#i think I drew their head too tall but it’s okays shhhh

[thepearlad]

Baykey bayker

[op-law]

Charlotte Kato x Reader {I Need You} Ch 3

A/n: Alright I have put my detective skills to work and at first thought, Kato was around 7'7" but now that I've seen that he was slightly taller than Perospero when they stood next to each other on Big Mom's ship that estimate is not correct. So, I believe we can now assume he is over 10'11" in height since that is how tall Perospero is.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n)'s Pov

Before I could even finish taking my first step into the house my mother had already started to speak to me from another room. "Oh, (Y/n) dear do you mind coming in here for a second?" Sometimes I thought this woman was just trying to annoy me on purpose but then again, she was my parent so it was kind of her job. "Yeah, one sec just let me take my boots off!" I didn't want to keep my Mother waiting long since it was always a guessing game with her trying to figure out what she could want with you. "Take a seat (Y/n) I'll make this quick I promise"

When my eyes locked onto the yellow fruit and kitchen knife sitting on the coffee table my mind started to regret even coming back inside the house. "What's the lemon for Mother... are we making lemonade?" As the older lady shook her head, she picked up the usually large knife and held it tightly. "No, (Y/n) we're not making lemonade though I can see about making you a glass later if you'd like" Alright I might have been overreacting but my brain was starting to think my own Mother was about to kill me. "T-Then why do you have a lemon and a knife?"

"Well, (Y/n) it has come to my attention that I need to make sure you are prepared for the big scary world out there that awaits you. We're going to have the talk together since I have neglected to educate you about how to handle when a guy asks to become intimate with you" I think my soul officially left my body after those last few words exited her mouth but it wasn't like I could just run out of the room now. "And what purpose does the lemon serve as?"

"The lemon symbolizes your purity and this knife is any guy who wants to take it. Don't look so scared (Y/n) I'm sure you'll find my talk inspiring or at the very least helpful for when the right guy comes along" As my Mother slammed the knife down, she cut the top of the poor fruit and I'm sure she managed to damage the table as well just based on the force she used. "Alright (Y/n) let's start with the basics. What do you do when a guy wants to have sex with you?"

"Runaway as fast as possible and never speak to that person again. Why do we need to have this talk Mother? I'm not a moron and I'm not going to sleep with some random guy unless I love him"

"I know sweetheart but we're going to have this conversation anyway so stay seated until I say you can leave"

~~~~~~~~~~

30 Minutes Later...

After my Mother had finally finished embarrassing to hell out of me, she left the room with this big ol' smile on her face though my lips were pressed into a frown. "You can go back to your room now sweetheart. I'll let you know when dinner is ready" Oh, I hope Kato's not too bored upstairs all by himself. As I got off of the couch my feet carried me up the steps before they stopped in front of my bedroom door.

"(Y/n) can you please help me with my math homework later? The problems are confusing me and we have a test coming up" Once I had agreed to help Yuki with her homework I disappeared into my room before my body pressed against the door and slid down to the floor. "Oh, good your back (Y/n). I was starting to miss you~ Hehehe"

"I'm sorry that I ke-... Hm, K-Kato w-when did you turn back into a man?" When my eyes locked on the man that was now sitting on my bed, I had to stop myself from screaming like the fangirl I was but somehow, I managed to contain my excitement. "It happened a few minutes after you left though I am unable to stand to my full height due to your short ceilings"

"Yeah, the ceilings in my world aren't that high since no one has ever been over nine feet tall. We're all short here but you know something? I didn't think you were this tall. Your height was never listed on your wiki page so I just thought that you were a little bit taller than Pedro. Are you hungry? I can sneak you up some food if you are but it won't be much"

"You know about Pedro... do you like him as well?" As I thought over his question, I picked myself off of the ground before I moved to sit beside him. "Nah, I'm not into Minks I prefer that my men be at least half-human. Why do you ask Kato? Hehehe. You're not jealous, right?"

"Hm, it doesn't matter much anymore since my older brother killed that Mink... I hope they're all okay we were heading to Wano Country but then King attacked our ship and sent some of us overboard in the process. I'm not sure what happened though once I went under the waves something hit my head causing me to blackout. I found myself in that corn maze after I had regained consciousness but thankfully you brought me home with you. Thank you again (Y/n). I'll forever be in your debt so if you need anything just ask and I'll do the best I can to make it happen"

"Oh, Big Mom's fine. She and Kaido were making an alliance or something of that nature" It was difficult to figure what emotion Kato was feeling though based on his smile I figured that he must have been happy to hear the good news. "Thank you for telling me about Mama... I am a little hungry but please don't feel like you need to keep me fed"

"It's no trouble Kato you're my house guest after all and I can't let my Pumpkin King starve~ Just wait here... are there any foods you don't like or can I bring you what I can find?" As I stood up from the bed, I waited in front of him though it didn't take Kato long to answer. "I'll eat whatever you bring me... but could you perhaps bring me something sweet?"

"Hehehe. I'll see what I can do~ Stay out of trouble while I'm gone my adorable little pumpkin man~" Sure, many people didn't think very highly of Kato though it was their loss and it only meant I could have him all to myself. "Hehehehe. You call me little but I'm twice your size (Y/n)~ I like you though so I'll let you call me whatever you'd like but I want something in return"

"Something in return?" At first, I was confused since Kato seemed to have this light pink color on his cheeks almost like he was blushing. "I would like a kiss" Now never in a million years did I expect Kato to say that to me but then again, we had just kissed while he was still in his pumpkin form and the man had said that it was nice. "Really, you want to kiss me again? That's surprising since not a lot of guys are interested in me... You want to kiss me because you're interested in me, right?"

"Yes, I find you very interesting (Y/n) and I've never met a girl quite like you before. You're a cute girl to so why wouldn't men be falling at your feet asking for your hand in marriage? I know in my world I would have gladly asked you to marry me... that is if Mama approved of you" Alright so I wasn't exactly sure how to respond to Kato's bold claim about possibly marrying me but thankfully my thoughts were put on hold as his hands gripped my shoulders. "What are you doing Ka-thmmm"

As the man continued to ravage my lips with his, my body was moved until it was pressed firmly against him. Though when I felt one of his hands dip down close to my behind I moved my arms back to try and stop him but unfortunately for me, I heard the door opening behind us at the same time. "(Y/n) can you explain th-th-th... W-W-What's going on in here!?" If Yuki continued to yell like this then it was only a matter of time before my mother came upstairs to investigate. "Shhhh! Don't say a word about this to Mom. Kato this is Yuki... Yuki this is Kato and he's officially my houseguest so please keep your mouth shut, alright Sis?"

"H-How in the hell did he even get here? Oh, fuck you're going to be in so much trouble when Mom discovers your keeping a grown Pumpkin Man in your room... Hehehe. I'll keep your secret but in exchange, you'll need to write my history essay for me~" That seemed like an easy task for me though Kato decided to speak up as he drew his weapon.

"Or we could kill you and bury your body in the woods where no one will ever find you"

"Kato! We do not unalive people in this world so put your sword away and apologize to my little sister right this second" I tried my best to keep my voice down low though I still managed to get my point across since the man immediately laid his sword behind him as he wrapped his arms around me. "I'm sorry (Y/n) please don't be mad at me"

"T-The Pumpkin man wa-wants me dead... I-I'll keep your secret but please keep him away from me... C-Can I get you anything, Mr. Charlotte?" Poor little Yuki looked terrified at the moment though at least now I wouldn't need to write her history essay, "Find me something to eat. I don't want (Y/n) to leave the room unless she has to" As I was pulled closer to Kato's chest, I tilted my head back and showed him a smile. "You're adorable Kato~"

"(Y/n) that man is twenty-eight and you shouldn't be making out with him in your bedroom" When I turned back to look at Yuki, I started to think over what she had said though age was just a number to me. "It's fine Yuki. Now go find Kato something to eat before you make him mad" As the man in question laughter started to fill the room Yuki's face was starting to look a little pale but she had already left the room before I could say another word.

"Do you think she'll tell on us (Y/n) and why did she bring up my age?" I knew exactly why Yuki had brought up his age though it would matter much in a few weeks since I turned eighteen on Halloween night. "Well, I am seventeen so she's probably just questioning why someone eleven years old than me is kissing her older sister. My birthday is on October 31st... is my age a problem for you?"

"Hm, that's not much of an age gap (Y/n). If I'm not mistaken Praline's husband is seventeen years old than she is but we're not allowed to speak about her anymore. Do people from this world look down upon relationships with such age gaps?" As I responded to his question, I removed myself from his lap before I flopped down on my bed right beside where he was sitting. "It's more common than you'd think but Yuki is just weird so try your best to ignore her. What do you want to do with the rest of our day Kato?"

"Can I cuddle with you (Y/n)? I don't get that much attention from others because of my appearance but you seem to like me enough" As my head tilted over at him, I held out a hand before I locked it around his. "Hehehe. Sure, Kato, I'd love to cuddle with you though I think I'll have a nap while you're doing that~"

"Alright, (Y/n) sleep tight~"

~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 3

[grim-faux]

11- Too Alive

I’m not sure what sort of face I wore.  Somewhere between blank disbelief or utter horror, I didn’t register at first what was happening until his fist connected with my head, my bruised brow.  The second blow hit somewhere behind my ear, effectively stunning me.  Whoever the fuck he was, he was strong.  I lost count of how many times he pummeled me before I was soup, spilling out of that idiotwaiter.  I was barely conscious as he knelt over me, running his mouth.

“Hey, you’re that little shit priest’s guy, aren’t you?  His…witness, or whatever.  You must be exhausted.  Let’s take a break, huh, buddy?  The old two martini lunch, have a little confab.”

I already decided, I hated this guy.

He pulled me up by the lapels of my coat and flipped my body over his shoulder.  Miles.  Miles.  Focus, wake up.  I need to get away from this guy.  Have to get out, gotta find that way out and not get killed.  MILES!

My eyelids drooped as the world drifted away, my head was pounding and the room was spinning.  Or, he was turning before he flopped me down into a hard, uncomfortable chair.  I tried to find my limbs, my arms, my legs.  What was he doing?  He was saying something….

“…heavier than you look.  A little cardio wouldn’t kill you.” My head lolled back and turned uncomfortably on my neck, like a broken spring in a dull mechanism.  My jaw slacked, but I managed to clamp my mouth shut.  Keep your mouth shut around this guy.  If you have to pass out do so slumped forward, I was so muddled in the head I wasn’t sure if I could manage that.

What was he doing?  “Okay.  Here we go.  Arms and legs inside the car at all times.”  He tightened something around my wrists, and when I spun my head to see, I felt my heart skip a beat.

Restraints.  He leaned on my knee and gave a light heartened chuckle before he disappeared from sight.  Oh god.  This was bad.  This was indescribably bad. 

My head swayed as he gripped the handles of the wheelchair and spun me about.  Miles.  Get it the fuck together.  I need action, response.  I was certain I was trying to move, but my body was unresponsive and in pain.  I clinched my hand against the hard wristband, and turned my head a little more to view where we were going.  The man was quiet for now, only the howl of the storm and the irritating chirp of the wheels reverberated in the background.

I saw a steel countertop, blood, there was always blood.  Tall shelves, looked like for stacking something thin or flat.  Sinks, pots and pans.  Kitchen.  I closed my eyes feeling my brain flat line, no, stay awake.  Focus.  I can get out of this.  My head rolled back and I saw pale carpet, the colors looked horrible.  Walls burnt and damaged by fighting, or something.  The paint badly chipped, made everything look ancient and ugly.  Boarded up door, probably locked too.  An acrid scent twisted in my nose as I was reacquainted with soured aroma of the asylum all over again, the remaining lights seemed brighter than normal.

My head.  Everything was fuzzy, and everywhere all at once.  Was I supposed to be here?  Dead Murkoff, pools of blood, pieces of people scattered across the floor.  A surreal nightmare I couldn’t escape.  The surviving humans wore a mask, but their minds were fractured by the fiends that had run this place.  Something had been waiting for them in the mountains.  Was it Father Martin standing behind those bars, or…something else?  The Scales on Saul’s eyes were fear.  Miles.  Too deep Miles, I’ve gone too deep.  Please wake up.

I opened one eye to stare at the floor, and turned to check the walls of a glassed in office as the wheelchair rotated and backed up.  I was feeling sour in my gut, even when I shut my eyes the world still swirled around.  Horrible things nested in my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Y’know, I love the mountain air up here at night.  You want to head out, take a stroll?”  He darted into my line of sight, sideways and nodded toward an open door labeled EXIT in friendly, bright red letters.  “Go ahead, I’ll wait here.”

A stroll did sound really nice, but I wasn’t sure how to do that.  I opened my other eye and fixed him with a glare.  “Go on, run free.”  As he carried out the E he gestured gaily with his arm.  “I’m in no hurry.”

He paused and noticed my look, his giddiness died somewhat.  But he brushed it off coolly with a small shrug.  “No?  Alright.  Nose to the grind stone, I like that.” 

I did want to go out, clear my mind.  But I couldn’t figure out how to get outside from here, it seemed somewhat complicated.  My elbow brushed the armrest awkwardly as I shifted, couldn’t get my arm free. 

“Okay then.  Right this way.”  He drew the wheelchair backwards, and I watched the shapes warp around my eyes.  The walls and floor distorted, I whined softly as the large exit became smaller and more distant.

He pulled the wheelchair back into a small room, the doors shut in front of us and he hit a panel.

An elevator Miles.  We’re in an elevator, going the opposite way of where we need to be.  I exhaled a small breath and fought not to cough, that smell of death was following us.  Where are we going?  I blinked a few times and gently turned my head left and right, just to feel it all settle back into place.  We were headed up a few floors, I lost count, too focused on other things.

This guy had a strange apparatus imbedded with his arm, looked like blood was traveling through it.  His blood?  But why?  Given his physique, horrendously gaunt, his skin stretched over muscle and bone, he might have collapsed arties, and this was a bypass.  Or, he was giving transfusions.  That thought frightened me more than it sickened. 

His fingernails were overgrown, and splintered.  He was nearly bald, but for the scraggly hair that grew from the back of his skull.  His fashion sense consisted of an apron fastened to his front, at least it was something.  Though, there was that strange monocle lens over his eye, and the remains of a rotted surgical mask. 

Oh shit.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors scraped open.  He eased the wheelchair out, over bloodstained tile that had thick red lines identical to wheel tracks.  The man kept a steady pace, his casual indifference to his surroundings twisted in my thoughts.  I picked up the pained groans of people struggling with chains, and the distant moans.  The blood stains grew larger and thicker, with wide patterns across the dull and damaged floor.  He was following this trail.

He pushed the wheelchair past stained gurneys that lined the wall, and into a dark corridor where the sounds of anguish grew louder with our approach.  We passed through a segregation gate, broken and the door nowhere in sight.

“Kill me….Kill me.”

The chair slipped around a corner into a lit corridor, I felt the hair rising on the back of my neck.  A man tied to his bed made a valiant effort to break his bindings, his voice muffled despite his gaping black mouth.

“Shhhh…shh…shh…shhh!  You weren’t putting that tongue to any use anyway.”  I stared at him, and where a long line of decay had chiseled the plastered from the wall.  Blood was splattered on it near his face, and a black shape had formed in the mattress under his head. “Truth be told, I was just tired of licking my own stamps.”

Light poured from the open double doors in the walls side, he eased through them smoothly into a room of disarray.  Some sort of communion hospital room, beds lined the walls while others were shoved across the floor.  A few mattresses had been discarded around two large pillars off center of the room.  I stared as we continued through, toward a door with blood on the floor, on the walls, and a red mop leaned on the corroded plaster.  I groaned through my teeth and turned away, but that was only the beginning.  A sloppy handprint had been pressed by the doorframe, and thick black lines led back indicated a struggle in which the doomed was dragged.

That same reek from the dying patient room, stale urine and extensive amounts of old copper and rot.  I flinched and jerked at my wrists, trying to curse, but it came out as a stiff murmur.

“Here we are, then.”  As we entered, I saw bloody shoeprints in the little bit of light.  This guy was barefoot.

He spun the chair around and drew me deeper into this black room that smelled of death and pain.  He sighed, and said, “Thanks so much for coming by.  We’ll begin your consultation in a moment,” as he spoke he flipped the lights on from somewhere, and I was buried in full view of this horrific place. 

Blood splattered walls, thick pools of blood coated the tile floor.  Urinals lined the wall… was this a lavatory?  He was chopping people up in a restroom!  Ragged body pieces were scattered everywhere, to the side stood a small table cart with rusty tools lined out on its surface, behind it sat a pile of moldy arms and splint ribcages.  Fat insects scattered under the light.  The man, whoever he was, crushed them under his bare feet like they were crisp autumn leaves.  “I’ll just need a second to wash up and….”

As he trailed off, he reached for my belt undoing the snap and pulled my camera free.  “Oh…Home movies!” He posed with the camera, before turning his attention to a large wash basin behind him.  “…And it’ll give us a chance to talk.”

He set MY camera on the edge of a sink.  ON the EDGE of a SINK!  As he was washing his hands!

Yes, I know, this should be the least of my concerns…. But everything I’ve gone through, EVERYTHING!  Is. On. That. Camera!  I didn’t cart it through sewers and protect it from naked thugs, to have some wacko carelessly dump it in a sink of WATER while I’m tied up!

Break out of the restraints.  If I wriggle hard enough, they would come undone.  I wrench one way, then the other feeling the leather cut into my skin.  I hissed as I jerked my wrists back hard and….

“You know,” As I stared down, his bare feet and that ugly apron came into view.  I took a sharp breath and looked him in the face, “I’m a bit worried how much time you’ve spent with Father Martin.”  I recoil as he turns away.  “I know…”  And heads towards the table cart piled with rusted, bloody tools.  The one beside rotting human limbs.

“I hope you haven’t been letting him confuse you with all his holier-than-thou bible thumping.”  He began fiddling with the tools, turning one over or picking up the next and examined its jagged edge.

I have come to terms with how severely I am fucked.  It’s frigid, my coat is almost dry, but the powerful quivers that rip through my body stem from the way he’s casually walking over here with that long, jagged-edged blade.  My fingers dig harder at the armrest until my nails ache.  I need to get out of here, I need to survive….

“No offense to the man, but I sometimes worry he might just be,” He set the blade beside my neck, to where I could feel the tiny teeth cut into my skin.  I froze staring up into his eyes and felt…an unfamiliar wave of helplessness ripple through me.  Oh please…  “A little bit….crazy.”  I wince when he nicks me, and I withdraw from that side, even as he’s already returning to the cart. 

Halfheartedly I tugged at the restraints, more out of desperation than any attempt to escape.  My eyes followed his movements, my mind racing.  How fucked was I?  I was so fucked.  Completely at the mercy of a homicidal sociopath.  I couldn’t rip my hands free but I wasn’t exactly trying, I set my feet on the floor and he glanced my way causing me to set them back on their steps.  The wrist straps, I needed to loosen them.  Before he slit my throat.  All the blood spray on the walls!  He was—

“It’s understandable, people get scared,” he resumed, picking up what was definitely a bone saw.  A fuckin big one, too.  I swallowed and felt myself choke a bit on my tongue.  “They’re as likely to turn to God as anything else.” He examined it, setting it delicately over his fingers and turning the blade over, before he returned to me.  “God died with a gold standard.  We’re on to more concrete faiths now.”

He rested the end of the saw against my upper arm and resumed scrutinizing the blade, as though he had doubts it could cut through the tendons and cartilage of my shoulder.  Drool seeped out of the corner of my mouth as I drew my lips back in a grimace.  “You have to rob Paul to pay Peter, there is no other way.”  I clenched my fist tightly, and at this point he took an interest in my hand, lowering the knife.  I did not miss the wicked way it glint along the edge.  “Murder in its simplest form,” he gently touched the underside of my fist, effectively uncoiling my hand and examined it upon his.  “But what happens when all the money is gone?”  When he removed his hand and returned to the table cart, I clenched my fist once more and stared.

It felt like I made some sort of mistake.

“Well, money becomes a matter of faith.”  He sort of dumped the bone saw on the table, and went straight for a urinal….

Where a huge set of rusted shears sat, waiting.  “And that’s what I’m here for.”  My heart twisted behind my ribs as he drew near, snipping the grungy blades together. “To make you believe.”

Oh god.

A soft whimper escaped my throat as I tried to get up and pull my wrist back, but it was locked tight in the restraints. On impulse I struggle to get my feet down on the floor and shove away, but the floor was too slick with fluids.  My heels kicked out awkwardly, comically.  I seized up as the crazy fucker anchored his weight over my thighs with one knee, and leaned over my arm obscuring my sight.  No.  No.  He’s not, he can’t!  WAIT!  He gipped my right hand in his and with the other, he had the shears…he….

FUCKIN CHRIST!

A horrible crunch splint the air, fire surged through my forearm, scorching across my wrist. I gag and howled in pain as the blades cracked the bone, but didn’t quite tear through the skin, I don’t think. The lights dimmed as my consciousness spun, a sound I’d never heard myself make before spilled from my throat. I felt his weight lift from my legs and I tried to lift my foot, find the floor. It was too much for me as he worked.  My senses torn raw, remained locked on my compromised hand. He twisted the shears, but my finger was still attached. IT WAS! I felt it dangle loosely before he tore it off!

I sobbed in pain. My finger! Which one! I couldn’t see, couldn’t look. I COULDN’T FEEL MY FINGERS!

I turned my head to him, the agony still fresh as my vision dimmed. “You paying attention?” He pulled his arm up and swung out, smashing his bloody palm against my face. “Don’t pass out on me, there’s still a lot for you to absorb.” He snapped the scissors as he practically sat on my lap, and gripped my left hand same as the other. I tried to keep my fist clenched, but his jagged fingernails cut into my skin. He was ripping my hand apart!

NO! NO! YOU FUCKIN PSYCHO—

That grotesque crackle as my bone ruptured, and the flesh, I imagined the flesh ripping as he readjusted my hand. Keep it together Miles. Don’t pass out. I’ll get through this. I’ll survive and I’ll see this bastard die. But I felt my resolve diminish, I was barely hanging on as it was.

I choked as my voice caught in my throat, between a sob and groan. I leaned away, trying not to see what he was doing, though I felt the nerves erupt as their devastated ends were ravaged by a pair of blunt scissors. He had a better grip on my hand this time, or I didn’t struggle as much. I felt the odd sensation of my finger rubbing over the back of my hand before it was gone. My brain did a weird twist from processing it, and the sudden realization there was this wide gap in my hands where my fingers once held residence. I think it made the pain worse, or made it ignite in a finale as I bent my head back and moaned between my teeth.

My hands were covered in blood, dark rivers carving red paths over my sleeves. I yowled, and another incomprehensibly sound gurgled in the back of my throat. My fingers….

“There,” he cooed. “Better now, right?” He turned and strolled aside to collect the table cart, and braced the shears against the handle as he pushed it by. “Do you understand what we achieved here? We made the consumer into the means of productions.” I couldn’t keep track where he was, somewhere behind me? Everything was fuzzy, dark spots dotted my vision as I felt all the strength spill out of my guts. “This thing is going to sell itself.” I barely saw him head out the door, before it slammed shut.

I never saw what he did with my fingers.

ARGH! Hell, damnit all! My voice sounds strangled and sick, I try to get over the fact that I’ve been mutilated, that my fingers were gone. They were fucking gone. The ecstasy that I was somehow still alive clashed with the trauma, and the pain flared through my forearms. I let out another moan as I stretched my hands out to take in the damage.  It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe.  My legs were still pitifully weak and bent askew over the wheelchairs foot rests, where his weight had shoved them down. Water streaked down my cheeks and my stomach knotted.  Oh god, my fingers were really gone.

The index on my right hand, and my left hands ring finger. Gone. Where did they go? I attempted to quiet my whimpers, blood was just spilling out of the remaining stumps to mix with the layers of gore already dried on my pants and shoes, most of it spread under me in a thin crimson puddle. I needed to fix that. Had to get out. Had to get free. Shit. Oh god, oh shit.

I jerked at my wrists, grunting as the skin aggravated the raw nerves. Can’t stay here, don’t want to think about what he does next. Fingers first, then, then….

I jerk at my wrists, the loop was impossible to loosen due to its design. But I could drag my hand back, coated with my blood it was slick enough to slip free. I could do this, I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to walk out of here. Nausea swells in me as my hand folded in the loop, the pain in my knuckle and that space in my fingers. I try not to look as I work.

A sharp snap, and one hand rips free, then the other. Free. Gently, I drag my heels over the red puddle and steady my legs to what I can manage in my current state.  Then, push up, off the wheelchair without slipping. Everything in my body felt weak, my legs shook so bad I could barely keep my balance. I just lost a lot of blood in the short amount of time, and some psycho just chopped off two nice fingers! That bastard! That psychotic bastard! I would see him die, I would. I swear. For what he did—

 Recalling the experience, coupled with the stress, and the overwhelming stench of this foul room.  I collapse to my knees and flopped my arms up over the rim of the bloody sink, to keep from dropping to the filthy floor.  I try and avoid my pants as I expel the remains of my lunch from hours ago, in a murky mess of bile.  I’m not sure if I can stop as I heave up some more, till there’s nothing but convulsions wracking my trembling form. 

I try to push myself to my feet but this time I can’t do it, my body gives out and I slump sideways over the slick tile.  I’m barely able to avoid a thick puddle of blood as I crawl back to the wheelchair, the cleanest surface in the room.  Gingerly, I slip my hands over the seat and lay my head on my upper arm, I keep my mutilated hands raised while the blood still seeps.  My eyes focused on a nearly clean space on the wall as I zone out, I try and spit some of the lingering taste from my lips as my eyelids droop. 

 Calm down Miles, need to slow my heart rate.  I adjusted my legs under me to keep from pushing the chair away, mostly I wanted to get on my feet and get out of here.  He would be back, I doubt he left me for long.  But I was uncertain if my legs could carry me.  Another wave of nausea cut through me and I lean forward to the best of my ability just in case, but the sensation passed.  As I set my head down I noticed dampness on my sleeve, something dark from my face.  It took a moment for my mind to conjure up the recollection, he’d slapped me and this was my blood.  I lay my head down and let out a slow breath, concentrating on the way the damp coat crinkled over my ribs.  

My fingers were gone.

The lights flickered but I barely blinked, I struggled to come to terms with what has happened.  I don’t want this to affect me, I don’t want this to get me killed.  I didn’t want to die.  If I couldn’t cope, if I couldn’t get on my feet and move, I was dead.  He’ll find me lounging here and drive those shears through my face, that could be the only outcome.  My breath was labored, but I was all right, I kept telling myself this.  I lost two fingers, he could have done worse.  Most of it was psychological, I couldn’t let that wreck me.  I could still walk, but I had to get up.  I was going to survive, I was going to get out, and I would not die here.  Not after I came this far.  I would go further if I needed to, on my own feet.  I was going to walk out of this place, through those front doors.

My mind cleared more or less, the adrenalin flooding my veins would keep my senses sharp for a short time.  If I didn’t fuck it up again.  I slipped back to my knees and braced my elbows onto the hard seat of the wheelchair, pushing with my arms until I raised off one knee and then the other.  It was pathetic, my legs shook under my weight and I nearly fell as the chair slipped backwards but I managed to straighten up.  Carefully I spun around and staggered to the bloodied wash basin and lifted my camera off, I winced as the exposed bone on my index finger glanced its side.  As soon as I could, I needed to find a place to hide and recover better.

I took some time to temper myself to the fresh wounds and the eerie lacking digits, gently I checked through the cameras features pressing buttons with my middle finger and slipping the strap over my hand.  It ached but I had to do this now, there would be no second chances.  But the camera and strap would help protect my finger, once I had it on.

I checked the visor of the camera to find of course, it had caught everything.  For a second I pondered over what should be done, but I didn’t think over it long.  Rather go back and see what was recorded, I made the difficult decision, one I may come to regret.  I isolated the time segment where…this occurs, and lock it.  A small effort to prevent accidental deletion, and to discourage deletion should I change my mind.

This was real.  I might need this later.

I filmed a bit of the room, further adjusting myself to the space in my hand and their fresh sensitively to variation in temperature, and touch.  The bleeding had lessened considerably but blood still oozed in thick clots.  In the worst case scenario, my vulnerable hands would become a hindrance.  As it was now, staring at them made my vision foggy and I had to avert my eyes.  I doubt I’d find clean bandages and disinfectant, let alone utilize a steady hand in applying said dressings.  I vouched to leave them as they were, if I tried cleaning them it would aggravate the wounds and the bleeding needed to stop.  This entire facility was contaminated anyway, and I wouldn’t be able to flee as effectively if the bandages distracted me.

I took a sharp breath as I recalled what was beyond the door.  Everything I had fought to avoid, and I had to keep moving.  I had to get out of here while he was content to believe, I was still tied up and delirious with pain.  I tried the handle, relieved that it was unlocked, though it caught and I had to jiggle it.  I exchanged hands and decided to rely on my left, the ‘amputation’ was cleaner and I still hand that index finger.  My right hand was already swollen and difficult to work. 

 “Who’s there?  Is somebody there?  Come closer.”

A voice drifted from the next room.  I pushed the second door open and shut it softly behind me as I scanned the copious shadows.  The only source of light was a lamp standing beside a bed, where a body lay in a pool of blood.  I navigated between upturned beds, a few broken wheelchairs to the voice as it called out again.

“I’m not a patient.  I’m an executive.  Just like him.”  He groaned as he shifted in his restraints.  “Like Trager.”

He looked no different than the others, mangled and vivisection scars all over his body, he had endured the second phase of basement torture.  His head was cradled awkwardly in a cloth sling, and his limbs tied to the beds legs.

“But he got the treatment.  He’s too alive.  Filled with Wernicke’s nightmares.”  I carefully slipped the cameras loop over my hand and raised it to film his confession.  “It worked too well.  They couldn’t control it….”  He seemed to notice me, and the camera.

“And you can’t control it.  Nobody.  Nobody!  NOBODY!”  I backed away towards a set of beds beside the wrecked wall, while he began to thrash at his straps.  “He’ll find you!  He’ll kill you!  He’s coming right now!”

As instant after I jerked my head rather painfully, when a door cracked open and in strolled the Doctor.  “TRAAGER!  TRAAAAAGERR!”

I dropped down and shuffled under the nearest bed, keeping my camera propped in my hands as the psycho continued his even stride towards the shrieking man.

“Ah.  I see what’s happening here.  You’re bored, you want a little attention.  Perfectly understandable.”  He indicated the man with a finger, as though explaining a rudimentary point.  “I’m here for you.  I’ll give you very special attention.”

Then plunged the large shears into his stomach.  I could actually hear the ribs crinkle under his skin and the soft gurgle of fluid as guts and blood swirled.  The executive gave a final shriek as Trager twisted the weapon deeper, then wrenched it free.  A thick black puddled formed under the bed, and the man’s body went limp, his head still dangled in the sling.  Trager departed, from my position I couldn’t make out exactly where he was headed.  Just in the direction he had appeared from.

A door opened and shut.  The silence held for a few seconds.  I pulled the camera to my neck and strained to listen, while fighting to ignore the mild ache building in my finger as it pressed into my collar.  The soft slap of warm fluid on a puddle slowed.

“Fuck!  Fuck!  Really?  You’re gonna walk on ME?”  I tightened up into a small ball and shoved myself further back under the beds end.  The door rattled as Trager returned to the room, and slapped it shut behind him.  “If there is one thing I cannot GOD DAMN stand, it’s a quitter!  Come on!”  Somehow, I managed to curl up into an even smaller ball, with my head tucked under my knees.

“Alright…alright, you can figure this out.  Let’s…solve this little problem.”  The echoing rasp of the shears seemed magnified on the walls, as he moved around searching, snipping them every now and then.  I winced but relaxed all in the same instant when I realized he hadn’t found me, I raised my head to scan what was visible from where I lay and locate where he was.

He navigated the rooms perimeter checking over the broken beds stacked around the pillars, when it was obvious I wouldn’t be in plain sight he began stooping down to check under beds.

“All those bureaucrats with their corporate luncheons and golden parachutes.  Where are the survivors?  Where are the sharks?”  He wandered into the half of the room I was in and checked under a bed by the far wall.  “I’ve been chumming the water long enough.”

There was a door just beside the bed I was under.  While Trager lowered to check under the next bed, I took my chance and climbed out trying the knob.

Locked.

I crawled back under the bed, as Trager raised and sauntered to the next bed.  I didn’t bother to pause, and continued to the other side still crouched down as I hustled to the next bed.  I chided myself for being too noisy, for not keeping low enough.  I wanted–

“Hold up there buddy!”  Fuck.  I launched up to my feet, shoving off the bed post and ran for the large doors.  “I’ll be right with you!”

I dove out of the room turning, checking with the camera.  A dead end of medical tables and shelving.  Blocked.  We came through here, the trail of blood from the elevator was all over the floor.  The way out!

I dashed away, ignoring the patient thrashing in his bed shrieking at my appearance.  The noise elevated my anxiety, mind racing, I could scarcely recall my movement as images clashed with the short journey from the elevator.  I would be next, I was next.  I was in the process of becoming a victim! 

My shoes skid on the dried blood as I shot around the corner, the bright doors of the open elevator in full view.  Screw this!  I was out, so out!  I don’t give a fuck where Trager was, he couldn’t touch me once those doors shut.  The outdated lift shifted as I leapt inside and smashed the button without a second glance. 

Nothing happened.  What was wrong?  We had power! What could…  I touched the panel with my left hand, there was a thin slot beneath the buttons.  For a key most likely.

“Let me sell you the dream!”

“Argh!”  I lunged out of the elevator and twisted toward the only available route.  There was a gate with large shelving shoved against it, all on the other side.  My attention then went to a blood drenched gurney, and the wet vent dripping above it.  Without hesitation I sprung up the step, into the small space and dragged myself into the safety of the metal cradle. 

I hissed when I adjusted the camera, before I could drop it in the sudden black.  The bone sticking out on my index finger amplified every little bump, waves of heat rolled through my traumatized nerves with acute precision.  I had to deal with it, if I couldn’t do that then I might as well stop running now.  I didn’t pause as I roughly searched my way along, my free hand twisted sideways against the floor to ease the pain through my knuckles as I entrusted my weight on it.  I was more or less leaning forward, anxious to find a way out if that sick freak was able to follow me up.  It didn’t seem he could.  But it did look like someone had tried to escape the same route, with less than successful results.

The next flue was torn out, and I peered down trying to see as much of below as I could, and listened for movement and those shears.  Once I felt eased there was nothing living, I slipped down into the hall.  Light I recognized gleamed from an obstructed gate, scooting along the wall I glimpsed around the corner into the room with the elevator.  There had to be another way out, a set of stairs somewhere.  A gondola?

The floor creaked under my steps, it looked to be an older section of the asylum with outdated wood floors with evident gaps between the boards.  I gave my perimeter a quick scan, wondering where Trager had disappeared to when I had eluded him.  He could have been locked in that room now, unless he was strong enough to push the metal shelf aside.  The wheels were stationary, I doubt he’d get the leverage to push it over and aside.

I sat down on the floor with my back to the shelf, and set the camera beside me.  In the little light I reevaluated my hands.  They looked terrible, and the tremors had yet to diminish but I was probably in shock, or just scared out of my wits.  I pressed my palms together and focused on calming my nerves.  The asylum made strange sounds behind the walls, the groan of machinery I couldn’t comprehend and pipes gurgled.  And there was the trademark shriek of a man lost in this insane environment.  I felt drained, more than that, there wasn’t an accurate description for what I’d call what my body felt.  Transparent maybe?  It was vague, I felt fragile enough.  I was constantly reminded of my mortality via physical and mental abuse, and each time I received the threat the distance I ran from it shortened.  I pulled my arms around my sides and sat for a few minutes, examining the area.

A dark corridor loomed directly across from me, but of what I could make out, it might be another dead end.  To my left was a long hall with functioning lamps, a few beds stacked along the sides, and a small broken desk.  It wasn’t frigid as the lower levels had been, but in my damp coat I trembled.  I was on the verge of collapse.

 “TRAGER.  Sick fucker cut my fingers off.  Has tortured and mangled dozens of patients, I watch him murder another one, nothing I can do about it.  Talks like a white collar business school douchebag, probably has a set of golf clubs in the trunk of his Audi.  I’d bet the rest of my fingers he was Murkoff brass before whatever’s infected this place changed him.

 I want out of this place.  I want my fucking fingers back.  I want to see Trager die.”

I wrote this with all the conviction I could muster.  Though I doubted I’d get my wish, if given the opportunity, and I had a chance - a legitimate chance - I probably would try to murder him.  He needed to die, and that’s what I wanted.

The page had a few smears of blood and a couple fingerprints despite my efforts, I really didn’t bother to clean my remaining fingers before fumbling with it.  I carefully slipped these items back into the pocket and zipped it tight.  With my nerves smoothed out to some degree, I took up my camera before climbing to my feet and gazed into the lite hallway. My progress was excruciatingly slow, and every shift or sound that reached my ears was mistaken for footfalls or the scrape of grungy shears.  I imagined taking a few steps and blinking, and there he would be with that horrible weapon perched neatly behind his back as he waited for my brain to register his presence.

I realized my breath was labored, I tried to calm it but my heart was pounding.  It hurt too much to fight it, the anxiety only elevating the red seeping from what remained of my fingers.  For some time I stood staring into the hall without a prompt or objective, just waiting for a sound or something to happen, but nothing did.  I was on the brink of bolting, if the doctor or any other variant decided to reveal them self.  Where was I?  I was so fucking lost.  It was impossible to focus on a single objective, I couldn’t imagine myself moving on.

Yet I did.

The floor gave thunderous creak as I shifted and began forward, through a set of open doors that seemed irrelevant to the layout.  Hospitals had a lot of doors, but this wasn’t a legitimate hospital.  This was the hospital of hell.  Another pair were locked on my right, I fooled with the handles a bit shoving with my elbow where the doors met as they seemed flimsy from their age.  I crept close to the wall and tried the next set of doors, locked fast.  A sudden clatter caused me to pause, but I never figured out what it was or if I’d actually heard something.  Maybe just the shadow in my thoughts.

I didn’t feel comfortable in full view of the light as I continued, passing two large rooms on the left, each filled with beds and ‘hospital’ equipment.  From the doorway I could view very little with the dim light, but I wanted to save my batteries anyway.  The soft voices trickled from the gloom, moans and occasional sobbing.  In the second room, abandoned under a bright lamp was what remained of a man lying on a bloodied gurney, his leg bolted into some sort of brace.  Blood coated the metal device, spilling down his thigh.  A chill ran down my spine, and I turned to the end of the hall where two metal beds had been stacked, the one on top was flipped over with its sharp feet sticking up.  On it a few boxes and tools had been piled in.

“Aw, buddy.  What are you trying to do?”  I whirled about and crouched low, where the hell was he?  Where did he come from!  “I gave you a chance, didn’t I?  Didn’t old Rick try to give you a hand?”  There, concealed by shadows he emerged from the double doors that were previously locked.  I slunk backwards biting my lip to withhold a pitiful sound.  Oblivious to my shape, he turned the opposite way towards the shelving at the halls end.  “I can’t help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped.  You’re fired.”

I think the big ugly fucker made more sense than him.

I tried to mirror his movements as I slipped through the open door and backed up into the shadows, gaze locked on the golden rectangle the door cast.  I stumbled and pivoted when I had backed into a pillar, I used it to steady myself as I stood to shuffle around it.  The only light was in the ceiling, shining directly down on the man.  What was Trager trying to do?  This was nothing more than torture, cruel and pointless.  Two bags of blood were suspended beside his bed, they looked old and the contents an ugly chunky black consistency.

The patient gave an inconsolable wail and sat up, struggling with his leg.  “If you touch me again I swear to fucking Christ I will murder you with my mind.  Just fucking try it.  You sick motherfucker!  Try it!  Try it!”

I had stepped a little closer gawking at him.  I couldn’t help but feel a massive swell of pity, it was obvious he was hopelessly doomed.  Trager would keep performing his oper— Mutilations, until he was dead.  I wasn’t sure what I could do.  Not sure if I wanted to do anything, either.

“Buddy!”

I didn’t see where he was coming from, but it sounded like he was directly behind me.  I shot past the patient, skidding around his bed as Trager rounded on the other side.  We made another lap around before I sprint off toward the back off the room, dragging up the camera to keep from running into the numerous beds scattered about.  Nearly all of them were occupied by a patient, chained down in various conditions of mutilation.  The sharp bolt of rot hit me hard, informing that some had already expired.

When Trager caught up to me, he slung out the shears nearly catching my head as I ducked sideways over a bed.  I tumbled and swept up, leaping over an empty bed and ran for a door on one side of the room.  It resembled the one in the first room I escaped which had been locked, but this one snapped open easily.

I jerked the door after me, stumbling away as Trager slammed into it.  He gave me a displeased look as he reached down for the handle, I practically dropped my camera in my haste to take it and snap the door out of his grip. 

Rather fool around further, Trager lifted the shears and plunged them into the wood, I stumbled back as they pierced two feet before he withdrew them and smashed his bony shoulder against the wood.  I took a step back, picked up my camera, and ran.

That wouldn’t hold for long.

The connecting room was no bigger, but it was less crowded.  With patients, that is.  A few lamps were set up by cots, and swarms of roaches and flies hummed over the dried pools of blood and melting piles of innards.  My stomach wrenched as the insects crunched under shoe, oh god I hope it was bugs.  The sounds at the door had ceased, and I ducked under the nearest bed.

I struggled not to lie directly in a quivering mess of insects, but it was an impossible goal.  Several tense minutes wound by, I lay there tormented by the little buggers trying to crawl over me and my face.  When I thought Trager had entered, I pulled up the camera.  Something was pinching my finger, I looked through the visor to see a large roach camped on my sleeve, and EATING my finger.

“Somebody has to win and somebody has to lose here, I don’t make the rules.”

Cringing, I flecked the bug away and tucked my free hand against my neck.  Trager came from the other doorway, padding along the bloody tiled floor scanning the wary shadows for my form.  He snipped the scissors as he rotated, the lamp light caught his monocle making it glimmer like a silver disk, reminiscent to something from one of those sinister characters in a Japanese comic.

I heard something rattle, and turned the camera to view an arm chained at the bed post I was under.  Another patient, his hand gripped at the bar as he twitched.  I couldn’t decide if he was trying to reveal my position, or if he was just struggling to free himself.  Trager seemed oblivious to his actions, now focused on checking under beds.  The inhospitable nature of my location may have moved it next to last on his checklists of areas to search, or I was just lucky this time.

I slipped away from the insect nest and kept low, buried in shadows as the doctor continued in the other direction to check a patient that looked very dead.  The self-absorbed bastard could just be admiring his own work.  If he was distracted, all the better.  I paused to make sure he wasn’t looking my way, then slipped under a halo of light on the floor and out the open doors.

Back in the hall, without incident.  I still wasn’t any closer to figuring a way out of this area.  Let alone where exactly I was.  There was the gate in the dark corridor, maybe it was unlocked.  I doubted it, but it was the only area left unchecked.

I crept quietly back to the hall, using the NV to see where I was going.  There was a hall extending beyond the door a ways out of my cameras range, but the gate was locked.  Surprise, surprise.  Turning, I thought about the room I began in, beyond the shelf and gate.  The key could’ve been there, but it was evident it could just as easily be anywhere else.  Trager had access to it as he did the double doors, it was most likely somewhere safe.  But it couldn’t be on his person….

The sound of snipping drifted from the hall, and I spun to see Trager coming towards me.  I dashed into the dark corridor and tried the boarded door at the far end, though I knew damn well it was pointless.  I ducked behind a bed flipped sideways and shut off my camera.  I could see the end of the hall and the silhouette of Trager as he appeared, I put one hand over my mouth to smother my breathing.  He closed in on my location and I prepared to dash, but he halted a mere few feet away and snipped the shears in aggravation.

“I should have cut his feet first,” he sighed, and pivoted.  “Amateur move.”

I didn’t think he saw me, but he could’ve been fucking with me.  No sound flittered from the corridors end, was it possible for him to shut up for a minute?  I went ahead and moved, crawling around the overturned bed with the camera clutched in hand.  Reaching the shadows edge, I strained to see around while listening for his obnoxious voice.  No sign of Trager.

Oh, I did see him down the hall, heading into one of the rooms.  Looked like the first one, because there was that bed between the two and he was on my side.

Few options were open to me.  While Trager was elsewhere, I stood and braced myself to the metal shelf.  Blood was still slick over my palms, I made a small effort to scrub it off on my coat and not risk slipping and ripping my hands up further.  That sharp pain rippled up my side as I pushed, like an old friend I’d missed for years.  Hm. 

I was disappointed by how easily the door swept open, I don’t know why.  I wasn’t feeling too good at the current time, despite my outstanding health.  I shut the door and moved past the elevator with its welcoming light.  Damn, asylums, and their keys and locked doors.  There were too many locked doors in this place, and when they weren’t locked there was always something terrible and evil on the other side.

There was nothing in the dark corridors end, only a locked door and a poor man tied to his bed begging me to end his life.  I pretended I couldn’t understand what he was saying, and I didn’t film him either.  Revisiting the room where Trager had left me offered nothing, I didn’t expect it to either.  I was running out of places to search, though desperation was never an excuse for dumb theories. 

I had paused in the next room musing over matters while the peace held, and regarded the barred windows with some interest.  They were clearly outdated, when compared to the previous section of the asylum I had explored with the Plexiglas and thick chicken wire.  It didn’t enlighten me to my whereabouts, only that this section was built before 1970 before it was shut down, and Murkoff built the modern sections to suffice the needs of their ‘physicians’.

It looked like someone had already tried to tear the thick bars off, or shoot them off.  Bullets had punched through the windows accented with thin cracks, the plaster was somewhat crumbling from where they did hit the wall.  I gripped the bars in my hands and shook them, but they were locked solid in cement.

A small wood nightstand sat beside the bloodied bed.  I ignored the executive as I picked it up and returned to the window.  Poised a safe distance back, I heaved the small piece of furniture to smash against the bars.  The wood burst into pieces, and the window suffered some minor damage, another hairline crack.

There was an assortment of furniture and beds still piled around the pillars.  I selected a small table and threw it against the window, it bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor.  A piece of plywood was jammed through, tearing out the glass and let the rain pour in with a frigid gale.  I went back for a wheelchair, another side table, anything I could lift and throw was driven against the barred window.  I took the light from beside the dead patient and tore the cord from the socket it was plugged into, and smashed the lamp it against the bars over and over.  When it was in twisted pieces I threw it aside, and stepped up to the window staring into the dark night.

A crack of thunder bellowed forth and the lightening flashed over the asylum’s grounds.  I wanted out of this place so bad, it hurt somewhere deep in my body.  Everything that was me would die here if I couldn’t escape this hell.  Alone, crumpled in some corner, broken and waiting for death.  That would be me, if I stopped running.  If everything in me just stopped.

My face felt wet and I recalled the blood that was there.  I used my left hand to rub away at the mist but didn’t bother to look.  I had been in bad situations before, had my life threatened on several occasions.  Probably deserved it, too….

But this was impossible.  This was incomprehensible.  I slipped to my knees as I stared up into the night, the rain cast silver beads into the thin light of the room.  That same wave of helplessness crashed through my senses, unfamiliar and strange.  I’d never felt this way before.  Never in all my life.  Was this what it felt like to die?  I think so.  A few years ago I had been in an accident, hurt so bad I didn’t know who the people were that stared down at me screaming questions.  I was oblivious at the time, a massive concussion and some hemorrhaging.  As everything faded I thought I was dying.  I had surrendered to death.

With a twist I realized I had not been dying.  I was hurt, confused, but there were people that would not let me die.  What was different was my capacity to appreciate my current awareness, and witness myself crumble from the inside out.  In a sense I was dying, while I fought to see the end of this.  Somehow, I was doing the whole process backwards.  I’m pretty sure you weren’t meant to do that, which would explain my situation now.  I had the sudden urge to throw more furniture against the window, but couldn’t find the strength to rise.  I wanted to sit here and stare, and think, and enjoy the cool breeze from the outside as it teased my face.  There was so much I wanted.

The executive shifted in his restraints.  Immediately, my mind cued in on this redundant detail. 

The executive was dead.

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 8: A Joker’s Way

// Previous Chapters //

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x Original female character

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: The SVU squad get their hands on a problematic case that leaves tension between certain members of the squad and ADA.

At the D.A.'s building, it was pretty much an established rule that quietness be a constant thing so that all employees could work at their best. Needless to say that a four year old girl running down a corridor, shouting for her aunt, wasn't the best way to get work done.

"Aunt Montse! Aunt Montse!" the brunette girl ran straight into Detective Novak's arms. Her big, blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Hey, Ivana!" Montserrat chuckled as she spun her niece around in a hug. "How's my favorite niece doing?"

Ivana Novak was eager to show a smile for her aunt. "I helped aunt Casey clean her office!"

"Clean her office?" Montserrat repeated with less enthusiasm and more suspicion. She glanced to see the ADA herself while she was closing her office door.

Ivana nodded her head. "I did a good job!"

Casey turned to meet the two with a less than happy expression. "You're late," she practically spat at her cousin. She didn't even wait to hear what Montserrat had to say and just started heading for the entrance doors.

"Hey! Nice to see you too!" Montserrat called and went after Casey, though holding Ivana like she was an infant made her slower.

"Stop yelling," Casey hissed. "And put her down. She's four!"

"And a half!" Ivana reminded with a chuckle.

Montserrat knew Casey also had a soft spot for Ivana so she didn't understand why Casey was being so...extra lawyer rude. The Novaks weren't known for their big families. Ivana and her older sister were but the few third generation Novaks in the city.

"Hey, I got here as fast as I could. I do have a job," Montserrat's reminder didn't help her.

Casey whirled around, nearly bumping into her and Ivana. "You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. I have court today!"

"I'm sorry-"

"-Gael said you would be here on time that's why I told him I could pick her up," Casey briefly looked at the four year old who was watching both women's expressions.

"I'm sorry," Montserrat was also aware Ivana was watching them. The last thing they wanted was for the girl to tell her father all about her aunts arguing in front of her. "I had to talk to Liv first and there was traffic."

Casey of course knew Montserrat wouldn't purposely make her late for court, but it didn't mean it was less annoying. "Gael needs to hire a babysitter. Full time."

"I don't want a babysitter," Ivana frowned. "Jules says they'll be mean."

"Your sister lies," Casey bluntly revealed to her. Montserrat disapprovingly shook her head but that didn't stop Casey from continuing. "Next time she says that, tell her aunt Casey will put her in jail for lying."

"Oh, Casey!" Montserrat had to draw the line but Casey just smiled while Ivana giggled behind her hand.

"I really gotta go," the ADA soon reminded them. "Tell Gael I'll talk to him later."

"Bye aunt Casey!" Ivana waved with her hand that wasn't looped around Montserrat's neck. "Next time I come I can show you my drawings right?"

Casey's thin eyebrows shot upwards while a tight smile spread across her face. "Sure thing."

"You are awful," Montserrat notified the woman before she left.

Ivana waved Casey until she'd left through the doors. "Are you going to babysit?" she scrunched her face at Montserrat. "Because I don't need a babysitter."

Montserrat laughed quietly. "Right. I forgot you were thirteen, as New York law states only then can a child stay at home on their own."

Ivana tilted her head at at her aunt. "What?"

"C'mon, grandpa will be watching you."

Ivana beamed and clapped her hands. "Grandpa!? I'll show him all my drawings I made at school!"

"Yeah, I bet he'll be a lot nicer than your aunt Casey was," Montserrat knew her father was a sucker for children. It was why he catered to his only two granddaughters like there was no tomorrow.

"Novak!" Rafael's call stopped her just as she'd opened the building's door. "I didn't know you were here but Olivia called..." He was coming towards her in a hasty stride but trailed off when Montserrat turned around and he saw Ivana still clinging to her. "Oh look, a child." Montserrat playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Why are you holding a child?" Rafael saw no parent around and he would remember if a co-worker had a daughter.

"Because said child is my niece and why do you call her 'child' like that?" Montserrat asked with bemusement. "Her name's Ivana and she's my niece. Ivana, say hello to my friend, Rafael."

Ivana wiggled her fingers at him and dutifully greeted him. "Hi! You dress funny like aunt Casey."

"Shhhh…" Montserrat gently lowered Ivana's head to rest on her shoulder. Rafael's lips stretched into an amused smile at the little girl. Montserrat awkwardly cleared her throat and of course excused her niece. "She thinks formal dressing is funny. Four year olds, what can we do. Is there something you needed?"

"Uh, yeah, for everyone to work," Rafael's expression told her this should've been obvious to her. Still, he figured she had something else to do at the moment.

"You're a workaholic, and I say that with care," Montserrat sarcastically said. "I'll be back later after I drop this one off."

"My name is Ivana," the girl in question purposely pronounced her name in a slow manner.

"Looks like someone else isn't amused by your sarcasm," Rafael smiled at Ivana who looked dead serious in her correction.

"Yeah, yeah, form a team why don't you," Montserrat rolled her eyes. "I have to go. Olivia was understanding and kind enough to give me some time off."

"Is everything alright?" Rafael found himself asking when she turned for the door. Since she had Ivana still clinging onto her, he moved forwards and opened the door for her.

"Yes, yes, my brother's babysitter just quit on him and he couldn't pick Ivana up from preschool," Montserrat finally put Ivana down after stepping out of the building. It was a windy day and she didn't want to trip with her niece on account of some hair strands getting in her face.

"I go to school in the morning and then Caitlin picks me up. And today I wrote my Daddy a letter with pictures that I drew - you wanna see?" Ivana proudly said, her hands reaching for her backpack's straps over her shoulders.

Despite knowing how the four year girl's drawings must look, Rafael still gave her a surprised reaction. "I'm betting they're great and your dad's going to love them, but I have to go."

"Where?" frowned Ivana.

"My work just called me so next time, okay?" he looked down at Ivana and offered his best smile for her. "You could even give them to your aunt Montse - or Casey - since I work with both of them."

"Ivana, next time," Montserrat tugged on the girl's hand, shooting Rafael a thankful smile. She didn't think him to have much patience with kids after seeing him in court a couple times. Even when he was at the precinct he showed very little patience with the squad.

"Okay," Ivana sighed like any four year old would when she didn't get her way.

Montserrat turned Ivana for the street, holding onto the girl's hand tightly. "I'll see you and the squad later."

Rafael nodded and let her go. He watched as she took Ivana down the stairs while the little girl rambled on no doubt about that letter with drawings. A smile came back to his face without thinking.

~0~

"Grandpa!" Ivana's shouts filled her living room the moment Montserrat had opened the door of her brother's apartment.

A tall, ginger-haired man took Ivana into his arms. Thomas Novak was always happy to see one of his grandaughters. "My girl!"

"Aunt Montse said you were going to babysit me today!" Ivana planted a kiss on her grandfather's cheek.

"She told the truth," Thomas smiled at his daughter. He straightened up on his feet and hugged Montserrat. "Hi sweetheart."

"Hi, Dad," Montserrat smiled and hugged her father back. Ivana rushed towards the sofa to get her backpack and sweater off.

"It's been a long time, Montse," Thomas pulled away from her daughter and gave her a knowing look. Montserrat did her best to just smile awkwardly and keep it all under the ruse of work getting in the way. "It's been almost a year, Montserrat," his voice turned sharp just like it usually would whenever Montserrat or her brother would be getting in trouble.

"You know my line of work is a very busy one," Montserrat shrugged casually.

"Grandpa! Look!" Ivana had returned holding a paper over her head. "I wrote a letter for my Daddy! Do you want to see it?"

Thomas bent down in front of the girl. "Grandpa will see everything you did today at school, but first let me talk to your aunt Montse. Why don't you go wash your hands so we can have lunch, okay?"

Ivana nodded her head and ran back to the living room to leave her letter then headed for the hallway.

"Dad, I can't stay to talk much. My boss only gave me some time to make the drive to and back," Montserrat started making her way for the door but she knew she'd been crazy to think her father would let her leave so easily.

As a single parent, Thomas Novak had to develop a strict parenting dynamic to take care of his two kids back then. Despite them now being adults, it seemed like he still had to hang onto that tactic. "Montserrat, you've moved three times in this year. What was that all about?"

"Just...wanted a new change," Montserrat shrugged once again.

"You left your job in Queens - that was a great job, wasn't it?" Something twisted in Montserrat's face. Thomas picked up on it in that instant. It was as if disgust couldn't fill her eyes fast enough. "Wasn't it?" he asked again, but Montserrat only shrugged. "Montserrat, you'll have to do more than just shrug. I am asking you questions-"

"-Dad, I just wanted a change! I'm 29 going on 30 soon. It's just a midlife crisis," Montserrat laughed on purpose to throw her father off.

It seemed to work because Thomas laughed afterwards. "Sweetie, that happens when you're forty."

"The '2' will change into a '3'. It hits now," Montserrat pointed an index finger down. She soon garnered a smile and shook her head. "Dad, seriously, I just wanted to change jobs. I liked SVU before and now that I'm actually working there...I do like it."

"Where are you living now?"

"With Kara Mackie. You remember her, right?"

"Yeah, her brother was the one with the massive hair, right?"

Montserrat laughed. "Damian had nice hair."

"Too long if you asked me," huffed her father, but Montserrat shook her head.

"Dad!"

"Fine, fine. But Kara...you alright there? I'm sure Gael wouldn't mind giving you a space here. Or I could even help you-"

"Dad," Montserrat put her hands on her father's shoulders, looking him in his dark eyes, "Gael has no rooms here and we're not going to even discuss putting Ivana and Jules in the same bedroom - they'd both end up dead before the night - and you don't have another room. Plus, Kara's in Manhattan and it's a lot easier to get to work from there."

Thomas could agree with that logic. Still, it didn't mean he liked it. "I've never had you so far away."

"C'mon, Dad. Manhattan is like right next door…" Montserrat trailed off when her father gave her a look. "Alright, but it's not far, really. I like living with Kara and I'm still searching for a place of my own anyways."

"I don't like having my only daughter out in the next city!"

"Oh but I bet you wouldn't be putting up all this if it was Gael," Montserrat playfully crossed her arms.

"You're my little girl-"

"-I'm 29!"

Thomas put his hands up in defeat, but he still added a minute later, "You can be fifty and still be my little girl."

Montserrat laughed lightly. "Alright, Dad, I gotta go. My boss is incredibly understanding but I'm still new so I don't want to push it."

"I'll be stopping by, don't you think I'm gonna leave you unsupervised," Thomas' warning didn't surprise Montserrat. She just nodded and told him he was welcomed any time (with a proper heads up).

~ 0 ~

"Hey, where've you been?" Fin asked when Montserrat returned to SVU later in the day.

"Dropping off my niece back in Queens," Montserrat pulled her coat off and draped it on the back of her desk chair.

"So your niece - which goes to a school in Queens - was brought here and then you brought her back home...in Queens?" Nick swayed his head as he thought about all the travelling that was entailed.

Montserrat playfully rolled her eyes at him. "My brother's babysitter quit this morning without a decent amount of notice. Casey was already in Queens so she just brought her to the DAs until my Dad could get out of work and take care of her."

"Your sister-in-law couldn't take care of her?" Fin question made Montserrat sigh.

"She died last year," Montserrat noticed the guilt that immediately filled the two detectives. "Oh, I didn't mean that as something to make you feel bad. Laurel was in accident and...my brother's trying his best but raising two girls on his own isn't easy."

"I can get that," Nick gave a light shrug, now instigating Montserrat to question him with a look. "I'm divorced. Zara comes to visit me on weekends and sometimes weekdays but even then...being on my own, it's difficult."

"I try to help where I can so I just took Ivana home," Montserrat looked around for Sonny and Amanda but she only noticed Olivia speaking with a young woman in the interview room. "Did I miss something? I thought we'd interviewed the witnesses from the flower shop already…?"

"Oh no, that's a done deal," Fin exchanged smirks with Nick. "Barba had a Christmas day with that case."

"A first solid case, that's grounds for celebration," Montserrat agreed.

"Unfortunately this is SVU and we don't ever get to celebrate," Nick said, moving onto the new case at hand. "Liv's already got Carisi and Rollins questioning the guys."

"So we already have the statement?" Montserrat took a seat at her desk and wiggled her fingers for the information she needed to learn the new details of the case.

"Olivia's just making sure Renée knows what we're going to do next."

As it turned out, Renée's case was complicated from the very origin point of the attacker. When Renée was gone, the remaining detectives along started researching on the man Renée blamed her assault on.

"This guy is disgusting," Montserrat crinkled her nose after only watching a video of Josh Galloway for a minute. "Josh Galloway actually makes a living off telling rape jokes?" Her stomach churned as she thought to the beginning of the year. This man was rich because he decided to make fun of one of the most horrendous acts humans can do?

"According to many - and I mean many - magazines, he's one of the top comedians," Nick had decided to make his own research away from videos and just stuck to articles online.

"Society is screwed up," Montserrat decided Nick had the right idea and closed her laptop for the moment. "And that man, yeah, I despise him."

"Renée claims that if it wasn't for this guy, the two guys who assaulted never would have acted," Fin looked back at the notes Olivia left for them. "She says he actually egged them on after she made a disruption to protest."

"Can we lock him up? Please tell me we can lock him up," Montserrat's wishes were heard by the Sergeant who was coming out of her office looking none too pleased.

"According to Barba, that can't happen because of the first amendment," she slipped her phone into her pants pocket.

"I revoke my like," Montserrat walked back to her desk.

"There's nothing we can do?" Nick asked, sounding a bit doubtful that this was the ending of Renée's case.

Olivia swayed her head while she considered the options. "Maybe we can decide that after we talk to Galloway himself."

Olivia Benson was never one to waste time. She took Fin with her to visit Josh Galloway and at least warn him he was on SVU's watch.

~0~

"Hey, fancy meeting you here," Kara laughed as Montserrat crossed the doors of her salon. Montserrat looked around and saw Kara was just cleaning up after a day's work. "Looking for a trim?" Kara grabbed scissors from a table and zipped in the air.

Montserrat grabbed both ends of her hair and took a step backwards. "Not tonight I don't."

"I bet you'd look hot with a haircut…"

"Are you saying I don't look hot right now?"

Kara smirked and put the scissors down. "Alright, alright. Give me a second so I can finish. I didn't expect you to stop by."

"I wasn't," Montserrat admitted, stuffing her hands inside her pockets. "It's just there's this guy we're keeping an eye on and my Sergeant got the idea to actually go watch one of his shows. And I said no, so I'm here."

"She just let you go?"

"She's cool like that."

Kara chuckled. She hadn't met Olivia, or really anyone else besides Sonny and Rafael (if a drunken moment even qualified) but she had heard various things about each member. "So who's your guy?"

"Some comedian, Josh Galloway, who makes rape jokes for a living. We think him and his act from two days ago is responsible for a girl being assaulted by two of his fans."

Kara stopped to show her disgusted face. "Ugh. I hate that guy."

Montserrat paused and stared at her roommate. "How do you know him?"

"He's been on talk shows and he's one of society's most eligible bachelors."

"You have got to be kidding me," Montserrat actually felt sick. How could this man ever be considered something else than a prude and a vile creature.

"Wish I was," Kara passed the ginger to put away a couple of hair sprays inside a cabinet piece. "But even then, can an comedian be held responsible for how an audience responds to his material?"

Montserrat hated the question because it was the same reason why Rafael wasn't helping them at the moment. She knew it rang a truth that no one could deny but it was just something Josh was using to keep his act alive. "He's using his right of free speech to egg these people on. He has to be stopped."

"It's not like I don't know that," Kara sarcastically said while dumping a couple hair brushes into a plastic bin. "But won't that be tricky?"

"So tricky that our ADA practically laughed in my Sergeant's face when she told him they were going to one of Josh's shows."

Kara had her own mini-laugh at the thought of that. "Yeah, he does the seem the type…"

Montserrat shrugged. Olivia had been kind enough to give the detectives the option of coming along to see Josh's show. Montserrat felt her stomach churn just at the thought of stepping into a place that condoned jokes like Josh's.

"You want to have dinner out today? A customer recommended it today," Kara went straight for the counter to collect her belongings. "It's a little French restaurant with a dessert menu consisting of brownies."

"You had me at brownies," Montserrat nodded for the doors in a hurry.

Kara laughed. She knew Montserrat would agree just by hearing the name of her favorite dessert. "Alright, Montse. Let me take you out tonight."

"Taking me on a date?" Montserrat put a hand over her chest, dramatically happy.

"Platonic. Sorry honey, you're not my type," Kara swung her keys around her index finger. "You need to be five inches taller, Italian, a man, and have a cute little accent."

Montserrat let her head hang in shame on behalf of her roommate when she figured Kara meant Sonny. "Please leave my co-worker alone."

"It's free game until he says no," Kara passed her with a triumphant smirk. She pushed her blonde hair behind her shoulders and adjusted her red coat. She pushed open the doors of the salon and turned to Montserrat, nodding her to go already. "C'mon. My treat."

Montserrat never turned down free food, especially when there were brownies involved.

~0~

At least the visit to Galloway's show hadn't been a waste. A young woman, Carly, had stepped forwards with an accusation against Josh Galloway himself. Unfortunately, even with the preliminary evidence - while awaiting for co conclusive evidence - there still wasn't enough to start a real case.

"Nick, any luck on tracking those gift bags?" Olivia stopped by the Detective's desk while he was conducted a search on his computer.

"Well, it'd be a lot easier if we had his business records," Nick's sourness was shared by the rest of the detectives.

"Why is Barba seriously being this difficult?" Montserrat could've answered her own question but Amanda spoke up first.

"Get used to it," the blonde detective gave a brief smile before returning to her work.

Montserrat made a tilt of her head upon finding something that could potentially be useful for them. "Listen, out of the 120 bookings Josh had in the last year, he only cancelled one," her eyes squinted a bit as she skimmed along her screen. "It was in Albany. Now, the student union guy was pissed off, said that the police held him up at his previous gig in New Paltz."

Interested, Olivia moved to stand behind Montserrat's chair and leaned forwards to see the screen herself. "Okay, the new paltz P.D."

"It only confirms that they questioned Galloway about an accusation but that D.A. didn't press charges either," Montserrat shook her head. "So is everyone afraid of this guy?"

"It says the girl recanted," Olivia straightened on her feet and pointed at Montserrat then Sonny. "Go find out why."

~0~

Sonny and Montserrat followed their only lead to a young woman's small apartment. Even at first glance, the girl seemed troubled and it became even more so when she learned she was meeting two detectives.

"I shouldn't be talking to you," she said despite letting them into her apartment.

"Was that part of your deal for the diamond watch, Audrey?" Sonny's question visibly made the woman pause on her way into the hallway.

"Josh was just being nice."

"When he raped you?" Montserrat blurted and immediately regretted it. It was completely inappropriate and plain unsympathetic. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the woman after a minute. "What happened, Audrey?"

Audrey hugged herself and seemed to have trouble keeping her eyes on the detectives' level. "I was drunk. It was just rougher than I'm used to. Everybody likes it differently, I guess. I think he thought it was normal."

"Because he gave you a gift bag?"

"How did you know about that?"

Montserrat and Sonny exchanged a look between each other before Sonny answered. "You're not the first one to accuse him. Now, did you happen keep the bag?"

"I can't talk about it," Audrey turned away, though it was clear she wished she could.

Montserrat tried going in a different route to help both sides out. "There's nothing in your nondisclosure agreement about showing us what was in that bag, was there?"

Audrey considered it for a moment then shook her head. She walked towards her bedroom, leading the two inside where they watched as she scouted for the bag inside a closet. "There's, like, $4 left on the I'avonique gift card, but the rest is untouched." She held the white bag towards them, looking ashamed as she held it.

"Might be enough to get us a warrant," Sonny grinned at the thought of that break while Montserrat took the bag.

~0~

"Turns out his gift cards are cheaper by the dozen. Galloway buys them in 12 packs," Olivia laid out their newest possessions for Rafael to see over his desk.

Behind her, both Montserrat and Sonny brought out the rest of their evidence. "I'avonique pulled the serial numbers for all the purchases and we traced the ones that were used to the recipients," Sonny added.

"Okay, we know he's got his share of groupies on the road. Any of them claiming rape?" Rafael's question made the three in question deliberately hesitate to answer for the first couple seconds.

Eventually, Montserrat was the one to answer. "Most of the girls I talked to on the phone said the sex was consensual, and a few said he was aggressive, but none felt comfortable pressing charges."

"Look, even if they were...there was no outcry. There's no charges filed. No judge will admit prior bad acts. It's more prejudicial than probative." Rafael made the motion to get his desk cleared off.

Montserrat frowned and glanced at Olivia. "I'm sorry, I thought he said he wanted a pattern. Is that not what we got?"

"We do, he's a bad guy and we have a complainant," Olivia's reminder still didn't convince the ADA.

"If I go after this guy, it's no slam dunk."

"I'm sorry, I thought you were supposed to be good," Montserrat knew the moment she made the statement she'd ended up in Rafael's bad graces, but the words seemed to be in a rush to get out from her mouth. "That is your reputation."

"I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear that simply because it's not worth arguing over," yet Rafael's expression was a warning for her to keep quiet from now on. His eyes flickered to Olivia and Sonny, both seeming on alert for an actual argument. "And it's not like I don't want to help, it's the details of the case. You are asking me to take a man to trial who will be using his first amendment right as a defense, apart from the fact he has no priors; one who will definitely be using your hassle for his jokes as another part of his defense and, to top it all off, the evidence is circumstantial at best. It's an automatic lose." It wasn't like he was purposely throwing away the case. Of course he wanted to help the girl - it was his job after all - but he liked being realistic. There was no point in doing something that he already knew the ending to. But it seemed like SVU still hadn't caught on yet.

Montserrat couldn't see it, so it really was out of her control when she blurted, "Right, so when the going gets tough you get going."

Rafael raised an eyebrow at her, barely clinging onto that patience he had for her simply because she was a family member of an ADA he actually liked. Still, he couldn't stop his glare at her as he rose from his chair. "You're still new Detective. You don't know what goes on-"

"-then show me," she challenged, and not at all quietly. Behind her, Olivia was debating when (and how) to cut in. "A hard case means no case at all? C'mon, even my last ADA wasn't this flakey."

"You are out of line, Novak-" Rafael started going around his desk only to have Olivia rush in. On the other side, Sonny went to keep Montserrat from meeting Rafael halfway. At Olivia's nod, he started leading Montserrat out the office doors.

"In her own fantastic manner, Montserrat has a point. This is the right thing to do," Olivia reasoned with Rafael in her usual, calm, yet stern, manner.

Rafael considered the case and all its details, and despite knowing he would need an extra bottle of aspirin (and maybe some Scotch) he gave in with a nod. "Fine. Go collect him."

"Thank you," Olivia gathered what they'd brought in and hurried out before Rafael changed his mind. As soon as she met with Montserrat and Sonny, she started her lecture Montserrat knew she deserved. "You can't do that, Montse. No matter how frustrating the case is-"

"-the case isn't what frustrated me. It was him," the ginger woman didn't hesitate to correct. "He's supposed to be good so why isn't he acting like it?"

"Rafael was right, you've only been here for a couple weeks. You don't know how cases can go, especially when they're this problematic," Olivia kept herself calm unlike their ADA. If someone just sat down and explained to Montserrat in a calm manner then Montserrat was sure to understand. She was a practicable, reasonable and professional woman after all.

"Tell us we at least got the go for it?" Sonny's question came half in part of his own desire to get Galloway and the other half to ease the tension.

Olivia nodded and set a hand on Montserrat's shoulder. "Go get him."

~ 0 ~

"Oh, no. What happened to the pretty blonde and the badass sergeant?" Josh Galloway recognized a detective a mile away and not for good reasons.

"Cut the crap," Montserrat snapped as she and Sonny came up to the man on the sidewalk.

"Oh, feisty!" Josh put a hand just beside his lips and whispered directly to Sonny. "You know what they say about the redheads - they're the wildest under the sheets."

Montserrat gaped at his utter rudeness but Sonny reacted and immediately turned the guy around. "Josh Galloway, you're under arrest for the rape of Carly Rydell."

Josh laughed despite feeling the metal of the cuffs around his wrists. "Who?"

Montserrat whipped a picture of Carly Rydell in his face as Sonny turned him towards their car. "And just an FYI: you won't be able to shut her up with a diamond watch."

Josh still had the audacity to laugh again even when the detectives led him towards their car. The detectives figured he was getting even more excited since a couple people were already watching them with potential recording phones. "Are you talking about new paltz? Audrey, that little chuckle slut. She recanted, and so will this girl."

"Yeah, not likely," Sonny was happy to say. He waited for Montserrat to open the backdoor of the car.

"Great, you guys want a political case? Fantastic. I'm the right guy-"

"Excellent, thanks for the admission," Montserrat stepped aside and watched Sonny stuff the man into the backseat. He slammed the door shut and turned to Montserrat.

"You okay?"

Montserrat nodded, preferring to forget Galloway's words. Despite her efforts, though, it still made her shiver.

The guy needed to be put away.

[joyful-soul-collector]

Amazing, Actually

Chapter 6: Scene 7 (Click here to read previous scenes!)

Last scene for this chapter guys! Hope you all like it!

Jace and Kita did their homework, Kita not-so-stealthily making sure Jace ate a healthy, filling snack. When they finished, Kita suggested Monopoly and each were in the middle of searching for a lost die when Kita’s parents walked in the door.

“Hey Papá! Hey Dad!” Kita called, her hand grasping under the couch. Jace looked up and hit his head on the bottom of the table where he was searching. He crawled out, rubbing his scalp as he stood.

“Hey Mr. and Mr. Mills. How goes it?”

“Jay, how many times have we told you to just call us Frank and Jose?” Frank said. 

Frank was a tall man with curly red hair, and evergreen eyes. His face had freckles scattered about his nose and cheeks, and his teeth were straight and white. Frank always seemed to be smiling, and it took a lot for him to get angry. Jace always liked that about him. Frank put down his keys and bag, while Jose shuffled through some mail.

“I think at least as many times as I’ve been here. Force of habit, sorry,” Jace said. 

“No no, it’s quite alright Jay. How was school you two?”

“Fine,” they both answered.

“Did you finish that late assignment Kita?” Jose asked in his slightly Spanish accent. Jose was a dark-skinned man with hair almost as black as Jace’s, had it not been for the few gray streaks. Jose was almost the complete opposite of Frank in terms of personality. Jose was straightforward and strict, and he didn’t smile nearly as much as Frank. But that just meant that when he did smile, it was much more special.

“Yes Papá,”  Kita answered.

“How was your weekend Jay?” Frank asked.

“Fine. Boring even,” he lied.

“Well, I hope your first day back was better,” said Jose.

“Eh, it was alright. Much better now that I’m home,” Jace said with a crooked grin. Frank beamed widely at the last word, and Jace could’ve sworn he saw a small smirk from Jose.

“Alright. Well Jose is going to make dinner, and I’m going to head to my office and work on some things for the shop,” said Frank. He walked over and hugged them both, which made Jace’s heart swell, and then walked into the hallway to his office.

“You two both finished your homework?” Jose asked sternly. 

“Yes Papá!” Kita groaned. 

“Just checking, mija. Go finish your little game, the surprise will be ready soon.” 

So Mr. Mills is in on this too? Jace thought. He watched Jose for a few moments as he took out a few cooking supplies and ingredients from the cupboard.

Jace turned to Kita with a small smile.

“So, the surprise is dinner?” 

“Dammit. You weren’t supposed to figure that out.” They sat back down at the table, Kita holding the no longer missing die.

“Not much of a surprise, considering I have dinner pretty much every time I come over here,” Jace said.

“Oh hush, it’s not dinner that’s the surprise, it’s what’s for dinner.”

“Ooooh, how mysterious. What is it?”

“What part of ‘surprise’, do you not understand?”

“The part where I’m supposed to wait and find out,” Jace whined. He laid his head on the table, pouting with his lip stuck out. “Waiting is the worst.”

“Yeah I know the feeling, as it’s been your turn for the last five minutes. Just roll the die!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I swear if I get into jail again I’m going to throw something.” He rolled the die and made his car piece jump a few spaces to Chance.

“You’re way too passionate about Monopoly,” Kita said.

“Shhhh I’m drawing a card.”

“Why does that require me to shut up?”

“I don’t know! Quit poking holes in my arguments!”

“You’d be a terrible lawyer.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being one, that shit takes way too much schooling.”

“True. But, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jace actually thought about this a lot, so he had an answer ready. 

“Well, I want to go to college, but I don’t know if that’s really an option. I’m keeping my grades as high as I can and I’m saving up a lot and I’m trying to get a full ride literally anywhere, but I mean who knows how well that’ll work out. If I can get into college, then I don’t really know what I want to do after. Maybe like an office job or something. That’d be nice. I’m not really picky. If I don’t end up being able to go, then I’ll just keep the job I have at the movie theater. Start working full time.” 

Jace sighed, and drew his pencil out of his pocket, gently scraping the sharp end along the familiar path down his thumb. “How about you? What do you want to be?”

“Pfft, I don’t know,” Kita said, rolling the die and moving her battleship piece up a few spaces. “I’ll probably end up at the bakery. I’m going to college, and I was thinking that being a detective would be cool, like for the police, but I dunno. They’re both good options really.”

“Oooh, a detective. You gonna catch all the bad guys Sherlock?”

“Heck yeah I am! The game is afoot!”

They spent the next hour still playing Monopoly, but not really paying attention to the game. They talked mostly about the future. What they would do when they grew up, what things might be like, what kind of crazy thing that might happen that could change the whole world. Jace thought aliens might come to Earth, but Kita thought that some sort of sea creatures would walk on to land and be the new superior being.

But it wasn’t all big picture; they talked about what pets they want, what kind of house they’d like, even whether or not they would want houseplants. Jace was just explaining to Kita why the ridged butter knives were better than the flat edged ones, when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

There was an incredibly enticing smell coming from the kitchen. The scent immediately made him think the word “warm”, but it also smelled like garlic and onions and spices and… tomatoes. 

“WAIT wait wait wait wait wait wait--”

“I’m waiting, Jace,” Kita interrupted. 

“Is that--Are we-- is he making tomato soup?” Jace asked her eagerly, pointing to the kitchen.

“Huh. Is he?” Kita said sarcastically. “Wait, isn’t that your favorite food? How completely random.”

“Yeah, random,” Jace said, rolling his eyes. “Has he been making that this whole time?”

“Probably. You know Papá hates making food from a box or a can. Says it’s ‘not authentic’, so he just made it from scratch.”

“What!? He didn’t have to do all that!”

“I wanted to,” Jose’s voice came from behind him. Jace turned around to see him holding two steaming bowls. Jose’s eyebrows raised slightly at the eager look on Jace’s face, and set he the bowls down in front of them.

“Thanks Mr.--I mean Jose,” Jace said as his stomach rumbled in anticipation. 

“You’re welcome, Jay. I’ll be back with Frank in a moment.” Jose disappeared down the hallway. Jace stirred his soup, blowing on it. 

“That’s so nice of Jose. And of you! God, you guys are so awesome.” When he ate a spoonful, the flavor spread over his mouth, filling him with warmth. The soup was creamy and thick, tasting even better than it smelled. “This is the best surprise,” he said, sighing happily. 

“You are so unbelievably easy to please Jay,” Kita said with a laugh.

“Really? I always thought the opposite,” said Jace.

“Pfft, Jay you make the biggest deal out the smallest things.”

“Jee, thanks, nice to know I’m a drama queen.”

“No, I mean when we do something small for you, you act as though it costed us the world. Like we’d spent a thousand dollars or a month in order to do something for you. I just thought it was nice.”

“Nice?” Sounds more annoying, Jace thought.

“Yeah, I mean it’s just nice that you say thank you. It’s not like there’s a surplus of people who do that.”

“Oh, heh, I suppose. I guess I just don’t really need a lot to be happy.”

Frank and Jose came out of the hallway and Frank kissed Jose on the cheek as they sat down at the table.

“Is it good?” asked Jose.

“Soooo good,” Jace answered. “Am--” 

“Amazing, actually?” Kita interrupted. 

“…I do say that a lot don’t I?”

They spent the next hour or so laughing and talking and eating together. Jace felt his heart swelling with happiness with each passing moment. He was warm, his belly was full, he was with Kita and Frank and Jose, and his horrible weekend and moment with Clay were the farthest things from his mind, and everything seemed to finally be okay.

“Oh hey, it’s almost seven! We better get you home, Jay,” said Frank suddenly. 

The happy balloon in his chest deflated, making his lungs feel as though they were being squeezed tightly.

“Oh. Right,” Jace said, his voice suddenly feeling hoarse. 

He’d forgotten for a moment. Of course things couldn’t just stay like this forever. Have to go back to reality at some point, Jace thought as he cleared his empty bowl. He and Kita went to her room to pack up his things.

“Hey, so you’re still coming for Halloween tomorrow right?” Kita asked.

“Yep,” Jace replied tonelessly.

Kita opened her mouth, and then closed it again, instead turning to grab Jace’s notebook from off her bed. Jace took a little more time than needed to pack up his things; he really didn’t want to leave. Kita let him dawdle, knowing how he felt, and Jace appreciated that. He kept looking around as though worried he wouldn’t see this place again, even though he knew he would be back tomorrow. After spending almost a two minutes tying and retying his tattered sneakers, they finally walked to the car.

With each minute they spent in the car, Jace could feel the familiar anxiety in his shoulders returning. He held his backpack close to his chest, hugging it like it was a lifeline. Dread was like a creature, crawling up his back and infecting his veins with anxious venom, making his muscles tense up so much it hurt. He knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until tomorrow, when he went back home. 

To his real home.

They arrived at the motel, the car stopping just outside his room. Number nine, ground floor.

“Oh I forgot! Jay, I brought you something from the bakery, I think it’s in this bag here…” Frank said and started rustling in the bag in the passenger seat. He drew out a muffin, much like the one Kita gave him on the bus, only instead of little dots of blueberry juice, the dots were a reddish pink. “It’s raspberry, I remember you liking those ones, right?”

“Yeah, I love those ones! Thank you Mr.--I mean Frank. You guys are being way too nice today.” 

“You’re welcome Jay. I’ll see you tomorrow for Halloween! Don’t forget to bring your costume to school with you.”

“Thanks Frank. I’ll see you.” Jace opened the car door, still holding the muffin, and Kita walked with him to his room. They stood for a moment outside his door, before Jace saw a flash of movement to his left, and Kita slammed into his ribcage.

“Gagh! What are you--” He cut off. It took him a moment to realize she was hugging him, not attacking him. “Jesus, I didn’t know someone could hug so violently.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her closer.

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine.”

“But you’re not.”

“Sure I am.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m--”

“Yes, you are.”

“…I don’t know if I am.”

“If you’re okay, or if you’re lying?”

“Both. Neither. Can I get back to you on that one?”

“Sure.”

There was a silence, where they both just stared at the metal nine on the door.

“You know that just squeezing the life out of me doesn’t make it so I don’t have to leave, right?” said Jace.

“Shhhh, I don’t care right now,” said Kita. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine,” Jace said, lowering his head slightly so as to look her directly in the eyes.

“I know,” she said. She squeezed him tighter, enough to make Jace worried his ribs would crack, then released him and waved goodbye, jogging over to Frank’s car.

Jace unlocked the door, and went inside.

He sighed as he flicked on the lights. Nobody was there. The only sign anyone lived here were the ruffled bed sheets and the empty bottles still lying on the floor. He probably could’ve stayed at Kita’s a little longer if he’d known no one would be around to meet him. But he could hear the car driving away.

Now that he could have a light on, he could see the room much more clearly than he could that morning. A lamp, the alarm clock and a motel phone stood on a small table between two beds, one being his parents, and the other his own. The walls were a sickly yellow color, and while the floors were carpeted, they still felt rock hard. A mini fridge stood to the right of a wooden dresser which had a TV on top, and to the left of that dresser was the entrance to the bathroom. He shut the door and put the muffin on the table next to the alarm clock.

He turned and tossed his backpack onto his bed before flopping down on it himself. He regretted it immediately as the hard mattress almost knocked the wind out of him. 

“Ouch,” he said to the room. He stared at the cracking ceiling for a moment before remembering that he was supposed to call his mom to let her know he was okay.

Jace sat up and started dialing her number into the motel phone, and it rang twice before she answered. 

“Hey baby, you made it home?” she said sweetly. Jace could hear the bustlings of the diner in the background.

“Yeah I did. Just calling to let you know I’m okay,” Jace said. He drew out his pencil and started twirling it in between his fingers.

“Thanks honey. I have to go in a second, but how was your day?”

“Great.” Only half a lie. “It was just a normal day. Nothing really important.” A whole lie.

“That’s good. You went to Kita’s right? Did you--”

“Yes, I had dinner. I always have dinner at her house, you know that.”

“Just checking dear. I’ll be home around ten tonight. Make sure you don’t stay up too late, I want you sleeping when I get home okay?”

“Okay. Bye mom.”

“Bye hon.”

End Chapter

Tag List: @timetravelingpigeon @alexis-writes-sometimes @txintedsxint @purpleshadows1989 @gabbysmadness @thescholarsninja @danger-writes @midnight-dancer-daydreamer @musicofglassandwords @sunlight-and-starskies @panic-at-my-sexuality @edenbooknerd

[formerlyjannafaye]

Hide & Seek - Chapter 2

Guess who’s back with part 2 of her fic over a year after posting chapter one? Wow. This is the first bit of writing I’ve done in over 6 months. Its not my best, but I am proud of myself for finishing it. I hope you will check out ch.1&2 to get you in the mood for season 3! Time to work on a Mileven-centric ch. 3!

Part 1 | Read on AO3

"I hate this game."

Will tightened his grip on his wrist as he pulled his legs closer towards himself, hugging them to his body and resting his chin on his knees. He tried to take in a deep breath but it stuck in his throat and he hugged his legs even tighter in an attempt to push the air out, resulting in a quiet strangled cough.

Breathe, Will. It’s not real. You’re okay. Don’t be baby. Calm down.

This inner mantra never worked, but he tried it every time without fail. He pressed his back harder into the tree behind him, almost painfully, in an attempt to focus on something other than the fear.

This forest, its trees and hills, he knew too well. And hiding in this forest was something he was all too skilled at, the act of which was the current reason he was fighting off a panic attack.

Will had hidden in these woods a lot. The most recent time, it was cold and dark, and the air hurt to breathe. He felt permanently damp and chilled to the bone, unable to warm up if he tried. Today, he also felt permanently damp, but from heat instead of cold.

Oh.

It was too hot to be the Upside Down, and now that he looked around, too bright too.

Okay, this is good. Will managed to take in a breath and release it, his shoulders relaxing slightly at the motion. He tried to focus on other things that drew him to the present; the heat of the sun, a bird that flew by, the hard bark of the tree against his back. Will took in another deep breath and focused on releasing the air out his mouth, dropping his forehead to his knees as he breathed in and out, in and out.

The snap of a nearby branch made Will almost jump out of his skin.

“Sorry,” said a voice straining with effort to speak softly. “It’s just me, Will.”

Will peered up to see a curtain of red hair leaning over him. “Oh, hey Max,” he said, trying to steady his shaking voice and hands.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, still leaning over him, her normally piercing blue eyes soft with concern.

Will dusted his hands off on his shorts and rose to stand at her level. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just, you know,” he swallowed roughly, eyes roaming around them, unfocused, “these woods.”

Max’s eyebrows knit together with concern. “Bad memories?” she asked, before immediately wincing. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I just mean…” She gestured around them awkwardly. “I meant, um…”

Will placed his hand on her arm, stopping her. “It’s okay, Max. Yeah, bad memories.” He tried to smile at her encouragingly. “I’m glad you found me.”

She returned his smile, grateful. “Come on. If we don’t hide quick, Dustin will be finding us next.”

They started walking, silently, Max in the lead. She walked quickly and confidently, Will right behind, finally able to keep in stride with most of his friends now that he had a recent growth spurt. In fact, Will was now tall enough to see the top of her head if he lifted his chin high enough. Max was marching forward with purpose – if she was shaken at all by finding Will in the state he was, she didn’t show it, much to his relief.

If Will had learned anything about Max in the past few months it was that beyond her cool skater girl exterior, she was surprisingly kind and compassionate, but never coddling. It was a welcome break from his mom, brother, and the rest of the Party who meant well and tried their best, but at times made him feel babied nonetheless. He wasn’t sure why her compassion seemed to hit the right mark; perhaps she saw in him the same wounded strength that he recognised in her. Maybe that’s why El found it so easy to be friends with her, too.

Max’s confident strides turned hesitant for a moment and then slowed to a stop. Will nearly walked into her right arm, which she threw out from her side in silent warning. Her head jerked back towards him and she smashed the fingers from her other hand over her mouth in a silent, “shhhh.”

Will froze in place, his eyes scanning the trees around them to see if the jig was up. Max was doing the same, her arm still out and pressed against Will’s chest. Suddenly, Will sucked in his breath as he caught a glimpse of someone behind the tree directly in front of them.

Will nudged Max’s arm, gesturing at the tree, and she sucked in a gasp, too, remaining still as stone as a slender hand braced itself around the tree. They heard low murmuring and then a soft giggle that they both recognised immediately.

Will’s shoulders relaxed. “Mike and El,” he whispered.

Max dropped her arms back to her sides and rolled her eyes. "Better go the other way. Don't want to see anything we can't unsee."

With that, she turned on her heel in the opposite direction, moving away from the giggling at the same quick pace as before. Only once they were a few yards away did she slow down enough that Will could walk beside her.

"Are they always going to be like that?" Max asked, tossing a glance over her shoulder, her hair whipping over her shoulder at the motion.

Her tone surprised him. Normally Max was the one telling the guys to lay off of El and Mike for their couple-y antics, but at this moment she sounded nearly as testy as Dustin was earlier when Lucas ate the last strawberry poptart.

"Like a gooey pile of googly eyes who are all over each other? Yeah. Yeah, I think so." Will smiled slightly. "I think it's kind of cute."

"Seriously?” Max’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Yuck."

Will paused, thoughtful. "It is a little much sometimes, yeah. But I'm just really glad they're happy. After last year..." Will swallowed, trailing off. "Mike was really sad before, like I've never seen him. And he just, he deserves to be happy. This happy."

Max didn’t reply, her eyes glued to the grass below them. Will glanced over at her and could tell something was upsetting her. Her shoulders had slumped slightly and she was close to tripping on her feet, the way she was dragging them. He was just opening his mouth to ask what was wrong when he heard someone call his name, freezing him to the spot. Just as a quickly there was a crash, and more yelling.

“Dustin!” Max hissed, starting to run.

Will was hot on her heels as they darted through the trees, weaving deeper and deeper into the forest. His feet seemed to direct him on autopilot, and at last he saw their destination in the distance. “This way,” he called, grabbing her by the wrist and diving headfirst into the felt blanket doors of Castle Byers.

They crashed in a heap on the ground, panting from their sprint. They listened for Dustin’s voice but the only sound other than their own breathing was the call of a crow flying overhead.

“I think…I think we’re safe,” Max said, sighing a breath of relief. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. “I don’t think we’ll be safe here for long. Too obvious.”

“I think we’ll be okay here for a while.” Will scooted over to the pile of blankets that formed a makeshift bed in the corner of the fort. Wiping at sweat on his brow, he sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him. “By the sounds of it, Dustin ate it back there. I hope he’s okay.”

Max smirked and plopped herself down beside Will on the blankets. “Yeah, knowing Dustin he’s probably milking that for all its worth. I love the guy, but he’s pretty dramatic.”

Will smiled despite himself. “Yeah, Dustin can lay it on thick. But he’s also the life of the party. Sometimes I wish I could be more like that.” He picked at a scab on his knee absentmindedly. “Dustin seems to always have a good time even if something’s bothering him. He can make things feel normal, even when they’re weird, you know?”

Max bent forward to retie her loose shoelace. “Yeah. He’s good at that. Must be nice.”

Will tried to read Max’s expression, but her hair was hiding her face. He felt jealous for a moment of her long, red hair – it made her stand out but also was like a wall of protection she hung around her when she wanted to, like she was doing now.

“Max?” Will said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Is everything okay?”

Max shook her hair even further over her face. “I’m fine. Just…overheated.”

“Okay,” Will said, smoothing his hands on his shorts, before pushing the hair off his face. “Its okay if you’re not, too.”

There was a beat of silence where Will thought he said the wrong thing, but then Max exhaled a massive sigh. The puff of air blew her hair off her face, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Well…you’re not Dustin,” Will shrugged in reply, not wanting to push her further. She hadn’t pushed him to spill when she found him earlier, so it didn’t feel fair for him not to show her the same courtesy. If she wanted to talk, she could, but he wouldn’t force her to – even though he was eager to listen and help.

She fiddled with the yellow scrunchie on her wrist. “Its just that, I don’t know, its stupid, but like, seeing Mike and El today just made me mad. And then you said what you said, and I felt bad.”

Will felt his stomach drop. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, its okay, Will. I should feel bad. I do.” She looked him in the eye then, and he could see hers were wet with tears. “Its not like Mike and El have had it easy then, or even now. Its just that…I understand now how they must feel. I’m just…I’m so tired of hiding.”

“What do you mean?” Will’s brows furrowed, confused.

“Like, Mike and El had to hide for a long time, I know. But now? Now they can hold hands, and be a couple, and kiss, and he’s at her house all the time. But its not that easy for everyone. Its not that easy for me and Lucas, because…” Max’s face was flushed with anger and embarrassment. “Because Billy, and now Neil.”

“Neil. Like, your dad?”

“My stepdad.” Max ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “He’s an asshole. He thinks he knows everything and can control everyone. But he can’t.” She set her jaw determinedly, eyes blazing intensely. “I won’t let him control me. Ever.”

It was as though Max’s fierce stare scared the sunlight away. The fort was much darker than before, the air tense and heavy with humidity.

Will squirmed a bit, unsure of whether he should ask Max what she meant or if she would say more. She didn’t speak, though; but the darker atmosphere made Castle Byers feel like a more intimate space for this kind of conversation and gave Will a boost of courage he needed to speak.

“Does Neil not like Lucas?” he asked quietly.

Max rolled her eyes and huffed another sigh. “Neil doesn’t like anybody. I don’t know what my mom was thinking when she married him.” She bit her lip, considering her next words. “He doesn’t like anyone, but…he really doesn’t like Lucas. Or his family. Or any of his ‘kind of people,’” she said, making air quotes with her fingers, cheeks reddening in anger.

“Oh.” Will’s eyes widened in understanding. The Sinclair’s were a welcomed, well-respected family in Hawkins, but there were a few idiots who had no qualms about using racist terms to talk about them or other people of colour in town. The people who spoke like that weren’t held in high regard in most social circles, but still, it happened. Lucas didn’t really talk about it (just like Will didn’t talk about the specific names he got called), but he knew it bothered him.

“Yeah.” Max fiddled with a stray thread on one of the blankets. “I tried to make sure he didn’t know about me and Lucas, because I knew I’d get in deep shit if he found out. But he did. And he was so angry. And he said such horrible things…I had told Lucas not to come to the house…” she trailed off, voice wavering.

Will scratched at a mosquito bite on his neck, feeling awkward, not knowing what to say. Lucas had told him before that he’d only been to Max’s house a few times, and had never even gone inside. Will and the rest of the party had never been to her place at all. He was so used to everyone being at his place, like they had been earlier today, that he hadn’t considered how lonely it would to never have his friends in that part of his life.

Will knew what it was like to not feel safe in your own house, but when it was filled with his friends, with the people he loved, he felt safer. He felt happier, and lighter. His heart felt heavy in his chest when he thought how Max hadn’t experienced that since moving to Hawkins.

“What happened?” he asked.

Max stared at her hands, never once looking up. “Neil saw Lucas and I hugging before he left for camp. Hugging! He lost his mind. I told Lucas to get out of there, fast. When I got inside, he yelled at me. Grounded me, smashed my supercom,” she hugged her knees even tighter. “Then he told me, ‘I should do something about this, but I won’t. I don’t have to.’” She trembled a bit, her nails digging into her wrist. “He said that bad things happen to guys like Lucas when they go out with girls like me. He said that soon enough, someone would see us together and ‘put Lucas in his place.’”

Will’s heart was pounding in his chest, horrified at what she was saying. He thought Max’s family didn’t like Lucas, but he hadn’t considered that Lucas could be in danger because of them.

“He said more. I just can’t even say it.” Tears ran down her cheeks now, but she ignored them. “Since then its all I can think about when Lucas and I are out together. What if someone bad sees us? What if someone hurts him, just because he’s with me?”

Will scrambled to wrap his arm around her, pulling her towards his side, and she collapsed into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She was still crying – he could feel the tears on his t-shirt. His mind was racing. He wished he knew what to say, how to help, how to reassure her that it would be okay. But the thing was, he didn’t know that it would be okay.

“Does Lucas know about this?” It broke his heart to see Max so upset. He knew Lucas would be devastated.

Max shook her head, her sniffles quieting. “He knows Neil caught us and he knows I’m being weird. He can tell something’s wrong, I just…”she shrugged against Will’s shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Will kept his arm around her, trying to ignore how sweaty it was to be so close together. His eyes roamed around the room, stopping on the picture of the party last Halloween. He stared at Lucas in the photo – smiling, happy, safe, like he should be. Like they all deserved to be. He blinked tears from his own eyes and bit his lip, trying to get his own emotions under control.

“I’m sorry your stepdad’s an asshole. I…I know a little bit what its like to have a shitty dad.”

Max’s sat up, looking at Will with concern and gave his knee a gentle squeeze. “It sucks,” she said simply, smearing a hand over her tearstained cheeks.

“Yeah, it sucks. I didn’t have this place then,” he said, gesturing around the fort, “but if I did, I would’ve hidden out here all the time. Just to get away from the yelling.”

“I need one of these,” Max said, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her hands. “Castle Mayfield doesn’t have the same ring to it, though.”

Will smiled. “I don’t know. I like it.” He uncurled his own legs up to sit the same way she was. “But if you like Castle Byers better, you’re always welcome here. Totally. All friends welcome.”

“Thanks, Will,” Max smiled for the first time in a long time, and Will felt like a weight slipped from his shoulders at the sight.

A clap of thunder made them both jump. Will peeked at the sky through a crack in the wooden wall in time to see a flash of light against the grey clouds. “The sky’s dark,” he said, “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Max blinked a stray raindrop out of her eyelashes. “I think its raining already, genius,” she teased.

The odd drop got to them, but the patchy roof of Castle Byers offered at least a bit of protection. It felt nice, and Max took the opportunity to lift her face to the rain, letting it cool her flushed cheeks and wash away her salty tears.

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for telling me what you told me. I’m…I’m really sorry your stepdad is making things so hard.”

“Yeah, well, just be glad you don’t have one. You’re better off,” the steely gleam had returned to Max’s eyes, her mouth set in a thin line.

Will licked a stray raindrop from the corner of his lip. “I’ve never even thought of having a stepdad before, you know? My mom, Jonathan and I – we’re a good team, the three of us.” Like a flash of lighting, Bob’s face came to his mind, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I guess not all stepdads are bad. They can’t all be.”

Max closed her eyes and lifted her face to the rain again. “I guess.”

Will hadn’t really let his mind entertain the idea of his mom getting remarried, especially not since last fall. He hoped if his mom ever did get married, it would be to someone kind. Someone who accepted her quirks instead of fighting against them. It wasn’t likely to ever happen – who would be willing to step into his family, as burdened as they were? Who would possibly be able to handle all the issues and possible dangers that seemed to be tethered to them, no matter how hard they tried to escape them?

An idea came to his mind that made him smile. “I hope if my mom ever gets married, she marries someone better than my dad. Someone like…someone like Hopper.”

Max’s eyes flew open, her jaw dropping nearly to her knees. “What? Your mom and Hopper?”

Will laughed. “What? What’s wrong with Hopper?”

"You don't think Hopper is kind of…scary?" Max exclaimed, thinking of the commanding way the Chief carried himself, or the gruff tone he used to accuse her and El of getting into “shenanigans” whenever they were together (El said he was only teasing, but Max wasn’t always sure).

"Scary? No way! He's kind. He’s…he’s like a big teddy bear," Will said.

"Yeah, maybe with you.” Max huffed, punching Will lightly in the shoulder. “That's because he looks at you like you're made of rainbows and good intentions."

That made Will smile. "Maybe I am."

Max shook her head, her eyes shining with amusement. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Will spoke again.

"You and Lucas deserve to be happy too, you know. You could be like them - like Mike and El."

Max looked at Will sadly, but her voice was hopeful. "Really? You think so?"

Will nodded in earnest. "Yeah, I do."

"I don’t know. You don't think people will judge us? That Lucas could...that he could get hurt?"

Will thought of his friend Lucas – stubborn, protective, incredibly brave; loyal to a fault. "I think Lucas can handle it. He's handled more than you know.” He bumped her sneaker with his own. “You can talk to him about this kind of stuff. His girlfriend told me he's really easy to talk to."

Max blushed, a small smile on her lips. “Thanks, Will.”

"And like I said, you’re always welcome to come here to talk or hang out whenever you want. By yourself, or with me, or with Lucas." Will had always been thankful for the safety of Castle Byers, and he wanted to pay it forward, especially to his friends. “It can be a safe space where you don’t have to hide.”

Max didn’t reply but threw herself at Will, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Just as quickly, she leapt to her feet, reaching out her hand to help him up, too. “Come on. Dustin has probably given up now that its storming. We should get back to the clearing before they get worried about us.”

Will took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. As they stepped out of the fort and into the woods, he felt better than he had when the game started. The rain was cold, but he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Hopper and your mom,” Max muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “There’s no way I’m not telling El about this.”

[paigenotblank]

27 & 45, Eight x Rose!

tagging @doctorroseprompts for providing the prompt list.

27: happy birthday & 45: under the influence

pairing: eight x rose (with a side of eleven x rose)

rating: Explicit (NSFW)

Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ABBEY & ROSE TYLER!!

Shadows of the Future

AO3  TSP

Rose tripped and collided with the wall of a dank alley after a rough jump between dimensions. She clutched at her side, but the wound she’d received moments ago was already mostly healed. Breathing heavily, she leaned against the bricks at her back and took a moment to get her bearings. She should have been pulled back to control, but instead had ended… An’ where’s here? She glanced around before pushing off the wall and heading for a busy street.

She shook off the last of the lightheadedness from the dimension jump, and realized two things. Time was finally moving in a way she hadn’t felt in nearly four years. Home. And second, as her time senses re-calibrated to this universe she realized with a start that it was her birthday here. Her heart skipped a beat, it had to be a sign, right? Right universe on her birthday and it would be a gift to find the Doctor. Maybe the universe really will be kind for once.

Spinning around on the pavement, she desperately sought out any little sign of a blue box or its mad pilot. She closed her eyes and listened for the little hum in the back of her mind that meant the TARDIS was nearby. Her shoulders slumped with the realization that there wasn’t going to be a birthday reunion with her Doctor. Glancing down at the dimension cannon, she calculated that she had at least 26 minutes until she could jump again. The sound of raucous laughter and a deep bass beat pulled Rose toward a bar.

She pushed her way through a throng of patrons, both humanoid and very alien, to order the establishment’s strongest shot. She threw her head back and downed the fiery liquid. She focused on the burn coursing down her throat and into her stomach. Licking her lips, she glanced around and noticed a seat opening up. After settling herself on the stool, she ordered another.

Rose played with the rim of her glass and studied the dark brown liqueur. She wiped at the tears pricking her eyes that had nothing to do with the strength of the drink, and everything to do with the man that she missed so much. Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of nearly losing it just because the color of her drink matched the color of her lover’s eyes, she brought the glass to her lips. Just the thought of him had the hairs prickling on the back of her neck with awareness. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was in the room with her. She listened again for her bond with the TARDIS, but could only feel the pleasant fog caused by the alcohol.

Rose caught the eye of the man sitting down next to her and raised her drink to him. He was handsome, the blue of his eyes reminded her of her first Doctor, but this man was a stranger. “Happy birthday to me.” She tossed back that shot, as well, and slammed the empty glass onto the bar.

She felt the man’s eyes on her and turned to address him, but he spoke before she could put her thoughts together.

“You know those shots have much stronger effects on humans than the native population.”

Rose raised her eyebrow at him. “Who said I’m human?”

Amusement coursed through her at his shock, which quickly turned to excitement by the way he ran his eyes up and down her body. She shouted over the din to the bartender. “Another!”

When she glanced back at the stranger, his eyes were narrowed and he was frowning. “I’m sorry, but did you say you’re not human?”

Rose smirked. “I’m sort of human, not completely though. This thing happened and then… it’s not really that important, but anyway my…erm…well…afterwards he liked to say I was human mark 2.”

“Hmm.” The stranger’s velvety voice sent shivers up and down Rose’s spine. “Human mark 2. Sounds…fascinating.” He leaned in closer. “Can’t say I’ve ever met another human mark 2.”

Rose swallowed and nodded.

The man clapped his hands together and pulled back, breaking the spell that had fallen over her. “Still, the day I know everything, I might as well stop traveling.”

The blood drained from Rose’s face. She’d heard that turn of phrase before from-

The man extended a hand. “I’m the Doctor by the way.”

Rose leaned forward and tumbled from her seat. “Doctor!”

He jumped up to help her. “Are you okay, my dear?”

When Rose stood, she was grinning from ear to ear. “Never better.”

The strange blonde girl had the Doctor feeling discombobulated. “Do I…do I know you?”

Rose shook her head trying and failing to contain her smile. “Not yet! I’m Rose by the way.”

“Rose, eh? Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Rose.” His head tilted as he considered the woman before him. “You didn’t seem surprised by my name. I usually at least get an inquiry along the lines of ‘Doctor? Doctor who?’ Occasionally, ‘Doctor What?’”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard of you is all.” She took her time perusing this new, well new to her, form of his. Her tongue poke out the corner of her mouth and she teased, “Thought you’d be taller.”

He sputtered, “T-t-taller? Why I’ve never been so insulted- I’ll have you know I am 3 inches taller than I previously was!”

Rose grabbed him by his cravat and pulled him flush against her. “Didn’t say there was anything wrong with how tall you are.” She stared at his lips, and licked her own. “In fact, I’d say you were the perfect height to do this.” She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. Their skin sparked where it touched and he gasped in surprise. She took advantage and used the opportunity to lick her way into his mouth. Rose carded her fingers through his luscious curls and he hummed low in his throat. The sound drove Rose to pepper his face with little kisses.

“Rose!” He yelped when she used her teeth on his neck. “I…are you…the drink…they’re very strong.”

She ran her tongue along the tendon of his neck. “‘S not the alcohol. Want you.” She mumbled against his skin, “tardisnow.”

His gaze sharpened on her. “What was- What did you just say?”

“Nevermind.” She nibbled her way up his jaw, scraping her teeth along his neck, just behind his ear. It never failed to drive her two previous Doctor’s wild and this one was no different. He gripped her hips and pushed her roughly against the bar. Leaning over her panting, he began to lower his mouth to her heaving chest.

The bartender slammed his hand onto the counter startling them. “Oi! None o’ that in here!”

Rose grabbed the Doctor’s hand. “Run!”

The two of them ran through the crowded dance floor, dodging couples, and burst out the door onto the pavement. They looked at each other and promptly doubled over laughing. When they were calm enough to speak, Rose gave him a crooked grin. “Don’t suppose you know anywhere we could go to…” She bit her lip and batted her eyelashes at him.

The Doctor was already pulling his key from his pocket. “As a matter of fact, my ship is nearby.”

He opened the door and swept a hand toward the interior of the blue police box. Rose entered and was taken aback by the differences. “Oh, she’s beautiful.”

The TARDIS greeted her with a flash of lights and a happy hum.

Rose spun in a circle trying to take in all the changes between this TARDIS and hers.

“Who are you?”

Rose glanced at the Doctor to see him glowering at her.

“What? What do mean?”

He crossed his arms. “You knew my name, you didn’t flinch at the size of TARDIS interior, and even I never get a greeting that enthusiastic from her. Who. Are. You?”

“I…I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t. I want to, but-”

“Then you should leave.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I know.”

The quivering of her voice affected the Doctor more than he expected.

“Wait.”

Rose headed for the door, but paused at the ramp. “No. You’re right, Doctor. I…I shouldn’t be here.”

“Rose.” She looked up to see his eyes focused just offside of her. “You know me in the future. We were separated and you’re trying to me again. You will…and soon. Don’t lose hope, dear girl.”

She took several steps closer to him. “How…how’d you know all that?”

He shook his head to clear it. “This incarnation’s always been a bit prescient. What are you doing here, Rose? Really?”

“I- You’re the same man, yeah? And I…I missed you.” She reached out to touch him and, like at the bar when she kissed him, their skin sparked where it met.

“Oh, Rose.” A small smile tugged at his lips and he opened his arms. She wasted no time in flinging herself into his embrace.

“I miss you so much.”

He ran his hands up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m here now, darling. Though I can’t bring you back to my future self. The TARDIS is practically screaming in my head against it.”

“Know. Can feel her too.”

“Can you now?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Must be a doozy of a timeline if the Old Girl doesn’t want me crossing it.”

She sniffed back tears and borrowed her cheek into his shoulder. “Yeah. S'pose it is.”

“Don’t cry, love.”

The endearment, so easily spoken, broke her. With tears running down her cheeks, she pushed him against the console and plundered his mouth. His surprise lasted but a breath, before he was passionately kissing her back. Flipping their positions, he lifted her by her bum onto the control panel. He thrusted against her and, with dials and levers poking her back and the Doctor poking her front, she gasped, “Bedroom. Now.”

He swept her up in his arms, his slight frame deceptive to the strength of his superior physiology, and carried her down the corridors toward the bedrooms. The TARDIS showed her approval by lighting the way and whooshing open any doors in their path.

The Doctor placed Rose gently back onto her feet at the foot of the bed and stepped back to tug at his necktie. Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him forward into a snog and tipped herself back onto the mattress. He landed on top of her with a grunt. “But-”

“Shhhh.” She plunged her fingers into his hair and drew him down. She scratched her nails against his scalp and he groaned into her mouth.

“Rose…”

She could feel him throbbing against her upper thigh and dropped her fingers to his trouser fastening. Placket opened, Rose reached her hand in and ran her thumb over the tip of his cock.

“Fuuuck.”

She smirked against his lips. “We’re getting there.”

He cupped the back of her neck and brought their mouths together in a messy tangle of tongues. He drove himself against her core, her hand still wrapped around him tightened with each pass.

He tore himself away and sat panting on his knees. “If I am not inside of you soon, it’ll be over before it’s begun.” He reached up and pulled off his cravat before going to work on rest of his clothing.

Unable to keep her eyes from the proud appendage standing at attention and bobbing with his haste, Rose untied her boots and kicked them free. She undid the clasp of her trousers and snaked her hand into her knickers. Spreading the wet heat along her slit to the little nub pulsing with want for friction, had her eyes fluttering closed.

The Doctor’s strangled cry drew her attention. He sat frozen, watching her with wide eyes. Under his gaze, she wriggled free from her clothing and sank back amongst the pillows. She trailed her fingers slowly along the planes of her stomach, dropping to tease the hair at her groin before switching directions to play with her breasts. She tweaked her nipple and breathlessly asked, “Are you planning on joining me any time soon? Or should I…”

He swallowed, the movement mirroring the speed with which her fingers disappeared into her heat.

She’d barely blinked before he had the rest of his clothing removed and was pulling her dripping fingers toward his mouth. His tongue circled the digit and sucked on her dewy essence.

Arousal shot down her arm, tightening her nipples, before pooling at her core. She arched into his chest, prompting him to finally sink into her. They both hissed at the painful pleasure. He at the hot human heat, she at the stretch from being without him for so long. Both needing a moment, he panted at her neck and worried the skin there. When he felt her begin to shift beneath him, he pulled almost entirely from her body before pistoning back in.

They quickly found a rhythm that worked for both of them and it was a matter of moments before Rose was breaking apart. The clenching of her inner muscles around his cock had him jerking into his own release. Each little residual tremor from Rose, milked him of more and more cum until he collapsed on top of her.

Rose giggled at the snore at her ear. The same thing had happened the first time she and her first Doctor had had sex. For all his bragging about not needing sleep, she certainly seemed to know how to shag him past the point of exhaustion.

She brushed the hair from his face and kissed his brow. She rolled out from under him and watched as he hugged her pillow closer. It was better this way, no messy goodbyes.

She slowly re-dressed and, with one last look at the sleeping Time Lord, made her way back to the control room.

The last thing that Rose wanted to do was leave the Doctor, even if he wasn’t her exact Doctor, he was still the Doctor. And she’d been searching for him for so long. The only thing that kept her feet moving was the knowledge that this Doctor had a path laid out ahead of him. One she couldn’t be a part of, but that would lead him back to her at the end. Her grief - for her current struggle, for his upcoming struggle - nearly overwhelmed her, but a gentle projection of love and hope from the TARDIS had her strengthening her resolve.

“Thanks, dear.” A teasing hum, had Rose grinning. “Not if I see you first.”

She kissed her fingers and brought them to the time rotor. Squaring her shoulders and before she could change her mind, pushed through the front door. She stumbled as she came face to face with another TARDIS. Looking behind her to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. No, there’re definitely two of ‘em.

The door to the other TARDIS swung open and an unkempt young man with mussed, shaggy hair wearing an askew bowtie stomped out. He zipped closed his trousers and pulled a set of braces over his shoulders. He was mumbling to himself. “Couldn’t wait until after we finished to remember. Oh, no. Coitus interruptus by my own bloody wife. And right when we were getting to the good part.” He nodded at Rose as he pushed his way into the TARDIS she’d just left. “Hello, darling.”

Rose stood slack jawed when a feminine throat clearing had her spinning around.

Rose, a future one, leaned against the doorframe of the other TARDIS wearing nothing but a man’s tweed jacket and a smirk.

Rose’s eyes grew huge. “What?”

“Hello.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“I remembered the events of tonight and immediately made the Doctor go hide the memories of this for his past self. Wasn’t gonna be able to concentrate, plus…” She shrugged. “Timelines.”

The younger Rose breathed out, “Oh. I hadn’t even considered…”

“‘S ok. I tell you, so you remember when your me, and then I tell the Doctor. It works itself out.”

Rose bit her lip and glanced from her future self to the door of the younger Doctor’s TARDIS. “So…we, um…”

The older Rose nodded. “You find him…the right him. Don’t worry about…well, it’s been ages for us. You’ll get back to the Doctor you remember. But, Rose, you’re gonna have to fight the universe for him. And I’ll tell you a secret…the universe has nothing on us.” The younger Rose grinned at that. “It’s not gonna be easy, but it’ll be worth it in the end.”

The future Doctor pushed his way out of his predecessor’s ship, leaned over to give his spouse’s younger self a kiss on the cheek.

“Happy Birthday, love.” His hand brushed a tendril of hair away from her temple and set the lock on her own memories before continuing on to his own TARDIS.

“So worth it.” The older Rose winked at herself and snagged the Doctor by his braces. She pressed her body flush against his. “I believe you were just about to give me my birthday present.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and spun her into the ship, slamming the door behind them.

Rose watched the timeship dematerialize in front of her and with it went her own memories of the evening. With her heart full of hope for the first time in years and without looking behind her, she pressed the button that would take her one step closer to the end of this chapter of her life.

[squigglecheesecake]

Day 1- Spreading the Sickness

(Kay so imma just update this later cause this took more time than I realized and boi you betta believe I’m writing for our lil Magician’s week.)

So since I’m shit at art but have so many ideas in my head, I’m writing it out! Hurray! lol! Basically, this is like a y/n type story soooooo enjoy! 

 The lights had shattered. They didn’t blow out, surprisingly I didn’t hit one by mistake...again. They simply shattered. Each and every single bulb. Shards of glass rained down on both of us. I covered my nose and mouth along with Henrik. All the lights contained mercury. Someone was supposed to replace them but he kept pushing it to the side. Thankfully, Henrik had a mini flashlight hooked to his keys. It turned on, lighting up the floor. I couldn’t see too well but I couldn’t really complain either.  

    My eyes wandered over to Henrik and..he had an unsettling look on his face. Something was off. The past few weeks were odd. He seemed more irritable and..something else that I really couldn’t place. A bit more cautious I suppose? Don’t get me wrong, that isn’t a bad thing. Between the both of us, he’s a lot more calmer and careful when handling fragile things. However, out of nowhere, he decided to move to a new location. I remember walking into his office in the hospital. For such a small room he had a lot of stuff. Boxes and crates filled the room. I mean, I wanted to stay back there..but his offer? 

  Studying for years only to end up with a low paying job at an overworked hospital was grueling. Yet, the chance to become famous? Everyone wants that, right? The chance to discover something new and learn its properties could change the world. How could I not accept? I know it sounds crazy and to even accept it so quickly...but he chose me. Think about it. The other nurses, the doctors, th-the people who understood much more fields of health and science. That was such an honor to be chosen and just like that, we both appeared in this warehouse he moved into.

   I let out a small squeak as he jerked my body over to the right, snapping me back into reality. Without hesitation, he shoved me through the doors. I stumbled in and rubbed my now tender arm, thanks to him. He didn’t care though. He locked the doors and slipped out his phone from his coat pocket. His back was turned against me, hiding, always hiding. He left me constantly to work while he wandered off doing who knows what! 

“Take this.” He handed me a mask. 

“Thanks.” I drew in a breath and slipped the straps behind my ears, adjusting it. It wasn’t exactly the best mask for Mercury filled air but it would have to work for the time being. 

“So.” I said, sitting down on one of the unopened crates. “I guess we’ll have to get new bulbs huh? Maybe something more efficient and less poisonous?” I mean I tried. I had good intentions. He’d been so bummed out, I wanted to cheer him up or get some sort of positive reaction from him. He wasn’t interested in conversations though. He paced around the room, grabbing beakers, test tubes, rifling through all the boxes in a frenzy. I watched him, curiously..that was when I noticed something. I stood in front of his path and pulled a jar from his hand. I could feel his eyes on me but he kept silent. I turned the glass jar over and mouthed out the words on the label. It suddenly sunk lower into my hand, feeling heavier. 

“...Where did you get this?” I held my breath, seeing the other containers. GHB, Uranium, Francium, Chromium, Astatine, other labels that I only could remember reading about in history. 

“Nevermind this.” He took it back from me and set it down by an old rusted sink. 

“How does this even exist?” I reached for a container labeled ‘Triatominae’, that is, before he slapped my hand away. 

“Don’t touch that!” He shouted. “Put on some gloves! Du dummkopf! This isn’t gradeschool Y/N!” 

My body tensed up. “Yes sir.” Let it be known that I don’t have a great temper. I become petty while simmering with rage. “Gloves are on....or did you want leather? Wool? Maybe some cotto-” 

“Enough.” He spoke strictly, shooting me a glare. His shoulder slumped down and he hung his head low. “I offered you this position. If you are to continue this behavior then I will have to ask you to leave….permanently.” I pursed my lips. This joke of a doctor, was threatening my job? He rarely did much when we were both working anyway. He’d get nowhere. I slipped off my gloves and threw them onto the concrete floor. “Fine.” I walked past him and headed for the doors. “Auf Wiedersehen, sayonara, adios, arrivederci, au revoir, good riddance.” 

I pushed through the doors and instantly my heart dropped. A shrill scream rang through the empty building. My throat dried up and I could feel my body begin a cold sweat. No one was allowed here. Hell, even we weren’t supposed to be here. The warehouse was to be condemned and taken down but the date got pushed back. Schneeple raced past me and slammed the door shut. He quickly pushed boxes over to barricade the door. “Henrik...” 

“Help me!” He breathed out heavily, pushing a table in front of the doors. “But the mercury!” “It’s fine!” I wanted to question him. I wanted to get out. I wanted to go home but I found myself pushing the table along with him. I stared at the metal doors, quivering. “Y/N, move! I need your help now.” 

“That was a woman..” 

“Y/N..” 

“No one’s supposed to be here.” 

“Exactly.” He hissed, pushing away my concerns. I turned to him and saw how frantic he became. He was shaking too. “Henrik. Someone or something forced her here. She’s going to die from the mercury.” “No one’s going to die if you just help me.” 

I sighed in defeat. “Here.” I took the beaker out of his hand and measured everything out. Impressively, I was doing well...until the bang. “No!” He gasped. He grabbed the tube from me and tried to keep it from spilling. 

“Where’s the back door?” I demanded, my breathing becoming rapid. 

“What are y-” 

“I want to leave. Now.” I grabbed his arms. He looked back at me surprised. What I didn’t want to see next happened. Guilt washed over his face as I read his mind. “We need to call the police.” I lowered my voice, eyeing up the doors. We could barricade them sure, but they were swinging doors. They moved in both directions. “I’m not-” A cold and deathening knock cut him off. It was small and only one at first, we both questioned if we were hearing things. Then the knock followed with a lot faster and harder pounds. The floor beneath us shook. “He-Henrik.” I stammered. “Get in here.” He wrapped his arm around me and hurried me over to an empty box in the corner. “Jack where are you?” He mumbled to himself as I carefully crouched down into the box. 

“Jack?” I blinked. He then folded the box close and ran. Okay, maybe now was the perfect time to panic. Last time I saw Jackie, he was being transferred up to a new hospital. With his clumsiness, it was a surprise to everyone..but, that was miles..hours away from here. 

There was a small cardboard tab beside me. The kind of tab you’d push in to have a good grip on heavy boxes. It made a tiny space to peek in. Henrik was worse than ever. His body trembled, dropping a few more of what looked like Uranium into the beaker.

I slipped my phone out from my pocket. Instantly the brightness blinded me and I had to turn it down. My heart raced. If I called for help, both of us would be busted for trespassing. That bang seemed more threatening than some fine though.

“You forgot the assassin bug.” A voice called out. Henrik jerked and turned around. I tried desperately to see but there was only so much that cut out could show me. Henrik seemed hesitant, like he was deciding whether or not to abandon this ass of a partner or stay. He gripped onto the syringe, staring the stranger down. Honestly, I expected him to leave me with whoever this was. I quietly slipped off my mask so I could breathe a bit better.

“Aw, I was expecting a warmer welcome. Where're the drinks? The confetti? Is this any way to treat your own kid?” 

“You are no child of mine.” 

A figure walked towards him. “Ah right. I forgot. I'm still a test subject to you. Let's make this quick then.” The man held his hand out. He wore dark clothes and there weren’t many details to him. No watch, no tattoos, no markings. The only thing that stood out was the dark green hair. “Make this easy for me will yah?” The man spoke impatiently. They stared each other down. “Fine.” My eyes flooded with tears. The creep swiftly stabbed him. It happened so fast and...where did he even get the knife? Henrik grabbed his arm to stop him but the guy flung him back. “Don't bother.” He muttered, delicately picking up the syringe. 

He dipped it into the beaker, filling it all the way up. His eyes caught something and his face turned to delight. “Heeeeyyy!” He lifted up a container filled with bugs. “How's daddy's boy doing?” He pulled one out and held it in his hand. “Aw look at you..so big and bitey.” Schneeple held his stomach in pain. He kicked the man in the legs, making him wobble. “You just can't take a hint, can you?” The man grabbed him by the throat. The veins in his arm bulged out, squeezing the life out of him. With his free hand, he set the bug down and began feeding it a few drops from the syringe. The bug crawled over to taste it. “You like that huh?” The man cooed. “I bet you want more, hm?” He turned to Henrik. 

Henrik waved his arms around frantically, desperately trying to keep him away. The tall man smiled, amused. It happened again. In a split second, I watched Schneeple let out a painful cry as the guy forced the syringe into his vein. To make it even worse, the man decided to throw Schneeple against the table, limiting my view. The guy had his hand balled into a fist, holding something. A few more screams followed along with more struggling. “Hey, shhhh. It's all over now. Don't worry, the pain will go away soon.” I forced myself not to cry or hyperventilate. I pressed my face against the cut out as much as possible. This dude was freakishly strong. He held onto Schneeple's shoulders and lifted him up a few inches off from the ground. I felt my body shake. There was no way I could fight him. I'd have to run and hope for a miracle. 

“I was really hoping the gas would've knocked you out. But as always, you enjoy giving me challenges. Don't yo-” He stopped. His body tensed up and he stayed quiet, staring at Henrik. He let out a cackle after a minute of silence. “Oh!” He grinned. “Henry you old, old, pathetic bloodhound you...have you been hiding a lady friend from me?” That was it. Chills shot down my neck and through every inch of my body. Might as well accept my fate. The man leaned into Schneeples almost lifeless body. “I don't smell perfume..or that retched scent of the unborn..but I don't smell the stench of a man's many wasted years either..like you. What do you think doc?” He squeezed his cheeks together, pushing Henrik's blue lips out. 

“Aw.” He tsked. “Come on, lighten up. You've sure seen brighter days.” The man sighed depressively. He lifted up Henrik's body higher, meeting his eyes. “You always did let me down.” He took two steps back before Schneeples body fell to the floor with a large thud. 

Wherever Jackie was, he needed to hurry. My heart jumped, hearing the sharp point of a knife scream past me. “Ooooohhhh how I've missed that heavenly scent.” His shoes clicked against the floor, stopping right by my box. He lowered down and I held my breath. He groaned, trying to pull his knife out from the other box. He took forever and I was too afraid to breathe. I couldn't hold it any longer and I finally caved in. As soon as I allowed the slightest amount of air to reach my lungs I could hear my sides rub against the cardboard. There was a small click and everything froze. “I haven't tasted fear in soooo long.” He whispered. He placed his hand on the exact box I was hiding in. I could feel my hair stand up. His hand was right where my head was and..maybe...I was imagining things but I could almost feel him petting me. The box, I mean. Both, I just-I don't know! He let out a long exhale. “Back to work I guess.” He walked away and shuffled around. I finally saw him by the sink, messing with what Henrik had. “Oh..and wherever you are…” He shouted. “Don't try to run. Daddy needs his little puppet.” He smiled, picking up another syringe. He ran his fingers down the long needle. “.......In one piece of course.”

[ragwitch]

Can you do #7 shieldshock :D I don't have a ratings preference

TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF FOR YOU MY FRIEND.

7. ‘I’m on a long term mission to find the best possible pumpkin spice latte. Wanna hop along?’ 

Pairing: Darcy/Steve

Rating: G

“Hey, Darce.”

Darcy paused in chewing on her banana, taking a moment to collect herself, before continuing. Because the last time Steve had passed her in the communal kitchen and said ‘hey’ she had almost choked on her oatmeal in front of Tony and the Black Widow. Which had been embarrassing.

“Hey, Steve,” she answered, tossing away the peel. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good…it’s good,” he said.

Darcy froze at the trashcan before turning slowly back to face him. He was leaning against the long island, finger tracing patterns in the marble countertop.

“That’s good,” she said, nodding and she watched his nose scrunch.

“Yeah…so…” He looked up, blinked twice, lips twisting on his face before looking back down at the countertop. “So I’ve heard a lot about pumpkin spice lattes.”

Huh. “They’re…a pretty big deal this time of year, I guess, yeah,” Darcy said, walking over to lean against the opposite side of the counter.

“There’s a lot of…hyperbole nowadays,” Steve said, maybe more to himself.

“Hyperbole…and pumpkin spice lattes are literally what the world relies on for basic sanity and everyday joy now,” Darcy said.

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her for a moment and Darcy held her stony expression until his smile cracked through.

“Well everyone’s giving me a lot of shit about them and not having found ‘my brand’ so…I’m on a long term mission to find the best pumpkin spice latte. You wanna hop along? Nat said you might have ‘millenial insight.’”

“Rude,” Darcy said immediately and then felt terrible because Steve looked so genuinely distressed at the accusation. “No, I mean…don’t tell her I said that. It’s fine.” She waved her hand quickly in the air as if to erase the words.

And the smell of matchmaking on the wind.

But Steve was still wincing when she finally convinced her hand to chill out and settle down.

So she said, “Yeah. I know all about the mythical PSL. Let’s start our quest.”

_

“I can’t believe you’re making us start at Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“I can’t believe this is $3.50, it’s so small.”

“Oh, Steve.”

_

“Wow! That’s a lot of nutmeg. That’s more nutmeg than I thought would fit into a coffee drink.”

“Are these supposed to taste like pumpkin? Shouldn’t they just be called Spice Lattes.”

“Shhhh…if the marketing teams making billions on the PSL hear you they might take a hit out on us.”

“I think I could keep us safe.”

“…fair.”

_

“Darce, this is an ice cream shop.”

“Yeah but I read online that they put a pumpkin spice latte over pumpkin pie ice cream.”

“Lead the way.”

_

“Okay so…this one. This one tastes like-”

“Squash.”

“Yeah. They leaned in to the pumpkin side.”

_

“You want to…to hang out in here a bit?”

“There are board games, of course I want to hang out a bit. You competitive, Steve?”

“I’m not gonna let you win just cause you’re pretty if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s…I…okay. Good. I won’t let you win just cause of your dreamy baby blues either then.”

_

“Starbucks. Isn’t this a chain?”

“I really appreciate the anti-corporate monopoly side of Captain America, but I did a lot of research and even the coffee snobs say this is the best combination of spice and pumpkin flavor.”

“…S’probably artificial.”

“You’re an adorable shit-stirrer.”

…

“This…this is really good.”

“Especially considering I was getting kind of tired of these.”

“I guess…that’s that.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

_

Darcy was bent over her desk, head turning between Jane’s chicken scrawl that was practically spiraling around the pages of her notebook, and the computer monitor.

“Darcy,” Jane said from underneath a ticking contraption.

“M’almost done,” Darcy answered.

“Take a break.” Darcy froze at the suggestion. Jane never suggested breaks. Then she added, “You’ve got a visitor.”

Darcy spun her chair around to watch Steve stepping carefully over the the loose pipes and tools that spread out around Jane like an iron and steel mandala.

“Steve,” she said. Blushing, because yes, Steve, obviously and because he was carrying two tall paper cups with coffee lids. “Miss me? Or the PSL?”

“You,” he said, cheeks pinking as he sat down on a little stool at her side and passed her the cup.

She was going to tell him that she missed him too, she just needed a sip of caffeinated courage first. The coffee zipped across her tongue, bright ginger and rich, bitter chocolate.

“Ohhh,” she said, looking down at the lid as if that might reveal the secret. “This is not pumpkin.”

“Dark chocolate gingerbread,” Steve said, a smile creeping across his lips.

“Mmmm.” Darcy took another sip and let her eyes fall shut happily.

“Save me a sip,” Jane said from under the metal rig.

“We’ll see,” Darcy said. This was definitely more her coffee speed.

“Sooo…The Uncommons just started the latte playoffs. They’ve made up a bunch of flavors and you buy the ones you like to narrow it down to a winner. There’s a bracket and everything,” Steve said.

“Awww, board game place? I loved board game place,” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” Steve said. And his feet scuffed against the tile and his shoulders drew into his ears.

“We should probably try them all,” Darcy said. She tucked her free hand under her thigh and crossed her fingers, hoping this was where he was leading the conversation.

He looked up at her, grinning, cheeks dimpling. “We are kind of experts,” he said.

“Yeah, and I still need to kick your ass at Risk.”

He shook his head and smiled fondly at her. “That’s funny but you’re competing against real world experience.”

“Shut up, Captain Smartypants. I can take you.”

[whumpywhumper]

Markus--Part 4

Had some inspiration hit for a whumpee getting a migraine and the whumper having to give comfort. As a frequent sufferer of migraines. . . They suck. 

Thanks @0idril0 for listening to me bitch when my characters don’t cooperate. 

Her latest chapter in the Nico series is 100% amazing 

Edit for Masterpost

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Markus twisted his neck at a rough angle, groaning, pressing the heel of his hand into the middle of his forehead. It felt like his head was about to explode. Like it was made of delicate delicate eggshell and a pulsing creature was struggling to free itself, pounding on the inside of his skull, and screaming to be let out. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes tighter, bending over his knees and pushing his face into the floor. Seeking some sort of relief. 

Hollow weakness invaded his torso and he whined, trembling, as lightning strikes of pain arched down his spine and through his eyes. Make it stop. His fingers clawed at the back of his neck, pulling, trying to release the pressure that was building. The rough concrete of the floor distracted him but it was also too much. Everything was too much. He held his breath for a moment, choking back an anguished cry. It hurts so much. 

He’d tried to tell himself that it wasn’t that bad, that the pain was manageable. He’d been through worse. The pain really wasn’t that bad. His brain knew that but his body didn’t. Ithurtsithurtsithurts  

He flipped over, landing with a resounding thump, and pressed his heels into the floor, letting his neck take his body weight as he pressed up into an arch. “Muh, p’le’se,” he slurred, begging somebody to make the pain go away. He grabbed handfuls of his hair and let himself fall, the sharp burst of pain in his back a distraction from the agony in his head. He opened his eyes, searching for something to grab onto, to distract him. Searching for something. 

The ever-present light seared into his eyes and he gagged at the resulting nausea, swallowing thickly. Turn the lights off, please, please, I can’t do this anymore. He sucked down lungfuls of air, trying to control the overwhelming urge to throw up. He couldn’t imagine something worse at the moment than the wracking convulsions that would accompany it. He curled onto his side, into the smallest ball his tall frame could make. He could feel the tight band of his boxers, the only clothing allowed to him, cutting into his roiling stomach and he groaned. Wrapping an arm around his middle. 

The cold room made him shiver and he felt his muscles trembling under his goose-bumped flesh. A flash of heat accompanied a wave of pain and he suppressed a wet sob, pressing the meat of his hands into his eyes. The bright zebra flashes of light accompanied the pressure and he felt only a moment of relief before the pain came barreling back. He rolled back onto his knees and crawled to the corner, unable to stop the near-constant mewl of pain that poured out of his mouth. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he begged, his mouth fumbling with numbed lips to ask for relief. 

He made it to the corner just in time, unable to suppress the nausea any longer, and threw up. The only thing in his stomach was bile and he felt it burn his throat and nose as he emptied his stomach. Each heave of his middle clenched the muscles throughout his body and he gave a soft cry with every intake of air. Finally empty, he slumped to the floor, pressing his face into where the floor met the wall, heedless of the awkward angle, unable to draw the strength to move more than a few inches from his mess. His muscles jerked weakly and he could feel his hands absently clenching and unclenching as the waves of pain flooded him. 

His arm skidded along the concrete floor and wrapped around his eyes after a few moments, trying to block the horrible light. The acrid smell of his stomach bile tunneled into his brain and he sniveled, overwhelmed. His ribs jackrabbited with the rapid flutter of his heart and his tiny gasps of air. Wetness soaked his arm from his tears. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, next to his own vomit and wallowing in his pain, he only knew that it wasn’t getting better. The pressure building in his head. He whined with every breath. 

He was going to die. 

The door opened and the sound of the squealing hinges was like a dagger straight to the tendons in his neck. He screamed between his clenched teeth and curled in on himself, fisting his hair, sobbing. He didn’t hear the startled intake of breath or the slap of bare feet on the floor. The hand on his shoulder, though, made him jerk and another wave of nausea ravaged him. He sat up and forward, palms slapping against the wall, and vomited little more than spittle. He moaned, panting and trembling before his strength gave out and he collapsed. 

Strong arms caught him, saving him from landing in his own excretions. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter, and writhed at the way the pain lanced and jolted through his body. The arms held him closer and he realized a voice was calling to him, “Markus? Markus, look at me!” There was a hand on his face, cupping his cheek, delivering small taps.  He knew that voice, he was supposed to listen to that voice or bad things happened. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t. 

He moaned deep in his throat and threw his head back, away from the hand, shaking his head weakly. He knew like he knew he needed air, if he opened his eyes that he would die. His brain would turn into jelly and pour out of his ears.“Pleasepleasemakeitstopithurtshurtshurts,” he plead, naked begging in his voice even through the slurred delivery. His hands clenched in something soft and he realized he had some sort of cloth under his fingers. He gripped it tighter, tugging frantically, as he tried to curl in on himself. 

The strong arms didn’t let him curl up but gathered him up to lay across the person’s lap, cradling his head. “Markus, I can’t make it stop unless you tell me what’s wrong. Look at me, beautiful.” 

A hiccuping sob erupted from his mouth and he tried to turn his face away from the light to hide in the arm beside his head. “Nnnn, lightlight, please nononono.” 

A hand carded through his sweat-damp hair, “Okay, okay, no light, darling. Come here.” An arm hooked under his knees and the man picked him up effortlessly. The curl of Markus’s back in this new hold made him whimper as a solid ache formed in his spine but it was only a few feet before he was set down again to lay against the floor. A cold hand drew his face out from where he hid his eyes, “Okay, beautiful, open your eyes. It isn’t bright in here. Tell me what’s wrong. Did one of the others do this to you?” 

Markus cried between his clenched teeth but tried to do what the voice said this time. Salty tears bit at the corner of his eyes but his muscles relaxed minutely when light didn’t assault his senses. Lucien hovered over him, concerned creases between his eyebrows. He sucked in jagged, halting, breaths, “Please, please. Make it stop.”  

“Markus, you have to tell me what’s wrong before I can help you.” The vampire’s cold hand gently gripped his jaw and forced him to look him in the eye. Markus knew that his own eyes were wild and red-rimmed with the pain that crashed against his skull. “Yes or no, did one of the others do this to you?”  

“No, no others,” he panted, fisting his hand in the cloth still under his palm. “Small pain, grew. Head, pleasepleaseplease.” Markus broke off into desperate mumbling, shutting his eyes and squirming, making the arm bracing his shoulders tighten. 

“Okay, okay, sssshhhh,” Lucien soothed, one hand moving to grip solidly at the back of Markus’s neck, at the base of his skull, while the other brushed through his hair. The witch stilled at the grip on his neck, an unexplainable modicum of relief settling through him for a moment. “I think I know what’s wrong, darling. I’ll take care of you, just try to relax, okay?” The vampire gathered Markus back up in his arms and the witch whined when the hand left his neck and the pain returned full force. “Shhhh, I know, I know.” 

 Lucien strode through the hallways quickly, allowing Markus to bury his face in the crook of his neck as he quivered with pain in his arm. The vampire’s scent was inoffensive to his sensitive nose, like vanilla and rose. They took two turns and Lucien swept through a doorway into a warmer area. The witch couldn’t summon even an ounce of curiosity for where he was, he didn’t care, the pain was everything. 

He was placed on something soft that smelled like the vampire, his arms and legs stretched out, hands untangled from the vampire’s shirt, and covered by something warm and comforting. Markus turned his head, moaning as the pain started pulsating through his body in wracking waves. 

“I’ll be right back, darling. Don’t move.” He heard the vampire’s bare feet pad away, rushed in a way that he’d never heard before. 

Markus knew what happened when he disobeyed Lucien. He didn’t want to disobey. But it just hurt, everything hurt, so much. He curled on his side, fisting his hair in both of his hands, his breaths hitching in his chest. He sobbed, arching up, trying to stretch out his back and arching forward, needing the pain to go away. He was writhing, not staying still, not able to keep from moving. If he didn’t move then the pain would catch up to him and rip him open from the inside. Stopstopstop. 

The vampire returned quickly to Markus curled up in as tight of a ball as possible. Quick breaths jittering through his lean frame. A cold hand carded through Markus’s hair and he whimpered, “‘m sorry, please, please, didn’t mean too, sorry.” 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, no punishments today.” Something warm touched his back and Markus shuddered. “Just a hot weight, easy. Can you stretch on your front for me, darling?” He tried to obey, muscles gathering and pushing, trying to turn over. He was so tired and it hurt so much. “Good job, let me help you.” The vampire’s cold fingers maneuvered his limps, more on his side than on his front so that his neck was not cricked in a painful angle. The vampire moved the warm weight to lay along the length of his spine, a gentle pressure that seemed to pulse into the winched muscles. “I’ve got something else for your face, okay? Don’t jump.” Something cold and damp lay across his eyes and Markus gave a grateful sigh. 

The items helped but Markus groaned as another wave of pain rolled through him, fisting what he assumed was bedsheets in his hands. He could feel his heartbeat thumping far too quickly in his throat and he knew that Lucien could sense it. The vampire carded his hand through his hair and pressed on the cloth over his eyes. “Easy, darling, shhhh.” 

Markus tried to let the items do their work but he quickly became agitated again. The pain was unrelenting. He clenched his teeth, sucking air through his teeth and tried to move. His legs shifting under the blankets. “‘lease. . . “ he begged, “. . . hurts . . . “ 

“I know, darling,” Lucien’s voice was a quiet rumble, “I can do something for the pain but you have to want it—“ his hand carded down through his hair and over his neck “— and I know how much you hate it.”  The witch knew what he meant in the back of his mind even though his brain was too fried to form the full thought. Some types of vampires could bite and bring pleasure to someone who wanted it. It was one of their perks, how they drew in willing prey. 

The witch drew in a shuddering sob. He hated being bitten, hated the feeling of it, the ownership involved. 

But he hurt so much. 

“Please, Lucien,” he whimpered, “please.”

He heard the vampire give a surprised inhale and the hand on its journey through his hair tightened. Markus whined, distress plain in the note of pain. The hand immediately released, “I’m sorry, darling, shhh. Of course, I’ll help you.” The vampire climbed onto the bed, his weight displacing Markus from his settled position, and laid down behind the witch. 

Markus shivered when the vampire gathered him up in his arms, displacing the wet cloth, his arm going under his head to maneuver him how he wanted him. Pain pulsed behind Marksus’s eyelids and through his skull and he moaned at the way the movement renewed the agony in his entire body. 

Lucien shushed him, lips just pressing to his neck. “Easy, darling, I’ll take care of you.” A hand rubbed lazily up and down Markus’s side, “Ready?” 

For an answer, the witch whimpered, pressing back against the vampire. 

Lucien shuddered, “Okay, okay, darling.” The vampire’s fangs pressed against the flesh of his throat and a gasp of pain pushed through Markus’s lips when they pierced into his vein but it was quickly replaced by a sigh of relief as a trickle of pleasure pulsed through his body with the vampire’s venom. Markus felt every one of his muscles release, like snapping taught strings, and he leaned back into Lucien’s hold. 

Pain dripped from his body in a slow cascade and Markus moaned. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks with salty tears leaking from the corners. Markus’s breathing and heartbeat slowed and one by one his fingers released their death grip on the sheets. A steady haze rolled over his brain and he quivered, confused about going from pain to pleasure so quickly. He sighed when the vampire pulled him closer, their bodies becoming flush against each other when the vampire grabbed at his hip.

It didn’t take long for him to give a soft murmur of distress, unable to move or pull away from the predator behind him when he felt his hands start to tremble and go numb. Too much. The vampire had been feeding often and it didn’t take long for Markus to lose too much blood. His heart felt hollow where it thumped at his sternum. 

Lucien pulled back from Markus’s neck after a few more seconds, the witch barely conscious, licking the puncture wounds closed. “There you go, darling.” His free hand brushed through Markus’s hair, soothing, before pulling the covers over him. “Rest, you’ll feel better when you wake up.” 

Markus didn’t fight the call of sleep. His breaths coming soft and slow.