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dannyboyzone · 4 years ago

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I am sorry, I can't OOC

A Guniel fanfiction; fluff, then angst

In which, Gun and Daniel had been on a few dates before, but what Gun doesn't know that Daniel used to have an older brother. To note, I am aware Gun would never murder anyone. TW - death, blood and probably gore.

these pictures have nothing to do with the fiction, they are to set a mood.

10:53 pm, 2021, Guniel are in Daniel's room.

How long has it been? It must have been a few weeks, perhaps months since Gun started dating Daniel.

They have never officially announced their relationship - if it can be called that - but it was obviously for everyone around them that they are becoming boyfriends.

Daniel liked to take it slow since he never experienced anything like this before, however Gun loved him with his whole heart. He was inpatient, but since it's Daniel it's worth waiting even if it takes a thousand years.

That does not mean he doesn't spoil him, Gun loves to make his beloved smile.

He even brought him a new apartment, the old one is dirty, small and full of roaches. Simply not fit for living there.

They are sitting in that right now, in Daniel's room. The little one sleeping on the king bed that was brought from China. At least, the mattress is. The frame is from France, both bodies deserve the best, don't they?

Big Daniel, or as you would prefer the conscious body, was sitting on the floor, legs crossed. His arm rested on the desk laying out in front of him, drawing whatever he could. The drawing was a messy yet clear view of two boys hugging. His ability to focus was very, as if the stars would fall off if he made a mistake. He was drawing himself with his beloved after all.

The older one was next to him, adoring in awe. He rested his chin on the palm of his right hand, being completely in love.

This is true right, he wasn't dreaming?

Daniel is so beautiful and charming, Gun could always get what he wanted. Being content, having his expectation met, being able to be him instead of holding himself back.

It was better than a dream, and life finally seemed to calm down. This is what they both wanted, a calm and peaceful life.

" Hey baby, "

Daniel shot his head up, turning to his left. He met a habit Gun has,

their foreheads gently got pressed together, while Gun closed an eye, a smile spreading across his face.

Daniel would lie if he would say he didn't blush, he is weak when it comes to these kind of things.

" do you love me a lot? " the answer was obvious, but it's nice to hear it once in a while.

The room got filled with soft giggles and Daniel let go of his pencil by now.

He shifted his body closer, laying his arm around his beloved.

Their bodies innocently pressed together, arms around waist, another around shoulder, and Gun's hand holding the weight of his fairy that was now on his lap.

" Of course I do, my hyung! " said Daniel, with a cheerful smile.

His fingers ran down the other's neck, doing soft circles on them.

Slowly, their eyes started to close, just for sweet touch of a smooch.

Daniel couldn't immediately bring himself to look back at Gun, a feeling of nervousness took over his body. A so asked question was sitting on the top of his tongue, but it didn't want to come out.

It didn't go unnoticed, and a gentle voice called out

" Danny, are you alright? "

It pulled him back, meeting the other's eye.

" Hyung... "

He slid a hand down his pocket, to lift out a necklace. It was a cheap one, shaped as a heart. The fake gold paint had washed off at some parts, it was rusty yet still beautiful.

" .. can you please watch out for this for me when we go to Jeju with Mira and Zack? "

Gun felt the need to laugh, it was something as simple as that. Morals are a thing though, and it would have been inappropriate, he knew how to hold himself back.

He took the necklace and stroked over it. Weird, it felt clean and fresh, despite it being quite a few years old. It must get a lot of care.

He started to open it up, and that's when Daniel continued.

" You know, I brought this a little after my brother has passed away. He was murdered, and I missed him so much I couldn't help but look at this everyday. It has his picture inside, because I don't want to forget him. "

That's when Gun saw it.

A picture of two kids, hugging each other while their cheek is pressed together.

He couldn't believe it, it's the face of the person he sees every time he closes his eyes. Daniel's brother, Johan.

2011, October 24th, 13:45 pm

It's time. Thought Gun.

He had been following Johan, this little boy that had pushed his brother, JoonGoo.

He thinks he just can.

Just because he turned nine not long ago, he thinks the world is his. How sad, being fed lies by your own mind.

Gun is more aware of the world now, he is 10 years old after all. It's a two digit number, and people with two digit numbers are really smart.

His little "chase" had been going on for around 10 minutes, even through the grocery trip he made.

It was now time though, Johan got pushed the dark alley by his side.

The paper bag he held fell to the ground, ripping apart and making everything spill out. A tomato rolled to the side of his face, next to some empty bag. This is not good.

His eyes filled with tears as his skin got ripped up by cement, exposing his muscles. Blood started to drip to the cement, and he looked up.

What's going on, who is this stranger that's hitting him? He needs to get home, his little brother is home alone with their sick mom.

He can't see him beat up, it would break his heart.

" Please don't..- "

Gun kicked him to the ground as he tried to life his upper body to take a look at him better.

" Shut the fuck up. "

Gun grabbed his hair and ignored the cries that filled the air.

The was that was in front of Johan was cold, ruthless and feeled with hatred.

It's not that he could get a good look at it, because a fist came too close.

Well, close is an understatement. It was a punch that sent him to the ground, laying on his back.

Not only had he cracked his head, but his jaw was crushed.

The begging that filled the air was.. something no human needs to go through. The endless screams, to the scratches across the cement, to the pain was all inhumane.

" P-ple- please- My m-mom is sick. "

" You should have thought about that sooner, fucker. "

Gun was sitting on his chest, punching him from left, then right.

From left, then right.

Johan's body was found in a dumpster the next day, in a bloody bag. Multiple parts of his skull, as well as his arms broken.

Due to evidence of Gun's dna under Johan's fingernails from self defense, Ahn Jong Gun went to jail for 6 years.

10:58, 2021, present

Gun stared down at his hand, holding the necklace.

He can't believe it, it was him.

The little, innocent child he killed years ago. A child, that did nothing wrong yet had to loose his life.

Guilt has eaten him alive ever since, everyday.

Just what did Johan do wrong? He pushed Goo, but he was just a precious child. A brother was waiting for him at home. A mother took her own life, her baby was gone.

He can't date Daniel, he doesn't deserve a monster like Gun in his life.

A river of tears fell down his cheeks, he felt like he can barely breath, yet he could only stare.

His gaze was still, he didn't even blink.

Daniel, had noticed, raising his brows in worry. He made his love look at him, kissing and stroking away his tears.

" Sweetheart? What's wrong? "

It's was so sudden, it's not usual for Gun to have a mood switch this easily.

Gun looked at his face and broke down.

He started to cry loudly, unable to keep a straight expression. Softly putting Daniel on the floor, he stood up and gave back what he treasured so much.

" I am sorry, I can't "

Gun ran off, only to the bathroom though.

He washed his face in front of a huge mirror above the sink, but the tears kept coming. How could he call himself human?

{It would be better if I would drown} he thought.

There is no use to be alive, if the only person that gives him comfort is hurt.

Not only did he took a life, but is also responsible for so many traumas caused in so many people.

A soft knock was heard against the bathroom door.

" Honey, are you alright? "

The door opened, and a worried expression showed through it.

Daniel went in, and softly back hugged Gun.

Gun sniffed, taking breaths.

He washed his face, well, more so slapped his watery hand in his face.

" I- I don't think you should be doing this.. believe me. You shouldn't love me, please don't do that. "

Daniel only hugged more tight. He wasn't scared to love Gun, they went through a lot.

He is well aware of his gang life, and all those bad things he had done. Their love can stand everything right?

He snuggling up to the other's back, he said

" I don't know what you are going through, but we can do this. I will support you. "

Gun gripped the skin under his hands, almost breaking it if it wouldn't be for him holding himself back.

He can't stand this, this is not fine. He can't lie to Daniel, yet the truth terrifies him.

He ran out again, this time immediately followed.

Gun hurriedly searched through kitchen drawers, not paying attention to keeping them safe.

" Honey! Honey, what are you doing right now? " Daniel held his arm, trying to stop him.

He had no choice though, but to back off.

Gun held a kitchen knife, when he turned around he was sobbing again with red eyes.

Gun is such a strong man. Both mentally and physically, he never let anything bring him down.

Yet in this moment, he seemed so instable.

He held Daniel's hands, forcing the kitchen knife in them. The tip was touching Gun's chest, cutting through the white fabric that was once a white shirt.

On his knees, holding the hands of the love of his hands, he begged.

" Please kill me, kill me right now. Goo will help you clean me up, just don't let me live. "

How much can you endure? Seeing the love of your life kneeling in front of you, begging to be killed.

Daniel was confused, what happened? Just a little ago, they were singing their hearts out, singing fake notes into their karaoke machine.

Everything was so perfect, did he do something wrong?

He broke out crying, tossing the knife in the kitchen sink.

" I don't want to see you like this, please talk to me. "

He kneeled down while beginning him to talk, holding him.

The room was filled with heavy breathing and the sound of despair.

Hours went by without them moving, neither of them was willing to give up. It was such a pitiful sight, the way they held onto each other, beginning to stop.

The neighbours were afraid to call the police, but they heard. Almost every little noise.

3:04 am, 2021 present

The two boys were laying on the kitchen floor, facing each other.

They had both fallen asleep in exhaustion.

It didn't take long for Gun to wake up though, and move closer to Daniel.

Stroking his cheek, he couldn't help but wonder, with what did he deserve such an angel?

No questions were asked, and no doubt filled the air. There was only love and support. He had never dared to imagine someone so selfless giving him love like that.

A few tear drops met the cold floor, filling the quite air.

Gun moved closer and put his forehead to the younger boys, his hand not letting go of his soft cheek,

" I love you, I am so sorry " he said, with a sorrowful voice.

To his surprise, Daniel grabbed his arm, and looked at him with his eyelids half closed. He was barely awake, let alone aware of his surroundings,

" I love you too, don't you dare go anywhere. "

Outro;

I kind of like, lost track and skills during the middle of this, but hopefully you enjoyed it.

I love Johan, but if you know the person it happened to, it's even more sad, no?

And a little funfact; Daniel knew Gun was about to take in pills, so he did his best he could to hold him back.

I am not saying it's good, but thank you for your precious time.

#lookism #외모지상주의 #daniel #gun #hyungsuk #jonggun #guniel #johan #yohan

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demoneyesanddamagedsouls · 4 years ago

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Sparring Partners

Chapter 3: Infiltrate The Enemy

A/N: Alright so this is Chapter 3 of this fic, I got a little carried away with this chapter that's why the word count is more than last time. We're starting to get into the thick of it now! I have a feeling that each chapter will probably get longer and longer as I go cause I'm just enjoying writing it so much. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Slight Language, Canon-typical violence (got heavier on this one, blood, pain, choking, weapon usage)

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CHAPTER 3: Infiltrate The Enemy

Driving through city, listening to the soft sounds of the radio, you head towards the hospital. Mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead you run through your fake persona. You were going undercover as a young medical student in training that had been transferred from your university to take up a short placement at the CleanPlanet facilities. With all that you had learnt over the years helping Ginger out with certain tech and patching up different injuries you felt that you had a slight grasp on some basic medical terminology and concepts. You simply needed to blend into the background and focus on the mission at hand.

Continuing along you begin to leave the hustle and bustle of the city life, moving further out into the outskirts of town. The hospital was in a more remote area, another way to keep suspicious, prying eyes away from their experiments you thought, as you continued along the rather empty road. As you approach the multi storeyed hospital complex you notice the large wire fence which circled the perimeter of the area, the gates at the front wide open for visitors. You drive onto the lot and park in the staff area to the right, inside the gate. Taking a deep breath, you collect yourself, brushing the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail and tucking them behind your ear. Pulling out the earpiece from the small box that Ginger had given you, you quickly tuck it behind the arm of your glasses at the top of your ear to hide it from view.

Grabbing your bag from the backseat of the car, you take out your lab coat that Ginger had given you and pulled it over your shoulders. Pulling your knees up you pull your small throwing knives out of your duffle, strapping a few to your thighs. You weren’t about to go into this hostile situation without being prepared. Pulling your lab coat around you to cover up your hidden weapons you hop out of your personas rundown car and start walking towards the hospitals main entrance. Curiously, you notice a lot of doctors, other professionals, and a few security guards here and there wandering around the perimeter of the fence.

You counted about 23 people in total from what you could see, some talking together, some having a cigarette break, and so on. But as you look closer, you realise that all these seemingly random people dappled around were wearing communication earpieces. On some of the security guards you even noticed the outline of a handgun tucked into the back of their shirts. It seemed that the hospital was on high alert and extremely well-guarded. Everything was going to be just fine, just blend in and focus. You’ve got this. You murmur to yourself to ease your nerves, focusing on embodying the new persona you needed to become. Out of the corner of your eye you notice a strikingly familiar shiny blue chrome. You turn ever so slightly to see that Whiskey’s car was parked in the visitor’s area around the side of the hospital. I suppose Duke Silver has already arrived…

Heading inside you walk over to the information desk flashing your ID badge to the receptionist. “I’m the new student transfer here for my placement from the University of Texas, where am I heading?” You query, putting a quiver into your voice, you wanted to really sell the part of the first-time med student. The woman behind the desk gestures behind you. “Down the hall and to your left sweetheart…” Looking at you she smiles; she must see the nervousness you were portraying. “You’ll do just fine darlin, Doctor Violet will be mentoring you and she is just downright lovely. You’ve got nothing to be worried about.”

Continuing to fake your anxious energy, you tuck an invisible hair behind your ear activating your earpiece in one swift movement. Thanking the woman profusely you head in the direction she had gestured. The hospital was abuzz with activity all around you patients being moved, doctors and nurses chatting amongst each other, people waiting for their loved ones. It certainly looked and felt like a real hospital, an impressive cover, you thought to yourself. As you continue further down the hallway, the herd of people starting to thin, you realise you were moving towards the staff offices in the back. Looking around quickly to make sure you were out of earshot of anyone you speak quietly to yourself attempting to communicate with Whiskey on the other side of the hospital. “Hey Whiskey, my lines open, just holler if you run into any trouble.”

You hear a sharp crackle coming from your earpiece as Whiskey turns his earpiece on. “Likewise, Vodka,” he says, his voice unusually quiet, “I’m currently in the waiting room outside Howard’s office, there’s a few other wealthy looking gentlemen and women in here with me, who I assume will also be receiving a tour of the facilities… I’ll be right here if you need me, sunshine.” He purposely drew out his nickname he had for you, his voice dragging out every syllable. You could practically hear the smirk in his whispered tone.

Chuckling internally, you click your earpiece off so as not to distract your partner, or vice versa. You continued along towards Dr Violets office, turning around the corner and almost colliding into the other students gathered outside her door. There was about 4 of them in total, 5 including yourself. Shit, you need to be more careful. Anyone could have heard you. You look around to the others but they we’re all completely focused, eyes trained on the blue door which read “Dr. Octavia Violet M.D.”

Suddenly, the door swings open causing the other students to jump in surprise. Out from the office steps a prominent figure, a tall and dashing woman dressed in deep navy suit with a black button up underneath, a black tie wrapped around her neck. Brown hair wrapped into a low bun and round glasses resting on the bridge of her nose she exuded the air of highly intelligent and respected medical practitioner. Adjusting your lab coat and pushing your glasses up your nose, you continue to emulate a feeling of nervousness. This wasn’t too difficult a task as you already felt rather intimidated and yet oddly impressed by this woman. Her presence felt powerful, a quiet strength about her, shown in the way she carried herself.

“Hi there everyone, you all must be my new placement students,” She spoke, a kind smile plastered on her face. “I’m Dr Violet, I’ll be looking after you while you’re here with us over the next few weeks.” After all of you had introduced yourself separately, she began to lead you out towards the main part of the hospital, “It’s lovely to meet you all, now if you’d follow me its time I showed you around our facilities here at CleanPlanet so that you can become familiar with your new place of work.” Her black stilettos clicked as she walked, taking you past the reception desk and deeper into the hospital. Walking behind her with the other students in tow you noticed a small intricate scar poking out from underneath her jacket collar. You rest your index finger on your glasses attempting to use the tech to get a closer look. Managing to take a slightly zoomed in picture before she whips back around to address her small group of attentive pupils, you curse lightly under your breath and move further back.

You’d have to try to get a better look at whatever that was later, you couldn’t afford to draw any suspicion to yourself in such a small group. Dr Violet looks over her new students and begins to speak, “Alright so this first wing is the main hospital ward, we have different stations for certain requirements and specialists scattered around so we can accommodate a good number of inpatients here. Now further along…” Moving again the group walks further into the hospital into a more private area with sectioned off rooms and areas, “This is where we have our specialist medical, surgical and psychiatric wards. The main ward and these areas will be where you spend the majority of your time while on placement as the other side of the hospital is mainly outpatient facilities such as the A&E and the ICU.” She turned back to look at the group as she continued, “One of our main purposes here at CleanPlanet is to run test trials of experimental, but potentially lifesaving new procedures and medications,” You ears perk up at this statement, this might be what you needed to look further into.

The drug tests had seemed to be the source of the fatalities and illnesses that you had discovered in your research. “This is something we are very proud of and something you will be helping assist with. Trial subjects will need to be prepped for these new tests and made comfortable especially for certain surgeries and medications.”

You attempted to jot down some notes in a small note pad you had brought in your bag to appear as studious as some of her other pupils. You needed to keep a low profile. But on the inside your mind was reeling, what did she mean by making the patients comfortable and prepped for these trials and why would it be the student’s task to do this? If anything, it seemed that this would be a potential way to take the blame off CleanPlanet and its employees. If the students administered any medication to an unsuspecting patient, CleanPlanet would get away scot free, getting yet another unsuspecting party to do their dirty work.

As your mind processed this new information you realise that you had zoned Dr Violet out, “… we’ll be running you through what trials we’ll be running and what we’ll be getting you to do further along. Please follow me.” Walking further into these more secluded surgery and prep rooms you began to feel an unsettling ambience fill the space. The hallway had become starker, with fewer staff, the temperature had dropped to reflect the much colder and highly sanitised appearance of your new surroundings. The staff that were around had stern appearances and were adorned in different protective gear. Some wearing masks and protective goggles with some even wearing full hazmat suits. Dr Violet led you into one of the larger rooms off the main hallway and as you walked in provided each of you with a face mask of your own.

What on earth was going on here? You turn to look at Dr Violet once more, she was standing in front of a small group of staff who were sitting at multiple different desks with computer monitors in front of them. All of them were facing towards one wall in the room with what appeared to be a large, shadowed frame set into it. Each staff member was also wearing a facemask which covered their nose and mouth, jotting down notes and adjusting certain information on their screens.

It appeared to be a human x ray with different vital sign information down the side, as you peered further forward towards the screen closest to you to try and get a better look, your train of thought is suddenly interrupted by Dr Violets voice. “Alright students, we’re about to run you through a preparation and procedure of one of our focal trials here at CleanPlanet.” A mask now covering the bottom half of her face. She snapped her fingers and suddenly the frame on the wall behind her burst into vivid colour. You could see behind her a patient sitting on a small medical bed, a young male. Pale under the luminescent glow of the white medical lights, he looked almost translucent. You realised that the frame on the wall must be a one-way mirror allowing you a protected view into an adjacent medical suite.

A doctor stood over the boy, who couldn’t be more than your age, with a forced happy demeanour plastered across his face. You saw the doctors mouth moving but heard no sound to accompany it, the boy nodded in agreement and then signed a sheet of paper that the doctor held out for him on a clipboard. As the boy laid down onto the bed the doctor exited the room and you tapped your glasses frame lightly once more to begin to film what you were seeing, you had a feeling this was going to be important.

Dr Violet continued to speak as that same doctor entered the room you were standing in. “This is pivotal new research that we’ve been conducting to find a treatment for some of the big incurable diseases that plague the human race.” As she continued to speak you couldn’t bring yourself to turn in her direction, your eyes locked onto the room through that you could see through the frame. You began to notice the white cushioned padding covering the entirety of the walls within the room, and a large pit of concern began to open in your stomach. Why did it look like a cell in a mental institution in there…? “For this particular experiment we have been testing out an anaesthetic gas which aims to heighten the strong cells within the body to naturally fight off the illnesses and ailments which plague the patient.” Dr Violet explains to the students.

Suddenly you see a cloud of pale-yellow gas erupt from the ceiling above the patient. It starts to fill up the medical suite in front of your eyes as the young man squirms worriedly on the medical bed. The gas slowly engulfs the room, so thick that you can no longer see the patient. Everything is quiet for a few moments as everyone holds their breath in suspense. Suddenly the screens on front of the medical staff begin to flash in a warning red, the computers making load concerning beeps. All of a sudden you see the monitored heart rate on one of the screens plummet to zero and then shoot back up to over 200 beats per minute.

Dr Violet looks over at one of the screens with a concerned expression on her face. She leans closer to the window frame in front of her, trying to see further in when all at once there is load crack. A fist slams into the mirror with a huge amount of brute force only millimetres away from Dr Violets face. She recoils back out of shock from the sudden noise but quickly steadies herself, shaking off any worry in her now drawn expression. You continue to watch in horror as some of the gas begins to dissipate, revealing the maddened face of the patient through the mirrored frame. He was slamming himself repeatedly into the wall trying to break through the glass that separated us from him.

“Unfortunately…” The doctors voice cut through the shock that had paralysed your body, “Not every test is a success.” She trails off looking back at the boy behind the glass. His eyes were red and wild as he frantically ran around the room smacking into every possible surface, desperate to escape. He gripped the sides of his head with his hands, his face contorting in agony as an unheard scream ripped through him. He collapsed to the ground on his knees, his body shuddering in pain. You could see blood begin to drip down his cheeks out of his ears onto the floor, staining the stark white room with a deep and ominous red. Finally he collapses onto the floor, the life drained from his body, blood seeping and creating a halo around the crown of his head.

Dr V begins listing off some of the side effects of this new test such as migraines, nausea, everything up to internal bleeding. “This is a particularly exceptional case, a sharp learning curve for our testing. One of the many exciting trials and tribulations of scientific progress!” A smile lighting up her features, her whole-body tense with excitement. How could she be excited about what had happened here? You thought as your attempted to hide the pure shock and panic that was screaming out on the inside. All at once you see a few medical assistants in hazmat suits pull the lifeless body of the boy out of the suite in front of you. The room then floods with water from the sprinklers embedded in the ceiling, washing the blood down the small drain under the patient bed. “Bring in the next test subject.” Says one of the medical techs into a microphone.

No sooner had the room been cleared it had been filled again, a new patient being sat on the bed, a young woman, her face tired and worn. She had no idea what was about to happen. The view to the suite goes black once more, obscuring it from view and you and the rest of the students are hurriedly being ushered out of the room by Dr V. Everyone pulls their masks off as they leave, it seems everyone was a bit shaken from that experience. Still reeling from what you had just witnessed you keep your gaze fixed to the floor away from the prying eyes of the doctor. She continues walking and talking but you can no longer hear anything she says, your head is pounding. You need to get back there and get all the test information onto a hard drive for Statesman. You need to figure out how far this really goes. Looking up once more you raise your hand. Dr Violet looks directly at you, her gaze piercing you to your very core. “Yes?” She queries.

“May I be excused to go to the restroom Doctor?” You say, a slight quiver in your voice, this was certainly no act.

“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with having a slightly weak constitution.” Looking you up and down she waves her hand, gesturing for you to leave. “Go collect yourself. You can catch up with us further along.”

“Thank you Doctor.” Gripping tightly onto your notebook you dash back down away from the rest of the group as they continue along. You duck into the bathroom that you had passed earlier, quickly checking that there was no one else inside. Walking up to one of the sinks you look at your reflection in the mirror. Your complexion had paled from the shock of what you had witnessed, and your hands trembled as you gripped onto the ceramic of the basin fighting to keep yourself upright. Turning on the faucet you quickly splash some water across your face. You needed to get a grip and focus. You had a job you needed to do.

Tapping your earpiece, you open the communication line, exhaling softly to calm your nerves. “Whiskey, are you there?” Hearing another crackle, you hear his line open.

“I’m here Vodka, whaddya need sugar?” He says voice quiet, speaking only loud enough for you to hear.

“Ok well there have been some developments on my end, I’m about to head back into the lab we just left where my eyes were subjected to some pretty traumatic stuff…” You trail off recalling the horrific scene.

“What happened??” He queries, worry present in his tone of voice. You recount everything you had seen to him so he could get a full picture of what the hell was going on. “That sounds positively concerning…” Whiskey sighs audibly through the comm. “Well, I’m currently getting a wrap up of the facility tour from Howard so keep me on the line while you execute this and holler if you get into to any trouble.”

“Will do, Agent.” Quickly exiting the bathroom, you look down the hallway in the direction of your medical group, seeing no evidence of them and hearing nothing you begin to move in the opposite direction. Heading back towards the medical lab you quicken your pace, making use of the apparent emptiness of the hallway to reach your destination quicker.

“Jeez Vodka, you’re breathing so hard I think I’m going to go deaf in this ear.” Whiskey quips.

“Excuse me for thinking timing is of the essence in this situation cowboy.” You mutter to yourself angrily, as you reach the door to the medical lab you had visited earlier. Wary to keep your voice low, you didn’t know what was on the other side of that door. You hear Whiskey chuckle to himself, laughing at your constant irritation towards him. Ignoring him you turn the handle and hearing a soft click you push the door open.

Stepping inside the dark room you see two lab techs turn from their computers to face you. “I’m so sorry, I think I left something of mine in here earlier…” you glance around the room assessing your options. You need to get these two out of the way quickly so that you can access the information you need before anyone else comes back. Spotting a stapler on the desk closest to you amongst other scattered office supplies you quickly pick it up and open it. Looking back at the lab techs, you throw them a meagre smile.

“Sorry about this…” You mutter quietly, throwing the stapler into the air and in one swift movement you throw yourself into a cartwheel, flipping your leg forward, kicking the stapler directly in the middle, snapping it in half with the edge of your heel. The two ends of the stapler fly as you return to an upright stance, each side hitting the two lab techs square on their forehead, knocking them out cold. You smirk to yourself, proud of your efficient work.

“Everything under control Vodka?” You hear Whiskeys voice in your ear.

“Everything is under control.” You say as you dash over to the closest computer to you, rolling the lab tech who was slumped over in his own office chair out of the way. Pulling a hard drive out of your back pocket you quickly plug it into the port on the side of the computer screen. Tapping a few keys like Ginger taught you, the entire computer log begins to copy over to your hard drive. Files start to flick across the screen showing you all you ever needed to know about the trials they were running. Pictures of patients flit across the screen, hundreds of people with deceased written in bold red letters across their files. “My god…” you say, your voice catching as the number of files continue to rise.

“What’s going on there Vodka?” You hear a mutter in your ear.

“Whiskey I…” You trail off unable to comprehend how many people had been used and tossed aside for this drug trial. “I cannot believe how many patients they’ve gone through for this drug Jack…” You using his real name throws Whiskey for a loop. He knows how serious this must be if all the sarcasm and snipes had left your voice completely. You continue talking, trying to keep your nerves in check as the picture of the boy from earlier flashes onto the screen, the same words across his picture in red. “The drug they’re testing is an anaesthesia type gas which they’re calling Sunflower… It seems that in most of the cases it takes the patients about a week to experience the more intense symptoms and then eventually…” Trailing off again, your silence saying everything you couldn’t seem to articulate.

All of a sudden, the door to the lab opens and you see the frame of Dr Violet step inside. She quirks her eyebrow at you and glances at her two unconscious techs, down to the hard drive and then back up at you. You hear a small beep come from the computer notifying you that the upload had been completed. You quickly snatch the drive out of the computer as Dr V stared you down.

Looking at you with a knowing smile she puts her hand out towards you. “I think I’ll be taking that off your hands sweetheart.” She says with her hand outstretched.

“I don’t think so Violet.” You say as you quickly pocket the drive, bringing your hands to hover over the knives strapped to your thighs, bracing for a fight.

A crackle comes through your earpiece suddenly, “Vodka, is everything alright?”

You have no time to respond because all at once Dr V goes in for a jab directly into your stomach. Catching you off guard, you keel over in shock and from being suddenly winded, gripping your stomach. “That’s Doctor to you.” Dr V quips. Gasping, desperately trying to regain your breath you pull out one of your knives from your thigh holster and lunge at her, aiming a blow for her shoulder.

Expecting the blade to sink into soft flesh you put all your weight and strength behind your throw. The knife collides with her shoulder, but nothing happens. You hear the clang of metal clashing. Instead of sinking in, the blade slashes downwards, cutting through her lab coat and her suit revealing a metal covering underneath. The force that should have impacted the doctor reverberates back into your arm sending a jarring shock through your body. Quickly recovering you kick out directly at her left leg landing a heavy blow which forces her to recoil back.

Both catching your breath you stare the doctor down. “How could you possibly think what you’re doing here is ok?” You pant out getting ready for your next move.

“We’re trying to improve the world, make people stronger… but sometimes you have to crack a few bad eggs before you find the right one.” She says matter-of-factly, as she nurses her leg.

You both resume a fighting stance readying yourselves. “You’re hurting so many people just to achieve that goal, can’t you see that the harm outweighs any potential good you’re trying to accomplish?” You throw back at her, a venomous anger reaching your voice at her absolute callousness to the situation. You throw your other blade attempting to take her by surprise and incapacitate her, aiming for her already injured leg. The knife hits its mark with deadly accuracy, sinking into the flesh of her thigh. Dr Violet cries out in pain, sucking air through her teeth as she controls her reaction. She flicks her gaze away from the knife sticking out of her leg back at you, a new fury in her eyes.

“Sunshine are you handling the situation?” You hear Whiskeys tense voice in your ear.

Dr Violet runs at you throwing her non injured leg out kick you hard in the ribs. You grunt in pain, exhaling sharply. Without giving you a chance to recover she grabs you by the throat and clamps her fingers down, restricting any air flow into your lungs. She lifts you up with one arm by the neck keeping you from being able to breath. You grasp her hand with both your own, trying to tear her fingers away from your throat, trying to let any amount of air reach your lungs. She holds you there like you weigh almost nothing, looking you up and down. You thrash out with your legs trying to somehow escape from her grasp as black spots start to cloud your vision.

“Sweetheart?!” You hear Whiskey in your ear once more, his voice riddled with concern. Trying to choke out a response to your partner as your voice cracks, “P-Please…” is all you can muster. You feel yourself start to slip out of consciousness in the doctor’s vice like grip. You hear her calm voice as your body movements start to slow and weaken, “I think you will make a fine new test subject for our trial.” She says with a large smirk gloating at you, her new prize.

All you hear as you finally succumb to unconsciousness is Whiskey yelling your name through the com as your body collides with the floor…

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

Permanent Tags:

@hrk-fic-recs @misslexilouwho

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greenroseunderglass · 3 years ago

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US Healthcare's A+ management and the evil it breeds:

That's it, really.

Okay, so there's a little old man. How I ended up being the only person on earth looking his way is a long story. He's 82, has cancer, and lived in very terrible living circumstances with his drug-addicted son who took from rather than gave to him.

In January, before I got Covid, he had an episode that landed him inpatient in the hospital. It was apparent to everyone -- including the social workers just assigned to him by two different counties -- that he wouldn't be coming home this time.

But he's no longer in crisis, so he's going to be released from the hospital whether he has anywhere to go or not. Yes, really. So he has to somehow get into a rehabilitation center.

There's a whole crazy thing about having to re-apply for Medicaid when going into hospice care. It takes at least a month. Yes, really.

So rehab centers take patients who it's obvious will be approved, knowing Medicaid will eventually pay for it. But someone still has to sign the patient in as a sponsor or they can't stay. Again, yes, really.

None of his 3 children were willing to take responsibility, unsurprisingly, so I signed all the paperwork, because it was deadline time and someone had to or they would not receive him.

Cue Medicaid, to do the re-approval, demanding things they already have but that can only be re-provided by little old man, who is not mentally sound, or his 3 kids, who are not interested in cooperating in any way.

So now it's March, and the rehab place has moved him to their regular nursing home and they have been paid no money.

So yes, all of the bad here is Medicaid's fault.

But the evil it breeds:

One of their financial people had hung up on me in the first month when I made it clear I wasn't going to be subsidizing the payments until Medicaid got straightened out. She tried to bully me into it, and when that categorically failed, she hung up.

Now, March, I recieve a very forcefully written bill demanding over $17,000, due on receipt.

I had to take a whole day to calm down and then I called the woman. She sounded smug. Then I told her I actually noticed where she had expertly altered the recipient from "Medicad" to "my name" with white out and careful print. (Her computer spit it out as due from Medicaid and she changed it.)

She went silent. I asked in a pleasant voice what the current status of the Medicaid was, and after she blustered for a while against the Very Pleasant Voice my Mama taught me, she eventually admitted she had a call scheduled with them for tomorrow.

But then she went back to blustering about how if I were I an honest person I wouldn't have signed the papers if I didn't intend to pay. I didn't have the heart to point out the altered bill again. I Very Pleasant Voiced her about Medicaid until she hung up on me again.

This is her job. They're a business trying to stay afloat. But this is the kind of thing you find everywhere, when dealing with Medicaid People providing services and desperate (Or just greedy) to get their compensation.

They pull all kinds of things to convince people they owe money out of their pockets that they know Medicaid should pay. Will pay. Eventually. This kind of bullying is horrible because a lot of people won't know better, and sometimes take drastic actions to be able to pay.

There was nothing okay about any step in my current situation, and every awfulness was forced to a crisis point by the U.S. healthcare system allowing a hospital to discharge without any recourse a terminally ill man of 82.

This guy didn't have a social safety net, and the rules were laid out to let him hit the ground. And the doctor I nearly back-handed and the nurse I wanted to throttle and the finance whoever at the hospital who politely told my rapidly-becoming-more-agitated self that patients with only supplemental Medicaid were discharged immediately on the doctor's sign off, and was I going to be the one picking him up??

Yeah, they're all caught in the machine with me and my new hang-up friend, and right now I want to scream so I have tumblred instead.

Tl;dr That's okay, I will almost certainly delete this tomorrow. Oh, and I will replace it with a happy thing, promise!

#personal #wow that's long

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thevampirearcher-md · 3 years ago

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something med school didn't cover - accurate (#3) 🩺

they're getting to know each other, my two dears

also on ao3

Evenings bring a certain kind of peace to a paediatrics ward - there’s the muffled steady beeps from the ICU beyond the glass door at the end of the hallway, there’s the faint sounds of televisions and children’s music drifting out from beneath room doors, there’s the occasional squeal of joy or screech of hunger of the younger inpatients, but wards are peaceful in the evenings. Activity winds down to the point where Denali feels relaxed enough to go back to the locker-room for the book she’s brought along.

Twenty-four hour shifts are ideal occasions to read - or do crosswords, if you’re her mother. But to Denali, reading is the perfect activity to keep her brain awake and occupied enough not to think about the late hour or the silence she’s been plunged into.

“Hey!”

The voice startles her - a sound that doesn’t belong in the evening atmosphere of the ward. It’s coming from the doctor’s lounge, the room whose lights she had just turned off. She’d thought it deserted - the attending on call had locked himself in the office and the resident on call was downstairs in the emergency room, ready to tackle all the cases that would be walking in. She thought she’d be economical.

She pushes the door to reveal a sight she didn’t think she’d be faced with: doctor McCorkell sitting at one of the desks, with her hair down around her shoulders and a pained expression on her face. Spread out in front of her are two charts - one brand new and blank and another one that has carefully been stuck together with clear tape.

“Why are you still here?” Denali’s brow furrows.

Rosé only huffs, gesturing to the messy pile in front of her. Seeming defeated, she stands, walking over to the coffee machine. Its sound startles the calm atmosphere of the evening. It takes a long while for it to warm up, whirring and sputtering in the silence. Rosé’s pink mug is already filling up by the time Denali realises the silence almost borders on weird.

“I don't get it,” she’s still rooted to her spot in the doorframe, so she takes a step into the room, leaving her book on the couch near the door.

“Professor Visage has torn another one of my charts,” Rosé shrugs, sipping her coffee.

“Another one?” Denali’s eyebrow rises.

“At least, this one she tore in the hallway, I’ll call that improvement,” Rosé jokes.

“Over what?”

Denali knows about Professor Visage’s habit of tearing apart charts that don't follow her guidelines, but she didn’t think it could happen to doctor McCorkell of all people. It is an unspoken agreement among the attentings on the ward that she is the best intern of her generation.

“Tearing them in the room next to the mothers?” she throws herself back into the chair and scans the papers again.

“When did this happen?”

Rosé breathes out a startled chuckle. “Today?” It’s her turn to quirk her eyebrows at the woman in front of her. “I really don't want to know what would happen if I took my time to redo them.”

“Wait…” Denali breathes out as the cogs in her mind turn. “This is not the first time that this happens?”

“Nurse Foxx,” Rosé begins, only to be interrupted.

“Denali,” she corrects automatically, even though none of the other interns will get to call her that for a good long while. Not even some of the upper-level residents call her by her name.

“Fine, Denali, don’t tell me you haven't noticed it,” Rosé laughs. The way she says her name is careful, slow, steady and rounding out every syllable. A complete contrast from the rest of her sentence, playful and teasing.

Denali’s pause is more than answer enough for Rosé, who smiles. “I would have hoped you were paying more attention to me, but I guess now I know,” she sips her coffee again, focusing back on the work she still has to do.

“It’s just that I never would have expected it to happen to you, Doctor McCorkell,” her lips move of their own accord, drawing the ginger’s attention back to her, and her legs move of their own accord, bringing her closer to the desk she has claimed.

The ginger’s eyes narrow. “Rosé, please. I stop being doctor McCorkell,” her face scrunches up at the name, “as soon as I clock out.”

“We’re still working,” Denali reminds her.

“No,” the ginger shakes her head, momentarily drawing Denali’s attention to her luscious curls, which she has let flow free of her usual bun. “You’re still working, I’ve been off for…” she turns her wrist to check her watch. “the last four hours,” she smirks.

Denali nods. “Fine, I didn’t expect it to happen to you, Rosé.”

“Oh, but it does… almost every week,” another shrug, as if it doesn't even bother her anymore. “Usually, though I would have figured it out by now and crawled back home to my bed and my Nelson,” she explains and Denali’s brain starts to piece it together - Rosé out of scrubs and in pyjamas, Rosé in a bed, Rosé reading a paediatrics book before bed.

“Need any help?”

Professor Visage is a particular person - someone who wants things done a certain way, who corrects people and gives out advice to improve everyone. She holds the people who work with her - attendings, residents, even nurses - to the same high standard that she holds herself. They’re working in one of the best paediatrics wards in the country because of it.

But it does sometimes scare away the interns.

“Would you?” Rosé’s eyes light up. “I don’t think I can stand to look at it much more,” she deflates. “And I’ve assured Doctor Luzon that I wouldn’t need her help, so now I’m embarrassed to call her,” she runs her hand through her hair, straightening it out to its full lenght and Denali refuses to be mesmerised by its colour.

Denali laughs, stretching over the table. She notices, sneakily out of the corner of her eye, how Rosé’s body slightly tenses up at the sudden closeness, but she smirks - a tiny pull of her lips, too small for the doctor to see it. Her hands grip the torn chart as she finds a spot to perch on the corner of the desk.

“Got a red pen?”

Rosé’s eyes narrow. “Aren’t you funny?” Her lips clamp shut as she bites back the ‘baby’ that she tends to sneak into almost every sentence that she says. Still, it’s too familiar a term. It would bring Nurse Foxx uncomfortably close.

“This,” she says, her finger pointing to a place on the second page that Rosé recognises to be the family history. “She really hates this wording,” she explains. “Says it leaves too much up for interpretation.”

Rosé huffs. “Interesting,” she murmurs. “I don’t even know how else I’m supposed to say that,” her brows furrow in focus, revealing a little crease between them.

“In the standard wording?”

“My mentor back home hated that,” she murmured, “but I guess, that’s it, Rosie, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she grabs for the new chart and her trusty pen and starts scribbling fervently.

“You went to med school in Kansas?” It’s Denali’s turn to furrow her brows. She had figured that Rosé hadn’t graduated from NYU, the med school that sent its student doctors over to be taught in their hospital, but she’d never let her curiosity wander further.

“U of T in Austin, actually. Yee haw!” she gestures vaguely with the hand that’s not writing, mimicking the tipping of a hat. Denali giggles.

“Why come to New York then?” she asks, before she can think any better of why she needs to know.

“Here,” Rosé pushes the newly written chart towards her. “That sound better?” Denali nods and she starts writing again. “Besides the illustrious reputation of Professor Visage and her ward?”

Denali rolls her eyes.

“My sister got divorced last year and, it turns out, that being alone with three kids is a lot,” she explains, her attention still split between their conversation and the chart. “I came to provide support,” she shrugs.

“That’s very nice of you,” Denali musses.

“Yeah, well, she’s one of my two favourite sisters,” she winks, finishing up the chart with her flourish of a signature. “That look good to you?”

“How many do you have?”

“Sisters? Just the two, but they’re both my favourite people on earth… And they both live here now,” she smiles. There’s an obvious fondness in her eyes that Denali knows far too well. She adores her siblings, too, even if they all live in different corners of the United States.

She mirrors her smile before her eyes scan over the paper in front of her. “Perfect.”

Rosé’s shoulders slump forward. “Great, I’m feckin’ beat,” she says on a low breath. Nobody ever believed that Rosé “I-curse-every-other-word” McCorkell had gone into paediatrics, where swear words were not even supposed to exist.

Denali’s expression turns slightly pained. She still has half a shift left.

“How do you take your coffee?”

Denali’s attention snaps back to Rosé, standing next to the coffee machine, whose whirring she hadn’t even noticed. “Milk and two sugars,” she answers automatically.

“One of these days, I’ll get you some actual good coffee,” Rosé says, busying herself with mixing in Denali’s two sugar packets. “But until then,” she hands the steaming paper cup over the desk, “thank you, Denali,” she winks. “Have a good night.”

#rosenali #rosenali ff #hospital au #omgheyrose #denali foxx

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

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Illicit Affairs: Beautiful Rooms Pt. 1

Previous: You Made Me

Pairings: Namjoon & Reader (Barely)

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Ratings: PG15

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Therapy and Swearing

Summary: Namjoon arrives in LA to begin the work he promised he would do.

Listen: illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

Namjoon lays in his plane-bed, headphones blasting D-2, Daechwita, on a blind loop. The sky is dark, 30,000+ feet in the air, he knows he should be sleeping, resting at the bare minimum. But he can’t, melatonin not kicking in just yet, and his mind is too wired, filled with concerns.

Over a two months ago, after the reckoning, Namjoon put his plans into action. You can’t take managements King, and Queen, and bishops and rooks, without having a plan for total annihilation. Namjoon decided, though without much discussion with Jungkook, what they both needed. What would be the best for both of them, and the rest of Bangtan, was guarantees in their contracts that Bang and Co wouldn’t manipulate them anymore. No more calorie counting, no more extra pay for working out more, no more using Namjoon as a weapon against Jungkook or the others. To do this, Namjoon brought in other lawyers who negotiated with Bang’s team, and in the end the seven men amended their contracts. Gone were the clauses about who they could date, gone was the clause that they couldn’t date, period, gone was Run BTS and the trickery management went through to get the men to perform. They would have ownership of their work going forward, and ownership of their work all the way back to the first Love Yourself album.

Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi and Jin were shocked when their contracts were handed back, careful to read through the changes. They’d been floored, wondering how Namjoon and Jungkook’s brawl could’ve resulted in this swift change in their deals. Namjoon had put it simply: change or we sue. Big Hit knew that if BTS sued them, they’d take the house, the plastic plants in the lobby, the stock options and the futures of every person on the label. They had the option to lose everything, or to surrender, tails between their legs, to the gods that are BTS.

Namjoon knew that if this had happened three months prior, even two years, he wouldn’t have had the weight needed to push the deal through. But, in their decade plus at Big Hit, their level of power and influence, the fact that they had never signed NDA’s coupled with Namjoon’s intricate diaries, Namjoon recognized he had the power to take everything. Bang and Sejin were scared. They knew that they had a limited amount of time before BTS revolted, and if they were revolting with evidence, there was no possible solution that ended in Big Hit’s favor.

With their new contracts came one request from Bang, Sejin and the five other members of Bangtan, one request that was truly a demand: fix Jungkook and Namjoon.

Fixing Jungkook meant fixing Namjoon’s relationship to the maknae, which is how he finds himself flying across the globe to LA. Getting Jungkook help, away from prying eyes, was his idea. He and his love had brainstormed what would help Jungkook get through this, and this was the solution:

Jungkook would spend 3-6 months in LA undergoing rigorous outpatient therapy

Jungkook would be booked for exhaustion, body dysmorphia, alcoholism, and a host of other issues Namjoon could’ve spent his entire flight listing

Jungkook would rehearse in LA and fly back for specific stages but would otherwise record and work in LA while he went to therapy five days a week

Detox would come first, followed by a month of inpatient treatment

Then, Jungkook would be settled in his outpatient apartment, with a few Big Hit bodyguards around 24/7

Jungkook would have a sponsor in Korea and in the states, whom he reported to,

Jungkook is required to attend AA meetings twice a week for the first three months

Namjoon, would attend therapy twice a week in Korea,

Namjoon would fly to LA to spend a month going through treatment with Jungkook

To this, they signed their names, to the promise of something better, to the hope they would find common ground. Jungkook was packed and on a plane 48 hours later. The two men had some contact through music and through their group chat, but otherwise, Jungkook kept to himself. He loved LA, the sun, the ability to exercise outside every day of the week, the blue skies… There was a level of health that came with LA, and of course the seedy underbelly of diet culture, but for Jungkook, it was a welcome change. Everyone breathed in LA, they weren’t rushing to meet deadlines or get anywhere on time, they didn’t have the next five years planned on a detailed spreadsheet. LA was relaxed, it was breezy, and with its endless supply of green juice, it was the exact place Jungkook needed to be.

He diligently went to therapy, working exclusively with Dr. Aarons on the years of abuse he’d endured. Wrapping his mind around what had happened to him, not as love, not as building his character or strengthening his work ethic, but as a traumatic state of emotional abuse, was harder to swallow than two horse tranquilizers without water. Dr. Aarons gave him books and pamphlets on trauma and emotional abuse, which in his off hours, he read. His first month in treatment was spent in therapy sessions, a weekly Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) session, monitored exercise to help reteach him how to use his body, and reading to discuss. Some days felt like high school, or training days, when he was required to both train for debut and be a high school student. He hated it, hated studying, hated school, but to get better he had to do the work. All he could hope was at the end of this he’d feel better, maybe he'd be better too.

Dr. Aaron’s agreed, for the two men to make progress, to find common ground again, they needed to work through their Kilimanjaro sized problems.

A month into treatment, Jungkook was ready and willing to begin working on repairing his most treasured relationship.

“Namjoon, thank you for joining us here,” Dr. Aarons says, eyes darting between Jungkook, who was freshly showered and bouncing his leg up and down, and Namjoon, stoic, perched on the edge of his chair. Dr. Aarons can tell that Namjoon is less prepared than Jungkook, which is why she is in full control of this session.

“It’s, yeah, glad to be here,” Namjoon says, head bowing.

“I am first generation and am fluent in both English and Korean. My maiden name is Park,” Dr. Aarons smiles, letting Namjoon into her stratification of both cultures. “We can flow from English to Korean at any point.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon bows again.

“This first session is just to create a welcoming and safe space for Jungkook to see you again. Soon he will be off, and you and I will have a bit of time to talk. I have been in communication with your therapist back in Seoul, and he has given me his thoughts as well as points that we can continue to work on as a triad. Jungkook, is there something you wanted to say to Namjoon before you go?”

Jungkook looks at his brother, irises rising to meet his sun-twin. Namjoon’s eyes are tired, heavy, his lids weighty as he continues to battle some jetlag. Jungkook looks fucking fantastic, the sun and balanced eating working wonders on him.

“Thank you, hyung, for being here, and thank you for being willing to work on this with me. I still hold love for you in my heart, though I don’t have to. We’ve both fucked up. I am sorry for punching you, well, beating you up, and I hope you can forgive me, if not today, at some point. And again, thank you, hyung, for fighting for me,” Jungkook’s voice breaks as he utters his last words, eyes dropping to his hands.

“Jungkook, you did great,” Dr. Aarons reassures.

“Thank you, Jungkookie, for being, forgiving, for still wanting to speak to me, to work with me, it,” Namjoon clears his throat, that familiar lump forming. “I know I let you down. I will always be sorry,”

“I know, me too,”

“Jungkook, thank you for being here today. I will see you tomorrow for our first session as a group.” Dr. Aaron’s gave the go-ahead for Jungkook to leave, and he did swiftly, giving Namjoon the chance to confide in Dr. Aarons.

“Thank you, for doing this,” Namjoon spoke.

“This was your idea, correct? The therapy, detox, all of it?”

“Yes,” Namjoon feels the blood rush to his cheeks.

“From what I understand, you’re kind of a genius, right?”

“In music, I suppose,”

Reaching for her notepad, Dr. Aarons’ glances down. “Mm, I spoke with Dr. Cho,”

“Yes?”

“He was very insightful, gave me lots of great notes and things to discuss. I wanted to start by saying that I understand the levels of abuse you went through,” She raises her head to meet his unsteady gaze, clocking the flustered expression.

“Yes,”

“The manipulation, the invalidation, the pain. Namjoon, no one should have to experience all of that, and yet, here you are. You are strong, you are powerful, you are dedicated to your brothers. None of it excuses what you have done, but what I want to convey to you, is that a lot of your actions were not your fault.” Dr. Aarons’ runs through the list of compliments she had jotted down, notes of what to say to create a safe space for Namjoon.

“I, I know,”

“I know you do; I also know that isn’t how you see it.” Dr. Aarons’ sets her pen down and recrossed her legs, eyes never straying from him. She’s formidable, honored and esteemed throughout the community, domestically and abroad. Namjoon knew, he helped picked her, she was the reason Jungkook was here.

“I still did the actions,” Namjoon sighs, “I still followed through with the plan,”

“Yes, but the cost to you and your life was exquisite. You were a pawn,”

“Now I am the victor,” He mumbles.

“Tell me, Namjoon, how old did you feel when you and Jungkook fought?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook’s recounted his memory of that night, but how did you feel? In that moment when he hit you, what age specifically did you feel?”

He takes a moment to think, but the answer is in front of him immediately. “Fifteen,”

“What happened at 15?”

He shifts nervously, the rapid speed of his speech slowing as he spoke. “I was still being scouted by Big Hit, no contracts, just negotiations. My parents were, unsupportive.”

“Within the Seoul rap community, you were making a name for yourself,” Dr. Aarons’ didn’t have to be living in Korea at the time to know who he was, everyone in the first gen community who still had any ties back home knew. You couldn’t listen to music without his mixes coming through. “Yeah, but that only gets you so far. I was talking to Bang about these big plans for a super group, a group that combined rapping and pop, some bridge between the two and other genres… the places were going to go seemed endless.”

“How did you feel in those negotiations?”

Joon smiles. “I felt, ten feet tall. I mattered in those meetings,”

“And to your parents?” Dr. Aaron’s questions.

“I was just their high schooler, hormonal, with dreams bigger than my mind could hold. They, they didn’t want me to do it,”

“But you went for it,” She smiles gently.

“I did, yeah,” Namjoon, hates flattery. Call it his sun sensibility, his rays unable to shine under the humility of the grey cloud he kept above himself.

“What else happened around that time?” She presses.

Namjoon nods again, knowing exactly where she’s leading him. “That’s when I started receiving a lot of hate,”

“Mm, tell me about that,”

“Do I have to?” He asks, voice no longer strong and steady.

“Not if you don’t want to,” She replies.

“It’s just,” Namjoon sighs. “It still hurts.”

“I expect it to. The comments were very personal,”

“About how I look, about the shape of my nose, the sound of my voice, that I’ll never amount to anything and BTS is just, complete trash passing off as music.” He rattles off the ones that plague him, when self-doubt creeps in, the comments that still rise to the top of the pack.

“They escalated, didn’t they?”

“Don’t they always?”

She smiles softly, a precursor to the next blow. “Did you internalize them?”

“Yes,”

“When Jungkook hit you,” She starts.

“It was like every internet troll finally getting their chance to swing,” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to finish the thought.

“Ahh, there it is.” Dr. Aaron’s allows Namjoon a minute to sit in the realization. “What hurt the most? The physical pain, or the emotional weight you put behind it?”

“I haven’t thought about it like that,” He realizes.

“Well let’s think about it now,” Her voice is kind, leading him to the pasture but never feeding. No wonder everyone raved about her.

“It was the emotions,” He concedes.

“Can you describe what those emotions were?”

“Anger, frustration, inadequacy, disappointment, like I had just shattered the entire world I’d given every bit of myself to creating.”

“That wasn’t why Jungkook was hitting you, though,” Dr. Aarons’ informs him.

“It wasn’t?”

“You tell me, why would he be hitting you?”

“I,” Namjoon exhales, “I betrayed him.”

“Did you let him down?”

“Yes,”

“But did he view you as inadequate?” She pushes.

“No,” Namjoon whispers, voice caught between his vocal chords as the waves of tears start to gain on him.

Dr. Aarons’ smiles again, “No, has he ever?”

“No,” Namjoon shakes his head, hand wiping the tears that have fallen.

“It seems to me like it’s quite the opposite. Jungkook loves you, pure and simple.”

“I betrayed him,” Namjoon argues.

“Betrayal and inadequacy are often put together, at least in our minds. We betray someone, or a relationship, because it’s either not enough for us, or because it’s too much. The dissonance between you and Jungkook is that his anger is misplaced, he can claw at you because you are there, you are present, you are with him every day. He’s shooting the messenger, but you didn’t write the messages, Namjoon.”

“I don’t know if he understands that,”

“There’s only so much I can do to separate what he feels towards you, and what he realizes isn’t your fault. In our time together, as a trio, we will hopefully work towards understanding these complexities within your relationship. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good,”

“Great! I don’t have any work for you, other than, well, a major piece of homework,”

“Bring it on,” Namjoon loves work. Pure and simple.

“You can’t have dinner with Jungkook tonight, or engage with him in a private setting,” Dr. Aarons’ instructs.

“Makes sense,” Namjoon agrees.

“We’ll begin work on it tomorrow, but until then, you have to stay apart,”

“I can do that, we’re staying in separate places,”

“Great, Namjoon, I am really looking forward to working with you,” Dr. Aarons stands. “I hope you enjoy your day in LA,”

“See you tomorrow,” Namjoon smiles gratefully before exiting her office, his phone at the ready, texts from Yoongi and Hoseok, Taehyung and the rest of Bangtan to check in on him. And then there’s the text from his love, who as he steps into the sun, is waiting for him.

“Joon of my eye, what a pleasure it is to see you,”

Though the smile is clearly plastered across his face, it’s the way his arms circle your waist, head nuzzling into your neck, lips pressing firmly to your skin.

“I fucking missed you,” He mutters.

“You’re being so affectionate, in public,”

“No one’s here,” Namjoon says, head still resting against your shoulder.

“That eye opening, huh?” Your hands move up and down his back, the comfort radiating from your familiar embrace.

“Mm, can we go?” He asks, standing to his full height.

“To your place?”

“Anywhere,” He slips his sunglasses over his eyes, the mist beginning to cloud his vision.

“Of course,” You respond, hand finding his, fingers intertwining. With his baseball cap pulled low on his head, Namjoon is barely recognizable. He doesn’t hesitate to move his free hand across your shoulders, holding onto you as you guide him to your rental car. He might’ve been the messenger of Bang’s threats and manipulations, but a pawn is still a pawn. Namjoon had taken the board in his game against Big Hit, but in Jungkook’s universe, under Jungkook’s rules, he’s still a piece in motion.

Next: Beautiful Rooms Pt. 2

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lizacstuff · 3 years ago

Text

Bölüm 45 asks

Plus a few asks from 44, and one about the fragman for 46

Read more under the cut

Anonymous asked: I cannot believe that Ayse revived the "Kemal is Serkan's real father" theory but I think I'm down for it? At least now Kiraz has one decent grandparent and he seems like genuinely nice man. I've been wishing for him to have some scenes with Serkan because the way they set up this S2 plot, they could relate to one another and I was sad to see that he spent 5 years hiding instead

I'm down for this plot! See, now that I know they're doing the long-lost-father plot, it makes all the sense in the world why Serkan doesn't like Kemal and they didn't forge a relationship in the last five years. If they had, then finding out he's his dad would have been a lot less jarring and dramatic. Finding out now and then forging the relationship I think will be a bit more meaty story so it works for me.

To me this story works on a lot of levels, and makes sense with who Serkan is and his very strained relationship with Alptekin. It's like Alptekin sensed it, and resented Serkan his whole life. For those worried that Serkan will no longer have the last name Bolat, I'm not sure where that's coming from. Maybe I'm just not familiar with other cultures, but that is his name, Alptekin raised him, adults don't just up and change their name because of genetics. If you're adopted and you meet your bio dad as an adult, you don't change your name to your bio dad's.

Serkan's name is very much a part of his identity. Which is why this story has so much potential, because it could shake Serkan to his very core to find out who he thought he was, was wrong. He thought he was unlovable, most importantly maybe he'll finally realize there was more at play there and it wasn't at fault.

Anonymous asked: There were a couple things in the last episode that didn't sit well with me. 1. I can't believe Eda made Serkan sleep outside at night and didn't feel bad in the morning when she realized he got sick! 2. The way Seyfi announced Aydan and Kemal's secret relationship. It wasn't his secret to tell, though Aydan did deserve the way everyone reacted. So I got over that pretty quick. 3. Burak!!! He's not the one for Melo. She deserves better and if they end up together in the end, I'm gonna protest.

1. Unless you're going to put the same energy into not believing that Serkan had the gal to remove his bed on the floor as a way to maneuver himself into Eda's bed before she was ready, I really can't relate. It was done for comedy, my advice is to unclench and just giggle along.

2. Or you could look at it as being unfair of Aydan to burden Seyfi with that secret and require he lie to his other employer for five years. I mean I don't disagree that it wasn't his secret to tell, but Aydan had plenty of chances, and it was time for it to come out.

3. This one we are in 100% agreement about. MELO DESERVES BETTER. I will die on this hill.

Anonymous asked: Hi! Do you think Serkan actually believes in Kerem's abilities (he trusts Eda's faith in Kerem) or is this part of his plan to win Eda back? Either way I'm okay, just wondering what you think.

No, I do not think he gained a sudden belief in Kerem's abilities, but I do think he believes in Eda. And if Eda believes in Kerem then when push comes to shove that is enough for Serkan. Of course, he did it as part of his plan to win Eda back. Serkan is taking every opportunity to let Eda know that he respects her and believes in her and I think this was another example of that. There was also an aspect of him trying to win over another person in Eda's circle who was suspicious of him. The fewer people he has working against him, the better! He knows he has no shot with Burak or Ayfer, so this episode he worked on Melo and Kerem. But mostly it was him trying to make Eda's life easier, by smoothing over a personnel problem she was having, thus making working out of Art Life a more attractive option for her. All of those things in one!

Anonymous asked: What do you think about Eda and Piril's friendship? This episode really highlighted how close they've gotten.

Yes, they have gotten close, and I'm happy Eda has a friend, but at the same time I don't trust Piril. This is a woman who discarded Eda and embraced Selin when she was manipulating and abusing a brain-damaged Serkan.

Eda might be able to forget, but I can't. Also as a character she's just boring, rigid and humorless. One of my least favorites on screen.

That being said I do like the triad dynamic of Kiraz/Can, Serkan/Engin, and Eda/Piril, it was fun when they were calling each other at the same time.

Anonymous asked: Idk if they reached out to Maya just because she looked like Hande considering she had no acting experience, but this little girl is like the best casting I've seen. The chemistry with Hande and Kerem is amazing. She's so expressive. I am a Kiraz stan.

She's doing a fantastic job, precious thing! I have no idea how they found her, I know she was an instagram model, but the SCK casting director strikes again. This season doesn't work if we don't fall in love with Kiraz. Thankfully, we did!

Anonymous asked: Hi! Since it seems that we will have 13 episodes, do you think that Edser reconciliation/wedding will be left for the finale, 12-13 ep? Cause Ayse loves to drag and keep them apart.

I think the wedding might be closer to the end, but I think reconciliation will be a bit sooner than that.

However, I have to say that it's really not like they're apart.. is it? I mean this episode we had them living together, sort of casually planning their future together. Next episode we have them pretending to be married and ramping up the sexual tension to white-hot-sun levels, these are all good things. With episodes like this, I don't personally consider the show dragging it out.

In fandom I see a lot of peeps upset because Eda isn't getting immediately back with Serkan and I am feeling inpatient as well, do you think the writers are making a mistake keeping them apart?

Again, I guess my response to you is, by what definition was this episode "keeping them apart?"

Yes, they aren't having sex, but they are living together, working together, raising their daughter together, and I'm a-okay with having a couple of delicious episodes of that while they are still not fully back together romantically. Let's be real, they're still waking up in bed together, flirting, and having a romantic dinner together, so it's not like things aren't moving forward, they are. I'd advise putting aside your impatience, and just sit back, relax, and let the story take its course. There is no need to be anxious with this one. They are going to end up with their happily ever after together, but what we're seeing right now is delightful. It's them in family and domestic situations, them with their child. Most shippers only dream of getting to see this.

This sort of goes back to my stance on episodes 16-24, I know that was a frustrating time for a lot of fans because they were "broken up" but I've always said they may have been officially broken up, but they were in a committed relationship that entire time. And I enjoyed those episodes from that perspective, that tension of them being "apart" but still functioning as a unit and still being emotionally tied together underneath it all. There's kind of a similar situation here, they aren't officially back together, Eda is resisting him, but they are in a committed relationship and I don't understand what the need is to rush through this part? Enjoy the sexual tension of them living together, but not sleeping together. Enjoy the rom com romp of Serkan trying to get in her bed, and Eda taking steps to keep him out. Enjoy their daughter putting them in situations that force them into close proximity, and enjoy them falling into easy compatibility without even trying. Enjoy Serkan planning romantic dinners, and Eda enjoying it despite her every effort to protect her heart.

To me this is very good stuff, and spending this time being impatient and wanting what didn't happen yet, instead of enjoying what did happen is pretty much the recipe for unhappiness not just with this show, but life.

Anonymous asked: i feel like i've seen the exact same frustrations ppl have had with eda right now back around the 20s too after serkan told her about her parents' secret. it was like, now that he's told her the truth, she should automatically forgive him and get back together. same thing happening here, with him accepting his role as kiraz's father. it feels like the same impatience that's put on eda to just forgive him already bc everyone wants happy edser and she's in the way lol.. like girl needs time!

Agreed, and it makes me wonder if these folks have ever watched television before, lmao. Patience! There's a story unfolding and from the first 6 episodes it's clear they have a season long arc planned. All in due time.

Eda spent five years thinking that Serkan stopped loving her, and discarded her for work. The second time he used that excuse to break her heart. My goodness, it's more than okay if she needs a little time to adjust and learn how to trust him again. PLUS that means we get to watch him work on her, try to make inroads, romance her, forge a relationship with his daughter and earn Eda's trust back. What's bad in that?

What did you think of the fragman? It's kind of dumb and unrealistic that they have to dance for a school admission interview.

LMAO. Yes, yes it is, but my question to you is, sana ne?

I mean why do you care if the set up is dumb or not? Or if it's realistic? It's a device to get Serkan and Eda to pretend to be married before they're fully back together and an excuse for us to see Edser smash themselves together in a sensual tangle of limbs while they pretend to be unaffected, while both are being engulfed in USTy flames.

I'm not complaining, why are you?

Come on, this show is silly, it has been from day one, enjoy the fact that we are getting silly plots that force our couple into hilarious and hot situations, because Hande and Kerem are going to give us gold, I guarantee it and I'm going to smile through every second watching it.

xxxxxxxxxx

These asks are from episode 44, they came in and I didn't have time to answer before 45 aired:

Anonymous asked: Do you think there is a point when there are too many “parallels” and it becomes more like scenes are being recycled? Because I kinda felt that way in the last episode. Like she’s just tossing in as many things as she can from those first 11 episodes but I’ve already watched those and Id rather we focus more character progression. I feel like they regressed from those honest conversations last week and were back to being petty this week.

I guess my answer is... no, I don't think there have been too many parallels. Episode 44 was partly about truth bubbling to the surface, with the biggest truth being that Serkan has been in love with Eda every minute of every day since they parted. That is a very important thing for Eda to understand and know and they really can't move forward until she does, because she felt unloved and forgotten all those years. Most of the parallels were illustrating that by showing that he held on to their history, he remembered their history and he honored it. Okay by me.

Anonymous asked: There were some amazing dialogues in the episode. I have two that tie for top. One was when Kiraz said that Serkan was her wish (when blowing her birthday candles), and the other was when Serkan said Apollo was never going to give up on the woman he loves nor on the cherries! Oh my heart had feels both times. What were your favourite dialogues in the episode?

Oh man my head is in 45 now, but both of those examples of yours were great. I loved both of them.

The other than springs to mind is while fishing, Eda telling Serkan that he didn't need to be perfect for Kiraz to love him, he just had to be himself.

Swoon.

That's so important for Serkan to hear, because he doesn't think he's worthy of love as himself, so hearing that from Eda is impactful.

Anonymous asked: reading your ep review, i think a big reason some people are hanging on to hate the s2 plot no matter what are just bc they hate the writer. of course not everyone, but a lot of people will just hate on anything she writes out of spite, even if objectively the episode is very good. idk why that is or when ppl decided they hated her but it's not warranted at all imo. i can understand not liking the premise of this season, but after watching it so far there has been SUCH an improvement edser-wise.

People can like, dislike, love, hate anything they want. Consuming entertainment doesn't have to be a team sport. That being said, from what I've seen I'd agree with your assessment. Teams have formed (Anti-Ayse, Pro-Ayse, etc) and the former are too invested in hating everything she does, the former possibly too forgiving at times. That's their choice, but I have to say I feel bad for the anti brigade, this is a show they loved, and most of them are still watching, but they've completely sabotaged themselves from finding any joy in any of it and I think they're going to regret it once it's over.

Also season 2 is so much better than I thought it could be. I honestly thought there was no way to get back to the early quality, but it's here. The show is really watchable and fun this season, and it's a shame for those who've let their attitudes get so negative that they can't enjoy it.

Anonymous asked: Ok so I'm aware this would be highly uncharacteristic of a dizi - but if they know there's only 6 eps left, my dream would be no more big bad events and just spend it rebuilding EdSer as a couple and a family. Would that be too much to ask lol. They've jumped from one disaster to another. Since we're at the end & they have the luxury of knowing it, I just want to see them working through things as a real unit. They've dated for like 7 eps out of 45? Can we get that above 10 at least????

Congratulations! Because that's exactly what we've gotten so far in season 2. Once we got past the trauma of the 5 year time jump, all the drama has been internal to Eda and Serkan and their relationship. The whole season so far has been about rebuilding Edser as a couple and a family. And if you're watching without the tauntruming twitter teens in your ear, you'd realize we ARE watching them work through things as a real unit.

I'll say this until I'm blue in the face (apparently) just because they are not currently sexing each other up, does not mean they aren't emotionally doing all the things necessary to reach their full potential as a couple.

They are. It's happening. Enjoy it.

#Sen Çal Kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #sckask #sck 2x45 #sck 2x06 #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #asklizac

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gnar-slabdash · 4 years ago

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I made my friend watch Leverage with me and we just finished season 5 last night. He asked something I haven't considered about the reboot - how are they going to explain Sophie coming back but not Nate when in the season finale Nate proposed and they left together? Now I'm worried they're going to break up Nate and Sophie. Any thoughts on how they'll explain Nate not being in the reboot?

BOY HOWDY have I ever got some thoughts on that. ALL OF THESE THOUGHTS HURT. The fact is there is no way this can go that will not hurt me in one way or another, and I’m just gonna have to accept that. That said, here are some options. . . . 1) This isn’t my own idea, but I saw somebody kind of jokingly suggest they write it as sort of a comedy of errors where Nate is still AROUND but constantly JUST misses being onscreen, and actually I kind of love it. Having loved both Frasier and Columbo growing up (one of these aged much better than the other lol), I LOVE the trope of the character who’s talked about all the time but never seen. I don’t think they should ACTUALLY do this because it feels too irreverant to me, but then again, maybe I’m just In Too Deep and it’s actually exactly the right level of irreverant. Regardless, it’s fun to imagine all the different ways it could go. 2) Similar but less funny, I would honestly be okay with it if they just had a decent reason why Nate couldn’t be there for the entire season/series/whatever -- not that he and Sophie broke up, but just that he has something else to do. He’s on his boat incommunicado and doesn’t even know this is happening. He’s running Leverage Europe. He’s in inpatient rehab. All totally plausible options that maintain the status quo, which is not a super dynamic way to handle it, but it is a solid possibility. 3) This next one is actually my FAVORITE idea, but it’s VERY ANGSTY and VERY SPECIFIC to the very particular type of angst that I love. In the Hannibal Lecter BOOKS, at the end of the first book Will Graham’s wife/girlfriend/partner/whatever breaks up with him while he’s in the hospital after being brutally attacked and horribly scarred. Then from then on, we never hear from him again except for ONE LINE in the next book that reveals how he is now bumming around in Florida drinking too much and fixing boats. It’s just such a horribly desolate way to abandon a main character, and my angsty crimebrain would LOVE for the same thing to happen to Nate. I don’t expect it to happen because on the surface it looks like it’s reversing his character arc, and that’s a horrible thing to do. But if you look a little closer? There’s a lot that goes unresolved. He never actually quits drinking, the crew just stops treating it as a serious problem. It’s kind of implied that he’s cut back such that it’s NOT a problem anymore, but it’s still pretty much constant and it’s GOING to get worse if anything changes for the worse. And speaking of things changing for the worse, Nate never actually resolves the question of what he will DO when he quits the crew. Sophie has directing and teaching; she’ll be fine. Nate has. . . . a boat. . . . and Sophie. A boat and a Sophie, while both great things, are NOT the makings of a productive life, especially for someone like Nate. He’s going to be bored out of his skull. And when he gets bored, he causes problems, mostly for himself. He’s going to either be extremely clingy and base his life around Sophie, which will be awful for her, or he’s going to just disappear on the boat without telling her for weeks at a time. And he is going to drink more. So I absolutely consider it plausible and in character for Nate to ruin what he has going at the end of Season Five, and wind up in Florida, fixing boats and drinking too much. And if it were me writing it, that’s what I’d do, and I’d even find a way to imply, without infringing on copyright, that Will Graham is his neighbor/drinking buddy/only friend. 4) You wanna know what I honestly think the writers are gonna do? I think they’re gonna kill him. And I think it’s gonna suck, but it’s gonna be the best possible option. There are so many things they can do with it. Sophie will obviously be the one to turn up for a visit out of the blue, to everyone’s excitement, only to burst all their bubbles when somebody asks “Where’s Nate?” Parker for sure will go on thinking that he’s faking for a heartbreakingly long time and then have a big moment where she accepts that he’s really dead. Eliot will take on the vengeance spree and have one of those conflicts where he has to decide whether to kill the guy responsible or whether doing so would undo everything he’s learned and worked for. Hardison has been playing snail-mail chess with Nate ever since he left and he will keep a half-finished game set up on the briefing room table for a very very long time until it gets knocked over somehow and then he has to really move on, and there’s a big moment where he resets the board and starts playing a new game with one of the new characters.

#leverage #nate ford #sophie devereaux #leverage 2.0

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aesthbaby · 4 years ago

Text

You’re going to be okay

Summary: Reader and Emily meet as ghosts in a hospital after a case

Pairings: Reader x Emily Prentiss (Emily x JJ implied)

Prompt: Reader and Emily as ghosts haunting the same place (School, hospital, house, whatever). Reader has been dead for a few years and helps Emily deal. They end up liking each other and maybe have ghost fun all over the place. ;)

Warnings: a handful of curse words | death | sadness

Word Count: 4k

Master List

Pt. 2

“What the hell...” the agent looks around the bright hospital room, she’s standing in the middle of the hallway while nurses and doctors rush past her. “Excuse me,” she reaches out to a nurse but the woman walks right past her. She turns in circles with a very confused expression.

“You’re okay,” you say as Emily whirls around to face you.

“I’m sorry, what?” She’s pretty and younger than most of the people you encounter.

You try to walk closer to her but she backs away and rests her hand on her gun. You laugh a little at that, but now comes the hard part. “I’m not going to hurt you. To be technical, I wouldn’t be able to do that even if I wanted to.”

“Wha-” she stammers, more people come rushing past the two of you. “Hey, that’s my team!” she starts to run after them but you appear in front of her, effectively blocking her path.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna do that.”

“Why can’t they see me?” she asks.

“Come with me.” you offer your hand but she doesn’t take it. You transport both of you into an empty inpatient room. “What’s your name?” you ask with a small smile but her eyes are narrowed on yours.

“I need to get back to my team.” she stands up and tries to head for the door but you block her path again. “How are you doing that?”

“Please,” you say softly while gesturing to the bed. “Sit down.” When you don’t make a move to faultier she reluctantly sits down on the hospital bed. “What’s your name?”

“Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss.” she answers professionally.

“Emily.” you say softly. “My name’s y/n but you can call me y/n/n’

“What is going on?” her eyes look a bit glossy but something tells you she’s not going to cry in front of you. You look into her dark eyes, she looks so tired and hurt. “Am I...” she chokes, almost shedding a tear. “Dead?” She whispers the word like it’s forbidden and she’ll be in trouble for saying it. Like she doesn’t want to accept the reality of it all.

You take her hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Emily-”

“Just tell me!” She demands

After a minute of silence you whisper, “Yes.” That’s when the dam cracks and you see a tear glide down her cheek.

“What happened?” she asks after a moment. Some spirits you’ve talked to have been completely distraught when they die because they remember how horrible their death was and how it all felt but luckily for her, she doesn’t remember yet. Which makes your job of transitioning her a lot easier.

“You were shot while working on a case, by someone your team calls ‘unsub.’ There’s another woman here by the name of ‘JJ,” her ears perk up at the mention. “You sacrificed yourself for her, the gun was aimed at her but you stood in the way. The bullet exited your body and went into her shoulder. JJ suffered a flesh wound but you didn’t make it out.” As you finish you see that her face is now full of despair, tears, and grief. “But that was a few days ago,” with her confused facial expression you continue, “To be fair I’m not completely positive about the timeline,” you almost laugh but now isn’t the time. “Spirits, ghosts if you may, do not have the greatest perception of time.” she doesn’t look very amused so you move on. “You were stuck in a type of limbo for a while but now you’re here.” You gesture around the room.

Now her face has morphed into a look of frustration. Uh oh...

“You say that like its a good thing.” She stands and marches out the room before you can do or say anything. When you catch up to her you decide not to stop her.

“Emily, where are you going?” You practically jog alongside her. Damn this girl can run.

“Where do you think I’m going? I need to find my team. She stops in her tracks when she realizes you’re both back where you started. “What the-” she looks up bright at the ceiling and squints from the overwhelming light.

“Ah,” you touch her arm in hopes of getting her attention. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why is everything so bright?” she asks while rubbing her eyes.

“Its always like that for new spirits, you’ll get used to it.”

“New spiri-” shit she looks angry “I’m not a spirit, ghost, whatever you want to call it.” She looks agitated, please don’t fuck this up. You’ve done your job well for years but there’s something different about her.

“Okay,” you hold your hands out towards her. “What do you want to do Emily?” you try to reason with her.

“I want to see my team.” she says sadly, it looks like she’s about to cry again.

“You want to see your team, okay, I can do that.” She nods in agreement and then starts to cry but only a little. “Emily, who do you really want to see?”

“Huh?” She looks up in confusion.

“Who do you really want to see?” You ask gently and a lot slower. “JJ? Is that who you want to check on?” She stares for a minute and then nods. “Okay,” she then starts to cry even more. “I can do that for you.” She collapses in your arms and you stroke her back sympathetically. While her head’s in your arms you transport both of you to the room where the woman named JJ is. She’s fixing coffee for herself in one of the ‘close family’ waiting rooms. They’re usually a lot smaller than the main waiting rooms and aren’t open to the public. Her arm is in a sling and she’s still wearing her work clothes. No wonder Emily is crazy about her, she’s beautiful. “See,” you lightly nudge Emily “She’s fine.”

The agent stands straight and looks over at JJ, she lets out a sigh of relief like she was holding her breath before. “She’s okay.” She walks over to the blonde and tries to hug her but she goes right through. She looks down at her hands like they’re foreign to her, then she starts to stammer.

“You can’t touch her Emily,” You pause before continuing, debating on if you should tell her the next part. “At least not right now.” Her red-rimmed eyes shoot up towards yours.

“What does that mean?”

“New ghosts are sort of the equivalent of newborns; weak and fragile, also very powerful in their own way. You know, with the strong lungs, untouched sense of taste, strong grips, and how close they are to the supernatural world. New spirits have light sensitivity, memory issues, time distortion, and have basically no control over their abilities. Not being able to touch, interact, or disrupt the physical world is one of the abilities you cannot control.”

“But I can try?” she looks hopeful “Right?”

“No Emily that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Irrational ideas are also prominent in new ghosts. You’re pretty smart Agent Prentiss and if you were in your right mind you’d know this is a crap idea.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Even if you could interact with her what would you do? Hug her? Write a note to her?” Her face gets even sadder, you take her hands in yours. “You’re not apart of their world anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be there for them.” you pull away from her “I’ll give you some time alone with her. Just sit with her for a bit, say your piece, do whatever you need to do.” Before leaving you turn back to her. “Although you cannot interact with her, she can still feel your presence. You love her?” she doesn’t say anything but its quite obvious. “Yeah, well if your love is strong enough, just you being here will give her a sense of comfort. I always hear doctors say that to the grieving but trust me, it’s real.” When you leave the room you make sure to stay close. Just in case Emily needs you or you have to stop her from trying to see herself.

What’s happening to her is sad and all but over the years you’ve seen thousands upon millions of spirits. The stories you’ve heard have been horrific, romantic, sad, violent, and on rare occasions, happy. A pedophile died in this hospital after being beaten within an inch of his life by a group of high school kids. Obviously it’s not something to be cheery about but he finally got what he deserved in the most painful way possible. Watching him wander through the halls covered in blood was entertaining and a happy ending for all. You watched him go into the darkness and the world felt a little lighter. Now he’s where he belongs.

There was also a couple that sacrificed themselves for each other. It kind of reminded you of Romeo and Juliet.

At some point all of the stories start to blur together, still, you remember them all. Its why you’re here.

“She’s going to be okay.” you hear Emily say from behind you. Her face is littered with tears so you decide to pull her in for a brief hug. “Right now she’s on the phone with Will, her husband.” There’s definitely a problem there. Sounded like she wanted to barf at the mention of him. “He and the kids are on their way here.” She takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug “Anything.”

“You said I was stuck in Limbo for a while, what did you mean by that?” Another thing you’re debating telling her, but it wouldn’t do any good to hold back.

“When people go into comas or any type of unconscious state they are brought to this empty mental space. It’s basically a representation of your self conscious, your safe space if you will. Everyones’ looks a little different. Most of the time you’ll have a spirit guide talking you through it. On rare occasion, there are some people who do not have a guide so your brain will use someone closest to you in order to help you through it. They usually help you decide what’s next.”

“Who was mine?”

“No idea.” and I’m met with a scuff “Its not my department.”

“Depart-” she narrows her eyes on you. “What is this a corporation?”

“No Emily its not like that.” Before you can finish she’s already walking away from you but she can get too far you blimp in front of her. “Only you know the answer to that question, I can’t get into your head. I only know a limited amount of information about Limbo because its not my place.”

“Then how do you know so much about me?”

“I...”

“Exactly!” I’m going to need this woman to stop storming off in the middle of a conversation. “You know a hell of a lot more than you’re letting on.”

“I’m telling you everything you need to know.” You ineffectively defend yourself.

She scuffs “What you're doing is proving my point.”

“Alright,” you stop her “Ask me anything.”

She seems to consider it and then after a minute, she begins. “Who are you?”

You’re speechless for a second, surprised by her first question. “Excuse me?”

“Who are you? You’ve told me nothing about yourself except your name. So who are you” Wow! You’re very forward.

“I’m honestly not sure how to answer that.”

“Are you a ghost, spirit, whatever?” She crosses her arms defensively.

“Yes. What else would I be?” you laugh a little at that.

She shrugs, “How do you seem to know so much about me?”

“Because I heard your team talking and sometimes I just get a feeling.” At her suspicious expression, you continue. “I’ve been around so long and met so many different people that I have sort of a 6th sense. I also heard your people talking about you and the incident.”

Her face morphs into that of sympathy.“How long have you been here?”

“Not long, a few years, maybe four or five. Its hard to tell. All I have to go on is medical charts, calendars, and other spirits.”

“What did you mean by ‘not my department?”

“It’s not a job in the sense you’re thinking.”

She looks almost hesitant to ask the next question. “How’d you die?”

You take a sharp intake before answering, “I was poisoned.” You feel a tear prick your eyes, you never talk about your death because you’re always busy dealing with everyone else’s. ‘‘The doctors did everything they could but it was too late, it had already reached my bloodstream.”

She looks as if she regrets her actions but if she cared she wouldn’t have asked that question. A bit rude in my opinion. “I’m so sorry.” She rubs your arm lightly.

“It’s okay.” You reassure her. “After my death, I stuck around, I became a Wanderer.” Before she can interrupt you again you quickly answer her unanswered question. “A Wandering spirit is one of the worse kinds. They died way before their time and left too many things unfinished in their life. Usually, your self conscious/Limbo stage is supposed to help with that but since I was never ‘unconscious’ I didn’t go through one.” You want to believe that you’re telling her all of this because she asked but its because she’s easy to talk to. Spirits are very selfish in your experience so its nice to have someone like her here to listen to you. Calling them “selfish” isn’t fair, they suffered major trauma and someone needed to help them through it. “It’s really hard to help a wanderer move on so there’s still 3 or 4 moving around but they don’t bother anyone. Most of them are busy trying to leave the hospital or get back to their bodies.”

“That is so sad.”

“I’ve tried my best to help them and I’ve been pretty helpful over the years but they just would not let go.” you trail off in thought.

“Hey,” she rubs your arm again. “What about you?”

“What about me?” You repeat confused.

“You said you were one. What happened?”

“I figured it out.” You shrug nonchalantly “There was no one around to help me so I helped myself. All of the spirits I ran into were also lost but they found their way. It’s complicated I know. So I started to take notes on their experiences and applying them to myself. Whenever I would meet a very religious person I’d rack their brains on how they felt about all of this. You’d be surprised by the number of priests I’ve met.” you both laugh at that, she has the most beautiful smile you’ve seen in a while. “Instead of moving on, I decided to stay and assist the new spirits with their transition.”

“You’re allowed to do that?”

“The invitation doesn’t expire...or at least that’s what I’m told.” You immediately regret revealing the last part to her.

“What you’re told?” She repeats. You panic a bit and try to walk away but the brunette quickly grabs you by the forearm and turns you around. “Hey, no that’s my thing remember? Now, who told you that?”

You weigh your options and telling her the truth seems to be one of the worst ones but something about Agent Prentiss makes you want to tell her all of your secrets. “A saint.”

“A saint?”

“Yes, a saint.”

“Like in the bible?” She asks completely baffled.

“Actually the Catholics got it wrong, they’re not at all like what we were taught growing up. Apparently, there was word that a wandering spirit found their way and stayed to help others transition. Said spirit being myself. He basically came to bestow his blessings and let me know the invitation doesn’t expire.”

“So God is real? Heaven is real?” Never took her for the religious type.

“Truth is, I don’t really know Emily. Its more complicated than heaven and hell. Black and white. God and science. Its not my place to tell you what to believe in.”

“Fair enough.” After a beat of silence she asks, “So what do we do now?”

“What do you want to do?” you ask softly.

She takes a deep breath before answering, “I want to see my team.”

“Are you sure? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs your concern off “I’m sure. Can you take me?”

You nod and then take her hand in yours. You take her to her room, lucky for you her team is all standing outside of the room while the morgue nurses take care of her. When ghosts see their bodies there tends to be a bad reaction. When she sees her team there seems to be a level of tension lifted off her shoulders. She really does love them, and they love her back. They’re a family, not a team. You give them some time alone while you contemplate your choices. Am I doing a good job or making this worse for her?

Your thoughts are interrupted by her walking up to you, she’s not crying but you can tell she wants to. “I uh,” she stumbles “Are they going to be okay? I want them to get through this.”

“They’ll be okay Prentiss.” you stroke her crossed arms.

“How do you know that?”

“Like I said agent, I’ve met enough spirits to know how death affects a family.” She’s not buying this. “Look I can call in a favor if you don’t believe me.” Why are you offering this? Favors are a one time thing and you might need it.

“Could you call in that favor for me? Please?”

You smile at her and then nod. “Of course Emily, but in order for me to do that I need you to do me one teeny favor.”

“Anything.”

You transport both of you into the floral courtyard. “You have to stay here while I call in that favor.”

“Why?”

“Emily, you have to stay here. I don’t need you running around causing trouble for yourself.”

She gives you a very suspicious look before reluctantly agreeing. You don’t trust her answer so you make sure to stay nearby while praying to Saint Francis of Assisi, he’s the one that owes you.

After convincing him that this is necessary and you’re doing this for the right reasons, he agrees. “There’s something different about her? Tell me what it is.”

“No.” You flat out tell him. “Remember what I said about asking nicely when you want something.”

“Please, excuse my actions dear, it appears that I am out of conversational practice.”

“Its okay France.” you laugh “Now can you please help me help her?”

“Of course, whatever you desire.” He plucks the image into your brain. “Next time I am near we must discuss your muse.

You laugh again at his antics, “Whatever you say France. Whatever you say.”

When you return to the courtyard to discover its deserted. “Shit!” You pick up your feet and make a mad dash through the hospital but it ends shortly with Emily standing in the middle of the pediatric hallway. “Hey!” you grab her shoulder but she doesn’t turn around. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

Her eyes are fixated elsewhere, almost trance like. “The girl, she was crying.” she points in front of her and you follow her line of sight. “Why is she crying? Why isn’t anyone helping her?”

She wasn’t meant to find the pediatric unit. You were supposed to keep her as far away from here as possible. “Emily...” the words fall dead on your lips. She walks out from under your touch and toward the crying child. “Hi.” she says while crouching down her eye level. “My name’s Emily. What’s your name?” The child’s cries dialed down to puppy like whining.

“Jonah.” She can’t be older than 6 years old. She’s in her pajamas with a small blank and little brown bear. “My friends call me Jo.”

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” she begins to wipe the child’s tears with the pad of her thumb.

“My- my- my mommy, she-” the poor girl could barely get anything out through the sniffling.

She shushes the baby and pulls her into her arms. “Its okay Jonah, you’re okay.”

After her breathing starts to steady she says, “My mommy and daddy are crying and they can’t see me.” She then starts to cry again and Emily just holds her tighter.

“Jonah,” she pulls her away so she can look into her eyes. “My friend here,” she looks over her shoulder to you. “Is going to help you. Okay?” The kid just nods in response. “You have to go with them, okay?

“I don’t want to leave my mommy and daddy.” she whines.

“I know, I know but...” she draws “You can take your blanky and bear with you.” she promises with a big smile. “Okay?”

“Can you go with me?” Emily looks back at you for approval but you just shrug.

Another thing about ghosts is that the children, especially the younger ones, are easier to convince. It makes your job significantly easier but that doesn’t make it any less depressing.

So you take them into the light with Emily holding the child’s hand. “All you have to do is walk through Jonah. Its better on that side.”

She looks up at Emily and then back at you. “Promise?” she holds out her pinky and you instantly take it.

“Promise.”

She looks towards Emily for confirmation. “Its okay.” She lets her hand go and before crossing, she looks at you and Emily one last time, then waves goodbye.

“You’re disturbingly good at that. Your job requires you to work with kids often?”

“In the worst circumstances.” she answers. “Now,” she turns to you “My team.”

“Your family, Agent Prentiss, and don’t worry they’re going to be fine.” The clips of her loved ones start to play in your head.

“How do I know that?”

“What so you don’t trust me anymore?” you joke but she doesn’t laugh “Sorry, right. Give me you hands.”

“Why?”

“Just give me your hands Agent Prentiss.” She slowly gives you her hands. “Take a deep breath for me, Softie.” She actually laughs/huffs a little at that. “Are you ready?” She nods and you begin to release the clips into her subconscious; it implants itself like a memory. When you finish you open your eyes she’s surprisingly not in tears, hell I know I would be if I wasn’t so numb to grief. The clips are a perfect combination of tragedy and joy but in the end, they’re okay.

“So,” She adjusts herself “Do I want to know what you had to do to pull that off?”

“I blew a god.” at her wide eyed reaction you burst into a fit of laughter. “I’m kidding Prentiss, I’m kidding.”

“Oh haha very funny.” She soon joins in on your laughter and oh my god it sounds amazing. “Hey,” She gets your attention and looks deeply into your eyes. “Thank you for that. Really.”

You pull her in for a big hug and while her head’s down you take both of you to the green yard. (Another courtyard in the middle hub.) There’s a ton of miniature yards with different themes in order to help patients get fresh air and a better view without putting themselves in harm’s way. The kids love the butterfly garden the most, directly in the middle of the pediatric wing. Your favorite is this one but you have no idea what its meant to be called so you just call it the Green Yard. She lets go of you and now you’re both left with a comfortable silence. “What do we do now?” She asks you for the 3rd time and I’m not even sure how to answer.

“Are you ready to move on?”

“Am I ready to go into the light you mean?” You know for a smart person she asks some dumb questions.

”Yeah.” you nod, “If you’re ready I can take you.”

“Actually,” she pauses while stepping towards you. “I’d like to stay.” Well that one threw you for a complete loop. At your facial expression she continues. “Not forever of course and only if the said ‘invitation’ you talk about doesn’t expire.”

“You- you want to stay?” you stutter.

She nods with all serious. “Why would I be in rush a rush to leave when I could help other spirits? You saw that little girl! She had no one.”

“Yes well this isn’t a decision to take likely.” You offer her a small smile but she doesn’t take it. Her face is stoic and is giving me major compartmentalization vibes.”Emily do you seriously want to continue helping victims even in the afterlife?”

“Yes. I do.” She takes one of your hands. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 2/ is here

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elaboratedbee · 5 years ago

Text

Bigby x Reader

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader (i changed this to be gender neutral!)

Summary: bigby deals with his rapidly growing feelings for the new Fable that moved into the apartment above his, a nymph. (alternatively, you give bigby flowers)

Rating: E (hella fluff)

Word Count: 4208 (idk how it got long it just did i’m so sorry)

Note: hey guys, this is my second imagine! :) I just love this wolfman rn and I literally cannot wait until s2! i’m a new blog so pls feel free to interact, or request something, bc corona has given me hella free time ;)

You Belong Among The Flowers

You

As you set down the last box in your new apartment, you let a sense of accomplishment wash over you. It hadn’t been easy to save enough money to afford an apartment in the Woodlands, but you worked hard managing your business, growing flowers and owning a florist as well as growing fruit and vegetables which you sold to the grocery stores in Fabletown. When Snow had informed you of the two new apartments that had become available, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the idea. The place you were living before was a little sketchy (read: it was a total shithole, and you were definitely close to getting stabbed on several occasions).

This way, you would be closer to the allotments you had managed to buy right at the edge of Fabletown, closer to Snow who you had thoroughly enjoyed getting to know during the first couple of months of her deputy mayorship, and it was a hell of a lot safer. The Woodlands had the extra insurance of being the home of the big, bad wolf. Fabletown harboured some pretty stupid criminals, but there weren’t many people stupid enough to target the apartments across the hall from the Sheriff.

The place needed some life in it, as soon as was possible, however. The stark and empty room made you uncomfortable, and as soon as you set your first fern down on one of the shelves, you immediately felt better. The best part about the place, which really convinced you to part with most of your savings, was the balcony. You couldn’t wait to have it bright with life, a practical jungle on your doorstep. A flower nymph with no flowers was not a happy being, so that was the first thing you got to work on, planting your seeds and setting out your pots.

It was already falling dark by the time you were done, but you were more than content to spend the night on a mattress in the middle of the floor now that you were surrounded by, at least the beginnings of, a flower garden.

Bigby

By the time Bigby reached his cramped, little apartment in the evening, it was usually long after darkness had fallen over Fabletown. As he turned the key in the stiff lock, a sigh escaped his lips. He’d been tracking a car thief all day and had not been successful. The detective hated going home with a case hanging over him; there was no way he would be able to get any real sleep while all of his thoughts and theories were racing through his head.

Bigby opened the door, dim yellow light from the hallway seeping into the room. The lingering smell of smoke from his Huff and Puffs and the scent of whiskey hit his nose even harder once the door was opened, and even he grimaced slightly at the smell. He flicked on the light and took his phone off of the ringer, a habit that he’d developed long ago. It was nice to be enveloped in peace and quiet in the evening. It was the way he liked it, he told himself. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, he knew that he really made himself unavailable because that way he could pretend that being alone was a conscious decision that he made.

Making his way to the small window in his living space, he opened it in an attempt to allow some fresh (well, as fresh as it got for New York city) air into his apartment. Bigby froze as an unexpected scent was the first to hit him, and he inhaled deeply. It was a floral scent, different kinds of mingling together. Some overpowered the less aromatic ones, but Bigby’s sense of smell was heightened enough that he could pick out each individual smell and he traced it to somewhere above him. The pitch-black darkness outside made it a futile goal to find out where it was coming from, so he simply stood and basked in it, sure that it would be gone in the morning. He assumed that someone in a nearby apartment had received a bouquet of flowers and had left it on their windowsill. It was concerning that they had left their window open, he noted, even the Woodland building wasn’t particularly safe.

A bittersweet pang of homesickness ran through his body like a shiver, pooling in his chest and making his heartache. Mostly, he avoided thinking about the Homelands, as it always resulted in the sad longing that he was feeling now. But with the scent in his nose so reminiscent of the beautiful woodlands and sprawling idyllic spaces that they had once called home, there was no way he could avoid it now. Once the initial sadness passed, he allowed himself to relax into the sense of security and joy that were stronger than any negative feelings when he thought back to their home and all of its splendour. Although the person, or monster, that Bigby had been back then was a source of regret, he could not deny that he’d do almost anything to trade the dirty, concrete cityscape outside of his window for hills and mountains, forests and rivers.

For the first time that he could remember, he didn’t reach for a cigarette or a tumbler of whiskey when he sat down in his chair to rest at last. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and let the smell of flowers lull him to a restful sleep.

When he awoke, he was pleased to find that the pleasant smell persisted, which made him considerably more optimistic about the day ahead. There was one lead that he thought to chase up, but he figured that he ought to fill in Snow on the recent happenings before making his way out. She was much busier now, since the Crooked Man. Things weren’t perfect, he didn’t think they would ever be, but they were certainly better. Snow was making changes, just like she had promised to herself and everyone that she would. When Fables came through the door of the business office, their wishes weren’t always granted, but they were always heard.

Bigby thought that was a step in the right direction.

After showering and getting dressed, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. The line for the business office was already fairly long, despite the early hour of the morning and he resolved not to take up too much of Snow’s time. Ignoring the eye rolls and general disgruntlement from the Fables in the hallway as he bypassed the line, he made his way into the office. Snow was busying herself with a stack of papers, looking rather stressed at it all. He didn’t like to see her that way, but he did prefer it to the look of frustration and helplessness that he caught glimpses of when she was working as an assistant.

Opening his mouth to announce his presence, he promptly closed it as something took him by surprise. On Snow’s desk was a vase of flowers, a big and beautiful bouquet. Proud white roses were peppered with baby's breath, all sitting on a luscious green bed of eucalyptus and hydrangeas. It was perfect, it was if it were an incarnation of Snow herself. He looked at it and realised, at that moment, exactly why people gave each other flowers, he had never had a reason to consider it.

He must have been staring for a lot longer than it felt like because what finally broke him from his reverie was the sound of Snow’s laughter, soft and musical. Frowning at the sight of her mocking him, he flipped her off, which only made her laugh more. “Who’s the secret admirer?” He inquired, “I’ll need their address too, you know, just in case.”

Snow glared at him.

“I’m kidding.” Bigby placated her, raising his hands in mock surrender. The smell of this bouquet was different from the one coming through his window, telling him that it was a different set of flowers, but surely the giver of these was also the source of the others. It seemed like far too much of a coincidence, otherwise.

With a pointed look, Snow said, “you already know it. I told you last week that someone new was moving into the Woodlands! Since Crane is gone, we renovated his hideous penthouse into two new apartments.” Even the mention of his name raised Bigby’s hackles and got his blood boiling, so he could only imagine the disgust that his friend must feel whenever he’s brought up.

“Right,” Bigby agreed, hazily recalling the conversation that he had definitely not paid his full attention to. It was no wonder that Bigby had missed them moving in, considering that he usually leaves the Woodlands in the early hours of the morning and returns in . . . the early hours of the morning. Yikes.

“I told them about the apartment, so they sent me these as a way to say thanks,” Snow explained, gesturing toward the flowers.

He wondered what their connection was to the flowers, whether they just liked them or whether they were a part of their history, their story. Once again, Bigby opened his mouth only to be interrupted by an inpatient sounding knock on the door. Snow jerked her head towards it before throwing an apologetic smile towards the Sheriff. “I’m sorry, Bigby. I have a lot to do. I should probably get going with these meetings.”

That was his cue to leave, so the wolf nodded at her and made an exit from the office. He was busy, too, and things were never really peaceful in Fabletown, so it was probably for the best that he got going, but he couldn’t help but wish he had asked for a name.

He was soon to find out, however, only a couple of days later. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Bigby used his free hand to open his mailbox. It was more of a tradition at this point, considering he couldn’t actually recall the last time he received a letter in the post that wasn’t a bill.

An out of tune ding announced the arrival of the elevator but Bigby didn’t turn around, not wanting to invite conversation. He had just placed the car thief into custody, and Snow was going to arrange a trial for tomorrow. The system was much fairer now, more democratic and he liked it that way. Being the final authority on the Crooked Man last time was some heavy stuff, and there was no way to make everyone happy. Now, there was a jury, a real trial, fair sentencing. Fabletown was slowly but surely dragging itself off the ground and trying to become a more just place, a more safe place. If Bigby could do anything to make sure of it, he would.

Finally looking up, he turned his head to see which of his neighbours had joined him at the letterbox. It was you.

He almost choked on the cigarette in his mouth as he regarded you, and when he took it out and crushed it underfoot, he could smell you, too. Without the overpowering scent of smoke under his nose, the floral scent that he had been succumbing to every night since the first overtook him and he felt a strange constriction in his chest.

You were beautiful, ethereal, but in a much different way than he could usually describe. It was the quirk of your mouth as you offered him a grin and the glint behind your eyes that suggested you were laughing at your own joke internally. “Sheriff.” You addressed him by his formal title and Bigby was torn. He wanted to hear you say it again, over and over. Sherriff. You said it with respect, with admiration even. It wasn’t an insult, a sarcasm, unlike when most of the Fables addressed him with his title. But he also wanted to hear you say his name. It was this desire that returned his ability to speak.

“Call me, Bigby.”

You closed your mailbox, holding your letters in your hand and smiled wider, introducing yourseld in return.

“I’ll see you around, Bigby.”

You were walking away, and Bigby, for the first time, was struck with the desire to stop you, make you stay, talk just a little longer.

“I, uh, I like the flowers.” He managed to growl out. You looked a little taken aback at his tone and he cursed himself, but you recovered and offered him yet another smile. He noted how you gave them out like it cost nothing.

“Oh, Snow’s?” You prompted him for more information.

“Yeah, and I can,” he made a vague gesture towards his face, “smell the ones you have in the windowsill. From my apartment.”

Your eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, and he felt a weird sense of pride. What the fuck is wrong with you? He thought to himself.

“Really? I’ll keep them there,” you were so sincere, you made such a simple comment sound like a promise. He nodded, unable to think of yet another reason to delay you and altogether confused about why he was freaking out the way that he was. You stepped into the elevator and was gone.

You

You stepped off of the elevator and into your apartment, placing the letters down onto a table. The place wasn’t huge but you had made the best of it. The walls had a fresh coat of white paint, making the place seem more open and bright, the furniture was simple, mainly second hand, but it fits. Best of all, your beloved balcony. You guessed that’s what the Sheriff had confused for the flowers on your window-sill.

Great, leafy ferns and potted plants adorned your apartment all over, but the balcony was the centre of it all, and it was only just beginning. You had planted all manner of things, and you were only getting started. Due to your being a flower nymph, they grew faster, strong and healthy, and the seeds that you planted mere days ago were beginning to form buds, and even open up. The scent was sweeter. The plants were happier, but you couldn’t really explain that sort of thing to another Fable. They would laugh at the notion, but you could feel it.

Moving to the city had been hard for you, really hard. The nymphs were the caretakers of the homelands, the trees, rivers, lakes and plants. The animals, too, even if they didn’t always know it. To have it ripped away was more painful than anything else you could have experienced. It wasn’t just a home that had been taken from you, it was a part of yourself that had been left behind.

Your mind drifted to your recent interaction as you watered them with care, and you felt your heart rate pick up when you thought of the Sheriff. He was tired, you could tell, but he seemed kind enough. It was a common mistake that nymphs only took care of the plants in the forest, when really they guarded the animals, too. It gave you more of a read on the beastially inclined residents, and you could almost feel the weight on Bigby’s shoulders as you stood next to him.

I like the flowers.

The compliment played over in your mind. It had taken you by surprise, considering what all of the other residents had told you about the big, bad wolf. You trusted Snow’s word above the others when she told you about him, that he was a man that wanted to change, had changed. He wanted to make this place better, she had told you, just like her. But even Snow had grumbled to you a few times about how stubborn, how hot-headed and how harsh he could be.

Over the next couple of days, he was stuck on your mind. You paid far more attention to the coming and going of the wolf than before, realising for the first time that he was rarely home at all. Could this really be the same man that everyone complained about downtown? The one that Fables still questioned as to whether or not he really cared at all? Every time you passed him, you sensed his exhaustion, his frustration. His loneliness. But there was something else when you passed him, too. This little spark of joy and excitement. You knew it must be the scent of the flowers, what else could it be? He had already remarked on it.

Deciding enough was enough, you went about making him the perfect bouquet.

Throughout the week, you worked on your gift. You arranged it untraditionally in a long, thin wooden box which was overflowing with greenery. Succulents and hydrangeas were scattered amongst them like stars in the night sky. Wild berries shone like jewels, clinging to their stems. Most importantly, bright white lily of the valleys hung like bells. You picked them because of their sweet scent, hoping that the wolf would enjoy them. They were common in the homelands, and you wondered if it would remind him of the place.

Finally satisfied, you picked up the arrangement late one evening and stepped into the elevator. Am I being crazy? You thought to yourself as your grip on the box tightened. You just thought that all of the things the Sheriff did for Fabletown deserved a little recognition. It was the least you could do say thanks, right?

Arriving at the correct floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on Bigby’s door. It was a little late for a house call, you realised, but he wasn’t home at any other hour. The wolf opened the door, scowling until he saw you. Confusion replaced the general displeasure on his face until he noted what was in your hands. “Oh,” his voice was full of realisation, “I can hand those to Snow if you want, but if you just wait until tomorrow, she’ll be back in her office,” he explained to you.

What? You realised quickly that he thought the flowers were meant for Snow and you shook your head, a little saddened that he didn’t even think that they could be for him.

“Actually, Sheriff, they’re for you. For your windowsill.”

The man’s face went completely blank while he processed the information, which was kind of scary. The guy really didn’t give anything away.

“For me?” He repeated, sounding almost suspicious as he raised his hand to his mouth and removed his cigarette, seemingly wanting to inhale the flowers instead.

“Yep.” You assured him firmly, “you said you liked the scent of them so I thought you might like some of your own.” With your words, the energy of the wolf changed. The exhaustion and anger faded substantially and he finally seemed warm, almost as happy as your flowers. You seized the opportunity. “You mind if I come in? I can tell you about watering them and stuff.”

Bigby failed to hide his face a little more this time, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to offer you, and the place is a real shithole.” He warned you.

“I didn’t come for anything, I just want to bring you these,” you answer and he relents, stepping backwards and opening the door to allow you in. You expected the smell of cigarettes to be worse, but he had an open window that seemed to be helping with that. You set the flowers down on the windowsill and turned to face him. He was closer than you had expected, and a blush broke out onto your cheeks at the proximity of the wolf to you. You are overwhelmed with the desire to step even closer, but you stay put. The man was already freaked out, he didn’t need your crush to make it any worse.

“Why?” He seemed reluctant to ask like he had been trying to answer the question himself but just couldn’t figure out the answer.

“To say thank you. You do a lot for us, especially those of us who live in The Woodlands. I think of how much safer this place is just because you live here. And you said you liked them.”

“I don’t exactly do anything other than be the Big, Bad Wolf.” He points out, and you catch a cutting undertone to his argument.

“Bullshit.” He seems surprised at your choice of words and raises an amused eyebrow at you. “You get up at the crack of dawn and you get home little before then, sometimes not at all. You single-handedly protect all of the Fables in this town. You deserve a hundred flowers.” You pointed this all out casually, shrugging your shoulders but Bigby looks deeply uncomfortable. You wondered why he was so tense as you pointed out all he does.

You wondered if anybody does.

Bigby

He thought that if you come any closer to him then he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you. He also thought that he can’t move away.

The scent of the flowers, your scent, was making him feel almost dizzy. It was hard to believe that you were in his apartment, that you brought him flowers. You brought him flowers, you brought him flowers, you brought him flowers. Ever since they spoke, such a small, meaningless conversation, he hadn’t been able to get you off his mind. Sure that you had forgotten it by the next day, he felt like such an idiot replaying it in his mind before he could fall asleep at night.

But you hadn’t. You had remembered what he said and brought him flowers.

“Thank you.” He realised he hadn’t even said that yet, and he turned away to admire them, and so that he didn’t have to look at you anymore. Clenching his jaw, he implored himself not to ruin this already, to just control himself, like he had with Snow once upon a time. But this time, it seemed impossible.

Then, you touched his arm.

He was so acutely aware of your hand on his skin the whole time that it was there that he could barely hear what you were saying. All of the nice things you were saying about him, falling on deaf ears. God, he felt pathetic. Was that really all it took to turn him stupid? One compliment, one touch.

He hadn’t been touched in a while, though. Not like this. By someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him, or calm him down. Not by someone who just wanted to be close to him.

Fuck it, he thought, and stepped closer, leaning into your touch. There were inches between you now.

You

All of a sudden, he was in front of you. His skin was warm to your touch, and his eyes were simmering with something. You think back over the last couple of days. The way you had watched him, the way you’d thought of him. How you had spent hours finding the perfect flowers, arranging them just so. That wasn’t gratitude or friendly admiration and you knew it. You wondered if he knew it.

You looked up and met his eyes, they were almost gold now that you were close, more than brown. That’s the last thing you remember thinking before you weren’t thinking anything, but feeling the wolf’s mouth on yours. His hand comes up to cup your face, holding you close and the other hand moves to your waist. It’s needy, and almost desperate as the both of you simply give in to whatever desire you were pushing back.

His face was rough, and you delighted in the coarseness of his hands, a shiver running through your body. He invaded all of your senses, occupies all of you for the minutes, or hours that the two of you are interlocked. The sharpness of his teeth on your bottom lip, gone as quickly as it came prompted you to gasp ever so slightly, allowing his tongue passage into your mouth. When you finally pulled away, air a terrible, evil necessity to you now, you dared to open your eyes and reassure yourself that you weren’t dreaming. Bigby was still pressed up against you, his eyes a brighter gold than they had been before and his breathing urgent.

“I like the flowers,” he chokes out, “I really, really like the - “

You cut him off by grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down towards you once again, rolling your eyes slightly at how awkward he was. You’d figure it out. Kissing him breathless, you finally released him and met his eyes. “I like you too, Bigby.”

The wolf shared a genuine smile with you, one that reached all the way up to his eyes and flashed his sharp incisors. You wanted to see it again, a million times.

You were going to need more flowers.

#the wolf among us #bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader #twau #imagine #bigby wolf imagine #my underappreciated baby #someone give him a hug #the wolf among us fanfic #bigby wolf fanfiction #the wolf among us imagine

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itsdangeroustorunaboutinthedark · 3 years ago

Text

19, 20

18 hours~

18 hours ive just slept. dont know how much i slept yesterday. the day before that slept 3 different times, 2-3 hours each. it felt like 4 days went by in that one day, not just because of the sleep patterns. that morning i woke up, or i was woken up, with an already shit feeling that was just about to get worse. i realized, if todays events were to go as planned, id probably kill myself. there was a plethora of reasons for that, going so far back it's almost laughable. a large component to ensuring i would carry it out, was that id be alone for the next few days. it felt, feels? extremely pathetic, even though the being alone in itself had no part in the reasons building up to such major suicidalness. suicidality? whatever. the conditions surrounding that being alone were some reasons; the being alone itself was just the perfect setting to allow it. but i couldnt say that. i couldnt say, in this situation specifically, that if i was left alone id probably kill myself. it'd be manipulative, would it.. though maybe what i ended up doing was no different. "i think im going to admit myself to the psych ward" was essentially what i ended up saying. i was met with so much support, it felt worse in a way. not as in worse than if id been met with anything else, just, worse than i had felt before. i felt guilty. i felt selfish. it felt like i was saying whatever just to get my way. even though all "my way" was, was to live, and to hopefully not leave the animals unattended in the process. foremost the animals, really. after having been shown awkward support, albeit shocking in a good? way, i regretted saying anything. or maybe i didnt, maybe those feelings didnt come til later. either way, the guilt was, still is, all-consuming. making calls to inpatient services piled on the guilt even more. i shouldnt be wasting these peoples time, there are surely those worse, ill be fine now, probably. the same feelings of guilt towards the person i admitted this to, and to the admissions people at the looney bin, grew even more while at the crisis center the next day. there were cases, serious cases, serious-er cases, being discussed by the staff. severe drug addict, has uncontrollable seizures, huge gaps in memory, is in and out of the hospital, only 21. someone came in with a fucked up leg, brought in by someone else. another came in with 5 bags packed, as if this was a usual visit, prepared to stay for a long while. another person, also accompanied, came in, just as quiet as i was. i knew not to compare. i knew everyone goes through things differently, presents differently, and presentation alone hasnt a sole explanation on whats actually going on with a person. and it wasnt these exterior comparisons that lead to the guilt, but that i was no longer feeling the unbearable despair and violent willingness to go through with what i had planned the day before. i didnt feel good, i didnt feel okay, i felt numb. but numb is better than That, numb is no reason to take up the time of people who are busy trying to help people with worse problems. they were kind, and seemingly all too knowing, and they sent me home with a couple phone appointments. i didnt know how to feel about it or what to think, the only prominent feeling still being guilt, somehow residing along nothingness. perhaps emptiness would be a better word. i was so confused about what to feel and think and so overwhelmed with guilt, that for a short while after any time i tried to speak about it, my mind would go blank and i sounded like a malfunctioning printer trying to get words out. now its the day after, technically two days after, and i still feel nothing. or i feel empty. or i feel numb. the words i was told when i first spoke of my plans to admit myself, and in turn some of the feelings/reasons that led to that, still ring in my ears; "it often looks you're doing better, but i think you're just distracting yourself." im still not sure whether thats entirely true, but it is at least partly, and its distinctly how i decided to live at the ripe-old age of 12 or 13, when i was in a different, arguably worse and far more hopeless set of circumstances. i remember it now n again, and every once in awhile i come across the note i wrote to myself at the time as a reminder, it saying only "distract yourself". its been 7 or so years since. so much has changed, i have far more ability to make further changes by myself than ever before. a week before all of this happened, i was determined and taking the first steps to make what would probably be the largest change of my life so far. and all it took to take me from that to the pits of despair was several ever-smouldering struggles and a couple of current happening-problems. and now i dont know what to do. im mostly numb, maybe a slight bit anxious, and i dont know what to do next. im going to have to face everyone about what's going on, and I don't know what to tell them. and I'll once again feel guilt, because I don't know how i feel or what to say, because i didn't go through with the attempt, because ive wasted people's time over this. because i knew as soon as i wasnt going to be alone, the main excuse to kill myself was gone, and i couldn't admit that to the person who was leaving, the same person who contributed to so many of the events that brought upon the feelings that lead up to this point. that lead up to it this time, that lead up to it several times before. i told work i had been admitted earlier than i actually had been because i didnt want to let them know very last minute, and they were so kind about it; and then i was discharged within an hour. i dont want to go anymore. i dont know if i should. i can think of 100 reasons why i shouldnt, maybe only a few convincing reasons why i should. i look at my ongoing suicidal ideation, and since now that it's met with indifference to the actions and potential outcomes rather than turbulence, i shrug it off. i think, i think thats what im supposed to do.

and all of this sounds like self pity, self loathing, utter dejection, such things that i hold such disdain for and cant handle in other people anymore. its irritating, its pathetic, all i need to do to improve is take a step, a step in literally any direction. and eventually, i will, maybe. if i make it to that point. but right now, i dont know. im not sure any of this is true. im not sure of anything, period. and thats a lie. and its not. ah

#wuahjkhsdf yea #tw suicide #hi i just had to edit this bc i spelt suicide as suidice #hjelp girl my shjip #there is no real point or moral to this btw #idk #gnya

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darth-el · 5 years ago

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Battle Of Starcourt

Pairing: Steve x Henderson!Reader Warning: Bit of violence but nothing too bad A/N: This was based on a request and I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to post, but I hope you enjoy it and feedback is always welcome.

Masterlist

Starcourt was in complete and utter chaos when you arrived with Joyce and Hopper. The chaos had seeped into the atmosphere, everyone was talking over one another trying to make sense of what happened and how it was all connected. You immediately ran over to Dustin and tackled him for a hug taking him by surprise. “Oh my god Dusty!” You screamed as you never thought you were going to see him again after being chased by the Terminator himself.

“Y/N!” He pushed you off as if he was embarrassed but his smile said otherwise. “I never thought I was going to see you again!” He clung onto you tight and you hugged him equally tight, until it sunk in fully what he said.

“What?” You looked at him shaking your head slightly and blinked several times hoping you misheard because he didn't know what you were doing so he must have been talking about himself. Your eyes start scanning the room while he explained about the Russians and the elevator, the moment he mentioned Steve your eyes zoned in on him and he was beaten and bruised but you were angry that he endangered your baby brother's life.

“STEVE!” You shouted storming over to him, fortunately you and Steve were close so you knew you could shout at him if need be and say what needed to be said and you'd be fine within in minutes. He backed off slightly when he saw you marching over to him. “How could you let my baby brother almost get killed?” Usually you'd hit him with whatever was in your hand, but you didn't want to hurt him more.

“He said we'd be American heroes.” The moment he said that he knew how ridiculous that sounded.

“We get chased by the goddamn Terminator, and you almost get killed because you wanted to be heroes.” You were about to hit the roof. You could hear the in the background Erica insulting Murray which if you weren't so angry you would be laughing.

“I'm sorry.” He held up his hands in defeat, in that moment you instantly turned soft.

“What happened to you?” You asked looking at Steve's face very worried, and concerned that he had become Hawkins' own living punchbag.

“I got tortured and drugged by a bunch of Russians.” He said like it was nothing.

“Your brother saved us.” Robin interjected proudly, hoping it would be infectious. You did feel proud but he shouldn't be living through the things that he has.

“How badly does it hurt?” You cupped Steve's chin to get a better look at the damage.

“Really bad.” He winced as you gently moved his head.

“Give me a second,” You walked over to your bag and dug through it looking for painkillers as you never left the house without them. “You did good Dusty, I'm proud of you,” You smiled at him as he watched you go through your bag. “If you do anything like that again though it won't be Russians you have to worry about.” You lightly nudged Dustin who nodded as he knew you were like a protective mama bear when it came to him and his friends. “Here you go.” You put the painkillers in Steve's hand smiling.

The plan had come together and you were going with Hopper, Murray, and Joyce down below, Murray was not happy about the codename at all. “Keep my baby brother safe or I will send you to the Upside Down.” You threatened Steve with a soft smile.

“You stay safe.” Steve hugged you tightly ignoring your threat, you couldn't help notice there being a smell lingering on him but you weren't entirely sure what it was; you just hoped it wasn't a new cologne he was trying. When he let you go you gave Dustin another hug.

“I think you need keep Steve safe more than he needs to keep you safe.” You whispered making him laugh and agree with you. You took off his hat and ruffled his hair which annoyed him as he stuck the hat back on. Give you one more hug as you parted ways.

You could tell Hopper was getting inpatient by Murray conversing with the Russian soldiers who were interrogating him. The moment Murray slipped up Hopper open fired, Joyce screamed loudly at this but it got the job done faster. You became used to Hopper's bull in a china shop mentality, sometimes it worked and others it didn't. This was one of those times it didn't fully work, meaning you all had to improvise. You had to admit to yourself that you looked good in the Russian uniform and you were planning on keeping it, once everyone had their uniforms on you and Joyce hopped into the back of a vehicle and made your way to the first location until you felt it stop, you both wondered what happened. Laughter was heard and it made you really confused.

“Why are you talking so much?” Joyce asked Murray as she climbed out with you following behind her.

“He was nice,” Murray said nonchalantly.

“He was nice?” Joyce reiterated trying to wrap her head around this interaction.

“He was a nice guard.” Murray was getting tired of having to explain himself.

“Yeah, I mean, we should probably invite him over after all this done,” Hopper rolled his eyes trying to antagonise Murray.

“I could bake him a casserole.”

“Get a six-pack, share some laughs. You know, have a drink.” Murray was seething at Joyce and Hopper's attitude but you were thankful they weren't arguing for once. Murray opened the vent and communicated with Scoops Troop.

“I hate children.” He sighed as he climbed and instructed you all to smile and nod if anyone said anything. You were sitting in the corner trying to stay out the way of Joyce and Hopper because there was still tension in the atmosphere and you didn't want to get stuck in the middle of it again, like you had done for the entire day. Hopper was pacing and worried for El which was understandable. The tension left the air once he admitted that they were a pretty good team. You were like a fly on the wall for the whole conversation about making it out alive. You squealed once they finally arranged a date making them both jump and turning their attention to you.

“Sorry,” You beamed happily while clapping gently. “It's finally happened,” They looked confused at your statement. “Murray isn't the only one who thought it was a lovers quarrel.” Your smile was huge, over the past couple of years Joyce had become like a second mom and Hopper was like a father figure so you were insanely happy to see that this was their time.

“We have a problem!” You heard Dustin yell down the walkie talkie.

“What kind of problem?” Hopper went into survival mode almost instantly as did you as Dustin explained.

“Bald Eagle has landed.” Murray interjected.

“How much longer?” Jim asked sounding desperate.

“I don't know, I've never done this before!” Murray shouted down the walkie talkie and then made a comment about love birds meaning he was close. The alarms were going and you ran through the door to do what you needed to do as it was time. You ran into a Russian and the only word you understood was the name 'Mikhail' and you just smiled and nodded until he let you three go. You fell through a door and found a safe. The code you were given was wrong and you hit your head against the wall while Hopper and Murray argued. Dustin's voice was on the other end and what turned out to be Suzi's voice who was pleading with him to do something which was the worst possible time. You were stifling your laughter when you heard them both singing, but it was really sweet. Hopper was looking like he was contemplating his life choices and Joyce was ready to give up until they heard the code and immediately punched it in.

You were standing in the room with the weapon which was severely malfunctioning thanks to Murray. It was a relief to know everything was about to end as Hopper got the keys out. Hopper was keeping watch and you were getting ready to turn the keys on three. Hopper was suddenly thrown across the room and you looked round to see the Terminator fighting Joyce who ran for the gun. You tried to fighting him, but you ultimately lost because of the advantage he had over you which meant you ended up in a pretty bad way. You weren't ready to give up though, you tried tripping him over which worked until he grabbed your leg and forcing something to break making you scream as you heard a loud snap as he got up you felt the sole of his boot hit your face knocking you out.

You woke up and everything was silent, Hopper was nowhere to be seen, Joyce and Murray were trying to carry you back to the surface. You winced at the pain when realised there was more weight on your leg than there should have been. The gate was closed and you felt like it was over. Government soldiers helped you onto the surface. You hobbled about looking at the utter chaos that had ensued above until you were taken over to an ambulance. While getting checked over Steve ran over to you hugging you ignoring the paramedic who was about to give you something for the pain. The pain shot through you like lightning.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve laughed relieved to see you were still alive.

“How bad do I look?” You asked still wincing in pain.

“Worse than me.” He teased moving a bloody strand of hair out of your face making you laugh. Dustin climbed into the ambulance pushing Steve out of the way. The paramedic rolled his eyes.

“Only one person can be in here with her.” He sighed giving them a death glare. Steve gave you kiss on the top of the head and climbed out letting Dustin stay with you. The paramedic administered the painkiller and Dustin's babbling became more and more funny to you, you were really enjoying this drug.

Once you had your leg in the cast due to a clean break in your foot thanks to the Terminator, Steve came in with some flowers he had got in a gas station on the way to you, Dustin was asleep in the chair curled up. Steve placed the flowers on your lap, you grabbed his hand and started stroking it.

“I hate the Terminator,” You joked shaking your head as you picked up the flowers and started smelling them. You couldn't really smell them as you were pretty sure you had lost your sense of smell. The painkiller was wearing off but you were still giggly and you hadn't regained your social filter.

“I'm glad you're safe,” Steve smiled taking the flowers from you making you fight back, so he could put them in the vase by your bed.

“I'm glad I'm safe.” You giggled sitting up a bit more in the bed. “I'm also glad Dustin kept you safe.” You smiled at him poking at his nose and cheek with your index finger making him laugh. Your pupils were the size of dinner plates still.

“He's a fighter, and he gets that from his sister,” Steve laugh was soft and gentle.

“Yes he does,” You grinned at Steve making him laugh even more, both of you forgetting that Dustin was asleep in the chair.

“Now that all this over,” Steve sighed contently making himself comfortable on the bed and wrapped an arm around you making you look up at him wide eyed, he wasn't sure if it was from the drugs or if you could read his mind. You hummed in response. “Do you maybe want to go on a proper date?” He asked slightly tensing up from the thought of rejection.

“A date date?” You asked to clarify as your head was becoming foggy.

“A date date.” He smiled pulling you tighter.

“I would love nothing more.” Your mind was getting foggier by the second but you knew you wanted to kiss him, so you decided to try pull him in for one.

“Nope, that is not happening.” Dustin blurted out pretending to wake up but was obviously listening to entire conversation.

“Dude seriously.” Steve laughed.

“Date her, yes. Anything else is a strong no.” Dustin stated as he got up and left the room. Steve turned his attention to you but you had fallen fast asleep in his arms.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things One Shot #Stranger Things Imagine #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Reader #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x You #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington One Shot #Stranger Things 3 #ST3

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songsofacagedbird · 4 years ago

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Is that BALIAN “BALO” DRISKELL? Wow, they do look a lot like EMILIIE DE RAVIN I hear SHE is an EIGHTEEN year old high school SENIOR. Word is they are a REGULAR student at Luxor Academy. You should watch out because they can be NAIVE and SENSITIVE, but on the bright side they can also be BUBBLY and OPTIMISTIC. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself.

the basics //

Full Name: Balian “Balo” Grace Driskell

Preferred Name: Balo Driskell

Age: 18

Birthday: February 23rd

Zodiac: Pisces

Gender & Pronouns: Woman (She/Hers)

Sexuality: Balo doesn’t label her sexuality, she’s part of the LGBT+ community (and has canonly dated both girls and boys) but she doesn’t feel comfortable labeling it personally.

Occupation: N/A, she occasionally does commissions though (both art and in like making clothes)

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Cade Carroll (npc) since early May

Place of Birth: Rochester, New York

Hometown: Saratoga Springs, New York

Country of Citizenship: United States

Languages Spoken: English (first) and French

deeper dive //

Hobbies and Talents:

○ Sketching (in particular people and animals, an inspiration board for her sketch book can be found here.)

○ Painting

○ Gymnastics (her leg is her left leg! By “her leg” I mean the leg she leads off with / does her split with for her floor routine / has better balance)

○ Fashion Design and Sewing

○ Cheerleading

○ Gymnastics

○ Yoga

○ Roller Skating

○ Scrapbooking

○ Dancing (a hobby, not a talent)

○ She can touch her nose with her tongue

Favorites:

○ Color: The entire rainbow, Balo has issues with picking one favorite color so she doesn’t choose.

○ Food: Balo’s not the biggest on food but she has a weakness for popcorn. Extra butter, light on the salt.

○ Animal: Cats

○ Drink: Hot Chocolate

○ Flower: Sunflowers

○ Book: a fairy tale collection she got from Zander when she was a child

○ Holiday: Christmas, to the point she’ll start decorating as early as she can. (June? Why not!)

○ Movie: The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

○ Scent: Strawberries, real a bit more than the artificial but she adores both.

○ Place: Her “little art studio” (technically just a corner of her room with her art supplies).

○ Quote:

“Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well.” - Unknown

Bêtes Noires:

○ Color: Dark brown, although she won’t admit to it

○ Food: Chicken à la King

○ Animal: Spiders, Balo does not like spiders and would like to stay far away from them

○ Drink: Matcha

○ Flower: Nepenthes peltata

○ Book: The Divergent Books

○ Holiday: 4th of July

○ Movie: Rugrats in Paris, she thinks it’s practically a horror movie

○ Scent: Garlic

○ Place: The Driskell family home in Saratoga Springs

health //

Conditions:

○ Anorexia Nervosa

○ HIV

Allergies: N/A

Sleeping Habits: Balo gets to bed usually at a good time and sleeps 8 hours at a shot.

Exercise Habits: She exercises multiple times of day, between gymnastics and cheerleading, it’s important she’s in prime shape. Dance and Yoga are her go-tos outside of practice.

Addictions: N/A

Drug Use: Very rarely. After a bad LSD trip (when she wasn’t aware she was being drugged until after the fact), she’s very wary of drugs on average.

Alcohol Use: Occasionally. Balo doesn’t have a high alcohol tolerance, she gets tipsy after one drink and if she keeps drinking, after a couple the odds of her stripping are extremely high. (It’s not a sexual thing, she overheats and doesn’t really think about the consequences).

personality //

MBTI: ESFP

Enneagram: 2w3 (The Helper with The Achiever Wing)

Alignment: Neutral Good

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Percy Jackson Parent: Iris

Pokémon Type: Dragon

Pokémon Subtype: Ghost

Winx: Nature

appearance //

Height: 5′11” – not at fc height (I enjoy her being a few cm taller than Zander too much to put her at fc now #oops)

Tattoos: One

Scars: None

Piercings: Ears

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Blue

Fashion:

○ link to balo’s closet

○ link to balo’s shoes

life at luxor //

Classes:

○ Communications

○ French

○ General P.E.

○ Visual Arts

○ Fashion Design

○ Human Biology

○ Beginner Ballet

Clubs and Activities:

○ Art Club

○ Cheerleading (Flyer)

○ Gymnastics

fun facts //

○ Balo has been attending Luxor since her Freshman year.

○ Balo’s kind of a literal ray of sunshine who believes (almost) everyone is truly good at heart.

○ Very easy to manipulate, please manipulate her. I’ll literally give you my firstborn.

○ Usually you’ll see her running around with a smile trying to brighten everyone’s day. She tries to put everyone’s happiness before herself, however, she’s slowly getting better about forming boundaries.

○ While it’d be easy to assume Balo’s dumb, that’s not quite the case. She only remembers the information she wants to. The issue is... most of the information she wants to learn is relatively useless. Want to know how to sew sutures? She’s your girl. Want to know the definition of cannibalism? Well, ask Jack how that goes.

○ She has two teddy bears and an American Girl doll living on her dresser. Duffy, Shelley-Mae, and Robin Banks. They’re decorative, but they make her happy.

○ One of her best friends is Logan Keller, the boy who went missing during the summer camping trip. The two are still in touch, and extremely close, so occasionally he gets mentioned here and there, but it’s still a sore spot for her (I am still in touch with the person who played him, so I run stuff by his mun when / if he comes up).

○ Jack’s adoptive parents recently adopted her, although she hasn’t said a lot about it. Your muse probably won’t know unless one of the two directly told them (or they heard it from Zander). It’s not a secret, she just didn’t make an announcement or anything.

○ In October 2019, Zander had an intervention for her to force her to get help for her eating disorder. She was in inpatient until April 2020, when she returned to Luxor.

○ Cheer and Gymnastics team member from Freshmen year until her intervention, and she returned to both teams this fall with the new school year.

○ Balo’s left handed (the only one of my muses that is a lefty)!

○ I’m aware Balo’s family page can be complicated, please feel free to dm me with questions. Also, please remember Balo doesn’t know she’s Daniel’s daughter, let alone the fact there’s even a chance Lance isn’t her father, which means your muse has absolutely no way of knowing this.

○ Befriended a stray racoon on the Lake George campus she named Reese Withercoon.

○ Literally only just said her first swear word this June, we’re very proud of her for finally getting that done. (#ThanksAxelAndLeo)

○ Balo finds the Winnie the Pooh theme song extremely soothing, which resulted in her naming a certain group chat with a set of friends the 100 Acre Woods - because she finds spending time with them soothing too.

○ I’m always willing to discuss my muses, so feel free to hit me up if you have any questions at any point.

a tl;dr history //

○ Balo’s home life growing up was far from perfect. Her father, Lance - is an abusive alcoholic, and while her mother tried her best to protect her children - she also covered things up without hesitation because she loves her husband. It wasn’t uncommon to see a Driskell in the ER with a lie and people willing to back up the story.

○ Balo was conceived during the time Lance and Cassandra were seperated the only time that her mother tried to leave. She’s completely unaware that she’s not Lance’s biological daughter (as is everyone else).

○ She’s been attending Luxor since freshman year, although she had to leave in the middle of her Junior year had to leave for a few months to attend extensive inpatient treatment. She came back in April, although she could not rejoin the cheerleading and gymnastic teams until her therapist confirmed she was doing well (so the start of her senior year) because of concerns about her well-being.

○ She was disowned following her HIV diagnosis over the fall. Over the winter, the Fieldings adopted Balo.

○ I strongly recommend skimming Balo’s timeline page before interacting with her. These are just the bare minimum basics, and there're more things your muse may know on there.

wanted connections //

○ Friendships

○ Someone to manipulate her, please I beg you

○ Anyone who knows her from the gymnastics and/or cheer teams, or the art club

#luxorintro #child abuse tw #abuse tw #HIV tw #disownment tw #eating disorder tw #anorexia tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw

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overwhore-s · 4 years ago

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Hello again!! Your local Bog Demon, the h/nd h/lder, has crawled from the depths!! I have a funky little request this time: Kakyoin, Bruno, Rohan, Jotaro (any part is good!), and (of course) Mista with how they would confess to their S/O? Like, would they make a big deal of it? Would it be planned whatsoever? Or would they just blurt it out without thinking? Thank you so much again, I can't wait to see what fabulous ideas you bring to the table!! I hope you're having a wonderful start to November, and don't forget make some time for yourself today!! 🧡✨

Kakyoin, Bruno, Rohan, Jotaro and Mista confessing to their S/O

Kakyoin

Someone please help Kakyoin. He thought he would be immune to getting crushes as an adult but how wrong that assumption was. He’s so nervous about the whole ordeal, oh no.

Always hypes himself up only to quickly change the subject when getting anywhere close to confessing.

Someone save him. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. After like the fifth time this happens you ask, inpatient and insanely curious, what and he’s like nothing.

After becoming truly desperate, he turns to Polnareff for help. And Pol gives probably the stupidest dating/love advice you’ve ever heard, so Kakyoin figures it might just work.

And so one day when you’re hanging out he’s like “I know someone who has a crush on you” and you’re like “Oh? Do tell me more” and at this point you totally know it’s him but damn, you want to hear him say it, so you play along.

Kakyoin, adept at mind games, replies with “Well, you know, I don’t want to tell you because what if you don’t want him back and that would be awkward” and you say “So it’s a he!” And somehow it turns into a game where you try to guess various facts about your mysterious suitor and he can only say yes or no.

And you get inpatient of course, because it’s evident he’s getting nervous again due to how fidgety and sweaty he looks, and so you proclaim you know someone who has a crush on him, and this is not something he was expecting, so he just stutters something incoherently, after which you can only roll your eyes and put him out of his misery by saying “It’s me, dipshit”

Kakyoin chuckles in disbelief, ‘cause really? You aren’t messing with him? You must shake your head about a hundred times before he fully believes you.

Bruno

Bruno goes all out. Reservation at a fancy restaurant, check. Live music to play in the background while you’re eating, check. A private gondola ride at night, check. Someone please tell this man it’s only a confession, not a proposal.

He just wants everything to be perfect, okay? Regardless of how you react, he wants you to have an unforgettable night. That’s how much he means what he’s about to say.

His speech is perfect. Definitely rehearsed it before Abbacchio. Definitely got caught saying it to Abbacchio by Narancia and confused the hell out of everyone.

His intentions are obvious from the very start. Hell, with how absolutely sweet and attentive and doting he’s been acting, you’d have to be a special kind of oblivious, if not just plain stupid, to not figure this out. Like c’mon, you’re in a gondola alone with him, underneath the starry night sky and he’s looking at you with that adoring smile of his and God, you could kiss him right now.

There’s a 99% chance you do kiss him and he doesn’t even get to give his thoroughly practiced confession speech because he’s too busy kissing you back.

The wedding’s in three months. And yeah, he wants kids.

Rohan

Of course he doesn’t rehearse his confession, nor put any extra care into it. Hell, he’s Kishibe Rohan and perfection can’t do wrong, so why should he?

Remember the “I love you, most ardently” scene from Pride & Prejudice (starring Keira Knightley)? Well, he’s exactly like Mr. Darcy. And by that I mean he just blurts it all out of nowhere in a terribly monotonous voice and somehow manages to insult you like five times before even getting to the actual confession.

And if you get upset, and rightfully so, because you would have liked it much better if he was able to admit his feelings without reminding you of your apparent inferiority every second sentence, he gets shook?? Like he doesn’t compute. In his head it sounded just right, and he was being honest, so why are you making a scene?

Please, do roast him right back. Call him an arrogant insensitive bastard. This man won’t know he’s wronged you otherwise.

After he realizes his mistake, he actually comes to you with an apology, and that alone is a confession on its own, because to how many people is the great Kishibe Rohan willing to admit he was wrong? Damn few, and you have to be special to count yourself among them.

Jotaro

Ocean Man, as well all know, is emotionally constipated. As soon as he starts catching feelings he tries to bury them deep and deny them, but it’s no use – you’ve already wormed your way into his heart.

He’s going to take his sweet time confessing, mostly because he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve you. He’s seriously more scared of you feeling the same way than of rejection. So many things in his life have gone wrong…he doesn’t want to drag you into his misery.

He changes his mind only when his strategy to act cold and distance himself from you fails. Despite his best attempts to drive you away, you want to spend time with him even when he’s grumpy and calling you annoying daily and what’s worse, you show genuine concern for him.

Finally, you ask the dreaded question – “What’s wrong?” – and that’s it for him. Even though he says just three words, I love you, simple and straight to the point, his voice cracks so much and he feels like the dam holding back all his affection for you breaks in that one moment. It’s too much to bear and he can barely look at you.

Maybe you’re surprised, maybe you’re not – regardless, you say I love you back, because it’s what he needs to hear right now and also how you felt for a long time now.

Holds hands with you for a long time afterwards, just enjoying the sense of calm and happiness the confession brought him.

Mista

Mista is…mostly chill? He’s Italian, damn it, he knows how to go about confessing your undying, unrivaled, unparalleled amore for someone.

Except no, he doesn’t.

What he has in mind is a complete disaster. Everyone tells him not to do it – except for Narancia, who is very into it and agrees to help out, actually – but he doesn’t listen.

He manages to convince Fugo as well in the end. It’s a dance, but also it’s more than that. It’s a bizarre sort of group dance slash serenade slash heartfelt confession, but from where you and the rest of the gang are sitting on the couch, it looks painfully awkward. At the end of it, Mista is in a pose on his knees and pointing at you. Bruno claps and after some hesitation, Giorno joins in. It’s too much. You run.

He runs after you because what is wrong babe and didn’t you like it and you can’t say you didn’t – it was entertaining as hell – but god Mista, did you have to do it in front of everyone?

He explains he wanted everyone to be a part of it because they’re like family and suddenly he looks so beaten and disappointed in himself you can’t do nothing else but throw your arms around him and hug the absolute shit out of him.

Sure, it was unexpected and outlandish, but you knew what you were getting into when you joined the gang and now that you had a little time to process your feelings, you reciprocate them with fervor.

Everyone cheers – and Narancia cries – as Mista takes you on your real first date immediately after the confession.

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