#it's just a simple case of deja vu nothing else

[shotmrmiller]

tw:somno

living next door to ghoap and while they (mostly Johnny) like to strike up conversation with you whenever you're getting your mail or tossing out the trash, lately, they've been catching you at every opportunity. even before work and they'll keep you around long enough to almost make you late.

maybe that's why you've suddenly started having raunchy dreams about them both. (but what makes it weird is that they're never together. it's only ever one or the other.) it's hard keeping the shame that sits hot in your chest below the collar of your shirt when you always end up cornered by either johnny or simon just to ask you how you've been recently, if you've slept well, that your skin is glowing.

how can you tell them that you've been getting the best sleep you've had in months because every other night, you've been having an actual orgasm or three to your wet dreams? that you've been waking up in the morning with release sticking your inner thighs together, your sex hot and tender to the touch because (in your imagination) he and his boyfriend eat pussy like it's the last one on they'll ever have?

none of this would be an issue if you just had you a nice boyfriend to give you the attention your neighbors have been forcing upon giving you.

(you don't. you give them a shaky smile, a weak excuse and run straight to your flat. it prompts johnny to chide simon for being so overzealous with you. "told ye to give 'er a few to recover, ye'd gone into 'er room just two days ago," as if he hadn't lapped up all the slick you'd left on simon's face after an hour of eating you out. as if johnny wasn't the one to suckle on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh long enough to leave the mark you'd confused for a bruise. hypocrisy at its finest.)

[luveline]

Jade, if you don't mind, I'd love to see more of Spencer with a badass!reader who doesn't want to show much emotion bc it's a bit hard for her :)

Have a nice day<33

thank u!

cw graphic imagery + minor character death 

The gunshot is loud. It's deafening. It's deja vu. 

Spencer watches the body collapse in on itself with ears ringing, a pitching forward, a mess where a head used to be hitting the tiled floor. Barely a teenager, snuffed to nothing. You collapse onto your knees beside it, the sound of your knee caps connecting with the floor the only distinctive sound to his ears. He can't hear Hotch, rarely pissed, and he can't hear the sirens outside. He can't hear any of it. 

Blood spray on your cheek transfers to his hand as he remembers himself, falling onto his knees beside you, gore sinking into his pants. It's hot in its pool, colder where it's painted your face, the spray metallic as he swipes it away from your eyelashes. "Are you okay?" he asks, trying to meet your eyes. 

Your gaze is a thousand miles away. You won't look at him. He forces your chin up and it doesn't matter; you aren't present, no you behind your eyes. 

He applies pressure to your face. Nothing cruel, enough to drag you back to the present as his thumb sets about stroking a soft line, the only softness he can offer right now. "Are you okay?" he asks again. He says your name. 

You barely blink. 

"Take her outside, Reid," Hotch says, pointless EMTs creeping into the room. They're there to confirm death. Nothing else. "Just take her out." 

Spencer hooks you under the arms and drags you up against his chest. You're rigid, dead weight, and he has to plead with you to get you moving. "Come on," he says, his arm behind your back. 

Morgan sees the struggle. He has questions of his own, but all his off-kilter teasing and pet names fall on deaf ears as the two men help you outside and onto a low flower bed wall. You seem to snap back into action, then, breath suddenly quick and hands stretching out to touch your blood slick knees. You visibly fret at the staining of your palms and wipe your hands down your calves, a bundle of harsh movements. 

"It's okay," Spencer says. 

"Does she need a medic?" Morgan asks. He sounds angry, somehow. Spencer knows it to be a manifestation of his worry for you in your reluctant friendship. 

You turn to Spencer, eyes imploring. 

"No," Spencer says, "just give us a minute." 

Morgan squints. A minute, he seems to agree, and not a second longer. You're quick to anger, sure, but quicker to logic, and your shock is catching everyone unprepared. You've never reacted like this. Spencer has never seen you on your knees like that. 

"I'm sorry," you say, touching his thigh. Your voice is barely your own, thready and hoarse. "I tried." 

"I know you tried. I know you did, you have nothing to be sorry for." Spencer's reeling himself. They haven't had a case like this in years, and it hits the same. Another bullied kid failed by the people around him, who could've hurt hundreds of people, who could've killed them, and killed you. It's complicated but remarkably simple. "He was going to hurt you." 

"We could've–" You choke on something, some suggestion of a what-if.

You don't let yourself connect to people on cases. You have sympathy for victims, empathy, but you don't react like this. You're like Emily in that you compartmentalise everything you can. You've never spoken about past cases and what you might change, never even suggested to him that you think about your failings after they've happened, until now. 

"I don't know what happened," you say, your voice near whining, high-pitched and logged with panic as you stare down at your legs and cover your face, as though you don't want him to see you. 

You turn away from him. 

"It's okay," he says. He tries to be soft but his adrenaline is coasting, his reassurance panicked. You sound like you're in pain. 

"I don't know what happened," you insist, covering the back of your head with your hands as you curl in on yourself. 

You don't cry. Spencer wasn't expecting you too. You just panic, tensed, turned away from him, and flinch at his attempts to touch you. "Don't. I'm fine," you force out. 

"You're not fine. You don't have to be fine," he stands up and you flicker, hands pushing down harder. Spencer covers them with his own and sighs. "It's okay. It's okay." He drops to a whisper. "It's okay, you're okay." 

You're hard to comfort, but it's not impossible. Spencer isn't stupid. He knows if this were anyone else touching you, you'd have sprung from your makeshift seat or pushed them away, but he's lucky in that you seem to have this tender spot for him, a sweetness that never wanes. He drifts in closer and hugs your head to his abdomen, one arm covering your hands until they fall, the other across your back. 

Your job is your job, but there is nothing wrong with needing comfort after seeing something horrific. "It's okay if you don't feel how you were expecting," he says, rubbing a half-circle into your back.

"It's hard… for me. This is…" 

You don't finish. It doesn't matter. Spencer paused any action to hold you, his eyes shuttering closed, dumb to any sound beside the strange shudder in your breath as you catch it. You've always had a talent for removing Spencer from his surroundings; you've looked at him and snagged him out of time. He never knew it could happen like this, though. You struggle to fall apart and Spencer doesn't know if he should hold you together or let it hurt. 

Whatever you do… "I'm here," he says, rubbing your back. 

You wrap your arms around his waist. 

[bokunosimpfiction]

Demon!Dimitrescux Reader

Synopsis: Lady Dimitrescu reveals herself as a demon that has made it her personal mission to guard you after what you believe is the case of worst/best timing of your entire life. No trigger warnings. 1.6k words.

A/N: This took me less than two hours to write/publish this. I needed this out of my system ASAP

             The black Toyota Corolla had to look strangely familiar your first pass down the street. It reminded you of your boyfriend’s car, and you swore that the digits of the license plate must have been one or two off his, and the generic pine tree air freshener must have been a different color. Not to mention the woman in the backseat with a cocktail dress on.

             You chose not to think about it as you walked into the 7-11 in nothing but your pajamas and the pair of crocs you haven’t worn since being on the college swim team. It wasn’t hard to decide what to grab off the shelves. A bag of chips store brand sour patch kids and gummy worms, a two-liter of Pepsi, and a bottle of wine too big for one person. The cashier looked just as tired as you did, and you understood what it was like, barely, time is a social construct that distanced you deeply from the night shifts you pulled at this same store while in college. Nine to five shifts (Dolly Parton shifts, your coworker would call them with a smile) were only better because you could sit down and have a stable sleep schedule. It was the same grueling work, and in your case, you had to deal with the same shitty people that complained about things you can’t control.

             His droning voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. “The total is forty-eight fifty-seven.” He was either crying in the backroom while you were picking out your chips or hit a massive dab, you weren’t sure, but his red eyes made either option feasible. You didn’t comment on it, only handing him two twenties and a ten and taking the change back before walking out the door. You didn’t say anything to him, and vice versa, which you appreciated because you didn’t have the energy to deal with a chatty Kathy right now. And as you pull yourself down the street, your bag of crap from 7-11 in your hand, you pass that same deja-vu-mobile and look at the stickers on the back.

             The same I love my dog and proud cat-dad stickers in the exact same place, the dent on the right side of the bumper, and the license plate that was in fact, one hundred percent his. Which begs the question, who was the girl in the cocktail dress, and what was she doing in the backseat? The question didn’t matter for long because the car promptly burst into flames. Oh well. Wait.

The.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             It’s your boyfriend’s car.

Your

Boyfriends.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             You wipe out your phone to call the fire department when you see the girl in the same cocktail dress crawl out of the car, dress pulled up to her waist, barefoot and mascara streaming down her face. She’s violently beating his clutch against the ground, desperate to put out the flames while your boyfriend slams the door open on the other side and throws himself out full force onto the asphalt of the busy street. He looks up and sees the anger in your eyes.

             “Hey, babe.”

             “I-I-can-” he stutters violently. His face was red in anger and blood dripping from his nose due to the face-first collision with the freshly paved street.

             “We’re over.”

             You do him the favor of calling the fire department for his car and walk off as soon as you hear the sirens of the firetruck. You didn’t have anything to do with it. No need to watch the fallout when you had nothing to do with the disaster. Besides, your soda’s getting cold, you wanted to drink that before it got Luke-warm. You ended up dropping off the crap and walking to the 24-7 grocery store a little farther in the other direction to get ice cream. Standing in the frozen aisle, in nothing but your pajamas, bright red crocs, and moist eyes, you try and decide between the weird, nuanced flavors that all taste like vanilla anyhow.

             You look up towards the top shelf when you notice the woman leaning over you. She’s deathly pale, skin as pale as paper and lipstick so red it glowed compared to everything else. Her huge hat would make a shadow on her face if it weren’t propped right above her hairline.

             “So, did you enjoy the show sweet-heart,” she whispers in your ear. You feel her breath on your neck and her gaze freezes your heart. “You didn’t think that his car catching on fire was a happy accident now did you?”

             You turn around, only not to see her behind you, but on the fogged-up glass doors on the other side of the aisle. “Did you really think that I’d be standing right behind you?” Her question is almost taunting.

             “Who are you?”

             She breathes into her elegant pipe only to blow out to re-fog the glass before staring dead into your eyes and saying the words that changed your life forever. “I’m your guardian demon.”

             You honestly thought you were losing your mind, seeing this woman in the glass, telling you she was a demon who set your ex’s car on fire. (It felt odd to call him that, you had been dating him for three years). Her elegant leg steps through the glass, her dress riding up to just below her knee before it hit the ground and the rest of her flowed into our realm as smoothly as her dress swayed when she walked over to you.

             She was almost twice your height, and the view from where she stood in front of you made her feel even more so tall. “So mortal, what do you have to say, knowing that you have a five-hundred-year-old all-powerful demon protecting you?”

             “What happened to my guardian angel?”

             She scoffs. “You never had one. Most people nowadays have guardian angels, in fact, I’ve only heard of one other mortal who hasn’t had one that’s alive right now.”

             “What do you mean?” You can’t help but ask. There’s an entire world of things you didn’t understand. Angels. Demons. Hell, even bigfoot could be real for all you know.

             “Well, darling, there is a very simple answer to that question: there are only so many angels for so many mortals, and so sometimes a few slip through the cracks of the system, and that’s where we step in.” She moves around to the refrigerator next to you and inspects the sorbets. “Despite what the church tells you, us demons love humans. They’re a claim to social status. You bring a human home, and you’re viewed as wealthy, famous even.”

             “So that’s what you get out of taking a person’s soul in a deal.”

             She turns to you. “When I what now?”

             “Ya’ know,” you say, “a person makes a deal with a demon in exchange for money or fame, and when they die their soul belongs to the demon and they’re doomed to eternal hell yada-yada-yada.”

             “Is that what they’re teaching you, now.”

             “At least that’s what my mother says. I didn’t really believe in any of this stuff till you stepped out of the door and said you set my ex’s car on fire.”

             “I would have done it sooner, but you looked so happy with him, it was difficult to pull that away from you,” she sighs before standing up to her full height, “that woman he was with was going to give you HPV and I’d prefer the human I fought tooth and nail over to not get an STD. I would never have let that stupid-man-thing touch you had I known he would cheat on you with a mortal so… infected.” What an interesting word to decide to land on.

             She turns and waltzes back across the aisle with a grace that has long been lost to time. “And besides, you’re better off without him, with him off your mind you’ll be able to take that new project on at work and get that raise you’ve been needing so badly.”

             You’re still trying to process this. “You mentioned that you only heard of one other mortal with a demon guardian. Who is he?”

             “His name doesn’t matter, all I really care about is that damn man-child, Heisenberg, is watching him, which means he won’t be alive much longer.”

             “Do you kill us?”

             She puts her hand to her chest and looks genuinely offended before her features soften when she realizes you had never met a demon in your entire life not to mention even believing in them. “We would never. Our humans are like our children, and while we may not be able to subtle pull strings to protect those that we watch over, we do have our more… direct ways of protecting them.”

             “Like setting his car on fire.”

             “I’ve done worse things to keep you safe.”

             Your face pales, but your curiosity brightens your eyes. “Like what?”

             “Your so demand, child, but remember when lightning struck the tree in your backyard, and it fell and landed on your neighbor fifteen or so years ago?”

             You can’t formulate words.

             “Or how your car broke down on the side of the road so you couldn’t reach the hotel you booked?”

             “You did that!”

             “They were going to steal your luggage!” She scoffs before taking a long drag from her pipe. “Anymore, questions?”

             “Is Jesus real?”

             “I wasn’t there for that, and if he was, he hasn’t left his fluffy little sky bed since being nailed to that goddamn cross.”

             “One more.”

             “It better not be stupid, darling.”

             “What ice cream should I get?”

             Her soft smile returns. “Get the java-chip, but the one right behind the front one, there’s a little extra than usual in that container.”

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker Pt. 5

Author’s Note: Okay I’m having so much fun writing this and I think this is my favorite chapter so far. I’m still looking for a beta reader/someone to bounce ideas off of btw!

Warnings: some sexual tension, anxiety, more suggestive comments from Whiskey

Word Count: 2,836 (these chapters just keep getting longer oops)

Not A Whiskey Drinker Masterlist

------------

As you stood in front of your closet you contemplated what to pack. The two of you were going to be away for a week but Whiskey never bothered to tell you what to bring or what the two of you would be doing. You assumed it would be some sort of training but everything you knew about secret agent training was from Bond movies. You decided on some workout clothes, a pair of jeans that were comfortable but you could still move in, random shirt, sports bra, and a thick jacket. Last minute you added a standard work outfit and a cute dress just in case. Your packing was interrupted by your phone ringing.

“Hey Parker.” you said, answering the call and pressing the speaker button so you could continue with your packing.

“What’re you doing this coming Friday? My parents are coming to visit and they miss you!”

“Oh I have to go on a work trip with Whiskey.”

“So you guys have nicknames for each other now huh?”

“It seems to be a rite of passage to have an alcohol related nickname at this company.”

“Is it also a rite of passage to go on a work trip with you boss?”

“Parker it’s not like that. He just needs me to trail him during some normal meetings. It’s the same thing as here but just at the Kentucky branch.” you recited the coverup that Whiskey had told you.

“Ugh I swear to god if you don’t make a move on this man I will.”

“I don’t know how your boyfriend would feel about that.”

“You know I’m joking. Just stay safe hm?” Parker said, without realizing how accurate her words were. You definitely took into account the possibility of coming back to the city with a couple new bruises.

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

------------

Your anxiety for the rest of the weekend was higher than you wanted considering you had no idea what to expect to happen on the trip. It didn’t help that you hated flying. Hopefully you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself in public. But considering it was Monday morning at 5:30 and you were making your way to Whiskey’s apartment you really didn’t have time to focus on your phobia.

You knew that Whiskey would have to live in a fancy building considering the part of the city he lived in, but stopping in front of one of the nicest brownstones you had ever seen was still a shock. Putting your bag down you pressed the doorbell and waited. Swinging open the door there stood Whiskey.

“Ready darlin’?”

“As ready as I can be I suppose.”

After hailing a cab and starting the drive to the airport the two of you sat in silence. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel awkward. You welcomed the comfortable quiet considering it was still early. Eventually the cab pulled up to the airport and the two of you made your way through security. It wasn’t until you were sitting at your gate that your anxiety started to bubble up again, your leg bouncing. Suddenly a warm hand was place on  top of your thigh, stopping your anxious tic.

“Nervous?”

“I have a fear of flying.” you said quietly, not looking at Whiskey.

“Don’t worry darlin’ I’ll be here the whole time. You can hold my hand if you need.” said Whiskey in a calming voice. You were surprised he wasn’t being flirty about it. Hearing this comforted you. Whiskey didn’t remove his hand from your thigh til you had to board the plane.

You sat down in your seat and took a deep breath as the flight attendant starting going through the safety procedures, the plane rumbling as it made its way down the tarmac. Closing your eyes you braced yourself for takeoff. You were pretty much okay during flights minus takeoff, landing, and turbulence. Whiskey noticed your hand firmly gripping the arm rest and reached over to grab it. He gave your hand a quick squeeze. You welcomed the gesture, knowing he was doing it out of kindness.

“I’m right here darlin’. You can squeeze my hand as tight as you need.”

Overall the flight was pretty smooth, only hitting turbulence once or twice. Even though the flight wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, you never let go of Whiskey’s hand.

“You did it.” said Whiskey, smiling at you once the plane landed.

The old lady who shared the trio of seats with you two leaned over.

“You two make an adorable couple.” she said. “Reminds me of my youth.”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck. You corrected her, but as Whiskey stood up to grab his bag from the overhead container she leaned in close. 

“With the way that man looks at you he sure as hell wants more with you than whatever your current relationship is.”

Grabbing your bags the two of you made your way out the airport. Outside stood a man, also in a cowboy hat, that you recognized from the meeting Whiskey had you sit in on.

“Tequila.” he said, stretching out his hand.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.” you said, taking his hand and giving it a shake.

“Oh the pleasure is all mine.” as he gave a wink.

Whiskey gave Tequila a firm pat on the back and put your bags into the back of the car and off you were to Statesman Brewery, Kentucky location. You were staring out the window, you had never been to Kentucky before. Sure it didn’t have as much to look at as New York, but you were still interested nonetheless.

“So Y/N,” said Tequila, looking at you through the rearview mirror. “I heard you’re stuck with this old man.”

“Yeah well this old man still has some moves.”

“Is every agent here a caricature of a cowboy?” you said, meeting Tequila’s gaze in the mirror.

“I have a feeling you’ll fit right in.” Tequila flashed you a bright smile.

The rest of the car ride was filled with Tequila and Whiskey chatting and catching up. You occasionally chimed in to make a snarky comment at Whiskey’s expense, Tequila consistently laughing at your remarks.

“I am not an old man Tequila! I still got it.”

“Well how old are you?” you asked.

Whiskey coughed and mumble some number in the late 30s/early 40s.

“And when did you last get it?” said Tequila.

You laughed loudly at Tequila’s joke. He seemed to have the same penchant for taking the piss at Whiskey. Whiskey looked at you through the rearview mirror, your eyes were shut tight, mouth open with the most beautiful laughter coming from it. Sure he’d heard you laugh before, but never this deeply. He’d suffer through thousands of Tequila’s insults just to hear you laugh like that again.

The car stopped and you got out, looking up at the building in front of you.

“A whiskey bottle? Really?”

“Come on, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying.” said Tequila, motioning for you to follow him. Grabbing your bag you trailed Tequila to a cellar filled with barrels.

“I hope I’m not staying here.” Tequila just smiled and revealed a secret door. Below the cellar was the most high tech space you had ever seen. Everything was white and silver �� it looked like a scene out of a sci-fi movie.

“This is where you’re staying.”

Tequila walked down the halls, smirking at the way you ogled at your surroundings. Making a sharp turn the two of you stopped at a door. Opening the door you were greeted by a simple room that had the same color scheme as the rest of the building. It was sleek and modern and felt like the nicest hotel room you had ever stayed in. Placing your bag on the floor you padded over to the bed and experimentally pushed the mattress with your hands. It felt expensive.

“Like the place?” came the drawl that you recognized as Whiskey’s. You had to admit that Tequila’s accent was attractive, but it was nothing compared to Whiskey’s deep baritone.

“Come on it’s time to meet Champ.”

Swallowing you followed Whiskey and Tequila out of the secret doors and into the main building to the top floor. It felt like deja vu. The three of you reached a set of wooden double doors. Inside was a nice boardroom that reminded you of the one in New York, but nicer, if that was even possible. At the head of the table sat an older man in a brown cowboy hat who you could only assume was Champagne.

“So this is the new recruit eh?” said Champagne, standing and striding over to shake your hand.

“Thank you for considering me Mr. Champagne.” you said, grabbing his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Oh just call me Champ. Come sit, we have some information to discuss. Whiskey, Tequila, if you could give the two of us some privacy.” he said, waving his hand to dismiss the men.

As the doors closed behind Whiskey and Tequila, the younger man spun around.

“She’s somethin’ else Whiskey.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“If you don’t make a move I will.” replied Tequila, leading against the wall with a glint in his eyes, eyebrows raising. Whiskey’s jaw tightened, his hands making tight fists. “Wish I was training her.”

Whiskey rolled his eyes at the remark and waited outside the boardroom for you to finish with Champ. Fifteen minutes later the door opened to reveal Champ, a wide smile on his face.

“Ah, Whiskey you’re still here, perfect. Come on in.”

Whiskey followed him and sat down in the chair across from you. Taking a seat with a grunt Champ turned to Whiskey.

“I have to admit while I was originally… apprehensive about your suggestion to have her as an agent she surprised me.” you smiled at the compliment. “She’s quite the charmer, a spitfire too.”

“Don’t I know it.” muttered Whiskey.

“While I do like you quite a bit,” Champ said, turning to face you. “I’ll still have to see how you are in action. You start training with Whiskey tomorrow. 6am sharp.”

You swallowed. You were not an early riser and the thought of having to do what was most likely going to be the toughest workout of your life at such an early time created a pit in your stomach. It was in this moment that you realized this was real.

“Come on darlin’. I gotta show off a bit before we see what you’re made of tomorrow.”

You and Whiskey left the boardroom, you gave Champ and small wave and he smiled back.

“I like Champ a lot, reminds me of my grandpa.”

“Champs a good guy. Bit stubborn, but you’re no stranger to that concept.”

“Shut up.” you said, giving Whiskey a little shove.

Whiskey and you returned to the secret entrance and walked through the underground offices. You were met with a room the size of a basketball court that had a huge window so you could see inside from the hallway. Walking inside Whiskey positioned you at one end of the room and made his way to the other end.

“Now I want you to stay right here.”

Opening one of the lockers that resided in the sparring room he grabbed his training lasso. Sauntering back to his original spot his hands tingled and he wiggled his fingers. He always got a surge of excitement when the opportunity to use his lasso and whip arose. Slowly he started to spin the rope, a circle forming. The rope circle rose as it spun and in a flash the rope was around your mid section. With a sharp pull you were dragged towards Whiskey, luckily he caught you before you could fall forward, your hands stuck in the rope. Whiskey smirked.

“Deja vu darlin’.” He pulled the rope over you head and you were freed.

“Wow.”

“I’m quite handy with a rope. Now,” he took off his Stetson, placing it on your head. It was a little big on you and you had to tip it back slightly so it didn’t block your vision. “I want you to go back to your spot and don’t move.” Whiskey’s eyes darkened with the serious tone. You swallowed and nodded your head, unsure of what was about to happen.

Once again his hands started to tingle. As much as he enjoyed his lasso, his whip is where his love truly resided. Cracking his neck he grabbed the hand attached to his hip and quickly released the rope that was positioned snug inside the mechanism.

The whip cracked loudly and your eyes widened. Whiskey smirked at your response, the usual reaction to people seeing him use his weapon for the first time. Raising his eyebrows he cracked the whip once again. You felt a whoosh of air next to your face, the crack sounding loud in your ear and suddenly the hat he had placed on your head was laying on the floor next to you. Your jaw dropped. You weren’t going to tell Whiskey, but there was a warmth that spread to your abdomen. He was hot. Whiskey just smiled and walked over to pick up his hat, placing it back on his head.

“Tomorrow, here, 6am just as Champ said.” the sound of Whiskey’s voice broke your trance. “We’ll do some simple sparring and see how you fare.”

------------

You groaned at the sound of your alarm clock stirring you from your sleep. You dreamt of whips and cowboy and the distinct smell of Whiskey and something you couldn’t quite place. Pushing the button to stop the blaring of your phone you glanced down.

5am.

Sighing you pulled on a pair of leggings, your sports bra, and a tight shirt that wouldn’t get in the way of your movement. Making your way to the small cafeteria that was housed near your room you made yourself some breakfast and of course, a cup of tea. At 5:50 you made your way to the sparring room, mentally prepping yourself for whatever Whiskey had in store.

You were greeted by the backside of Whiskey. You were surprised by his appearance. Instead of jeans or a suit he was wearing some shorts and a tight t shirt, cowboy boots replaced by sneakers and hat nowhere to be seen. Whiskey could feel your eyes searing into the back of his head. Spinning around he greeted you with a smile.

“See something you like?”

“Sorry,” you coughed. “I guess I was just expecting the standard get up from you.”

Whiskey just shrugged and before you knew it you were on your back, the wind knocked out of you.

“Whiskey what the fuck.”

“Gotta be prepared darlin’.”

Taking a deep breath you stood back up and rushed the man. The two of you grappled for a bit. Admittedly, Whiskey wasn’t expecting you to stay upright as long as you had, but once again he gained the upper hand and knocked you down. You came face to face with Whiskey, his weight pushing into you. You narrowed your eyes and quickly flipped Whiskey on his back, straddling him and pinning his arms. His eyes widened, a surge of arousal running through his body.

“Got ya.” you said with a proud smile.

The next few hours were spent with more sparring. Whiskey teaching you proper form, how to sweep your opponent’s legs, and some boxing moves. Of course you took a break for lunch and several pauses for water. Around 4pm you were exhausted, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Without thinking you pulled off your shirt to use it as a towel, exposing your sports bra underneath.

“Didn’t know I was gonna get a show.” said Whiskey. You threw your shirt at his face.

“You’ve seen me in less. Shut up.”

Whiskey chuckled, remembering the sight of you wrapped in a towel and he tossed the shirt back to you.

“Well it seems like we’re done for the day. Same time tomorrow, same thing.”

------------

The next couple days were spent the same way. You met Whiskey in the sparring room at 6am, grappled for a bit, took a lunch break, did some more practice, and ended around 4. You groaned at the end of today’s practice. Your shoulder feeling sore from a punch Whiskey threw.

“Same thing tomorrow?” you asked, rotating your arm trying to loosen your arm up.

“We’ll meet at 9,” you furrowed your brow, confused by the added three hours. “pm.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“We’re starting a new lesson.”

“At 6pm?” You shook your head. “I don’t follow, why would we spar that late in the day?”

“Not sparring sugar, seduction.” you shivered at the way the word rolled off his tongue.

“What?”

“Fighting isn’t the only way to get information. You’ll meet me at the bar tomorrow and you’ll try to get information out of me using your feminine charm.”

You blinked, shocked by Whiskey’s words.

“See you then. And remember: I’m not Whiskey tomorrow, just another adversary.”

And with that Whiskey left you standing in the middle of the room, mouth wide open.

taglist: @absurdthirst @space-daddy-owns-me @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @littlemissoblivious @agingerindenial @mack4676 @loveforminato @thats-one-tender-foot @xwingsandohs @purplepascal042 @harami-mami @nova646 @lesbianlena @computeringturtle @cassandras-nest @fourtypercent0ff @demoneyesanddamagedsouls

[jaefluenza]

In Case You Don’t Love Yourself | J.jh

word count: 2,4k words

pairing: Jaehyun x prostitute!reader

warning: suicide attempt, suggestive content, mention of sex, arm-cutting, drugs, self loathing etc

a/n : i didn’t write this to mock or use the idea of not loving and appreciating ourselves, but through this little package of scenario i would like to pass on a message that; you cannot truly love another until you know how to love yourself. be proud of who you are, and not ashamed of how someone else sees you. forgive yourself and seek help from professionals or loved ones if needed. remind yourself every day that you’re not alone :) i’m here with all of u <3

I am very much aware that I am in a place where everyone thought is wrong and sinful. Everyone has to hide whenever they'd want to taste and jump into this particular world where they call it the devil's lair, but I get to taste and feel it almost every day.

Everyone eyes me with lust and greed, but no one ever looks at me with even one hint of respect. I know that I don't deserve any of it, but what about love, appreciation, and self-worth? I keep looking for them, oh, I swear I'd chase them to the end of the world. But my dirty body and this filthy mind of mine are banning me to look for who I really am. And I eventually came to the conclusion that I, a nobody in this big hellish world, do not deserve a single fucking love.

Sometimes, I thank God for allowing me to see the rays of sunshine through the small window in my miserable apartment, even though I'm not sure if He was listening. No one ever wants to listen to any of my prayers. I too, sometimes, are listening to people begging the Almighty, to forgive their sins almost every weekend. But that makes me do a lot more thinking, will He ever forgive me? I don't know, who would I ask?

That was until I met Jung Jaehyun.

Working in a place where I met a lot of dirty old men, some young perverts, and curious male students, I didn't expect myself to find a soulmate in any place in the world. For fuck’s sake, I couldn't even find myself. A soulmate? Sounds needy. But that one night, I didn't even know it changed me for the better.

He came with his two friends. One with long beautiful blonde mullet, and one with astonishing pink hair. Him? Not really that special, just a dazzling golden brown hair. I was so awe-struck by the three of them, and I knew that they couldn't just land in this kind of place without actually getting lost. There's no way that they instinctively came here to seek touch from a woman, I thought. But I was wrong.

"The name's Jung Jaehyun. And I would like to order three champagnes for the night. We're celebrating," He ordered with a gorgeous wink. I took his order, and as usual, I offer the services of the ladies we have here. Surprisingly, they didn't ask for any list just like any other guys did. He chose me. By the means of him, yes, only him chose me. The other guys bluntly said that they weren't coming for the sex, but he was. I immediately said yes and two hours with hell-like sexual tension later, I found myself having fun with the devil with him in the VVIP bedroom.

The only thing good from having this job was you got your sexual needs fulfilled, as any other human beings would say. And the only thing bad from having to be this kind of woman was you never got to find love. Moaning each other's names even though you only heard it like fifteen minutes ago never gives you the kind of love that everyone kept talking about. The lust-filled kisses you'd get every night will never compare to the ones they said will sweep you off your feet. They feel either as rough as if an abuser would grab a fist of your hair.

But that one particular night felt faithfully different. Jung Jaehyun kissed me like it was the last night he would ever see me. Jung Jaehyun stripped my upper top as if he would open a whole new fragile world. He sucked on my body like I am the most precious thing in the world. He made me feel like, maybe, I deserve some love in a tiny space called moment. Hang on, was that even love?

I had no idea, but some ideas did come to me at the moment. Something like adoration? Appreciation? Everything that sounds like love and affection.

And when I thought he kissed me so passionately like it was the last time he was gonna see me, we never ended there. He got my number, and I thought I was just gonna be a call girl.

He did call me two days after that hook-up, and I expected him to request me already naked in a sexy nightgown somewhere in a fancy motel, but no. You wouldn't believe me, but he requested my presence in a small cozy cafe for a lunch date. I remember blinking at the sound of his delicate question, before actually saying yes to him. He replied with a simple, "nice" before telling me when we should meet. And for the first time, my heart beats quickly in excitement.

Do I want to end my life? Yes, sometimes. When I feel like my lungs are filled with guilts and regrets, I'd want to just disappear out of this uncaring world. No one would know, anyway. But life does not work that easy, right? When life would suffocate my little existence, I know I can not just end it. Instead, I have to keep on fighting. As much as how dirty and useless I am as a person, I still have these little rays of pride and hope.

Back to Jung Jaehyun. He took me on a real date, something that I couldn't believe truly happened that day. He paid for the lunch after we ordered some fish-and-chips and two glasses of peach ice tea which felt like a fancy dinner compared to the countless ramen cups I had almost every day.

And, though it may seem strange, we talked. Like, having a good conversation as actual human beings who love to chat with someone under good weather. He asked about how I've been living, and I lied about how I live just fine, even though I wasn't sure if he had noticed the glint of my shaky eyes. He casually informed me about his life, how he lives with other four boys in the apartment, before telling me that he is, as a matter of fact, a celebrity in a strained manner.

I didn't dare to judge him. I mean, who even am I to judge? Everyone would know that I am nothing but a piece of trash compared to what he is. He is far beyond me. And I plucked up the courage to ask him the question that had just popped in my mind with a bitter laugh, "If you're a singer, then why would you be sitting with me here in daylight, and not spending some time singing or slaying the stage like you usually do?"

And he unworldly answered, "Well, because I'm interested in you?"

I know it was wrong to lash out on him like that. I was confused, I was pissed that he said he was interested in me. It's like he was saying that I got to feel this whole new experience, just because he was interested in me. I could never understand why he would be fucking interested in me, while there are millions of women he could just pick out to be his, but me? Hell no.

Though there was a little bit of regret when I unpleasantly ended the date, I couldn't do anything besides shoving him off when he offered to send me home.

Jung Jaehyun was indeed a whole new experience to me. He didn't give up just like that. He might know that it would be uncomfortable for me to receive his text at the moment, so he came again to the pub. I bit my lips nervously when I offered him a drink which felt like deja vu, and he only smiled. "I would like you for the night."

I wasn't ready for the sex, though I secretly crave a second time with him, and he seemed to know that. We ended up at the same VVIP room just like we first met, but he didn't touch me.

I sat down as he told me so, and when I thought that it could be a hint of dominance in bed, he also sat next to me on the edge of the bed. "You're not going to touch me?" I asked. He shook his head, "As much as I want to, no. We're just going to talk." I knew that I couldn't lose to his pair of sharp eyes, so I sighed and listened to him.

"That lunch, I apologize if what I said to you was offending." He paused before looking straight into my eyes. His deep brown orbs dig through my own pair as if he was looking for something hidden in them. "You did not actually offend me, but I was just overreacting."

"May I perhaps... know your concerns?" Oh, how much I love that gentle voice. It gives me reassurance and calmness.

"I was just confused. Like, how come a snazzy person like you, be interested in me who is a literal nobody? I was just feeling like you make a joke out of me. I'm sorry I made you apologize," I explained.

He chuckled beautifully. "You don't have to be sorry. It is not wrong for you to think like that, I wouldn't judge you. But after almost a week of knowing you, you are not that worthless like what you have just said." And for once, I believed in someone.

We continue to seek each other, him occasionally trying to tell me to quit the dark nightlife, and me trying to adjust to his busy schedules. We called each other as lovers, and I could finally say that I found the love I never thought I could find. I ended up quitting my job sooner than I expected, and move into his newly bought apartment one month after we started dating.

But, does life finally give up on hammering me down?

To be in love with Jung Jaehyun would be an understatement. We love each other so much to the point that I started to forget my anxiety and insecurities in awhile. He made it clear to me every day that I am worthy of being myself, being loved, and being cared for. Every time I would look at the mirror, he would get there as quickly as he can, to reassure me that he loves me, for everything I am, and I believe in him.

But is that enough? I don't know. As much as he showers me with love and fondness, he's not home 24/7. He works for our future, as he promised. And those alone times would have me overthinking on the big lavish sofa, am I really worthy of his time? Why would he stay with me, a literal nobody who still needs her pills every night before she falls asleep to keep her calm?

Yes, I never told Jaehyun that I have meds to keep my sanity steady. I never told him that sometimes I ordered some syringes of sedatives to keep my cries away. He never gets the idea of what's behind the reason why I'm always able to smile in front of him.

I don't want him to know that I hate to cry alone, at the thought of being a useless parasite leaving under his wings. I don't want him to find out that I'm just a drug addict that makes him look like a fool trying to convince me that he truly loves me. And those negative thoughts would eventually turn into something bigger, something that'd make me walk staggering into the kitchen, to where we kept our knives.

I always promise myself that I need to keep on fighting, but sometimes, feeling enough was never enough. The more I convince myself that I can be happy with him in this full-of-twist life, the more those monsters crawl onto the back of my mind. I hate being whispered that I'm not good enough for him, and anybody else and that I don't deserve the love I've been dreaming of getting. It hurts, it's killing me inside. It feels like its thorns are ripping through my lungs as I try to slide the knife into my arm-

"What the fuck are you trying to do?!"

Jung Jaehyun opens the door as the exhaustion started to dart away from his body. He expected his lover to be greeting him with those lovely eyes, and a bear hug would be nice. But what he found as soon as he reached the kitchen has made his senses almost flying out of his mind.

She dropped the knife just as she heard the panic in his scream, eyes red from the fear of death. Scattered on the floor, there she is, sitting weakly while coming into a realization that she almost broke her own promise, to keep on fighting. "J-jae..."

Jaehyun immediately runs toward the poor woman. He quickly scoops her into his arms, hugging her close to make sure that she feels safe. His eyes stutter in the fear of losing her, worries start to creep into his brain about what if he was a minute late, or so. He sighed in relief in her ears, whispering a string of "Oh my goodness" as an indication of ease that she's still here with him.

He loves her with all his might, but why would she doubt him?

Loving Jung Jaehyun is not easy, as the journey wasn't even close to that yet. The first step is to love me first, to accept who I really am, and to forgive what I had in the past. Syringes and pills slowly disappear from my life, just after I found out that telling him and a professional my every story would help much better.

I learned how to see the future ahead, with the help of a man whom I'm trying to love dearly with all my imperfections. He no longer promises me things like he used to before, though it sounds so much reassuring whenever I hear them, but now his actions directly and clearly tell me that I'll be alright. We'll be just right. And I'm still learning to believe in myself and to believe in him as well.

I love you, Jung Jaehyun. I love myself, too.

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[takingcourage]

A Stroke of Serendipity

Pairing: Luke Harper x MC

Word Count: 1,850

Rating/Warnings: General; no warnings

Summary: During her first term at university, Helena discovers that there’s more to her housemate than meets the eye. 

Note: I'm not usually one to write AUs, but @choicesficwriterscreations​ ’s post about Silly Love Stories crossed my dash and I couldn’t resist trying a few. This story was written to fulfill the the prompt of "Roommates/Neighbor,” and takes place in a modern setting.

Despite the chill in the air, it was unseasonably warm for November. For the first day in weeks, the lawn was cluttered with students choosing to linger in the sunlight for just a bit longer than necessary before heading inside for their lectures. 

Making her way past the crowds, Helena unlocked her bike and mounted, finding equilibrium easily. She felt a tinge of shame with the memory of how daunting the task had seemed just weeks before. Keeping her coat out of the spokes and her backpack balanced had presented an unexpected challenge at the start of the term, and it had earned her more than one pitying glance from passersby.

Pumping the pedals, she picked up enough speed to glide over several lengths of sidewalk. Fellow students blurred as she moved past, their forms merging with her thoughts before they faded altogether, consumed by her ever-growing list of assignments.

When her estranged father had insisted on paying her way through university, she’d jumped at the opportunity -- goodness knew she didn’t want to work the till at Morrisons forever. At first, Vincent’s offer had seemed too good to be true. Nearing the end of her first term, however, reality was stripping away much of the mystique.

She gripped the handlebars a little tighter.

Being a student again was hard. Sharing a house with her brother and his roommates meant that the transition had been a little smoother, but being a first-year student in her twenties was complicated. Life away from Grovershire was complicated. Life without her mother was complicated... 

How she wished sometimes that life could be simple again.

Helena pushed herself through the next turn, traveling quickly enough for the wind to leave a pleasant sting behind on her rosy cheeks.

At this time of the afternoon, their street was still quiet. Students weren’t back from classes, and most everyone else wouldn’t return home from work until evening. Helena coasted up to the curb, taking a quick glance at their windows in an effort to determine who might be home this early in the day. For all appearances, she had the house to herself.

With a sigh that had more to do with relief than exertion, she put her bike away and unlocked the side door. Time alone would be welcome.

As the doorknob clicked open, the strains of a violin floating through dispelled any notion of solitude, though her momentary disappointment was soon replaced by curiosity. Was someone playing Tosca?

She halted briefly, shaking off her deja vu to find eager curiosity in its wake. Slipping her shoes onto the mat, she proceeded up the stairs toward the lounge. In spite of her quiet footfalls, the music ceased as soon as she hit the first creak.

“Don’t stop!” she called out, dismay lending her a boldness she rarely showed.

After a pause, the aria resumed with steady conviction.

It wasn't her stepbrother or Annabelle, of that she was certain. She might not have learned everything there was to know about Edmund in the past year, but she did know that guitar was the only instrument he dabbled in. She was equally sure that the closet she and Annabelle shared didn’t house a violin case either. Ernest had rushed home the night before to deal with family matters, which left her with only one possible conclusion: Luke. 

He was the roommate she knew the least, always so busy between his studies and his time in the lab that no one in the house saw very much of him. With a quirk of her lips, she decided it was entirely possible he could be a proficient musician without her knowing.

Her suspicions were confirmed as soon as she crested the stairs.

Violin still snug beneath his chin, he turned to face her slowly. Light streamed in from the window behind him, and Helena couldn’t help feeling that she’d stumbled upon something almost divine. Somewhere between the quality of the music and the intensity in his brow, she found herself enchanted. 

She’d known he was attractive: that much had been obvious since the day she’d met him at her father’s home some months before. He was tall and broad shouldered, and his eyes were a mystery she’d been trying to puzzle out since their first meeting. Sometimes, they were honeyed gold; others, they seemed impossibly green. As she watched him now, they fell closed in concentration. 

Helena’s breath caught before the final strains had begun to fade.

"I must have lost track of the time,” he started, lowering the instrument to his side as he addressed her. “I apologize."

"I'm back early.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “The fire alarm went off in our building, and after twenty minutes on the lawn they decided to send us all home." She tried not to draw attention to the fact that her eyes kept drifting toward his long, elegant fingers as he worked to secure the violin in its case. 

It had been months since they’d met: why wasn’t she used to the sight of him yet?

“I imagine you’ll be grateful for the time to study.”

Raising her eyes from the floor, she met his tentative smile with one of her own. “I am,” she agreed, shrugging her bag into the nearest chair. Though her studies were nothing rigorous compared to his own, she found herself grateful that he recognized her kindred spirit.

The click of the case snapped her back to reality. “Well, I won’t bother you."

With an accommodating nod, she turned away from him and toward the hall, but her mind lagged behind. Somehow, going upstairs to study wasn’t quite as appealing a prospect as it had been mere minutes before. "Actually, I think I’m going to make some coffee first,” she rushed before she could lose her nerve. “Would you want any if I did?"

"I'd like that."

"So," she began, attempting to stoke the conversation as she measured out the scoops of grounds. Somewhere between the second and third spoonful, she started to feel a little mischievous. "Do you always perform your concerts solo, or is that right reserved for Puccini?"

"You know Tosca?" he inquired, following her into the kitchen.

She smirked at the incredulity in his tone. “Not what you’d expect from a shopgirl from Grovershire, hmm?”

His face froze, and she immediately regretted the jest. “I didn’t mean to offend--”

“I'm joking. My mother loved listening to operas. I think I'd heard more arias by the time I started primary school than most of my classmates did by Year 10. There was always music playing somewhere in our flat."

“Ours too.”

They shared another small smile that left her feeling like the roof had opened and the sun was shining into their modest kitchen with full force.

“To answer your question...” he continued. “No, others suffered through my performances for years. Growing up, I think my family was sometimes sick of how much I played, though I always wondered if they hadn’t brought it on themselves by putting me in lessons. No one here signed on to hear it at all hours, so I mostly play when I’m alone.”

“I’m sorry I intruded, then.”

“I don’t mind. It was rather nice to have someone listen for a while.”  

“Maybe you’ll play again for me sometime?”

“I’d like that very much.” He gave a quiet laugh, and she felt heat rush over the fullness of her cheeks.

Hiding her blush, she put the cabinet door between them and began peering onto the shelf for her favorite mug. Though she’d lived in this house for several weeks, this was the first time she’d spent more than a couple of minutes alone with Luke.

Not the first time you’ve wanted to, her conscience reminded, and she could feel the warmth returning to her cheeks with further thoughts of him. The man was driven and intelligent, studying biology on scholarship with the intent of becoming a veterinary surgeon. He was quiet, but had shown himself to be exceptionally generous and kind. If she wasn’t careful, the intrigue that had been building since they’d met could easily develop into full-blown infatuation.

“Do you play any instruments?” he broke in, handing her one of the spoons he'd withdrawn from a nearby drawer.

“Piano, but not in a very long time. Father doesn't have one, and we sold mum's a few years ago to pay for treatments."

As the reservoir bubbled noisily, she darted instinctively to the fridge, arm extended to retrieve the sugar bowl from the top. Luke beat her there, his height making short work of the task. Again, her attention was drawn to the way his long fingers splayed over the object. They were unmistakably musician’s hands: it was a wonder she’d never noticed it before.

“Thank you,” she intoned, wishing that her voice didn't sound quite so breathless.

“You’re welcome.” He placed the sugar on the countertop before stepping aside. “I’m sorry; I'm sure you must miss it.”

It took a moment for her to realize that he was still talking about playing piano.

“I wouldn't have much time for it now," she told him with a shrug, moving back to the coffee machine to pour them each a mug of the steaming liquid.

“My brother used to play. Mother keeps the piano in the front room in case he comes round, but he hasn't done anything with it in years.” He fell quiet for a moment, considering. “If I asked, I think she'd be willing to part with it for the next four years. There'd be room for it on that wall, next to the bookshelf." He indicated the space with his free hand.

Helena took a sip of coffee to disguise the fact that his offer had rendered her speechless. Fortunately, the shock of caffeine was just enough to restore her senses. “You’re very accommodating, Luke Harper. Quite the gentleman.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” Hoping to prove her sincerity, she met his eyes, green with a vibrance that made her forget it was the middle of autumn. “I’m not planning to hold you to it, but I appreciate the offer.”

"It's no bother. Besides, I think she'd be glad to know it was being used." His voice lowered as he studied her face. “Would you play if if I brought it over?”

Helena's throat thickened. Much as she'd craved that next taste of coffee, it would be impossible to swallow now. As it was, she could barely manage a nod in response to his question.

Luke beamed, a wide, guileless smile that left her feeling as if her insides had been scooped out and replaced by the contents of her mug. "I'll ask when I talk to her Sunday.”

She was still fighting back the threat of tears when Edmund burst through the door, shattering the stillness that had descended between them. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to mind the interruption overmuch. 

Somehow, the last twenty minutes had felt more like home than anything since she’d moved in. As she exchanged one final smile with Luke before her brother joined them, she knew it wouldn’t be a foreign feeling for long. 

[klariwitch]

All You Ever Were was One’s and Zero’s

There was some sort of light above them. It casted long shadows among their noses, their bodies that pressed tightly against one another’s and even the little lilies scattered by the pond nearby. Was it the sun? Sure. Could be, if you were to look past the science fiction side of it. So, maybe it was a laser, or not, either way he found himself completely distracted from all the possible ill intent it held. He didn’t care. No, not when he had all this.

Conner was with him. Right there. Holding him oh so tightly. It was the way they were always supposed to be. His do-over.

The grass scratched at their legs below. It was nice at first, but now just annoying and itchy. He’d most certainly puff right up tomorrow but what did he care? Hell, he’d  choose to sniffle and sneeze all week if he had to.

They probably should have gotten up earlier, time passed so much quicker on the screen. Almost like, a movie you really like? One you’d never wish to end. Well, the credits were well past rolling. It was the kryptonian that kept him there. Tied him down like an anchor. It was okay, though. All is well in pure bliss. 

Kon huffed. He nudged his side slightly. “Hey,” he chuckled. What a fucking angel, “I know that look,” he nodded, brain doing small turns and twists. “Care to share what’s gotcha so stuck in that big brain of yours, wonder boy?” His voice. Oh god his voice. It rasped so heavenly and choked him into lust. Tim slid into his lap. They sat against the old barn, the rusty red paint properly poisonous, chipped and splintered from wear. 

They were indeed where they belonged. Not, in the city. Sure, that’s where they hung out most often and where they were to reside, but really they could only truly thrive out in the country. There, it would be quiet, peaceful, and…happy?

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Tim rolled his eyes in a playful manner. He tilted his head to stare at Kon, he could so easily lose himself in the depths of his eyes. Like some sort of romantic maze of one's and zero's.

He tangled his fingers in the inky curls. “Just that, I like this,” the boy shrugged, lips pursed. His voice kept quiet, almost like a hushed whisper with his mind preoccupied.

“You like this?” Kon chuckled, raising his eyebrow. Tim hummed a soft agreement as he felt large hands slip up his waist. “Care to be more specific?”

The robin tilted his head back, giving a soft sigh and hopefully the sudden sort of ability to quickly hide a blush. When he turned back, he held on to Kon’s face, fingers balancing below his jaw. Leaning slightly, he craned his head to dip in for a kiss. One, that would only last a split second before he pulled back away.

“Well, lets see,” Tim started, resting one hand on Kon’s chest and the other still gripping the black locks. “I missed that,” he gave his lips a glance, “I missed this, I missed you. I missed your touch, I missed your laugh, I missed your dumb jokes and your little rants and your cockiness and your smile and god, I missed your charm,” Tim groaned, looking away now.

Kon rested his head against the old boards of the barn. His fingers inched up his lover’s hip, and the other caressed the small muscles in his arm. He brought his palm in for a kiss, then set it down on his heart. His beating heart. “Fuck, Tim,” he bit his lip. “You didn’t lose me. You didn’t lose any of that,” Tim could hear the sigh escape his lips. If he were to sink any closer he could feel the hot breath on his neck.

The only problem was, he did lose him. Very much so. The Superboy died nearly a year ago and he hasn’t came back till now. Maybe that’s why it felt off. Why was he here again? Come to think of it, none of this was right. The blue sky tended to glitch around them, and he was pretty sure the original spot they had settled in was in the field. They had held hands and kissed in the dirt whilst flooded in nothing other than wheat. He remembered thinking that the sun didn’t hurt his eyes no more. No, not as it did before, not while Kon was huddled over him, kissing his-

No. He wasn’t to look far enough into it. He held on to Kon, in the now instead. This was better. This would be safer.

“Can you just kiss me?” He muttered, voice shaky and eyes tired.

Kon groaned. He'd never looked at him with such sad eyes before.“Tim, look-"

He kissed him. Kissed him because he didn’t want to fucking talk he just wanted to be held. With Conner, he felt completed. Obviously this was something he wouldn’t so easily let go of. The clone played along too, giving into the simulation in every way possible.

Then, a single tear came between them, and when Kon jolted away Tim watched his own tear stream down Kon’s cheek. How lovely was that? Anyway, the water flooded his eyes now and would have flowed over if it wasn’t for the thankful barriers.

Yet, they broke. Harshly, too. Like a dam ready to burst. Hot tears flooded down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. Besides all that, the boy managed to remain almost completely emotionless and dull. What a scary look.

“Jesus,” Kon swore. “Tim? Love, you didn’t lose me. I'm right here. I promise,” he pleaded, holding his darling oh so very close. He lifted his chin, turning him face to face.

Tim held his expressionless disarray.

“What can I do to help? Whatever it may be,” Kon asked, too sweet for his own good.

His muscles stiffened. Any sort of way that could keep him from touching him, really. Why did he feel so nauseous?

It was all fake. All artificial and false and any other sort of synonym to describe the true alarm of the situation

A sob developed in his throat. “Can you just talk? I don’t care about what I just…” Tim looked him in the eye, “my head is so loud.” His request was obviously simple enough, because he heard a small ‘of course’ in return.

Kon pondered for a moment, it wasn’t everyday someone was to encourage him to talk. “Y’know, now that you ask me to its like my mind is just drawing blanks?” That earned a soft laugh. When Tim opened his eyes, it was just as before only this time, he was looking directly up at blue skies. He was laying on his back, not one cloud in sight.

“Lets see, well, one time I sunk a tractor?” Kon offered. His story continued on too, but to Tim it all sounded like babbles, getting drowned out by inaudible sound.

He realized then his full surroundings—some sort of strawberry field, with everything around them so overgrown and the light dimming that suggested evening. His head still was placed on Kon’s lap, of course he’d only notice that when he felt familiar fingers twirling his hair.

Something about this was nostalgic, like some sort of odd case of deja vu.

“We moved,” Tim stated duly. His doll eyes stared up at Kon with such curiosity, and his arm reached to caress the side of his cheek. Solid. Real. Even when all he really was-

“Hm. Yeah, I guess we did, didn’t we?” The meta glanced around. He picked one little white flower from the strawberry bush, tucking it neatly into Tim's hair. What an angel. His ttk seemed to be present as well, Tim found himself shuddering as the imaginary compression of hands snaked down his body and scrapped against his collarbones. “Malfunction?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Tim nodded, swallowing his gasp.

“C’mon, let's get out of here,” Kon finally announced. He stood then, bringing his lover up with him.

“What?” The Robin asked shockingly. On his feet now, he could feel the soft flower buds tickling up the ends of his jeans as he was lead out of the small field.

“I want to show you something,” Kon insisted, bringing him further along.

“Kon,” Tim halted. The air between them felt almost toxic and unwelcoming.

“What it is?”

“We uh,” the boy started, looking around for some help. “I mean, I don’t think we can..” Why couldn’t he finish? This was all so wrong, so incorrect and not to mention horrible for his health. The world quite literally felt like it was going to crash, how were they to surpass this? Who were they to decide to keep going? The system had already been running for so long…well he wasn’t quite sure how much longer it could go.

“Why do you only ever care when it's getting good?” Kon asked him harshly. That was sure to break his trance.

“What?” Tim shot back in shock. He was still holding his hand, only now Tim could feel his grip getting tighter. Bone crushing.

“Kon,” he gasped, eyes wide, “you’re hurting me,”

“Oh,” was all the superboy said in return. He loosened his grip and smiled, “shall we continue on?”

Tim just nodded. What else was he supposed to do? His hand throbbed, heart matching the same. He wanted again to ask where they would even go, but who knew what the computer would throw at him this time. Or, maybe it was his subconscious begging him to stay.

****

It didn’t take long for the pair to reach the car. It was of course the Kent’s old truck, parked in the midst of the driveway. The one that seemed to go on for miles. Maybe it did.

****

       He’d never seen so many trees in his life. It was like, being in a forest when really they were just driving down a dirt road. The trees seemed to change colors as they drove on, from darker greens to lightened ones and then fading into dead yellows and…reds? Fall.

The system was crashing, time speeding up far faster than could be contained. He’d have to leave this soon.

Somewhere along the way, Kon’s hand found his thigh. Tim looked up when he noticed, only to see his lover smiling at their surroundings. He placed his hand to overlap Kon’s.

He wanted to ask, ‘are we there yet?’ Like some sort of impatient child, but before he even had the chance to, the engine roared to a stop.

“Well?” Kon turned for his reaction.

All around them sat more trees, which didn’t appear to be much till he spotted the red fruit. An apple orchard.

In the center was nothing but a red checkered blanket and a bottle of white wine, accompanied by two tall glasses.

“You, Conner Kent, have truly outdone yourself,” Tim smiled, looking over his shoulder from the landscape, to his loving boyfriend.

It wasn’t so sad anymore, all the glitches. After all, he was sure the system could hold on just a tad longer, right?

“There it is,” Kon sighed a bit of joking relief, “there’s that famous Timothy Drake smile,”

He rolled his eyes at the tease, of course the never could have a sweet moment with the reminder of being best friends.

“Zip it,” Tim hissed, pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. It was all too familiar, lips pressed together softly with some sort of rhythm going. Maybe he was just that lucky, too, because suddenly the car had no middle compartment he remembered, making it easier to slip into his lap.

Just like magic, he had Kon’s hands holding him steady at the hips and his own bringing him closer with his fingers intertwined with untamed curls.

They smiled, heads tilting and breaths quickening. If they were to have done this back at Gotham they’d have the paparazzi all over, the media would annoyingly wonder, “who is Gotham’s youngest bachelor dating?” But, without all that they could give less than one fuck.

It was only, when he felt strong hands slip up his shirt did it get interesting. Then feeling of warm fingertips against his cold back was something ethereal, like something could just possess him and ask for Kon to never stop.

Within enough time there was something new to drive him crazy—that being the trailing of kisses down his own jaw and down to his neck. This time, Tim allowed a few soft sounds to escape his lips, ones that bounced their way around the small roof of the old truck.

He thought, maybe he’d tell him he loved him, that he never wanted to leave this place and that he would promise to make it happen.

His knuckles went white when he gripped the seat, he could feel all sorts of emotions flooding his brain, all as kon slipped his way up-

The soft cushion of his lap turned to concrete. The fastest it ever had before.

It was numbing, really, the way his elbow hit the ground.

Tim cried out.

“Kon?” He called, sitting up in almost an instant.

He wasn’t there, though. He wouldn’t be there to lift him up off the ground.

“I wasn’t finished..” He whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

Above him, he stared. The blackened lens of the projector stared back at him, evilly.

“I said,” Tim spat, standing up to get a better look at the mindless machine. “I wasn’t finished!” He yelled at it. “I wasn’t ready yet!” The robin screamed at the projector, he’d probably hit it down if he was close enough.

It was times like this, where he couldn’t think. He couldn’t breath or speak. All he was left with was the ability to scream. To cry. To throw himself against the hard walls and punch the stone till the skin over his knuckles turned raw and sensitive.

He would look at the controls. Begging and praying to no god to bring his beloved superboy back.

Screaming and crying doesn’t help, though. Even with voice control. The audio constantly insisted on being fried whilst the robin barked back for it to all start up.

“System overload,” the robotic voice reported.

The creator sat slumped over in the corner. His eyes were bright red and puffy, cheeks flushed and hands torn to shreds. “Please..” He would beg the system, the one that didn’t understand that sort of command. “I love him, you know that?”

Still, the computer didn’t budge.

His chest felt heavy, hot and overemotional. It was fake but it still hurt. He lost Kon. Again. He wasn’t able to decide when he wanted to leave before the system shut down itself. But, who could blame it, really? That was sure to happen when you stay in for an almost forty-eight hour period. It was fried. Overworked, just as Tim was. Now he had no choice but to let the system to rest.

How had he almost forgotten he was there? Like some sort of magic wooed him into confusing tech and reality. Almost like some sort of alluring way of putting him to shame.

From then, he’d get to work. The next week or so he would simply spend his time hunched over a small computer screen, eyes wearing from overloading amounts of one’s and zero’s.

In no time, he spotted the hundred of bugs, that and the needed storage.

“That explains the teleportation and seasonal jumps,” he’d talk to himself aloud, anything to reassure the idea of losing his love.

He got to work immediately.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 86

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip​

Three hours seem like thirty. She feels numb; both body and brain simply running on autopilot. Head swimming with a multitude of emotions, yet incapable of showing or expressing a single one. Limbs feeling impossibly heavy.  Too much energy expected and expended with even the simplest of movements; gnawing on a thumb mail or twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, or tucking loose strands behind her ears. She’s tired; already worn out from the bombardment upon her earlier arrival at the hospital. Updates given by both emergency room staff, the radiologist, and a team of surgeons; presented with the best and worst case scenarios for short and long term progress, difficult decisions having to be made on the spot because there was no time to waste. Consent forms and insurance and financial matters that had to  be discussed, legal issues that her already overwhelmed mind couldn’t fully comprehend.

She hasn’t had time to think; no spare moment to focus on exactly WHAT she’s feeling. Knowing that just under the surface lingered tremendous worry and all consuming fear and an imminent panic attack, yet never actually succumbing to any -of all- of those things. She can feel the tsunami of tears that continue to grow and strengthen, the dull ache of sorrow and grief that sit heavily on her chest, the lump of emotion that is lodged in her throat.  Yet she’s seemingly incapable of letting any of those things out, and instead has done little more than sit in a cramped and uncomfortable chair in the crowded OR waiting room. Passing the time by repeatedly counting the tiles on the drop ceiling or staring at her feet as she continuously brushes the toes of her runners against the highly polished floor.

When she’d first arrived she’d been met by the CEO of the hospital -Anil’s friend who had visited the house just the night before- and he’d offered not only his most skilled and revered physicians and surgeons, but  one of the private meeting rooms genuinely used by families with a loved one on death’s door. And while she’d initially accepted and had appreciated the spacious -and surprisingly bright and cheerful, given the circumstances the room is used for- area and the comfortable furniture, she’d lasted all of ten minutes when left to her own devices. Once Koen and Rata left to tend to the things at the safe house and the hotel they’d initially been staying at, she’d quickly gone stir crazy. The silence and the stillness unbearable; each tick of the clock on the wall seeming impossibly loud and grating. She can’t remember the last time she’d been subjected to that level of quiet. She’s spent six and a half years surrounded by noise; crying and babbling babies, children laughing and playing and squabbling, a husband that blares his music while working out and is always finding some kind of noisy home or land reno project to keep himself busy with. She’s become so accustomed to continuous noise that everything seems alien now; unfamiliar and uncomfortable and anxiety inducing.

She’d retreated to one of several OR waiting areas. Oddly comforted by the cramped surroundings and the conversations carrying out in Bengali and broken English.  It didn’t matter that these were strangers; everyone in the room in a similar boat. Some silent, some quietly praying, others gathered in small groups as they anxiously await news on a loved one. The noise and the smells are strangely soothing; the hum of chit chat and the scent of cafeteria coffee. She tries not to make eye contact despite the curious stares and the odd whisper; occasionally catching glimpse of sympathetic smiles throw her way. Normally she’s social and chatty, even under the most stressful of situations.  But now she’s afraid to open her mouth. Scared that if she looks at someone and sees sadness or pity in their eyes or they try to engage her in kind yet curious conversation, she’ll lose it. That a simple act of compassion will have her throwing her arms around a complete stranger and sobbing into their shoulder.

That’s not where she needs to be right now. Giving in to the immense fear and all consuming worry and the doom and gloom that had come with the lengthy list of diagnosis’ she’d been given; less than optimistic results from emergency x-rays, CAT scans, and ultrasounds. She can’t dwell on that; what MIGHT happen. They may be the experts; top notch in their fields and highly educated with decades of practising medicine under their belts. But  they don’t know Tyler. Not the way she does. They don’t know the trials and tribulations he’d been tested with over the course of forty-one years.  They don’t know how strong he is; how resilient. They didn’t see him beat the odds seven years ago; bouncing back when the cards were stacked against him and busting his ass to get back on his feet again.  And they definitely don’t know how much he loves his family; the depths and the lengths he’d go to stay alive and return to them.

The universe can’t give a man a second chance and then try and snatch it away that easily.

She checks the time on her cell phone. It’s now been three hours and twenty two minutes since he’d been taken down to the OR and a small team of surgeons had set to work. Three significant and invasive procedures at once; back and the knee and the femur of the right leg. The latter seems to give the doctors the most concern;  a massive open fracture that has caused damage to the spurring muscles, tendons, and ligaments.  The main fear -aside from infection setting in- is whether or not there’s too much damage and the leg will be beyond repair. That is a scenario she refuses to acknowledge.  The thought of having to make that decision -having to take away something so vital to someone so active and who can’t still for more than five minutes- leaving her dizzy and nauseous.

Instead she’s been putting all of her energy into thinking...believing...that the operation will be a success. That the damage can -and will- be fixed and the placement of an ilizarov -a metal ‘cage’ over the femur with screw going through the skin and down into the healing bone- will aid in a successful recovery. It will be a long haul; several months of out patient physiotherapy and learning how to weight bear and walk again. But it’s better than the alternative.

Sighing heavily, she places her elbow on the chair’s armrest and places her head in her palm. Eyes closing as she lets the hum of the nearby beverage machine and the multiple conversations taking place around her lull her into a state of relaxation.  Between her feet rests a clear, hospital issued garbage bag; filled to the near brim with her husband’s personal effects. The clothes are beyond salvation, and she questions their mere presence among the other objects; torn and tattered and soaked in blood. And she catches herself thinking about how there hadn’t seemed to be that much of it seven years ago. When she’d rummaged through the items given to her and she’d fled to the nearest public bathroom; furiously sobbing as she irrationally tried to scrub the utility vest clean with water and hand soap because she’d thought he might need it again.  Had there been that much blood? Had his things been that saturated and damaged? Or is it one of the small details that have simply escaped her after so many years?

She scolds herself for thinking about it; comparing the two instances. And she briefly considers trying to distract herself by opening the bag; throwing out the clothes and even the vest, and cleaning up whatever is left behind. The two cell phones, a wallet, his watch and bracelets. The kids would want those last items. Especially the latter for Millie, who had made the newest one and a matching one for herself. If anything DOES happen, it would give them something of his; things that were on his person and would tie them to him forever.

But nothing is going to happen, she reminds herself. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to get through this just like he’s gotten through everything else. And when all is said and done, we’re going to put this all behind us and go home and live our lives.

“Hey,”  a quiet voice greets, accompanied by the tap of toes against the side of one of her runners. And when she opens her eyes she finds Yaz standing over her. His eyes glassy and his brow furrowed with worry; a take out cup of coffee in one hand, a tea in the other.

She manages a small, shaky smile. “Hey.”

“Want some company? I come bearing gifts.”

“Company would be nice. Gifts or no gifts.”

He hands her the cup of tea, then lays a hand on the middle of her back and leans over her chair, pressing her lips to her cheek. “I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

Esme wraps her arm around his waist and briefly rests her head against him. “Thank you. But there’s nothing to be sorry for. You did everything right. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. Or stop it once it did happen. It was way out of your hands.”

“Still feel like shit about it though. Guy’s been like a brother, you now? Known him for a long time. If it wasn’t for him putting a foot up my ass and forcing me to grow up I wouldn’t have Siobhan. Or a baby on the way.”

“It’s kind of alarming when Tyler is the voice of reason,” she chides. Nothing could be further from the truth. When things are their darkest or their scariest, he’s the one that holds everything -and everyone- together. The strong, stoic type who may not say a lot, but is genuine and heartfelt when he does. And he doesn’t shy away from calling people out on their bullshit; always trying to help them avoid making the same mistakes he had years ago.

Yaz sinks into the chair alongside her, arm loosely draped around her shoulder. “How you holding up?”

“Okay, I suppose. I haven’t had an emotional meltdown yet, so I guess I’m doing okay. Some wicked deja vu though. Sitting here like this, in Dhaka, waiting for news. It would be kind of funny it wasn’t so goddamn scary and depressing.”

“I would have been here sooner, but there were things that needed to be taken care of. Loose ends that had to be tied up. You shouldn’t be here alone.  Last time you didn’t really have anyone, but now you have a whole team behind you. A whole family. No way you should be going through this by yourself.”

“Koen and Rata had some things to take care of. For themselves and for Tyler and I. And they needed to clean themselves up. All that blood. All HIS blood. There’s so much of it.” She nods down at the bag between her feet. “How does anyone survive that? How can they lose that much blood and still be breathing?”

“He’s tough. Tougher than most. He doesn’t know how to give up. Doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit. How bad is he?”

“Pretty bad. They’re doing a three in one. He has a torn ACL and MCL in his right knee; they said it’s probably been like that for months and they don’t understand how he was even walking on it.  Open fracture of the right femur; it’s caused some damage to the quad and some ligaments and tendons. They’re hoping they’ll be able to save the leg.”

“Jesus…” Yaz breathes, and gives her shoulder a tight squeeze.

“Gunshot wound to the lower back,” she continues. “The bullet is lodged near his spine. I had to decide what to do. If they left it, it would eventually shift. Days, weeks, months, years And once it would sever the spinal cord and cause instant paralysis. I went with the other option; take it out and hope they don’t fuck anything up while they do. If that's going to happen...if he loses the ability to use his legs...I’d rather it happen now. Here. In the hospital. Not when we get home. He’d be able to accept it better right away.  At least that’s the reason I gave them when I told them to go ahead and to the surgery.”

“It was the right choice,” Yaz assures her “That’s exactly what he’d want. Exactly would be easier on him.”

“We have talked endlessly about these kinds of things; stuff going wrong on the job. But we never talked about THIS. We’ve talked about what happens if he dies, what happens if he gets a severe brain injury and has to have around the clock care for the rest of his life, what happens if he loses his hearing or his sight. But not about this. Not about losing a leg or never being able to walk again. And I’m worried. I’m scared I didn’t do the right thing. For him.”

“You DID do the right thing. You know Tyler better than anyone.”

“And I don’t care if he can’t walk again. Or if he loses his leg. Or if something goes wrong during surgery and I have to take care of him for the rest of our lives; be a wife AND a nurse. None of that matters to me.  He’s my husband. He’s the father of my children.  And I love him regardless. I just want him to be okay. I just want him to live. We have five kids. We have another on the way. We…”

“Wait...hold up..what?”

“Shit….” she groans, and places her palm against her forehead. “...I wasn’t supposed to say anything. We were waiting; until we got home and I found how far along I am.”

“You’re pregnant? You’re having a baby?”

“Surprise, right? It technically shouldn’t have happened. But Tyler didn’t exactly handle the recovery from the vasectomy the way he was supposed to and….well…” she lifts the bottom of her hoodie and t-shirt and runs a hand over the small baby bump. “...here we are.  Little bean and I. Another Rake to add to the world.”

“More proof that things happen for a reason. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. The silver lining, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess. And that’s what he needs to be okay. Because of the baby. What kind of universe would let a man create a life and then kill him before he gets the chance to even see it?”

“He’s going to be alright. He’s strong. Tough. And stubborn as hell.”

She gives a small laugh. “That seems to be the quality everyone associates with him.  You guys only the tip of that particular iceberg. Try living with him every day for almost seven years. You don’t know the full extent of that stubbornness, believe me. And I know I complain about it; how hard headed he is. But it isn’t all bad. Him being that way. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me and kids. No battle he wouldn’t fight. And that’s how I know he’ll get through this; he wants to see us again.”

Yaz presses a kiss to her temple, then lays his hand on her shoulder, drawing her into him. “I should have got you decaf,” he   says, and nods down at the tea in her hand.

Esme manages a laugh. “It’s fine. One regular tea a day won’t hurt. And thank you.”

“No thanks needed. It’s just a tea.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean for coming here. Showing up. Sitting her with me. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I got you,” Yaz assures her, placing a hand on the top of her head and bringing it down to his shoulder. “I got you.”

****

Nik is waiting in the hallway when Esme steps through the sliding doors that lead to and from the intensive care unit. Uncharacteristically dressed down in a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt; no make up on her face, glossy black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pacing relentlessly; the soles of her black patent flats clicking against the polished tiles.

“How is he?” Nik inquires, and Esme gives a small start; lost in a world of worry and fear and tremendous responsibility; brain doing battle with all of the negatives of the situation when she’s trying to search for the positives.

“Still in recovery.”  It’s been seven hours since the incident at the storage facility; six spent anxiously waiting as her husband underwent extensive surgery “They just moved him there half an hour ago. I was just getting a tour of where he’s going to be for a while. This will be home for a bit, I guess. It’s really nice; as far as ICUs go. Very patient and patient family friendly.”

“There’s a hotel right across the street,” Nik informs her. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable there?”

“I don’t want to be away from him.  I don’t want him to be alone.”

“You wouldn’t be far away. Couple hundred yards from the front entrance. And it’s not like they won’t contact you if they need you. You’d be close, you’d be able to sleep properly.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Esme remains adamant. “He’s not going to be alone. He deserves better than that.”

“Tyler wouldn’t want you burning yourself out. He wouldn’t want you worrying yourself sick. Not eating or sleeping properly…”

“He’s my husband and I’m not leaving him alone. Maybe you’d make a different decision, but this is mine. Respect it. Please.”

“Fair enough. I’m just concerned about you. That’s all I just want what’s best for you. For BOTH of you.”

“Why are you even here?” Esme asks, and steps out of the way of an orderly pushing an empty bed. Leaning back against the wall next to the sliding doors, arms crossed over her chest and one ankle over the other.  “You were supposed to go back to Australia; with Ovi and Kyle and the kids. To make sure there’s no trouble waiting for when they get home. I thought that’s what we agreed on.”

“Flight doesn’t leave for a few hours.   I wanted to check on things. On you. On Tyler.”

“He made it through the surgery. Or surgeries, I should say. There were no complications and they were able to remove the bullet. I guess they did some tests to check on his nerves and his reflexes and his legs ARE responding. Not a perfect score by any means, but it’s a lot better than they expected.”

“So he’ll be able to walk?”

“They didn’t come right out and say THAT. But they didn’t say he wouldn’t, either. They’re cautiously optimistic.  And I’ll take cautious optimism right about now. He is breathing on his own, though. He needs a bit of supplemental oxygen but no intubation. They’ve given him nerve blocks in the small of his back and his legs and he’s pretty heavily sedated. Doctor said they’d keep him that way for a few days, then slowly bring him out of it.”

“And the leg?”

“They were able to salvage it. He’ll have the ilizarov on for a couple months, at least. But it’s better than the alternative. They’re going to fix his shoulder; torn rotator cuff, shredded labrum, some scar tissue from the last surgery that’s pressing on some nerves.  I told them to hold off until he’s able to be sent home and admitted there. I didn’t want to put him through too much all at once. That’s a lot for one person to handle. Even Tyler.”

Nik nods in agreement. “Do they know how long? Before he can be sent to a hospital closer to home?”

“Depends on how well he does here. They said to be prepared to be here for two weeks at least. A month is the worst case scenario.   That’s if there’s complications or infections. But they did say he’s strong; his heart rate and oxygen levels stayed stable the whole time in the OR. And he wasn’t conscious when he was brought in or in recovery but he is responding to stimuli.Voices and touch. So that’s a good sign.

“A very good sign. Have you seen him?”

“No. They said they’d call me when he’s brought here But I know it’s bad. He’s in really rough shape. I guess Nathan carved his face up pretty good and he cracked his open; tons of stitches and a skull fracture and a severe concussion. There’s no swelling on the brain though. At least not yet. They’ll keep an eye on him. Fingers crossed, right? Maybe he’ll be spared at least a little bit.”

“And you?” Nik asks. “How are YOU?”

“I’m doing okay, I guess. I don’t think the enormity of it has hit me yet. It doesn’t seem real right now. I haven’t even been able to see him; he was already down getting x-rays and a CAT scan when I got here, and then they took him to the OR. It’ll hit me then,  I guess. When I finally DO see him.”

“Do you want me to stay? So you won’t be alone? Anil could push the flight back a couple of hours; I could go in and be with you. You shouldn’t be by yourself, Esme. This isn’t seven years ago. A lot has changed since then. Especially between you and Tyler.”

“I appreciate the offer, Nik; I really do. But I WANT to be alone with him. When I first see him. It’s something I need to do by myself. And I just want my kids out of Mumbai. I want them back home. I want them to get back to their lives. Or at least some parts of their lives, at least. And I’d also really appreciate it if you could make sure Ovi and Kyle stick to the story that I’ve told them; that we had to stay behind for a  few days but we’ll be home soon. I need some time; to figure out what and how to tell them.”

“I’ll make sure no one says anything. But if the kids ask…?”

“Just tell them something unexpected came up that Tyler needed to take care of and I decided to help out. I honestly don’t know how to tell them anything else right now. I’m still trying to wrap MY head around what’s happened. And how serious it is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around for a few hours? I don't want you to be alone.”

“It’s fine, Nik. I’M fine. Honest. I’m not giving you the brush off because of our ‘issues’. I really am okay. And I just need to be alone with my husband the first time I see him. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense to you but it makes sense to me.”

“Do you need anything? Do you need some clothes or a toothbrush, toothpaste, anything at all? Name it and I’ll get it for you.”

“Koen and Rata went to the safe house and got all our things. I’m good. And they got a room across the street and are going to stick around for a few days at least. So I won’t be totally alone; they’re only a text away if I need something.”

“I just wish there was something I could do,” Nik laments, and reaches out to tuck wayward strands of hair behind Esme’s ears, then gently cradles her face in her palms. “Something I say, even. That would make this all better. I’d do it; take it all away. Make him better.”

Esme manages a brave smile, then swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat and nods. “I know you would. And I appreciate everything you have done; showing up in Mumbai and making sure the kids were safe. And I know Tyler appreciates that too. He doesn’t trust a lot of people with them. Or me. But you’re on the top of the very short list of those he does.”

“I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. I know you don’t believe me when I tell you that I’m sorry. For everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done. But I am. Sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. I do appreciate what you’re saying, but I just don’t have the time or the heart for this conversation.  I just can’t right now, Nik. When all this is over and he’s stable and he’s home, maybe I can do it. But not now. And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. It’s me. All me.”

“Tyler has a friend back home. Andy. You met him at Millie’s party. He’s the aboriginal artist; has a kiddo with special needs.”

“I remember.”

“His business card is on the fridge. If you could call him and ask him to contact me? He has my cell number. Just tell him that Tyler’s hurt and in the hospital and I’d like him to call me. Please?”

“I’ll do it as soon as we get to your place.”

Esme sighs, then combs her fingers through her hair and crosses her over her chest; hands running up and down her biceps. “What’s going on down there?” she asks, and nods down the hallway to where Anil is  huddled in quiet conversation with Koen, Rata, and Yaz.

“Anil is praying. He’s quite spiritual. Apparently Saju was too.”

“Always amazes me what people in our line of work can actually be into. It’s fascinating, really. How we can lie so  easily  and hurt people and take lives yet  still believe and have so much faith in something.  How long has something been going on between the two of you?”

“What?” Nik gives a small laugh “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You and Anil.  Don’t deny it; he’s been watching you the entire time we’ve been talking. And I know that look on his face. In his eyes. That’s ‘the look’. I have someone that looks at me pretty much the same way.”

“Trust me, no one can look at anyone the way Tyler looks at you. And Anil’s probably just worried about you and how you’re holding up. He feels responsible; for how things ended up.”

“It’s no one’s fault. No one had a reason to think Nathan was off the rails and working for Mahajan.”

“Tyler did,” Nik points out. “He thought Nathan was the mole the entire time. And he tried telling me. He even had the evidence and I just wouldn’t listen. I just thought he was being paranoid. He gets that way sometimes; ever since the PTSD was diagnosed.”

Esme nods in agreement. “I’ve accused him of it a few times. Always turns out he DID have something to worry about.  I won’t do THAT again; laugh it off  or tell him he’s  crazy and needs to stop reading too much into things.”

“I just thought getting attacked rattled him and he was looking for someone to blame. And punish. I should have taken him more seriously. And I regret that. You have no idea how much.”

“Believe me, I’ve said some things to him over the past few months that I regret. And nothing is more painful than that. Regret.  I just hope I get the chance to tell him that. That I was wrong. That I’m sorry.  I really hope I get that chance.”

“You will. He’s tough. Toughest person I know. Present company not included.”

“I don’t feel so tough right about now,” she admits.  “I feel empty and broken and I’m scared and I’m just…”  she sighs once more, shaking her head slowly as she stares down at her feet; toe of one runner rubbing across the tiles. .”...well mostly I’m just scared. And you know, this Nathan thing. This whole ‘you and him’? Sometimes we get so caught up in the idea of someone that we refuse to see the bad stuff or we just ignore it entirely; we hope we can fix them. I’ve made that mistake before.  Why do you think I’m on my second marriage?”

“Ask me, you definitely traded up the second time around.”

“I did,” she smiles. “I really did. He’s a keeper, that’s for sure. My knight in slightly tarnished armour. And Anil seems like a keeper, too. He’s a good guy. Definitely doesn’t pull any punches or play games. What you see is what you get. And if you ask me, the view is good. He’s pretty nice to look at, isn’t he.”

Nik grins.

“I’m married, not dead. I do notice and appreciate attractive people. And he definitely fits the bill. I think he’s a perfect match for you. You’re a lot alike, personality wise. He reminds me of you, actually In all good ways. I hope it works out for you, Nik.  You deserve someone great.”

“Even after everything I did? The pain I caused you?”

“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even you. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that. To be happy. And maybe this is it. Maybe HE’S it.  It happens when you least expect it, that’s for sure. I’m kind of an expert on that subject. I think I’ve written the damn book when it comes to meeting someone under the weirdest and most fucked up situation.  And somehow still making it work.”

“I think you and Tyler are the co-authors of THAT book. I was just thinking about you guys the other day; how it doesn’t seem like seven years.”

“Oh believe me, there’s times it feels like seventy. This would be one of those times. And then there’s those amazing days where it seems like no one time has passed. Like we’re still brand new in everything and still enjoying every moment together and just loving each other as much as we can. Some mornings I’ll walk into the kitchen and he’s in there and he kisses me like it’s the first time all over again. And it’s...I don’t know…beautiful.”

“You’ll get more of those times. More of those kisses.”

“I hope so. Because I’d miss those kisses. I’d miss all of his kisses, actually. Even when he’s grumpy or pouty and I force him to kiss me. Don’t tell him I said that; that he gets pouty. He swears he doesn’t, but he does. You know Tanner’s pout? Picture that on a grown man. On a mercenary covered in tattoos in scars. Trust me, Tyler pouts. And it’s adorable. Don’t tell him I said THAT either.”

Nik gives a small laugh, then runs a hand over Esme’s hair and settles it at the nape of her neck. “Do you want a change of scenery? They’ll call you, right? When they’ve moved him here.”

“Yeah, they said they’d text my cell. They said it would be awhile. They need to keep an eye on him in recovery for a bit. Oxygen, heart rate, that kind of thing.”

“Do you want to grab a tea? Some fresh air?”

“I could use a bit of both, actually. And a phone charger. Koen couldn’t find mine at the house. I swear those things just vanish into thin air or grow legs and walk away. And I should call Tyler’s dad.  I’m sure that’s the last person he wants me to call but it is his father. I know the guy’s a dick, but that is his son and…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a deep, quivering breath. “....and how sad is it that the old man probably won’t even care? That he’ll probably say some shit like ‘call back when he’s dead’. Or ‘don’t expect me to show up at his funeral’.  Because that fucker would; say those things.  And I couldn’t handle that; hearing those things about my husband.”

“I’ll do it for you. Make a list; names and numbers. I’ll call whoever you want me to, okay?”

She  nods. “Okay.”

“You know what I think would really be good for you right now? Something to eat. When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t. Some time yesterday. I was too nervous this morning and then things went to shit and I ended up here.”

“You have to take care of yourself, Esme.  He’d want everyone to make sure of that; that you’re taken care of.  Especially now.”

Her eyes narrow. “Yaz told you, didn’t he.”

“He did.”

“We weren’t going to say anything until we got home. Until I saw my doctor and had an ultrasound and found out how far along I am. And now? Now I don’t even know when THAT’S going to happen. When I will get home and have any of that done.”

“Anil knows people. He’ll find someone here that will look after you. That would be good, right? Get some peace of mind? Make sure everything’s okay?”

“I would definitely take some worry off me, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll make it happen. For now, let’s get you something to eat and some fresh air. A little sunshine would do you some good.”

“I could use a little of that  right about now.”

“Come here,”  Nik draws her into her arms, tucking her tightly against her.

Esme hesitates; years of hurt and torment and anger holding her back.  The woman attempting to connect with her...trying to so desperately to make amends...had caused so much damage. Or at least tried to. The attempts -albeit failed- at becoming the ‘other woman’ and destroying a marriage and a family,  the lies she told and the times she’d tried to convince Tyler that Millie wasn’t his and that getting married would be ‘the biggest mistake you ever made’.  It is still painful; that kind of betrayal. And she doesn’t know if it will ever heal; if she’ll ever trust Nik again or even see her as a friend. But right now she IS trying; it’s genuine and heartfelt and there was remorse and guilt in her eyes. And that hug feels so good; the warmth coming off of Nik’s body,  the strength and conviction in those arms, the hand that runs up and down her hair. It’s real; the first real embrace and source of comfort that she’s had all day. And she finally gives into it; both arms circling Nik’s waist and her forehead coming to rest against Nik’s shoulder.

Still the tears don’t come.

****

The main nurse in charge of his care is an older woman; born, raised, and educated in Minnesota. Julie. “But you can call me, Jules”. Shortly after graduation from nursing school, fate...and love...had intervened; sending her on a humanitarian trip into the slums of Dhaka where she met a local doctor.  She never moved back to the States; choosing to reside in Bangladesh; bringing three children into the world -all medical professionals themselves- who in turn have made her a ‘nana’ seven times over. She has that quality; a caring, gentle, and adoring grandmother. A kind, round face and dark, sympathetic eyes; hands that are warm and soft when she shakes yours or touches your shoulder or taps your cheek.

The small talk and the ‘getting to know you’s’ had been a change; her day filled with conversations filled with surgeons and would care specialists and a ‘slightly concerned’ specialist who was troubled by ‘irregular eye movements’ during a neurological exam. Nothing but medical jargon she didn’t fully understand and no one seemed interested in explaining; depressing news and worst case scenarios and warnings not to ‘get her hopes up’.  Talking with Julie had been an escape. Being able  to share her own story about meeting the love of her life and never going home again.  Showing the nurse pictures of her children; bragging about how beautiful and smart they are; how blessed they are to have such an amazing, hands on father who they adored. And vice versa.

But it hadn’t taken long for reality to set in. And despite the comforting hand -and surprisingly strong- hand resting on her shoulder, she hadn’t been able to handle it. The hours of preparing herself for the moment had done nothing in the end; spending less than half a minute at his bedside before she had to flee. She had imagined what he would look like; the shape he’d be in. Putting together all the information she’d been given from the doctors and creating a vivid image in her mind. Her brain had been overly optimistic; painting a brighter and more positive image than what she’d come face to face with. She hadn’t prepared for THAT. The bruising and swelling; the rows of stitches above his right eye, across the top of his forehead, and under his right eye. That one is the worst; stretching all the way from the middle of the orbital bone to his temple.  And she certainly hadn’t been ready to see the central line -for fluids and medications- placed in his chest. Or the severity of the cage like apparatus encasing his thigh.

Now she stands in the room’s private bathroom. Hunkered over the sink with her palms against the ledge; struggling not to vomit. It’s all too much; the reality of the situation. The direness of his condition hitting with such force that she feels as if she can’t breathe. Her lungs tightening and her stomach clenching; the ache in her chest -her heart- unbearable. And she feels ashamed. That seeing him that way affected her so badly. That the love of her life...the man she’d fallen so easily for seven years ago- is at his weakness and more vulnerable and he can’t even count on her to keep her shit together.

A soft knock comes to the door, and before she can respond, the nurse steps inside. A sympathetic smile curving her lips; a tiny plastic cup of meds in one hand, a styrofoam one filled with ice water in the other.  

“Are you okay?” Julie asks.

“No,” Esme admits. “I am so far from okay.”

“Here,” the nurse offers the med. “For your stomach. The nausea.”

“Is it safe?”

Julie arches an eyebrow.

“Baby safe,” she clarifies. “I need it to be safe. I can’t take anything that isn’t. I can’t take any chances. Especially with this one.”

“You’re…”

“We just found out. Two weeks ago. I don’t even know how far along I am. I just know I can’t take any chances. We lost one. A few years ago. I need this baby to be okay.  HE needs it to be okay. He wouldn’t be able to take it if something happened. He wouldn’t be able to handle another loss.”

“It’s safe,” Julie assures her, and Esme gives a grateful, appreciative smile and takes the meds offered; dumping them into her mouth and washing them down with a sip of water.

“I hate myself,” she says. “For having to leave like that. For having that reaction to him. Of all people. He’s my husband. The father of my children. And that’s how I react? What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. This is a lot for anyone to go through. It's hard seeing the people we love when they’re sick or injured. And seeing them at THAT extent? It’s a shock; no matter how much we try to prepare ourselves.”

“I’ve seen him in bad shape. Seven years ago. I held him when he was dying; I stuck my fingers in his neck to try and keep him alive. But he didn’t look like that. He was in really rough shape but he wasn’t THAT bad. God, I sound horrible. I’m a piece of shit for a wife. I’m sorry. Language.”

“Oh honey, I’ve heard AND said worse. You don’t have to hold your tongue around me. And it’s him that you’re having trouble seeing. It’s the situation. The loss of control. Feeling helpless because you can’t fix things. Fix HIM. That’s what you can’t handle.”

Esme nods in agreement. “It scares me. Seeing him like that. Because he’s usually the one that takes care of everyone else. He’s the strong one. The one that holds everything together when it feels like it’s falling apart. I mean, I had a labour so fast, that I had to give birth in my own home. He delivered his son. And he was so calm and so strong and to  see him   like this? It’s hard. Accepting it. Seeing what was done to him. And I’m angry. I am so fucking angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I just thought I could handle it. And now I can’t. I’m terrified. Of seeing him like and not knowing if he’ll make it. Do you know if he will? Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s doing very well so far.”

“I need someone to tell me he’s going to be okay. That he’s going to get past this. Because all I’ve heard so far is negative and I need something possible to hold onto. To keep me going. Because I’m scared and I’m lost and I don’t know how to help him. And I’ve always been able to help him.”

“All you can do is be with him. Hold his hand. Talk to him. Tell him you love him.”

“I remember seven years ago, when he came out of the coma, he could recite  things I said to him while he was out. Almost word for word. Do you think it will be the same this time?”

“He can hear you. And he’s reacting to voices and touch. It’s just very heavy sedation; you might not get a response every time. But he CAN hear you. His brain is working. We’ve seen signs of that already. Let that be the positive you carry. That he can hear you.”

“I don’t want him to hear me get upset. I don’t want to cry around him. Because he worries about me. All the time. And if he knows I’m having a hard time, it will stress him out. And he doesn’t need to be stressed. I need a few more minutes to get myself together.”

“Take your time, love. I’m going to do rounds; I’ll come back and check on you both. Hang in there,” she gently pats Esme on the cheeks. “You’re a lot stronger than you think.”

****

“Tyler?”  Her voice is barely above a whisper as she stands at the side of his bed. A hand tightly gripping one of his, the other resting on the top of his head; thumb repeatedly brushing across his forehead.

She refuses to let the tears fall, or let fear and sadness creep into her voice. Instead she presses soft, feathery kisses across his brow and down the bridge of his nose; each eye and cheek, then his lips.

“I know you can hear me. Remember last time? When you woke up you were able to  tell me a lot of things that I said to you. Even when I called you a massive dick for stressing me out. And I know that right this second that brain of yours? It’s coming up with some rude comment about YOUR dick. Do I know you or what? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. Maybe even more than half. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”  

Esme gently combs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss on his forehead.  

“You’re doing so well,” she praises. “Better than anyone thought you would. No breathing tube this time. You’re handling that all on your own. And you’re so strong and so brave and if anyone can get through this, it’s you. If you can survive seven years ago, you can survive this, right? I know you can. And I’m not going to let any asshole doctor tell me otherwise. They don’t know you. Not like I do. They don’t know how hard you’ll fight to get back to your family. But I do.”

She hooks a foot around the leg of a nearby chair and pulls it to the side of the bed; pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before gathering the sides of the hoodie -HIS hoodie- around her body and sitting down.

“This is a lot nicer than the last ICU we were in,” she says, reaching through the safety railing and taking one of his hands in both of hers. “There’s a shower room and a kitchen for families and a TV room they can sit in when they need a bit of a break. Your nurse is nice. But she’s old enough to be your mother, so don’t get any funny ideas or your hopes up about sponge baths. And your room is pretty big; the little out bed thing is actually a small couch. Quite a step up from the chair thing I had to sleep in last time. And remember your least favorite thing from seven years ago? Having to have a catheter? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there was no other choice. At least you got to miss the part where they put it in.. Always a bright side, right? You always say that. About everything. You always make sure I know what the bright side of every shitty situation is. And you’re always right, too. They always do turn out to be the bright sides. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that. That you’re always right. Because of all the things I’m saying, that will be the one you remember.  And you will  hold that over my head for the next fifty years.  That’s now much longer you’re stuck with me for. Sorry if you thought you were bailing on me. You’ve got a lot more years left of putting up with my shit.”

She releases his hand, gently turning it over and grazing her nails along his fingers and palm. Smiling when the heart rate monitor beeps, recording a slight change. “I forgot; that’s the ticklish hand. Weird how all the boys are the same; left hand and the inner thighs. I sent them back; to Australia. The kids. I haven’t told them anything yet. To be honest, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that you’d tell me to get them out of Mumbai and send them home. So that’s what I did. Kyle and Ovi went with them and Anil and Nik will stay with them for a bit; just to make sure trouble didn’t follow. And speaking of Anil and Nik, do I ever have some gossip to tell you. But I’ll make you wait until you wake up for that. It should be a few days; until you come out of it completely.”

She traces slow, soft circular patterns on his palm and the inside of his wrist. “I want you to know that we’re okay. The kids and I.  No one showed to hurt me OR them. And I don’t know exactly what happened or what went wrong, or what you remember, but you got Neysa and Aarev out and they’re on their way home. They’re going to be okay. It’ll take a while; to get over everything. But they’ll be fine.  Thanks to you. And I’m so proud of you, Tyler,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I’m always proud of you. I know I bitch about the job a lot;  how you’re away from home so much. But it’s just because I worry about you.  It doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you, though. And speaking of being proud…you being the proud daddy to be and all...Anil’s going to set up an appointment for me. So we can find out how far along I am. And get an ultrasound done. That way you’ll have your very first picture to put on the fridge.”

She draws his hand through the railing, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist before carefully setting his arm down on the mattress and standing up. “I need you to listen to me Tyler James. And you know it’s serious when I use BOTH your names.”  She rests a hand on his stomach, the other brushing his bangs off his forehead and then settling on the top of his head. “I need you to know that I’m okay. Because I know right now…even with everything that’s going on with you...that you’re worried about me.  And you don’t have to be. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’ve got people watching out for me and taking care of me. So you don’t need to worry about any of that, okay? Because you always put me first no matter what you’re going through. Right now, I need you to put yourself first. For once. I really need you to do that, alright? I promise I’m fine. And the baby’s fine and the kids are fine. We’re all fine. But we need YOU to be fine, too. So you have to put yourself first for a change. I know that’s hard for you. But it’s what I need you to do.  It’s important you do it. And I love you…”  she presses a kiss to his lips   and then rests her forehead against his.  “...I love you so much. And I’ll be here when you wake up. I told you I’d get to you. Somehow. It’s what we do, right? Bust our asses to take care of each other.”

She nuzzles the tip of her nose against the bridge of his.

“I love you,” she says again. “You need to rest, okay? You’re finally pain free. At least for now. You’re finally at peace.”

She kisses him a final time, then sits back down in the chair and tucks her knees into her chest. Drawing the hoodie around her body once more as she settles in for a long night.

[cesabutterflywrites]

Meet Me at Stenvold’s

Word Count: 2020

Warnings: (Deceit’s name in this is Derrin), trouble breathing, feelings of anxiety, ask me if I missed anything

I was walking down a cobblestone street at night. It was raining, but I couldn’t feel the wetness on my skin. I felt the cold, though. I felt the shivering as I stumbled towards the small building ahead of me labeled as an Inn. I willed my knees to keep going forward. My feet felt as if they had been walking for miles. For all I knew, maybe they had. 

I made my way into the Inn, with various smells filling my nose. Cooking meat, beer, sweat, hay, and other mixtures of delicious and deplorable. It wasn’t too crowded, thank heavens, so I went to sit at one of the tables in the corner by the fireplace. I took my gloves off to hold my hands closer to the orange flames. It was as if the warmth was spreading up my bones. I sighed in relief, glancing behind me to take in my surroundings. 

I didn’t get very far in my observation before one of the staff came up to greet me. He was a tall, lanky lad with a tan so deep I may have believed he was from one of  the southern countries, like Spain or Portugal. He had eyes so dark they resembled pieces of charcoal in the dim lighting of the room, pairing excellently with the warmth of the fire. He had pink lips that gave a different meaning to the word ‘soft’. His hair was unruly, naturally a result of handling the many duties of an Innkeeper. He was wearing a simple outfit, brown shirt with a buckle and black pants. However he made a simple lower class outfit seem like something the King would wear. I felt an unfamiliar feeling well up in my chest. I heard what could only be the tantalizing whispers of Aphrodite plaguing my thoughts.

 I took my hands from the fire to turn and face him better. He held a pad of paper in his hands with a pencil. “Welcome to the Stenvold Inn, sir. We have a few rooms available to rent, and fresh meals for purchase. Would you like to order anything?” 

My mouth went dry with words. I opened my mouth to reply, “Yes, I would like-”

Roman awoke with a start to his alarm, nearly falling out of bed as he rolled over. His heart was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he reeked of the sweat drenching his skin. He took a moment to steady himself and his breathing. He realized that his dream was more than a dream, it was a memory of a past he had been searching for clues in. 

He felt the details slipping away, so he reached for his memory journal on his nightstand to scribble down messy notes in his uncoordinated, messy scrawl. Something was better than nothing when trying to remember a past life. He wrote what little he recalled until his fingers hurt and his memory dried up. He stared at the page, wondering why it was so blurry until he picked his glasses up from his nightstand. They did not make the writing any clearer. 

He sighed, hoping that maybe later he could decipher the memory. Definitely at least after having some morning tea. He willed himself to leave his warm bed to get ready for the day. He looked into his closet, humming as he tried to decide what to wear. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt that today was important. It was like the air around him was thick with anticipation. Could his dreamt memory be a sign?

He shook his head to rid himself of that train of thought as he grabbed a red shirt and dressed hurriedly. He was losing time and he wanted to savor his morning tea. 

He entered the kitchen to see his roommate frying up some eggs on the stove. 

“Good morning, roomie. Sleep well?” Patton asked. 

Roman let out a yawn and stretched. .”Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Ooo, what does that mean?” Patton looked over his shoulder toward his friend with a curiously raised eyebrow. 

Roman shrugged as he opened the cupboard to reach for a packet of his Green Tea with Lemon blend. He wasn’t very open about his memories of past lives. He felt it was a private part of his soul-one of the few secrets he could keep between him and whoever his soulmate was. 

“Nothing, Pat, just still a bit groggy,” he told the man handing him a plate of fried eggs on toast. 

Patton nodded, understanding. He didn’t push the subject, instead choosing to change topics, “Logan wants to check out the new bookstore over by the campus. Wanna join us?” 

Roman thought about what he wanted to answer with as he chewed his food. “I have three classes today, and midterms are a few weeks away. Plus the CAP Club meeting was pushed to Thursday, and I want to finish my project before everyone else.”

“Come on, Roman, you haven’t been out with us in forever,” Patton dragged out the final syllable in a whine. “It’ll be fun to have a change of pace, you know? Plus I miss hanging out with you outside the house.” 

Roman leaned his head back and let out a dramatic sigh. “Well I guess I have to give in to the pressure.” 

“Yay!” Patton cheered as Roman finished up his breakfast. 

“Thanks for the meal, Padre, but I gotta go. See you after classes.” 

“Bye, Roman! See you later,” Patton waved goodbye. 

---

Roman felt himself being more antsy as he went through the day. He felt like he couldn’t stop vibrating as he met up with Logan and Patton outside their usual coffeeshop. They walked down the block and it took everything he had not to start skipping. He ignored Patton’s puns and Logan’s rambling. He felt a jolt of deja vu as they came up to the sign outside the shop.

Stenvold’s Books

Roman remembered a portion of his journal entry, and he swore he heard the ***‘Welcome to Stenvold Inn’ ***ringing through his ears. He rushed ahead of his friends and paused to look around the store from the entrance. He started to remember old feelings. Warmth, wet skin despite the dry room, curiosity. He ignored Patton’s calls as he roamed up and down the aisles looking for…

Who was he looking for? 

He paused, letting Patton catch up with Logan close behind, somewhat out of breath. Patton placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Hey, Roman, whatcha roamin’ around for?”

“Now doesn’t seem to be the time for puns, Patton,” Logan gasped out. Patton abandoned Roman to reach in his bag for Logan’s inhaler. 

Roman looked back at his friends, concern was decorating his face for Logan’s well being. “I’m sorry, Logan, are you okay?” 

Logan held up a finger as he took in a puff of his ProAir. Roman nodded and watched the adoration on Patton’s face. Patton and Logan had such a great bond. They had met just a year before. Roman remembered Patton dragging the nerd into their living room one day shouting from the top of his lungs “I FOUND MY SOULMATE AND HE’S CUTE!”

As Logan’s lungs cleared, Roman felt his fill. His chest felt like an elephant was sitting on top of him. He grabbed at his heart, he looked at his friends in alarm, “I’m drowning,” he choked out.

“In what, your ego?” Logan asked sarcastically. Patton slapped his arm softly in admonishment before coming up to Roman. 

“You feel like you gotta move?” Roman just nodded. “You feel like if you don’t stop moving you’re going to drown?” 

Roman kept gasping as he nodded more enthusiastically, begging for Patton to get to the point. Patton squealed then hugged him before pulling back and screaming, “Go find them, Roman!” 

Roman tilted his head in confusion before Logan had a smile form on his usually stoic face. Understanding built its way in his mind. He turned from the two soulmates who found each other and went on a search for his own. 

He searched through the shelves. Looking for a face to recognize. How would he know? As he combed the aisles more there was a face forming. A voice entering his ears he had never heard in this life. His heart beat in time to the pop song on the speakers in the shop as he continued his search. He felt only half present; split between the past and present. 

Fear found its home in his eyes as he got to the front of the store. Patton and Logan looked at him with worry. Where were they? Where was his soulmate? 

He let Patton hug him as he cried. The face he was looking for was so clear in his mind. The charcoal eyes. The soft pink lips. The way his face half glowed in the firelight of the inn. The Stenvold Inn. He was-He was a worker there. He had come up for Roman’s order in their previous life. Maybe that was the sign. Roman pulled away from his friend to go to the checkout counter. 

“Welcome to Stenvold’s Books, find everything okay?” the employee asked with a bored tone. He was sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading a book. He was reading Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. His brunette hair was combed aside, covering one of his eyes. He didn’t seem to be in as much distress as Roman. 

Roman hesitated, but he took the chance anyway. “This may seem to be a random question-” the other man stood up, tossing his book aside. 

Roman smiled in disbelief. Perhaps he was in more distress than he seemed on the outside. 

“You?!” they both cried at once. 

Roman stood in place until his soulmate came up to him from his post. They stared in disbelief. Multiple lifetimes of love stood sturdy in between them yet they still remained strangers. Roman heard Patton sniffling behind him, and it was enough to remember how to speak. 

“I’m Roman this time,” he whispered. He was looking down into the abyss of the dark eyes. Six lifetimes and he still swooned. How could he have forgotten those eyes?

“I’m Derrin,” that hypnotic voice. Smooth as the finest scotch. Everything about the small man in front of him screamed sweet smoke. Roman recalled tasting dark chocolate, travelling deserts, huddling while travelling through the rain, and so many more memories. 

Roman’s tears betrayed him by falling down his face. “How could I have forgotten who we were before?” 

Derrin laughed. So familiar and comforting while also being tantalizing and new. It was bright. Roman started crying in relief. He was finally able to breathe. 

“So are we still doing the whole, ‘get to know each other’ thing again or are you going to stop crying and kiss me, darling?” Derrin asked, mischief in his eyes. 

Roman held no hesitance as he scooped the small man up and kissed the soft pink lips of his dreams. The body in his arms felt like coming home to a familiar teddy bear. It felt like exploring a new section of a jungle. It felt like sitting down at the dinner table to your favorite meal. It felt like seeing fireworks for the first time. 

They broke apart at Logan’s snide remark of, “They have to be able to breathe at some point.”

Roman sighed dramatically, “Excuse me for being so rude, these are my friends. Well, one is a friend and the other is just a stray he found on the street who also happens to be his soulmate.”

Logan rolled his eyes, knowing Roman’s remarks weren’t in malice. 

Derrin still had some hours left on his shift, so they promised to meet at the coffee shop down the street. Roman was about to walk away when the shorter man pulled him in by his collar for another kiss. “Don’t disappear on me for too long, darling. I don’t want to wait a whole other lifetime for you.”

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Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for any ship!

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: strong language, a little smut, but mostly angst Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

I hope you won’t hate me for this chapter, and you’d stay here a little longer to see the ending of this story. 

~ 2000 words

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Chapter 22

Amy got out of the limousin right after it stopped by her apartment. She got out of it quickly, heading to the doors.

Kamilah and Adrian needed to stay at the gala until the end because of the scheduled Council meeting convened by Vega.

And Lily... well, she wanted to party.

That created the best opportunity for Amy to go back to their place and pack up her things. In case anyone wanted her to stay at the Council meeting, she told Kamilah that she wasn't feeling good. And as a result, she got an order to go back home immediately.

Amy had her time to think about how she should deal with what Vega expected from her. How to let go of Kamilah. Especially after they finally got close to each other more than ever before.

She knew that no matter how she would try, Kamilah would get hurt in a process. The only thing Amy wanted at that moment was to find the least painful way.

She decided to disappear without talking to anyone, leaving behind only a simple note. She knew that it would be enough to break Kamilah's heart and make her question Amy's feelings for her.

Besides, Lily knew her past better than anyone else, she wouldn't be surprised with Amy acting like that. And that would stop her friends from reaching out to her and trying to find her against her will.

That would provide safety for them.

With this thought, Amy took the dress off, putting it aside on the bed, and quickly dressed up in her casual clothes. She sent one last look at this golden color, shining on her bed before her, as she started packing up.

Since she didn't have much, it didn't take a lot of time, and she was soon done with it. She threw the backpack on the mattress and sat down to her desk, writing a note down in a rush.

For a moment, she had a deja vu that grew along with the words appearing on the paper. The note sounded so similar to something she wrote a long time before. But she didn't have much time to think about it as some noises came to her ears.

Someone was outside of the apartment.

Amy hurriedly hid the note under the pillow and made her way to the doors. At the same time, she heard a quiet knocking.

Without much thinking, she opened the door to see...

"Kamilah?" Amy's voice didn't hide how shocked she was and how inconvenient was the timing of the guest's arrival.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the woman said with a smirk. "Am I not allowed to see how my date is feeling?"

"I mean, you..." Amy wasn't able to finish the sentence because they were already connected in a passionate kiss.

Kamilah pulled Amy further inside the apartment, closing the doors behind herself. The same doors by which she pressed the girl devouring her with ardent kisses. For a moment, they separated from each other, and the woman took a good look at her prey.

"Mhm," Kamilah hummed softly. "I hoped you would wait for me in this stunning dress," her hand gently pulled blond hair away, revealing soft skin. "I imagined how I was taking it off."

She leaned down, kissing Amy's neck, not giving her even a tiny moment to react. The girl was confused by this situation. First, she was so upset about leaving, and now Kamilah by herself was so close, touching her.

And, of course, her body had to react under this touch.

That was something Amy wanted the least. Staying there, moaning under Kamilah's kisses. Surrendering to the warmness of her body, sweet touch of her soft lips.

"Don't you remember that I'm not feeling well?" Amy tried to distract Kamilah's attention, but the woman kept on kissing her, moving lower to the collarbone.

"I thought that you wanted me here," she whispered into her skin, sending shivers all over the girl's body.

Damn it, Amy thought, and finally managed to escape from Kamilah's kisses. She jumped to the side, trying to ease her own breathing and heartbeat. To hide everything that could show the woman how much she enjoyed all of this.

"Did I do something wrong?" Kamilah's chestnut eyes were full of confusion. "So far, you didn't complain about my touch."

"Umm," Amy wasn't prepared for this talk, her plan was completely different. "I..."

"What is this?" the woman's eyes moved over Amy's head, looking at her room, which she was able to see clearly, thanks to the opened doors.

Kamilah wasn't listening to Amy's excuses. She used her vampire speed, and a moment later, she was staying in the girl's room. Her gaze was focused on the luggage lying on the bed. Facial muscles tensed.

"Are you going somewhere?" the woman's voice quiet. She wasn't blind, and her mind already created multiple explanations for the view before her eyes.

For a moment, Amy stood there speechless. Both women were staring at each other, trying to understand each other's minds, thoughts, motives. At first, the girl wanted to give up, explain everything, simply tell the truth. But Vega's words were echoing in her head too loud, and now she was given an opportunity.

"Actually, yes, I am," Amy composed herself, crossing her arms in a defensive posture.

"I see," Kamilah's voice sounded normal as she was trying to keep her mind clear. "Did Adrian plan a business trip that I knew nothing about? Or are you going somewhere with Lily?"

Despite asking, Kamilah was aware that none of those scenarios lined up with what she already deduced.

She knew it was not possible for her to not know about a trip with Adrian. Lily, on the other hand, stayed at the party, and why would she do that if they had plans for the next day. Besides, it wasn't so difficult to notice that Amy packed up in a hurry. She didn't even hide the dress, only left it on the bed.

"No, I'm not going anywhere with Adrian or Lily," Amy moved closer to the bed to zip the backpack.

She just needed to do something with her hands, which were shaking from emotional excess. But most of all, she was afraid that her face would show Kamilah the truth. That in some way, the woman will break her, making her say all of it. And she knew that Vega was a powerful man, he was responsible for Kamilah's injury once. Nothing would stop him from doing it again.

Unless Amy did what he expected from her.

"Are you leaving on your own?" Kamilah tried to figure out what was going on. "Did I forget about some trip you were planning to attend?"

Her questions made Amy's head burn with pain. Feelings were attacking her from every corner of the room. Her chest filled with anger that she had no reason to feel at that moment. Fury that caused her eyes to shine like gold.

"Oh my god," Amy threw the backpack on the floor. "It's none of your fucking business Kamilah," she looked into the woman's eyes directly, piercing with her icy stare. "You don't get to boss me around anymore."

For a moment, the full of hatred voice escaping Amy's mouth made Kamilah forget her own words.

"I don't understand," she whispered finally.

Amy sighed, not breaking out of the character.

"Of course you don't, how could you," she burst out with anger even if deep inside all she felt was despair.

Then, she saw a look on Kamilah's face. The misunderstanding mixed with genuine concern. An urge to be helpful.

"Tell me what are you feeling right now," Kamilah was never this vulnerable, never wanted this much to understand a human being. "I want to help you."

"There's nothing you could possibly do," Amy didn't drop her gaze, she was good at this, she did it so many times. But never to the person that she cared about so much. "How could you understand my feelings when you're this cold, emotionless creature?!"

She walked out of the room, toward the doors, forcing Kamilah to follow her steps.

"What happened?" the woman was shocked, she had never seen Amy in such mood. Never acting so cold, arguing so much without giving any reasons.

"You happened, Kamilah Sayeed," Amy's words were like a poison, causing the woman's heart death over and over again.

They made her feel the same emptiness she remembered from when she was turned into a vampire, over two millennia ago.

"If I ever did something...If I ever pushed you to do anything against your will, tell me," Kamilah's head was filled with conflicting feelings.

She wasn't mad at the girl for saying such things. But at the same time, she was getting hurt. And that was something Kamilah didn't feel for such a long time.

"Well, guess what," Amy's eyes shining gold with sadness this time, but for Kamilah, it looked like she was afraid of her, "it's too late for that."

The girl opened the doors wide, gesturing her to leave. She didn't know how much more she was able to handle this game, seeing Kamilah's pain. How her whole appearance was growing weaker with Amy's every word.

Kamilah made it closer to the doors, but still as far away as she could from the girl, not wanting to make things worse. The last thing she wanted in the world was for Amy to be afraid of her.

To see her as a monster.

"I am," Kamilah's voice shaky. "I'm so sorry."

And after those words, she disappeared using her vampire speed, leaving behind herself only a gust of wind that brushed Amy's hair.

She left, leaving behind herself emptiness.

The same emptiness spread inside Amy's chest. Her legs trembled, knees got weak, causing her to curl up against the wall. She was shaking, hiding her head in hands. Tears were escaping her eyes, flowing down her cheeks.

Quiet sobbing filled the apartment. It was the only sound echoing between the walls as the opposite of the loud argument that happened just a moment earlier.

Amy wiped the tears from her eyes and took a phone out of her pocket to type a message.

"I'm ready."

She went back to her room to take the backpack from the bed and put her jacket on.

Amy turned around to look one last time at her room before she left it behind.

Forgetting about the letter, which she hid under the pillow.

The note, that was her only hope.

***

Amy was sitting in front of Adam Vega in the office inside of his mansion.

As soon as her message arrived, he sent a chauffeur for her to pick her up from the apartment. And drive her directly to him. During the whole road, Amy was shaking. Not because she was scared of what was about to come. The reason for that was the guilt she felt for letting down Kamilah's trust in such a cruel way.

After a few hours, Amy found herself sitting in front of the desk. She was reading the contract with her eyes opening more in shock with each word.

That was unbelievable.

What he wanted from her was just... unbelievable.

Her throat was tightening as her eyes were moving down the pages, taking the words in. Getting to know the fate that was waiting for her.

"I can't," Amy's voice sounded so weak. She didn't hear this part of her for a long time.

For such a long time, she didn't feel as vulnerable as at that moment. Everything that happened to her during those last few months built up her confidence. It made her the person she always wanted to be.

Strong.

With friends worth her trust on her side.

She had it, she finally had it all. And needed to let go of it in a split of a second. Like her whole journey meant nothing.

Vega came closer to the desk on the opposite side of it. He reached for the pen, which was lying on the wooden surface, holding it for Amy to take.

There was no smile on his face, only a fierce look.

Amy took the pen without dropping his gaze.

And that's when she heard the words, of which she was afraid the most.

"We had a deal, Ms. Moore."

Next chapter: 23

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tag list: @onyxgaytrash @lightning-fury @scarlet-letter-a0114 @caliseds @myonlybae-joohyun

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 31)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3515

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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“You’re back kinda late,” Spencer noted as he read a book, sitting in the hotel chair next to the small desk they provided. 

“Yeah, uh, Dexter got stabbed at a bowling alley,” you explained. 

“Is he alright?” he asked, closing his book and looking at you, trying to find signs of distress. 

You mindlessly tossed your purse and keys onto the table. “Yeah, no he’s fine. Sorry, should’ve led with that. Uh, but he was stabbed by his mother’s murderer. Apparently, a few weeks ago, on the horrible advice of his NA sponsor, he went to find him in Naples and confront him. I guess things got heated, they had a fight, and somehow he found out who Dexter was and followed him. He came up behind Dexter. I had to warn him, and help fight him off. He got in his truck and got away though.”

“Sounds like an intense night. Are you okay?”

You nodded as Spencer stood up to come rub your arms and check on you. 

“I’m fine, yeah.”

“Is everything alright? You seem a bit distant.”

“Well, I have something I want to ask you and I’m worried how you’ll take it.” 

“No secrets, remember? Just ask me. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he assured with a sweet smile. A smile you’d nearly forgotten about. You hadn’t seen it in so long. 

You took a deep breath, your eyes casting to the ugly hotel carpeting. “Okay, Dexter and I think it would be a good idea if you came along with us to kill his mother’s murderer.” You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

Spencer’s hands let go of your arms. Your eyes flashed up to see what his facial reaction was. It was morphed into a deep frown.

Okay, yeah, you knew that was coming. 

“What?” he asked, clearly put off. “Y/N, that’s the most insane idea i’ve ever heard. I don’t want to be any more a part of this than I am, than I have to be. You want to drag me along to watch this? And since when are you going back to killing again?”

“I’m not. I just want to be there to help Dexter. It’s mainly for moral support, nothing else.”

“Funny choice of words,” he said balefully as he began walking around the room, his hands going to his hair, disheveling it even further. 

“Don’t start right now. Look, I wasn’t thrilled either, but Dexter made a point. We think maybe you have this horrible imagery built up in your head about what we do, what he does. Some kind of villainous nightmare. Subjectively, yes, he does kill and he kills gruesomely. But objectively, this time we thought you could have some perspective. You nearly killed Cat because she had your mother hostage. This man brutally murdered his mother in front of him and his brother as little kids. Tell me you can’t find some iota of sympathy in you. I’m not saying you’ll enjoy this or want to do it, but maybe if you just watched us, watched his process, you’d see he wasn't some unhinged unsub.” You let out a breath, starting to feel frustrated. You didn’t know why you had to spell this out for him and it was getting old. Either he understood, or he didn’t.

He sighed, clenching his fist as he turned his head to the side, not looking at you. “Alright, you’re right. I said I’d support you in this, and I haven’t given you the full chance to show me what you two have done. I just assumed the worst, and because I love you, I forgave your actions. But you’re right, if I’m going to keep helping you two, Ineed to know exactly what it is you two do.” 

“Really? You’ll do this?” 

“I’m not excited about it, but if I’m going to fully understand where your mind was at and what you two did together, I need to see it. I think it will be beneficial either way. It might bring us closer together, it might help me see it from your view.” 

You nodded. “Good. I think it will help. He wants to do it in the morning because it’ll take all day to get to him in Naples, abduct him, and kill, and dispose of him.”

“Wow, that’s soon. What about work? All 3 of us can’t just disappear for a day.”

You bit your lip. “Shit, I forgot. Well, we just need to wait for a break in the case that could get us all some time off. As soon as things slow down one day, and they give us a break, we’ll go.”

He nodded in response and the next day, you told Dex your tentative schedule. He agreed that all three of you needed to be present, and in order to not raise further suspicion, you’d have to wait on Rossi to deem you all had worked too much, and for there to be a point for your team to just wait.

Doakes was eventually brought in but he barely stayed two minutes before he rushed out. You frowned, wondering why he was so upset, but kept back to your case work.

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Much to your surprise, the BAU team started to look into officers past, but thankfully not into Dexter. In fact, they set their sights on Doakes, so all effort went into locating him. That was mainly on Garcia and Luke. Once Rossi and Matthews had declared him suspect number one, known only to your team, not the Miami PD, the case became hands off. It was a waiting game to see where Daokes would show up. All the profiling in the world couldn’t help with seeing where he might be going, but Rossi declared that the team should take a break while you all wait for some kind of news about his whereabouts. This was it, it was the chance you needed. Albeit noon, it provided enough time to get to Naples, stalk him, and do the rest. 

You and Spencer went to Dexter’s lab immediately and told him you needed to go. The three of you drove to his apartment where it was like deja vu. 

“Okay, so here’s how I operate,” Dexter explained, pulling out his trunk and duffel bags. “I’ve got all my kill tools in here, including the sedative, plastic wrap, and duct tape. Tonight, all we need is duct tape, plastic, scalpel, slides, dropper, and I’ll need to stop to pick up a chainsaw.” 

You glanced to Spencer to see how he was holding up. He had a bit of a sick look on his face. 

“Is the chainsaw really necessary?” he asked. 

“I typically try to use whatever my victims do. Unless it’s poison or suffocation. In this case, I think it’s highly fitting.”

“Y/N’s said that you usually kill them quickly, so they don’t feel pain. She said you do this with a large knife, like a hunting knife. Are we not using one tonight?” 

“Normally, yes, I stab them in the heart so it lowers the amount of spray and they have a rather quick death, but tonight, Jiminez deserves to feel everything.” 

“So this is the most personal kill you’ll do?” 

“Probably,” he responded with a bit of a shrug. “Alright. I hope you don’t love those clothes because there will be blood on them. I need to pack my apron, mask, and other protective gear. Y/N, you want your clothes?” 

“You let him keep your clothes?” Spencer asked, an undercurrent of hurt in his tone. 

“We thought it would be safer. He could wash them with his, and you’d never see them…” you quietly responded, feeling as if you were on trial.

With that, you told Dexter you wanted your clothes. You quickly changed into your old kill outfit, feeling an odd sensation being in them with Spencer around. Dexter offered Spencer some old clothes but he declined, rudely. 

Then the two of you set off in Dexter’s van. He stopped and picked up the chainsaw. Spencer said nothing to you while you two waited in the car. You were trying to gauge his thoughts and feelings, but he was giving almost nothing to go on. It made you feel anxious. You were somewhat terrified he’d leave this experience hating you, fearing you, seeing you as nothing more than a sick unsub. It could backfire and instead of bringing you closer together, it put you further apart. 

Dexter drove all the way to Naples, explaining how he was going to stalk Jimenez. Spencer didn’t have many questions, seeing as it was his job to know how unsubs thought, worked, calculated. He didn’t compliment or condescend him. 

Still, you were on edge about his reaction to all of this. 

Dexter drove up to the bar where Jiminez worked, and you all followed him, watching, waiting. You were sure Dexter was feeling the same thing you were - rush of adrenaline, all your senses sharpened, the ever vigilant eyes. 

Eventually, the stalking led you three to a run down cabin in the Everglades. It was extremely remote. After sitting with the engine killed for a long time and being sure Jiminez wouldn’t come out, Dexter turned to you two. 

“You remember this part, right?’ 

You nodded, in student mode once more. “Of course. We’re going to lure him out and sedate him.” 

“Wrong. You’re going to,” Dexter told you firmly. “Get in my bag, get the sedative.” 

Quickly, deftly, you did as you were told. You got the syringe out, opened the door quietly, and slipped out. You pulled the cap off and tossed it back in the car. Just as you were about to walk by Dexter’s driver window, he stopped you. 

“Wait, come here,” he quietly ordered. You walked back over and Dexter put his hand on yours. 

Red flags went off in Spencer’s mind. The simple touch seemed to make all those old feelings resurface. He always knew there was something further than just a friendship between you two. 

“Hold it like this, remember?” he instructed, wrapping your fingers in a particular way. “Keep the needle out, away from you. Go check, make sure he’s alone, create something to lure him out, and then attack from behind.” 

The small correction suddenly set Spencer at ease. Dexter was, in fact, just teaching you something. There was nothing remotely romantic about it at all. Some of the nerves he had built up, melted way.

“I know,” you reminded evenly, confidence in your tone, but not arrogance. You knew Dexter had done this dozens of times. But he also needed to remember he trained you extensively. 

You walked quickly and low to the ground as you went to a window and peeked in. You saw Jiminez and no one else. After a second, you snuck back over to the truck and turned on the radio, before going to hide against the wall again.

Your heart was racing, your hand was shaking slightly until you took a deep breath. 

Jiminez came out, you ran up behind him, injected the serum, and he passed out cold. You looked back at the van and held a thumbs up. Dexter jumped out of the van and Spencer following. 

Spencer’s instructions were clear: don’t get in the way.

You and Dexter had a system now and half the reason for this trip was to show him how you two worked together. You two grabbed all of the supplies from the back hatch. Spencer followed you and Dexter as you moved quickly in the cabin. Every inch was covered in plastic. You two moved around each other as if you were long time dance partners, every move choreographed, every move done with precision. 

Spencer stood and watched, objectively, trying not to let it sink in that you two were really about to kill someone. 

Next, you and Dexter carried Jiminez into the room, finished off the plastic, and got him strapped to the table after disrobing him. Not a word was spoken the entire time and Spencer couldn’t help but notice. Dexter didn’t have to tell you what was next, he didn’t have to instruct you on a single thing. This was as methodical as it could get. 

You got Dexter’s slides ready, along with his scalpel and dropper. Dexter busied himself with his clothing, getting all the gear in place. You and Spencer put on your face shields, to protect from blood spatter. 

“Y/N, do you have your knife?” Dexter asked. 

“Yes.”

“Go ahead and show me where you’d stop blood flow,” he evenly requested. 

It was becoming increasingly clear to Spencer as he watched you two that everything had a purpose, everything was clinical. There was no malice in it. It was only calculating. The entire time you three had been together today, there wasn’t any jokes, any goofing off. When you and Dexter interacted, it was educational. 

You put the knife over his chest, the tip barely cutting through the plastic. 

Dexter again, offered his hand, without warning, and wrapped his fingers around yours from the opposite side of the table. 

“Almost, just a hair up towards the chin and towards the left just a little,” he calmly explained. 

“Right,” you agreed, then pulled your blade away. 

“Wait, you’re not killing him?” Spencer asked. 

“No, this is Dexter’s kill. In light of who this man is, Dexter has elected to kill him the exact same way his mother was… with no mercy.”

As you finished your sentence, Jiminez began stirring. Dexter made his way to the head of the table. 

“Here we are again,” he said, picking up the surgical blade and slicing along his victim’s cheek. 

“What-- what the fuck?!” Jiminez gasped out. 

“I know. I keep asking myself that same question.” He absorbed the blood, and squirted it onto the readied slides provided by  you. 

“Let me out of here!” 

“But.. I’m finding it’s best to accept things you can’t change. Now is where I have a chat with you, so you know exactly why you’re here. I think you have a pretty good idea, and I certainly know why you’re here, but I have some company tonight that I’d like you to tell.”

He glanced at you and Spencer. Jiminez did the same. 

“Let me go. I got cocaine. You can have all of it.”

“It’s funny you should say that. I am off the wagon. But that was never my drug.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” he cried out angrily. 

“Hey,” you quietly commanded, hovering over Jiminez. “My friend told you to talk. Years ago. You committed a heinous crime in a shipping container, a young woman, two boys. I want you to admit it.” 

“Fuck you!” Jiminez spat. 

You slapped Jiminez hard, but swift. “Cut the sht. You’re strapped to our table, huh? You’re not getting out of this. The least you can do is maybe clear your conscience before you meet your maker. So confess. What was it you did all those years ago to a young mother in front of her kids?”

Jiminez stared at you, he looked like he was about to spit at you or shout more obscenities so you warned him. 

“If you spit at me, or say anything other than what happened, I’ll make you wish you never opened your mouth. Are we clear?” 

He nodded once. 

“Fucking hell! Fine! I cut her up. I chopped her to pieces. I killed that bitch because she was fucking a cop! Not my fault her fucking kids were there! It had to be done!” he cried out. “It wasn’t personal! It was business!”

“It was personal for him,” you said, pointing to Dexter. “You killed a young mother in front of two innocent little boys. They grew up to be killers, just like you. You took their lives away. All for some blow? I hope you rot.” You looked up to Dexter, giving him a nod to signal you were done. Then you took a step back next to Spencer. 

Spencer glanced between you and Jiminez. Finally, it was clear to him. This man had no redeeming qualities. Cat adams was a walk int he park compared to him. He finally truly understood what this whole thing was about, how you two worked. 

“I’m going to kill you tonight, Mr. Jiminez for what you did to my mother, and because well, this is what I do best.” 

At that, Dexter picked up the chainsaw at his feet, started it, and began cutting. You’d seen this before, but not on a live victim. Spencer hadn’t been exposed to this, making you still very unsure where his mind was at. 

The goriness was done, the body was cut, ready to be transported into a bag and then moved. Dexter began going through his wallet. 

“Is this usually part of the routine?” Spencer asked. 

“No, but I’m curious,” Dexter passively said. He dug into the wallet and found a note that had the address of the bowling alley and the time he went. “What the hell?” he mused.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, making your way over to him to read what was in his hand. “What--”

“I only went with you, but I also told my sponsor where I went that night. Lila. Fuck!” he cried out. 

“Lila? I told you to get away from her,” you reminded angrily. 

“I’ve been trying to. But this means that she called Jiminez and told him where I was going to be.” 

“But why?” 

He threw his head back in thought. “She probably wanted us to be close. The night I met Jiminez, we got into a fight. I was upset, broken, she and I shared a hotel room. Nothing happened except us talking all the way into the morning. I bet she thought if he attacked me again, I’d go running to her.” 

“That’s why you and Rita have been on and off lately, isn't it? She found out about you and Lila.” 

“That, and some other things.” 

You shook your head. “Dex...” Disappointment laced your tone. “I told you that chick was bad news.”

“I know, I fucked up, but--” 

His phone rang and he held up a finger before he answered it. It was Rita, she asked if he had used her key to the house. He told her to get out of the house and call the cops. He hung up the phone and quickly explained he needed to leave because he thought Lila might be at Rita's house. 

“I can drop you two off at your hotel, but I really need to go,” he said. 

“No, we’re going with you to Rita’s. If Lila is there, we need to help you.”

“Are you just going to leave this guy here?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the body, sounding alarmed. 

“Well I can’t take him with me. Use some of those IQ points, Agent Reid.” 

“It’s Dr. Reid,” he spat back, his face eerily calm so you quickly stepped between them. 

“Okay, calm down. Dexter, let’s just go back to the city. Jiminez isn’t the type to share a cabin full of cocaine with anyone.”

“Can you dispose of him?” he asked.

“With what? We don’t have your boat.” 

“Shit, you’re right. Okay. We’ll just have to deal with him later. I need to go to Rita’s.” 

With that, the three of you took what you needed and loaded into the van quickly. Dexter nearly broke the speed limit the whole way. You changed into your old clothes and stuffed the bloody ones in a bag and kept them in the van for Dexter to deal with. Spencer took off the cardigan he wore over, leaving him in a normal shirt. 

The three of you walked up to Rita’s place. She apologized for bothering you before asking why you two were there. 

“We were out for drinks,” you quickly lied easily. “Good to see you again Rita, just wish it were better circumstances.” 

With that, Dexter spoke to the police while you tried to console Rita. When he was done, he said he was going to see Lila. 

“Let me come. You don't need to face this psycho on your own.” 

“No, Y/N, I really do,” he responded, walking quickly. He turned and put his hands on your shoulders. “Thank you, for coming ot make sure Rita and the kids are alright both of you--” he shot a look to Spencer “--but I need to face her on my own. If i show up with you, it’ll just add fuel to the fire of this jealous inferno she has. I can handle it. I’ll drop you at your hotel and then I’m going to her place. I’ll be fine.” 

And so he did. He drove you to your hotel where you hugged him quickly, called him an idiot for not listening to you sooner, to which he smiled and agreed, then he left to face his psycho sponsor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[tbr-agency]

her thoughts.

“Ji-ah, what’s wrong?”

⤷ Youngjae finds out about Yeonji’s troubles.

timeline ⟶ September 2020

characters : Kim Yeonji, Jung Ahrin, Lee Haejin (The Bloody Roses), Choi Youngjae (Got7)

warnings ⟶ mention of a serial killer.

“You look dead,”

“Thanks for the compliment. I know, I look freaking beautiful,” said Yeonji sarcastically as she looked up from her laptop to see Haejin leaning against her board desk.

“And that’s why Youngjae loves you,” winked Haejin and Yeonji let out a sigh before returning her attention back to her laptop.

“Take an early dismissal, Yeonji. It’s going to be your birthday in about 3 hours,”

“I have to finish my report or else Eunhee will chase after me,”

“She always chases after us - I mean, Ahrin used to chase after us but since Eunhee is one of the executives of our team.. She’s the 2nd Ahrin.. I missed the old times..” mumbled Haejin, making Yeonji look up towards the older one as she was staring into a corner with a small smile.

“Do you miss how we would always hang out together after work?” Yeonji questioned and Haejin looked towards her with a small smile.

“Of course, but.. We all have our own personal lives now..” answered Haejin with a softer voice while tilting her head slightly.

“Speaking of personal lives, do you.. see your future together with Youngjae?” continued Haejin and that’s when Yeonji’s fingers stop working - her fingers resting on her keypads while slowly turning towards Haejin.

“I do. I mean it’s too early but yeah, I do see my future together with Youngjae.” answered Yeonji as she fully turned her chair towards Haejin.

“I never said this to anyone but meeting him is like a gift to me. He changed me to become a better and brighter person - I mean I still enjoy dark humor but not ask dark as how I was back then,” added Yeonji with a slight shrug and small smile.

Haejin looked at the younger one with a smirk.

“I hope I can see you on your wedding day then,”

“Okay.. That is too far.”

Haejin chuckled as she took out something from her jean pocket. 

Yeonji finally realized that it was a necklace.

“Here, your birthday present.” handed Haejin as she held it towards the younger one. Yeonji was too fascinated to look at the design which has a rose and an otter somehow being mixed together.

“An otter and a… fox?”

“Yeah, that’s you and Youngjae. I already know that Youngjae gave you a promise ring so I decided to give you a necklace,” said Haejin with a smile and Yeonji took the necklace from the older one’s hand.

“Thank you, Haejin. I’ll wear it now then,”

Yeonji yawns as she looks at the clock that shows it was past 11. 

She was the only one in the office apart from Haejin who was probably busy discussing with Ahrin regarding work.

“Take an early dismissal, Yeonji. It’s going to be your birthday in about 3 hours,”

Haejin’s words were stuck on her mind since Yeonji felt guilty for herself. It’s her birthday and she should be spending her time at home with Vanilla in her arms, or probably hanging out with Youngjae.

Yeonji’s eyes glanced towards her phone as she pressed the side button of her phone to see a few notifications from Youngjae.

Yeonji decided to send a quick reply to Youngjae.

Grabbing her belongings and her bag, Yeonji went towards the next door as she knocked on the door before twisting the doorknob - to see Ahrin on her usual office chair.

“Oh, Yeonji. You haven’t gone home?” questioned Ahrin as she looked up towards the younger one whose head was peeking into the office room.

“I’m about to go home.. I was actually looking for Haejin, I thought she might be here with you.” answered Yeonji with a small smile and Ahrin frowned slightly.

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell what?” Yeonji was obviously confused, seeing the leader looking at her as if she must have known what the older one was talking about.

“That girl.. Haejin decided to help Chaeun to find the serial killer,”

“WHAT?!” Yeonji slightly yelled and Ahrin walked towards Yeonji, slightly opening the door as she stood in front of the younger one.

“She didn’t tell me anything, even Nara and Hyunji didn’t tell me regarding the case.” said Yeonji in a frustrating manner. 

This was the first time that the girls’ are doing separate works without letting the others know.

“It was last minute. One of the local police stations called us and Chaeun immediately decided to take the case. It seems Chaeun asked Haejin for help and they decided to just go for it,”explained Ahrin calmly and Yeonji had a frown on her face. She was rather disappointed that they didn’t tell her.

“Chaeun and Haejin have their own reasons. C’mon, I’ll walk you out,” offered Ahrin and a sigh was heard from Yeonji.

“I’m worried for them. We’re dealing with a serial killer, Ahrin. You know how many times half of us would be hospitalized.” argued Yeonji as she faced the older one.

“Yeonji, we are always hospitalized when we have cases. It’s not just this,” answered Ahrin with a small smile.

“But—

“You have to trust them, Yeonji-ah. Don’t worry and it’s gonna be your birthday soon so..” Ahrin trailed off as she pressed the button and the elevator door opened.

“Happy early birthday and enjoy your night. Don’t think too much, alright?” wished Ahrin as she watched the younger one entering the elevator.

“Thanks,” muttered Yeonji as she watched Ahrin waving to her while the elevator door closed.

Yeonji was already having negative thoughts - mainly worry. 

As soon as she stepped out of the elevator and with a heavy heart, Yeonji stepped out of the lobby as she walked past the receptionist then to notice a familiar back, sitting at the waiting area. 

Yeonji didn't have to double confirm as he would sometimes come and visit The Bloody Roses’.

“Youngjae?” called Yeonji softly as soon as she approached him.

Turning towards her, Youngjae immediately stood up as he gave her a quick hug since they were in public.

“What are you doing here?” questioned Yeonji with a smile - her eyes travelling towards a bag that Youngjae was holding.

“I’m waiting for you to end work. I want to be with you when the clock strikes 12.” answered Youngjae shyly and Yeonji could only chuckle to hear how cute he sounded.

“Thank you, my sunshine.” muttered Yeonji with a tired smile and being her boyfriend, Youngjae noticed the tired tone of her voice - which was rare for him.

Youngjae would sometimes meet up with Yeonji after her work and no matter how tired or whatever situation she had during work, Yeonji would never let out her ‘exhausted’ self to Youngjae.

She was always that cheerful and naughty Yeonji to Youngjae.

“Ji-ah, what’s wrong?” peered Youngjae slightly towards her face and Yeonji immediately looked towards him with a smile to hide her true emotions. 

“It’s nothing.. Just.. work..” muttered Yeonji as her eyes went back towards Youngjae’s.

“Okay…. Well, Ahrin noona said you are given 2 day off so I’m taking you somewhere!” said Youngjae cheerfully as he was already holding onto Yeonji’s hands.

“Wait, what? Where?”

“Can’t tell you!”

“Thank you, Jae. You know me very well,”  thanked Yeonji sincerely as both of them walked out of the bulgogi shop.

Yeonji had told Youngjae that she just wanted food during special occasions, she didn’t need luxuries or anything fancy - Yeonji is just a simple girl.

“I wanted to buy you a necklace though but I didn’t know if you would really like it,” confessed Youngjae as he holds onto her hand - intertwining his fingers with hers.

Why does it feel like deja vu?

Yeonji looked towards Youngjae as his eyes went forward - walking towards the direction to where Youngjae’s apartment.

“I would like it with whatever you buy for me, Jae. Well.. Haejin already bought me a necklace.” confessed Yeonji as she showed her necklace towards Youngjae - his eyes were glittering in awe.

“That’s so pretty.. Is that an otter… and a fox?”

“Yeah! The other girls have their own symbols of animals and I’m a fox,” explained Yeonji with a smile and Youngjae raised an eyebrow towards her.

“I know why you’re a fox! Is it because you are always causing trouble without the other noonas finding out at first?” Youngjae let out a smirk and Yeonji slightly glared towards him.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,”

“It is a compliment, baby!”

Yeonji rolls her eyes then hearing Youngjae’s usual laughter as he puts his arms around her shoulder - bringing her close towards him as they walk side by side.

“Anyway, really - thank you for all of this, Youngjae. I really appreciate it, I really do. Thank you,” said Yeonji softly as she turned towards Youngjae as he just stared at her.

“Hey, I’m not dumb you know. Did something happen during work?”

“Who said you’re dumb?”

“Well- Yah! Don’t change the topic!”

Yeonji finally sighed as she tightened the grip onto Youngjae’s hand.

“Ahrin told me that Chaeun and Haejin are out to find a serial killer,” Yeonji confessed and Youngjae stopped at his tracks - turning towards Yeonji.

“A serial killer? Are you in-charge of the case too?”

“No. Not this time. You see, I’m really worried,” said Yeonji in an obvious worrying tone.

“You told me that Chaeun noona and Haejin noona are one of those few people that are very skilled in finding criminals - don’t you think we should support them and to think positive instead of the negative?” questioned Youngjae softly, his sight never leaving Yeonji’s eyes.

Yeonji blinked before turning towards Youngjae with a small smile.

“I guess I was just over-thinking,” muttered Yeonji and Youngjae took the chance to kiss her on the cheeks.

“C’mon, let’s go to my apartment and watch some movies,” offered Youngjae as he pulled Yeonji slightly.

masterlist : Got7 Bodyguard Au

[where-is-my-beheading-ceremony]

The Hidden truth (re-written) Chapter 1 “An unlikely outcome”

Story takes place after season 4. There are no mentions of the canceled season 5 and no ideas of it are implemented in this story (the reason being that season 5 in my opinion didn't show any potential that the show could've had)

Warning! Story might include blood, gore, mentions of a toxic relationship, death, swearing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many months have passed since the defeat of the great Colossus of Ultimate Destruction (what an original name). Things have settled down, the Kingdom of Knighton was slowly fixing the damage the stone army had caused, with many smaller villages left abandoned as either they were wiped out during the attacks, or people moved out to live in the larger villages, towns for protection in case of any future attacks. The remaining soldiers of the stone army were nowhere to be seen during this time and were thought to have either turned back into nothing, but lifeless statues or were one by one defeated by the heroes of Knighton, the Nexo Knights. As for the criminals that were caught, they now had to deal with the cold Dungeons that lied beneath the Kingdom's castle.  Sure they weren't as bad as the ones in the stories. The only problems here being the massive amounts of guards, uncomfortable beds, no heating and a hard way to escape with guards assigned to watch you during your hours outside. Oh and chains, those sucked too. At least Jestro and Roberto had problems dealing with them at the start as their bodies weren't ready for heavy work. Nowadays, they didn't pay any mind to the chains as they rested on only one of their legs. The Kingdom's previous Jester wiped the sweat away from his forehead, his hat lifting up a little when doing so only to let a small curl of black hair fall onto his forehead. Of course working in his Jester attire wasn't comfortable and the clothes would quickly get dirty. They were worn out already, but Jestro had grown too much into it to wear anything else. Especially the hat, he felt naked without it. The Jester tucked the one curl of hair back in his hat and lowered the pickaxe, in desperate need of a break honestly. He took a few deeper breaths and leaned against one of the boulders he has been hitting with a pickaxe for around half an hour, why was he doing this again? "Ey, Roberto, what are we crumbling these remains of the...what was it called? Colossus of Ultimate anarchy or something for?"

The Italian sculptor with an accent Jestro honestly found quite funny was just uselessly sitting on one of the boulders and contemplating his life choices as always, honestly Jestro could relate. They looked up when Jestro had called them  and sighed "Your memory is as bad as always, It's the remains of the Colossus of Ultimate destruction. Now repeat after me-" "I'm not repeating the name....it's a stupid name, I could've given a better one. And no need to remind me of my bad memory, I'm aware of it myself, I barely remember anything from my second corruption and I feel like I shouldn't trust the stories you tell because they have a lot of you and I know you were just an extra in all of this, now answer the question, why don't you?" "so rude...." Roberto quietly muttered and got off the boulder, picking his pickaxe off the ground "They're planning on using the smaller stone pieces for building as for the bigger boulders will be used to create art from- can you believe it! They're going to give this away for all sculptors to use except for me, the best of the best!" "Ah well I guess not all people appreciate your art, I'm not surprised why-" Jestro was cut off when he felt one of the bots harshly pull at his chain, making him stumble a little "hey!" One of the squire bots swung his spear a little, pointing it at Jestro from afar "Get back to work you two! Or less break time. You already should be glad you're not waiting for a death sentence or something for the things you did. Now come on before we-" Now it was Jestro's time to cut them off it seemed. Jestro's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, seems like it was easy to get on his nerves now that he didn't have any reason to be anxious about anything "Or what??? You're going to lock me up in a dungeon? I've already hit rock bottom both literally and metaphorically, now stop swinging that thing around, I'm getting back to work, see? See!?" He didn't even notice how the tails of his hat rose up, how he felt his body twitch and spark a little when he swung his pickaxe up. With a sense of deja vu hitting him, he hit the boulder with all the strength he could muster up at the moment, making it crack as if a meteor hit a planet, but not exactly shattering it to pieces. When he calmed down, only then did he notice the damage he did to the boulder and how electrified the metal of the pickaxe was as he could see the sparks on it slowly fading away. "...yeah, you do that!" the robotic guard stopped swinging their spear around and looked over at Roberto "what are you staring for, get back to work, I want to see you deal with the boulders as fast as the jokester here!" If the tiny robots thought they did a good job at bossing people around and looking intimidating, they were the joke here. Jestro could just electrocute them if he wanted to now that he found out that not all of the magic charge that he was hit with had left his body. Honestly he should've realized that earlier as his body would involuntarily twitch a lot as if he himself was electrocuted. He just never knew that he could release those remains of magic out of his body Wait...he can...electrocute the bots...he can actually do that. The Jester lifted his head off the boulder and looked over his shoulder at the bots, a small laugh escaping his lips as he pulled his chained leg a little before picking up the chain in his hands and pulling it more. Of course the bots reacted to this and grabbed the other end of the chain, pulling it back, not paying any mind to Jestro's widening grin "What are you doing?" Roberto questioned, not realizing the other's intentions quite yet "Come on, and shock!" Jestro pulled more harshly on the chains expecting to shock the bots into shutdown, but nothing happened and with a harsher yank from the guards, Jestro stumbled down with a yelp "Jestro are you insane! Stop irritating the guards or you won't even get food!" Roberto tried to reason with his friend, yet it didn't seem like they were listening at all "Are you serious, this is all that I had in me!? I wanted to- come on!" Jestro sat up and didn't quit pulling at the chains, completely frustrated with himself "Can things just go my way for once because I swear-" with another yank, he felt the pent up electricity leave his body and travel through the metal chains, reaching the bots before they could let go of them and boom! They shut down completely from the shock. "Come on, sculptor guy, make yourself useful and grab the keys before someone else notices" Jestro stumbled back up to his feet and leaned against the boulder, panting a little.

The Italian looked over at Jestro with a concerned face, but he too wanted freedom so he approached the bots and grabbed the keys from them before unlocking his and Jestro's chains "Now what. Just because we don't have chains on, doesn't mean we'll manage to run past the guard towers"

"It's pretty simple" Jestro spoke, taking off his chains "you're going to go with me to the electric shield and I'll do the rest" He looked up at the shorter man only to notice the completely ridiculous expression on their face. Before the other could even speak up, Jestro shook them by the shoulders a bit "Again, our situation can't get any worse, let's just do it. When we both break out, you can go be a sculptor and stuff. I'll even come appreciate your work!" He tried to reassure them and it seems like it worked since Roberto's eyes lit up a little. Jestro took that as an agreement to work together and loosely put the chains on both of them just so they wouldn't look suspicious "Great, now come on, I know where the electric shield is" He grabbed his companion's wrist and looked around before quietly making their way towards it, trying not to look in any way suspicious if someone from the guard towers were to look at them. Since the Kingdom didn't really have major criminals, the two were probably the only ones in the dungeon as far as he's noticed and since the guards were currently...off, the should be able to get there pretty easily. It was on the outside anyways, the only thing blocking them was the locked door it had, but looked like it could be dented with just a hit of an elbow so he was pretty sure he could just rip it out. It was only connected to the dungeons and the guard towers it had so it shouldn't alert the whole Kingdom immediately.

The two quietly made their way to the electric shield, looking as casual as they could is a bot or two decided to look at them through the guard towers. Thankfully the bots were as lousy as ever and they made it to the shield without a problem "you keep an eye out while I deal with this and as soon as the electricity is out, we forget about each other and make a run for it till we are sure we're safe. We can meet up in the dark forest, nobody is an idiot enough to go there." Jestro spoke and rolled up his sleeves "alright, keep an eye out, I can do so" Roberto crouched down a little and kept his eyes on the guard tower "wait, you said only idiotas go to that forest then are we idiot-" he didn't finish his sentence when he saw the disapproving gaze of his friend and continued to be the silent look out. After a few minutes, of Jestro grunting, he looked back "Are you even making any progress-" he was cut off when the small door hit his face making him stumble to the ground while Jestro completely ignores that and looks at all of the wires and switches the electric shield had with glee "yeah, I forgive you for throwing this at my face" Roberto quietly grumbled and got up. When he looked at one of the guard towers, he noticed that one of them had indeed noticed them "ah uhh, Jestro, you might want to hurry up before they turn the sirens on!" "On it, on it!" Jestro rubbed his hands together, but he didn't feel his own electric charge so instead he rubbed his hands on his sleeves till he saw a few sparks "Step back!" He grabbed a hold of some wires and ripped them out, both of the electric charges mixing and a moment later, a shock wave came that unfortunately knocked out the electricity in all of the capital. That'll definitely alert everyone even if the sirens didn't get the chance to be turned on. The two were pushed quite far away from the shock wave and Roberto had to shake Jestro back to consciousness so they could run away. When the jester did wake up, he felt like his body was heavier than usual, like there was no electric charge left in his body anymore. What he did remember greatly was how it felt to have that sort of magic running through his body. It felt like it was ripping him apart, like he was as light as the light that flickered throughout his body. And this wasn't it.  Maybe when countering that electricity with his own, it was just pushed out of his body like a great discharge, that's what probably caused the shock wave. Did he use it all up?...That was both relieving and not since it did prove to be useful even though it bothered him greatly. He lightly opened his eyes to notice Roberto yelling at him and groaned, pushing himself up to sit "I told you to run away the second everything is down..." he could only hear a ringing in his ears though and before he knew it, he was pulled up and now running out of the Kingdom walls and into the dark forest with Roberto dragging them by the wrist. He was looking as fried as he felt like his brain was fried. His clothes were burnt, torn at parts and covered by the dirt and dust he collected while working and sliding through the ground from the shock wave. This was the only Jester outfit he had too. Maybe he could try sneaking some of his old ones from the Castle, but that seemed unlikely, The only good part was that his hat didn't get damaged too much, it would require a good scrub though. Roberto didn't look too good either. Their hair was a complete mess and they looked like they were too covered in dust and dirt. He appreciated that they didn't leave him be though, maybe when Jestro finds a place to settle down, he could help out Roberto if they needed any of it. What an unlikely outcome this was. He never expected to be able to break out of that place, hopefully his wish for some freedom and time to relax, settle down will be answered. ------------------------------------------------ The Fortrex being independent from the capital's electricity quickly took notice of what just happened with Ava and Merlok being the first ones to get the information before calling the knights over to the control room "I don't know if it's surprising or not, but Jestro and that sculptor just escaped the dungeons! Apparently they caused the power to go all out in the Capital. I don't know how, but it's not the biggest concern at the moment, you have to go catch them before anything happens again!" The Knights that gathered there were secretly glad that finally SOMETHING happened. Sure they were all settled down and had things to do, but they missed the action, well everyone except for Clay who seemed to be thinking about this responsibly as you'd expect the leader of the Knights who had memorized the whole Knight's code. "Finally, some action! Dealing with minor criminals and royal balls was getting a bit tiring" Macy announced, already in her armor. Her body itching for a fight, for some action even if she knew that Jestro alone wouldn't be able to do so, at least chasing him down will suit her needs "You kidding me? Sure I missed the action, but it's Jestro that broke out, we already shouldn't expect anything good from this threat to the Kingdom" Lance partially argued back, but only because his beauty mask session was interrupted and he had a gig tomorrow "Oh since when do you view Jestro as an actual threat? I'm surprised you managed to admit that finally. You're two Jestro attacks late though" Aaron being the second most responsible now, still felt the need to tease his friend in some sort of way and it seemed to have worked since the white Knight huffed at that "Monstrox is gone for good now though....right? He shouldn't be able to do anything on his own. He's probably just gone mad if he thinks that he's going to so easily escape." Axl pointed out, though the Blue knight, their leader, Clay seemed to have an argument to that since you really shouldn't doubt a man who almost managed to overthrow the government twice. "He managed to knock out the electricity in the whole Capital. Don't take him so lightly guys, but don't start attacking him the second you see him. We'll surround him, capture him, bring him to the fortrex for interrogation and then put him back in the dungeons. Now come on Knights, let's go!" Clay announced and everyone immediately obliged, hopping into their vehicles one by one. "Ava do you have their coordinates? If so then send them over immediately, we don't have any time to waste" Clay spoke into the microphone attached to his helmet "It's a bit hard and I don't know how correct they are since he doesn't have a chip attached to him if that isn't obvious, but he should be around this area" Ava sent the coordinates to each vehicles system "The dark forest?" Clay seemed to question that fact a little, but nonetheless, started his vehicle and drove off with the rest of the knights behind him "Jestro what are you up to this time?...."

[serendipitous-magic]

Question Game - AKA Oversharing Hour

I was tagged by @the-angry-pixie​! And I’m a chronic oversharer, so this was fun. I’ll put most of it under a read more line because there’s a LOT.

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? 

Black. Dunno why.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? 

City city city city city city city city. I’m already going fucking batshit as it is, trapped in suburbia. I want to be able to actually do things, anything. Anything other than just being around the house and / or work. (And I felt like this before the pandemic started.) If you live in the city you can walk out your door and be somewhere else within like 5 minutes. A city park, a cafe, a train/subway, a local attraction, a museum, an artist’s booth, an outdoor market, etc. etc. 

Living in suburbia is like, well, to go literally anywhere you have to get into your car first and drive like 10 minutes minimum to get out of the neighborhood, and then if you want to go anywhere that’s not the grocery store you have to drive 20 minutes to get to another area of town, and then once you get there that’s the only place you can be without getting into your car again and getting a nice shot of anxiety from having to drive in traffic and have aggressive drivers roar up on your ass because you’re going 5mph above the speed limit and they want to be going 15mph above, and god help you if you have to merge, and oh by the way this is your only option to get around because public transit doesn’t really exist in any useful way in Big Suburbia, and nothing in within walking distance of your house except like 2 playgrounds and maybe one (1) gas station. (I hate it here lmao)

If I was trapped in the country I’d probably be chill with it for about a week, and enjoy the break, and the on day 8 I’d snap and go on a murdering spree out of stir-craziness.

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? 

I want to learn German and eventually be fluent in it. But since I’ve already started trying to learn and I don’t know if that counts, I’ll say cinematography. As in the actual working of the camera and lighting and all that. I can dream up some pretty striking images but actually getting the camera to do the settings needed to capture them is another story entirely.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? 

Nope. I drink coffee and tea both, and I don’t put any kind of sweetener in either of them. I used to put a shitton of sugar in my coffee and honey in my tea, and then I had some mild eating disorder struggles in college and I never got back in the habit of putting stuff in my hot drinks after that. It just tastes wrong now, after being used to plain black coffee.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? 

Either the Harry Potter series or The Hobbit. My grandma would take care of me a lot when I was really little because my parents both worked full time to support us, and every single time I was at her house she’d sit us down at the dining room table and read something to me. Not Junie B. Jones or anything, either, but real, big, thick books. I loved the shit out of Harry Potter and The Hobbit; I would request them repeatedly. We pretty much went back and forth; we’d read Harry Potter, and then The Hobbit, and then when a new Harry Potter book came out we’d read that, and then The Hobbit again, and so on and so forth.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? 

Showers. I love baths, they’re magical, but ain’t nobody got time for that unless it’s a special occasion. I got too much shit to do to spend an hour lying in the bathtub.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? 

Vampire. Purely on the basis that if I was immortal maybe I’d finally have time to get my to-do list done and accomplish things. I’d miss the sunlight though.

8. Paper or electronic books? 

Paper. Here’s the thing, I really want to enjoy ebooks, but they just don’t hold my attention at all. Maybe I’m too conditioned by the internet to have a short attention span when I’m looking at a screen, idk.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? 

I have a dark gray hoodie from the Seattle Aquarium from when I went on a road trip across America with my BFF a few years ago. It’s still my absolute favorite thing. I also enjoy my hiking boots a lot. (I wear them all the time, really they should just be called “everyday boots” haha)

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it?

I like my name and I would also like to start going by something different. Probably just because I’m a restless soul and I feel the best (and least trapped) when I’m on the move or when things are changing. The second I get somewhere I want to be somewhere else. That’s just how I am. Gwen is a cool name (I’ve personally met maybe 3 people in my whole life with the same name, face-to-face), but there’s a lot attached to that nickname that I don’t necessarily want to carry with me when I eventually escape my hometown and start down a new path.

11. Who is a mentor to you? 

A friend and former professor whom I usually refer to online as Producer Man. He’s a producer (as you may have guessed) who kind of took me under his wing after I was in one of his film classes in college. We work together on film projects now and he’s teaching me bit-by-bit (usually by way of long, rambling, tangential stories / lectures) about the industry. He’s a really good guy. Like, he for sure has a case of Old White Guy sometimes, but his heart is absolutely in the right place. “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.” He’s always leaving $10 tips at coffee places and working himself to the bone to get his students connected to jobs and internships that will help them with their careers. 

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? 

Yes, my stories. Actually, “famous” is not the right word. It’s just that fame is so tightly associated with success in our society. I want to be successful. Whether I’m widely known or not is pretty inconsequential to me. I want to make stories and I want them to have an impact. Books, film, etc. It’s about as simple as that.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? 

Oh yeah. I have trouble  sleeping as much as I should because I usually kind of jerk awake in the morning with this vague feeling that I forgot something or that I’m late for something. Also I stay up later than I should because I’m a night owl, and yet I like being up early because early mornings are great. And usually if I dream at all it’s something kind of stressful, like I dream that I forgot something important or did something wrong. I’m a Stressed Bean. 

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? 

I think so, yeah. I’m pretty obsessed with the idea of romance (I mean look at my OTPs), but heteronormativity got me fucked up enough that I’m bad at actually navigating real romantic feelings or relationships because society never prepared me for The Gay.

15. Which element best represents you? 

Fire, probably.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? 

My mom. We fight a lot and there tends to be a lot of tension between us. It’s a long complicated story. It boils down to, she really hurt me when I came out as not-straight at 15 and she lost all of my trust and even though she’s working on being less homophobic we’re still kind of trying to repair that divide seven years later.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? 

Dude, I miss everyone. I’m an introvert and I’d love to be at a big party right now. I miss socialization. (As does everyone.) 

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. 

The first time I experienced deja vu, I was about eehhh 6? And I legitimately believed, for several years of my life, that I had future-predicting abilities. Like, supernatural-level future-predicting abilities. Because I didn’t really know what deja vu was, so I thought, every time it happened, that I had already ~seen~ that moment in my dreams or something. 🤣

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? 

Hm. (My immature ass brain yells “DICK.” No, brain. Those were dark heteronormative times. Also, grow up.) 

Probably some of the sushi in Seattle. I actually love sushi, it’s just that when it has full-on legs and eyeballs I start getting a little squeamish. I like the rolls and the kind where there’s some fish meat laid out on a nice little bed of rice, that’s delicious. But when they brought out the whole shrimp with legs still attached, I was like “How in the (redacted) am I going to chew / swallow that.”

20. What are you most thankful for? 

That I happened to be living with family when this pandemic hit. I was supposed to move out (and across the country, actually) as of... like 4 days ago, as it happens. That was the plan. Plane ticket was gonna be booked for 7/15/20. Obviously, things didn’t quite work out that way, because of the pandemic and a few other reasons. But I can’t imagine if I had been in an apartment living with roommates, or in an apartment on my own struggling to get by, when this happened. A lot of people couldn’t pay rent and lost their homes. I was very, very lucky to be where I was, when I was, and very lucky that I have family who let me stay in their house pretty much indefinitely while this clusterfuck of a year happens.

21. Do you like spicy food? 

Yes! I looooove spicy thai food especially. I miss the massaman curry from a local Thai place so much 😭

22. Have you ever met someone famous? 

Um. Maybe? I met Veronica Roth once at an author talk in the library where I work, although it was before I worked there. And I met some guy from New Zealand who’s famous for his sword fighting skills because my dad does sword fighting stuff. Don’t remember his name though.

23. Do you keep a diary or journal? 

Yep. I have to write down everything or I forget. (I often say I have the memory of a goldfish.) Also, I have this compulsion to record and preserve my experiences in life, because I feel like our time on Earth is so fleeting and if I don’t write down what’s important to me, I’ll forget it and lose it.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? 

Pen. Pencil gets smudged.

25. What is your star sign? 

Scorpio, which is ironic because they’re supposed to be ~hyper sexual~ I guess, and I’m like gray-ace or something in that zone.

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? 

Crunchy. Who eats soggy cereal? Are you okay? Do you need help? This is an intervention. 

27. What would you want your legacy to be? 

My stories. Life and sentience, as we experience it, is made up of just that: experience. And I read somewhere that, on some level, the human brain doesn’t differentiate that much between real life experiences and fictional experiences. I think that’s true. If you read or watch or hear the right story, it can really touch you and change the way you see life, or even change the way you live life. Stories have an incredible amount of power, both in individual people’s lives and in larger society. A huge amount of power. I want to be able to give people experiences that will Enrich Their Lives (do I sound like a lifestyle coach yet? 🤦🏼‍♀️), but also stories that actively do good in society. Positive representation, body positivity/neutrality, diversity, healthy relationships (Hollywood has a real problem with that). Hope. It’s the best thing I can think to give society, and storytelling is what I love to do.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? 

I love reading. I wish I did it more. Part of my problem is that I get caught up in the hectic Rat Race of modern society and I never feel like I have time to sit down with a book for hours. Another problem of mine is that I start too many things at once, meaning I currently have like 5-10 (I lost count) books that I started reading, and I want to finish all of them, which means no progress ever gets done on any of them.

I last finished The Goldfinch, and I am currently working on The Secret History, Good Omens, Dune, a book my dad wrote, Directing Actors, Shot by Shot, The Way of Kings and I forget what else.

29. How do you show someone you love them? 

Physical affection, acts of service, words of affirmation, quality time, and gifts, in that order. If I’m close to someone, whether romantically or not, I want all the affection. And I’m kind of dying in quarantine. 

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? 

Depends. I usually don’t put any in, because it’s just gonna water down the drink and get in the way of drinking it (you know when the ice attacks your face?), but I don’t really mind ice in my drinks.

31. What are you afraid of? 

Helplessness. I Have Control Issues. ✌️ Also stagnation.

32. What is your favourite scent? 

Amber. Or any scent that’s kind of autumn-y. You know what I mean. Some other examples include dryer sheets, wood smoke, cigarette smoke (my big sister used to smoke a long long time ago, and although I never saw her do it, I still associate the scent with her), pine resin, rain, that Mahogany Woods scent from Bath and Bodyworks.

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? 

If they introduce themselves as Pam I call them Pam. If they introduce themselves as Mr. Brown I call them Mr. Brown.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? 

 If “money is not a factor” means I have an infinite amount of money to spend as I wish, then: buy land, build film studio complex on land, found company, hire fellow creatives, make movies.

If “money is not a factor” just means that I don’t have to work 40 hours a week to afford rent, then: move to Chicago, rent a nice studio apartment, write stories, maybe work 15 hours a week at a used bookstore or coffee shop to get me out of the house and socialize. Go to museums, go to the park, walk along Lake Michigan, go to gay bars, ride the train, brave the Illinois winters, own a cat, paint, play guitar. Build my actual career on writing / storytelling. Probably also do some filmmaking.

Alternatively: buy an RV (not like an American Trailer Park shitty RV, I’m talking the NOICE ones), buy good film equipment, be a freelancer, live in RV driving around to wherever the next filming location is. Life is a road trip and I’m doing what I love. Writing, storytelling, filmmaking. My home would travel with me. Writing in cafes; roadside attractions; early mornings on the road with coffee in the cup holder as the sun comes up; being able to go anywhere to film; always experiencing something new.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? 

I’ve lived in a landlocked state my whole life, so I guess swimming pools. And, listen, I CANNOT get water in my mouth at the beach without wondering exactly how many kids have peed (or worse) in that water. (I know that’s a thing with pools too, but pools get cleaned.)

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? 

Wonder what some poor European is doing in America right now. But if it was $50, I’d probably yell “DID ANYONE DROP THIS?” and then take it if no one speaks up.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? 

A few times, yeah.

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? 

Grades are not the end-all-be-all. Skip some homework assignments to spend time with friends. Skip class sometimes. I’m serious. If you make school your top priority, even over your own personal life, you will come away with good grades and a lot of regret and missed opportunities. Learning is HELLA important, and very very little of it happens inside a school building. Get a 15 hour weekend or after-school job in high school, befriend your coworkers, and have fun with it. Use your paychecks however you want. Join a school club - one that you’re actually interested in. Do stupid shit. Light your textbooks on fire after graduation or go to the 24 hour Wendy’s at 2am with your friends or kiss that person you met at summer camp or sleep on the porch because it’s too hot to sleep inside. Be smart and safe, but follow your whims. If you let yourself fall into routine, apathy will poison you.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? 

I already have a couple small ones, but the one I want next is a four-leaf clover. Don’t know where. Maybe my right inner wrist or maybe an ankle. Or like behind my ear. Luck has saved me so many times. (See above, with how I happened to be living with family when COVID hit.)

40. What can you hear now? 

Swamp cooler downstairs, the clock ticking in my office, cars outside, people moving around the house. I’m surprised the neighbor kids aren’t shrieking their absolute heads off as per the usual. 

41. Where do you feel the safest? 

When I’m alone and unobserved. 

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? 

TMI warning, but I absolutely despise public bathrooms. How am I expected to pee when there’s somebody sitting like three (3) feet away, with only a partial wall between us, hearing everything that’s going on? My fight or flight response simply will not allow it. It’s too awkward and therefore Not Safe. Either that public restroom has to be empty except for me, or it has to be so loud and bustling that ain’t nobody hearing anything. Anything in-between and I’m in hell.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? 

The ‘80s. Let’s be honest, even that far back makes my life (as a woman, and as a gay person) hella difficult. But, consider this: it’s the ‘80s. Furthermore, consider this: a part-time job might have actually supported me and paid rent back then 😱 Holy fucking shit. Sign me up. I just wouldn’t want to go any further than than like 1980, because again: lesbian. Being a woman in the past = even harder than it is today, being gay in the past = even harder than it is today, being a gay woman in the past = oh no.

44. What is your most used emoji? 

In order of descending frequency:

😂🙄😊😁🤦🏼‍♀️👀😬🌈🤷🏼‍♀️😙

45. Describe yourself using one word. 

Creative

46. What do you regret the most?

Wasting my entire teenage experience. (See #38.) I did quite literally nothing with my life except homework for like 18 years. If I had taken even a tenth as much time for myself as I did for school, I would be so much farther along as a person today.

47. Last movie you saw? 

In the theaters? ........ uh. Shit, I don’t actually remember. It’s been like 5 months. (As it has for everyone.) But the last movie I watched was Lights Out, because I’ve been watching the director’s youtube channel. You could tell it was low-budget and that the director was still kind of finding his stride, but it had a lot of heart behind it and the creators clearly gave a fuck, which made it enjoyable. I am firmly in the camp of “not everything has to be a Magnum Opus or have a multi-billion dollar budget to be a good movie.” If I engaged with it and got some sort of emotional experience out of it, and if it had a good message, I consider it a good movie.

48. Last tv show you watched? 

I don’t usually watch a whole lot of TV shows (who has the time?) but I think the last thing I watched was either The Witcher or that new Unsolved Mysteries miniseries on Netflix. Oh and I was watching Dead to Me because I just love Linda Cardellini’s face and I want to wrap Judy up in a blanket and cuddle the shit out of her and protect her from all things 🥺 My precious beautiful unstable sweet murder baby.

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. 

Apapanic. It’s where you’re so stressed about things that half of your brain is panicking but the other half is so overwhelmed that it circled all the way back around to being calm to the point of apathy, so you just kind of sit there like

[mrs-dragneel-stark-solo]

Unforseen Chasm (Part 48)

Part 48 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 4613 Warnings: Language, last part that deals with Ultron movie,  reader fights bff, mind control, widow protocol reactivated, song for this part: Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93​​ what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Only two hours later, you got a call -- from Tony… This was either great news or really bad news.

“Hello?”

“You and Reindeer games busy?” he asked, his tone serious.

“No, why--”

“We’ve got a crack at Ultron, but we’re gonna need all hands on deck. I don’t like having to ask, but it may mean we can save Shannon. You in?”

“Of course, yeah, what do you need?”

“Be combat ready in five minutes. We’ll swing by to get you. We’re going to Sokovia, taking the fight to him.”

“Got it. We’ll be ready.”

You two hung up and you turned to Loki. “Get on your battle gear, we’re going to fight,” you informed.

He gave you a puzzled look but it quickly vanished when he followed your lead. He became clad in his old leather fighting gear, and you threw on the clothes Shannon had given you. A hooded robe, skin tight pants, and black t-shirt with boots.

The jet landed on the roof of your apartment and you two climbed in. No one gave you any warm looks, or nods of approval, except Clint. In fact, one face was new -- a dark red man, or… android? He had a stone in his head and he eyed you up and down with curiosity, and also… knowledge, as if he understood you. Suddenly, it dawned on you that he must’ve been what was in the cradle. Somehow, the Avengers gave him life, and trusted him enough to pit him against Ultron.

And clearly, the twins were now a part of this group, curiously enough. No one had taken the time to explain how or why they were here though.

Steve began his speech, and ultimately told you what your top priority was.

“Tony wants to take first stab at getting Ultron. The rest of us, our job is to evacuate the city. We find Shannon, we find what Ultron has been building, and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us. The people of Sokovia didn’t ask for this.” He took a moment to think, to pause. “Ultron thinks we’re monsters, that we’re what’s wrong with the world. This isn’t just about beating him. It’s about whether he’s right.”

And so it began. You landed just outside of the city, Wanda and Pietro got the civilians going, they began the evacuation and you tried to help, going to homes and apartments, encouraging people to leave. Letting them know the city was under attack. Clint found you and walked up to you as if he had something important.

“I’ve got the coordinates for Shannon, I figured you’d want to be the one to go get her. Take Banner with you in case it’s a trap.”

“What about the people?” you asked, frowning.

“We’ve got them. We’ll fight him. Go get her and then she can help us.”

“Thanks, Clint.”

He nodded. “Move your ass, kid.”

You smiled at him and ran off to find Shannon. She was in an abandoned church, where you dashed down the stairs, Banner right behind you.

“Shannon?” you whisper-yelled.

“I’m in here! He’s not here,” she replied making noises with some chain.

You immediately dashed over. “Oh thank God!” you said with a sigh of relief. “Hang on. Stand back,” you ordered. Shannon immediately backed up and you put your hand on the gate that divided you two. You charged the metal and blew it off the hinges. She ran out and hugged you tight.

“Hate to break this up, but we need to get back to the team,” Banner said from right behind you.

“You’re right,” you agreed, letting her go.

“Where are we headed and are people being evacuated?” She instantly got into Avenger’s mode. She started walking with you two through the way you entered. “What’s the situation right now?”

“City is being evacuated. There is some kind of core on the high ground, at the entrance of this church. We can’t tell what it’s going to do, but Ultron seems like he wants it,” you explained. “Tony’s going after him himself first.”

“Tony is doing what!? Is anyone else with him? Who told him it was okay to go on his own? He doesn’t know what Ultron is capable of.” She looked panicked and began scanning the area hoping to find the flying red suit of armor. “Give me a new mic to communicate with the team. I had mine taken by one of his bots.”

You fished one out of your suit and handed it to her.

“Thanks, Y/N. Alright, team it’s good to be back. Now give me an update. Cap, what’s going on?” Shannon flew off into the air to get a better look at things. “Tony, what is God's name are you doing trying to take on Ultron?” She turned to you and Bruce. Y/N, help the twins evacuate the civilians. Bruce, honey, I need my big guy to come out and help if you could.”

Bruce nodded and proceeded to remove his shirt and place it somewhere, turning to look at the two women, he winked at Shannon and began changing into the Hulk.

“Alright, big guy, go smash the robots,” she ordered the Hulk.

He smiled and ran off.

“I need to find out what he’s up to. Babe, what’s he hiding in the middle of town?” was all he said before it when quiet on his end.

“Damn it, Tony.” She shook her head and she flew back down to you.  “Alright, Y/N, let’s go get ourselves a slice of this fight.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said with a firm nod.

“Shannon, it’s good to have you back. We’re in the middle of town, the twins are helping evacuate the people--” he got cut off while fighting a robot.

“The twins? As in the Maximoffs, they’re helping us now?”

“Yes they seem to have taken Clint’s words into consideration and have decided to help us,” Natasha responded from some other part of the town.

“Alright we’re heading over to the center and see if I can get any of the people out of there.” She flew back up into the air. “You’re welcome to join me or any of the other’s if you want, Y/N/N” Shannon waved at you to come up with her to the sky.

“I’ll go wherever you need me,” you responded into the coms. “Do we need combat or civilian evacuation? Someone tell me where you want me to go, and I’ll go.”

“Come give me a hand getting them on the carriers. I can only do so much with my arrows,” Clint says. “I’m near the hospital. There’s too many people to get evacuated from here.”

“On it,” you said quickly before launching off, using your powers to lift you off the ground. To your knowledge, Loki was fighting off robots near the church, using his illusions and tricks. Normally, you’d be worried for him, but a fight like this was nothing compared to battles he’d faced in Asgard. Not to mention, you couldn’t be your best self if you were too worried about him. So you put your faith in your beloved and found Clint. “You get the people on the boats,” you said before lifting your hands, your power extending from your fingers. The dark purple power electrified twenty bots at once, disabling them. “While I stay here and fight.”

Clint stared at you for a second, befuddled. “Looks like you’ve got it,” he said before running off.

You laughed slightly before going into battle mode, slinging robots with your power, charging nearby items and throwing them, electrifying anything flying above you.

After five minutes of fighting, all of the Avengers and you and Loki made it back to the main part of the church, asking Stark what the drill was. To this, he informed you the core was important. If Ultron got to it, it meant you lost. This was your ultimate mission now. All of you guarded it with your life, surrounding it, readying yourself for whatever Ultron had planned.

“Is that the best you can do?” Thor yelled as the last robot got destroyed by Hulk as he entered where the drill was located.

Ultron stopped trying to get close and in an instant called all his robots to where he was.

“You had to ask,” Steve remarked toward the god.

“This is the best I can do.” Ultron began saying, spreading his arms wide to show his army. He pointed to everyone around the drill, stopping right at Shannon. “This is exactly what I wanted, All of you against all of me.”

Shannon seemed to harden her gaze and began to walk towards Ultron and turned to face everyone else, her eyes were looking directly at you. There was something unreadable in her gaze. It confused you. You’d never seen that look on her face before.

“How can you possibly hope to stop me?” Ultron smirked, watching as everyone was confused as to why Shannon was moving away from them. “When your two strongest are going to fight head to head to survive.” He flicked his wrist and Shannon charged at you, completely emerged in the dark swirls of her powers.

Everyone was fighting off the robots as fast as they could to try and contain Shannon from doing damage to anyone.

Your eyes went wide as you tried to dodge her oncoming attack.

“Shannon, stop!” you screamed. Suddenly, deja vu hit you. You’d been here before, only before, it was Shannon begging you to stop attacking her and New York. You were brainwashed so what was making her… Suddenly it hit you… The Red Room. Her training had been a mixture of Natasha’s and the Winter Soldier’s. This would be hard to crack.

“Shan,” you begged, backing up, stopping your powers from attacking her. “Listen to me. You don’t want to do this. He’s in your head. Don’t let him win,” you pleaded. But she kept stepping towards you, forcing you to back up. You didn’t want to fight her. Not again. Why was everyone always trying to pit you two against each other?

Shannon kept quiet, only the slight grunt here and there from throwing her powers at you. Seeing as this was leading nowhere, she jumped and threw herself into you at full force, knocking the wind out of you. “Why won’t you fight me? Too scared because you’ll know I'll beat you?” She smirked and threw a punch after punch at your face, which hurt like hell. “You always were a pathetic little thing needing someone to keep you safe.” She laughed not even caring that she had gotten blood to come out of your mouth.

You closed your eyes in frustration before letting your body electrify itself, blasting her off of you. You stood up wearily. “Please… don’t do this.” You held your hands up, ready to defend yourself.

“Get up, Y/N.” Shannon stood up, not getting thrown too far. “GET UP!” She laughed. “What happened to us fighting to see who really was the strongest?” She ran towards you pushing you into the wall of the side of the church.

“I don't have anything to prove, Shannon,” you grunted, staring her down. You tried to push her off but she was just too strong.

“And why not? Aren’t you tired of living in everyone's shadow?” She kept pushing, causing the brick to crack around your body. “Show me those Asgardian powers of yours or are they really just those hat tricks your little Loki can do?”

Your eyes grew dark as you glared at her. “Tired of people thinking the wrong things,” you said with a huff before finally pulling some power. You put your hand on the bricks beside you, charging all of them and blasting the wall at her, effectively getting her off of you, but that was it. It only backed her up a few steps. You spit out some of the blood pooling in your mouth. “We don’t have to do this. You’re the strongest. There, I admit it,” you tried, holding your hands up in defeat.

Your eyes flashed to the team, they were all so busy fighting Ultron and the bots, they couldn’t watch you two as well. You just needed to keep Shannon on you if you could, or hopefully wake her from this.

Shannon brushed the dust off her face and hands. “Oh, Y/N, poor little Y/N, always so quick to admit things rather prove your worth. It’s no wonder Thanos was able to manipulate you so well.” Her eyes began to change to their milky white with swirls of red. Causing the sun to disappear.

Some of Ultron’s bots had shown up and had begun to grab ahold of you but they failed to do so.

“Shannon, no!” you screamed, lunging at her to knock the sense out of her. “Don’t!” you said, not thinking, only reacting. Your hand went to her head, all of your energy electrifying her scalp. At first, a scream ripped from her throat, causing Loki and Tony to both look your way. But then her senses overcame your power.

“You think your little shocks will stop me!? It’ll have to take much more than that.” She changed shape becoming Loki. “Love, please don’t hurt me.” His voice came out of her mouth, she laughed watching your expression change.

You knew it was a trick. She transformed in front of your very eyes. You could see your real mate across the field. Tears formed in your eyes.  But Loki or Shannon, you couldn’t hurt the person standing in front of you. You took a deep breath and stood up, relaxing your shoulders.

“You’re right, Shannon. It is going to take a lot more to defeat you. And I don’t have it in me. So you’ll have to kill me. I’m not going to fight you.” You let down all of your guards, all of your defenses, going against every survival skill you’d picked up throughout your entire fucked up life. You couldn’t hurt or kill Shannon. Your power against hers, maybe you could slow her down, maybe you were a match for her -- but you didn’t want to be. Hurting her was not worth it.

“You’re no fun. Let’s kick things up a notch. If you won’t fight me like this, then let’s see if you will for the sake of his life.”  She pointed to Loki as he was lifted up into the air by multiple bots. Shannon turned to him and was charging up her hands with electricity and there was black and red swirling smoke surrounding her. “Will you save his precious life, or will you stop me for the sake of making a good impression on the team?” Her hands began to close and Loki struggled to move and breathe. She was crushing his windpipe with the smoke.

As much as you wanted to fight it, you wanted to hold her off and save him, your brainwashing was still in there. All it took was the pained look on Loki’s face to fully trigger you. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and when you opened them, a white purple glowed inside them.

You ran and hurtled over Shannon’s head, standing in front of her and blasting her back with your powers nearly at full capacity - dark energy and electricity slammed into her. The shock alone could’ve made her heart burst. The blast was enough to get her to let Loki go, but the bots still had him. You spun quickly, casting your energy to them, ripping them apart piece by piece, finally forcing him to fall to the ground. You ran to him, checking on him. He was gasping for breath. You knew Shannon wouldn’t be down for long so you looked back to where she was getting up.

Shannon took that moment that you were distracted to let Ultron know she could grab her. She saw you turn over to look at her but at that moment you were met with Ultron standing in front of you. He grabbed you by the neck and pulled you up and had her facing Shannon. “Now to end this at once. Finish her,” he commanded Shannon.

“With pleasure.” She got up and pulled out a gun from her thigh holster. “If you’d just fought me like you should have, your death would have been different.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Not everyone is made to be a hero, some are just martyrs.” She aimed the gun right between your eyebrows.

Just as she was about to squeeze the trigger, Loki manifested a dagger, flinging it towards Shannon. It only nicked her arm though, because Steve charged at her and slammed her into the ground.

“Banner! I need some help over here!” he shouted.

“Let me go!” Shannon screamed shocking the captain but it did nothing. “You can’t stop me. I will kill her!” She began letting her powers take control but they were no use, the shocks did nothing to him and she couldn’t take anything from him.

You electrified Ultron before slamming a spike you manifested into his cheek. He jumped back, letting you go.

“Steve, no,” you said. “I’m not worth it. Go save the civilians. Fight Ultron. Save the world,” you insisted as he struggled with Shannon. “I can hold her off,” you assured. But you weren’t sure, at all. Shannon playing fair - yes, she was a match for you. Red Room Triggered Shannon? Not so much. That Shannon had a no holds bar attitude, and could very well kill you.

All she could think of was changing into Peggy. “Steve, you’re hurting me, you promised to keep me safe.” She had tears running down her cheek.

It was enough for him to let go in fear that he had hurt her. Shannon took his shield and powered it up with enough volts to kill a pod of whales and threw it at him. He was thrown into Thor’s way.

“Looks like he can’t stop me now. Better run, little Y/N.” Her hands had swirls of fire that kept growing higher up her arms. “Fight me once and for all! Show me everything you’ve got!”

You raised your fists, letting out a breath of air. Just as you were about to unleash fury on her, Hulk came charging up, and grabbed her in his giant hands, pinning her to the ground. You ran up near him, your hands ready. “If I put any power into her, she’ll just use it on you,” you informed, standing beside Hulk. Your eyes scanned quickly for Ultron, but he was back, preoccupied with the rest of the team. At least you had that.

She was screaming, fighting Hulk. You knew he was powerful, but even Shannon could kick things up to the point of getting him off of her. You’d never done this before but you decided to aim your powers in a different manner. The energy trickled from your fingertips calmly into her head, slowly making her vision, hearing, and smell go, disabling her.

Shannon struggled to get the giant hand to let go, he seemed to flinch at the waves of electricity but she seemed to have lost the ability to keep shocking him. Frustrated, she tried her other powers but none of them worked. She tried looking around but her vision had disappeared as had her other senses. She stopped moving for a bit and stood completely still almost as if she’d become unconscious. Seeing her limp form in his hand, Hulk stopped squeezing too tightly, fearing that if he had hurt her too much the doctor would get mad at him.

“Boss, your wife’s vitals have dropped some and she’s gone unconscious,” FRIDAY told Tony inside his suit. He stopped everything he was doing and spun in the air to check on her. “She’ll be fine, but we gotta get Ultron or she won’t be.”

“Right,” he agreed, as much as he didn’t want to leave her. Ultron had sicced all of his bots on the team now, they were scattered, but now it appeared the core was the main objective. The city was already floating, and the team was working hard to figure out how to keep it from exploding and ending the world. There were boats loading the leftover citizens. Now that Shannon had appeared unconscious, you focused your energy elsewhere, deciding to help the team.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked, a bad bruise forming on his cheek.

“As soon as this piece of shit Terminator is dead,” you grumbled before ripping apart a few bots. Your sights set on the big man himself. “Keep him distracted,” you said before slinking off to go around the back of him. “Vision, keep him talking,” you instructed into the comms. Vision did just that, he kept him busy, kept him focused. While you snuck up behind him and began electrocuting him. He reached onto his back and flung you off, slamming you into a brick column. You groaned in pain but stood up.

Vision attacked him with his mind stone, casting a beam at him, while Tony hit him with the repulsors, and Thor lit him up with his lightning. You hobbled your way over to stand beside them, letting your dark energy and electricity pour out of you like a rushing river. His body began to heat up, and you could tell he was melting from the inside as you cried out in pain of trying to keep your power going at this level.

Finally, his form exploded -- but it wasn’t over yet. The bots were still coming. Wanda was manning the core, while the rest of the Avengers got people to boats to safety. You wanted to help, but currently, you were on the ground, panting.

A bot came up, one that Wanda didn’t see, because she was distracted by Pietro getting shot in the shoulder. He wasn’t hurt fatally, but at first she couldn’t tell. You raised your arm to fight him, but you were too weak, and he got to the core.

“No! Wanda!” you weakly shouted and she spun, killing it too late. The core was activated now.

You turned your head to Hulk, immediately. “Hulk, carrier, now! Wanda, get your brother and get out!” you shouted, using all your strength to get up. Hulk nodded and wasted no time picking Shannon up and launching onto a nearby carrier. Wanda ran off to find Pietro, and from what you could see, they made it onto a boat. Loki was already on a safety boat, you could see him from where you were at. A look of terror crossed his face as he realized you were still on the flying city.

“Steve, Clint, you two on a boat?” you asked weakly into the comms, out of breath.

“Yeah, where the hell are you?” Clint asked back.

“Just make sure Tony gets away from here,” you replied. “I’m finishing this.”

You stood up and killed the bot. Ultron wasn’t dead. He still had something out there driving that thing. You narrowed your eyes, about to fly off when suddenly the ground shook beneath you and opened up, causing you to fall in. A scream escaped your throat, you couldn’t help it. You were free falling between ground, rock, roots, and now, you hit the open sky. There wasn’t enough energy for you to fly, so you closed your eyes, waiting for impact - surprised when you were suddenly in someone’s arms.

In shock, you opened your eyes to find Vision.

“Vision?” you breathed. “But what--”

“I’ll find Ultron. Mr. Stark’s instructions were clear -- keep you alive.”

All you could do was frown, but he lowered you onto a boat, next to Hulk who was slowly turning back into Banner.

You took a deep breath, looking around at the Avengers, Shannon… They were safe. The people were safe...Loki was safe… that’s all that mattered.  

The boats got onto the helicarrier, and the Avengers gathered around Shannon, who was still knocked out. At this point, you were terrified you’d done something wrong. You’d never disabled anyone like that with your powers and weren’t sure you’d done it right or safely.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, wincing at the sudden sunlight. All eyes were on her as she gasped and sat up.

“Gahh! What happened tell me? I didn't kill anyone, did I?” Shannon looked around, she was afraid that she’d hurt anyone, especially from the team. “Don’t come near me. I’m not sure I’m stable enough to be in contact with anyone.” She started scooching back and hit the back of a seat.

Tony, obviously worried about his wife, rushed to her and was looking everywhere for visible signs or injury. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself in any way?” He started grabbing her hands.

“No! Don’t touch me,” she shrieked, yanking her hands away. “Please don’t come near me. I don’t want to hurt you.” She hugged her knees to herself.

“Shan,” you tried, kneeling, getting on her level. “It’s alright. You won’t hurt us. You’re not activated any more. You’d never do anything to us,” you assured, giving her a warm smile, trying to scoot closer.

“I don’t know that, none of us do. I can still feel it’s inside me.” Her hands shook as she tried to move her hair from her face. “I just need to be alone. If I need anyone Stevie can help.” She looked over at Steve pleading with her eyes.

“I’ll do whatever you need, doll,” he assured with a slight shrug. “Just say the word.”

“Thank you, Stevie. For now I’ll just go rest.” Shannon got up or tried to get up but she was too weak.

“Here, I’ll give you a hand.” Bruce went to help her get up. “Let’s get you to one of the seats.” He took her to her seat.

“Thank you, Bruce, I’ll get some sleep.” She buckled in her seatbelt. “Can I have some painkillers?”

“Sure thing.”

You glanced to Tony as you stood up, worry on your face. He thrust his head over his shoulder to signal he wanted to talk away from everyone. The two of you stepped far out of hearing distance.

“I had no idea she still had that shit in her. That protocol. Those… That trigger.” Tony shook his head, no doubt blaming himself.

“I didn’t either. I thought SHIELD got that out,” you mentioned. ‘What do we do? Tony, she looks like a wounded animal,” you said, pity in your voice. “She’s terrified to even look at us.”

“I know,” he noted before chewing on his lip, watching his bride. “What do you say we take her back to the X-Men? They were making some headway before, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Her powers are still killing her,” you reminded. “Every time she uses them, and she just let a canon loose,” you remarked. “She needs to be healed.”

He nodded. “Yeah, no, you’re right. We’ll get the rest of the team back to the tower and then I’ll take her to the mansion.”

“We both will,” you asserted softly. “You’ll need to bring Bruce too,” you said.

“Banner? Why?”

“He comforts her. He’s been her primary care doctor. If you’re going to take Shannon there, she’s going to want Bruce by her side too,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Okay, you, me, Banner, and Shannon will go to the mansion,” he corrected, with a bit of an eye roll.

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[hiatuswhore]

Brother

With all the madness going around with the Dread Doctors, my pack had put themselves at a distance. I'm not upset though if things were normal someone would have noticed by now that something was off. Liam hadn't gotten off my case nonetheless but with Hayden being possibly killed he stopped hovering as much.

Having Scott, Lydia, Stiles, and the others in my life was an adjustment. Becoming my family I was only use to it just being my brother and I. All my life he was all I had, all I know. As Damon attended Devenford Prep I went to Beacon Hills. He knew about supernatural though as you had befriended Liam and the McCall pack, he had befriended Brett and the Satomi pack. Like typical fraternal twins my brother and I were heading in very different directions.

"You okay?" Looking up from my food I jumped at his sudden presence. Standing there fringing worry he was quite the actor, "Mind if I join?"

"Not really," I said, running my eyes sleep had been evading me. It was becoming a real game of cat and mouse.

"You look uh-tired?" Theo said, chuckling at his hesitance I could not help but roll my eyes.

"Yeah," I said, looking away from Theo’s observant gaze. All my friends were scattered in the lunchroom. Liam with Hayden, Corey, and Mason. Scott and Lydia, Stiles by himself, Kira nowhere to be seen and Malia by herself. We were split not just as friends but as family. Sharing glances amongst each other we all looked away.

"We need to get everyone back together," Theo said but his words lacked sincerity. Looking up at him with narrowed eyes he looked confused.

"You're an ass you know that?" I asked but he continued his facade, "Don't play dumb it doesn't suit you."

Just like that his confused innocent expression easily became a smirk. Had I not been observant I would have found him attractive, "What are you playing at?"

"Oh come on we both know about your little friends. Starts with Dread and they dabble in a science called Chimeras," I said, shifting uncomfortable Theo grabbed my forearm pulling me out of the lunchroom. In the deserted hall pushing me against the lockers it was now me smirking.

"You're being all nonchalant why?" He asked only centimetres from my own face. Hearing his heart beating insanely he was nervous and every second of it felt amazing.

"Simple if I say anything everyone will just look at me like Stiles. I'll be at a disadvantage and any disagreement or suspicion of you will be assumed to be a silly conspiracy conjured by Stiles," I explained brushing my noes against him the ball was in my court, "I have all the answers one slip up and I bury you Raeken."

"Oh really so why don't you tell your friend what you dream about? Don't worry you'll need me, you'll need answers," He asked reclaiming power of the situation. Glancing at my lips he was tempting me and I needed to keep reminding myself he was the enemy. My mouth running dry I found myself glancing at his lips as well. Chuckling he brushed his nose against my own, “Tell me Lacoss you dream about anything else? Anyone else? Ever dream about me?”

Closing my eyes taking a breath my hormones were almost distracting me from a very important fact. How did he know about those dreams about-them? Taking a deep breath as I pulled myself together I opened my eyes. Looking at him he was hot, but I am no fool. Pushing past him I could hear him laugh and your chemosignals were off the charts. The mix of being annoyed and galvanized. Storming down the hall walking past Liam I could see his frown as I ignored him. Ironic for me to be his anchor when half the I struggle keeping my own feelings in check. I hate to admit it but Theo has gotten in my head. People flooding the halls with classes switching cut Liam off from getting to me as I stood in the middle of the hall falling apart as everyone was clearing out as soon as they entered.

“Oh really so why don't you tell your friends what you dream about?" Like they did the nights I tried to sleep the flashes of them rang through clouding my vision. With them came a horrid sound that brought a pain like no other. Bringing my hands to my ears the feeling was near crippling. Losing my balance letting out a small whimper the flashes were always in the same order. None of them answered any of the questions they created.

"Miss Lacoss!" Hearing Coach Finstock the hallway looked fuzzy. Despite feeling him helping me up he sounded so far away. My brother left school to come get me. Returning back to school leaving me home sleep was inconsistent. Sleeping for twenty minutes I was sitting awake for thirty minutes in between each cat nap. Checking my phone school was over and I had texts from Liam and Damon. Damon letting you know he was with his friends while Liam was worried  about you. Underneath the two of them though say the snake emoji. Not opening the message he was still in your head.

"-you'll need me. You'll need answers," His words were troubling but it triggered my curious nature. Going to Scott’s number there was no way he would listen and going to Stiles would do nothing. The thought of turning to Theo felt naive. Sound of knocking pulling me from my thoughts flooded my senses. Damon was rarely ever home and the house was typically quiet. Walking down the stairs I relaxed as the familiar scent hit my nose. Standing there Liam visibly relaxed as I came into view

"What was that in the hall?" He asked, looking at him I hadn’t told anyone about the vision. Considering lying to him he made it easy for me to stir the conversation away from the topic, "What's going on with you and Theo?"

Leaning on the side of the doorway I couldn’t fight the smirk growing on my face, "Do my ears deceive me or did you just sound extremely jealous?"

"You ignored my question," Liam said leaning on the same wall as I was. Turning my head our noses bumped as challenged each other.

"You ignored my question," I whispered, grinning as we were just as close as I was Theo. Rather than feeling tense with Liam it was different. The banter always light-hearted. Deja vu fell over me as he glanced at my lips. Leaning in closer to me I pressed my forehead to his own halting his actions, "I think you're forgetting something Dunbar."

"What?" He asked entranced by you. It felt like the doorway held an invisible barrier but it was actually in the shape of a teenager girl.

"Not what. Who. H, A, Y, D, E, N," I spelled out slowly in a whisper for a second he seemed to be lost in thought. Backing away he said nothing as he walked away from me almost like a zombie. Watching him disappear from view I could only imagine what he was thinking. Getting back into bed the vision returned and left with various levels of severity. Waking from the final one I sighed in defeat as I grabbed my phone. The screen making me cringe as it was the only source of light in my room. Finding the snake emoji within my contacts it only rang twice before he picked up.

"Where and when?" Is all I asked and he chuckled relishing in a small victory but there was so much to come.

"I told you that you would need me," He said, rolling my eyes, “In thirty minutes just get in your car and drive."

"Wha-?" I asked but the line cut, not changing out of my cupcake pajamas pants I put on my dark grey hoodie. Doing as he said as I got in my car at first I was confused, just making random turns as I pleased I don’t know when but I had zoned out. Coming to a stop I found myself at the cemetery. Standing not too far off was Theo. Parking the car things were only getting creepier by the second, maybe this is how I die is all I could wonder.

"Faster than I thought," He said, walking over to him as I shoved him back he only smirked.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed gesturing to the cemetery.

"Look I know it's a bit morbid but trust me all your answers are here," He said, walking into the cemetery I watched him as he was obviously expecting me to follow. Checking my phone the signal was weak I am many things but not stupid. Sending Liam a text it was cryptic but should definitely be enough.

TR. 3:47 am Delivered

Following Theo's barely visible figure I sighed as my phone lost all service. It felt colder as we walked and the quiet hum of nature left an eerie build up as if something malevolent was waiting for me. The walk lasted about thirteen minutes as I had started counting. Despite the time we were a little far from where my car was parked. Seeing him come to a halt I joined him, ahead of us were no graves but a vast grass clearing and some trees.

"Why are we here?" I asked, looking at Theo who pointed toward the tree. Walking across the grass Theo was quiet at first until we neared the tree.

"Go touch it then I'll explain," He said, walking slowly toward the tree it looked old. The roots were fully branched out and attached to the ground. While the body would likely be nearly impossible to cut. Slowly reaching out you clinched as your palm connected with the tree. As nothing happened you looked back at Theo who was only smirking. Taking your hand from the tree that ear splitting noise was returning except this time it was different.

"Brother help what am I?" Flinching as Theo returned to my view it felt as if I had ran a marathon. It looked like my brother and I, but we were dressed as if it was the medieval times. We both had English accents.

"What was that? I saw myself and Damon but we were different," I explained unable to put what I had just seen into words. Theo said nothing as he walked around the tree but there was a plaque, Santora's.

"Her name was Amara she's been dead over several years ago along with her brother August. Amara and Augustine Santora, they were twins and orphans. Murdered at sixteen they were just regular village children," Theo explained but it didn’t explain why they had my face-or why I had theirs. Walking back toward the graveyard he stopped as an old plaque blocked our path, Perino Family, Touch the plaque."

Theo watched as I slowly crouched down. Placing my hand flat on the plaque I sighed as the searing pain was returning but it wasn't nearly as bad as the nightly visions.

"Let her go! Aspen!" Hearing someone yell I jumped back as I watched as the unknown person tear into the girl who looked just like me. Watching the man bleed her dry the fear in her eyes soon turned to nothing.

"Aspen and Beckham Perino. Both murdered, were twins and orphaned. Just common villagers murdered at twenty-four," Theo explained and I began catching the pattern but it still explained nothing. Walking again and I followed him until we stopped at a tomb stone. 'Xandra and Xander Marcantel 1843.' Touching their tombstone and began again another vision.

"Careful friend we must all bow to my spoiled brat of a twin sister," I watched as she giggled at her brother and for the first time vision wasn't dark and demented. They were much like Damon and I with the playful banter.

"Xandra and Xander Marcantel. Orphans adopted into a rich family actually lived quite some time. Xandra fell for and married James Marcantel the family's son. Xandra and Xander were murdered though at the age thirty-seven. Had kids and was happy but still ended the same," Theo explained and I shifted uncomfortably as it started to seem like a happy ending. Walking again at the next stop the tombstone read, 'Virginia and John Alder 1900-1948.' Touching the tombstone what was once searing pain felt like a mere pinch.

"Stop moping over some silly girl and have fun John all the real boozes are gonna be gone soon brother," I watched as she danced happily having a good time.

"Virginia Alder full of love and fun lived long married and had children. John Alder spent his entire life watching after his wild sister, married, and had kids. Both grew up orphans, and murdered at the age forty-eight," Theo explained and I sighed as this pattern was becoming predictable. As he started walking I followed silently. All the backgrounds mirrored my own and these people, we all share a face. So far into thought as Theo came to a halt there was no tombstone. Looking around there were only fleshly dug holes.

"What the-?" I began, looking down into it but as I turned Theo jammed a syringe into my throat. The initial pain was nothing but as spots started dancing in my vision as I stumbled back I fell. Falling into one of the holes I could see Theo looking down at me.

"Don't worry Lacoss you've got time on your side once Liam breaks Scott down I'm gonna need some way to get him to leave Scott for dead," Theo said and the last thing I saw was dirt being thrown down on me as darkness took over.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed as I gasped awake, the hole seemed shallower. Dirt falling from out of my hair the night seemed lighter somehow

"Watch your language darling," Looking over I realized it was all of them Amara, Aspen, Xandra, and Virginia.

"Where's my brother?" I asked and they all chuckled.

"Don't worry love he's with himself just like you are," Amara said and I looked at them confused.

"So we’re all like doppelgangers or something?" I asked and they all laughed.

"No we’re you," Xandra said laughing and I looked at them with wild eyes.

"Oh sweety relax they're just teasing. Don't worry we've all gone through this. You're immortal (Y/n), the pain you feel will subside when you let us in. We're you're past lives and when you die you'll join us and help us in our next life," Virginia explained and I began backing up from yourselves? Clutching my head all the memories began to flow through each and everyone one of them.  All of it rushing back at once each death, each marriage, each child, each life.

"(Y/n) I'm here. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," choking as my throat felt as if it was cluttered.

"Liam?" I questioned he chuckled squeezing me into a hug. I began to cry remembering each of my deaths and realizing I was just in a grave made for me. Getting home I didn't care about what Theo did, or what happened to the pack just one person. As he stood clearly registering as well you both stared at each other stuck.

"So? Should I call you Amara, Aspen, Xandra, Virginia or is your name in this life okay?" He asked trying to lighten the mood and I smiled happy his personality after each life hadn't changed him. Smiling my chuckle turning into a cry as he pulled me into a hug.

"How many deaths will we live until we truly die brother?"