#laura: *deep inhale*

[holyghostbelle]

all those vile things

dannyjohnson!ghostface x reader blessed with quick wit and and a long list of medication your beginning to think being obsessed with a stalker couldn't be more healthier

09’

You lie back and smoke a cigarette, a bottle of jack in your hand spilling on the oversized band t-shirt you wore fished out from a thrift store from some tour you never got tickets for. Your eyes are glued to the tv, yet half interested in the House of a 1000 corpses movie rented out from blockbuster 2 months ago, There's ash on your notepad, not that you had taken any notes yourself, you take to sipping and gulping down any intoxicating beverage you can get your hands on these days, you're on the edge from the local killer.

(kind of, but not really you hope he stabs you with his knife and then licks it up, it's more of an excuse to get intoxicated and then pass out to an episode of dateline)

You rip open a pack of m&ms with your teeth and that guy from the office dies, his body is turned into a fish and you laugh maniacally as the dumb girls run into a room with another killer, and then Otis has corpse paint on and as much as his sideburns disgust you but you can't help feeling attracted to the guy, you feel sick at the thought of being oddly aroused but it's okay because its not real! and it's not like you fantasising about ted bundy or anything, but you did stalk the true crime tag on tumblr and find a bunch of fan edits with flower crowns.   You fall asleep on the sofa and then wake up at 3 in the morning. Moving to the comfort of your bed which is only 5 feet away from the small second hand cracked leather sofa, you toss and turn until you're stuck on your back, hands unable to grip the sheets as you watch black oozing from the ceiling, you imagine its sentient and can peer into your brain and witness how sick you truly are, and then you wake up and it's 8am, you go to college  in the clothes from last night, your laces are undone and you trip over them on the street while inhaling a cigarette and drinking a monster energy drink, it spills onto denim and leaves a small sticky wet patch.  

You fell asleep in your film studies class, seven different people had all chosen ‘twin peaks:fire walk with me’ to write an essay on. You laugh as they speak nonsensically about Laura Palmer and how the movie was more about discovering who she was than how she was murdered, it's all the same recycled garbage you said a year ago, back when your professor was that feminist guy. You picture Dale Cooper in a red room, you remember when the constant jokes from the simpsons, you think about Laura Palmer's cold blue body on the beach wrapped in plastic and then how david lynch left the show and it all became fucked up. Someone drones on about American psycho and how the murders were in his head. 

You leave class, smoke a cigarette outside in the parking lot and lean against your beat up car. Your cracked ipod nano plays Jeff Buckley and Elliott Smith simultaneously and then some 80s song you used to be so obsessed with and it reminds you of how your ex drove you home after you broke up with him, how his hand gripped yours and you didn't hold it back. You don't sob like usual. You don't think about how he was so angry he held your neck without squeezing, just to look you in the eyes and call you a bitch. 

You fidget with your dungarees and then drive to work. Leaning against the counter as you watch kids flick through comics and then flick though vinyls laughing at covers with girls with their huge tits out, and then looking at the r-rated movies with eyes and needles. Then leaving a mess and stepping out of the shop without buying anything. You steal a pack of gum from the display in front of you and change the cassette to the b side, you repeat this till it's 8pm and dark outside.

Then it's time to close up the shop, shutting the blinds, switching off all the lights, you close and lock the front door with the keys, and shove them deep into your pocket. It's a cold and icy night. You pull the vintage motorcycle jacket you stole from your ex around your shoulders and light a cigarette. Walking around the side of the shop deep into the alleyway to get your car from the employee car park behind all the shops, you stop in your tracks. Gravel kicking against the wall.

Theres a whine and a moan and you almost think someones fucking until you notice the trail of blood that leads exactly to the body in the corner, who ever it is put up a fight. There's a man clambering over him, a camera swinging to the side of his body as you watch him cut deep into his chest,his guts spill intestines falling out into the concrete like confetti, you hear it slap to the floor. You feel sick. 

The body looks at you  pleading and begging with its eyes and he moans, your eyes widen and the man with the camera looks directly at you, his masked face cocking to the side in curiosity, you shake and look over to your car which is and i say this lightly, funnily enough right next to the killer and his victim. Blood coating the exterior. Bloody streaks over the silver paint, you almost feel bad for yourself knowing how much it's gonna cost to clean the blood off your car. It's selfish really. Consider there a man choking on his own blood right in front of you.

You think about backing away and running…but you stand frozen and watch the man bleed out, his blood pouring out like an afterthought. White masked man snaps a photo, and then another he slashes at the victim's throat, the life drains quickly out of his eyes and you watch him take one last ragged breath as his eyes tell you to run as fast as you can. 

Then he turns his black eyes and gaping jaw keeping you in place, his leather gloved hand shushes at you as he approaches like a predator to his prey.

 You.

Your heart thumps against your chest. He pushes you to the brick wall, you whine at how harsh you hit it. He takes the cigarette out of your hand leather brushing against your coldfinger tips and presses it to your mouth. 

‘Go on, smoke it’ His voice is gravely and deep.

You puff on the cancerous stick, you picture him smiling under the mask. He stares at you through mesh eyes. Your hands are scratching at the brick wall behind you. 

How many minutes do you have left? Will he leave you to bleed, or watch?

Suddenly there's a knife against your throat. It's cold and unforgiving and you've forgotten how to breathe. It brushes to just under your chin and then it's tracing against your cheek, you whimper as it catches, a bead of blood rolling down, he catches it with his thumb and smears it on your lips, cigarette falling to the floor, smoke exhaling as your eyes tear up. Your eyebrows furrow, eyes closing ready to meet your demise, cunt throbbing, as you feel the air against your neck, you wait for it to plunge your hands tight around your coat.

“Are you going to kill me?” you whimper, the knife trails deeper, to your sternum and you feel hot breath on your neck, there's a sniff and the zipper of your jacket catches and it pulled down, you don't dare look waiting in anticipation, you feel you him unbuckle your dungarees the denim falling to your crutch and then your t-shirt lifts up there's a pause, cold against your skin, cold air and then the steel slices into you with ease, you feel yourself lean over and his hand pushes your head back into the wall until your upright. It tears through quickly soiling your clothes with red sticky blood.

 “If you're going to kill me, do it already” you whimper at him. His touch leaves you and you await for his hard hand to push the steel metal into you. It never comes.

Your eyes open slowly and he's gone, you stand for a minute and peek your eyes round the corner to stare at the body. Hand clutching at the wound he gave you, spanning four inches. Blood coating your hand.

You call the police obviously, you're questioned all night after you're all stitched up. you tell them about him approaching you, but not how he pressed his thumb to your lips and your cunt throbbed, you pretend it never happened. You pretend that you pushed him off and got scared, sparing you. 

They let you go at 12pm, an officer drives you back to your apartment, your crappy silver car is marked as a crime scene. You call up Adam and tell him you're not going to be in the next day due to the whole ‘stabbing incident’ he wishes you well.

You take two sleeping pills and drink the rest of the whiskey from the other night, you throw up at the thought of the body in front of you. The pills come up half dissolved with it. You fall asleep to a rerun of Criminal Minds and dream of Spencer Reid finding you tied up in the basement somewhere, 

He kisses you gently and combs back his horribly long parted greasy hair with his hand. He starts to recite a chapter of wuthering heights “'Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?”,  it turns to pure gibberish in your mind and you sigh at him as he takes your soft cheeks in his hands tenderly  lips tracing your neck in soft kisses and then he rips out your throat with his teeth, you bleed out all over the basement floor as he kisses your neck and revels with enjoyment in your blood. White pressed shirt soaked in maroon.

Your eyes open and you're stuck to your sofa, your tv flickers over and over, and the masked man appears within the metal box, the tv screen flickers in fuzzy blacks and whites. He's covered in blood and it's blackened with age.cavernous eyes and unhinged jaw. He taps against the screen and waves the knife in his hand. You pant against your leather sofa bare arms suck to the couch with sweat, itchy hot. His hand reaches outwards to pull himself out and then he's on top of you, his knife slicing through the flesh on your bare legs and chest as you're forced to endure it in your frozen state. You close your eyes as his arms lift to plunge the knife in deep, when they open the street lights flicker off through the window. mesh curtains drifting in the wind. 

You awake again a blanket thrown over your body haphazardly, your phone tells you it's 6 in the morning. You smoke a cigarette on your fire exit and watch the sunrise, you remember to not take sleeping pills with alcohol.

You look in the mirror and pick at the scab on your cheek, it drools with blood and you push it into your lips again, imagining it's his hand, you don't scold yourself this time, you tell yourself you'll never see him again. Then you lift your shirt and stare at the gash he left you, blood still smeared around the edges of the huge plaster they gave you at the hospital. You brush your teeth and spit out blood and teeth. When you blink all you see is the foamy toothpaste down the sink, you think you're going mad, its stress you tell yourself it's nothing to worry about. You open your wardrobe and black slime oozes out of it.

Your mom phones you at 8 before class, you tell her you're fine (your not)that you've been going to therapy(you haven't) that you've stopped drinking(likely chance)that that article she read on her phone was correct and you did see that killer that's been going round but your safe you promise( this is true, but your not safe, not even from yourself)

You head to college again and ignore the rumours going around about how you got stabbed by the killer, people ask about the scratch on your face and you tell them it was your cat that you don't own.

You go back home and cry at a video of a rat dancing in the rain, you scratch at the cut on your face until it bleeds again with your hand in between your thighs, stomach aching as you crumble into a shit position,you think about that night until you come over and over in your bed, sheets sticking to your body with sweat. You take a shower and close your eyes under the burning hot water, you catch your knee while using a cheap men’s razor shaving and watch the blood run into the water like psycho, you watch a western movie on tv, James dean rides a horse with a cigarette hanging out his mouth as he smirks in black and white. 

You don't take a sleeping pill that night and stare into the popcorn ceiling until you witness cosmic horror beyond your own belief, you face stares back at you and then its eyes are torn from its head, you watch a body be exsanguinated and then flayed and sewn back together again and blood is pumped back into your body, you see that boys body as a car drives past, the way the blood trailed down his neck like a red scarf.

You fall asleep to sirens and screams.

It is Florida after all

[thatfanficstuff]

Open Wounds - 24

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soulmate!Reader

Warnings: not really

A/N: I didn't even read through this. Sorry. One more chapter for this one.

You were curled up on your bed with your head in your dad’s lap while the two of you talked. Your time with him was coming to an end and you were spending every moment you could with him. He kept playing with your hair reminding you of when you were much younger and he’d done it to calm you when you’d had a bad day.

Bucky was off training with Steve and making the arrangements needed for him to take an indefinite amount of time off. You’d both be available if needed but you needed to recuperate and  build yourself back up and you needed your soulmate with you to do it properly.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your conversation. Clint stepped into the room with a soft smile. “How you doing, sweetheart? You look better.”

“Feeling better.” You bit your lip in thought before clearing your throat. “Can I…” Your voice faltered though you didn’t know why. Clint was unlikely to refuse you. “The farm. Can Bucky and I go for awhile?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on your arm. His nod encompassed his whole being as a smile lit his face. “You don’t have to ask,” he said. “It’s your home. You’re always welcome there.”

Once you’d gone over some of the details with him, he left you alone with Phil once more. It didn’t take long for him to clear his throat to break the silence. “I’m glad you’re heading to the farm. It’s time for me to return to my team. I was worried about leaving you.”

You reached up to take his hand in yours, squeezing it in acknowledgment. “I’ll be okay. They had months to get into my head. It’s gonna take a bit for me to get them out, that’s all.”

“I know, sweetheart. You’ll get there.” He ran his thumb over your fingers. “I put my number in your phone under ‘Senior’ if you need me.”

You snorted at the nod to Tony’s nickname for you. “I’ll always need you.”

“Good,” he said. “Don’t save all the calls for when you’re in trouble.”

He stayed with you until Bucky returned. You stood with your dad and gave him a lingering hug. Finally, he kissed your head and pulled away. “I love you, baby. Be good. Be happy.”

You watched him leave, your eyes burning with threatening tears. Having him leave so soon after getting him back hurt more than you’d anticipated.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. “You okay?”

You hummed with a nod. “I’ll be fine. He’s just heading back to his team. I’ll miss him. That’s all.”

He didn’t say anything to try to make you feel better. Instead, he just held you, lending you his silent comfort.

You took another week to say your goodbyes to everyone. You didn’t know how long you were going to be gone and you weren’t about to invite any of them to the farm. For one, it wasn’t your place. For another, it wouldn’t be much of a refuge if everyone knew where it was.

Clint had offered to fly the two of you out, but you and Bucky decided to drive. You played tourist along the way and let yourself unwind. Sometimes you’d drive for hours without stopping and others you’d hole up in a hotel room for a couple of days with your soulmate. For the first time in your life, you had no agenda. No need to keep busy, to keep to a schedule.

Almost two weeks after you left the city, you arrived at the farm. The gravel crunched beneath the tires of the car as it rolled to a halt, pebbles spitting in its wake. Stepping out of the car, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Tension flowed from you as you inhaled the familiar odors of home. It had been too long.

“Wow,” Bucky said as he came to stand beside you. “This is exactly what I picture when I think farmhouse.”

You snorted a laugh and turned to him with a smile. “Isn’t it though? I’m surprised we haven’t been swarmed by Bartons yet.” Laura and the kids must be out. You kept your gaze on the house in front of you while you gestured off to the left. “That’s my place over there.” Clint had built a little cabin on his land just for you, though you had been known to share with Natasha on occasion.

“Looks like you’ve got company, baby.” Amusement colored his words.

You turned toward your little piece of heaven and grinned at the sight that greeted you. Clint was there, leaning against your porch rail with his arms crossed over his chest, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Thought you might like some backup,” he said as you approached, his voice low and sure.

You paused before you reached him. This man, your family, he’d stepped away from his world of chaos to help stabilize yours. He wasn’t here out of some sense of obligation but because he’d never failed to love and support you when you needed it most.

You closed the distance and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you,” you murmured, meaning it for everything. For coming, for staying, for simply being there.

He kissed your temple. “Always.”

“Can we come out now?” A young voice called and you pulled back with a laugh.

A glance at the door showed the two oldest Barton children pressed against the screen. Laura stood behind them with a smile on her face and little Nathaniel in her arms. You opened your arms in invitation and your favorite kids burst through the door.

Cooper reached your first, slamming into you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Aunt Nikki, we missed you.”

Lila hugged your legs on your other side. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

You wrapped your arms around them and just enjoyed their selfless love for a moment. Laura made her way to you at a much slower pace and leaned over her children to give you a one-handed hug. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she said in a low voice, making you hug her tightly, being careful not to crush your youngest nephew.

When you released her, you quickly wiped away the tears under your eyes as you turned to Bucky as best you could with the kids still clinging to you. “Bartons, this is Bucky. My soulmate.”

“Really?” Lila gasped before instantly letting go and hurrying over to Buck. She held out a hand. “I’m Lila. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” All the adults smiled but bit back a laugh at her formal greeting.

Bucky bent over and took her hand in his. “The pleasure is mine.”

It took only about ten seconds for Lila to abandon the handshake and hug his legs instead.

Cooper wandered over but kept his distance. “I’m Cooper and that’s Nathaniel,” he said with a lazy wave toward his brother that was currently being passed over to you. You balanced the toddler on your hip. Bucky’s gaze softened as it moved between you and the child in your arms.

“I’m Laura,” the woman beside you introduced herself with a nod and a smile. Clint stepped up behind her and looped his arms around her waist. Once Buck returned her greeting, she looked back to you. “We aired it out and stocked you up on food. There’s a pot of stew on the stove.”

Warmth filled you at the display of love from your family. “You didn’t need to do all that, but thank you.”

“Sure we did. Well, we’ll get out of your hair and let you get settled.” She put her hands out for Nathaniel and you turned so she couldn’t reach him.

“Knowing you there’s enough stew for a week. You can get out of our hair after dinner.” You didn’t wait for a response as you walked into the house knowing the others would follow along soon enough.

A chill hung in the early morning air as you stood in living room of the farmhouse. A bleary Clint stepped into the room and said your name in confusion. With cold, lethal precision you ended his life in a blink. You barely twitched as you stared at the body at your feet. Moving swiftly through the house, you eliminated Laura next before moving onto the children. They didn’t even wake as you drove a blade into the back of their skulls.

Little Nathaniel was the last. You found him awake and playing in his crib. Arms reached for you as he garbled a version of your name. You stood in the doorway, fighting against the programming Hydra embedded in your brain. You were merely a passenger in your body as you picked up the little body and broke his neck before dropping him back into his bed.

A jolt of terror ripped you from the clutches of the nightmare, your breathing ragged and body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. The room was dark, quiet and far more peaceful than the scene that tortured you in your brain. Pulse racing, you tossed the covers aside and scrambled from the bed.

You grabbed one of the suitcases you’d just unpacked and started throwing clothes into it. Steady hands landed on your arms, stopping your frantic movements. “Easy,” came  Bucky’s sleep worn voice. He kissed the side of your neck. “What’s wrong, baby? What are you doing?”

“We have to leave,” you announced pulling away from him. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

Your chest heaved as you struggled against the chains that seemed to have tightened around your heart. Warm arms wrapped around you before you were lifted and carried backward to the bed. A moment later you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed with Bucky knelt in front of you.

He laid his hand along the side of your face and traced his thumb along your cheek. “Focus on me, baby. Inhale. Exhale. I’ve got you.”

You matched your breathing to his. As the frantic beating of your heart slowed, so did your scrambled thoughts. You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him as if he was the only thing that could save you. He held you back, whispering calming words and pressing soft kisses to your head.

When you finally sat back and wiped the remnants of tears from your eyes with trembling hands, he stayed on his knees looking you over with a furrowed brow and worried eyes. “You ready to talk?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I killed all of them. Even the baby. I couldn’t stop.”

His hands squeezed your knees gently. “Who are you talking about, baby?”

You closed your eyes and dropped your head. “Clint, Laura, the kids. It was a dream. I know it was but…What if it was more than that? What if I can’t fight what they did to me, what they put in my brain?”

Bucky hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head. “Look at me,” he said when you didn’t open your eyes. Once you’d done as instructed, he placed his hand back on your cheek. “You’re not theirs. You’re here with me. You’re safe. You’re stronger than them.”

Your breath hitched. “Am I?”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Strongest person I know.”

“Sure that’s not Banner?”

“Smartass,” he murmured before he hooked a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you to him for a quick but firm kiss to the lips. He rested his forehead against yours. “I know better than anyone what Hydra does to you. How they get inside and eat away at everything that makes you you. You’d never hurt your family. If I thought there was any chance I’d take you away from here in a minute.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He kissed your forehead then stood. He took your hand and pulled you to your feet before looping his arms around your waist. “You and me together can defeat anything. Even our own demons. Let’s go back to sleep, baby. Everything will look better in the morning.”

You let him get you settled under the covers and relaxed against him when he pulled you into his arms. Maybe he was right and in the light of day your life wouldn’t look fucked up. If it was, at least you and Buck could be fucked up together. With the thought you’d never be alone again with him by your side, you drifted back to sleep and didn’t wake until the late morning rays of sunlight fell across the bed.

[stratossphere]

tequila sunrises | j.k

johnny and tequila don’t mix well.

warnings: overall horribly drunken behavior, fluff

word count: 3.6k

— —

Liquor was one hell of a drug. It sounded funny, because most people would’ve argued that liquor was the safest alternative when it came to booze and narcotics combined, but most people hadn’t seen Johnny Knoxville after nine tequila sunrises.

You were partying after what had felt like years of doing press that none of you wanted to do, and with the promise of a free weekend without a single occupational obligation, everyone was going hard.

The bar you were all holed up in for the night was turning into a complete free-for-all. Chairs had been turned on their sides, Steve-O and Ryan had already been in two fist fights with Dave (turned Darf) joining in on the second, and everyone was so wasted that it was like talking to completely new people every time you interacted with the friends that you had arrived with.

However, there was one person who was acting just like he always did; just adding enough tequila to kill a small child into the mix to spice things up a little bit. Johnny had drifted from your side as the night had gone on, which was probably how he had managed to down nine drinks loaded to the brim with tequila without being cut off, and you had actually lost sight of him in favor of talking to Jeff.

“—which is like, the main reason why you shouldn’t have kids. I will literally go over to the Safeway across the street and get you a box of condoms if it means you won’t get Laura pregnant.” You were drunkenly relenting to him after he had offhandedly admitted that he and his girlfriend Laura had been thinking of having kids. You weren’t sure why your drunk brain was so against the idea, but your mouth was only as coherent as your brain, so you’d been on the topic for the past ten minutes.

“I feel like I should be recording this to play back to your happy accidents someday in the future.” Jeff snickered, finishing off the last of his beer and then glancing around behind you. Suddenly, you watched as his eyes stopped and his jaw dropped slightly. “Uh, have you checked on PJ lately?”

“Fuck.” You sighed, knowing by the look on his face that Johnny was doing something that you weren’t going to like. You saw that look a lot in bars where Johnny’s tab was on Paramount. You took a deep breath before you requested what exactly that something was. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s teabagging Bam’s forehead.” That had not even been close to what you had been expecting to hear, and you choked on the drag of your cigarette you had just inhaled when he spoke. You then immediately whipped around in your seat, and true to Jeff’s observations, Ryan was holding Bam down on a table of one of the booths behind you while Johnny literally stood over him with both dick and balls in hand.

“Oh my fucking god.” You shot out of your seat, ignoring Jeff’s cackling as you bolted across the space between you and the booth of debauchery. Johnny and Ryan were laughing too hard to be paying any attention to anything other than the ‘task’ at hand, but Bam’s eyes immediately sought yours in a desperate plea for help once he spotted you.

“Get them the fuck away from me!” He screamed, wriggling aggressively in Ryan’s iron grip as he tried to get away from Johnny. Jeff saying that Johnny was teabagging Bam wasn’t exactly accurate, because that would’ve implied that he was actually successful. In reality, he was so drunk that he couldn’t stand still enough to even get near Bam’s face, and every other second he was just managing to catch himself before he toppled right over.

Once Bam had called out to you, however, both of his attackers’ attention was immediately drawn in your direction, and Johnny’s eyes met yours about a millisecond before you were forcibly pulling him away from Bam by the back of his shirt.

“What the hell are you doing?” You snapped, giving him a glare that stopped his giggling in its tracks. It was bad enough that he was trying to teabag his friend (honestly, you had seen much worse, and really weren’t all that surprised), but you were in a crowded bar. With potential indecent exposure charges just waiting to stick themselves to the first person of the Jackass crew to whip out their dick for the night. You were drunk, but nowhere near enough to excuse public exposure.

“Uh…” Johnny smiled sheepishly when he trailed off, seemingly frozen in place where you had pulled him away from Bam and Ryan (who were now shoving and hitting each other in retaliation for Ryan’s actions against Bam). When you raised an expectant eyebrow, his sheepish smile turned into a wolfish grin. “Giving the people what they want!”

“Put it away. Now.” You warned, using your hand on his shoulder to angle him away from the rest of the bar so that no one else besides you was getting a clear-shot view of his dick. He groaned like a teenager who’d just been asked to clean his room, moving like he was going to try and get away from you. Your grip on his arm solidified. “PJ. You do it or I’m going to.”

“You can.” You hadn’t even realized how stupid that suggestion had been until he immediately jumped at the opportunity, a suggestive look on his face as he did so. But, nevertheless, you did exactly that, forced to let him lean his entire body against you so that he would stand still enough to let you get his zipper done up. Once you were successful and he was once more fully clothed, you took your cigarette out of your mouth and crossed your arms as you stared at him.

“I can’t fucking believe you. You can’t just walk around with your dick out in a crowded bar!” You lectured, noticing the way his expression stayed completely the same despite the fact that you were scolding him. His eyes had been trained blankly at the wall, but soon you watched them slowly drag from the top of your head all the way down to your feet, lingering on the low-cut collar of your shirt for a lot longer than what could be considered inconspicuous.

“Can you touch me again? Like in the bathroom or something?” His voice was so airy as he begged, you were almost surprised that it had come from the man standing in front of you. You deadpanned, because he was clearly trashed way beyond being a sensible, coherent human being, before pointing to an empty table. You couldn’t hold him on his feet forever.

“No. You’re too drunk.” You said as you coaxed him into sitting down, wincing at how hard he squeezed your hand when he grabbed it to give himself some support. He whined at your refusal, dropping his head down onto the table dramatically and still not letting go of your hand.

“But baby. I need you.” He protested, lifting his head just enough to look at you with a hopeful spark in his eyes. He was clearly just jonesing for your attention, and looked a little hurt when you pulled away to sit on the opposite side of the table from him.

“You just had your dick on my friend’s face. I’m not touching it.” You said with finality, almost breaking your glare when you felt him rubbing his foot on the inside of your thigh. Johnny Knoxville: actor, producer, and stuntman, everyone.

“It was just a little bit of my balls. He was being overdramatic.” Johnny whined, his voice slurred and just a little high-pitched as he clearly tried to convince you to go jack him off in the bathroom. Or right there in the booth, considering how bold his foot was getting on your thigh. Usually that was your move.

“Babe. Look at me.” You drew his attention before leaning out and tipping his chin up towards you with your thumb and index finger, forcing his complete focus onto you. “No.”

“But I’m really hard now!” If you hadn’t been looking directly at his face, you would’ve thought he was crying. He sounded so broken-hearted that it almost made you feel bad for him. Almost.

“How can you still get hard after drinking so much?” You sighed, a small frown pulling on your face as he attempted to reach out and steal your cigarette from you. He had a habit of dropping them when he was drunk. “PJ. Nuh uh.”

“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, as if you were being an asshole by keeping him from being a complete nuisance. As you tried not to laugh at his insolence, his eyes then sparked with an idea. “Can I sit in your lap instead?”

6’1, lanky Johnny Knoxville curled up in your lap in a bar booth seat. Sure, he’d actually done that many times before, but you were in a cramped space, and he was a messy drunk. You were already picturing him leaning back a bit too far and then falling right out of the booth while taking you right down with him.

“We’re in a bar.” You reasoned, motioning around as if he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. With the amount of alcohol he’d clearly consumed in such a short period of time, you actually wouldn’t have been surprised if he wasn’t. He shrugged like that made no difference to him, and you sighed. “Fine. You can sit on this side with me.”

“Yes!” He cheered like getting to sit in a grimy booth seat with you was the greatest gift he could’ve ever been given. You laughed and rolled your eyes as he dragged himself out of his side of the booth slowly, taking a second to let his bearings come back to him. “You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?”

“Keep your voice down. Someone’ll find out.” You teased, feeling a little bit of satisfaction run through you as he giggled at your stupid joke like a little girl. If you ever needed a pick-me-up, all you had to do was start telling even the lamest of jokes to a drunk Johnny Knoxville.

“I love you so much.” Once he was on his feet and had made it around to your side, Johnny practically fell in on top of you, ending up basically in your lap anyways with his arm thrown out haphazardly around you as he almost burned himself on your cigarette. Your back hit the wall at the end of the booth with the impact of his weight, and you groaned.

“Honey. Be gentle.” You complained, trying to stop him from rolling around too much in your lap. He settled slightly at your words, finding a final resting place with his head on your chest and his body draped over your legs.

“You smell so good.” He mumbled after a second, taking in a deep breath after he spoke to inhale the scent of your perfume. You laughed a little bit, glancing up momentarily and then noticing that Ryan and Bam were coming towards you. Not a smart idea considering what Johnny and them had just been doing, but to each their own.

“We are in a public bar. Can you not fornicate in the booths?” Bam drawled as he came within earshot, a deep frown settling on his face as he looked at you and Johnny. You smiled sourly, not even having to open your mouth to invite them into the other side of the booth before they were sliding in on their own.

“I think he’s had like, half a bottle of tequila.” You explained, shrugging it off and then raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Did you get tired of beating each other up?”

“Yes. We came to inform you that Jeff accidentally put his card down instead of the Paramount card, so he’s throwing a bitch fit at the bar. In case you’re interested.” Ryan announced, jabbing a finger back towards said bar where you could vaguely make out Jeff yelling at one of the bartenders. You motioned down to Johnny.

“I’m a little wrapped up.” Quite literally. You had a feeling that your ‘never-ending’ night of partying was going to have to be cut short soon before Johnny completely slipped into a liquor-induced coma. “Now would be your chance to teabag back.”

“Yeah, like I’m putting my balls anywhere near him.” Bam scoffed, shaking his head while Ryan shared an amused look with me. “Do you think I’m fucking crazy? He’s got a stun-gun in his back pocket.”

Upon checking, Johnny did in fact have a stun-gun in the back pocket of his Dickies. He was too drunk to even notice you pulling it out, and you gave Bam a ‘now stop complaining’ look as you dropped it down on the table in front of him before taking another drag off your cigarette.

“I don’t know if I should be giving that to you considering you’ve been drinking, but whatever.” You snickered, talking over Johnny’s sleepy groan at being touched. He wrapped his arms around you tighter then, and you let out a small exhale when he basically squeezed the air right out of you. Jesus Christ, he was strong.

“Sweet! I wonder if you can electrocute someone through their beer bottle.” Ryan immediately snatched the stun-gun off the table before Bam could even make a move for it, and you silently regretted your decision. Alcohol and weapons had never been a good mix, but with the Jackass crew, it was kind of a given.

A shoving match ensued between Bam and Ryan over the gun, which resulted in the table being jostled, pulling an irritated sigh out of you. You loved your friends (and boyfriend) to death, but sometimes they were a huge fucking handful. It was hard to believe that they were all truly adults with fully-formed brains. It just didn’t seem real.

“Hey, Y/n, I’ll give you fifty bucks to let me taze you.” Ryan still had the gun, and was now looking at you with a wickedly eager look plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes at him, jabbing a finger towards the rest of the bar.

“You’d have to pay me a lot more than that. I bet Steve-O’ll do it for 25.” You pointed out, knowing that he’d actually probably do it for 10. If you wanted painful entertainment, he was definitely your guy. Bam made a face.

“Dude, you gotta take him home. Or like, give him a bump or something.” He said, pointing towards Johnny with a slightly unnerved tone in his voice. You glanced down at your boyfriend, only to see that his eyes were closed and his head had moved to dangle off of your side with his mouth wide open. You sighed, sharing a ‘can you fucking believe this?’ look with Ryan as you gently nudged Johnny.

“PJ, honey. Get up so we can call a cab back to the house.” You prompted, ignoring his groan of protest when you woke him out of what was a clear attempt at being done with his night. When he didn’t budge, even after you shoved him lightly, you gritted your teeth in frustration before putting your cigarette out in an empty pint glass and nudging him with your knee. “Philip John Clapp. Let’s go.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Johnny snapped, looking deeply offended that you’d just called him by his full, legal name as his eyes finally snapped open at your prompting. Bam and Ryan were both snickering as he fought his way out of the booth after you had coerced him into doing so, stumbling a little bit when he stood and then grabbing your shoulder harshly to hold himself up. “Fucking ridiculous. We just got here.”

“We’ve been here for like, six hours, dude.” Bam laughed, watching you struggle to wrangle Johnny in as he did absolutely nothing to help you. Fucking typical. Johnny just brushed him off, shooting a consistent dirty look at both him and Ryan as you finally got him fully out of the booth and away from the table.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, or if you can’t make it back to your hotel room and you just want to come back to our place.” You said breathlessly to your two friends, blowing them both a kiss and then promptly alost getting pulled down by your trashed boyfriend, who was basically crawling all over you. They both called out their half-assed goodbyes, probably more focused on getting even drunker now that there was the option to come back to Johnny’s house than actually seeing the two of you off.

“We’re gonna snuggle when we get back, right?” Johnny asked as soon as they were out of earshot, head basically resting on top of yours as he spoke in his high-pitched, whiny voice. You were waving your goodbyes to everyone else in the bar at the same time as you walked, and you could see everyone’s amused looks at Johnny’s state as you dragged him along after you. You sighed, a hint of a grin on your face.

“Sure, baby. If you make it that far.” You agreed, wincing when he took your hand and squeezed tightly. You were trying to enjoy your time while you could, because you knew the only thing worse than black-out-drunk Johnny was hungover Johnny, but he wasn’t exactly making it easy. “PJ. You have legs.”

“Don’t even need ‘em.” Johnny slurred through a snicker whilst continuing to drag his feet, leaning back lazily and giving you a proud grin as he looked down at where you were basically holding him up. “You’re so fucking strong.”

“Thanks.” You grumbled, finally making it out to the sidewalk outside of the bar and sighing in relief. The least you could do was take a couple minute break before you hailed a cab and had to deal with getting him inside on top of everything else. “Sit down for a little bit.”

“You gonna sit in my lap?” Oh, how the tables turn. He collapsed right down onto his ass before you could even answer, one arm catching the belt loop of your jeans and yanking you down along with him. You had consumed considerably less alcohol than him, but you were still drunk, so it didn’t take much for you to go right down with him.

“Ow, you fucking asshole. Warn me.” You complained as you felt his belt buckle stab right into your lower back, one arm shooting out behind you to grab his shoulder so that you didn’t go tumbling over to the side. He just wrapped his arms around you and squeezed hard enough to make you wince. Again.

“Shh.” He cooed, tucking his chin onto your shoulder before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Don’t be such a pouter.”

“I’m gonna tell you that when you yell at me for talking to you when you’re throwing up tomorrow morning.” You pointed out dryly, giggling when his scruff tickled your neck as he continued to press kisses to your skin.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I’ll be a good girl tomorrow. Promise.” He crooned sleepily, finally ceasing his kissing attack to rest his head heavily on your shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.” You snorted, letting him lace his fingers with yours once more and feeling relief when he only held your hand gently. “Guess what. Jeff wants to have a baby.”

“Tremaine makin’ babies!” Johnny guffawed at the idea right in your ear, leaning back slightly as he laughed his ass off. Once he finished his giggling session, his head was immediately back on your shoulder. “You and I should practice makin’ some babies.”

“Can you wait until we’re not sitting on the street, you psycho?”

[wr1ghtstuff]

The New Woman

Summary: Theres a new professor at a your college that you’ve just enrolled in, except you didn’t expect her to be this hot- oh, and Alex Vause.

Alex Vause / Laura Prepon x female reader

PART 1 🫶

———————————————————————

The second day of a brand new college.

New friends. New surroundings. New life essentially.

After three missed alarm calls and a rant from my mother on how I should have my shit together by my big age, I chucked on whatever clothes I could find in my wardrobe (that you could somewhat call an outfit) and headed straight to college and got on the bus in a flame of bulge.

After a boisterous and painful Monday, sat surrounded by rich freaks and bitchy girls, I was considering if college was even right for me. It was like some form of dystopian hell in there- a fresh room with a fresh tutor is a fresh start again, right?

It had to be better than yesterday- surely?

Checking the time on my phone in a panic, my heartbeat felt like it was slamming itself against my skull whilst the oxygen invaded my trembling lungs with each inhalation. At the thought of being behind everyone, I blush out of worry and pick up my pace before approaching the new mysterious room with my group of friends just after 10.30.

I couldn't be late for a new teacher- what sort of first impression is that!?

I throw in impulsively to my friends how much I didn't even want to come in to today's lesson through a clenched jaw as I thought of our main tutor and how she treated our class.

I shoulder my way into the room taking deep breaths and fiddling with the skin on the ends of my fingers as I scanned the room for the perfect place to sit before we settled in and selected our seats in the room.

Great. The only seats left are ones right by the board and the main bigger and black chair.

Why oh why do we always get the crap seats near the teacher!?

After a few minutes of my internal panic, I was relived to see that the lecturer hadn't arrived yet and seeing the rest of my class group lively and chatting to each other.

With relief, I turn and look at my friend (who was sat across from me on our table) through deep breaths to try and calm me down, as we started talking and laughing about some random shit we had just thought of whilst waiting for whoever our new lecturer was to turn up.

Smiling constantly, I had a good feeling about today despite the ghastly start to my day.

My friend Christie bellowed something hilarious from some TikTok or something sending us all into a fit of laughter until the tears actually started forming in our eyes.

God, how could I love these people so much in such a short space of time.

I glanced at the clock that stood strong above the projected board and notice that it was already 10.36.

Where was this woman?

Composing ourselves as we saw a tall figure shadow it's way around the corner, she stood bright but stressed as she slowly opened the door that moaned on its hinges and then entered our room carrying a pile of notepads and her laptop which she obviously couldn't fit in her under filled tote bag.

Speak of the devil.

I turn to the same friend that had just made me nearly piss myself with laughter as we lock our eyes in some sort of joint joy sensation and a gleaming smile soon spread wide across our faces.

In does not slouch the middle aged woman with grey hair and a long teacher style dress we all anticipated.

My gaze widens fully towards her and I subconsicously straighten my back, leaning forward in the seat in anticipation for something that I just couldn't form into words.

Dumbfounded, I trail my enervated eyes over the new female creature that had just entered the room like I was scanning for something. She was noticeably in a rush and was flustered, hence her slightly red cheeks.

There could be no simple explanation why this woman looked the way she did.

Her brunette bangs shook freely at the top of her head and trailed down either side of her face. They shone bright in the little bit of light that fought its way into the room making her look unearthly. I swallowed hard even though my throat was bone dry as my eyes roamed over her body once more.

A checked grey blazer, black suit trousers and doc martens. Could it be, oh my god?

I inwardly scream, feeling my stomach drop a few metres downhill. My entrancement abruptly comes to an end after a hard shove in the side fights against my body, making me subtly loose my balance as I turn and see the deadly glare from one of the girls next to me in a mischievous smile.

"Oh, stop it Y/N," my friend Elizabeth chuckled “I can almost see your lady boner from here”. I turned to her in a panic and see that she is giving me the look. Not just any look- the one to imply that I was in a different world and I wasn't going to live this moment down.

I quickly reinforce my stance I had before the woman entered the room after realising I was now slouched across my table with a form of drool leaving the side of my lip. I rapidly sat up as if nothing had happened and put on the usual composed and interested face.

The woman put her tote bag and her pride month edition 'Kanken' bag on the front table and then leaned against it whilst waiting for a silent order to come from the class.

"Okay, sorry about the late entrance everyone but my name is Miss Vause and I will be teaching you your skills for this project...."

In response, my stomach began to flutter slightly making me press my hand against the new uncomfortable feeling.

I couldn't even care what was coming out of her mouth, her emerald green eyes gleamed with every word she spoke, complimenting the dimples on either side of her smile.

"Oh. my. god," Christie mouthed from across the table resting her head in her palms whilst the smile still spread joyfully. "She is wow; Y/N, I don't even know what to say."

All I needed to care about at this point was trying not to show the unholy amount of dribble coming from the side of my lip in awe.

Whist Miss Vause was speaking, I opened up my laptop with sweaty palms as my heart started to pound against my chest even harder. My cheeks transfigured into a rosy bed of redness almost out of embarrassment and my voice got softer and warmer with every word.

As the hour went on, her voice became softer out of nerves and her smile grew more forceful before running her hand through her hair reshaping her bangs.

"Miss Vause, I have no idea how to use photoshop," Haz (a classmate of mine) mentioned as she finished her sentence. "Would you be able to help me?"

I had never been so jealous of that man in my life.

———————————————————————

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Fic: Injured but In-Charge Scully (Poll Results: 1st)

This list was inspired by this poll, winning by a ~3% margin.

**NOTE**: I have a ton of Scully-In-Charge fics in my other fic list Creepy and Cozy Cabins, which includes the works of @discordantwords, @sarie-fairy, LuvTheBeez’s Snow (a personal favorite), and Karen Rasch’s By the Wind Grieved. Anyway, onward!

Loose chronological order below~

30xf's Young At Heart - Chapter 1

""How's the ribs?" Mulder asks, returning from the door with a large pizza box in his hands and setting it on the coffee table.

"Better," Scully sighs, stretching out and making herself comfortable on his couch. "I can almost take a deep breath without it feeling like someone's stabbing me."

"Well that's progress," he allows before disappearing into the kitchen. He had intended to grab plates and cutlery, but of the three plates he owns, only one was clean. And not having plates makes the cutlery a little useless. After a quick search for napkins turns up nothing, he remembers why they usually eat at Scully's place."" 

Post Young At Heart Scully is recovering and fending off Mulder from further poking her bruised ribs.

@spooky-nerd’s (Ao3) A Minor Inconvenience

""He is afraid to touch her and yet, illogically, touching her is the only thing that will quell the panic that is slowly building inside of him, bubbling up into his throat and making it hard to breathe. His fingers brush the side of her face gently, and her eyes flutter. His heart does a nauseating flip.

"Hey," he says, in case she can hear him, rubbing her cheekbone lightly with his thumb. "Hey, you're okay. You're gonna be okay," he says as much to himself as to her. He hopes she can't feel how hard his hand is shaking.

Her eyebrows draw together, etching painful lines into her forehead. She inhales sharply and cracks an eye open. "Ouch," she rasps.""

AU S3? Mulder realizes he loves Scully after she gets rag-dolled by a psychic. She wakes up, asks if he's okay, then starts listing her symptoms. He drops an "I love you" after that.

Donna’s Without a Trace

"I'll get a rock. I don't think that lock will be too much trouble."

She nodded and stepped onto the porch to look closer. "I think it's already broken," she said over her shoulder and tried the door. The sound of the gun going off paralyzed him for an instant, then he was racing to her as she lay on the weathered wood of the porch.""

AU S3? Mulder and Scully wake up on isolated train tracks with amnesia. They quickly rebuild trust and scavenge for a way back to civilization-- unfortunately, the first shelter they find is very booby-trapped; and Scully has to guide Mulder through a bullet retrieval.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys's

Lucky Ones

""Slowly opening her eyes, she searched the room for some kind of clue that she was actually alive. A moment late, she focused in on the body wedged painfully in a chair against the wall.

Choosing that moment to check on Scully, Mulder met her gaze and held it for a moment before sliding out of the chair, trading for a more comfortable spot on the side of the bed. Lowering himself carefully onto the mattress, he spoke softly, "sleeping beauty awakes."

"More like came off the pain medication," she answered back in a hoarse whisper.""

Scully is shot cleanly through the shoulder while protecting a little boy. Miraculously, his head was never hit-- though it should have been.

Your place or mine - Chapter 3

""Did they really have to end the case with a dead kid, a burned out house, a bullet wound and a desperately long de-briefing?

By the time they stumbled up to Scully’s door at half past three in the morning, they hadn't slept in three days and Mulder was so stressed and tense, he threw their bags to the ground and slammed the door shut hard enough to knock the mirror hanging beside it to the floor. The resounding smash left mirror shards strewn from the front door through to the kitchen. Scully would have yelled at him if she hadn’t been wincing at the pain in her upper arm from the through and through gunshot and if she had the energy to care.

She did not.""

Mulder hunkers down with a recovering Scully, continuing their inside joke of "love is--"; and barrels her out of the bed when Maggie drops in unexpectedly.

Foul Ball

""You don’t want to hear the story?”

Wincing when she shifted her shoulders, “first I want out, then you can tell me all about your time in the slammer and why baseball games are fun to go to.""

Dating-- Scully is knocked over by an aggressive baseball fan; and is driven home later by Mulder (after he pummels said fan, gets jailed, then bailed out by Frohike.)

@baronessblixen’s (Ao3)

Unnamed

""Mulder reacts before he even knows what is going on. There against the wall, pinned up high, is Scully. A large, fat hand around her throat keeps her there, strangulates and chokes her. Her feet dangle in the air, try to kick and fight. 

“Let her go!” Mulder’s yell reverberates through the room and the intruder turns to Mulder, bares his dirty, yellow teeth like an animal. His hand opens, lets go of Scully, who slips to the ground. Thump, only once; a sad sounds swallowed by the carpet.""

S5 Mulder is horrified that Scully was attacked and almost killed by a random serial burglar in the motel room right next to his.

Fine (Ao3)

""You’re not carrying me.” The way she says it leaves no room for negotiation.

“Then how are you planning on getting back?”

“I’ll walk,” she says, hopping on one foot.

“Let me help you, please,” he begs her. “Just… let me make sure you don’t break your other ankle, too.”

“It’s not broken, Mulder.”

“Potato, potahto.""

Mulder and Scully are still dating, and Scully still gets another leg injury.

Twisted

""Scully!" She hears the breathless desperation in Mulder's voice and the rustling sound his boots make, running through the leaves surrounding them.

"I'm fine," she yells back, hoping he'll slow down. If they both fall and hurt themselves, then how are they going to get out of here?""

Scully falls down a hole and twists her ankle; and Mulder ditches the search party to carry her back to the car.

"You're okay, I promise" (Ao3)

""It hit her,“ Mulder screeched, “He hit her!“

Scully didn‘t know what ‘it‘ was, or who ‘he‘ was. Maybe ‘it‘ was the thing that was gripping her head violently, squeezing it as if it were an orange.""

Scully, dazed, falls to the ground after being clubbed with a baseball bat; and listens to Mulder make a big racket until he is allowed to run over and provide moral support.

Fictober Day 26 (Ao3)

""I’m too heavy for you. Let me down. I’ll try to walk myself.”

“Scully, you weigh next to nothing,” he assures her. “Good thing I didn’t hurt myself this time, huh? Though you’d probably try to carry me anyway.”

“I would,” she says, smiling softly.""

S6 or S7 Mulder and Scully may be dating, but that won't prevent her from getting a leg break in the forest.

Prove It

""I have a headache,” she says, swallowing her standard ‘I’m fine’.

“Let’s get you back to the motel.”

She should have known he wouldn’t leave her alone once they get back. His hands are on her as soon as she’s out of the car. His concern, while exaggerated, is sweet, and she smiles up at him.

“Now that’s what I like to see,” he mumbles, his own lips curling into a smile."" 

Post Theef Scully lets Mulder care for her.

There's No Place Like Home

""You should get checked out at a hospital. I can drive you.”

“No,” she says, picking up speed to prove her point to him. “Look, I’m fine. I just need to walk it off.” He loves her stubbornness. Once, she told him that she fell in love with him because he was stubborn. Well. That was the pot calling the kettle black. No one is as stubborn as his Scully. Any other day, he finds it cute. When she refuses to budge because she knows how things should be done, he admires it. But when she’s hurt, hobbling away from him, holding her side and grimacing, just so she can appear invincible, he can’t accept it.""

Revival Scully is banged up from her garbage chute tumble; and Mulder is thrilled when she asks him to drive her home. This leads to a discussion about how much they missed each other.

Jodithann827/DrDanaScullyX's How to Save a Life

""It hurts to breathe Mulder. Short. Of Breath.”

“Do you think you can make it to the entrance? I wasn’t kidding about carrying you,” he replies.

“I… Mul…,” is all she’s able to get out before shaking her head, suddenly knowing something is very, very wrong.

“The bullet didn’t penetrate the vest, did it, Scully?” He's already moving his hands back to where the bullet hit the vest. She shakes her head. “No blood,” she replies. Mulder lets out a deep breath for the both of them and looks longingly in the direction they came.

“Mulder, something isn’t right,” she whispers, and Mulder snaps his head towards her."" 

Post Folie a Deux Scully's vest stops a bullet; however, the impact causes air to build and pressurize in her lung. Mulder has to perform an emergency "puncturing" procedure (with her guidance) to save his partner's life.

Vickie Moseley 's Split Seconds

""Why wasn't his door locked? He pushed it open cautiously, his gun already in his hand. He saw movement and the flash of metal. Whoever was here was armed. He saw the movement toward him and the sight of metal being raised. No! He fired two shots as he threw himself to the side. Mulder heard him fall and rose carefully to his feet. He flipped on the light and froze.

"Scully?" A whisper, then he was beside her, frantically searching for her vital signs. "Scully!" This time was a cry as though to call her back to him. No pulse, he ripped her blouse open. Blood, too much blood. ...what had he done? He was performing CPR, nothing. Nothing! "Scully." This one was a sob. She was gone; he'd really killed her time. No dream. He pulled her up against him, but her arms didn't go around him and never would again. Never. Time disappeared as he held her.""

AU-- Post Tithonus Mulder shoots Scully, kills her, and goes crazy. Scully is able to heal anyway and talk him down from madness despite her injury.

Oracle's (TheOtherSide) Deluge (Gossamer)

""She is trembling, shivering, and doesn't speak. He stands quickly and pulls her to her feet, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Scully?"

When she looks up her face tilts towards a streetlight, allowing him to read a bleak horror in her expression.

"Scully," he says, clasping her shoulders, leaning close to her. "Scully, it's okay. I'm okay." He hears a dull, shaky edge to his voice when he speaks, but can't help it.

"I know, Mulder," she replies, seeming calmer, the pain fading from her eyes.""

AUish? Post One Son Mulder almost loses himself in a brutal case, barely being saved from traffic by Scully (who had flown in last minute after recovering from a recent injury.)

@mappingthexfiles/Apostrophic’s Agua Mala

""The infection wasn’t severe, it should only last a few days, but it meant Mulder trailed after her into the kitchen, a shadow she’d acquired with her temporary impairment.

He folded his hands and laid his head atop them, then pointed at her. Had she slept, or would she sleep? One or the other.

“I’m fine,” Scully said, covering all the bases. “And I can still hear you. Mostly.""

Post Agua Mala Scully has a bad cold resulting in hearing loss. Mulder brings a bad movie and jokes to ease her recovery.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's

mondays on an endless loop (Ao3)

""She doesn’t speak, but her eyes are surprisingly alert; her leg is moving, off to the side, and he’d like nothing more than to hold her, to try and help her. “Don’t move too much,” he tries, moving a few inches closer, hoping Bernard isn’t watching. “It’s okay.”

Scully grunts, very pointedly, and he sees her leg moving again. He looks down to her foot and sees what she is doing: she’s sliding her gun over towards him with her foot. Bernard forgot to get it.""

Monday-- Mulder and Scully alternate "getting shot" days; when it's her turn, she uses quick thinking for his sake even though she's dying.

bearing north

""She tastes blood in her mouth, maybe from where she fell. She drags herself off of the ground, wincing at the pain in her head. The suspect’s footfalls are far away now, from where she was shoved down into the empty pool. She touches the sore spot where her head smacked the concrete and hisses with pain.

“Scully!” Mulder’s voice, echoing frantically from somewhere above her. His dress shoes pounding the stairs of the pool. “Scully?”

“I’m here,” she croaks, pushing herself into a sitting position. Nausea clogs up her throat and she swallows it back, blinks owlishly in the dark as Mulder approaches her.""

Revival Scully is banged up while pursuing a bad guy. Mulder helps her out of a pool, and takes care of her back at the UH.

Athene's Learning to Share

""Scully inhaled deeply, and then resolutely met his eyes. "I have a low-grade concussion, and a horrible headache." She paused, then went on, voice just slightly rougher. "If it hadn't been for you, Mulder, I think I'd be dead." Forcing back a reflexive dread at disclosing weakness, she kept her gaze on his eyes, and saw a glow begin in his eyes as her answer registered. She reminded herself again that the reward for her unaccustomed emotional transparency was greater intimacy with this man.

Mulder quite obviously reveled in her newly overt trust. He slowly extended his left hand, touching her forehead lightly with his fingertips, and gently swept a few strands of stiff, blood-sodden hair away from the cut.

"That would have made two of us dead," he whispered in an odd, hoarse voice.""

Post Millennium Scully blocks most of a baseball bat weapon, but still has a concussion. She is amused that Mulder is ogled by the patients and nurses in the ER; but her amusement dries up when Maggie nails her on the relationship she shares with her partner.  

@alienbaby-babymama/ABBM515‘s Smart Enough

""It came in threes this month. Not only was Scully down for the count with the flu and a sprained ankle from running after Mulder who was chasing an unknown entity through the dank woods in the early morning hours, but it was also her time of the month.

Dana Scully was miserable."" 

Dating-- Scully has a triple "injury"; and Mulder is both amused and mother-henning her at the same time.

@wexleresque/hllsteeth’s Fictober 2021 - Chapter 16

""Her injury isn’t his fault, per se, but it feels like it is since he’s the one that opened the case that had sent them out into the forest in the first place. Scully had been climbing a tree, ascending higher and higher and wiggling between branches in search of evidence she’s suspected a killer had been hiding at the top.

It might have been her shoes- heels that were admittedly impractical for tree-climbing -or a distraction in the form of an animal making noise in a nearby tree. It might have just been a plain old accident. Regardless, something had caused Scully to miss a branch by just a fraction of an inch, sending her crashing through the canopy of the forest. She’d landed with a crunch and a scream, a sound that has brought bile to the back of Mulder’s throat every time he’s remembered it in the last twenty-four hours.""

Dating-- Scully breaks her leg after a fall from a tree; and Mulder helps care for her cantankerous self, using saran wrap to cover her cast so she can shower.

@jewish-mulder/@anders-hawke/@iwtbscully/BananaChef‘s 

Us

""He rushed into her hotel room with the force of a tornado, per Scully’s words as she relays his mindless pursuit of her beside.

“You could’ve died!” Mulder says, a tortured look on his face.

She rolls her eyes and looks at the stark white ceiling. “I’m fine, Mulder.""

Dating-- Scully's newest injury require forehead stitching. It rattles Mulder more than her.

@scullyphile​‘s (Ao3) Unnamed

""I’m OK, Mulder, really,” she offered in her calmest voice, but her hand was still touching the spot where the ball had struck.

“Josh,” the young male teacher called, “what did I tell you? Go get the ball and apologize to the lady.""

Dating-- Scully gets hit in the head with a tennis ball while on a museum date with Mulder.

Lapsed_Scholar’s Variations - Chapter 3

""If only her body would be so acquiescent. Her nausea was better, but she was starting to feel light-headed again. This ultimately annoyed her. There was nothing wrong with her (there wasn’t), and she expected her body to obey her.

She walked (only a bit unsteadily) over to a chair at the terminal and sat down. Oh, yes, much better. She took deep, calming, surreptitious breaths. She could do this. Just wait for the darkness encroaching in her peripheral vision to pass....

The floor was at an odd angle. She tried to make sense of this, opened her eyes a little more. Oh. Must have passed out. Again. Fantastic. How humiliating.""

AU Requiem Scully INSISTS on going back to Bellefleur with Mulder, ignoring his mandates and silent pleadings. Unfortunately, she embarrasses herself by collapsing in the airport and scaring her partner to death. (This is a comedy; and it is amazing.)

WildwingSuz/Suzanne Feld's Existessence

""I glared over at Mulder, who had set his gun on top of the dresser and was leaning against it. “I don't believe you,” I snapped at him. “You kidnapped this poor woman out of her house?!”

“What was I supposed to do?” he said plaintively. His eyes followed Alma Jackson as she went into the small bathroom then we heard water running, and she returned drying off her hands with one of the cheap white motel towels which she tossed back into the smaller room. “I can't deliver our baby alone, Scully, I was terrified that I'd screw it up and hurt either or both of you.”

“Ya coulda just come told me you needed a midwife, ya didn't need t’shove that gun in m'face,” Alma said succinctly. I found myself liking and trusting her more and more by the minute.""

AU Essence Mulder swipes Scully from her apartment and drives them out to a motel in the middle of nowhere. His next brilliant idea: kidnapping a midwife last minute.

TheAddict4Dramatics's Enough

""I couldn’t stop thinking about this morning.” Scully said suddenly, breaking the gentle silence that Mulder had been enjoying. Her voice was tight now and her eyebrows were drawn low over her eyes. “When he pulled the gun and I thought he was going to shoot... I couldn’t stop thinking about this morning and you and Will waving me off from the doorway.” 

“It’s okay.” He soothed, stroking his fingers over her hand. She’d started crying again and it was breaking him. 

“It’s different now than it was before. I have so much more to lose!"" 

AU S9 Scully is injured while on duty with Doggett; and she sorrowfully recounts the events and her realizations to Mulder (after peeking in on her little baby boy.)

Girlie_girl7’s Day in the Life 39 - Super Bug

""She seems to have developed a blister on her heel."

Mulder frowns behind the mask and looks at the broken blister. "The first time I talked to her she mentioned that she was going to change her shoes.

"NF can enter through a wound or weakened skin. This is no doubt the point of entry." ...

"Will it continue to infect her?" Mulder questions as he looks at Scully's face.

"We hope not but NF does tissue damage at the subcutaneous level and it's hard to judge just how much damage there actually is.""

AU S9 Scully has a big family with Mulder; but tragedy still strikes-- this time in the form of an infectious blister that turns deadly rather quickly.

Nonspecific Timeline

@purrykat/mylifeinshadow’s Prompt #6: "I can't breathe"

""All at once, it comes back to you — the suspected psychic who turned out to be just your garden variety psychopath, the pursuit, your partner’s voice sounding far away as a gun appeared in your peripheral vision, the bulletproof vest you’d had the forethought to strap yourself into. The sigh of relief leaves you sputtering against warm, wet lips. Mulder. His body covers yours as he attempts to resuscitate you needlessly. You’d blacked out; clearly had the wind knocked out of you, and in typical Mulder fashion, he’d panicked.""

Scully is knocked down on duty; and Mulder almost comedically crushes her trying to help.

@ghostbustermelanieking​/skuls‘s (Alt. Ao3) 

Unnamed 

""Mulder lay on the floor inches away from her, his mouth half-open, gasping on air. His mouth formed the first syllable of her name, soundlessly. Near them, the feet of strangers pounded the carpeted floor, every footfall reverberating through her body like nails on a coffin.""

Scully and Mulder are gravely injured; and she reaches for his hand just before they pass out.  

in another world - Chapter 7 

""A smile spreads involuntarily across her face. “Mulder, you’re an idiot,” she rasps, and he laughs so hard that he cries."" 

Dating?-- Scully shoves Mulder out of harm’s way, taking a bullet for him. During her recovery, she keeps the mood light and teases Mulder out of his guilt.

Lovesfox's Close Call

""The liquid that had dropped on him, and most likely what he had thought was condensation on the rungs, wasn't water or oil.

It was blood.

"Scully?" Mulder gasped out, and stopped in his tracks, clinging to the ladder. The word echoed slightly in the shaft, for he had spoken louder than he had intended to with his shock. He cringed - expecting to hear a barrage of gunfire, or perhaps a voice shouting out detection.

"Scully, you're bleeding," he tried then, in a voice just above a whisper, when nothing happened.

"I know," Scully replied faintly, and sucked in a noisy breath. "Not much...we can do about it right now," she said next. "We've got to...get out of here.""

Mulder and Scully are escaping from a set up-- unfortunately, Scully has been shot in the side. She fades on their journey back through the woods, and Mulder puts his spare medical techniques to use.

@scullysexual/PostApocolypticAlien's

100 days of 100 word - Chapter 31

""Scully is trying to yank her arm out of his grasp.

“Mulder, it is fine,” she is insisting through clenched teeth.

“Just humour me, Scully.""

Mulder makes sure that Scully gets her injured arm tended to by EMTs (despite her protests.)

the_eternal_optimist’s Distraction

""I don’t like them on in the middle of the night,” she told him petulantly, but he knew it was a lie because she usually left a few lamps on in her living room and kitchen. “And I didn’t know you were back in town,” she added slowly. 

He could tell Scully was trying very hard not to fumble over her words. His delight faded at the thought and he reached towards her, beginning to grow concerned. But she took a step back, towards her bedroom. Because he was overtired and prone to dramatics when he’d been away from her for a while, a wave of panic crashed over him. Why was Scully trying to get away from him? Was she mad? Had he overstepped too much this time, showing up in the middle of the night? Had Skinner found out he was MIA and asked Scully to rein him back in?""

Mulder returns from a mandated trip, realizing that Scully hasn't called because she'd been injured on the job. He reiterates her importance in his life.

LuminousPie’s

Five Times Mulder Got Injured and One time Scully Did

""She feels like a rag doll at the moment, all loose-limbed and pulled in too many directions. She was sore too, her skin burning for an ice pack. She knew her hair was matted, coated in blood.... She sniffed it and recoiled. Someone placed a small bandage to the laceration on her chin. It wasn’t big, probably wouldn’t even scar but it was another war wound. One to add to the many she already carried.

She batted away an EMT and an overly fussy Mulder. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate him here, she did. Familiarity oozed out of every pore and she welcomed his comforting aesthetic. But she didn’t need his grief or his worry. She needed to patch up her walls and build them higher.""

While Mulder gets most of the injuries in this fic, Scully gets a small one at the very end. She's more annoyed with the EMTs than concerned about a possible concussion.

trustmescully's Bang Bang

""She's a fighter. Dana will make it. Just as she has always managed. She's not dead yet, Fox. Dana is alive. She lives and fights. Even if their injuries are severe and we can't do anything for them at the moment. You are absolutely not to blame. Don't blame yourself, please."

Images flashed in his head. They were images of horror. Blood.

Blood everywhere.

Scully's blood.""

Scully saves Mulder, getting shot in the process. Maggie comforts Mulder during surgery; and Scully banters the tears away when she wakes.

sixthfinger/spookyanthropologist/shadowkissedsoulmate's

I Think He Knows

""—lly! Scully! Can you hear me? Come on, Scully, wake up. Scully!”

There’s a hand pressed up against the side of her face. 

“Scully! Come on, come on!”

It’s definitely not her hand.

“Please, Scully.”

Oh. Mulder. It’s gotta be Mulder’s hand.""

Mulder and Scully suffer various injuries throughout the years; but in section iii, Scully is attacked in her autopsy bay. Mulder doubles back and helps her out.

Enjoy!

[the-final-sentence]

Top Final Sentences of 2022

 I was everything I needed.           Xoài Phạm, from “The Greatest Pleasure”

He helped me find what I truly craved and identify what had been there all along: an unwavering sense of self.         Jennifer Chowdhury, from “In Pursuit of Brown-on-Brown Love”

Such an old, old memory, why should it make me cry?         Lloyd Schwartz, from “The Two Horses (A Memory)”

“I love you,” he whispered again, against the top of her head.         Mary Balogh, from Thief of Dreams

And he paused, in the space between inhalation and exhalation, and invited magic in.          Freya Marske, from A Marvellous Light        

“Nothing I didn’t already know, deep down.”         Dante Medema, from The Truth Project

It was a fine cry - loud and long - but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.         Toni Morrison, from Sula

For just a little while more, I think, let me hide here.         Jonathan Robbins Leon, from “The Same Kind of Monster”

In search of, an approximation:            desire of, love of.         Iliana Rocha, from “Elegy Falling Forward & Down“

I still crave the comfort of a hand in mine, the warmth of being claimed in the daylight.         Laura Bogart, from “A New Kind of Heroine”

And it is you, it is you she is holding like an open book, well-loved, in her hands.         Eve Alexandra, from “Heroine”

We survived to whisper our names to each other even if we could not yet confess them to anyone else.         Anna-Marie McLemore, from “Roja”

And this is the story of how I am caught.         Margaret Owen, from Little Thieves

I’m trying to hold on to this rope, and I’m trying to let go.         Melissa Faliveno, from “Tied, Tethered, Unfettered, Free”

Imagine you don’t fit anywhere, not even in your own head.         Bassey Ikpi, from “What It Feels Like”

I look to the sky and feel her ghost.         Colton Haynes, from Miss Memory Lane

It would be nice if we could talk about how we went online, driven by some sort of longing, and why we stayed there, pushing that want outward, over and over, until it couldn’t be ignored.         Kaitlyn Tiffany, from Everything I Need I Get from You

Care tasks exist for one reason only… to make your body and space functional enough for you to easily experience the joy this world has to offer.         K.C. Davis, from How to Keep House While Drowning

I had become one of the people on the street who knew where he was going.         Andrew Rannells, from Too Much Is Not Enough

Until everything was sea and sky, and the falling was flying, and he realised he was laughing too.         Alexis Hall, from A Lady for a Duke

Under the wrack and wreck of what had come before, the sky was new, and I reached for it with a yearning eager hand.         Nghi Vo, from The Chosen and the Beautiful

My beating heart is still yours, the letter said, and I’ll be waiting for you.         Dana Schwartz, from Anatomy

It won’t last for long, but it’s beautiful for now.         Linda Oatman High, from December

She holds my hand as I leave them all behind.         Erica Waters, from “Stay”

And then I fall back into my sheets, still warm and crumpled, and close my eyes.         Alice Oseman, from “Hands Against Our Hearts”

[cellard0ors]

(A Full Deck Series one-shot that's been rolling around in my head for some time)

The year is 1994.

Travis is almost thirty years old. Chris is early into his twenties. It would almost be a funny thing...the fact Chris has fallen in love so deeply around the exact same age Travis did when he first fell in love.

Now, granted, once Chris turned seventeen he fell in love all the time. He has had a plethora of girlfriends. Travis has only had one...the one. Laura. The girl that got away. Or disappeared. Or...

Travis doesn't like to think of the last one. To be honest, at this point, he doesn't like to think of her at all. It still hurts too much. How can it still hurts so much?

But it does.

Regardless, he does his best not to think about it, not to talk about it. Yes, Travis does still tap into some off-the-clock detective work in her regard, but that's only to solve the mystery.

That's all.

...he doesn't...

He doesn't love her anymore.

That would be pathetic.

Especially if she just up and left him.

So, yeah - funny. Funny that the perpetually in love Christopher is now in his twenties and head-over-heels for a girl so much that he walks up to Travis's newly bought home and knocks on the front door hard and with grim set determination.

Funny as he looks Travis dead in the eyes and roughly asks, "Where is it?"

Travis, having just gotten off a twelve hour shift, is bone tired and in no mood to deal with Chris as he grumbles, "Where's what?"

"You know what!" Chris cries and shoulders past Travis into his home. The stark little house doesn't have much in it, yet Chris tears through drawers and cabinets like a madman while Travis just glares at him, "No, I don't know. Also, it might've been nice if you said 'hello' or 'nice to see you' or 'I missed you' before barging in and going through my stuff.'

"I'm going through your stuff because I know you have it and you know I want it!" Chris snaps and sometimes Travis tries to remember when his younger sibling looked at him with admiration. With love.

It feels like a lifetime ago, albeit it only really started once Chris's hormones began to really kick in and he began taking notice of girls. Notice enough that he now whirls on Travis and sighs in annoyance, flapping his arms, "C'mon man, Amelia deserves it!"

"...Amelia-?" Travis is confused because, yes, of course he knows the (current) love of Chris's life, but he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Chris enlightens him, "The ring, Travis! The family ring! Great-great grandma Moria's wedding ring! The one passed down through the family? Ma wore it for a time, but then Dad passed it to you when you turned eighteen..."

He trails off, but he doesn't need to. Travis knows the ring. He remembers that birthday well. It was the only time he'd ever received a truly meaningful gift from his father.

The ring went to the eldest son when he turned eighteen. Whether his parents liked it or not, he is the eldest son. And, being true Hackett's, they couldn't turn their back on family tradition.

Even if they wanted to.

And Travis is sure they wanted to.

Chris, it seems, is more than fine with bucking the tradition as he rubs at his face, growling and then, sucking in a deep inhale as if to calm himself, looks at Travis with sincere brown eyes, "Look, I know who you wanted it for."

Travis feels as if his younger sibling has struck him.

Just that sentence alone.

But one hit isn't enough, as Chris continues, "But, T...you gotta know by now...she ain't coming back."

Travis is tired. That's why he stumbles. That's why he falls back against his kitchen counter, using it to stand up, to prop himself. He just worked twelve hours straight. It has nothing to do with what Chris is saying.

Nothing at all.

It's not why his legs feel weak, lungs dry of air, mouth full of dust, eyes burning...and what Chris is saying...none of it is because of that...

"Look, I know you loved her and I know she meant a lot to you, but...facts are facts, brother. She's gone."

She's gone.

"She's gone and Amelia is here. And...I love her, man. I love Amelia. I'm going to make her my wife. I'm going to ask her and I want to ask her with that ring. Our family's ring."

Travis licks his lips, eyes shifting from side to side, "You don't know...maybe I'll...I'll find somebody. Someday."

I'll find her, he doesn't say, doesn't think, I'll find her.

Chris lets out a huff, "I wish you would, T. I do. But...I dunno...think you're a lil too...ah, stuck for now..."

Travis's eyes close.

He stands, but he feels like he's been knocked down. Knocked down and dragged out to sea, swept up in an undertow and it's the lack of sleep from the job, nothing else.

"So... how's about it, huh? Where's the ring?"

Travis doesn't answer.

"Look...if-if someday you actually DO find someone, I-I can give you the ring back! But for now, for my sake, for Amelia's, can you just-?'

"I don't have it." Travis states baldly. Firmly. His voice carries no emotion. It's bare. Bloodless. Empty.

He opens his eyes and looks at Chris, expression plain and devoid of anything. As if he's a robot. As if he's on autopilot, "I don't have it, Christopher. So...why don't you just go, huh? It's late."

Now Chris looks as if he's the one who's been struck. As if he never anticipated not getting exactly what he wants. Travis isn't surprised. Chris has always gotten what he's wanted before.

Especially from him.

But this is different and somehow Chris seems to know it, even as he lets out a bitter snicker, even as his eyes broadcast anger and hatred while he growls, "Yeah. Fine. You don't have it. Whatever."

He charges out, muttering obscenities beneath his breath the whole time before he slams Travis's front door behind himself.

Travis waits until he hears his brother's car engine rev up, waits until he hears him peel out, tires squealing as he zips off at an inappropriate speed before he unclenches his fists

He unclenches them and feels the sting on his palms where his nails bit in, where they drew blood. Travis pushes himself away from the kitchen counter and, on heavy wooden legs, he goes to the full length mirror in the living room.

Travis goes and taps on the frame and the mirror pulls away from a secret door, one he opens and he goes inside the tiny room behind it, goes and practically collapses into the chair at the desk there.

He pops open the top drawer and then, with a sure flick of his fingers, he pushes aside the false bottom to reveal a small black jewelry box.

Travis looks at it and his hands tremble some as he picks it up. Picks it up and carefully cracks it open. Inside is a slim, well crafted band in silver. In its center is a circular white diamond, one that twinkles with promise...

...or better to say, lost promise...

Travis carefully picks it up, rolls the delicate piece of jewelry between his thick fingers...

...it would have looked beautiful on her...

Travis licks his lips, bites the bottom one hard. The last time he saw this...

...Laura...

He sucks in a shaky breath and, sniffing, he quickly tucks the ring back into the box, putting it back into it's rightful place under the false bottom of the desk drawer.

He shuts it up, then he shuts the room up. Travis puts it all away. He trudges to his bedroom and collapses on his bed and he wishes, oh how he wishes, he could shut up his mind, his heart, as easily as he did those other things.

Travis wishes it could all be tucked away and forgotten about. The ring, the girl...all of it. But, for now, all he can do is find some respite in the insensate numbness that sleep brings.

It takes a long time to come.

[evafrechette]

Enceinte

↠ Seokjin (BTS) x Reader | Fluff & Smut | MarriedCoupleAU! | 18+ | 3.2k

↠ Summary: Seokjin tries his hardest to make his pregnant wife feel good after a long, exhausting day at work. A steaming hot bowl of doenjang-jjigae, a sensual foot massage and a mind blowing orgasm should do the trick.

↠ Warnings:  fingerfucking, breast play, pregnancy, seokjin loves pregnant bellies ☺️, foot massage, kissing, lots of fluff, seokjin is a great husband, and he probably has a pregnancy kink, but he’s cute about it, a man who knows where the clit is!

↠ Part of my Gyeolhon series: Part 01 - Whipped Cream & Cream Pies & Part 02 - Autumn Rain

The door shut behind you with a quiet thud, suddenly cutting off the noise and commotion of car engines and drizzling rain thrumming off the wet pavement. An enticing aroma of soybean paste stew made your stomach grumble, the smell so rich and strong you could taste it on the tip of your tongue.

"Honey, that smells good, I'm so hungry. My lunch was cut short because Laura and Monique were off sick again, and we can't leave the kids unattended ya know." You blabbed away as you removed the heavy messenger bag hanging over your shoulder and hung it on the coat rack, "Not that I was really that hungry at the time anyway, this heartburn is going to actually end me."

"You didn't eat?" Seokjin peered out from the kitchen, his eyes wide with concern.

You waved him off with a flick of the wrist, "Just means I'm ready to be stuffed with more of your meat." You instantly melted into his side, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, head dropping to rest on his shoulder.

"Errmm, I'd say I stuffed you with my meat pretty well already." Seokjin chuckled, patting the round bump that pressed against him awkwardly.

You took a deep breath and sighed, you had walked straight into that one.

"Leave me aloneeee Jinnie, I'm pregnant, and my brain is only working at twenty percent capacity." You whined, squeezing him tighter, "I'm not in the mood for your weird jokes tonight. I'm hungry and tired and sore and I-"

Soft, pillowy lips cut off your whining, pressing against your own with just the right amount of pressure to make your body tingle all over.

"Go take a shower, dinner will be ready when you're done. I promise you I'll take an evening off from the dad jokes." He placed another small kiss against your lips before walking back to the stove to stir the stew bubbling away in the pot.

"You don't have to stop completely." You mumbled childishly as you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You quickly stripped out of your work uniform, dumping the bright blue polo shirt and dark trousers into the laundry hamper along with your underwear and stepped into the bathtub. Grabbing hold of the handle, you pulled it towards the left, not quite all the way but far enough that you knew your skin would be flushed due to it's heat once you were finished.

The first few drops that touched your skin were icy cold, making you shriek out in surprise,  but quickly the rushing heat your sore, tired body craved cascaded down from the shower head and the stress and worries of the day swirled down the drain along with the bubbles that were being washed away from your exhausted body.

True to his word Seokjin was ladling the last spoonful of stew into a bowl when you stepped into the kitchen, "Mmm looks good babe, which one is mine?" Your nose sniffed the air, deeply inhaling the scents that had become a comfort for you. Scents that made you think of home, of Seokjin and his baggy sweatsuits, of his parents and their unconditional love, of family and friends and love, so much love.

"Well since you're so obsessed with meat tonight, yours is that one." He pointed a nobbly finger towards the bowl that was stacked with pieces of pork floating around in the thick brown broth. "Go and sit, you've been on your feet all day, I'll bring it out to you. Also, you uhh have a little..." He brought a finger to your chin and swiped along your skin, toothpaste clinging to his digit from the movement. Smiling, he wiped his finger against his purple sweatpants, depositing the white and blue goop onto the fabric, "Now go, sit!"

A strangled grunt slipped from your lips once you had plonked yourself down onto the soft couch, sinking back into the plush cushions. With another grunt you pulled your legs up and flung them out in front of you, sprawling out across the couch.

"Sounds like an old man is getting comfortable in here. Hnnnggghh, errrrggggg, hmmmpphh." Seokjin hunched over and walked towards you, limping like an elderly man as he made exaggerated grunting noises, the stew sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the bowl.

"That's not a nice way to talk about yourself babe, you're not that old." You smiled up at his handsome face as he handed over the bowl. Forgoing all manners you dug in, lifting a spoonful of the stew to your lips, moaning once the broth had coated your tongue. "Oh god, Seokjin this is really good."

His fingers tapped against your foot as he stood beside the couch, quickly you pulled your legs up and away to give him space to sit, smiling to yourself when your feet dropped into his lap before he even had time to protest.

"Jeeze, nearly got my balls then. Don't you want a sibling for that one in there." Seokjin slurped away at his bowl, cheeks stuffed cutely with tofu and pork.

You guffawed, "Let me push this one out first before you started planning on getting me barefoot and pregnant again. Keep your pregnancy kink in control babe."

It was Seokjin's turn to choke, "Wh-what kink?" He swallowed hard, coughing as a slice of tofu dropped off his spoon back into the broth, liquid splashing back onto his sweatshirt.

You rolled your eyes and took another spoonful of broth, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. I don't mind, I think it's cute how much you love touching my bump."

His eyebrows furrowed as a scowl crossed his face, "Doesn't mean I have a kink..."

"Jin! It's okay! Oh my god, are you actually pouting right now?" You laughed at the ridiculousness of your husband sulking over this, especially considering you could feel his cock begin to harden in his sweatpants.

"You're a bully. First you try to take out my balls and then you make up scandalous rumours about me. Who did I marry? I was hoodwinked, I thought I was marrying a kind-hearted virgin." He dramatically sighed, clasping the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Virgin! We fucked on our first date. Shut up and eat your food." You wiggled your toes against his leg, sneakily brushing against the semi hard cock in his sweats. "Hoodwinked?" You laughed, "What are you seventy years old?"

You both settled into a comfortable silence, the sounds of slurping and chewing competing with the voices of the actors on television. After a long day at work surrounded by sick toddlers trapped indoors because of the snow and rain, to be snuggled up on the couch with the love of your life and a bowl of his soul healing cooking was just what you needed.

Eventually Seokjin nudged your feet off his lap and he took the now empty bowl which was placed on the floor beside the couch. You could hear him banging and clanking around in the kitchen, water gurgling down the drain as he rinsed dishes and scrubbed pots to stack into the dishwasher. You pulled a blue and green throw blanket off the back of the couch and dragged it over your body, snuggling underneath the knitted fabric. Your feet were in pain, swollen twice their usual size and burning so much it was as though you had just spent the evening running over hot coals. An indent from your socks were visible at each ankle, insecurity quietly creeping into your head.

How could Seokjin find you attractive right now? Feet and hands constantly swollen, wedding ring retired to your jewellery box as it had gotten stuck on your finger and after using half a stick of butter, a cup of oil, and a lot of tears shed - decided it was better off put away until a later date. Your cute little innie bellybutton had recently become an outie from how much your belly had grown, and you rivaled Seokjin in the body hair stakes as it was near impossible to reach your legs over the bump that sat in the way.

"What's got you looking like that?" Seokjin raised your legs up and slipped himself back into his previous spot on the couch, he took your left foot and began to knead his fingers into the swollen flesh. His thumbs worked along your arch, digging and pressing into the muscle which hurt the most.

Melting under his touch, your head dropped to rest on the back of the couch and your eyes fluttered shut, "I'm fat and gross Seokjin, that's all. You know how I get in my head, it's … whatever."

"Not true at all, you're busy growing my baby girl, and that makes you a super human. A wonderful, gorgeous, sexy super human. By the way, that waddle you've got going on? It's adorable. Kinda makes me wanna set up cameras around the house so I can watch you while I'm at work." His hands moved to your right foot and he began to rub around your heel and the ball of your foot, pressure hard and consistent. Slowly he dragged his fingers over your toes, wiggling his digits to tickle your sensitive skin. His cheeks and ears flushed pink at the sound of your laughter turning into a drawn out moan when his soft, pink lips pecked gently at each swollen toe.

"Mmm, but you don't have a pregnancy kink right?" Your right eyebrow lifted high as your eyes narrowed in his direction.

"Come over here." Seokjin shifted to sit further against the armrest of the couch and spread his legs open, his left foot dropping to rest on the floor. He patted the space between his legs, welcoming and urging you to sit closer.

You moved as gracefully as your pregnant body allowed and shuffled to sit between your husband's toned thighs. He swiftly wrapped his arms tight around you, crushing your back against his chest. He was warm and comforting, the remnants of his cologne and hairspray tickled your nose when he nuzzled his face into your neck, kissing the exposed skin your oversized pyjama shirt cheekily teased.

"Mmm I love you so much." Seokjin whispered into your ear, his arms loosening their grip around your torso until his hands met your bump, "Work was terrible today, a client threw their cup of water at me because I wouldn't raise the limit on their credit card. Can you believe that? Splashed me right in the face, this face."

Seokjin's hands began to move in slow circles over your night shirt just as a fluttering sensation began to twitch inside your belly. "She always knows when it's your hands and not mine. My daughter is a traitor already."

You sighed, as your daughter’s movements became more robust, Seokjin quickly slid the buttons of your shirt through their buttonholes to expose your round stomach. Slow ripples of movement appeared underneath your stretched skin, reminding you of lazy waves tumbling towards the shoreline. Sudden hard twitches made Seokjin chuckle as his hand moved to lightly press back against the movement.

"She's not a traitor, she's just a daddy's girl already. Wait until we have a son, he'll probably knock me on my ass one day if I say the wrong thing to you. A total mama's boy, I can see it already. My wife and son, tag team bullies.” A hot puff of air blew across your cheek, as Seokjin leaned in closer over your shoulder to gaze at the sight of slow rolling under skin.

"I'm sorry that happened to you at work babe, that's totally uncalled-for. People can be so unnecessarily rude. And anyway, I'd never let future Seokjin Jr bully you, that's my job and my job alone." A lopsided smirk spread across your face when Seokjin mock gasped from behind you.

Repetitive nudging on the right of your belly stole both of your attention as Seokjin tickled along your skin, becoming a game of chase between father and unborn daughter. But as suddenly as the movement started, it began to slow down and eventually stop.

You pulled both sides of your open shirt across your chest and began to rebutton the item but Seokjin quickly pushed your hands out of the way, "No, not yet, I'm enjoying the view too much."

His fingers traced over your bump and up to your breasts. Seokjin's movements were slow and calculated, his fingertips barely making contact with your flushed skin, but when he did finally touch you, electric sparks began to course throughout your body. The tips of his warm fingers casually circled your hard, puffy nipple, which he then lazily pinched between his fingers. Seokjin was in no rush to make you come tonight, he wanted to take his time and enjoy every second of getting you there. The pressure of his fingers pinching your erect nub had you arching your back, "Mmm Seokjin that feels so good." You rasped as his tender lips kissed softly against your neck, trailing their way up to your ear.

Seokjin took your earlobe between his teeth and bit gently, both of his hands now cupped your breasts, kneading and massaging at the swollen flesh. He switched between the gentle pleasing pressure to rolling and pinching of a nipple without warning. He knew just how sensitive your breasts had become due to pregnancy and enjoyed teasing you, bringing you to your point of climax and then stopping, waiting for your breathing to become stable and your pulse to calm before dragging you to your breaking point again.

Seokjin's fingers grazed your areola which hard darkened and become larger the further along your pregnancy had progressed. His fingernails scratched along your chest, leaving pink marks to blossom in its wake.

You could feel Seokjin's hard cock pressed up against your lower back and you pushed back as far as your body could go to feel just how aroused your husband had become. "Seokjin…" You desperately whimpered as he bit down on your earlobe again.

"What is it baby?" He asked as his left hand glided down your body, over the taut skin of your belly to rest at the top of your pyjama pants. His fingers played with the elastic band of your pants, sneaking under to graze your sensitive skin and then quickly pulling back to caress your hip bone.

"Please, please, it's been a hard day, I need to come." You begged, eyes shut tight as you focused on the way his fingers trailed underneath your cotton pants again. Your legs instinctively parted when his fingers ran across the soft material of your panties.

"Please…"

Seokjin's right hand reached up to pinch your nipple hard as his left hand slipped underneath your panties, his fingers making their way to your clit immediately. He began to rub gently, wide circular movements over and around your most sensitive area. Your hips grinded against his hand, soft moans falling from your lips which were begging him to stop teasing and to hurry up and fuck you with his long, slender fingers.

Seokjin continued his focus on your clit, sliding his hand back and forth over the sensitive nub. He tapped his fingers gently in time with your laboured breath and then softly pinched your clit hood between two fingers and gently tugged up and down. All while his right hand fondled your heaving breasts.

You latched onto his arm and dug your fingernails in hard as a tingling sensation began to bubble up inside. "There we go." Seokjin whispered against your ear, his fingers finally travelling to where you desperately needed them. Seokjin slid his fingers into you easily, your wet pussy needing to be filled urgently.

"Ahhhh oh god." You tensed once two long fingers entered inside, your breath becoming shallow as they pumped and rocked inside your pussy. Seokjin pushed his fingers in as deep as he could from his angle, the palm of his hand grazing against your swollen clit with every slight movement he made.

"Fuck, Seokjin more. Please." You arched yourself again, rocking your hips against his hand, ass lifted from the couch to force his fingers in deeper and harder.

Seokjin huffed and slipped his fingers out, quickly replacing with a third before you even had time to complain about feeling empty. He fucked you deep, fingers wiggling inside you, curling to press against the ridges of your pussy, making you scream out in pleasure. The familiar tingling sensation spread underneath your skin, up through your belly and down your legs as your orgasm trembled over you. Your pussy clenched and spasmed around Seokjin's fingers, as he affectionately rocked you through your release.

Seokjin waited until your body had relaxed against his chest before he removed his fingers from your soaking wet pussy. He brought the digits to his plump lips and sucked your wetness from them, his tongue lapping up every ounce of your juices.

"That's my dessert for the night." He chuckled, wiping his hand up and down against his sweatpants leg.

"That's absolutely disgusting, Jinnie, oh my god." You leaned your head back against his shoulder and you both began to laugh. It was the laughter of two people that were tired, stressed and a little delirious.

Looking at the clock which hung crookedly on the wall, Seokjin made a clicking sound with his tongue, "Looks like I missed my show tonight, guess I was a little distracted."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, you didn't need to get me half naked and finger fuck me if you had plans already." You rolled your eyes, buttoning up your sleep shirt.

Seokjin wrapped his arms around you and kissed the side of your face - a giant, wet, sloppy kiss, "I'll just watch the repeat on the weekend. Just make sure to keep your fine ass out of the room or else I'm not sure I could control myself if I see you around."

Wiping away the slobber his kiss left on your cheek you laughed, "Rightt... Do you need me to take care of that?" You reached back and caressed his cock which was still hard and trapped in his pants.

He hissed when your hand gently touched him, "No it's okay, it's going down, don't worry. I just wanted to make my girl feel a little better that's all."

"Well you achieved that for sure. Thank you babe." Linking your fingers with his own, you brought Seokjin's hand to your lips and kissed each knuckle tenderly.

Only two months of pregnancy to go and your life with Seokjin would change drastically forever. It was crazy to think you had originally begrudgingly agreed to a date with the man who you were currently snuggled up with, expecting the date from hell, only to be pleasantly surprised by how sweet, funny, and foolish he actually was. Your pessimistic nature was in contrast to Seokjin's cheerful deposition, but in a way you both balanced each other out perfectly. And your life would become even more perfect once your baby girl was born.

[strawberrysunsets]

The Empty World (Ch. 6)

Donald Pierce x Reader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The Reavers pursue Laura. The mutant tries to protect those she loves, while learning about her powers.

Warnings: Violence, gore, injury, guns, knives, swearing, canonical character death.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: My toxic trait is getting 20,000 words into an enemies to lovers fic and still being on the enemies arc

P.S. This chapter, like the last, takes place in tandem with the events of the movie Logan, so it will probs make more sense if you've seen that!

Comments/reblogs/feedback mean the world to me!:)

Chapter 6: Family

Caliban was screaming. You could hear him even through the thick factory walls. Someone’s voice talked over his cries, calm and dispassionate.

You struggled upright, using the wall behind your for support. “Caliban!” You screamed. “Stop it! Caliban!”

The distant screams finally ceased, resolving into echoing quiet.

They’d thrown you into one of the factory’s storage rooms, pulling Caliban away into the main one. Whatever torture they were inflicting upon him had started shortly thereafter.   

Now, boots passed through the hallway outside, before two soldiers entered to grab you by the arms. You cried out as the soldier’s grip pulled at your wounded shoulder, and black spots dancing across your vision.

“Throw ‘em in the van,” Pierce said, as he passed the storage room. Utterly uncaring.

The soldiers pulled you out into the hall, and you struggled to glance behind you. A second set of soldiers walked there, dragging Caliban between them. He was still conscious, but his head was slumped forward, his face and neck a mess of angry red burns.

***

They deposited you both into the cell of an armoured van, similar to the one you’d been held in a year ago. This whole experience was giving you a horrible sense of deja-vue.

Once the soldiers backed off, you moved to Caliban’s side, worriedly helping him sit up.

“I’m alright,” he said, voice rough, as he leaned on you. “I’ve had worse.”

You stared at the burns criss-crossing his arms and face, and anger twisted your stomach.

You crossed to the metal grating of the truck’s rear, and maneuvered one of your cuffed hands through the bars, reaching down to pick a few of the scraggly plantain leaves growing from the dirt below. They were good for healing skin abrasions, though you didn't know how effective they'd be on burns as bad as Caliban's. You mashed them in your hands to form a sticky green pulp, then returned to his side. With trembling fingers, you gently applied the salve to the worst of his burns, pausing whenever he winced.

“You’ve met these gentlemen before, haven’t you?” Caliban asked, glancing warily at the soldiers outside as you finished applying the salve. “They’re the ones who found you in Maine?”

You nodded. “There were fewer of them then, though. Who burnt you? Pierce?”

 “There may be more of them,” Caliban said, returning his bloodshot gaze to you and ignoring your question, “but you have something that you didn’t, last time.”

It must have been Pierce, you thought. I’m going to kill him.

 “You know I can’t count on my mutation,” you replied, grimacing. “I still barely have it under control.”

Caliban eyed you. “I know you don’t believe that you can use it – but I believe in you. You’re stronger than you think.”

You sat back and inhaled slowly, then let out a gusty sigh. You glanced towards the Reavers and soldiers outside, silhouetted against the setting sun. Then you met Caliban’s gaze. You knew what he was asking, and you nodded, once.

Using your power was the only chance for the two of you to escape. So you would try, because you had to. And because you knew, deep down, that he was right. Your mutation thrummed with untapped potential. And it was time to see what it could do.  

***

You waited until nightfall, when activity in the Reavers' makeshift camp slowed, and the only sound was the occasional crunch of passing boots or the blip of a radio.

Then you lowered the metal screw you’d picked up from the factory floor from your sleeve into your hand, and began maneuvering it into the lock of your cuffs. Once they clicked open, you moved to work on Caliban’s.

The plan was simple. Get around the factory without being seen, and get to your motorcycle. Walk it out past the tracks, then hop on, and gun it for dear life. Simple in theory – no need to use your mutation at all, if things went well – but the plan also hinged on you and Caliban moving through the camp without being seen, which wouldn’t be easy considering that you were both injured. There didn’t seem any better option, though – so once Caliban was free of his cuffs, you reached carefully through the bars of the cage, and levered the screw into the cage’s lock. Already the strain of lockpicking was wearing on your injured shoulder, but you forced yourself to focus on the task.

After a few long minutes of work, you finally caught the lock at the right angle. But just as it gave an audible click, the sound of approaching voices echoed between the trucks.  

“Shit!” You hissed, throwing the door open. It was too late to go back, so you hopped to the ground and tried to help Caliban out as quickly as possible. He stumbled when he landed on the ground, and you grabbed his arm, pulling him upright as two figures rounded to corner of a truck twenty paces away.

The Reavers caught sight of you, and their eyes went wide. “Hey! Don’t move!”

You both turned and ran. Caliban was slower, and as you rounded the side of a nearby fence, he came to a stumbling halt. “Go!” He said, shoving you away from him. “I won’t be fast enough to get away!”

You stared at him, torn, as the footfalls of the Reavers pounded towards you.

“Go,” he repeated, firmly. “I’ll lead them away. It’s no use if we’re both caught!” He turned and stumbled in the opposite direction, dodging between the trucks and shouting to draw the Reavers’ attention. You watched him for a moment, then grimaced, and ran the other way.

He was right, though it pained you to admit it. You had to be practical. If you escaped, you could always come back and find a way to free him.

And since the alarm had already been sounded, there was no use hiding yourself any longer.

You ducked behind the nearest truck, and crouched in its shadows. You closed your eyes, and reached towards the light that danced at the edge of your consciousness. The energy, that fizzed within your blood.

Ether.

To your surprise, it was there, waiting for you. So you breathed deeply, and drew upon it.  

White light haloed you, and you felt the tingling energy race from your fingertips, across your shoulders, to your back – where it pooled like quicksilver.

You heard the shouts of soldiers and the bark of orders as the camp was roused, but you ignored them, focusing on your power.

Great pools of light materialized behind you, coalescing into wings that slowly solidified into bone, feather, and sinew. The light faded, and your wings became fully solid, fanning out behind you in shades of mottled grey. They shivered slightly, as you gasped and steadied yourself against the truck’s side from the sudden drain on your energy.

You’d only manifested your Ether-wings twice before, both times being in the bunker and with Caliban’s support. He’d had a running theory that your flares were manifestations of your suppressed mutation, and would subside if you found the way to unleash its true form. So, you’d begun experimenting. Trying to free your power. It had been hit and miss, but when you’d managed to activate it for the first time – drawing on the Ether, and letting the wings form at your back – you’d felt an indescribable wave of relief. As if you were stretching a limb that had been asleep for too long.

“Perhaps you were never meant to be trapped in the Empty World, when you visit it,” Caliban had said, after the first time you’d manifested the wings. “Perhaps, in your true form, you’d have the freedom to fly between.”

Diffusing the wings back into Ether once you were finished with them was even more difficult – but that was a problem for another time. Your more urgent concern was the fact that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to test your wings out in the air. You’d worried their presence would give off an energy signature traceable by Transigen – so that final test had waited for tonight. To be done in the darkness, while being chased by Reavers. And one asshole, in particular.

“So – I’m confused,” Pierce said, emerging from between the row of trucks nearby and walking towards you. Casually, as if he were out for a stroll. “What the hell’s your mutation? Cause I swear, you weren’t doing this last time.”

You froze, one hand still braced on the truck for support. You could see a group of Reavers already approaching at a run, the beams of their flashlights finding you in the darkness. Before you turned to make a break for it, though, you couldn’t help but give Pierce a feral smile.  

“You couldn't tell?" You asked, in mock disappointment. "It's troublemaking."

Then you ducked around the other side of the truck, and ran hard for the shipping container at the edge of the factory yard.

You needed a vantage point, to lift off. As this would be your first flight, you didn’t trust your ability to take off from the ground. So when you reached the shipping container, you leapt for the first rung of its ladder, pulling yourself upwards. You cried out as the motion wrenched your wounded shoulder, but forced yourself to reach for the next bar, and the next.  

You reached the top and rolled out of sight just in time, as a projectile whizzed past you into the darkness. You heard shouting voices and the pounding of feet from below.

 “Ella esta alli arriba!” One of the soldiers below shouted. “She’s over here!”

“Get up there! Pull one of the trucks around!” You heard Pierce command, as he arrived.

You had no time to lose. So you stood, shakily, though you were still panting for breath. Unconsciously, your wings flared to steady you.

It’s time to sink or swim, you thought. Or, more accurately – to fall or fly.

Lights lit the camp below, but above and on every other side was the darkness of the desert night. You peeked over the lip of the container, and saw a group of soldiers congregating below. A weapon was immediately aimed up at you, and you pulled away from the edge, taking a breath to steady yourself.

I can do this.

There was no other option. So you turned, and ran for the other edge of the shipping container, jumping into empty space. For a moment, it felt as if you were weightless – and then instinct kicked in, and your wings snapped open.

They buffeted air downwards, over the head of a startled soldier, whose flashlight glared up at you. Then they reached up, pulling you into the sky.

***

You flew until the light of the camp was only a pinprick in the distance, and the desert was empty and silvery below you, cast in moonlight. The night air was cool, and you revelled in the feeling of the wind skimming past your wings.

Was this what your mutation was always meant to be?

Not a curse, but freedom?

Faint strands of shimmering Ether trailed from your wings. They reminded you eerily of the tendrils of mist always drifting through the Empty World – but you weren't there, you reminded yourself; and if Caliban's theory was right, you might never be dragged there against your will again.

You could be free. The thought made you laugh, and shout into the sky.

Though your shoulder ached with every wingbeat, it wasn’t until the bullet wound began to bleed from the strain that you finally landed. Even then, the pain couldn’t dampen your spirits.

Sure, Caliban was still captive, and Logan, Charles, and Laura were on the run – but you felt, for the first time, like you had a chance in changing that. You had your power. And it felt incredibly good.

***

You slowly accustomed yourself to flying over the following days. You had plenty of practice – for the Reavers’ convoy made good time, driving North across the border, and then continuing on into Oklahoma City, where they stopped for a day, before returning to the highway. They seemed unwilling to spare the resources needed to track you down, focused as they were on their pursuit of Laura – but you still made sure to follow from a distance, always keeping just out of sight. You didn’t want them to send out drones.

A day later, the Reavers’ convoy was parked in a large highway pullout, their vehicles awash with activity. A police escort waved traffic past as a large flatbed truck pulled into the paved area, a box strapped down in its back. There were perhaps a dozen handlers around the box, and all seemed uneasy as it was transferred to the back of one of the Reavers' trucks.

Whatever's in there, you thought, it can't be good news.

As you watched, a chopper approached the convoy from the East, and you recognized Pierce’s figure as he walked out to watch its progress.

You were crouched in a tree on the edge of the forest perhaps a hundred paces away, separated from the convoy by a field with one large service road cutting through it.

So close to Caliban, yet without any way of getting to him.  

You rested against the tree’s trunk, cradling your injured shoulder to relieve the constant ache. Flying strained it, and whatever muscles and ligaments had been torn by the bullet’s path were not healing well. You’d eventually need to get it looked at, though how and when seemed unanswerable questions at present. You were focused on getting Caliban free, and then coming up with a plan to help Logan, Charles, and Laura escape the Reavers.

The helicopter landed, and you saw a familiar figure step from it. Even from this distance, you recognized the doctor’s sharp posture and shock of grey hair. He met with Pierce, before the two walked in tandem towards the vehicles.

It was a while later, after you’d eaten the sandwiches you’d had a racoon steal for you from a lunch bag left unattended at a rest stop, that you noticed a soldier scanning the treeline with binoculars. You were sure he couldn’t see you, concealed as you were in the foliage, but it still made you uneasy. It meant they knew you were following them.

Soon after, Pierce approached the man, followed by Zander. The soldier gestured towards the woods, and seemed to be telling them something – then Pierce and Zander made their way down from the highway pullout, onto the service road that cut through the field. You tensed, as they walked towards the treeline.

A group of Reavers congregated at the edge of the highway pullout to watch, but none followed.

Zander and Pierce stopped their advance when they’d gone about thirty paces from the highway. Then Zander pulled out what appeared to be a white handkerchief, and held it aloft, waving it in the air.  

“U36!” The doctor shouted, projecting his voice in the general direction of the trees. “We’d like to talk to you!”

You didn’t move from where you sat. Like hell you were going to fall for that.  

 “If you want to free your friend, you’ll want to hear what we have to say!” The doctor added.  

Well. As it turned out, you were going to fall for that. You knew yourself, which meant that you knew you couldn’t pass up a chance to help Caliban, even if this was almost certainly a trap. It didn’t seem a very good one, though – for if they tried anything, you could just take wing. Their chopper was grounded, and would take minutes to get into the air – by which time you’d be long gone. As far as weapons went, you only had the hunting knife you’d stolen from the same gas station as the sandwiches – but you hoped you wouldn’t be getting close enough to them to need it. 

So, you slowly climbed down from your vantage point in the tree. Your wings were folded behind you, their long flight feathers gently tickling your legs.

When you emerged from the treeline, a dozen sets of eyes immediately fixed on you. You paused, then walked slowly forwards, stopping when you were still twenty paces away from where Zander and Pierce stood. Far enough that you felt you’d be able to dodge any bullets or darts, if they shot at you – though they carried no visible weapons.

“Where’s Caliban?” You demanded, immediately.

Zander eyed you. “How long have you had these wings, U36?” He asked, ignoring your question. “I assume you didn’t have access to them when you were last with the Reavers.”

You crossed your arms, trying to hide your discomfort at their scrutiny. You were barely used to your wings yourself, and sometimes still got startled when you felt them brush against you unexpectedly. You'd also tried to dissipate them last night, in order to sleep more comfortably – but hadn't been able to garner the focus to manage it, tired as you were. So you were stuck with them, for now.

“If you let Caliban go, I’d be happy to discuss that. He’s got nothing to do with your hunt for Laura."  

Zander tilted his head, and smiled ingratiatingly. “In fact, he does,” he replied. “For we offered him a deal, you see – the same deal we’re about to offer you.”

You glanced between Zander and Pierce, brow furrowed. “What deal?”

Zander took a step forwards, his eyes lighting up.  “A proposition,” he amended. “Since you seem to value the well-being of your friend so highly.”

You glanced at Pierce, your gaze growing even colder. He’d seen your reaction to Caliban’s torture, so this must be his doing. He tilted his head slightly, gaze meetings yours while giving nothing away.

“If you come work for us, for a time,” Zander continued “—become one of our field agents, that is – we’ll let Caliban go free, once his work is done.”

You stared at the doctor, incredulous. “You think I’d round up mutants for you?” You asked in disbelief. “And that I’d even trust you to keep your word?”

Zander’s brow furrowed. “Our word would be self-evident,” he replied. “Caliban would go free, with a full pardon – he could confirm it himself.  And ‘rounding up mutants’ is not our purpose, my dear. Our laboratories are concerned with the development of genetic tools – and your task would be in our intelligence sector, regardless.”

They want me to become a spy for them, you thought, in exchange for Caliban’s life. You didn’t know what you’d expected, but it wasn’t this. And, worse – you were almost tempted. Caliban could simply walk free. But it wasn’t worth it. Transigen was evil – and whatever you did, it would be for their benefit.

Caliban wouldn’t want me to take this deal.

“Not interested,” you replied. “I thought you’d know me well enough by now to know that I’d never help you.”

Zander sighed, seemingly disappointed. “You should reconsider,” he said, tapping a finger against the notebook at his side. “Your friend is wise – he’s already agreed to a similar offer.”

Your stomach dropped. “What do you mean?” You asked. “Caliban’s helping you?”

Pierce smiled slightly. “He’s one hell of a tracker,” he replied.

It made sense. That must be how the Reavers had tailed Logan, Laura, and Charles, up till this point – but you still couldn’t believe it. What kind of deal would prompt Caliban to help the Reavers? Emotions warred within you. Anger. Dismay. Disbelief. You didn’t know that to think, but you needed time to process this new information.  

“We’re done here,” you said, unfurling your wings and taking a few steps back towards the treeline. “I’m not interested in your offer.”

Zander watched you go, but Pierce’s hand moved slightly at his side, giving a discreet signal.

You immediately turned and ran, even before the Reavers at the pavement’s edge could move to raise their weapons.

You were airborn and flying over the trees in seconds, disappearing into the patchwork of forests and farms beyond. Even as you escaped, your mind reeled from what you’d learned.    

***

A day later, the convoy stationed themselves on the side of a barren highway long after sundown. Trusting the cover of darkness, you drifted down to land among the scrub at the highway’s edge, your back aching from the day's flight.

The road was surrounded only by farmland, and the occasional lonely house – but otherwise, the convoy was as far from civilization as they’d yet been. Truly, the middle of nowhere. Which meant that Logan and the others must be nearby.

You were tired, indescribably sore, and impatient to finally make a move on Caliban’s prison. You’d honed in on the armoured trucks, and decided that there was only one in which they could be keeping him.

So tonight, you thought. I have to get him out tonight, because I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this pace. 

You watched as a few of the Reavers' trucks peeled away from the convoy, and made their way West down the highway for a moment before turning off onto a service road which cut through one of the corn fields.

Where the hell are they going?

Curious, you jogged to follow them on foot, creeping along the highway’s edge and slinking down the embankment and into the field. You ran through the corn stalks, staying low to avoid their rustling leaves. When you emerged on the other side of the field, it was onto the edge of a lawn, which led to a tidy house with a barn and paddock beyond. The Reavers trucks were parked, half-concealed, at the back edge of the lawn, where the service road let out. Their lights were off. And you recognized the strange metal container which had been delivered to the convoy strapped down in one of their rears.

What the hell’s going on, here? You thought, crouching against the lawn's fence. Whose house is this?

For a moment, the yard was deadly quiet – and then a scream broke the stillness.

Laura.

Her voice was unmistakable, and cold sweat broke out over your whole body at the sound. As you watched, a shadow emerged from the house, and slowly descended the porch’s steps.

You froze.

It was Logan.

But – no. Logan was older than that, and his hair wasn’t so severely cut. And, moreover, he wouldn’t be carrying Laura, rendered immobile by a strange set of cuffs, at his side, as she screamed.

The creature that was not Logan had flat, expressionless eyes, and walked without emotion towards the Reavers’ trucks. Then, the sound of tires on gravel came down the driveway. A new line of vehicles approached the front of the house, pulling to a stop before their drivers stepped out and slammed the doors behind them. You had no idea who they were – but they certainly weren’t Reavers.

“Will Munson!” One of the men shouted. “Munson, goddammit! Come out here!”

You watched as the not-Logan dropped Laura in the shadowy grass, and stalked towards the newcomers.

You took the opportunity to sprint along the edge of the yard, keeping to the shadows, to reach where Laura had fallen. You threw yourself to your knees at her side, hoping that the eyes of the Reavers would remain fixed on the not-Logan, for now.

Laura’s eyes widened when you appeared, and she made a choked sound that was half scream, half sob.

“Laura!” You whispered fiercely, taking in her tear-stained face and messy clothes. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to get you out.”

You examined the cuffs that held her. They were unlike anything you’d ever seen before – all steel, with a bar that held each of her limbs immobile. You couldn’t even find a keyhole.

Laura whimpered again.

“It’s alright,” you reassured her. “I'll get you free. Just – one sec –”

Your work was interrupted by a shout from the front yard, followed by a gunshot. You glanced up, in time to see the not-Logan unsheathe his claws, and decapitate the nearest stranger. One of the other men screamed, and the rest scattered to their trucks as the not-Logan lunged for them.

The doors of one of the Reaver’s trucks banging open, and Zander jumped out. “X-24!” He shouted, striding across the lawn. “Stop! Stop now!”

The not-Logan – X24 – seemed to have other plans, though. He continued to slice at the strangers, maiming and killing them left and right, spattering blood everywhere as they screamed. It was horrifying to watch.

Then Zander turned back towards the Reavers, and spotted you crouching in the shadows beside Laura. His eyes narrowed in anger. “Get her!” He shouted towards the trucks, summoning a handful of Reavers from within.

Your face twisted into a snarl. There was no fucking way that they were taking Laura. So you stood, and charged towards the oncoming soldiers, ripping your hunting knife from your belt as you did.

The first Reaver was unprepared, and you’d stabbed him in the shoulder before he had the time to react. But the second came in swinging, his punch clipping you on the shoulder before he grabbed you around the middle and lifted you from your feet. As that one held you, the third Reaver punched you in the stomach, making you double over in pain. You gasped, then twisted your wings hard, throwing off the Reaver that held you.  

You landed in the grass, on your knees. As you struggled to your feet, still recovering from the punch, your eyes landed on the interior of the Reavers’ truck, a few paces away. Another Reaver was within, along with a familiar figure beside them, busy grabbing a weapon from the wall. But though Pierce was the one who caught your attention, he wasn’t the one who held it. For behind him, framed by the grid of a metal cage, was Caliban. And he held something in his hands. Two things. As you watched, he pulled the pins from them, and threw them out beyond his cage.

Pierce glanced over at the noise, and spotted the two objects just as they hit the floor and rolled towards him.

For a moment, he just stared at them. Then he turned, and leapt from the truck – in time for the world to become a blinding inferno of light and heat.

The force of the explosion threw you backwards onto the ground, so forcefully that it knocked the wind from you. Your vision turned white, and then resolved into dancing stars.

You lay on your back, struggling to breath. You blinked, then choked, as your lungs worked in vain. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were able to gasp in a breath. Then another. You rolled over. Your ears were ringing, and the world tilted dizzyingly around you – slowly coming back into focus as your sat up.

Before you, the truck had been reduced to a pile of smouldering rubble. Parts of the lawn were aflame around it, and spurts of fire shot haphazardly from the pieces of debris.

You rose shakily to your feet, dizzy from the blast. Your wings dragged behind you, as you took a step forwards.

“Caliban?” You called. Your voice sounded strange to your ears – as if it was coming from underwater. My hearing must still be impaired by the explosion, a distant part of you thought. “Caliban!”

You stumbled forwards, the heat of the flames growing on your face as you approached them.

You heard a cough behind you, as someone else recovered from the blast.

“Caliban—” you began again, only to be cut off when your eyes landed on an indistinct lump amid the debris. You recognized its tan shirt, now partly aflame, and its pale skin, visible amid patches of blackened flesh.

“No.”

You stared at the body, mind unable to process what it was taking in.

“No!”

You stumbled forwards, into the field of fire, limping between pieces of burning rubber. You felt the searing heat of the flames on your skin, as it blistered your legs – but your only need was to get to Caliban.

When strong arms grabbed you from behind, pulling you back from the wreckage, you struggled against them, mindless in your grief.

“No!” You cried. “Caliban! Fuck!”

Pierce dragged you away from the flaming debris, arms locked tightly around you. Once he reached a spot where the heat of the flames was less, he deposited you onto the grass.

Ash from the explosion was scattered through his hair, and his shoulders and arms were red with burns.

“Ain’t no use going in there,” he said, lowering himself unsteadily to the grass beside you. “You just breath, baby.”

You lay on your back, staring up at the sky, and choked on tears. Slowly, the light of the fires dimmed, as they died down. Somewhere, orders were being shouted – but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The only realization that meant anything to you came when you saw a familiar figure in your peripheral vision, at the front of the house. It was Logan – the true Logan, old and grizzled, limping from numerous wounds – depositing Laura into the passenger seat of a small truck. The Reavers were too disorganized to notice or pursue them, with most of the soldiers still recovering from the blast, and Logan started the engine, peeling from the yard.

You couldn’t see Charles in the truck with them – but you did see a blood-wrapped bundle poking out of the trunk.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see any more.

Hot tears traced down your face, as you curled in upon yourself. This can’t be real. You furled your wings around you, trying to shield yourself from the world. From all of its pain.

Pierce knelt at your side, supporting himself weakly as he winced, as if suffering from a headache.

“You just breath,” he repeated to you, turning to gingerly pull the ruins of his dark shirt away from the worst of his burns.

And you tried to breath, though it was difficult; for your world was in the process of crumbling down around you.

A week ago, you'd had a family – however dysfunctional – a home, and what felt like a future.

Now, all you had was an aching void where all that had been.

***

Taglist:

@humongousgalaxycoffee @drowningnikki @mischiefmanaged71 @lostcause514 @capvengrs @forever-nerd @pancakesandlolliepops

[falsemortal]

Dainty 🌸

Light filtered through the blinds of the small kitchen, shadows casting deeper farther in. The small noises of someone moving around and rummaging through cabinets woke Travis from his seemingly uncharacteristic deep sleep.

Sleep never came easy to him, he was a night owl at his core. Insomnia, anxiety, depression… the whole goddamn werewolf curse? It all went hand in hand to make him not sleep, or rather sleep at the most random of times, when his body would finally give in to the dark abyss.

He didn’t dream. It was always a void, he’d close and open his eyes and suddenly time had passed.

He, however, thought he was hallucinating when he saw Laura fucking Kearney in his kitchen, making herself a coffee, and in nothing more than a dress shirt that had to be from his closet and like a homing beacon, the daintiest, white lace undergarments beneath peek out as he watched her stretch up for a mug in his cabinet.

Travis doesn’t remember stepping further into the kitchen but somehow he’s beside the shorter blonde and grabbing the mug for her. And, god, is his breath taken away when he gets a closer look at her. She’s buttoned the shirt up partially, some of the buttons through the wrong holes. Looking right where he knows he should not be looking was a matching piece of lace that he had glimpsed seconds ago.

“Morning,” her voice is small, seemingly echoing in the space around them, “..Coffee’ll be ready in a few.”

He nods to her as he hands the mug over to her, his mind racing, trying to put together what happened for her to be here and in this state. “...Morning.”

They are friends. Or well, they are friendly, comfortable enough with each other that they did spend time together. ..a lot of time. Although, not recently due to their schedules.

He just doesn’t remember inviting her over, or rather, her inviting herself. The previous day was a blur.

He remembers getting home from work and putting his dinner in the oven and eating.. That’s it.

He didn’t feel hungover, he actually felt really good. Like he’d actually slept, no aches and pains… just plain.. good.

Laura leaned back on the counter, giving him a once over, which made him realize he was just in his boxers. His body prickled and burned at the subtle attention, making him cross his arms.

“You okay?” Her blue eyes searched his face, her knuckles gently nudging his bicep. Her fingers were ice cold.

He nods slowly, wetting his lip and tearing his gaze away from her.

She was as beautiful as ever. Her hair an angelic halo, with the gentle waves caressing her cheeks and sticking up in odd places. There was something about seeing her in the morning light that made his heart ache and yearn even more than usual.

He wanted to reach out and fix the stubborn piece of hair that kept flicking down in front of her eyes. He wanted to take her hands and warm them with his own, but the words ‘forbidden’ and ‘pervert’ kept flashing in his mind.

“Yeah,” he rasps, “I’m fine.”

A hint of a smile on her lips as she squeezes his arm, “Good, because I can’t wait to get out on the road again. I’ve missed this.”

She inhales, “I’ve missed us, Travis.”

He looks back at her, his face open and his eyes searching for the meaning of her words. Instead, she leans into him, resting her forehead against his skin.

“I’ve missed you.”

His heart thumped loudly, his hand shakily touching her shoulder. He pushes past his inner dialogue and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, his hand smoothing a circle into her borrowed shirt.

“I’m here,” he chokes out, “I’m always here for you, Laura.”

Travis stood alone in his kitchen, clutching at the air as his heart yet again twisted and squeezed. He felt his face burn, and felt tears scorch down his face. His whole body shuddering as he let his emotions finally take over.

[augustnightsadrift]

🚬 - to light your muse’s cigarette . (from parker sears)

"Fuck me you're a lifesaver," Laura practically moaned as she took a deep inhale. Rationing her cigarettes was a pain in the ass to begin with, but forgetting her lighter had nearly been her undoing. She knew she was being melodramatic, except she'd never been good at containing her vices. "Alright, what do I owe you?" Fingers tapped at her lips. "Could help you sneak out some groceries if you're in a pinch...or if you're not." She jerked a thumb behind her, gesturing toward Nature's Stop, the place she worked. But it was just another job, and she was a bit loose with her morals.

@fcdcdmcmories

[kitchenisking]

Fic Rec🙂

Every Time by xxjinchuurikixx - (Rating: T, Words: 700, sterek)

Grinning like an idiot, Stiles inhaled deeply, stretched slowly, and in a searching motion, he reached his arm out and slapped the pillow beside him. * In which there's some fluff and slapping.

This Isn't Love (Yet) by bi_leigh_bi - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5152, sterek)

Stiles is cold and wet, he's exhausted. He is not in love with Derek Hale, but he invites him inside anyway.

You Call Me A Hero by happyevraftr - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5233, sterek)

Stiles knows he won’t beat this mysterious dark evil that’s come to devour them. He knows it’s a losing battle and he’s probably going to die anyways, but he still tries. He has to try and save them.

Blessed by the Mother Moon by theonewiththeeyebrows (painfullystoic) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4527, sterek)

Derek transcends to Alpha, blessed by the Mother Moon. The Druids come out of the fog and bless his ascension to power with an unlikely gift, prompted by an ancient prophecy.

A Chance Worth Taking by ash_mcj - (Rating: G, Words: 1885, sterek)

When Derek woke up, he thought he was in a dream.

There were posters littering the familiar forest green walls that he hadn’t seen in years—Star Trek, Black Eyed Peas, even a Destiny’s Child one he had completely forgotten was on the back of his bedroom door that he’d stolen from Laura’s wall when she’d left for college. A burgundy and white letterman jacket was slung over his desk chair, bold letters spelling his surname and his basketball number across the back with Beacon Hills Cyclones Basketball on the lower half.

This wasn’t possible—this room had burned to ash years ago, and his nightmares almost never featured such simple scenes as this one. There were no foreboding feelings, no sharp smell of smoke, no guilt-inducing screams. 

And just as he was about to dig his clawed hand into his thigh in an attempt to wake himself from this maybe-dream, he remembered. ___

[or: with the help of some magic, Derek and Stiles go back in time—giving them the opportunity to save not only their future pack, but also the first one Derek lost]

(Teen Wolf Bingo Square: Time Travel)

(Fall)ing In Love With Autumn (& You) by alisvolatpropiis - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 2877, sterek)

Just some fluffy Fall sweetness for y'all! 

From a prompt on Tumblr: "i wanted to really embrace the fall spirit so i raked my leaves into a big pile and have been jumping around in it for ages and your moving truck just pulled up beside my house, so hi i’m your new not-weird neighbour.”

Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7776, sterek)

Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.

My Spark for You by nightlight9 - (Rating: G, Words: 2779, sterek)

Stepping over the threshold, Stiles takes a deep breath. He may not be a werewolf, but the smell of Derek’s house is still overwhelming. Everything is warm inside, a perfect contrast to the cold chill outside. He's so happy to be home.

Trying to Break Through by coffeeinallcaps - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5507, sterek)

At first, it’s just sex.

It’s good sex – Derek comes every time, Stiles comes every time, says things like “whoa,” and “do that again, yeah, yeah, like that, fuck,” – but still: it’s just sex. They don’t speak much, at first. They don’t kiss as much as bite down on each other’s bottom lips and breathe heavily into each other’s mouths when they’re about to blow their load. Derek is not sure if it qualifies as kissing at all. He’s not sure if he wants it to.

(He’s not sure why he wants it to.)

Quicken by reillyblack - (Rating: Mature, Words: 4299, sterek)

Derek had not been aware that Stiles was a virgin. Derek tried, often, not to think about Stiles and sex. He didn't succeed, but he did try. And Stiles has to know that, has to be doing this to him on purpose. No one is this thick.

For example, Scott knows exactly what Stiles is doing to him.

Scott.

[samiii-p]

Forgettable Laura snores and Genevieve can’t sleep Drabble pt.1

It's late, midnight has surely passed; nearly 3AM when Saskia returns from her trek to the outhouse. Through the garden, down the hill and back again brings her to the canteen where the only light illuminating the dark space comes from the moon hanging high outside and one small light powered by a battery designated for night use only.

She’s almost to the main hall when a clatter stops her dead in her tracks. It could be almost faint, if she were further away enough but this close she can tell it's something or someone bigger than a wandering rodent looking for food. Ruling out the something and putting Saskia on high alert for unwanted someones especially those with XY chromosomes. After the dudebro fiasco last month, everyone’s been on high alert.

“Hello?” The sound of a quick shuffle draws closer, and Saskia calls out again a little louder. “Hello?” A bang echoes in return and Saskia reaches for the shiv in her boot she carved out when this whole apocalypse catastrophe started. “I swear to god or whoever is in charge up there, you better not be bloody trespassing or I'll-” a crash breaks disrupts her threat and Saskia realizes whatever buffoon that has wandered onto their property is probably navigating blindly and if there was ever a time to strike its now, when they least expect it.

Weapon at the ready, she inhales deep and makes a break for it giving it her best warrior cry. “AHHH!”

“AH! The bloody hell!”

“Genevieve?”

“Saskia?”

“What the fucking fuck? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Me? You what the fuck,” Genevieve whisper yells, as her focus draws towards the sharp end of a tooth brush. “Were you trying to stab me, you psycho?!”

Drawing back, Saskia withdraws her attack weapon and crosses her arms instead. “Sorry,” she mumbles, “I thought you were an intruder.”

“And your first thought was to maim first, ask questions later?”

“No.”

This time, Genevieve copies Saskia’s stance but in a much more judgmental way and the scrutiny kinda unnerves her, not that she’d ever admit it out loud. To anyone.

“Well … what are you doing out of bed?”

“What are you doing?”

“I asked you first.”

“And I’m just as curious to hear your answer.”

Saskia groans, this woman , for the love that is all that Sister Bicky believes in - she sighs, taking a deep breath and counts backwards from 5 and tries again. “I had to use the can, alright.” She says, then waits, and waits. And at this point she’s pretty sure Genevieve's stubbornness is one trait made out of principle, that and solely for Saskia because she knows it’ll annoy the hell out of her. “Well?”

“Can’t sleep.” Is her simple rebuttal.

“So what, you're just going to walk around in the dark?”

“There’s not much else to do around here, so yeah.” The taller of the two moves to side step Saskia, dismissing her and ending the conversation. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a long night ahead of me.”

Two steps forward and she vanishes into the darkness of Ridge Heights.

“Fish please” Emma makes the request from the end of the table, and absently Saskia watches as several hands pass it down from one girl to another until it comes to Tegan who reaches over a notably empty seat. One usually reserved for Genevieve Tuke.

No one here is devious enough to push Genevieve out to sea. Well. Sandy for sure - and maybe Phoebe if you catch her on a bad day but both ladies have been pretty tame lately especially since Teresa has agreed to parent (coparent?) her baby and honestly, Saskia isn't surprised. She always suspected a vibe when it came to Sandy’s infatuation with Teresa. But that’s beside the point. Everyone here generally seems to like Genevieve, albeit she walks around like she has a stick up her ass half the time and is peculiar on her best day, she cares about the group and generally wants the best for the interest of the collective. Even if she has to protest it alone.

The quietness of eating and early morning mumbling turns into chatter until it grows energized signaling it's time for everyone to start their daily chores. Sister Bicky organized a rotating schedule to decrease complaints of one girl doing more than the other. It was all juvenile considering they were functioning adults before this all happened, but as it would seem, old habits die hard. And Sister Bicky was the perfect neutral leader they’ve needed since the beginning.

Today she’s on laundry duty with … she skims her finger across the list, Genevieve. She sucks her teeth, “Oi! Anyone seen Geni?”

A mix of “nahs” and shuffled feet reply as everyone starts to file out, onto their own assignments. She groans, as she basically comes to terms with wading through weeks worth of dirty clothes and linen for 10 people, alone. Fuc-

“Uh, Sass,” Forgettable Laura brings up the back of the group and quietly suggests, “check our room. I tried waking her up this morning but she told me to duck off so…”

So she makes the hike upstairs, down the dorm hall and comes to room 27 and bangs loudly on the door to no avail. “Fucking hell,” she tries the knob and thankfully its unlocked and she steps into the 12x17 room to find her sister in arms spread eagle on a twin size bed, her long legs hanging over the edge and her mouth wide open for any curious nets floating around who fancy morning breath.

“Geni,” tap “Gen?” tap - tap , she moves to her side now, shaking Genevieve like she’s trying to revive the dead.

“The bloody hell, WHAT ?!”

“Morning sunshine.”

“What the heck, can I get 5 frickin’ minutes of sleep!”

Saskia ignores that, instead she calmly explains her presence, “time for chores.”

“What?”

“Chores.” A look of realization dawns on Genevieve and she rolls over to face the wall, groaning. “You can ignore me all you want but I’m not leaving, and the longer you do the later we work.” Unfortunately .

Genevieve sags into her bed and Saskia almost pities her. Almost. But there's no way in fudging hell she’s cleaning everyone’s dirty draws by herself. “What time is it?”

“The sun is awake, it’s that time of day.” She tugs the pillow under Genevieve and scurries back when a long limb swings her way.

“Jesus, give me a minute.”

“Considering you wasted valuable time last night … no.” She risks nudging the brunette again, and is thankful when Genevieve’s only reaction is a scornful look. “Now, get up please. I rather not spend my day doing manual labor.”

Genevieve meets her in the hallway, and after a pitstop to the bathroom to splash water on her face and brush her teeth, they find themselves outside song the edge of what used to be Ridgefield’s futbol pitch. Genevieve starts a fire under two large basins while Saskia fills another with cool water. As agreed, everyone has brought down their dirty laundry and steadily the two separate everyone's clothes into piles, dropping the clothes in the heated water and a mixture of vinegar and baking soda before placing them in cool water and hanging them to dry. It’s the best they can do, given their limited supplies.

“It’s funny how much the things I used to take for granted, I’d kill for right now.” Genevieve jokes, as she stirs the fifth load. Saskia nods in agreement as she hangs sheets on the line.

“Did you have one of those fancy machines?”

“If you mean Bluetooth, and how it notified me when my washing was done, then yes.”

Saskia chuckles walking over as she finishes with the last of the clothespins and helps Genevieve empty the last of the washing into the cool basin, letting it soak for a while.

“I miss a lot of things - air conditioning for one.”

“Speaking of, fucking air freshener and candles, it can get fuckin rank around here.”

Saskia smirks, “coffee.”

“Toilet paper.”

Saskia nearly drools at the idea of decent two ply. “Had I known my last time with Quilton, I would have cherished it more,” both break off into slight giggles as they get back to work. Genevieve tips the basins empty, letting the murky water flow into the ocean surrounding what is now her and ten other women’s home before moving over to help Saskia hang the rest of the clothes to dry, not too log after they make the hike back to main campus, Saskia turning one way and Genevieve the other towards the dorms.

“If you're really that tired you can always try getting some sleep at night.” Saskia inquires and the other woman huffs as if it really is that simple. “Or are you just more of a night owl than most?”

Genevieve shakes her head, “it's more like my roommate snores like a suffocating warthog,” emphasizing her point with a lewd snore as Saskia’s laughter erupts through the empty foyer.

“Ah, poor you. Can't say I’d be able to sleep a wink either if it's as bad as you say.” Asks, “what about one of the empty rooms?” There’s plenty of them to go around since the mass exodus of their classmates ditching them when they learned civilization wasn't completely dead.

Genevieve's shoulders sag as she sighs, and looks the other way. Saskia follows her gaze, trying to see what the taller of the two does and waits as Genevieve finally mumbles an answer. “I - I don't like sleeping alone.” In truth, she hasn't had to sleep alone in a very long time and the thought of doing so now, when the world was seemingly coming to an end, terrifies her.

And since everyone else was paired off, it was Laura or no one.

“Hm,” Saskia nodded, clasping her hands in front of her as she took in the information. “... well, I mean, if you wanted … you could bunk with …me?”

A fine tune brow lifted in her direction. And as sanity would properly state that was crazy of you . She and Genevieve were not friends. Cordial and decent for the greater good, sure. Saskia was her aforementioned terminator for nearly 4 years (which she later, shamefully found out, resulted in severe harmful patterns) so of course rooming with her former victim was out of the question. It was dumb of her to even put her lips together to ask.

Not that she had a room to share anyway since her trail. More of an abandoned lounge she’d been exiled to.

Genevieve turns in the direction of the dorm, and takes a step, “Can I think about it?”

Surprised she didn't outright turn her down, Saskia agrees, “yeah, sure of course. J-Just let me know and -” Genevieve starts for the dorms mid accordance. “Yep - okay, that's fair.”

[shadowsshowdown]

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown: Chapter 23

The One Called Navras.

Detroit. Laura's apartment.

Laura struggled furiously but the attacker did not give her a chance to escape, much less a counterattack. He was amused by the insults he heard from her lips, but for his safety, he still held her hands tightly. The woman fought furiously for her life, but her every move was just another loss of strength.

"You haven't changed a bit, Little Orchid," he said, counting on that the woman will come to her senses before she completely exhausts her strength in this pointless hand waving.

Miss Werner suddenly stopped fighting as if a spell had been cast on her with those two words. She slowly analyzed what she had just heard, not believing it could be true.

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" she growled, growing suspicious again. She tugged her entire body a few times, slowly looking up at the face of the man who let go of one of her hands to remove the dark purple hood from his head. "Navras..." she whispered and in a split second, she became as gentle as a lamb.

"Well you finally said something sensible," he muttered, taking a step away from her. "And now..." "Joe! By all the plagues of the world!" she screamed furiously. "Where the fuck have you been all this time?! Answer me, or I'll rip your balls off!" Laura started punching him with anger, not controlling what she was aiming at. "I needed you! Now you dare come in here like nothing the fuck is wrong?! You have no idea what I've been through!"

Navras just stood there and let her vent her anger. "Beat me! Humiliate me! Say dirty things to me. Oh yes, that's just the way I like it," he muttered with amusement while removing his black gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his black fancy-cut coat, which glinted purple in the light. With that gesture, he revealed his cybernetic prosthetic arms. "A little more on the back, please," he said with sarcasm in his voice.

The man hoped that in a moment she would get over it as she usually did, but not this time. He sighed in boredom, seeing that Laura wasn't going to stop beating him at all. Fortunately, he was an aug, so her furious blows were barely a tickle to him. Navras’s dermal armor was absorbing each successive blow, but it was also becoming gradually depleted in a process. Well... Not this time.

"Control yourself, dammit!" he always tried being calm when dealing with Laura, but there came times like this when his patience was abused. "Instead of wasting our time and your strength you better tell me what's going on here."

Laura, tired of blowing off steam at Joe, looked at him with the gaze of a spoiled brat, then suddenly she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly and snuggled in. The man sighed again, put his arms around her, and tousled Laura’s hair, now tied in a high ponytail. He was about twelve inches taller than her, but that didn't bother him at all.

"Unfortunately I don't have much time. Coming here was very risky anyway, but I had to do it," he said in a bass-baritone voice that could be deep and after a while makes her shiver with its lightness. Laura loved listening to him in every version, and he knew it perfectly well.

In silence, they walked together to the living room and sat on the violet sofa close to each other. Joe didn't want her to turn on the light. Laura had a gut feeling he was as afraid of what was coming as she was, but he didn't say it out loud because he wanted to be strong for her. He had always been like that – steadfast, concealing fear, mysterious. She had known Joe for so long, and knew very little about him, while Joe knew all of her secrets. The woman cuddled up to him quite freely, inhaling the oriental-spicy scent of the perfumed water with the top note of ginger. He had used it since they met. Navras leaned comfortably against the backrest of the sofa tilting his head slightly back. Laura noticed he was still pinning up the dark brown hair on top of his head into something resembling a bun, leaving a few loose strands that fell freely, accentuating his well-defined cheekbones. He hadn't given up the braid on the left side of his head either. Joe was just as she remembered him, completely as if time had stopped for him. Navras gave himself and her some more time because he didn't know when or if they would ever see each other again.

"Kratos is hunting me," Laura said quietly. She hoped he would care about what she said, that he would at least be interested in this fact. Miss Werner was aware of his cold indifference which was only apparent.

"I know little one. He tracked me down too," he muttered, reluctantly taking up the subject. "I have to disappear once again. That's why I came." Joe felt her hand tighten on his loose, light violet  shirt. He knew he was causing her pain because Laura was hoping for something completely different. It was selfish, but he had to see Evie before leaving forever.

"Don't leave me... Please… Adam doesn't want me either because I'm a rag and slut. Kratos is threatening me. I've been raped, nothing makes sense, and you only came here to tell me that you’re leaving," she said in a voice full of regret, one that moved him to his core. Nevertheless, he had to stick to what he decided.

"Believe me or not, but of all the people you know, I understand your situation best. I've been there for you, lived through those moments, and shared your pain. Now I must disappear. If you care for me, you will let me go. I wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t serious. Trust me," Joe was able to adjust his voice perfectly to help him get the right message.

„We can solve our problems together as we always did. I will help you as much as I can. I…"

„No, Evie," Navras stopped her from ending the sentence. He knew the words that would come next. She would beg him, and that was something Joe didn’t want to hear.

"Say you'll come back at least. Please say it, promise me. I must have a hope I can cling to! I must have ANYTHING!" Laura’s voice was unbearable to him. That scream tore Navras apart, but on the surface he was indifferent, he had to. "I need to have anything to… stay alive," she said quietly.

"Evie..." he interrupted her firmly. "I would like to give you the whole universe, but that’s beyond my power. I would like to say what you want to hear, but that would be cheating. I don't know what turn events will take. Be strong, I know you can."

Laura hugged him tighter and began sobbing like a child. Navras looked at her with a violet gaze of synthetic eyes. After a moment his cybernetic fingers began softly wiping the tears from her cheeks, soon his fingers were replaced by his soft, warm, thin lips. The woman wanted to protest, but in the end, yielded to him. If this indeed is their last meeting, she won't take those few moments of happiness away from Navras. The man's lips slowly slid down her cheek then joined with her’s in a long, farewell kiss. His beard scratched her skin just as it had before, and had the exact same shape. It started under his lower lip just in the middle. The narrow, dark brown strip was reaching his chin and splitting in both directions along his jawline to curl up just at the corners of his mouth. Joe didn't have a mustache, though Evie had told him many times that he should grow one.

"Joe..." she wanted to say something but Navras put his index finger on her lips.

"I know, Evie. Forgive me for this weakness," he whispered.

She wanted to tell him she had decided to find Kratos and return to him for everyone's sake, but she knew he would want to stop her. Therefore, she remained silent. Navras was right, it was their last meeting, but he would not die, and neither would Adam, though she hated him now with all her heart. No one would ever die because of her again.

"And by the way, I'm not small at all," she muttered offendedly.

Joe smiled squinting. He regretted they had to end up in such dark and hostile times again. He wished he could change it, but he didn't have that power. Even all of the augmentations that were done to him in the past didn't make Navras a god. He was still a mere mortal.

"Remember when you said that someday we would go somewhere far away, to the other end of the world?" she asked, lying on her back and resting her head on his thighs.

"Mhm. It was a long time ago. We were young and..." he sighed in exasperation. "Evie, please don't be a child. You need to leave your dreams locked tight behind the gates of that fairy castle along with carefree life," his voice was now a rough, fatherly tone, the one that always brought her down to earth and let her endure anything.

"You were not the one sitting in the basement, chained to the wall. You were not the one being raped by Kratos and his fucked-up friends over and over again through… years. You weren't the one left alone in the world and you weren't the one abandoned by someone you started to trust," she pointed out mercilessly.

Each of those words really hurt him. The woman was right, she had been through hell, which is now claiming her again. But through all this time, she had not understood one simple thing; there were others in this world, not far away, whose lives were not all roses too. That's why it irritated him so much when she constantly emphasized her grievances. That was why he preferred to remain silent rather than argue with her.

"Yes, not me," he replied, choosing his words carefully to get out of this conversation without conflict.

Evie shifted uneasily. She wanted to get up, but he wouldn't let her, gently yet suggestively catching her by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Joe... It was selfish, I didn't mean..." she tried explaining herself somehow, but she had no adequate argument to justify her stupidity.

"Stop it, or I'll kiss you again," he threatened her, this time trying to joke.

She wanted to say: "Adam would punch you hard in the teeth for this," but remembered Adam was gone and he wouldn't come back. Laura remembered how fleeting happiness can be. One day it's there, the next it dies in an accident. One day you see it as breakfast, a smile, or a crazy party, the next it's killed by fire. This should have taught her to appreciate small gestures, but it made her run away from everything good.

"Do you like me a little bit at least?" she asked looking at his face when Joe intertwined his hands at the nape of his neck.

"No," he answered shortly. He knew what was about to happen.

"OK, whatever..." she burbled displeased, and turned her back on him.

Navras laughed out loud. He deliberately provoked her to such behavior because he liked to see her offended expression.

"You're asking stupid questions, you know?"

"Mhm."

"One good thing," he muttered amusedly.

"And don't call me Evie."

"Why? After all, that's your name," the man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Here I am Laura. No one knows that's a fake name," she explained as briefly as possible.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time? Don’t you have enough problems with Kratos?" Navras raised his voice slightly. He had hoped he would be able to walk away from here with the peace of mind that Evie was doing well. Meanwhile, Damien was hunting her, and she still managed to find herself new problems.

"Nothing special, just a broken contract," Laura changed position back to sitting and pulling bent legs to the belly she shrugged. "The superiors will probably claim for their own soon, but I don't care," her voice was carefree.

"What are you talking about?! What superiors?!" he was furious now.

"They didn't introduce themselves, everything was a top-secret and hush-hush basis. I was supposed to gather intel from Sarif Industries, and that was it. I met Adam in the middle of the task and well…fucked it up," she explained as briefly as she could.

"Evie..."

"Laura!" she interrupted him. "Learn at last."

"I don't have to, but so be it, Laura. Why did you break your contract?" he asked, not really understanding what Adam had to do with all this.

"Because after a while I found it strange they wanted anything from me and didn't have specific guidelines. Besides, the Chief of Security was nice to me and I didn't feel right spying behind his back."

Her explanation did not satisfy him at all. "The hacker's job isn't like walking in the park and holding hand with your sweetheart. You have to be more resilient, otherwise, you will give up the task because of anyone who is nice. Then you expose yourself to someone on the top and then what?"

"You're right, Joe," she admitted with a quiet sigh. "This was an exceptional situation. You know I always get things done," she continued trying to defend herself.

"Yeah, I remember one of our contracts very well. Alex saved our asses back then because you insisted on stealing the data no matter what," he reminded her of the old days. "Police, half of the security, two local gangs..."

"And that mad butcher with his dog," she completed the list. "Come on… The big fuss of nothing," she waved her hand carelessly. "Only one little boom."

"Oh, of course. The tiny explosion that blew up a subway station, a chunk of the sewers, the bigger one, and an entire research facility. Everything looked like New Year's Eve fireworks in Dubai."

"Lovely view. It's not my fault that Alex likes to act with a flourish," she shrugged. "And do you have any info from him at all?"

"Unfortunately he went underground which is quite disturbing knowing his ideas," Joe stated, though it was hard to sense if he was worried. His voice masked his emotions well.

"Like that chain of grenades to stop an armored truck?"

"More like firing a bazooka straight into the wall, behind which they kept the tankers filled with flammable materials."

"Those were the days. Nothing could stop or separate us," she daydreamed under the influence of the memories. "Long live my lame hospitality. I didn't even ask if you wanted coffee or tea. Maybe you are hungry?" she asked embarrassed. "Although I can tell by your belly that you're not starving," she stated teasing him.

"Thank you for the offer, but I should be going anyway," he replied quietly. "Besides, I don't have a fatty belly at all, just well-sculpted muscles."

"Mhm, as soft as a pillow."

In response, he began tickling her mercilessly and didn't stop until she was out of breath from the non-stop laughter. Navras felt so comfortable in her company that he was in no hurry to leave at all. Anyway, he had to wait until the woman went somewhere or fell asleep. He already had the opportunity, but he missed it. The clock chimed midnight, Laura yawned.

"Get some sleep. You're tired," he suggested with concern in his voice.

"Not at all."

Navras didn't reply just started humming a song she knew well.

Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in And carry you over to a new morning

After a while, the woman was already asleep as if he had cast a spell on her. Joe smiled as he looked at her calm face.

"Goodbye, Little Orchid," he whispered, stroking her hair.

Laura woke up as the clock chimed the full hour. She didn't have a phone near so she had to get up to check what time it was. She rubbed her eyes noticing that Joe had covered her with a blanket and made her lay comfortably on the sofa.

"Navras are you here?" her question remained unanswered. "Joe?!" she ran around the house looking for him but was left alone.

The faint lights entering the living room through the windows illuminated her depressed face. Everyone was gone, there was nothing left. Laura crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her gaze. She missed Adam, so damn much that her whole body ached. What he had said to her, all those words couldn't be what he thought. Evie didn't know him very well, but still, this sudden turn in behavior was strange. When she looked to her left, she noticed that the same flier she had gotten at The Jackdaw was lying on the coffee table. Suddenly she realized that the man in the hoodie who was sitting by the window and the one who had bumped into her was one person. The one who had just left. She was angry at herself for being unable to link such simple things. Laura let Navras go without the second thought.

It was only seventeen minutes to four in the morning when Miss Werner decided to return to Faridah. She changed into her jeans and the random sweater, swapped her shoes for comfortable boots, picked up her coat, and left. Closing the door, she thought about how Joe had managed to get in at all. When asked, he would probably reply that he had his ways. It was still dark outside, the lights of the lanterns barely illuminated the darkness, one of them was flickering on and off with a loud hiss and crackle. Instinctively she looked up, but the shutters at Adam's apartment were lowered. On the way to Malik's apartment, several drunken men passed her. One of them grabbed her arm, mumbling something unintelligible. She jerked away and quickened her pace.

Fortunately, Laura knew the entrance code, or else she would have been sitting by the door until morning. She typed it in and carefully opened the door. The woman quietly took off her shoes and coat, then slowly walked into the living room. Evie decided to sleep on the couch so as not to wake Faridah in the middle of the night. She reached the table where they were eating their meals when suddenly the light came on.

"Where have you been all this time?" she heard Malik's voice, not at all pleased. "I was worried about you! You are irresponsible and selfish!" she growled furiously.

"I left my phone at the company," she lied. "Then I went to my place," Laura replied with a depressed voice.

"And now you will tell me what happened between you and Adam," she insisted, not giving her friend the opportunity to retreat.

"Nothing," she muttered, wanting to go to the bedroom.

"Oh no. Come sit next to me. Neither of us is going to bed until I know the truth."

"Faridah..." she sighed.

"Don't Faridah me. This is a serious matter."

Laura reluctantly walked closer and sat down on the sofa. The mere thought of telling everything that had happened between her and Jensen made Laura’s hands began to tremble. And the memory of what Kratos was doing to her made her nauseous. Malik gave Laura no choice. Even if she tried withholding some of the information, sooner or later Fly Girl would find out everything. It would be even worse because she would break her fragile trust. The woman sighed loudly feeling her friend's urging gaze.

"Let's start with the fact that you should know what Adam already does. I didn't want to tell him, but he insisted," Laura didn't know what to do with her hands. First, she kept them bent on the knees, then she hid them behind her back, and finally intertwined them on her chest. "Damien was raping me," she said after a moment.

The words continued to flow on their own, merging into a stream of hot, black tar that seemed to stick to the entire room. Faridah hoped it was some kind of sick dream, and Laura was about to say: "It is just a fragment cut from a movie I had once seen." Malik already knew everything would change after that night. Miss Werner was very thorough in her story. She recalled what, where and how they did to her, she talked about the collar, the humiliation, blood, and the pain. They treated her worse than an animal so no wonder it was so hard for her to trust anyone now. Especially Adam, who at first is very rough with new people he meets and sometimes even with friends. The whole story overwhelmed the Chief of Pilots. She wanted to ask how Laura got out of there and who helped her rebuild her disturbed psyche, but she gave up. The rest of the story didn't get any better. Faridah flew into a rage.

"How could he say something like that after you opened up to him?!" she screamed waking up the cat.

"Faridah... Look at it realistically," she said quietly. "I'm just a regular slut. I can't compare to Megan. Imagine how Adam must feel and his shame when he introduces me to someone. I should have told him earlier," her voice broke and she started to cry.

"That doesn't explain him. He's not like that. First of all, if he wanted to break up, he wouldn't point out to anyone where he belongs. Try to talk with him tomorrow. One last time," she encouraged her and handed her a tissue.

"All in all, I have nothing to lose anyway. I won't fall any lower."

"Let's go to sleep. You'll be worrying tomorrow," she said, putting her arm around her.

"Go first, I'll be there in a minute," she replied, wiping her eyes.

Malik nodded and went to the bedroom. Laura didn't want to go to sleep at all, so she searched the fridge and all the cupboards in the kitchen. When she gathered everything that was needed, she thought about baking some kanelbulle. After finishing, the auburn-haired woman picked up her laptop and continued writing the security code for Washington until morning. A moment ago she was looking forward to this trip, and now it is the worst that could happen to her.

As soon as Faridah got up, she shouted at Laura, reminding her that she should take care of herself and not overwork as recommended by the doctor. Firstly Laura didn't listen to her at all, and secondly, the smell of kanelbulle calmed down Fly Girl immediately.

"Take some of these goodies and give them to Adam. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Maybe then he'll tell you what's going on," she encouraged, even though she did not believe it would change anything.

"That's a good idea," she nodded completely indifferently. Laura sat with a bowl of Crunchy Pirate in front of her but ate barely two spoons.

The thought of going to the company terrified her and talking to Jensen unleashed the urge to crawl under the carpet and not come out until she died. Before leaving, Laura put some kanelbulle into the orange cardboard box where she had placed the napkin earlier. She closed it and tied it with a ribbon.

Malik didn't know what they could talk about, so they were silent the whole way. Washington, Adam, ball, all those topics were forbidden now.

"Laura, I just remembered something," she spoke up once they were walking down the street.

"Mmm?" she only muttered, looking straight ahead.

"I have a ticket to the cinema for Saturday's showing of ‘The Good, The Bad And The Ugly.’ I won't be able to go because Sarif has an important flight. Why don't you go instead of me?" she lied because she wanted to comfort her somehow.

At first, Laura didn't feel like going out at all, but eventually, she decided it was better than sitting at home and thinking. The woman squeezed the box tighter in her hands after each step she took as she walked through the lobby.

"Don't be so nervous, or you'll ruin your present. Have faith," she encouraged Laura and patted her lightly on the back as they parted on the second floor.

Miss Werner went up the stairs to the third floor and after a while down the corridor. She already saw Adam's glass office, so she slowed down. Once she was close, she noticed Adam and Megan coming out from the inside. They couldn't see her because she was approaching them from behind.

"So we'll see each other at the ball?" asked Dr. Reed.

"Yes, of course. I'll be very pleased," Jensen replied, escorting the woman to the elevator.

Laura stood motionless not far from the office entrance. When Adam turned around and walked closer, he noticed her. The auburn-haired woman was piercing him with an emerald gaze full of flowing tears. Jensen saw her trembling hands from which an orange box had fallen. He didn't have time to catch it. The ex-SWAT also didn't have time to react either because Laura immediately ran away. The Chief of Security crouched down and picked up what she had left. The ribbon prevented the content from falling out onto the floor. The smell of cinnamon made him immediately guess everything. She came to him after everything he told her. She came to see him with Megan and find out that he was going to the ball with her. It wasn't supposed to be this way, not at all. Jensen locked himself in the office, put the box on the desk, and brewed a mug of coffee. He sat in the armchair, wondering what to do. Finally, Adam slowly untied the ribbon, removed the lid, and gently took out one of the kanelbulle. After closing his eyes took a bite. It didn't taste as great as it did in Uppsala. It was bitter, more and more with each bite. Adam ate all four very slowly. He treated them like a punishment, like a lash of the whip on his bare skin. One bite – one scar. Something inside him was slowly dying.

"I never asked for this..." he whispered to himself and his hand clenched into a fist.

Unfortunately, Sarif hadn't given him the day off so Adam had to postpone his meeting with Rupert until the afternoon. Persevering for those few hours was extremely difficult. Fortunately, he didn't have to discuss anything with Laura today. Jensen had already been thinking about how he would manage to cope in Washington, but at the meeting, they had agreed they would work as two independent groups, so their contact would be cut to a minimum. That's just a small consolation. The mere sight of Laura triggers the impulses in him that he must restrain, strangle and kill for her safety. If only he had a clue, an anchor point, anything. Even while working as a police officer, he had never felt as helpless as he does now. Suddenly, like a pack of rabid dogs, the thoughts about whether he had done the right thing by listening to this psychopath caught Adam up. Maybe he had just opened the way for him to abduct Laura? Avoiding her in fact only makes the whole process easier, but how can he be close and yet keep the distance?

Miss Werner ran to her office. She was fed up with this company, the people, and most of all, Adam's lies. She had already made the only right decision. Laura booted the computer pressing the button furiously. She had the impression that today it was starting up exceptionally slowly as if it was doing that to spite her. Evie cursed under her breath a dozen times. She wanted to see Jensen dead at her feet. She wanted to see him bleed slowly and in agony. She wanted to see him suffer as she does. She wanted… She wanted everything to be like before again. Back then, when they slept in bed together, it was so magical and amazing. Yes, she would like to move farther if she had the opportunity if they both wanted it, but the most important thing was his closeness. Breath hot like a dragon’s breath on her naked skin, warmth as he hugged her, tickling of his beard. She even liked it when the scent of his perfumed water mixed with the smell of sweat. She remembered perfectly those sensual and mysterious citrus notes, a bit bitter and tart but broken with a hint of vanilla, there was also something spicy in them. Laura knew how it would all end, and yet she let herself be drawn in and enslaved by his gray-blue gaze and soft, wonderful lips. After a few deep breaths, she began to write what she should have finished long ago. Moments later, with a page of the paper, printed with rows of words, she was walking briskly to Pritchard's office. Evie was determined and was not going to back down. She didn't even knock, she did no longer care about it.

"Princess Laura forgot to knock?" Pritchard greeted her from behind the desk.

"I don't give a shit if I should knock or not," she growled. "I won't waste your time, so let's get it over with."

Frank got up from his armchair, walked over to the devices, the same ones she had once helped him fix, and checked the cables while mumbling under his breath. "You're already wasting it anyway by being here for some unknown reason, and better mind your tongue. You're lucky I'm in a relatively good mood today so I'll forgive you this impertinence. What do you want?" he got a little interested.

"No big deal," she shrugged. "Just read these few words," she said, handing him a piece of paper.

"Did you bring that corrected fragment which was fucked up by your subordinate?" Pritchard was almost happy, or at least his expression was different from the usual grimace of anger, disgust, and indifference.

Laura watched how Francis swallows the text, word by word, with his hungry eyes, frowning, squinting, and twisting his lips in a grimace of rage.

"No way!" he yelled. "I don't agree to any termination; you understand?!" Frank furiously tore apart the piece of paper. He nearly threw it on the ground and started jumping all over it.

"That's my right. I want to leave and that's it," Laura insisted. "I have to be here for three more months anyway."

"Listen to me, you brat! You have to stay at this company because I will not tolerate such bratty behavior! You WILL fly to Washington and get the job done. Then you WILL politely go to the ball even alone if Adam doesn't want to invite you," he hissed. "Well I don’t think he does," Pritchard added. "That is an ORDER! Understand?" It was a long time since he was as angry as he is today. Even Jensen had not managed to bring him to such a state.

Laura lost her temper and slapped him in the face with an open hand. "I will not go to any ball. Forget it," she ended the conversation, slamming the door behind her.

"Wait! I'm not done with you yet! " screamed Frank, rubbing his cheek.

The woman heard him perfectly as she walked along the corridor. She reached out her hand towards his office, showing the middle finger. Pritchard decided not to leave this matter and unleash hell. He knew who was responsible for what had happened and was going to take appropriate consequences. Hacker immediately went to Jensen's office and rumbled on the door for a good ten minutes before the ex-SWAT decided to give up and open the door.

"Listen, flatfoot, ex-cop, plague, and asshole! A moment ago Laura was at my office and handed me a piece of paper," he said in a raised voice.

"So what?"Adam muttered. He pretended to write something by tapping on the keyboard keys.

"It was her TERMINATION!" Francis yelled.

"Oh… Well, I am not surprised. Working with someone like you, Frank, is demanding. But it’s still not my concern."

"It IS your concern! You are the one responsible for all this, not me. So you will go to her now, say whatever you see fit, but the effect is to be as follows: Laura will stay at the company, take care of Washington as good as she can, and then politely go to the ball. Because that's the way it's supposed to be. That's all."

"You forgot about something," he said in an indifferent tone.

"About what, smart guy?!"

"Stomping your foot."

"Stop being cheeky! You know Sarif will gut us all out if anything goes wrong. Laura's trying to sabotage everything right now, and she's certainly doing it because of you."

In fact, everything that Pritchard said was the truth, but Jensen couldn’t admit it aloud. It wasn’t easy for him to just sit and listen that Laura is leaving because of his actions. Adam cared and care is not always fluffy and nice. If only he could predict Miss Werner's actions, he would try to prevent all of this from happening. It is very possible they will never see each other again. It won't be a few days, a week, a month. It means a whole life spent drowning in the midst of remorse. He wouldn't be able to live like this.

"She's your subordinate, do something yourself. If you can't control your employees then you're a lousy boss," he kept going, even though he now wanted to run out of the office straight to Laura and tell her to stay.

"You'll see I will. I won't leave it like that," Pritchard growled, and left, hitting Faridah who was just walking towards Adam’s office.

Malik decided she'd better knock because of screams heard before. Yes, both Jensen and Pritchard never got along, but the situation was extremely strange.

"I'm not interrupting?" she asked, ajar the door.

"Did you come to yell at me too?" he muttered.

"Depends on what you've romped," she tried to joke, but Jensen didn't look like he was in the mood for it.

"Don't pretend, after all, you already know that Laura gave Pritchard her termination, and he came to me with it."

"She did what?!" Malik raised her voice.

"Great, that means you're going to take it out on me too," the ex-SWAT sighed.

"I should because what you told her was, to say the least, inappropriate. If, on the other hand, I am not to play with choosing nice words; you acted like a motherfucker.

"It's still none of your business, much less Francis'."

Malik walked to the desk and sat down on it. "You know very well it's different. Uppsala changed us, carried us to a new phase, bound. Back then we were able to…"

"That was then, this is now. Past is in the past. If that's all, please leave." Faridah noticed the orange cardboard box standing on the cabinet behind him. It was empty. She wondered if they had been talking or if something else had taken place.

"Okay, but when I cross the threshold you might consider you just lost another person. If you can live with that, no problem," her tone was a mixture of icy indifference and reproach.

Adam knew she was not joking, and he needed help. He had to keep her at least, have Fly Girl on his side. Before he made up his mind, the woman was gone. Time was slowing down, torturing him and punishing him for what he had done. Jensen hardly survived until he could leave the company. He didn't go to lunch because of Laura, but he didn't feel hungry anyway. The urge to smoke grew more and more, but the Head of Security decided not to smoke before meeting with Rupert.

Detroit. Rupert MacKenzie’s house.

Adam closed the office and walked briskly across the hall. He ran down the stairs, entering the lobby in a split second. On his way through, around the desk, he answered Cindy's goodbye, not wanting to be rude. Jensen pulled up the left sleeve of his black coat and then brown sweater intending to check what time it was. He had a smartphone with him, but the old-fashioned part of his personality that was attached to traditional solutions spoke up. Another reason was that the smartphone remained turned off in order to limit any possible attempts to spy on him. Jensen decided to take the subway because Rupert lived in west Detroit, too far from the company, so walking was out of the question. When the ex-SWAT arrived at the station, he looked up at the electronic display, that informed which number was to come, which departed, and which would be in a few or so minutes. There were not many people on the platform, some of them standing, others sitting on a bench against the wall. The girl standing a bit behind Adam laughed when her friend told her a joke. Jensen was lucky because he reached the station just minutes before his line arrived. Keeping his hands in the pockets of his coat, he went inside and immediately headed to the very end of the wagon. There was no one there. Adam sat down, plugged earphones into the MP3 player, and closed his eyes. Soon the door closed with a hiss, and the Head of Security felt that they were finally on the move.

If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one Drying in the colour of the evening sun Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away But something in our minds will always stay Perhaps this final act was meant To clinch a lifetime's argument That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could For all those born beneath an angry star Lest we forget how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall Like tears from a star like tears from a star On and on the rain will say How fragile we are how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall Like tears from a star like tears from a star On and on the rain will say How fragile we are how fragile we are How fragile we are how fragile we are

For half an hour of the ride, he thought about what Laura had told him. He analyzed all the information again and sighed heavily. Miss Werner lost her parents when she was practically still a child. He didn't know who raised her, but he certainly couldn't replace her real family. Then there was Damien who kept her in a basement, raped her, humiliated her, and sold her like an object. Laura was most likely deprived of true love and care. Once she received it from him, she was again abandoned like a broken doll. He would not and could not justify himself. He had acted meanly.

He deals the cards as a meditation And those he plays never suspect He doesn't play for the money he wins He don't play for respect

He deals the cards to find the answer The sacred geometry of chance The hidden law of a probable outcome The numbers lead a dance

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier I know that the clubs are weapons of war I know that diamonds mean money for this art But that's not the shape of my heart

He may play the jack of diamonds He may lay the queen of spades He may conceal a king in his hand While the memory of it fades

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier I know that the clubs are weapons of war I know that diamonds mean money for this art But that's not the shape of my heart That's not the shape The shape of my heart

If I told her that I loved you You'd maybe think there's something wrong I'm not a man of too many faces The mask I wear is one

But those who speak know nothing And find out to their cost Like those who curse their luck in too many places And those who fear are lost

Three short bell-like sounds signaled that they had reached the destination. Adam got up from his seat and got out of the subway wagon. He crossed the platform, squeezing through the thickening crowd, and climbed the stairs. He found himself on a long street on either side of which stood rows of red brick houses with white windows and box gabled roofs. Jensen remembered perfectly where Rupert lived, although it had been some time since his last visit. After a few minutes of brisk walking, he arrived at number 101. Two low stairs led to a small, square, covered porch.

The man pressed the doorbell, and a moment later a cheerful female voice could be heard from the inside. "Just a second, Mr. Jensen!"

It still amazed Adam how Demelza knew it was him and not someone else. Yes, he had an appointment for an exact time, but that does not exclude the possibility that someone else could come at the same time. Mrs. MacKenzie, who had just opened the door for him, was a fairly corpulent woman, close in age to Rupert, who was in his mid-fifties. She had curly red hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, blue eyes that seemed to be laughing, and full lips embedded in a face with a pale pink complexion. She was wearing a flowery green dress and was wiping her hands on a frill-decorated kitchen apron.

"Rupert is already waiting. I'm glad you finally visited us. I baked cookies. You can't refuse," she said in a singsong voice as she led him through the narrow, long hall along which were the doors to the rooms. The walls were made of gray stones of various shapes and sizes and covered with portraits of ancestors, clan coats of arms, and deer antlers hanging on them. Several dark wood cabinets stood there as well, with decorative vases and bowls on them. Adam took off his coat, already wanting to hang it on the coat rack, but the woman interrupted him in mid-motion.

"And don't worry about the vase, boy."

"What v..." he did not finish because while hanging his coat he had just hit one of them. The vase fell to the wooden floor, shattering to pieces just like his life. "Sorry, I'll try to buy it back."

"I told you – don't worry," she reminded. "I have to watch the cookies. You know the way, right?" she asked, staring at his embarrassed face.

"Yes, of course," he replied, walking slowly towards the door in front of him.

Above them was a wooden plaque with an inscription: Temet Nosce carved on it. Adam was pretty sure he saw a similar one somewhere before. After a while, he recalled it was at Laura's apartment above the entrance to the kitchen. Jensen hesitated for a moment before finally knocking.

"Oh come in Adam and stop with these games of politeness," muttered an offended MacKenzie in a Scottish accent when Jensen entered the study. He actually preferred the Gaelic version: MacCoinnich, but he had to get used to the more common one.

"Yes, I know, forgive me. It's been a while since I've been here. My habits from the company spoke up," he tried to explain.

"Adam..." sighed the man sitting behind the massive desk, removing his thin-rimmed glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You'd better sit down before you come up with something stupid again," he said with a hint of playful annoyance, pointing an armchair upholstered in dark green fabric placed across from him. "Unless you'd prefer the standard session on the chaise longue," he offered, pointing the piece of furniture standing more against the wall by the bookshelves that reached up to the ceiling.

Rupert had gathered here an impressive collection of books containing some unique specimens. He was interested in history, geography, he read crime novels and horror stories, he reached for fantasy, but he did not touch psychological books for anything in the world. Of course, this concerned the non-professional sphere. Because when it comes to the professional part of him, he had read most of the literature about the human mind, behavior, or impulses that stimulate them.

"How was your day?" Rupert asked, which did not remind Jensen at all that he was visiting a psychologist at the moment. It always seemed to him that such a visit was mostly about answering a series of questions, looking at pictures of awkward shapes, and completing tests. The Scot completely changed his perception of this area of medicine.

"Fatally," he replied briefly but truthfully. MacKenzie could sense when he was lying so there was no point in concealing anything. Besides, he came to him for help, so he should be honest with himself first and foremost.

Rupert frowned, seeing that Adam wants to but cannot tell him everything. "I know a better place to talk," he said in a friendly tone in which even a shadow of a professional note could hardly be found. "Come with me, please," he encouraged with a hand gesture, rising from behind his desk.

On the left side of the study, was a narrow passage leading to the other part of the library where two armchairs stood, the same as the one Adam had sat in earlier. Between them stood a table and on it a lamp with a white pleated lampshade. MacKenzie walked freely, holding his hands behind his back. He was wearing tartan trousers having a green and dark blue pattern with white and red lines crossing each other. The man fixed the sleeves of a loose, light cream-colored linen shirt laced at the neck. Jensen looked at the brooch pinned to it depicting a flaming mountain surrounded by a belt with a gold buckle with the inscription: Luceo non uro, which meant: I shine not burn. When they sat down in the armchairs, Rupert reached for his pipe and lit it with almost ritualistic gestures. The ex-SWAT admired Scot for paying attention to such small things, which for him were common. Rupert did not smoke because he wanted to kill problems with it, he treated it as a form of art, celebrating the moment, savoring the aroma of tobacco. Before they started talking Demelza brought on a tray a plate of the freshly baked raisin and chocolate cookies, two porcelain cups, a jug with milk, a teapot of tea, and a sugar bowl. The not very tall woman did not say a word. She gave them both a cheerful smile once she had arranged everything on the table and left. This was another surprise for the Chief of Security. The woman knew perfectly well when she should enter in order not to disturb or hear something she should not know.

The Scot unhurriedly poured tea into cups. "Some milk?" he asked, to which Adam nodded affirmatively.

Jensen stirred the tea slightly with a silver spoon and set it down on a saucer, which he picked up along with the cup. He slowly took a few sips and closed his eyes. He did not know where to start and how to say it so that it was true, but at the same time not reveal everything. He was afraid he might expose Rupert as well, and he would not want that. "I doubt if anyone can help me," he muttered looking across towards the bookcase. The books were arranged thematically and then in alphabetical order. The most valuable specimens were enclosed in glass display cases, and copies took their place among the rest of the book collection.

"The lost boy doubts before he told me anything. Such little is your faith in people?" he asked with a note of indignation in his voice.

"It is all terribly complicated. I don't know what I should do. I care about someone pretty damn much, maybe even too much," he confessed quietly, leaning back comfortably against the backrest of the armchair. "Unfortunately for her sake I had to give up my feelings and stay away. I'm the only one who knows the truth, the others think I'm a monster."

MacKenzie mused for a long moment. He took a few sips of tea. "Try the cookies first, then I'll tell you something."

Adam wanted to say he didn't want those damn cookies, or tea, much less sitting around wasting time when Laura might be in danger. The Scot's narrow lips twisted into a slight smile, and his high forehead wrinkled lightly. The man ran his fingers through his red-gold short hair, which was always tousled. He knew Jensen was consumed with anger right now, that he was drowning in helplessness and frustration. He had to wait it out or else his story would just be words thrown to the wind like a handful of feathers, and he did not like to talk pointlessly. Rupert looked to his left towards the window, it was slowly getting darker, but not yet enough to turn on the light. The remnants of the sun were coming through the window in narrow streams, illuminating a few spots on the brown carpet. The neighborhood was unusually quiet as if Scot's house was in some other dimension.

Jensen reached for a cookie that instantly reminded him of the kanelbulle. He was unaware that the Scot, even by the way Adam held and ate the cookie, could read what he was feeling and thinking at any given moment.

"Sweets must be associated with pleasant memories," he stated in a measured tone that had the calmness and matter-of-factness of a psychologist. "At the same time, they cause you pain, why?"

"L... She..." he began, but Rupert interrupted him immediately.

"She has a name," his voice took on a roughness. "In this case it is important."

"Laura baked some kanelbulle while we were in Sweden. It was only two days, and I have a feeling that at least ten years have passed. It's been a long time since I felt so wonderful and alive," Adam began to open up to the therapist.

"And yet you fell and burned your wings," remarked the man while biting his cookie.

"I fell, but not of my own free will. I was forced to do this," he admitted openly, though he didn't want to.

"Listen to me, boy. I'm going to tell you something, and you will do what you want with it because I can't dictate to you how to interpret my words," MacKenzie glanced at the Chief of Security, who nodded slowly. "Not much more than thirty years ago there was a boy who was becoming a man. This boy soon met a pretty girl whom he loved with all his heart and soul. They met at every possible opportunity, celebrated every moment as if it were their last. They were planning a long life together somewhere in Scotland with a bunch of children by their side, beyond any civilization," he paused for a moment, taking another sip of the already chilled tea. "Everything was like a fairy tale, but when he came to her with the ring on which he had spent most of his savings, he saw her lovely pale pink, freckled face all in tears. In one moment he realized something bad had happened."

Adam listened attentively, casting all his problems aside. He focused his gaze on the framed photos standing on the shelf between the books. They looked like family photos.

"The girl was promised to be a wife, and her husband supposed to be some rich man over twenty years older than her. The boy was forbidden to see her. He wanted his beloved back, but he didn't know how to do that. He faced a force beyond his power, so he fell into the darkness. The boy raised sturdy walls around him and pushed away everyone close to him. When he thought all was lost, his friend came to him. At first, he furiously reminded the boy of how foolish and selfish he was, then they had a very long conversation. His friend told him one thing before leaving: United we stand and divided we fall," Rupert paused again, this time reaching for a cookie. "It was he who gave him strength. He had contacts, had unused favors with them, he pulled all possible strings, and thanks to that they managed to win the fight. The boy regained his beloved, but the rich man hurt her severely, so their dream of children was lost. Nevertheless, they are still together and have an affection that nothing can destroy."

"You were talking about yourself and Demelza, right?" Jensen asked quietly when the psychologist finished telling his story.

"It doesn't matter, Adam," Rupert let out a long sigh, focusing on the Chief of Security's face. "If you have friends, go to them. If you love – fight for it to the end."

"The last person I could call my friend left me this morning," he muttered.

Rupert shook his head, intertwining his arms across his chest. "True friends don't just go away. They only give us signs that we are straying. They always are and always will be. They wait when we realize our mistakes and learn from them."

"You still don't understand, do you? That's what friends do – they help each other." Adam was stroke by a memory of Laura’s words. What did he do for her? First promised to move heaven and earth, hire the police, SWAT, FBI, CIA even the INTERPOL and in the end, he abandoned her. The man bit his lip hardly in grief.

MacKenzie looked at the Chief of Security in silence, but with a smile. That sadness and grief were a sign of catharsis, understanding, and moving on. The lost boy’s wings are healing and soon he will be ready to fly again.

When they had finished drinking their tea, the Scot walked to the key-locked cupboard on the far-right side of the room. He took out a bottle of Girvan 47-Year-Old whisky and two glasses. Rupert poured the beverage into both of them, raising his glass in a gesture of silent toast to what each of them wished.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked savoring a sip of whisky.

"Better. I think I've figured out what I need to do, or at least how to start solving the problem," there was some optimism and a willingness to fight in his voice now.

"You're finally speaking with sense," he admitted with a smile.

"There's something else I'd like to ask, but I feel obliged to keep it a secret..." he tried to explain, but Rupert interrupted him.

"Let's start with what your intentions towards this person are," the man tried to guide Adam to make his goal clear and specific.

"I care about her. I want to help," he replied, crossing his legs.

"You have a huge heart. You can't help yourself, and yet you care about others," the Scot admitted appreciatively and took another sip of whisky. "Okay, let's put that aside. Sincere intentions, in this case, may justify breaking a secret. Besides, you know very well that everything you say is safe with me."

"How to deal with a person who was..." Jensen paused, because saying this word caused him both pain and rage. "Raped, probably for an extended period, and yet I have a feeling that somewhere deep down she is defending the perpetrator? My knowledge is quite limited, but I know of such reflexes under the name of Stockholm syndrome."

"This is what it is called in the textbook, but you know very well I don't like closing anything into terms. It would be easiest if she came here. If you don't convince her or she finds it unnecessary, there's not much you can do. Of course, support and understanding are helpful too, but not always effective. Sometimes it takes a strong jolt for a person to realize they are doing the wrong thing."

"I see," Jensen nodded slowly in thought. "I will respect her decision, whatever it would be. Although personally, I would like her to accept your help, so I will offer her this solution if at all…"

"Enough!" MacKenzie raised his voice. "You haven't even left this place, and you're already using those awful words."

The ex-SWAT smiled with the corner of his mouth. "You're right, I didn't even try to fight, and I'm already giving up."

"The three of us can always meet on neutral ground. You will not tell her who I am, maybe she will gain confidence and decide to come by herself. I know it's a little cheating, but the intentions are good."

"We'll be in touch. I'll let you know when I know something, but in the meantime, it's time for me to go. It's getting late, I'd like to take care of one more thing."

"Perhaps we can meet soon for a game of chess at Crann Tara," he suggested.

"With pleasure, Mr. MacCoinnich," Adam replied, and Rupert smiled at the words.

"I'm glad you're leaving my place changed, Adam," he said as they shook hands.

"Thank you, Rupert. The credit is all yours," Jensen replied, managing to smile a little.

The Scot shook his head. "You're the one who helped yourself. I only showed you the way. Hold on to it, and you'll see everything will be easier than you think."

As the Chief of Security was putting on his coat in the hallway, Demelza came out of the kitchen and handed him a box of cookies.

"It's really not necessary," he said with embarrassment. "Thank you."

"Everything in this world has a purpose. So if I gave you these cookies, it would be definitely for a reason," the woman smiled and walked him to the door. "Do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

Adam decided he had to act and not allow to be intimidated by Damien. The subway trip was terribly long, he hoped Faridah would still be at the company. From what he remembered, she was supposed to stay longer today. As soon as the door slid open with a soft hiss, he moved with a quick step to the exit, squeezing at times quite brutally through the crowd of people.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the company, he did not look around and did not let anyone stop him, cause at the sight of him several people already wanted to approach him with something. With a quick motion, Adam entered the code to his office and without taking off the coat he began to think how he should let Faridah know they needed to talk. He thought about asking Pritchard for help, but he would grumble too long. The box of cookies and Demelza's words began to combine into a logical whole. When telephones, the Internet, and all electronics were not known yet, people used letters for communication. Adam started looking for a scrap of paper and a fountain pen. When he found them, he wrote a few words and put the note in the box of cookies. Adam locked the office and headed to the second floor. Fortunately, there was light in Malik's office. He knocked, though he rarely did, and slowly stepped inside after permission was granted.

"What are you doing here? You should be sitting in a cozy apartment a long time ago," she muttered to him, still angry about what had happened in the morning.

"I came to apologize," he said completely calmly, handing her a box of cookies.

"Do you think you can bribe me with what's inside? Forget it," she snorted scornfully. "You acted like a simpleton and a boor."

"I did, but I'm sure you're curious about what's inside, like every woman," saying this, he looked at Faridah very suggestively, letting her know she should listen to him.

Faridah sighed. "You're such a pain in the ass," she replied, opening the box. Adam was a little afraid that the woman might pull out the card, but she didn't. "You brought me cookies. Do you want me not to fit into the flight suit?"

"You’re far from it," he muttered.

"Not bad," she admitted eating one. "But you'll have to try harder to please me," she replied, closing the box.

"I didn't count on you forgetting right away. You're probably tired and some boor is wasting your time. I'll go now, until tomorrow," he left pretending to be worried.

Adam might be paranoid, but he didn't really know how Damien worked. If he could somehow see and hear his conversation with Fly Girl, that way he would know everything. Adam hoped it came off naturally and if indeed this motherfucker had access to the cameras then he wouldn't get suspicious. Jensen had to take that risk, though originally he wanted to keep everything to himself.

A dozen or so minutes later he was at home hanging the coat on a coat rack. The man paced around the living room, smoking a cigarette. He turned on some music to calm the nerves a little. Adam sat down on the sofa and waited in the dark room, slowly losing hope. He got up. What if Rupert was wrong this time? A quarter of an hour passed, which the ex-SWAT had spent on further wandering aimlessly across the apartment. Ten minutes later an electronic voice announced he had a visitor. Jensen hurried to the door, beaming at the sight of the Chief Pilots.

"Come in, please. It's good to see you," he invited her inside and closed the door.

"Whether it's good remains to be seen," she muttered as she entered. Faridah took off her jacket and hung it next to his coat.

"No one followed you? No suspicious people? Did you turn off your phone?" he asked with a hint of concern.

"Just my shadow. No one but it. Yes, I turned it off," she replied shortly, shrugging. "You dragged me here for some unknown purpose. I'm tired so to the point please."

"Where is Laura? Is she safe?" Adam ignored her words.

"You suddenly care? Seriously? After all this?" Malik was outraged and had every right to be.

"Sit down and listen to what I have to say and then judge. Agreed?" he offered as calmly as he could.

"Agreed, but on the condition that I get a mug of coffee," she announced sitting down on the sofa. Why is it so dark in here? Do you have a power cut of some sort?"

"Safety reasons," Adam announced from the kitchen. After a while, he returned with two mugs of coffee. He handed one of them to the woman, then took a seat next to her.

"Adam please..." she began but he interrupted her.

"This is not a joke. The matter is more serious than we thought," he tried to explain everything as simple as possible.

"Of course it is! Laura was repeatedly and brutally raped and you...!" she didn't finish, she just let out a loud exhale.

"And Damien started threatening me!" he couldn't stand it and raised his voice, rapidly getting up from the sofa.

Faridah raised her eyebrows surprised by his words and blinked several times. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. What do you mean by ‘threatening’?! What are you talking about?!"

The Head of Security walked towards the window but instead of a view of the city, he only saw black shutters. "If you'd let me explain, we would have gotten this over a long time ago. Can I speak?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head towards her.

"Yeah, sure," she said with a soft voice. "Forgive me for being so rude," Malik added apologetically and took a few sips of her coffee.

"It started with a lock of hair and a note that someone had taped to my door the same evening I walked Laura to your place. I determined that I wasn't going to give in to some blackmailer I knew nothing about. I've known similar cases. They always hit a sensitive spot hoping that the person will succumb." Jensen returned to the sofa, sat down, and rested his elbows on his thighs. "The next day passed calmly so I was convinced even more that it was just a clumsy attempt of intimidation, nothing more. Unfortunately, the last time Laura and I worked together at my office, he decided to show himself again. We call him Damien but we don't really know who he is. We were supposed to go out for lunch when I got the message. He ordered me to watch as Laura dies," the ex-SWAT looked at the woman who didn't know how to react. "I saw it with my own eyes. She fell lifeless to the ground," Adam said, trying not to raise his voice. He stretched out his arms slightly in front of him, palms open towards the ceiling, wanting to accentuate his words, emphasize their importance. "He told me to stay away from her. So I obeyed."

"You didn't have to tell her all that. Laura now punctuates that she's a slut in every spoken word. I know that doesn't help you at all, but I tell it like it is."

"Yes, it was mean, inhuman, and beneath my dignity, but I wanted to be believable, to push her away… Anyway, you're right, I don't have a good explanation for that. I don't expect everything to be like it used to be, I am aware of it. I just want you to know," his husky voice was filled with pain and remorse.

"You had no choice, you wanted to protect her," she said softly. "It must be awful living with this," she bit her lip, set the mug down on the coffee table, and ran her fingers through her cropped black hair. "I have no idea what to do. How is it even possible that he has control over her?"

"I asked Frank about it. I thought he could somehow control her through the prosthetic leg, but the hacker denied it. If that wasn't enough, Laura heard my conversation with Megan about the ball."

"I persuaded her to talk to you. She took a few... With her... Oh, fuck…" Malik cursed quietly, covering her face with her hands. "What have I done..."

They were both equally broken and helpless, but at least Jensen wasn't left alone with it all.

"Laura can't leave the company. I won't let that happen," the ex-SWAT growled. "And she has to be at that ball. I don't know how to do it, but I'm not allowing any other possibility."

"Apparently Pritchard is incredibly mad at her. He ordered Laura to be at the ball but knowing her temper... You know best yourself."

"I know. Laura is ready to leave me with all this Washington mess. Anyway, it is the least important. She doesn't even care that Sarif will close her doors to all companies with one nod." the man looked down blankly at the floor and carpet.

"Adam, look at me," she ordered him calmly. "This was beyond your power. You can't predict someone else's behavior," she tried to lift his spirit as he looked in her direction. "I'll try to persuade Laura to go to the ball, but I doubt she'll agree. How long are you going to listen to this psycho anyway?"

"As long as it takes," he answered shortly and firmly.

"You know... I'm not going to lecture you, after all, you worked in the police, but you have no guarantee that Laura will survive." Maybe you're just helping him carry out a sick plan?"

"I've thought about it for a very long time, but what choice do I have?" he asked irritably.

"Tell her?" Faridah suggested the simplest solution. "I can do it myself. Damien will suspect nothing."

"Out of the question," Jensen protested firmly. "Assuming Laura will believe and understand, she will definitely want to do something stupid, or at least tell me not to worry."

"So I have to remain silent until further notice, and you will wait for the situation to resolve itself? Great!" she snorted.

"That's exactly what you're supposed to do. I shouldn't tell you anything at all. But..." Adam suspended his voice, rubbed his temple.

"But?" Malik looked at him attentively, waiting for him to finish.

"I treat you like someone I trust, like a… friend. That's why I decided that you should know and perhaps manage the situation properly when I can't," he said, feeling the words are struggling to pass his throat. "Of course, I don't require anything of you," he added.

"I will try to control the chaos, however, we cannot wait forever.

"Give me time until the ball. Then I'll try to explain it all to her myself somehow."

"You said that guy wrote to you. Show her the messages. That's your best option," she suggested while sipping her cold coffee.

"I don't have the messages. He deleted them. I don't know how or when, but they're gone," anger mixed with fatigue could be heard in Adam's voice. "I thought Frank would help me find a clue but alas."

"There has to be a trace, anything. It's impossible to be that thorough. Maybe Pritchard missed something?"

"I'll try to talk to him again tomorrow, but you can understand how hard it is to talk about a problem in a way that you can't tell who is involved. Besides, I doubt he'll want to do anything after today's row." Adam sighed lighting a cigarette.

"Approach him tricky. Tell Francis that thanks to this Laura will stay in the company, and if he starts asking questions, you can gracefully tell him to keep his fat nose out of your business." Malik grabbed Adam's left wrist, on which he wore an elegant watch. She wanted to check what time it was, at which the man raised his eyebrows as if to ask what she was up to. "I'll go now. I'm falling off my feet, and more flights tomorrow. No flight today? Flight tomorrow! There’s always flight tomorrow!" Faridah mumbled while getting up from the sofa. "And you shouldn't smoke that much. You won't solve any problems with it, and you will only harm yourself," she instructed him, at the same time reminding Adam that someone had said similar things to him not so long ago.

Adam wanted to believe that it would get better and that everything would somehow sort itself out. Unfortunately, there were no signs of that. When Faridah left, he took a quick shower. Jensen felt a little better when he shared his burden, but at the same time, the thought that he had dragged another person into this overwhelmed him.

Detroit. Faridah’s Apartment.

Laura was sitting on the sofa sipping hot cocoa and stroking Stalker who was napping in her lap. She was wearing gray sweatpants and an orange t-shirt that Faridah had to lend her. She had stuffed the one from Adam deep in the closet, not wanting anything to do with it. The woman was just listening to a broadcast on a new radio station called The Masquerade. She knew Malik would be back late, so she could afford to spend time in the company of cheap, romantic stories with a drop of vampire blood. Besides, whoever told these stories had an unearthly, deep voice that made her shiver. Clutching a pillow with a blush on her cheeks, she sank into this unreal world.

 "The fire still burns brightly in the marble fireplace, fancy shadows fall on the floor and furniture, fueling the mystery of this place. The silence foretells the arrival of someone long-awaited. You are alone here, but you get the feeling that someone is constantly watching your every move. As you try to figure out how you ended up here, there is only a void in your mind. You can say what you have been doing all day, with whom you have been meeting, and what you talked about, but if someone asked about this particular detail, only a quiet 'I don't know' would come out of your mouth. You hear the steady ticking of the antique clock, standing against the wall and the creaking of the parquet floor as you step carefully across the room. You stand on an arterial blood-colored carpet that features a sword crossed with a scepter, both embroidered with gold thread. For you, they are just drawings, but for the master of this house something much more important. You walk to the armchair covered with blue fabric, you touch the armrest and the bat wing that adorns the upper part of the backrest. You walk behind the armchair, your fingers brushing over the other wing. Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Cain who killed Abel. Next to the armchair on a round wooden table, you notice a bottle of the noble 18-year-old, 0 RH- Quality True Blood, and you become more and more anxious.

 "What is going on here?" - you ask yourself.

 Unfortunately, your question will remain unanswered for some time."

Laura felt disappointed that the story was already over, but the announcer comforted her with the news that there would be a continuation tomorrow. She further added that the mysterious voice would stay with listeners for longer because it funds the ‘Rendezvous with V’.

Faridah returned about half an hour later. Only now did she turn on the phone. She looked like human wreckage, so Laura took care of her again, rushing to brew some tea, for which the woman was extremely grateful. Malik went to take a shower and wash her hair which gave her a huge relief after everything she had heard from Adam. At least she was assured that Jensen had no ill intentions and the methods he had chosen were a necessity. Dressed in a loose gray blouse with long cold-shoulder sleeves and black boy-shorts with orange trim she returned to the living room.

"I heard you were leaving the company," she said as she sat on the sofa next to Laura and took a sip of Earl Gray's hot tea.

"Do we have to talk about this?" she asked displeased.

"Yes, because you are making a huge mistake and I'm going to remind you of that until you start thinking logically and rationally," she said firmly but without anger.

"It's my decision. I'm an adult..." she tried explaining, but Malik interrupted her.

"Then act like an adult. Adam acted like an idiot and you want to give him the satisfaction and walk away? Seriously?" she tried appealing to her explosive nature, to bring back that old desire to compete with Jensen, even hatred. Anything just to stay and channel those feelings in the right direction.

"I don't care," she muttered squeezing the pillow tighter.

"Show him what he's losing, let him see, let his jealousy eat him up. He's just a guy, and his main command center is between his legs. Bring him on his knees. Revenge is a dish best served cold," she encouraged her, though perhaps a little too strongly.

"I'm not Megan," she said indifferently.

"It is true. You're better than her, different. You can have anyone. Adam isn't the only man in the world. Don't give him the satisfaction, be like you were at the beginning."

Laura was starting to believe Faridah's words. Why should she be the one to give in, tuck her tail, and walk away? Let Jensen suffer as much as she does now.

"I'll stay at the company, but I have nothing good to wear at the damn ball. I spent most of my money on... Never mind."

"Tomorrow we will calmly review all the options and decide what to do next. Maybe I can lend you money. Just don't protest."

Laura nodded slowly and headed for the shower. Faridah's phone a moment later signaled that she has a new message. She reached for it thinking it was Adam curious as to how her conversation with Miss Werner had gone.

 "You want to have her blood on your hands too?"

All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

[goldshadowsarchive]

@shesnikt : “How do the deer fly?” / for jess? holidays / accepting

deep inhale. lips are pressed together as she glances at laura over her shoulder and gives her a stern look. hoping to keep up the facade of holiday magic for the child in front of her. " they obviously use their magic, laura. what, you don't think santa's deer have magic ? come on ! " turning back around, there's a sweet smile on her face again. " go see if you can spot them in the sky somewhere. " the child happily hops away from them. once they were gone, jess lets out a sigh as she faces laura. " you can't just ask that. they will take it and run with it and soon the whole thing unravels. "