#whenever my body will let me without turning it into nightmares and/or sleep paralysis

[izzy-b-hands]

One of the most fun things to do this round with Skyrim has been console commanding in a bunch of gold for Izzy (20k to start just bc), then console commanding the carry weight to be stupid high, then having him literally steal everything that isn't nailed down wherever we're clearing out bandits/skeletons/etc.

From there we hop from town to town (bc of course I've also used commands to activate every fast travel destination on the map already) just fucking up the local economy by selling ridiculous amounts of loot, purely bc this is also my hc for Ed and Izzy in the show (they're good at their jobs which is great! But each port only has so many merchants and so much coin and eventually I imagine it might be a thing of 'uh, actually put the rest of the loot back on the ship for the next port. They can't give us any more coin for all the loot we still have to sell')

And now I'm awake looking for boat/ship mods on steam for the game bc like. Izzy should have a goal to save up for now that I've got this rolling, and why not his own ship? Or at least a boat, since I already have a fishing mod installed.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Lullabies

A bad mission leaves you unable to sleep. Luckily, you’re not the only one awake in the compound.

-

           “Alright, I’m out!” You said loudly, standing up from the couch. The others in the room, Nat, Clint, and Wanda, were all arguing over an episode of Forensic Files. They all acknowledged you as you stood up. Tonight was their intervention, after all. It was the first time you’d been social since the big mission incident happened.

           “Promise me you’ll sleep tonight!” Nat called out. You walked into the kitchen, not expecting to see Steve filling up his gigantic water bottle. He was a friend, a good one, but you hadn’t spoken much since it happened. You just felt like you let him down, and it was the last thing you wanted to do.

           You’d been on your own until Tony, your dad’s best friend from childhood, took you in, gave you a serum when your heart threatened to be the cause of your death, and gave you a kickass suit to go with it. And then you were almost an Avenger, but not quite. You were grateful, really – it gave you some of the best friends you’d ever had. Nat was like a mom to you, and Tony was the closest thing you had to a father. You’d been there for six months until the dreaded mission last week.

           You’d been the only survivor out of your team of five. You’d been tortured, in every way possible. You were so shaken up that you barely slept for the past week. The bruises weren’t fading. Neither were the memories, and it left you completely unable to sleep, much less do anything but lay in bed and feel guilty for surviving. Nat had finally drawn you out of your room with Chinese food and everyone else had joined until you were all arguing over the ICBY murders.

           “Good night, Y/n,” Steve said with a little smile. His smiles were always warm. He was sweet – you considered him a friend, even though most of your conversations were light-hearted.

           “Good night, Steve,” you replied with a smile. You walked into your room and got in bed. And you tried to sleep. This time, for whatever reason, it came. Maybe it was because you could hear everyone else in the living room and it was comforting. It helped you to understand that you weren’t alone anymore.

           Sleep paralysis had been taking over every time you closed your eyes, and this time was no exception. Tonight it was the bad guy, staring down at you with a gun in one hand and gauntlet in the other. And you tried to scream for anyone who was awake still, it was so real and you couldn’t move your body, but nobody came. Maybe it was because it was late. Maybe it was because you weren’t really screaming, but you couldn’t take it. You woke up gasping, your throat sore, tears streaming down your face. It felt like you were being strangled again. You turned your body toward the air conditioner to get a clear breath.

           “Shit,” you murmured. It was 2:26 AM. You felt like you were suffocating, and without even taking your phone, you slipped out of your room and let it lock behind you. The hallway was dark, the only lights coming from the floor-to ceiling windowed view of the city, and it was calming. It was cool, too, Tony always kept the building freezing cold. One of the back lights in the kitchen was on, and you sighed. There was only one thing that could make you feel better. When you were a kid your mother always made chocolate chip cookies when you were upset. She’d hand them over to you, warm and gooey, and you would eat as many as you could until it knocked you out.

           So you got a pan out as quietly as you could and searched in the fridge until you found your secret stash of cookies. You resisted to eat the dough and set them on the pan, heating the oven and setting them in. You always took them out before they were done anyway, so it didn’t matter.

           “FRIDAY, play the Office in the living room and set a timer for cookies.” The corner of the room glowed in response.

           “Hey!” A familiar New York accent knocked you out of your daze as you heard the theme song start playing. It was Steve. You quickly ran in.

           “I’m sorry!” You exclaimed. “I had no idea anyone was in here, I thought everyone was asleep.” He was half asleep, still, but he smiled.

           “I did too,” he answered dryly.

           “No, I’m sorry. What were you watching?” You took a seat on the couch, all the way across from Steve.

           “Honestly? 60 Minutes.” You let out a laugh.

           “Of course you would, old man.”

           “I’m not that old.”

           “You’re a hundred years old.”

           “I’m not!” He tried to say. But he sighed. “What are we watching?”

           “The Office. Everyone in my generation thinks it’s comedic gold. I do, too. It makes me feel better when sleep paralysis wakes me up.” You were freezing. You wish you had taken a blanket with you, or grabbed the one that was sitting by Steve. Steve could see that you were cold, too. He could see the chill bumps on your skin in the dark. He could see the dried tears on your face and decided he should probably have a little more conversation with you before bringing that up.

           “So, uh, what’s it about?”

           “An office.” Steve chuckled at how dumb he was.

           “Yeah, I should’ve realized that.”

           “It’s about a paper company. You might hate it. It’s weird humor, honestly.”

           “Yeah, well, I might like it too.” He grinned. Whenever he did that, you couldn’t help but do the same. It was contagious. His optimism, even after everything, and his faith in the world made you want to be more like him. And he and Bucky were the only ones who could possibly know what you went through with the serum. Not to mention he was gorgeous. He had the perfect hair, perfect teeth. He was twice your size and for some reason you wanted him to crush you. He was a giant teddy bear. He was a sweetheart, but he always said what was on his mind. He wouldn’t lie to you. He had no reason to.

           “Y/n,” FRIDAY caught your attention, “your cookies are almost done.” You jumped a little bit. Steve must have noticed how jumpy you were, and it made him a little upset. Why didn’t you feel safe?

           “Cookies?” He asked. You got up – the oven had an auto shut-off for when they were done, and by the time you got over there you just grabbed a random dish towel to take them out of the oven with. You slid them onto a paper plate, took paper towels as napkins, and brought them back to the living room.

           “Did you wake up in the middle of the night to make cookies?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He sat up slightly, motioning for you to sit beside him. You were a little nervous, just because he was him, even though you’d done it in countless meetings or when everyone was piled into the room. But this was different. You were alone.

           “No,” you admitted. “My mom used to make them whenever I woke up in the middle of the night. I used to have really bad nightmares.”

           “Did, or still do?” It slipped out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “Sorry.” You took a cookie from the plate and started eating. They were the most comfort you had in a long time. Or maybe it was Steve, or a mix of both.

           “Still do. I just can’t go back to sleep after,” you answered. “You can have one.” He smiled and took one from the top of the plate.

           “I can’t either. Back before I went into the ice they never really had a word for how you felt when you’d come back from war or a car accident or anything you felt like you shouldn’t survive. Now they do, and it’s almost as bad as not having a word at all.”

           “I’m used to it now. It just makes me mad that it affected me this much.”

           “Yeah, it does me too. But you know, kid, my door’s always open. You can always come talk to me. I get it.”

           “We’re talking now, aren’t we?” You eyed the blanket. Even with the warm cookies you were eating, you still felt cold. “Can you hand me the blanket?”

           “Yeah, of course.” He passed you the fluffy blue blanket that you were pretty sure Clint had brought in and never taken back. You wrapped it over yourself, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t know what you went through back there, but…”

           “I haven’t even told Tony. The only people that know are me and Fury and Nat.” Steve nodded, looking down.

           “Why not?”

           “Because that makes it feel real.” Thinking about that night just made your skin crawl and it made you almost start crying. “Everyone wants to know and if I tell them then they’ll just feel sorry for me. I set myself up for that, for all of this. I told them I could handle it, but…”

           “You’re handling it,” he interrupted. “Trust me. TV and cookies is way better than the way I used to handle things.” You sighed.

           “I’m sorry I’m dumping on you. And I changed your TV. You probably came out here to be alone and I just…”

            “Shut up, Y/n. I like spending time with you. And I like that you brought me cookies when you didn’t have to share them. I’m glad I’m not the only one awake in the middle of the night.” You felt a little better. He wouldn’t lie to you. He wasn’t like that. What you wanted, more than anything, was just to curl up next to him. You needed human contact and suddenly you needed him. You realized that you didn’t feel safe because of the cookies or the TV. You felt safe because Steve was there.

           “Do you come out here every night?” You asked, trying to change the subject a little.

           “Pretty much. Sometimes I’ll go to the gym. But sitting here feels much better than punching things. Sitting with you, I should say.” He gave you a small smile, hoping that it would be returned.

           “You’re lying.”

           “No. I’m not. Can I tell you somethin’?” You nodded. “When they said there was only one survivor, I was hoping it was you. Not that I wanted everyone to die, I just… I couldn’t take seeing you, dead, because you don’t deserve that. And I didn’t want to not get the chance to tell you how I feel about you. Even if it is kinda stupid.”

           “What do you mean?” You couldn’t see very much in the darkness of the room, since the credits were playing, but you could see a faint look of something in his eyes that reminded you of home.

           “I mean I care about you. More than I should. It’s dangerous, I know that. It can get you killed, I know that. I don’t expect anything in return, especially not from you, but… I really like you. You’re smart and funny and you’re so good at what you do, even when it doesn’t look like it.”

           You sat up, throwing the blanket aside, and walked over to him. You were so close to him that you could smell his breath. Cookies. You wrapped your arms around him, nearly bursting into tears because of the sheer amount of time you’d gone without anyone saying they cared about you. You were happy because somebody cared about you this much.

           “I like you too,” you said. He hugged you tightly, so tightly that you thought you might burst even though you had the same amount of strength as he did. He rubbed your back up and down for a minute, sighing against you, and ran a hand through your hair.

          “I’m not worth cryin’ over, doll,” he pointed out.

           “I’m a crybaby.” He laughed softly. It was as warm and comforting and safe as the chocolate chip cookies you’d made. You finally let him go, even though it was only to cuddle up against him. You offered some of the blanket to him and he took it, leaning down. He eventually moved until you were right beside him, holding you so you wouldn’t fall off the couch.

           “So what do you say we get some coffee tomorrow morning?” He asked.

           “I’d like that.”

           “Good.” You must have fallen asleep with him, because you woke up the next morning in the same place, muscles sore, and the blanket had been kicked off of you. He woke up at the same time and just smiled down at you.

           “I should probably go take a shower. If you still want coffee, that is,” you said.

           “Yeah. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.” You pulled yourself away from him, standing up, and sighed. “I’ll put the cookies up, don’t worry about it.”

           “Thank you,” you responded. He smiled at you and started cleaning up the couch area. You walked into the hallway, about to head to your room, but lo and behold, Wanda was standing there with a grin on her face. “What?”

           “You spent the night with Steve. Didn’t you?” She asked.

           “Not like that. We just both fell asleep. And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get ready for our date.”

           “You’re dating?”

           “Shh, not yet, just… We talked most of the night.” She smiled.

           “He’ll be good for you.” You scoffed and typed the code into the pad to get into your room. Once you did a fingerprint scan, the door flew open. You certainly hoped he would be good for you, because last night was the first time you’d slept in what felt like forever. He was a better lullaby than the chocolate chip cookies, that was for sure. 

A/N: I hope you like this! I loved writing it. 

[tw-anchor]

37. Nothing Good

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x13; Anchors

Word Count: 6,537

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, hallucinations, nightmares

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for my absence. My grandma died, so I haven’t really had the motivation to write. However, I’m back with Season 3B and I’m so excited because I freaking love this season. I hope you all enjoy! Make sure to tell me what you think, reblog, and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

"Okay, so, you go like this," Stiles instructed Olivia, a nimble string of blue yarn twisted between his fingertips. He flipped one bit of the yarn over the other and made a loop, quickly tying it into a knot.

Olivia copied him, rolling her own yarn, a deep emerald green, into a knot.

"Now you slip the needle in like so," Stiles demonstrated with Olivia following his movements. "Good and then you do this," he slipped the yarn through the fingers of his other hand and looped it through his first loop. "No, not like that. Like this..."

Olivia sighed in frustration. "Why do I even have to learn how to crochet, Stiles?"

"Because I know how to crochet."

"Why do you know how to crochet?"

"Because it keeps my hands busy," Stiles informed her as he kept working at his yarn. "Plus, you know we have to get these mittens ready for Cornelius before winter comes otherwise his toes will get cold."

Olivia turned away from Stiles, where he was sitting on his couch, and looked out the window. Out in the backyard, sat the T-Rex that had imprinted on Stiles like a baby duck, knocking around a soccer ball with his tail. Cornelius was gentle for his species, but when Olivia told Stiles that he should get a pet, she had expected him to pick out a dog so Sirius could have a friend to play with.

Unfortunately, all Cornelius wanted to do with Sirius was eat him.

"Don't let them in."

Olivia turned back to Stiles. "What?"

"Don't let them in. Don't let them in!"

Before Olivia could even begin deciphering Stiles' words, the doorbell rung.

Giving Stiles a bewildered look, Olivia stood from the couch and wandered into the Stilinski's foyer in order to answer the door. She was pleased to see that it was Allison.

"Al, come on in," she said happily.

"Thanks, Liv," Allison grinned back at her. "Do you mind if Kate comes in, too?"

Dark storm clouds rolled in over the horizon as Allison walked into the house, revealing Kate Argent behind her. The older blonde smirked evilly at Olivia as lighting crackled just a few hundred feet in front of the house, followed quickly by a deep roll of thunder.

"Goody," Kate wrinkled her nose in delight. "Another Hale."

Heart racing, Olivia quickly slammed the door in Kate's face. She stumbled away from the door, pivoting so she could run and tell Stiles about Kate, when the door rang once again.

"Don't let them in, Olivia!"

For whatever reason, Olivia didn't listen to Stiles. She turned back to the door, as if forgetting about Kate's presence behind it, and opened it. This time, it wasn't Kate at the door, but, instead, Scott. Crimson red eyes gleamed at her while the true alpha waited to be let into the house, a dribble of thick blood falling from his lips.

"Hi, Liv," Scott greeted her innocently; when he went to wave at her, she saw that his sharp claws had replaced his blunt nails and his palms were covered in more blood.

Olivia stared at him wide-eyed, her eyes darting behind him. On the sidewalk leading up to the Stilinski's house, laid Kate Argent. She was dead; her throat had been ripped out, along with most of her intestines. Her blue eyes were wide open and glazed over, staring at Olivia as if she was still alive and begging the anchoram to help her.

"Scott, what did you do?"

Thwack!

Scott didn't get to answer her; an arrow sank into his chest from behind Olivia. Scott roared, his werewolf features blinking into appearance. She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she turned and spotted Allison, her crossbow gripped tightly in her grasp, pointing the tip of a new arrow straight at Scott.

"Get away from him, Olivia," Allison commanded, voice controlled and calm. "he's a monster."

"Olivia!"

Olivia's head whipped toward the living room, where she heard Stiles scream. She wanted to go to him, to run and get him out of there, but she couldn't. It was like her feet were glued into place.

Scott's growl caught her attention. He leapt at Allison, but didn't get far. Practiced and precise, Allison let go of her arrow; as soon as the sharp tip impaled itself into Scott's forehead, Olivia was passing out.

...

She woke at once when the bed jostled violently and Stiles sat up from his pillow, panting frantically. She rubbed her eyes and blinked for a few seconds, trying to clear the blurriness in her vision, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

"Stiles?" she murmured quietly, worriedly, as she reached for him. Even though she couldn't see his face, she could feel the dampness of his sweat on the bare skin of his pale back. "Are you okay?"

When he didn't answer right away, still trying to catch his breath, she sat up and curled her arm around his waist. His skin was clammy and his face was pale, the usual redness underneath his mole-speckled cheeks absent.

"Sweetcheeks?"

Stiles sighed shakily. "Yeah," he grabbed her free hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles gently. "I was just dreaming."

Olivia frowned. "What kind of dream?"

Stiles hesitated as he grimaced, the paleness of his skin stark against the pinkness of his lips. "It was weird," he said finally. "It was like a dream within a dream."

"A bad dream," she assumed.

He let out another shaky breath. "Yeah."

Olivia frowned and leaned forward slightly, kissing his shoulder blade. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Stiles said quietly as he turned toward her. His eyes narrowed at her suddenly, confused. "Wait a second...Livvy, what are you doing here?"

Olivia furrowed her eyes, ready to remind him that this was the bed they shared. It was then that their door creaked open. Stiles was immediately distracted by it, his body stiffening as he nervously glowered at the door.

He let go of her hand and then slipped out of her hold, stumbling off the bed.

"Stiles, where are you going?" now he was confusing Olivia.

"I'm just gonna close the door."

"You should leave it. Come back to bed, Stiles."

"No, no," Stiles brushed off her concern. "I should close it."

"Stiles, don't worry about it."

Stiles kept walking toward the door. "What if someone comes in?"

Olivia shook her head. "Like who? Sweetcheeks, you need sleep."

"No," Stiles denied her vehemently. "What if they get in?"

"What if who gets in? Stiles, just leave it. Please, you're scaring me!" he kept walking. "Stiles, no! Stiles, please don't go in there! Stiles, don't, please!"

He wasn't listening to her and it was maddening. He couldn't go through that door. He couldn't!

"Stiles, don't!" she begged loudly. "Stiles, wake up. Wake up!"

"STILES!"

Olivia's mouth clamped shut, teeth snapping together roughly, when Sirius yipped nervously, rousing her from her nightmare. She inhaled deeply when the hinges of her door quietly squealed open and Lydia rushed into the room

"Something's wrong," she breathed as Lydia crawled into bed with her. She didn't dare look at her cousin's concerned green eyes, she kept her own peeled to the ceiling. "Something's wrong with Stiles, Scott, and Allison."

Olivia wasn't a psychic, she couldn't see the future. However, some part of her, some anchor part of her, knew that something was going on with three of her packmates. Her nightmare had freaked her out to her core, but it was just telling her something that she already knew. Something that she had known for two weeks. Dying, and subsequently coming back to life, had affected Stiles, Scott, and Allison more than they let on.

Their three tethers—Scott's had changed to a deep red, Stiles' stayed his beautiful caramel-whiskey the same color of his eyes, while Allison's glowed a comforting pink—seemed like they were always pulsing. She didn't specifically know what was going on with Scott, but she did know more about the effects on Stiles and Allison. And with the dream she had, more was coming to light.

Seeing Stiles struggle broke Olivia's heart to the core. He was constantly having nightmare after nightmare, and what's more, was his sleep paralysis. She had never gone through sleep paralysis herself, but she had done some research after that first night that Stiles experienced it. It was supposed to be horrible and terrifying, knowing that you're awake but you can't physically move your body. It left Stiles tired and traumatized, though he tried his best not to show it.

Allison, like Stiles, was having terrible visions—just without the sleep paralysis. She would blink and suddenly she'd be in a different place. And what haunted her the most was her aunt, Kate Argent. Allison had told Olivia and Lydia that Kate would appear out of nowhere, stalking, or taunting Allison until she grabbed her nearest weapon to fight back. It was terrifying for her, and the person who would come face-to-face with whatever weapon Allison kept stashed close to her.

And Scott was afraid of himself, his alpha self. While not nearly as terrifying as Stiles and Allison's issues, it was still a big deal to Scott. Scott had learned control fairly quickly for a bitten werewolf and his transition to alpha had screwed with his head. He constantly thought that he would turn into a monster like Peter and that he had no control over his transition. It scarred him; he wouldn't even try to make his wolf features appear in fear of not being able to turn back.

And though Stiles, Allison, and Scott bore the brunt of the sacrifices, Olivia was affected too. Every time Stiles had a nightmare, she'd have one too, and would wake up hearing his screams. Whenever Allison was pulled into one of her hallucinations, her tether would vibrate and Olivia was forced to stop what she was doing to check on her best friend. And while Scott's visions weren't as violent, they made his tether light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July; and, infuriatingly, when Olivia offered her help, he refused it.

More and more her concern for her boyfriend, best friend, and alpha began to grow. If the darkness that they earned from the sacrifice was this bad now, how much worse would it be in a few months, years?

She had to do something about it. She couldn't just sit by while her friends went certifiable.

-

"Like this," Olivia held out her left arm, where the plaid sleeve of her blouse was carefully rolled up, and then her right arm, where the fabric stopped prettily on her wrist. "or like this?"

Lydia pursed her lips together, her index finger on her chin, as she seriously contemplated her cousin's fashion choice. "Hmm...you should roll the sleeves," she said finally, eyeing Olivia's bottom half, which was covered by a khaki-colored skirt, dark tights, and heeled ankle boots. "it'll contrast all the business-casual down here."

Olivia glanced at her skirt and then shrugged, knowing what Lydia meant. Carefully, she rolled up her right sleeve until it matched her left and then turned to Lydia expectantly.

Lydia nodded in approval. "Good."

Olivia turned to her locker, a smile quirking her lips. She reached for her textbook for history—where'd they would be introduced to Mr. Westover's replacement—but stopped before her fingers could grip the hard cover.

Allison's tether was glowing brighter than usual, the neon pink blinking on and off. She turned her head, following her instincts (which were, by now, mostly those pesky whispers in her head), toward the set of double doors down the hallway. She was on the move before they swung open and when they did, she was able to catch Allison.

The taller brunette's breathing was frantic as she looked around with wide, confused eyes. It was obvious that she did not remember driving to school, let alone arriving. Olivia squeezed Allison's hands soothingly and pushed some calming effects toward her tether.

"Hey, Al, it's okay," she said softly; she didn't notice as Lydia came over to them, giving Allison a worried look. "You're all right. I've got you."

"I-I was at the morgue," Allison restlessly gestured to the doors. "And Kate, she...she..."

"You're at school and you're safe," Olivia informed her calmly. "Kate's not here. You're okay."

It took a second for Allison to respond, her brown eyes nervously shifting around the hallway. But, finally, she nodded. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Olivia was firm; none of this was Allison's fault so there was no point in apologizing. "We just need to—oh, shit..."

Olivia's gaze tinted violet as Scott's tether caught her attention. It was blazing frighteningly and she saw him moving quickly, right into Stiles' tether.

"It's happening to Stiles and Scott, too," Olivia told Allison as she came back to herself. She glanced at Lydia and added, "We need to find them. They're out front."

The three of them turned and left the school, using the same doors that Allison had stumbled through. With Olivia's abilities, it didn't take long for them to find Stiles and Scott. It seemed that it was Stiles who brought Scott out of his hallucination, as his hands were still gripping his shoulders, holding him into reality.

"I'm okay," they overheard Scott assure Stiles.

"No, you're not," Stiles said knowingly. "It's happening to you, too. You're seeing things, aren't you?"

Scott blinked at Stiles, who had let him go. "How'd you know?"

Olivia, Lydia, and Allison were close enough to the boys now that Olivia felt safe speaking up.

"Because it's happening to all three of you," Stiles and Scott turned at the sound of her voice. "frequently, might I add."

Scott deflated slightly. "You can feel it?"

"Every time," Olivia confirmed while slipping her arm around Stiles' waist; it was against their PDA rules, but she didn't care as long as it calmed him down. It did; he pressed a grateful kiss to the top of her head. "There's the nightmares and the visions, of course, the periods of lack of self-control."

Lydia smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, well, look who's no longer the crazy one."

"We are not crazy," Allison disagreed firmly while Olivia shook her head at her cousin.

"Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis?" Lydia listed as evidence to the contrary. "Yeah, you guys are fine."

She readily ignored the glare that Stiles was sending her, in order to give Scott and Allison an I-told-you-so look.

Scott sighed, agreeing with her slightly. "We did die and come back to life," he admitted. "That's gotta have some side effects, right?"

The bell rang; they had five minutes to get class or they'd be counted tardy.

"We keep an eye on each other," Stiles spoke up, his tone final. "And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much."

Ignoring Lydia's offended look, Stiles and Olivia walked away. Olivia's grip on his slipped from his waist to his hand as they walked and it was taking all of her self-control not to keep staring at Stiles. She couldn't help it; she was worried about him.

"You know, Livvy, I like when you stare at me, I really do, but only when it's, like, the sexy kind of stare, you know?" Stiles joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "Or when it looks like you're daydreaming about me. Honestly, when those are combined, that's when I'm happiest—"

"You're such a perv," Olivia laughed but then sobered up. "But, okay, I get it. I'm sorry for staring."

They entered the school once more and walked through the hallway, heading to their history class.

"I just don't want you to worry about me," Stiles sighed. "It's just a couple of nightmares."

"It's not just nightmares, and you know it," Olivia disagreed as they entered Mr. Westover's old classroom. "and I'm gonna worry about you, even when you have your happiest days. You know why?"

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her while sitting in his seat. "Because you've turned into a worry-wart?"

Olivia sat in the seat behind him. "No," she rolled her eyes, sending Scott a smile as he sat in the seat next to Stiles, before looking back at her boyfriend. "it's because I love you, sweetcheeks."

Stiles made a show of rolling his eyes and muttering unhappily, but the way he gripped her jaw and pulled her close for a kiss told her that he appreciated her and the way she cared about him. The tip of his tongue brushed against her lower lip, nibbling on it gently, and when she opened her mouth to receive him, he pulled away with a beautiful smile.

"Love you, baby," he gave her a quick but searing kiss on her flushed cheek. "and another point for Stiles."

A huff came from Olivia's lips as she took in his words. They had been playing a game recently, because Stiles loved games—especially games that annoyed the pants off of Olivia. It all came down to his hate of their PDA rules and he was being so pathetic about it (pathetically cute, much to her chagrin) that she agreed to make a game out of it. If Stiles got her to break one of her rules, he got a point. The more points he got, the better the prize—a prize in which they had yet to set.

Damn him!

"I hate you," Olivia scowled at him, though she had to fight to keep the expression on her face.

"No, you don't!" Stiles sang with a chuckle.

Rather than stroke his ego, Olivia gave her attention to the front of the class. Their new teacher, Mr. Yukimura, had entered the room and had just finished writing FDR's famous Pearl Harbor quote on the board. She had high hopes for Mr. Yukimura, as she had met his daughter, Kira, in her free period and she seemed quite nice.

The bell rang once more as Mr. Yukimura set his piece of chalk down and clapped the dust off of his hands.

"Good morning, everyone," he greeted the class pleasantly. "My name is Mr. Yukimura and I'll be taking over for your previous history teacher. My family and I moved here three weeks ago. I'm sure, by now, you all know my daughter, Kira...or you might not, since she's never actually mentioned anyone from school...Or brought home a friend for that matter."

A loud sigh came from a couple seats behind Olivia. The whole class turned to look as Kira, dressed in a black crop-top with her hair in beautiful waves, slammed her head against her desk. Olivia smiled slightly as the new girl looked up and gave everyone a sheepish smile.

She usually didn't like people—her friends, obviously, excluded—but when she met Kira, she instantly felt a connection with her. Kira was bubbly but shy and awkward and it made Olivia want to take her under her wing and into her group of friends. They had an awkward friend—Stiles—but now they needed a shy one and Kira fit that bill.

Olivia waved at her and smiled in satisfaction when Kira returned her action shyly.

"Now, let's begin with American History at the turn of the twentieth century..."

-

-

"Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal."

Stiles quietly scoffed at Scott's words. Leave it to Scott McCall to be optimistic even when they were going crazy. He grabbed his combo lock and started fiddling with the knob, reciting his memorized combination as he twisted and turned it to the right marks.

"Yeah, try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures," he frowned and narrowed his eyes when his lock did not open. He tried his combination again, though the numbers on the lock were far from normal. "There's a pretty good chance things are never going back to normal."

He tugged on his lock, frustrated. Long gone were the usual numbers; in their places were symbols. Symbols that he had never seen before. His skin prickled with irritation and fear as he stared them down, trying to make sense of them.

"Yeah," Scott sighed in agreement, missing out on Stiles' frustration.

With a grunt, Stiles let go of the lock and turned to Scott, ready to rant about his sudden inability to read. However, he stopped point blank when he saw that Scott's eyes were his alpha-red, not his normal chestnut-brown.

"Oh, dude, your eyes."

Scott gave him an alarmed look. "What about them?"

"They're glowing," Stiles said hurriedly and Scott ducked his head. "Like, right now. Stop, Scott. Stop it."

Scott's breathing picked up as a wheeze as he raised his hand over his red eyes. "I can't," he panted, panicked. "I can't control it."

Stiles grimaced, wondering where Olivia was, and grabbed Scott. "All right, just keep your head down," he advised, looking around at the classrooms on either side of the hall, trying to remember which one was empty during third period. "Okay, come on. Keep your head down."

He led Scott into freshman history classroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Scott ripped away from him, grunting loudly as he tried to gain control, and tore out of his jacket.

"Get away from me," he growled at Stiles when he tried to help him. "Stay back."

"Scott, it's okay."

"I don't know what's going to happen," Scott insisted thickly, through his fangs.

Though Stiles wanted to ignore his friend's warning and just grab him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, he didn't. He stayed back, not only for his safety, but to respect Scott's wishes. After all, what if Scott couldn't control himself and ripped Stiles into pieces? That'd be a disaster, for both of them.

The door swung open and Olivia rushed into the room only a second after Scott started digging his claws into the flesh of his palms. Stiles stayed back and let her do her thing, watching as she kneeled in front of his best friend and grabbed his forearms.

"Scott, Scott, listen to me," her eyes were glowing purple under her ministrations. "You're going to get control of yourself now, all right?"

"Pain—"

"Pain makes you human, I know," Olivia agreed with Scott, nodding empathetically. "All right, so focus on that pain. Let it ground you. That pain is an anchor."

Stiles knew that this was serious, he really did. But between his fear and anger at the situation he, Scott, and Allison were in, his heart couldn't help but melt. Olivia had really come into her own as an Anchor. She was empathetic and gentle and though he loved her as she was previously—self-deemed the Ice Queen—he only grew more and more in love with her with each passing day.

God, I'm so fucking lucky to have her.

Olivia and Scott were sitting on the floor now, blood covering the alpha's arms and the Anchor's hands. Scott was back to his human self, back in control, but Olivia continued to give her support, holding onto Scott until she felt he no longer needed her. Stiles plopped down next to them and handed them some tissues he snagged from the teacher's desk.

"This isn't just in our heads," he admitted as Olivia let go of Scott and started wiping her hands of his blood. "This is real and it's starting to get bad for me, too. I'm not just having nightmares. I'm having dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake...And sometimes, I'm not even sure if I'm ever actually waking up."

Olivia swallowed thickly, giving her boyfriend a concerned look. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know how you can tell if you're dreaming?" Stiles looked between Olivia and Scott, watching as the latter shook his head. "You can't read in dreams. More and more, the past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't see the words. I can't put the letters in order."

Stiles focused on Scott so he didn't have to see the heartbroken look on Olivia's face.

"Like even now?"

Stiles looked around the room, focusing on the posters taped to the brick walls. They were history posters, obviously, but he couldn't make out the words. All the letters on each and every one were mixed around, like he was suddenly dyslexic. The only thing he could make out was a picture of Lincoln's memorial—but there weren't words on that one. He couldn't read.

"I can't read a thing."

-

-

Things had not approved overnight. Allison in particular was having difficulties, so Olivia stuck to her side like glue. After she left art class, where Allison was having trouble holding her brush still, to help with Scott's control, things had not gotten better for the hunter. According to Lydia, Allison spaced out after getting red paint on her canvas and was close to a panic attack.

Lydia, being the strategist she was, suggested that Allison practice with her bow after school. The three of them went out to the woods behind Olivia and Lydia's house and set up a target for Allison to shoot. However, Allison's shaky grip on the paintbrush was much like her grip on her bow. She couldn't stay still, no matter which way she held the string and launched the arrow.

In the end, their little experiment had been a disaster. Allison ended up having a hallucination of Kate—one that Olivia could not bring her out of, no matter how hard she tried—and tried to shoot Lydia. She would have killed the redhead if it wasn't for Isaac's newfound crush on the hunter. If he hadn't been following them and hadn't caught the arrow heading right for Lydia's head, she would be dead.

It had been a restless night of sleep for Olivia, courtesy of the nightmares keeping Stiles awake, and things only got worse when she went back to school the next day. After sleeping through the first two periods in the nurse's office—Olivia was her favorite student and she was often able to escape there during class if she already knew the lesson for that day—it had been Coach's class.

Having gotten a nap in, Olivia felt fine. She was taking notes along with Coach's lecture and had answered a question or two when she was called on, when she felt it. Stiles tether almost ached as it lit up the map of her pack. In the desk in front of her, Stiles was still awake and writing furiously in his notebook but he wasn't reacting to anything she sent to his tether to calm him down. It was like he was asleep, but he wasn't—his eyes were wide open and he kept writing the same phrase over and over again in his notes.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Coach, who had been trying to get his attention, had enough of his ignorance. He blew sharply into the whistle, causing Stiles to jump high in his seat, completely shocked.

"Stilinski!" Stiles glared at Coach, wide-eyed. "I asked you a question."

"Uh, sorry, Coach," Stiles apologized, centering himself. "What was it?

"It was, 'Stilinski, are you paying attention back there?'"

Stiles grimaced. "Oh...Well, I am now."

Coach pressed his lips together unhappily. "Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink every night," he turned away from Stiles. "Does anybody else want to try the question on the board?"

Stiles sighed in relief now that Coach had turned his attention to someone else, and turned to Scott and Olivia. She knew that her face must have shown how worried she was, because Stiles was quick to assure them that he was okay.

"I'm okay, I just fell asleep for a second."

Olivia glanced at Scott and then at Stiles' notebook, looking over his handwriting. He was writing to himself, telling himself to wake up, and he hadn't. Not until Coach used his whistle to get his attention. So, physically, he wasn't asleep, but he thought he was?

What the hell is going on with him? Olivia worried to herself.

"Dude," Scott nodded at Stiles' notebook. "You weren't asleep."

Stiles glanced at his notebook, his eyes growing wide with confusion. At once, he grabbed it and slammed it upside down so he didn't have his own handwriting haunting him.

Soon, class ended with the ring of the lunch bell. Olivia, Stiles, Scott, and Lydia—who also had economics class with them, but sat on the other side of the classroom with Danny—went to the courtyard to eat. Allison and Isaac met up with them and though they all had brought food, eating was the last thing on their minds.

They compared stories about what was going on with Stiles, Scott, and Allison. The more they heard, the more they knew that they had to do something. They just didn't know what.

"Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?" Scott asked, bringing them back to the start of the conversation.

"And is unable to tell what's real or not," Stiles added grumpily.

Allison nodded, "And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?"

"They're all locked up because they're insane," Isaac answered, idly throwing a potato chip into his mouth.

"Ha," Stiles laughed sarcastically and sneered at him. "Can you at least try to be helpful, please?"

"For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer," Isaac reminded him. "So, being helpful is kind of a new thing for me."

"Hey, dude, are you still milking that?"

"Yeah, maybe I am still milking that."

"Guys, I mean this in the nicest way, but shut up," Olivia interrupted them, grabbing Stiles' hand that rested on her thigh and squeezing to the point he winced. "Turning on each other is not gonna help us."

"Hi!" a new voice chirped and Olivia looked up to see Kira standing at the end of their table. "Hi, sorry. I couldn't help but overhearing what you guys were talking about and I think I actually might now what you're talking about."

They all stared at her expectantly.

"There's a Tibetan word for it," she explained as she took the empty seat next to Scott and across from Lydia. "It's called Bardo. It literally means in-between state."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at the newcomer. "And what do they call you?"

Scott gave Lydia a reproachful look as Olivia spoke up, "Her name's Kira. I told you about her, remember, Lyds?"

"Right," Lydia nodded, giving Kira a once-over. Olivia didn't know if her cousin felt threatened by the fact that Kira knew something she didn't, or because Kira was sitting close to Scott. "the new girl."

"Yeah. So, Kira," Olivia caught their new friend's attention. "are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?"

Kira shrugged. "Either I guess. But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo," she nodded confidently. "There are different progressive states where you can hallucinate. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful or wrathful deities."

"Wrathful deities?" Isaac repeated skeptically. "And what are those?"

"Like demons," Kira grinned. Olivia knew that if Kira knew they weren't just talking hypotheticals, there wouldn't be a smile on her face.

"Demons," Stiles scoffed, frowning at Olivia, who smiled sympathetically. "Why not?"

"Hold on," Allison spoke up. "if there are different progressive states, then what's the last one?"

"Death," Kira answered casually. "You die."

Olivia, Stiles, and the rest of the pack shared at look, one thought on each of their minds.

Shit.

-

-

The crackle of electricity was unmistakable, especially when they were being held in such a small room. Olivia found herself chained to a fence, her toes unable to reach the rough wooden floors, between two familiar men. Derek was on her left with a stubborn expression on his face and Peter was on her right, scowling in pain. Both of them were shirtless, but Olivia was still fully clothed in the pajamas she changed into at Allison's apartment while they studied.

Derek glared past her, his pale-green eyes spewing hate at Peter.

Peter noticed. "Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?"

"Because it is your fault."

Derek's statement was followed by a sharp shock rocking through their bodies. Olivia gasped in pain and clenched at the metal fence, her fingers practically molding the material around them.

"It's all your fault," she added when the electricity cleared.

"Yeah," Peter sighed. "you're probably right."

There was another crackle and Olivia's body shook from current that ran through her. She knew that she should have been dead by now, that she should have died from electric shock and from the sheer pain that came with it, but she wasn't. For whatever reason, she was still alive and held captive with her father and cousin.

"You see this equipment?" the man who had been controlling the electric current spoke up from where he sat by an old, rusty transmitter. "Very old. The settings are not quite accurate anymore. So, it's hard to tell just how far to turn the dial."

Olivia's teeth rattled together in her mouth as Peter grunted, "I think it's a little high."

The man didn't like the way Peter spoke to him. He grabbed the knob that controlled the strength of the current and turned it higher. A scream forced its way out of Olivia at the fresh wave of electricity and Peter growled, but Derek merely grunted.

"I've seen some crack their teeth, others? They just shake and shake even after their heart stops," the man laughed as he looked back on Olivia, Peter, and Derek. "Sometimes we don't even know they're dead," he cut the electricity and laughed again. "but nobody wants to play a guessing game. So, why don't you just tell us. Where is la loba?"

The man walked away from his station and took root in front of Olivia, Peter, and Derek.

"We don't know where la loba is," Derek answered strictly, trying to catch his breath.

"Yes, you do," the man disagreed. Derek stayed quiet. "Well, we have our methods of persuasion. So, one of you gets cut in half, the other talks."

Olivia grimaced just at the thought of a hemicorporectomy. Those reminded her of Gerard Argent and she couldn't stand that old asshole.

"I would love to be the volunteer, but we really don't know what you're talking about," Peter spoke up. And then, just because he was Peter, he barbed, "And honestly, isn't bisecting people with a broad sword a little medieval?"

The man chuckled. "Broad sword? We're not savages," he nodded at one of his men and the man picked up a chainsaw, revving the engine. "We all wonder how far your little healing trick goes."

Olivia saw the man with the chainsaw position the rapidly-moving blade at Derek's arm before she clenched her eyes tightly shut.

"What do you think?" the main man asked. "Can you grow back an arm? We're pretty sure you can't grow back your head."

"Boys," a sharp, feminine voice cut through the buzz of the chainsaw.

The electric tool's power was cut immediately and when Olivia opened her eyes, she saw a tiny woman enter the room. She, like the men they were with, was Latino in heritage and spoke with a heavy accent when using the English language.

The woman spoke to her men in her native language as she walked further into the room. Both men rescinded away from Olivia, Derek, and Peter and stopped to watch the woman do her work.

She stopped in front of the three Hales, giving them a once-over.

"No hablo Espanol," Derek said curtly, lying through his teeth. While Olivia only had two years on Spanish on her belt and wasn't quick to the take when people spoke it around her, Derek was. It was one of his best subjects in school.

The woman clicked her tongue. "You speak many languages, Derek Hale," the woman spoke in her native language, though this happened to be a statement Olivia could translate. "You know exactly what I'm saying and you know who we want."

The woman pulled something out of the pocket of her cute old-lady sweater. Olivia could see that it was a blade of some sort, maybe curved to cut something specific. The woman took slow steps toward them, holding the blade out threateningly.

"Where is the she-wolf?"

Was she talking about Cora? That was the only female werewolf that they knew now. But what did these people, these hunters, want with Cora? She hadn't done anything wrong.

Even if they were asking about Cora, Derek wasn't going to give his sister away.

"We don't know any she-wolf."

The woman pressed her lips together and nodded. "I know you won't talk, lobito," she turned, completely bypassing Olivia, and stood in front of Peter. "This one will talk. This one loves the sound of his own voice."

"You should hear me sing," Peter said sarcastically.

The man, the main one who was in change of the electrical current, smirked viciously. "We want to hear you scream."

Peter shook his head and glanced at Derek. "No one ever wants to hear me sing."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Peter."

Peter faced the woman again as she spoke, "What could we do to persuade you, hmm?" she lifted the blade against Peter's temple and drew it down his face; Peter winced as his fingernails sharpened into claws and blood dripped down his chin. "Where is the she-wolf?

This time, Peter kept his mouth shut.

The woman didn't like that. Quickly, she whipped the blade away from his face and brought it down on his hand. Peter's ring finger on his left hand was chopped off swiftly, blood bursting out all over his chest as he screamed.

"Oh, my God," Olivia breathed, her stomach turning.

"Think about it," the woman called, from where she had turned around. She studied the severed finger in her hand. "I'm only going to ask you nine more times."

And with that, she dropped the finger, and walked out of the room.

Olivia inhaled deeply as she sat up, her palm sloped against her racing heart. The dream—no, the nightmare—she had been having felt so real. Much more so than the dream she had of Stiles, Scott, and Allison the other night. No, what had happened in her dream had really happened, though it was obvious that she wasn't there. Derek and Peter were in trouble, trapped by hunters in Mexico, and she had to do something about it.

A sharp gasp came from next to her. Olivia watched as Allison jumped awake from her restless sleep. Placing a calming hand on her friend's shoulder, she tried not to panic as Allison pulled a ring dagger out from under her pillow.

Yeah, none of this was okay.

(Gif is not mine)

[jjba-hell]

Fate and Fortune

I don’t know if this can be classified as Part 2.5 or Part 3... y’know let’s go with Part 3

Content warnings: pretty mild if not for the ominous feel, abandonment themes and some possible PTSD, nightmares and sleep paralysis (implied but not mentioned) and maybe some blood but not gore or violence.

So the big explanation I’m putting down for this one is that Vera holds the Wheel of Fortune as her stand- as I’ve said, my canon now, the one in canon do not exist ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ. I’ll probably elaborate on how it works later, for now- you’re getting breadcrumbs -w-

For the lovely @risottoneroo (please lemme know if I should cool it with the tagging lol (*´ω｀*)

Part 1

Part 2

1.4 K words

It had been a few months since the incident in the place Vera once called home. Sitting at a café, overlooking the river Nile, Avdol and Vera had just polished off a pot of tea together. It was somewhat a celebratory brunch, Muhammed Avdol had won custody over Vera Astbury- the big benefactor that was sponsoring her schooling abroad being what won the courts over in his favor.

“So, who is this oh so generous benefactor?” She asked as she brought the cup to her lips once more- hoping she was veiling her distaste at being shipped to a boarding school in the following months well enough behind polite banter. If this idea was Avdol’s or the benefactor’s idea, she was still unsure- but her reluctance remained.

“You’ll meet Mr Joestar as soon as he returns for business in England. You really don’t have to break your head about who he is until then. I’ll keep you updated.”

Avdol had a tendency to avoid speaking on the court processions for her custody. She’d been upset by both her families’ reluctance to take her in at her time of need, the bags she’d packed to be shipped to one them, standing in Avdol’s living room for one too many weeks. Until he cleared a room for her and asked her to unpack.

The smile tugged at the corner of her lips without her knowing. Avdol caught the gesture and calmly placed his cup of tea back in its saucer. “And now I wonder- what could have made my answer so amusing?”

Vera shrugged as she swirled the stray tea leaves around the bottom of her cup. “For a moment you sounded like my dad-“ her smile slid off her face as the tea leaves settled.

Divination by tea leaves was something she’d laughed at when Avdol first taught her about it but now- with all her readings, even the ones she did unintentionally as practice to get a feel for how much tea she needed to move the tea leaves around- all ended in the same black dog figure stalking the bottom edges of her cup.

To her, it felt as though she was plunged ankle deep into the tea in the bottom of the cup, as though the image mirroring her own grief and fear in the tea leaves would consume her as well.

A graceful brown hand stretched over the mouth of the cup, obstructing her view of the leaves.

“You know better than to read into your predictions now. You need to grieve first.”

Vera’s gaze met Avdol’s across the table, the concerned frown on his face enough to remind her that she wasn’t completely alone.

“Would you have me organise a psychologist at the boarding school for you?” He sighed as he withdrew his hand from her cup.

She chuckled and cringed at the same time. “I appreciate you looking out for me but I am not looking forward to leaving.”

“I know, Vera. But whatever or whoever was after you hopefully won’t leave Egypt for you. And… now don’t look at me like that. No matter how desperately you want revenge, you’re much too young to go out and look for that kind of trouble.”

Vera reverted her scowl to a smirk, she wasn’t going to fight him, the last thing she wanted was to seem ungrateful for what he was doing for her. “Watch out Avdol- if you let me get too far under your skin, I’ll give you grey hairs.”

His eyebrow shot up as he folded his hands into his robe sleeves- “You underestimate my tolerance, Vera. I know you jest most of the time, even if its just a way for you to cope.”

Vera’s words caught in her throat- the clever retort gone before she could give it some voice. With a clear of her throat she folded her hands on the table. “Perceptive. I’ll keep quite then, I know when I’m outwitted.”

“I thought so.” Avdol chuckled, signalling the waiter for the bill.

Living with Avdol had turned into an agreeable co-habitation, a bit of an adjustment for both of them but she felt safe under Avdol’s protection.

In terms of basic necessity she was well taken care of- physchologically she was still struggling.

To Vera, the development of her stand did the exact opposite to what she felt like it was supposed to do- or at least what Avdol had told her it would do. Instead of manifesting her own strength, she felt more vulnerable.

Avdol had shown his own stand to her once he realized she had some control over her own. Magician’s Red radiated an intense heat that felt like it would suffocate her if he left them out in the room too long. They were considerably larger and more opaque than her stand- intense glare matching their user’s.

“I call them Magician’s Red,” Avdol had explained. “You will find the name for your stand soon, I’m sure.” At the time she shrugged off her own ability as useless. She was just a bit more lucky whenever she hovered her stand’s extended hand over a dice. She couldn’t image her stand setting having any more power than that- the envy of seeing Magician’s Red starting the bonfire outside one evening making itself evident.

To Vera, her stand only hovered a few inches above the her bed’s edge, cross-legged like a cat watching her struggle to make her limbs move or violently jerk herself out of a nightmare. It only let her feel guilty as she playfully stole a win from Avdol in a game of cards. Only a few weeks later she realized her stand could do more than steal luck.

“Ahhh shit.”

Avdol’s head popped in around the corner at her cradling her bleeding palm over the kitchen sink.

“What happened.”

“I dropped the knife and caught it at the blade.”

Avdol cringed as he ducked back into the hallway. “I’m getting the first aid kit.”

She pulled the unplugged the water in the other sink and turned the water on to run over her wound.

Without warning her stand emerged and took hold of her hand out of the water.

The dial that replaced their wrists twisted as they hovered their palm over hers.

Obstructed for a moment, Vera couldn’t figure out what was going on until the blood drops in the sink disappeared. For a moment she thought the water had rinsed it away but as her stand’s hand moved away from hers the wound in her hand was gone. Not even a scab left in its place.

“Now THAT is a useful trick.” Avdol laughed as her stand de-materialized, Vera turning her hand in front of her in disbelief.

Time and Fortune moved in tandem to one another- at least that was what her stand had her believe. Like time marched beside the changing seasons of the world, time was tied to the Wheel of Fortune.

On her last day in Egypt, Vera sat across Muhammed on the rooftop of his home.

“I see you’ve gotten a good grip on summoning your stand.” He hummed at her stand hovering just over her right shoulder. “Their presence is strong, much less translucent than it used to be.”

Between them sat a tarot deck she had bought on a whim- it’s maker had gingerly opened the box and let her run her hands through the cards, it’s irredescent gold beauty captivating her.

“How much?” She said as she pulled her wallet from her bag.

It was her very own deck and now- with the cards already shuffled and placed face down between them for a reading, she was ready to start her first reading with them.

“Let’s hope there’s not a Death Card for this reading.” Avdol sighed.

She smiled, spreading the cards out onto the dealing mat. With her intent set, she picked two cards- a card that would represent what she had to leave behind and a card that would name her stand.

The first card was flipped and the smug smile on Avdol’s face was all she needed to see.

Six of Swords reversed- “the Resistence to transition.”

Her gaze shot up at the cocky bastard, Vera groaning in frustration. “Yeah yeah yeah, I need to stop fighting my relocation.”

In defiance she flipped the second card and to no surprise the Wheel of Fortune card looked back at her.

“I wish I could say I was surprised.” She sighed.

Avdol chuckler quietly, “So how do you refer to them in your mind?”

Vera shrugged as she put her cards back together. “I just keep calling them Fortune in my head.” Her gaze looked her own stand over- it wasn’t particularly impressive, looking like painted terracotta stacked in disks to make up a body not too different in shape from her own.

“Suits them.”

With a heavy sigh Avdol rose up and guided her down the stairs where her bags and the Speedwagon foundation security stood waiting for her.

She assumed her benefactor must have been a higher up within said foundation if he was going this far to make sure she got the boarding school safely.

Vera rolled her window down and peered up at Avdol, a bitter smile on her face as she sat in the car and he remained standing outside.

“Don’t call me and tell me you’re lonely, this was your idea.” She taunted.

He rolled his eyes and then folded his hands over his forearms.

“I was hesitant to tell you this before but I think its fair you know.” He started and the words that followed had Vera floored.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever met to survive a stand fever. Keep that in mind before you think you’re too weak to go on your own.”

Vera’s widened gaze couldn’t look away from his face, as if her next blink was going to make him disappear before her very eyes.

“You’re serious? The first?”

That same sadness returned to Avdol’s eyes, but a mismatched smile returned briefly as he straightened up once again and with a fold of his hands into his sleeves said: “Don’t let that information go to your head.”

Vera smiled back, watching the window roll up between them and Avdol become smaller in the rear windscreen.

“Oh, this talk is far from over Muhammed Avdol.”

[cherryyharryy]

Chapter 5: Clavicular Notch   

 This dream isn't feeling sweet

A shattered gasp shot through her lips as her head flew off the pillow. Harry’s shirt was glued to her drenched body and her pillow held more than her imprint. Adeline clenched the comforter through the exhausted and weakening paralysis coursing in her bones, focusing on what little energy and strength she could conjure up to throw the heavy weight off her body.

She counted back from ten before finally opening her eyes, willing her lungs to find a calmer rhythm. It took her brain a few moments to register that she was awake, her legs now dangling off the edge of the bed, allowing her feet to get used to the shock of cold from the hardwood.

After a few minutes of stirring in silence she shuffled out of her room in need of a glass of water, eyes nearly closed and her tongue struggling to swallow in dryness.

The apartment was dark, and she didn’t have the stamina to fiddle around for the light switch when she stumbled into the kitchen. The sink seemed miles away as she drug her feet across the tile, yanking a mug off the rack on the counter and filling it to the top with cold water.

She adjusted her shirt so it covered her thighs before sliding onto the barstool at the island, sparing her already tormented body from the bite of the cold leather. She only had three big gulps past her lips when her body flinched at a sudden burst of light.

“What are you doing up?”

An ankle-length-nightgown-clad Nicole strolled towards the stove where she started a pot of tea. She flipped the box of small packets open and picked out a few before deciding on one, which only sent memories of Harry tumbling through Adeline’s head.

Harry and his middle of the night tea that served to further his consciousness rather than its intended purpose of soothing his wired body and rambunctious mind, which led to flirty texts buzzing through her phone and a whispered phone call until one of them fell asleep.

But Nicole was no Harry and now they had a bit of a different routine.

Despite having been asleep for hours, every hair on Nicole’s head was in place and her nightgown was wrinkle-free. There were no makeup smudges under her eyes nor any evidence of a panic attack wreaking havoc on her as she slept. Her kettle steamed right away, drawing her questioning eyes from where they’d been resting on her younger cousin.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“These walls are thin you know,” Nicole eyed her knowingly, “I can hear you gasping and mumbling to yourself.”

“I’m just a little stressed.”

“Are you having nightmares? Are you—why are you using a mug for water?”

Adeline looked down at her drink and sighed. “No nightmares, just stress. I think I let it build up and then at night it all hits, and then I just...lose it. I don’t know.”

Nicole took a seat beside her cousin, her tea in perfectly manicured hands. “What are you so stressed about?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? How could you not know?”

Adeline shrugged. “Life I guess. That’s what I worry about.”

“What could you possibly be stressed about?” Nicole asked accusingly, waving her spoon in the air. “You’re 18, living in a rent-free apartment, away from your parents. You’re at a great school, no job, no major responsibilities. Your skin is blemish free...what’s the problem?”

Nicole’s criticism only furthered Adeline’s need to shut down. The clinking of her spoon stirring her tea grew louder, mixing in with the whirlpool of reasons she should be happy flinging around her mind.

“I know, I know. I’m very blessed. I don’t know what it is, just got a case of the blues.”

Nicole’s eyes narrowed in on her. “Alright then, whatever you say.” She brought her cup to the sink, mumbling about all the chores she had to do the next day before cleaning up her mess and bidding Adeline a weak goodnight.

Adeline downed the rest of her water and slid off the stool, holding back a round of tears as she she rounded the island, leaving her mug on the counter for Nicole to fuss about in the morning.

***

Half an hour later and Adeline was still tossing in bed, so she resorted to the only thing that could quiet her mind.

“Hello, darling.”

“Harry…”

“Bad night, love? You alright?”

“Just tell me about your day.”

And so their routine began; her calling in the middle of the night to rely on Harry’s voice for comfort. The time they spent together took a major hit when fall semester began. His college acceptance letter to Chadron had been bittersweet, knowing what it meant for their relationship.

“I had quite a productive day. Woke around noon to go stand in line at this new record store that was opening. I was eighth in line, Addy.”

“So? What does that mean?”

“That, my dear, means that you are talking to the proud owner of two free vinyls.”

Adeline settled back into her pillows, her body finally able to relax at the thought of the smug grin that was surely adorning his face, lying in his small bed, shirtless with the covers kicked down to his feet because he always got too hot, fan on high with that morning’s coffee still sat on the nightstand.

“Congratulations, glad to hear you skipped class yet again for a worthy cause.”

“You’ll eat those words when you’re listenin’ to this delicacy the next time we see each other.”

“Neither of us even owns a record player.”

“M’working on it, babe, don’t worry about it.”

“Anyway,” Adeline hummed, “what are your plans for tomorrow?”

“Guess I’ll go to class considering I haven’t gone all week.”

“All week! Harry you can’t do that! This isn’t high school. They aren’t going to cater to you. If you miss assignments, that’s it, no more turning things in whenever you want.”

“Thank you, mum.”

“M’serious, Harry. We can’t slide by anymore. Last week this girl showed up ten minutes late to class and my professor told her to leave. He said if she was going to be late, then she shouldn’t even bother showing up. We have to be more responsible now.”

“I know, but s’just not any fun. Guess that's what happens as yeh get older, the fun dies a little each day."

"I think that's a little dramatic. We can still have fun, we just have to put school first."

"For someone so smart that was a load of shit, Addy. If I were to die next week, my life flashing before m'eyes, what do you think I'd wanna see?"

"I know," she let out a sigh, "I get that, I do, I just don't wanna mess this up. This is the rest of our lives we're talking about."

"True, but you can't have all work and no play either," he reasoned. "See, this is why we should've gone to the same school. We balance each other out. You could yell at me to do my homework, and I could drag your bloodshot eyes away from your laptop to some stupid party."

Spending her college years with Harry would be a dream. She missed him more and more as the days went by. The picture he painted made her skin tingle and her brain dance, wanting nothing more than to live out the innocent fantasy.

"And then what?"

"We'd be there for an hour before leavin' out of boredom, tired of watching people drink themselves into a coma and mixing drugs in the bathroom. Then we'd go get ice cream, or go skinny dipping."

"How are those my only choices?" She laughed.

"Sorry, I meant, go get ice cream, and go skinny dipping. Forgive me love, m'quite knackered."

"You're ridiculous. What about in the winter when it's cold?"

“In the winter we would...go back to my apartment, cause you're roommate is really weird. Like, really weird. And pile up every blanket we own onto the bed and just hug 'till we fall asleep."

"You mean cuddle."

"You know I don't like that word, Adeline."

Laughter erupted from her mouth at his sudden serious tone. It had been late at night, not long after they first got together, that he informed her of just how much he hated the word. It was on a list that included overdone brownies, people who let newspapers pile up at the end of their driveway, and seeing babies in frigid grocery stores without socks on their feet.

"I couldn't help myself. I—ugh, Nicole is shouting at me to be quiet. I should probably go." her eyes flickered to her clock. "It's getting late anyway, almost three."

"Yeah, I have an early class tomorrow, he sighed.

"Thought your Thursday class didn't start 'till eleven?"

"It does, that's early."

"Whatever, Harry."

"Hey,” he cooed, “I know you've been really stressed out lately, yeh need to step back sometimes to relax."

"I know, I've just been overthinking about my life at the moment."

"You're living the dream, babe."

"I know, s'just not what I was expecting.

"And what was that?" He asked.

"I—I don't know. Just doesn’t feel the way I think I should feel. I don't even know if that makes any sense."

"It does, I understand."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I miss you too, angel. More than you know."

***

And then her professor, a dignified man with three degrees and a never ending collection of sweater vests, who erased everything he wrote on the board about two seconds after he wrote it, who's advice for her when she came to him for tutoring was to 'look at her notes', was anything but helpful.

The classroom was on the exact opposite side of campus from her class right before, and you'd think fifteen minutes would be more than enough time to get there, but a few weeks in and she can only manage to arrive after the door had been locked and she’s left to interrupting the lecture with her knocking.

On top of that, the room was freezing. The guy that usually sat next to her asked for a pencil every. single. day. And last week she sat in gum.

So needless to say, she dreaded Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Despite the weekly impending doom, today she had high hopes. They were getting their first test back, and she was in need of some good fortune. Nicole had been a grouch that morning, complaining about how she interrupts her morning routine, which led to an argument which led to her storming out without even having the chance to brush her teeth.

So an 'A' on a test, which she knew she was getting—she had studied for hours—was just what she needed to turn her day around.

***

Dr. Wallace loved to torture apparently, making them wait the entire hour and fifteen minutes of which she couldn't harness any concentration, until he passed back their exams. Adeline’s heart was a pounding frenzy and her bones were tingling.

When the seventy-five question test was finally laid down before her, her brain froze in mindless thought and the anxiety filling her up moments ago switched gears. She looked up to her professor, who was already five rows past her’s, and back down at what must be a mistake.

Had to be a mistake.

Please, God, let it be a mistake.

***

"Well maybe next time you'll try a little harder. Set some time aside and study, you can't have your boyfriend the focus of your life anymore, school needs to be your priority, Adeline."

She just sat there, dumbfounded with her mouth gaping around silent protests. Her dad flipped through the pages of her test, shaking his head every so often. At one point he pointed out one of her wrong answers, with the audacity to ask her why she got it incorrect. And he did not care for her response of 'I didn't know the answer'. Before she even had a chance to put a sentence together, he continued on with his rant.

"College is different, honey. Your professors aren't goin' to babysit you anymore."

"I know dad, I know." her head dropped into her hands. She huffed out a shaky breath and met his gaze once again. "I guess next time I'll start preparing three weeks ahead of a test."

"Now that's what I'm talking about." He slid from his seat at the table, nodding with each word as he picked up both of their plates. "More cake?"

She shook her head. "M'just gonna head back."

"What? I thought you were spending the weekend? That's a long drive."

"Yep. So the sooner I leave, the faster I get back." She slung her bag over her shoulder and rounded the island to kiss her dad's cheek. "I'll see you guys at Thanksgiving."

***

Strike two. The understanding of trying your hardest was not a part of the genetic makeup on her dad's side of the family.

"Adeline, I don't know what you want me to say? This is a terrible grade. You got what you deserve. You get out what you put into things. Try harder next time."

With that boost of encouragement Nicole tossed her now crumpled test on the counter and went back to scrubbing the bare fridge, mumbling about how Adeline arranged all of its contents wrong and how she has to do everything.

"You're not listening. I did try. Really hard—"

"If you tried hard you would have the grade to show for it."

She snatched her test and spun on her heel. "Whatever, Nicole. M'goin' to bed."

***

Surely this was a joke. Bombing this test was bad enough, but everyone’s negative input was just another muddy stomp across her heart.

“You can’t be mad, Addy, not at me or anyone else.” Gina, Adeline’s friend from high school whom she sat with in her Sociology class, attempted to smooth out her test on the edge of her desk. “You’ll do better on the next one.”

“But Gina, you can understand why I’m frustrated. I mean, look at the second question—it’s ridiculous! How can he expect anyone to get that right? And—”

“Blaming the professor will get you nowhere.”

She sighed and took her somewhat smoother test from her hands and stuffed it into her book bag, trying not to let any more tears slip all because of one stupid exam.

“You’re my friend, aren’t you supposed to complain alongside me, y’know, and tell me as long as I try my best it’s good enough?”

Gina brought her coffee down from her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “M’not your mom at your dance recital. You’re in college now. The bar for doing your best has raised, so you’d better catch up.”

***

"It's one test, love. You'll do better on the next one."

"You don't understand, Harry." She kicked her door shut and flopped down on her bed, keeping her phone pressed to her ear. "I spent hours over the course of days studying. Took pages of notes, did the practice questions, I even went to a study group with some people from my class! All for nothing but a lousy fuckin' 42."

"M'sorry Addy, know how you feel," he sighed. "But I also know how smart you are, how yeh never give up. You'll come out of this class with an A, I know it. Remember that biology teacher you had? She was a piece of work and you made it outta her class alive. I'm rooting for you, darling."

She relaxed into the pillow, letting herself believe his encouragements. It wouldn't last, she’ll worry and panic the rest of the semester, but for now she’ll pretend he's right.

"Thank you, Harry."

"F'course. S'what I'm here for. So other than everyone you know not taking your side—”

“Don’t mock me!”

“S’your own words,love.”

“I was really upset!”

“I know, I know. But you’re not now?”

“Until my next test.”

He sighed on the other end, and now more than ever did she wish she could see him, feel him. His voice alone was losing its convincibility that Harry was actually physically on the other side of the call.  

“Take a deep breath, baby. Your whole college career isn’t dependent on this one class. Everyone has a test or two that they’re going to bomb. All you can do is learn from it. Maybe find someone who’s already taken this professor, see how they survived.”

“Yeah, there’s this guy in my history class who took it last semester. Guess I could pick his brain.”

“There you go. You’re going to be fine. And if all else fails, I’ll support you for the rest of your life.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. “Shut up.”

“So...any luck with picking a major?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t ask,” she sighed.

“How many times do I have to tell you—”

“I know, I know. Literature. But—”

“It’s your calling. Your mom said you’re an incredible writer.”

Adeline rolled her eyes. “She’s my mom, she has to say that.”

“I’d say it too if I was allowed to see any of your work.”

Adeline bit the inside of her cheek, thankful that Harry couldn’t see her at the moment. She’d done an excellent job of keeping her writing to herself, only choosing to share a poem or short story here or there with her family, but the thought of Harry reading anything she’s put down on paper filled her with more fear than she’d like to handle.

“I’ll think about it,” she mumbled softly. “My major I mean. I’ll think about literature.”

“Good. And—ah my neighbor’s here. I blew him off last week, can’t do it again.”

“Have fun. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t if you’ll stop stressin’ over this class for now.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” Harry sighed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, love.”

[xellzios]

Hope

PREVIEW:

The world was turning red and he couldn’t, wouldn’t even try to stop it as all of his thoughts disappeared and turned him back into a monster.

He screamed in fury. There was no turning back.

The feel of the quinque slicing through flesh was a knife in his gut, slowly and painfully going in. A voice, full of despair suddenly sent ceaseless attacks in his ears; one that rang on his ears and broke his heart, one he couldn’t ever dare forget. And the smell of metallic blood and flesh hung to him and left him with a sick feeling that seeped into his nostrils and down his throat.

“This is not your fault, please don’t think of this as your fault,” a set of lips mouthed the words more than she actually spoke them, her eyes wide in panic and realization of what had just occurred. And yet, the same eyes told him – no, begged him to consider her words. There was scarcely any breath left in her to do more, he noted, and yet she was still slowly and painfully trying to walk to where he was. She moved to reach him with her right hand – to try and reach him, but instead, she fell. The loud thud echoed in his body. He wanted to scream at her that it WAS his fault, that had he been stronger and have done this differently, none of this would have happened. But his mouth did not belong to him anymore and he remained voiceless as he watched her crumble towards the ground, clutching her stomach as she let her tears fall while she fought to keep her eyes open. He should have been here, he should have anticipated this, he should have been better. And yet, once again he has proved how useless he was in protecting the people he loved. If he could have stilled and stopped his heart, he would have, but it was out of his control.

Save for his eyes. It was the only thing in his body which followed the scene that unfolded in front of him. And he saw how his wife’s body shimmered from the tears that burned painful trails along his cheeks as they fell. When she collapsed, he wanted to shriek and howl his grief to the skies, but no sound ever came. He couldn’t even bring himself to get angry, not yet. The air around them, muddied with the smell of flesh and blood, a silent crypt.

Yet a harsh, mocking laughter found his way towards his head, scornful of him and his wife. ‘Once again, your inability to choose caused the death of your beloved and your child.’ The voice mocked in a soft, slow whisper. ‘It’s all your fault, hypocrite.’

‘It’s my fault, it’s my fault.

Why?

Why is it always me?

Is it too much to ask for a sliver of hope in this dark, twisted world?’

The world was turning red and he couldn’t, wouldn’t even try to stop it as all of his thoughts disappeared and turned him back into a monster.

He screamed in fury. There was no turning back.

His eyes jolted open and pulled the rest of Ken awake, to stare at a world that was bathed in a nighttime blue so deep, it was almost black. There was a constant thumping in his ear that felt like the sound of heavy rain, yet he realized that it was mostly due to the heavy beating of the heart that mercilessly pounded against his chest. Knowing it didn’t help dissipate any of his panic, and his limbs wouldn’t answer him. The terror in his mind wouldn’t also grasp that his paralysis was from drowsiness and sleep fog. Flashbacks of the scene suddenly filled his thoughts and started an array of panic that made his fingers shake and his legs kick out like a started deer. They bumped against something solid, and he became painfully aware of another warmth that was pressed in is chest, and wrapped around his arms. It pinned him down, and he trashed in panic until he was released with a startled grunt.

“Kaneki!” A voice blurted into his ear, filled with panic and worry. And as he strained to breathe Ken finally grasped what he was pressed against. He twisted around to see his wife staring at him, eyes wide with worry in a way that sent his stomach back into a lurch. And before his heart could jump back to pounding its way out of his chest, she grabbed both of his hands and wrist and palms and clasped them tightly.

Her grip anchored Ken, and gave him the space to breathe and focus on her touch instead of thinking about the panic that was still trashing inside him. His knowledge of his surroundings slowly began to sink in as time passed between the two of them. The roof overhead was still made of the familiar metal, with the worn-out bed still warm against his body.

‘Home.’ They were in the bedroom, not some half crumbling tunnel where blood rained. When he breathed in, there wasn’t the smell of some flowers of death nor dust, or the metallic taint of blood in his nostrils. Though the air had a damp, humid taste to it, he was still thankful. He could now pick out more of the furnishings in the simple room that they shared – the small lamp in the bedside table and the warmth of the blanket that lay forgotten near the edge of the bed, already going as far as falling from it. His body sank back into the old mattress and the bed rustled as he shifted his legs again, this time without any thrashing as he looked back at Touka.

The worry hadn’t dissipated from his face, but Touka kept her voice hushed as she slowly relaxed her fingers one by one, freeing him. They shifted from their position and she allowed Ken to sit, his eyes never leaving her face. He half-sobbed and half-chuckled as he studied her, alive and well. His relief was so palpable, yet the image of her dying has burnt itself into him as he remembered the sadness that swam in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Touka’s voice brought him back, before he was tangled up with more images yet again.

“Nightmare,” he blurted with a shaking voice. She heard how much each of the syllables he muttered trembled, so she traced her hands from his arms to around his shoulder as her fingers stated to move in circles on his back, doing what she could to ease the fear out.

“Was it –?”

“Y-yeah, the same one.” He knew the question before she even finished, and nodded as he sank into Touka’s arm, finding solace in between the crook of her neck as he breathed her scent. ‘She’s alive, she’s here.’ He kept repeating these words to himself, as if it would be enough to delude him that whatever he had seen didn’t really happen.

‘She’s not dead.’

Having the same nightmare never diminished the terror he felt whenever it visited. It started after their base got attacked by the oggai while they were out hunting for provisions, and it never left.

He couldn’t even count the time he spent trying to process what happened, as the unease in his heart gnawed him. They survived, but they were forever scarred. And it opened up his eyes how his actions spiral into an effect that could mean the death or lives of not only the people whom he wanted to protect, but also the ones who believed in the world that the one-eyed king presented. Fear still kept his throat tight, and his mouth like sand whenever he remembered.

Blood everywhere.

Juuzou’s quinque bringing Touka’s death.

His eyes closed as he forced himself to breathe deep so that the images would fade away. It wasn’t real, they’re alive.

It was fine. Or was it?

“It’s okay, Kaneki.” Her hands moved and cupped either side of his face, keeping their gaze connected. “I’m still here, we both are.” She kissed his forehead to prove a point, her lips radiating with warmth in his clammy skin.

Ken traced his fingers down her arm, resting them over her growing belly. He spread them out until his hands were splayed open-palmed across Touka’s stomach, towards where their child was. He absorbed the feel of her skin and felt the child kick, observing for himself that he was right; ‘Touka’s safe,’ he thought, her skin was unmarked and undamaged. There wasn’t any blood under his touch, though he still kept moving them to make sure. ‘She’s safe and she is here.’

His hands eventually skimmed through Touka’s lower ribs and waist, making her shudder and part her lips in a low moan. Between the pulses, he found her eyes again as their lips finally intertwined. Touka murmured into his mouth, meaningless words that she hoped would give reassurance as they echoed in her mouth and his ears. She was his rock that anchored him from the storm that threatened to sweep him away.

“It was a dream, it wasn’t real.” The same words he kept repeating in his head, she whispered to provide a small comfort of her own. Or at least, an attempt to comfort him even if she knew it still shook him.

He never fully confided in her, even if he was so snug against her and wrapped in her warmth. There was a chill working its way back to his skin, one that didn’t vanish even if he was watching her. Ken could still imagine her face once again contorted with pain and anguish, while her eyes pleaded him not to blame himself.

‘She should know.’ He told himself, fighting against the knots forming in his stomach. ‘She is my other half and my wife. She deserved to know all of it.’

His hand curled into a fist against her collarbone, his face contorted in pain and anguish. He would never forget that day. How could he? He almost lost his mind in worry when he saw their base littered with bodies of both allies and foes. The first thing he tried to do was look for her, hoping that she was ok. And when he did find her, he was ridden with guilt. But even if she was tired and hurt, she was still the one who offered comfort. Guilt ate him afterwards, and if weren’t for the fact that Touka was there to set him straight, he knew he wouldn’t have recovered.

Because he had no choice but to recover. For the future of his people, loved ones and that of his child. Had that been taken away from him as well, he might have already lost it and would’ve become a monster.

‘Be strong,’ he thought, swallowing as he forced himself to speak. “It just wasn’t a dream, Touka-chan,” his voice was rough as if he just swallowed a handful of sand, it pained him to keep speaking. “In my nightmares, I am reminded how close I was to losing you, and I still regret it every day.”

The whirlwind of emotions flooded his thoughts and his mind, drowning what coherency he had left in his speech. “I – if, if only I was a better king, I would have been able to avoid all the senseless death that happened that day.” Battered from the nightmare, he left the full events of his dreams spill out for the first time. His throat rasped when he described how Juuzou cut her, how he was too late to save her and all the ghouls under his care. “I want to do anything I can to undo it, but it doesn’t matter how much I try to cry or beg or even scream – in the dream, you still died. It’s still because of me.”

Touka might have followed his thoughts, as she held him closer, fingers closing around his. “Baka.” She smiled.

“Look.” Her voice was almost too close to the one in his dreams, pleading for his focus to stay with her. The roar of his own heartbeat half-drowning out his voice didn’t help either. When he kept his eyes on their entwined fingers, she looked at him. “Please look at me.” It wasn’t an order, but his head dipped itself to look at her anyway.

She didn’t look scared, or angry or any of what he was half afraid of. What she had instead were concerned eyes narrowing as she brushed some stray hair away from his face. Her fingers were soft with their touches, giving him a slight sense of reassurance, yet it felt like she was afraid that if she pressed too hard, it might break him. And given how fragile he was at the moment, it might come true with the slightest provocation.

“You’re greater than whatever it is your nightmares tell you,” she spoke softly against his ear, pulling him close as she rested her head in his shoulder. “We survived, and we are here. And I know you will do everything you can in your power to keep it from happening again.” He burned from the words, his eyes downcast as he took in everything she said. ‘Can he really do that?’

“I believe in you, Kaneki.” His eyes widened at the magnitude of her words. They were soft, almost a whisper, yet it was as if it was all that he needed.

He held up long enough to listen to her words, before falling into her chest with something that might have been a laugh or a sob. He couldn’t really tell with how much was crashing through him. His face was burning; eyes, throat and even his nose, and he pressed himself into her neck to stall the feeling.

His wife didn’t say anymore, and instead traced her fingers through his hair until they were woven well in and could hold him steady. In another breath, she drew his head close to hers and the rest of his body shifted so that they lay flush together.

Hours later, Touka had an easier time finding sleep than he did. Ken didn’t know what weighed more on him and kept him awake – the worry of what might be waiting for them over the horizon, or the fear of what would be waiting for him in his dreams. He had to bring his own hands and stare at it, and see that the skin was clean with no traces of her blood.

He shifted his gaze to his wife and smiled at her peaceful face. It hadn’t been easy for them during the last months, especially with her pregnancy and the everyday danger that GOAT had to face. Gently, he brushed a stray lock away from her face as he recalled how hard this pregnancy had been on her.

She still hated every bite of human food that she took in order to care for the baby. There was even a time she threw up in his chest because her body had been rejecting it awfully. On days like those, he chose to be at her side almost every waking hour of the day, knowing that he couldn’t, wouldn’t even dare to leave her alone. And even if he knew he was useless, he wanted to at least make sure he could give as much as comfort as he could for her. In some days, it would break his heart for him to see her suffer for the sake of their child, to have to watch her be miserable.

Yet she endured. They endured.

They were both ecstatic to meet their young one, but the fear of what kind of world he would be brought into always lingered in his heart. He wanted his child to be brought into a world where fighting wasn’t needed, where he would be happy to choose and live however he wanted without any repercussions nor danger. Because of this, he had been working extra hard to find a way to achieve peace to end this conflict, and they were close.

He rested a hand on his wife’s bulging stomach, as if silently trying to convey unspoken promises to his unborn child. He knew he had done a sucky job as a king, yet, even after all this time, he had been trying to change – to shift his views for a future that ghouls and humans can enjoy, a future where his child will live happily and laugh freely, for the cycle of hatred and tragedy to end. It was Touka who made him realize that.

“I believe in you.” The words now echoed in his heart and mind.

For the cage to break and reveal a set of white wings that can fly high in a beautiful, peaceful world.

“I believe in you.”

The pregnancy had been a touchy subject when he brought it up with his close friends, yet everyone’s response what that of joy… and hope. Still, although he couldn’t fathom how it could spell as a hope in a world that still seethed with destruction, he felt like this elevated his role not as a king, but because he wanted be a father who wanted to provide his child with a world devoid of danger and troubles. A world without despair and loss – where their child would grow up with both parents showering him with love.

A world without tragedy.

“Still awake?” Touka’s words was laced with drowsiness. “You should get some sleep.”

“I know… just thinking about things.” As he spoke, Touka slid one elbow off him so she could prop herself up on the mattress and look down at Ken. She tried to put a stern look on her face as she listened, which was slightly ruined by the fact that her eyelids were still heavy with sleep.

“I thought we made it clear that it will be my job to plan and consider things from now on?” She said, managing to put some scolding in her voice well enough. Ken grinned back at her as she laid her fingers out on the skin of his shoulders.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t let you do that on your own.” Touka snorted in response and looked at him seriously. “Another thing weighing on your mind now?”

He sighed, looking at her eyes. “Yes.”

His response was enough to pique her curiosity, sleep forgotten as she settled down and rested her head in his chest. “Why?”

“I was thinking about a world where our little one would be happy.” He whispered sheepishly, his cheeks flush from the revelation as he touched his wife’s growing bulge, feeling the life underneath it. “I don’t know how I’d fare as a father, but I want to give this child a world where he does not have to go through the pain that we did.”

Touka smiled at his earnestness and covered the hand in her stomach with her own as she closed her eyes. “You will.”

His gaze shifted to her, seemingly lost on how she could say it with ease. “How can you be sure?”

Sensing his hesitance, Touka put his hand where their child just kicked her, in an attempt to make him feel the growing lifeform inside her that she had tried so hard to protect. “The world changes, Kaneki. What hardship we feel right now doesn’t have to be the same for our child and if he does get hurt or fall down, he has us.” I no longer feel worried that you will disappear because I have hope, hope that you want this as much as I do.

“I don’t even know if I will be a good parent.” He revealed, looking at the ceiling.

“Me too.” She closed her eyes as she concentrated the movements of their child inside her, still marveling at the life that lay safe and protected in a cocoon. It was surreal, especially for someone like her. Despite the dangers and the uncertainties, this child had given her light in the darkness that was this world. And it was up to her to see that he/she would be able to experience the joy and pain of living. “But it is something we will have to learn together.”

Ken smiled, reassured that whatever happens, and no matter what shitty job he did, he would always have Touka. She gave him hope when he felt like his life had come to a stop. And she lighted that hope to a point that he no longer had to focus on surviving, but so that they could look forward to a future untainted by blood.

“What would I do without you?” He smiled at her, pulling her tightly in his arms.

Touka blushed profusely, her embarrassment apparent at his words, and yet her eyes looked sad and melancholic as she gazed somewhere he couldn’t reach. “There was no way you’d be here, baka-Kaneki.” There was a hollowness to her voice, and he could see how drained she was from the slump of her shoulders and the dip of her head. If their foreheads weren’t almost touching, he might have never heard any of her words.

“But we’re both still here.” He had to point it out to her this time around, to remove the waver in her eyes. “And I’m glad for this hope you gave me.”

Ken twisted his hand around, tucking it behind her head to pull her forward until they were curled so tight together.

Hope.

Touka smiled contentedly, the word ringing like a melody in her ears. In that moment, it was Ken who fell asleep first, with her tracing a hand through his hair. His dreams were quiet that night, save for a clear blue sky and the presence of a child holding his mother’s hand smiling, as if waiting for him to join them.

And this time, it was his hope to see it come true.

World || Hope || Life || Strength || Will || Closure

[mirkwoodshewolf]

I know what you’re going through; Bucky x teen reader

This particular oneshot came from an imagine from The Fandom Imagine and I may or may not post it to their tumblr page idk. Warnings are murder, descriptive killings, mentions of abuse and rape, MAJOR ANGST but it’ll end in fluffy feels at the end. The imagine is below, hope you guys enjoy ;) 

"Imagine having terrible nightmares of your past as a brainwashed Hydra assassin and Bucky always being there to help calm you down and hold you when you wake up".

Taglist:

@evyiione

_______________________________________________________

My name is (y/n) (l/n). I know it sounds common but most names do if you think about them long enough, maybe even yours. I once lived as a simple little girl on the farm, feeding the chickens, playing with Mr. Goose, and sitting with the horses from sunrise to sunset, yeah it seemed like a normal life at first but it soon all ended.

When the people in black with the red octopus symbol came to our farm one night during dinner and killed my whole family right in front of my eyes and took me away.

All of this happened when I was only just 5 years old.

From then on I lived a life in a small cell with no windows, cold metal walls, an old worn out mattress on the floor for my bed, and an old toilet. I was then trained to become a master assassin alongside HYDRA'S best asset "The Winter Soldier". I made my first kill on the President's secretary when I was only just 7 years old.

I was tortured, brainwashed whenever I tried to fight back or beg to leave, fed only when I completed a mission successfully, and pushed above and beyond my limit during training.

I was practically the living dead and was known in HYDRA as "THE GHOST GIRL" because of my pale complexion due to malnourishment and the fact that I could disappear on the scene faster than anyone could blink due to my nimble legs and fast reflexes.

When I turned 15, my life began to change.

I was located to Siberia, Russia to help some of the remaining secret HYDRA members build their weapons and train with some of their experiments. As I was in training but getting my butt seriously kicked, the base was under attack by some members of the Avengers. As the HYDRA soldiers and guards were busy trying to defend the base, I thought it would finally be an opportune moment to finally escape from this hell and finally feel the sun on my face and the ground between my toes.

I snuck out of the base and just ran as fast and as far as I could when I suddenly came face to face with a member from the Avengers. Weak and exhausted from running, I just fell to my knees breathing weakly as the Avenger wearing a jetpack of some sort on his back wearing red goggles.  I felt him catch me just before I could fall face flat in the snow and I heard him say.

"Cap, I'm heading back to the Helicarrier, I've got a kid and she looks malnourished beyond normality".

Next thing I knew, I woke up in a comfortable bed with needles up in my arm. I whimpered and tried to hurry and get them out thinking the drugs that were entering my body was more serum to make me stronger but a hand reached out for mine and a voice said.

"No, no, no, no leave it shhh, shhh. It's alright, its fluids and medication to counteract the drugs, it's alright". When I looked up I saw the one and only ex-asset from HYDRA, the Winter Soldier. "What's your name honey?" He asked in a softer voice. I just stared at him breathing heavily through my nose when I answered in a hoarse voice.

"(Y/n)".

"Nice to meet you (y/n)".

"Are you taking me back to HYDRA?" the Winter Soldier looked at me with a look of horror but it quickly turned back to gentle and welcoming.

"No, (y/n). We're heading to an Avengers base to get you some help, don't worry, you're safe now". I couldn't believe what I was hearing. For the first time in 10 years, I was finally free of HYDRA. Tears welled up in my eyes, my body began shaking as I tried to hold my sobs in since in HYDRA crying is seen as weakness, and if even one tear fell from my eyes, I would get beaten for showing weakness.

Sensing my inner turmoil to just let go, the Winter Soldier suddenly held me close to his chest.

"It's okay. I know what you're going through, I was scared too. But I'm going to help you, it's alright. You're free now, you're free". Surprised at the Winter Soldier's actions not even realizing that this was the same asset that HYDRA had used to do their bidding for over 50 years and have been tracking him the last year and a half for, was holding me like this comforting me.

But none the less, I finally let the waterworks out and cried as much as I could and not once did the soldier flinch, fake sympathy, or sarcastic remarks, he just held onto me comfortingly and kept whispering soft things into my ear until I had cried myself to sleep.

2 years later after my rescue from HYDRA, I had been given psychological as well as light physical therapy. I spent the first few months in the medical wing with doctors trying to get my health back up, along with being fed the correct foods and given drugs to counteract the ones HYDRA had given me for years, psychiatrists would come in and we would talk for hours on end about my life and what HYDRA had done to me for the past 10 years.

It was very, very, very hard having to repeat to these doctors over and over and over again every single day I went through with those people, hell some of the days were so bad, I would refuse to speak to anyone for weeks *if you want to know what it was that made me stay silent for so long, I'll only just say I'm not a virgin anymore and just leave it at that*. But the worst thing of all wasn't just talking about my past, the worst was at nights I would wake up screaming from the nightmares I would have of my previous HYDRA missions. Seeing myself getting brainwashed to do their bidding, the looks on my victim's faces and hearing their families screaming as soon as they found the bodies.

But you know what? Something good came out of that. With all the nightmares, the therapy, and the reliving of events, there was one person who was always there for me and never once complained nor did it because it was his job.

It was Bucky *after a while I had found out his real name from his friend Steve and the man who had found me, Sam Wilson aka Falcon*.

As said before, he didn't stay close to me because it was his job, he did it because he's gone through all this before.

He was willing to help me out and make sure nothing bad happened to me here in SHIELD because sometimes some SHIELD agents can get crazy and want to do further investigation on some people's powers, or if the psychiatrists tried to make me talk when I didn't want to because I was paralyzed from seeing all my crimes before my eyes, he would be there to tell them to lay off and end the session right there and take me back to my room and bolt the door shut and just hold me close.

Bucky had become like the big brother I had always wanted and even though he was reputed to not even socialize with anyone as much as the other Avengers, he always took the time to always be there for me, day or night. And it was lucky to because tonight I would need him the most.

It was bedtime and I had fallen asleep after writing a few poems in my journal given to me by Steve and just when I thought I could finally sleep peacefully, I had once again fallen into sleep paralysis of seeing my past catch up with me.

I was hiding inside the hall closet of an executive of SHIELD just waiting for him to come home. As I could hear the door open I was shocked to hear the sounds of two young boys laughing and giggling.

"Okay boys, get on up into your rooms, put your pajamas on, brush your teeth and get into bed!" My target's voice said. I soon heard the sounds of the two boys running across the hall and into their rooms getting ready for bed. I waited in silence as my target came into his boy's room, read them a bedtime story, tucked them in and kissed them goodnight. As the lights went off in their room and soon finally in his, I slowly and silently walked across the hall towards my target's room and readied my gun.

I stood over his bed with the gun pointing directly at his sleeping body when the door suddenly bean to open and without question I fired a shot at the person coming in only to see that it was one of his boys. The boy fell down into a pool of blood waking up the father and when he saw me and his son's dead body, he immediately went to attack me but I nimbly flipped over him, taking out some rope from my hip and landing behind him and wrapped the rope around his neck and tied it once tightening it.

"Where are the SHIELD plans?"

"Murderer!" I tightened the ropes on him and sneered.

"I won't ask again!"

"Go—to—hell!" I then took out my wasp knife and plunged it into my victim without a second thought and as soon as it plunged into his back, his inner organs came spilling out along the floor. I walked over the cold corpses of my two victims and headed towards the son's bedroom to be rid of the other son, no use in leaving witnesses alive, plus spare the kid his future suffering. I gently took one of the spare pillows and covered his face with it slowly smothering him, then when the kid began struggling trying to free himself, I put all my weight in my hands to smother the pillow further into his face until he stopped struggling.

With the family dead at last, I began to search through the father's study until I managed to find the flash drive HYDRA needed and successfully got out of the house and vanished into the night.

I was tossing and turning as I screamed, a voice was calling out to me.

"(Y/n), (y/n) wake up!" I suddenly shot up hyperventilating only to see Bucky sitting on my bed with his arms holding my arms soothingly, "it's okay it's okay! You're okay".

"Bucky?"

"Yes (y/n) it's me. You were having another nightmare weren't you?" I lowered my head sadly.

"It was awful, the worst mission I ever had to do, oh God I—"

"Shhhh, shhh, shhh. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I know I've had my shares of nightmares like that". I looked up at him and said.

"Did they ever involve killing innocent children? Children whose lives have barely begun? Innocent souls who never did a thing wrong and are so naïve to the dangers that truly lurk out in this world?! Bucky I kill two innocent boys around the same age I was when I was taken by HYDRA! I shot one of the boys as he was coming when his father was the real target, and then after the father was dealt with I smothered the other son with his pillow!" I gasped in some air and muttered, "I'm a monster Bucky, anyone who would kill children doesn't even deserve to even walk on this Earth anymore. Why are you still doing this for me? We both know deep down I am beyond fixing, I'm broken and there's nothing that can be done to fix me!" It was then I took out my gun from under my pillow and handed it to Bucky and continued, "Might as well just kill me now while you have the chance soldier, you have your mission, now see it".

I waited for Bucky to fulfill his mission that I had given him, one HYDRA soldier to another and we kill without a second thought, but after a long wait in silence, I didn't hear a gun fire. Instead the gun dropped to the floor and I was pulled into a strong chest.

"Don't you ever. Ever. Speak like that again! Do you understand me!? Don't you ever let me or anyone else hear you speak like that again!" Bucky deeply sighed and continued, "look; I know it's hard adjusting to this. You're scared, tired, paranoid beyond belief that everywhere you look these people still see you as what HYDRA made you into. But there is one thing that both SHIELD and HYDRA can never take away. Your heart. You weren't yourself just like I wasn't mine. HYDRA forced us to become like this for their own gains, me when I fell from the train, and you when you were just a little girl barely 5 years old. We both were weak and powerless to stop them at the time, we've allowed them to control us for far too long; but now. Right here, right now is the time to finally stand up and become the better person. It's true our red legers are dripping, soaked skin deep, but there is a chance to finally try to move on and help other people from becoming what we've become, by ending the bastard HYDRA once and for all". Bucky now held my face in his hands and looked at me with soft but determined eyes. My eyes shut and I began to sob softly, Bucky leaned forward and kissed my forehead gingerly then leaned his forehead against mine.

"Do you—do you promise you'll always be there for me?"

"I promise, I won't ever leave you until you tell me so". He smiled softly. Bucky then held me close to his chest and said, "try to go back to sleep (y/n), I'll make sure the nightmares won't come back".

"Thanks Bucky, I've always wanted a brother like you". I said as I started to close my eyes and fall asleep. Bucky smiled as he stroked through my hair and kissed my temple lovingly and whispered.

"And I've wanted a little sister like you baby doll". Bucky then laid down on my bed and held me in his arms for the rest of the night.

Bucky Barnes and I continued to always support each other trying to heal from our HYDRA persona and not only that I got to have a family again with the Avengers and most importantly with Bucky being the big brother I always wanted.

[taeinmycup]

Countdown To You | Pt. 5

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Member: Park Jimin

Words: 3.5k

Your soulmate clock is actually a countdown of how long your soulmate has left to live and holy shit you have to find your soulmate soon because your clock says you have three months left.” (source.)

A/N: a question for you guys; how long are 153 days and 13 hours in months? :) [you will get this author note after reading this chapter]

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6

You woke up from your sleep, everything was a haze in your vision – and you felt unusually weird. You tried to open your eyes, but you couldn’t, no matter how hard you tried. You then did an attempt to move your sleeping body, but this turned out to be useless as well. The weirdness you felt evolved into this scariness you felt building up inside your guts. What was this? Were you in a sleep paralysis? Your mind was definitely awake, so you thought your body might be sleeping? However, this felt too different from a sleep paralysis. You tried to convince yourself that you were in a sleep paralysis, but everything felt… unreal – which actually shouldn’t be the case if you were in a sleep paralysis.

Your throat felt dry – and you felt like you needed to speak up, even if it was just one word. You tried to open up your mouth, but it felt like your jaws were glued to each other, your mouth not listening to the signals your brain sent out.

“This must be a dream, it has to be,” you thought out loud, as you could hear your own voice in your head – making this echoing sound as if the inside of your brain was totally empty, with your mind being the only thing wandering around in it. All you could see was a black void, simply because your eyes were closed tightly, refusing to open up. This was too frustrating to you – not being able to move – and it felt like you were about to go nuts at any moment.

But right then, a certain voice stopped you from going nuts. The voice that has made your heart beat multiple times faster whenever your ears picked up the sweet, velvet-like sound. It was like this particular voice made you… complete. As if you were born to hear this voice – which you technically were, actually – because this voice belonged to no other than your dear beloved soulmate.

However, as the voice kept repeating its words – the more the voice repeated the words, the more strangled it sounded, like it was deeply hurt – and as you became more aware of what these exact words were, you could feel your heart shredding into pieces. With your body somehow being paralyzed, your tears weren’t able to come out, but you were sure that you would have cried a whole deep ocean if your body would not be in this state.

“Y/N. I will always love you. Please, don’t forget me.”

Waking up to a cold sweat was something that you hated. It made you feel scared and vulnerable – but also a little bit nervous. Although you knew it was probably because of the nightmares you occasionally had, you can’t help but think that there might be something more to it. As if there might a reason lying being your nightmares. Perhaps, a foreseeing of the future?

You slowly opened your eyes – the morning sunbeams shining through the white, transparent curtains – as you tried to move your tired limbs one by one. As your conscience started to wake up as well, you started to remember last night’s events – a smile appearing on your face as your mind literally replayed every scenario. With a slight blush on your face, your right hand reached out to the spot next to you, but only to realize that the spot was empty. You furrowed your brows, getting up immediately as you scanned your eyes through Jimin’s big bedroom, hoping to lay your eyes on that one man as soon as they found him.

It was then when you started to smell the nice aroma of fresh baked eggs, and the sound of a frying pan coming from what you assumed the kitchen. You sighed as the nice smell reached your nostrils, your stomach grumbling automatically afterwards, your longing to a proper breakfast getting bigger and bigger. Your breakfast consisted of sloppy cornflakes and a dry piece of bread these days – mainly because you were just too busy to make yourself a proper breakfast – so baked eggs on a fresh piece of bread was something you considered as luxe at this very moment. In a quick pace, you picked up Jimin’s buttoned-up blouse – which was all crippled thrown on the floor, totally forgotten – and put it on, the scent of Jimin’s cologne overwhelming you as you felt the soft cotton lingering on your naked skin. You eventually decided to make his bed after getting out of it, of which you thought would be a simple thankful gesture towards Jimin for letting you sleep in his house.

Two minutes later, you found yourself strolling out of the bedroom, following the delicious scent of these fresh baked eggs. You did not even know why or how, but you had this happy feeling lingering in your guts – and you were enjoying it. It took you a while to actually get to Jimin’s kitchen – since his huge penthouse was particularly one big maze – but you managed to find it, mainly thanks to your strong smelling senses.

The first thing you did as you arrived at his kitchen was literally gawking your eyes out. Jimin’s kitchen was huge. The size was probably almost the size of your whole apartment, and for once in your life, you actually saw a neat kitchen. Even your mom’s kitchen was not this neat. As you were admiring the beautiful kitchen, you did not notice a certain man looking at you, with an amusing smirk plastered on his face.

“If you already think the kitchen is impressive, wait until you see the living room.”

You jolted up from your daze, your head snapping towards the direction of the voice – this particular voice that managed to make you feel intensely weak on the spot, and you could feel your heart already beat rapidly in your empty and hollow chest as you locked your eyes with his beautiful, dark-brown ones. You slowly came to accept the fact that Jimin would always make you feel this way, but that didn’t mean you weren’t less affected by it than you were when you laid your eyes on him for the first time.

Plus, the fact that he was not wearing a proper shirt at the moment did not help either – and it was oh so hard to prevent your eyes from going downwards.

“You look good in my clothes,” Jimin remarked – the smirk still present on his handsome face – strolling towards you before putting his arms around your waist. He then gave you a soft peck on your lips, before pinching your sides teasingly, causing you to whimper as a reflex.

“I always look good,” you sassed back at him, sticking your tongue out playfully. “With or without clothes on me.”

Jimin raised a brow at your somewhat naughty remark, and it seemed that he definitely liked what he just heard. He shook his head at you, chuckling as he patted your nose with his finger. “Don’t say such things, before things will get out of hand, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh my fucking god. You just didn’t!” you let out a gasp as you pretended to be shocked – putting your hand on your chest in an exasperated way. Jimin let out a wholehearted laugh, and you could feel the familiar butterflies swirling in your stomach – and you realized you were falling even harder for this guy.

“All guys are the same. What do you weird human beings like so much about morning sex? All I can think about is breath smells lingering everywhere in the room and soggy-like sex.” You shook your head disapprovingly in a teasing way, at which Jimin rolled his eyes quickly – so quick that you almost wouldn’t catch it.

“Well, someone here is definitely not a fan of morning sex, huh?” Jimin asked underneath his breath, followed by a lighthearted chuckle, as he walked back to the stove – only to extinguish the fire and finishing up the rest of his cooking. You watched your beloved soulmate carefully as he took two plates out of one of the kitchen cabinets, cutting the omelet in two before putting the two halves on the plates – followed by the pieces of bacon. Although it was the simplest breakfast you had known, Jimin actually managed to make it look like the plates came straight out of that restaurant the two of you ate last night.

As Jimin was done with preparing breakfast, he picked up the two plates as he gestured you to follow him into the living room – not before he gave you a small peck on your nose and a teasing wink though, and you almost rolled your eyes at his cheesiness.

You assumed Jimin had to be joking about his living room – it just couldn’t be more beautiful than his kitchen. However, as soon as you stepped into the room, you could almost feel your eyes fall out of your sockets – this time not being able to suppress the gasp that was hiding in the back of your throat. His kitchen was huge, but his living room was enormous; probably five times bigger than the kitchen and his bedroom altogether.

“I told you so,” Jimin whispered into your ear – his presence next to you making you feel weak in the knees as you felt your right wrist burning again. How he managed to make you feel so weak and vulnerable like this – you didn’t know. But you were sure of the fact that Jimin was the one and only who would be able to make you feel like this, and no other guy would be able to.

And that was why you were so afraid of losing him.  

“Do you want to eat breakfast at the dinner table? Or just on the sofa?” Jimin asked you, causing you to jolt out of your thoughts. You turned your head, only to look him into his beautiful, shining and sparkly brown eyes – the most beautiful eyes that you had seen in your whole damn life – and all of a sudden you were wondering how a single person could be so perfect.

You shrugged your shoulders absentmindedly, letting him know that it didn’t matter much to you – you were in his house after all. “You can choose where to eat, it doesn’t really matter to me,” you said, giving your soulmate a soft smile to show him that you were fine with anything, really.

As long as you could eat your breakfast with him, anything would work for you.

“Okay…” Jimin muttered thoughtfully – his eyes shifting in between the dinner table and the sofa – before shrugging his shoulders as well, and gesturing you to follow him to the dinner table. You chuckled at him, thinking he was somewhat adorable this way; his dark-colored hair all messed up, his face a bit swollen – probably because he just woke up – as his lean body was covered by a pair of black shorts and an oversized shirt. This was a totally different side than the Park Jimin you were actually used to at work – strict, bossy and a perfectionist.

Right now, he was everything but these.

Jimin put down the plates on the dinner table – which was of course, huge. He pulled out one of the chairs, giving you a pure and sweet smile as he gestured for you to sit down. You couldn’t help but give him even a more pure smile back, before sitting down with your breakfast in front of you – ready to be eaten.

After Jimin settled down onto the dinner table as well, he gave you a knife and a fork – his angelic smile never disappearing. “Eat up, before it gets cold,” he ordered, although his voice sounded much softer than the one he used when he gave orders at work. And once again, you felt yourself getting weak in your knees as his honey dripping voice reached your ears.

“Oh, I will. I’m really hungry right now,” you remarked, picking up the fork – before dumping a huge piece of the omelet into your mouth. You had tasted better omelets in your life, but you were so hungry that the omelet was probably the most delicious one you had ever eaten – at least in that one very moment. Jimin looked at you with wide eyes briefly, probably shocked that you were literally devouring your breakfast, but his wide eyes towards you turned into his significant eye-smile immediately afterwards.

“Hey missy, take it slow. You don’t want to have stomach aches for the rest of the day, do you?” Jimin remarked in an amused tone, shaking his head slowly as he let out a soft chuckle. You rolled your eyes at him, as you were still chewing on your piece of omelet.

“At least I’m eating well,” you snarled back, already cutting another big piece of your omelet. “You don’t want a girlfriend who’s unhealthily thin, right?”

Jimin suddenly froze at your choice of words – his hand getting a tighter grip on his fork; so tight that his knuckles turned almost as white as the color of the plates. Your chewing stopped once you laid eyes on him – the relaxed atmosphere which was still here a few seconds ago completely gone, replaced by a suffocating one. You mentally scolded yourself and your choice of words. Girlfriend? Why did you even mention that word when it was definitely clear that you couldn’t be his girlfriend?

“I-I’m sorry. I took it too far, didn’t I?” you muttered underneath your breath, your eyes glued on the plate in front of you – ashamed of looking your soulmate into his eyes; afraid that you would get intimidated by these eyes once you looked into them.

His eyes were your biggest weakness, after all.

You could hear Jimin putting down his fork back on the table, and the next thing that you could hear was the sound of his chair shifting – the creaking noise of the chair’s wooden legs against the tiled floor making you jolt up for a split second. He was about to walk away. You closed your eyes tightly, the fear within you growing. He would probably leave you there, at least until you finished your breakfast – not saying one word to you as he would wait until you’d leave his house, only to never speak to you again. Nor at work, nor in your free time.

You messed up. Big time.

At least, those were the thoughts in your head. That’s why the next thing that happened shocked you completely, your eyes widening as you felt a strong pair of arms around your shoulders. The same strong pair of arms that held you so tightly last night – as if you would disappear if they would not hold onto you so tight. However at this moment, it felt like these arms kept you even more tight into the embrace.

“Y/N. Can I ask you something?”

When Jimin’s soft whisper reached your ears, you couldn’t help but shiver slightly – your right wrist tingling as your breathing became more irregular. You tried to calm yourself, although that was more of a hard task than an easy one, since he literally embraced you in his arms from behind. Afraid that your voice would betray your nervousness because of the sudden intimacy, you just nodded your head slowly – giving him the permission to ask you his question.

When you thought Jimin couldn’t hold onto you more tight than this, he proved you dead wrong as you felt that his embrace became stronger. You didn’t understand. The sound of his whisper, it almost sounded… sad. You were suddenly afraid of the question he would ask. Why was Jimin like this all of a sudden? What did he want to ask you all of a sudden?

“According to your soulmate clock – how long do I have precisely left until I will leave?”

Your breathing stopped as soon as you heard Jimin’s question. You slowly turned your head, only to look into his orbs – the usual lively sparkles in them replaced by a sparkle of sad reminiscence – and it seemed like your eyes reflected the same sparkle as well. Although you knew the exact answer to his question, you couldn’t help but feel hurt by it. The question reminded you of Jimin’s short-lived life – of his life threatening illness which could let him leave this world any second – and all your fears suddenly came back. The fear of seeing a weak, ill Jimin in a hospital bed – seeing him awaiting his death. As you looked into his dark-brown eyes that you learned to adore so much in such a short amount of time, you asked yourself if you would be able to handle the consequences of being with Jimin.

And that was probably why he kept his distance in the beginning – because he was aware of the consequences. The consequences of putting your thoughtless lust over your rational mind.

You kept staring into his eyes – hoping that he would retreat and take back his question. However, you knew Jimin and his decisive character – his decisive character made him the perfect CEO, after all. He wouldn’t take back his question, that you were sure of. You let out a deep – but shaky – exhale, letting your fears and thoughts leave your body with the breath you let out.

If Jimin wanted the answer, he would get it.

“From the last time I took a peek at my soulmate clock… You have three months. Maybe even less than three months since I haven’t looked at the clock for a week. It hurts me too much to look at it.”

You looked away from his eyes as soon as you answered his question, locking your own on the white plate in front of you – with the omelet and the pieces of bacon already turned cold. Jimin’s embrace was still as tight as it had been before he asked his question, which meant that the guy was not even surprised at all – let alone be affected by the news. But if he wasn’t, why did he even bother to ask you? Was it to see how you would react to the question? To see if you would answer the question or not?

The next thing that came out of Jimin’s mouth was a soft chuckle, the small breaths reaching your auricle. “The doctor predicted it right – I have to give him kudos for that.”

“He did? T-that’s impressive,” you muttered – your voice so soft that it was almost inaudible to Jimin. You could feel the familiar lump in your throat coming up, the tears already blurring your vision as you tried to suppress an ugly sob – in which you of course, failed. You absolutely did not want to cry, especially not in front of Jimin, because you would only feel like a burden to him. A crying ass burden who would make him even more sad than he already was.

If Jimin noticed your ugly sob, he didn’t mention anything of it. Instead, he kept quiet – stroking your shoulders as a form of consolation, topping it off with a soft and sincere kiss on the side of your head. Although his actions were supposed to make you stop crying, you couldn’t help but sob even louder after his kiss – and you wanted to kick your own ass for crying too much.

Jimin kept quiet the next few minutes, listening to your loud sobs as he let you cry until you would stop yourself. You were grateful that he let you cry freely and did not ask you questions – which was probably because he already knew the answers of them – but maybe it was also because he did not want to bother you with the same questions all over again.

“I have the day off today, and I confirmed that you have the day off as well after checking your schedule,” Jimin said in a soft tone, causing you to stop sobbing and raise your brows. Why would he have the day off today? Was it because of his treatments? Does he have to stay longer in the hospital as of today?

“I don’t have any treatment scheduled today as well, so today is all for ourselves,” Jimin continued – as if he could read your mind and decipher the questions lingering in your head. You wouldn’t be surprised if he actually could though, since he was your beloved soulmate after all.

“Okay… So what do you want to do then?” you asked hesitantly, wondering what Jimin was up to with that one little smirk plastered on his face – and it honestly frightened you a little bit. Your CEO was always known to be… very unpredictable.

“Let’s go to the amusement park – just you and me only, with nobody else to disturb the both of us. Sounds wonderful, right?”

Y/N’s soulmate clock;

Park Jimin’s life duration as of today:

153 days and 13 hours.