#this is taking me back to when i worked at second cup at union station in 12th grade (2015)

[torreshalstead]

The day that everything changed

Summary - The day that Hailey Upton’s life was thrown off its axis started off like any other.

‘I’m from Robbery-Homicide. There’s been a Robbery and a Homicide here. So I’d appreciate it if you vacated my crime-scene.’

Notes - Today marks a year since I posted by first fic and now I’ve published almost 40k words which is just insane for me. This is also my 10th published fic so wanted to do something a little different to mark the occasion. This is a sort-of introspective fic into Hailey during Fagin. I hope you enjoy! AO3 Link

The day that Hailey Upton’s life was thrown off its axis started off like any other.

She woke up to her alarm as she normally did. She had a black coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. Put on her suit pants and blouse, clipped her badge and gun to her belt and headed out to work.  Just as she was reaching the district, she heard the call over the radio about a bank robbery in progress at North Shiller Credit Union at 680 North Michigan and so she clipped her radio on her hip, jumped in her car and headed to the scene.

There were already a number of police when she arrived, walking through the doors she spoke to the officer there.

I need you outside to move the yellow tape back 50 yards and roll in the crime lab. Now.

It was only then she noticed the plain clothes officers who were on her scene.  This was her crime scene and she was sure to let them know. 

Detective Upton. Robbery Homicide

The older man, clearly the ranking officer, let her know in no uncertain terms that it was his detectives that recovered evidence and saved a woman's life and they would be running point.  The two detectives in question were a young brown haired female cop, who, if Hailey had to guess, would estimate to be her age and a taller man, slightly older but still fairly young, who was clearly trying not to laugh at the situation.  She wasn’t sure what was funny so she paid him no notice.

I’m from Robbery-Homicide.  There’s been a Robbery and a Homicide here.  So I’d appreciate it if you vacated my crime scene.

When she had returned to her station after examining the crime scene, she had found out that the Sergeant she had met, Hank Voight, had gone above her and had decided that his Intelligence unit would be taking the case.  As a young female detective she was used to older male cops trying to push past her and ignore her and her ideas.  But Hailey knew her own worth.  This robbery was one in a long line that she had been chasing for weeks and she was damned if she was letting someone else take it from her. 

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She knew the Intelligence Unit worked out of the 21st district so she headed across town.

Greeted by a formidable looking desk sergeant who Hailey was sure she recognised but couldn’t quite place her, she demanded to be let upstairs to see Sergeant Voight.

Looking back on it now, her first mistake of the day was not recognising Trudy Platt when she entered the district.  Her second was when she accidentally knocked her coffee cup so the desk sergeant was covered in hot coffee, not exactly sealing the deal for why she should be the one to take the case.

You got balls trying to steal my case.

All the officers in the room, which when she scanned it included the male and female cops she had seen earlier, an older gentleman sat in the corner, a tall black cop and a fresh faced white cop who looked to be finding the whole thing hilarious.  The young man from the bank was staring right at her but she couldn’t figure what emotion he was currently experiencing, a similar expression from the bank was pulling his lips into a tight line.

The commander called her and Voight into Voight’s office and with just a small look back at Trudy covered in coffee, she followed suit.

The negotiations didn’t exactly go as planned and she was ordered to hand over her files to Voight’s team, not an idea that she was particularly thrilled about.  And she made sure the Sergeant was aware of this as she exited his office.

You know. I always heard you were a son a bitch, now I know it’s true.

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Thinking about it, handing over her files was fine; she knew she’d get a call from them any minute because her chicken scratch handwriting was impossible to read.  Her mother had always chastised her about it in school but being left-handed and having to write with an ink pen had always meant her handwriting was either smudged or a mess; she had settled on a mess.  

Sure enough the phone call had come through and she had headed back down to the 21st.

She should have expected the sass from the desk sergeant, after all - she had spilt coffee all over her.  She wasn’t sure anyone had ever called her Detective Goldilocks before, but she smirked, she had definitely been called worse.

Trudy Platt. Worked Robbery-Homicide like 15 years ago?

As she looked at Platt, Hailey’s brain was flooded with images from that night.  When the woman in front of her had made her feel safe.  Perhaps the safest she had ever felt.  Her thoughts were interrupted at this moment by one of the Intelligence officers telling her that Voight was waiting for her, so with a final look back at the bewildered desk sergeant, she followed him upstairs.

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Spann can’t physically rob banks anymore, so I think he recruited teenages from his old neighbourhood to do it for him, life Fagin.

It was a breath of fresh air to be discussing her ideas with someone who seemed to be taking on board everything she was saying.  Voight had called her in because it was her who understood the case and had the missing piece, and he believed in the connections she had made.  

Next thing she knew she was driving down to Spann’s car lot in the passenger seat of his car.

Lavar Spann, we have a warrant to search your business and any records found within.

Searching through the records, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for but Voight was taking the lead on talking with Spann giving her the chance to look through things whilst being able to keep an ear on the conversation.

I think the job skills you’re teaching is bank robbery.

Men like Spann made her teeth itch.  Using children. Putting kids in harm's way and allowing them to take the fall for something he had orchestrated.  These were the cases that they had to solve.  To ensure the correct person would go away and do the time.  Voight seemed to be on the same page as the conversation took a slightly darker turn when he threatened to return and have a less civil discussion. Hailey glanced away at this, if that was the way Voight wanted to handle this case then she wasn’t going to argue.  She needed it solved too.

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Back at the district, the team and Hailey were gathered around the board trying to fit the rest of the pieces together whilst Voight and the female detective, Lindsay, were in his office requesting a warrant from the DA.  Their request seemed to have been denied when they both left the office and joined the discussion at the board with less than positive expressions on their faces.  The decision was made to go and stake out Spann and try to catch him in the act, with some actionable evidence the DA would be unable to refuse the request for a warrant again.  When Voight offered for her to join the stakeout, she nodded and agreed.  She needed this.

Sense of humour.  Don’t get that much in my current unit.

The conversation turned as it often did, especially when an older detective or officer was involved, to her meritorious promotion.  She was aware she was young for a detective, and not as many years on the job as others in her position but she also knew she had earned that promotion.  The older detective, Olinksy, tried to dig a little deeper as to whether it was an earned promotion or, as most people assumed, she had been given it as a favour.

I was undercover for a year. So, put that in your pipe and smoke it.

The younger detective, Halstead, clearly wanted to know more about the undercover case and if she was honest, she wished she could talk about it.  It would stop the questions dead in their tracks if she could just reveal everything that had happened and everything she had had to do in that case.  But unfortunately she couldn’t.

No offence but this is the first time in the back of your van.

She wasn’t normally one to flirt on the job but she couldn’t deny there was something about Detective Halstead that meant what she was saying was coming out much flirtier than it normally would.  I mean sure, he was cute, hot even in an unobjective kind of way and he was definitely giving back some of the sass he was receiving.  After this case was solved she would head back to Robbery-Homicide and not see him again.  So a bit of harmless flirting never hurt anyone.

They spotted a young kid talking to Spann and then climbing onto a motorbike, a Kawasaki, the same type that was being used by the other teenagers who robbed the banks.

We got to go after him!

When Olinksy shut her down, initially she was put out.  This was the perfect opportunity.  They had proof that Spann knew the kids involved and was clearly giving them instructions or orders.  But on reflection, his assessment that they couldn’t follow a motorbike in a van was correct.  She just wanted to solve this case so badly.

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That teenager we saw on a dirt bike when we were in the van - Sammy Ray.

The pieces had started to fit together.  She had found a POD camera which showed that Sammy had been spotted a block away from the house where the two brothers had been shot and she had got a statement from a neighbour who had said she had seen Sammy running out of the house and jumping straight onto his bike.  Checking through the records she found Sammy had a history of violence and now did errands for Spann.  It had all clicked and she relayed the information to the team with a small smile on her face.  Not a smile for the case but a smile for the fact they were so close to being able to pin this on Spann and get him put away for good.  

When the Sergeant congratulated her on her work, she felt a swell of pride surge through her chest.  She tried not to let it show.  She knew from her current unit that pride in oneself wasn’t always a favourable quality.

The team returned with Sammy Ray in tow and Detective Lindsay pulled her in to question him alongside her.  Her old boss never let her do any interviews so she wasn’t going to turn down this opportunity.

The pair worked well together.  Lindsay took the lead and then nodded when she wanted Hailey to jump in.

That was smart, using a gauge.  We couldn’t trace the ammo.

The kid was tough to crack.  Hailey and Erin could both tell that Spann had his hooks deep into the kid.  He felt a sense of loyalty to him for whatever reason and they couldn’t break through it.

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Halstead said you wanted to see me.

Voight had called her back into his office after the case was closed.  She had heard what he had done for Corey Jenkins and even with the rough start they had had, she was impressed by his loyalty to the kid.

I don’t know many, if any, cops that would do that.

Instead of trying to make what he had done a big thing or make it all about him.  The Sargeant just gave her a small nod and so she turned to leave.  Hailey had not been expecting the next statement to come out of his mouth.  The offer of a job in Intelligence.  She nodded and suppressed a smile.

Open or close.

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You don’t remember me, do you?

Hailey knew she looked different than she had done then, hell she had barely recognised Trudy when she had entered the district the previous day.  But she needed to explain.  She needed to tell Trudy who she was and what the Sergeant had done for her.  Her life had changed course that day and it was thanks to the woman standing in front of her.  And she deserved to know that.  As she started to explain what had happened on February 9th 2003, she could tell Trudy was starting to remember that evening.  And although it had probably been just a regular shift for Trudy Platt, for Hailey, it was everything.

I became a cop because of you.

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When Hailey accepted the temporary position in Intelligence, she thought it would be a good experience, a chance to shine somewhere new and get out from under McGrady.  She was looking forward to working with Trudy closer, after all, it was thanks to her she had joined the academy in the first place.  She thought it would be a couple of weeks whilst the missing officer was on furlough.  She never expected that the team would become her family.  She would go to hell and back for any one of them and knew they would do the same for her.  The tall man with the smirk would become her husband.  He would change her in ways she hadn’t even realised yet.  Make her willing and able to accept love again and to be able to love in return.  And yet here she was, a permanent member of Intelligence, married to her partner and best friend and forever thankful for the day she walked into the bank and everything changed.

[fullgrimdark]

The Caffeine Heresy - Part 1

(click here for Part 2)

Unwelcome News.

Midnight Arrival.

Dark Magic to Heal the Pain.

The Pride.

The Fall.

"I have heard whispers that the Emperor will be paying us his visit soon," Fulgrim said, a delicately painted porcelain cup lifted to his mouth. He took a sip of the dark black coffee, and eyed his friend's reaction to the news.

Ferrus coughed in surprise, quickly setting down a silver mug of his own. He anxiously wiped his face, pale hands contrasting sharply with his dark skin - years of vitiligo at work. With eyes wide he examined Fulgrim's beautiful features for any hint of humor. "Well, I suppose you'd know wouldn't you?" Ferrus said, and reclaimed his mug of bitter black. He took a sip, his craggy face warming from the steam. 

The pair sat opposite, in the second floor of Ferrus's esteemed café - Iron Hands. Weapon racks adorned the warm wooden walls, gleaming silver in the firelight. Fulgrim took his gaze from his cup to the crackling fire, and sighed. He set his cup on its saucer and placed it neatly on the iron side table. 

Fulgrim, the Phoenician, the most beautiful face in the coffee industry, looked to his dear friend Ferrus with a knowing eye. "Perhaps you'll win this year, my dear?" 

"I'll win alright, I'll show the critic a real cuppa joe," Ferrus downed the rest of his fresh cup, caring not for the temperature. He pointed the mug at Fulgrim, "I'll even beat you at your own game, I will." 

Fulgrim folded and unfolded his hands, "There's nearly infinite competition in this city, who's to say which cafes he will even visit?" 

"My shop was in the bloody papers this year, if he don't come here it's proof of his favoritism. He came here once, damn once, and didn't even care to make comment 'cept that there's 'room for improvement,' I'll show him a damn fine cup of coffee, I will, you'll see Phoenician." Ferrus leaned forward in his chair and took a poker for the fire. As he stoked it, he continued, "You shouldn't even be in the running, everybody knows the stories, how before he started traveling the world, when he was just a young man, he owned the first shop, which," he rolled his pale eyes to Fulgrim, "is now yours. Emperor's Children, he called it, and you'd not a thought to change it." 

"I think the name is funny," Fulgrim sat back in his chair, trying not to take insult at his dear friend's lashing. "And has a sort of pretty ring to it." 

"Pretty's right," Ferrus set the stoker back in its holder with an iron clang. He sat back and looked to Fulgrim, realizing when he saw the look on his friend's face the compliment he'd paid. He huffed and scratched at his short hair, looking away from the elegantly painted face which gazed on him without a care for how Ferrus saw himself. 

Fulgrim took a steadying breath, trying to will away the pounding of his heart. Fulgrim had trouble when with his stubborn friend, he wanted him to know how much he cared for him, how highly he thought of him, but Ferrus was blind to his affection. The owner of the Iron Hands was thick, and Fulgrim loved him for it. He loved him for his iron will, for the quiet care he put into everything he did. He looked to his friend, whose scarred face was twisted in thought, yellows and oranges from the fire caressing his skin with light. "You don't have anything to prove to the Emperor, dear," Fulgrim sighed. "Your café is perfect, if he can't see it he's a fool." 

Ferrus kept his gaze to the fire and said quietly, "Fool or not he's got the industry wrapped around his little finger. A bad review again might do me in." 

☕☕☕

The moon pierced through the black sky above Union Station. He was on the last bus in from the States, with little more than a suitcase at his side. He didn't need much, he'd everything in himself, from the muscle memory of his fingers, to the endless well of know-how he'd learned. He was certified by the American Specialty Coffee Association, but he didn't need the certificate to prove that he was the best in the game. 

Lucius breathed in the cool night air, and began his hunt for the finest cup of coffee in Toronto. 

He came across a Circle K, a patch of yellow Illumination at the corner of the dark city streets. He stepped inside, smoothing a hand over his long white braid to catch any loose hairs. The man at the counter glowered at him, and Lucius met the gaze and held it. 

"Sign on the door said you have coffee here," Lucius said, "or did that just mean you've got Starbucks in the fridge." 

The man behind the counter looked at him through long, oily black hair. Lucius thought he looked like a wraith, some undead ghoul, and it didn't help the image when the man replied only by raising a boney finger and pointing to the back wall. Lucius followed the point, and saw behind shelves of candy and snacks, that in the back there was a small cafe. Lucius didn't expect much, and he didn't bother to thank the ghoul behind the counter. He wove past the isles gracefully until he found himself at the half-counter. The barista, if you could call him that, was just as dour and goth as the cashier. 

"You have espresso?" Lucius asked, one brow raised. 

The guy jerked his thumb to a little menu sign, and leaned back in his stool until he was on the two hind legs of it. 

Lucius put a hand on his hip, seeing that the menu read as follows: 

Night Lords Coffee

Dark roast $2

Light roast $2

Coffee moka $3

Hot chocolate $2

Espresso $3

Hot Apple Cider $2 

"So you do have espresso?" Lucius looked back to the... barista.

He shrugged and slammed his stool back down, "No, machines broken, so no mocha's either," the guy reached behind him and took a piece of chalk to cross out espresso and coffee moka. 

Lucius's mouth gaped a moment, "Then just a cup of your light will serve," he said finally, appalled. This could well have just been a stand, a K-Cup machine, better yet, Lucius thought, just have a line of self-serve roasts, same as the soda.  

The guy took one of the glass pots and a styrofoam cup, and poured a too-hot cup before giving it to Lucius over the half counter. Lucius handed him a five, and the guy opened the drawer and handed him back two coins. Lucius took the coins curiously, "No tax?" 

"Tax is for plastic," he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the counter, "Anyway, mister. Lottery'll be drawn in the morning so if you want your tickets you'd better get them tonight." The barista nodded his head towards the front, where Lucius saw a woman standing, brightly colored papers in her hand, waiting expectantly as the wraith-cashier began to work at a machine. A tinny sang out a cheer, winner! would you like to play again? 

Lucius pocketed the coins and muttered, "I think I'm alright," before he pulled his suitcase out of the odd little 24 hour convenience. 

The coffee was fine, surprisingly so, and it warmed him in the chill night air. It was late summer, but Lucius found himself cold in the dark with not much more than his long, thin leather jacket for warmth. It was a favorite of his, cut neatly and embellished with golden thread which stood out against the dark purple hide. It didn't provide much protection from the cold, however, he knew he'd need a new one before winter fell in Toronto.

He caught a night bus through the city to his AirB&B. He'd find a place to live soon, he'd get it all sorted out. For now, his savings and funding would get him where he needed to go, and once he found an appropriate job he'd be set. On the bus, he saw the city pass, even saw a couple of darkened café windows. None looked too impressive to him. Particularly the repetitive Roubute Guilliman's, which appeared to be on nearly every street, blue cups littered on the sidewalk, and to Lucius's dismay, slurped loudly by the fellow on the bus seat adjacent to him. Lucius slumped in his seat, downed the rest of the styrofoam coffee, and waited for his stop to be called. 

☕☕☕

The golden sun was peeking through the red curtains, and Khârn knew he was going to be late for work, but he couldn't bring himself to move from the couch. The migraine was too much this morning. So he laid still, hands on his forehead, willing away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. 

The footsteps coming from the bedroom were like gunshots to his skull, and Khârn groaned, distracting from the pain only momentarily. 

The footstep-gunshots stopped suddenly, before they became quick tip toes accompanied by a worried voice. "Oh no, love, is it very bad this morning?" Argel Tal asked, his deep voice husky with sleep. He gingerly placed his hands on Khârn's thick biceps, but pulled them away when Khârn jerked beneath him. 

Khârn peeked at his partner through his fingers, and nodded. Argel Tal was annoyingly there for him, his partner's worry only making the migraine worse. 

Argel Tal spoke softly, needing to clear his throat but not wanting to make any loud noises, "Waiting for the medicine to kick in?" 

Khârn nodded again, and closed his fingers, aching for darkness. His partner's presence didn't go away, and he could hear him muttering quietly. He was praying, Khârn knew, which annoyed him even more, though he didn't have the strength to protest. Especially so, since the damn prayers usually seemed to work. After a few quiet minutes together, the migraine began to recede into the back of Khârn's mind, and he could open his eyes again. He met Argel Tal's gaze, and his partner unclasped his hands with a bright smile, and put them down on Khârn's hand. Khârn threaded his fingers through his partner's, and leaned up to close the gap between them. They kissed briefly, lips warm against each other, before a wave of nausea passed through Khârn and he needed to lay back down. He groaned and put a hand over his ear. 

Argel Tal put his hand over Khârn's a moment, before he pushed his hand back and gently threaded his fingers through the long dreadlocks trailing from Khârn's fevered skull. 

"I'll make us breakfast," Argel Tal said, and unlaced his fingers from his partner to make way for the kitchen.

Khârn protested, "You'll be late too." 

"Lorgar won't mind," Argel Tal ran the faucet for water, and drank deeply. "The Word Bearers will go on without me." 

Khârn grumbled, but was thankful for his partner. He watched him work from the couch, strong, inked muscles rippling as he went through the simple tasks of breakfast. Khârn liked Argel Tal's tattoos, the delicate black lines so beautifully etched onto the toned stretches of skin. Goat horns, skulls, runes, insect wings, and other things decorated his once-God-fearing partner. Though, Khârn had not known Argel Tal when he worshiped the morning sun, that was before his time. Khârn suspected he wouldn't have liked Argel very much back then, and he grinned a bit from the couch, thinking that black magic suited the man much better. 

"You're smiling," Argel Tal sang, knowing, and glanced over his shoulder. "You must be feeling much better."

"I love you," Khârn mumbled, and turned on the couch to clutch a pillow to his chest. 

Argel Tal grinned to himself, and lifted and poured coffee from their French press. It steamed and bubbled, and he gave a silent prayer for health over the black liquid. He set the press down gently and took the coffee mug to his partner, who sat up to accept the mug. Argel Tal leaned down and kissed Khârn's forehead, and said, "I love you too." 

He straightened up and said, "Now, let's get some food in you and get you to World Eaters. I fear for the boxing ring without you there." 

☕☕☕

"It's time to open," Marius Variosean called from the back of the flag store, The Pride. The first and finest café belonging to the Emperor's Children was manned usually by Fulgrim's select few. When Marius heard no call back from his partner in the front, he called again, louder, "It's 6:30, turn on the sign, Jules." 

"Hold on," Julius Kaesoron called back. He was on a ladder, adjusting the label of the newly purchased painting. 

"What, and open at 6:31? My hands are in dough right now, you're right there," Marius yelled. "Fulgrim wouldn't have it!" 

Julius pursed his lips and left the placard as it was, "No one's even here," he sang, and climbed down from the ladder to go turn on their vibrant purple neon sign. The letters sprung to life, illuminating the entire window in cursive script. Emperor's Children Café, it sang with electricity. Julius looked upon it with a swell of pride, before he stepped back to observe the store front. 

If he was to describe the café in one word, it would be regal. The walls were lined with ornate paintings, landscapes, portraits, abstracts, local modern art and historical art higher up, each piece decorated with the most detailed, hand carved frame that money - or favors - could buy. The ceiling was painted as well, commissioned by a somewhat infamous Torontonian, Serena D'Angelus. Snakes, bodies, clouds, and angels swirled above, supported by gilded crown molding along the walls. 

And yet through all the refinery, there was an underlying neon glow of the modern era. Purple lighting illuminated the multi-leveled café at just the right places to offset the overall warm glow of the hanging yellow orbs of light. White, curving stairs led to the second floor where there were more sleek, white tables and chairs. A red rope hung over the stairs now, as they only opened the second floor for rush times - the stairs were hell for carrying drinks, for new and tenured employees alike, so they only opened it when more seating was required. 

Julius moved with a quiet grace to the espresso machines, they had a twin set, and only expert hands were allowed to touch. He polished them carefully, before he checked the fridges and syrup stocks. He concentrated until a rich, warm smell emanated from the back, and Julius let his eyes roll in pleasure at the scent. A small groan escaped his lips as he imagined the delights his husband was making in the back, and he let his feet carry him to the kitchen. 

Marius was at the sinks, washing up the baker's tools. He let a smile crack at the sight of Julius, his lip rings clicking gently against his teeth. "What are you doing back here, get out there and get some music going for God's sake, Fulgrim hates a silent café." 

Julius approached Marius carefully, poised with hands raised so he could wrap his hands around Marius's thick waist, "Fulgrim this, Fulgrim that," Julius complained, "you'd think you were his husband, not mine." He trailed kisses from Marius's neck to his heavily pierced ear. 

Marius squirmed in Julius's arms, "Do you want dish water on you?" He asked, "Because you're going to get sprayed if you don't go take out the biscotti." There was a humor to his voice, despite his protests. 

With a final squeeze of his soft, perfect husband, Julius turned to the industrial sized ovens and went to work on the biscotti. 

There was a chiming of bells, and Julius quickly finished plating the biscotti before he brought it up front to join with the other morning-baked treats. Julius raised his eyebrows as standing in the door was no customer nor employee, but Fulgrim himself.

Tall as he was, he stood with an easy grace, and filled the entryway with his presence. Julius sighed wistfully, enjoying the beautiful sight of the man. Today he wore a long silk wrap of shimmering lavender, edged with white feathers at the neck and sleeves, which bounced and breathed as he stepped. His long white hair was piled up in bound plaits, and held together with a golden hair pin. He wore a thin white shirt, which flaunted his pale collarbones, and black leather pants. His shoes were black velvet, and heeled, adding to his near godly presence. Julius blushed at himself for thinking this simple man as godly, and set down the biscotti so as to tear away his eyes.

"Pheonician," he called, "my dear, good to see you so early. Looking splendid today if I may say," Julius looked over the counter, making sure everything was in place. 

"Julius," Fulgrim said, and moved to the counter. "Goodmorning darling, sorry to surprise you. It smells delicious today," he called louder, leaning over the counter, "is that Marius in the back?" 

There was a quick clatter as Marius dropped the wet pan in the sink, "Fulgrim?" His pierced face peered out from the kitchen, "Good morning sir," he waved before going back to his chores.

Fulgrim smiled towards the kitchen, before he took a seat on the barstool, and waved his ringed fingers at Julius, "It's so quiet in here, why don't we get something playing." 

"Of course, sir, any preferences today?" Julius asked, moving to the sound system. 

Fulgrim had a faraway look in his eyes, "Anything will do." 

The look, in addition to his early presence, began to worry Julius. He set about making some music before he went to work at the espresso machine. With nimble, expert fingers, he crafted a beautiful latte, and passed the cup to Fulgrim. 

Fulgrim had busied himself with his phone, and looked to Julius with a humble gaze of thanks when he was offered the latte. A beautifully intricate design of trees was patterned on top, each swirl of milk in its perfect place. He took the cup to his mouth and graciously sipped the warm drink. A perfect balance of milk and bean, the flavors washed over his tongue and through his senses. Earthy in his nose, bright in the mouth, and warm in his hands. It was the perfect latte, and Fulgrim was eternally grateful for the love and care that Julius put into his work. 

"You look troubled my friend," Julius said quietly, once Fulgrim had set down the cup. 

Fulgrim looked up, painted eyes shining in the illumination of the café. "It's the Emperor, he's coming to Toronto." 

"Already? Are his visits becoming more frequent?" Julius asked quietly. 

Fulgrim shook his head, "I don't know. All I know is Horus sent me word that he would be coming soon, and we all ought to get prepared for the visit. He said this time would be different, but wouldn't elaborate. Ferrus Manus has already twisted himself in knots over it." 

Julius sighed, "No doubt he's whipping the Iron Hands into some frenzy, trying to craft a new recipe for the man. What do you want us to do?" 

Fulgrim twirled his fingers, "Nothing, really. I don't care what the man says about our café anymore. I know we are operating within the parameters of perfection, and I don't need him to tell me how to run my shop. This doesn't belong to him anymore." Fulgrim gestured to the building, "I've taken what he started and made it better. He only gave me such glowing reviews the first few times because I kept the café the same as he ran it. As soon as we displayed an ounce of creativity he turned his nose towards Dorn, hell, he's even gone and given it to Guill's for fuck's sake. We," Fulgrim gestured between himself and Julius, "are not in the same league as Guilliman's." 

Julius nodded, and caught Fulgrim's ringed hand in his own, "Well, we'll be here for you. We'll keep the ship sailing." 

Fulgrim kissed Julius's fingers, leaving a slight pink stain, "Of course you will." He unlaced his hand and leaned back, "Though I fear we may need a war council of the stores to prepare for this visit. And worse yet, we've lost Demeter, so we are down a man. Though I care not for the Emperor's review, I'd still like to be operating as normal, so I'm going to have to seek a replacement." 

"I don't envy that," Julius sneered, "having to wade through the muck for a barista of our standards? Luck be with you, captain." 

Fulgrim took the mug to his lips once more, "Luck indeed." 

☕☕☕

Saul Tarvitz was not enjoying the rush this morning. As a proud assistant manager of one of the Emperor's Children Coffee shops, he indeed liked to run a tight ship. He didn't fancy himself an expert barista, and knew he didn't excell with his customer service skills, but he could keep a tight, clean, orderly ship moving forward. If he had the proper tools that is. But Saul Tarvitz was down a barista, a damn fine barista at that, and so this rush hour he had to do twice what was normally expected of him and then some. 

Saul managed The Fall, the second cafe bearing the name of Emperor’s Children. This one was smaller than the flag store, located in a neat row of shops with apartments overhead. The walls were lined with art just the same as the other cafe’s bearing the name, but overall this store was a touch more modern and minimalist. 

He concentrated, on mug after mug of steaming black and freezing brown coffee. It was a blur of sensation that day, overlapping voices, laughter, music, the grinding of beans, the tamping of the grounds, the click and drag of the cash box. Beads of sweat formed at his shaved temples, and he kept a rag in his violet apron to wipe away the damp periodically. 

To make matters worse, Eidolon, senior manager, was in a right sour mood. Saul hardly understood why Fulgrim tolerated the bastard. 

"If I see you with that filthy rag against your face again, you'll be on dishes," Eidolon hissed at Saul. 

"And leave all the fun of the front to yourself? I think not," Saul spat back. 

"I could manage," Eidolon turned to smile at a customer. 

The clock ticked away, song after song passed on the speakers, and eventually the crowd thinned to tolerable levels. 

Saul took the opportunity of quiet to scroll through applications on their work computer. There were a handful of neat applications that displayed some level of coffee competency, and some even a level of creativity, but nothing stood out to him as overwhelmingly promising. He examined resume after resume until a customer came to the counter, and Saul stood from the computer to help them. Glancing back, he saw Eidolon was thankfully occupied in the office, and their floor team was busy in the kitchen. 

This customer just wanted an Americano, and to be on their way, thankfully. 

As Saul stood to clean the espresso machine, movement caught his eye by the front door. As the customer left with their Americano, a man brushed past them through the still open door. Saul was at first surprised to see Fulgrim, but the light shifted, and Saul realized this was a stranger who approached. His mouth went dry, and he quickly finished his cleaning of the machine and replaced the heavy portafilter. 

Saul stepped to the front of the counter, "Good afternoon, need a moment on the menu?" 

The man's pale eyes scanned the overhead menu quickly, Saul had only a moment to take in his presence before the stranger said, "I'll have a latte. Pull the espresso a little long." 

Saul felt a challenge in his tone. "Here or to go?" His hand hovered near the cups.

The man met his eyes, and Saul realized he must be wearing contacts, for they blazed a vivid and unnatural purple. "For here,” he said, and swayed his shoulders to look around before glancing at Saul, “what designs can you do?" He raised a slender hand to pull his terribly long braid over his shoulder. 

Taking a heavy white mug, glazed with their logo, Saul said, "I could make you something special. What's the name?" 

He smiled easily, "Lucius," he said. 

“Lucius,” Saul echoed, tasting the name in his mouth. He smiled, then went to work at the espresso machine. Lucius followed his movements along the counter. He maintained a casual air, but Saul saw the curious, examining eyes of a food critic. Saul attempted conversation, "Very fine jacket. Where did you get threads like that?" 

"New York," Lucius supplied. 

"Oh, you travel much?" 

"I've just arrived in fact." 

"Well," Saul pinched the handle of the white mug of espresso, pulled a little long, and swirled the frothy brown liquid. "Picked a fine café to visit," he caught Lucius's eye and braved a wink before he went to work frothing the milk. He knew this was an important step, one he'd done a hundred times over, and the challenge still lingered thick in the air. The metal of the milk cup became warm in his hand - the signal to turn off the steam. In a place Lucius could watch, Saul carefully took the curved white mug of espresso, and without hesitation, produced the signature aquilla, the double headed eagle, in the froth of milk. He breathed only when he was done, and glanced up to see a moment of genuine emotion pass across Lucius's face. The handsome traveler was impressed, and Saul felt immense satisfaction in that knowledge. 

They stepped to the cash register, Lucius pulled the mug towards him, examining the design as he pulled out his wallet. Saul rang him up on the Square, and Lucius quickly taped away on the device for tip and interac.

"Staying in Toronto long?" Saul asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

There was a playful look in Lucius's eyes as he replied, "Yes, I am." He continued, "I hear this isn't the only Emperor's Children Café?" 

"Right," Saul nodded, eyes trailing along Lucius's frame. He clearly worked out, his waist was tight, his shoulders broad, and the way he dressed spoke volumes that he knew he was attractive. Saul lifted his eyes, "We have three shops in the GTA. If you're interested, you should visit our original store." Saul leaned forward over the marble counter, and plucked a card from the basket, "Address is here," he handed the card to Lucius. The traveller took it, and for the briefest moment their fingertips met, and their eyes flickered to meet each other's. Saul pulled away quickly, while Lucius held the card aloft a moment, examining it before he eventually pocketed it. 

Saul chastised himself. Lucius gave his thanks and stepped away with his latte, and Saul was left thinking, you see a hundred handsome men come through here every week, you're not here to fall in love with them. They're just here for coffee. Forget him, you'll never see him again. Saul hoped he was right, for as much as a part of him longed for this mysterious stranger, another part of him sensed some darkness about him, some cockiness in his smile and step. Saul cleaned the espresso machine, tapping out the used grounds, and watched the stranger a moment, only long enough to see his reaction to the taste of the latte. Lucius closed his eyes, sipped the cup - he was really tasting it - Saul knew from his expression, from the pause in his movement. He opened his eyes, looked deeply into the cup, and drank again without further pause. So he liked it, Saul knew, and finished wiping out the grounds. He replaced the machine, and ignored the next customer that stepped in. Saul moved to the back, spent from the rush, and sent the floor lead out front. 

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #29: Fade In: Katsuki Bakugou

On a late-night movie date, you and Bakugou have the theatre to yourselves. You take advantage. 

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, overworked pro hero Bakugou, movie theatre (public) sex, lots of dirty talk, Bakugou’s sailor mouth

Notes: Today’s prompt was “Dirty Talk.” The premise is inspired by real-life events that are FAR more innocent than I’m making them sound. 😂  I’m enjoying writing all of these little Bakugou bits! Let me know if you want to see more of our grumpy boi after Kinktober.

Kinktober Masterlist

The city is buzzing with life, even at 10pm on a Tuesday.

You drag Bakugou out of the train station, practically hauling him up the stairs and dashing across the street in the last few seconds of a walk light. A few months ago, you’d have been amazed that he’s even holding your hand in public, but these days he’s quite happy to- even if he pouts the whole time.

It’s a warmer night for the season, so you’ve got on something cute- with a playful little skirt swishing around your bare thighs. You figure there’s no better night to push your comfort zone than one you plan to spend sitting in a dark theatre.

Comfort zone or not, you feel cute. Especially given how many glances you’ve caught Bakugou stealing at your legs.

You’re meeting this late on a weeknight because it’s the only chance that Bakugou actually has to see you. He’s been busting ass night and day at the agency lately, and he’s been pulling weekends for months. You’ve got work in the morning, but you’re so thrilled to actually go out with him you don’t mind.

It’s not like your job is particularly exciting these days, anyway.

You file into the theatre, snag a popcorn to share, and take your seats. You’re the first ones in the theatre, which doesn’t surprise you- this movie’s been out for a while, and it’s not exactly a primetime showing.

Besides, you’re early.

You catch up a little, taking handfuls of buttery popcorn. Bakugou does not like taking on the role of sidekick, but he’s way ahead of the rest of his classmates even landing a job like that at twenty-one. Still, everyone knows that sidekicks are some of the most overworked heroes in the game.

It’s not until the theatre goes dark and the previews start that you realize. Nobody else is coming.

Holy shit.

“Are we seriously the only ones in this theatre right now?” You turn to Bakugou in nervous disbelief. He gives an absent little shrug, reaching for more popcorn.

“I’ll still kick your ass if you start texting halfway through.” He shoots you a wicked smirk, stroking an indulgent palm affectionately over your thigh. You’ve still got goosebumps from the chill outside, but fresh ones race across your skin when he touches you.

It’s been a while. For both of you.

“Be honest.” His voice is gruff in your ear, cutting deeper than the noisy previews that flash across the giant screen. “You wore that skirt for me, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t wear it for anyone,” you chide. You rest your palm on top of his. His fingers curl against your thigh- and yours curl around his.

“So fuckin’ cute,” he growls. He nips at the lobe of your ear and you suppress a gasp. “Looked so naughty, stickin’ out the bottom of your jacket. Like you were walkin’ around the city with nothin’ on.”

“Stop,” you chide, heat rushing to your face. “We’re-“

“What? In public?”

Whatever witty retort you had planned dies in your throat. You’re the only ones in here. It’s dark. The doors are shut. The music is loud.

You’re not sure how long it’s actually been since they needed someone up there in the projection booth, but you’re pretty certain it’s empty.

Bakugou slips an arm around your shoulders and tugs you in close. He nuzzles the spot where your ear meets your jaw, then tilts his chin up and nibbles at the same place.

It’s getting harder to say no to him. Not that you were ever trying very hard to begin with.

You relax into his affections as the previews end and the movie itself rolls. The opening credits begin with a burst of music as you turn your head and surrender yourself to a searing kiss. Bakugou twines his fingers into your hair and tugs gently, tilting your head back for access to the bare column of your throat.

“D’you have… any idea… how long… I’ve been thinking about this,” he gasps into your skin. You try not to whimper. It doesn’t work.

Bakugou’s rough palm slides up the tender skin of your inner thigh. You part your legs just a little, encouraging him. His fingertips brush beneath the hem of your skirt. You’re already damp and heated, ready for him after what feels like a lifetime apart.

You’ve seen each other plenty over the past couple of weeks, but it was always in passing. You’d drop by the agency at lunch (and embarrass the shit out of him in the process), he’d come home to you exhausted on weeknights and pass out seconds after falling into bed. He’s so fucking overworked these days it’s a wonder he’s got any libido left at all.

You’re going to take what you can get.

“Fuck,” he snarls as his mouth trails back to your ear. “You’re wet for me already, sweetness? I knew you were into this kinda shit. So dirty, sweetheart, so fuckin’ naughty.”

“Katsuki,” you plead. He’s running his mouth especially hard tonight. It’s doing more for you than you’d care to admit.

“That’s it, baby,” he continues. “I know it makes you sloppy when I talk to you like this. C’mere, sweetness, lemme take care of you.”

He slips his arm down to your waist and drags you over the armrest into his lap. You don’t fight him, letting your thighs spread across his jeans. Immediately, he anchors one powerful arm around your waist to hold you in place, sliding his other hand between your thighs and pushing your underwear to the side.

“God,” he gasps against your shoulder as he sinks two fingers into your tight heat. “I’ve missed your pussy. I’ve missed fuckin’ you so goddamn much.”  He draws his fingers back and pushes them in again, settling into a slow rhythm. You’re right there with him, rolling your hips smoothly into his touch.

He’s hard already, stiff and excited down one leg of his jeans. You felt it the second he tugged you onto his thighs, and you’re not shy about rubbing yourself against it.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “You want it? You want my cock, right here in the fuckin’ theatre? You do, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you find yourself whining. You never used to be adventurous. Not before Katsuki came along. But he makes you wild.

He lets go of you and you lean forward a little, letting him scoot backwards to fumble with his fly. He unzips, pulling his thick cock out and hiking your skirt up. You feel it, heated and already dripping with precum, against your ass.

With one hand braced on your hip, he lifts you. You tug your underwear out of the way and hold it there. As you sink down on him, he lets his head fall back against the seat with a feral groan.

“God damn, sweetness. Fuck, you’re as fuckin’ tight as ever. So goddamn wet for me. That’s it, ride my fat fucking cock. Shit, you really know how to milk it outta me, don’t you?”

You start to rock your hips atop his, keeping the movements subtle. As you let go of your panties, your skirt flops back down around your thighs, concealing your union. Bakugou keeps one hand braced on your hip while the other roams, tugging your shirt out of the top of your skirt and slipping his palm over your chest.

“Not… gonna last long,” he warns tightly behind you.

“Me neither,” you pant. It’s been too long for both of you.

Bakugou loses patience and lifts you by the hips, planting his feet on the sticky theatre floor and rutting up into you with a sloppy slap slap slap. He pants hard into your shoulder, sucking and biting at your tender skin and growling more filth into your ear.

“That’s better. God, I really needed to fuck you, baby. Look at you. You’re gonna cum so fast on just my cock. You’ve been holdin’ out on me this whole time, huh?”

He’s right. You’re tipping your head back against his shoulder and riding out the waves of pleasure he pumps into you. He knows your body well- he can feel the way your thighs begin to tense and shake as you get ready to cum.

“Fuck, Katsuki… b-baby, I…” Your voice dies in your throat as your peak hits you, tight and silent. You dig your fingers into the fabric armrests on either side of your hips and grip him tight, descending into shivers atop him.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” Bakugou’s voice is beginning to break, too, but he keeps it down hard and growls softly from the depths of his chest. “Wet little pussy drippin’ out all over me. God, you’re such a mess. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill you up. Gonna put so much cum in your belly, sweetness. Gonna make you so messy for me. Getting so fuckin’ close, baby, oh, shit, oh g-gah…”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence either. He cums hard beneath you, intense and sudden and fast. The wet burst of him inside you is harder than you anticipated but you let him fill you. You let him fuck out the pleasure and you let him collapse, spent, into the plush chair behind him.

His jeans are a mess. Your underwear is, too. Slowly, you work your way off of him and he tucks himself back into his pants. You settle into the pleasant weight of each other. To your immense surprise, nobody finds you. Nobody discovers what you’ve done. You leave the theatre without incident and later, when he takes you home, he fucks you twice more.

The next morning, your coworker slinks eagerly up to you in the break room as you’re grabbing your first cup of bitter office-brew. You didn’t get much rest last night.

“So?” She nudges you, grinning wickedly. “What’d you think?”

“Of what?” You eye her sleepily.

She rolls her eyes. “Duh. The movie. How was it?”

“Oh.” Your brain freezes up. You panic. Think of something to say. Quick. “It was… great. Such a cute ending.”

Quite an answer, considering it was a horror movie she’d recommended yesterday.

[maxismatchccworld]

Patch Notes

PC:1.69.54.1020 / Mac: 1.69.54.1220 Console: Version 1.35 Happy Holidays Simmers! It’s time to go back in to Create a Sim! Where in this update you will find 100+ new skin tones, customization sliders for skin tones and makeup, and three improved base game hairstyles! Every skin tone now has a value slider that allows you to change the light to dark value of that skin tone, unlocking a much wider variety of skin tone options for you to play with! You will also find that our skin tones are now filterable to warm, cool, and neutral tones (as well as miscellaneous that covers our occult skin tones).

The new makeup sliders add more choices and opportunities for you to customize your Sims, and express your Sim’s style! Hue, saturation, value or brightness, and opacity are now available to modify on the makeup. We have locked some of the sliders where it did not provide an optimal experience or make sense for the makeup. Expect us to continue our work on these issues into the future to provide you with more. In addition to the customization opportunities provided, you can also save custom swatches as you tweak your sliders to get the perfect look. When you click on the swatch (for skin tones and makeup) as you modify the sliders, you will have an opportunity to save your custom settings, so you can re-use it later without having to remember your perfect looks! Did we mention that we made some hair updates? We did - we updated a base game child hair (cfHair_BraidedPonyTail), and we added a second version of that hair that removes the baby hairs (cfHair_BraidedPonyTailPlain). And we updated a base game male hair that you may find difficult to recognize from the original hair (ymHair_flatTopTextured)!

We have updated the Main Menu!... Again! The idea behind this change is to create a more cohesive experience and give Packs a more proper space as we continue to grow our content lineup. As a nice bonus, we highlighted the Gallery in a more meaningful way to inspire you.

-SimGuruGnome & SimGuruRusskii

Now onto the fixes:

Sims 4

Sketching so much that the Digital Sketch Pad just quit on you? Never fear! Freelancer Sims that use the Digital Sketchpad will now be able to complete designs without being reset abruptly.

Happy Birthday to all! Sims will now properly Age Up. Adulting is hard but they will make it, don’t worry.

Fixed an issue in which Doors, Windows, and Arches had cutouts when being reflected in Mirrors. Rorrim Rorrim no eht llaw, ohw si eht tseriaf erutaef fo meht lla?

Sims that do not have the Fishing Skill, or have not been Fishing at all, will not get notifications about identifying Fish. THEY WERE FISHING WITH THEIR MINDS.

The following careers have added the “Take Vacation Day” option, yay!Editor Russkii note: I didn’t want to add each line in each pack for this fix, it would have looked weird and robotic so that is why I chose to do one bullet point for all in this section.

Child Sims will no longer forget they are in their Sleepwear when they go to school. Though in these times of Work and School from Home, I don’t blame them one bit.

The Sweet Escapes Country Toilet will no longer be Comfortable AND Uncomfortable at the same time… There can only be one!

Sims with the Best Selling Author Aspiration can now complete their task of writing 3 Best Sellers.

Fixed an issue in which resized objects would disappear when they were part of downloaded Gallery items.

We revised our Careers (Pack specific and not) and we made sure there were no Chance Cards that were repeated constantly.

We noticed we had added the option to Clean Up Toddler on kitchen and bathroom sinks for both Toddlers and Children by mistake, so we removed it for both age groups from the sink… but how would have they fit? Like… how? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

Build Snowpal interaction is no longer available on non-natural ground (For Simmers that own Seasons and/or Snowy Escape). That's why it's called a Snowpal, not a Floorpal!

Gardener (Seasons)

Military (Strangerville)

Lifeguard for Teens and Conservationist (Island Living)

Law, Education, and Engineer (Discover University)

Civil Designer (Eco Lifestyle).

Get to Work

We made a clarification on the Xenophilia moodlet when interacting with Alien Sims. It should no longer say “From Discovering Aliens” but now it correctly reads “From Interacting with Aliens.”

Fixed an issue in which childbirth was not possible if Simmers changed the color swatches of the Surgery Tables. Now listen, I have heard about renting whole hospital wings for a birth in real life and other eccentricities, but this… was really something.

Get Together

Male Sims will no longer get Pregnant after receiving calls from NPC Sims.

City Living

NPC Sims will now text and call with invitations to Festivals. I personally welcomed the calm and quiet of my phone not beeping about constantly. But I can’t miss a Festival!

Sims rejoice! Yard sale customers will no longer invade their Home Lots and use Household objects. It is a Yard Sale… OUT in the yard, not an Open House.

Did you ever regret trusting some Sims enough to give them your apartment keys to constantly get visits from them for Milk and Juice? You can rest assured that they will no longer visit you for this purpose. I think some neighborly love is appreciated, but this went beyond the proverbial “May I have a cup of sugar?” type of situation.

Fixed an issue in which interactions to participate on GeekCon contests would not appear when interacting with objects.

We decided to give a bit more clarity when displaying the location of Festivals, so now it will display as “Near <insert location>” and not a distinct location that is not entirely correct. This is true for Festivals in Snowy Escape as well.

Cats and Dogs

Pets will no longer sleep in random places when told to sleep on their Pet beds. In my world they can sleep where they are most comfortable, my conspiracy… allegedly.

Seasons

Sims can now Shower in the Rain… Jury is still out on Singing and Dancing.

Sims will no longer “lose” their shovels when performing other autonomous activities while performing the interaction “Shovel Snow.”

Our friendly neighborhood Snowpal has been properly renamed to Chill from Chil. Everything I knew before was a lie… a LIE!

Ever felt like the Holiday spirit has just been too much to handle, and Father Winter starting to show up everywhere and not letting you do much of anything getting a bit… out of hand? Fear not! Father Winter will stop replicating himself* to spread holiday cheer. *Note this fix is not entirely retroactive, new saves should see this without issue. Existing saves will correct themselves over time.

Get Famous

Duck Security SCROO9E Super XL Smart Vault will no longer disappear after Sims Woohoo in it… you can say Woohoo can be romantic and magical, but maybe not to this extent?

NPCs from the Actor Career sometimes would never show on Set, making gigs impossible to complete. We've spoken with their union reps and everyone has agreed to stop this ridiculous strike. What were they striking about? Was there even a Strike? We may never know.

Island Living

Mermaids and other Occults should no longer be able to make hybrid occults. How were they making them? Oh boy, I'm not sure if it's appropriate for me to give you the mermaid-birds and spellcaster-bees talk.

Randomly generated Mermaid Sims will no longer be seen without some features in affected Simmer Saves. However this fix is not retroactive, so it should be seen fixed in new saves.

Pizza delivery to Lagoon Look Lot has been fixed to arrive promptly. This is Sulani Deep Lagoon Pizza, home of the 2x1 Mermadic Kelp Pizza and the Salty Llama Combo, may I take your order? <Descriptive Simlish on the line> Uh huh… uh huh… <Indescribable Simlish on the line> Yes, we now can ACTUALLY deliver to Lagoon Look… <Interrogative Simlish on the line> Yes, we told our delivery Sims that they need to deliver it there and not keep the pizza for themselves… like give it to the actual client. <Surprised Simlish on the line>

Discover University

Has this ever happened to you? Your Sim is ready to make an offering to the Sprites only to find a crystal stuck without being able to move it? No longer a problem, Sims now can remove offerings so all their rituals can resume. Sprites rejoice.

We fixed an issue for our Console Simmers that wouldn’t allow them to close the Humanoid Robot’s Behavior Module Menus correctly.

Fixed an issue that would cause items to be repossessed when loans were fully paid. That is NOT how it worked Repo Person… NOT how it worked.

Sims with Research & Debate Skill 3 or higher will no longer be able to “Convince to” with Toddler Sims.

Masquerade Secret Society Masks are now properly unlocked in Create a Sim when joining the Secret Society.

Fixed an issue in which Heckle animation was sometimes not being performed autonomously by Sims while playing Ping Pong.

Eco Lifestyle

Fixed an issue that triggered the Off-the-Grid notifications after traveling to different Lots in Evergreen Harbor, even when they are not labeled as Off-the-Grid.

We spoke to all Eco Inspectors, and they have agreed that they should NOT be charging the Energy efficient appliances fine if your appliances are fully upgraded to be super efficient and amazing. I mean all that work and still get fined? Not in this house!

Fixed an issue in which some placeholder text was showing in notifications after Dumpster Diving.

The Americana Station Speakers will now play Music… as the prophecy foretold.

When the We Wear Bags N.A.P is active, Grim Reaper will not be partially invisible when appearing on a Lot. Grim Reaper contributes!

Living the No Appliance lifestyle? We’ve got news for you! Sims will no longer be penalized for not having “Eco-Friendly Appliances.” No appliances, no fines!

Snowy Escape

Vending Machine Canned Soups and Drinks won’t spoil anymore. Time to stock up!

Sims can no longer go on Hikes while holding their Toddlers.

Space Heaters will now be able to be placed on Lots from Inventory. Sharing the warmth everywhere!

Fixed an issue in which the Shoe Removal Sign in 5-1-2 Kiyomatsu was not working properly. We also added Shoe Removal Signs in 5-1-1 Kiyomatsu and 2-4-2 Wakabamori.

Sims will now be more visibly furious when having the appropriate furious sentiment toward other Sims. “Yes, I’m mad!... No! This IS my furious face!”

Fixed an issue with some animations that would stutter while Snowboarding or Skiing. We also made sure that Sims with a high level of those skills would not always choose the Bunny Slopes.

Izzy Fabulous’ Star Simmi Rank was just too fabulous so we had to correct it to be one star less than displayed. Don’t worry Izzy, you are a full 4 stars in my book, you are that fabulous to me.

After much debate of whether it is the Cave Shrine or the Mountain Shrine for Hiking destinations we finally decided to just call it Mountain Shrine.

We revised the Snoop-Proof Bamboo Blinds and it is now possible to drop’em like they’re hot with the Thousand Words Window.

NPC Sims will no longer “take over” the Slopes for themselves for an indefinite period of time, now they will be sharing with all Sims the joys of the Slopes.

Fixed an issue in which Sims would get highlighted in the Sentiment Panel as if receiving new Sentiments every time traveling is involved.

Sims with Rock Climbing Skill 7, or higher, are able to autonomously climb the Tall Wall (Such tall! So much wall!). There is no need to not face what makes you uncomfortable… autonomously.

Had a chat with Yamachan and asked if he was ok, he seemed to start random conversations and then randomly say goodbye without reason. We are happy to report that he is OK now and will try not to do that. Give us a hug Yamachan.

Food Stalls at Mt. Komorebi Festivals won’t be closing shop randomly during Festival hours anymore. <guitar and piano intro> Closing time, open all the Stalls and eat all the food in the world...Closing time, turn all the lights on and let Yamachan greet you heeeere…

Create a Sim asset ymHat_EP10HelmetGoggles has been fixed to no longer display clipping around the neck area as well as we made sure no facial hair is removed when wearing this asset.

Dine Out

Experimenting with photo frames will no longer use the same picture of an Experimental Meal when displayed.

Hot Pot meals are now part of Restaurant Menus! I miss the times I would go to eat Hot Pot at a restaurant. One of my favorites has a conveyor belt that carries your fixings never leaving your table for a thing. *happy sigh*

Vampires

Vampire Sims will no longer be affected by temperature, so they won't be constantly obsessed with lighting fireplaces trying to get warm.

Post edited by EA_Leeloo at 6:30PM

Source: https://forums.thesims.com/en_US/discussion/984647/december-7th-2020-patch-notes

[cl-01-kestis]

A Gut Feeling - Tech x Mechanic!Reader | Soulmate AU | 1/2

Summary: You’re a mechanic working at the Republic station on Anaxes and your native instincts kick in when you meet the brains of the bad batch.

Warnings: angst, mentions of pheromones, reader not being able to express their emotions properly, slow burner

The ambience was comforting outside of the station on Anaxes, the sun was setting quicker by each passing minute and you found yourself using a torch to see what you were doing as you worked on your speeder bike. Your hair was messy, you didn’t tie it back or do anything with it because you were either too lazy, or just forgot. You wore a grey boiler suit with the galactic republic crest on the chest pocket, sleeves unbottoned and rolled up. You wore thick layered gloves to protect your hands form getting cut with all the sharp objects lying about and also the small parts inside your speeder, you didn’t want to afford injuring yourself over something small.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead with your bare arm, noticing it had grime and oil on it which made you grumble in irritation. You were covered in oil and black polish, your boiler suit stained and black patches on your skin. Letting out a yawn, you leaned back and cracked your spine to relieve some tension in your muscles, sighing in satisfaction and managing a tired smile as you resumed your work on the speeder. You managed to prop the torch up somewhere where you could see what you were doing, you were too busy to be holding it and you wanted to finish up early considering it was falling to night fairly quickly and the clones were starting to go into their bunkers. Many stayed out though, patrolling the ground and chatting with either the Jedi or other mechanics such as yourself.

Screwing on a spring into the body of the speeder, you let out a puff of held in oxygen and fell back, sprawling out on the concrete floor and closing your eyes. You were exhausted.

You opened your eyes to see the stars starting to seep into the navy sky that blended into a purple, then a yellow. It was a truly beautiful sight, but this wasn’t the first time you’d seen something like this.

Your journey as a mechanic started way back when you were barely a teenager. Your father was born on Dathomir, a runaway nightbrother who ended up meeting your mother and then had you. Your father was the one who taught you everything, every little detail about every piece of tech and machinery. Your mother was a human which is why you don’t entirely look like your father, but your appearance is rather strange.

Your left arm, both legs, and the whole of your back up to the back of your neck are completely covered in Dathomirian tattoos, pitch black and very similar to your fathers own. Your mother highly disapproved of it when you first considered getting them, but you had never seen your father so happy and emotional before. They did hurt a lot of course, and thankfully your father knew enough of the ritual to achieve the tattoos. You were grateful you didn’t need to sit through hours upon hours of being jagged by a needle. That wouldn’t be pleasant.

You moved out when you hit 21 and you’ve been with the Republic ever since. You’re 27 now and you’ve been doing fantastic on your own. Your parents currently live in a small cosy cottage by the countryside on Naboo, so you’re unfortunately not able to visit them much but you call them every once in a while on your holo watch. Thankfully, they weren’t entirely by themselves. You had a little 16 year old brother who you practically raised since you were little, it was safe to say he cried a lot when you left. He takes from your dads looks completely, considering Zabrak males, especially Nightbrothers, are dominant in genetics if they have a son. Your brother got tattoos as well after you left, only he was completely covered from head to toe since it was tradition for a Dathomirian man to do.

You missed your family a lot, and it was moments like this that made you realise it.

Sitting up from the ground, you looked up and realised the sky had gone completely black. You’d been so caught up in your thoughts you forgot the time and realised there was hardly anyone left out on the station platform. You stood up clumsily, taking off your gloves and dumping your tools in the large red storage drawers beside your speeder bike. Closing it, you wiped your hands on your boiler suit and ran a hand through your hair, holding your palm against your head since a small headache was starting to sink in.

You returned to your bunker, getting in and immediately being greeted by Rex who you had been sharing a bunk with for the past few days on Anaxes. Approaching him quietly, you smiled and reached your hand out to fist bump him - a little thing the both of you done for a while -. You slept on the bottom bunk and sat down on it whilst rubbing your eyes.

“All the guys are asleep, change if you want to” Rex yawned, turning to his side and closing his eyes. His movements caused the bunk to wiggle slightly but it wasn’t enough to completely take it down. Smiling, you took the opportunity and stripped out of your boiler suit, replacing it with a white vest and grey joggers which you fetched from your bag underneath the bunk bed. You slipped underneath your covers and bid Rex goodnight, earning a quiet one in return before the bunk fell silent and you closed your eyes, preparing for a well deserved rest.

-

You couldn’t sleep. You’d been trying for the last 2 hours and everytime you closed your eyes, you pulled them open and stared blankly at the mattress above you. Your eyes stung, you don’t know why you weren’t falling asleep but you had to do something, whether it was play on your holopad or go for a walk. The second option seemed more appealing. You were heating up a storm as well so maybe you needed it more than you expected.

Silently, you slipped out of your covers and crept out of bed, pulling your bag out from underneath and taking out a baggy cardigan and slippers, getting them both on quickly before sneaking out of the bunker and opening the door with as much caution as you could possibly manage. You stepped out of the door once it was open and closed it behind you to stop the cold air from getting in the bunker and possibly waking the clones, alerting them of your absence.

You wrapped the cardigan around you closely, walking down the long ramp that lead to the stations concrete platform you were working on barely hours ago. You mustered up a tired yawn but quickly ignored it, walking over to the back of the station where Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi were discussing the latest plot. No one seemed to notice you as you approached the back and headed for the small kitchen in the corner, preparing yourself a Caf to keep you awake and so you could do something. You kept yawning and turned on the Caf dispenser, waiting patiently for the dark brown liquid to fill your cup until it was full so you could return to the bunker in hopes it would help you fall asleep. Your tattooed fingers pressed a few buttons on the dispenser, adding a bit of milk to it before rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm.

“(Y/N)?” You heard someone call your name, humming softly in reply as you tiredly looked around to see Anakin Skywalker approaching you with a kind smile.

“Morning- or whatever time it is” You said, taking the cup of Caf from the dispenser machine and taking a cautious sip before nestling into your cardigan at the comfortable feeling of warmth from the almost black beverage.

“What are you doing up at this time? I thought you’d be asleep by now?” Anakin asked curiously, leaning on the wall beside you with his arms folded as he looked at you questionably.

“Couldn’t get to sleep, I don’t know what’s keeping me up” You sighed, taking another sip of the Caf to hopefully wake you up a bit so you could talk to Anakin in a better way. He chuckled, shrugging and taking a cup from beside the machine, getting a Caf himself.

“Caf is the last thing you should be drinking then, it’s 2:46 in the morning” Anakin teased, taking his cup from the dispenser once it was full and taking a few big sips of it, his gloved hand gripping the cup loosely.

“I’m not sure whether or not I want to stay awake and potter about for a bit, or make another feeble attempt to fall asleep” You joked at the end, earning a small ‘Hmm’ of amusement from Anakin who shrugged once more and downed the rest of his Caf, walking over to the kitchen sink and washing it out.

“You could hang out here for a bit until you feel tired, we’re not up to much anyway” He suggested, raising a brow and folding his arms once again after he placed the cup on the drainer beside the sink. You thought for a moment, contemplating what would happen if you stayed.

“Might as well, I’m not usually around this bit” You leaned off the wall, walking up to the holo table which illuminated with different pictures and camera footage, showcasing the mission that occurred today on what appeared to be a Separatist dreadnot.

“How did you manage to get ahold of the security system?” You asked with a frown, taking a step forward and rolling up your sleeves to point at the different images that popped up in front of you. Anakin smiled and went to the other side of the table, placing his hands on the edge of the table before clearing his throat.

“We found an old clone, Echo, he was captured by the Techno Union and was morphed into some sort of... human computer. He’s not in good shape, but he managed to give us access to all the things we needed in order to take down the Separatist fleet” Anakin spoke with a sense of pride in his voice, smiling to himself as he watched the clips play. You watched them with wide eyes and eventually they fell on a group of soldiers, 4 of them.

“Who are they?” You asked curiously, eyes focusing on each one of them and trying to see what they looked like but their faces were hidden underneath personalised, grey clone helmets.

“Call themselves the Bad Batch, incredible troopers... they’re staying on Anaxes tonight but they have to leave after that” Anakin said with a small sigh, walking around to your end of the table and watching the clip with you, showing each of them in their own fighting styles.

Somehow you felt a pull. Deep in your stomach you had butterflies and you didn’t know why. Your heart was beating way too fast and you couldn’t control it. But you stayed cool, regardless of what you felt. You kept a straight face on as you watched the footage ti the very end and pursed your lips once it was over.

“Interesting tactics” You commented, eyes still stuck to the end image of the footage which was of the smallest of the group. He had a unique helmet on, one where you could see his eyes through two orange lenses. A specialised visor was attacked to his helmet, acting as if it were glasses you could slide up and down on your head. He held two blasters, much like Rex, and the footage stopped on him shooting down Separatist droids skillfully.

“Something on your mind, (Y/N)? Your thoughts are awfully loud” Anakin laughed, causing you to blush furiously and brush his comment off as a tease. You smiled briefly but you couldn’t ignore the nagging at the back of your head, something inside of you was screaming and you didn’t know whether it was a good thing or not.

“I don’t know if it’s my Zabrak senses kicking in,” You said, turning around to lean on the table with crossed arms.

“But I feel a strange pull, it’s not the force, I would’ve known that by now” You sighed.

“I’ve never felt this before” Was the last thing you said before falling silent once again and looking to Anakin for a reply. He had wide eyes, as if he had the answer, but then it was replaced with confusion.

“Is it a culture thing? Your Dad was a Nightbrother after all, they have all kinds of culture” Anakin suggested. You thought about that for a bit, maybe he was right.

“I can’t be too sure, I’ll get in contact with him” You ushered the subject away, pinching the bridge of your nose before hearing something outside on the platform crash. Anakin heard it too and he perked up immediately, the two of you ran towards the sound to see what was happening and you were shocked to find the men Anakin had told you about, The Bad Batch. Two of them were missing, it was only the sniper guy and the sergeant of the group. You felt slight disappointment for some reason, wishing it had been the guy you saw at the end of the camera footage.

“Hunter, Crosshair, what’s going on?” Anakin asked curiously, raising a brow as he waited for them to answer him. Hunter let out a slight nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck.

“My senses picked up something weird, thought we were in danger...” His eyes fell on you and he frowned, as if he was someone trying to remember you. You stood uncomfortably in your spot, maintaining eye contact with him until you had enough.

“Is there something on my face?” You hissed, crossing your arms and watching as Hunter raised his brows and cleared his throat.

“Apologies Miss” Hunter said with a sincere expression, taking a few steps forward before stretching his arm out to you and managing a smile.

“I’m Hunter, I thought you were a Separatist for a moment” He joked, causing you to frown in confusion. You took his hand, not wanting to be rude but you exchanged a glance with Anakin who looked just as lost.

“You thought I was a Separatist?” You asked in a shocked tone, causing Hunter to sigh.

“Not by appearance, I mistook your pheromones for danger” Hunter said in a quieter tone, quiet enough that Anakin didn’t hear. Your eyes flew wide and you held a hand over your mouth, face blowing up with a blush as you let go of his hand.

“Y-you can sense that? I’m so sorry-“

“It’s alright, you can’t control your biological insticts” Hunter chuckled, draping his arm back down to his side as you continued to hide your face in humiliation.

“It’s- it’s a Dathomirian thing” You explained, piecing the parts together yourself and realising what you felt back at the table when you watched the footage. How embarrassing. You projected pheromones for a man you’d never met, how desperate were you? You’re 27, not 17.

“That explains it, don’t feel embarrassed, just forget about it” Hunter offered another kind and assuring smile but you couldn’t shake the shame off. The man named Crosshair looked at you with a funny expression, verging on a sneer but he wasn’t judging you, he seemed fairly passive.

“What’s going on out there? Get to bed already!” A voice called out in the distance of a nearby bunker. Your head snapped to the entrance where the same man from the footage stood, only without his armour and dressed in a grey vest and black joggers. You froze on the spot, every muscle in your body tending which made Hunter look at you with a distraught expression, your nerves put his sensing into a car crash, he was so confused as to why you tensed up so suddenly but it didn’t take long for him to figure it out.

You kept your eyes on the man at the door, he didn’t have his helmet on so you could see all of his face. He was beautiful, his looks took the breath away from you and you felt your head get dizzy about how much you were thinking about him. He had pale skin, light brown, short cut hair and matching eyes. His face was fairly drawn out and his jaw was sharp and strong.

“Just coming Tech! Get back inside!” Crosshair yelled back, completely oblivious to what was going on.

Tech... that was his name.

But instead of watching Tech go back inside, he stayed dead still in the doorway and squinted when his eyes fell on you. You felt like you were about to pass out if you tensed any harder, this situation was suffocating you and you wish you could just vanish. Tech frowned, his face a mixture of emotions before taking a step out into the ramp.

Oh god, he’s getting closer.

“Hey! I said get back in!” Crosshair whined, walking up to where Tech was and shoving him softly. His actions made a wave of protectiveness wash over you, you had an urge to protect Tech.

“Watch it, how about you go inside!” Tech argued back, taking the briefest glance at Crosshair who growled in return and took his advice, walking past him and into the bunker. Hunter stared at you strangely, his expression a mixture of awkwardness and shock but he cleared his throat to ease the tension.

“I’m off to bed, good talking with you” He smiled, bidding you farewell before walking to the bunker.

“I think it’s time I hit the hay as well, take care (Y/N)” Anakin waved, causing you to physically gulp and realise you were on your own, getting stared down by the man you had been projecting pheromones to. This was more than embarrassing and out of your control to handle.

So you done what any normal person would do in this situation. Talk and hope for the best.

“Cold, isn’t it?” You rubbed your upper arms, trying to keep your senses at bay to Hunter wouldn’t be haunted any further by them. You had to control yourself.

“It is indeed, Anaxes is always cold during night” Tech replied, closing the door to the bunker and sitting down on the ramp, even that bit closer to you made you tense.

“You’ve been here before?” You asked, awkwardly walking up to him and sitting down about two meters away from him. Tech nodded curtly, looking up at the sky with his beautiful brown eyes as the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

“Not my favourite planet, but the skies are always nice” He commented, leaning on his elbows as he leaned back to look up more at the sky. You hummed in agreement, trying desperately not to make the situation anymore awkward than necessary. But aside from your senses kicking off, you felt surprisingly comfortable beside Tech. A strange flourish of warmth slowly spread through your chest the more you spoke with him, it came so naturally to you.

“What do you do here?” He asked curiously, you grasped onto each word as if it were the last thing he’d say to you and you smiled.

“I’m a mechanic” You answered simply, scratching the back of your neck and rolling your sleeves up which revealed your Dathomirian tattoos. This caught Tech’s attention but he didn’t immediately ask about them. He kept his eyes on them though, glistening with curiosity as he looked back up to your face.

“How long for?”

“15 years” You smiled.

“Really?” Tech sounded surprised and it made your heart flutter, you were interesting to him.

“Yeah, my dads started teaching me when I was 12” You added, shrugging as you looked up at the sky and realised how many stars were twinkling brightly down at you. It seemed to perfect, like out of a vision you had but never thought would be real.

“You’re 27? I thought you were younger than that” Tech chuckled, causing you to grin once again.

“Perks of having a Dad who used to be a Nightbrother, genes are good” You didn’t know why you were opening up to Tech so soon after meeting him, something inside you trusted him more than anyone else and it scared you.

“That’s incredible, I’m guessing that’s what the tattoos are for?” Tech leaned over slightly to get a better look at your tattoos. Nodding, you slipped off your cardigan and turned around, pulling your hair away from your neck to show him how many tattoos you actually had. When you turned around, his face held astonishment, intrigue maybe?

“It’s in our culture, my brother has the full body tattoo but I just have a few, I’m not a Nightsister or brother so it would be strange. I have my legs done as well” You couldn’t stop the smile spreading on your face, your eyes focused on Tech the whole time as he shuffled closer to you.

“May I?” He asked, hands reaching down to your arm and causing your heart to skip a beat the moment you nodded your head and felt his fingers come in contact with skin. It was like electricity, and by the looks of it, he felt it too. He flinched back and frowned at the sudden contact but mistook it for friction and held your arm delicately as he inspected the tattoos.

“I forgot to ask you, what’s your name?” Tech’s question made you smile and you replied without hesitation.

“(Y/N), some people just call me the mechanic though” You joked to ease the tension in your chest and stomach, earning a chuckle from Tech who let go of your arm and leaned back.

“You’re the only mechanic around here?” You laughed at his comment.

“Only mechanic that isn’t a clone” You pointed out, sliding your arms into your cardigan once again and wrapping it around your slightly trembling body.

“Fair point” Tech shrugged.

A long but comfortable silence fell between the both of you. Both you and him stared at the stars with focused eyes and soon you found yourself lying on your back close by him, hands fumbling on your stomach as you felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest. This situation felt so foreign to you, even as a fully grown woman reaching 30. All your life you never felt something as strong as this, yes you’ve had partners in the past but nothing was as thrilling as this emotion you were experiencing was.

“You seem on edge, (Y/N)” Tech hinted at a question but he didn’t want to be rude by asking directly, keeping his eyes on the sky as his arms reached up to support his head. The way he spoke sounded as though he had known you forever, it was comforting to say the least.

“Just... a little confused” You said truthfully whilst tapping your tattooed fingers against your stomach, trying to distract yourself a bit from the anxious churn in your stomach. Why was it so hard talking to him?

“I understand you hardly know me, but do you want to talk about it?” Tech sounded genuine, sitting up a bit and leaning on his elbows as his attention shifted to you. You kept your eyes glued to the stars though, too nervous to look into his eyes as you told him what you were feeling.

“Another perk of having a Zabrak Dad I think, tonight my emotions got rubbed up in the wrong way and it isnt sitting right with me” You grumbled, frowning slightly as your eyes switched from star to star until you closed them over for a brief moment, trying to collect your thoughts.

“To be honest, I think I know what you’re getting at,” Tech smiled. “I feel a bit iffy about everything as well, it’s rather out of the blue” He shared willingly, your eyes snapping back open and immediately connecting to his as he kept a soft smile on his handsome face.

“Are you feeling it in your chest and stomach?” You asked, he nodded. Sucking in a sharp breath, you looked back up at the sky and your thoughts ran wild.

This could possibly mean something, was Tech your mate? Soulmate perhaps? Your mother told you stories of such things when you were little, she explained the feeling you get when you fell in love with someone. But you remember the way your father described the way he felt towards your mother and slowly everything started to make sense. Your Dad was always so passionate about the way he spoke about your Mom, he could go on and on if you didn’t stop him. She was the most valuable thing to him in the world and he spoke about the way he felt when he first saw her.

“My chest was tight, painful even, my breathing got a bit faster... us Zabraks tend to get a little intense with our emotions especially when attraction gets into the mix” You remember your Dad telling you when you were a teenager. His words started seeping in and you mustered up the courage to look back at Tech, who had now rolled over onto his stomach and was closer to you.

“This is weird” You commented, earning a chuckle from the mutated clone who nodded his head and made a small hum of agreement.

“It is, but it’s not unpleasant” He rolled back onto his back, only now your shoulders were touching and the back of his hand skimmed against yours. You relaxed at his skin against yours even if it was the smallest of contact, the tension in your body feeling as though it was flushing out and replaced with serenity.

You sighed, not out of frustration or embarrassment this time. You just sighed. Your eyes slowly started glistening with unexplainable tears and they were quick to trickle down your temple as you stared up at the stars. Everything came so naturally, if it were anyone else you would never let them get this close to you. But Tech was something special, you knew it. Whether he was your Soulmate or not, he was phenomenal to be around. You barely even knew him and yet you were so open and comfortable with him so soon which did lead you to believe there was a massive chance he was destined to be yours. Maybe you were thinking out of the box, maybe you were just feeling love and attraction even though it felt so much more than that. You wanted to jump to conclusions so bad but that wouldn’t be fair on Tech, you couldn’t just tell him there was a chance he was your Soulmate.

Sniffing, you let a few more tears fall and it caught Tech’s attention suddenly, his soft brown eyes looking to you before he leaned up slightly and looked at you with concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked in the most gentle voice, his hand unconsciously moving to tuck a strand of hair away from your face as you sniffed once more and looked away, giving him a curt nod as you tried to fight the urge to nestle into his touch. You did anyway, leaning your head into his hand as you raised an arm and used the sleeve of your cardigan to wipe away the tears of emotion on your face. Tech didn’t remove his hand from your face as he stroked your cheek, running his thumb over a tear and catching it in time as it trailed down your temple.

“Don’t cry, it’s alright” Tech reassured you but you shook your head, continuing to dab at the never ending fall of tears that you couldn’t seem to stop. This wasn’t fair. Emotions weren’t something you coped well with and suddenly it was all unloading into your head like a skip pile. You were overwhelmed, unable to find a perspective on the situation which made you upset. God, you weren’t a teenager, what’s Tech thinking of you? You didn’t want to know.

“I’m sorry, pelire” You mumbled, your voice trembling as you tried containing your tears as much as possible. Tech noticed after a while that your hand was gripping his tightly, your other balling a first into your vest as your cardigan sprawled around you and didn’t cover up your torso. It was cold, Tech knew that, but you didn’t cover up or stay warm.

“Don’t apologise... what does that mean?” He asked curiously, trying to get you away from getting more upset and sitting upright, looking down at you from above and covering the sky from your view slightly.

“Pelire... it’s Zabraki for something rare, something precious” You wiped away the final round of tears and sat up, careful not to knock Tech’s head as he still held your hand, unwilling to let it go. He processed the words and struggled to keep a smile off his face, the corners of his lips curling up slightly at your words. Tech squeezed your hand tightly and your breath got caught in your throat when he laced his fingers with yours.

Face to face, no words were exchanged as Tech leaned towards you and used his free hand to cup the back of your neck, his lips pressing against yours and catching you completely off guard. Your shock lasted barely seconds as you started kissing him back and moved your hands to wrap around his neck, feeling his own hands wrap around your waist as he kissed you deeper.

Things were moving so fast but something inside you was on fire, heat surrounding your heart and causing it to feel like it was about to combust as Tech kissed you with such passion. Your head was spinning with so many thoughts but you pushed them aside, they could wait. They had to wait. Your lips parted but only for barely seconds as you dived in for another taste, one of your hands running your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck whereas the other rest on his shoulder.

It was intoxicating, the feeling of his lips on yours got you obsessed. You wanted more, you craved it. But you stopped yourself before it got too far, eventually parting your lips from Tech’s and smiling at him with pure joy. He kept his arms right around your waist and rest his head against yours, the both of you closing your eyes for a moment, savouring the moment. You didn’t know what time it was but you noticed the faintest shades of yellow start to bloom out on the skyline.

“As much as I don’t want to let you go, you need to go back and get some rest, love” Tech said the last word with such passion, he sounded confident and proud saying it and it made you sigh in delight.

“You’re right, I should get going before the clones wake up” You sighed, hesitantly letting go of Tech as he unwrapped his arms from your waist, standing up first and offering you a hand to take. Without hesitation, you took it only to be pulled into Tech’s embrace once more. You were in a state of euphoria, gaining first hand experience of what is was like. Boy, what would you tell your parents? Especially your Dad and brother considering you all share the same physical genetics.

“I’Shuree, Tech” You smiled, looking at him with a beaming expression.

“I love you too, (Y/N), now go before anyone sees us” He smirked, kissing you once again with just as much passion as the last one, only it lasted seconds. You departed from Tech, feeling cold without him already as you walked backwards to your bunker which was pretty far away from his own. You yawned loudly, loud enough for Tech to hear as he let out an amused chuckle, enamoured with everything about you.

You turned around just as you were about to turn the corner and go out of sight, waving to Tech who done the same before turning around and approaching the entrance to his own bunker.

You returned to your bunker that early morning with a spring in your step, heart fluttering and all the tension in your body before was completely gone. Deep down, you knew Tech was your Soulmate, and you believed he knew that too by the way things went tonight.

You crept into the bunker and returned to your bed bellow Rex’s, seeing him completely knocked out as his arm draped off his mattress. Silently, you tucked yourself under the covers and drifted off into an immediate sleep, dreaming of one man only.

[automatonknight]

decided i’ll occupy myself with translating a polish SCP tale today so here you go :]

here is the original one  (keep in mind i’m only translating this, it’s not my own tale)

 Second Chance

That day i came to work a bit ealier than usual. I got myself a cup of coffee from a drinks machine and shambled in the direction of my office, where I would check my list of tasks. I sat down in an uncomfortable chair and started up my computer. After a while the screen lit up and the device started to load the operating system. In the meantime i tried to cool down my drink. I took a sip. Hm, still hot. I put the cup down and entered my password. A few boxes with information about today’s schedule showed up on the screen, including one talking about an experiment i was supposed be in charge of. Today is probably going to be pretty peaceful.

I couldn’t be more mistaken. Everything happened so fast. First the alarms blared, next came a warning about an approaching XK class scenario. There was nothing to think about, I knew what i needed to do. I was very lucky to be chosen to supervise SCP-RP-825. My mind was already set when the site started to fall apart. Before anybody could stop me i bursted into the containment cell.

-C’mere, we’re getting out of here. I warned them about this.-I said, grasping the object.

-Stop where you stand! Put the object down immediately!-I heard a harsh voice coming from behind the door. I need to be quick, they could start shooting any moment. I started up the device and set a random value and lightly waved at my would-be killers. A few of tchem got into the cell and fired, but the bullets hit wall and didn’t do me any harm. A mere few seconds later the site was blown off the face of earth. There was something enormous and destructive coming, luckily, it was none of my conern anymore. I was already outside of this reality. From what i knew from studying SCP-RP-825, during the journey, it’s users were thrown into a void-like space in between dimesions. I wasn’t any different. Everything around me went quiet, it was dark too. I was expecting this, but my body still shivered nervously. It’s pretty funny how darkness affects us.

Interestingly, while in the void, the user can see themselves perfectly. Almost as if they’re emitting light. Unfortunately, I never found out why it happens. I shook my head and sighted quietly. Even in a horrbile situation like this i never stop speculating. According to the clock situated on my left wrist I was here for about two minutes so far. I was starting to get a little concerned that I’m going to be stuck here forever, but soon my vision started to catch first glimpses of color. I exhaled and focused on making out the objects forming around me.

-I hope this world isn’t full of huge lizards or some other bullshit.-I mumbled, looking down at the SCP I was holding.- I would need to get out really qui…-Before i could finish my sentence, the device „cracked” and the display shut off.-…fuck.

A moment after the swear left my mouth, i heard a quiet „chk” of a rifle. I heard a voice behind me

-Who are you? Got your ID?- The command was loud and clear. I raised my arms slowly and looked around. I was in a room strangely similar to a canteen located in Site 17. I glanced over the walls and suprised faces of the witnesses of my sudden appearance until I saw a familiar logo on a labcoat of one of the men.

-Are you fucking kidding me…-I let go off SCP-RP-825. It shattered upon contact with the sterile, shiny floor.

-I swear I’m not a member of the Chaos Insurgency!- I raised my voice slightly, I grew more desperate after realising, that if i won’t convince at least this one person I’m not a threat, I won’t be alive for much longer.

-And I would like to believe you, but you don’t have any evidence to back up your statements, that’s the problem.-The man sat in front of me took a sip from a mug decorated with „Best researcher in the world”. He was wearing a labcoat similar to mine.  I raised my eyebrow.

-You look like our scientists. I hope you make less mistakes than us, though.-The other guy leaned in, resting his chin on his hands, before speaking up.

-Listen, this sounds too improbable. If I wasn’t at the canteen, the guards would kill you without a second thought after hearing a story like this. Honestyly, I should send you to be terminated, but I don’t think that would help solve the situation. -He sighted.-Start over, but try to be less..chaotic this time. It’s your last chance.-I nodded, trying to collect my thoughts.

-So…my name is Krzysztof Rasiewicz and I’m a scientist working at one of the branches of the SCP Foundation, the one located in the Republic of Poland.

-Located in Poland?

-Why would one country have two, separate branches? Is this how things work in your dimension.

-No. A Polish branch is a Polish branch. Wait a second…The Republic of Poland exists in your reality? You mean Poland and Lithuania connected with a personal union?

-I mean..it existed.-I murmured.-The whole dimension is probably doomed, but I won’t be able to find out for sure. SCP-RP-825 was destroyed. As to The Republic of Poland, it was Lithuania, Hungary and Poland connected together. I wouldn’t call it a supercountry, but Russia and the USA had to keep us in mind.

-Hold up, let’s say i believe you.-He scratched his nose.-If you really were an employee of the SCP Foundation, you should remember at least some of the objects they had contained. Would you list some? And besides that, what was your clearance level?-I leaned back in the chair and took my ID out of one of my pockets. I placed it on the desk. I gestured towards it, inviting the other man to take a look. He did take a good, long look at it. -Doctor Krzysztof Rasiewicz, clearance level four, Site 17…it looks legitimate. What about the objects? I hesitated for a moment, but I realized i have pretty much nothing left to lose. I started to describe the first SCP tak came into my mind. The longer I was talking, the more suprised the other researcher looked.

-…we discovered that if one person wore both of the bracelets and clapped, something totally different would happen. If there’s only one user, telepathy is impossible, it’s logical. So, if one person wears both object A and object B, SCP-RP-145 teleports them to a long room with numbered lockers…

-Stop!-The man cut me off slamming his palm on the table.-The thing you’re describing takes subjects to the exact same place as one of our objects. We checked all of the lockers, only one of them is empty. The Chaos Insurgency probably has none of those artifacts. It’s a serious situation, so we’ll do this: if you’re not lying, you can help us avoid doing the same mistakes, that the colleaugues from your dimension did. I’ll inform the higher-ups. I’ll also apply a submission and the Polish O5 Council will sort things out by voting. For now, we’ll keep you in a cell, just to be safe. Any questions?-I realized there’s nothing more I can do so I just slowly shook my head. -Alright, see you around. Hopefully.

POLISH BRANCH OF THE SCP FOUNDATION

DR. KRZYSZTOF RASIEWICZ

LEVEL 1 SECURITY CLEARANCE

STATION 10

This is the text I saw on my new ID. The Polish Foundation branch employed me, despite many negative votes. Apparently, one vote saved me from termination. One. Is it true? I have no idea.

But I know I won’t repeat any mistakes from the past.

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (December 7th, 2020)

There’s a new Sims 4 update available for PC/Mac and Consoles. IPC:1.69.54.1020 / Mac: 1.69.54.1220 / Console: Version: Console: Version 1.35

Happy Holidays Simmers!

It’s time to go back in to Create a Sim! Where in this update you will find 100+ new skin tones, customization sliders for skin tones and makeup, and three improved base game hairstyles! Every skin tone now has a value slider that allows you to change the light to dark value of that skin tone, unlocking a much wider variety of skin tone options for you to play with! You will also find that our skin tones are now filterable to warm, cool, and neutral tones (as well as miscellaneous that covers our occult skin tones).

The new makeup sliders add more choices and opportunities for you to customize your Sims, and express your Sim’s style! Hue, saturation, value or brightness, and opacity are now available to modify on the makeup. We have locked some of the sliders where it did not provide an optimal experience or make sense for the makeup. Expect us to continue our work on these issues into the future to provide you with more. In addition to the customization opportunities provided, you can also save custom swatches as you tweak your sliders to get the perfect look. When you click on the swatch (for skin tones and makeup) as you modify the sliders, you will have an opportunity to save your custom settings, so you can re-use it later without having to remember your perfect looks! Did we mention that we made some hair updates? We did – we updated a base game child hair (cfHair_BraidedPonyTail), and we added a second version of that hair that removes the baby hairs (cfHair_BraidedPonyTailPlain). And we updated a base game male hair that you may find difficult to recognize from the original hair (ymHair_flatTopTextured)!

We have updated the Main Menu!… Again! The idea behind this change is to create a more cohesive experience and give Packs a more proper space as we continue to grow our content lineup. As a nice bonus, we highlighted the Gallery in a more meaningful way to inspire you.

-SimGuruGnome & SimGuruRusskii

Now onto the fixes:

Sims 4

Sketching so much that the Digital Sketch Pad just quit on you? Never fear! Freelancer Sims that use the Digital Sketchpad will now be able to complete designs without being reset abruptly.

Happy Birthday to all! Sims will now properly Age Up. Adulting is hard but they will make it, don’t worry.

Fixed an issue in which Doors, Windows, and Arches had cutouts when being reflected in Mirrors. Rorrim Rorrim no eht llaw, ohw si eht tseriaf erutaef fo meht lla?

Sims that do not have the Fishing Skill, or have not been Fishing at all, will not get notifications about identifying Fish. THEY WERE FISHING WITH THEIR MINDS.

The following careers have added the “Take Vacation Day” option, yay!

Child Sims will no longer forget they are in their Sleepwear when they go to school. Though in these times of Work and School from Home, I don’t blame them one bit.

The Sweet Escapes Country Toilet will no longer be Comfortable AND Uncomfortable at the same time… There can only be one!

Sims with the Best Selling Author Aspiration can now complete their task of writing 3 Best Sellers.

Fixed an issue in which resized objects would disappear when they were part of downloaded Gallery items.

We revised our Careers (Pack specific and not) and we made sure there were no Chance Cards that were repeated constantly.

We noticed we had added the option to Clean Up Toddler on kitchen and bathroom sinks for both Toddlers and Children by mistake, so we removed it for both age groups from the sink… but how would have they fit? Like… how? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

Build Snowpal interaction is no longer available on non-natural ground (For Simmers that own Seasons and/or Snowy Escape). That’s why it’s called a Snowpal, not a Floorpal!

Gardener (Seasons)

Military (Strangerville)

Lifeguard for Teens and Conservationist (Island Living)

Law, Education, and Engineer (Discover University)

Civil Designer (Eco Lifestyle).

Editor Russkii note: I didn’t want to add each line in each pack for this fix, it would have looked weird and robotic so that is why I chose to do one bullet point for all in this section.

Get to Work

We made a clarification on the Xenophilia moodlet when interacting with Alien Sims. It should no longer say “From Discovering Aliens” but now it correctly reads “From Interacting with Aliens.”

Fixed an issue in which childbirth was not possible if Simmers changed the color swatches of the Surgery Tables. Now listen, I have heard about renting whole hospital wings for a birth in real life and other eccentricities, but this… was really something.

Get Together

Male Sims will no longer get Pregnant after receiving calls from NPC Sims.

City Living

NPC Sims will now text and call with invitations to Festivals. I personally welcomed the calm and quiet of my phone not beeping about constantly. But I can’t miss a Festival!

Sims rejoice! Yard sale customers will no longer invade their Home Lots and use Household objects. It is a Yard Sale… OUT in the yard, not an Open House.

Did you ever regret trusting some Sims enough to give them your apartment keys to constantly get visits from them for Milk and Juice? You can rest assured that they will no longer visit you for this purpose. I think some neighborly love is appreciated, but this went beyond the proverbial “May I have a cup of sugar?” type of situation.

Fixed an issue in which interactions to participate on GeekCon contests would not appear when interacting with objects.

We decided to give a bit more clarity when displaying the location of Festivals, so now it will display as “Near <insert location>” and not a distinct location that is not entirely correct. This is true for Festivals in Snowy Escape as well.

Cats and Dogs

Pets will no longer sleep in random places when told to sleep on their Pet beds. In my world they can sleep where they are most comfortable, my conspiracy… allegedly.

Seasons

Sims can now Shower in the Rain… Jury is still out on Singing and Dancing.

Sims will no longer “lose” their shovels when performing other autonomous activities while performing the interaction “Shovel Snow.”

Our friendly neighborhood Snowpal has been properly renamed to Chill from Chil. Everything I knew before was a lie… a LIE!

Ever felt like the Holiday spirit has just been too much to handle, and Father Winter starting to show up everywhere and not letting you do much of anything getting a bit… out of hand? Fear not! Father Winter will stop replicating himself* to spread holiday cheer. *Note this fix is not entirely retroactive, new saves should see this without issue. Existing saves will correct themselves over time.

Get Famous

Duck Security SCROO9E Super XL Smart Vault will no longer disappear after Sims Woohoo in it… you can say Woohoo can be romantic and magical, but maybe not to this extent?

NPCs from the Actor Career sometimes would never show on Set, making gigs impossible to complete. We’ve spoken with their union reps and everyone has agreed to stop this ridiculous strike. What were they striking about? Was there even a Strike? We may never know.

Island Living

Mermaids and other Occults should no longer be able to make hybrid occults. How were they making them? Oh boy, I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to give you the mermaid-birds and spellcaster-bees talk.

Randomly generated Mermaid Sims will no longer be seen without some features in affected Simmer Saves. However this fix is not retroactive, so it should be seen fixed in new saves.

Pizza delivery to Lagoon Look Lot has been fixed to arrive promptly.

This is Sulani Deep Lagoon Pizza, home of the 2×1 Mermadic Kelp Pizza and the Salty Llama Combo, may I take your order?

<Descriptive Simlish on the line>

Uh huh… uh huh…

<Indescribable Simlish on the line>

Yes, we now can ACTUALLY deliver to Lagoon Look…

<Interrogative Simlish on the line>

Yes, we told our delivery Sims that they need to deliver it there and not keep the pizza for themselves… like give it to the actual client.

<Surprised Simlish on the line>

Discover University

Has this ever happened to you? Your Sim is ready to make an offering to the Sprites only to find a crystal stuck without being able to move it? No longer a problem, Sims now can remove offerings so all their rituals can resume. Sprites rejoice.

We fixed an issue for our Console Simmers that wouldn’t allow them to close the Humanoid Robot’s Behavior Module Menus correctly.

Fixed an issue that would cause items to be repossessed when loans were fully paid. That is NOT how it worked Repo Person… NOT how it worked.

Sims with Research & Debate Skill 3 or higher will no longer be able to “Convince to” with Toddler Sims.

Masquerade Secret Society Masks are now properly unlocked in Create a Sim when joining the Secret Society.

Fixed an issue in which Heckle animation was sometimes not being performed autonomously by Sims while playing Ping Pong.

Eco Lifestyle

Fixed an issue that triggered the Off-the-Grid notifications after traveling to different Lots in Evergreen Harbor, even when they are not labeled as Off-the-Grid.

We spoke to all Eco Inspectors, and they have agreed that they should NOT be charging the Energy efficient appliances fine if your appliances are fully upgraded to be super efficient and amazing. I mean all that work and still get fined? Not in this house!

Fixed an issue in which some placeholder text was showing in notifications after Dumpster Diving.

The Americana Station Speakers will now play Music… as the prophecy foretold.

When the We Wear Bags N.A.P is active, Grim Reaper will not be partially invisible when appearing on a Lot. Grim Reaper contributes!

Living the No Appliance lifestyle? We’ve got news for you! Sims will no longer be penalized for not having “Eco-Friendly Appliances.” No appliances, no fines!

Snowy Escape

Vending Machine Canned Soups and Drinks won’t spoil anymore. Time to stock up!

Sims can no longer go on Hikes while holding their Toddlers.

Space Heaters will now be able to be placed on Lots from Inventory. Sharing the warmth everywhere!

Fixed an issue in which the Shoe Removal Sign in 5-1-2 Kiyomatsu was not working properly. We also added Shoe Removal Signs in 5-1-1 Kiyomatsu and 2-4-2 Wakabamori.

Sims will now be more visibly furious when having the appropriate furious sentiment toward other Sims. “Yes, I’m mad!… No! This IS my furious face!”

Fixed an issue with some animations that would stutter while Snowboarding or Skiing. We also made sure that Sims with a high level of those skills would not always choose the Bunny Slopes.

Izzy Fabulous’ Star Simmi Rank was just too fabulous so we had to correct it to be one star less than displayed. Don’t worry Izzy, you are a full 4 stars in my book, you are that fabulous to me.

After much debate of whether it is the Cave Shrine or the Mountain Shrine for Hiking destinations we finally decided to just call it Mountain Shrine.

We revised the Snoop-Proof Bamboo Blinds and it is now possible to drop’em like they’re hot with the Thousand Words Window.

NPC Sims will no longer “take over” the Slopes for themselves for an indefinite period of time, now they will be sharing with all Sims the joys of the Slopes.

Fixed an issue in which Sims would get highlighted in the Sentiment Panel as if receiving new Sentiments every time traveling is involved.

Sims with Rock Climbing Skill 7, or higher, are able to autonomously climb the Tall Wall (Such tall! So much wall!). There is no need to not face what makes you uncomfortable… autonomously.

Had a chat with Yamachan and asked if he was ok, he seemed to start random conversations and then randomly say goodbye without reason. We are happy to report that he is OK now and will try not to do that. Give us a hug Yamachan.

Food Stalls at Mt. Komorebi Festivals won’t be closing shop randomly during Festival hours anymore. <guitar and piano intro> Closing time, open all the Stalls and eat all the food in the world…Closing time, turn all the lights on and let Yamachan greet you heeeere…

Create a Sim asset ymHat_EP10HelmetGoggles has been fixed to no longer display clipping around the neck area as well as we made sure no facial hair is removed when wearing this asset.

Dine Out

Experimenting with photo frames will no longer use the same picture of an Experimental Meal when displayed.

Hot Pot meals are now part of Restaurant Menus! I miss the times I would go to eat Hot Pot at a restaurant. One of my favorites has a conveyor belt that carries your fixings never leaving your table for a thing. *happy sigh*

Vampires

Vampire Sims will no longer be affected by temperature, so they won’t be constantly obsessed with lighting fireplaces trying to get warm.

It's here – and a day early! Today, a free game update brings you 100+ skin tones, customization tools for skin tones and makeup, three improved base game hairstyles, and a main menu makeover. Available now to all The Sims 4 players! pic.twitter.com/p7QIIkI74d

— The Sims (@TheSims) December 7, 2020

A huge thanks to @Xmiramira @EbonixSims @MiaZaff1 @RaonyPhillips & @catherinegYT for the candid conversations & constructive feedback! Their input, representing their viewpoints alongside their player communities, was instrumental to current & future improvements. #GameChangers !

— The Sims (@TheSims) December 7, 2020

Every skin tone now has a value slider, unlocking thousands of customizable options. In addition, we made improvements to both new and existing skin tones, including strengthening the quality of suntans and sunburns.

— The Sims (@TheSims) December 7, 2020

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Sixteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, murder, mentions of sexual assault, literally everything Criminal Minds, okie.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9247

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 23. Right after part fifteen.

It was a sad and quiet walk to the car as Morgan, Hotch, Emily, and I all headed to the crime scene. When we got there, the door to Rebecca’s apartment was wide open. There was no sign of forced entry, which meant that she had originally believed that he was Gideon, like she said on the phone, so she invited him in. The house phone that I had called was smashed on the ground in the living room, and there was a single cup of coffee on the table in front of the couch. I reached down and felt the outside of the mug to find that it was cold. Frank was long gone, just as expected.

Morgan kicked the bedroom door open after jiggling the locked door handle around. Hotch and Morgan took the lead heading inside while Emily and I kept pressure on the tail end for backup, not that it ultimately mattered. After the door flew open, we discovered Rebecca’s body on her bed in the same state that the woman in Gideon’s apartment had been found.

Hotch sighed to himself and took a step out of the apartment. I followed for a brief moment, but I didn’t end up going any further than the couch in the living room. I took a quiet seat and hid my face in my hands. There must have been some hope still brewing in my chest on the car ride over because seeing Rebecca hit my heart harder than it should have. I didn’t know her. I didn’t have any connection to her other than being a part of her rescue team that night we saved her. And yet, I felt almost responsible for her. We could have done more to protect her. We should have called her first. At the time, it didn’t make sense to call one potential target over another, but I should have just done it… She could perhaps still have been alive if we just called a few minutes sooner to warn her.

Emily walked by, “I’m going to check on Hotch,” she told me. I nodded and whispered a thank you.

“Y/N,” Morgan called my name from the bedroom. “You should come take a look at this…”

He sounded concerned about something, so I sucked in a brave breath before stepping into the room. Morgan was holding evidence in his gloved hands, searching through a stack of… whatever it was he found… As I approached, Morgan held the evidence out to the side, but he didn’t look up at me, almost like he was too scared to. Hesitantly, I took what he was offering in order to look for myself. The second it was out of his hands, Morgan turned to find something else to work on.

I looked down at my hands and the evidence they were holding. Within an instant, I felt like yelping or screaming, yet nothing came out. As my blood ran cold, I stayed paralyzed and looked at the photos in my hands. All this time, I thought that they had burned in the fire; yet there they were. Intact and staring back at me.

I swallowed hard. “Has Hotch or Emily seen these?” Morgan shook his head, though still refusing to look at me. I didn’t blame him after what he had just seen. I wouldn’t want to look at me either. “Don’t tell him,” I quietly begged.

“It’s evidence, Y/N.”

“They don’t exist,” I insisted, putting them in the inside pocket of my jacket. “They burned in the fire at Randall Garner’s home.”

“Y/N—“ he turned around, finally finding enough dignity to look at me.

I stared him down, “They don’t… exist.” His eyes frantically searched mine, but I stayed calm. “Hotch can never see them.”

Morgan kept staring at me as if it would change my mind. It wouldn’t. I genuinely thought that this had all ended the night Randall Garner died and his house burned down. I thought that the images he stole from me disappeared with him. There wasn’t a single day since then where I even thought about those photos, because why would I when I had tried so hard to forget them in the first place and then I had reason to believe that they had been wiped from existence. Not once did the thought cross my mind of there being a possibility that those photos were still out there. If I would have known, I would have searched through heaven and hell to find them and burn them myself. Yet there they were now, hiding in my jacket, out of sight of the one person I didn’t want to ever lay eyes on them. Hotch was a well grounded, smart man. He didn’t like to use his position at the FBI for any kind of personal gain— including finding people or digging up dirt on whomever he wanted. But if he saw those pictures… If he knew that they really were, he wouldn’t stop until he found the boy that did that to me, and he would kill him. Therefore, Hotch could never know, the same way Elle could never know. That was, if I ever ended up seeing my sister again.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he whispered to me.

I shook my head, “They don’t exist. It never happened.”

His face softened, “Y/N—”

“It never happened, Morgan. Please. Just… drop it…”

“You know that I, of all people, get it. Right? You can talk to me.”

“And you should know, of all people, that I just want you to drop it and never talk about it again.”

Morgan took a physical step back to signify him backing down from the conversation. He turned back to looking around the room for more evidence, meanwhile I paced around the bed to look at Rebecca’s body. It was left in an identical state compared to the body last night. Her stomach had been cut open, obvious organs missing— but I wouldn’t know until Reid or a coroner could take a look. There was an incision on the left side of her chest, just where there was easy access to a rib, if that was really what his M.O. was. I froze and squinted when I noticed that she was clutching something in her right palm.

“Morgan,” I called his attention over. I pried Rebecca’s hand open slightly and slid the piece of paper out of her tight grip. “It says ‘7AM, Union Station. I’ll trade her for Jane.’” Morgan and I exchanged a glance. “Hotch!” I yelled. Him and Emily came in a few seconds later and I handed the note to him.

“So he’s taken someone else already,” Emily spoke up. 

“Or at least he’s planning on it.”

“Let’s think about this. All other eight possible targets are safe and accounted for, so what— or who— did we miss?” Morgan questioned. “Frank isn’t capable of feeling the same feelings we do, but he enjoys mimicking them because he finds it fun. He takes what other people hold sacred and he uses it against them. So what does that say about his next target?”

“People hold women and children most sacred,” Emily worked out. “He said that he’d be willing to trade ‘her’ for Jane, but he wouldn’t have given that detail if he didn’t want us to narrow down the list, so it has to be a kid.”

“Call JJ and ask her to search through all of the child victims we’ve worked with in recent years and have moved to the D.C. area so recently that Gideon wouldn’t have it marked down,” Hotch told Emily. Emily left the bedroom. “Did you guys find anything else in here?”

Morgan looked over at me like he was waiting for some kind of cue to admit what he found, but I shook my head vaguely. “We didn’t find anything else,” Morgan answered finally.

“Hotch,” Emily said breathlessly as she ran back in, “JJ says that the only girl who matches the description and isn’t accounted for is a girl named Tracey Belle.” Hotch eyes shot wide. “She also says that they found Jane.”

“Okay, go back to the office to meet up with JJ and sort things out with Jane. Morgan, stay here with the crime scene while the PD is on their way, Y/N and I will go to the Belle’s residence. Have JJ send us the address. Let’s go.”

Hotch and I hurried to McLean, Virginia where Tracey Belle’s family had moved to after our team saved her from a child Unsub long before I joined the team. I knew nothing about Tracey Belle or the case she was involved in, except for the fact that there was a boy in her grade who was luring other kids to the woods and murdering them out there. Tracey was supposed to be his last victim, but the team managed to get there in time to stop him before anything could happen. Thankfully. But now, there was a strong chance that Frank had her. She was going to relive her worst nightmares all over again…

The sun was already down again with another day concluded, which was both a blessing and a curse. While the darkness would help Hotch and I approach the house undetected, it also meant that Frank could hide or run and we wouldn’t even know it— or even worse, he could have already killed Tracey.

Hotch kicked down the door and I pushed into the house first with my weapon and flashlight raised. We moved quickly and quietly, checking every corner of the living room, kitchen, and dining room. When there was no sign of a struggle or Tracey at all, we moved down the hallway towards the bedrooms. The first door on our left was open, and it looked like Tracey’s father’s office. Past that, on the right, was Tracey’s parents’ room, which was also empty. The last room to check was Tracey’s room at the end of the hall on the left again. The door was closed, unlike the other rooms. I gave Hotch a short nod as I put my hand on the doorknob, and he returned the signal. I turned the handle, pushed the door open as fast and hard as I could, and Hotch ran in first.

Empty. Entirely empty.

There was no sign of Tracey or her family anywhere. While that seemed like a loss— which, in reality, it technically was— it was also still a win. If Frank was going to hurt Tracey, he would have already killed her in her home like he had done with the other victims. From the looks of it, he took Tracey. The only question was, however, where were her parents?

“I’ll call a forensics team,” Hotch said. “Call Morgan and have him meet us here.”

While Hotch turned to call the office, I grabbed my phone and dialed Morgan. I asked if he was done at Rebecca’s house yet, and he told me that they were just bagging up her body and then the crime scene cleaners were going to come in, which he didn’t need to be there for. I told him that we needed him down at the Belle’s residence as soon as possible. He sighed and hesitantly asked me if she was dead.

“No. Frank just took her.”

“I’m on my way.”

Thirty minutes later, while Hotch and I were casing the house as best we could ourselves, Morgan and the forensics team showed up with the local sheriff's department. We stepped out of the house to let them do what they needed to do in order or to determine exactly what happened to Tracey. Morgan met us out front and we started to discuss why Frank would have possibly taken Tracey, of all people. According to them, Frank wasn’t fond of children, which was why the school bus hostages were a shock to them in the first place, but now this? He was getting desperate. He was losing track of who he enjoyed murdering because he was so focused on Jane. That being said, he didn’t kill Tracey, so maybe she was meant to be a gift for Jane, and in that case, Tracey would be safe unless we didn’t give Frank what he wanted.

“That’s our house, Charlie!” someone shouted from the road.

Hotch, Morgan, and I looked over to see Tracey’s parents getting out of their car and running up towards the house. The three of us stepped in their path to make sure they wouldn’t get through. I recognized the worry on their faces as uncontrollable panic about their daughter’s safety, but we wouldn’t let them into the house until the forensics team was done inside.

“You have to let us in,” Mrs. Belle told us desperately while trying to push past me. “My daughter’s inside.”

“You can’t go in right now,” Hotch tried to explain to them calmly.

“Where’s Tracey? Where’s my daughter?”

“Mrs. Belle—” I began, but she didn’t listen. She was still fighting against me as if I would suddenly budge and move out of her way, but I was going to do no such thing.

“What’s important to know right now is that Tracey is, in fact, alive,” Hotch said. Mr. Belle saw an opportunity to push through Morgan and Hotch, so he attempted to take it, but Morgan caught him before he could make it to the door. “Sir, she’s not in there!” Mr. Belle threw his hands up in surrender and stepped back. “We’re going to find her, I promise,” he said to both parents.

Mrs. Belle stopped fighting against me and suddenly broke down in my arms. She fell to her knees with me barely catching her in time, and she began to sob. Mr. Belle hurried over and took Mrs. Belle from my arms so that he could hold her as they both cried. They thought that all of this was over after they moved… They thought that their daughter was safe because our team had saved her before, but now she was gone and we were back on their doorstep.

The way Mrs. Belle cried and screamed out for her baby shattered my heart as the three of us stood around and watched. She rocked in her husband’s embrace and tried to muffle her sobs, but they were so agonizingly painful in her heart and chest that she couldn’t hold them back. My jaw clenched as I swallowed back the feeling of needing to cry in response. The tears that had started welling my eyes disappeared after I looked away and blinked furiously to make the fog over my eyes go away.

“We should go back to the office,” I whispered to Hotch. I was too scared to say anything louder than that because I thought that the sob collecting in my throat would escape if I raised my voice above a whisper. I took in a steady breath before stepping around the Belles.

If what Emily said earlier about JJ locating Jane was still true, they were likely back at the BAU already interrogating her for information, and since we hadn’t received another call from them, I was going to go out on a limb and guess that they weren’t getting anything of use yet. Hotch was the best interrogator we had, if anyone could do it, it was him. We were practically useless at the crime scene now, there was no point in staying when he could be finding a way to end this once and for all without giving Jane to Frank again and without getting Tracey killed. There had to be answers. There had to be a way to get that little girl back to her family.

“We need to talk,” Morgan said, coming up to me as I leaned against the side of the car while waiting on Hotch. I opened my mouth to protest because I knew exactly where this was headed, but he put up a hand to tell me to be quiet and just listen, so I decided to give him a shot at not making my night any worse than it already was. “You know what I went through growing up. I didn’t want people to know the truth either, yet they found out. They always find out, Y/N. Everyone got hurt and lost their trust in me because I chose to hide that secret over helping them find the man responsible. Hotch still struggles to trust me sometimes.” He shifted his weight on his feet. “You can’t keep it a secret forever even though you think you can. That man over there loves you more than anything in the world. I have never in my life seen anyone look at another person the way the two of you look at each other. You don’t want to lose that because of these photos, Y/N. It’s not worth it.”

“It’s not for him to know, though. It happened decades ago. What’s the point in bringing it all back up when all it will do is hurt people? Nothing will be solved suddenly if I show him the pictures and tell Hotch every single thing that boy did to me. He’s better off not knowing.”

“If it were Hotch keeping a secret like this from you, wouldn’t you want to know?”

I paused. Truthfully, I would want to know. But it wasn’t fair of Morgan to force the decision on me like this. He was right that I knew exactly what happened to him, but he forgot that I also knew how adamant he was about not telling anyone and how when I pieced it together myself, I didn’t tell anyone because it was his secret to tell when he wanted. Telling Hotch the truth was the most petrifying concept to me. During the Fisher King case, I had hinted to him what happened, but he didn’t know the extent of it, and he certainly didn’t need to see the photos.

“Does it get any better after they know?” I asked him.

Morgan’s eyes fluttered as he looked at the ground. “No,” he shook his head, “I don’t suppose it does.”

“You know that I love and respect you, Morgan… but I just… I need to think about it, at least.”

“Are you two ready to go?” Hotch asked as he met us at the car. Neither of us looked up at him or each other. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head and relaxed my shoulders. “Nothing.” I opened the car door and got in.

At the BAU, Reid met us as the elevator doors opened. He explained that Jane had turned herself in to local police because she had nowhere else to go and she wanted to talk with Gideon. He also said that she seemed on edge. She was scared, obviously, but there was something more to it than that, but no one could figure out what.

When we entered the mirror room, I could see that Emily and JJ were still in the interrogation room with Jane, trying to get her to talk while she held onto a brown paper bag for dear life. Morgan and Reid took a few side steps to stand in front of the window, but I moved to follow Hotch into the interrogation room.

“Stay in here, Y/N,” Hotch said. “She doesn’t know you, so it might turn her off from talking if there’s someone in the room that she doesn’t recognize.” I nodded agreeingly and went to stand in front of the mirror with Morgan and Reid.

Jane clutched the bag closer to her chest. “Frank hasn’t hurt anyone, has he? He wouldn’t do that… Not while he has me…”

“But he doesn’t have you, Jane,” JJ explained. “We do.”

“Why did you leave Frank? What changed?” Emily asked.

“Frank changed,” Jane answered. “Agent Gideon warned me that this would happen, but I didn’t believe him when I should have. Frank isn’t who he says he is. That’s why Frank’s mad with Agent Gideon because he knows everything about Frank. That’s why I need to see him.”

“Frank wants Agent Gideon to stop him, doesn’t he?” Hotch inquired quietly from the corner. Everyone was using hushed tones with her because she was such a fragile woman. Anything over a whisper would have made her spiral, which we didn’t have time for.

“Well, if anyone can stop him, it’s Agent Gidoen.”

“Not without you, Jane.”

“What do you mean?”

Hotch changed the subject, “Tell me what you know about Frank. Where is he from?”

“Manhattan. He talked about it all the time. He told me about where he lived and how he grew up, everything. He wanted me to know everything.”

“Did he say where in Manhattan?”

She shook her head, “No, but he said that he lived with his mother, Mary Breitkopf. Just his mother, though. He never knew his father, but he still despised him. He loved his mother more than anything. She would take him to the fair, and to the movies when they could afford it, they would have dinner parties when they couldn’t, and she read stories to him every night. He even had me read some of them to him to help him sleep.”

“Did Frank try to kill anyone else while you guys were on the run?”

“Is it wrong to love Frank?” she dodged Hotch’s question by asking Emily another one. Emily raised a curious brow. “You know, since he is what he is… Is it wrong?”

“You don’t choose who you love,” Emily answered.

My eyes unconsciously switched to look at Hotch. He looked at the mirror as if he could see me and I realized that he was thinking the same thing. We would fight tooth and nail for each other and to make our relationship work, just as I had told him in the car the night before. Jane seemed to feel that way about Frank, but we knew what kind of man he was, and there was no way that he could return the same desperate feelings.

Hotch looked back at the table in the middle of the room. “Jane, did Frank try to kill anyone else?”

She nodded, “Me…” She lowered her head as she started to cry quietly. “We had an argument, and as it blew up, I said that Agent Gideon was right, and he became so angry. So I ran and I didn’t look but.” She looked back up, “But he won’t try to kill anybody else. I promise.”

“He’s already killed two people, Jane,” JJ said. “And he’s not going to stop until he gets you back.”

“Oh…”

There was a knock at the door suddenly. Morgan, Reid, and I all turned to see who it was. Anderson poked his head into the room and told us that there was a call for Hotch and that it was extremely urgent. When I inquired about who it was, he said that it was Tracey Belle. I immediately reached for the door to the interrogation room and told Hotch that we had a problem. Hotch uncrossed his arms and hurried past me, Morgan, Reid, and Anderson. We all ran after him as Anderson tried to explain that it was Tracey Belle who had called and she sounded upset— which, of course she fucking was, Frank had her.

“Hello?” Hotch welcomed as he picked up the phone on his desk and put it on speaker for us to hear.

“Agent Hotchner,” Frank began, “we asked for Agent Gideon, not you. Put him on the phone.”

Hotch reached down to the phone and speed dialed Garcia’s number since Gideon didn’t have his phone on him. When she picked up, Hotch said, “Garcia, put Jason on the phone. There’s someone who wants to talk to him.”

“Who is this?” Gideon asked once he had the phone.

“Jason?” Tracey questioned, her voice shaking with fright. “It’s Tracey Belle.”

“Go on, Tracey,” Frank encouraged from the background. “Just like we practiced.”

“Please, Mr. Gideon,” Tracey sniffled, “you have to help me. You saved me once before. Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember you, Tracey. How could I ever forget you?” Gideon chuckled lightly and playfully, trying to brighten Tracey’s mood. “Tracey, everything’s going to be alright.”

“I’m scared, Mr. Gideon… I want my mommy…”

I sat down on the couch in Hotch’s office as I choked back that same need to cry that I felt at the Belle’s residence. Tracey was crying out for her mother in the same way that Mrs. Belle had been crying out for her daughter. It all rang in my head over and over again, the crying and the screaming.

“Jason,” Frank sing-songed into the call.

“You son of a bitch,” Gideon cursed into the phone. “I swear I will find you no matter what it takes and I will take you down.”

“Shhh,” Frank cooed. “I chose the station because I know of your interest in trains. I saw the toys in your apartment before I killed your date.” And then he hung up.

Silence hung in the air as we all stared at each other. We only had a few hours until the sun would start to rise and we were supposed to meet Frank at Union Station with Jane. There was no other choice than to play by his rules, though, right? If we wanted to get that little girl back to her family safe, then we needed to give him Jane. That being said, there was no way in hell Frank actually believed that we would let him get away again. Even if we did give him Jane, they weren’t going to get very far. D.C. and Virginia was our turf, not his. We knew how to tear apart the entire East coast if need be. He wasn’t going to win again. Especially since he made it personal with Gideon this time around.

Hotch picked up the phone and dialed the SWAT team to let them know that we would be heading to Union Station around 6:30 in order to be there on time for 7AM. Morgan paced around the room, biting at his nails, and Reid sat down on the couch with me while lost in thought. He was likely thinking of a way to get Frank after this was all over with. We knew that no matter what, we had to be the ones to get to Frank, because if Gideon got there first, he would kill him, and Reid couldn’t afford to lose Gideon because of a dumb mistake.

Morgan stopped pacing when Hotch hung up the phone and looked up at the three of us. “Boardroom. Now. Reid, get Emily and JJ.”

Reid stood and ran to the interrogation room to go collect them, and in the meantime, Hotch, Morgan, and I walked down the lifted walkway outside of Hotch and Gideon’s offices and into the boardroom. Hotch pulled up a map of the train station on the TV and we started making our plan for how we were going to clear the station, get to Frank, find out where Tracey was, and then arrest Frank. We had to be exact. There was no room for error. Fucking this up could result in either Tracey’s death or Frank getting away again— or both, if we were too careless.

“Hotch, we think we might know where Frank is keeping Tracey Belle,” JJ said as she, Emily, and Reid all stormed into the room. Hotch raised a curious brow. “Jane said that he is obsessed with his mother. Well, I did some digging, and it says that she’s still living in the Upper East Side in New York. Since taking Tracey, he would have had enough time to drive up there, leave her with his mother, and he could be back in time for our meeting at Union Station.”

“He would want to get her as far from us as possible,” Emily shrugged, explaining further, “just to make sure that we don’t get to her before he gets Jane.”

Hotch nodded, “No lead is a bad lead. JJ and Reid, take the jet to Mary Breitkopf’s home, see if you can find Tracey there. Meet with the field office there and have a task force go with you. We can’t afford to let Frank or his mother get away.”

JJ and Reid left together to get ready for their flight to New York while the rest of us looked back at the map of the train station. Hotch showed us exactly what plan he had in mind for the 7AM meet time. Our team, along with backup from SWAT, would move into the station and clear it out as quietly as possible. Frank won’t leave or hide in the crowd because he knows that this is his only chance of getting Jane back— just like when he stayed around in the diner in Nevada. Hotch was going to talk to Frank first, see if he would budge and tell us where Tracey was, even though that wasn’t very realistic. Eventually, we would have to show Jane to Frank in order to get Tracey’s location, since by the time Reid and JJ would get to his mother’s house in New York to check if she was there, this would all be unfolding. If it came down to it, we would have to give Jane over to Frank, and he would likely tell us to wait so that they could run again; but the local PD would have road blocks surrounding the area to make sure that he wouldn’t get too far. Our job would be to help find Frank once he was gone, but there wasn’t much we could do to stop him while at the station if things progressed, unfortunately. 

At 6:30, we geared up and headed out to Union Station. The SWAT team was waiting in the back of the parking lot for us since they didn’t want to scare off the public or Frank just yet. We needed to make sure that Frank remained calm until 7AM when we would find him somewhere inside, so it was a safer bet if our team went in quietly without our weapons out. People were in too much of a hurry around the station to notice a few FBI agents spread out amongst the building. Hotch put me and Emily on guard at the inside platform, and Morgan and Hotch were going to take the lobby. We headed in quietly and calmly, Emily and I splitting off from the boys as soon as we entered the building.

For the thirty or so minutes leading up to 7AM, Emily and I paced and searched the platforms to see if we could spot Frank anywhere. If we were lucky enough, we’d catch him in the crowd and we could take him in for interrogation over anything else. Frank liked being in control and being powerful, and by taking a hostage, he had both because we were playing by his rules. But if we shoved him in a dark, windowless interrogation room for long enough, he would tell us where Tracey was.

At 6:58AM exactly, the SWAT team moved into the station to start clearing out all of the civilians. Emily and I searched every face that passed by us to make sure that Frank wouldn’t slip out— just in case our profile of him was wrong. He wanted Jane, yes, but maybe he would get scared off by all of the armed agents running around. But there was no sign of him on the inside platform after everyone cleared out. Even if he was on the outside ones, he would have needed to pass by us or the boys in the lobby. He was either waiting somewhere for us or he was long gone.

“The building’s clear,” we heard from the SWAT team through the comms. Emily and I exchanged a glance. “Target spotted on the platform outside. Target spotted.”

“Emily, get Jane,” Hotch said over the comms.

Emily turned around and headed back for the lobby and the parking lot where Jane was sitting in one of the cars, waiting for us to get her. I immediately jumped onto my toes and started racing for the tunnel that led to the outside platform. The platform was entirely clear except for Frank, who was sitting alone on a bench, and Morgan and Hotch who were carefully approaching. Morgan passed the back of the bench to stand on Frank’s left side, while Hotch and I stood on his right side.

Hotch stood his ground and stared at the man sitting on the only bench on that side of the platform. “Frank,” he greeted casually.

“Agent Hotchner. Agent Greenaway. It’s a pleasure to formally meet both of you finally.”

“Where’s Tracey Belle?” Hotch wasn’t having any of Frank’s shit. We weren’t going to give up Jane until we knew for sure that Tracey was still alive and well. When Frank didn’t respond, Hotch asked again, to which he was met with Frank asking if we brought Jane. “Maybe we did. Tell us where Tracey Belle is and we’ll give you Jane.”

Frank tsked his tongue, “That’s not how this is going to work, Agent Hotchner. I see Jane first and I will tell you exactly where the girl is.”

Hotch sucked in a deep breath, his face still sour and flat. He waited another minute in silence before lifting his wrist comm to his mouth and telling Emily to bring Jane out. The platform was quiet again as everyone maintained their footing and aim at Frank. The clacks of Emily’s boots and Jane’s heels echoed in the station as they walked up to mine and Hotch’s side. Frank looked over and smiled at Jane, but she didn’t smile back. Hotch asked his question again as Frank stood up.

“Did you not think that I’d come looking for you?” Frank addressed Jane.

Jane hid slightly behind Emily. “You killed two innocent women, Frank, and you took that little girl. Why?”

“For you, my love. Without you, I am nothing. I had to do everything I could to get you back.”

“Tracey, Frank,” Emily said, irritated with how they were dancing around the information we needed.

“Not until we’re safely away.”

“Stop it, Frank. I’m not going with you,” Jane insisted, moving behind Emily a bit more.

“Jason, wait—” Hotch pleaded with Gideon as he came running onto the platform with his weapon raised at Frank.

Both of us tried to stand in his way, but he pushed past us and stepped closer to Frank. “Sarah was a doctor,” Gideon said behind gritted teeth. So that was his date’s name. “She ran a cancer treatment center. She dedicated her life to easing the pain of others. You took the lives of hundreds all because your mother was a whore.”

Frank’s grin immediately disappeared. “You don’t know anything about my mother.”

“Mary Louise Breitkopf. An immigrant from Germany, a single mother to a son named Frank, lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Tell me, did she do it all in the house or did she at least show you the courtesy of doing it elsewhere?”

“Shut up,” Frank hissed.

“You think that you’re special, don’t you, Frank? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. You’re nothing.”

Frank glanced over Gideon’s shoulder to look at Jane again. “Jane, this world isn’t meant for us. We don’t fit in here. We should go Come with me and we can be together forever.” Jane stepped around Emily slowly and started walking forwards. No one tried to stop her,  but we were keeping a close eye to make sure that neither of them would try anything. “I love you, Jane.” He held out his hand for her.

She took his hand, “I love you, too.”

He pulled her close for a kiss, and both Emily and I stepped forward to intervene, but Hotch put an arm out to the side to stop us. The approaching train blared its horn to signal its arrival, so none of us could hear what was said between them after they parted from their kiss. The next thing we knew, Frank kissed Jane’s knuckles and they made a run for the train tracks. We all tried to run after them to grab them, but they were just too far ahead of us. Before we could stop them, both Frank and Jane jumped in front of the train.

I threw my palm to my forehead as my jaw fell and I let out a gasp. This was Frank’s endgame. He knew that we weren’t going to let him get away again, and he wanted to make sure that he was with Jane for forever, just like he said. He didn’t really care about her, though. As a psychopath, he was incapable of loving her the way she assumed he did. He just wanted one more victim to go down with him. She was supposed to be his first and only, but he couldn’t stop himself from killing, even in the end.

Gideon’s phone rang as he reholstered his weapon. I looked over at Hotch and he looked just as shocked as me. No one cared if Frank died, though it would have been nice if we could have arrested him; but Jane was just an innocent, naive, lost, and broken woman. She didn’t deserve what Frank put her through. That seemed to be Hotch’s biggest regret— not getting to help her more.

“Reid and JJ have Tracey,” Gideon told us, still on the phone. “She’s safe.”

“And Mary Breitkopf?” I asked.

Gideon shook his head, “Reid estimates that she’s been dead over twenty years.”

Frank started killing people around twenty years ago… The death of his mother— if he hadn’t killed her himself— was his stressor. He did all of this for her. But it was over now. Frank and Jane were gone, and they had left a trail of blood behind them; but Tracey was safe. That was a win. We failed Rebecca, but we didn’t fail that little girl or her parents.

It was over. Finally.

“Hey, Greenaway,” Morgan said as he approached my desk. “Wanna go for a drive?”

I shook my head while still collecting all of my things for the night. “Hotch and I are going to pick up Jack from his aunt’s house.”

Morgan kicked my ankle playfully to grab my attention, so I gave in and looked up at him with a glare. “I want to show you something. It’s important.”

“But Hotch—”

“I already talked to him. Trust me, it won’t take that long.”

I looked up at Hotch’s office to see that he had just finished packing up his briefcase for the night. Morgan stepped in front of my gaze and smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and gave into his offer with a silent nod. His smile widened as I got out of my seat and walked towards the glass doors of the BAU.

Morgan drove us about thirty minutes out of town to a suburban neighborhood that was in the middle of development. We pulled up to one of the houses that was practically just a skeleton with half of a roof. As Morgan put the car in park, I asked myself what the hell we were doing there. How did Morgan know about this place and what was so important to show me all the way out there?

I followed Morgan’s lead as he got out of the car and walked up to the house he had brought me to. There was no door, so we just stepped in between two beams. We ended up standing in the middle of what looked like would eventually be a living room. After a minute of me spinning around to try to figure out the significance of this place, I gave up and asked Morgan where we were and why we were there.

“You know how I own a bunch of different properties?” he asked me and I nodded. “Well, this is one of them.” That was great and all, but why were we there? “What happened to us, it doesn’t define us, but there are a lot of kids still out there who don’t know that— and a lot of them end up in the system. If there had been a place where I could have sought out help, I would have taken it, but I didn’t have anyone. We save all different kinds of kids all the time, and sometimes they end up in a system that can’t give them the help or resources they need, and I feel like I have the ability to help them, so I bought this place and I’m going to turn it into a foster home for kids who have been removed from abusive families.”

“Morgan, that’s…” I was absolutely speechless.

It was amazing. No one ever looked out for kids like us when we needed it the most. We always felt so alone and misunderstood— like somehow it was all our fault. Morgan knew that feeling better than anyone, and he took the initiative to find a place that could help kids. If I would’ve had something like that after… Well… Again, speechless. 

“Do you still have them?” he asked, referring to the pictures while pulling out something from his pocket. I nodded. He flipped open a lighter, “They don’t exist, right?” I smiled lightly as he ignited the flame. “Let’s make it official.”

I reached into my suit jacket and pulled the pictures out of the inside pocket. I kept them face down because I didn’t want either of us to look at them again. I wanted that night to be remembered for the kindness and friendship Derek Morgan showed me, not because it was the last time I ever stared at those nightmarish photos. Morgan took the photos carefully from my grip and I watched as he held one of the corners over the flame. The photos took a moment to catch on fire, but once they did, Morgan lit another corner just to make sure it would keep going and not fizzle out half way through.

When the flame got too close and hot to his fingers, Morgan dropped them on the dirt ground. We stood shoulder to shoulder in silence for a minute until I finally found the courage to say what had been on my mind all day since we found them in Rebecca’s room.

“I’m going to tell him,” I whispered as we watched the photos burn. “I’m just scared.”

“Y/N.” I looked up at him. “Hotch loves you more than anything. He’ll listen and he’ll get it. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“I don’t want to lose him because he thinks differently of me.”

“I swear to you, if that happens, I’ll shoot him myself.”

I laughed, “Well, that’s a little hyperbolic.”

Morgan reached over with both of his arms and he enveloped me in a warm hug. “You’re going to be fine.”

I wrapped my arms around Morgan’s chest and hid my face in his shoulder, “Thank you, Morgan.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

The small fire died out as the photos were turned to nothing but ashes. It was like they never existed, which was exactly what I wanted. No one would ever see those photos again. They weren’t even a memory, if I were being honest. It happened, I moved on, yet they were exhumed for the purpose of hurting me again, and I just needed to get over it again. Time was the best way to heal before, and it would be again… as long as I had Hotch and Jack with me every step of the way. Knowing that I wasn’t alone anymore, that someone like Morgan got it, it helped tremendously; but Morgan was right, Hotch deserved to know why I was hurting because if anyone could help ease my suffering, it was the man I loved most. I didn’t have to be alone. I didn’t have to drown in my sorrows all over again like I did after high school. I had people who loved me and wanted to help me. All I needed to do was ask.

So I asked Morgan to drive me home as fast as he could before I could change my mind about it all. I watched the moon move in the opposite direction of us as he drove me back. The stars sparkled and the wind blew in my face as I stuck my head out the window and rested it on the windowsill. It was good to appreciate the smallest things like how nice the night was when our work consisted of so many terrible things. It was easy to lose faith in humanity and life if one got too caught up in the work and ignored the good that came out of it all. For instance, without the BAU, I would have never met Hotch and Jack. Without the BAU, I wouldn’t have found the closure I needed from that night in high school.. Without the BAU, I would have never met Morgan, Emily, Reid, Garcia, or JJ. The people I held most dear wouldn’t know me without the job we had. I had so much to be grateful for, and it all came from the opportunity I was given. I had to remember that every time a case took a toll on me or anyone else.

I thanked Morgan for showing me the foster home he was building and for driving me home afterwards. He insisted that it was no problem and if I ever needed a ride again, he’d be more than happy to lend a hand. I hit his arm playfully and told him that he had to get in line behind Hotch and his gun if he were ever going to get a chance with me. Morgan laughed and threw his hands up in surrender before I thanked him again and got out of his car. I watched as he drove off into the night to head back to his own home. 

When the street was quiet, I headed into the house. The lights were off in the living room, kitchen, and dining room, but the hallway light up the stairs was on, meaning that both Hotch and Jack were upstairs. I circled back to the front door to set the alarm before heading upstairs. I dropped my bag off in the hallway just outside of Jack’s room and quietly knocked to see if he would respond. When there was no answer, I carefully opened the door to see if he was asleep or had headphones on while playing a game on his tablet. My heart melted as I saw Jack curled up under the blankets on his bed. He looked like he had been asleep for hours despite it still being fairly early in the night.

I snuck over and discreetly sat on his bed so as to not disturb him. I leaned down and kissed the top of his head, “Goodnight, little man.” I sat back up straight.

“He crashed as soon as we got home,” Hotch whispered from the doorway. “I think he had a longer day than we did.” I smirked while brushing Jack’s hair out of his face gently. “Are you okay?” he asked me. I shrugged and he tiptoed closer to me before taking a seat on the bed, too. “What’s wrong?” he snaked his arms around my waist and kissed my temple.

“I can’t get the sound of Tracey Belle’s mom crying out of my head. They were so worried about their daughter… I thought that Mrs. Belle was going to have a heart attack then and there on that sidewalk.” I sucked in a quiet but deep breath. “And all I could think about was how I’d die if anything happened to you or Jack. He doesn’t deserve the cruel touch this world can have.” I reached up to my face and wiped a tear that managed to escape before I could blink it away.

There was so much out there that Jack wasn’t prepared for, and he never would be. Hotch and I knew of every evil imaginable, it came with the territory of the job, but I never wanted Jack to have to face any of it. Worst of all, I didn’t want him to end up in a lonely situation like Tracey Belle went through… or the unthinkable, what I endured.

Hotch kissed my cheek, “We’re going to be okay.” He hummed against my ear as he rocked me back and forth slightly. “I promise that nothing will ever happen to us. I swear.”

I stood from Jack’s bed, took Hotch’s hand in mine, and began to lead him towards our bedroom. He followed without arguments or playfulness like he normally would. In our bedroom, Hotch sat down on the bed while I closed the door. For a moment, I continued to face the door, my back to Hotch, my mind racing with thoughts of how I was going to approach this.

When it came to Morgan, everyone found out before he could even say anything the way he wanted to, but now I had to come up with the right words to make sense of everything for Hotch. The worst part, though, was the anxiety of not knowing how he was going to react. There weren’t many people out there who could learn about something like what I went through and then go on like nothing happened. I didn’t want things to change. I liked how Hotch and I were. I liked how he loved me when he was trying to be romantic, how he got rough when he wanted to be dominant, how he knew exactly what I wanted without even having to ask. It was our thing, and it made me happy. But people had a tendency to treat survivors like they were fragile, and I wasn’t fragile. I was more than just what happened to me. I didn’t want Hotch to be scared to do things anymore because he knew about my past. I didn’t want him to stop loving me because he might think differently of me. But Morgan had a point… Hotch would eventually find out one way or another, so it was best if I just told him.

“Baby,” he whispered from the bed.

He never called me that. It wasn’t like we didn’t want to or anything, but we just… hadn’t… so when it took me by surprise, I felt my heart and stomach do simultaneous somersaults. I didn’t want to lose him. It was my worst nightmare to have the only man I had ever loved to look at me like he was mad or disappointed. I didn’t want that. But he seemed so worried about me, obviously, or else he wouldn’t have slipped up on the name. Or maybe it wasn’t a slip up at all and he just felt like it made sense to finally say it.

“What is it?” he asked me. I turned to face him. “Is this about me jumping in the dumpster? I said I’m sorry.”

I smirked and shook off a laugh. He wanted to cheer me up and brighten the mood, and it was working, but my nerves prevented me from acting normal, which only concerned him even more. So, while fidgeting with my fingers, I sat next to him on the edge of the bed while maintaining a safe distance from him. There was no doubt in my mind that Hotch was definitely profiling my behavior. I was quiet, distant, my eyes were looking anywhere but at him, and I was shaking like a chihuahua in the snow. Something was obviously wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what other than the fact that what happened with Tracey Belle made me worry about Jack— but there was no reason for me to still be this worried about it when he had just calmed me down. So it was something else, he knew that much, and he was going to give me the time and space to say it however I saw fit.

“Do you remember how Randall Garner stole the jewelry box Elle gave me?” I asked quietly, still staring at the floor. I spotted Hotch nodding out the corner of my eye. “You remember I told you that there were supposed to be pictures inside—”

“I know, Y/N,” he interrupted before I could say more. I finally looked up at him with confusion plastered to my face. “Garcia found out about them, and you know how she is, she’s ridiculously protective of us all, and so she wanted to find the guy who blackmailed you, I guess. She didn’t find what the photos were, but… we connected the dots when we saw that he had at least ten other girls come forward against him, claiming that he did the same thing to all of them when he left for college.”

My eyes fell shut and I cringed. At least ten other girls. It should have ended with me, right, but that wasn’t how sociopaths like him worked. One victim just wasn’t enough to quench his thirst. Frank was the same way.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he took my hands.

“It was so long ago—”

“You don’t have to invalidate how you really feel about it.”

“I’m not.”

Hotch tilted his head to the side and gave me a look that said: “Seriously?” I shrugged. “Look at me,” he said before he gently grabbed my chin and made me stare at him. “What he did to you shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry that it did. But you didn’t have to be afraid to tell me and you don’t have to be scared to admit how you still feel about it. I need you to believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t your fault.”

He was right. I knew it. Both Morgan and Hotch had told me practically the same things, and yet it was still hard to believe them. At least this hasn’t gone as poorly as expected. I would definitely need to talk to Garcia about keeping her fast, little, hacker fingers off my past, but I was honestly glad that I didn’t have to say it. While I should have been mad at them for snooping around in business that didn’t concern them and should have been my right to tell them, it was a relief that I didn’t have to relive any of the memories by telling Hotch everything. It could just go unsaid and the healing process could begin with him by my side.  

I escaped from his touch before letting my face fall into the crook of his neck. “Please don’t treat me any differently,” I begged quietly.

“I’m not going to,” he answered quickly while petting my hair.

I grabbed onto his shirt and twisted the fabric in my hands. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

[crackedoutgiraffe]

To The Moon and Back

A/N: This is from a work I have on AO3, this is chapter 3 from Spencer’s POV. My username is giraffecrack. GIF by @cassidyandtuliplove​

Word Count: 1,775

Warnings: Fluff

SPENCER’S POV (italics represent Spencer’s thoughts)

That morning was like any other morning. I woke up at 7 am, put on my regular sweater vest and tie. I fixed my scruffy hair and brewed my first cup of coffee. We had gotten back from a case a few days before so it was a given that I needed to bring my go-bag, pre-packed with plenty of ties and sweater vests. As I sat down at my table, I pick up the book I was reading last night. I didn’t get a chance to finish it yet. Just then the clock struck 7:30, I grabbed both my briefcase and duffle bag and headed to the train station. I never liked driving. There was too much risk involved and I never had the chance to learn when I was 16. With my mom in her own world and me away at MIT, it was just easier to take the metro. 

My walk to Union Station was the same as it always was. Boring. I found a way to make it fun though. Counting the number of people with black hair one day, brown the next, and blonde the day after. The ride to Quantico always gave me extra time in the morning to relax. I would just sit on the seat closest to the door with my bags on my lap and a book in hand. When I finally got to Quantico, it felt different. There was something new, but I couldn’t tell you what it was. I got into the elevator and noticed what was different, there was someone new. She had y/h/c hair and carried her self very confidently, but I had never seen her before. Just as the doors closed she started to walk toward the elevator. I could feel her happiness radiating through the entire building, she had a smile that made you feel like everything was going to be alright. She also had the most beautiful y/e/c eyes. The doors closed, cutting me off from a literal ray of sunshine. 

The entire elevator ride she occupied my mind. Her smile, her hair, her eyes. The elevator doors opened and I went right to my cubicle. I set my stuff down and went to grab a cup of coffee then headed back to my desk. Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ were congregating not too far from my desk. After organizing a few papers, I went to join them. Just then, JJ pointed out someone new walking in, we were used to having new people coming and going from the office, but this was a welcome surprise. It was her. The mystery goddess from the lobby. She started walking toward us but made a detour for the stairs and entered into Hotch’s office.

“I wonder what that is about,” JJ asked.

“I don’t know,” Morgan said. “I do remember Hotch saying something about interviews for a new member of the team, but I thought he said he wasn’t going to go through with it.”

Dear God, please let her be a new member of the team. We all sat in anticipation, waiting for Hotch to come and say something to us. We saw them get up and head for the door. My heart was racing. Can you please shut up. Hotch and the new girl walked down the hallway to Rossi’s office. I couldn’t help but stare, and she stared back. 

As the minutes passed by we were all still waiting for Hotch to come back and tell us what she was doing here. Finally, she and Hotch left Rossi’s office, she had the biggest smile on her face that showed her perfect teeth. They started to walk down the stairs and head toward the four of us, so we all scrambled to seem busy as to not face the wrath of Hotch.

“Glad to see you guys are working,” Hotch quipped. “I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of the BAU team, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Bless the Lord. JJ was the first person to go and greet her. 

“Jennifer Jareau, but everyone calls me JJ,” JJ said with a kind smile. 

Then Prentiss went up, “Emily Prentiss, but everyone calls me… well, Prentiss,” Y/N seemed surprised at something.

“It’s lovely to meet you both” she replied shaking both their hands. 

The next to greet her was Morgan, “I’m Derek Morgan.” She seemed to be flustered by Morgan’s presence. Of course, she would be attracted to Morgan. 

“Do you prefer Derek, or do you have a nickname too?” she quipped. They all laughed at her surprisingly funny joke. 

“Just Derek is fine. Do you have a nickname, or would you prefer me to give you one?”

“Surprise me.”

I was next. Don’t fuck this up. “Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid,” I said, extending one arm for a handshake. She looked at me weird. What was she looking for?

“Dr.?” you said with a smirk, reciprocating his handshake that went on a bit too long. 

“Dr.” I replied still not letting go of the handshake. 

 Hold on, what was that? Reid stop staring you look weird. I couldn’t stop staring. Now that we were closer, I could get a good look at her eyes. They were y/e/c with little flecks of green toward the middle. She smelled fantastic, like roses and lavender. Everything about her was perfect. Her face, her body, and from these first few seconds I’ve known her, her personality. 

“But we just call him pretty boy,” Derek said, hitting me on the back, releasing us both from our trance. 

“Ok, pretty boy,” she replied, looking him up and down while messing with her hair.

“Round table meeting in 5,” Hotch announced right on queue. JJ and Prentiss started to approach her and lead her away and out of the bullpen. She was perfect. The way her hips moved when she walked. The way she smiled seemed to make all the problems in the world go away. The way her hair bounced and flowed on her shoulders. And to think she couldn’t be any better, she was a Dr. Finally someone on the team who could match his intelligence.

“Oh, it looks lit pretty boy has a crush,” Morgan announced.

I turned around in shock, “I do not.”

“Then what’s with the staring,” he whispered. Was it that noticeable? 

Finally, it was time for the roundtable meeting, “Alright let’s get started,” Hotch said, walking in and sitting down. “Garcia.”

“Does anyone remember this picture,” Garcia started.

“Hotch and I were there,” Rossi answered Garcia’s peculiar question. “That’s principal Doug Givens, we had to drag him to safety.”

“High school bombing in Boise, right?” she added. The way her lips moved with every beautiful word she spoke, she was a goddess. incarnate

“School shooter and school bomber,” JJ continued. “A kid named Randy Slade shot 3 students and then set off an I.E.D. in the school cafeteria via cell phone, killing himself and 13 kids total, but not before posting all of his plans online. It was one of those ‘where were you events’. My whole campus was glued to the TV”

Garcia nodded looking at her tablet, “Last night principal Givens was killed by a bomb modeled exactly like the old one.”

“It feels like the unsub wants to attack the man who kept the whole school together after the bombing,” Morgan added. “It’s a pretty symbolic target.”

“And this week is the tenth anniversary of the massacre,” she added

“And today is the first day of a 4-day event to commemorate the bombing at the school,” Garcia continued.

“Except commemorating it isn’t enough for this unsub,” she said.

“No, he wants to relive it,” Hotch said. “Alright wheels up in 30.” As we all left the room she was called to stay back, but a few moments later she left. She left the BAU, where was she going? Did she get fired already? No, that couldn’t be the case

I walked back to the room to find Hotch, “Where is Y/N going?” 

“She’s going home to pack, shell meet us at the airfield.” And with that, all your worries went away. She wasn’t leaving, she was just packing. 

The rest of the morning went like normal. I had my third cup of coffee, grabbed my bags, and headed for the airfield. I arrived a few minutes early so I could get a good seat on the plane. I ended up sitting at the table for four with the window seat. As I got settled, I noticed she and JJ walking toward the plane at the same time. They were almost indistinguishable. Prentiss came and sat next to me, and to my surprise, Y/N sat across from me with JJ right next to her. We sat on the plane for half an hour before starting to talk about the case. I was able to read about 1200 pages in that time. 

“Perpetrators of school violence are often sophisticated with their weapons. Randy Slade carried his bomb in his backpack. This guy hid his in Givens' clock radio,” I noted. 

“Yeah, and progressive,” Prentiss added. “Each one tries to top the body

count of the one previous.”

“And they're loners by default, not by choice,” she said. “They try to join various social

groups, but they get shut out.”

“Randy Slade wasn't a loner at all,” Hotch said.

“The family cooperated fully with us,” Rossi noted. “He was a high-functioning psychopath, straight-A student, varsity wrestler, lots of girlfriends.”

“With an above-average intelligence that made him incredibly resourceful,” I added. “His explosive of choice was Semtex. It's found at demolition sites, but it's held under lock and key.”

“Which made us consider the possibility of a partner,” Rossi continued. “Never found one.”

“Slade was too much of a narcissist to share credit,” Hotch said. “But he was also an impulsive teen, which is what bothers me about this unsub.”

“His sense of control?” she asked.

“And the end game that he's working toward. Slade's pathology revolved around the big kill,” Hotch noted.  “This unsub could have done the same if he'd waited for the candlelight vigil.”

“Which means there's no blaze of glory fantasy here,” Rossi added. “This unsub has

more bombs made, and he's savoring the anticipation of his next attack.”

“You and Reid can go to the medical examiner when we land to examine the bodies. Morgan, Prentiss and I will set up at the police station. JJ and Rossi, you two will visit the crime scene.” Hotch commanded. Once he finished, everyone returned to what they were doing.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, skylar102!

For @skylar102. I was overjoyed to see your likes included crack fic - which is exactly what I bring you this Christmas. You may recognise the concept and some of the scenes chosen for this fic. What can I say? You’re a very inspiring person!I hope I did the idea justice and that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Much love,Your Secret Santa <3

Read On AO3

*****

Alec Lightwood: The Musical

Rolling drums accompanied him as he ran down the corridor, the sounds of woodwind and strings building as he drew closer to the doorway where he’d heard the commotion. The music drew him in and honed his focus, preparing him for the fight ahead. He strode through the doorway to find an unknown Warlock fending off a Circle member.

The Warlock was tall, almost as tall as Alec. Slender, with figure hugging clothing that hinted at the strong physique beneath. His hair was styled tall and striking, his outfit designed to draw attention. Clearly it was working, as Alec sucked in a shuddering breath. He couldn’t quite explain what he was feeling, but now wasn’t the time to let emotions cloud his judgement.

At that moment, the music broke, a scratching interlude cutting through the air and causing him to wince slightly before giving way to a new song. Alec narrowed his eyes, focussing his stare up at the corner of the room as if he could glare the speakers into submission. As if there were actual speakers there. He sighed and tried to block out the beeping and clapping, focussing instead on the Circle member in front of him.

He scoffed slightly, the arrogant Shadowhunter forgetting all his training in favour of taunting a warlock and not even noticing Alec was there. His limp grip on his seraph blade designed to look intimidating rather than actually being deadly as he waved it mockingly in front of his foe. Holding back an eye roll, Alec raised his bow, taking careful aim and loosing an arrow straight at the man’s heart.

Or he would have had the insipid voice echoing in the room not started moaning in a frankly inappropriate way, distracting him.

You got me trippin', stumblin', flippin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

This wasn’t a song he knew. Usually, in moments like this, whatever higher power decided to curse him with a personal playlist at least chose swelling instrumentals, epic and strong in their crescendos, that helped him focus on the fight - like the song that had been rudely interrupted by… Well, this. Today, apparently someone wanted to taunt him with the kind of music Izzy liked to dance around her room to.

He snapped back to attention as the Circle member yelled in pain, Alec’s arrow piercing his thigh instead. It wasn’t a lethal shot but at least it was enough to drop him to his knees, clutching the wound in agony and cutting off his frankly tedious monologue.

The warlock conjured a ball of electric blue energy, circling his hands to shape it before pushing it forwards into the rogue Shadowhunter, his shoulders flexing elegantly under the patterned material of his jacket. The circle member collapsed backwards, completely incapacitated or possibly even dead.

“Well done.” Alec almost immediately chastised himself internally for the dumb statement. As if a powerful warlock couldn’t take down a wounded Shadowhunter with ease.

Can't breathe, when you touch my sleeve

Butterflies so crazy, ummm, ummm

Whoa now? Think I'm goin' down

Friends don't know what's with me, mmm, mmm

“More like medium rare,” the Warlock responded, turning to face Alec. “I’m Magnus, I don’t think we've been formally introduced?”

The way Magnus’ body swayed as he made his way over to Alec could only be described as a saunter. Every part of his body moving in sync, like each step forward was part of a carefully choreographed, sensual dance. His warm brown eyes scanning Alec up and down, making Alec’s blood feel like lava coursing through his veins.

“Alec,” he stuttered out, cursing his own ineloquence. “Uh, we, should, uh, really, uh, probably, get, uh, you know.” He knew his face would be plastered with a dopey smile. He tried to focus on the mission, remembering all his Shadowhunter training and not let himself be distracted by how handsome Magnus was.

“We should join the party,” Magnus replied kindly, taking sympathy on Alec’s inarticulate stumbling.

You got me slippin', tumblin', sinkin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

Songs:

Moscow Symphony Orchestra - The Charge of the Light Brigade

Fergie - Clumsy

II

Alec fought to steady his breathing, schooling his features into as close to a smile as he could manage. This was supposed to be a happy occasion after all, he was marrying a good match. A woman of strong standing with the Clave, a woman who would help him restore his family’s name and lead the New York Institute to greatness.

The delicate instrumental that flowed around him was more sombre than your average wedding choice, but the music that had followed him for as long as he could remember was always in tune to his feelings as well as the wider situation. No one could ever explain where the sounds came from, no one else could hear them but he had his own radio station that followed him everywhere he went.

To his side, Brother Zachariah finished the traditional introduction. ‘No turning back now,’ he thought grimly, dragging in a deep breath. Lydia gripped her stele, reaching out to touch the tip to the ceremonial adamas block with a small smile tracing her lips. A smile that actually managed to reach her eyes. Alec supposed this was less of a compromise for her at least - she wasn’t hiding herself for the sake of a marriage. Objectively, he could see that she was beautiful. The dress hugged her lithe figure perfectly, her hair elegantly braided into an intricate style. But his observation was purely theoretical, based on appearances only with no deeper meaning behind them. It was like observing an exhibition in an art gallery or appreciating the orchestral chords currently filling his ears. He could recognise the grace and the skill, he could appreciate how other people would form a deep emotional connection, but for him it went no deeper than that.

Taking his hand, Lydia brought the glowing tip of the stele to his wrist to trace the wedded union rune when Alec’s head jerked up. At that moment the door slammed open in the distance, causing everyone else to look up in unison. A fraction of a second later, Magnus Bane appeared in the archway, halting in the middle of the aisle that Alec’s bride had not long since walked down.

Simultaneously, the instrumental had come to a stuttering halt only to be replaced by jarring guitar riffs and sirens.

And I'm glad I crashed the wedding

It's better than regretting

I could have been a loser kid

Who ran away and hid

But it's the best thing that I ever did

If Alec jumped in response, it was at least masked by the distraction Magnus Bane had caused.

Magnus held his head high, focussing his gaze on Alec. Alec felt his heart pound in his chest. In his periphery, he heard his mother speak out but her words were lost to the beat of the song filling the room for only his ears. His siblings were having a hushed conversation behind him, but all Alec could focus on was the warlock standing before him. Dressed impeccably as always, his hair swept high with just a hint of magenta glinting in the tips, his eyes lined with his customary makeup. This. This was what Alec was meant to feel when he looked at Lydia. The steady beat of his pulse, sure and certain. The thrum of electricity that vibrated across every inch of his skin. The way his breath caught in his throat. The sheer force of attraction.

His mom was stalking up the aisle towards the warlock, the set of her shoulders displaying just how angry the intrusion had made her. Magnus merely raised his hand, halting her in her lecture and moving further towards Alec. The display of determination and power frayed at the last of Alec’s resolve. Both Jace and Lydia were reaching out to him with words of support and encouragement. Lydia’s smile was wide but no longer touching her eyes as she tried to capture his attention.

“Alec, hey, Alec,” she leaned towards him, trying to angle herself into his eye line causing him to finally look away from Magnus.

“I- I can’t breathe.” He admitted. The bowtie knotted at his throat suddenly felt suffocating to him.

“I know, it’s ok,” she reassured, her voice soft but certain even over the crashing pop-punk that still assaulted his senses.

'Cause true love lasts forever

And now we're back together

As if he never met her

So looking back

I'm glad I crashed the wedding

“I can’t do this,” he admitted. “I thought we were doing the right thing but this isn’t it.” His words came out rushed, his breath constricting in his throat. He tried to keep his panic at bay but he felt trapped, surrounded by his family, his colleagues and clave delegates a like. There were too many people here expecting too much of him but he couldn’t go through with this.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lydia pursed her lips together.

“Lydia I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you deserve to be happy.” She reached out to cup his cheek, reassuring him with a soft smile. “OK? I’ll be fine.”

He could feel guilty about this later, find a way to make it up to her. Even though he knew deep down that he wasn’t just freeing himself from a future that wouldn’t make him happy, he was also freeing her.

He turned and scanned the room before his eyes settled on the one person that truly mattered in this situation, the one person who made whatever battles he was about to face feel manageable. It might be ridiculous, he might barely know Magnus but still, something told him this was a risk worth taking. He stepped down from the altar, putting a physical distance between himself and the ceremony he’d almost gone through with.

Magnus made no move, no indication of his intentions. Alec gulped, realising this was his move to make. He’d pushed the Warlock away so many times, ignoring their obvious chemistry. Now he had to be the one to make the next move.

Resolved, he pushed forward, long strides carrying him swiftly up the aisle. He saw his mom making her way towards him but he brushed past her, focussed only on the man in front of him.

He grabbed Magnus by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in close and pressed their lips together. Ignoring everyone around him he focussed on this moment, their first kiss. The first of many he hoped. He felt the tension leave his body as Magnus’ lips moved against his. Around him the lyrics continued to echo, cementing in his mind that he’d made the right choice.

'Cause true love lasts forever (true love lasts forever)

Songs:

Chopin - Piano Sonata No. 2 in B Flat Minor

Busted - Crashed the Wedding

III

Alec knew that Max wasn’t the only person he loved who he could lose that day but the relief that his baby brother was alive, talking and already focussed on catching the bad guy was overwhelming. The moment was accentuated by a hum of soft piano music, hopeful notes filled with joy and family and love - a delicate yet mellow melody.

As Magnus made his excuses and turned to leave, the notes of the piano seemed to follow him, an air of yearning filling the room, a cloud threatening to overshadow Alec’s momentary relief. Izzy made eye contact with him, her pointed stare spurring Alec into action. With a sigh, he gave Max one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and followed Magnus from the room.

Magnus was still in the corridor, shoulders slumped and back to Alec. As had happened so often since meeting Magnus, the piano instrumental that had been moving through the day with him stuttered to a stop, almost as if someone had slammed down on the keys. Alec fought back the surprise, knowing that his relationship with Magnus needed to be the priority now. Knowing that he needed to reinforce to Magnus just how much he loved him, how serious he was about their relationship and building a better future for the entire Shadow World.

Magnus knew about his ‘condition’. He’d had no choice but to explain after a particularly ill timed joke from whatever decided his private torture for him. What should have been an intimate and emotional step in their relationship had been interrupted by Alec’s scowl as a crooning voice sang out “let’s get it on,” distracting him from his mission to divest Magnus of his clothes. It had coincided with the reveal of Magnus’ Warlock mark which had obviously not helped the tension in the room at all. Once Alec had explained rather awkwardly, Magnus had been understanding, if a little confused and they had managed to get things back on track. Magnus had even summoned a record player into the bedroom so they could share their first time together, in every way.

But even despite Magnus understanding, Alec was determined to focus on this conversation, determined to right the wrongs. They’d stumbled over communication and he wasn’t going to allow that to continue. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, standing tall in parade rest trying to focus only on the man in front of him.

Please, tell me everything

That you think that I should know

“Thank you, so much, for being here,” Alec stumbled out. It wasn’t what he had meant to say. But it was still sincere. He still was grateful that despite all the drama surrounding their lives, Magnus was still kind enough to be here, to try to help in whatever way he could.

Magnus’s response was equally sincere, even if it felt like a brush off as he couldn’t meet Alec’s eyes as he wished Max well. As Magnus turned to leave, Alec realised this was his only chance to try to recover whatever they had.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Blunt and to the point, but again, his tone (he hoped) conveyed the sincerity he felt in every bone in his body. Magnus paused but didn’t turn. Fists clenching by his side, Alec continued “I should have told you about the soul sword.”

It's just for show, isn't it?

It's my fault that it fell apart

The catchy guitar riffs really weren’t helping him concentrate. And the lyrics, the lyrics needled at his every insecurity. By the Angel, if he ever worked out who was responsible for this ‘gift’ as the Silent Brothers put it, he would personally run them through with a seraph blade. Even Raziel himself would feel Alec’s wrath if that’s what it took. He needed the music to shut the hell up. He needed Magnus to turn around and tell him it was OK. He just needed this to be OK. Maybe if he admitted to his mistake, maybe they would have a shot at working it out.

Magnus turned to him though with such hatred in his eyes. He had finally made eye contact at least. Something which felt like it should have been an achievement but there was not even a hint of the love they had shared in those eyes.

Alec reached out, desperate and voice low, “You and me, we always seem to find our way back to each other.” He reached out and gripped at Magnus’ wrist as if hoping that he could push every single ounce of love he felt for Magnus, every bit of his apology, through that single point of contact.

“Magnus, I love you.”

Well, maybe you need this

And I didn't mean to lead you on

The nasally, pre-pubescent voice continued to grate at him even as he desperately declared his love for the man in front of him. Magnus’ expression softened. It was only a slight shift but it brought Alec a brief glint of hope that maybe this could be OK. Magnus reached up and rested his hand on Alec’s cheek, normally a sign of affection. Alec leaned into the touch as Magnus responded in kind, “I love you too.”

You were everything I wanted

But I just can't finish what I've started

There's no room left here on my back

It was damaged long ago

“But…” Magnus continued, grimacing slightly and sucking in a deep breath, “as a leader, there are difficult decisions I must make to ensure the survival of my people.”

Alec shuffled from foot to foot, searching Magnus’ eyes for any sign that he had completely misheard this. Surely the incessant guitar riffs had addled his brain, this couldn’t be happening? Could it?

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

“The only thing holding me back from doing that…” Magnus continued, looking down at the floor, “is you.”

“No.” Alec begged, fighting his stoic Shadowhunter nature. This couldn’t be happening. They could make this right. They could make this work. “We can figure this out.” He had complete conviction in that at least.

“You once asked me what I was afraid of,” tears had formed in the corners of Magnus’ eyes as he looked up at Alec. “It’s this.”

Magnus turned sharply and walked towards the elevator leaving Alec alone once more, the lyrics still echoing mockingly through the corridor, for Alec at least.

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

Songs:

Jordan Rudess - The Answer Lies Within

Marvin Gaye - Let’s Get It On

New Found Glory - My Friends Over You

IV

Alec paced the ops center, grateful for Izzy and Magnus’ presence even if he still felt entirely helpless. It didn’t help that the demons that had been previously swarming the city had vanished without a trace giving him nothing in New York to distract him.

Sending Jace to Lake Lyn with only Clary for back up had been a truly terrible idea. The distance made the emotions and understanding he could normally get through the parabatai bond fuzzy at best. He knew Jace was feeling unusually stressed, that much at least was evident.

This was slightly concerning for Alec. His parabatai was normally reasonably cool under pressure, thriving on the adrenaline that usually translated to excitement pulsing through the bond. When they went on missions together, Jace’s high energy would counteract Alec’s over-cautious nature, the two of them cancelling out each other’s extreme emotions to neutralise into a collected state of deadly precision.

Whatever was happening at Lake Lyn, clearly it was enough to even rattle Jace. He pushed through the bond further, trying to glean anything more concrete than the tension that currently nudged gently at him. In the background, ominous string music drifted through the room, juddering and foreboding. It was distant enough that it didn’t distract Alec from staring at the comms screen in front of him but it was just alarming enough to have him hovering on the edge of breaking down.

As time progressed his anxiety only grew. He’d ‘opened’ the parabatai bond further than he ever had before, allowing as much reassurance to flow through, but also allowing himself to tug at his parabatai for anything Jace could offer, be it a call for help or reassuring emotions. The more he opened it, the more intense the strings got, increasing in both tempo and volume, like an approaching army ready for battle.

He gripped tight on the edge of the table, the comms room long since empty of anyone but his sister and his ex-boyfriend. He’d snapped at enough of the Shadowhunters on duty that everyone realised it was better to give him a wide berth this evening. There was still no sign of demonic activity in the city and worse, no word from Jace and Clary.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His knees buckled as the voice rang out from nowhere, pain coursing through his body. A white-hot, searing heat emanating from his heart and being pumped through his veins. His parabatai rune pulsed under his flesh, the light graze of his cotton t-shirt feeling like the drag of sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. He pulled his shirt up, watching as the black rune faded to an angry red, then a barely there pink.

Mmm, that you only meant well?

An ethereal voice, distorted and haunting filled the room chilling him to the bone as image after image of his life with Jace flashed in front of his eyes.

The first day they’d met, Alec firing an arrow that just barely missed teenage Jace. The wide eyed stare the blonde boy had given him across the training room was as piercing now as it was when he had first been on the receiving end of it.

Well, of course you did

His arms barely held him up as he scrunched his face up trying to escape both the pain ravaging his body and the onslaught of memories.

Blue flames circled round them, as they gripped each other’s arms, reciting the ceremonial words. Back then Jace had been it for Alec, his entire life wrapped up in what he thought was unrequited love. At the time, Alec had pushed through with the ceremony, despite his doubts, because he thought it was the only way he could ever be close to Jace, the best way to keep Jace by his side. Now he realised, parabatai bond or no, Jace was his brother in all but blood. His teenage crush was just that, a crush. His own confusion around his sexuality manifesting itself against the closest friend he had.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His world was crumbling around him, he felt something solid against his head before his body hit the cool, hard floor.

Jace pulling him tight to him. The soft glow of Magnus’ loft surrounding them. The palpable relief that they’d found his brother, his parabatai, his best friend.

Mmm, that it's all for the best?

Arms cradled him in the present day, against the overwhelming swell of fear and anguish he felt he could almost pretend that this was Jace’s embrace. But he knew the truth. Deep down he knew, Jace was gone.

His breath came in dry, heaving sobs. It took him a few moments to realise that the physical sensations were gone. The pain that he had felt faded to nothing, not even a dull ache that normally followed an iratze. His body felt completely fine. His heart… That was another story.

Lifting his shirt once more, he saw nothing but clear skin where once his parabatai rune had been.

Of course it is

Songs:

Jeff Wayne - War of the Worlds (Instrumental)

Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek

V

Alec fumbled at the buttons of his grey shirt, checking his reflection in the mirror. Normally he wouldn't care about his appearance but today was an important day. He needed to make sure he looked his best for this evening and he had no guarantees that he’d have time after his meetings to come back and change. His movements were accompanied by that annoyingly catchy, synth heavy pop song again. He had to fight not to hum along.

We're no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment's what I'm thinking of

You wouldn't get this from any other guy

Behind him, Magnus sat propped up in their bed at the Institute. Hair soft and falling gently against his forehead in the morning light. He held the New York Times in front of him, scanning the property listings and reading out anything that could be exciting for them. Planning for their future.

Realistically this should be reassuring to hear, that he wasn’t the only one who was in this for the long haul. But Alec’s insecurities were deep-seated and hard to budge. Yes, Magnus might want to live with him, but to commit to a lifetime together? That was harder to believe.

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling

Gotta make you understand

He tried his best to hide his nerves and focus on the information his boyfriend was giving him but Magnus knew him too well.

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” Truth be told, Alec had no idea what the apartment Magnus had described was like. Or it could have been a townhouse? Possibly an open plan loft come to think of it?

“Is something wrong?”

Only that I want to marry you and there’s this damn song playing on a loop every time I think about it...

At the simple question panic swelled in Alec. Spinning to face Magnus, “What, no. On the contrary, everything is perfect. Now that you’re back to your old self,” he gestured at Magnus. His smile felt anything but genuine and his tone falsely cheery. He bit back a grimace at his terrible acting skills.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Magnus murmured, stretching to reach the coffee mug by his side, eyes downcast.

“I just mean now that you're healthy,” Alec clarified, not missing the slight derogatory quirk of Magnus’ eyebrow over the rim of his mug.

We've known each other for so long

Your heart's been aching but

You're too shy to say it

Inside we both know what's been going on

We know the game, and we're gonna play it

“So I was thinking we could have dinner tonight, on the balcony?” He changed the subject rapidly. Spilling out the details of his date night plan before he lost his nerve entirely. “The view of the city, the head chef can prepare something special.” He tugged at the cuff of his shirt, tweaking the folds where it was rolled up against his forearm.

“How romantic,” Magnus looked up at him, a barely there smile on his face but his eyes warm as they met Alec’s, “May I ask as to the occasion?”

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

“There’s no occasion, I just thought it would be nice,” Alec bluffed.

Magnus merely smiled and looked down at his hands, only a slight quirk to his eyebrow betraying his opinion on the matter.

“What? I can’t do something nice with my boyfriend?” Alec probed.

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

“I am one lucky man,” Magnus looked up at him with wide, brown eyes warm with affection.

“Not as lucky as I am,” Alec replied, fighting back the instinctual blush that still threatened to creep up his cheeks whenever he broached conversations of feelings.

“OK, I’ll see you tonight at 8 o’clock,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ cheek before heading for the door.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Magnus’ answer was almost lost to the pop beats still bouncing around the room and assaulting Alec’s ears as he closed the door behind him.

Song:

Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up

+I

The couple moved slowly together drifting in gentle circles, Magnus’ chin resting gently on Alec’s shoulder, a hand warm on his lower back. Around them, their family and friends watched on as they celebrated the love they shared.

Alec felt elated - just a few short months ago he wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel this light, to feel this free. In that time he’d met (and now married) the most incredible, magical man; they’d defeated Valentine; brought down the Circle; taken down Asmodeus; defeated Jonathon and Lillith; and somehow made it through it all stronger and happier than ever.

Magnus’ hand tightened slightly at his back, causing him to check in with the Warlock in his arms, “I’m not stepping on your feet am I?”

“How could you be? I’m walking on air.” Alec could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. They’d got so used to the undercurrent of stress that punctuated their lives and somehow managed to bleed into even the most private moments of their relationship at times, the ability to just live in the moment was liberating.

“I’m confused though,” Magnus continued. “I thought we settled on ‘What a wonderful world’ for our first dance. Did you change the music?”

Alec stepped back, not breaking their hold but just positioning himself so he could see Magnus’ face. “You hear it too?”

I want to see that sweet smile

All of the time

And if I get you a drink, oh

You know I'll squeeze your lime

“I don’t even know what this is?” Magnus asked in confusion, tilting his head to listen closer to the strumming of the ukulele and the high pitched lilt of the woman’s voice.

“Neither do I,” Alec said, grinning in spite of the confusion. This had never happened before, not even Jace had ever heard what he heard and they, for all intents and purposes, shared a soul through their parabatai bond. “If you listen carefully, you can still hear our actual wedding song in the background. It just takes some practice to filter through to it,” he explained.

I wanna buy you things

I wanna make you laugh

When there's nowhere to sit

I'll let you sit on my lap

“Is this what it’s like all the time for you?” Magnus murmured as he pulled Alec back close to him.

“Not all the time. Only when you’re around. The rest of the time it tends to be more like elevator music or classical pieces.” The dainty, sweet sounds of the ukulele washed over him as they continued to dance to the song that only they could hear.

Like a cool breeze after a summer day

I see that smile and drift away

Little Mango

Mango my love

“Little Mango?” Magnus repeated, mischief colouring his voice.

Alec groaned and buried his head in the crook of his husband’s neck. “No. Just, no.”

“But surely this is fate’s way of telling me the perfect nickname for you?” Magnus teased back.

“This could actually be worse than pup,” Alec complained, silently cursing the whimsical lyrics for inspiring this. He prayed to Raziel that it wouldn’t stick.

When you take my hand and dance with me

There's nowhere else I'd rather be

Little Mango

Mango my love

In the end though, he wasn’t sure if he could deny his husband anything that brought such a beautiful smile to his face. After everything they’d been through together, Alec would do anything to keep the man by his side happy. Even if that meant succumbing to the nickname ‘Little Mango’.

Song:

Catey Shaw - Mango

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Eleven

Summary: Ahkmenrah struggles with the aftermath of his confrontation with Nouke. Setshepsut is at last found, and the pharaoh puts Kahmunrah in his place. 

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 7805

Warnings: Mentions of torture, abuse, and blood. 

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​, @edteche2​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Ooooo this chapter! I’m so excited this chapter is finally being posted! This one was one of my top 3 favorites to write, the emotion in it is just.....I just love it. I hope you all do too. Thanks again, SO MUCH for your comments and likes and reblogs. The tiniest nugget validation feeds my motivation. Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

For three days, the pharaoh's men searched Waset for traces of his missing queen without the benefit of insight. Setshepsut had left no note or sign that could hint at where she may have run to. And by the second day with no answers, Ahkmenrah felt pressured to enlist Kahmunrah's help to find her, even when he knew his brother would not heed is want for discretion and mercy. Ahk hated having to rely on a band of mercenaries—they’d left the palace with fiendish smiles and hollow assurances that left a sick feeling in the pharaoh’s gut that was impossible to ignore. Desperation was the only thing keeping the pharaoh from calling them back. He needed to find the sister that he promised to always protect. He needed to find her so he could apologize for the things that caused her to run away. He needed to know she was safe.

Those few days were the longest Ahkmenrah ever remembered having to endure. He’d found no rest, plagued to the brim with worry and guilt while his sorrow festered until it ate away every remaining glint of happiness left inside of him. The fact that he hurt not only one person with his heedless words (or lack of them, too) left the pharaoh feeling as though he deserved to live in this misery he had stirred for the rest of his days.

He cowered behind his crown and golden robes; Setshepsut would never have done something so shameful. She harbored bravery he did not, and he was envious of that courage. She cared little for her station and the responsibilities that went alongside it—running away for her was undoubtedly an easy decision. Ahk could only bring himself to throw caution to the wind and free himself from the golden shackles of his birth for no more than an evening, maybe two. 

He admired Set's tenacity. All it had taken was an exchange of misinterpreted words for her to chase the freedom she desired. Ahk’s adventurous spirit longed to be so bold, but his level mind knew there was too much at stake for him to be so selfish.

And Nouke—his heart ached. 

Nouke, Ahk feared, would never see him in the same light again. All their time together since they were children he had shown her nothing but friendship and kindness. Letting her believe he thought of her as a second prize was cruel. She had always been his only one, and he didn’t tell her.

Ahkmenrah’s mind was so turbulent that evening when she’d come to him. The concern for his missing sister clouded his better judgment and forced him to crave distraction. He’d wanted so much to drown the guilt and worry with selfish pleasure—not once stopping to think how Nouke might interpret his intimacy. And like a coward, he froze when she demanded an explanation—too afraid to come clean of the lies he and Setshepsut had sold to all of Egypt for nearing six years. 

Would she have stayed if he admitted his fervent desire to have her that night was more than a way to subdue the guilt he felt for chasing away his sister? Perhaps, but only once he’d confessed his plan to break his union with Setshepsut. It would have been so easy if he’d only said those words. She would have stayed, and the emptiness he felt would be significantly less crippling with her by his side while men searched to bring his sister home.

Ahkmenrah spent the majority of the time it took to find his sister in his chamber or at prayer in the temple to ensure no one bothered him. Matters with the council and all his other responsibilities went forward without his guidance—Merenkahre stepping in, and Ahk was thankful. Even his meals he took in the solitude of his room. Kamuzu was the only one who stuck with him threw it all, silent and observing.

It was evening when servants brought the pharaoh his dinner plate—quiet as a whisper. Golden rays spilled into the chamber as Ra’s light sank into the horizon beyond the open balcony, but neither the radiance nor the fruitful plate in front of him drew a reaction. He did little more than glance at the existence of each. 

“You must eat, my king,” Kamuzu encouraged in a gentle but stern tone.

A mirthless smile curled Ahkmenrah’s lips as a sardonic chuckle echoed in the stillness of the room, his eyes falling to the tray of food.

“King?” he chided, mostly to himself, listless eyes passing a leer to his crown perched on the table next to his dinner.

A deep breath filled his lungs, and his nostrils flared when he exhaled forcefully with discontent. Idle hands tore pieces of bread from his plate; Ahkmenrah chewed and swallowed before he spoke again.

“I am no king, Kamuzu.” He kicked out the empty chair across the way with his foot, gesturing with a pointed wave for his guardian to join.

Kamuzu blinked at the informal invitation with hesitation but abided without an utterance. His dark eyes stayed trained on the pharaoh, watchful, and concerned. 

Ahk sipped hungrily from his goblet until it was dry. He craved the dull senses several cupfuls brought and was quick to pour himself another. 

“You’re all I have left.” Ahkmenrah filled a second chalice as he spoke and slid it across the table with enough force the dark liquid splashed and stained his fingers.

Kamuzu nodded his thanks as he took the cup, but refrained from sipping.

“You have many people, my king,” he assured Ahkmenrah.

The pharaoh wrinkled his nose in disagreement, taking another long gulp before shaking his head.

“No,” he insisted. “My father as my mother—and she, him. I have four sisters, three of whom have their husbands and their families. Kahmunrah has that band of men who do everything he says…”

Ahk took another drink and sneered thinking about his brother, “…I’ve not known him to want much more than people to boss around...And Set?”

He paused, feeling guilt stab and twist into his stomach as he recalled the tone in her voice the last time they’d spoken—how broken it was. Ahkmenrah stole another long swig hoping to chase away the sudden pain.

“Set took what she wanted. I commend her for that,” Ahk said pragmatically. “Bravery to laugh duty in the face.”

He sighed and raised his goblet, as though he were making a toast, “As for me—I have all of Egypt.” 

There was practically nothing in his tone, yet the pharaoh felt everything as he finished another cupful—oh how he wanted to feel nothing.

Ahkmenrah’s eyes fixated on his mostly untouched meal as loneliness threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel Kamuzu’s gaze and when he risked meeting it, tears began to prickle. A sigh shook a chill down his spine and Ahk struggled to swallow the abrupt lump in his throat.

“How can I have an entire nation and feel so alone?”

A single tear began to slide down his cheek, but Ahkmenrah caught it, brushing it away with the back of his hand and a sniffle. An eerie quiet crept into the room that was too similar to the one the night Nouke had left him. It worked under the pharaoh's skin as he stared into the middle distance while his mind pondered and screamed to him every horrible thing he had ever done. Then, without warning, he blinked out of it.

Ahkmenrah stood, gripping the edge of the table when the room began to spin slightly from the sudden rush and the alcohol in his system. Kamuzu stood too, suddenly alert. The pharaoh cleared his throat and gathered himself, meeting the Medjay’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he forced out in a bravado that was more or less kingly. “I’m tired, Kamuzu. You may go.”

Kamuzu offered a respectful bow and made for the doors. He stopped; however, before he left, hand on the door, as he turned back to face the pharaoh.

“May I speak freely, my king?”

“Always,” Ahkmenrah nodded, meeting his guardian’s gaze, finding his vision fuzzy on account of the number of drinks he’d had.

“You have not lost her."

Ahkmenrah blinked and his brow furrowed, “Who?”

Kamuzu cast him a gentle, knowing smile, “Rest well, my king.”

With the aid of one more cupful, Ahkmenrah did find himself in a deep dreamless sleep that was a welcome reprieve. He woke, however, with a pulsing between his temples and the stale taste of alcohol on his tongue.  

It took several minutes before Ahk could open his eyes completely without going blind. The amount of light cascading into his chamber meant the morning was in its adolescence. No one had bothered to wake him—evidence that there was still no word on his sister’s whereabouts. The new, ever-present, sense of dread dug a little deeper as he rubbed his temples in an attempt to allay the pounding in his head.

Day’s end would mark four since Setshepsut had gone. The thought was enough to strike fear into Ahkmenrah’s heart. If she wasn’t’ found, he hoped it was because she and her lover had found passage out of the city, safely, and not because she was in danger. 

Not knowing plagued him the most.

He cared not that she ran. There was a warmhearted solace in the thought that she was miles down the Nile on her way to the life she yearned for. Ahk only ever wanted her to be happy and if that meant she never stepped foot in the palace again, he could live with that, as long as she was safe. Gods, I hope she is safe…

Despite his restful sleep, Ahkmenrah was still exhausted from carrying the weight of his rampant emotions. Eventually, he worked himself from his bed and dressed for the day, forgoing most of his usual kingly attire. Instead, he dressed only in his ankle-length shendyt, it’s adjoining belts, and a more simplistic wekesh. 

The relaxed finery granted him the solitude as he walked that his churning mind needed. The sights of his chamber had grown tiresome. Ahkmenrah spent the remainder of the morning and into the late afternoon roaming the halls with heedless steps, venturing blindly while his mind wandered.

When the late afternoon began to stretch into the early evening, the pharaoh’s feet were worn almost to the point of blistering. His feet ached but his thoughts were still teaming, needing quiet focus for him to fully make sense of them all.

Ahkmenrah found himself in the spacious quiet of the throne room, Kamuzu and several Medjay guards his only audience. The high seat of the pharaoh felt odd without his usual ornamentation to weigh him down. Nevertheless, he remained, too worn to move until he felt rested. He slouched into the gilded chair, unable to find a more comfortable position.

There was a reverence to the throne room that his own chamber held no more. Ahkmenrah sought to absorb that peace wholly, begging it sink into his overburdened mind and put to rest some of his strife. He let his eyes fall closed—blessedly only empty black stared back, and he surrendered to it. Ahk settled there, floating in an inky abyss somewhere within the depths of his own psyche, finding the stillness he craved. Hours, or perhaps only minutes had passed before the echo of heavy doors opening drew him from the quiet.

Alarm jolted him back to the plight of his reality with a few swift blinks and a frown.

“The guards said they thought you wandered in here.”

The sound of his mother’s voice filled the room warmly, chasing away the glower on Ahkmenrah’s face.

“When your father told me you missed yet another council meeting I knew I had to find you.” Her words echoed gently within the walls and tall ceiling as she crossed the length of the room.

Ahkmenrah shifted in his chair, situating himself into a more respectable posture for a king, but said nothing, still overly focused on his misgivings to speak.

A compassionate smile pressed onto his mother's wide lips, and the beads in her black hair rattled as she shook her head with a sigh.

“You may be a king, but to me, you will always be my sweet boy,” she said gently brushing fingers through his curls in an attempt to tame them. “Tell me what it is that troubles you so.”

Her hand fell to tilt his chin so his eyes met hers.

Ahkmenrah shrugged and looked away, “I’m just worried about Setshepsut, mother.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but his tone gave him away. His mother was much too wise not to take notice.

Shepseheret nodded and perched herself on the wide arm of the pharaoh’s throne.

“Yes, I do see that. There is something more—your heart aches. But not—I think—for your sister,” she paused and tried to smooth out his curls again. “Help me to understand this.”

When he chanced meeting her gaze, the sense of loneliness began to melt away under the warmth of her expression. Ahk’s body relaxed knowing he could let his guard down; he didn’t have to be a king to his mother, and the realization almost sent a wave of tears spilling down his cheeks.

“There’s so much to say,” he said, unable to fully combat the wave of hesitance; five years of a charade to confess to and more.

“Tell me,” Shepseheret urged softly.

With a shaky exhale, Ahkmenrah built up the courage to confess, wanting only to say the right words to ensure he hurt no others.

“Set and I…” he sighed again. “We haven’t been—we don’t. We do not love each other in the way a husband and wife should love one another. Our entire union has been an act.”

There was something profound in saying those words out loud and for a moment, he felt lighter than air. The weight of their secret no longer held him to the ground.

Ahkmenrah paused long enough to gauge his mother’s expression and found only softness on her features. It was her kindness and openness that fostered the rest of the courage he needed to profess all that plagued him.

“All these years we’ve been spending our nights together talking or playing Senet, or simply hating what is expected of us….” It was a miracle neither of them resented each other after so much time forced with each other. Ahkmenrah was glad for that.

A hint of sadness ghosted over Shepseheret’s face. She said nothing for a long time until finally, she sighed.

“I know.” 

“You know?” Ahkmenrah’s brow furrowed, mouth open slightly with shock.

“I’ve known for some time, actually,” his mother confessed, looking somewhat ashamed.

“I don’t understand.” Ahk couldn’t look away, searching for an explanation in her features.

“Who do you think put the idea of a second wife for you into your father’s head,” she said with a twinge of pride. It faded quickly when Ahkmenrah’s bewilderment didn’t diminish 

“Why?” he asked.

The slight look of sadness returned to his mother’s kind smile, “I had hoped having someone of your own would bring you joy.”

Ahkmenrah’s focus fell back to the stone floor, doing his best to digest all the new information. There was hardly space in his mind to store and properly process such things.

“So you knew about Set and Satauhotep?” he asked, skimming through the web in his head to find the right questions to ask.

“I knew she had someone, but not who,” she nodded.

Ahkmenrah thought a moment, sifting through more of his laden thoughts trying to decide which confession he wanted to bring up next.

“It’s my fault Set ran away.”

“How so?” his mother’s brow creased.

“Do you remember Nouke?” Saying her name was like a knife in his heart.

Shepseheret grinned as her eyes sparkled with fond memories.

“Of course. She always had you wrapped around her finger.”

“Still, it seems,” he admitted. 

There was so much to tell his mother. He wanted to start at the beginning: about how Kahmunrah had wronged Nouke and her family, forcing them to leave without a good-bye. Another time, he thought. There was little that could be done about the past, what mattered then was the present.

“She came back to the palace asking for my help—”

“And did you help her?”

“Without question,” Ahk said. “And during those few hours of being with her again, I found joy the likes of which I don’t ever recall feeling.”

A glad smile drew tightly onto his mother’s face, but there was still a hint of puzzlement creasing her brow.

“And how does that make you responsible for your sister running away to be with the man she loves?”

Guilt churned in Ahkmenrah’s stomach with a sickening slosh.

“I promised her that when I found a new bride, I would release her, so she could be with Satauhotep. But I misspoke, and I didn’t catch it. So she took matters into her own hands.”

“I see,” Shepseheret spoke, taking a moment to consider his confession. “But don’t you think Setshepsut should hold some of the fault as well? She should have asked the meaning of your words.”

Ahkmenrah had not considered that. However, he still felt as though he alone was responsible.

“There’s more though, I think,” his mother said, searching his expression.

Ahk nodded and the words forming on his tongue rose with a sour taste, causing him to frown.

“My carelessness was the same with Nouke. Although, that fault does lie with only me,” he said. “She questioned my meaning and I said nothing. Now I’ve lost her also.”

His mother was quiet a long time before she cast him a smile, shaking her head.

“My dearest son,” she chided gently. “My sweet, Ahkmen. Sulking around these halls will not heal your injured heart. Go to her. Speak with her the words you couldn’t before. You will only lose her if you allow yourself to.”

It wouldn’t be so easy. He hurt her, truly hurt her. Still, Ahkmenrah exhaled as he turned his mother’s notions over and over in his mind.

“I fear she now only sees me as her pharaoh,”

“You are a pharaoh,” his mother interjected. “And as pharaoh, no one holds the power to tell you whom you can and cannot marry, no matter their station—noble or otherwise, you can have whomever you desire. You may have one wife, or you may have ten. A hundred women in your harem or none. This world is yours; you need only the courage to reach out and take whatever it is your heart yearns to hold.” 

All at once, Ahkmenrah’s trepidation folded in on itself collapsing under the weight of his mother’s wisdom, and left a hole that renewed hope rushed to fill. The sensation spurred him to his feet and in a fluid movement, he threw his arms around his mother so quickly she hardly had time to stand.

Her gleefully surprised chuckle enveloped him with a tingling warmth, prompting a smile to spread across his face, feeling joy he thought he may never again find.

“Thank you, mother, for your wise counsel.” He squeezed her tight and kissed her cheek.

She hummed pulling away, caressing both sides of his face with her hands, kissing his forehead.

“The gods were unusually kind to give me you. It honors me to share what wisdom Thoth has granted me.”

Ahkmenrah was about to return her sentiment when the throne room doors burst open without warning.

The thunderous reverberation in the grand hall was startling, causing their eyes to glance in alarm to find an array of mercenary guards flooding into the room with Kahmunrah at their lead, adorned proudly in his golden armor, as though he’d just returned from battle with a prize. In his iron-clad grip, dragging behind him, was Setshepsut. Her clothes were tattered and ripped at the hem—ankles bloodied from being hauled like a hunter's kill. Set’s lip bled from a cut, evidence that proved she had not let Kahmunrah take her without a fight.

Beyond his brother, Ahkmenrah made out Satauhotep in chains, beaten and bloody. A large gash on his head spilled a crimson line down the contours of his face, his bare torso bruised. 

The sight worked through Ahk in a wave of rage and horror as Kahmunrah approached—his grin wickedly pleased—with a hubris so powerful it stuck in the air making the pharaoh's anger more intense.

Kah tossed Setshepsut at his feet with no small air of pride, as though she were a trophy to be revered. Ahk’s mouth hung open; the rush of words he wanted to scream stuck to his dry tongue, compiling until he was able to sift through each, granting him the wisdom to force out the calmest reaction he could manage. He exhaled slowly, swallowing the superfluous words, and blinked until the shaken reality settled around him.

“What is the meaning of this, Kahmunrah?” The pharaoh winced inwardly when his voice sounded more terrified then calm—least of all demanding.

“My men found your queen in bed with another man,” Kah threw an errant wave of his hand towards Satauhotep.

The black of Kahmunrah’s eyes met Ahk’s with a fiendish delight that was unnerving to behold. He was proud to have beaten and abused them.

“She has betrayed you, little brother. An insidious crime that is punishable by death,” Kah reminded him.

Ahk stood frozen, teeth set firm against each other. His breathing was deep but much too slow for the rapid pace of his heart. The pharaoh’s eyes were locked in quiet rage with his brother.

Setshepsut’s sobs filled the once reverent room upon the proclamation of her pending execution: an array of short pants, sniffs, and choked plea's spilling past her lips. The sound pulled Ahk’s leer away from his brother and to her. Set's own glances teetered from brother to brother, gauging them, before finally she wobbled to her feet and threw her arms around Ahkmenrah’s shoulders.

She clung to him as though he was all that was keeping her bound to the earth. Without hesitation, Ahk’s arms circled her trembling frame protectively, while she cried against his chest. 

“I’m sorry Ahkmen! Please, have mercy! Forgive me, p-please”

All the anger writhing inside of Ahk subsided; his need to console his sister immensely stronger at that moment. He kept her close, smoothing her disheveled hair.

“Shh,” he murmured. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

He pulled away just enough to meet her gaze, her dark eyes shimmering with tears.

“You’re safe now, Set,” Ahk promised. “I promise”

A breath of relief shook her, and she tried to smile but couldn’t. Then she nodded when words failed to form.

Ahkmenrah kissed her forehead and passed her to his mother’s protective arms, minding the bruises beginning to form on the upper part of her arm from where Kahmunrah had sunk his claws into her.

The moment he saw Set safe with their mother, the fire reignited and his blood boiled. Venom coated every word that left his mouth, no longer burdened with the heaviness of horror that belittled his tone moments ago. A hatred sank into his bones, and for the first time, he was able to meet his brother’s cold eyes with an icy reflection.

“I should have you stripped of every title—every non-tangible thing that keeps that arrogant smirk on your face. You would be nothing without what I have graciously bestowed upon you.”

Never had Ahk seen Kahmunrah’s smile melt so quickly into a frown—one of equal rage and confusion. His teeth ground together as he furrowed his brow, his nostrils flaring like an angry ox.

“Am I to understand that I will be punished for bringing this traitor to your attention?” Kahmunrah stepped forward as if to provoke a challenge. Ahk did the same; the gap between them no more than an arm's length.

Suddenly, he missed the benefit of his crown and golden capes that made him feel like the king he was. Still, Ahk squared his shoulders and raised his chin. 

“She is the queen,” he hissed through his teeth.

Kahmunrah’s nose wrinkled with a sneer as he threw an angry finger in Setshepsut’s direction.

“That unfaithful snake is no queen!”

Before Kah could manage another word, Ahkmenrah sent his fist into his brother’s jaw with as much force and as much dedication he could muster. The power surprised them both; Ahkmenrah almost certain the cracking sound he heard was his own knuckles.

Kahmunrah stumbled, teetering on uneven feet as Ahkmenrah mentally waged how badly his hand would ache once the adrenaline stopped surging through him like fire. The abrupt assault was met with the lot of Kah’s men stepping forward with their hands prepared to draw their weapons—ready to defend their master.

Ahkmenrah tilted his head in challenge, shocked any of them would consider brandishing a weapon at their pharaoh. As if spawned from the very walls, a legion of Medjay flanked their king, Kamuzua at their lead and stepping further to fall in line with Ahkmenrah.

When Kah regained his footing, he did so rubbing his jaw and made a show of spitting blood and a piece of broken tooth onto the floor. A wicked grin—impressed to some extent—contorted his face as he raised his hand to signal his men to come to heel, his eyes never leaving Ahkmenrah’s. 

“It’s good to know you do have fight in you after all, little brother,” Kah noted, seemingly amused and intrigued by the turn of events.

Ahk’s fists balled at his sides, struggling to quell the want to hit his brother once more for all he had done, both past and present. The ache in his hand, beginning to pulse, however, helped curb his desire. He didn’t want to make it worse.

“You will not address me so informally,” the pharaoh glowered. “I am your king, and in the presence of your men, you will address me as such.”

The snide grin on Kahmunrah’s face faltered back into an irritated frown, “Very well. My king.”

He paused before pointing to Satauhotep.

“The boy then,” Kahmunrah suggested. “If you will not abide by the laws of Egypt—”

“I AM the law in Egypt!” Ahkmenrah warned with a growl.

Kah scoffed, unfazed. “Surely you don’t mean to let them both free?” Kah shook his head disapprovingly, making a tsk sound with his tongue.

“Kill the boy, at least,” he suggested again with a nonchalance that made Ahkmenrah hate his brother even more.

Setshepsut’s sobs filled the air again, more quiet plea’s of forgiveness and mercy.

“Then,” Kah added. “Perhaps your queen will learn her place.”

Ahkmenrah took a step closer to his brother, fire, and rage fueling his every movement and gathered himself to his full height.

“If anyone needs to learn their place, it is you, Kahmunrah.” 

In that moment, Ahkmenrah felt three times his size; tall and ominous with a timbre in his voice so sinister he couldn’t completely recognize it as his own. Kah may have been physically larger, but there in the throne room, Ahk saw him no larger than the snake he was.

The bewildered, quiet rage building behind his brother’s eyes was confirmation that he had finally gotten through to him; finally shown Kah, who was king. The notion instilled Ahk with an unfamiliar wave of hubris that he chose to ride for as long as he could. He felt no shame in any of the rage soaked words that spilled from his lips; there was truth in his anger—something carefully harbored and calculated over years of nothing but receiving contempt despite his best efforts to have Kahmunrah as his brother.

Using his fresh wave of confidence, Ahkmenrah stormed past his brother and addressed the regiment of mercenaries.

“You will release this man at once,” Ahk stated calmly to the men securing Satauhotep.

The mercenaries exchanged a glance before throwing their questioning look to Kahmunrah. Ahk stifled his anger and allowed their slight sedition to pass without upheaval.

When Kah nodded, the men surrendered the beaten soldier heedless of his weakened state. He fell forward and Ahk caught him, hastily adjusting his footing to make up for the added weight. 

“I’ve got you,” he assured Satauhotep.

From his new vantage point, Ahk found the soldier’s wounds were much worse than he’d initially thought. His back was an angry tangle of bleeding lash marks; his knuckles were a fresco of purple and yellow markings from fighting off his attackers. The cut on his head still bled, and his wrists and ankles were swollen red from the shackles he wore. The entire sight made Ahkmenrah sick, feeling slightly responsible. He never should have asked Kah to help him find his sister.

“You will be greatly compensated for the cruelty that has transpired today, my friend.”

Ahkmenrah walked him across the room slowly before handing him to Setshepsut and Shepseheret with the instruction to take him to the healers. The two carefully shared the soldier’s weight and Ahkmenrah blinked after them as they left, feeling the sense of confidence and calm wane until all that remained was disgust for his brother.

“As for the rest of you.” Ahkmenrah spoke loud enough for his kingly bravado to carry across the room, while his eyes scanned the numerous faces before him.

“You are to leave my sight immediately. Apart from you.” He pointed to Kahmunrah. “You, I will speak to without the ears of your hired guard.”

A stillness crept over the room as the mercenaries all looked to their master for a command; and that time, Ahk would not let the blunder pass.

Ahkmenrah’s lips curled in anger, “I am your pharaoh! You do not look to him for instruction. Leave! Now!”

Without so much as a questioning blink, the horde of men scattered, leaving Ahk alone with his Medjay and his brother. As he watched them all vanish, he felt no less infuriated. Kahmunrah’s lingering presence was more abhorrent than a hundred men who opposed him.

“I must admit. That display was arguably the most kingly thing I have ever witnessed coming from you.” A delighted grin, gushing with manic amusement twisted onto his features—enough to stir the ire inside Ahkmenrah.  

“Do not smile at me,” Ahk growled, prompting Kahmunrah’s grin to fall swiftly. “Do you think this was all merely an act? Some farce to—to impress your guard?”

Ahkmenrah exhaled deeply, nostrils flaring in an attempt to keep his head clear. He didn’t want his anger to cloud his judgment, but he did allow it to give him the courage to make justified hard decisions.

“If you ever presume to touch any of my sisters again, you will be relieved of your hands. Do I make myself clear?”

Kahmunrah swallowed and clenched his jaw in irritation but said nothing.

“Those men in your service are hereby banished from the palace grounds. You will be granted men from my guard who will see to your protection, and are, undoubtedly, loyal to me,” Ahk paused long enough to watch Kah’s expression twist, angered like a child who was denied their favorite toy. “If you cannot accept this, or you openly question my rule again, I will see to it that you too are thrown from this very palace. Forever.”

Kahmunrah fumed in silence, digesting his new punishment with quiet rage and cold, black eyes.

“Is that all, my king?” 

“No actually. It would be wise for you to keep your distance from me for the time being—I cannot promise I won’t strike you again or have you thrown in a cell.” Ahkmenrah proclaimed honestly, using the same indifference Kah usually used on him.

“Now, get out. I am done with you.”

Kahmunrah, however, remained in spite of the pharaoh’s order, never surrendering his heavy leer, as though he were sizing Ahk up to test him. Fire still burned in Ahkmenrah, and he used it to hone his anger so he could hold his brother’s glare with equal intensity. He knew Kah was waiting for him to fold—to renounce every demand he’d just spoken like the weak ruler his brother thought him to be.

“Get. Out,” Akh growled through clenched teeth.

Finally, Kahmunrah bowed his head—his rage palpable, “Your majesty." 

The second his brother was out of sight, Ahkmenrah called his guardians to arm. Without hesitation, a platoon kneeled before him, waiting patiently for their king's orders.

“Medjay, see to it that every last mercenary in my brothers employ is rooted out and escorted beyond these walls. If any man gives you trouble, I implore you to use force to bring them to heel, thereafter they will be cast into a cell. I will not have blood on my hands—I am not my brother. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my pharaoh!” the men replied in perfect unison.

“Go then. The gods be with you.”

In perfect formation, his men stood and marched out of the throne room, taking with them, his fire. Steam billowed out of Ahkmenrah with a long sigh, all of his anger dulling and relaxing his tense muscles. It felt good to be free of the rage he’d carried. And yet, Ahkmenrah couldn’t help but wonder who that pent-up rage had turned him into, and the thought seemed to trigger the ache in his bruised and bloodied knuckles. Penance—he figured, for acting so rashly.

Kahmunrah was a selfish, power-hungry creature, fed by cruelty; everything Ahkmenrah feared to become. Even so, Kah was still his brother. And while Ahk wondered if he could ever find it in him to forgive his brother for all that had transpired, the pharaoh still held onto the foolish hope that one-day Kahmunrah would see him as a brother, and not the boy who took his crown away from him.

When his nerves finally settled, his fists unclenching and his heart finding it’s normal rhythm, Ahkmenrah felt as though he’d swum the length of the Nile—overwhelmingly exhausted. The fury was gone, vanished just as quickly and quietly as it had taken control of him. Ahk was glad to be rid of it, though, there was a new feeling that was slowly rising to take its place. 

“You should have hit him again,” Kamuzu expressed with an uncharacteristically joking tone.

A weak, almost shocked, chuckle rattled through the pharaoh.

“I wanted to,” Ahk admitted, casting an assessing look to his hand; his nose wrinkled at the sight he found.

The mark was ugly, already turning purple and yellow, as blood trickled in thin streaks from cuts brought on by the force of his assault. Its ache was equal to how it looked.

Ahkmenrah tore his eyes away from his hand unable to look at it or think about the narrative it told. It would serve as a reminder of the man he became when he let his anger stew too long—a man he never wanted to become.

“I should not have done it in the first place.”

From Kahmunrah’s viewpoint regarding the situation, he was in his ground. True, he’d handled it poorly, but his reasoning was justifiable. Ahkmenrah knew the law. Setshepsut knew the law: an unfaithful wife of a king was to be brought to death. Her lover too. That was the law set many centuries ago, and Ahk blatantly ignored it.

What kind of king does that make me? The pharaoh was almost certain the gods would punish him one day for letting matters spiral out of his control.

“I know what you are thinking, my king,” Kamuzu said, surveying the strain on Ahkmenrah’s face. “If I may speak free?”

The pharaoh managed a nod.

“Kahmunrah may not have known the history of the queen and this soldier like you and I. But the gods see us all for who we are in all that we do; they see your kindness and the wisdom of what you have done this day. And for that, surely they will sing you praise.”

Ahkmenrah met Kamuzu’s gaze, feeling relief drift over him upon hearing his guardian's gracious words. Being told that he made a correct decision was a welcomed sensation, especially when he felt as though—of late—every word from his mouth was wrong.

“Your brother needed to be reminded that it is you who is the gods chosen,” Kamuzu continued; purging his own contempt it seemed. “It was wise too, to be rid of the men under his command. I do not trust a man whose loyalty depends on how deep someone's pockets are.”

Ahk bobbed his head in quiet agreement. Ruffians and cast-outs with hot tempers were always the ones Kahmunrah gathered around himself; no longer would Ahkmenrah allow them in his home. They could not be trusted.

“Yes, that decision was long overdue.” The pharaoh paused for a moment, pensive. “But please see to it that he is given good, able, men to protect him. For everything he is and isn’t, he is still my brother.”

“Of course, my king.”

“Thank you.” Ahkmenrah cast his protector a weak smile. “And not just for—”

The pharaoh wasn’t sure how to phrase what it was he wanted to say. Kamuzu meant so much more to him than just the man who guarded him. He’d been his most trusted companion for as long as he could remember—he was a friend.

“Thanks,” Ahk decided on when his words failed him, feeling the proper sentiment, lost, in only a single word.

Even so, Kamuzu’s dark eyes smiled upon him in understanding, “It continues to be my highest honor.”

A full smile unfurled slowly on Ahkmenrah’s face, feeling his friends’ words envelop him warmly, and a little of the loneliness that plagued him dwindled.

“I should check on my sister and Satauhotep.”

“I shall follow your lead, my king.” Kamuzu bowed his head respectfully and swung his arm for Ahk to guide him. 

The wing of the palace where the healers and the priests resided was a journey long enough to lull what remained of Ahkmenrah’s fury. For all the commotion that had taken place moments ago, the halls were blessedly quiet. As soon as the pharaoh came to the large narrow hall, the tranquil scent of healing herbs colored the air, the sound of priests recanting their remedial prayers in a musical chant made the atmosphere of the temple calming.

There were a few afflicted or injured persons being tended to, and Ahk’s eyes skimmed over each of their faces until he found ones familiar to him. When he found them, his feet stopped.

Setshepsut sat next to her lover; her hands cupped around his as men cleaned the lash marks on his back. Despite all that had been done to them—all the strife their love had suffered—they never looked more at peace. Ahkmenrah stood idle, watching them; filling his own heart to the brim with gladness. For a moment, he considered turning on his heel and leaving them be. What he needed to say could wait. He didn’t want to dampen their moment with pleas of forgiveness to make himself feel better. It was they who had endured hardships far greater than his own; they deserved an evening of privacy.

However, when Setshepsut’s stray glance caught him, she jumped to her feet. 

“Ahkmen!” she said with a gasp.

Set ran, throwing her arms around him with enough force Ahk had to catch his footing.

“Please forgive me for running away. Satau had nothing to do with it—it was all my idea. I was foolish!” Her words came out muffled, buried against his neck, and he had trouble deciphering whether or not she was crying again.

Tears did well in his eyes as he squeezed his little sister tight, overjoyed to know she was safe once more. Ahkmenrah would sooner see himself to the executioner’s block than pass a sentence to condemn her. He would never understand how Kah could command such a notion with careless gusto.

“There’s no need for an apology. It is I who should be begging for your forgiveness," Ahk assured her as he held her at arm's length to assess her injuries.

Her eyes were red and puffy—she was crying—but the cut on her lip was already scabbing over. The most alarming was the bruise on her upper arm: a near-perfect illustration of Kahmunrah’s unrelenting grip.

Ahkmenrah’s eyes leered at the ugly mark; jaw clenched once more as distaste for his brother began to churn in his gut. Set’s gaze followed his.

“It’s not so bad,” she said in a soft tone.

Ahk shook his head and swallowed his fury before it could consume him again.

“It was never my intention to break the vow I made to you,” he finally said, casting a glance to Satauhotep. “To both of you.”

“I am sorry.” Ahk kissed her forehead softly, causing her to smile. “I have been the fool—not you.” 

Setshepsut wove her hands around his waist and hugged him again before taking his hand to pull him deeper into the hall. She guided him onto the stool she was seated on previously and perched herself on the raised slab next to Satauhotep. He was seated upright so the healers could bind his torso with clean linen to protect the marks on his back.

Ahkmenrah did his best to mask the frown threatening to twist onto his features, close enough to properly survey the soldier's injuries. All the wounds had been tended to, but the maring was even more pronounced with the number of bandages hiding them.

“I’m so very sorry, my friend,” Ahkmenrah said with sincerity even though he felt the apology did not make up for what he had suffered. “These are the best priests and healers in all of Egypt.”

“Thank you, my king.”

The pharaoh waved his hand dismissively, “No, just Ahkmenrah—or Ahkmen.”

Set smiled his way, her expression coaxing the ghost of a grin onto his own lips.

“Thank you, Ahkmenrah.” Satauhotep tested his name with a furrowed brow.

Ahk nodded his approval with an added smile.

Satauhotep’s grin stretched wider, as though the honor of calling his king by name made up for the terror he’d faced. He reached for Setshepsut's hands and tilted his forehead against hers gleefully.

The simple gesture painted a true grin on Ahkmenrah’s features; his mind made up. He wasn’t going to let them live their romance in secret any longer than they had to.

“I intend to honor my vow,” he stated loud enough and with enough resoluteness they both looked his way.

“Before weeks end, I will see to it that Setshepsut and I’s marriage is dissolved.”

A quick, happy gasp escaped his sister's smile, which she tried to muffle with her hand.

“Satauhotep, you will be granted new ranks in my military—titles befitting a man wishing to wed a princess of Egypt.”

It took a moment for the joy to blossom on their faces, slow at first, until it consumed them entirely. When they shared a kiss, Ahkmenrah let his focus fall to the floor, allowing them that moment to themselves.

The adoration spilling from their open and loving hearts permeated the air with a warmth Ahk’s aching heart clung to with the hope it would dull the pain harbored inside. It was a derelict sort of hope, but Ahkmenrah was certain he could be happy just knowing Setshepsut would live a life of peace. That would be enough—it had to be.

When he stood to leave, Set stood too. 

“What about you?” she asked as though she’d plucked thoughts from his head.

“What about me?” Ahkmenrah shrugged although he knew what she would say.

“Who’s to be your queen once I step down?”

Suddenly, a lump grew in the back of Ahkmenrah’s throat, thick and painful, as his mind immediately filled with images of her. All the adoration he’d siphoned from his sister’s joy failed him; the pain in his heart too strong to be bested. His shoulders slouched, and his head was all at once too heavy to keep from hanging. He swallowed, forcing the lump away.

“Nensala, maybe. She and I sort of--” he paused, his nose wrinkling at the sour taste of his own words; he couldn’t even mask the expression on his face that made it blatantly clear he did not want to marry Nensala.

"We got along,” he husked out finally.

Set’s eyes riddled with a hint of sadness as she frowned.

“What about Nouke?” 

The very sound of her name shot a chill down Ahkmenrah’s spine, and he shook his head, unable to look anywhere but the floor. His shame returning to him vehemently.

“I’m afraid my foolishness chased her away too. The hurt I caused her…” his voice trailed off, too easily recalling the way the spark faded in her eyes when he didn’t fight to keep her. “…I am undeserving of her.”

When he chanced a look to his sister, he was surprised to find her expression one of mild annoyance; slowly, she shook her head.

“You are a fool, Ahkmenrah,”

Ahk threw her a look of confusion and Set rolled her eyes.

“You give up so easily?” she chided. “Go to her—apologize.”

“Mother told me to do the same thing.”

“Then why are you still here wallowing?” Set asked, her brow hoisting high onto her forehead. “Apologize to her as you have done with me. Her affection may be wounded, but you can mend a wound. And usually, what grows back is stronger.”

His heart leaped into his throat—pounding excitedly. Hope could destroy him if he allowed it to settle too deeply; however, he yearned to have it.

“And if she turns me away?” 

Setshepsut shrugged with a soft smile, “Then it is she that is undeserving of you, brother.”

A smile unfurled slowly on Ahkmenrah’s lips and his heart danced against the cage of his ribs.

“I cherish your wisdom, sister,” he told her, laying a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

Set smirked with a teasing look of arrogance, tilting her head pointedly towards the entry, urging him to leave. Ahk lingered, gnawing his bottom lip, feeling the tingle of excitement mix with apprehension in his belly.

“Excuse me,” he finally declared. “But it is now my turn to run away to be with the one I love.”

Set’s simper pressed deeper, “Don’t hurry back!” 

Next Chapter-> Chapter Twelve: How I Have Loved You

[absoluteindulgence]

Whoa

A/N: As I write this, I have 666 followers. Thank you all so much 😭😭😭. I originally wrote this for the valentine’s day server collab but came up with another idea. It’s loosely a continuation of Illuminate. I hope you guys like it~

Pairing: Mirio Togata X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

The world shines brighter after becoming the fiance of the hero known as Lemillion. You smiled more and saw the world through rose-colored lenses. Even solving problems at work with love as the answer, making creative stories and resolutions. There was so much that had changed within you. You never saw yourself as worthy of spending the rest of your life with someone, but looking into Mirio's eyes caused your light of hope to burst into an incurable flame.

Your friends lost their minds when finding out and wanted to celebrate your union. That night of the party ended with Nejire and Toru becoming karaoke queens, only taking Mina's crown because she was in the middle of making out with Kirishima. Bakugou argued with Izuku over the music selection while Tamaki silenced everyone with a grand gift to Mirio and yourself. An eternity clock that glistened in the dark while emitting golden light. He was so hesitant to show you, but when you started crying, he knew it was perfect.

A couple of months after your engagement, the month where everyone goes, lovey-dovey was among you. Your thoughts changed on the holiday that most cared for; it was just another day for you. Mirio liked to enjoy any holiday with you, of course. Still, holidays like Christmas, New Year's Eve, or Valentine's day meant nothing without you by his side. His love knew no bounds, nor never neglected you where the holiday said more than how you felt 365.

After a long shift of heroism, the night before, you laid in bed, not realizing it was finally your day off. You didn't have to scramble to reach for your uniform or try to shuffle out the bed, and yet as you shifted, you were pulled back and brought into a snuggle.

"Don't move, Sunshine," A needy groan escapes his lips.

Mirio's muscular body overpowers you to stay in his grasp, no resistance to letting go. He faintly yawns, and his breath tickles the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps to form on your arms. Your smile is hidden in the covers as the heat from his body radiates onto yours. You're not sure of the time, but it's still too early for the two of you as you drift off back to sleep in his warm embrace.

Hours later, Mirio wakes you up with a tickling match. His method of getting you out of bed, "We can't sleep the whole day away, Beautiful." His smiles are contagious, even with him playing with your sensitive sides.

You give up and try to turn out of bed, miscalculating how far you would go. You roll off the bed, but before you can hit the ground, Mirio catches you through the floorboard. Permeating to catch you in time, and carrying your tiny but toned frame, bridal style.

"Woah there, that would have been a bad tumble, don't you think." He pops up on the floor with you still in his arms. He's precise and lets you down, placing you in front of him. Your smile is goofy as he calls you clumsy.

"Nice to know that anytime I fall, you'll catch me."

"Well, of course, Sunshine! I'm your hero, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah, until you wake me up with tickles." You playfully poke his side, "Then you're my enemy."

A playful gasp leaves his mouth as he pretends to be hurt, "But sunshine, I do it to see your smile!" He pulls you close, smothering you in kisses. Your laughter vibrates through the bedroom, making him more persistent. Times like this, you were happy that both of you were home to enjoy each other's company, and not have to expect any call from the agencies.

"Okay, I get it." You say, catching your breath. Your teddy bear of a man looked at you with a sincere, loving stare, cupping your face and pecking an intimate kiss on your lips, turning less into pecks and more of a lip lock session. He couldn't control himself wanting to hold you at your waist and gripped you tightly as if holding you meant you would never be alone. You were astounded by his passion, meeting him with the same intensity, while on your tiptoes.

He pulled away, flustered with a radiant grin. Mirio had an overzealous passion for you. Remembering when you two were just friends, he wished for days like this—hoping to get close to you and show you what you meant to him. There were too many times that he thought he would lose you to another until that time you confessed your attraction. He always told himself he would cherish you forever, and as the cliche of many, today would be that day.

"Alright, my sunflower, I want you to get yourself ready. I have some surprises that you toogotta see."

With his witty wink, you crack up, never able to resist his pure but corny charm.

Gathering yourself for Mirio's surprise was no hassle, staying within a comfy and cute attire and keeping your hair down to put under a slouchy beanie the same color as your sweater. Ready for the surprise, you meet with Mirio, and as he's finished tying his casual shoes. He stands to stretch and pulls you into a bear hug. The impact of the pull thuds you into his chest, the air almost leaving your body. Pulling out of the embrace, he looked at your flustered face with a smile and placed a tender kiss onto your forehead. You resisted melting in his burly arms.

He smiles kindly, looking back into your shiny eyes. Finally, caving into the hold and glance, you cup his face with a beam too bright, he chuckles. Letting you go, you finish getting ready for the cold air beyond the wooden door of your home. The way he walks over to the coat rack you share brings a silly smile to your face as the walk is goofy in a sense that he pretends your smile has incapacitated him. His playful demeanor lasts until he's finally wearing his coat while you fit yours onto your body, keeping snuggly warm. Mirio walks over to you, lightly cupping your cheek. With a breathtaking kiss, he mumbles, "Let's go."

Roaming the streets made for interesting sights: women screaming whose significant other was better, couples doing more PDA than necessary, and the heart-shaped balloons and flower carts littering the streets. Hadn't reached your final destination and yet there was already so much commotion. Mirio had the habit of taking you to areas of Tokyo usually quiet and reserved for your alone-time to feel more private. But you knew the privacy you sought out for the day would remain at home.

"Rowdy day, huh?" Mirio spoke out loud while holding your hand tighter. Sure enough, he didn't expect there to be crowds of crazed lovers, but it wouldn't deter him from getting closer to the surprise he had for you two. Although subtle, his determination burned brightly into his eyes, the anticipation of seeing your smile driving him. "Nothing we can't handle."

Mushing through the crowds in the chilly weather sought out to be an easy feat with Mirio holding you close as he glided through people as if he could almost walk through them. Amazingly enough, no one noticed top-ranked heroes among them. He was dodging everyone while still able to grip your hand through it all, turning down a cold, dark alley. He hadn't looked at his phone for some time to make sure the map was correct, but he read the reviews and knew what to expect.

You look at him in horror as you two pace down the alley, from the boorish and amorous energy on the streets to the silent dead-of-night atmosphere. Huffs of air escaped your lips as you reached the door of what seemed to be a restaurant. The door lacked any color resembling warmth, taking pride in its icy grey tone.

You looked up at Mirio with skepticism as he looked back at you with a captivating grin, "This is it, Sunflower."

He knocks on the door with a light tune in mind, within seconds the door opens and before either of you could step forward, warm, inviting lights and a delightful savory aroma bombarded your senses. Mirio jokingly escorts you in a true gentleman fashion, "M'lady."

Playfully, you curtsy back then enter the two-faced establishment. Walking in, you're more subject to the beauty of the cozy lights littering the high ceilings. At the same time, the posters and plaques on the walls neatly decorate the homey vibe. You see that the tables were placed at corners of the room to cater to the patrons coming in. Either they were always stationed there or done up for the beautiful holiday. From top to bottom, it was hard to believe that it was a Ramen restaurant.

A woman came from the kitchen area with a warm smile on her face, heart-shaped apron on, and a wooden ladle in her hand—the embodiment of a young housewife in love. Without any further ogling eyes, she expresses her welcomes with a pleasant, soft voice.

"Hello, newcomers! Welcome to 90% Love!"

Holding Mirio's hand tighter, you reply in unison, "Hi!" 

"Please, take your seats anywhere you'd like."

She raised her hand to show off all the empty tables around the cozy, compact eatery. Mirio hastily leads your hand to one of the square tables closest to the wall. Pulling your chair out for you after you sit down, he pushes your chair to be close to the table. Mirio pulls out his to rest his legs and doesn't bother to drag his back in due to his legs fitting awkwardly. You giggle as he shuffles in his seat, trying his best to get comfortable. He looks at you while you attempt to hide your face; of course, he saw, and now he's laughing with you.

"That's okay that I don't fit." He shuffles after finding a comfortable compromise between his thick legs and the low table, "I just want to make the day special for you."

The touch of his hand caressing yours felt lovely, thanks to the environment. You reply with a bright grin, and his face turns a vibrant hue of pink, and his heart stops a beat. "Gee, Sunshine, the way you're looking at me, reminds me of the exact reason why I'm going to marry you. I want to see that smile for the rest of my life." 

Your face retaliates with the same color on his face, with your free hand, you cup your cheek, "Stop, you flatter me too much!"

His laughs booms through the room, "If I don't tell you, who will, Sunshine?"

Soon after, a man lays a friendly pat onto Mirio's shoulders. There wasn't much noise to their steps, nor did either of you see him pop up behind your fiance. There was a pause, but before you could respond, he spoke with a wide grin plastered onto his astonishingly young-looking skin.

"Hello Heroes, what would you like to eat? We have ramen of the day, Spicy ramen of the day, and the love bowl for this day!"

He spoke so critically that you didn't ask for a menu, as you thought over your options, you chose the love bowl while Mirio chose the spicy dish. The man taking your order bowed with gratitude and walked to the kitchen. Your focus back on your buff hero, his right knee became jittery thinking about the spices he would encounter.

"This restaurant is so cool; I'm glad I found it and get to spend my first time here with you!"

You nodded as your fingers trace over the golden oak wood onto the lovely, soft, and cream-colored cloths to cover most of the table like a placemat. You were more than happy to be there and couldn't wait to eat, all the walking you did to get there truly worked up an appetite. "I agree, my love."

Moments passed, and both the man and woman running the shop held your bowls of ramen. The lady placed yours first, wishing you to enjoy the meal. The man next put Mirio's down in front of him and the same, but with different energy tells him to enjoy as well. You look at the two workers and thank them. As you dive into the broth and take a sip, your eyes immediately turn into stars. The flavor matched how brilliant the bowl of noodles looked. Finally, indulging the noodles, they were just as delicious if not more than the broth. With no more thinking of your hunger, you dived into the meal.

After you two demolished your food, you sat in silence, enjoying your full stomachs with light sighs of satisfaction escaping. You sat in disbelief, wondering how you've gone your whole life not coming to this quiet yet amorous ramen shop. Looking at your now-empty bowl, you paid attention to the beautifully assorted shades of pink in the shape of a heart. Your fingers trailed, admiring the art.

"How was the food?" The sweetly soft voice of the woman rang in your ears as you looked up to see her smiling face.

"That was amazing, I've never had ramen like that!"

"I'm so glad that you liked it. It seems like your beau enjoyed it too."

Looking at Mirio, he was sniffling, smiling from the spices of the broth. His smile was bright and could only nod in satisfaction as a response. Both you and the woman giggled together as he gathered himself, to ask for the check. With a nod, she left to tally up the order only to come back with the man who made an appearance earlier. A puzzled stare ensued from you two as they walked closer to your table.

"Hello, again heroes, nice to formally meet you. We are the owners of this establishment." As they stopped in front of the table, you did your best to bow back while still sitting.

"No need to be formal with us little lady, we know you heroes work hard!" The man grinned while placing his hands on his hips in pride.

"We just wanted to formally congratulate you on your engagement and wish you many years of light and love."

The woman smiled with her hands clasped close to her chest; it was too sweet encountering this lovely couple. They politely went on to tell you of their marital status and how they met. They enclosed that they've been married for 50 years, and your jaw dropped. They still looked like a young couple in love; the husband laughed and shared their secret with you.

After paying, Mirio left a huge tip, thanking the couple for their business and promising to come back. Warmhearted and yet serene as you two left the shop, the air outside was still brisk. The breeze automatically pinching Mirio's nose red, he held your hand as you looked up at him. A grin appeared before kissing your forehead and trotting to the main street.

Arriving back to your home, you shed your outerwear into something comfortable, relaxing in the living room. Spending the day with your fiance was more than enough to keep you content. He did the same with his coat, hanging it up and plopping himself next to you, wrapping you within a bear hug. His burly arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and he exhaled, showing how cozy he felt holding you. You placed your hands on top of his, closing your eyes in the midst of it.

"You know Sunshine, seeing that couple back at the shop, makes me think about how our future will turn out." He shifted himself to pull you in closer to his broad chest, "Young, happy and in love. Even if we're 100 years old, we'll still be young at heart; I see all that with you."

"Do you also see us having a ramen shop too?"

"Well, that's if you want to, I wouldn't mind at all! Having your cooking is already one of my favorite past times, we can make ramen together!"

You laugh at his excitement, "Well, maybe we could just learn from that couple? I don't think they would be against it."

He gasped, "Babe, you're right! They already like us, we should go back!"

The vibration of his chest as he spoke comforted you, and hearing his voice made you nuzzle into him as you drifted off to sleep. Mirio was mid-sentence until he listened to your light snores. He rested his head close to yours and enclosed you to his chest with a light yawn, joining you for an "itis" nap.

[cowandcalf]

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No.6 - Ocean

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Danny kicks the entrance door gently open. "Coming in!" He shouts into the room before he hesitantly steps in, guarded, and with perked ears. He still doesn't know what's up with Steve. He's definitely ex-military or special ops, definitely ex-elite. "Hey, Steve, give a sign so I know that you know I'm coming in. You gave me quite the show out there." He calls and listens but all he hears is irritated, half-loud breathing out from the left.

It's a funny building. The façade is a solid brick wall with windows but behind the door, space opens up into one big room. It's spacious, simple white walls which have seen better days. The wooden planks on the floor are worn and dusty but add a comfy touch to the atmosphere. The set-up in the single room is sparse: there's a large navy-blue couch with a few strewn pillows pushed against the wall, right under a big America flag that is pinned to the wall.

Steve watches him with certain alertness. "Weapon's on the table. I'm not going to shoot you. If I have wanted you off my ground you would be already on your way back where you came from. I wanted to scare you off. Didn't work. You're still here." Steve states calmly. "You know Kame and you've brought food. You've gained some credit to negotiate."

There's something in Steve's voice. Danny's heart answers to the silent undercurrent. Heat spreads over his torso. "Negotiate? About what? I'm the one with the food, smartass." Danny chuckles. "You know, that's not the best way to start a conversation with a guy you don't know." Steve doesn't answer.

Danny makes out about three dirty raincoats on a racket on the wall and several bags of potting soil piled up in the corner. "Play nice, Tarzan. I come in peace." Danny strolls into the big room and sees the makeshift kitchen built from a table at the other side. He spots an electric water jug, a tray with different sized mugs, a fridge and the stuff people need to eat and cook. "Do you live out here?" He asks.

"You ask too many questions for a guy who plays a delivery boy." Steve leans against a super long and old wooden table. He darts him a hot, dark look. Danny's sure Steve aims to be intimidating but all Danny could feel is more heat spreading further south.

"Touché." Danny grins and juts his chin out. "What are you doing with all the baby flowers? Planting? Dotting the jungle with colors? Creating a magic garden?" He points behind Steve where a heap of fresh soil sits in the middle of the table. Steve must have potted flowers. The chaos has an order and next to the small, empty flowerpots are a few plastic crates with a large variety of baby flowers. Danny sweats and the flutter of nervousness makes him run his mouth.

Steve has his feet crossed at the ankles and his hands rest on the rim of the wood table. "Why is it so difficult for an HPD Detective to imagine a man doing gardening, invested in the flora and fauna of Hawai'i?" Steve slips into a defensive mechanism and wears a harder streak around his mouth.

Danny knows he has to control his brain to mouth filter. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I know, it's super impolite to ask prying questions but you held me at gunpoint. That was rude and I guess I've earned the right to go a bit off the rails with the rules of how a stranger behaves in a guy's private room." The lunch bags noisily land on the wooden surface of the smaller kitchen table.

Steve eyes him with high concentration and an unreadable face. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

"Safes lives," Danny answers without batting an eye. He keeps his cool but feels Steve's tension like barely-there electricity. His hair on both arms feels sensitive to the unfamiliar vibes he tries to analyze. Danny gestures a bit bashfully into the direction of Steve's baby flower collection. "I was disrespectful. I'm sorry if I've offended you. I just wanted to break the ice, get the talk going, you know."

"I'm not offended, annoyed would come pretty close though. You talk a guy's head off and I'm hungry. I don't like to waste time. I have to finish my daily workload."

"Duly noted," Danny turns his head. "Got any plates?" He feels like the fifth wheel. Steve and his plants are a solid union and he's the intruder. He can't shake the feeling Steve would want him to leave. This dark, dangerous, super handsome man gets antsier the longer Danny stays in a close range.

"And they're called seedlings or offset, not baby flowers." Steve pushes off the rim of the table he has leaned against. His voice is defensive. "Wash your hands first. Hand sanitizer is over there." He orders and points to the corner with the sink.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to contaminate your private rooms. I can assure you I'm very cautious and I take the rules of the Lockdown very seriously. Do you want me to put my mask back on?" Danny walks over to the washbasin and turns the faucet on. The liquid soap squirts on his hand. He cocks his head and glances over his shoulder. "Do you need me to put my mask back on?" He asks again.

Steve's bleak expression quickly turns, he scowls. "No."

Danny nods and watches, lost in thoughts, how the water swirls before it vanishes down the drain. The sudden mood-drop takes him off-guard. The light banter hasn't breached the steel walls Steve seemed to draw up when Danny turns his eyes in his direction. He feels sad. The dull emptiness swashes in his stomach and steals his appetite. "Do you want me to leave?" He has no idea why he asks this. It's important to hear Steve's answer.

Steve takes his time to reply. Danny dries his hands with paper towels. He tries to find the waste bin. The longer Steve makes him wait for the answer the more determined Danny gets to stay. "Okay, big guy, I get it. You don't like visitors. You don't even like visitors who bring food. And I'll leave but you just have to say it. I'm not offended. I can eat my delicious shrimps somewhere on a rock, gazing over the ocean. I just thought you might enjoy the company."

Steve has his arms crossed over his chest. A sheen of sweat covers his upper body. Danny notices the way he balls his fists and how his biceps bulge. Steve is nervous. The realization hits Danny. He keeps Steve in his sight and steps toward the big, old wooden table. Steve's stance is wide. He seems to feel uncomfortable. "You can stay." He says flatly. The vibes he gives off make Danny's neck muscles tense.

"Okay, let's eat then and I'm out of your hair." Danny grabs the bags. He still hasn't found plates. It's not very stimulating to notice Steve's not supportive. Maybe the unexpected disappointment Danny senses on his tongue makes him act unwary. He spots the waste bin at the other end of the seedling station. Steve's wary gaze gets him clumsy. Danny steps forward to throw the paper ball into the waste bin but he bumps into the corner of the huge, old table.

Everything happens in slow motion. Danny watches how the impact makes the freshly repotted seedlings wobble before three pots tumble over the edge and start to fall. Danny hears the surprised and fearful gasp from Steve and he expects this athlete of a man to leap forward to catch his babies. Instead, Steve freezes and Danny has his hands full with the bags of shrimps and the paper towel. He's too slow. There's this split second where he watches how the pots get pulled down to the floor by gravity. He decides to hold on to the food and drops the paper towels. He tries to catch one of the pots, without success.

The loud noise of cracking clay pots seems to detonate in the utter silence. Danny feels the hard push of hands and he stumbles. Steve rudely shoves him aside. Danny hears Steve's harsh panting he sucks in air like a drowning man.

"I'm sorry, Steve. Shit, sorry man. I didn't mean to – "

"What have you done?" Steve crouches on the floor, hunched over the broken pots. His hands fly over the spilled baby-plants without coordination. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" He yells.

Danny doesn't understand what's happening. He watches helplessly how Steve falls apart right before his eyes. "Steve, I'm sorry. Come on, let me help you." He drops the bag with lunch on the floor and squats down. His hand comes down to rest gently on Steve's shoulder.

Steve's wild. The angry jerk has Danny almost drop on his rear. His hand got swatted off aggressively. "Go away. Leave! You have to leave, I need – I can't," Steve's voice is a hoarse croak, laced with a fear Danny can't grasp but he’s more than willing to try to understand.

"Hey, buddy, let me help you."

"They're hurt, god, I have to – I have to," Steve murmurs to himself. Sweat runs down his temple and leaves a wet track in the smudge of dirt on his skin.

Nausea sets in the pit of Danny's stomach when he sees how Steve shakes. Within seconds he's covered in sweat and collapses slowly with his entire focus on the plants on the floor. His hands scoop up the flower dirt around the naked plants. The gentle, white baby-roots show and one of the young leaves is broken. Steve seems heartbroken. He cups them with both hands, his breathing ragged.

Danny can't move, too frightened by the shocking realization about what he's witnessing. Steve is caught in a world Danny can't see but he senses in what kind of horrible loop Steve has been sucked in. Battlefields. War zones. Destruction and death, agonizing memories Danny can't even start to fathom how unsettling those inner images must be. They seem to rule Steve's presence. The broken clay pots have flipped a switch.

"They'll make it. Yeah, you'll be fine, fine. I'm not giving up on you," Steve's eyes dart over to Danny.

The wild, helpless look on his face kicks Danny into motion. Steve must have lost friends in horrible fights, bled to death, nasty bullet wounds in impassable areas with no help to get them out alive. Danny has no idea if he's interpreting the situation correctly. Sever PTSD has many faces. And he's sure he stares in one of them now. Danny only knows he has to help Steve save the plants no matter how ridiculous this might seem. They're more to Steve than just plants. They're his friends who got killed in action. The ones Steve couldn't save.

Danny jumps to his feet. "I've got you, Steve. I'm here. We'll save your plants. Let's – " he walks over to this proud, brave man who's hunched over, unable to snap out of it. Danny empties one of the crates and is back at Steve's side in a second. "Put them in here. We'll pot them in new and bigger flower pots, okay? Here, lay them down, yes, just like that. They're strong. They're gonna make it."

Steve's hands shake uncontrollably. Danny tries not to stare at the strong arms and the helpless way Steve's experiences as a soldier let him crash completely. He's drowning in an ocean of bad memories that have messed so terribly with the emotional state he almost keens over baby-plants on the floor. "They're gonna be fine, yes," Steve mumbles and does as Danny says.

Danny wants to cry. The cruelty and the unfairness of the world cut through him like a glowing blade. He hands Steve the crate with the saved flower seedlings. "Let's get up. Come on. They need your care, new soil, and some water." Danny grunts when he pushes himself up. His knee screams with pain from kneeling for so long. He pushes the pain aside. "Steve?" He whispers.

Steve's hunched over and cleans the floor with his bare hands. Damp soil seems to be everywhere. He scoops the spilled soil to a smaller heap, totally caught up in this mundane action. Danny's eyes catch the tremor in his left hand. He bites his lips and waits a moment to collect his emotions that are all over the place. "Steve? Come on, buddy, get up." Danny touches Steve's shoulder once again, cautious and butterfly soft fingertips graze over Steve's bare shoulder. He waits and almost sobs when Steve twitches and shuffles to get up from kneeling on the floor but waits instead.

Danny doesn't know what to do. "I uh, look, I put the crate on the table. Your babies have enough earth. You take your time, okay? I'll, uhm, I'll go and make some coffee." Danny puts the box on the wooden table and turns his back to Steve. He washes his hands under the faucet. He bites his tongue and swallows the shock.

He listens with a wild beating heart when Steve gets up. Nothing. He hears nothing after that. He slowly turns around and holds his breath. Steve hugs his upper body, rocking back and forth. His breathing is labored and he still seems to be a prisoner of the relapse he experiences. His shirt is soaked in sweat. His skin glistens in the evening light. Steve looks lost.

Danny tosses the rag with which he has dried his hands in a corner of the makeshift kitchen. He knows from police training that people with an anxiety disorder need different tools to flip the switch, to get out of the loop. He has no idea if Steve has such a toolbox or if he needs something else. He has to try to get him out of the destructive undercurrent of the dark, dangerous ocean he has been sucked in. It's Danny's fault, Steve's such a mess. It's his fucking fault. He has to try!

"Steve," Danny whispers, scared to spook him with a too-loud voice, "what do you need?"

TBC

Also on AO3 - To Find A Way

[arabrot]

Who Do You Love by John Doran

Who Do You Love?

We drove 5,000 miles of barbed wire.

You’d think that by travelling that distance around a country you could get the measure of it. Especially if the country was only 361 miles from top to bottom and even less from East to West. You’d be thinking reasonably but not accurately.

Despite journeying the equivalent of one fifth of the circumference of the entire Earth in 31 days, all we got to see was the road itself. England endless. What we experienced was just a percentage of a splodge, a smidge of a blotch on the coastal fringe of Europe that deserved neither the sobriquet Great, nor the title United. How did such a small area of land contain such extravagant lengths of major road? In the same way that a human body could house a tapeworm 33 metres long. Probably not comfortably but hopefully not fatally either. Undoubtedly, in May 2015 - general election month - England had beauty to spare: it’s just that none of it was visible from the motorway.

We met on the forecourt of a petrol station near an airport. Heat haze was already starting to rise from the tarmac. The Driver was dressed immaculately in a tight-fitting black suit, shades and wide-brimmed black hat. His concession to non-monochromatic decoration was silver chains carrying cocks and crosses. He looked like Asa Hawkes, the “blind” preacher from Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood - but much thinner. He tipped the brim of his hat hello. This was not his stage hat but his everyday hat. His stage hat, the kind of prairie Stetson featured in the opening scene of Holy Mountain was massive and kept in the kind of box that suggested it was an essential part of a drum kit. It had its own carefully allotted slot in the back of the van with the tons of amplifiers, speaker cabinets, guitars, synthesizers, boxes of books, suitcases full of clothes and bags and bags of oranges we were taking with us. There was only one way to fit all of this stuff into the vehicle, and packing it correctly was like 3-D Tetris. All it took was one giant, impractical hat in the wrong place and then everything had to be taken out again and reloaded in the correct position.

He was the colour of milk, which made the angry red scars up either side of his neck all the more vivid. He looked like the missing link between human being and some future race of Lovecraftian eel-men who would be able to breathe via gills under water.

As well as me and the Driver, there was the Passenger. She looked more like she had stepped straight from the set of Bladerunner than a Jodorowsky or John Huston movie. This was to be their last tour as boyfriend and girlfriend as they were headed straight to a deconsecrated church in rural Sweden to get married as soon as the trip ended. I was merely a temporary guest in their world. A road voyeur with a month long pass.

Within minutes of setting off we hit the M25 we became enmeshed in May Day traffic. I realised that most of the month was going to be spent looking at slow moving traffic on motorways.

But just as driving to Brighton was slow and painful, leaving it the next day was a dream. On the motorway, time stretched and contracted simultaneously in temporal doppler effect. The days seemed longer but time blistered, popped and broke apart pleasantly as the brain switched down a few gears into a near pure experiential mode. There was little to worry about. All I could do was count the pylons and pretend I had a flamethrower to aim at UKIP billboards and hoardings; to luxuriate in motorway sign typography and listen to Maggot Brain as loud as it would go. Miles Davis’ Agharta was the soundtrack to us speeding out of the south up the M1 towards the Rainy City. Al Foster’s ringing, open hi-hat was our fuel. And then it was nothing but John Coltrane, Electric Wizard and NOMEANSNO until we reached our destination. It started raining the second we hit Stoke. And then before long we were on the Mancunian Way heading for Piccadilly in torrential rain, parking the van under a tangle of flyovers. When I planned this jaunt it was a thing of beauty. I took an AA road map and unfolded it until it covered half the floor space in my tiny living room. I took a sheet of stickers from my son’s Thomas The Tank Engine magazine and created a spiral of towns and cities, first round the edges near the coast and then spiraling in toward the centre. Our proposed journey looked like an occult temporal and spatial message only discernable from the god perspective. What I planned was a perfect thing. But after you plan your perfect thing what happens is this: promoters start phoning you up or emailing you. ‘We’ve double booked you with a Stereophonics tribute act’; ‘There’s actually a bar mitzvah on that day’; ‘It’s Record Store Day.’ And then the perfect thing falls to pieces. By the time we hit the road the perfect thing looked like that terrifying film of a spider on LSD trying to spin a web. And there was only one thing worse than a spider on LSD trying to spin a web and that was a spider on caffeine trying to spin a web.

We stopped for several coffees en route to Sunderland the next day. The weather was beautiful. Fields of golden rape seed glowed under a blue sky. But I gave up counting the UKIP billboards. There were just too many. The purple pound signs zipped past in a blur. We’d been on the road for five days and I hadn’t seen a single sign for Labour. It was almost a relief when we passed a huge hoarding in an arable field next to a broken tractor which proclaimed: “Prepare to meet your Lord!” We pulled in soon after to stretch our legs in front of a petrol station that shared a forecourt with a sex shop wrapped in a large tarpaulin hoarding, proclaiming: “Under new management!” Next door was a garden centre flying a row of ten confederate flags and two Union Jacks. There was a knackered and rusty jet stream caravan serving up plastic cups of filter coffee.

It became clear early on that the Travelodge was our friend. Every Travelodge the Driver, the Passenger and I shared was identical. A family room. One double bed, one fold out couch bed, minimal decoration, very interesting mass produced art, scant furniture, tea making facilities and a portable telly, often chained to the wall. The Travelodge may have had less furniture in it than the average bail hostel and may sometimes have smelled like a suburban pet shop from 1984 but it was totally fine as we were low ranking touring musicians and writers, not visiting dignitaries from Saudi Arabia.

After Leeds, our Travelodge was situated in a motorway retail park so the following morning we walked just a few hundred yards to the Toby Carvery for breakfast. Pushing open the double swing doors we were confronted by a man in stained chef’s whites, with hair pushed under a light blue plastic turban crowning a jowly and crimson face. He was methodically and noisily applying a large cleaver to a foot long cylindrical sharpening steel with a schnick-schnick sound.

“Hello!” said the Driver cheerfully. “Are you Toby?”

The chef looked up slowly and a pendulous and translucent bead of sweat swayed under his nose. His eyes were like drill holes in gammon. Bruised udders of flesh were hanging below each of his nicotine-stained ocular orbs. He was possibly the most hungover man I had ever seen. He jawed away silently, his eyes flickering dully with rage as he started straightening up. The BPM of metal on metal increased. The three of us circled round him gingerly and headed rapidly for the breakfast counter past tables rammed full of people who looked like they were about to die. I had never seen so many morbidly obese people in one place at one time. It was like God’s waiting room with unlimited fried egg.

Oh England, you are sick.

It was only £5 per head and you could eat as much as you wanted but the choice was only bacon, sausages, roast potatoes, black pudding, fried egg, fried bread, beans and mushrooms. The thrill of the open road. Unlimited roast potatoes and bacon for breakfast.

(We spent just one night at the supposedly more upmarket Premier Inn, and it was relatively more luxurious but due to its incomprehensible automated reception machine, it took us an hour and a long conversation with two angry Premier Inn employees to gain access to our room. “Getting into this hotel was like the opening scene from a new episode of Black Mirror”, said the Driver, a recent convert to the show. “There’s nothing like waking up in some shitty English town, before eating some shitty English breakfast before driving slowly down some shitty English motorway for 12 hours before loading into some shitty English venue and playing a shitty gig to ten people before going to some shitty Travelodge just to watch a really well made English TV series which explains to you exactly why everything is so fucked”, he told me gleefully.)

Any hotel room was actually very much like home as long as you had a laptop, a handful of Nick Cave CDs, some Right Guard and a copy of Threads on DVD, which happened to be the exact contents of my overnight hotel bag.

Waking up in another identical Travelodge on another identical Motorway retail park the next day I realised finally that this was literally the worst place for a writer to be during general election month. Nowhere had wifi that worked. It was like being in a bubble of ignorance for 31 days. We had to choose these parks to minimise the chances of the splitter van getting stolen with all of our gear inside it. Every Travelodge we stayed in was essentially the same, surrounded by a handful of other outlets - a Toby Carvery or a Harvester or, if you were really unlucky, both of them. Then maybe also a Costa, a Boots and an Esso petrol station as well. They were all accessible from a motorway roundabout that wasn’t really near anything other than either an airport, a prison or an industrial estate. A vague hangover from reading JG Ballard as a schoolboy led me to believe that there would be some kind of mind-expanding nourishment to be had from this aspect of the venture but these motorway retail parks were all identical. They were the most co-opted and least free spaces of all.

After breakfast, outside, sitting on a wall drinking a cup of tea in the sunshine, I looked intently at a semicircle of rooks surrounding a single bird of their own kind. They were slowly advancing in toward it. The bird in the middle was stock still and not moving. It didn’t look like a friendly encounter. The Driver and the Passenger came out and joined me. The parliament were just about to attack the accused in order to peck it to death but just as the corvine jury bore down, they were disturbed by a loud noise from above. The Red Arrows flew over the Travelodge in formation causing them to scatter  It felt almost as if the Driver existed in a bubble of weird, uncanny, apocalyptic and esoteric events that moved with him wherever he roved. But it was also as if he barely noticed any of them. I stood pointing at the sky.

“Yes, yes” he snapped irritably as if he was sick of seeing this kind of thing. “Let’s get in the van and get off otherwise we won’t get to Digbeth in time.”

That night I dreamt that the solid iron core of the Earth was about to slough us all off until the planet stood raw and bleeding in space, just roiling magma with no skin to contain it. The utter indignity of being born between waves, the scions of a pusillanimous age we were all about to be cast into the void with the filthy scab of a country we called England. A flat and unmagical land. A depressing and tawdry place. When I opened my eyes Toby was stood in the corner of the room, sharpening his cleaver, schnick, schnick, schnick, schnick. Empty eye sockets carved out of rancid, fly-blown gammon.  

“We have to stop eating lunch at the Harvester!” I sprang out of my fold out bed and shouted at the Driver and the Passenger, waking them from their sleep. “The full rack of ribs is fucking killing me!”

Fuck the Harvester. Fuck Toby Carvery. All of the clothes that were hanging off me on May 1 were now snug and it was only May 12. My ears were ringing with the premonition of some future blue cheese dressing related pulmonary event.

It was easy to see how ruinous life on the road could be, even when you didn’t drink or do drugs. I felt sorry for younger bands who felt they had to go out partying every night after shows. After a couple of weeks it must end up hellish.

The road to Hull was paved with UKIP signs. Only Necrosis by Cadaver played at ear disrespecting volumes kept us sane. It was dark as we drove into town and ghosts lined Ferensway waiting to greet me. The cinema where I’d had my first date in town, the pair of us just turned 18 - watching Shirley Valentine no less, saying, “Imagine being that old” about Pauline Collins and Bernard Hill - was now a bingo hall. The war memorial that I regularly drank sherry in front of on a bench. The Welly nightclub where I saw a punter swan dive off a balcony and go headfirst through the corner of a formica table. When they took him out on a stretcher there was a blanket pulled up over his face. And then down past my old house on De Grey Street and into the car park of the Adelphi. And then the ghosts waved us back out of town.

The drive to Great Yarmouth was gruelling and 13-hours long because of traffic - we got stuck behind no less than three serious road accidents. Bodies strewn across baking tarmac. Bloodied travellers weeping in incomprehension at the hard shoulder. Slow moving the traffic might have been but at least we had plenty of long albums to listen to. Just like a mattress in a shared student house or the narrative flow of the Bayeux Tapestry - Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly sagged in the middle but it was very, very long, making it ideal for the van.

Eight hours later, after the show, we flew down the A47 unimpeded like we were clinging to a rocket, listening to Slayer albums sequentially at full volume, gabbling like a bunch of four-year-olds as we went. By the last day, I felt like I was about to die and constantly on the verge of tears. I didn’t want it to end. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the worst of times. It was genuinely the worst of all times. And yet I’d crawl over broken glass to be able to do it all again right now.

You know, if you really want to get the measure of a country don’t drive round it. Take a train or walk. Maybe buy a bicycle or a skateboard or something.

We drove 5,000 miles of barbed wire and parked the splitter van by the roadside.

John Doran, Bangkok, Thailand, December 2017

[amethystiridescence]

A list of memorable people from when I spent two months in Los Angeles 🇬🇧➡️🇺🇸

A very angry woman on a subway platform who was about 4ft 8in tall and just kept screaming "FUCKIN... BITCHES" over and over again at no one in particular. She was wearing a rather classy short black dress and Minnie Mouse ears. She was later escorted off the subway, still screaming.

A homeless guy who had completely covered his shopping trolley in cling film and glued on top a perfectly symmetrical collage of tin foil cut carefully into tiny shapes to make a beautiful peacock picture. He also had handwritten calligraphy of Bible verses sellotaped underneath it.

A random dude with awful lizard face tattoos who would not stop talking to me about my work on the subway and swore hand on his heart he was Lady Gaga's personal hairstylist.

One guy who went from lane to lane blocking traffic yelling incomprehensibly for a solid 4 hours outside my apartment. When I left my apartment to go to the subway he was across the road, still gesticulating wildly and opening his mouth furiously - but totally silent.

A Korean guy who stood there totally silent, stone faced and motionless on the corner of a busy crossing with a huge sign that said "Repent for your sins, Jesus will protect you from the coming reckoning" (written again underneath in Korean presumably) and holding a wireless speaker which was playing a recording of a VERY loud voice damnning passerbys angrily (in English then Korean) that echoed all the way up the street.

A sweetly smiling tiny Spanish lady trying to sell what looked like granola bars going from carriage to carriage as I got off at my stop, and for some bizarre reason people were literally leaving the carriage hurriedly to get away from her and some were backing away from her in pure fear (??)

Two very athletic shirtless young black guys who suddenly turned on music super loud in my carriage and did an incredible synchronised acrobatic breakdance using the hand rails for support, complete with a very well written rap. They later asked for tips in their hat.

A dishevelled woman wearing ugg boots and knee high rainbow socks who tried very insistently to give me a brand new tennis racquet because apparently I "look like I play tennis".

A guy playing guitar on a busy freeway turnoff who stopped playing as we were at the lights to pull a live tiny baby squirrel out of his pocket and cuddled it to his face. He was being watched very shrewdly by a nearby cop.

A guy who looked like a really skinny Danny Trejo wearing a worn out stetson pulled low over his eyes, cowboy boots with clinking spurs and carrying a massive pillow sized stack of 3ft long incense sticks under his arm, looking extremely jaded. A very pleasant smell surrounded him.

A middle aged woman who came onto the subway carriage precariously carrying a rucksack, a huge empty milkshake cup, a handful of limp not-recently-picked wild flowers and a real tortoise shell (no clue if there was a tortoise actually hiding inside but I like to hope not). She sat down right next to me, laid the tortoise shell on the floor, and started carefully arranging the flowers on the floor on and around the shell, pausing to take an orange out of her bag and adding it to the display. She then spent most of the journey until I got off at my stop erupting into high pitched short bursts of laughter. I moved very swiftly to the other side of the carriage.

A really harassed looking young guy trying to hold what looked like nearly 50 loose baseball caps in his arms whilst running to catch a train.

A huge guy in a vest so stacked he could probably bench my bed sobbing silently at the back of the carriage.

A very bad smelling old woman who kept muttering the lyrics to MJs Smooth Criminal under her breath.

A very attractive young black guy with dreads who was wearing crisp clean white gloves and sat down at the communal public piano at Union Station and played absolutely beautifully for 20 minutes, then just grabbed his rucksack and went to Subway. I listened to the whole thing.

A girl about my age eating a literal 10kg sack-sized bag of potato hula hoops with her shoes off and legs propped up on the seat next to her, not looking like she was going to get off at any stop anytime soon.

A guy who lit a cigarette with a small cooking blow torch he had in his pocket whilst waiting next to me at a crossing (this one was my absolute favourite).

A woman posing in absolutely tiny denim hotpants, platform heels, a studded bra and leather jacket for a really sleazy looking photographer in the filthy alleyway behind my apartment building.

Also it's really easy to ride the LA subway for free even though you're not supposed to obviously. They perform random tap card checks but they only happened twice during my 2 months back and forth on the subway. The second time it happened was at a stop where two guards got on and announced "tap cards for inspection please!" and no exaggeration, nearly 3/4 of the people on the carriage suddenly hurriedly left.