#maybe i should try to find a psychiatrist or something before it gets too busy. like if possible

[devilsskettle]

my workplace is gonna have extended hours coming up so my life is going to be miserable for 2 months starting in 2 weeks

[mymadmedleyw]

I had a shitty night -- rant -- had to let out...

Sister says I always find excuses for my doing or lack of doing or lack of doings that would fulfil her and daily expectations... she might be right. I'm a piece of shit above everything else and every happening... I'm curious and wondering, though, with keeping sanity, how this semester can be survived with 100%+ success, no failing and be a perfect model of life, with tidiness init, shopping when required, and constant serving while doing a hard MSc in a second language? Really, I just want this to end, and I swear to god, if I had money, I'd move because this is unbearable, especially at the edge of complete breaking. This is unfair, I try, but I cannot do more, I'm already breaking under everything this semester - beyond stuffs that came it and above current issue in fam. I'm fulfilling to be a sort of homemakee, but that's what I got: I'm the damn master of excuses because I told her straight I can't care about once travelling to Amsterdam, planning that flying for hours and I didn't show any interest in it as she wished and expected. Now we don't speak with each other because I hurt her feelings. For a last note in the debate, I dropped her that I am failing in my studies - she says that I must have said it to make her feel bad, and that's another excuse I make up. No, she missed that I told it to her to understand that given the known circumstances, this is why Amsterdam is in the last place on my priority list to care with. She says I should have told her my struggles and that's another excuse that I didn't tell anyone because everyone is dealing with their shit, and I didn't wish anyone more stress. She says I should tell fam the weekend about it, and she doesn't seem to understand that maybe just before dad's surgery is not the best timing. She says that my note that I haven't dropped before - I actually said her several times that it is not easy and all my free times are filled with, that remained after asked to be maid-in-honour to my friend and organiser of her bachelorette party within a month's notice when things have began to hit the fan in my studies - suggests that she doesn't care about me and it's only an aggressive calling out by me now that she didn't notice it. It isn't. I was the one who messed up everything, in the beginning of February and since everything just happening the same time. I'm failing because within the wedding and the stuffs we got informed - dad's state - there were only two weeks. I couldn't study or focus in the past week for obvious reasons. Now here we are. Two weeks are back from the semester. My sis asked about Amsterdam first just before the wedding stuff started. I told her I was busy to care about it. She tried and tried, I kept saying her I am busy due to arranging stuff and studies. No I am the Queen of excuses because I always find something as an excuse in the year it seems perhaps she is right, and I am a bad person not doing more regarding everything. But I cannot see how it can be possible doable I am already losing my sanity, my mental health and due that I missed in schools several days already because depression hit me hard, but she doesn't believe I might have problems. She thinks I am joking with a psychiatrist - note, I couldn't get a time for that because... I don't have time. But I need it and need some pills, too, because I know I am not doing enough when I should and ought to. And I am a bad sister, crowned as excuses-king.

[hyperesthesias]

Falling for Dogma

SUMMARY: You are a chief psychiatrist at a Kaminoan reconditioning facility. Dogma has been brought in as your patient as a result of the events on Umbara. Something doesn't sit quite right with you about his case -- or your job. How far will you go to do what's right?

CONTENT: Angst ; Amnesia ; Brainwashing ; Action violence ; Mutual pining ; SFW.

NOTES: This got away from me, but honestly? I love it. Enjoy, loves -- like, reblog, and comment what you think! 💕

He meets you after he's been reconditioned. He doesn't really remember what happened on Umbara, but all he knows is that there's something lurking in his memory he'd rather not uncover.

You help him through the difficult days. When things seem blurred and uneven. His brain has been through a lot and sometimes it can be overwhelming for him to handle. The absences in his memory can make him agitated, especially towards people who don't understand. But you do. You've seen many clones who've been reconditioned, it's not pretty -- and nothing about it is ethical.

If you're honest with yourself -- which you try not to be, except when you're alone, in the middle of the night -- you'll find there are pieces of your life you don't remember, either. It's unsettling, and you try not to think about it often.

But there's something about Dogma's case, about Dogma himself that's eerily familiar.

The two of you become closer as time edges onward, you're helping him get a handle on military life again, on what his duties are, making sure he's mentally sound enough to continue his life mission. It's been three weeks since the events on Umbara, and you don't believe that's been enough time to fully facilitate his recovery. But the pressure's on as the war mounts up, and you're being asked to sign off on his release.

He feels comfortable around you. Out of all the other staff, you're compassionate, you see him -- as a person. You understand his plight. He confides in you that things are starting to come back to him in dreams -- dark dreams. He's plagued with regret, with feeling a fool, and he tells you if he could turn back time and change it all, he would.

You put a hand on his face -- it's weathered and rough. What he's seen, what he's been through, is more than any person should have to bear. You tell him you know he was doing what he thought was right. That no one can blame him for what he'd done.

'Do you?' he asks. You shake your head, and caress his cheek with your thumb. He holds your hand there and nestles his face into your palm. Everything he's feeling -- from the love to the regret -- is against everything he's been taught, everything he's supposed to symbolize and stand for. He's supposed to be cold, unattached, unyielding. But when he's with you, when he's in your deft and capable hands, he feels soft and malleable. Like clay. You could break him, easily, and he knows it. But he also knows you won't. You would never.

Everything comes back to him one night, and he's in terrible distress. You're the only one he'll talk to, he's been getting violent with anyone else who comes near him. You're immediately called to his room and you help him calm down. He says he remembers everything -- Umbara, Krell, the reconditioning itself. 'It feels like hell,' he says, his head in his hands. 'Like they take you apart and put you back together. Under their machines, under their microscopes --'

And your face goes cold, and your throat tightens -- because you know that feeling. You know it...well. Lights in your eyes, pain in your head, you've been under that same microscope -- twice you think, that you can remember. What do you remember? Is what you remember yours? You remember arguing, heated words, being unable to leave the lab as a threat to the reconditioning operation. You were told you'd be helping the clones with their psychiatric needs, but you'd been terribly misled. By the time you understood, by the time you spoke up, protested, it was too late.

You hold Dogma as he sobs. He's been deceived once again, and he thinks he'll never be more than a fool. Blinded by duty. You feel the same.

You tell him. You tell him everything you remember: the lies, the deception by the Kaminoans, and Dogma is close to despairing.

But you have an idea.

Under the cover of night, and the pretense of shuffling him back into the reconditioning chambers, you are able to smuggle Dogma out of the facility. You steal a ship and make it to a defunct Kaminoan safe house off world. It gives you time to regroup, reassess, and check to make sure he's alright.

His head is is spinning, but he's cogent of the situation you're both in. Technically now, you're both deserters. Something he never thought he'd become. But he looks at the ship, looks at a reflection of himself, the scars on his face, the tattoo that once set him apart from his brothers, and he looks at you -- and he realizes there is no other choice. There is no going back. Not with what he knows, not with what he's seen. The Republic has already fallen, he decides -- too washed up in its own blood to discover it's already become the enemy. He no longer serves a just democracy, but a nightmare factory.

You decide the same.

'They'll be looking for us,' you say. 'We'd better move out quickly, they'll look at their own properties first.' You gather supplies that had been abandoned, medical, financial, and otherwise. 'Then it's good they taught me every trick in the book,' he's trying to remain positive. But both of you know your chances are bleak. 'You'll have a better chance of escaping without me,' you say. You're a chief technician, a head psychiatrist, you're valuable. Dogma they would take dead or alive, his capture would only serve to fulfill military standards. But you -- with you, your fate won't be so merciful. 'I'm not abandoning you,' he says, staunchly. He's as stubborn now as he was on Umbara -- but this time, he knows he's making the right decision, 'I've abandoned enough already. I'm not leaving you behind.'

There's something in his voice, something more than fealty, loyalty. It's emotive and passionate. He cares about you, and it's plain for you to see. But he's good at hiding it. He's good at not holding onto attachments, and he'll pretend he's not attached to you. You pretend not to notice.

You ditch the ship and wander into the small city nearby, barter weapons you found at the safehouse for another, smaller ship. Dogma is a far better pilot, and knows how to cloak the signal of the ship to keep anyone within a small proximity from tracking you. 'I didn't take you for the devious type,' you grin. 'Yeah, you learn a few things serving under Skywalker,' he grins back. 'You're full of surprises,' you lean back and notice he's hiding a blush.

After a run in with a bounty hunter sent by the Kaminoans, the two of you go underground and disappear. Dogma and the ship and badly injured in the fight. When the ship crashed on Ryloth, Dogma engaged the hunter hand to hand. With a few untrained blaster bolts from you, Dogma was able to get an upper hand and snap the hunter's neck in two.

You're able to help him limp to safety in a nearby, shelled out house, another victim of the war. You patch him up, and wave off his insistence on leaving him behind. 'This isn't the GAR,' you tell him, firmly, and look him in the eye. 'You're not expendable to me. I'm not leaving you behind.' His eyes water and his heart is thumping fast inside his chest. There are so many things he wants to say, and so many reasons why he knows he shouldn't say them. But he loves you -- that much he's certain of.

When he's able to walk, the two of you scour for a place to claim as your own. To hide and lie low. A mountain dwelling carved out of the sandstone, tucked away in a pasture sprawling before the mountain face.

It's a strange life for you both -- full of unspoken words, and routines that keep the body and mind busy. The hope that maybe one day he'll tell you, maybe one day you'll tell him, keeps him going. He owes you his life, and he knows his life isn't worth much. So he does everything he can to live up to what you deserve.

He's made a lot of mistakes, but loving you, being with you, protecting you with life and limb, he knows isn't one of them.

[gandrewheadcannons]

I wanted to share some writing I had done earlier this summer with you all! If you like it let me know if I should continue? It’s meant to be a story focusing around the beginning of their time in Washington and into the podcast. I’ve left it at a really weird stop but that’s all I had so far.

Title: Undetermined

Pairing: Garrett Watts/Andrew Siwicki

Tags: Mention of prescription medicine, mention of Jeffree/Shane/Ryland, unfinished

Evening is dimly creeping through the half-opened windowpane casting a glow across the built-in table connected to the cramped inner wall of Andrew's microscopic kitchenette. His studio apartment in LA sat cramped in-between Hollywood and Calabasas, a mediocre waypoint for his work for the last few years. He clicks the viewfinder and focuses on the bright oranges and yellows that dance teasingly across the glittering tabletop; catching flicks of sliver and reflecting them back to the lens. A mug of dark roast with just an edge of too much cream is left forgotten in the corner of the frame. It feels cinematic and lonely all at once. The cafe style booth he sits in causes his back to ache, the rest of the kitchen a sterile and unforgiving white, but he misses capturing the day to day beauty the world had to offer. He imagines the reel being played back with a layered sound of twinkling windchimes, quiet laughter and a piano reverb with cuts of the morning sunrise on a hike and steam off the top of a ceramic mug. A familiar face with flecks of blonde in the beard, strong jawed and a roguish smile weaving in and out of the frame, turning back to laugh at something the cameraman said.

“-with a mandate like this.” Garrett is brushing his teeth through Facetime. Andrew catches the corner of his bamboo toothbrush flashing in and out of the lens. He must have laid his Iphone flat on the countertop because when Andrew really looks he can see the bottom of the mirror and a bunch of bright light.

“I know. It sucks. Couldn’t get honey the other day, man. Fucking honey. It’s not like the bees are going anywhere.” He laughs but it doesn’t feel funny. The minimal supply he had was dwindling thin. He was beginning to ration his meals and he wasn’t sure how much toilet paper was left under the bathroom sink. It was all very apocalyptic without any of the zombies or scientists swooping in with immediate remedies.

“Ah dude.” Garrett spits and there’s a tapping sound like he’s hitting his toothbrush on the edge of the porcelain sink before he fully pops into frame. He looks relaxed, sandy hair flopped to one side and beard properly scruffy though they’d only been locked down about a week and a half now. “I know. I can’t handle it anymore. I miss people.” Andrew hums at that. He doesn’t really. He misses the occasional gathering, sure, but he hadn’t quite placed his anxiety surrounding the idea of seeing others since they’d released the Jeffree series. "What was it that bothered you most about taking part in this?" His therapist had asked him. "I missed the fun," he’d answered. "What was the fun?" She’d pressed deeper. "Garrett," Andrew had been quick to reply. "And like. Everyone else too." He'd added when she hadn't said anything. "I miss it not feeling work." She had let him talk about that instead.

"Some people." He tacks on to Garrett who hums easily. He doesn’t think he misses many of the people he’d spent most of 2019 with, his life a mixed cocktail of Ambien, Adderall and Lexapro without any feelings of relaxation manifesting. His psychiatrist had discouraged upping his doses anymore and by early January she began urging him to begin seeking new opportunities to “work on his environment”. He hadn’t quite figured out the avenue to take to do just that.

"Well, some people." Garrett agrees and he's already back out on his couch. "I don't know how many more times I can watch Winter Soldier before I freak out." Garrett sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Same as you and every other person." He turns his camera off. He needs the break from the screen.

"I miss you." Garrett is easy like that. He isn't ashamed to tell people how he feels in every moment. It was something to be admired and yet Andrew just felt envy at it. When Garrett had begun to slip away from him, melting like honeydew sweet and sour into a depth of a place where Andrew couldn't quite find him, he'd only managed to grab him back out by Garrett's honesty. Doesn't know if they'd be having this conversation if Garrett hadn't used that honesty like an anchor and letting Andrew catch him last minute with it.

"I can come over." Andrew offers. He hates being confined in these walls anyways. It was hollow and dark. The email from Shane still sat open on his Mac across the room on his bed. Thinking of extending the break, can't really decide. Want to get quarantined together? I have a few video ideas we could maybe mess around with or just film some day to day footage until creativity strikes us it reads. His skin itches for the company but the image of their guest room makes him uneasy. Doesn't know if he could withstand being there with very little to fill his hands with, editing complete and no real ideas on the table for the time being.

"I can come to you." Garrett offers like he was inconveniencing Andrew who had offered anyways.

"If you touch your car right now I am going to freak out Garrett Watts." Andrew admonishes. "The second they open up the garages and mechanics again I'm making you take that thing there, burn it and we get a new one." He's opening a duffle now and throwing in his travel toiletries and a few pairs of underwear.

"Oh come on Andrew it's not so bad." Garrett laughs as if Andrew wasn't still reeling from the aftermath phone call of Garrett nearly wrecking on the 101 barreling top speeds until he reached a secluded patch of grass to slow his Pirus down onto. By the time Andrew heard the story Garrett was okay; Michael had gone to pick him up and Garrett was sending pictures of little Star Wars figurines that Michael kept mounted on his dashboard. His heart didn’t calm until he had managed to get his hands on Garrett in person though, sneaking out for an afternoon to grab some coffee with Garrett before heading back to Shane’s to finish editing. His shins still feel heavy with the weight of Garrett’s calf as he’d pressed their knees together until the table while they’d talked – the weight reminding him of how alive and okay Garrett really was.

"Oh yeah a car that dies out randomly is really great." Andrew throws in a box of protein bars and a Gatorade into his bag. He hesitates before grabbing a stitched bear made from gray yarn, green buttons for eyes luring him in. "I'll be over soon." He doesn't know how well the conversation will hold up over Facetime as he's moving.

"Okay cool Andrew." Garrett's eyes are soft. "See you soon. My dad is actually calling."

"Tell him I said hi. See you soon." He so easily could tack on endearment, babe at the tip of his tongue burning hot. Garrett's ending the call before Andrew even has the chance.

**

The half opened can of frosting is across from, the only lights on are the ones twinkling from some intricate set up Garrett had on a shelf. Garrett’s on the third loop of the home screen on Prime, humming thoughtfully whenever he pauses on a summary to read but then continuing to scroll before picking one. He’s slumped down low, long legs kicked out on the coffee table while Andrew is curled up in a ball against his side. Once, Caleb had pointed out that if people didn’t know them they’d get the impression that they were dating. Garrett and Andrew had awkwardly laughed at that comment, tinged with humiliation at how their relationship was being interpreted. They tried to be better then, not letting themselves fall so in sync when other people were around.

Andrew loved it like this though, when it was just him and Garrett, so he could press his cheek into Garrett’s bicep and not have to question why it felt so right. In his left hand his phone illuminated with another message from Shane. Opening it he read a message about how much they all missed him and wanted him there during this time. Apparently Ryland was looking for someone to help film a video he had planned. He quickly shut the screen off and pulled back from Garrett some, his stomach in a sudden tangle of knots.

“Good?” Garrett asked him looking down. His crew neck was for Spokane and looked a little like the Taco Bell logo from when they were younger. He’d paired it with a pair of sweat shorts for the night as they were both supposed to be going to bed soon. Andrew picked at his own Adidas track pants, imagining a loose thread to busy his hands.

“You ever just. Feel like you gotta get out?” He tilts his head to the side and watches Garrett pause what he’s doing with his Playstation controller and set it carefully on his coffee table.

“In what way?” He asks thoughtfully, turning so his chest was open to Andrew. Their knees bumped and Andrew felt like a little boy when he wished he could crawl and hide in the empty space of Garrett’s lap.

“Like okay. Say you just really loved what you used to do. You basically achieved your dream job. You have all these amazing people, you like your boss, things are going really great and you’re making a lot of money.”

“You buy yourself a really good vacuum.” Garrett plays along teasingly causing them both to laugh.

“You get yourself those stackable containers for your meal prepped lunches.” Andrew plays back. “But then…” He runs his tongue inside his teeth then outside methodically. He searches his brain to try to figure out what to say to Garrett to

“Then?” He drums his fingers on Andrew’s knees to get him back to the present.

[son-fuori-di-me]

"I had no idea I could change someone's life."

One Shot. Word Count | Around 3300. Description | <French female pov> you're visiting Rome for the first time, and you casually meet Damiano David the day before the Circo Massimo concert. The conversation takes a unexpected path.

Content | Real talk. No romantic development. * Expect French idioms and italian approximations from automatic translators

---

"Bordel, c'est immense !" ("Holy cow, that's big !") I said, looking at the Circo Massimo.

It was my first time in Rome. Knowing Italy a bit, I expected a hell lot of sun, a delicious bunch of ice cream for each meal, and tons of pretty things to snap with my phone. Well, that was the plan for my first two days there. Cause Saturday would be a very different day. Saturday would be Måneskin day.

I've been waiting for so long to do this trip. And what a blast it has been for now. Took only a bag, my external battery, some makeup and my favourite clothes to finally discover this astonishing city. This was my first solo trip. I've always travelled with my family or my ex, but never on my own. For once, I could decide what I wanted to see, what I wanted to eat, when to take a break. And as there are plenty of things to see in Rome, i wanted to enjoy every second of my trip. I could focus my last day there solely to the Måneskin concert happening that Saturday night. But as I didn't want to leave anything to chance, I decided to precisely organize my last day, so I could visit a bit more - a get a last fantastic meal before the concert.

I got myself a gold pit ticket. I guessed that would mean I had a special queue. So on Friday night, as I was back from a late tour in town, I decided to watch more closely the Circo, to check for the entrances, and see how I could sharpen my organization and schedule for the next day.

"J'espère que je vais pas avoir à poireauter toute la journée, avec la chaleur qu'il va faire." ("I hope won't have to hang around here all day tomorrow, the weather's gonna be hot as hell")

It was almost 10 pm. I was getting closer to the Circo, trying to read the boards, but all was written in italian and didn't seem to concern the concert. And a year fangirling over Måneskin clearly wasn't enough to become fluent. I saw no sign mentioning "gold pit". So I decided I would ask around, with Google translate ready in my phone in case I couldn't find anyone speaking English.

I saw a guy sit on a bench, smoking. He was dressed in an ugly dark sweater, with the hood over a cap. He was either a drug dealer or a hobbo. My instinct as a girl living in Paris got the uphand and I decided to ignore the guy and try to find a woman instead, or maybe a group of locals, to get me the information I wanted. Unfortunately, after a good 20 minutes walking around and asking people, no one could tell me how to make sure I find the right queue for the concert. I was about to give up and head back to my airbnb and I saw a silhouette still sitting on a bench, near the Circo. It was the same guy from earlier. "Bon, je tente, s'il est trop chelou, je me barre." ("Well, might as well take the risk, if he's too much a weirdo, I clear off quickly.")

"Scusi, do you speak English ?" i said, getting closer to the guy, but still from a good distance in case it turned wrong.

"Pretty good. You need something ?" He was searching something in his pockets and reached his pack of cigarettes. His voice was deep, but gentle. He did look funny but didn't sound dangerous - i still didn't get too close as I hate the smell of smoke.

"Do you know well il Circo Massimo ? I'm going to a concert here tomorrow and I want to make sure I find the right queue, but they haven't installed any sign yet". I asked, showing the structure of the stage behind me.

"Cute accent, where are you from ?" he answered, completely ignoring my question.

"Well, I'm French. So, do you know il Circo ?" I preferred to quickly repeat my question to let him know I wasn't interested in whatever he was trying to.

"Ah, Bonjour ! I speak a little French !" He said, now reaching for his lighter.

"Yeeaaaah cool, but how about the Circo ? I'd like to be here early enough, but I don't know wh-" I froze as he lighted up his cigarette. It was brief, but with the spark, I saw his face for a second.

"Hm ? You don't know what ?" He asked, with a smirky voice.

"Mais naaaan ?" ("Dont tell me -") I let out that typical French astonished sound without thinking. "You gotta be kidding me !"

He laughed as I was getting a little closer, staring at him. With one hand, he was putting his lighter back in his pocket, with the other, he lifted a bit his cap. It was him. It was Damiano.

I felt my spine shiver with that uncomfortable sensation of being around someone famous. As a journalist, I had my lot of interviews, so I knew there's no point in changing behavior around such people. But I still was flabbergasted to see him.

"Sorry, I didn't recognize you. Well, gotta say you're not dressed in your best outfit !" I chose the strategy of sass, to hide how impressed I actually was.

"That's my favourite sweater you're seeing me in, and I'm smoking hot in it" He said with a smirk, getting into the sassy game.

"Time off before the big day ?" I asked, completely forgotting about my initial request and switching to my interview mindset when I'm super focused about the conversation. "Shouldn't you be having a great night of sleep, to recharge your batteries ?"

"I don't feel like going to bed" He said, having no idea how the conversation would soon turn. Fortunately for him, I wasn't working in the music media industry. "That's quite a stage we're gonna play on."

I didn't know why he was talking to me about all of this. I didn't dare to ask him either. I just enjoyed the moment.

"Well, the Eurovision song contest was bigger, wasn't it ?"

"Hm, don't tell me about it, I still don't know how I managed that."

He suddenly had a strange tone in his voice. It didn't sound like the radiant and confident Damiano you see on Instagram stories or on TV interviews. I remembered where I heard him like that. In the 2019 documentary "This is Måneskin", the making of Il Ballo Della Vita album, in the sequence he's arguing with Vic on a train, as he tells her how anxious he can be get sometimes.

"Well, you did, didn't you ?" I put on a more serious voice. "And you had a ton more of pressure, representing your whole country ? So how a concert here in your home town could be worst than performing in front of all of Europe - not to say the whole world ?"

He was still smoking, listening in silence.

"Or maybe it isn't about how big the performance is but about performing in itself ? Why are you performing ? Why are you putting on a show ? All those fancy clothes and that makeup, who is it for ? For people to love you ? Or for you to love yourself ?"

Mais qu'est-ce que je branle ? Il va se barrer dans deux secondes, là c'est sûr (What the fuck am I doing ? He's leaving any second now.) I got a bit too excited about being able to share a few words with him. What's gotten onto me ? Well, let's go then.

"What is it you're running after ? Or running from maybe ? Some complex to compensate ? With all that smudge and confidence, that wouldn't surprise me."

He sat back on the bench. As he inhaled a deep breath of smoke, I saw a smile on his face. But I also saw his hand holding the cigarette shaking.

"Are you a psychiatrist or something ?" He simply said, as if he was trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

I hesitated to tell him the truth. I was sure he would walk away the second he would know my actual job. Et puis merde, autant tout dire. (Well, fuck, might as well be honest.)

"Nope, I'm a journalist." I admited, as he looked right back at me with a surprised look. "Pretty much the same. We get appoitments with random people, listen to their life, observe their body language, and tell them our whole opinion about all of it, which might very well shape how they perceive themselves from now on."

"Only difference is that you don't have to keep anything secret. Right the contrary."

There. This was it. He was gonna leave now, for sure.

"Before you go, did I hit any truth ? Don't worry, I'm not in the music media industry, I won't write anything from our conversation." I hoped this information would save me a few more seconds with him.

He didn't answer right away. He didn't leave either. He kept looking at me, still smoking his second cigarette in a row now.

"Whatever it is you write about, I guess you must be good at it" he finally replied. "Cause you did score a few points."

Another short silence broke. As a fan, I was obsessed with his music, lyrics, and attitude. But catching a glimpse of what lied behind the glamour definitly caught my interest. I wanted to know more.

"Why are you here ?" I slightly deepened my voice, getting back to my interview tone, and kept on going with this as if that was usual business for me. "It's half past 10. You play on Rome's largest stage tomorrow. You surely better should be in bed, or be about to, before the big day."

In that moment, I had the upper-hand in the conversation. He was sat on the bench, I was on my feet in front of him, and therefore above him. Not the best approach to get someone's trust for an interview, but with a personnality like Damiano's, you gotta put your own show.

"I actually don't sleep much before big events like these" He finally answered, accepting his condition as an interviewee. "I don't sleep much at all."

"You're tend to insomnia ?"

"Not really, I just got used to 4-5 hours of sleep, that's it."

"Even during tours ? Cause this all sold-out European tour for Teatro d'Ira must have been exhausting".

"You have no idea, bellezza."

"So tell me." From there, I decided to change my strategy and sat on the ground, still in front of him, but giving him the upper-hand, to put on a more trustful atmosphere. "How are you doing ? And I don't mean, like casual 'yay, fine', I mean : how are you doing ?"

I still have no idea of my tactical move of giving him more space to express himself worked, or if he understood right away where I was leading him, but in the end, he still didn't seem bothered by this conversation we were having. In fact, it looked like he was enjoying it.

"I'm... content, I'd say." He paused, and I didn't interrupt him with another question this time. "I know I'm going through the life I wanted. The music, the tours, the praise. It's all I could have ever asked for."

D'accord, très bien, mais ? (Okey, very good, but ?) I stayed silent, but I couldn't help anticipating what he was saying.

"But surprisingly, sometimes it's still... unfulfilling. Like I can never be satisfied".

Repressing some Hamilton's lyrics from my mind, I innocently pretend I didn't fully understand what he meant - another journalistic technique, to get someone to repeat themselves with other words in order to get them deeper into their reflexion.

"What do you mean, "never be satisfied" ? You're on top of Spotify chart list, your albums are now platinum successes, you're winning awards. How is this not satisfying ?"

"It's just... What are all those things for ? Money ? Fame ? Yeah, I like those but..."

"Typical Capricorn" I muttered, to slide in the conversation that I actually knew pretty well my subject - my subject being him. He chuckled.

"Damn really ? Let me guess ? Aries ?"

"Pisces+Taurus, actually. So what, you don't like being famous ?" Getting back quickly into more questions - another technique to keep control over the rhythm of an interview.

"It's not that I dislike it. It's just... not always as fun as I thought it would be."

"What part of the job ? The writing and composing ?"

"No, that's the best part." He reached for a third cigarette. It was almost 11 pm now. "Vic, Thomas and Ethan. Måneskin. They're the best thing that ever happened to me".

"Then what, you feel like a fraud ?"

"Hell, no ! I'm exactly where I should be." He claimed, with a light pride tone.

"So, if you're proud of what you create, and if you love the people you create that with, then what is the matter ? If life is about getting the Bare Necessities, it seems like you got it all." Hitting with a universal - and musical - reference. Shoud do the trick.

"Hahaha ! Lo stretto indispensabile, si ! But life isn't that easy." He said laughing, as I felt he started to let go of the tension. "In real life, you get judged all the time, and people try to dismantle you, and spread rumors."

"I didn't think you'd be one to listen to people's comments about you".

"I'm not. I stopped giving credits to those. But it's still here, you know ?"

"From what I see, you're keeping it real, with lots of wisdom. I can't quite grasp what seem to bother you."

He paused, looking at his feet for a few seconds.

"I'm afraid it won't last." He finally confessed. "I'm afraid it all ends as quickly as it all started. I'm afraid people get bored. I'm afraid I become a caricature of myself. I'm afraid I can't write new songs. I'm afraid to be a shooting star, you see ? Very bright, but gone in a flash."

"Like, to be an Icare ? Or may I say "Ykaaar" like on your Instagram ?"

He chuckled again.

"Huh, I'm that obvious ?"

"Yeah, even a bit over-the-top, if I may dare say so."

"Well, I've always related so much with this mythological figure. I mean what's wrong with aiming for the Sun ?" He said, pointing a hand to the dark sky above us. From his attitude, I could tell he was way more relaxed than in the beginning. He even took his cap and hood off, so I could now see his face more clearly. His eyes were glittering. "Burning your wings... What's that morale supposed to teach us ? Be modest ? Be moderate ? Che noia !" (How boring !)

"Well don't be !" I felt almost like scolding him. "There's nothing wrong with seeking big dreams. As there's nothing wrong with this feeling of being outrun by your life. Savour the moment. Every second of it. It's because you can't know how long it may last that it tastes so good, so thrilling ! And you actually already are ten steps ahead ! Writing songs like ´Torna a casa' or ´Coraline' at, what, 19-20 years old ? You're the real deal, dude. And even if later on, you get blank page anxiety or write just good-enough songs, it's okey. You got plenty of time to make mistakes. Take the leap of faith. Failing and being a failure aren't the same. You learn, you grow from it. It's okey to doubt yourself, but please, don't ever doubt all the love and support you get."

I paused, hoping I didn't do too far and missed my point. But in a way, I could also feel I got it right. He was looking at the Circo, his eyes even more sparkling than before.

"I..." He got up, standing on the bench, looking as tall as a statue from my perspective. He came down and took a few steps. I got on my feet, starting to feel concerned about what I just said.

"I didn't know I needed to hear that." He finally confided. "I always wanna reach perfection. I'm aware I can be authoritative, sometimes even harsh, on the band. I can't accept to be a failure. But love and support, that, I can't get enough of."

I didn't respond. There was nothing to add. This instant felt like an hour. The wind was slightly blowing through the length of the Circo in front of us. His hair reflected the gentle light of the moon, only showing her first quarter. He broke the tranquility of the moment, turning and taking a few steps in my direction.

"Grazie mille" he said, his arms opened, calling for a hug.

"But, you're very welcome" I said approaching him, softly putting my arms on his back as he put his over my shoulders. The second before his face disappeared from my vision, i noticed a tear on his cheek.

"You've completed reset my mind. I feel like I can start all over again. I was anguished, trapped by my anxiety. But it's all gone now. You've changed me. Thank you, thank you so much" He affirmed full of hope, his voice shivering.

"Wow, well. I had no idea I could change someone's life." I answered, trying to hide how moved I myself was from the conversation.

------

It was almost midnight now. We kept talking for a while, comparing life in Rome and Paris, exchanging what was our best concert experiences. But he still needed to get back home to rest before the concert, and I didn't want to arrive too late at my airbnb - even if I could have spent the whole night talking with him. Yet, to enjoy our last few minutes together, he offered to walk me back to where I was staying. It was just a 15 minutes walk, along the Tevere river bank.

"So tell me." he asked with a smirk. "How does the Bare Necessities go in French ?" He started to muffle the melody.

"Oh no, you don't expect me to actually sing it ?"

"Hehe, you got me into a therapy session, so I can get a little song from you, no ?"

"Damn, you. This is blackmail !" But drunk on the moment, I took a deep breath.

"Il en faut peeeeeeu pour être heureux, ("Look for the baaaaare necessities,") vraiment très peu pour être heureux, ("the simple bare necessities") il faut se satisfaire du nécessaire !" ("Forget about your worries and your strife")"

I started dancing along, if I had to be ridiculous, might as well utterly be. But he actually followed my lead, clicking his fingers.

"In fondo, baaaasta il minimo, ("I mean the baaaaare necessities") sapessi quanto è facile ("Old Mother Nature's recipes") Trovar quel po' che occorre per campar ! ("That brings the bare necessities of life !")

We kept on singing Disney songs for a few minutes as we walked at a slow pace - I was shocked he never saw Tarzan and immediately made him promise to watch it as i told him Phil Collins recorded all the songs in five languages, including Italian. When we finally reached my destination, we exchanged a last timid hug as farewell.

"Well, I'll see you on stage tomorrow." I told him as I crossed the street.

"And I'll look for you in the crowd !" He shouted with the brightest smile on his perfect face.

** the end **

[write-orflight]

Like Real People Do. Chapter 4

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Sexual themes, talk about sex (not NSFW though), fainting, reader just being thirsty in general. 

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N We’re getting into the main crux of the story now! Message to be added to the taglist. thanks for reading! Much love, Cia

                Chapter 4: Why were you digging?  

Months pass and the early spring turns into hot humid D.C summer. You were never a big fan of the summer, you preferred the colder months despite the bad memories you had associated with them. 

Things changed and some things stayed the exact same. You caught bad guys, which was typical, you actually ended up getting tackled by a drunk Unsub once which results in you being out of the field with a broken arm for four weeks. You found a cat in an alley digging through the trash near your apartment one day when you were walking home. You left food out for him since until one day he decided to come up to you. And now you have a cat you affectionately named Garbage. 

You and Ethan (the guy from the bar) had a “situation-ship”, as Garcia liked to call it for about a month and a half. In your opinion, there was no situation-ship, you guys had mediocre sex until he wanted more and was upset you “worked too much”. So when he “broke up” with you, you weren’t really upset. Your heart wasn’t in it anyway. 

You and Spencer never talked about that night at the bar. In fact, you hardly talked at all. Your Saturday’s together stopped, you had no excuse to see each other now you were finished with school. Now that there was no thesis, there was no thesis for him to help with. 

That didn’t stop Spencer from occupying the space in your head rent-free though. You couldn’t help yourself, he was always in the forefront of your mind and frankly it was starting to affect how you worked. It was a paperwork day and everyone was working silently, merely coexisting and since there was nothing really going on your mind couldn’t help but wander. Spencer was sitting across you reading case files, taking occasional notes in a legal pad next to him. Your eyes instantly went to his hands as he traced it down the page as he often did when he was reading. You studied them for a while, long slender fingers resting on massive palms. You never thought you were someone who’d be attracted to hands but the amount of times you thought about them on particularly lonely nights, specifically the things he could do with them. 

Yea, it was enough to make you a cheirophile. 

You went back to watching him when suddenly one of the aforementioned hands were waving in your face. 

“Y/N” he said. “I’ve been calling your name for 3 minutes.” 

“I’m sorry, Spen.” You flush instantly at being caught. “What did you need?” 

“I asked if you had a red pen I could borrow?” 

“Yea.” You rummaged through your drawer, producing the pen in question. His hand brushes yours as he grabs it, you try very hard not to shiver at the contact but you couldn’t help it. “Keep it.” you say. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He says. “You’ve been extremely out of it lately.”

He was right, you have been out of it lately. Spencer was putting you out of it. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that night at the bar and your almost kiss. Since then, it was like he was trying to constantly bring your attention to his mouth, whether it was by his habit of stealing lollies from Garcia’s office or the constant biting and licking of his lips whenever he was deep in thought. They had seared their way into your frontal lobe without permission. 

Working with him had become exceptionally hard and an unwelcome distraction, especially out in the field. Last month, the two of you had gone undercover in a nightclub, an unsub had been murdering young couples who were overly affectionate in public, so you had to spend the night practically wrapped around the man you had an insane crush on, breathing in his scent. You sipped your “cocktail” (it was just cranberry juice) as Spencer kept his arm steady around your waist. Eventually, you hear Emily in the earpiece you were wearing. 

“You’ve gotta do more guys if we’re going to draw him out.” She says. 

“Yea and loosen up. If  you guys look uncomfortable, no ones going to believe you’re a couple.” Morgan adds. 

You and Spencer look at each other for a beat.  

“If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you’ll tell me right?” He whispers to you. You nod instantly. Suddenly Spencer’s arm is tighter around you, pulling you flush to his body. He dips down attaching his lips to your neck and jawline. You gasp, you had not been expecting that at all, you clutch your drink harder other hand moving to his side. He pulls you in tighter somehow, suddenly you feel his hand move downward until he is palming your ass, you bite your lip to keep your composure but his lips suddenly meet that spot behind your earlobe that he couldn’t have possibly known about prior. A quiet moan unintentionally rips through you and you could’ve sworn you felt his fingers twitch, squeezing your ass slightly. Emily and Morgan were right, the Unsub did approach you guys shortly after that and led you into the alley like he did so many couples before only to be met by your badges and guns. 

Then there was the time a couple of months ago when you and Reid had gone to interview a child psychiatrist and discovered that he was a molester. Spencer had been livid talking to the man, making threats that honestly should've been promises to throw the man in jail. You had never seen Spencer angry or at the very least this angry, and for some reason that turned you on beyond belief. 

You decided to close that can of worms and save it for another day. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” You say, smiling tightly at him turning back to your stack of files. You couldn’t be mad at Spencer for your inability to keep it in your pants while you were working. So that’s what you did, worked and tried to avoid Spencer as much as you could. And if that night from the club replayed in your head often while you were alone in your bed that night like many nights before, it was no one’s business but your own. 

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

In the morning, you woke to the sound of construction equipment being used next to your apartment. D.C’s already so dense. What more could they be building?   You thought as you got up to make yourself a much needed cup of coffee. 

Now without your schoolwork or  standing date with Spencer, Saturdays always felt too long. You drank your coffee, read a book, watched some TV and when you looked at the time it was still only noon. You sighed heavily before getting up to get changed. The weather was nice, you hoped a jog would at the very least tire you out so you could waste a couple hours napping. 

So off you went, down the path of a nearby park. You had been jogging for about 30 minutes when you see a familiar shape in the distance. As you get closer you notice it’s exactly who you wanted it to be. 

“Hey, Spen!” You say excitedly as you slow to a stop in front of him. He looks up from the book he was reading on the bench. He smiles once he sees you. “Y/N, Hey.” He says. 

“What’re you doing in the park alone?” You ask. 

He lifts up his book. “I just came to read, thought a change of scenery would do me better than sitting around my apartment.” He says 

“Same here. Now that I finished school, it feels like I have too much time in the day. Now it just feels like I’m doing stuff just to keep myself busy, hence the jogging.” You say lifting your leg slightly, pointing out the running shoes you were wearing. You felt his eyes slowly trail up your bare legs, taking in your form slowly and diligently as if he thought he would forget it all the second he blinked. His eyes finally stopped at yours and you released the breath you didn’t know you holding. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your book. I’ve still got 2 miles to go.” You say, as you start to jog away, you hear Spencer call out to you. You stop and turn back. “Yea?” you ask. 

“Umm…” He says trailing off before taking a breath. “I’m going to see a movie later, I was hoping maybe you’d wanna come? It’s in french, but I can whisper-translate for you.” He says. 

“Yea sure, I’m doing anything else.” You say, a little too excitedly. Calm down, Y/N, he didn’t even say it was a date. You think to yourself. “What time should I meet you there?” 

“7?” He says. 

“Great! See you at 7, Reid!” You say before jogging away. 

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

You leave your house around 6:45, after spending about an hour and a half trying to find something to wear. Since it wasn’t a date, or since he didn't say it was one, you opted for something casual. A pair of comfortable jean shorts and your favorite band’s t-shirt. You did light makeup, and after an inspection in the mirror you decided you looked the right amount of cute and comfortable. 

Spencer was waiting outside the theater when you arrived. He was dressed casually too, a blazer over a simple t-shirt, cuffed jeans and converse. He smiles brightly at you as you walk up to join him. 

He insists on paying for the movie and you have to fight him to get him to let you at least pay for snacks but soon you are seated in the almost empty theater together. 

He moves close to you as the movie starts, whispering translations in your ear. At some point halfway through the movie, his arm ends up around your back as he continues to translate, your hand falls instinctively to his thigh. 

The movie ends eventually, and the two of you begin to walk outside together. You know a really good ice cream place that’s not a far walk from the theatre so you suggest going Spencer instantly says yes. You guys walk in silence for a while before you open your mouth to say something. 

“Can I confess something to you?” You ask him. 

He turns and looks at you. “Yea, what is it?” 

“Je parle quatre langues, dont une est le français.” (I speak four languages, one of which is french.) You say. 

He looks at you incredulously. “Pourquoi m'avez-vous laissé traduire le film entier pour vous?” (Why did you let me translate the entire movie for you?) He asks 

“Tu veux dire, pourquoi t'ai-je laissé chuchoter à mon oreille pendant deux heures d'affil��e?” (You mean, Why did I let you whisper in my ear for two hours straight?) You smile flirtatiously at him. “Je suis sûr que tu peux comprendre celui-là.” (I'm sure you can figure that one out) You nudge him with your arm. “Come on, I believe you owe me ice cream.” 

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

You and Spencer, deciding you don’t want the night to end just yet,  take your ice cream and walk to a park. You lick lazily at the cone you opted for opposed to the cup he got. You guys seem to try and catch up on everything the two of you had done since your last coffee shop visit. He tells you about the books and Doctor’s journals he’s read. You explain to him the entire plot of the latest season of Drag race. You talk and talk and talk, to the point you don’t even realize it’s getting late. 

“It’s late.” he says, “We should head back.” 

And so you do, the two of you walk back to your cars parked near the movie theatre in semi-silence. As the two of you approach your driver door, you turn to look at each other. 

“This was fun, to hang out, I mean.” You say. 

“Yea, it was.” He adds. “I’d like to do it more, if you don’t mind.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’d love that.” you say. 

He takes a step closer to you and you do the same. This was it, he was finally going to kiss you. He looks down at your lips and up to your eyes again as if searching for the approval you give a quick tiny nod. He smiles, moving a hand to the side of your head leaning into you--

Your phone rings. He takes a step back. 

Moment ruined.   

You look at your caller ID. “It’s Hotch.” you say, he nods at you while you answer the phone “Y/L/N” you say. 

“Y/N/N, you need to meet me at the office. Right now.” He says. 

“Why sir? Is there a case?” You ask. 

“No case.” He says. “Gabriel Ferguson’s date has been set.” 

That name. 

You tried everyday to forget that name. 

The name of the man who took your family. 

Your innocence. 

Your way of life. 

Gabriel Ferguson. 

The Beechwood Killer. 

You freeze. Spencer is watching you, concerned now. “W-Why do you need me to come in for that?” You stutter. 

“Because… he’s refusing to tell us where he dumped the first bodies.” Hotch pauses. “Until he speaks to you.” 

You drop your phone. 

The last thing you hear is Spencer calling out to you while everything fades to black.

Taglist: @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black​ @baby-banana​ @drreidshands​ @blameitonthenight21​ @slyskyeey​ @liaabsurd​ @di-essere-amato​

[jawabear]

Hello! I have a writing request 🥺 for Javi (Narcos). Can Y/n be a forensic psychiatrist, so Javi's coworker, but like from a different branch in the DEA. And can they be sort of friends, but you know, with the soft fuzzy feelings of something more than friendship. Oh, and if it isn't too much, could you include prompt 110? I'd like some fluff, maybe with some angst in the beginning. I read "Flowers' and I really liked it, so maybe that kind of vibe. Thank you already and happy holidays! 🥺

One Visit (Javier Peña X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: I apologise for taking so long in writing this Anon. It was a challenge but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I managed to write something close to what you requested or at least something you can enjoy. I got a little carried away so it’s a bit longer that I originally intended. I took it that the prompt you meant was from my prompt list but I apologise if not. Thank you for requesting! It was an interesting request and I’m glad you like my other story Flowers. That’s one of my favourites. Italics represent thoughts and flashback (I hope you’re able to figure out which is which). I hope you enjoy it. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Fem!Reader, drinking, smoking, Javi struggling with his feelings, Steve being annoying, talks of death

Summary: One visit. That’s all it took for him to remember his feelings for her.

“All I’m saying, Javi, is that it wouldn’t hurt to just try dating” Steve reiterate for his friend as they walked through the halls of the DEA office on their way outside.

This was all Steve had been going on about for the past two week. Javi getting a girlfriend. It wasn’t really that Javier was against getting a girlfriend. He just didn’t think he deserved one. Nor did he think he was boyfriend material. But he really didn’t know why Steve was all of a sudden hell bent on finding him a girl.

“Is there really no in you like?”

“I really have no idea what your obsession is with finding me a date, but can you stop?” Javi sighed.

Finally they made it outside and Javi was thankful to get some fresh air after being stuck inside all day which was really the only reason they had come outside in the first place. But as they were there, they both decided to light up a cigarette.

A little while into their smoke, a car pulled up outside the DEA building drawing both agents’ attention. From out of the back of the sleek black car came a girl. She pulled a bag from the car and swung it over her shoulder. She said something to the driver and gave him a smile before closing the car door and turning towards the building.

“Holy shit” Javi whispered as he threw his cigarette to the floor and stubbed it out with his foot.

Steve noticed the way Javi’s eyes never left her as she walked over to him. She smiled and waved to him and he gave an acknowledge nod and a quick and nervous smile. “Hey Javi!” She said happily as she stopped a little distance away from the two agents.

“(Y/N)” he said, not sound as happy as she did, he sounded a little nervous or flustered. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Apparently you’re new boss wants to meet me. I don’t know why she wants to meet me when I’m not the one in charge of the department but according to my boss I’m the “best in the business” or something like that” she said using air quotes.

“As humble as ever I see” he commented making her laugh slightly. Steve stood there awkwardly as the two stared at each other. He could see what was happening even if they couldn’t.

He cleared his throat catching both Javi’s and (Y/N)’s attention. “Hi, I’m Steve Murphy. Javier’s partner” Steve introduced him self knowing that Javi wouldn’t. He held out his hand and she took it with a smile and shook it.

“(Y/N) (L/N)” She said “I’m a forensic psychiatrist for the DEA”

“Well, that a whole load of words I don’t understand” Steve joked making (Y/N) laugh cutely. Javi loved her laugh but not when it was directed at someone other than him.

“Well, I’ve got to go” she said as she removed her hand from Steve’s “it was lovely meeting you Steve. And it’s always a pleasure Javi. I’m sure I’ll see you both around but I really should get going”

“Y-Yeah, bye (Y/N)” Javi smiled softly to her as she walked past them and into the building.

Javi glance at Steve who was smirking at him “what the hell are you looking at me like that for?” He asked angrily.

“No reason” Steve said throwing his smoke to the floor and patting Javier’s shoulder. “No reason at all” he said before walking back inside. Javier let out a heavy sigh and rubbed over his face.

“Of all the fucking people” he mumbled as he looked up. He wasn’t really talking to anyone, unless there was a god up there who was listening and who hated him. He shook his head and followed his partner back inside.

The two agents sat back at their desks, Javi was reading through some files while Steve sat there. Watching and calculating. It was blindingly obvious what was happening and Steve simply found it funny that Javier was either an idiot or ignoring it.

“So it’s (Y/N) then?” Steve said finally after watching his friend for about ten minuets. He was trying his hardest but failing to contain his smirk.

“What?” Javi was trying to ignore him by distracting himself with papers but the mention of (Y/N)’s name always made him listen.

“It’s (Y/N)” Steve said again “it’s her who you like”

“Are you really still on this?” Javier sighed as he lit up a cigarette.

“Well, I’m just saying that she is a very beautiful girl and you two seemed to get on pretty well. Maybe you should ask her out” Steve suggested.

“I’m not a kid, Murphy. And besides, she wouldn’t go out with me anyway” he mumbled the last part but Steve caught it loud and clear.

“Is she single?” He asked.

Javier was losing his patience a little with his partner “as far as I’m aware. Yes, she is single” he answered. Javi could already guess the next words that would come out of his partner’s mouth and he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m not discussing this with you anymore” he said sternly “stop fucking about and actually do something” Steve just made a noise before standing and leaving, probably to go get a coffee.

Javi sighed again and held his head in his hands. He was getting stressed out because Steve was right. Of course he was right. Javi did like (Y/N). He had since the moment they met. But what’s not to like? She smart, funny, caring and so beautiful. It was a wonder to him that she hadn’t got a boyfriend yet. Any guy would be lucky to have her. He just wanted to be that guy.

What the hell is wrong with me? He though angrily as he ran his hands through his hair. Pull yourself together Javier. It’s not going to happen.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was sat in Messina’s office listening to her ramble on about how things work now she’s in charge and whatnot. But (Y/N) wasn’t really listening to what she was saying. She was too distracted in her own thoughts.

Anyone who worked for the DEA knew about Javier Peña’s reputation. Everyone knew he was the asshole. Everyone knew his way of getting information. And for someone with the right mind, that would be enough to put them off him. But not (Y/N). Oh no.

Perhaps it was just her analytical nature that came with her job role that drew her to the dashing DEA agent. She saw a man who was clearly struggling. A man who was hiding himself from something or someone. Probably himself. She saw someone who by all accounts had dropped most their morals for the sake of a job. But she knew that beyond all that, beneath that cold exterior, was a kind and gentle man who simply wanted to be loved. She knew this because she had seen it.

It was a few months after they had first met. She was still pretty new to Columbia and she hadn’t really made many friends outside the people she worked with closely. Javier was the only other familiar face she knew. They both found themselves at the same bar at the same time, unintentionally of course.

(Y/N) didn’t know whether to approach him but he looked a little run down and she though she could maybe help with whatever was troubling him. She drew in a deep breath and walked over to him taking the empty stool beside him.

“(Y/N)?” He said a little confused to see her in a place such at this. She didn’t at all strike him as a drinker. She was a good girl who always played by the rules and never drank. So he though.

And he was right. She just ordered a glass of water.

“You don’t mind if I sit with you, Javier?” She asked shyly.

“No, of course not” he flashed her a brief smile before downing the rest of his drink, which she guessed to be a whiskey, before he held up his glass gesturing for a refill. “What brings you here?” He asked her as he swirled his freshly poured drink in his glass.

“I um...well I don’t really get out much. Or I didn’t at least when I lived in the states. Believe it or not I’m not a very “out going” person. So I thought that maybe I would try and be different down here, you know, new life and all” she laughed meekly as she circled the rim of her glass “a-and I just needed to clear my head from today...”

“Tough day?” Javi asked, his voice held a caring tone that made her feel warm inside, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was still more interested in his drink.

“The people down here are a lot more...intense than back in the states. I’m not really used to what I’m being given...”

“Well, you must be good at what you do. Other wise they wouldn’t have spent all that money flying you out here to work” he said “don’t worry though (Y/N),” the sweet caring tone of his voice had gone and changed into one of sarcasm “you’ll get used to it and you’ll become the same as everyone else who works in this shithole” he held up his drink and studied it for a brief moment before taking a massive swig “drinking away all your problems...” he mumbled to himself.

“I-Is that what you do?” (Y/N) asked quietly, not wanting to over step any boundaries. After all, they still didn’t really know each other. “You just drink away your problems”

“Yep” he spoke lowly but a hint of humour to his singular word.

“That’s-That’s not a great habit to get into Javier” she said “that’s pretty dangerous”

“Are you trying to get all psychologist on me?” He laughed.

“Psychiatrist” she correct “and no. Not really. But...maybe instead of just drinking, you could talk to someone about what’s going on with you. It might be better, and cheaper”

“(Y/N),” he said flatly as he put his drink on the bar and turned to face her “I haven’t spoken to anyone about my problems since my mother died when I was ten. If anyone cared about my problems, then I wouldn’t have any. But because no one does, I’m stuck with them”

“I care” she said quietly “and not just because it’s kind of my job to care about people but because...out of everyone I’ve met so far in my time being here, you’ve been the nicest to me. And I want to return the favour. So...if you wanted to talk, I’m here to listen even if you don’t want me to help you”

Javier frowned at her words. It wasn’t like a frustrated or fed up frown. It was more of a...sad frown. He swallowed his drink in one go, which was clearly a mistake on his part judging by the sharp hiss he let out from the burn of the drink. He rubbed his forehead as he set his now empty glass down but made no move to ask for another one.

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

The rest of the night they talked and they talked. Somehow, she managed to get him to open up to her. Not completely. She could tell that there were things he was not willing to share with her, at least not yet. But she saw a side of him that no one ever had. A warmer side. A more...vulnerable side.

Javi told her about his close relationship to his mother and how heart broken he was when she died. That was something he had never told anyone. He never spoke of his family, and certainly not his mother. But it seemed after that, he just kept going. He said how much he missed her and how much he needed her.

She didn’t tell him this because she didn’t quite know how to word it without making things seem worse. But in her head she came to the conclusion that his behaviour towards women was most likely a result of not having that female connection in his life. He didn’t have a loving mother or woman in his life like most people might, and the way he described their bond, clearly it had taken a serious toll on his life. But she wasn’t exactly surprised. The death of anyone in someone’s life can cause problems and pain. Especially a family member.

“Does that all sound doable to you?” Messina’s voice cut through her thoughts bringing her back to reality.

“O-Oh...y-yes. Yes” (Y/N) stuttered as she shifted in her seat to look a little more professional. “No actually. My apologies but I...”

“Wasn’t listening?” Messina said with a slight smile “I appreciate your honesty. It’s more then what I get here. All I was saying was that things are going to be run a bit differently from your end. Your work will stay the same but the work load may be different. Less. These people are dangerous and by the way these missions and raids have been going, it’s far more likely that the offenders you are meant to treat end up six feet under”

“Right...” (Y/N) said quietly with a nod.

“And also, if your up for it, I would like you to come down every so often and maybe check up on some of our own agents here”

“That’s not really what my job is” (Y/N) laughed nervously. She didn’t like telling people no but she wasn’t exactly cut out for the role of councillor to DEA agents.

“I know” Messina nodded “but your boss said you were the one must cut out to do it. It wouldn’t be something that you change from your current position to. Just, every so often coming down here and just talking to the agents. I think you can agree that with things happening in the world right now, everyone could use someone to talk too”

(Y/N) nodded but was still a little on the fence about the whole idea. Technically, it wasn’t too big an ask. She was technically qualified to do it, and it was technically what she was already doing. But what she was doing now was a little more advanced and intense then talking to agents about what they have seen in the field.

But she supposed it wasn’t too different to what she had done with Javi.

“But saying that, they probably wouldn’t even except the help. They prefer to bottle up their emotions and take it out on something or someone else” (Y/N) had a strong suspicion that she was referring to Javi, unless that was just something that all DEA agents did. “Especially agent Peña” There it was.

“Agent Peña” (Y/N) repeated quietly.

“He’s one of our agents focusing on the Escobar case, along with his partner-“

“Steve Murphy. Yes. I met him this morning. Me and Javier already know each other”

“Right” Messina said “well, you go careful with him” (Y/N) didn’t really know what she meant by that but she didn’t have time to question it before Messina stood and held her hand out to (Y/N) “I appreciate you coming out here”

(Y/N) stood too and shook her hand “thank you for having me. It was a pleasure”

“The pleasure was all mine. Let me show you out” just then the phone rang and (Y/N) waved off the offer.

“I know the way” she smiled soft before leaving the office and letting out a deep breath when the door had closed.

“Dude,” Steve said as he leaned over his desk to get Javi’s attention “heads up”

Javi turned and saw (Y/N). He wasn’t quite in control of his body as he ran over to her, offering to show her the way out of the base.

“So how was it?” He asked her.

“It was okay. I don’t really know what I was expecting. I wasn’t really told much about why I was coming here other than the fact she wanted to meet me”

“What did you talk about?”

“Not much. She just filled me in on who she was, her background and all that. And our role in helping the DEA. And...my role in the DEA”

“She didn’t fire you did she?” Javi said quickly.

“No!” She laughed “no, she didn’t fire me. I don’t think she has the power to fire me herself” Javi felt a little bit embarrassed after that “she sort of offered me a new job? I’m not really sure what she is planning though. She wants me to come here every so often to check on you DEA agents. You know, talk to you, make sure you’re okay”

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone else being the one for that role” they reach the outside of the base and came to a stop at the top of the steps. “So...where are you going now?”

“Technically it’s my day off so, home I guess”

“Right” he nodded “I’d give you a ride...but the boss said we’re not allowed off base”

“Following the rules? That’s not like you Javier” she chuckled. “It’s fine though. My ride should be here any second now anyway” as if on cue, the same sleek black car from earlier pulled into the gates “see”

“Y-Yeah” Javi said quietly.

“Well I um...I better go. But it was nice seeing you again Javi, even if it wasn’t for very long”

“Yeah. It was nice. Great. Great to see you again..”

“I’ll um..see you some when” she said as she began walked down the steps towards the car. He just waved as she got to the car and got in.

“Fuck” he swore under his breath watching as the car drove off “fuck”

Time seemed to drag on from that point until it was time to close up shop. The base was near empty aside from Javi, Steve and a few other officers who tended to always flitter around.

Steve let out a groan as he stretched his arms above his head “well,” he began “that’s me done” he dropped his arms and stood grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and his gun from his desk drawer. “You staying on?”

“Uh...yeah. I’m just gonna...finish up some stuff” Javi said taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ain’t got a hot date tonight then, huh?” Steve teased.

“No, I do not” Javi mumbled.

“That’s a real shame, man” Steve tutted as he adjusted his jacket.

“Why do you care so much about it anyway?” Javi asked.

“‘Cause you deserve someone Javi. You should’ve asked (Y/N) out. I’m sure she would’ve said yes” Javi didn’t respond, he just continued typing away at the typewriter. “Well, night Javi”

“Yeah” Javier grumbled as his partner left.

It was painfully quiet in the base. There were other officers still lingering about but none that Javi really knew. So really, he was alone.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray on his desk and leant back in his chair, running his hands over his face and groaning to himself. He dropped his hands and cast his gaze to the phone sitting on his desk.

Her phone number was basically engraved in his heart. He knew it better then he did his own number. Steve’s words played over and over in his head. Maybe he should ask her out.

But the phone just sat there. Mocking him. Laughing at him for being such a cowards. For being too afraid to ask the girl he liked out on a date. Or at least for a drink so he could see her again.

Javi sat forwards and pulled himself closer to his desk. He grabbed the phone but before he could even dial a number he slammed it back down again.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He said to himself. He was getting annoyed at himself now. But he was still annoyed at Steve for bringing it up so much recently. Just pick up the phone and call her.

So he did. It all happened so quickly but he suddenly found himself with the phone to his ear ringing. He just hoped she answered.

The phone rang and rang and he began to think she wouldn’t answer. He was about to put the phone down but then her voice came through the other line.

“Hello?” She said.

“(Y/N)? It’s Javi” he tried to calm his voice, hopefully the quality of the phone wasn’t clear enough for her to hear his nervous tone.

“Hey Javi. What’s up?” She asked sweetly making his heart pound and palms sweat.

“Oh...uh nothing. I just um...are you busy?” He asked.

“Uh..well I was just about to get ready for bed but-“

He didn’t let her finish before speaking again “you’re busy, don’t worry about it”

“No no!” She said quickly “I’m not. What’s wrong?”

He paused and swapped the phone to his other ear, his leg bouncing nervously as he worked up the courage to ask her out for a drink “would you...like to go get a drink...with me?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared himself for the cold hard rejection. But that wasn’t what he got “I’d love to” she said filling him with relief. He let out an audible sigh of relief that he hoped she didn’t hear.

“Great. I’ll um...meet you at the bar in say..” he looked at his watch “twenty minutes?”

“Sure thing, Javi” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice that made him smile too. “I’ll see you then”

“Yeah. See you then” he hung up the phone and fell back against his chair. He sat there for a moment just trying to comprehend what had just happened before he stood up and grabbed his jacket. He didn’t bother to tidy his desk before he was out the door and in his car driving towards the bar where he would meet her.

The bar was pretty quiet when he got there, which was strange considering the time. But he wasn’t complaining. He took at seat at the bar and ordered his usual drink, a whiskey. He sat there sipping his drink as he waited, the amber liquid calming his nerves.

“Javi,” came a voice from beside him. He tuned and saw (Y/N) taking the seat next to him. “Sorry I’m late” she said before ordering a glass of water.

It took him back to that day.

“I was early” he told her.

“So why did you ask me out here?” She asked as she took a sip of her drink “not that it’s a problem!” She was quick to add worried she had offended him in some way.

“I Uh, it was nice to see you again today and I just...wanted to see you again” he said quietly. She smiled at him and let out a happy noise as she took another sip of her drink.

He looked at her for a moment. There was something different about her from earlier. She looked at him confused but laughed nervously at his gaze “what?” She asked.

“Are you wearing lipstick?” He asked noticing how her lips were a more bold shade of red than usual. In all the time he had known her, he hadn’t ever seen her wear any kind of make up. But she didn’t need it. She was beautiful the way she was. If anything the lipstick was just...wrong. But not it a bad way, he just wasn’t used to seeing it on her.

“O-Oh. You noticed that” she looked away from him staring into her glass. She pulled a piece of hair from behind her ear to cover the side of her face so he wouldn’t see her. She felt like a complete fool.

He shifted closer to her, the stool he was sat on scraped against the floor as he did. Javi reached out and tucked the hair back behind her ear “it looks nice” he said making her looked back at him, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink at the soft touch “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear make up before”

“That’s becuase I haven’t. But it was something my cousin bought me as a joke for my birthday last year. She said it would help with all the guys I would get with and kiss”

“Has it worked?”

“No” she laughed “so far I haven’t been with or kissed a single person whilst I’ve been down here”

“Well, you may still find some use for it” he said.

A slightly awkward silence fell over the two of them as the sipped at their drinks, Javi finished first but didn’t ask for a second one. He turned back to look at her watching as she rubbed the now empty glass with her thumb.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He asked her suddenly.

“A drive?” She asked “where to?”

Javi shrugged as he pulled out his wallet “I don’t know. Just a drive” he said pulling out some cash and throwing it on the bar before hopping off his stool.

“Okay?” She said hesitantly as she got off her own stool and followed him out of the bar to his car.

The drive to begin with was pretty quiet as she stared out the window trying to figure out where he was taking her. He did have a spot in mind but he didn’t want to spoil it for her.

“You’re not taking me somewhere to murder me, are you?” She joked “we seem to be getting away from the city a little bit” she noticed he was driving her to a more remote area rather than the open city. And it was slightly up a mountain too.

“No” he laughed “why would I ever want to murder you?”

She shrugged “I don’t know. Sometimes you don’t need a reason to murder someone”

“Well, I’m not bringing you somewhere to kill you (Y/N)”

“That’s what all murderers say!” She pointed out. He just laughed and pulled onto a patch of grass of the overlook he had brought them to. He brought the car to a stop and she examined the location “yep, definitely a murder spot”

“Jesus (Y/N)” he laughed.

“I don’t think he’s going to be much help” she said. “What is this place, Javi?”

“Come on” he said as he took off his seatbelt and got out the car. She followed suit and stood next to him as he leant against the front of his car.

“Oh my god” she gasped. She was in awe of the way the city looked from up there. The sky was completely clear of clouds as was full of beautiful silver stars. The lights from the houses were stars in their own right, but golden ones. She was pretty much lost for words at the sight.

“I know” Javi said “when you’re up here, looking down on this place, it’s hard to believe there’s a drug war going on”

“It’s a shame that a country as beautiful as this one won’t ever be known for...this” she said quietly “how did you find this place?”

“I don’t really know” he said “you get to a point where you just need to keep on going. And that’s what I did. I just kept driving and I ran out of fuel right here. But I’ve been coming back here ever since. It just...a nice place to be”

“It is very nice” she smiled to him. The conversation stopped for a moment as they both just enjoyed the sight. Enjoying how peacefully quite it was. And how fresh it was too.

“How many girls have you brought up here?” She asked his quietly.

“Out of everyone I’ve brought up here, you’re my favourite” he said “but that’s mainly down to the fact I’ve never brought anyone else up here other than myself”

“Well, I’m honoured to be the first” she said “thank you for bringing me up here Javi”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to share it with someone...” he mumbled the last part but she still heard him.

(Y/N) just looked at him the same way he had looked at her earlier in the bar. She was trying to figure something out. He looked at her giving her the same nervous look she had, “what?” He said.

“Just something Messina said”

“Oh god, what did she say? That I’m a shit agent?”

“That I should be careful with you”

Javi didn’t speak right away, he shifted his stance and looked down “Yeah, I guess she had a point” he muttered “I’ve really made a name for myself. It’s no surprise that half the fucking DEA thinks I’m an asshole, the other half just have no idea who I am in general”

“I think she was wrong” (Y/N) said “I think they are all wrong about you Javier. You’re not an asshole Javi, at least not all the time. You’re just like every other person. And I think everyone is wrong to think so badly of you. Because you’re not a bad person”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to say that. You can tell me the truth. I get that it’s you’re job to make people feel good about themselves and shit like that but you don’t have to do that with me”

“I am telling you the truth” her voice was quiet and made him look at her, meeting her beautiful eyes with his “and my job isn’t just about making people feel good about themselves and shit like that, it’s about making people believe that they are good. It’s about helping people...and I...I want to help you”

“Why do you want to help me, (Y/N)?”

“Because I...” she stopped herself for a moment and looked at him, his eyes baring down on her as he awaited her answer.

“You what?” He pressed softly. He had turned his body to face her completely, standing incredibly close to her. “You what, (Y/N)?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he smashed his lips against hers. She felt her knees go weak at the sudden contact. She brought her hands up to grip his arms to hold her self steady as she returned the kiss. Javier slipped his arms around her waist pulling her towards him slightly. With his arms supporting her, she moved her hand up to thread her fingers through his soft hair.

“Because I love you” she whispered when he pulled back from her lips “and I believe you are worth helping, and I want you to see yourself as I see you”

“And how do you see me (Y/N)?” He asked in a low voice as he gently rubbed his nose against hers making her heart flutter as she stroked the back of his head with her thumbs.

“Someone who just wants to be loved” she admitted to him.

“Only if I’m loved by you” he whispered before kissing her again, deeper this time and not so hard. His arms wrapped more firmly around her, drawing her as close to him as possible without hurting her.

“Oh you are Javi” she whispered against his lips “you are”

2/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

[purple-dahlias]

“What’s the point?” for recovering!au?

thank you for the request! sorry this has taken such a long time to get out,  but it’s here now! 

trigger warning for eating disorders, relapse and hospitals  

“You heading for the OR?” Connor asks, falling into step beside Ava as they exit the lifts together.

“Yep,” confirms Ava. “Got another CABG scheduled. Been almost practically back to back all afternoon. How about you?”

“Surprisingly, I’m free now. Patient cancellation.”

“Lucky you,” Ava grins as her phone pings in her pocket.

Taking it out, her eyes scan the notification, smile dying on her lips.

“Ava?” Connor asks, concern filling his voice as he eyes the expression on Ava’s face.

“It’s Sarah,” she manages, the words heavy in her mouth. “She collapsed in the ED.”

“Again?” Connor remembers the last time this happened, a little over four months ago.

Ava nods, knowing exactly what Connor is thinking. “I have to go,” she says finally. “Could you—“

Connor doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“Go,” he says, placing a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll take your surgery.”

“Thank you,” Ava whispers, gratitude in her eyes as Connor waves her thanks away, nudging her gently back in the direction of the lifts.

“Let me know how she’s doing, yeah?” She hears him call as she steps into the lift, anxiety filling every inch of her.

The last three or so weeks had been insanely busy, for both Ava and Sarah, what with the way their shifts had worked out. It had meant in the end the two had always ended up missing each other, with one leaving as the other arrived, or one returning when the other was preparing to go. And with that, there had been little communication, other than perhaps a passing hello in the corridor, a kiss goodbye, or a hug before having to get out of bed at some ungodly hour. So having this knowledge, and with what she had just learnt, Ava knew this was a red flag. She knows almost exactly why Sarah had collapsed, and it’s hard for her not to blame herself.

Maybe, she thinks, if she had made more of an effort to ask, had paid more attention, had passed over some of her surgeries or post-ops to Connor, anything so that she could have been there more, she might have seen the signs.

She hopes, oh how she hopes she is wrong, and that this is completely unrelated, and that she is blowing this out of proportion, that there is some other, alternative reason.

But she just can’t shake the sick feeling that pools in her stomach as she exits the lifts beyond the Emergency Department.

She’s wracking her brain, trying to think of any rhyme or reason why this could have happened, if indeed it is what she thinks it is: the thought she just can’t seem to rid her mind of, the one that she keeps coming back to.

“Where is she, Maggie?” Ava asks, on seeing the charge nurse.

“Treatment four,” she hears, and doesn’t stick around for any more, heading straight there, heart beating at what she knows is well beyond the normal rate.

Ava pulls back the curtain to find April adjusting an IV line, while Natalie scrolls through what must be Sarah’s test results on her iPad, concern written across her face.

But her eyes fall on Sarah, lying there, looking so small and frail in her hospital gown.

“What happened?” Ava demands, and April leads her outside, just beyond the curtain, with Natalie following.

“Natalie called her down for a consult. Things were okay until she collapsed right there in front of the patient. Scared us all half to death,” April informs her softly.

“You might want to see these,” Natalie says, and Ava doesn’t miss the sadness in her tone as Natalie hands her the tablet.

It’s just what she had thought they would show, and Ava shakes her head, blinking back tears as she sees how much damage had been done, how much progress had been reversed in just 3 short weeks.

“According to her charts it looks like she’s missed her last two appointments with Dr Richardson. Did you know things were bad with her?” Natalie asks, a hand to Ava’s shoulder, and Ava feels like the worst person in the world.

“No,” she hears herself say, though it doesn’t sound at all like her voice.

This is all your fault. If you had paid more attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Ava,” she hears Natalie, noting how the doctor had switched to the voice she often heard her use with paediatric patients. “None of this is your fault.”

It’s as though she can read her mind.

“But it is. Sarah is supposed to be my responsibility,” Ava hates the way her voice sounds, broken, as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Some things you can’t control,” April says beside her. Ava knows she means well, but it’s all just wrong and backwards. Because for Sarah, this was all about control. Ironic, really.

“For now,” Natalie begins, that coaxing voice back, “you should just be with her.”

Ava just nods, letting the curtain fall behind her as April and Natalie take their leave.

She takes a shuddering breath and drags the stool to Sarah’s bedside, where she sits, taking hold of the thin, limp hand of her girlfriend.

“Ava?” Comes a voice, weak beside her, and Ava swears that if she wasn’t a cardiothoracic surgeon, she would have thought her heart had stopped.

“I’m right here, Sarah,” Ava tells her, squeezing her hand gently.

“Where am I?” Sarah asks, a little groggily.

“In the ED. April said you fainted.”

“Oh,” returns Sarah, her voice small, panic filling her face as she notices the IV line in her hand.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Ava croons, taking hold of both Sarah’s hands when she sees how distressed she is. “It’s just some fluids to help give you your strength back. You need them, okay bokkie,” Ava continues, using the pet name.

“No, I don’t! What’s the point?” Sarah cries out, every word punctuated with an agony that pierces Ava’s very soul.

“Nothing I do will work and I’m just so tired. I’m a psychiatrist. I know this is bad! I shouldn’t be having this problem. Ava you know I try, but…” Sarah trails off, and Ava can’t help but notice the way Sarah runs a finger over her clavicle, a subconscious habit she had.

“Sarah, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you,” Ava begins after a pause. “But—“

“Then don’t,” Sarah grits out, harshly, cutting Ava off. “Please, Ava, just go,” Sarah practically begs, bunching up the thin bed sheets and turning to face away from her.

Ava sits there, a few moments longer, until it becomes clear that this won’t be going anywhere, that Sarah isn’t ready to talk.

Twisting her hands, she lets out a sigh she hopes is mostly silent.

“Okay,” she says, willing the heaviness in her voice not to be too pronounced. Ava stands and moves to adjust Sarah’s pillow just how she likes it, the only way she can think of right now to give Sarah a little more comfort. “But Sarah,” Ava gently tells her, “I’m here for you, okay. No matter what. Please know that.”

There’s no response. Not even a shift in the bedsheets. And if the machine monitoring Sarah’s vitals wasn’t still beeping quietly in the background, well, Ava doesn’t want to give much rise to that particular thought.

With a final kiss to the top of Sarah’s head, a last attempt to let her know she is here, Ava turns to leave, drawing the curtains back around Sarah.

“Well?” Natalie asks her from her position at the nursing station, breaking away from a conversation with Maggie.

Ava just shakes her head. She doesn’t know quite what to say. What does one say? Besides, Ava really doesn’t wan to have to talk right now. With anyone. All she can think about is how much she had let Sarah down. How she should have been paying attention. And now she couldn’t even get Sarah to talk, much less get to the bottom of what triggered this.

-

It’s windy up on the balcony, and the evening is drawing in as Ava stares out onto the city of Chicago, a hundred thousand lights twinkling below. There’s still no more word from Sarah herself. Only that Ava can gather loud and clear she wants to be left alone. Which is especially hard to know.

“Hey,” a voice says beside her, making Ava jump. The fact she didn’t even hear him coming is a telltale sign something is wrong. Ava normally never misses anything.

“Your CABG went off without a hitch,” he begins lightly, trying to gauge Ava’s mood.

“Wish I could say the same about other things,” Ava deadpans, staring off into the distance, her focus on nothing in particular.

“How’s Sarah?” Connor frowns, leaning against the railing.

“Nat messaged to say she’s being transferred up to a bed to stay overnight for observation. She still doesn’t want to see me.” It comes out a little cold, detached. And honestly, Ava’s just feeling more than a little numb right now, so that assessment it’s about right.

“She’ll come ‘round,” Connor assures, putting an arm around Ava, who leans into him.

“Ooh my ears are burning,” comes a familiar voice from behind.

“Oh, hey Nat,” Ava manages a weak, sort of washed-out smile.

“How are you holding up?”

How was she? How did one answer that? How was someone dealing with all of this supposed to be?

Connor’s phone buzzes, breaking the silence.

“It’s Latham,” he says, checking.

“You’d better go,” Ava tells him, grateful for the diversion.

“It’s gonna be okay, Aves. You’re gonna get through this. You both are.”

“Thanks,” Ava sniffs as Connor pulls her into a tight hug, wanting desperately to believe his every word.

And then he’s gone.

“How’s Sarah,” Ava asks, eyes trained on the spot Connor had just vacated. She’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Pretty much the same. I’ve paged Dr Charles though. I hope you don’t mind?”

Ava shakes her head sadly. “Maybe he’ll have better luck than me.”

“Oh, Ava,” Natalie hums, holding her close, up there on the balcony. She doesn’t even care that Nat is probably using some of the tactics she uses on kids down in the ED. Because all Ava wants to do is believe things will be okay.

“How about I drive you back to yours so we can grab some things for Sarah?” Natalie suggests, filling the silence, smoothing Ava’s hair.

Ava agrees with a small nod. That seems like a logical suggestion. And in any case, she’s not sure she should be driving herself anywhere right now.

“Great,” Natalie says softly, her arms still safely around Ava. “And Ava, I promise you: everything will work out. It may not seem like it right now, but it will.”

There’s a fierceness in her voice, and Ava just clings to her. She wants to believe her. Wants it to be true with her whole heart. Because it has to be.

[mae-gi-writes]

And You Should Live | Changmin/Q [Part Two]

Athlete Changmin au! In which you and Changmin teach each other how to live again.

Genre: angst, tearjerker, fluff

Part One | Part Two

--

The few months that the ex-athlete spends confined in hospital are definitely some of the most challenging weeks you've had by far. It takes patience and acceptance of his new body, of the way that he is now going to live his life, and it's easier said than done. A psychiatrist checks up on him every week but his complaints are verbal and abusive, not one to hide his discontentment. There is no sign of his father, though his mother drops in once a week at most to bring some spare clothes and wheedle a few responses out of him, in vain.

He cries the first time he sees himself in the mirror, hair all dishevelled, stubble forming over his chin, skin all grey and pale from months of no sunshine. And you stand behind him that day, heart breaking in tine with his as the pained sobs falling from his mouth bounced throughout the room. He cries without relent this time as your hands tighten their grip on the handles of his wheelchair, helpless to his pain and desperate to somehow make it right in any way possible.

The next day, you bustle in with a comb, some shaving cream and a pair of scissors. 

“No,” is Changmin’s reaction, as with everything you’ve once introduced to him. You’re now used to his reticence and instead shove his hands away from you, a measley attempt to stop your advances. Instead, you threaten to attach his arms at his sides if he doesn’t cooperate and with a few more grumbles under his breath, he settles back against his pillow like a sulky child. 

“I can’t believe this,” he mumbles through closed lips as you dabble some shaving cream over his face. Mind you, you’ve definitely never done this on a man before and so you dip your head closer to his face, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you focus on spreading the cream evenly across his jawline.

"I swear, Y/N, if you cut me--”

“Oh shush,” you wave his protests away before drawing out the razor you’ve slipped into your pocket. Then, you gingerly lean down once more to slowly slide the device at the edge of his jaw. 

Feeling his orbs on your face, you can’t help but spare him a quick glance only for your eyes. They’re dark maroon, so dark you can barely make out his pupils from his irises, and they reflect an intensity that somehow makes your insides squirm and your heart to speed up--

“Ouch!” he cries out and you jump back in surprise, eyes flying wide open with panic, “fuck! Did I hurt you?!” You dab at his skin in search of a cut, “shit, I’m so sorry--”

Changmin’s giggle bursts through his mouth and it takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s only pulling your leg. Your hands drop to your sides in growing annoyance, “you!--”

“Sorry, it was all too obvious that you’ve never did this before,” Changmin’s eyes crinkle up into crescents. It might be the first time you’ve seen him laugh with such purity, and you can’t help but stare at the dimple forming on his cheeks, at the way his whole face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And then, you blink and let out an exasperated sigh before you shove his shoulder, “you’re such a dick,” you mutter as you resume shaving him. 

“Sorry,” he keeps on giggling, “you should’ve seen your face.”

"Keep that up and I’ll make sure you have no hair left on your scalp.”

You decide to move on to his hair a few days later just as he is being wheeled back in by the said psychiatrist. You bow to him, cheeks involuntarily rising when his gaze meets yours, a tender smile dancing across his lips.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Y/N,” he says.

“You’re the one who’s always busy, Sangyeon,” you grin back.

“Ah yeah. Especially during exams season. A lot of students drop by,” Sangyeon nods at Changmin, “well, I’ve leave you two to it then. Maybe we can catch up over coffee sometime Y/N.” 

“That’d be great!” 

You don’t realize that you’ve still got a stupid smile on your face until Changmin lets out a snort, “you look ridiculous.” 

Scowling back at him, you lift the scissors up threateningly, “keep talking and I will make you bald, Changmin.” 

" You like him? He's such a dork," Changmin continues without relent as you wheel him to the washroom, " And you know what? He smells really bad if he doesn't wear perfume."

"And how would you, of all people, know that?" your fingers comb back his hair to tie it up into sections, eyes clashing with his in the bathroom mirror.

"Because I smelt him once when he came from the gym."

" That's just how humans work," you retort with a Scoff," also, I don't think you should be the one to talk, considering you were an athlete."

"That's different! I was training!"

" You're not denying the fact that you smell bad too though, without deodorant."

"Oh yeah?" He sniffs, "well I ain't got any deodorant now. Smell me, go on."

His statement is so outrageously crazy that you burst out laughing and soon enough he joins in so that you giggle like two schoolchildren sharing mischievous secrets. Ruffling your fingers through his hair and combing it through with water, your fingers proceed to measure how much hair to chip off.

" can I trust you with that?" doubt coats Changmin's voice.

You scoff in return as a large clump cascades down his shoulders and makes him yelp, " Don't worry, I won't murder you. If that's what you were thinking about."

" Well I can't help but think about that now."

The blossoming friendship is inevitable. After all, you were almost the same age and had fallen into a complicity, having spent so much time together. So much so tha the man would outrightly refuse anyone else's help albeit the fact that you had only told him good things about your colleagues.

When his discharge came around - a little too soon for your liking if you were being honest with yourself- he'd requested for your presence on the evening before his departure, where you had brought along some cookies that your little brother had made the night before.

"I can't eat that," Changmin crinkles his nose, acting exactly like one of those pompous arrogant kids that had more money in their wallet than they had brains.

You push it towards him nevertheless, "just try it."

" I told you, I can't eat that."

" Why not?"

"Because-" his words die halfway through his throat in realization and it dawns on you that it's probably something to do with his previous diet.

But you don't have time to find a proper response before his hand snatches one cookie up and shoves it in his mouth, head turned away to avoid your concerned gaze.

" It's good," is his response after a beat of silence, and you smile.

"So what do you plan on doing when you get home?" you lean your head onto your palm, a soft yawn falling from your mouth.

" Haven't figured that out yet. Probably lie around feeling sorry for myself," he shrugs nonchalantly, but you know it's far from that, " smoke up. I never got the chance to try. Might as well start now."

You find yourself rolling your eyes at him. Then, out of the blue, he suddenly catches you off guard.

" You always ask me about myself. But now that I think about it," he tilts his head sideway. curious," I don't know much about you. Actually, I don't know you at all."

That's it. That's the moment your heart constricts and your throat closes up so that you choke on air. You don't look at him, quickly finding interest in the mold growing at the corner of the room while you mutter out that there is nothing to tell.

You know he's not dumb enough to fall for your lie, because he repeats the question, a glowing glint of curiosity in his eye.

So you tell him. In the simplest words possible, you tell him. About how normal you are, really normal. About your average grades, your small group of friends, your family of five that you cherish with all your heart. And about the scars that line up your thighs like a row of soldiers, the time where you had almost given your life away due to the unexplainable sadness consuming you from the inside.

When you're done you can barely look at him. Your hands find comfort in the folds of your white nurse pants and suddenly you can feel the scars glowing with heat, searing hot against your now sweaty palms.

It's still as fragile as ice to be talking about this memory in particular, and you're not even sure why you've suddenly divulged it all to the man sitting before you.

"That explains a lot."

Your eyes flutter up to his, surprised at his statement.

His gaze is strong as he holds yours, " about the way you care about people... about me."

" I know what it's like," comes your mumble," to suffer in silence."

A comfortable silence fills the gap in the room and despite the chilly coldness of the walls, your cheeks feel warm, entire body suddenly bathed in heat as a result of Changmin's subtle compliment.

Which is why you almost yelp when heat engulfs your hand. Blinking down just in time to feel Changmin's fingers give yours a gentle squeeze, your heart suddenly grows twice-fold through your chest.

" Thank you," you look up at him as he murmurs and you swore his face has never seemed so gentle.

"You don't -" your throat runs dry, " there's no need to thank me. It's not something to be thankful for."

"Oh don't go all poetic on me," Changmin rolls his eyes though his hand, you notice, makes no move to retract.

Not that you mind.

" You'll still visit," you chew on the inside of your cheek as gently, Oh so gently, his thumb starts a slow brush against your knuckles, "right?"

His orbs crinkle into a soft smile when you peek at his face, " Missing me already? Y/N, you used to hate my guts."

You mutter that you still do, which earns you a playful shove before another round of laughter ensues. And then he’s pulling you into his chest in a hug that leaves your insides tingling and your body suddenly erupting as if a troop of butterflies have decided to make their way from the top of your head down to the tip of your toes. And though you know that tomorrow will never be the same, you try to hold on to the warmth blossoming over your heart and the delicious fuzzy scramble inside your stomach that makes smiling a little easier.

He tucks your head underneath his chin, hands coming up to stroke your back in comforting circles. It’s a friendly hug, no doubt, one that is as innocent as the baby born a few seconds ago in the adjacent room. Yet, you wonder whether Changmin can hear how fast, how hard your heart is beating at this very instant.

You pull back slowly after a moment while averting your gaze, your hands still entangled together like a flurry of mixed-up jigsaw puzzles that somehow fit so right. 

"Here," taking your hand in his before motioning towards the pen attached to his medical clipboard, you watch as he scribbles a bunch of numbers," Now you have my number. So you have no excuse."

"Is that a threat?" you can't help but smile.

He grins back, dimple showing, " if that's what it takes to make you talk to me."

-♡-

Your shifts at the hospital without Changmin are void and empty now that he's gone. The first time you walk in to see an unfamiliar face in the space that Changmin was supposed to be, something almost akin to pain twists inside your chest and you swivel around almost instantly, excusing yourself as bile crawls up your throat.

It's normal, this is what hospital life is about. You constantly meet people, bond with them, only to have them walk out the door as abruptly as they had come.

And yet, there's a sense of haunted expectation that follows you around Wherever you go, as if you're bound to eventually bump into the said man at any moment. Sometimes, you catch yourself getting glimpses of his face amongst the crowd. One might have his nose, or the same undercut he sports ( the result of yours truly 's doing) or even the same tonal inflection that gathers your hopes up, only for it to deflate once you realize it's not him. It never is.

You cave in one night as you gaze at the array of numbers that will bring you to his voice, deciding on impulse as your fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Hello?"

His voice is deeper than in your memories, rough, like he's just awoken.

Your fingers tighten onto the device, "Hey. Remember me?"

You hear a sharp intake of breath, "It took you this long to call?” he accuses and you can already picture the narrow-eyed stare he throws you, that some glower that you always laugh at instead of being offended.

That becomes your new normal, calling him day and night and in-between shifts. Sometimes he’d send you messages during the day, little highlights of what he does. He tells you about how his parents are literally breathing down his neck every second of the day, how his rehab sessions are getting harder and harder that he almost wishes he could give it all up. He doesn’t mention going out or meeting friends, and something inside you can’t help but twist in concern at his dismissive tone. 

"How about prosthetics?” you ask unsurely, fearful that he’ll retract back into his shell the moment you mention it.

And you’re right. He’s quiet for a few long seconds that pass by like an eternity. So you hurriedly add, “you don’t have to answer that. It’s not my problem after all--”

“I have,” he cuts you off, “spoken to my physiotherapist about it.” 

Your chest gives a small lurch of anticipation, unconsciously pressing the device closer to your ear, “what did he say?” 

“He thinks I still need a little bit more strength. I used to train everyday, so all my muscles were suddenly atrophied the first few months I spent in hospital,” Changmin replied as he shifted on the other end of the receiver, “but if I keep it up, he said he’d send in a request for me to be on the waiting list.” 

“That’s wonderful Changmin!” Hope flared through your chest and warmed your heart as though you’ve just drank a cup of warm tea, the grin on your face almost as bright as the sun itself, “oh that’s good news! Maybe you’ll be able to walk again! Maybe--” 

“It’s not that easy,” Changmin hurriedly says in response and is it your imagination or does he sound a little...embarrassed? “I mean, even with the prosthetics, he said it would take some time for my own body to adjust.” 

While you haven’t seen his face for so long, there is a sense of comfort that washes over you whenever you speak to the said ex-athlete. It’s like this silent cord of communication that comes to life whenever you talk and laugh and giggle about life in general. You find yourself craving for his phone calls every day, your heart dropping in disappointment when he tells your that he’s too busy, only to flutter in exhilaration whenever you see his name flashing across your phone screen. It’s bad, that your happiness depends on a young man who’s clearly already starting to build his own life away from you, away from those damned hospital walls that everyone hates so much, but while your mind keeps on reminding you that maybe it would be wiser to take a step back, your heart aches to hear Changmin’s soft alto, if that’s the only thing that will soothe over the pain of his absence.

"So now that you’re out of the hospital, you don’t even visit?” you once tell him off. It’s true, that he has not dropped by once over the past five months after being discharged. 

Guilt resonates in his voice when he answers, “sorry, Y/N. I’ve-- I’ve been busy. And my parents--you know, they’re not that keen for me to go around by myself yet.” 

You tut at him but decide to let it go. The only memory you have of his parents is the one conversation that haunts you till this day forth. You can’t imagine how it must feel to live in a home where the ones who supposedly love you the most are the ones who believe you’ve lot your ability to walk just to spite them.

October slowly moves in to November, before November falls right into December, who trickles in with the gift of snowfall. You catch yourself gazing out of the window at the slowly drifting snowflakes more often times than not, the sense of melancholy bringing you back to your school days whenever you spot young children playing in the yard. Patients come and go, ones that you get along with, ones that are still a pain in the butt up until they’re getting discharged. Soon, you count the days till your internship is going to be over and dread slowly fills you at the prospect of having to go back to school, to go back to the life of book and spending countless hours cooped up in the library. 

Your friends throw a party on the eve of Christmas, but when you invite Changmin to come along, he is quick to dismiss your invitation with an excuse that he’ll feel like the butt of a joke and besides, who wants to sit there and watch all of you have fun on the skating rink? 

“But I’ll stay with you,” your protests are drowned out by him adamantly shaking his head, the shadow on his face evident even in the pixelated screen of the video call. 

“No way,” his jaw clenches, “no way. I’m not going out there just so that people can feel sorry for me.” 

“Okay,” you pause, “but Changmin, we haven’t seen each other since you got discharged. What happened to us meeting each other often and keeping in touch?” 

“We are keeping in touch,” he protests even when his eyes slide away from the screen.

You shake your head with a sigh, “fine. Be that way. I’m just trying here, but that’s not a one-way street,” and you cut the call before waiting for his answer.

Mood ruined, you are clearly not in your right state of mind the moment you show up at the skating rink. Still, you make an effort. And with your friends’ naked excitement and jovial cheerfulness, it’s hard to keep sulking in a corner. The lights hanging over the trees adorning the skating rink are twinkling red and gold and shimmering green, bouncing off the ice and creating such a magical atmosphere that it is hard to keep the grin from breaking across your face. 

Until Chanhee, one of the mutual friends that had tagged along, tugs you away to give you a gift. You blink down at it, confused as to why this young m decked with numerous admirers --  was giving you a gift as though you knew each other.

He seems to read what’s on your mind, for he quickly lifts his hands in surrender, “It’s from Changmin. The one from the track team?”

The name clogs up the back of your throat. Changmin?

“You--” Your mind reels in shock. You blink, “you know him?” 

“Not really. He just dropped by, said to give this to you.” 

"What?" You swivel around to scan the perimeter, "where? Where is he?"

"He's not here--"

But you are already halfway across the rink, striding with such purposeful speed that no one has decency to stop you as you hurry, legs burning with effort, until you turn on the corner of the road.

Nothing.

Your chest heaves. He was here, you know he was. He just doesn't want to see you.

That thought alone makes your heart ache.

When you get back home to finally open his present that night, your breath catches in your throat the moment you open the box to see a pair of earrings, simple yet elegant musical notes dangling from their hangers. They are beautiful, exquisitely so. It makes your heart pound, your stomach blossom with a troop of butterflies as you wonder at the thought of Changmin picking out a pair of earrings especially for you. That idea alone makes heat flare through your face.

A card had fallen out of the gift wrap and you gingerly pick it up from the floor, eyes scanning the words scrawled on the inside:

"Since you've been a good listener to me, I thought of gifting your ears. Thank you for these past few months. I'm sorry for not having the courage to face you yet. I'm sorry.

Love,

Changmin."

Tears sting the corner of your ears and you brush them away hastily with the back of your hand, his voice resonating through his words with such a vivid picture that your heart aches at the prospect of having just missed him. If you had been a few seconds early, he might’ve still been around and maybe, just maybe, you’d have the chance to catch a glimpse of his face, to allow yourself to gaze at those deep brown eyes that -- once foreign -- felt like falling into a galaxy of stars in the world that defines Changmin. 

As if upon mere reflex, you don’t even think twice before dialling his number.

He picks up after the second ring. 

“You,” there is so much restrained emotion in your voice that it feels clogged coming out of your mouth, “I don’t get it. We haven’t seen each other for six months. That’s almost half a year. What happened to ‘let’s stay in touch and that you’ll visit?’ “ 

It’s not fair for him to fall victim to the built-up frustration swimming in your stomach for months. But your mouth is like a dam that suddenly bursts and the words come rushing out of you faster than you can blink. 

“You can’t just walk into my life and walk out of it as if the time spent in hospital meant nothing to you. If that’s the case, then why even bother answering my calls then? Why not just cut me off altogether? It’s not fair Changmin,” you swallow thickly, “It��s not fair. You’re not the one that gets to choose when we see each other, or when we don’t.” 

There’s a pause where you catch your breath, and when he speaks next, his voice is rough, laced with remorse, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You breathe out shakily, “why?” Your nose feels stuffed and you’re pretty certain it’s glowing red, “do you not want to see me? Is that it? Why don’t you just say so--”

“I do want to see you, Y/N. Just--Just not--” he chokes on the last word, “not now.” 

“Why?” 

The silence that follows hangs between you both like a bubble threatening to pop, held with a string of tension so high you feel goosebumps explode across the back of your arms. 

And then, just when you think that he is too much of a coward to actually say something in his defence, his alto resonates through the receiver:

“Do you trust me?” 

Your mind pauses. You digest his words. Do you? 

It takes a moment of hesitation for you to murmur your agreement.

“Then, please don’t question whatever’s happening, whatever I’m doing right now,” he inhales, exhales softly, before repeating, “please.” 

And you’re not really sure why, or how, you still have faith in this relationship of yours that you’re not even sure where to classify it. You just nod and murmur out, “okay,” all that while silent tears are paving trails down your cheeks to dribble along your chin. 

You just hope that whatever his reason is, he better have a damn good one.

-♡-

You wait. 

And wait. 

You keep waiting.

The new year comes and goes by without much excitement. February is a spring breeze filled with valentine cards and balloons popping up at every corner of the street. March is wet and full of rain showers, so much so that there is not one day you don’t come home soaked to the bone and shaking like a dog. 

After your argument on Christmas eve, you decide to do what’s best for you, which is protect your heart at all costs. Tossing away the hope that maybe there might be something akin to romance blossoming between the two of you, you focus instead on the new semester as well as the troubles and stress that come along with it. Through it all, you keep a constant stream of chatter between you and the said young man, whom you’ve learnt has taken up French lessons online to stimulate his brain and now can fully move around in his wheelchair without any assistance. 

“Look,” Changmin said once when he’d swivelled the camera around to show you how he’d managed to get himself into the garden, “I barely had any energy in my arms when I first left the hospital. Now, it’s as easy as walking.” 

The smile on his face was as pure as sunshine and your gut felt weird knowing that you were in the same city and yet could not, for whatever of his personal reasons, see him face to face. 

The physicality of him is a void in your life you had patched up with a flurry of activities to keep your mind busy. Whenever you catch yourself daydreaming of the possible what ifs surrounding this young man, you’d throw yourself head first into any activity -- literally anything -- to keep your mind off; accompanying your mother to the grocery store for instance, or helping your dad mow the lawn. Maybe it’s just a coping mechanism until you crash headfirst into a wall and realize that running away from your problems isn’t going to cut it. But for now, you’d accept this gladly as your fate. 

The most you get of him is through video call, not that this can compare to actually seeing him physically in real life. But hey, you’re taking what you can get at this point. It makes you grow closer to each other, communicating every day about everything and anything. Though the physical distance has never seemed so huge, you can’t help but feel like these past few months you feel like you’ve grown even closer to the man in the wheelchair on the other side of the screen, heart warming and cheeks flushing deep red whenever you catch yourself wistfully daydreaming of encountering Changmin again after so long.

You’re not even sure where the time goes but no sooner are you done with your final semester of University that a year has passed. A year since you’ve met Changmin, a year since your internship that seems to have opened your eyes to see the world in a whole different perspective, as if you’ve been blind up until now.

A whole year and you still haven’t seen nor hide or hair of the said young man.

That ultimately changes one day.

You’re to attend the Children’s Day event at the hospital which you’ve interned at that day. Decked in a pair of loose khaki pants and a white shirt, you’ve tied your hair up in a bun for the occasion and trudge to the hospital doors with your worn-out, red converse. 

That’s when you hear a voice. You hear him, calling out your name.

You freeze for a moment, mind going in a mental frenzy as you try to hold yourself together. This has happened all too many times to count, where you’d turn around so fast expecting to see Changmin’s dimpled smile greet you-- only to end up grinning at a random passerby instead.

But then his voice resonates louder, stronger. Curling through the air and shattering through reality like a bass drum: 

“Y/N.” 

Slowly, like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, you turn around. Your eyes settle across a familiar face, features that you’ve endlessly traced god knows how many times in your dreams and almost on instinct, a scream dies at the back of your throat while you stumble back in shock, blinking furtively and trying to make sense of the reality before you.

Because there, with that same dimpled smile and those brown eyes curved into crescents, sits Changmin.

“Wha--” you don’t know what to say, precisely why you stop yourself mid-way through a sentence. You’re not really sure if you’re dreaming or not, thumb instantly pressing down against one of your fingers in case this might be a dream.

But the sting is all too real and you can’t help sucking in a breath, stunned into silence.

You gawk. He stares back evenly, a lingering smile dancing on his lips.

Changmin, your mind screams. Changmin. 

He’s here. Right here within an arm’s touch. 

You don’t think. You can’t even breathe for a second. 

Your feet stumble, as if attracted to him like a magnet. Heart beating in the back of your throat. 

“You--” your throat is clogged as if you can barely breathe and in response the young man only chuckles, the laughter resonating through your ears and reminding you of all the reasons why you’ve held on so tightly to him for all these months. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you don’t even bother to stop them cascading down your cheeks. Instead, you take your time to analyze his face, to trace the contour of his lips an the edge of his nose with your maroon orbs like a parched woman taking a first sip for the very first time.

When Changmin speaks next, his alto is a soft murmur, “surprise?”

“You--You--” you want to say something, anything. But the only words that manage to make it out are, “You’re here.” 

“Yeah,” he replies softly, “I’m here.” 

The urge to hug him suddenly overtakes your body and you move forward as if on instinct, until he stops you with a lift of his hands. 

“I can explain,” his eyes flutter down for a moment, before going back up to meet your brown orbs, “why I never asked to meet up, why it seemed like I never wanted to see you.” 

Confusion flits across your face, causing Changmin to let out another chuckle, more nervous this time, before his hands went to press down onto the handles on each side.

And then slowly, as if you are staring at some kind of miracle of some sort, you see him lift himself up on his legs. 

And then he stands. On his legs.

He’s standing. 

Changmin is standing. 

A breath escapes the back of your throat. Your heart almost drops to your stomach. What?

“Wha--” orbs flickering back and forth between his legs and his face, your brain goes into overdrive at the sight before you, “How?”

The Changmin, who had almost given up on life the moment he was wheeled inside the hospitals. Changmin, who had tossed any help away as though they were only nuisances in his life.

This Changmin was now standing before you on his own two feet and grinning from ear to ear as if he’d never been happier in his entire life.

“Prosthetics,” he explains then, even though you’ve already managed to put two and two together, “I didn’t want you to see me...in such a state. I wanted to make sure I could walk, by the time I saw you again,” he bites down onto his lower lip, “so it took a little more time than expected. That--” he inhales shakily, closing his eyes for a second, before gazing straight into yours with such an intensity it makes your heart stutter, “that was the promise I made myself.”

“But--how--That must’ve--” you can’t seem to find coherence in the tangled knot of thoughts in your brain, “that must’ve hurt--”

“You said so yourself,” he murmurs, taking a shaky step towards you. Then another, and another. Until he’s now just at arm’s reach, “that I need to start living.”

“I--” you swallow thickly, “I--Changmin, I don’t know what to say--”

“Then don’t say anything,” his hands come up to cup your face, “just kiss me.” 

And his mouth is claiming yours before you can even respond, moving with such an intensity that your surprised gasp is drowned out by the sensation of warmth blossoming over your chest. He kisses you with an almost desperate need , mouth moving at a pace that leaves your thoughts dizzy, your breaths uneven and your chest tight with fluttering butterflies while his hands find purchase at your waist to pull you even closer, so close you can feel his hard frame against your curves. 

Your eyes flutter open when you part momentarily, lips still hovering over each other and foreheads pressed. Gazing up into those dark pupils of his, so tender and intense at the same time, a sob echoes through the back of your throat without meaning to before you bury your face into his neck in a mixture of shame and embarrassment of being seen in such a weak, shaken-up state. 

You feel his hand rub comforting circles over your back in a gesture of comfort, of reassurance. That only makes you sob a little harder, clutching onto him with a feline’s grip as if you fear he might vanish the second you blink.

“Y/N,” Changmin’s soft alto reaches your ears, “Y/N, it’s okay.”

It is only when his legs shake that you take it as a hint that he shouldn’t be standing too much. Wiping away your tears with the back of your hand, you quickly help him back into his chair as you’re met with another of his wide grins that takes years off his age, “sorry,” he says, “I’m not really supposed to stand for too long. It’s only until recently that I managed to stand on my own.” 

“And yet you were showing off,” you remark with a roll of your eyes.

“I wanted our first kiss to be a good one." 

Something about his abrupt confession has you redden down to the tips of your toes, heat tingling like electricity down your back while his hand grasps yours to tug you closer. You look down at him and wonder where all the pain has gone, for it seems like Changmin's voice is free from the tension, the earlier pain that had deeply etched grooves onto his features.

But it's not there anymore. His expression ie clear, pure joy glistening through his eyes. You wonder briefly what changed and you can't help but ask, not even bothered by the cold nipping at your fingers.

His eyes soften at your words as his thumb traces random circles over your knuckles, "nothing changed. I just decided that I wouldn't be that person who spends his days being depressed and sad all the time."

"Does it hurt?" You motion towards his legs, "how did you even do it? I know of patients who did the same treatment. It's not easy, you have to go through rehab--"

"Which I did. I took all the pamphlets you gave me, signed up for counselling and physiotherapy. Went everyday until I had blisters along my thighs. It was hard, I almost gave up," he shakes his head, the memory causing his face twist in a slight grimace, "but I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you that I could do it. Y/N, I don't think I've ever been that desperate before. You know that one race you want to win? It felt like that. Like my life depended on it."

His eyes are so intense it makes your breath catch in your throat. Your entire chest constricts. He continues:

"I just wanted to prove to you that I was capable of doing something like that. And along the way, I guess I just felt like...like all this, this felt like living."

And it is. Gone is the weight that bears down on his shoulders. Changmin looks like he's finally breathing again, like he set himself free from the cage of his own mind.

Pride swells within you. It's amazing how far he's come from the broken mess he once was and tears prick ay the corner of your eyes.

Softly, he tugs you down onto his lap and you don't even fight it, allowing your body to give in to the warmth emanating from his chest and the feeling of his face so close to yours.

H pushes away a strand of hair from your forehead, curling it behind your ear. His maroon orbs meet yours, warm and swimming with affection, "I missed you," he murmurs huskily, causing a flurry of tingles down your spine.

"I--" your eyebrows knit together as all the time spent alone comes rushing back to you, "I missed you too."

His thumb rub circles over your cheek, "I’m sorry, I didn't want to hurt you."

"No, it's fine," you pause, hands tightening over his shirt, "I can understand."

"I didn't want to disappoint you--”

"I know.” 

“--And I didn’t want you thinking I was a coward. Or pathetic.” 

“I know, Changmin.” 

A sigh escapes his lips before he buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. You shiver in response and heat flushes through your neck upon feeling his lips ghost over your skin, "Am I forgiven then?" He murmurs.

"I guess you are--" the words die halfway up your throat when he presses the softest peck against your pulse point. Breath quickening, your body instinctively tenses as you ask, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing,” you don’t have to see his grin to know it’s there, imprinted on his face. But at this very moment, not even an inch of your brain cares, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him as close as you can. Changmin takes a shaky inhale at your touch as his own hands flutter down your back, the softest of caresses up and down your spine as you hold each other in the coldness of the hospital parking lot. 

"I’m not letting you go again,” the murmur falls past your lips before you can stop them, but you don’t even have time to ponder over the cheesiness of your statement that Changmin’s arms wind so tight around your middle that you are pulled close, his hard frame against your curves. 

You swallow, eyes locking in silent conversation, though it’s not quite silent since the love shining through his maroon orbs is as clear as crystal water. 

He nudges his nose against yours, “I could say the same for you.” 

You smile as he steals another kiss from your lips, not caring that your bodies are freezing, not even thinking about how ridiculous you must look sitting on his lap in the middle of the hospital parking lot.

All you know is that Changmin-- breathing and alive and filled with so much life and energy and hope -- has made his way back to you. And that you’re not about to let go. 

[fluffy-lee-boa]

Arkham’s Sweetheart and the Grumpy Riddle Bug

a batman rogue ticklefic uwu

A/N: hey everyone!!! this took me a bit, but it kinda got away from me and turned into a little story of its own haha. i wrote this with the animated universe in mind, but honestly i think it’ll work with a few.

anyways, this was a request! lee!edward getting ganged up on by ler!harley and ler!pamela. hope you like it!!!

It was rare that anyone in Arkham would be such a ray of sunshine, being the drab and dank place that it is, but Harley Quinn was definitely the exception. Despite her treatment at the hands of guards, her clown of an ex, and the bat alike, she was always surprisingly upbeat as she passed through the halls of the facility, hands cuffed behind her back.

Her cheery attitude didn’t exactly mesh with her fellow rogues, though none of them were immune to her disarming charms. This meant that the room full of murderers and scoundrels all took pause when she entered, giving her soft smiles or begrudging greetings as she went ahead to settle into the rec room.

Well, all but one person.

Edward Nashton, or Nygma, as he had legally changed it to, was not exactly chipper on this stormy day- not that he was ever “chipper.” It’s just that today he seemed more put off than usual, based on the way he was stewing in the corner. There was an abandoned chessboard on the table beside him, likely from Jervis or Jonathan having grown frustrated with his attitude mid-game. It wasn’t uncommon, though it did present a challenge to the doctor as she assessed the situation.

Edward was one of her closest friends. It would be a crime not to help him out! He obviously needed someone there to cheer him up, for whatever reason, and who better than the sweetheart of Arkham herself?

(No, not Ivy. She was currently busy by the window, gardening. Though Harley was sure she could get her to help out if necessary.)

“Hey Eddie~!” She cooed as she skipped over and took the seat across from him, giving that same magical smile.

Edward gave her a half-hearted, “Quinn.” not even looking up from the floor.

Hmph. This was worse than she thought!

“What’s got ya so wound up today, hon?” she asked, a bit of her professionalism seeping through from her days as a staff member in this same institution.

He raised an eyebrow at her, before staring back at the ground with a rather childish, “You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” she deadpanned, leading to her fellow inmate to purse his lips.

Edward knew that Harley was not somebody to underestimate. While Joker had tossed her aside and treated her like a jockey, he could tell she was much more intelligent than she let on. She was also stubborn- Which meant there wasn’t much of a chance of him getting out of this without telling her the truth.

He sighed, finally looking directly at her as he laid his chin in his hands, “It’s Batman. I’m sure you’re aware I was only just sent back here yesterday... I have reason to believe he’s found someone else to antagonize. Why won’t he realize that I’m the only one in this city who’s worthy of being his equal...?”

Harley blinked, a part of her tempted to admit that pretty much everyone but him knew he was a second tier villain at best. Though she knew how fragile the other’s ego was, and what he really needed right now was moral support. Like a break up! He’d been there for her when she went through her messy separation, albeit with his usual awkward stoniness, so it was only right that she return the favor.

“Aw, come on Ed. He’s not worth your time.” she waved her hand dismissively, “If anything, he should be locked up in here with us! He’s no better than... Jonathan! Just using fear to escape a lonely life and exert some sort of sick power over others.”

From the couch across the room, Crane looked up from his book, unimpressed. Clearly, he wanted no part of this.

Harley gave an awkward laugh and wave to her old professor, before turning back to Edward, “-Either way, I think you could do better.”

Edward raised an eyebrow, “...Really?”

She nodded, swinging her legs excitedly, “Yeah! Once we bust outta here, we should get you on some dating apps. Maybe go to a few Comic Cons. There’s gotta be someone out there who’s just as nerdy as you-!” she giggled as she poked him in the shoulder teasingly, watching the other puff up defensively.

“I don’t need a partner! I need a rival to sharpen my wits. I just- I want him to see that we’re the same. Is that too much to ask?” Edward snapped, pouting once more.

Harley’s smile faded for a moment, and she seemed to think for a moment, “....Get up.”

“What?” Edward seemed baffled at the sudden order, especially coming from her.

“Stand up! I wanna try somethin’!” She beamed, motioning for the other to get out of his chair. At this point, most of the other inmates were busy in their own little worlds, though a few took notice when Nygma stood. Especially since Harley looked so unnervingly excited.

Quinn walked over with a rather threatening look in her eye, hidden by her giddy smile, “Ok, now put your hands up.”

He hesitated, leading to a gentle, “Come on~! I’m not gonna hurt ya!”

Edward nervously raised his arms above his head, his baggy uniform falling over his slender form due to weeks of avoiding meals. He’d probably been up for days, based on his demeanor. He really put his whole heart and soul into this rivalry, Harley thought.

These small details of the other’s appearance only spurred on the psychiatrist as she stalked around him like a predator, deciding she knew exactly what she had to do. Then, when she was sure he wouldn’t expect it, Harley clamped down under his arms, wiggling her fingers against his skin through the loose fabric. In her opinion, laughter was the best medicine, and if Eddie was going to hold back like that, she certainly wasn’t.

If no one had been paying attention to them before, Edward sharp yelp would have tipped everybody off. He immediately brought his arms back down with a strangled giggle, doing his best to shoot Harley a look as she continued with her hands wedged under his arms.

She merely laughed along in response, cooing, “Awh Eddie, you’re so cute when you’re laughing like this. Kitchy koo~!”

“Harleen!” he hissed through gritted teeth, his cheeks already a bright red color as he tried to squirm free of her grasp.

After a moment he managed to pull away and get those blasted fingers out from his hollows- only for his arm to once again by suspended above him by some unidentifiable force. He looked up in horrified confusion, only to find thick vines wrapped around each wrist, holding him up like he was the catch of the day at Gotham Harbor..

“ISLEY!”

The purring voice of the botanist did nothing to soothe his flustered anger as she appeared beside her current partner in crime, “Yes, Edward...?”

Eddie bit down on his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter from the light yet overwhelming sensations, leading to his fiery responses being entirely silenced. Harley had barely even let up while the fiendish red-head had done her work, her fingers now trailing up his biceps and back down just to make him jump.

“Look Eddie, we just wanna help ya! Now, be a good little gigglebug and laugh.” Harley gave her victim an evil smirk, before moving down to dig into his prominent ribs.

Edward immediately acted like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, before he finally fell into real, authentic laughter. It was honestly a marvel that no guard had come to check on the group yet, considering how noisy they’d become both from Edward’s current predicament, and the snickers of onlookers.

His laugh was more sweet and melodic than most people would think, and it was almost bouncy as he squirmed around. It sounded much more innocent than the man who was behind it.

“C’mon Eddie, that’s it,” Pamela hummed as she stepped around him, obviously enjoying watching the other get so flustered. His cheeks heated up as she fluttered her leaves and flower petals across his neck from the greenery continuing to hold him up, affectively turning his mind to mush.

“Youhou’re both dEAHAHAEEEE-!” Edward’s final attempt at a threat fell off into a squeal when Harley suddenly moved down to his hip bones with her own sporadic movements, making him buck as he tried to pull his arms free.

“Jackpot!” Harley sang, focusing all her attention on the dips and protruding bone. She was pure evil alright.

Edward’s squealing soon tapered off into begging and hiccuping giggles as he slowly lost his energy, all of which were practically indecipherable anyways, “Harleen! Pleaseheheheease-! Noho-!”

Harley hesitated, making an over-exaggerated face as if contemplating something grand, “Mmm... I don’t think you’re all cheered up yet...”

“I aham Ihihihiamm-!!!” He wheezed, his laughter starting anew as Quinn moved up a little to trace at his sides.

Harley and Ivy shared a look, and Harley eventually shrugged, slowing her movements to a stop. He’d had enough for the day.

Edward immediately sunk to the floor as Ivy’s vines guided him in a manner that would keep him from injuring himself, and soon the green weeds bloomed flowers to serve as a sort of mattress for the man to rest on. He continued giggling airily from the leftover ghost tickles and slight movements of the flora, the two watching. him curiously. Eventually he looked up at the both of them with a more genuine, honestly pretty cheesy smile.

There’s the Edward they knew and loved!

Harley was the first to react, per usual. She squealed excitedly and went to tackle him in a hug, which he begrudgingly returned as Ivy sat down cross legged beside them on their living carpet. The rest of the rogues had gone back to their own business, leaving the three to their own devices now that Edward had been so fiercely pulled out of his funk.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Edward spoke up with a surpassingly shy, “Er... thank you. Both. I needed that. Even if it was insufferable, it was... nice.”

Harley simply hummed happily and hugged him tighter, while Ivy was left to wave him off. He made Harley happy, so he was clearly worth their time.

Harley remained cuddled up between the two indefinitely after it was all said and done, rambling on about nothing in particular and helping get Ed’s mind off of the Bat for once in his life. And after recreational hours were done? She would get Edward to a meal and help him get back to his feet before their next breakout and/or parole hearing. And even if she acted aloof, Ivy would be with them every step of the way.

[darling-i-read-it]

Buffet Froid

1x10

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, mental health problems 

Author’s Note: The art of making it look like i like hannibal when he annoyed the fuck out of me this episode. Also it is so hard to write this cause my HEART i just wanna hug will UGH

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine. 

Official Episode Summary : Two victims' faces are similarly mutilated. For the first time, Will contaminates a crime scene thinking he committed the first murder and an MRI shows he suffers from Advanced Encephalitis.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll​

(not my gif)

You sat in the car. You were outside of a crime scene, the house looking ominous as it loomed over what had happened inside. There were so many people outside, taking pictures and talking. Will was inside. You had driven him, per his request. You usually didn’t come to the crime scenes but they had been acting off, like he was almost on autopilot when he asked you to take him. Your fingers drummed on the steering wheel as you stared out, trying to catch glimpses of people you knew. 

You saw Bev walk out quickly making her way to the car. You rolled down the window and she shook her head a bit as she walked up.

“You should go talk to Will,” she said. 

“What happened?” Bev looked back at the house, at Jack who had just exited the house. You looked at her, the worried look on her face evident.

“He contaminated the crime scene. He’s never done that before,” Beverly said. “His hands were around her throat.” 

You were surprised to hear that, rightly so. You unlocked the car and got out, walking across the yard beside Beverly who was quick to give anyone a look that even thought about protesting to your presence. Will had come out when you weren’t looking. He was talking to Jack.

“I got lost in the reconstruction. Just for a second. Just a blink,” Will was saying as you walked up to him. Jack barley took notice of your presence but Will looked at you, surprised to see you there by his eyes. He didn’t protest it though. You knew before he could tell you. He had lost some time.

“I know you don’t like to be a subject of concern, but consider me officially concerned,” Jack said. You scoffed and Jack glanced at you but didn’t show any emotion. 

“Officially,” Will said.

“About time,” you muttered. 

“Wait in the car,” Jack said to you. You raised your hands in defiance.

“I’m here on a warning from Beverly,” you said, glancing at Will. He shook his head.

“I’ll be there soon,” he muttered. You nodded and he reached out to grab your hand and for a second he held it, quietly, looking confused and worried and scared. Your hand slipped from his and you walked over to the car.

“Thought the reason you have me seeing Dr. Lecter and not an FBI psychiatrist is so my mental well-being stays unofficial,” Will muttered, watching you go. 

“Have I broken you?” Jack asked. “Is your girlfriend right this time?” 

“Do you have anybody that does this better unbroken then I do broken?” Will asked. “And she’s always right.” 

“Fear makes you rude, Will,” Jack said as Will walked to the car. His hands shook. He always seemed to be shaking. He stooped at the drivers window and you looked at him, elbow resting on the open window and your hand propped up by your palm. 

“We should go to Hannibal after this,” you muttered. 

“Why are you here?” he asked. It wasn’t rude. He was only asking. 

“You asked me to drive you.” He nodded, glancing back at the house. “I have to look at the body again.” A beat of silence. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“Gutting a fish,” he whispered. You nodded. He had gone fishing yesterday though.

“We’ll go to Hannibal’s together.”

“Sit in,” he whispered, referring to the session. 

“I will.” He nodded and walked back to the house. You fought the tears threatening to fall from seeing him in so much confusion.

-

“I can’t remember seeing her dead body before I saw myself killing her,” Will said. He glanced at you sheepishly. You sat on Hannibal’s desk which was your resident spot when you sat into sessions. You didn’t do it often and you only did it with Will’s request or permission. He wanted a witness today, to whatever it is that Hannibal had prepared for him.

“Those memories sank out of sight, yet you’re aware of their absence,” Hannibal inquired. Will was pacing around the room, his mind on fire. 

“They left a slick on the surface of my mind where they’re supposed to be,” he said. 

“Where you hope they’re supposed to be, but fear they never were.” Will looked haunted. The false memories made him reel. The dying human under his hands had felt so real.

“There’s a grandiosity in the violence I imagined that feels more real than what I knew is true,” he said. 

“What do you know to be true?” Hannibal asked.

“I know I didn’t kill her. Couldn’t have. But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die.” 

“You must overcome these delusions that are disguising your reality. What savage delusions does this killer have?” Hannibal questioned. He was walking around the room as well, but in smaller spaces.

“It wasn’t savage. It was lonely...desperate...sad,” Will said, his eyes glossed over. 

“Are you lonely Will?” Hannibal asked. Will shook his head then paused. Your heart sank and you hung off his answer. 

“No. That was the killer,” he said. “But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger,” he whispered. 

“What could this be? It has to be something that we can treat,” you said. Will looked at you and nodded.

“It could be a blood clot. Or a tumor. Just an answer is better than anything,” Will said. Hannibal glanced at you and Will as you stared at each other, nodding in agreement.  Your emotions hung off Will’s. It didn’t matter if you were an empath or not. You knew Will well enough to know when enough was enough. 

“I can recommend a neurologist. But if it isn’t physiological then you have to accept what you’re struggling with is mental illness,” Hannibal said. 

“It isn’t,” you whispered. 

Hannibal looked only at you as you seemed to bore holes into the ceiling now. You had a dangerous knowledge of Will Graham. Hannibal thought that might be a problem.

-

You were with Hannibal and Will into the medical office. You held Will’s hand and he held yours like a lifeline. You sat at chairs beside each other that happened to be far enough away where his hand slipped out of yours. He held them now in his lap, fingers fidgeting.

“What did the headaches start? In earnest?” Dr. Sutcliffe asked. Will glanced at you.

“Two to three months ago,” Will said and you nodded in agreement.

“About the time Will went back into the field,” you said. 

“When I met him,” Hannibal added.

“The hallucinations?” Sutcliffe asked. 

“I don’t know exactly when they started. I just slowly became aware that I might not be dreaming.” 

Hannibal walked with Sutcliffe behind a large piece of glass. You stayed with Will for a few minutes, taking his clothes in his hand as he put on the hospital dress. He let out a small sigh as you looked at him.

“What if nothing comes up?” he asked. 

“We’ll deal with that when it comes.” 

Will looked at you and you looked at him. He was ready to go but he waited. Eyes glancing around your body wildey.

“If nothing comes up than I am, by definition, likely insane,” he told you quietly. “And if-”

“I’m not going to go anywhere,” you said. Will looked broken. He looked tired. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing the back of it. “I love you.”

His breath seemed to relax. He knew you but he wasn’t sure that when he woke up you would be gone. He might be seriously ill but knowing you were there still made him feel better. 

“I love you too.” You kissed him and he kissed you back desperately. 

“Go get your brain scanned now. You have lipstick on your lips,” you said as you pulled away. He laughed very subtly adn shrugged, wiping it off with his hand.

“I don’t think it’ll mess up the results.” 

“You never know.”

-

You stood beside Will again before the doctor. He pointed to the brain scan. 

“We didn’t find anything abnormal. No vascular malformations, no tumors. No swelling or bleeding. No evidence of stroke. Nothing wrong with you neurologically,” the doctor said. Will’s face was clearly troubled. “Usually when I tell a patient that, they’re happy to hear it.” 

“So... what I’m experiencing is psychological?” Will asked.

“Brain scans can’t diagnose a mental disorder. They can only rule out medical illnesses, like a tumor, that can cause similar symptoms.” 

“And there’s no chance you’ve mixed up the photos? Or maybe the machine was malfunctioning? I hear that happens,” you said stiffly. 

“Y/N,” Will muttered but you shook your head.

“We can do more tests if it’ll make you feel better. Take some blood samples, but I imagine they'll be just as inconclusive.” 

For some reason you doubted the truth in that but you didn’t voice it. 

-

You walked into Jack Crawford's office. He took off his glasses and looked up at you, clearly not excited to see you.

“Does Will need something?” Jack asked.

“Stability.  A new brain perhaps,” you said. Jack looked you up and down and he knew that you meant business.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice monotone.

“Will’s always been a bit odd. Always. It was what drew me to him in the first place,” you said. 

“Listen-”

“Shut up.” He shut up. “When Will went back into the field it was because you wanted him to. Will wants to please people. He wants to save lives. He wants to use his gift for good but for each life he saves a little piece of him is burned and singed. You broke Will Jack Crawford and I won’t let you forget it,” you said evenly, looking down at him.

“Do you have a life outside of Will Graham?” 

“I did before you broke him and now I have to advocate where he cannot.” 

“We were never going to be friends,” Jack said.

“No, no we weren’t.” 

-

Come midnight when Will hadn’t arrived home you woke up. You were getting a suspicious amount of sleep. You had gone to bed, assuming he would be back soon after you fell asleep. Jack sometimes had him out late hours and he was likely to be back. But when you woke up and he was still gone you started to panic a bit. 

You calmed yourself, trying to reason that he was maybe still at work. You called his cell. No answer. 

You got up out of bed and put on some clothes. With him sleepwalking, losing time, he could be anywhere. You told yourself to add a tracker to his phone.

You got into the car and drove the streets for a few minutes. He wasn’t there. You then drove to Hannibal’s which was the only other place your mind could come up with. You knocked on the door at about 12:30, shaking from the cold and worry. It took Hannibal a moment to come to the door but he eventually did, wearing his robe and rubbing his eyes.

“I thought you were Will,” he admitted. 

“Will hasn’t come home yet. He won’t pick up the phone but I’m guessing he’s not here,” you said, looking past him.

“Have you tried the crime scene?” he questioned. You shook your head but that must be where he was. It had to be. 

“No but I’ll go there now. I’m sorry to wake you.” 

“Don’t apologize.” He was about to shut the door when you turned around but he stopped. “He’ll be there. I’m sure your expertise in finding strays will help,” Hannibal said simply. You nodded and walked back to the car.

On your way there you got a call from Will. 

“Where the f-”

“I just sent you the address. Come quickly.” He hung up and you did as you were told, driving faster to the destination you were already going to.  You were there in under ten minutes from where you had been on your drive and you got out, walking quickly up to Will.

“I thought you were dead!” you yelled, throwing your arms around him. He shook his head but let you hold him. 

“Not yet,” he muttered. “I called Beverly to help me figure out the crime scene,” he said. 

“Then why did you tell me to come?” 

“Emotional support.” You nodded and held him tighter.

-

You woke up with a start. Will was thrashing beside you and you put your arm on his side instinctively. You couldn’t tell what had woken you up. It could be anything. The weather, your dreams but you felt like it was something out. You looked around for any disturbances. The dogs were still sleeping but you got up and looked around, trying to find what had woken you. 

You walked through the kitchen and the downstairs but you couldn’t find anything. When you were back in the bedroom Will was awake, standing up.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“Something woke me up. I was trying to figure out what.” You walked back over to him and back into bed. 

“Probably wind,” he muttered. You put your arms around him as he got back in too and he put his head on your chest. You kissed his curls. 

“Probably,” you whispered.

-

Will went in for more tests a few days later. He looked up at you as you stood in the same spots you had, with you holding his clothes as he stripped them. 

“Jack talked to me,” he said.

“Proceed with caution,” you whispered and he chuckled.

“He thinks I stayed in the job because of the stability. That Jack created stability for me, a foundation.” 

“If he keeps going on like that you’re going to be investigating his murder,” you muttered bitterly. “Would you still date me if I murdered someone?” He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I mean, I’d have to consider it.” 

“Wrong answer Graham,” you said laughing lightly. He loved these moments. Moments where it was just laughing, joking. 

“I would date you if you killed someone. I mean I might have to turn you in but prison can’t be that hard on a relationship,” he said. You nodded.

“Right back at you bubba,” you whispered.

“I have killed someone.” 

“And look at you, still a free man.”

After the tests Will walked around, trying to find you or the doctor or someone. You were waiting for him and you walked up with his clothes in hand.

“Have you seen Sutcliffe?” Will asked. You shook your head.

“Not since earlier,” you admitted. “Let’s go find him.” You held his clothes in hand as you walked through the hospital. You peaked in rooms and eventually found Sutcliffes office. You pushed open the door as it was ajar. 

You gasped and Will grabbed you and put himself between you and the body, bleeding from a chunk that had been taken out of his face.

“Don’t look,” he whispered. 

“I can,” you muttered. “Call Bev.” 

-

The FBI came soon after. Beverly gave Will a look over, Jack concerned he might have had something to do with the murdedr.

“He was with me until he went in. And I would have seen him leave,” you promised. Bev nodded. 

“You’re clean. You couldn’t have done this without getting something on you and there’s nothing on you,” Beverly said.

“I don’t feel clean,” Will whispered. 

“Murder weapon has the same diseased or damaged tissue on it that we found at Beth LeBeau’s house,” Jimmy explained aloud.

“What connection does this guy have to the first victim?” Will let out a sigh.

“Just me.”

-

Will woke up and you were already sitting up. He followed your gaze that was at where one of the dogs growled at something under the bed. He grabbed your hand and shook his head.

‘Stay,’ he whispered. You shook your head vigorously and he nodded, getting off the bed and looking underneath. He slid underneath and you leaned your head over the bed, heart pounding in your ears.

“I see you, Georgia,” Will said under the bed. You couldn't see his face. There was a woman under your bed. “Think of who you are. It’s midnight. You’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Your name is Georgia Madchen. You are not alone.” 

“Am I alive…?” came a voice, a raspy whisper. Will nodded.

-

You stood with Will in the hospital room, looking down at the living body of the woman who had slept under your bed. You held Will’s hand as he glanced over her. 

“She’ll recover,” Will said.

“Hopefully she’ll stay out of our bed,” you whispered.

1x11

[amberwild420]

one step back, two steps forwards (pt. 10)

masterlist

bee and akuma

The day went as normal as it could, Kaylan stick close to Marinette. Adrien once again tried to get Marinette to leave Kaylan before the said girl threaten to talk with his father about him medaling in their lives and politely told him to ‘fuck off’ and dragged Marinette to a secluded place.

 Marinette was rather pleased to be able to spend a peaceful time, but it was soon shattered when they threw juice on Kaylan (seriously don’t you have anything else to do?!). They were smirking, until Kaylan grabbed them by collar and pushed them down. It wasn’t long before she was called to the principle office.

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

Kaylan looked bored while sitting in one of the chairs. Lila and Alya sat opposite to her glaring at her. (Alya glaring at her, Lila was just faking tears).

 Mr. Damocles, stare at the scene in front of him. He looked at the girl who was accused to have pushed Rossi and Cesaire.

 Principle Damocles! She pushed us down! She was bullying Lila as well!

 Alya was rather quick with her accusation. Lila shed a few tears but it seems like no one saw the snake like smile on her face. But then again no one in this school was bright. Maybe Ms. Mendeleiev. And her class. Or maybe……..

  Okay. Everyone was smart but the ‘akuma class, Bustier and Damocles.

 Miss Fox, you will be suspended.

 Without any proof?

 What?

 She looked at the principle with a raised eyebrow like he was crazy.

 Lila threw juice on me. She’s bullying me. What punishment should she get? Look….

 She showed him, her white shirt with a big red splotch. It was clear that someone threw it intentionally. Seeing this Lila fake innocently looked at principle.

 But it was an accident. My sprain wrist couldn’t hold the juice properly and……

 Then I accidently bumped into you when I was trying to save myself from your ‘accidental’ spill.

 No you did it on purpose!

 Then you did it on purpose too.

 The argument went like this, Alya shouting at Kaylan and Kaylan calmly responding.

 What proof do you have?!

  What proof do YOU have?

 The sudden silence took over.

 Everyone in the courtyard saw you pushing us down!

 They also saw you throwing your drink on me.

 Lila and Alya seethed. No matter what they said, this Kaylan was too smart. She was pushing them back with twice as much force. She then turned to Damocles.

 Since no one has any proof to actually prove what truly happened I’m sure you can mark it as accident from both side. The juice spilled on me when Lila’s wrist acted up and I just accidently bumped into them when in was trying to save my clothes from the sudden spill.

 The same moment, a knock on the door stopped them. The door opened and Veronica in her very glory stood there. A classic mom frown was drawn on her face.

 Where is Mme. Rossi? I thought the parents were called.

 She is rather a busy person. She works in the embassy.

 Oh! And I’m not? You think I’m a free lazy person that has all the time of the world that you would call me anytime and I’ll come running. I’m far busy than an ambassador. Do you know why? I’m a damn psychiatrist. Do you know how many session I have to take in one day? Call Mme. Rossi or I’m taking this case to the board!

 Damocles stood up like he sat on the pot of fire. He knew if the board got involved he can be in trouble. And the way this woman was glaring at him, he had no doubt that she would do so.

 Mlle. Fox, the matter has been resolved. Both sides were just accident and they just exaggerated.

 Veronica relaxed a bit. She knew the liar could spin the tale or she would have gone to Rossi herself. But Kaylan said it wasn’t necessary. She will get to her later but she needed to support Marinette and teach her how not to be too trusting. She’ll let it go this time.

 You haven’t taken back my suspension.

 Kaylan slyly added.

 Never mind. She will kill him.

 Since this was an accident, there is no suspension!

 Damocles added rather quickly. Kaylan rolled her eyes and stood up. It didn’t take a genius to see how he sighed in relief when her mom turned as well.

 The moment they all left the office, Veronica nodded at her daughter and left, not before throwing a glare to the general direction of pair. Once she was out of sight, she turned to the pair with a smirk.

 It seems like you haven’t learnt your lesson. Or rather worse, you don’t want to learn your lesson. That’s fine, I’ll eventually knock it to your thick skulls.

 You’re threatening us?

 Do you have proof?

 I recorded it.

 Did you now?

 She smirked and left them sputtering. It didn’t take them long to see that Alya never started her recording leaving both of them with no proof.

 Marinette paced in front at the end of the hallway. The moment she looked at Kaylan coming she breathed a sigh of relief but it was rather short lived. The loud explosion got their attention and Akuma alert rang. Marinette ran out to find a place to transform.

 Tikki, spots on!

 The moment she saw the akuma, she sighed in irritation. Of course someone has to anger Officer Roger of all people. And Mayura had to send a senti-monster. A giant robot. That definitely looked like a robot. Was she in transformers or something? She looked at Ryuu and Python as they landed next to her, but she started dreading when chat landed as well.

 Milady! Did you miss your knight in the shinning leather?

No!

 Meow don’t say that milady. I thought you liked me and my purr-fect puns.

 Resisting the urge to punch him and knocking him out, ladybug was quick to give order before calling for lucky charm. A box with Chinese writing fell in her hand. Giving the distraction duty she ran to collect a miraculous.

 Tikki, spots off. Get recharged Tikki. We’re going to get Kaylan for the fight again.

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After recharge and miraculous, Ladybug swing by school looking for her friend. She found her on top of the school roof. A magic circle beneath her feet as talked to someone on phone, probably her mother. Despite what she says, she loves her mother so much. Luka was often right with personality judgment. As soon as she landed next to her, Kaylan hung up after a quick goodbye.

  Kaylan! I hope I’m not interrupting something important.

 No.

Very well. Kaylan fox, this is the miraculous of bee, you will use this as a source to help me and nothing else.

 She took the box and opened, the same bright light blinded her, before a Kwami came into her view. This one was yellow and black. But this one was rather sad to see her. The hair comb resting in the box.

 Was she not expecting to see her?

Same question. Transformation phrase, power, de-transformation phrase and your name.

 My name is pollen. Say buzz on to transform, you get venom and can paralyze anyone with it. Buzz off to de-transform.

 Thank you.

 She clipped the comb in her hair.

Pollen, buzz on.

 When transformation completed, ladybug looked in awe. It was not a skin tight spandex, but a short dress with knee high black boots. It was mostly black. Her hair tied in pigtails and two short antennae formed on her head. The

 What am I supposed to do?

 Well you are holding the miraculous of subjection. Your main job is crowd control.

Kaylan nodded before leaping away and ladybug swing towards the incoming akuma.

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Kaylan was having a lot of difficulty with the bee. Looking at the top in her hand, she looked rather troubled. She tried to use the top as whip but she couldn’t get that right.

 She already got knocked in two walls and a big billboard with Agreste perfume ad. Looking at the incoming akuma, Kaylan sighed. Guess she’ll have to fight the hard way. While the main heroes were taking care of the senti-monster, Kaylan hoped she could figure things out rather quickly.

The moment Robocop fired his beam, Kaylan dodged and ran around a little before throwing the top to tie his up, but he escaped her lousy attempt.

 Better not use venom until I figure out what to do with a top in my hand.

 She ran up to him dodging the handcuffs and the blasts before giving him a kick on his face and throwing him away and getting ready to throw her weapon again.

 You’re not supposed to use it this way.

Kaylan turned towards the origin baffled. In front of her was Chloe Bourgeois without the care of the akuma.

 Kaylan wanted to call her but stopped herself from calling her name.

 Miss, please go to the shelter, it’s not safe here. I’m fighting an akuma right now.

 I know, but you don’t even know how to use this weapon. It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

Chloe glared at the new bee hero. Sure she was expecting to be replaced and she was sad and regretted her choice but she’ll make sure that the next bee is at least competent enough.

 But the bee in front of her was just average. She couldn’t figure out how to throw the top to tie the akuma up. But at least she makes up for her incompetency with her smarts and ability to fight.

 Kaylan looked at the blonde dumbfounded. Sure she doesn’t know how to use a top but she seriously doesn’t need to say it right to her face.

Fine! Let’s have a lesson on how to use this top as a weapon properly 101.

 What?

 Chop chop! We don’t have time.

 And thus Kaylan had no choice but to follow Chloe’s instructions. It was not easy to use such a crude thing as weapon but Chloe spoke like she had experience. In less than 10 minutes, the Robocop was paralyzed, lying in front of them.

How did you know what I have to do?

 Chloe looked away before sighing. Her previous assertive was gone just like that.

 It’s just……. I was the former bee.

 Kaylan had a realization.

 No wonder.

I’m not a permanent hero. Ladybug needed help, but she was reluctant to call any previous holder. It would be dangerous, especially if your identity is known.

 I know.

 Chloe said softly before leaving. Kaylan looked at the retreating figure before turned towards the paralyzed akuma. With a thud, the four heroes that were fighting the senti-monster dropped in front of her.

 Wait who are you?!

And the peaceful moment shattered when chat noir hissed towards her. Sure enough, his existence was rather unpleasant.

 I’ll be taking my leave ladybug. You can collect the miraculous later, I don’t have much time.

  Getting ladybug’s affirmation, Kaylan jumped and swing towards a familiar route ignoring the hisses of an alley cat.

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Kaylan called off the transformation, and the Kwami floated around freely. Staring at the Kwami, Kaylan opened her mouth.

Were you expecting Chloe Bourgeois instead of me?

The Kwami stayed silent but that was enough conformation. Putting the miraculous back at the proper place, Kaylan waited for the Ladybug.

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[orangerosebush]

What’s in a name?

[ao3 link]

Juliet Butler was used to sharing. The weight of her last name. Her brother. Her space within the manor. It seemed that just by being born at this time, within this family, she was expected to follow a certain path in life that was so far tangled up in the Fowls as to not really be hers at all.

It didn’t surprise her brother when she sat him down at age 18 and told him she was going to try a crack at something new in America with the wrestling circuit, but it did surprise him when she came back a mere three years later. It was shortly after when Artemis checked into the psychiatrist in Haven — she had come to the clinic with Butler and Artemis, and she took the shuttle back to the manor with Butler.

Butler didn’t want to say anything too pointed. They’d have to talk about if she was here to stay for good eventually, but she had just gotten back; he knew that she was proud enough that she’d pack her bags again if she felt he was suggesting her experiment in the U.S. with carving her own path had failed.

So they didn’t talk about it. They both went on, carefully watching each other as they circled around the elephant in the room.

It had been a week since she arrived at the manor, and it looked like they could avoid the subject altogether if they tried hard enough. Their patterns during the day were certainly different enough that they could rely on their interactions being brief enough to make having a conversation about what Juliet was going to do easy to sidestep.

He was far busy enough trying to explain to Mrs. Fowl why her son was staying with a psychologist a few thousand kilometers under the earth’s surface. Neither the mental health conversation nor the magic conversation was going particularly well, he winced. Of course, Mr. Fowl was significantly out of the loop, but he’d never really been in any loop regarding his son. At least with Myles and Beckett, he could trust that Juliet was enough of a distraction from Artemis’ second leave of the family. Both the boys had noticed, of course, that their brother was gone again, but they were too dazzled by the newness of Juliet to ask either their mother or him about where Artemis was.

Butler leaned back in his chair, looking out of his room’s window at the sunlight. The clouds had cleared for the first time in a while, and the Fowl estate sprawled out across the surrounding acres of land. The wing that his room was in faced the old forest on the grounds, and he could just about make out the distant scene of Juliet and the boys by the pond at the edge of the trees. Juliet appeared to be allowing Becket to sit on her shoulders while Myles sat on the grass and looked at the water.

He smiled to himself, feeling the lines under his eyes crease upwards. From a distance, she could have been their older sister. Pulling his eyes away from the glass, he glanced back at the inside of the room. He sighed. Rolling his shoulders, he reached for the book he’d set down on his coffee table last night.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ The manor was quiet. Juliet paused at the bottom of the staircase, hand ghosting over the handrail. If she looked close enough, she could make out the scuffs that Artemis and her brother weren’t quite able to get out of the wall after the troll wrecked the hallway during the hostage situation. She exhaled slightly, a grin quirking the sides of her mouth upwards as she imagined Artemis getting snippy over her usage of ‘hostage situation’. “Please, Juliet,” she remembered him sighing a while back. “It’s rude to leave out the nuance of it all like that”.

She tightened her grip on the banister. Slowly, Juliet made her way up towards her room.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

There was a knock on the door. Butler set his book on his lap.

“Come in,” he called out, fully prepared to see Angeline.

The door opened cautiously, and there was Juliet, her hand lingering on the doorknob.

“Hey,” she scuffed her feet against the carpet. Butler blinked.

“Er, hi.”

They both stood there, self-consciously waiting for the other to say something.

“I took the twins outside.”

“I saw. They seemed to have a good time.”

Juliet shrugged, finally walking all the way in to the room. Letting the door close slowly behind her, she sat down gently on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I guess. They like the pond. I remember liking getting into whatever was muddiest on the property when I was their age.”

He grinned. Butler remembered taking Juliet outside to run before dark when she was young — she’d always had a wild child energy to her.

“Beckett reminds me of you,” he smiled. “He’s very determined to find trouble somewhere on the grounds I’ve worked so hard at child-proofing.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “They’re both troublemakers.”

“True,” Butler laughed, leaning back in his chair. Juliet grinned. She stretched slightly, flopping back onto the bed.

“It’s weird being back,” she sighed. “Like, I’m back in my old room, and what’s still up on the wall? The Spice Girls poster I had when I was, what, eight? It’s like a time capsule I don’t even want.”

“I’m sure most twenty-somethings coming back from university feel the same way about seeing the stuff they plastered up all over their room when they were younger,” he chuckled softly.

At that, she sat back up to look at him, putting her weight on her right arm. “I’m not most twenty-somethings, though. I didn’t even go to uni—“

Butler scrunched his face up in confusion. “Do you even want to go to uni?”

Juliet groaned, gripping the duvet in annoyance. “I don’t know if I want to go to uni, that’s the thing! I thought I wanted to go to America, be a wrestler, but then something happened with Artemis. And, a-and I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria with Mulch, and you know what I realized? I’d tried professional wrestling, and now I was bored! I love wrestling! I love my teammates! I love traveling and seeing new people, and getting to be Juliet instead of Juliet Butler. But I still woke up each day loving the gig a little less than I did the night before, and I can’t live like that. You know that, Dom.”

Juliet’s eyes were shining, and she loosened her grip on the bed sheets. Butler set his book down gently on the floor. Standing slowly, his knees cursing him, he moved to sit next to her.

“I missed you,” he said simply. “I’m sorry about America.”

She reached over, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I missed you, too.”

“I want you to know that you can stay as long as you need. I can also help you find an apartment nearby if what you need to is to be here without being here, if that makes sense.”

Juliet let out a small grin, retracting her hand from his shoulder to rub the wetness from her eyes. “I like my old room, but thanks.”

She grabbed a pillow, holding it on her lap and looking up at the ceiling pensively. “I don’t want to just be a Butler for Myles and Beckett, though. That’s never going to be me, I know that.”

“I know. I think the Fowls know that, too.”

Juliet nodded earnestly. “Cool. That’s good.”

“Thank you for talking to me about this, by the way,” Butler sighed, looking at her.

“I don’t care what happens — at the end of the day, I’m still your older brother. I want you to let me in when you’re hurting—“ Juliet scoffed, but he continued. “I know you’re not a child anymore, I know that! But I hate the idea of you feeling as though you have to go it alone because you need to prove something to the world,” he finished, eyes pleading.

The two of them sat in silence, the sound of birds outside filtering into the room the only noise in the room. Finally, Juliet sighed, leveling her gaze on him.

“Okay.”

He started. “O-okay?”

She snorted, throwing her pillow at him. “Yeah, okay, nerd. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Butler caught the pillow, laughing incredulously. “Okay!”

Suddenly, Juliet’s eyes widened. “I still have to tell my manager that I’m dropping out, shit”

Butler stared at her. “You didn’t tell him?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I think he knows, considering it’s been, what, a couple of weeks by now? But after you showed up,” she jabbed him with a finger pointedly. “I was so caught up in whatever end-of-the-world business Artemis had gotten us caught up in that I never gave my ‘official’ two-weeks notice, or whatever.”

Butler sat there in silence for a moment, thinking. “I… don’t think you should call him, actually.”

“Me neither.”

“I think he’s going to be pissed.”

“Wow, really? Because I think he’ll be psyched one of the best acts in the group just dropped out without letting him know. Dom, obviously I’m gonna get yelled at by him if I so much as look at my phone.”

A side of Butler’s mouth quirked upwards. “One of the best acts?”

Juliet sniffed. “I was being humble. I’m a Butler, it’s clear I’m the best.”

At that, he laughed, and she shoved him. “Shut up! I am going to let him know eventually. I’m telling Sam that I’m not rejoining the troupe tonight—”

“Sam?” Butler frowned, and Juliet stuck her tongue out at him.

“Don’t be annoying. She’s my teammate. You saw her and I sparring before you dragged me off to Haven. We’re scheduled for matches together, so she, out of everybody, deserves to know first about my decision,” she chided.

“I wasn’t prying!” Butler said defensively.

“Fiiiine, you weren’t prying,” Juliet teased. Butler rolled his eyes.

“So, she’s your teammate. That’s nice! I’m glad you have friends in the troupe.” Butler tossed the pillow back to its original place on his bed.

“Yeah, it is nice. She’s cool, you’d like her. It’s… stupid, but I already kind of miss her,” Juliet’s tone softened. Butler’s eyes widened slightly. Oh.

“You could ask her to visit sometime, if you’d like,” he offered, trying to be nonchalant.

Juliet hummed. “Maybe. I’ll see how things go tonight with her.”

With that, she stood up from the bed. “I’m going to get ready for dinner. I think we’ve had enough awkward sibling heart-to-heart conversations for today,” she grinned, and Butler knew that eventually, things would be okay. Maybe they wouldn’t go back to normal, but that was okay. He had his sister back.

Pausing at the door, Juliet turned to face him. “It’s nice to be back home with you, Dom.”

He smiled. “Love you, too, Jules”

Juliet grinned, closing the door after her, and Butler was left alone. The sun was starting to get low in the sky, and the light cast shadows across his room.

He picked up his book again, running his fingers down the spine to stop at the name of the author. Violet Tsirblou. The book was, in all honesty, quite bad. The dialogue was awkward, the plot stilted, and the characters alien-feeling. Butler felt the smile lines on his face deepen. Artemis must have written it when he was about ten.

Butler put his hand on the window sill, his gaze falling on the pond. Myles and Beckett. Artemis and Juliet.

It would all be okay, in the end. It had to be. Butler let his hand fall from the sill. Sitting back down tiredly, he opened the book to where he had left it.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 6

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 |

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) | August Walker x ofc Suzy

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Dark themes, rough oral sex, gagging, hinted anal, mentions of rough sex, and August twisted thoughts.  

A/N: The adventures of August and Ingvild continue 💖 thanks again for reading and giving me your feedback, it keeps me fueled so keep it up :D! Of course thanks @agniavateira​ for editing my work and being my muse.

Title: Stargazer

The love boat sets sail through the icy water of the North Sea. The apostle, Knight_of_Cockn3ss, or whatever that kid’s name is, wasn’t joking when he mentioned a romantic cruise.

The traitorous sun hangs mid-sky as August trails across the deck. A beige fedora covers his dark curls and a matching cream-coloured suit over his sturdy body. In his right hand rests his laptop, he is not daring to leave it out of sight even for a minute. His eyes observe the surroundings; he must be the only single person on this trip, surrounded by timid couples on the verge of divorce and sugar daddies with their sugar babies.

‘At least the young girls are pretty.’ August greets a tall blonde, holding one hand behind his back and giving her a small bow before continuing on his way.

He’ll have to endure this trip for a couple more days, which isn’t ideal by any means, but he can’t risk getting caught or killed. Airports all over the world are swarming with security guards, agents, and assassins on really fucking high alert by now, all of them waiting for him.

The irony of the situation is that a long time ago used to be one of them. A wanted target on a scale of world catastrophe would spin a web of agents worldwide and Agent Walker would always get there first. That’s why they called him “The Hammer” - he nailed each target on the head, among other things.

No one cared about torture and extreme violence. He once brought back a target in such a dire condition that Erica was forced to send him to psych evaluation. He bluntly told the psychiatrist he enjoys the violence for no particular reason why, and then fucked her over the desk.

He scoffs at the memory, breaking into a wolfish grin.

Standing on the rail, his gaze is glued to the blue horizon, following the trail of sea-foam left by the boat as it slices through the water, disturbing the peaceful life beneath the sea. Slowly, his chaotic mind begins to drift, reveries of the CIA reminding him of her.

Golden locks of hair glow like hot sand on a summer day. Sweetly, she jokes about buying a yacht, telling Erica to fuck off so they can leave everything behind, and sail into freedom.

Memories are perfidious. Why has she been on his mind so much as of late? She’s been dead for years, flesh eaten by worms and the insects.

She is no more but a sack of rotting bones.

To condemn her memory is more than she deserves.

August’s nostrils flare. For whatever reason, his mind wanders to the girl who lived. Gently snorting, he shakes his head, remembering the condition of how he left ‘poor little’ Ingvild; half-naked, wrists tied up to the bed, probably crying to whatever father figure she has.

After what he did to her, she’ll probably retire from Icarus.

“I’m coming after you,” he mimics her voice in his head, and laughs while making his way toward the stack of beach lounge chairs. The section is nearly empty as most of the lovebirds are dinning in the main hall and unlike the degenerated visitors of this cruise, he is here solely on business.

Much work is left to be done. “Knight” has promised to meet him in London’s sky tower, suggesting he may or may not have a source of plutonium. Whether he’s a broker, a source, or a possible troll matters very little to a man on the run. Desperate times are ahead; he may be sticking his neck out, might be stepping into an obvious trap, but choice is scarce at the moment.

‘This is not the type of anarchy I dreamed of.’

That little girl, Ingvild, was the first to come. There will be others, endless more until the world will fall apart.  

“I’ll keep coming after you.” Her voice hinges on his troubled mind.

He opens his laptop with a groan, trying to ignore the truth that lies on his mind like a pile of heavy brick.

‘You should have left her pretty face to die in the bottom of the lake.’

“Oh, but to miss out on all the fun that followed in that bedroom?” he speaks to himself quietly, unlocking his laptop with a retinal scan.

Luckily, his old drive is still accessible on the cloud he encrypted. Years of work and dirt collected on the CIA and the government nestles on a single server. The ugly truth, the lies, the corruptness. Thick and black like a pit filled of tar.

Erica Sloane has her own dedicated special folder. Personal vendetta was never on his agenda, it was never about revenge, it was about a cause but sweet Erica deserves whatever damnation he could think of. He hopes that when he detonates his nuclear bombs, that once this world falls apart, she’ll sit on a front-row seat to see her failures raining down like fire from the sky.

A vicious smirk paints his face as his fingertips slide onto the touchpad. August scans through his many folders, seeking a specific one regarding illegal weapon deals. It would be a lovely afternoon at the CIA had one of these recordings or documents would find their way to the public eye.

August slides the cursor around, entering one of the CIA’s subfolders when his smile fades away.

He thought he deleted her folder a long time ago, but it seems like mistakenly, he placed it in another section instead.

And now here it is. A name he thought he’d never see again: Lacey.

Strange, he hardly remembers what she looked like. How long has it been? Six? Seven years ago? In his dreams, she’s nothing but a rotting corpse, but the mind has a tendency to alter one’s memory, doesn’t it?

Was she even sweet at all?

‘Manipulation was her strongest trait anyway.’

Without mustering a mother breath, he deletes the folder, and proceeds to search for the files he means to leak. He muses if they caught up with the notion that it was him who poisoned the well this entire time. Years of stirring chaos while sitting with his laptop of his bed while Sloane and her high-ranking management freaked out and did all that’s in their power to cover shit up.

It was so hard to keep a poker face and pretend he is trying to help. One particular time, he got so ecstatic he had to go and jack off in the men’s room.  

‘That was a good one.’

Something abruptly disturbs his attention, making his heart nearly drop.

‘It can’t be, is that...?’

A petite brunette passes through the lounge, joyfully trodding along the deck. Her hair is tucked back into a ponytail. No, it can’t be her, not in the situation he left her at. By what sort of dark magic would she exactly appear here out of nowhere?

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the little Valkyrie turns out to be some sort of a witch.’

The brunette feels his gaze upon her figure and turns. He is met with a brown, warm gaze, rather than the sharp icy lustre that is Ingvild’s trademark. Less pretty as well, but looks about the same age, perhaps a year or two younger.

Another sugar baby, weary and discontent.

August realises he must have been staring with a dumbfounded look as she decides to smile back and make her way to him.

“Good afternoon,” she greets in a Midwestern accent. August’s eyes focus on her painted lips and in his mind, he imagines wiping that cotton candy pink lipstick by his thumb.

“Afternoon,” he smiles kindly, tipping his fedora with a welcoming bow.

Always the gentleman.

The young woman moves to sit on the seat in front of him, crossing her legs together as she takes in his sight. She observes and assesses how old he is and how much money he must own.

Probably looking for a new target.

‘Not old enough to be your daddy, but you can still call me that if it floats your boat.’

“Are you a secret agent?” She jokes, peering at his laptop before he smooths his hand on the lid to shuts it. He pretends to be intrigued by her senseless, obvious seduction when his mind once again forced him to go back and compare her to living-dead girl.

It seems like he can’t get away from her. Perhaps her threats were a curse? Even halfway across the sea, this total stranger reignites his curiosity.

‘Does Ingvild has any values? Any empathy toward others?’

She did experience fear in those little moments when his knife penetrated her soft little gut - that look in her eyes; like a virgin, fucked extremely rough for the very first time.

Thinking of those big, terrified eyes light up a snarl on his bewhiskered lip.

There was an inch of vulnerability in that sweet farewell kiss, a sense lost look on her face as if she couldn’t fit that emotion into any drawer inside her brain. It made her look so much more beautiful.

He wonders what she would have looked like if he went ahead with his besser urges and fucked her.

‘Maybe she’d finally break into tears. Fuck, I’d love to see her cry.’

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He interrupts the sassy brunette as she speaks of Lord-knows-what. It seems that she doesn’t even realise he wasn't listening to her for the last 5 minutes she been babbling . The girl smiles sweetly, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. The diamond bracelet that decorated her wrist dangles as she does.

“Suzy.”

“Suzy,” August repeats and smiles charmingly before giving his lips a quick flick of a tongue. “Would you like to join me in my room?”

The brunette pretends to blush beneath the layers of foundation on her face and fakes an argument inside her mind as if she actually considers refusing his bold suggestion.

~*~

Back in his room, he pushes the petite brunette to her knees. He wipes away her makeup, smearing the pink paint with the crudeness of thumb. Suzy giggles, thinking she probably had men do worse than that by now.

‘Oh, darling, we haven’t even started yet.’

August’s large hand traces her rounded face, knuckles brushing against her cheek tenderly while running down to meet her lips again.

“Open up sweetheart,” he commands in a relaxed voice, his index finger demanding entrance to her velvety mouth. She spreads her lips open slowly, allowing him to slip in his long digit to explore the wet cavern while his thumb caresses her chin. Much to his delight, she sucks on his finger obediently, moaning as he slowly pumps in and out of her hot mouth.

“Good girl,” he praises, his free hand reaching to unbuckle his belt urgently and free his aching cock from his trousers. He tugs at himself for a second, staring how she suckles on his finger with fake devotion. She probably do want his cock, but it’s his money that she’d care for more later.

‘Oh, how disappointed you are going to be once I’m off this boat, baby.’

“How about I’ll fuck that pretty little throat, hmm?” August asks and without waiting for an answer, pulls his soaked finger away and clasps his hand around the hollows of her cheeks instead, forcing her to keep her mouth open.

She voices no protest, only her eyes staring at him wide and helpless. He pays no attention, preferring the sight of his cock sliding in between those puffy lips and pushing into the warm depths instead. A prolong groan slips out of his mouth, emphasising the relief of finally getting his dick wet.

Usually, he loves to watch, yet he lets his eyes roll back and shuts them tightly this time while she in the background. It only makes him fuck her throat more vigorously, his hands cradling and saddling her head, forcing her to meet the violent thrust of his hips.

“Don’t touch me,” he rasps breathlessly, as her her dirty paws snake for his waist. Terrified, she pulls away, intimidated by his voice. August’s eyes remain shut yet he can feel the wetness on her cheeks as his thumbs dig into them. Those tears are enough to send him over the edge, and he comes into her throat without any warning, grunting a couple of times and lingering inside her mouth to make sure she’ll swallow him clean.

‘That’s right little Valkyrie angel, you’ll take what I’ll give you.’

The mists of fantasy fade as August blinks his eyes open. Debunked by the plastic-type of woman. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, impressed by the mascara that’s smeared beneath Suzy’s now glassy red eyes. He wipes her lower lip clean and then gives her chin a gentle pinch with a soft grin.

Suzy gives out a weak smile in return, trying to look satisfied while remaining on her knees. He can tell that her little brain is pretty much half-through into realising she made a mistake by following the devil into his room.

Tall and menacing, he looks at her drenched by vile mischief. August moves to sit on the queen sized bed, petting the empty spot next to him. She follows, fighting her instinct to put a hand on his knee as she is used to, afraid that he will bark at her again.

“Tell me, Suzy,” he coaxes, reaching for the wallet in his pocket and drawing out a Trojan condom.

“Have you ever tried anal sex?”

****

“Ingvild,” the old man calls her name once he brings her to her new home. It’s a simple, minimalist apartment with naked walls and generic black IKEA furniture.

Silent, she peers at him, holding her small luggage between sinewy fingers. Everything that she possesses in the world is in that suitcase; a bunch of plaid skirts, white buttoned shirts, and a few books about fairies and monsters.

This man called Liam, is he to be her new father? He never even offered her a smile and hardly bothers looking into her eyes. Instead he grunts and sighs while making his way around the house and gesturing for her to follow.

At least he is kinder than Mother Superior. At least in here, no girl is going to pick any fights with her and get her into trouble.

“This is your room,” Liam gestures. The pubescent girl sneaks closer, peeking inside with curiosity. It’s not what someone would call a girl’s room by any means, very much like the rooms they had at the orphanage. It contains a single bed with a thin mattress and white metal bars and on the bed rest some casual clothes for her to wear.

At least she won’t have to wear skirts anymore.

As little Ingvild continues to scan the room, she picks on a small library housing some books and a learning desk with a computer. Probably for her to gain some knowledge of the world. She never had any of that at the orphanage, just the bible and the “forbidden” books of fairytales she stole from one of the nuns.

“Today you can rest,” Liam speaks, watching the little girl as she moves to place her luggage inside and sits on the bed.

“Tomorrow, you will start your first day of training.”

‘Training?’

Ingvild says nothing, only glares at him back quietly. It’s quite clear no woman is present in the house which makes her wonder; the orphanage doesn’t allow single parents to adopt, especially not men. Was Mother Superior this desperate to get rid of her that she decided to throw her at the first person who asked?

“Just so we’re clear, girl,” Liam grumbles, “I am not your father. You call me Liam and that’s that.”

She nods silently and watches him leave the room, shutting the door behind. Sighing, she falls back to the mattress, her silver eyes fixing at the ceiling in wonders of what sort of new life has she been sold ito.

“Ingvild...”

A low, velvety voice calls for her again, the mattress dipping, shifting with the weight of the one who joins her. As she turns her face aside, she is met with hungry eyes and a smile so cold it makes her heart shrivel.

August.

*~*

A loud thud wakes her with a sharp inhale. Though her face remain stoic, quickly readjusting to the sight of moving ground as the plane’s wheels make their landing. ‘Arrogant August Walker, invading my dreams’, she curses but pays no more thought to why he was there. Analysing dreams was never her thing. They were just memories of random things that happened to her in her childhood and August is no different as he had been on her mind for the last 72 hours.

He was a job.

One that she needed to get over with.

Liam was at her throat with this one specifically, nagging her like an old shrew. He wasn’t used for her taking her time with it, not his special girl.

Massaging her strained neck, she waits for the last person to leave the plane, observing the empty cabin and noticing how used it appears with all the crumpled, empty snack bags lying on the floor.

‘Ungrateful’, she thinks before exiting her seat and tip-toeing to get her luggage.

The arrivals terminal is infested with agents. Having been trained for years, she sees right through their casual attire, so fake they almost look like B-movie actors. It’s those badly selected outfits and their observant gazes - eyes obsessively fixed on every gate. Every airport in the world must be the same right now, desperate to catch this nightmare of a terrorist.

‘As if he would be stupid enough to travel by plane.’

With a high profile target like August on the loose, it almost feels like the world is on the brink of war.

‘Is that what he wants? To be an anarchistic god that plows chaos everywhere?’

Maybe that’s why he gave her back her life, to humiliate her, to show her how easily he can twist everyone’s life and disrupt the world people know.

‘Mephisto, Lucifer, Hades, Hel.’

“Remember that you’re only alive because I have allowed it.”

A sudden shard of pain sears through her torso, the wound reacting to the phantasm of his low timbre which plays in her mind. It makes her slow on her steps and chews on her inner cheek to suppress a moan that has been begging to escape her lips since yesterday afternoon.

“August Walker”, the name rolls on the tip of her tongue.

Her very first failure, the very first man who killed her.

It almost feels like a bond now, intimate and twisted. August went deeper than any other man ever did - he fucked her internal organs.

‘Is that is why you “performed” for him in the shower? Why you thought about him, slipping inside you with his cock rather than his knife?’

Ingvild huffs tenderly and passes in-between a couple reuniting with passion, her shoulder sharply bumping against the woman, who yells at her while she remains indifferent, never bothering to look back.

Putting on her shades, she continues to head for the exit. The wound in her gut throbs even further, all of a sudden and just when she is tempted to give into the pain and acknowledge it, the new mobile device in her jacket’s pocket begins to vibrate.

Liam, who else?

“Papa?” She answers, the big exit sign finally flickering in front of her eyes.

She can see Liam rolling his eyes without having to see his grumpy old face.

“What progress do you hope to make with this lead? Someone says they saw him in Singapore yesterday, you should be following these threads instead.”

Ingvild holds her breath, knowing very well the lead is false. August was with her a night ago, so close she tasted him, so near his fingers dug deep into her flesh, leaving an imprint on her bones and even though there is something quite demonic about him, she doubts he can be at two different places at once.

“I need access to his world, I need to pick up the clues,” she explains, yet the sad truth is that she has no idea what to look for. August is not a rookie idiot, he did a fine job leaving zero clues back at the bed&breakfast room they “shared”. Not even the receptionist who ogled her oddly when she left could tell her where he was heading.  

“Just get it done, Ingvild. You’re acting like a child, this isn’t like you,” Liam mutters before hanging up.

‘He is right, this isn’t like you.’

Ingvild feels hooks clutching her guts, not just the pain August inflicted upon her, but something deeper, something desperate, leaving a void in that same spot. The fact that he slipped between her fingers seems to torments, just as much as the fact that she lied to Liam for the first time. It makes her feel like a rebellious teenager. She never keeps secrets from him and there she is, lying through every word.

Absentmindedly, her fingers press against her lips as she exits the airport.

~*~

The address led her to a small suburban house in southern London. It’s the type of house that has large glass windows where anyone standing outside can ogle freely. Rich people houses, as she likes to call it. She had a few missions in the past with people living in homes like this one - always an easy kill.

A blond woman meanders about inside the house, wearing a grey silk nightgown, preparing for bedtime probably. According to Walker’s file, she’s the most recent ex - Sydney. They broke up a couple of months before he decided to go on what he thought would be his final mission, his deathstrike.

‘If only.’

Glancing from the gravel path that leads to large metal doors, she learns the woman’s delicate manoeuvres, her mind reciting every graceful gestures as she crouches down to place food for a large Maine coon cat.

‘Is that the type of woman he likes?’

August would strikes her as a man who would fuck anything with a heartbeat but he did have more than a few relationships. She can’t help but wonder if he has a type, noticing how Sydney is more of a woman than a girl; solid income, big name lawyer, a woman who can take care of herself, a woman to start a family with.

Not that she imagines Walker starting a family anytime soon.

She is pretty too, with her mid-length straight golden hair, bright eyes and a shapely body. Ingvild looks at her own outfit: jeans, sneakers and a black sleeved shirt, nowhere as classy as beautiful Sydney.

The hour is late, still she walks toward the door and rings the bell.

“Can I help you?”

Ingvild is greeted by green eyes and a subtle Welsh accent. She gives her one of her fake smiles, trying to look as charming and pleasant as a sweet doll.

“Sydney Bedford?” She asks, while briefly scanning her body. She tries to imagine what August liked about her the most; her figure? Her angelic face? Her emerald stare?

“I have some questions about August Walker, he used to…”

Sydney shakes her head vehemently, waving her hands in the air. Something in her eyes drastically changes the moment the name “August” slaps her across the face.

“Are you MI6!? Please, I don’t want to speak about that psychotic loser anymore.”

Ingvild smiles calmly, a soft chuckle leaving her throat.

“Oh you see, he disappeared…”

“Good riddance!” Sydney replies, her eyes filling with anger, her face turning red within seconds. “Listen. I already told them everything I know.”

“Please,” Ingvild begs, batting her long lashes and tilting her head like a cute little kitten. “I’m new in this and my superior will be mad if I don’t at least speak to you. May I please come in? It’s important for my investigation.”

The same childlike charm that works on men might as well work on women, for different reasons in this occasion. Sydney is a single 36-38-year old woman who lives alone with her cat.

She must have wanted a family, perhaps with Walker, no wonder she’s furious.

Leaning against the door frame, Sydney scrutinises the young girl, believing she is younger than she really is with that pale smooth face and big innocent greyish eyes.  

“Come on in, dear.” She opens the door wide, letting Ingvild step inside before closing it behind her.

The main entrance leads into a large living room, furnished with a black leather sofas and a glass coffee table. She owns a TV that is larger than Ingvild's entire living room and the walls are moulded with grey bricks, shiny from some cut stone.

Ingvild imagines how lovely it would feel to crack the shimmering stone with August’s skull.

“Would you like some tea?” Sydney offers while heading toward her luxurious kitchen.

“Please,” Ingvild answers, walking around the house and examining every corner to learn of the woman who invited her in. She nearly stumbles as the large cat rubs against her foot. “Oh,” she exclaims, lowering herself to pick the chubby feline to her arms.

She never owned a pet. Liam said it’s unnecessary.

“So like I said,” Sydney calls from the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. “I don’t know anything about August and where he is. All I can tell you is that he was weird.”

“Weird? How?” Ingvild asks, stroking the cat behind his ears and while it purr against her chest.

Sydney places two mugs on the black marble counter in the kitchen and opens a cabinet, looking for some tea bags. “He would disappear and then return after weeks, telling me not to ask any questions. Then, he would go away and come back in crazy hours. He was a gentleman of course but arrogant and demanding, never taking no for an answer.”

Ingvild turns to look at Sydney, arching her eyebrow as if she is surprised to learn this about the man who stabbed and drowned her in an icy lake. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sydney shouts back, her chest heaving as she throws the bags into the mugs and turns toward Ingvild.

“Everything had to go his way, and I won’t be surprised if he had a mistress or another family, or god! Maybe an illegal drug practice.”

The cat jumps down from Ingvild’s embrace, and she brushes the grey hairs off her black shirt. “What makes you think this way?”

“Like I said; disappearing in the middle of the night, coming back... I knew something was off so I went and... wait I… I shouldn’t tell you this, you’re an agent!” Sydney looks around her, as if she’s afraid someone might be listening to their conversation.

Ingvild takes a step forward into the kitchen, her grey eyes seeking Sydney’s, giving her a warm, kind smile. “You can tell me anything Sydney, you are not in danger, I promise. We just want to locate Walker, he hasn't reported to HQ in a while.”

Sydney observes her gaze, trying to determine her personality. She thinks the young woman seem gentle with those unique eyes and the hair that’s tucked back to a strict ponytail.

“I had him traced,” she whispers. “I know I wasn’t supposed to because he is CIA, and trust me I was scared but I had to know.”

“How did you do that?” Ingvild asks, tilting her head with curiosity and slight disbelief. It seems odd that a man like Walker was bugged by some dumb lawyer woman.

“I did his laundry, it wasn’t hard to hide something inside the pocket of his jacket. I mean, inside the fabric, where he can’t find it.”

Ingvild can’t help but let out a small snort, amused by the fact that the infamous CIA agent got made so easily. She covers her mouth with her fist, shyly smiling into it, but it’s noticed by Sydney who stands in front of her, staring oddly.

“Where would he go?”

“Some place in South Kensington, almost every day for the last month of our relationship. He would vanish there for hours and then come back. I have the address, hold on.” Sydney leaves the kitchen and walks through a long corridor.

Not bothering with politeness, Ingvild follows her, easy off her feet like the big grey cat, carefully exploring this new territory. She imagines the fights August would have with this woman and then the passionate sex afterwards while her hand runs against the texture of the garnet.

“Oh!” Sydney exclaims, confused to see Ingvild in the doorway of her bedroom. The young woman looks around curiously, trying to find any memorabilia from August; a photo, a clothing article, man cologne. It seems like he was never even been here, though there is a certain coldness in this room that feels strangely familiar.

‘No, not August, his touch is warm.’

“He did trading or something,” Sydney says as she hands her over a small yellow note that was hidden in her purse. It has the address to August’s “secret lover”.

Ingvild takes the notes, memorizing the address before placing it in her jeans pocket. “Trading? Can you elaborate?”

She shrugs. “He asked me to not disturb him while he was doing some dealing, I don’t know what it was… it looked fishy but it might just be CIA stuff.”

Ingvild nods silently, scanning the room again and again and eventually taking in the sight of the empty bed. Her mind fills in the gaps, painting an image of August fucking Sydney into oblivion, his muscular body ramming into hers, one leg held over his shoulder while the blond little bitch screams in ecstasy.

“How was he in bed? Would you say he performed well?” Ingvild asks, her eyes gesturing toward the mattress.

Sydney frowns, giving her a slight repulsed face as she finds her question remarkably rude.

“How is this relevant to the investigation?”

She means to berate her when she witnesses Ingvild’s kind smile growing remarkably cold.

The young woman remains silent, taking a step closer and making Sydney almost stumble back as sudden fear creeps in. Grey frigid eyes, like icy shards, her nostrils slightly flares as she catches up the scent of her expensive perfume.

“How is this relevant to the MI6?!” Sydney asks again, trying to dismiss the tension yet continues to draw distance from the young agent.

“I never said I am MI6.”

Sydney’s back hits the wall with a soft thud, she attempts to flee but Ingvild’s hands lock around her shoulders, forcing her against the wall with a thud. As small as this woman is, she is way stronger than she appears.

“How was he in bed?” she repeats, her voice becoming more demanding while her glare threatening to spear into Sydney’s skull. “Would you say he satisfies you?”

Puny gasps peal from Sydney’s mouth, her green eyes becoming moist with pure fear.

“Please, don’t... He was... Rough.”

“Bondage?”

“He... he..he choked me,” she answers in a trembling voice, her lower lip quivering, much to Ingvild’s delight.

“He was too rough, he was big and he didn’t care, it was as if he enjoyed my pain...”

Ingvild licks her bottom lip, imagining Sydney thrown on the bed with August treating her like a rag doll, wrecking her completely. Bruises left everywhere, tattoos on her skin for the world to see this fine artist’s work. A cold flame licks at her spine, crawling down to the small of her back.

She’s uncertain why.

“Would you say he loved you?”

Sydney’s peers at her quietly, thinking of her answer for a few seconds while Ingvild’s fingers bury into her collarbone, voicelessly demanding a response.

“August Walker is incapable of love. He is dead inside.”

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Frenchise

[lone-survivor-six-tales]

Ain’t That A Shot in The Head Ch.5

"You look bored as hell."

Arcade looked up from the faded Programmer's Digest magazine he was reading when Six approached with a bag full of medical supplies for Julie. After helping Julie restock the Followers' supply cache she went to sit down with Arcade who was trying to get ED-E to stop trying to cuddle with him.

"I think he likes you." Six laughed when Arcade almost lost his glasses to a particularly hard nuzzle to the face.

"I wish he didn't. You'd think he thought he was a dog or something." Arcade grumbled, adjusting his glasses while ED-E returned to Six's side.

"Hey speaking of dogs. I'm taking The King's dog to get a new brain. Want to come with?" She asked, giving ED-E a pat on the top of his body. "Since Boone is stuck in bed, I could use the company."

"Why would I want to go galavanting around the desert looking for a brain for a dog?" He asked, brow raised as he stood up, stuffing the magazine in his coat pocket.

"Because you've been reading the same magazine for the past two days and look like you need to shoot something?"

Arcade sighed at the grin on her face. He only knew her for two days now and yet he knew that grin meant she won. "Point taken, let's go."

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

"So let me get this straight." Arcade said, sitting on a stack of tires while Six checked the jar containing the replacement brain for Rex in her bag. Before he could continue, Six piped up with a smirk.

"You? Straight? That's hilarious."

"Shut up before I drink your last sunset sarsaparilla," he replied before continuing. "You have amnesia due to your shot in the head but remember you lived in a vault, most likely in the Capital Wasteland, travelled with a ghoul and most likely traveled with him to New Vegas before getting shot for the package you were delivering."

"That's pretty much it. I don't know for sure if he came with me but I get the feeling that he did. I just hope the bastard that shot me didn't do anything to him." Six sighed, whistling for Rex to return to her side after wandering off to sniff a cactus. Arcade was silent as Six gave Rex some of her water. When Six looked back at him she could see something was troubling him.

"Arcade? You alright?"

Arcade quickly looked up and shook his head, dispersing the thoughts that ran through his head. "Yeah, just thinking." He stood up to join Six and Rex as they continued their walk to Jacobstown where Six found a doctor that could replace Rex's brain. The walk to Jacobstown was mostly quiet save for the usual attack by bandits and creatures which were quickly dealt with by Six and her improved rifle. Soon The silence was broken by Six with a tentative question.

"How did you know you like guys, Arcade?"

The question surprised him, not expecting such a question out of nowhere and it took him a moment before he could reply.

"Can't remember exactly when it happened but I started realizing I enjoyed the companionship of men over women sometime around my twenties. What brought this up?"

Six looked away, kicking a stray pebble that skipped ahead of them before rolling into a hole in the asphalt. "I just remembered something I said in one of my memories. I said something about being forced to have a kid to continue the population. While I definitely didn't like that idea, I felt like there was something I wasn't telling my dad. I mean, I know I like guys and girls but the thought of having a kid with someone I didn't even like? It just felt wrong."

"To be fair if someone shoved me into a room and told me to make a kid I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be up for it either but," Arcade reached out and placed a hand on Six's head, pushing her beret over her eyes and making her yelp at the sudden darkness. "Maybe you're not the type for random one night stands. You could be the type that likes to get to know a person before you sleep with them. Not judging or anything but I'm not the type that likes to talk about my tragic backstory before getting it on."

Six snorted, nudging him in the side with her elbow as she fixed her beret. "Are you sure you're not a psychiatrist? You seem to know just what to say to make me feel better."

"It's only with you, I usually end up saying something to piss someone off more often than not." Arcade nodded to the building that they were slowly approaching. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like it if we finish this and get back to Freeside before it gets dark.

"Sorry Arcade but it'll probably take at least an hour for the doc to replace Rex's brain. We'll probably be camping either here or on the road back."

"Oh goody, I'm so excited I could die." Arcade sighed, following Six as he continued to complain to the laughing woman. Arcade decided to stick with Doctor Henry while Six wandered outside to talk to the nightkin tending to the bighorners. Once Arcade was sure that Six was outside he walked over to the doctor who was busy removing Rex's old brain.

"Hey Henry, I have a question for you. Do you remember any of the old files from some of the vaults the enclave visited?" He asked quietly, making sure no one could hear them.

"I remember a few, terrible experiments Vault-Tec did. Why do you ask?"

"Does the name Charon ring any bells?"

Henry paused for a moment, looking over at Arcade with a concerned expression before returning to his work on Rex. "I remember hearing that name from a vault experiment from Pennsylvania I think. Where did you hear that name?"

"The girl that I'm with is looking for a ghoul with that name. I remember you talked about someone with that name before and wondered if they're the same." Arcade looked out the window, watching Six getting hugged by the nightkin she was talking to.

"I would hope they're not the same. From what I remember from the report, the scientists that were running that vault were slaughtered and the three subjects that were created there escaped. Their goal was to make emotionless slaves that would do whatever their master said. I can't imagine that girl traveling around with a walking killing machine."

"You could be right," Arcade mused, watching Six as she pet one of the bighorners. While he wanted to believe it was just a coincidence, he couldn't help but think the odds of two people with such a unique name was hard to believe unless that person's parents enjoyed reading old world writing.

"Well either way, it's nice to see you again kid, how have you been?" Henry changed the subject as he began the process of transferring brains. Arcade shrugged, moving away from the window to lean against a nearby wall.

"Alright I guess, I'm thinking about traveling around with this courier. She's the one that has been talked about on the radio recently.

"The one shot in the head? I wasn't expecting you to be traveling around with such a celebrity." Henry said sarcastically, making Arcade chuckle.

"Well it beats wandering around the fort for hours on end." Arcade replied, raising an eyebrow when Six returned with the nightkin following in behind her.

"Hey Arcade! Guess who's coming with us!"

"On second thought, the fort might not be too bad."

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

"You should eat more vegetables dear."

"I'm good Lily, thanks."

"Oh you're just like my grandson Jimmy, he always didn't want to eat his vegetables."

Six snickered as she watched Lily try to give Arcade a plate of roasted jalapeno peppers. After relenting and taking two peppers, Lily turned to offer some peppers to Six which gave Arcade a chance to throw them into the darkness surrounding their camp.

"I don't think she realizes eating that many peppers would ruin our insides." Arcade grumbled to Six after Lily offered to take the first watch for the night.

"She's just trying to be helpful. I'm sure she's just happy to be feeding us." Six replied as she set up her bedroll. Arcade set up his next to her and Rex flopped down between them happily.

"I guess. Her trying to scold me reminds me of when my mom used to scold me for spending all my caps on bubblegum as a kid." Arcade mused, laying down and looking up at the stars. Six laughed, imagining a little Arcade trying to sneakily chew bubblegum and getting in trouble when caught.

"I don't remember my mother, I don't think because I lost my memories but I think because she died when I was young. I remember there was some passage she liked but that's all I know about her."

"Revelations 21:6?"

While he couldn't see her face, he knew she was probably looking at him shocked. "When you were unconscious you were talking in your sleep. You mentioned it but that's all we heard." He didn't think she wanted to know that he also heard she wanted to die so he kept that to himself. Six nodded, laying down which Rex took as a sign to lay his head on her stomach.

"Yeah, I don't know why but it feels important. It feels like the more I try to remember, the harder it is to recall." Six raised her hand to the sky, imagining herself reaching for the memories that were just beyond her grasp. She hoped that when she found Charon that he could help her recall her memories. Boone, Arcade and Lily have told her stories about their life but she had nothing to give in return. She wanted to laugh about stupid things she did as a kid or talk about trouble she got into but she couldn't do anything like that with her memories a blank slate.

"Arcade, do you think I'll ever get my memories back?"

"Do you want the optimistic response or the realistic response?"

Six snorted. "Realistic, I can't imagine you talking optimistically."

"Damn right," Arcade chuckled, rolling on his side to face her. "Usually amnesia goes away over time but since yours is due to a gunshot wound there could be a chance that some memories are permanently lost. The fact you've been slowly regaining memories though is a good sign. The fact you're in an unfamiliar environment might also slow the recovery process since there's nothing familiar for you to recall but if you find Charon then talking with him could speed up your recovery."

Arcade could see in the firelight Six smile and a tear streak that slowly began to dry in the evening heat.

"Thanks Arcade, you really should be a psychiatrist."

"If that's the case then that'll be two hundred caps."

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

Boone raised an eyebrow as Six entered the fort followed by Arcade, ED-E, Rex and Lily. While Arcade went to talk to Lily, Six headed over to Boone with a grin on her face.

"Looks like you found a few friends," Boone commented, looking down at Rex who walked over to sniff Boone's hand. He gave the furry part of Rex's back a pat which made the dog wag his tail excitedly.

"Yup, plus I got enough caps to get us a passport into the strip. How are your wounds?" Six asked, noticing that he was wearing his usual white shirt again and standing pretty well without needing support.

"I just got the all clear. I'll be good to go when you're ready." Boone replied, making Six grin.

"Great, also I ran into a trader and got you this." She dug into her bag and pulled out a rifle scope. Boone didn't hide his surprise as she passed the item to him. "I remember you mentioned that your scope lens was cracked and the trader said this should fit your rifle."

Boone didn't know what to say and silently took the item and placed it in his bag. After a few moments he looked back at Six who was shouting at Arcade to hurry up so they could go.

"Thanks."

While he said it softly he could see Six's smile widen as she looked back at Boone. "Let's get going."

"I've got your back."

[mystech-master]

F/GO High School/Modern AU BS

Me and @rex101111 have been talking about a modern/HS AU ft. as many Chaldean servants as possible. Here are the ideas we came up with (I am pretty much cut and pasting our message convo, so this is a mixture of both me and Rex's ideas):

Gil is the douchbag Senior everyone hates but his dad owns the school or whatever so he can do whatever he wants. The only decent person who willingly hangs out with him is his childhood friend Enkidu who's hoping he can un-douch his bro. He has kid Gil as his little brother and Caster Gil as his older bro who both agree that he sucks (Gil is the loser middle child of the family), Caster Gil wonders what Enkidu sees in his shit head brother. "He's too good for you." "Blow it out your ass." "One day he's going to wise up, see how much of a shit you are, and when you're all alone don't come crying to me." Caster Gil is in college studying political science, Kid Gil goes to a fancy boarding school. Archer Gil goofs off and throws parties

Scathach is a swimming class teacher, mainly b/c I recall underwater training being a part of Cu's regiment under her tutelage. People were jealous of the Cus for like two seconds when they find out the swim teacher is their mom, then they see her having them do an extra twenty laps and ignoring when OG Cu starts floating in the water. "CU DIED!" "YOU'RE NOT HUMAN!" while Scathach is like "you have two seconds to stop playing around before I ACTUALLY drown you" and he's back to doing laps.

Yeah with 4-5 Cus (if you count Setanta from Arcade) that is like 5 brothers.

Nightingale as school nurse, she is friends with Asclepius who works at a hospital associated with the school (strictly professional, but the students think otherwise).

Side note, keep in mind you can have multiple servants be the same type of teacher, just for different classes/grades.

King Hassan is the old Religious History teacher. Every one thinks he's older then the rock is the school is made out of. He has a scary face and a scarier voice but most students consider him the most fair and patient teacher in the whole school. He always gets a lot of food gifts before Ramadan form the students. (A few students, such as the Guda twins and Mash, call him gramps.) The other Hassans are his grandkids, like actual grandkids. He's super strict with them because he expects a lot from them. He always praises them when they do well though. He made sure they ALL got into his class and they've been living in fear ever since. They love their grandpa but by Allah they know not to disappoint him. The only one to ever get out of anything is kid Hassan (one of the hundred face). Cursed Arm is oldest, then Asako (the main hundred face), then Serenity.

"I am very disappointed in ALL of you, have you all lost your heads? I swear I-*to kid Hassan*-ah no Habibi not you you're fine here have a candy-*back to the rest*-I KNOW you're better than this!"

VERY traditional guy, Cursed Arm mutters "Oh for God's sake" while doing a pop quiz and King Hassan looms over him and growls, "No Blaspheming In This Class Room"

For the various Artoria/Arturias, I imagined Lancer and Lancer Alter being sisters, so Saber Alter is a cousin. That leaves everyone else to just be sisters with one brother. Mother Lartoria owns a casino and gas her own yacht in reference to the summer event where she became a Ruler. If you want MHX could be a part of the family as a massive fucking Star Wars nerd. MHXX and MHX Alter are her mom and sister (so MHXX is a third sister for the two Lancer Artorias)

For Irisviel, I remember in one of the Nero Fest things that she was called Therapist Iri. Maybe she starts to get into that b/c she wants to help her adoptive son Shirou (instead of a big fire like in Zero it can be an orphanage fire thing, similar situation but a much smaller scale) , so she is the school therapist/psychiatrist. Like Maruki in P5 Royal.

Iskandar died in his 30s, Waver is around his 30s as Lord El Melloi II. The two are old college friends who still hang out and Alexander is Iskandar’s kid.

If you guys want you can see this as the two being gay dads since I know that ship is popular.

Fran had an abusive father before Babbage and Moriarty got involved. In the og story, Frankenstien has a scientific mindset like his creator, here Fran has a talent in the field, but she also hates it b/c it reminds her of him. Like imagine being talented at the thing your abusive parent was good at/known for. Moriarty tried to get it into her that SHE'S the one with the talent, not her college dropout bum of a father, "From you tell me of him Victor couldn't engineer his way out of an argument with a cat, you have a magnificent mind my dear, not letting it flourish to spite him would be a horrible waste...it's your talent, your skill. Not his." He smiles that smile she loves that scares every one but she knows he only smiles like that when he is absolutely convinced of something, "and you can out perform him without breaking a sweat."

Moriarty teaches Fran sign language while Babbage teaches her some engineering.

Jekyll is going for a major in medicine with a minor in law (in the actual irl story Dr. Jekyll was a doctor in medicine and law).

For science associated servants, you got da Vinci, Babbage, Edison, and Tesla as possible science teachers.

The Jeanne sisters. Without the Avenger BS, the reason Jalter (or Joan as one series of fics calls her) could hate her here is just inferiority complex and being compared to her perfect saint big sister all her life. Joan does have her talents, based on the summer event an, but again she doesn't acknowledge her own talent b/c of her always being compared to her older sister., in the 7 counterfeit events she is a really good artist. And it is the typical thing of Jeanne actually being scared out of her wits of being less than perfect because of all the expectations thrust on her. She gets one A- and runs to the bathroom crying and Joan has to swallow her pride and actually have a conversation with her sister for the first time in years. Jeanne Alter lily puts up Christmas decorations super early, much to Jeanne Alter/Joan's displeasure.

"IT JUST TURNED NOVEMBER CHILL TF OUT!"

"CHRISTMAS!"

Martha is Jeanne's BF since middle school and has this HUGE dog that scares everyone and growls at anyone expect Martha and Jeanne. She calls him Terry.

Rex loves Penthesilea. and we talked at length about the situation between her and Achilles. Can you not tell that he likes a woman who can kick his ass *gestures to all of his Baiken posts*

Rex's idea: I think they had a fight when they were little and Achilles, being a little shit back then, made fun of her for being a girl, and Penth has been sore about it ever since. She keeps running into big misogynistic meatheads that reminded her of that and she just got angrier over the years. She's a wrestler and can knock out just about every dude in school by herself. Achilles is very regretful about back then and wants to apologize but Penth ain't having any of it.

My idea: I thought they were on opposing HS sports teams and when Achilles handed her ass to her he forgot to drink his respect women juice and then Penth got all pissed.

In this AU, Penth and Hippolyta's dad was a general who taught them how to kick the ass of men twice their size since they were seven or something.

Penth surprises everyone when a festival comes up and she gets picked to be the one to organize everything...and does a spectacular job. Another surprise is that she plans on being a business major when she goes to college (Obligatory Amazoness CEO jokes)

Bedivere is the Arturia Pendragon family butler with a prosthetic arm. He's also the security guard, last guy that tried to steal something or cause trouble got slapped right out of the window he sneaked in from.

Francis Drake and Artoria Alter Lancer are work friends (referencing them both being associated with the Wild Hunt in F/GO's lore).

Beni-Enma is the short and shorter tempered lunch lady, last kid who mouthed off at her during lunch got smacked upside the head with her spoon. She's sweet, but if you're in detention and have to help her in the kitchen she's a mini Gorden Ramsey, "IT'S RAW DECHI!!!" She can also come into the home EC class where Shirou is her best student. Also her roasting of the other girls like in her quest. Getting Fs in Beni's class is the worst, because it isn't just an F, it's a meticulous dressing down of exactly why letting into a kitchen should be considered a war crime, dechi.

The three Avenger Nobus are three different people. 1st Ascension is basically Archer Nobu, then you got Oda Kipposhi, and then the mom is Ascension 3 with Demon King Nobunaga. The youngest Ascension 1 Nobu is a musician. Demon King Nobu is one of those "super scary but also super polite people that only makes them scarier" type, basically a female koei Nobunaga from samurai warriors (check out some cutscenes form the games with him, he's a treat).

Imagine Demon King Nobu mom in a business suit.

Suzuka Gozen and Sei Shonagon are the textaholics who always talk in slang to the point of it sounding like they speak a different language. Murasaki is the librarian but Sei is like that ONE student who just makes her job so much harder.

Every week it's "No phones in the library Miss Shonagon." while Sei rolls her eyes and types out twitter post like "fugly ol librarian at my school needs a life lol"

Oui Katsushika is a gifted art student, and her dad (not a floating little octopus), is just a normal dude with a squid/octopus like beard. She's the teacher's pet in De Vinci's art class.

Eresh and Ishtar come from a rich family, Ereshkigal is the older sister so she had a shit load of responsibility to take over the family business while Ishtar basically gets to party her life away. Rin is the cousin they each try and swing their way. Eresh wants Rin to keep up her studies and get into a good university, Ishtar wants Rin to loosen the fuck up and admit that she likes that scrawny Emiya kid already.

BB is the host of a talk show downtown so she is kind of an absentee mom. Meltryllis has prosthetic legs that she specifically asked to be made into stilts b/c she wanted to be taller, and Passonlip has a massive rack that makes life difficult (either people staring, people assuming she's gonna be a home wrecker b/c said staring must be intentional, etc.), and of course he also has prosthetic arms to match her canon claws, obviously not as massive.

Hijikata is a very serious police officer but his wife Carmilla just uses this to have fun in the bedroom. They have two Dobermans. Hijikata's route has him patrolling near the school so most of the kids know as that scary police dude that has a picture of his wife in his pocket. One day a famous Idol called Eli-chan~ (yes spelled with the ~) is about to perform in the town and the kids can't stop talking about her, so Hijikata overhears. But, being the serious dude he is he shrugs it off until he sees a picture of this "Eli-chan~" and realizes it's his sister-in-law that came to visit and suddenly the influx of parasitic paparazzi near his house start making sense.

Carmilla: "Now you see why I hate them?", Hijikata: "No you cannot send the dogs after them honey."

She almost ran one of them over in her, very expensive, car and when that reporter says she should be locked up Hijikata corrects that would only happen if she had hit him...and she would be fined. For littering.

Okita Alter being Hijikata's partner, while Okita is her younger sister who's looked up to Hijikata since she was a little kid but she has asthma and such so she's afraid she might not get accepted.

Sigurd owns a metalworks shop (referencing his myth where he was raised by the dwarf Reginn), he met his wife Brynhildr when she was disowned by her overly controlling father.

Ozymandias, Nitocris, and Cleopatra are all the high board members of a company. Nitocris specifically got wind of Scheherazade's abusive husband situation and after getting said husband arrested, she offered Scheherazade a job.

Atalanta is a college student/TA who worked with Achilles' dad who ends up at their HS for a program or something, Achilles' dad has told him a lot about her.

Amakusa Shirou is an uncle married to the CEO of Babylon Gardens Pharmaceuticals, Semiramis. Semiramis herself is kinda chill if REALLY scary. She had to be pretty cutthroat to get to her position in the company, but Amakusa Shirou helped her mellow out, but she is still a massive tsundere.

"You know you COULD poison their lunch." "Semi, dear, I'm not going to poison my coworker's sandwich for being an ass." "It wouldn't kill them! Just a bit in their peanut better and they'll be stuck on the toilet for a week, no harm no foul."

Rex initially said Taiga would be an overly enthusiastic gym teacher but then I remembered that she was a homeroom/English teacher in Fate canon, but either or can do if you wanna be unique.

For Quetzalcoatl, Wrestling club supervisor when she isn't the senior year gym teacher. Some of the male students laughed that they didn't think a woman would know anything about wrestling. Two piledrives later, the students have earned a new appreciation for the importance on how not to be two pieces of shit. She's big on Lucha as in canon and during Halloween she gets JAGUARMAN to have an exhibition fight with her. They make a show of it but later on Taiga admits that Quatz could have CRUSHED her if they were actually fighting. She takes the wrestling club out for homemade Mexican food after tournaments

For Siduri, there's a bunch of rumors she's dating Caster Gil but it's strictly professional, Caster respects her too much to consider that. Archer Gil hits on her relentlessly, she manages to wound his ego more severely then anyone else simply by being unfailingly polite in her rejections and treating him like what he is, a teenage punk jumping higher than he can handle to land.

Ibaraki is Shuten's adoptive little sister after she was taken from an abusive mother, hence why Ibaraki looks up to her. Ibuki is either Shuten's big sister who had to take on a guardian role, or just her mom. Shuten and Ibuki have a bit of a strained relationship because Shuten saw the way Ibuki acted as they grew up, taking more and more responsibilities onto herself and refusing any distractions. And she decided that her biggest nightmare is to wake up one morning and realize she's turned into Ibuki so she tries to do everything to avoid that, hence their relationship not being the best. Ibaraki is kinda stuck in the middle because she wants to side with Shuten but she sees where Ibuki is coming from. Messy.

Caren is still Kotomine’s daughter, but he isn’t a good dad and in rebellion she sleeps around despite being a woman of god. Including sleeping with local punk Angra Mainyu. Angra Mainyu seems like a bad guy but he has a shit load of issues due to being blamed for everything going wrong in his old town, eventually coming to believe them and thinking he will cause nothing but problems. Caren banging him gives him a type of closeness he’s never felt, but under very warped circumstances.

For the Tamamo family, Vitch totally fucked her way up a corporate ladder or something, imagined Tamamo Cat working at a Cat Cafe if she were a Student. Tamamo no Mae accidentally fed her prev BF a food he was allergic too, and that kind of haunted her and scared her rep. IDK basically she seriously fucked up a previous relationship, either on purpose or accidentally, and that kind of hurts her deeply so she wants to start over with Hakuno.

Nero and Tamamo no Mae are rivals over this one guy.

Kiichi Hougen is the adoptive mom, Benkei is the family friend/uncle, Taira is Ushiwaka's older sister. Taira isn't on the best of terms with her family, some drama way back caused a rift and nowadays Ushi is the only one who's willing to talk to her and visit. Benkei never lets her go alone because he doesn't trust Taira one bit. Taira and Ushiwaka are Kintoki and Tomoe's cousins (I say Tomoe b/c apparently her husband and Ushiwaka were half cousins, with their grandpa having kids with their grandmas. I tried to make a whole family tree out of a few servants).

These are the ideas we had the most to talk about, if you guys have any suggestions for your fav servants in this AU, let either me or Rex know. Or just reblog and say them here. Who knows maybe you have a much better idea for a Servant we already mentioned.