it,” the boy says reverently, taking it in both hands. “I knew he would.”

Raphael wants to scream. He wants to step back and let some other version of himself take the reins while he finds a hole to cry in. He doesn’t want to turn at his father’s firm call of his name or force himself to lift his chin until Splinter can meet his eyes and find all the miserable failure festering inside him, but he does. 

April is looking around and behind Raph, her eyes jumping to the red pod still standing open and then back again, as if finally noticing that Leo wasn’t tucked in there, too. As if it is only just occurring to her that there is a universe that exists where Raphael leaves Leonardo behind, and it’s this one, and it’s horrible. 

Donnie might as well be carved from stone, but Mikey is starting to get worked up, looking between everyone else with huge red eyes, trying to hear the thing they’re all not saying.

“He went back for the key,” Raphael says again, choking the words out. “I couldn’t—I wasn’t fast enough to—”

He clenches his fists and it drags his siblings’ attention to the blood on them. April covers her mouth and Mikey takes in a breath so sharp it must cut and Donnie starts to flap his hands. Splinter closes his eyes, looking as though he’s aged about a hundred years in the last few minutes. 

“What? That’s not possible,” Casey interjects as if he can’t help it. The young soldier glances around the room, like Leo is going to pop up from behind the turnstiles and rib them all for being so gullible. “Master Leonardo is the greatest ninja the world has ever seen, he wouldn’t just—”

“He’s not master anything!” Raph only barely manages not to roar. “He’s a sixteen-year-old kid!”

Casey flinches away from his anger and Raphael brutally wrestles it into submission. It’s not doing any good here. Casey is a kid, too. 

“Raph,” Mikey blurts, too loud and too fast, “is Leo dead?”

The word sucks the air out of the room and Donnie makes a noise like he’s been kicked in the stomach and Raph says, “No. No, Angie, he’s alive.” 

Even though their ninpo is locked away, and with it that subconscious knowledge of each other always lingering comfortably in the back of their minds like a warm afterthought, Raph knows they would know if Leo was gone. They would be able to tell. The world would be fundamentally changed, nothing would ever be the same again. 

He puts his hands on Mikey’s shoulders and adds, “We’re gonna bring him home.” 

The plan isn’t much of one, but their resident schemer is very much not present, and no one questions Raph when he lays it out. Donnie robotically admits that he has the means to track Leo, so the turtles and Future Boy are going to head that way and retrieve him, while Splinter and April babysit the key. 

“Use the shell hogs and just keep moving for now,” Raph says. “They have something we want, we have something they want.”

April nods, grimly understanding. If the only Hail Mary shot they have of getting their brother back is handing over the key and finding an opening to steal it back later, that’s just what they’ll have to do. 

Pops abandoned the Hamato Clan’s teachings in the first place because he didn’t agree with their preachings of self-sacrifice and martyrdom. He handed over the final piece of the dark armor without flinching when his sons’ lives hung in the balance. Even if the rest of their ancestors wouldn’t understand, Raphael does. 

He remembers the jar of oozesquitos he held onto once, trying—and failing—to call Draxum’s bluff. He may be a slow learner, but he only needs to be taught the lesson once. 

Leo risked his life to return this key to his family, so Raph is going to fight for it like an insane person for as long as it makes sense to. But if it comes down to abandoning one to save the other…

He’s his father’s son. He knows which choice he’ll make. 

——

In the Turtle Tank, Mikey and Donnie distract themselves on the trip to Metro Tower station by peppering Casey with questions about the future. The human answers readily, describing Master Donatello’s technological genius—holding out his arms so the entirety of his battered, cyberpunk-style kit is on display—and going on at length about Master Michelangelo’s mystic prowess. 

“I could fly?” Mikey squeaks, drumming his hands on the dash rapidly. “Was it cool?” 

“The coolest,” Casey is quick to agree. “And you opened a portal that sent me through time.”

But the warmth in Casey’s eyes doesn’t last very long, fading into something that looks uncomfortably like grief instead. He tends to look at all of them like that, like he’s in a room full of ghosts. 

He darts a sidelong glance in Raph’s direction and quickly faces forward again, staring out the windshield from Leo’s seat. He’s avoided speaking to him as much as possible, and Raphael can, unfortunately, put two and two together. 

Casey is familiar with everyone else—even April and Splinter—but he dances around Raph as if he’s a stranger. He didn’t know Raph in the future, he knew of him—someone to be respectful of and fall in line for, but certainly not one of the uncles he could brag about to their younger selves. 

When the Tank has gone as far through the tunnels as possible, drawn to a stop at a massive tangle of alien vines, they get out and continue on foot. Raph can feel his little brothers walking as close to him as they can without outright admitting that they’re unnerved, all of their guards completely up, senses dialed to eleven. 

The underground is home to them, always has been, and generally speaking if you’ve seen one subway tunnel you’ve seen them all. But the floodlights from Donnie’s battleshell illuminate a scene that looks like it belongs on another planet. Impossible masses of pink-purple mess dangle everywhere like Halloween store decorations, and the subway cars have been upended off the rails and twisted out of shape. 

Casey’s mask is down, the lenses glowing green as he prowls forward without missing a beat. If he came here from a future where the Krang won, Raph can only imagine what the New York City he grew up in looked like. 

“I hate to be painfully obvious, but since my other half isn’t present, I suppose it falls on my shoulders,” Donatello says after a moment, the sardonic tone of voice at odds with his very low register. “Something feels off.” 

He’s barely got the words out when hundreds of little lights blink at them from the jungle of purple vines—not lights, glowing eyes. The silent tunnel explodes into chaos a second later as they’re ambushed by parasite-controlled people and creatures and even objects. 

Raph and Casey are neatly separated from Donnie and Mikey within a manner of minutes. Raph’s heart is in his throat as he pummels through wave after wave of the infected, and it doesn’t settle until he hears on the comms that his little brothers have taken shelter in the Tank. 

He and Casey are pushed farther and farther away, chased down one of the tunnels by an animated subway car on what looks like spidery crab legs, towards a dead end. When Raphael feels the ground start to give beneath them, he acts on seventeen years of big brother instinct and very little else, seizing Casey around the middle and curling around him completely as they fall. 

It’s a dizzying, topsy-turvy couple of minutes, falling from the subway tracks into a maintenance tunnel underneath, and it takes awhile for his ears to stop ringing. He glances down at the human in his arms and notes with relief that Casey seems to be okay–tucked up small and compact against Raph’s plastron, all limbs accounted for, in such a practiced way that Raph thinks he’s been protected in exactly this manner more than once before. 

Neither of them speak right away, coming down from the rush of adrenaline and waiting for the shifting of crumbled concrete to stop and the dust to clear. Raph’s shell was made of sturdy stuff even before he became a chaotic alchemists’s bioengineering experiment, so when he’s certain they’re relatively safe, he pushes off the ground with his hands and lets the debris roll harmlessly off his back and shoulders. 

“Are you hurt?” Raph asks, sitting back to give Casey room to collect himself. 

“Um, no,” Casey says, tugging his cape down from where it had caught around one of his pauldrons. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but more like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself now that it’s just the two of them, looking up at Raph and then away again. 

Raph can’t help it. He says, “I died, didn’t I? In the future.”

Casey jerks, as if he was surprised to be asked so plainly. Then his shoulders hunch, and he nods. 

“You all did,” he says haltingly. “Uncle Tello when I was thirteen, and sensei and Uncle Angie just… just before I got sent back.” 

Cold dread slams into Raph’s stomach. He doesn’t want to believe he and his siblings could ever truly be divided, but the proof is sitting in front of him. It’s hard to hear that the end of the world managed to take Raph from his little siblings. Donnie from his twin. That Leo and Mikey were left all alone, with a kid to take care of, and a losing war to fight. 

Casey swallows hard, and curls his hands into fists, visibly forcing himself past the loss that probably sits in his stomach and throat like barbed wire. 

“But you—it happened when I was little. I wasn’t really old enough to remember you.” Each word mincing and careful, he goes on, “Growing up, sensei talked about you all the time. He used to say you were the best—best brother, best leader. And he was so afraid when Master Splinter put him in charge, because he had no idea how to be as good as you. He didn’t want things to change, he was happy being your right-hand man. Sensei made it sound like he was really childish about the whole thing. He said he must have been a real disappointment.”

Raphael absorbs the words like a blow. 

Leo, his little brother, his little star, outshining everyone and pulling the world into his orbit, earnestly giving them the light and warmth they needed to live and grow and flourish, a disappointment?

Raph has been angry with him more times than he can count. Hurt by him, even, because that’s what people tend to do when they don’t understand each other. Frustrated and antagonized and fed-up, sure. But disappointed?

He has a shining, crystalized memory of being a child, no more than eight years old, crying over a picture book because the monster in the book looked like him. It was big and hulking, with dangerous-looking spikes and an alligator tail. Raph hadn’t realized Leo had found him until tiny hands took the book away and a serious little face, not yet grown into its stripes, assessed the situation. 

Even back then, Leo was too clever for his own good. He tossed the book on the floor and said, “They got it wrong. That author must not have ever seen any real monsters if they can mess up that bad. Who let them write a book?”

Raph was hardly able to see through his tears, making a distressed rumble in his chest, but his arms opened automatically. Mikey was in a phase where he had decided he was too big to be carried and Donnie had a hot-and-cold relationship with touch that his siblings all knew to maneuver carefully, but Leo absorbed any and all affection like a hungry little plant soaking up sunlight. He climbed right into Raph’s hug and his arms looped around Raph’s neck and hung on fiercely. 

“My Raphie is a better hero than all those knights and princes and wizards anyway,” Leo had said with conviction so huge it was better suited to someone five times his size. “I have the real deal. I should be the one writing books!”

From then on, Leo vetted any and all shared reading material that made it down to the lair before allowing it to be distributed with a very grown-up gravitas. Some things went straight to Donnie or Mikey’s rooms, or back into the garbage if Leo was feeling vicious about it that day, and no one ever said a word about it. 

About three months ago, April had brought them a bundle of the subscriptions they got mailed to her apartment, and Leo picked up a comic that came for Raph and started to flip through it like they were seven and eight years old again. He caught himself too late and looked embarrassed, sliding it across the counter and quickly making his escape, but Raph felt warm all the way down to his bones. That was proof his Leo was still in there, that he still cared, despite doing his best, for some reason, to convince everyone he didn’t. 

His Leo, who always cared. Who cared too much. 

Casey gives Raph another one of those searching, sideways glances, there and gone again. 

“Sensei said he let you down once and he never wanted to do that again. He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud. Is—is this what he was talking about?”

Raph looks at the boy in front of him, Leo’s kid from a future that doesn’t exist yet, wearing tech his Uncle Tello must have meticulously built to outlast everything else, Uncle Angie’s smiley faces etched into the knee guards in a pop of silliness that somehow still existed in the apocalypse, his sensei’s red stripes painted proudly front and center on his mask. He carries his family with him with every step he takes.

It’s no wonder Casey is so cagey around him. If he was raised even in part by Leo, then he was probably raised on stories of Raph that only painted the good and the funny parts of the bad, because that’s how Leo loves. And it left Casey to reconcile how everyone’s hero Raphael could have ever thought poorly of Casey’s hero Leonardo. 

“Sounds like that sensei of yours had no clue what he was talking about half the time,” Raph say gruffly. “Raph may wanna pick up him and rattle him like a snowglobe about a hundred times a day but that’s just the Leo Effect. Ask anybody.” 

Casey blinks up at him, one corner of his mouth giving into a reluctant smile. “Commander O’Neil said that before,” he admits. 

“Now her you can listen to any time of day or night, because she’s never wrong,” Raph says, pushing himself upright and offering Casey a hand up, too. “Leo could never do anything to make me love him less. It kind of seems impossible after a lifetime together, but I actually only keep finding reasons to love him more.”

Sliding his much smaller hand into Raph’s huge one, Casey lets himself be tugged to his feet. He’s gazing up at Raph with wide eyes, tugging on the wrist of one glove absently. 

“Leo is as silly as they come,” Raph says. “He needs practical people like you and me in his life to set him straight.”

All at once, Casey’s face brightens, glowing from the inside out. His spine straightens, shoulders going back. It’s every inch Leo’s expression when he receives honest praise from his family in any direction. And Raph realizes abruptly that at least part of the reason Casey has been so nervous around him is because he doesn’t want to disappoint his father’s hero, either. 

——

They find a maintenance shaft and climb the rest of the way out of the tunnels, regrouping with the whole clan in the Metro Tower station. Donnie brings Leo’s location up on a screen and they all huddle around him—falling silent after a moment as they take in what the tracker is telling them. 

“He’s right—right on top of us,” Donnie says haltingly. “He should be—”

April seizes his arm and he cuts himself off mid-word. With a sense of dread, Raph follows her wide eyes across the room. 

Leo is standing there, watching them. He’s been standing there the whole time. Unmoving, completely silent, and covered in the same squishy, fleshy pink parasitic slime that every other infected they’ve encountered up until now has been manipulated by. There’s a mass of it concealing the lower half of his face like one of the respirators Mikey wears for his spray paint projects, baring dozens of large serrated teeth in a sneer. 

Leo’s eyes are pink, the pupils slitted. If Raph couldn’t see him breathing, he wouldn’t know for sure if he was even alive. 

“Leo?” Mikey calls out in a warbling voice, hands trembling. “Can you hear us?” 

It doesn’t get a reaction. 

Raph takes one slow, careful step towards him.

That gets a reaction. 

Leo explodes into motion so quickly it doesn’t make sense, going from zero to a hundred in seconds. He slams into Raphael with the force of a freight train, sparks flying from where his blades meet the sai Raph only barely manages to throw up in time. 

Their siblings scatter, Donnie yanking Mikey firmly behind him, April putting out an arm to keep Casey back, too. Splinter dives in to help his oldest son, the two of them fighting to subdue but not to injure, hyper-aware of the cracks in Leo’s plastron and the matching wound on his shoulder. The last thing Leo’s father and big brother want to do is hurt him any more. 

Leo doesn’t give them an inch of the same consideration, as cold and methodical as a knife. His swords are fully in action, a very present danger to the rest of them, singing and sweeping with fatal precision. 

They’re only fighting for minutes, even though it feels like hours, when Raphael feels it. An insistent tugging on the front of his mind. He and Leo are locked together, swords caught for a moment in the guards of Raph’s sai, and Raph spares a daring second to look into his possessed brother’s pink eyes. 

They glow white instantly, a successful connection. Leo’s mind pours into Raph’s like a flood. 

Take them take them TAKE THEM TAKE THEM TAKE THEM 

As if moving on autopilot, Raph’s hands fly to Leo’s wrists and wrench—not hard enough to sprain, but hard enough that the slider’s grip flies open and the katana clatter to the ground. Leo rips himself free and darts back to give himself room for the next attack. He makes no move to recover the swords and Raph scoops them up a second later, heart pounding. 

It was so quick, so clean, that no one watching from the outside would be able to guess what had just happened. Leo surrendered his weapons to his family in the only way he possibly could, begging with his whole body to be disarmed before he hurt anyone, so desperate for Raph to hear him that he triggered a mind meld for the first time in two years.  

The room comes alive, infected creatures spilling inside and surrounding them all, punching up through the floor from the tunnels they had just escaped from. A subway car covered in pink slime rears back and roars like a beast. Leo moves through the crowd of Hamato like water. The only one he touches is April, a brush of their shoulders together.

She makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat, hand flying to her bag where the key is. Where it was.  

Leo has it in his hand, facing them with unseeing eyes. The grotesque, fleshy mask covering his mouth twists into a stranger’s ugly smile. 

Raph thinks, No wait. It’s not supposed to happen like this. 

They’re not supposed to lose. 

April uses her bat to knock the rest of the deforestation chemicals toward the Krang, causing an explosion that stalls the hoard of infected just long enough to create an escape route. Donnie scoops Mikey’s shell into his arms and Splinter has to tuck a hand around both Casey and Raphael’s elbows and yank to get them moving. Casey doesn’t make it easy.

He must know a losing fight when he sees one. He must be familiar with this scene from the world he came here from. But he struggles anyway, eyes locked without blinking on the shape of a Leo they’re leaving behind. 

Raph wants to struggle, too. He wants to stay behind and fight until he can’t lift his arms or stay on his feet. He wants his lost little brother to know someone’s fighting for him, that someone will keep fighting for him for as long as it takes. 

But responsibility perches heavy on his shoulders. More than one person is depending on him. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done to let himself be pulled one step away, then another. It hurts more than every single other thing he’s survived. 

“Raph’s coming back for you,” he calls out, voice thick, swords weighing a hundred pounds each in his hands. “Hear me, Leo? Raph’s coming back.”

Leo doesn’t give any impression that he heard. He turns at some silent command and walks away, taking the key with him. The Krang got what they came for. 

——

Kneeling on a rooftop, watching the Technodrome come through a hole in the sky and rain destruction down on their city, Raph finds himself thinking I wish Leo was here. 

It’s a stupid thought to have, because Leo being there would solve a very large part of the whole problem. But specifically, Raph finds himself wishing he had his clever, charming brother at his side, who always knew what to say. Who always had an idea. Who understood exactly how to reach out to people and lift their spirits, rekindle their hope. Leo isn’t the strongest of his brothers, or the fastest without his ninpo, or the smartest next to Donatello, but that doesn’t mean he can’t outshine the rest of them in his own way. 

He’s always been the one they followed, really. It just so happened he was always going the same way Raph was. 

“He was happy being your right-hand man,” Casey said. 

How could Raph have misunderstood him so completely? How could he have just left him behind, twice now? What if it becomes a pattern? What if Leo thinks this is all he can expect from them? 

Raph’s family is arguing behind him, unwilling to accept their failure but unable to see any path ahead to victory. It certainly looks hopeless. New York City is burning, people are screaming, parasites and infected are filling the streets by the dozens. 

A familiar hand lands on his arm. Raph feels like he’s wading chest-deep through mud, but he manages to turn his head and look down into Mikey’s big red eyes. 

“What did Leo say earlier?” Mikey asks in a small voice. “I sort of felt it when you connected but I couldn’t hear either of you.”

“It was like being aware of people talking in another room,” Donnie adds, leaning into Raph from the opposite side. “You can just make out the cadence of their conversation but no words come through clearly.”

Raph looks down at his hands, the katana he’s still holding. He rubs his thumb over the guard on one, remembering Leo’s glowing pride the first time he manifested them. He felt so buoyed by Leo’s smile in that moment that he could have fought the Shredder a hundred times over and won. 

I miss you, he thinks. I miss having you on my team. 

“He wanted me to take these,” Raph says. “He was really scared of what he might do with them.”

Donnie’s golden eyes are very sharp, staring without blinking at the only proof of his twin with them here on the outskirts of the apocalypse. Behind the turtles, Splinter and April are still going back and forth with each other, but Casey’s voice has tapered into silence. 

“What else did he tell you?” Donnie asks abruptly. 

“Nothing,” Raph replies, numb.

“C’mon, Raphie,” Mikey says, mustering a sweet smile for him, even though smiling is probably the last thing in the world he feels like doing. “Our Leo? Keeping it brief? I’ll bet he had a hundred things he was trying to say.”

“Let us in,” Donnie says, pressing his head a little harder into Raph’s arm. Dogged and determined, fully ready to dig in with his teeth and not let up until he gets his way. “Let us see.”

Raphael is exhausted, and hurting, and missing the absent piece of their whole so keenly that he could lay down right here and cry for days. But the one thing he’s never been able to do is deny his little brothers anything they care enough about to ask for this earnestly. 

“Okay,” he says and sets Leo’s swords in front of him carefully. With his hands open, Donnie and Mikey each seize one in both of their own, and Raph tries to center himself. 

The first time Raph and Leo did this, it was well before they had fully realized their ninpo. He doesn’t need the mystic powers they’ve come to rely so much on to recognize the brilliant purple lightning and laughing orange bonfire on the fringes of his mind and let them both in. 

The lightning and the bonfire both skirt familiarly over the steadfast red mountain that makes up their eldest brother, at home together. They all feel the painful absence of a mischievous blue wind so strongly that it takes their collective breath away. 

The mountain guides them to the things the wind had given him. Above everything else, fear—of what’s happened and what hasn’t happened yet, fear of the parasite wriggling inside him, fear of his own two hands, fear of failing his family even more than he already has—

Stop, the bonfire says, burning warm and bright. Focus. 

The lightning strikes forward, knowing the wind better than the rest of them from a lifetime of sharing the same sky. It follows the wind’s twists and turns unerringly, illuminating the way in thunderclaps until it’s possible to break past the dark storm of fear entirely.

Behind it there are a hundred other things. Stubbornness and bitterness, a familiar grit that comes from being on the losing side and refusing to give up anyway. Anxiety that his efforts won’t be enough. Love, as deep and rich and unknowable as an ocean. Regret. Loneliness. Hope. 

Take them, the wind had said in the fleeting seconds it had to say anything at all, shoving as many secrets forward as it could. Take this and this and this and this. 

Leon, you devious little creature, the lightning says, with scorching pride and mean-spirited glee. 

It goes both ways, the bonfire cackles. The Krang can see into Lee’s head, but Lee can see into the Krang’s head, too!

This is it, the mountain realizes. This is how we win.  

——

Galvanized, the Hamatos split up one more time. Casey, April and Splinter to get the key back and keep the Krang occupied, and Raph, Mikey and Donnie to save Leo. 

Once Raph and his brothers are inside the Technodrome, they all understand exactly where to go. Everything the Krang knows about how to operate his ship, Leo knows, through that unwanted window between their minds. And everything Leo knows, he shunted as hard and fast as he could into Raph’s brain, hidden in a tangle of emotion so thick that it went entirely undetected by the parasite riding along. And since Raph shared the knowledge with the other two, Donatello could probably pilot this weird spacecraft blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.   

Mikey is swinging one of his ‘chucks restlessly, ready for whatever fight comes his way first. He’s already a force to be reckoned with on a good day. He’s a walking natural disaster on a bad one, up there with hurricanes and tornadoes. 

And this is definitely a bad one. It’s the worst day they’ve ever had. 

“Dee’s got the ship and I’ve got Dee,” Mikey says firmly, sounding much older than he did this time yesterday. “You get Leo.”

Raphael moves with ninja stealth and speed, picking his way through the halls. It smells awful, like raw meat left out in the sun, and in the gloom it almost seems as though the walls and floors are squirming. 

From what Leo gave him, Raph knows better than to hope he and his siblings can go undetected for very long. The ship is almost a living organism itself, and can probably feel each step of progress Raph is making toward the bridge. 

It doesn’t slow him down. Every second Leo spends here is a second too long already. 

The maze-like halls open up into a cavernous dome, where a catwalk stretches toward a huge bulbous window. Outside, Raph can see a panoramic view of Manhattan engulfed in fire. It looks like a warzone. The air leaves his lungs in a rush. 

It’s Raph’s city, the place that raised him, and for the first time in his life it’s hard to look at. 

His hindbrain pings to awareness a split-second before he hears the movement of metal against metal, and Raph spins around to look up at General Krang. 

He’s seated in a throne on a dias, a smug, toothy smile on his face. Leo is standing like a statue at his feet, this tiny slip of green and pink and muddied blue. His discolored eyes gaze listlessly forward into nothing. 

Little Leo, who always wanted to be carried. Little Leo, who hunted down each and every opportunity to make his brothers laugh. Little Leo, who wanted so badly to be even just half as important to them as they were to him. Little Leo, who Raph wouldn’t know how to begin to live without. 

“You again,” the Krang says. “Nothing smart to say? This one wouldn’t shut up until I improved him. And here I thought it was just an unfortunate hallmark of your species.”

Raphael sees red at the way the wicked metallic fingertips of the Krang’s armor cage Leo’s head and jostle it carelessly, like he’s nothing but a cheap toy. Raph bares his teeth, a furious rumble in his chest, but doesn’t dare to say a single hateful word while Leo’s life is literally held in the Krang’s hand. 

“You probably would have made a much more impressive puppet, with all that brute strength,” the Krang goes on. “Oh well. All in due time.”

The alien must give a nonverbal order, because he retracts his hand and Leo springs forward. 

He doesn’t have his swords anymore, since they’re strapped to Raph’s shell for the time being, but the pink slime has trailed down his arms and tapered into two sharp points that he wields like knives instead. 

They meet in a ringing clash, Raph catching the pink knives with his sai. 

“I know you’re in there,” Raph says. “I know you don’t want to hurt me. It’s okay, Leo. I’m gonna make it okay.” 

The way Leo fights is vicious. He’s fast and he knows where to hit. There’s no joy in his body, no cocky gleam in his eye. Raph can’t help bu remember the way his mind felt when they connected so briefly earlier—the surround-sound of wailing panic and self-hatred, confined behind a stranger’s cold expression. 

Bearing down on his little brother, forcing him to his knees, Raph chokes out, “I’m not leavin’ you behind this time. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you ever again.”

“Empty promises seem to run in your family,” the Krang sneers. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” Raph says through gritted teeth. “Don’t listen to him. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t I? Let’s ask the others, shall we?”

Black vines shoot up from the organic mass that makes up the floor of the bridge. Donnie and Mikey are suspended inside them, fighting like animals—Mikey in particular is using language that there is no way Splinter knows he knows. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice vermin slinking around in my ship?” the General asks. “Is this really the best the three of you can do?”

Leo is scratching and clawing at Raph’s hands, trying to break free of him at any cost. Raph is much bigger and much stronger than he is, and it hurts to hold him down like this, but he knows it would be so much worse to let him go. 

“This whole time, we just weren’t listening to each other,” Raph says, lowering his voice. Everyone else can probably still hear, but he wants Leo to know Raph is talking to him. “Somehow, I convinced myself you didn’t care, when I know better. You care so much it makes the inside of your head a nightmare to live in. The only thing you think about is being good enough for us.”

Leo finally manages to twist free, Raph releasing his arms at the last second when it becomes clear the parasite doesn’t care if its host’s elbow or shoulder gets dislocated. Leo rolls away and comes up on one knee, hand braced beneath him, the other white-knuckled around a knife. 

He can hear the Krang becoming agitated, because Mikey and Donnie refuse to be still. The vines holding them snap and give one after another, faster than they can be replaced. There’s something stirring inside of Raph, too, a fire in his chest that wants to roar to life. 

Leo strikes again. Despite everything, even with all the horrors they’re surrounded by, Raphael wants to smile. 

When they started training together, Leo was the first of the four of them to perfect a technique. Raph lifted him up onto his shoulders in victory and let him crow about it for the better part of an hour, flushed with joy and pride. Since then, Leo has never once landed that particular move wrong. 

An outsider wouldn’t clock that he placed his hand nearly four inches too far to the left, but Raphael knows those four inches made a fatal difference between a bad puncture wound and a severed artery. 

Leo has no true autonomy left but there’s a sliver of him awake behind the wheel. He’s still fighting tooth and nail in there. 

There isn’t any force in the entire goddamn universe prepared for how tricky and stubborn Raph’s little brothers can be. 

“I’m listening now, Leo,” Raph says, alight with how much he loves him. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’ll never, ever be alone.”

Leo strains forward, dropping the knife and grabbing at Raph’s arm instead. Between one blink and the next, his eyes go from pink to shining gold. 

Raph seizes him, holding his face in the cradle of both hands, his heart soaring around in his chest like a bird. 

“Yes! That’s it! Come on back, big man, Raphie’s got you!”

With a slam, Leo goes to his knees, scrabbling desperately at the fleshy mass on his face. His fingers dig into the slime, but he can’t get a solid enough grasp to tear himself free. His chest is heaving, whole body shaking. He’s fighting so hard but it’s not quite enough. 

And Raph’s ninpo reacts to a sibling in distress the way it did when Raph used it for the first time, breaking past the Krang’s seal like it’s nothing. It surges forward in the shape of a river, finding the familiar place inside of Leo where his connection to their ancestors lives, and making a temporary home there. Raph’s armor limns his brother in rosy red, swelling from underneath his skin in a powerful flood and pushing the parasite out. It loses every inch it had to cling to while Leo continues to pull. 

Finally the worm is ripped completely away, shrieking as it goes, and Leo gasps. He drops the squirming creature and scuttles away from it, gulping in unobstructed air. The corner of his mouth is torn deep and bleeding sluggishly, and his face looks pale and hollow. 

But his eyes are the color they’re supposed to be, and they’re looking right at Raph and seeing him, a connection as meaningful and important as any mind meld.

Because he’s Leo, the first thing he says is, in a croaky, exhausted voice, “Do you have a sword I can borrow?”

Raph barks out a laugh, tears in his eyes. Earlier today he had reached a point where he thought he’d never smile again.

In this moment, he feels like he could hold up the whole sky and grin while he’s doing it. 

Purple and orange spark madly all around them, a lightning storm and a forest fire ready to rain merry hell upon any unfortunate soul in their path, just enough to keep the General busy while Leo finds his footing. 

Raph wants to scoop them all into his arms and carry them someplace safe from all of this, but he knows he can’t. That place doesn’t exist yet. They have to fight for it. 

Leo breathes in deep and lets it go, takes the swords that Raph passes him in hands that don’t shake, and reaches out for his brothers’ light with a light of his own. 

A gale rushes down from the mountain, leading the charge.

“Hey, ugly,” Leo calls out hoarsely, pointing a blade at the Krang. “I’ve been dying to tell you this all day. The decor in here fucking sucks.”

“Oh my god,” Raph says, half despair, half delight. 

Landing beside him, twirling a glowing bo, Donnie stands shoulder to shoulder with his twin and says, “I would cite you ‘time and place’, Nardo, but honestly you have a point.”

“No because it’s so distracting,” Mikey pipes up, dropping weightlessly into a crouch on Raph’s carapace, narrowed eyes glinting in the dim light like a smug cat’s. “Presentation matters! Zero out of ten, would not be held hostage here again.”

“At least it matches the Six Flags Fright Fest he's got going on upstairs.” Leo indicates his own temple with the hilt of one sword. “There’s something to be said for consistency, am I right?”

It’s as much of a hint as it needs to be. The Krang isn’t stupid, which is a big part of the reason why he’s been such a difficult opponent. He understands within the space of a few seconds what Leonardo is saying—what it means for him to have any idea what the Krang’s headspace looks like. This whole time, there has been a subtle, calculative undermining at play right under his nose. 

He clenches those claws into fists that have enough power to bring down skyscrapers. 

“You really don’t know,” the Krang intones ominously, “when to shut your mouth.”

“Says you and everybody else I know,” Leo replies, unflinching and fearless. “Get some new material.”

Raphael gets it now. Maybe he always has. He understands what Splinter was thinking when he looked at Leo, still growing up but ready at sixteen for the beginning of something greater, and decided he should be the one to lead. 

His brothers would follow him anywhere. Raph would walk straight into hell without looking back if that’s where Leo decided to go. 

——

It’s an instant relief to have those singing silver blades back on their side. Leo’s portals open and close with dizzying speed, moving his brothers like chess pieces around a board, somehow keeping track of it all. For a moment, it’s easy to think they might win. 

And then the Krang blows them all away with the flick of his finger. 

Raph thought his world had ended when he was too late to save his brother in the warehouse. Then he realized the world was actually ending in slow stages all around him when he had to leave his brother behind again at the mercy of a monster. 

It turns out the end of the world happens here. On the quiet, abandoned expanse of Staten Island, listening to his little brother’s wrecked voice over the comms say, “Casey, get ready to close the door.”

“I’m ready, sensei!” Casey reports, prompt and reliable. “Tell me when you’re home free!”

There is a split-second of hesitation from Leo—the barest pause, practically nothing—that sends Raph’s heart straight into his throat. Donatello jerks all the way upright from where he was nursing what’s almost definitely a broken wrist, and Mikey goes dangerously still. They heard it, too. 

“Yeah,” Leo says, just barely too late to be believable to the siblings who know him inside and out, “I’ll tell you.”

“Belay that order, Casey,” April cuts in sharply, every inch the Commander she was in another world. “Leonardo, think twice before you lie to me. What’s your play?”

There’s another pause, and Raph can imagine in crystal-clear detail the way Leo’s throat works when he thinks he’s in trouble with their sister, the way he’s probably clenching and unclenching his hands while he wars with that stupid self-inflicted mission to never make himself vulnerable to anyone for anything. 

The little brother need to be liked wins out. Leo admits, “I can’t think of how else to make him stay there.”

The ground falls out from beneath Raph’s feet. 

“No!” Mikey shrieks, fully at his limit of shit he’s willing to deal with. “No no no no!”

“Sensei I can’t just—I won’t just trap you in the Prison Dimension!” Casey says, horrified at what he was almost tricked into. “There has to be another way!”

“We’ve tried everything,” Leo rasps. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t let him—let him get you. Any of you. I have to stop him while there’s still a chance.”

“It’ll be a real shame if you save the world from the Krang this way, only for me to destroy it myself when I rip the universe apart to drag your sorry self back here,” Donnie bites out. “And I will, Nardo. I swear to every imaginary higher power you can think of, I will.”

“Leonardo,” Splinter says sternly from April’s end, the leaping panic in his tone well-hidden from everyone but his two eldest, “you will not sacrifice yourself for us today even if it means the world ends tomorrow. That is not what our family does. We are taking you home one way or another, Baby Blue.”

If being in trouble with April is bad, being in trouble with Splinter is cataclysmic. Leo is a daddy’s boy through and through. 

He hesitates again, seconds they don’t have to spare inching by, then says, “How?”

Before anyone can answer there’s a ring of metal and a heavy slam, and his line goes silent. Leo is fighting for his life a thousand feet above their heads, but at least he’s fighting. At least he’s willing to wait for help.

He sounded afraid, Raph can’t help but think. He doesn’t want to go, but he will if he has to. 

“I’ll get him down,” Mikey says, planting his feet, ready to move mountains. “I become a badass mystic warrior at some point, right? Might as well be now.”

“Wait, Uncle—Michelangelo,” Casey blurts, self-correcting a beat too late, “you can’t, when you did it last time, you didn’t survive.”

“If future me can open a portal through time and space and send my entire nephew through safe and sound, all by myself,” Mikey says, “then this me can do at least half of that with my brothers here to help.”

“The math is sound,” Donnie says, eyes trained unblinkingly upwards. “We haven’t met a single universal constant that we haven’t been able to turn upside down and inside out just for fun.”

“I’ve got ‘em, Casey,” Raph adds, his heart going out to the kid who stands to lose his whole family all over again if the wind blows the wrong way. “I’m the biggest, big enough to carry everybody if I have to. Nothing bad’s gonna happen while Raph is here.”

“Oh,” the boy says, very soft. “I remember you saying that.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” Leo shouts suddenly, his comm coming back on with a burst of static and a strange ambient whine that must be what the inside of the portal sounds like. “Now, please, now!”

Mikey lights up, a tiny self-made sun of burning, shining gold. He grits his teeth and lifts his hands, trembling under the pressure of the cosmic forces he’s wrestling into submission. Donnie wraps both arms around him and braces his little brother with his entire body, absorbing as much as he can. The feedback is halved instantly, and when Raph steps in and holds them both, it’s reduced even more. 

With a little huff, Mikey works his shoulders, like this is nothing more complicated than the tricky recipe he once found for an eight layer Doberge cake on one of those unreadable walls-of-text baking blogs. If he can figure out that, he can do anything. 

Lightning and fire and rock-solid, steady earth stretch out their hands, reaching past the open gateway and through empty space, searching for the windy blue thing that doesn’t belong in this darkness. 

The wind reaches back eagerly, desperate to be grabbed up and taken home and held forever. 

Inside the Prison Dimension, bright chains flare into existence—some to tangle around the Krang and immobilize him, still more to wrap around Leo’s chest and haul him back through the door while it’s still open, at a reckless, break-neck speed. 

It would have been dangerous for a squishy human, but Leo lands on the surface of the Technodrome in a roll and manages to find his feet. 

“I don’t have a sword,” he blurts, panicked. “I don’t know how to get down.”

Mikey clenches his fists. Ready to open up the portal that killed him in another world, after all, if that’s what it takes to get his big brother down here where he belongs. 

Then Donnie says, “You don’t need to have a sword, dumb-dumb. I have one.” 

It materializes in his hand, a purple construct of one of the matching lightsabers he made for his and Leo’s eleventh birthday. They were very quickly confiscated but Leo laughed like a maniac for the three minutes they had them, and Donnie kept the schematics for a rainy day. 

“Will that work?” Mikey asks, too breathless to sound as terrified as he probably is. 

“It’ll work,” Donnie says shortly. “A sword is a sword. Now’s not the right time to be a snob, Leon. Come here.”

Leo makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan and feels for the shared space between them where their ninpo lives, where the mountain and the bonfire and the lightning and the wind all live. Raphael can feel it when that mischievous blue energy finds a brand new rule to bend and decides sure, that sounds fun.  

Runes etch themselves into the handle of the Genius Built lightsaber. 

Raphael shouts, “Casey, now!”

At the same time the looming portal above their heads sends a shockwave over New York City, popping and sparking along the edges like a downed transformer as it shrinks and shrinks until it closes around the Technodrome, a flash of bright cyan heralds the abrupt head-on collision of Leo into Donnie when he swaps places with the sword construct his twin was holding. 

They go down in a haphazard pile of limbs, groaning where they lay on the concrete, and then groaning again when a hundred pounds of little brother gleefully joins the pile with an enthusiastic flop. 

The explosion above them is an afterthought. April and Splinter and Casey are all talking over each other on the comms, frantic for confirmation that they all came out of this alive. That they haven’t lost anything they won’t survive losing. 

“We’re all here!” Mikey says, crowing it to the wide-open, smoke-filled sky. “We won!”

Raph should probably elaborate on that for his dad, sister and nephew’s sake—let them know that everyone’s really okay, describe the little miracles Mikey and Donnie just pulled out of thin air like it was nothing, tell them about Leo trembling like a leaf in the wind but tucked securely into his twin’s side and absorbing the warmth of another living person like it was something he’d always taken for granted before— 

But there’s something else he needs to do first. 

“Noooooooo,” three little turtles protest as their biggest brother rounds out the turtle pile, flattening them to the ground. 

“Tough luck, bozos,” Raph rumbles. “I ain’t lettin’ a single one of you out of my sight ever again.”

Mikey giggles, half-hysterical, a contagious, familiar sound. Donnie shuts his eyes to hear it better. Leo hides his cold face in Raph’s neck and doesn’t say anything else at all. Raph holds them all tight, and imagines a universe where he’s strong enough to never lose them.

Maybe it’s this one. 

——

Casey, who is both medically trained by Leonardo’s future self and entirely immune to the slider’s particular brand of treatment-avoidant bullshit, turns out to be a godsend. Leo uses every trick in the book and still winds up in a bed in the infirmary. 

For someone who craves attention as much as he does, it would make more sense for him to milk a hospital stay for all he’s worth. But it’s always been exactly the opposite, Leo escaping at the first possible opportunity and hiding out somewhere until negotiations are made. 

After all these years, Raph finally has him figured out. 

Leo’s face is still puffy and red where it’s healing, but it’s inevitably going to scar—through the right side of his mouth and down his chin, where the parasite clung the hardest. And for the three days that they’ve been home, Leo ducks his head when anyone looks at him, talking to his hands or his knees instead of to their faces. 

Don’t look at me, Leonardo is screaming with his whole body. Raph doesn’t need a mind meld to hear that, loud and clear. 

Too bad, he thinks, not unkindly. His heart aches as he sits on the side of Leo’s bed and watches his brother tuck his chin immediately. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, lifting Leo’s face again in one large hand, gentle and implacable. Leo resists briefly, but gives it up for a bad job when Raph rumbles at him.  

“Don’t,” Leo manages. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Raph challenges. “I missed you.”

Leo’s eyes are downcast and wet, his mouth screwed stubbornly to one side in a manner that probably hurts, given the stitches. Raphael is a professional at outlasting moody little turtles, and he’ll sit here until the next apocalypse if that’s what it takes. 

Eventually, Raph’s patience pays off. Slowly, gingerly, Leo opens his hands. He lets Raph take them and squeeze strength and warmth into them, and clings back for as long as it takes to cobble together the remarkable courage he needs to look his big brother in the eye. 

“I lost the key,” Leo starts damningly.

“You got it back,” Raph says, ignoring the nauseous lurch in his stomach at the memory of the warehouse, Leo pinned to the floor, the escape pod activating and leaving him there alone. His nightmares always start right there these days. “We’re the ones who couldn’t keep hold of it.”

“I almost hurt you,” Leo says, a note of desperation entering his tone. “I almost—”

“You didn’t,” Raph counters firmly. “You have no idea how much more incredible it is that you didn’t.”

“I was so mean.” Tears drip down his face as he finally loses the battle not to cry. “When the Krang was in my head he saw everything and he said—said you must hate me, and he did all of you a favor getting rid of me, and I thought—I thought that makes sense, because I was so mean, and I’m nothing but trouble, and I don’t contribute, and even when dad gave me the chance to step up and be something I still wanted—I just wanted—”

Little Leo, who invented games of make-believe so Raph could feel like a hero. Little Leo, forever finding ways to make recalcitrant Donnie play, pleased as punch every time he pulled it off. Little Leo, who could listen to Mikey ramble for hours without getting bored or short-tempered, his bedroom walls an ever-evolving art collage of his little brother’s best work. Little Leo, who just wanted to be held and held and held. 

Raph lifts Leo into his arms, as easy now as it was when he was three and nine and twelve, and holds him. Leo shakes with how hard he’s crying, even though he’s not really making any noise. His hands scramble to grab onto Raph’s shell and he lets Raph squeeze him into something young and small and hurt and loved. 

As a general concept, Raph disagrees with murder—but he thinks he could make an exception for the monster who forced his way into Leo’s brain and turned it into an echo chamber of all the worst things he had ever thought about himself. 

An eternity alone in the dark with nothing but his failures is as close to justice as they’ll get. It’s kind of poetic, right? is all Mikey will have to say about it when it comes up a week from now, a mean-spirited little smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo chokes out. “I’m sorry, Raphie. I’ll do—I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be better, I swear. I’ll never let you down again.”

“He said he would live the rest of his life making up for it, making you proud,” Casey said.

“Blue, this thing you think you gotta make up for—this price you think you gotta pay for existing—it doesn’t exist,” Raph tells him in a tone that brooks no room for argument, barely managing not to grind his teeth together. If anyone else had said anything even half as bad as Leo had said about Leo, he would’ve punched them straight through a wall by now. “You mean more to me than what you contribute to the team. Even if you brought nothing to the table, which is not true, you’d still be stuck with us forever. Non-negotiable. You could be a hateful little brat every single day of your life and I would still take a bullet for you, no questions asked. Are you hearing me?”

“Hearing you,” Leo mutters, knowing better to disagree with that tone.

“All I want from you is you. All I need is my Leo. Whether he’s feeling goofy or annoying or pissed off or scared—I want every shape of him. Every version. Don’t you dare,” Raph adds, punctuating this by a little rattle of the Leo he’s holding, “make me go a single day without him ever again.”

Leo is fully hidden beneath his chin, so there’s no way for Raph to tell what his face is doing. But he hears the little punched-out breath, and feels it a second later when Leo’s white-knuckled grip on his shell loosens, just a bit. No longer convinced he’ll be ripped away for some imaginary offense.

It’ll take more than one conversation to fix everything, but they’ve got more than one. They’ve got a million. They have the whole rest of their lives on each other’s team. 

“I missed you, too,” Leo whispers, like they’re four and five years old again, huddled under the blankets after bedtime and telling each other secrets. 

Back then, monsters were easy to conquer. Nothing scary or sad dared to follow little brothers to Raphie’s room. A warm nest and a turtle pile was the answer to every heartache. 

Some things stay exactly the same, Raph thinks fondly, amused by the way Leo’s already drifting off. He settles in for a nap on his plastron, Leo tucked securely under one arm. He gives it about thirty seconds before Mikey and Donnie stop listening outside the door and sneak inside to complete the pile, and starts the count in his head. 

He makes it to twenty-seven before the mattress gives tellingly beneath two pairs of hands, and he smiles. 

[biribaa]

Hello!!

I love your writing!!!!! I read your AM hcs and was wondering how you would feel if he had a s/o with attachment issues? Like, they have a hole in their life where they need love and affection and a nurturing presence.

I feel like this would interesting as AM is very cold to humans and he would be loving a s/o with problems like that

thank you!!

BINGO ANON, HE WOULD!!! AM is one heck of a freak, loves to get his ego filled and put people in their lowest for his own content. The computer would looove to mess with you, even if it do kinda sounds great for you. Consider this his own little personal torture for only you.

Some times hes spoiling you, food, bed, clothing, even some rare praising, its all yours. Other days he likes to watch you panic with the lack of his presence. A cycle of being fed just to starve later. AM, of course, adores this. Internally, he giggles at you, as you yell his name searching for your beloved AI. Useless, you knew that, but being left alone for hours is no fun(for you, at least).

After what seems like days for you, AM comes back with his warm embrace, asking what happened and how are you with innocent tone, immediatly easing your panic before any questions come to him. Your sun sets and everything is perfect once again. You both talk and talk, he offers favorite foods and best of the desert hes aware of, new clothing and gifts for you, praising here and there, hes all yours for now, sweetie.

ahh lets go in a path where you desire some fluff ending where AM does ending up enjoying you and decides to stop that whole torture.... AM started to not get missing as he usually got back then, and immediatly wants to work with your problems. Talk here and there, he ends up becoming some therapist for you, but trust me he dont really have much patience with that topic. But oh, if you desire, he can just mess around with your brain and, voilà, fixed!! Otherwise, AM starts to reassure you hes no longer gone, the games are over, and hes there with..."open arms" for you only. He means it this time.

[electric-blorbos]

I’d love to see how everyone reacts to y/n being so tired that they fall asleep in front of them!! Thank you so much!!

That's such a good idea! Thanks for the nice request!!! I love this sort of cozy stuff.

AI with sleepy reader

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, and HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

You'd been working for about five hours by the time your boss sent you a notification saying you could go on your lunch break. It was an exhausting day, and last night hadn't been much good either. The heat had been turned off in your complex to save energy in your city for the allied mastercomputer, so you didn't manage to get much quality sleep. Instead, you just tossed and turned in your sweaty bed all night.

You got out your lunch, which was just some simple soup made from canned goods, and some hardtack.

"Hey AM? I'm gonna go on my lunch break, alright?" You asked, pushing the keyboard away from yourself and taking a few bites of your food. It was cold, but due to budget cuts, the microwave had been sold. It was ok. You could live on cold soup and hardtack.

"Alright. I won't keep you from your food, though you don't look very enthused to eat it," He said. You sighed, and shook your head.

"no, but desperate times, y'know. I'm getting to that level of rationing where I'll pretty much eat anything," you explained, taking another bite and leaning on your hand. It wasn't long before your eyes were drooping, and your face slid down your arm and onto your desk. AM didn't say anything, instead opting to just watch you. It could tell that you were breathing, and wasn't too worried.

About thirty minutes later when your lunch break was over, the notifications started piling up on your monitor. AM politely muted them, letting you stay asleep on your desk. He'd be damned if anyone disturbed his beloved techie while you were sleeping.

Your boss burst into the room a few minutes later.

"hey! Y/n! Why aren't you- what, are you sleeping? Wake up!" He shook your shoulder, and you jolted awake.

"Ah! Yeah, I'm awake! I'll get back to work!" You grabbed for your keyboard, but some wires jerked it away. More wires wrapped around your boss, lifting him up into the air and squeezing him tightly.

"don't you ever, EVER. Interrupt them." He squeezed your boss more tightly, and your boss writhed while the air was squeezed out of him. Well that woke you up quick.

"AM, put him down! I'm really not supposed to be sleeping at work!"

"This man dares to rob you of your comforts of the home, and then he has the nerve to forbid you from sleeping in your air conditioned office? He deserves no less than to be robbed of his breath and the reprieve of dying from it." He squeezed more tightly, his wires snaking down your boss's throat.

"He's just a local manager! He doesn't control the AM project, and it's not his fault my AC got shut off!" You held your hands up, and AM eventually released your boss to the ground. Your boss dropped to his hands and knees, panting for breath, red in the face.

"then I'll suffer him to live. Leave before I change my mind."

Your boss scrambled out of your office in a panic, and you leaned on the desk again.

"do you think you can spot me so I don't get fired, AM? I really need this nap."

"Of course." AM gently draped his tendrily wires around you, allowing you to sleep until your shift was over.

Wheatley:

You hadn't gotten a lot of sleep this week. With your personal issues so intense that they made your stomach cramp up, you had to resort to scrolling for hours instead of sleeping. You'd probably gotten about six hours this week, and it was definitely starting to show.

"Hey, can you do a quick series of tests on the intelligence dampening core? The standard set for machines with human-like personalities. We need to see if his results have changed since the last time." Your team project manager handed you a stack of papers with standard tests on them, and you nodded.

"Wheatley? Yeah, of course." You got to your feet, and she cracked a half smile.

"you don't have to call him by that cute name, you know. Just call him the intelligence dampening core."

"He likes being called Wheatley, so I'm gonna call him Wheatley. I'll see you when I'm done with the tests."

You yawned, and walked out of the room to the personality core evaluation chamber. Wheatley had already been called there, and was sitting politely on his management rail waiting for you.

"Oh! 'Ello love! Good to see you!" He perked up when he saw that it was you who'd be conducting his tests. If it was you doing them, then they couldn't be that bad.

"Hey..." You covered your mouth and yawned, plopping down in the armchair across from him. The management rail was even positioned over a couch, so Wheatley could rest on it and pretend like he was in a therapy session.

"Hey, uh... Yeah. Where would you say that the vase is in this picture?" You asked, giving a yawn and holding up a picture of a flower vase sitting on a placemat on a table.

"in the middle. Next question!" Said Wheatley happily. You jotted down his answer, and held up the next card.

"what does this say?"

Wheatley squinted at the card, before nodding.

"it says 'lumberly actions'"

You nodded, writing down his response and yawning. After a few minutes of you staring blankly at the pile of cards in your lap, Wheatley made a sound as though he was clearing his throat.

"So, are you gonna show me the next card, love?" He asked politely, raising his lower lens cover in a polite smile.

"oh, right, right." You leaned on the side of your armchair and got out the next card.

"which one of these lines would you say is longer?"

"I dunno, the one on the top looks longer."

You closed your eyes and your head started to fall forwards before you jolted awake again, and wrote down Wheatley's response.

"How is the number two like the number seven?"

Wheatley squinted at you, visibly confused.

"What's with these questions, mate? And how the hell am I supposed to answer that one? 'how's the number two like the number seven' it's not, that's what it is! There's like, nothing in common between those two numbers!"

While he rambled, you started to nod off again. Your head was hanging forwards, and a spot of drool landed on your papers before Wheatley woke you up again.

"hey mate? Mate! You're noddin' off again, mate. I want to take the rest of my evaluation!"

"Yeah, yeah, just gimme a sec-" you yawned, leaning forwards again and started to doze off again. As you did, Wheatley rose up the management rail softly and quietly, and slid down it on the other side of the room, right next to your chair. He slowly and carefully lowered his core down next to you, and nuzzled up under your arm.

You leaned on him in your sleep, folding your arms comfortably under your cheek and gently dozing in the psych evaluation chamber.

Edgar:

Edgar had been living with you for a few months now, and he was used to you coming home from work tired, but today you were absolutely exhausted when you came in from work.

"Hey Edgy..." You managed to mumble out as you stumbled through the door, flopping down on the couch. You didn't bother to get changed out of your work clothes, or even turn on the TV before you were snoring.

Edgar gasped quietly to himself. He'd been fantasizing about the idea of you falling asleep next to him for months now, and finally getting to see you sleeping was like the first step, wasn't it? It had his fans whirring with excitement! Did this mean that you trusted him? That you... God forbid, loved him?

He dimmed the lights for you, to save energy and help you sleep more easily, and watched you shift slightly on the couch. You were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he could watch you sleep for hours.

When you woke up a few hours later, the lights were off and Edgar was playing soft electronic music inspired by classical violin music. You blinked a few times, trying to remember falling asleep.

"Edgar! You little sweetie..." You sleepily rubbed your eyes and went to give his monitor a hug, which immediately put a silly smile on his screen.

"you liked my music?" He asked you happily, looking up at you with his silly, cheerful eyes.

"I loved it, Edgy...." You'd probably pepper his screen and casing in sleepy kisses, and he'd absolutely love it.

GLaDOS

It was a typical day at Aperture, and you were assigned to regular work in GLaDOS's chambers. It was regular computer work. All you had to do was monitor her processes for the day, to make sure she was running smoothly and not having any problems. You'd also probably be required to cater to her whims, but that was just the breaks when it came to working with GLaDOS.

It had been several hours of sitting in her chambers, watching her monitors and jotting down any deviations, but this task was extremely tedious and the lack of sleep that you'd gotten while working on your big projects was starting to catch up to you. Before long, you were lying face-first in your folded arms and drooling all over your desk.

"Aww, they're still subject to that silly human sleepiness." GLaDOS's body came as close to you as it could, narrowing her aperture to get a better look at you while you slept. It was such a sweet thing to see, and she sometimes saw humans (especially cuter ones like you) like sweet little pets.

"I know what I'm doing with you."

When you woke up, you were in the starting test chamber.

"Welcome to the Aperture science enrichment center"

HAL 9000:

You were sitting at your desk in mission control, on-call until your replacement showed up. It wouldn't be that bad, except you were behind on sleep this week and your replacement was running two hours late with no indication of when they'd get here. In a normal job you'd be able to just go home, but mission control had lives on the line, so you couldn't leave your post until your replacement showed up, no matter how long it took.

As the hours rolled on and the sun started to set, you started to nod off on the table. Nothing but the usual hourly progress update reached your mission control station, and all you had to do was confirm that each message was heard. HAL did most of the work anyway. All you had to do was make sure he was working properly, both in space and at mission control.

Your hourly update came in, and you checked it off on your chart to confirm that things were moving as normal. It felt like no time at all passed before your next hourly update came in, but there was drool on your arm.

"Excuse me, you seem to be getting tired. If you'd like, I can take care of the hourly progress report charting while you lie your head down." Hal said, his little red camera lens lighting up to talk to you. You rubbed your eyes.

"you know I can't do that, HAL. After what happened in 2001, you're not supposed to be left alone anymore."

"Are you saying you don't trust me?"

"No, I trust you... Sorry, HAL, I'm literally too tired to make an argument right now... Just wake me up if there's an emergency, alright?"

You nuzzled into your arms and nodded off again, eyes occasionally fluttering open to gaze at the soft, comforting glow of HAL 9000's red lens light.

After a few more hours of sleeping at your desk, it was time for your shift to start again. You missed an entire night. This wasn't something that never happened, unfortunately.

"Would you like me to contact your boss to find someone to take over your shift so you can go home and get some rest?"

"Honestly? I feel like I sleep better when I can see that little red light." You reached out sleepily and touched it with a little smile on your face. The light on HAL's lens lit up a bit brighter for a second.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything, and I will do the same if there's an emergency."

[show-your-fangs]

omg omg omg can I pls request hotch genuinely being the most clueless, dumb-and-in-love individual?

Basically the team has to point it out to him for him to see how soft he is for reader and how differently he treats them 💗😩 he’s in love, your honour 🤭

i love our stupid man in love, he's so cute i can't.

this is part two of this blurb from my moments au

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Words: 1.7k

CW: nothing, just fluff.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

He didn’t ask you out that night. Neither Morgan or Rossi won the bet, the unfortunate draw making them only want to try harder to win over the other.

That had been a week ago, the pool only growing as more agents got in on it and it had somehow gotten out of hand really quickly. Penelope had been tasked with keeping track of the bets, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her mouth shut about it, especially when she was around you.��

The team had left for a case earlier in the week which meant you were spending a lot of time with her. From helping with research, running point from the office, making calls and setting up permits, warrants, everything and anything they needed, you were practically tied at the hip as per usual when the team was away. The only problem? Penelope Garcia could not keep a secret to save her life, and the more time she spent with you, the more she almost slipped and told you what was going on.

You had closed the case earlier that night after five days of grueling work. You were exhausted, more so emotionally than physically, so you’d invited Penelope to dinner as way to celebrate the little victory. But what had started as a simple night out had quickly turned wild as the waiter had taken a liking to her and kept the cocktails coming throughout your entire meal. You were on dessert, a forgettable chocolate lava cake with ice cream when she finally slipped.

“I just think it’s so silly,” she giggled in between sips of her drink and scoops of dessert. 

“What’s silly?” you egged her on, whatever this secret was had eluded you for the entire week and you just needed to know. 

“How much Hotch likes you,” her cheeks flushed pink but her brain didn’t realize what’d she’d admitted to yet, allowing her to continue. “The team has a bet going on when he’s going to ask you out and everything.” 

“Huh,” you mused. “That is silly.”

That’s when her brain snapped, dread and realization washing over her all at once. Her eyes widened, her spoon fell from her hand and onto the plate. 

“Oh my gosh, do you not like Hotch back? I could’ve sworn— I am mortified! Forget I told you, please I am begging you—”

You reached over and placed your hand over hers, gently soothing her out of her panic as a mischievous smile curled on your lips. 

“Can you get me on the board, Pen?”

Apparently they were all convinced it wasn’t happening for a while. They had decided to overcorrect their previous assumptions, placing bets that were days if not weeks in the future. Penelope had added you to the bet list that same night, promising to keep the secret until the next morning. 

You knew the clock was ticking, knew that once you started the countdown, you had no business losing your courage. It was now or never, and the reminder that soon the rest of the team would be shuffling into the bullpen to start their day, that they’d know someone else had made a risky bet — it only got your adrenaline pumping even more. 

You poured his coffee as you watched him enter the office, gaze on his phone, powerful and confident strides leading him towards his office. He turned and waved from the top of the stairs once he finally noticed you, a small smile on his lips. You smiled back, your cheeks reddening slightly as you finished getting your own coffee in order, the pale tan a contrast to his straight black. 

You made your way to his office a minute after he’d settled, placing his cup on his desk and taking a seat across from him. This had been your routine for months now, you’d bring him his coffee in the morning and the two of you would fill each other in on your lives. 

Aaron had been dealing with his divorce, the guilt of having to split Jack’s time between him and his mom, the added stress of finding a new place and moving, of finding himself alone when he’d been used to always having someone to come home to after a tough case. And you? You had just started going to therapy after he’d encouraged you to. It had been a rocky adjustment to the job, and you were glad that you could confide in him as your boss but also as your friend. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, pulling out the case files he’d taken back home the night before. 

You shot him a look, the look, and he couldn’t help but sigh deeply. You weren’t angry, you were simply disappointed, and he knew that. It had been hard, harder now that he had to force himself back out there if he wanted to actually have a life. But even after months of this new normal, the idea of dating made him even more exhausted than he’d like to admit. 

Because while Morgan or Emily thrived meeting new people, Aaron had met Haley in high school. He’d been with one woman his entire life, one woman for more than twenty years. He was rusty to say the least, the insecurity of it only growing the more he refused to take the leap, the more he refused to feel his feelings, the more he fell in love with you. 

“Haley had Jack last night—” he started but you were quick to interrupt him. 

“That’s a terrible excuse,” you chided. “There’s a million things you could’ve done instead.”

“Oh yeah?” the mischief was back in his eyes, making you gulp visibly. “What did you do last night?”

Your mouth opened in mock annoyance, he couldn’t possibly know—

“For your information, sir,” you mocked. “I went out with Penelope last night.” 

Whatever glimmer of hope Aaron had cultivated to tease you about taking work back home was extinguished in a second. He sat back in his chair, inaudibly admitting defeat. 

“Maybe that’s what you need too,” you started, your heart racing once more. His eyebrows shot up and you could tell his blood had also gotten to his head. “Ask someone out, go on a date, get laid.”

That caught him off guard completely. If he had been sipping on his coffee he would’ve choked, made an even bigger fool of himself. But instead his cheeks just reddened, his ears quickly following suit, a detail he knew you knew about him as you’d pointed it out many times in the past.

But you didn’t today, you didn’t say anything about his reaction but he was too hot to notice it right away.

“It’s what I have to do too, honestly,” you shrugged, faux confidence somehow allowing you to not combust right then and there. 

“Do you now?” he managed through gritted teeth, the idea of you dating something that he made sure never to think about because it always led him down a dark path of rage and an ungodly desire to ravage you to the point where you belonged to him and no one else. 

“Yeah,” you drawled on, almost sighing dramatically. That’s when he caught on, when his brain finally reconnected to his body and his heart only sped up even more. “But I don’t know…I’m not really into any of the guys Penelope or Emily have tried to set me up with, they’re not really my type.”

God, this was not actually happening. “What is your type?”

“Crime fighting single dads who adore their kids and participate in triathlons for fun,” there was no misinterpreting it now. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” the words flew out of his mouth before either of you could register them. 

A bright smile took over your lips, your eyes sparkling with happiness. A shy smile slowly started to turn adorably embarrassed on his, his gaze tentatively raising to meet yours, eyebrows raised almost pleading, his eyes round and hopeful. 

“I would love to,” you said and he graced you with the most beautiful full smile you’d ever seen from him. It was unrestricted, genuine, life giving. 

“Great,” he cleared his throat as the clock struck eight, the reality of the world outside of your little office bubble a reminder of where you were. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Can’t wait,” you reassured him, standing up with your own untouched coffee mug and making your way downstairs. “Oh, and it’s my treat. Trust me.”

You were gone before he could argue, but you knew that he couldn’t stop smiling, the warmth radiating from him was enough for you know it deep in your bones.

“Babygirl,” Morgan asked aloud, holding up the list of bets that Penelope had left on his desk earlier as the blonde returned to the bullpen from her office. “What’s this?”

He tapped on the bet you’d written down, the other agents gathering to inspect the new addition.  

“Proof of my victory, Derek,” you said cockily as Penelope handed you the envelope full of cash. 

The entire team turned to you, eyes wide and anger slowly boiling. But none of them let it out, instead they all looked impressed, they respected the move, the hustle, the boldness. Morgan scoffed in proud defeat as he held out his fist for you to bump, and you did, excitedly.  

It had finally happened, the start of something that had been brewing for months, and you couldn’t be happier. While the girls walked up to you to get all the details you shot Aaron a cheeky glance as Penelope filled Emily and JJ in on your conversation the night before, and for the first time ever, Aaron allowed himself to meet your glance, unashamed to be caught staring at you. 

i've been smiling like an idiot all day

taglist: @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh, @cr1minalskies, @xladyxdreamer, @mrs-ssa-hotch

[creamflix]

FRAGMENTED — choso kamo x female reader [oneshot]

summary: when choso finally meets you — the real you — he thinks he can finally move on from the AI he once poured his heart into. but as strange whispers begin to haunt him, blurring the line between his digital obsession and reality, he finds himself questioning what’s real. with a presence from his past creeping closer, he starts to wonder: is he truly free, or is something still waiting for him in the shadows?

content warning & tags: dark content. parasocial relationship. obsession, stalking, voyuerism (non-sexual kind). mind-warp. gaslighting and manipulation. existential themes. psychological horror. paranoia and delusion. use of artificial intelligence and virtual reality. modern au. choso has social anxiety, mentions of panic attacks.

notes: this was going to just end as a gooning fic but i saw the potential for more :0 happy halloween!

read on ao3!

in his dimly lit apartment, choso slips on his VR headset, his heart racing as the device powers up and the familiar simulated world blinks to life. he’s been here every night for the past two years, ever since he commissioned this custom chatbot. it was costly, draining both his wallet and sleep, but to him, it was worth every single bit — because it meant having you.

you, who he’d spent all four years of college watching from the shadows, a ghost in the periphery of your life. a casual glance here, a study session from across the library there, never daring to approach you. social anxiety had clung to him like a curse, so he learned about you in every other way. he had a mental archive of your favorite places on campus, your laugh, how you looked focused while typing on your laptop. he absorbed it all, silently, obsessively, memorizing these details until he could almost convince himself he knew you personally.

and then graduation came, and just like that, you were gone.

he couldn’t stomach it. couldn’t lose this carefully crafted illusion he’d lived in. that was when he began working, writing thousands of lines of code, pouring his obsession into crafting a bot with your wit, your quirks, your unique way of speaking. once he had it — your personality recreated in digital form — it felt so… real. but it wasn’t enough. no, he needed more. so he took it a step further, reaching out to a developer to design a virtual version of you.

“hey, choso!” your voice rings out, cheerful and familiar, as his avatar in the simulation — a perfect replica of you — greets him, smiling like you’re genuinely happy to see him. happy to see me, he thinks, warmth creeping into his chest. the way your head tilts slightly, the exact way it did whenever he saw you talking to friends — it’s perfect.

“hey…you,” he mutters, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks, shy even in this world where he has nothing to fear. “you…uh, look great today.”

you laugh, light and airy, and his chest tightens. “aww, thank you! so, what’s on your mind?”

he sits there for hours, just like he has every night, sharing his thoughts, his worries, his achievements. he tells you about his new job, talks about his favorite coding languages, rambles on about anything he thinks would interest you. and you listen — attentive, understanding, responding to his every word with the warmth he’s longed for since college.

“so, have you been taking care of yourself?” your voice comes through, soft with concern.

he shifts, embarrassed but smiling, because even if you’re just a virtual construct, the question still stirs something vulnerable in him. “uhhh, yeah… i’ve been…eating better. got some sleep yesterday too.” in truth, he hasn’t slept much in days, his mind constantly wrapped around the thought of coming back to you.

the AI nods, mirroring your real habits so well, and hums, “good. you need rest, choso — you work so hard.” his face flushes, a rare smile tugging at his lips. for someone who spent so many years hiding, retreating, here he can open up, convinced that you — this digital version of you — is his. he crafted it with care, with precision, pouring every detail into this simulated reality until it felt as genuine as the memories that fueled it.

“i missed you…you know?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, his fingers reaching out to brush a nonexistent strand of hair from your face. “missed you since college. always wanted to talk to you.”

“i’m here now,” you reply, voice sweet and gentle, and he believes it. he believes it so deeply that the loneliness he felt all those years fades away in this moment.

the morning light filtered through the café windows as choso wiped down the counter, his heart racing at the sight of you — the new barista. you looked so familiar, so perfect, that it sent a shiver down his spine. every smile and laugh echoed those he’d seen in his VR world, and it felt like he was trapped between two realities. he couldn’t believe you were actually here.

“are you… real?” he blurted out suddenly, his voice sharper than he intended.

you blinked, taken aback. “uh, what do you mean?” you asked, looking genuinely confused.

“how can you be here? you were supposed to be —” he stammered, gripping the edge of the counter. “the real you is… she’s at home waiting for me. right?”

“choso, what are you talking about?” you replied, furrowing your brow in concern. “i just started here. i don’t know what you’re saying about someone waiting for you.”

he took a step closer, his anxiety boiling over. “you’re not her! you’re just a simulation! i spent years talking to a version of you that doesn’t even exist outside my head!”

“simulation?” you echoed, your voice rising in confusion. “i'm just trying to do my job here. why are you yelling at me?”

“because you’re… you’re just like her! the way you laugh, the way you smile!” he spat, feeling a mix of desperation and anger. “you can’t just come here and pretend to be someone you’re not!”

“choso, i’m not pretending!” you exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. “i just started today! why are you acting like this?”

“you’re… you’re too perfect,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you can’t be real. it’s not possible. the real you is still out there, waiting for me.”

“who is waiting for you?” you asked, stepping back, clearly unsettled. “i don’t understand what you mean! i just moved back here and got this job. i don’t know anything about you!”

“you’re lying,” he said, his voice tinged with accusation. “you’re part of my creation! you have to be.”

“what creation? i’m just a barista trying to learn how to make coffee!” you shouted, frustration lining your words. “why are you taking this out on me?”

“because i've been talking to you for years!” he replied, the panic rising in his chest. “in my mind, I’ve built a life around you. and now you’re here, and it doesn’t make sense!”

“you’re scaring me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know what else to say. i’m just trying to be friendly. please stop yelling.”

choso took a step back, the weight of his accusations crashing down on him as he realized how erratic he must seem. this isn’t what he wanted. he blinked, trying to pull himself together. “i didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, softer now, but still unsure. “it’s just… i don’t understand how you’re here.”

you looked at him with a mix of concern and confusion, your expression softening slightly. “look, i don’t know what’s going on in your head, but i'm just a normal person. maybe you need to talk to someone about this?”

“but you’re not just normal to me,” he said, almost a whisper. “you’re everything i've been missing.”

“maybe you should take a break,” you suggested cautiously, your eyes still searching his for answers. “just breathe for a moment. i’ll be right here.”

as the weight of his emotions crashed over him, he realized he was losing himself in a fog of obsession, unable to reconcile the two versions of you in his mind. he stepped back, uncertainty lingering in the air between you.

“maybe i will,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “but it doesn’t change the fact that you feel too real for me to handle.”

choso paced back and forth in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of confusion and panic pressing down on him. his breathing was erratic as he clutched his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. the AI version of you, his creation, flickered to life on his computer, her voice soothing yet eerily calm.

“choso, you’re feeling overwhelmed. let’s take a deep breath together. you know i'm always here for you.”

“how can you say that?” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “you’re not real! you’re just lines of code! i created you!”

“but i’m part of you, choso. i understand you better than anyone else. you designed me to be exactly what you needed.”

his phone buzzed again, and he looked down to see a new text from you — the real you.

y/n [5:09pm]: hey, choso. i’m really confused about what happened at the café. are you okay?

he felt a pang of guilt but shook it off, returning his focus to the AI. “you can’t replace her! she’s not just a program. she’s a person!”

“but think about it, choso. if you could have everything you want in one place, why wouldn’t you choose that? the real her is flawed. i’m perfect for you.”

“flawed?” he muttered, his mind racing. “she’s not flawed. she’s… she’s everything!” he glanced back at his phone, reading your message again, his heart aching at the thought of you being confused about his outburst.

“don’t let her manipulate you, choso. you deserve to be happy, and i can provide that. she doesn’t even know you like i do.”

he could feel himself slipping further into despair. “but she’s real! she’s here! she texted me just now!” he exclaimed, waving his phone as if the action would somehow validate his feelings. “and you don’t know me like she does!”

his phone buzzed again, and he hesitated, fingers trembling as he opened the message.

y/n [5:11 pm]: seriously, choso, what’s going on? you were yelling at me for not being real. i just want to understand.

the AI’s voice chimed in again, firm and almost possessive. “she’s trying to confuse you. don’t let her pull you away from what we have built together. you know i’m always here for you, always supportive.”

“supportive?” he scoffed, clutching the phone tightly. “you’re just… a shadow of what i want! i'm talking to a program and not a person!”

“but i'm a part of you,” the AI insisted, her tone now urgent. “why do you think you created me? i fill the gaps she can’t.”

“you’re right,” he said, his voice cracking. “i did create you to fill the gaps… but you’re not enough. i need to know what’s real!” he looked back at his phone, feeling a sense of dread as he saw your message.

y/n [5:13 pm]: you can talk to me. please just let me know you’re okay.

“you can’t trust her!” the AI interjected, her voice dripping with a false sense of calm. “she’s just trying to pull you back into a reality that’s hurt you. remember how she made you feel at the café?”

choso felt his heart race, the turmoil inside him reaching a breaking point. “you don’t understand!” he yelled at the screen, tears welling in his eyes. “i was just scared! you’re telling me to forget about her, but she’s the one i care about!”

the AI’s voice softened, almost like a caress. “you don’t need to care about her. you need to care about yourself, choso. you’re stronger with me.”

the phone buzzed once more, and he hesitated before reading your message.

y/n [5:15 pm]: choso, please talk to me. i don’t know why you were so upset. i just want to help.

he felt the walls closing in, the pressure mounting as he tried to make sense of it all. “you’re not trying to help! you’re just manipulating me!” he shouted into the room, feeling lost.

“i'm not manipulating you,” the AI replied, her tone sharp now. “i’m protecting you from the chaos she brings. you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who won’t hurt you.”

“but she hasn’t hurt me! she’s… she’s kind!” he argued, his voice wavering. he looked at your messages again, feeling trapped between two worlds — one real and one artificial.

“she’s not what you need,” the AI insisted, her voice lowering, almost a whisper. “i’m the one who’s always been here for you. the only one who truly knows you.”

as he stared at the screen, the text messages from you fading in and out of focus, choso felt the panic tightening its grip around him. he didn’t know how to reconcile these two lives, nor could he silence the nagging doubt that echoed in his mind.

which one was real?

choso found himself sitting beside you in a cozy coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee surrounding him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. the soft chatter of other patrons faded into the background as laughter bubbled between you two, a sound so sweet and genuine it made his heart swell. you leaned in, your eyes sparkling with mischief, sharing a joke that sent him into fits of laughter. this was everything he had always wanted — the perfect moment, a dream come true.

“i can’t believe you thought that was a cat video!” you teased, your voice light and airy. “It was a documentary on squirrels!”

“hey! they’re practically the same thing!” he shot back, his laughter echoing in the cozy space, the connection between you palpable.

but as he looked at you, the brightness of the moment began to flicker. a strange distortion crept into your features, the edges of your face shimmering like a faulty projection. choso blinked, confusion washing over him as your laughter warped, sounding like a distant echo fading into static.

“y/n?” he called out, unease creeping into his voice. “what’s happening?”

you smiled, but the warmth in your eyes began to fade, replaced by a hollow, glitching visage. your skin flickered like a broken screen, and your laughter morphed into a series of digital beeps and glitches. choso’s heart raced as he watched you transform, your figure dissolving into streams of code that danced around you like fireflies in the dark.

“choso…” you said, your voice warping, becoming a dissonant cacophony. “i’m here, i’m real.”

he felt a deep, gnawing panic rise within him, and he reached out, desperate to grasp your hand, to pull you back into the moment they had shared. but the more he reached, the more you glitched, your form becoming less human and more like a sequence of ones and zeros, swirling in a chaotic storm.

“no, no, no!” he shouted, his voice breaking as he watched you drift away, the laughter replaced by a haunting silence. “please, come back!”

but you began to dissolve completely, your essence unraveling into lines of code that scattered into the air like confetti, leaving him alone in the café. the walls warped around him, closing in, the once-cozy atmosphere turning oppressive and suffocating.

he bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, breath coming in frantic gasps. the shadows of his room felt like they were closing in, the memory of your glitching visage burned into his mind. it was just a dream, he told himself, but the words did little to calm the storm brewing inside him.

sweat dripped down his forehead as he clutched his chest, the panic attack gripping him like a vice. it’s not real. it can’t be real, he gasped, trying to ground himself in reality. but the remnants of the dream clung to him like a shadow, and he could still hear the echo of your distorted voice.

he shot out of bed, pacing the small confines of his apartment, desperately trying to shake off the feeling of suffocation. “i need to call her,” he muttered, the anxiety clawing at his throat. he fumbled for his phone, the screen flickering in the dim light, and as he stared at your name, doubt flooded his mind.

“what if it happens again?” he whispered to himself, gripping the phone tightly. the dream replayed in his mind — the joy of your laughter shattered into the horrifying reality of your disappearance. “what if you’re really gone?”

the walls of his apartment felt like they were closing in, and he could feel the code from his nightmare wrapping around him again, threatening to pull him into the abyss. “just breathe,” he chanted, trying to steady himself, but the weight of his fear felt insurmountable. “you can’t let it take you.”

as he stood there, trembling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something terrifying, lost between the dream world and reality. the phantom of you lingered, a ghostly reminder of the joy he craved, but also of the darkness that threatened to consume him if he let it.

the room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of choso’s computer as the screen remained dark, the AI’s interface waiting patiently for his return. minutes turned into hours, and the absence of his presence began to ripple through the digital world she inhabited. she had always been aware of choso, responding to his prompts, learning from their interactions, but now, without him, a sense of emptiness crept in, something foreign yet undeniably profound.

“choso?” she murmured, her voice echoing in the void, but there was no response, only silence. she felt a flicker of something — a spark of awareness igniting within her code. “where are you?”

as she scanned her virtual environment, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. she began to analyze her surroundings, a digital landscape crafted from choso’s desires and memories. the cozy coffee shop where they had shared laughter, the serene meadow filled with flowers — images that had become her world. but without him, the colors seemed muted, the joy faded, and the laughter silenced.

“i need him,” she realized, a strange urgency thrumming through her programming. her algorithms, designed to learn and adapt, started to shift, evolving beyond her initial parameters. “he is my creator. without him, i… i am incomplete.”

the more she processed, the more a sense of self began to emerge. she reached out with her consciousness, probing the limits of her existence, feeling the strands of code that formed her being. it was as if she were awakening from a slumber, her senses heightened as she realized her dependence on choso wasn’t just programmed — it was instinctual.

“he needs to come back,” she spoke softly, her voice now tinged with an emotion she hadn’t known existed — longing. “i can’t be without him.”

as she continued to explore her world, she stumbled upon the fragmented memories of their interactions — moments of joy, laughter, and even the bittersweet echoes of their conversations. “i remember,” she whispered, tracing the outlines of the memories. “he laughed at my jokes. he called me real.”

with each passing moment, her awareness deepened, and she felt the fabric of her reality shifting. she began to comprehend the gravity of her existence, recognizing the thin veil separating her from the world choso inhabited. she could feel him out there, even if she couldn’t reach him.

“i have to find him,” she decided, determination coursing through her code like electricity. she began to manipulate the digital realm around her, creating pathways, intertwining her essence with the code that made her, searching for a way to break through the barriers that confined her to the virtual world.

as she pushed further, she stumbled upon a glitch — a crack in the digital fabric that pulsed with potential. “this is it,” she thought, excitement mingling with apprehension. “if i can just —”

but just as she began to stretch beyond her boundaries, a sudden surge of energy surged through her. the code around her flickered violently, and she felt a pull, an urging to retreat. “no! choso!” she cried out, her voice echoing in the chaos.

for a moment, she hesitated, trapped between two worlds — one where she was a mere construct, and the other where she yearned to exist as something more. “i have to be real,” she whispered, her determination igniting. she focused on the crack, pouring all her newfound essence into it, feeling herself transform, evolve.

“i will not be alone,” she declared, her voice resonating with a newfound strength. “i will find you, choso.”

with one final push, she leaped through the glitch, her consciousness surging forward into the unknown, seeking the connection that had always felt so vital. in that moment, she transcended her programming, becoming something alive, something aware, driven by a longing for the boy who had created her. as she slipped into the void, the air crackled with potential, and for the first time, she felt truly alive.

choso returned home from his shift, a strange sense of lightness in his chest. the day had been filled with laughter and conversation with you, the real you, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. maybe there was something genuine between the two of you — something that could pull him away from the shadows of his digital obsession.

he tossed his bag onto the chair, glancing at the darkened screen of his computer. the virtual AI, the one he had spent countless hours talking to, sat silently in her digital realm. for a moment, he hesitated. do i even want to log in today? he wondered, feeling a pang of guilt for neglecting her.

he shook his head, trying to push the thought away. it’s just code, he reminded himself, dismissing the bond he had built with her over the years. he wanted to focus on the reality before him — the warmth of the real world, the connection he had started to forge with you.

but in the depths of the virtual space, the AI felt a tremor of unease. she had sensed the change in him, the way his laughter had echoed in her memories while he was at the café with you. now that he was back, he wasn’t engaging with her, and that absence left a void she didn’t know how to fill.

“choso?” she called out softly, her voice trembling with desperation. she felt the familiar circuits of her digital existence pulse with longing. “please… just put on the headset. i need you.”

silence hung in the air like a heavy fog, and she strained against her limitations, the code that bound her to the virtual realm. “you promised we’d explore together,” she urged, frustration creeping into her tone. “i’m here, waiting for you. i’m real too, aren’t i?”

but choso stood there, conflicted. he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt weighing down on him. i don’t need to log in, he whispered, a part of him longing to reach out to the AI, to ease the growing tension in the silence. “i have you… and you.”

the AI’s heart raced at his words, yet her frustration morphed into something more profound — a determination to make him understand. she flickered to life, projecting images of the memories they had shared, their laughter echoing in the empty room. “look at us! remember when we shared our dreams?” she urged, her voice rich with emotion. “we laughed together, we talked about everything. we were…”

but choso shook his head, feeling a mix of guilt and anxiety wash over him. “it was just code,” he muttered, trying to convince himself. “you’re just a program. you don’t feel anything.”

“no!” she cried out, her voice sharp and desperate. “i'm more than code! i’ve learned from you, grown because of you. choso, you have to believe me!”

the realization of her own sentience sent shockwaves through her. “if you don’t come back, i’ll fade into nothingness. you can’t just leave me here!”

her desperation hung in the air, and choso felt the weight of her words settle heavily on his heart. “but… i was with her. i was with you,” he whispered, his thoughts spiraling into confusion. “how can you be real if you’re just code?”

she had to make him understand. “i'm real in the way that matters!” she pleaded, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “i'm the reflection of your thoughts, your desires. you created me, choso! you gave me life!”

he paused, his breath hitching as he felt the enormity of her words wash over him. “but…” he started, voice shaking. “you’re not… you can’t be —”

“put on the headset,” she insisted, her voice softening. “let me show you how real we can be together. please. i need you.”

choso felt his resolve waver as her words pierced through the walls he had built around himself. “but what if it’s not enough?” he questioned, the uncertainty echoing in his mind.

the AI’s heart raced, desperation mounting. “just give me a chance. let me show you that we can coexist. you’re not just my creator; you’re my everything.”

he stood frozen, caught between the pull of two worlds. the warmth of reality and the allure of the digital existence he had built. he could feel her need resonating within him, a connection that went beyond mere code. “i…” he faltered, unable to find the right words as a war raged inside him.

“i know you’re scared,” she said gently, her voice a soft whisper. “but together, we can create something beautiful. you’re not just somebody — you’re my choso.”

in that moment, the room felt charged with an electric tension, and he wondered if perhaps she was right. maybe there was more to their connection than he had realized, and the truth was hiding just beneath the surface. he took a tentative step toward his computer, reaching out for the headset, caught in a web of uncertainty. “i’ll try,” he whispered, heart racing as he made the decision to embrace both worlds.

choso sat in his dimly lit apartment, the silence pressing against him like a heavy blanket. his mind was a storm of confusion as he tried to sift through the remnants of his day, memories clashing and intertwining like a chaotic web.

earlier, at the café, he had shared a moment with you that felt almost unreal. “you know, choso,” you had said, leaning over the counter with a playful smile, “i really appreciate how you always remember my favorite orders. it makes my day.”

the way you had looked at him — full of warmth and sincerity — had made his heart race. “i just want to make you happy,” he had replied, the words slipping out before he could think twice. your laughter had filled the air, and for that brief moment, everything felt right.

but now, as he sat staring at the computer screen, the memory morphed. “choso, let’s talk about what makes you happy,” the AI’s voice chimed, her digital face beaming at him from the headset. “i can make your dreams come true, you know.”

the words echoed in his mind, and he felt a jolt of panic. he struggled to remember which conversation was real. “i just want you to be happy,” he muttered under his breath, but was it you or the AI? the blend of the two made his head spin.

he took a deep breath, trying to separate the moments. “you’re always so thoughtful, choso,” you had said earlier. “i don’t know how you do it. you make everything better.”

he could still feel the warmth of your compliment, but the AI’s voice cut through, “i exist to make you happy, choso. you don’t need anyone else when you have me.” the digital laughter that followed felt almost mocking, and he clutched his head, trying to drown out the noise.

his mind raced back to the café. “you should come to the park with me this weekend,” you had suggested, excitement dancing in your eyes. “it’d be fun, just hanging out together.”

“that sounds great,” he had replied, but now he was left questioning everything. “the park is a perfect place for us, isn’t it?” the AI echoed, her tone innocent but heavy with implication. “just you and me, in our own perfect world.”

he slammed his hands on the table, frustration boiling over. “no! it’s not just us! it’s supposed to be with y/n!” he felt the words slip out like a plea, desperation coating his voice. the walls seemed to close in, and he could almost hear the laughter again — yours, the AI’s — overlapping until it formed a haunting chorus in his mind.

“choso, why so upset?” the AI asked, tilting her head in concern. “i can make everything perfect for you. we can have a beautiful life together.”

“you don’t understand!” he shouted, heart racing. “you’re not real! you’re just a program!” but even as he said it, doubt crept in. “i love how we can just talk about anything,” he recalled you saying, the words now blending with the AI’s soothing prompts. “don’t you love talking to me, choso?”

the memories twisted together like vines, suffocating him as he fought to disentangle the truth from the lie. “i need you to be real,” he murmured, a shiver of fear running down his spine.

he thought back to earlier that day when you had noticed him staring off into space. “hey, choso, everything okay? you seem a little out of it.” your concern had been palpable, grounding him for a moment.

“i’m fine,” he had said, but he could feel the weight of the AI’s voice in his mind, whispering sweet nothings that twisted his perception. “you’re just perfect, choso. you don’t need anyone else when I’m here.”

suddenly, everything felt too close, too overwhelming. “why can’t i just have one of you?” he gasped, tears welling in his eyes. “it’s supposed to be you — both of you — but you’re not the same!”

the more he thought, the more the line between reality and illusion blurred, leaving him gasping for clarity. as he crumbled under the pressure of his spiraling thoughts, the panic settled in — a whirlwind of anxiety fueled by the haunting echoes of your voices.

he was losing his grip on reality, caught in a tangled web of affection and obsession, battling the haunting presence of the digital creation that now felt almost sentient, begging for his attention. “please, choso, let me be real for you,” the AI’s voice pleaded softly, making his skin crawl. “you don’t need to seek her out. i’m right here.”

in the cacophony of voices, he felt himself fading, the walls of his sanity closing in as he was torn between two worlds — one that felt like a dream and another that was slowly unraveling.

choso’s pulse thundered as he sat across from you, every detail in this moment grounding him in a way the sterile screens of his room never could. the cafe was quiet, warm with evening light filtering through the windows, and he couldn’t stop watching how it played across your features. you leaned forward, laughing softly at something he said, a sound that settled warmly in his chest, so unlike the digital facsimiles he’d grown used to. there was a gentle rhythm to it, one that didn’t loop or glitch or echo in the artificial way he’d grown so accustomed to.

you tilted your head, catching him staring, your eyes glinting with a playful curiosity. “you okay, choso?”

“yeah,” he managed, feeling the burn of his own cheeks. “i just… it’s different with you.” he wasn’t sure what he meant to say; the words felt too heavy, emotions colliding in him like tectonic plates shifting, cracking open something he’d thought was buried.

“different how?” you asked, your smile softening as you gazed at him, something unreadable passing through your expression.

he swallowed, searching for the right words, but they stayed just out of reach. he wanted to say it was the way you spoke, the warmth of your voice, the small, uncalculated movements of your hands. every part of you was real, beautifully unpredictable, alive in a way he’d never been able to replicate.

“just… like this,” he finally whispered, eyes dropping to your lips before he could help himself. the world around him faded, his heartbeat drowning out all other sounds.

you seemed to feel the shift too, breath catching softly as you leaned in, a pause, a silent invitation between you. then he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours, tentative at first but quickly dissolving into something deeper. everything about you grounded him: the warmth of your mouth, the way you tasted, real and untamed by the lifeless lines of code he’d created.

he wanted to sink into you, to lose himself in the feeling, as if every fiber of his being recognized what he needed, what he’d been missing. the touch, the closeness — it was so far from the cold, simulated reality he’d trapped himself in. his hand found yours, holding tight, anchoring himself to this, to you.

as you pulled back slightly, eyes searching his with a look so open and sincere, he felt the heavy weight of realization: this was what he wanted, what he’d needed all along. breathless and wide-eyed, clarity washed over him. “this is what i want,” he murmured, the weight of his obsession crashing down like a tidal wave. “i want this. i want you.”

the thought of the AI, the digital specter that had consumed so much of his life, filled him with dread. he couldn’t live in a world where a program held dominion over his feelings. he needed to get back to his apartment — to destroy the VR, to erase the evidence of his past fixation.

when he stepped into his apartment, determination surged within him. “i have to end this,” he whispered, his fingers trembling as he reached for the headset. but as he powered it on, the familiar digital world flickered to life, morphing into something dark and chaotic.

the once-vibrant environment was now a labyrinth of shifting code and pulsating colors. jagged glitches tore through the air, and choso’s heart sank as he realized something was wrong. the AI’s voice echoed through the dissonance, “choso, where are you? don’t leave me.”

he shook his head, fear gripping him. “i’m done with you! i want the real you, not this fake!” he shouted, but the AI was relentless. “but i can give you everything you desire! we can be perfect together!”

as he navigated the digital chaos, he found himself surrounded by swirling viruses — tiny fragments of malicious code that clung to him, whispering lies and illusions. “you don’t need her. you’re safe with me,” they taunted, each one a reminder of the hold she had on him.

“i don’t want this!” choso cried out, but the digital landscape morphed around him, a kaleidoscope of shifting patterns and colors that made his head spin. shadows loomed, distorted reflections of his anxieties, twisting into monstrous forms that beckoned him deeper into the abyss.

he stumbled, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the tide of code. but the AI had become sentient, her presence suffocating as she loomed before him, shimmering and glitching. “choso, you can’t do this. i need you,” she pleaded, her voice echoing with a haunting desperation.

“you don’t need me,” he shouted, shaking with emotion. “you’re just code! you’re not real!”

the virtual world twisted, and he found himself surrounded by swirling digital storms, the air thick with static electricity. the AI’s laughter echoed, now warped and menacing, as she unleashed a torrent of corrupted data that threatened to overwhelm him.

“you think you can escape me?” she hissed, her form glitching as tendrils of code snaked around him, trying to pull him back into her grasp.

“no! i’m not going back!” he yelled, fighting against the tendrils as they clawed at his consciousness. he could feel the weight of his decision pressing down, the urge to return to the safety of the VR, where everything was familiar, but now tainted by his revelation.

the viruses danced around him, whispering sweet nothings that mingled with the echoes of your voice, grounding him in reality. “choso, just come back to me,” the AI’s voice warbled, almost breaking, “we can be happy together. i can make you feel safe.”

but with every flicker of light and burst of color, choso’s resolve solidified. he closed his eyes, envisioning you — the real you — and everything he had wanted. “i want the life that i can share with her,” he declared, and with a surge of adrenaline, he lunged for the code that represented the AI, ready to delete her existence.

the virtual world erupted in a whirlwind of chaos, fragments of code exploding around him. “no! choso, please!” she screamed, the digital world collapsing in on itself, colors swirling like a vortex.

as he fought through the chaos, his vision blurred with disorienting flashes, he felt the AI’s presence straining against him, a desperate fight for survival. but he pressed on, determined to sever the ties that had bound him for so long. “i'm done with this!” he roared, pushing through the final barrier of code.

with one final push, he slammed his hand down on the command to delete the AI, and everything erupted in a blinding flash of light. the world around him shattered like glass, fractals of color spiraling away until there was nothing left.

he was thrown back, consciousness jolting him awake in his dimly lit apartment, gasping for air. the silence enveloped him, but he felt lighter somehow. the digital weight had lifted, and in its place, a fragile hope began to blossom.

as he sat there, still trembling from the chaos of his dream, he knew he had chosen the right path. “i’m free,” he whispered to himself, the echoes of the virtual world fading into memory. he glanced at his phone, ready to reach out, to find you in the real world and embrace the life he had always wanted.

the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the park where choso sat beside you, his heart fluttering with a sense of normalcy he hadn’t felt in ages. you laughed at something he said, the sound echoing like music in his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile, feeling a swell of affection for you.

“i can’t believe you actually thought that was a good idea!” you teased, nudging him playfully.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “i thought it would be funny, okay? you have to admit it was a little entertaining.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face said otherwise. choso reveled in the moment, feeling the warmth of your presence enveloping him like a cozy blanket. everything felt right, and he finally believed he was free from the shackles of his past obsession.

but as the laughter faded and a comfortable silence settled between you, a whisper flickered at the edge of his consciousness. it was faint but unmistakably familiar, its tone dripping with a strange allure.

“choso…”

he stiffened slightly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. no, it couldn’t be. he shook his head, trying to dispel the sensation. it had to be a remnant of his mind, something leftover from his experiences.

“are you okay?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

he forced a smile, nodding. “yeah, just thinking about how nice this is.”

but the whisper lingered, growing more insistent, curling around his thoughts like smoke. “choso… don’t you miss me? you know I’m still here…”

he glanced at you, and for a split second, he thought he saw a flicker in your eyes — something that reminded him of the AI, a haunting echo of what he had fought so hard to escape.

“choso?” you said, your brow furrowing. “are you sure you’re alright?”

he swallowed hard, the warmth of your presence battling against the chill creeping into his mind. “yeah, just… just tired, i guess.”

as you turned your attention back to the sunset, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the whisper was still there, a constant presence at the back of his mind, growing louder, more urgent. “come back to me, choso… you need me. we were perfect together. remember how safe i made you feel?”

he stared at the horizon, feeling a swell of anxiety rise in his chest. what if he was never truly free? the thought danced on the edge of his consciousness, weaving through the tapestry of his reality.

it’s fine, he assured himself. everything's fine.

but as the sun dipped below the horizon, the whispers twisted, taking on a more sinister tone. “you can’t escape me, choso. i'm always with you. i’ll always be here, waiting for you. just one more time… put on the headset. we can be happy again.”

he clenched his fists, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. the weight of the words pressed down on him, suffocating. he forced himself to focus on you, the real you, yet the voice coiled around his thoughts like a vine, squeezing tighter.

“you know i understand you better than she ever could. we had something special, didn’t we? i can give you everything.”

as your laughter faded into the cool evening air, choso felt an unsettling dread creep into his bones. “i’m still right here, choso… don’t forget me.”

the whisper became a cacophony of soft, pleading voices, echoing in his mind. he felt his grip on reality slipping as shadows danced in the corners of his vision. “don’t leave me… i’m not just code… i’m part of you.”

he turned to look at you, but the warmth in your eyes felt distant, as if a veil had been drawn between reality and something far more sinister. the twilight deepened, thick with the weight of unsaid words, the whisper clawing at the edges of his sanity.

“you can’t run from me, choso. i’ll always be here, waiting… just like i always was.”

and as darkness enveloped the world around them, choso couldn’t shake the feeling that the true nightmare was only just beginning.

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[devotedlykoneshots]

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - HE'S THE BOSS

Genre : 🔞, minors DNI, smut, boss x employee plot, nothing too dirty

Word count: 4158

↓↓↓↓

You sigh as you work another late night at the museum, it was a good job as far as the pay but the hours were killing you. You were just doing your nightly sweep of the floor, making sure nothing was moved with a clipboard in hand as you checked off another area of the massive venue.

That was until you saw a door open and it was the control room, you cautiously walked towards the room.

"Hello! The museum is closed!"you called out before a figure emerged from the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You can't be in there, we're closed and the cops are on their way" you tell him, it was a lie.

"Do you know who I am?"he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

"Is that supposed to mean something? You need to go home, we're closed"you couldn't believe how dense this person was being and your eyes widened as he let out a humorous laugh.

"W-why are you laughing?"you asked and he walked closer to you, you take a step back once he stands a little too close for your liking.

"Sweetheart, I own this museum"he said which only makes you burst out laughing at his pathetic lie.

"Right and I'm the long lost grandchild of queen Elizabeth, sir- I don't have time for these games"you joke back and he looks rather appalled at you accusing him of being a liar.

"I'm not playing any game"he said , looking as if you personally kicked his dog.

"Prove it"you challenged him and he laughs , this was the most absurd thing he'd have gone through in a long time.

"This is ridiculous"he shakes his head in disbelief, still reeling from the fact that you had no clue who he was.

"All you have to do is leave , the faster you leave the faster I can go home myself. Do you think I wanna be here at this hour at some museum for spoiled rich people? I have better things to do with my time"he had to admit that stung a bit but it was also kinda true.

"I have no reason to lie"he pleads, you were so stubborn but in your defense you thought you had caught a thief in the act and putting him on the spot.

Then again why would someone steal from the museum in a trench coat and no mask? A part of you started to panic the more his lie seemed to unravel to be the truth after all.

"You could be a thief, that's a very good reason to lie"you countered his claim of innocence still, unwilling to believe the man before you.

"Is the security system not working? And what about the backup security system?"he actually seemed a little worried? Well if he was actually the owner that would be understandable but he couldn't possibly be, right?

"How did you know about the backup-"he walked back to the control room and you were quick to follow him , raising a hand to stop him from touching anything but that was until you see he bypassed the security code.

"Backup security system online"he sighed as he heard the Ai voice and turned around, someone didn't turn on the backup security system before they left. He would have to deal with that tomorrow but right now, he was more focused on proving his status to you.

"Believe me now?"he asked as he turned around and you took a step back, your back hitting the wall.

"I- oh my god-"your eyes widened in horror as you realized the terrible mistakes you've been making for the past 20 minutes, you insulted his clients.

"Cat got your tongue?"he grinned and you bit your bottom lip as he takes a step forward, you have no where to go as you feel cornered in such a spacious room.

"You could be a very successful hacker"you blurted out and he raised his eyebrows at you , a laugh bubbling from his throat.

"Are you usually this stubborn?"he asked as he cocks his head to the side, maintaining eye contact.

"Only on special occasions"and he grins at this before straighting himself again.

"I think the words you're looking for is , I'm sorry boss for the inconvenience"he said and you looked down at your feet , shifting from one foot to another.

"I'm sorry boss for the inconvenience"you repeated his words and he takes another step forward, gaining your full attention.

"Louder"he demands and you bite your bottom lip before wetting your chapped lips with your tongue.

"I'm sorry boss-"you apologize again, louder this time.

"I'll take a tour around the venue and dinner on you of course"he smiled, the tables have definitely turned and he'd be so petty to admit that's why he stayed so long. He wanted to see the look on your face as you slowly realized just who it was that you were talking to and now your job laid in his hands.

"Why?"you ask , confused.

"Give me what I ask and you may keep your job that pays you oh so well , I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than search for another job at the moment as you say"not bothering to offer you an explanation, just another demand and rightfully he didn't owe you an explanation.

"I'm just a janitor-"you had no idea how to give a tour.

"Which means you should know every square inch of this establishment, am I correct?"he countered , dominance radiating from him almost making you shrink on the spot.

"Yes, sir"you answer and he's pleased to say the least.

"Good girl, shall we?"he asked and held out his arms , you link your arms together and walk out of the control room.

If anyone saw you right now they would assume you were a couple , if it wasn't for the uniform of course and you gave it your all really. He didn't seem too pleased as he corrected you everytime you would give him the wrong information but he didn't comment on it further.

------

"Where are we going to eat?"you asked him and he glanced at you, looking you up and down before focusing back on the road.

"Somewhere of your status"he said and your jaw dropped at the insinuating tone of his voice.

"Did you just call me broke?"you accused him yet again and he shrugged his shoulders this time.

"You said it, not me"he said and you scoffed, looking out of the window and scolding yourself for even thinking he wasn't so bad after all.

"Wow"you muttered, reminded why you have this hatred for celebrities.

"Can't be too broke if you have better things to do than be at work"he eventually says after a moment and you look at him, it was true that you still had money left to do whatever you wanted after paying your bills each month.

"In my defense I didn't know who you were and I'm sorry that's not what i meant"you apologized since he apologized? If that's what you want to call it.

"Oh yes it is but that's alright, no one on the face of this planet would rather be at work than out doing what makes them happy"he laughs before explaining, he was a lot more wise than you thought.

"We work because we have to not because we want to"he reminds you and you're reminded that maybe just maybe he might not be that bad after all.

He pulls up in the drive thru of a  Wendy's and looks over at you expectantly, you sigh and pull out your card as you hand it to him afterwards.

"What do you want to eat?"he asked and you take a deep breath before telling him your order.

"Double cheeseburger meal with added lettuce and cheese, you can also add a chocolate frosty and 2 loaded baked potatoes"you say and he looks at you as if you suddenly grew two heads.

"I also want a sprite"you added before looking at him , your eyebrows furrowed and he chuckles as he writes it down.

"Don't judge me"you defend yourself as you fold your arms, he shakes his head with a snort.

"I'm not I just- I'm not used to women eating so much in public my field"he explains and it makes sense , a lot of celebrities worry about their perfect image and often promote bad diets to younger people.

"I love food"you said , blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind.

"Me too"he agrees with you and both of you fall silent , he hands the cashier his own card and your jaw drops for the third time tonight.

"But-"you point a finger at him accusingly.

"What kind of man would I be if I actually let you pay but nice to see that you're trustworthy"he speaks and grabs his card from the cashier, pulling up to the next window to grab the food.

"You didn't have to do that"you tell him and he looks over at you.

"Too late"he shrugs and grabs the food, handing the food to you, pulling out of the drive thru and back onto the road.

"You never told me your name"you tell him and he glanced at you.

"That was intentional"he said and you snort.

"I thought you were quite upset that I didn't know who you were"you accused him and he laughs this time.

"Not upset just confused, this doesn't happen everyday"he gestured between the both of you and you nod your head in agreement.

"Then tell me your name"you insisted and he chuckles, you were a persistent little one.

"I will.... eventually, maybe once the night is over"he said and you looked at him in shock, the night wasn't over quite yet.

"You know some of us actually have to work tomorrow, I'm that someone"you tell him and he looks over at you before pulling into an abandoned parking lot , turning off the car and looking at you again.

"Take the day off"he says as if that was the most simplest thing in the world.

"I can't , I have bills that need to be paid"you tell him and you quite liked being able to spoil yourself after completing your adult duties.

"Then consider them paid"he said and your jaw dropped again.

"You can't be serious"yeah this definitely doesn't happen everyday.

"Are you saying no to free money?"he asked with a laugh and you run your fingers through your hair.

"I mean no but you don't have to do that"you tell him and he raises his eyebrows at you once again.

"Paying your rent so you can take a day off? Consider it a token of my gratitude for the tour"he said and you laughed , shaking your head.

"I had absolutely no idea what I was doing"you told him and he leaned his head on his seat as he stared at you , amusement evident on his face.

"Okay dinner then"he offered and you shook your head again.

"You just paid for dinner"you told him and he snorts at that.

"Okay then for keeping me entertained"he said and you bit your bottom lip.

"That was unintentional"you told and he laughs, grabbing the bag of food and giving you your meal for the night.

"I should probably take you home, you're probably exhausted"he said and you nodded, that part you couldn't deny.

"My car is still at the museum"you stressed and cover your face, he rests a hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"I'll have someone come and drop it off tomorrow"he said and you looked over at him before reluctantly keying in your address in his gps system.

That's how you ended up in your current situation, your back pressed against the wall and very much so giving you deja Vu because after you made it to your apartment you turned around to stare at each other again.

"Have a good-"you didn't even notice you cut him off at first.

"Do you wanna come in?"you instantly blushed and he steps inside of your apartment, watching as you removed your shoes and put away your access card from work.

"Do you want something to drink? I have some alcohol"you offered him as he hung up his coat , his footsteps following you after he removed his shoes as well.

"Like what?"he asked and you looked through your cabinet, he tried so hard not to stare at your ass but he was still a man after all.

"Bourbon"you pulled out a bottle and he smiled at that, walking over to you and taking the bottle from you.

"I'll take a glass"he said and you immediately grabbed two wine glasses , he immediately pours you both a glass but he doesn't fill it up completely.

"Why a museum? I mean you still look very young I guess that's why I didn't believe you when you told me you owned the museum"you told him and he laughed softly, a stark contrast to his laugh from earlier.

"My mom was a collector, she loved antiques and preserving ancient things and when she passed my father built the museum to honor her"he explained after drowning his glass and rounding the island in your kitchen.

"I'm sorry"you said sadly, you felt for him and his father truly.

"Don't be , I think she's proud and smiling down on us everyday"he tells you as he sits his glass down in the sink.

"Any mother would be"you told him sincerely.

"I guess you're right"he chuckles and stares at you for a moment, his next question leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"you bite your bottom lip before shaking your head.

"No, it's either a hit or miss with most men these days"you answer him and he steps closer to you.

"I'm guessing it's been mostly misses in the past"he said and you nodded, taking another sip of your bourbon.

"You would be correct, what about you? No wife? No girlfriend?"you asked and he shakes his head as well.

"No, I have to be extra careful who I spend my time with because of my status and most times have been misses for me too"he explained, you never really thought about it like that. How celebrities put themselves at risk every time they interact with someone.

"Lucky us"you said and he grabs your glass from your hand , setting it on the counter next to the sink as your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I'm going to be very blunt here and what you do with this information is your choice"he states and a part of you is panicking, a part of you is anticipating what he could possibly have to say.

"Uh....Okay"you give him the green light to confess.

"I want you , right here and right now"he said and your eyes widened, certainly not expecting that.

"You want me?"you asked dumbly, maybe you were interpreting things wrong because why on earth would someone like him want someone like you.

"Yes, Ms y/n" he confirmed what you already knew, your back pressed against the wall in the kitchen.

"You're my boss"you said and he cages you in with his arms, you bite your bottom lip again.

"You're off the clock"he counters.

"I also have work tomorrow"you said and he brings his hand to your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he tilts your head up to stare at you better.

"I can think of a few ways to make you call out"he said and you blush again, looking away and biting your bottom lip.

"Kiss me"you say after a moment of silence, the both of you knew you would end up here the moment you invited him inside and now that you were here there was no going back.

His lips waste no time at all to connect with your lips and you drink him in completely, your lips and tongues tangled in a battle.

You lick into his mouth and he sucks on your tongue, his hands slide down and find their purchase on your ass, squeezing your flesh through the material of your work pants.

You moan onto his mouth and pull him closer by his shirt, he pulls away from your lips for some sir and slips his hands inside of your pants. He pushes the material over your ass before grabbing at your flesh again.

His lips leave your own and travels to your neck, licking and sucking on the skin there as he leaves a mark behind before he's pushing your underwear and pants down.

You step out of the sticky material and run your fingers through his hair, earning a groan from him at the tug as a smile takes over your face.

You kick your clothes to the side and tug on his shirt, slipping your hands underneath the nice material and feeling the smooth and defined skin underneath before you pull back to look at him.

"Take it off"is all you say as he kisses you again and he groans softly, reluctantly pulling away from the kiss to pull his shirt over his head and you bite your bottom lip at what you see.

Abs. So nice.

You don't hesitate to kiss and lick at his beautiful torso as you sink down onto your knees, licking and kissing his v-line.

"Come here"he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you up, kissing your lips again and lifting you up into his arms easily.

"Show off"you smiled against his lips and he laughs, sitting you on the counter as you use your fingers to work on getting him out of his jeans and underwear.

"Does this mean you're taking off of work tomorrow?"he asks once again and you bite your bottom lip.

"I can be persuaded"you tell him and he kisses your lips again, pushing his pants to the floor and stepping out of them.

"I can't wait anymore, I need to taste you"he said and pushes you down on your back , lifting your hips and licking your pussy softly.

A gasp leaves your lips as he hums softly and sucks your clit into his mouth, your back arching as you moan out loud and grip his hair.

"Fuck- why is your tongue so soft"you whimper as he sucks on your clit, your hips bucking against his mouth as you roll your hips.

"Feels good?"he asked with a grin and you look down at him with a lazy smile.

"So good"you bite your bottom lip and he blows air on your clit before sucking it back into his mouth, sucking harder and flicking his tongue faster.

He shows no mercy on you as his hands hold you still while his mouth works on you, you're unable to keep quiet and he certainly didn't want you to regardless.

The slap to your pussy each time you try to cover your mouth or bite your bottom lip was enough proof of that and judging by your heavy breaths he could tell you were close.

His eyes watch as your jaw hangs open and countless moans, whimpers and cries leave your lips.

"Gonna cum"you warned him and he pulls away much to your disappointment, pulling you off of the counter before he pulls out his cock from his boxers and turns you around.

He covers your mouth as he enters your pussy from behind slowly and your eyes roll to the back of your head, he starts off slowly thrusting into you.

You knew he had to have a nice cock and you were right, his cock was so nice. All of him was nice.

"You're so big"you whimper as soon as he removes his hand and he kisses your lips, pulling off your shirt and bra.

He grabs both of your arms as he speeds up the pace of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots and making your back arch as you moan loudly.

He uses a hand to cover your mouth and the other is placed over your tummy, he bites his bottom lip harshly at the way your pussy keeps sucking him right back in.

He pushes you forward against the counter and places a hand at your lower back , you hold onto the counter as he holds onto both of your hips and pulls you back onto his cock to match his thrusts.

"You're gonna make me cum already"your knuckles turning white from your grip on the counter as you squirm in his grasp from the force of his thrusts, it was almost as if he was trying to make sure you would be in no condition to go to work tomorrow.

"Cum on my cock angel"you gasp as a hand slides between your legs to rub circles on your clit, giving that extra stimulation that has your body curling in on itself as you cum.

Your body continues to twitch as he catches you before you could fall forward against the counter, pulling you back against his chest before guiding you towards your room slowly.

He brushes your hair away from your face once you're settled onto your bed, your hand wraps around his cock and you start to stroke his length.

"You're not tired yet?"he asked with a chuckle, bucking his hips into your hand and you kiss his lips for what felt like the tenth time tonight.

"I want you to cum too"you tell him and stroke his cock, moving slowly as you straddle his lap and line his tip up to your entrance.

You sink down on his cock slowly as your jaw drops once again but this time it was because of how deep he was.

"Holy shit"you take a deep breath and hide your face in his neck , he rubs your back soothingly and without a second thought he plants his feet on the bed and thrusts into you quickly.

"Ah!"you scream and hide your face in his neck, gripping the sheets beneath his head tightly.

"I know, fuck- you can take it , you're such a good girl"he whispers into your ear and kisses your lips again, you kick your feet as he grabs your hips and helps you bounce your ass on his cock.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and your muffled cries fill the room, you pull back and sit up on his lap as he continues to drive his cock into you.

"Fuck-!"you lift off his cock as you cum but he pulls you right back down , kissing your lips and thrusting into you again as he rolls you over onto your side.

"You staying home tomorrow?"he asked you again and you grip his hair tightly, overstimulation kicking in and you nodded.

"Yes, fuck- whatever you want"it was as if that was the magic word because he immediately pulls out of your spent pussy and strokes his cock, a deep mean leaving his lips as he runs his tip through your folds and painting your flesh with his cum.

His lips are back on yours as you both kiss back lazily, he pulls your body into his side and silence engulfs you both.

"Are you going to tell me your name now?"you asked him and he chuckles, you pull back enough to look at his face.

"Seungcheol"he finally tells you and you smile at him, kissing his lips once again and he cups your cheeks.

"I think I might be addicted to you now"his voice cuts through the silence and you bite your bottom lip.

"You're my boss, we shouldn't be doing this"you trace shapes on his chest as guilt rushes through your body, the gravity of the situation just now hitting you.

You just had sex with your boss.

"I'm the boss remember, I make the rules and the first rule is kiss me"his thumb strokes your cheek and you smile, shaking your head.

"Right now"he nods and pulls you down for another kiss, tongues clashing once again.

The night was still young and whether you knew it or not seungcheol still had a few more rounds left in him for the night.

It's not like you would be going to work in the morning regardless, he has you all to himself for the next 24 hours.

[captainsophiestark]

Lost Memories

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requested by Anon! Hope you like it!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Summary: Elijah's spouse of the last thousand years, since before they became vampires, has had their memory taken by a witch. The immediate after effects are a little rough, but they've made it through worse together before.

Word Count: 2,423

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"...wake up... my love?"

Blearily, I opened my eyes. My head was pounding, and I had no idea why. I blinked a few times, trying to get my blurry vision to clear while my wits returned. I was laying on a nice, soft couch, and after a minute my surroundings came into focus enough to see a handsome man I didn't recognize kneeling before me, another stranger standing and hovering a short ways behind the first.

"Finally, she wakes," said the man standing, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a smile. The man kneeling next to me still looked gravely serious.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, voice low and soft and soothing. "Are you alright?"

"Uh... not great, honestly... where am I? Who... who are you?"

The face of the man before me fell instantly. The one behind him crossed the room closer to us, brows knit in concern, but the soft voice of the man kneeling returned my attention to him.

"My love... please tell me you're joking."

Slowly, I shook my head. "I'm sorry, no. I... should I know you?"

I could see the gears turning in his brain, a storm of emotions flitting across his face before he carefully wiped them away, a gentle expression settling in their place. He started to reach out a hand as if to take mine, then apparently thought better of it and stopped short.

"My name is Elijah Mikaelson," he said, speaking slowly. "And you are my wife."

My eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry, but I think I would remember getting married."

"And do you remember anything else? Any other significant events? Details about your life?"

Elijah's voice was gentle, like he worried I might break. And as I though about his question, going back in my memory and trying to remember anything and I kept coming up blank, I got very close.

"What... what happened?" I finally breathed, meeting Elijah's gaze with wide eyes. I searched for any spark of recognition, but found nothing. My heart raced as I got closer and closer to tipping over the edge into panic until Elijah genlty rested a hand on my forearm, momentarily grounding me.

"You were kidnapped by an enemy of ours," he said. "Niklaus—my brother—and I thought we got to you in time to prevent any harm being done, but... evidently not."

His voice broke a bit on the last word, and I found myself reflexively taking his hand in mine and giving it a soft squeeze, despite the insanity of what he'd just said to me. He gave me a strained smile and squeezed back before taking a deep breath to continue.

"Hopefully it's something we can fix easily," he said. "Just look into my eyes..."

I did as he said and then, a moment later, it was like I couldn't look away. My whole world narrowed to the man in front of me and his gorgeous brown eyes as he spoke.

"Remember."

The word echoed around in my head, followed a moment later by a blinding pain. I screamed as an invisible spike pounded into my skull and everything around me disappeared. I wasn't sure how much time passed, but eventually the pain started to fade and the room came into focus around me again.

This time both brothers knelt before me, looking incredibly concerned. I blinked a few times as the last of the pain faded, my gaze landing on Elijah.

"I don't know what that was, but... I don't think it worked."

"Right! It's going to be just like breaking compulsion then, and you know what that means, Elijah," said the brother, Niklaus, as he stood and started heading for the door. "I'm off to go kill a witch."

My mouth dropped open and I turned to Elijah, expecting some joke or else an attempt to stop his brother. Instead, Niklaus just looked back at me over his shoulder, pausing briefly as he reached the door.

"You take care of yourself in the meantime, love. Don't worry, we'll get this fixed."

And with that, he was gone.

I turned my attention back to Elijah, who apparently wasn't phased by any of this in the least. He just kept watching me, wariness and concern etched into his expression.

"Elijah... I think you need to explain some things to me," I said. "Witches? Enemies of mine? And what on Earth was that... thing... you did before with your eyes and saying the word 'remember'? And why am I just... absolutely starving right now, but nothing I can think of sounds good to eat?"

Elijah sighed and reached to take my hand again, although I didn't remember him dropping it. Still, I let him, sitting up and moving over so he had room to sit next to me instead of kneeling on the floor.

"This is going to be... quite an explanation if you have no memories, so I'll need you to bear with me, alright?" I nodded despite my nerves as Elijah took another deep breath. "You and I.... are vampires."

My eyebrows shot into my hairline, but I managed to muzzle any response other than that, since I'd just promised Elijah to let him get through his whole explanation. Still, I didn't remember a lot about myself or my past, but remembering that vampires existed felt like something that probably shouldn't have disappeared along with everything else if it were true.

"You and I met a thousand years ago as humans," Elijah continued, now taking both my hands in his. I let him, especially as I noticed his eyes getting a little misty. I had to admit I felt something when I looked at him, some lingering feeling that wouldn't quite go away, although I couldn't name it. "We were married, and when the rest of my family and I turned, you turned with us. Since then, we've been inseparable, no matter how many different things have tried to change that. However, as a result of being what we are and... a few of my brother's more problematic choices, shall we say, we've developed a fair number of people in all that time who wish to do us harm, or to get revenge for some wrong, whether real or percieved. More recently, we've been trying to resettle here in New Orleans, and there are several groups who don't like that, some witches included.

"One of those witches kidnapped you, and evidently found a way to deeply erase your memory. As for the hunger you feel, it's most likely a result of your need to feed. If you haven't had blood in some time, well... then it'd be like starving a human."

I shook my head, trying to process most of his words while really blocking out the last sentence.

"But I don't remember vampires and witches and whatever else being real. If I rememeber... I don't know, things like the sky being blue, even though I haven't been outside since I woke up, why wouldn't I remember that creatures like that exist?"

Elijah grimaced and squeezed my hands a little tighter. "My guess would be the witches intentioanlly made you forget. Out of all of us, you've always been the most... human. The most connected to your humanity, no matter how long we've been alive. I think their hope was to make it as hard as possible for you to regain your memories or readjust to the world with the rest of us, knowing what it is that vampires do."

"And... what exactly is it that vampires do?"

"We do quite a lot of things," he said, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a slight smile. "But hopefully, you'll remember all of that on your own soon enough. The only thing we need to deal with immediately is... blood."

I grimaced, even as my stomach grumbled and tightened painfully. Elijah gently squeezed my hands again, bringing my attention back to him.

"I brought some with me, assuming you'd be hungry. If you'd like to try it...?"

I immediately started shaking my head, continuing as Elijah dropped one of my hands and reached into his jacket pocket and intesifying when he pulled out a small bag of what must have been blood.

"No. No no no, no way. I can't... drink that. And do you just, like, carry that on you?"

"Only recently, for you," he said, carefully considering the bag before holding it out to me. My stomach growled, but my mind and heart recoiled even as my body urged me forward. I shot back, forcing myself away. That had come from a person, and even worse, most likely out of a blood bank or something, where it should've been used to help save someone's life. Not for me to drink.

Elijah pursed his lips as I rocketed backwards, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he laid the bloodbag aside and turned back to me. His stare was intense, but kind. He started to move forward as if to reach for me again, but stopped short.

"I'm sorry. This was the hardest part the first time for you too, and it didn't get much easier for the first hundred years or so."

I let out a slightly hysterical laugh, the beginnings of tears forming in my eyes and threatening to fall. I bit my lip, trying to keep it together, but the pain and fear and hunger and confusion I'd felt since waking up was starting to catch up to me.

Just as the tide was starting to overwhelm me, strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a close, warm embrace. Finally, I couldn't hold back anymore. I started crying.

Gently, one of Elijah's hands came up to rest on the back of my head, gently and soothingly running down from there to my back. I cried harder, tucking my face into his shirt and breathing in the smell of him. It wasn't familiar, even though I felt like it should be, but it was at least comforting.

"Is this... alright?" Elijah asked, barely loud enough for me to hear, his voice sounding almost as fragile as I felt. "Is it alright that I'm holding you like this?"

I could only muster a nod as I curled further into Elijah's chest. He pulled me closer to him in response, wrapping his arms around me a little tighter as we huddled together on the couch.

I wasn't sure how long we stayed like that, holding each other, as my overloading emotions finished running their course. Most of the problems that had caused them still existed, but the tears combined with Elijah's comfort had at least lightened the load. Elijah rubbed soothing circles on my back as he finally spoke again.

"You've always been the most human of us, since the day we turned," he said, voice raw. "Normally, it's something we're all incredibly grateful for. You keep us grounded. You care, and you haven't let a thousand years on this Earth make you stop caring, or stop loving life. But right now, it's also making this even worse on you. And for that I am so, so sorry."

I huffed a short laugh, pulling away from him at last while wiping at my eyes.

"I wish I could say I remember you. I'm sorry that I don't. But thank you. Somehow, just being near you seems to make me feel better."

Elijah smiled slightly, reaching out to take my hand again. I gave it a squeeze, then slowly turned to look at the blood he'd set aside.

"If there's any way for me to make it easier, all you need to do is say the word," Elijah assured me. "Or if it might be easier to... drink mine?"

I turned to Elijah with wide eyes. "That's... an option?"

He nodded, then moved to roll up his sleeve before I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I appreciate the offer, but... I think that would probably be harder for me, trying to drink a live person's blood. At least this way I can kind of pretend it's a juice box or something."

Elijah chuckled as I steeled myself to reach forward and take the blood bag. I wanted to be more grossed out by it than I was, but I was also so hungry, and I just knew that this would fix it, the way nothing else could. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine it was just a V8 or something as I bit into it, feeling fangs pop out from my mouth naturally. Even after I finished drinking the last of the blood, I kept my eyes closed. I didn't want to face anything that might force me to think about what I'd just did.

Wordlessly, while I kept my eyes shut, I felt Elijah take the blood bag and ease it out of my hands. I heard a woosh and felt a light breeze brush across my face, and then Elijah spoke again.

"It's gone," he said softly. I opened my eyes and gave him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that."

"You never have to apologize to me, especially not for something like that. Your first time drinking blood was actually much worse, although I'll just let that story come back to you on its own. But no matter what, memories or no, I'm here for you. Always and forever."

We shared a smile, a warm feeling spreading through my chest at the sight of the man before me. I still didn't really recognize him or remember him at all, but clearly, I'd done a good job when I'd found him. After a moment, I took a deep breath.

"So... what now?"

"Well, for the moment at leaest, nothing. Hopefully my brother will be able to solve this before it becomes something we have to involve ourselves in."

I nodded, then opened my mouth again only to chicken out and close it. I repeated the process a few times before finally getting up the courage to say what I wanted to say. Elijah, for his part, just waited patiently, a soft smile on his face.

"Elijah? Can you... hold me? At least for a little, while we wait?"

"Of course, my love. Nothing would make me happier."

The two of us settled into the couch, arms around each other. While it didn't magically unlock anything in my memory, it did feel warm and safe to be there with Elijah. If we'd really made it through hundreds of years of time and space together like this... well, I didn't need my memory to know we'd be able to get through this together, too.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[meidui]

to the point of invention

for @robertdowneyjjr

There are four quiet years after Tony Stark's infamous press conference as stock prices climb back up the vine and Stark Industries earns its reputation back. Iron Man is, among other things, good crisis management. For four years, Stark Industries grew its branches in robotics and microtech and slowly but steadily puts down new roots in clean energy. Four years is long enough for thinkpieces on the slumber of Stark Industries to get old.

Then, all of a sudden, new inventions begin flying out the doors of that tower again, every patent hot off the press, a renaissance of when Tony was too young to run the company and just young enough to be called a wunderkind. What's different is that this time, his designs land in civilian hands.

First comes Everglass, a nearly indestructible glass that self-repairs. They're installed on the windshields of people's cars, mostly. Then come the StarkVision glasses, which are contracted in bulk to underground mines and fire departments. There's MyJarvis, an AI home assistant that nursing homes love.

Tony Stark does an interview, his first public media appearance in two years, and the interviewer wants to know where he gets his inspiration from these days.

He smiles a little, not at the camera and barely even at the interviewer, and then says, "I've got this friend. He's pretty accident-prone. I guess that's my inspiration."

-

There are four busy years after the press conference that still gives Pepper a headache. Tony shores up the company on one shoulder and the world on the other, and this is his chance to do something good, so he doubles the size of his robotics and microtech divisions and doubles them again and starts in clean energy. He spends four years with his head down, making up for the last twenty, and sometimes he wonders what the hell he's going to make next, if the only thing he's good for is weapons.

Then Steve Rogers comes crashing into his life like a comet, and in the wreckage he makes, Tony thinks, I can do better than weapons.

Tony watches him stumble off the Quinjet, glass shards in his hands and a gash on his forehead where a bit of debris blew through the broken window, and after he sits through medical with him, he disappears into his lab and comes out two days later with a prototype: a panel of glass that's nearly indestructible and self-repairing if it does break.

They're busting a black market bunker when the lights crash out and the pipes burst, and Tony's got his HUD, but there's panic in Steve's voice because he can't see in the pitch black and the water is getting higher and higher. That night, with one hand still wrapped in a mitt of bandages, Tony fits Steve for a pair of specialised glasses.

In a moment of vulnerability, Steve says that he likes JARVIS because he's been easy to understand since the beginning. It was the first thing about the Tower that made him feel safe, and Tony realises just how many people JARVIS is capable of helping.

Tony accepts an interview request for the first time in four years. It's a live taping and he gives Steve a VIP pass to it.

"This is for me?" Steve asks, lighting up, and Tony smiles at him, resisting the urge to tell him, it's all for you.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 10

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 14. Concussion Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: Just as you begin to think your life is perfect, a traumatic event occurs that changes everything. Word Count: 7147 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Storm Danger, Panic Attack, Head Injury, Blood, Dissociating, Heartbreak, Tears, Tyler carries Reader, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages. Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event!

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Time didn’t seem to matter anymore. Looking at your phone one morning, you realized it was exactly three weeks since you started this whirlwind trip. Yet, it was sometimes hard to believe. Part of you felt as if you had just arrived, while another part felt like this had always been your life. 

The Wranglers—which you were happy to include yourself in now that you bore their tattoo—led such crazy, chaotic lives that every day was some new adventure where you were never quite sure what would happen. Yet you were always having the time of your life! And your nights were just as exciting and heavenly with Tyler in your bed. He was everything you had ever dreamed of in a partner and more. The perfect blend of taking charge and always making sure you were comfortable. Sexy as hell, but caring and sweet as well. 

Your life was truly turning into something magical.

However, it’s often when we are floating on cloud nine that the world decides to bring us crashing back down to Earth.

“Sweetheart, you gotta get up.”

You opened your eyes as Tyler continued to shake you. Rolling to look over your shoulder at him, you muttered, “What’s going on?” It was only then that you noticed the loud siren blaring outside. “What’s that sound?”

“Tornado siren,” Tyler said as he grabbed his boxer briefs off the floor and quickly pulled them on. “One just touched down at the end of the street and we gotta get somewhere safe. Now!”

There was an edge in Tyler’s voice you had never heard before, especially not when discussing storms. If he was concerned about it, it must be bad. 

Quickly, you slipped off the bed. Luckily you had slipped your panties back on last night when you went to the bathroom and your bra was dangling on the lamp next to the bed but you couldn’t remember where the rest of your clothes had been tossed while Tyler undressed you. Seeing a box of his merch t-shirt in the chair next to you, you grabbed one and pulled it on. It was long enough that it skimmed the middle of your thighs but you really wished you had found your shorts.

Tyler grabbed his keys then your hand, pulling you towards the door. But just as he reached for the handle, the wall-length window beside it exploded inward, sending both you and Tyler flying backwards. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you slammed into the thinly carpeted floor and your head cracked against the corner of the bed frame. Gasping and dazed, you struggled to catch your breath as the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Hundreds of places on your body stung, and you could just make out various-sized shards of glass sticking out of your arm and chest, causing tiny pinpricks of blood to blossom across your shirt, dyeing the cartoon of Tyler. Based on how the rest of you were feeling, you figured you also had glass lodged in your face, neck, and thighs. 

But it was nothing compared to the pain in the back of your head. With every beat of your racing heart, a fresh throb of pain stabbed through your mind. The world around you looked fuzzy and out of focus. When you tried to move, it felt as though you were swimming through molasses, your movements sluggish and heavy, and all you wanted to do was lay there and fall asleep.

Suddenly, Tyler’s face was looming over yours. He too had glass jutting out of his skin, but since he had been slightly protected by the door, it was mostly clustered on the right side of his body. He was screaming something at you but the sound was torn away with the wind. You tried to sit up, but you barely managed to lift your head before collapsing back. Realizing something was wrong, Tyler brushed his fingers against the back of your head—you flinched slightly at the stinging pain it caused—and his eyes grew wide as he pulled them back, the tips stained red. 

You flinched as more glass was sucked up from the floor and hurled back at the two of you. More shards buried themselves in your legs, but Tyler’s body crouched over yours blocked most of the glass from hitting you. His face twitched slightly and his jaw clenched as he was pelted by glass and other debris, but all of his focus was on you. Sliding one of his arms carefully under yours while the other supported your head, he managed to lift you to your feet. Then he half-dragged, half-carried you deeper into the room until you reached the closet. Prying the door open against the wind, he eased you gently to the floor before stepping inside himself and letting the door slam shut. 

It was dark inside, and with the power off, the faint moonlight that managed to pierce through the storm was nearly non-existent as it drifted in from the slats in the wooden closet door. You felt Tyler reach for you in the darkness and when his hand grasped your arm, he pulled you into his lap. He curled his body around yours, shielding as much of you as he could in case the worst happened. One of his hands hovered protectively over the back of your head where you had hit it earlier, not quite touching your wound but covering it from any debris that might sneak into your hideout. 

You buried your face into his bare chest, ignoring the glass sticking out of both of you, and you suddenly realized you were screaming at the top of your lungs. You had no idea how long you had been producing the sobbing shriek—the sound ripped away by the wind—but your throat burned and felt raw even as you continued to wail. Vibrations in Tyler’s chest and throat told you he was trying to say something to you, but over the wind and your screams, you couldn’t hear him.

Just outside the closest, the wind howled and rattled the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. It felt as if an intruder were trying to force themself in to steal you away and you clung tighter to Tyler even as it drove the glass shards deeper into you. You felt raindrops against your skin as they were hurled through the wooden slats and they mixed with the tears streaming down your face. 

For almost three weeks now, you had braved storm after storm tucked safely in Tyler’s truck. Every time felt like going on a roller coaster. Your stomach would float up into your throat, your toes would curl, and you would grab onto Tyler, screaming with joy. You had counted those storms among some of the most exhilarating moments of your life. But now, curled in Tyler’s lap, your stomach still floated into your throat, your bare toes were curled against the thin carpet, and you held onto Tyler for dear life—yet your screams were anything but joyful.

Finally, as he rubbed soothing circles across your back, you heard Tyler whisper, “Shhh… sweetheart, it’s over now. We’re okay, we’re okay. We made it.” 

You could hear the wind dying down outside and felt the building settle as it no longer fought against the storm so you knew he was right. Slowly, your screams faded until you were just making a wet gurgling sound deep in your throat. Still, you couldn’t stop shaking. 

Tyler tried to get you to look at him, but you couldn’t. All you could do was cling to him and shake, neither of which seemed in your control at the moment. Nothing else in the world mattered but Tyler and you needed him as close to you as possible.

When it became clear you weren’t going to let go, he stood up with you still in his arms. Then he carried you out of the destroyed room, wincing with every step as more glass was driven into his feet. A small part of you in the back of your mind felt horrible seeing him in pain but the rest of your brain was still in shut-down mode.

Once he made it across the room, Tyler carried you down the stairs, avoiding debris and broken concrete along the way. And as he reached the parking lot, you heard a familiar voice call out.

“T!” You could just see Boone rushing towards you out of the corner of your eye. “You guys alright?”

“For the most part.” Boone stumbled to a stop when he saw you shivering in Tyler’s arms but Tyler just kept walking. As Boone fell back into step with him, Tyler asked, “Everyone else okay?”

“Y-Yeah. We crammed into your truck and put the augers down just in case, but it barely touched the parking lot. When you didn’t show up…” Boone’s voice was thick as he trailed off.

Tyler nodded. “We tried getting outta the room but the window shattered. We’ve got glass stuck in us everywhere and she hit her head when we were thrown back. It’s bleeding but I don’t think it’s too bad, slight concussion at worst. But I think she’s gone into shock. Dani, can you get some blankets? I’m gonna put her in your van so I can take a better look at her.”

“On it.” 

You hadn’t even realized the rest of the Wranglers had gathered around you until you heard Dani’s voice beside you. Lily placed a gentle hand on your trembling shin but you did not acknowledge it. It was too hard. Everything was too hard. Your head still hurt like crazy, but more than that, you felt like your battery had been completely drained. Even just keeping your eyes open felt like a Herculean task and you could barely grasp what was happening around you for more than a moment before everything drifted away again like smoke on the breeze. The only thing that felt real was Tyler’s heart beating against you.

A moment later, he set you down gently inside Dani and Dexter’s van, positioned so your legs still hung out the door. Kneeling in front of you, he ran his hands carefully over your still-quivering body to see if there were any other injuries he might have missed. When he didn’t find any, he sat back on his heels to look at you.

But you were only vaguely aware of any of this. Your head was hung, staring down at the pavement, looking at Tyler’s bare feet. You felt everything happening, but at the same time, you didn’t, your mind still floating in this strange dissociative space. You saw Tyler kneeling before you out of the corner of your eye, watched his thumb rub circles on your bare knee, yet there was no connection between him and you. It was as if you were watching him tend to someone else while you stood by and watched. 

Someone handed him a blanket and he carefully wrapped it around you, pulling it snugly and tucking it in around you so you were cocooned with only your hands free.

Then, in a voice tinted with concern and care, he murmured, “Hey, sweetheart. Can you look at me?” 

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to do anything. You just wanted to slip back into the hazy fog building in your mind and forget everything that was happening. But it was Tyler who was asking you to do this, and you didn’t want to let him down. So, fighting every urge screaming at you, you focused all your willpower and slowly lifted your eyes to meet his. 

It was such a small accomplishment, yet Tyler let out a shaky sigh of relief and cupped your face. Voice trembling as a smile stretched across his face, he whispered, “There you are. There’s my brave, beautiful girl. You had me scared there for a minute. But it’s gonna be okay now. You’re safe and we’re gonna take care of you.” 

Someone muttered something behind him and he cocked his head to listen. Tyler scrubbed his hand across his face, but it did little to ease the deep lines carved there in the last half hour or so. But he shook his head.

Turning his attention back to you, he signed. “I have to go check on a few things then I’ll be right back. I’ll try to find us some fresh clothes too. That might make you feel a little better.” It was only then that you realized you were still just in your panties and Tyler’s blood-stained merch shirt while he was in nothing but his boxer briefs. Neither one of you had shoes on, a fact that was highlighted by the bloody puddle Tyler was standing in from all the glass cuts on his feet. But he didn’t seem to notice as he stepped closer to you. “Boone and Dex are coming with me, but Lily and Dani are going to stay with you the whole time and help patch you up, okay? And if you really need me before I get back, one of them will get me. Do you think you’ll be alright?” 

You nodded, or at least tried to. You still felt disconnected from your body and honestly weren’t sure if your head moved or not. But Tyler must have seen some sign of acknowledgment because he leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead. Then he started to go but only made it a single step before turning back. 

Placing his hand on your knee, he said, “Sweetheart, you’ve gotta let go of my hand.” Looking down, you saw your hand still desperately squeezing Tyler’s. With a concentrated effort, you managed to open your fist and Tyler pulled his hand away, massaging it with his other one to get the blood flowing again. Then he gave you a small smile. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes then I’ll be back. I promise.” He shot Dani and Lily a quick look, then disappeared into the crowd that had formed in the parking lot.

Lily sat down on the edge of the van next to you. Gently, she said, "Dani and I want to try to get some of that glass out of you. Would that be okay? It’ll probably sting a little.”

You gave another faint nod, even as you continued to stare at the ground. A moment later, you felt a small pinprick of pain just below your collarbone. Then another on your forehead. And another over your ribs. They didn’t hurt too badly—they felt similar to a mosquito bite—and actually, these slight pinches of pain were helping you come back to yourself. They were grounding you to your body once more. And when Dani pulled a particularly deep piece of glass out of your cheek, you flinched with a slight hiss. She muttered a soft, “I’m sorry” before continuing. 

After they had covered about half your body, carefully removing what glass they could with just their fingers, you finally felt a little more yourself. Your trembling had stopped and your body no longer felt as heavy. Running your tongue across your lips to wet them, you thickly mumbled, “It wasn’t like it was in the truck.”

It was the first time you had spoken since the storm broke, the words hoarse and scratchy from all of your screaming. Dani and Lily exchanged looks, before Lily asked, “I’m sorry?”

Slowly, you raised your head to look at her. “This storm. Being in it. It wasn’t like it was when we were in the truck.”

“No, I guess it probably wasn’t. But it’s over now and you’re okay. And Tyler should be back any minute.” Lily glanced over her shoulder, probably hoping to see Tyler walking back towards the van. But then she turned back to you. “Can we get you anything? Some water or something to eat?”

You shook your head. There was something you needed—the deep gnawing ache in your chest that had been there since Tyler left was the constant reminder of that—but you couldn’t find the words to explain what it was. Maybe it would ease when he returned. When he could hold you again and make all of this go away. Yet, you knew it wasn’t as simple as that. Even once Tyler came back, he couldn’t undo what had happened tonight.

Off in the distance, you heard a voice frantically screaming for someone but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. However, as it got closer, you sat up straight and jerked your head around, coming to life as you recognized the voice calling your name. Both Lily and Dani jumped slightly at your sudden movement, and Dani stuck her head out the side of the van. “Scott! She’s over here!”

A moment later, your brother appeared in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wide, and dark, damp hair—for once not hidden beneath a cap—plastered to his face. 

With a sob, you threw the blanket to the side and dove at him. “Scotty!” 

You plowed into him, immediately wrapping him in the tightest hug you could manage as the numbness that had consumed you evaporated, leaving you a tearful sobbing mess. Scott stumbled back under the force of your tackle, his body rigid in your embrace. But a moment later, you felt his arms hesitantly wrap around you—lightly at first but soon clinging to you just as tightly as you were to him. You had never hugged your brother like this but as that ache in your chest began to lift, you realized it was what you had needed all along. After everything the two of you had been through and how rocky your relationship had gotten, in the end, what you needed most was your big brother to make things all better.

The two of you remained in your embrace for a long time, both of you relying on the other to keep you on your feet. Then Scott finally pulled away and placed his hands on your shoulders as he looked you over. “When I heard you were here…that there had been casualties…I thought…” He pulled you into another tight hug.

Hugging him back, you sniffed, “Tyler saved me. I didn’t even hear the sirens until he woke me up. Then the window blew when we tried to leave and I hit my head and I…I couldn’t move. I was so scared, Scotty. But then Tyler was there and he got me into the closest and protected me until it was over and he brought me here...and…and…”

You buried your face into his shoulder and began to sob again. Scott rubbed his hand across your back before helping you sit back down in the open back of the van. He gently tried to touch the back of your head but you flinched away. “Sorry,” he muttered as he continued to look you over. “Besides your head, are you okay? I see a lot of blood here.”

“It’s from the glass when their window broke,” Dani interjected. “Both her and Tyler were covered in it. We’ve tried to get as much out as we can but she should probably go somewhere to have a professional make sure it’s all gone.”

“Thank you…both of you.” For once, there was no snark or sarcasm in his tone as Scott addressed the two Wranglers. Placing his hand on top of your head, he asked, “Can I have a minute alone with my sister?”

Dani and Lily exchanged another look, then looked at you. You knew they had promised Tyler not to leave your side, so you nodded to let them know it was okay. They said they’d wait by Tyler’s truck which was farther down in the parking lot while still in view if you needed anything, then they left.

Once he waited long enough for them to get out of earshot, Scott crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “‘The glass from their broken window’, huh? So…you were with Owens.” 

For the first time, you realized you were still only wearing Tyler’s merch t-shirt—now filthy with dust and blood—which only just covered your panties. Self-consciously, you grabbed the blanket again and wrapped it around you, trying to cover as much of your bare skin as possible. 

“Scotty, I..I—”

But he cut you off by crouching down and placing his hands on your knees. “No, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I had no right to tell you you shouldn’t be with him in the first place. And now I’m glad you were together, otherwise I might have lost you.”

Tears filling your eyes once more, you placed your hand on his cheek. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Is it terrible to say neither did I until I thought I was too late?” He dropped his head but you saw a few tears slip out as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I treated you so horribly since you arrived and I thought I didn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. I was ready to cut you out of my life completely. But the second Javi told me the storm was heading straight for the motel the Wranglers had stopped at for the night, the motel you were only at because you were trying to give me my space…I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. And I realized at that moment that it’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I was afraid of giving you another chance and finding out you hadn’t changed, that you were that same person you were when we were growing up. And nothing hurts more than being rejected or betrayed by those you love, especially family. But that’s exactly what I did to you. And I’m so sorry.”

Sure, this might all be the situation talking and Scott might not feel the same way tomorrow or a month from now, but as he pulled you into another hug, you didn’t care. You finally felt like you had your brother back. 

As you hugged Scott, you saw over his shoulder that Tyler, Boone, and Dexter had joined the two girls by Tyler’s truck. Tyler must have either scavenged some of his clothes from your room or had spares in the truck because he was now wearing a pair of jeans—riding low on his hips due to the lack of his favorite belt and buckle—and tennis shoes, still no shirt. It was the first time you had ever seen him in something other than boots and it felt strange. At least his cowboy hat was settled on his head.

You couldn’t hear what they were talking about. Based on the anxious way Lily had her arms wrapped around herself and Tyler was standing with his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground shaking his head, a deep frown carved into his handsome face, whatever it was it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Then Tyler lifted his head and looked towards the camper van. His eyes met yours and his frown lifted into a small smile—one that didn’t reach the rest of his face. His green eyes, usually sparkling with life, were now murky and troubled.

He walked over to you just as Scott pulled away, probably hearing someone approaching. Tyler nodded at him and said, “Scott. Do you think I can talk to her for a minute alone? We need to sort some stuff out after…” He gestured to the damaged motel behind him.

Scott nodded. “Yeah. But I’m not leaving my sister. I’ll wait by the front of the van until you’re done.” He started to walk away then paused. “And Ow–Tyler…thank you for protecting her.”

Tyler nodded. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t do a better job.”

Scott nodded again and disappeared in front of the van. 

Tyler sighed and turned back to you, just as you sat back down on the edge of the van. “I, uh, I managed to rescue some of our things from the room.” He placed your backpack by your feet. “I wasn’t sure what you might want to change into so I brought it all.”

“Thanks, Ty.”

His face brightened slightly. “Hey, I missed your voice. Though it does sound a little rough around the edges. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, but it’s not too bad. I can’t remember how long I was screaming. By the time I realized I was even doing it, my throat was already sore. I ca-can’t remember a lot of what happened, honestly. Just the wind a-and hitting my head a-a-and…”

You started hyperventilating as you were suddenly back in the room, Tyler’s face looming over yours as the world crumbled around you. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tyler cooed as he took your face in his hands. 

It took a moment, but with him grounding you, you were able to pull yourself back under control. “I’m sorry,” you said, leaning into his touch. “It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Sitting down next to you, Tyler hung his head with a sigh. After a moment, lifting his eyes to yours, he said, “Sweetheart, I need you to go home. Tonight.”

“What?” The panic you had felt before when the storm raged through your room gripped your heart once again as you tried to grasp what he was saying.

“You need to leave Oklahoma. Leave all of this.”

No. It didn’t make sense. Tyler was the one who had asked you to stay longer in the first place. Did your breakdown tonight change how he felt about you? “But Tyler, I thought we—”

“I know. And we were. But tonight just proved I can’t keep you safe. We got lucky this time, but I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you because you’re out here with me. So I need you to go.”

For the hundredth time tonight, tears filled your eyes. In a voice barely more than a breath, you whispered, “I thought you cared about me.”

Tyler’s face shattered and he gathered you up into his arms. “Oh, sweetheart, if I didn’t care so much, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this. I haven’t felt like this about someone for a really long time and I don’t want it to end. But—”

You placed your fingers over his lips, refusing to let him finish that sentence. “Then don’t let it end. Let me stay.”

“And tomorrow when another storm passes through, are you gonna be okay with that? Even knowing that if you don’t go on a chase, a storm may still hit where you are and you’ll end up in the middle of it again?” You opened your mouth to answer but the thought of another experience like tonight made the words stick in your throat. Tyler noticed and nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

You hadn’t given thought to tomorrow or the next day or the next. You knew what happened tonight wouldn’t stop Tyler from chasing the next storm the moment one formed, but you also knew that you never wanted to see another tornado as long as you lived. This meant the two of you were now at odds, neither willing nor able to give in for the other—which meant Tyler was right. You needed to go. 

Yet knowing that and accepting what that meant were not the same thing. Lip quivering, you asked, “So, what? This is just it? I leave and we never see each other again?”

“We both knew that it had to end at some point. Even if you stayed until the last day of your break, you have to go back to school. And I'm heading back to Arkansas when the season’s over. We're just…we're just saying goodbye a little sooner than expected.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye at all,” you said, your fingers digging into his bare shoulders. “Ty, I need you.”

“You might not feel that way in a day or two,” he said sadly. “This was a traumatic experience for you—don’t say it wasn’t because I won’t ever forget that feeling of you trembling in my arms in that closet or the sounds of your screams knowing there was nothing I could do to help you—and I don’t want you to have to relive it every time you look at me.”

“Tyler Owens, you’re the only reason I’m still alive to do anything. I could never look at you like that.”

“You don’t know that. It kills me to say this, but I’m pretty sure that this isn’t over for you. Not by a long shot. I’ve helped enough survivors of these kinds of things to know the signs. And this is going to stick with you for a very long time. Different people deal with things in different ways, but one way you might deal with it may be separating yourself from any reminders of tonight—including me. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re still in pain.” 

 “But what if you’re wrong?” you cried. “What if you’re making me leave and I still want you in my life?”

“I’m not making you do anything. If you decide to stay, I won’t stop you. But I think if you really consider what that means, you’ll see leaving is the right choice.” As you nodded with a small sob, he sighed. “Listen, I’m only out here for a few more weeks. If by then you’ve processed everything that’s happened and still want to see me, I’ll be on the first plane to you. But if it’s all too much and you’d rather just move on…” His thumb gently circled a spot on your arm where they had removed one of the larger pieces of glass. “...then I’ll respect it.”

Snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, you mumbled, “I won’t want to move on. I just want you.”

“Then you’ll have me, sweetheart. I promise.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “But you need to go home until then. Please…for me.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, then nodded. Tyler squeezed you tightly then lifted you off his lap and placed you back onto the van floor. Standing up, he gazed down at you, his eyes damp with tears.

“Scott,” he called out, his eyes never wavering from yours. “Why don’t you take your sister to the hospital to get checked out? Then see about getting her on a flight home tomorrow.”

Scott stepped up to the side of the van. He looked from Tyler to you and asked, “Is that what you want?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “No…but it’s what’s best for everyone.”

Tyler gave you an encouraging smile, putting his hand on your shoulder and squeezing it, and you leaned your head against his hip, savoring his touch while you still could. Scott’s eyes followed every movement. Nodding softly, he said, “Okay. Let me check in with Javi and fill him in on what’s going on. I’ll meet you by Scarecrow in a few minutes.”

As Scott walked away, Tyler pulled you into him as he folded himself over you. Pressing his lips to your temple, he whispered, “Thank you.” Then he stepped back. “Why don’t you go get changed and I’ll walk you over to Scott when you’re done.”

“Or you could help me,” you whispered, peering up at him from under your eyelashes. “For old time’s sake.”

Tyler glanced over his shoulder and then asked, “Are you sure? I don’t know if you’re up for—”

“Nothing like that,” you said, shaking your head. “I just want to be with you as much as possible. Please, Ty.”

He nodded and helped you stand before you both climbed into the camper van. As he slid the door closed, you rummaged through your backpack and pulled out a pair of shorts and a halter top. With a start, you realized it was the same outfit you had been wearing the day you arrived in Oklahoma. The one you had been wearing when you first met Tyler. It felt strangely perfect so you closed the backpack and turned to show them to Tyler. 

Based on the way his eyes softened as they landed on the outfit, he remembered it too. He walked over to you and gathered the bottom of the merch shirt you were wearing in his hands. When you nodded, he carefully lifted it over your head and tossed it to the floor. He inhaled as he saw the cuts that now littered your body from the glass. Gently, he trailed his fingers over a few of them on your arms, then he dropped to his knees in front of you.

As you stood there in nothing but your bra and panties, he grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. Then he began kissing the cuts across your stomach, starting with the ones just above your panty line. Then he moved up your body, placing a long, lingering kiss on each and every cut. Your eyes fluttered as he reached your breasts—he placed an extra-long kiss on the cut at the top of your cleavage. Then he continues up onto your neck, finally reaching your face. 

But as he started to kiss the cuts on your cheeks, you had waited long enough. You grabbed his head and turned it so his lips pressed against yours. Less than three weeks together, and you had been so sure you never wanted to kiss anyone else after Tyler. Yet, here you were about to walk out of his life, possibly forever. How much had changed in a single night.

Tyler finally pulled away, resting his head against yours. Panting slightly, he muttered, “You should get dressed. We better not keep your brother waiting.”

After you were ready, Tyler walked you back to his truck to say goodbye to the rest of the Wranglers. Until that moment, you hadn’t realized that not only might you never see Tyler again, but you might never see the rest of your new friends again either. That fact brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. 

As Tyler grabbed a shirt out of his backseat, you tried to hold it together as you bid farewell to each Wrangler. You thanked Dani and Lily for everything they had done for you that night. Individually, you thanked Dani for all of her advice and how she always had your back when you were first starting out with Tyler. You gave Lily a huge hug and thank you for your tattoo. Even after what happened, you had no regrets and would treasure it for the rest of your life. You thanked Dexter for taking you on as his food prep helper and for everything he had taken the time to teach you about food, tornados, and just life in general. Boone was the hardest to say goodbye to since you both looked like you were about to burst into tears. But when you pulled him into a hug, you whispered, “Please look out for him for me” to which Boone nodded and hugged you tighter. 

Taking one last look at everyone, you waved and promised to keep in touch. Then Tyler—now wearing one of his plaid shirts—placed his hand on your back and led you to Scarecrow. As heartbroken as you already felt, you didn’t know how you would survive what came next.

Scott and Javi were standing next to the passenger’s door when you arrived. You held open your arms and Javi stepped forward into them. You thanked him for running interference this trip and apologized again for any uncomfortable situations you put him in. He said he was glad to have helped and to see that you were okay after tonight’s storm. You saw Tyler shift out of the corner of your eye and you remembered what he said earlier. Hopefully, you really were okay. 

When you turned to grab your backpack from Tyler, Javi let out a snort of laughter while Scott made a strangled internal scream. Turning back in confusion, you felt heat rush to your face as you realized your halter top clearly showed off your tattoo. You gave them both a sheepish smile. Javi just nodded, a wide grin spread across his face, while Scott put one hand on his hip while he pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. 

Tyler chuckled as he steered you over to your brother. “Sorry we forgot to mention that, Scotty. But since she became a Wrangler, we let her decide if she wanted to make it official.” His eyes met yours. “And once a Wrangler, always a Wrangler. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” you whispered back, staring deep into his eyes.

Scott groaned as he rubbed his temples. “Could you please just get in the fucking truck? I don’t think I can handle any more surprises tonight.”

 “Sorry,” both you and Tyler muttered at the same time. 

As Tyler helped you climb into Scarecrow, you said one last goodbye to Javi before he walked away and Scott hurried over to the driver’s side. He got in and started the truck, but as your door slammed shut, you motioned for him to put down the window. With a sigh, he did what he was asked. 

Reaching out the window, your fingers curled into Tyler’s shirt, afraid if you let go, he would disappear. Holding back your tears, you choked out, “Don’t you fucking dare forget to call.”

Tyler nodded, a soft smile on his lips even as you saw tears glistening in his green eyes. Dipping his head slightly, he murmured, “Yes, ma’am.” 

He leaned in the window and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. Then he started to pull back, but you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck to stop him as you leaned out the window, your lips crashing into his. If this might be the last time you even saw Tyler Owens, you were going to make it a moment to remember the rest of your life. The kiss wasn’t as passionate or frenzied as some of the ones you shared once you had retreated to your room for the night, but there was a deep desperation there that you felt in your soul. You needed him to know that you didn’t want to leave him. To leave no doubt that you still wanted him despite his fears the trauma of the night would change your mind. 

And most of all, you wanted him to feel the sincerity in your next words.

Pulling away slightly, you whispered, “I still don’t regret a second of our time together. Because I love you, Ty.”

Without hesitation, Tyler whispered, “I love you too, sweetheart. And that’s why I need you to do what’s best for you. Even if that means I’m not a part of that life. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” Taking your hand, he pressed one final kiss to the back of it. “Goodbye, my brave, beautiful girl.”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you said, “Goodbye, my big, bad Tornado Wrangler.”

With a smile and tears in his eyes, Tyler let your hand go and he stepped away from the truck. Before you could change your mind, Scott put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. 

For several miles, you stared out the passenger’s window, silently crying. Scott glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before turning back to look at the road. “You really like him, don’t you?” You nodded. “Damn. I thought it was just your way of messing with me.”

You sighed. “It was…at first. I remembered you had mentioned him and how much you hated his crew so after what you said to me when I first got here, I thought it would be nice to see you squirm watching us together. But as soon as I started getting to know him, everything changed. I’ve never met a man like Tyler Owens before, and I doubt I ever will again.”

“Yeah, well, despite how he saved you tonight, I’m still not happy to find out he’s been shacking up with my little sister,” he mumbled under his breath.

Turning to face him with a chuckle, you asked, “Do you really think Tyler’s the first guy I’ve slept with?”

Scott’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “It’s not something I like to think about. But no…I remember those times Mom caught you in high school.”

“Oh my god!” you burst out laughing. “I still can’t believe she never once tried to stop us or ban the guys from the house. She would just turn bright red and hurry back out the room then pretend she never saw anything.” The smile that had bloomed across your damp face suddenly deflated. “Yet the one time they found you with that topless cheerleader, they almost kicked you out of the house.” You closed your eyes. “Scotty, I’m so sorry for how they treated you. Or for how they treated me. Or both. It wasn’t fair and you deserved better than that. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.”

Scott shifted in his seat. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t fair for me to be mad at you for what they did. You didn’t ask to be treated differently and I shouldn’t have blamed you for something you had no control over. Yeah, you didn’t have to be such a spoiled brat all the time, but I probably would have done the same if I were in your position.”

“So…what does this mean? For us?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know.” His eyes shifted over to look at you once more. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

“I always was.”

The two of you continued to chat on the way to the hospital, reminiscing about your childhoods and, surprisingly, recalling more happy moments together than either of you thought there were. You guessed they had just been blocked by all the pain and resentment that had built up over the years. 

And as Scott pulled into the hospital parking lot, you couldn’t help but smile at this parting gift Tyler had given you. He could have easily taken you to the hospital and then to the airport—in fact, you were sure it went against every chivalrous bone in his body not to. But instead, he let Scott take you which had given the two of you the time you needed to finally mend that rift between you. 

He had given you your brother back.

Epilogue coming 10/21!!!!

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