#Nightmare has given up trying to understand how there can be twice as many seats as henchmen and they still end up on top of each other

[somegrumpynerd]

The call is coming from inside the house, Dust

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 01 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

Next part (02) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

A/N: I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22 , who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Blue Eyes and Angel Wings

“Stay with me.”

The sentence is the only thing keeping you alive. The only thing keeping you from surrendering into darkness permanently. The lips from where they flow belong to the human blur that's constantly in your sight. The man with worried, blue eyes, the eyes that gave you something you didn't have for a very long time.

Hope.

You have been in the backseat of the useless car you stole, out of gas, surrounded by a sea of death. Their hands pushing the glass, blocking the daylight from coming in as you lied down, trying not to move, not to breathe, waiting for them to move along. But they didn't. Your sore, beat up body struggled, as the blood dried, as the wounds ached, as the pain became greater and greater until it stopped. Until your body went numb.

The glass wouldn't resist for too long. You only wished you'd die before they reached you.

The notion of time left your mind after a while. You only noticed as the day became night when the darkness overcame you completely. It happened twice. And yet, there you were still, more dead than alive, eyes locked on the back of the driver seat before you.

You don't understand why you didn't just die. Why your body was still trying to live. It was useless. A waste of time. In death, maybe, you'd find peace.

But at some point in your agony, a gap among the dead allowed the light to come in. But it only lasted a second before it was gone. Then it happened again. Your tired eyes followed the source of the light as they kept coming, over and over. Until you saw it. One of the dead falling, colliding against the window with an arrow on its head.

Someone had to fire that arrow, you thought. More gaps kept coming, and some of them remained for a little while. You didn't think you'd love the daylight so much, that you could miss the sun so much. Holding your breath, closing your eyes tightly shut, you used all the strength left in you to push yourself up, until you were seated, back colliding against the leather of the backseat. When another arrow came, your head moved to look for the source. That's when you saw him.

Blue eyes. Living eyes. They found you, going wide at the sight.

The dead kept dying. For another day and a half, until they were gone.

“Stay with me.” He says again, as your eyes open just enough to see the bottle he's holding before you. “Hold on. Jus’ a lil’ longer.” You feel the bottle touching your lips, and water fills your mouth, but most of it just rolls down, soaking your neck, chest, and clothes.

“Alright. Let's get goin’.” When he turns around, doing something out of your sight, your eyes fall on the angel wings on his vest. That's the image that burns in your head as you slip into your half-conscious state, being lifted up once again, moving, floating, hurting.

Sometimes you wonder if he only found you to carry you into death. Because that's where you feel like your heading. Right into death.

• • •

Breathing comes easily. A lot easier then it has for the last... You don't know. Time is lost to you, minutes, hours, days or weeks, it's all mixed up.

But you shouldn't be breathing if you're dead, then maybe you're not. Pushing the air in, a groan leaves your lips when a sharp pain on your side pushes the air out again. The pain is back. Death doesn't hurt, so this gotta be life.

So with that thought in your mind, you force your eyes to open, taking in a bright white ceiling. There's something in your face, covering the nose and mouth, and you're quick to remove it, suddenly realizing that thing was helping with the breathing. Your eyes scan through the place, seeing shelves and things on top of them. Beeps on your right, windows, and equipments you don't know.

Hospital. It looks like a hospital. But how can you be at a hospital?

“She wasn't just hurt, she was–”

The voice makes your heart start pounding, and you sit up, breathing heavily. You wonder where's the man with blue eyes. Did he leave you here?

The door is opened and two women come in. Pure terror clouds your senses and your blood runs cold, like ice. It can't happen again. It can't be happening again. You couldn't be given such a tiny bit of hope jut to fall into the same nightmare.

The younger woman moves, just a little, but it's enough to make you jump, pushing yourself further away, your body leaving the bed and hitting the ground hard. Trying to get up is useless. You know your body won't respond, so you pull the hospital bed down, and it collapses loudly on the floor. The tears already cover your face as you crawl backward until you find a wall. There's no place to go now. No way to run, or fight. You're trapped.

They'll hurt you again and there's nothing you can do.

Covering your head with both your hands, you pull your legs into your chest, despite the pain it shoots through your body, curling into a ball. As if it would protect you from anything.

“Honey?” Someone says in a low, feminine voice. “We won't hurt you.”

You've heard that before. It's always a lie.

“Hello?”

“Denise. Go get Daryl. Now.”

You feel them coming closer, and you hear as the hospital bed is lifted. This is it. It'll start. All over again.

“Hi, there.” A voice says, the same voice you've been listening for a while. Telling you to stay awake, to stay alive. Carrying you, holding you.

He's here. He didn't leave you.

Soaking in a sharp breath, you raise your head, your eyes finding him by the door. Your whole body relaxes, almost involuntary. The man hesitates, looking at the woman before making his way over you. The blue eyes capture you as he crouches next to you.

The words try to make they way out, but your throat is dry, sore.

“I'm Daryl.” He says, looking down before looking at you once again. “Yer hurt. Ya need to be taken care of.” He moves to the side a little, gesturing at the two women. “They'll take care of ya. Ok?”

Nodding weakly, you try to move, to stand up, but you don't know how to. When you look at your leg, you finally notice the blood that soaked the fabric of your jeans, ripped in the middle of your tight, giving you a sight of what's underneath. Your skin was sliced open, and you remember why. And who did it. The smile on his face as he drew the knife through your skin, inflicting the last wound he could before the dead came. Before you fled that hell on Earth.

Through the corner of your eye, you see Daryl's hand.

“I've been hurt too. I know how yer feelin’. But these people only want to help, alright?”

Lifting your eyes from his hands to his face, you remember it clearly now, with no share of doubt, how this man took care of you. For how long he carried you after almost two days killing off the dead for you. Slowly, you lay your shaking hand on top of his.

Slowly, moving your legs and holding your breath, you gather the courage to stand up again.

“I can put ya in the bed.” Daryl offers, and you lock eyes with him again. “I'm gonna pick ya up, is that alright?”

Nodding again, you watch as he slowly moves, an arm on your back and the other under your legs, slowly, carefully pulling you up. Soon enough you feel the soft mattress against your back as Daryl puts you down. Breathing out in relief, you see a woman approaching, the younger one, and Daryl steps back.

In a jolt of adrenaline, as fear starts building up again, you reach out, the sudden, fast movement making you groan a little when pain spreads through your arm. But you keep moving, grabbing Daryl's hand before he's out of reach. His skin is warm against yours, or maybe you're just too cold. You try to speak again, ask him to stay, beg if needed, but it just doesn't come out. Then you just look into his eyes, hoping it will be enough, squeezing his hand just a little bit.

“Daryl, I think she needs you to stay.” The other woman says, the one with gray hair. “Is that what you want, honey?”

Without looking away from Daryl, you nod, relieved when he steps closer.

“I'll start, ok? I need to see where exactly you're hurt and how serious the injuries are.”

“That's Denise,” Daryl explains, and you look at the girl as she hesitates before taking a scissor from somewhere, cutting your jeans just above the wound you saw. “And that's Carol. Ya can trust them, alright?”

Can you?

Holding Daryl's hand, you moan and wince, as many tears roll down. Every shot of pain makes you go back to imprisonment. The dark basement, the cold concrete, the men and women who came to hurt you, beat you, trying to force you to agree on complying with their filthy desires. And every time you said no, it got worse.

If it wasn't for Daryl's hand, you'd swear you were back there, being tortured again. But he keeps you anchored here, and you try to keep in mind that these people are trying to help. He said they would, so they might be.

“I will need her cleaned up before continuing. There's a lot of mud, dirt, and dried blood. I need her body to be clean to avoid any infections.” The woman Denise says.

“I can help her,” Carol speaks up.

“Good. Let's put her on the bathtub we have here.” Denise speaks fast, and you can't do anything but follow her with your eyes, motionless. “Daryl, get her some clothes. But pay attention. Nothing tight. And get those cotton shorts, you know? They look like leggings but are really short, I don't want nothing squeezing her leg, this wound is worrying me, and I–”

“Denise, why don't you go get those. I'll clean her up and...” Carol gives you a glance. “...I don't think she'll let go of Daryl.”

“Alright.” She nods, getting a piece of fabric to clean her hands. Clean them from your blood.

“Ok, honey. Let's do this.” When Denise leaves, Carol comes closer. “Daryl will take you to the bathroom and I'll help you, is that ok?”

Squeezing Daryl's hand, you look at him. Even though he's a man, you know you'd feel better if he helped you instead of this Carol.

“Daryl can stay there. Looking away. Would that make you feel better?”

Breathing out in relief, you nod. “I'll pick ya up then. Ready?” Daryl asks, carefully moving to hold you in his arms once again.

You close your eyes shut as the small trip to the bathroom makes your body complain. Your state of numbness is fading, so the pain gets more and more real now. It's hard to tell exactly where it comes from. You're aware of the cut on your leg, and sharp pain on your side, but all the rest is just mixed up.

Daryl puts you down in the tub, slowly. Carol comes in soon after, kneeling and turning on the water. Your eyes follow Daryl as he moves to the door, standing there, his back at you, giving you the sight of the angel wings on his back. Seeing it makes you relax, and you close your eyes to feel the warm water filling the tub.

Carol is patient. Very patient. The last thing you want is to take off your clothes, so she asks and waits until you let her help you remove them. The wounds burn in contact with the water, and the fact that you must rub the soap on them, to avoid any infections, only makes it worse. You can't help the tears rolling down, and the groans that leave your mouth. It feels good to take a bath, to remove all the mud and dirt, but you wish it didn't hurt this much. Your eyes always fall on Daryl, just to make sure he's still there. Carol also washes your hair, and you're thankful for that because you'd never be able to do that yourself.

After some time, you don't really know how much, you're done, and you have no choice but to sit on the edge of the tub as Carol helps you get dressed. The doctor, Denise, got you black underwear, a light gray tank top, and these soft shorts, that end up right above the cut on your leg. “I'm sorry, I know it's cold, but I don't want anything compressing your body right now. You're very...” Her voice fades and you look at the floor in between your feet. “Here. Take this.” You shake a little when you feel a weight on your shoulders, only to realize it's just a blanket. “Sorry.”

“Daryl. Can you take her back to the bed?”

“Yeah.” He finally turns around, those blue eyes finding yours almost immediately. “Hey. I can see yer face now.” He mumbles, picking you up again.

Once you're back in at the hospital bed, Denise finishes her job, covering all the major wounds. You just found out why your side hurts. Apparently, there are a few cuts on your ribs, right below your breast. As Denise stitches them up, the memory comes back, as vivid as if you were there again. That man, with dark brown eyes and a devilish smile, hovers over you, the needlepoint knife pressed against your skin as he said you'd soon give in, enjoy the pain, and ask him to that over and over again, in the most fun parts of your body.

The memory makes you flinch away when Denise's finger brush on your skin, and you desperately look around, looking for him.

“Hey. S’ alright.” Daryl's voice comes from behind you, and shyly, you reach out your hand, which he takes in a loose grip.

You're not sure how long you stay there, cold and whining, but eventually, the doctor is over. Carol wraps the blanket around you as Denise talks about the pills you'll need to take and how to keep the wounds clean. You don't really pay attention, wondering what happens now. Where you are, and if this new world revolves around this room alone.

“Honey.” Carol stands beside the bed, getting your attention. “We'll take you home now. Daryl and I share the house so you'll be with us, ok?”

Knowing you'll be around Daryl is what makes you nod, agreeing with her. Carol gestures at him, and he's quick to hold you up one more time.

In the last days, you've spent more time in Daryl's arms than anywhere else. It hurts, way too much, with every step he takes, even though you feel that he tries to keep you as still as possible. Ever since the man showed up, you've been feeling safe. You didn't think you'd ever feel safe around someone again. Everyone you met after you were forcefully separated from your first group tried to hurt you. But this man, a complete stranger, stopped whatever he's doing to rescue you. To bring you here, wherever this is, to help you survive.

When he steps out the hospital-like room you were in, you can't help but hide your face on his neck, protecting your eyes from the daylight. And protecting yourself from the small group of people you spot downstreet. Despite being curious to know where you are, you don't wanna look. You don't want people to see you, to know you exist, to think about you. If they don't know you're here, they won't want to hurt you.

“Welcome to your new house.” You hear Carol saying, and the noise of a door being open. Finally, you open your eyes to take in the... Normal house. If you tried really hard, you could even pretend this was a normal house from before... When the dead remained dead. “Daryl, upstairs. The guest room.”

He only murmurs a response you can't understand, and a minute later you're on a bed again, much more comfortable than the first. Your head rests on a fluffy pillow and a long breathe leaves from your lips.

Daryl steps back, turning to talk to Carol, both standing by the door, talking low. You don't try to understand, you just keep your eyes on the wings... Until they leave, disappearing in the hall.

“Sweety, Daryl will take a shower, ok? And I will make you something to eat, to sustain you until dinner. I'll be downstairs so if you need me, you just have to call.”

She waits a while before leaving too.

Being alone isn't the problem. The memories are. You wish your brain would stop working, stop trying to take you back to the cold, hard floor of the basement where you had a taste of what hell must be like. You try closing your eyes, but the darkness brings their faces back. Smiles, laughter, yells. All those people having fun with your suffering, placing bets on how long you'd resist before surrendering.

A couple of minutes later Carol comes back with a glass of water and scrambled eggs, helping you get into a sitting position and urging you to eat before leaving you alone again.

Frozen, you look at the eggs. They smell amazing, and slowly, you take some with your fork, raising it up to your mouth. The taste is so good it makes you ignore the pain spreading through your arm. Your stomach starts complaining violently, urging you to eat more. It's been quite a while, but still, you can't seem to push your body to work any faster. So you just keep looking at your food, trying to figure out which pain you can endure. On your arm or on your stomach.

A knock makes you look up, finding Daryl by the open door, damp hair, and a clean face. The very image of him calms your heart, setting it at ease. “Won't ya eat?” He asks, stepping inside and gesturing at the plate in your lap.

Weakly, you nod, taking some more and raising the fork to your mouth again, trying not to let him notice how your hand shakes, and you almost drop everything before successfully reaching your mouth.

“Do ya... Do ya need help?”

Blushing and embarrassed, you shake your head no, giving up eating. Focusing on not making a mess, you put the plate, still half full, on the nightstand, taking the glass of water. The weight seems to be too much, and your muscles give up trying to lift it, letting it slip and fall back on the nightstand.

“Lemme–” He mumbles, coming fast and taking the glass from your hand. You don't understand why he hesitates there for a moment, before kneeling beside the bed. “Here, drink.” Carefully, he brings the glass close to your mouth, and you lay your hand on top of his, taking fews sips, only then noticing the water is cold. How is the water cold?

That's when you finally take in the lamp on the ceiling, above the bed, the light on. They have electricity. What the hell is this place?

Pushing the glass away, you clear your throat, taking a deep breath.

“I'll leave ya to–”

“Stay.” It comes out suddenly, your voice so weak, so terribly low you barely recognize it. You didn't know you would actually say it, that this feeling, this need would build up and crawl its way out of your heart like that.

It makes Daryl stop in his tracks, already up and ready to walk away. The way he looks down at you, it's clear he's also wondering if he did hear you. You haven't spoken yet, you realize.

“Stay with me.” You force the words out again, repeating the same thing he said to you while he had to carry you through the woods. The words that kept you trying, fighting, struggling to have another chance to live.

“Alright.” He makes a small pause, eyes on the ground before taking a deep breath and sitting on the bed, near your knees. “We were worried. Thinkin’ ya couldn't speak.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you pull the blanket up when you shiver, holding it above your shoulders.

“Will ya tell me yer name?”

His blue eyes are locked on yours, and you feel yourself relaxing, calming down, more comfortable. “(Y/N).” You say, your throat burning a little.

A small, quick smile flashes on Daryl's lips, soon disappearing. But it was there, you know it. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, and you take it without hesitating, watching as he lightly shakes it.

“I'm Daryl. Nice to meet ya, (Y/N).”

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy

[candychronicles]

deal // d. kaminari

A/N: My part in the soulmate au bnharem server collab! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Kaminari Denki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,187

WARNINGS: nothing that i can think of? just dumb, sweet fluff

SYNOPSIS: in a world full of heros and quirks, finding someone you can love is very, very hard. it’s even harder when you have a soulmate and the words that are tattooed on you are a nightmare. but still, even in this strange world, love finds a way.

TAGS: @jojosmilktea @redbeanteax​ 

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

Want to indulge in some more soulmate ideas? Head on over to the masterlist!

---

in a world full of heros and quirks, finding someone you can love is very, very hard. everyone has the first words your soulmate will ever say to you tattooed on your body. there is not one size, placing or font. it just slowly develops into a full fledged sentence, like a birthmark, as you got older and were able to read more.

some people were absolutely desperate to find their soulmate. they would introduce themselves to as many people as possible, trying out different phrasings constantly. there was a whole app created that was dedicated to sharing your tattoo and trying to meet up with people that matched it. most people, however, believed that soulmates should and would come naturally.

when you were 7, your tattoo was finally developed, and you craned your neck in an attempt to see what was written down your spine. it took you quite a while to figure out the words due to your limited reading abilities and more so the fact that it was hard to read in the mirror. when you finally figured it out, you were absolutely dumbfounded.

“aah! stop! i could’ve dropped my croissant!”

what in the peanut butter fudge does that mean?

you decided that at 7 years old, it didn’t matter to you. it wasn’t until you were twelve that it was even brought back up again. a popular six second video platform went viral and, along with that, came the understanding of where your tattoo came from. suddenly, it was very, very scary, knowing how commonplace your tattoo phrase was. 

your heart was broken one too many times by not finding your soulmate, despite hearing those very words over and over again from so many people. you had memorized vine after vine, trying out different ones each time, slowly giving up hope as you approached your 21st birthday. while the platform was dead, the creations made on the app were a forever reminder that you were still, in fact, alone.

on one particularly dark and gloomy afternoon, with heavy, overcast clouds, a thin drizzle of cold rain and a calming yet eerie fog settling onto the street, you walked into your secret, hidden to many, coffee shop, or at least it felt like that for you. you tended to see the same familiar faces, knew all the employees and always tried new things, wanting to support a local business.

you were lost in your own thought when a young man, most likely around your age, bumped into you, balancing precariously a plate with treats and a hot coffee. 

“aah! stop! i could’ve dropped my croissant!” he screeched, moving his food and drink away from you, not wanting to spill any, especially on the pretty girl he just bumped into.

without missing a beat, you replied with your own vine reference in the most monotone voice you could muster: “you know what, i’m about to say it. i don’t care than you broke your elbow.”

you were so accustomed to replying to that reference, your brain working before you could even think, randomly grasping at the first memorization that came to mind. it came as a complete shock when the random stranger dropped his food and drink on the floor, mouth wide with a grin, eyes alight with excitement.

you cocked your head quizzically, still not understanding what was going on. at that point in your life, you had given up on finding your soulmate, but it became quite apparent to you that he did not believe the same things or feel the same way. 

the strange guy with electric yellow hair and a black streak happily rolled up his shirt sleeve to show you that what you said to him was on his body and, in that moment, everything finally clicked. you had to grab the nearest wall just to wrap your head around the situation. this guy is your soulmate?

with shaky hands, you pulled him to the back game room, apologizing to the workers for the mess as you whisked past him. once you were in the room, you shut the door, breathed once, twice, three times, and then slowly lifted the back of your shirt up to show him the tattoo. 

the strange man, without thinking about it, slowly reached his fingers up to the back of your spine, slowly tracing the letters of the words in mesmiration. you, on the other hand, were as still as could be, too entranced by the way his soft fingers felt dancing along your backside. goosebumps rose on your skin and you knew that there was no way to deny or argue the automatic attraction that you felt towards him.

it felt like lightning bolts were shooting out of his fingers, giving you just enough jolt to stay awake, your heart pounding from adrenaline. everything felt so surreal but you could feel that this was the start of something, something truly life changing.

slowly, you lowered your shirt, pulling your back away from his exploring fingers and turned around, looking him in the eye. 

“what’s your name?” you whispered out, not trusting your voice to speak any louder at the moment.

“Kaminari Denki, but please, call me Denki,” he answered without skipping a beat, eyes brimming with excitement. 

“and what’s yours doll?”

“(l/n) (y/n) but you can just call me (y/n). after all, we’re probably going to be spending quite a lot of time together.”

“while your here, why don’t you sit down with me and we can chat? i just met you but i’m so love struck already. i need to know more about you.”

the two of you ended up spending hours in the shop, stuffing your faces full of pastries and sweet drinks, playing board games, asking each other questions, shamelessly flirting all night. it came as no surprise to either of you that you two would like each other, but to be so content telling a practical stranger your whole life story was still a bit overwhelming for you. you two exchanged numbers and on you went with the rest of your night, then the next day, and then the whole week.

it was practically killing you inside knowing that Denki had not called you yet. he mentioned he was a pro hero, so you knew he must be busy, but the thought of never being able to talk to him again drove you mad. little did you know, Denki was thinking the same things, wondering if he was good enough for you, if you really liked him, if you even wanted to see him again.

after all the moping around you did by yourself, you finally gained the courage to call, leaving a polite message in the voicemail box asking for him to call and discuss some things, hoping you could get some answers out of what was going on. 

it only took twenty minutes before Denki’s name was flashing across your phone. you tried to play it cool, allow it to ring a couple of times, but eventually caved and answered, trying to not appear too excited or frazzled. 

the conversation ended up lasting hours, with plans to meet up later that week. you two both chuckled when realizing you both felt the same way, not wanting to call if the other wasn’t interested.

the week went by quickly, the first official date arriving much sooner than you expected. Denki had told you nothing except to wear comfortable tennis shoes and athletic clothes. you assumed maybe a hike but you were not prepared for what he actually signed up for: rock climbing. 

while heights weren’t your biggest fear, they certainly weren’t something you enjoyed, but you were going to push through and have fun. Kaminari brought out the best in you, fueling your adrenaline side a lot more than expected. 

the whole experience was going great, Kaminari going up with you a couple of times to show you the ropes, both literally and physically, when he suggested you try one on your own. it was an indoor facility with plenty of padding, safety ropes and trained staff if any issues arose, but still, it was more terrifying than you were expecting.

you set a slow but steady pace, finally reaching the top, Kaminari cheering you from below. you looked down to give him a smile and a wave, realizing that was a bad idea only when you saw how far you had to jump back down. Kaminari saw it in your face and internally panicked, not sure how to help you in the situation, until he came up with an idea.

“just jump! i’ll catch you. i promise!” he yelled, arms outstretched and ready for your descent. 

all it took was a few deep breaths before you let go, jumping down the wall, slipping halfway and fearing you would get injured. Kaminari, however, stayed true to his promise, catching you steadily in his arms, a cheeky, self-satisfied grin on his face.

“i’m picking the date next time,” you declared with a cheeky smile of your own, shimmying out of his grasp.

true to your word, your second official date was picked by yourself, something that was still interesting and adrenaline inducing at times without the fear of dropping from big heights: horseback riding.

you had assumed after the first date he took you to that this would be a nice reprieve from his daily adventures, which was true. what you didn’t assume, however, was the fact that Kaminari was mildly terrified of the giant creatures with hooves.

“oh come on! what are you afraid of?”

“getting kicked, getting bitten, stepped on, bucked off, the list is endless…”

“i won’t let anything happen to you. you caught me last time so i’ll make sure to have your back this time.”

as the day went on, you soon realized that you didn’t need to keep an eye on him. he was riding his horse very well, becoming in tune with his posture and seating, overall making the horse happier. he didn’t even want to leave after your trail ride was all over, you having to drag him back to the car as he stared out the window with puppy dog eyes.

when you made it back to your apartment, you turned towards him, ready to thank him for yet another lovely day, when you felt a pair of warm, eager lips attach themselves onto your own. you were dumbfounded for a minute, not understanding what was going on and therefore not responding. Denki almost took it as a sign that he was going too fast, preparing to pull away when your brain and body finally caught back up.

your lips moved in sync with his, wet tongues and teeth clashing. it wasn’t the prettiest kiss you ever had, but it was filled with such passion and longing that you didn’t know how you were able to pull away.

“wow…” Denki said breathlessly, hands coming up to cup your face and lean in for one more kiss.

“there’s plenty more where that came from,” you squeaked, trying to sound confident but coming out overly excited and slightly embarrassed.

Denki’s face suddenly turned very serious and he shifted in his seat to get a better look at you, you doing the same.

“(y/n), i know we’ve only been going on dates for a couple weeks, and i know there’s still so much more that i want to know about you, but i cannot, in good conscience, let you leave this car without me asking if you want to be my girlfriend. so uh, what do you think?” 

your body responded immediately this time, your head bobbing up and down in confirmation, composing yourself for a second before you responded.

“Denki, we’re soulmates. i know it’s fucking scary, i know it may seem even weird, but i have never felt this way about anyone or even anything. i want to be your girlfriend as badly as i want you to be my boyfriend. so yes, boyfriend, i would love to go steady with you.”

before he could respond, you raised one finger in silence, commenting, “but, from now on, we pick the dates together.”

“deal! and uh, i know we’re in your driveway already, but there’s this really good noodle place down the road, and i’m starving. would you want to come with me? i’ll pay,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment, a light flush on his face.“oh, well, if you’re paying, i guess i have no reason to say no, huh?” you joked back, laughing and sticking your tongue out at him.

you both giggled at that, completely isolated from the outside world. at that moment, it was just you and him. while the relationship was still fresh and new, it felt like you guys knew each other for years and yet knew nothing about each other. it didn’t matter, though, because you two knew that things would only get better from there, and you were both prepared for whatever came your way.

[bumbleartz]

So got inspired by @sondrawr and @gotham-mother-of-monsters and had this ramble pop into my head. Hadn't flipped through my Mercy books in a while so it was fun to go back and refresh. Covers from the first book up to Storm Cursed and has spoilers if you haven't gotten that far.

Jesse has heard the title Marrok on and off throughout her childhood. Usually the title is whispered between the wolves or her father in tones she isn't supposed to hear. These conversations always ended in her being hustled off to the care of her mother or after the divorce being sent off to her room. The first time it became more than a hushed precursor to her being shuffled off is after being taken hostage. Her father had pulled her into his office and given her a name to go with the title along with a number to enter into her phone. "He is the head of all the wolves. If something happens regarding pack business or you feel for some reason you can't get to any of us or Mercy you call that number." She'd dutifully filed the number away as instructed under Bran Cornick and promptly had the conversation fade to where she kept the rest of what was considered pack information. 

The first time she sees the Marrok is in the entryway way to the house in the middle of the night. She's too distracted by the fact her father is home safe to pay much attention to the others in the room as she is carefully wrapped into his arms. He looks like crap and smells worse even to her normal human nose. She can't bring herself to care as the tears she's fought so hard not to shed wet her eyes. When she unburies her face from her father's chest long enough to take note of the others there she's honestly too tired from the stressful nights of waiting to register anything beyond them being in one piece and alive. Later, after the first good night's sleep she's had in days, there will have been too many new faces for her to register who was who. The only one she can place a name to with any certainty is Charles. Mercy laughs and tells her Charles has that effect on people when she goes to see her later. 

The first time Jesse meets the Marrok is not long after on a midnight escapade to calm her nerves. Another nightmare has had her shooting awake and the images are still playing in full technicolor behind her lids each time she closes them. It's been almost a year since she was taken hostage and yet the blinding terror feels as fresh as ever. She'd turned down therapy when it was offered. What was she supposed to say? Yeah, some werewolf thought they could use me as leverage to make my dad behave so they could use him in some murder plot with a side of treason? She'd known how well that would have gone over. She'd thought they would fade over time. Maybe they would have if things had gone back to normal; a demon vampire threat, murder plotting psychos, and the attack on Mercy had happened instead. Jesse didn't bother adding the destruction of her social life and ongoing mom issues to the list since they just seemed to pale in comparison to the rest. Anymore Jesse found herself waiting for the next horror story. The most recent of which was currently causing all the wolves various fits. She currently wasn't clear which was bothering them more: one of their own being resurrected or Mercy being pulled into the pack. The kitchen light is on as she rounds the corner and she expects to see any number of people outside of the vaguely familiar stranger currently staring back at her. Somewhere between him asking her if she couldn't sleep and making the hot chocolate the same way Mercy does it dawns on her this person who looks barely older than her is the Marrok. Her tired brain tries to summon up the awe with a side of shock she should be feeling and fails miserably. Instead she finds herself nursing her mug of cocoa and making small talk while the Marrok takes drinks of his own. In the midst of the conversation he manages to get her to verbal vomit about her nightmares and the troubles she's been having at school. She manages to find out he has a deep dislike of Shakespeare, has a deep love for music, and possesses a terrifying wit. By the time she is making her way back to her room and he to the guest room she is feeling better then she has in months. He's already gone when she gets up leaving her without ever getting a chance to say thanks. While it isn't a big thing it bothers her just enough to pull her phone out and send a text to the number she'd all but forgotten. The simple thank you is accompanied with a YouTube link to her favorite Lindsey Stirling video. After all, Jesse views not knowing who she is and being a violinist as a crime. The little smiley face emoji she gets in reply makes her grin. 

The next time they meet she's the one providing the hot chocolate. The pack has managed to get themselves entangled with a fairy queen and Mercy has yet again made the sacrifice play. Everyone is chasing their proverbial tails trying to find her while remaining outside of her father's war path. In the meantime, Jesse feels she's improved in her chaos handling as she's only broken down twice. Apparently having your boyfriend kidnapped and going on to a fairy queen's court doesn't have the same punch as other things she has dealt with lately. When she sets the mug on the coffee table it's the wee hours of the morning and the Marrok has been seated cross legged on their monstrosity of a couch for the better part of a day. If she hadn't gotten to know him a little better over the previous months she would have felt she was intruding. However, Bran was not against using all available resources and she'd been pulled in regarding the newest resident of Aspen Creek. Kara and Jesse had clicked right off the bat and become faithful texting pals ever since. Bran rubs the bridge of his nose and blinks hard a few times despite his eyes having been closed before reaching for the mug. He looks beyond exhausted and she knows not all of it has to do with the current situation. Kara has confided in her about his lack of sleep and the way he's been running himself ragged. Jesse does her best to lighten the mood with a joke about the fairies contacting them any moment begging them to take Mercy back. Her effort is rewarded with an amused smirk and a quiet chuckle. She ends up rambling about different ways Mercy is driving the fairies nuts and is encouraged when Bran joins in. Jesse wakes to the noise of people rushing around. Bran is smiling and gripping a walking stick with a white knuckled grip from his spot on the couch when he tells her Mercy has been found.

Jesse is biting her lip to keep from laughing too loud as she informs everyone the butterflies have succeeded where the dove idea failed. Marji is cackling on the video feed in victory while Bran seems too amused to care he has just lost a hundred bucks. Two days pass in a blur of emergency calls and group texts. Despite the short time frame the wedding goes off without a hitch. Mercy is surprised and Jesse can't remember the last time her father looked so blissfully happy. Once the two love birds are off Jesse spends the rest of the reception twirling around the dance floor with Gabriel. The raised eyebrow this gets her from Bran makes her stick out her tongue. The fact Mercy comes back from the honeymoon in a wheelchair shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Jesse can picture Bran doing his iconic bridge pinch when she sends him the picture. 

Bran's text to Mercy makes Jesse's lips quirk in amusement. After the destruction of the Rabbit she could use the humor. That humor plummets when the number comes up disconnected when Mercy tries to reply. The knot of concern only tightens with each person Mercy tries and fails to reach. The pain of it becomes near unbearable when they find Ben and no one else. The pain doesn't start to ease until she recognizes the dark haired man fighting beside Tad. After months of having Asil tease her about her hair after seeing it during a video chat with Kara she'd know him anywhere. Seeing her father and the pack alive and well makes the knot come undone. At least it does until she realizes one is missing and hears of Peter's death. She knows how her father will take the loss and can't bring herself to add more weight to those already overburdened shoulders. So she turns her focus to looking after the younger Sandoval children and burying her feelings as deep as possible. This works until Asil catches up to her in the kitchen getting together snacks for the kids. All he has to do is ask if she's alright and she falls apart. Asil pulls her into a hug and gives reassurances in Spanish. Jesse doesn't understand a word but it soothes her all the same. He tells her everyone in Montana is safe and she sags in relief. When everything is over and she gets a new phone that has been programmed by Charles, Asil's number is listed in the contacts. 

Her mother has only been living with them for a day and Jesse wants to scream. She loves her mother but watching the resulting train wreck her mere presence is causing makes her wish she'd just leave them all alone. Even though her talk with Mercy has eased some of the hurt and anger, it hasn't gotten rid of it. Mostly because despite what Mercy said she can see the way her mother has gotten under her skin and cut her to the quick. Anger and the need for a voice of reason has her contacting Bran. Bran gently reminds her Mercy is more than capable of holding her own in a dominance dance. He must know this isn't what she was looking to hear because the next message contains Charles' number and instructions to text him. Jesse has no idea why Bran would have her talking to Charles but she copies and pastes the message she previously sent like instructed. Bran must have warned his son because Charles doesn't seem surprised to get the message. Charles turns out to be an unexpected fount of wisdom when it comes to the difficulty of broken family dynamics. It's odd how hearing from someone else that she is allowed to love her mother and yet not like her makes it feel OK. By the time her mother's stalker has been dealt with Jesse thinks she might finally be finding the path between love and hate. 

Jesse isn't a wolf, but she can still feel the moment Bran breaks ties with the Columbia Basin Pack. She doesn't wait for her father and Mercy to come out of the office. Tad seems to know something is up but doesn't say anything when she gives the excuse of homework and heads to her room. Her phone is a lead weight in her hand because what do you say to someone who just had to throw away someone they love? A part of her is angry too. Angry at the pain she knows this has caused Mercy and the difficulty it will cause her father. However, Jesse knows what it is like to be caught in a situation outside your control due to the actions of those you love. She types out a promise to do what she can for Mercy and to send a warning the instant something happens requiring help. She ends the text with a little heart emoji. Current circumstances might make it harder but family out ranked all else. Jesse already knew if something happened Bran would help. She's proven right when Baba Yaga saves her father in Underhill.

Jesse's proven right again when Bran goes with her father to get Mercy back from the Lord of Night. He sends her a message promising her he will bring Mercy and her father back in one piece. She replies telling him she knows. She also tells him to come back in one piece too or she's going to have to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At this point she's gone to battle to protect her new pyro of an adopted younger brother and managed to keep him from burning the house to the ground. She's pretty sure she can at least annoy a vampire lord. The fact she'd have backup from an Italian mercenary, a Dark Smith and more than one werewolf pack was completely irrelevant. After all the one thing she knew for certain was you always looked out for your pack, your family. Which is why as soon as she hears everyone is returning from Italy in one piece she sends a message to Tad for him to tell his dad. She also makes sure Warren passes on the message to Stefan though he doesn't need reminding. She snaps a picture of everyone getting out of the car when it pulls up and sends it to Charles and Asil because she knows hearing someone you care about is safe is not the same as seeing it. And because he is family in her eyes at this point, after she hugs her father and Mercy, she hugs Bran too. 

[ohkiyo]

pairing: Goshiki Tsutomu x Reader

warnings: none

word count: 2, 863

a/n: I got sidetracked so many times while writing this XD.

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shiratorizawa navigation || main navigation

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Rest days were very rare for members of any sports clubs, especially when a very important tournament is just right around the corner, and just as practices are good, taking a break and resting those tired muscles is very important as well. 

That is why, when Coach Washijou announce yesterday that they’d have the weekend off, members of Shiratorizawa’s boys’ volleyball club use it as an opportunity to finally do the plans they have been holding on for a while now.

Therefore, when Goshiki called you last night to tell you he’d be taking you on a date the next day, you were ecstatic. Letting out an excited squeal, startling your roommate in the process who was watching a movie while you jump around in your room, still talking to your boyfriend about your plans for your date. 

Your roommate was definitely looking at you funny, watching as you were talking so fast she couldn’t even understand what you were saying, so she just shook her head and continued watching her movie.

The two of you didn’t really plan anything extravagant, just a stroll around the mall or anything mundane, you don’t really care, you’re just glad you can finally have your boyfriend all by yourself for the whole day. Currently, the two of you were in your favorite clothes shop in one of Sendai’s malls, going through the various assortments of apparel they offer.

Browsing through the rack of sweaters and jacket, a certain clothing item caught your attention; you took it from the rack and giving it a closer look. It was a black colored hoodie, with a little animated bread with a smiley face and the words peanut butter printed just below it was the design, situated on the upper left part of the chest area. It was big, but you have always preferred clothes that were twice your size, they were more comfortable.

Going through the rack again, you saw another one, similar in color, a similar animated bread with the smiley face but this one says jelly, the position of the design was the same but it was smaller, closer to your size than the one you are currently holding.

Realizing that it was a couple hoodie, you walk up to your boyfriend and showed it to him.

“Tsutomu, look!” you said, holding up the two hoodies for him to see. He examines it, the cute design definitely catching his attention.

“Can we buy this?”

“Sure!”

After paying for your items, the two of you went to the mall’s rooftop where restaurants with open areas were operating. It was mostly the go-to place for most shoppers since the tables were placed in an open space, surrounded by many potted plants and a beautiful fountain in the middle, not only that, the fresh air is a good addition as well if anyone wants to get away from the stuffy smell the mall’s air conditioners were usually giving.

“It looks so good” Goshiki said, as the server place your food on the table, you could feel your mouth watering just by the sight of it. Immediately digging into the plates of food, once everything you’ve ordered was served.

“(Y/n)-chan, have you tried this one yet?” Goshiki pointed at the plate of chicken in front of him, you shook your head, swallowing your food.

“It’s really good” he took a piece of chicken with his fork and feeding it to you, watching as you slowly chew on the piece of meat. Your eyes went wide, a little hum leaving your lips at the various flavors exploding in your mouth. 

It was just fried chicken, but it was a lot different from the ones you have had, probably because of the spices the cooks put during preparation.

“Tasty, right?” you nodded your head as he fed you another piece chuckling at how your cheeks were bulging with so much food.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, on a table, a few feet away were three pairs of eyes watching the exchange like a hawk.

“I didn’t know he has a girlfriend” Yamagata leaned forward as he squints his eyes, trying to have a closer look at the girl to see if he recognize her.

“She’s probably just a classmate” Reon said watching as his other three companions decided to ignore their food and focus more on the cute display of affection happening in front of them. 

It’s not even considered PDA, they were just sharing their food something people normally do, but for them, who had been around the first year far too long would know that this was new, even they were surprised. 

They know Goshiki is not good at talking to girls, they could clearly remember how he chokes on his own spit the other day when he was talking to one of the members of the girls’ volleyball team. 

“She’s probably more than just a classmate” Tendou wiggled his finger at them, sliding his plate towards Ushijima and telling him to finish it.

“A friend maybe? They look close” Semi offered, as both he and Yamagata followed Tendou’s action, Reon sweatdrop watching as the third-year captain silently accept all the foods being given to him. 

“What? No!” Tendou objected, an offended look on his face as if they had just insulted his favorite manga “You’re all clearly underestimating Tsutomu, he’s tall, he’s cute, he’s smart and good at sports. He’s like a mini Wakatoshi-kun if you ask me!”

“So, you think Wakatoshi is cute?” Yamagata raises an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms over his chest as Semi’s mouth formed into the widest grin Tendou has ever seen.

“You know he’s right over there, you could tell him that you have a crush-“ 

Tendou clamp a hand over Semi’s mouth as he sneaks a glance towards Ushijima who seemed to have not heard what any of them was saying, and was more invested in his food than pay them attention. He let out a sigh, before turning his head to the two.

“We don’t talk about that here”

Semi remove his hand a smirk on his face “Alright, but we’re going to have a discussion about it later”

“They’re leaving” 

They watch as the duo walk away, hand in hand, something that did not go unnoticed from their prying eyes.

“Guess they really were a couple”

"Told ya!”

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"Hmm, what to watch" you tap your chin as you look at the various movie posters that were showing that day. The movie options weren't even that interesting to begin with, half of it was romance dramas while the others were just poor adaptations of movies from other countries. 

Goshiki let out a sigh, about to suggest that you do something else when another poster, all alone in the far corner of the wall, caught his eye.

"(Y/n)-chan look" he tugs at your blouse as you turn to look where he was pointing, you squint your eyes reading the details written on it. It was a promotional poster to this year's Eigasai [1], the list of movies to be shown were listed in bullet forms and the selected malls where it would be showing printed at the bottom.

"That's today" you look at your boyfriend who nodded his head and the two of you went back to the rooftop, walking towards the area where the screening for the Eigasai selected films were being held.

"Their movie line up this year is good" you muttered, as you read the titles of the multi-awarded films.  Recognizing how most of them were movies directed by famous directors.

"Let’s watch this one" Goshiki pointed at the poster, the title The Boy and The Beast catching your interest, you nodded your head as the both of you stood in line to get your tickets.

Once that was done, you made a quick purchase for your snacks before going inside the cinema, sitting in your designated area as you waited for the movie to start.

The projector was playing an ad as people slowly fill in the empty seats. You adjusted yourself in your seat, leaning back as the lights start to go dim, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn as the movie's intro starts playing.

Among many villages of beast in the world, the busiest is here, called Jutengai. The number of beast living here is about a hundred thousand.

“This is a very good way to start a movie” Goshiki commented eyes never leaving the screen as he took a sip of his drink. You nodded your head in agreement.

“I know, right?”

A long time leader among them proclaimed he shall retire and become a god. While pondering which god he shall be, since a new leader must be named should he decide, he ordered everyone to prepare a candidate.

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"That was probably the worst horror movie I've ever seen in my life" Semi grumbled stomping out of the cinema as he let out a huff “People were hyping it up so bad on social media, that I thought it was going to be exciting or something"

"That was definitely a flop" Tendou added shaking his head in disappointment.

"I demand a refund"

"I don't think that's possible Eita" Reon could only offer a pat on the back, before casting a glance at the second years who they had bumped into while waiting in line for their ticket "I think I saw Kenjirou fell asleep somewhere in the middle"

Shirabu shrugs his shoulders, moving his bangs away from his eyes to have a proper look at his upperclassman "It was boring"

"We should have just went to Eigasai instead" Kawanishi patted the giant poster displayed beside him. Popping a popcorn in his mouth as he watches Semi grab Tendou by the collar of his shirt and shaking him.

"You made me pay ¥1,800 [2] for a movie where I could've just watch it for free!"

"Now, now Eita-kun it was an honest mistake. We didn't know the film festival was today"

Tendou tries to explain but Semi just shook him harder, while an oddly pale-looking Yamagata stood beside Ushijima, not saying a single word since they had exited the cinema.

"Are you okay Hayato?" Ushijima asks, looking at him.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine" he answered before a thought went through his head 'What the fuck you mean that movie was boring?! It was terrifying!' He had to resist the shiver running down his spine as he could still remember some scenes from the movie.

He was definitely having nightmares tonight.

“By the way. Have you seen Tsutomu today?” Tendou asks pulling Semi off of him “He’s on a date!”

The two second years raise an eyebrow “A date?”

“Yeah- look there he is!” the redhead stretch his hand and pointed to Goshiki and his date walking towards the escalator. Laughing amongst each other.

“C’mon let’s go!” he gathered them all and started pushing them towards the direction the two have gone, completely ignoring their protest.

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"I didn't know there was a park here" Goshiki mumbled a stunned look on his face as his eyes surveyed the area. It was big, a lot bigger than the ones near the neighborhood areas, there were gazebos, a picnic area where tables were already set up overlooking a wide lake with wild ducks swimming around. A playground at the far corner complete with a seesaw, a slide, a sandbox, and a jungle gym.

"Me neither" you added taking a seat in one of the many benches as a sudden realization hit you "Gosh we need to go out more. How long has it been since we went off campus?"

Goshiki thought for a moment before answering "2 months"

"2 months?!" you gaped at him, as he tried to recount the days but it stayed the same "How?"

"High school happened" the both of you let out a heavy exhale, pulling you closer to him as the two of you watch the rest of the park goers enjoying their afternoon.

“I had fun today Tsutomu-kun. Thank you” you said squeezing your boyfriend’s hand as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Really? I’m glad” he smiled down at you, planting a kiss on the crown of your head as he adjusted himself, resting his head on top of yours. 

“Achoo!” 

“Tissue! Tissue!” 

“We don’t have any more tissues!”

Kawanishi sniffled, a pained groan leaving his lips as he sneezes once more. The itchy feeling in his nose irritating him as he took Shirabu’s offered handkerchief. 

“Taichi-nii?” 

Kawanishi raises his hand in a small wave as you frown, walking up to him while rummaging your bag for the tissue you had packed earlier.

“What are you doing standing near the flower beds? You know you’re allergic to them” you took hold of his wrist as you pulled him towards the picnic area where there were only grasses and trees present, the other following after you two.

“Sorry” he blew on his nose, as you gave him his antihistamine pill and a bottle of water. Semi doesn't even question why you're carrying an anti-allergy pill with you, he's just glad Kawanishi was immediately given some medication.

“You know her Taichi?” Tendou tilts his head to the side, eyes blinking in question.

Kawanishi nodded his head “She’s my younger cousin” he answered as he turned you to them, telling you to introduce yourself.

“Hello, my name’s (L/n) (Y/n) nice to meet you” you bowed as they introduce themselves to you one by one.

“You’re Tsutomu’s girlfriend, right? We saw you two earlier” you nodded your head, smiling at Yamagata as he started patting Goshiki on the back, while Tendou keeps on ruffling his hair until it was messy, saying something how he didn’t tell them that he has a cute girlfriend and why he didn't introduce you to them earlier.

You chuckled, turning your attention back to your cousin who's sniffles had finally calmed down. You gave him another piece of tissue, stepping to the side as a couple walks past your group. You scrunch up your nose as the familiar smell of strong perfume went up to your nostril, before a sneeze finally left your lips.

"You too?" Semi asks, growing worried by the second as a barrage of sneezes left your lips. Goshiki sitting you down beside your older cousin and offering you the almost empty tissue pack.

"It was the perfume" you wave your hand at the couple that was already a few feet away, but the smell of their perfume still lingering in the air.

Tendou and Shirabu had to pinch their nose, trying to prevent themselves from accidentally inhaling the scent as Yamagata tries to stop himself from gagging "I don't know what it was but it stinks"

Reon nodded as he tried to wave away the awful smell, while Ushijima doesn't even look affected in the slightest. You let out another sneeze rubbing your temple as you start to feel yourself getting a headache, Kawanishi doing the same.

Looks like it’s going to be a miserable weekend for the both of you.

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You stood beside the two coaches, a smile on your face, and a notebook in hand, as your eyes scanned the face of the new team you will be managing from now on. You had just finished introducing yourself to the team, waiting for Coach Washijou and Coach Saito to finish their pre-practice reminders.

“Starting today she will be your new manager so don't screw it up!" 

"Yes sir!" was their collective reply as Coach Washijou nodded his head, satisfied at the energy they seem to possess.

"Good, now start warming up. We're starting with spiking drills today"

With that, they disperse and walk over to their own area and started stretching. Thoroughly preparing their body for the strenuous exercise they will be doing today.

"It's funny how we just met (Y/n) a few days ago and now she's our manager" Reon mused, as he twists his body to the side.

"I offered the position to her" Ushijima said as they look at him "Shirabu mentioned that she's an outstanding student and I think she would be a good addition to the team. Someone reliable to help take care of everyone"

"You're fast"

"It would be a shame if she were to manage a different a club, and also..." he pauses meeting their eyes as his lips twitch into one of those rare smiles they have seen "... She would be an excellent motivator for Goshiki"

He motioned his head to where the two first years were talking to each other, Goshiki was sporting a very wide smile on his face, visibly vibrating on the spot as the girl wrap his fingers with some tape. Which was odd, he doesn’t even tape his fingers.

Probably an excuse to talk to her more.

"They're cute together aren't they?" Semi commented, watching as Goshiki sneakily gave his girlfriend a peck on the forehead before jogging towards the court.

"Yes they are" Tendou nodded his head, as silence enveloped the both of them before Semi spoke up again.

"So... about your crush on Wakatoshi"

"Eita-kun, shh!"

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[1] Eigasai is a Japanese film festival held every August, I think. They would have screenings of the best Japanese films animated or not, and the best thing about it, it’s free! You just have to make the effort to wait in line. I search up google and unfortunately, it’s an event only available in my country, at least that’s what it said, but just for the sake of this story, I decided to include Japan as well. hehehe

[2] According to Google, that’s the actual price for movie tickets in Japan.

[rushmanatalie]

and we’ll watch the world crumble (watch the world burn)

Summary: In a galaxy falling apart at its seams, two broken souls find solace in their forbidden connection. But when darkness threatens to destroy everything they know, Rey finds herself forced to choose between what can, and what could have been.

Chapter One

A/N: Of all the things I thought I would be doing this quarantine, I really didn’t expect writing my first reylo fic to be part of it but I guess here we are! Please be gentle, I’m still trying to get all my Star Wars lore correct :) 

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Rey couldn’t sleep.

But then again, after everything that had happened since leaving Jakku, sleepless nights weren’t uncommon for her. Even in the comfort of a sizable cot in her own section of the cave, safe in the Resistance base on Ajan Kloss, Rey felt uneasy giving in to the vulnerability of sleep. As exhausted as she was, falling asleep meant putting her walls down and letting the nightmares and monsters in.

Monsters like him.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his. Warm brown irises flooded with desperation, looking at her, no, into her, as the world around them crashed and burned. In that moment, she saw him clearer than he would ever see himself: a terrified boy, pleading for acceptance and understanding, from a scavenger, nonetheless. She couldn’t help but wonder if he saw her too. Did he see how much she had wanted to take his hand? If only for some form of purpose and clarity, for a chance to no longer feel achingly lonely. Or had he seen the moment she made her decision? The moment she went for the saber.

Luke’s saber. Rey eyed the broken weapon sitting on a bench across from her bed. She had felt wrong in keeping it, knowing it was all the legendary Skywalker had left behind, but Leia’s insistence helped assuage her guilt.

“It’s what he would have wanted,” the general said softly, gently wrapping Rey’s fingers around the saber’s cracked hilt. “You might not think you’re the last Jedi, Rey. But you are the last hope.”

And what a burden it proved to be. Since her floating rock stunt saved the Resistance on Crait, everyone seemed to be constantly staring at her, almost eerily wary of her every move. For a girl who spent most of her life alone in a desert, Rey wasn’t used to being the center of so much attention. But what scared her the most was her inability to discern whether people were looking at her with curiosity or fear. Or, as Poe would put it, a healthy combination of both.

Getting to know Poe was, in many ways, like getting to know a droid. It was very clear from the start that the man was programmed for war. More than once, Rey has caught herself overhearing Poe and Leia discussing weaponry, strategies, treaties, and negotiations, all of which sound like another language to Rey. But Rey soon learned that Poe’s skills as commander were equally matched with his penchant for sarcasm and light-hearted jokes as he and Finn constantly bickered during meal breaks.

Finn, Rey was thrilled to see, had made a full recovery since she had last seen him wounded after the battle on Starkiller base. As her first, and now best friend, Finn shared Rey’s anxieties about fitting in with the Resistance. A turned stormtrooper wasn’t exactly a leading example of a light-side warrior, and though he never voiced his concerns to Rey, Rey could tell Finn was trying to prove his place among the Resistance ranks through his enthusiasm in volunteering for even the simplest of missions.

His new friend, Rose, however, was exactly what Rey imagined Resistance members were like. Of course, it didn’t take much for Rey to like Rose given that she had saved Finn’s life, but Rose was truly sunshine personified. Despite the recent loss of her sister, Rose never ceased to smile. Her kindness toward Rey was more than welcome amidst the wordless stares from most others, and for the first time in her life, Rey found herself glad to be in the company of a woman closer to her age.

Rey huffed a sigh at the thought. It felt so strange that almost a year ago she was alone on Jakku, barely getting by on the meager portions she was able to receive, waiting for a family that would never return. Now she’s a force-sensitive fighting a war, no longer hungry, no longer chained by her past. No longer alone.

She tossed around in her bed, her blankets every bit too warm, but the room too cold all at once. Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, letting her mind drift ever so slightly, but to no avail.

Of course, the recent onslaught of piercing headaches didn’t help either. For the past couple weeks, Rey had been experiencing strange migraines. They all start with a slight disturbance in the force, an unexplainable shift that never fails to give Rey goosebumps. Then waves of pain crash through her mind without any more of a warning, as if her brain is being torn to shreds. Luckily for her, they often leave as suddenly as they come, but they’re never any less painful. Unable to do anything about it, the medical droids left Rey to wonder when the next headache would hit, and which one would ultimately kill her in the end.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

The familiar presence slipped so suddenly into Rey’s mind, she sprang up from her sheets. How much had he just heard?

“Get out!”

Kylo Ren sat across from her on the bench, next to the broken shards of his uncle’s parting gift. She couldn’t tell where he was, and for her sake and the Resistance’s, she hoped he couldn’t either.

Rey allowed her eyes to roam over the Supreme Leader, a self defense tactic, she decided, to see if he appeared as a threat. She quickly noted the absence of his lightsaber and stopped herself from reaching for her blaster. Even though she knew from their previous encounters that the weapons didn’t work through their connection, it never hurt to be safe. He donned his usual black tunic and trousers, with heavy duty boots to match, but seemed to forego the formalities of his cape and cowl. The wide belt at his waist emphasized the broadness of his chest and shoulders. His folded hands remained gloved as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.

And yet, the one thing that caught her attention the most was the lack of his mask.

Something about his face felt alluring to Rey, and not just in its undeniable vanity. Ever since he had first taken off his mask in front of her, Rey was aware of the vulnerability he allowed himself in her presence. As if she was the only person who could still see the slivers of Ben Solo behind his hardened facade.

Only there was no facade. Not this time. Kylo’s eyes were dark, red-rimmed with sleeplessness and—oh.

Sadness. No, this wasn’t just sadness. This was deeper than that. This was the kind of sadness that eats at the soul, even when there is nothing left but emptiness and a deep, dark ache, and Rey knew the feeling well. But she wasn’t easily fooled.

“I said, get out!”

“You know I would if I could.” He spoke calmly, with little to no antagonization, to Rey’s surprise. If anything, all she could detect was a hint of dejection in his tone.

Rey shook her head in denial. “I don’t understand. Why is this still happening? Snoke’s...”

Kylo’s eye twitched at the mention of his deceased master. “I’m sure you can put it together yourself.”

“He lied,” she finished, more for herself than for him. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised given how the Sith usually deal with manipulation.” She looked at him to see if the jab had struck a nerve, but was disappointed when he remained passive to her comment.

He stood from his seat and walked to the door-like opening where Rey’s little nook met the larger portion of the cave. Avoiding her glare, he stared out the entrance with a pensiveness that reminded Rey of Leia and Rey couldn’t help but wonder what he was looking at in his perspective.

After a moment’s silence, she added, “So how do we end this?”

He heaved a sigh, his gaze falling down to his feet. Rey tried not to notice the way one of his obsidian locks fell over his face. “I don’t know.” The words sounded foreign and almost disturbing coming from him, but Rey hid her discomfort behind knit brows and a tight scowl.

“You don’t know? You’re the Supreme Leader, aren’t you supposed to know about these things? Or were Force Bonds not covered in the murderer handbook?”

“Not one like this.” There was an edge to his voice now that he was growing more and more impatient, but she wasn’t fazed.

“Fine then, I’ll figure out a way to get rid of it since you won’t, you coward.” She let the insult roll off her tongue and watched as it washed over him.

It was as if she had finally pulled the right trigger because all of Kylo’s anger came bubbling up to the surface as he turned to face her. “You don’t think I want to?” He took a step closer and Rey felt herself backing up against the head of her bed as he neared her. Suddenly, reaching for her blaster seemed like a good idea. “I’ve spent the past three weeks trying to sever you from my mind, but each time I do—” He stops, as if trying to put his thoughts into words. “It feels like I’m tearing my own brain apart.”

That explained the headaches. “So that was you. I felt it too.” A chill ran down Rey’s spine as she came to the ugly conclusion, the one neither wanted to acknowledge. “Does that mean...”

The frustration in his eyes turned into an acceptance as his expression hardened. “That’s the only way it ends.”

A month ago, Rey wouldn’t have thought twice about killing Kylo Ren. Hell, she even had a fair try at it, the jagged scar across his face serving as a constant reminder of his close defeat. But after they had touched hands on Ahch To, things were...different. Somehow, the thought of him dead now made her stomach churn and her eyes burn, and yet she couldn’t figure out why.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be. Not if…if...” she trailed off.

“If what?” he challenged.

“You know what.”

“Say it, Rey.” She shivered at her name, spoken like a curse. “I want you to say it.”

It would be so easy to continue fighting him, but she didn’t see the point. Reluctantly, she said what he wanted to hear. “If you turned. Joined the Resistance.” Joined me. “Why didn’t you?”

This was the first time she had really asked him sincerely, the question that had been plaguing her mind. He turned away from her again, and for a second, Rey didn’t think he was going to respond, but his low voice broke the silence. “The same reason why you didn’t accept my offer.” He squared his shoulders, back still to her, and though his mask was nowhere to be seen, Rey felt as if he had just put it back on. “We are who we are. What’s the use in fighting it if it’s what we’re destined to be?”

She let the question fall from her lips before she could stop herself. “What do you think we’re destined to be?”

The connection cut out before she could get an answer.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Family Fights - Chapter Five

Summary:  Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: I just love crystals, okay?

(chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5)

Hilda blinked at all the shiny little stones that the librarian had spread on the table in front of her. They were already there when she arrived just a few minutes before. Alfur had stayed home that day; apparently Raven had promised to show him something, so she was alone except for her mother, who had taken a seat at the couch nearby.

“So, did you begin the book I lent you?” Maven asked, sitting across from her. She was wearing a loose dark blue sweater and leggings, and Hilda thought it was quite strange to see her without her work clothes. Last time they were at her house, she hadn’t been wearing her cape, but the rest was still there. Hilda supposed she’d get used to it if they kept meeting twice a week, eventually.

“Yes, I did!” She answered, proud to have done what had been asked of her. She had been grounding before going to sleep, too. Though it was a good thing that she practiced the exercise on her bed, sometimes she fell asleep while doing it.

“Did you get to the chapter on crystals already?”

“I… no. Not yet.”

The librarian nodded, telling her that there was no problem, even though she looked slightly annoyed. Maven had barely slept a wink the night before, re-reading an advanced book on crystals to prepare for this class. She couldn’t say she was in the best mood. “Well, I‘ll explain the basics before we start, then. The crystals we use for magic are semi precious stones created in the earth by forces of nature.”

“Forces of nature? Like spirits?” Hilda cut in, excitedly imagining magical creatures in caves deep below the ground crafting the shining stones with their powers.

“No, Hilda. Like volcanic activity.” Maven sighed. She’d always thought it safer for one to learn as much theory as they could before they moved on to practicing. Her sister hadn’t liked that philosophy. As soon as she became old enough that their parents decided to introduce her to the craft, she’d wanted to learn how to cast spells and make potions with little interest to their individual components, and it was beginning to look like Hilda might be the same. The thought was unsettling.

“Each type of crystal has a different meaning and different uses. Their structure is geometrically perfect, which allows them to hold steady levels of energy, creating those effects.”

Hilda tilted her head to the side. “I’m sorry, what?”

Maven put her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand. “Which part didn’t you get?”

“The geometry?” Her tone of voice told Maven that she wasn’t even sure about what had confused her, and she took a deep breath.

“What I need you to understand is, remember how everything has energy? Crystals do too, but because of how they are formed, their energy doesn’t sway or change, and witches are able to work with them to accomplish many things.”

“Like spells, right?” Hilda asked her, though she was looking everywhere but her, seemingly very interested in her living room even though she’d already been there just some days before.

“Not only. They are very helpful in meditation, protection… many things, really. If you want an example, amethyst under your pillow helps you sleep more peacefully.”

Hilda’s eyes widened, and she turned back to her mentor. “Amethyst?”

Maven picked one of the crystals she had payed out on the table, one with a deep purple colour, shaped like a pyramid. “Yes. This one.”

She let Hilda hold it, and the girl looked at it from every angle, putting the stone against the light and watching the weak purple beams that came through. “It is one of the most important crystals for a witch to have. It is a protective stone, and clears the mind of negative thoughts. It also assists in clairvoyance and intuition.”

“You mean if I use it, I’ll see the future?!” Hilda exclaimed, gleeful at the prospect. That could help her so much when she had a test in school! “Can I try it now?”

Maven bit back a groan. The girl meant well, but she was really beginning to get on her nerves. “We will have time to practice divination. But you must learn other things first.”

Hilda sat back on her chair. Before Maven could attempt to speak again, she pointed at the necklace the librarian was using.

“Is that a crystal?”

The librarian looked down at it. The necklace, made of very thin black rope did indeed hold a crystal. “Yes. It is a moonstone.”

Maven took it out of her neck and let Hilda hold the milky stone. She had been planning on talking about Moonstone later, after they had seen the basic crystals, but she supposed there was no problem about showing it to her now.

“It channels the energy of the moon. Very good for dreamwork and calming the mind. It helps connect with feminine energy.”

Her apprentice didn’t look at all very excited with this stone. She handed it back to her. “What about the others?”

Maven braced herself and began going through the other stones. Clear quartz, Aquamarine, Rose quartz, Tiger’s Eye, Selenite… Hilda looked like she was doing her best to focus and absorb the information. Jasper, Citrine, Sodalite, Black Tourmaline… Hilda was beginning to loose her resolution. Sometimes Maven would realize she was daydreaming and stop speaking until she came back to herself, apologizing when she did so. By the time they got to Onix Maven wanted to give up.

She was about to call the girl out on her lack of attention, and ask her if maybe she wanted coffee and a small break, when she gasped.

“What is that?” Hilda asked with wide, happy eyes, pointing behind the librarian. Maven turned to see what the fuss was about, and found herself looking at Freya, who had apparently decided to leave her room. She was hunching forward slightly, like she did when she walked in her two feet, her tail swishing behind her.

Maven heard Johanna gasp, the first sound she’d made ever since the lesson had begun, and Freya opened her wings and flew to Maven’s shoulder, knowing that her owner would protect her if those strangers were dangerous.

“This” Maven began, sighing. “Is Freya. She’s a catowl. She’s a hybrid, like your deerfox.”

“Can I see her?” Hilda asked, already lifting her hand towards the animal.

“She doesn’t really like people touching her.”

“Oh.” She let her hand drop to her side, looking disappointed.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Maven suggested. “If she’s awake so early, it must be because she’s hungry. You can rest while I feed her.”

Hilda rested her hand on her hand as Maven got up, disappointed to not be able to interact more with the animal. She was sure that if the librarian let her play with it a bit, they’d be friends in no time! There was no creature she couldn’t befriend.

The witch was back shortly, and offered them both a cup of coffee, which they declined. Neither mother nor daughter really liked the bitter taste of it.

As Maven tried to continue, however, her patience began to wear thin. Hilda would not pay attention to what she was saying, even when she began talking about more powerful crystals, and it was making her less than happy. More often than not, she’d be watching Freya eat from the bowl of food which was set in the floor by the entrance door.

When Hilda didn’t even answer when Maven asked if she had any doubts about the crystal she was holding, interested as she seemed to be in anything that wasn’t her lesson, Maven felt her patience snap. This girl was her only hope?!

“Hilda.” She said sharply as she get her hands fall to the table, finally getting the girl to look at her. “I don’t see the point of any of this if you’re not even going to try to learn.”

The girl looked stricken. “But I am trying to learn!”

“No, you’re not!” Maven snapped. “You’re just ignoring all the things that don’t interest you, no matter how important they are! I need you to be able to do this, Hilda, can’t you see you’re being selfish?”

The girl looked at her slack jawed, sadness written in the tightness of her brow. But what made Maven truly realize she was being irrational and impolite was the sound of feet hitting the floor as a Johanna lifted herself from the sofa with haste.

“That’s enough, Maven.” She said, coming to her daughter’s side and putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked at the librarian with barely hidden disappointment and now it was Maven who became slack jawed, realizing what she had done.

“If you can’t appreciate her help, then you don’t deserve it. Come, Hilda, let’s go home.”

Hilda got up from her chair and followed her mother to the door, which the woman had opened for her. Maven had never seen the little girl look like this. Her eyes were looking down and her shoulders were hunched. It seemed impossible, but the cheerful girl looked sad.

“Wait! I- I’m sorry!” Maven said as soon as she came back to herself, getting up from her chair. But Hilda had already crossed the door. Instead, It was Johanna who turned to her.

“Yeah, I bet you are.” She said before slamming the door shut again.

Maven spent a few seconds in stunned silence before falling down on her chair again. Tears began to sting at her eyes. It was over. Just like that, it was over. Because of her temper, she’d lost the only chance to bring Myra back, and now her sister would forever be a Marra.

She had deserved it. Myra hadn’t.

_#_#_#_

Maven was lying on her bed when her phone rang. She had been trying to read, willing her attention to focus on the new book on the Aztec people that had arrived at the library weeks before and had caught her attention, but she had given up after having to re-read the same paragraph three times. So she contended herself with listening to the rain outside as she stared at the ceiling. She didn’t think she had the energy to do anything else.

And that was the state she found herself in when her cell phone began to buzz from inside her pocket. She huffed with annoyance, and considered letting it go to postal. But she decided to check it, lest it be something important. And it was.

She gasped when she saw Johanna’s name in her screen, bringing the phone to her ear immediately. After she uttered a confused ‘hello’, the woman’s voice reached her from the other end of the line, steely and determined.

“I need to talk to you.” She didn’t sound at all happy, but at least she didn’t sound like she wanted to bury the librarian alive anymore, which was something, at least.

“Okay.” Johanna was not a cruel woman, and it would be very cruel if she called just to confirm that their arrangement had come to an end. So Maven held on to hope that maybe this was good news.

“Hilda decided she still wants to help.” There was a beat of silence as the information hit the librarian, and then she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp of relief.

“Really?”

“Yes. She doesn’t seem to be blaming you for what happened. But if you want to continue teaching her, it will be under two conditions.”

Maven nodded, even though she knew Johanna couldn’t see. In that moment, she thought she’d agree to nearly anything if it could help her sister.

“The first is, either tonight or tomorrow, you’ll come to our house and give her a proper apology.”

“Got it.” That sounded very reasonable, really, even though she was pretty much terrible with expressing her feelings. She’d probably make a fool of herself trying, but she supposed Hilda deserved that.

“And the second is, this can’t happen ever again. I get that you’re very stressed with the whole situation, but Hilda is helping you out of kindness, and I don’t ever want to see you make her feel bad again, understood?”

Maven flinched at her harsh tone of voice, but she supposed she deserved it. She thought for a moment that maybe if she and her mother had been a bit more like Johanna, her family wouldn’t be in the state it was now.

“Yes. I won’t, I promise.”

Johanna sighed. “Okay, then. Goodbye, Maven.”

[ill-skillsgard]

The Crimson Cross - Bill Skarsgard

Title: The Crimson Cross

Characters: Bill Skarsgard x ambiguous fem OC

Warning: 18+ horror themes/religious themes

Note: Happy October! I have lots of fun Halloween events planned this year! I wrote this last year as part of my Halloween Special Fic Prompt Challenge. I have since rewritten it and here it is once more! This was based on a few great reader prompts sent in last year! Patreon subscribers got early access to this fic during the month of Smutember! Enjoy!

"I'll stay. I'll stay. You'll be safe. I promise. I'll keep you safe."

"What's this camera for?" I asked.

I watched him set up one last camera on the granite island in the middle of my kitchen. He fastened it to a small, bendable tripod and pointed the lens right at where I was sitting on an Ikea barstool.

"This one is going to be your journal camera, see?" He pointed to a label on the side of it that said journal cam #1. "I would like for you to record some entries with this. Feel free to take it into another room if you want to, although there is good lighting in here. It's just so I can keep a log of everything; including how you feel each day at any given time. You don't have to be thorough with it. Even just a minute or two each day to say how you feel and if you experience any changes. Anything at all. Even if you just want to vent. Whatever you like."

 He turned on the camera and circled to where I was seated. "This is case number seventy-five. The day is October third, two-thousand eighteen. Day one of recording. Now, please state your name and age, and if you could confirm that today is October the third."

 I did as I was told and spoke directly into the camera. I felt a crack of nervousness erupt over my face, but Bill assured me that once I got used to the cameras, it would become second nature. He brought several bags of equipment including a small black leather briefcase that contained various religious relics pressed neatly into red velour slots. There was a place for a small glass decanter of holy water, a crucifix, a rosary, and a bible. When I gazed upon the items in his briefcase, the reality seemed far too stark again.

 "You don't look like a priest," I commented.

 "That's because I'm not a priest. I'm a demonologist."

 "But the church sent you."

 "Yes. I work very closely with the church in town."

 "That must be an interesting career choice. Demonologist? Did you always aspire to become one?"

 Bill's lips pressed together like he was withholding a dark confession and then, with a sigh, he gave voice to what he needed to say to satiate my curiosity. "I wouldn't say I volunteered for this job. It's not something I dreamed of as a kid or anything- exorcising demons and whatnot. I'd say I was chosen for it by a higher power."

 "So you are religious?"

 His eyes settled on me gravely. For a moment, I thought maybe I had offended him, but he sighed and shook his head slowly. "I know there's good in the world and evil. I want to be on the right side when the day of reckoning comes, you know? I'm not a devout Christian, but ma'am, I have seen some things that would make you think twice about what exists beyond this Earthly realm."

 Then it was my turn to grimace with displeasure, for I knew far too well that there were forces of malicious intent. Of course, nobody believed me when I told them that I was being tormented by a spirit that seemed to harbour an abhorrence for me. Several anomalies had occurred that I could not give an explanation to and when I told my close friends and relatives they all had their different theories at the ready, none of them comforting.

 "You must have been sleep-walking."

 "There's always some explanation for those types of things."

 "Maybe it was somebody just playing a prank?"

 "I don't believe in ghosts. I especially don't believe in demons! Come on... It could have been a tremor. They're more common than you'd think!"

 I knew it was none of those things. Not when every mirror in my house had been smashed out, including the tiny circular mirror in my makeup compact. Any reflective surface that I had ever looked at myself in had shattered. At first, I thought maybe it was a slight earthquake overnight, but the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Why would every mirror break and not every glass picture frame? Why would the china teacups in my kitchen remain unscathed? How could it be that the windows remained intact?

 Then one night I heard the voice. It started as a low hum that barely roused me from my slumber but soon climbed octaves until it pierced my eardrums and violently ripped me from sleep. I sat up in bed and listened hard. My friends blamed the sound on Tinnitus, but I had thwarted that theory by going to see a doctor who told me that my hearing was just fine. The sound grew and grew until I couldn't take it, and the moment I covered my ears and closed my eyes, my new bedroom mirror shattered like thin ice.

 Something was angry with me, and I didn't know what to do. That was when I sought help from the church. I hadn't set foot inside a church for nearly two decades, but I was desperate for answers. So desperate that I set aside my morals, bit the bullet and admitted that a spirit was tormenting me. The priest I spoke to didn't question me or suggest that perhaps I needed to see a psychologist. He believed me immediately and referred me directly to Bill; the resident demonologist who lived in the outskirts of town.

 The entire process seemed too easy, and before I knew it, Bill had come to my house to survey the scene, set up cameras and to smear every room with holy water while I waited outside for him to finish up. I stood on the front lawn in my boots and a denim jacket to keep me warm in the brisk morning of early Autumn. He was in there for nearly an hour after setting everything up and came out with all of his bags and the small briefcase containing his religious talismans. 

 He grinned politely at me as he approached, trudging through the damp grass and newly fallen leaves to where I was standing with my arms crossed over my chest.

 "I left my card next to the journal camera in case you need to call me. I'm usually available at any time but if you miss me, leave me a message, and I'll get back to you."

 "All right. Well, I'm very grateful for everything. I wasn't expecting to find help so easily."

 "I understand what it's like to be in this type of situation. Most people try to rationalize or tack on any number of explanations until it becomes too late."

 "Too late?"

 Bill shifted uncomfortably from side to side. He wore a long black wool coat and leather gloves that squeaked when he adjusted his grip on the briefcase handle. "There's a reason why the church has hired me. Cases like these have reached an all-time high. I don't want to scare you though so I'll spare you the details."

 "No... Please. I want to know," I urged.

 "Let's say the last case I had, number seventy-four... They waited too long to contact anybody. There was," Bill sighed, his breath turning to vapour in the fresh air. "There was an accident. It's still under investigation. I can't exactly say what it was because I still don't know myself. All I can say is that it was good of you to reach out as soon as you did. The success rate of banishment is higher in the early stages."

 "Early stages?"

 "I could talk for hours about each case and how it differs from the last. No two have been the same, so I don't want to worry you. Honestly. You will be fine."

 "No offence, but nothing you are saying to me is providing any comfort. Am I going to die? Does this spirit want me dead?"

 "This is why I don't like answering too many questions. It's like looking up your symptoms online. You're going to settle on the first drastic theory that you are in danger and it will consume you. I want you to maintain a clear head. This always works better if you're able to stay level. It's harder to penetrate a strong mind than a weak one, and you don't strike me as weak-minded."

 The strange compliment made me smirk, but I remained shaken to the core from everything that had transpired. Bill set down the duffle bag he had brought that housed his camera equipment and stuck out his gloved hand for me to shake.

 "Like I said... If you need anything at all, my card is on your counter. You can call text or e-mail me. Whatever you like. I'll be back in a week to go over the footage and to assess the house again. Oh. Also, don't be alarmed when you see your bedroom door. It's just a precaution."

 Bill nodded curtly, picked up the duffle bag and left after loading it all into the trunk of his car. I saw him off with a wave, and once he pulled out and drove away, I made my way back inside.

 There was a camera installed in each room of the house and one pointing down the hallway. When I went upstairs, I stopped abruptly and gazed down the hall at a crude red cross painted on my bedroom door. I scoffed as I approached it, shocked but not entirely surprised to see it. Bill had painted a huge red cross on my door. The closer I got, the quicker it became evident that he hadn't used regular paint to mark it. The cross drawn in blood dribbled down towards the floor, drying in some spots and still wet in others. With the tip of my index finger, I touched the right arm of the cross and rubbed it over my thumb. When I smelled it, my gut churned from the acrid stench of some pitiful beast's blood.

 ~*~

 "So this is the first morning that I am recording... I guess this is my journal. Bill told me to say how I'm feeling, how the night went, whether I experienced any changes or not and I have to say that despite there being a huge, bloody red cross on my bedroom door, I slept like a baby! No noises. No broken glass or windows. Just nightmares of Bill slathering God knows whose blood on my newly painted door. So thank you for that, Bill. That is truly disgusting," I laughed.

 "Today I'm going out for a while into town to pick up some groceries and things, probably going to go to the gym. Just boring everyday stuff, I guess I'll let you know about it tomorrow when I make my next entry. Um, goodbye, I guess?"

 The day went on as normal as any other day. I completed all of my errands, and when I got home, I made myself dinner and sat down to watch TV. After all of the stress, I tried to take my mind off the cameras pointed at me. It was strange to know but easy to forget after a while.

 A soft dusting of fuzz came over the TV screen and then flickered back to normal. I waited for it to happen again and when it didn't, I shook my head. Then it happened again, quicker this time. The interference skewed the image of the popular talk-show host, and the sound blipped.

 "Goodbye, I guess?"

 I put down my phone and looked behind me. 

 "Goodbye, I guess?" It repeated.

 Whipping around, I looked back into the kitchen instinctively to see if something was amiss. The television went grey and fuzzy, but I could still see the images from the show I was watching only the sound was off, and I swore I heard my voice.

 "Huge, bloody red cross. Goodbye."

 The plunge my heart took nearly stole my breath, and I jumped up on the couch as though the ground was going to swallow me whole.

 "Is this a joke?" I called out.

 Scrambling from the couch, I went to the corner of the living room to peer at the camera mounted to the ceiling. "If this is some joke, I am seriously not laughing! Why would you fuck with me like this?"

 I knew that nobody was playing a joke on me, and the ringing of terror shook my insides and threatened to make bile rise from my stomach. 

 "Huge, bloody red cross. Huge, bloody red cross. HUGE BLOODY RED CROSS!" The words boomed through the speakers of my surround sound system until the television turned itself off with an electric crackle, leaving me in a silence that was just as horrific as the words that screamed at me.

 I ran to the kitchen and found Bill's card to dial his number as quickly as my fingers would allow. I had to backspace several times because I couldn't type the numbers correctly with hands shaking. When I finally had it, I pressed send and held the phone up to my ear, quietly begging for Bill to answer. It was late, and I half expected to get his voicemail, but he picked up, and I let out the breath clenched up in my lungs.

 "Hello?"

 "Bill! It's me. Please. Something is happening. I'm scared."

 "What? What is happening?"

 "I don't know! I don't know!" I yelled. "My voice... My voice started playing on the TV!"

 "What do you mean?"

 "I don't know! Please! I don't know. I can't be here. Please, you have to fix this."

 "No, don't leave. Do not leave the house. Don't bend to its will. You have to remain there."

 "I can't!" I began to cry. "I'm scared. It was yelling... Shrieking! I don't know how it had my voice, but it was my voice, and it was repeating what I said this morning!"

 Bill grunted tiredly. Any other time I would have felt terrible for calling somebody so late, but I was terrified of what would happen if I remained alone in my house.

 "Listen to me. Stay where you are. Do not leave! I'm on my way over right now. I'll be there in a few minutes."

 He hung up the phone, and I stared blankly at the screen until it timed out and went black. As I waited, I turned on every light in the house and stood in the middle of my kitchen with a chef's knife in hand. I knew it was silly but having a weapon with me made me feel slightly safer, especially when the kitchen lights started flickering.

 "Get out of my house, whatever you are! Spirit... Demon... You are not welcome here!" I yelled.

 The light fixture above the kitchen island quivered with protest, and I cowered up against a wall, shielding my face with my arm, knife still poised in my hand. 

 "Get out! You don't belong here! Go fuck with somebody else!"

 The television turned on again only it didn't come back to the channel I had been watching. Instead, it was a feed of me sitting at the kitchen island, looking into the journal camera with a stupid grin on my bare face.

 "Huge, bloody red cross... Just nightmares. Goodbye, I guess. Just nightmares. Nightmares. Bloody red cross. Blood. Goodbye."

 "STOP! STOP IT!" I screamed.

 "Bloody red. Nightmares. Goodbye. Goodbye. Bloody red cross."

 The video played over on a loop until the screen went grey and sparkled with fuzz-- the image of me distorting and the sound of my voice coming out lower and louder than before.

 "BLOODY RED, BLOODY RED, BLOODY RED!"

 I couldn't take the torture anymore. I ran into the living room, dropped to my knees hard enough to burn against the carpet and pulled the entire power bar from the outlet, effectively silencing the TV and all of the speakers it played through. Tears boiled in my eyes and I cried on the floor clutching the chef's knife in one hand and my chest with the other.

 The knock on my door made me yelp, and I swivelled my body around as Bill barged in through the front door. He was white as a ghost in the face, and when he found me on my knees next to the TV, he turned even paler.

 "Are you okay?" He approached, kneeling to grasp my shoulders.

 "I can't stay here," I blubbered through tears and snot.

 "Listen to me... Listen to me! Please. I know you're scared, but you have to stay right here."

 "I don't want to! Don't make me!"

 "I'll stay here with you if that's what it takes. However, you cannot flee."

 "I'm losing my mind."

 "You're not losing your mind. I promise. Hey... Hey! Look at me," Bill tipped my chin up and gazed upon my wet, contorted face.

 He wiped the tears from my cheeks with two thumbs but as soon as he did more salty hot liquid ran down to replace what he had just cleared away. Bill looked upon my face with pity and hugged me close. I whimpered into the collar of his shirt as he hushed me and began to rock me back and forth.

 "I'll stay. I'll stay. You'll be safe. I promise. I'll keep you safe."

 ~*~

 Bill tried to insist that I sleep in my bedroom and that he would sleep on the living room couch, but I could not be convinced to stay the night without the presence of another person in the house. After some arguing, we reached a verdict. I would sleep on the couch, and Bill would stay near me on the floor on top of a sleeping bag. I felt silly to have made a fully grown man sleep on the floor beside me, but without someone there, I would have never been able to close my eyes for more than what it took to blink.

 The next morning I woke up to the smell of coffee and cooking. I rose from the couch, no doubt looking frightful with my hair mussed and a night's worth of crust built up in the corners of my eyes.

 "Good morning," Bill said as he approached with a mug of steaming coffee.

 I accepted the mug with a gracious nod though I said nothing. Bill stood tall above me and watched as I took a small sip of the piping hot liquid, grimacing when I realized it was still far too warm to consume.

 "Easy there. I just made it," he warned after the fact.

 I went to set the mug down on the coffee table, but I soon realized that we had moved it to the other side of the room so that Bill could sleep parallel to me on the carpet. He watched as I struggled to keep hold of the scalding cup and simpered softly before taking it from my hands again. 

 "Here, I'll just put this back over here, and you can have it in a minute. Hope you don't mind I've taken the liberty of making breakfast. I'm one of those people that needs to eat right after waking up, and I didn't want to leave you. I also didn't want to wake you either."

 "That's okay," my voice cracked.

 "How are you feeling this morning?" He asked as though reminding me of the night's events was the last thing he wanted to do.

 I shrugged my shoulders, and one strap of my tank top came down with it. Bill's lips cocked for a moment, and he reached, plucked the strap and shifted it back into place. 

 "Well, why don't you go hop in the shower or do whatever it is you need to do in the morning, and by the time you finish up, breakfast should be ready."

 "Okay. Thanks," I whispered before clearing my throat. "Thanks for coming. I know you didn't have to."

 "Well... You're kind of my problem. You're my case. And I told you that you could call me at any time."

 "I know but... I don't know. I feel stupid."

 "Don't feel stupid. I'm here for you. As of right now, you're my main priority."

 I washed, dressed and towelled my damp hair before joining Bill in the kitchen again. He set down a plate of eggs, potatoes, and toast for me and I thanked him as genuinely as possible. It had been a long time since somebody had made me a meal, and when I watched him bustle around my kitchen, I felt ten times safer. Maybe it was his height or the positive way he walked, but I somehow felt like Bill was more than qualified enough to protect me. I didn't know hardly a thing about him except that his voice was comforting and having him there made me almost forget about the horrible night I'd had.

 After we finished eating and he took the dishes away, Bill turned on the journal camera much to my dismay.

 "Please... I don't want to. Not after last night," I shied away.

 "I need a log for my records. It's okay. You don't have to look into the lens. Just look at me instead. Pretend you're telling me. Pretend I'm your journal. Just ignore the camera."

 With a sigh, I relented and began to tell him how I felt about what had transpired the night before.

 "So last night, something freaky happened. I was watching TV, and suddenly a voice came over that didn't belong. It was my voice, but it sounded. I don't know. I can't quite describe it. All I can say is that it sounded off. It kept repeating to me what I had said in the morning during my first log. It kept saying bloody, red cross like it was angry with me or something. The TV started going fuzzy, and then the words just started booming over all the speakers. That's when I called Bill," I paused to nod at the man standing behind the camera. "He came over and, of course, as soon as he entered everything stopped. So I made him stay the night because I was scared as hell. Now here we are. Bill just made breakfast, and now we're sitting here enjoying our coffee."

 "Good, that's good," Bill said with a smile. "Anything else?"

 "Oh... Yeah, and I guess I feel a little bit better only because Bill is here. Honestly, If it weren't for him, I would have been ten counties over by now."

 "But we're going to stay here and fight on, aren't we?" Bill asked.

 I nodded before sipping my coffee again. "We're going to stay here and fight."

 "Because you promised me that you would stay, right?"

 Rolling my eyes, I laughed, "because I promised Bill that I wouldn't leave."

 When he powered down the camera, he looked at me with an uneasy smile. "Well, I guess I should get going. I have some things I need to do today-"

 "You're leaving?" I asked incredulously before shaking my head.

 Of course, he was leaving. It would have been foolish for me to think that he would drop everything to accompany me, but when I looked at him again, I didn't want to spend another night alone. The fear that I had felt so potently in my chest returned, and tears threatened to make another appearance down my cheeks.

 "Well, yeah. I don't have any clean clothes here, and I have some work to do."

 He saw how I bit my lip and worried with my fingers picking at the underside of my nails. 

 "I can come back after," he offered.

 "Would you? Oh. No. I shouldn't. I guess I shouldn't bother you again. Sorry. I know it's dumb of me to think-"

 "How about I come back later tonight to check up on you?"

 I nodded, relieved as could be. "Okay. That's... Good. That's fine."

 Bill smirked at me. "I'll bring an air mattress."

 Then it was my turn to smirk.

 ~*~

 Bill kept his promise and showed up at the door with a gym bag and a rolled-up air mattress. Greeting him at the door felt like the beginning of a fun sleepover, but I couldn't kid myself for long. He was there solely for my protection; even if we only make popcorn and chatted about things that were irrelevant to my case. We blew up the mattress, but it remained untouched as Bill sat beside me on the couch with a laptop open, going over some of the footage from the night before. I told him that I didn't want to look, but every once in awhile, I would peer over to see what he was doing.

 When he finished with his work, he folded his small laptop and stowed it away in the bag brought with him. I saw that he had a change of clothes and a couple of pairs of socks in the gym bag and suddenly felt terrible again for insisting he stay with me. After all, he was an adult with his own life and priorities, and I was nearly a stranger to him.

 "You don't have to stay the night again. I know it's not necessary."

 "Don't be silly. I told you a hundred times. It's fine. Plus, I would rather stay to make sure that you don't flee the country or something."

 "I won't."

 "I know but... Trust me. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. You're my top priority."

 "Do you even get paid to do this?" I asked him.

 "The church pays me, but like I said before... I didn't exactly volunteer myself to this cause. It's more of an obligation."

 "That doesn't sound pleasant at all," I said with a grimace.

 Bill sighed deeply and reached out to touch the back of my palm softly, "I can at least find solace in knowing I've helped those that cannot help themselves."

 When I thought that he would take his hand away, I was mistaken. Bill only moved closer to me on the couch and grasped my hand a tighter. I spread my fingers out, and he threaded his own through the spaces created. 

 "I know what it's like to be so afraid that you can't think straight," he said in a voice that bordered a whisper. "I want to keep you safe."

 "Thank you," I murmured.

 "You were put on my path for a reason. I know it. I was meant to protect you."

 "How do you know that?" I inquired.

 "Last night, before you called me... I was dreaming about you. I couldn't escape the feeling that I was meant to meet you. It was as though something was trying to tell me that you were in trouble and that I needed to go to you. Then you called, and that was all I needed to be convinced. I'm supposed to be here with you."

 Bill lifted my hand and brought the back of my palm to his lips. I shivered when he pressed a kiss to my skin, but I had never felt safer in my life.

 "We're going to battle this together."

  @dreamtherapy​ @reinamysterio​ @skarswhat​ @mightbelindsey​ @sexual-rendezvous-blog​ @billskarsgardx​ @michaeliskindahot​ @mycrimsonsparrow​ @tigers-pat​ @rainbowmoosie​ @tinygayfungi​ @pancake-blonde​ @bskarsgardlove92​ @sarah2057​ @ohcaptains​ @jamierdr @loveforbillskasgard​ @vikingsmania​ @billdreamy69​ @lordeofther1ngs​ @theredheadsbookcorner​ @1-800-imagines​ @readsalot73​ @nicolehoran-maybe​ @weirdlilwitch​ @enchantedreadersworld​ @allkundsofwrong​ @loey-bae​ @bill-istvan​ @army-crawl-andersen​ @ohtheangst​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @whoplansthese​ @evaolii​ @frappylou​ @alylanaeblack​ @creepshowzombae​ @billullabies​ @bohemianfortunes​ @moondustmemories​ @terry2227​ @ivarlcthbrok​ @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ @alltimesamantha​ @amelia-in-w0nderland​ @thestonerosas​ @skrsgvrd​ @sorryimviolet​ @tweakersqueaker​ @inforapound​ @eff1ngqueen​ @skrsgrd-my-boi​ @rekdreams-fandom​ @b-afterhours​ @anastasiaskarsgard​ @ainatirb-j​ @voodoo-queen​ @quiche-pocket​ @awkward-haux​ @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ @originalclodmakergarden​ @skrsgardspams​ @tumblingdwntherabbithole​ @xbuckxnastyx​ @lauraaan182​ @justlira @skadithegoddess​ @whiskeyxinxaxteacup @calumculia0​ @micheallangdons​

(If you would like to be tagged or have your tag removed, please let me know!)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Athazagoraphobia (Part 4)

Waking is hard. 

She doesn’t like doing it anymore. 

Maybe if she were plagued by morbid nightmares of being chained to the grate and devoured by unseen forces, waking wouldn’t be so dreadful. But her dreams are surprisingly pleasant. Mundane but pleasant; in them, nothing has changed. She is still Azula with a sharp and clear mind. She is still Azula with a crown on her head. 

In some of them she had won the agni kai and ruled over her kingdom with a larger crown adorning her hair. 

And so waking up is a terrible thing.

It is especially grueling when she wakes with her leg throbbing. She supposes that it is a good thing that her leg throbs with such fury. It means that it isn’t a dead limb yet. She also supposes she should be lucky that she isn’t bearing the telltale signs of an infection induced fever. Her leg has already rendered her remotely useless for the time being, the last thing she wants is for a fever to cripple her further.

She looks down at her hands, at her wrists, at her arms. Her arms are still bruised and both of her wrists have raw and scabbed rings around them. She makes a mental note to monitor them for signs of infection. And another to offer Chan a curt thank you for having the foresight to cleanse the wound---even if it was only to prevent having to waste antibiotics on her.

Leg aside, her main concern is her weight. If she was small enough to slip out of her constraints than she is small enough to have grown considerably weaker. 

More fragile. 

What a loathsome predicament.

No one has come to check on her and she is growing increasingly anxious. What if they had been attacked in the night? What if she is the only one left? What if they simply decided to forget about her and move on? Her stomach lurches at the thought. She never struck herself as the type to fear abandonment or isolation, and yet…

The only company she has is an image of her mother shaking her head from the corner of the room. Azula clutches her head, only momentarily before deciding that she has had enough. She sits up and looks about the room. 

She ought not to, but she heaves herself to her feet--her one good one anyhow--and leans against the bed frame. She makes a clumsy one legged hop to her closet and pulls out several bundles of clothing that she had been meaning to get rid of. She tosses them in the middle of the floor before giving the room another once over. She finds a chair in the corner of the room. She hesitates only momentarily before splintering the legs with a blast of fire. She burns away the sharper edges before binding two the first two chair legs together with one of her old robes and the second set. She pries the armrests away from the chair next and binds those as well. With the remaining cloth, she makes a cushion, more for comfort than anything else. 

She sends a silent prayer to the Spirit World that the makeshift crutches will be sturdy enough to support her weight. She takes a breath and gives them a test run. She makes it across the room and back twice before deciding to have a look down the hall. 

The knock of wood against the floor verberates down the halls, reminding her of their apparent vacancy. She has grown to hate the silence. It leaves too much room for her mind to fill it. Punctuated by darkness her journey to the throne room is going to be dreadful. She wants to light some of the hall torches but can’t risk dropping her crutches. 

Azula isn’t sure how she will approach the stairs. 

She has the length of the hallway to figure it out.

By the time she reaches the stairs, the only plan she has is to lay the crutches across her lap and slid down the stairs, like an undignified fool, on her rear. 

She scowls to herself, but has never shied away from what needs to be done in the past. She drops down and carefully slides herself down the stairs. It takes much longer than it truly ought to, but eventually she reaches the ground floor.

She breathes a sigh or relief at the sound of conversation and makes her way towards it. It would seem that these people, this gaggle of survivors has found the council room. Azula wants to be discreet about her entrance but there is nothing inconspicuous about the clunk of her makeshift crutches. 

Every head in the room turns. Of the twenty of them she recognizes only the faces of Chan, Ruon Jian, and Generals Bujing and Shinu. She doesn’t know them well, but they had always held respect for her. 

She hears footsteps behind her. Part of her expects to have a run in with whatever ‘things’ have these people cooped up in her palace. Instead she sees three more familiar faces. First, and most notably, is the wrinkled face of Lo...or maybe it is Li. Either which way, she finds the woman’s presence reassuring.

Only until she recalls that the last time they had conversed involved her banishing one of the two. She swallows. 

Azula doesn’t have names for the other two girls, but she recognizes them as two of her serving girls. Like the generals, she knows little of them, but they had treated and served her well. “Lo?” Azula guesses in way of greeting. 

“Li.” The old woman corrects. She detects a hint of bitterness.

“Is Lo dead?” 

“Yes.”

Azula feels a pang of guilt. She, until her mind frayed, had trusted the twins. Was, perhaps, even fond of them. She assumes that the guilt was a little more than just a pang. It might have been something notable because Li continues.

“We never left the palace, Princess. We hid away in the serving quarters--you never venture there--and waited for your…” she pauses, “for your mood to get better.” 

“Then what happened to her?” 

“At the moment when Sozin’s comet reached zenith, there was a great sound. A horrible one. We thought that it was the sounds of war finally reaching our soil. We decided to find the source of the sound…”

“And.” 

“We found it, princess.” She replies sadly. 

“What did you find?” 

Li presses her thin lips together. “Something beyond what I can describe. It is more like a feeling than a physical being.” 

Azula crinkles her brows. 

“It does things.” Ruon Jian speaks up. “To mind.” 

Azula swallows, “Does that mean…?”

Li cuts her off, “no, you aren’t infected.”

“Possessed.” Chan corrects. 

“Call it what you will,” Li shrugs, “the point is, your mind broke of its own volition.”

“How can you tell?” Azula asks, barely above a whisper. 

“Madness comes in many forms. You weren’t right that day, but you weren’t feral and animalistically violent like the infected.” 

Azula would beg to differ, but she isn’t fool enough to say as much. 

“Forgive our impoliteness.” Shinu cuts in. “Have a seat, you need it more than I.” The man stands and Azula slips into the chair. 

Bujing rolls his eyes, “always the gentleman even when society and its expectations are dwindling.” He slams his fists on the table. “You know what I think?”

“What do you think, Bujing?” Chan asks.

“I think that its a bad idea to have her around. You should have seen her on the days before the comet. She wasn’t possessed. No, sir, she was way ahead of them. Beat ‘em to it.” 

Azula’s lip twitches into a scowl, only for a flicker before she wills herself back into a composed state. She supposes that the lapse in stability is still working its way out of her. 

“She’s already crazed without their help. Look at her…”

“Have you ever been chained to a grate for nearly a week. Dehydrated, starving, making a mess of yourself--if you understand my less pleasant implications?” She pauses. “I can provide the experience if you’d like. We can see how long your mind can stay healthy.” She pauses once more. “Though you’ll have the comfort of knowing that someone will be coming back for you. It’s much more maddening to think that you’ve been forgotten.” 

Bujing swallows. She has to admire his persistence and honestly, “you were breaking before then.” 

She shrugs. “I assure you, I am fine now.” Now if only she can assure herself. 

“What are you getting at?” Shinu asks. 

“I’m just wondering why are we keeping her around.” Bujing replies. “When she can snap at any moment. She’s a danger to us all.” 

Azula might have been happy to hear that she is intimidating even with a broken leg was he not discussing kicking her out of her own home.That sort of audacity will have to be snuffed. 

“She will be when she heals, anyways.” He clarifies. “Right now she is just dead weight and a waste of resources.”

Azula gives an indignant sniff. “Clearly I can craft my own resources.”

“Then you’ll have no problem out there.”

Azula’s stomach heaves again. “Have you forgotten whose home you are in?”

“Have you forgotten that the world has ended. Your title is null, Azula.” Bujing smirks. 

“We’re not kicking her out of the group, Bujing.” Chan says.

“I have given you a few reasons to be rid of her. And I’ll give you another for good measure; she isn’t just a waste of resources but she’s useless. She can’t fight them off and she can’t go out on supply runs. If we have to make a hasty retreat she will only slow us down. Dead weight.” He finishes. “Tell me why she should stay?”

Chan is quiet. 

“She’s clever.” One of the serving girls speaks up. “We have a lot of fighters and scavengers here and we have a doctor. But our strategy so far has been...uh…”

“Balls to the walls.” Chan finishes. 

The serving girl nods. “We go in with no plan at all, make it up as we go, and get lucky. We aren’t going to be lucky every time.” 

“And when I do heal…” Azula looks from face to face. “It will be worth your while to have me around.” She holds out a palm full of fire. Should they try to evict her she has already made up her mind to torch the palace in her wake. She doesn’t wait for the discussion to conclude. She doesn’t need to, she already knows the outcome. “I will be in my room.” She preps her crutches and begins to stand. 

“Have dinner with us.” Shinu offers. “It it’s no royal banquet, but it’s something.”

“I suppose that dinner is a good time to begin discussing a plan. You seem to have this place well fortified. You can start by telling me what you have already accomplished and what we are facing.” She looks to Li. “Tell me about the day of the comet.” 

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 77a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention.

-x-

Duffy eventually caved into Charlie's urging for her to go on maternity leave at 35 weeks, one week before she was due to go into hospital for her scheduled section. After three days of leave she was already climbing the walls out of boredom. Charlie was at work and the children were at school so she invited Megan over to join her for lunch and a catch up.

There was a knock on the door as Megan arrived for lunch.

As Duffy opened the door Megan was immediately hit by the fact that the house was spotless and the smell of baking was wafting from the kitchen.

Megan rose an eyebrow, “You don’t like having nothing to do, do you?”

"I don't know what you mean..." Duffy sighed as she let Megan into the hallway.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re baking.” Megan smiled as she entered the house.

"I thought the kids might like some cake when they got home from school later." Duffy shrugged as they headed through to the kitchen. "I'll give you the tour of the house once we've eaten if that's OK?"

“Yes that’s fine. Nice to see you looking so well. How are you feeling?”

"Desperate for it to be over now." Duffy chuckled.

“How long left now?” Megan asked as she sat at the table.

"I'm booked to go into hospital in four days but..."

“But?”

Duffy sighed, not quite meeting Megan's gaze. "I'm not sure I'm gunna make it that far." She admitted quietly.

“Why? Have you been having contractions?”

"Some. They're pretty far apart still so I haven't said anything to Charlie. Today is his last shift before he has leave booked so I didn't want him stressed out and distracted."

“Ok. But you do think it’s wise, considering your history, to play with fire?”

Duffy busied herself serving up the food she'd made for them. "I'm keeping a close eye on it and I've already arranged for my mum to come pick the kids up from school and stay over later just in case."

Megan nodded and watched Duffy closely, “Are you in pain now?"

"I'm ok at the moment."

“Are you sure?”

"I knew that I shouldn't have mentioned it."

“No, I’m glad you have mentioned it. I don’t fancy playing midwife again, you know?” Megan smiled.

"But you did such a great job last time..!" Duffy joked as she placed the plates on the table and moved to sit down.

Megan scoffed loudly and shook her head fondly.

Though she was hungry and knew it would probably be the last meal she'd be able to eat til the next day Duffy found herself picking nervously at her food.

“Why are you nervous?” Megan asked after a while of just watching Duffy play with her food.

"It's silly..."

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

"I've been having nightmares."

“Nightmares? What kind of nightmares?”

"That something happens to the baby." Duffy whispered.

“Like what?” Megan asked gently.

Duffy shook her head. She couldn't say it out loud.

“That the baby dies?” Megan queried gently.

Duffy nodded, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

“Oh pet.” Megan reached over to squeeze Duffy’s hand. “Have you spoken to anyone?”

Duffy shook her head. "I didn't want to worry anyone. It's not like I have any reason to think something bad will happen. I've had enough check ups."

Megan smiled sadly, “You still should’ve spoken to someone.”

"We both know how Charlie would have reacted if I had."

“And how would that be?”

"We wouldn't be having lunch right now would we?" Duffy replied, rolling her eyes.

Megan smiled sadly. “Charlie just worries. How is he anyway?”

Duffy went to answer but gasped and grimaced instead.

“Duffy?” Megan sighed, “I think we need to go to the hospital.”

"Not yet." Duffy replied, looking up at the clock on the kitchen wall.

Megan followed Duffy’s line of vision. “Then when?”

"If I leave here at quarter past two then by the time I've driven across town I can meet Charlie when his shift finishes at 3pm."

“And then will you go and be checked over?”

"Yes." Duffy sighed.

“Thank you.”

The oven timer started beeping. Duffy groaned as she pushed herself up from her chair to go turn it off, just as the baby then decided to kick quite hard. She winced, things were going up a gear.

Megan looked at the clock anxiously.

Duffy turned off the beeper and reached down to remove the cakes from the oven before turning the oven off too. "How about I show you round the house? Walking will help." Duffy suggested, her tone not as confident as her words would imply.

“Ok, if you’re sure.” Megan knew Duffy didn’t feel as confident as her words portrayed. “This house is like a mansion.”

"I know! I still can't believe it's all mine!" Duffy smiled as she led Megan towards the stairs.

“All yours?”

"Yeh, Charlie put the deeds in my name."

Megan smiled, “How do you feel about that?”

"It was quite the shock." Duffy replied as she reached the top of the first flight of stairs, pausing briefly to catch her breath first.

“To find out that Charlie had put the house in your name? I think I’d be in shock too.”

"I was expecting it to be in both our names like the last house."

“I guess Charlie wanted to surprise you?”

"Oh he managed that for sure!" Duffy giggled. "The two smaller rooms belong to Peter and Jake, the big bedroom belongs to the girls and the room at the end is the bathroom." She explained.

“Louis not sharing with Jake?” Megan asked as she glanced around the hall. It was spacious, just what they needed!

"No, he wanted his own room. So he could have some peace and quiet." Duffy replied.

“How is he doing?”

"Things seem to have settled down. We had some serious issues with him back in the spring but hopefully we're over the worse."

“Issues? What kind of issues?”

"Temper tantrums. He broke a window and..." Duffy hesitated, wondering whether it was a good idea to tell Megan the whole truth.

“Duffy?” Megan touched Duffy’s arm gently.

"He lashed out at others." Duffy sighed, turning back towards the stairs.

“Oh Duffy.” Megan sighed.

"It caused some pretty nasty fights." Duffy frowned.

“Between you and Charlie or..?”

Duffy nodded regretfully. "And between the children." She added.

“It’s understandable. How is he now? Getting better? And you and Charlie?”

"He seems calmer. Especially since we moved." Duffy paused. "I probably overreacted a few times and took it out on Charlie which wasn't fair. He was trying his best but I didn't see it like that. Looking back it was more than likely hormones but I didn't realise that at the time." She admitted.

“Having a blended family isn’t easy. Especially not for someone like Louis.” Megan smiled reassuringly.

"I know he's not had it easy but..."

“Neither have any of you?”

"That sounds so petty doesn't it?" Duffy sighed.

“No it doesn’t sound petty.” Megan reassured. “Not at all.”

"Hmm." Duffy harrumphed as she headed up the second set of stairs.

“I’m surprised you haven’t got lost in this house, yet.”

"Yeh, it's crazy isn't it?" At the top of the stairs Duffy turned left and entered her own room, sighing as she sat down on the bed.

Megan glanced around the room, “It’s lovely, spacious. Lots of room.” She watched Duffy closely, almost intensely.

"There's an extra room through there." Duffy pointed across the room to a door opposite to the one leading to the ensuite bathroom. "We haven't decided what to do with that yet. The room across the hall is for Oliver and the baby to share."

“Spare bedroom?” Megan replied. “Where’s Louis’ room?”

"The loft has been converted into two rooms. He has one of those. We're currently debating whether to move Emily out of sharing with the twins to have the other room." Duffy smirked. "The only problem with making that a spare bedroom is you'd have to come through our room to get to it!"

“That sounds a good idea. Have you spoken to Em about the idea?” Megan shook her head, “In that case, no one will use the spare bedroom. I mean, no one wants to come through this bedroom, what with you and Charlie being the way you are!” She smirked.

"I resent that insinuation!" Duffy retorted, giggling.

Megan laughed, “You and Charlie could always use that room for something highly inappropriate.”

"Don't give him ideas!" Duffy laughed. "I think the previous owners used it as an office." She replied, shifting on the bed to try and get more comfortable.

Megan laughed gently, “I don’t think Charlie needs any ideas.”

"No." Duffy replied, grunting slightly as she gave up on sitting and moved to stand up.

“Can we go and get you checked over now you’ve given me a tour of the house?”

"I'm fine." Duffy muttered before she suddenly bent double, leaning her hands heavily into the mattress, her head down.

Megan touched her lower back, “I don’t think baby’s going to wait...”

Duffy groaned. "I think you might be right." She sighed, forced to admit defeat. "Can you get my phone and car keys from the kitchen whilst I get my bag from up here?"

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Megan replied, “No arguments, ok?”

"When did you learn to drive?" Duffy asked, only half paying attention as she tried to make sure she had everything.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you ask that.” Megan grabbed the bag before heading downstairs and grabbing Duffy’s keys and phone.

When they reached the car Duffy was still adament that she drove. "You'll get us both arrested!" She complained as she lent against the car.

“And if I let you drive in your current condition, Charlie will kill me.”

"He doesn't need to know. Just give me the keys!" Duffy groaned.

Very reluctantly, Megan handed over the keys. “I could drive us!”

"How many times have you been behind the wheel of a car?" Duffy asked flippantly as she got into the driver's seat.

“Once or twice.” Megan replied.

"And I've been driving for twenty years... Ooh!" Duffy chewed her lip as she pulled into the road.

Megan shook her head fondly, “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?”

"Once or twice." Duffy replied sarcastically, echoing Megan's earlier statement.

"Will you just concentrate on getting us there in one piece?" Megan sighed.

"Trying my best!" Duffy replied through gritted teeth.

Thankfully, they did arrive at the hospital in one piece.

Duffy wasn't entirely sure how they managed it but she'd never been more grateful to see her parking space in the hospital carpark! As she pulled up in the parking space, another contraction hit. One that was much stronger and powerful than the last. "Fuck!" She swore. This was not how it was supposed to go!

Megan got out of the car, “Can you walk? Or shall I get a wheelchair?”

"I am not using a wheelchair!" Duffy shot back as she attempted to manoeuvre herself out of the car.

“I didn’t think you would.” Megan was trying to keep calm. Her waters hadn’t broken yet so they were fine, weren’t they? Too late... Just as they got to the entrance of A&E, Duffy’s waters broke.

The scream that Duffy let out as they did drew the attention of several of her colleagues who were within earshot dealing with various patients but Charlie was not amongst them.

Her colleagues came to assist Duffy before Megan went to find Charlie, finding him in his office.

He'd been trying to tie up all the loose ends of his paperwork before he went on leave so Megan was the last person he expected to be interrupting him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked with a smile. “It’s a lovely surprise by the way.”

"Your incredibly stubborn wife." Megan replied with a sigh.

“What? Why? Is she ok?” He swallowed and stood up, immediately panic stricken.

[your-high-lady]

Realisation

Summary: This story is about Feyre. She has a couple of small dreams she wants to achieve but turns out it isn't as easy as she imagined it would. Trust me, the story is better than the summary. Modern AU. Feysand.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Chapter 8  Chapter 9   Chapter 10

Chapter 11: Well done, Rhys

Rhys's POV

"Seriously?" Mor's eyes bulged as she stared at me, excitement and shock mingling in her eyes.

I had told the whole group plus Varian, Amren's boyfriend and Feyre, to come to the library so that I could tell them something.

"You're seriously taking us to Disneyland? In LA? In two days, during the two-week holiday, we have coming up?" I nodded my head wryly at Mor, before glancing at Feyre, wanting to catch her reaction. She was quiet, a small smile lighting her face, but I could see her eyes glowing with much more expression. She was excited. I was willing to bet she'd never been to any of the Disneyland parks, which meant this would be a first for her. I gave her small smirk before turning to the others and telling them the whole plan.

We would be living in a hotel, within driving distance of the park. I'd already bought 5-day passes for all of them and also paid for three rooms. Cassian, Azriel and I would be in one, Amren and Varian in another and Feyre and Mor in the last. We'd be there for seven days which meant we could spend at least one day doing something other than enjoying the rides and another resting while the rest of our trip would be spent going through all the things they offered at Disneyland.

Mor squealed before running off, dragging Feyre along with her, presumably to do some last-minute shopping or maybe some other things here and there.

Soon the others left too, and I was left alone to think about Feyre's reaction. She was happy and excited, that much was clear, even though she didn't let it show.

It was enough.

—

Feyre's POV

Disneyland. I'd never been before and the smirk Rhys had given me made me suspect this trip was just a part of some great scheme he was thinking. But I couldn't deny the excitement I was feeling. I'd always wanted to go to Disneyland, and I knew that going with Mor's friends would just make the trip a hundred times better. That's just the type of people they were. They managed to find the fun in everything. It was one of the reasons I loved hanging out with them. They just made me laugh so much. They helped me forget everything bad in my life, even if it was only for a second, and I was able to have fun. I was able to laugh and be happy. I wanted that. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to laugh. Which is why I didn't make too much of a fuss when Rhys told us he'd already paid for everything. Who am I to turn down a whole week of endless fun with such lively people, or I guess, lively in their own unique ways.

—

Two days later, I found myself loading bags into Rhys's car. It was going to be a tight fit, sitting in such close proximity to so many men for about seven hours, but I could make it. At least I hoped I could.

Thankfully seven hours later, I found myself sighing in relief. I'd made it. The multiple stops we'd taken for food and bathrooms had helped quite a lot.

As Rhys parked the car, I looked around. There were a lot of trees and the place actually looked quite welcoming. As we took our bags inside, I noticed beautiful wallpapers of different Disney characters such as Micky and Cinderella. It was actually quite nice. Once we had our keys, Rhys led us towards our rooms. He dropped Amren and Varian first before taking Mor and I to our room. It wasn't very big but not to small either. It was perfect really, The wall the beds were against had been painted a sea blue with the rest of the walls being white. The bedsheets and some few things here and there matched the blue, but otherwise, everything else was a plain white. Rhys gave me the keys, and before leaving told us that dinner was in about 4-5 hours but if we wanted to we could come to the pool before then. The others would also be coming in another couple hours or so.

And so a couple of hours later, I find myself swimming in the hotel pool with the rest of Mor's friends as well as other families/couples who had chosen to use their holidays to come to LA too.

For most of our time in the pool, I just sit off to the side, watching as Mor and Cassian interacted loudly with practically everyone in the pool, sometimes involving the kids in a game of water-tag, and sometimes everyone in a game of water polo. She did force me to play them later with a threat that if I didn't play at least one game she'd burn all my luggage. I believed her.

We had moved to the spa when he came towards me. I looked into Rhys's eyes. I'd drawn them so many times now, I knew them like I knew the back of my hand. They truly were beautiful and impossible to recreate perfectly.

I quickly blinked my thoughts away before focusing again on Rhys. He had taken a seat beside me. "I'm sorry." He started off with.

"Why?" I frowned, though I knew why.

"For being an ass." I looked away from him. I hadn't really meant to be so straightforward or mean with my words but I just couldn't have held it in any longer. I'd had to tell him. And honestly, I was proud of myself for being brave enough to actually open my mouth for once. "It was totally uncalled for, but I want you to know that it's nothing personal. I've just been having a hard time lately and being arrogant and sassy is just the way I handle it, I guess. I didn't mean to upset you or anything." He finished.

I looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Why are you having a bad time?"

'Hmm?" He asked though I knew he had heard my question.

"What's bothering you?"

"I don't really want to talk about right now." He blocked me out.

I sighed. I felt pity for him. Something told me that whatever was going on in his mind right now was the reason for the lines and stress I saw often across his face. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" It had sounded a lot better in my head but once it was out, I couldn't take it back, no matter how cringe I thought my words were. But then he looked up at me, gratitude in his eyes, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Rhys's POV

My nightmares had stopped. Well, not stopped, really. I guess you could say they had lost their consistency. Before I met Feyre I had usually gotten them at least twice or thrice a week but in the last couple months, they'd only been bad enough to waken me thrice in the middle of the night. I'd say that was progress. And something told me that Feyre was the reason for the decreasing number of my nightmares. And something also told me that the closer we got to each, the fewer nightmares I'd have. It only gave me another reason to want her close by me so much. Because there were many reasons. Yes, she was beautiful and smart and charming. But she was also ambitious and artistic. Her mind was so different as if she saw the world in a totally different way as opposed to the way normal people like me saw it. Sometimes I'd catch her just staring at something, her eyes glazed over as if she were cataloguing the view in front of her, in her mind, and deciding which colours she'd use or mix together to paint that tree there and the river here. It astonished and intrigued me so much, that mind of hers.

"For what?" She asked me.

"For,"—being there, comforting me, taking my many sleepless nights away—"being friends with Mor. I knew she was lonely in New Zealand but I also know that when you two met, she was a lot happier person."

She stared at me, eyes narrowed as if trying to figure out whether I was lying or not, but only said, "You're welcome," before turning her eyes away from me to look at Mor who, it looked like, was flirting with another woman with dark brown hair and colourful tattoos running up and down her arms. Looking back at Feyre, I could tell she wasn't surprised. She obviously knew about Mor's sexual orientation. I was glad that Mor was able to be comfortable enough with her sexuality to not hide it. Suddenly Feyre turned back to me. "What do your tattoos mean?"

Feyre's POV

Today was the first time I'd seen his tattoos in their full glory, including the ones on his knees. Mountains with three stars above the peaks. That's what they were, but what did they mean?

"The ones on my chest are just a representation of our friendship hence the reason they have them, too." He paused, glancing at his friends and then looking at me as if deciding whether or not it was worth telling me about the ones on his knees. Or maybe he was thinking about whether or not I'd understand the meaning. In any case, he carried on, "The ones on my knees mean I will bow for nothing and no one but myself, and what I hold dearest in my heart." I tilted my head, partly in surprise but also in interest. It was such a strange reason to tattoo your knees with mountains, but I understood why he did what he did. It was a reminder to himself and to the rest of the world.

"Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it." I finally said, and he nodded back at me. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall, and he said to me, "We should be getting out soon, it's nearly time for dinner." It was then that I realised that more than half the people had already gotten out of the pool. There were only us and one couple, and just as I thought that they started getting out too. I nodded at Rhys before floating through the water to the steps and he went to tell the others to get out too.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting in between Amren and Mor at a table in the hotel dining room. It was quite flash with its red walls and gold embroidery running up and down them. The high ceiling was a series of images ranging from different cultures and mythology shown in different panels of stained glass. It was actually really cool to look at it. We ordered our food and drinks and soon dug into our food which ranged from pastas(Cassian) to salads(Amren). The whole time Cassian and Mor were being goofballs making the rest of us laugh. At one point Cassian made a comment to Mor about the woman she'd been talking to in the spa, but Mor was quick to shut him up with a glare. But then two seconds later she added, "She's straight and wanted to have sex with you. I told her you'd castrated yourself for religious reasons. You can never have sex." Cassian choked on his food, coughing furiously as Mor looked up at him, an evil smile on her face that clearly meant she didn't regret what she'd done and was thoroughly satisfied by Cassian's reaction. That got everyone at the table laughing.

It was during dessert that Rhys got everyone quiet and told us the plan for the next week we were spending in LA.

Basically each day there would be three groups with two having two people each and the last team having three people in their group. Each day everyone would get a few areas in the park and we could spend the day hanging around those areas. Our last day, at Disneyland, we would all stay together and go over everyone's favourites over the whole park. Hopefully, by the end of our five-day pass, everyone would've done everything Disneyland offered at least once if not more than once. Rhys told us that he'd made it this way to avoid all the fuss and arguments they would've definitely happened if we'd all stuck together the whole time. And then on the sixth day before we left, us girls would be able to go shopping or do whatever we wanted while the boys would be going for a Lakers game which was also happening on that day, and then later in the night we'd all go to local bar and just end the trip by getting drunk.

I was really excited.

AN: Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think of it. Tell me everything.

[those70scomics]

Links to the Rest of the Story: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Outline for the End

Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

CHAPTER FOUR THE SQUARE

Donna, Hyde, and Fez had taken the alcove in trigonometry class. That would hide them from Ms. McGee, but Eric managed to hide himself from them. He'd sneaked into a desk behind the alcove, to the left of Fez. They were so distracted by their own conversation that they didn't spot him. “She's gonna interview the moron,” Hyde said. “What, like a job?” Donna said, and Eric kept his head down and pretended to take notes. The angel had warned him this morning to listen. Convincing Donna he was a sociopath took two days. He had five days to undo that damage. Hyde flicked his pencil against his desk. “Dating Jackie's not a job, man. It's slave labor.” Donna laughed, but Fez said, “We can't let them get back together.” “Yeah, we gotta sabotage that 'interview,'” Hyde said. “Jackie's like a termite. She's gonna chew on our house 'til it collapses.” “I think you're mistaking her for my new neighbor,” Donna said, and the tip of Eric's pencil broke. His fingers ached from holding onto the pencil too hard, and he rummaged in his backpack for a pen.  “He's a psycho. Certifiable.” “Forman?” Hyde wrote something in his notebook. “He's harmless.”

“Harmless people don't spread rumors,” Donna said and wrote in her notebook. Ms. McGee must've given a vital piece of trig info, but she might as well have been absent. Eric's focus was wholly on his friends who weren't his friends. “He didn't do that,” Hyde said. “He just told Jackie that garbage about Kelso, just like I tried to warn Forman about Jackie. Looks like he didn't take my advice, though. Timmy saw them foolin' around in the make-out alcove yesterday.” Eric's stomach clenched with nausea, and he pressed his knees together to keep from defending himself. Him and Jackie fooling around? How could these people have such a total lack of understanding of who he was? Because in this life, he was closer to making them his enemies than his friends. The line between like and dislike was thinner than he’d imagined. Maybe that was why Donna rejected his promise ring in their other life. He'd crossed the line inside her mind from love to, “Sometimes I see you in my future, and sometimes I don't.” Fez slammed his palms against his desk. “She was Frenching Junior? So she will make out with the skinny new kid but not the lovable foreign kid?” “Wait a second,” Donna said. “Why is she ‘interviewing' Kelso if she's swapping spit with Eric?” “Maybe 'cause Forman's a lousy kisser. Probably scared her back to Kelso.” Hyde puckered his lips and made kissing sounds at Donna. She planted her hand on his cheek and shoved his face away. “Are you trying to scare me off?” “Don't judge something 'til you've tried it.” “Whatever,” she said, but she was chuckling, and Eric silently thanked God. She and Hyde hadn't kissed. They weren't together, not yet. The school bell signaled the end of class. Eric left his desk and bolted from the classroom. If Donna learned he'd spied on her discussion, it would only confirm her suspicions about him. She didn't have the context for his actions, his reasoning. He'd been worthy of her affection once, but she wasn't offering any opportunities here. He had to make them. In what seemed like an extra-long homeroom, Mrs. Bridges droned the school announcements. Eric had moved behind Jimmy Headgear after roll call. Jimmy was twice the width of Eric, like many people were, but Eric used their difference in size to conceal himself. He didn't need Hyde giving him crap for “fooling around” with Jackie. “Forman.” Eric groaned at Hyde's voice. Hiding in the science lab was impossible. A tap on his shoulder followed, and he turned around. “Hyde.” “Your girlfriend's gonna take Kelso back,” Hyde said. “My girlfriend?” Eric had to play dumb. Hyde couldn't know how much Eric already knew. “The chick you shared tongues with yesterday.” Bile rose on Eric's throat. “What are you taking about?” “You know what I'm talkin' about...” Hyde grasped his belt buckle and widened his stance. “And even though it sickens me to give you this bit of intel — 'cause you're only gonna end up screwing yourself — we want the same thing: Jackie and Kelso to stay broken up.” He glanced behind himself, as if worried someone was eavesdropping, and he lowered his voice. “If you plan on fighting for the girl of my nightmares, go up to the art studio after school.” “Thanks?” “No problem — and we never talked.” He punched Eric on the arm lightly before leaving him. Eric rushed from the science lab after homeroom, and people whispered to on another as he strode down the hall. That rumor about him and Jackie had probably spread through school. If anyone was a sociopath, it was Timmy Wilson, Point Place High’s version of a town crier. But Eric had to finish what he'd started, to help Jackie see Kelso's true nature. By doing that, maybe Donna would finally realize who Eric actually was.

Double-English consisted of an hour-and-a-half of Fez's angry stares. Eric couldn't prove he hadn't kissed Jackie, not without Jackie herself denying it, so he didn't bother responding. Instead, he wrote down all he remembered about Donna: her favorite food, music, and TV shows. The social causes she was passionate about. The bizarre crap her parents had pulled during her childhood. He continued his list during study hall. Donna had another class, and he didn't see her again until lunch. In the cafeteria, he spotted her in the serving line. She must have caught his gaze because her mouth opened slightly, and she looked away. Posters for the school's extra-curricular assembly were taped to the walls. The assembly would take place on Friday in the gym. If Donna wasn't talking to him by then, he'd have to take drastic measures. She'd find out just what she was missing.

“Hey, Buddy,” Eric said at Buddy's table. The seat across from him was empty, as if Buddy had saved it purposely. “Mind if I...?” “It's yours.” Eric sat and pointed at the macaroni and cheese on his tray. “Do you think this is safe to eat?” “If it isn't, we're both in trouble.” A blob of yellow balanced on Buddy's fork. He stuck it into his mouth, and his face didn't contort as he chewed. The flavor had to be decent, and Eric began to eat. “So,” Buddy said, “you struck out with the redhead and decided to go for a brunette?” “Man!” Eric dropped his fork. “I didn't kiss Jackie Burkhart.” “Are you sure?” Eric jerked back his head, as if Buddy had kicked him in the balls. Of course he was sure. Why the hell wouldn't he be sure? Unless the angel was tampering with his memory. Buddy laughed. “Relax, Eric. I'm messing with you. I mean, if brunettes are what you're into...” He gestured to his own hair. “Not even a question,” Eric said. “I'd kiss you over Jackie any day.” Buddy glanced down at his mac and cheese, but a smile slid across his lips. The table was full of the same people as yesterday, all rich and popular. Timmy's gossip-mongering must've reached them, too, but they acted like Eric and Buddy were in a Cone of Silence. Eric's alleged lip-lock with Jackie couldn't be that interesting to them. She was a sophomore, and he was new.

Eric drummed his fingers on the table and scanned the cafeteria. Pam Macy had to be sitting somewhere. He didn't have history today, and that was their only class together. Confirming their deal would settle his mind a little, but his debt to Buddy tugged on him like the Force. Because he did owe Buddy. His friendship these last few days — and even now — was keeping Eric sane. “Hey, is there anything I can do for you?” Eric said to him. “You've been really nice to me, kind of like a guardian angel—” He smirked, hoping the angel heard that. “And I want to repay you.” “Actually, there is something,” Buddy said. “We'll probably have our first lab in chemistry today or tomorrow, so how about being my lab partner?” “You've got it.” Eric swallowed too-big a bite of mac and cheese. It got stuck halfway down his esophagus, and he forced it into his stomach with some water. “Speaking of Mr. Frisch,” he said, rubbing his throat, “have you noticed how gets sidetracked? Like yesterday, he was talking about about the atomic weight of helium, and then he went into how he used to work with weather balloons.” Buddy hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Jeez — yeah! He's a rambler. That's why I need you as my lab partner. Someone has to teach me chemistry.” Eric chuckled but slouched in his seat. His shoulders were more tense than they'd ever been, but the familiarity of their conversation was soothing. In his other life, he and Buddy had talked many times. He absorbed this moment. Took solace in it. Because, for these few minutes, he wasn't lonely. Losing Donna had a brought an isolation he'd never experienced, and that was just the first night. Worse, the isolation had followed him here, like a bad odor he couldn't wash off. If he went back to his other life without that kiss, what would become his friendships? Would Hyde, Kelso, and Fez feel torn between him and Donna? If they did, who would they choose? Buddy's gaze rose above Eric's face. Eric looked over his own shoulder, but a pair of breasts blocked his view. They were clothed in a tight-fitting blouse, and Pam Macy's voice floated into his ears: “Do you have it yet?” She meant her history homework, and Eric said, “Yes, and you'll get it when you meet me at the designated time and place.” “What?” she said. He sighed. Deviousness didn't always translate into other kinds of intelligence. “The art studio after school. Uphold your end of our bargain, and I'll uphold mine.” Pam left without a word. Eric's gaze lingered on her backside as Buddy said, “And that was about...?” Eric turned toward him. “It's all very tangled.” “Gotta say I'm impressed.” Buddy tapped his fork on his tray. “You move fast, making a deal for a quickie in the art studio.” “I didn't—” Eric leaned his head back and inhaled through his nose. His whole body was buzzing, but he'd never act on his physical attraction to Pam. It was an unconscious, chemical reaction. He was seventeen. Thoughts occurred to him, but Donna owned the landscape of his mind. With one word, she'd laid it to waste. With one kiss, she'd restore it.

Eric explained what he could to Buddy in chemistry class, told him about the Rundgren tickets. They did have their first lab today, and they'd partnered up.

“So you sold your soul for a concert?” Buddy said.

“Pretty much.” Eric had copper wire in his hands, and he wound it into the shape of a ball. “But those tickets are my way out of hell.” Buddy didn't question him. He measured nitric acid in a beaker, and they focused on the experiment. On their way to Spanish class, though, he said, “Tell me how it goes with Eric's Angels tomorrow.” “Sure.” Eric wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He was less than two hours from guaranteed Rundgren tickets. But he tried to prepare himself mentally for any mishaps. Pam might flake out on him — or Kelso might flake out on Jackie. But after Eric sat at his desk, Kelso charged into the classroom and headed straight for him. “You,” Kelso said and gripped the sides of Eric's desk. “Don't follow me around today, or I'll kick your ass.” Fez's face appeared by Kelso's shoulder. “Yes, don't follow him.” Buddy stood up from the desk beside Eric's. “You kick his ass, and the whole football team will kick yours.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “Guess whose dad funded their new uniforms this year?” “Ai...” Fez scurried to the other end of the classroom, but Kelso glared at Eric on his way to his desk. He should've kept his eyes forward, however, because crashed into Mr. Soto. “Sorry,” Kelso said. “En español,” Mr. Soto said. “Lo … sorry-o?” Mr. Soto scratched both his hands through his short-cropped black hair. “¿Cómo te metiste en mi clase?”

“I walked,” Kelso said. Mr. Soto waved him away and muttered to himself in Spanish. Kelso sat at his desk and seemed to forget Eric for now, but Eric leaned toward Buddy and whispered, “Thanks for the backup.” “De nada,” Buddy whispered back. Eric wiped his palms on his jeans again and several more times throughout class. It was a futile endeavor. By gym class, he was coated in sweat, and Coach Ferguson hadn't even started drills yet. Students were still entering the gymnasium. New arrivals palled around with people who'd come earlier, and several minutes later, Coach Ferguson blew his whistle. “Everyone get in your squads!” Students scrambled to arrange themselves in their preassigned groups. Eric's squad was lined up beside Kelso's, and Kelso nudged Eric's shoulder. “I told you not to follow me around!” Eric didn't respond, except to avoid Kelso as much as possible during the torture inflicted on them. Coach Ferguson had them sprinting around the gym, tossing basket balls from ridiculous distances, defending the hoop from classmates who were taller and more muscular. The matches were uneven and unfair, but, “Life is unfair, you pansies!” Coach Ferguson often reminded them. Class ended with Eric wanting to collapse. Coach seemed more sadistic in this life, or maybe Eric simply wasn't slacking. His lungs burned as he climbed the stairs to the art studio. His legs were shaking, and after three flights, his quads began to spasm. He stopped and gripped the banister. Kelso needed more of a head start anyway. Pam was waiting for him on the fifth floor. She'd changed tops. Her breasts were now clothed in a blouse made from thinner material. Their shape was easily distinguishable, not that the blouse's neckline left much to imagine. “Only one girl is in there,” she said, gesturing to the art studio door. “I thought this was a contest.” “The other girls will be here soon,” Eric said. He pushed open the door and let her go ahead of him. “But you're sure to win.” At the center of the studio, Kelso and Jackie were sitting on stools. A row of easels acted as a barrier, cordoning off the pottery area from the painting area. Kelso and Jackie had to be deep into the interview. Neither of them reacted as Eric led Pam toward them. “Stand here,” Eric said and positioned her by a canvas-drying rack. It was directly in Kelso's eye-line. “—an astronaut,” Kelso said, finishing an answer to one of Jackie's questions. Only the back of Jackie was visible to Eric, but the stoop of her shoulders revealed enough. She wasn't pleased, and her tone grew strained as she asked another question. “If I take you back, and I caught you kissing another girl, what would you do?” “Uh … boobs,” Kelso said. He’d discovered Pam. His gaze was squarely on her chest. “'Boobs'?” Jackie repeated. Kelso nodded while looking at Pam. “Big ones.” Jackie waved her hand in front of his eyes. “Michael, I asked you a question.” “Just a second, Pam—” Kelso's eyes widened, and his gaze shot to Jackie. “I mean Jackie!” “This is your chance,” Eric whispered to Pam. “Kelso's one of the judges. Woo him.” Pam strutted toward the center of the art studio. She walked around Jackie and brushed her hip against Kelso's arm. “Hi, Kelso.” He jumped off the stool. It fell in the process, and Eric cupped his mouth as Kelso smashed his body into Pam's. She stumbled back a step, but he put on a deeper voice and said, “Hey, Pam. What's going on?” “Michael!” Jackie stood and shoved Pam aside. “Oh, my God, you would have cheated on me, you — you cheater!” She slammed her foot into Kelso’s shin and fled the studio. He doubled over as a cacophony of, “Oh!”s and “Ouch!”s rose from behind the easels. Shoes Eric recognized filled the spaces between the easels legs. Jackie and Kelso had been watched by an audience, and Eric said, “Okay, time to come out!” Hyde, Donna, and Fez emerged from their hiding spot. Hyde was laughing, but Pam strode to Donna and looked her up and down.

“So, you were checking out the competition?” Pam said and glanced back at Eric. “She should be disqualified.” Donna squinted. “Disqualified? What?” But Pam continued talking to Eric. “It doesn't look like any other girls are coming, so who won?” “You,” Kelso said and rubbed his shin. “You totally won.” “Won what?” Hyde said. Fez clutched his heart and frowned. “Jackie may be a spoiled, whiny princess, but she has won my heart.” He slapped the back of Kelso's head. “You don't deserve her, you sonuvabitch!” He poked Eric in the chest. “Neither do you, Junior from Janesville!” He darted from the art studio, probably to chase after Jackie. Kelso, though, seemed to have forgotten Jackie altogether. He stood up straight and closed the distance between himself and Pam. “Pam, would you do the honor of making out with me behind the gym?” Pam stared at Eric, and Eric said, “Yeah, yeah. Chemistry homework. You're the winner.” He pulled Pam's history notebook from his backpack and passed it to her. “You've earned this.” Pam gave him a snotty smile and grabbed Kelso by the shirt. “Let's go.” “All right!” Kelso said.

He followed her like a puppy out of the art studio, and Eric pulled on his collar to air himself out. His dirty deed was done. With any luck, Kelso would leave him alone the rest of the week. “Don't you see what's going on here?” Donna said to Hyde. “Eric brought Pam here on purpose to sabotage Kelso.” “And it worked.” Hyde offered Eric a high-five. “Good job, man.” Eric accepted the triumphant, stinging slap to his palm, but it didn't feel like victory. Donna was scowling, and she smacked Hyde's arm. “Aren't you pissed?” she said. “Why? He did what we were planning to do, only he had an actual plan.”

She seemed unconvinced and turned toward the easels, and Hyde said, “Forman didn't force Kelso to stick his face in Pam's rack. He did that all on his own. He proved Forman right.” “I guess so...” She ran her finger along the top of an easel. Maybe she’d listen to Eric now  — and understand he wasn't a headcase but someone who tried to help people. He willed Hyde to leave him and Donna alone, but Hyde slung his arm around Eric's shoulders instead and thumped him on the chest. “You are one sneaky bastard. Knew I liked ya for a reason. But if you go after Jackie, you're dead to me.” “I told you,” Eric said, keeping his gaze on Donna, “I don't want Jackie. I'd rather make out with a steaming-hot furnace.” Hyde's arm dropped away from him. “Then what was that crap in the make-out alcove?” “Jackie shoved me there for a private conversation, and that's all we did. Talk.” Eric indicated the art studio and everything that had just happened there. “All this was her idea. She wanted to see for herself what Kelso's like around other girls. I said fine because I'd already interfered in her life...” and because Jackie agreed to get him Rundgren tickets, but he left that part out. Donna struck an easel, and it clattered on the floor. “I don't believe you,” she said and marched past him. “You're not just a sociopath. You're a pathological liar.” “Hey, hold on a minute—” He got in front of her before she could leave the studio. “Why don't you ask Jackie before you pronounce me guilty?” “Man's got a point,” Hyde said. “Shut up.” She side-stepped Eric and disappeared through the door. Pressure built up in Eric's chest. He inhaled a few non-calming breaths, found the nearest stool, and tossed it to the floor. “Damn it!” “Don't take it personally,” Hyde said. “She can be a hothead.” “She hates my guts. Doesn't get more personal than that.” “She'll come around, especially with me vouching for ya.” Hyde righted the stool Eric had thrown. He did the same for the one Kelso had been sitting on — and for the easel Donna had hit. “Sorry for bein' a dillhole yesterday. Turns out Kelso's a moron and a cheater. Jackie's better off without him … and we're sure as hell better off without her.” Eric's throat hurt. His voice was sure to squeak if he spoke, so he stayed silent. This Hyde was so much like Eric's, but enough differences existed to be jarring. This Hyde seemed to take school more seriously, to respect it. That had to be Donna's influence. Hyde slapped a stool as if it were a conga drum, creating rhythmic beat. “Say, you ever smoke-up in Janesville?” “All the time,” Eric said. The high-pitch of his voice sent blood into his neck. Hyde probably thought he was lying. “Me and my friends used to have circles once a week.” Hyde quirked up an eyebrow. “How'd you like to have your first circle in Point Place?”

Hyde's house was as disheveled as Eric remembered. Stuffing spilled from the couch. Dirty clothes were strewn on the floor, and cockroaches skittered over them. Hyde's mom was out at a bar. She wouldn't be home for hours, Hyde said, but Eric's answer to him came much later. His lungs and mind were saturated with pot, and he coughed out white smoke. “You should come live with me,” Eric said. “This place is a wreck. You'll like my basement a lot better.” Hyde pulled the joint from his mouth and laughed. “Man, you're stoned as shit.” He was sitting in Bud’s old armchair while Eric had the couch. They seemed to be hundreds of yards apart, but that had to be an affect of the pot. “Stuff in Janesville ain't as good as this, huh?” Hyde said, nodding at the joint. “No, I mean it, man,” Eric said. Someday Hyde's mom was going to leave him forever, but Eric had enough sanity to change topics. “I once told my girlfriend I love cake.” “You have a girl?” Hyde pinched the end of the joint, extinguishing it. “What's she like?” “Smart. Probably too smart. We broke up.” “Sorry to hear that, man. Your love of cake have anything to do with it?” Eric leaned back on the couch and stared up at the peeling ceiling. “We both wanted different things. That's how I ended up here.” “Your whole family picked up from Janesville 'cause you broke up with a chick?” Hyde chuckle-coughed. “Don't buy it.” “Oh, yeah? Would you buy that an angel came to me a few hours after D — after my girlfriend gave back my promise ring? That he sent me to a different version of my life to win my girlfriend back?” Eric sat up straight when Hyde didn't answer. Hyde had propped his legs on the foot stool, and his hands were clasped over his belt buckle. He didn't seem to be breathing. His chest didn't rise and fall, and Eric got off the couch and approached him. “Hyde?” Eric said, but Hyde didn't appear to hear him. If he was asleep, Eric couldn’t tell. Hyde’s eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. A lone lamp lit the living room, but the bulb was dim. Eric snatched the sunglasses off Hyde’s face, and Hyde didn’t react at all. His eyes were wide open and unblinking.

Eric staggered backward and tripped on a rumpled T-Shirt, but his body remained upright. He should've dropped to the floor. “What the hell?” “Try what the Heaven,” the angel's voice said behind him, and Eric turned around. “You can't go telling people an angel sent you here. Didn't I mention that?” “No.” “Well, I'm mentioning it now.” The angel took Hyde's sunglasses from Eric and replaced them on Hyde’s face. “So — what? You froze time?” Eric shut his eyes and pressed his palms into them. This couldn't be real. None of it was. He had to be dreaming one very long dream. A sharp, tickling sensation spread over his chest, as if a thousand spiders were crawling on him. Donna couldn't have broken up with him. She was still wearing his promise ring on her finger and happy about it. He sprinted to the front door and flung it open. The air outside was crisp and stung his lungs as he inhaled deeply. “Wake up!” he shouted on the porch. “Wake up, damn it!” “You are awake,” the angel said beside him. “Bull!” Eric grasped the angel's white suit jacket. “Send me back to my life, the one where Donna and I are together.” “I can't do that. You and Donna broke up.” “We didn't.” “You did.” The angel glanced down at Eric's fingers. “Jostle me all you like, but it won't change what happened between you and her. You have free will, Eric. So does she. If she doesn't want to be with you in this life, in that life, then you have to accept it.” “No!” Eric shoved the angel, but the angel remained where he was. Eric, though, flew backward and fell on his butt, near Edna's potted plants. “I couldn't keep her,” he said, and the pain in his voice rose to his eyes. “I tried everything, and she still left!” The angel moved closer but didn't offer him a hand. “Did you really try everything?” “I...” Eric swallowed the wet lump in his throat. He hadn't tried everything. Giving Donna that promise ring was supposed to lock her down, but she was like a tiger. Caging her would only piss her off, make her gnash at the bars, bite off his hand. “I have to make myself indispensable to her.” “Hmm.” The angel cupped his chin and looked at Eric as if he were a toddler having a tantrum. The disapproval burned through the haze in Eric's head. He stood up and went back inside Hyde's house. He sat down on the couch, clutched his knees, and said, “I pushed, and she reacted. All of this here — and all of that over there — is her reacting to me closing in on her.” “You're getting warmer,” the angel said in Eric's mind. Eric wiped his eyes with his sleeve and cleared his throat. “Thank you.” “You're welcome,” Hyde said, and Eric’s shoulders jumped. Life had shot back into Hyde's body without warning. “So why'd you really move to this crap-hole of a town?” “They shut down the auto-parts plant in Janesville,” Eric said. “But my dad got transferred to the one here. He's the best supervisor they've had, according to him, so...” “Thousands of people got laid off, but your dad caught a break.” Eric nodded. He'd caught a break, too. He had four more days to do better by Donna and get her back.

[smhtaehyung]

when all daisies disappear🌼|| chapter 7

• masterlist

• Pairing: taehyung x OC (mental hospital au)

• Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, romance

• Word count: 3.6k

• Warning: swearing, will contain themes such as suicidal thoughts, depression and physical violence. Some of the backstory for Taehyung’s character is taken from the BTS concepts during the hyyh era. if you feel uncomfortable with the topic of mental illness, I advise you not to read further.

•••

chapter 7 ➸ 413 🌼

There were no daisies on his side of the room. I tried so hard to focus and tried my best to figure it out. It was all so vivid, his touches, kisses and even his groans. But a devastating reality sucked everything out of me once I realised I was dreaming a dream, that missed to include his daisies. Then it all went black, and I wanted to scream. I rested in the dark silence, my fully awake mind wandering through many damaging thoughts.

Suddenly, I felt a pillow hit my leg. "Jia, wake up." I heard Taehyung whisper in his raspy morning voice. "We're gonna miss breakfast again." I didn't want to come back to awakeness, but I slowly opened my eyes to look at Taehyung, who was so clueless to what I had dreamed about. I looked at his side of the room too, that was in this reality blooming with hunderds of daisies. I stared deeply into his eyes. All of that was a lie. A dream. He would never touch someone like that, and admitting that to myself hurt the most. I wanted his soft words to turn to soft touches. I was on the edge of crying as my mind started slowly forgetting that vivid feeling of his skin pressed against mine. I was craving to remember what those touches felt like in that dream, but felt desperate when my mind was slowly forgetting the sight of Taehuyng between my legs.

"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" Taehyung questioned in his usual innocently timid expression. I stared deep into his eyes, feeling numb and unfortunate. I looked down and felt my eyes water. "Did you have a bad dream?" Taehyung asked and I quickly sat up, getting ready to leave the room. I ignored his question and hurried out of the room. A sudden wave of embarrassment hit me as I shut my eyes. Why would my mind dream about him like that? Why did I had to dream that?

"Fuck." I sighed and said to myself as I walked to the dining room. I took cereal as usual and sat down at the nearest empty table. I couldn't really eat, but forced myself to do so, not wanting to seem like I'm dealing with something or someone. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I quickly wiped it away. It's so embarrassing and frustrating to have thoughts and dirty dreams like that about Taehyung. A boy who fears physical contact of any kind. Knowing I could never feel him in that way frustrated me, because he really did seem like he wouldn't hurt me. How could I not believe that after seeing such care over fragile flowers such as daisies.

I sighed and shut my eyes. I was too focused on my thoughts to notice Taehyung, sitting opposite me. I stiffened once realising he was here already. I looked down and rested my hand onto my cheek. "Why do you always come to me when I run away?" I questioned in a cold tone, staring at his cereal bowl. I took a bite and tasted flavours that were suddenly tasting so plain, mainly because of my mood and a racing thoughts that couldn't focus on anything else I was feeling or tasting. He sighed and took a bite, not really wanting to answer my question and argue with me. He finally spoke. "You shouldn't be this upset if just about simple bad dream that's bothering you." His tone sounded like a melody to me as he softly spoke, making me look at him differently ever since that dream ended. I stared at his soft mouth and his playful tongue inside that made me reminisce about the dream all over again. I was really desperate and that made me embarrassed and it made me carry a lot of guilt upon my back, hating myself for thinking that way about Taehyung. Regardless if I wanted it to or not. It was Taehyung. That dream wasn't like him at all.

"Trust me, when I get my bad dreams I remember that it's just a nightmare. That dream is not going to happen in real life because it's not real. This is reality-" He started speaking, trying to comfort me but he couldn't. He had no idea what I dreamed about which was frustrating itself. "Stop saying it's not gonna happen!" I raised my voice, a slight shock showing on his face. "Who said it was a bad dream?" I scoffed and stood up to leave but he stopped me. "Will you stop leaving me like this every single day?" He asked, making me freeze in place. "I don't need to stay here with you." I scoffed and tried to move but my body didn't let me. "You do. I need you to explain why you were moaning my name while you slept, just before you woke up." He explain in this amazingly pure tone that managed to get inside my head and break down all barriers of other thoughts. I sat down. Almost all of my face paled, only my cheeks reddening.

"Did I hurt you in your dream?" He asked, his eyes becoming bigger and cuter as each second passed by. I exhaled a quick and confused breath out. "You can't be this pure to not understand that." I cackled in disbelief. "What?" He questioned, looking at me with an completely serious expression on his face.

"This is not a conversation to be having at breakfast." I said and got up again. He rolled his eyes, seeing me stand up, becoming more annoyed with every move I made. "Then when-?" He asked, becoming slightly frustrated. "I'll let your innocent mind wander around on its own, before you finally get it." I said and started walking away. "No, wait-where are you going?" He questioned, his voice sounding very deep. "A therapist session. Nothing personal, Taehyung." I said whilst looking at him over my shoulder. "It always is personal." He slightly raised his voice in a playful tone for me to hear it. I giggled to myself, mentally slapping myself in disbelief he did not understand what happened right in front of his eyes and perky ears.

The passage of time went quickly as I was already standing in front of the ordination. I knocked twice and peeked my head in. "I'm ready to have that session." I softly spoke. My therapist widened his eyes in shock, looking so surprised yet full of hope. "Hey, Jia. Come in. Have a seat." He said in a welcoming tone. I sat down and got comfortable in the leather chair, being slightly too wide for my smaller proportions. He started asking me about small things, how he would usually do, before asking more serious questions. "You want to completely use my good mood don't you?" I slightly chuckled, being onto him about dragging every detail out when I was somehow in a good mood and feeling nicer. But the worst thing about my "disorder" is that it's very unpredictable. Any sentence or a question could switch my good mood off. And that often happened. I hurt me not having control over my rapid thoughts or heavy breathing or that skipping beat of a heart after a question that would change everything finished. It happened again.

"Have you been sleeping well this week?" Such a simple question made my mind switch to a much darker place, reminiscing about the dream I had last night. I only heard Taehyung's muffled moans and quickened breaths he let out in a moment of pleasure and handling his fears.

"Everything I say here is discrete, right?" I questioned, picking on my sleeve with my nails. "Of course, Jia." He said in a confident and reassuring voice. "I've had this dream after taking my medication yesterday." I said, to which he carefully listened, not taking notes until I'd finish. "It was way too vivid, but represented things that would never really happen. So I felt like a part of my mind that would like for that to happen, happened in a dream that I only recognised wasn't a reality when an object that was always there was actually missing. Then my mind switched off, and I woke up. Just like that." I explained slightly abstract, clearly not wanting to tell what the dream was about. "So, the situation that occurred in a dream...do you really believe that would never happen?" He asked, trying to ask me abstract questions too, getting on a same page with me.

"I guess not. But I don't want that to happen, because involves someone else who could get hurt by us getting in that situation. And I could also get hurt again." I said, motioning with my hands to prove a point I was getting at. "Well, I can't control if that person would get hurt and I suppose you can't do if that person has problems of their own, but I can help you finally get away from your past Jia. And show to you that the only person that could hurt you is in fact you. People leave damage, but we take that damage with a thought of us deserving it, but I don't think you should feel burdened to accept any kind of hurt and acr out because of that." He said and started talking some more, making me want to listen to his thoughts for a long time. Maybe I had never given him enough chances. Maybe it is all my fault. Maybe that or this topic was just perfect for us two to talk about. Regardless what it was, it helped me once our session ended. We explored a lot through my thinking process and he left some great notes to put in my file under the "progress" section. It was a job for him, yes, but I realised that it's not only empty words on those papers. It would be very hypocritical from me to blame him for analyzing me so easily, because I do the same thing to people too, but there's a slight difference. He does it to help people or to at least make some change in their life. I do it so I can use people and know all about their weakness and use it against them. So there's a big difference between the two. Such a difference that made me think of myself as such a selfish rat. Rats. They are a burden and always bring damage. Why did I give such an ugly and offensive nickname to a boy so pure? I need to stop calling him that.

"Uhm-uh- thanks?" I said, being on my way to leave his ordination. "Yes. No problem." He answered, knowing it was hard for me to express gratitude to people, but today realised I do have some in me.

I walked down the hallway and noticed a door of mine and Taehyung's shared room, being almost fully opened. I walked in and noticed Taehyung inside, laying on his bed. He stared at the wall, looking blank. "You okay?" I softly questioned. "Yeah." His head flinched to my direction as he said. "Okay." I said in a doubtful tone. I squatted as I looked for something at the bottom of my nightstand. I noticed Taehyung's nervous figure from the corner of my eyes. "Hey, do you want to go to the roof today?" He asked in one short quick breath, sitting up. I stared at him, questioning his actions. "Uhm, okay? When do you want to go?" I asked. "I noticed we have no activities after 7 pm, so is 7:08 okay for us to meet up there?" He asked. Why does he want to go separately? Why is he so nervous?

"7:08? That's a very specific time." I slightly giggled at him. "Well I actually timed how long it takes to get there." He casually said. "You went there alone?" I asked in a worried tone. He simply nodded. "Dude! That's my spot. If you get caught they're gonna put extra security to get to it and then I'm fucked." I whispered, slightly frustrated. "But they could catch you too." He softly spoke. "I have years of practice! I trust myself more than you! You didn't even know about it before I brought you." I scoffed in a more calmed way as I shook my head in disappointment.

"Just be there." He said in a numb voice. I rolled my eyes.

•••

6:58 pm. Music therapy. 10 minutes before meeting Taehyung on the roof and he's not even here with me. Did he skip music therapy to go on the roof? 6:59 pm. Still thinking about Rat. I counted down the last 60 seconds, immediatly leaving my chair once the big blue clock on the green wall went to zero. Everyone slowly got up too, me being almost halfway to my room to take my jacket. To my surprise, Taehyung was inside. Staring through the window as he counted his daisies. "Do you count your daisies every single day because they warned you that I'm a klepto or?" I asked, trying to break of the silence without attacking him with questions about where he was. I closed the door and heard his voice echo through the room. "Just making sure they're all here." He softly spoke. I stood blank for a long second before asking a question. "How come you're not on the roof? It'll be 7:09 pm and we don't want that for you OCD brain." I playfully teased, to which he started talking in a more serious way. "Can we stay in our room and talk?" He softly asked, slight desperation in his voice to make me stay. "If you won't go, I'm going." I snapped back, not knowing how to react, rejecting emotion being the only thing I always fell under. "Are you seriously going to leave me?" He asked in a more desperate tone, making me completely stiff. "What did you expect from me?" I asked in a slightly over-the-top way. "Why the change?" He asked, his face changing emotion to a more frustrated one. "What?" I absurdly asked, not understanding. "How can you turn from being so human to this after only one night?" He said, stepping close to me. My heart raced and my breath hitched. "What, you're saying I'm not a human right now?" I asked, feeling frustration build up inside of me. "That's not what I-" He tried to explain, rolling his eyes at my sudden attack. "I'm fucking bipolar, Taehyung. I'm hard to deal with. You know that, so why are you so overly attached to me?" I snapped. My words made him snap too. The same moment was repeated, just a different place and slightly more frustration.

"I'm overly attached?! I fuck with your subconcience so much you had a dream about fucking me-!" He blurted out, leaving both of us in shock over what he just spat out.

Taehyung was never really the kind to swear and use language in such a damaging way. So that part surprised me too. "You're such an asshole! Take that back!" I raised my voice, panicking. I started breathing heavily, hating this kind of a verbal argument, hearing something I never wanted to hear from him. "No! You're hurting everyone around you! Why does that not bother you?" He kept throwing those words at me as I felt myself having a panick attack. "Not everyone's life goal is to hurt you. Can you stop being so selfish and self absorbed?!" He kept talking. Couldn't stop. Taehyung snapped, again.

"And not all boys are going to hurt you like that one did! Why do you blame me for listening to the rumors if you won't tell me the truth? Why should I trust you when you lie so much?!" He talked about the rumours. There once was a love interest I had in this hospital. Things weren't so nicely played out.

"He killed himself after we fought!! He tried to get under my skin the same way you do! How the fuck could I trust you or any other boy after that?! IT NEVER WAS ABOUT ME. I DON'T WANT YOU TO MAKE ME SAY THINGS I'LL REGRET AND THAT YOU'LL END UP KILLING YOURSELF!" I raised my voice, tears rolling down my cheeks. Taehyung's face softened as he carefully listened. "You only know about the rumors that yeah, he had sex with me but that I kept stealing his meds so he would never leave the hospital! Do you-do you really believe that?!" I spoke in a panicked tone.

"Guess you didn't analyse me well to notice I care too much ab-about people." I said and felt my hands shaking with nervousness and panic.

I thought that I could argue with Taehyung and still fool him with my glass shield, but right in that moment, Taehyung was breaking the pieces of my glass shield and shoving the broken glass into my mouth. "I guess you finally fucking snapped. See what you did. Fuck you. Fuck you-" I said, wiping my eyes full of tears. I felt myself having a mental breakdown so I slid down to the floor as my back leaned against the mattress. "Jia. Calm down. Please." Taehyung pleaded with tears in his eyes. He kneeled down and got very close to me. I couldn't stop hyperventilating. "It's okay, it's okay." I heard him whisper in a slight grunt.

While I felt trapped in the prison of my thoughts, I was too focused to notice why Taehyung was grunting. My body was regaining conscience from feeling numb as I felt Taehyung's fingers stroke my hair. Taehyung was touching me, feeling discomforted, but did everything to calm me down.

"Don't do that-" I worried about his condition but he cut me off. "I'm-I'm okay." He slightly grunted. Then there was silence. A shock like that calmed me down as I finally didn't have to savour the touch of his hands. In that deafening silence, Taehyung's hands went on a journey. He collected all the courage he could and quickly grabbed my small hand, putting it in his. He breathed in and out, shutting his eyes as he felt slight pain. He took my hand and guided it to his face to touch his cheek. "Are you sure? I don't think this is a good idea-" "Please." He whispered mid his quickened breaths and all I could do was let him. My fingertips pressed on his cheek as we both let a breath out. Taehyung's hands found my neck as his eyes were still glued shut. "Rat. Don't do this just because you think that I want-" I tried to speak in panic but a sudden touch interrupted my thoughts completely and made it all a blank page for me. It wasn't an usual touch. It was a touch of lips. So soft and timidly pressed onto mine.

I winced in realisation, in sync with Taehyung, who winced out of pain. His fingers didn't move, so I tried to keep mine on his cheeks, not moving. I pulled away and stared into his eyes as they slowly opened. "I'm doing it...for me too." He breathed out. Taehyung was experimenting with his phobia, making me panic about how much he could handle. "This is not a good idea, Rat." I whispered, trying to collect myself. "You're not the only one who has been confused about their subconciousness." He said. "I keep wanting to touch you, even if I know I couldn't. I never thought I would think of someone in that way again." He said and looked down. "I don't want to hurt you, Taehyung." I spoke, feeling calmed down after the kiss. "I'm on some meds, so I can take it. Let me use that to do things I would want to feel better." He spoke, his words triggering me from sounding quite familiar from my dream. "You're going to feel bad in the morning." I said and moved my hand from his cheek away, but that only made him experimently grab the side of my waist, making me come closer to me. "Please." He said and before breaking down in tears again, I pressed my head into his chest and grabbed him by his shirt. His arms awkwardly made their way around me. Taehyung's breathing sped up and his heart beat was going at an incredibly fast rate. "Kiss me more. Please." He whispered. I moved up and slowly positioned my hands on his neck and jawline to bring him closer to me. He shut his eyes in pain but relaxed his face once he felt my lips on his. I kissed him so softly, trying to apologize with touching him. He reacted to the kiss better than the touch, that was for sure.

When I touched his hard chest I felt him let out another wince of pain. "Okay, that's enough." I said and pulled away from the kiss. Taehyung moved away and tried to process what had just happened. "It's not good to experiment with these things." I tried to explain to him but he cut me off, looking into me. "This is not really an experiment for me. More like a thing I'm dying to feel like I used to." He said and looked down. Then we talked. We talked for hours that night. And I was scared. And you were scared too, Rat. But that night we were on our way to go to sleep on opposite beds in silence, yet our minds filled up the room with our thoughts. Both of us young, confused and scared. I know that we both didn't know what was next to do. And what even were we. And if it really is possible for us to be something else.

In sudden panic and jumped out of my bed and turned on my lamp. "What's wrong?" Taehyung asked, slightly sitting up. I had to check if this wasn't just another vivid reality. I stared at his side of the room, full of daisies. I slightly smiled.

"Nothing, Rat. Just checking if all daisies are there."

part 8

[jarienn972]

The Right Place - Chapter 17

My apologies to anyone following this WIP story of mine as it took me far longer than planned to get the latest chapter written and posted. I've had it mostly finished for a few weeks but with so many other things on my plate, this got postponed multiple times.

I struggled a bit plotting out this chapter and the next installment as I didn't want it to come off as too much of a police procedural, so this is a bit of a compromise I resigned myself to. To bring everyone up to speed from the last installment, this chapter primarily focuses on their case against Benjamin Toliver, the abductor that Killian unmasked and identified from photographs. Yes, the question of the potion Ursula gave Emma in the last chapter will be addressed and the investigation will be wrapped up soon. (note: this chapter is a little light on actual interaction between Emma and Killian due to the focus on the investigation, but I promise, it’ll all be tied up soon)

From the beginning on Tumblr: Prologue/Chap 1  Chap 2  Chap 3  Chap 4   Chap 5  Chap 6  Chap 7  Chap 8  Chap 9  Chap 10  Chap 11  Chap 12        Chap 13  Chap 14  Chap 15  Chap 16

Also on AO3 and FF.net

Friday morning, Portland suburbs

Even before the early morning sun's rays began peeking through the blinds of Aaron McCallen's guest room, Emma knew she was going to be faced with a very long day. Killian had slept for most of his first night out of the hospital, but the previous night's over-exertion had taken quite a toll on him. He'd awakened twice – once drenched in a cold sweat that had likely been the result of a nightmare he wouldn't speak of and the second time, clearly in pain, but too proud to admit it. He'd pushed himself up and out of the bed, slowly trudging his way across the hall to the bathroom as an excuse, but she knew better.

She hadn't been able to fall back asleep after the second interruption so as her husband snored softly beside her, she lay awake thinking about their next course of action. The only thing they were one hundred percent certain of was that Benjamin Toliver was the assailant Killian had unmasked before he was stabbed so he could, without a doubt, identify Toliver as one of his abductors. Big brother Jackson's involvement was inferred, but Killian had only heard his voice, having seen nothing of his second assailant's face except the eyes. Donovan Donleavy's involvement was the most questionable because Killian hadn't seen Donleavy's face until after being stabbed. A good attorney could spin that around to speculate Killian may have been hallucinating due to shock and blood loss so she knew they'd need more than Killian's shaky eyewitness account to prove their case against the supposed ringleader.

That, of course, left only one solid pursuit: put pressure on Benjamin Toliver until he cracked.

Maybe it wasn't the most ethically sound option, but the kid was still guilty of participating in an armed robbery, kidnapping and an attempted murder. He might not have been the one to thrust that blade into Killian's back, but Toliver was just as culpable and Emma already knew he was their weakest link. She was more than willing to leverage everything they had against Toliver if he'd implicate Donleavy.

Of course, taking this direction also meant that Killian would have to formally identify Toliver and that Donleavy would soon learn that the man he'd stabbed and thrown overboard was very much alive. Question was – would the well-known business man try to cover his tracks or would he simply use his wealth to flee? So much of this case was going to be hearsay unless they could get either a good confession or more solid evidence pointing to Donleavy – and that is, of course, where things got iffy. She thought about the truth serum Ursula had provided last night. Did she dare use it? It wasn't as though she'd be trying to make them do anything illegal. She just wanted them to tell the truth about the robbery and about who had hired the brothers to do it. Would it be crossing too many lines to use a little Storybrooke magic to facilitate a confession?

She'd have to contemplate that particular option very carefully because she obviously couldn't go to McCallen or Haviland for advice.

First thing first, she needed to confer with her husband to ensure he was ready to take that step. Should Killian agree, she'd then have to make arrangements with Haviland or McCallen to have Benjamin Toliver brought in for questioning and put him in a lineup. She wasn't sure which agency would hold jurisdiction here since the robbery had been Haviland's case but Killian had been stabbed out in Casco Bay which fell under Cumberland County Sheriff jurisdiction.

Well, Emma thought to herself, they can battle that one out.

Friday Morning, Downtown Portland

It came as no surprise to Emma that Killian was in full agreement with her suggestion to further interrogate the younger Toliver brother and even go forward with a formal lineup if needed. Neither of their local colleagues was particularly keen with Killian giving up the safety of his current anonymity, but after Emma explained her theory, both Haviland and McCallen came around and agreed to the plan. There was no way to know for certain how this would go, but it was, at the very least, a place to start.

Sgt. John Haviland made the phone call to the Toliver residence himself, intending to keep his inquiries separate from Emma and McCallen's line of informal questioning yesterday. Haviland's approach to the investigation would now focus on the kidnapping and attempted murder but since the sergeant didn't want to tip their hand too soon, he made a voluntary request for Toliver to come to the downtown Portland headquarters. He was fully prepared to arrest Toliver if necessary, but the young man surprised him by agreeing to come on his own accord.

Benjamin Toliver arrived at the Portland Police Department headquarters at just after 11AM and was directed by the uniformed officer at reception to Sgt. Haviland's desk inside the busy squad room. While an interrogation room would have been preferable, Haviland wanted to keep a casual appearance. They were all going to tread very cautiously so as not to spoil anything.

Haviland pushed back from his almost pristine desk and stood up as he spotted Toliver entering the squad room accompanied by another uniformed officer. "Benjamin Toliver?" the sergeant asked, sounding tentative even though he already recognized the sandy haired young man after tailing him for a fair portion of the previous day. He noted Toliver's skittish behavior as he approached, his eyes flitting around the room nervously as he nodded in acknowledgment of Haviland's question, verifying that he was indeed Benjamin Toliver. "Thank you for coming down here to speak with me today. I'm glad your foreman was willing to allow you some free time to do so. I just have a few questions for you about an ongoing case of mine…"

"Uh, sure…," Toliver responded as Haviland offered him a chair beside his desk. "This about that robbery that the Sheriff was asking me about yesterday?"

"Actually, no," Haviland told him. "That's not the case this is in regard to. It's something entirely different, but before we get started, I do need to advise you of your rights…"

"Are you arresting me?" Toliver asked suspiciously.

"I just have some questions right now, but want you to be aware of your legal rights," Haviland reminded him, reciting the required speech as the younger man fidgeted on the metal chair. "It's really just a formality at this point, but it's part of the job, you understand?"

"Yeah, sure…," Toliver stammered, trying unsuccessfully to conceal the sheen of sweat forming on his skin. "Not sure how much help I can be and I hope this won't take too long…"

"Hopefully, this will be quick," Haviland stated as he dropped back into his own desk chair facing Toliver. "Now, may I ask where you were on Sunday – late morning to early afternoon- say 10AM until around 2PM?"

"Sure you weren't talking to the Sheriff's department? They asked me the same thing…"

"I'm just trying to establish a base timeline," Haviland assured him. "So, would you be able to answer that question?"

"I was with my brother all day," Toliver replied, reciting the same answer he'd given Emma and McCallen yesterday - which wasn't likely a complete lie as they had every reason to suspect that Jackson had been with him. "We didn't really do much…"

"You didn't go anywhere?"

"No, not really," Toliver lied, giving Haviland almost the identical routine he'd used the previous day. "Can I ask you what this is all about?"

"Like I said, just trying to establish a foundation here, but since you asked, you're a person of interest in an attempted murder case," Haviland stated, watching the color drain from Toliver's face as panic set in.

"What? Me?" Toliver protested. "I haven't ever tried to kill anyone!" His raised voice drew the attention of nearly everyone in the squad room.

"That's what I'm trying to determine, Mr. Toliver," Haviland replied, maintaining his casual demeanor despite his suspect's outburst. "How about we move this conversation somewhere more private?" The sergeant gestured toward a small conference room off of the open area of the squad room – a conference room already occupied by Emma who was ready with a few more queries of her own. When Toliver agreed, Haviland escorted Benjamin Toliver into that conference room where he immediately spied the blonde-haired Sheriff from yesterday. "I believe you've already been introduced to Sheriff Jones?" Haviland asked with a smirk as he steered their suspect toward the long, rectangular table in the center of the room while closing the door behind them. "Have a seat, please."

"I thought you said this wasn't about the robbery?" Toliver complained. "What's she doing here?"

"Sheriff Jones has a personal connection to the case I'm investigating, as it happens to involve someone from her town," Haviland explained as he pulled out a chair for Toliver, then strolled around to the opposite side of the table and sat down, once again facing his suspect. Emma chose to remain standing for now, her attention focused on Toliver as she awaited his responses and reactions to the questions they had prepared for step two of their plan. "Now, getting back to where we were, I want to explain that I had you come in here today because of an eyewitness account that places you at the scene of an attempted murder…"

"What?! That's crazy!" Toliver shouted, shaking his head as he continued to voice his denials.

"I have to say, the whole story is a little crazy," Haviland continued, a hint of a smirk curling a corner of his mouth as Emma handed a manila folder to her colleague. Haviland emphatically slapped the folder against the table top before flipping open the cover and lifting the top photograph from the stack of enclosed documents. "On Sunday afternoon, a couple of fishermen found an injured man unconscious on a deserted beach. This man was just a John Doe for a couple of days in the hospital, but eventually, he was identified as Killian Jones from Storybrooke, Maine – Sheriff Jones' town. Once Mr. Jones regained consciousness, he started to tell us a very interesting tale as to how he ended up on that beach…"

Haviland paused there as he turned over the photograph and slid it across the table so that it came to rest directly in front of Benjamin Toliver, prepared to gauge his reaction to the image. It was one of the many evidence photographs that Deputy McCallen had taken upon arrival at the hospital showing a comatose Killian Jones scant hours after he'd been rescued. In the photo, Killian's lips still had a faint bluish tint from cyanosis, his skin ashen from blood loss and hypothermia. Even with portions of Killian's face obscured by medical equipment, they fully expected Toliver to recognize an image of the man who had unmasked his abductor.

"Th…This guy says I tried to kill him?" Toliver stuttered, becoming increasingly agitated as his eyes remained fixated on the photograph before him.

"He did and he also worked with our sketch artist to created a composite that looks an awful lot like you," Haviland replied, cautious of his tone in case he started sounding too accusatory and Toliver suddenly demanded a lawyer. They didn't want this questioning to come to a screeching halt just yet.

Behind Haviland, Emma stepped over to a narrow counter where a metal pitcher of ice water and a stack of disposable paper cups rested. She lifted the pitcher and filled one of the cups about halfway then, careful to remain out of sight of either Haviland or Toliver, added a few droplets of Regina's potion to the water. She wanted answers right now and if this would speed things up a bit, she was willing to take the chance - especially since Toliver wasn't the person they were really after anyway. If a little touch of magic would lead them to the truth faster, she was prepared to skirt that line.

"Here…," Emma began as she spun around, water cup in hand. "Have a drink of water and just relax a little." She offered the cup to Toliver who almost greedily accepted with his trembling hands. "As I'm sure Sgt. Haviland here has already told you, we're just trying to piece some things together." Toliver's nerves were already getting the best of him and despite his lies, his body language made it clear that he recognized the face in the photograph. Emma tried hard not to grin as the young man took a tentative sip from the cup, then proceeded to finish the rest in a single gulp.

Toliver was already beginning to crack and Emma had no qualms about helping to widen those fissures.

"So, you keep staring at that photograph," Haviland commented. "You recognize him?"

"Uh… Not really," Toliver stammered once again, but then added: "Might have seen him around somewhere…"

"Somewhere?" Emma prodded. "Mr. Jones is a bit of a mariner. Maybe you saw him around the harbor?"

"Don't get to the harbor much," Toliver responded, shaking his head anxiously. "Not really fond of boats…"

"You've been out on a boat?" Emma continued her query with a side-eyed glance toward Haviland whose face registered a bit of trepidation over her line of questioning – until Toliver's next answer stunned them both.

"I was out on a fishing boat last Sunday…," Toliver announced before even realizing what had rolled off of his tongue. Haviland immediately straightened and slid forward in his chair with eager anticipation. "Oh, damn…" Toliver sighed as his rash statement had time to sink in.

"You were out on a fishing boat on Sunday?" Haviland repeated Toliver's words back to him for clarification. "Thought you said you were with your brother all day Sunday?"

"I don't know why the hell I said that," Toliver replied, his left leg now bouncing nervously beneath the table. "We weren't fishing or anything. We were just supposed to use the boat to take the lady out into the bay…"

"The lady?" Haviland was stumped as Toliver's statements were starting to get interesting. "What lady? And why were you taking some lady out into Casco Bay?"

"The lady from the store out by the ferry terminal. I don't know her name…" Toliver continued to spew facts. "I was just hired to do it…"

Haviland had to take another brief pause to piece Toliver's fractured statements together. "You were hired to take the store owner out into Casco Bay in a fishing boat?" Toliver might not have been making a lot of sense but the little blurbs he kept expelling were gradually proving their theories.

"Yeah, we were," Toliver confirmed, the confession leading Haviland to shake his head in disbelief. The hastily thrown-together plan to try and elicit a confession had actually worked. "I really need to call my brother though. Think I could call him now?"

"Sure," Haviland replied. "Why don't you see if he can come down and join us so we can get some more clarification?"

"Okay," Toliver said timidly. "I think he's going to be a little pissed at me…"

"Yeah, he might be, but all we're really trying to do is get to the truth about what happened to Mr. Jones," Haviland reminded him. "Let's have your brother join us and we'll see how that goes…" The few details Benjamin had provided had tied up a few of the loose ends but Haviland wasn't going to be too quick to curse their good luck. There was still much to learn and hopefully, even more would be revealed once both brothers were present.

[keevansixx]

Et Tu...Elohim?

 Ahh, welcome welcome...do have a seat...I'm so very pleased you accepted my humble invitation, and i'm quite certain you have millions of questions floating around in you head that will be answered in the course of time, but for the interim, I will start by saying this....

Someone, glancing up at the heavens in distant longing, once penned the phrase "We are all made of stars.." never realizing how close to the ancient truth they truly were. And if they were ever privy to what really happened those many tragic millennia ago, the burden of that knowledge would surely drive anyone to  madness. and a slow debilitating self inflicted death.

That's why human rationalization came up with all the stories, tales, myth, and legends. Not as an entertaining tool to while away a long winter's frigid spell, or frighten young children into eating their sprouts and greens, but as a way to remember those old truths long since dead and buried...

Sadly, the old ways have been filtered down throughout the ages by untold countless orators, each handing a story down from eldest to youngest through the passages of time, until the original truths, that were such basis of those stories, were buried under the fanciful machinations of each speakers time, or frame of reference to such a degree, that any such ancient wisdom to be gleaned was long since altered from it's original intent, into fanciful flights of creative imagination that serve now more as a guide to future humans, a bit of entertaining fluff with moral lessons, than as a warning of things to come, or what has been, and ever shall be again.

What I am about to tell you is of utmost importance to prepare you for what is yet to come. You may call them prophesies, soothsaying, mad unhinged ramblings, or whatever terminology you may deem fit to interpret as you see best, and to create a frame of reference that your mind can somewhat comprehend (or at least reasonably accept to some degree) and hopefully, somewhere in this exchange, you will find the resolve to see the great work fulfilled, and finally close the last chapter of this story for good.

Ahh, I see your puzzled expression, and assure you everything is quite alright for the moment, be at peace...no need to fret just so yet...all is well...but first, as all ancient decorum dictates, needs must come an introduction, followed by an explanation, a choice, and finally...if all goes swimmingly...hope.

Who am I?, you ask. Well...lets just say, for simplicities sake, that I have existed for a very very long time. Far longer than you've known recorded history to exist, and if I were to divulge the actual truth of the matter, you would think me insane, and most likely storm off in a flurry of self righteous indignation, then report me to the nearest psychological institution as a raving lunatic who needs saving from itself afore someone gets hurt. Let me assure you, I'm neither insane, going insane, nor inclined to prance naked through the gardens at midnight during a full moon (though, I would highly recommend trying the latter exercise at least once or twice in your lifetime as it is highly a soul cleansing liberating experience to free oneself from the constraints of polite society every now and then.) and am most astoundingly sane, given my personal knowledge of events that have transpired before, and one day, shall be again.

If I had to place a label on my existence (as the human animal is often want to do) I would say that I am a watcher....the last man on the wall, the keeper of the arcane, the wise old bastard in the shadows, that old person sitting on the street corner with the little small dog...with the hat on the pavement and the tiny sign begging for change, the alchemist, the weaver, the dreamer, the wordsmith, the alpha, the bard, the Sassenach, Oracle, doomsayer, destroyer of dreams, the original nightmare, the balance, the harlequin, or any number of descriptive titles they've used to understand the knowledge I possess down through the ages....but for simplicities sake, for the time being....you can call me Adam....

Now that the introductions are formally met, it is high time I explain to you the nature of why you are here, how you came to find me, and hopefully....a choice.

It all starts with a simple phrase told throughout history from the oldest to youngest with the magical incantation...."Once upon a time...."

 Once upon a time, before things became written down, and the stories altered beyond what was true, there was a little blue gem of a world orbiting a small star. Nestled in the outer regions of a young galaxy at war with itself, this tiny world became the nexus of a great conflict.

Oh, it never started out as such...for a long time, it simply existed. Turning from a fiery amalgamation of dust and stone, to a lush living world capable of supporting life in all it's splendor. As time passed, the young world was visited by beings from afar, and as each one came and went, they left their small marks upon the young earth, leaving behind traces of themselves everywhere they touched down. As I said, war had come to the little blue gem in the middle of nowhere, as it had for billions of years on countless other worlds. Those races in conflict had used the earth as a waystation many times on their way to other parts of the galaxy. Sometimes they fought, many times they died, and every trace of them crumbled to the dust and ash of a young planet as if they had never been.

I could go on, recounting all the little changes their petty wars wrought upon the earth, but quite frankly, that would take more years in the telling than you have left upon this plane of existence, and I'm a little pressed for time this century, so I'll gloss over the boring bits, and try to keep it as simple as I can for you to understand....now where was I?

Ahhh, yes....a great cosmic war, and in the center of this region of the galaxy, the earth. now, at this point in time, I must point out that at the height of this great war, many races existed upon the surface of the earth.....not because they wanted to, mind you...but because this planet offered much in the way of rest and recovery (not to mention basic resources) from an endless pointless war. Think of it as somewhat of a truce...a sort of cold war pact between races that they would not try to annihilate each other while stopping on their way to the next big battle. Of course, sometimes things don't always go according to plan, and accidents do happen from time to time, but I digress...The earth became a sort of neutral ground for conflicting species. They, somewhat begrudgingly, existed upon this planet, before your ancestors learned to walk erect, and pick up sticks to dig grubs out of the ground.

That's where I sort of come into our little tale, you see, an accident of sorts, not out of spite nor malice, but a simple miscalculation that set me upon my current path. And the reason I say it is "our tale" is because sometimes... things happen for no reason at all other than sheer chance. It was sheer chance that humans encountered pathogens that altered their DNA, It was blind luck that out of the myriad billions of pathogens carried from distant worlds to ours, humans encountered the ones that started them on the path to sentience. You could call it fate, or destiny, or divine order......whatever gives you comfort and helps you to sleep soundly at night. But the harsh truth of humanity is.... we were an accident created by hands not our own, and when the other races learned of our existence, believe me, there was hell to pay. Some of the races wished to exterminate the entire species strain, for they saw us not as new lifeforms worthy of preservation, but a perversion of their own genetics, blaming each other for the "accident" and wishing to reconcile the matter before the contamination was irreversible. Other races saw us as a potential, or means to an end, wishing to nurture the new species like a proud parent holding a newborn for the first time, and then there were races ambivalent to humanity in general, wishing to neither help, nor harm, the new flesh whatsoever. They sort of tolerated humanity much like an elderly couple shaking their canes and telling children to "keep off their lawn".

This went on for quite a very long time, relatively speaking, humans existing underfoot of stellar beings, all the while learning from each new experience, from the stone age, to antiquity. I like to remember that early age as the age of myth and legend.  You see, that's where many of our oldest stories started from...humans seeing things they cannot explain, and trying to place into words the things they seen while walking hand in hand with life not of this world.

I could tell you of the fair folk.....I think your stories called them "the Fey" or "the Aes Sidhe" such creative license you lot prescribed to them, when in all truthfulness, yes... they were beautiful (at least by human reckoning), yes... they were powerful (of course, back then it was easy to misinterpret all technology as a form of magic.) but they were also arrogant, cruel, spiteful, and clever....when they finally left earth in their stern viewports to pursue other targets, I breathed a slight sigh of relief....and wished they never to return. For all they did, and didn't do, humans still worship them like some misguided child, never knowing the horrors that could have been inflicted on them in those early days. Though, to be fair, there were a few that I had wished stayed behind, they were not like their counterparts, and viewed humanity with whimsy, bringing laughter and joy wherever they roamed....I miss those moments.

I could tell you of the Asir, but then again, I assume you are familiar with all the scandanavian myth and legends surrounding them. Warlike, fierce, proud....when they fought amongst the stars, worlds broke and shattered, stars dimmed with their passing. As with all things, they too, moved on to greener pastures and different wars, yet leaving their marks upon an impressionable young race called humanity.

Or the beings whom inhabited what you know as south America....I feared for humanity then, for those masters were not partial to us in any way, shape, or form. And when they left for their home worlds, those humans left behind in their shadow worshiped them with blood and fire, begging them to return, I hope they never do...

The Vatara, and their vimanna...I assume you are well versed in Hindu mythology? good....when their race landed upon the earth, the wars were mostly over with, with a few skirmishes over the skies that made it into folklore. For the most part, their race was benevolent towards humanity, with a few notable exceptions, but then again....all those early interstellar races had their quirks, but the Vatara....well, they did it with style. 

Asian mythology? The Yi's. Yes...they too were beings from another world who came by for a visit. And like all powerful races, they came and went as they pleased. But for the most part, they were pretty neutral about the whole "humanity" thing, and they did give a few tidbits off their table to the new race on the block. I mean, paper...come on! that was sheer brilliance...without it, the humans would be still scratching away on stone walls and clay tablets. thank the Yi's for that one. 

Egyptian mythology....astronauts.

Hebrew mythology.....astronauts.

every mythology.....yep....astronauts. (I know...I know....right at this moment you've got that weird crazy haired guy pic in your minds eye holding up two hands and saying "Aliens"...and I know it sounds far fetched, and that maybe you need a strong drink and some tin foil to swaddle your head in, but they are not all wrong in their assumptions. I'm not saying they are all absolutely right either, but the shades of truth are still there within the periphery of that narrative should you choose to chase that rabbit down the hole, so to speak.)

Let me tell you about dragons for a moment....don't laugh! you think they are all children's stories, but I've seen the real thing. beautiful, graceful, deadly...the perfect weapon for fighting a protracted aerial assault in atmosphere. They were loyal to a fault, tough as hell, and when they flew in formation it was perfection achieved. What's the difference? Well, different races...different aesthetics, for one. the beings who inhabited Asia preferred sinuous curves, and graceful lines than those of their nemesis across the continent. Asian dragons were known for their fluidity in battle, forming complex aerial patterns that were hard to beat in a dogfight. Their European counterparts were gene crafted to be stocky, hardier, more of a short term strike brawler than the long protracted aerial siege engines of the Asians. The Fey crafted thousands of their brawlers for every 10 of Yi's dragons....you think I am kidding? Kid, I've seen carnage across the skies the likes of beyond description when the Fey and the Yi had a squabble over a little patch of land that separated their regions from each other. Rivers burned, and mountains crumbled till all that remained was ash and ruin. I've seen millions dead, and smelled the stench of decay for thousands of years.

 Heh, why are there no remains of dragons in fossil record, you ask? Yeah, you'd think there would be something left, wouldn't you? You'd be dead wrong...see, the thing with a bio-weapon, is that once you start leaving stuff behind on the battlefield, your enemies could easily take that knowledge, and theoretically turn it against you, eventually. That's why they put genetic failsafe's in the code of those great beasts. Many simply burned to ash, or exploded into massive fireballs, or rotted away to nothing where they landed. Their DNA forever lost to the ravages of time. But it was something to see...way back then. Of course, after everyone left, there were a few holdout remnants of those once great beasts, making their way into mythology and folklore, and as with all things, passed away into dreams and legend....but they did exist here once upon a time. Who knows, somewhere out there beyond the stars, they may still be gliding on the thermals of distant worlds, doing what they were designed to do. I wish you could have seen them.

Look, I could tell you every interstellar race that ever came to this planet, but to make this story more concise, let's just say that every pantheon you have ever heard of, every religion you've ever seen, every story you've ever heard in your lifetime, all had a glimmer of truth buried deep within that has been altered with the passing years by human hearts telling the oldest of stories in the newest of ways. And that sliver of truth is this: they all came from the stars....and left their marks upon the human race.

Oh oh oh,....I almost forgot to tell you....the Great Experiment. Well, that's what I call it at any rate, but human mythology simply refers it by another word....Atlantis. Oh, don't roll you eyes as me young one....the great experiment came at great cost, and even greater sacrifice than you could ever imagine.

 Let me just say this....by the time of the great experiment, the wars that were raged across the cosmos were mostly over. I say mostly, because no matter how warm and fuzzy it makes you feel to think that everyone just one day dropped their armaments eventually, and shook hands, turning swords into plowshares, and singing KumBiYah around a campfire, the real history is just this....old animosities never die, they just get buried underneath diplomacy, bureaucracy, and routine, till both sides eventually forget what ever the hell they went to war for in the first place, moving on with their existences as best they can, while remaining largely distant to their neighbors in the great cosmic 'hood. Distance...makes the best fences, they always say, and so the other races tried to put as much distance between themselves as imaginatively possible, while maintaining a modicum of respectable decorum between themselves. Hence the great experiment.

 Now, you must understand that during this time, the human race had developed sufficiently, both mentally and socially, to start writing stuff down, and when ol' Plato recorded his story of Atlantis in Timaeus and Critias all those years ago, he just wasn't giving lip service to an analogy of state versus outside influences. He was 3rd partying events that actually happened, but in his own biased human way.

Atlantis was a jewel, filled with the remnants of all those interstellar races (humans included...think of us early humans as party crashers. We weren't exactly invited, but we showed up anyway, and well, they tolerated our presence without too much pretext....that's how we sort of wormed our way into their company...blind endearing curiosity, eagerness, helpfulness, all those traits that didn't annoy our interstellar visitors...so they basically let us hang and learn) whom had, as yet, to flee back to the stars or return home. It was a lovely place, filled with the kind of people you'd really love to party with given the chance, and everyone got along for the most part. There were comings and goings of a dozen or more races, as they zipped to and fro between their outposts, knowledge was exchanged freely....think of it as coin of the realm, with vast libraries cataloging the wealth of knowledge into great halls for everyone to share. There was peace and prosperity for a time, and it looked like humanity was on the fast track to join their interstellar neighbors soon, as the human race in Atlantis was like kids in a candy store, going respectfully buck wild, and soaking up the knowledge faster than a sponge, or like a kid whipping down pixie sticks with a jolt cola chaser. Damn, it was good to be alive in those days...there was peace, stability, prosperity for the human race. I could spend years perusing the stacks at the great library, and I tried to every chance I got. learning the histories of hundreds of worlds, seeing all the different technology up close and personal, meeting different races over drinks and nibbles, while dreaming of a bright and glorious future that lay before us. It was the closest thing to heaven for me, than I would ever see again.

That's when the troubles started. Seemed innocent enough at first, we were learning how to harness the atom, bending space/time to our whims, almost about to make that breakthough with fusion technology, when things went all tits up, and ended with a massive explosion and drowning beneath the waves.

Now, for the record, please don't hold humanity accountable for all that had transpired there, we were curious.....maybe a little too curious for our own good, and the other interstellar races were mostly amused at our endeavors, and for the most part helpful when they deemed it necessary to intervene on our behalf, lest we do something incredibly stupid, and accidentally crack the earth in twain from a misaligned core. But those damn Athenians! jealous bastards the lot of them...couldn't wait and play nice like the rest of humanity...nooooOOOOOoooo, they just had to be the ultimate buzzkill. *sigh* lets just say, a small party of them felt threatened at all we had accomplished there, going on about sovereignty and states rights, the rights of man, and how we Atlanteans were threatening their very existence, when all we wanted to do was party and learn, trying to be good little humans, and not step on the daffy Athenian buggerers like all the other star races had done before to humanity. When they raided the research centers and literally axed (i'm not kidding, they took an axe...a stupid bronze axe) and fractured a fusion core setting off a fatal chain reaction....the mantle moved...not rumbled, not a tremor, nor an earthquake....moved, as in Hebrew biblical Armageddon moved. Many of us made it out, but not enough for my tastes, so many lost...all that knowledge....poof....gone in one night. A lifetimes work gone in a blue/green flash because a bunch of stupid humans felt threatened. but that's life for you.....you make it to the top, only to have the proverbial rug yanked out from under you when you least expected it. The Athenians cheered, we wept, buried what remained of our dead, and moved on with our lives as best we could given the circumstances.

The party was over as far as the space faring races were concerned. and over the course of a couple of thousand years, they eventually left taking all their toys with them in the process....so much lost...

The saddest departure was of the Vatara, they championed the cause of humanity the most, as I saw the last of their beautiful vimanna exit the skies, I shed tears at their passing. The Yi's with their dragons, The Asir astride their giant war horses, their beautiful Valkyrie singing songs of old celestial battles, Yahweh and his amazing sciences. Even those beings of the central Americas....they may have been cruel, but some of them were kind, as with all the star races, and I like to think I was their friend, in some small measure, and hope they remember me fondly wherever they ended up in the cosmos. They were my friends and teachers, and I miss them....

The remnants of the Fey were the last to go. I spat on the ground, at the sight of their ships leaving the atmosphere, good riddance, they were the cruelest to humanity after Atlantis's fall. They blamed humanity for everything. The cruelest blow is when a beautiful friendship turns sour, and all that was once joyous and good turns to naught but ash in your mouth...To those Fey who were kind at the end, I beg forgiveness for the human race. We were still young then, and will make mistakes from time to time, hold not the future of our species in ill regards going forward...I cherish the fond memories we made together in the Mediterranean.

we tried again, you know...we humans....to uphold those ideals the others instilled into humanity all those centuries ago, in our own limited way of course. As each age passed, we tried again and again and again. The Babylonians, who worshiped an aerial sand skiff one of the races used to cross the desert, and left busted down outside a goat herders tent, I gave it a once over, and figured out it was a simple misalignment of the grav core due to sand fouling in the intake manifold. A couple of swift kicks to free the fouling, and the thing worked good as new...that is until that moment when that fool Marduk crashed landed it in the town square. *sigh* they thought he was a deity, and spun one hell of a yarn about the whole affair, I just shook my head and walked away.....once human get their minds wrapped around something it's almost impossible to change.

  The library at Alexandria, now that was a tragic loss....we tried so hard to reclaim a 10th of the knowledge we lost when Atlantis fell, but the human race had grown stubborn in our isolation, and everything burned....again. The wonders...monuments and structures built to honor those whom departed using ancient knowledge to craft....so much lost.

Ah, Egypt....that was a funny time....they actually thought they could build a giant radio transmitter to contact those beings out there who once occupied their lands, using geometric stone to build a transmitter...some nonsense about stellar alignment, harmonic resonance, and ridiculously huge funky radio tubes they fashioned out of silica glass, meteorite filaments,and powered by vinegar in a makeshift battery....I told them it would never work, as the power output necessary to accomplish such a task was well beyond their technological capabilities...still, had to give them points for trying (three more times, to be exact, each one crazier and bigger than the one before it).

The hanging gardens....I am sad for their passing, we tried to save every remnant of the other races unintended "gifts" to humanity. So many plants lost to time, there were even genuine cures there. The visitors genetically modified domestic plant species to meet their needs... medicines, foods the likes of which will never be seen again. At one time, whole fields of plants that served unique purposes, could be harvested, refined, turned into raw materials to fashion the most astounding things.......what...you think I got to be this old with a wave of a magic wand, and a few mumbo jumbo words? When I say cures, I mean CURES with a capital C. They made this one concoction with the roots, bark, and leaves of a beautiful heart shaped plant that was bitterly destroyed when the gardens fell. I remember at the beginning being offered a cup by the Yi's...they called it "elixir vitae" a battlefield medicine used to treat serious wounds. Humans would later go on to give it more fanciful nomenclatures as time progressed, but to most interstellar visitors, it was go go juice to keep the troops alive and fighting. It was bittersweet, burned with a pleasant warmth, and got you slightly high the more you consumed it (as Pink Floyd would later go on to sing...quite comfortably numb). I loved it, it kept me going through decades of research, and more than one close scrape or two....unfortunately, for all species involved, it had the unforeseen curious side effect of completely arresting the aging process in the human animal, saturating the cells in a chemical cocktail of cellular metabolic arresting clusterfeck that left the unfortunate human bereft of death, disease, and decay, and no longer craving normal biological sustenance. Fairy food, humans would later mythologize it, a cursed substance to be avoided lest your soul rot in damnation, and all that other superstitious nonsense. Oh, I could eat regular food if I wanted to, don't misunderstand, it's just after having consumed a substantial quantity over decades, the body no longer needed sustenance to maintain itself, just a little water now and then to keep things fresh, and everything moving in all the right ways. You may laugh, but all those stupid stories of ancient mummies were only slightly right, they weren't exactly cursed per say (depending on your point of view)....more like they were saturated with battle meds, and through their own choices decided to take a long nap in the hopes they would desiccate, wither, and disintegrate back into the dust from whence they were proverbially spawned. Tired souls who no longer wished to go on, but were too afraid to self immolate, and end it quickly. The dragon wars ended many of my fellow comrades, as they chose to go out with a blaze of glory instead of the long slow path of time. My partner and I...my partner....my.....

*pauses for a moment to wipe away an errant tear*

So....much.....lost......

Excuse me for a moment, will you? I know this seems like a fairy tale to you, the fanciful tall tale of an old dotering mad fool, but for me it only seems like yesterday. The memories fresh and vibrant like a well spring. I try to keep them in check, but sometimes my resolve wavers for a moment, and all the grief and joy, heartache and bliss, wistful longing, and humanist curiosity overwhelms me....forgive me. Just a moment longer, if you please....

*pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to massage the eons of grief from old and tired eyes. Removes an old threadbare handkerchief from a well worn pocket, and proceeds to loudly blow nose, with a slight sniffle at the end *

Thank you....Ahem, yes....now where were we? Oh? Aliens...Absolutely, they all departed in their own ways over time, leaving humanity to it's own devices. Where they are now, I haven't a clue. You see, that's the funny thing about mythology, no matter whose you happen to research on this small planet, they all share some similarity, a common thread of continuity that unites almost every one of them. Oh, the stories may change, and the characters a little different with each and every generation and in the telling, but the common denominator is still there all the same. That same warning over and over and over again....."we will return".....

You were invited here. That's the reason why we are now having this unique  conversation. Humanity is entering into a new phase of it's existence, and I need fresh eyes out there watching, waiting, detailing all the little things humanity is doing. We've become noisy....sending calling cards out into the cosmos practically screaming "HERE WE ARE!!! SUPRISE!!" and I'm still not to entirely sure that whomever is out there has forgotten us completely.

It's all the little things....strange sightings, odd random flyby's that cannot be rationally explained, sightings over south America, crop circles popping up randomly across the globe, all that tin foil crap humans scoff at, and dismiss as flights of fancy, or delusional paranoia. We tend to overlook such things as we go about oblivious to what's going on in the greater cosmos around us...but I suspect that we've slightly got the attention of things not of this world, and if we're not careful, humanity might just end up on the cosmic chopping block after all. We weren't meant to exist, yet here we are....and maybe some beings out there are still carrying a grudge after all this time. Better safe than tragically sorry, I always say... That's why you are here...

Out of the billions of souls on the planet, you and others like you, have shown that spark of human curiosity that goes beyond the pale of human normality. You dream, you seek, you create. All those things I seek in a recruit to assist me in the great work ahead. It was by no mere coincidence that you happen to have found my calling card. In the words of my dear departed friend Tolkien, "Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall..." you were chosen...as others were before you, and others still, after I am long since gone. You will become the new watchers on the wall, the patient, the dreamers, the do'ers, the makers.... you will forge new paths, and be called many new names in return. A new legacy, for a new generation of humans. They are coming...and you will be ready for the day they finally arrive.

So, it's at this juncture I offer you an opportunity....a doorway, if you so please, into a different life than the one you knew before. Oh, I could make some witty remark at this juncture about Orpheus, and be all cryptic with the whole red pill/blue pill spiel, wake up neo! bullshite, Or I could just simply offer you a drink, and a handshake.... the choice is ultimately up to you.

Before you on the table is a tome, handmade. you will find it's leaves blank. This is your book now. You will record your observations in as you see fit. Customize it as you see fit. There is no rhyme nor reason to it, just simply write....the knowledge will flow freely once you begin. It's not magic....just a higher form of technology than what you may be currently acquainted with, and will serve you well in the times ahead. I would recommend a lovely pen that would suit your needs adequately, but I surmise that you'll find something on your own in due time...

Now, to your right, on the small side table you will notice a petite glass. Within that glass is a liquid, and if you were paying attention this whole time, I surmise that you have a question to the legitimacy of that claim, as the source was long ago since lost. Let me assure you, that it is true....every word of it. The source is indeed gone. The caveat emptor being that I did manage to squirrel away a few bottles for a rainy day...I may be old, but never unwise....as I foresaw the future a millennia before you were born. I won't bore you with all the tedious details, but that brief stint on the British isles almost brought everything to wreck and ruin....I fancied myself a bit of a hand wizard in those days, foolish me. Suffice to say, wars have been fought over a single drop, and mighty civilizations toppled in their haste to acquire it. It is a dangerous gift, and should be respected as such. Don't look so apprehensive.... It's been diluted on purpose,  and you shall live a long and fulfilling life, full of the stuff of myths and legends, then you will eventually pass away, as all good things must finally come to bare when the time comes, but not before passing on what you have learned to the next watcher you choose. That is the gift I am offering. A brief pause of mortality with the freedom to explore all that was, is, and might shall be again.

*A brief pause. Fingers tapping on the armrests of the worn leather high back chair in contemplation. The pop and gentle crackle of the fire in the mantle place....a sense of self confirmation followed by an audible gulp and a smile*

Excellent! Welcome to the society *hearty handshake*, on the table to your left you will find your credentials, watch, badge, and communicator. The communicator doubles as a homing signal with GPS, all the current lovely technology and apps humans are so fond of, in case of trouble, alerting all nearby members of your location. I trust everything else is satisfactory for now, any further information can be gleaned from your tome as needed. Keep a weather eye on the horizon, and good luck.

*soft footsteps on the old carpet, as the newest explorer makes their way to the door, and a much bigger world than they knew before.*

Oh...I almost forgot...one last thing...above all else, have fun with it, and welcome to the Elohim...

  *the door closes with a soft click, leaving the tired ancient watcher alone again with his contemplation, waiting for the next soul willing to step into the unknown to cross the threshold...*

[wonderlandinrope]

Not All Monsters Part 2

Sam X Reader

Warnings: Domestic violence, abuse, self-hate, 

Summary: After meeting Aris the boys and Cas try to help but find themselves in a deeper hole than they had planned

Feedback helps.

Aris pushed passed the man with the coat her feet moving faster than she could think. Her body placed between Dan and Sam’s fists, eyes closed tight waiting for the impact but nothing came. Dan leaned against the hood of the car barely moving letting out a laugh. Aris looked at the shocked faces standing before her.

“You need to get out the way so my brother can finish teaching this guy how to be a decent human being.” The green eyes man held a flask sipping it casually.

“Are you ok?” Sam looked at the women standing before him shorter than he had originally guessed even with heels. “Did he hurt you at all?”

“I told you to leave. You're just going to piss him off more.” Aris turned to Dan who was on the verge of passing out.

“This man attacking you why are you defending him?” Cas Watched the unusually petite woman try to lift the man who had at least 70 pounds and 6 inches on her.

“This is none of your business.” biting her tongue She did her best to avoid letting out the tears. Embarrassment became red apples on her cheeks. “Please go.”

“Let us help you.” Sam took a step forward as Aris struggled to get Dan in the car.

“I said go!” She snapped. Her eyes burning.

Dean stepped forward taking Dan and helping ARis place him in the passenger's side. “Alright, we ’ll go. So long as you're sure you're good.”

Aris didn’t say a word just got into the car and drove off leaving the men behind confused. How badly she wanted to let Sam keep hitting Dan, how much she wanted to see him a pile on the ground unable to move, or speak. The same way he had left her so many times after a night like this. But to do so would have been her admitting that something was wrong, and that wasn’t a truth that she was ready to face.

Dan moaned in the passenger's seat, his face caked with blood and dirt, he only saw him in flashes under the street lights. He was not going to be happy in the morning. Arriving at their apartment she struggled to get him inside, dropping him twice, him letting out a groan each time. Thankful that they lived on the first floor. She finally got him to the bed where she spent the next few hours running back and forth trying to ice his face and clean him up. Hoping threw some miracle he wouldn’t be nearly as bad off as he looked now.

The pair of hunters and Angel drove in silence pondering what they had just seen. It was clear that the woman had been in trouble, that she was terrified of the man who had claimed to be her boyfriend, yet she still defended him against Sam. Cas leaning back looking out the window found it strange that humans could be so cruel especially to each other, especially to those they claimed to love.

“That girl must be under a spell, she didn’t seem to want to go with him.”  He proposed.

Sam shook his head. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just put up with him so long she’s used to his behavior and makes excuse for him.” He’d already missed saving one person tonight, it was killing him inside that he wouldn’t be able to save this one either.

“she should have asked for us to help or call her another ride.” The idea of someone staying with another person who would willingly do such vile things went against all instincts.

Looking in the mirror at Cas Dean frowned. “Sometimes people in situations like that, don't always realize how bad things really are” He nodded now understanding. Dean smiled pulling a wallet out of his pocket. “However it wouldn't hurt to check up on her.”

“When did you steal his wallet?” With Amusement same took the wallet, rifling through it to get his license. Also finding a picture of Aris, She looked different as if she had more life in her. 

“While else would I have helped that dick in the car.” Smirking they headed back to the Motel to look up any information they could find on Dan.

In the morning Aris awoke to Dan cursing in the mirror. At some point she must have fallen asleep, unable to keep that exhaustion at bay any longer. Now regretting it she lay on the floor waiting for shoulders tense for Dan to come back into the room, unable to decide if he would blame her for the way he looked or if by some miracle he would not remember what happened the night before. She could see his shoes standing before her not wanting look up but doing so anyway.

“What the hell! Look at my face! What happened?” One of his eyes was swollen shut, the other was red with a cut over his forehead bruises on his cheeks. “And my wallet! It's gone! You forget that too?”

Rolling over onto her back she shrugged. “I’m sorry, You were really drunk. I tried to get you in the house but you kept falling. The wallet must have fallen out at the bar on the way to the car.”

“And you didn’t think to look for it? It takes a special type of stupid to be you doesn’t it.” Dan marched off cursing under his breath slamming the doors as he went. “Are you coming or not?”

Jumping up she ran the bathroom brushed her teeth, threw on a clean outfit, and followed him out the door while putting her hair in a ponytail. Dan spent the whole ride to the bar cursing and insulting Aris, repeatedly telling her he would leave her there if they didn’t find his wallet. However, when it didn’t turn up instead took her wallet, pulling the cash, and debit card from it. Putting it in his own pockets, before they peeled out of the parking lot in the direction of a dinner.

At the dinner, Aris smiled politely at the waitress thanking her for the menus. Dan still grumbling about his face and the wallet. Not letting Aris think for a moment that she was going to before given without some serious repercussions. As they began to look at the menu Dan frowned, taking the menu from Aris.

“You should just get the egg whites and fruit salad. If you gain any more weight you're going to have a whole other problem on your hands.” He called the waitress over and ordered for both of them. The waitress giving a double take at Aris who was looking out the window, a somber look planted on her face. When she walked away Dan gave her a glare. “You need to smile more, you look depressed.”

Nodding Aris listened as Dan began to tell her a story she’d already heard a million times. But thought it better to amuse him to keep the piece. Looking behind him, two men entered the dinner, Sam and the shorter one with green eyes. Focusing quickly back on Dan she did her best to avoid eye contact. Unfortunately, when the waitress spotted them she had them sit in the booth right behind Dan.

Dean had his back to the two while Sam looked over keeping his eyes on two, While it was their plan to run into them, it turned out to be a good move. Dean could see the fear on Aris' face, poorly masked by a false smile, while Dean could hear the arrogance in Dan’s voice, as he went on telling Aris about this and that, as is she couldn’t understand the most basic aspects of life.  It was more difficult to hold back and be tactful given the situation before them. After all, this was not some monster that was lurking in the dark trying to avoid detection or just a nightmare to the world, this was the man who believed he was the king shit of turd island. Someone that thought he was desired by all. And worst of all someone who feared his retaliation if she made the wrong move.

When the waitress came with Aris and Dan’s order, he did his best at flirting with the obviously uncomfortable waitress. Before letting her go back to work, Aris said nothing only trying to remain subservient, and avoid looking at the two men in the other booth. When the waitress was out of ear shot Dan took the opportunity to scrolled Aris some more about the night before.

“Maybe if I wasn’t with such a lush she wouldn’t have dropped my wallet and I could leave that nice working woman a better tip.” Taking a bite of pancake then continuing. “We’ll go back tonight when they open and check to see if someone turned it. Tony’s usually has a good reputation.”

Hearing the name of the bar Dean say an opening and took it, turning to look at Dan. “Hey man, I don’t mean to listen in but did you say Tony’s Bar?”

Aris' heart jumped into her throat, choking on the water she was sipping. As she coughed Dan turned to look at the two men. “Yeah, the old lady lost my wallet there last night.” He took a double take at Sam but said nothing.

Desperate to keep him from recognizing the men Aris tried to get his attention back. “Babe we really don’t need to bother them with this.”

“Aris if I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it.” Both men were a little taken back by his ability to be so blatantly rude but played along.

Sam gave Aris a thin Smile. “It’s ok, we actually found a wallet there the other night. You said your name was Dan? I think that might have been on the license.”

Dan was now completely focused on the two men, not even acknowledging Aris, who sat on the verge of panic. Any moment he could remember the night before and if he did she would be the one in trouble.

“You men from around here?” Dan asked

“No just visiting,” Sam replied

“Well heck, what can I do to thank you for returning my wallet? If you boys are free tonight I’d love to have you over for a beer.” While Dan turned on the fake charm, Dean was already trying to find a way to set this guy up to go away for a long time.

“Sounds great.” Dean handed over the wallet pretending like he hadn’t already memorized the address.

That night Dan noticed as Aris grew quite, more so than usual. She had been trying to come up with an excuse to convince Dan to cancel. She thought about playing sick or telling Dan that she thought that maybe they could go out and she would stay home but every time she opened her mouth Dan would shoot her a look. At one point even telling her not to embarrass herself tonight. Dan was already fairly buzzed when the brothers showed up. Cas had some business to deal with in heaven so he wasn’t able to join them.

Knocking on the door, Dan could be heard yelling at Aris to get it. A moment later the door opened, Aris stood looking up at the two, a defeated look on her face like she’d been running a mental marathon all day. Wanting to give them a warning, to avoid anything that might trigger Dan, she instead found herself at the other end of a pair of eyes who seemed to be truly caring.

“Coming here was a mistake.” Was the only thing she could manage to say before turning inward.

“We wanted to make sure you were ok,” Sam whispered.

“Plus free beer.” Dean smiled trying to lighten the mood.

Opening her mouth Aris was then interrupted by Dan who slapped her ass, making her jump. “You offer our guests a beer yet?” She shook her head. “This girl. Still, haven't trained her right I guess. Go get a beer!”

Aris walked off trying to avoid looking at the men. She was used to Dan’s normal friend who says him treat her this way or strangers, but something about these two made her feel self-conscious. Especially when Sam looked at her like he pitied her. Aris’ face fell, completely defeated, a Sad look that made Sam wanted to pull her away from Dan, to protect her.

Dan invited them to the living room, where they talked about mostly him and his interests for a while until he seemed to remember that it's ok to ask people about themselves. “So what about you guys? What do you do?”

“We have a family business.” Dean smiled.

Aris appeared with two beers and a glass filled with vodka for Dan. “What do you think this is? Don’t be lazy! Go back and open their beers. I swear guys, sometimes a woman just don’t know how hard it is to work and support a family.”

Sam clenched his fist but said nothing. Aris who was used to reading the subtle micro-expressions on people's faces felt the tension rolling off the brothers. Going back to the kitchen she didn’t hear Sam also excuse himself from the conversation. Only when she felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to drop one of the beers did she notice him. The bottle hit the floor smashing, the beer went everywhere.

Going into panic mode Aris instantly began apologizing for everything. “I'm so sorry! I didn't see you! I didn't know. Sorry.” Grabbing paper towels trying to mop up the glass and beer Sam did his best to help.

“It's my fault I shouldn't have startled you.” Sam looked into Aris' eyes. She paused just for a moment, relaxing for a second as it dawned on her that he wasn't going to scream or curse at her. “Are you ok?”

While it was clear he wasn't asking about the beer, she gave no indication she thought otherwise. “I’ll clean it.”

Soaking up the last bit of beer, Aris grabbed a large piece of broken glass but as it slipped out of her hand she squeezed it tighter cutting into her palm. Sam noticed the blood dripping from her hand, reaching for her to help her but she pulled away from him, more afraid of his touch than of the pain that should have been echoing in her hand, yet felt incredibly numb. Her head was going a million miles a minute trying to think two steps ahead, of Dan, planning what he may do next that the pain barely registered.

“It’s just a cut. Go back to the living room before he comes looking for you.” Dropping the glass in the sink she washed out her hand, the gash in her palm looked like it may need stitches.

Ignoring her words he took her hand in his, and began to dab it with a clean cloth. “Do you want to go to the hospital? Does it hurt?”

She felt a calm run over her as his warm hand held her fridge skin. It was nice to feel someone touch her in a caring way, that wouldn’t end with her being used. Something that she hadn’t experienced in years.  His hazel eyes moving over her hand looking for any shards that may have been left. As she looked up at him it occurred to her that she needed to answer.

“No, it’s fine.” Withdrawing, she wrapped it in a towel then grabbed two beers opened them and walked Sam back to the living room.

Dan barely took notice, he was already drunk. Dean looked uncomfortable, and annoyed but still sat trying to keep Dan’s attention away from his brother who was checking on Aris. When they both walked back into the room Dean’s eyes widen at the blood-soaked. Refusing to look at him She gave him the beer, and walked away.

“Dan your girlfriend looks like she may need your help.” Dean pointed.

“She’s fine. That girl complains about every little thing!” He looked at Sam for a moment. “You look familiar, Did we meet before?” He pointed a drunken finger at Sam, then stood. Dean leaned forward. Sam stood his ground as the shorter man grew closer studying his face. “Yeah, I remember now. You hit on my Aris.”

Stumbling back to the chair he’d been sitting in the dug around for a moment then came up swinging a revolver wildly. Dean jumped up, Sam took a step back. The gun misfired into the ceiling, Dan jumped and ducked, then went back trying to aim at Sam. As the Dean held up his hands.

“Easy man we don’t want any trouble,” Sam stated as Dean inched his way toward Dan, who then turned the gun on him.

“Alright, we’re just going to go.” Dean said as he pushed his brother toward the door.

After hearing the shots, Aris appeared standing behind the brothers but in front of the door. There was a hole in the ceiling and Dan had the gun pointed at the men. Without thinking she stepped forward toward the gun, in a way believing that like so many times before if he saw her, or if she just agreed with him did as he said, he would calm down and put the gun away.

“Get outta my fuckin’ house you assholes!” Dan yelled.

It was only after he fired, and the room became quite that his eyes landed on the women standing in front of him. Dean and Sam looked down, knowing that a shot had been fired but unsure of where it had landed first checking themselves than elsewhere. Aris’ hands grew cold, her stomach burned as the warm red liquid flowed out from the gaping hole. Her knees grew weak, the floor came up to meet her, coughing, more blood poured out of her mouth as she gasped for air reaching for anything screaming internally, but unable to even whisper.