#everything needs to come crashing down on him both physically and psychologically

[varpusvaras]

The thing with writing Fox as a father is that he needs to be just a little bit unwell about his child. Especially if the child in question is Leia. He needs to be just a little too devoted to her, particularly during the early years. He needs to have so much pent up baggage about everything leading up to the fall of the Republic and losing his own health in the process he needs to be putting somewhere. So, if he can just dedicate all of his energy and brainroom to tending this little helpless creature and ignore all of his own problems, then so be it.

[miekasa]

fluff alphabet: levi ackerman

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, fluff…. obviously, no real warnings i don’t think, oh spoilers for his ova? 

↯ word count: 3k lol don’t ask me how

↯ notes: i was going to take requests for this for valentine’s day, but i figured i’d just do them all in one post lolol. i feel like i haven’t posted for levi in a while, so here we go

Activities — What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

If you ask Levi to do something, there’s a good chance he’ll try it at least once for you. Unless it’s something he’s said he explicitly dislikes or doesn’t want to partake in, he’d gladly try it out with you.

He strikes me as the kind of person to like trying new restaurants. Not necessarily the trendy or popular or exclusive ones; but local places with good recommendations or reviews.

Down for late night drives, but you have to be the one driving. He’ll drive if you become too tired, but he prefers to sit in the passenger seat and just let you take him wherever. He doesn’t mind, and it’s a sign he trusts you.

I also think museum dates would be some thing he enjoys. Not history museums—I feel like the concept of stolen artifacts on display would piss him off more than anything lol—but art museums. That’s not to say he’s extremely into art, but I think something about a museum environment is somewhat calming to him. He doesn’t mind.

One more activity I would say suits him is watching movies or shows together. Levi’s the kind of guy that catches you watching a series and expresses how it looks stupid or boring at first, but still hovers around and backseat watches it anyway. After a while, he just gives up and starts actively watching it with you and becomes invested. He just won’t admit it.

Beauty — What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

In the least cheesy way possible, everything. Levi sees people, and his s/o in particular, as a whole person, rather than the sum of their parts. He understands that everything about you—physical, emotional, or otherwise—contributes to the person he loves. There’s something to appreciate about all of it at different times.

He’d probably admire and/or find little habits you have beautiful in some way or another. Probably things you might not even notice about yourself unless he pointed them out to you.

Personality wise, he’d admire it if his s/o were blunt and/or the kind of person to stick up for themselves or their friends. A little bit assertive; not going out of your way to make other people feel small or be rude, but simply refusing to shrink to make room for others.

Physically, again, I don’t think he has a preference for most anything, but if I had to pick, I’d say he’s a thigh/ass guy.

Comfort — How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack, etc.?

Levi is observant, so he would be able to tell when you’re struggling perhaps before you’re ready to realize it yourself, and long before you’re about to burst.

However, he would ask you how he can help. For as observant as he is, he’s also not a mind reader, and if there’s something specific he can get you, he would want to know, even if it’s seemingly small or superficial.

He would be pretty proactive about it, too. The second he figures out how he can help, he’s on it. You need a new desk to work from home? He’ll have it built by that weekend. You’re feeling overwhelmed and behind on your tasks? He’s already doing the ones he can do without your help.

He does his best to try and help you relax if the issue is a stressor, and if he could, he would eradicate the root of the stress from your life completely. Unfortunately, in the real world, that’s not always possible, but it’s nice to know that he’s willing. 

The other obvious answer is tea, but allow me to expand it more generally to food. Going along with the theme of acts of service being his love language, Levi would try to provide the basic necessities for you in order to allow to focus on solving your problems and/or feeling better. If not worrying about dinner is one thing that can help you, Levi’s happy to cook for you.

Dreams — How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Simple, but fulfilled. Levi just wants to be happy—to have someone to care for, and to have someone who will care for him.

Truthfully, I don’t think he’d mind children later down the road, and I think he would be a good parent. It might not be something he talks about outright at first, but as time progresses, and perhaps the timing becomes right, it’d be something he would want to consider.

Equal — Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

It’s equal. Levi doesn’t want to have more power, nor does he want to be passive. However, there are things he doesn’t mind handing over to you, and conversely, responsibilities he doesn’t mind taking on himself.

Compromise would be a big part in the relationship—not for the sake of compromising on your dreams or ambitions, but rather, to reach a middle ground if there’s any kind of argument.

I think it’s a give and take with him. And I don’t think he would want it to be any other way. He doesn’t strike me as someone who’s on either polar end.

Fight — Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

When you do fight, it’s a lot of pointed frustration. He doesn’t raise his voice, but he can get snippy, and a little closed off—speaking in clipped sentences, using underhanded phrases, focusing on past points. What drives him crazy is the aftermath of the fight, and if you give him the silent treatment, he’s bound to crack much sooner than later.

He’s quite easy to forgive. Canonically, he doesn’t like to fight with his friends or the people he cares about, and he would rather reach a solution as quickly as possible.

We saw that with Isabel and Farlan, despite the way he was firm on his decision for them to stay behind, they were able to break his resolve pretty quickly. He cares a lot about the people in his life, and I don’t think he’d like to go long with a riff between him and you. Especially if he thinks he might regret not talking to you about it sooner.

He’s one to keep a promise, but not to hold a grudge. That is to say, he understands that forgiveness goes both ways, and to work in a healthy relationship, both parties have to forgive themselves and each other at some point.

Gratitude — How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Yes and no. It might take a minute for Levi to understand the depth of your actions—especially the ones that appear more mundane or are not as explicitly romantic.

Once he does, he is very aware of them, and as such, if very grateful. He didn’t every really think he’d be able to create and be apart of the kind of loving relationship the two of you have. He really cherishes it.

Honesty — Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He has secrets by way of omission. He doesn’t lie to keep things hidden from you, but sometimes he doesn’t tell everything about himself, especially towards the start of your relationship.

It’s not always with malicious or even self-protective intent. He just doesn’t share because he doesn’t think it’s important, or that you might care. If you pry long enough or insist that you want to know just to know and because you care, then he’s happy to share.

As previously mentioned, it might take him a while to realize just how much you care about him, and his past and interests by extension. 

Inspiration — Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

As your relationship progresses Levi comes to learn that you genuinely find him attractive not just physically, but emotionally and psychologically. That you actually want to know him and that he’s worth knowing.

So, his biggest change is in the way he approaches his thoughts about himself and his self worth. But he also begins to pick up on your habits, your interests, and tries to understand your general approach to life, too.

He would probably change you in some ways, too. Most notably in the way you organize and clean your space, probably. He’s not sorry about it.

Jealousy — Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

No, he doesn’t. To him, jealously would imply that someone has something he wants. Firstly, you’re not an object to him, and secondly, he has you. There’s nothing more to it.

He’s not childish, nor is he out of check with his emotions, so he wouldn’t lash out on you, especially if it’s not your fault. In his small momentary slips, you wouldn’t even have noticed he was jealous at all.

He wouldn’t like it if someone was repeatedly making advances on you, especially if you’ve explicitly told them off/they were making you uncomfortable. In situations like that, he would simply try to get the both of you out of there/away from the person as quickly as possible.

There’s also an element of trust to this with Levi. He wouldn’t expect you to try and make him jealous out of spite; and he would trust that you wouldn’t play on the advances of other people if you notice them.

Kiss — Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He is a good kisser. Mainly because he’s very perceptive to what you want and how to give it you.

The first kiss was sweet. Knowing Levi, there was probably quite the build up to it, so even if it was sweet and innocent, there was a layer of tension and a crash of emotions coming forward in the moment. It was memorable, to say the least.

Love Confession — How would they confess to their s/o?

I have imagined this time and time again… and I think it really depends on the foundation of your relationship/friendship with him before.

In the most generic scenario, it would probably be a little backwards—you would have, intentionally or not, gone on some dates before he realized what his feelings really were, and then take it from there.

If you were friends for a while before hand, it can probably go the implicit dating route—that is you’re both exclusively emotionally invested in each other, and basically involved in most relationship aspects without having realized it or put a label on it. You kind of naturally morph into a relationship, and it probably takes a verbal confession or kiss or two to solidify it.

It can also go the sexual tension route, and one day one of you finally snaps and makes a move. The verbal confession would come in the aftermath, but your actions will have solidified and expressed your feelings long before that.

Marriage — Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Again, yes and no. Without taking into account the legal aspects, the actual concept of marriage is that juxtaposition of sweet and powerful that Levi likes; the idea of devoting yourself to someone and receiving a special kind of love for the rest of your life.

And while all of that is beautiful to him, there are the unfortunate cultural norms or marriage, especially in a modern au. The legality of it all, especially the financial defaults, would be a headache. Not to mention all the fluff and grandeur and gender expectations about it. He thinks all of that fucking sucks.

Above all, he doesn’t get why people expect him to pay for what’s basically an expensive document that tells the federal government he lives with you and loves you. He could do that without them in his business.

If you want to get married, then the proposal is sweet. Intimate, and probably a call back to something in your relationship, or a significant date/event for the both of you. He wouldn’t dare do it in public or even involve anybody else, other than maybe asking a friend or two.

Marriage with Levi is much like being in a long-term relationship with him. The way he acts in marriage isn’t exponentially different than the way he had been acting as your boyfriend. It’s all still very quiet, very sweet, very domestic.

Nicknames — What do they call their s/o?

He calls you by your name, unless you ask him to call you by something else. He might call you by an actual nickname, that is a shortened version of your name, if that’s the name you usually go by.

He’s not big on pet names and they slip out from time to time, but not in place of your actual name on an every day basis. If anything, he calls your name with a very unique tone to his voice. He rarely calls for anybody else with the same tone and/or emotion.

On Cloud Nine — What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s not… not obvious to his friends, but he doesn’t look like he’s been shot by cupids arrow or anything. If you know Levi, you might pick up on the fact that he seems a bit happier, less stressed, has taken up new hobbies/habits, etc. But there’s not he’s not shitting rainbows and sunshine all of a sudden.

Love is very personal and intimate for him. He would do his best to express to you that he loves you and loves the love he receives from you, but he doesn’t feel that everyone else needs to know.

So, it’s somehow simultaneously noticeable and unnoticeable when you’re together in the presence of other people.

PDA — Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss when others are watching?

Levi isn’t big on PDA. He’s not hiding your relationship, but he doesn’t care to boast it to every person he meets, either. If somebody asks him, he’ll happily say that he’s in a relationship, but he doesn’t bring it forward himself.

He’s not hiding it or shy, but he doesn’t feel the need to be all over you in public. He doesn’t anything to prove to anybody. Besides, nobody wants to see that shit. He knows he wouldn’t.

There are some displays of affection, though. Hand holding isn’t abnormal, though likely not in a casual space with your friends or family. He’ll brush is hand along your arm when he’s walking past you, might ruffle your hair if the occasion calls for it, squeeze your thigh under the table.

Quirk — Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s canonically good at math. This comes in handy when you’re at restaurants and trying to calculate a tip quickly. Somehow, he knows how to figure out 18% of your bill in 3 seconds flat.

It also comes in handy when you’re trying to organize things. Along with math comes a pretty good understanding of spatial reasoning. Somehow Levi is always able to put away your left overs using the smallest and least amount of tupperware possible. It’s kind of ridiculous, he might be a wizard.

Romance — How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

In the traditional sense, he might not appear romantic, but he’s the kind of person to say or do or gift little things that would take a much deeper romantic understanding of his partner than some grand, generic act like buying a thousand roses.

His romance is tailored to you and your relationship, not general expectations of what it means to be “romantic.”

Support — Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Levi is very devoted to you, so if you ask for his help, or he can help without stepping on your toes, he will. He wants you to not only succeed, but feel fulfilled through your achievements, and he’s happy to help you get there.

He believes in you wholeheartedly. If it’s something you really want, Levi wouldn’t dare doubt that you could achieve it.

Thrill — Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He doesn’t feel the need to try out new things based on expectations, but if you want to try something, or if he wants to try something, you can have a conversation about it, and eventually try it out.

There’s a sort of established routine in a domestic sense; a sharing of a mutual space and the behaviors associated with that. But there’s not, like, established date nights or “week-a-versaries.”

In that sense, he can be pretty spontaneous; bringing up new places to go or activities to try when the idea strikes him. But I suppose it’s never something… too adventurous? Not dangerous, at least lololol, he’s not going to randomly suggest you go skydiving as a bonding exercise. 

Understanding — How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Very well. Levi kind of makes you his business—in the most non-intrusive way possible. He’s perceptive and picks up on things about you with relative ease, and genuine interest.

He can predict how you might respond in a situation with pretty good accuracy, can guess what you might pick off the menu at a new restaurant, if given a choice has a good sense of which option you’ll choose. Very much a “I knew you would say that/do that, I don’t know why I even asked,” kind of person once he gets to know you. 

He can be pretty empathetic, and I think he would be in a relationship.

Value — How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Your relationship is pretty damn important to Levi, and he devotes a significant amount of time and attention to it. Not in the place of giving time for himself, his friends, family or interests; but he is very much devoted to you.

However, he’s not the type to give up solid opportunities (ex: financial, for his family/mom, career-wise) for the sake of a relationship, especially if he’s not in the position to do so; and he wouldn’t want you to give up exceptional opportunities that align with your goals for him either.

Everything is relative in that sense, I suppose. He cares for you, deeply, and knows that you do, too. That, contrary to popular belief, is what enables you both to be strong enough to bend and not break.

Wild Card — A random fluff head canon.

I’ll give you a few :)

If you want him to, Levi will do your hair for you, and he’s pretty fucking good at it, too; hair type or texture be damned, he’ll take his time with it, and do it well for you.

When he’s alone, Levi hums himself to sleep. Usually singing/humming his mother’s favorite songs and/or songs he remembers hearing as a child.

He always gives you the lighter bags when you take your groceries upstairs/into your house. He doesn’t tell you, but he knows you don’t like to ‘make’ him do all the work.

He always makes dinner if he gets home before you.

He’s a pretty good artist, and has even drawn you once. He’s never told you or shown you, but he keeps the picture folded up in his wallet. Or behind his phone case.

XOXO — Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Affectionate in private, yes. He doesn’t mind it if you’re all over him, and truthfully, has his moments where he’s shamelessly all over you, too. Especially in the morning, he’s a cuddle bug.

Kisses are always good, he would never oppose them. He’s quite easy to persuade with kisses, actually. And most physical touches; he doesn’t get them often, so he kind of melts when he does. 

Cuddles, too. Again, all of this is private and in the comfort of your own home. His favorite way to cuddle is to either have you completely on top of him, or to lay his head in your lap. Because he loves the feeling of you playing with his hair.

Yearning — How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Levi will take part in things you like or things you’ve claimed in your shared space.

For example, he might find himself eating your favorite foods more often, sitting on the spot on the couch your sit in most often, rolling over to your side of the bed in his sleep.

He also likes to look back on pictures of the two of you. He doesn’t particularly like to be photographed, but he likes having these physical memories of your relationship, so he’ll indulge you when you want to take a picture together. And they come in real handy during times like this.

Zeal — Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Levi will definitely put up a fight for you, so long as it’s mutual. He wouldn’t pour his effort into someone or a relationship in which he feels like he’s not receiving the same.

I’m not sure what great lengths there would be to go to in a modern au, but he definitely believes that relationships are hard work, and as such, is prepared to put in the work when things get hard. He’s not a quitter, and he knows that love is foundation and requires time and energy.

He cares about you too much to let you go without reason.

[byuntrash101]

Cry me a Fucking River

Pairing: Baekhyun x You

Genre: angst 💀(i tried), smut 🖤

Tags: plot, back story, psychological and physical violence, Ex!AU, AbusiveRelationship!AU, “make up” sex, crying, alcohol, breeding kink (i guess?), VERY angsty, bitter sweet ending. Don't read if you are triggered by these topics

Raiting: 18+

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Even if it’s a lie you love the way he looks at you when he says “I love you”.

A/N: It’s sooo difficult for me to write angst. I really tried hard 🥲... But IM really inspired me with the song. Even the tittle comes from IM's neck tattoo in the MV... I’ve been working on this one shot ever since it came out (aka a long time ago) please tell me if i did justice to this beautiful song ^^

General Masterlist

Inspired by IM Changkyun’s “God damn”

𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓲𝓽, 𝓘 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽

𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 '𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓘'𝓶 𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭, 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓱

𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷' 𝔂𝓸𝓾

𝓖𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓮 𝓪 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓲𝓽, 𝓘 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽

𝓘'𝓶 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝓖𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

𝓘 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾,

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓴

                                                 Received 4m ago

                                               Baekhyun: I miss u...

                                                                    ✓ Read

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯�� 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯...

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶...

𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯

You sigh staring at the ceiling of your room. Your roommates are down stairs playing an alcohol game but you sit here alone. You don’t feel like having fun tonight… You don’t feel like anything at all actually.

You lift your phone up and stare at the name on the screen. Baekhyun… Baekhyun is your ex boyfriend. You have been separated for a year now. After 3 years of the most toxic and damaging relationship you ever had you finally broke up. 

You told everybody he was bad for you.

You told your friends how possessive he was, how would go through your phone, or force you to use the speakerphone every time you have a call. Or how controlling he was when he didn’t want you to wear make up or even earrings…

And you’re not lying, all of it was true, down to the littlest detail and that’s what you told yourself too. But the truth was that you were hiding half of the story. Because no matter how much you tried to persuade yourself… you were just as bad to him.

You kept quiet on the silent treatments, spending days even weeks ignoring him, just for the sake of hurting him.

You kept quiet on the numerous ways you were always blaming him for all the problems you ever had. You never took the time to listen to him, you just always assumed it was his fault for everything. If you guys fought so much it was his fault, if he was sad, it was his fault. No matter how many hurtful words you spat his way it was his fault for being weak and not being able to bear the truth.

You kept silent on the way you always tried to make him jealous by letting other guys go after you or by simply letting people believe that you were available.

Always manipulating him in feeling sorry for himself, the exact same way he did it to you.

Like a game

Turn by turn

You were making your lives a living hell

Just like a game

 But they were moments of peace, or if you dare to call it that way, love. Yes, in some moments you truly loved each other. In a way, only the both of you can understand.

No one could possibly get how good you felt when you were finally calming down after the storm. How his eyes would clear up. How your heart would beat for him when his lips pink pouty lips curled into an adorable boxy smile. When you laid your head on his chest and that you knew he was yours, yours only. How you knew that heart beating against your ear was beating for you. How you knew the soft warm breath fanning your cheeks was just for you. When you both apologized and made the ever empty promise of never hurting each other again. He looked at you with the most sincere eyes and he said that he loved you…

This…

This feeling… no one could understand, no one but you two.

In your own unique and fucked up way… you loved each other.

But it had to be stopped right? If it went on you would have ended up killing each other… When you love and hate someone so much at the same time it’s the only way out…

And so you broke with him for good when after another fight you… You have absolutely no trouble recalling the taste of blood in your mouth, the pain in your scratched out throat, the screams of your ex-boyfriend, the sinking void in your chest…

You remember everything, every single detail.

How his voice shattered your eardrums, the noise of your nose breaking, the blood gushing out his brow bone, dripping in his eye.

That night was the last one.

 You can’t help but to think about that when you look at the message on your phone. It’s been a year, the memories of the damage you’ve done and the pain you endured is still fresh… But so is this feeling of warm happiness bubbling in your stomach… and so is this feeling you want to call love…

***

“Hey” Baekhyun simply says when he opens the front door of his apartment. He invites you in and you try to avoid his eyes.

“The living room is right there he points to the end of the hall” you nod, eyes still on the floor as you walk to the designated room. You sit yourself on the couch and Baekhyun sits right in front of you in a single seat. The only light source is a desk lamp set on the end table to your right. The room is small but cosy it has the familiar smell of cold cigarette that you came to love.

“The apartment is nice” you finally say after a long moment of silence. Baekhyun chuckles.

“Yeah… it’s kinda nice living on my own now… You know without the roommate” You are still looking around the room even though you already looked at the details of the curtains 3 times. “The only downside is that you can’t blame someone else for the dishes piling up in the sink” He laughs, with that clear, open mouth laugh that you used to know. A sound you thought you would never hear again. You don’t know why but that makes you look at him.

The second you lay eyes on him your heart sinks. His dark brown eyes forming little crescents, his pouty lips curled up in an amused smile, his moles sitting on the side of his face. After that long , you would have thought that you had forgotten such details about him but you didn’t.

His smile faded when he noticed how long you stared. You locked eyes with him and somehow it felt different… Somehow you felt like you were going to be alright… Somehow you felt at home…

“You want something to drink?” he asked, blinking twice and shaking his head, breaking the intense eye contact.

“Yeah… Vodka please” you quietly answered smiling back.

At once he disappeared into the kitchen. The room was completely silent and you were able to hear your heart. It was beating hard but not fast. You didn’t feel nervous at all for some reason.

When Baekhyun came back with two glasses of the clear liquid and a beaming smile he sat next to you on the couch. Because frankly, it was what felt the most natural. His thighs pressed against yours.

You brought your glass to your lips to have a sip.

You thought that it would have been awkward that you wouldn’t know what to say but… The truth was that you didn’t need to say anything. You already spent hours speaking already. It was like you already said all the words in the world. And no words could ever make it right anyway. What was done was done and reality can’t be sugar coated anymore.

“Listen, y/n I-“

“No” you lifted your hand. “Don’t”

You didn’t want to hear them again. You knew them by heart the fake excuses and the empty promises. You didn’t come for that. You came to remember what was good.

You leaned in and closed your eyes and Baekhyun did too. When your lips link, sparks of electricity shoot between you, shivers run down your spine, making the hairs on your nape stand. Just a simple peck before he parted from you. Immediately your lips missed the warmth of his.

Baekhyun brought his hand to press your thigh. His cold slender fingers caressing your skin though your distressed jeans. You’re startled when you feel a warm tear roll down on your cheek. You repress a sob when you finally understand what it is… Then you notice a scar above his eyebrow and flashes of the last fight come rushing to you… You made that, you made that scar, along with the many invisible one that slowly turned him into the broken person he is. The overwhelming weight of guilt comes to crush you down.

But before you can open your mouth to say anything he crashes his trembling lips on yours. Trying so hard not to cry too. But the truth is that he missed you just as much.

His cold hands slip under your hoodie and roam your heated skin while yours unbutton his shirt. You can’t believe the same hands that are right now so delicately caressing your skin are the same that were lifted hit you so many times.

You can’t believe the soft lips kissing you so sweetly are the same ones that parted to insult you so many times.

You press your eyes closed shut, trying to chase away the memories of blood gushing out and shattered screams. You let your fingers entangle in his shiny silver hair. While he unbuckles you belt and pulls down your pants. Right after you help him out of his own clothes.

You lay down on the couch and he lays right over you, gently kissing your neck as you gasp at each one.

When he pulls away to look at you, his eyes translate a thousand emotions. Guilt, sadness, remorse and maybe, just maybe, even love. Or maybe you only want to see that in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?” he says his own eyes brimming with tears.

“Yeah” you breathe out.

Yes you want to forget about the bad things, about the pain and hatred, about the screams and the blood. You want to escape the truth one last time. You want to tell yourself that underneath all of this was true love. And you want to believe it’s still there even though it’s untrue. Even though you’re lying again…

Just then, like he senses your need to turn your face away from the truth, your need for fiction he crashes his lips onto yours, pulling you into a rough and harsh kiss. His teeth grazing over your lips. 

His length plunges inside your sopping center and his warmth pulls a small gasp from your lips. Finally reunited at last. 

He seizes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. Both of your body match up a coordinated and pleasurable rythme. His rough and hungry hands convey how much he missed you and even after all this time, he still knows you by heart… Of course he does… and you do too because the truth is that… You and him… You could never forget each other. Forever damned to be together, forever cursed to be apart.

The pleasant and familiar feeling of his hands, his lips and his manhood kissing your deepest part ignites a fire inside you. You pull both of your bodies up. You make him sit up and you straddle his lap.

But the truth is just right here, whispering in your ear…

 “You’re just fucking whore” his distant voice yells form the back of your head

You want to forget

Your hands roughly pull on his hair as he thrusts up inside you, making you moan his name in a shaky whisper. He whimpers into the deep and messy kiss. Your hands run on his warm skin, desperate to find under your finger the soft sensation you used to know.

 The sound of shattered glass on the floor

You want to forget

Your hips swivel around on him. You push your center against his hard cock, making him moan against the skin of your neck. Both if your warm bodies pressed together are reminded of each other.

 Soft sobs, lying on the cold tiles of the bathroom

You want to forget

He nibbles on your collar bones while you throw your head back giving him unrestricted access to you. His swift hands contour you and harshly grip your waist to pull you up and push you down on him, walls clenching around him while you feel him twitch in pleasure. Baekhyun dives in on your chest, taking one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth.

 The smudge makeup, the cold nights, the reek of alcohol, the screams, the sound of his hands leaving blue marks on your face, the horrors you said, the horrors he did… everything… everything…

You want to forget everything

 “Aaaah… Baekhyun” you whisper, trying to cover the overwhelming rumor of your own memories.

“Fuck y/n” He breaths against your skin while you lower your hips on him.

It feels so good. He feels so good. You close your eyes, making sure to enjoy the moment while for a brief instant you didn’t feel miserable.

“Fuck Baekhyun… Aaaah'' you moan again, feeling your core throb around Baekhyun’s length while his comforting grunts fill the air between you. 

“That's it baby” he purrs in your ears, hands roaming your body and lightly teasing your hard nipples. “Moan my name”

“Baekhyunnn” you cry out, feeling your release coming dangerously close as you rock your hips on him. 

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he moans “You’re gonna make me cum” He says pushing his hip up fucking you back while you both sync up, fucking each other and at a beatiful matching pace.

“Say you love me” you plead, desperately wanting to believe him.

“I love you. I love you y/n” his hoarse voice whistles in your ear.

“I love you too” 

“Let's make that kid. Let's have that child we always dreamed about” he moans, nails digging into your bare thighs

“Okay” you whisper in a short breath, giving up, desperately wanting to believe this child will save the both of you.

“Take my cum baby.” His breath is short, struggling on every word. “Get pregnant... aghh” he grunts as he finally cums.

You feel him let go, huge amounts of thick cum rush inside of you, filling you up to the brink, reaching the deepest part of you, where life can possibly sprout.

You throw your head back, toes curled up and eyes rolled back as you bite hard on your bottom lip, fully enjoying the delicious full sensation spreading to your body as your heat uncontrollable twitches in a powerful orgasm. 

You moan out his name like a prayer, like a religious mantra. A final vain attempt to make you both right for each other at last.

He crashes his lips onto your, trying to chase away your doubts while you throb around his cock.

“Cum for me baby” he whispers as you slowly ride your high, drunk on the unbearable pleasure he pumped inside you.

Once you both get down he looks at you eyes filled with something you can’t quite describe, something you’ve never seen before… Maybe hope.

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too”

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, hiding the tears rolling on your cheeks. 

Even if it has to end in despair and sorrow, if it’s with him then you are willing to give it a pointless try once again. Because even if it’s a lie you love the way he looks at you when he says these three simple words.

General Masterlist 

Tag list:  @lovebuginlove @calamell @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @nana-banana @mingiandbaconjam @chanyeolscoon (if you don't like angst i'm sorry for tagging you 😭)

A/N: There we go! Please tell me if I honored IM’s amazing song. I listened to it around 5000 times. So guys... can I write angst or not? I don't really know if I like it 🤔

[i-cant-sing]

Omg part 2 for yan light please? Your writing is so on charater for him and yan L was also really good as well

Yandere Light Yagami Pt 2:

Pt 1 can be found here!

Thanks to everyone for requesting pt 1! Enjoy! :)

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Light Yagami:

You didn't know you could be this compliant. You didn't. But Light did.

As you both layed in bed, naked, Light holding you to his chest, rubbing soothing circles on your belly, you both had different train of thoughts that were ultimately going to reach the same station. You were thinking about how you had become so... docile? Had you been in confinement for too long? Was Stockholm syndrome kicking in? Was it because of the guilt of not being able to stop him? Or was it because Light killed everyone you cared about?

You had tried to play his psychological games. But you lost. You had managed to get a hold of the Deathnote, and you were going to write his name in but he caught you and broke your fingers. You then tried to play along; you came up with a good system for who to kill. You would do extensive research on each person, serving both purposes: to see if the person truly deserved death and to slow Light down. But you later found out that your efforts didn't matter. He was killing people on a whim and he was having someone else do it for him. Misa Amane. She was quite famous. And pretty too. You didn't know why Light would use you for intimacy, both in and out of bed, when he already had a willing participant.

For every mistake you made, no matter how little, Light would punish you by killing people you were even remotely associated with. Your family, friends, everyone was dead. And judging by the content look on his face, L was going to die soon too. Hopelessness. Maybe that's why you have become like this.

"I love you." Light said, pressing a kiss to your temple as he snuggled you more. "You're so beautiful like this." You really were, in his eyes. Now that you don't fight him anymore, now that you understood that you belong to him, you're beautiful. Light liked you being so... submissive. But more than that, he loved the look of complete defeat in your eyes, the realisation that you only have him in this world now. No ones going to come for you. No one could; only he and Misa knew about you.

"What's next?"you managed to ask him. Whats next on his list of impending doom? He hummed, before replying, "Well, soon all obstacles in my way are going to be removed. Once that happens, I'll become the ruler of the world. And then, I'll get rid of all the filth in this world." You closed your eyes, asking "how? Do you have a new system of justice in mind?" Light gripped your chin, turning your head towards him. "I am the system, (Y/n). I am justice." You saw that crazy look in his eyes. You sighed, turning away from him, but Light suddenly flipped you over, straddling your waist as he leaned down. His hair tickling your face as he looked at you with possessiveness. "Dont look so gloomy, darling. I know you feel lonely when I'm not here, but soon you'll have a baby to keep you company." He said before kissing you passionately, biting your lips hard before getting off of you. "For now, Misa will keep you entertained." He chuckled before putting the cuff back on your ankle, and left the room.

Misa. When you first met her, you knew she didn't like you. She thought that you were trying to steal Light from him, that you were actually in love with him. She tried to attack you at first, but Light had pulled her out of the room and told her that he actually loved her and that you were just a part of the plan, a temporary plaything. And so Misa put up with you. Light would usually put her in charge of you; he had caught you trying to stab yourself with a nail filer after he had slept with you the first time. And now that you were carrying his child, he had to make sure you wouldn't do anything like that again.

Misa came in a few hours later, locking the door behind her like usual. "Hey, (Y/n)!"she chirped, as she skipped towards you. "I brought some stuff for you!"she told you as she dangled big shopping bag. "Hi, Misa. Whats in that?"you asked her, your voice monotonous. She put the bag down and started to uncuff your ankle. "You'll see! But first, let's take a bath." She helped you clean up yourself and the room. Once she was done, she sat you down on the bed and gave you the bag. You opened the bag to find clothes in it. Maternity clothes. You had barely started to show. You were a bit glad that you hadn’t started showing, because anything associated with the baby would make you remember the events that caused it. When you first realised that you were pregnant, you tried everything you could to get rid of it. You didn't want to give him another thing to hold over your head. But once Light found out, he became even worse somehow. He was glad he was having a child; and now he had to do everything to make the world fit for his offspring. He started handing out harsher deaths, killing off people who rubbed him off the wrong way. To you, he stopped being physically violent. But he did become more possessive of you. He wanted to know what you were doing, why you were doing it. He wanted to know if you had fallen in love with him; if you had finally decided to become his lapdog.

When Misa came to know about your pregnancy, she was angry. Not at Light, but at you. But Light manipulated her again. He told her that he didn't want her to have a kid because her body would get messed up. And he needed her as his right hand, and being pregnant would get in the way of that. Once the baby was here, they would raise it together, as if you were a surrogate. Misa bought it.

You knew Misa wasn't stupid. She was actually quite intelligent. You actually enjoyed her company. After Light would do his number on you, it would be Misa who would come to pick up the pieces. She would be the one to wipe your tears away and bandage you up.

You had tried to convince her to let you go, tried to even fight her. But she was too observant. She predicted your moves. She always knew when you were planning something. She saw right through you.

You thanked Misa for the maternity clothes. She had ordered you guys some food, your favourite. As you began eating, Misa looked at your belly, with adoration and envy? "Penny for your thoughts?"your voice brought her of her trance. "Oh! It's nothing. Just thinking about how much Light would love the baby. I cant wait for it to come!" She smiled. You looked at her, shaking your head. "He won't." "What?" "He won't love the baby, Misa. He isn't capable of that."you told her. She smiled, "You're wrong. He does love. He loves me! He loves you too, I know. But he loves me more! And he'll love the baby as well!"

You finished up your food, "Light doesn't love us Misa. Not you, me or this baby. If he did, why would he beat you? I've seen the bruises on your arms, don't try denying. You know that he's just using you to achieve his goals. And I'm just a rag doll for him. You deserve better than him. You don’t deserve the resentment Light gives you when all you do is love him. Once he's tired of us, he'll get rid of us too. He’s hurt both of us. He's hurting both of us." You held her hand, looking her dead in the eyes. "And love isn't supposed to hurt Misa." She looked at you with an indescribable emotion in her eyes, whatever fantasy of Light she had, was cracking. "Whatever. Its not like I've got through to you before anyways-" you were cut off by Misa, her soft lips crashing with yours.

You tried to push her off, but she wouldn't budge. You heard the door open and suddenly she was ripped off of you. It was Light. He dragged Misa to the corner of the room and started thrashing her. "WHAT THE FUCK MISA?! I TOLD YOU TO LOOK AFTER HER! NOT FUCK HER!" Misa starts stammering, "Light, baby. Its not what you think-" She was cut off by Light slapping her. "Oh its not?! You were fucking sticking your tongue down her throat!" "No, it was just an accide-" He slapped her again, causing her to cry. "SHUT UP! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRUSTED YOU! SHE'S MINE! MINE!" Light started choking her, not realising in his screaming fit that he'd left the door wide open for you.

This was it. The perfect distraction. Your moment to escape has finally come. But you couldn't move. Not when your eyes were fixed on Misa.

You were almost a carbon copy of Light when it came to intelligence. But you still weren't able to escape him all these months. Because Light was able to control you because of a single flaw of yours. You cared. You cared about people you didn't even know, but you still cared.

If I leave now, she will die. And with that thought, you lunged towards Light, pulling at his arms trying to get him off. "Light! Stop it! Its not her fault!" Suddenly, you were pushed to the ground. Light started punching you. "Oh I know its not her fault! ITS YOURS! YOU DECIDED TO WHORE YOURSELF TO HER SO YOU COULD GET OUT OF HERE, RIGHT?! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT. YOU. BELONG. TO. ME!?!"He yelled between punches.

Misa looked at you from behind Light's shoulder. She quickly got up and tried to stop him. Pulling at his arm, she yelled again "Light! Stop! You'll kill her and the baby!" But he didn't stop, only replying "She's gone through worse! And if the baby's that weak, then it doesn't deserve to survive!" And just like that, Misa realised you were right. Whatever dream she had of Light and her was gone. She slowly backed away from Light.

Light was still punching you, even though you had lost consciousness long ago. Suddenly, Light started choking up. He got off you, not understanding what was happening to him. He turned to look for Misa, asking her to help him. But as she stood there, with the Deathnote in her hands, he realised what had happened. Misa had written his name. "M-Misa!?" She just stood there, her eyes glazed. Or had she finally woken up? "Love isn't supposed to hurt, Light And you've hurt us. A lot. Now perish."

Once Light had stopped breathing, she rushed towards you. She checked for your pulse. You were still alive. Misa pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "It'll be okay, (Y/n). We'll be okay. I'll fix everything."

You all got part 2, I got the ending I wanted. Everybody wins.

Now if someone here knows how to study biochem or do witchcraft, hmu cause I dont wanna fail exams. Speaking of which, Ill be less active here, so if you do send in requests, keep them short. Or better yet, send in questions. I’ll be happy to answer them. :)

[flowerpoweranthem]

It’s all about fxcking - Dr. JMK (smut)

josh/fem reader

word count: 2000

summary: You decide to give spiritual psychology a try and get more than you bargained for

You saw a pamphlet at your local crystal shop that caught your eye. That’s how you ended up standing in front of the office of Dr. JMK, a spiritual psychologist. You weren’t sure if you would actually follow through, but you were always open to trying new things. You take one last deep breath, open the door, and step inside.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell of incense burning, which seems to be some mix of patchouli and sandalwood. When you take a look around you notice ambient lighting, lots of colorful tapestries, and plenty of crystals. You’re still unsure but the environment immediately helps you relax a bit.

You jump slightly when someone enters from a hallway to your left. You let out a small laugh but instantly stop when you let your eyes focus on the man in front of you. He is dressed in all white, with a head full of soft curls. He has soulful brown eyes, highlighted by his glasses. “Hi, I'm here to see Dr. JMK.” You stutter a bit, which makes your face flush. Immediately the man smiles, and it’s so stunning that your face burns even brighter. “That’s me” he replies, as he motions you to follow him.

You follow him down the hallway and into another room straight ahead. This room has a similar vibe as the previous one, the only difference being the addition of a couch and a few chairs. Dr. JMK asks you to take a seat, and you happily oblige. “Have you ever been to a spiritual psychologist before?” he asks. You shake your head no. He smirks and quickly replies, “Use your words, don’t be afraid to speak freely here.” You find him intimidating but you're interested to see where this goes. “I have never been to a spiritual psychologist, no.” He smiles and nods, then stands and walks over to a stereo in the corner of the room. He begins to play soft ambient music, and looks over his shoulder at you with a devious smirk on his face.

“Spirituality is all about opening up your mind, but it’s also about physically connecting to the world around you” He says. “If you ever get uncomfortable during this session, please let me know. The emotions you feel may be overwhelming.”

At this point he walks over to the couch you are sitting on and lowers himself beside you. He reaches over to a small table beside the couch and lights an incense. He looks you dead in the eyes, before slowly bringing it to his soft lips and taking a slow drag. After a few seconds, he puts it aside while exhaling into your face. You’re trying to stay professional, but you can’t keep your eyes from drifting to his mouth.

“For the first part of the session, I am going to ask you to close your eyes. I am then going to touch you, and I want you to tell me what you’re feeling.”

You immediately shut your eyes, you’re just so enamored with this man and eager to please him. He begins by brushing his fingers up the length of your arms, and immediately goosebumps rise. His touch feels like fire on your skin and awakens something deep within you. As he moves upward, he gently runs his fingers along the side of your neck. You let out a little moan of satisfaction, and you hear him slightly laugh under his breath.

“Remember what I said sweetheart, I need you to use your words.” His voice has a slight rasp to it that makes your insides flutter.

You manage to get the words out, although they come out low and unsure… “That feels really good Dr.”

“Josh, just call me Josh.” he quickly replies.

At this point, he asks you to open your eyes. When you do, his face is a mere inches away from yours. The eye contact is so intense that you have to lower them, which you realize is a mistake when you see him bite his lower lip. Before you realize what you’re doing, your lips are crashing into his.

You feel him smile against your lips, before he grabs your neck and pulls you in closer. Immediately you’re on fire, as the kiss turns more passionate and you both allow your hands to wander. His hands are all over you, slightly pulling your hair while the other digs into your thigh. You begin to let out quiet little moans and you're eager to get closer to him.

He pulls away from you and asks, “would you like to do something for me?”

You instantly nod, and he guides you from your spot on the couch onto your knees in front of him. You easily understand what he is asking for, and while your nervous hands fumble while unbuttoning pants you see him reach to the same small table as earlier and grab a joint.

You slide his pants down past his hips, as he places the joint in his mouth and proceeds to light it. You allow yourself to look him over, noticing how hard he is. You work up the courage to grab his boxers and pull them down as well, and you take his cock in your hands. You lick from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth. You slowly work your way up and down, while skillfully swirling your tongue. Josh uses one hand to carefully hold back your hair, and you notice when he throws his head back a bit. Josh takes a long pull from the joint, then guides you off of his dick. He then slowly leans forward while cupping your face. You instinctively open your mouth. His lips brush your own, as he blows the smoke into your mouth. You inhale and then exhale, all while never breaking eye contact. Josh smirks at you. “You’re such a good girl.”

It takes everything in you not to let out a sound once you hear those words come out of his mouth. At this point he helps you off your knees and brings you up next to him on the couch. He grips the edge of your shirt, and slowly pulls it over your head. Your pulse begins to quicken as he places his lips against your shoulder, and begins to plant soft kisses against your skin. While he slowly trails his mouth down your body, his hands reach around to undo your bra. Easily undoing the clasp, he pulls the straps off your shoulders and down your arms before throwing it to the far corner of the room.

You begin to get nervous, as you are now exposed from the hips up. Josh quickly eases your nerves when you notice the lust in his eyes as he slowly rakes them over you. At this point he helps you lie back against the couch, as his mouth begins to explore your skin again. He takes one of your breasts in his hand while his mouth hovers over the other. He takes you into his mouth, swirling his tongue while his hand explores elsewhere. You let out a gasp, at this point you’re in desperate need of some kind of relief. Thankfully, he proceeds to trail his mouth downwards before stopping at the top of your pants. He sits back as his fingers quickly undo the button and you eagerly lift your hips for him.

Josh slowly removes the last bit of clothing from your body before placing them on the floor, he then looks up and says, “you’re not allowed to finish until I give you permission, do you think you can do that for me baby?”

You quickly nod your head, eager to have his mouth on you again.

He slowly hooks one of your legs on his shoulder while firmly pinning the other against the couch. Starting just above your knee, he plants sensual kisses along the inside of your leg. Desperate to finally feel him where you need him the most, you let out a moan. He smiles against the inside of your thigh before softly biting it. You feel a brief spark of pain, followed by another kiss to ease it away. Josh then places his mouth where you needed it the most, and slowly begins to move his tongue. The relief is instant and you let out the breath you had been holding for a while now. You instinctively grab his head to pull him closer, but immediately realize you’ve made a mistake.

Josh pulls away while slowly shaking his head. “Seems to me like you need to work on your self control, sweetheart. Same rules apply, you do not get to cum until I say you can… but I want you to sit on my face instead.”

Your jaw drops slightly, but you want him so badly that you don’t try to protest. While he lies back against the couch, you sit up and proceed to situate yourself above him. His hands grab your ass, and you lower yourself onto his mouth. He immediately begins to swirl his tongue, while you start to move back and forth. The sensation of his tongue against you is so intense, a slew of profanities begin to trickle from your mouth. As you begin to ride his face more intensely, his perfectly shaped nose presses against your clit adding to the sensation. This causes you to moan even louder, and you can feel your orgasm build within you. Josh moans against you, and you almost finish from that alone. He notices that you’re losing control and takes a moment to remind you of the rules. “You haven’t been given permission to cum yet, but I might allow it if you beg.”

He pulls you back against his mouth, guiding your hips against him at an unrelenting pace. You begin to beg, desperately seeking release from all the teasing he has done so far. “Please Josh, please let me cum.” You look down to see him glance up at you through his eyelashes, and he begins to nod his head with a devilish gleam in his eyes. Taking this as confirmation, you allow yourself to no longer hold back. Within seconds, your legs begin to shake and you hear and feel him mutter “come for me.” That is all it took for you to completely unravel, letting out desperate and weak moans.

As you come down from your high, you bring yourself off of him and onto the couch. Once Josh is sitting next to you again, you look over at him. “Fuck me,” you plead.

He answers back with a smile, and flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees. Before you can even prepare, he slips into you. After so much teasing and anticipation, you let out a needy and frantic whine. It feels better than you could have ever imagined. He instantly grabs your hips and begins to slowly move in and out of you. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You can tell he is beginning to become needy because he removes his hands from your hips and grabs two fistfulls of your hair. He begins to drive into you with increasing intensity and speed, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you bite into the pillow in front of you. You begin to rock back into him, and he leans forward and gently bites down on your shoulder, stifling his own quiet moans. You know he is close to the edge when his breathing starts to shudder, so you say, “cum for me.” Hearing this, he begins to drive his hips into you at an even higher speed and intensity, and his perfect rhythm begins to get sloppy. He releases your hair, grabbing onto your hips again and begins to moan out a string of profanities. The feeling of him finishing inside of you sends you over the edge once again, and you both ride out your highs together.

Once you have both gathered yourselves, you help each other get dressed. Josh walks you from the back room to the front lobby and stops in front of the door. He looks at you once more with a smirk on his face. “You were such a good girl for me, but I think we are going to have to schedule another session soon.”

With that he places a soft kiss on your cheek and you turn to leave.

While exiting the building you think to yourself, “I still don’t know what spiritual psychology is, all I know is I really fucking like it.”

[handemiyyy]

Nothing is black and white. Not even the things we judge to be the simplest such as a “are you a night owl or an early bird?” question. For every answer, for every action, behind it lies a very complex reason for why you picked a determined answer. In life, it’s the same. Things are multicolored, multifaceted and depending of a handful of factors combined that will impulse someone to take a certain action or opt for a certain answer. It really has put me into a lot of thinking when I found out the plot regarding Sen Çal Kapımı’s season 2, and seeing so many people start to take sides of such complex and delicate situation made me wonder that maybe people were not seeing the full picture, maybe they were seeing a plain image instead of the 3D situation presented to them.

If you know the characters’ story, you understand both Eda and Serkan’s actions are totally characteristic of them and correct in their own way. I’ll assume if you’re reading this you have knowledge of that, so I shall skip to the present situation and plot: Eda and Serkan broke up and stayed 5 years apart, but this turn in their love story has a bittersweet exception. Their child, Kiraz. Which Serkan does not know of.

EDA

Eda was asked to leave. After standing by his side through his cancer and thinking she’d finally live the life she dreamed with the love of her life, he broke up with her. They fought a lot, he let it explicit he’d never have a family, he closed himself to the world, to Eda, he resetted back to the robot-mode workaholic burying himself in projects that he forgot life. The life he had with Eda. His behavior affected her as well, that closed off too, and although they were together, they kept distancing from each other every day a little more. Until they saw that there was no point in that relationship. Eda shows that after 5 years his words and cold behaviour towards her still hurts her deeply, even making the analogy that she’s “just a toy” for him (ep 2 in the conversation scene with Burak). From her perspective, he decided to throw their years and relationship in the trash because he was the heartless insensitive man he was when they first met. Imagine you invest so much of yourself to someone just for this person to turn to you and tell you he doesn’t want to hear from you, or have you near. You’d be hurt. Especially after all you’ve been put through to be by his side and live your love freely. It was beyond plausible for her to leave and not look back (okay, Aydan?) and whoever had close insight of their relationship and how it deteriorated would agree with that. There’s only so much a person can handle. It was time Eda put herself first, especially when she was carrying a baby that Serkan supposedly wouldn’t want. She feared rejection, not just for her but for their baby, an innocent unborn child, a consequence of their love that was not the same anymore. He had said in her face that he didn’t want children, so she acted out of protectiveness for herself and her child. She couldn’t bare him rejecting the child. Maybe he would have changed his mind when she told him that she was pregnant, but she couldn’t have known that. Serkan turned into someone that was unrecognizable, even for Eda. He wasn’t just the cold workaholic we’ve seen in the beginning of the dizi, he was a cold-traumatized workaholic. So she escorted herself out of that relationship and did not think twice to come back around and tell him about the pregnancy when she found out in Italy. It was basically the logic that if he didn’t want her, why would he want her baby?

SERKAN

Serkan had to endure so much. After all the little things that consumed their relationship, after the plane crash, memory loss, he found out he had cancer. There is no way a person would stay the same after going through such awful disease. Serkan’s fear spoke louder than anything else, because he’s always been the kind of person to stay miserable and let her go so she doesn’t deal with the burden of being with him. Serkan’s hypochondria spoke louder telling him he was cured but not safe from cancer, and he couldn’t bare going through or putting Eda through that again. Even worse, leave her widowed. Probably the reason he kept postponing their wedding. During treatment he was still vulnerable, having Eda’s support all the way, trying to stay sane with all the mood changes and occasional insensitive behaviour towards her and everybody else. It cannot be put in words by a person that fortunately never had to go through or witness a person with cancer, but all of his “inconsistency” is more than justified. He never did it on purpose, it was the collateral effects of his disease, psychologically and physically speaking. After beating cancer, things seemed to have a bright future until it hadn’t. Serkan’s self sabotage knocked him down again, making him reset back to his old ways, except this time he had much more baggage and traumas than before. He shut everybody out, even the only person that he let in, and drowned in work, obsessed with “becoming immortal” through his projects. He forgot life, he forgot the love of his life. Not because he wanted to, but because his unconscious wanted to protect himself, and her. What if cancer came back? He knew very much of diseases as a person so worried about his health, he knew there were chances that it would come back. He’s gone through it once and barely survived, he’s seen the state he’s put him and Eda’s relationship through, he felt like a burden more than ever before. He didn’t want to hold her back, he didn’t want to have her stuck with him, taking care of his ill self that wasn’t even sure would make through the cancer treatment. He always felt unworthy of her, imagine now. He didn’t want children, because he feared they’d become fatherless. He didn’t want to set a wedding date, because he feared he’d leave his wife a widow. Or not make her happy. And he knew they weren’t happy. Because once he digged back down on his workaholic hole, he didn’t come back up again. It was stronger than him, he kept pushing her away and burying himself deeper. And she closed off just like him, so they both closed off in their own lonely cocoon and started to slowly become strangers again. Until one day he asked her to leave, and she didn’t see a reason to stay.

—

He told her to leave, he told her to stay far away from him because he wanted to protect her, and most selfishly, himself from more potential pain, suffering and heartbreak. He thought it’d be the less hurtful way (just like the plot of the secret about Eda’s parents accident), except he just made it worse for her. It doesn’t mean he’s a monster, a heartless human or an ungrateful bastard as many people are portraying him to be. It makes him human, it makes him a human with fears and insecurities, too aware of his own mortality and how it would affect the people that were dearest to him. Because when you’re sick, not only you go through stuff, the people around you, the people that loves and cares for you also goes through it all with you, to the point it can affect them personally too. He never came around and explained his reasons, because when he closed off his feelings were shut off. He bottled it all up and never said a thing, leaving Eda thinking the absolute worst of him and that still reflects in her hesitance about him 5 years later with an apparent normal Serkan back in her life. Serkan, now fully recovered and back to being himself, finds Eda again and everything he’s been trying to keep hidden, all the suppressed feelings and unfinished business he’s had with her, came back banging. He can’t let her go, he said it himself at that night talk. He can’t because he still needs to say a lot to her, to apologize to her even though it was NOT his fault. NEVER his fault. Nor hers, for leaving.

Serkan beat cancer years ago, but he never went looking for her. We’ve seen enough of their story and Serkan’s fears to know that he’s always felt that he wasn’t enough for her and that he’s brought to her life only pain, so it’s totally understandable why he never reached to her when he was sane again. He wanted her to be happy and free and she would only be able to do that if she was far away from him. And of course, Eda being hurt wouldn’t want to come back, wouldn’t want to keep in touch with him, so she cut ties entirely. She was on her right to not come to him when she found out about the pregnancy, because she knew he still wasn’t him. He was barely fighting for himself, living for himself, caring for himself, how would he do that for a child? But then he comes back… now what? Eda wants to run away from him, afraid he’d hurt her the way he did before. But he’s not that post-cancer Serkan, he still has the scars and the trauma but you can clearly see that he’s back to being the old Robot Bolat. He’s still closed off, but the initial scare and fear of abandonment disappeared with the passing years of him being healthy again. He sees Eda and he wants to be around her again, because he never truly wanted to part ways with her. Eda hides a secret, a secret she’s not right nor wrong to hide, she just figured it was best. And even in the first moments of him being around, it’s understandable that she wanted to hide the fact she has a child to him, as it may be a huge shock and turn of events. She doesn’t trust him, more precisely his reaction, and she’s unsure of what to expect. She needs him to give her a proof that he’s not the same unstable Serkan she witnessed before she left. She needs him to open up, he needs to open up to her. That is just it, the reason none of them could ever move forward, apart of their ever growing and intense love for each other. They still have a lot that was not talked, that was not finished, they didn’t solve their issues, therefore they didn’t heal.

Tell me how can you blame a mother for choosing her child over any possible heartbreak? How can you blame a woman for walking away after being so emotionally drained and not being able to put up with an exhausting relationship for BOTH of them? How can you blame her for not wanting to live that life with him when he wasn’t putting any effort on their relationship or on his fiancée? How could she guess what he was feeling, what he wanted to say, what were the reasons for his behavior if he closed off and never spoke a word?

Tell me how can you blame a traumatized man with so many complexities for closing off and pushing everybody away in order to not hurt them? How can you blame an hypochondriac man for wanting his beloved to be free from any strings attached to him and his disease because he can’t bare the fact he could possibly die and leave her suffering? How can you blame a human being that has gone through such a traumatic disease and invasive treatment as cancer that affects the whole being, physically and mentally, and transforms them into someone vulnerable and afraid? How can you blame this man for acting the way he did when he’s only done that because of all the fears he’s been accumulating since his childhood, his psychological traumas. How can it be his fault?

Serkan would die for Eda if it didn’t mean she would suffer for his loss.

Eda would be unhappy for eternity if it meant she could stay by Serkan’s side.

They would do anything for each other, and at one way or another, they did. Until their relationship deteriorated and they couldn’t keep going on, because they were losing themselves in an endless looping of traumas and pain. They were together but together they couldn’t do the healing, they were so exhausted they couldn’t heal each other nor themselves, it became unhealthy for them. But beware, it WAS NOT any of them’s fault, it qas just how they were living their lives. Their post-traumatic lives.

Sometimes there’s no right or wrong, there are just different point of views of a certain situation that’s so hard to grasp and so difficult to understand unless you’re personally living it. But trying to put yourself in their shoes also would do.

So please, yeter with the Eda AND SERKAN slander. Both were in their own right.

[aki-draws-things]

Whumptober 2021

Prompt: 02. Talking is overrated

Fandom: MCU

Ship: winterhawk

Extra: tw coma

An anon asked for some winterhawk... Well, here some.. It's not much, but I hope you might like it... 💖

Bucky knew pain, he had lived a long life, and even when his mind wasn't his anymore he knew pain. It was a constant, one he did not want, but a constant nevertheless.

He knew it from nazi's torture, he knew it from falling, from his missing arm and from the scar around the new arm, over his shoulder. He knew the pain from the Chair, from surfacing memories and repressed feelings. And he knew how to inflict pain too. Any concept of pain, Bucky was, unfortunately, aware of.

But that pain, that day, was worse than anything before.

The sky was falling, raining fire like an apocalypse from some film. Of course it wasn't literal fire, it was from some crazy spaceship of some crazy alien. He'd never get used to it. He said the same about Clint Barton and his continuous talking over the comms. It didn't take long for bucky to realize he talked through a sub-frequency, linked to Bucky's comms only. He wanted to groan, to reprimand him, tell him to concentrate on the fight, no, it wasn't a good time to ask him out, goddamn!

Clint laughed and Bucky felt his heart skip a beat. No, not in battle, stay focused.

"but if I asked another time, you'd say yes?"

"I said not now, Barton. There are aliens trying to invade us."

"Yup, darling, can see them. Just arrowed three of them. Gotta get that arrow back though, I can't risk running out, can I?"

Bucky didn't imagine him winking, why should he--- actually, could people wink with they're voice? Because that definitely sounded like Barton winked at him, and it was getting distracting.

"you still haven't answered." Clint said again. Bucky could hear fights in the background from the comms, soft yelling, and thus and--

"--shit."

What? What now?

"Barton?"

He didn't get an answer at first, he tried to ignore the dreadful feeling building up in his stomach, cold and dark. An arrow passed right next to his cheek, it barely grazed him and Bucky turned, following it and seeing how it flew through the open armor, and I'm the head of a second alien behind the first. Both of them too close to Bucky, and he didn't notice them. He thought of blaming Clint for that, him and his distracting talks, but Clint was the one who saved him so--

Something crashed behind him, it crashed loudly and without a human sound but the breaking of bones.

Bucky was aware if many types of pain, psychological and physical ones, but this one was new, and worse. He felt his own heart drop at the sight, broken limps bended unnaturally, blood pooling around the head, drenching the suit on the chest, trickling from his lips, and nose, and ears, down his chin and neck. Bucky dropped on his knees next to the body and suddenly wanted nothing more than to hear that annoying voice through his comms. Silence was-- cold. Cold like the cryo freeze hydra kept putting him into. Cold as the snow when he fell, cold as--

"hey Buck... Are those tears?" he gasped, and sobbed, looking ag the barely opened eyes. It was a miracle he was alive, but there he was, and yes. Yes, of course he was crying.

"what were you thinking? Saving me and falling down a building? Again? What's wrong with you and buildings?"

He brushed his hand over the cheek, hoping that wouldn't hurt him, where could he touch the archer without causing more pain, actually?

"eh... Not lucky." Clint stretched a smile, frowned, and squeezed his eyes when the smallest movement caused a burst of pain through his skull. His most definitely fractured skull. He slowed his breathing and bucky wasn't sure he did it on purpose, as training or if his body was just giving up. He hoped-- no, he didn't dare to hope.

"wouldn't answer me. - Clint muttered, and bucky almost burst out an answer, like that would magically make everything alright, heal him, save him. - I thought... Showing you I'm serious would work better. Actions are louder."

Your bones hitting the ground were definitely loud, bucky almost said. He didn't.

"doesn't matter..." a hand brushed bucky's cheek, wiped the tears away, some bones were still intact then... Little consolation. He grabbed the hand, held it carefully in his. "'m jus' glad you alright." he slurred, his eyes closing, laying still as bucky tried to wake him again, as he screamed and begged. As he whispered that yes, yes he would go on a date with him, but only if he could pick the place.

Only if Clint woke up again.

"Bucky..."

"no." Bucky's voice sounded almost threatening, he knew what Steve was about to say, and they were alone in the room, how easily could he jump at him and shut him up. How easily his neck could snap if he dated to say it again.

"bucky, just listen to me... You can't lock yourself here, you need to get out, sleep, have a proper meal, a bath."

Bucky growled, he pointed at the bed, with enough room for him to curl into, at the tray and empty plate on the table, Natasha came four times every day with food and coffee, and milk, and anything bucky may ask her, at the bathroom door, there wasn't a bathtub, but he always liked showers better.

Steve sighed, that approach was unbreachable, and he couldn't disagree with Bucky's answer, he indeed had everything he needed.

"buck... Look, I know, I understand."

"do you? Is your pretty lover in a coma after saving your ass? Don't think so cause he's staring at me from the door. No Stevie, you do not understand."

He wouldn't make a scene. He could, and he knew some people that would help him clean up after and ask no questions, but no, he wouldn't. He was... Better.

"it's been three months, Buck. Tony said--"

"I don't care what Stark said! I don't. You get him off of that and he--"

He stopped, froze, trembled, hands closed in tight fists that almost collided with Rogers' face. He couldn't even say it, let alone imagine what would be, what would happen.

"he's gone already."

"get out."

"Buck... You should let him go."

"Get. Out. Steve."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry Buck..."

"OUT!"

His metal hand collided with the wall and he locked the door.

"you said actions were louder than words..." bucky murmured, his fingers brushing gently over the knuckles of the hand on his lap, he ignored the woman moving quietly on the other side of the bed, checking machines and vitals, humming quietly under her breath.

"a very loud action would be waking up... That wouldn't speak, clint... That would scream. And I'd take you screaming everyday if it means being at your side."

The woman left the bed with a last check to the IV line, she put a hand on bucky's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"you're not wrong, Winter." she said smiling down at him. "talking is indeed overrated most times, but I reckon it can make a difference sometimes. Times like that. So... You know, keep talking, call him back home." she pressed a kiss to his temple before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

"heard Jen? Clint... Clint you need to come home. Come home, so I can answer you. You pick the place, you've earned it, just--please."

[brywrites]

Date Night I

I got so many requests in my inbox for a version of “Date Night” set in The Keeping of Words universe. There were so many suggestions for how that could look, but I’m really happy with this version, so I hope those of you who like TKOW enjoy it! Part 2 coming very soon!

Summary: Three years after leaving the BAU, Dr. Spencer Reid has given up chasing monsters to be a part-time professor and a full-time dad. It’s all domestic bliss - until Cat Adams turns up at the BAU.

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, references to past kidnapping and assault

.......................................

“Now, it’s rare for serial killers to go that long between murders, but years passed between the BTK attacks. How did Rader manage to go that long between murders?”

Reid’s students stared at him expectantly, a few flipping back through their notes. A girl in Georgetown hoodie raised her hand. “Well it seems like he stayed connected to what he did in like, other ways? He wrote up detailed plans for each attack so maybe he focused on that.”

“Yeah,” added a boy with round glasses and a sticker-covered laptop. “And he wrote to the police a lot with information and puzzles, so that could have given him the feeling of power he needed.”

“Good, good,” Reid said. “Those are both great points. Rader did all of that and more. The stalking, the planning, the communication with the media is all part of what we c-” His train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He gave it the briefest of glances – just Emily, likely asking for an obscure fact he could provide after the lecture – before pocketing it once more and continuing. “Sorry. Uh, so all of his behavior is what we call sublimating. Psychologically speaking, it’s the process of diverting one’s impulses or desires into a more socially acceptable activity. Forensically, it’s how unsubs curb their urges during a cooling-off period. In this case we see that…” His phone began to ring again. The name on the screen was the same.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. He made it a point not to use his phone in front of his students and to give them the same respect he asked of them while in his class. He quickly sent Prentiss a text. In lecture – call in 30? “As I was saying, in this case it’s clear that–” Before he could even return the phone to his pocket it rang again.

A sudden chill came over him. This wasn’t just about a consult. “I – uh, sorry,” he stammered. His students glanced between themselves. It wasn’t like their hyper-focused, luddite professor to take a call in the middle of lecture. Reid turned away from them as he raised the phone to his ear. “What is it?” he asked.

“Reid, I’m so sorry. We need you to come in immediately. Luke’s out front to bring you to Quantico. We have a kidnapping case and there’s one demand – that we release Cat Adams within 24 hours.” The name made every muscle in his body tense. An automatic trauma response.

“No.” The sound of her name alone sent flashbacks flickering through this memory. Glimpses of Mexico, the inside of a prison cell, his mother screaming, Bianca crying on the witness stand in a courtroom. There was no way he was letting that woman any chance to get near him or his family ever again.

“She insists she’ll only speak if she can talk to you.” This exactly why he’d left the Bureau in the first place.

“Emily, I’m retired, I’m not an agent anymore and–”

“And there are lives on the line, Spencer. I wouldn’t ask if we had any other choice.” And so he ended class early, hurried out of the lecture hall, and climbed into the waiting SUV. Luke tried to catch him up – that morning Garcia had received a video from a woman with dark hair, showing two huddled, hooded figures tied up on the floor of a warehouse. A woman and a small child. They seemed to be crying and while Garcia couldn’t make out their identity, the woman filming wasn’t trying to hide her face at all. The demand attached said they would be killed if Catherine Adams wasn’t released from prison, and Cat only wanted to talk to him. The only man she’d ever lost to.

“This doesn’t follow her typical M.O.,” Reid said. “She usually goes after men, fathers specifically. Why go after what’s likely a mother and child?” Cat was a creature of habit. Her impulsive nature was her downfall. This didn’t seem like her at all.

Luke shrugged. “You know her better than I do. I’ll have Garcia show you the footage when we get there, maybe you’ll see something we didn’t.” But as soon they arrived at the BAU, Emily ushered him off to an interrogation room. There she sat in an orange jumpsuit, staring at the one-way glass, waiting for him with a Cheshire cat grin. It made his blood boil. Reid inhaled deeply before stepping inside. He stood there staring at her in silence. He didn’t trust himself not to scream.

Cat laughed. “Classic negotiating technique. First one to speak loses, right?” The sound of her voice took him right back to that awful night – leaving Milburn, nearly losing his mother, Bianca crying in the roundtable room. Scratch and the crash and Stephen’s death and everything that had come after.

He wasn’t in the mood for her games. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should have been finishing his class and going home to pick Eliza up from pre-school. “You arranged the kidnapping of two people and you did it the same way you did it before,” he sighed. Cat immediately launched into her usual banter. She had given up fighting her case, she insisted. Now she just wanted to stave off the boredom by playing with her favorite toy. The only thing she hadn’t done, she claimed, was him.

“You sexually violated me in Mexico,” he reminded her.

“I did? Are you sure?” she asked. He gritted his teeth. “Stop being the boy who cried rape, Spencie, it’s not a good look.”

The room was too small, too warm. He couldn’t bear to be in here with her but he had to be. “I want to go a date,” she declared. “With you.”

“A date?” This was absurd. This was ridiculous. This couldn’t be happening.

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun. And I won’t even get physical, ok?” Cat rolled her eyes. “Unless you want me to.”

There was no way he was going to take Cat Adams on a date. There were only two people he’d ever been on a date with in his life (the ill-fated Redskins game and the Lila Archer incident didn’t count, he’d decided), and he had no desire to add a third to that list. Going out on a date was what he did with Bianca, because he loved her. He took her to bookstores and symphonies and New York City. He bought her flowers and watched her favorite movies and made a list of all her favorite restaurants. That was something special. Something sacred.

“The only date I’ll be there for,” he whispered to Cat, “is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

“You’re gonna let a mother and daughter die?” Cat asked. So whoever was in that video Luke mentioned, it was a mother and her child.

“I never said a mother and daughter. You’re already slipping. We’ll find them, we always do.” The team would find them and he could go home and be with the only two people he wanted to sit across a table from.

“Not tonight,” Cat laughed. “Tonight, I win.”

This was a waste of his time. “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it’ll be a clean sweep.” He turned to glare at her. “Enjoy eternal nothingness. It’s a metaphor for your life.” It was petty, he knew that, but he couldn’t resist letting the bitterness he felt rising in his throat out in some small way.

Cat snorted. “You don’t even realize you’re already losing.” Before he could ask her what she meant, the interrogation room door opened. Prentiss stood there staring at Cat with an expression of utter horror. That Cheshire cat smirk returned. Reid’s glanced between the two women whose gaze held an unspoken secret he couldn’t make sense of.

“What is it, Emily?” he asked.

“Outside,” the unit chief said.

“I did something bad, Spencie,” Cat sing-songed. His stomach dropped. He was missing something. Cat knew it. Emily knew it. And whatever it was, it was big. Emily grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the room. Cat’s laughter echoed. The blood rushed in his ears. Something was wrong.

“Spencer,” Emily began. She shut the door behind her and placed herself in front of it, blocking his way. “The unsub sent another video to Garcia. The woman removed the hoods from their faces and we’ve been able to identify the two victims in the video.” Two people. A mother and daughter. A mother and daughter. I did something bad, Spencie. You don’t even realize you’re already losing. No. No, he couldn’t go there.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. She turned over a tablet. The video showed a dusty warehouse with big windows. And even if the two people had been wearing hoods, he would’ve recognized them immediately. If Luke had been able to show him the video in the car, if they’d taken him to the roundtable room first, he would’ve known. That was her favorite cardigan and the dress he’d zipped up for her in their bedroom. And those were the tiny shoes he’d carefully tied while she sat patiently in the carseat. And now, those were the faces of the two people he loved more than anything in this life, staring back at him.

“No.” His voice cracked.

“We don’t know how she got to them, but I promise you we won’t rest until Bianca and Eliza are safe.”

“No.” In her wisdom Prentiss had blocked him from running back into that room and doing something he might regret later. Reid bit down, forcing back every curse he wanted to shout. He turned and stormed down the hall, pushing his way through the glass doors until he came upon Morgan’s empty office. He stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. It was too hot, his clothes were too tight, everything was too overwhelming and he couldn’t think straight. Fingers fumbled with the knot of his tie, only able to loosen it enough to yank it over his head. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt and shook out his arms. Stimming always helped to center him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a hand to his stomach. Breathed in and out. In and out.

She had them. Cat had them.

Reid screamed, a guttural sound that came from his throat of its own accord. He spun around and set eyes on a desk piled high with books and papers and he pushed them all off to the floor. A lamp went with them, which crashed into a water cooler that tumbled over on its side. It wasn’t enough. He screamed again, flipping a table in the center of the room and throwing a book at the wall. “FUCK!” he shouted. “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”

It was like his body didn’t know how to handle the rage. He fell to his knees and curled into himself on the floor, sobbing. This was his fault, all his fault. His only job was to keep them safe, and they were in danger now because of him.

....

Their captor lowered the video camera, smirking. “I think that’ll be a nice video to send your husband, won’t it?” Bianca grit her teeth, inhaling through her nose and willing herself to keep it together. She had to stay calm, for Eliza’s sake. Her ribs and shoulder ached, the blows the woman had landed to her jaw stung sharply. She thought distantly of the night she’d punched Spencer on accident on their anniversary, thinking him an intruder. There would be a trail of bruises left behind for days at least.

“Mama are you okay?” Eliza asked.

Her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present. Bianca nodded carefully, the movement painful. She needed to keep Elizabeth calm and keep them both alive. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He’ll be here soon, okay? He’s gonna come find us and then we’ll go home.” He would find them. He always would. No matter how far apart they were or how lost they felt, they always found each other. They saved each other, that was what they did. He made sure she ate and protected her from her family and came to find her in the woods. She helped him through grief and stayed with him through withdrawal and guarded his heart from the monsters. He would find her.

The dark-haired woman squatted down on the ground beside them. “It’s cute,” she laughed, a sharp and cold sound. “That you have so much faith in a man. Men are nothing but disappointing.”

Bianca had been let down by men in her life plenty of times. Her father, who she was never good enough for. Her brother, who held the knife against her throat. They were the reason she jumped when doors slammed and flinched when someone yelled and ran far away from her problems. But Hotch and Rossi had welcomed her like a daughter, Morgan had loved her with the playful protectiveness of an older brother, Lorenzo had been a friend when she needed one, and Spencer – Spencer was the opposite of everyone who had ever hurt her.

“What do you want from him?” Bianca asked. “Did he arrest you? Put away someone you love?” The woman – the unsub, Bianca was beginning to think of her as – just glared back. “If this is a trap, he’s not going to walk into it,” she said. “He’s too smart for that. No matter what you have planned, he’ll outsmart you. He always does.”

Her husband, the genius. He’d win. He find them.

“I don’t think he’ll outsmart us,” the unsub said. So there were two of them.

“Really? Because if he finds us, you’ll be outnumbered. Is your partner smart? Or just too cowardly to take him on?” Despite her fear she tried to maintain her best lawyer voice, imagining she was cross-examining a difficult witness on the stand rather than a kidnapper with a gun.

“Cat’s not a coward,” the woman snapped. She froze, realizing her slip.

“Cat? You’re working for Cat Adams?” She should’ve known. Who else hated Spencer more than her? The woman who’d nearly taken his wedding ring, his mother, his life. Cat was the reason he’d been gone during her pregnancy, the reason he’d been traumatized in Milburn, and drugged against his will. And Cat was the reason that her little girl was tied up in this warehouse. Feeling fury burn in her chest, Bianca forced herself to smile through the pain. “Then you’re definitely going to lose. Cat never wins. You’ll see.”

There was a smack, and Bianca could feel the slap across her face before she processed it. She winced, biting her lip to hold back a groan. “Shut up!” the unsub shouted. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She turned and stalked off, slamming the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. Bianca could hear her speaking to someone on the phone.

She leaned down close to Eliza. “Eliza Lou, listen close to me, okay?”

“Okay, mama.”

“Remember how I told you we’re playing a game?” She’d begun this elaborate lie when the unsub grabbed them from the preschool parking lot at gunpoint. It was all a game, and they had to follow all the rules to win. “Well this part of the game is a race. We’re racing to get home. I’m gonna try to untie you, alright? And if I do that, I need you to stay really still and pretend you’re still tied up. But if that woman leaves again, or she’s not paying attention and you can get up without her noticing, I need you to run okay? You get up and you run as fast as you can. You run and run and run until you get outside. And when you do, you go to the first grown up you see, and you tell them my name is Eliza and I’m lost. My dad is Doctor Spencer Reid with the FBI and I need to call him. Do you remember daddy’s phone number?”

Elizabeth recited it perfectly. “Good girl,” Bianca said. “Exactly right. You get them to call daddy, and he’ll come and find you. Okay?”

“What about you, mama?”

“That’s the fun part. We’ll be racing each other home. You and daddy are gonna race me and we’ll see who wins. That’s why you have to be super super fast, okay?”

“Okay!” Eliza smiled up at her, and her heart twisted. She was so young. If they were lucky, she would really think it was all a game – and then she’d forget any of this ever happened. And if they were really lucky, she’d get to see that.

Please, she thought. Please find us, Spencer.

...

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before the door opened and Tara appeared. She sat down next to him, knowing better than to touch him. “I know this is hard,” she said. “But they need you right now.”

The people he loved harder than he’d ever imagined he could love were in danger. And it was all his fault. Cat did this because he loved them. She was hurting them because he loved them. And unless he played her game, it wasn’t going to stop.

“I. Can’t. Lose them.”

“And you’re not going to,” she said. “We won’t let that happen. We all love them, too, Reid. But we can find them a lot faster if you’re helping us. Okay?”

He tried to focus on the sound of Tara’s voice. Tara, who Bianca had taken a liking to immediately, who had gone with the two of them and Penelope to a Doctor Who convention, who had never been one to throw the word love around lightly. “Okay.” He forced himself to stand and follow her to the roundtable room. “Catch me up,” he insisted.

“I just finished talking with Cat,” Emily said. “She wants to go ice skating so she can, and I quote, skate circles around you. When I told her that wasn’t going to happen, she instructed me to tell Garcia to check her email.”

“Which I am doing now…” Garcia said, typing furiously. “Okay, this just came in.” A video popped up on the screen. A dark haired woman was in the center of the image. “Juliette Weaver, she’s Cat’s old cellmate and she just made parole,” she explained. Even before the video started, Bianca and Elizabeth’s faces were visible. Garcia glanced it him, her kind face pained. “Reid, I’m sorry.” She pressed play.

“Here we go,” Juliette said.

“Mama, what’s happening?”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just a game. Everything’s okay.” Bianca was trying so hard to keep her voice even.

“It’s not a good idea for parents to lie to their children.” Juliette walked over to Bianca, whose hands and feet were bound. The woman aimed a swift kick to her ribs. Bianca’s yelp physically hurt him to hear.

“Eliza, close your eyes. Close your eyes, sweetie!” The little girl did as she was told just in time to avoid seeing her mother take a punch that knocked her over. They all heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh several times, and Bianca’s muffled cries. And then there was a gun in Juliette’s hand.

“No, no, no,” whispered Garcia, turning away from the screen.

“Don’t do this,” Bianca said.

But the gun went off anyways.

“NO!” he screamed. Reid felt his knees give way at the sound of the gun and Bianca’s screams as every face in the room froze in horror.

But then Bianca kept screaming. And then the scream turned to a gasp.

“Mama!”

“It’s okay, I’m okay, everything’s okay.” The video abruptly cut off.

“Blanks,” Luke said, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “She fired blanks.” He could feel the air returns to his lungs. Bianca was still alive – for now. But that video was a clear warning. If he wanted to keep them both alive, he had to do what Cat wanted.

“You realize what we have to do, don’t you?” Rossi asked. Reid looked away, the fury building inside of him once more.“It’s the only way to get her to slip up. We have to give her what she wants.”

 “Me,” Reid said.

[realm-sweet-realm]

A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 4.

“Don’t give me any of that crap,” Grant growled, “You’re going to tell me or I’m going to force it out of you. You don’t like it when I drink water, do you? Well, maybe I’ll go drink a litre of it and see if that makes you any more willing to talk.”

Grant paused, as though listening, and sighed.

“Look, if you’d just talk, it would be easier for both of us. All you’ve told me is that it couldn’t be found in a book. I just don’t want Shawn to find out, see? So-”

At that point, Shawn came in and wrapped Grant up in a hug. Grant nearly jumped out of his skin. “Hey... what were you doing, there?”

“I-I- um... I thought you weren’t home yet. Isn’t it early?”

“It’s two in tha morning. Are you okay?”

Grant didn’t say anything. What could be said? Shawn must have thought he was talking utter nonsense.

“Ya just had a screaming match with a wall. Ah think you should go to a doctor.”

“No. Do you know what they do to mental patients, Shawn? I’m hearing voices- they’ll think it’s schizophrenia. They’ll lock me up, subject me to all kinds of things against my will, and who knows when I’ll be able to come out again.”

Shawn didn’t know anything about psychological treatment. But he knew his boyfriend was shaking at the thought of it. He also knew his boyfriend had been suffering, and that Shawn was suffering, too. “Look- Ah don’t know how to put this gently. You’re scaring me. It’s not just tonight, either. You ain’t hidin’ this very well. Either you need to come to a doctor with me, like, tomorrow, or Ah have to leave this house.”

“You should go, then. I’ll tell you if I work this out. I’m sorry.”

Shawn nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. He then went to go back to bed. The next morning he’d get his things together and crash at Wally’s until he figured something else out. He was halfway down the hallway when he changed his mind.

“Okay, actually? Yer comin’ with me. It’s fer your own good.” Shawn took Grant’s arm and started pulling him. It was a fight, but one that Shawn knew he was strong enough to win.

Grant knew it, too, and he was panicking. He held as tight as he could to the bed’s railing. “Let go! Please!” tears were running down his face as Shawn pulled on him hard enough that he lost grip on the railing. They flew back a couple few meters. The image of himself being strapped down and electrocuted flashed across Grant’s mind, and out of sheer instinct, he slapped Shawn across the face. Shawn was so stunned that he let go, and for a moment they just looked at each other, shocked. Then, Shawn left. He packed an overnight bag and went to Wally’s.

A while later, Wally was answering the door in his pyjamas. He was ready to cuss out whoever had woken him out in the middle of the night until he opened the door and saw Shawn, utterly distraught. “Hey. What’ja need, pal?” he asked in his most sympathetic voice. Had... Wally ever seen Shawn cry before? He didn’t think so.

“A place to sleep. Y’know how I’m roommates with my cousin? Yeah, well, Ah can’t do that anymore. He went crazy. It’s not safe now.”

“Okay. o'course.” Wally led Shawn into his apartment, rattled some dog dishes to get his golden retriever, Goldie, and his two current foster dogs, a rottweiler puppy and a dachshund, off the couch, and brought Shawn a pillow and a blanket. The dogs piled back onto Shawn as soon as he laid down, lulling him to sleep.

The next evening, Shawn and Wally rang the doorbell to Grant’s house.

“Hey. Ah’m here to get mah things.” Thankfully, last night hadn’t left much of a physical mark, but there was so much regret in Shawn’s voice.

“Okay,” Grant answered, even more regret in his, “I can help if you want- or, if it makes you feel safer, we don’t even have to be in the same room together.”

Truthfully, Shawn did feel just a little unsafe around him now- that was why Wally was there. But looking at him now, all Shawn saw was the gentle, considerate man he’d loved for so long. “You can help. Ah don’t think you’d do anything like that again unless you were in the same situation.”

“Thank you.”

They went to Shawn’s room and started the process of packing everything up. The primary reason they’d slept in separate rooms was so they could pass as roommates, but another one was that while Grant kept his things reasonably organized, Shawn preferred organized chaos for both utility and the lack of maintenance it required. Once Grant came in with some cardboard boxes to put everything in, the three men got on the floor, putting away clothes and other assorted belongings. Along the way, Shawn ran into a hat he’d purchased from a baseball game. “Hey. Wally? Ah think we got this. Can you wait in th’hallway an’ give us a little privacy? An’ close the door.”

Wally nodded and did as he was asked.

“You remember our first anniversary, Grant? Ya got us tickets to that playoffs game. St. Louis Cardinals and St. Louis Browns. It surprised me that you’d listened to a word Ah’d said about baseball, but here you were, knowing about the most important game o’the year, and where it was, and that it happened to fall at the right time.”

Grant sat down next to him. “Yeah. I remember that. We got to see some pretty cool landmarks on the way down. And the game was nice, too. Do you remember when that fair came back into town, and you insisted that we have a do-over of our first kiss?”

Shawn just nodded. He was trying not to cry. It just struck him that this would probably be his last time seeing this room. “D-do you remember the time Ah broke mah leg, and you used that as an excuse to ask me to move in with ya?”

“Yeah. Probably still wouldn’t have, otherwise.”

There was a pause in their conversation. Shawn was sobbing. Grant moved to put his arm around him, but stopped. He knew that Shawn needed to leave for his own safety, and didn’t want to tempt him not to. “I know why ya don’t want to get help. But how do ya expect this to end if you don’t?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping it goes away on its own, or I find a way to manage it.”

Shawn laughed bitterly. “Wow. For once, Ah get to call you reckless an’ over-optimistic.”

“I know. But if I end up in a mental hospital, it will do irreparable damage to my life. No matter what. I’m taking a small chance over no chance.”

Shawn nodded, then leaned over into Grant’s lap. Grant held him for a while before they finished packing.

They never spoke again. They crossed paths in the studio a few more times over the coming three months, Grant looking sicker each time, and Shawn wanted to say something. He just didn’t know what could possibly be said to help him. In the end, Grant passed a letter of warning along to Shawn- the studio was dangerous and Shawn needed to get out as quickly as possible. And he found it just a little too late.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 9

<- Chapter 8 | Chapter 10 ->

Summary: Your POV on what you’ve been up to since the breakup

1,915 words

The first week you just cried, and slept.

I shouldn’t have said that, you thought the minute you reached the hospital parking garage. You started to shake as you sank into the driver’s seat. Did that really happen? Then the tears started coming, and didn’t stop.

You crawled into the massive bed that you and Frederick used to share, that had been too big and empty and cold for too long, pulled the covers over your head, cuddled into the spot that used to smell like him, and slept. You slept as though you hadn’t slept in years. You slept until the gnawing in your stomach became too painful to ignore and you had to eat.

There was a picture of you together up on a shelf near the kitchen. Frederick looked so handsome—the scar on his cheek was barely noticeable, and he had that fake, smarmy smile he always put on for cameras. Still, because you were standing next to him with your arm around his back, there was a genuine crinkle in the corners of his eyes that wasn’t there for press photos. You almost smashed it, but you carefully placed it back where it belonged, and smashed a vase instead. Then you lay back in bed again, and slept and cried some more.

You cried so hard you felt sick. Then you did get sick. Work called when you were late, and you said you had the flu, which they believed by the hoarse croak of your voice, though it was more like every toxic pound of stress you’d been holding in for the past month was pouring out of you as in some ancient blood-letting ritual. Your body had been operating beyond its limits, physically and emotionally, for too long, and now everything was crashing.

What would he do if you just didn’t leave? As you stubbornly lay there sweating feverishly and refusing to move, you wondered how long you had before he would even check. He didn’t give you a deadline, just an order to get out. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to kick you out of your own house, would he? Where were you supposed to go?

You opened your laptop and searched for housing in Baltimore, and your head spun. Tiny, ugly apartments that you could barely afford. Maybe you could take that promotion you’d been avoiding because it would require too much travel. Nothing was tying you here anymore—no reason not to travel halfway across the country for weeks at a time. You were free now.

You shut the computer and pulled the blanket back over your head, shaking.

Part of the reason you couldn’t get out of bed was the ocean of sadness you were crushed beneath, which made it difficult to breathe and impossible to want to do anything. The other part was that, in truth, you needed it. You’d been spending so many nights lying awake worrying about whether your fiancé was going to die, waking up so many mornings at the crack of dawn just to see him before work, then going straight from work to the hospital without a break, you’d been on the verge of collapse.

When you finally emerged from the bedroom after a solid week of sleep, your head was clear, and the dark circles living under your eyes had gone.

Finally, you could think straight enough to be truly angry.

Frederick said a lot of things that he didn’t truly mean—rude things, patronizing, demeaning, even cruel. Not just since being hospitalized. He always seemed to make up for it somehow, to the point where you saw it as a cute quirk, and you always forgave him, even when he didn’t say sorry. This may have been one of those times. But he didn’t call to apologize. He didn’t call to check on you. To see if you were OK.

If he didn’t mean it this time, then he didn’t care about you. And you wondered why you ever put up with his bullshit.

Another day went by, and you looked at the picture up on the shelf. How genuinely happy you looked standing next to him and his fake smile and perfect hair, because you saw something in him beyond what the rest of the world could see. You saw the tenderness he safeguarded beneath the pompous mask. The real smile beneath his fake one. Everyone thought he was a patronizing ass, and he could be, but he craved your affection desperately and would go farther than anyone you’d ever known just to show how much he cared.

Everything was different now. He had no way to pompously preen, stuck in hospital robes with nary a tie pin to be seen, and removing his means of vanity had also eviscerated the secret kindness that went with it. The Frederick you knew was gone, and he would ever come back. Not the same as he was. He was too scarred.

The psychological scars were far more frightening than the ones on the outside. Once he was healed and no longer in pain, you wouldn’t mind those. You imagined him wearing a fine suit looking dashingly sinister with his exposed teeth, like a Batman villain. It sent a flush of heat between your legs just picturing it. But apparently that made you a shitty person—you remembered Frederick’s accusations and crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself. He wouldn’t be happy until you turned your nose up at him in disgust! Except that would make him miserable, too!

Why the fuck hadn’t he at least called? You wondered if he really did mean it this time.

Days went by. You returned to work and found yourself much more productive than you had been with all the extra sleep, though your stress was getting worse by the day. He still hadn’t called. At this point, you figured he was waiting for you to do it, but you were so tired of being the bigger person. Your entire relationship, you had to be the bigger person. In three years, you could count on one hand the number of times the word “sorry” came out of his mouth. Maybe two hands.

He never said the words, but you would come home to find a gourmet meal being served to you by candlelight. Or rose petals in the bathtub. Sometimes it was just a slow, tender kiss with his thumb brushing against your cheek. Or he would tease every erogenous zone on your body with his feisty tongue until you were shaking with overstimulation.

Now that you thought about it, neither of you were particularly skilled at verbal affection. You were both abrasive and quick with insults, and when you first met, you were like dueling cats yowling and hissing around a trashcan.

How had you managed to win his prickly heart when most of your “conversations” had been arguments? Because you started fucking each other. From that moment, however outwardly you pretended to loathe each other, you were both so cuddly you could hardly bear being separated. No matter what stupid, infuriating jeers he made during the day, you always wanted to wake up in the morning tucked under his arm, your face buried in a chest full of soft brown hair, smelling his intoxicating musk and day-old cologne. Even when you gave up being nemeses, touch was your first love-language. Laying his head in your lap while you read a book. His hand on the small of your back keeping you close at a big event. Combing your fingers through his thick hair. For every sarcastic little snipe, there was a gentle kiss to set everything right.

You couldn’t touch him. For over a month, his skin was too raw to be touched, and for over a month, all you’d had for physical contact was the slightest pressure over thick gauze—and even that was enough to make him wince.

Frederick was changed forever, and he was an asshole. But things might not have been as hopeless or forever-altered as you feared. Not being able to touch (combined with excruciating pain and trauma) had thrown your relationship out of balance, and that was a temporary problem.

Fuck it. You’d be the goddamn bigger person. Considering how much he’d suffered in one lifetime, he could have a free pass on being a dick. You may have said a few… inconsiderate things yourself.

The only thing you were afraid of was that he really did want you out of his life forever. Though you’d made up your mind you were going to see him and try to put things back together, the dread that your visit would only confirm once and for all that things were over made you put off the trip for another two days.

***

Your feet knew every turn and corridor to get to Frederick’s room so well by now, they could bring you there by muscle memory alone, dodging around busy doctors and nurses on autopilot. You slowed down and hesitated as you approached the door to his recovery room, holding your chest to quell the throbbing.

He might not want to see you. If his eyes met you with a scowl, your heart would break in two right there.

Stealthily, you tip-toed up to the door so your shoes wouldn’t make audible approaching footsteps, and you peeked in the little rectangular window. A curly-haired nurse was helping him lift his arms, stretching upward as high as he could manage. He gasped out little curses of pain until she released, and he sighed with relief.

“Good job today, Fred. We’ll work on that a few times a day for now, and then we’ll build on it, OK?” She patted his shoulder.

Oh, she’s in trouble, you grinned with schadenfreude, waiting for him to go nuclear at her for calling him “Fred.” But the explosion never came.

“Thank you, Pamela,” he smiled.

Flipping over to press your back against the wall, you clutched your chest tighter. He knew her name? He didn’t even know the names of half the nurses on his own staff! He used to pretend to forget yours, long after it wasn’t funny.

Worst of all, he looked happy.

He was happy without you. The smile he gave her was brighter than you’d seen him look at you in ages. You thought he would be agonizing over the breakup, but he was doing better since you were gone. You calmed your breathing, and poked your head over the lip of the window again. Now she was leaning down, and he was hugging her. Your throat started to close, and the backs of your eyes burned. It felt like the time you were in first grade when you fell off the playground monkey bars and landed flat on your back. All the wind had been knocked out of your lungs and you couldn’t breathe—you lay on the woodchips in a daze of confusion, mouth gaping like a fish, unable to comprehend why you couldn’t draw in air, and certain you were going to die.

Before you broke down in the middle of the hall, you turned to go home. No, not home, you corrected yourself. Not anymore.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● • 

Tags: @beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Son of Perdition

Description: Henry insists that he is an ordinary man, at least until his mind starts to unravel.

Warnings: angst, false imprisonment, religious abuse, physical and psychological torture, mild blood, threats of gun violence, mild physical violence, kidnapping, brainwashing, smoking

Notes: This story assumes that The Kid is telling the truth about his past in a parallel universe and deals with his imprisonment. It’s dark, and it has a lot of religious themes. Please mind the warnings.

Everything had unraveled so fast. He had tried to seize the threads of his life as it came apart, but they had cracked out of his grasp like a whip and stung him in the process. When the man asked him who he was, a name floated to the surface of his mind. It was limp and lifeless—a corpse bobbing face down in the water after a shipwreck. He slouched against the corner of the cage and watched the man ash a cigarette into an empty coffee tin. The smoke danced in the light of the halogen lamp illuminating the curved walls of the cistern that had been converted into a prison. The man repeated the question.

“Who are you?”

“H-Henry,” the prisoner answered. His throat felt like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together when he swallowed. He lowered his gaze to the metal tray at the man’s feet. The light glinted off the surface of a tin cup, and Henry swore he could smell the water in the air, something crisp and sweet mixed in with the acrid scent wafting off the cigarette. It was close enough he thought he could reach it if he flattened himself to the floor and stretched out his arm, but his vision blurred every time he moved and his limbs felt like they had turned to stone.

The man heaved a sigh and dropped his cigarette butt into the glass of water. “A false witness will not go unpunished,” he said, rising to his feet. He shifted the tray further from the cage with the toe of his boot. “And he who breathes out lies will not escape.”

Henry rested his forehead against the bars and winced as the metal tray scraped across the floor. “Proverbs,” he mumbled. “Chapter nineteen.” The dull recitation spilled from his lips without conscious thought. He let his eyelids slide shut as his jailor switched off the light and climbed up the ladder. The hatch overhead closed and the locking mechanism groaned and creaked, plunging the room back into pitch darkness.

In the long stretches of time when he was alone, Henry tried to put his memories in order. It seemed essential for him to maintain a timeline, though he could no longer explain why. He started with his name, which would remind him of his father, and from there a universe of memories would expand in his mind while a shrill silence filled his ears, occasionally punctuated by water dripping somewhere out of reach.

He remembered his father’s house—the lingering scent of decay as he treaded the floorboards and flicked on a light. He remembered a thrill fluttering in his stomach when his wife said she was late. He remembered how soft her hair always felt, how her skin smelled like apricots and cream. He remembered wondering if their child would be a girl or a boy. He hoped it was a boy. And then he remembered a boy in a cage, and his stomach turning sour when he heard his father’s voice crackle to life again on the cassette player, reciting the revelations of a madman.

The steady drip of water eroded his stream of thought and Henry found himself laying flat on the floor as the room seemed to spin in the darkness. Something told him this was a symptom, that he needed to find a diagnosis and a treatment. He was supposed to be good at that. He reached for his left hand and searched for his radial pulse with his right, but he could barely feel it under his skin. Every time he tried to count the beats, the sound of dripping water crashed again and made him flinch. He realized after several attempts that he would need a watch to take an accurate measurement, anyway. He couldn’t remember what had happened to it.

Time was a problem. He had tried to measure its passage from the cage, scraping tally marks into the floor with his fingernails each time the man brought him food. If he could keep track of things, maybe he could stay rational. If he could stay rational, maybe he could find a way back. Henry reasoned that two tally marks were equal to one day, except for Sundays, when the man didn’t come at all. On those days, he fasted from food, water, and any belief that he might live to see sunlight again, until he heard the scrape of metal above him and thanked fucking Christ that his jailor had returned. He guessed he had made it two and a half weeks before the man started turning off the lights when he left, leaving Henry in the dark for hours on end.

It was the kind of darkness that existed at the center of a black hole, something that consumed the whole spectrum of color and left him in a vacuum. Soon his mind became unmoored. He groped for the edges of the cage, feeling the cold metal under his hands to remind himself that there was matter around him—that he existed somewhere in this iteration of time and space. He touched his face and his body to make sure that he was still solid. He couldn’t hold onto both thoughts at the same time. When he grasped the metal walls that surrounded him, he felt himself blinking out of existence. By the time the man returned the next day, he had forgotten there ever was a tally.

Henry took a few shallow breaths and tried to ignore the dripping sound nearby. It felt like the water was hammering into his brain each time it fell. The damp, musty aroma in the air was green in color, he thought, but even as the idea formed in his head, he knew it made no sense. He had to find some way to stop his mind from slipping—to keep track of things. He had always been notoriously bad at that. His wife set up apps and reminders on his phone all the time. Didn’t she install an app that counted cycles and days? He slipped his hand into his pocket and dug around for his cell phone, but it wasn’t there, and soon he wasn’t there, falling through a rush of sound and color, into another place and time.

The phone had stopped working, anyway. He was wandering in the woods with blood still on his hands, his dark trousers dragging in the deep snow. He accidentally smeared blood on the touchscreen when he tried to get the device to turn back on, but it didn’t respond. It had been rendered useless as a brick when he’d slipped through to this other place—this other Castle Rock, where it was still 1991 and everything seemed tilted and off balance, like he might lose his footing and start floating in the air. He trudged through the snow, doubling back over his own tracks again and again as he tried to find a way to trigger the strange portal he had come through before.

It was in those woods that he first met the man. Henry was straining to hear the sound his father always spoke of, but he heard the click of a gun at his back instead. Cold fear dropped all the way down to his balls as he went into cardiac arrhythmia. The only reason he imagined someone would hold him at gunpoint was that they had noticed the well-dressed stranger wandering in and out of town and decided to rob him.

“Don’t shoot,” he said, holding his hands up. “Y-you can have my wallet, okay? And my watch.”

“Get on your knees,” the man said.

Adrenaline raced through his veins as his sympathetic nervous system kicked in to a heightened state, but Henry felt frozen. He would be dead before he could run, and he didn’t know how to fight a man with a gun. Hell, he barely knew how to throw a punch. As he lowered himself to his knees, he felt the gun travel up his spine and press against his scalp over the parietal bone. He thought of how his father had claimed to have heard the voice of God in the barrel of a gun, but he heard nothing now except his own ragged breathing and the cawing of crows overhead.

“Please, just take my money,” Henry begged. “My wife might be pregnant,” he added quickly. “She needs me.”

“I don’t want your money,” the man said.

He heard rustling and then the man gripped one of his wrists and twisted his arm behind him. Cold metal circled his wrist. Henry jerked his other arm away from the man and felt the butt of the gun crack against his skull. He fell face down in the white powder and heard a ringing in his ears as the man caught his other wrist and cuffed it behind his back. His heart began to beat even faster, thrumming wildly.

“What the fuck do you want?” he sputtered. A dark shadow bloomed at the edges of his vision as the man grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled his head back to force a piece of cloth between his teeth. The man said nothing, tying the cloth behind his head and gagging him tightly. He grabbed the collar of Henry’s coat and hauled him to his feet. Henry stood four inches taller, but the man was stocky, with a gruff demeanor that suggested he was accustomed to pushing people around. He kept a firm grip on Henry’s arm, propelling him through the snow.

Everything that followed seemed to blur together into one white hot streak of panic. Stumbling through the woods became nosing carpet fibers as he was shoved into a trunk, and then he was kicking and screaming until he heard a siren and then felt the car begin to slow. Relief flooded Henry’s system. Thank God, he thought. He was saved. He shouted as loud as he could and thumped against the roof of the trunk until someone popped it open. Both men peered down at him, and he grew quiet.

As the man talked to the cop, a cold feeling settled in Henry’s stomach. The man spoke of bloodthirsty and evil men, of the son of destruction, of Satan disguising himself as an angel of light. He said he acted in the service of God, that he intended to cast the Devil into a bottomless pit as it is written in Revelation. The cop shined a flashlight in Henry’s eyes and leaned in close to his face, staring at him. He stared back, his words muffled by the gag as he tried to plead for help.

“I’ve never seen a pair of eyes like that,” the cop said. He clicked the flashlight off and slammed the trunk shut. The rest of their conversation was casual, as if there hadn’t been anyone stuffed in the trunk of the car after all, and soon the car was moving again.

The segment of time between the car and the cistern blistered like film melting in a projector. Henry had a vague sense of being in a prison when the man freed him from the handcuffs and told him to climb down the ladder. When he didn’t move except to rub the red marks on his wrists, the pistol came out again. He didn’t know why he obeyed; the gunshot would have been the better alternative. But fear streaked like lightning in his system, and Henry climbed down into the dimly lit reservoir. He followed the man’s instructions, shrugging off his coat and unwinding the scarf from his neck. He kicked off his shoes and handed over his belt, then emptied his pockets of his phone, wallet, and keys. The man gestured for him to step into the sturdy cage against the wall. Henry swallowed.

“I’m not the Devil,” he said.

“You will not deceive me.” The man cocked the gun and leveled it at Henry, staring him down until he backed slowly into the cage. His bare foot collided with the back wall. He wanted to argue that the man was being deceived—that whatever he thought he heard wasn’t the voice of God. It was the voice of his own delusions driving him to do things that were morally reprehensible to any sane person regardless of their creed. But he wasn’t dealing with a sane person. He was dealing with his father.

The cage door creaked as the man closed it and fitted a heavy padlock into the latch. When he was done, he got down on his knees in front of a wooden stool and prayed that God would make him righteous and steadfast as he executed His instructions. Henry wrapped his hands around the bars and tested the strength of the cage, hoping that a man as crazy at this one might have made a mistake. It had no give whatsoever. The man was too caught up in his prayer to hear the metal rattling.

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places,” the man said, quoting the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. Henry knew the verse well. He had often been expected to recite long passages of scripture from memory when he was a child, and even though he hadn’t set foot in a church in years, the words were still carved indelibly into his memory.

After he finished his prayer, the man sat down on the stool and considered his handiwork as he lit a cigarette and took a pensive drag. He examined Henry’s cell phone with a furrowed brow, then flipped open the wallet and took out his ID, and his business card, which listed him as Associate Professor of Neurology at Johns Hopkins University. The man turned each one over in his hands as he studied them. When he took out the photo of his wife, Henry’s grip on the bars tightened and his heart leapt to his throat.

“Please,” he said, rattling the door to the cage to get the man’s attention. “Let me keep that.”

The man’s gaze flickered back toward Henry. He sniffed the air and took a zippo lighter out of his pocket, lighting the corner of the photo on fire and dropping it into a coffee can on the floor once the flame approached his hand. Henry sank to his knees and watched the only memento he had of his wife in this fucked-up version of reality smolder and disintegrate. His hands were shaking as he pressed his palms against the floor.

“He told me you would use pity as a weapon,” the man said, lighting another cigarette and watching him coolly.

A rush of noise filled Henry’s ears and suddenly he was on his back again in the dark, trying to fill his lungs with short, shallow breaths that never seemed to satisfy him. Another symptom, possibly a dangerous one. He wondered how long it had been since he had a drink of water. Time had become nonlinear. He couldn’t keep track of it anymore. The man would visit, tempting him with food and drink like Satan in the garden of Gethsemane, and ask him who he was. Henry never gave the right answer. If he mumbled “Lucifer” or “The Antichrist,” the man would hear the lack of conviction in Henry’s voice and call him a liar. If he said his own name, he was also a liar. The man seemed determined to turn Henry into a man of honest faith in his twisted beliefs through sheer deprivation or kill him in the process. The latter felt like a very real possibility.

The hatch groaned and a moment later, it was outlined in a dim halo of light cast by the lantern the man carried. Shapes appeared in Henry’s vision, blurring so much they were almost formless as his eyes adjusted. He rolled onto his side and heard his joints cracking as he pushed himself into a sitting position and slumped against the wall of the cage, panting from the effort. The man climbed down into the cistern and turned on the halogen light, blinding Henry with its brightness. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw a riot of color behind his eyelids while he listened to the stool scrape across the floor and the Bible flop open in the man’s hand.

“And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain,” the man read aloud. Without his sight, the voice sounded like his father to Henry. He imagined he was a boy sitting in one of the hard wooden pews, listening to him preach, restless and uncomfortable in his Sunday best. “He seized the dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil, or Satan, and bound him for a thousand years,” the man continued. “He threw him into the Abyss, and locked and sealed it over him, to keep him from deceiving the nations anymore until the thousand years were ended.”

“Revelation,” Henry mumbled. “Chapter twenty.”

“Who are you?” the man asked.

Henry licked his chapped lips and searched his mind for the right answer. “The Son of Perdition,” he said, and it felt true for once. If his own father had thought an innocent child was the Devil and locked him in a cage for twenty-seven years, maybe he was the son of hell.

His vision came into focus. He rested his forehead against the bars and stared at the man with resignation, willing to do or say anything his righteous zeal demanded if it meant he could have something to drink. The man stared back for what felt like years. He leaned down and picked up the metal cup, dumping water and ashes onto the floor. Then he reached into his bag and took out a thermos, unscrewing the lid.

The scent of the water was cold and sweet and ice blue as the man poured it into the cup. Henry grasped the bars of the cage and stared at the cup of water like he was watching a man perform a magic trick and trying to figure out how it worked. The man set the cup down and slid the tray across the floor. As it inched toward him, Henry fought the urge to reach out and grab it. He knew this man was another version of his father, just as there was another version of himself in this reality. If Henry wanted to survive, he would have to demonstrate piety and respect. He looked at the man when the tray reached the edge of the cage, and waited for him to say grace.

The man let him have water again, but he still shuttered Henry in the dark in between every other visit, perhaps to simulate the cycle of day and night in this place where the sun couldn’t reach. On Sundays, the lights never came on. Those were the worst days. By the time the man returned, Henry would be flat on the ground, his fingers laced through to bars to keep himself from spinning free of the earth's gravity well and hurtling through outer space.

He thought he could feel the dark energy of the universe calling to him from out there, a low frequency that sometimes transformed into a growl. The metal bars that surrounded him hummed with its vibrations from time to time. Everything did. He felt the man's energy radiating from him like a tremor. It was a sickly green color, with flashes of red that flared around him when he was feeling particularly cruel, or flecks of blue that mixed with the green when he was inclined to think of Henry as his son.

Henry learned to say nothing, or risk his words being interpreted as the whispered lies of the Deceiver. He leaned against the bars and became the man's confessor, listening to him read scripture, or talk about the challenges of running a prison, or the problems in his marriage. Henry parted his lips, trying to arrange the words into the right configuration one day when the man mentioned being married.

"I have a wife," he whispered slowly, as if surprised by his own revelation.

After that, he didn't taste food again for days. When Sunday came, it seemed to stretch on and on, until he felt the measure of eternity in his stomach. He tried to place events on a timeline in his mind, but he never could get further than his name before the dripping of water drilled into his ear and erased the markers he tried to use to find his way home. Still, he was certain he had a wife. He could feel her in his matter, as though particles of her clung to him and reverberated on a quantum level. But he couldn't remember the color of her eyes or the shape of her face anymore.

He was never more pliable than after the fasts imposed on him by his jailor. He would listen to the man's teachings as though he was his sole disciple and the man offered the Bread of Life. When the man asked him who he was, Henry looked at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Tell me," he whispered.

The man told him the story of his life in this world. He told him of every calamity that had ever happened in Castle Rock—how each of them could be traced through invisible spiritual markers back to Henry, how he left an imprint wherever he went in time and space, some kind of radiation or heat signature that made fruit rot on the vine. He told him he still caught Henry leaving his mark on the world, and that he knew he sometimes slipped through the bars of his prison and wandered through time, leaving chaos and pain wherever he went. Henry wanted to know more about how he could slip out of his prison and wander freely, but he remained silent.

"That is why you must be punished," the man said. Henry heard his father speaking. He remembered the verse about sparing the rod, and nodded in agreement. His father’s reasoning was sound.

"I must be punished," he repeated.

Henry sometimes imagined he was one of the anchorites who had allowed themselves to be bricked into the walls of churches during the Middle Ages, leaving only a small hole where they could pass food and excrement back and forth and tell pilgrims the messages they received from God. But he never received any divine revelations, or if he did, they weren't in a language he understood. In the darkness he could hear a sound like a raging fire at the center of the universe, something primal that crackled with life. It was always expanding, and he knew that someday it would consume them all.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed between his incarceration and the day that the jailor reached inside the cage, tipping Henry’s chin up to better see his face. Henry remained still, staring the man as he studied him and wondering what he saw. His touch was hard and comforting at the same time. It reminded Henry that he was real.

"You haven't aged a day," the man remarked with wonder. He released Henry's face and sat down on the stool, lighting a cigarette. The skin on the man’s face seemed to sag and his hair had a few streaks of grey. Henry wanted to ask how long it had been, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t remember if the man had always looked like this or not. As the man took a drag, something new emanated from him. There had often been moments when Henry tasted the man’s doubt while they sat together in his cell. He tasted it in the air now—something bitter and stale and sour, like a conviction that had gone bad.

“Someday,” the man said to him. “I will have to end this.”

Henry curled his fingers around the bars and peered out at the man. He remembered the verse that came after the one the man liked to cite so often. “When the thousand years are ended,” he said, his voice weak from lack of use. “Satan will be released from his prison.”

The man stared at him in surprise, letting the ash of his cigarette grow long. “Revelation,” he said. “Chapter twenty.”

Henry inclined his head in a slight nod as he listened to the sound of the universe howling in the distance. He spoke in a halting voice, but one which had conviction.

“I know how it will end.”

@scxrsgxrd​ @skrsgardspam​ @loomiz​ @sunshineandskarsgards​

(Also thank you @girlinthecorner​ for taking an early peek at this for me. I appreciate it.)

[hold-me-sickfics]

14 Days: J-Hope (Part 2!)

Alright y’all, here’s part 2!

TW: Tiny emeto mention, food, anxiety/panic attacks, hospital, nightmares (let me know if you see any I missed!)

Also, huge thank you to @thatoneemokpop-02 for all their help and ideas <3 They’re amazing!

----

Yoongi was ready to do whatever he needed to in order to help Hoseok recover. He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was almost 8:00 a.m. The other members would be here at 9:00 to pick them up. Yoongi looked over at the sleeping boy, smiling a bit as Hoseok’s chest rose and fell. He went to Hoseok’s side. 

“Good morning Hobi.”

Hoseok woke up to Yoongi rubbing his arm softly.

“Morning Yoongi,” Hoseok still felt exhausted. Unfortunately, sleeping in a hospital was well… IMPOSSIBLE. All throughout the night, nurses had been coming in to check on him. He hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour at a time all night.

“I know you’re still tired bud. We’re gonna get you home and then you can sleep all you need to. Not to mention, I’m gonna be the one keeping track of what you eat.”

“No, Yoongi…” Hoseok pouted, knowing his fast food would now be limited.

“Yes baby. Your doctor came in this morning to check on you and he told me that you collapsed partially because you weren’t eating right.”

Hoseok sighed.

“My doctor’s a snitch.”

“No, you’re just bad at keeping track of your health when you get focused in on something.” Yoongi laughed and Hoseok looked at him with an annoyed glare.

Yoongi packed up everything Jin had sent in the bag the night before.

“Relax,” he laughed. “I won’t be totally crazy. You can still have some junk food.”

“Can we get McDonalds’ on the way home?”

“No.”

“Okay then see? You’re robbing me of the essentials.”

Yoongi laughed, and looked back at Hoseok who was partially smiling.

“Hey uh, Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“I um… I think we have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi came over to Hoseok who was holding his phone.

“Namjoon’s called three times, Jin called four, and the maknaes have called nine times altogether.”

“Well… better call them back. I can talk to them if you’re feeling too tired.”

“Nah, I’ll call them. I know you’re just as tired as me. Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, anything.”

Hoseok took Yoongi’s hands.

“Go get yourself some breakfast. You gotta take care of yourself too.”

Yoongi hated to admit it, but Hoseok was kinda right. Since he’d been so focused on Hoseok’s health, he’d forgotten about his own.

“Okay, but don’t you dare try to get up on your own. I’ll be back in a few minutes alright?” Yoongi rubbed Hoseok’s shoulder, and then left to get food.

He ate nearly three bites of biscuit, and a piece of bacon. It was all he could stomach with Hoseok on his mind. He threw away his garbage and headed back to Hoseok’s room. He found it swarming with doctors. He pressed his way through and saw them laying Hoseok down.

“Mr. Jung, you can’t get up on your own yet. It’s only going to make your injuries worse.” The nurse closest to him looked in his eyes to try and strengthen her words.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I get someone next time. Thanks.” Hoseok grimaced and ran his hand down his injured leg.

“Hoseok…”

“Crap.” Hoseok knew he messed up. Yoongi was already worried, and he’d no doubt just made it worse.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry…”

Yoongi hated to pull this stunt, but if he was gonna get Hoseok to take care of himself, he needed to pull it off.

“No, Yoongi it was my fault. I was stupid. I’ll be more careful.”

“No, it was my fault. I could have waited to eat when we got home but I was being selfish…” Yoongi wanted Hoseok to understand what a careless act could cause a caretaker to feel like. With that, hopefully Hoseok would try to take better care of himself in an effort to keep Yoongi feeling like he was doing a good job. Psychology chaos? Yes. Crucial to Hoseok’s recovery? Also, yes.

“Yoongi, stop. I wanted to get up to prove to myself I could. I was gonna do it at home if I didn’t do it here. It wasn’t your fault alright?”

Yoongi knew Hoseok. That annoyance in his voice wasn’t directed at the situation. He was terrified that he wasn’t able to walk or stand on his own.

“Okay. I just… I don’t want you to hurt yourself worse…”

This was true. Yoongi was worried for Hoseok, and rightfully so. He’d just lost his independence and his ability to do the thing he loved. The boy wasn’t only broken physically, but emotionally as well.

“I know.” Hoseok looked down at his leg. It was already casted, black as he’d requested. Perhaps he was feeling a little negative…

Yoongi sat down on the bed next to his injured boyfriend.

“It’s gonna be alright Hobi. I promise.”

Hoseok broke, crashing into Yoongi’s neck in tears.

“I hate this so much.” He sobbed, and Yoongi held him close, as he would have a child.

“I know you do. We’re gonna get through this together okay?”

Hoseok couldn’t answer, his breaths were too ragged and his voice too small.

Yoongi kissed his head, and kept holding him.

After a few minutes, Hoseok stopped crying, just allowing Yoongi to hold him. He wished he could wake up from this nightmare. He was living his worst fear. Not being able to dance… if he couldn’t dance, what was he supposed to do? Lie around and be helpless? Lose his position in the band? What if Yoongi got tired of him and just dumped him? What if-

“Hoseok! Hey, hey, easy. Easy.”

Hoseok came back to reality, realizing that he had just had a minor anxiety attack. Those seemed to be more common under the current circumstances. His breathing slowed, and he released his white-knuckled grip on Yoongi’s hoodie.

“There we go. Breathe.” Yoongi knew what anxiety could do to a person, so he was also good at soothing attacks.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Hoseok had finally caught his breath.

“Alright. I’m gonna go pack our bag up, and then it’ll be time for the guys to come get us. By the way, did you call them?”

“Yeah. They’re getting me moved into your room.”

“That’s good. It’ll be easier for me to help you if you need it.” Yoongi knew that “if” was just for courtesy. From his research, he knew Hoseok wouldn’t even be able to pee without him holding him up.

Hoseok got a text from Jimin that they were at the front door. Yoongi called the nurse, and she came in and helped with getting Hoseok in the wheelchair. In no time, Hoseok was loaded into the van, and the boys were on their way home.

They arrived at the apartment, and immediately the maknaes went into “must help hyung” mode. They were sent to the kitchen to make some sort of healthy brunch while Yoongi helped Hoseok shower.

“Okay we can’t get this boot wet, so let’s just have you sit here and- “

“Oh no no no, Yoongi please let me keep this shred of dignity. I am not sitting in a shower chair.”

“Yes, you are. Baby, if you wanna get better faster, you gotta do what it takes to recover.”

“Fine, but I better get a lot of cuddling after this.”

“I swear on AGUST-D’s album cover, I will cuddle the daylights out of you Jung Hoseok. Now, let’s get these clothes off.”

Yoongi was gentle in taking off Hoseok’s clothes. Soon, he was in the shower, sitting in the chair, and allowing Yoongi to wash his feet and legs (as much as he could). He let Hoseok handle his upper half and privates.

Yoongi turned the water off, and handed Hoseok a towel to dry himself off with. Yoongi would have gladly done it for him, but he thought it would be better for Hoseok’s mental health to remain as independent as possible. He did have to help Hoseok get dressed and back in his wheelchair, but overall, the experience was pretty good for Hoseok. He came out of it smiling.

“There he is. Ready for brunch Hobi? The boys destroyed the kitchen, but they’re proud.” Namjoon laughed as another blast of flour came out the kitchen doorway.

“YAH! Do not throw ingredients that is not what they’re- JEON JUNGKOOK!”

“I sent Jin in there to help them… It seems to be going well…” He laughed, partially concerned for Jin’s mental stability at the moment.

“Ha, yeah let’s see how they did.” Yoongi wheeled Hoseok into the dining room, and into the spot the boys had already made for him.

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

“Oops…”

“Jimin. That was my special pot.”

“I can glue it!” Taehyung popped up out of nowhere with a glue gun.

“No! NO. You cannot use a glue gun on a… Ah shoot. Boys, just take brunch in there and I’ll sweep this up.”

The boys came in with several plates and bowls full of food.

“Bon appetite.” Jungkook smiled as he handed out clean plates and silverware.

“As you see here, we have blueberry muffins, chocolate chip pancakes, various fruits, toast, orange juice and milk. Anything else we can get for you?”

“Nah, guys you’ve done awesome. It’s nice to come home to good food, and all this support.” Hoseok smiled, and the entire maknae line practically crushed him in a hug.

“We’ve got you hyung. Don’t you worry.” Taehyung ruffled Hoseok’s thick, black hair.

“Thanks guys.”

“Alright, let’s leave these two for a bit. Yoongi, Hoseok, we thought you two would want to work out a routine, so I’ve got these guys coming with Jin and I to the store and to run a few other errands. We’ll be back after supper I believe.”

“Sounds good.” Hoseok started on the chocolate chip pancakes, relishing each bite he took.

The others left, and he and Yoongi were left by themselves.

“Well baby, we’ve got a lot to do today.”

Hoseok looked at him, confused.

“Yoongi, I can’t… I can’t do anything remember?”

“Oh yes you can. We are going upstairs to watch a movie because I promised you cuddles. Then, we’re gonna come down here after a nap and we’re gonna make pizza for supper. When the boys come back, we’re gonna hang with them, and then you and I are going to work on songs because I have the attention span of a squirrel when I have to work alone.”

“Yoongi, you and I both know that’s not true.”

“Okay well I still get lonely, so you’re coming with me.”

Hoseok smiled at Yoongi’s attempt to fill the time.

“Can um… can I ask a favor?”

“Anything baby.”

“Can we nap first? I’m honestly exhausted and I still feel sore from practicing so much.”

“Let’s do it babe.”

Hoseok smiled, and Yoongi wheeled him to the bedroom.

“Okay on the count of three. “One, two, three!”

Yoongi lifted Hoseok onto the bed, and then tucked him in, ensuring that his feet were covered up and warm as well.

Hoseok moaned in comfort.

“It feels so good to actually lie down and not feel bad about it.”

Yoongi slid into his “little spoon” position.

“What do you mean?”

“I used to feel guilty when I was resting too much. It was like I was neglecting my work.”

“Crap Hoseok, why didn’t you tell me you were so worried about that?”

“Because you and I both know I wouldn’t have stopped. Then, you’d have been worried and I’d have still gotten hurt.”

“Okay maybe you’re not wrong.” Yoongi knew Hoseok would have still worked himself that hard, but he did wish he could have helped.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok’s voice was already thick, he was falling asleep quickly.

“Hmmm?”

“If I need to, can I wake you up?”

“Of course, you can. Anything you need, I’ll take care of you okay? Just rest.”

Hoseok wrapped his arms around Yoongi and nodded before dozing off to sleep.

Yoongi woke up to Hoseok breathing quickly and gagging. He jerked awake, and immediately placed his hand on Hoseok’s back.

“Woah, woah, okay easy. I’m awake. You’re not alone. You’re safe.”

“Y-Yoongi?” Hoseok burst into tears and gagged again.

Yoongi did what he had always done when Hoseok was having anxiety attacks. He wrapped his arms around him securely, and grabbed his hands so he couldn’t dig his nails into his palms.

“I’ve got you.”

“C-can’t see.”

Yoongi looked at Hoseok, his eyes closed tightly.

“It’s alright baby. You’re feeling scared, but when you open your eyes, you’ll be able to see.

Hoseok shook in Yoongi’s arms. He opened his eyes, still breathing quickly.”

“Can see now…” Hoseok started to breathe more normally.

Yoongi thumbed over Hoseok’s clenched hands.

“Feel a little better now baby?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Hoseok was still shaking, but he seemed calmer than he had been before.

“What happened?” Yoongi kissed Hoseok’s hands.

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Can’t.”

“Okay. That’s alright.” Yoongi just kept rubbing soothing motions over Hoseok’s hands.

“Would you l-leave me if… if I couldn’t… if I couldn’t dance anymore?” Hoseok felt his entire body freeze.

Yoongi’s eyes softened as he heard Hoseok’s question. That must have been the nightmare.

“Hoseok, I’m never leaving your side. Ever. You’re going to get better, but even if you didn’t, you are mine. I’m not losing you. I’d rather lose everything I have than lose you.”

Hoseok’s eyes glistened with a sheen of tears.

“And something else. Back before BigHit found me, I could barely support myself. I would write songs, and sell them just to make enough money to eat. Some days, I didn’t eat. And you know what?”

Hoseok was silent, but paying close attention.

“I’d do it all again if it meant I would be right here with you. Right now. I wouldn’t have chosen any other path. I can’t live without you Hoseok. You’re everything to me. So, no. No matter what happens, I would never leave you.”

Hoseok was again, in tears. Yoongi hugged him, and Hoseok melted into his embrace.

It was then that, even though things would be hard, Hoseok knew Yoongi would be there to support him through it all, and everything would be alright.

4 ½ months later…

“Jungkook, what was that?” Hoseok walked over to Jungkook, who had tried to get by with lazily going through a rather difficult part of the choreography.

“Sorry Hyung…” the maknae sighed, sorrier he’d been caught than anything.

“Okay, let’s go again. Five, six, seven, eight…”

The music blared, and Hoseok grinned as he led the choreography practice once again.

[blackjack-15]

(Pachin)Koping Mechanisms, KuroSAWa, and Putting The Ring On It — Thoughts on: Shadow at the Water’s Edge (SAW)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN, WAC, TOT

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. For this meta and the next (CAP), I’ll have a section entitled “The Faerietale” where I break down the issue of genre within the game and how it adds to the experience.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: SHA, SAW, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SPY, GTH, Rashomon.

The Intro:

Full Disclosure: draft titles of this meta include “Yurei-sing the Tension” and “Using Your Girlfriend’s Mom’s Horrific Death For Fun and Profit”. They ultimately don’t fit the tone of the game (or the meta), but I thought they were fun…so you’re being subjected to them anyway.

Freshly out of the games of growing pains, Shadow at the Water’s Edge is the first of our two Faerietale Games, where we delve fully into Theme and Allegory and other such literary devices — which happen to support some pretty fine mysteries as well. As such, in case you didn’t see it above, both SAW and CAP will have a section diving into the Faerietale-ness of it all (partially because it’s That Interesting and partially to keep the intro section from being like 2k on its own).

SAW is interesting for a number of reasons (which I’ll go into throughout the meta) but one of the things that stuck out to me on a replay was how much it leans on Rashomon for its story about the past. For those unfamiliar, Rashomon is a Japanese film by Kurosawa Akira from the 50s that deals with the rape of a woman and the killing of her husband, a samurai, as told through four different points of view.

Nowadays called “a Rashomon episode” or “false flashback”, the idea of different, opposite points of view being shot and filmed to present to the audience is almost a cliché, but Kurosawa was the first to really bring it to film and to popular consciousness internationally.

Like in Rashomon, we’re presented with different views of the situation at the ryokan (including but not limited to Kasumi’s death) from our characters’ perspectives — and, like in Rashomon, no point of view nor opinion on what happened is ever confirmed to be the Honest Truth.

Was Kasumi’s death accidental, and on whose part was it accidental? Does the world stay the same inside the ryokan, or is it just as prone to change as the rest of the world? Is the ryokan a resort or a prison? Should you respect what your loved one wants for themselves, or is it your job to want something better for them? Takae, Rentaro, Miwako, Yumi, and even Kasumi all have different opinions on these questions, and we’re never told who’s correct, nor to what extent.

Finally, like Rashomon, the game is content with leaving a few answers undiscovered. While shooting the movie, Kurosawa was approached many times by the actors, who wanted to know what “really” happened in the movie — and each time he refused to say, wanting the story to be truly Alive in a way that it wouldn’t be if he answered their questions.

Nancy’s job is to expose the malevolent force in the game for what it is, not to heal the family, nor to make decisions for them.

And speaking of their decisions, let’s talk about what motivates our characters in this game. I know, this intro is already kind of long, and I normally keep this kind of talk for the Characters section, but given how much they intersect in this game, we’re gonna go into it here. All of our suspects here in the game are driven and informed by one thing: their coping mechanisms.

C’mon, no surprise here. It’s in the title of the meta for more than just the pun.

Because our suspects are living in the “Once Upon a Time” section of the faerietale — aka the past — it’s their coping mechanisms that drive them. Takae is driven by guilt over her daughter’s death and fear of a changing world; Miwako is driven by anger towards her family and personally-assumed responsibility over Everything That Happens; Rentaro is driven by selfish pride and concern over his loved one; Yumi is driven by avoidance and individualistic willpower.

These are all common when dealing with loss, and each of these tell us exactly how our characters are going to act throughout the tale. In a very real way, SAW is a game about how we, as humans, deal with the stories that we tell ourselves (another thing that it has in common with CAP), and how that changes the way that we perceive the world.

It’s the breakdown of Rentaro’s coping mechanism — his pride in always being correct — that causes him to Do Evil while claiming that it’s The Right Thing. Everyone else’s mechanisms are what allows for him to be as influential as he is; Kasumi is already haunting Takae, and Miwako is already feeling the world crash down around her. Even though the yurei is just wires and metal and Upsettingly Damp-Looking Hair, its presence in the ryokan isn’t physical – it’s psychological.

Remember, “a ghost doesn’t need to be real to haunt you”.

The Title:

Let’s be real here, we’re getting into the segment of Nancy Drew games where the (most of) titles just kick butt and aren’t afraid to do so. Like, Shadow at the Water’s Edge? Gives you creepy vibes right off the bat even without the yurei on the front giving you The Ring flashbacks. Properly atmospheric without being too specific, and “shadow” gives us the idea that we’re dealing with a monster that’s more ghostly, rather than flesh and blood.

I don’t even have anything negative to say about this title, that’s how good it is — plus, I mean, the acronym is literally “saw”. Awesome.

Let’s move on then to the faerietale behind the title.

The Faerietale

SAW and CAP both function, genre-wise, as a faerietale — a story with few characters, big pasts, legends and magic, and a moral at the end to tie things off. In both cases, interestingly enough, it’s our villain who gives us our “moral” — the Truth that ties the plot, history, and characters together, able to be said in a single sentence. In SAW, it’s this (rather chilling) statement from Rentaro that does it:

“A ghost doesn’t need to be real to haunt you.”

But let’s start at the beginning.

Like in a lot of faerietales, we have two sisters who are as different as can be, an inheritance (a ryokan rather than a crown or a prince), absent/dead parental figures, a wizened mentor related to our main characters (Takae), and a Monstrous Force opposing them and their ‘kingdom’. In this story, Nancy is the Dashing Outsider (not unlike the Prince from The Twelve Dancing Princesses) who vows to learn the secrets, defeat the monster, and save the kingdom, restoring balance to the ‘royal’ family and allowing them to prosper.

(And no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that in this game Nancy’s the Knight in Shining Armor when CAP and Renate’s talk about them is right around the corner, but we’ll save that for next time.)

Having established that the game is a faerietale, let’s talk about why that actually matters (beyond the fact that it’s kinda cool in itself) when we’re looking at the game.

It basically matters for a handful of reasons: it allows us to figure out the suspect Fairly easily, it allows the writers to Allude to subject matters that are a little Dark for the E/E10 rating that Nancy Drew games normally get, and provides a bridge between the (overall) concrete games of the past and the more thematic, character-development-focused games that we’re coming up on. So let’s break that down.

Assigning our characters faerietale roles lets us see immediately that Rentaro is Missing an easy assignation. He doesn’t fit the prince, doesn’t fit a sibling — he doesn’t fit anywhere, in short, which is our first clue that he’s the villain.

Even ignoring the fact that the yurei is obviously mechanical, that Rentaro has free access to the entire ryokan in a way that no other character does, and that he’s responsible for upkeeping the ryokan (which is why it’s suspicious that he’s not the one Dedicated to figuring out the mystery) — which are all excellent things that point towards Rentaro, his absence in the faerietale points to a hidden role.

Since the only role worth hiding is either an 11th hour ally or a villain, and Rentaro is present from the beginning of the game, it’s pretty clear which one he is.

Situating the game as a faerietale also lets HER play with a few more themes than they normally can, given their target audience. Starting with a rather blatant implication of suicide, the game spins on to abusive relationships, overpowering guilt, and Nancy being, well, downright mean with her questions about a family member’s death.

While Nancy’s always been a bit insensitive, the mystery surrounding Kasumi’s death sends her into the realm of bullheadedly rude (to the point where you can get a game over for it). We see why this writing choice was made in SPY (which we’ll cover in that meta), but it’s one of my favorite things about this game; it takes a slight character trait of Nancy’s and gives it a character-driven purpose.

The last function of SAW (and CAP) as a faerietale is to provide a bridge between the older and the newer games. The older games tended to be self-involved entities: they began with Nancy’s room and ended with the letter to Carson/Hannah/Ned. As the game technology improved and the player base got older, however, that started to not be good enough; Nancy and her mysteries needed to become A World rather than simply a string of cases held together with a handful of familiar names and archetypes.

The first step towards this was the inclusion of the Hardy Boys back in our Expanded games, but it’s really SAW and CAP that show an Active Transition. Faerietales are often thought of, literarily speaking, as the bridge between children’s fiction and adult fiction; they involve simplistic plots and archetypes that children can easily grasp, but teach hard lessons about the world that adults will understand and resonate with.

The earlier Nancy Drew games, on the whole (there are of course a few exceptions), are largely concrete, like the children’s fiction they’re based on. The good and bad guys are simply and easily divided,  Nancy and co. are always the heroes and always do right, and the bad guys always go to jail.

The past few games leading up to SAW start to shift slightly; while generally our heroes and villains are still sharply divided, nothing is quite as simple as it seems (look at TOT, where at least a few bad guys get away and actually profit from their bad actions).

It’s here in SAW, however, where we see that take a sharp shift. Those who should be good guys (Rentaro is a Love Interest, he enjoys puzzles, he’s a ‘fixer’ by trade) aren’t good at all; those who should be the bad guys (Takae and Miwako behave a lot like early Nancy Drew villains with their cageyness, dislike of Nancy, and ability to get Nancy to Second Chance) really aren’t.

In case this point is a bit obtuse, Logan is the perfect example of what I mean.

In SHA, Charleena Purcell has a receptionist (well-voiced by JVS) that at first prevents you from talking to her, but isn’t much of an obstacle. It’s a cut and dried ‘solve this one puzzle’ and then Nancy can talk to the author as much as she chooses — it’s barely an impediment, honestly.

In SAW, we’re dealing with another famous author, who also has a receptionist — Logan Mitchell. Unlike the receptionist in SHA, who’s just Doing His Job and exists long enough for a puzzle, Logan is a rather spiteful character who enjoys hanging up on people, and does it to Nancy with Great Joy.

As a character, Logan matters; he has his own viewpoints, loyalties (that are explored in SPY as well), and his own idiosyncrasies that make dealing with him — repeatedly — a bit like dealing with people in real life. The receptionist in SHA isn’t a character, no matter how much I personally like JVS’ voice work with him. Logan is. And that’s a huge difference in the approach of the games and the shift from the concrete, insert-puzzle-and-go nature of the older games and the more abstract, thematic nature of the newer games.

Whether or not that’s a good thing is up to you, the player, and your personal preferences. But it can’t be denied that there is a shift, and it’s the genius of SAW (and CAP)’s genre-shift to a faerietale that does it.

The Mystery:

Our mystery picks up where TOT left off, with Krolmeister sending Nancy to one of his favorite ryokans in Japan as a thank you for her help in the previous case.

This is how we find out that Krolmeister is apparently Spooky AF, as the ryokan is haunted.

Nancy decides to pick up a job while she’s there (the ‘how’ of her obtaining employment and an E-2 visa so promptly is ignored) as an English teacher to some of the cutest (and one of the most disturbing) children in Japan, which is how she spends her days — and how the game gets away with it taking place Solely at night.

The more time Nancy spends at the ryokan, however — and the more people connected to it that she meets — the more that she suspects that the ryokan might actually be harboring a malevolent entity bent on wreaking havoc and shutting down the place once and for all…

As a mystery, the game is solid; you spent most of your time “on-site” at the ryokan, soaking in the very well-done atmosphere, with only a few moments in-game spent at other locations (such as the pachinko parlor, Yumi’s apartment, etc.), and the amount of work that went into every detail of the ryokan is staggering (especially the garden).

Normally, I wouldn’t hang so much on the atmosphere when talking about the plot, but it’s actually relevant here, since the atmosphere is part of the plot — i.e., is it the ‘atmosphere’ of the ryokan that makes the hauntings happen, and did the ryokan kill Kasumi.

Speaking of Kasumi, she’s one of the biggest open-ended mysteries in this game. Did Shimizu Kasumi kill herself, or was her death an accident, or was it caused by a Paranormal Entity, leading to her becoming a ghost herself?

The game tells us how Kasumi died — cleaning a bath that she had never cleaned before, leading to her drowning — but the circumstances outside of her death like her will and her premonitions about her death speak less to an accident alone and more towards Something causing her death.

In my own point of view, Kasumi — remember, this is the Nancy Drew Universe, where ghosts are actually real — had a bit of Prescient Awareness to her, and knew that her death was coming, though not by what. While there’s evidence towards her knowing about her death that could, if looked at in that light, lead one to suspect Kasumi of suicide, it’s unexpectedly hard to kill yourself via drowning in a shallow body of water. Add to that her future plans, and I think it’s pretty safe to assume that Kasumi knew she would die, but she didn’t plan and execute a suicide.

Of course, there’s good arguments to be made on the other side. Whichever way you look at it, I’m just happy with the presence of loose ends, as that’s not the mystery that Nancy’s there to solve — and, indeed, without the presence of an actual suicide note from that period, is a mystery that simply cannot be solved.

The Suspects:

We’ll start with (and yes, the names will all be in Japanese rather than Western order) Shimizu Miwako, the Younger Daughter in our faerietale and the current force behind the ryokan.

As the one (via a faerietale’s rules) destined to succeed, Miwako sure does get the short end of the stick when it comes to her relationships. Her causing/contributing/worsening the rift between herself and Yumi aside, her boyfriend is actively sabotaging her and her grandmother doesn’t think she should be the one running the ryokan, no matter how good a job she does.

As a culprit, however, Miwako would have been a bit confused, given how much she likes the ryokan and the good job she does with it. For a Miwako ending to make sense, she would have had to been influenced by an actual ghost, sabotaging the ryokan without wanting to and having your usual blackouts that come with Psychic Interference. It would have been interesting, but out of the faerietale genre (and out of the Nancy Drew game genre as a whole) and thus not a very good story.

Next up is the Elder Daughter, Shimizu Yumi, who left the ryokan as soon as she could and instead sells bento boxes in Kyoto. Framed as a sort of free spirit, Yumi doesn’t see any need for her to run the ryokan and instead does something that she likes and is obviously very successful at.

As a culprit, Yumi would have, to be frank, been a major disappointment. Already taking fire from her little sister and her grandmother for the Abject Sin of not taking on the family business, Yumi would have been way to easy, both character-wise and tonally for the game as a whole. The Elder Daughter in a faerietale is usually the one who fails (the Youngest Daughter almost always succeeds), and so it’s refreshing to have everyone but herself consider Yumi a failure.

Their grandmother and quasi-mentor, Nagai Takae, is the other person who helps run the ryokan — much to her displeasure, as tradition dictates that Yumi, not Miwako, help run the family business.

Because someone who resents being there will definitely be a much better worker in the hospitality market than someone who loves the ryokan.

Takae has absolutely no head for anything but her own ideas and clings onto tradition not for its sake, but because change is scary, hard, and (in the case of her daughter’s death) heartbreaking.

As a culprit, Takae would have been interesting, but absolutely impossible — unless she was working with someone else. And as interesting as a Takae/Rentaro team-up would have been, Takae simply has no motive for scaring everyone else out. She needs the ryokan to survive, to do well, if she’s going to be able to cling on to the things that she wants.

Rounding out our main faerietale cast is our Malevolent Force, Aihara Rentaro, the ryokan’s handyman and tech expert, who secretly builds robots resembling his girlfriend’s dead mother and uses them to scare people out of the ryokan.

He’s a peach.

Not only is Rentaro our only option for a faerietale ending, but he’s also just the best option for the culprit in general. Handy enough to build a “ghost”, expected in any place in the ryokan without suspicion, and with a strong (if dickish) motive). Like all Evil Wizards/Malevolent Forces in faerietales, he wants to ruin the kingdom and steal away the Daughter — though, unlike a lot of faerietales, he’s convinced himself it’s For Her Own Good.

Which yeah is super gross, but hey, he’s our Villain. Villains should be a bit gross.

Lastly, we’re going to look at two characters who are inseparable from one another for the purposes of discussion: Savannah Woodham and her assistant Logan Mitchell.

Savannah (as we meet her in SAW) is a former ghost hunter who now writes about technology (hence her presence in Kyoto) who mentioned the ryokan in a book about the paranormal. Not being fond of interruptions, she pays Logan to be her assistant so that he can deal with the calls that she gets.

She also brings in a nice little easter egg talking about CAP, where Castle Finster is implied to be the castle she mentions in SAW.

As a character in the Nancy Drew world (as it becomes a world), Savannah is an odd presence, in that she’s a sage without being an academic. Most of the ‘authorities’ that Nancy calls for information are professors, researchers, etc., but Savannah doesn’t quite fall into that designation.

Sure, she’s written a book, but ghost hunting isn’t exactly a…respected profession or topic — and yet, Savannah is clearly the smartest person in the game (and one of the smartest people that Nancy encounters as phone friends). This is great — Nancy herself is no academic, and I do get tired of the prioritizing of Academia over actual knowledge.

Savannah also gets the best lines, and her VA absolutely smashes it out of the park. I’ll talk more about her as the Nancy Games (beginning in ASH), as a lot of her dialogue is foreshadowing for our next games, but suffice it to say that, other than the Hardy Boys and the Drews, Savannah probably fights only Alexei for the most significant NPC in the ND universe.

Her assistant is no slouch in the Significance department, though.

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR SPY AHEAD, IF YOU DON’T WANT THEM SKIP UNTIL THE NEXT ALL-CAPS PARAGRAPH.

Logan (according to him) started working for Savannah to make some money during spring break and found the job too weird to quit once break was done (according to him). He loves hanging up on people, resulting in Savannah referring to him as her “lil’ Georgia bulldog”, and would like to go out on a date with Bess (according to him).

Yeah, pretty much everything about Logan should be taken with a grain of salt, as he’s the one who tells it to us, and…well, Logan is a spy. A spy who’s assigned to Nancy at least as far back as SAW, who gets close to her friend(s) and reports back to Cathedral that Nancy’s obsessed with her mother’s death and thus will probably be used by those who want to know Kate Drew’s secrets.

He ‘fires’ Savannah from being his boss prior to GTH because his work is done; he’s completed the mission he’s been assigned and is now working on other things. Logan isn’t a ghost hunter, nor a receptionist, nor a guy who wants to take Bess out on a date — until he needs to be. Like any good spy, Logan is all things to all people, and it’s his tiny bit of backstory in SPY (easily missed if you’re not paying attention — remember, in Nik games especially there’s no such thing as “optional reading” — that makes him so significant in SAW.

SPOILERS END HERE, YOU’RE ALL GOOD TO CONTINUE.

The Favorite:

There’s a lot to love about SAW, so let’s dive right in.

The first thing I’ll mention, because I just mentioned it, is Logan, who is one of my favorite parts of the Nancy Drew universe, let alone this specific game. His VA is great, his dialogue is great, his character is great — he ticks all the boxes, and I love it.

Savannah is, of course, also a favorite; any game with Savannah in it automatically moves it up a few clicks in my estimation. Savannah (and sage-type characters like her) is where Nik’s writing really shines, and her dialogue is always a joy to read and hear.

My favorite moment is actually a tiny moment, despite it being the titular incident: the shadow at the water’s edge. It’s easy to miss, but when Nancy looks in the bath and sees Kasumi’s shadow for that split second��it’s the haunting that games like HAU and CUR really wanted to have — subtle, upsetting, and fully within the bounds of the Laws of Haunting that the ND universe has set up.

My favorite puzzle is hands-down the bento boxes. Longtime readers of this meta series (which will be two years old this summer!) will know that there’s nothing that I like better than a good logic puzzle, and the bento boxes are a great logic puzzle. It’s fun, cute, and I love that you can do it as much as you want.

I do love, lastly, that this game is a faerietale. Having read and analyzed faerietales for a good portion of my life, it’s nice to see that niche interest represented within another niche interest.

The Un-Favorite:

There are a few things in SAW that I really don’t like, as much as I think this game is great.

The most important is my least favorite puzzle: the frame puzzle. This puzzle is one of the few puzzles that actually make me white-out in Rage and refuse to play further, which is a problem given that SAW is actually a great game and I enjoy playing it. It honestly stops me from replaying the game as often as I really should, given its significance to the ND universe, and for how just good it is. I usually make my sister or my best friend play it for me, but I do actually have to leave the room while they do it because it infuriates me that much.

My least favorite moment in the game is a little different, given how good the game actually is; it’s the very end where, depending on the choice that Nancy makes, Rentaro’s apology is accepted by Miwako. Sure, Nancy says it’s unlikely that they’ll date again, but this is a case where the choice to tell on him or have him tell himself should result in the same result: him having to leave. Handymen aren’t thin on the ground, and the ryokan needs help, rather than the same toxic influence that helped bring it down in the first place.

While I appreciate the choice for Nancy impacting the end — I really do — it should say more about Nancy as a character than it should about Miwako and Rentaro. That it doesn’t is a failure in storytelling at the 11th hour, which is a shame in a game this good.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Shadow at the Water’s Edge?

First things first, I would obviously change the frame puzzle a bit. I don’t think it needs removed per se, but I would definitely shift it. Give an option to skip it, perhaps, or make it easier the more time you spend on that screen, or make it easier if you go in and out of it a few times. Heck, even having it reset when you back out (or having a reset button) would be better, since getting stuck in the puzzle results in Hours of Frustration.

Other than that, I would only change the ending choice. Like I said above, the choice is great, but it should be changed to show us exactly who Nancy is (not unlike the choice in GTH). Is Nancy the kind of person who would not trust Rentaro to tell himself and thus does it, or is Nancy the kind to give him just enough rope to hang himself?

Either way, we’re given a view of Nancy that we’ll see more and more — that she is not always kind, nor infallible, nor impartial. She lets her feelings interfere with her cases, and while sometimes that’s good (again, GTH is a prime example), sometimes the only impact her choices need to have on her is to show us her character.

All in all, Shadow at the Water’s Edge is a good, mature look at the Nancy Drew universe, and continues the thread of connecting case-to-case. While it’s ultimately imperfect, I believe it’s not only one of the most fun games to play through, but also to consider in the larger realm of Nancy Drew games and in adaptation of genre altogether.

[calumance]

okay hear me out..... an fbi 5sos au.... no? okay i’ll see myself out 😔

Oh fuck, okay this was actually quite a challenge for me. I do love me some true crime stories though, however I’m afraid this turned out to sound like an episode of Criminal Minds. That could be good or bad however you want to interpret that. Anyway, here’s some FBI!sos. 👀👀👀 Please note that this has sensitive subjects in it, please read at your own discretion!!!

           Calum sat in the van, lights flashing as he watched as the officers escorted the assailant into the police car, ducking his head and then slamming the door. The case that his team had been working on for months, although solved, came to a crashing halt when they were notified of a hostage situation in the town next to theirs. Immediately, his team jumped into the fleet vehicles and sped to the location of the hostage situation. While Calum sat in the back of the van, he ran through the months and months of research that they had been doing.

           Normally cases such as this one wouldn’t become and FBI problem, but as soon as the crimes started to cross state lines, the case caught the FBI’s attention. Almost thirty people had been reported missing during the time the assailant had been active, and nearly half of those people had gone missing within the past few months.

           The first objective the team was given was to identify the assailant’s profile. Calum walked into the conference room with a cup of fresh coffee, something he thought was only done on TV shows, but after working for the FBI for ten years now, he’s come to realize that life can’t go on without coffee. There was a white board at the front of the room with pictures of all the victims, something that always made Calum’s stomach turn, no matter how many cases he’s worked on. He gulped and smiled down at his colleague Luke as he sat down. Luke has been on the same team as Calum for about five years. Luke worked for the Australian Secret Intelligence Service before he moved to the United States. After he moved he went through all of the American training to be a part of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Calum and Luke bonded over their Australian heritage, although Calum didn’t get into the service until he moved to America over fifteen years ago. Although Luke and Calum both knew Luke was smarter and more experienced, neither of them would admit it out loud. “Is there anything new I missed?” Calum asked after sitting down and taking a sip of the gloriously bitter liquid in his paper cup.

           Luke shook his head and leaned his head into his hand, resting his elbow on the table. “Dude went silent a month ago. Think he’s about to strike again, but not sure where.” Luke licked his lips and leaned towards Calum, pointing to the white board at the front of the room. “I’ve been trying to see if there’s a pattern with where he’s choosing his victims. Maybe if there’s a shape, or a commonality between the cities.” Luke shook his head and dropped his hand, “But I’ve got nothing.”

           Calum stared at the whiteboard. The victims the assailant has chosen all have something in common, the most obvious is the fact they are all women. Maybe the assailant has something against women, maybe a childhood trauma, maybe some Norman Bates thing where he’s obsessed with his mother now he’s killing women. Calum raised his eyebrows and took a drink of his coffee again, he would need more fingers and toes to count how many times he’s crossed men like that.

           The rest of their team made their way into the room, sitting around the table while the team director came last, shutting the door behind him. Calum nodded to the rest of the team, Ashton joined the team about three years ago after transferring from another branch. Michael joined the team four years ago after making his way up from the local police department, his previous title being a detective. Ava, who has a doctorate in psychology, has been working for the FBI longer than Calum has been in America. Ava was incredibly smart and knew everything there was when it came to the human mind, especially serial killers. Ava and Calum were put on the same team six years ago, Calum would never admit it out loud, but Ava was one of his favorite people to sit down and have a conversation with. Greyson was the newest member of their team, he joined about a year ago, and Calum honestly didn’t even know where he came from. The only thing he knew about the guy was that he was ridiculously smart with electronics, a critical component to the team in such a technologically advanced age.

           The director of the team was a gentleman named Henry. He had a good fifteen years on the oldest member of the team, but somehow he managed to get along with every single one of the members of the team, and was able to connect with them on a personal level. Henry began to break down everything they knew, recapping to see if it could jog any type of “ah-ha” moment. Calum leaned back in his chair and pressed the lips of the paper coffee cup to his lips. His eyes danced from picture to picture, collecting all of his thoughts and hypotheses. Although Calum chuckled to himself for his crazy thoughts, something suddenly made sense.

           As he leaned forward he set his coffee cup on the table next to him. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. Again, his eyes danced across the whiteboard, gathering every ounce of information he could. His thoughts became solidified and he sat back, scratching one finger over his cheek before he raised his hand. Henry stopped in the middle of his thought and motioned for Calum to speak. Calum cleared his throat, “Aside from the obvious fact that all of the assailant’s victims are female, and they all have brunette hair and blue eyes, something that I think we’ve been skipping over is the fact that they all came from the same city.” Everyone stayed silent and Calum stood and made his way to the whiteboard to point out his thoughts. “Victim number one, although he lived in New York City, she was originally born in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Same with all the victims afterwards. The assailant is travelling across the country, seemingly killing all the women with this physical description and come from Grand Rapids.”

           Henry sat down and leaned against the table, giving Calum the floor to continue his thoughts and ideas. “We know that the assailant has been seen driving some beat up Volvo with no license plates. Maybe the Volvo is still registered in Michigan, we can narrow down the registrations in Grand Rapids and see if that can get us some names. Maybe the assailant went to school with all of these women, being brunette and blue eyed isn’t exactly uncommon. I think we should find out where these women went to school, and if there is an open registration on Volvo’s in the Grand Rapids area.” Calum was nearly out of breath trying to explain his thoughts, the excitement of figuring something out making his heart race.

           Henry slapped his hand down on the table and nodded, “You all heard the man, start doing some research.” With that, the team scattered. Within a few days they narrowed down the list of names from hundreds, to just a handful. It wasn’t until they released the assailants profile to the press that everything spiraled out of control.

           It took about a week and a half for the profile to spread across all media sources, and it was within hours of the team watching a press release that they got the call of the hostage. The guy who made the call was frantic, he was the owner of the local liquor store. The assailant grabbed the woman and clutched her to his chest as he pointed a gun at the owner. As he held the gun, it gently shook with how hard he was holding it. The assailant told him to leave the store, walk five miles and then call the cops. When the cops asked for a description of the woman, he answered, “She has brown hair, blue eyes, I had just checked her ID, she was from Michigan, and she had told me she was there on vacation.” After hearing that, the description was immediately sent to the FBI and the team scrambled their way to the cars.

           Calum sat next to Luke in the van, and together they put on their bullet proof vests. Greyson frantically typed away at the computer, trying to tap into the security cameras. Ava, Michael and Ashton all strapped on their vest and took a deep breath, trying to ready themselves for whatever was going to happen when they finally got to this liquor store.

           The van came to a screeching halt. Outside the fan was hordes of flashing lights, and multiple policeman perched on their car doors with their weapons pointed at the store. Henry got an update from the chief of police and Calum stood there, eyes scanning the entire front of the store. “He won’t come out knowing there’s so many weapons pointed at him.” Luke said with a sigh, tucking his golden curls behind his ear. Calum turned to him and Luke’s eyes widened. “He’s never done anything drastic in broad daylight. Sure, it’s night time, but there are so many eyes on him that he won’t do anything.” Luke was right, Calum knew he was right, but Calum didn’t know what to do next.

           In one swift movement, Calum stripped out of his bullet proof vest, tossed it at Luke and ducked under the crime scene tape, sauntering his way towards the store front. Behind him, he could here Henry yelling at him, but before Henry could blow everything, Calum turned and shot him a look. Henry immediately became quiet, the only sound being the wind, and the heartbeats of all the nervous officers behind him. Calum raised his hands above his head as he stopped a few feet in front of the front door. “My name’s Calum, do you mind if we have a chat for a moment?” The silence was terrifying, Calum would never deny that, but silence all meant that nothing life threatening was happening. Calum kept his hands above his head as he closed the distance between him and the front door. All of the windows of the liquor store were mirrored, it was a common way for stores to combat the Los Angeles sun. As Calum reached down and rested his hand on the door handle, all he could was himself, and the flashing lights behind him. “I just want to talk, do you mind opening the door for me?” Calum said, waiting patiently for the click of the lock.

           His heart dropped to his feet when he heard the click. Before making his way inside, he gulped. When he opened the door, the woman who was being held was sitting on the floor. Her ankles were tied with rope, and so were her wrists. Over her mouth was a strip of duct tape, mascara flowing down her porcelain cheeks, terror washed over her blue eyes. Calum rushed to her aide and untied her restraints as quickly as possible to ensure her safety. “As soon as I untie you, you run, don’t stop until someone on the other side of the caution tape grabs you, understand?” She nodded, sobbing still out of terror. The second she was free, she followed Calum’s instructions, running until Luke grabbed her, ushering her to the Ambulance and out of sight.

           From behind Calum, he heard the gun cock. Slowly, he raised his hands above his head and turned to face the assailant. The guy was around the same age as him, but looked as if life had run over him more than a few times. His teeth were stained a blackish-green color for the amount of drugs he has injected into his body. His eyes were sunken into his head, his hair unwashed and matted. His clothes were dirty and stiff from the lack of washing. Calum looked into his glossy eyes and could tell how high he was based on the size of his pupils. Again, Calum repeated himself, “My name is Calum, why don’t we put the gun down and have a chat?”

           “No!” the guy blurted out, holding the gun even tighter causing the weapon to shake. Calum has handled many guns throughout his career, but the way this guy was clutching the gun made him nervous. “You don’t even know what I’ve been through!” The assailant yelled at Calum.

           “Oh, but I do, man.” Calum dropped his hands to be shoulder level. “I know that you were outcasted the second you got into high school. On top of that your mom passed away at a very young age. She was a beautiful woman, wasn’t she?” The guy gulped and nodded, tears filling his eyes. “Your dad was never around, so once your mom passed you had no one, isn’t that right?” The guy gulped again and frantically ran his hand under his eyes then clutched the gun even harder. “All of these women, you didn’t even know them, but they look just like your mother, don’t they?” Calum knew that’s what was going on, he didn’t need the assailant to confirm that. “If you drop the gun and come with me, I can help you.” It was such a cliché line, but most of the people who commit these kind of crimes just want help.

           Calum took a step closer to him but the assailant took a step towards him, shaking the gun in his face. He gulped realizing that if he got any closer, Calum might end up swallowing the barrel of the gun. “I don’t need anyone’s help!” The assailant cried out, and in a split second he shut his eyes and pulled the trigger.

           Thinking quickly, Calum lunged at the gun, causing the gun to motion upwards, the bullet going through the ceiling. Within seconds of the assailant landing on the floor and the gun sliding three feet away from him, Luke and the other police officers busted through the front door. As Calum locked the handcuffs around the assailant’s wrists, Luke slapped Calum’s shoulder. The local police officers took him out the front door and Luke wrapped his arms around Calum, “I heard the shot and thought he got you. You’re a crazy son of a bitch aren’t you?” Together Luke and Calum laughed. You have to be a special kind of crazy to have a career in their field, but Calum loved being that special kind of crazy.

************

Tag list: @mantlereid @notinthesameguey @viiirg0 @wheniminouterspace @thinkofmehlgh @another-lonely-heart @limer-encia @itsmytimetoodream @babyoria @treatallwithkindness @karajaynetoday @talkfastromance4

**If your URL has a strike through it’s because it won't let me tag you ☹️

Ko-fi

[austarus]

Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 2 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @marry-me-harrywells​

Word Count: 4144

Part 1   Part 3    Part 4    Part 5

You brushed your damp hair from any remaining knots, the remnants from the warm shower no longer lingering on your body. Taking in a breath, you smelled freshly of raspberry delight from your shampoo and conditioner combo. Nothing beats getting clean. Placing the hairbrush down, you braided your locks into a French Braid that Jesse had taught you to do. You sighed at the thought, turning to look at the picture frame that remained on your bedside counter. It was just last year that everything was ok. A shiver had gone down your spine.

The frame held a picture of you, Harry, and Jesse at a Christmas Gala back on Earth 2. Your fingers ran over the cool glass when you picked up the fame, taking a seat on your bed. Jesse and you had wide grins, thoroughly enjoying the night, while Harry had a small smile laced onto his face as he stood in between you both with an arm around you and her, a glint of light evident in his deep blue eyes. Harry and Jesse had been making progress on restoring his intelligence, something that Marlize DeVoe hadn’t done a great job of doing Jesse had commented. And much to the dismay of some of Jesse’s hero group, Jesse pushed forward with helping her father. Honestly, you knew Harry wasn’t just going to sit around and be an Average Joe. What was it that Cisco called them? Jesse and the Quicksters? Yeah, that sounds about right. You laughed to yourself a bit, remembering how Harry hated the name your friend had given Jesse and her group.

Vrr, vrr

Your phone vibrated, bringing you out of your thoughts. Lowering the picture frame into your lap, your fingers still danced over the glass pane. Picking up your phone, you saw a text notification from Cisco.

Ciscito: Hey, you still up? (10:45 PM)

You: Yeah, what’s up Vibe? (10:46 PM)

Ciscito: I think Chester and I made the necessary modifications needed to connect the Cerebral Inhibitor to the Mindscape machine. Schematics and diagnostics seem to be running smoothly, but without a test run we can’t be too sure. (10:48 PM)

Ciscito: Have you talked to Cecile? (10:49 PM)

You: Yeah, she said she’s free all of tomorrow, but if something were to come up she’d let me know. Also, I sorta got persuaded into babysitting Jenna next time Cecile and Joe need a date night, but that’s fine with me. (10:51 PM)

You: That’s why I’m going to have Harry and Sherloque, maybe even our salty German Wells be our fresh pairs of eyes for this. (10:54 PM) One wrong calculation and well…

Ciscito: Ugh, please don’t mention said Herr Wolfgang “stick-up-my-ass” Wells (10:55 PM)

Ciscito: You feeling ok? Need me to come over? (10:55 PM)

You: No, I don’t wanna steal you from Kamila. She’s going to need you with what she experienced in the Mirror Dimension. And Eva’s still on the loose. (10:55 PM)

Ciscito: But are you feeling ok? (10:55 PM)

You: Honestly, I’m scared Cisco. What if I’m wrong? What if all of this is wrong? Like I said I’m just a doctor, I don’t know if my thought process even works with the new rules of physics with this new timeline… What if I’m the reason that I don’t get to see Harry again? That we don’t get to see him and Jesse. (10:57 PM)

Ciscito: Hey! No! You listen to me, and you listen to me well. We’ve done this before. We didn’t think it was possible for multiple universes to even exist, but it did. Closing the breaches to trap Zoom, we figured it out with Harry. Nazis from Earth-X crashing the West-Allen Wedding suddenly happened, but then we saved the day with everyone. (10:59 PM)

Ciscito: Hell, we didn’t even know how to perform an exorcism until a couple of weeks ago! Scientifically might I add, despite all the things Cecile brought in. We Expecto Patronum-ed the shit out of Thawne. He’s just lurking around like the pissed off, red-eyed Voldemort that he is now. (11:00 PM)

Ciscito: My point is, have a little faith in yourself. If it’s anything that HR taught me, is that you don’t have to be a genius or a physicist to come up with a plan to save the ones you love.  (11:00 PM)

Ciscito: Remember that. (11:01 PM)

You: Thank you Cisco, I really don’t know what I’d do without you. 11:01 PM)

Ciscito: Yeah, I mean, that’s why I’m here. All in a good day’s work, you know. Doing the Lord’s job, blessing others with my existence and advice.  (11:02 PM)

You: Wow, Ciscito, I can practically feel the narcissism through the texts. (11:03 PM)

Ciscito: Is that what you still have me on your phone as? (11:04 PM)

You: You’ll never know~ (11:05 PM)

You: Goodnight Ciscito~! (11:05 PM)

Ciscito: Wait (11:06 PM)

Ciscito: No, this is serious! (11:06 PM)

Ciscito: CHANGE IT!! (11:06 PM)

***

With hurried footsteps, you entered into the Speed Lab seeing the Mindscape machine all set up with the Cerebral Inhibitor perched on a nearby table. Chester was working on creating some algorithms for Sally and the other STAR Labs Satellites while Cisco tinkered with the Neural Splicer. Nash was already in the room, hovering over them and messing with Cisco. The leather jacket you wore seemed to carry a bit more weight on your shoulders, you made a head nod at each of them. You peeled your jacket off, not being able to stand it against you anymore. Not really registering Chester’s chattering and enthusiasms to Cisco about opening up multiple dimensions and the endless possibilities of technological advancements that could come from such discovery, you took a seat on a mobile stool nearby. Running a hand through your hair, your brain rifled through your doubts. What if I end up frying Nash’s mind? A pang of hurt struck your chest because then not only would he be dead, but so would all the other Wells if your assumptions about due to their existence in his mindscape were correct consistent wavelengths. Their hypothetical blood would be on my hands.

Once Cisco had threatened Nash to leave him to work in peace, you approached the slyly grinning adventurer. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you.” You pocketed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and gave him a small smile.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I guess for taking a chance on me and coming back. Even if you didn’t know what was going on.”

Nash pursed his lips for a moment, shaking his head for a bit, “Oddly enough, I had a gut feeling that told me an adventure always comes with your Team’s calls.” A cheeky laugh left him. “You guys just always go out looking for trouble, huh.”

*Speak for yourself,* you deadpanned in your thoughts, but let him continue.

“Lucky for you all, I happened to be available, so why not pop in. If this does work, then…” The dark-haired Wells trailed off, looking over the Speed Lab, “Then you get your Wells back. But-”

“-But?-” You raised a suspicious eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“You owe me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, little lady. You owe me and when the time is right,” he paused in thought, “I’ll cash that favor in.”

You scoffed and unfurled your arms, an incredulous look on your face, “What? Nash, you-”

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Cecile interrupted you, entering the labs with Baby Jenna in her stroller. You rolled your eyes at him, gesturing and mouthing that this conversation wasn’t over. Nash just smirked to himself. Heading over to Cecile, you gave her a hug. “Jenna gave me a bit of a tantrum getting dressed today.”

“No problem, thanks for doing this Cecile.”

“Always here whenever you guys need me.” The metahuman attorney gave Jenna a toy to stay preoccupied until this was over. Cecile turned back to you, a look that’s all too familiar crossing her face. “You couldn’t sleep.” You made a sheepish look before heading over to one of the computers, setting up the software to monitor physiological and psychological functions. Cecile followed close, reading you, “Or more like you didn’t want to sleep.”

You opened your mouth to speak only to be cut off by that motherly look she had on her face. Closing your mouth, you shut your eyes for a moment before reopening them, “I guess I was nervous. I mean, a lot’s at stake here, Cecile.”

“Uh -uh, what did I say about negative attitudes in my labs,” Cisco strode close, handing you the one MAD 2.0 after setting down the Neural Splicer. You stuck your tongue at him, “We want him back just as much as you, all of them, so don’t worry. We’re Team Flash. When have things not gone our way?” You and Cecile just made a face at him as he handed Cecile one MAD 2.0. “Actually, don’t answer that, anyway- Party people, let’s get a move on.”

You and Cecile put on the MAD 2.0’s meanwhile Cisco sedated Nash, who’s currently lying on a gurney and had the MAD 2.0 on already. Caitlin had told him the sedation would last a few hours, but would keep Nash’s body under normal cellular and molecular regulation. Making eye contact with Cecile, you nodded as if to say that you were ready. Your nerves spiked slightly in anticipation, the hairs at the back of your neck sticking up. She held a hand for you which you took, shutting your eyes in focus and allowing her to transport you into Nash’s mind.

***

Opening your eyes, you find Nash right in front of you before looking around. *I guess what you indulge in becomes your mindscape* you thought as your eyes scanned the cold-looking cave walls with lights hung up on them to illuminate the paths.

“Alright, I’ll be monitoring your vitals until Caitlin comes back, but in the meantime Cecile and I will be here in case anything happens,” Cisco voiced out to you and Nash, but you had stopped listening and pushed past Nash. But where? You had no clue, you just needed to start moving.

“Ah, hey-” Nash followed with quick steps until he was beside you. “Shouldn’t you be letting me lead the way? This *is* my mind and everything. I’d know it best.”

“Perhaps, but I didn’t see you moving. The one who’s supposedly quick on his feet as a multi-versal explorer.”

“Snarky, I can see why Harry would like you,” Nash let out a little laugh, his words making you grin slightly. “And it’s geological myth-busting, ah-thank-you-very-much.”

You pursed your lips for a moment and stopped, turning towards him, “Be honest with me Nash, do you think I’m being delusional about this?”

“Delusional? Never. Conflicted? Slightly. But hopeful,” he adjusted his jacket and started walking with you in toe, observing the caves and mentally remembering where he had last seen both Wells doppelgangers. “Even with that shred of doubt within you, I can see that you haven’t let it consume the hope you have left. Hope is important, it gives life meaning. How else would a physician such as yourself come up with a brilliantly thought-out plan?”

He glanced at you with a quirked-up eyebrow, sending you a witty smile that was oddly comforting. Maybe because he wore the face of the man you trusted the most. You smiled to yourself and looked on ahead. Hope, sounds something up Kara’s alley really. You both had passed by a couple of exits or cave-memory outlets actually.

“So, based off what Cisco told me when he exorcised Thawne out of you, each cave outlet has a memory of yours? Whether good or bad. And only you’d be able to get into it?”

“Give or take. Thawne apparently rifled through all my memories, so I’m less keen on having the others do the same.”

“Did you install a little battle droid or something, Solo?” You joked.

“Ha-ha, not exactly. And an adventurer never shares their secrets without getting something in return.”

“Touché, Nash. Touché.”  

You two continued to walk for god knows how long (Cisco checked in to say that 35 minutes had passed since you’ve entered, and that Caitlin had finally returned) until voices reached your ears. Stopping in your tracks, you and Nash were currently on the top part of a slight rocky incline structure within his mind. He stopped beside you, squinting at the sight in front of him. From a good distance you can see a group of Wells, in an enclosed circle, heatedly discussing something with each other as insults and science-y words were thrown around. Very loudly, might you add. They were none-the-wiser about yours and Nash’s appearance. From afar, one wore a dark fedora and the other had platinum white hair while the remaining two had dark hair. One dark-haired Wells had their back facing you. Is… is that one wearing sunglasses inside a cave??? Your eyes widened as one of the voices distinctly made your heart jump: gruff, sarcastic, and full of irritation towards the other men.

“Oh my god,” fell out of your mouth in a shaky whisper, standing stunned in place. Your body refusing to even synthesize tears at this point.

At that same moment, Nash had turned his head towards you, reaching a hand out to stop you, “Ah, hey- (Y/N) don’t-” but you had already started running down the slight incline. Not too steep enough to pick up way too much speed, but good enough for you to keep running.

“Shit,” Nash cursed, yelling out to one of the Wells in the group that he can see clearly just as you had started running. “Sherlock!” Nash made his way down the incline albeit a bit slowly, gauging the forthcoming interaction with the group.

“Hm, its Sherloque,” Sherloque immediately perked up at the sound of the voice calling his name incorrectly, eyes easily spotting you in the dim-ish part of this mind-cave as you were closing in. “Uh, ’arry. ‘arry!”

“What?!”

“Incoming,” the detective quickly altered his doppelganger and pointed a finger behind him. “Incoming très vite!” The other two Wells turned as well with confused looks.

“What?” Those words left Harry’s mouth, turning his body around in one fluid motion only for your body to launch into his arms. Knocking the tall Earth 2 genius back a little, but not enough to have you both fall to the ground. Your arms wrapped around him tightly as your head buried itself in his chest.

Harry had stood there, the shock leaving his body after a second or so. His arms circling around you instantly, a soft expression crossing his face as his eyes shut. The dark-haired man breathed you in. Reopening his beautiful baby blues, he kissed the top of your head before you both pulled away slightly. A hand gently cupped your face while the other held onto your upper arm as if checking if you were an illusion or not. It always blew your mind to pieces and made your heart swell at the way he handled you. How his callous hands can manipulate machinery and tools, yet gently caress you as if you’re made of the most fragile material to ever exist on any earth.

“Hey,” he whispered in that gruff voice of his, eyes filled with such warmth at the sight of you. Your hands rested on his firm chest, a thumb rubbing the material of his black sweater. His thumb brushed your cheek, feeling the growing heat on your skin. Feeling you against him. It was weird. Your psyche self and his interacting like this in Nash’s mindscape, yet feeling utterly and impossibly real to the touch.

“Hi,” you responded with that silly star-struck grin never leaving your face, the heat on your cheeks growing. You might as well had heart eyes popping out of your face. You saw him check over you, seeing if the Crisis had done anything in any way to change you from what would have been something so familiar.

Sherloque had a small smile on his face at the reunion, Sonny had that wide smirk on his features before nudging the uptight German beside him. Said German only rolled his eyes slightly as he adjusted his glasses but knowing deep down that it’s nice to see someone else other than a Harrison Wells doppelganger. Wolfgang won’t admit it because it’s just not his style. Nash had stood a little back behind you, nodding at the three gentlemen as the couple in front of him literally forgot the existence of him and the other Wells men.

Sherloque cleared his throat, “Now is that anyway to say ‘ello to us, good doctor?”

You blinked snapping out of your trance with Harry, looking over to the rest. You and Harry broke apart from the hug with you doing a tiny excited wave, “Hey, sorry about that.” At the same time, Harry’s hand found yours and intertwined your fingers together.

“No problem, Doll,” Sonny responded in that Brooklyn accent of his. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

Wolfgang was the last Wells you made friendly eye contact with, but you noticed something. “I like-” you gestured to the slight facial hair on his face, “-the goatee thing you’ve got going on . It suits you.”

“Danke,” Wolfgang’s cheeks were dusted a slight pink color. He played with his glasses a bit.

“Now what brings a beautiful dame like you to these dark depths?” Harry shot a glare at Sonny for the pet names, he mistakenly held your hand a bit tighter and it made your heart beat a bit louder. You only raised your eyebrows at this Wells as he had spoken to you. Sonny just shrugged to which Harry narrowed his eyes even more. Oh, if looks could kill.

“We-” Nash started, stepping close to stand beside you while Harry was on the other side, “-have a proposition.” You five now stood in an enclosed circle.

You gulped, licking your lips and criticizing yourself for getting too caught up in the moment when every second should be spent on your theory, “I think I found a way to bring you guys back.” The Wells men froze, their eyes lighting up for a fraction before glancing at one another. Sherloque nodded at you. “Each and every one of you.” You snuck a peek at Harry, who’s eyes met yours instantly.

“Vell,” Wolfgang was the first one to break the silence that had shifted, “let’s hear it. Bitte.”

***

You explained your theory to them about multi-dimensions, the equipment that would be used, and what Team Flash had been doing so far. You couldn’t help but glance at Harry and Sherloque, receiving encouraging nods and a proud smile. “I just wanted to run this down with you guys because rewriting the laws of physics seems to be your area of expertise.”

Each Wells had their minds working through the information you had just given them, the cogs in their brains already turning in order to isolate a critical factor that can ruin it all.

“It shouldn’t be as tricky as multiverse hopping, amiright?” Sonny joked.

You gave a sheepish smile at the cheery Wells. I can ironically see why they call him Sonny. “I-I know I’m just a doctor, and- Barry and the others said it makes sense. Chester and Cisco are working to manipulate the Cerebral Inhibitor to the Mindscape while adjust the Neural Splicer for the Cerebral Inhibitor in order to return your psyche’s back to your bodies.”

“Aber ein problem,” Wolfgang interjected, gesturing with a hand while he had an arm crossed across his chest. “How are you going to take into account zhe dimensional breaches? Has Team Flash found ein dimension to extract it’s properties in order to make a sufficient extrapolator?”

“No,” you draw out your answer, “but that’s where you all come in.” Sherloque’s eyes held that curious glint as you continued, “All the Wells will be the key-”

“To opening up dimensional breaches to Earth-Prime.” The Frenchman finished. You nodded, biting your lower lip.

“Recording each entrance and cataloging it for future use in case something else were to happen,” Nash interjected, adjusting a gloved hand. Why does he wear those all the time?

“And it’s up to us, all of us to crack this… dimensional code. To solve a new problem,” Harry added on. You turned to him, your thumb rubbing his hand.

“Harry, you figured out how to close the breaches. Without a doubt, I have faith that you and the others can open these dimensions. That all these Earths are just hidden somewhere tricky to make us lose sense and hope of finding the ones we love.”

“But- and excuse my English- there’s a fuck ton of Wells and Earths in here and out there. How would efficiently cataloging even work with that much information and coordinates, my friends?” Sonny brought up an excellent point. One you hadn’t thought about because honestly you didn’t think you were gonna get this far. You were essentially at a loss for words.

Wolfgang cleared his throat, raising a pointer finger, “Ja, vell, before zhis crisis had occurred I created a neural memory chip in vhich I vas able to register every Vells across the multiverse from our strange und large Council. Basically, downloading zhe information into my own memory as vell as my psyche. Vas not easy, but after some time it vas a success.”

“Wolfgang, that’s amazing.” You said, feeling that hope inside you swell up again and taking down the pesky doubt that had been gripping your heart these past couple days.

“Danke, schatz.” The German Wells mumbled the last part to himself, but Sonny and Nash heard him. “I believe zhat a Council meeting ist overdue.”

“I guess, I should leave that to you guys.” You shrug your shoulders a bit, sadly letting go of Harry’s hand.

“Nein, halt-”

“Non, (Y/N)-”

“Hold on, doll-”

“Babe-”

Your eyes widened in confusion at there protest. “What?” Nash only rolled his eyes, crossing his arms because he really didn’t want to attend a stupid Council meeting with all those “idiots”.

“The others are…” Harry pursed his lips and glanced off a bit before looking at you. He didn’t want to say it.

“Stubborn? Irritably hardheaded? Unnerving?” You suggested and crossed your arms at you. “Yeah, I know. I’ve dealt with like four Wells already.” Harry raised an eyebrow at you, but he knows that his flaws were something you’ve grown to love and accept of him. As you’ve told him before obviously.

“Zhe ozhers vill need convincing-”

“-yeah, they’ll actually sit down and listen to ya, doll. Instead of getting at each other’s throats like the last couple of times and having all hell break lose like an all out mafia brawl.”

With confusion laced on your face at this new information regarding the council meetings you can see why Nash hates attending them. Your eyes wondered at Sherloque who had remained quiet in thought then to Harry. Each exchanged looks before Harry spoke up, “I think what this idiot is trying to say is that it’s best for you to propose the idea.” You opened your mouth to say something, but Harry cut you off. “I will be right beside you. Sherloque, Wolfgang, and I have sorta… taken charge of the entire council.”

“Like the Roman Triumvirate?”

“Just without the power-grabbing, backstabbing, and domination.”

“What about Sonny?” You all looked at the Brooklyn-accented Wells.

“Yeah, I actually don’t know why he hangs around us.” Harry deadpanned to which Sonny pouted with an eye roll.

“Hey, I’m your guys faithful secretary and advice guru, basically your hype man.” You had not seen Harry roll his eyes so much and so hard at the New York Wells. It made you want to laugh so much had your situation not been filled with a serious tone. “So, what do you say, doll?”

“I-” Your eyes danced to each Wells, sighing and looking down for a moment before locking your gaze onto Harry. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself,” you whispered.

“You won’t. Babe, I’ve got you,” Harry took your hand in his larger one once again, “Just like you’ve been by my side before.”

“Sherloque?” Calling his name snapped him back to reality, but it did not mean he had not been listening to you.

“100% with you every step of the way, petit fleur.” He tipped his hat at you, a knowing small smile on his face.

“Alright,” you let out a breath and shrugged. Harry grinned widely, especially at the fact that you would be staying longer. “Lead the way.” What else do I have to lose?

French and German Used:

très vite – very fast

danke – thank you

danke, kleine frau – thank you, little lady

bitte – please

und – and

aber ein problem – but one problem

petit fleur – little flower

[thestarwrites]

A Different Time, a Different Place Ch.4

[text:Sunflower] 3:45pm- oh please baby please let me know if you’re okay. I saw on the news that nana is dead- I know what she meant to you but please- you mean everything to me. I need to know. Please... please if you’re alive answer me.

He was taking a break from training with Gran Torino at UA when he heard his phone buzz from his bag. Guilt dropped in his stomach as he knew who it was. The woman he loved. That he’d been avoiding in his grief and rage. Was that fair to her? He loved her. Nana told him to keep going. She used to support his relationship. He’d been avoiding her for five days.

Finally he read the newest message and couldn’t help but respond. She was worried sick- how could he not put her at ease?

[text: Toshi] 3:50pm- Hey. I’m alright. Well I’m not alright but- I’m alive.

[text: Sunflower]3:50pm- TOSHI!!! Oh my god- oh thank god you’re alright. I’ve been worried sick!

[text: Toshi] 3:51pm- I know I’m sorry.

[text: Sunflower] 3:51pm- no no, don’t be sorry baby- I’m not mad. I can’t believe how you must be feeling. I’m just so happy you’re alive. I’m so sorry about nana.

[text: Toshi] 4:05pm- I miss you.

That message broke Keri’s heart and she began to cry sitting at her bed at home. Desperately wiping her eyes she sniffed.

[text: Sunflower] 4:07pm- I miss you too. Come over tonight? Please?

He knew he shouldn’t. All for One will surely be looking for him. And he would be putting her in danger. But after everything he was feeling so lonely, so sad, so angry. He wanted to see her. He loved her didn’t he? He couldn’t abandon her like this.

[text: Toshi] 4:10pm- Okay. I’ll come by your place tonight- 9 too late?

Letting out a soft sob, she cupped her mouth and smiled.

[text: Sunflower] 4:10pm- it’s never too late for me to see your handsome face, my hero.

Toshinori smiled a little for the first time in days.

[text: Toshi] 4:12pm- I’ll see you later then sunflower. I love you.

[text: Sunflower] 4:12pm- I love you Toshi.

He stood, ready to face Gran Torino again.

--------

After training the older man spoke, “I’ve been making arrangements for immediately after graduation.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“When you graduate in a few weeks, you will go to America.”

“What?! No! I have to find All for One! I have to avenge Nana!”

Gran Torino grabbed his collar, “You have the raw power but you have no experience Toshinori! No skills in the field or for strategy!” He huffed, “You have to go where no one knows you are, where All for One can’t find you. And work to become the symbol of peace.”

“Gran Torino I can’t just leave!”

“Yes you can. You’ll leave and you’ll study abroad for a few years.”

“A-a few years?”

The man nodded, “Toshinori. No one can know.” He gave him a look.

His eyes widened as he came to the realization, “Keri-“

“No one. Can know.”

“No! No, sir! Please! She’s all I have! Let- let her come with me! No one will have to know where we went!”

He shook his head, “First of all, you can’t devote yourself to hero work if you’re worried about a girl. Second of all she has parents, who will notice if she disappears. I also found out she has already been accepted to a prestigious university for psychology.” He sighed, “Not to mention it will make her a bigger target, being with you while you’re in hiding.”

“So what you’re telling me is I can’t even say I’m leaving.”

“No.”

He clenched his fists, tears welling in her eyes, “I have to abandon her...”

“It’s for her own safety, and yours. You are the future, you are the hope of this world. This is why I didn’t want to encourage this relationship.”

“Nana said heroes have time for a life!” He wiped his eyes.

“And look what happened! Now nana’s husband and son are left without her and we can’t even do anything for them! She forbid us.” He sighed, “When you come back to japan I don’t care what you do, but until then I am your teacher and you will follow what I say!”

He looked down at the ground, tears running down his face, “Yes, sir.”

------

Keri waited for him outside on her balcony, knowing he would want to sneak in, as he sometimes did at night. His gigantic red hoodie wrapped around her for warmth in the cool early spring air. As she started to drift off in her little chair she heard her name.

“Keri... honey wake up, I’m here.”

Her eyes opened and she immediately started to cry, “Toshi... this better not be a dream-“

He pulled her by her hand and held her close to him, tears falling down his own cheeks, “Its not sunflower, I’m here- I’m here for real.” His heart was breaking. He already lost the woman he considered as his own mother, and now he would lose the love of his life.

“Oh Toshinori!” She jumped up and hugged around his neck, sniffling and kissing his cheek. He held her to him, “I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry about what happened...” she could feel his heartache. It was deafening.

He sank to his knees and cried now that he was in his safe place- her arms. He would have to commit all of her to memory. Every inch of her. The smell of her. The feeling of her in his arms.

Lifting his head up she kissed him softly and he pushed into the kiss, passionately pouring himself into her. It was partly to chase his grief and anger away, and partly because he didn’t want to let her go. They kissed until they were both breathless and had to break for air. She looked so beautiful, pupils blown, lips puffy and kiss swollen, eyes shining. Cupping her cheek he managed a small smile.

“Come into my room...” she sighed softly, standing and pulling his hand.

“Eh-what?” He blushed. He had only ever been in her bedroom a few times they had snuck in to cuddle or do some other questionable things, “Keri-“

“Toshi... I need you.”

He swallowed. She didn’t need to say anything else, he nodded and picked her up, heading back into her room from the balcony and sitting her gingerly on the bed. He pulled off his shirt and she discarded the hoodie, pulling her own shirt off with it.

Moving forward he crashed his lips into hers, pushing her gently down on the bed, doing his best to be quiet as he kicked off his sneakers. Pawing at his belt, the girl bit his bottom lip gently. He moaned softly and looked down at her- the hickey from five days ago still barely visible. He felt a tear roll down his cheek- five days ago when the world was beautiful and everything was perfect.

She pulled off her bra and leaned forward to kiss him again, her thumb wiping some of his tears away as she shed a few of her own. He pulled away momentarily to stand up and pull off her soft PJ pants and shed his own. Both bare to each other, physically and emotionally, he got back on top of her. He kissed the hickey and whispered, “I love you, Keri.”

“I love you too Toshinori...” she cooed as she lifted a leg around his waist. The man leaned forward, kissing her passionately as he slowly entered her, the only woman he’d ever been with like this, she felt like home.

The two of them quietly and passionately made love in her bedroom before climaxing together, tears in both of their eyes.

Toshinori hovered above her, panting and looking into her eyes, “You’re so beautiful... god I’ll never forget how you make me feel.”

She blushed and leaned up, kissing him again, “Want me to set an alarm and you can sleep in here with me until morning?”

He knew he should say no. He should start the process of pulling away. Being too busy, being unavailable. Preparing her for the day he would leave her life. But looking into those blue eyes, how could he refuse. He was so tired, physically and emotionally. Taking a deep breath he nodded, “I’d love that... here- let me get you some panties, and you can sleep in my shirt.”

Smiling she sighed, at the loss of him between her legs as he got up to go to her dresser. She picked up his black T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Kneeling before her he slid the panties over her plush thighs, leaning down to press kisses over them gingerly, “You’re so good to me...”

He smiled and pulled his boxer briefs back on before crawling into her bed, “We’ve never actually spent the night together.”

“It’ll be our first,” she kissed his jaw, yawning, “First of many.”

 She was so wrong and she didn’t even know it.

“Toshi- I didn’t get to tell you! I got into the school I applied to...”

He tried to look excited, even though he already knew, “Oh sunflower I’m so proud of you.” He kissed her softly.

“Now don’t forget, after graduation you have to work on getting your own agency!”

“H-huh?” He felt caught off guard.

“Remember our deal? You become a top hero with an agency and I’ll come work for you.” She gave him a smell smile.

“Oh- oh right- yes, yes of course.” He kissed her head, settling back down, “You know all I ever want to do is make the world safe for you, right?”

“Yes mister symbol of peace.” She smiled softly, closing her eyes.

“And you know I’d only ever do what was best for you?”

She felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she wanted to ignore it for now, “Of course.” She rubbed his chest, “Close your eyes and rest, baby, you’ve had a horrible week.”

He sighed and cuddled into her, holding her as the little spoon, “goodnight, honey...”

“Goodnight my hero.”