#Matthew Chapter 11

[peterkazmaier]

Some Personal Thoughts on Tim Keller's Exposition of Matthew Chapter 11

My Journey to Timothy Keller I realized during the waning months of the Covid-19 pandemic lock-downs, that I had lost  two significant Bible teachers who in the past had greatly influenced my thinking. Since I missed their teaching and influence very much, I prayed to find someone whose teaching could fill this void in my life. I came across Timothy Keller’s podcasts and they have gone a long…

[protege-not-protagonist]

Criminal Minds: The Protégé Chapter 11

Ch 11: The Mountain King- Pt. 4

Blurb: While still anxious to call her friend and check in on him, Grace updates the team on the findings of the autopsy and helps provide more information to try find the identity of the victims. Grace is then tasked with conducting a laborious search of the archives. She is paired up to room with JJ for the first time since joining the BAU. During which, JJ observes some concerning behaviour from the youngest member of the team and can't help but reflect on her own experience joining the BAU at such a young age.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Audience: 16+ mature audience for depictions of violence and sexual references

Author's Note: if you see a trigger warning that concerns you, you can scroll to end and I'll have a brief description what happens. And how to read around it. TW: violence, crime scene depiction, This case mentions sexual assault (as previous chapters), slight body horror, mentions sexual assault of a child (only mentions), also mention of drugs

Central Police Station, Harrisburg, PA, 7:20 PM

The team gathered round a monitor as JJ linked the conference with Garcia. Grace checked her watch. 7:20, enough time to eat and clean up at the hotel before 9:00pm. She’d been thinking about the phone call all day. The reminder had been sitting at the back of her mind and on the notifications tab of her phone since the morning; don’t forget to call 9:00pm. What was wrong? What had happened? She hoped he was okay. What was she going to say? She couldn’t prepare something if she didn’t know what it was.

A chime sounded as their current call connected, and Garcia smiled at them.

‘Hello, my fine furry friends, please tell me you’re closer to catching this guy?’ Her hot pink fluffy pen drew Grace’s attention like a laser point as she twirled it around her fingers.

‘Possibly,’ Rossi told her and folded his arms, ‘We have an area narrowed down, and maybe, if some history buffs have done the Lord’s work, there could be a map of a mine he could be using, but chances are slim. Can you see if you can find anything online about abandoned mines in the area, check spelunking forums and blogs. I doubt it will turn up anything, but we need to be prepared. This unsub knows the terrain. We don’t want to be caught off guard. Did the phrase I sent you turn up anything?’

Phrase? Grace frowned. Had she missed something? Her head swung between Rossi and the other team members present.

‘Bumpkis.’ Garcia said with frustration laced through her tone. ‘It doesn’t seem to reference anything directly, closest matches I can get are about hobbit hole themed Air B&Bs, wrong kind of trip with friends.’

It was then Grace remembered she had been late to the briefing.

‘What phrase?’ She whispered to Simmons next to her.

‘The unsub called from the woods to the first victim’s friend, used a strange phrase.’ Simmons turned to her and smiled warmly, but she didn’t feel any comfort from it, only guilt.

It was not Simmons’ fault at all. He had never shown her anything to suggest he held any grudge or ill feelings afterwards. She tried to tell herself Simmons had forgiven her, that it wasn’t her fault. But it didn’t change what she felt and what had happened. Things had been awkward between them ever since she had failed him so dismally. He had been the first person on the team to besides Rossi to trust her so implicitly, and she let him down. To label the feeling as awkward was an understatement.

Simmons continued in a whisper to her, ‘It was a very theatrical way of saying come find your friend. We thought it might be from a movie or play.’

Grace furrowed her brow. ‘What did he say-‘

‘Grace has some more identifying features for the victims.’ Rossi interrupted.

‘Oh, yes.’ Grace looked up and turned back to the screen, remembering the notebook she held in her hand. She thumbed through her notes.

Garcia’s hands hovered above her keyboard and she grinned at her. ‘Hit me, Gracie baby.’

She short circuited. Unsure if it was being called “Gracie” for the first time or “baby” for the first time. Probably the latter.

‘I uh, yeah… Um, have some notes from the bodies.’ She stuttered. ‘Can you add this to the victims’ descriptions, then cross reference and distribute this on NamUs? These are things only friends and family would know and look for. Also look at registered hikers for the trail. All victims, except Hope, had a fair bit of muscle on their legs and were in good health. Very healthy lungs too, used to elevation. I think they were experienced hikers. Women register their hikes more than men do and have regular checkpoints. It’s been a few days now. If Three and Four registered, they would have missed a check point by now, see if there’s anyone who’s missing.’

Dr Lewis moved to the whiteboard and posed ready to write the features under the victimology part of the board.

‘To add to our profiles, Three and Four were experienced hikers, active they both have watch tans. But the watches weren’t on the bodies when they were found. The tan lines indicate a thicker band, 20 mm band, 450 mm watch face. Most women’s dress watches have an 18 mm band and a 350 mm face. So most probably they had a digital sport watch or an active smart watch.’ A thought suddenly hit her. ‘Actually, Garcia, see if you can get in touch with Garmin.’

‘The GPS company?’ Rossi questioned.

‘They make smart watches now too,’ Simmons added, seeing where she was going with this.

‘Yeah, a few of their models are in the dimensions we’re looking for. They are quite popular with hikers because of the GPS SOS system. Also, they have challenges their users can undertake. One of them is the Appalachian trail. Users have profiles they can share with family friends or personal trainers to track their progress and send SOS alerts to with a geotag. See if you can get them to hand over user data of SOS signals in this area, and any users who haven’t been transmitting data for a few days in the area.’

‘I can do you a bit better than get in touch with them,’ Garcia Smirked. Grace grimaced. She was not going to tell Avery that Garcia could access his logged data from his Zumba classes. ‘I’m in. User data is encrypted, though. I miss the days where no one knew what they were doing on the Internet. I’ll try a few tricks, see if I can decrypt some of it and find our victims.’

‘Good work,’ Rossi nodded along. ‘What about victim Two? She is the one we have nothing on.’

Grace had been even more determined to find anything to help them identify Two. She had spent almost an hour hovering over the lifeless woman. Double checking the reports, rerunning the finger prints. Taking her time to examine each part of her. She could not leave until she had something to add to the profile. To Grace, there was no fate sadder than sitting in a labelled box with only a number for a name.

‘Victim Two was also athletic, like the others good lungs, healthy, muscled legs. But victim Two played a violin… or viola. Regularly,’ Grace pointed. ‘Their Infraspinatus on the left side is over developed and there’s superficial elevation of the clavicle. Only strings will do that. Tennis comes close, but the muscles on the ventral side will develop as well. Also, her fingertips on the left side are calloused, further confirming that she is a string player, and probably professional or regularly. They are also right-handed.’

‘You can tell handedness on a body?’ Simmons asked, staring at the photos in front of him.

‘They have more skin creases on their right wrist. A person’s dominate wrist will have an extra crease lower and fainter than the ones on the non-dominate wrist. This crease is from writing by hand. Annoyingly, the younger people’s creases are less prominent. But Victim Two definitely wrote a lot. She was a musician, wrote a lot by hand and was outdoorsy.’ She said and her face fell. ‘She must have been creative.’

Grace watched as every person in the room stared at their wrists, rotating them and flexing them experimentally, and continued. ‘The autopsy report noted a surgery scar across the abdomen. I can tell you they had an appendectomy, ye-olde-style, probably cause she didn’t have enough mass for keyhole surgery. That should help. Keyhole is way more popular these days. So having the old style full open surgery is rare,’ Grace watched as Garcia finished typing, then curiously flicked her gaze to the underside of her wrists.

‘Moving on to the unsub’s weapon of choice. Pretty standard woodcutter’s axe. 4 and half inch blade. Unsub is on the upper-side of average strength. Also right handed, taking an average of 4 hacks to decapitate the victims. Hope and Two were attacked from behind while they were sitting or kneeling. Didn’t see the attack coming. Three and Four were incapacitated or dead before dismemberment,’ Grace relayed and shut her notebook.

‘You done? I did not need to hear that.’ Garcia took her fingers out of her ears while Dr Lewis scribed it on the case board. Simmons was twisting and subtle swinging his arm while looking at the photographs, trying to understand how Grace had got all that from just looking at the body.

The truth was, she couldn’t really explain it. It was just what she was good at. It was how her brain had combined her ADHD given skill for pattern recognition, her hyper-focus on morbid topics and her childhood trauma to produce a defence mechanism. It had made her seem physic to some, given her a reliable gut instinct to keep her safe, and made her the best forensic analyst the FBI had. But it was also what kept her up at night. It was also what made socialising a struggle. What acted like a barrier between herself and normalcy. It was what made joining the FBI the only way she could be praised for her skill rather than further ostracised.

There was a rap on the door and Detective garner poked his head in. ‘Good evening, this a good time? I made the inquiries with the historical society.’

‘Come in,’ Rossi waved him through. ‘What did you find?’

‘Well, the historical society can confirm they have surveys and intelligence data archived. No one could recall tunnels being part of the collection, but then again, it is not the most researched area, but you’re in luck they said they have them digitalised.’ He reported.

Garcia beamed, ‘Excellent, just provide me access and I’ll get my program running through those records like a knife through butter.’

‘Unfortunately…’ the detective sighed. ‘Digital doesn't mean online.’

‘Oh no,’ Grace groaned, already familiar with the way archivist like to store things “digitally.”

‘It’s Microfiche, isn’t it?’

‘Afraid so.’ The detective sighed.

‘What’s micro fish?’ JJ asked, looking at Garcia. Their brightly dressed friend only shrugged.

‘It a type of film reel.’ Grace grimaced.

Everyone turned to Rossi.

He held up his hands. ‘Hey, you know more than me, Gracie.’ She frowned at the second use of that nickname as Rossi continued on. ‘Back in the day, the admin staff would put Gideon and I’s case files on it, but I never actually used it or saw it. If we needed old files, we got the secretary or junior agents to prep them.’

‘I heard of my colleagues using it in college for old records of case studies, but I avoided it. I went for more modern cases.’ Lewis shrugged.

Alvez and Simmons shrugged.

‘How is it that I, Gen Z, am the only one who is familiar with Microfiche? You all should have encountered it at college, especially in the 90s!’

‘Never went to college,’ Simmons, Luke and Rossi said in unison.

Then how did they get into the FBI? Grace wondered. It was a requirement that you have at least a bachelor-or equivalent law enforcement or military experience. Military, that would be why. Lewis and JJ probably studied, but did not have to research like she did. Dr Reid probably had used Microfiche. Too bad he wasn’t here.

‘Well, it's film. Tiny film where documents are photographed, one page per frame on a continuous reel of film. If they say it’s available digitally, my guess is you don't have to use a view scope, and they have a film wizard.’

Her team still looked lost.

‘It reads the film and connects it to a computer, where you can extract the document though a screen capture and turn them in to PDFs. It’s used for newspapers usually. Like three years of a newspaper’s issues will be saved on one roll of a compact film. You have to go through it by hand. You can't control f.’

‘Well, guess Five-O’s volunteered to go fiche-ing.’ Alvez said. Rossi nodded, and the team’s heads turned to her.

‘Great,’ she groaned. ‘I didn’t need sleep, anyway.’

---------

Fairway Hotel, Harrisburg, PA, 8:12 PM

After getting the archive’s address from the detective, JJ had been paired up to share a car and room with Grace. They had gone back to the hotel to check in and have a quick meal before she drove Grace to the archives. Now she was unpacking a few of her things, plugging in her phone charger and sitting in silence, taking the time to rest. It was the first time she and Grace had been partnered up to share a room. It was insightful. It was the first time she had seen Grace perform her ‘ritual.’

Prentiss and Tara had mentioned it briefly, said that technically they all should do it, so there was no point in trying to convince her it wasn’t necessary. Apparently, she had always done it, even before the Robinson’s case, so they weren’t particularly concerned that it was an anxious compulsion. JJ had watched curiously as Grace swept the room with a RF-detector, checked every cupboard, mirror and painting meticulously, even shining her phone touch into every vent. JJ wondered why, after all the cases she had been on that she didn’t do those things. She also asked Grace why as she checked the locks, hinges and peep hole. Grace only shrugged and simply said it helped her sleep.

Now with Grace in the bathroom freshening up, JJ eyed the bright blue Squishmellow creature, silk eye mask, waffle cotton PJs out on Grace’s bed and noise cancelling ear buds, melatonin gummies and crossword puzzle book on the bed-side table. Firstly, she wondered how the Squishmellow had fit in her go bag. Secondly, she felt guilty. Guilty for not knowing her young colleague was suffering so much from insomnia and what seemed like anxiety. Guilty for not taking her seriously when she requested to have a couch seat on the plane. Guilty for not seeing her jokes about not needing sleep as simply that, jokes.

And JJ had tried to show she did care. Grace was young. And from her own experience, JJ knew Grace was probably too young to be in the BAU. JJ worried about her a lot, she worried about her in the way she wished someone had worried about her and Spencer. But every attempt JJ made to get closer to Grace had only resulted in establishing more distance between them.

JJ liked Grace. She was a brilliant agent, young and energetic. She had her quirks and was shy and reticent, but damn, could she read people. She may not have been the best at interacting with people, but she could observe a conversation and tell you exactly what each person had been thinking. Grace was one of the best natural born profilers this team had ever seen. They all knew it from her first trial case. JJ remembered sitting at the round table, preparing to be disappointed by the new probationary agent, raising an eyebrow at the preppy-looking forensic officer, who raised her hand and waited for permission to talk. She also remembered all skepticism of Rossi’s recommendation, leave her as this 23-year-old took one look at the crime scene photos and produced a profile that was so specific it shaved days off the investigation.

In many ways, Grace was like Spence. But also, in many ways, she was completely different. JJ missed her best friend, and she recognised that part of feeling distant from Grace was because she was looking for something to supplement the genius shaped hole Spencer’s resignation had brought into her life. It was good, in a way. Healthy. They had needed to distance themselves after the whole… situation. But the thing that JJ couldn’t understand was why she got the sense that Grace didn’t like her. Not that Grace was rude, unkind, or acted in any way that would imply that she disliked her. It was more the way Grace acted with other members of the team that gave her an inclination that Grace was uncomfortable around her specifically, well also Simmons, but after the Robinson’s case that was understandable.

JJ heard the tap run in the bathroom briefly and then suddenly there was a hacking cough and gaging sound from Grace. JJ turned her head. But the retching sound and heavy breaths did not stop. A groan of discomfort creaked out from the room. JJ stood up and knock on the door.

‘Matthews, you okay in there?’ she asked, pressing an ear to the door. She heard the quiet gasps and sniffles, like the sound her children made when they had thrown up.

‘Uh… Fine…’ Grace coughed hoarsely. JJ heard the shifting of Grace’s body slumping against a wall and onto the floor.

‘Grace let me in. Are you okay?’ JJ tried the handle, locked. ‘I’m fine, just swallowed some water the wrong way…’ she stuttered out and JJ could hear her laboured breathing through the thin wall. ‘Sorry, I panicked, just trying to calm down. I’m fine… just give me a minute.’

JJ was torn. She felt like kicking the door down, but at the same time she could hear Grace’s breathing slow down, like she was calming down. Like she really had just choked and panicked. The Mom in her needed to be in that room.

‘You need anything?’ she asked.

‘No.’ Grace coughed out.

‘What about for tonight, at the archive, food? Coffee?’ JJ asked ear to the door still.

‘Uh, a carton of diet coke, and enough Ritalin to kill a blue whale.’ Grace called back. There was a shuffling sound, and then the doorknob rattled.

JJ stepped back as the door swung open and examined Grace from head to toe. ‘What’s Ritalin?’

‘Oh… uh it’s um… Meth. A type of it. It was a joke, you know? Like to keep me awake to do the job.’ Grace explained. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose was red, face slightly patchy, like she had been crying.

‘Sure you’re good?’

‘Yeah. Nothing, just… what choking on your own spit and having a coughing fit does to you, you know?’

‘Okay, well let’s get some dinner into you on the way archives. You didn’t seem too taken with the room service options. Do you want McDonald’s or Dairy Queen?’

‘Neither of those are dinner foods.’ Grace said and grabbed her canvas messenger bag and checked her watch. ‘But the Dairy Queen is more convenient. It’s on the way.’

‘But you told Alvez the other day you favourite is the Fillet-o-fish.’ JJ pointed out.

Grace stopped in the doorway, giving her a surprised look and nodding. ‘It is. But McDonalds means we would need to detour, 6 extra turns.’ She looked back at her watch again.

‘You’re not in a rush to spend a night in front of a computer scrolling through miles of film, right?’ JJ smiled at her. ‘We’ll get you a fillet-o-fish.’ Grace’s mouth opened a little in shock and she nodded. ‘And a large Diet coke.’ JJ added, fishing the car keys from her pocket.

‘Thanks, JJ.’ Grace offered her a small smile, and they headed out to the car together.

---------

Civil War Memorial Museum Archives, Harrisburg, PA, 9:01 PM

She stared at the phone for a second longer as one minute ticked over, and she hit “call”. She placed the phone on speaker next to her and turned back to the computer screen and hit fast forward on the film reader. Black and white documents with overly exaggerated cursive scrolled across the screen as the dial tone rang.

After the fourth ring, the phone crackled.

‘Hey?’ she greeted.

‘Hey.’ Harrison answered. Immediately, she could detect the tiredness in his voice. It usually was so energetic.

‘Oh no, what happened?’ she asked. Glancing at the black phone screen and then back to the computer. Still not the documents she was looking for.

Harrison sighed heavily. ‘It was a rough day, you?’

‘It's a rough case.’ She said.

‘So you’re still working? Now?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, but I can talk.’ Grace assured him. ‘I'm trawling through Microfiche. Pun not intended.’

‘Watch out for mircosharks.’ He said with a slight lightness, chuckling to himself.

She snorted. ‘That was more terrible than usual. What happened?’

‘A lot.’ He sighed heavily again. ‘Emma was at my sister’s apartment this morning, figured out where I was staying now. She was crying and said she was sorry, that she regrets it.’

Grace’s face soured. Emma. Narscistsic-controlling-ex-girlfriend Emma. She tried to keep a neutral tone. ‘Oh? Are you-do you feel safe?’

‘Don't worry, I told her to shove it.’ Harrison said.

She laughed. ‘I would���ve paid good money to see that.’

‘I mean, I was more polite about it than that,’ he admitted.

‘Boo!’ she commentated, then hesitated, was that going too far? ‘I’m kidding.’ She clarified. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I don't know.’ There was a shakiness in his voice now. ‘I haven't had time to think about it, really… I just-It was…’ He trailed off and let out a quiet sob. ‘I've had an awful day at work, Grace… It was awful.’

Grace stopped scrolling through the film and cradled the phone in her hand as if she could send her comforting touch through the phone. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

‘I don't want to load you up with more than you need right now, if you’re having a rough case-‘

‘-Every case is rough. Did one of your patients die?’ She asked.

‘No. Today… we had to do a kit. Oh Grace, I… we shouldn’t have to do them on anybody, but in paeds… I never thought-‘ He sobbed.

A tear pricked her own eye as she heard him cry. That was an awful day. She didn’t know what to say. She swallowed.

‘Oh Harri I’m so sorry.’ She voiced, trying to send her urge to wrap her arms around him through the phone.

‘I don’t know if I can sleep tonight. The things that man did to her… She cried when I asked her what colour cast she wanted for her leg. She was terrified by my voice and I… cried. God, I’m crying right now. I’m so angry. And…I want to make it better, but there is nothing I can do. I can't even walk in the room without scaring her. They assigned me elsewhere in the ward since, but I just can't stop thinking about… Why? I… can't even… She was 8, Grace. How could someone do that to her? She’s 8 years old!’ His voice cracked.

Anger filled her too. Anger because it happened, anger because her friend was crying. Anger because it was so senseless. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she found words.

‘You will never understand, Harri, because people who do that are so far gone, even people like me who study those people struggle to understand. It's evil, and it is senseless. Do they at least know who did it?’ she tried to steer the conversation more positively.

‘Yeah, he’s in jail and I’m trying to focus on that, but I just can't get my mind off it, you know?’

‘I struggle with that too, keeping my mind off things.’ She told him. As soon as the admission left her mouth, Groton’s golf course flared in her mind. Images flooded her view and throbbed in her skull. She shut her eyes and shook them out. She couldn’t focus on that, not now. Not when she had taken her meds. She couldn’t get stuck on the wrong thing.

‘What do you do?’ Harrison’s voice called to her.

‘Pardon?’ she asked, even though she had heard him.

‘How do you keep your mind off it? How do you move on?’

She wet her lips and sighed. ‘I guess I do what I can. I do my job, do it well. Go to therapy, talk, do things that keep me busy and happy, create things, remind myself there's good people in the world.’ She imagined him sitting at his sister’s kitchen table, still in his colourful scrubs, probably the Ninja Turtles ones, nursing a coffee cup running his fingers through his ruddy brown hair. She pictured herself next to him, holding his hand. She smiled sadly. ‘Good people, ones who cry because they can’t care for her without scaring her, and are angry that such an awful thing would happen. Good People who care enough to ask a little girl what colour cast they’d prefer. People like you. It’s the small things Harri. Your small good each day, fights tooth and nail to chip away at a whole lot of bad. Your small good. Focus on that.’ She then thought of the way she spent most of her evenings at home. ‘Also children's television and movies. That’s my go to. Because good always prevails in those worlds, it might not be realistic, but it’s cathartic. Got a list I can recommend if you’d like?’

‘Actually, that's why I was hoping you weren't away tonight.’ He said, but there was something in his tone, a hesitancy. She sat waiting for him to continue. He took a few seconds. ‘I, uh, wanted to ask if you wanted to have a movie night at… my place, or yours.’ There was a beat of silence before he scrambled again with his words, ‘That's only if you’re comfortable. I didn't want to say at a theatre in case you weren't ready after the whole… Incident. But I get it if asking is crossing a line.’

Her mind raced. Thoughts crashed against her skull and her fears blared like claxons. Her mouth opened and, ‘I don't know,’ stumbled out.

‘What kind of I don't know?’ he pressed.

Please don’t make me explain, her mind begged. She put the phone done to distance herself from him. She stared at the caller ID and tensed her body in an effort to slow down her mind before her mouth betrayed her. Thank God she had managed to actually take her meds before this.

‘I want to, but I don't know if we should.’ She answered diplomatically. ‘Going to each other’s houses is a bit of a step… it's a bit intimate.’

‘I know the way we met was not an ideal situation but, come on, G, we call and text each other like every second day, we send pictures of weird things we see to each other with no context, we do the Wordle, we debrief with each other. I’m not kidding when I said I'd wait by the phone. Your calls make my day.’ He said what she already knew, but then he really hit the nail on the head with his next words. ‘I think if we are honest with ourselves, we are already past what is an FBI approved relationship.’

‘Appropriate relations with a victim.’ She corrected in panic. ‘Harrison, I feel it too, but what happened to us, specifically, what she did to us, was to make us artificially foster a sense of closeness. That bond, what we feel, it's not really… real. We don't really know each other as well as we feel we do. We need to distance ourselves from what we felt at the time so we can form an uninfluenced relationship.’

You hypocrite, her own mind sneered at her.

‘I know, I know, because of the transference, right? G, I get it. But 6 months of pretending like it didn’t happen, it’s killing me. Calls during lunch breaks from work, conversing only in Wordle scores, walking along the harbour front at night? Aren’t you tired of it? It feels like we’re cold war spies, and not in a good way.’

There was a lot to unpack in that, but her mind clung to one thing. ‘I-I thought you liked National Harbour?’

‘Oh no G, I do! I do. I love the harbour.’ He reassured her. ‘I just want a chance to talk like normal people, you know? Take you out to the movies, have dinner together, hang at each other’s houses. We’re not strangers, but when we meet up, it feels like we pretend we are. It’s like you don't want to be there, or like you feel you're not supposed to. But you were a victim too. You didn’t investigate that case, so I doubt there is a protocol for that. Look, all I’m saying is you said what we feel is not real, that it’s transference or whatever, but I feel it, so it’s real to me. Why can't we make it real, Grace?’

Oh no. This is it. This is where it fell apart, where it ended, where she would lose him. Friendship was good. She learned that friendship was safe. The next thing, though, she could never go there. That was when people would find out that she wasn’t worth it. That was when people wouldn’t want her anymore.

‘Harri,’ she took a breath and tried not to cry. ‘I really don't know. Don't take this the wrong way but I think you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state right now, that case at work today probably didn't do you good and probably brought up some thoughts about Cooper… and you have ended things with Emma, the girl you would previously go home to and… talk with, wind down with… and now you’re looking for that kind of connection, looking for a new… partner. And I'm sorry Harri, I think you're great but I'm not ready for that kind of relationship and I think if you're honest with yourself you aren't either and you could do far better than me-‘

‘-Woah, woah no!’ he stopped her.

‘No?’ she questioned.

‘Grace, I'm not looking for a rebound girl!’

‘A what?’ she frowned.

‘Nevermind. I meant all that platonically. You’re my friend right, even if it's kinda weird?’ he stammered.

‘Oh? Yes. I would consider us weird friends…’ she nodded along in confusion.

‘No wonder you were bringing out your professional tone.’ He laughed nervously. ‘I’m Sorry I wasn't clear, that did kinda sound a bit-‘

‘-No, sorry, I misread that. It’s hard over the phone. I don’t have your expressions to go off.’ She scrambled.

Harrison continued to ramble, ‘No, no, that’s my fault, I said stuff like it feel real to me… and stuff, I meant our friendship-I see how that sounded like I had caught feelings-‘

‘Oh no, it’s my mistake,’ she apologised. ‘I-I thought movies and dinner were like a thing couples do.’

‘Oh Grace, I'm a simple man. If I wanted to ask you on a date, I would. I wouldn't try to trick you into it.’ He chuckled. She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I mean yeah, couples do that, but so do friends G.’ He paused. ‘Wait, have you never done those things with a friend before?’

‘Um… funny story about that.’ She admitted nervously and scrolled through the film again. Feeling safe to divert her attention from him again.

‘Oh Grace,’ he said with pity.

‘I’ve never really had many friends my age.’ She explained with a shrug. There were a few beats of silence again, but they were comfortable now.

‘So…’ he said, clearing the air. ‘Is that a yes to the movie? To just being “weird friends” hanging out.’

She thought for a moment. Six months? Was that enough time to have been in a friendship to invite someone to your house? Penelope had invited her to her apartment after about 4 months. Rossi let her come over for pasta night with the team after her first month. Simmons had trusted her enough to babysit after two… She supposed it was.

‘You know what, once we wrap up this case, sure. We can do it at your place, but I get to pick the movie,’ she agreed and found herself smiling. ‘This time.’

‘This time?’ he asked with a curious tone.

‘Well, I figure, since we are both going to have bad days, and you feel walks around National Harbour are impersonal, sounds like something we are going to do more than once,’ she explained, her eyes still flicking over the pages of documents scrolling across the screen.

He chuckled, ‘We are going to have to work out a roster.’

‘Harrison, you know I don’t stick to schedules very well.’

‘Says the girl with like 700 alarms on her phone.’ He laughed.

She giggled. ‘Actually, I’ve found that my phone won’t let me have more than fifty, soo… a lot less than 700.’

Documents scrolled past and her eyes skimmed over the dates and locations as the reel ran out. She sighed and flicked the rewind button. The machine whirled. She unboxed the next lot of film labelled, ‘Pt. G. T. Kayne - Diaries cira 1859-1861’

‘How are you? Sorry I didn’t ask about your day yet, did I?’

She perked up. ‘Oh, no. That’s fine. I’m okay, I’m actually in Harrisburg Pennsylvania, going through civil war archives now, in other circumstances I’d be enjoying myself but, not right now, I’m in for a long night.’

‘Is it a rough case?’ he probed

‘Kind of, we’ve got a lot of missing pieces right now, missing IDs. That’s what rough.’

‘Oh.’ He said, comprehending exactly what that meant for her. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. You okay?’

‘Yeah, I was able to give some extra features to Penelope, so hopefully she can turn up some faces.’

‘Oh my God, they don’t have faces?’ He gasped.

‘No! I-They do just uh.’ She winced. Well, he wasn’t wrong. ‘They do… we just haven’t been able to-‘ She cut herself off before she said anything that would disturb him further, ‘I was saying it as an expression.’

‘Well, now you’re looking into it, I’m sure they won’t be faceless for long.’ Harrison reassured her.

She smiled at the compliment. ‘I hope so. But, yeah, there are a few odd things in this case we haven’t been able to get our heads around. We are focusing on what we know, but there have been some things that aren’t adding up, the profile isn’t coming together like it should,’ She loaded the next roll of film onto the reader and packaged the old one back up, sliding into a pile with other reels she had determined were administrative correspondence.

‘What kind of things?’ He asked, then added, ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.’

‘I don’t actually know. That’s the thing. I’m looking at this abrasion and I can’t tell what the unsub was trying to achieve. He is evolving his M.O, but I don’t know why or really how. The guy is a proper A-grade weirdo, Harri.’

‘Wow, and that’s an FBI profiler’s official opinion?’

Grace looked at the piles she had made on the table of the different categories of documents she had come across, and a thought stuck her. There was correspondence, payrolls, orders, reports and surveys, all where different aspects of Military Intelligence. Her whole life, she worked to separate things from a whole. To her most thing where related eventually, that’s why she was constantly being reminded to keep things relevant on topic. But what if now the problem was that she had separated things to where she couldn’t see them as related? When she examined a body, it was dead; therefore, her deductions were based in a criminal and forensic context. But, Harrison saw similar horrors, occasionally, but while someone was alive, in a health and medicine context.

‘Harri, before you worked Paeds, you were ER, right?’ she tested the waters, hoping he would be comfortable enough to answer a difficult question.

‘Yeah, worst year of my life,’ he snorted. ‘Why?’

She cringed internally, preparing for him to hang up in disgust. ‘Did you get a lot of-how do I put this? Bedroom Accidents?’

‘Too Many. G, you wouldn't believe the things people do in the boudoir.’ He said enthusiastically. ‘Why do you ask- actually just remembered your working so the less I know the better.’

‘I won’t scar you with details, but you might be able to help me. We’ve encountered something none of us have seen before. It seems like it has a sexual element to it, but I don’t know. We’ve never seen a serial killer do it before, but maybe some people do it consensually as a kink, maybe? But it could easily go wrong, so it’s likely someone’s gone to hospital for it.’

‘Sure, I was only in ER for a year, I might not be that helpful, but if I’ve heard of it, I’ll tell you.’ He waited for her to gather her words patiently.

'Have you ever seen anything to do with a catheter or externally filling a bladder?’ She asked.

‘Eugh.’ He grimaced. ‘Me personally no, but someone told me about Human Carafes back in college, I’ve only heard of it in an unbelievable story a class mate tells, you know, like a “I heard that there’s a secret sociality of crazy rich doctors with a god complex and each year they host a dinner party and make everyone sign an NDA cause they all have an orgy and human carafes.” I don’t know how it would turn anyone on. It’s more pseudo sexual, like a power display thing… to my ears anyway, is that the kinda thing you’re looking at?’

God complex? Pseudo sexual power display? Sounded exactly like something that could feature in this unsub’s M.O.

‘Human Carafes is not something I’m familiar with and I don’t want to google that. Can you talk me through what that is?

‘Hang on, just let get behind some closed doors, cause Liza is frowning at me cause I said orgy.’ There was some shuffling and a muffled voice, but she couldn’t make anything out. Then Harrison replied, ‘Well, I don’t complain about having to listen to your filthy, Scottish Historical Drama while I eat… Yes it is Grace… NO!… okay fine I’ll tell her…’ Harrison bickered with his sister. ‘My sister says hi, by the way. I need to move out.’ He chuckled, and she heard him shut a door. ‘So I’m guessing the victims are having it done to them? Are they male?’

She raised an eyebrow, momentarily stopping her scrolling. ‘No, our victims’s are female.’

‘Huh, that is weird. Probably not the same kinda kink cause it’s usually a thing done to males cause of the… you know… the appendage.’ He trailed off.

‘Harri, sorry you’re going to have to be a bit more specific, or clinical. Believe it or not, I do know what a penis is.’ She chuckled. There was a moment of silence. Oh no, I’ve freaked him out. She panicked, ‘I mean, you don’t have to, if you’re not comfortab-‘

‘Do I want to distract myself from an awful day and evil people with stupid, disgusting medical anecdotes? Absolutely.’ He told her with a lighter tone in his voice. He then laughed a little, ‘Sorry I was just trying to get over the fact that you said penis so causally.’ he giggled.

‘Oh, grow up,’ she snickered.

He took a long sigh before he began. ‘Okay, so let me preference this with two words. Gnarly UTI.’

‘That's technically four words, but my interest is peaked.’ She smiled and listen to him as she scrolled through another three reels of film.

-----------

Fairway Hotel, Harrisburg, PA, 9:10 PM

JJ poured the mixture of the crushed up tablet and solution into the three test receptacles of the standard pill testing kit and averted her gaze, staring at the ceiling.

‘Please…’ she sighed. ‘Please don’t let any of them be positive.’

She peaked back down and her face fell. A bright pink indicator at stared back at her.

She tore her eyes away, afraid to look at the label that would identify the four white tablets that sat ominously on the bathroom counter. She wasn’t supposed to find them. It had been an accident. While plugging in her hairdryer, she had knocked Grace’s bath bag to the floor and a few things had fallen out. That was all. She hadn’t meant to snoop, but as she repacked the scattered items back into the bag, she had picked up a tin of lip gloss and it rattled.

Pills. JJ knew the sound instantly. Pills that were loose and concealed. If Grace hadn’t of been cagey about what had happened in the bathroom earlier that night, JJ wouldn‘t have thought twice, but it wasn’t just the ‘coughing fit’ that had her worried lately.

JJ glanced at the positive indicator and gasped.

Amphetamines.

JJ ran a hand through her hair in distress. It was Hankle all over again. And JJ could not believe she had let it happened, again. They should have known Grace passed the psych evaluations too easily afterwards. She should have suspected after the nightmare on the plane. They should have known; there were warning signs littered around everywhere. Grace’s quietness about the Robinson’s case, her insomnia, joking about taking drugs… Just like she joked about her sleep. Now it made sense why Grace wasn’t sleeping. She was avoiding the nightmares about Robinson’s case by taking amphetamines to stay awake.

JJ didn’t know what to do.

If she told Emily, that would put Emily in a compromising position and Grace could be fired and then who knows what would happen; she could spiral and get worse. But if she did nothing… well, she already had seen what pretending to be ignorant had done. It had worked out fine in the end, but she had many regrets, and she was sure Reid did too. JJ concluded she had to confront Grace. How she was going to do that she didn’t know. Maybe she could ask for Reid’s advice. But for now, while they were on a case, all she could do was keep a close eye on the youngest member of their team.

‘Why Grace?’ she asked herself. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’

----------

Just to be clear, Grace is NOT on drugs. See TW drugs.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @bridgeoverstrawberryfields @pleasantwitchgarden @cultish-corner

Sorry this took so long, again. What did you think of Harrison? I will explain the Robison's case, I swear. it is coming soon. There will be a flash back case. I will soon redesign the master list so it will be a bit less busy and organise the chapter's in to "Episodes" this will involve a title card for each chapter and the first and last title cards will have quotes to mirror the show's format. so you might want to check out the new title card when I update the fics over the next few days :)

If you love this story or even just like it, leave a comment, like, reblog, ask a question with Character Mail, will be posting some prompt for this soon so keep your eyes peeled. Any interaction is much appreciated and it really motivates me. Love you guys.

if you want to be added to taglist please comment on this post.

TWs:

Sexual assault, Necrophilia : I will try not to be graphic at all in this story, this chapter just has it mentioned as part of what the unsub does

Slight body horror : I will try not to be graphic here, but in autopsy it is found that unsub fills Bladders externally with a injection. then found that it injures the victim to a point where they bleed. Again not going to describe that more than I have too.

Drugs: If you’re not familiar with ADHD meds, you might not know, but they are in the amphetamine family, and in your run-of-the-mill drug test come up false positive. JJ doesn’t know about Grace’s diagnosis, and she is reacting from her experience with the Hankle and Reid’s addiction because of it. The reality is Grace has an interesting relationship with her medication, which will be explored later along with JJ and Grace’s dynamic. but just know JJ is wrong, and Grace is not taking her medication to stay awake, she simply took her medication here because she was worried about not being able to focus because files are boring.

mentions sexual assault of a child: Harrison, Grace's friend and love interest is a nurse in a children's ward is distraught talking about his day on the phone because he had to treat a young patient who was hospitalised from a sexual assault. He asks Grace for advice on how to deal with the knowledge of such awful things happening.

[boardchairman-blog]

**Shots of the Episode**

Perry Mason (2020)

Season 2, Episode 3: “Chapter Eleven” (2023) Director: Jessica Lowrey Cinematographer: Darran Tiernan

[cinemgc]

The Mandalorian (2ª Temp.)

Episodio 3: “Chapter 11: The Heiress“

• Dirección: Bryce Dallas Howard

• Guión: Jon Favreau

• Cinematografía: Matthew Jensen

• Cast: Pedro Pascal

[lumidotexe]

END OF CH 11 “In the Flood" - Page 54

Previous | Next Chapter

Masterpost

phew! after a good 6 months (half a year lmao) this chapter is finally complete! I'm taking time to do some extra work for my job and commissions since money situation is rough. but the next chapter is currently in production!

Help support this comic and my work on my Kofi or Patreon

Huge thanks to my Kofi and Patreon members! Leo Andromeda Matthew Brock AsherSpeaksWord Void/Nym Izzeroni Aleena Ellie Hampton Angeline Moon butterfly Dragon Bud

[hearts4chriss]

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝓰 𝓾 𝓲 𝓭 𝓮 ↰

there is no order to any of this besides anything under “series”

you are responsible for what you read ( minor or not )

hate will not be tolerated

have funnn :)

// ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊

Christopher Sturniolo ↴

𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬 !!

snaps w/ boyfriend! Chris

snaps w/ boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( Latina girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( brown girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( Filipino girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( Asian girl )

snaps you’d take of boyfriend! Chris

snaps of e/o w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w toxic! Chris pt 1

𝐓𝐞��𝐭𝐬 !!

texts w/ boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

texts w/ boyfriend! Chris

texts w/ toxic! Chris pt 1

texts w/ toxic! Chris pt 2

texts w toxic! Chris pt 3

texts and snaps w toxic! Chris pt 4

texts w jealous! Chris

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 !!

“fucking mine” w toxic! Chris 01/27/24

“take a ride” w bf! Chris 02/03/24

“haunted” w bf! Chris 02/06/24

“pour it up” w cocky! Chris! 02/08/24

“eyeblack” w bf! Chris 02/11/24

“tape that shit” w bf! Chris 02/15/24 🫶🏾

“tap that” w bsf! Chris 02/23/24

“Texas baby” w bf! Chris 02/28/24🫶🏾

“Spoiled rotten” w bf’ Chris 03/05/24

“Freshlove for the fit” bf! Chris 03/08/24

"Watch ur mouth" w toxic! chris 03/24/24🫶🏾

"Slice of pizza" w fwb! chris 3/30/24

“That’s my girl” w bsf! Chris 5/13/24🩷

“bratz doll” w bf! Chris 6/23/24 ?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 !!

Nate doe’s little sister

Chapter 01: Babysat by my brothers bestfriend 🫶🏾

Chapter 02: dirty Girl 03/03/24

Chapter 03: splash 4/19/24 🎀🎁 Teaser: snaps & texts

His Princess! (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 01: princess 02/13/24

Chapter 02: under the table 03/17/24

Chapter 03: leather jacket 03/25/24

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Dom! Bf chris: 04/25/24

pussydrunk! bf chris 06/08/24

Matthew Sturniolo ↴

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬 !!

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt ( Latina )

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt + cheerleading black girl

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt

snaps w boyfriend! Matt

snaps w boyfriend! Matt ( Puerto Rican girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Matt

snaps w boyfriend! Matt on tour

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 !!

❌

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

❌

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

sleeping with my professor

Chapter 01: “Teachers Pet” w collegeprofessor Matt 4/15/24

Nicolas Sturniolo ↴

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬 !!

snaps w/ platonic! Nick

snaps w/ platonic! Nick

snaps w/ platonic! Nick

snaps w/ platonic! Nick ( Chris has a crush on u ))

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒

Do NOT send me death threats ( unfortunately it has happened to be from some Matt girls and I love y’all but pls stop )

+ need anything my dms are open :)

+ "Why do you add dates?" honestly so I can keep track of how often / when im posting :)

- all works by me ©hearts4chriss ↰

[i520u]

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝟏𝟏 : 𝟏𝟏 ꒱

highschool!gyuvin x fem!reader 、masterlist

book one 【 star-crossed 】

SYNOPSIS -͟͟͞☆ gyuvin tells himself that he’ll be okay, and losing friends is a part of growing up. he firmly believes that having to move schools in a different city was the universe telling him to try again. he then meets you, and he hates you. he knows he should be thankful that you saved his life, but every time he sees you, he gets annoyed.

GENRE -͟͟͞☆ social media au, fluff, enemies to lovers, comedy (attempted 😿), angst, sfw, maybe slow burn, pining

FEATURING -͟͟͞☆ zb1’s gyuvin hanbin ricky gunwook yujin matthew, riize’s jung sungchan, aespa’s ningning winter karina, boys’ planet’s jeonghyeon kamden

WARNINGS -͟͟͞☆ profanities, kys jokes, kms jokes, substances abuse, drug abuse, underage drinking/smoking, mental illness jokes, etc. warnings will be stated in each chapters!

PROFILES -͟͟͞☆

y/n’s friends

gyuvin’s friends

taglist request is closed .𖥔 ݁ ˖

━━❝ TABLE OF CONTENT ❞

000. 18:57

001. 03:02

002. 07:31

003. 08:12

004. 09:42

005. 19:56

006. 16:33

007. 03:41

008. 23:44

009. 21:37

010. 20:10

011. 11:13

012. 00:38

013. 14:09

014. 15:57

015. 18:21

016. 21:45

017. 17:02

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (the extras) -

chapter xi instagram blurb

mickey speaks : read chapter 11 first then come here!!! or not you do what u want fr

liked by andreatorresss, nicolassturn, and 589 others

y/n three different outfits because it’s my birthday all week idc

view comments

christophersturniolo happy bday friend 😁 !

y/n thank you chris 🤓

nicolassturn PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD JUST TURNED 22 !!!!!!!

y/n prettiest?? oooo imma kiss uuuuu 🫦

nicolassturn you promise ? 😩

christophersturniolo brotha UUEEHHHHHHH

remibaby77 happy birthday my sweet sweet angel 🥹🥹!!!!!!

y/n remmiiiiiiiiii I LOVE YOU

remibaby77 oh i don’t get a kiss…? but the white man does ��😂😂??????

nicolassturn girl why am i in it 😭😭😭😭

y/n NOOOOO rem come over im giving out free kisses tdy

remibaby77 staying far away from ur house actually! those drinks last night were ready to take me out 🕊️

matthew.sturniolo HBD ☀️

y/n thank u matthew

andreatorresss MY PRETTY BEST FRIEND :,(((!!!!!!! i love u happy 22nd bby

y/n I LOVE U MOST

andreatorresss i love u more-er

y/n don’t start w me

andreatorresss we all know i love u the mostest

y/n nuh uh!

andreatorresss yes huh!

y/n shakes head no

andreatorresss crosses arms

christophersturniolo y’all are so not normal 😭

andreatorresss CHRIS MOVE

erinnluhh yayyyy birthday girl 😍😍😍

y/n i❤️❤️❤️you

read more . . .

liked by erinlu, christophersturniolo, and 2,371 others

andreatorresss gf birthday dump ayyy

view comments

christophersturniolo dammnnnnnnn 😮‍💨😮‍💨 i look good

andreatorresss boy where

christophersturniolo omg i didn’t even notice you’re there too. how pretty

andreatorresss get fucked ❤️

christophersturniolo if the implications are implying … well🙏🙏 (i need a jump for joy emoji)

y/n THE FIRST PIC ...i died

andreatorresss noooooo come back 2 me you can’t die ur too sexy

matthew.sturniolo 🔥🔥

andreatorresss 💦💦 put ts out

remibaby77 HUBBBA HUBBA LOOKKAT YOU

andreatorresss hiiiiii (twirling my hair)

nicolassturn gorgeous wow

andreatorresss ily my favorite 🥇

read more . . .

taglist -★

@deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybab @starrysturniolo @st7rnioioss @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @sturnsintrouble @sturnrc @wovenribbons @watercolorskyy @imsosillygoofylol @sturnrc @wh0resstuff @peachmels @udonknowmeh12 @solaceinwritings @h3arts4harry @imaslutforwhitemen @lovingregulusblack @sturnsintrouble @rxeae

[pleasereadmeok]

"Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow?" ...

Matthew froze, confusion flitting over his face along with something I couldn't name...

"I'd like that," he said slowly.

A Discovery of Witches Real Time Read Chapter 11

Yep - I got my shoe horn out again to make the images fit the text. But in the book it's when Matthew drops Diana off at her college that she asks him to dinner - so these images from Ep 3 seemed to fit. 🤷‍♀️

📷 ADOW S1:03 my edit

[eusuntgratie]

this could be a disaster

“I don’t think chemistry will be a problem, Matthew.” He smiles and laughs softly, ducking his head a little before looking back at Nick through the screen. “No, I really don’t think it will.”

chapter 1: you just got me started chapter 2: impossible to ignore you chapter 3: all i think of are your eyes and your fingers and your thighs chapter 4: can't keep my hands to myself chapter 5: se nota cuando me ve' chapter 6: i was supposed to sweat you out chapter 7: i feel the rush chapter 8: you take control i let you do it chapter 9: i wanna bite your lips do some freaky shit chapter 10: ven y choca conmigo que se joda chapter 11: le gusta portarse mal chapter 12: need you want you chapter 13: don't say it chapter 14: nothing feels better than this chapter 15: pray to god this won't be a mess chapter 16: no estoy enamora' pero falta poquito chapter 17: baby i want you around chapter 18: i don't wanna fight this chapter 19: that's the beauty of a secret chapter 20: i push you out and you come right back

she's here! infinite love and thanks to @bigassbowlingballhead <3

playlist

now complete. check out the series link for in-verse ficlets, taylor pov, etc. feel free to send an ask with requests or questions!

check the tags. dm me or send an ask if you're not sure or need spoilers <3

[glassrowboat]

Kiss Me (Kill Me). Dottore.

Summary: And then his breath halted. Nails slotting into the same marks she had left in the leather as he gripped it tightly. One sentence was enough to have his synthetic heart beating wildly, pounding as he took in the most simple phrase possible. After all, how can one mistake the words sitting neatly right before him?

Series warnings: suicidal ideation, gore, Dottore, the author trying their best to write a psychologist without any formal studying themselves, suicide, self harm, drug abuse, unhealthy relationships, depressed reader, reader is her own character, eventual smut, religious symbolism

Chapter one:

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

Matthew 11:28-30

Pages were pinched between deft hands, crinkling them with ease as if the words printed out on them in a rushed, messy scrawl meant no more than a spider being crushed to death under a white tissue. All without so much as a hint of protest, for what could paper do against merciless hands?

It was merely a dead tree at the end of it all. Torn from its root, broken off and left to dry in the heat of a warm day, sapping it of all the life it had only to be dunked back into water. Boiled; down to its most basic properties and pulped. All to be formed into something new: the base that starts a creation. From books, art, or scrawled secrets in a diary.

But the dead do not praise the almighty that snuffed it out, nor do any who go down into silence. So the plant it had once been withers away.

A page was torn, a sound that grated on his ears. Dottore almost recoiled on instinct, having gotten so used to the distinct rip of paper that was torn asunder after hours of work had been documented only to turn out fruitless. A waste of his time and effort as a trash bin would slowly fill and tip over.

A scowl grew on his lips.

Now just what was she doing?

In the matter of a few long strides, Dottore had moved from his spot, leaning against the doorframe to her, grabbing her wrist with ease. Capturing her attention. The woman he dared to whisper the pet name habibi to in the dark of the night between rumpled sheets and had long since dubbed Beauty jolted back, looking up at him in a manner he was well used to by now.

Her gaze was as analytical as always; from the very moment they first met to now in their silent reverie. Observing him in the very same way Dottore looked down at a subject below his eager fingers or a piece of Khaenri’ah's legacy left behind in fragments scattered across Teyvat; breaking them down and building them back up so he may understand every last piece. How it works, how it moves, how it falls, and watch it all come together again with a newfound piece of knowledge to utilize.

But contrary to those moments hidden away in his laboratory, there were no gloves separating Beauty from him like there always was with those who lay strapped down on a stainless steel vivisection table. Nay, there was only the warmth of skin against skin he had so greedily chosen to relish in for he was a man who has never tasted sweetness being drawn in by the red sheen of an apple, pointed teeth biting into it for the first time as its juices befouled his maw. Not even the snap of blue rubber against his wrists could save him from the heat of her touch.

That was something Dottore had learned long ago.

“This is the first time I've seen you out of bed in days, and it's to tear apart your work?” Dottore questioned.

At least, that's what he assumed it was. She hadn't even given him the proper chance to peek at the pages he was expecting to see littered with bullet points and breakdowns of this subject or that one all in glittery ink before her free hand was brushing it all away. Nearly knocking it off the desk as she formed a measly excuse of a stack. Ruffling could be heard, but that paled to how her fingers were splayed wide to block his prying eyes.

Only a few messy words had caught his attention, drawing him in before she ripped everything right out from under him. Sheets of paper a rug his feet weren't even planted on suddenly throwing him off balance.

Tilting his head back to thunk against something all with the gentle scoff, she huffed, not even looking up at him as “peeking now” was asked in an accusatory tone.

“Could you blame a scholar for being curious?”

“Yes, I can.”

He felt her swatting at his chest, touch as light as the gentle caress of a falling feather, as she tried to get Dottore to give her some space; if not an ample amount. It's just like she's been insisting on for days now. Endlessly. Assurances of how she's fine, that they're fine, and everything is simply peachy besides the fact she's simply been feeling a little under the weather as of late have been stuffed into his ears again and again like cotton swabs. Soon, no doubt, they would pierce the tympanic membrane and leave only blood in their wake. For today, it had reached the two week mark, and Beauty was still insisting she was “fine.”

It took no effort on Dottore's part to capture the offending limb.

His thumb ran over her wrist, over her racing pulse, until he was tracing the lines on her palm. Mapping out how they curved around them and shifted with each flex of her hand. “Someone's nervous.”

“You..” Beauty's voice trailed off, fading down to a whisper only from uttering one word. But still, he stared down at her, waiting for a proper answer on what this entire debacle had been about. “And you know I don't like you going over my work when it's incomplete.”

Dottore's fingers twitched, threatening to tighten his hold on her before he let her go.

“Then I suppose I should have come home at my usual hour then. That way, you would have had the time to hide this”- he gestured to the mess on the vanity- “away.”

Of course, she jumped, nearly throwing herself off a cliff in the process, at the chance to change the subject. “Actually, I was wondering why you're back early. You're usually so wrapped up in work.”

Which would usually end with Dottore trudging through their bedroom door after a long day, only to slip his coat off as silently as possible to drape it over a lone chair off to the side. A dull blue light would always fill the corner as he came back, flickering over his face and hers as Beauty laid in bed, illuminating the way her eyelids twitched in irritation at the sudden glow; still, she always pretended to be asleep anyway.

Never stirring from the covers.

Not even as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and slipped into the bathroom to get ready for the quiet night that awaited him; one of Dottore staring up at the ceiling while she slowly fell into the depths of the dream world he had once been ecstatic at having access to when he first ripped the Akasha from his ear and called it what it truly was: a limitation. An inhibitor. A chain wrapped around the necks of human beings like they were dogs to be shackled by Celestia's will.

The very same irking feeling at the thought greeted Dottore tonight like an old friend, beckoning him as he made his way downstairs, pulling her along with him and away from her supposed work and the wooden vanity so they could have dinner together.

Though she had first insisted on cleaning up, on getting rid of the “trash” she had “dared to pen down in the first place.” Her purple bound leather notebook with loose, torn pages sticking out of the sides was suddenly shoved into a nearby waste bin and quickly taken out to be dumped by one of the maids as they worked. All before he could even make out the design stamped into the front.

It was so unlike her, but she always did have a way of confounding him.

A reticent meal had taken up his evening; one Dottore never would have imagined bothering with five years ago, not when he could have been down in the lab with the sounds of metal clanging or the gentle hum of a machine running as he tinkered with a ruin guard. Rust would be filling his nose rather than the scent of roasted duck as he was left with something that would at least make eye contact (or the closest a ruin guard can get to such) without Dottore having to draw its chin up to look at him.

Her eyes boring into his before she pushed Dottore's hand away and told him to eat lest he let another meal go cold before he finished it. Again.

So he laid in their shared bed, the taste of mint still on Dottore's tongue from brushing his teeth after dinner, and once again started counting each dot in the ceiling above as he stared up at the all too familiar sight.

When he was younger, before he knew the truth about the false sky and the lies it whispered to him, a little boy with wide eyes and his mother’s favorite blanket wrapped around his shoulders to keep off the starving cold had done the same with the stars. No matter how itchy it had been, he would have tugged it closer, welcomed its warm embrace, as he wordlessly mouthed the words:

One thousand forty-three.

One thousand forty-four.

One thousand forty-five.

Until he was dragged inside by a hand that grabbed him a little too tightly to do the very thing Beauty had now: to fall asleep.

Her breathing steady, as unshakable as those devout to prayers and a lifetime in pews as Beauty laid curled up against one of the many pillows littering the bed, taking more comfort in the foam stuffed inside it rather than Dottore and his awaiting arms. Comfortably, her nose sat buried away in the shirt she had stolen from him, again, and her legs coiled themselves up in the sheets. She always did have a way of taking them from him in the midst of slumber.

It would be so easy to pull that damnable pillow from her clutches, to throw it off to the side and hold her close until the morning came, and he'll have to leave when the sun rises. Casting its glow across her form lying alone. Only an imprint of his body in the mattress for company, but the few words he has been able to catch scratched out from the mess of papers have been worming at his brain the entire time he had laid there counting away.

Maggots to a corpse.

Feasting on curiosity he had in spades.

One thousand fifty-two, Dottore counted.

His name had been painted across the pages. Dottore, Zandik, and the nickname she called him. Matching the one he had for her. Back then, she had a smile on her face that had halted his breath, just the way it did as he stared at handwriting he could recall all the way down to every flick of an E.

Observations, no doubt, for human behavior was her bread and butter; the very air she breathed; and the ink spilling from her pen as she wrote down every sin he dared to confess.

He had received hundreds of reports from her by now, far too many to count but stored away nonetheless, about the latest test subjects detailing every last thing she could think of. To the point that he already had a vague idea of what she would have written about him, but it was more than that. It had to be. For she wouldn't have tossed that damn journal out otherwise.

Cast it aside like dross.

With one last lingering glance her way as Beauty snored against the sheets, Dottore got out of bed.

The floorboards didn't even so much as creek below him as he walked to the door and shut it with a silent click.

A book of all things was haunting him. Causing Dottore to leave his chambers in the middle of the night to make his way down chilled halls. The presence of the cryo Archon herself decorating each corridor, each twist and turn, with the cold he had worked so hard to combat a few centuries ago with heaters so hot to the touch you couldn't even graze past one without it leaving a burn on any trace of exposed flesh. (As learned from personal experience).

Zapolyarny Palace's rubbish room should be…

The flutter of his white jacket followed Dottore as he pulled it on, having only just plucked it from where it hung before the door had smacked him in the face he made his way down a flight of steps.

Briefly, Dottore could hear his segments over their shared network prying into what he was doing. Or arguing with themselves, really; that seemed to be their favorite hobby. They always had something to say. To jabber about to the point that tamping each voice down had become second nature.

Shutting them out was easy, something he had done millions of times by now. And that was just this past six months.

The last thing he heard, flickering out as the connection was temporarily cut to dull the ache in his head was Epsilon. Petulant, as between the radio static Dottore caught something about “and you say I'm the one who should mind their own business.”

Then, all Dottore was left with was the loud groan of the trash compactor. A sound that had welcomed him time and time again after all the times he had been down here. His shoes had always hit the floor louder than necessary as he had to deal with tossing supplies that unfortunately hadn't lasted through his experiments.

It creaks a nostalgic hum.

But that wasn't why he was here.

Flexing his hands, the leather of his gloves moving with them, Dottore set to digging through the plastic bags in front of him. Tossing anything that wasn't his goal out of the way, cluttering the floor with paper cups, shredded files, and whatever else had been used and forgotten. A lesser man might have been disgusted, but this was just another Tuesday.

And then his fingers met the stained purple leather.

Kalpalata lotus print embedded on the front.

A white figure huddled over trash stood in the middle of the room, a reverent touch grazing over the cover of the journal covered in scratches and fingernails prints worn into the leather just like the flower marking the front from having gripped it too tightly.

Surely, if someone came in now, they'd look at him as if he was crazed. Maybe even shout about ghosts suddenly intruding on the palace; to which he'd only laughed.

Taking the treasure in his grasp, Dottore turned it over methodically, studying just how well worn it was. Threadbare, down to the bone as the binding threatens to fall out on him, the first page already hanging out of the book as he opens it to read his habibi’s name claiming this as hers all with one simple signature staining the surface; in a way that he couldn't find himself to mind even with the occasional drops of ink.

It was enough to have Dottore pulling his gloves off, throwing them to the floor to collect later so he could trace over each word. Even with the splatters, it was still so much neater than his own notes written down in a crazed frenzy.

And then his breath halted.

Nails slotting into the same marks she had left in the leather as he gripped it tightly.

One sentence was enough to have his synthetic heart beating wildly, pounding as he took in the most simple phrase possible.

After all, how can one mistake the words:

Wouldn't it all be easier if I was dead?

In pure black ink. No colored pens, no glitter, not even doodles in the margins or a little heart just for him, a sight Dottore had grown well used to seeing in her reports to him.

The sight made him want to hurl the book into the shadows of the room around him. Let it be forgotten between heaps of trash and plastic bags. They could hide the pages, cover them in scraps of food, and soak in the drops of half finished drink until each letter was blurred beyond recognition.

She did, after all, decide it was trash.

So wouldn't it make sense he let it be treated like it was? As long as it meant never seeing those words again.

His arm was already extended, waiting to toss it into the foul abyss and say good riddance, but what would that do, really?

In the end, he still knew.

Dottore could sit here, close his eyes, and picture that damned sentence again all because he knew.

That simple fact was enough to have Dottore grimacing in annoyance. Mind telling him the obvious, just as always, even in this moment where his emotions were stirring into a storm. Clouds in his veins and behind the eyes, raining down as he flipped to the next page.

Thursday, May 13, 1675.

Graduation was today.

I sat with a few other people in my Darshan in the cheap chairs they set up (one I swear gave me a splinter) and watched as people took their scrolls with smiles on their faces. Years of work finally came to fruition.

Good for them, really. Good for me. Or, at least, that's what I tried to remind myself as I climbed up on stage and faked a smile as I was congratulated for making it this far. But even then, I was glad to cast that hat aside, the yellow Vahumana badge staring back at me as I put it away for the last time.

Another page.

Wednesday, May 19, 1675.

I have everything packed up and ready to go for my trip back home. My clothes were cleaned and folded, books were stored in cardboard boxes (I never noticed how many I've bought or been gifted over these past few years until I saw three boxes stuffed full), knick knacks wrapped in paper for safe travel, and the key to my room set out to be returned to the dorm mother tomorrow morning.

Everything is ready for me to leave and forget these hallowed halls.

Just like my roommate already has.

She didn't even say anything to me other than a passing goodbye as she left. It's not like I was surprised. Still, you think someone you have lived with for so long would be missed despite the harsh tension between us, but maybe that's just my own feelings.

Regardless, I'll be heading back to my family home soon, at least. So that is some comfort for whatever it's worth. Even if that does mean I'll have to prepare answers for the questions they will undoubtedly ask.

And another.

Saturday, May 22, 1675.

I have just arrived back home and already I want to leave.

My family was all smiles as they welcomed me in, told me to unpack what I could before dinner, and then barged into my room to talk.

What were your classes like? What did you do while you were gone? Did you make any friends? ….And I couldn't bring myself to tell them that no, I don't think I did. Not unless you count the someone I kept bothering for the sake of helping me translate texts full of the old Sumerian dialect for my papers.

Sunday, May 23, 1675.

Sunday dinners are the same as ever, I see. The last time I had to deal with this was when I was a freshman and visited for the first official break between semesters. From there, I decided I would prefer to stay in the dorms even when it's the holidays.

But tonight, I sat before a plate full of sabz meat stew and rice and watched everyone bow their heads as my family prayed in thanks.

The entire time I refused to even blink.

Friday, May 28, 1675.

I need to find a job. At least, that's what I've been telling myself for the past five days.

The very idea of getting up and searching is draining, but so is putting a smile on as someone pops their head into my room (without knocking, mind you) and asking how I'm doing. To which I always respond with I'm fine.

I’m fine.

I have to be.

Monday, May 31, 1675.

No more heads have been poking into my room, not since I told them I was going to join the Fatui despite all the other places I applied and got accepted into. The looks I got when I told everyone over dinner, right after they all prayed, had been priceless. Completely, utterly, stupefied, and I had to keep myself from laughing.

At the very least, this new job will keep my mind distracted. I won't be able to sit at home staring at family photos from when I was younger and- all that matters is I can keep my mind distracted.

A busy mind is a good thing, keep it from wandering, so I intend to let it stay that way.

And lastly:

Friday, June 13, 1675.

Dottore traced his fingers over the date, one he knew well. Not that he'd willingly admit that. If anyone did dare to ask, they would be simply dismissed, waved away as Dottore tells them something along the lines of “I have no need to pay attention to anniversaries.”

The thirteenth of July. It was the first day she started working for him.

Dottore found himself walking back inside, journal tucked into his jacket to make sure Beauty wouldn't see it in case she was awake and sleepily tripping over her own two feet in an attempt to find him to drag him back to bed. The door to his steady swung open without so much as a creak and closed just as silently. Lock turning in place before Dottore sat down in the couch chair he so rarely used these days; not when she was always there nagging him about how it would give Dottore crooks in his neck if he fell asleep there one more time.

Her hands lingering on his shoulders and lips pressed to his mask…

Dottore pushed the wry grin that threatened to grow on his face down, opting to lean back into that same chair that threatened to swallow him into the cushions the same way the open book did its pages.

Devouring his attention.

Settling in had been…far from fun, but I unpacked what I needed for the night and left it at that; the rest can be dealt with later. Besides, compared to the day I had a few cardboard boxes barely mattered. After all, what could compare to meeting the elusive Lord Harbinger Il Dottore himself?

The endless white halls had already started to blur together, forming a maze in your head as you tried to map out each and every turn of a corner as you followed behind the man in front of you. The stray posters tacked up on the wall about lab safety barely differentiated one place from another, not even with their cheesy lines and reminders to use basic common sense. All you could rely on at the moment was the one dutifully leading you along, giving you a tour inside the depths of Zapolyarny Palace like it was nothing.

For him it surely must be.

But you were stuck watching the swing of his badge as every step you both took it moved back and forth, taunting you. It was in Snezhnayan, not common, meaning you were left glaring at symbols you couldn't understand all because you hadn't heard the man's name properly when he introduced himself after giving you a pair of safety glasses.

Lab mandated, apparently.

They would take time to get used to and you can already see yourself forgetting to take them off at the end of the day, but for now you were focusing on the tour you were being given as you chewed over the idea of just simply asking for his name again.

But by now, it felt a little too late to ask again. Even if it just was for clarifications sake.

The tapping of shoes came to a halt as you both stopped before a pair of open doors leading to a giant room. It was mostly bare, but it had three practice dummies close to the wall currently falling from the pikes they had been strung up. Keeling over onto the black stained floor beneath them covered in ash.

A lone boot print stood in the inky black, leaving a patch of white into the inky abyss.

And more boot prints trailed a path along the floor until they fully disappeared.

“And here is where we run physical trials for test subjects.” He shot you a look as he said: “but I don't think you'll be here much.”

You only nodded in response.

Another room came after another hall to add to your mental map you had long since lost track of as everything seemed to wander off into dead-end alleys and dark dungeons. All as the sound of rustling clothes filled your ears and mindless chatter about how working down here had been for him. Even in a place known as Heresy’s he managed to seem carefree as a door was pushed open to an archive.

Hand above your head to give you the chance to peek in to see stacks of books right from the moment the door swung open with a loud groan.

You could already see yourself spending far too much time in here as your eyes scanned over the seemingly endless rows, but you weren't given much of a chance to take it all in before you were on to the next stop.

You both passed by a few labs. Some seemed calmer than others, some had posters about safety lining the walls, but all of them had you pulling your head away only seconds after sticking it in the doorway to scrunch up your nose as the smell of disinfectant and other chemicals you couldn't place assaulted you.

For a moment, you heard your tour guide mutter a “bless you” as you sneezed (again) before walking on ahead to another sector of Heresy's.

One full of hustle and bustle as people in lab coats moved around the room with an ease that only came from knowing a space inside and out. Shuffling around giant crates, pieces of machinery you couldn't name but certainly recognized from a few constructions in Sumeru you had been told not to stray near, and steel tables all currently occupied with Fatui.

Faces hidden away by metal masks.

Just like the ones who openly walked around under the Tsarita's employ back home, never sparing you a glance.

The masks were only lifted away long enough for a light to be shined in their eyes, ones you always questioned as you passed them by on the streets or in Lambad's tavern, and then their faces were hidden away again. Blocked from sight so the individual fell away, and they once again belonged to the mass. To the service. To the worship of their beloved cryo Archon.

Would there be mercy in the eyes of the neighboring nations' people as they fulfill Her orders? Dutifully listening to whatever they're told simply because someone divine uttered a word or two.

The only thing that halted your train of thought with a resounding screech, breaks pulled back and forced to kick up sparks along well worn rails that lit your mind afire was the same man's voice who had been showing you around calling your name. All so your gaze could follow his pointed finger towards one figure in the room.

Pointing, pointing, and pointing towards a head of blue hair and a black mask.

Funny, you could have sworn you saw that same distinct shade in a few of the other sectors before you had been encouraged to keep up with the wave of a hand.

But the man at the other end of a finger and its broken nail was standing tall as everyone moved around him. A lone figure unbothered by the crowd that already had your shoulders tensing as someone passed behind you with a quick call of an “excuse me.”

“It's rude to point you know.” You said, trying to make a joke as you took everything in at once.

Between bustling figures was an earring like beryl only for it to glow the same way the flicker of a flaming torch lighting up the darkest of nights would, clothes ironed but clearly rumbled from today's work, and a mask with the gleam of burnished aluminum as this man stood before an occupied steel table. (You had later been told the correct term is vivisection table). A hand over a random Fatuus arm, checking for something or another with rippling skin as the limb was turned this way or that; discolored, but against the pale skin the bruises looked like the ice cold ocean you had sailed upon as a boat took you further and further away from your home.

You didn't even register your tour guide, saying that being rude was the least of your worries as that mask turned towards you. The end of its beak, birdlike as it was, stabbing at the air between you and who you could only guess was-

“Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

An arm was dropped, forgotten about with ease as Dottore himself moved to stand before you.

The man beside you bowed his head in respect, and you followed his example.

Head lowered, safety glasses sliding off your face and only stopping thanks to your ears as the sound of a multitude filled the air. All from a sentence so short it barely came across as a sign of acknowledgment.

“You must be the new hire.”

“I am.”

“I hope you prove your worth then. I would hate to have wasted my time bringing you here only to have a lack of results from bringing in a psychologist for my test subjects.” A pause. “But I am sure you understand. After all, you are only here temporarily. A trial run if you will.”

And as you looked up, meeting Dottore face to mask, all you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. Dark circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep you were able to get last night having tossed and turned in an unfamiliar bed before you slowly succumbed to the constant pull at your mind to let it all go.

To simply rest.

For humanity, after all the time you have sat back with a colored pen and a notebook in hand, it has spilled its secrets to you. That it is afflicted in every way; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.

And you could only say you long since stopped hoping for destruction to turn a blind eye to you.

“Well, I am honored to be here as a trail run, Lord Harbinger.”

You didn't miss the way his lips curled up, twisting to reveal pointed teeth as Dottore drawled out. “Good. Then we're on the same page."

[luvangelbreak]

Deprived | Fourteen

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smutty smut smut, oral (fem!receiving / male!receiving), fingering word count: 3.6k a/n: i kinda went off with this one?? i kinda fucking ate??? i actually am so proud of this chapter????

pov: layla

I don't know what was going through my head. I didn't understand why I was doing what I was doing. I never wanted to be this close to someone, figuratively and literally, but something felt different about Matt. He gave me something I had never felt before and I couldn't figure out what it was.

I hated it at first, it made me never want to see him again. But instead, I felt myself drawn towards him soon after our drive to McDonald's. His sense of naivety, innocence and pure love for the world made me want to protect him from it. I knew I would destroy it if I stuck around too long but selfishly, I wanted to be the one to show him what life was like outside of his beautiful little bubble.

So I popped it and leaned in to place my lips against his. He didn't move for a moment and I thought I had made the wrong move, maybe he didn't want this. But then that feeling washed away when his mouth moved against mine gently, his lips sliding against my own in a soft and caring manner.

It was like that for a moment, soft and delicate just like he was. But there was a switch, a moment of passion and adrenaline between us and I moved to straddle his waist, a heavy breath leaving his lips when I did so. He placed his hands on my waist, gentle fingertips gripping the warm skin of my hips so softly as if he thought I would break if he pressed too hard.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, sliding myself forward as I tangled my hands in his brown curly hair. I couldn't stop myself, my body felt like it was out of my brain's control as I pressed my body against his further as our mouths moved in sync. I'd kissed people before, I'd been this close physically to someone before, but it never felt like this.

There was always a disconnect, a gap no one could ever quite fill. There was never a passion, a longing to hold someone so tightly as if you were scared they would slip away at any moment until this point in time.

I rolled my hips forward over his own, a groan emitting from his mouth that ignited a fire in my stomach that I couldn't ignore any longer. I repeated my actions and I felt his hands gripped my hips ever so slightly tighter.

"Layls," he mumbled breathlessly against my lips and I barely pulled away, still rolling my waist back and forth against his.

"What is it, pretty boy?" I asked softly, catching his lips in mine again quickly before I pulled back again, this time opening my eyes to see his cheeks had a tint of pink across them, his lips slightly puffed.

"Are- are you sure this is okay?" he asked quietly and I smiled at his genuine concern before I nodded.

"Mhm. Are you okay with this?" I asked in the same hushed tone, using my fingernails to scratch the nape of his neck lightly and he nodded, "I need words."

"Yes," he answered quickly before leaning forward, connecting his lips with mine again. There wasn't a hesitance to his actions anymore, his hands gripping my sides unapologetically as his hips began rolling into my own.

A whine escaped from my lips as he squeezed my hips and I felt him smile against my lips, the heat building between my thighs as every second passed. I pulled his bottom lips between my teeth, biting down lightly, a hum emitting from him. I kissed him gently again before biting his lip ever so slightly harder eliciting a moan from his lips.

I pulled back and looked down at him, a smirk on my lips as I said, "Matthew Sturniolo, do you have a pain kink?"

"A little," he answered quietly, looking up at me with dilated pupils as his eyes glazed over with lust and a smile on his lips.

"Cute," I mumbled as I leaned forward, placing my lips on his and he melted into me again.

I began grinding my hips against his again and he let out a small, "Fuck."

"Matt," I breathed heavily as I continued kissing him, "You don't have to be so gentle."

"I don't wanna do something you don't like," he responded quietly, placing a kiss on my lips as our breathing got heavier.

"I'll tell you if I don't just please..." I trailed off as I tugged on the hairs on the nape of his neck and I moved to trail kisses down his jawline before I whispered in his ear, "Touch me."

That was all he needed before the switch flipped in his brain, his hands travelling from my waist to grab my ass roughly. I let out a heavy breath, still trailing kisses down his neck before I sucked on the skin just below his jaw. He let out a groan and unexpectedly I was flipped over onto my back, a gasp leaving my lips from the sudden movement.

He sat between my legs, leaning up to slide his shirt off of his head and I stared at his torso in awe. I never got sick of looking at him and I'd spend all day just staring at him if I could.

"You okay?" he asked while crawling over me, placing his hands on either side of my head and I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him down to my lips again.

He trailed his right hand down to my waist, gripping it lightly before his hand slowly made its way up my shirt. He smiled against my lips when he reached my chest, realising I wasn't wearing a bra.

"Can I take this off?" he asked against my lips, tugging on my shirt lightly and I nodded. He leaned back and I gripped his forearm to pull myself up. He grasped the hem of my shirt, sliding it up my body at a teasingly slow pace as I lifted my arms up, allowing him to pull it over my head before throwing it onto the bed beside us.

I fell back onto the bed and I looked up to see him staring at me below him. Instinctually, I covered my chest and stomach with my arms but Matt reached his hands forward, gently grabbing my wrists and pulling my hands away from my body slowly.

"Don't hide from me, pretty girl," he whispered as he leaned forward gently trailing kisses down my neck as I tilted my head to the side to give him more access. He made his way down to my chest, looking up at me as if to study my reaction as he kissed between my boobs making me shudder.

He pecked kisses all over my chest as I tried to steady my breathing. I felt slight anxiety being so exposed to him, the vulnerability making me feel uncomfortable but I didn't want him to stop. I let out a whine as he wrapped his mouth around my left nipple, using his hand to knead my other boob. I tilted my head back, my hands finding their way to his hair before tugging on it slightly making him groan around me.

As he sucked and licked my chest, I shifted on the bed. The ache between my legs was becoming unbearable as he began lowering himself further, kissing down my stomach and I sucked in my stomach subconsciously. He paused, looking up at me as I let go of his hair.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked softly and my eyebrows furrowed.

"Doing what?" I questioned back and he placed his palm on my stomach.

"You don't have to suck in your stomach, pretty girl. I think you're beautiful just the way you are," he looked at me with a soft smile and I sighed, letting my stomach return back to its normal shape. He smirked up at me before trailing kisses along my waist. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts before mumbling, "Can I take these off?"

"Please," I pleaded, lifting my hips up to show my urgency. He chuckled as he leaned back further, pulling my shorts down before I kicked them off my feet. He leaned back over me, placing his left hand beside my head to hold himself up as he kissed my lips again.

He suddenly cupped my pussy with his right hand over my underwear making me moan into his mouth. He began circling my clit painfully slowly and I bucked my hips upward to make him hurry up.

"So impatient," he mumbled against my lips before he pulled his hand away making me whine from the loss of contact. He continued kissing me before he slid his thumb on the inside of the waistband of my underwear making me shudder. He teasingly dragged his thumb against my skin before he pulled back from me, sitting back on his heels to look down at me.

He hooked his hands inside the waistband, looking at my face for any sign to stop as I shifted under him. He pulled my underwear over my legs at a slow pace before I kicked them off my feet like I'd done with my shorts moments prior. I clenched my thighs together, insecurity flooding me again and he ran his hands along my thighs. Wettness was pooling between my legs so much that I was convinced I was dripping onto the sheets below me.

"You okay?" he asked while squeezing the flesh of my thighs in his palms and I nodded, "Words, baby."

"I'm okay," I mumbled, still holding my thighs together as I placed my arms over my stomach, "I'm just completely naked and you're still in jeans."

"You want me to take 'em off?" he asked, a smirk on his lips once more and I nodded quickly. He began unbuttoning his jeans while looking into my eyes as I breathed heavily. He undid the zipper before pulling them past his waist, sliding them over his knees and kicking them off his feet. My eyes trailed down his body seeing the imprint of his dick through his black boxers making me bite my lip. His hands travelled back down to my thighs, gently pulling them apart before he stared down at my pussy.

"Don't just stare at me. Do something," I demanded impatiently and he chuckled, shuffling down so his head was between my thighs as he lay on his stomach. He trailed kisses down my thighs, sucking and biting at them every now and then as I whined, "Matt."

"What is it, pretty girl?" he mumbled against my skin and I threw my hands back, balling the sheets between my fists.

"Please. I need you to do something," I asked quietly and he chuckled against my thigh. The scruff on his cheeks brushed against my thigh as he made his way down to my core, wrapping his arms around my thighs to hold them in place.

He licked a stripe up my core making me whine loudly from the sudden friction. That was all the confirmation he needed before he wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking and licking softly as moans tumbled from my mouth. I moved my right hand to his hair, tangling it between my fingers as my hips shifted to grind against his face.

I tugged on his hair roughly eliciting a moan from his mouth that travelled straight to my clit, the vibrations making another loud moan fall out of my lips.

"Fuck, Matt," I panted as I tilted my head back, my back arching in pure pleasure. The hair on his cheeks added to the sensory overload I was feeling, my thighs clenching around his head making him hum against me. He removed his hands from around my thighs, one of them reaching up to grab my boobs roughly as the other joined his face between my legs.

He slowly inserted a finger into my pussy making me pull on his hair once again as he moaned into my clit again. He began pumping his finger in and out of me slowly as he pulled his mouth away to look up at me, his chin dripping with my wetness making him somehow look even sexier than before.

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth and my breathing became more rapid. He carefully added another finger and I clenched around him as he looked down at my pussy in awe. He let go of my boob, quickly finding my hand that was gripping the sheets beside me and threaded our fingers together before his head dipped back down to my core.

The sensation of his hand in mine, his hair running against my thighs as his mouth worked on my bundle of nerves while his fingers quickened their pace made the knot in my stomach tighten and I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

"Matt," I moaned out as I pulled on his hair even tighter as he hummed against me, "I'm gonna-"

My words were cut off by a moan and I squeezed his hand tightly. I pulled his head impossibly closer towards me as his tongue swirled my clit rapidly and I let incomprehensible noises fall from my mouth.

"You wanna cum, baby?" he mumbled against me, the vibrations adding to the pleasure even more.

"Uh-huh," I panted, my hips shifting as I came so close to my high.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," he demanded as he went impossibly faster on my clit, his fingers feeling like heaven inside of me. It pushed me over the edge, finally reaching the climax I had been chasing.

"Fuck, Matt!" I yelled as my thighs squeezed around his head as he worked me through my high. My legs shook uncontrollably around him and he moaned against me, rutting his hips into the mattress below him. He slowed his pace as I clenched around his fingers, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

I let go of his hair as he carefully pulled his fingers out of me before placing one last kiss on my clit making my body jerk at the sudden contact again. He kept his other hand in mine as he moved to kneel between my thighs again, bringing his fingers between his lips and sucking them clean.

How does he get hotter with everything he does?

He crawled back over me, placing a gentle kiss on my lips before smiling against them, whispering, "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

I smiled against him, tasting myself as I ran my tongue along his lips before I let go of his other hand, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

"My turn," I mumbled against his lips before I pushed him onto his back and I climbed on top of his thighs. He let out a huff from the unexpected movement.

"Layls, you don't have to-"

"I want to," I cut him off as I ran my hands along the soft skin of his chest. Although I was sweating, my nipples were rock hard from the cold air and I bit my lip looking down at him, "I wanna make you feel good. Please."

He smiled up at me before nodding and I pursed my lips, hiding the shit-eating grin that threatened to cover my face as he said, "Just know I don't expect you to."

I let the grin now cover my face from his sweetness and I nodded before saying, "Tell me if you don't like anything I do."

"I like everything you do," he replied smoothly making me shake my head before I shuffled down, hooking my hands under the waistband of his boxers. His chest rose and fell rapidly as I slowly pulled the boxers down his thighs, his dick springing out and hitting his stomach from how hard he was.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself as I looked at the length in front of me, not realising how big he was until now. I moved off of his lap, sliding his boxers off of his legs and onto the floor before I grabbed his knees, sliding them apart.

I moved to kneel between his legs which were still flat on the bed as I felt him observe every move I made. I felt the wetness pool between my legs again just from looking at him splayed out on the bed. My eyes locked with his and I smiled, a giddy feeling arising in my stomach. His mouth was hung open, his eyes filled with lust making me want to pleasure him even more.

I shuffled down even further, carefully wrapping my right hand around the base of his dick making him hiss from the sudden contact. I slowly began pumping him in my hand as I shuffled back, bending forward to give him the perfect view of my ass.

I paused the movement of my hand, licking a stripe from the base of his dick all of the way to the tip making him whine as he clenched his eyes closed, balling the sheets in his fists as if to contain himself. I kissed his tip, a whimper falling from his lips before he looked down at me. I opened my mouth, looking up at him as I began taking his tip into my mouth, my tongue swirling around it teasingly before I pushed my head down. He hit the back of my throat and I closed my eyes, thankful my gag reflex was practically nonexistent.

A moan escaped his lips as I bobbed my head up and down, my hand working on the rest of his length that I couldn't fit into my mouth. His hips jerked forward, his tip hitting the back of my throat roughly and a choked moan left his mouth.

"Fuck, sorry," he mumbled and I looked up to see an apologetic look on his face, letting me know he didn't mean to move his hips. I pulled back, spitting into my palm before working my hand around him faster as he panted heavily, whimpers and whines leaving his lips desperately.

I swiped my thumb over his tip, a loud moan leaving his lips involuntarily as he bucked once again. I smiled at him as he tilted his head back, his jaw clenching. I continued pumping his dick quickly, running my hand over his tip every now and then eliciting a moan from him every time.

I let my hand go from around him, placing it on his stomach as I leaned forward. I kissed his tip before I forced my mouth down on him, taking him fully as I felt him bulge in my throat. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as they began watering, the sensation winding me up once again.

"Fuck!" he yelled, gripping my hair roughly making me moan around him as he began guiding my head over his length. Unimaginable noises emitted from his throat as he gripped my hair, sliding me up and down his dick with ease.

I let him use my head however he wanted, going as fast and rough as he needed to feel good. I quickly tapped his stomach and he loosened his pressure on my hair, allowing me to come up for air as I used my hand to pump him again.

"You feel good, pretty boy?" I panted, catching my breath the best I could as he nodded, catching his own breath before I pushed my head back down, taking him down my throat once again and he moaned so loudly I wouldn't be surprised if the whole neighbourhood could hear him.

"I'm gonna cum," he said so quickly I almost didn't catch it and I quickened my pace as he whined loudly. He gripped my hair tightly making me moan around him.

"Oh god," he moaned loudly before I felt a warm liquid coat my mouth and I continued to work around him, slowing my pace so he didn't get overstimulated too quickly, "Oh my fucking god, Layla."

I pulled him out of my mouth with a pop before I swallowed the cum, some of it dripping from the side of my mouth. He let go of my hair, reaching his hand around and wiping the liquid from the side of my mouth. I grabbed his wrist, pulling it toward me before I slid his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it gently as he looked at me in awe.

I pulled his thumb out and he smiled at me as I crawled forward, laying down on his chest as my legs fell between his. I placed my hand on his chest before putting my chin on the back of my hand, looking up at him with a smile as he caught his breath.

"You will be the death of me, woman," he mumbled with a dopey smile and I giggled at him, pushing a few pieces of hair out of his face with my other hand.

"You're welcome," I smiled up at him and he wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me tight against him. He swirled my lower back with his thumb gently before I leaned up, placing another kiss on his lips. I pulled the covers over our naked bodies despite the fact we were both warm from our activities but I wanted to keep his warmth on me as long as possible.

"If you stay on me like this, I'll get hard again," he smirked as he looked down at me and I smiled, shrugging my shoulders.

"I won't be mad if you do," I giggled to myself, the dopamine of my high still travelling through my brain as he pulled a hand up, brushing my hair behind my ear gently.

"You're so cute," he whispered as he leaned forward, placing a kiss on my forehead and I closed my eyes contently, hoping I could stay in this moment forever.

tags:

@ilovechrissturniolo1 @sturnfix @lilsstvrn @sturniololol @sturniolowhore @dsturniolo @chrisstankyleg @lov3bug @pinklittleflower @thatcrazybitch-69 @trinity2058 @alorsxsturn @leprechaunbirthdaygirl

[beegomess]

Dark Paradise | Theodore Nott

Prologue:

Despite being born together, Y/N and Draco were very distinct in terms of personality. While Draco enjoyed belittling those who were not part of his elitist circle, Y/N saw no reason to be bothered by the mere existence of others. Both were raised under their parents' indulgence, inheriting Lucius's pride and Narcissa's elegance, but Y/N stood out for her kindness, even if she preferred to keep her distance from the other houses at Hogwarts.

Even before they set foot in Hogwarts, they knew exactly which house they would be placed in. At just 11 years old, the Malfoy siblings and their friends began to form the group that would later be known as the Slytherin Elite. This exclusive group included the Malfoys, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Matthew Riddle, the Greengrass sisters Daphne and Astoria, and Theodore Nott—all from the most influential families already allocated to that house.

Y/N had always been disciplined and determined, following the rules to achieve her goals, and, if necessary, was willing to break them to reach her aims.

As they grew older, Draco and Y/N felt the pressure increasing. Their father's expectations became more demanding each year, but they met all of them, aware that soon they would have to face the world outside the walls of Hogwarts.

By the end of their fourth year, the atmosphere at Hogwarts was charged with teenage tensions: crushes, discoveries, and maturation. Y/N Malfoy stood out not only for her beauty and intelligence but also for the aura of inaccessibility that seemed to surround her, keeping her out of reach for most.

However, behind this impenetrable image, Y/N harbored secrets. She used to say she had a reputation to maintain, revealing only to her closest friends, Daphne and Pansy.

"Pansy, do you really think my heart is so cold that I've never felt anything for anyone?" Y/N laughed, but a pang of discomfort accompanied her, as she was hiding the truth from a friend she considered like a sister.

Y/N and Theodore had never been close. He was Draco's friend, attending his parties and formal dinners, spending weekends at the Malfoy mansion with the group. At parties with drinks and cigarettes, they occasionally talked, but Y/N always found Theodore inscrutable, which perhaps sparked her curiosity. next chapter>>>

[tare-anime]

SxF Short Mission 12

(Beware of spoilers)

Awwwww this is such a short and cute chapter 🥰🥰

After the bomb that happen at chp 96, a short chapter is expected.

And we do have an inbetween scene of chp. 95.

(Thanks heaven Endo didn't repeat the bomb that was short chapter 11 😅😅😅 no no no.... my heart really cannot take such type of short chapter)

Anyway, I'm so so sooo happy that Endo gave me the crumbs of Mother-Daughter content in this short chapter 😭😭

Anya really choose that dress because she admired her Mama.

(Even her way of thinking is quite litteral, just like her mama 😅😅😅)

That means..... at this panel at chp 95 Anya thinks of Thorn Princess.

My heart......

Thank you Endo... thank youuuu 😭😭😭

And then, Endo drops Father-daughter crumbs, that is Loid teaching Anya to dance

It's so naturally drawn 🤣🤣🤣👏👏 as in it's both cute and we can feel Loid's frustation, and Bond's pain. And the mess that Yor has to clean.

I was thinking that we might have Loid showing Anya how to dance by dancing with Yor, but ugh... I should know that I shouldn't put my hope too high 😅😅🤣🤣

Anyway, look at this proud father face, when Anya said that she won't give up 🥰🥰🥰

Awwwwwwww 💖💖💖

Thank you Endo... thank you for these crumbs 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Also another crumb:

Helloooooowwww????!!! 😱😱😱😱

Hold on a second there, Ma'am!!! Elaboraaatteee!!!

Who was it????? Henry??? Matthew????

I neeeddd answeeeerrr!!!!!

*ahem*

Anyway, 4 more chapters till chp. 100!

I can't wait to see what Endo has prepared for us. 🥰🥰

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 4: let’s try this therapy shit one more time..

Flashback January 14th, 2025 11:03 AM

Rhea and Jey sat across from their therapist, an air of tension lingering between them. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater, breaking the otherwise still atmosphere. Jey shifted in his seat, exhaling slowly before he spoke.

“I wanted to apologize… for walking out last session,” Jey began, his tone filled with genuine remorse. He glanced at Rhea, who gave him a small, understanding nod. “I know it wasn’t fair to either of you.”

The therapist smiled warmly, nodding. “It’s okay, Jey. That’s what we’re here for. Therapy is a process, and sometimes, it brings up things we aren’t ready to face. Today, we’ll continue to work through it together.”

Jey took a deep breath, seemingly preparing himself. “Alright,” he said, bracing for whatever the therapist had in store. “So… go on with your questions.”

The therapist chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. “Why don’t we start with something lighter? Why don’t you tell me how you met Rhea?”

Jey looked over at Rhea, a small smile appearing on his face as he thought back. He reached over and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before looking back at the therapist.

“Well… it’s actually kinda funny when I think about it,” he started, a hint of nostalgia coloring his tone.

Rhea chuckled softly beside him, nudging him as if to say, Don’t embarrass me, though her eyes were warm with the memories they shared.

“It was a couple of years ago. I saw her for the first time at an NXT motivational seminar. She’d just started making a name for herself down there. I remember being struck by her character—she was… different. Raw. Confident. She didn’t fit the mold, and that made her stand out to me right away.”

Rhea smiled, slightly embarrassed but also amused, recalling those early days.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Jey continued with a grin. “I pointed out her character design in front of everyone. I was not impressed with it, and I thought it was pretty damn bold of her to not say anything about it..."

The therapist nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“Then, she came up to the main roster, and I saw her again,” Jey went on. “She was with Adam and Damian… part of the original Judgment Day. She was this unstoppable force, and I respected that. I’d see her around every now and then, and yeah, I’d even cut a few flirty promos with her when we crossed paths.”

He paused, swallowing as he cleared his throat. There was a part of the story he wasn’t quite ready to unpack, a part he knew was crucial but too raw to bring to light in this moment. The memories of Rhea’s struggles with Matthew were painful ones—ones that had shaped both of them in ways they hadn’t anticipated. But for now, he chose to omit that part, not wanting to stir up those wounds just yet.

“There was a lot going on in my personal life back then,” Jey admitted, his voice softening. “I was… married. But things were tough. My wife and I were going through some stuff, and I don’t know… I just felt lost, like I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

He looked down, gathering his thoughts as he spoke. “One day, I saw her in catering. She’d taken all the brownies.” He chuckled at the memory, the tension easing just a bit. “She offered to share some with me, and we got to talking. One thing led to another, and I invited her to my room. We drank a little… and, well… things happened.”

The therapist looked at him thoughtfully, then asked, “So, you’re saying that you had an affair?”

Jey felt a pang of guilt, a feeling he still hadn’t fully processed even after all this time. He glanced at Rhea, her gaze steady and understanding. She knew the story—they both did. But hearing it aloud, in this setting, added a new layer of reality to it.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I had an affair. I was struggling… lost in my own mess. But that doesn’t make it okay. I hurt people in the process. And I know that.”

Rhea shifted beside him, her hand still in his, a quiet strength in her presence. She didn’t need to say anything; just being there was enough. Her forgiveness and their shared understanding were a testament to how far they’d come.

The therapist looked at Rhea with an understanding gaze and gently prompted, “Rhea, can you share with us how you felt in the beginning?”

Rhea hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap as she carefully chose her words. “At first,” she started softly, “being with Jey… it felt like an escape. Like, every time I snuck into his room in the early hours of the morning, it was like I was running away from everything, from… Matthew.” She swallowed hard, glancing briefly at Jey before looking down again. “With Jey, I felt free. It felt like I was supposed to be with him in the first place.”

The therapist nodded thoughtfully. “And Matthew?” they asked gently. “Why did you continue to be with him?”

Rhea took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable with the question, especially with Jey sitting beside her. But she spoke up anyway, her voice a mix of honesty and vulnerability. “Look, at first… I thought me and Jey were just… getting our fix, you know? Like, at the end of the day, I’d go back to Matthew, and he’d go back to… Takecia.” Her voice wavered as she mentioned Jey’s ex-wife, a reminder of the complicated and messy situation they had both been entangled in.

She clenched her jaw, her hand instinctively rubbing at her throat as if trying to loosen a knot that had lodged itself there. “I… I felt guilty,” she admitted, almost in a whisper. “I thought Matthew hadn’t done anything wrong. I thought I was the one messing up. But… he wasn’t who I thought he was. There were… signs. Signs I ignored. But that relationship was nothing like mine and Demetri’s.”

Jey looked at her, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. This was the first time she’d spoken openly about Matthew’s control over her, but what really caught his attention was her mention of someone named Demetri. In all the time they had been together, she had never once brought up that name.

The therapist noticed Jey’s curiosity and turned back to Rhea. “What was different about Demetri compared to Matthew?” they asked, keeping their voice steady and reassuring.

Rhea stiffened, her gaze hardening as she shook her head. “I… I don’t want to talk about it,” she said firmly, her voice laced with a mix of fear and defiance.

The therapist gave her a gentle nod. “That’s okay. You’re not obligated to talk about anything you’re not ready to share. This is a safe space, and we’ll move at your pace.”

But Jey, feeling the tension and the weight of the secrets still left unsaid, leaned forward, his frustration evident. He squeezed her hand, “Look, if I’m willing to talk about Takecia,” he said, his voice strained but measured, “then maybe… maybe you could talk about Demetri, too. I think we’re supposed to be honest with each other here.”

Rhea’s jaw clenched, she had removed her hand from him and her fingers curling tightly into fists in her lap. She finally looked at Jey, her eyes blazing with warning. “If you keep pushing it,” she said through gritted teeth, “I am going to call Trinity and have her take me home. I’m serious, Jey.”

The silence that followed was thick, the tension between them growing more intense. The therapist watched the exchange, their expression calm but alert, sensing that they were at a crossroads in the session.

The therapist, sensing her agitation, leaned in with genuine concern. “Rhea, I know this is difficult, but understanding your past is essential for your future. Can you share with us what Demetri represented for you?”

Jey chimed in, “Rhea, please. I’m not trying to push you. I just want to be there for you. I want to understand everything about you.”

The pressure in the room intensified, and Rhea felt her chest tighten. “I don’t want to talk about Demetri!” she snapped, her voice rising. “I’m done with this. You’re pushing me too far!”

The therapist maintained a calm demeanor. “Rhea, I understand it’s uncomfortable, but this is a safe space. If you want to work through these feelings, it’s important to confront them.”

Rhea stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Take me home now!” she shouted, her voice filled with desperation. She felt a surge of anger and hurt, a mix of emotions that boiled over. Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed out of the office, leaving the therapist and Jey stunned.

Jey’s heart raced as he immediately followed her, his voice echoing in the hallway. “Rhea! Wait up!” he called out, trying to keep pace with her hurried steps. He could see her determined stride, the tension radiating off her in waves.

Rhea spun around, her eyes blazing with emotion. “No, Jey! I don’t want to talk! I want to go home!” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

Jey stepped closer, concern etching his features. “But Rhea, can we at least discuss what just happened? I don’t want you to feel like you have to shut me out,” he pleaded, his voice softening.

“Then take me home!” she snapped back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t do this right now!”

“Okay, okay,” Jey relented, his heart sinking at the sight of her distress. “Let’s just go. I’m here for you, no matter what.” He reached for her hand, hoping to offer some comfort, but she pulled away, her walls firmly back in place.

They walked out together, the silence heavy between them as they approached the car. Jey opened the door for her, and she climbed in without a word. He slid in beside her, the atmosphere thick with unspoken thoughts and unresolved feelings.

As the car pulled away from the therapist’s office, Jey glanced at Rhea, his heart aching for her. He wanted to help, to understand, but he knew that right now, all he could do was be there for her as they drove home in silence.

As Rhea and Jey approached the house, the weight of their recent argument loomed heavily over them. Rhea was the first one out of the car, her heart racing with a mixture of anger and sadness. She stormed toward the front door, refusing to look back at Jey, who sighed deeply, rubbing his temples in frustration.

Once inside, Rhea made a beeline for the bedroom. She closed the door behind her with a definitive click, locking it as if that small action could shut out all the hurt and confusion swirling in her mind.

Jey entered the house a moment later, the silence palpable as he walked to the bedroom door. He tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “Demi,” he called, his voice laced with concern. “ I am going to take off the lock on the door if you keep doing this, please open the door.”

She opened it just a crack, enough to throw a pillow and a blanket at him before slamming it shut again. “Joshua, sleep on the couch!” she shouted, using his full name to emphasize her irritation.

“It’s only 11:57 in the morning, babe!” he protested, desperation creeping into his voice.

“BLOW IT OUT OF YOUR ASS!” she yelled back, the frustration in her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

Jey leaned his forehead against the door, feeling the cool wood against his skin as he sighed in defeat. “Demi, please,” he pleaded softly, wishing she would let him in. “We need to talk about this. I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

But inside the room, Rhea wrapped her arms around her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions: anger at Jey for pushing her, guilt for how she felt, and sadness for the distance that seemed to grow between them.

“Just give me a little space,” she whispered to herself, the weight of her words echoing in the silence of the room. She buried her face in her knees, letting the tears flow freely, feeling as though the walls she built around herself were the only thing protecting her from the chaos of her emotions.

Jey stood there, his heart breaking as he listened to her muffled sobs from the other side of the door. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her that he was there for her no matter what. But every time he tried to speak, the words caught in his throat, leaving him feeling helpless and frustrated.

“I’ll be right here,” he said finally, his voice low and filled with concern. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere.”

But Rhea remained silent, lost in her thoughts, needing time to process the turmoil inside her. No matter how much Jey pleaded, she couldn’t find the strength to open the door, not when she felt so broken.

As minutes ticked by, Jey settled onto the couch, staring at the wall as he wrestled with his own feelings of helplessness. He knew they needed to communicate, but the more he thought about it, the more he feared that the space Rhea had created was just the beginning of a deeper rift. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart and remind himself that they would find a way through this—together.

As Jey sat on the couch, a thought suddenly sparked in his mind. He needed help, and there was only one person he could think of who might provide insight into Rhea’s past—a blonde demon named Liv. He headed outside, pulling out his phone and dialing her number. After a few rings, she picked up, her voice energetic and lively.

“Hey! Just finished a killer workout! How’s Rhea doing?” Liv asked, her tone bright and full of enthusiasm.

Jey sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “The couples therapy is going not so good.”

“Oooohhh yeah, she told me about that,” Liv replied. “Did you flip out again?”

“No,” Jey said, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “She did this time.”

He went on to explain the heated session, how Rhea had clammed up and refused to talk about her past. “Do you know anything about Demetri?” he asked, referencing the name that had hung in the air during their therapy session.

Liv’s tone shifted slightly, taking on a more serious note. “Honestly, I think Rhea is going to fly over here and give me her signature headbutt for telling you this, but knowing her, she might also thank me for helping you understand.”

“Please, Liv,” Jey pleaded. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

Liv took a deep breath, clearly weighing her words. “Demetri used to correct Rhea a lot,” she said carefully.

“What do you mean, ‘correct’?” Jey asked, his heart racing as he braced for the answer.

Liv’s voice dropped lower, her words heavy with emotion. “He used to hit her. Beat the fuck out of her, Jey. It was horrible. Tegan was always covering her bruises.”

Jey felt his stomach drop. “What the fuck? Why didn’t anyone do anything?” His voice trembled with anger and disbelief.

“Rhea denied it,” Liv explained. “She would always say Tegan or I or any of the other Divas would hit her by accident. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

Jey’s fists clenched at his sides. “So what happened? How did she end up with Matt, and what happened with Demetri?”

“That’s the thing, no one really knows,” Liv said softly. “You would have to ask Rhea.”

Jey ran a hand through his hair, frustration and concern swirling within him. “I need to understand her, Liv. If we’re going to make this work, I can’t be in the dark about her past.”

“I get it,” Liv replied. “But you have to be patient with her. It took me a long time to break through her walls, and sometimes, she still struggles with what happened. Just be there for her, Jey. That’s what she needs right now.”

“Yeah, I just wish I could get through to her,” he admitted, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on him. “Thanks, Liv. I really appreciate you telling me this.”

“Anytime. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all care about Rhea,” she said before hanging up.

Jey stood outside, looking up at the sky as he tried to process everything Liv had shared. He felt a mix of anger at Demetri for hurting Rhea, and a deep sense of empathy for the struggles she had faced alone. Taking a deep breath, he made his way back inside, determined to give Rhea the support she needed while also preparing himself to confront the past she was so desperately trying to hide. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he was ready to fight for their future, one step at a time.

—

Present Time. April 18th, 2025 - 10:02 PM

Trinity screamed, her voice piercing the air as another contraction hit her with relentless intensity. “Fuck It hurts so bad!” she cried, gripping Jon and Rhea’s hands with an iron-like grip. Jon winced but held firm, his heart racing as he watched his wife endure the pain of labor.

“Focus on your breathing, Trinity! You can do this!” Rhea urged, her voice steady despite the panic swirling in her mind. She glanced at Jey, who was standing by, nervously wiping sweat from Trinity’s forehead as if he could absorb her pain.

“Why did you get me pregnant, Jon?” Trinity yelled, shooting daggers at her husband. “This is all your fault!”

“I know, I know! Just breathe!” Jon replied, trying to keep his own panic at bay. “We’ll get through this together.”

As another contraction gripped Trinity, she let out a fierce curse, directing her frustration at Jon again. “You better be ready to catch these babies, because I’m going to kill you after this!”

“Hey, hey, let’s keep the focus here, alright? Just keep breathing,” Rhea said, encouragingly rubbing Trinity’s arm.

Just then, the doctor and a nurse burst into the room, bringing an air of professionalism amidst the chaos. “Alright, who’s ready to push?” the doctor asked with a warm smile, glancing at Trinity.

“AHHHHH!” Trinity screamed as that contraction hit her like a set of bricks, her determination breaking through the pain.

“Great! Trinity, I need you to listen carefully,” the doctor instructed. “When the next contraction hits, I want you to push as hard as you can, okay?”

Jon moved to Trinity’s side, holding her hand tightly. “You got this, babe. I’m right here,” he reassured her.

“Just think about how adorable they’ll be!” Rhea added, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension in the room.

“Okay, here we go!” the doctor announced, preparing for the birth. “Trinity, take a deep breath. Ready? And… push!”

Trinity screamed again, her face contorted in concentration as she bore down. Jey stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror. As the first baby’s head began to crown, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

“Come on, Trinity! You’re almost there!” Jon encouraged, his heart racing.

“I can’t! I can’t do it!” Trinity cried, her voice laced with desperation.

“Yes, you can! You’re stronger than this!” Rhea insisted, squeezing Trinity’s hand.

With one final push, Trinity unleashed a primal scream, and the doctor exclaimed, “I can see the head! Keep pushing!”

Jey’s eyes were glued to the sight before him, and as he watched the baby’s head emerge, the reality of the situation hit him hard. “Oh God… I think I’m going to—”

Before he could finish, Jey’s vision blurred, and he staggered backward, fainting at the sight. He crumpled to the floor, barely avoiding a collision with the equipment beside him.

“Jey!” Rhea shouted, her focus momentarily pulled from Trinity.

“My brother in law.. what? Is he okay?” Trinity asked out of breath.

The nurse rushed to Jey’s side, checking on him as the doctor turned back to Trinity. “Focus on your breathing, Trinity. We need to keep going!”

With the room now buzzing with activity, Trinity felt a surge of adrenaline. “It hurts so bad!!!”

“Alright, Trinity, one more big push!” the doctor commanded, and Trinity summoned every ounce of strength she had left.

“Push!” the doctor shouted as Trinity let out another ferocious scream, her body straining with the effort.

Moments later, the room filled with the sound of a baby’s first cry. “Congratulations! You have a son!” the doctor announced, holding the tiny infant aloft.

Trinity’s eyes widened with joy and relief as the baby was placed on her chest. “I did it! I really did it!” she gasped, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks.

The nurse quickly attended to the second twin, who was still on their way out. “Alright, we need to do this again, Trinity. One more push!”

Trinity nodded, her determination renewed. “Let’s get this over with!” she exclaimed, ready to meet her second child.

As she pushed again, Jon leaned in close, whispering words of encouragement. “You’re amazing, babe! Just one more!”

With a final, powerful push, the second baby emerged, filling the room with another wail. “Congratulations! You have another son!” the doctor exclaimed, placing the second twin beside his brother.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Trinity gazed down at her two boys, her heart bursting with love. “I can’t believe it… they’re beautiful,” she whispered, cradling her sons.

In the chaos of the moment, Rhea turned to check on Jey, who was slowly regaining consciousness. “Hey, you alright?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I think I’m gonna need a minute,” Jey mumbled, groaning as he sat up.

As Trinity held her twins close, the atmosphere in the room transformed. The pain and chaos had given way to joy and love, and in that moment, surrounded by family, Trinity felt complete. She had faced her fears, battled through the pain, and emerged victorious—now a proud mother of two.

As Jey finally regained his bearings, he pushed himself up from the floor, rubbing his temples. The sound of soft coos and gentle laughter drew him back to the delivery room. As he stepped inside, he was struck by an overwhelming sight: Jon taking one twin in his arms while Trinity held the other twin, their faces illuminated with pure joy.

“Wow…” Jey breathed, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. The image of his brother, usually so strong and composed, now tenderly gazing at his newborn sons filled Jey’s heart with pride. He could see the love radiating between Jon and Trinity as they shared this moment together, a family formed through their struggle and determination.

“Hey Uce’!” Jon called, grinning as he looked up at Jey. “Come meet your nephews!”

Jey stepped closer, his heart swelling at the sight of the tiny bundles. “They’re perfect,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You guys did an amazing job.”

As Jon and Trinity shared tender glances over the twins, Jey felt a pang of bittersweet happiness. It was a reminder of everything they had all been through together and how far they had come.

After a moment of quiet admiration, Rhea nudged Jey gently. “Let’s give them some space,” she suggested, sensing the intimate moment unfolding. Jey nodded, not wanting to intrude on their first family moments.

As they walked out of the room, Jey chuckled nervously. “I can’t believe I fainted in there. I’ve seen some wild things in the ring, but that… that was something else.”

Rhea smirked, glancing back at the room filled with life and love. “You fainting like that? Classic,” she teased, then turned serious, her gaze meeting his. “But seriously, don’t faint when I have our boy.”

Jey raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping across his face despite his embarrassment. “Oh, I won’t! I promise I’ll be right there with you—wide awake and ready to catch our kid.”

“Good,” Rhea replied, her tone lightening again. “I can’t have you passing out during our moment.”

As they stood in the hallway, Rhea felt a flutter of excitement for the future. Jey’s commitment reassured her that they would navigate this journey together, just as Trinity and Jon were starting their new chapter as parents.

“Ready for the next adventure?” Rhea asked, nudging Jey playfully.

Jey grinned, pulling her close. “With you? Always.”

With a shared smile, they both knew they were just getting started on their journey together, and the promise of their future family awaited them.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

God's Witness

Here is God’s witness. He has given us eternal life. That life is found in his Son. — 1 John 5:11 | New International Reader’s Version (NIRV) Holy Bible, New International Reader’s Version® Copyright © 1995, 1996, 1998 by Biblica. All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Matthew 25:46; John 1:4; John 3:15; John 3:16; John 10:28; 1 John 1:2; 1 John 2:25; 1 John 4:9; 1 John 4:10; 1 John 5:13; 1 John 5:20

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