oh yeah i hate this btw. lmao:

Hi, hello. Posting like crazy rn but

I wrote a test snippet for a Mako fic I’m working on!! <3

The basic premise I’m thinking for this fic is Mako, a few months after the events of ROTE, becomes a private investigator, and through some turn of events goes to the Fire Nation, where he encounters his aunt he didn’t know he had.

As he investigates further, a case that he thought would be small and brief unfolds into a conspiracy with him in the middle of it. To boot, he’s been feeling strange, and has suspicions of its source being from his takedown of the spirit vine engine.

Any feedback appreciated 👀

—

Mako sat in an unfamiliar position in front of the Pai Sho board.

The constant ticks of his aunt’s clock resonated throughout the room. It made a noise that was debatably worse than silence would be. It made him feel like every second mattered when there was no viable time limit to latch onto. His aunt was patient enough, sitting there with her fingers folded under her chin.

As still as the room was, with his aunt and the golden, ornate grandfather clock being his only company, Mako was having an unusually hard time focusing.

The reason for his negligence of what was right in front of him continued to elude him. Something in his core buzzed at him like a hit of coffee, or a bout of adrenaline when he was running. But there was nothing wrong in the house. Just a quiet game of Pai Sho with his aunt.

And yet, sitting there on the red floor pillow, leaning over the short table, he felt something was wrong. The feeling was persistent, yet unhelpfully vague. Every time he glanced up he could feel tremors in his energy, like waves coming off of her and hitting him, resulting in mounting suspicion and anxiety when there was cause for none.

And most unhelpfully, it made his scarred arm ache, which meant he had to move his pieces with his other hand.

Mako moved one of the boat tiles from its perch on the edge, testing the waters. His line was caught as he hooked a smirk from his aunt that meant he did something wrong.

“No, the boat tile can’t move that way, dear. Move it back and try again”.

Pai Sho being different for various cultures was no joke. Mako thought it ridiculous when Bolin asked Korra to standardize Pai Sho rules in the middle of their steakout all those years ago, but he started to consider his little brother’s perspective a lot more seriously now that plenty of his moves were wrong by Fire Nation standards.

And each critique his aunt gave him chipped away at his ego. “I’m afraid that would be a useless move here, Mako. You could do it, but that doesn’t mean you should”.

If it were an actual game, he’d surely be drowning.

“Sorry. You said that”, Mako sighed, moving his misstep back to its original position. The board was barely changed in what had to be nearly an hour. “I guess I’m just distracted”.

“By what?”

Mako hated the way he impulsively averted his gaze when his aunt looked at him. She looked so much like his mom, just aged. Which wasn’t a surprise; they were sisters. But it made him ache for the impossibility that he could ever see his mom older than she was in the pictures. Or his dad, for that matter.

The only victory of contentment he could have now was seeing Bolin grow old. But it wasn’t like it’d be the same. Bolin being around that long was a success Mako didn’t deserve praise for. It was a necessity; something natural and simple. Anything for his brother. But seeing his parents, just older…it’d mean his life would be a lot different. He was at the point where he was unsure if that was a good or bad thing. Maybe just different.

“I dunno. I’ve been having weird feelings lately. I mean, like, sensations. In my chest and my arm. I’m worried that there’s something Kya missed when healing me”. As he told her this, his chest buzzed at a harsher level, like electricity was trying to reach his mouth and get him to shut up. His wrist throbbed, sending mini shockwaves of pain through his fingers.

“You know, there are specialized healers here in the Fire Nation”, Keima hummed, reaching out to take his hand and examine it with a sharp gaze. “I’m sure they could help you sense what’s giving you trouble. We have resources. Maybe an Earth Kingdom acupuncturist would help”.

Mako shuddered at the thought of needles. “Uh, no thanks. On the acupuncture, I mean. But…’sense’ what’s wrong with me? These are reputable healers, right?”

Mako recalled when he and Bolin were younger, and one of their frequent betters got Bolin on a healing crystal stint. Luckily it lasted for about a week; it didn’t take Mako long to convince Bolin that rocks helping auras was stupid, and there’s no way they were spiritual. He couldn’t bend them not because a spirit made them, but because they were made of cheap plastic.

And, in his defense, a week was a very short time for Bolin to not listen to him on something.

“Oh, of course! They’ll just read your energy and determine what’s best for you in terms of medicine. If any. You may be fine, and just experiencing phantom pains”.

‘Reading his energy’ didn’t sound very reputable to Mako. He must have shown his doubt on his face, because Keima gave him a warm chuckle. “My dear, surely you know that we Firebenders have applications beyond battle, right?”

“Well, sure”, Mako grunted, “I used to use my fire to heat up me and Bo on colder nights. And I used my lightning in a factory job once”.

“Practical and smart”, Keima praised, only to immediately spin it around. “But brutish, all things considered”.

Mako couldn’t take the jab to heart. His mother’s side of the family was apparently pretty well-off. They wouldn’t have to use it for battle much, unless something like an Agni Kai rolled around. Mako never learned their formal styles of Firebending. Breathing and feeling the energy and warmth of the sun seemed like a slower process than what was ideal.

He could agree it had merit, but he didn’t have time to rely on the sun and take deep breaths. His desperation and sheer force of will seemed to be enough for him. When he trained with Zolt in Lightningbending, he was praised on how fast he could get a bolt out. That was all he needed. No seconds wasted.

He found his grit to have further benefits in pro-bending. Toza couldn’t give Mako proper training like he could with Bolin, but Mako still took to the teachings of Earthbending in as much as he could.

He heard how earth was an element that someone needed to face down if they wanted it to bend to their will. Hold their ground, keep a wide stance. Be unwavering and confident.

Mako initially found it tricky. How was he supposed to face down something that came from within? Fire was so reliant on him. But in a way, it worked. Fire was a part of him he could think about looking in the eye and telling it that it was gonna do what he said whether it liked it or not. It wasn’t gonna get out of control, it was gonna come out quick, and it was gonna keep him and his brother warm and alive, even if the sun wasn’t out.

It cut the time of his lightning generation in half.

But he saw how formal Firebenders moved. How normal Firebenders moved. They didn’t swing their arms around and punch and kick like they were forcing their flames to come out. Fire seemed to erupt from their palms, the arches of their feet, blossoming in a wide motion until they cradled it. They raised it. They let it go, then it died.

It was slower than what he did, but for some reason he envied it. Or maybe he just envied never getting the chance to learn it like they did. He wasn’t completely sure.

“We feel our chi- our relationship with the fire’s warmth. It relies and is born from our energy, and in that way, it connects to others. We can feel what’s tangled up and impure, and it tells us how to conduct those pathways into something better. Something healthier. That’s why I suggested acupuncture. It’s a natural next step”.

“I’ll be happy just to know what’s going on. For a while I couldn’t even Firebend in this arm, and it’s still giving me more trouble. I still can’t Lightningbend, and it’s hard to even write. My hand shakes”.

“Then we’ll see what the trouble is this afternoon. I’ll make an appointment with Yangun. She’s one of the best around this area. Don’t worry, we’ll get this worked out in no time”, his aunt said with a warm smile. Mako looked away, feeling like his stomach was doing somersaults, electrified by that buzzing from his chest.

“In the meantime, why don’t we continue? I’ll reset the board”.

——

Love in the past: Chapter 5 - New Friends

Eddie x 2022! Reader

(time travel reader)

Chapter 4: Old Movies > < Chapter 6: The Crazy Van Dude

Summary: who would have thought that a simple investigation of events that happened more than 30 years ago would lead to an unforgettable and somewhat bizarre journey?.

Author´s note: Sorry for the delay, this chapter was supposed to be out yesterday, it's just been a busy week with personal, family and work issues. But finally, here it is. We're already in the TV series so the good stuff is coming! Hope you like it!!! <3

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The two teenagers looked worried, their breathing hitched by the speed at which they were coming on their bikes. The boy kept looking at Steve while the girl's eyes rested on you looking up and down, analyzing you.

"Have you watch the television? There's been a murder. Something else to add to the list of why Hawkins is a lousy place to live" Steve said.

"Steve, how many phones do you have?" the boy repeated.

"I don't know...two?" Robin said as she shrugged. "Three counting Keith's." The answer seemed to please the boy as he threw his backpack over the desk and then jumped over it causing a mess in his wake making Steve and Robin to let out groans at the same time. The red-haired girl next to you kept looking at you.

"You who are you?" she asked with apprehension.

"She's from the future...by the way...we don't know your name" Steve commented as he picked up several pencils that had fallen thanks to the boy who was now standing next to Robin.

"I'm (y/n) and I don't think it's wise to tell everyone I'm from the future." You commented as you folded your arms.

"Well, (y/n) this is Max and the brat with Robin is Dustin" Steve said calmly. "And don't worry, they've been with us on the weird stuff you claim to know."

"Are you seriously going to believe they are from the future Steve?" Max commented angrily, analyzing Steve's words, Max became even more upset. "You told him about what happened last year?!"

"Hey, take it easy. We haven´t say anything" Robin commented. "And if we've been up against the Russians and fighting creatures from another dimension, I don't think a traveler from the future is the craziest thing."

"Dustin what are you doing?" asked Steve frustrated.

“Eddie Munson is in danger” said Dustin.

"Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson? Your new older best friend?" Steve said in an annoyed tone. "I wouldn't be weirded out about it, he plays D&D, those things are the devil´s work." This comment made you look at Steve quizzical and made Dustin look annoyed.

"Steve, I play that ‘devil´s work’ and believe me it has nothing to do with it."

"Really? Dustin, you're going to believe she's from the future? What if she's a spy?" Max interrupted the two guys arguing about a board game

"Max, Robin is right. Her being from the future would be the least weird thing we've ever experienced" Dustin said as he grabbed a telephone and started calling different numbers.

"Well I do believe Eddie killed that girl" Steve folded his arms.

"Cut the crap and help us find him" Dustin replied angrily.

"Besides..." Max continued. "Yesterday Eddie was weird, I heard screaming from his trailer and then he ran off scared. He took off in his van. Something else is going on besides a death."

"You guys think... something strange is going on again?" asked Robin.

"Strange? Like beings from another dimension?" you asked as you lowered your arms. However, no one answered you.

"Could be..." finished Dustin.

"No, that's impossible. Didn´t the gates or portals close or stop or something like that?" continued Steve.

"Steve, maybe Eddie is innocent" Max said quietly.

"Look, I believe in that ‘innocent until proven guilty’ thing but I do think Eddie did have something to do with it" Steve's comment made everyone look at him quizzical and frustrated. There was a few minutes of silence until you decided to cut him off.

"How can I help you guys?" Your question caused Dustin to smile and start explaining to you about Eddie and his plan in calling different numbers. You, Robin and Max began to write down on different sheets of paper any data you found about Eddie's whereabouts, any information you got was being written down. However, they were not finding much as little was known about the boy. They stayed like that for a long time until Max began to write down quickly and then hung up, making everyone to look at her.

"Does anyone know where to find a Reefer Rick?" asked Max. "They say he's someone close to Eddie."

"I think he's the one who gives Eddie some drugs to sell" commented Dustin thoughtfully.

"Wait...your friend is a drug dealer?" you asked in surprise causing Steve to open his arms.

"Thanks! Someone else who thinks Munson is a bad influence on you guys" Steve said in a motherly type, both Dustin and Max looked at him with a serious expression. Robin, seeing this, spoke up to break the tension between the teens and Steve.

"We may be able to find him in the store's database. This is where everything is recorded" Robin said as she typed something into the computer, this made Dustin and Max move closer to her. Steve just let out a sigh to approach Robin. You stood back watching them as they took away options to find out where this Rick guy was. It didn't take long before they managed to find a clue. Quickly everyone started grabbing their stuff to look for Eddie. Steve told you what his car was while he and Robin locked up the video store. Dustin, Max and you got in the back of the car while Robin rode as a copilot and Steve drove.

The only thing you could hear was the car radio, causing an awkward silence.

"So...from the future?" said Dustin. "What year?"

"2022" you said as you hugged your backpack.

"What's it like?" Max continued, apparently she was already calmer because of your presence.

"Boring, not much has changed... Well, it has, but in phones, computers and televisions. Cars still don't fly and we haven't gone extinct from an apocalypse, so it's quiet. At least, as far as I know, we don't have beings from another dimension attacking us like in 1986" You said smiling.

"That means we won against them, right?" Dustin asked smiling. You just shook your head making his smile disappear.

"No. I don't know. Nothing that happened at Hawkins right now is documented in the future. It's hard to find information about this place, especially this time" You said.

"How did you get here?" Max continued.

"The same reason there is no information I decided to come and investigate. Long story short, I walked into the lab and all of a sudden I found myself here in this year."

"Hawkins' lab? Isn´t that dangerous?"

"It was abandoned when I went in, and there was no one there when I came out, so apparently it's not that dangerous to say the least."

"It is... or was. Experiments were being done on humans there. We'd like to think Eleven got her powers from there." Dustin said.

"Eleven? Like the number?" you asked.

"Yeah, she's a special girl with powers, a great friend. She's not here right now because she went to live in California with Joyce, Will and Jonathan, other friends" Said Max seriously.

"Mike went to visit them for spring break" commented Dustin.

"Dude, may I remind you that they doesn't know the group or any person you just mentioned" Said Steve from behind the wheel.

"Well...what do you want to know about this year?" asked Dustin surprisingly.

"Absolutely everything."

"Then get ready because it's a long story."

During the hours of driving Dustin was explaining to you all the events that had happened in town since Will disappeared, how they found Eleven, explained her powers and how she disappeared. As the conversation progressed, Steve told you more about how he took care of the children and how they went upside down. Then Max went on to tell how she had arrived, how she had made friends with the boys and her brother Bill. When this was mentioned, Max just remained silent and decided to just watch the window. Finally, Robin explained about the Russians they had confronted and what had happened at the mall.

So many things had happened in town so it was even stranger why there was no information about it at all. Even stranger that all of this was only known to a smaller group of ten people. How come the rest of the town hadn't heard about all this?

When we arrived at the house that was supposed to be Rick was already getting dark, the sky was turning dark shades of blue while some stars could already be seen. The sky was so clear that you wondered if the sky would look more beautiful at this time when there was less pollution in the sky compared to the skies of 2022.

You were the last to get out of Steve's car. You walked slowly as you looked at the sky and then at the lake. It was honestly a nice and peaceful place to live. Your thoughts were interrupted as you approached your new group of friends, all looking at the house in front of you, everyone was silent until you saw something that caught your attention.

"Hey! I know that van!"

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Tags:

(If you want to be tag or your tag is missing please tell me, some tags are not working and thanks for supporting this story! <3)

@lillyof-thevalley @jedinerd27 @greekktragedyy @preciousbabypeter @joukiworld @hellojameshowyadoin @sleepgod182 @knowledgefulbutterfly @totallynotkaibiased @felicityofbakerstreet @beatrizsunflower @stitchattacks @tyunite @thcorvi @im-nada @intergalacticaquarium @thedoubleexposurephotography @edenstarkk @bubblebuttwade @mouseymagines @notjosepedrobalmacedapascal @abbygraceasd @becc-wa @science--hoes @frozenhuntress67 @bucky-babygirl @mcueveryday @madhatterweasley @aspcun11 @allmixedlove @tina1938

tooth and nail

ask and you shall receive ;) @denpine14 @strawberrygem21

in which the Dimitrescu daughters exhibit cat-like traits

---------

“Dear Mother Miranda,

The girls have grown well, though there are some complications. Bela seems to have some form of anxiety and very low self-esteem, Cassandra has anger issues, and Daniela, I believe, has some type of hyperactivity disorder. Despite all of this, I love all of them dearly.

However…more strangely…they have…feline-like habits. I expected the hissing and growling, but the other things… Well, I’m not too sure how this has happened, as they were born from insects, but they weirdly act like little kittens in the most absurd ways. These mannerisms include, but are not limited to…”

“…headbutting…”

“Oof--” Alcina blinked in surprise and looked down as Bela headbutted her leg. “Yes, my darling?”

Bela giggled and headbutted her again. Alcina rubbed her head, which triggered a strange sound to fill the air.

“…and purring…”

Purring. Her daughter seemed to be purring.

Alcina’s heart swelled with love. She couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips.

Later that day, Cassandra and Daniela did the headbutting thing, too, both of them bonking her in the legs while giggling adorably. When she scratched along their scalps, they purred, just like their big sister had.

--- --- ---

“…staring when they want something…”

“Yes?” Alcina asked, raising an eyebrow at the trio of girls staring at her. If it weren’t for their different hair colors, it would have been difficult to discern them from each other with their matching black gowns and hoods. She made the mental note to give something to them to help make them out better.

Her daughters continued to stare.

“Is everything alright?”

Still nothing.

“Darlings?”

Cassandra reached out, swatted at her dress, and then they all took off running in different directions, their sock-clad feet making them run in place for a few seconds before they gained traction and streaked away in blurs of black.

--- --- ---

“…and also staring at nothing at all, as though they are seeing ghosts…”

Alcina blinked. Her daughters were staring intently at the wall, their eyes wide and shiny, like they had just witnessed the secrets of the universe. She tried to see what they were looking at but could spot nothing at all.

“What in the…?”

--- --- ---

“…pushing random things off of surfaces for seemingly no reason other than the fact that they like to…”

A loud clatter echoed down the hallway, and Alcina was quick to hurry to the source of the noise: the parlor, where Daniela was perched on one of the tables inside, staring down at a fallen candelabra. Luckily, none of the wax sticks were lit, as they would have sent the red-and-gold carpet over the floor up in flames. Daniela looked up at her, her eyes awestruck and shiny.

“Did you knock that over?” Alcina asked.

Daniela stared back. Then, slowly, reached out her hand and swatted over a cup.

--- --- ---

“…causing utter destruction…”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Alcina snapped, shooing Cassandra away from the blinds. Her daughter leaped back, her claws ripping out of the fabric she had been sharpening her talons on. “No. Do not scratch things up, Cassandra.”

Cassandra inspected her claws. “Then what am I supposed to sharpen them on? Look at how blunt they are!” They showed them to Alcina.

They were sharp enough to gut a human in one swipe.

In amusement, Alcina said, “How about tree bark? It’s rough enough to hone them.”

Cassandra considered it, then nodded. “Alright!” She bounded away to go destroy one of the trees in the garden.

That same day, Alcina found Daniela chewing on a branch in her bedroom, creating a small pile of woodchips beneath her jaw. She seemed to be doing the same thing as her older sister: sharpening her natural weapons. Alcina left her be.

--- --- ---

“…sudden hyperactivity…”

The loud sound of footsteps suddenly burst throughout the hallways, rebounding like thunder. They would stop at random, then begin again, seemingly in a sporadic pattern. When Alcina finally stepped out of her bedroom to investigate, she barely caught a blur of black as one of her daughters, she couldn’t tell who, whizzed past her like lightning. She spun around, blinking.

“What--”

At the same moment, one of the others came from a different direction and skidded to a stop in front of her. She whirled to them and saw that it was Bela.

“What are you three doing?” Alcina asked.

“Playing,” Bela answered blithely. She stepped forward, headbutted Alcina lovingly, then zoomed off again, slipping on her socks as she went.

--- --- ---

“…getting startled at the most mundane things…”

The parlor had been peaceful at one moment; Alcina was drinking her tea, while Cassandra and Daniela played chess and Bela multitasked reading and watching the game. It was then that Bela’s thread bookmark fell out and she swiped at it to pick it up. However, when the string seemed to catch on her claws, she got frightened, leaping at least five feet up into the air. Seeing their older sister so unsettled, Cassandra and Daniela did the same, nearly jumping out of their skin and scattering the game of chess as they scampered away in terror. Alcina laughed loudly as her daughters huddled against her sides, shaking.

--- --- ---

“…bringing me dead animals as gifts…”

Alcina was cleaning up for bed when there was a knock that filled her bedroom. She walked to the door and opened it, only to see no one. When she turned around, she saw Daniela clinging to her window sill, a mass of fur caught between her teeth.

“Daniela!”

Alcina quickly opened the window, and Daniela hopped inside. She presented the thing in her mouth to her with great pride: a rat.

“For you, Mother.”

“Ah-- thank you, my dove.”

Daniela purred as her head was rubbed affectionately.

The next day, Cassandra padded up to her, her chest puffed in pride, a large snake pierced by her fangs.

“A gift, Mother.”

“Thank you, my sweet.”

And then, that evening, Bela came to her door with a bird in her mouth.

“Here, Mother.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

And then the bird jerked away when Bela set it down and flew off down the hall in terror. They both watched it go.

“It was too pretty to kill.”

Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

--- --- ---

“…laying on my things when I need them…”

Alcina stared tiredly at the stack of girls laying on the folded clothes on her bed. All that space on her giant mattress that was made specifically for her size and they chose that exact spot. On her clothes.

Well. They were much too cute to wake up.

--- --- ---

“…laying on me and keeping me from getting up…”

“Maiden,” Alcina whispered.

The maid passing by stopped and turned to her instantly.

“Get me a glass of blood. I can’t get up and I am thirsty.”

The maid eyed the form of her youngest daughter stretched out on her lap, asleep, and then nodded, whisking away.

She hadn’t moved for three hours.

--- --- ---

“…they have no concept of personal space…”

Alcina was awake that night, her girls piled on top of her to the point where they were practically smothering her, Daniela and Cassandra under arms and Bela on her chest. Every time she twitched, they would move closer, snuggling in deeper to her heat. She wouldn’t be sleeping very comfortably, but at least her daughters were warm.

--- --- ---

“…sitting in strange places…”

“Are you comfortable?” Alcina asked, laughing.

Bela looked up from where she was reading and wedged inside a basket that was meant for quilts. Despite her small, wiry frame, it technically wasn’t her size, but she managed to curl herself inside, piled by the blankets and indulging herself in a good book.

“Yes,” Bela said, smiling.

Alcina would also go on to find Cassandra napping haphazardly on the banister of the upper hallway balcony, which she picked her up from and placed her back into her bed in fear of her falling off, and Daniela hiding in one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

However, none of these things beat when she found all three of her daughters crammed in a box, murmuring and giggling to each other over something.

--- --- ---

“…did I mention the purring? Because the purring is absolutely endearing. I do believe it has healing properties…”

Alcina wasn’t quite sure what she had come down with that day, but she woke up feeling exhausted and achy all over. She didn’t even think to get up and alert her girls to her condition, choosing to rather wallow in her bed, so it wasn’t a surprise when her room was soon filled by three worried bug-spawn creatures.

“Mother?” Daniela’s small hands were set on her shoulders.

Alcina stirred.

“Mother?” That was Bela, now.

She rolled over and blinked tired eyes at the worried-looking faces of her daughters.

“Hello, my darlings,” she croaked.

“Mother,” Bela said again, her voice thick with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Alcina nodded, though her mind was wavering, shrouded in a heavy fog. “I am fine. Just a little unwell.”

“Can we help you?” Cassandra asked, her hands twitching.

“Don’t worry,” Alcina answered. “I’ll be fine.”

Her daughters exchanged looks. A moment later, they were climbing onto the bed, curling up around her.

“We’re helping,” Daniela said.

Alcina had no idea how cuddling was supposed to help her, but then she heard the soft churring that filled the air. The purring in itself did little to actually heal her sickness, but something about the soft sound and the presence of her precious daughters soothed her. Bela, with her head on her chest, filled her heart with a gentle rumbling. Daniela, curled up right next to her, chirred gingerly in her ear. Cassandra, stretched out over her stomach, resonated a soothing burr throughout her body.

She chuckled tiredly. “Thank you, my loves…”

--- --- ---

“…and, at least when they were newly reborn, absolutely hating when I go into a room without them…”

She was just taking a shower. That was all. And yet, she could hear her young, one-week-old daughters on the other side of the door, yowling and screaming and scratching their claws into the wood.

“I’m just bathing!” she snapped.

They wailed louder.

--- --- ---

“…to wrap the letter up, it is certainly a strange phenomenon to the experiment, but I am not complaining at all. They are much more entertaining and endearing this way. I wouldn’t have them any other way. I would like to thank you again, Mother Miranda, for letting me have such sweet daughters.

That will be all for now. I will follow up in another letter if anything new comes up.

-Alcina Dimitrescu”

Hello! Can I request a Rise!Leo x female reader where the reader is very self conscious about her feelings towards the red slider and thinks that even Leo wouldn’t like her since no one else did, but then they are been chased (in a mission or a game with his brothers, idk) and have to hide together in a small place (like some closet or something) . Then a few things start to get serious and he says something that makes the reader even more uncomfortable and by the end she’s crying because she knows he’ll never even love her? I mean, Angst and angst with comfort.

TMNT masterlist

Ultimate masterlist

I don't deserve you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you see the way he looked at me? He kinda looked happy to see me, but that can't be right, he's probably just tired of hanging out with his brothers. But did you see the way he wrapped his arms around me? He practically lifted me off of the ground! Maybe he wants to be more than friends? I mean, he flirts with me on a daily basis and his brothers seem to think he has a thing for me. 

But why would he like me? I'm nothing special, I don't deserve him, I could never give him the love he truly warrants. Besides, I'm a loner of sorts, no one likes me above ground so why would below be any different, maybe they're just doing it to seem nice? They're heroes after all, heroes have to be nice, like, 24-7. 

"Yo (Y/N), you coming or what?" Leo called out to you, jogging in spot by the lair's entrance. He beckoned you multiple times after that, a cheeky grin on his face when you finally shuffled to a stop next to him. "You called, my lord?" you replied, a brow raised in fake frustration. Leo laughed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to his chest. Pulling away, Leo looked around the lair for his brothers, hoping Mikey wouldn't walk around the corner and spot them.

"I hope you didn't forget about our annual hide and seek event? C'mon, Mikey's seeking and we still need to find somewhere to hide before he tags us!" Leo rushed out, not waiting for a response from you. He grabbed your hand and tugged you along with him as he sprinted around the lair, he'd push you against the wall every so often when he thought he heard the demonic calls coming from Mikey. Each time he pushed himself against you another thought popped into your head:

Friends don't act like this, do they? They don't push themselves against you for the sake of a family game, ugh why can't he be clear about what he wants! Even if he did want to be more, would I be ready? I'm not right for him, I know I'm not, but does he know that?

"C'mon, this way," he drew on your conjoined hands again, leading you into the kitchen; a poor decision really considering there were barely any places to hide. You'd never seen Leo look so frantic before, practically diving behind the kitchen counter whenever he heard a slight creak from another room. Noting that your hands were still together, you broke them apart and shoved your hands in your jacket pocket. Leo sent you a quizzical look but ignored it in favour of investigating a strange sound he heard.

Popping his head above the kitchen counter, Leo's eyes switched from left to right, wanting to observe his surroundings. In the distance he could hear a yelp, sounded like Raph and if Raph was caught it meant he'd blabber everyone else's hiding spots. Thinking fast, Leo grabbed your hand and hid in the spot closest to him...a kitchen pantry. You resisted at first, pushing against him, but the moment he heard Raph and Mikey entering the kitchen, he pulled on you hard and shut the door before either seekers stepped foot into the kitchen.

You went to scream at him, roar about the way he acted too friendly when he didn't see you like that, but he silenced you. Smushing his finger against your lips, he squinted at you and tipped his head to the door where you could hear his brothers opening and closing cabinets. You pouted up at him, eyes folded in a glare, Leo looked puzzled. He wanted to talk to you about it, wanted to know the reason for your suddenly harsh behaviour, was he to blame? Did you really not want to play hide and seek?

You slumped back against the other wall, however, you were still in contact with his plastron. He continued to stare at you, trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty little head of yours. You could feel his gaze, cursing your body for feeling flustered, cheeks bruising red. When the sounds in the kitchen seemed to quieten, Leo was the first to speak.

"What's up with you today? You're acting weird," he whispered, still uncertain of his brother's whereabouts. You gawked at him, did he really just have the audacity to say you were acting weird? "Me acting weird? What about you acting weird!" you shoved a finger harshly against his chest. Leo's eyes widened, his form becoming defensive, "What do you mean I'm acting weird? You're the one who's suddenly all grumpy and acting like Oscar the Grouch."

"I am not!" you said, almost offended. Trying your best to turn from him and ultimately giving up, Leo poked your shoulder until you looked back at him. "What!" you groaned, quickly getting irritated with the manchild squished next to you. Leo sighed with his head tilted down, "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I just wanna know if you're okay, you mean a lot to me and I hate seeing you all sad about something."

It felt genuine, you couldn't shake the feeling of falling madly in love with the red-eared slider, but you needed to resist his siren ways. Pushing the feeling down, reality took over, "Don't say stuff like that-"

"Like what?"

"Like you care, I know it's just a front or something, you don't need to keep lying to me to make me feel better."

"What are you on about?" Leo questioned, hurt flashing in his eyes. You stared dead into his eyes, gulping down the mass amount of guilt and regret lodged in your throat, "We could never happen. Never. You're too good for me, I'm not enough for you." 

You pushed the door open, fidgetting your way out of the small space and into the kitchen. You glanced back at Leo, seeing the look of heartbreak clear as day, turning away you marched right out of the kitchen and to the entrance of the lair. Walking past the projector room, Mikey spotted you with a smile and called out to you "Found you, (Y/N)!" but you just kept on walking, ignoring the brother's calls for you to stop.

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 22

Hannibal and y/n arrive at Camp Big Brother and receive an unusual greeting.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: guns, threats of violence, cult stuff, brief mention of North Korea 

The car ride up to the mountain introduced you to a new feeling. You thought it similar to that of prisoners on their way to be executed. The comfortable numbness of accepting your rapidly-approaching demise. 

The road only brought you so far. It turned into a dirt path, which then turned into just the imprint of tire tracks. Your car wasn’t equipped for mountainous terrain, so you had to get out and walk. You weren’t ill-prepared for a hike; you made a point to change clothes before leaving the house, and your work shoes were worn-in enough to withstand a trek through the forest. You only feared losing one of your gloves.

It was Hannibal you were worried about. You’d never seen him in anything but a full three-piece suit and today was no exception. He’d taken off his jacket and vest, but having to hike in suit pants and dress shoes was far from ideal. 

You were in the middle of a game of ‘how many 12 gauge bullets can I fit on my person’ when you heard the rumbling of an ATV coming down the track. You loaded a shell into the gun and watched it turn the corner and stop in front of you. Hannibal stood behind you, looking dignified as ever. 

The driver dismounted the vehicle and took off their helmet. The woman beneath the helmet looked like she’d either lived a hard 20 years or an easy 50 years. You didn’t pay much attention to her face. She looked nourished and had a head full of hair, so she wasn’t one of Chase’s slaves. 

“Are you ‘prefect’?” You asked, squinting at her from behind the gun. “Or ‘Aunt Lydia’?” 

“You must be [F/N] [L/N].” The woman said. “Vanguard sent me to pick you up, but didn’t say anything about a guest.” 

“What’s to stop me from blasting your head off, taking that ATV and going up there myself?” You spat. 

The woman disregarded your question. She pulled a walkie-talkie from her belt and clicked it on. “Vanguard, [L/N] is here and she brought a friend.” 

The device crackled, then Chase spoke. “Is it a cop?” 

The woman scanned Hannibal up and down. “No.” 

“Let her off with a warning, then.” Chase instructed. “She knew the rules.” 

“You heard the man.” She pulled a pistol from her holster and pointed it at Hannibal with full intentions to shoot him dead. He put his hands behind his head, but didn’t seem at all fazed. 

You aimed the gun at the woman’s head. “I don’t think you want to do that.” 

“Don’t waste your ammo, love.” Hannibal said to you. “She’s obviously bluffing.” 

“You want to find out?” She pulled the hammer back. 

“Hannibal, she’s not bluffing!” Your voice started to shake. 

“Yes she is, darling.” He insisted. “Nobody would be stupid enough to fire off a shot this close to an active naval base.” 

She lowered her pistol. “What are you talking about, there’s no military base up here.” 

“Of course there is.” He refuted. “Camp David is within a few miles of here.”

For a moment, she looked genuinely fearful. You thought you saw her cult mask begin to slip as she remembered that there was a world outside of the one Chase cultivated. 

“Oh.” Hannibal feigned surprise. “That is, unless, Chase Mulvaney didn’t tell you.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I’m his right-hand woman, he tells me everything.” 

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it seems he sees you as just as disposable as Catherine Miller. He sent you down here to kill anyone [F/N] brought along with her, catching the attention of the military personnel on base and ultimately throwing you under the bus.” 

“He wouldn’t.” She snapped. “Chase loves me like a sister.”

“I’ll bet that’s what he tells the other girls.” You commented. 

Judging by the look on her face, you were right. And you struck a nerve. 

“But, if you are so inclined to do Chase’s dirty work for him,” Hannibal said, loosening his collar. “At least try not to get blood on my suit pants.” 

She held the gun out for a few moments, then dropped it. “He would want to kill you himself.”

“That’s more like it.” You said, mounting the vehicle with your gun slung over your back. 

“Vanguard doesn’t mind two armed strangers on his property?” Hannibal asked, having to yell over the revving of the engine. 

The woman scoffed. “It doesn’t make any difference. Bullets don’t work on Vanguard.” 

You furrowed your brow. “What?” 

“Vanguard is blessed with the armor of Christ.” She said, with 100% conviction. There wasn’t a trace of irony or sarcasm in her voice. “No bullets can pierce his earthly flesh.” 

“Do you actually believe what you’re saying, or is this all some kind of fucked-up extended metaphor?” You asked. 

“Vanguard proved it in chapel.” She insisted. “He fired a gun at his chest and it didn’t puncture him! The bullet just crumpled against his chest.”

“Wow.” You said, flatly. This person’s rationality was so scrubbed away, she could be fooled by even the lamest of magic tricks. 

“The people of North Korea believe that Kim-Jong Il is responsible for inventing the hamburger.” Hannibal whispered to you. “Because they don’t have access to any information that proves otherwise.” 

“Yeah, we’re about to ‘prove otherwise’ alright.” You muttered back with a smile. 

After a few minutes, the outline of a building appeared. As you grew closer, you saw a cheaply-constructed cabin made for quantity, not quality. Next to it was a chapel, but it was only identifiable as such because of the massive cross. With industrial metal siding and no visible windows, it resembled a bomb shelter. 

The woman unceremoniously dumped you both off the ATV at an opening in the razor wire fence.

"Morning devotional is at eight." She explained. "You'll hear the bell ring. You'll be expected to attend, of course."

"I don't give a shit what you expect." You shook your head. "I don't owe you fucks anything."

"But you owe Jesus everything." She said, matter-of-factually.

“What in the Midsommar fuck is this?” You said, squinting in the early daylight. 

“Come on.” Hannibal took your gloved hand in his. “Let’s find our Will.” 

The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains off in the distance, coloring the sky as red as the blood on Chase's hands.

"It's going to be light soon." Hannibal whispered. "We only have so long before people start to wake up."

"So where do we check first?" You asked.

"At eight, the chapel will be full and the cabin will be empty." Hannibal pointed out. "That gives us fifteen minutes to search the chapel until people start filing in."

You nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

You snuck towards the entrance to the chapel and crept inside without a sound. One look and you knew you had a lot of ground to cover in only fifteen minutes.

The chapel looked like the inside of a shipping container. You knew that growing up Catholic gave you a certain image of how church should look, but this was hardly a structure, let alone a place of worship. Much like the outside, the only feature that identified this building as a church was the massive cross, which was not even mounted on the wall or suspended from the ceiling. It just laid lazily against the back wall. A couple of folding tables with some linens draped over them made up a bare-bones altar, decorated with nothing but a couple of candles. The high windows gave the chilling feeling that the room was underground.

"You'd think with ninety million dollars, they could afford some real chairs." You commented, looking disgustedly at the rows of folding chairs.

"This isn't a summer camp." Hannibal observed. "This is a military base."

Your foot hit a loose tile on the ground. You took a knee and grabbed it. A whole patch of tiles lifted with it, revealing a small secret door. 

“I think you might be on to something.” You said, looking up at Hannibal. 

You slung your gun over your back and carefully descended the ladder while Hannibal kept watch. 

“It’s dark down here.” You called up. You heard the striking of a match and Hannibal handed you a lit candle. You were about to thank him when the sharp tones of a bell cut through the silence. 

“Shit.” You cursed. “Hannibal, close the hatch.” 

“I’m not going to leave you.” Hannibal’s voice hardened. 

“This bunker is narrow as Christ’s asshole.” You said. “I can handle it. You need to investigate the cabin.” 

“Darling-” 

“Go to the cabin. Now.” You demanded. “I’m not asking.” 

Hannibal smiled down at you, feeling a sense of pride. He knelt down beside the trap door, and reached for your hand. He removed your glove and pressed his lips against your skin. “Godspeed, my indulgence.” 

You saluted. “And also with you.” 

End of Shift

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My life is over. I've been playing a high stakes game, and somehow landed on one side of the odds all the time, but my luck was bound to run out sooner or later. I guess I should be happy that it turned out to be later, but it sucks no less. I got sloppy. I was looking through the items near the cashier, as always, trying to mostly use reflective surfaces to see what was going on, as always. I need to be within 15 feet or latency becomes an issue. Some old lady still using the old wallet was buying KokaKola and a pack of Ziffs. This would be easy, as always. I discreetly pressed my watch as she was ready to make the purchase, activating my EM-swiper. I wouldn't take much, a few credits more. She probably wouldn't notice it, or think the store stiffed her, or think she bought two packs of Ziffs and lost one. I'm not stealing to get rich, just to get by.

As the EM-swiper went off a high pitched beeping starts behind me. I barely have time to turn my head enough to see the charging police officer, before he slams me into the side of a KokaKola fridge. Shit, I hadn't done a survey pass through the store as I always do. I could barely register what he was screaming in my ear. "Drop it," I realize, and let go of the magazine. He must have thought I had the EM-swiper in my hand. He told me to put my hands against the wall and performed a pat-down. It's only him, so he must be off duty or not on a real patrol. He empties my pockets on the cashier table. Nothing of value, and certainly not something incriminating. I may not have been fortunate enough to afford academy, but I'm not stupid.

"You are detained under suspicion of committing proximity fraud. Do you understand?" he asks me in that commanding yet bored tone of a laborer having to recite corporate bullshit, only in his case it is in the pretense of justice. "Yes," I answer him. He doesn't have anything on me or he would have arrested me right away. Probably. "Put this on to acknowledge you've read the Citizen Rights Act and agree to an investigation in this matter." He hands me a pair of handcuffs to put on. I hesitate for a second. He is behind me and in the way of the store exit. I can stall for time and tell him to recite the CRA, but that immediately counts against you, as it is your duty to know it. I have no choice but to put them on. It's the latest model. I haven't seen any up close before. Light, thin, all metal, no key hole. Probably opened remotely or only inside a police cell or some shit. I put them on.

"Turn around, pick up your stuff, and exit the store." I do as told, turn around and begin to pick up my stuff and put them back where he took them. It's an older police officer. None of them young, jacked up types. Perhaps he is one of the fair ones. But then I am the criminal, so what good would that do me? There's a small, black duffle bag by his side. So he is on his way home. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps I can shake him. Have Leo remove the shackles and then stay low for a fucking long time. Or this just doesn't amount to anything more than a slap on the wrist. I walk towards the door, him behind me.

"Nice watch," he says, pointing at my wrist as I reach or the door.

He knows. Unless I can get away now my life is over. All I can think of is the monstrosities the state churn out as punishment. Equal part labor force and sadism. I open the door as little as possible and as soon as I am through I dash down the block. I don't dare look behind me, but I don't hear him in pursuit. Halfway down the block I swerve into the alley that cuts across the building and out on the block on the other side. If I can cross that block and then down south I'm in the park and there are plenty of places to hide there.

My hands are not on fire. This surprises me as I look down on my hands, screaming in pain. There is a high pitched sound coming out of the handcuffs, like capacitors charging, but it is continuous. The pain emanating from my hands is something unlike anything I've ever experienced before. My legs buckle. I know I need to move, somehow, somewhere. It's just so difficult to think of anything but my hands that are not on fire. It would probably be a good idea to not scream my lungs out, but I don't really have a choice in that.

Just as suddenly as it started it stops. I'm still writhing in pain, but my hands are not on fire in a much more comforting way. "The payment proxy is in your watch, is it not?" the policeman asks, standing a few steps away. I'm panting, I realize when I attempt to answer him. Panting and sweaty. I can't manage to speak. I just nod my head.

"The state vs. item RK-220553 finds the defendant guilty to breach of contract with the state, executed by judicial AI 5" he reads off his handheld screen. I'm confused to what just happened. "No trial?" I manage to wheeze out. "You entered into a cooperation contract when you put on the handcuffs, as you are aware of as you claimed to know the Citizens Rights Act. Disobedience at that point allows for immediate trial by AI as long as no forensic work is needed." He sounded like the same bored cop as he was in the store, reciting memorized text for the thousandth time.

I struggle to get up on my feet. Not only am I shaky, but having my hands locked together makes it surprisingly difficult to get up. "You know, this is bad timing," the cop starts. "I was on my way home and don't have all the standard gear. It's supposed to be a swift punishment, for deterrence, but there is really only one thing I can do." Why is he so apologetic? He opens the bag and pulls out a fucking tactical human transformer. I've never even seen one in person before. He turns it on, selects something on the screen, and points the device towards me. "No, I can..."

This time I am on fire, if only so briefly. There is a blinding light, a pulse of heat, and the smell of burnt plastic. As the transient heat subsides it keeps falling colder and colder. I'm naked. All my clothes have been singed from my body. My watch is gone. My shoes are gone. Underwear gone. And, I realize, my hair is gone. The cop keeps punching in selections in the menus of the devices. I manage to get up on my feet. "Stay on the ground," he tells me. Not so much as an order, but as an advice. I sit down again and he trains the device on me.

I don't know how to describe it. It's not pain exactly. There is something about rewriting the code and cellular structure of your body while your brain is engaged that makes it give up in disbelief. "This can't be what's actually happening," it thinks and gives you completely nonsense sensory interpretations. But it also gives up on all other tasks. Time becomes irrelevant. Critical thinking put on hold. When the device stops you are utterly confused for seconds. Possibly by design, but it makes sense that you can't rewire the brain in flight without some glitches.

"I want you to stand up," the cop says in a firm voice. "Who?" I ask, still dazed, just to make sure. "You. Get up on both feet. Take this." He throws an orange bundle to me, and I feebly grasp for it but my one arm yanks the chain to the cuff of the other arm. The bundle brushes by and lands on the ground next to me. He looks disappointed, more at himself for thinking it would work than on me for not catching it.

I look down at my hand and see something orange in my grip, but it is not the orange that interests my but the grip. My arms, thin from lack of food and nimble from grabbing P2 storage modules out of vendor racks. are enormous. Big, well defined muscles with popped veins going up and around them. They look longer than before and even the hands are larger than they used to be. I can see that not only my arms are different. My chest is all lean and strong-looking as well, the legs have these weird lines showing different groups of muscles under the skin, and I can almost bet that the ground is further down than it used to be. Orange! I'm holding something orange in my hand.

"I only have an emergency kit with me, so not very many options for you I'm afraid. If you had come with me I think they would have found some better use for you, but as I said, I didn't have much to chose from beside himbot," the cop said while putting some beat-up looking boots from his bag next to me. He grabs the chain between my cuffs, and both of them pop open instantly, and he folds them up and begins to place them back into the cuff holder in his belt.

There was something he said that was important. Like, really important. I feel cobwebs like I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. "Put on the jock," he tells me, and again I am confused, but of a different kind. It's like I urgently need to know what he means, somehow. "You're holding them in your hand." I again look down at my hand and see the orange piece of cloth, which obviously is what he meant. I flip it around in my hands and finds it to be an orange jockstrap with a generous pouch. Looking down I also see the reason for that, since my dick and balls are large. Much larger than I remember them to be. I don't want to keep him waiting, so as quickly as I can manage, with my balance a bit off, I manage to place one leg in each loop and pull up the jockstrap. It neatly collects everything in front into a large orange ball.

Himbot! That's what he had said. It's like the government robots but human. What was the I and M now again? Wait, those are just mindless sacks of muscles roaming around doing whatever menial task is available.

"Himbot?" I ask him. "Yes, you are a himbot," the cop answered. "Put on the shirt."

I immediately grabbed the orange bundle from the ground I assumed to be the shirt. To my delight I was right and with just a few tries I managed to get it on me. It isn't a real shirt, but one of those without arms, whatever they are called. Quite a lot of skin showed. The shoulders were bare, as were the sides and the nipples unless you positioned the strings just right. Stringers! It's called a stringers, or something close to it. I feel so tired thinking of words.

"And the boots"

I grab one of the boots. There is something missing, but I'm not sure what it is. I has something to do with the small holes, I think. Well, the large hole is missing a foot, so I put one in it. Then I put the other foot in the other boot, and looked at the cop to see if he approved. He looks about the same. Good enough I hope.

"Face me and raise your hands" I comply immediately. He is pointing the large gun at me again. I don't like it, but I must do what he says. He presses a few buttons and then there is a sharp headache.

"Who are you?" "Himbot 220553." "What is your assignment?" "Walk along path 228-red responding to requests." "What types of requests?" "Any type of requests."

Prompt #29/116

#29- Look at me/# 116. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Aaron crossed the line of objectivity somewhere between Morgan screaming his name through the bullpen, and listening to Benjamin Cyrus unleash his wrath on Emily two days later. He clenched a set of headphones with shaking hands and a surge of rage coiling deep in his chest and coursing through his veins. He can’t bring himself to think of it, knowing it’s partly his fault in the first damn place for sending her and Reid there.

It wouldn’t be the only line that’s been crossed in the months since his divorce papers were finalized, and what happened before and after the disaster that was New York City. It happened once, until it happened twice, and before long it was happening whenever they could sneak a few hurried moments. It was never supposed to happen but it did, and it adds an entirely different layer of complications. Despite their best intentions, those complications are now starting to creep into their work on what seems like an all too regular basis. It can’t happen, but it keeps happening.

The aftermath of New York left him uncomfortably vulnerable like never before. Kate’s death rocked him, and it was Emily’s patience and quiet concern that kept him from spiraling out of control. He blamed himself; he felt responsible for not being able to save her from bleeding out on a Midtown street. It was Emily’s quiet whispers in the dark in the days after that reminded him sometimes, we can’t win them all.

Now it’s his turn in a game they never asked to play, a turning of the tables.

“We gotta go in,” he’d said to Dave, trying and failing to conceal the anger in his tone. It’s the only option while not being an option at all; one that will only bring a negative outcome. He knows that, but objectivity is a myth at this point.

“We’d be risking the lives of everybody in there.” Dave had been annoyingly rational and the picture of calm throughout the entire hellish experience. His suspicions are abundantly clear, even if he’s tight lipped and completely neutral. He’d seen what happened shortly after New York and in Ohio, and Dave has been around long enough to know how these things go. So he stays close to Aaron, leads the hostage negotiation response and never wavers once over the course of the few days that seemingly never end.

With whatever degree of composure Aaron has left - the rest of it waned as the time in Colorado dragged on - he blindly follows Dave across the grounds towards the explosion and flames. Swarms of people emerge from the burning building in varying states of duress. The Colorado police attempt to triage survivors and maintain some semblance of order. Aaron barely hears them, because as the space between them closes, he has to pull himself together.

They’re okay, thank God, despite being bruised, dirty, and exhausted. The extent of their injuries will be confirmed in the coming hours, but his initial inspection is one of immediate relief. “Are you alright?” He asks, and both nod even as though his question is directed at her, a secret they’re both all too aware of.

“Yeah,” Emily manages, dazed and confused, her face a canvas of purple and red splotches in the shape of angry fists. Up close, it’s clear whatever she suffered at the hands of Benjamin Cyrus will remain for awhile, on the inside and out. Aaron swallows, and resists the urge to move closer to her. Hugging her would make all of this too real, a confirmation of their closely guarded secret. So he settles on a quick nod of his head before turning back to Reid, who looks just a little more shaken up than Aaron is comfortable with. Sooner rather than later they’ll have to give their statements; he’ll learn the rest of the details in due time. For now, there are other concerns. “Everyone from the compound is accounted for?”

“Torres said all but one,” Morgan says ruefully with a heaviness in his voice. “Nothing we could have done.”

Watching Emily limp toward the girl’s grieving mother is enough to make his stomach churn. It’s a minimal loss, but a loss nonetheless - one they were never going to win at all, and the rest of them avert their eyes as the woman wails in Emily’s arms. From over Mrs. Evanson’s shoulder, Aaron meets her gaze, not even bothering to hide the relief spreading on his face.

With the scene almost cleared and his standard level of gravitas fully returned, Aaron demands they be taken to the hospital. It’s the tone of his voice that tells them both not to argue; it’s not a request but an order. There’s a passing glance between Emily and Reid, one that tells him everything he needs to know - that whatever happened in that compound - the things he didn’t hear, is something they’ll always carry, some twisted bond between then. It’s a sobering reminder of how lucky they got, how different this could have turned out, one that keeps him all but silent as he follows the ambulances to the hospital. There’s still work to be done and calls to make - all of that can be done from the waiting room and on the flight home.

It’s the first time he’s been in a hospital since New York; it’s an experience he could have done without. Aaron is grateful it’s relatively quiet at 4:30 AM; luckily Emily and Reid are seen by doctors almost immediately. But there’s nothing quite like the eerie stillness of a hospital, with nothing but the occasional alarm or PA announcement for company, and he finds himself staring at his watch and then the clock on the wall with a frustrated sigh.

“It’s only been a half hour, Hotch” Morgan reminds him patiently without even looking up from the three day old newspaper in his hands. “It’s gonna be awhile.”

Morgan is right, he thinks, holding the pen in his hand a little tighter.

...

Almost two hours after she disappeared with the exhausted but kind nurse, Aaron cautiously pushes open the door of the exam room, not knowing what he’ll find. She’s perched uncomfortably on the rickety bed, all bandaged and stitched, the dirt cleaned off her face. Still, it doesn’t quite hide the damage; the blood still stains her clothes and the pungent odor of smoke still lingers in the air.

“Well?” He asks expectantly, resisting the urge to reach for the discharge papers that sit on the small tray next to the bed.

“A broken cheekbone, bruised eye, some bruised rib and some stitches.” Emily runs through the list of her injuries as if reading a grocery list or something equally casual. The wince on her face when she moves a little too quickly is her giveaway that it’s a bit more than that.

“Bruised?” He challenges with a lifted eyebrow. No fucking way.

“Fine,” she concedes, biting her bottom lip. “Two fractured. Several bruised. All sore.”

The look on his face must give him away, because she smiles warily, as if she doesn’t quite believe her own words. “It looks a lot worse than it is, Aaron.” She’s putting on a brave front he can see right through, no matter how much she tries to hide it.

“Bullshit,” Aaron snaps back, just a little too harshly. “If I knew -”

“I heard you almost took out the Colorado Attorney General.” Emily says under her breath, even though they’re out of earshot. “When did that happen?” She looks almost amused, and it feels like a distant memory after the endless drag of the previous hours.

“When he was threatening to obstruct a federal investigation.”

“Sounds like I missed a lot,” she quips with a slightly wry grin, one that emphasizes the swelling of her face. “You’ll have to fill me in.”

“I’d rather not,” he says, and for the first time since their rescue, he brushes his knuckles across a small stripe of untouched skin on her cheek.

“Not here, Aaron,” Emily’s face reddens. “Please.”

“I wanted to go in,” he says a little too quickly. “To get you both. I couldn’t … listening to what -“

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Emily picks at the seam of the bandage on her arm, effectively cutting him off. “That would have compromised the whole operation.”

“I know.” He doesn’t care.

She folds her arms stubbornly and looks away, as if disappointed by his confession, his lack of objectivity. He takes it as a cue to leave, turning on his heel with a scrape of his shoe. “I’ll go check on Reid. I’m … it’s … “ he searches for words but they don’t quite materialize.

“Me too,” Emily says quietly before falling silent.

There will be time for talking later.

...

He shows up at her hotel room door, and even though she’s expecting him (she has been for awhile now),and she almost laughs at the irony of how the tables have turned in just weeks. It sends an ache through her chest, one that she’ll soon be used to. According to the ER doctor, it’ll take weeks for her ribs to heal. Now she sees the full extent of the burden of the last few days - the slight droop of his shoulders, the shadow of exhaustion leaving a pallor on his face.

“What’s so funny?” Aaron snaps, his jaw clenched tightly as he pushes past her, closing the door on his way. “Two of my agents almost got killed today.”  He doesn’t remind her that she is one of the two.

Well, okay then, Emily thinks with a huff, taking note of the fact he’s still wearing his button down shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. How long has he been in these clothes?  “Did you show up to chastise me, Aaron, or is there a point?” She can’t hide the annoyance in her own voice. She’s just as cranky as he is, desperately in need of some food, and something tells her this hotel bed won’t be kind to her throbbing ribs.

He’s studying her, assessing the damage he can see, and what he can’t. “Show me,” he says, his voice simultaneously soft and firm. It’s not a request but not quite a demand, as if he’s not prepared to see what’s there. And yet, she knows he won’t leave until he gets what he came for.

“You already- “ she attempts.

“Emily.” This time his voice cracks just a little. “Please.”

With a soft sigh and roll of her eyes, she lifts the hem of the oversized shirt she’s wearing. It’s one of his - he notices for the first time - and peels away the wraps and bandages she’s acquired, like some kind of fucked up armor. Aaron takes it all in - every bruise, scrape, and stitch - each a reminder of his self-imposed culpability. His touch is gentle, overwhelmingly so, as he surveys each wound with defeat.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” His face is lined with unrelenting guilt, all consuming and real. “I shouldn’t have ever signed off on this. None of this would have happened.”

No, she thinks. “Look at me, Aaron” Emily says calmly, her voice steady with reason and logic as she shakes her head resoundingly. “I’m fine.” She pauses, running a hand through her hair. “Reid is fine too. It’ll take him a little while … to forgive himself,” she adds. “He blames himself. He shouldn’t, but he does.” Her assessment of him succinctly accurate, laced with compassion for him. She knows his mind like she knows her own. “But he got lucky today. We both did. You did all the right things. Sometimes … it just doesn’t go our way.”

“Hasn’t been going our way as of late , has it?”

He’s right. It’s been a shitty few months to say the least. Emily laughs softly, and when he wraps her into his embrace, carefully, she rests her weary head against his chest, it finally feels as if this whole miserable experience is over.

“There’s always tomorrow,” she says, voice muffled by his shirt. She doesn’t have to ask if he’s staying the night; it’s all but a given.

“When we get back,” Aaron murmurs, his chin tucked protectively over her head. “You still owe me that dinner you promised.”

She smiles even though he can’t see it. “Deal.”

Eat the Rich: Chapter 1

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt, with the dialogue prompt “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing, running around with the end of the world on her his arm?” in bold in this chapter.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, memory loss and recovery, brief mentions of Bucky’s Winter Soldier days, and canon-level violence. Lots of frustrated Avengers. A bit of flirting.

A/N: I can’t decide if I want this series to make people laugh or cry, so good luck. Please comment and reblog! 

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers​!

The Avengers are confused. Perplexed and far out of their depths, they’re strewed about the meeting room with variants of displeasure on their faces. Bucky wears the biggest scowl of all, sitting ramrod straight in an armchair intended for postures far more comfortable. The source of their malcontent hovers in a hologram above the conference table, somehow managing to look bored while handcuffed and bound to a steel chair in the most secure interrogation room in the Compound.

You’re a thief. A crook who has been stealing big money from bigger people, in a slew of prominent heists that eventually led to the Avengers’ recruitment to your case. High stakes burglary isn’t their field, but when certain people threw their weight around, demanding a serious investigation, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes had no choice but to play detectives to one elusive criminal.

A flirtatious one, too, Bucky thinks, remembering your first confrontation, as he traces the seams of his metal arm with the softer pads of his flesh fingers. 

Sam, Nat, and Bucky had tracked you all the way to Paris, where, one night, Sam gave chase while Bucky waited to intercept you on the predicted escape route, in an alley behind one of the classiest bars in town. Their prediction had proved accurate, and you had pretty much run straight into Bucky’s waiting arms. 

The ensuing fight should have been an easy one, and Bucky made the awful mistake -- the mistake he hadn’t made since meeting the Widows in the Red Room -- of underestimating a woman, and he ended up paying for it. 

His fists clench in his lap at the memory of how you had pulled a very Widow move on him, and he had wound up on his back with your thighs around his neck in a chokehold almost gentle. You had leaned over him to tie his hands together, and left him panting, out of breath, and with the taste of rust in his mouth. Clambering off, and wiping away the blood at the corner of his lip, you had then said, “I look forward to our rematch, handsome,” before disappearing into the dark, French night.

“Barnes?” He hears Stark call, and he blinks. “You still with us, or are you daydreaming about your girlfriend?” The room grows silent, and Bucky can sense suppressed smiles and silent glares, the latter aimed at Stark from Steve.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he grouses, letting his metal fingers dig into his kneecaps.

Sam, coffee abandoned on the table in front of him, eyes twinkling says, “We heard her through the coms, Barnes. In Paris, and in Buenos Aires.”

“And Oslo,” Peter pipes up, and Bucky falls back into the memory of autumn frost crunching under his feet, the reverberations of the orchestra in the opera house as he followed your coat-tails -- you played violin, because why the hell not -- down the busy street. Power-walking turned to running, and you had ended up in a crowded, posh bar with Bucky backing you into the wall in the hallway leading to the restrooms, holding your hands in one metal fist behind you.

Still, you had been unperturbed, trying to distract him with gemstone eyes while he called backup -- Stark, soaring in stealth mode above the fjord. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing, running around with the end of the world on his arm?” You had asked, gesturing toward his metal shoulder, no struggle, no flight or fight. 

Red-lipped smiles, you had given him, and he had been so close to pulling out the handcuffs until a trio of burly security guards had appeared, your backup, apparently, and engaged him in enough combat to allow you to escape. 

“She seems to like you,” Sam finishes piercing the haze of another battle lost, less violently at least, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like her,” is the best he can come up with, and he stands, moves towards a window overlooking the grounds, addressing the bulletproof glass, next. “What I would like is for us to get the money back so we can all go on our merry way and pretend this ever happened.”

The room falls quiet at that. Every person here is acutely aware of the fact that they’re no closer to getting the money back -- nobody could ever spend the amounts you’ve stolen recently, so quickly; FRIDAY’s run simulations on it -- and you haven’t budged under the interrogations you’ve faced thus far.

Barton enters the room as soon as he gets off the quinjet, still in his typical Bed Stuy uniform -- ripped jeans and purple t-shirt -- and Bucky, alongside Natasha and Sam in the observation room behind the one way glass, can see the angle he’s going with. 

It’s almost cliché, or maybe it’s just Clint, so relaxed and loose-limbed with too much pizza in his system and likely smelling of one-eyed dog -- Bucky adores Lucky, but he’ll never admit it -- the way he turns his chair around and sits, resting his chin on folded arms atop the back of the chair. 

For a moment, Bucky worries he’s fallen asleep right there, until his blond head lifts ever so slightly and he says, “Would you like something to drink?” 

You quirks a smile. “I’d like a proper introduction. What, were you raised in a barn?” The smirk is teasing, but there’s no bite, like you’re greeting an old friend with an inside joke. Barton traces the edge of the table.

“Almost. Ever heard of Waverly, Iowa?” He asks. 

You shake your head, and then, grin, informing, “No, but I have heard of you, Clint Barton.”

“So you didn’t need an introduction.”

“I’m a prankster, can’t you tell?” Bucky thinks of the navy blue dress in Prague, the tiny but powerful stink bombs you had kept in a thigh holster, how you had left them coughing. 

“Jokes are all well and good but, uh, stealing isn’t so funny,” Clint answers., sitting up, and Bucky can hear in his hardening tone that he’s starting to get serious. 

“Depends on who you’re stealing from,” is your flippant response.

“Also depends on who has to get the money back, too, and let me tell you, we’re a little tired of playing games.”

“Then I guess I win, right?”

“Are you sure you don’t recognize her? Her tactics seem familiar,” Sam says, and the sensation that has been aggravating the nerves in an unlocatable part of his brain since he saw her for the first time worsens, but Sam’s question is addressed to Nat.

“She’s not Red Room, if that’s what you mean. The Widows were trained to be merciless. She avoids getting more physical than she needs to,” Natasha answers, retying the band on her braid, flaming red hair coiled over her shoulder.

“She broke Bucky’s nose,” Steve points out in protest. 

Nat shrugs, leans forward to doodle on the notepad resting on her knee. “If it was me, I might have knocked some teeth out. Maybe pulled a knife or garrotte.”

“You have to tell me where you get those sting-y things,” you say the moment Nat enters the room, eyes sparkling and wide with awe. Bucky winces as he remembers the short-circuit from that little electric disc. The engineers in the bank had been pretty troubled by the thought of what could’ve caused that kind of damage to the internal systems, until he his fist around one of their necks gave them something else to worry ab--

Steve’s hand on his shoulder startles him back to the observation room instead of Hydra’s clutches, and he says, “Hey, Bucky, how’s it going?” with a nod to the room in front of them. Vibranium cuffs peek out from under the large, green hoodie that envelopes your form, making you look deceptively soft.

“She wants to know where Nat gets her taser discs.”

“You’re eager for those even after you’ve felt how much they hurt?” Nat asks calmly, and Bucky imagines an ice-cool smirk on her lips as she reminds you of how exactly you were captured. It was the tasers that brought you down, after Sam, Steve and Bucky flew and ran you to exhaustion through the streets of Algiers, costing Stark some collateral payments. He hadn’t minded too much, just been happy to have you in custody, finally.

“They look like they’d be fun to use. Pretty handy around certain metal armed men, too,” you suggest playfully.

“Yeah, he isn’t going to talk to you, but I’ve been looking forward to this chat of ours, so why don’t you start by telling me your name.”

“I don’t have one. I’m a ghost story,” you say, and Bucky assumes Nat is looking unimpressed, because you press forward with the joke. “You’re going to need a medium to talk to me.”

“And where do you suppose I find one of those?”

“You have one. Isn’t Bucky Barnes a ghost story, too?”

Sam’s about to name what is sure to be another way to cause unnecessary injury when Bucky butts in. “It doesn’t matter how she hurt me or how she could have hurt me,” this, with a glare at Natasha, who smiles down at the paper. “We have a burglar with billions stashed away and a buncha angry billionaires breathin’ down our necks to find it.”

“Well why don’t you give it a go if you think it’s so easy?” Looking up from the hangman sketch, Nat fixes emerald eyes on his, reminding him, once again, of the unusual interest you’ve taken in Bucky. One that started with mid-battle conversations of a different nature, and that has extended into custody. Something that’s been bugging Steve, his protective instinct whirring into overdrive -- Bucky sees his eye twitch from across the room at Nat’s remark -- no more so than during Steve’s turn to question the captive.

“You guys are all taking your turns playing Good Cop Bad Cop, but I haven’t seen Robocop yet. Why is that?”

“You left him tied up in Paris–”

“There’s an innuendo in there somewhere,” you sing-song, head tilting rhythmically from side to side. Bucky clenches his fists in the observation room.

“–so he isn’t much obliged to see you,” Steve finishes, bypassing your interruption.

Playful eyes with laser determination, unperturbed by locked rooms and handcuffs, focus on a spot just above Steve’s shoulder, almost looking through the glass, even though Bucky knows it’s just a mirror for you. “What a shame. I was hoping our little back alley tussle wouldn’t scare the big, bad White Wolf away.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Are you going to tell us where the money is or do you want formal charges and a jail cell?” He asks, shifting so he blocks your line of sight, folds his hands on the table, and broadens his shoulders, all-Captain and no-nonsense.

“Giving up on me so easy?”

“I wouldn’t call it easy, miss. We’ve been looking for months and tried just about everything to get you to cooperate.”

“Not everything.”

“She’s yawning,” Sam proclaims indignantly, glaring, shocked, at the hologram where indeed, the source of their troubles is yawning, like you could fall asleep, tied up and all. “Unbelievable.” He shakes his head, and Bucky stops a snort from escaping. He’s seen all kinds of interrogations, faced a fair few, too, and this woman is just warming up.

The ensuing discussion and debate continues for hours, until the sun sets behind the window Bucky’s standing by, and what silences them is the thump with which Clint puts his hearing aids on the table in front of him. Sam’s coffee wobbles dangerously, and everyone sighs as Clint wordlessly tells them to shut up. Murmurs of agreement to rest and get a fresh start tomorrow echo through the room, and Bucky catches Barton’s eye, and receives a wink. 

Later that night, in his room, Bucky knows he’s not going to get a minute of sleep. It’s just an intuition, something his very bones are telling him, and he sees no reason to dispute it. Under the throbbing ache in his head, there’s an itch in the grey matter of his mind, somewhere he can’t reach, and he twists and turns. The feeling is recognizable as the vexation inflicted when he’s on the verge of a memory, but those return either by dream or by sense these days.

Dreams are for the bad memories, the days of the Winter Soldier, his subconscious loosening whatever locks his mind placed to compartmentalize the pain, to stuff it all away. The nightmares, the terrible memories leave him shaking, but therapy helps. By a few percent, but when the load of pain is as heavy as his is, every small burden taken off his shoulder helps.

Sense brings back the time before Hydra, although it’s sometimes hard to believe there was one. Steve’s face buried in his shoulder, be careful, Buck; Romanian take out, his mother’s hands; faucet dripping, water running out; oranges exploding on his tongue, a month’s salary plus overtime from working at the docks for that sweet rush once a year. The Depression, the first war -- trench memory brought back by a rainy run in Central Park, the scent of muddy petrichor in the air -- snowfall in the Alps, Dugan’s cigar. His body remembers, and then shows his mind the way.

However, this, this infuriating personality that has him incensed and restless, she isn’t in his mind in any capacity, but Bucky thinks he knows her. Or that he might have, once. And he needs to know her, again, because he hates not knowing. The nightmares hurt, and the memories of what he’s lost do, as well, but not knowing, existing in the strange limbo between certainty and loss, it’s unbearable. If this woman knows him, if she’s another key to another past, another piece of him, he has to talk to her.

“FRIDAY?” He asks groggily, sitting up. 

The screen in the wall across from him blinks blue in acknowledgement, along with a “Yes, sir?”

“Is Steve up?” 

“Captain Rogers is awake and having a cup of coffee in the kitchen, Sergeant,” FRIDAY tells him, and Bucky curses at the idiocy of consuming caffeine at this hour of night -- whatever’s in that shit works even on the serum and that can’t be good -- replacing his sweatpants with jeans once more and heading out to find his friend.

Steve has his back to the entryway, deep in thought -- dumbass, anyone could sneak up on you like this -- when Bucky comes in and clears his throat. The mug in Steve’s hands looks comically small, and Bucky sits down across from him at the island, reaches forward to take it from him, and downs the remaining half.

It’s just one more testament to how disturbed Steve is -- as if the careless consumption of coffee at midnight wasn’t enough -- that he lets Bucky steal his coffee. Blue meets blue in the silver dusting of moonlight, and Steve tries to locate Bucky’s purpose in his eyes before asking him for it verbally. “What is it, Buck?” He’s tired, too many missions weighing on those eyelids, but too worked up to let them close, to find rest. What Bucky’s going to say won’t help.

“Let me talk to her.”

Spirit Falls {j.h}

One-shot request by @xo-sophiemae-xo 

Request: “Can I request an imagine with the Cullens where they go on a huge hike and eventually y/n gets too tired so someone has to carry her back and then just some fluff around the campfire please! (Preferably jasper or Emmett x reader) Thanks xx”

A/N: so spirit falls is a real place and that’s what i had in mind when writing this. also, this is way longer than i originally meant on making it, but i kinda got carried away. anyways, enjoy :)

“You brought bug spray, right?” You ask Rosalie, who sits in the passenger seat of Emmett’s Jeep. She holds up the bottle in response and you settle back into your seat. Jasper sits next to you, your hand in his as the Cullen crew zoom down the foggy Washington roads. The Jeep is followed by Edward’s Volvo, which hauls Edward, Bella, Carlisle, Esme, and Alice. One of the Cullen’s favorite past times was hiking, and you were adamant on them taking you. Jasper was reluctant, because they also had the tendency to hunt if the conditions were right. He didn’t want you to see that. In the end, it was Rosalie who convinced him to let you go, even if she was less than enthusiastic about you being alive when you first met. Now, she was your best friend.

Your heart races in anticipation to arrive at the destination, Esme had planned a whole day out. She packed a picnic for you, and you brought a book and an outdoor blanket just in case Jasper decided to hunt.

“I spy something red.” Emmett says. You look around outside the window, nothing red, just a whole lot of green. Inside the cab of the Jeep, no red either. Jasper wears all neutral colors, Emmett wears white and blue, and Rosalie made it very clear that Emmett was to exclude her from the ‘childish game.’ 

“I don’t see any red, I give up.” You sigh. The game had been going on for about thirty minutes already, yet you hadn’t gotten one yet. 

“You suck at this game.” Emmett says.

“That’s not fair! You see like triple the colors I see!” You complain. “Are we even close to being there?” 

“We’d be a whole lot closer if Jasper didn’t set a speed limit.” Rosalie says. Emmett gives an agreeing nod to her statement. 

“Humans are fragile, Rose.” Jasper says calmly. You roll your eyes, and lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Come on, Jazz, you’ll protect me.” You say, trying to convince him. 

“I can feel that you’re anxious already with how fast he’s going.” He says. You glare at him, folding your arms.

“Traitor.” You frown, but he smiles at you and brings your hand to his lips, placing a cool kiss to your skin. You pull his arm so that it hangs around your shoulder, and you nestle your head into his shoulder. Unfortunately, you don’t have a blanket in your reach so the hardness of his shoulder bone hurts your head. “You’re too hard.”

“Said no girl ever.” Emmett chimes in. Rosalie smacks him on the shoulder, and he whines out an ‘ow.’ You focus on Jasper’s breathing and soon enough your eyes flutter shut.

----------------

The slamming of car doors wake you. Jasper retracts his arm as you sit up straight, stretching your neck. You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit the Jeep, your feet hitting the mossy ground. You walk over to Bella, who’s talking to Alice. They look up as they hear you approach. 

“What’s the plan?” You ask them. 

“First we’re hiking to the waterfall, then when Esme and Carlisle go hunting, we’re going swimming.” Alice says, her eyes lit up with excitement. 

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” You say. Alice playfully rolls her eyes, placing a hand on your arm. 

“I brought one for you- and trust me, Jasper will love it.” She says with a wink. Her mischievous smile tells you that the swimsuit doesn’t cover much.

“Alice..” You groan. She throws her hand forward dismissively. 

“You’ll thank me later.” She says, walking away and leaving you with Bella. You sigh and take a look at the girl, who looks at you and chortles. 

“You should have seen what she packed for my honeymoon.” She says, her lips pulled into an amused smile. Before you have the chance to respond, Carlisle calls out to the group that it’s time to start the hike. You and Bella walk over to join them, and soon you’re walking along an uneven path. 

“Why did I talk you into letting me come?” You ask Jasper as you trip over yet another exposed root for what seems to be the hundredth time.

“It’ll be fun, just wait ‘till you feast your eyes on that waterfall.” He says, grabbing your arm gently to keep you from falling.

“I prefer this view.” You say, smiling at him. He looks away bashfully. Everyone had broken off into small sub-groups by now, Esme and Edward identifying birds, Rosalie and Alice were chatting, Carlisle was leading the group and reading from a map (even though he’s walked the trail a million times), and Bella and Emmett were racing to different landmarks while scouting ahead for any humans that would interfere with hunting. You and Jasper stayed at the back of the group, mainly because you were slower than everyone else. Beside you, Jasper looked deep in thought.

“Whatcha thinking about?” You ask, holding onto his hand. He doesn’t look at you, but ahead, and smiles.

“You feel very.. Content. It’s peaceful, being around you.” He says. You walk in silence for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

“It’s because of you, you know. You make me feel safe- and I feel alive around you.” You softly respond.

“I sure hope you feel alive, otherwise the blood I can hear pumping through your veins has some explainin’ to do.” He chuckles. 

“Oh, real funny. I’m trying to be sentimental here.” You playfully scold him. He kisses your hand, then turns to face you.

“My apologies, ma’am.” He says, his face split with a smile. You smack him on the arm and you both go back to walking in a comfortable silence. 

----

A few hours later, you can faintly hear the roar of a waterfall. You look to Jasper, your body buzzing with excitement.

“Oh, I can’t wait. Can’t we just run there?” You ask him. He sighs, looking around to see that everyone is occupied, then bends down and picks you up bridal style. You know the drill, so you tuck your head close to his chest and he takes off. You feel the wind whip your hair around, and you find comfort in Jasper’s tight arms that hold you to him. You smile, inhaling his fresh, woody scent as he runs effortlessly through the forest. When he stops, you open your eyes to find yourself at the top of the upper waterfall. He lets you down onto the mossy surface. He holds your waist to steady you as you look over the edge of the smaller waterfall, the turquoise water swirling mesmerizingly where it hits the surface of the pool. 

“Wow.” Is all you manage to say. The view takes your breath away, and a moment later, the rest of the Cullens appear behind you.

“This view never gets old.” Esme says. Bella watches it the same way you do, this being her first time seeing it also. A pang in your stomach, followed by an embarrassingly loud gurgle disrupts your serenity.

“Food time for the human.” Alice says, reaching for the stylish backpack latched to her shoulders. She pulls out the outdoor blanket, handing it to you as you spread it out in a patch of sunlight on the soft, mossy, forest floor. You sit down as Jasper hands you a water bottle and peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Bella goes to investigate the water with Edward while Rose and Emmett sit down on nearby stumps. 

“I saw some mountain lions a few miles north.” Carlisle says as he and Esme prepare to depart from the rest of the group. After they leave, the remaining Cullens (except Jasper) take off their clothes to expose the swimwear underneath. After finishing your sandwich, Alice hands you a swim top and bottoms for you to change into. You hold the black two piece to your chest as you hide behind a large rock, stripping off your clothes and underwear. After putting on the bikini bottoms, you try desperately to untangle the strappy top. 

“Alice!” You groan. After a second, you hear her approach you. You hold an arm to your chest while thrusting out the swim top. “I can’t figure this damn thing out.” 

After a while of configuring and arguing, you finally get the top on and wrap a towel around yourself. Looking up at the waterfall, you see Bella and Edward swimming in the water, and Rosalie pushing Emmett off the cliff. Alice jumps in after Rosalie. Jasper waits for you on the blanket, his bare chest sparkling in the sunlight. You approach him and he quickly stands, seeing the towel wrapped around your body. 

“Never let Alice pack me clothes again.” You say.

“Are you ready?” He asks. You don’t respond, you just take a breath and drop your towel, looking away as his eyes swiftly glance down at your exposed cleavage. He picks you up again, like earlier, and soon you’re at the top of the waterfall.

Looking down at the seemingly thousand foot drop, your stomach does flip flops. “Actually, you know what? You’re not supposed to swim thirty minutes after eating. So, I’m just gonna- woah, okay.” You’re cut off as Jasper dangles you over the edge, teasing you. You grip on to him tight, making him laugh more. “Not funny, Jazz. Put me down!” 

“It’s just a small drop, darling. I’ll keep you safe.” He says, a smile not leaving his face. You close your eyes and nestle your face in his smooth chest as he jumps, your senses overwhelmed by the sound of air whooshing past your ears and Emmett whooping and cheering. Your bodies hit icy water, stopping your heart and then jump-starting it again. You push away from Jasper as you propel your way to the surface, breaking through and wiping water from your face. Jasper surfaces a moment later, his hair wet and slicked back, and his skin sparkling. He looks so hot you almost forget that you’re mad. Almost. You shove water at him, trying to put on your best mean face.

“I’m gonna remember that. You- I- I’m so mad at you, you jerk!” You scold him. He can’t keep a straight face for long, because after your outburst, Emmett’s booming laugh fills the clearing.

“No you’re not.” Edward chimes in. You look to see that everyone has now swam to the shallow parts as Rosalie wrings out her hair and Alice and Bella lay back against the mossy rocks. 

“Can it, Cullen.” You glare. He laughs and retreats back to Bella as Jasper reaches his arms around your torso and leans in to press his lips to yours.

---

After about an hour of splashing around and jumping off cliffs, Esme and Carlisle return. Edward, Bella and Alice take off on their turn as you and the remaining Cullens return to the hiking path, the next destination being another small clearing with a fire pit.

“This place is so pretty.” You say, taking a deep breath and inhaling the mossy scent. Beside you, Jasper nods and takes a glance around.

“The game is good out here too.” He says. His eyes are black, letting you know that he’s hungry and it’s getting harder to be so close to you.

“I’m sure you can still catch up with Edward if you’re really thirsty, I’ll be fine.” You assure him.

“I’m okay. I’ll take off with Emmett and Rose when we get to the clearing.” He says. You nod in response and return talking with Carlisle about the history behind your destination. 

After forty-five minutes of walking, your feet start getting sore and your legs strain to keep up with the speedy vampires. 

“My legs hurt. Are we almost there?” You whine, tugging on Jasper’s arm like a three year old. 

“I told you this was going to be a difficult hike.” He says. You groan, trying to focus on anything but the stretching in your limbs. 

“Why would I be worried about a ‘difficult hike’ when I have a big, strong, vampire boyfriend to carry me when I get tired?” You say with pleading eyes. 

“Would you like me to carry you, y/n?” Jasper says, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint. 

“Please?” You smile. He kneels down and you climb onto his back, resting your head on his shoulder. “Ah, I feel better already.”

“Anything for you, darling.” He says. You kiss the side of his neck, earning a soft moan from him. 

“Hey, keep it PG back there, kids.” Emmett teases. You give him the finger and he feigns offence, but soon returns his attention back to Rosalie. You yawn as you lay your cheek against the soft fabric of Jasper’s shirt, forcing yourself to hum a song in order to not be lulled asleep by his rhythmic walking. 

A little while longer, you reach a clearing where pieces of wood sit piled up into a bonfire. After letting you off his back, Jasper reaches into his pocket and pulls out an old lighter. The wood lights up as you lay out the blanket and sit on the ground, leaning against a tree stump. Soon Edward returns with the girls, Jasper takes off with Rosalie and Emmett. Alice sits by you as everyone finds a good spot around the fire. Esme leans against Carlisle and Edward sits by Bella, their legs intertwined as she watches the fire and he watches her. 

Thirty minutes pass of Carlisle telling you about vampire history, when Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie return. Everyone’s eyes once again golden, putting you back at ease. Jasper lays down next to you, resting his head in your lap as you stroke his hair. He fiddles with the lighter, and with the small light from the fire, you can barely read the name “Jasper Whitlock” engraved in the shiny metal.

“Thanks for taking me here.” You say to him, enjoying seeing everyone in a different environment. He smiles and you lean down and kiss him, then sit back up and watch the warm glow of the fire as you comb your fingers through his soft hair. “It’s amazing- seeing something so beautiful with your own eyes.”

He smiles, staring up at you. “You are more beautiful than any waterfall, and I get to see you everyday. Imagine how amazing I feel.” 

“Oh, you’re such a cheeseball.” You chortle, pushing his shoulder. “But you’re my cheeseball, and I love you.”

He grins. “I love you too, darlin’.”

The Only One: A Mastermind!Nagito AU Story - PROLOGUE

Hello lovelies, I’ve posted a *lot* about my Mastermind!Nagito AU on tiktok (I’m @chisben there as well if you wanna check it out), and I rly wanna share it here so here’s the prologue! Special thanks to @servanthaji for helping out with the planning of this whole story in general!

(Content warning for mentions of bombs and bombings, swearing and crying.)

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JUNKO: Yep, that’s the day that it happened. The day everything started getting… pretty scary, if you ask me! I’m just glad you were outta town for that, and baby was home sick. That’s, like, the only reason she’s here today, too!

HAJIME: Wait, wait, slow down! What are you even talking about…?

JUNKO: Uhh, I’m getting to that? Besides, don’t you know that guy too? Nagito Komaeda?

HAJIME: Not really… I mean, I knew of him, but I was in the reserve course. I didn’t really talk to him or anything until I went to school that Monday, and… there was nobody there except him.

JUNKO: Oh, yea? Did he tell you anything?

HAJIME: Not really. After I got shot at and ran in the school, I asked him what the hell was going on, but it was like I wasn’t there either. He just changed the subject to hope over and over again, like I asked a totally different question, and eventually I just walked away. I still don’t know what he was doing there.

JUNKO: Then maybe he doesn’t want you to know, y’know? You’re so lucky you have me, then~!

(She smirks playfully. Hajime stares at her blankly and her face drops. She stares at a map with a pen in hand.)

JUNKO: Come ooon, I’m coping! This is pretty stressful for everyone, y’know, I use humor to forget about all this stupid shit.

HAJIME: Whatever… just… tell me what’s going on.

JUNKO: Well, what happened that day… that was the start of The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History… in my opinion. And that’s saying a lot, because this world is filled with despair! And, like, his whole class helped him do what he did to the country! No idea why that is, but we can all fill you in on the rest, I guess. Preeeety sure we were all there in some way, ‘cept my baby.

(She gestures to the entirety of Class 78 of Hopes Peak Academy, standing and sitting in the basement of the school, as well as Mikan Tsumiki, who has a timid smile on her face as Junko looks back at her. Hajimes face drops.) 

HAJIME: Wh… what?? That can’t be it, that can’t be what happened…! The whole class?? The whole country?!

JUNKO: Eeeyup! They evacuated the school by putting a bomb under their teachers desk, and apparently all around the school, and I have NO idea how that lady didn’t croak! Anyways, everyone had to leave, and… that’s basically all I know. They just repeated that ooover and ooover on the news, it made me sick!!

(She threw her pen at a tiny radio propped up on a few cardboard boxes.)

HAJIME: Wh… this doesn’t… but… but, I...

(Kyoko steps forward and faces Hajime.)

KYOKO: I have some more information on what happened that day. After we were trapped here in the basement, all we had was the radio to inform us of the true nature of what happened. This is what I wrote down from those broadcasts.

(She hands Hajime a folder that contains three sheets of paper, all three of them hand-written notes. He begins reading.)

KYOKO: The class of 77-B was, most likely, all apparently under some sort of drug-induced psychosis. Most witnesses reported that they were acting strangely or out of character before they planted the bombs, and their eyes were hazy and… 

HAJIME: ”swirled”, “mixed”, “terrifying”, “comforting”, “light and dark” ...none of these make any sense.

KYOKO: My thoughts exactly. This entire event is bizarre and without any logical reasoning behind it… if you’d only heard about it on the news. But I think Makoto and I know more than any news outlets.

HAJIME: How?

(She looks over her shoulder to Makoto, signaling him to stand up.)

MAKOTO: Well, about a month ago me and Kyoko were going to one of the computer rooms to print something, but it was kind of out of the way, so we didn’t expect him to be there. N-Nagito, I mean. We saw him talking to Chihiro, and, uhm… I didn’t hear that part.

(He looks up to Chihiro. They stand meekly and fold their arms.)

CHIHIRO: H-he had been asking me to collaborate with him on a personal project, but… I didn’t have any spare time, and I didn’t even know him that well! So I finally just told him no, and he left me alone for a day or two… but t-then…

(Tears form at the corners of their eyes.)

CHIHIRO: H-he told me that… he was gonna… destroy the sc-sc-school if I didn’t-!

(They cover their face, and Makoto reaches out to rub their shoulder.)

MAKOTO: It’s not your fault, Chihiro. It’s nobody's fault but his. B-but anyway, after we heard about that, we decided that we had to keep an eye on him, but… basically the next day is when the bombs went off.

HAJIME: Why didn’t you just… tell a teacher what he told Chihiro?

MAKOTO: In hindsight… yeah, that would’ve been the safest thing we could’ve done. But Kyoko thought that we couldn’t keep an eye on him if he was expelled for that, a-and he could have been doing anything at home, so we fo-

KYOKO: Makoto, please, don’t. I was a coward, and I didn’t trust anybody else to investigate the matter. This whole situation could have been de-escalated dramatically if I had told school faculty.

(Kiyotaka stands from his spot next to Mondo.)

TAKA: You DIDN’T inform a teacher, or the Headmaster?! Miss Kirigiri, the school faculty always knows what is best for us!!

MONDO: Yeaaaah, is that why they all jumped ship and fucked off to who-knows-where so we could fight like dogs in the basement?

AOI: Hey, they did what they could, okay?? They had to protect themselves like everyone else! We’re not any better by hiding in the basement.

MONDO: Where the fuck ELSE were we supposed to go?? Candy land?!

YASUHIRO: Hey hey hey, Chihiro was right to lead us here the day the bombs went off! But I hear ya, maybe we coulda moved out of Japan together or somethin’ instead of hiding in Japan!

TOKO: I-I see why you’ve had to retake this year as m-much as you did now, you dumbass! He could b-be expanding anywhere now!!

BYAKUYA: As much as I hate to agree with her, I do. Nowhere is truly safe, and for all we may know, we’re being actively searched for. It’s only a matter of time before we have to relocate.

SAYAKA: I-I can’t stay here another second!! 

CELESTIA: Oh, so do you two suggest that we run out into the streets and expose ourselves to the predators? Play Nagitos game of cat and mouse?

LEON: Hell NO, I’m not playing that freaks game! But if he’s got his little possie out there looking every which way for us, then we gotta at least try and delay it!

SAKURA: On the other hand, we don’t know what they might want from us, if anything, or how bad the situation has escalated since we decided to hide.

HIFUMI: We don’t even KNOW what’s out there w-waiting for us anymore?! There could be giant mutant spiders wanting to turn us into baby food by now! I’m staying right HERE.

YASUHIRO: ...okay, I’m officially lost. Are we moving or staying?

SAYAKA: Moving!!

BYAKUYA: If you all intend on surviving, then you’ll all relocate. If you intend on being brutally murdered, then by all means, feel free to stay for a bit longer.

LEON: What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?? 

MAKOTO: H-hey, everybody calm down!!

SAKURA: We cannot make a decision until we know more about the outside world. AOI: But isn’t it because of what we don’t know that we have to go out there by now?

SAYAKA: Maybe some of us could go and some of us could stay?

TOKO: W-what if that reveals the hiding spot f-f-for everybody else??

MIKAN: (wiping away tears and hiccupping) N-nooo!!

YASUHIRO: Then we all have to come to the same decision, then.

CELESTIA: Yes, good luck reaching a peaceful consensus during the middle of an apocalypse!

BYAKUYA: I never said that it had to be a peaceful decision. If needed, you will all follow me kicking and screaming so I don’t perish thanks to your idiocy.

MONDO: I’ll knock some idiocy into ya if you keep runnin’ your mouth like that!

TAKA: Remember to take deep stomach breaths, bro! I think we can all solve this by utilizing a popular vote!

HIFUMI: But wouldn’t whoever’s the most popular win anyway??

HAJIME: SHUT UP!!! EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!!!

(Everyone stops talking and stares at Hajime, who’s trembling and has his face in his hands.)

JUNKO: Daaaaaaamn, rookie’s kinda bold to be screaming at us like that, huh?

MAKOTO: Junko… you’re not helping. He’s obviously overwhelmed and you’re just teasing him.

JUNKO: C’mon, I’m nowhere near him! Hahah!

(Makoto sighs, sitting down next to Hajime on the floor. The rest of the students talk amongst themselves.)

MAKOTO: ...I’m sorry. I know you didn’t ask to be here, but… for what it’s worth, I’m glad that you’re still alive somehow.

HAJIME: … 

MAKOTO: You know… when Mukuro found you unconscious in that class, we all thought you were one of Nagitos’ friends. You seemed too peaceful in your sleep to have been running from anybody, or hiding from anything.

HAJIME: ...then why did you help me?

KYOKO: We thought we could get some information about the outside world. But apparently, you're just as lost as the rest of us.

MAKOTO: A-and because we didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Even if you were one of his people, we didn’t want you to just be out there. I’m glad that you weren’t, though… it feels nice to meet someone new again.

(Hajime lifts his face from his hands, palms and face covered in tears. He looks at Makoto with a faint smile.)

HAJIME: Yeah… feels nice.

☘️ TO BE CONTINUED☘️

wuthering heights

Lucy Boynton x Reader

synopsis: you say i killed you— haunt me, then.

warnings: allusions to homophobia

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i hate wuthering heights. that book was so dull that i nearly lost my mind. but... it has its moments. and so i’ve written this, inspired by a line from wuthering heights. @mazzell-ro​ , my fellow lucy stan, this is for you <3

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1847

It had all started when Miss Lucy Boynton had come to stay at Wuthering Heights, your place of residence.

Miss Boynton had come to visit your cousin, Joseph, who was an expert on some historical matter or another, one which she herself was studying. Joe collected photographs, and apparently housed in his collection one which Miss Boynton had been searching for.

The day the carriage had rattled up the drive, you had stood at the window and looked out over the moors, at the cold, the mist, and then— a light. The glint of golden hair in the flickering gas lamps mounted outdoors upon the brickface of the manor, a shimmer of diamond upon her throat, wide blue eyes staring into the darkness.

Your introduction to her had been all but non-existent, a smile and a short hello, before Joe had dragged her away to the office, to show her, finally, that which she had been searching for.

You’d followed them quietly, but then thought better of it as their enthusiastic discussion of the new steamship network reached you. Recent history was not your forté, and you were not about to let Miss Boynton’s first impression of you be that you couldn’t carry a conversation.

So, you’d spent weeks upon weeks admiring her from afar, as she and Joe pored over photographs and books, played the odd game of chess, took tea in the dining hall.

Sometimes, Miss Boynton would encourage you to join her and Joe, but you always shook your head, declined quietly but politely.

You liked to imagine that her face fell every time you neglected to take part in their company. Oh, if only her face had fallen, then you would have known that you had meant something to her.

But you chided yourself for being ridiculous— how could you mean anything to her when you avoided her at nearly any cost?

Thus, after nights of tossing and turning, you elected to accept her invitations.

Her laughter was crystalline, both in sound and in beauty, and made you think of windchimes. She was elegant, too, and you were awed by her sophistication, how she moved fluidly, like she was made of water, rippling and sparkling beneath the light.

There was rarely any light here, for the fog blotted out the sun, and all those who lived on the moors were prone to a seasonal sort of depression— of which you understood all too well.

But with her, Miss Lucy had brought the sun, and you found yourself more greatful for her presence with every day that passed.

Soon enough, you longed to spend time with her, without Joe tagging along, to admire her quirks and conversation on a more personal level. But you could not find the courage to ask her to spend time with you alone, for why should she? Why should she want to?

Still, it irked you when she left your presence, because you longed for her friendship, for her to turn that warm smile upon you and provide clarity with her blue eyes. She seemed well-learned of the world around her, and you wanted to share in that knowledge.

It was the day in the library that you realised the true nature of your longing.

Lucy had been drawing a connection between a series of historical events, using pins and string, as Joe read to her different dates to add to the map, providing her with coordinates every now and then. You’d never seen a police investigation take place, but you imagined that the paperwork might have looked something like this.

You almost asked, in jest, whether they were investigating a homicide, but then stopped yourself. You knew Joe’s sense of humour would have appreciated the remark, but you worried Miss Lucy might have been displeased by your amusement. She was always poised and orderly, and, when not in the company of yourself and Joe, spoke only when spoken to. She did not seem to be a stickler for rules, necessarily, but rather as though she simply did not care to share her opinions with people whom she was not well-acquainted with. She kept to herself, and in a way, that was admirable to you, because you knew many people who could not keep their opinions to themselves, and spouted them frequently without anyone having requested them.

So, in the library, you rested your chin on your palm, and your elbow on the armrest of an overstuffed armchair, staring into the flames of the fireplace as Joe and Lucy chattered on.

“No,” Lucy was saying. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“It is,” Joe insisted.

“No,” said Lucy. “Those coordinates would place the coalition formation at the same spot as the photograph of ______, which isn’t right. I know for a fact that nothing in the ledger overlaps.”

“Well, that would mean that this here number has is something other than a three, which cannot be true, because that is most certainly a three.”

Lucy had been leaning over the table in order to reach the coordinate, and your eyes glanced over her slim figure as she straightened up.

She placed her hands on her hips.

You wondered what it might be like to be the one to touch her there, to skim your hands down her sides until they reached her waist, crested the soft curve of her hips. Or perhaps to place a kiss to her delicate collarbone—

With a start that lost your elbow contact with the armrest, you came to a realisation: your admiration was not simply one of aesthetic appreciation, but one of romantic intention.

A weight settled in your chest.

Lucy’s voice brought you back from the abyss of imagination, and you flushed upon recalling that it was her you had been thinking about.

“No, Joseph!” she laughed, a hand rising to obscure her mouth. “That’s an eight, not a three. You do need spectacles, you do!”

Joe blinked, raised the paper to his face, lowered it again. “My god, I do,” he muttered, and Lucy laughed again, cast her eyes around the room for someone to join in her humour.

But other than Joe, there was only you, and so that was where her eyes fell.

She stopped laughing when her eyes fixed upon yours, which was really a shame, given how utterly lovely she was when she laughed. She was always lovely, yes, but the sparkle in her eye always grew with her amusement.

You were ashamed to say that you simply stared at her when she looked to you.

Her smile slowly faded as her gaze lingered, and, uncomfortable, you folded your hands in your lap. Your face burned.

She winked.

Your mouth fell open. Lucy only turned back to Joe.

Maybe you’d imagined it. Or misunderstood it.

You started leaving the places she haunted before Joe did, so that there was never an accidental chance of being alone with her. You didn’t know what you might say if such a thing were to occur.

You spent the next two weeks recalling and analysing the incident. But a wink was a wink, was it not? On some level or another, it was a mischievous gesture, intended to convey a secret between two people, like a confidence, like solidarity.

When you spent time in the library, you began to gaze at her, to see if she would do it again, but she never did.

But there were other things.

She would call you to the table with the map for no reason at all, to ask you if a length of string was linear enough, or to have you confirm the coordinates which your cousin apparently struggled to read. She would hold out her hands to you, and take yours when you came close enough to her. She’d point something out on the map, and, coincidentally, looking at it always required you lean closer to her. Having stood with her for a while, as Joe talked, she would loop her arm through yours, and you would seize up at her touch, until her trailing fingers placated you with soft tracings over your hand.

You always left the room with a frown.

It had begun to eat away at you, how casually affectionate she was. Perhaps she was just one of those people, those people who was frivolous with their intimacy, shared it amongst their acquaintances like boiled sweets. But you didn’t think so. Afterall, she rarely spoke to people she did not know, so why should she be affectionate with strangers?

It had to mean something.

It reached the point where your hands grew loose and trembling when she smiled at you, and when she entered or left a room, you held your breath, fearing that she would speak to you in those dulcet tones of hers, or even worse— fearing she would change her opinion of you, and begin to ignore you entirely.

Then came the fateful day in which you fell asleep by the fire, and were awoken by Lucy, who knelt in front of you, a hand resting lightly upon your knee as she spoke your name.

“Darling, it’s nearly midnight,” she said. “Joe and I have just finished, and I think it’s time you got to bed, anyway.”

Silently, you cursed the lateness of the night.

How could you have allowed yourself to fall asleep, to find yourself alone with her, despite all of your efforts to avoid being so?

Hastily, you went to rise from your chair.

But her hand had not left your knee.

“Lucy,” you said, and she blinked, as though she had not realised.

“Sorry,” she murmured, curling her fingers back into her palm as she stood.

You straightened your skirts, though they were not in need of straightening, your heart pounding heavily as you found Joe absent from the scene.

You made a beeline for the door, and were halfway through the lightless hallway when Lucy’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You bit your lip. You did not turn around.

“Yes?” you said stiffly.

You heard her sigh softly. “Sometimes, I get the most horrible feeling.”

She was silent, and you pursed your lips, looking down at your pointed shoes. “A horrible feeling?” you inquired, your voice more of a grumble than you had intended.

“Yes. I get the most horrible feeling, as though… As though you do not like me, or something. As though you detest me, that you cannot stand to be in my company, as though it would kill you to spend another moment with me.”

You said nothing.

“Y/N?” Lucy spoke again, and you swallowed, because from the volume of her voice, you could tell that she had drawn closer.

The fire crackled in the background, and you wondered dimly how long you had been asleep for.

In public company, such as when the neighbours came by, or people from town visited, it killed you to gaze at Lucy, because she could not return your lingering look without drawing suspicion. Of course, no one guessed at romantic affiliations between two women, because they only saw what they wanted to see. And by god, you knew that they thought your love a sin. However, it was still a risk to stare at her in the way you did.

But you loved her.

“You kill me,” you whispered, and turned.

She was standing right before you, had followed you into the hall. The fire was a backlight to her, and she burned at the edges of your vision, like staring into the sun. But she was ghostly pale in the darkness, and so she was not the sun, but the moon.

Slowly, she raised her hand until her fingers caressed your cheek, and you held your breath, frozen beneath her touch, though every inch of your skin seemed to burn.

Her lips parted as her eyes flicked to your mouth. “Then haunt me,” she murmured.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then in a breath, she kissed you.

Her hands were on your neck and her body was flush against yours, her fingers winding through the hair at the base of your head, her lips sound, her touch upon your skin as light as the brush of a willow tree.

You held her close with your arms around her waist, void of free-will as you melted into her, enraptured by the tenderness of her mouth, the softness of her skin, and the warmth of her.

In the dark, she was a flame, and you were the air in which she burned brighter, in which she flourished. The parting of her lips was intoxicating, and the feel of her fingers in your hair spilled heat through you, the burn of her touch far more powerful than the darkness which surrounded you both.

She ceased in her kiss, and brushed her nose against yours, her breath warming your skin.

You opened your eyes to find her glittering in the dim firelight which leaked from the library. And when she smiled gently, you found yourself suddenly grateful for the lateness of the night, for the blackness of the hall and the moors themselves.

These things were meant for the dark.

The Last Night Part XII

(Author’s Notes: Sup guys! I hope you had a fantastic Fourth of July (for the American readers) and celebrated safely. If you are not American, I hope you had a fantastic weekend! Thank you for your patience while I worked through some writer’s block. I think I’m getting back into a swing though. I started reading a book that is set in the Edwardian period and it has helped me find the dialect and voice that I started with. I’ve been reading a lot of contemporary literature as of late and I think it’s influenced my writing a little, which is fine, but I’m fighting to remain consistent. I’m working on a novel of my own and it’s also based in the Edwardian period, but in a fantasy world, and I’ve been struggling to stay in the same dialect with that too. Anyhoo... I’m rambling... here is part 12. I hope that you enjoy it. Please hit the like, reblog, leave me a comment to cry happily over, and follow along for updates. Be safe! Be kind! Stay healthy.)

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Part XII

The following morning, James was settled in a wing chair in the game room, nominally enthralled by a short collection of poetry by Keats. It’d been a comfort to read Keats’ poetry when he would be feeling out of sorts. Perhaps because his father insisted on reading it to him as a child before bed. It seemed even in his adolescent and young adulthood, after weeks of sleepless nights cramming for examinations, going through drills during the day, and shivering through countless patrols in the chilly streets of London, he always enjoyed dozing in the warmth of a well-made fire, with Keats’ heart bleeding through the pages of his collection.

This naturally led to his considering what Keats would do in a situation like his. As his mind wandered into his thoughts, he was aware of the scent of late-blooming climbing rose coming in the window on a puff of air and he noted that the scent might have prompted the thought and he wondered whether Matthew would still be Matthew if he smelled of diesel and boot polish instead of bay rum, and what Cordelia, who smelled of roses and lime blossom to him, would be doing at this time of the day if she weren’t lying in her sick bed.

A swift clatter of boots on the stairs heralded Matthew’s arrival, and he closed the book, without the relief he’d been searching for, for even Keats couldn’t keep his mind from wandering.

“The Silent Brothers have gone,” said Matthew, his tone composed with his usual preferred demeanor of bored indifference.

“Gone where?” asked James.

“Back to the Citadel, I’m assuming,” said Matthew. He tugged at his starched shirt collar, and James could see he was warm with sweat about the neck, as if he had run all the way here. “Brother Zachariah remains and another, but I cannot recall his name, they all look the same to me.”

“Any word on Cordelia or Alastair?”

“Unfortunately not and the adults want a word with us in the dining room post haste. I assume they want a detailed description of our knowledge concerning the events of the night.” Matthew slumped in the other wing chair and covered his face with his arm. “

“Well, that’s certainly a blow to my afternoon plans,” said James, keeping his tone light in the hope that he could convince his parents and friends that he was calm enough to stand outside the bedroom that Cordelia had been moved into. They moved her in the night while he slept and no one would tell him the location due to his sudden outbursts. “If the other Brothers have left, that’s surely a good sign that Cordelia and Alastair are healing and are no longer in need of their attention.”

“It’s possible,” said Matthew from under his sleeve. “My parents are here, as are Kit’s and Thomas’s.” He groaned and added, “Charles insisted on coming as well. My life is over.”

James cursed. “What does he want?”

“‘To get to the bottom of this most unfortunate disaster’,” said Matthew, “his words, not mine. He’ll insist on lecturing us about how insubordinate we’ve all been, and how, seeing as we are underage, we have no business going out after the Carstairs siblings without briefing the adults with the situation first. He’ll make me file his paperwork for a month.”

“You’re being a bit dramatic,” said James.

Even as James spoke he felt the hypocrisy of offering comfort instead of truth. But what truth could he speak to his parabatai? Remembering the whispered conversations between his own parents after James had returned from near death by demon poisoning, James knew with a sinking feeling that his own investigation towards his grandfather would need to be done in absolute secrecy.

“Charles has been wanting to get me behind a desk since we were children,” said Matthew. “My mother will surely not object now that Shadowhunters are being plucked from their carriages in the streets.”

“Well, lucky for Charles, you’ve the best penmanship of all of us,” said James.

“So glad to hear that your humor has returned,”groaned Matthew, hanging his head so that his face was hidden beneath the fall of his hair. “Even if it is at my expense.”

“Pull yourself together, Math,” said James. He stood and tugged the edges of his jacket down as if to reinforce his words. “It will not serve to allow the entire household to hear such agitation. We have faced our parent’s fury before, this will be no different, I’m sure.” There was a pause, and James gazed out the window to allow Matthew a moment to compose himself. While he envied Matthew’s free and easy, passionate nature, his capacity for intense friendships, he always felt squeamish in the face of Matthew’s occasional display of emotion. He was accustomed to his own emotional outburst and Matthew insisting on James to calm down.

“You are right, of course,” said Matthew at last. He pulled a large silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. “Good to see you back to your more rational nature.”

“Thank you,” said James, fully aware that Matthew did not altogether mean it as a compliment. It was hardly fair that Matthew should provoke him into a purse-lipped rigidity and then insult him for it, but James’s first concern was to protect his friend from his own self-indulgence. “Now why don’t we make a suitable plan?” he added. “I’ve learned long ago that it’s best to just nod in the presence of angered adults.”

Matthew nodded as if to show his ability to follow direction. “Perhaps we should share what we know about Belial.”

“I think not,” said James. “My parent’s have already made it quite clear that they don’t want us involved in the investigation any further. We will have to continue it without their knowing.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” said Matthew. “He nearly possessed you and tried to kill Cordelia twice.”

“Which is why we must continue the investigation on how to properly kill him because it can be sure that he will not stop until he has what he wants,” said James. “There has to be a way to kill him properly.”

“I hope it’s something obvious,” said Matthew, “like spritzing him with water or feeding him chocolate.”

A sound of voices in the hallway outside the game room was followed by a light knocking on the door and Thomas’s voice saying, “Of course I’ve forgotten the secret knock, it was far too complex to begin with.”

“They’re here to fetch us,” said Matthew urgently. James noticed that he did have a strange, pale look about his face, but perhaps, he thought, this was the properly deserved effect of too much rough cider.

“By the angel, it’s only Christopher and Thomas,” he said. “You and Thomas can look pale and interesting together. Of course, he’s only just lost his sister. Perhaps his situation will help your sense of perspective.”

“Your sarcasm lacks the delicacy that would render it amusing,” said Matthew. “But thank you for your reason. Your permanent frown always brings me to my senses.”

“I do not have a permanent frown,” said James. He took a brief look into the mirror over the mantle and consciously adjusted his features to a half smile, which only seemed to make him look as if he were in pain.

“Hello gentleman,” said Matthew,  “do come in. It’s mercifully clear of authority in here.”

Christopher and Thomas came through the door, and James found himself slightly relieved that they were alone. Both of them were neatly dressed in tweed trousers, buttoned up shirts with suspenders. Christophers glasses rested on the end of his nose while Thomas' shirt strained heavily around the illustrious girth of his arms. Neither of them seemed to wear any hint of the previous night’s grievances.

“Welcome,” he said. “Is it time then?”

“Just about,” said Thomas and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve only just arrived with mum and dad and only convinced Christopher’s parents to allow him to leave their side by promising that we were only going as far as to fetch the two of you.”

“It’s already begun,” Matthew blurted out. “Behold men, your last minutes of freedom.”

“What’s he on about?” asked Thomas.

“Pay him no mind,” said James. “He’s consumed with the notion that due to the events of the last few nights our parents are going to handcuff us to desks until we come of age.”

“My mother suggested it,” said Christopher, “but I think my father has made progress against the idea.”

“See,” said James, gesturing to Christopher. “If my aunt Cecily can be brought to sense then so will your parents. Let’s just do what they ask of us and resume our investigation without their knowledge.”

“So not much different from what we’ve been doing for the past seventeen years?” said Matthew, shooting James a look. James could only roll his eyes as Christopher and Thomas drifted to the two wing chairs, where they sat and continued, for some minutes, to turn over the circumstances of the secret Belial investigation in a low and urgent manner.

“Any word on Cordelia and Alastair?” asked James.

Thomas nose flared as he met James’s gaze with an expression of frankness. “No,” he said. “Not that I’ve heard.”

James leaned against the wall and felt an echo of the agony that he had felt the night before and had to quell an urge to run out of the room and demand that someone give him information on the state of his fiance, seeing as far as everyone knew they were still engaged.

“I overheard our mother’s talking,” said Christopher to Matthew. “Alastair woke for a moment last night and was able to communicate with the Silent Brothers, but he is instructed to rest without visitors so that the injuries to his brain can continue to heal.” Matthew grumbled something under his breath. “Cordelia has been placed into an induced coma that she is unable to wake up from on her own. When her injuries have had some time to heal they’ll attempt to wake her up. The good news however is that the cure for her demon poisoning has allowed the runes to take a more immediate effect so she is healing.”

Christopher offered James a reassuring smile, which he appreciated more than he could properly express.

“Forget being tied to a desk,” muttered Matthew. “My mother will probably request having me put into an induced coma instead.”

Tessa Gray sat in the plush velvet couch in the front drawing room with her legs crossed at the ankles and her husband’s hand gently pressed against her shoulder while he sipped brandy from a glass tumbler in his free hand. Aunt Cecily was seated in a wing chair beside the fire with her husband Gabriel a respectful six feet away from Will. Aunt Sophie sat at the other end of the couch with Tessa, her hand held softly in the clutches of Gideon, both of them still carrying the misery of the loss of their eldest daughter Barbara. Charlotte Fairchild stood behind her husband’s wheelchair and beside her eldest son Charles. James knocked on the door and went in followed by Matthew, Christopher, and Thomas.

“Gentlemen,” said Will. “I hope that you all slept well and are prepared for punishment and ridicule.”

“William,” warned Tessa. “We simply want you to recount your details from the night the Carstair’s were attacked.

Matthew shifted beside James.

It had only just occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Lucie since they arrived at the Institute with Cordelia and she wasn’t in the room now. “Where is Lucie? She would have more to tell than any of us would.”

“Lucie has already recounted her experience,” said Tessa, one eyebrow raised. “She’s resting now. It’s the four of you that we wish to speak to now.”

“We are enacting an investigation on this prince of hell Belial,” said Charles, as he moved forward into the center of the room. “If we’re to be successful in locating him and effectively killing him then we need all of the information that you have concerning him.”

“I’ve already told my parents everything that I know about Belial,” said James. Both Will and Tessa turned him a look. James exhaled and began his recount of his experiences with Belial.

“And you believe Belial to be the one to have taken Miss Carstairs?” asked Charles when James was finished.

“I never saw him myself,” said James. “That would be a question for Lucie.”

“She claimed not to have seen him either,” said Charles, removing a pocket watch and checking the time before slipping it back into his trousers. “She said that she found Cordelia in the fog badly injured. She said that she lost you, but once the fog rolled away, you appeared again. Is this not the truth?”

James wasn’t sure what would compel his sister to lie about the events of Cordelia’s rescue, but he had to assume that there was a good reason and one that he would explore later when he could speak to his sister himself.

“It’s the truth,” said James. “As I told you before Lucie disappeared into the fog and I ran after her. We lost each other for some time, and when the fog moved off, she was there again with Cordelia.”

Charles stroked his chin. “It’s been unanimously agreed upon that the four of you, including Lucie and Anna, will be restricted to local patrols during daylight hours and are to report in detail any and all demon activity. If you so choose to break your restrictions then your punishment will be as sever as I see warranted.”

“What exactly would you see warranted?” asked James.

“You’ll be sent to Alicante,” said Charles, his eyes marked on Matthew, “where you’ll remain until you come of age and if you continue to disobey direct orders then the punishment will be as severe as stripping you of your marks.”

“Charles,” Charlotte hissed from beside her husband. “We never mentioned—“

“It is for their own safety, mother,” said Charles, squaring his shoulders. “I do hope it doesn’t come to such extremes, but in this case, the safety of one is the safety of them all. I do hope this will encourage them to keep each other accountable.”

Though it pained James that these new founded restrictions would limit his personal research on finding a way to kill Belial, it did not discourage him in the least. In fact, he was even more excited about the prospect of an opportunity to infuriate Charles. If one of them were to be sent to Alicante, he was sure the rest would follow, and he couldn’t strip them all of their marks. What with Shadowhunters being down in numbers as it were. Charles tactics were classic: infiltrate fear into the army without ever enacting punishment. Not that Charles would ever find out if they were going against him. Charles was too busy building his castle out of sand to see what goes on around him.

“I think Charles has allowed power to go to his head,” said Will, under his breath. He’d been in something of high spirits since Jem had arrived at the Institute and been ordered to stay to help the Carstairs siblings mend. “Don’t fret, Jamie boy, if you are stripped of your marks, Coleridge lived a life of poverty and had to be sustained by charitable friends and he turned out fine.”

“William,” Tessa hissed. “Do be serious for a moment. Jamie, as much as we regret taking away your personal freedoms, it is of the utmost importance that you heed the restrictions put in place for you. Even if he is being a power hungry, conniving, son of a--”

“What your mother is trying to convey,” said Will, moving in front of her, “is that you should be careful and mindful of your action.”

“I could always become a postman like Trollope?” said James. “I’ll begin to work on my beard.”

Will bellowed and clapped James on the shoulder just as the doors to the drawing room were opened by the footman and in walked Brother Zachariah with Sona beside him. Her graying hair has come loose and spilled down her back in an array of perfect waves that mirrored the texture of her daughters. Her expression was somber; deep circles sat under her eyes and her lips were impossibly dry.

Her arm was entwined with Jem’s as they shuffled into the room.

James, followed by Tessa and Will, hurried across the room to meet them.

“Mrs. Carstairs is in need of some rest,” said Brother Zachariah. “She would like to request that James remain with Miss Cordelia while she is away.”

James took her free hand and offered it a reassuring squeeze.

“She is lost in there,” said Sona, her voice rough and weathered. “I can feel it. It helps if you read to her. Let her hear the sound of your voice so she has something to walk towards in all of that darkness.”

“I can show you to a room,” said Tessa, a note of emotion in her voice that she quickly cleared away.

“That would be lovely thank you,” said Sona and removed her arm from Jem’s for Tessa’s.

“Perhaps some light broth,” said Brother Zachariah. “She hasn’t eaten much and I worry for the child.”

Tessa nodded and led Sona from the room.

Brother Zachariah turned his attention to James. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better after some sleep,” said James. “I can go to Cordelia now if you wish.”

“She is having a bath,” said Jem, “but in the next hour. Prepare to make yourself comfortable, perhaps bring some literature. As Sona said before, it is of the utmost importance that you continue to speak to her, give her something to walk towards, or the Cordelia that you know can become lost in her thoughts forever.”

James' voice became bitter. “Why is she in a coma if it means she could become lost inside of her mind? Can’t you wake her up?”

“The injuries that she has sustained would be too terrible to be conscious during,” said Jem. “The body is able to heal much quicker if the mind is asleep to the pain.”

James drew himself into as stiff of a column as he could and clamped his teeth down on a small quiver of his jaw. He resolved himself in that moment to give Cordelia whatever she needed; if he had to read to her for days, weeks, even months then that was what he would do.

(Next update is going to be Sunday 7/12... maybe)

@brooklynislandgirl @tarnishedhalo​

{Tropes in the Wild West, part 2} {Cont from [x]

The Colton Brothers’ General Goods Store prided itself on quality. Buckets of nails able to pierce the hardest of wood. No finer tobacco this side of the state line. And their prices, well, the Colton Brothers considered them fair, considering a lack of competition within the town and the surrounding miles. Tabby held differing opinions while handing over a goodly sum of coins and receiving a meagre bag of pecans in return.

Above the saloon were lodgings for the women who worked there. Four apiece to each room, with simple wooden bunks wedged nose-to-tail against the walls. Three were still occupied when Tabby crept back in with expensive provisions in hand. Her bed lay pressed beneath the window, and when the nights were cool, she cursed the draft prone position. This, however, was morning and she used her access to ease one wooden shutter open before scattering a few pecans over the windowsill. Complaints often came from the other girls that she was encouraging rats to loiter. Tabby ignored them, convinced that something else entirely came to devour each last morsel before a new dawn broke.

“C’mon, Miss Tab. Dance with me.” Persistent as he was cheerful from the half-drunk bottle in his grip, Old Butch’s mottled red veins left spiderwebs over skin tanned by endless years beneath the sun. “They say them Indians have a dance that will make the rain fall.” He attempted a demonstration, the wild flailing reminiscent of desperate efforts to stamp out rogue sparks from a campfire.   

“Are we in India? I thought this was Texas.” After making her point with an arched brow, she softened, for Butch was a grizzled, yet harmless, widower stuck in his ways. “And the only result of you and me dancing would be stepping on toes for both of us.” It was a lie. In those younger years when she sold dances with lonely men for a dollar a spin, Tabby was all lightness and grace. She had stopped that route for coin though, now preferring to simply sell drinks and weave flowers like sunsets into her hair. 

Butch took the rejection in stride and melded into the group observing a raucous game of dice. The click-clack of boots announced another group of patrons arriving. Readying more bottles in preparation, Tabby ignored a flicker of chagrin which she could never entirely extinguish. It was foolish to wish for one particular man to come striding in, instead of an endless rotation of the local townsfolk. The sun was long set and Riley never visited after dark. 

A new day came. Then another, and another more. Gifted flowers wilted into loose petals, and the bag of pecans she continued to dole out over the windowsill was half spent. All anyone could talk of was the drought. Two grey clouds took shape in the sky, giving false hope before dissipating into familiar swathes of blue. Come evening, disappointment had turned folks waspish.  Two local cowboys chose to turn their emotions into a fist fight at the saloon, leaving blood on the floor and whiskey spilled everywhere else, including down Tabby’s skirt. 

Retiring to the rooms to change, Tabby was half-way dry when an unfamiliar item on her bedding caught her attention. A single envelope nestled upon her pillow, a firewheel bloom laying across atop it. She tucked the bloom behind one ear, smiling, before investigating further. Easing back the flap revealed a piece of paper folded once down the middle. Tabby pulled a lantern closer to  examine the words neatly inked upon the page. 

Meet me outside, behind the saloon, as soon as you can. AR.   

She was almost to the rear door before hesitation slowed Tabby’s eager step. It was the first time Riley had written her this way. The first surreptitious meeting he had requested. Hope warred with caution, curiosity weaving its way into the mix before Tabby made compromise with them all. Lantern in one hand and an iron poker stick appropriated from the fireplace in the other, she slid out to the rear of the building. Little existed there beyond dirt that rolled into patchy grassland, and one long rail for horses to be tied to when the street became overly crowded. 

The rail was where Tabby stopped, holding her light aloft to peer deeper into the shadows. “Riley?” A whisper carrying her fading confidence and growing certainty this was all some cruel prank. Her eyes had begun to adjust when a blinding pain exploded across the back of her head. The poker fell from limp hands, the lantern following soon after, with no witness other than a creature perched upon a windowsill, gnawing shards of nut between sharp, pointed teeth. 

Riley awoke with a start. Half upright in his bed, it took a blink and shedding of slumber to identify what had woken him from troubled dreams. Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Scratch. His first thought a bold rodent had chosen to skitter across the floorboard. Except his bedroom only stretched so far and unless the rat was engaged in an endless circuit, it should have finished its route already. Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Scratch. The sound growing more frenzied with each passing second. Pushing blankets free, he rose and stepped first onto his good leg, the other needing longer to gain mobility. With a hop and a drag, he tracked the noise to the window. Yanking open the shutters, Riley looked out, then down, where nothing sat except a smattering of half-eaten pecans.

Her cheek. Something was touching her cheek. Dry. Rough. Tabby blinked, winced, resurrected from her torpor with painful alacrity. The ground hard beneath her back and she rolled blindly, certain a snake was slithering over face. No reptile emerged but she did land on something softer. A rug. Fur that she could grip with her fingertips. Furnishings meant she must be inside. Shapes came into focus. A bed. A wooden table with two chairs tucked beneath the edges. Uneven wooden walls lit by an iron stove, the fire within burning so hot that sweat broke out upon Tabby’s brow. 

Hands took her by the arms. Pulled by a strength that defied normally, Tabby became dragged upright. She kicked wildly. Yelled obscenities no lady should be familiar with. Then her captor took form and panic froze a scream in her throat. The husk that had once been Old Butch rasped and wheezed, sucking on the air. More corpse than man, desiccated skin clinging to gaunt bone, his swollen tongue licked over flaking lips and fetid breath expelled into a hiss of words. “Dance with me, Tabitha.” 

The house began to blur as Butch swung her round and around. “Dance with me.” Acrid scent filled the air as her sleeves dissolved first, then flesh turning an angry pink where the monster trapped her into this deadly waltz. Worse than the desert at high noon mid-summer, the air grew too dry, stealing the beading sweat from Tabby’s skin and the moisture from her mouth. 

“Let me go,” she croaked out. 

“You heard the lady.” An explosion of gunfire and Butch’s skull cracked open, dust bursting from the seams instead of blood. Bony fingers released their captive, and strong, warm, human hands took their place, Riley scooping her into his arms. “I’ve got you, Tabs.” His promise the last thing she heard, and yellow rings in his eyes the last sight she saw, before sinking into unconsciousness once more.   

“How is she?” Riley made his inquiry from the safety of the hallway. Beth’s ministrations had required stripping Tabby down to the chemise and her brother remained averse to seeing women disrobed without their permission granted in advance. Drawing the sheet higher over their resting guest, Beth thought to answer in her natural tongue, then chose the language which grated familial nerves the least. There had been enough torment for one night.  

“Come see for yourself.” Beth lingered while Riley stepped inside. If the sight of Miss Tabby bothered him, wan and sleeping, Riley hid it from his sister. Still, when he dragged a wooden chair next to the bed, sitting down as if preparing for a long watch, Beth rested a soothing hand upon his shoulder. Mending bodies was her domain, and perhaps she preferred that burden, compared to the questions that would inevitably want answers once Tabby was awake. 

Leaving Riley to his vigil, Beth was of mind to return to the soft nest of her bedding. Light was yet to creep around the edges of their sealed windows, and she could regain a few hours of lost slumber before dawn began to break. There was only one matter to attend to first. In the kitchen, she rummaged around through cupboards until a glass jar packed with peppermint sticks revealed itself. Beth liberated one, paused, and then a second. 

She could not bring herself to throw open a shutter, not when night still gripped the lands, so instead Beth slid the confectioned treats through a gap beneath the front door. They had barely disappeared from sight when came the quick-snap crunching sound of sharp teeth finding their quarry. Clearly her impropriety for using the porch was forgiven. A relief, considering how fickle those creatures could be. A bowl of cream left upon the windowsill used to be the tradition. Now it was pecans and peppermint sticks.

If only other forces could be so easily appeased. Poor Old Butch. Beth spared a thought of pity for the man, and more for the lives that the drought was yet to claim.

How Not To - Ralph Anderson x Shifter!Reader 3 (The Outsider)

Finale to Halfway Home & Control GIF Credit: X X @wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ #mendotagsquad @crawlingmist​ @mendelskrull​ - for your special interest in this series

Author’s Note: I thought I’d be lucky to induct Ralph Anderson to Team 10K. I didn’t realise he would become the second longest fic on here...

I underestimated just how much I wanted to put them through for their finale. I just hope it’s satisfying. 🙊🙏🤞

Muscially this has always been a big song for me, it seems appropriate to use it here. How Not To - Dan & Shay

Eyes Closed - Halsey

Special shout out to Amanda for her GIF analysis! Couldn’t leave it at just one, though...!  😅

Disclaimer: The Outsider nothing to do with me / These shifters are my creation, but I am once again using Stephen King’s ideas as references / lyrics & gifs not mine

Premise: Ralph Anderson never wants to hear the word ‘Shapeshifter’ again. Apparently that seems inevitable, and Holly brings him a new case. But they need an Outsider to catch an Outsider. And there only seems like one option...  

Words: 15,330

Warnings: Swearing / just a whole bunch of angst/angsty fighting / sex (not smut)

⚠ Hurt / Angst Caution Warning (Not as bad as previous... but it’s there!) ⚠

_______

I can honestly understand why it's over I can go through the motions of walking away I can give you the key and take my things back I can find plenty things to fill my days

You're like second nature, baby, you're just like breathin' A melody that you hear and you can't forget The time goes by and I still need you Yeah, you worth the heartbreak and the regret

But I don't know how not to think about you When it's late at night and quiet And I know that I ought to be the one who is strong and just moves on But I’ll probably turn down your road, knock-knock on your door Fall back in your arms, wake up in the morning Hating myself for the way that I can't help the way I still want you I just don't know how not to, how not to, how not to I just don't know how not to, how not to, how not to

--- I, I know where to lay, I know what to say It's all the same And I, I know how to play I know this game, It's all the same

Would've gave it all for you, cared for you So tell me where I went wrong Would've trade it all for you, there for you So tell me how to move on They don't realize that I'm thinking about you It's nothing new, it's nothing new Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you But he'll never stay, they never do Now if I keep my eyes closed he feels just like you But you've been replaced I'm face to face with someone new 

---

If there was one call he never wanted, this one was it. Ralph could have sworn that when he said goodbye to Holly Gibney saying he’d like to work with her on a case again, he’d stated a normal one – and he absolutely did. Holly was great, once he’d got used to her. Once he’d kicked his ass into gear over the Frankie Peterson case and immersed himself into the supernatural side of things. When she called again and mentioned the word ‘shapeshifter’, once more Ralph was forced into silence. Preceded by ‘another’, of course, and Holly had to call his name multiple times before he found a voice to tell her he was listening. Now Ralph Anderson and Yune Sablo found themselves sitting back at Cherokee City PD as Holly stood in front of them: police board, evidence, photographs, markers to connect everything. Ralph’s heart sank completely; he didn’t need this again. He’d had enough of this for one lifetime, and unlike Shapeshifters he only had one lifetime. Holly had put together a good investigation; she’d been tracking this one for quite some time, and although it hadn’t stopped over in Cherokee City, it had been through here according to her research. Yet, even though Holly was able to track its movements, she was uncertain she could do much more without the help of the people who had been through this with her before. She was certain she could stop it, determined to, but after Tennessee she didn’t think she could do this alone. This shifter also seemed different to her than their first, it was only because of the patterns she recognised that Holly was even able to keep track of it at all – this one was being extremely careful. Still, none of these factors excused it from the fact that murders seemed to follow wherever it went – finishing it was the only option. And for that she needed Ralph with her, as he had been before. Holly paused her onslaught of information and turned back to them, glad they seemed to be following everything she said. When she asked if they were clear, both men nodded, causing Holly to smile… except she placed her hands together in front of her lips in thought; “If only there was some way to get inside the head of these things, then maybe we’d stand a better chance of catching one...” Ralph, who was still preoccupied with his own thoughts on Shapeshifters – for obviously he had many - raised his head slowly to her musings. Yune stood a little straighter where he was leaning against the desk and looked across to his companion – Ralph, feeling eyes on him, turned to Yune. “No-” “Ralph.” By the look on Yune’s face he wanted Ralph to at least listen to reason. For Ralph Anderson there wasn’t a reason on Earth he’d ever agree to such a senseless idea. “No. No we can’t-!” “She’s our best hope, maybe our only hope!” Yune at least had the decency to plead it. Ralph’s eyes only narrowed, and his voice was firm;  “I never wanna see her again.” Holly looked between them, clearly confused, “What?” Yune glanced across to her, just as baffled, hardly believing that Ralph wouldn’t have imparted that information; “Didn’t he tell you?!” “I said we broke up.” Was the flat reply from Ralph, the detective folded his arms, looking like he’d rather talk about anything else. Holly blinked a few times, quickly catching on, “Y/N-!? She- she’s a...?!” Ralph Anderson didn’t let her finish the sentence, teeth gritted; “Don’t even say it.” Before turning his rising anger at having to be reminded on Yune: “We don’t even know where she is - I let her go!” Yune folded his arms and crossed his legs, leaning slightly away from his friend; “And you’re thinking it’ll be hard to look her up!? We have the database – we’ll find her!” Ralph glared back; “She’s a shapeshifter-! What if she changed!? That’s as easy as...” He stalled, looking away again, clearly not in the mood to talk about it anymore. Yune had attempted many times to get Ralph to impart what he’d seen in that field in vain; and although he never told, Yune knew whatever it was haunted him. Instead, Yune turned his attention back to Holly, “It would take maybe a day to figure out where she is... if we go pick her up, two tops... do we have time?” She nodded, that was the only shot any of them had to stop this thing. It wasn’t like before; they would need a shifter to catch a shifter. Holly looked back to Ralph, voice firm, not to be argued with; “We need her.” Ralph was still staring at nothing, and shook his head slowly; “I’m not going. I can’t go...”

*****

The pure ecstasy was almost stifling. So high you could barely breathe. Being with a shifter was always like this; humans always loved softer – probably because love actually factored into it. Human guise or not, there was nothing about your feelings for each other that had anything to do with how you would tangle together under sheets. An urge, an instinct, a call to be answered.

Shimmers of silver in the darkness as your eyes glowed with a refusal to burn out. Elongated talons and razor-sharp teeth left deep scratches across your back, immobilising, painful bites to your neck. Females were bigger and stronger, and for you not to do him any real damage he had to hold you down. But those needles sinking into your skin and drawing up rivers of ink from your veins only hit you with a further shot of pleasure. He wasn’t the same species as you – but he was damn close in his true form. You always preferred sex like this; humans had nerve endings in places your race didn’t – a form of pleasure you were unable to replicate unless you presented as one. Also, having been loved on by one for four consecutive years (who also knew damn well what he was doing), it was unsurprising that you’d not want to go back to anything remotely animalistic. Still – you were unable to stop yourself from crying out as your race would. It was by no means pretty; nowhere near the same as whispering someone’s name breathlessly as you held them tight, the trail of their lips down your neck. It sounded like it belonged in the far-off wilderness of some ancient jungle – where it used to be heard frequently. A call answered by his own; not filling a starry summer night sky, but now a bedroom in a modern house, in some town that could not be further away from where you had been born and grown up. How times change - How your race had always underestimated the advancement of humans. But even with the way you were pinned now; with your blood running from at least three separate places, stuck in some ancient ritual, a biological need engrained in your race since millennia before you were born – the man you were with was not the one you were thinking of. Your eyes were closed, and all that flooded your head was Ralph Anderson. You could feel the way he held you, running his hands over your skin and paying attention to every detail. As a detective he never missed anything – that adorable little smile before he asked you if everything was okay. The feel of him inside your body; making love to your slow, steady, breathing your name carelessly – a whisper across your skin as he planted tender kisses instead of bite marks. Although sometimes Ralph would graze his teeth, even on accident, and you would shudder in the memory of something a lot more like this. If you concentrated hard enough on your human, your partner blended into him – and it was Ralph you could feel all over your body – even this rough. And you couldn’t keep him out, you wouldn’t keep him out. It surprised you that somewhere along the line you hadn’t tipped your head back to call his name instead. You missed him, more than anything – you missed having this with him. Ralph could care about you the way a shapeshifter never could. This was good, but it wouldn’t last. You were the only shapeshifter who stayed in one place. It might take a little while, but your partner would move on. For now you sated each other’s appetite; familiar company that you could truly be yourself around. You didn’t have to control your body; your own claws and teeth sinking into him as you tightened your embrace: you were in charge, and he would move as and when you wanted him to. That taste on your tongue, not quite metallic the way human blood was: of salt and earth, ancient minerals lost to time and space that no human technology would ever recognise. Damaging your partner as such was just another part of the act – it was expected, and your partner knew that he was damn lucky you didn’t kill him. Younger ones would suffer worse with you – even killed accidentally from too many fractures, broken bones, blood loss… Not him; with a name of ancient origin you thought he could have been older than you – but from a different part of the world.  

You squeezed your eyes shut again – on the edge of your, very human, climax. And Ralph was right back with you, the gentle sound of his voice coaxing you, hands laced with yours, how his kisses would swallow your groans as you struggled to hold back and the sweet way he would chuckle; ‘Baby… come on… just a little more… I got ya…’ Everything went cloudy for a moment, and Ralph flooded your senses heavier than before: it was his body and his weight, Ralph’s scent and his heartbeat flush with yours. His shiver as he unwound himself from that high that you couldn’t experience – not the way his human body would, but that fascinated you to watch, to feel. You withdrew your needle like teeth from the shoulder of your partner, running your tongue gently over the punctures to stop the flow of blood – you’d both heal quick. Another trait of your race. You slowed your breathing, silver eyes burning a little brighter, but Ralph’s ghost didn’t leave you this time. And before you knew it a single tear was sliding down your cheek. He didn’t see – this man would surely take his leave of you, even when you settled your head in the crook of his neck and pulled him closer, pretending this was anywhere near to what you had in Cherokee City. Yes, he’d leave – but Ralph Anderson never would. ***** Five Years Later… You raised your head from the morning paper – dumfounded. Once you’d got a good feel for people they were never really gone. Even if they’d never touched your soul – even if you’d never had their DNA flow through your veins, people still left a mark on you. This one you hadn’t felt in 5 years, and of all of them to turn up at your door, his wasn’t who you expected. You felt it long before his car pulled into the drive, but you let Yune Sablo step out of the vehicle before you opened your door, standing on the porch with your arms folded as he approached. There was a healthy silence between you as he kept his head bowed. Taking a deep breath before he raised his eyes to yours; there was a hard look on your face, it wasn’t welcoming. “What, is he too good to come and collect me himself!?” Yune immediately looked deflated, “You know I didn’t come here for Ralph.” You held your hand up, “No. Don’t – Don’t ruin it and say his name. What do you want?” “We need you.” Your arms folded and you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, eyebrows raised, “Uh huh.” “No really-!” Yune didn’t dare take even one step up your porch, he knew what you were. Even if he didn’t know what you were capable of, he’d seen enough from your fellow shapeshifters to not want to incur that from you – considering the displeasure on your face. “Y/N, there’s been a string of murders… Holly’s been putting it together and she came to Cherokee City for our help. But we need you.” “Holly?!” For a moment you seemed perplexed, your expression softened and Yune thought he might be able to sway you just by using her, but your eyes narrowed, “You told her?” “We had no choice. We need you. Don’t do it for him – do it for us. Do it for your race.” “Yune. It’s been 5 years, I’m DONE with Cherokee City. And I’m particularly done with its police department. What makes him think I want to see him again?” “I know it’s been 5 years. I think about that every day. That I could have prevented this, and if I’d just got to him quicker then he wouldn’t…” You let out a sigh, dropping your stance and relaxing, “Don’t beat yourself up over what Ralph Anderson did… I won’t let you do that to yourself. What do you need me for, you killed one before?” “Psychology. Getting inside its head. It’s trackable but… it’s careful. Much more careful than the last one.” You lowered your eyes, but nodded; “What makes you think I haven’t gone down that path myself? What makes you think I’m not gonna turn on all of you?” Yune shook his head; “I know you.” He did take that step, but hesitated as your eyes pierced his with an unnatural glimmer of silver. “If you care about us like I know you do, do it for us. Us.” He swallowed, “Y/N. You’re not a bad person. Or whatever you want to qualify yourself as. You can make a difference, and prove to us that you’re not all bad.” “I don’t have anything to prove.” This time when the silver shimmered to life it stayed, and Yune couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. He still had no idea what Ralph had done to you; he was starting to think maybe he should have pressed his friend before coming out here. You looked around at the other houses, suddenly glad that Yune was in his own car and not a marked one, “How did you find me anyway?” “Like I said, you’re a good person. You kept your name and you’re registered here. It’s not… too hard.” It wasn’t a warm smile by any means, but you flicked your head towards your front door – “Okay. Before I come with you, you best come inside – for one, I better pack.” Yune grinned, happy that you were seemingly accepting, that you would answer their plea: “And notify work, right!?” Once inside you packed quickly; not before making Yune a quick cup of coffee. Allowing him some time to unwind before he’d have to drive all the way back. As you packed, Yune sat with his coffee staring around your house. Minimalist. There were barely any photographs on walls, or pictures either. It hardly looked lived in; a shell of a house. Even the bathrooms held no trace of being used. But there was something else too, where there should have been a bathroom mirror, he was faced with nothing. And being inquisitive, Yune found that if the mirrors in this house were still in place, then they were turned around. He wondered if that was a question he could just ask. Yune supposed he wasn’t exactly sure what Shifter etiquette would be. You’d just have to tell him where that line was. Realising just how trapped you’d be with him in a car back to Cherokee City, you weren’t surprised that Yune wanted to try to get all his questions in. You didn’t seem reluctant; and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. Because you weren’t exactly happy either. “So, how’ve you been? What have you been doing? There, uh, anyone you need to tell you’re leaving?” “Uh, I’m an analyst. It’s okay, it’s a job and I get paid… I like where I live. And no, I’m not attached, which is also fine… What else is there to say?” “I guess I expected you to be upset but… you’re here. You’re just, gonna come.” “I’ll be damned if I let Ralph Anderson make me bitter and twisted.” You smiled, “The street I live on is entirely couples. I surrounded myself with love – as I always do. Now that is truly the only way for my race to live. I thrive on that kind of love.” If you could call what you were doing right now ‘thriving’. “I could have lived on his, but we all know what happened there.” “Do you miss him?” There was silence for a long time, and your face was stoic as you mulled your answer over, before it fell, and you started to look upset: “It’s not just about missing him, Yune. He’s a part of me – they all are. And I’ll carry them all for the rest of my life, every strand of DNA I’ve ever replicated. But Ralph… I let him deeper than anyone. It’s easy to collect DNA and just go off and use it, but he… Do you have any idea what it’s like to look in a mirror and hate every fibre of what you are? It’s not just me he hates – it’s what I am! I can’t get away from that even if I do wear another face.” “That explains the mirrors.” He said it before he even realised, and quickly added an embarrassed “Sorry.” “No. You’re right. I can’t… stand myself. But I can’t stay out of this form for very long. So, I have to face it… but it’s not easy. Ralph Anderson is torture. But he helps.” “You – shift into Ralph!?” “He never told you what happened in that field did he?” “No.” “Figures.” But you offered no more on the subject, turning to the window, and Yune wouldn’t press you either: “I drive his car, I wear his clothes, I can face him in a mirror and I even keep track of what he's up to. When I remember. He’ll never get out of my head, and I’ll never get over him. That’s what I’m learning to live with. And now he’s dragging me back. Do I have a choice in facing this? You already know I don’t, Yune.” He reached out and gently patted your hand, “I’m sorry.” You whipped around quickly at the feel of his hand on yours, and he caught that silver again: “I’m not afraid of you, Y/N. And I’ll get you back soon I promise. I won’t let him hurt you.” You could only nod, and barely smile. You understood Yune’s sentiments; but what he was promising was impossible. Just seeing Ralph Anderson again would be more painful than anything you’d faced. You returned your gaze slowly to the scenery and took a deep breath. You weren’t about to tell Yune that you were nervous, thoughts chasing themselves around your head. You were already being torn up by the prospect of seeing him again, and the longer you had to stay in Cherokee City the more torn you’d become. Get in, solve the case, get out. And it being that quick was your only hope… ***

Ralph Anderson would probably never admit it to anyone, but what he was feeling towards you wasn’t far off what you were feeling for him. Ever since he’d gone home from the ‘agreement’ he hadn’t been sleeping well. This morning Yune had simply sent him a text to let him know he was on his way to collect you. You still bore the same name and face – and Ralph wasn’t sure how he’d react when he saw you. Last night had been the worst; wrecked with dreams good and bad, and all of them about you. The worst, and one that had been reoccurring since you left, was the field – playing out exactly the same, except sometimes he’d pull that trigger – sometimes you would attack him and leave him to die – and sometimes he’d be back in that cave in Tennessee, but it’d be you he was facing. You wouldn’t leave him, and he was anxious. What would happen when he did see you again – would he be just as fearful as he was facing you before? Or would it turn to anger and hatred? He wasn’t sure he wanted to show that side of himself to his friends. Which made Ralph ponder exactly what you might be telling Yune. There’s two sides to every story though, and surely Yune would understand mine… He was nervous to see you too – because something else he’d realised, in the past 5 years, was that he couldn’t hate you. Of course, Ralph did hate you, but only because he couldn’t love you. How was that possible, after all you’d done? With what you were. It was still early but he was sitting at his desk and sipping straight bourbon. He’d need it, Ralph knew that much. He opened the top draw and was faced with a picture of you; pulling the frame out he stared at your face, wishing he felt nothing and only stopping when his eyes started to smart. It had only been recently that he’d cleared traces of you from the house. Yune shouldn’t have been surprised at the mirrors in your home because the pictures in Ralph’s told the same story, turned around or face down until he finally rid his residence of them. Your clothes were all in bags in the garage, but he’d never quite got around to his promise of burning them all. Ralph had been on dates but, he’d never found anyone else. He just classed himself as emotionally unavailable. But never had much trouble blaming you for this. Maybe he was just waiting for something he couldn’t have – and maybe Ralph was waiting on miracles. Although he’d never mention that either. As he strolled into the department that morning, Holly observed him with worry. Of course she was already up bright and early. Ralph slumped down in his chair with a sigh; and looked more tired than she’d ever seen him. Holly made coffee and set it in front of him without even asking. She felt Ralph probably needed more than that, but wasn’t about to encourage drinking when she needed them to focus. “You look like you didn’t sleep much.” “Yeah, well. It’s a big day, I’m not the best sleeper as it is these days.” She at least looked sympathetic as he gazed up at her to thank her for the coffee. “Are you ready for this?” Ralph nodded a few times slowly, before it quickly turned into a head shake; “I’ve never been more unprepared in my life.”

*** Ralph’s adrenaline and heartbeat spiked the second he heard your voice – but he could control it. Your sentences were cut and single words to answer Yune’s questions – but not unfriendly. The unmistakable sound of your footfall had him looking up as you both walked into the room. You stopped dead as your eyes caught his – as did your talking. You hadn’t changed one bit, you looked like you hadn’t even aged a day – frozen in time, just like the pictures, and memories that filled Ralph’s mind. Somehow that made everything hurt just that little bit more. Yune and Holly stood around like awkward third wheels; but, certainly aware of the hostile tension that had just engulfed the room. Your face didn’t really convey a lot of emotion, but your glare was heavy and it made Ralph shift uncomfortably in his seat. That movement undid all his hard work of keeping it together, and although he was still holding your gaze, he suddenly looked pathetic and guilty. It didn’t make you feel anything: As he should. You turned away from him, to Holly. “I believe you need me for your investigation.” Ralph immediately shuddered at the sound of your voice and found it hard not to vocalise something, even when you weren’t talking to him. “You want to get inside the mind of a shifter, you’ve got one. I will caution you before we begin, we aren’t all the same. So, lay it on me – what you want to know AND already know. Yune said there was a pattern, maybe I can determine what type this shifter is from that…” You took a breath, unable to keep yourself from smiling at her, “It’s good to see you again, Holly. Thank you for believing in me.” And Ralph knew that was an immediate shot at him. Holly instantly beamed, and the tension in the room dissipated, because you weren’t expecting it. The third human in the room was forgotten for a moment, and you let your icy façade melt. These two hadn’t done anything to you, at least not yet, so you had to behave amicably to prove a point. Not that you wouldn’t have – but in the presence of people who knew what you were, you at least knew you had to be careful. “It’s good to see you too, Y/N. I have to say this revelation is at least a little fascinating.” “Well… Anything I can do to prove we aren’t all like him. This seems to be getting a little ridiculous.” “You’re not wrong…” But she kept smiling as she studied you, “I mean, they’ve told me what they know…” she indicated to Ralph and Yune. “And you don’t appear to be like he was – you don’t shed, is that correct? You… uh… shimmer?” Your eyes gravitated to her coffee cup, “I can show you. If you want. The problem is your last one was a baby. If you start coming up against those much older it’ll just get harder. The patterns this one is leaving could just be a flashy show of confidence. Not mistakes.” “Show us?” Ralph shifted anxiously and you could feel his unease, turning your eyes on him: “You already know I can do you, what’s the point in that?” You indicated to Holly’s coffee cup, “If you’re finished with that… I can…” She tipped her head in thought, then decided to nod and handed it over, continuing her questioning as you inspected the rim of the cup. “You don’t need my blood?” “That’s the easiest way, and how we start off – then we graduate. Any form of DNA works fine and it doesn’t need to be consumed. But again, that depends how old you are.” You stopped twisting the cup and glanced back to Holly, “You’re SURE you want me to do this? I can’t get inside your head, I promise that. But I will feel your emotion.” She nodded, but questioned again, “What is that like?” “For me…” You gave a shrug, lifting the cup to your lips and running your tongue across the edge, “It’s all I know.” You placed it down and waited patiently for the DNA to code itself into you – “This’ll take a second-. But you put me in a café and you leave your cup behind. Bam. I have you on file for the rest of my life. Some would rather their long string of love affairs; one-night stands or kisses its all the same, some just like the taste of blood. I think the less interaction the better, personally.” You stretched, “You sure you’re ready for this?” Holly nodded, but you knew all of them were immediately more tense as you took a breath and shimmered – Ralph couldn’t help but be transfixed to watched the way your eyes lit that haunting silver as your body once more seemed to wash with pixels, before Holly stood face to face with herself. You blinked a few times, eyes still shining. “Sorry.” Holly and Yune jumped at her voice from your mouth, “The eyes always take a little longer than anything else.” “And you can just change back?!” “Mhm.” You gave a nod, “Give me a few minutes, it’s like going through a hard reset.” “Why are there so many different species? I mean he wasn’t like you… I met another and he wasn’t like you either…” “Evolution. We do the same thing in different ways. Species and genus, I guess. But practice. He took a month to change, it used to take me longer to change. I had to go through a middle step of reverting back to true form to switch humans. It’s not the most intuitive thing.” “True form?” “I said to Ralph before…” You paused for a minute as your DNA began to even out over Holly’s, “I’m much more traditionally monster than human. Think… animal, not… person. In fact, we’d fit a lot better in your animal kingdom than we would the way you live. Excuse me.” You held your hand up and shifted yourself back, “See. It’s THAT simple.” Holly tilted her head; “Could… you elaborate?” “Sure. I’m Quadrupedal, little bit more front heavy. Sharp teeth like needles, claws… I’m used to four digits. If we did stand up…  maybe 8ft tall, probably bigger. Females are the larger of the species. You seem to be getting lucky on that front. Males don’t tend to survive the mating process – think spiders.” “I’m starting to think it’s a good thing you look human.” Yune sounded more than a little faint. “Yeah well, humans went and hunted us down – so we had to adapt.” You nodded to Holly’s board, “What do you think you have? One like me? Worse?” “WORSE!?” Yune looked across to you. “Hun, I am by no means the oldest of my kind. There are worse out there than the type I am. There’s a kind that never evolved – think parasitic worms.” “W-WHAT!?” You smirked, “Yeah. Way worse. That’d kill me easy.” You shot Ralph a look, “Detective, sitting there thinking ‘shame’ isn’t exactly helpful.” Ralph looked perplexed for a minute, deer in headlights. “Just because I can’t hear your thoughts, doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re thinking.” You sat back on the desk as Holly went through her discoveries and you started to try to piece together the person she was describing. Which type they could be.  You could already offer suggestions: it was a strange set of patterns, and there were things they weren’t seeing because they weren’t shapeshifters. You liked that at least two people in the room seemed receptive and thankful for your presence on this. Holly brought up her video footage after that – the suspects looked slightly different in each but they all had the same movements, the same way of doing things. They weren’t trying to blend into the people they were copying, simply use them as a disguise. You were impressed she’d managed to get so far on body language. Yet there was something familiar about it that concerned you. Just how many of your kind had you been around in your life? Too many to recall and yet each one, just like the DNA you all collected, imprinted into your memory in a different way. This one was in your bank somewhere. It wasn’t what you wanted to realise. That unease certainly didn’t end as Holly continued to pull up pictures; and suddenly you became too alert, straightening and stiffening on the desk your nails gripped the table, eyes wide in shock. He’s not hiding anymore… Holly read this immediately; “You know him… don’t you?” You swallowed hard, realising all eyes were now on you. You did, of course you did. And he wasn’t someone you had to comb through your memories to find – he was right there; the man had just left you. “Better than I would care to say…” you nodded to her screen, “He’s not hiding. That’s his face. The equivalent of what I chose to present to you.” Then you shook your head, “SHIT!” After what you’d been through for nearly three years? Now you find this out?! It shouldn’t have bothered you, loving and leaving was what your race did. But this was worse than that. Ralph could read you like a book, and found that his jealousy and pain were blending together; “Oh, it hurts doesn’t it? When you find out the person you’re with isn’t what they seem.” You didn’t miss a beat: “What, don’t like what you see in the mirror?” Once again your detective didn’t have a comeback. “How recently?” “He left me 3 years ago. That’s nothing new, that’s how it works.” “What works?” You hesitated, but opted to continue: “Well, any ‘relationship’ really. We don’t… mate for life.” It was like air had just left the room, and you didn’t dare look at Ralph Anderson’s face. All you would see was anger and betrayal. “We were together a surprisingly long while, I suppose our cycles can be sensed. 27 years is a long time to wait for something like that.” Holly blinked a few times; “I didn’t think you could have… children. Every 27 years?” “Nothing to us. But I can assure you, we have children. At least my branch of our race can.” “So... you’re not sterile?” “Anything in your hospitals, honey, would say I was, even during the cycle. Males don’t have cycles but would still show as sterile in your readings.” “How many do you have?” Well, you’d come this far… ���Alive? I can’t tell you. 17 total.” Ralph did the quick calculation in his head. That made you 435 years old, minimum. On the assumption that every 27 years you did in fact bare children. And you looked like only the last 2 numbers of that. But it was bothering him; “How – how can you not know how many are alive!? You only just had one.” You sighed, turning to him – sure enough he was the spitting image of the man who’d pointed a gun at your head. Only now Ralph just looked like he wished he’d pulled the trigger. “What part of monster, or, animal don’t you understand?? We’re not humans, we present as human. There’s no 18 years and close relationships, Ralph. Once they’re ready to leave, they leave. When a bird can fly it leaves the nest. It’s exactly the same – you’re thinking too much about my body not my genetics.” Why was he still so pissed about the whole kids thing, anyway? Why did Ralph care either way about you and your race? You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes; “As you keep pointing out – Ralph Anderson – I’m not human.” You turned back to Holly, “His name is Aldric. And we have a problem here, his race is like mine – maybe a little worse and certainly faster. I might be bigger, but I’m almost certain he’s older than me.” Ralph scowled from his chair, folding his arms and crossing his legs: “Fucking perfect.” They continued their rounds of questions and you remained to help them work through patterns you could see that they couldn’t. But every time you saw Aldric’s face it jarred you – mating wasn’t the problem, that was a call you had to answer if possible. If their first shifter had been around you’d have still answered it; it was the fact that it had been a relationship, of sorts, first. And you didn’t form friendships with Shifters that did things like this – dead against killing for what it had cost your race in the past. Aldric had passed all your tests, a genuinely upstanding guy – you hadn’t sensed that he was hiding anything – so what had happened? It wasn’t a question you could answer, but one that you desperately needed to know. Nothing like having a second personal stake in all this… Having said that, every time Ralph said something pointed or facetious, you only ever responded cold and emotionlessly; shutting him down at every turn. You weren’t going to let him sit there pretending he was in the clear on this one. You were around the point of calling it quits, when they were all explaining to you where he’d been seen most recently. Currently it didn’t look like he was moving from that city – they all theorised that Aldric was choosing his next victim before he moved on. You couldn’t help but agree, even though you didn’t want to. The next few days would be vital. Although as they continued talking about next steps, you tipped your head and lost yourself in another thought. Was this going to involve killing Aldric? Was that what you wanted? Was it the only way? Could he be brought to justice… could a monster like you ever be brought to that kind of justice? Instead you voiced your question quietly; “Don’t you guys think you’re going to need a lawyer when this blows up?” They turned to each other, and it was obvious that none of them had considered a situation that didn’t end with a body. Yune frowned: “Well there’s always the DA?” Ralph immediately scoffed, “The DA is useless, I still don’t get how he won the election. I don’t trust him with half my shit.” “…Then who!?” Yune was clearly going to keep your spirits up, yet you weren’t under any illusions. Instead you got a bright idea of your own, Hayes: “I know just the guy.” Then it really was late, and you did all have to call it a night. Ralph was the first one to stand, and looked to you, “Well, you can come stay with me.” You looked at him like he was insane, and then laughed, “I’d rather sleep in the car. Or in a jail cell here, than go home with you.” That clearly stung, Ralph wasn’t expecting it. But you had enough doubts about this detective not to take him up on it. You didn’t want to be in that house, and certainly not with him. Ralph was making his feelings for you quite obvious and if the last five years had changed his stance, he might truly kill you this time. To stop the silence from being any more awkward, Yune stepped in, “It’s okay – you can stay with me. It’ll be fine.” “Oh…” You weren’t sure you expected that, “Thank you.” He nodded his ‘you’re welcome’, “If you’re ready we can go. Be back here bright and early.” You all said your goodbyes, but you paused at the door; “OH! Can I take the map? It might take me all night, but I’ll figure out where he’s likely hiding. Shifters are nothing if not habitual…” “Sure! Thank you, Y/N!” Holly once again beamed as you rolled the map up and smiled back, “No problem. Mutual goals and all that right?” “Mhm, Goodnight Y/N! Don’t stay up too late.” “I’ll try-!” You grinned, “Goodnight, Holly.” The obviousness of you not even acknowledging Ralph, let alone wishing him a goodnight, was not lost on him – you still didn’t care. With the map tucked under your arm, you followed Yune out to the elevators. “You still love her, don’t you?” Ralph’s eyes flicked to Holly, then back to your receding frame – talking to Yune, you seemed so much happier out of this room. Out of Ralph’s presence. The detective chewed his lip, deciding to let his expression answer for him. ***

After staying up most of the night pouring over the map and your laptop, you had a fair idea of where Aldric could be. After all, you knew him, right? At least you thought you did. You were starting to think that the revelations of your ex-partners were becoming a little too much. You left Yune’s house early – just about catching him as you were taking off out the door. Upon asking where you were going, and you announcing you were about to drag the ex-DA into this, he laughed. “Need a lift?” “No. I could use the walk.” “You know where you’re going?” “Mhm. I did the research; I’ll meet you all back at the precinct. Hopefully lawyer in tow.” “Alright, see you soon Y/N… OH!” You turned back at his gentle tug on your sleeve, “It’s good to see you again. I don’t know if I said yet. It’s just real good to have you back.” You let yourself beam, “Thanks Yune… I needed that.” The sign read K.W.S.Hayes and Partners – KWS? Well okay, Mr. Two-Middle-Names. You laughed to yourself as you walked through the front door. You were glad everything was still quiet; you could avoid a lot of people you knew and awkward questions that way. You didn’t even need an appointment. Well, not that you’d let someone who barely looked out of her twenties stop you, with your “I’m an old friend.” Kenneth Hayes jumped, and this time his papers did scatter everywhere. You watched them float to the floor, only wishing it was five years earlier, before your eyes met his again and you closed his door. “How the HELL did you-” “Old friends tends to get me places.” “Jesus, who let you back into Cherokee City?!” “I’m not in your office to do anything but get you on this case.” He hesitated, “What case?” “Surprise, surprise, there’s another of me out there and your PD want my help.” There was too long a pause and you knew that he was only pretending to be disinterested, “No thanks, isn’t that a DA role?” You folded your arms, “They left you in the dark last time. I won’t let them do it again. Besides, I hear the current DA isn’t so hot and I KNOW a good lawyer when I see one.” He squinted at you for a moment, then scoffed, very nearly disgusted. “Find someone else.” “Don’t misunderstand me, Hayes.” You took a step, eyes flashing. “I don’t just want you on this case, they need you on this case. And if I have to drag you across town to the PD kicking and screaming… well…” You indicated to yourself, knowing that would explain enough. Hayes swallowed, accepting his fate, “When do we start?” You smirked, “Oh baby, the fun has already begun!” As you might expect, and they probably expected to from their previous experience, there was a good network of caves on both sides of the city and scores of abandoned buildings grouped together - from what you’d been able to gather, also fairly overgrown. “But he’s older than you.” “It’s habitual.” At this point you were getting sick of Ralph questioning everything that came out of your mouth, and were sure the other three (now Hayes was up to speed) were sitting there internally groaning ‘ohhh my god, will you two quit it! We got a case to work on.’  “It’s not about the hiding to change, although it may be to do with not wanting to be disturbed. It’s about dragging your prey somewhere quiet. It’s about remaining inconspicuous and in the shadows. None of us grew up in cities and towns, the world simply changed around us. Places like naturally occurring caves are like our ancestral homes.” You tapped the map, “Abandoned shells of buildings are an alright substitute. We all adapted to this sure, but he’s actively killing – and that’s an instinct we evolved with. He’s thinking home. I know it.” You placed your balled fist against your mouth for a moment allowing for a pause for thought; “I can’t get you closer unless we’re actually there, but, once we are it’ll be more accurate. And I can pinpoint exactly where he’s staying – especially considering our history.” “Can he sense… you?” “Possibly. But I doubt he’d think twice about it. He wouldn’t know why I’m there…” Suddenly you found yourself getting disheartened: “I just don’t get it. It’s been the first time in a long while I’ve seen so many of us. Holly you’ve seen three, well four, of us now. How am I’m the only good one? It was never like this. They shouldn’t be the rule.” The silver shine on your eyes was dull as they smarted, and Yune put his hand over yours; “Maybe it’s because you’re the only one left alive old enough to remember the times when you weren’t oppressed. You said it yourself, you don’t know how old he is. Maybe everyone else has heard these stories and wants revenge. Wants to feed on our pain and suffering, because humans caused your entire race pain.” “But how can they not realise that LOVE... love is...” Holly reached for your other hand, understanding what Yune was trying to do; if they lost your help to delusion they would never get anywhere: “But you experienced that. Who’s to say they ever did?” Try as Holly might she was unable to keep her glance off Ralph, who gave Holly a similarly worried look. “But how can they not tell the difference?” “Closed off to it? Maybe they don’t recognise it... maybe pain is so strong that the sustainability of love is not worth it... it doesn’t register.” You took your hands back, not allowing a sob, but rubbing the tears away before they could flow down your cheeks. Too many people were suffering – you had all suffered too but, humans didn’t need to bear the sins of their ancestors. Was there no way to live in harmony? You found yourself crying, not only for your race, but for everyone who had to grieve because of it.

*** You all gave yourselves an hour to get ready, not that you weren’t already living out of a bag. The original idea was the four of you went down and confronted him, as they had done in Tennessee. That this time they’d keep Hayes completely in the loop. The lawyer was already clearly invested, which made you happy, as he shook his head: “I didn’t get involved last time on your decision. I’d quite like to be included this time on my own terms. I can see it through – then I’ll avoid any strange stories floating my way.” He was clearly referring to that Jack Hoskins lie, he nodded to you, “Besides. I trust her.” Your eyebrows raised at this but you bowed your head in thanks. 3 down, 1 to go. Of course he would be the most difficult. Yune let you sit quietly alone as he packed and before you knew it you were standing back in the precinct deciding on whose car was being taken. The final decision landed on Ralph’s and Yune’s, so you split your things and yourselves between the two cars. Obviously, the idea was to keep you and Ralph separate. He wasn’t so happy about that decision and ended up overruling everyone by force; arm out to pin you back against his car. “What are you-” “Nope.” “Ralph!” “They might trust you, but I certainly don’t. You’re coming with me.” His voice was low and left you glaring at him again, he nodded Holly towards Yune’s car but she was hesitant. You took a breath and moved her on instead. “It’s okay Holly, I’ll be okay.” She clearly wasn’t having that, and as Ralph kept you pinned there, you watched her whisper urgently to Yune; you could imagine that she wanted to make sure this car was in sight of theirs the whole time. You drew your eyes away from them and back to your ex-partner, “What, so you can finish what you started?” “Don’t flatter yourself. I swear to God, you even THINK of hurting them.” “Don’t you think I would have done it before now? What is wrong with you?! How can he change your opinion of me so easily?” “You lied to me!” “And you threatened to shoot me twice. You said it yourself Ralph, if you didn’t love me I’d be dead, so you can stop acting like I’M the threat here.” It was strange to be so close to him again, his DNA used to be a part of your everyday existence. By shifting into him so often – and being comfortable there – you’d kept that true. But now he was back this close to you, your body was giving you many different reactions. It was as repulsed by him as it wanted to pull him into you and never let him go. The confusion was not helping you keep control and you knew that silver was burning again by the way distress momentarily flickered over his features. Somehow the car ride wasn’t as tense as you imagined. You supposed there was so much you really had to say to each other, considering the passage of time. Yet neither of you knew how or where to begin; and both of you were guilty of something. For a long time there was silence, before Ralph took a calm breath and broke it. “Why did you come back?” You eyed him curiously, “You needed me. I assumed if you let Yune turn up on my doorstep at all, you were fine with it. I want to stop this as much as you do, even if you don’t believe that.” “You understand why I have trust issues with you, right?” “I think you must understand the same.” Ralph nodded: “As long as we’re on the same page.” There was another pause before he started again, “Five years is a long time to still hate someone.” “I don’t hate you, and I’m certainly not scared of you, but if you touch me I’m gonna throw a fit.” He nodded to the car in front, “Don’t think I haven’t seen Yune checking his mirrors every five seconds and the way Hayes always turns around. They’re watching out for ya.” You lowered your eyes to the floor, and spoke quieter, “I am not to blame for the sins of my race. I wish you’d been able to see past that. But every time you look at me, all I can see is how you feel about them. I’m the rule, Ralph. We’ve never been like this... I guess we’re all just angry.” “All. Including you.” “Understanding, of why humans rose up. We’re not Gods – even if we acted like it. Stories passed through generations; those so twisted by what happened. I get that – it hurt, to be hunted that way. But murdering humans doesn’t help anything. And killing you all now? Children with bad tempers don’t represent my race. And yet will become the poster children.” Ralph shifted in his seat, about as uncomfortably as you might expect, before turning his eyes on you. There really wasn’t a lot you had to ask, he understood what you were getting at. You turned away from him, rubbing your hands together, before moving the same motion to your wrists. It was too painful for him to think of you in handcuffs, so he took another breath and smiled. He was beginning to think that you were as wrong as you were right; no, you weren’t like them, but Ralph considered that you were the exception these days, not the rule. It was unfortunate that the group had dealt with so many bad ones. He was warming to you; it was going to take some time, but he knew he was. He wanted so badly to reach for you and tell you that. But he knew he couldn’t, Ralph Anderson swallowed fixing his eyes back on the road and the car in front just as Yune eyed him again. They didn’t trust him with you either and he had more than proved they had grounds. You should have known that the amicable atmosphere between you wouldn’t last. Your question was innocent enough, he knew you had ‘moved on’ – if that was even a thing your race did; you’d at least have classed yourself in something akin to a relationship with Aldric. He was the father of one of your children after all – but Ralph had kept quiet about his own love life. It’d been five whole years – he might have been older, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know how women looked at him; and with that face? You couldn’t blame them. “Are you single?” He blinked before he answered, slowly, “Yes.” “Huh.” Your mouth became a thin line, nearly a frown, “I’m surprised, I thought it’d be easy for you to move on. Surely all the girls are killing to date you now? Have you been with anyone?” Maybe he had and it hadn’t lasted – it’d been a long time. You were met with immediate hostility: “Well how can I trust anyone is who they say they are after you?!” Feeling that was pretty uncalled for, you shot back, “Don’t blame me for YOUR feelings. You know all the tells. You should have just gone ahead and dated!” Ralph glared at you, it was icy and threatening, causing you to back up against the car door; “Yeah well, I didn’t, did I? I didn’t just go off and fuck someone else. And have kids.” Your eyebrows knitted together in anger, “Screw you Ralph Anderson. You’re the one who said you never wanted to see me again. And I TOLD you, we can’t have children. What is your obsession with that-?! I’m surprised not to find you married with kids the amount you go on about it!!” “Well I’m not, am I?! I don’t just get to choose to do something like that! I accepted we couldn’t have kids, but that’s all bullshit anyway! All you ever did was lie!” “Don’t you put this on me!” You slammed your hand on the dashboard, turning your body fully to him; “WHY DOES IT ALWAYS COME BACK TO THIS, WHEN YOU TOLD ME YOU DIDN’T CARE!!” “Because you can have them!” “Once every 27 years Ralph! And you can’t treat them like human children. They would never stay. You can’t bend them to that, and they wouldn’t be… yours.” “I dunno, surrogacy? Adoption? We never even talked about it.” “Why didn’t you bring that up!? How easy do you think that would be? I don’t… die like you do. I’d live my life with you, and then when you passed on, I’d take a few years and disappear. And then start over. But there’s never going to be another you Ralph. They always warned me about humans, and they were right. But you were worth every fucking second until you tore it all up." “Are you saying this is MY fucking fault!? If you’re at least over 400 then how the hell did you ever think we’d work out?!” “I’d age up with you. It’s easy. Ralph, you never would have noticed. Without him all my little tells are ticks and tricks of the light.” “You bleed blue!” “Well that still took you four years and killing one of us.” Then you remembered, “Fuck, you nicked me, didn’t you? To check that I really was…” You placed your hands over your eyes, groaning, “Why didn’t you just ask?! You could have just asked. And calmly told me to get out… instead you pointed a gun to my head and threw me in a jail cell.” “Y/N-” “No. No.” You protested, “I’m fucking DONE Ralph. Don’t touch me, don’t even talk to me.” You rolled your body away from him and curled yourself up as best you could in the seat, closing your eyes. Hopefully sleep would come quick and would last the rest of the car ride. Hopefully it wouldn’t be plagued with bad dreams… You wouldn’t say that your dreaming was bad, just that your dreams were more content to feed you memories… This one of Aldric, of course. You understood why, perhaps most obviously because you couldn’t wrap your head around his sudden change. Aldric knew all about Ralph Anderson, you were only too happy to share your experiences with someone who understood them. Yet it wasn’t just because you’d told him, but because of your tendency to shift into Ralph: just to hear his voice, or see his face (albeit in a mirror), because you felt safe and comfortable in a body so familiar to you. Ralph looked – and was – a 6ft-odd tall, sure of himself man; no one was going to bother you when you were Ralph Anderson. It was a face Aldric got used to, but saw less and less of the longer he stayed. He counted that as progress, with his best smile. Aldric knew you still had bad days, where you’d lie on the bed and all the mirrors would turn around – humans had scarred you deep, and he didn’t like that much. Unlike everyone else, who would get angry and do something about it, you’d become a little more withdrawn; a mix of heart-break and self-hatred. He’d asked a thousand times ‘why always him’ and it wasn’t a question you could answer. ‘Why someone who caused you so much damage?’ The simple answer wasn’t one you could say out loud: that DNA coded into you was all you had left of him. The long answer would require you spilling to him all your feelings and details of your relationship that were yours to know – and would go unspoken to your grave. The best you could do was shrug; “Because I loved him. He’s just… familiar.” That was a lie too, there was no loved past tense about it. Even if Ralph had uttered that word himself. Aldric took your hand in his, with a gentle sigh: “Isn’t it amazing, over millions of years of our own race’s evolution and countless lifetimes, just how much one man has fucked you up? You’re hung up on one human and four years… in all that you’ve lived. Y/N…  I’m just sorry he did this. Though as if it isn’t something typically human.” He took a breath, gathering your body to his and stroking your hair; “Well. I’m here, for now… and I won’t let them hurt you again.” Aldric was always so nice and gentle with you and just as lovely to the humans you lived around – he never talked about having problems with them, so you doubted it was all a façade. It didn’t make any sense. How can THIS man now be murdering people…!? *** Ralph wasn’t the one who woke you up when you got to your destination, Hayes was. If he was trying to make up for anything, you would call him out on it – but he wasn’t. He was just trying to be a good man – whilst simultaneously checking that his friend was treating you right. You appreciated that they were worried, they didn’t have to care about you. Only that you’d help them solve this – and you would despite Ralph’s treatment of you. Or, in spite of it. In fact they always kept at least a body between you and Ralph, and you wondered exactly who they were protecting; him or you.

 It was late, but you had to strategize and figure out where he was. It wasn’t hard for you, Aldric was everywhere, so whilst the other three were trying to figure out the best and fastest way to hit him, Hayes drove you aimlessly around town. “Where you think he’ll be?” “He’s not in town – but it’s a recent move. I’m certain he based himself here.” “Will he be able to sense you?” “We’ll need a miracle…. My reason for being here could be anything. It’s the rest of you I’m worried about.” You were lying down in the back seat, trying to focus on the signals you could feel and almost taste in the air. That familiarity hurt now as much as Ralph’s did… You pushed your detective back for a minute, why won’t you stay in your godamn lane!, as Hayes took his rings around town further and further out, until you sat bolt upright. “STOP.” You were immediately on edge, too close and too soon. Like your head was spinning. “Woah, you okay!?” Hayes turned in his seat and it was plain to see the tension in your face and body, “Y/N? Is he here!?” You pointed to the map; “Are we leading anywhere?” “Uh…” He picked it up, “Yeah, there’s like an outcropping here…” Hayes jabbed it, “It looks like mountains though, and we are slightly inclining.” He handed it to you and you studied the map hard for a moment, before you traced your finger along what looked like a mountain ridge to one small black dot. “Here.” You turned to the lawyer and for once he didn’t even flinch as your eyes flickered bright silver – was that fear? “Do you have a pen?” “Yeah-!” Of course Hayes had one in his pocket, you put a ring around it and turned to him pushing the map into his chest. “He’s there.” *** Holly was the one in the car with you today, and she took your hand in hers. “You okay?” “No.” You had to be honest and she smiled, squeezing your hand, “Oh, sweetheart… This must be harder for you than anything else.” “What if I’ve always been wrong about my race?” You chewed the inside of your lip. “You’re better than we are, Y/N. Whether you’re the exception or the rule shouldn’t matter, should it, but how good you are. And after what you’ve seen from this particular community… that’s enough to twist anyone up. Yet here you are, still you.” You turned slowly to her, and couldn’t help but smile: “I could say the same for you.” She laughed, “I guess we both understand each other.” “An outsider knows an outsider.” You repeated a phrase of hers that had burned in you then, it held no less significance now. Holly squeezed your hand once more as you seemed to approach the cave entrance – your breath caught again and you tried not to let Aldric flood back: focusing just on Holly and smiling through it, “You got that right!” You slid out of the car with her, watching the guys all gear up just as fast. They would have to work quick and quiet if they were ever going to make it through this alive. You were glad everyone was wearing long sleeves: no one was taking chances. You nearly scoffed as you watched Hayes holster a pistol: “You know how to use that?” “I’m from Georgia, sweetie. Yeah, I do.” You laughed as if that had any merit to it, and Holly cleared her throat, holding a pistol out for you. You raised an eyebrow and grinned, shaking your head; “Honey, all my weapons are in built. I don’t need that.” Yune also sidled over, “And none of us want to see that in action.” “Pray you won’t need to.” “How is he?” “Quiet. If Aldric’s expecting anything he’s not tense, or angry, or frightened. I wouldn’t count on the element of surprise, just assume that he knows.” Ralph seemed to be taking an awful long time about this, and your eyes narrowed at his back, causing the others to turn to him. “Ralph?!” “Yeah, I- you guys go – We’ll bring up the rear.” “We?” “Yeah.” He pointed at you, “We. I want you at the back where I can see you.” “Why?” Although you knew it was a stupid question as soon as you said it and his face darkened, “Okay. Okay, we’ll do this your way.” Although you were loath to point out that if he was scared you were about to team up with Aldric, putting you at the back left the four of them trapped in the middle. It was more likely so Ralph could keep a gun trained on you at all times. You turned to the rest of them, “You guys go. Be careful, maybe two groups would be better, don’t do anything stupid.” They almost couldn’t believe you were agreeing with this, but nodded along – anything so as not to cause a huge argument right in the middle of the operation. They weren’t walking so fast though, clearly not wanting to completely split the group, you assumed that they would wait for you just inside the entrance. You crossed to him: “Is there gonna be a problem with you and me?” “No.” “Ralph you don’t have to lie to me.” “I told you, they might trust you, but I don’t. That’s all there is to it.” You leant against the car, looking dead in his eyes, “How do I know I can trust you?” “You don’t.” And he proved it; all too late did you realise that he’d been ready all along, and before you could stop him, your wrist was cuffed to the door handle. “RALPH!!!” “Shut up, or I really will finish what I started in that field.” He growled, hand over your mouth as you struggled. “You son of a BITCH-! They will DIE without me! What are you doing-!?” “We survived before, sweetheart.” His smile wasn’t friendly, so the pet name wasn’t either, “I don’t trust what you’ll do when you see him, I don’t trust you around him, or us. And I won’t see good people die again on account of YOUR race.” “Are you kidding?! I thought we were getting somewhere, but here come your true fucking colours again!” You pulled against the handcuffs, “Ralph! Let me go!” “No. You’re gonna stay here until we get back. And if we don’t get back, you’re gonna die here.” “What the fuck is your problem!?” He raised an eyebrow, and you realised it was another stupid question. “RALPH!” but he turned and started walking, “Shit! RALPH!!!” You tugged again, foot up against the car, to no avail and the cuff dug in. You rolled your sleeve back, wrist already showing a friction line. “You fucking asshole!” You turned back to watch him walk into the distance, “Are you SO stupid as to kill everyone on account of me-!?” When Ralph reached the group of three waiting just inside the caves, they all peered around for you and simultaneously took a deep breath to give him hell. He held a finger to his lips – knowing that what was waiting for them was far more dangerous. They didn’t need to announce their arrival any more than necessary. “I don’t trust her. Would you? We’ve seen what one of them can do, you think we can handle two of them? I don’t think we can risk it.” And the look on Ralph’s face said no protesting. “Where is she?!” Yune hissed, surprisingly looking the most pissed. Considering he’d tried to do right by you twice before Ralph had decided to screw it up. “Safe. But most certainly in handcuffs, now are we moving or what?!” They all looked to each other before begrudgingly moving on into the caves together, but Yune paused before he allowed Ralph to go any further. “You’re a fucking idiot. You know that?” “I’m doing this for the good of everyone.” Yune rolled his eyes, and muttered something in Spanish that Ralph assumed wasn’t good. “You ever think about her?! Even once?” Ralph gave him a look that shut the conversation down completely. But it couldn’t have juxtaposed the situation more; and his outward attitude was fooling everyone nicely. Of course he had; he was doing it to protect you. *** Focusing on them and their wellbeing became increasingly hard for three reasons. Ralph and your bond wasn’t the strongest, even though you had his DNA in your vein’s – as the group of four traversed deeper you started to lose him. Aldric’s own feelings were giving you unease – pretty sure that he knew you were here, if he hadn’t already he’d become aware of the presence of four human’s soon; without you protecting them you were sure it would become a massacre. And finally, you were trying to concentrate on breaking the cuffs – or the car door, whichever buckled first. Preferably the cuffs though, because hopefully you’d get to drive out of this. You had more strength than a human in you, but all that was helping with was the metal digging deep into your skin; ink blue already ran from your wrist and spotted all over the ground. If you did all die here forensics would have a field day with that. The change happened instantaneously. Aldric’s calm aura became hostile, forcing you to gasp and wheel back to the cave entrance: Guys! Why didn’t Ralph think about this? Aldric was leaving a string of murders, did they really think he would care about 4 bodies in the middle of nowhere. What about your presence; this wasn’t going to end well no matter what way you looked at it. And Ralph - Aldric knew everything about Ralph, if he attacked them your detective would be shown no mercy. You turned back to your handcuffs; “SHIT!” crying in both frustration and the pain of the cut. There was no other way to save them but by shifting completely; reverting back into the real monster they thought you were. To save them you would do anything. To save him- You closed your eyes and breathed deep, inhale, exhale; your eyes reopened to blurred and burning silver reflected back at you, human skin dissipating into something rougher and grey; elongated fingers splicing from five to four digits – this was the first time DNA separation had caused you to feel so dysmorphic. You knew the look you’d see on his face; if he rejected you now…well, hadn’t Ralph already? The metal snapped without you needing to pull as your wrists expanded – body filling out to complete mass. You stepped back, hands down; quadrupedal, and turned towards the cave entrance, sure of yourself enough to sprint towards it. They needed you NOW – or they weren’t leaving this alive. ***

Four beams of light swept in concentric patterns across the floor, walls and ceiling of the cave. It seemed darker and colder than the one they’d confronted the Outsider in. But pretty – patterns in rock cut and smoothed from millenniums of ancient water ways – the paths weren’t narrow though; it didn’t feel half as claustrophobic. There must have been openings they couldn’t see, as the air smelled clean and fresh, and every so often a soft draft would catch them from the depths of the cave. The majority of the time the four remained quiet; and Ralph assured himself that every time one of them shivered it was the cold – and not fear that he was sure all felt. The occasional verbal communication was to check everyone was close; and to agree on which direction to take – it wasn’t hard, Aldric wasn’t trying to cover his tracks. Ralph supposed he didn’t expect to be followed, or he had the confidence to know if he was found he’d just as easily kill those that stumbled on him. But three of them had come across his kind before and lived; the fourth was at least clued up. Ralph Anderson didn’t plan on dying here either. After about half an hour of careful searching they entered a larger cavernous area, much like a room, and all of them froze. To one end was a semi-circular collection of lights; all in the same UV soft white spectrum. Near to those was a heap of blankets, bundled together in organised chaos; but they were within a ring of piled up silt and dirt that covered the floor. Ralph swept his torch but saw no evidence of bones which would suggest food, hunting, more murders – you had said you didn’t need to eat; you could survive on feelings. The Outsider had and you had announced grief as unsustainable… yet Aldric was perhaps different. Able to sustain himself on something else. Aldric also wasn’t ‘a baby…’ Ralph received the feeling that he was being watched all too late, and a cold tremor ran over his body. From one of the darker corners of the room came the sound of shifting rocks, and an animalistic growl. All of them whirled around, torches gathered on two eyes – iridescent silver. “Shit-!” Ralph was the one to voice what they were all feeling as they backed up; all four of them clicked their safety’s off. “This isn’t good right?”  Hayes’ comment was unhelpful, but it was Holly that came back with; “We’ve done this before. We can do it again.” Yune was the only one to glance down; “Uh, guys!” Ralph let the others call attention to whatever he’d found, he was way more concerned with training his gun on this man. Holly and Hayes did, and then gave each other the same look; the prints in the dirt were not feet or shoes, as they had been elsewhere in this cave, but four clawed and elongated. They were in more trouble than they’d realised. As Aldric stepped into the light of both their torches and the semi-circular arrangement, all Ralph could think was someone had smoothed down and elongated the limbs of a blue-grey crocodile. In this form he stood a little higher off the ground than that – and those razor-sharp teeth and talons told the whole story. He was maybe Ralph-and-a-half should he feel the need to stand on two legs; and it was already apparent by the way Aldric moved across the floor that he was deadly fast. Even though the four of them were getting pushed up into the wall, Ralph kept in front; if Aldric came for them he’d sacrifice himself so they could get a good shot or a head start out of here, whatever it took. Aldric growled again, this time as his mouth opened Ralph noticed those needle like teeth had more than one row and the only thing he could think was ‘this is how I die’. Only Aldric did draw himself up onto two legs; ‘Oh no, this is much worse!’ “Do we think guns will work in here!?” Yune was trying to focus on not making his hands shake. “Hell, maybe we’ll at least bury it under rubble!!” Holly’s voice appeared calmer than Ralph would guess she was. Both of them holding up better than the lawyer, whose face was white and Ralph was thinking Hayes regretted his demands to come along. The shifter wound up, muscles in his back legs poised to spring; Ralph’s finger moved from discipline position to his trigger, swallowing hard. They could get through this, they could… even if only three of them made it out alive. This time the creature roared, echo loud, Hayes took a further step back and connected with sharp rock. Nowhere to go. Aldric sprang. The blur of blue and grey was joined by another call. This one different to the one Aldric was emitting: like no known animal on earth. Blood – or assumedly blood – spattered across the ground as Aldric reeled back from the force of the bulkier shape. Larger, spine far more defined down the slope of its back, and not ending in a tail like Aldric did. It turned, face fairly flat, skull round, just as reptilian with the same ghostly silver, needle teeth jutting out at angles and barely containable. Compared to Aldric this creature was much better proportioned, and the power as it launched itself at him again made Ralph glad that wasn’t what they were facing. Claws ripping through Aldric’s arm once more, before the force of its leap had it skittering off in the direction of the lights. “There’s TWO of them now!?” Hayes had finally found a voice, but Yune was smiling; “Of course there’s two of them!” Ralph didn’t understand why it hadn’t clicked with him before and he turned to Yune almost in shock; “Y/N!?” By the time they all turned back, in place of the creature was something a lot more human; panting, balancing gracefully on one hand as you pushed yourself to standing. Brushing your hair back from your face, eyes still that silver, you dusted yourself off, looking to the darker spot you’d pushed Aldric to. Although no one else in the room had eyes good enough to pierce that darkness, you did, and if he went for them again you would step in. Your wrists still ached, and as you shook them out blood cascaded to the floor; what you really wished you were was self-healing. The human laugh emitted from the dark corner had the group looking from you to him and Aldric stepped out of the shadows. Picture perfect as the day he left; the man on the CCTV Holly had identified. “Y/N… I suppose I should have guessed that.” “I don’t see why. After all, I’d never have guessed you’d be out here murdering humans.” “Don’t you preach to me about their race.” Aldric stretched out, placing a hand over his arm; “Man. That smarts; you’re a little sharper than I remember.” You glared, stalking around him so you ended up in front of your friends. …ex-friends. “Why?” “I got tired of the injustices they get away with, that they’ve always got away with because of us. It was time to stand up.” You planted your feet firmly in front of them, stance strong but wide – showing him you could cover all angles. You weren’t sure you were about to accept that as an excuse; you knew the pain he was talking about and you’d never gone there. Aldric merely scoffed; “Really? You would defend them after what they did to you-!? After what this particular man did to you-?!” You held your nerve, not rising to the bait. Ralph Anderson felt four pairs of eyes on him and at least two of them held a degree of hatred, he shuffled uncomfortably for a second, glad he couldn’t see your face. You opted instead for: “I thought I KNEW you-!!! You’re killing people-!? That makes you no better than the shifter that caused all this-!! For godsake Aldric, we have a child!” You stopped yourself from going any further, eyes pulling from his face momentarily as you frowned; what a human thing to say. Aldric wouldn’t give his angle up, and smirked pointedly: “Oh, we all have our weaknesses, darling.” Your eyes widened, for a second your silver was shot with red at the blind anger that overtook you. You hated him for that, for insinuating that Ralph was yours… the problem was Aldric was right, and he knew it. You were defending the man that had intended to kill you, twice, over the one that had cared for you – maybe even loved you for almost as many years. Ralph would never understand you even if he tried and Aldric was the only one who did… Yet here you were, because you just could not let Detective Anderson go. And you would rather die than lose him. “I want real answers Aldric. Even you must know that there’s only two ways this ends.” “As long as both end with him dead, I’ll take my chances.” Jealousy?! Was that it? After all this time…? Aldric looked like he regretted saying it and cleared his throat, “Don’t you ever get tired, Y/N? Of defending everything they do? It’s not just us, it’s the world, every creature will be driven to extinction by the end of this, just like they tried to do to us. With what consequence? We kill a few of them and we’re the ones that end up hunted to our demise in caves.” “It’s murder.” You knew that feeling, you’d felt it many a time but you had never let it consume you, and Aldric had finally let all his hatred take over. “It’s justice. It’s less than they deserve. And I know you see that.” “If we let you go, you’ll just do it again.” “Well then you have a choice to make, Y/N, because I’ll start with your detective’s friends, just so he can watch, and then I’ll end with him. And if I have to go through you, then I’ll make sure you get to see me kill him. Don’t worry, I’ll go slow – make a spectacle. But really I’d rather you didn’t make me kill a member of my own race.” “Stop it.” “You think I won’t go through with this!?” His talons were already elongating and you swallowed hard – there was no choice, you were standing here because you’d already made it. “Y/N…” Holly tried once, but you shook your head. “Go.” “What?!” “All of you get out of here.” You too entered that between transition: not human, not monster. “Y/N, We’re not leaving you.” Yune didn’t seem like the type to make such a stupid comment, but here he was. “If you don’t leave, you will get caught up in this and you will die. I’m not prepared to take any kind of risk. GO!” Now your voice fluctuated into more of a growl. “As soon as I’m done with you, I’m dragging your detective back here screaming and begging for his life.” Aldric’s eyes were hard. He was glaring through you at Ralph, who was urging the others to leave, and quickly. “You’re not going to fucking touch him.” You heard them shuffle away, catching them in your peripheral, Ralph last. He stilled for a minute and turned back to catch your eye. You gave him five seconds of satisfaction and locked with him – Ralph opened his mouth; you had no idea what to say. If it would even be of consequence, if it would be what you so desperately wanted. Or just good luck, will you be okay, do you want help, do you need this gun? Whatever it was neither of you had time for, and you gave a slight shake of your head. This time his face changed, not stoic, not mad at you, but startlingly apologetic. I’m sorry - two words he’d never got to say, before Ralph backed up, and faded into darkness. You turned back to Aldric, who had been privy to the whole exchange. “Un-fucking-belivable. You still love him.” “You said it yourself, we all have our weaknesses.” You couldn’t deny it. Aldric sneered: “I mean it, when I have you close enough to death to be immobilised, I’ll kill the other three – perhaps even mercifully. Then I will drag his body back in here and it will give me no greater pleasure than to gut him in front of you.” Then he smiled, and it was frightening, wild, one you might expect out of such a killer. “Heck, maybe I’ll even eat this one.” It was the last thing he said before you saw red, and lunged for him. ***

Once outside the group of four weren’t about to admit how in over their heads they were. Scrambling to set up behind cars, weapons trained on the cave entrance. “That was crazy.” Holly was the only one who thought about talking, “You think the one in Tennessee could do that!?” “Maybe…” Yune’s arm twinged at the thought of that particular shootout; “But clearly a lot slower… Ralph!” Detective Anderson by this time was back by his own car; handcuffs in bits, but the blue that covered the floor had him more concerned, and he shifted the dirt around to cover it up. “I’m coming-! Just let me get rid of her DNA…” The other three exchanged looks; now he cares? Or did he always care? Ralph pulled open his trunk and gathered spare guns, before settling with them behind the car. “How long do you think it’ll take?” “We have no way of knowing. They looked so different… But I’m thinking those scratches she gave him were nothing more than grazes. Warnings…” Holly mused, hand over her heart – it was beating far too fast, “It could be a while.” “Maybe we’ll lose both.” Yune’s muse was sad, and he hoped against hope that wouldn’t happen. He still wasn’t prepared to count you amongst them, even when you were one. Hayes’ eyes had hardly left the cave mouth; “Have we considered what happens if the wrong one makes it?” “Give it hell.” Ralph voice nearly shook with anger, and Holly and Yune once again raised eyebrows. Seemed Ralph Anderson wasn’t about to hide his feelings anymore. “…We can’t let it get out of here.” “Especially not if it’s killed her, right?” Yune looked across to him, almost smirking. Ralph didn’t verbally respond, but the nod was enough. It wasn’t long before they were met with a shuffling sound, and the scattering of rocks as they were kicked out of the way by tired feet. “That’s two legs, right?” “With the echo it’s hard to tell.” Holly and Yune listened harder; half minded to throw the safety on. But they both knew that your race could be tricksy; there was no way they could risk that move. “It sounds hurt.” Hayes’ mouth pressed into a thin line, “Let’s just hope we want to help it!” Sure enough eventually it was you that hobbled into view; though in the state you were in it really could have been anyone. Covered in red and blue blood from head to foot you were clutching your right arm, which seemed to be hanging fairly uselessly by your side, and you were certainly limping. Honestly, between the four of them it was hard to tell who was the most overjoyed – despite the initial reaction of horror at your presentation, they were all grateful to see you standing there. The way you felt could not be more different. There wasn’t a part of you that didn’t hurt, physically and emotionally. At this point there probably wasn’t much of you that wasn’t bleeding. And despite the fact that walking back to the entrance all you could think was ‘He had it coming. He brought it upon himself. He’d kill your friends if you’d have let him go. He’d have done WORSE’. You still lamented at having to kill yet another shapeshifter just to protect them. They were good people, and he was a murderer that much was true; but it was affecting you deeply. Aldric and you had created a life together – and your heart was broken. Yet another one of an ancient species struck from existence – maybe you were all too dangerous to be kept alive… Even when you were trying to do good. Your eyes were still shining in silver, but part of that could have been accented by the blur of tears. Ralph Anderson had never felt like a bigger fucking idiot.  For a moment you had never looked more stunning or beautiful, even though you were injured, limping, covered in blood and still seemed like a threat – more than one shifter tell still in play. Therefore Ralph was the first one to move from behind the car, running across the path to you. The movement itself spiked your adrenaline, body throwing you into a defensive stance as he slowed to a stop beside you. Your eyes were hard and cold: somehow you were also scarier than any time he’d previously seen you like this. The power in you to still be standing right now; how many years and lives you’d lived to be here right now, with him. Just human. Flesh and blood and bone and nothing all that special compared to what was in front of him. You’d given him your heart and he’d never really returned it. Ralph got the feeling you’d never wanted it back. You stood for a few seconds, feeling like far longer, staring at each other. It felt like you were between saying something snarky to him, or half expecting him to shoot one of his many you’re not human phrases at you. He wanted to, of course he did, but not for any reason you’d think. Instead neither happened, and Ralph grabbed you, one hand into your hair and one on the small of your back, his lips crashed onto yours. You made one small noise of surprise and complaint, before you pushed through the pain; closing your eyes and letting tears run. Just about able to tangle your left hand in his jacket as he supported your body. The (arguably) best four years of your life flooded your head immediately. It had been so long that his kiss felt foreign, even though it was so familiar. How many times had you relived this… wished for this in your head? Granted, this was never exactly how it happened – but then in your wildest dreams you weren’t sure you’d ever expected it to happen. Ralph didn’t care that there was blood all over you, that all he could taste was metallic, a little too much iron, flavours he’d never tasted in his life – he’d attribute that to your non-human DNA – he needed that kiss. YOU needed that kiss. He loved you. He loved you so much, he always had. It had prevented him from pulling the trigger twice – but it was also why he had so much anger and felt so much heartbreak. Why he was so glad that you were here right now. He broke the kiss slow and delicate, so as not to hurt you anymore, but didn’t exactly pull back; his forehead against yours as you opened your eyes. Ralph was crying, and you knew why, you knew exactly where this was going and you’d let him say what he thought he had to. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry… Y/N… I… I don’t know how you’re ever going to forgive me. And Geez, if you never do then I get it. I don’t deserve you to, but I…” he shook his head “I never stopped loving you. I didn’t. I don’t know if I hated you because of that, or… because what I’d caused to happen. I’m not worthy of your forgiveness either, but- I’m sorry… I just… I’m so sorry.” You did pull slightly away from him, eyes returning to a far more natural colour as you studied Ralph hard. There was a lot you had to say; certainly nothing that could be fixed with the words or kisses that spilled from his lips. Ralph Anderson would, in time, earn your trust back. But he’d never lose your love – and he knew that, somewhere in his heart he knew that. You sighed; “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for sorry?” You shook your head, but as you stilled, you smiled: “I forgive you...” “C-Can we go home? C-can we start over?” “Home?” You tilted your head, “You may take me back to Cherokee City. But as for your other request, I’d quite like to pick up where we left off, Ralph Anderson.” “I…I think I can do that.” “Wait- I have a request of my own.” You took those steps back into his body. “Yes?” “Kiss me, again?” You nearly got a laugh out of him, and you would take it, as his arms wound around you again and you felt his lips back on yours. Your relationship would have to heal, but would probably take a little less time to do so than your body would. There would be a lot of learning to be done; but you could both do it. You could both fix your mistakes. There was a light at the end of that tunnel and you could walk through this together. In all your lifetimes, every lover that had come and gone no matter how long or short, you’d known as soon as you met him that there would never be another Ralph Anderson. And you were right. But there was no one else’s hand you would rather be holding down this road. And you couldn’t wait to live the rest of his life with him.

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I know this one is a big one but thank you SO much for reading it!🙊💕 It really does mean the world to me, and if you can give this series some love I’d really appreciate it, I do feel like this is some of my best writing...

You guys are so great! Thank you for sticking with me!