#Khan x OFC

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

words: 1.9k

Chapter Two

“Drop it now,” he repeated, with the sure authority of a man accustomed to having his orders obeyed, “And I promise I will not hurt you.”

Despite his iron grip, Seraphina struggled to pull her arm away, hissing through teeth gritted against the pain, “Won’t hurt me?  You’re hurting me now.”

Harrison’s hold on her arm loosened some; she was still tightly caught, but the pressure of his grasp, the pain, had receded a fair bit—although she knew she’d find dark, finger-shaped bruises there in short order.  If she even lived that long. “Forgive me,” he told her, his voice low and even, “I’d forgotten how fragile your bones can be.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, straining for release from his clutch and realizing it was all too impossible; she was no match for his strength, and even if she could manage to trigger the mace, she had no sure way to aim it properly.  She felt desperate, frightened tears well up in her eyes, but squeezed her eyes shut against them—for she would not give her assailant the satisfaction of her despair, nor would she beg for mercy.

He must’ve read that quiet resignation on her face, for he tugged her fist close and covered it with his free hand, urging her to see reason, “You cannot win this struggle, Seraphina.  Your resistance is futile; surely you understand this?”  Harrison’s voice was silk persuasion, rich and dark and seductive—at complete odds with the very real threat he presented.  “I could easily break your wrist and prize your little weapon from your fingers—but I honestly have no desire to hurt you. Just let it go.”  And then, to her great surprise, he added, “Please.”

Blinking through the tears that fell against her will, tears that betrayed weakness when she wanted to be strong, Seraphina met his eyes again.  His beautiful, deadly eyes—and saw in them an unexpected sincerity that matched his gentle “please”.  She bowed her head and opened her fist, leaving her key and the can of mace to fall onto the passenger seat.

“There—that wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?”  Why was his voice so soothing?  Fear of what he might do to her next coursed through her veins, yet Seraphina thought she could easily crumple to the ground, curl up into a fetal ball, and let his voice see her into untroubled darkness.  The heat, the fear, the adrenaline, the struggle—all of it had sapped her of the will to face whatever might come next.  She’d always believed it wasn’t in her nature to fall apart so quickly, but she felt that way now, all the same.

True to his word, Harrison released her arm, but Seraphina remained in place, braced against the passenger side door, shaking in the aftermath and considering her very limited options. She might try to make it to her hovercraft, but the stranger now held her key; and even if she had the strength to run and the speed to outpace him, to flee into the desert at her back would be equally as brutal as anything he might do to her. She'd have to make her stand right here, then--and though she was no match for his size and strength, she knew enough to leave him hurting before he took her down for good.

Taking stock of her condition--mentally preparing to fight him off as best she could--Seraphina flexed her left wrist carefully, wincing as she explored her tender forearm with cautious fingers. Nothing broken at least, though she felt a bone-deep ache; but it would not be enough to hamper any effort to defend herself.

Strangely, Harrison was ignoring her at the moment; having retrieved her keychain, he had torn the can of mace free with no effort, before hurtling it carelessly into the desert. Seraphina had a vivid image of her own broken, half-naked body flung just as easily and left upon the sand for carrion-eaters to feast upon. She shoved the idea down deep, knowing such fear would only cripple her--and was immediately dumbfounded when he held the key out to her.

"Did I not say I have no wish to harm you?" Harrison's eyes bored into her own, searching for calm and reasoned understanding. "In spite of how it appears, we are equally vulnerable in this place and situation. We must find a way to trust one another. " Sera only continued to regard him warily. "Take this," he insisted, "If I judge you correctly, simple concern for a traveler in need motivated you to stop. And in keeping with your nature, I believe that you will not deny me the help that I need."

Sera studied his face, looking for signs of deception, skittish to trust him but accepting his peace offering nevertheless. "You lied," she said, defiant yet holding her anger at bay, "This car isn't yours..."

Harrison nodded, his full lips pressed together against a small placid smile, "I never claimed that it was..."

"It's stolen," she fumed, irritated with herself for allowing him to so easily mislead her when her first instinct had been correct after all.

"An act of desperation, I assure you..."

"Just as this was," she exclaimed, extending her bruised forearm to him, "I have to wonder what happens to people who truly stand in your way, Mr. Harrison. "

Unruffled by her outburst, Harrison closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. When he looked to her again, he was the picture of patience. "I swear I have no desire to cause you--or anyone else--harm. But you must understand, I am in dire straits and as we linger here, my family is in imminent danger." He paused, weighing the effect of his words upon her. "Such a thing will make a man act beyond the measures of polite society."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his revelation of a family, but suspending her disbelief for the moment, "How then? What sort of danger is your family in?"

"Their very lives hang in the balance, threatened by a powerful man who seeks to manipulate me into working for him." Embers of hate flashed in his eyes, and he gave a bitter huff as he added, "Forcing me to work toward the most nefarious of purposes."

Sera shook her head, clearing the double vision that had crept up on her; she cupped a trembling hand against her forehead, which came away slick with perspiration. It was the heat getting to her, obviously. She felt parched, although the thought of putting anything into her roiling stomach left her feeling even more nauseous, and her head was pounding in time with her racing pulse. She needed to get out of the goddamn heat before she collapsed from heat exhaustion--while the man before her looked completely unaffected by the desert climate. "And...and I suppose this mysterious man is so powerful that you can't seek help from the proper authorities?" Sera leaned all her weight against the car door, wondering if Harrison had noticed her current state of distress.

If he did, he gave no sign of it, a mix of pain and rancor coloring his strikingly handsome features. "So powerful that it would be in your best interest to remain ignorant as to his identity and position." Anticipating her next question, he warned her, "Do not ask--for I cannot reveal that information."

Though stymied by his vague replies--and sensing a much more complicated tale behind what he'd already admitted to--Sera read blunt honesty in his voice and body language. And the fact that he had willingly returned her key while asking for--rather than demanding--her help, seemed a testament to some underlying truth. She realized that she likely had only a few more minutes until she passed out, leaving her completely at Harrison's mercy. "Then how...how did you end up here, stranded in the Mojave," Sera asked, panting softly, "How does any of this help your family?"

He was watching her closely now, so that he had to aware that she was fading fast. "That is a rather long and complicated tale, Seraphina." His voice had again taken on a lulling pitch. "One which I believe would outlast your capacity to remain on your feet."

She held on to the window frame, white-knuckled but determined to remain upright long enough to learn his hidden agenda. "I'm fine...I...I'm just a little light-headed..."

"Step aside now, Seraphina." Again, that tone of a man whose orders were obeyed without question. "You have little time left before you lose consciousness." His hand was already on the door handle, and she stumbled back in time for him to swing the door open.

Then he was looming over her, a tall, cooling shadow, reaching out to brace her. His touch this time was firm, while surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you out of this heat." Unexpected concern in is stunning eyes, calming concern in his voice. The man was a beautiful enigma.

"No...please...tell me. If...if you want me to trust you..." Her world was darkening around the edges, narrowing so that only his face remained in her field of vision. "If you want me to help...I need...I need to know..." Seraphina felt herself going, and as her consciousness fled, so did her fear and curiousity; only one need remained. She sobbed against him as he scooped her up into his arms, "But you promised...you promised not to hurt me again..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she slipped away from awareness.

Harrison strode swiftly towards her hovercraft, cradling her as softly as he could, knowing that the cool, dark interior was the quickest remedy at hand for what ailed her. "Oh, pretty little Seraphina," he murmured, brushing his lips against her dampened hair, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and honey, relishing how light and easy she felt in his arms. "Hurting you is the least likely thing I have planned."

(to be continued)

If you enjoyed this, please reblog ~ it's the only way others can see this work.💟

tagging: @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @strangelockd @groovy-lady @aphroditesdilemma @stewardofningishzida @battledress @mousedetective @dearmrsstephenstrange @lorelei-lee @mckiwi @shinebrightlikeafanbase @cumberbatchitis @doctorhelm @strangeflashholmes221 @prulock @stargirl-designs @hajile10 @dancingmushu @iloveavengersblog @fireonmybones @osugahunnyicedtea @brayleigh14

(There were a few more blogs that I tried to tag based on the response to chapter one, but tumblr's messed up url search function kept telling me 'no blog found'🤨)

#my writing #A Khan By Any Other Name #suspense #mystery #danger #Khan #Khan Noonien Singh #Star Trek Into Darkness #Star Trek: Into Darkness #Khan x OC #Khan x OFC #Seraphina DiPietro #OFC #OC #Khan x Seraphina #Khan fan fiction #Khan fanfiction #Star Trek fanfiction #Star Trek fan fiction #Star Trek TOS fanfiction #Star Trek TOS fan fiction #Benedict Cumberbatch #My Constant Muse #Khanbatch #my dark magnificent prince #deadly beautiful #beautifully deadly #sinister & sexy af #don't try to tell me that he's a heartless villain #his heart is deep and fathomless for those he cares about

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

Gabriel and Amala in 9 Quotes

#gonna do this with more ships so send some requests!! platonic friendships count too ofc just to be clear #not all of these are accurate but it's not about accuracy it's about the ✨vibes✨ they're my roman empire ig 🤷🏽‍♀️ #romance club #kali call of darkness #amala khan #gabriel grant #amala x gabriel #cute prompts

[chickensarentcheap]

In a Heartbeat- Part One

FANDOM: EXTRACTION

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

WARNINGS: angst. Big time angst.

SUMMARY:  Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began.  In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be.  And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.  

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/122826046

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @secretaryunpaid @arrthurpendragon @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @starryeyes2000​ @kmc1989 @timbradfordsboot @themaradwrites @asirensrage @residentdormouse @thesirenrealm @ocappreciationtag​ @occommunity​ @thebewingedjewelcat​

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you’d like to be added :) ​

*****

Author’s note:  This is a little three-part companion piece to the Tyler and Esme series. However, it follows the timeline of Extraction 2 and contains canon events from the movie. So there are slight spoilers ahead! You’ve been warned :)   You do not need to have read any of the other fics to understand this one. 

This has been a ‘thing’ in progress for a while now.  Something wanted to write about Tyler’s time in the hospital and Esme’s decision to give up her life as she knew it to stick around and support him through it.  I think @tragiclyhip​ had probably heard about my plans for this about a dozen times in the past two years alone LOL.   But the hospital scenes in E2 encouraged me to finally get off my butt and write it.  

A huge thanks to @tragiclyhip​ for the incredible story cover and to @youflickedtooharddamnit​ for coming up with the perfect title! Love you guys :D 

*****

She’s used to it now. The steady hums and beeps of the machines that keep him alive.  

Every new day is like the one before it.   Four months of repeating the same actions from morning until night.  And despite the sterile confines of the Intensive Care Unit, she’s managed to settle into a familiar and somewhat comfortable routine;   on a first-name basis with many of the nurses and support staff,  and the ‘on-ward’ coffee shop baristas able to recite her usual order from sheer memory.  Extra large tea.  Three milk. No sugar.   A toasted bagel with peanut butter for breakfast.  A fruit and yogurt parfait for lunch.  A bowl of soap or a salad for dinner.

Sometimes both.

Her brain is saturated with mundane and useless details; ridiculous little tidbits of information that help keep her sane and functioning. She knows it’s forty-seven paces to the private washroom, another hundred and ten to the kitchen and common area set up for patients’ family members.  And that the vending machine by the communal laundry room is temperamental;  every third quarter is only accepted if you first vigorously rub the edge of it along the metal slot. 

It’s as far as she’s gone.  She hasn’t dared to venture beyond the ward; filled with a sense of dread that the moment she steps foot outside of it, the worst will happen.  As if the shadow of death is just lingering in the corner;  licking its lips as it anxiously and patiently awaits her departure.  Feeling as if she can somehow ward it off if she stays nearby;  not giving that cold and unforgiven hand a chance to get close enough to grab hold of him.  And she’s determined to fight the demon off as long as she possibly can.  

Whether that’s weeks or months. Or even years.  

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Nik had lamented, attempting to cut through that wall built with immense stubbornness and unshakable paranoia.  “You can’t let yourself get rooted to this place. This SPOT.   This isn’t what he would want.”

She’d wanted to tell Nik that perhaps she didn’t know Tyler as well as she thought she did.  After all, she’d never been privy to the sides of him that existed beyond being mercenary;  at her beck and call whenever a job required ‘the best of the best’.   Was it through her own disinterest? Did she simply not care about the human being and only the seemingly fearless ‘gun for hire’? Or was it Tyler’s doing? A case of not allowing or wanting her to get that close? A defensive mechanism perhaps;  weighed down by layers of trauma and loss as he somehow tries to prevent himself from drowning in an angry, unrelenting sea of guilt and regret.  

And she’d found herself irrationally angry at Nik’s mere suggestion;  that somehow she knew him THAT way.  After all, Nik hadn’t experienced those five days in Dhaka. Not in the way SHE had.  It hadn’t been Nik sharing a bed with him;  her body that his mouth and his hands roamed and expertly and effortlessly drove to the heights of a passion she’d never experienced.   She hadn’t been the one he’d been kissing;  her face cradled so delicately within the confines of rough, calloused palms.   And it hadn’t been her that he had opened up to;  openly talking about the death of his son and the horrible decision he’d made in the lead-up to his last weeks on earth.  Nik hadn’t served as his confessional;  her heart breaking as he poured out his entire heart and soul and trusted her with his deepest and darkest -and damning- secret.   

Instead, she’d stayed civil; appreciating the friendship and the help too much to let her hurt feelings and wounded pride destroy her one and only support system.  Remaining calm and quiet as she reminded Nik that the intimacy between herself and Tyler had extended far beyond the physical;  they’d confided in each other and found a shared level of trust and faith that neither had ever experienced with another. They’d made plans;  mused about visiting each other’s respective home countries and then taking some of their payouts and travelling the world.  Making no concrete plans; instead packing lightly and choosing destinations on the whim.  It would give them a chance to get to know one another;  concentrating on nothing but each other and seeing if they could make something -something good, something permanent-  out of the five-day whirlwind they’d experienced in Dhaka.

They’d been excited.  Optimistic.

And then the world opened up beneath them and swallowed them whole.

******

Every morning begins the same.  

Stirred awake by the arrival of the day shift nurse;  a young woman fresh out of college that possesses both enormous compassion and remarkable wisdom.  The only one that doesn’t look at her with a mixture of pity and irritation;  who doesn’t sigh in annoyance when she’s asked the same questions during EVERY vitals check and who always has something positive to say instead of the usual doom and gloom.   Always feeding into the hope that Esme so desperately clings to;  sharing stories of patients who’d been through worse and had ‘been under’ much longer,  but had one day come out of things and gone on to live healthy, successful lives.   

She sees how the others look at her; the way they huddle together at the nurse’s station and whisper as she passes by.   As of yet she hasn’t addressed the issue or called them out;  too lost in her own little world powered by fear,  worry,  and stress unlike anything she’s ever known.  But she has daydreamed about it;  the moment when she’ll finally have enough and stand up for herself.  How satisfying it will be to see their shocked and embarrassed expressions when she addresses them in Arabic; one of the six languages aside from English that she’d long ago mastered during her time in the Corps.  And she’ll let them know that she isn’t the weak little girl that they view her as;   that she is a grown-ass woman who isn’t delusional or crazy for clinging so desperately to any sign of hope. 

 Yes, it’s true; she and Tyler HAVEN’T known each other for long.  Only a week if their initial meeting and the twenty-four hours of mission planning were taken into consideration.  But she isn’t pathetic for fighting for the best possible care for him.  Or for holding onto the optimism that one day she WILL get more time with him.   That he’ll fight his way out of the coma and begin that long road of healing.

Sleep hasn’t been her friend since Dhaka;  plagued by bloody and brutal nightmares that replay those desperate moments on the bridge.  The events disjointed and out of place, but extremely vivid;  witnessing him taking the bullet to the neck and seeing the fear and panic immediately take over his face.  The terror in his eyes as he attempted to get get to safety;  a hand clasped tightly over the wound as blood seeped through his fingers and trickled down his arm.  Her screams as clear as the day they’d escaped from her mouth;  repeatedly calling out his name as fought her way out of Nik’s protective embrace.  

It’s so real when it happens; as if she’s transported back to the exact place and the exact time. Able to smell the mixture of spent gunpowder and spilt gasoline and the polluted water wafting up from the river.   Feel the oppressive humid and choking humidity;  the sun ferocious as it pounded down upon her,  and the cement so scorching that when she kneels upon it burns her skin through the fabric of her pants.  The weight of his much larger, stronger body as it lays upon her thighs;  a fear and desperation in his eyes as he clung desperately to the front of her t-shirt and struggled in vain to speak through the damage done to his body.

And the blood.  So much blood.   

Pouring through her fingers as she attempted to cover the wound and keep pressure on it.  Her entire body and her voice trembling as she tried her best to remain calm;  repeatedly assuring him that help was on its way while trying to succumb to the fear that no one was coming to save them.  They’d be left behind with no possible means of escape.  And Asif’s remaining men would find them; either putting bullets in their head to kill them immediately or leaving Tyler there to die while dragging her back to days, weeks, even months of sheer hell under their boss’ roof.  Trying to ward off the thoughts of the ‘worst case scenario’, she’d instead focused on doing whatever it took to keep  Tyler alive. Tears streaming down her face as she apologized for having to cause him more pain in order to help him, then proceeding to push two fingers through the bullet wound in an attempt to pinch off the flow of blood right from the source.

Asleep or not, she can still hear the strangled scream he’d given; see the way his eyes briefly fluttered and then rolled towards the back of his head as he lost consciousness.

It’s a sound…and a sight…she will never forget.

*****

She isn’t in the mood for being social.  Normally she’d cheerfully greet the nurse and then force herself out of bed;  her back and her neck aching from a night on the rickety folding cot as she made her way to Tyler’s side.  It’s a mixture of things;  the hope that she’ll be told of even the smallest improvement in his condition and a lingering fear…a paranoia…that someone will further harm him.  That news of his survival will prompt the need for revenge;  Asif sending someone under the guise of a nurse to perhaps put something…some kind of toxic…into his IV line to ‘finish the job’.

It’s absurd, of course.  And a sign that she’s truly starting to lose it.

This morning she ignores the nurse’s arrival and opts to stay in bed; completely wrapping her body in her blankets as she rolls onto her side.   Despite the sunshine that pours into the central courtyard, her mood is dark and troublesome;  she feels empty and incredibly lonely and wishes she’d simply died that day on the bridge.  It would have been so much easier;  if death had just claimed them both instead of banishing them to a  wasteland of fear and dread.   Scared every time she even goes to the bathroom or to take a shower that something terrible will happen;  her absence being the precise time that his body decides to give up the fight and move onto a far more peaceful, pain-free existence.   

She doesn’t entertain those thoughts often;  managing to hold onto that shred of hope that carries her from one day…one hour…one hour…one second…to the next.   But every so often the doom and gloom creeps in;  the times when she considers all the negativity that the doctors have been spoon-feeding her for months.   The way they’ve gently pressured her to simply move on with her life;  she hasn’t known him that long and surely his loss wouldn’t be THAT big of a tragedy.   

They insist they know what’s best for BOTH of them;  a peaceful demise for Tyler and her finding a way to forget that he ever existed.   And when she refuses to budge and reminds them that she’s calling the shots, they change their tactics;  speaking of massive brain damage and considerable loss of cognitive function IF he comes out of the coma.  Issuing warnings that he’ll likely need one-to-one care for the rest of his days; someone that can help feed him and dress him and get him in and out of the shower.  Is that really the kind of life SHE wants?

“I don’t care if I have to take care of him,” she’d angrily informed them.  “I don’t care if I have to help with ANY of that.  If I have to spend the rest of my life helping him to the bathroom, I’ll do it.  In a heartbeat.”

It’ll be days before they approach the subject again.  Allowing her time to ‘cool down’ before once more bringing it;  the badgering to turn off the machines and let ‘nature take its course’.   And they meet the same brick wall time and time again;  unable to win the battle against her stubbornness as she digs her heels in even deeper. 

Her eyes close as the nurse’s footfalls grow closer;  smelling the aroma of freshly brewed tea as a cup and placed upon the window ledge.  And she remains perfectly still as a hand is placed upon the top of her head; a fleeting yet affectionate and concerned moment before the blankets are tucked protectively around her body.   Her chest immediately tightens and tears threaten; it’s been decades since anyone -outside of romantic partners- had shown that level of care and concern.  Her own mother had been void of any kind of love and tenderness for her;  showing nothing but the utmost disdain and showing no interest in bonding with her daughter in any way, shape, or form.   

Yet here was a woman -younger than Esme herself- in possession of such tenderness and compassion; willingly accepting the role of caretaker in regards to a non-patient. 

A complete stranger.  

She wants to bury her face in her pillow and cry;  let out all of the emotions that have been weighing her down for the last five months.  A multitude of so many things;  guilt and hopelessness and emptiness beyond anything she’s ever experienced.   A stark contrast compared to what she’d felt in Dhaka;  behind closed doors when the job could be temporarily forgotten and they’d become nothing more than two broken and lonely people finding solace in each other.   It had been the first time -in what seemed like decades- that she’d ever felt that connected to someone;  able to be honest and transparent and not feel pitied or looked down upon.   Her ex-husband had destroyed her;  mentally and physically.  And she’d sworn that she’d never…ever…trust a man again;  refusing to hand over her heart only to have it ripped from her chest and thrown on the ground and stomped upon.

Tyler was different.

Even with the mountains of baggage and his extreme self-loathing, he had shown a genuine interest in not only her, but in her interests and the things she had to share.   Whether it was in that bar in Dhaka the first night -when they’d shared pitchers of beer and lost count of the number of tequila shooters they’d pounded back- or two days later;  when they’d found themselves caught in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty, naked limbs.   Surrendering to an intense sexual attraction in the midst of the craziness and unpredictability of the job;  unabashedly using one another for not only physical pleasure, but as an escape from the profound emptiness that haunted them both. And they’d somehow segued so seemingly and effortlessly into something much more meaningful;  quickly trusting and opening up to one another and forming a unique and powerful bond within the confines of that dirty little hotel room.

 He hadn’t been the least bit ‘put off’ by her backstory or the emotions she showed while sharing it; an infinite amount of patience and understanding in both his eyes and his touch.  Making her feel ‘seen’ for the first time in her entire life;  able to truly be herself and not feel judged or ridiculed for it.  She was finally wholly and completely accepted. By a man with even higher and thicker walls built around his heart and soul.

And above all else, he’d made her feel wanted.  Needed. Beautiful. Desirable.  Looked upon as if she was the most incredible woman in the world.

How could she possibly give it…ALL OF IT…up?

****

Waiting until she hears the soft click of the door as it closes, she tosses off the blankets;  yawning noisily and rubbing at her stiff neck and shoulders as she swings her legs over the side of the cot.   She’s slept in worse places; off-the-grid caves and huts and bombed-out towns in both Afghanistan and Iraq.  With not even the tiniest bit of comfort that the pencil-thin cot mattress provides her with;  memories of using layers of broken down garbage boxes or piles of dry and withered leaves and even just the rocks and sand as a foundation to rest upon.  

But she’d been younger then; fresh out of university and full of life and energy and possessed by an unshakable lust for adventure and danger.   The intel field was her specialty;  her tiny size and ‘girl next door’ looks and ‘apple pie’ personality opening doors that were inaccessible to others.  Earning a well-respected and rock-solid reputation as she easily and effortlessly wormed and weaved her way into the tightest of circles. Surrounding herself with dangerous and shady characters that were enabled and empowered by even more deadly and vicious leaders.  

It had been those experiences and their accompanying successes -along with her tumultuous, failed marriage- that had eventually led her to Nik.  

And that little rundown shack in the Australian outback. 

Shoving her feet into a pair of nearby Crocs,  she gathers her messy, dark tresses in both hands;  fashioning them into a ponytail that she secures with an elastic she keeps around her left wrist.  And taking a single sip of tea, she returns the cup to the window ledge before approaching the bed;  snagging that chart that hangs from a hook on the footboard and quickly scanning through the notes that the nurse had left behind.   She’s not sure what she’s actually looking for;  perhaps the smallest bit of information that signals some kind of change in his condition.   It’s that hope again;  the little shred she clings to when she’s at her lowest.   Not a praying person by any stretch of the imagination, but always begging to some higher power to give her a sign…no matter how minuscule…that things are on the upswing.

Today is NOT the day.

Returning the chart to its resting place, she moves to the side of the bed and lowers the safety railing; frowning when she notices the awkward placement of the pillows meant to keep his upper body well supported.

“I’m just going to fix something real quick,” she says aloud, then carefully slips an arm between him and the bed; the back of his head cradled in her palm as her free hand fluffs and realigns the pillows.  “I don’t do this? You’re going to have a hell of a stiff neck when you get up.”

It usually gives her a sense of normalcy; talking to him as if he’s going to respond.  Helping to keep her sane; imagining his accent, what he’d say in return, and what his facial expressions would look like.   In some ways, those five days in Dhaka had felt like a lifetime; feeling closer and more connected to him than people she had known for decades. Even for her entire existence.  Able to read him so easily during both the quiet and more intimate times;  every emotion and feeling laid bare on his face and especially in his eyes.   But today she almost feels foolish;  the pit in both her heart and stomach open and raw and allowing the negativity of all of the naysayers to ooze and fester.

Attempting to keep the darkness away, she places a knee on the mattress; allowing her to get closer to him as she navigates her way around all of the tubes and the wires connected to his body.   A hand resting on his chest as she presses a series of kisses to warm, smooth skin;  the middle of his brow, the bridge of his nose,  the corner of his mouth.  Her eyes briefly closing as she rests her forehead against his temple and breathes in his scent;  saddened that the familiarity of sandalwood, cedar, and slight citrus have long been replaced by the sickly, almost sweet smell of hospital.  

Antiseptic. Illness.  And lingering death.

The latter she refuses to consider. And she forces away the tears as she pulls back to look at him;  her fingers moving slowly and adoringly through his hair.  It’s so much fuller now; a testament to just how long it’s been since they escaped death on the bridge.  The longer top strands continuously falling across his forehead and into his eyes;  the shorter ones now tumbling down and curling over his ears and skimming the nape of his neck.   

It’s so hard to see him like this.  The change more apparent with every passing day.   His skin gray and sickly;  replacing that slight tan that had once given him colour.  Dark circles taking up residence under both eyes and his lips painfully dry; his cheeks becoming hollow under the thicker, darker beard.  And the loss of weight and muscle tone clearly visible;  the hospital gown slipping off sharp, pointier shoulders and hanging loosely over a once broad chest and chiselled stomach.   

But he’s still Tyler. The man that she’d been quickly and unabashedly drawn to the moment she’d met him.  Nothing could EVER replace that person;   those brilliant blue eyes that attempt to mask the pain of his past and the lingering humanity he possessed,  that tightly drawn mouth that betrayed his sadness but -when she lightly teased him and flirted with him in the hotel bar- had transformed into a slow, almost boyish smile. Who tilted his head to the side while listening to her drunken rambles;  shy and withdrawn at first, but the liquid courage consumed through the evening bringing out a more talkative and charming side.   Surprisingly well-read and intelligent;  a man that had seen, done, and experienced the worst yet hadn’t let it completely tarnish his spirit. Not as empty and hollow and dead inside as he believed;  his laugh and the way he teased her and the moments when his fingertips intentionally brushed against hers paying testament to a man who was still very much alive.   

Who could still FEEL.

“Good morning,” she greets, and places another kiss at the corner of his mouth, smiling as she lightly and affectionately tousles his hair.  “First thing we’re going to do when you get out of here? Cut this mop of yours.  I mean, it’s not THAT bad; it’s starting to grow on me and I guess it is kinda cute.  But I DO have my preferences.”

She carefully lowers herself into a sit; folding her legs in her lap before taking one of his hands in both of hers.  Tightly squeeze before using her thumbs to lightly massage his fingers;  paying extra attention to each misshapen knuckle before moving down to his wrist.  Last week he’d shown a small response to the ministrations;  his fingers giving a slight twitch and his heart rate climbing several beats.   It had given her a newfound sense of optimism;  further fuelling the hope that he was fighting his back.  Until the neurologist told her it was likely involuntarily; a common and unexpected hike in the numbers and nothing more than random nerve  ‘flinches’.

She waits for it now; eyes on the monitor, anxiously chewing on the inside of her cheek.   

Nothing.

“I don’t care what they say,” she informs him, and turns his hand over;  setting it on her thigh with the palm facing upwards. “I know you meant to do it. It wasn’t just something random.  It was totally intentional.  I know it. I know YOU.”

For several minutes she sits in silence. Listening to the beeps and the hums of the various machines as her fingertips glide over his palm; alternating between repeatedly tracing slow, methodical circles and gently picking at the calluses at the bottom of his thumb and each finger. Such big, beautiful hands; able to inflict both immense pain and mind and body-numbing pleasure.   Capable of not only taking a life in the most bloody and gruesome ways, but also possessing a tenderness unlike anything she’s ever experienced.   Moments when he smoothes hair away from her face and loops wayward strands behind her ears.  Or he cradles her face in his hands as he kisses her;  her mind and her pulse racing from the juxtaposition of rough, battered skin and smooth, soft lips.

She’s looking at the monitor when she both feels and hears it;  the slight bump of his leg against the side of her thigh and the quiet rustle of the skin against sheets.   For a brief moment her heart stops and she forgets to brief;  eyes snapping away from the numbers displayed on the screen to his face.  Hoping and praying for something more;  the flutter of eyelashes or the twitch of his lips or even the slightest murmur or mumble from around the tube held securely in his mouth.

“Do that again,” she implores, and tightly squeezes his hand in both her own.  “I know I wasn’t imagining it.  And I know it wasn’t what the doctor said; something random and involuntary. You MEANT to do it. I know you did. So do it again. Please?”

She returns to massaging his hand;  focusing once more on fingers and wrist as a form of encouragement.   Alternating behind studying his face for any subtle change and glancing back at his left leg;  silently begging and pleading for it to move once.

“Tyler…” Sighing, she tightens her grip on his hand; tears burning her eyes, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice.   “...you need to give me something here.   I’m not expecting much; I don’t expect you to open your eyes or squeeze my hand or anything big like that.  But I need SOMETHING. ANYTHING.  That lets me know you’re in there.  That you’re not going anywhere.  That you’re fighting your way back.”

She wants to break down but refuses to give in to the darkness;  adamant to not surrender to her own issues and weaknesses.   That’s the last thing he needs;  sensing and hearing the pain and the desperation in her voice.   Right now he needs her to be the strong one;  the steadfast rock that he can depend on.

“I’m worried,” she admits.  “They’re really getting on my ass now.  About taking you off the machine.  I can only fight and argue so much before they bring out the big guns.  They’ve already threatened it; taking me to court and getting an order to halt all your care.  I can’t let that happen.  I can’t let them just give up on you. I WON’T let them.   But I need your help.  I need you to show them that this isn’t a lost cause.  That I’m not just fighting a losing battle.  So if you could just do SOMETHING…just something really small…to show them that you’re still here.   I know you don’t want to die.   A man that wants to die doesn’t talk about the things we talked about.  They don’t make the plans we did.   So please…”  She’s unable to contain the tears that slip down her cheeks.  “...Tyler…help me.   I need your help. I need YOU.”

She waits for several minutes and then issues a heavy, dejected sigh.  The optimism quickly fading as he remains motionless;  stuck somewhere between the living and dead,  frantically searching for the correct exit.  And she uses the back of her hand to swipe at the tears that glisten upon her cheeks; silently scolding herself for a moment of weakness during a time that calls for courage and strength.  

“I’m going to let you rest,” she says, and slips off the bed.  “I’m going to go and have my tea and do my yoga and then take a shower.  Once that’s done, I’ll be all yours. But for now…” Her voice trails off as she feels the movement against her hand; the light and feathery brush of a finger along the side of her wrist.   And it feels as if she can’t breathe as she glances over her shoulder and down at the mattress; choking back a sob -one of immense relief- at the sight of his hand partially covering hers.   

The hope returns.  

“I knew it.”  Placing a hand on the top of his head, she tunnels her fingers tunnelling in his hair as leans over him. Her eyes closing as she presses a kiss above his left eyebrow and then nuzzles his temple with the tip of her nose. “I KNEW IT.”

*****

She’s asleep when Nik arrives in the late afternoon; awkwardly slumped forward in the bedside chair with both her hands clutching one of Tyler’s and her head resting on his forearm.  And she’s stirred awake by a hand passing gently over the top of her head;  sliding down her hair and settling in the middle of her back.   The fatigue is crippling; emotional and physical exhaustion unlike anything she’s ever experienced before.   But the moment that morning has kept her spirits uplifted, and she glances up at Nik and gives her a sleepy smile in greeting.

“You’re going to end up in traction falling asleep like that,” Nik teases.

“Guess I dozed off.  I meant to just rest my eyes, but…”

“You need to sleep. Properly.  You can’t tell me you’re getting enough rest on that thing,” she nods in the direction of the cot.  “Let me get you somewhere to stay.  A hotel. An air BNB.  Somewhere close by.  I know you won’t come as far as my place;  even a half-hour flight is way too long. Just let me…”

She’s made the offer several times over the past five months;  gently suggesting one of the finer hotels or even a short-term apartment rental.   Willing to pick up the tab;  the weapons dealing gig and the mercenary business leaving her with a healthy share of disposable income.  Despite a fairly lavish lifestyle. 

Yawning, Esme smoothes wayward strands of hair from the side of her face. “I’m fine here. I don’t want to leave.  I CAN’T leave.”

“He’d want you to take care of yourself.  You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

“My cup is nowhere near empty.”

Nik arches an eyebrow and stares down at her pointedly.

“It’s not,” she insists. “I know my own cup.  I know how much it can take.  I’m fine.”

Nik relents. The heels of her simple black pumps click noisily against the polished tile as she heads for the small sitting area; setting her purse and a small duffle bag on the sofa before shrugging out of her trench coat and draping it over the back of one of the armchairs.   

“I thought you wouldn’t be back in until sometime next week,” Esme says, as her friend joins her at Tyler’s bedside; pulling over an extra chair and sitting down across from her.  “Didn’t you have business in Brunei?”

“I got home last night; I was able to wrap things up quicker than I anticipated.  I thought I would come by. Check on things.”

“Things have been good.  Well, as good as they can be, I guess.”     

Her entire body stiffens as she watches Nik engage with him;  the way she smooths his hair away from his eyes and continuously brushes her thumb across his forehead.  She tries to tell herself that she’s reading too much into it;  the softness of Nik’s face and the tears shimmering in her eyes and tenderness in the way she touches him. She knows of their past;  a strictly physical ‘arrangement’ that had gone smoothly until Nik developed feelings and suddenly wanted more than he was willing to give.   His brutal honesty had caused friction in both their friendship and their work life;  Nik understandably hurt when he’d informed her that he didn’t feel the same way. And never would.   If she wanted something like THAT,  she’d have to find it somewhere else.

She wonders now if there’s some kind of residual anger on Nik’s behalf.  Maybe even some jealousy.   It would be a bitter pill to swallow;  the man that you wanted not feeling the same way in return.  Who’d told you that he’d never be ready to commit to ANYONE that way.  Only to do a complete three-sixty less than a year later.  

“Any change?”  Nik addresses her,  a hand now resting on top of one of Tyler’s.  

“No.”   The lie rolls easily off of her tongue;  not in a hurry to share what had taken place earlier.   She needs more proof;  more instances of voluntary and meaningful movement and interaction before she confides in Nik or even thinks of taking the information to the nurses.   She’s been ignored and ridiculed before;  excited about progress he seemed to be making only to be told it was ‘all in her head’.   

Nik smiles.  It’s meant to be comforting. Reassuring. But it’s laced with pity.  “Maybe soon.”

*****

They sit together in the seating area on the opposite side of Tyler’s room while a personal support worker tends to trimming his nails and beard. And she has to struggle to hold back the urge to tell the woman to leave;  much preferring to do even those tasks herself.  It makes her feel useful; helping with even the most basic of needs.   As if she finally has some kind of purpose in life;  someone that she can nurture and care for and feel as if she’s achieving something meaningful.

 Something GOOD.

Perhaps in a way, it’s a form of seeking absolution.   A chance to prove that she’s deserving of forgiveness for all the wrongs she’d committed in the course of the last few years.   She’s done some questionable things in the name of the job;  the lying and the conning and the forming relationships and bonds with people only to lead them to punishment and certain death.   The mercenary word is a double-edged sword;  a life spent hunting down the most atrocious of people only to find yourself resorting to the most atrocious of behaviour to bring them to justice.   And not a justice that involves due process or human rights or judge and jury.  But one that included horrendous violence and bloodshed.

And an enormous payout.

Nik has brought food from home;  Khoresht-e fesenjan, Persian rice and Sangak bread. Admitting -somewhat sheepishly as she loaded up two plates with the various offerings- that Yaz had prepared it. His interests extending far past soccer, TikTok, and pricey designer clothes.  And they engage in small talk as they eat, Esme listening as  Nik shares the details of her recent business trip to Brunei.  Taking on an extremely high profile client in the weapons dealing department;  someone needing to protect themselves and their family -via an army of heavily equipped bodyguards. And for a brief moment, she considers the surreality of the conversation,  wondering when -and how- her life had gone off the beaten path and found its way HERE.   In this business.  Her closest friends…HER FAMILY…gun runners and mercenaries.

“I’ve been doing a little searching,” Nik announces, as pushes her empty dishes and containers of food aside;  laying sheets of paper on the top of the coffee table.  Images that she’s printed off the internet;  different angles taken of a small cabin -situated mere feet from an icy lake- surrounded by towering pine trees and snow-covered mountains.  “And l found a little place. It’s perfect.”

“I didn’t realize you were looking to add to your collection of houses,”  Esme chides.  “Doesn’t really seem your style.  Unless maybe it’s for the job.  A place to hide people away.  A safe house.”

“It’s in Austria. Gmunden.  On the outskirts of town.  Remote.  Peaceful. And it’s not for me. Or the job.”

“Nik…”

‘I know you think I’m overstepping. And maybe I am.  But I care about you.  And I’m worried about you.”

Leaning forward, Esme scoops up a handful of pictures.  The cabin and its surroundings remind her of home. Or what USED to be her home.  Raised in a small town in Colorado situated at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.  She hasn’t been there in years; estranged from an abusive mother and five older brothers.   And she hasn’t had the desire to return;  enjoying life in that small little apartment in Prague;  settling down in the Czech Republic after troubles with The High Table had caused her to flee New York City.

She sighs as she tosses the photos onto the coffee table. “I can’t afford this.”

“You don’t have to. It’s a gift.  From Yaz and I.  Somewhere YOU can recuperate.   Mentally.”

“I’m fine.   I don’t need a place to hide away.  It’s beautiful and I’m sure I’d love it there.  And I appreciate the offer.  I appreciate EVERYTHING you’ve been doing for me. For US.  But…”

“You don’t leave the ward.   You barely leave this room.  You haven’t seen the sun in nearly five months.”

“I see it every day.” She gestures to the wall of windows that give a view of the central courtyard.   “Unless it’s raining, of course.”

“You haven’t felt it on your skin.  You haven’t breathed in fresh air.  You haven’t seen or spoken to anyone NOT connected to all of this.”

“I’ll get a chance to do all of that when this is all over.  When it’s all behind us.  Once he’s better and he’s out here and we never have to see this place ever again.  Once that happens…”

“And if he doesn’t?” Nik gently challenges. “Get better? Get out of here? What then?”

“He WILL.   He’s going to open his eyes and he’s going to get off that machine and he’s going to breathe on his own and…”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that he won’t.  Why are you giving up on him? Why is everyone in such a hurry? Why does everyone just want to wash their hands of him and count him out? Why…?”

“No one wants to do any of that. But some of us…as much as it hurts…are being realistic.  We are being truthful.  You’re hanging on to this very thin thread and it is getting thinner every day.  We care about YOU.  We’re worried about YOU.  This isn’t healthy.   This vigil you’re holding.  Having hope is one thing, but THIS?”

“He’ll be fine,” Esme remains steadfast.  “He’ll come out of that coma and he’ll be alright.  It’ll take some time, but he’ll do it.  He’ll be Tyler again.  Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“Look at him!  Do you really think this is fair? Leaving him like this? Do you really WANT him to be like this?”

“It’s not permanent. He’s not always going to be this way.   This is just temporary. He’s going to be fine.  He’ll get back on his feet and…”

“He has a machine breathing for him!  Keeping him alive.  I know you think you’re doing what’s best for him…”

“I AM.  I AM doing what’s best for him.   I’m the only one that is.  I’m the only person not giving up on him.  The rest of you are so caught up in just pulling the plug that…”

“Esme, I care about you.   You’re my friend.   You’re the closest thing that Yaz and I have to other family. And I am not saying these things to hurt you.   I’m saying them to get you to open your eyes to what’s really going on.  This isn’t living. He’s not doing this on his own.  Machines are doing it for him. How long are you willing to leave him like this?  A couple more weeks? Months? Years?”

“Just until there’s a sign.  Until something happens where he shows that he’s going to be okay. I just want everyone to give him a chance.  To prove you all wrong.”

“It’s been five months.  Since you got here.  And there’s been no sign. Not even the slightest. Not a twitch of his eyes or his fingers or…”

“His MRI last week showed brain activity,” Esme reminds her friend.   “THAT’S something.”

“Then take him off the machine and…”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He needs more time.  Just a bit.  To get a little stronger.”

“You won’t do it because you’re afraid of what’s going to happen.  Keeping him on it ensures he stays alive.  There’s no guarantee that he’ll breathe on his own once he’s off it, and that’s what scares you; the fact he might die.  As long as you keep him hooked up to that vent, he stays alive and you don’t have to face the worst-case scenario.”

“He just needs a little while longer.  Once he’s a bit stronger, I’ll do it.  I’ll tell them to take him off.  I will.  I promise.”

“You said that two months ago.  You made that same promise.”

“And he’s improved.  Even the doctors have said so.  That there’s some sign; that things are functioning okay and there’s some healing going on and…”

“But there’s not enough.  He’s nowhere where he should be IF things are working properly.   How long are you willing to prolong this? To leave him this way?  Another month? Two? Half a year? A year?”

“I don’t know.  As long as it takes, I guess.”

“Esme….”  Standing, Nik pushes the coffee table aside and then kneels in front of her friend.   “....look at me.”

She vigorously shakes her head in refusal.

 “Look at me,” Nik sternly repeats, and takes her face in her hands; the light pressure of her fingernails in the other woman’s cheeks enough to force eye contact. “I am NOT saying these things to hurt you. I’m trying to get you to see what you are doing to him.  And yourself.”

“I’m doing what he’d want.”

“You don’t know that.  You haven’t known him long enough.  To know what he’d want in a situation like this.”

“I know what happened. In Dhaka.  In that hotel room.  You weren’t there. I WAS.   I know the things we talked about; the plans that we made.  And he’d want to go through with those. So I’m giving him a chance. To get better. So he can have those things.”

“So he can have them or YOU can have them?”

“What’s wrong with wanting them?  With wanting time with him? It’s what we talked about; travelling the world, spending time together, getting to know one another. What’s wrong with wanting that?”

“You’re wanting them at his expense.”

“That’s not true.  I just want everyone to give him a chance.  That’s all I’m asking for.  Why can’t you give him that? A chance? He deserves that.  He paid his dues, Nik. He’s made his amends.  Now give him a goddamn chance. Please.”

“I have been.  For months.”

“If it’s the cost you’re worried about, I can find more money. You don’t have to pay for EVERYTHING.  I can get it somewhere.  I know Tyler has some; at his place in The Kimberley. I don’t know where it’s kept or how much there is exactly,  but I know it’s there somewhere. He told me about it. Keeping a million stashed away. You know, for a ‘rainy day’. All you’d have to do is look for it. It’s not like it’s a big place and if it’s not enough, then…”

“I don’t care about money. I don’t want any from you. Or him.   I said I would take care of things and I am.  No matter how much it ends up costing That’s not what this is about. This is about YOU.   And the decisions you’re making.  I know you want to believe they’re what’s best for Tyler…”

“They ARE what’s best for him. I am doing what he would want.”

“You don’t know that. Not really.   And I think if you were to be totally honest with yourself, you’d admit you’re really doing what’s best for you.”

“That’s not fair, Nik.  I know you think I’m being selfish and that I’m…”

“I don’t think that. And I’ve never said it, either.  I think YOU think it; when you really stop and you get a chance to realize what exactly is happening.   I think you feel that way about yourself. Do you feel that way? Selfish?”

“Sometimes.”

“And then it makes you feel guilty; when you realize you’re doing it more for yourself than you are for him.   You’re trying to hold off the inevitable. But for how long? How long can YOU live like this?  Staying in this room? Putting your life…a REAL life…on the back burner?  How long?”

“As long as I have to.”

“You think Tyler would want that? For you?  This kind of life?  Do you think he’d want you to spend years like this? That would make HIM selfish. And we both know that he’s not a selfish person. He’s selfless if anything.  And he would not want this for you.”

Esme glances towards the bed;  the PSW having long departed, leaving him in that lonely, terrifying void between life and death.   It’s heartbreak unlike anything she’s ever known;   watching someone waste away and become nothing more than a shell of themselves.  He deserves so much better;  his willingness to sacrifice his own life in order to save her and Ovi had earned him a second chance.  An absolution.  And despite his inability to interact with her, these last five months have brought them closer together than any amount of travelling could have ever possibly achieved.   

******

“You love him.”  It’s a statement. Not a question.

She chews on her bottom lip; shaking her head as she looks back at her friend.  “I don’t know.”

“I think you do know.  But for some reason, you don’t want to admit it. Especially to yourself.”

“There’s no way you can feel it this soon. Love.  It takes longer than this. WAY longer.”

“It takes as long as it takes.  Whether it’s a quick process or a long, drawn-out one.”

“But we’ve only known each other for a week.  It’s not like you can count any of the time after Dhaka;  he hasn’t actually been able to put anything into it, you know?  It’s all been pretty one-sided; the time we’ve spent together here,  the conversation, the bonding.  It’s not like he’s been able to take part.  Through no fault of his own.”

“I would say that under normal circumstances, perhaps a week IS too soon.  But these are hardly normal circumstances.   Look at everything you’ve done for him;  everything you’ve given up.   Do you really think just anyone would do this for someone? A person they barely know?  Abandon their entire life…their entire being nearly…to stick by their side? Through all of this?”

“I don’t want him to be alone. Regardless of the outcome.  He deserves so much better than that.  I know he’s made some mistakes.  But he doesn’t deserve to pay for them for the rest of his life. Or WITH his life? I wasn’t going to leave him here, Nik.  I was going to let him go through this by himself. And I especially wasn’t going to let him die alone.”

“Because you love him.”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know if I’m just grasping at straws or if I’m just imagining that we had something really good…really special…in Dhaka. Maybe I’m reading too much into it; the things that happened between us, the things we talked about. Maybe…”

“You’re not.  You were there.  You know what was said.  What happened. In that hotel room.  And you know what your heart is telling you.  You just have to believe it.  TRUST it.”

Heaving a shaky sigh, she blinks back a flood of threatening tears.  “It scares me.  Feeling this way.”

“Why? Because it is so soon?”

“The last person I trusted?  The last person I gave my heart to? They broke me, Nik.  Physically. Mentally.”

“Tyler isn’t Mark,” Nik reminds her.  “He’s not even close to being him.”

“I told myself that I’d never get this close to anyone ever again.  That I’d learned my lesson.  That it was just better if I stayed by myself. Didn’t get attached.  You don’t get hurt that way, you know?  I’ve gotten used to fighting my own battles. Protecting myself.  And then I met him and everything changed.  I changed.”

“You love him.”

Nodding, a hand swipes at the tears that manage to escape.  “I love him.”

“You should tell him.”

“I don’t even know if he can hear me.  I want to believe he can; that all those little times he’s reacted to my voice weren’t just something random.  Some muscle twitch or nerve reaction.  I want to believe that they’ve been intentional; that he’s listening to me and he understands what I’m saying. That he’s fighting his way back. To ME.”

“Do you really want to take a chance? Not saying what you need to say?  What if he CAN hear you?  And understand what you’re saying.  Do you really want to hold back? Because what if something happens and you never get the chance to say those things to him?”

Esme gives a dry laugh. “I mean, I guess it’s kind of better this way, right? Saying them while he’s like this?  Can’t get rejected when the person you’re pouring your heart out to is in a coma.”

“That wouldn’t happen.  He wouldn’t reject you.  Unconscious or not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I DO know that.  I also know you’ll regret it; if he doesn’t make it and you never told him. Don’t do that to yourself.  Don’t let yourself live with that kind of regret. It’s a horrible existence, believe me.”

“I just don’t want it to blow up in my face.  When he wakes up.  I don’t want him turning around and saying, ‘I’m flattered. But thanks and no thanks.”

“I know Tyler.  More than he even realizes.  And trust me when I say that is NEVER going to happen.”

“So just spit out?  Hope for the best? Hope he can actually hear me?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for the last five months?  Hoping for the best?”

Esme nods; sniffling noisily as she uses the front of her t-shirt to clear excess tears from her face.

“I know you’re scared,”  Nik sympathizes. “For a lot of different reasons.   But trust me when I say that there’s no reason to add THIS to your list.”

“I’d do it again.   In a heartbeat.  Stay behind on that bridge.  Stay here.  I’d do it time and time again. No questions asked.  You know that, right?  That I’d do it a million times over?”

Smiling, Nik reaches out to loop wayward strands of hair behind her friend’s ears.  “I know.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake fanfic #Extraction fanfic #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Nik Khan #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake

[spnbaby-67]

Behind The Lens

Masterlist for series.

Summary.

"Behind the Lens" is a love story set in the summer of 2023, focusing on Jensen Ackles, a renowned actor facing the burden of stardom. Jensen's relentless dedication to his career has left him overwhelmed and disconnected from his true self. He's caught between his desire for a break and the pressure to maintain his public image. Through conversations with his manager, Darren, Jensen grapples with the need to find balance between his demanding career and personal well-being. This story explores the challenges of fame and the quest to rediscover one's passion in the entertainment industry. When he crosses path with a photographer Saamiya Siddique will she be able to help him be the man he used to be?

HI everyone, this is a story that I came up with after four years of not writing. I can't believe I am back to writing again, and I'm happy to be. I missed my secret world that I could just jump into and escape reality for awhile. I work at a hospital now and i'm mostly nights so me being a night person, writing is slowly coming back. That being said, please take this as a practice series for what is to come later, I may redo some of my older series once I figure out how to set up my tumbler page again. Remember, this is a FANFICTION, not real life, therefor Danneel is not in the series, but note I do love her just the same. I think she is incredible person and helps keep Jensen grounded, and for that I am thankful. Please do not copy my work and use it as yours, you can share and reblog it that helps me out. If you want to be tagged please let me know, and i'll be happy to do so. I'll have warnings on each chapter, This is also a cross over with the king of bollywood Shahrukh Khan as Saamiya's Father. So lets see how this goes shall we?

Pairings: Jensen Ackles and OFC (Sammiya Siddiqui, Shahrukh Khan, Jared Padalecki, Gen Padalecki, Jo Siddiqui (Saamiya's SIster and best friend)

Chapters

One

Two

Tags

@deans-baby-momma

@nancymcl

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #reader insert #jensen ackles fanfiction #dean winchester #reader fanfiction #jared padalecki #supernatural rpf #sam winchester #dean x reader #OFC Saamiya #Shahrukh Khan #bollywood #angst #smut #traditions and cultures

[paramounticebound]

When you get this, post theme songs for your muse!

Standard Theme: Ode to Fury by Miracle of Sound Battle Theme: Forfeit by Chevelle Emotion theme: Ghost Psalm by Zao Boss Battle Theme: Remnants (Die Sektor remix) by Grendel

tagged by: stolen from @dethqveen

tagging: @vuulpecula @sweetbitterbitten (for marla!) @fasciinating @transcendcnce @donutdollie @godresembled (for rey!) @valkxrie @starnamedlyra @mehrere-musen (sinister and/or shelby!) and everyone that sees this!

#dash games. #x: MY NAME IS KHAN (about.) #ofc the standard theme is for my/kratos too but it also fits khan #he has so much anger inside of him; all consuming; never knowing where to carry it #in his chest? too heavy. hands? they're full. stomach? his grief is already stored there. lungs? trying to breath in this new reality. #he is fury and it controls every part of him regardless if it's obvious or not. #anyway it's midnight and i need to sleep whoops

[troublesomemix]

|| CLOSED with @paramounticebound || continued from here (( i moved it to beta editor ))

That didn't even deserve a reply. Not a verbal one. She was already irritated at the delay, so it took no thinking at all to give him a drastic glare. Such a glance was inbetween starting to bandage him up, the cut well sterilized now. Eden was using some of her precious resources to make sure his wound was fully covered. If she herself were to have a similar unfortunate circumstance, she didn't have too much medical supplies left. It only made her tick a little more. “ Forgive me if this is not the way I would want see you eliminated. A lowly gash for a man like you. ” She could at least be decent. Her conscious would never forgive her otherwise. Eden was all for killing an opponent when it was in the way of defense. But outright neglect? That wouldn't sit well. Expertise ran through her brain, considering her next steps. Eyes darted over to her burning torch, laying on the ground a few steps away. “ We might need to consider cauterizing it. Antibacterial wipes are only going to go so far. ”

#paramounticebound #ofc i am!!! #{ { interactions;; eden } } #{ { interactions;; eden x khan } }

[azhdakha]

Does anyone also feel like ficwriters in Hardy fandom could add more OFCs of color in their fics, especially when they have a picture of the character, or it's just me?

#tom hardy #facepuller #tom hardy x ofc #khan bike

[issacballsac]

“Being Mileena’s Girlfriend„

Saw someone say there isn’t enough MKfem characters x fem reader so here we are ! Fem Reader

Meeting | MKX

You’d def be from Outworld

From the time where she ruled Outworld; before Kotal Khan rebelled against her

Her being Khan obviously you adored her and you couldn’t rlly get close to someone of such high status

However! When she was overthrown it wasn’t too hard to get close to her seeing as she was stripped of her previous status

Just go and join her rebellion lmao

Bonding

Ngl I don’t think she’d care if you’re strong or not just if you’re loyal to her cause

Her multiple failures in trying to regain her throne put her in quite the sour mood

So she’d appreciate if you threw in any new ideas or if you’re dumb as hell like me comforting her is fine too

If you shared any of your food/supplies with her personally(rather than the whole group) she’d be kinda embarrassed to rely on you

Especially if she is physically stronger than you

If you talk about how untrustworthy Tanya is in the beginning she’d be upset with you and distance herself so just wait until ur closer with her/have tangible evidence

She doesn’t take her mask off often in daily passing; excluding during battle ofc

But if you do catch her with her mask down she’d be hasty to put it back up

“You’re really beautiful, Mileena. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that.”

She’d def play off your comment but she’s DYING on the inside of embarrassment

If you specifically pick out a gift for her she’ll be happy and smile under her mask

She’ll start to linger around you more and when planning she’ll always sit next to you

She’s really desperate for love and will grasp onto anything like Shao Khan and Tanya who obviously didn’t truly care for her

Light | End

Depending if you convince her to stop the rebellion/run away with you changes the outcome of your relationship during the original/MKX timeline

If you don’t and go along with her plan to use the amulet you’ll probably die protecting her

Of course the same events as MKX go down with her execution but it’ll be prolonged💀

Kiss one another, die for each other 😦 - Katy Perry or Demi Lovato I don’t remember Ngl

If you do convince her to call off the rebellion it’ll be great!

Of course you can’t just throw a rebellion and walk away unscathed

So you’re gonna have to go into hiding or just cross realms altogether

Methinks she likes physical touch

Think hugs, kisses, hand holding, etc.

You probably wouldn’t be able to stay in one place for long so you’re constantly on the move

Mileena is a big fan of sleeping together though she rlly jus needs comfort bro💀

She’d pick you up and carry you if your into that(totally wouldn’t start freaking out if she dropped you)

When/If you escape to another realm you’ll take on a more relaxing life

Of course you guys don’t stop training just in case but it’s better than being on the run constantly

Taking on a more domestic lifestyle

You’d do a lot of single person tasks together just because

Taking out trash? She’ll help

Washing clothes? She’ll hang them up to dry

She’s not a good cook by any means but she’ll help where she can

She’ll def match outfits with you especially if you guys are the same size she’ll just wear your shit

Depending if you live amongst a dense population she’ll keep her face hidden in case anyone were to recognize her

If you live in a secluded village she’ll take off her mask more often and when the people get used to you guys she’ll keep it off

She can’t sew/patch up clothes for shit so if anything rips she’ll just stand there and watch you do it

You’d never have an actual wedding but the people of your community would totally come over if you guys hosted an informal relationship confirmation

“I’m grateful to take you as my wife.”

“And you as mine.”

Raiden the nosy bitch would obviously notice your presence no matter how much you try

Being EarthRealm’s protector ‘n all

Seeing as you guys are peaceful living he would only tell Kotal if Kotal asked for additional information

Pre-Shinok Raiden ofc

Overall she’ll defend you against the world all at the expense of you loving her

#mortal kombat #fanfic #fanfiction #x female reader #mortal kombat x reader #mileena #mileena x reader #Mileena x fem reader #x fem!reader #x feminine reader #mortal kombat x fem reader #mortal kombat x female reader #mortal kombat x feminine reader #dating headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #sfw #sfw headcanons

[hana-no-seiiki]

Okay, it may sound weird, but what if the manager is also an artist, like daft punk/Banksy? They are famous but also anonymous, and are just working for the idol/rockstar? They got popular during their time as a manager and they cannot quit because it would be too suspicious and so sudden, like they are waiting for the right moment to quit, hut until then, the are just going to be 'the manager' in public.

YAN! POP IDOL [EVE] x MANAGER/ARTIST! READER (ft. YAN! ROCKSTAR [FEROZE])

AAAA I ACTUALLY HAD THIS IDEA BUT WAS LIKE- WHAT IF GENIE’S READERS HATE ME FOR CHANGING THE MANAGER TOO MUCH- but bAH fuck it! HAVE THIS!! THE THREESOME SMUT WILL HAVE TO WAIT-

@moyazaika tagging you just so you’re informed and can add more on Feroze’s side if you’re free:

Anyways if you manage to be both an artist and manager at the same time, props to you for your god-like time management cause that’s honestly fucken commendable. Like manager-nim you’re actually a god at this point.

I imagined reader to be completely out of the genre FerozEve (are we surprised by who the top is at this point) in order for the double trouble makers not to find out immediately.

I don’t know how wide Feroze’s music tastes are but for Eve he practically listens to every genre. As a teen his favorite were the rockstar and ofc pop. He got into Hip-Hop/Trap through the main rapper from his group, and Kpop has a ton of genres mixed into it including but not limited to EDM, R&B and Punk Rock. Soon enough, he hears of this underground DJ who’s known for not only making fire music but being their own choreographer and VJ. Talk about being blessed by the gods.

You (and his bae Khan ofc) inspired him to create his own music and eventually go solo. He went undercover sometimes to send you tracks. You thought he was just a kid/teen since his early ones were kinda . . . not it, but was impressed by the amount of passion he put into improving.

Years later, your activity died down due to working on Feroze’s career more. Those exclusive interviews and world concert arrangements don’t do themselves yknow!

Eve was saddened by your lack of releases and performances but understood. Besides he had your manager persona in mind to obsess over.

The collab happens and you joined Eve to look over the tracks in the album. From the amount of iced americanos he’d down, you could tell he was super out of it and really needed rest BUT HE WOULDN’T GODDAMN LISTEN TO YOU-

*ahem*

So you decided to help him instead.

You gave minor pointers here and there really. Nothing much in your opinion.

But to Eve he was just in utter shock and awe. How come he didn’t think of that?? The synth really elevated that section of the chorus?? Why were you hiding this genius from him??

You explained that you wanted to be a producer for the company but since it ended up reducing your passion for music so you otped for a managerial position instead.

Eve isn’t even listening at this point. He just has heart eyes. Like he didn’t know he could fall further in love with you. Boy is whipped.

Overall Eve kinda do be dumb and dense so he wouldn’t figure it out. But I’d imagine the revelation to happen sort of like this:

You were helping out Eve with vocal arrangement one day, assisting with adlibs and what not when . . .

“I think it’d be better if you put this here, and double it.”

“Woah that sounds fire.” Eve’s eyes were glued at your focused face. You looked so adorable all focused like that. He was so close to jumping out the recording booth just to give you a big ol smooch.

At his approval you continued, “We could build it up more. I’ll punch you in here and you could do a lower note? Like this.” You played a section of the song, perfectly harmonizing with his voice like it was nothing, before turning to him for approval.

He was silent. Mouth slightly agape.

“Eve?”

“. . .”

Holy shit. You’re one of his favorite artists-

#yandere #hns.eve #yandere x reader #ferozeve #feroze khan #feroze #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere brainrot #yandere headcannons #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fic #yandere concept #yandere original character #brainrot #yandere scenario #yandere one shot

[ilovejuzi]

What MD ships are your least favourite? (Excluding cursed asf ones like Khan & Uzi ofc)

Vuzi, j x doll, and Vhad

#i dont like these #thst much #soz #speaking #ask

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

A Khan By Any Other Name

a prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness

mystery, suspense, danger ~ romance & NSFW material to follow

summary: Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world of world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars, and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because she lets her kind heart overrule her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiousity is piqued as much by his classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by its driver--a tall, dark, mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than he appears.

characters: Khan Noonien Singh (aka: John Harrison), Seraphina DiPietro (OC)

word count: 2.4k

Chapter One

Her first mistake had been slowing down to have a second look.  Three plus years with a vintage car enthusiast (her ex now, thank god; three months gone and good riddance to him, her mantra whenever he crossed her mind) had ingrained the habit in her. The habit, frankly, plus an appreciative eye for the sweetest of rides.  Thanks to Simon (and his obsession), she could distinguish in seconds between the genuine article and that which easily fooled the masses, a cunningly detailed replica—and the sleek ragtop that looked to have skidded to the side of the road, leaving a spray a gravel and black, burnt rubber in its tracks, was absolutely the real thing.

So she’d slowed down, only half meaning to, cataloguing the fine details and quickly estimating its worth, while admiring its classic lines and the bright flash of its chrome detailings.  Seraphina couldn’t keep from grinning, thinking about how instantly covetous Simon would be in the face of such a find, and how jealous he would feel to know that she had stumbled upon it with no effort whatsoever.

The man bending over the open hood

straightened as she passed, arresting her attention with a commanding, steely gaze that left her feeling like a marked woman.  As though he not only saw her, in her every visible feature, but somehow inexplicably knew her—and needed her.  Vitally, and immediately. Despite the lick of common sense apprehension that fluttered through her vitals, simple curiosity and a deeply embedded tendency to act the good Samaritan had Seraphina making her second, even bigger, mistake of the afternoon--pulling over to park her hovercraft several feet in front of his stalled vehicle.

She looked into her rearview mirror; he had turned to watch how she would proceed, holding his hands up with his fingers splayed wide, surely his way of expressing she could approach him safely.  “Not so fast, buddy,” she murmured, “I wasn’t born yesterday…and I’ve seen your kind before.” Sera cut the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition and flicking the lock mechanism off the small can of mace dangling from her keyring.  She wasn’t so foolhardy as to face the tall, well-built stranger unprepared; nearly a decade of travels up and down the coast of California, performing in seedy, small town dives, then upscale pubs and bars, and finally city nightclubs, had taught her well to be ever on her guard.

And she’d learned a few tricks in the course of her career, for if the mace should fail; she could—and had—flipped a drunk onto his back a time or two, who’d tried to cop a feel when she passed across a darkened dancefloor; and she knew all too well how much force was necessary, knee to groin, in order to incapacitate those pigheaded brutes who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when they followed her out to the parking lot at the end of a gig. Handsome he might be (decidedly so, she mused, angular features, piercing eyes, thick, dark hair, an errant lock strayed upon his brow; such a striking combination!) but she was not fool enough to ever judge the book by it’s cover.

The stranger stood motionless a moment more, the light breeze ruffling that wayward lock until he brushed it back, a swift yet languid move that spoke of cat-like grace and an elegance that didn’t fit the setting or the way that he was clothed.  He was straight-backed, slim-hipped, long-legged--and poised with a confidence befitting a prince, and not the work-a-day posture of a blue-collar joe or road-weary drifter.  Yet the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes; Sera found it a little feral, and felt her pulse increase as a taste of adrenaline—that trusty “fight or flee” response—hit her system.

But she was already committed, having left the safety and cool comfort of her two-seater; if he was an actual threat, the worse that she could do was show the weakness of timidity now. Sera left her sunglasses in place, determined he would not read a bit of doubt in her eyes or bearing, the can of mace tucked neatly in the palm of her left hand, and walking forward into the dry, baking, Mojave Desert heat.

Sera gave a low but audible whistle, advancing as casually as she could, finally calling out to him, "She's a real beauty--and someone's taken serious loving care of her too." The 300-year-old Mustang appeared as close to mint as any vintage vehicle she had ever seen; given its obvious value, she had to wonder why the hell he would even have it on the road--especially in desert conditions. That instinctive voice of warning sounded an answer in her head: that's because it's not his.

Okay, Sera, she cautioned herself, give him the benefit of the doubt; he could have come by that automobile in any number of ways. She stopped a half-dozen steps from where the stranger stood, aiming to read his reaction as she asked, "Early 21st century, right?"

The man smiled--more sincerely this time--and nodded. "That she is," he replied, sparing a brief look at the stalled car, "Unfortunately, she's not going anywhere, anytime soon." His smooth, deep voice was as pleasant to the ears as his form was easy on his eyes, and his accent distinctly British, leaving Sera to ponder how and why he'd found his way into the midst of the Mojave. "I believe it's the transmission," he added.

In an instant, his eyes flicked downward, as though he registered that small, innocuous movement. She rushed to fill the vacuum of silence that hung between them, hoping to distract him from whatever suspicions her little move might have awakened.  “I know collectors,” she told him, running her right hand through her hair, fluffing it a bit, hoping to draw his eyes upwards again “…fanatical ones, who would pay a small fortune to make such a treasure theirs.”  She leaned toward him, adopting a confidential tone, honest in her curiosity, “However did you manage it?”

Sera could hear the tick of the internal combustion engine as it cooled, informing her he hadn't been stranded long. Surveying the area behind the Mustang, she spotted several telltale puddles of transmission fluid in the car's wake. "Looks like you might've blown a hose," she speculated, indicating the fluid spotting the back trail. "Those kind of parts are few and far between these days...but I bet we can find a mechanic who might be able to juryrig something enough to get you on the road again."

She turned back to find him watching her, his exotic-looking eyes narrowed. Appraising her in a way that made her feel...exposed. Unnerved. Vulnerable. Sera squeezed her hand against the reassuring weight of the small, defensive weapon cupped in her palm.

He inhaled sharply, a fleeting look of calculation crossing his face.  “It was an unexpected…” he paused, studying her carefully, “…but well-timed acquisition of…convenience.”  Such a reply was far too vague to answer her question—but didn’t surprise her in the least.

“Then you must be a man of remarkable luck, Mr…” Sera let her voice trail off with the question, fully expecting there would be little truth in his answer.

And then he was moving past the safe cushion of space between them, extending a large, powerful looking hand towards her, as way of introduction. “Harrison. I’m…John Harrison.” His grip was firm, not too tight, but Sera sensed—felt—a strength restrained that fit his bearing perfectly. Intimidating, but not frightening; confident—and intriguing her beyond her good sense should allow; and his eyes were locked on her, regarding her with such curiosity and healthy appraisal, that she slipped her sunglasses atop her head without a moment’s hesitation, meaning to meet his gaze directly.  

Sera hadn’t realized she was staring until he cleared his throat. “And you are?” he asked, smiling warmly, surely feeling the advantage now of having gotten past her bravado.  Her mouth felt dry—it had to be the arid atmosphere and not embarrassment over her awkward reaction to him--so that her tongue actually stuck a moment before she stammered out her name. “Seraphina.”  She said it rather breathlessly, then bit her lip against revealing her surname.

Harrison had not released her hand, although his grip was gentle, and the warmth of his skin pleasant against her own.  “Seraphina,” he repeated, the small smile creases bracketing his mouth deepening, and a hint of his true smile finally reaching his eyes.  “Lovely name, Seraphina. Exotic in its way, and as rare and fetching as a desert rose.”

Ordinarily, Sera would laugh off such obvious flattery; she’d had enough of it--and insincere at that--throughout her years as a torch singer.  This stranger—John Harrison—looked a better class of man than those who usually tried to ply her with compliments.  That was no reason, of course, to take him more seriously than any of the others.  And yet she felt a sort of…solemnity…about him; a dignity and self-assurance that spoke of a far more purposeful life than those of plain, ordinary men. He was damned attractive too, enough to have her a bit flummoxed at so dear a distance.  

"Seraphina,” he reiterated, teasing the syllables along, the depth and richness of his voice making her shiver a little despite the desert heat. “A derivative of seraphim, the highest order of celestial beings in religious myth.  Heavenly, fiery, winged immortals, tasked with surrounding and praising the throne of god.”  He leaned nearer, well past that unspoken barrier of personal space, closing his eyes while inhaling deeply through his nose, seeming to seek her essence by scent alone.

Such unexpected intimacy left Seraphina speechless, every instinct she had telling her to give ground a step or two—yet she remained still, for when he opened his eyes, she found herself fascinated by their changing hue. Seraphina had never seen such striking eyes on a man before; and she’d have sworn that they were blue.  Pale blue when she’d seen them from a distance, in the bright, unfiltered sun; then a surprising, piercing, azure when she met him face to face.  Now they seem to shift unpredictably from purely blue to nearly green with however the light played upon them, with flecks of gold speckling around the pupils.

“I wonder,” he mused, almost to himself, while Sera remained entranced and silent, unable to look away despite knowing she must look utterly foolish, “Might you be the angel of mercy I’m in such desperate need of?”

Befuddled, Sera sputtered back, "I...um...what?", finally taking a step back and pulling her hand from his grasp.

"I mean to say how fortunate I am, you came along precisely as you did. " Harrison shrugged and took a step back as well, his manner self-effacing enough to lend sincerity to his words. "And that your nature is a kind one--I imagine most women would have cruised by without a care for my predicament, given this isolated location and the potential threat I could embody."

Regaining her composure, Sera lifted her chin proudly, "I've managed to look after myself for many years now, and in dodgier situations." Her usual insoucience restored, she asked the most vital of questions, looking him squarely in the eyes to read the truth before he even answered, "Do I have reason to fear for my safety, Mr. Harrison?"

His eyes widened and he grinned, and then he began to laugh. Heartfelt, and deep in his throat; the rich sound of melted, dark chocolate--the rare sort of sweet that was supposed to be healthy for one, but only if consumed in moderation. A woman could lose herself in such a laugh, she realized, and I'll bet he knows it too.

"If there was any reason at all, you've quite disarmed me already." Now it seemed he was sizing her up beyond first impressions--and liking what he saw, by the look of satisfaction on his face. "I promise you, Ms..."

"It's just Seraphina for now please, if it's all the same to you. " Sera pressed her lips thin against the smile that wanted to break forth, enjoying both his unspoken surprise at her overall boldness--and what she dared to believe was an appreciation for her physical charms.

Harrison acquiesced with a tilt of his head. "Then I promise you, pretty Seraphina, that I harbor no ill intent towards you. And I would be deeply indebted to you for the aid I am sure you intend to offer me."

She felt her cheeks flush at his easy compliment--not taken in, but happy to accept it nonetheless. "Well, it's a shame to have to abandon her here, but the closest hope you have for a spare part--and a mechanic with working knowledge of antique cars--is at least a hundred miles away."

"Alright then," he affirmed, moving past her to slam shut the Mustang's hood, "We should probably be on our way."

"Of course." Sera turned to follow him, wanting a closer look at the rare vehicle before they drove away. "You should put the top up too; you may not make it back here until tomorrow at least."

He nodded again, striding to the driver's side door to start the car and raise the top. Something not quite right here, she thought, frowning; I could swear that this model and the ones that followed, had a remote on the key fob to control the mechanism. It reminded her that she'd initially thought the car did not belong to him--and that somehow she had allowed his charm cause her to lower her guard.

She stepped to the passenger side, hoping for a peek inside to confirm her growing suspicion. "You ought to raise the windows, too," she told him, leaning close enough to peer inside the passenger side window, "No telling what might find its way inside here once darkness falls. It gets pretty cold here at night..." Sera swallowed hard when she got a look at the ignition cylinder; it had been removed from its place beneath the steering wheel and hung down by several wires. The wires themselves appeared to have been rearranged.

Her heart in her throat, Seraphina searched her memory for the word to describe exactly what she was seeing. Hotwired. That's what they called it; a quick and easy way to boost a car. Simon had educated her, marveling at the skill of those he'd read about who could do do in under a minute. She'd never dreamed of seeing something like it up close. Yet there it was, and the man who'd done it clearly hadn't wanted her to see it. Which meant...

He was faster than her by far; almost preternaturally fast. Harrison had grabbed her left arm ( --- damn, he had noted she was carrying something there! --- ) through the window opening, his iron grip digging into her flesh painfully. "Drop it," he ordered her, "Drop it now. I can explain everything if you just remain calm, Seraphina."

She didn't mean to, but she whimpered softly, not only at the discomfort he was inflicting, but also for the cold menace in his eyes. Had she thought them beautiful, compelling, alluring, just moments ago? Now it seemed to her they were the deadliest eyes she had seen in her life.

(to be continued)

#my writing #A Khan By Any Other Name #mystery #danger #Star Trek: Into Darkness #Star Trek Into Darkness #Khan #my dark magnificent prince #John Harrison #Seraphina DiPietro #OFC #OC #Khan x OFC #Khan xOC #star trek aos fan fiction #star trek fan fiction #star trek fanfiction #star trek aos fanfiction #khan fan fiction #khan fanfiction #Khan Noonien Singh #Khanbatch #Benedict Cumberbatch #My Muse #My Constant Muse

[dreamii-krybaby]

I love SilverLily (Khan X Nori) because not only it got heavy angst, it got “girlboss” x “guyfailure”, it got Morticia and Gomez Addams vibes.

But bc it’s literally

Unhinged, “quirky”, charismatic, woman who literally caused a genocide and probably feasted on corpses, a literal goddess <3

And then we got

✨Pringles man✨

PS: btw I love both Khan and Nori, I think both are fun characters. And Khan is underrated imo and I don’t understand why ppl still keep hating him like bro- he is trying to be better. I do hope we get to see more of him apart from his relationship with Nori. Tho I am very excited if we get info regarding their dynamic. And ofc am going to explode (in a good way) once we get more Nori content

#nori x khan #khan x nori #nori doorman murder drones #murder drones nori doorman #nori doorman #nori doorman md #md nori doorman #murder drones nori #nori murder drones #nori md #md nori #silverlily #murder drones Silverlily #khan doorman murder drones #murder drones khan doorman #md khan doorman #khan doorman md #khan doorman #khan murder drones #md khan #murder drones khan #khan md #murder drones

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 17

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: profanity, small mentions of blood and gun violence. Because this a deviation from the original series, this fic will include more tie-in's to Extraction 2 and characters and events mentioned in the movie :)

Tagging: @thebewingedjewelcat @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @timbradfordsboot @karimac @residentdormouse @asirensrage @thesirenrealm @kmc1989 @starryeyes2000 @ninjasawakenedmystar @arrthurpendragon @occommunity @ocappreciationtag​

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you’d like to be added.

Link to Ao3: 

Also, HUGE thanks to @joeysjaskier​ who gave me a lovely pep talk today and got the fire lit under the muse’s butt! <3 <3 <3

***** 

“Tyler!”

He only has one foot in the hallway when Esme calls out to him; still clad in her pyjamas as she races down the hall in her bare feet. And he turns to her with a still trembling, tearful Millie cradled securely in his arms; thumb firmly planted in her mouth and her free hand tightly clutching his shirt. The four-year-old adamantly refusing to be parted from him; shrieking in protest and kicking and flailing when Nik had attempted to peel her away so the merc doctor could give her a once over. While she’s calmed considerably in the span of the last twenty minutes, the trauma is still fresh; startling easily and jumping and whimpering at any loud, sudden noise. Being reunited with Fredrick and Posie had helped; cuddles with her ‘babies’ gave her a sense of normalcy and comfort amongst the chaos.

“Are you alright?” Sheer panic lingers in Esme’s voice and on her face; eyes still wild with fear, her hand trembling as she reaches out and places it upon his arm. “One minute you were talking and then the next I heard the gunshot and then Millie was screaming and then…I just…” She struggles to hold back the tears. “...I didn’t know what to do…it sounded like machine gun fire and Millie kept screaming and you were trying to calm her down and I ran out and I got Nik and…”

“Just breathe, Me. Just breathe.”

“I was so scared. I didn’t know what was going on. And then your phone just disconnected and I had no clue what was happening…”

“You need to take a breath,” he gently orders. “Last thing I need is you hyperventilating and passing out on me. Everything’s okay. SHE’S okay.”

“You’re bleeding.” Reaching up, she uses two fingers to swipe at the crimson that trickles slowly down his left cheek.

“I’ve had worse. You’ve SEEN worse. It’s just from glass. Nothing serious. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

Briefly closing her eyes, she takes in a shaky breath and releases it slowly; gathering her emotions and attempting to calm her frayed nerves before turning her attention to her daughter. “Millie…oh God Millie…” Running a hand over the four-year-old’s hair, she presses kisses to her cheeks and brow. “...I was so worried about you. I was so scared. That something horrible happened to you.”

“I’m okay, momma.” She reaches for Esme and finds herself quickly gathered into safe and loving arms; her own circling her mother’s neck before placing her head upon her shoulder. “I’m not hurt. Just a little spooked.” “I’d be spooked too. You’re so brave, Millie. You are so brave and so strong. And I’m so sorry you’re going through all of this. I never meant for this to happen. For you to get hurt. It’s the last thing I ever wanted…” Her eyes close once again; the back of Millie’s head cradled in her palm. “...I am sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, momma. It’s not your fault there’s bad people out there.”

“I’m supposed to protect you. I’m supposed to take care of you. I..”

“She’s fine,” Tyler gently interjects, recognizing the signs of her anxiety beginning to set in. Guilt based of course; the constant berating of herself for ever agreeing to the DiTomasso job and putting Millie at risk. “Scared, but fine. She’s a tough little thing. Like her mum.”

“Small but mighty,” Millie declares and flexes a bicep. “I really AM okay, momma. Just spooked. I’m not hurt or anything. But…” She pouts as she glances down at her pyjama bottoms. “...you might be mad. I had an accident.”

“Why would I be mad about that? It’s nothing I can’t clean up. And you have tons of fresh jammies and clothes to wear. When we get back to the room we’ll take a bath. Get freshened up. But right now? Right now I just want to squeeze you and hold you, okay?”

Nodding, she tightens her hold on Esme’s neck and wraps her legs around her torso as Tyler stands nearby, silently watching them together. Observing the way Esme’s hands lock together under Millie’s bum and her eyes close; commencing that soft, soothing humming as her body sways rhythmically from side to side. Millie -all long torso and spindly arms and legs compared to her mother’s short, petite stature- comforted by the familiar voice and the scent that clings to Esme’s clothing and hair.

There’s a profound level of trust that exists between mother and daughter; the latter knowing that she’s in safe and capable hands and would never be harmed in any way, shape, or form. Esme possessing a love and adoration for her little one that is entirely unmatched; years spent dreaming of having a child of her own to cherish and protect and nurture finally coming to fruition. And he thinks of what Abuela had told him the morning before; about how lucky he was that his child was blessed with the mother she was given. A woman who despite the enormity of a complicated and frightening situation, had been determined to not only go through with the pregnancy but had since devoted her entire life…her entire BEING…to caring for her baby.

HIS baby.

Years ago, when they’d decided that marriage and children were a direction they wanted to travel in, he’d imagined what it would be like; watching Esme become a mother and loving and caring for the little humans they managed to create together. And while it’s bittersweet that he’d missed both the pregnancy and Millie’s baby and toddler days, it’s still an incredible thing to witness; the love of your life adoring and tending to the child that you’d had a hand in making. And despite the terror they’d all just lived through and her messy hair and wrinkled pyjamas, she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Momma?”

Esme’s eyes flicker open, and she presses a kiss to Millie’s temple. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I love you and I don’t want to hurt your feelings. But…” Pulling back, she gives a sheepish smile. “...can I go back to Tyler now? It’s just that…”

“He’s a lot bigger and stronger and makes you feel warm and safe, right?”

The four-year-old nods.

Pressing a kiss to her daughter’s like, a tender smile plays on her lips as she glances up at him. “I know what you mean. He makes me feel the same way.”

Returning the smile, he uses gentle fingertips to clear wayward strands of hair away from her the sides of her face and loops others behind her ears. Accepting Millie when she reaches out for him; a forearm across the back of her legs, palm on her back as she rests her head upon his shoulder once more. “Feeling a little better? A little less spooked?”

“A little.”

Perching herself on her tiptoes, Esme tends to clearing more blood from his cheek. “Are you sure YOU’RE alright?”

“I’m fine. Nothing I can’t patch up on my own when we get back to the room. You’re okay?”

“Not really,” she admits. “Still feels like my heart’s going to jump right out of my chest. If anything happened to you guys…”

“But nothing DID. We’re okay.”

Laying a hand on the back of her neck, he pulls her into him; fingers deftly massaging at the tense muscles as she tucks herself into his side and wraps both arms around his torso. And for several minutes they stand in silence, listening to the noise that emanates from within the destroyed hotel room; Nik -in full, no-nonsense boss mode- giving stern orders to both those employees present and those relying on two-way radio for communication. There’s an anger that simmers on the surface; the realization that the safest and most secure place in New York City has suddenly become anything but. It had been way too close for comfort; almost losing her best mercenary and her niece. And she’s on the warpath; wanting both an explanation and blood.

******

“I think I managed to grab anything,” Nik says, as she emerges from the room, her sidearm in one hand, Tyler’s tattered and weathered military rucksack in the other. “I’m assuming just the one bag?”

“Not like I need a lot.”

“As usual…” She holsters her sidearm. “... you travel extremely light.”

“Just enough to get me through a few days.”

“And you…” Nik turns to Esme. “...I thought I told you to stay where you were? That I’d let you know what was going on?”

“When you didn’t call after half an hour…”

“It hasn’t even been twenty minutes since I came down here. You should have listened to me. For your own safety. We don’t know who did this or where they could be hiding. Every window you pass by? An open invitation for a sniper to take a shot.”

“If it’s any consolation, I took the stairs. No windows in the stairwells.”

“Because you being in a relatively confined space that’s used by everyone in here just makes me feel so much better. For all we know, they could be IN the building. We can no longer consider this a safe haven. And for you to just be wandering around on your own…”

“Nik, she’s fine,” Tyler speaks up. “She knows how to keep herself safe. And how to fight back. IF she needs to. She’s in this life too; she’s not just someone off the street that doesn’t know the ins and outs.”

“Which is exactly why I am being so strict about this. She ISN’T just someone off the street. A stranger that’s hired us. It’s personal. It isn’t just your family being threatened, Tyler. It’s mine too. Every decision I’m making is what I consider best for them. And that includes you. Whether you want me to be your family or not.”

“I never said that, Nik. That I don’t want you to be. And you’re right, this is a family. All of us. It’s a fucked up one, but…”

“Tyler!” Millie scolds, then giggles. “That’s the REALLY bad word.”

“What’s the really bad word?”

“You know…THAT word…the really naughty one.”

“What word’s that?”

“The really, really, REALLY bad one. That gets me put into time out.”

“Family?”

“No! The other F word!”

“Hmmmm….I don’t remember using another F word….”

“Goodness gracious,” she huffs in exasperation, then cups a hand over his ear and whispers, “THE F word. The naughty one. FUCK. Ooops…” Pulling away, she gives a sheepish cringe. “...sorry.”

Chuckling, he runs a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to her brow. “I totally set you up for that. And you totally fell for it. You’re right; that is a really naughty word. I need to be more careful around little ears. Although your mum’s are pretty tiny and she swears more than I do.”

Esme pinches his side. “As if!”

“You do swear a lot, mom. I mean, where do you think I hear the bad words? Auntie Nik…” Millie tips her head back in order to address her. “...did you find them? Did you find the bad guys?”

“Not yet. But I’ve got a lot of people looking for them. They won’t try to hurt you again. They won’t even get the chance. “ She gives Abuela and a heavily armed guard nods in greeting as they exit the room, then turns back to Millie. “Do you think you could do me a favour? Could you go with AB and Geoff? Back to the suite?”

“Do I have to? I want to stay with momma. And Tyler.”

“I would appreciate it if you went back. I need to talk about some things with your mom and Tyler. And they’re not things that you need to hear. “

“About the bad guys?”

Nik nods.

“We’ll be upstairs as soon as we’re done here,” Esme assures her daughter. ‘It won’t be long. Go with AB; she can get you into the tub and then get some fresh clothes on you. Maybe you can take a little nap?”

“I’m not tired though. Just my tum’s a little upset. From being scared.”

“Well when I get back, I’ll order some warm milk from room service. That always makes you feel better. And if you’re up to it, we can order room service?”

“Do you think they’ll send pancakes? Tyler and I wanted pancakes. He’s going to try strawberry jam on them this time.”

“I think the kitchen will send anything your little heart desires, sweet pea. But for now…” She presses a kiss to her little one’s forehead. “...you go with Abuela. Tyler and I will be there soon.”

“Promise?”

“I do.”

Millie tugs at some of the hair at the underside of Tyler’s chin. “You promise, too?”

“Of course. And have I broken a promise to you yet?”

“Nope!”

“Go on.” Pecking her cheek, he affectionately tousles her hair before handing her off to Abuela. “Your mum and I won’t be too long.” Tyler rests a comforting yet protective hand on the back of Esme’s neck as they watch the armed guard escort Abuela and Millie to the elevator. Esme offers her daughter a reassuring smile when the four-year-old glances nervously over her nanny’s shoulder, then blows her a kiss that the little girl catches with a giggle and returns with one of her own.

Esme shivers. She feels nauseous and lightheaded and her nerves are shot; her shoulders tense and her jaw and stomach clenched painfully tight. And it’s Nik that first notices the tear-filled eyes and trembling chin.

“You going to be okay?”

“I don’t know that. That was way too close for comfort. When I heard all those gunshots and Millie screaming…”

As Tyler pulls her into him, she responds by wrapping both arms around his waist; her eyes closing as she rests her forehead against his chest. His hands alternate between rubbing her back in smooth, comforting circles and running slowly up and down her arm; lips against her temple as he whispers words of reassurance and love as she begins to relax.

It’s a side of him Nik has never seen before; the low, soft tone and the open display of comfort. Such a far cry from the man that had been so starved of touch as a child and well into his adulthood that he’d once been uncomfortable with anyone showing him affection. Always unsure of how to accept and return those moments, Esme had worked patiently and diligently with him; helping him shed layers of toxic masculinity to allow someone to love and care for him.

“So what now?” Esme asks as she steps to Tyler’s side; arm around his waist and a hand on his stomach. “Now that we can’t even feel safe here.”

“First, I’m going to bust some fucking heads,” Nik replies. “I’m going to find out who slipped up and deal with them. And it won’t be pleasant. Or pretty.”

“You think it’s someone on the team?” Tyler asks. “ Maybe they fell asleep at the wheel and…”

“I don’t have people that just ‘fall asleep at the wheel’. And no one would double-cross me. They know better. This has nothing to do with the team.”

“Someone inside The Continental,” he concludes. “That wouldn’t think twice about breaking confidentiality. Who thinks the rules don’t apply to them.”

Nik nods. “Because they’re the ones responsible for making them. And enforcing them. When you’re both running the establishment AND you have a seat at The High Table…”

“You really think Winston would stoop to this level?” Esme pipes up. “That he’d go to these lengths to get rid of Tyler? I know things aren’t exactly sunshine and roses between the two of them, but…”

“He offered Tyler double his payout to not only bring you and Millie back here when the job was finished, but to walk away and stay away,” Nik reasons. “That’s a pretty low level to stoop to. And I imagine it didn’t sit well; when Tyler turned the offer down. It’s not every day someone would say no to twenty million dollars.”

“Tyler isn’t that type of person. He’d never agree to something like that. If he said ‘no’ to Asif’s offer before we even really knew each other he’s not going to say ‘yes’ to Winston. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not when we’ve just found our way back to each other. And certainly not with Millie in the picture.”

“Winston isn’t used to someone saying ‘no’ to him,” Nik reasons. “He already doesn’t like Tyler. For whatever bullshit reason he has inside his head. So to have his ‘generous’ offer turned down…”

“He made it pretty damn clear that he wants me out of the picture,” Tyler adds. “ Permanently. And that he thinks Esme and Millie would be better off without me around. That the only way they’ll have a decent life is if I’m not in it.”

Esme scowls. “That’s bullshit. My life has been miserable. For FIVE YEARS. And Millie deserves to know her dad. To have him around as much as possible. For us to give her some normalcy. A family, even.”

“Well he doesn’t think I’m the right guy for all of that, so…”

“You’re the perfect guy for all of that. Perfect for us, anyway. Do you really think he’s behind this? That he’d stoop to this level?”

“Like I said, he made it pretty clear that wanted me gone. Even if it meant taking me out PERMANENTLY.”

“All because you turned down his offer? What does he think it would do? If you DID walk away? Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“He’s got it in his head that he’s going to keep you and Millie locked up here. That it’s the only way you both get the life you deserve.”

“By keeping us prisoner? That makes no sense. This is the last place I want to be. Especially for the rest of my life. And Millie deserves so much better than that; she deserves a mom and a dad and a backyard to play in and a dog to run around with all that normal, everyday stuff that kids should grow up with.”

“He’s pretty determined to get Tyler away from you,” Nik says. “It’s why he fought so hard; when you first brought up hiring Tyler for this job. It’s why he tried to talk you out of it. More than once.”

“This is just far too weird for me to even begin to process. I’ve never gotten anything other than a father vibe from him. I’ve never caught him checking me out, he’s never flirted or propositioned me or made me question his motives.”

“You’ve probably been so caught up in keeping Millie happy and healthy that you never noticed those things. Because it’s been more than obvious to everyone else. And by the sounds of it, he made it pretty obvious to Tyler yesterday.”

“But to take it THIS far? Get a sniper to take him out? That’s not Winston’s style. He’s part of The High Table. And they’re known for doing things face to face.”

“Even if he didn’t hire the sniper, he’s likely the one who let it slip what room Tyler is staying in. He’s not registered in the system under his real name; I made sure of it. Only Winston and Charon know his real identity. And I think it’s safe to say that Charon isn’t going around handing out that information.’

“He’s the only one around here I DO trust,” Tyler says. “He’s never given me a reason not to. Winston on the other hand…”

“What happened during your talk with Alessio?” Nik addresses Esme. “It didn’t sound like things got heated. Why did he want to see you? What did he say?”

“Well, he claimed he originally came here to offer some help. To get Millie and me out of the city. Keep us under his family’s radar. But…”

Nik arches an eyebrow. “But?”

“Seeing Tyler and I together set him off. And it’s not like you can’t notice Tyler and Millie are related. It’s pretty obvious. It all just made him snap, I guess. My real life just tossed in his face like that.”

“And?”

“And he had a little freakout and went off on me. Dragged me to hell and back for using him all this time. For lying about who I was and what I was up to and how I felt about him. And add in accepting his proposal without ever intending to actually marry him…”

Tyler clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s uncomfortable; hearing about her life with another man, whether fake or not. The thought of anyone touching or kissing her or making love to her makes him nauseous. And causes a mixture of anger and jealousy to begin to simmer.

“I mean, I get it,” Esme continues. “It’s a kick in the nuts; finding out that someone conned you THAT hardcore. ANYONE would be hurt. You spend all that time devoting yourself to someone and sharing your life with them and then you find out it was all bullshit? All in all, he actually took it better than I thought he would.”

“Did he give any indication he was going to come after you? Or Millie? Or Tyler?”

“Alessio talks big and bad, but he’s a pussy. He’s scared of his own shadow. Which is why daddy and his brothers are able to brainwash him so easily. He wouldn’t lay a finger on me or Millie. And I can guarantee he’s scared shitless of Tyler.”

“What about threats? Did he threaten to get people after you? Or Tyler?”

“I mean, it was nothing I haven’t heard before. You know, the standard ‘you don’t know you’ve messed with’ bullshit. But nothing that scared me. It was tame; considering some of the things people have said and done to me when they’ve found out they’ve been played.”

“Do you think he’d be capable of something like this? That he would organize a hit?”

“Not on his own. I spent eight months with the man. Trust me when I say he’s as soft as fresh baby shit. In more ways than one.”

Nik smirks.

“But his family is more than capable of something like this. They have a lot of people on their payroll; former military marksmen, hitmen, mercenaries. You name it. All Alessio would have to do is go whining to one of his brothers and his daddy and they’d do whatever it takes to defend his honour.”

“And you said he went from wanting to help to just snapping? All because he saw you with Tyler and put two and two together?”

“I mean, you can tell Tyler is Millie’s dad. She looks just like him. No one could possibly deny that she belongs to him. And I obviously told Alessio about some of my past; you don’t get through eight months without letting a couple secrets slip.”

“What exactly DID you tell him?”

“It was very vague. Just that things fell apart; between Millie’s dad and me. And that it was all my fault; that I hurt him and I haven’t seen or spoken to him in almost five years. That’s it. I didn’t go into detail and I didn’t feel like he needed to know more than that. It’s personal. Alessio was business. He didn’t need to know anything about the real Esme.”

“You really think that’s what led to this?” Tyler nods towards the destroyed hotel room. “Kind of extreme, isn’t it?”

Nik sighs. “I think jealousy is a hell of a powerful thing.”

“But how would he know what room Tyler was staying in?” Esme inquires. “I didn’t even tell him Tyler’s last name.”

“It would be easy to find out. Just go to Winston and ask. And seeing as Winston has an axe to grind…”

“I highly doubt Winston would take part in a hit on Tyler. He doesn’t need people to do his dirty work. The High Table has a way of getting things done. And none of those include using outsiders to do your bidding.”

“Maybe he lied; told Winston he wanted to talk with Tyler. About wanting to help. As much as I can’t stand the man and he’s way out of line with the offer he made, I have a hard time believing he’d go along with plans to kill Tyler. Like you said, he’d just do it himself.”

“So if Alessio was just being a jealous, whiny little bitch baby and went to daddy about it…”

“It kills two birds with one stone. Killing Tyler just doesn’t hurt you on a personal level, but it also leaves you vulnerable. The person hired to protect you is out of the equation.”

“But what about Millie?” Tyler asks. “Why go after her? She’s just a baby still. She’s innocent in all of this.”

“Alessio would NOT tell someone to kill Millie.” Esme assures him. “They didn’t have the best relationship and he was an asshole to her at the best of times, but there is no way he’d EVER do something like that.”

“But his family would.” Tyler points out. “They didn’t care that she was at the house. The night they came to take you out. They didn’t care about her then, did they.”

“I think Millie was a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time’,” Nik admits. “The shooter…”

“Shooters,” Tyler corrects. “There was more than one. The first two shots were a rifle; long range, high power, semi-automatic. There was a gap; between the initial shot and the one after. I’m guessing it was an M40.” He shrugs when Esme and Nik both look up at him; heads tilted to the side in curiosity. “I used one. A lot. In Afghanistan. When I got into SASR. Guess you could say it was kinda my specialty.”

Nik nods in understanding. “And the second?”

“Fully automatic. Belt fed. There’s a distinct difference between that and one that uses a clip; in the frequency of the shots and the sound when it’s firing. Maybe a M240. They’re the most popular.”

“And both are easy to get on the black market. Esme, do you have any names? Outside of the family? That they’d hire for this sort of thing? Was anyone ever mentioned or…?”

“No. That kind of thing was never talked about around me. They let loose a few of their secrets, but nothing like that. There might be something in those files I got for you. The ones I got out of the old man’s study.”

Tyler arches a quizzical brow.

“Alessio’s father has an entire wall of safes in his study,” Esme explains. “They’re all controlled through different passwords. Normally state of the art, but he skimped when it came to proper, secure storage for the passwords themselves. Yaz was able to get into his computer and track them down. Once I had all the codes, it was easy. I just went in and helped myself. Took everything I needed.”

Nik grins at Tyler. “Impressive, right? Not just a pretty face.”

“Yeah…” Smiling down at Esme, he gives her a wink. “...but I already knew THAT.”

“I’ll go back through those files. Comb through with a fine tooth comb. Something tells me I might recognize some of the names. If I do, I might be able to figure out who has the skill to try and pull something like this off.”

“I still don’t know why they’d go after Millie,” Esme says. “She’s the innocent one in all of this. Why a child? Why…?”

“Like I said, wrong place, wrong time. They were lying in wait; until Tyler finally returned to his room. They had no idea she’d be with him.”

“But they would have seen her, right? She was IN the room. How do you not see a little kid?”

“They weren’t exactly looking for one,” Tyler says; not wishing to further upset her by mentioning that the scope had been trained dangerously close to their daughter. “And they definitely weren’t expecting one. She just happened to be there. Unfortunately.”

“Did you see anything? Get a look at anyone? I know it came from across the street, but…”

“I didn’t have time. It all happened so fast. All I was thinking about was keeping Millie safe. That’s all that mattered to me. If anything had happened to her…”

Giving him a tender, sympathetic smile, Esme presses a kiss to his bicep before hugging his arm with both of hers. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Nik promises. “I’ll find out exactly what happened. And who pulled those triggers.”

“I’m going to completely lose my shit on Winston,” Esme declares. “I am going to go and track him down and I’m going to…”

“I think it’s better if you don’t,” Nik advises. “I know what you’re like; when your emotions get the better of you. If you lose control and start accusing him, it’s only going to make things worse. He’s already out for blood.”

“Yeah,” Tyler smirks. “Mine.”

“So let’s hold off on saying anything to him. It’s for the best; if you just lie low. Just let me do MY thing. I’ve got guys across the street combing through the building the shots came from. I’ve also got John Wick coming back into the city; he’ll pick Yaz up at the airport. He wants to help; in any way that he can. And I think it’s best to let him; we need as many hands on deck as possible.”

“And what about for now?” Tyler inquires. “What do you need me to do?”

“I want you to take Esme back to the suite. And once you’re there, I want you to stay there. Clean yourself up. Get something to eat. Spend some time with your family. Because it won’t be very long until it becomes all business. We need to get on this. As soon as possible.”

“I need to get them the hell out of here, Nik. Sooner than later.”

“And that’s something we can talk about. All of us. There’s a team meeting in a few hours. Maybe get some rest before then. I have a feeling things are going to get worse before they get better. They’re going to get crazy. So try and enjoy what’s left of the non-work stuff.”

“We should go,” Esme tugs on his arm in encouragement. “Nik has everything under control. She didn’t need us. Let’s just go back to the suite and check on Millie. Spend some with her. Because things are going to get very real, very soon.”

Nik’s tone is forceful. Stern. “Spend time with your family, Tyler. You just discovered that you have one. Enjoy it. Until I need the OTHER Tyler.”

He nods in understanding.

“And you…” Nik pulls Esme into a tight embrace. “...I can’t even begin to imagine how terrified you must have been. Hearing what you did. But it’s over now. And Millie is safe. They’re BOTH safe.”

“That was way too close, Nik. I could have lost everything. Just like that. If anything had happened to either one of them or both of them…”

“But they’re fine. And you need to keep reminding yourself of that. They’re fine and they’re safe. And there’s a lot of people who are going to help make it stay that way.”

*****

Esme cuddles a freshly bathed Millie in the middle of the queen-sized bed until -despite her protests that she wasn’t exhausted from her ordeal- she falls into a deep and comfortable sleep. The nightmare that had occurred and the uncertainty of the immediate future prompted her to soak up every second of their time together; both arms wrapped around Millie as she lay snuggled tightly against her, thumb still planted firmly in her mouth. She’d attempted to get her daughter to talk about what happened; acknowledging how scared she must have been and gently pointing out that it may bother her for some time. That she may even start to have nightmares. Perhaps chatting about it would help ward off those things? But Millie had remained steadfast; declaring that she was a big girl and announcing that she was strong and brave and that she’d be just ‘a-okay’. In turn, Esme had let it be; knowing that pushing the subject would only cause her daughter to shut down even more. Four years old and already stubborn to a fault.

However, she had let Millie know that if she ever DID want to get things off her chest, all she had to do was be open and honest. Promising that there’d be no judgement or ridicule; that they’d fix things TOGETHER. Placated and finally yawning and rubbing at her eyes; it had only taken the help of a story and two performances of ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by The Beatles before Millie managed to drift off; emotionally exhausted from the terror she’d experienced just an hour before. And before she departs, she holds her daughter's face in hands and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead; whispering an "I love you. Bunches' and then gently plucking the thumb out of Millie's mouth before gingerly slipping from the bed.

She finds Tyler in the living room; sitting on the edge of the couch with an open merc medical bag in front of him; contents spread across the top of the coffee table as he searches for the proper supplies. And he glances up when he hears the click of the bedroom door; offering a smile as she steps out and shut softly closes it behind her.

“She asleep?”

Esme nods. “Little Miss ‘I’m not sweepy’ is out like a light. Mind you, it took some hard work on my part; a story and singing her favourite song.”

“She’ll probably have nightmares for sure now. I’ve heard your singing voice.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when you were in the hospital. After Dhaka. I used to sing to you all the time. You never complained then. You always listened.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I was in a coma.”

“Admit it, you enjoyed it.”

“I enjoyed it so much that almost immediately after I woke up, I told you to never do it again.”

“You’re such a fucking liar! You said no such thing.”

“Not out loud. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You might have turned around and put some kind of poison in my IV.”

“I’m starting to wish I had!” Snatching one of the throw cushions off the couch, she lightly smacks him upside the head with it. “You prick.”

“I’ll admit…” He frowns as she plucks a package of sterile cleaning pads and a bottle of saline out of his hands. “...your singing wasn’t THAT bad. What I remember of it, anyway.”.

“You remembered the song I sang. You mentioned it; not long after you came out of things.” Pushing the medical kit aside, she pulls the coffee table closer to the couch and the perches on the edge.

“Beatles, yeah?”

“Here Comes the Sun. My dad used to sing it to me. When I was little. Always right before bed. And if I woke up from a nightmare. It always did the trick; he’d sing that song and draw circles on my back and everything would seem right in the world again.”

“You never told me that. About him singing that to you.”

“I guess it never occurred to me. But it seemed fitting; considering things looked pretty dark and you and I both needed a little light and a whole lot of optimism. The words are perfect, don’t you think?”

“What I remember of them.”

“I sing it to Millie.” She rummages through the medical pack; searching for a box of sterile strips that will keep his larger wounds closed. “ I started doing it when I was pregnant with her, actually. When she’d be having an extra crazy night; keeping me up all hours with her squirming and moving around. She was pretty rambunctious even then. And she could kick! Almost brought me to my knees a few times. Even now she’s crazy strong. Like her dad.”

“Actually, I think her mum has me beat in that department.”

“You’re the strongest person I know, Tyler. That I’ve EVER known. Physically AND mentally. Everything that you’ve been through? Right from the time you were nine years old? All of that and here you are. Still going. A weaker man would have broken a long time ago.”

“I’ve had my moments, believe me. Especially in that first year after you…” His words trail off as he notices the instant change in her demeanour; her shoulders and jaw tensing, eyes welling with tears as she chews on her bottom lip. “...I’m sorry. That was an asshole move. Bringing that up. I never…”

“You have every right. It’s not something that’s going to be easy to get over. We’re both going to struggle; for very different reasons. And we’re going to have to talk about it. We can’t just let it build up and build. That’ll only lead to bad things. And that’s the last thing I want.”

“I don’t want that. At all. But this is not the time for this. To be talking about bad stuff. It’s been a rough enough day, don’t you think?”

“And it’s not even half over yet.”

“I’m sorry.” Running his hands along her thighs, he leans in and presses a kiss to her brow. “I didn’t mean to stir something up. Can we just let it go? For now?”

“I’m not mad at you, Tyler. Anything you have to say is completely valid. And warranted. Believe me, I know I deserve it. And…”

“Can we just let it go?” He sternly repeats. “Please?”

Nodding in agreement, she manages a small smile and then turns her attention to the supplies laid out beside her. “If I’m being totally honest…” She cracks open the lid on the saline and then squirts a healthy amount onto one of the sterile gauze pads. “...I didn’t just sing the song for Millie’s benefit. I also did it for myself. It helped me get through some really bad times. I mean, I missed you every second of every day, but some were way worse than others. There were tons of times I just wanted to give up; I was lonely and miserable and I didn’t want to do life without you. And every time I sang that song…I don’t know…I guess it made me feel closer to you. Like there was still this connection. Sounds weird, huh? Pretty ridiculous.”

“Doesn’t sound weird or ridiculous at all. Hey…” He captures her hand when she reaches for his face. “...what are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.”

“You should be taking care of yourself. Grab something to eat. Take a bath. Nap with Millie.”

“I’ll do all three of those when I’m good and ready. But right now, there’s other things to tend to.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t. But I WANT to. Just give me this, okay? Please? I NEED this.”

Tyler relents; hands remaining on her thighs, eyes closing as she begins gently cleaning the handful of wounds that mar his forehead, the side of his nose, and the tops of his cheeks. It brings back memories; six years ago in Dhaka, hunkered down in the warehouse. When she’d used whatever supplies she could get her hands on to tend to him. Employing paper towels and foul, musty-smelling water to clear away the blood, then relying on hand sanitizer to disinfect abrasions and carpenter’s glue to close the various cuts.

He can vividly remember thinking he’d never felt a touch like hers; those tiny, dainty hands were so soft and attentive and possessed such remarkable patience and a near-heartbreaking tenderness. It had been a long time since anyone had cared for him; robbed of that kind of nurturing and affection the moment that drunk driver had killed his mother. His ex had never been the ‘nursemaid’ type; seeming to lack even the shreds of sensitivity that came with basic human decency.

At least when it came to him.

Despite having to battle feelings of weakness and failure, he had learned to accept -and rely on- the touch of another. Quickly getting over any discomfort and embarrassment when Esme -during his hospital stay and then on that long road of healing- had to assist him with even the simplest and most mundane tasks. Having her by his side in the UAE had been his main driving force to getting back on his feet; having that constant encouragement during physiotherapy when he struggled to even master a small flight of stairs. The months in a coma depleting him of all strength and stamina; simply swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and struggling to get upright leaving him breathless and covered in sweat.

Yet somehow, she made the days…the weeks…the months…bearable. Turning even the smallest of milestones into enormous celebrations; praising every little step he managed and cheering him on when he was finally able to feed himself and abandon a straw in favour or sipping from an open cup. He’d never felt as if she was belittling or mocking him, and he never once scolded her for treating him like a child. In turn, she’d never treated him like a burden; even during the initial days of consciousness when he’d repeatedly ask the same questions or he’d curse and grumble when she’d have to help him take a sip of water. And she’d chatter away as she trimmed his beard or washed his face and hair with the aid of nothing more than a washcloth and a basin of water.

And that shampoo of hers. The familiar smell of milk and honey that he loved so much.

*****

“Deja vu,” he says now, and she arches a quizzical brow. “Got me thinking about Dhaka. The warehouse. When you cleaned me up.”

“You were a much bigger mess then, that’s for sure.”

“Seems like a long time ago, yeah? Way more than six years.”

“I think I aged six years in just a few days there.” Sweeping the longer strands of hair off his forehead, she dumps saline onto a fresh gauze pad and dabs at a cut above his right eyebrow. “Some of those are pretty deep. I don’t think there’s any glass stuck in any of them, but…”

“There’s not. I already pulled all the glass out before you got done with Millie.”

She grimaces. “You and your enormous pain tolerance. Except when you stub a toe. I swear you speak in tongues when that happens.”

“Hey, that hurts. A lot.”

“This coming from a man that’s removed bullets from his own body and given himself stitches. And speaking of bullets…” Tossing the dirty gauze pads aside, she reaches for the package of sterile strips. “...I heard you took one in the hand. While dangling something like fifty stories in the air.”

“Nik really DID keep you up to date.”

“I liked knowing what you were up to. And if you were doing okay. I may have left but didn’t stop caring about you.”

“What else do you know? About Georgia?”

“I know more than you think I do.”

“When you asked about it the other night, it was like you didn’t know a thing. Why…?”

“Nik only told me a few things. I had another source; someone that I worked before I took up with the High Table. That knew all about Dhaka. And what went down between you and me while we were there.”

“I’m almost scared to ask.”

“He speaks very highly of you. And the job you and Nik did. To get your asses out of jail.”

“You know Alcott.”

“I know A LOT of people.”

“So you know everything that happened. In Georgia.”

“Not everything. But pieces of things. I know you saw her. Your ex. It was her sister, right? And her kids? That were being held in the prison?”

Tyler nods.

“I was kind of surprised when I heard it was Mia that hired you. And worried.”

“About?”

“I don’t want to overstep. And say something that might ruffle your feathers.”

“Esme, we share a kid together. We’re going to be sharing our lives. AGAIN. You used to help me get to the bathroom and back again. I don’t think there’s such a thing as overstepping in our situation.”

“It’s not very pleasant. The things I thought. When I heard she asked for you. I want to believe it was all in good faith; that she really did think you were the only one for the job and wasn’t something more…sinister.”

“Sinister?” He chuckles. “She’s not some villain in a superhero movie. She’s just a regular person. I think you’re giving her a little too much credit.”

“I don’t want you getting upset. I’m not bringing this up to piss you off. It’s just…I don’t know…” She chews on her bottom lip as she applies the first set of strips to one of the larger, deeper cuts. “...forget it. Ignore me. I’m just babbling.”

“You can’t bring something like this up and expect me to just pretend you never did.”

“It was a concern, okay? Something that didn’t sit well with me.”

“Which was?”

“I couldn’t help but wonder if she did because she knew you wouldn’t turn it down. If she used all that guilt and regret against you. To get what she wanted. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…” She sighs. “...it’s just how I feel.”

“I don’t think you’re the only one who thought that. About her. I know it crossed my mind.”

“I don’t blame you; for taking the job. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t have. Those kids needed you. I mean, I did the same thing in a way, didn’t I? Ask for you? Because I knew you wouldn’t say no. Whether Millie was yours or not.”

“But Millie IS mine. So it made more sense for you to call than Mia.”

“I’m just glad it all worked out. I know it was insanely messy and didn’t exactly end in the best possible way for you and Nik. But you’re alive. And that’s what really matters, right?”

“It’s the only thing that matters. I’m alive and I’m here.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as you keep me around.”

“So you’re willing to turn really old and really gray with me?”

“It’ll be a hell of a burden to bear, but I’ll manage. Somehow.”

Giving a derisive snort, she playfully ruffles his hair. “Jerk.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence; his palms continuously skimming along her thighs as she concentrates on cleaning and closing the remaining cuts. And while he’d missed her touch, he realizes he’d missed touching her just as much; the feel of her skin underneath his fingertips, both during the extremely intimate and the more innocent. Whether it be the press of her naked body against his in the midst of a sea of rumpled and tangled sheets or the way -during a meal- he’ll intentionally lay the tips of his fingers against hers. Or the running of his palms across her shoulders and down her arms when steps past her and the smoothness of her cheeks when he brushes hair away from the side of her face.

He’s incredibly -and unapologetically- guilty of not being able to stay away from her; craving the feel of her skin and the taste of her lips and the smell of her hair. It’s an experience he’s never been privy to before; so immersed and intrigued by another’s entire being. And the thrill and the terror that comes with wanting and needing someone that desperately.

“Would you have still called?” He breaks the silence. “If Millie hadn’t been mine?”

“Who else’s would she have been? I didn’t cheat on you, Tyler. I never would.”

“I know. And I still feel like an asshole for even asking if she was mine. But hypothetically speaking. If she hadn’t been and you were still in this mess, would you have asked for me? Got Nik to call me?”

“I don’t know,” Esme admits, and begins repacking the medical kit. “It’s… tricky. Answering that.”

“Tricky? Why…?”

“Because I wouldn’t want to hurt you like that; having you see me with another guy’s kid. But a part of me would want the best. Keeping my child safe. And I know that’s you. So yeah…” Zipping the bag closed, she tosses it onto the nearby love seat. “... it’s tricky. Would you have said yes? If Nik had called you and said I wanted to hire you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Even after you found out I'd had a baby? Someone ELSE’S baby.”

“I wouldn’t have particularly liked it or been comfortable with it. But I still would have taken the job. Because it WAS you.”

“Well let’s just be thankful that we never had to go through any of that. Because she IS yours. And I DID call.”

“I would have said, yes—either way. If you needed help and wanted me to be the one to give it, I wouldn’t have hesitated. For ANY reason.”

“Even after what I did?”

“Nothing would have stopped me from helping you. No matter how badly things ended. I know you think I’m holding onto some kind of hate, but I’m not. I don’t hate you, Esme. Not even in the slightest. Do you think we’d be here….like THIS…if I did?”

“I mean, it’s possible to be like this and there still be a little hate there. I did a terrible thing. Despite my intentions. You’re the last person in the world I ever wanted to hurt. And I…”

“I don’t have any hate for you. I’ve never had any. I never will. Yeah, there’s a bit of anger and hurt hanging around. I think that’s pretty normal. But there’s no hate. It’s not possible to hate someone you love this much.”

“I don’t deserve that. You loving me as much as you do. Not after what I did. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“You did what was best. For both of us. Especially for me.”

“I just wanted to protect you. Instead, I ended up being the one that hurt you. And I don’t understand how you can still love me; after doing what I did. Especially keeping Millie from you. How can you still feel these things for me? After all of that?”

“Because I DO. Because I never stopped loving you. There wasn’t a single second in the past five years where I didn’t want you back. And if you’d called me out of the blue and told me you felt the same way? I would have been here. In a heartbeat.”

“I wanted to. So many times. Just call or text. Email even. And I always chickened out. I was always so afraid; that you’d be angry enough to ignore me or tell me to fuck off entirely. That’s why I never did; contact you when everything was over. I was too scared.”

“There was nothing for you to be scared of.”

“It was just stupid of me. So childish. And if I could go back and change everything that happened AFTER The High Table stepped down, I would. Because it would mean you would have gotten more time with Millie and she would have had the chance to have her dad in her life and…”

“Come here…” Taking hold of her wrists, he gently pulls between his splayed things and then tugs her down towards him. Waiting until she’s perched sideways across his lap to wrap both arms around her tiny frame. And her arms immediately circle his neck as his lips meet her brow; lingering for several seconds until she rests her head upon his shoulder. “...I think everything’s just bothering you right now. ‘Cause you’re still pretty worked up over what happened.”

“My stomach hurts,” she grumbles. “And my head is killing me.”

“You should go and take that nap. It’ll help. Go lie down with Millie.”

“I don’t think I can turn my brain off long enough to sleep.”

“Well, if you can’t, at least try and relax.”

“Only if you come and relax with me. It’s not like you’re actually on the job right now. And I do recall Nik saying something about spending time with your family.”

“I don’t think cuddling is what she had in mind.”

“Well think of it this way, cuddling puts you very close to my body and you WERE hired as a bodyguard, so…”

Running a palm down her hair, he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then tightens his hold on her; knees loudly cracking as he stands. “Do you always get what you want?”

“Nine times out of ten.” She squeals and giggles when he effortlessly tosses her over his shoulder. "Especially when it comes to you.”

“Well, you should know by now…” Grinning, he repeatedly pats a hand against her ass as he carries her toward the bedroom. “....there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Extraction #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Extraction fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Extraction 2 #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #Nik Khan

[heelbucks]

bc im trying to have dreams of chuck taylor (dustin) or cash wheeler (daniel);

could a bestie get smut of either? the kinkiest, dirtiest shite you could think of, then that sweet, tooth decay aftercare?

oh baby - c. wheeler

pairing: daniel (cash) wheeler x fem! reader

warnings: minors dni, heavy smut (breeding kink, public sex, oral [m receiving], road head, [please be careful y’all], ), established relationship, use of real names!! (dax = david, wardlow = michael),

notes: i am an absolute SLUT FOR HIM so ofc i picked cashie bb enjoy ! takes place post trios match at all out! also look at this gif of him he’s such a cute lil shit. do you guys like me writing fully out of kayfabe with their real names? let me know!! maybe i’ll do it more :) also!!! this is easily the longest thing i’ve written in a while so it’s taking me a bit of time!

you sat in guerrilla position with david’s wife and daughter at the edge of your seats. you can see maria slightly cringe every time he lands awkwardly and sells a move perfectly. “i know he’s not seriously hurt, but i’m so proud of him, he’s such a good actor.” she says when she can finally breathe again as michael tags in.

you two get so wrapped up in watching your partners that the tiny harwood almost misses her cue. tony khan gently rushes her outside and you can’t miss the look of awe on her mothers face as the men in the ring let her get her “first win”.

daniel was always so good with his goddaughter, he really would do anything for her

as the boys file backstage, daniel drops his belts and swoops you up into his arms. “there’s my favorite cheerleader. whatcha think of the match babydoll?” he asked you in between kissing you all over your face. “amazing as always, danny.” you giggled as he placed you down.

you both looked over at the family next to you and shared the same thought. “i really do love how sweet you are with kids. i can’t wait to have a baby with you.” you whispered in his ear, placing a quick kiss below it. his adrenaline and testosterone already pumping through his veins, daniel pulled you closer to him via a tight grip on your ass. “is that so doll? why don’t we get a head start on that then? can’t wait to come home and see you being my cute lil housewife.” he was practically growling in your ear when you physically dragged him away. “sorry we’d love to stay for the after party but these cramps are killing me. maria, text me when you guys get in okay? congratulations again david and michael!” nobody had time to register what has happening, but david knew his best friend and he sat there laughing to himself while you two sprinted to the cars, making a quick stop for him to change out of his gear.

barely making it into the large rental car, you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. daniel’s large hands wrapped tightly around you lifting you up with ease. “tell me why i can’t take you right here again?” his words come out breathlessly as he places kiss after kiss down your neck. before you could answer you heard a few camera clicks and laughed. “that’s why. don’t need other people to witness our first kid getting made.”

daniel opened up your door and ran to the driver side and started the drive to the hotel. the entire time his hand was clenching your thigh and yours was sliding across his lap. as you passed over his cock, you gave it a little squeeze. “babydoll, don’t start something you’re not gonna finish, or i might have to pull over right now.”

looking up at him with a smirk, you unbutton your seatbelt and lean across the center console. “who said i wasn’t gonna finish?”. you pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion. his length bounces slightly against his tummy and you lean down to give a little kiss to the tip. you slowly take little by little into your mouth, your boyfriend above you gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. “fuckin hell baby.” you hear from above you.

as you hollow out your cheeks and get into more of a rhythm, daniel finally starts to relax, one of his hands making it’s way to the back of your head to hold it down. not paying full attention, he drives over a speed bump, sending his cock against the back of your throat. “shit, sorry doll. damn that felt good.”

as you two pulled into the hotel parking lot, you sat up straight, wiping the spit and precum from your mouth. “that, was fun. we’re doing that again when we get home.” you smiled at your boyfriend while he adjusted himself and made it slightly less obvious he got one of the best blowjobs of his life.

————————————————————————-

once inside your room, daniel locked the door and dropped everything. “let’s get a baby in you then, future mrs. wheeler.” he pulled you in close, his large hands easily gripping onto your waist and pushed you gently onto the bed. as you landed with a bounce and a giggle, you get up on your knees to kiss him. he pulls away to peal off his shirt and practically rips yours off. you lay back and pull down your leggings and roll over so your ass is in his face.

daniel quickly gets rid off his pants again, and you feel the bed dip as he climbs onto it. “normally, i’d have you ride my face until you’re crying. but tonight, you’re not leaving this bed until you’re knocked up.” his voice is deep and sends a chill down your spine as he pulls your panties to the side and slowly pushes one finger in. “oh you like that don’t you? you just can’t wait for me to fill you up, get you nice and full with my kid?”

to be continued?

#cash wheeler fluff #cash wheeler imagine #cash wheeler smut #cash wheeler x reader #cash ​wheeler headcanons #daniel “cash wheeler

[phantomcellar]

My Murder Drones Episode 4 Predictions

Ok so I wanna share my theories on how the episode will go before it releases. Theres like roughly 2 Plot Ideas that I have, although parts of them could be combined or interchanged:

Plot Idea A (aka. the monster in the woods feat. AS!V & Angst):

Uzi and her class go outside camping, Uzi is probably forced to go by Khan, or perhaps she has a secondary motive to going (like looking for doll) N and V come too. Uzi starts feeling more and more warm and hungry throughout the episode and start having light hallucinations, hearing sounds and maybe even starting to see things. It also doesnt help that V is trying to push her away from N, since she is noticing whats happening (could be the source for the "its better to stay distant though, dont you think?" line in the trailer).

She then becomes so hot that she goes into the lake to cool down, it doesnt work and she sees herself with the X eyes in the reflection of the lake (the solver trolling once again), she then freaks out and runs into the cabin while the hallucinations get worse (maybe even starts hearing/seeing nori), the heat is just unbearable and she begins to feel weird.

In the cabin she begins transforming and starts going into feral mode, letting out an earpiercing scream. The campers hear this and send someone to check (poor drone), who then becomes solver Uzis first Victim (With V, who secretly followed her, watching everything, confirming her fears). After the drone they sent out to check doesnt come back N goes to check as he is worried about Uzi, who ran off a while ago (doesnt help that there are mysterious red lights coming from a random cabin). On the way to the cabin N runs into V, who starts making excuses on why he doesnt have to go into the cabin. That and V lying about being low on oil makes N finally snap at V and confronts her about hiding something. (possibly the source for the “I don’t know what you’re talking about because you wont tell me, what are you so afraid of?!” line from the season 1 trailer). This leads to V knocking N out (maybe not through decapitation this time lol) and going in to either save Uzi or to put her out of her misery. A fight obviously insues, with both comatants withing not just against eachother but also time (V with her oil being low and Uzi with sanity).

N, after coming to himself again, sees the fight happen and intervenes, causing feral Uzi to get away. After this she once again confronts V, especially after he sees that she can use the solver similarly to Uzi and Doll. (Ill explain this AS!V theory at the bottom of the post). V, being really low on oil just straight up collapses and N, panicing, goes to get food for herm aswell as looking for Uzi. While looking, N gets captured by Tessa and J, who were led here by the sound of fighting. So then V is left alone unconsious in the forest.

Plot Idea B (aka. The secret Forest lab, this one is a bit less complete):

So in this version Uzi, N and maybe V go to the forest in order to find a secret Human lab that is supposedly there. They could find out about this either from Noris ramblings (if Khan is willing to give it to Uzi, or Uzi steals them), or perhaps they find something in Dolls room. Ofc Uzi is still experiencing the solvers effects its just slower here, with her getting a taste for oil and such. So the gang explores the lab. Entering through either the cabin from the teaser or that dock area from the thumbnail of the teaser video.

The gang explores the lab, while exploring Uzi's Solver begins to act up (wouldnt help if there were perhaps corpses down there). Now this could lead to them finding out something shocking), probably related to the solver (and maybe nori aswell), although Im not sure what they could find. Uzi could also still go feral mode, forcing N and V to stop her from eating the campers, or maybe she just start transforming but stays sane and N and V could teach her about being a Dissasembly drone.

Again this Plot is a bit underbaked imo, but I think it still should be said, it could maybe even be combined with Plot A (probably gonna be the case in the episode).

AS!V abridged version (Theory by @leafyunderscore​ ):

So this theory states that V has control of the solver similiarly to Uzi and Doll. So in ep3 we briefly see V with the solver Symbol on her eye. Now what is strange about this is that, although the Dissasembly Drones have the solver, they seemingly can only use its healing powers (N growing his head back and Eldritch J) and the Symbol never appears in their eye. So it could be possible that V has access to the full solver and not just the healing powers (could be the reason she knows so much mystery stuff).

Heres the post by leafy, may be a bit old tho.

So yeah thanks for sticking around. Im excited to hear any feedback or other theories.

#murder drones #murder drones theory #murder drones cabin fever #md #murder drones theories

[elitehunter]

Malakai Black: (Later On, We'll Conspire) To Face Unafraid The Plans That We've Made

Title: (Later On, We'll Conspire) To Face Unafraid The Plans That We've Made Theme: Day 3 - Candles for @12daysofchristmas Fandom/Character(s): AEW/Malakai Black x OFC Warnings: none really unless you count mentions of religion and overbearing relatives on the holidays Word Count: 3,005

She's planned the perfect event for the AEW holiday party and her boss, Tony Khan, has told her she shouldn't work and should enjoy herself. She doesn't expect to spend the whole night engrossed in conversation with the leader of the House of Black. And she definitely doesn't expect to learn so much about him and what he thinks of her in the process.

Read it on AO3

#12daysofchristmas2022 #malakai black fanfiction #malakai black fanfic #malakai black imagine #malakai black imagines #elitehunter fanfiction #elitehunter fic #series: 12 days of christmas (aew one shots) #malakai black x ofc #malakai black x original female character