#emotions are difficult n sometimes those wires get crossed

[time-woods]

later:

teach your local invasive species what emotions are !

i feel like scarab is more into the main plotline of the medieval drama but prismo on the side writes these oneshots between the characters and theyre usually just exploring the characters emotions/ personalities in a free form way. anyways kiss ur local invasive species at dusk

[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark, pt. 3

Part 1, Part 2

a/n: I believe this is called a slow burn. Sorry to keep you waiting, it wasn’t intentional. I just keep getting pulled in to all the details and the thing grows. It’ll wrap up in the part after this one. Enjoy :) ~2.5k

i thought i’d ride all the same roads and skies for mercy’s sake, would you look at your life

No matter how drawn out, how difficult a case was, there was a routine to their return flights. Everyone boarded and retreated to their favorite place. Especially if the case ended poorly, people needed time to themselves to decompress. The jet wasn’t all that large but it had enough seats for them to spread out if they needed to. Creatures of habit, they often ended up picking the same spots each time, drawing peace from the standard arrangement. This trip however Morgan managed to sprain his ankle while chasing the unsub and Reid graciously gave him the couch where he would normally curl up so Morgan could elevate and ice his ankle. As an alternative he picked a seat next to the window and jumped when Hotch appeared next to him. They exchanged a quick look, Hotch silently checking that it was okay for him to take the neighboring seat. It was a new behavior, he never would have given sitting next to Spencer a second thought before. But now, there were too many exposed edges, too much risk of rogue electric currents to simply slip down beside each other like they might have in the past.

Spencer looked at him, eyes glazed with exhaustion. Confused, he didn’t recognize that Hotch’s hesitation was due to a question of his comfort. When it clicked he nodded quickly, waving his hand in manner that was meant to be an invitation but was a little too abrupt not to appear frantic. He hated how clearly his nerves showed sometimes and made an effort not to fidget as Hotch settled beside him. He tried to study Hotch’s face from the corner of his eye, jealous of the way he was always able to remain so impassive. He knew this wasn’t just a lack of feeling but rather a controlled effort, something that he put on each day same as his suits and gun holsters. Right now he was wishing he could read the other man’s thoughts. Hotch noticed him watching and quirked up the corner of his mouth in a small smile. Perplexed, Spencer sat back into the seat, wanting to pull his long legs up to his chest but there simply wasn’t the room for it. Instead he hugged his arms around his torso, letting the soft pressure try to calm his racing heart. He’d been on edge since that afternoon. Since he’d slipped.

*

The first time he had used the name Aaron it had felt strange, like a stone rolling around in his mouth. It had started not long after their late night calls had become a regular thing. He could tell it was something consequential but he couldn’t completely comprehend the dimensions of it. He was shy to call the other man by his first name. But Aaron had encouraged it, finding he enjoyed hearing this different shading of his name.

Too often in his life he’d heard that name inflected with anger, with disgust. He’d learned to hate it, to pull his shields in tighter whenever someone used it. Haley had made a difference, infusing his name with the love he had deserved and been denied. Over many years of careful diligence she had managed to loosen the strangled way his mind had tied his name to his failures, his ever present self-loathing. Now with her gone he’d had no problem rejoining the two. He’d never blame her but their parting words, the anger she’d been too fed up to hide had poured into her voice, into that which she’d worked so hard to rehabilitate. The last time he’d heard her say his name he knew he’d lost her and that it had been his own fault.

Since then he’d been only Hotch. He liked it that way. Hotch was strong and capable and didn’t let people down. Occasionally Dave would call him Aaron and he would press his mouth together and accept whatever advice he was about to receive. He didn’t particularly enjoy it but it was a good indicator of Dave’s state of mind so he let that be the relevant information and ignored the feelings it caused to swirl around, a vortex threatening to pull him under.

But when Spencer said it, at first with hesitation but increasingly more confidence, he felt an entirely new emotion. The syllables ran along the same nerve endings that lit up his spine and constricted his lungs whenever he looked at Spencer. It was a feeling that only grew as they became closer, as more of the barriers between them dissolved. When Spencer called him Aaron it sounded like hope.

Which was all well and good at midnight, on the phone or in the too bright lights of an empty diner. In that liminal world it was only natural for them to use softer words for one another. But they had continued to confine those developments to the spaces outside the office, outside the team. Neither would consider it a secret but it remained unspoken, perhaps because they were both too afraid of breaking the spell. They were careful to keep things as they had always been when they were in front of the others. Spencer remained Reid and Aaron was never anyone but Hotch.

Until earlier that afternoon, worn down by the action of the field, the adrenaline of the take down fading away, Reid had made a mistake. It had been small, likely no one had noticed, no one had even been paying attention when, needing the other man’s opinion on which file some forms belonged to, he had called to him.

“Hey, Aaron.”

He hadn’t realized what he’d done until he saw the line of Hotch’s shoulders become rigid beneath his suit jacket. Hotch stiffly turned away from Rossi and Morgan—they’d been reviewing the plan for getting everyone packed up and on the jet headed home as soon as possible. Without a word Hotch raised an eyebrow at Reid, who, mortified, had entirely forgotten what his question had been.

“Reid?” he prompted.

Spencer blinked quickly, looking at the papers in his hands. “Nevermind,” he muttered. When he glanced up again Hotch was still looking at him, his expression unreadable. It made Spencer nervous. Hotch turned and rejoined the conversation with the other two, settling an argument about who would drive who where before it became too heated. Spencer stayed quiet the rest of the time they were at the precinct. Stuck in his mind, he repeated the moment over and over, telling himself this was probably it. This was the moment where he broke things, the moment he showed he wasn’t able to handle himself the way he should. He became convinced that Hotch was mad at him, that he had somehow betrayed his confidence. He became convinced he would never be forgiven.

By the time he sat himself next to the window on the jet, staring out into the inky darkness, he was resigned to having lost. He expected, if he was brave enough to try, that the door they had opened between them would now be locked, that any calls would go unanswered. All because he had been a little careless, had inadvertently shared something they had wordlessly agreed was private. So he was startled when Hotch moved to sit next to him. With that small smile the man had all but short circuited the wires in Spencer’s brain. He didn’t know what to make of it, though history told him not to hope for too much. Everyone reached their limit with him, it was only a matter of time.

They were quiet through take off, as people settled into whatever distraction they could. Then, so quietly it barely crossed the threshold of his awareness, Hotch heard Spencer say something. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, only a little louder, afraid that even this would be unwelcome.

He leaned back and studied Spencer’s defeated expression, the way he was avoiding eye contact. He should have noticed before, should have known how an instant could get replayed by that perfect memory, morphing into something far more than it needed to be. Hoping he wasn’t too late to counteract the powerful force of self-doubt, he said, “It’s okay, Spencer.”

Spencer might have needed more reassurance; after all, he’d spent the last few hours telling himself that he’d irreparably fucked things up. But the way his name sounded coming out of Aaron’s mouth was all the assurance he needed. He sighed, relief tingling warmly through his fingertips. The tension that had kept his breaths shallow, his mind locked in a tight spiral, finally drained away and the disparaging thoughts became the words he’d been given, repeating gently like the waves on a lake shore. It’s ok, Spencer, it’s ok.

The air between them now calm, Hotch returned to his work. Spencer tried to make himself comfortable, shifting until he’d wedged himself satisfyingly into the corner of the seat and the wall. He craved the security of having the solid world pressing against him. The couch was ideal for this, the seats less so, but he made it work. Idly he watched Hotch working on paperwork. He was mesmerized by his hands; how he scratched words onto the page, sometimes signing quickly, hand moving sharply like the readout of a heart monitor. Before long Spencer’s eyelids grew heavy and he didn’t resist as he was pulled in by sleep.

Hotch wasn’t sure what time it was, not bothered enough to pull out his phone to check. He knew it was late and he was fairly confident they were somewhere over Texas. He rubbed his eyes then flipped through the remaining forms. They were all standard documentation, things he could probably do in his sleep. Which was good since he wasn’t all that focused. Like Spencer, his mind kept returning to that moment earlier. He didn’t want Spencer to feel bad, that certainly wouldn’t be fair. But it had drawn his attention to an issue he had been avoiding.

What was between them had been going on for months now. It hadn’t crossed into anything physical, anything overt. But he was an intelligent person, he knew where this was going. He’d allowed himself the briefest of thoughts, imagining what it might be like to touch another person again. He wanted to find out. But that meant they needed to decide how they wanted to handle this. He knew he didn’t want to live a secret life. Spencer didn’t belong lumped in with everything else he kept hidden. That would likely only lead somewhere disastrous. No, if they were going to do it, he wanted to go at it full measure. That thought warmed his heart a little, color rising to his cheeks. However, a pleasant feeling didn’t change the complexities. What would it mean for the team, for their families? It was so much easier not to involve anyone else.

As Hotch wrestled with his thoughts, Spencer’s hands started to twitch. He let out a small whimper as his face twisted, something in his dreams frightening him. Without thinking, Hotch reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing softly as he made quiet calming noises. Spencer froze before relaxing, his face becoming slack as the dream passed and left him with only the white noise of deep sleep. Hotch rubbed his thumb across the back of Spencer’s hand, the skin pale and smooth. It looked so small in his own hand, delicate, fragile even. He looked up only to meet Rossi’s gaze, questioning him from an opposing corner. He felt the heat return to his face but he didn’t let go, only shrugged and returned to his paperwork. If he could do it in his sleep he could do it with one hand just as well he supposed. He’d made his choice and he intended to hold on to it.

*

Dave caught up to him as they walked through the parking garage.

“Hey,” he hissed, placing a hand on Hotch’s shoulder to slow him down.

Hotch stopped abruptly. Anyone who didn’t know him as well as Dave did wouldn’t have realized how the quick reflexes, the instant change in trajectory was only a cover. How it was all his awareness traveling quickly through his muscles to stop the revealing flinch, the instinct to draw into himself and become a smaller target. Immobility was the only way to prevent that reaction from getting out. He’d perfected it over the years, one of dozens of ways he hid in plain sight. Now it seemed more imposing than anything else, to suddenly have the full, none too pleased attention of a six foot plus giant.

Normally Dave wouldn’t have done that, startled him with a touch from outside his field of vision. But Dave had questions and he wasn’t entirely pleased with having to ask these questions. Hotch turned his head to watch Dave come around and block his path to the elevators.

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” Hotch asked icily. He was tired and he just wanted to be home, away from people, away from questions. There was so much interaction when they went into the field. Never a moment to himself to think, to reset. He always had to be on when they were working a case, and though he was able to do it, once it was over all he could think of was shutting out the world completely.

“You know what I’m talking about, Aaron.”

Hotch flinched at his name, not expecting it to be used as a weapon, not prepared to have that moment thrown in his face so soon. Dave looked at him expectantly.  

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Dave was incredulous, trying to keep his volume down it came out sounding strangled.

Hotch glared at him for several seconds before relenting. He looked down at his feet, feeling fatigue pulling him into the ground.

“I do. Please, Dave.” He looked up and he was begging Rossi to understand, to see that this was something good, something special.

Rossi was skeptical but couldn’t deny he was moved by the look in Hotch’s eyes. He hadn’t looked so alive in a long time, like there was something he wanted, something he was willing to fight for. Eventually Rossi relented. Who was he to judge anyone for their choices in a partner?

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said gruffly but it was all an act. Honestly he’d accept anything that made Aaron happy, anything that kept him with them a little longer. This wasn’t hurting anyone. If those two idiots wanted go down this road, it was none of his business. He’d done his due diligence and Hotch could make his own decisions. He hoped for everyone’s sake it was worth it.

~Part 4~

[stayextrafrosty]

If I Never See You Again

Request: How do you feel about a one shot where the reader has been diagnosed with Cancer. While in the middle of a tour, the reader works closely with the boys and is struggling. They notice, but the reader won't talk. Finally, one night, scared and a little defeated she confides in Patrick and together they tell the other guys?

Words: 2665

Warning: light angst and comfort

My apologies if things aren’t totally accurate. This will also be going under my Patrick listing on my masterlist but most of what I was thinking when writing is that it’s platonic.

Masterlist // Read On AO3

-

Sunlight streamed through the blinds on the bus. Damn thing. Sometimes it really was a pain in the ass to travel all the time. I sat up slowly and reached up to feel the side of my breast. I frowned at the small lump that had appeared a few months ago.

Breast cancer ran in my family but it’s still something that you never think will happen to you. I had been going to the doctor to hear treatment options but anything short of cutting it off probably wouldn’t work.

Despite that, I was supposed to start chemo once I got home from this road trip. A road trip involving thousands of screaming fans for one of the biggest alternative bands of the past two decades.

They didn’t know of course. If they did, they probably wouldn’t have let me come with them. But being diagnosed with a disease that might kill you kind of puts things into perspective. I don’t want to spend all my time in hospital beds with people poking at me. Was that so wrong?

I picked up my phone to check the time. Shit. I was late for setup. I rushed to put on real clothes. I only glanced in the mirror and determined that my hair was fine. Just pull it back. I grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it over my head as I hurried over to the venue. I knocked on the door, hoping they wouldn’t fire me. Patrick stood there with an eyebrow raised and hiding a laugh.

“Shut up. I look like shit. I know.” He stepped to the side and chuckled.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” he said, trailing off.

“Morning princess!” Pete stood just inside, waiting on Patrick. “Someone just woke up I see?” I glared at him. I was lucky they were here and not the director.

“Yea. Thanks for opening the door but I gotta run. I’m probably already in trouble.” They nodded and waved as I rushed off. My left breast ached slightly but nothing too serious. At least I hoped not. There probably wasn’t a specialist office nearby.

I snuck into the storage where we moved everything when we got here late last night. There were still a few power sets left for me to grab. I rolled a cart over and started lifting them onto the bed.

“If you had been here on time, you would know that those got broken in transport yesterday.” I jumped at the director’s voice. I spun to face him.

“I’m really very sorry. Is there something else you want me to do?” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back at me.

I hated that look. One of pity. Of course, he knew what I had been diagnosed with. I just didn’t want to be viewed as useless and then let go. That wasn’t legal I guess but that doesn’t stop it from happening.

“As much as I want to help you, you can’t be late. They’re setting up some wiring on the catwalk. Go there.” I nodded and rushed off. So, this was the kind of day it was going to be…

-

“Hey! Get out of the way! Are you crazy, why are you standing there,” Someone yelled. It came from main stage where they were moving around some of the larger speakers. They could easily kill someone if dropped.

“Speaking of, why don’t you pay attention, Y/N?” I looked back at what I was doing and tugged on some of the wires. It came loose pretty quickly. Whoever tied this clearly didn’t know what they were doing.

“This one needs to be refastened! It’s way loose,” I called back to the leader of the group. He groaned in frustration and walked off to find the person tying off the wire.

I reached under my arm and felt the lump again. I flinched at the tenderness. Why today? Why not an off day when I can just sit in the bus?

“Hey, you’ve been real spacy today. What’s goin on in that head,” a guy from the crew asked. What was his name again?

“Uh, nothing. I’m fine.” He raised an eyebrow but dropped the subject. I looked over to the leader and security was escorting a guy who I assumed was tying the wire out of the venue. It happened sometimes. Someone isn’t qualified, but they get hired anyway and a few days later, they get fired for not doing things right.

“Sometimes I think they need to fire the person doing the hiring,” the guy continued.

“No kidding,” I agreed. A beat passed before I returned to checking wires.

“Hey so… would you want to, like, go out sometime?” I didn’t fully hear him at first. I had spaced out, wondering when I could hang out with the guys again. They always made me feel better on my off days. “Y/N?” I shook myself out of my trance and turned toward the guy. Still couldn’t remember his name.

“Sorry, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now. But I’m flattered.” I went to walk away but of course he wasn’t going to make it that easy.

“Why though? What’s going on that’s so important?” I sighed heavily.

“It’s not really any of your business. I’m not interested.” I crossed my arms and glared. He looked like he was going to say something else, but the leader called him over. Apparently, his name was Jake. Not that it really mattered.

-

The rest of the day went without much problem. Except for the muscle right under my arm aching periodically. I reached to touch the spot lightly again, hoping that would help. No such luck but I needed to try.

“Hey, where you wandering off to?” I turned toward the voice. Patrick stood with his hands in his pockets. I smiled and shrugged.

“No where really. Just around. Not like there’s much else to do unless you all need something changed in setup.” He nodded and seemed to notice my hand holding my side.

“You alright?” I immediately stood up a bit straighter.

“Yea no problem!” He seemed skeptical. Please just drop it like the other guy…

“If you have something you need to talk about, don’t be afraid to come to me,” he said sweetly. I smiled at him.

“Thank you, Patrick. But I’m ok, I promise.”

“If you insist. Well, then come hang out with me and the guys for a bit,” he said. I nodded and followed him excitedly. Or I pretended to be. The annoying little lump was bothering me. But they didn’t need to know all the little problems in my life.

-

It just got worse over the next couple days. Lifting things was becoming more difficult than normal. I couldn’t touch my breast without pain. I had to stop hanging out with the guys because I was so tired. At this point I just wanted the tour to be over so I could get this damn thing cut off.

A knock came from the bus door. Me and the couple other girls in the bus shared a look. Jess stood and moved to see who it was. Her eyes widened as she fiddled with her hair. What in the world? She opened the door and smiled at whoever was on the other side.

“Hi, Patrick! What do we owe the pleasure?” My eyes darted to the door. Why was he here?

“So sorry, for the intrusion. I’m actually looking for Y/N. She here?” Jess cleared her throat and moved out of the way.

“Uh, yea. Come on in.” I blushed and stood quickly. I tried to not publicize my friendship with the band. Didn’t need to make enemies. He only stood in the doorway for a moment before I tried to hurry him out.

“I’m here, but why don’t we talk outside, I could use some fresh air anyway.” He seemed confused at first but didn’t fight me as I pulled him out of the bus. We took a few steps away on the off chance the girls opened a window to try and eavesdrop.

“Sorry to force you out like that, I just don’t want everyone knowing that I’m friends with you guys. Just to make my life easier.” He nodded in understanding.

“That’s fine. I’m more concerned about why you just up and disappeared. We’ve missed you the last couple days.” I ran a hand through my hair.

“Yea, sorry. Just a lot going on. It’s been busy. You know a people keep getting fired so we all have to pick up the slack,” I said, shrugging.

“But, see I feel like there’s more to it than that. You haven’t been yourself.” I rolled my eyes and tried to laugh it off. The stretching made my side hurt, making me flinch. “Please talk to me if it’s something serious.” I unconsciously reached for the lump. I realized and tried to play it of as though I was scratching my shoulder.

“I know how easily you worry. And I promised I would tell you if something was wrong. Do you trust me?” Patrick thought for a moment and nodded. I sighed in relief.

“I do. But not right now. You’re keeping something. I don’t like pushing for information if you don’t want to give it but I and the rest of the band want to help you.”

I shook my head and bit my lip. They didn’t need this. It was only going to be hard for a little bit. I would get through this by myself. I felt a tear roll down my face. Damn emotions.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to cry… Y/N?” I walked over and hugged him. Even if he didn’t know about the cancer, he could still give amazing hugs. “Ok. I won’t force anything. But please. We can help you,” he continued.

“It’s cancer,” I mumbled into his chest. He pet my head slowly.

“What was that,” he asked?

“Breast cancer. That’s what’s wrong with me,” I said, pushing away from him and wiping my eyes. His widened a bit before he removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

“Wow. Um, I wasn’t expecting that.” I smiled sadly at him.

“Yea. You can’t exactly help with something like this.” He shook his head and pulled me back in for a hug.

“No. I can help with this. I can help with payments. I can be here for you.” I tried to protest but he just kept going. “Speaking of treatment, why are you here and not getting help? You should be getting treatments, not lifting a bunch of speakers,” he said, looking genuinely worried.

“I just… don’t want my life to stop because of this. If I die, I want to have really lived.” He stared at me and sighed.

“I get it. Sort of… But I don’t agree with the way you’re talking. You’re talking like your life is over and it’s not. You are going to get better,” he said confidently. I wanted to believe him. It was easier to believe him. But if he was wrong…

“Patrick…” He held up a hand.

“I don’t want to hear the negativity right now. You should tell the other guys too. They’re worried sick.” I shook my head.

“No. I feel bad just telling you. I don’t want all of you to think I’m weak. You have other things to deal with.” Patrick laughed without humor.

“If you think this is something they don’t want to know about then you’ve got a real awakening to go through. They care about you. They want to help. And telling people about it might not fix the problem, but it’ll help relieve some stress of keeping it all locked away.” I thought for a moment. Maybe he was right…

“I’m just so scared. I don’t want to die. And I don’t want to hurt people if things don’t go well. Limit the damage.” More tears spilled out of my eyes. This was the exact opposite of limiting the damage. I was pulling people into it.

“It’s understandable that you’re scared. But that’s ok because we will not leave you alone. We want to support you and see you get better. Besides, it’d be a shame if you never came on tour with us again.” I laughed a little. He always knew what to say. It had to be a gift of his.

“Ok… but promise me something,” I said slowly. He smiled warmly at me.

“I will be with you the whole time. I won’t leave you alone.” I nodded, and he took my hand, pulling me towards their bus.

-

The guys all jumped up when I stepped in behind Patrick. Pete and Andy hugged me with Joe offering a pat on the back. I was a bit surprised. I know we were friends and I was about to share the biggest problem in my life with them but for some reason I thought this friendship would only last the tour. It seemed I was wrong. That happened a lot these days.

“Welcome back dude. I told you guys Trick would get her back here,” Joe said. I smiled and rolled my eyes. My guess was that Pete was the original volunteer. That would have been a sight for the girls on my bus.

“Yea yea, we all know that Patrick is the one who’s good at talking to people,” Pete said. I think Patrick would argue differently but I agreed with him. Patrick nudged me forward a bit while the other three were bantering.

“Um… Guys?” The banter continued. I hated this. This wasn’t a good idea. Look how much fun they’re having. Did I want to ruin that?

That’s when Patrick grabbed my hand. I looked over to him and that smile that lit up his face put me at ease. He was still here. And they wouldn’t leave me either.

“Hey,” I called. The three boys stopped and looked at me, question resting on their faces.

“What’s up Y/N,” Andy asked? Another squeeze from Patrick.

“I just want to tell you guys something.” They shared a look between each other.

“Well shoot,” Pete said. I took a deep breath, bracing myself if this somehow went wrong.

“I uh… I’m sorry, first of all… about kind of going AWOL. It’s just… I’ve been dealing with some medical stuff. And I want to tell you guys. You deserve to know, as my friends,” I said. They seemed worried but none of them spoke.

“I have breast cancer. It’s still early so not too much danger but I’m still scared. I wanted this to be the last thing I did in case I… in case I never leave the hospital. In case I don’t make it. I just wanted to live without people pitying me. And if I never see you again after this…”

“Stop. Don’t say that. No goodbyes. Only, ‘see you later.’” I looked over at Pete in surprise. He smiled at me. “We are here for you. We can help with whatever you need. You don’t need to suffer alone.” Andy and Joe both nodded in agreement. I felt my eyes fill with tears again. God, what was wrong with me? I feel like I’ve been crying all day.

“We’re your friends. And friends help each other,” Andy added.

Patrick wrapped an arm around my shaking shoulders. I didn’t realize what good friends I had made with them. They were so reliable. Why didn’t I trust them with this again? They all stood around me and crushed me in a group hug. I laughed through my tears.

“You don’t have to worry about anything except getting better. And I promise you will,” Patrick said again. I did believe him. The doctor did tell me that positive thoughts would help.

“Thank you. All of you.”

[thewildheroine]

Fly Away |Twenty-Six|

Warnings: Injury

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I only have like... ten more followers until I hit 500 and I don’t know how? Thank you for liking and enjoying me!!! I love all of you guys and if you want me to do anything just let me know!🖤🖤🖤

|Masterlist|

|Part Twenty-Four|  |Part Twenty-Five|  |Part Twenty-Seven|

____________

I wake to pain, like the past five mornings. Peter’s arms wrap themselves around my waist, his fingers still drawing lines along my hip bone. His short nails lightly scrape my skin as they move upwards. My gaze lingers on his messy hair before looking up at the ceiling. There are little holes drilled by water in the plaster. It must be old because it hasn’t rained in days. Nor has it snowed. The sun and moon haven’t gone round and round, chasing each other in the sky like they should. When I look out the window, all I see is a sky of kaleidoscopic light and color crashing into each other. No more moons or suns, no more snow or rain, no more gleaming blue skies or even people walking down the sidewalk. Only neons that could burn a person’s retina if they look too long.

I slide out of bed carefully as to not wake up Peter. He groans behind me before going to find something else to curl his arms around. Grinning, I pull on the tearing sweater I left on the nightstand the night before along with the sling I choose to ignore most days and step out of our room.

While it may be dark there is still enough light coming from outside to allow me to amble down the long hall. I do my best to ignore the neon pink and green orbs that drift across the wall next to me. They curve around the corners, stalking me. Without realizing it I’ve stopped. The neon reflections fall across my placid expression, hovering a moment before carrying on, heading the instructions of whatever has created them.

Down the hall, I can hear footsteps. Too far apart and quiet to be Peter’s. I mentally prepare myself for a conversation with Strange. All week most of our conversations have been simple niceties. "Hey" exchanged between us every time we see each other in the hall, him requesting that I take my medicine, me resigning into myself and swallowing them. There may be the occasional, "how are you feeling". Sometimes a little sprinkle of an idea for saving our friends. Never anything more.

After I finally realized what I heard in his voice that day I’ve had no desire to talk to him. Pride, adoration, kindness. Real, true, sincere feelings that I very vaguely remember hearing about six years ago during the most intensive part of my training. It’s how my dad should’ve been every day.

“You should be sleeping,” Strange informs like it’s a fact I haven’t already realized. That's the tone I prefer most of all. Blatant and to the point like a doctor“What woke you up?” This time I hear it in his voice. The distant memory.

I snicker. “A nightmare,” I mumble, my eyes still focusing on the distorted celestial bodies. How much longer, I think to myself, before that’s Earth?

“Have you been getting a lot of those lately?” he wonders. My jaw clenches, frustration boiling within me all the sudden like a dangerous parasite we may have discussed in class months ago. I shake my head to try and dispel it, but the emotion still lingers.

“What does it matter?” I reply. “So what if I am? Are you going to heat up some milk and read a children’s book like Maxims Primer to me?” When I take a glance at Stephan he seems more taken aback by the comment than annoyed. He stares at me for a moment and then out of the window.

“Last time I checked,” he remarks, “Maxim's Primer is not a kid’s book.”

“It was for me,” I tell him, my lips pressed into a tight lie. “So was Astronomia Nova, Key of Solomon, Codex Imperium…. Almost anything you thought was a difficult read when you got to Kamir Taj.” Strange chuckles to himself, somehow finding more humor in my comment rather than insult. He gives me another sidelong glance.

“Do you get off on acting facetiously when it comes to your own problems?” he asks. I shrug back and stare out at the bright sky. A little horror spreads through me as I watch a giant sphere smash into what little remains of the Earth already, leaving a dark stain in its wake. The world shakes a little and I place my sore hand against the window sill to balance myself.

“I do when there are bigger things than my mental stability at stake,” I answer once the Earth stops its weeping.

“Look, I’m only worried the nightmares have to do with the time stone. That's all.” Although it’s a valid reason I still find myself rolling my eyes at his claim.

“You don’t need to worry. It’s not your place to worry.”

“Actually,” Stephen begins, his voice turning stern, “it is my place as your mentor and the person who has promised to protect you.”

“And you’ve done such a good job at that,” I spew my words at him while turning towards Strange, aggression etched into the movement. Now I find that he is completely expressionless; whatever he may be feeling hidden far, far away in his mind so that I can’t see it while he eyes something outside. “Strange, back off. I don’t need your pestering and I don’t need you acting like my-”

Before, I can finish something rolls up my throat. At first, I only gag on the peculiar thing, the taste of metallic mixed with something unknown coiling through my taste buds. When I look up Strange is staring out the window sill, not realizing quite yet what’s happening.  I lurch forward abruptly, the thing desperate to leave.

Then the air starts leaving my lungs and I go to grab my throat. Next to me, Stephen is saying something but everything becomes a blur. Black spots start to collect over my vision, threatening me with unconsciousness that could lead to something even worse.

But before that can happen I choke up what was clogging my windpipe and spit it into my hand. I feel the weightlessness of the object as I catch my breath. My mind then focuses on the little pool of hot, wet stuff lying in the center of my palm, waiting for me to realize what it is.

Through the haze I see the bright red smoke spilling past my fingers. It seemingly appears to be coming from the dark circle of crimson I caught.

“Strange?” I ask almost silently. My breath turns to mist in the randomly freezing air. When I look up I find that I’m not even in the Sanctum Sanctorum anymore. I’ve been cast onto the cold New York streets. I glance around, fear and curiosity working harmoniously inside of my mind.

All the lights, whether they’re in buildings or lining the streets, have changed to an eerie shade of purple that leaves a stain in my eyelids. Above sphere’s swarm what remains of the Earth like hungry maggots. In the distances I can see one neon pink orb smash into a series of buildings, sending dust and debris flying. I expect there to be at least one scream of terror. One final act of fear before the end comes. There is no cry though and if anyone could’ve been in those buildings they’re already gone by now, laying among the rubble and acting as a martyr to one of the few people left to care.

I gulp down the guilt that collects in my throat like a thick stone I can barely breathe through and look down the opposite end of the street. Empty plastic bags drift around on an invisible breeze. Puddles sit in potholes waiting, the sun never shining down to take them away. Buildings lining the street having symbols of the dark dimension written all over them in angry red paint. Dried droplets drip down the rough bricks, every crevice catching more of the neon stuff to make the symbol seem even more monstrous.

Every nerve in my body stings as I stumble forward, eyeing signs along the way. A conspicuous humming murmurs in my mind and I somehow manage to capture the emotion that thrives within it. Horror. It shakes through my core as I pass by the front door of what I assume is a theater because of the different deteriorating show posters plastered to it.

Out of instinct, I let two blue shields appear in my hands in case I’m in more danger than one would expect. My magic clings to me helplessly. I pray that it's just nervous for some non-existent reason but as I turn into what I know as Time Square, I realize that there is an explanation for the anxiety both me and my abilities feel.

The clump in my throat grows again as I gape at the area in front of me. Above is a halo of fiercely glowing planets I hadn’t noticed before circling the entire area and acting as sentries to whatever may lay below. Like everywhere else, the lights around me have turned purple. The ones here are far more terrifying though because of the threatening size of each glowing sign. They gaze down at me like wide, gaping eyes. Something growls inside of me again, only this time I realize that it isn’t my magic, but the stone trying to tell me to run away. Although I hear the warning, something draws me closer and closer.

My insides ache as I approach the bright purple steps at the end of Times Square. Giant signs have toppled over and onto the pavement below, digging into the cement and ripping it to shreds. Their wires revealed and somehow still sparking with electricity. I plod over a path painted in bright blue that the Dark Dimension must've chipped and clawed at during its take over. The gates that once kept people away from the bright, destination-less steps have been blown to the sides as if in preparation for my arrival.

I cross the metal grates that power the entire square and mount the first step. Then the second and the third and so on. The time stone writhes inside of my body, tirelessly trying to tell me to get away while I can. But I hear a call. A low purr that drags me up these tainted steps so that I can reach the top. The time stone keeps trying though. It grabs at my legs and tries to hold them down, pushes at my chest to keep me back, digs sharp knives into my abdomen to slow the steps I make. My magic slams it into submission though and while it still bites and claws for release I’m able to take control.

“Welcome,” a voice says. It’s rough and despicably low. A voice that I’ve heard in my nightmares a million times before. Never like this though. Never so real.

All of the sudden a flume of smoke bursts past my face. I’m forced to shield my eyes from the stinging substances that surrounds me. The time stone has recoiled inside of me knowingly, and now I finally have a true opportunity to fear for what is coming.

As the black smoke begins thinning I open my eyes. The very little material that made it past my lips is coughed up from my lungs hoarsely, stinging the raw skin on it’s way out. My sling strains against my shoulder while I raise my head to look at whatever summoned the smoke.

Automatically, I’m met with a bright purple eye five times large than my body that reflects the light all around New York and possibly the world. If I didn’t know any better I would say I was looking into a whole other galaxy or a glowing nebula. But I do know better.

“I’ve waited so long to meet my prophet,” Dormammu, informs, his voice vibrating the whole earth. I wish I could hiss back at him. Never in my whole life have I wanted to fight as much as I do now, yet not been able to. This is the face of my maker. A face that is a constant state of rippling with dark, tar-like water. The edges of what I think is his body, fade into smoke and fire, making it hard for me to tell where he begins and ends. Engraved into the lines of his body is molten lava that spurts and roars viciously.

He shrinks down to a much more comprehensible size and what I believe is a smile spreads across his face. I fear that it may be from realizing I can’t manage a single word to voice back to him.

“So powerful,” he remarks lowly, still big enough to intimidate me with his size but small enough that I can see that his body does not expanse this whole dimension. He looks down at me, clearly amused as he takes a seat on a small building lobby. Dormammu leans back, the skyscraper behind him aching sadly against his weight.

“So I’ve heard,” I finally utter, much to my relief. Unlike usual, I don’t have the same bite in my voice I use on people like Dormammu. It’s weak and small. A voice I had to memorize from a young age when addressing my father.

“I  can only imagine the power you would’ve had by now,” he hisses, “if that sorry excuse for a sorcerer hadn’t taken you up as an apprentice.” I scowl now, insulted by his blatancy.

“You mean the sorcerer who trapped you in a time loop… in your own realm?” I wonder, gaining back a little sarcasm with each word. Suddenly, a rush of smoke blows right past my body. I flinch at the act, my arms going up to protect my face again. When I peek past my fingers I see the enlarged face of Dormammu glaring right into me, beating through every wall I have mercilessly until I feel like a crumpled heap on the bright steps.

“And where is your sorcerer now!” he shouts, anger and disbelief etched into every syllable. Once the smoke disappears from sight I step towards the ledge though, making sure my face in only a mere foot from his.

While the same question has crossed my mind a million times over these last five days I am sure of who my loyalty lies with. Besides, I know the answer. Strange trapped Dormammu in a time loop and made a bargain. The deal was that Dormammu leaves Earth and Strange leaves the Dark Dimension, taking time with him. The dark entity in front of me came back anyways though, and this time, with an intricate and unstoppable plan that has been in the works probably longer than I’ve been alive.

“Not only is Doctor Strange a better sorcerer and mentor,” I snap back, “but a better soul than you’ll ever be.” Much to my surprise satisfaction lights up Dormammu’s features and he shrinks downwards again, seeming smug like it was always his intention to make me argue with him. I wait patiently for him to speak, half expecting my demise or a severely long speech.

“Your father and I had a proposition,” he comments abruptly. “You, Y/N, are the only person who can fulfill it now.” I stare at him for a long minute, my mind pulsing from memory to memory, recalling all mentions of special deals. My mind comes to a few ancient conversations, murmurings of “having to keep my end”, but the most memorable is the most recent and disgusting.

“And there’s still a deal he must fulfill with me.”

“What did you do? What the hell kind of deal did you make?”

“The happy kind.”

“What,” I mumble, “is the deal?” Dormammu smiles and leans forward, his distorted arms resting on his knees.

“He asked that I give him his family for the rest of eternity. A good, safe, peaceful eternity,” he answers. The color drains from my face as I imagine an entire eternity living with that man with no hope of escape. I find myself needing to grab onto the metal railing so I don’t fall over. My vision has turned red from anger and the blurring smoke suddenly drifting from my hands.

“And his end of the bargain?” My end of the bargain.

“He will do my bidding until the time comes in which there is nothing more to ask,” he steps down from his seat which has been turned into a burning mound. With him rises a cloud of pitch black smoke that makes my stomach turn over. “As for you,” he continues, “you will hand over the time stone and your magic to me, so that I may put it to proper use.”

I finally understand why the time stone didn’t want to come here. It knew that Dormammu wanted it. Wanted my magic and I didn’t listen. I step backward, my hand following the railing so I don’t trip. My heart palpitates in my chest. My palms sweat. My magic clings to my soul in a desperate attempt to keep away from the demon in front of us.

“No,” I tell him. “I will never give it up. Not for him. Not for that monster.” While saying it I remember how I would've so willingly given up my magic for the man I used to call father six years ago. I remember how much I wanted to please him. To sense the same pride in his tone that I hear in Stephan’s. Now I’m confident, certain that I would let him die before giving up the most important part of me.

Dormammu tilts his head to the side. “Then for your mother?” he wonders. My heart skips a beat as I look up at him curiously. Every thought in my mind disagrees with Dormammu's statement, but I see the sincerity in his purple eyes and I can’t help but believe him.

But would I give everything up for a mother I never met? Could I ever be so selfish as to let everyone die and give up my one chance to save the Earth for a woman who died before we could even say hello? Before I could look into her eyes and see what good derived from there? Do I want that chance?

“My answer,” I say, certainty filling my voice as I dismount the final step, “is still no.” Dormammu’s grin still remains though.

“Then I will have to change that answer then,” I furrow my brows and frown, “won’t I?”

Although I already have an idea of what he is saying I still ask, “What the hell is that supposed to mean.” The giant vortex of smoke swirls above me, sucking in stray ash and debris. All the sudden a bolt of lightning slams into the spot on the stairs where I was standing only minutes ago.

“I will be seeing you soon,” he tells me before evaporating into thin air.

“Wait!” I shout back. “What are going to do?” The question never reaches him though, and if it does it is forgotten as the cloud of black smoke drops on me.

I scream as it circles me. Little pieces of metal strike my skin. A piece of debri slams right into my collarbone, tearing a choked cry from my lips. Before I know tears are leaking from my ash filled eyes as I try my best to escape the tornado. The air is sucked up though and I fall to my knees weakly, already remembering the red mound that was in my hand earlier that predicted what was to come from this. I can imagine it. Ash, wood, and metal coating my throat as I try to claw it all out and breath before it's too late and all that will fill my throat is my own blood.

I gasp for something to calm my spasming lungs but all I come up with is more smoke. I cough and cry as unconsciousness sweeps me up and drops me hard on warm, wooden floors. Air finally enters my body. I heave on the ground, ignoring the sting in my shoulder as it presses into the firm, coaxing ground. My fingers curl into the thick strings sticking out of the carpet. From the little bits of images, I make out I can tell that I’m back in the sanctuary of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

I sigh, somewhat relieved, and stand up. As I’m walking towards the hallway where I was last with Strange I realize that I must not have been gone long if the majority of the lights are still off and no one is searching for me yet. I turn the corner and see my mentor still standing by the window. A glimmering red drifts across his face before fading into the darkness.

Stephen randomly turns towards me and I’m thankful for the lack of light above that keeps my wet cheeks from showing. His glare is harsh and from here I can tell that he is radiating far more annoyance than usual.

“Really, Y/N?” he lectures. “Doing a matter transfer during the middle of a conversation?” I say nothing. Strange rolls his eyes and begins stomping towards the end of the hall, not intending to stop and talk to me more. “What? You’re not gonna snap right back? You had plenty to say-” Once he is about a yard his sentence trails off. I can see his eyes tracing the tiny cuts and patches of ash and the tears on my cheeks that have mixed with both.

“I met him,” I announce in an unnaturally calm voice. “I met Dormammu.” Right away Stephen grabs my uninjured shoulder and pulls me into the light with him. He sits me on the sofa and looks over my cuts again, this time taking ten extra seconds for each little bloody mark.

“Is that why you-” I nod before he even finishes. Stephen shakes his head in dismay. “I should’ve realized. You would never leave without finishing an argument,” he remarks, intending for the last statement to exit a joke rather than judgment against himself. I shake my head, knowing full well that I should dispute it. That I should tell him that it’s not his fault. No one but Dormammu and my father is to blame for this. I’m just too tired to say it all. Instead, I try telling him by putting a hand on his scarred one. He looks up at me while I shake my head.

“I know what he wants,” I mumble sleepily. Stephen listens to me attentively, preparing himself for anything right now. “Why he created me.” Down the hall I can hear the floorboards creak under what must be Peter’s weight.

“What is it Y/N?” Stephen draws his attention back to him. My eyes remain on the hallway entrance for a second more and then I look at Strange, looking far more broken down than I would hope.

“Me, my magic, the stone. He wants to take everything.” I answer. A shadow crosses Stephen’s face. “Dormammu sowed the seed and now,” I take a pause, knowing that  has just entered the sitting room, “he’s finally ready to reap the harvest.”

____________

A/N: Oof. Sorry this took so long.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Comment below or send me an ask if you would like to be tagged.🖤🖤🖤

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[namjoonchronicles]

Handcuffs & Pretty Boys - [EXO] Chanyeol Detective!Au #30 [Final]

[Part 29]

[A/N] Go get it boi.

Do you ever come across an emotion of ultimate acceptance? It's expensive and rare. When you kiss someone and they really took you in; that's how you made Chanyeol feel, accepted. Now Chanyeol didn't fall for you as soon as he saw you. But you gave him a vibe he had never considered real. You didn't kiss him to impress. Chanyeol carries himself with a mysterious allure, he seems to stay in a zone he's most comfortable in; not too close to make connection, not too far to be disposed.

Chanyeol lives his life tiptoeing around people. Always too afraid what other's think of him, having nowhere to lean on, a rotating soul with no focal point, he was a fleeting kite with no anchor. And when he found you, he found home.

Your thoughts, they tumble against each other. You find yourself running on foot with a phone close to your ears. "If you don't tell me where he is, Yixing I will kill you!" You cried to the phone. People are starting to stare your frantic calls but you didn't care. The time is urging you to be quick on your feet, you don't know where they are taking you but you felt the need to keep moving, even if thee's no clear location in mind. Yixing understood the urgency but he had promised Chanyeol. So he is contemplating in front of his desktop, pinching the bridge of his nose in dire conflicting thoughts. "You can't kill me, I'm a thousand miles away in Beijing." He snorted.

"I know what kills you, I know where your wife is, Yixing, don't play with me." You threatened. "You won't kill her..." Yixing slapped on a soulless smile. "If you don't tell me, Yixing," you spun in place, in the middle of an intersection, looking like you're about to cry, and you look up to the sky at 5PM, breathing, "...you'll kill me."

With the spin of the barrel, bullets fully loaded with gun, Chanyeol aims at the empty can of soda before taking his jacket and zipped himself up. He let himself relax on some empty thoughts only to lead himself back into the image of you. Leaning his head back, he sighs and smiled. "Why do you always come when I'm seeking tranquility?" Chanyeol couldn't love you, he shouldn't and he can't. Job wise, he's better off alone. Morally, your father indirectly caused his father's death. Love wise, you deserved better.

When Chanyeol first saw you, he wasn't sure what it was. You were caught staring at him from a distant and when he helped you gather your things, he noticed your sparkling eyes. He just wasn't sure why. He hadn't seen those kind of eyes before. People rarely look him in the eye. They talk about him, to him, make choices for him as if he wasn't there. He got the first sense of attention from you. And it was a lot to take. It was overwhelming. He chose to ignore a whole lot of it. He should be pretending not to care, but it gets difficult when every time he gets a red bean filled bun in his bag when he got out of the library. Sometimes he gets an umbrella if it rains, only to pass it to other girls who needs them.

One day, Chanyeol waited behind a vending machine to see who puts food and notes on his bag all the time. He left his bag in a open locker outside the library purposely. He waited quite awhile until a small petite figure comes by, slid in two buns and reach behind her bag for a sticky note. And then she steps away. Chanyeol went to his bag, unzips them to see the bun and a sticky note with encouraging words on. He went after her. "Hey." Clawing your bag's strap with his fingers from behind. He could see that you were horrified. You planned to run real quick, but he smiled. Awkwardly. "...I just want to say thank you." He blurted when you turn away to leave.

"I'm not sure how to..." he scratches the back of his head, smiling to the floor, "I'm Park Chanyeol. Can we be friends?"

But your answer were surprising. It took him awhile to process. "No." You shot, with a serious face. "...No we cannot be friends." You blinked and started walking away. It was odd. At least for Chanyeol, it was. And it was from then onwards, Chanyeol starts noticing you. The buns stopped coming, the sticky notes too, the umbrellas. So when it rained one evening, Chanyeol shield you with his own leather jacket, over your head. "Where's your umbrella?!" He roared, afraid that his voice are dimmed by the heavy rain. "I gave it all to you!" You matched his tone, and, "...Where's yours?!" You asked, squinting your eyes at his tall stature. "I gave it away for someone who needs them more." He said. "Great." You sighed angrily. "I'm hungry." He suddenly say.

"So?" You scrunched your face. "Will you have dinner with me?" Chanyeol blurted. Now, get this. It was in the middle of college field, no shelter available when the rain started pouring down, and he is shielding you with his leather jacket, asking you out on a date. "Your timing is amazing!" You shrieked. "Is that a yes or a no? You have to be straight with me, I can't read between the lines." He darted. He brought you to his car, and he was rummaging at the back seat where stuff piles up. He frowns at first while you try to wring out water from your hair. Then, after much effort he let out a loud, "Aha!" He took out a hair dryer. "Where'd you get that?"

"It's battery powered hair dryer. You go first." Chanyeol climbed to the driver seat. "I think I'm good..." You declined. "Why...no, you got a longer hair, so you should," Chanyeol sneezes. "Yeah no. Listen to me, you're going to catch a cold if you don't get dry first. I have a doctor roommate, I'll be fine." You said and grabbed the hair dryer from him. Before he starts protesting, you turned the dryer on while Chanyeol sat quietly, watching the rain hitting against the car window. "I don't think the rain's going to stop soon." He said. You turned off the dryer to hear him, "What did you say?" He repeated and you chuckled. "Right, you said you were hungry... there's a diner nearby." You said, running your fingers through his gorgeous light brown locks.

Chanyeol held one finger up and rummaged through the pocket behind the seat and took out two buns. "We have these." You bit your lips and smiled. The fact that he kept all the buns you gave him was out of this world. "Why?" You asked. "What do you mean." He shoved half of the bun into his talented mouth without a problem. "You didn't like me, you rejected me. You said we can be friends..." You tore them open with your teeth. "...I didn't say I don't like you, I said can we be friends, don't all relationship starts that way?" You looked at him bewildered. By what he just said, and how casually he said it, it couldn't be the first time he's been with a girl. "...I get it." You nodded to the bun, smiling. "How many girls did you get with that honey buttered words of yours?"

Chanyeol chews everything up with a nonchalant look on his face, answering, "...One. You." He didn't even look up at you to see how you reacted. "You have to get warm, do you have anything dry?" You changed the subject. Chanyeol hovers half of his body to the back compartment. "A blanket, a varsity jacket and a T-shirt," he turns to catch a suspicious look on your face. "Sometimes I travel long hours and have to sleep in the car." He explained. "Are you sure?" You crossed your arm. "Gosh, why do you have so many trust issues?" he gushed at you. "Because." You shrugged. He got off his shirt and you got off yours, trusting that he doesn't look at you when you changed, and he really didn't. He was honest.

"Do you place buns to all the other guy's bag too?" He asked. You shook your head, hugging your legs. His over sized T-shirt went over your knees, looking like a mini-dress. "And the sticky notes?" He asked again. "Nope."

"Why did you do that?" "Are you reeling out a confession out of me?" "Am I? Is that what it sounds like? Is there a confession?" "Wow. Douche bag." You kicked his knee, playfully. He chuckled.

You started to play with the seat belts. The car is a bit old, so the things inside was a little fascinating to you. Everything was fun and games until your hair got stuck in the reels. "Chanyeol? Help."

"Why, what's happening." "My hair got stuck in the loop, I can't get it out." "Serves you right." He spat. You roared his name. "OK, hold on." Chanyeol went over to your side and start to work it out. He had nothing in his varsity jacket, his cologne still lingers and you were getting light headed for some reason. His collarbone is so close to your nose right now. He's muttering words out, something about the reel got your hair strands, and maybe something about cutting your hair off. But you weren't responding. Chanyeol lowered his eyes to your level, face just inches away from each other. "All done." He whispered and you looked up to him, swallowing a gulp of spit. Then you closed the gap between you two, puckering your lips onto his. Chanyeol was taken by surprise. He let you take over and lead the kiss because he wasn't sure what to do.

One thing led to another, and that's the story of how you spend the night with him, in his car. To which you woke up alone in, with his varsity jacket and blanket, the next morning without Chanyeol, leaving you nothing but bite marks on your wrist and his car key.

Chanyeol was kidnapped that morning. He was going to comeback to the car after purchasing hot coffee but he never made it back to you. He couldn't. He was flown across the country, unconscious and brainwashed for about two weeks maybe three, he wasn't quite sure. He was awakened, splashed with ice cold Antartic water, almost every time. his hair pulled back. he was insulted at, peed on, a living punching bag. "What is your name!" The instructor would roar in his ear. He starts singing the national anthem. Every time he was inquired the question, he sang the national anthem on top of his lungs. He was tied in wire and immersed in the sea water to give up his own name, but he wouldn't. He was hanged by the tower in cold winter, threatened his life but his loyalty to his nation was intact.

"You think she's in love with you, soldier?! She'll forget about you! You ain't the only guy she's seeing! This ain't a soap opera! Girls don't last long!" Chanyeol's gaze burns straight ahead as the general screams in his face. "...You glaring at me? Son!? You have something to say about that?!" Chanyeol throws a spit to the floor he was kneeling on. His body persevered horrifying assaults. They start to show on his ripped body, he doesn't even have a patch of skin without bruises or cuts anymore. And his training proceeded for four more years. With no pictures of you, all he had was your memories. He was surprised he lived this long. With just that.

That was then. His guns clicks and he shut the main door behind him. He got into the car and when he opened his car door and entered, the other side did too. "What are you doing." He gruff. "Shut up, start driving." You growled. "I'm not going anywhere until you step out of the car, young lady." He took his hand off the initiator. "Well, too bad, I'm a great driver," you start to climb on his lap. "What are you doing." He sounded tired. "...You said you won't drive." You roared back. He clenched his jaws as you sat back to the passenger side. "Okay, but you're staying in the car."

"Permission to nag." You asked him as the car starts moving. "...Regrettably, granted." He answered. "How dare you make plans without me. I thought you've finally got into your senses during the few days I was with you, I'm afraid not! You were as selfish as you were four years ago, sorry, six years ago. Is there anything coming out of your mouth that aren't lies, Chanyeol? How shallow do you think I am? Ha?"

"I don't think you're shallow." He lazily protested as he make a turn. "Oh really? Lies! This is what you've been doing to me, you shitty ass friend. Am I your laughing stock? Do I look a girl to you, Chanyeol? Do I finally look like a girl to you now?" You squared your shoulders at him. "I always think of you as a girl." He glances around with lazy eyes. "OMG wow. Why did I ever consider you..." You rolled your eyes at him.

Chanyeol breathes in and sighed. "I'm a police officer and you're looking at me as if I'm a child." "You're not a child." "Is that why you didn't tell me about your plans to see Sanha on your own?" "It's not just Sanha now, it's Minseok and I don't want you to be involved. It's getting really late now, and I can't leave you alone. Promise me," He pulled before a large warehouse, "...When Wolf gets here, you'll not be with him."

"No." You groaned.

What did he meant you can't join him?

You looked at him bewildered as he cast the car engine off, his eyes wandering to his dashboard before his hands got busy to grab his gun in the lower compartment of your seat. He keeps one in his vehicle in case you need them. 'What makes you think you have the authority to stop me from participating in this arrest? You know I've been apart of this investigation since day one...' You searched for his eyes but Chanyeol's busy loading his extra bullets than to listen to you.

'It'll be too dangerous.' He answers simply, opening the Range Rover's car door and hoisting himself out of it. And you followed right after. 'This is not acceptable Chanyeol!' You chased after him and he spun around angrily. 'Don't make me do things I don't want to do.' He warned.

He will never be able to live a day if anything happens to you. Even if it's just a scratch on your skin. 'How dare you tell me what to do.' You growled at him. Chanyeol rolled his eyes at you. 'Come here.' He grumbled and took your wrist to stand underneath a lamp post.

'There's so many things in my life I have zero controls on...' Chanyeol softens his voice. '...so you aimed to control me?' You yanked your wrist out of his grasp, successfully. 'Not control.' He took them in his grip again, and this time, he put on a cuff around them and latch the other to handrail next to the lamp post. 'Hate me. Kick me. Punch me. Do whatever you want with me. But I won't risk losing you. Not now. Not ever.' Chanyeol took a few steps back, wiping his hand on the back of his jeans, looking down at the curb where you stood.

Not control.

Chanyeol's hand slid down one side of your face. He let one of your wrist cuffed, the other free. The night lamp flickers above both of you. He brought his lips down to yours and he,

He kissed you. Not control.

But protect.

He rested his right hand behind your neck and tilted your chin up to meet his lips properly. His mouth mold themselves on yours like they're meant to be there. His lips felt like home. You became light headed instantly. Your eyes flutter close as he uses his body to push your backed against the rails that he cuffed your wrist with.

Your other hand clutched on the hem of his jacket lightly. You neither pull him near nor push him far. He poured everything he had into the kiss. His emotion, his desperation, his unanswered questions and secrets. Taking the opportunity of you being cuffed. He is about to enter the enemy's lair alone and should he die without the chance of confessing to you, at least he had you tasting him. And with that, maybe you'll miss him a bit when he's gone.

With a small peek through his lashes, he saw your cuffed drew up to float to touch him but was held back by the cuff he put on. So Chanyeol slid his hand down that needy hand of yours and clasped them gingerly.

Maybe he shouldn't have done it. The kiss.

He's addicted now. To your lips.

He backs away when you were wanting more. He turns his whole body facing away from you. His warmth disappears and it instantly angered you. Odd. This wasn't you.

You called him. Softly. Almost a whisper. He starts to move. He starts to step away. He marches.

And so, you urgently called his name, this time, with a lot more strength, 'Chanyeol!'

And then, 'Don't leave me like this. Please don't leave me. Don't leave me again! If you don't let go of me right now, I will fucking kill you! If you don't come back, Chanyeol I swear!' You cried. The metal cuffs rattled against the rails. But Chanyeol didn't stop. He kept on walking. And his eyes were fire, marching straight to where the enemy is.

'I'll come back and free you. And if I don't; someone else will." Chanyeol never looked back. "But I don't want someone else." You sniffed. "You don't deserved to be killed by anyone else but me Park Chanyeol, you hear me?!"

Chanyeol smiled at the ground before turning around to you and blew you a kiss. You kicked it away. "Give me a real one!" You roared. "Baby, you look pretty, tied up like that." He winked and jogged to the warehouse, leaving you behind.  

The eye of the blade dug into Minseok's porcelain skin, and blood pooled at the tip of it as Kyungsoo put on a sinister smile on his face. Minseok groans in pain, teething the fabric Kyungsoo thoughtfully cast into his mouth. "Do you know why inflicting pain on others is fun?" He continued to trail the blade down the insides of Minseok's fore arm. "The face that they make fuels you. And then it feeds you with an adrenaline rush you cannot find elsewhere. That's why it's addictive." Kyungsoo ran his tongue on his lower lip as he wiped the blade from Minseok's blood on a white cloth handed by his assistant. "I'm still deciding what to do with you. Brazenly coming into my casino villa with fake chips of yours, trying to fool me. Naughty-naughty boy." Kyungshoo shake his head.

In the same warehouse, slightly at the opposite end, was a room. A shed. Sanha's poking the nail he found on the dusty floor, into the door knob, trying to pick the lock. But fails. He conceded by banging on the metal door, causing a ruckus, only to be ignored, since he was so far in, the warehouse, no one heard him. The padlock rattles outside. Kyungsoo had him caged like a dog. "Truth be told, Kyungsoo is never going to let us leave." A voice came from one of the dark corners. "Shut up, Rocky." Sanha hissed. "We're disposable. That's why he took us in." Sanha flew to Rocky, grabbing him by the collar. "You are maybe okay with dying here, but I'm not! I will get out of this, and I will leave you behind." Sanha threw Rocky back to the floor.

"Naive." Rocky cussed. Sweats beading on his forehead as he came back leaning against the door, yelling, "Help! Save us!" Only to drift far and far away from any human.

A team of black van came from the main street and you knew it was Wolf and maybe Chanyeol's back up squad. Wolf came running to you as soon as his eyes laid on you. "Please don't tell me he went inside alone." He sighed. "Yes he did." You nodded to confirm. "What's the plan?" He asked. "I don't know. I just know that he's inside, with Kyungsoo and Minseok. And he think Sanha's inside there as well."

"Who's Minseok?" Joonmyeon asked and that's when a team of masked men, with helmets and full black suit, surrounded Joonmyeon, pointing their assault rifles at him. "...Get on your knees now! Place both of your hands on the ground! Do it now! Now!" Joonmyeon didn't put up a fight and followed the instructions. What in the world is going on.

"Kim Joonmyeon, you are under arrest for possession of narcotics, in your premises of Songpa-gu street, and signing your name under suspicious chemicals for an unspecified use by using your national clearnace to export, import and produce the following drugs: meth, cocaine, a number of designer drugs under the comfort of your position. You are also charged with embezzlement with the profit you obtained from your clubs through drug lords. You are guilty for receiving bribery and misusing your government officer privilege." Your eyes widened to Wolf. "I needed the money...I needed the money!" Joonmyeon cried as he was brought away.

"Team A, assist. Team B, secure the perimeter. Team C, bombs are implanted, keep your hand on the trigger and wait for my command." A mysterious instruction came out from one of the ear pieces. Joonmyeon was lift off of the ground in a flash and brought away. And just then, a man in suits jumps out of one of van's back doors with a languid stride. "I'm Ji Chang Wook, I'm the director of tactical moves, pleased to meet you, Mrs. Park." He smiled. He was handsome, and moderately attractive. He is either at the same level as Chanyeol or higher. "I'd shake your hands but I'm cuffed. And I'm not Mrs. Park." You corrected him. "Oh you will be." He winked. "I'd help but, keys are with Chanyeol, so."

And then suddenly, a bomb detonated. Changwook covered you with his jacket. Debris were little but they were no less dangerous.

Changwook spun to the van, "That wasn't protocol." He sped to the van, leaving you behind. "Agent Park, report. Agent Park, status! Fuck." He decided to suit up like the others and went in. "Come in, now!" Changwook heard from his ear piece and pointed his fore finger and middle finger into the all entrance. The team understood the gesture and barged in, as told. Smoke filled the air, the fog covered and limited your eye sight. You hear cackling from the fire, and alone, still cuffed, and nothing to see, you're even more frightened if someone got hurt. You heard dragging. Two figures in the distant, Sanha was limping with another boy. The stretchers were brought in as he collapse. He could barely open his eyes at you, but he did extend his arm to be caught by you.

Your wrist are starting to redden from the force you are putting on. Your fingers starts to tremble. Tears won't stop and you caught yourself praying hard. Because you don't see the face you've been wanting to see. Another bomb went off. You caught bodies flying out the window. You see officers coughing through the fog, taking off their mask, and vomiting. It was chaotic. "Bomb 3, deactivated."

"Bomb 4, deactivated." "Bomb 5, nullified." "Bomb 6, alive."

So that is one more bomb to worry about.

Changwook looks around for a familiar face, but apart from lifeless bodies, he hasn't seen anyone. There's fire everywhere. "Put the gun down, Kyungsoo." Changwook heard a voice. Chanyeol's pointing the gun at Kyungsoo who had the trigger, gun targeted to his head. "I will not pay for my sins!"He announced. Gun shots. Twice. Blurred picture. Total black out.

. . .

"What are you thinking about Chanyeol?" "Nothing. You?" "Nothing." "We're both are lying, aren't we?" "Yeah. OK, I'll go first, and then you. I'm thinking about the decisions my father made throughout his lifetime. I hate it when I'm worried about my family and they looked like they're fine. It just sucks."

"Lucky you still have a family to worry about." Chanyeol's gaze stuck upon the ceiling. "I'm sorry." You blurted, looking up at him. Pulling his arm to make a pillow out of it. "For what." He chuckled. "Things." You sighed. "I know what your father did, it wasn't his fault." Chanyeol shut his eyes. "Get some sleep, and stop worrying about things. And stop saying you're sorry. You couldn't have done anything." Chanyeol set his wrist on his forehead as he sleeps.

"Do you still think that kissing me was a mistake?" You inched closer to his jaws. "Shh. I'm trying to sleep." He whispered softly. "I don't think you were a mistake." You said to him. "I was in the heat of the moment. I say things I don't mean. Now, sleep." Chanyeol covered your eyes and gave you a peck on the lips before pretending it never happened.

. . .

Is this it?

The last bomb went off. Changwook was the last one to walk out on two feet. He took off his helmet and you were devastated, You turned away and held yourself on the rails Chanyeol cuffed you on, until a hand slid down your forearm and with it you could feel rubble from little pebbles, it was dirty and ashed. It slid a key into the hole and set you free.

"Your timing is amazing." You breathed.

"If you don't wife the fuck out of me, I'm going to husband the fuck out of you until you get sick of me." You spit at him. He lowers his lips to your ear and whispered. "I wanna put a baby in you, Mrs. Park." Chanyeol pulled away and bit his lip, looking at you. You grabbed his face and kissed him the way you imagined you would. You wrapped your legs around his hip and circled your arm around his neck.

And of course, like it's destined to be, the rain falls on top of both of you. "We always seem to make out wherever there's rain or water." You spoke to his lips. "I'm only honest when it rains." Well, it better rain frequently from now on.

"Why do you choose to be a police officer?" Your best friends asked you as she was waiting in the labor room. "Handcuffs and pretty boys, babe. Handcuffs and pretty boys." You smirked. Taking out your handcuffs, "Handcuffs," you caught Chanyeol as he came back from buying a juice from a vending machine, and cuffed his wrist with yours, you pointed, "...Pretty boys."

"What the fuck." Chanyeol muttered. "Pay back time." You scrunched your face at him.