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flamencodiva · 3 years ago

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Bottom of the Bottle 2 - Sneaking Back on Stage

Description: Dean was at the peak of stardom until his world came crashing down. Can he find his way back to the top?

Word Count: 5340

Warnings for entire series: Smut (oral female and male receiving, P in V, Threesomes, Fingering, Orgies) Fluff, Angst, Violence, Language, Mentions of Drug use, Drinking, Mentions of Death.

Songs in this chapter: Partial Lyrics of Brother's Osbourn Ain't My Fault and Full lyrics of Down don't Bother Me by The Derek Truck Band

Beta'd by: @wonder-cole

Aesthetic by: @firefly-graphics

Dividers by: @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<< Chapter 1

Dean pulled the bike up on the driveway and parked her next to his father’s truck. Then, killing the engine, he hopped off with a smile. Finally, Dean found a place where he could start over, a place he could play and live again. He found a small spring in his step and ran his fingers through his short hair. He was glad it was quick. His years with Purgatory had the band growing out his hair long. He hated it, but it was for the image. At the time, he would do anything just to be able to be involved in music and if growing his hair long was the worst of it, it was worth it to him.

But the minute that he was put in jail and kicked out of the band for something he didn’t do, he was glad to be rid of it. He was happy to cut off the long hair and return to his short locks. Turning the key to unlock the door, he let himself in to find his father sitting at the dining room table, hands folded on top of it.

“You could have gone to bed, you know,” Dean muttered as he placed the helmet on the table in the foyer and shrugged off his jacket to put it on the hook, “I told you I was going to be back.”

“Where did you go?” John asked as he looked up at Dean.

“Out,” Dean huffed, “I’m not a kid anymore, dad. So I went out, the bike had a wire come loose, I was close to a place, got help, came back.”

“You can’t do that again, Dean,” John said as he got up from the table.

“Do what? Go out and have fun? Go out and try to find some friends?” Dean asked, “I’m confused as to what you want from me here. I’m already working at the garage. I’m living under your thumb. I have a damn motorcycle instead of Baby.”

“I just wanted you to think before you went out,” John said as he walked to Dean, “I know you love to sing, and you love music, but it isn’t everything.”

“It’s all I have!” Dean practically yelled. “You know you started spewing all this bullshit about how I abandoned this family and ran away and couldn’t wait to leave,” Dean ran a hand across his face. “I wanted to go out and explore and find myself. You want to know the fucked up thing?” he walked up to his father, “I came back when Sam called me about mom. Not you,” he poked at John’s chest, “Sam, he called me to tell me mom was sick. You were the coward who couldn’t even face me to tell me my mother was dying!”

“Would you have answered the phone if it was me?” John muttered. “You have to admit, the minute you signed that contract, you wanted to high tail it out of here faster than a damn wolf chasing its prey.”

Dean looked down at the floor and licked his lips, “I wanted to get away from you. Not mom, not Sam, you. Because I was so mad and disappointed that my own father didn’t want me to follow something I was good at, something that gave me life.” Dean walked over to a picture of his mother and let his fingers graze over it, “I came every chance I could. I was in that hospital by her side when you didn't know it. I always waited for you and Sam to leave because I didn’t want to fight you while she was fighting Cancer.”

Dean wiped the stray tear that was falling down his cheek and shook his head.

“But it doesn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not that money I gave for the treatments or the fact that I tried to get Mom one of the best specialists I could find.” he turned to face his dad. “Music is in me, and I can feel it. What hurt me wasn’t mom dying. It was the fact that my own father thought of me as a disappointment when I made it big.”

John let his son’s words sink in before heading to the stairs, “A lot of good that fame and fortune did. You became part of a group that, in the end, it brought you back down to zero.” John was halfway up the stairs before he stopped, “you called me a coward for not calling you, but you’re a coward for not manning up to face me at that hospital.”

John’s footsteps began to fade as he ascended the staircase and retreated to his bedroom, leaving Dean to stew in his anger. Dean let out a frustrated growl with his jaw clenched and stomped up the stairs towards his old room. Why was his dad so adamant about keeping him locked up in a cage? He was already in a cell for six months, and he hated every minute of it. Apart from the fact that he could write a few lyrics, he hated being in that damn jail. He didn’t do anything wrong, and everyone tried to fight him for being a damn rock star.

Entering his room, he could see the boxes from his old home scattered around. Some boxes labeled clothing, some marked notebooks, and a few just miscellaneous. Walking to the box labeled notebooks, Dean tore the tape out and pulled out one of his more recently used ones. His fingers grazed over the pages before he turned to his bag full of his things from jail. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small booklet he had filled with some lyrics he had.

Dean didn’t go to bed right away that night. Instead, he took that time to filter through the small notebook and transferred his lyrics to his larger notebook. The memory of Y/N on stage seemed to haunt him. She looked at peace being up on that stage, almost ethereal, an angel ready to spread her wings and fly. Putting down his pen, his eyes roamed his room before settling on the silhouette of his guitar case. Sure, Dean had plenty of guitars, but this one, this one was special, and he was surprised to see it propped up in the familiar corner of his room.

Getting up from his chair, he walked over towards it, pulled the hard case out, and placed it on his bed. Opening up the latches, he lifted the lid and smiled. There nestled nice and snug was a Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar. He loved this guitar and hadn't been able to play it for years. He felt almost sad that he had it with him but could never really pull it out to play often. It was a birthday gift for his 17th birthday from his mother. Sure, she said it was from both her and his father, but Dean had a feeling it was more his mother than his old man.

Gently pulling it out of the case, Dean sat on his bed and placed the guitar on his right thigh, the fingers on his left hand holding down a chord on the fret before he strummed it. He winced at the awful sound that came out. It needed tuning. He looked around his room using the tiny light from his desk lamp and smiled when his eyes landed on the corkboard above his headboard. There, pinned to it, was his favorite pick. It was one of the few things his father did give him that he loved, a pick that he had seen in the music store that he had to have.

Taking a deep breath, Dean began to pluck at the strings and turn on the knobs to find the right notes. There was something about the way he felt holding his guitar that sent a shiver down his spine. Dean missed this feeling, and he kicked himself for letting the image geniuses at the label dictate that he should only be the voice of the band. Focusing on his tuning, he continued to play with the knobs until he was sure the guitar had the right notes to play.

With one last strum, he hummed in satisfaction at the sweet sound. He moved his fingers along the fret, strumming at the strings when a melody came to mind. He wasn't sure of the tempo, but he knew the notes he wanted to play. Adjusting himself and the guitar, he cleared his throat and let the music flow through him.

“Blame the whiskey on the beer, blame the beer on the whiskey,” he let out and smiled, “I like the sound of that,” he chuckled before grabbing his notebook and scribbling it down.

He continued to find the melody, and he figured a slow rhythm was a good fit for the song. At least that’s what he felt.

“Blame the bar for the band, blame the band for the--” he paused as he tried to find the right word, “song? Yeah, that works,” he wrote it down and shook his head gently.

His mind began to fill with doubt as he looked down at the lyrics. Was he really going to try to get back into music? Could he really deal with being a label stooge? He wanted to make music, sure, but it needed to be his music.

“You got this, Winchester,” he calmed himself, “You’ve been playing music for a long time. This is a good song.” he licked his lips and looked down at his fingers, “you had these lyrics in your head for a while, you just gotta get them out.

He continued to strum on his guitar and progressed as much as he could. He had gotten to the first round of the bridge before yawning. But, looking over at the clock, it was well past two in the morning, and he had to try to get as much sleep as he could.

The following day, Dean woke up to his father banging on his door.

“Wake up,” John called through the door, “I’m headed to the garage. You should head out soon. Coffee is already brewed.”

Dean let out a groan and ran a hand across his face to try and wake up fully. He stretched his body before forcing himself to get up. Dean looked at the open notebook on the floor and sighed. He had to finish the lyrics and try to memorize the song by tonight if he wanted to show Benny up. He didn’t like that Benny thought he would use Y/N for his own personal gain. That wasn’t in Dean’s nature at all. Besides, if the song was a hit, he could perform the other songs he had lying around, but he had to find a way to hide it from his dad.

Walking to his window, he looked outside and sighed. The sun was just rising, and he could hear the birds chirping on the nearby tree. Opening the window, he leaned on the windowsill when something caught his peripheral vision. He turned his head slightly to see the trellis that ran up the side of the house by his window. Reaching over, he pulled on it and gave a pouted shrug.

“Still feels sturdy,” he muttered to himself before looking down and feeling his pulse race. “You can do this,” he said, looking at the height, “you did it back in high school to go sneak over to ‘easy’ Gracie's house.” he reminded himself. “That and all of Mullet’s parties to play a gig.”

With a nod, he began formulating his plan. He spared no time in grabbing his clothes and getting dressed. His notebook was tight under the crook of his arm as he made his way downstairs to grab a coffee. His father had already left, leaving him alone. With a coffee mug in his hand, he used his free hand to write out the rest of his lyrics before looking at the time and dashing towards the front door. He made sure he kept the notebook close to him as he got ready for his bike ride to the garage.

He kept to himself as he placed certain things in his locker before grabbing his coveralls and put them on over his clothes. Then, his notebook in hand, he walked over to the work orders board and picked a clipboard to work on for the day. In between changing the oil on a few cars, replacing brake pads, and rotating tires, Dean had finished writing and found himself memorizing the lyrics he wrote out.

“I got my hand’s up. I need an alibi,” Dean muttered, “find me a witness who can testify.”

The melody was slow and funeral-like, and for the most part, it worked. What mattered to him right now was memorizing the damn words so he could get them out. He was sure the melody would change later, as he kept bouncing from uptempo to slow funeral march. It was hard trying to find a good beat, but he wasn’t sure what direction he was going. Was he going to stick to the complex rock rhythm he got used to with purgatory? Or was he going to go to his country roots?

He didn’t notice his father looking at him closely, the sad look on John's face as he recognized that Dean was writing lyrics. The old man could always tell when Dean was working on a song. Dean could never sit still when he was inspired, and the fact that Dean kept tapping different rhythms during the day wasn’t helping him hide it. But John was out of ideas, and the last thing he needed was to find his son on the news where they were announcing his death. It was bad enough seeing his son being arrested on the news, but to have his death broadcasted would absolutely shatter him. John had tried so hard to shelter Dean from getting the performance bug, but it seemed like the tighter John held on, the more Dean slipped through his fingers.

The rest of the day, Dean had played with a few different melodies in his head, but nothing seemed to stick. By the time he had memorized the song, it was time to close the garage. Dean had put his coverall back in his locker and walked over to his bike.

“Dean?” John called.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, turning to face his father.

“What do you think about heading over to the diner we always used to go to for dinner?”

Dean looked at his watch and then back up to his Dad. He still had some time to head home and grab his guitar and sneak out, “yeah, sounds good. Need to have that famous burger of theirs. I missed it when I was up in KC,” Dean said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” John nodded his head as he let Dean go before him, “I gotta lock up, so you go ahead and see if they can get us in a booth.”

“Sure,” Dean called out before putting his helmet on and zipping up his jacket.

The ride to the dinner wasn’t too bad. It was short. To begin with and Dean made it with perfect time to grab the last available booth. Dean ordered a burger for himself along with a beer and a slice of pie for after. The waitress was about to leave when John appeared and slid in.

“I’ll have the meatloaf and a water, Jenny, thanks,” he said to the young waitress.

“You got it, John, coming right up,” she smiled at the elder Winchester before turning to Dean and winking, “I get off at 8.”

Dean offered her a smile before turning to his father, “you come here a lot then?”

“Haven’t really cooked since your mother died,” John muttered as he looked at Dean. “You did good work today,” he changed the subject, “I was thinking about showing you how to run the books and showing you all the accounts, you know, get you ready to take over.”

“Dad--” Dean sighed, “I love working at the garage, I do, but it won’t make me happy.”

“Because music makes you happy,” John scoffed, “look what music did to you!” he pointed out.

“You know as well as I do that it was the industry, not the music. Those are two different things!” Dean argued.

John shook his head before running a hand across his face, “look, you need a backup, and I need someone I can trust to take over.”

“You planning on retiring soon?” Dean let out as he leaned back in his seat.

“Maybe,” John sighed, “I can’t run the garage forever, and I don’t want to sell it.”

Dean looked at his father’s face and could see the hurt in his eyes, “you really love that garage.”

“It’s my second love to my family,” John said as he folded his hands together over the table. “Just think about it?”

“I guess I can do that,” Dean muttered as their waitress, Jenny, came by with their food.

“You know she’s single,” John commented as he grabbed his fork to dig into his meatloaf.

“I don’t need dating help,” Dean let out as he grabbed his burger in his hands, “besides, I’m not looking for attachments.”

“Sometimes they’re a good thing, though,” his father commented after swallowing his food.

Dean rolled his eyes, “after the fiasco with Lisa, no thanks.”

“You’ll find someone,” John chuckled, “I don’t think I ever met Lisa.”

“Thank your lucky stars for that,” Dean huffed. “All she cared about was the fame and notoriety. Then I caught her with some publicist screwing in my bed,” he shook his head, “then again, I was nailing two, maybe three girls at a time so… no skin off my back when I cut her loose.”

John stayed silent for a minute, digesting what his son was saying, “so you went for the sex god approach then.”

“Better than being the drug addict,” Dean shook his head and took a bite of one of his fries, “the alcohol helped to just dull the senses anyways. I was a pretty face and a voice for the band, that’s it.”

John could hear the unhappiness in his voice and see the pain radiating in his son’s eyes over not making the music he wanted. It hurt John for a bit, but it also had him thinking about how it might help keep Dean home and safe.

“The business can chew you up and spit you out pretty easily.”

Dean watched as his father continued to eat his meatloaf, letting the conversation die. Yet, he knew where it would lead if he kept the conversation going.

Finishing his meal, Dean cleaned up his face and reached for his wallet before John stopped him.

“I got this son, you go on home, or are you going back out for a ride?” John asked.

“I need to rest, so I’ll be up in my room,” Dean lied as he slid out of the booth. “So I’ll be in bed by the time you get home, maybe.”

“Okay, I’ll be up watching some tv, so I’ll try not to make too much noise,” John pulled out his wallet and a few bills to place on the table.

Dean walked out and towards his bike just as John got into his truck.

On the ride home, Dean was thinking of what his escape plan would be. He already knew he would climb down the trellis, but his guitar had to come with him. Reaching the house, both men stayed in silence as they went their separate ways. Dean closed his door and put the lock on for good measure. He felt like a teenager hiding from his parents, but he knew his father would never understand. And honestly, Dean really had no place to go, and if he had to keep his musical exploits a secret, then so be it. One could say he wanted to try to impress a particular bartender he met last night, also wondering if he would hear her sweet voice again. Grabbing his case, he looked around for something he could use to strap it to his back, finding a rope he could use on the fly.

Once he was sure that the case was secured to his back, Dean carefully climbed out of the window to sit on the windowsill. He moved as carefully as he could, making sure to avoid making too much noise with his guitar case and getting it out of the window. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he reached the trellis and slowly began to climb down.

“You got this, Dean,” he said to himself as he made sure to place his foot on the holes as he climbed down. “Just like that time you snuck out to head over to the bonfire,” he took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat, “granted you also missed a small hole and fell when you reached the last foot off the ground, but you did it.”

Finally reaching the bottom of the trellis, Dean gave a small jump and smiled in satisfaction. Heading to his bike and rolling it away from the house to not make any noise when he started the engine. Once he was a block away, at least, his night began. The ride to Rusty’s was smooth, and Dean could see it already start to fill with patrons. Parking his bike, he adjusted his guitar and made his way inside. His smile grew when he saw Y/N at the bar already taking orders.

“You know we really do have to stop meeting like this,” he called out with a smile when she turned to him.

“Does that line work? I mean, right now, it just seems like you’re trying too hard,” she let out as she walked over to him, “going to drink, perform, or both?”

“Both,” he answered, “know where I can find Jo?”

“She’s over by the stage taking names for tonight,” she pointed over to the blond who was talking to a few groups.

“Wait,” Dean squinted a bit, “That’s Jo Harvelle? I know Jo,” Dean smiled and turned to face Y/N, “Will you be performing tonight?”

“Nope,” she sighed, popping the ‘p.’ “Yesterday was a fluke. I was filling in for someone.”

“I’m going to go talk to Jo,” Dean said before leaning over and taking Y/N’s arm gently before she could leave. “Whoever told you that you weren’t amazing last night was lying to you, sweetheart.” He let her go before she could give him a counterargument and made his way to the stage with his guitar strapped to his back.

As he approached the stage, he could feel a hand pull him back, and a person walked past him.

“Hey,” he called out, “do you mind?”

“Why yez, ah do mind,” the familiar Cajun voice said, “didn’ tink youz goin’ tah show up.”

Dean gave Benny a cocky smile before huffing, “I did tell you I would see you. Let me guess you have a song to sing tonight too?”

“Betta’ than what chu have to play i’m zure,” Benny chuckled, “I didn’ tink dat dey let chu play an inztrumentz.”

“I was playing the guitar before I ever joined that group,” Dean said with a low growl, “how the hell did you recognize me anyway.”

“The long lockz don’ matta to me brotha,” Benny sighed, “but da eyez are da windows to da soul.”

“You and everyone else seem to recognize me,” Dean muttered, “well, you can go ahead and sing your song before me,” Dean offered him a sly smile, “I’m sure I can bring the house down.”

Benny let out a scoff before turning away to walk towards Jo, “good luck wit dat brotha.”

Dean watched as Benny talked to Jo, who gave him a quick nod while jotting down a note. Once she was done, the Cajun turned around and checked Dean on the shoulder.

“Good luck up, der,” he chuckled at Dean, “you lookz like you need it.”

Dean clenched his jaw as Benny walked away. The guy really didn’t like him. Dean didn’t do anything. Hell, most people’s assumptions of him now have to do with the damn drug charge. Shaking his head, he walked up to Jo and adjusted the guitar strapped to his back. As he walked up to the young blond, he couldn’t help but smile as a memory of a young girl in pigtails flashed before him.

“Never thought you’d grow out of the pigtail stage,” he said as he stood in front of her.

“Well, well, well,” she said, chuckling before pulling him into a tight hug, “never thought the infamous Dean Winchester would grace us with his presence. I thought this place would be too. country for you?”

“I want to sign up to perform,’ he let out with a deep breath.

“Fees $20 to perform,’ she sighed.

“Performance fee?” Dean scoffed, “Really, Jo? Who the hell came up with that?”

“Look,” Jo sighed, “The $20 goes for every and all performers. It’s a small fee for renting out the stage. Besides, you get more in tips if people really like you.”

Dean grumbled as he fished in his pockets for a twenty-dollar bill. He handed it to Jo and shook his head, “I’m only going to be singing the one song.”

“Okay,” Jo wrote down his name and smiled, “You can wait by the bar and order some food. I’ll have someone pull you to the back about three performers before you.” She reached over and pulled him into a hug, “Welcome home, Dean. I have a feeling this is going to be a fresh start for you. You never looked right with that band.”

Dean smiled as he hugged her back, “Thanks, Jo.”

With that, Jo pulled away to let him walk towards the bar with his guitar still on his back. Approaching the bar, Dean smiled, seeing Y/N smile as she served customers. Her laugh reached his ears, and it pulled at him. There was a sense of comfort he felt from listening to Y/N’s laugh. Her laugh was very familiar to him. Walking to the bar, he pulled up a stool and sat down to wait for his turn. He wanted to try out his new song, but he wasn’t sure about the tempo yet. He continued playing around with different beats, but all he could come up with was a depressing march, but it didn’t seem to fit the song at all. With a groan, Dean decided to get something in his stomach while he waited.

“You look like you got something bothering you, Gringo.”

Dean snapped his head up from the menu to see Y/N leaning over the bar top towards him.

“Just trying to figure out what to eat before I have to head up on stage,” He chuckled, trying to shrug off the nervous feeling he had on him. “Besides, Benny’s gonna get mad if he sees you talking to me.”

“I can handle Benny,” Y/N offered him a smile, “besides, I’m the only bartender here, so I’m doing my job.”

“What do you recommend from the kitchen?” Dean asked as he licked his lips. There was something alluring about Y/N, but at the same time, he felt as though he had known her from before their encounter in the coffee shop.

“Honestly? The ultimate bacon burger,” Y/N answered. “It’s got premium Angus beef, with nice crispy bacon, a chipotle aioli, lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles. Not to mention you can have it with steak fries or onion rings.”

“That actually sounds good. I’ll have that and a bottle of Margiekugels,” Dean closed up the menu and sighed, “So is there ever a chance I’m going to see you on stage again?”

Y/N looked over at him as she put in his order on the digital register, “I don’t know,” she sighed, “it was just a one-time thing being up there.”

“Well, if you ever want to go up there again,” Dean said before taking a sip of his beer, “I could always be your backup.”

“Look,” Y/N shook her head with a slight huff. “I know all about you. Just because you cut your hair doesn’t mean that people aren’t going to recognize those big green eyes of yours,” she gave him a soft glare. “I’m not into rock stars, so do me a favor and just find someone else to play with, okay?”

Dean let out a small huff with a smirk, “well, screw you then, sweetheart.”

He took another sip of his beer and shook his head.

“You think you know me because of what the media says about things I didn’t even do? Then fine, you know me. But in reality, you’re just a scared little bitch who wants to stay behind the bar counter.” he grabbed his guitar as he got off the stool. “You can have them send my burger to the table in the corner over there,” he pointed towards the back of the saloon and slapped some money on the counter, “keep the change.”

He stalked off with his beer and guitar, chest full of anger as he looked up to see Benny had already gone on stage and was singing a song. The people were cheering and hollering for him.

Goin' 'round in circles

Pickin' out a cue

Travelin' with no memory

Ow, in my shoe

Down don't bother me.

If the music say

You can take a picture baby

Time won't care

And you're my second nature

A-coming over me

And though I might be shakin'

Down don't bother me no more.

Down don't bother me no more

As Benny finished his song, Dean rolled his eyes as everyone in the crowd cheered and whistled. Seemed like Benny has a crew of regulars that come to see him. He took a swig of his beer, smacking his lips and smiling at the waitress who brought his burger to him. Dean could feel Y/N staring, but he didn’t care. She had made up her mind, and he was done trying to prove to people that he wasn’t an asshole.

Finishing up his burger, he watched as Benny made his way over and rolled his eyes. He should have known that the seat he picked was closest to the kitchen.

“I’ze hope chu enjoyed dat performaze brotha,” Benny chuckled, “chu look like you could yuz da luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” Dean grumbled, “I know my skills, so why don’t you go back to yours and leave me and mine alone.”

Benny lifted his hands in surrender and let out a laugh, “didn’t mean ta hit a sore spot witch you. Enjoy da burga.”

Dean shook his head as Benny walked into the kitchen. His nerves were starting to get the best of him as he could feel his hands shake. Looking at his guitar propped up in the chair, his mind began to spin with thoughts.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ his mind shouted. ‘People are going to hate this song. I don’t even have a tempo yet!’

He could feel his heart race. Nothing could get him to snap out of it. At least, not until Jo came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jerk.

“Hey,” she gave him a warm smile. “You got two performers before you. You should head backstage. I’ll show you the way.”

Dean nodded numbly as he followed her, not noticing an old friend watching him as he disappeared behind a black curtain.

Chapter 3

Tags in the Reblog

#Bottom of the Bottle #Rockstar!Dean Winchester #Rockstar AU #Dean Winchester Fic #Dean Winchester Fan Fiction #Supernatural AU #Supernatural Fiction #Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Reader #Angst #Fluff #Smut #mentions of orgies #Mentions of drug abuse #Alcoholism #violence #fake dating #language

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whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

A Cumbersome and Heavy Body

Chapter Seven: Safe To Shore

You're gone, gone, gone away; I watched you disappear All that's left is a ghost of you Now we're torn, torn, torn apart; there's nothing we can do Just let me go, we'll meet again soon

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word Count: 6680

Author’s Note: I am... so sorry

Derek Morgan walks into the hospital with no rushed agency. A simple leisure stroll guiding him through the hospital and the winding halls. He keeps his eyes cast to the book he’s reading as he works his way to the elevator. No need to watch too carefully when he knows where he’s going. These halls are kept clear of spectators and everyone’s got an agenda so there’s rarely the chance to run into someone’s conversation. His right thumb sits wedged into the spine, holding it open as he eats an apple with the left. He’s not sure he could tear himself away from the pages if he wanted to-- this shit is enrapturing.

His feet carry him on autopilot, making turns he’s memorized without so much as parting his eyes from the words on the page. “How are you holding up, old man?” he doesn’t knock as he steps into Hotch’s room. Not much of a point in it anyways aside from letting Hotch know someone’s coming. The only thing he does worth hiding these days is moving places he shouldn’t be without help. Which, when the fancy strikes, he’s a real fiend for. But he’s in bed, propped up by pillows and half watching Judge Judy and trying to succumb to the drugs pulling him back down for another nap.

Hotch turns his head in the direction of the noise, already knowing from the loud entrance that it’s Morgan. Which eliminates any performative pieces he’d need to throw on to look healthier or to prepare for another round of being poked at and moved about. He lets his eyes slide shut, too tired to engage in conversation and past the point of caring if that looks disrespectful or cold. A shiver escapes him, his skin is broken out in painful goosebumps with his arms bare in the room. Any attempt to curl into himself, turning his shoulder into the bed, is met with sharp pain from the chest-tube.

A nurse had come in not that long ago and moved him around enough to disturb his blankets, even pulling that dreadful mask back up over his face. She’d tucked the blankets around his hips and upped his medicine enough to subdue him. Leaving him too tired, too fogged to piece together the words and tell anyone that he’s cold and wants another blanket. He’s not really there when they give him all the drugs and he hates his inability to communicate. Even opening his jaw requires so much careful thought that he knows any speech he can produce will be slurred to the point of incomprehension.

He looks over to Derek, pleading that in some way the other man has acquired the ability to read his mind. It’s overwhelming but all he can manage is a scratchy hum in reply and a sloppy, “ ‘m fine.” It leaves his mouth poorly, tongue hardly able to move to enunciate what he wants to say. But there are some benefits to having known someone as long as Derek has known Hotch.

Derek noticed the shiver and the pained wince, immediately. Seen the wheels turning over in Hotch’s head and the way he’d sunk deep within himself, disappointed when he was unable to produce it on his own. Derek can’t imagine what it must be like to forfeit so much independence and he knows he’d hate it every bit as much as Hotch must. Only a year ago, Hotch had stood looming over them all giving out orders and the first person they all run to when shit gets bad. JJ’s right hand no matter if she needed him to be her “bad” guy and yell at misogynists or to just be her similar ear when fleshing out theories. Now she’s his defender.

Placing his book and apple down on the visitor’s chair, he moves first to the tangled mess of blankets around Hotch’s legs. Pulling the blankets back and moving them so they sit laid across his body, actually providing him with the comfort and the warmth he wants. Tugging them up until Hotch’s arms are covered with the thick blankets and only his head peaks out. “Better now?” Derek asks, softly. He stays standing, taking Hotch’s hand and watching for Aaron to peel his eyes back open and nod his head. “Good.”

Derek sits back down and, though Hotch has closed his eyes and is just hardly awake, cracks his book open. “You must be on some next level drugs to recommend me this fucking book,” he says. Glancing just in time to see Hotch hide a smirk. “Nah, don’t play with me right now. I’m in an emotionally vulnerable place. You told me it was good and it’s not, it's sad. I’m sad all the time. I’m only sad. Why would you tell me to read this book?”

Hotch smirks, “didn’t think you’d listen… never did before.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “what does that even mean? Of course, I listen to you sometimes.” He just wishes he’d thought a little more about taking on this book. The stupid thing is breaking his heart. He’s getting comfortable again when his phone goes off, ringing and not just another text from Garcia. The one at the door had requested he tell Hotch that she loves him and he would if it was pressing but she’s about ten minutes away and can tell him herself when she gets here. But it’s not Garcia. “Hello?” he stands again, glancing at Hotch and not bothering to excuse himself when he sees Hotch doesn’t even open his eyes to see what it is.

“Is this Derek Morgan?”

Morgan glances back around as he steps out into the hall, feeling off about leaving Hotch alone in that big room. “Yeah,” Derek mumbles. “I mean, yeah, I’m Derek Morgan.”

The person on the other line hums, “I’m calling about Dr. Spencer Reid. I have his medical files here and you’re listed as his power of attorney?”

Derek freezes, “yeah. Yeah, I’m his-- I”m his power of attorney.” It had bounced around between them over the years. Jason and Hotch and now Morgan. Though the point of keeping that amidst the team was so when they went into the hospital it would be easy to get information from the hospital. You can never control what happens in the field.

“I regret to inform you that today Dr. Reid was in an automobile--”

They’re all learning the hard way the field isn’t the only place where they relinquish control.

Derek laughs. Tears sting his eyes and he laughs. For the last month-- no God since fucking January, it’s supposed to be Hotch. He had a suit tailored to fit him because of all the weight he’s lost. Clothes picked out and a tie he and Emily and Garcia fight over at least once a week. Hotch refuses the one Emily likes and Garcia hates it when Emily argues that Hotch will be dead so what does he even care. There’s a Will they’ve been over at least a dozen times and contingency plans for Jack. Derek hasn’t planned and overthought every word he’s said to Hotch in the last year afraid something stupid will be the last for it to be…

“Yeah-- yeah I hear you.”

“Again, I’m very sorry.”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes. “Okay.” He stands there with the phone pressed to his ear long after the line dies. He just stares. Unable to comprehend what just happened. What is happening? It’s just really not their year. Emily never shuts up about how close they are, just over the hill or some bullshit equivalent metaphor. But she’s not the one forcing herself back together knowing that if Hotch suspects Derek’s hiding anything it’ll kill him. He’ll stress himself out trying to figure out what it is and if he does figure it out or even if he doesn’t… it will kill him. He steps back into the room, double-checking that Hotch won’t see that he’s just cried. “Hey--” he stops right there at the door.

Hotch is sitting up with his eyes vacantly cast to the blank wall in front of him. His shoulders pull up to expand his lungs but he can’t get enough air. “Hotch?” Derek looks around the room, to the monitors picking up speed as his heart rate rockets and his blood pressure drops. “Hotch, you okay?”

Hotch looks over to Morgan and then back at the wall. “I can’t breathe,” he pulls at the gown loosely holding onto his shoulders. “Something--” his face pinches, a hushed cry of pain leaving his lips as he folds into himself. “It won’t-- Somethings-- Somethings wrong.”

Derek moves to step in but he freezes as the room is filled with the sound of very, very angry sounding machines. He stumbles back, watching Hotch fall back onto the bed. Kicking and writhing as he tries to breathe. He’s not even sure what to do. His mind is fogged with the news about-- God, how’s he supposed to tell Hotch? Garcia’s coming, he’ll have to tell her. And Dave and Emily and JJ. They can’t handle this. They won’t make it.

“Excuse me,” a nurse steps past Derek and he stumbles back. He hits the wall behind him, jumping hard at the sudden jarring hit. Derek looks back at Hotch one more time, watching his legs slide back down to the bed. His frantic wheezing gets softer. And Derek walks away. He runs away. He can’t be there.

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

Mid-February

Emily looks down at the comforter, playing with the soft material rather than looking at him. He is laying down, stretched out beside her. It’s the first time she’s seen him vulnerable-- the first time she sees the way that he has no control over what his body decides to do anymore. Ice pack over his head, trying to soothe his headache, and a bloodied tissue in the other as he awaits the next nose bleed. They’re close enough to touch despite having a whole bed to layout on. His leg against her side, her arm near his hip.

“I’m sorry,” he offers nasally. Turning his head to look over at her, she winces at the sight of his bloodied face. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

She looks down at her lap, scratching at her pants so that she doesn’t have to look at him. It is a lot to ask. It’s a job she’s had before and for a long time. After Foyet he asked her to be his power of attorney because Haley wouldn’t be able to while in protective custody and as they stood she was the only person who could stand to be around him. She’d agreed, so long as he’d be hers that way she could get her mother off the list. They’d done the paperwork together.

“I don’t want Dave--” he chokes himself up. Holding his hand over his mouth as he averts his eyes away, trying to hide just how upset the idea makes him. “He, ugh, I don’t want to… He had a son, you know? A-- A baby and I don’t mean to say I’m, you know, but I don’t want something to happen and force him to…”

Dave cares very deeply for all of them but it’s no secret that he has a special little attachment to Aaron and Emily. A bond that is a little more pronounced, he just knows how to deal with them. Something about that reckless nature of theirs that he knows all too well. Emily knows what Hotch means even if he can’t bring himself to say it. Before making Dave his power of attorney was a matter of convenience. Now he has to think, far more than before, about who he knows will make the right decisions.

“Aaron,” she squeezes his hand. “I’ll do it.” Her heart hurts just to think about the worst-case scenarios. Imagines doctors asking way too many questions and his lifeless body spread out on a stretcher waiting for her to tell them they can pull life-support. Will she find herself in charge of a zombie, hovering between life and death, and all he has is her by his side and her voice to go by. To tell the doctors they can try shocking his stilled heart one more time or if they can stop dumping chemo into his unresponsive veins. What is she getting herself into?

“One condition.” she barters. “You be mine again. Old times sake.”

He’d caved because he knew it was the only way to win.

In another hospital on a metal tray in the E.R. soaked in blood and screen cracked, Emily Prentiss’ phone sits idle. The decision to make him her medical proxy was a whim but there was an air of urgency in making her his. To him, they were playing with time and he hates waiting for the inevitable. She’d just wanted things to go back to the way that they were before. Coming home because she misses them and maybe working in the BAU or at least within the FBI again. She gets to be his right-hand man again and she and Dave and Hotch get to spend afternoons drinking in Hotch’s office.

It wasn’t supposed to mean this.

This was never supposed to happen.

David Rossi picks up the unknown call, agitated to be bothered while he’s driving. “This is he.” He gets onto the high-way and grimaces at the carnage of mangled and warped metal sitting on the side. Waving the man in the fireman’s suit who directs him into an adjacent lane but he’s not spared the sight of the crimson pools of blood baking under the sun. He shakes his head, sighing sadly.

He nearly causes another wreck.

“Are-- Are you sure you have the right… I mean, I just it’s hard to believe because--”

“Yes, sir. Ms. Prentiss’ I.D. was found on her person at the scene. We’ll have to have someone come to identify the body but yes--”

The body.

He just opened the text she sent. Urging him to go to the hospital sooner because she was leaving to go get Reid and didn’t want Hotch sitting there alone any longer than he had to. She’s always thinking about that, covering them in ways they hadn’t thought of. Sending them articles about cancer and never seeming to have to ask Hotch anything just knowing. There were two texts, one that was distinctly her and the other Reid. Too much grammatical rule-following to be Emily who texts by shortening every word she can and miss-spelling the other half.

If Emily’s dead… where’s Reid?

He has no choice but to keep driving to execute this one thing that’s been asked of him. He’s going to go sit with Aaron until someone else comes and he’ll keep this all under wraps. Just a few years ago Aaron pulled off the opposite, convincing them Emily was dead. Let them bury her and work through their grief assessments all while knowing she was alive. Dave can manage this.

But Aaron hadn’t fooled Dave.

And Dave doesn’t fool Aaron for a second.

“Where is she, David?”

David. No one else is there when he arrives and no amount of water he splashes across his face can wash away the deep red agony of the mourning he feels in his bones. To lose a child… He can’t protect any of them. Another painful reminder to hit him like a kick as he steps into Aaron’s hospital room. Watching as the staff around Aaron plunge drugs into his forever thinning body. Even though he knows there’s nothing to be done now, it’s a futile fight.

The weight of his body in that visitor’s chair is unwelcomed, wrong.

Aaron’s body might fail him every chance it gets but he’s been a profiler his whole life. It’s the only way to survive and now is no exception. No amount of Dave’s soft diversion will distract him from the red swelling around Dave’s eyes. From the wet rings around his sleeves where he didn’t push his sleeves up high enough before splashing water onto his face. And he pieces his own truth together through what Dave won’t tell him.

Until he knows.

“Don’t lie to me,” he asks softly. They’d tried to intubate him just after Derek left but he’d refused it. Fought between heaving breaths until they left him alone. Gave him the steroids and left him to his own devices. He didn’t care right in that moment or even now as his chest burns from the exertion. No more, he’s decided. He’s tired and in pain. No more cuts and tubes and hospitals. The sort of thing that he’s expecting to scream and fight with Emily about. Only the papers are on their way, waiting to be signed by his trembling hand, and she’s not here. “Please, Dave. Don’t lie to me.”

David Rossi is a bad man. Not so much a coward as just his morals askew, the things he’s willing to do and the things that he does do… Though for all the bad things he’s done, he knows that Emily and Aaron keep turning back around expecting Dave to be there. Needing him to come into their chaotic as all hell lives as if he has a place at that table. But his place is there, the plate set. Aaron is looking back at him, asking just a simple thing of Dave. It’s right there and the truth will kill him but a lie will shatter all that they have.

“She’s dead, Aaron.”

Dave continues on as Aaron chokes, turning his face away from Dave.

“Derek thinks it was the snow. She and Reid… there was just so much snow and when she--”

“No!” he doesn’t want to hear it. “No, please leave me alone.” The panic builds up like the fluid in his lungs. Until he’s choking on both and can hardly breathe. He doesn't want to hear anything. Doesn’t want to know that it happened.

“Aaron?” Dave stands from his chair, trying to reach out to him but Aaron pulls his hand away.

“Please,” he wheezes, fingers wound into his gown. “Please, Dave, please go.”

A nurse steps into the room and Dave looks back at and then to Aaron and he listens. For once in his life he listens to Aaron’s pained cries and he relents. He steps out of the room, pushing hot tears off his cheeks with his fists. He’s losing them. Lost them. It’s far too late now. What was Aaron holding on to before? The idea of living was only entertaining with the prospect of getting to work with Emily again-- being on the team. Aaron’s been convinced for far too long now that Jack would be better off with Jessica and the past few months, in his mind, have only proven that. The team functions without him, they’ve been sent off on cases without him. Morgan taking charge. It’s not the first time Morgan's taken charge.

So, what does that leave?

His mess has been cleaned up. He doesn’t have to pretend to be strong for Reid. Doesn't have to stay for Emily. Derek will take care of the team. Jessica will raise Jack. It’s better this way. Garcia and JJ don’t need him, they never have. Dave’s always saying how he needs friends his own age. This puts them on a new path. A new leg. They’ll be okay.

It’s better this way. It really is.

“Sir?”

Hotch signs the papers-- all of them. A DNR that Emily had once rolled her eyes at him for even considering. She wouldn’t let it get that bad, she’d promised with a chuckle. He’s not dying on her. Funny how just a little snow changes everything. He signs himself out of the hospital and realizes that he doesn’t have anyone to come get him. A nurse tries to talk to him, to comfort or console but he’s consumed by his grief. Shaking as his silent sobs shake his thin body. She’s nearly afraid he’ll kill himself like this, crying so hard that he can’t breathe.

He takes a taxi home. Forehead leaning against the cool glass and thankful that the man driving doesn’t even bother to pretend to be interested in him. No one’s at the house but she’s everywhere. Her coat on the floor where it had fallen off the rack. A pair of her shoes right in front of the door, he nearly trips over them. A mug she left out on the counter. A book left she’ll never finish on the couch. A sweatshirt thrown over a chair.

His feet carry him on autopilot, body too tired to fight but he can’t make it back to his room. If she were here-- he’d still be in the hospital-- she’d bully him back onto his feet. Rolling her eyes and keeping him in motion. She always seems to know when to push and when to cave and he doesn’t. He can’t tell the difference between pain that he can push through and pain that’s going to kill him.

Well… maybe it’s pain that is killing him now.

The couch is cold but the blankets are kept in a chest too far away. Across the living room just far enough away that he knows he might be able to get to it but he won’t be able to get back to the couch. All he can do is look over at it.

He already misses her. The way she buzzes about everywhere or how she’d probably force him to sit up and watch some shitty sitcom with her. He’s gotten used to her invading his personal space and demanding his attention. Talking all the time even if he doesn’t respond.

He’s alone again.

How did he ever set out thinking he could do this in the first place without her?

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

He gets worse, quick.

The pneumonia is what’s hurting him the worst, the cancer spreads slowly but the pneumonia settles deep in his lungs. Breathing is taxing, consumes far too much of his energy. Once, maybe a few weeks ago, he would have assured them that he would be fine. There’s no need to worry. It’s hard to lie about something like that when he needs Derek’s help to stand, when he can’t sit up on his own without being propped up by pillows.

They argue where he can’t hear them, not that it matters anymore.

He wants to go to the funerals but it’s still cold out. How are they supposed to make that happen? Derke hates the idea, tells JJ to just abdon whatever plan she’s come up with because he’s not going. He’s still convinced they can force life back into him, go back and fix everything. He’s living in some world where there is no cancer or car accident and Emily’s in London and Reid’s in Las Vegas visiting his mother.

JJ goes on. She picks out a suit and finds his best jacket. Hunts down a nice blanket and takes the wheelchair the hospital offered them. She smiles and tells Garcia that she’s an angel when she knits him a black hat to pull down over his head, beaming when she produces a matching scarf. “It’s got a little blue in it,” Garcia says, showing her the dark blue accenting the ends. “That’s his favorite color.”

JJ squats down beside the bed, pulling her dress up so her knees can bend, and she can move how she’d like. Gently, afraid touch alone will unravel him, she places her hand on his shoulder. She doesn’t shake him, she just rubs her hand over his arm until his eyes crack open. “You’re still sure you want to do this?” she asks as he slowly places himself. A weary, bone-tired weight settling over his face as he looks back at her processing what she’s asked.

He glances at his nightstand to the alarm clock sitting to his right. They’ve given him an hour, which is more time than he’d normally need, but they’re not moving at his normal pace. They’re moving at their own pace, how quickly they can work him into clothes. With a nod, he sets them into motion. There used to be a time when he could be picky about these sorts of things-- who saw him naked and who he allowed to help him. Now he can’t go to the bathroom unless someone helps him drag his stiff bones there. Can’t stand unless he’s leaning into someone else’s strength.

He’s folded into JJ, going where she pulls him into her chest, so that Derek can slide in behind him and help her work his unwilling arms and legs into pants and a shirt. The day isn’t altogether that weary just a little cold. Considering the weight he’s lost, it makes things easier for them to layer his clothes. He lets JJ pull a long-sleeved t-shirt over his head, slowly working his arms into the sleeves while she finds his white button-up and the black sweater Morgan laid out to go underneath it. It takes her no time to attack the buttons on his shirt. He gets no real warning from Derek as the black sweater is tugged down and he hears a soft, pleased huff of a half-laugh that Derek gets out of his surprised grunt.

JJ frowns at Derek, unamused with him. She squats down by Aaron’s legs, JJ cups his cheek, tilting his head up so she can look into his eyes. Stroking her thumb across his cheek, “you don’t have to come, Hotch. No one will--”

“I do,” he whispers. “I can’t-- I won’t forgive myself if…”

So he goes and she’s glad he’s there because she doesn’t want to be alone. There’s something still grounding about him being there, sitting there beside them. Squeezing their hands to comfort them, offering Garcia a handkerchief to wipe her eyes. It’s like… It’s nearly like he’s himself for a day. Holding JJ to his chest and rubbing her back until she can stand and give the eulogy she’d written. He’s talking softly to Morgan, the two of them taking charge of the day and Derek is just relieved to be told what to do again. To have a plan of action that he doesn’t have to come up with.

Jack stays glued to him, sitting in his lap or holding tight to Hotch’s sleeve.

Hotch is Hotch. He stifles his coughs and sits up straight. Pretending is exhausting and by the end of the day, the other’s flooding his dining room with the thick scent of food and soft sniffles as they cry and laugh, he settles into the couch. Listening to Derek tell the story about the time he took Spencer hiking and the kid twisted his ankle half-way to the top, didn’t tell Derek, and he had to carry him all the way back down. It was like listening to a podcast, Spencer telling them all kinds of things about every little thing they passed. At the time he was annoyed but now...

Jack stops at the end of the couch, sniffling as he uses his sweatshirt’s sleeve to wipe his nose. It’s obvious he’s been crying no matter how hard he’s tried to cover it up. His eyes get red and the skin around his eyebrows very pale, he gets that from Haley. Neither of them has ever been able to hide their tears. They’re cryers, Hotch knows, Jessica is too. He finds it terribly endearing and he’s always adored their ability to be so sensitive. He’s glad Jack never lost it… he hopes he never loses it.

“Don’t wipe your nose on your sleeve,” Hotch says as well as he can. It’s hard to breathe around the fluid in his lungs but he can manage anything for Jack. He’ll do anything for him. “That’s gross.”

Jack giggles because he’s young and boogers on his sleeve are something to laugh about. Hiding his face by looking down at the floor he stumbles over to the couch. Sinking down onto his knees with a little thunk and folding over the cushions until he can press his face into the stack of blankets over his father’s body. He turns his head, looking up at his father, and smiles again. Closing his eyes when Hotch puts his hand over Jack’s cheek, stroking back the overgrown hairs. “Daddy?” Jack doesn’t know the word for the way that he feels but it’s anxiety. He’s terrified and he’s anxious because losing Haley had been quick and he hadn’t even known it was happening.

Losing his father is… everywhere he looks.

“What is it, buddy?” Hotch strokes the soft blonde strands back behind Jack’s ear. Lost to the simple soothing motion.

Jack turns his face into the blankets, relieved to smell something homely. From what feels like so long ago. It doesn’t smell like Jessica’s house or like the hospital. It just smells like his dad and home and like everything that has been happening is one great big old lie. He doesn’t want to cry but no matter how hard he wipes at his tears they keep coming.

“Okay, okay.” Hotch can’t lift Jack but he still manages to catch one of Jack’s furiously rubbing hands. His grip isn’t strong and Jack could pull free but he doesn’t. “Buddy--”

“You’re gonna die, aren’t you?”

He put off this conversation far too long but it still hits like a MACK truck. “Bud--” he swallows thickly, wincing at the stab of pain across his chest. Right, he’s reminded, have to stay still. And Jack sees it. No matter how hard they’ve all tried to protect him he sees Hotch freeze as the pain overwhelms him. Unable to speak, just has to keep forcing air in and out of his failing lungs. It is only a minute but Jack watches frozen in horror as Hotch slowly comes back. “Sorry,” he whispers, unable to make his voice any louder.

Jack is holding his hand, hiccuping softly. “Mommy probably misses you,” he whispers, tentatively.

Hotch smiles but doubts that. Tears swell and he can’t even wipe them away. “I’m so sorry Jack.” He’s making an orphan out of his son. He’s just a baby. Someone else will teach him how to shave and someone else will sit with him when he opens his acceptance letters to all kinds of great colleges. Hotch will never get to see him graduate-- not even from elementary school. He’ll never struggle to piece together what to say when Jack gets his first heart-break or to find out if he’s into men or women or likes to wear nail polish or if he’s a coffee fiend like him or hates it like Haley.

He won’t be there.

“I’ll still talk to you,” Jack offers. “I promise. I’ll tell you anything and everything--” there are tears pouring down his little face. Frantic now and Hotch isn’t sure which of them he’s trying to console. “And-- and--” Jack’s lower lip curls under the other and lets out a choked sob. He tries to hide it but it comes out he sits up, pushing himself as close as he can get to Hotch. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to be with Mommy. I want you. Why can’t you stay with me?”

It’s not the first time Jack felt anger towards his mother but it’s the first of many times he hates both his parents. His mother for not being here and father for being weak because that’s all Jack can understand. That cancer is a battle and his father, the man he thought invincible, is losing. So he must not be fighting hard enough. Why can’t he just fight harder? Why isn’t Jack enough?

Why aren’t any of them?

Garcia knits him thick winter hats but he’ll never make it long enough to see the next snowfall and need them. He takes the hats she brings him and lets her start new ones even though he knows he’ll never see their completion. Jack draws pictures, endless in supply, and they go up all around Hotch. JJ takes the time to pin each one someplace he can see it.

His awareness goes first. The confusion that sets in… it’s hard to know what to say. They never know what to do.

He asks about work. JJ takes his hand and talks him through old cases. Tries to settle on the good ones and he lets her. Smiling comes easy when there’s winning and she reminds him of the children they did save. Of the goods things.

He tells them that he’s not in any pain but he’ll get confused a few moments later and with tears streaming down the sides of his face ask them why it hurts. Trembling and looking so desperate, choking in pain and shuddering as he fights it. “Why?” he asks. He doesn’t honestly know why it hurts or why they won’t help. “Everything-- Everything hurts--” And sometimes he can’t even speak. Just has this hazy glow to his eyes as he shakes and coughs. And there’s nothing they can do for him.

The worst is that he won’t stop asking for Emily. They come up with so many lies and sometimes they can get little smiles out of him by telling him something clever if it feels right and like something silly she would do. It’s hard to be so positive in the face of that very fresh wound but it’s so much worse when he does remember. When he asks and then hardens and whispers, “no… no, it’s okay. I remember.” He looks so much happier when he doesn’t.

He stops eating two days before he gives up drinking.

“Just a sip,” Garcia begs, crying and knowing what this means.

Hotch just looks back at her but he’s not there.

“Leave him alone, baby girl.” And Derek pulls her out of the room as she cries, sobbing and screaming because she can’t stand to lose anymore. Emily and Reid and now he’s going too. It’s too late she knows to tell him the things that she needs to. What if he doesn’t know that she loves him? He might stay if he knew that, right? He wouldn’t leave her. She’d ask Derek to promise he won’t leave but Hotch did that too once. Crotched down in front of her office chair and took her hand and promised that all she needed him he’d be here.

Well, she still needs him, okay? So…

Now it’s borrowed time.

“Let’s go outside, old man.” Derek has to stop, turning his head to the side when Hotch smirks at the way he says ‘old man’. A tear falls down the side of his face and rubs it away, harder than necessary. It’s a practiced maneuver, he lifts Hotch and puts him in the wheelchair. He’s careful, wrapping Hotch in as many blankets as he finds within arm’s reach, propping his sides up with pillows. Suddenly, overcome by just the way Hotch’s bed looks. Two years ago it was empty, only ever occupied by him. Now they sleep here with him every night, trying to make sure that if he goes in his sleep he’s not alone. So that they can have the comfort of knowing they were here and they did do everything they could.

“Jack,” Hotch rasps as they approach the door.

“Can you hear him?” Derek asks, opening the back door and closing his eyes against the sun he feels on his skin. “Look at him,” Derek says, “ out here running around like a heathen.” Jack doesn’t notice them and neither does Henry. The two loudly going on about their game dodgeball or maybe keep-away it’s hard to tell. There’s just a lot of thrilled shouting. It makes Derek smile, seeing them just be kids.

He puts Hotch in the shade and waves to Garcia and JJ already standing out there, the two of them dragging out chairs to stand in the sun. The two of them move to soak in a strangely warm day. After all the snow, all of which still hasn’t melted, a random nearly sixty degree day with a bright hot sun feels like spring. “You okay here?” Derek asks, setting the brakes.

Hotch nods, smiling softly as he watches Derek join Dave and the boys in the yard. He watches them play, hears Jack scream with pure joy when Derek throws him up into the air and when JJ fusses with all four of them for even thinking about taking off their jackets. They go on and on and he gets tired just watching them. Resting his head against the wheelchair he does his best to keep his coughs soft, undetectable to the others. He’s cold but he doesn’t want to go inside just yet and though it’s hard to breathe he doesn’t want anything. He just wants to watch a little longer.

Just a little longer.

Derek isn’t sure what it is, something churning in his stomach, but he looks up. Eyes moving across the lawn-- Garcia knitting under the safety of her large brimmed hat and JJ stretched out on a chair trying to read. Jack has Henry pinned, the two of them going on wrestling with or without Derek now that he’s distracted.

“Hotch?” Derek steps closer. Derek feels it crawl up his throat, a rabid animal clawing and ripping him to shreds. He wants to rush over, fights the urge to run over and shake him but he already knows. He glances over to Dave, listens to the older man chuckle and shove at Henry who tries to overpower him. Sees JJ smile at something on her page and Garcia frown and undo a piece she’s messed up.

For a moment, he’s the only one that knows and he isn’t sure what to do. How to shield Jack from this or who he’s supposed to call.

“Uncle Derek!” Henry screams, begging to be released from where Dave has him pinned to the ground mercilessly tickling his sides.

Derek looks back at Hotch one more time, forcing himself not to cry. This is what he wanted, right? Not in a hospital or hooked up to machines. He was sitting in his yard and listening to what’s left of his family enjoy a warm sunny day.

“I’m coming buddy,” he finally manages, smiling at Jack when he comes running up. Hoping that for just a few more minutes Derek can preserve something of his youth. Remind him how much fun he had today. That these parts be what he remembers.

“Uncle Derek?” Jack asks, once Derek pulls him up into his arms. “I think we should go get ice cream. Don’t you? I’ll get strawberry and I’ll even share with daddy. Henry will be good too! Please?”

Derek nods and smiles, “why don’t you get Uncle Dave to take you, huh?” He nods to Dave, “take these heathens to get some ice cream.”

And Derek Morgan stands all by himself as he ushers them away, tells them to go on that he and Hotch will be fine. Go, go, and don’t come back without a cone for him. Waits until he can’t see the car anymore and he allows himself to cry. Sucking in choked breathes as he walks back to the yard. Pulling up the breaks. “Come on,” he whispers to Hotch. “One last time, old man.” He’s almost expecting that lazy smile. To hear Hotch grumble his name in that exasperated tone Derek loves so much. Only to be met with silence.

Nothing.

They didn’t say goodbye.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan, @lazyhater

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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featherymalignancy · 4 years ago

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PART ONE — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ❤️

Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before.

This is a two-part story, you can jump to Part Two here. ♥️

The Eyes of Texas, Part ONE

No matter how many times he made the journey, Rowan Whitethorn always found a wonder in returning home. He’d been glued to the window on the plane’s final descent into Maui three days ago, drinking in the sight of the Kahului Bay’s glittering waters and the distant peaks of Haleakalā rising up like silent guardians in the distance. It had only been six months since he’d last been home, but it still made his heart race; he doubted it would ever fail to take his breath away.

It had only gotten better when he’d landed and found not just Cash and Fen waiting for him, but Lorcan as well. The self-proclaimed success story of the friend group, Lor had gotten a full-ride to MIT and graduated with a 4.0 before being recruited to some tech giant in the Silicon Valley. It didn’t matter how times Rowan tried to point out that he himself had needed a recommendation from a US Senator to get into the Naval Academy; Lor would simply start rattling off college rankings and acceptance rates until Rowan conceded defeat just to shut him up.

Even though they lived down the California coast from one another, Rowan rarely got to see Lor. So far as any of them could tell, Lorcan’s whole life was his job, and despite his obscene salary, he rarely took days off, let alone vacations. So for him to come to see Rowan play in the tournament--Ro didn’t think he needed to tell his friend what it meant to him. Not that it would have mattered if he had; the only thing Lor wasn’t good at was talking about his feelings. A likely culprit for why he didn’t have a girlfriend, considering their friend Essar had once dubbed him “the hottest man on all eight islands”.

From the airport they’d driven across the island in Cash’s beater pick-up, Rowan in the cab and Lor and Fen riding in back. It had reminded Rowan of old times, of being 18 and carefree. It reminded him of life before his mom had died, before the Academy and his naval service, before Lyria and the cancer and all the heartache that had come after.

Sitting in the truck, the radio blasting and Cash’ squawking tunelessly along with it, Rowan had felt more himself than he had in months. The stress of studying for the detective’s exam had been wearing on him more than he’d realized, and in that moment it had struck him how badly he’d needed this distraction. A glance at Cash had told him his friend was thinking the same thing.

Cash had been Rowan’s best friend since before he could honestly remember, and despite Lor’s obnoxious declarations to the contrary, Cash was hands-down the smartest person Rowan knew. It had come as a surprise, then, when they’d all started growing up and talking about college and Cash had shown no interest. Neither had Fen, but that Ro had expected. The free spirit of the lot, he seemed perfectly content to stay at home and work odd jobs so long as he could still surf every day. But Cash...he’d always seemed a little lost to Ro. Just a late bloomer, his mother had always insisted. Some of the best people take the longest to develop. Still, Rowan had assumed that now that they were in their mid-twenties, Cash would have figured it out. As far as he knew, though, Cash was still working at the same stuffy restaurant he’d worked at when they were teenagers, though he’d thankfully graduated from a dishwasher to a server and an occasional bartender.

As if he’d known what Ro had been thinking, Cash turned to grin at him, a secret smile that traditionally had spelled trouble, getting grounded, and occasionally running from the police.

“I have some news,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “Remind me to tell you later.”

Ro had meant to ask the minute they’d gotten back to the house, but suddenly there was a shot in his hand and everything else had faded away. They’d partied all night and well into the next day, a decision he’d regretted when they’d all piled onto the ferry to Waikiki for the tournament. Thankfully they’d still had half a day to recover at the hotel before the tournament began, though the trip had gotten decidedly less restful when they’d arrived to find Remy waiting for them, already pissed off.

According to his friends, Remelle St. James was Rowan’s greatest sin. They’d dated on-and-off through high school in what Cash had generously described as a slow-burning dumpster fire, but had lost touch after Ro had left for the Naval Academy and Remy accepted a scholarship to play volleyball at UC Irvine. It was only after Lyria’s diagnosis, and—a devastatingly short six months later—her death that Rowan and Remelle reconnected. For all her other faults, Remy had also lost a sister to cancer young, and she’d been there to counsel Rowan through the worst of his grief.

Her romantic pursuit of him the following year was admittedly less admirable, and Rowan had been quick to lessen his connection to her when it became clear what she wanted from him. Still, that had been almost a year ago, and when she’d called to suggest he come to Hawaii and play in this invitational with her, it had been an offer he couldn’t refuse. Remy was one of the best amateur players on the circuit, having just missed the opportunity to play professionally on the AVP tour the previous year. It was why she’d called, she claimed. This tournament was a great way to get exposure, and mixed doubles was a much higher profile division than that of female twos.His friends, on the other hand, had immediately called bullshit.

“As much as I want to see you,” Fen had said when Rowan had first called with her proposal. “She’s playing you, brother. No offense, but there are tons of guys here she could recruit if she wanted. She asked you because, once again, she’s trying to dig her claws in.”

“Hate to agree,” Cash had chimed in. “But he’s totally right. She just wants in your board shorts.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m good enough to win?” Rowan had countered.

He could picture Cash rolling his eyes from 2,500 miles away.

“Of all the things we just said, how was that your takeaway?”“I never get to play anymore,” Rowan had admitted. “And I miss it. I think I’m just going to do it.”

“In that case, can’t wait to see you, brother.”

And that had been that. It had seemed a great idea up until he’d spotted Remy glowering at him in the lobby yesterday, and now, in the midst of the fourth set of the semifinal match, he was wondering if his friends hadn’t been right.

Game Point, he reminded himself. Just one more point and they’d be in the finals. Just one more point and he could take a blessed break from Remy and all her castigations.He stretched a hand behind him as Remy stepped back to serve, flashing two fingers to signal he would be blocking cross. He could hear her huff of disapproval even with his back to her. They’d been having problems with their coverage all game, and though Rowan could have very reasonably argued it was because of Remy’s defense, she’d blamed his position on the block.

“What’s the point of being a giant,” she’d snarled after the last point they’d lost. “If you can’t shut a hitter down at the net?”

“I’m trying to force the spot you keep saying you want,” he’d snapped back. “Maybe after this game you might want to look into a digging clinic.”

He heard the snap as the ball was served, tracking his opponents through the net as they received. It was a less than stellar pass from the guy, and though the set his teammate gave him was decent, Ro could see the swing was going to be exactly where he wanted it.

He lingered to the left until the last moment, feigning a block that would force the hit line. He struck just as the hitter began to make contact, taking a quick step to the right before exploding up. Rowan could feel in the way his muscles uncoiled that it had been a perfect jump, and he turned his face away to avoid a broken nose as his hands made contact with the ball. He could tell from the sound alone how dominating a block it had been, and he wasn’t surprised as he watched the ball fall into the sand on the opposite court, it’s angle so punishing there had been no chance for a defense.

The gathering crowd erupted in cheers, and Rowan turned to Remy in celebration, only to find her lips pursed.

“Nice block. I hope this means you’re going to actually listen to me next match.”

Too annoyed to respond to that, Rowan turned to shake hands with the opposing team before stalking past Remy to where his friends were lounging. Unsurprisingly, she was right on his heels, pushing the water bottle he’d about to take a sip from away and scowling at him.“I told you that you needed to be more aggressive on the block,” she said. “Would it honestly kill you to admit I’m right?” “Every block can’t be a roof, Rem! You need to be quicker at reading the coverage or we are going to lose in the finals.”

Remy crossed her arms.

“You’re just mad because you don’t have the stamina to keep jumping like that.”

“Don’t start with me about stamina,” Rowan said. “For someone who is hoping to get on the tour, you’re lagging on defense.”

Rowan was unsurprised when she reached back and slapped him in the face, though the blow had admittedly come fast enough that he hadn’t had time to avoid it.

“You’re an ass,” Remy snarled, tears in her eyes.

Once, that might have been enough to get him to soften his tone. After ten years of dealing with her gaslighting, he was now sure that they were manufactured.

“Do not do that again,” he said in a quiet voice. At this more tears welled, and she reached up to touch his face, her small palms resting on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to his lips. “I’m just--there’s a lot riding on this for me.”

“Our next match is in twenty minutes,” Rowan said, peeling her hands off of him. “Get some water and walk it off.”

She seemed put out at the dismissal, but she must have known she had little recourse to argue after slapping him, so she simply nodded and turned away, giving his friends a hateful look for good measure before stalking off. Fen watched her go with unveiled distaste before turning to Rowan and shaking his head.

“Dude, I know I’m gay, but I will never understand what you see in that girl. She straight sucks.”

Cash bubbled his lips in agreement.

“There’s nothing to see,” Lor said. “She’s a fucking nightmare.”

“Here, here,” Cash said, and Rowan rolled his eyes.“We’ve been playing together forever,” he protested. “And Remy knows we aren’t...seeing each other anymore.”

“Does she?” Lor drawled. “Just because you’re not banging her right now doesn’t mean she’s done with you, Whitethorn. Remelle St. James is not a girl you can just walk away from.”

“We’re twos partners, not soulmates,” Ro said. “And if playing with Remy means winning this tournament, I don’t really care what you jackasses think of it, or of her.”

“The sets cannot be worth it,” Lorcan drawled, sounding bored.

“She’s the best amateur female player in this tournament,” Rowan snapped back.

“Please,” Fen said. “She’s barely in the top five.”

“And who’s number one, then?”

Fen grinned, dark eyes fiendish.

“You haven’t heard? There’s a chick here from the University of Texas, and apparently she’s—”

“Holy shit,” Cash interrupted, eyes skating over Rowan’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Rowan turned in time to watch the hottest woman he’d ever seen saunter towards them. She was taller than average—easily exceeding six feet—and corded with a sleek musculature that would have heralded her as a volleyball player even if they weren’t at a tournament. Her gorgeously tanned legs went on for an eternity, and he felt his mouth go dry at seeing the minuscule bikini bottoms she wore, the burnt orange Lycra hugging a toned ass that told him she probably had a damn good vertical. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and braided in the popular style, and when she turned to smirk at him in a flash of pearly teeth and dazzling blue eyes, he felt a little weak.

“Goddamn,” Cash said, interrupting Rowan’s reverie. “She is fucking gorgeous.”

“That’s her,” Fen said. “From UT. Aelin Galathynius. Ro, I hope you and Remy can pull it together for this match. Otherwise this girl is gonna fuck you up.”

They all watched as she trotted onto the court, bending over in a stretch Rowan was afraid was going to make his board shorts too tight.

“God lord, she is perfect,” Cash said, tilting his head slightly to better admire her well-formed assets.Rowan felt a prickle of irritation at his friend's appraisal, but before he could address it, or—more realistically—dismiss it, Lor gave an unimpressed snort.

“She’s too tall.”

“I don’t understand how a guy pushing seven feet can have a maximum height restriction for the women he dates,” Fen said.

Lor only shrugged with a smirk, but Rowan was barely listening. He felt another twinge of displeasure zip down his spine as he watched a muscular blonde frat star stride onto the court towards the Galathynius girl, who beamed at seeing him.“That her boyfriend?” He asked, trying not to sound overly put-out by the idea.

“Cousin, I think,” Lor said, expression gloriously bored. “Aedion Ashryver. I played him in a tournament in Miami last year. He’s marginally above average.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Fen said, earning only an eye roll in response.They watched as Ashryver took several exploratory swings, Aelin working out her wrists as he did. Rowan admired her flawless form as she gave her cousin a tight set and he crushed the ball into a sand on a punishing downward trajectory.

“Nice hands,” Cash said, eyes alight with appreciation as she shot Aedion a quick set to a similarly successful result.

“I can block him,” Rowan said, trying to read Aedion’s form for flaws. “He’s swinging hard, but he’s hit that same spot every time.”

“That’s not going to be enough on its own,” Lor said dryly. “Your best bet is to force Galynthius to receive first then shut her down on the block. I bet her swing is weak.”

“That opinion is completely baseless,” Cash said. “You have no idea what her swing is like.”

“I know that cocky assholes are never as good as they are obnoxious,” Lorcan retorted, gesturing to the Galythinius girl again.She’d seemed to have taken note of their attention, hands on her hips as surveyed Rowan from head to toe. Something about the way she looked at him—her tongue tucked almost suggestively into her cheek—had pleasant goosebumps breaking out on his arms.

Given her brazen assessment, Rowan felt justified in studying her as well, trying to school his expression into that of a player sizing up an opponent for weaknesses. In reality, he was just admiring her.The sports bra she wore did nothing to minimize her gorgeously firm tits, and her stomach was an alluring tapestry of muscle, the smooth bronze skin unblemished save for the corner of a tattoo which peaked out from the top of her bikini bottoms. From it’s color and shape, Rowan thought it might be a flag, though he couldn’t see enough of it to tell which country. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined peeling the offending garment off her and getting a better look. Rowan tried to get his mind right as Aelin Galynthius gave him a smouldering grin and turned away, but he was still so caught up in her that he flinched when he felt Remy’s fingers trailing down his back.

“You ready, babe? Let’s do this.”Rowan definitely debated telling her not to call him that, but not wanting to reignite the tension when they were so close to winning he simply nodded and headed towards the court to warm up as well.

“Good luck, champ,” Fen said. “Make sure you find out if she’s single for Cash.”

Rowan flipped him off and jogged onto the court, trying to ignore the way Aelin Galynthius’s eyes raked him appreciatively as he passed her.

Still relatively loose from the previous match, Rowan sped through warm-ups, not wanting to give the Ashryvver cousins too much insight into his skill level. When they were done, the tournament organizer came over to congratulate the four of them on their place in the finals before briefly running through the rules.

“There will be a line judge to settle any disputes, but you’re mostly expected to police yourself. We’re all adults here, so I expect everyone to behave like it.”

At this the Ashryvver cousins exchanged a mirthful look that failed to go unnoticed by any of the assembled. Rowan could feel Remy bristling beside him. She only grew more rigid when Aelin let her dazzling blue eyes slide to Rowan and she winked.

“It’s best of five this match, first to twenty-five, win by two, cap at 30. Switch on hard sevens. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Aedion said, a bronzed grin stretching wide enough to reveal dimples in his cheeks. “When we win, am I going to get lei-ed?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, fighting down a searing stab of annoyance. Ethnically, his family may not have been kānaka maoli, but Rowan had lived in Hawaii his entire life, and the culture was important to him. Why wasn’t he surprised that this haole douchebag had just gone for the most tired pun in existence?

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told Ashryvver. “The losers don’t get shit.”

At this, Galathynius laughed, the sound low and musical.“I love a man who knows how to dream big.”

“Shall we?” The coordinator cut in, his gaze flitting between Aelin and Remy, who Rowan presumed was scowling.

They nodded and he flipped a coin, which Rowan called in the air.

“Heads.”The shaggy-haired coordinator extended his arm to show them the gleaming head of Sacagawea on the gold dollar coin.

“We’ll serve,” Rowan said, forcing himself to shake Aedion Ashryvver’s hand as he did.

Enough of this bullshit, he was ready to beat this punk into the dusk. He was also ready to put some distance between himself and Aelin Galathynius before her beauty robbed him of any good sense. Together or no, Remy would have his balls on the grill if he openly flirted with someone else in front of her, and it was a complication he couldn’t afford this close to victory.

It was easier said than done when Aelin slid her hand into his, squeezing in a way that felt oddly suggestive. However, it only lasted a second before she was turning on her heel and strutting to her side of the court.

“Good luck,” she said over her shoulder, brushing the long tail of her braid down her back. “You’re going to need it.”

Remy growled something that sounded suspiciously like “bitch” as she took her place behind the serving line. Rowan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod as he made his way towards the net, hand stretched behind him to give Remy the block signal.

Aelin Galathynius grinned at him through the net, blue eyes glittering before she slid on a pair of sunglasses.

“So,” she said as Remy continued to prepare. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

There was a pleasant cadence to her voice when she spoke, the trace of an accent he couldn’t quite place.

“Trying to get in my head?” he shot back, willing himself not to fall for her tantalizing games.

Aelin gave a sultry laugh.

“More like your pants.”

At this he heard the snap of the ball being served, and he swore as he watched it sail into the net. It wasn’t like Remy to make service errors, but the dirty look she gave him as he retreated to receive Aedion’s serve told him she considered it his fault.

“Are you done flirting,” she hissed as he passed her. “Can we focus on winning now?”

Rowan longed to snap back a retort that he hadn’t been flirting and she was the one who seemed to be lacking focus, but by this time Aedion was behind the line, preparing to serve. Rowan watched the toss and adjusted his position the minute Aedion made contact, easily receiving the ball. He called for a hit outside, but Remy’s set drew him into the interior of the court instead, almost as if she were trying to pull him away from Aelin.

Adjusting his position, Rowan swung. It was Aelin who received the dig and Rowan quickly retreated along the net, ready to stuff her on the block. He was in the perfect position to cut off the diagonal hitting lane, leaving her to either tap it over—an easy receive for him—or shoot line. Rowan thought of what Lorcan had said about her weak swing as she approached, and part of him hoped she would attempt a cross so he could show her how it was done.

He crouched, muscles burning in anticipation to spring up and stuff the ball right back in Aelin Galathynius’s smug face.

Except, he didn’t.

Aelin exploded into the air as the ball reached her, her vertical impreeven given her height. In a flick of her wrist, she’d tattooed the ball right down the undefended right line. Remy made a dive for it, but Rowan could tell from the minute Aelin had hit it that it was a point.

It was—she was—

Rowan shook his head, slightly dazed. Whatever skill Rowan had expected from her, she’d just blown right past it. She was phenomenal.And what was more, she knew it. When Rowan had finally gathered his wits enough to glance at her, it was to find her grinning back.

“Welcome to the majors, Big Boy,” she purred, and Rowan couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or throttle her as he retreated back to his receive position.

Ashryvvers: 1 Remy & Ro: 0.

Rowan’s warring aggravation and admiration raged on all through the first set, which he and Remy lost...badly.He tried to ignore his friends’ jeers as he retreated to hydrate before the second set began, trying to analyze Aelin’s game for flaws.The problem was, there were none, at least that he could see.

“So what’s she like?” Fen asked as Rowan took another sip of gatorade. “Seems like you two were really hitting it off out there.”

“Annoying,” Ro replied. “She’s got Remy all riled up.”

Remy had refused to speak to Rowan after the set, and she was currently standing alone in the middle of the court, glaring daggers at the Ashyrvver cousins.

“Like I said,” Lor said in a dry voice. “That she-demon has plans for you. She doesn’t like that Galathynius is moving in on what she sees as her turf.”

“What are you even talking about ‘turf’?”

“I think he means your dick, man,” Cash added, grinning when Rowan turned to glower.

“I do,” Lor said.

“I’m not sleeping with either of them,” Rowan said, trying to reassure himself.

“Sure you aren’t,” Fen said, shooting Lorcan and Cash a conspiratorial wink. “Do you mind if I quote you on that in my best man’s speech? Aelin seems like a girl who appreciates irony.”

“You aren’t going to be his best man,” Cash said. “Obviously it’s going to be me.”

“Ro can’t choose a best man who's already slobbered over his bride,” Lor pointed out. “So it has to be me.”

“It will be none of you,” Rowan said. “Because I would never marry a girl like that.”

Cash gave a bemused laugh.“Like what, gorgeous?”

“Athletic?” Fen added.

“Sharp-tongued?”

“Talented?”

Rowan growled.

“Remind me why I bother with any of you,” he said, tossing his empty bottle to Cash before jogging on the court.

One good thing about his friends’ teasing: it had fired him up. Even with Remy obviously still mad at him, he dominated in the second set, and the third. Between both Ashryvvers’ ability to jump and play defense, he never managed a clean kill—the kind he normally wracked up by the dozens against other, lesser opponents. Still, it was enough.

Unfortunately, Aelin continued to make comments and give him sly looks even as the score turned against her, and Rowan could feel it wearing on Remy. By the fourth set, Remy was visibly flustered, the sizable lead Rowan had given them late in the game shrinking as Remy continued to make useless mistakes.Rowan fought not the swear on game point as Remy went against Aelin on the block and was smoked.

“Lucky shot,” Remy said as she was forced to shake Aelin’s hand to signal the end of the set. Aelin flashed Remy a taunting smirk that Rowan could tell meant trouble, and he debated the merits of interfering just as Aelin said, “There was nothing lucky about that, and we both know it. Please don’t embarrass yourself.”

“You think you’re better than me?” Remy demanded.

Aelin only laughed.

“No,” she said.

Rowan may have relaxed at hearing that, but before he could Aelin added, “I know I’m better than you.”

Remy turned, lip curling up.

“Not what the scoresheet says.”

Aelin pushed the sport sunglasses she was wearing on top of her head, presumably so Remy could see her roll those sparkling azure eyes, ringed at the iris with pure gold.

“I think we all know why the score looks like it does,” Aelin shot back, pausing to give Rowan a bone-melting smile.

Honestly, there was so much sexual charisma in it that he had to actively fight his body’s natural reaction. His brain might not have been a fan of Aelin Galathynius, but his cock sure was.

Remy jammed her hands onto her hips, the rage in her eyes cold enough to burn as she stared Aelin down. Rowan, she ignored.

“I don’t need him,” she snapped.

Aelin smirk went slightly wicked.

“Good, then you won’t mind when I take him home later and give him the ride of his life. After my cousin and I bury you in this match and win the tournament, that is.”

Aelin flashed her pearly teeth in a razored smile, letting it rake over Remy before falling on Rowan. He should have been insulted by her objectification, but in reality it just turned up the tension that had been simmering between them since the match had begun.

Remy’s answering laugh was cold, and Rowan braced for impact. Despite her bravura, he doubted the Galathynius girl understood what she was starting. Remy could be downright cruel when provoked, and the gleam in her eye told him she was preparing to go from the jugular.

“As if he’d be interested in a flat-chest, loud-mouthed cunt like you.”

At this Aedion growled, the first serious emotion Rowan had seen him display all day.

“Hey,” he snapped. “Watch your mouth.”

“That’s enough, Rem,” Rowan cut in. “We didn’t come here to talk trash.”

Remy turned, sneering.

“She started it.”

“That can’t honestly be the retort you’re going with,” Aelin said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I expected better from you, short stack.”

At 5’9, Remy was above-average height for a woman, but compared to Aelin’s towering frame she looked positively impish, a fact Rowan knew probably filled her with rage. She wasn’t used to being looked down on the court, either physically or metaphorically.

Rowan caught her around the waist a second before she lunged, causing Aelin to laugh.

“You’re a bitch,” Remy snapped.

“I’ve been called worse by better,” Aelin said, tossing the ball to Remy with no small amount of force. “Better luck next time.”

Remy let out a small grunt as the ball knocked some of the wind out of her, but she seemed determined not to give Aelin any more than that. Tossing the ball to the ground, she made a show of storming off.

At this Aelin turned to her cousin, cocking her head back in Remy’s direction.

“Voy a destruirla.”

Aedion laughed and gave a longer response in the same language, and Rowan found his eyes trailing down to Aelin’s tattoo again. At this close distance he could clearly see the white star set into a red triangle, inverted by the position of the tattoo.

The Cuban flag.

Good god, and he thought she’d been distracting before. Knowing that she spoke Spanish…

When he glanced up it was to find Aelin grinning.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, running the column of her braid through her fist in a way that had him inevitably imagining her wrapping her hands around something else. “They don’t make gringas this gorgeous.”

“Is this your strategy?” Rowan shot back, desperate to find his footing with her. “Work my partner into a frenzy so we’ll lose?”

Aelin laughed, though her gaze had chilled somewhat.

“I don’t need tricks to beat you, handsome. I think I’ve already proven that.”

“At yet that match is still all tied up, two sets a piece.”Aelin and Aedion exchanged a dangerous smile.

“Maybe I just wanted to prolong the match so I could spend more time with you,” she said. “Clearly I shouldn’t have bothered. Try not to be too embarrassed by what comes next, mi amor. It’s going to get ugly.”

“I can handle it,” Rowan shot back before adding, “And you.”

Far from seeming unnerved, Aelin preened a bit at that, clearly pleased by the challenge.

“Prove it, big boy,” she said, hands on her hips as she squared up to him.

He took a step in her direction, standing toe-to-toe with her now even with the net still between them. She may have been tall for a female, but at 6’6 he still had to tilt his chin down slightly to meet her eye.

“I intend to,” he said. “Repeatedly.”

She bit her lip at this, the first blush he’d seen burnishing her beautiful bronze skin.

“Basta, Aelin,” Aedion called, cocking his head. “Dale.”

“Good luck, Hulk Smash,” Aelin told Rowan, turning on her heel towards her cousin.

Rowan couldn't’ find the good sense to move his feet as she sauntered off to join her cousin, the two of them bantering back and forth in rapid Spanish. Cash was going to die when he found out Aelin was Cuban.

Half-Brazilian himself Cash worshipped Latin women, and for the most part, they—like most women—worshipped him right back.

Ro tried not to let the idea of Cash and Aelin hitting it off bother him as he continued to watch the Ashryvver cousins. Perhaps Aelin would be immune to Cash’s easy charm, though Rowan had to admit it was unlikely. Unlike Rowan, who often came off dour despite his best efforts, Cash was engaging and almost impossible to dislike. More likely than not, Aelin Galathynius would take one look at that million-watt smile and enviable head of dark hair and forget she’d even met Rowan.

The thought was surprisingly irritating, and Ro forced himself to put it aside as the line judge called for the final match to begin. He glanced around in time to see Remy striding back onto the court, her expression more neutral than when she’d stormed off.

“Ready?” he asked simply.Her eyes blazed with a determination she’d lacked since the Ashryvver cousins had gotten in her head.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s end this.”

Something in her bearing had changed, and Ro felt adrenaline surging through him.

This was the player who’d dominated in the matches leading up to this one; this was the teammate who was going to help him shut the Ashryvver’s down once and for all.

They lost the initial coin flip and the Ashryvvers elected to serve, Aelin blowing him a kiss as she stepped behind the line. Rowan ignored her.He had bigger fish to fry.

She had a punishing jump serve that stung Ro’s arms as he received, but he still managed a decent pass, and the set Remy gave him was damn near perfect. Aedion and Aelin shifted as the former dropped back for coverage and the latter prepared for the block. She’d yet to stuff Rowan, but he couldn’t deny she had hops enough to cause him real problems if he wasn’t careful.Still, the set had drawn Aelin farther into the court than he could tell she liked, leaving the line undefended. Rowan intentionally approached at an angle as if he meant to swing cross before changing his body position last minute and aiming line.

Aelin jumped, but her effort was futile. Her left hand just missed the ball, which sailed down the line and struck deep.Rowan’s first kill of the entire match.He couldn’t help a glance down at Aelin as he smiled.

“Welcome to the big leagues, Galathynius.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, but she offered no retort as she retreated to Aedion, switching to Spanish presumably to discuss strategy.

With Remy more in the game, she and Ro got out to an early lead, a fact that he could tell filled Aelin with fiery displeasure. As hard as he was swinging, Rowan had finally figured out Aedion’s swing, and though Aelin tried to move him around the court with her sets to avoid Rowan’s block, they were finding only middling success.

Rowan didn’t permit himself to think too much about it as they steadily racked up points, but when he looked up to find the score was 24 - 18, his pulse sped up.

It was match point.

One more point, he told himself. One more point and he and Remy would have won the whole damn thing. It was so close he could almost taste it.Still, as he watched Aelin take note of the same thing, her blue eyes flashing, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. Aedion finally managed a kill the next point, and when Aelin stepped back to serve, everything in her posture signaled danger ahead.

Rowan watched the ball spin as she tossed it in the air, timing her jump to perfection. Remy adjusted to defend the line, but the ball unexpectedly hit the top of the net instead, the force of the blow pushing the ball over onto their court. Remy dove for it but it was no use; it was in the sand even before he hit the ground.

24 - 20.

Aelin gave a self-satisfied smirk as Remy tossed the ball back to her.

“Dare you to do that again,” she snapped, and Aelin’s smile only widened.

Tossing the ball, she did just that. The ball hit the tape and fell in the same spot, proving it wasn’t a lucky shot. She’d clearly practiced utilizing the net, and now it had cost them back-to-back aces.

24 - 21.

Remy gave a small scream of frustration as she went down hard for a second time, brushing sand out of her hair and off her face as she glared at a preening Aelin. She readjusted closer to the net lest Aelin try the tricks third time, her body poised to spring. Except Aelin didn’t try it a third time. She aimed for the back corner instead, tattooing the ball into the space Remy had just abandoned.

“Goddamnit!” Remy snarled, storming towards Rowan. “Switch me.”

24 - 22.

Repositioning again, Rowan was blessedly able to receive her fourth serve, Remy’s set putting him tight on the net. He’d expected Aedion to cover him but in a flash Aelin was there instead, exploding upwards just as he made contact.He heard the snap of the ball against skin, and only had time to cast a hand out blindly as the ball came back onto his side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough for Remy to get to.

Aelin beamed as Rowan turned to gawk at her. It was rare at his height and speed that he got stuffed on the block. Even Aedion, who was close to his height, hadn’t managed it.

24 - 23.

“I told you it was going to get ugly,” Aelin purred. “I don’t make idle promises.”

“You’re still behind,” Rowan said, but Aelin only smiled.

“But we have the momentum,” she said. “And chiquita looks like she’s running scared.”

A glance at Remy told Rowan Aelin was right; she looked flustered, and when she caught Rowan looking at her she scowled.

“Let’s just finish this,” she said. “Sideout. No quarter.”

If they scored now, they’d win the match. But if Aelin and Aedion got more up on them, it would force at least two more points as they had to win by two.

Aelin only chuckled at this, heading back to the serving line for a fifth time. She served a floater this time, the lack of spin on the ball sending it sailing over the net at an unpredictable angle. Remy received, and after Rowan put her slightly too close to the net, Aedion stuffed the ball back in her face.

24 - 24.

The next point Aelin won on a deep roll shot to the right corner, and suddenly it was match point in the opposite direction.

24 - 25, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Thankfully this time, Rowan and Remy were ready. Rowan went head to head with Aedion on the block and won, earning only his third kill of the entire match.

25 - 25.

The next point was a service error from Remy after she attempted to tickle the tape the same way Aelin had, resulting in another scream of frustration.

25 - 26, match point for the Ashryvvers again.

Rowan gave Remy a set off the net and she managed to catch Aelin off-balance for a rare shank from the blonde.

26 - 26.

Aedion shot Aelin a quick set to the middle and she had the ball in the sand before Rowan could even react.

26 - 27, match point for the Ashryvvers.Service error from Aedion after a bad toss for his jump serve.

27- 27.

Rowan wiped sweat from his eyes as he tried not to dwell on the score. With a cap at 30, there were only a possibility of four more points either way. He let out a steadying breath as he stepped up to serve. Aiming deep, he caught Aedion in an awkward position that resulted in an unredeemable pass.

28 - 27, match point for Rowan and Remy.

One more, Ro told himself. One more just like that and they would have won.He aimed for the same spot only to realize that Aedion and Aelin had switched positions, and where Aedion was powerful but cumbersome in the sand, Aelin was lightning fast. She managed the receive Aedion couldn’t, and when Aedion set her tight, she crushed the ball cross-court, right into the corner.

Remy threw up her hands, beaming.

“Out!” she said. “It’s out. That’s the match! Ro, we won!”

However, Rowan could tell in her bearing something was off, and he let his eyes flit to the line judge to investigate. The man came over just as Remy made a move to casually swipe at the sand with her toe, and he gestured to the imprint of a ball still visible in the sand.

“In,” he said, giving Remy a warning look as the Ashryvvers murmured to one another. “Point to the Ashryvvers.”

28 - 28.

Rowan tried not to tense at the realization Remy had been willing to cheat. It set his teeth on edge, and served as a reminder why he normally kept his distance from her. It was a rule he’d have to remember after today.

Aelin stepped up to serve with an unkind smile twisting at her full mouth, and tattooed the same deep corner she’d just hit. The line judge--not waiting for Remy’s assessment this time, ruled it in.

28 - 29, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Unfortunately, Aelin miscalculated as she attempted to hit the same spot with her next serve, and this time it was ruled out.

29 - 29, the final match point.

Whoever won the next point would win the set and the match. One point to decide who would be the tournaments champs and who would be the losers.

Rowan’s could see the same thought in Aelin’s eyes as the both approached the net, Rowan’s hand stretched behind his back to signal his block to Remy.

“So,” Aelin said as Remy went through her pre-serve ritual. “Where are you taking me to celebrate after?”

Rowan flashed her a feral grin.

“Didn’t take you for a girl who celebrates her losses.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But buy me a few congratulatory drinks when I win and maybe I’ll show you what type of girl I really am.

”Rowan heard the short whistle to signal Remy was asking for a re-toss on her serve, and he focused his attention back on Aelin momentarily.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

She bit her lip, eyes falling unmistakably to his cock. Her gaze was like a fist around his dick, and he had to fight back a groan.

“You know exactly what it means,” she said.

At that moment Remy served the ball, saving Rowan from his pitiful lack of retort. He forced himself to refocus as Aedion received, trying to forget the offer of casual sex Aelin had just thrown onto the table. Or perhaps she was just teasing him, trying to get under his skin so he’d forget what he was doing.Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t so easily rattled. Tracking Aedion as he received the ball and swung, Rowan forced him cross on the block. Remy returned with no issue, and Rowan’s muscles coiled in anticipation as Aelin dug the ball. Aedion set was right where Rowan now knew Aelin preferred it.

She swung hard but met his block, and just when Rowan started to think he’d won the point, she threw out a hand on blind instinct, sending the ball back up into the air on her side of the court. Instantly Aedion was there to feed her a quick set, and Aelin swung again just as hard.

Again Rowan jumped and managed to block her, and again she recovered.

Breathing hard, she approached a third time, exploding upwards at the same time Rowan did. This time, however, she pivoted mid-air, managing to avoid his outstretched hands and send the ball careening down.

Everything seemed to slow as Rowan turned to watch Remy dive for the ball, but it was too late; it had already hit the sand.

That was it; game, set, match.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the line judge made the official designation, and Aelin beamed.

“Nice game,” Rowan told her, stretching his hand out to her. “I thought I had you.”

Her smile only widened, eyes glittering as she tugged off her glasses and slid her palm into his to shake.

“Play your cards right and you still might.”

Rowan opened his mouth--though to say what, he wasn’t sure. Before he could formulate a response, he felt the brush of a hand down his back as Remy appeared at his side.

“Congratulations,” she said coolly, her arm slithering around Rowan’s waist now even as he subtly tried to peel her off. Undeterred, Remy tightened her grip as her eyes flitted to Aelin’s tattoo.

“Not bad for a pair of--”

“I would think very carefully before you finish that sentence,” Aelin warned in a soft, dangerous tone. “And take your hands off him; he’s clearly not interested.”

Remy scowled.

“That is none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you started manhandling him in front of me. He’s too polite to embarrass you, but I’m not. Keep your hands to yourself.”

At this Remy loosened her grip a bit, even as she turned to glare up at Rowan.

“Are you serious going to let her speak to me like that?” she demanded.

“She’s not wrong,” Rowan said, wishing they could do this without an audience. “We’ve talked about this before.”

Remy only gave a cold laugh.

“Oh I see. Some slut offers to suck your dick and suddenly you have no loyalty. You’re a pig, Rowan.”

“Don’t call her a slut,” Rowan said, losing patience. “And stop acting like this is anything new between us.”

At this Aelin huffed a laugh, and Remy snarled.

“You are a miserable bitch, and you fucking deserve each other.”

At this she stormed off, and Aelin turned her bronzed grin on Rowan.

“She’s lovely,” she said. “You make a charming couple.”

“We’re not together,” he said uselessly.Their exchange just now had already made that clear.

“I know,” Aelin said, waggling her eyebrows as she gave him another suggestive up-down. “Lucky me.”

Rowan debated for half a second if he actually wanted to take this girl up on her tantalizing offer, even knowing it could never be anything more. After this weekend he would go back to Los Angeles to continue studying for the detective’s exam and she, presumably, would return to school in Texas. It wasn’t just the distance, either. Something about the idea of a one-night stand with her left him feeling a bit hollow. He’d gone through a ‘casual sex’ phase in the dreary months and years after losing Lyria, and now mindless hook-ups--even with a girl as hot as Aelin--had lost their luster. Besides, Aelin seemed like a girl who deserved better.

On the other hand, Rowan was only human, and goddamn him, there was a part of him which very much wanted to accept. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined stripping off Aelin’s bikini and teasing her until she begged for his cock. As dominant as she was on the court, something wicked told him she would be submissive in bed.

However, before he could make a decision either way Aedion appeared, flashing Rowan a cocky grin as they shook hands before throwing Aelin over his shoulder and jogging towards a throng which had gathered at the center of the court. They were young--mostly likely still college students like Aelin--all of them dressed in various articles of burnt orange clothing, chanting “Ashryvver” at the top of their lungs.

Rowan could help himself as he tracked Aelin through the adoring crowd, beaming as the tournament administrator fought his way through the mass to place a beautiful fresh lei of white orchids around her neck. As when the man handed both Aelin and Aedion a crystal vase—serving in the place of a trophy, their throng of admirers burst into even louder cheers as the opening bars of All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled blared over the speakers. Rowan fended off a sensation dangerously similar to disappointment as Aelin scrambled up to sit on the shoulders of a sickeningly-handsome man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. Rowan watched as she strung a hand under the stranger’s chin to grin down at him, his smile similarly enraptured as they traded a laughed.

Rowan forced his shoulders to drop from their rigid position. Perhaps she had just been teasing all that time. After all, she didn’t seem to remember Rowan even existed as she swayed to the music, fingers casually strung through the strangers hair to keep herself steady.

Forcing himself to look away, Rowan retreated back to where his friends waited. It was fine, he told himself. He came here to play, not get his dick wet, and he’d done that, and done it well. Now was the time for celebrating being back with his favorite people, not sulking over some girl he barely knew.

“Great game, man,” Fen said as Ro approached,accepting the Gatorade in his friend’s outstretched hand. “That was a tough break at the end.”

“No shame in that match, Ro. That girl is just unstoppable,” Cash added.

“And one good thing about you losing: I think you shook Remy for good,” Lor said. “She stormed over her to spew a bunch of bullshit about how much she hated all of us before she stormed off. Don’t think we will be seeing her again any time soon.”

“Oh amen to that, brother,” Fen said. “That’s worth losing a match any day.”

“I can’t say I was sorry to see her go,” Rowan admitted. “You were right; she had ulterior motives.”

Lorcan pretended to examine his nails in feigned indifference.

“I, for one, am shocked.”

“Speaking of ulterior motives...” Cash said, eyes trailing to where the Ashryvvers were still celebrating, Aelin perched on the mystery man’s shoulders. “Talk to me about Galathynius.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, debating the merits of making up a lie before relenting and saying simply, “she’s Cuban.”

“Oh fuck,” Fen said. “You’re in trouble now, Kahukore.”

“I knew it,” Cash said, grin wolfish. “She’s perfect.”

“Cousin’s pretty hot, too,” Fen observed, eyes tracking Aedion as he posed for photos for the tournament website. “What have you got on him?”

“He’s a douchebag,” Rowan said. “The first thing out of his mouth before the match started was a joke about getting lei-ed.”

Fen only laughed, teeth bright against his brown skin.

“Lighten up, man. If I dismiss every haole guy who makes that joke, there won’t be any dick left!”

“There’s an obvious solution here,” Lor said, cuffing Fenrys affectionately by the back of his neck. “Stop chasing after white boys.”

“No promises,” Fen said, grinning. “Let’s go get drunk.”

“Can I shower first?” Ro asked, pushing his silver hair out of his eyes. “I feel like a vagrant.”

“And you smell like one, too,” Cash said. “You’re a jackass,” Rowan said, though he couldn’t help laughing as he strung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You owe me fifty bucks, by the way,” Cash called to Lor.

Lorcan rolled his eyes.

“You said she was Puerto Rican,” Lor said. “She’s Cuban, so I don’t owe you shit.”

“At least a drink, then. Fen thought she was Swedish!

“We don’t know!” Fen said, laughing. “One of her parents could still be Swedish. We’ll have Ro ask her later. Double or nothing, Kahukore?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and he fought not to scowl outright. A quick glance back at the court told him that though Aelin had finally alighted from the brunette’s shoulders, they were now kicking sand at each other like children. He wondered how long it would take him to get her bright, infectious laughter out of his head.

“If you want to know, you better ask her now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Cash said. “You didn’t get her number? What is wrong with you?”

“She’s not my type.”

“What does that even mean, ‘type’?” Fen said. “I don’t like even women and she’s still my type. Don’t turn into Lor unless you’re cool with dying alone.”

Having no reasonable response to this, Rowan just rolled his eyes.

“Rude,” Lor said, not actually sounding bothered by the comment.

“Let’s just go already,” Rowan said.The sooner he got drunk, the sooner he could forget about Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius and all the promises he’d seen in her dazzling eyes.

“Last chance,” Cash warned. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask for her number? If nothing else, she looks like she’d be willing to give you the ride of your life.”

Rowan had to admit he was tempted, especially as he remembered Aelin promising him the same thing. Still, when he watch the same dark-haired guy string an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple, his mind was made up.

Jerking his head towards the parking lot, he permitted himself one final glance in Aelin’s direction before he turning his back to her for good.

Several hours hours later, Rowan found himself sitting on the beach with a beer in hand, watching the sun set over the glittering azure water. Oahu wasn’t quite home— not in the same way that Maui was—but Rowan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the islands until that moment. It was the familiar sound of the surf and the balmy air, much cleaner here than in LA.

More than that, though, it was being here with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time all four of them had been together, and he didn’t want to think about how long it might be before it happened again. He just wanted to enjoy the evening and...forget for a while

.“What are you thinking about?” Cash asked from beside him. “You look a million miles away.”

Not wanting the dampen the evening’s light mood, Rowan took a swig of beer and said, “

Just wondering if I should take out a bigger insurance policy on my motorcycle. Remy knows where I live, and part of me is afraid she’s already en-route to the mainland to destroy all my shit.”

At this, Lor laughed.

“Listen, you’re not wrong.”

“Just please tell me we are done with her,” Cash said. “I don’t think I have any more fake nice left in me after this weekend.”

“We’re done with her,” Rowan confirmed. “Also, she is never going to make the tour.”

“I don’t think AVP was very even on the table,” Fen said. “She just made that shit up to get your attention.”

“It might have worked, too, if Galathynius hadn’t stepped in,” Cash said, holding up his beer.

“At the very least, we’d be stuck entertaining her all weekend while she tried to slither in your pants,” Lor told Rowan. “For that, at least, I’m grateful to Galaythius.”

“Now, she will make the tour,” Cash said.

“Future Olympian, no doubt,” Fen agreed. “And Ro missed his chance to be right there with her. Instead he’ll be watching her win gold on tv and jacking off into a pool of his tears.”

“Are you done?” Rowan said, lobbing his empty can at Fen.

“No,” Fen said. “I have enough material to last us the night, at least.”

Rowan rolled his eyes as they all labored to their feet and headed towards a rowdy pub farther down the beach. No one had to ask where they were headed; drinks at the Hideaway had always been their tradition when they came to Waikiki.

Despite the early hour, the bar was already bumping by the time they arrived, and as soon as they walked in and surveyed the scene, Cash burst out laughing. Lor, who’d followed his friend’s gaze, gave a good-natured groan.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

There, sitting on top the bar, was Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius, her usual coterie fawning around her as she tipped her head back to drain a shot of tequila. She’d traded her bikini for a pair of cut-off over-alls worn over a distractingly lacy bralette, her long blonde hair falling to her waist in two French braids.

She still wore her lei from earlier, the white standing out brilliantly against her burnished skin.

Everyone she was with cheered as she held the glass aloft, and before Ro could think to make a quick exit and save himself the awkwardness of having to face her. Aelin’s mouth stretched into a sensuous grin as she surveyed his blue button-down and slim-fitting chinos.

“So we all agree now, right?” Cash said, giving Rowan a gentle shove. “Ro has to go over there and talk to her.”

Rowan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as he watched Aelin lean over to whisper to the same dark-haired guy she’d been with earlier.

“Definitely,” Fen said. “It’s fate.”

“No,” Rowan said, turning towards the bar in an attempt to block Aelin out. “And I think she has a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Only one way to find out,” Cash said, grinning as he slid past Rowan. “Wish me luck, boys.”

Rowan had to actively fight a scowl.

“You’re seriously going over there?”

“Listen, brother: if you’re really not going to take your shot, then I am.”

He gave Rowan a challenging look as if daring him to call his bluff, but Rowan only shrugged.

“Go for it, man.”

Rowan told himself not to look, but curiosity got the best of him as Cash approached. Aelin watched him do so with keen interest, eyes glittering as she slid from the bar to her feet. Rowan was too far away to hear Cash’s opening line, but whatever it was, Aelin tipped her head back and laughed, her hand inadvertently falling to his arm as she did so.

“I need a fucking drink,” Rowan muttered, flagging to the bartender and gesturing for three shots of whiskey.

Draining his, he glanced over again. Cash’s head was bent slightly as he spoke in Aelin’s ear, her smile dazzling as she listened.

Lorcan reached for his own shot, but Ro grabbed it before he could, throwing in back in a single movement before taking Fen’s as well.

“Damn boy, you’ve got it bad,” Fen observed.

“Cash better take her somewhere else to fuck,” Lor added, frowning. “She strikes me as a screamer, and I forgot my earplugs.”

“You both suck,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to look at Cash and Aelin for a third time. He already felt pathetic; he didn’t need to look it, too.

However, after a beat he couldn’t help himself, and he glanced up just in time to see Cash brush a kiss on Aelin’s cheek before retreating back towards them.

When Aelin caught Rowan looking she crooked a finger towards him in an obvious “come hither” gesture, and Rowan felt his stomach flop pleasantly. Cash grinned as he reached their group again, jerking his head in Aelin’s direction as she crossed her legs in an expectant gesture.

“What did you do?” Rowan demanded.

“Greased the wheels for you,” Cash said, smiling. “Go get her, champ.”

At this he turned to Fen, smile widening.“And the cousin’s bi, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Good work,” Fen said, clapping Cash on the back before turning to frown at Rowan. “What are you even still doing here? Go already, before she comes to her senses and chooses someone else!”

Flipping him a casual middle finger, Rowan smoothed back his silver hair and headed towards her, trying to seem more suave than he honestly felt. Jesus, he hadn’t been this tied in knots by a girl since he’d met Lyria as a first-year cadet. Normally the idea would pain him, but in that moment he had the oddest sensation of her standing beside him, smiling as if to say, “make me proud.”

Aelin smirked and uncoiled to her feet as he approached, grin widening as he said, “You stalking me?”

She gave a lover’s laugh, low and sensuous.

“Oh, you know how the songs goes: The Eyes of Texas are upon you, do not think you can escape them.”

He couldn’t fight his smile at this.

“I should have known,” he said.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” she said. “But you owe me. Why don’t we start with...your name? I’m Aelin, as I’m sure you already know.”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of agreeing, he simply said,

“Rowan.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to kiss your friend just to get your attention.”

“He would have loved that.”

Aelin laughed.

“He’s charming, but too pretty for me; I have a rule of not dating guys who have better hair than I do.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Rowan said. “It will go to his head.”

“Quite literally,” she said. “Let me introduce you around,” she said as Aedion approached.“My cousin, I think you know.”

Aedion only grinned, holding up the lei of purple orchids around his neck. “Told you I would.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she ran a hand down the back of the dark-haired man she’s been with earlier, seeking his attention. When he turned, she gestured to Rowan.

“Galen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my other cousin, Galen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Galen said, his accent thicker than either Aelin or Aedion’s.

Her cousin.

It seemed so obvious now. Though his hair and skin were darker than hers, he had her same brilliant eyes, as did Aedion. Rowan was never going to hear the end of it from his friends.

Galen gave Rowan a quick up-down before firing off in rapid, staccato Spanish, the words so fast Rowan couldn’t even pick out a single one.

Aelin only gave her cousin a good-natured eyeroll before pushing on his chest.

“Vete,” she said. “no me molestes.”

“Let me guess,” Rowan said. “He threatened to string me up if I even so much as blink wrong?

”Aelin gave a look of theatrical mock surprise.

“No way, you speak Spanish?”

“Tell him I come in peace,” Rowan said.

“He knows I can fight my own battles,” Aelin replied with a strug. “He and Aedion just like to prove their usefulness. Where were we?”

“I think you were introducing me to your court,” Rowan said, gesturing as the legion of people surrounding Aelin.

“Everyone else can wait,” Aelin said, gesturing to the bartender for drinks. “I don’t feel like sharing you quite yet.”

When two tequila shots and two beers appeared on the bar, Rowan threw down a fifty before Aelin could put it on her tab.

“Trying to butter me up?” She asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

“Do I need to?” He replied, accepting the shot from her.

She only smirked, grabbing his fist and running her tongue down the back of his hand before covering it with salt. He had to fend off a pleasant shudder. The gesture had shot straight to his cock.

“We’ll see,” she said, offering him a lime now, too. “Ready?”

He lifted his glass to her, but before he could lick the salt, she grabbed his wrist.

“You can’t drink without a toast, are you insane?”

“I don’t have one.”

She rolled her eyes before coaching his arm up above his head.

“Arriba,” she said before gently guiding his hand down. “Abajo. Al centro,” she prompted him to clink his glass to hers in the center. “Por dentro.”

With that she licked the salt off her hand before throwing the shot back easily and sucking on the lime. Rowan decided not to read into the suggestive look she gave him as she did so.

When they’d finished, Aelin grabbed his hand, gesturing for him to pick up his beer before she pulled him away from the bar.

“Where are we going?” He asked, hazarding a glance back at his friends to see them all watching him with knowing smirks.

“Somewhere quieter,” Aelin said, leading him up a set of rickety stairs that lead to an upper lounge.

The low couches were open to the air and overlooked the beach, and considering how things with Aelin had begun this afternoon, it felt…dangerously romantic.

You can’t fall for this girl, he reminded himself.

She didn’t live here, and neither did he. He was busy studying for the detective exam, and she was still in college, for Christ’s sake. Whatever he did, he couldn’t catch feelings for her.

However, it was an idea that felt easier said than done as Aelin yanked him down beside her on a couch, her head propped on a fist as she studied him with those mesmerizing blue eyes. She was so beautiful it was almost hard to breathe.

“So,” she said. “Start at the beginning.”

He laughed.

“The beginning of what?”

She grinned, her lips the most kissable shade of pink.

“Everything. I want to know it all.”

IF YOU LIKED THIS AND WANT MORE, CHECK OUT PART TWO, OUT NOW! 🏐 🍺 ♥️

TAG LIST: @tswaney17 @katexrenee @mightymorphingayagenda @nalgenewhore @superspiritfestival @mis-lil-red @pilesofriles @whitewashedasiangirl @http-itsrebecca @starkovsnesta @thebitchupstairs @sometimesimthatbitch @islareds @faerie-queen-fireheart @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @enpointe10 @justgiu12 @thesurielships @awesomelena555 @alyx801 @carbconnoisseur @ladywitchling @keshavomit @stardelia @thewayshedreamed @annedub @cityofchelsea16 @spyofthenightcourt

#tog modern au #tog x acotar #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #In Vino Veritas Prequel #featherywrites

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karliesbuzzcut · 4 years ago

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(100) Million Dollar Lawsuit

Intro | part1 | part2 | part3 | part4

We are on the last chapter (for now) and this the most chaotic one. Mainly because it doesn’t follow any kind of chronological order (or logical sense), it’s just Russ going in circles for literal years.

But I’ll try my best to condense it for you, so all you need to do is to keep your seat belt fastened until the aircraft stops completely.

Right after the failed Ari lawsuit, Russ goes back to his one and only love: Taylor Swift 💫 And he has learned a lesson — not a good lesson, mind you, but a lesson: small claims courts won’t take him anywhere. If he really wants to punish women for not complimenting his suit, he will have to file a multi-million dollar federal lawsuit.

But, since denying sex from The Russell isn’t illegal (yet), he had to come at it from a different angle. I’m going to give Russ a chance to explain himself first.

Before you ask: yes, the following was Russell’s response to a woman thanking Taylor for visiting an 8 year-old girl who was very badly burned in an accident.

As I’ve always said, it’s okay if you aren’t fluent in Bullshit. That’s what I’m here for.

You see, Russell views human interactions as a series of transactions: I make a tweet worth liking, you go on a date with me; I take you to Olive Garden, you give me a handie for free; I put on a suit, you hug me and smile; I write you a song and sue you, you produce said song. Whenever women don’t fulfil their side of the deal, he becomes enraged.

But the reason he has such a strong hate-boner for Tay, is because she seemed to also follow his same ‘moral code’. A kid makes a cute video, she visits them at the hospital. A fan writes her a letter inviting her to their wedding, she goes to the wedding. A couple of kids fold 1989 paper cranes for Andrea, Taylor invites them to one of her concerts.

Russ thought “this is a done deal”. He didn’t write that song for Taylor because he particular liked her; he just thought she’d be the most likely artist to produce it — or at least acknowledge his existence.

I mentioned before that Russ wrote a whole-ass book about this. And I think it’s as good a time as any to talk about it. For a short amount of time, Russell chilled out about the ✨100 million dollar lawsuit ✨ but my guess is that he thought his book would get him the same results as a lawsuit? To be fair, the book is fantastic. 5/5, would recommend.

He details the harassment he went through after suing Taylor Swift (the first time). Apparently old ladies at coffee shops would scream at him because he dared to sue Our Queen. A Mexican even pointed a gun at him (it wasn’t me, guys! Just a fellow countryman ❤️) and ordered Russ to drop the lawsuit. Computers at his job caught on literal fire because he was sent very powerful viruses. His friend Ken — who definitely exists! — was hit with a Molotov cocktail. Yep. 2016 was definitely the year people were willing to murder for Taylor Swift.

There’s also this brilliant dream sequence that involves an owl with the voice of Morgan Freeman, and Taylor’s agents guarding a tower in which she’s being held captive.

ALSO ALSO: an entire chapter is called “SHE CHOSE HIM OVER ME”. Taylor Swift chose Joe Alwyn — a man she actually knows — over a man she’s not even aware exists. Women, amiright?

I think Russell would enjoy the Kaylor community to a certain extent. Not the lesbian part, obviously: he doesn’t trust women who don’t want to touch his peen. I just mean the baseless hatred of Joe. Look, I made a little collage of his rants ❤️ tell me if any of this sounds familiar!

You know — I’ve been joking around a lot about Russell just wanting to do the nasty with Taylor. But you know me, I like joking around. In reality Russ only wants what is fair. He wants to put a stop to all these senseless acts of kindness perpetrated by Taylor ‘The Generous’ Swift.

This isn’t about him at all, actually. Shame on you for thinking there’s an ounce of greed in that selfless little body of his. HE’S DOING THIS TO PROTECT THE KIDS WITH CANCER!

There are no ulterior motives here! This isn’t about a date!

THIS IS NOT ABOUT A DATE AT ALL GUYS STOP SAYING THAT.

I think this is my favourite post of his, because– grammatically speaking –he doesn’t specify which of them is wearing the red dress. And that sends me every goddamn time.

Anyway. The book, as magnificent as it was, got him absolutely nowhere. I know, I can’t believe it either. So he went back to focus on his lawsuit. But apparently not enough, because he didn’t serve her properly..? Now, don’t expect me to understand this, because I am very stupid (so it’s quite a good thing that I haven’t sued anybody for millions of dollars) but something about him sending the lawsuit to her old legal team..? And then trying to force UPS to serve her? I think he even said he was going to serve her in the middle of one of her concerts... but I’m guessing that didn’t go as planned 🤷‍♀️ oops.

Of course, Russie wouldn’t allow such an anticlimactic ending. Can you guess what he did? Please tell me that you can guess what he did. HE MADE ANOTHER SONG 😭❤️

This one is called ‘I Don’t Get You, Taylor Swift’. Another masterpiece that we definitely didn’t deserve 🙌

youtube

This was around April, 2019. By then I was being lured away by Kaylors, so I broke it off with Russ. I know that he filed a 3rd lawsuit against Taylor last year, which is just like the second one but hopefully this time he’ll be able to serve. And listen— I know that sounds like an awful thing to wish on Taylor, but I’d rather have Russell occupied suing a rich woman (who isn’t even going to deal with him), than a poor sex worker in Nevada. I bet TayTay would prefer that too.

Well guys, I’ve mentioned this a few times already, but I really had to be selective with the amount of information I was going to throw at you. I’ve avoided some of the shittier stuff he said or did, because I wanted to keep these posts as lighthearted as possible. I also didn’t touch on many things because they would just derail us. Like for example: one of the few lawsuits he has filed against someone who isn’t a woman, was against the state of Utah. I know, right? He’s trying to singlehandedly legalise prostitution in Utah, and even wrote a book (more like a pamphlet) brilliantly titled ‘Why I'm Making It Legal for Your 18 Year Old Daughter to Get In Bed with a Complete Stranger for Only 500 Bucks: A Short Essay from a Pro Se Litigant who is Challenging the Utah Brothel Bans’.

I copy-pasted that title guys, I swear to god.

The book is very graphic. This one I certainly do not recommend as I still suffer nightmares because of it.

Soren is a character who also had to be cut out — which is a shame because he really tried to be a good christian and help Russell. Not as in “I support you, Russell” but as in “why don’t you take a nap, Russell”. Turns out, even cinnamon rolls have a limit. Russ, of course, blames Taylor Swift for the fact that he’s losing his friends. I’m not joking — it’s an article in his lawsuit:

Greer has lost family relationships, friend connections and business connections because of the trauma of Taylor Swift. His family tells him to "get over it," resulting in shouting matches and strained relationships. Greer's friends get annoyed by his focusing on the trauma of it, when nobody knows the pain of getting rejected by a public figure — twice — and the fallout that has resulted from it.

Russell embodies that comic/meme of the little guy who puts a stick in his bicycle’s wheels and then blames Taylor Swift when he inevitably falls.

Sooooo...

Maybe someday I’ll write a post about Russ’ latest antics. I know he still posts stupid stuff on Facebook, which he later deletes. He shined especially bright at the peak of the BLM movement. He also plead guilty to electronic communications harassment— did you see that conviction coming? Yes, yes you did 😌

Regarding Taylor, I read that Russ knew someone who knew Todrick Hall — and Russ sent him a song and video for Taylor. All he got back was a Cease and Desist letter. But I’d have to do a bit of digging to get the details. I was already so overwhelmed with organising the information I was previously aware of, that I decided to leave the newer stuff for another time. You know, once I’ve had some time to inform myself... as well as a really long shower.

Since I left so much shit out, I’ll be taking questions if you have any. And if you can muster the courage to ask them. I’m weirdly proud of being some kind of Russell encyclopaedia. I might not have much going for me...

There’s no ‘but’ — that was the complete statement.

Before I go, I wanted to add this screenshot. I absolutely love it because it summarises ✨The Russell Experience✨. Russ wants Taylor to know pain, poverty and punishment. But when asked “why?” his answer is just “oh, I was ignored lol”

*none of the screenshots are mine

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supremeuppityone · 4 years ago

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Author’s note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. Prompt: Pain. As an Original, Klaus thought he understood death. But it took meeting one brave human to show him how little he actually knew.

Warning: The angst is back. This idea came to me when I had a health scare earlier this year and I wasn’t quite ready to work through it until now.

Chapter 121: Special Care

“Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.” ― Isaac Asimov

Klaus was a selfish man. But he couldn’t be selfish about this. This was not about his pain. He watched Caroline’s blue eyes light up as she cradled the delicate blue flowers he’d given her. It was foolish, but he imagined that his gift brought color back to her cheeks. She was far too pale. Klaus had met Caroline when he was traveling through the Andes, searching for a powerful shaman to assist him with locating the final ingredients needed to break his hybrid curse. He’d been in a right strop when he tore through the mountain village, dripping blood and chunks of flesh, and it wasn’t until he’d paused at a stream to wash off some of the gore that he heard the sweetest, most sarcastic voice.

“If you keep scrubbing that hard, you’ll rub off all your glitter.”

From her impish grin, he assumed his expression was quite comical, but for the first time in centuries, he found himself at a loss for words.

“You’re a vampire, right? Seriously?! How do you not know about Twilight?”

For the first time since that half-witted shaman had betrayed him, he burst out laughing.

And that was the moment his life changed. Because Klaus had never met a human so full of life like Caroline was. But Caroline was dying. As he thought of the pain she’d endured, he could feel his temper flaring, wishing he could unleash his fury at this indifferent world.

�� “Stop it, Klaus,” Caroline’s melodic voice commanded, taking him by the hand and leading him out into the garden. “It’s not your job to be angry at my cancer. Trust me — I’m angry enough for both of us.”

He watched her fussily arrange the brightly colored flowers in the lopsided vase she stubbornly kept from his disastrous pottery lesson, frowning when he noticed how her knees started to shake. He guided her to the plush daybed, mindful of his supernatural strength as he felt how painfully thin she was underneath her gauzy dress. “Trust me, sweetheart, I was furious at the world ages before you came along.”

“Yeah, but I’m special. Something about beautiful and full of light, blah, blah,” she said with a wink. “And before when you were pissed off, you’d just slaughter a village until you felt better, but this is different.” Her voice took on a more serious tone, and she slid her gaze away from his. “It’s metastatic breast cancer. I have tumors throughout my body. I can’t be cured; the best I can hope for is to keep up my herbal treatments here.”

He shook his head, doing his best to quell his anger. None of this was her fault. He knew when she’d first been diagnosed in the States, she went through the conventional chemotherapy before moving to targeted therapy treatments, but each time the cancer grew back. Finally, she’d exhausted all of her options, and instead pursued a variety of alternative herbal therapies that eventually led her to Argentina. “The kenaf seed extract and aromatherapy seem to be working,” he murmured, placing a kiss to her temple.

Caroline laced their fingers together, a familiar note of caution in her voice as she gently reminded him, “It’s true in lab trials, the extracts killed cancer cells better than some of the other herbal supplements I’ve tried. But with metastasis, there’s peaks and valleys — sometimes the disease is stable, and other times it progresses.”

“But you’re stable now,” he blurted out, hating the uncertainty in his voice.

Her smile was sunshine and joy and all of the sweet promises Klaus fervently wished he’d known centuries ago. How different his life would’ve been. “It’s like I reminded my doctors when they tried to talk me about of moving down here. It’s about the quality of my life, Klaus.”

They were distracted when a vibrant blue and green hummingbird appeared, hovering over the orange and yellow bell-shaped flowers. He heard Caroline’s heart flutter in excitement, and he did his best to ignore her shortness of breath.

Turning away, he observed the hummingbird, an odd sense of peace washing over him as he observed, “Such an extraordinary thing, mercilessly beating its wings just to stay alive. I’ve never witnessed a creature with such fire in its soul, fighting to earn every moment of its life.” He glanced back at her, his gray gaze intense while his voice was barely above a harsh whisper as he said, “Except for you.”

“Are you always so charming,” she asked dryly, reaching up to poke at one of his dimples. “Or, do you normally let your dimples do all the work?”

Klaus gave her an indulgent smile. He loved her sheer cheek; the way she never backed down from him even after she saw what he was. She was glorious. His equal in every way. “Let me turn you,” he pleaded, “my blood can heal you, and then you can be with me.”

“Ask me tomorrow.” She laid her head on his chest, palm resting over his heart. “I’m always surprised that I can feel your heartbeat. It’s strong — like you.”

“And I can hear yours,” he replied gruffly, her erratic pulse sending him into a panic that he did his best to cover up with a smirk.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

Klaus found himself leaning into the warmth of her embrace, protectively draping his body against hers as they watched the hummingbird flit from one flower to another.

Amazing.

_______________________________________

“You’re going to drop me,” Caroline said with a giggle, her voice muffled against his shoulder and Klaus cradled her against him.

“Nonsense, love. Even as a lad, I carried deer that weighed more than you. Even some of our goats.” As she rolled her eyes, he hastily added, “But you smell much better.”

“And I smell bullshit.”

Her delighted giggles made his heart feel like it was breaking and healing all at once. They came to a stop at the blanket he’d spread out on the dock, and he carefully laid her among several pillows. Lake Lacár was a magnificent sapphire blue today, and Klaus knew he’d always see Caroline’s fierce gaze reflected in its still waters. Gesturing to the wicker basket, he said, “I thought you’d enjoy a picnic.”

He shyly handed her a glass, pleased that the witch’s freezing spell had kept the smoothies the perfect temperature. “This has ginger in it. I thought it would help with your nausea.”

She beamed at him, taking a sip and nodding enthusiastically, “Delicious. You’re too good to me.”

He ducked his curly head, cheeks reddening slightly. “Many things have been said about me over the centuries, but ‘good’ never was one of them. I’m not a good man, sweetheart.” Snorting derisively, he added, “I’m not even a man.”

Setting aside their smoothies, Caroline huffed impatiently. “Who the hell cares? I certainly don’t. You’re smart and tough and fiercely protective. You’re basically a Rottweiler with dimples.” She leaned forward, briefly brushing her lips to his.

Every time they touched, Klaus felt as though his soul was sinking into hers a little more, and he welcomed how his loneliness seemed to vanish. He cupped her cheek, thumb lightly grazing the sharpness he found there. “And you are a cheeky minx.”

Caroline grinned, gazing across the water at the people paddling their kayaks. “Hey, when you finally get around to breaking your curse, will you take on more wolfy characteristics?” She placed her hand over his heart, her voice endearingly curious as she questioned, “I mean...do you feel your wolf now?”

Klaus was stunned — no one ever had asked him that before. “Being cut off from my wolf is...hurtful. Sometimes I fancy I can feel it move through me, but I’m never sure. My birthright is there, trapped in my blood and bones.” He sighed heavily, “And it’s beyond my reach.”

“Nothing is beyond your reach,” she swore vehemently, “you’re Klaus Mikaelson. You’re the man who survived an unspeakable, violent childhood and now has powerful supernatural creatures as his minions.” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, dryly adding, “And you fearlessly attempted to teach me how to make alfajores.”

“And then generously replaced your oven and repainted your kitchen.”

Caroline playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “Okay, seriously? The first two fires were your fault. The third and fourth ones...meh, we’ll call it a draw.”

Lips curling into a devious grin, he kissed her soundly, delighting in the tiny surprised squeak she emitted as he ran his hands down her back. He winced slightly as he felt the harsh ridge of her spine. She shuddered in his arms, and at first, he was alarmed that he’d hurt her, but then she moaned against him, dominating the kiss and he was lost within her.

With a gasp, she finally pulled back, resting their foreheads together. A hitch in her voice was apparent as she said, “Just need to catch my breath.” Klaus found it endearing when she giddily told him, “I can feel my pulse. It’s racing! Isn’t that amazing?”

“Amazing,” he agreed, cursing his supernatural hearing that told him her heart was pounding far too haphazardly. Needing reassurance, he lightly touched her chest, the feel of it moving with every breath both a blessing and a curse. “Will you let me turn you?”

“Ask me tomorrow.” Caroline’s sunshine smile always filled him with warmth. He refused to see how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

When a jewel-toned hummingbird briefly hovered over the blue flowers near the edge of the water, her eyes lit up excitedly. “Do you think it’s the same one from the garden? Aww, he’s alone again. I hope he finds a friend soon. Everyone needs someone.”

_______________________________________

Klaus knew something was wrong the moment Caroline didn’t answer her door. The morning felt different. Everything did. He took the spare key from the hideous ceramic frog she’d insisted on buying when they visited the village market because ‘it looked lonely.’ He loathed the panic in his voice when he called out, “Caroline?”

He found her lying in bed. And far too still. And he could smell —

No.

Cursing his supernatural senses, Klaus flashed away, unable to be in her room a moment longer. That wasn’t Caroline anymore.

Needing to feel close to her, he found himself in her garden. She loved being surrounded by flowers and once she’d grown too weak to tend them, she’d enlisted his help to keep everything blooming. Suddenly, a blue-green hummingbird flitted to the vibrant, bell-shaped flowers, and despite his sorrow, his lips quirked when he saw the hummingbird had brought a friend. Caroline would’ve liked that.

Caroline was gone. But she didn’t have to be. There was magic Klaus could use; a powerful coven was cheaper than buying an election these days. The right promises of power and protection coupled with the proper threats and even the most discerning of witches would pledge their loyalty.

He clenched his fists, trembling. She would be whole again. Ageless and beautiful. And his. Except Caroline never wanted to be anything more than what she was. Human. All she’d ever wanted was more time. He saw it in her earnest gaze and bittersweet smile every time she rebuffed his offer. ‘Ask me tomorrow’ was her way of telling him she craved another day at his side as a human.

Klaus was a selfish man. But he couldn’t be selfish about this.

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfic #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline #angsty angst #finally ready to work through my sht

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holy-mountaineering · 5 years ago

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This spread is for a donor who’d like to remain anonymous!

Here’s the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do and here you are. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole. You know the routine.

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe as a person, the Qabalistic Adam Kadmon.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have XVIII The Moon, Pieces, Qoph.

This is the ‘Sun at midnight where you stand shines on the other side of the world’. The pull of night and day eventually rising illuminating what was once dark. As opposed to the old Aeon idea of the Sun dying, this is the cyclic motion of the push and pull of the day and night. The dark gives the light context and vis-a-versa.

See the light in the dark, accept the cyclic push and pull, if you don’t like what “time of day it is” in your life I assure you it will change like the tides.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of your hometown is the Knight of Cups, the fiery part of Water or acting on feeling.

Ideally this is the drive to seek higher connections and feelings and being driven by intuition and love. Just don’t fall

for illusions and false ideals. This is the love that brings you closer to connecting with everything, recognizing connection and it’s drive. This is the Arthurian tale of chasing the Holy Grail *Insert Monty Python joke here* simply to have a true connection to their god. Seek love like that.

Act on what you feel and truly intuit but only to the ends of unselfish almost worshipful Love. Do things that get you really really feeling.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the 2 of Cups, Love.

Like all the 2s the deuces of Water is building towards completion. This is the ever becomingness of love. Love never dies, it is simply transformed like any other energy. Love isn’t a competition or something you can measure. You never stop loving someone/thing because you have “reached maximum love levels”, shake hands and walk away from it. There is no end-game to love and that’s why it’s scary and makes people act like idiots sometimes. Astrologically, Venus in Cancer can be interpreted as nurturing your emotional growth.

Build on what you’re feeling and don’t try to think about anything too concretely emotionally or intuitively. This is a building process so try not to focus on the final outcome but work with what you have now.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the Princess of Cups, the earthy part of Water.

We could consider this the substance in water or water hitting substance head on. This is the idea of the canyon wall being ground down over the millennia by moving water. The nutrients and minerals in the earth are transported down river to the fertile delta. This is the natural, “following your feelings” within your daily life. Try not to fool yourself, follow your intuition, not just passing whims. Feel, don’t necessarily react immediately.

Go with what you feel and intuit, let yourself go with the flow, if you will. Allow your situation to move with your emotions and be patient with your progress.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is, well, everything kinda, XXI The Universe, Saturn, Tau.

The Universe is the totality of what we can sense and know. The dance of the Woman with the cosmic serpent and the Eye destroying while everything constantly recreates. We see the Universe only from our position in it. You may send out your satellites to explore unknown areas but you can only process what they might mean from your place. The more we try to take into our restrictive minds and spirits, the more we know about the whole and ourselves and our place in the Universe.

Step back and look at the connections and totality of everything you know and experience. It’s quite a view.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is a big same AKA 0 The Fool, Aleph, Air.

This is mathematical zero or total possibility. This is the desire to create one’s self into a form, the logos or word spoken that jump started creation. The beginning of a journey of discovery. Going outward from stasis to tangibility. Making a thing from no-thing

Since you are nought, coming from no-thing into some-thing everything is discovery, for better or for worse. Just get up, get out, and do something! What to do and the direction to take to get there aren’t on any map.

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is the Ace of Swords, the root power of Air or the mind.

This is the sword of the Magus and the magician’s Sword is the physical representation of our mind and it’s ability in its rawest state of being. Thelema is inscribed on the blade of the Sword in Greek because the Magus uses their mind to the end of their True Will. The Crown of light at the tip of the Sword is the illuminated mind, because in its singleness and sharpness it is the foundation of the mind, intellect, and communication powers.

Use your mind for what you need it to do. Remember that a sword is useless at best and dangerous at worst when it isn’t handled correctly. You can cut down an army with a sword, but you can also cut your whole-ass leg or arm off too with one too. Knowledge is dangerous and scary, be prepared.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is the Queen of Swords, or how you feel about what you think and your reasoning.

Ideally, this Queen is the “caller out of bullshit.” She is watery (intuitive) enough to feel when a facade is being put up and airy (intelligent) enough to cut the shit and address the fakery. The difference between someone trying to take advantage of another and a person who accidentally causes misfortune is the intention of said individual. Don’t be fooled by kind wolves or rabid sheep.

She rests at her throne with the head or mask of a man and the sword of her mind she severed the head/mask with. Her expression is one of disinterest, she’s done this many times before and shall again and again. It is her nature.

Be aware of intentions, even your own. Be wary of situations and people talking from behind masks they wish to use to obscure their true meaning. Especially be aware of yourself and your masks you hide behind.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is friend of the blog, V The Hierophant, Vau, Taurus.

This is being initiated into how things work in the material or normal world. This is the secrets of how things are and some of that is being revealed to you. This is a person, institution, or experience that is telling you “trade secrets” or how to do what you do better. 5s are the human or microcosmic number and Taurus reiterates this material theme. Once you find out how to improve yourself and your understanding of the world, you must now go out and actually use that skill. Knowledge is useless if it is not implemented in the knower’s life and behavior.

Get initiated into the cult of your sphere of interest. Learn how to improve what you do through being initiated in one way or another. Find what/who helps you to learn the “secrets” of how to do your thing better and then go out and do those things.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is the always a riot, the 10 of Swords (mental and communicative) Ruin.

Astrologically, this is Sol the Sun or your center being split by the duality of Gemini or duplicity. This is like making a decision by not making one. Your intellect is collapsing in on itself due to building duality or otherness conflicting with how you think of you. This is being “of two minds” but they duo doesn’t seem to work together very well. The good news is that they’re damn near done working together at all. 10s are the highest number card or as intense as it gets.

Try to integrate your splitting and increasingly destructive thinking and/or communicating, make meaning out of this chaos. And hey, don’t worry, it’s peaked and now you have to slide down the mountain of crazy you just climbed.

So, Basically, it seems dark right now because you’re not focusing on your Light enough and to do that you’ll need to act from a place of Love, that ever moving towards that leaves us both vulnerable and strong, in the same, but different confusing ass ways.

Then, we get to the part where the freedom of nothing is tempered by the restriction of everything, garnished with the substance in emotion and connection. That is to say, your heart is longing for ultimate Freedom, while your actions and goals are focused on the “Big Picture” and you can temper these by recognizing that value in both positions and finding middle ground by observing and participating in the “motion of the ocean” or finding the strongest currents and using them to your advantage.

Your personal growth from all this comes from hitting the “reset” button on your mind. That tool of the Mind that allows us to communicate is a sharp tool (for you, not everyone, as this hellsite constantly reminds me) and should be treated with respect and awe. This “Meh-ness” of realization shouldn’t slow you don’t if you don’t let it. Instead of being overwhelmed or underwhelmed, just be whelmed and move on, because you’re about to encounter a wonderful teaching moment, if you allow it/them in.

And, I feel like I say this to you a fair amount: Don’t break your brain. You’ve got a lot on the ol’ noggin, too much, really. Just allow this bit to wash over, through, and then the fuck up out of you.

Ta Da! Hit me up with any questions, comments, concerns or Qabalistic queries!

#tarot card readings #tarot spreads #occult #magick #qabalistic tree of life #divination #cartomancy

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memento-mariii · 5 years ago

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That last post I reblogged reminds me of the first time I ever experienced misogyny. Or as I like to call it, ~Baby's First Taste of Misogyny~

You see, until then, I was really lucky. I was never catcalled or sexually harassed, and my parents never made me feel that the most important thing about me was my looks. In fact, since I was one of those kids with ADD whose neurodivergence manifested as something that could be miscontrued as brilliance, I think they were convinced that I was going to up to find the Cure for Cancer(TM), or become a SuperLawyer(TM), or something. (Sorry for being a disappointment, Mom & Dad! Love ya!)

I was so successfully shielded from sexism until then, to the point that I used to be one of those girls who think that feminism is a little silly. After all, haven't we already achieved equality? Isn't sexism a thing in the past? (Spoiler alert: no we haven't and no it isn't. Sadly.)

Fast forward to first year of high school. Or maybe it was third year of middle school? As a teen, I have been to a lot of science programs, to the point I can't exactly remember which was which, so I can't pinpoint the exact time. But I do remember hating Twilight back then-I vividly remember reading a twihate blog on livejournal on the bus to the SNU-so it must be when Twilight was still popular, or at least when it was still relevant.

So, late middle school or early high school: since I was something of a teacher's pet, and a straight-up-A student to boot(this is not a humblebrag; me being excellent at high school has zero bearing on the clusterfuck that is my life now; I guess I peaked at high school), my science teacher offered me a chance to go to Seoul National University's science outreach program. I use the term "outreach program" loosely- the program taught us nothing about science, it was more of a "come and get to know our school, so more of you'll enroll and we'd have more tuition to build more unnecessary buildings with" kind of deal. (I'm sure there's a word for that in English, but I'm not a native speaker and nothing comes to mind, so I'll keep on referring it as an outreach program)

Nevertheless, I was STOKED. In case you don't know, Seoul National University is one of the best, if not the best school in South Korea. It also happened to be my dream college.

So, on that fateful day, I, accompanied by handful of other students from our school's science club, show up to SNU and are joined by similar students from other schools. They lead us to a boring white room with a beam projector in it. Then a guy, in his late-thirties or so, comes in and talks about the school, what kind of stuff they teach, how natural sciences are awesome and you shouldn't ever think about going to engineering school(if it wasn't obvious, the outreach program was directed by SNU's natural sciences department and not the whole school, har har), et cetra. I'll call this guy the Speaker, because to this day I have no idea if that dude was supposed to be a professor, a tutor, a faculty member, or some rando that happened to work in the department.

Soon, the Speaker guy is done with his speaking, and he asks if anyone has any questions. Two or so dudes raise their hands, and he picks one and answers his question. Then he says that this time, he'll take a question from one of the girls. None of us raise our hands-I don't know why, maybe they were busy taking notes? I, for one, had tons of questions I was dying to ask, but was to shy to actually raise my hands, so maybe they too were shy?-whatever it was, it wasn't because of plain disinterest, because remember: those girls wanted to come. They were handpicked by their teachers as students most likely to be interested in the outreach program. All of them were members of their school's science clubs. And remember!!! the guys weren't that different either!!! only two of the guys had raised their hands, so that's only two people less!!!

So imagine my surprise, when out of the blue, OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE, this idiot opens his gapehole and says---

"솔직히 여학생들은 이런것보다 솥뚜껑 운전이 더 편하죠, 안그래요?"

What he said is a misogynistic Korean slang, so it's hard for me to translate exactly, but the gist of it goes like this.

"Honestly girls would be better off staying in the kitchen and making and sandwiches than doing something like this(as in, studying STEM) am I right?"

I am shocked. I am flabbergasted. Remember, this guy's job is to leave a good impression of the school to the students so that they'd want to return there when they graduate. But this idiot, this absolute buffoon, comes up and invokes the Korean equivalent of the tired phrase, "make me a sandwich"! This is such a monumentally stupid move on his part, to this day I have no idea what he was thinking. Again, his job was to leave a good impression of the school! What was he trying to achieve with such a jab? Doesn't the school have any sort of sensitivity program? I'd assume he could get in huge trouble if any of the students reported his behaviour to the administration! He had nothing to gain, and everything to lose from saying such a thing! What was he thinking? It makes no logistical sense. If it wasn't my first-hand experience, and I heard this from somebody else, I'd think they were bullshitting me. Sometimes even I wonder if it was just a fever dream. It's that stupid! It makes! no! sense!

The students aren't exactly enraged, but we're not laughing along either. If anything, we're confusedly sharing awkward glances with each other. And because men like this are astronomically bad at getting a clue, the idiot prattles on:

"I feel bad for you girls. You don't actually want to be here, but your parents are forcing you to do it because they are too conceited."

Conceited for what? Supporting and encouraging their daughter's passion for science? For thinking that their daughters were good enough to be equal to their male colleagues in STEM? For thinking that their daughters could ever achieve anything more than "staying in the kitchen and making sandwiches"? Who is the one that's being conceited here? And motherfucker, how dare you insult my parents like that?

The atmosphere is getting tangibly awkard now. The discomfort is real. And the speaker, fool that he is, finally catches on. He abruptly and clumsily changes the subject, and luckily for everyone, it's time for restroom breaks not long after that.

I didn't need to go to the bathroom, not really, but I go anyway to lock myself in the stalls and gather my thoughts for a bit. After the bathroom break is over, it's time for another speaker to speak, so that awful speaker has already left the room(thank God!). The rest of the day goes by in a blur, and I don't have much memory of it.

A disclaimer: after that incident, I was invited to a lot of different science outreach programs, some of it manned by the Seoul National University, and all of them were really educational and all around delightful. I have nothing but fond memories of them. In fact, I can only think of one instant when a university-led science program wasn't fun, and that's the incident I have detailed above. So I won't call SNU itself misogynistic, just that the first of their outreach program I went to was....weird. They didn't even teach science(all of the other outreach programs I went to taught ar least some science), it didn't look like it was sanctioned by the whole school, only the natural sciences department, and there were like kids from only a handful of schools(all the other outreach programs I went to had kids from at least tens of schools). So.... I don't really know what happened, behind the scenes.

Despite all that, SNU continued to be my dream university.

Even though I now had a newfound anxiety about never being seen as an equal by my male peers, I continued to love science and ended up majoring in Chemical Engineering. (I didn't end up going to the SNU though, but not for lack of trying. The school I go to is pretty rad too, but not as rad as SNU.)

I wish I could tell you what happened to the sexist speaker, but I honestly have no idea. But I hope he got fired. I can say only one kind thing about that guy, and it's that he made me realize that sexism and misogyny are alive and well in this day and age, which led to me becoming a feminist.

So, thank you for that, Mr. Speaker from my memories. Let's not meet again.

#long post #mmari rambles #rant #women in stem #misogyny #feminism #tw sexism #tw swearing #honestly I said SNU but it's been so long ago I'm not sure if it was that or KAIST #either way it had a huge impact on my worldview #a rude (but much needed) wake-up call

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yasminsqueendom · 5 years ago

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Antique the Vamp Geek Pt1 Ep14

CW: Blood consumption, homelessness, violence, starvation, and the usual

A/N: Tique finally gets a guest on her show. And it’s not pleasant

W/C: 3267

Hey guys. So ummm…..I finally got a guest to join me here at the station. I can’t say I’m too pleased. I think my listeners will understand why when I tell you who it is.

You might say, I’m meeting my maker?

Give a…..warm...welcome to Jules. He turned me.

Yeah….

Jules: Well, thank you for having me here today, Antique. I know it took a lot-

Antique: You don’t know, actually. You don’t have a fucking clue.

J: Listen…I know I can’t apologize enough for what I did to you. You’ve lost a lot because of my carelessness. You never deserved-

A: What part of “you don’t have a fucking clue” don’t you understand. You ruined my fucking life. And, yeah, I get that I was drunk and there were other guys that were all over me, too. But they all moved on. YOU knew your status, and you took a risk that might have ended my life, but just happened to fuck it up instead.

J: And I’m so so-

A: Fuck your “sorry.” I allowed you to come here because you’ve been a vamp for over 15 years. You survived a time when no one knew about us, and are surviving when everyone knows about us. I have baby vamp listeners that need help. You wanna atone for your fucked up ways, help them.

J:......ok….. What do you wanna know?

A: How were you turned? And untwist your face. The best place to start is the beginning.

J: Alright. Damn. I used to be a drug addict. I shared needles. Probably was dying from some virus or another anyway. I never used protection when I did things for money or drugs. I never cared if I was sharing needles. Death didn’t mean a damn thing to me. I was all the way out there. The “War on Drugs” kept me in and out of jail, but that didn’t do anything to stop me. I was reckless.

Next thing I knew, everything was hurting. I had stuff coming out of every end of my body. I was a mess. I went to this chick’s house. She let me stay there sometimes. She paid me whenever I needed money, and I did whatever she wanted me to do. I had stored some clothes at her house. I got all changed and cleaned up. I threw my old clothes out.

It was still night time. I didn’t realize right away what was happening. Vampires were still a myth back then. I couldn’t fathom it. I thought I just had some bad drugs. I was out of it, but I still had drugs flowing through my system. Adrenaline and fear kept me moving. I couldn’t completely shake my high though, so I passed out on the couch. I still threw up on her couch and her bathroom floor. She threw me out after that. See, she thought I was dying and didn’t want my body in her house. I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t fight her when she told me to leave.

I walked around outside, and waited for the sun to come up. Slowly, I started to realize that I was hot. You know exactly what feeling I’m talking about. Like my flesh was on fire. And it got worse as the sun moved over my head. Blisters started to form on me and everything. I know I looked like a monster. I was lucky no one called the cops on me. Getting locked up at that point would have killed me….

A: Sorry to interrupt, but I’m curious. You have no clue who turned you? Because you were exposed in so many different ways?

J: Yeah, basically.

A: Did you ever try to figure out who it was?

J: There was no point. It’s not like I could blast them on a radio show…

A: Don’t start with me, bitch nigga.

J: Chill the fuck out.

A: You can leave, if that’s how you feel.

J: Is that what you want?

A: I want you to shut the fuck up. But I promised I would do this for my baby vamp listeners, and you’re here. So by all means, go on.

J: Anyway, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went into a clinic, and asked to be seen. Obviously, I looked a mess, so the receptionist told me to leave. She just saw a crackhead, probably coming in to try to steal some fresh needles out of the rooms in the back. Again, I couldn’t blame her, but at this point I was aware enough to realize that the burning had stopped. I was starting to heal when I had to walk back out into the sun.

A: So, just to give my listeners an idea. Jules is dark skin, he’s got plenty of melanin to spare. So, Jules, how long would you say it took for the burning to become visible on you?

J: Um, it took a couple of hours for the blisters to start. I felt the burning very slightly at first, then it got nearly unbearable after about 3 hours. The parts of my body that were covered by my clothes were darker, but not yet blistered. It didn’t take rocket science for me to figure out long sleeves, and hats. Sunglasses worked, too. Hoodies, and jackets. Long pants, dress socks, and boots. I basically looked shady af all the time. You think cops are bad now, there were a lot less cameras then.

A: So when did you know you were for sure a vampire?

J: After I killed someone. And they bled…...and I couldn’t help myself. I was starving, and they certainly didn’t need their blood anymore.

A: Uh….context is key here.

J: Basically, it was a few months after I turned. I went to various soup kitchens, and ate out of trash cans, but it all tasted like shit. Food, and even things I drank, tasted like ass.

A: Wait, so you could taste them?

J: I just said….

A:I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAID! I can’t taste anything. Food literally tastes like air in my mouth. But you’re saying that you can taste it. It just tastes awful?

J: Well, yes.

A: Asshole.

J: What did I do now?

A: Exist.

J:... Do you need a moment?

A: No, keep going.

J: Right, so I didn’t crave drugs anymore. That was probably the biggest shock, after realizing I was a vampire, but that came much later. At the time, I was thinking I had a new lease on life, but I had already burned all my bridges. My family wanted nothing to do with me. I had no money, and I had to lift some clothes and shoes until I could had a couple outfits to change.

It didn’t take long for the thirst to kick in. It started really bad those first couple of days after I turned. I drank all the water, soda, booze, anything I would get my hands on. Nothing made it go away. Eventually, I started to get thinner. I was already skinny, being a former crackhead, but I really began to look like a skeleton. I thought that I had HIV or something. I thought maybe it was cancer. I started feeling reckless again. Shit, if I was gonna die, I might as well do what made me feel good. Fucking, and smoking.

I went back to my old bullshit, but my highs never lasted. It just wasn’t hittin the same anymore. Fucking, though, that shit got more intense. I know now that it’s just the virus picking up on a chance to spread to someone else, but at the time, I just enjoyed it.

A: And got several more people infected, I’m sure.

J: Listen..

A: If you really thought you had HIV, why the fuck would you go around trying to infect more people? HIV has a much higher rate of infection than sanguinilis.

J: I didn’t know anything about that at the time. No one would help me. The clinics turned me away.

A: I’m not just talking about vampirism. If you thought you had HIV, why would you put people’s lives at risk like that??

J: I didn’t care.

A: Well, that’s obvious.

J: Did you bring me here to judge me, or to get information.

A: So far, all I’ve gotten from you is a fucking sob story.

J: What do you want from me? I apologized to you, I came here knowing how you and everyone else would feel about me. I don’t know what else to do.

A: Help baby vamps. They need help. You can’t make anything better for the people you’ve fucked over. You can help people who need it.

J: I don’t have any money, or influence, or anything worth giving.

A: Just keep talking then. I’ll decide what has value and what doesn’t. My listeners will decide what’s bullshit, and what’s not. Why did you kill someone?

J: So, as i was saying, I was starving. I had just had smoked, so I was in the peak of my high. I started coming down shortly after, and I feel someone’s hands all on me. Now, I was under one of those highway passes, and there are always homeless people willing to share space, especially if it’s cold out.

Anyway, I woke up, and felt the dude I was sharing with trying to rob me. I considered just laying there and letting him finish. But, I could feel this fire building up in my stomach. Eventually, my throat started to burn, and my mouth felt so dry. I had no control over my impulse, I swung and hit him hard on the side of his head. He fell, and I got on top of him and just kept hitting him until he stopped moving. His teeth were broken, his lips were bleeding. I’ll never forget. He was the first person I had ever killed on purpose. I can’t speak to those I didn’t mean to infect, but I know that I had every intention of killing that man.

So, yeah, he was bleeding out. I was thirsty. I knew he was dead. We always know when death is around. But it made no difference. His brain was gone, and his heart was on it’s last few pumps. I started drinking. It felt amazing. No orgasm could compare. No high could come close. I had all I could ever want right there, pouring down my throat. I went back to sleep, with his corpse sitting right beside me. I could feel my heartbeat speeding up. I never really listened to my heartbeat before. I realized for the first time that my heart rate was slower than normal.

And in that exact second, it clicked. I was a vampire. And it was nothing like what I had read about or heard about or seen in movies. I felt amazing and awful at the same time. I now knew why I couldn’t be out in the sun for too long, but I used to love the sun. We all have our favorite foods, and now I knew that I would never enjoy them again. I knew that I had seen my reflection, so at least that story wasn’t true.

A: And you still turned me, knowing that this was possibly going to be my fate?

J: I…

A: Just don’t. And I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just say that was the FIRST kill on purpose.

J: Ok.

A: What kind of symptoms do you feel when you are starving?

J: I feel paranoid mostly. Like everyone around me is going to attack me at any moment. Sometimes, I hear voices. I feel a strong urge to attack, although not necessarily with the purpose of biting them. It doesn’t always feel like thirst. Sometimes, I just feel rage. I can’t really describe it. I have come very close to starving several times now. Each time is different. Although, that hasn’t been an issue for me for years now thanks to my connections.

A: And you intend to share that info with my listeners, right?

J: I honestly can’t say that I do. Maybe a few places to go looking, but they have to do the rest on their own. I’m not going to lose what I have to feed anyone else. Maybe you. You look like you need it.

A: Shut the fuck up. I’m fine.

J: Uh huh.

A: You’re an asshole.

J: Is that why you want to know what happens next? You want a peek into your future.

A: Don’t flatter yourself. This virus is the only thing we have in common, and I refuse to let you manipulate me any more. You’re here to be useful, and if you can’t be that, then leave.

J: You want the rest of the story?

A: Just tell it and finish.

J: I answered the last question already.

A: What did you do after? How did you link up with people to help you?

J: I mean. Without giving away too much, there’s a market for everything. If you do enough research, you can find anything. After the first few years of struggling, I got hold of a computer. The internet has kept me fed. I could buy and sell things without even having to meet anyone face to face. It didn’t take long for me to get a consistent plug who could provide what I needed.

I still struggle with consistency today though. The demand has gotten higher since more and more people have been trying to get access lately.

A: By struggle, is it safe to assume that you mean you fed off of people you knew? Clearly, you’re not above taking what you want. Did you even ask them if they wanted you to do it.?

J: No, I didn’t. How was I supposed to say “Hey, I’m a vampire” and get what I needed out them?

A: You could have disguised it as some weird kink?

J: Don’t be naive?

A: Don’t be a little bitch.

J: Did you want to know anything else?

A: This is a waste of time. Why did you come?

J: I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologize to your face. But, I’m not going to put myself at risk of starving to death, to feed your “baby” vamps. I struggled. You struggled. All of us that make it, have struggled. Those that can’t just have to deal with it.

A: You’ve been sending me all these creepy emails about the night that you turned me just to come here and say that?

J: Oh yeah, almost forgot to say. I never sent you anything like that.

A: You’re a fucking liar.

J: No, actually. I don’t always tell the whole truth, but I never lie.

A: That literally makes no fucking sense.

J: I didn’t send you any weird emails about that night. Yeah, I listened to your show. There’s nothing else like it. I like you enough, but I moved on from that night pretty fast. You wouldn’t let it go, and I wanted to clear my name of some of the shit that you said. But, at the end of the day, I didn’t remember much about you. I felt bad about what I did, and since you gave me your number, I was able to call you the next day.

A: Stop. You expect me to believe that bullshit. You would be the only person to remember what I had on. You said you liked the way I looked in my dress.

J: I don’t remember what you had on. You looked good. You tasted good. But I knew you were drunk. And I’m not a rapist.

A: No… you just infect people who don’t know any better.

J: Listen. I haven’t been emailing you a got damn thing about the night. I didn’t even remember who you were until I heard you describe that night. I wanted to come forward. So, when you offered to bring someone on, I took you up on it.

A: Well, then who the fuck has been emailing me?

J: I don’t know.

A: I don’t believe you.

J: I don’t care.

A: Fuck you.

J: Last time you tried that we ended up here.

A: Get out.

J: Fine.

A: I need a drink.

J: You can’t get drunk.

A: Why are you still here?

J: I don’t know. I guess I feel bad. I guess I’m kinda like your vamp daddy or whatever?

A: Don’t ever say that shit out of your mouth again. I swear on everything I love, I will end your life.

J: You’re not strong enough. I can see you, unlike your baby vamps. You’re not strong enough.

A: I fucking hate you.

J: I know.

A:.....So that’s all that I’ve got for y’all today. Please, guys stay hydrated. I’m tired and I need to get off the air for a while. It’s the end of my semester, and that means it’s the end of my time here at my school as well. I do have some other things lined up, and I will definitely be active, but I won’t be posting for a little while.

Just remember that I love you all, and please stay safe. Stay moisturized. And stay hydrated.

Love Tique

*AFTER THE SHOW*

J: Listen…

A: DON’t FUCKING SPEAK TO ME!

J: Will you calm the fuck down for a minute?

A: What else could you possibly want from me? After all this, what else can you take from me?

J: Nothing ok. I’m trying to help you.

A: Helping me would have been calling me a fucking uber that night! Not biting me. There’s no way you got enough blood to consider it a real feeding. You had to have been preying on other girls that night, too. You better pray to whoever the fuck you believe in that I can’t whip your ass right now.

J: Shut the fuck up for a second.

A:....

J: I told you, I’m trying to make this shit right, you’ve lost weight. I’m a vampire, I know the signs. You need to feed. You need to keep doing what you’re doing. Talking to others out there like us. Educating others. I think what you do is important. And yeah, I’m an asshole, but it’s in my best interests to keep you alive. So here…

A: What the fuck?

J: It’s a bag of blood.

A: I know what the hell it is.

J: Take it.

A: No.

J: I know your naive, but you’re not stupid. I don’t get the impression that you’re suicidal either. So what is the issue?

A: You are.

J: You need to feed. Dying is the only other option. I don’t want you to die. I’m responsible for you….

A: So that’s it huh? You feel guilty?

J: I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here.

A: Hold the fuck up. You tryna say someone made you come here?

J: I’mma leave this bag here. Drink it, or don’t. I don’t care.

A: Answer my damn question!

J: I’ll get you some more. Drink that.

A: Got dammit! I said answer me!

J: See you around, Tique.

A: You don’t get to call me that.

Jules leaves. Antique caves. The world keeps turning.

#black vamps #black women in fiction #black fiction #black fic #black women #vamp #vampire #vamps #vampires

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contrivedcoincidences6 · 6 years ago

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Okay you making me 🤤 With your fics!!!! Now go and take care of me being horny! Prompt 30 please 💃🏼💃🏼 P.S: xfpornbattle is a damn blessing to this smut starved fandom !

Anon I love you. I originally was going to make this super hot and smutty but it took a more romantic sad turn. Hopefully, it doesn’t disappoint!

30: Scully finds a letter Mulder has written talking about all the things he wants to do to her

I walk around Mulder’s apartment awkwardly, wondering what I should be doing until he wakes up. It’s been a week since his little ‘trip’ in Rhode Island. He’s still out of it, mostly just exhausted. Add in some problems with his short-term memory and the mild hallucinations and he’s left his apartment only to go to the doctor under my supervision.

He’s been distant toward me, and though we haven’t discussed it, I know why. Unbidden, an image of him pointing a gun at me looking all too ready to pull the trigger comes to mind. I shake my head hoping to dispel the image.

His biggest complaint, besides my constant watchful presence, is the mandated therapy he’s been going to every day.

Getting him in the car to go is like convincing a toddler it’s time to get a shot. He drags his feet, complains to the high heavens, and even tries to fake illness to get out of it. I am currently an hour early to make sure he doesn’t try to make a quick escape and because I know how long it takes to get him to the car.

But I’m a believer in therapy so I push him. He’s had too much on his mind. The cancer has taken as much of a toll on him as it has on me and I feel like I’m watching him fade more and more each day.

I worry about what he will do once I’m gone.

I spy his therapy notebook on the table and look away. His therapist had given it to him on his first day and since then Mulder has scarcely let it out of his sight.

He knows that I wonder what is going on in his mind so he guards it jealously, worried that I will take a peak.

And he’s right because as I hear his heavy breathing from the bedroom and see his unattended journal my hands burn with the desire to read it.

I want to be inside his mind and know him.

I wonder why he is so protective of it around me.

Is there something about me in there? Maybe how he truly feels?

He kissed me in the hallway of the hospital but since then has made no moves. It makes me wonder if that kiss was just pity or desperation. At the moment it had felt significant but he’s been so hot and cold since.

With these thoughts tumbling through my head I can’t resist the journal.

This is stupid. I hate it but Dr. Collaway said he will check to see if I’ve written in it so I don’t really have a choice. He said he won’t read it. Totally private. He wants me to just write my stream of consciousness.

No one wants to be inside my head though.

I almost killed Scully. Nearly shot her.

I’ve made a decision. When I am better I’m going to tell Skinner she can’t work anymore. I will make up whatever kind of bullshit I need to, but she needs to get away from me.

I clench my teeth against the red-hot anger and it takes a moment for me to get my mind settled. The next couple pages feature Mulder listing every way he believes he’s failed me. It all makes me want to weep.

Scully.These days she’s all I think about. I need her. What will I do without her? Maybe I’ll be like one of those Sati’s who would throw themselves on their husband’s funeral pyre. There was a text I read that described the women and the practice as Sativrata. Denoting the woman who decides to die with her husband as his proctor when he’s alive and in death. I can bury myself with her because what is the point once she is gone.

This makes me cry. It also makes me angry. How dare he tie up his life in mine like that? Making his death my fault.But his beautiful words win over and I just want to hold him.The next entry is different. The writing more erratic and the words take on a different tone.

I want her so bad. Today she walked into the basement office smelling of Jasmine and I wanted to take her right there. The way her hair falls around her face so perfectly. How her pink tongue will dart out to wet her lips. I want it to wet mine. Then I’d slide my tongue down her body, exploring all of her most hidden places. Holding her in place and making her moan until she forgets the cancer. Maybe bend her over the desk right there in our office. It’d be symbolic. The place where we first met and the place we first make love.

My face is hot and I squeeze my legs together. I see that it continues on and I can’t help myself, I need to read it.

Sometimes on the road, I’ll hear her shower and consider just joining her. I’ll imagine her slippery pale body and how it would feel under my hands. Those nights I cum quickly while she’s in the shower and I try not to moan her name. When I think about her possible death I consider taking her to bed softly. Moving with her telling her all of my regrets and hopes. That I love her. I’d leave marks on her skin so that I’d be with her everywhere.

The curves of her body. Her graceful movements and confident walk.

There are days when she talks about various scientific theories and I have to fight the urge to take her wherever we are.

Her mind. It’s so perfect. She’s so perfect. So challenging and honest.

And I’m crying again. Devastated, hopeful, joyous, and turned on. The different emotions fight for control but I push forward, needing to know more.

I’ll drink from her as if she were the fountain of youth. Maybe we can heal each other. Maybe my overwhelming desire and love can drive away the disease the has it’s hold on her. I can worship between her legs with such devotion that the cancer knows I won’t let her go.

I don’t hear Mulder.

“What the hell?” He mumbles behind me.

I jump a mile and wipe my tears awkwardly away.

He snatches the journal from my hand and narrows his eyes at me.

I close mine and drop my head.

“I’m sorry Mulder.” I say quietly.

Mulder sighs heavily.

“What did you read?”

“Not much.”

“Scully.”

“Mulder… I-“

“Jesus Scully.” He looks distraught now, “I’m sorry, I know it’s inappropriate but I just- the doctor said to write my thoughts and-“ He groans, covers his face, and lowers himself to his couch.

The room is silent, both of us waiting for the other to say something.

I make the first move and move my hand to his head. I begin stroking his soft hair and take a step closer so I can lay his head against my stomach.

“None of this is your fault.” I whisper, “I’d be lost if you were not here with me. But make no mistake, if you tell Skinner I’m not fit for duty I will kill you.”

He lets out a strangled chuckle and looks up at me.

His eyes are rimmed red, wet, and filled with emotion. I can never resist those eyes.

Cupping his face I kiss his forehead.

“I was just talking big. I’d never be able to continue the X files without you.”

I continue to hold his head against me and stroke my fingers through his hair.

“About the other stuff- Scully- I’m sorry. I know it crosses the line- many lines-“

Then I can’t help it. I kneel between his legs and kiss him.

It’s chaste and sweet.

His brows drawn together he looks at me like a lost puppy.

I move closer to him and kiss him deeper this time. He moans against my lips and forces them open to accept his tongue. Taking his hands from my waist I move them to cover my breasts.

“Tell me more about the plans you have for us.”

He smiles gratefully and pulls me close again.

And maybe he’s right; maybe our love will heal me.

Stranger things have happened.

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renamusings · 3 years ago

Text

Lorena Hollis Tsula

Biography located under the cut --

APP

☆◌∘░ ❛ ─ ashley moore, twenty-seven, she/they. ❏ ⤵ ⋯ congratulations, ( LORENA HOLLIS TSULA ), you’ve been selected to be a participant in our new reality show stellar ! we thought you were a perfect candidate because you ( OPEN TO TRYING SOMETHING NEW ). we also heard that you’re from ( CALIFORNIA ) and were a(n) ( BAR MANAGER ), no wonder you applied for the show. from your tape we also gathered that you were ( OUTGOING ) and ( BLUNT ), would that be a wrong assumption ? we hope not, it’d make for good ratings. it almost seems like you’re a ( CANCER ), which seems to make perfect sense. what was it that you liked to do again ? ( HIKING & GAMING ) ? that sounds about right. remember that even with reality shows, you’ve always got a part to play and yours is ( CIGARETTES AT MIDNIGHT, DANCING WHEN NO ONE IS WATCHING, and SUN GLASSES AT NIGHT ). just make sure you lay off ( THE SMOKING ), we’d hate for it to portray negatively on camera for the audience. first impressions are everything ! ─ «

BASICS

FULL NAME: Lorena Hollis Tsula || NICKNAME(S): Ren, Rena, Lo, Los, Lolo, Lori || GENDER: FEMALE || PRONOUNS: she / they || AGE: twenty-seven || SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual || NATIONALITY: American || ETHNICITY: Mixed. African/Caucasian/Cherokee

001. ‘Home’

Lorena’s home life was always picture perfect. At least outside looking in, that is. Relationship with her parents was never a great one. Contributing to her attitude growing up, rarely giving her any attention unless it was to criticize her or just give her whatever she wanted to get her to shut up. She never had the love she deserved growing up, nor had anyone in her life to teach her right from wrong. She had to learn through hard experiences. With her parents always working (with their high stature of course) she was left to fend for herself. She had a nanny here and there growing up until her parents thought that she was old enough to watch herself, which was probably at an age far too young.

The girl often found herself getting into trouble. Not that a majority of those times weren't on purpose. Although she would HEAVILY deny it, the choices she made were largely the result of her trying to get attention from her parents. Which she rarely got due to their work, being big and important or whatever. She may not have realized it then but any attention she could get from them satisfied her.

The only time she wasn't hungry for their attention is when they were pushing their ideals onto her. They never gave her time to be an actual child when she was younger. Always scheduling her for some type of bullshit class they thought would better her talents. Piano, Equestrian, etc. Nothing ever really peaking her interest, but humoring her parents anyway.

002. ‘Personality’

Growing up, she had so much life, excitement and imagination within her. It didn't take long for that to be tainted. For a short time she went through the phase of a snobby manipulative cliche rich girl. Always getting what she wanted, no matter the consequences. she never had a care for anyone else’s well being but her own. Come to think of it, her well-being didn't matter too much either. That was until she took a step back to look at her life, not liking the outcome that had followed her actions .She did a complete 180 with her life. working on the person she wants to be now rather than the one she was before. Contrary to popular belief, she's probably one of the most caring and sensitive people you'll ever meet. She always had a smile on her face, never wanting to fall back into her old ways again. [ Maybe having slip ups here and there. more here than there tbh].

#bio

0 notes

covid19updater · 3 years ago

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COVID19 Updates: 08/23/2021

New Zealand: New Zealand extending lockdown as COVID-19 outbreak grows LINK

New York: Rochester: All area districts are giving the green light to fall sports despite the state education department recommended high-risk sports like football and cheerleading be canceled in areas of high COVID-19 transmission unless players are vaccinated. LINK

South Carolina: Berkeley Preparatory Academy announced late Sunday night it was temporarily moving to a remote learning format due to a rise in COVID-19 cases. LINK

Canada: Ontario COVID-19 Science Advisory Table member quits, alleges unreleased modelling data predict 'grim fall' LINK

US: "To direct the Secretary of Homeland Security to ensure that any individual traveling on a flight that departs from or arrives to an airport inside the United States or a territory of the United States is fully vaccinated against COVID-19, and for other purposes"

World: Bodybuilding champion 'in peak physical fitness' dies from Covid-19 complications LINK

China: China reports no new local COVID-19 cases for first time since July LINK (Bullshit)

NYC: JUST IN - NYC mandates vaccinations for all public school teachers, staff. No way to opt out. It marks the first flat-out vaccination mandate for city workers in the nation’s most populous city (AP)

UK: UK: +31,914; Last Monday: 28,438

Florida: A radiation oncologist in Tampa had to turn away a patient with metastatic brain cancer from his hospital because no beds were available. They are overwhelmed with COVID.

Australia: Vaccination rate of 70% won’t end lockdowns if Covid case numbers are too high, Doherty Institute expert says LINK

RUMINT (Washington): I tested positive for COVID this week, along with 9 of 12 fully vaxxed friends (among others), days after we attended an outdoor wedding (that required proof of vaccination) in 1 of the lowest-risk states in the country. Thankful for protection against bad outcomes but YALL- uncontrolled spread of the more transmissible #DeltaVariant means that even relatively uncommon events are going to happen in significant numbers. I’m worried about its potential to wipe out ranks of HCWs, many of us vaxxed > 7 months ago = waned immunity relative to much of the public. It’s depressing, but we need to change behaviors in response to the mounting data showing that delta presents a new level of risk. understand why the focus is on vaccination (as it should be to prevent hospitalizations & deaths & eventually reach herd immunity ) but when it comes to getting and spreading COVID, that is unfortunately now only part of the equation.

World: Evidence mounts that people with breakthrough infections can spread Delta easily - National Geographic LINK

Iowa: Iowa's COVID contact tracing efforts dwindle amid delta variant surge LINK

Texas: So many people in this Texas town got Covid-19 that the school district shut down and then the city essentially closed LINK

US: * BIDEN ADMINISTRATION ASKS U.S. SUPREME COURT TO LEAVE FEDERAL BAN ON EVICTIONS IN PLACE - COURT FILING

RUMINT (Arkansas): Anecdotal, but NOTHING is open in my rural area. Small corner store "closed due to Covid". Churches, services closed. Small town hardware store is closed. If you want anything right now, you have to drive 45 minutes.

World: New super variant 'Covid-22' could be even more dangerous than Delta, expert claims LINK

US: The U.S. Is Getting a Crash Course in Scientific Uncertainty LINK

Missouri: An Alabama man who called himself the 'vaccine police' told pharmacists at a Missouri Walmart that they will be 'executed' if they continued giving COVID-19 shots LINK

Florida: Doctor: I haven’t said anything about what’s going on with #COVID here in FL bc I haven’t had the words to describe it. The truth is we’re caring for 3x the number of patients we had last summer. 12 of our floors have been converted to covid units. We are stretched to the breaking point. We’re putting multiple patients on ventilators every day. We’re doing CPR on patients younger than me in a desperate attempt to save their life. We’re calling dozens of families every day and telling them we don’t think their loved one is going to survive this.

Mississippi: Mississippi has issued a COVID-19 isolation order that requires people who are infected with COVID-19 to self-isolate or face fines and possible jail time.

Iowa: Iowa sees surge in COVID-19 testing since TestIowa sites closed LINK

Florida: WATCH: Florida doctors stage walkout to protest number of unvaccinated Covid-19 patients coming to hospitals LINK

US: Pentagon: US military will make Covid-19 vaccines mandatory following FDA approval of Pfizer’s shot LINK

California: 25K COVID Deaths, 10K Reinfections: LA Marks Grim MilestonesCOVID-19 is among the leading causes of death in Los Angeles County at a time when "nobody ought to be dying," said Barbara Ferrer. LINK

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47pictures · 3 years ago

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“Sedona”

Road trips were always fun, even if I didn’t get to go on a lot of them. I was invited to tag along for a visit to Sedona, Arizona, along with three other people - my younger sister Janice (19), Kenneth (25), and Matt (27). I was 23-years-old and a recent college graduate. For now, there was a little free time while I applied and waited to hear back from several employers.

Kenneth and Matt were doing this for their new ‘horror’ podcast, where they covered a variety of creepy, unexplained stories and phenomena around the world. Typical things you’d expect from an amateur horror podcaster. Several of the listeners recommended they cover the topic of certain ‘hot spots’ or zones that seem to harbor paranormal and downright strange activity. So to suffice, they decided to pay the city of Sedona a visit themselves, since they were adventurous like that.

The area had a reputation for being what’s known as a ‘spiritual vortex,’ a zone where people seem to be at a sense of peace, calming, and thought to bring healing capabilities to whoever stands in it long enough.

So why use it as the topic of a horror podcast? Well, it’s also known to be the sightings of many UFOs and other paranormal events from time to time that can’t quite be explained. Supposedly, there are other ‘zones’ like this in the world. Skinwalker Ranch in Utah. Taos, New Mexico. Aokigahara forest in Japan. The Bermuda Triangle. They all have the same thing in common.

Energy. Lots of peculiar energy compared to the rest of the world. Matt and Kenneth, being the urban explorers that they were, wanted to nosedive right into the heart of Sedona’s vortexes. The main one we planned on hitting first was Bell Rock, a large butte with one helluva peak that gives a panoramic view to die for.

Usually, I’d say fuck no to things like this, but then Janice agreed to tag along. As a matter of fact, she agreed without hesitation, as she was more adventurous than I was, always getting into things, in both a good and bad way. She also got into more trouble than I did. It was just me and her growing up, and you can imagine how much blame I’d get for when something unfortunate would happen to her. She was 100-percent on board, and even wanted to hike some of the trails with the two guys while she insisted I could stay in the van if I wanted.

Nope.

I knew Kenneth and Matt well enough to assume they were good people, truly, but older sibling instincts refused to let her go by herself with two older men. Even if I was overthinking it, that just wasn’t something I could afford to risk.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I knew of van dwellers and people who’d put a lot of effort into making their home on wheels look and feel like an actual home, but damn, Matt and Kenneth weren’t playing around. It was a high-top conversion van with more room than you’d expect from the outside looking in.

They fit a couch, beanbag, tabletop and chair, computer, mini-fridge, sink, mini-oven, and stovetop all in such a compact yet roomy living space. It was also decorated with various stickers and posters, and the floral pattern curtains paired nicely with the brown wooden interior of the walls.

What really set the mood, though, were the strands of LED lights taped around the corners and along the walls, each circuit lit in a combination of colors ranging from red, blue, green, and yellow, making it look like Christmas.

Janice and I were inside the back, sorting through our things and getting settled in.

“I’m glad you decided to come along,” she mentioned.

“What, you thought I was just gonna let you go by yourself?” I remarked.

“You know I’m an adult now, right?”

“Yes, and you’re still naive.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“Think about it, me leaving you with two grown men?” I added.

“Um, have you seen the two of them?” Janice retorted. “Like, I’m just saying, I think even you could take them by yourself. Hell, even Mama could.”

“That’s because Mama can actually fight.”

“I can fight,” she argued, sounding offended.

“Eh, you talk a good talk.”

She scoffed. “Whatever, you know I can scrap when I need to.”

“Suuure.”

She hit me on the shoulder, as I teasingly smiled.

Then Kenneth came into the back where we were.

“Got everything?” he asked both of us.

“Yeah, think so,” Janice said.

“Sorry there’s not another bed for you to sleep in, Joe,” he said to me.

“Oh that’s okay, Janice will be perfectly fine on the beanbag in the corner,” I dryly humored.

“Ha-ha,” she remarked.

In one hand, Kenneth held two walkie-talkies by their antennas and raised them.

“Brought some two-way radios, just ‘cause,” said. “In case we feel like playing around or testing other points at the summit and other spots.”

“Ooh, sounds fun,” Janice sounded pleased. She then took note of the thing in his other hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” Kenneth said, raising the device for us to see.

It was a small wooden contraption in the shape of a triangle and what looked like a gemstone tied to the end of a string.

“It’s a pendulum,” he noted.

“What’s it for?” she asked.

He then walked over to the tabletop and placed the pendulum on its legs to stand freely, as the gemstone now began to swivel left and right on a single axis from the string.

“Well,” he started, “They say when you’re near a site that’s full of paranormal or high amounts of energy, the pendulum’s supposed to swing nearer in that direction or whatever.”

“Who’s they?” Janice remarked.

Kenneth looked at her then shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said frankly.

Janice laughed amusedly.

“Apparently, that’s what it does,” Kenneth went on.

“What kind of rock is that?” she pointed.

“Oh, that’s amethyst. Supposedly it wards off bad spirits, so, you know, probably a good idea to have it around while we’re camping out there.”

“I thought the vortexes harbor good energy only?”

“They do, but, you never know.”

You never know…

“Oh that’s okay,” Janice said as she clasped her hands on my shoulder. “Joe here will protect us, because our grandmother said he’s special,” she said in a mocking tone and a big smile.

Janice then walked out of the van.

“O… kay,” Kenneth replied.

But I knew exactly what she was referring to.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We made a rest stop at a gas station seemingly in the middle of nowhere. No big-name shop like Shell or Texaco, but a compact blue wooden exterior structure with two gas pumps that look something straight out of the 70s. They did, however, have a good selection of snacks and drinks on par with a 7-Eleven.

Everyone used the restroom and got something of nourishment at the least. I decided to grab a water and head back to the van before everyone else so that I could light and smoke a cigarette (or ‘cancer stick,’ as Janice referred to them as). Soon after, Matt followed, while Janice and Kenneth were still in the station looking for something to buy, or probably laughing and bullshitting. Those two, I swear. They shouldn’t shut up the whole drive.

Matt and I sat along the edge at the back of the van with the door open. From where we parked, the view of a wide range of mountains and desert terrain was ethereal, something I wasn’t used to from North Florida.

“Those two are something, aren’t they?” Matt said as he cracked open his Red Bull.

“Hmm,” I scoffed, taking a hit of my cigarette.

“He is on the older tip, though, so…”

“I don’t care who she sees, if that’s what it is,” I responded. “Kenneth’s all right, I think.”

“No bad vibes from him?”

I shook my head. “Nope,” then took another hit.

“No bad vibes from me?”

I turned to him and glared into his eyes. The intention was to make him uncomfortable. My humor was dry like that. After a few seconds, I backed off.

“No,” I said.

Matt chuckled. “That’s good to know,” he said.

“At least I don’t think so.”

“Would you have tagged along if you thought otherwise?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Janice tagged along, so I did.”

“And if she didn’t?”

“If she didn’t what?”

“If she didn’t decide to come along, would you have still?”

I took another hit from my cigarette, taking in and exhaling the menthol, thinking of how nicely to put this.

“Honestly, probably not,” I answered. It was really definitely not, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“At least you’re honest,” Matt noted.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing against you or Kenneth or your guys’ podcast. It’s just… I don’t like to play with energies like that.”

Matt furrowed his brow. “Energies?”

I nodded. “The vortex?”

“But it’s supposed to be peaceful. You know, a ‘positive’ energy.”

“Yeah, it may be peaceful for some, hell, even most. But for others… you just never know.”

Matt paused, tapping his foot on the ground, then took a sip of his drink. After a while, he spoke again.

“Have you had bad experiences before?” he asked.

I looked at him. “No,” I answered.

“You believe in… possession? Or being overtaken by another force?”

“I believe in protecting your aura. At all times. Like you would your own life.” Matt nodded with content. “My grandmother, before she passed, told me when I was younger that me and a few other people in the family had ‘the gift.’”

“The gift?” Matt said.

“Like a… not necessarily psychic or anything like that, but that me and the others were just more… sensitive to certain energies. Vibrational frequencies, they say.” I shrugged. “I don’t know how true it all actually is, though. I don’t believe in absolutes. Angels, demons, gods, divine intervention. But that grey area always tests my faith every now and then…”

Then I saw the look in Matt’s eyes. Maybe he was wary or maybe he was regretting me coming along. Wasn’t too sure.

“Does Janice have the gift, too?” he asked.

“My grandmother says no,” I answered. “Then again, she never seemed to take a liking to Janice, for whatever reason. She seemed to cherish me more. I’m not surprised Janice is the way she is.”

“How’s that?”

“Just… free-spirited. Unhinged. Spiritual. Into yoga. Trying to find an inner peace and being one with the universe. Stuff like that. I see it as a way of compensating for our grandmother’s indifference. Basically a ‘fuck you’ to her.”

“Wow. What do you think might happen if you get near the vortex?” he asked.

I slowly shook my head. “I have no idea.“

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We hit the road again. About another 4 hours before we’d make it to Bell Rock. Janice and I played cards for a bit, chit-chatted here and there, and Kenneth, Matt, and I rotated between taking turns driving the van.

Eventually, we made it to the first stop, and found a good spot to camp out not too far from Bell Rock, according to Matt. We decided to take a short hike around the area, take some pictures and vlogs, etc.

Sedona is in a league of its own, I thought to myself. It didn’t seem quite like the typical American city I was used to. It was akin to stepping on Mars. Rock, sand, mountains, complemented with patches of grass and cacti. It felt like I was in another world entirely.

As we walked, I took note of a tall saguaro cactus surrounded by other shorter cacti and flowers. I told Janice it’d be a nice backdrop for a photo shoot. I had the good camera while she just had her phone.

She stood next to the tall plant - taller than her - and she began to strike various silly and some very Instagram-worthy poses.

“I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. Photographer,” she played around.

“My, my, madame, you’ve gotten fat,” I teased in a heavy French accent.

“Oh please!”

She really wasn’t fat in the slightest, I just liked to mess with her from time to time. She definitely was in better shape than the rest of us. I couldn’t knock her for that.

As I snapped various pictures of her, taking different angles, poses, trying to get better lighting, I got down on one knee, pointing the lens at just the right angle, finding the perfect shot.

“That’s money right there,” I commented.

“Well shit, watcha waitin’ for?” Janice exclaimed, holding her smile.

But before I could snap the photo, a loud ringing noise emerged in both of my ears. It crescendoed, then lowered, then raised in volume again, a pulsating sort of sensation. Regardless, the sound was distracting and unusual. Were my ears ringing? Probably, but they never rang like this.

“Joe?” Janice said impatiently.

I lowered the camera, where she could now see my face was disgruntled.

“You okay?” she asked, concerned.

I stood up. “Do you hear that?” I said.

“Hear what?”

“That sound. That ringing.”

She looked puzzled. “No…”

I turned my head in every which way across the desert, unsure of what I would even be looking for until suddenly, it stopped. The ringing was gone, and it fell silent. Only thing I could hear was the slight breeze of wind.

“Are you fucking with me?” she said.

“What? No, why would I be?” I said, seriously. I messed with her a lot, but not like that. Never pranked her once in her entire life.

She chuckled and walked past me to catch up with the other two, patting me on the shoulder as she did so. “Never mind, ‘gifted one.’”

I stood there for a moment. I didn’t understand what the heck just happened, but decided to brush it off and keep on moving down the trail.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I don’t remember how long I’d been asleep, but I woke up and found myself alone in the van. It was nighttime outside. Worried, I quickly got up and looked outside the window to check and see if maybe they were in the front.

Nobody.

I went out and saw that we were parked atop a sandy hill. They’d set up a small camp of some sort with three pull-out chairs and a large mat laid flat, which I already knew was Janice’s yoga mat. In the distance, I saw the three of them down about 23 yards away walking towards a mountain top. Could that be it? The vortex? I thought I told this chick not to leave without me, especially once they started the hike.

I saw Janice turn back to look, and she noticed me.

“Joe!” she called to me. I shook my head. “Come on! We’re gonna take some videos of the vortex!”

I thought about it. Really thought about it. At this point, I just decided F it. Something told me that she’d be all right. After my many objections to Janice going by herself with the two, finally, my intuition spoke to me. My gut never lies, so I knew I could trust it. Only this one time, though.

"I’m good,” I declined. “Go on without me.”

“You sure, bro?” Kenneth asked.

“I’ll stay behind and watch the van.”

“Ah, no one’s gonna steal it.”

I cocked my brow. “You sure about that? It’s a nice van.”

“Nobody’s gonna steal that junk.”

Matt hit him on the shoulder. “Fuck you,” he said, and Kenneth laughed.

I turned and started walking back towards the van.

“Whatever,” Janice spoke. “But you’re coming to take pictures with me when the sun comes up, ya hear?”

I raised my hand and gave her a firm thumbs up.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I laid on the comfy bed in the van with my noise-canceling headphones over my ears as I listened to music. The inside Christmas lights kept the area illuminated. Through the window, the night sky bathed in stars of various different shapes. I recognized the Sagittarius constellation, just aside from Gemini, but couldn’t make out much more from this view.

Abruptly, my ears began to ring again. The same one from before. It grew louder in pitch the more I listened. So loud to the point where I couldn’t even hear the music anymore. I removed my headphones and scratched and rubbed against my ears, wincing at the sound. The noise wasn’t exactly painful, but grew noticeably more discomforting.

I got up to look around, to see if maybe there was a device inside that might be the source of the noise, but it was hard to tell the direction from which it came. I checked the walkie-talkie to see if that could be it, but pressing it to my ear, I still heard the sound radiating from elsewhere.

I stopped for a moment to listen, and when I did, I realized it wasn’t exactly a ring, but more in resemblance to a hum. Crossing the line between the stroke of a chord of an instrument… or the audible sound of something else entirely that I couldn’t decipher at the moment.

Just as suddenly as the humming initiated, it ceased at once. The van fell silent. Dead silent.

I stepped outside again, finding it unusual that the same volume from within the vehicle matched the desert. Pure silence. It was almost distracting to all five of my senses. My body was confused.

I saw the three of them in the distance still, nearing the vortex, about to reach the edge any minute now to begin their ascent.

I decided to sit in one of the foldout chairs in front of the van and light a 'cancer stick.’ I gazed at the night sky where I could now see the full layout of the celestial bodies above. Breathtaking, needless to say. Out here where there were no city lights, the entire display of stars and constellations were there for us to take in. If anything, this was worth the long trip.

The pendulum sat just beyond where myself and the other chairs stood, in place of where I figured a campfire should’ve been. I was surprised to see that it swiveled just barely left and right.

“Hmm,” I laughed internally, taking another drag from my cigarette.

As I sat and smoked, I noticed that not only was there no noise, but likewise, even so much as a tiny breeze was nonexistent. I had no sensation of the air around me, no feel for any particular temperature, neither hot nor cold, dry or damp. It was as if I were sitting in a vacuum. How was the pendulum moving, now that I think about it? Couldn’t do that without the wind, right?

I took note of the smoke as I exhaled, following its trail. Bizarrely, the smoke didn’t merely dissolve into the air, but shot in a clear pathway upwards in a stream, curving inward in the direction south of me. Yet still, I felt no wind blowing in that direction. No wind whatsoever.

The humming resumed. Thrown off, the hairs on my neck raised at the abrupt return.

I could hear it clearly and audibly as I did in the van like it was right next to me. I looked around again to see if there was any possible direction for the sound to be emitting from again, but it was still very hard to tell. It was so strange.

When I looked down at the pendulum again, I grew wide-eyed.

The crystal stopped swinging entirely, and instead was pulled completely in one direction, suspended in an impossibly still state. I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but I went over and kneeled to get a closer look, and saw that it did seem to be pulled at one clear angle, as though it were attracted to an invisible force - or a magnetic field of sorts.

I turned to face the direction the crystal was, which pointed directly to the van, and was taken aback by the lights inside. They each began to flash in a sequence that made it appear as though they were looping in a complete circle inside - a phi phenomenon. All of the colors - red, blue, yellow, green - alternated and moved down the line of each circuit one by one.

Could they do that? I hadn’t played with the settings or seen Matt show us any other sorts of tricks and sequences it could perform. Either way, how could they just do that by themselves? Did he set it from his phone? Impossible, I thought. They were way too far away for the Bluetooth to even work. Even still, it wouldn’t make sense for him to do so.

I turned to face the three in the distance again, seeing that they were now starting the climb up the rock. It was right then and there that I noticed something very particular about the structure as a whole. It had twin peaks at the summit, identical in shape, almost like cone pyramids, as the base took the form of a rocky pyramid. There also was hardly anything surrounding the vicinity. No grass, cacti, anything. Only barren desert and rock. Around where we parked and set up our camping site only lie a few remnants of any sort of vegetation. Then I knew…

We weren’t at Bell Rock at all. This was the wrong spot.

I looked back down at the pendulum, and to my shock, it was now pointed downwards at full rest. Not even swinging. I turned to face the van and saw that the lights were now completely off. My eyes narrowed. I put out my cigarette, dropping it to the ground and stomping out the bud.

Hopefully at least one of the walkie-talkies Kenneth brought was in the van. I opened the door to the back and entered, shutting it behind me. It was too dark now with the lights off, so I used my phone flashlight to search for it. Bingo, one was sitting on the table, and I grabbed and pressed the push-to-talk button.

“Janice, can you hear me?” I spoke.

I waited a moment for a response. Nothing. I pressed it again.

“Janice, can you hear me?” I said loudly and clearly.

A few moments passed. Then her voice sounded from the other end, readable but very staticky.

“What’s up, chickenbutt?” she said back.

I rolled my eyes. “Hey, I don’t think we’re at the right spot.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, I don’t think this is Bell Rock.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just look at the peak. It’s nothing like it. It’s not even shaped like it.”

“But Joe, I feel it. Like, we haven’t even reached the top yet, but I swear, I feel its energy, Joe. It’s real. It’s… it’s alive. It’s beautiful.”

I’m sure there was no doubt about it. I’m glad that whatever energy she was taking in felt good on her end, but whatever energy that began to overtake what now surrounded the campsite didn’t match hers. It felt wrong. I knew something wasn’t right. Something felt off…

“We’ve been climbing and… so f… ar it’s… been… ve… er… y…”

She was breaking up badly, as more static overpowered her transmission. Were they too far? I don’t know, but the reach should’ve been well within good range from where we were from each other.

“Janice?” I transmitted.

No answer.

Screw this. I reached for my phone in my pocket and decided to just call her instead. I waited as it dialed, putting the phone on speaker. Lo and behold, I heard her phone ring from inside the van. She left it behind.

“Fucking idiot,” I muttered.

I hung up the phone and dialed for Matt, when suddenly another transmission came through the radio.

It wasn’t Janice’s voice.

Under a heavy load of static, the hum faintly emerged.

In the corner of my eye, further from me towards the sink, a single red light remained on. It was the only thing illuminated inside the van. Then it shut off, but was quickly replaced by the one next to it, giving the illusion that the light was moving. It did the same thing again, inching closer towards my direction, as though it had a life of its own. As it inched over, the hum grew more and more resonant, feeling closer.

The single red orb trailed down the string of circuits until eventually, it was right across from me from where I stood. The light remained for a moment, burning brightly as I locked eyes on it.

And just like that, the humming ceased again, and the light suddenly died, fading to black.

In the blink of an eye, red lights filled every circuit along the van, a crimson luminescence engulfing the interior around me. Startled, I quickly tried to push the button again to call the others, but a loud error beep kept emitting along with a red light on the radio, letting me know that someone else was currently using the channel. I heard nothing, though.

Then the lights rapidly strobed in quick bursts of terrifyingly disorienting red flashes, as the humming returned louder than before, like the unified chant of hundreds of people around me.

Panicked now, I darted out of there and stood at the edge of the hill, waving my arms to get the three’s attention.

“Janice!” I called.

Curious, I looked at the pendulum again, seeing that it was now swaying side-to-side in a frantic motion, going haywire.

I glanced at the three turning back to face my direction. I doubt we’d be able to hear exactly what the other was saying. From what I could make out, Janice pulled out her binoculars. As she did so, I began motioning with hand signals for them to call it off.

I then jumped at the sound of Janice’s bloodcurdling scream across the distance.

I turned to the van. The red lights continued to emit for a moment, only for all but two of them to remain. From where I stood, they were positioned in a way that looked as though it were two glaring eyes peering directly at me.

Fearful, I slowly stepped back, eyes still fixated on the ones now staring at me. The amplitude of the lights began to grow, and diagonal lines curved inward from the glare, like the deadly eyes of a viper. I knew I didn’t have astigmatism. What I was seeing was unreal.

Janice’s voice transmitted through the radio again, clearer more than ever this time.

“Joe! Just run! If you can hear me, just run!”

I wasn’t paying attention as I kept stepping away, as the incline became too steep from where I stepped off. Before I knew it, I tripped and started to fall backwards, rolling violently down the hill.

Once I’d managed to stop myself, I forced myself up and turned to look behind at the van again. Those eyes… they kept staring into my soul. They were captivating and enticing. But I knew that if I stood there, I probably wouldn’t make it…

I ran towards my sister and the other two, as I saw the three of them were now climbing back down and racing my way also. I ran faster than I ever had before. I don’t know what was back there or what energy was inside the van, but I refused to look again for another second as I kept running towards the three of them.

When I finally reached them, Janice ran to me and tightly hugged me, squeezing the air from my lungs.

“Thank you, God,” she cried. “Oh, thank you.”

“What the hell happened?” Kenneth said.

I shook my head frantically. “I-I don’t know.”

“Did you see something?” Matt asked Janice.

She didn’t answer either one of them. She instead kept hugging me tightly, relieved that I was okay. And to think I was more worried about her.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We decided that it was time to go, and hit the road again very shortly after. Janice and I just wanted to get the hell out of there, and undoubtedly, so did Matt and Kenneth after us causing such a commotion. We contemplated whether we should keep on going with the trip and try to make it to the real Bell Rock, but it was still undecided. At this point, we had enough adventure, and likewise, Matt and Kenneth enough spooks for their podcast for sure.

After some time on the road again, we’d both calmed down, and Janice finally let up the nerve to talk.

“You scared me back there,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. I think you might’ve saved my life. I don’t know how, but I just feel it.”

Janice stirred, nervously rubbed her arm. It was what she always did when she was troubled by something.

“Why’d you scream?” I asked.

She grew fearful again. I didn’t know if she would even tell, her mouth opening, then closing, then opening again, until finally mustering the courage to speak.

“Back at the butte, when we were climbing and you called to me, I looked through the binoculars and saw something in the van behind you.”

Chills waved throughout my body.

“The lights kept alternating and moving in a weird circle in the van,” she continued. “Matt said that they were supposed to do that. They were all supposed to just stay whatever color they were. And then they turned solid red… and then I saw a figure in the van. Like, a silhouette of someone… or something. It was peaking back at you. Back at me, too, I think.”

“Jesus…” I muttered.

“The lights just blinked and then it was fucking gone. Whatever it was, it just disappeared. I know I’m not crazy, Joe. I know what I saw.”

I now realized the answer to Matt’s question earlier when I told him about my grandmother’s premonition about me, and as to whether Janice shared the same power that the others in the family also held. The answer was yes. She had the gift. I could only hear it, but she could see it. Whatever presence was near me in the van the whole time, she was fully conscious that it was there.

“I believe you,” I assured.

#nosleep #reddit #horror #scifi #scifi story #supernatural #mystery #mystery story #thriller #story #short story

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