#oh fucking hell rest in pieces my shattered sanity

[preciousqiqi]

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[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Five - Consolation

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, grief, the aftermath of that death...all that Jazz! Plus a lil moment I’ve been fucking itching to include.

Chibs's breath was stuck in the middle of his throat, jutting thickly the more he thought about Opie cradling Donna's sallow cheeks as she bled out onto the gravel.

It'd cut deep, this one.

So many bodies he had bared witness to over the years. So many lives lost and souls snatched and whatever else right before his undaunted eyes--but nothing really hurt as much as that.

Because he knew what it was like. How it maimed a man. How it felt like his world was hurtling toward the chasms of hell during the moments after arriving at the scene and seeing his wife there. Dead.

Cold and dead and lonely. And completely gone.

Guilt resided, too. It was true tangible remorse for the simple proficiency of; that should've been me.

It happened with Diane--it happened to Chibs's wife, the mother of his kid, and the one true light in his life right after Isla. And it should've been him.

It was brutal, the way it happened tonight. It was fierce and heartless and Chibs knew in a flash that those bullets struck the wrong skull.

He couldn't bear the reverberation anymore, the gutturals from Piney's son who'd just lost his wife for no good reason during a drive-by in their quaint little town. The town that'd swelled wickedly with corruption these last few weeks.

Stahl was at the scene before he left. Looking pensive, actually. She looked guilty.

Chibs's basic instinct had landed the blame at her door--put the blood on her hands--but he kept his mouth shut for fear of what'd happen next. He didn't think that SAMCRO could handle this.

Because this wasn't a product of Mayan or Niner rivalry. He wasn't stupid--he knew that his President had something to do with this.

This was cultivated from the seeds sown by June Stahl, the pips planted so very deeply into the mind of Clay Morrow which forced him to believe that Opie Winston was a rat.

And he wasn't. He'd never sell his club out--no matter the damage, the pain inflicted upon him--and he'd never dream of pinning the fault on his brothers.

But he had to look a little bit closer to home if he wanted those answers. If he wanted to know just who sniped Donna--a completely innocent woman caught in the most ferocious of crossfires--he had to turn to someone that he knew was culpable of such activity.

Chibs's heart ached. It impaired him so very deeply that the only thing he could visualize on the ride back to Jax's house was her face.

Her face that dripped blood. Saturated crimson plagued his thoughts and forced his stomach to churn vociferously. He felt sick now.

He felt sick because Opie had lost his wife, Piney had lost a crucial member of his small family, and her kids had lost their mother. The woman that had worked so tirelessly to provide a life for them, to love and care for them unconditionally no matter what.

Opie was strong, he knew that--but he didn't know if he was strong enough to handle this. This crippling weight, this hurt and the idea of what could've been done differently.

Because so much could've happened to prevent this.

His tongue had become inoculated with bile, acrimonious ire for whoever the fuck was to blame for such unnecessary brutality--and, really, Chibs knew that he didn't have to look much further than Isla's favorite blue-eyed heathen this time.

And that broke his heart because of the pedestal she held that man upon. The pedestal she'd always held him atop, so fucking highly, too.

She knew that he was bad--an inherently bad human being--but he was just Tig. Her buddy. Clay's right hand that, really, he'd always count on. No matter what. And he'd always deliver the king's request, too.

Tig was the one that Isla called when her car broke down on the freeway and she needed to get home in time for Gemma's dinner.

The one she turned to for cheering up because he always knew how to crack a smile and get through to her.

The one that she strangely respected the most. Nobody really recognized what it was about that man that had Isla overjoyed when in his presence, she just was. And that was part of his charm.

But her father was anxious, now. Worried that she would take this news--if it came to light--badly. Because it was going to break her heart, regardless.

It was how she would handle it, which was the true hardship.

"Christ." Chibs's voice struggled to materialize, gesturing to his daughter passed out on Jax's couch. "How long's she been sleepin'?"

Mascara and eyeliner and whatever the fuck else she'd painted onto her face had started to melt away, trails of black and grey faintly running her cheeks.

"'Bout an hour." Gemma responded, sniffling back the putrid emotion she'd so obviously let flood the moments leading up to their arrival.

Jax's stomach was doing backflips at the thought of Isla crying herself to sleep in his living room--after everything that he'd put her through, too.

He feared that this was going to be the tip of the iceberg. That this was going to pulverize her sanity and compromise everything she had sought to fight off these last few days.

And he couldn't help but harbor those same suspicions as her father, either. Jax wanted to keep his mouth shut until he was certain that this was an inside job, but he was teetering toward that conclusion regardless.

It was the only viable explanation.

He, too, worried about what this would do to her. That finding out Tig was the potential culprit and reason why Opie's children were officially motherless.

"How's Ope?" She continued, already knowing the answer but asking anyway. Jax's head shook. "Oh."

"Not good, ma. But he's home now."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Yeah--I followed him back to make sure he got there in one piece. He wanted to leave the second the fuckin' ATF stormed in."

"Oh." Gem repeated herself, running her fingers through Isla's hair as she rested in her lap. "What about Clay? Where'd he get to?"

Chibs took a seat at one of the wooden chairs that'd been positioned around the coffee table, and Jax sank into the couch opposite the girls.

It was pitiful. Darkness enveloped them as Isla slept, innocently resting as the world shattered around her.

She wasn't oblivious to the happenings. She hadn't slept through it all, but she was done. Isla had been distant for days, had been fretting over the unimaginable and Gemma was worried that she was going to make herself sick if she continued the way that she was.

So she twisted her fingers and nails through the flowing waves of golden blonde, and soothed her the same way that she always did.

The same way that she found comfort as a kid.

He sighed. Exhausted. "Dunno. Last I saw he was with Tig."

"Aye." The Scot agreed with a nod, too. Hating the thought of Trager being responsible for something like this.

But it was merely a suspicion that Chibs hoped and prayed would get debunked sooner or later.

"Did he say anything?"

"Nah. He talked a little to Unser--seems to think it was a hit on Ope gone wrong--so, I guess they're gonna be lookin' into the Niners."

"Aye." Chibs spoke again, gesturing to Isla. "Did she say much when we left?"

"Not really--she just busied herself and cleaned up with Wendy. Seems like they're getting along now."

Jax smiled a bit, happy that his best friend and the mother of his child were starting to accept the presence of one another in Abel's life.

Truly, that's all he really wanted. That and his mother finally being able to turn the other cheek, and quit castigating his kid's mom.

"Did Clay leave before you?" Gemma asked, antsy. She was itching to get home, itching to see and comfort her husband because she knew that he was going to be fretting over this.

"I told you, the last I saw, he was with Tig. Dunno if he left after us, or if he's still there."

She looked away, smoothing her thumb over Isla's cheek.

"He'll be home soon--I should take off."

"Not on your own." Jax upheld, simply terrified of what could've happened to his mother had she left alone.

As far as Jax wanted her to know, this was bad blood between clubs. This was a hit put out on an innocent bystander because they knew it'd jolt SAMCRO--and it did.

It shook them to the very fucking core, jutting them repeatedly--mere moments away from crumbling and completely disintegrating into Harley Davidson dust.

And he really didn't want to admit that this was the work of his step-father and Alexander Trager. But he feared that was the only viable explanation.

"I'll--eh--I'll take her back." Chibs offered, getting up to ghost a hand over Isla's blushed cheek. "I was gonna take her home with me tonight, but I think she's better off stayin' put."

Jax agreed with a nod, smiling weakly at his mother. Though, she knew it was a coverup. A not-so-brilliant facade and attempt at showing that he was okay during this barbarous time.

"I don't wanna wake her." She mused, pushing strands of hair from her face. "She looks so damn peaceful."

Gemma hadn't a cozy moment with Isla for a while--not since she was recovering from a broken heart four summers ago.

The last time that she turned to Gemma--the same way she would as a child--for that motherly comfort.

"I know." The older man crouched to the ground, tracing faintly along her arm. Isla grumbled, slowly rousing. "C'mon petal, it's gettin' late."

He kept a hand against her, running this thumb over the freckled skin softly. Diane's crucifix caught his eye as she shifted, impairing him that little bit more tonight.

"What time is it?" She asked roughly, feeling a sting in her throat. Isla lifted herself off of Gemma's lap, rubbing at her eyes. "Is it late?"

"It's about one o'clock."

"Shit." Her hiss was sharp, galled that she'd been allowed to rest for so long whilst there was a literal wildfire sweeping its way through the club. "Ope--oh my god--Opie. Is he okay?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Jax was about to say before he even opened his mouth, and so tears ensued. Crystalline hues weeped and watered, and he was unsettled.

Unsettled because she was so strong in the face of such tragedy, rarely shedding any tears before an audience.

Unsettled because, up until the Kohn incident, Jax hadn't seen her cry since she was shot in the knee after three Mayans decidedly stormed the T M lot and strived to gun down each and every person on the premises.

He never forgave himself for that, actually. Because those bullets--though completely un-fatal and leaving a simple mark that, really, Isla referred to as her battle scars--should've been for him.

"He went home. To be with the kids." Jax cleared his throat, kneeling in front of her when Chibs got to his feet and gestured for Gemma. "He's--uh--he's in a bad way."

"Understandably." She mumbled. "Any ideas on who did this?"

Your favorite son.

"No. Clay thinks it might've been the Niners--shits been off since they decided to pull their fucking guns on us after the warehouse was raided."

"That was their rationale?"

"I guess so." He added. "It'd make sense. We lost their guns, so we lost a life--"

"But Donna." Isla argued, sitting upright. "Donna was innocent."

"We know that, love, but Laroy was probably under the impression that Ope was the one behind the wheel." Her father spoke over Jax, heeding his uncertainty. "It wasn't meant to be her."

Chibs had to blow his theory out of the water, firstly.

"A life is a life. To them, so long as they've got one of ours--someone close to us--they've succeeded with somethin'--"

"All they've succeeded with is leaving two kids without a fucking mother." Isla spat, throwing away the small blanket that Gemma had draped over her as she stood up. "And you've gotta stop being so fucking insensitive."

Jax stumbled backwards, watching her storm out of the room in her pretty little summer dress. He couldn't surmise whether following behind or leaving the woman to simmer alone, was the best idea.

It was a touchy subject, the loss of a parent. It was prickly and raw and it never ceased to strike Isla's heart. Because she understood.

She understood how much it hurt. The uncertainty of it all. Not knowing what to do next. How life changes more than what anyone ever prepares you for and, really, how nothing is ever the same again.

Isla knew it all too well. She'd been there, done that, and refused to go back. But with Chibs's life, his line of work, she was never granted that security.

And it wasn't particularly the security that she wanted, more so the knowledge of what--god forbid anything--would happen to her father. Because that's what bothered her the most about Diane.

She never knew anything about her mother's passing.

Jax got a pretty tight grip on the concept, too. But it was different with Isla--it was something she never quite grasped.

"A life is a life," Gemma mocked the insensitivity from the baffled Scotsman, shaking her head. "That wasn't just any life, Chibs. That was Opie's woman, the mother of his children, and one of Isla's oldest friends--she was family. She wasn't just a life."

His lips twitched before he exhaled sharply, knowing that she was right.

Knowing that his response was much too unsympathetic and heartless and, really, he was an idiot to forget how upset she got whenever something that pertained to the death of her mother was brought up.

"Your kid is grieving. She's grieving for Ope, for Piney, for Kenny and Ellie--for herself because this--" she gestured to nothing in particular, but he understood, "--is something she knows all too well, ain't it? Diane?"

"I know." Tersely, he responded. He pulled a hand through his hair. "I fuckin' know how she feels, but I didn't think she'd storm out when I said it!"

"Well, she's always been unpredictable."

"I know." His riposte was braided with anger, pure fury.

"Then why'd you say it?" Gemma jabbed. "Isla has been about six thousand miles away from us these last few days, and you thought that saying such a stupid thing wouldn't tip her over the edge?"

She was defensive of the blonde--always had been.

And Jax was sick of it.

Sick of the back-and-forth between the two. Sick of that holier than thou bullshit from Gemma--pretending that she wasn't thinking the same fucking thing--and sick of the way Chibs cared more to argue than to go after his daughter.

"Make sure Wendy stays if you two leave--I'm going."

"Where?" Chibs demanded.

But Jax just glared at him, stuffed his hands in both pockets, and walked straight out of the house.

It was cooler, now. The breeze had hit him square in the face the second he stepped over the threshold, and it was nice. To feel a little breeze that'd inevitably take the edge off of the lament sizzling away inside of him, was nice.

It was short lived, though. The second he realized that he couldn't see Isla--that she was completely out of sight--dragged him straight back down to earth, and the panic had set in.

He trusted her, of course he knew that she wasn't going to do anything stupid because she valued her life too much, and she wanted to do great things. So many great things.

But Jax also knew her too well. Well enough to know that the first place she would've thought about storming toward was the Clubhouse--the place that she'd find Tig.

And under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have rushed to get to her before she had a chance to get to T M. But the possibility of walking in and discerning Trager's inconsolable fury--his resentment and self-loathing--was much too great a risk for Jax to take.

He had to intercept.

He had to save her before she got the chance to set foot onto the property.

But, realistically, Jax was more than aware that Isla was probably already halfway there by now, and weaving through the unusual bustle of traffic in his small town just wasn't worth it.

"Shit." He growled, hopping onto his bike regardless. Saving a sliver of hope that he'd find her tonight.

He wasn't exactly optimistic, though. Because she'd already stormed four blocks.

Isla wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body--feeling the cold a bit more than what Jax had earlier--and hastily made her way downtown.

Surprisingly enough, she didn't fear the short walk toward the garage, but it was chilling. The thought of Donna's killer roaming freely, parading around that neighborhood, was daunting.

But she wasn't scared.

Or, at least, Isla wasn't scared until she heeded the red and blue flashing lights right in the middle of the intersection. The apparent murder scene.

Her heart sank, actually. The organ dropped to her stomach, pulsating slowly--barely--at the sight of Charming PD, CSI, and her. The group scattered, conversing, and speculating.

It was horrible. Sick.

She'd seen this before. She'd seen deaths and murders, and whatever came during the moments following. But she hasn't felt this way before.

The incapacitating throb. The discomfort and grief for such a horrendous--albeit freak--accident. And she wasn't stupid. She was as cognizant as her father and as empathetic as Jax, and she knew just as well as those two that this was not a purposeful attack.

Whether it was a consequence of Mayan or Niner misconduct, it was a wrongful onslaught that was about to cull an entire family. An entire charter.

If it hadn't already, that was.

She choked around the swell in her throat, padding along the sidewalk. She took her time, but she wasn't slow by any means. She had a place to be, and a specific person that she had to see--to talk to because she didn't know how to cope with this.

And it wasn't exactly her place to mourn for Donna. She hadn't been involved with her for some five years and she felt bad about the pair unable to rekindle their friendship. She felt bad about grieving the loss of Opie's wife--about taking the focus away from him.

But it hurt. It hurt so much--it sliced deeply, through flesh and tendon and bone--and she knew that Tig wouldn't judge her for this inveterate sorrow. He wouldn't see her as selfish or stupid for wanting to project her sincerities, her emotions.

Her heels clicked across the yard and she smiled a little bit when she passed Juice and Tig's bikes beside one another, letting her know that she wasn't going to be alone in there.

She was scared now, though. Because she hadn't talked about this yet. Hadn't talked about how she felt and how she was going to approach Opie the next time she saw him.

"Juice?" Isla squeaked from the doorway, waiting for him to turn around and run to her, or something. But he didn't move, didn't lift his head.

It was dreary inside. The lights had been dimmed, the men surrounding the tables and bar were downtrodden, and Isla felt as though she'd just walked through the gates of hell.

The vibrancy and boisterous nature of SAMCRO had come to a complete standstill, and she was actually yearning for the sleaze that usually enveloped the space.

Her sigh was defeated, forlorn. She sniffed as her nose ran, making her way to the bathroom to go and clean herself up--because she knew that she looked dreadful, and didn't want anybody to really see her that way.

"Is anyone in here?" She asked softly against the locked door, knowing that the answer was yes and that Tig was the occupant--but she persisted, anyway.

The mellifluous rhythm bled through the oak, jolting him still as blood poured from the gash in his head, and shattered glass surrounded his frame and the sink.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, glaring monotonously at himself in front of the mirror. Glaring at the fucking monster that was about to welcome Isla into open arms, comforting her because he knew that she'd need it.

"Yeah," He opened up, smiling down at her. "But I'm done, if you wanna--"

"What happened to you?" She put a hand against his chest, pushing him back into the room. Her brow furrowed when he didn't respond. "Tiggy?"

His entire body winced at Isla's soft touch. At the way her pink nails traced over the patch of skin on his chest, uncovered by his shirt--the shirt he was going to burn after tonight.

She gently gripped at his chin, turning his face to the right to get a better look at the incision on his left. Her eyes filled again, lips turned downward.

"Let me clean you up."

"You don't gotta--"

"I do." Isla cut him off, blinking away her tears. "If it doesn't get treated, it might get infected."

Like father, like daughter--always the first person to tend to an injury. She was so loving, so benevolent. Nothing like him, he thought.

Tig watched her maneuver around the tiny bathroom, admiring her desire to patch him up. To care for him and help make him feel better.

Not much would've helped at that moment, but she was trying her best.

"How'd you get over here?" He asked, leaning against the sink.

"I walked--"

"You walked?" Pissed, Tig spat. "Jesus fuck, Isla, you can't walk these parts alone, anymore."

She looked up at him from the spot she was crouched at, sifting through a small first-aid kit in the cabinet. "Who said I was alone?"

"Were you?" His eyes narrowed. She got to her feet, putting the small plastic box beside him, looking his face over a few times.

Her head shook. "Nope. Never alone with these thoughts."

Tig couldn't not chuckle at her response, but he was still worried about her. He didn't worry often--he was too selfish for that--but anything to do with his favorite blonde saw him panic like a madman.

"And the voices, too." She mused, breaking out into a genuine smile the first time all evening. "They always keep me real good company."

"Yeah?" Isla's head bobbed, cupping his chin again. "Me too--me 'n you don't seem to be too different after all, baby."

"Never said that we weren't." She poked her tongue out a little bit, surveying the damage. "Never said that we were the same, either."

"We're not the same." He confirmed, curling his hand around her wrist as she held an alcohol pad above his cut. "We are not the same, Isla."

Her head tilted, trying to discern what he meant. But she couldn't, and it caused an uncomfortable shiver to flicker down her spine.

"This might hurt." She whispered in an attempt to dissipate the small tension, gently running her thumb over his chin.

The other was--alongside her pointer finger--tapping the small antiseptic against the wound. She frowned the more he winced, though Tig's smile and hold on her wrist was still present.

"I like the pain."

"I know you do, Tiger." Isla joked. But she couldn't help wondering how the fuck he managed to do this to himself tonight.

Why he would do this to himself tonight.

"I don't wanna have to stitch your pretty face up," she pursed her lips and got him to hold the cotton in place.

"You think I got a pretty face?"

"The prettiest." Her retort was instantaneous, missing that usual glint of something resembling a joke.

She was serious--she wasn't engaging in that usual banter with him today. She was too run down for it, actually.

"Gonna have to give you a couple of butterfly stitches, if that's okay?" Isla looked up at him, holding out the small bandages with a smile. "It won't hurt. And they'll probably dissolve in, like, a week or so."

"Go for it. I love when you play nurse."

She lightly whacked at his chest, laughing as she got him to sit on the closed toilet lid to get a better reach. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. Isla needed him to lower his height if she wanted to successfully repair him.

The comfort, the aid and assistance had him forgetting about tonight--had her forgetting the real reason for her impromptu arrival to the clubhouse--but not forgetting about the newfound misery that encircled SAMCRO.

"You alright?" He asked when she hadn't made a movement, when her eyes seemed to focus on the shelves above the tank of the toilet. "I can do it myself, if you don't wanna--"

"I wanna." The smile she produced was fake--uncomfortable as tears rolled down perfectly blushed cheeks.

It broke his heart. Everything she was doing and saying--and even feeling because her pain was palpable--was breaking his heart and Tig felt like hell for doing this.

"I'm sorry," she stuck the first stitch to his forehead carefully, getting him to rip off the back of the second because her fingers were too shaky to get a solid grip.

"Don't be." He handed it to her. "It's been a tough night."

Her laugh was humorless, dull. "You can say that again, Tiggy."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." She sent him an apologetic look, but he got it.

Isla trusted him with her life--for some reason--but she found it hard to open up sometimes. In regards to something this serious, she struggled to get a solid handle on her emotions and how to express them.

He understood her, though. Understood her well enough, her mannerisms and thought processes, and he just wondered if she felt like divulging her pain tonight.

She didn't, though. And Tig didn't particularly mind that. He didn't want to feel that twisted pang of regret, the vehement churn of his stomach whenever she said Donna's name--which she was yet to do, and she probably wouldn't at this point, either.

"I just wanna cry." She stated plainly, not even reluctantly anymore.

Like Gemma, he hadn't seen her cry for a long time. And it wasn't a nice visual, actually.

But he was supportive, and just wanted her to do anything that'd make her feel somewhat better--so he encouraged it.

Isla put everything down, gave his face the once over for the last time, and set herself on the tile with her back to the door.

"You wanna cry? Do it, baby. If it'll help, just do it." He assured, getting to the ground beside her. "I know you don't like doin' it in front of me, but I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want."

"You make me seem like a battle ax." Isla quipped, sniffling. "I don't care if anyone sees me cry--everyone knows that I do. It's just..."

"Showing vulnerability ain't a nice thought. I know."

God. She hated how well he understood her. How he knew what she was going to fucking say. All the time.

Tig wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Instinctively, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I get it." He stated mindlessly, pushing tousled blonde strands from her forehead. "But y'know you can always trust me, kid. I'll never tell anyone that you feel emotions--"

"I'm literally the most emotional person you all know." Isla protested weakly, hoping he didn't mind the feeling of her tears bleeding through his shirt.

He didn't.

"I just don't really like crying. It's not a true testament to my character--I'm supposed to be the happy one around these parts. The sickeningly optimistic Irish girl--"

"You can still be a crier, too."

"I know." She finally wrapped her arms around his middle as they sat together. "But people just don't take girls seriously when they cry. And I don't want my position here to be compromised, I guess. I don't want my dad, or Gemma, or Clay to think I can't handle being around the club anymore--because I can. And I always will."

"They wouldn't think different of you for that." He promised, rubbing circles over her shoulder the more he felt the navy cotton dampen. "This is a real tough thing, Isla, nobody is gonna chastise you for shedding a tear. They'd probably think different of you if you didn't cry."

"You think?"

He nodded.

"Crying shows that you got empathy and a heart. We all know your heart is bigger than..." Thick eyebrows crumpled together before he let out a little chuckle. "Bigger than Clay's ego. It's huge, your heart."

"Well, it's gotta be. If I wanna love all of you--warts 'n all--my heart has gotta be huge."

"Exactly," he drew out his response, earning a laugh and something reminiscent of an optimistic smile from her.

Trager never saw himself as the kind of man to make a girl smile or laugh after a little pep talk--after or before incredible sex, perhaps, but never as a result of his unusually comforting nature.

But he just had that effect on Isla--something she wasn't able to extrapolate verbally. Something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to comprehend, either.

"You've just gotta try not to make yourself too vulnerable, that's all, 'cuz people will get used to coddling you. And I know that's now what you want."

"That's what I mean." She frowned, pulling herself away a bit. "I don't wanna be seen as inferior for being able to cry about the things that you, or Gem, or dad, are able to keep a poker face over. I'm just...I'm just thin-skinned sometimes, and I'm yet to be desensitized to this stuff, I guess."

"You're not thin-skinned for crying tonight." He scolded, knowing that she didn't want to elucidate her thoughts about the happening, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Desensitization don't mean shit when you've lost someone you care about--it's always gonna hurt, sweetheart. Always. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop that."

He was the one with misty eyes, now. He was the one trying to bite back tears, trying to conceal the spread of his sadness--the uncomfortable soreness in his chest. In his heart that wasn't anywhere near as big and full as hers.

"You're never gonna grow immune to grief--I promise you'll always feel that. Whether you show it--how you show it--is another thing, though."

"You feel it?"

"Tonight?"

"In general."

She couldn't seem to recall the last time that she saw him cry--if she'd ever seen it, actually. Aside from this moment, of course.

Tears fell to the apples of his cheeks and she, without any reluctance, used the pad of her thumb to brush them away.

And he got it, now. The idea of showing vulnerability being a fucking liability. Because the pity washing over her soft, beautiful features made him feel fragile.

"All the time. All the fuckin' time."

"It really never goes away?"

"No." Tig sniffed harshly, forcing a smile. "But you learn to cope. You learn that it ain't the end of the world and that life just goes on after death."

"Profound." She chuckled once again. "That's some deep, deep shit, Tigger. Almost made me forget about how much I wanna hysterically break down."

"Do it. That'll make me feel better about my injury."

"Your self-inflicted injury." Isla stated knowingly, but she didn't clarify just what she meant.

Because it could've been an array of things, but he liked to think that she was just referring to his little forehead aperture.

"I like it. It makes you look badass." Isla held a hand out to Tig when he pulled himself upward, and she wanted to follow suit.

"Does it make me look hot, too?"

"Absolutely." Again, it wasn't laced in a tease. It was honest, and the small smile she produced was sincere. "Be careful with it, though. Try not to get it wet or anything, because it'll dissolve too soon--"

"I've had them before, y'know?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Isla rolled her eyes. "You're a super scary, malicious, calculating guy when you've gotta be. But I know that you're accident prone."

He curled his eyebrow upward. "Scary?"

"Totally. I've seen you hold a gun to a guy's head." A chill impaired her, frightening her. "Shits terrifying, Tig. Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"You couldn't even if you tried."

"You think?" Her qualm was unexpected, almost challenging him as she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. "I think I could."

What's she playing at? She was sobbing two minutes ago.

Oh, I get it. This is her facade--actin' all care free, and shit.

Tig followed behind--every step--as she clicked along the wooden floor of the clubhouse.

"You couldn't. Trust me." He stated lowly, reaching for her hand when she stuttered a little.

Isla noticed her father next time Juice, drinking at the bar with their backs to the duo. She didn't want to see him, right now.

Talking to Chibs would've ignited whatever fucking fire inside of her that'd started to blaze out of control earlier tonight, and she'd worked hard to contain this inferno.

"What you can do, though, is turn your pretty little ass back around, and go get some rest in the dorm. It's been a long night."

She didn't refute, she didn't try to get out of it because she didn't want to. Isla couldn't bear the thought of waltzing past her father, talking to him about her tiny outburst, and resuming as normal.

Because she couldn't do that. Not tonight, anyway.

"Tig?"

"Uh huh." He responded, his eyes glued to the back of Juice's cut as he slammed yet another shot back.

Probably wondering what the fuck had gone down tonight.

"Can you stay with me?" Her retort forced his focus to land on her, and the defenselessness--sheer exposure--in her attitude.

It wasn't the simple fact of wanting to be alone.

She couldn't be alone. Not anymore.

Ringed fingers squeezed her hand reassuringly, guiding her into the back room, holding her close. Because that's what she really, truly wanted.

"'Course I can. Anything for you, Isla."

[kawaiijellymonster]

So I’ve got a note in my notes app called “Fanfic lines that should be in a hall of fame” and it’s gotten pretty long so I figure I’ll toss it on here so yall can enjoy it, most of them are: mha, zukka, miraculous ladybug, harry potter, and I think one is from a comment on a hannibal amv, But here you go:

Stain sold papers because he just had an aura about him that drew people in, like people who slow down to look at car crashes.

“The Rumor Come Out: Does Todoroki Shoto is Gay?”

Izuku spent the next week going to his normal martial arts classes, studying, and drinking gallons of coffee. Not healthy but he could deal with it. His body was never meant to be permanent.

So no one was watching when Mei placed her forehead against his, breath fanning across his face as she spoke. "Wake up Loki… the world needs you."

“No probs ‘lil listener!” Hizashi said, striking a dramatic pose. “I’ll be your DJ all through the night, bringin’ you such rockin’ hits as safety, security and sweet dreams!”

“This is stupid! Screw the waiting and screw these stupid butterflies. They're not paying rent, the little shits--”

Experimenting with unstable genetic mutant abominations is more of an art than a science, really."

Several looks pass across both their faces. “No flying for a month,” Sirius declares. That sucks, actually. But he’s also a hundred percent certain he can get them to cave on that in two weeks tops. “Okay. Is that for the breaking into the Ministry, destroying the Department of Mysteries, making a bargain with Voldemort, or bringing all my friends with me?” “It’s for recklessly endangering your own life again,” Remus says, “and while the punishment very much doesn’t fit the crime, we’re a bit at a loss for what else to do.” “It wasn’t reckless!” he protests. “We had a plan and everything, and we even brought an adult! An adult Order member! Also what else were we supposed to do, let Snape die?” Sirius takes a deep breath, but Remus steps on his foot before he can put it in his mouth. “Which is why you’re only getting flying privileges taken away and not thrown in a cell in Azkaban for our sanity and your safety.” As if any cell could hold him. “I accept your terms.”

“Who’s Theophania?” Sirius asks. Harry hesitates. Perhaps bringing her up was his smartest decision, strategically speaking. “If I tell you you’re not allowed to throw me in Azkaban. Or ground me.” “This isn’t a negotiation,” Sirius repeats. If Blaise has taught him anything, it’s that everything is a negotiation. “She’s a friend.” “And?” Sirius repeats. Remus suddenly grabs onto Sirius’s shoulder, “Wait. Petrifying - during your second year - is Theophania - she’s not the basilisk.” “No, they killed it,” Sirius says automatically. Harry remains silent. “Harry!” He rubs his nose. “It turns out I’m not that good at killing things. Unkilling things, however? My specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Nanaia says, “you don’t know. What do you do when you don’t know something?” “Try something you do know and hope it doesn’t make everything worse?” For some reason, Horace looks sad at that answer, and Dumbledore shifts from one foot to the other. “No,” she says, “you ask for help.” Oh.

“It’ll piss off your son,” he answers bluntly. “Fuck that kid,” Riddle Sr. says

“You played me!” “Like a cheap kazoo”

Batman sighed, before speaking in a voice that was so unlike his usual growl that most of the other League members almost fell out of their chairs. Diana and Clark seemed to be used to it. “Damian,” he started. His voice was still deep, but a regular-deep, instead of I-just-swallowed-six-buckets-of-gravel deep.

“She loved James too,” she assures, and the confidence she says that with allows him to breathe, like someone has let go of his lungs. “It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. She loved your father with the type of love that’s – that was like a shooting star, burning and bright and touching everyone around them. Her love for Severus was different, and in the end it wasn’t the type of love either of them could handle.”

You’re better at it now then many people are after leaving a full apprenticeship, and you’ve only had a year of lessons a couple of times a week instead of years of intensive study. Do you know why that is?” “Luck?” he offers weakly. For some reason, he doesn’t like the direction this is going in. “No,” she says. “To be good at healing, the way you are, the way I am, you need a certain combination of things. Intelligence, power, control, but more than that. Stubbornness, a tricky balance of flexibility and inflexibility, and a constant, brutal assessment over your own skills. And something else.” “A propensity towards poor life choices?” he suggests. Poppy shakes her head, not taking the bait. “No. You have to care. You have to care about everyone, even people you dislike, and you have to care so much that if feels like it’s killing you, you have to care and that care has to hurt, until the only thing that hurts worse than caring is not caring. To be good at this, you have to let it hurt you.”

“You two shouldn’t have bothered dressing formally for Albus, he’s a bitch.” Harry doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s loving it.  

“It was on the syllabus,” Zuko whispered conspiratorially to his mother. Sokka gasped. “You know I don’t read those!” “This is your own fault then.” “I like to be surprised. The procrastination keeps me humble.”

sometimes you remind me of the stars youre gorgeous and happy and can always brighten me on the darkest days and even when youre dampened you can guide me home

“imagine you are the only person who loves to play chess more than anything but nobody else in the world has ever heard about chess. and then you see a person holding a chessboard. it’s like your whole world was reborn”

"I wanted to be a stripper in middle school," Izuku said. Yup, that's a good cover.

What you’re asking for isn’t fair or right. You can’t ask a person for more than they’re willing to give

In Mei’s words, “You have about five minutes of ‘fuck that one thing in particular.’ Make them count.”

“Mei, let me introduce your new best friend. This is Momo. She has a Quirk that lets her make anything as long as she knows its composition inside and out. All you have to do is buy her dinner,“ Izuku said,

The cameras were looped. The bots were hacked. It was a good day to be a villain.

“None. The alarm never left the building.” “Really? Why is that?” “Mei finished first and decided to do you a favor. However, you've got the fire alarm just starting to go off and that's on a different circuit. Take a fast way down.” “Understood,” Hitoshi drawled. A moment later he was looking back at the crew. “Ladies and Frenchman. We take the express.”

Quinn is talking like that actually answers his question when it really, really doesn’t. “If you don’t start making sense, I’ll cry.”

“You’re one of my best students,” ze says. “You should understand the importance of timing. Speaking of, you’re late for your next class.”

Fuck, he totally is. “Thank you for that very confusing answer. I’ll think of you while crying myself to sleep.”

He’d wondered if that was what bravery was, to be quiet even when you were hurting so much you wanted to scream.

maybe bravery was also running screaming at the thing that nearly killed you, to keep it from killing someone else.

“Apologies are not difficult. Good apologies revolve around three basic points. One, I acknowledge what I did was wrong. Two, I regret that you were harmed. Three, this is how I plan to make sure it does not happen again. That’s all. Apologies are easy.” Then she’d glanced at them all again, evaluating. “And if you become very, very good at your job... they will be the absolute hardest thing you ever do.”

“Even though we’re a bunch of migraine-inducing hellions who are smart enough to know when something is a bad idea and stupid enough to still do it?”

“You’re like the nice china that Al only brings out for Christmas. Except Bruce just realised that I stole it, and chipped it. Maybe it’s time I give it back before I shatter all the pieces.”

she won’t co-parent my perfectly reasonable and well-behaved children.” Clark snorts. “Damian’s trying to stab Tim, right now.”

"Oh, my knight in shining armour. What would I do without you?" the teen droned, placing a dramatic hand on her head. 

"I think you mean 'knight in shining leather', M'Lady. And without me, you would be left alone in this kingdom of lies.”

"It's a kingdom, alright. It'll topple sooner or later." "That's the spirit!" Adrien laughed.

Here’s something that a harbinger of tragedy would never find the courage to admit: there are moments in between the bitter self-hatred and the visceral, tangible consequences of your sins in which you almost think you’re worthy of forgiveness; of second chances; of a life beyond your greatest regrets. It’s a unique brand of pain,

“Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

“You can’t wait around for him to be sorry,” Izuku says. He’s quiet now. This isn’t something that’s meant to be shouted. “Maybe he’ll never be sorry. Maybe he doesn’t know he did anything wrong, or he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Cautiously he takes a step forward. “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.”

Midoriya may be strong as hell, but that just means looking out for him has to be a team effort.

How would his new adoring fans react if they knew he raised a villain? He's no All-Might. His pillar's made of toothpicks, and it's not gonna take much to crack it.”

Tensei approaches Rei, “Okay, this plan is childish, unprofessional, and a discourtesy to this school's reputation. That being said, when do we nail the little twat?

Hinata is dead. Deceased. Passed away, laid to rest with a headstone that reads Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Killed By A Wink And A Blown Kiss.

It’s dangerous to be a bad father when you have life insurance

[wanderingmirror]

Suffer Together

It had not been too long ago that James had claimed to not be the only Hydra super Soldier. When he told the others that there was a second one, they looked at him in disbelief. He mentioned that while he was a ghost story, the other was a myth. The other was not the same as James, born with the ability to phase through things at will. He was called the Specter, and he was stuck asleep inside an old Hydra facility down in the Amazon Forest. 

When the others left to go there and retrieve the Specter, they were not prepared for what they saw. A cryotube much like the one James had been in not so long ago. Inside rested a male with short, messy brown hair, tanned skin, and what James claimed to be the most beautiful emerald green eyes. They thawed him out and took him back to the tower. James was the first thing the new soldier woke up to, and he hugged the other brunette tightly. 

“I kept my promise, Spec! You are safe now!” James said to the very confused male. “Winter? Why am I awake? Where are we?” Spec, the newly awakened soldier, asked with a hoarse voice. James did not even flinch when he called him Winter. He just hugged Spec all the tighter, and laughed breathily. “We are in Stark Tower. You are awake because I finally managed to keep my promise. You are safe and out of their hands now.” James said when he let go to look at Spec. The other brunette just stared at the medical room he woke up in.

_________________________________________________________________

A few months later.

Spec ended up remembering that his name had been Lucan White. An old Russian pilot from World War 1 who was declared KIA after his plane was lost during a routine scouting mission turned air battle. James and Lucan became inseparable after Lucan started to remember what was going on. Though Lucan was a little more hesitant around the others due to his literal Russian decent. James would always defend him when Steve would try to argue with him. But then one day, the blonde said something he should not have. And Lucan became eerily still and his eyes grew distant.

“Steve, what the Hell is your problem?!” James shouted, when Lucan stood and walked away from the dinner table, a quiet ‘thanks for the food’ to Tony as he did so. Tony gave him access to the shooting range so he could cool off. “I’m sorry, Bucky. But he’s a real Russian soldier! He is responsible for thousands of deaths!” Steve cried and James glared. “So am I, Rogers. Or did you forget that I was a soldier, too?” And that shut the Captain up quickly as James thanked Tony for the food and left. Tony nodding to both soldiers as they passed him and getting them access to the shooting range. 

In a firing range made for Lucan and James, Lucan has reloaded and gone through clips like lightning while trying to cool off. James comes in with some vodka from a mug he had brought with him. “Hey.” He said softly, not expecting to get a response. Lucan, pissed off and still feeling hurt, grunted, “Yesli vy sobirayetes' smeyat'sya nado mnoy, ne nado. YA ne khochu etogo slyshat'.”

(If you’re going to ridicule me, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.)

He started shooting at the targets again. “Now why would I ridicule you?” James asked softly, standing almost behind him.  Lucan rolls his own eyes but doesn’t take his eyes off the nearly destroyed target. “О, я не знаю, тот факт, что мистер Патриотизм встал и сказал это. Удивлен, что ты не веешь на его сторону. В конце концов, я чудовище.” He says with self-deprecation deep in his Russian tone. 

(Oh, I don't know, the fact that he stood up and said that. I’m surprised you aren’t taking his side. I’m the monster after all.)

James looked at him sadly. “One that did bad acts while being controlled cannot be considered a monster, for they did not have control over what they did.” They heard Jarvis say. “The ones that were in control are the only ones able to take blame, you are not a monster.” James agreed with the AI, holding up the vodka. Lucan takes it gladly but carefully, too worried about his enhanced strength. he takes a gulp and lets it burn his throat a bit. “Sure, if you say so. Doesn’t change that it was my hands doing the killing.” Lucan says, switching back to English. “But your hands were not in your control, therefore you can't take the blame.” Jarvis said softly, and Lucan growled.

Lucan shatters the mug in his hand. “My control or not it doesn’t change the fact it was my hands doing the killing!” he shouts with pain. “100 fucking years and so many damn people by my fucking hand! Doesn’t matter if I was in control of myself or not! I remember all of them! Just like you do, Winter!” The male shouted with heart ache. James gently grabbed one of Lucan’s hands. “Yes, you remember, but you cannot blame yourself for them. Instead of blaming yourself, honor the ones that deserve to be honored, and forget the ones that don't.” James calmly and softly said while rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.

Lucan looked at him with so much agony and pain it breaks James’ heart into pieces. Lucan’s eyes filling with tears he wants to shed but won’t because of decades of torment. James gives him an understanding look, and takes the gun out of his other hand and hugging him tightly to him. “Come on, you are allowed to cry. I won’t hurt you if you let it out.” James said softly. Lucan wrapped his arms around him, clinging to him, and sobbed into his shoulder. His shoulders shaking as he lets nearly one-hundred years of pain, sorrow, fear, and agony out.

James holds him against him, petting his hair while he cried, doing his best to soothe him. After what felt like hours, Lucan slowly calmed down. His eyes rimmed red and sore, face flushed from crying. “Better now?” James asked softly,  smiling sadly at him. Lucan nodded and pulled away. He looked at the remains of the vodka and mug. He wipes the rest of the tears from his eyes and looks to his left. “YA tak ustala, Yasha. Tak chertovski ustali.” He admitted softly.

 (I’m so tired, James. So damn tired.)

“Would you like to go rest?” James asked, but he had a feeling he knew the answer to that. James flinched when Lucan laughed hollowly. “If I rest the way I want to, I’d never wake back up.” He said while looking back to James. The other brunette gave him a sympathetic look. “Don’t rest that way, please? There's people that still care about you.” Lucan closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. Then he turned to look at him. he then sighed deeply and fully. 

“Sometimes, I don’t know if this is reality or just a figment of my fractured memories. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if I’m actually free, or if this is some sick joke they’re playing on me to get my guard down. To show weakness. Hell, I sometimes wonder if they left me in the cryotube and forgot about me, and this is all just a dream I’ve made in my head to keep my sanity for just a little while longer.” Lucan rested his head onto James’ shoulder. “Some days I don’t know if I’m the Specter or Lucan. Even if the triggers are gone and my memories are returning slowly.” He continued into the warmth of his skin. James rubbed his own shoulder comfortingly.

“I promise, I, and everyone around you, are real. And right now, you're free, and we have the power to free you in the event they are used the words again.” James reassured him. Lucan’s lips twitched in a smile at him. “Yeah, I know. But some days I forget and all I remember is the pain. All I remember is the bone deep cold of ice and the fire of electricity going through my skull. All I hear are the words that make me go numb and docile as a lamb. I can’t just walk off that many years of torment. And the memories and nightmares don’t just fade when it all stops, when the things finally end. I don’t know if I’ll ever heal. But, I can try my damnedest to.” He smiled a bit more with hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, you can.” And James smiled back before adding, “Do the best you can.” Lucan nodded and hugged him. Glad that someone isn’t forcing him to be someone else he does not remember. James hugged him back, rubbing his back soothingly.

[rogershasmyass]

dancing on my own

a/n: hello, i finally had guts to post my first fic after i watched the endgame ((which is weeks ago)) please bear with me, it'a my first fic and yeah, please tell me what you think because it would really help me. I really wanted to write for a very long time,, so here it is! i also wanted to improve my writing so please send me some request ♡ thank you!!!!!

ps: i'm so sorry it looks so crowded i don't know what's with tumblr i can't put spaces :((( i promise i'll edit it on a desktop :-(

pairings: steve rogers x reader

warnings: endgame spoilers???? language, lil angst, lil fluff

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"He can take his time and stay there as long as he likes, but for us, it'll only take 5 seconds." Bruce said.

We nodded. Steve, on the platform went down to hug Bucky goodbye and then to me.

"Come back in whole pieces okay?" I smiled while caressing his face. Memorizing every part of it, as if I will not see him again. I know I will. I just, feel like I will never get to hold him like this.

"I will. I love you." He said lovingly, although there's something in his eyes that I can't...ponder upon.

"I love you more. Come back alright?" I asked one more time as he went to the platform. He didn't looked back at us.

Banner started counting backwards signalling his return.

There's something I feel in my stomach, I feel something in my throat and tears are starting to dwell up. My breathing are getting uneven.

"y/n..." Bucky held my arm when I started panicking.

"He'll be back, right?" I asked Bucky. I know he knows something too.

"I lost him on the map! I can't see him!" Banner starts to push buttons frantically. Sam and Bucky were starting to lose their calm, too. Trying to figure out what went wrong.

"Bruce, I'll go find him." I said. All of them were shocked and looking at me like I'm crazy. I just needed to see him one last time.

"y/n...i'll go with you." Bucky said. I wanted to say that I'll go alone but I feel like I'm losing time.

"Take care of each other. You know how to use that, y/n, right?" Bruce assuring me.

"Yes." Determined, I went to where Steve was last seen.

xxxxx

After blasting into an unfamiliar place, I looked at Bucky, trying to find a familiar face, but he's very fascinated that he was brought back to a place he knew of dearly.

"Hey, Bucky. You know where Steve probally has gone to?" I asked him

"Oh, doll. Of course you know where he went to." Bucky trying to make the situation lighter.

"Oh God. Of course I know. I just can't say her name, it feels like swallowing poison. So, do you know where she lives?"

"I do."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go now!" I told him and basically pulled him in some direction. He laughed.

I actually don't know what to do if I found him. Will I ask him to come back to me? To the present where we started something special. Or I thought so. What will I do if I see Peggy in flesh? What exactly am I doing here?

"Hey doll?" Bucky interrupted my thinking.

"Hey, buck. Are we there yet?" I asked him. We were on a cab to Peggy's house.

"No not yet. Penny for your thoughts?" He asked me.

"Nothing...I'm just very amazed at how beautiful and simple it is back then." I lied, I wasn't even paying attention to where were going.

"What are you planning to do? Once you see him?" Bucky asked me.

"I...I don't know. I feel like being selfish if I ask him to come back. I actually don't know what we're doing here. It's getting dark, Buck. I think...I think we should just go back. In fact, it's Peggy we're talking about here. She...she was his first love and what am I to compare to her? Let's go back, Bucky. I just can't bear to see it, whatever's I'm going to see." I said almost out of breath.

Bucky looked at me with sad eyes. "Too late, doll. We're already here." I glanced outside and saw a decent and big old house, well probably not old, since we went back, it probably was a kind of house that's in in these time. We went out of the cab and stood outside.

"Bucky let's go back. I think it's someones birthday or Steve's welcome party or.. I...let's just go back." I begged him and grabbed his arm. I noticed there's something in the backyard, it's full of people and contained a lot of decorations.

"Wait do you hear that song, y/n?"

A slow song played by a band was playing, and who would forget this song? It's my captain's favorite.

I wandered on his room in the Avenger's headquarters after one of Tony's extravagant party. It's been 7 months since we officially started dating. Although, we have been testing the waters for almost 5 years now since I joined the team.

"Hey, cap." I asked him while just cuddling on the bed, almost sleepy. "What's your favorite song?"

"It's been a long, long time." He answered while kissing the top of my head.

"I know it's been a long time, love." I joked.

"Silly, it's the title. You hear it all the time" He laughed at my silly joke.

"I don't think I get to finish the song. You know, I fall asleep on your choice of songs." I pouted and he kissed me. "I wanna listen to it!" I sat on the bed, wanting to listen to it enthusiastically. "Come on, love. Play it for me!" I pointed at his turntable and gave him my puppy eyes I know he can't resist.

"Promise me, you won't fall asleep?" 

"I won't! I promise!"

"What my baby wants, my baby gets." He walked over to the turntable and placed the CD on. The slow song started to play.

"You wanna dance, cap?" I asked him, but immediately regretted it. I remembered Peggy and their promise to dance with each other. And you know, their history.

"Do you wanna dance?" He asked me.

"I do. But only if you're ready." I smiled at him reassuringly that it's fine by me. I went over to him and hugged him. We stayed on that position for a while when he asked me, "Have you danced before, y/n?"

"Like a slow dance? I haven't."

"Why?"

"Because you aren't ready yet."

"I'll dance with you when I completely let go of my past."

"I'll wait for it even if it takes forever."

He chuckled. "Alright. Let's get you to bed, you're getting sleepy. I love you, you sleepyhead."

"I love you more."

I looked over to the backyard, closer to get a better look. They have guests, who are dressed formally. The yard was decorated by balloons, flowers, there's a large cake and a band playing my cap's favorite song. I went to look at the other side and my whole world shattered before me. My eyes were producing tears uncontrollably and my knees got weak literally, Bucky caught me just in time.

Steve, the love of my life, got his most awaited dance. After 70 long years. With the woman he truly loved.

"Rogers got his fucking dance, Bucky. It's so...unfair." I was sobbing into his arms while holding my mouth, afraid that if my voice gets too loud, people might see us.

"Hey, y/n... calm down a little bit, you're breathing's not normal anymore." Bucky warned me. I have asthma but that's not the problem now.

"Bucky.....they..got..mar..married. Does he even plan on telling us? H...he should have atleast told us? I would have understand because I kind of expected this to happen ever since that time machine idea was brought up. It should have hurted less if he just told us, but instead he..made us worried by not being in his timestamp, and now...we're seeing him...having the time of his life, dancing and getting married, for fucks sake!!!!! while we're fucking worried of his whereabouts?????? He could have just fucking told me!!!!!"

I wept on the grass leaning on the yard with Bucky. As if my whining will bring Steve back to us. We stayed there for 5 more songs, staring into the grass in front of us, hearing the people's chattering and the celebrations for the newly weds. We once heard the people clinking their glasses with their forks, signalling them to kiss. Of course, I burst into tears again.

"Let's go back, y/n" Bucky stood up and offered his arm to me.

"Let's go." I wiped my tears and pressed on the device that will let us back home. I didn't even managed to look back to the party. I don't think I can handle it.

x

"Have you found him? Where's Steve?" Bruce asked, Sam waiting for answers. Bucky smiled sadly.

"Having the time of his life." I told them and smiled bitterly. "He got his dance, Sam...Steve got his dance..and his girl. He..looked so happy." I felt like crying again, but no tears came. Probably spent it all way back there.

"y/n..." they called out to me, feeling sorry.

"I'll be in my room. I'll be fine. I just wanted to rest." I assured them.

I laid on my bed for God knows how long. I looked on the other side where Steve's smell still lingers. Not wanting to cry again, I stoop up and put on the CD in the turntable and played his favorite song.

I closed my eyes and body swayed a little, imagining he's dancing with me. 

"You know what...? You're so unfair, Rogers. You got your dance and I got nothing. Well, as they say, promises are meant to be broken. But you are not one to break promises. You even went back in time to have your dance with Peggy, while a band plays." I tried to smile. "But I am so happy for you, my love. I truly am..." 

Maybe in an alternate universe, it's you and I.

Maybe in an alternate universe it's just you and me, no past haunting you, no obligations to the world, no fallen family. No lost time. Just us, living together happily.

A tear finally fell from my cheeks and the music stopped. I wiped it away, then proceeded to remove the CD from the turntable.

"Oh fucking hell, I lost my sanity. First I'm dancing alone and talking to myself. Fuck you, Rogers. The things you do to me." I chuckled to myself 

"Language."

You stopped and turned to look where you heard the voice. Your man, the love of your life, your captain, was standing by your door.

[theonewiththefanfics]

The Pain Of Love (one-shot)

Synopsys: Bucky is a reckless show off when it comes to missions, but when thing go too far, it might lead the Reader and him either broken or closer than ever.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, Bucky feelin down :(

Word count: 2375

   In the world of the twenty-first century, Bucky Barnes was known as a lot of things. He was the ruthless Winter Soldier, Hydra’s puppet and their right fist. He was the broken man out of his time with a mind in shambles as he barely held onto sanity. He was the heroic sergeant who gave his life away protecting the country he loved most. He was also Captain America’s best friend from the beginning until the end of the line. But to Y/N Y/L/N he was the insufferable, arrogant always smug and smirking boyfriend.    Right now the pair was on a jet flying back to New York while Y/N was crouched on her knees between Bucky’s legs as she stitched up a large gash on his side. He poked her cheek, grabbing the girl’s attention.    “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”    She could only huff in frustration and had to remind herself not to tug on the string too harshly.    “I’m far from angry, James.”    “Oh,” he let out a small laugh, “my real name. I must be in trouble.”    The cold look he got from Y/N was unnerving. Usually, she went along with his teasing, sometimes even rendering the man speechless with her quick wit, but this was not the case. It made his stomach churn and the smile falter.    “Angry is when I get when Sam wakes me up at four AM to go for a run. Angry is how I feel when Natasha takes off on a mission and doesn’t give me a note she won’t be there for our obligatory movie night. Angry is how I become when you just brutally rip my underwear off and don’t think twice that it’s fucking expensive. But right now I’m furious.”

   Y/N didn’t elaborate further, wanting to torture the man as much as possible. She pulled the little knot together and snipped off the medical thread. Finally, she stood up and went to the pilot’s seat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm down her still racing heart. And even though she wanted nothing more than to cry hysterically the Avenger kept her tears at bay. Bucky would immediately wrap his arms around her body, comforting his girl and her composure would crumble to pieces, but it was his fault Y/N was in such a predicament.    Reckless, he’d been reckless and because of that, it had almost cost him his life. He’d gotten too cocky, said he could handle everything on his own when a hundred agents swarmed around the ex-Winter Soldier and this time they weren’t there to take him back alive. It was kill or be killed. And that idiot had refused to call for backup. It was only when Y/N had gotten out of the base had she seen the true state of the mission.    With his side bleeding, Bucky was still fighting off at least two dozen agents, but the paleness of his face told the girl he was just about to lose. Too much blood had already stained the bright green grass, turning the ground a muddled brown.    Precise headshots were delivered to the Hydra goons and Bucky turned to her with a relieved smile before collapsing. Y/N had never felt such fear, such all-consuming despair when using all of her strength the woman hauled her boyfriend's body up, his arm around her shoulder and pulled the barely conscious man towards the jet. His super soldier serum had enhanced the healing rate, but it was still alarming how bad the wound was.    “Doll?” Bucky had pulled on a clean shirt, having rid himself of the dirty clothes, contrary to how Y/N looked, still covered in grime. He’d never seen his girl so enraged, never with him. “Look I’m sorry, but I had it covered. Besides, I wasn’t that worried. I know you always have my back, just as I have yours.”    Her grip on the handles tightened, so much it turned her knuckles not white, but almost completely translucent to the point Bucky feared either the metal underneath her palms would break or bones would poke out of the skin.    But she didn’t reply, instead, the woman kept her gaze fixated onto the orange sky, the sun slowly disappearing down beneath the horizon, little stars already gleaming through, telling them it was going to be a clear night. Y/N didn’t answer to any soft plea, nor did she even grace him with a look. Bucky was becoming desperate to hear at least one word from her, but all he got was the girl's rigid form staring straight out and not seeing anything really.    For three hours they flew in an agonising silence before landing in the tower. Y/N swiftly unbuckled the belt and stood up, harshly wrenching her hand away when Bucky tried to grab her wrist.    “Doll, talk to me, this is ridiculous.”    But she didn’t, only quickened her pace walking towards the laundry room.    “Y/N, stop acting like a child. It was just a scrape. I’m fine! It’s already healed!”    “Just because your arm is indestructible, doesn’t mean you are! Hell, not even that is true when Tony has to fix bugs in it every other week,” Y/N sighed, pinching her nose before looking up at Bucky. “I’m sleeping in my room tonight. And probably for the rest of the week.”    “Come on, doll, don’t be like-“    “Like what, Bucky? Worried? Stressed out of my mind? Completely and utterly petrified when I see the man I’m in love with, bleeding out on a field and he has the nerve to call me adorable while I’m trying to keep his insides from spilling onto the floor?” it was a loud yell, but slowly her voice trailed off, cracking with the last words. “Do I mean that little to you? Does our relationship mean nothing? Did you even think about how I would feel? What losing you would do to me?”    The pain in Y/N’s voice shattered Bucky’s heart. He reached out to her, but she just shook her head walking down the hallway towards her own private quarters. That’s when the waterworks started. With her back pressed against the white door, she slid down onto the ground and just cried, didn’t even bother to muffle the sounds with her palm.    On her own, she stripped of the tactical uniform, noting how most of her left side was covered by a giant purplish bruise, that seemed to only darken with every passing second. Y/N dragged her body, still raked by sobs to the shower and stepped inside. Usually, she and Bucky would stand under the warm stream and just hold one another, massaging out the knots that had appeared in their back and the tight muscles before releasing stress in a different much pleasurable way, with his lips on her neck and her eyes closed, soft moan slipping from her lips as nails dragged across his perfectly sculpted form. But that night she was alone.    Alone she went to bed, alone she cried in her pillows and alone she was dragged under by sleep when two doors down Bucky was the same, only his pain was multiplied by the horrific thought she would never return by his side.

***

   “Tony, I need a vacation,” Y/N said entering the kitchen. She felt Bucky’s eyes look up and noted the caution in his words as he spoke.    “We’re we going, doll?” a small hopeful smile pulled at the corners of his lips.    She had to sigh before facing the man. The girl had given him the silent treatment for the past week, but even after seven days apart, after seven days of not sleeping beside him, without his touch and smell, the vivid image of his bleeding body didn’t leave her.    “I said ‘I’ need a vacation. Alone.”    Bucky hung his head, eyes watering at her proclamation, but he wasn’t going to let on how much it really hurt. He listened in on Y/N’s and Tony’s quiet conversation, and when they were done, he followed the woman down back to her room.    “Y/N, please. What can I do to make it better?”    “Nothing, Bucky. There’s nothing you can do right now to change how I feel.” She continued walking away before his next question made her stop dead in the tracks.    “Are you breaking up with me?” His voice was so desperate, so full of sorrow and pain her own heart clenched to the point it felt like it would stop beating.    “Honestly, Bucky? I don’t know. On one hand, there is nothing more I want to do than wrap my arms around you and kiss you breathless… but on the other… it’s like what we have means jack shit. The way you put yourself in danger without a disregard for me or your safety is worse than a slap to my face. I just need to get away from you, from the compound, from everything before I say or do something I’ll regret.”    It was the hardest thing Y/N had done, just turning away once more from Bucky, but she knew that her resolve was crumbling. Her body ached for his touch and her mind screamed to let him hold her. There was nothing she wanted more than to jump in his arm, wrap her legs around his waist and let him carry her to his room and spend the rest of the day ravishing one another. Yet anytime she closed her lids there was Bucky slowly bleeding out on the ground.    Her heels echoed in the empty corridor as she left him standing alone.

***    As a kid, Y/N had always wanted to visit the Maldives. To swim in the cerulean water and bathe under the sun, go snorkelling and simply explore the mysteries of the ocean. But now, as the warm evening winds gently made her hair flutter through the air, the peace she thought she would find was overshadowed by the incredible heartache.    Two days she had spent in paradise, yet without Bucky, the beauty of the place was lost to her. Until he did arrive. Y/N’s head turned to the side, towards the invading sound of sand rustling underneath someone’s boots.    “Was wondering when you’d show up,” she mumbled quietly as he sat down next to her. He kept a little bit of a distance, even though he physically hurt all over without her touch.    “You expected me to come?”    The girl snorted, looking back to the lapping waves. “You were never one to follow orders.”    They remained silent, just watching as the sun slowly disappeared behind the ocean before he couldn’t take the tension anymore and spoke up.    “I’m sorry I hurt you. That I didn’t call for backup when you said for me to do so.”    Y/N pressed her cheek against her curled up knees and hugged her body, desperately wishing it was Bucky’s warm hold around her.    “I’m not mad that you didn’t call for help even in such a dire situation. I’m hurt that you think you mean so little to me. That seeing you in the littlest amount of pain doesn’t devastate me, that it doesn’t rip my heart out and makes me wish I could bear it for you.”    Bucky let tears slip down his cheeks at Y/N’s words, at her sincerity and how much she truly loved him. He took a deep breath before he gathered courage and let every thought finally out in the open.    “I’ve never thought I was worth much. Not after what I- what the Winter Soldier did… I never thought I would get redemption or even the chance at a normal life, but then you walked in it. With those big Y/E/C eyes and that gorgeous gorgeous smile. Right when we met, you came straight towards me and hugged the living daylights out. I… I had never felt so warm and safe in my life. And I knew I'd never be good enough for you. Darling, you deserve someone so much better... Someone without such a heavy baggage... I feel like I need to prove myself. To you, to the world. That I’m worthy, that I have changed and can do good. I just want you to be proud when standing next to me.” His head fell down, face buried in calloused palms, as violent sobs shook his body.    “Buck,” Y/N whispered grasping onto his wrist and went to straddle his lap. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to Steve, not to the world. You’re the strongest man I know with the biggest and kindest heart. Yes, you drive me nuts like no one else, but I love you. I love you and your sass, every ounce of this muscle,” she said squeezing his bicep, “that mind of yours, that you keep referring to as broken,” gentle fingers carded through the long locks. “I don’t need you to act like a fool so you can prove you’re a hero. Everyone can see it just because you’re moving on, making friends… falling in love,” Y/N uttered the last three words so quietly the waves by their feet carried them away. “You are a hero just because you broke out from Hydra’s control. You’re not their puppet anymore. You’re a free man. And you’re my reckless, stupid, infuriating boyfriend I can’t imagine my life without. I am proud of you. So so proud. About every single thing you’ve accomplished.”    Her touch set Bucky’s body ablaze, but the soothing caress of her palm, as it cupped his cheek and wiped away a stream of tears enveloped him like a warm hug.    “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. And unfortunately, I’ll keep on loving even when I want nothing more than to strangle you, because my life would be so much duller, so much… less… than it is when you’re by my side.”    A choked back laugh passed the man’s lips and for the first time in more than a week, the pain in his heart evaporated leaving only remnants of pure love matching that of Y/N’s. "I don't deserve you, doll.'' "You deserve me and so much more," she said before kissing Bucky and remedying all the broken pieces.    

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @gallifreyansass

A/N: just wanted to write some sweet fluffy angsty Bucky :)

P.S. please tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, drop a message ;)

[chimtaesty]

Revenge pt2

pairing: BTS (ot7) x Reader

warnings: none

plot: Your pack was killed and an alpha can't remain alone so you build up a new one. This time being sure to take down your enemies / 1,5k words

A/N: Hi! I posted the 3rd part of desperate without hashtags but i fixed it now it’s kinda flopping. Whatever, here is the second part of my werewolf series.

masterlist | part1 part2

A loud thud made you jump up from your spot at the window. The sun sat high and you were quite warm, it had to be around lunch.

A muffled scream caught your attention again and you put on a hoodie as well as tied your hair up into a ponytail and went downstairs.

You unlocked the living room door and as you stepped into the room the screaming stopped in an instant. You were met with seven very confused and angry men but the last thing you would've been in this situation was being scared. Several pieces of furniture were splattered broken on the floor and some of them were switching their clothing as you walked in.

“Hey, You! What the fuck is this? Where the fuck are we?” the tallest of them countered at first and you just simply walked past him into your kitchen to get yourself a coffee first. You understood the anger he was feeling but you didn't care enough to give him a reaction.

“I am talking to you fuck face” he yelled after you following along. You simply showed him to be a little more silent with two fingers and he looked at you in complete disbelief. “W-What, silent? I want answers you idiot” he screamed and finally went to push you but you didn't move an inch. You simply grabbed his arm and pushed him back sending him flying into living room. You cringed slightly, your weren't really friend of physical violence  “Oh my god. What are you?” another one with grayish blonde hair asked shocked. Taking a step back to his friend who crashed into a shelf.

“Does someone want coffee?” you called out. You were drowsy and you didn't like loud noises in the morning so you needed a coffee to calm down your nerves. All of them gave you looks of cynicism. Kind of questioning your sanity.

“Me” one of the shorter ones of them called out. You chuckled and grabbed a second mug. “Yoongi!” one of them scolded him “If I am dying today I at least want some coffee, chill” Yoongi ignored him and walked over to you as you passed him the mug. You liked his attitude.

“Okay, I think you deserve answers and I promise you're not dying today” you finally spoke as you sat down on your couch holding the mug in your lap not daring room place the mug on the table since it looked slightly cracked.

“Hell we do! What the hell is going on?” The tallest one asked holding his arm “It shouldn't hurt anymore, are you okay?” you directed at the thrown one. He looked confused and nodded his head “It doesn't” he whispered and frowned his eyebrows. Inside you threw a party, the changing process worked.

“How the hell doesn't it hurt anymore? You flew into the table” a shorter one asked shaking his head “Great, so the transformation worked” you whispered to yourself. “Which goddamn transformation? What the freaking fuck is going on?” he shouted at you again.

“Right, the truth is. I don't want to kill you neither do I want to torture you all in any way. If you're not happy with what I gifted you with then you're allowed to leave and never come back” They were confused, terribly confused “You're werewolves and destined to be my new pack” you simply answered. Straight away, that's the simplest and less painful way right?

“You're insane lady, I don't know what the hell is wrong with yo-”Let me show you” you broke through his rage “The humans are destined to not believe unless they see it with their own two eyes. Let me make you believe” you countered. He opened his mouth but closed it right away. “You're not in your right mind” he whispered and you gave him a slight smile. You understood their furry.

You pulled your hoodie off and stood there in your underwear “S-SHE’S STRIPPING! Jungkook you're underage!” you shook your head “I don't actually want my hoodie to be ripped” you answered “Good lord help us”

joon

I breathed in and watched this insane woman stripping in front of us. What the hell was she doing? Suddenly her human form disappeared and the patches of skin got filled up with fur. Her face disappeared and a wolf face took its place. The sound of bones shattering and moving was to throw up. But suddenly she was gone and a big wolf stood where the woman once stood.

you

You stood still on your four paws shaking your fur lightly. All of your senses were heightened and the visuals were brighter. You looked them in the face, some were shocked and some almost fell over. “Do you believe me now?” you spoke to them through telepathy. All werewolves are gifted with this power since we aren't able to talk in our wolf form. You took a step in their direction but they backed off and you sat down “I won't hurt you” you lowered your head to show them trust. A thing a active alpha wouldn't do but you were almost forced to. You didn't want them forced into this. These boys should have a saying in happenings as big a these.

As you thought about their choices and you finally starting a pack a hand ripped you out of your thoughts. It traces a light pet through your fur. “Jimin” it sounded like a light warning even more like a shocked question. “This is real guys, she is indeed a werewolf. Don't think to deny” you were happy. You grasped this thin string of hope again and smiled to yourself. You pushed your head into his hand wanting to feel this little bit of security and warmth for just a moment longer.

“Thank you, Jimin” if you were honest you did like them. Even if you didn't know them you kind of liked their presence, even if they left you again you were thankful for a small grasp of hope. “Could you turn around and give me my hoodie? I would like to change again” They were quick to do what you wanted them to do and changed as fast as possible. You cleared your voice and made them turn around again as you set down and took a sip of your coffee again.

“I hope you believe me now” you tried to break the silence which crept around the room like thick air. “How? And why us?” you gave them a weak smile as you desperately rung for a answer to come out. You sighed and leaned back looking at the ceiling, maybe it could give you a good answer.

“How is a good question, because I was born a werewolf but to my knowledge other werewolves are bitten to become one, like you” you bit your lower lip to seem less awkward but it didn't quite work. “Do we have to be werewolf?” you shook your head “You will be one for the rest of your life but you can abandon it and you will live like a human being on.” it seemed nice didn't it?

“What are the benefits?” Yoongi asked as he sipped his coffee again. You chuckled and nodded “Well, as a pack member you won't age. You could train your wolf and a lot more. It all depends” you laughed silently. “No aging? “ someone whispered “No, as soon as a wolf is accepted in the pack he's bond to live his life as a truthful pack member. As soon as he leaves the pack he will age from his joined age on. As a alpha I start aging as soon as my pack doesn't exist, I am the last one damned to age”

You lowered your head and closed your eyes to not think of your old pack “What happened to your pack?” the question was silent but so loud at the same time. Your breath hitched and you breathed out a shaky breath “They were killed, all of them” you whimpered. “I'm sorry” he silently apologised and you nodded “I wasn't able to protect them then, but I will now” you said rating your head.

You stood up and walked over to the front door opening it up fully. “You can leave and never come back. I won't hurt you nor will I force you but if you say yes to this then I will close this door and you will be able to exit it when you're able to control your wolf” you smiled at them and motioned them to decide.

“I'm in” Yoongi said and placed his mug on the cracked table. “Me too” Jimin and sat himself next to Yoongi. The others followed including the yelling one. You had to hold yourself back to not cry, you finally could fulfill your task as a alpha again.

“Alright, my name is Y/N and I am your pack’s alpha. Nice to meet you” you bowed to them deeply.

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 11 - In Your Head

Author’s Note: SURPRISE! Here it is! I FINALLY got this damn thing done, holy shit X_X I actually got only the first 2 pages done two nights ago and the other 14 tonight, but that’s beside the point.

Firstly, I apologize for just how long it took for this to come out. I was really busy with school and other things the last few weeks, plus I was having a difficult time getting this chapter started. I knew what I wanted to happen, I just didn’t know how to write it all out, you know?

Anyway, I’m not going to spoil anything, but holy fuck, I actually sacrificed my sanity writing this chapter. I’m a very squeamish person - I love horror, blood I can handle, and some gore I have my limits, but anything to do with surgical operations and hospitals and organs instantly does NOT sit right with me. I get incredibly upset and disturbed. Now of course there are different types of surgeries, and there are two in particular that scream so much NOPE to me. The first is spinal surgery, which was featured in Part 9 - that made me a squirming mess. The other one - the one I find the worst - is featured in this chapter, and I honestly have NO IDEA how the hell I wrote all of this, I really don’t. If I have nightmares tonight, I have myself to blame.

So that being said, HUGE WARNING: This chapter is incredibly graphic and gory. In fact, in my opinion, it’s probably going to be the most graphic and horrifying chapter in the entire fanfic, but who knows? There are graphic detailed depictions of surgical operations being performed, as well as certain surgical instruments mentioned. There are moments of abnormal body horror. There are intense, vivid, and horrifying hallucinations. There is a sense of dread and horror throughout, especially nearing the halfway mark onward. A character suffers extreme trauma to the point of heavily intoxicating themselves.

Honestly, I have no idea how I wrote this, let alone why. This is the most gruesome, disturbing thing I have ever written in all my life, I swear.

Also, there is foreshadowing in this chapter ;)

Listen to this playlist while reading it.

Enjoy!

Why are you here?

Thin beams of sunlight broke through the branches of a nearby tree, casting down over him where he stood. And though it was a rather warm summer day, the green-haired man only felt cold. He stood there out in the middle of the sidewalk, standing before a lovely winter-white house; the sort of which looked like it was right out of a fairy tale. Although all of the other houses appeared to look exactly the same, there was something about this one that stood out amongst the rest, and he was the only one who knew what that reason was.

It wasn’t how the house looked that made it different than the rest; it was who lived inside and what had happened there not too long ago. There had been a fight, a dreadful one. She had yelled at him over and over again like a screeching banshee. She had said that she needed time to think, and being the good husband he was, he had granted her wish. He would go off to work and give her some space. But a month or so later, he received a call while at work, and the words that came slithering out of her mouth constricted his poor heart to the point of shattering it. He had reached a breaking point.

Why are you here?

His hands clenched up into fists at his sides, digging his nails into his palms; attempting to block out the memory with sharp pain. He kept his eyes transfixed on the front door, staring at it as though he was expecting it to open at any moment. There were a few children – probably ranging between the ages of four and six – down the street, shrieking with delight as they chased one another. The green-haired man couldn’t hear them over the obnoxiously loud rush of blood in his ears. Whatever was left of his broken heart was pounding violently against his ribcage as though it was trying to escape.

He didn’t like this, not in the slightest. The last time they had spoken to each other it hadn’t been pleasant. They had gotten into the most heated argument they’d ever had, one so ugly and horrendous it had made him shed tears of sorrow. He didn’t want to lose her, he didn’t want to lose the kids. And yet, after that argument, he did something that neither of them would’ve ever expected. There was no way to sugar-coat it – he had shot himself. After hearing his wife go on about getting a divorce and how she wanted custody of the children, he couldn’t bear it. There was some sort of darkness deep within his heart, having been lingering there for some time, and those final words had granted that darkness freedom. Those words had destroyed him once and for all.

Why the hell are you here?

On live television, he had put a gun to his temple and pulled the trigger, attempting suicide. Everything had gone black, and though he had been in recovery in the hospital for over half a month, he was still trying to piece everything together – what had happened after the gunshot and how he had survived. Now, for some reason, here he was, about to see his wife and kids for the first time in what felt like years. And though he knew he should’ve been feeling hopeful and happy to see them again, he didn’t feel any of that. There was only heart-wrenching dread swelling inside his chest, and he couldn’t fully understand why.

What had brought him here? He had been avoiding this like the plague for the last three months, fearful of what consequences he’d be facing, and yet he had somehow finally worked up the courage to approach the house. He swallowed the lump in his throat and dug his nails further into his palms, wincing at the pain.

Why the FUCK are you here?

* * * * *

It was a late afternoon on April 9th when Henrik had found Chase.

One moment the doctor had been going about his business, handling some paperwork, and the next, there was a loud gunshot that shook the entirety of the void. Almost immediately Henrik had felt his blood run cold as dread settled into his veins. Something had happened to one of the others – he could sense it. Maybe it was his doctor’s instinct, but he knew someone had gotten severely hurt. Schneeple didn’t hesitate in his actions; the man bolted out of his office, weaved his way out of the hospital, and went in search of who had gotten hurt. He ran around aimlessly until he spotted three men, all standing around someone lying in a pool of blood on the ground. His heart stuttered.

Oh fuck, who was it? Who was the man on the ground?

Henrik didn’t even take the time to notice who was standing versus who was on the ground, he instantly rushed over to the group. He stopped dead in his tracks and gasped in alarm at the bleeding out man at his feet. Chase Brody – his dear friend, the one person he was rather close with – laid there in a crippled mess on the floor, staring up at the doctor blankly. There was a penny-sized hole in his right temple, a bullet wound, bleeding out onto the carpet underneath him. His arms were splayed out to either side, and a few inches away from his right hand lay a nine millimeter handgun. The poor man had attempted suicide, but luckily, he wasn’t dead; he was breathing shallowly and Henrik could make out a faint pulse in his neck vein. The doctor barely managed to breathe properly at this discovery.

He wasn’t dead – not yet anyway.

“Jesus Christ. Someone, grab me zee stretcher now!” Schneeple snapped as he dropped to his knees besides the wounded man.

Without saying a word, the two green-haired men towering over him dashed off to retrieve the stretcher, while the other man – one who was holding a camera – stood there staring down at Chase wide-eyed, looking rather shaken.

“I-I don’t know w-why he did it. I…I can’t understand w-what would’ve caused him to do this.” The man was visibly shaking and he wasn’t blinking. He looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “I mean, I did notice he was speaking to someone on the phone earlier, and he seemed rather upset. But – But I didn’t think he’d – he’d do something like this!”

Henrik instantly took a glance up at the man. “Vait, vait, hold on, he vas on zee phone vith someone? Who?”

The man shrugged, his face scrunching up with confusion; trying to recall what he had overheard Chase say to whoever was on the phone.

“I don’t know, umm…” He let out a huff of air and shook his head, “Something about a divorce and custody of the kids. He must’ve been speaking with his wife.”

“Fuck.” Henrik spat, turning his attention back to the bleeding man. “I should’ve guessed. Alvays moaning and groaning about Stacy. Goddamn it, Chase.”

Henrik stared down at Chase, gently grasping his head and moving it to the side to get a better look at the bullet hole. A very faint groan came from the man.

“Chase? Chase, buddy, can you hear me?” Henrik asked, lightly slapping Chase’s cheek to see if he could get a reaction out of him. There was none. His eyes were fixed onto the doctor, slowly blinking and struggling to focus. Unfortunately, the poor man couldn’t hear a single thing. His gun had gone off right at his temple and as soon as he had pulled the trigger, an ear-piercing ringing deafened him. He hadn’t the slightest idea what the doctor was saying. Everything was fuzzy to him. He was having difficulty keeping his eyes open, his gaze roaming around the room lazily; a very small smile on his lips. The man was in such a daze, he couldn’t really tell what was going on. Henrik slapped him again and gently shook his shoulder.

“Chase, come on. Focus. Focus on me, buddy.” He insisted, forcing the man to face him. The American could only release another groan in response.

“Goddamn it! Vhere is - ?!”

Before he could say another word, the egos came bursting into the room with the stretcher; coming to a screeching stop where the doctor was crouching over his bleeding friend. Henrik didn’t have to give an order; everyone immediately grabbed onto Chase and gently hauled him up and onto the stretcher. As soon as Chase was laid down, the doctor wheeled him out of the room and bolted for the hospital, not even bothering to take a glance backward. He could hear the others following close behind him.

“Nein! Stay back!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Return to vhat you had been doing! I don’t need anyone’s help!”

The two egos exchanged worrisome glances as Chase’s cameraman spoke up.

“But Doctor, there’s something you need to know. He – .”

“For fuck sake, I don’t have time for any of zhis!”

“Yes, but Doctor, he - .”

“He’ll be alright, I assure you of zhat! I can help him on my own! Now go!”

Without another word, and leaving them behind in the dust, Schneeple barged through the doors of the hospital and darted into the E.R. He didn’t hear what the cameraman muttered as he came to a stop.

“He’s done something horrible.”

* * * * *

Dr. Schneeplestein raced Chase over to the operating table and very carefully moved him from the stretcher onto the table. The wounded man let out a strained groan of agony.

“Don’t vorry, Chase, don’t vorry. You’re going to be okay. Schneep vill save you.” The good doctor reassured before he raced over to his surgical attire; rushing to slip everything on and nearly trip over his own feet in the process.

At hearing yet again another weakened sound escape his patient, Henrik returned to his side to get him hooked up to his monitors. He needed to keep track of the man’s vitals before he could even begin operating on him. He stripped Chase of his shirt and applied the electrode pads to his chest, his heartbeat starting up on the nearby monitor. After all of his vitals were clearly showing up on screen, Henrik inspected the wound. He adjusted the overhead light so he could get a better look, knowing all too well that he needed to see just how bad the situation was. Very gently, with gloved hands, the doctor touched the edges of the bloodied hole before checking the other side of the man’s head. There was no exit wound. For a fleeting moment, Henrik could’ve sworn he felt his stomach drop at that realization.

If there was no exit wound, that meant that the bullet had to be buried somewhere deep inside Chase’s brain. That would mean brain surgery would have to be required. He would have to open up the man’s skull and –

Henrik shook himself free of that possibility. He’d never performed such a surgery on anyone before, and today wasn’t going to be the day to give it a go. Returning his attention to the bullet hole, he reached for a small torch and shined it inside, trying to eyeball just how deep the bullet had gone. He couldn’t see all too much, but he barely made out a faint shine come from inside, like something metallic was glinting back at him. That had to be the bullet he was seeing – what else could it have been? And if that was the bullet, then that meant brain surgery wasn’t going to be necessary. Why operate if the bullet had only managed to get lodged between his skull and scalp? And admittedly, this discovery threw the doctor off.

Chase had shot himself point blank, hadn’t he? How else would the bullet have ended up here in the side of his head? If he had tried shooting through his mouth, the bullet would’ve been in a completely different location in his head. And no one would’ve shot him because honestly, who would ever want to shoot the man? As far as Schneep could tell, Chase and his cameraman had been close friends, and the poor guy had seemed rather shaken from what he’d witnessed. Plus there was the information about how Chase had been on the phone with Stacy before the incident. Everyone in the void knew just how broken up Chase had been about his relationship with Stacy for the last week or so, but no one – especially not Henrik – would’ve ever thought he’d be pushed to the point of putting a gun to his head.

“Vhat zee fuck vere you zhinking, Chase? Vhat zee fuck vere you zhinking?!” Henrik flared as he looked over the bullet hole. “Vhy zee hell vould you do somezhing like zhis to yourself? I know you vere hurting, I know you and Stacy vere having problems, but you could’ve said somezhing! You could’ve spoken vith someone – you could’ve come to me!” He snapped, locking his eyes onto his patient’s, almost looking at him pleadingly. “I, myself, am going zhrough a hard time vith my family. If zhere’s anyone in zhis godforsaken void zhat vould understand vhat you’re going zhrough, it’d be me!”

Chase couldn’t get out a response – he still couldn’t hear. He could just barely make out the doctor’s face and how his lips were moving, clearly forming words and talking to him, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what the man was saying. All he could do was stare up at the upset surgeon with a vaguely confused expression.

Henrik frowned and pushed away from him with a grunt, grabbing the anesthesia mask so he could knock out his patient. He shook his head in disbelief as he placed the mask over Chase’s nose and mouth, watching him slowly breathe in the gas and his eyelids struggling to stay open.

“You idiot…Vhy didn’t you come to me?” The doctor said under his breath, looking at his friend sadly.

The anesthesia took over and within a minute, Chase’s eyelids fell shut; falling into a black abyss of unconsciousness. Henrik briefly glanced at the monitors to make sure his patient’s vitals were still going at a steady pace. The American’s heartrate was escalating a tad bit, struggling to keep blood flowing up to his head. His breathing, however, was rather slow and deep, like it should’ve been. Sighing with relief, the doctor turned back to his patient.

If Henrik’s assumption was correct – that the bullet had only gotten stuck in his scalp versus his actual skull – how the hell was that possible? A point-blank shot, especially with the gun Chase had used, should’ve resulted in the bullet travelling in and out of his head, or at the very least should’ve gotten buried deep in his brain. Hell, there were burn marks surrounding the wound and petite pieces of shrapnel scattered about. And yet, from what the good doctor could tell, the bullet hadn’t gone deep at all. Odd.

No matter, Schneeplestein had to act fast. Leaving a bullet inside the man’s head unattended, what with all of the shrapnel as well, would surely result in infection or worse. He wouldn’t have to perform any brain surgery on his patient, but he’d have to dig in and extract the bullet.

Releasing a shaken breath of dread, the surgeon went to quickly retrieve the tools he’d need before collecting them onto a nearby stainless steel table and rolling it over to his side. He reached for a pair of forceps when the light above him flickered. He stopped himself and glanced at the light with puzzlement. What the hell was that for? The heart monitor behind him seemed to glitch out for a brief moment as well. He jerked his head in its direction and frowned. He remembered back to October 29th when he had saved Jack’s life, and the very same things had happened. He shook his head and let out a sigh of agitation. Maybe it was time to get new lights and monitors – clearly these ones were beginning to have some problems.

Brushing the signs off as nothing, the doctor returned back to his patient and grabbed his forceps. He leaned in close to Chase’s temple and slowly and carefully dug them into the man’s head. Small globules of blood ran out of the wound and down the side of Chase’s head, pooling under his head and staining his hair red. It took a moment until he hit anything, and even then, Henrik was afraid that maybe he had been wrong about the depth of the bullet, but once the tips of his forceps came in contact with metal, he let out a breath he’d been keeping in. He turned his head and eyed his scalpel, reaching for it and bringing it up to Chase’s head. He proceeded to cut into either side of the wound before prying open the wound with the forceps; widening it for easier access to the bullet.

His vision pulsed very suddenly, the light above him flickering once more. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head, attempting to brush off whatever was wrong with his vision. His heart stuttered violently in his chest right as the heart monitor behind him glitched out once again. And very faintly, barely audible, the German could’ve sworn he made out a gleeful giggle echo around the room. His eyes shot open and he stood up straight, looking around the room wildly as though he was expecting to find someone else there in the room with him. He noticed how the far end of the operating room had suddenly gone dark – all of the lights having shut off for some unknown reason. Brows weaving out of perplexity, the doctor stopped what he was doing, raised a hand to his mask, and tugged it down.

“Hello?” He called out. “Who’s zhere?”

There was no response, nothing but the beeping of the monitors from behind him and the shallow breathing coming from Chase. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any movement or any sign of someone hiding from him.

“I svear to God, I don’t have time for games.” He huffed. “If someone is zhere, please, get zee hell out of here. Can’t you see I’m dealing vith emergency?”

Still no response. After a good long moment of realizing nothing was happening, the doctor readjusted his mask over his face and returned to the task at hand; convincing himself that what he had heard was just his brain playing tricks on him. He stretched the wound open until he found it wide enough, and then blindly grabbed for a pair of retractors to keep the incision open in place while he worked. He took out his small torch and shined the light inside, given how the light above him wasn’t enough to make him see clearly. He could clearly make out the bullet now, buried down and nestled right up against the edge of the American’s skull. Schneeple swallowed. He could only hope there wasn’t any damage to the bone, otherwise he WOULD have to cut the man open and put a plate in his head. Trying to keep his hand as steady as possible, he opened the forceps and inserted them into the wound until they reached the bullet. He closed the tips around the circumference of it and cautiously began to extract the bullet from his friend’s head.

The overhead light flickered again and with no warning, an ear-piercing ringing shot through his eardrums. Henrik let out a yelp of pain and jumped in alarm, nearly ripping the bullet out of Chase carelessly because of the sudden action. He immediately set down the torch he was using and cupped one of his ears, shutting his eyes tightly and whimpering softly at the dull agony. Slowly, the sound began to die down and fade away into nothingness, but for a fleeting second, the doctor had gone deaf. He couldn’t hear the monitors behind him, he couldn’t hear the faint buzzing of the lights above him, he couldn’t hear his patient – absolutely nothing. That was until he heard someone, or something, chuckle tauntingly directly in his ear. A shiver raced up his spine as he jolted, his eyes shooting open out of fright.

Bad idea.

His vision was swimming, everything in sight appearing in layers, some of it distorted and blurred. He felt dizzy and quite lightheaded, like he was going to fall over. A shaky breath expelled from him as he closed his eyes again, leaning forward and holding his head up with one hand. He shook his head as though he was expecting his brain to smarten up and straighten out his vision obediently.

What the hell is going on? The German surgeon questioned himself. Why can’t you focus clearly? Is it because you’re operating on a friend? No…No, it can’t be because of that. You saved Jack before and that had been much worse. So why’s this happening?

Henrik felt his heart jolt and he gasped at the sudden pain, his eyes flying open. His vision was fine now, and strangely, the lights that had been turned off in the distance had come back on unexplainably.

Did you not eat enough earlier? Did you accidentally drug yourself again? Is that it – are you hallucinating all of this?

There was a loud beeping coming from over his shoulder. The heart monitor was going off – Chase’s heartrate was struggling to remain steady. Goddamn it, he didn’t have time to question what was wrong with himself, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Dr. Schneeplestein picked up the torch he’d been using and positioned it back over the bleeding wound while he slowly pulled the bullet out of his patient’s head.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

“Fucking Christ!” The doctor yelped, almost tearing the bullet out and damaging his friend’s insides.

He shot up straight at hearing the layered voices of which sounded like young children, probably between the age of six and eight. The lights off by the entrance of the room were out again, except this time is seemed like that entire portion of the room was completely pitch black. He couldn’t see a single thing. He squinted in a poor attempt to see if anything was there.

“Hello? I know someone’s zhere.” He called out towards the darkness. “Vhy don’t you show yourself?”

He didn’t get a reply, but there was a devious giggle again and this did NOT belong to a child. It sounded inhuman and layered, like there were two different entities laughing at both his confusion and growing anxiety. In fact, Henrik couldn’t deny it. He was beginning to get unnerved by what was happening. He felt like he was being watched, like someone – or something – else was there in the room unbeknownst to him, and they were keeping a close eye on him. He didn’t like it. He was growing increasingly more and more uncomfortable, and it was beginning to remind him of how he had felt when he had operated on Jack back in October. He could feel his heart pounding away against his ribcage and his breaths were coming out a tad uneven now. He shook his head and lowered his eyes back down to the open incision, trying to convince himself this was all his imagination. But then it happened again.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

And again.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

And again.

“You’re gonna regret.”

He lifted his head again and this time, the poor doctor yelped and jumped back in alarm at suddenly making out two figures standing in the shadows; nearly tripping over a few leads and cables down by his feet. He clutched his chest with a bloodied hand, his eyes never leaving the figures; shaky breaths expelling from his lips. From how small they were and how the voices sounded like they belonged to children, he had to assume the figures were exactly that, and given how one had long hair, what looked like a dress on, and how one voice seemed more soft and delicate than the other, he could only imagine that one was a boy and the other a girl. They weren’t moving and he could barely see them at all – he could only make out the faint silhouette of both of them, holding hands. He couldn’t see their faces at all. He blinked with confusion, although fear was also swirling in his eyes.

“H-Hello?” He stuttered. He swallowed hard and stood up straight, letting out a shallow sigh.

Get a hold of yourself, Schneep. They’re just children.

“Vhat are you two doing here? Are you lost?” He asked in a somewhat calm and collected manner, a small friendly smile coming to his face.

His eyes fell to Chase bleeding out on the table and he immediately rushed to try and shield the sight from the kids’ eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here. Zhis is very urgent. You two shouldn’t be seeing somezhing like zhis.” He scoffed. “Vouldn’t vant to give you any nightmares.”

There was an unnerving dead silence flooding the room. Neither one of the children moved, nor did they reply to Henrik. They just stood there like statues in the dark. The German’s smile faltered, getting a tad bit worried now.

“Did you not hear me? You shouldn’t be here. Now please, could you leave? I need to vork on my patient.”

There was still no response from either of the kids. He gulped and tore his gaze away, shaking his head.

“For fuck sake, Schneep, get a grip. You really need to stop drugging yourself. Zhis is getting out of hand.” He chided himself aloud, not seeming to care how there were children in the room.

Figuring that he was only hallucinating and the kids weren’t real, the good doctor went back to work. The bullet was halfway out when he noticed something that caused his heart to stutter. A glob of black sludge bubbled out of the wound and slowly drizzled down Chase’s head alongside some blood. Henrik’s brows furrowed as he dabbed one of his fingertips in it, pulling it back and watching as a thin string of ooze followed. He raised it up and under the light to get a better look at it, not understanding what it was. But he had this gut-wrenching feeling he’d seen it before somewhere, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

He jumped at hearing that layered voice again, his eyes peering over his glasses to see the children still very much standing in the blackened part of the room. He frowned.

“Vhy do you keep saying that? Vhat vill I regret?”

Like before, there was no response. He blinked and shifted his gaze down back at Chase, eyeing the bullet hole. He watched the black sludge leaking out of his head. His heart stuttered at the sight, a feeling of déjà vu washing over him. Where the hell had he seen this before? His eyes shot back to the children, staring at them with question.

“Saving him? Vhy vould I – ?”

“You’re gonna regret it.”

The doctor audibly gulped. Okay, that time it sounded much harsher, almost like it was a bit of a threat. Their voices sounded distorted – one at a higher pitch with the other getting droned out and rather deep. It was incredibly disturbing to Schneeple, and quite frankly, he was beginning to feel like he was in a dangerous situation. Maybe he should call for one of the others. Would they even hear him though? Marvin was too far off in his part of the void, and Jackieboy Man – he was ALWAYS busy, what with being a fulltime hero and all. The chances of either of them showing up let alone hearing the German doctor were at an all-time low. Henrik licked his trembling lips and parted them to question the kids, only he didn’t get a chance to speak. They decided to speak again, but this time, what they said was different. And it threw the doctor off-guard.

“You can’t save Daddy.”

Schneeple stood there frozen in place, eyes firmly fixed on the two shadowy figures.

‘Daddy’? Why would they – ?

Henrik’s heart gave a painful pang as realization finally settled over him. His eyes widened slightly as he stared at the kids.

“Vha – ? Are you…Are you Chase’s kids?”

Well that would make sense then, wouldn’t it? Why they were there – they were clearly worried about their father. But…But how would they have known about this? They hadn’t heard the gunshot, had they? And if they had, why show up so late? And how could they have entered the room without making a sound? And why were they strictly staying in the shadows? And why –

Henrik stopped himself. There were far too many questions going through his head all at once, and the more he thought about them, the more uneasy he was becoming with the kids in the room. He watched the kids uncertainly as he struggled to speak. He was afraid to ask.

“Vhat vill I regret?” He asked in such a soft shaky whisper, he almost thought they hadn’t heard him.

There was nothing but silence for a moment and suddenly, with a blink of his eyes, the figures were nowhere in sight. He blinked rapidly and stood up straight, searching the room for any sign of the kids, but they were gone, completely vanished from existence like they hadn’t ever been there to begin with. The panicked surgeon let out a ragged breath, dropping his head and running a hand over his face, seeming to forget how there was blood on his gloved fingers.

“Vhat zee fuck vas zhat?” He mumbled to himself.

After taking a good long moment to calm his heart down and get his breathing back in order, the doctor lifted his gaze to stare back out into the darkness. There weren’t any figures – not from what he could tell anyway. And yet, he still felt like he was being watched.

Fuck.

His hands were shaking ever so slightly, and he couldn’t work like this. One wrong move and there was no telling what’d happen. The head was a very delicate and fragile part of the body after all. The unhinged surgeon let out an exasperated sigh, set his tools down, and stormed over to the counter, outstretching a hand to grab for his bottle of diethyl ether. He froze up on the spot, eyes fixed onto the bottle uncertainly.

Don’t do it. You know you shouldn’t. You need to stop drugging yourself, it’s not doing you any good. His subconscious told him. Yes, you’re getting nervous and upset, but if you take a swig, it’s not going to help you.

He took hold of the bottle, hesitating to unscrew the cap.

Don’t do it.

Henrik unscrewed the cap, tossed it to the side, lowered his mask, and took a big gulp of the fluid, giving in to his addiction demon. He knew he shouldn’t have been giving in – he knew that – but he couldn’t help it. He had found that after what happened on October 29th, his secret addiction of ether had slowly gotten worse. Whenever he’d find himself feeling really nervous, upset, or overall emotionally unstable, he’d instantly resort to intoxicating himself and it always managed to calm his nerves down immediately. It wasn’t a healthy solution in the slightest, but he didn’t care. If it worked, then it worked, that’s all that mattered. And right at that moment, he really needed to calm his nerves the fuck down.

Taking the bottle away from his lips and feeling his body beginning to relax, Schneeple let out a sigh and headed back over to his patient; setting the bottle down on the nearby table just in case he’d need another swig. He lazily readjusted his mask, feeling a tad bit sluggish and tired all of a sudden. Yep, the drug was definitely kicking in now. Wonderful.

He took a glance at the monitors to make sure Chase’s vitals were still somewhat stable, and sure enough, they were. Henrik nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips from behind his mask.

“Good, good.” He turned to Chase. “You hear zhat, buddy? It’s all going to be alright.” He said, completely forgetting how his patient was unconscious and couldn’t see nor hear a thing. “Let me just take zhis bullet out of your head, huh? Zhen ve can fix you up.”

He grabbed hold of his forceps and pulled at the bullet, finally extracting it from the American’s head. However, at doing so, his vision gave a violent throb and everything blurred out for a moment. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his line of sight. He was getting awfully tired and relax – it had to be the effects of the ether.

The light above him flickered wildly all of a sudden and his vision was going in and out of focus, everything in sight seeming to look like it was all breathing. His eyes widened when he noticed a torrent of black sludge pulse and push out of the hole in Chase’s head as he removed the bullet, a long thick string of it attached to the bullet and getting stretched the more he pulled at it. He nearly gagged at the sight, and almost shrieked when he heard that eerie bone-rattling giggle once again.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

And then everything went black. The lights and monitors suddenly all shut down at once, causing the entire room to flood with eternal darkness. Henrik couldn’t see a damn thing, and the only thing he could hear was his own unsteady breathing, as well as the loud thudding of his own heart in his ears. What the – ?

And just as quick as it had happened, the light returned. In a blink of an eye, all of the lights and monitors were back on and he could see again…except there was something seriously wrong now.

Chase was still on the table and Schneeple was still hovering over him, but he was now standing behind Chase with the American’s head facing his direction; Chase’s head hanging over the edge of the table but his neck getting supported by a metal frame. There were dotted lines across the man’s forehead – put there by a marker. To his left, there were x-rays of Chase’s head, clearly showing that the bullet had in fact gone deep into his brain and there was swelling inside his brain thanks to the damage done. And to his right, there was a stainless steel table, littered with tools for surgery.

Tools for brain surgery.

Henrik’s eyes widened in horror, feeling his blood run ice cold as the situation dawned over him. What the hell was going on? Just a moment ago he had been taking the bullet out of Chase’s head, and now, for some reason, he was about to perform emergency brain surgery on the man? Why?! The bullet wound hadn’t been that serious – unless that had all been the real illusion and this was real time. Swallowing hard, Schneeple watched as well as felt as his body turned to the right and grabbed for something on the table, something of which was clearly plugged into a nearby wall. He pressed a button and the ear-shattered buzzing of a saw blade started up. He was holding an electric bone saw and he was about to start the operation.

Immediately, the German jumped back and let out a gasp of shock…but none of that happened. Nothing came out of his mouth and his body didn’t move, not the way he wanted it to anyway. Furrowing his brows out of puzzlement, the doctor went to jerk his arms or let go of the saw, but nothing was working. It was like his body had a mind of its own and refused to obey its master. Henrik’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he watched himself move the whirling blade to his patient’s forehead, positioning his other hand by the side of Chase’s head to keep him steady.

Henrik could feel his heart racing wildly deep within his chest, beating away at his ribcage so hard it hurt. And though he clearly wasn’t in any control of his body, he could feel himself trembling all over in fear. He didn’t want to do this, he couldn’t! Yes, he knew the procedure, but he had never done it before, and to do it for the first time ever on a close friend – this was a HORRIBLE idea! What if something went wrong? What if there was too much blood flow? What if he accidentally severed something while removing the bullet? There were too many ways this could go wrong and it was filling the poor surgeon with an insane amount of dread.

It was too late now. Letting out a horrified scream, the doctor watched as the blade sunk into Chase’s head, buzzing louder as it sliced through the skin like butter and finally began to cut into the man’s skull. Blood surfaced and ran down the sides of the American’s head, dripping onto the table. The deeper the saw went, more crimson poured out. Some even managed to spurt up into the doctor’s face, spraying across his mask and glasses. Slowly, Dr. Schneeplestein dragged the blade along the length of Chase’s forehead, the buzzing increasingly in loudness and getting accompanied by a nauseating crunching sound; the blade chewing away at the bone as it went. More blood flew up into the German’s face as he rotated the saw around the expanse of his patient’s head, cutting all the way around. Some blood managed to leak out when he reached underneath Chase’s head, and it dripped on his hand, some running down to the floor in red strings. Henrik thought maybe he was seeing things, but he could’ve sworn the deeper the blade went, there wasn’t just blood coming out. The deeper he went, something black seemed to start seeping out in long gross ribbons. Just like with the blood, this inky sludge was now flying up into the doctor’s face as well and he nearly gagged. The blade actually got jammed and stuck a few times given just how viscous and sticky the stuff was.

The entire top of Chase’s head had finally been cut all the way around, and as soon as that was done, with one hand, the doctor pulled back the saw and flicked it off; setting the blood-soaked, sludge-covered tool on the table. Returning his hand to his patient, Henrik held his breath as he slowly and carefully pulled the top of his friend’s head off and away from his body with extremely gut-wrenching cracking and wet, squishy sounds producing from it. Quite a bit of blood immediately flooded out of the unconscious American’s skull – not enough to kill him but enough to pour to the floor and create puddles at the disturbed doctor’s feet. A torrent of thick black ooze followed after it, raining down in streams. The German surgeon was about ready to vomit at the sight, but what he saw inside Chase’s head immediately made him drop the top portion of his friend’s skull.

The man’s brain was a complete mess. While it should have looked pink and reddened like any ordinary healthy human brain, that wasn’t the case with his. The whole thing was a very dull grey, as if all of the life had been sucked dry from it. All of his veins were blacker than black and were weaved out all over the organ, pulsing with sinister darkness. Very faint moss-green splotches spattered his entire brain, making it look severely infected, and what the doctor at first thought to be black spots dotting the organ turned out to be small holes, pumping black sludge out and oozing all along the brain. There was so much black, so much sludge. And if the doctor didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn he was seeing something slither around inside the organ; ooze coming out of any hole the thing would pass by.

Henrik felt his stomach churn and twist into knots, nausea swirling in his head. His face went whiter than a sheet, all of his blood running ice cold and draining from his face. His vision was starting to throb and spin, and though his insides had gone dead cold, the room felt like it was sweltering hot all of a sudden. His breathing was becoming so uneven, he was beginning to feel faint. He felt like he was going to be sick. This was far too much for him to handle. What the fuck had happened to Chase’s brain? Why did it look like this? What could’ve caused this? This wasn’t something he’d ever seen or heard of before, and as far as he knew, there was no parasite or virus that was capable of doing something like this to someone’s brain. What the fuck was going on?

The good doctor was about to reach for his scalpel and clamp to gently pry open a section of the brain to remove the bullet, but strangely, to his confusion, his body didn’t do that. Instead, his gloved hands reached into the American’s skull, gently grasped the pulsing organ, and began to pull towards him; slowly extracting Chase’s brain.

NOW he truly felt like he was going to throw up.

Unfortunately for the poor German, he couldn’t do anything to stop the horror; he could only watch as he reluctantly removed his friend’s brain from his head. A torrent of inky sludge poured out and splattered to the white tiling below; strands clinging to the organ and getting stretched as it was pulled out. As soon as it was taken out, Schneeple grabbed his scalpel and severed the brainstem before holding his blackened brain under the light and getting a good look at it. He wiped off a good amount of sludge and then set it aside of a slab nearby, the veins still throbbing strangely even though the whole thing had just been detached from its body. Henrik panted shakily at the disturbance of it all, not at all understanding why he would remove Chase’s brain when all he had to do was take out the bullet. He couldn’t come up with a logical reason as to why he just did what he did.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

The shaken surgeon nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing the children again. He immediately shot up and stared off into the darkness wide-eyed, instantly spotting the two familiar figures standing in the dark.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

He heard something move, and it wasn’t from where the kids were. Henrik jerked his head in the direction of where Chase lay on the table and stared directly into the man’s open, now-hollow skull. The interior of his head was completely bathed in red and black, mainly the lather, and there were small bits of what he could only assume to be brain matter swimming in a thick pool of sludge. He watched it intently, his heart jolting when he noticed the sludge ripple.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

Henrik went to look back at the kids, hesitating to ask what the hell did they want and why they were repeating the same goddamn words over and over again like that, but he never got the chance to. The man yelped and jumped back in alarm when he saw the sludge move out of the corner of his eye. His attention immediately fell back onto his patient’s gaping skull and to his horror, watched as the sludge began to slowly ooze out of the man’s head like a waterfall. A hand flung up to the German surgeon’s mask-covered mouth, keeping himself from letting out a scream. This sludge – it was moving like it was an actual living thing.

Taking slow steps backward and never taking his eyes off of it, Dr. Schneeplestein watched as the inky ooze began to stretch and pull, almost like it was struggling to take on a form. He sprung back and nearly slipped in a puddle of ooze as a limb made up of the inky stuff suddenly shot forward. It looked like an arm with seven fingers and a thumb, all of different lengths but all clawed and digging deep into the tiles. A low rumbly groan came from somewhere, and to the doctor’s horror, it was coming from the mass of ooze piled on the floor.

“Y-You’re gonna r-regret it.”

Henrik didn’t know where to look anymore. He was tempted to take a glance over the children, even though he could barely see them. But given the way their words were getting increasingly more distorted and rather threatening and intense, the man couldn’t help but look off into the darkness.

“Vhat do you vant?!” He demanded, tears beginning to well up in his eyes out of fear.

There was silence for a brief moment until he noticed the children slowly takes some steps forward, finally emerging from the shadows. Henrik’s blood went frozen still in his veins as he choked on a scream.

“Y-You cAn’t s-s-save DaDdy.”

The kids – their faces…Oh God, their faces. What had happened to them? What the

fuck

happened?!

“Y-Y-You cAn’t – You can’t s-save Daddy.”

“Y-You’re G-Gonna – gonna r-regret it.”

 Both of their faces were completely bloodied and mutilated. The boy’s right eye was gone, just one big bloody hole left in his wake. There was what looked like a large gunshot wound in his left cheek, a good portion of his jaw having been blown away. The girl, on the other hand – she had it so much worse. Her entire lower jaw was gone. It looked as though it had either gotten torn off or blown away by a gun. All that was left was a huge maw with torn muscle and flesh hanging loosely, her tongue hanging out with nowhere to go. God only knew how either of them were speaking. Their skin was extremely pale, blue veins lining their bodies and standing out against their dead-white complexion. They may as well have been living corpses – zombies. Henrik could only look on in absolute horror at Chase’s children, not believing his own eyes. He felt icy cold tears escape his eyes as he stumbled backward, yanking the mask away from his face.

“Oh my God! Oh my fucking God, no!” He screamed, shaking his head wildly. “No! V-Vhat – Vhat zee fuck is zhis? Vhy am I seeing zhis?!”

His screams got interrupted by another loud groan coming from the sludge by Chase’s body. His eyes immediately shot back to the thing writhing on the floor, its clawed fingers stretching out and attempting to pull itself across the floor towards the doctor. The poor man watched, trembling in stone-cold fear, as strings of the ooze began to piece together and form a faceless human-like head. Another arm sprung up from the mass, reaching forward and dragging itself along the ground. The thing lifted its head and faced the direction of where Schneeple was. A low sinister hiss came from the creature, a portion of its jaw caving in and stretching like a mouth; a howl of anger coming out of it.

“Y-You’re gonna R-REgrEt it.”

This was too much. This was far too much. Henrik was a quivering, sobbing mess at this point. He jumped back and screamed when the creature suddenly surged forward, its entire form seeming to glitch out before the doctor’s own eyes as it began crawling towards its victim.

“Yo-You’re goNnA R-RegREt i-i-it.”

“You c-c-ca-an’t S-SaVe daddy – save Daddy.”

 The poor doctor slipped on a puddle of blood and crashed to the ground, his breaths coming out laboured and shaky. He struggled to move away from the thing, kicking his feet only then to let out a horrified scream when he felt it dig its claws into his leg. He cried and writhed in pain as he watched the thing jerk and twitch unnaturally towards him, a static-laced growl coming from it as he crawled over top of him.

“You’re gonna regret it. You’re gonna regret it. You’re gonna regret it. You’re gonna regret it.”

“YoU’rE gOnnA regret – .”

 “YOu’Re GoNna reGrEt – .”

“YoU’Re GOnnA – .”

“YOu’Re gOnNa – .”

“YOU’RE – .”

Henrik shut his eyes tightly and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

And suddenly, everything stopped. The children weren’t speaking anymore. There were no more growls and groans coming from the creature. He didn’t even feel the pain of the thing’s claws in his leg. Hesitantly, Schneeple opened his eyes, one before the other.

He was where he had been from the very start. He was standing over Chase, who was laid out on the operating table; bullet wound pulled open with the bullet pulled halfway out. Chase’s head was perfectly fine other than that. His skull hadn’t been cut open, his severely infected brain wasn’t on a slab somewhere. There wasn’t any blood, black sludge, or gore on the floor crawling towards the doctor, and the mangled children who had been Chase’s kids weren’t in the room either.

None of what Henrik had just gone through had been real.

The poor German, he couldn’t stop shaking. His eyes were blown wide with terror, darting around the room wildly, trying to decipher if this was truly real time and that the nightmare he had just endured hadn’t been real. He did a double-take when he spotted his bottle of ether on the table beside him. Almost instantly, with a trembling bloodied hand, he grabbed the bottle, pulled his mask away from his face, and chugged more than half of the contents. He slammed it down when he figured he’d had enough. He shut his eyes tightly and whimpered, clutching his head with one hand, hoping like hell the drug would kick in, and make him relax. It took a tad longer than what he would’ve liked, but within a couple of minutes, the drug began to take its toll and he managed to let out a shaky sigh of relief.

He reopened his eyes and focused onto the wound in Chase’s head. He took a glance over his shoulder to check the man’s vitals. He was still fine, nothing extremely bad to worry about. Releasing another held-in breath, Henrik passed a hand over his face before he returned to the task, finally removing the bullet from Chase’s head, as well as the bits and pieces of shrapnel that were encrusted into his flesh and muscle. He chucked all of that away, sutured up the gaping hole, and gently cleaned the entire wound; washing away any and all blood that had gotten all over the American. Last but not least, he went and retrieved a blood bag and hooked the man up to it, infusing new blood into him, given just how much he had lost. One last time, Henrik turned to check the monitors to make sure everything was alright. His vitals were slowly but surely returning to a normal pace. Schneeple nearly laughed at knowing he had yet again managed to save a patient from death.

Henrik turned to Chase and lightly patted him on the shoulder.

“Vhat did I say? I told you zhat you’d be alright.” He couldn’t help but smile at that. He let out a shallow sigh. “Now zhen, let’s get you into more comfortable room, huh? One less sticky and bloody.”

He was about to move to unhook Chase from the monitors when he halted his actions. Maybe he should wait awhile, just to make sure his friend was truly going to be okay. Thinking that’d be a good idea, Henrik stepped away from the American, headed over to the chair behind his desk, and slid down into it with exhaustion. He sat there, slumped in the chair, still in his blood-spattered surgical cap, gloves, and smock, clearly not giving a damn. He was more concerned about Chase.

His eyes were tiredly fixed onto his recovering patient, worry gleaming in his eyes. His vivid hallucinations played out in his head over and over again like a broken record, trying to figure out why exactly he had seen all of those nightmare-inducing things. He could barely think clearly about it all right now – his brain was getting fogged up by the ether he had drunk. Feeling himself falling, the good doctor’s eyelids fluttered shut as he let sleep take over him.

Before he did, four words came to him.

Four words were hissed directly into his ear and threatened to destroy his dreams.

Four words he would surely never forget.

“You’re gonna regret it.”

Part 10 - Always Watching

Part 12 - Soon

Just adding this in case anyone got confused. Anti doesn’t show up at all in this chapter. Yes, the hallucinations Schneeple experiences are caused by Anti toying with his mind, but Anti himself doesn’t show up. He’s not possessing the doctor and he’s not pretending to be Chase similar to how he pretended to be Jack in Parts 6 and 8. Just letting you all know that.

@gridhorizon, @jse-fandom-protection-squad, @septic-obsessed, @darkcurious, @butterlover328, @steffid101, @sketchy-scribs-n-doods, @no-strings-puppet, @haveaverynicetime, @golden-eyed-guardians, @fear-is-nameless, @nightmarewolf133, @maybekatie, @jack-a-yote, @lil-gib, @aeoix, @lemonofweirdness, @randomcrystals, @vity-dream

[caroline18mars]

Into the night - Chapter 103

After Jared's orgasm, Jordan surfaced again and nestled herself in his welcoming arm for a second “that was phenomenal if I do say so myself” she grinned as she pushed her lips against his warm chest and let her fingers play with the hardly visible dots of chesthair. “You won't get any argument from me there, phenomenal wouldn't do what you just did justice” he kissed the top of her head and pulled her even closer “you are phenomenal and I love you so much” he didn't want this to end but she was getting restless again “hey..hey, were are you going? What is it?” he physically felt an emptiness when she pushed herself up and sat up on the edge of the bed. “Nothing, I promise, I forgot to take my pills so I'm just gonna get myself some water, do you want anything?” she looked over her shoulder and gave him a loving smile to put his mind at ease, “no, I'm good, just hurry back, ok?” he shook his head, running his hand over her bare back before she put on her silk robe and walked out of the bedroom. Ten minutes later, she still hadn't come back and he was getting restless himself so he got up as well and went searching for her, only to find her at the kitchen table scrolling through the messages on her phone, “should I be getting worried? I really hope that's not some secret lover sending you messages in the middle of the night? “ Jared came strolling up to her. “What?” her head shot up “no, no of course not! I hate to burst your bubble but I'll never be that LA or Hollywood, besides  how the hell do you expect me to have another man on the side, when I've more than already got my hands full with you” she pulled him between her legs so she could rest her cheek against his stomach “I love you too”. Jared smiled looking down and slowly caressed her hair “I know you do, and I'm glad you're not Hollywood or LA”, Jordan sighed a little and closed her eyes “that was Per, by the way, he keeps asking if he can come back tomorrow..”. Jared rolled his eyes hearing that name again “oh babe, I don't know..” he grumbled, he couldn't stand the sight of that man anymore, but it was her decision, not his. “He seems really sorry..I dunno..but doesn't everybody deserve a second chance?” her cheek disconnected from his stomach to look at her phone again, “you're too good for this world, you know that?” he suddenly leaned forward and she squealed as he scooped her up in his arms “anyway, I don't want to talk about him right now, especially when we could be doing far more interesting things”. Jordan put her arms around his neck as he carried her out of the kitchen and pushed her lips against his throat, softly biting his flesh while he carried her up the stairs and back into his bedroom. “I finally got you where I want you” he put her on the mattress and crawled over her, grinning against her lips after a series of hungry kisses, “Oh my Mr. Leto, you do seem to be ready for round two” she giggled in his ear as she felt him lower himself between her parting legs and his still covered hardness slowly grinded against her warm entrance. “Uh-uh” he murmured between her breasts, kissing and licking every piece of skin that got uncovered as he slowly untied her robe until she lay completely naked underneath him.

His mouth latched onto one of her nipples and she arched her back to meet the bliss he was giving her while his hand was squeezing and kneading its' way down her body until it stilled and covered the triangle at the apex of her thighs. A little sharp sigh of anticipation escaped her lips as a finger lazily ran over her folds and she could actually feel herself pushing her hips down to meet the finger and urge him for a little more friction, “hmm, that eager huh?” he looked up at her while his mouth switched focus and grazed against the other painfully hard nipple. “Uhhh” she closed her eyes in bliss when his finger dug between her folds, sliding smoothly inside of her only to pull it back a few seconds later, her big eyes filled with hugely dissapointed question marks which he completely ignored and continued playing with her breasts until she was squirming underneath him. This was the moment he loved, he knew he was slowly driving her crazy, soon she would start to beg him but soon came just a little quicker than he had expected when she put her hands against his cheeks and pulled him down for a blistering kiss “Jared..” she breathed but before she could continue, he positioned himself between her legs and entered her without hesitation, burying himself completely inside of her. It felt like she didn't remember how to breathe when he slowly started moving in and out of her, his warm naked body grinding against hers stimulated every nerve in her body and all she could do was fold her arms around him and hold on to him tightly. “Breathe” he whispered as he pushed deep again and his teeth tugged at her bottom lip to urge her on to snap out of the blissful spell she seemed to be under, he knew how careful they both needed to be with her heart and finally she exhaled when he pulled out of her, “Look at me, just look at me” he whispered as he claimed her mouth with a soft, short kiss and she immediately obeyed. “Don't tease me, Jared..I can't handle that right now” she whispered and just when a pang of fear that he had hurt her made the nerves in his neck squeeze together ever so painfully, she continued “I just want you to love me like only you can”. She felt him freeze up on top of her, his eyes blazing with worry so she lifted her legs and wrapped them tightly around his hips, her heels digging into his buttcheeks so the only thing he could do was slide inside of her again, filling every inch of her. He closed his eyes in ecstacy and let his forehead gently connect with hers and kissed the tip of her nose “I do love you” there was a tenderness to his voice that verged on the edge of tears, “I know..” she breathed, pushing her heels down again to urge him to move again. Their eyes locked again as he started thrusting and soon their bodies started moving as one, meeting every move the other one made and the room started to fill with grunts and extatic moans. Jared's mind was racing, he had never been a 'missionary position' kind of man, not without switching to some other positions anyway, but what was happening right now, was probably in his top 3 of best sex he ever had, it constantly switched between slow and tender to passionate and the right amount of rough. How long they had been at it, he didn't know but what he did know was that they were both a heaving mess when the familiar heat started to spread in his abdomen, but there was no way he was letting it happen without taking her along.

Jordan was so lost iin her sensual bubble that she didn't feel the loud thumping of her heart or how sore she was, right now she was  a mess with only one thing on her mind and that was to find release “Jay..” she breathed his name with urgency. His body had heard hers loud and clear “I know..” he stretched out high above her while his hips picked up an almost unbearable pace and she felt like the last bit of sanity she had left was being fucked out of her. With the last bit of energy that was left in her, she arched her back again, groaning and moaning her fingers dug into the crumpled sheets, trying to look for some kind of support against her earthshattering orgasm. Seeing her shatter into a million pieces underneath him, Jared let his head fall back while his hips finally stilled and shot his release deep inside of her, he had rarely felt closer to anyone than right now, not even with Ch.., his mind froze, he forbid himself to even go there, this was their moment of glory, the past had nothing to do with this. He stayed inside her while their initial ragged breathing was silenced by a long, slow kiss, their tongues dancing real slow and close together, but it was Jordan who reluctantly broke the kiss, making him frown “what is it?” he tried to follow her stare as she avoided his. “Nothing..it's nothing, I..” she whispered, was she crying? He cupped her chin “what is it? Tell me? Is it your heart?” he breathed, getting more worried by the second, “No..yes..I dunno why I'm crying..” a smile started to hiccup through her tears “that was just perfect..”. Jared's heart squeezed together in joy “Ah ok, I get it, orgasm tears! The best kind of tears” he kissed the skin right under her eye, tasting the salt on his lips “it was more than perfect, Jordan, more than fucking perfect”.  Jordan groaned a little when he slowly slid out of her, for a second she almost felt bereaved, like he had left a void deep down there but he quickly compensated by cradling her in the nook of his arm while her head rested on his chest. Silence surrounded their exhausted bodies, a hand caressed an arm, a soft kiss landed on the skin of a hard chest and their breathing turned into slow, deep breaths while slumber started to throw its' dark veil over them.

The morning sun threw her yellow, diffuse rays into the room and Jared stirred when his eyes fluttered open as he lay on his stomach, feeling a soft hand run up and down his spine, she was here and the rosy memories of what they had done hours earlier started floating through his mind, a smile forming on his lips “you didn't leave this time” he breathed, referring to her flight out of the house a couple of days ago. “I live here now remember?” her warm breath danced against his shoulder, making him roll on his side “so you do..” his voice hoarse and croaky as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and let his mouth connect with hers but when their lips disconnected he turned all serious and looked at her “I don't ever want to hurt you again”. The sincerity she saw, felt and heard overwhelmed her and all she could say was “I know” before she shuffled against him, burying herself in that little cocoon of closeness like only they could make, their mouths hungering for each other again. “Aunt Jordan!!!” Jared heard the boy's faint footsteps on the corridor running for their room already “I think we've got company” he reluctantly let go of her, he had to suppress a sigh of frustration as Jordan frowned and quickly rolled away from him to grab the robe that had landed next to the bed. She had barely just tied it up when the door of the bedroom swung open and Noah stormed in, jumping on top of the mattress, “Noah, come here! I told you to leave your aunt and Jared alone” Nahla who followed suit, had a big blush on her cheeks shuffling over to the bed. “It's alright, Nahla..” Jordan shook her head as she grabbed Noah's hand and pulled him down on the bed “Noah, will you just stop?” she snapped at the boy, this was a too harsh awakening from the rosy cloud she had been on. Noah frowned at her for being so stroppy with him while Nahla turned back to the door “I'll go start on breakfast” and left the room “why are you mad at me?” the boy flapped his eyelashes innocently at her, he really didn't have a clue, did he? “I'm not mad, Noah..I'm just..”. 

Jared interrupted her, he could clearly see how the boy was just winding her around  his little finger “Noah, remember when we were in Paris?” Noah turned to face Jared and nodded slowly, “ok and do you remember when I told you there that your aunt Jordan and I want to be alone from time to time?” Jared raised his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, you called it a funny word..pwiva..stree?” Noah tried to find the right word, “privacy! Exactly, pri-va-cy..well your aunt and I wanted to have some of that privacy when you walked in. Noah's lip turned into a pout “Oh”, it dawned on him what Jared was trying to say even though he didn't really understand, “yes oh, so can you please knock first next time?” Jared turned to look at the clock, what time was it anyway? “were you making babies with aunt Jordan? You said that a boy and girl make babies when they sleep together” Noah blurted out, making both Jordan and Jared's cheeks go bright red like they had been caught in the act. “That” he grabbed Noah and lifted him out of bed “is none of your business, young man! Anyway, your aunt has had a..rough night, so why don't you go over to Nahla and help her with breakfast? We'll be right down ok?”. He playfully patted the boy's behind to send him on his way and it worked because Noah frowned and then shrugged before he skipped out of the room again. Jordan sat up in bed and turned her head “Making babies? Really? The silly things you put in that boy's head sometimes”, Jared pulled her down with him and pinned her hands to the matress so he could abundantly kiss her throat . “Well, maybe we did last night..make a baby I mean” he hummed inbetween kisses and suddenly it made her restless again “Jared, come on, you know we didn't make a baby..” she put her hands against his shoulders, this was the second time in a few days that he brought up the subject of kids, he knew she was on the pill, so what the hell was going on?. Jared stopped the sensual attack on her throat and raised his head to look into her eyes “I really want us to have kids” the seriousness he said it with took her breath away and broke her heart at the same time. “Jay..I..told you, we can't ever have kids..” she sputtered but he instantly cut in “ok, maybe not with the heart you have now, but when you get a new heart..”. Jordan closed her eyes in frustration, he was ruining a perfectly romantic moment with all this talking about her heart and kids while all she wanted was to try and live in the moment, “Alright, alright, I'll shut up about it, but will you please promise me you'll think about it?”. He plucked a kiss from her lips and her frustration ebbed away so she nodded “ok, I'll think about it, I promise”,  which earned her a sexy smile and his mouth continued its' quest from her throat to the swell of her breasts “Good, until then we can start..you know..practicing” he licked the spot between her breasts which tickled “Oh really? Is that what this is?” she  giggled. “No, I lied, ok? I meant a LOT of practicing” he grinned against her skin when his hand snuck between her legs and soon she didn't even try to fight him off anymore.

[zerablackwell]

Chapter 7: One Step Forward, Ten Steps Backwards

Seth's voice rang through the darkness, Zera opened her eyes and found herself looking up at him. "Zera, you zoned out there or what?"

"I'm sorry, what?" She looked around to see where they were. The last thing she could remember was Luz. Were they leaving already?

"I was telling, I've noticed you seem to be a little sick. What does your father say about it?" Seth's eyes seemed intensely focused on her.

"Nothing because I'm not sick," Zera answered ignoring the confusion that left her feeling a bit foggy. Seth glared at his niece who merely waved him off. "You're reading too much into nothing."

"Zera. Darling, I know you are, you need to talk about whatever this is." Seth urged her, frowning. "I don't understand why you are ignoring something as concerning as this."

Taking a deep breath, Zera began, "Seth, if it happens again, then I will. I promise." She assured him," Where are we going now?"

"I'll be taking you to my place, we'll drop by here every day and use the library to keep you up to speed here."

"Why this library?"

"Time passes differently in Heaven, it doesn't travel as quickly as Earth," Seth explained, humming softly as he stood in front of her. "Now let's get back."

Zera nodded and closed her eyes, she felt a soft breeze brush past her. When she opened her eyes, Zera found herself in Seth's living room, "Where am I sleeping?"

"You'll be in my room, I'll be sleeping here," Seth answered, grabbing some blankets from a closet. Setting them down on the couch, he walked her to his room. "You can use my closet to put your luggage away if you want." Seth offered, opening his door and gestured for her to walk in.

The room was a decent size, the bed was rather large with grey sheets and beige pillows. The sheet was neatly tucked in under the mattress. Zera looked to Seth, "Thank you."

He smiled at her and nodded, "Of course, "I'll let you get settled in. Get some rest." Seth gave her a warning smile, then closed the door behind him as he returned to the living room.

Zera moved towards the door and rested her palm on it. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, feeling her energy extending towards it, Zera stepped back. She examined the door to ensure she properly sealed it.

She laid back on the bed and screamed in frustration, then looked towards the door. Waiting several minutes and felt relieved that Seth didn't seem to hear her. "Luz that was a wasted trip."

"I wouldn't necessarily say it was." He chirped into her car.

She rolled her eyes and glanced towards the direction and sat up in alarm when she saw the shadowy figure lying beside her. "L-Luz?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" The figure chuckled and she just stared in awe. "I was able to work some magic while you were spiraling." Luz continued and raised a hand in the air. As if beckoning her to come closer to him, he hummed a soft tune as she did. Immediately, she felt a sharp pain in her chest and the air in her lungs were forced out from her.

From Zera's chest came a small box, she gasped for breath as her shaky arms supported her on the bed. The box fell on to the bed and she coughed out. "What the hell is that?" She wheezed.

"Madeline's file."

Zera's eyes widened and she picked it up, "How did you...?"

"I am a man of many talents little one." Luz purred as he laid down fully on the bed.

Zera held up the box and examined it closely, turning the box over and she looked at Luz. His figure seemed to be watching her, she opened the box, "...are you sure this is Madeline's?"

"Yes," Luz answered. Suspicious of her question, he sat upon the bed.

"You're sure it's... up to date?" Zera looked up from the box, Luz nodded and she pulled out a notebook and opened it up."

"Of course it is, the archangels keep track of everyone and everything," Luz responded, concern creeping into his voice. "Why are you asking?"

"Half the notebook is blank," Zera began and Luz interrupted.

"That means she's still among the living."

"The last here is..." Zera pointed and gave up trying to decipher the characters on the page. "This doesn't look like any human language Luz."

Luz patted the space between them and Zera set down the notebook, he put a hand to the page without making contact with it. He muttered to himself, then looked towards her. "The last record of Madeline states she was last existing in 1415AD. She was last seen with runaway Azazel Colt and Aviana, last name unknown."

Zera snarled, "Damn it!" She screeched as she slammed her fist on the box, shattering it. "That's over 600 years ago Luz! She could be anywhere! This did nothing to help find her!"

The light began to drain and Zera's chest tightened with fear, Luz's voice was so low and even she felt chills. "It is not becoming of you to throw a tantrum little Colt. You want to be grown, then prove you are grown. When things do not go your way, what should you do instead of bitching and moaning about it."

The light slowly returned and Zera took a deep breath before answering, "I have to find another way to get what I need."

Luz gave a grin, fangs and pearly white teeth visible, "There you go."

Zera nodded slightly unnerved and looked at the broken box, furrowing her brows. "Aviana is too loyal to father to say anything. Father won't either. I can't push mother...perhaps," she looked up at Luz, "perhaps I could talk to my grandmother."

"You could if you think that would be the best course of action." Luz agreed and pointed to the door, "Either way, he is your ticket to her."

"I know he is, and I know to ensure he takes me to her," Zera responded as she set the notebook in her bag.

There was a knock on the door, Zera looked at it and whispered, "Luz, leave."

The shadowy figure of Luz dissipated and Zera undid the magic block on the door. She got up to unlock it only to find Aviana standing in front of Seth on the other side of the door. "See? I told you she was in one piece." He snapped at the brunette.

"Avi?"

"You didn't call yet, we wanted to make sure you're okay," Aviana responded, completely ignoring Seth and giving Zera a warm smile.

"Of course I am Avi." Zera smiled reassuringly in return, "You can let father know that I'm perfectly fine and I'm doing my school work." Zera giggled, "I haven't lost my sanity quite yet."

"Oh? You had sanity?" Aviana smirked. "Ain't that a miracle."

Zera giggled, "Very clever Avi."

Aviana gave the smaller girl a tight hug, "Just call your father so he doesn't explode. He almost came here, but Elijah was able to talk him into sending me instead."

Zera nodded, "Okay, I'll give him a ring." Aviana waited at the door while Zera dialed Azazel's number. On the second ring, he picked up, "Father~!"

"Zera Blackwell, what have you been doing? Why haven't you called?" Azazel snapped as soon as he heard his daughter's voice.

Zera huffed loudly and spoke, "I'm sorry Father, I was being told the house rules and then we had to get groceries because Seth apparently had none." She fibbed as she tapped her foot on the ground, clearly irritated.

"I see...all is...safe then?" Azazel asked, speaking slowly with a considerably softened tone.

The question and the sound his voice carried had caught Zera completely off guard, "Safe?... Yes, of course, it is." She assured, absentmindedly hugging herself.

There was a long silence, Zera almost thought that Azazel had hung up the phone before he spoke again. "Good, I know I..." His voice trailed off and there was another long pause before Zera could hear him clear his throat. "I expect you to complete your studies, and they had better be perfect. If I hear otherwise-"

The sudden change in subject and air of the conversation had jarred Zera lightly and agitated her. She couldn't help but explode when she cut him off, "Oh fuck off. I don't understand why you're getting so worked up, you have left me in the care of your brother. He is a better company than John was, I'm fine and Seth is in charge of my studies outside of home. Do me a favor and piss off." Zera snarled and crushed the phone in her grip, cutting her ear.

Aviana sighed, "You can't just take your anger out on the things around you. Now look, Seth doesn't have a phone anymore."

"He can buy himself a new phone. Azazel can go bite it. I don't care." Zera hissed, and she could feel her cheeks suddenly begin to warm. Ignoring it for the moment, she turned towards Seth. "Now can we get back to studies? I want to try and get tomorrow's portion out of the way."

Seth sighed and nodded, "Just get it from the bookshelf, on the bottom left."

Aviana glanced towards Seth in disbelief, "You actually have her wanting to do school work?"

"When you figure out how she works, compromise is easy." Seth shrugged.

Zera began to feel lightheaded as she stumbled towards the bookshelf. The adults had began to notice this and exchanged concerned looks, Aviana then reached out towards her. "Zera? Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fffine..." Zera waved her off, then used the steel bookshelf for support. Her vision started to blur and the voices that were supposed to belong to her uncle and best friend were muddled together. The next thing Zera knew, she could barely hear Luz and everything faded to black as she felt a sharp pain on her nose.