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80s4life · 3 years

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The Thought Of Losing You

Word Count: 2,507

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: Lethal Weapon 1987 {1}

A/N: This follows sort of around the ending of the first Lethal Weapon film where both Riggs, Murtaugh, and Rianne were being tortured in separate ways. I know it sounds brutal, but trust me, it isn't that bad. AND! Happy ending! (Spent all night on this!)

Relationship: Martin Riggs x Reader

Summary: When a team is formed, Roger Murtaugh and Martin Riggs are solidified together once Y/N is added to the mix, squeezing in perfectly. Although very fiery and stubborn at heart, childish games and teasing became common place for sergeant Y/N and Martin, unable to let the other out-trash their own trash talk. But, when there is a complication during the final breakthrough of the whereabouts of the heroin-trafficking cartel, Y/N is separated from the duo. Only coming together when a kidnapping sends her in a desperate spiral trying to save the people she loves, especially Riggs.

Warnings: violent themes, kidnap, manipulation, torture, violence, language, attempted!self-surrender/suicide, 18+ audience suggested, read at own risk

Masterlist Lethal Weapon Masterlist

Prompts: #67, #68, #100 (from this list @palettes-and-prompts) & #6, #8, #17 (from this list @waiting-for-motivation)

{I do not own any of the prompts, credits to original owners above, nor do I own the gif below -> @leofromthedark}

Strolling around to the back of the supposed drug dealer's extravagant condo, Murtaugh, Riggs, and I engage in light conversation, silently noting and observing our surroundings. Stopping just near the edge of the rather expensive-looking below ground pool, Murtaugh and Riggs catch sight of two brunette women inside. Rolling my eyes, I expect Riggs to do something flirtatious, a painstakingly common reaction to almost every woman he lays eyes on. Every woman... except me. Yet, I pay no mind, Riggs' crazy nature probably too much for me to handle anyway.

Murtaugh flashes his gun, indicating to the women that he is armed. In a flash of a second, just merely after he had shown his weapon, the women duck and run from within the glass-paned wall, just in time for a man to blast a shot from behind. More specifically, the source being a shed occupying the space on the opposite side of the pool we resided on, destroying bits of its siding from the sheer distance and voracity of his attempt of subduing at least one of us.

But, we came prepared, although we were slightly taken aback, Murtaugh's swift abilities with a gun coming in handy as he lands on the drug dealer's right knee, lower thigh area. Splitting off, Murtaugh and I take either end of the pool's side, desperately trying to corral the person of interest. All the while as Riggs takes the women from in the house outside and to the nearest tree, in case of them being suspects as well, handcuffing their wrists together around the tree.

Once the task is done, Riggs hurries over to our aid, following our one, sole purpose: keeping the suspect alive for questioning.

Coming around the perimeter of the pool, Murtaugh reminds Riggs of this rule, replaying it to refresh his sometimes questionable mind. This, however, does not work in our favor as the man pulls yet another gun, this time a pistol, as Riggs had went to pull the man up.

"He's got a gun!" I scream, yet it's all in vain, as Riggs tries to act just as fast as his reflexes would've allowed, lifting the man's aimed arm as the trigger was pulled.

Yelping in surprise, I clench my teeth as the copper red liquid instantly encompasses the injured area, jerking as far away from the incident as possible.

"Y/N!" Murtaugh yells, instantly coming to my side as I go crashing to the concrete floor, catching my head and my left side as I now slowly lean into the ground below me, clutching the stinging injury to the right of my abdomen.

As Murtaugh had come to my side, Riggs took care of the suspect, unfortunately not being able to accomplish our sole purpose of being here, but overall getting rid of the threat.

"Cocksucker," he all but grunts, as he makes sure to shoot the man once more, pissed at the fact that I had gotten shot, although that fact being unbeknownst to me. "I'll call the ambulance," he all put spits out some time later, not making any attempt to check on my well being nor even making eye contact, stalking back through the side gate we had entered through.

//Some time later//

Now nestled safely and securely, I lay within the gloomy walls of the hospital, hooked up with some anesthetics and monitors, all for separate purposes. The stitches surely going to leave an awesome scar, only adding to my aggravation and exhaustion as the day finally settles and the slightest of movements constantly sending sharp pains within my whole body.

The doctors, coming in every so often, had reassured me of a discharge after the course of at least 2-4 days, only needing to ensure the proper sanitary measures are used and stitches being durable and strong without issues or tears.

Staring off at one of the four blank and colorless walls, in a daze, my ears perk up at the sound of a knock on my door, followed by Roger and Martin entering the room.

Handing me a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates, I smile at Roger as he pulls a chair beside my bed, asking, "How ya' feeling, Shortie? How're they treatin' ya' here?"

Giggling at the nickname, I respond with an, "I'm doing just as good as I can I guess. It's not so bad here either. The nurses are nice, although they're all pitiful glances and meek gestures, coming in and out as quickly as possible. I guess bullet wounds aren't their preferred cases?" I joke lightly, trying to lighten the tension in the room.

Roger catches on instantly, having caught wind on Martin's rather uncharacteristically quiet sulking in the far corner of the room. Turning to look at him briefly, he all but shrugs at me as he comes up with no response or solution to his partner's unknown issue.

Checking the time, I make up an excuse, assuming Riggs just didn't want to be here maybe? "Damn, look at the time...It's almost 9 pm guys, don't wanna be late for Trish's cooking do ya'?"

"Shit, really? Come on Riggs, you know the ass whoopin' I'm gonna get? Let's go, minus well feed you too, huh?" Murtaugh says, getting his coat and squeezing my shoulder, giving me a sympathetic look that I swipe away quickly. Riggs just gets up, side-eyeing me once quickly, but above all, ignores my presence and leaves the room. With one final look from Rog, he shuts the door, leaving me to my boredom for the remainder of my stay.

//Some time later//

Having been discharged, Roger had caught me up on the recent news, and how they had left to finish the job a day before I had gotten out of the hospital, that being yesterday evening, and it now being a full 24 hours of no communication from them.

This had struck me as odd, given that they were very advanced in their fields. Finding the whereabouts was the last big hump of every mission, the rest supposedly coming easy. This had all changed as soon as I had stepped foot onto my front porch, a not left hanging slightly within the pocket of my mailbox.

The words shocking me to the core;

"Come to xxxxxxxxxx if you want to save your partners. 8 o'clock. Sharp."

Rushing to my car, I waste no time, pulling out of the driveway and to the given destination, the time being almost too close to the deadline as I preferred it to be.

Once outside of the destination, an old, run-down warehouse stands gloomily in front of me as I slip my gun into the waistband of my jeans. Another, tucked against my ankle within my boots.

I move quietly, staying alert as I enter the warehouse quietly, instantly hit with the cries of what could only belong to Riggs, my heart wrenching. A new feeling that I instantly push aside. Following the pained screams, inching closer to the source, I catch wind of yet another's set of booming cries as well, recognizing it as Murtaugh.

With this new set of knowledge, my heart does another painful flip, as the sheer terror now courses through my veins as if it was my blood. They were the toughest men I had ever known. At least that is how I had always felt, how I feel right now, but with their pained screams, it makes me feel utterly hopeless.

Drawing my gun, I aim it before me, right beside the wall I hide on, lining it up around the corner, my full intention at being able to at least shoot down one of the three men guarding one of my teammates; their identity unknown to me at the moment with the unfortunate dimness.

Taking the shot, I hit one man, the two now swinging to guard the area, looking my direction. The man held captured, Riggs, tied to the ceiling, consistently doused in water, making the homemade shock therapy increasingly unbearable with multiple relentless blows.

"Come out now, Little Rabbit, or I pull the trigger," a booming voice commands, me now peeking out from the corner to see none other than Mr. Joshua, the man we've been after, pressing a firm gun to Riggs' limp form.

Coming out from my hiding space, Joshua motions for his goons to grab me, now taking Riggs off the hook, and into another room. The room we are led to happens to be the room Murtaugh is in, his daughter beside him, both incarcerated and handcuffed. Moving Riggs to the chair beside the pair, he is tied down just as I am, the four of us now completely helpless.

Mr. Joshua, confident and prideful of his work, moves Riggs to the center of the room, starting his interrogation, answering with beatings and threats here and there. The cause: the information given by Hunsaker on his heroin-trafficking cartel.

Just as Joshua leaves yet another powerful blow, Riggs' strength starts to run low, just watching him making me squirm in my chair, wanting nothing but to take him in my arms and drag him as far away from here as possible.

"If you have to kill one of us, kill me. Take me instead, please? Just stop! Stop all of this now," I say breathlessly, doing anything in my will to get their hands off of Riggs.

"What would I want with someone as pathetic as you?" Mr. Joshua answers bitterly.

"Information. That's all you want right? You just want details about the business, you went through all this trouble, and for what? Just to kill us in the end? I know your type. You can't get off without getting what you want, and this would've all gone to waste without it," I respond, determined now.

"So, what do you want? To strike a deal?" I nod. "So, if I let them go, you'll give me what I want?" I nod again.

"Y/N no," Riggs says, now worried about what you're going up against.

"Shut it," Joshua states strictly.

"Y/N, listen to Riggs! You can't do this!" Murtaugh adds, now borderline terrified as everyone in this room is filled with the most important people in his life, all threatened with the only thing that could take them all away: death.

"SHUT IT!" Joshua all but screams now. "Fine. I'll take you up on your little deal. However, you fuck with me, I'm killing them."

"I don't agree with you unless you cut them loose right now, and I am assured that they are out of this building," I say confidently, yet shaking with fear.

He nods his agreement, showing a security camera view from one of his computers, watching as Rianne, Roger, and Martin are all led back outside, handcuffs removed, and all moved into my car, them pulling away from the warehouse.

Pulling the computer's view away from me now, he turns to me sharply, my gaze turning upward as my arms are still strapped behind my back, behind the chair. "Now," he starts, the voice strict like a parent beginning to question a toddler, "The information. What did Hunsaker tell you?"

Taking a breath in through my nose, I exhale through my mouth as I ponder my response, "Just as much as he's told you."

With this, Mr. Joshua lets out a scream, landing a punch to the jaw, my body leaning in on the stitches. Taking notice to my sharp intake of breath from the movement, Joshua uses that to his advantage, grabbing a knife, lifting my shirt, and pressing the cool metal along the line of handiwork. The only thing keeping my skin together at the moment.

"Let's try this again, what information did you receive from Hunsaker?"

"I told you. I. Don't. Know."

"Bullshit!" He digs into the skin, smirking at the cry of agony and shaking engulf my body.

"I-I don't know anymore than you do! Please! He was killed before we got anything from him!"

"Bullshit," he answers playfully now, dragging the blade of the knife wherever he pleases now, enjoying my pleads.

As he opens up my stitched bullet wound, he goes to start at another spot, the attempt being short-lived as a bullet wound of his own goes through his skull, the source standing in the doorway alongside Murtaugh with Rianne tucked under her father's arm.

Crying now, I sigh in relief as Riggs rushes to me, cutting me loose and lifting my limp body. Carrying me to the car, we make our way to the hospital once more.

During the wait and multiple switching of rooms, Riggs stays, waiting for me, only getting up once I emerge from the exit, patched up and clean. He smirks at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, leading me to Rog's car, taking us to the only place we find comfort; his house.

//Some time later//

Getting settled in at the Murtaugh residence, Riggs and I share Rianne's room, which was so generously offered as one of the youngest decide to have a sleepover with her.

Looking over at Riggs, he looks at me, covered in open cuts and bruises, dirt and grime, and, taking a first aid kit from Rianne's desk, I make it my priority to get them fixed up.

"What are you doing?" Riggs asks, tiredly amused.

"Taking care of you, it's the least I can do," I reply determined once again.

"Awww! Someone's got a little crush on me huh?"

"Hey! When I finish patching you up, I swear to God I'm gonna kick your ass for making me worry about you," I say jokingly. Riggs replying by grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer.

Locking eyes on one another now, I couldn't help but joke once more, adding a sly, "Is this the moment that we kiss?"

Giggling, he looks down, placing his head on my chest, murmuring, "I think I'm in love with you and I don't know what to do. I mean, I've been married before, and I- I lost her and I don't wanna lose you too- I couldn't live if you go too, I-"

Grabbing his chin, I tilt his head upwards to meet my gaze, "Look at me, Riggs. Look at me. I love you."

Eyes watering, he leans in for a kiss, my hands finding way to his hair, while his pull my hips into his lap, wrapping lightly around them. After leaning back for air, we giggle once more, leaning our foreheads against one another.

"I never want to ever feel the fear of the thought of losing you again, okay? So don't be a dumbass, Dumbass."

"Yeah, yeah," Riggs answers once more, leaning in for another kiss.

#mel gibson #danny glover #traci wolfe #lethal weapon #lethal weapon 1989 #martin riggs #rianne murtaugh #martin riggs x reader #female reader insert #martin riggs imagine #lethal weapon imagine #roger murtaugh #mel gibson imagine #mel gibson x reader #1989 #80s #90s

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write-r-die · 3 years

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Man’s World - Part 2

ENEMIES TO LOVERS - After a solar flare ended the world as we know it, former spy August Walker becomes the most terrifying of the many warlords who pop up across the US. He leads his militia from town to town, taking what he wants and all killing those who resist him. And now he wants Lilah. And one way or another, he’ll have her.

Masterlist

August didn’t know what possessed him to save that girl. Maybe it’s just that he didn’t like killing women. Maybe he was impressed with the unique mix of bravery and stupidity that led the vaguely ethnic twentysomething to shoot at him, only to fail spectacularly. More likely, he was just bored. Life after the flash was hard and violent but painfully predictable.

He thought she was pretty when he carried her from the city despite the bangs, but in the sunlight, he was far less impressed with her appearance.

To be fair, she wasn’t well. Standing in the command tent before him, she wavered on her feet. Her clothes were burnt around the edges and her feet were bare. The enormous sunglasses she wore didn’t help her appearance, either.

“The Boss just spoke to you,” one of August’s lieutenants said from somewhere behind him. “Speak,” he commanded the girl.

People who try to shoot me always end up dead. That’s what August Walker said to her. What the fuck was she supposed to say back?

“Speak?” Lilah parroted, doing her best to sound confused.

Jack looked like he wanted to smash his head into a wall.

August kept his eyes fixed on the girl as he spoke to his soldier. “What did you say was wrong with her?”

“Concussion,” Jack answered. “Doc says she’ll be right in a few days.”

August hummed. He didn’t raise his voice or take his eyes off Lilah when he commanded the others in the tent to leave with one simple word: “Out.”

Lilah’s expression grew more and more desperate as each person filed out until finally, they were alone.

“Are you a whore?” he asked simply.

Lilah was physically taken aback by his question. “Am I . . . ?”

August’s eyes roamed up and down her body. She looked a mess now but he could tell she cleaned up well. One of his many talents was the ability to sense a woman’s figure through her clothes, however unattractive those clothes may be. And he sensed Lilah’s figure was exquisite. Her face was, too, when it wasn’t smudged with ash and blood or half-hidden by ridiculous sunglasses.

“Are you a whore?” August repeated.

Lilah couldn’t speak for a moment, too shocked by his bluntness. “No.”

August’s blue eyes raked over her one more time, his gaze unbearably intense. He might as well be licking her. “That’s too bad.” He turned back to the maps on the table.

Lilah cleared her throat when she grew uncomfortable with the silence. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

“No.” The warlord continued to study his maps as if he wasn’t interested in her enough to even look up. Maybe that was a good thing, thought Lilah, considering how it made her feel when he looked at her.. “What did you do? Back before the flare hit.”

“Umm . . .” Funemployed? Was that an answer? “I was a camp counselor during the summers when I was in college.”

“What activity did you teach?”

She cleared her throat. “Archery.”

“Archery,” Walker repeated. “You should have used a bow and arrow instead of a gun to shoot me. Maybe then you would actually have hit something.”

She was silent for a long time. Her throat was painfully dry. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I would’ve left you behind on that sidewalk if I wanted you dead,” he said flatly.

“What do you want, then?”

He wanted to fuck her.

After she’d bathed and changed and gotten her shit together, of course. August lifted his eyes from the table to give her that intense look again; that was answer enough.

He looked over Lilah’s head at Jack and subtly nodded towards the entryway. And just like that, Lilah was dismissed.

***

The people August Walker ordered to leave the tent start coming back inside the moment I’m dismissed. Pretty sure they were listening.

On my way out, I pass someone vaguely familiar but for the life of me I can’t remember who he is. “Hey,” I say anyway. I stop walking and so does he.

He nods once. “Lilah.”

“Mr. Kewlani!” His name comes out in a shout not because I’m surprised to see him but because I’m happy I remember his name.

He lived next door to me growing up. The only things I can really remember about him from childhood is that our dog pissed on all his plants and killed them and he hated us for it, and that he was condescending because of how smart he was. I’m not at all surprised that August Walker recruited him.

“Good to see you.” The fifty-eight-year-old physics professor doesn’t look pleased or surprised to see me. I can’t blame him for it, since we never talked or got along, but I feel slighted.

“You too.” I think to ask him about his wife and daughters, but they’ve been dead for years. One of the daughters was killed by a drunk driver before the flare, and his other daughter and wife succumbed to the strange plague that came immediately after. Lots of people did.

“Come on,” Jack says. He starts walking before I register his words and I have to scramble to catch up with him before he disappears into the tents.

“Where are we going?” I’m pretty sure this isn’t the way back to the tent I was in before.

He doesn’t reply. He stops in front of a big white tent - the sort people rent for outdoor events like weddings or parties - and pulls open the flap. It’s packed with army cots and outdoor recliners that have been flattened for use as a bed.

“Any open beds?” Jack calls to a woman nearby.

She pulls her toothbrush out of her mouth and uses it to gesture to the other side of the tent. “The one over there by me is free.”

“Great.” Jack turns to leave but I grab him by the arm.

“Wait, what?”

“This is your tent now,” he says, peeling my hand from his bicep.

“That’s it? No tour? What about - ?”

“Stiva,” Jack calls to the tooth-brushing woman again. “This one’s eggs are scrambled. Deal with her.”

And then he’s gone.

Stiva finishes brushing her teeth and looks me up and down. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. That, coupled with her cargo pants and tank top, make her look like the single generic woman in any action film.

She must be smart or talented or important. August Walker only recruits useful people: doctors, engineers, plumbers and handymen, craftsmen, teachers, horse trainers and stable hands, architects, tailors, former military, and other things like that. And of course, prostitutes. I’m fairly certain Stiva isn’t a prostitute, though.

“What’s your name?” Stiva asks.

“Lilah.”

She looks me over again and seems to approve. “Stiva,” she replies. She walks me over to the other side of the tent and stows her toothbrush in a plastic box beneath her cot. “That one’s yours,” she says, nodding toward the one beside hers.

I sit awkwardly on the edge. There’s barely enough space between the cots for me to squeeze my legs in.

“You look star-struck,” she observes.

“Concussion,” I reply. “I’m pretty out of it.”

The thirty-something woman shakes her head. “No. I meant starstruck from meeting the boss.”

Now I really am confused. “What? How did - why do you know that?”

She rifles through the few personal items she has stashed under her cot. “I heard that some idiot with bangs tried to shoot the boss. I haven’t seen another grown woman with bangs in years so I assume that’s you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Are people talking about that a lot?”

“Not really,” she says, shrugging. “I only know cause I fuck Sy sometimes and he gets chatty after.”

“Sy?”

“He’s the boss’s right-hand-man,” she explains, frowning. “Nobody explained the chain of command?”

“If they did, I don’t remember it.”

“Did anybody even teach you the camp layout?”

“No. But I’ve been unconscious mostly so they never had the chance.”

She grunts and turns back to her cot. Finally she pulls out a french press and two cracked mugs. “Coffee?”

“God, yes.”

We go to one of the cooking fires at the center of camp for hot water. One of the cooks gives us some coffee grounds to use on the condition that Stiva make her a cup, too.

She looks me over, smirking, as we wait for the brew to steep. “You’re the boss’s new girl,” she says, half a question.

“Not yet,” Stiva says before I have the chance to reply. “If she was with him, she wouldn’t be out here slumming it with the rest of us.”

The water blackens and Stiva pours us each a mug. She thanks the cook before we turn back the way we came.

“I thought you said people weren’t talking about it,” I whisper to Stiva.

“I said they weren’t really talking about it.”

“So I’m supposed to fuck August Walker,” I say after a long silence. It’s not a surprise but I don’t like the fact that everyone in camp seems to know. Even as we walk back to our tent, I feel eyes on me. The camp seems big enough that one new person shouldn’t be so obvious.

I finally ask the question I’m most afraid to have answered, “What if I don't want to sleep with him?” I swallow hard. “Will he . . . Is he the sort of man that can take no for an answer?”

“I’ve never thought about that - what would happen if someone said no to him. No one has ever said no to him for anything except maybe Miss Ally,” she says contemplatively. It takes a beat for her to respond to my question. “I don’t think he’d force you into anything. He’s a dick but he’s also a gentleman, you know?”

I do know. “I don’t know. I’m almost positive my body is the only thing he wants from me. Not my professional expertise or know-how.” And who’s to say he won’t dispose of me if I don’t serve the one purpose I’m here for?

“I mean, can you do anything?” asks Stiva. “Anything useful?”

“I taught archery at a summer camp in Maine,” I offer.

She looks ambivalent.

“Why?” I ask, slightly embarrassed. Being an archer sounds cool, but until the flare happened, it didn't have much of a real-world application. “What can you do?”

“I’m a surveyor and a cartographer,” she says. “Used to work in real estate. Help builders figure out boundaries for new projects.”

“Oh.”

“But people here do all sorts of shit. There’s a dog breeder who used to raise pit bulls to be guard dogs for famous people; now they’re attack dogs for the boss. And there’s a twelve-year-old girl in our tent who’s a violin prodigy.” Stiva shrugs. “They keep anybody the boss might have a use for.”

“August Walker likes the violin?” I ask.

“Not as far as I know,” she says. “But he wants to preserve society and culture and all that for after.”

I follow her back into the tent. “After what?”

“After we settle somewhere for good.” She sits heavily on her cot. “The boss wants to make a new world in his image. Supposedly he’s got it all planned out.”

“That seems a little psycho.”

She stretches out on her back. “Sy told me that he used to be a doomsday prepper or something like that. He’s been waiting for the world to end for a while.”

I’m familiar with some of those rumors. August Walker was supposedly a would-be terrorist planning to cull the world’s population. Supposedly a bunch of powerful people were part of his cell - world leaders, even. As far as I know, they never put any of their plans into motion; the solar flare did their work for them.

***

Later in the evening, when the boss called for one of his usual girls from among the thirty-nine prostitutes in the camp, he imagined he was fucking Lilah instead of her. It made him furious, which made him rough. The prostitute would have more bruises than usual tomorrow.

He repaid her for the discomfort with an unopened bottle of tequila and a pair of diamond earrings stolen from a dead woman’s jewelry box during the last raid. That, coupled with the two orgasms he gave her, seemed more than enough compensation.

She left the tent late at night - he never let his women sleep there - and August was alone with his thoughts, which soon turned back to that stupid girl.

He wouldn’t give Lilah anything when he fucked her - and sooner or later he would fuck her. His favor would be more than enough compensation. She wouldn’t sleep in his tent, obviously, but he imagined her having a little tent of her own somewhere nearby so he could call for her whenever he wanted. And no one else would be allowed to fuck her.

He had a girl like that for a few months but he grew bored with her. When she asked his permission to leave camp and strike out on her own, he gave it willingly. She had the back of her hand tattooed with August’s mark before she left. It was essentially a guarantee of safe passage. No one would fuck with somebody associated with Walker, and if his men ever came in contact with her again, they’d know not to kill or hurt her.

Now he wanted someone like that again. That and more.

Someone who belonged exclusively to him not because the other men in camp were afraid to touch what was his, but because she didn’t want anyone other than him.

The last girl was an escort with a moderately successful OnlyFans account. She was essentially a prostitute. August liked that Lilah wasn’t.

Seducing her would give him something less mundane to do in his free time.

***

They try to integrate me into camp life over the next week. All in all it goes pretty well, but when they give me a bow and arrows to practice shooting, it becomes abundantly clear that the concussion has fucked up my long-distance vision. I can’t shoot shit. I don’t know if I’m going to be nearsighted forever or if it will clear up as I heal. Miss Ally is displeased.

It’s obvious that she is equal in rank to Walker, but on the civilian side of camp life. I get the impression they’ve known each other for a long time. She’s the only person in camp who doesn’t refer to or address him as the boss or just Boss. Always Mr. Walker. It’s still a respectful address, complete with a polite honorific, but just the fact that she uses his name seems oddly intimate, like maybe she knew who he was before he became one of the strongest warlords on the continent.

I don’t see Walker much. Meals are served in a huge clearing and most people eat together, so Walker is obliged to make an appearance most days, always at dinner. Most of us sit on the ground or in folding chairs but not him. He sits on a pale blue armchair that I think is made of velvet. The legs are gold and the back and arms are scalloped. I think it belonged to a woman before it became his throne.

The first time I see him at dinner, he keeps an eye on me throughout the meal, even though I’m nowhere near him. We make eye contact at one point. He smirks at me and takes a deep drink of his wine.

The second time I see him, he ignores me. Well maybe not ignores, but he doesn’t pay me any attention. I don’t know why but it annoys me.

Near the end of the meal, he crooks his finger at one of the prostitutes. They leave the clearing together, presumably to go off somewhere and fuck, and I’m almost offended by it. Then I come to my senses.

He’s a warlord, and true warlords have concubines. A lot of them. Just because he wants me doesn’t mean he wants me, exclusively.

For all I know, he’s got a girl from every settlement he raided. Maybe he keeps them as a token of victory.

That pisses me off. Men objectifying women, just like always. It may be the apocalypse, but I’m still a fucking feminist.

Walker doesn’t make an appearance at dinner again for two days. I’m filling my plate when he joins us on the third night. I know without looking that he’s here; the sudden quiet tells me all I need to know.

Things slowly start up again as I heap chicken and instant mashed potatoes onto my plate. It’s only when one of the cooks gives me a forceful tap on the shoulder that I look up.

“What?”

“He’s looking at you,” the woman says through her teeth. She swings her head toward August Walker. He lazes in his blue chair like a king at a feast. When we lock eyes, he smirks at me, then motions with his forefinger for me to come to him, just like he did with that prostitute the other night.

I don’t move.

“What are you doing?” the cook says. “Go!”

“If he wants to talk, he can come to me.” I’m not a hooker or a dog. I won’t just come running at his beck and call.

The cook looks at me like I’m an idiot.

It’s a dumb issue to take a stance on, especially when it seems my survival is contingent on letting him fuck me.

I seek Stiva out in the crowd. I haven’t made it halfway over to her before that kid - Jack, I think his name is - intercepts me.

“Boss wants a word.”

They’ve set up what appears to be an old Ikea office chair next to Walker’s surrogate throne. He gestures for me to sit when I get close enough. I flop down, making the chair groan.

Walker studies me for a long moment. He looks amused but pleased, too. All I can think about as his eyes rake over me are how blue they are and how the color of his chair accentuates them. “How have you been, Delilah?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“No.”

I shrug. “I can’t complain.”

“That’s it?” he asks, bemused.

“What else should there be?”

Walker takes a deep breath through his nose and settles back in his chair. “I know for a fact how unstable your town was. I did my research. Most of it was already in disrepair, and the crime rates before the flare were . . . high. Here, you have a roof over your head and three meals a day.”

Not really a roof, but . . .

“I had a roof over my head before.”

“What did you have to do to get it?” he asks, voice gravelly and low.

“I’m not a prostitute,” I say defensively. “I told you that.”

“I’m not necessarily saying you are.”

“Necessarily?”

He leans back in his chair. “You’re a survivor. You did whatever it was you had to do to stay alive in that shithole.”

Now I get it. “And you think I’ll do whatever I have to do to stay alive here.”

He sips his wine in reply, his gaze never leaving mine. He doesn’t speak when he’s done, just swirls the purple wine around in his glass.

“You’re not eating,” I observe.

“I hardly ever eat the plain food,” he says.

I remember Stiva saying that there’s a hipster chef who forages for his ingredients somewhere in the camp, and that he cooked for the highest-ranking people. He was one of those chefs that foraged for his ingredients before that was necessary. I think I followed him on Instagram back before the flare.

“You ought to join me,” Walker continues. “Something tells me you appreciate a good meal.” His voice is like liquid sex. He’s a terrifying, ruthless warlord who’s done things so horrible I can’t even imagine them, but damn if he isn’t the handsomest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

The pretty ones are always assholes.

I level my gaze at him. “Are you asking me on a date?”

He actually throws his head back and laughs. It’s booming; conversations pause and heads turn at the unfamiliar sound. He has the sort of laughter that would be infectious if he weren’t so scary.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he finally says.

“I won’t just spread my legs for a good meal,” I say, but it honestly depends on how good the meal is.

Walker is exasperated. “Is sex the only thing you think about?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“No,” he agrees. “You’re rude, but you’re not an idiot.”

“You’re an asshole.” The words fall out before I can stop them. I slap my hand over my mouth like some idiot in a movie, as if that will undo what I just said. Why did I say that?

He’s going to hit me. Or shoot me. He’s going to do something to me and it won’t be good. Lilah, you stupid fucking idiot.

“No one speaks to me the way you do,” Walker says to me. “It’s refreshing, frankly.” His tone changes. “But don’t push it, especially when there are other people who can hear you. You won’t like the consequences.”

Walker downs the rest of his wine and stands. A handful of men scattered around us rise, too, and move toward him. His entourage, I guess. For a moment I think they’re each going to grab a limb and haul me away to some torture chamber or old-fashioned stockades, but they barely even glance my way.

Walker smiles wolfishly. “I’ll send someone to fetch you before dinner tomorrow. Find something nice to wear.” And off he goes.

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ladyfogg · 3 years

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Heal My Wounds - Part 1

Heal My Wounds - Part 1 of 3

Fic Summary: After you meet the infamous Kit Walker, you realize that he cannot possibly be guilty of everything they say he is. Determined to treat him with kindness and compassion, you end up falling hard for the handsome man with gorgeous dark eyes. But you both are playing a dangerous game and you must decide just how far you’re willing to go to save the man you love. Part 2. AHS Masterlist.

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: War by Poets of the Fall

Pairing: Kit Walker/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Slow Burn, tw: mental illness, tw: asylum setting, tw: violence

A/N: I ended up finishing this a lot quicker than I thought I was going to. Enjoy! For @tatestripedsweater and @kitwalker02.

You’ve seen many things during your time at Briarcliff. Being a nurse, you deal with truly awful alignments, either self-inflicted or acquired under “mysterious” circumstances. This usually means that a guard roughed the patient up or Dr. Arden can’t be bothered to treat them himself. You learn to expect the worst, not in the patient but in what they are afflicted with. In truth, your heart goes out to every one of them. Regardless of what sent them to Briarcliff, it is always your mission to treat them with the respect and dignity they deserve.

Which is why, when you hear that the infamous Bloody Face, aka Kit Walker, has been transferred to the asylum, you try not to be concerned. You knew all about Bloody Face and what he’s done and when they arrested Kit, you aren’t ashamed to admit that your first thought was, “Good riddance!” However, you force yourself to change your tune once you learn you’ll be treating him at some point. Plenty of dangerous people had come and gone through Briarcliff’s doors. You aren’t going to treat him any differently than you would the other patients.

No matter how dangerous he is.

It isn’t long before you find yourself face-to-face with him. He is there less than a day before he’s brought in to see you, his lip and his nose a bloody mess, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. His appearance surprises you even though it shouldn’t. You read the papers; you’ve seen his face. Yet, in person, he’s so handsome it takes your breath away and you need a moment to compose yourself.

“What happened?” you ask Kit as the guard forces him to sit on the bed. He is bound with cuffs and chains, an overkill if you ever saw one.

“He got into a scrape with another inmate,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Bloody Face here got the worst of it.”

“They’re called patients, not inmates,” you correct him with a glare. “And I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Mr. Walker. That is his name, that's what he will be called while he’s under my care.”

The guard, whose name you think is Hardy, looks taken aback by your words. He is a new one who hasn’t had to deal with you yet. While many of the female staff are nuns, you are not. You are there purely for medical purposes, not religious ones. Therefore, you have no reason to force politeness to the guards. After all, why should you? They never show you any. The sooner Hardy learns you will not tolerate his bullshit, the better.

You have been talked to by Sister Jude several times regarding your attitude but since you are appointed by the state, there is nothing more she can do. Eventually, the both of you came to a mutual understanding. In fact, you suspect she admires your non-nonsense attitude as it most often gets results. If there is a patient in your infirmary, you can call the shots. Of course, the male guards don’t like that, but they can get fucked.

When you turn back at Kit, he has a surprised look on his face.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” you ask.

“Just my face,” he answers. “And my hands.”

You glance down and see his bruises and bloody knuckles. Clearly, he defended himself but given the fact that the other patient hasn’t been brought it, you assume Kit got the worst of it. You go about collecting what you need to disinfect his wounds.

To Hardy, you say, “Remove his chains.”

“No can do. Not for this one.”

“His knuckles are bleeding, and I need to examine his hands to make sure nothing is broken or fractured. Remove his chains.”

There is an intense stare-off between you and the guard before he relents and unbinds Kit. Once his restraints are gone, you wave Hardy off. “You may step outside.”

“Now hold on a minute! This man—”

“Has rights. He deserves the same privacy as every other patient. Besides, I won’t have you getting in my way while I patch him up. You can step outside and wait. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Hardy snorts, annoyed and done with arguing. “Fine by me. Don’t complain if you get killed.”

“I won’t, considering if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or are you not aware how death works?”

With a sneer, he stalks away, and you heard him mutter, “Stupid bitch.” under his breath.

“Smart bitch actually,” you call after him. “And shut the door on your way out, please.” It slams behind him and you return your attention to your patient.

Kit looks at you with awe. “Forgive me for saying so, doc. But you’re one tough broad.”

You laugh, pulling a chair over so you can sit in front of Kit. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. And you have to be though, especially in this place. The gentle don’t last long. Now, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Kit extends his hands, and you take them in your own, examining his wounded knuckles. After moving each finger and his wrists, you determine there was nothing broken or fractured so you set about cleaning the scrapes. Kit watches you the entire time. Even though you don’t look up from your work, you can feel his eyes on you.

“I think you’re the only person in this place who’s not afraid of me,” he says after a stretch of silence. “This is the first time I’ve been treated like a person since this whole thing started.”

“Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Walker?” you glance up and are immediately taken in by the soft expression on his face.

“Call me Kit,” he says. “And I never hurt anybody. All the things they say I did are lies. I have no idea what happened to those girls and I have no idea what happened to Alma other than they took her.”

You consider his words for a moment and pull away, letting his hands fall to his lap. The bloody towel you hold is tossed onto your tray of supplies before you sit back and cross your arms. “Alright then, Kit. Tell me why I should believe you.”

Kit doesn’t seem to know what to say at first. You’ve dealt with numerous patients who swear up and down they didn’t do what they were accused of. Most of them had. Because of that, you are pretty damn good at reading people because even the best liar has a tell. An eye twitch, a knee bounce, a lip bite…anything. You trained yourself to look for these things because, in your line of work, it means the difference between life or death.

The man in front of you doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. More to the point, you don’t feel scared of him. You aren’t made of stone; you feel fear just like everyone else. You are simply better at masking it. However, that violent vibe you’ve learned to sense doesn’t radiate from Kit and as you look into his deep brown eyes, all you see is fear, frustration, anger, and sadness. They all pass one after another on a loop.

“I don’t have a reason,” Kit finally says after a long pause. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you showed me kindness no one else has and I’m grateful. Really.”

“I think this place wouldn’t be half as bad as those colleagues of mine showed a little kindness too.” You go back to work, cleaning his hands. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Kit flinches as you pour alcohol over his cuts. Carefully, you clean them some more before you are sure they won’t get infected. Once that’s done, you wrap them in bandages.

“There, good as new. Just try to keep those bandages dry for a bit. You can take them off tomorrow to let the cuts breathe. Let me make sure your nose isn't broken.”

Kit remain still as you gently cup his face, turning his head left to right in order to take stock of his injuries. Being so close, you realize how handsome he truly is. That jawline is to die for, and his dark curls looks so soft, you want to run your fingers through them. Once that thought entered your brain, you scold yourself. He is your patient and is in the asylum to see if he is fit to stand trial for murder. Thinking about him in any way other than professional is a dangerous game. And very stupid.

“That bad huh?” Kit asks with a slight smirk.

It isn’t a malicious one by any means. In fact, it’s almost hesitant. Like he is afraid to be so comfortable joking with you. You don’t blame him considering what he has gone through. You offer him a smile in return.

“Just a split lip and it doesn’t look like your nose is broken. It’s not even swollen. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

You grab a fresh towel and dip it in warm water before gingerly cleaning the blood from his face. But before you can get far, Kit reaches up to stop you. Instinctively you freeze, worried that you may have hurt him. Maybe his nose is worse off than you originally thought?

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

Kit shakes his head. “No, I’m just…” He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry but I just...why aren’t you scared of me?"

“You really want me to be, don’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m just…” He stops when he sees you holding back a smile. “You’re messing with me.”

You shrug and go back to your work. “A little,” you admit. “But to answer your question, I’m not scared of you because I believe you. I don’t think you killed or even hurt anyone. I just don’t sense that sort of evil in you. As for what you claim to have witnessed, that I don’t know about. But I do know crazy, Kit Walker. And you’re not it.”

It is like the remaining tension leaves his body and Kit slumps against you, a few tears running down his cheeks. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him rest his weary head on your shoulder. The warmth of him is invigorating and you savor the feeling. It’s been a long time since you’ve been touched in any way. Long work hours make your social life non-existent and you carefully keep your distance with your patients.

Except Kit, it seems. You don’t know why your well-constructed walls are crumbling under the weight of one interaction with one man.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he says, his voice muffled by your uniform. “No one will listen. No one believes…”

“I’m listening. But first, sit back before you get blood all over me.”

With a weak laugh, Kit pulls away. He wipes the tears with the back of his hand which you’re grateful for because you were about two seconds away from gently brushing them away. Pulling yourself together, you continue to clean his face while he tells you his story. It’s definitely strange. The idea of being abducted and probed was one you’d rather not think about.

But you don’t just listen to his words, you watch his expression, pay attention to the tone of his voice and his body language. Even though you’ve heard some of it through the papers, it’s different hearing it from him directly. Once he’s done, you’re even more certain he didn’t kill anyone. No one who talks about their missing wife that softly and heart felt could possibly be a vicious serial killer.

It’s his eyes that give him away. There’s so much emotion and depth, you can’t help but believe him. You wish you can explain it, but some things are beyond explanation.

“You sure I’m not crazy?” Kit asks when you don’t respond to him right away.

“After that story, you’re absolutely batshit.”

He chuckles when he realizes you aren’t serious. You pull your hand away, finally done getting rid of all the blood, but he stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist. “Thank you for listening. I could tell you weren’t judging when I spoke, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not my place to judge. Only heal.” You sit back, breaking all contact with him, hoping it’ll clear your spinning head. “There. Now you’re just as handsome as you were before. Do me a favor and at least try not to get majorly hurt again for the rest of the day?”

“He started it.”

“Everyone always starts things here. And given your current situation, it’s best to keep your head down as much as possible.”

“What’s the point? They’ve already made up their minds about me being guilty,” Kit says bitterly as you roll your tray over to the sink. He sees a pack of cigarettes on your desk and nods towards them. “Mind if I have one?”

You wave for him to go ahead as you clean up. “I wish I had words of encouragement for you. I wish I could say it will all work out. But unless they catch the real Bloody Face, your choices are either here or the electric chair.”

Kit pops a cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I have to see the state-appointed shrink. My last hope is to convince some head doctor that I’m not crazy.”

Your heart goes out to him. His situation really is a double-edged sword. If he proves he isn’t crazy, then they are sure to send him to trial and his death. If he keeps spouting off about strangers abducting him and his wife, then they will keep him at Briarcliff. Either way, he loses. It isn’t fair.

“Stick to your story,” you tell him. “If it’s really the truth and that’s really what you know happened, then stick to it. I mean, it’ll probably get you confined here for life. But at least you’ll be alive.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

You don’t get to respond. The door bursts open and Sister Jude strolls in with Hardy right behind her. You wonder how long he waited outside before running to tattle on you.

“Why is this patient not restrained?” she asks in that stern voice of hers.

“I needed to clean his hands and couldn’t very well do that when they were bound,” you say. “He’s all set now.”

“In the future, I would appreciate it if you would leave the door open. No young woman should be alone with this one,” Sister Jude says, motioning to Kit. “Not until he’s been properly medicated.”

“He deserves just as much privacy as any of us do when being medically treated.”

“Not here. Not under my roof,” Sister Jude counters. “I like you, girl, but don’t push me on this. Kit Walker may have the looks of an angel but he’s far from it.”

“She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Kit says angrily.

Sister Jude motions for Hardy to grab Kit. Anger courses through your veins when you see how he is manhandled. “Hey, be careful! I don’t want to have to treat a dislocated shoulder,” you say.

Kit sends you a grateful smile which Sister Jude unfortunately notices. She steps up to him and in a low voice says, “Quit your leering! You don’t fool me, Kit Walker. You can keep spouting that innocent act all you’d like but I know there’s darkness in your soul.”

Kit’s body tenses and you see him clench his fists in anger. The nun yanks his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on your desk.

What a bitch.

As he is led away, Kit dares to look back at you and you see the glimmer of another smile before he is gone. The empty room suddenly seems more so without him there. It’s strange how comfortable you feel around him, especially considering the circumstances. After cleaning up the remnants of his cigarette, you sit back at your desk. But focusing is not in the cards for you. The rest of the day, you find yourself constantly sidetracked by the handsome brown-haired man with the deep brown eyes. So much so that you get angry with yourself.

You are hardly ever swayed by just a pretty face. Then again, there’s more to Kit than that. Although, it certainly helps. The way he stood up for you even when he was in trouble spoke volumes about who he is a person. You don’t think there is a selfish bone in that man’s body.

The next day during meds, you don’t see him in the Day Room with the others. It suddenly occurs to you that after the fight the day before, he probably was thrown in solitary. You hate solitary being used for any of your patients but the thought of Kit in a small dark room, bound and alone makes your heart break in your chest. All you can do is hope he’ll be out of there soon.

At least three days pass before you see him again, mostly because you spend most of that time in the infirmary rather than in the common areas. It’s early morning and you are enjoying a rare moment of silence when the door opens, and Kit is led in. He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, which has already begun to bruise and swell.

“What happened?” you demand as you leap to your feet.

The guard, a brute named Dixon who you can’t stand, forces Kit onto one of the beds. “He slipped and fell.”

You doubt it. Your eyes slide over to look at Kit, who gives you a subtle shake of his head. “Oh really?” you ask Dixon, narrowing your eyes in distrust. “This seems like a pretty big bump just to happen from a slip.”

“Just treat him so I can get him back with the others,” Dixon orders.

“He hit his head. I’m going to have to keep him here for a few hours to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Fine.” Dixon shoves Kit until he was laying on the bed. When he reaches for the restraints, Kit fights back.

“No! Let me go!” Kit struggles against him.

“Those aren’t necessary,” you declare, crossing the room to try to stop Dixon.

But the guard isn’t having any of it. The next thing you know, he pushes you away, hard enough that you trip over your feet and fall right on your ass.

“You son of a bitch!” Kit exclaims. He leaps up and punches Dixon square in the jaw.

What happens next is a flurry of blows and swears as the men fight each other. Knowing this can only end poorly for Kit, you manage to get back up before prying the two apart. “Enough!” you snap. “No fighting in my infirmary!”

Dixon is practically snarling as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t scare me, Bloody Face. If I had my way, you’d be in the furnace by now.”

Kit makes a move to go at him, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Mr. Walker, lay down so Dixon can bind you. If you don’t, I know the right injection that’ll make you so tired, you’ll wake up next week.”

Kit’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you with concern. You throw him a subtle wink. Breathing heavily, he sits back on the bed and allows Dixon to restrain him. Even though it pains you to do so, you help to keep up appearances. But you don’t tighten them as much as you should. Kit’s jaw is clenched as he watches Dixon’s movements, as if he’s waiting for him to attack again.

Once Kit is secured, you reach into your pocket. Unbeknownst to the guards, you carry around a sharpened scalpel for your own protection and the second Dixon lets his guard down, you press it to his neck, making him halt his movements.

“Listen here, you sick fuck,” you growl. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll shove this so far into your neck you’ll have to take your meals through a tube. Are we clear?”

Dixon sneers and takes a step back. “Whatever you say, woman. Call us when this psycho is ready to go back to his cell. And I’d be careful who you threaten. You wouldn’t want to end up like one of your patients, now would you?”

His threats send a chill down your spine, but you keep your hand steady, the scalpel still pointed at him as he backs away. It’s not until he’s out the door that you cross the room so you can lock it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kit asks the moment it’s clear the two of you are alone.

You cross the room, pocketing the sharp instrument as you go. “I’m fine, Kit. Don’t worry about me.” As quick as you can, you undo his bindings. “Sorry about this. I fucking hate using bindings, but it was the only way to get Dixon to leave. He’s got a nasty streak in him; I’d stay clear if I were you. Are you okay? What happened to your head?”

“That asshole smashed my face into the wall,” he says as he sits up, rubbing his wrists. “He caught me wandering out of the Day Room.”

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” you ask, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your head down?”

“I just needed some peace and quiet. On my own terms and not in a dark dirty cell. Besides, others wander. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the others aren’t wanted for murder. They mean to make an example out of you, Kit.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You sigh and head to the icebox in the corner of the room. As you put together an icepack for him, you say, “These guards will look for any excuse to get rough. And they especially have it out for you. You have to be careful.”

“I hate this. I hate all of it. I feel like I’m going crazy. My head is so cloudy, and I can barely feel anything.”

“Those are the meds. Meant to keep you docile.” You carry the ice pack over to him along with supplies to fix up his head wound. “And suppress other impulses.”

“It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.” Kit barely makes a face as you clean the cut and dress it. “How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even feel like me? I think I’m slipping, doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Well, what should I call you then? You never gave me your name.”

You tell him your name and press the icepack to the bump on his head, “Here, hold this. Your nose is bleeding…again.”

Kit does as he’s told. After a moment, he says your name. It’s soft and beautiful coming from his lips and you can barely focus long enough to hear his question. “Can I confess something to you?”

“I’m no priest or nun.” You start to dab at his nose with a damp towel.

“It’s not that kind of confession. I wasn’t just wandering for the sake of wandering. I was trying to come see you.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickering up to meet his. “Why?”

“I feel safe here.”

You go back to your work. “I’m glad you do, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt just to see me.”

“I didn’t know that asshole was gonna beat the shit out of me just for wandering.”

“Say you have cramps.”

Kit raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want to see me…I mean, come to the infirmary, tell a guard or one of my assistants that you have cramps or a stomachache. It’s something most people don’t question since stomach stuff is really common, ‘specially around here. It usually comes with vomiting or diarrhea and no one wants to deal with that.”

Kit smiles. “Good to know.”

You finish cleaning him up and add, “But don’t overuse the excuse. Otherwise, if something is really bothering you, they won’t listen.”

“Understood. Do you really think I have a concussion?”

“No. Your eyes are clear and you’re not slurring your words. I figured it would at least give you a little reprieve from everything out there.”

Kit’s smile widens. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I will have to at least keep your feet bound. That way if the guard comes back, I can quickly bind your hands before they enter. The lock will only temporarily slow them down since they have keys.”

“Hey, if it means spending time here with you instead of out there with everyone else who thinks I’m a vicious murderer, I’ll take it.”

Once you have him settled in the bed, you give him a cigarette before going about your daily routine. It is nice having Kit there. Occasionally, you talk as he smokes, but for the most part, the both of you enjoy each other’s company. He asks you about yourself, minor things, nothing too personal or probing, which you appreciate. You feel like he’s also trying to keep some distance between you, understanding your position and what a friendship with him could mean.

A few hours later, when you hear footsteps coming your way, you quickly bind Kit’s hands.

It takes a second for the door to be unlocked but then it opens and Dixon enters just as you’re pretending to check Kit’s bandages. “Walker here needs to see the shrink,” he says gruffly, crossing the room towards you.

“I was just about to call you.” Your lie is so effortless it even impresses you. “He doesn’t have a concussion. You can take him.”

Dixon is rough as he unbinds Kit and yanks him off the bed. To his credit, Kit doesn’t fight back or resist, understanding the stupid rules he needs to follow if he’s going to get anywhere in this place. Once he’s gone, you start to wrap up for the day, finishing any last minute tasks before getting ready to go home. As you’re straightening up your desk, your eyes catch the medication logbook, and an idea strikes you.

Sitting down, you flip through the pages, taking a look at the medications that are prescribed to each patient. At the bottom of the list is Kit’s name and, with a quick flick of your pencil, you manage to subtly cut his doses in half. It’s not much. You wish you can outright stop giving him the meds but that’s impossible. Hopefully, this way he’ll start to feel like himself.

You expect to be worried or guilty for what you’ve done. But honestly, you don’t. It feels right. Far too many patients have lost themselves in Briarcliff and you’re determined not to let Kit be one of them.

---

Kit’s world is not even recognizable anymore. One day he’s home with his beautiful wife, the next, she’s gone, and the police are accusing him of murder. He sees those damn creatures every time he closes his eyes, hears that loud noise echoing in his ears. If it’s not that he’s hearing, it’s the screams of the other patients.

When he saw you for the first time, heard you snap at the guard for mistreating him, he thought he was still dreaming. You have to be a dream. Nothing that good or sweet can possibly exist in this place. The way you look at him makes him feel seen for the first time in months.

He can’t get you out of his mind. After that initial visit, all he could think about was your warm embrace and the concern in your eyes.

To have someone care enough to worry about him meant everything. Especially during such a dark time. Trying to sneak away to see you had been a stupid idea but one he thought was worth the risk. He needed to know if he would have the same feelings each time, the same security and comfort. Do you really believe him or are you just a great actress?

The second time, you’re just as kind and generous as the first, and Kit knows that he is in trouble. A different kind of trouble than he already is in. This one is emotionally based and has the potential to end very badly.

Kit knew himself well enough to recognize the signs that he is falling for someone. You have only known each other a short while but already he can’t get you out of his mind.

The day following his first appointment with Dr. Thredson, he sees you in the Day Room and has to stop himself from immediately going over. It’s clear you’re busy, making the rounds and checking in on the other patients. Kit watches from a distance, smoking a cigarette as he leans against the back wall. Your kindness extends to everyone you come in contact with. He watches with admiration as you sit patiently with Pepper, checking on the small scrapes and abrasions she has.

You smile and his breath gets caught in his throat. Fuck you’re gorgeous.

Curiously, Kit watches as you slip something into Pepper’s hands before moving on to someone else. It turns out to be a small chocolate, which Pepper immediately devours before going back to her book. Kit smiles.

You catch each other’s eyes across the room just then. It’s a charged moment, like nothing in the world matters but the two of you. He makes a move to walk towards you, unable to help himself anymore. But then meds are called, and the moment is lost. Kit stubs out his cigarette and gets behind Lana as everyone lines up for their medications.

“This is bullshit,” Lana mutters under her breath. “Not all of us need medication. I don’t like that they force it on us. Makes my head all foggy.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Kit asks, echoing your sentiment from the day before. “Keep us under control.”

“I have a point. One I’d like to shove right up their asses.”

Kit snorts at Lana’s blunt phrasing. At first, she had been weary of him but now the two have developed a mutual understanding. Neither one of them belongs there and it’s better to support each other than fight. The line moves and Kit watches you join your assistant to make the medication process go faster.

When it’s his turn, you hand him his cup and briefly, his hands touches yours. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through your fingertips and into his, coursing through his veins at such a speed it makes his head spin. On the outside however, he remains calm, bringing the cup up to his lips to knock back his meds. Except, he notices they look slightly different than the days before. His eyes briefly dart to yours and there’s a subtle change in your expression. Your eye closes just enough to seem like a wink without fully being one.

Kit downs the meds with less hesitation than before.

Sadly, he can’t talk to you after that. Once meds are distributed, you go back to the infirmary and he’s left alone once more. Briefly he considers faking a stomachache to see you again, but your warning is still ringing in his ears. The fact that you offered him the excuse was risky on your part. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble by overstaying his welcome in the infirmary. Even though he is curious about the medication change, he lets it go.

It’s not until he’s in his room that night that he realizes he’s feeling clear-headed. Usually, once lights out comes around, the meds have him so loopy he rolls over and goes to sleep. Or at least tries. This time, however, he feels more like himself. Of course, that also means he’s more aware of the dark and the loud screams, but once they subside, he’s left with silence and his own thoughts.

She must have lowered my meds or something. She’s fucking amazing.

Kit smiles, curling onto his side as he allows himself to think about you without worry or fear. Again and again your meetings replay in his mind and when he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. The way your soft hands gently held his made him flex his fingers instinctively. Those lips of yours…he’d given anything to kiss them.

Kit’s eyes fly open when he feels his cock swell. It’s been so long since he’s felt any kind of sexual desire even before being medication. It’s a wonderful change of pace, however now he has a slight problem. Kit feels ashamed of himself for thinking of you sexually. All you’ve done is show him kindness and he’s thinking about doing all sorts of things to you. With a frustrated sigh, he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

This turns out to be a bad idea. The pressure of his body against the hard mattress causes wonderful friction and Kit finds himself pressing his hips down for some semblance of relief.

Fuck it, he thinks, shoving his hand in his pants. I need this right now. I need her.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this himself. It takes a second to find the right angle and rhythm. He stays on his stomach, arching his back just enough to give his hand room as he jerks himself off. Burying his face in his pillow, he bites down to stifle his moans as he pictures you in your nurse’s uniform. The way it hugs your frame suddenly assaults his vision. When you had leaned over him to check his head, he had caught just the barest hint of cleavage. Then, he had purposefully closed his eyes to be respectful.

Now, it’s all he focuses on, thinking about how he’d love to run his tongue across your salty flesh while his hands cupped your tits. He’d bury his nose in your skin and inhale your scent before kissing and sucking every bit of you he could reach.

Would you moan his name? He bets you would, and he bets it would sound fucking fantastic.

Kit grips himself tighter, speeding up his movements as he keeps the fantasy going in his mind. Suddenly, the angle is too constricting, and he rolls onto his back, biting his bottom lip as he hand brings him closer to coming.

He pictures it being your hand. Pictures him laying in that hospital bed, you leaning over him and jerking him off as you watch his face. He thinks of you telling him to come for you and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he explodes, coming all over his own hand as he quietly moans your name.

Sweating and panting, Kit lays there in his bed, heart racing and head spinning. He uses his blanket to clean himself up, tossing it onto the floor before curling into a ball. He expects the shame or guilt to hit him any moment, but he can’t find it in himself to feel either. All he feels is aching in his heart for the real thing.

The next morning, when they open the cells, he remains in bed. Once he hears the guard come closer, Kit begins to moan in agony, clutching his stomach.

Thankfully, Hardy is the one who check on him. Ever since you told him off, he’s been mostly tolerable to Kit. At least to his face.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asks.

“My stomach,” Kit moans. “I think…I think I ate something bad.” When Hardy kicks Kit’s soiled blanket aside, he adds, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I felt real sick last night.”

Hardy wrinkles his nose and gestures for Kit to get up. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Laying on the theatrics, Kit forces himself up, still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

You’re sitting at your desk when he enters. The morning light is filtering in through the barred windows and it catches you ever so slightly. Enough to almost make Kit forget he’s supposed to be in great pain. When you see him, your face grows concerned.

“This one is moaning about a stomachache,” Hardy says. “Where do you want him?”

To his dismay, Kit notices you’re not alone today. There’s a patient asleep in one of the other beds. You’re out of your chair in a second, pressing one of those soft hands to his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” Your ability to lie so smoothly makes Kit admire you even more. “Here, let’s get him on this bed right here.”

Hardy and you help Kit onto one of the beds in the corner of the room, one that’s hidden behind a divider. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you say, tucking Kit in. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ve told the cook a million times they need to store the food better.”

“Think he needs to be tied down?” Hardy asks.

“No, of course not. Have you ever dealt with a patient who’s tied down and soiling themselves? My job is hard enough as it is. I won’t be dealing with that today.”

Kit makes retching noises if for no other reason than to see Hardy grow pale and uncomfortable.

“Oh, you better go before he starts up,” you urge, shooing the guard away.

Kit keeps up the act until he hears the door close and you turn to him, giving him a wide smile. “Wow, bravo. Great work, Kit.”

He smiles, sitting up. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll have a shot as an actor when this is all over.”

You chuckle and glance over at your other patient to make sure he’s still sleeping before sitting on the chair by Kit’s bed. “How are you really feeling this morning?”

“Better, actually. Do I have you to thank for that?”

“Well…it did seem overkill to have you on such high doses of medication when you aren’t mentally unstable. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you off them completely.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kit says, reaching out to lay his hand over yours. “If anything, I’m sorry for you having to take that risk. I don’t want you to get in trouble, or worse, because of me.”

You look down at his hand and he immediately draws it back, worrying he may have crossed a line. There’s something in your expression that puts him on edge. He can see that you’re struggling, which only makes him feel worse. He berates himself for foolishly giving into his desires. Already things are tough, and the future is scarily uncertain. He’s on the hook for murder for fuck’s sake.

Before Kit can continue the self-deprecating spiral, you surprise him by carefully getting out of your seat and sitting next to him on the bed.

“Kit…” you say. “This friendship between us…I don’t know if it can continue.”

Kit’s heart sinks and he looks away from you, his gaze now fixated on the floor. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not safe being near me in any way. Honestly, it was stupid of me to come here like that. As much as I like spending time with you, I never want to put you in a compromising position. I’ve seen these guards and I know how they treat women. You’re in just as much danger here as I am.”

Your hand takes his, and he snaps his head up to look at you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say. For the first time since you met a few days ago, he hears the slightest crack in your voice. “I’m worried because, if we continue this friendship, I know that for me, one day, it might not be enough.”

His heart speeds up at your confession. Kit can’t believe his ears. The fact that you are feeling even the slightest bit of the attraction to him that he’s been feeling for you is enough to give him the sliver of hope that’s been severely lacking over the last few weeks.

Kit hesitantly links his fingers with yours, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. When he says your name, his throat is dry, and he has to clear it before he can go on. “I have no right liking you as much as I do. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but think that you’re my damn guardian angel. Because of you, I’m actually starting to think that maybe there’s a way out of this. Or at the very least, staying here won’t be so bad so long as you’re here.”

Your gaze softens and you look away, trying to hide the tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. With his free hand, Kit reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb. He can’t stop himself from cupping your cheek, needing to feel the warmth and softness against his palm. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale escaping through your parted lips.

Your lips.

Kit’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. They look so inviting. He bets they’re just as soft as the rest of you, maybe even more so. Without even stopping to think what he’s doing, he starts to lean in, so slowly that you don’t seem to notice until you open your eyes to meet his. You pull your head back. Not abruptly or angrily, but enough where he gets the message to stop. Kit sighs with disappointment at the refusal. But a second later, you’re leaning in this time, at the same achingly slow pace he had been before.

Your lips brush and there’s a heated charge that soars between you, making you pause before you even properly get a kiss. Your eyes are wide as they meet his, searching for the same thing he’s looking for in yours: permission, acceptance, desire.

Kit closes the distance.

With one hand still cradling your face, he kisses you deeply, drawing your body as close to his as he dares. He feels you melt under his touch and it urges him to keep going, to keep kissing you, to deepen the kiss so he can savor the intense waves of desire washing over him.

You let him, opening your mouth so that his tongue can glide along yours.

It all becomes too intense for the both of you and you have to break the kiss, panting as your foreheads rest against one another’s.

“This is such a bad idea,” you say, the breathlessness of your voice making Kit’s cock twitch. “We have to be smart and we have to be careful. If we really can’t stay apart, then you have to listen to what I say and follow my instructions. Okay?”

“I can do that,” Kit says. He’d honestly agree to anything you say at that point. “Trust me, baby. I know the stakes.”

“Me too.” You take a deep breath and pull away, breaking all contact with him. It immediately leaves him cold and wanting more. “My assistants will be coming to collect the meds any moment. I need to go prepare.”

You reach out to cup his cheek and Kit holds your wrist, keeping your hand there for another moment so he could savor the contact. The way your eyes soften at him only makes him want to kiss you again. Instead, he settles for a peck on your palm before letting you fully pull away.

As you stand and collect yourself, you take a step towards the divider before you pause and look back at him. “No one can know, Kit. Not if you want to stay under my care. If anyone finds out there’s something between us, they’ll transfer me somewhere else and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The fact that you’re scared for him in this scenario and not yourself makes Kit want to throw you on the bed and ravish you. “I promise, I will find a way to clear my name,” he says. “Then once I’m out of here, I’ll take you away. Far away where this place can’t reach us.”

You smile and reach out to stroke his cheek again. “Easy there, Mr. Walker,” you tease, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “Keep talking like that and I may think you’re already falling for me.”

He watches you walk away, only one thought on his mind. Too late for that.

#kit walker #evan peters #ahs asylum #kit walker x reader #kit walker x you

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enjolrasesque · 3 years

Text

Letters of Starsea

posting my Violet Evergarden AU fic here because why not?

word count: 6.4k

also in ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32894488/chapters/81632011

Chapter 1: From the Bottom of my Heart

The darkened skies over the horizon casted a gloomy gaze upon the world and the bustling Liyue Harbor seems to be livelier than it was in the morning. The streetlights and gaudy paper lanterns flickered to life on the busy streets. Guiding the people to their destinations, illuminating the roadside stalls and small shops and their products and wares up for bargaining.

Ajax always liked the atmosphere in Liyue no matter how humid it is compared to Snezhnaya; he always found himself coming back to the city. And now, he’s not alone as he traversed through the busy streets, trailing behind him is a lady of small stature with golden hair and golden doe eyes who never strayed and always followed him.

Tonight of course was no exception.

He could feel her presence, how she could never be bothered by things nor care for the noise and high spirits of her surroundings. The way she followed him like a lost puppy was adorable at an extent, but the more she sticked, the more it tore his heart to see her like that. So innocent yet…

Her presence waned, and he stopped his tracks to look back at her. She was standing in front of a little stall, finding her too enamored with whatever caught her eyes along the numerous precious gems and delightful trinkets the shop was selling.

“What’s the matter Lumine?”

She looked at him with those big golden eyes, “I see your eyes. It’s the same color as your eyes.”

He felt a lump grow on his throat and furrowed his brows in a mix of emotions too complicated to sort. Walking closer he looked upon the item she was eyeing. It was a lovely brooch a little smaller than the size of her small fists. Oval shaped sapphire framed on ornate gold, sparkling like the deep blue sea, so blue it drowned her. Pulled her until it swallowed her whole.

Lumine turned her eyes again to the brooch, clutching her chest, “When I saw it, I felt something. I wonder…”

“What is that feeling called?”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

It may not seem like it, but Scaramouche like taking walks to appreciate nature, but never in his life did he appreciate walking long distances, especially as the sun beats down on the earth like a madman. He really wanted to appreciate the healthy marsh of Dihua—vast skies and clear waters, graceful cranes flocking with one another—but it bothers him how his black shirt clung on his chest as sweat trickled from his forehead; his large hat didn’t help with repelling the heat flaring from the ground.

Unfortunately, as much of a prick he is said to be, he owed his dear friend a promise. Now here he was unable to take a leisurely stroll before going to work and instead in front of a quaint hospital far away from the capital city of another nation, ready to fetch the Battle Doll of Snezhnaya as per his friend’s request.

The Battle Doll’s existence is kept under the wraps. Those who knew of her were her comrades during the war and the enemies who saw her unmatched prowess, either way, both parties who knew her took her as a blade who would cut anyone’s throat... A gun who would shoot your enemies on the temple. A girl barely with human qualities (whatever makes a human) who will fight and win battles as she was ordered to. A mindless bomb that would kill without second thoughts once detonated.

The large Cuihua door of the small hospital opened, revealing a nurse who bowed to him with respect, “Master Harbinger, please, follow me.”

The interior of the hospital wasn’t that bad for a hospital far from the city, the wooden walls were painted beige, unlit seashell lamps on the wall as the sun beamed happily through the numerous windows along the building.

BANG! A loud clatter was heard along the corridors, snapping Scaramouche’s appraisal as he took off his hat. The nurse hurriedly excused herself as she followed the sound, Scaramouche jogging along with her.

“Ah! Miss Lumine!” the nurse gasped at the scene they arrived to, the girl was on the floor bandages on her arms and patches on her head, papers and a quill littering around her.

The Battle Doll looked vulnerable at this state. Ah, no. Scaramouche corrected himself, that was not the word appropriate to use... although it held truth. She did not look vulnerable. Rather she looked normal. Not unlike what she was painted as, a heartless tool who only knows to follow the orders she’s directed to do.

He crouched and decided to help the nurse raise her up with the nurse inquiring: “Are you hurt?”

The Battle Doll of Snezhnaya… No… Lumine, Scaramouche found correcting himself again, did not answer the question. Her lips were pursed as she started looking around for more. Fliting her pupils around and to the door wide open before finally speaking. “Where is he? Where’s Master Ajax?”

The mauve haired man anticipated this of course and answered in an even tone: “He’s not here.”

“Where is he? Is he back at home? Is he on leave? How about his injuries?” the girl’s question and tone did not falter, and Scaramouche could only listen. “He had grave injuries! How is he? He’s alive right?”

Scaramouche was taken aback by the girl’s actions, he already knew of the clear attachment and perhaps even reverence that she held for his coworker, but he was certainly shocked to see it first-hand.

“Ah good news Miss Lumine,” the nurse decided to chime in. “You can be discharged now. Master Harbinger Scaramouche came all the way here to pick you up.

“Ah,” he got up, taking a few pieces of paper from the floor in the process, “Yes.”

Lumine hastily got up and offered a salutation, “Pardon me, Master Harbinger Scaramouche.”

“At ease, Lumine.”

“I am terribly sorry to report that I could not remember your name and rank, my lord.”

“That matters little. Now take a seat. Do you remember me?”

“Yes. We met twice. First at the training barracks and second at the night before the final battle.”

“What were you doing?” he glanced at the remaining papers and quill set down by the nurse to the overhead table. A piece of paper, clearly meant to be a letter, caught his eyes.

“I am writing a report for Master Ajax. I was told that putting pen to paper would also help in my recovery. What happened to him?”

Seems there really was no stopping this girl from inquiring about the red headed dumbass, the short man sighed, “That idiot Childe asked me to come here and fetch you."

“I see, he’s alive and well. The doctors and nurses said we won the war. When will I rendezvous with him?”

He did not answer, waving his hands to dismiss her thoughts, “Get dressed. I’ll call us a ride.”

The vehicle arrived a little longer than anticipated, some moments later after lunch. Perhaps it was because of how far Dihua is from the capitol, and the tides washing the roads made it a little hard for to pass through that vehicles had to take a detour through the forest.

“Here are your belongings,” the nurse smiled at Lumine, handing her a brown suitcase, “The courier said that it came a little later as it was mistakenly shipped off to another camp.”

Lumine hurriedly opened the suitcase, inspecting all her items with hastiness, “My brooch…” she murmured. Her aloof face paired with her fiery golden eyes looked at the nurse, her voice raised. “Where’s my sapphire brooch?”

“Ah, but they said that’s the only items found on your headquarters and by your side.”

Lumine locked her swiftly, standing up so fast that Scaramouche felt he would be dizzy if he did the same. “I see. Then I must look for it if it’s not here.” Dragging her still recovering body with her tiny feet as fast as she could, she jogged down the road, causing the purple haired Harbinger to sigh, feeling a migraine forming from the heat, with a dash of forcing himself to be cordial, and a sprinkle of the girl’s stubbornness in relation to Ajax. He yanked her arm to stop her, looking at her eyes with impasse.

“It’s important! It’s a gift from Master Ajax!”

With a sigh, Scaramouche let her arm go and rubbed his temples, “Fine. I’ll find it for you. I promise.”

“Then make a pinkie promise!” she said, holding out a pinkie.

He indulged the girl holding out his pinky the girl quickly latching hers with his. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again.” They said synchronously both with detachment, but with Lumine doing it anyway as her Master Ajax taught her, though Scaramouche’s compliance bordered to annoyance.

‘Ah, yes’, he thought after hearing those rhymes again. Snezhnayans and their vodka, and their pinkie promises and morbid nursery rhymes as intense as the cold winters of the nation. Scaramouche was thankful that even though he grew up in the said country he didn’t adapt all those nonentities, but one will say, a certain blockhead with ginger haired called Childe, maybe those macabre nursery rhymes are suitable for Scaramouche’s height and his violent nature. The ginger idiot even passed his idiocy on to Lumine, how charming.

“Alright, now that we’re done let’s get moving… As Childe's order.”

There was hesitance on her being but nonetheless after a few heart beats passed, “Roger that.”

The silence as they traversed the roads on the thicket didn’t last long, as once again, Lumine asked about the Harbinger she serves. “Master Scaramouche, when will Master Ajax give me my next assignment? Some missions may be beyond me while I am at this state, but...”

“Lumine,” he cut her off. Perhaps it was time for him to heed Mona’s advice. Scaramouche lifted his hat from across the car, grabbing four, small stuffed animals: a lemon-colored bunny, a cat as black as soot, a red fox, and a gray owl. “Let’s celebrate your discharge, choose one. I don’t know your preferences, so I bought all of it.”

“I don’t need them.”

Scaramouche hid his crestfallen look— ‘So much for this to cheer people up huh? Thanks to nothing Mona!’ he thought. But of course, he won’t falter, he knew that in some ways he can coax the girl to choose one. Maybe tell her its an order, but again, upon request, he can’t treat the Battle Doll of Snezhnaya as a Battle Doll but rather as a normal girl.

“Let’s say the sun will fall upon the world if you don’t choose one… Pick!”

“One… Two…”

“The fox then.”

“Great!” he sighed inwardly. While he did have money for that luxury, he has more important things to put his money on. And now that he thought of it, perhaps Mona just wanted some stuffed animals and somehow with her weird hydromancy knows that he’ll not give all the toys to the girl.

Lumine gingerly took the item, squishing the soft material, pulling it closer to her face.

“Why did you choose the fox?”

“It’s the closest to a dog and Master Harbinger’s older sister said I am Ajax’s dog.”

Scaramouche choked on nothing at her answer. The girl really has no awareness about society, and as for Childe’s older sister… that woman really doesn’t know how to bite her tongue, and here he thought he was the most heartless of all the Harbingers. “Ahem. This journey will take a little while as the railroads are useless. Have you ever been to Snezhnaya?”

Lumine shook her head, “No.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Lumine’s moments during the final battle was marked with blood. So much blood that it soaked her and Childe’s military uniform like a heavy downpour of rain. The corridor they were staying on was dark and the deep night skies made the chambers darker. For Lumine, her Master Harbinger is her light. A beacon glowing beautifully despite all the blood seeping on his garb and his bleeding left eye.

“Lumine.” His boyish voice drew her in like a moth to a light. “You must live and be free.”

Her chest tightened, tears beginning to well upon her eyes. The feeling she couldn’t comprehend put a chokehold on her heart. There was too much going on in her mind and her heart is giving out too with just those thoughts and the scene in front of her. Her Master Harbinger covered in his own blood; blue eyes with tears threatening to spill.

“From the bottom of my heart…”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Snezhnaya is known for its long, severe winters, white blanketing the whole nation, but none talked much about its beauty during the spring, when the ice and snow thawed out giving way to grass patches littered with chamomile and golden root, a cool spring breeze whispering on the land. This is the kind of walks Scaramouche likes, not the blazing sun beating down in Dihua.

“Ajax was worried about your life after the war. He told me he wanted to leave you in the care of the Gunnhildr Family, a faraway relative that he trusts enough to care for you.” Scaramouche informed her once they were in front of the Gunnhildr manor. “The current master of the Gunnhildr agreed to take you in.”

The manor wasn’t too large but that made it look prettier in a sense. The house was made of gray and brownish bricks and blue green tiled roof, the walls had philameno mushrooms sticking from it as if it hasn’t been cleaned. The garden had firmly cut hedges and little pine trees, shrubs of different colors and sizes, but unlike the other gardens, instead of chamomile and tulips, there were a few rose bushes and seemingly a thousand of dandelions instead.

The pine door of the mansion opened before Lumine could speak, revealing a taller lady with blonde hair tied with a black bow in a ponytail and blue eyes the same color as her dress. She smiled, “Welcome.”

“Come, Lumine.” Scaramouche gestured for her to come closer to the stranger who will take her in. “This is Jean Gunnhildr, she was once the Acting Grandmaster of the academy we went in, although she’s not too far from our age, she’s also the next head of the Gunnhildr family.”

Lumine straightened her back and saluted, a serious look on her doll-like face. Jean smiled a little in shock and perhaps adoration at the girl’s antics while Scaramouche looked like he just tasted the worst chamomile tea in his life after that one time (when Childe gave him a chamomile tea that tasted like the man’s bullshit). Quickly regaining his composure, “Just a simple bow would be enough.”

The Gunnhildr’s sitting room had the atmosphere of something classic, ornate furniture of red pine wood, a soft, large, red carpet with the pattern of dandelions and wings, related to the Gunnhildr’s tight relation with the Nation of Freedom, tall but thin windows with red curtains parting to let light pass through. Glass lamps on the walls and pots and paintings of different flowers ranging from irises to violets and dandelions. The table was set with a cake stand filled with tiny desserts and steaming rose tea, the room smelled of ripe sunsettias and rose perfume.

Jean was the first to talk once they were seated comfortably, addressing how long the 6th of the 11 Harbingers came along with the girl. “I did not know that travelling from Dihua Marsh would take up to a week now.”

Scaramouche nodded, “Yes. Normally it would take only a couple of days or four at most, but the railways on Stone Gate had collapsed and it will take time to get it back on track.”

Jean looked at the other blonde who was silently listening and patiently seated, though her golden eyes were far off from the reality she’s currently on. “Lumine, drink up.” She offered with a smile.

The girl of course, nodded at the order, her bandaged hands grasping the clear glass cup of rose tea. The lady of the Gunnhildr gasped as she saw the unstable rocking of the teacup on her hands, “Lumine, oh, Archons, pardon me! Do not push yourself!”

But what was done is done. The teacup fell back on its saucer the rose tea and petals spilling on the table, drenching one of her bandaged hands.

“Oh!” Jean stood up, not wanting to make the injuries of the girl worse, “You’ll get burned!”

“Please do not worry. I do not feel heat.”

“But we must use another bandage after that! Noelle, bring us some ice!”

The maid behind them nodded and followed up to the directions quickly. “Yes ma’am.” Lumine acted first before anything, her other hand started taking off the bandages doused with hot tea, pulling the eyes of everyone on the room. Her bandages fell to her lap, revealing that instead of warm porcelain skin the same color of her face, the supposed gentle arms of a young lady were made of cold and hard metal.

“My arms are made of adamantine. They may seem clumsy, but they are very sturdy. I’m just not used to them,” she raised her bandaged arms as she looked at Jean’s concerned face, the joints and all the spaces glittering in metallic sheen. “But I believe they will act just like another part of my body.”

Jean’s look was now etched with a serene smile after a few moments, she admires this girl, that’s what she decided from then on. “Please come with me for a moment.”

Following Jean was Lumine and Scaramouche to a room just a little away from the sitting room, filled with pictures of Jean herself, and perhaps her parents, and one portrait of Jean and a young girl with two curly pigtails that Lumine thinks she remembers.

“Here,” Jean turned and offered Lumine a pair of black gloves with a purple rose embroidered on each, “I used to wear them when I was still in the academy.”

Scaramouche nodded, remembering the times Jean did her rounds at the academy in her signature gloves with embroidered roses, always holding one cane on her hand to whack students almost of her age to go forth to their respective classes. “Try them on.”

The smaller blonde took the gloves from Jean’s hands, and with the help of her teeth, she managed to put them on her hands thoroughly.

“It fits you perfectly.”

“Truly.”

“Alright, I’m taking my leave then. I must get back to the office.” Scaramouche spoke as Lumine glanced at the gloves covering her hand. “Lumine. Be good and listen to Jean, understood?”

“It’s alright, I’m sure Lumine is a wonderful girl, Barbara told me so.” Jean looked at Lumine, “Think of us as your real family, okay? You can talk to me with whatever concerns you.”

“I never had a family. I do not need a new one,” spoke Lumine’s monotonous voice.

“A family makes one’s life better at most,” Jean spoke, “Me and my late sister only have our father left but then Barbara died when helping during the war.”

“I cannot be a replacement for Miss Barbara.”

“Lumine,” Scaramouche started sternly, his authoritative aura slipping through. “Childe wants you to live a happy and fulfilled life in this household. I’m sure you understand that… Right?”

Scaramouche already knows it, but the Battle Doll of Snezhnaya was very persistent with anything related to the 11th Harbinger. So, when the door of the Gunnhildr’s mansion opened revealing Lumine, it wasn’t much a shock either.

“Why is Master Ajax putting me here? Is it because I lost my arms and my value as a weapon?” She asked him, slowly walking towards him with those ever fire in her eyes, the only thing constant in her nonetheless emotionless face, “I know that if I train again, I can fight like before!”

“Lumine, the war is over.”

“I’m the 11th Harbinger’s tool,” she declared. “But if I am no longer needed, then dispose of me. Please cast me aside and throw me somewhere else.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

He is a dick. That much was evident, but as for the few days he had spent with Childe’s little lady, he found out he too can be civil. He is a dick but that doesn’t mean he had the heart to snap to the girl who carried herself like a soldier, looked like a doll, but is just a little girl deep inside. And hearing those pitiful words from her, it took Scaramouche’s brain to thinking that maybe he can convince Mona to adopt this girl instead. Fuck making babies, Lumine will be their child.

Besides, despite treating her as a normal person, he still understands that the girl lived off Childe’s orders and leaving her in the Gunnhildr’s without a direction would leave a bad taste on his mouth… and if Mona hears it, it will lead to the raven-haired girl telling him to square up.

“Master Harbinger.”

“While I do like the title, there’s no need to call me that anymore, I’ve quit military.” He told her as they walked to his office.

“Then how should I address you?”

“Boss.” He answered once they stopped on a large building of orange and red bricks. “I own this company here.” Opening the large double doors of the building gave sight to the charming workplace. It was bright and cheery, a little calm despite the hustle and bustle of the workers and customers on the area. The windows were big enough that sunlight passed through despite the birch desks and shelves lined up perfectly against it, women and men in black and purple uniform with pretty impressions accompanied with amiable voices. “The first floor has the office and the ghostwriting department.”

“Ghostwriting?”

“Not everyone can write you know,” he explained, “Thus we write letters as per client’s requests.”

“I couldn’t either.” Lumine answered, “Not until Master Ajax taught me.”

Scaramouche hummed in response, continuing to walk to his office and talked more about the company, explaining how he used his money to buy an old mansion after retiring from the war and all that, “I always thought of opening up a business once the war ended, preferably just to not hear the other Harbinger’s bitching and all that, I had no idea what business though. Then Mona pointed out that the government’s postal services is not available to civilians, so she suggested this line of business.”

“Anyway, Lumine Gunnhildr, since Childe… no, Tartaglia left you on my hands, I will be the one giving out your orders instead. You serve a purpose, and my order for you is to work… Here.”

That was probably the longest while Scaramouche’s mouth didn’t spout any insults, however now that he can sense Thoma was somewhere hidden on the shelves, he decided to fuck with it, the girl met him as a vulgar higherup during their servitude to military anyway. “Thoma!”

“What do you want you midget?”

Lumine turned her attention to the direction of the voice while Scaramouche’s head ticked at the tone and choice of words, “You mean, ‘What can I do for you, boss’?”

The man named Thoma showed himself, he was tall, like her Master Ajax, with long, dark blond hair and friendly green orbs, he sighed, his voice as severe as the emerald of his eyes, “Well, what the hell do you want?”

As swift as he is on the battlefield, Scaramouche grabbed a nearby book and slapped it on Thoma’s chin, the sound of a book meeting flesh and bones resonating the area.

“Ow! What was that for?”

Scaramouche didn’t bother to answer, and instead formally introduced the taller man to Lumine. “This is Thoma, he’s one of the postmen. We’ve been joined by the hip ever since and unfortunately for me a little closer when this company was founded. Thoma, this is Lumine, she’ll be joining you as a postman starting today.”

Lumine almost saluted again but quickly caught herself and instead opted to a simple bow.

“She’s a kid.”

“Well, are you telling me I look like one?”

“Well, you’re tiny and have that teenage angst so yes.”

Scaramouche knocked on Thoma’s stomach, now with his fist, earning a groan of pain from the taller man and started explaining, “Besides her ability to finish a mission is unmatched even if she is. I need to do other things so show her the way.”

Thoma sighed rubbing his reddening chin, signaling Lumine to follow him.

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

As Thoma showed the new girl around, he noticed how she wouldn’t react and how little she talked. Only speaking when spoken to and sporting an ever-inexpressive look on her face, saying “Understood” the way a soldier would. She was like a doll: silky sunshine hair, deep golden eyes, porcelain skin… and maybe an invisible control bar and strings that helps her do her limited actions.

“Here’s your uniform, go get changed.”

But if the girl wasn’t already like a doll, she seems to also have little knowledge of what can be seen as normal as she lifted her blouse in front of him ready to change her outfit as ordered. “Wait!” But Lumine didn’t wait so he decided to turn around and wait for her to finish.

Once she was done, Thoma reviewed how she looked on the uniform. And obviously, it was too baggy on her small frame, “It’s kinda too big on you.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Don’t you want to take of your gloves?”

And she did, pulling away the dark fabric from her metallic hands with her teeth. The metallic luster glimmered on Thoma’s face, but he wasn't detered, he wondered more about this girl’s ability to perform as a mailman than her prosthetics. “Would sorting mail be hard for you?”

“No, it shouldn’t pose a major problem.”

“Alright,” he took a letter from the table beside them, pointing at the address at the envelope, “Sort them by the street names written here and put them in that shelf.” He turned his finger to the nearby birch shelf where he was once preoccupied before Scaramouche’s and Lumine’s arrival. “We always have a ton of packages and mails, but you don’t have to rush your work. If you want to take a break, there’s a room on the second floor.”

Thoma gathered his bag and items, preparing to leave, and Lumine saluted, “Roger.”

“Later then,” the blond male smiled, excusing himself.

The sun has started setting when Thoma finished all his assigned deliveries due for the day. Much to his shock when came back, Lumine was till there, arranging and stacking the mails on the shelf as she was told to do so. The sunset that filtered through the windows offered little light needed but she didn’t stop.

“I’ll be finished with my assignment shortly,” Lumine spoke once she noticed his arrival.

“Did you take a break?”

“I’m used to operating in long hours.”

Thoma sighed, the girl didn’t answer his question directly, but it was enough confirmation that she indeed did not even stop once she started. “Make sure to take a break sometimes…, Would you like to try delivering next time?”

“Delivering?”

“Taking the mail to the address written on the envelope,” the girl glanced at the map of the Snezhnayan capital, Zapolyarny, on the wall, and Thoma continued, “Alright, I’m going home now. You should take a rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

When the clock ticked seven at night, Scaramouche found himself sitting on a bus, his shoulder tense from weariness after a meeting. “’We’ll consider an investment depending on your results’, what kind of bullshit is that? Hmm, but I guess that makes sense too.”

His purple gaze turned to the dim sky and then to the lantern lit streets of the city, there he could see from the bus’s window, a mailman with a cart filled with mail stood, “Huh? Night deliveries? I wonder when we’ll be able to do that.”

Fuck.

It was Lumine.

Oh dear Archons it was Lumine! He knew that golden hair that peeked on the mailman’s cap—as he's literally now her father—even without sufficient light to confirm it, he knew that it was the said girl, specially as he saw his company’s insignia on the cart.

Scaramouche quickly took off from the bus, following the little lady’s tracks, “Lumine!”

The girl turned to the man who looked as if he lost three years of his lifespan from stress, “What are you doing?” he asked once he caught up.

“A delivery run.”

“When I said try delivering next time, I meant tomorrow,” Thoma sighed, looking at the blonde girl who have yet to eat her meal.

Scaramouche shook his head, taking some sushi from the platter, “Also, take a break from work, you just got out of the hospital.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“It is a problem!” Thoma countered the girl, taking his own fill of food.

Their boss noticed Lumine’s untouched plate and added, “Lumine, you may eat.”

And only when she was ordered did the girl pick up the chopsticks in front of her, “I will. Thank you.”

“Once we’re done, I’ll walk you back to the office. The attic is the only available room but its already set up for you to stay there.” Gulping down his shot of sake, he continued, “The Gunnhildr also said that they’re still willing to support you until you find your track and if you are willing enough, maybe even work in their line of business, but as for living with them…”

Scaramouche and Lumine walked back to the office after parting ways with Thoma, basking under the night sky and nearly empty streets. He was late, maybe Mona will get angry with him, but he’s pretty sure her weird divinations will tell her that he is taking care of the girl Ajax has entrusted to him… to them.

“What were the last orders Childe gave you?”

“Run. Live free. Also… he said, ‘I’…” but the words did not slip away from Lumine’s mouth. Scaramouche didn't pay it any mind.

“Ever since your existence was revealed, you’ve spent your days with focusing on missions and completing them… Correct? That is done now, a new horizon awaits you where you can learn new things.” He stopped his tracks, pondering which words he should use to not sound offensive, although he is a naturally offensive person. “Though, I think it’s easier to live a life of blissful ignorance. I’m sure you have not realized it yet but everything you’ve done so far has caused a storm, and you are drowning deep into its flood.”

The girl looked at him curiously, then at her clothing and herself, “But I’m not even soaked.”

“Oh, but you are.”

“I am not. You do not make sense.”

“You are. As I said, you may have yet to realize it, but you definitely are.” Snippets of Lumine’s performance in the training camp a few years ago flashed on Scaramouche’s eyes, a little lady older than she looked, yet was innocent all the same. A little girl with red dripping on her ledger. “I pretended not to see it; I had a reputation to keep after all. But now that Childe has left you in my care, I think this is my chance to make amends.”

“You’ll understand me one day. Only then will you realize that the storms you’ve caused have drowned your lungs and you can barely breath.”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

A knock on the company’s door came first thing in the early morning while Lumine was cleaning the windows, a man came in and greeted her with a polite smile.

“Are you a Doll?”

“No. I’m Lumine.”

The man observed the evident uniqueness of the girl before continuing. A girl who wasn’t a doll, yet most certainly looks like one, “Well, Miss Lumine, I’d like to request a ghostwriting.”

“A ghostwriting?”

“Yes, I can’t write, but I want to. So, I’d like you to write a letter for me.”

“What would you want me to write?”

“You want to talk about that here and now?”

“Will that pose a problem?”

“Umm…” the man tottered but continued after, “It’s for a friend. I heard that she’s planning to get married with another man. So… I want you to tell her that—”

“Ah, good morning sir. May I ask what service you require here?” Another presence at the door came, revealing a gorgeous woman: tall, with wavy, honey brown hair, emerald eyes, fair skin, and a gentle velvety voice wearing a purple and white dress with open slits at the sides lined with gold, black lace stockings, black high heels, and a gold necklace with roses on her being.

“I-I’m here for a ghostwriting request.”

“Perfect!” she smiled sweetly, as sweet as the rose perfume that wafts around her. “Come.” She took a glance to Lumine, “You too sweetie.”

Once they settled in on the brunette lady’s desk, she quickly started typing, deciphering the words written deep inside the man’s heart. For Lumine, it felt like a walk to remember, every line the lady spoke that she was writing struck a lightning on her heart. Memories of her and her Master spiraling back to her.

She remembered the way he first wrapped his arms around her in their first meeting. His arms were warm and inviting, a cradle that tells her she is safe and sound as long as he was there.

She remembered how she always followed his steps, on training or in the battlefield. A mop of ginger hair became too familiar, and it made her feel like she’s truly there and existing… With him. And those battles they spent with one another, striking enemies down to ensure they would stay alive and see each other again.

The times where he would look at her with such intense emotions on his eyes—one she could only dream to decipher, before they go to the battlefield. Before he orders his men to charge into a bloodbath.

“We may be far away from one another now but I… I love you.” Those words from the beautiful Doll snapped Lumine back to the reality in front of her. She kept working and asked the man. “Is that alright?”

“Yes!” the man nodded fervently, completely satisfied with the woman’s work.

The violet rose lady smiled and spoke again, “I love you” as if testing how the words would sound from her voice. She heated up a red wax, using it to seal the letter she had just finished writing. Gently pushing the seal on the envelope. “Please take this to the ground floor and complete the mailing paperwork.” She stood up, showing her beautiful figure and elegance, a gentle smile on her lips. “Thank you very much for using our Auto Memoir Doll service, sir.”

The man left after returning a bow to the beautiful brunette who turned to Lumine who was standing in front of her work stall, “And who are you cutie?”

“How could you tell?”

“Huh?”

“How could you tell that man wanted to say ‘I love you’?”

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Later after that encounter, Scaramouche found Lumine in front of his desk, asking for a new job description.

“You want to work in the Auto Memoir Dolls?”

Yes. I’m still having a hard time when holding a pen, but I am able to use the typewriter.”

“No,” Scaramouche cut her off before she could get into more details, “I’m asking why you want to be a Doll.”

“I want to know what I love you means!” she declared, she felt herself gripping on her long, blue skirt. “After giving me his final orders, Master Harbinger Tartaglia spoke those words to me.”

Scaramouche already knew at some deepest depths of his heart that his dear friend held those feelings for the girl he took in but hearing it from a girl who is literally unable to lie was something else. And one with little understanding to emotions too.

“That was the first time I heard him say it. I can’t understand it, but I want to.” The grip on her skirt tightened as she spoke, and Scaramouche noticed that his hands were balled into fists and unclasped it.

“To understand those words is what makes an Auto Memoir Doll. But I’ll give you a pass.”

After doing nothing but following Ajax’s orders for so long, for the first time, the girl made a step for herself.

The girl they called a tool without a mind of her own, wanted to know what 'I love you' means.

☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆♆☆

Her other arm fell like it was nothing as bullet passed through it making Ajax’s face contort with more horror than when he realized they were both drenched in blood of their own and their enemies.

“I swear! I swear I won’t let you die Master Harbinger!” she declared so fervently once she turned to him, tears welling on the corner of her eyes as she tried to carry him with her bare teeth as both arms already severed.

“Stop.”

Lumine dragged him as much as her teeth could pull, Ajax knew it was hopeless for him. But for her, she could. She can live and taste what being a normal girl is like. As she should. As she deserved. Not a life of blood and killing, and bombs and guns. None of that.

“That’s enough!” he managed to muster his authoritative voice to the girl, and she did what he wanted. “You must live. Lumine… You must live and be free.”

She just looked at him, her mouth pursed, and her eyes glazed. But he knew, oh he knew the girl would not come to understand it that moment why she was feeling it. Why her body shook as she cried so viciously. That it was not just the injuries that seared through them like flames and poison.

“From the bottom of my heart,” he looked at her angelic face golden eyes glossed with tears, she looked so young… so young compared to her age and the things she was ordered to do, and the things she was willing to do. A tear fell from his eye as he spoke. “I love you.”

#chilumi #childe x lumine #am still engrossed with them bye-

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Breathe ~ Doctor (part 1)

A/n: So I had a FANTASTIC idea and had to write it. The first part is all of the experience with 9 in one part. I so hope you enjoy this introduction, and allow it to take you on a journey with me that I have been having far too much fun exploring.

Word Count: 11,000+

MASTERLIST

Rose Tyler had three people in her life that were a constant.

Her mother, first of all. The woman might be a little annoying from time to time, gossiping and being pushy and demanding and wasting money on parties and dramatics. She was a good woman though, with a large heart. She had, after all, raised Rose by herself and the girl had come out brilliantly.

Then there was Mickey. Mickey was Rose's boyfriend. He was... cool, I guess. There was definitely more to him than others cared to dig for. Even he himself didn't know his full potential, and it put a stopper on him quite a bit. He was fine enough, and obviously cared for Rose, but he tended to be a bit... distracted, and oblivious. Desperate, maybe.

Y/n sure didn't approve of him, but as Rose's best friend he had long since learned to accept the man. Y/n was very good at filling in the spaces where Mickey lacked. He was attentive and listened to Rose talk for hours. That was perhaps the biggest reason he didn't like Mickey too much. Rose complained a lot. Y/n fancied himself an artist. He and Rose had met when he'd tried to do street art to get some attention, but it was more hussle than it was worth. The best thing that came out of it was his friendship with Rose.

There was something odd about Y/n, Rose was sure. The man was usually very open and honest - unless it came to any and all talk about relationships. Rose had long since stopped asking, but others hadn't. Every time his love life was brought up, he clammed shut and got very bitey. No one was sure why, but it happened every time without fail. His reaction didn't get any more or less violent, either. No one could wear him out or get him to snap. He just got tense and irritable until you stopped talking, and then the mood was usually ruined the rest of the day.

It was a silver lining, though. Otherwise Y/n was extremely pleasant and had no problems talking about other peoples' relationships or love lives. Y/n never encouraged Rose to be single or to dump Mickey - as long as everyone was happy, you could talk about anything in your life without any back lash. Rose got along and they didn't talk about it and that was that.

Then the Doctor happened.

Rose and Y/n didn't lie to each other. They'd formed a friendship on if you didn't want something known, you didn't mention it until you were ready to talk about it with a level head. No matter what, they didn't lie. They just kept their mouths shut. So when the Doctor entered Rose Tyler's life and her mom took up the phones like usual and Mickey ran off to the bar to watch the game, Rose pulled Y/n into her room and told him everything.

"No," Y/n mumbled. It wasn't that he didn't believe her. Rose Tyler wasn't insane, and they didn't lie to each other. He knew that, logically, if she said it, it was true. That didn't stop the fact that his mind rejected what she was telling him.

"Yes!" Rose gushed, nodding eagerly. "He's got this weird screw driver, except it's got no head, just a little light at the end. And mannequins - they moved. He's the one that blew up my job."

Y/n allowed him a second to process that before responding. Rose stayed silent as well, waiting for him to speak again before she said more. "And he said his name was what?"

"The Doctor. Sounds like a mad man, huh?"

A sort of amused snort came from Y/n then. "No shit." He shook his head. "Hold on, I need air." They began to walk out when the doggy door suddenly blew in. Y/n and Rose both jumped, before Rose yelled something at her mom about not nailing the flap shut like she said she would. But when Y/n kneeled down, he picked up nails off of the ground, holding them up for Rose to see. "I think she actually did, Rosey."

The two locked eyes and then both gazes shot to the flap as it suddenly moved again. Rose went to stick her head down there but Y/n wasn't having any of that. He nudged her with his foot, grabbing the bat by the door he had insisted the Tyler's kept at the ready. Two women living alone needed some way to protect themselves. Not necessarily a man - no woman NEEDED a man, even Y/n knew that - but something. Now it came in handy as he hefted, swinging the door open as Rose scrambled to her feet behind him.

A man stood there. He wore a leather jacket and had an odd expression on his face. "Hello," Y/n greeted, unsure.

"Hello," the man responded back. He lifted a long, odd object and pressed a button, running the object down Y/n's body as if... scanning him.

It clicked in Y/n's brain far too quickly. The thing glowed at the end that was pointed at Y/n, and it made a buzzing noise. The man was weird and smiled too wide. Even the leather jacket was there. "You're the Doctor."

The Doctor's smile grew. "Normally I have to introduce myself. It's usually a bad sign when someone knows my name, but you're not made of plastic so I can't imagine what I'd have to be worried about. Are you made of plastic by chance?"

"No," Y/n answered calmly. He was processing Rose's story at hyper speed now. It only made sense that a man like this would be attached to a world where plastic came alive and tried to kill you. The night seemed bright around him. There was something odd about his presence, like seeing cartoon and live action mixing between characters and background. The Doctor didn't belong here, and it was obvious in every move he made.

The Doctor nodded. "Suppose I'll be on my way then."

"You will not," Rose spoke up, grabbing the man's arm around Y/n and pulling all of them. "I have questions and this time you WILL answer them."

That simple action changed the lives of Rose Tyler, the Doctor, and everyone they cared about so much that none of them would ever be able to go back. Honestly though, none of them would have it any other way. Except maybe Jackie.

"Doctor?" Y/n turned to the other man, who hummed without looking over. The Doctor's eyes were trained on the end of the world. As were Rose's. Y/n couldn't keep looking. Something had stuck in his head. Something that made him even more sick than the sight of an empty planet being consumed in a universe that had long since been done with it. "The woman before. She said something about your planet. Something about you being impossible."

The Doctor got a very dark look on his face then. "I suppose I am rather impossible." He shrugged, obviously trying to keep it light.

Unfortunately, Y/n's curiosity was insatiable. It was something the Doctor had come to appreciate about him. Until now, maybe. "Well, I'm the last of my kind." He paused but when Y/n's expression grew only more earnest, he shared more. There was something about Y/n that pulled at the Time Lord. Made him want to talk. Talk about things other than just science and time and language and culture and history and such. Something that made the Doctor want to talk about himself. "A very long time ago, there was a war. A war between my people, and those knows as the Daleks." He paused, getting rather somber. "We won...” he swallowed. There was an unspoken, at a cost.

Y/n found himself with more questions, but felt none of them appropriate to ask. "I'm so sorry." Rose turned then to see Y/n take the Doctor's hand. Y/n had always been affectionate, but only with people he was rather attached to. With strangers, Y/n was usually quiet and reserved. Until he was sure someone could handle his prying questions and blunt honesty that so often got him in trouble if he didn't check himself around the right people.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Doctor was a lot like that as well that Y/n had taken to him so quickly. Whether it was that or something else, Rose was glad the two men were getting along. She was also glad there was someone smarter than Y/n in the room. The boy had asked so many questions and gotten so many answers that he had quite a bit of knowledge more than normal people. He was no genius like the Doctor, nor was he hyper intelligent or anything. But he could outmatch Rose and Mickey, and they often went to him when they needed something spelled or math done that they couldn't mentally do quick enough.

Rose suddenly saw something else though. Past the similarity and the comfort and the peace the men found in each other. The Doctor looked back to Earth, and Y/n continued to look at the Doctor. It was subtle, and it wouldn't have been noticed if Rose wasn't already looking. But she had. Y/n finally looked away fully, but there was a look in his eyes that Rose had never seen before.

What was that about?

"What was that?" Rose demanded when the left the room, parting from the Doctor.

Y/n seemed taken aback. "What was what?"

Rose wasn't sure how to describe it. An odd look? A weird new air about him? There was something different when Y/n looked at the Doctor and Rose couldn't understand it. "With you and the Doctor?" She tried to clarify.

That only seemed to confuse Y/n more. "What are you talking about? Holding hands? I do that with you and Mickey all the time, and I'm not even Mickey's biggest fan."

Rose rolled her eyes so hard that Y/n almost laughed. "You looked... different."

Y/n was quiet a long time. Rose almost thought he wasn't going to say anything. That she had found something he wasn't ready to share. But then he did speak, even if it was soft. "He's different, the Doctor. Not just because he's alien, though... perhaps that is it." He sighed. "He's lonely. He's so lonely, Rose. Can't you see it? In the way he empathizes with loss and grief. The way he looks when you mention his name or his planet or the TARDIS or your family. When he was watching you watching Earth die, like he could see... something else. He told me something. Something that makes me think... he might have watched his own world be destroyed, like we did today. But it wasn't empty, and his species hadn't spread out and integrated and evolved. They just died, and left him all alone."

For a second, it was quiet. "You see it, don't you?"

A nod was all Y/n gave at first. He didn't need to say anything, but he did anyway. "He looked the way I did when I got the news back then. When I found out. He gets that exact look."

Suddenly Rose looked very sad indeed. "Well. Now you both have someone, eh?"

A small smile tugged at Y/n's lips. "Yeah, here's to that at least."

"Y/N!"

The man turned at his name, only to be tackled by the shorter blonde that had become known as his best friend. "Rose," Y/n whispered, clinging to her. "God I thought you were dead for sure. I - what happened? I lost you guys and then..." He looked sick. "There was so much light and-"

"We're all okay," the Doctor reassured. "That's what matters."

Y/n turned on the older man. "Now you listen here. That's NOT all that matters. Because she damn well could have not been and I wasn't there to protect her. Or you! What would I have done if either of you had died and I was up here sitting on my thumbs like an idiot?"

The Doctor was taken aback by Y/n's outburst. When the man turned and stormed off, Rose was the one to step up and explain. "I'm sorry, Doctor. He's rather protective of those he cares about." She bit her lip, giving the Doctor the impression there was more she wanted to say. He waited for her to speak, and after a while she did. "When he was young, Y/n saw something terrible. His childhood wasn't normal. I mean, you think life is pretty rough on most of us, but Y/n's had it worst than most."

"What happened?" The Doctor asked quietly.

Rose sighed. "His parents had always been pretty distant, but they were mostly good. They did what they needed to do and let him free when he wanted to be. But, well, they were.. angry. The fought a lot, and it didn't help that his dad was a fan of alcohol. His mum... well she was a fan of lots of things other than that, none of them good for you. One day, she came home high. She wanted something... I can't remember what. His parents fought over it until... his mum pulled a little too hard. His dad slipped and knocked his head really hard on the floor. He died. His mom panicked and..." Rose swallowed. And no further words had to be said about it. "Y/n was on the couch the entire time watching. He ran. Was on the streets for a long time doing lots of things. Working as best he could while keeping his head down until he turned eighteen and was free of the system. Found us right after that. He watched his parents destroy themselves and spent a long time alone after that because he couldn't stop the fighting." She scoffed. "His words of course. Not his fault people fight. He was only twelve."

The Doctor seemed to be thinking about something. Something that didn't seem to be sitting right with him. "Does he have any other family?"

"Loads. He used to have a very big family. No brothers or sisters, but lots of aunts and uncles and cousins and the such."

"What happened to them?" The Doctor looked at Rose, as if searching her mind for something he desperately needed.

Rose stalled a few seconds. "A lot of the same, really. Not so much murder, but... well, his parents got their habits from their families, and between that and regular life? Not as many are as strong or as resourceful as Y/n. They ran off or got addicted to something or..." She shrugged. "He lost all of them at some point."

The Doctor nodded. "I see. Well, this is settled. Let's go somewhere more fun." His tone changed but the mood didn't. Rose let it drop though. Y/n didn't mind Rose answering questions like this for people he was comfortable with. He actually preferred it, so that wasn't her worry. The Doctor had drawn a silent line though. She didn't know what it was blocking her from, but she decided to let the whole topic drop just in case.

Perhaps it was what Y/n had said about him and the Doctor being the same.

She hoped they weren't too similar. It was bad enough knowing Y/n's story, she couldn't bare another like it.

Y/n had been staring at the building that had just gone up in flames for a very long time now. Rose and the Doctor had been celebrating, but Y/n sat there quietly, on the pavement, staring at the building like he was waiting for it to undo the carnage that had been caused moments ago.

"So what's on your mind?" The Doctor had plopped down next to Y/n, smile small. He'd gotten used to Y/n's mellow mood. The boy wasn't hyper like the Doctor. He didn't get off on exploration. What drove Y/n, it seemed, was saving people. And a life like this took its tole on people who wanted to save everyone. People like Y/n. So, the Doctor had learned to check in every once in a while. Every time he did, he was never disappointed. Even when Y/n seemed to be hurting, he was never negative about it. He could accept a success. The things he did think though put the Doctor on a path that had him mulling for days. In a good way. He and Y/n got into a lot of very stimulating debates this exact way.

Today wasn't about debates for Y/n.

"I know they were going to destroy the world and stuff. I'm not sad they're dead. We won and they've been stopped and all of humanity and Earth has been saved. That's great. The way we did it was rather impressive too." He chuckled, but there was obviously more he was thinking.

"But?" The Doctor prompted.

Y/n shrugged. "Wiping out an entire family. I mean, their species isn't normally like that, are they?"

"No," The Doctor answered slowly.

A bitter sweet smile rested on Y/n's lips then. "Do you think they were raised to be like that, or is blood thirst genetic?" It was a sarcastic question, so the Doctor didn't answer. There was a moment of quiet before Y/n shook his head and sighed. "Doctor, would you prefer I didn't travel with you?"

That was not the thing the Doctor had been expecting Y/n to say next. "Why would you ever think I didn't want you along with us?"

Another moment where Y/n struggled with how to form his thoughts and feelings into words passed before the boy finally figured it out. "I like this life. I really do. I like being around you and Rose and watching you guys have your fun. But sometimes I feel like... a bit of a downer."

The Doctor chuckled. "Honestly Y/n, you're the first person in a very long who sees the truth to things. As much as we cling to our victories, you're real about them. You handle everything with complete understanding, even with your limited knowledge. You have empathy even for beings who would have killed you without even remembering your face. You have pity for monsters and you feel for species the rest of your kind would rather kill than have a civil conversation with. Rose is fun and she matches my energy and I appreciate that. But you ask the questions I've been waiting for someone to ask for centuries. Your kindness is quite refreshing. You get it."

Y/n smiled. "So you want me along?"

"I will always want you along, Y/n. As long as I can have you along," The Doctor answered without hesitation. "You're no downer, I promise."

It was that moment that something changed for Y/n. Rose saw this too, but not in the moment the two men shared now, but after. Y/n and the Doctor had unlocked something in each other in that conversation. A kind of connection where even as everyone cheered, all the pair had to do was look at each other to know that in all the sweetness around them, the other understood the slight bitterness they felt as well. As much as they wanted to end evil, they also both felt the loss of any soul they couldn't save. Taking a moment to mourn with each other seemed a relief for both of them.

It was something Rose couldn't feel. She saw things pretty straight forward. Bad people needed to have an end to them. And she wasn't wrong, but the compassion that had come to Y/n and Doctor after having their families and lives taken from them and living far too long by themselves, they had a unique ability to give a moment of silence even for enemies who were twisted by things out of their control. Who couldn't be shown the light.

They bonded over it so much that Rose felt herself being left behind.

Y/n and Rose still told each other lots and cuddled when either needed comfort. The Doctor and Rose still had lots of fun and laughed at each others jokes and had that same sense of humor that came only from adjusting to and enjoying the life they both lead. They were all friends. But Y/n and the Doctor had something else. Just a little something more. Just enough that Rose saw the change and began to think that there might be something major she didn't know about the man who called himself her best friend.

"Something's off."

Rose and the Doctor looked over at Y/n, whose eyes were slowly and carefully scanning their surroundings with narrowed eyes, as if searching for proof that his hunch was solid. "What is it?" Rose asked gently, moving closer so they didn't have to talk around the people in the crowd they had been moving through before Y/n had stopped dead.

The dynamic between the trio had very early on become clear. The Doctor was the brain, coming up with the plans. Rose was the second in command. She was stuck to the Doctor's side and they worked in tandem, being unbroken and often sliding along the same wave length. Y/n was the heart. When Rose and the Doctor got stuck on a mind path, or got distracted, or veered a little too right of what was right, Y/n was the one to shake things up to give them a new perspective, or to help either of them if they needed it. Y/n was a comfort and a friend. He was also very intuitive. Where the Doctor sought things out, and Rose seemed to stumble on information she found, information seemed to find Y/n. He just had a good gut guiding him.

So when he said something was up, at this point, he was never questioned by his companions.

"Earlier one of the girls said that people are chosen to go up to the higher floors. That there's a prize. They go up and something happens and then they never come back."

The Doctor nodded. "I was thinking about that too."

Y/n shook his head. "Did you notice that it's incredibly hot in here? I mean, why? It's obviously not ideal - it makes the people here uncomfortable. It's slight discomfort, but still. Why keep a bunch of people in a super heated room? What's on level 500, air conditioning?"

It was made to be a joke, but the comment seemed to spark something in the Doctor. "You know what, that's an excellent point." He stood straighter. "Fun's over. Where's that friend of yours, Rose?"

The blonde looked around. "He was... just behind us."

"Grand," Y/n grumbled sarcastically.

The Doctor chuckled a few times. "Took the words right out of my mouth." As he said it he looked over at Y/n, his eyes flickering to Y/n's lips. He looked away quickly and Y/n missed the moment altogether. The two continued cracking jokes toward Rose about the man both of them had been increasingly annoyed with, but Rose wasn't responding.

Because she had seen where the Doctor's eyes had landed, and her mind was working a million miles an hour to put this together. It's not that the concept of men liking men was foreign to her, just rare. One that wasn't her first thought for sure. But as Y/n and the Doctor got closer and closer on a very emotionally intimate level, Rose was noticing the building tiny moments that wouldn't mean anything alone but meant everything put together.

She smiled to herself. Rose Tyler had a plan, and not just about Satellite Five.

"You wanna talk?" Y/n offered quietly.

"Do you?" Rose shot back.

Y/n wasn't sure what to do with that. "I always want to talk with you, Rose."

The blonde jerked her body to turn and face Y/n, a determined look on her face. "You know Y/n, how about this. An exchange of honesties. For every truth you tell me, I will tell you one in return. And your truth has to equal mine, so if you want something meaningful then you have to give something like that first."

Y/n paused and then nodded. "Sounds good. Do you want me to start?”

"No, actually," Rose decided. Y/n motioned for her to go ahead, so she did. "Watching my dad die was not great, but I'm glad he wasn't alone after all. It was kind of... a relief, actually. Some closure. I got to say goodbye. I got to hold his hand." She offered a weak smile. "Now your turn."

Unsure of what Rose was aiming for, Y/n thought for a second for something he hadn't told her recently that could be as profound and unexpected as that. "This whole life of ours gives me purpose. I feel like I matter, which is something I haven't really felt until now. I know I had people who cared about me and worried about me and expected me home every night, but I always craved to make a difference and finally having that has been like a dream come true. Even though I get a little melancholic... all the time, it's just because I get stuck in my own head a lot and think too much. I actually really like what we do."

Rose nodded. Even though it had been a tad mild compared to hers, it was less what he had said and more the fact that he'd said it. Y/n struggled to communicate positive emotions, often overthinking the negative ones and voicing those because he needed second opinions and insight. Acknowledging positive things didn’t require a second opinion or input, just a congratulations, and since when did he get that just for traveling with the Doctor and finding purpose without looking like some sort of arrogant dick? It might not have been as profound as Rose's truth, but it was equally meaningful.

"I love Mickey and my mum of course, but I don't think I'll be ever to leave this life and be okay with it. I think that I might end up breaking up with Mickey because he deserves better and that thought terrifies me."

Y/n pursed his lips. "Can I just-"

"No comforting or additional thought. We can discuss later. Right now, truth. State it."

"Okay," Y/n sighed. "Uh, relationships in general terrify me." It sort of slipped out and both of them hesitated. Y/n never talked about this sort of stuff. It was the only thing he never talked about, even with Rose. She expected him to clam up but after a second, he just kept going. "I'm scared of falling in love and having my heart broken. I know some things are worth it, and people glorify love so much and I crave it, I really do, but... I've lost so much. I don't think I'd be able to handle it if I really fell for someone and then had to lose them. I'd rather make friends and family than that nonsense. It would hurt to lose them, but in a different way, and there would still be the thought that you would always be that person's friend or family if you get separated or part ways or whatever. Like we'll always be each other's friend, I think. Even if we got to a point where we couldn't be friends anymore. If I left this life behind, or one of us died or-" He sighed. "But when you break up with someone, they move on. They date other people, and do intimate things with them. They love and connect in just as intimate ways as you used to, and eventually they forget you and replace you. I couldn't handle that. I won't."

Rose let out the breath she'd been holding. She'd been too scared to breath, in case it shattered the moment she'd been waiting to happen for years now. "I understand." She took his hand. "Have you... ever been in love before?"

Y/n shook his head. "Not yet." He paused and Rose felt the weight of those words. Not yet. She could imagine Y/n clinging to his heart as the Doctor got closer and closer, his smile ever wide and his charm ever sparkling.

Rose's shoulders sagged a bit. "What will you do if it ever happens?"

"Ignore it." The words were too quick and solid. They came across as desperate. Insistent. In that moment one thing was clearer than anything else in the world. If Y/n wasn't in love with the Doctor already, he would be soon. He was falling hard, and he was falling fast, and when he landed it was going to hurt. They were suddenly both terrified about it.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" The words were hysterical. Y/n's hands shook and his eyes were wide and his skin shone with sweat. His hair was messier than usual and his clothes were disheveled, like he'd rolled down a long hill or gotten in a fight or something.

The horror of what was happening in that moment settled over Rose and the Doctor in a truly terrible way. It was in the ringing in their ears and the horrible, bitter taste that was suddenly in their mouths. "Y/n-" the Doctor began.

"No," the man answered in a very final tone. One that let them know there was no room for question or doubt. He had been touched by the child. He had been infected, and he refused to infect any of the others.

A new friend, Jack Harkness, jogged over at the commotion. "What's happening over here?"

"Doesn't matter," Y/n answered solidly. "We need to move on."

Rose let out a sound that neared a choked sob, except she wasn't crying. She just looked to be in pain. "You- you can't! Y/n-"

Y/n took a few deep breaths. He had made the mistake. In his idiocy, he had gotten between the kid and Rose, and now he was here. The child was far back and they'd had time to get away, but Y/n had touched him and that meant only one thing. "Rose, we don't have time for this." He was near breaking down, and he begged her to see that. He couldn't spend the time before he died losing it. He had to help as much as he could. He had to make a difference. He had to-

"You know, you don't have to do anything, Y/n." Y/n and the Doctor looked at each other. His lips were parted and his eyes were desperate. He wanted to help but... he didn't know how. "You can stop. We would understand. You - you probably don't have much time left." His face crumbled, like he finally understood the meaning behind what he was saying. "You don't have to come. Spend it doing something else. Get yourself some food maybe. There's bound to be something in the TARDIS. Pick a bed, and stay there. We'll keep you comfortable after... after this."

A soft chuckle came from Y/n then. "You know, I'm going to die." The group got deathly quiet. "Maybe that's not true. I'll be alive. I'll be something worse than dead. I'll be brain dead. Forever." He shook his head, his breathing becoming shallow. "But right now, I'm still me. And I want to do something before I stop being me, Doctor. I want to do all I can. I want to do everything, but all we have time for is making sure whatever is happening to me never happens to anyone else ever again, okay? Can I spend my last moment with you?" He was looking right at the Doctor. Not at Rose, which would have made sense as they were practically siblings with the way they acted toward each other. Not even Jack, who had been having fun flirting with everyone - especially because Y/n wasn't anywhere near as hard to get as Rose or the Doctor. Y/n looked at the Doctor, and begged to die by his side, and Jack and Rose looked at each other because the need that Y/n had to steal all the time he had left to spend with the Doctor of all people... it said something Y/n was not ready to find the actual words for.

"Of course you can," the Doctor whispered.

And he did. Y/n was there as they reached the not-bomb that was actually some sort of alien ambulance. He was there when they saved Nancy and gathered the troops. And when it came time, he left too.

"Nancy, take Rose to where you cut the gate. And take this!" He tossed his sonic screwdriver at Rose and she caught it.

"I ought to go as well," Y/n spoke up.

The Doctor looked confused by that. "No I need you here. I promised you'd-"

"Doctor," Y/n interrupted. He took a shaky breath. "I can feel it coming. Soon I'm going to be one of them. Mindless, and coming after you, and you won't be able to stop me. I will kill all of you. Make you just like them." His face darkened. "Like us." He shook his head and Rose and the Doctor looked at each other, trying to find the answer in each other that neither of them had. Y/n steeled himself. "So this is goodbye."

The Doctor stood there for a few seconds. Too many seconds. He was trying to say something, but didn't seem to be able to. "Y/n?" The man answered to his name, and the men locked eyes. "Do you remember the first time we ever set out, and you told me... you told me that Rose was the most important person to you? You joked that no one would ever be that important to you, except someone who would be... special." He let air out of his nose. "You were special to me. More special than most people."

Y/n smiled, fighting tears. "You are special to me too, Doctor." He looked away. "I'm sorry our journey ended so early. I think... I think it could have been special, too."

Then there was nothing else to say, so he left with Rose and Nancy, the three of them booking it to the fence. Y/n stepped through and watched as Nancy and Rose fixed the metal so he wouldn't be able to get back in.

"Did you mean it?" Rose asked, looking at her best friend for what could very well be the last time. "That I was important to you? And that the Doctor was special enough to be just as important?"

The silence stretched for too long. Rose wasn't sure if it was painful to talk with that thing pushing its way up Y/n's throat, or if it was his human fear that kept his lips sealed, but Y/n didn't say anything for a very long time. The fence was sealed and the women stood before he finally spoke. "Do you think differently of me?" He rushed to add, "I know it's obvious. I saw the way you look between us like you expect us to lose our minds and make out right there. I see the way you and Jack looked at each other before too. Like you were watching a romance movie that had a sad ending. One you didn't expect, or think fair. I'm not as subtle as I like to think I am."

Rose scoffed. "You think I think differently of you because you're in love with the Doctor? Why? Because he's an alien?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or because he's a man?" Y/n looked away. "Y/n, you're my best friend. After all we've been through with the Doctor, you're practically my brother. I have been waiting ages now for you to admit your feelings for him. I didn't know until we started traveling, but it doesn't change the fact that you're there for me more than anyone else. You protect me and care about me. Your heart is bigger than all of the universes put together, and you bleed gold - I swear to god. You and the Doctor... you give him something I don't think anyone ever could. You understand something I can't wrap my head around. The way you mourn even the worst of us, because you see potential. The way you can do that, but still stop evil and remove yourself from harm because as much as you pity people who destroy themselves and others, you also won't tolerate their destruction. You're one of the most amazing men I've ever met, and don't think I'm just saying that because you were my first boyfriend.” It was a reference to When they’d first met; Y/n had pretended to be Rise’s boyfriend to get a creep to go away.

Both of them laughed at that, tears falling down their faces. "I remember that." Y/n slipped his hands in his pockets and the mood dropped again. "In another world, Rose, I wouldn't have ever left your side. I really do love you. And even if I am feeling... things, for the Doctor." His eyebrows came together. "You were always my first priority. I just know that he cares about you, too. He has your back, but someone needs to have his. Someone who really understands. And... you get distracted sometimes. But that's okay, because you always have my back, so we watch each other like that." His voice broke as he continued, "Had." Y/n and Rose locked eyes. "You watch him for me, alright? You two..." He laughed again. "I know you two are like me and him. I know he'll never admit it in a million years, but you two. It's subtle and quiet and innocent, but I can see it. I see it in the way he says your name, and the way you trust him. If you don't end up happy because of me I'll come back from the dead just to kick your asses."

Tears fell harder down Rose's face as she laughed again. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot," Y/n replied without missing a beat.

Rose's expression fell. "How am I supposed to go on these journeys without you? Go back home and face my mum, who needs you around because you're the only one who'll listen to her gossip without giving her an ear load in return? Who will tell Mickey off now that I'm so different and we-" She choked on her words. "You can't go, Y/n."

"I don't want to..." His vision blurred and the pain that had been rising steadily came in full force now. Y/n leaned against the fence, bending at the middle a little bit as his other hand rose so his fingers could wrap around his throat. "I'm sorry, Rose. I- I-" He began sobbing, but stopped as it made the pain worse. "I'm- m-" He shook his head. He didn't want to hear himself say it... Then the thought occurred to him that the people might be trapped in their heads. Conscious and aware, but out of control. Would he see the face of every person he condemned to live like him? Would he sit there and see them and have to touch them anyway? Every single person until... until what? They didn't die. He wouldn't die. He would turn person after person until they were all brain dead and trapped just like him. "Rose."

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice haunted. "I'm right here, Y/n."

Y/n closed his eyes. "Run. Please - PLEASE don't see me like this. Don't see me- m- mummy-" The word forced itself out of his mouth and he whimpered, flinching upon hearing it. Rose made a sound that was half groan and half whine. This was hurting her. "Rose, Ru-" And then he looked up and locked eyes with the girl who had become his sister, and he thought of her and the Doctor before everything went black.

When he woke up again, he was somewhere new. He expected to see himself marching toward his friends, condemning them to death. He expected to see someone else about to be wrapped in his deadly clutches perhaps. But all he saw, instead, was a lot of lights and people and a blue beam with something large and cylinder in it. He saw his hands next. He reached them up to touch his face and they answered him. His face was skin. It was smooth and a little warm. There was no leather or metal. He wasn't wearing a gas mask.

"Y/N!" He turned in time to be rammed into by a smaller blonde. Her hair went into his face and he felt both panic and relief.

"You- you can't touch me. Rose what have you done?" He demanded rather harshly.

She shook her head, her body shaking as she sobbed. "You're cured, Y/n. You're all better. The Doctor - he figured it out. A brilliant man, he is. Truly brilliant."

Allowing himself a moment to process that, Y/n stayed quiet and just hugged Rose for a second. Once it did settle, though, he needed to know something. "Is the Doctor okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Rose and Y/n parted, turning their gazes to land on the Doctor himself. The man was grinning, his eyes light up with joy.

Y/n grinned back. "Guess you're not getting rid of me that easily, Doctor."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," the Doctor replied. He slipped his screwdriver in his pocket. "On we go, then. There's one more thing we have to do before we can celebrate." And just like that, Y/n was okay and not dead and they were all together. Things had been said that they were ignoring for now, because none of them could acknowledge them. Not yet. Right now, they had more important things.

At least that's how they reasoned it. Easier that way. Much, much easier.

"I'm sorry, we'd be sending you to your death?" Y/n demanded.

"Yes," the Slitheen responded.

The Doctor turned to face the man who looked about ready to blow a circuit. "Y/n, I know how you feel. Trust me, I do. We all do. But-"

"No buts!" Y/n argued. "She just wants to be free! Her whole family was killed and she had to run away or die with them. Can you imagine what it would be like to have to run, knowing everyone you care about would be gone? Being helpless to save them, because you messed with the wrong planet? Because you do what you always did. What you were TAUGHT to do?"

That seemed to hit a chord with the Doctor. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. It doesn't!" The Doctor shot again when Y/n went to argue. "She would have killed everyone here without a second thought. What are we supposed to do? She almost destroyed this entire planet for a bit of money, and then AGAIN just to get off of it and go somewhere else. Every single life on Earth, GONE, because she wanted a lift somewhere else."

Y/n looked away. "I can't do this one with you, then. I- I know it's necessary. I know you have to do it. I can't sit by and let you though, so I'm going to leave." He turned on Margaret then. "If you hurt him, I will destroy you, do you understand me? These people are MY family, and if you hurt them I will hunt you down and I tie you up and stick a needle in you and I will pump your body full of vinegar - do I make myself clear?"

Margaret looked scared... and a little impressed. "Yes sir." She looked to the Doctor as Y/n walked away. "You found your soulmate, eh?"

The Doctor didn't answer as far as Y/n knew. It was a relief to know that even if the Doctor had responded, Y/n hadn't been there to hear it.

He did manage to stay away a very long time. He only came back when the Earth under his feet began to crack and the lights went crazy and the sky began to glow and everything began to shake. He couldn't stay at home when things were going to wrong. When Rose and the Doctor and Jack could be dying. So Y/n raced back to the TARDIS, reaching it just as everything began to calm down. He pushed open those doors, praying that it wasn't the calm before the storm and the world was about to end.

When he opened the doors, he saw something he wasn't expecting. Te Doctor stood, Rose and Jack on either side of him, an egg in his hand. "What's that?"

Grinning, the Doctor hefted the thing as Y/n entered the TARDIS, closing the doors behind him. "This is Margaret." When Y/n was rightfully confused, the Doctor explained. He recounted the nights' adventures up until Margaret had looked into the heart of the TARDIS and had reverted to what she was now. "She told me..." The Doctor looked at Y/n with a soft look in his eyes. "She told me to tell you thank you. Before she died."

Y/n smiled to himself. "Well, she's welcome." Then he turned away. "Now, let's get her home shall we?"

"You want us to face those things with guns? There are six of us."

"Actually," The Doctor piped up. "Rose, Y/n, can you help me strip these wires? The faster we do it the sooner I can get this done."

"Uh, sure," Rose agreed, heading over to where the Doctor was crouched.

"Four of us," the woman corrected herself. Y/n hadn't caught her name yet. He made a mental note to do so when they gunned down the Daleks together later. Because he had seen something in the Doctor when he asked for help. Something that made Y/n suspicious.

"Five actually." Everyone looked at Y/n in surprise. "If we're arguing our need for time, Rose can help here and I can help keep those things from getting here for as long as possible. Maybe-" He stopped himself. "Maybe I can take down enough to make them not a threat at all." It was a joke that fell short, but one that made everyone offer at least a small smile. The Doctor went to argue, and that's when Y/n got serious. "I can't stay up here and strip wires when people are dying, Doctor. I won't."

The Doctor seemed to have pain in his eyes. "I can't stop you, can I?" He was begging Y/n. Desperately pleading for him to stay there. To do as the Doctor wanted him to.

This time, Y/n wasn't going to though. His arm was still bleeding and his other leg had a limp from his game. Y/n had looked death in the face twice now and avoided it. He figured he was on borrowed time anyway. Even if that wasn't true, Jack had saved Y/n's life. He had been the one to find Y/n and pull him out of that game right before he died. If they were all going to die anyway - or, at least, most of them - he would be by Jack's side to repay that debt. "You can't."

Once again, the Doctor and Y/n exchanged a look they both believed would be the last they shared. Ever since Y/n had been turned into one of the empty people when they met Jack, the Doctor had been significantly more protective of Y/n. Y/n was a man though and had been staying firm when he made his mind up, no matter how much the Doctor tried.

"Not at all?" The Doctor tried again.

Y/n smiled. "You know, Doctor. I've been pretty obedient until recently. I didn't stray too far or wander off, because I chose to stay behind and let you know where Rose had gone and that she was okay. Or that she wasn't. I did what you wanted me to. And then I died, and I realized that there is more important thing to life than sitting back and letting you take control just because you know more than I do. This is my choice, and I'm making it."

After a second, the Doctor nodded and Y/n took off with Jack and the others, headed to face the Daleks with a bunch of guns.

Y/n did help some. He watched each and every person on the Station die, and he ended up pressed against a wall with Jack at his side and Daleks charging the pair without hesitation. He had lost. But he had helped, even if it wasn't nearly enough to make a difference.

"Go ahead and warn the Doctor they're coming," Jack ordered. He spoke again before Y/n could argue. "I'll hold them off. I know you don't want to, but the Doctor needs warning, and I... I don't want see you die. Not again."

Pain flared in Y/n's chest then. "You're a good man, Jack."

"Thanks, but we don't have time for one of your goodbye speeches." Jack scoffed at himself. "You know, I did always want one though."

Y/n laughed, tears in his eyes. Why did he always end up here? "How about I give you a kiss on the cheek and you can return it later? I can give you that goodbye speech another day, when we have time."

Jack paused, and then nodded. "I'd like that." So Y/n kissed him on the cheek and then ran when the Daleks turned the corner, feeling his heart drop when the tell tale sign of death hit Y/n's ears in the form of Jack's scream. They'd both known this was what was going to happen. Y/n would never get that kiss, and Jack would never get that speech, but it had been nice that they'd parted holding onto that impossibility. Y/n hoped it had been what Jack was thinking when he died.

Unfortunately, Y/n didn't have much time to lament about it. "Doctor!" He ran into the room, stopping in the doorway. Y/n knew about the delta wave, and he knew what was about to happen. He knew why the Doctor had wanted Y/n and Rose to stay. Y/n had gone though, and now he was going to die with the rest of them. He wouldn't have it any other way. First, he needed to say something though. "Doctor, last time I faced death, I said something that we never talked about again. But we've had even more time together now and after all the regret I had last time, I- I can't die again without telling you-"

"I know," the Doctor said, interrupting. "I hate death confessions. I always have. It's not fair, you know. Telling me something like that and then running off and dying before I can do anything about it."

Even now, the Doctor was making jokes. Dear lord. "I came back, though. And you didn't do anything about it." Y/n huffed in amusement. "You never would have, huh?"

The Doctor swallowed. "This would always been the end, Y/n. At the best, you would have gotten older. You would have moved on. I can't... I can't."

Y/n nodded. "I know. I understand. I really do, Doctor. And with Rose too - I can't imagine that ever getting settled. But I need you to know-" But Y/n didn't get to finish his sentence, because there was that horrible sound and Y/n's scream and then everything went black. Except this time, he wasn't unconscious.

He was dead. Y/n was dead. As dead as it gets.

Death and Y/n didn't see to get along though, because only a few minutes later Y/n was gasping back to life, scrambling on the floor. He was disoriented and confused, but he saw a bright light and heard distant but familiar voices. He crawled around to get a better view without the large silver things he couldn't quite focus his vision on just yet. What he saw was Rose Tyler and the Doctor and the TARDIS. The Doctor kissed Rose and a light, far brighter than Y/n had seen anything be, traveled between the two of them and Rose fell.

"Doctor?" Y/n croaked.

The Doctor turned in surprise to see Y/n on the floor. "You were dead."

Y/n shrugged, his head spinning. "I feel... sick now. Just sick." His eyes fell to Rose. "I- Is she dead?"

"No," the Doctor reassured. "We need to go though. Come along, will you? We have lots to talk about." Y/n nodded, wobbling to his feet and then into the TARDIS as the Doctor scooped Rose up and set her on the floor of the TARDIS. He began to pilot the ship and as it set a course for what Y/n assumed was London, the Doctor turned on Y/n. He looked a little shaken. The glowing seemed to be moving under his skin, shimmering. But now it didn't seem beautiful, as it had before. It seemed wrong. Definitely dangerous. "Explain yourself."

"I... don't know."

The Doctor looked at Rose. "Ah." He looked back. "It seems I'm the one who has explaining to do." Again he glowed and the Doctor teetered, wincing in pain. "A... lot of explaining, it seems."

Y/n, worried and very confused and a little terrified, nodded. "Get on with it then. We don't have all day."

"Well... I don't," The Doctor agreed. "But I will. Or... you will, with someone else."

Y/n's breathing got heavier. "Doctor-"

"Y/n," the Doctor interrupted, moving close and taking Y/n's face between his hands. "Beautiful, empathetic, caring, protective Y/n. You've gotten your goodbye speeches, let me have mine."

And then the Doctor kissed Y/n, just like he had Rose. Except there was no light or glow, just a kiss. When they parted, it was because the Doctor groaned in pain. A pain that seemed to be growing. "Doctor?" Y/n rushed, scrambling to help the man stand.

The Doctor didn't ever get to say he loved Y/n back, but that kiss had said enough. It didn't really matter though, because it was then that Rose woke up. Then that everything would change forever. Not too much, but plenty enough. The Doctor changed. Changed into someone more controlled and reserved. Someone who couldn't express emotions as well as he could before. Y/n had changed too, though he didn't know that yet. He had changed into someone the Doctor couldn't accept.

To say, things were about to get really fucking complicated.

"He says that the yellow girl and her companion have the blue box, so they are the only ones able to speak for this planet."

"You can't," Harriet Jones, now Prime Minister, insisted.

"Someone has to be the Doctor," Rose began.

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by Y/n stepping forward though. No one questioned it. This entire time, Y/n had been the one who had seemed to have any idea on what to do. He didn't have much more a grip than Rose did, but what he did have was just enough that everyone seemed to naturally be stepping back to give him the reigns in the Doctor's place. Y/n stepped up and faced an alien race he had no idea how to defeat with no fear on his face. Maybe it was that the man had died twice now, or that his friends were in danger and nothing made Y/n more hostile than facing down people who threatened his friends. Y/n was different than the boy that had agreed to come along on a journey of a life time to make sure Rose was safe. Not so different that he didn't have mercy, but different enough that he not only didn't tolerate people who were willing to harm others, but he was willing to destroy them for the greater good. To protect those who could not protect themselves. That didn't stop him from pitying wasted life, but it did stop him from hesitating.

"Why do you want to kill humans?" Y/n demanded. The Sycorax leader faced Y/n down, but Y/n didn't step back even a little bit. He said something to Y/n, and the agents by Harriet translated.

"He says humans are simple and meaningless. They need to be conquered. They-"

"Now you stop right there," Y/n interrupted. Everyone behind Y/n and everyone in the crowd seemed to react to that. The people in fear, and the crowd in anger. It seemed no one liked that Y/n had interrupted the alien leader that was perfectly capable of killing. But Y/n didn't care about that. He needed to think, and he needed time to do that, and he was absolutely not about to let this monster conquer his planet without fighting back. He didn't know much or think as fast as the Doctor, but he could figure it out. He could figure SOMETHING out. Because he had to. "This planet isn't filled with a bunch of idiots. We may have a few bad eggs. We may make choices that are so incredibly daft, but we're incredible as well. We learn and grow and continue without being stopped. We defy death, even. We defy logic and reason. We're harder to wipe out than a hoard of roaches. We stick around and fight back. You can try your hardest to pin us under your thumb, or kill us off when we refuse, but it'll never be over and even if you do win this battle. Even if you do take this planet now. We will come back in such force that you will wish you had never made the mistake of messing with us. And it may not be now. It may not be in a decade, or several, or even a century. But it will happen, as it always does. And when it does happen, you will fear us."

"You want to be big? Then I will show you how small you are." Too late they all realized the Sycorax had spoken in English. Too late, because he flicked his staff and like a whip, a coil of electricity shot out and attached to Y/n's chest. He screamed and fell to a knee and his friends screamed behind him, but when the electricity left, Y/n was... fine.

Chaos erupted from the crowd. Y/n stood slowly, even his friends behind him whispering in chatter that sounded... fearful. What had just happened?

"SILENCE!" The Sycorax screamed. The crowd begrudgingly went hush, but a small voice from behind Y/n spoke up still.

"You should be dead. I watched him kill them with that- that- staff. You should be dead."

"And I'm not," Y/n brought up rather pointlessly. He sounded far more calm than he meant to though, so there was that.

The Sycorax leader stumbled back in obvious fear. Y/n stood taller. "That's impossible."

"It should be," A voice that was growing familiar spoke up. The small crowd behind Y/n parted and there stood the new man who was the Doctor but also wasn't. That man strutted forward, an expression on his face that was sort of bitter sweet, but leaning more bitter. "It doesn't sit well with me either, if I'm honest."

"Took you long enough," Y/n mumbled under his breath.

"Better late than never," the man shot back. And that was when Y/n saw the Doctor. If a bit more rude and quicker to respond... still the Doctor.

Long story short, the Doctor handled things as he always did. After Y/n's show of immunity to the Sycorax's one hit kill staff, there wasn't much work to do. There was calling the bluff of what turned out to be blood control, which couldn't go as far as the Sycorax said it could. And then there was the sword fight that was brought about by some law or another, but also threatened to happen because if the Sycorax leader didn't agree, the Doctor would "release" Y/n on him. It ended with the Doctor victorious, and Sycorax ship sailing off as the humans left all returned to the ground with the TARDIS.

Then, as they were running away, Harriet Jones shot them down with a beam from a group she called Torchwood, and killed them while their backs were turned.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?" Y/n roared, rushing to the smaller woman. Harriet was suddenly shaking, faced with a man who seemed to be repelling death like it was a light cold and he had work to get to. "They were running away!"

"They could come back," she insisted rather quietly.

"They couldn't," The Doctor argued, standing just behind Y/n, at his side. "The fight - it was agreed. I won, Earth is free from them."

Harriet scoffed. "He attacked you the second you turned your back, and his people will surely do the same." Y/n flared but Harriet seemed to find her courage then. "You weren't there, Doctor. And you will not always be there. Y/n did a very good job of taking your place, but he won't always be here either. One day we will be faced with an enemy we cannot take down with a simple sword fight, and you may not be there to help."

"I should have told them to run from the monster," The Doctor sneered. "I should have told them to run as far and as fast as they could, because the real monster was sitting there, waiting for the moment to strike."

Harriet solidified herself. "I was there when that staff killed two good men. Right in front of me, and I could do nothing to stop it. I won't be helpless ever again. I have people to protect."

There was quiet for a moment, and then the Doctor stepped in front of Y/n, who had been stunned by such stupidity and selfishness that he was struck dumb. "You know, humans are so simple. I can end you entire career without lifting a single finger. I could do it without much trouble. Without even lifting one finger, all your hard work. Gone."

"Stop it," Harriet demanded, that fear from before returning.

"Six words," the Doctor stated calmly.

"Stop," Harriet hissed, coming undone by his terrifying calm.

"Just six words." And then he moved... but not to Harriet. He moved to the last man left that seemed to work with Harriet, and he leaned close and whispered something in the man's ear. Then he leaned away and turned around and walked away, hands in his pockets and face empty of regret or emotion in general. Harriet panicked behind them, begging the Doctor and the man the Doctor had spoken to tell her something. Anything. But she never got her answer.

Not in the way she wanted.

When they were away from her, Y/n rounded on the Doctor. "I'm still alive, and she said I shouldn't be."

The Doctor sighed. "When Rose looked into the heart of the TARDIS, she... brought you back. Honestly, I knew, and I saw, but I was in shock and in pain because I was dying and I was too scared to leave you behind. Far, far more scared of losing you than I was of what you had become."

Y/n looked as if he'd been slapped. "What do you mean, what I've become? You don't want me anymore?"

"That's the thing isn't it?" The Doctor sighed. "Rose doesn't even know. She forgot everything. And you weren't alive to see it. To get back to me, to us, she looked into the heart of the TARDIS. Like when Margaret became an egg. She looked and she gained immeasurable power. Power over time and space, completely. Over life, even. All she had to do was set your existence through out all time and space, and you're alive. But she didn't know how to hone it, so now you'll... probably always be alive. You can't die, I'd reckon."

"At all?" Y/n squeaked.

The Doctor shrugged. "There's no knowing for sure unless we test it, but if back there means anything, I'd say that no, you can't die. I'd even bet you can't age."

Y/n let out a breath. "So I'll be this age, alive, forever?"

"I'd say so," the Doctor confirmed. There was a moment of silence. "I feel guilty."

"Why?" Y/n asked, looking up from where his eyes had dropped.

A soft sigh escaped the Doctor then. "I'm glad of it." Y/n rose a questioning eyebrow, and the Doctor continued. "I've never been able to be really with someone before. I knew they'd go eventually. They die or move on or grow too old for this life, or get torn up by the life style or they're stolen from me. You... you're different, though. Humans age and get old, but I regenerate. I mean, a relationship like that would be one sided. Eventually I'd be alone again. But you don't age, or die, and I'm sitting here in a predicament where I just so happen to be in love with you." He released a breath, as if the words had been weighing him down. "It's so much easier to say that knowing I may actually not lose you."

Slowly, a smile rose to Y/n's face. "Well, if you don't already know I love you too I might have to kick your ass right here and now."

The Doctor released a shaky sort of laugh. After a second, he looked away, his smile fading. "Y/n, there's something you need to know about me."

Y/n sucked in a breath and released it again sharply, his hands fidgeting. "What about?"

"I've had a lot of companions, and I have lost every single one. Rose and you aren't the first, even though you two are... different." He shook his head. "But I had something real before this life. I had a family. I was a father. A husband. I had a life. And it was all taken from me."

For a second, Y/n didn't seem to know what to say. But then he found it, and whispered very gently, "Doctor, I'm weird. I don't... I don't fall in love, really. It's unusual for me to do so. I've only ever fancied one person other than you. I've never taken much to romance and it's never seemed important to me. Like you, the first person I felt like this for... they understood this feeling too. Their father died in a war and mother in childbirth and they spent their whole life being passed from person to person and never having a family or a home. This isn't my first time, though I will say that it is my second. I do know one thing though. If you need time to work this out. If you need something I can't fill... What I mean to say is, I'm happy when you're happy. I'm not asking you to marry me, or start a family with me or whatever. I'm not asking for an immediate serious relationship. Just because we feel the way we do about each other doesn't mean we have to limit ourselves to those feelings. I know you've felt love like this many times, and I know that... you may feel it again in the future, or even now." He shrugged it away. "I know this is going to take time. But I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. Ever, it seems. That you can count on. Everything else... As long as you come back to me at the end of the day, I don't care about everything else."

And then the Doctor did something splendid. He kissed Y/n. And Y/n did something even greater. He kissed back.

It was a great kiss. One of many. Because this journey? It had only just begun!

Male readers: @sheepfather

#dr who #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #dr who imagine #dr who x reader #dr who x male reader #ninth doctor imagine #ninth doctor x male reader #ninth doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x male reader #male reader #dr who fanfic #dr who angst

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backtothestart02 · 3 years

Text

Hazy - 10/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: DRAMAAAAAAAA!!!! Enjoy! :P

Commissioned by @andie1223

...

Chapter 10 -

Barry stared at Iris as she continued to talk. It was hard to focus. Something about Iris and Eddie getting into a huge argument and Eddie blurting what he’d done. The rest was all a blur. It had happened this morning apparently, just before they went their separate ways for work. Iris was afraid to go home, didn’t know how she could even continue the marriage or if she should call the police, call her dad at the very least.

She was babbling now, shaking a little. Barry wanted to comfort her. He knew he needed to, that it had taken a lot of guts for her to come to him after their last conversation and confide in him all these things. He didn’t know exactly what had been said between the married couple, but he highly doubted Eddie anticipated his wife running to her the victim of his assaults right after. Or a few hours later, rather.

But all he could think was how his gut had been right and how he should have said something instead of…well, instead of doing what Iris had asked of him. He needed time to process, and he couldn’t do that with her standing right there in front of him, looking heartbreakingly beautiful and in desperate need of his comfort.

He couldn’t comfort her because he’d end up trying to kiss her, and he didn’t even know if she wanted out of her marriage yet, not really. She was emotional right now. What she said she wanted now could be very different by the time she’d cooled down some.

Despite all that though, she was still his beating heart. He wanted more than anything to be with her. If she said she wanted him now, he wouldn’t reject her. He couldn’t.

“Barry?” she asked, and he realized then that she was sincerely trying to get his attention.

He blinked and focused in on her.

“Have you been listening?”

He licked his lips and nodded.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Her shoulders relaxed in relief.

“I just…um, I think I need time to process.”

He turned for the kitchen to get himself some water, and like a puppy, she followed him.

“Do you want some?” he asked, after figuring out where the cups were.

“Yeah, thanks.”

She lifted herself up onto the counter and sat there, her legs swinging gently.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, taking the glassful of water from him moments later.

He took a sip of his own glass.

“Me? Oh, I’m dandy,” he barked out, trying not to be sarcastic.

She winced.

“I meant…with your injuries.”

“Oh.”

He looked down at his arm in a sling.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said. “I took some meds before Linda left. They should last me a couple more hours before I have to take some again.”

“Don’t take too many,” she urged. “You don’t want to get addicted.”

“I know.”

She looked away.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s nice to see you caring about me…for once.”

Her heart fell, and he hated himself for the crestfallen look on her face. But he was still a little bitter.

“I wish you would have believed me, Iris.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

“I told you what he did that I could remember, and you really didn’t think…?”

“I guess I didn’t want to believe it.”

“He’s a jealous husband. Honestly, I might act the same in his place.”

She was horrified.

“No, you wouldn’t. Not ever. You’re not…violent. You’re quiet about your feelings. You don’t act out, not like this.”

“Mm…maybe I’m too quiet.”

She lifted her gaze to his curiously.

Then, without thinking, he grazed her face with his fingertips, and leaned in to kiss her. Iris managed to pull back just before his lips brushed hers.

“Linda!” she screeched.

He blinked.

“She told the doctor she was your girlfriend. And you went home with her. I mean…?”

“It’s a façade, Iris.” He tenderly stoked her cheek. “To make you and Scott jealous. Or…don’t you remember what I told you at the gala?”

She sighed and leaned her forehead against his.

“That feels like a lifetime ago.”

“What about Eddie?” he finally asked. “Are you leaving him?”

She managed to snort.

“That’s a little blunt, isn’t it?”

“I need to know, Iris,” he said softly. “Do I have a shot here?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

His hand dropped from her face, and she reached for it with both hands, setting her glass on the counter.

“I do have feelings for you, Barry. Strong feelings. I’ve been in denial since my wedding, maybe before that. And Eddie beating you up? And lying about it? I’m scared to go home.”

“So, don’t. Stay with me.”

She choked up a laugh.

“At Linda’s place?”

“I’m only here because I was avoiding Joe and not telling him what I remembered about Eddie, because you asked me not to.”

She winced.

“I can go home now. You can stay with me. We can…figure this whole thing out. But only if you’re done with Eddie. Please tell me you’re done with him.”

Her eyes shut.

“How long does a wife stay faithful to her husband?” Her doe eyes met his. “Till death do she part? Or-”

“Has he ever hurt you?”

She looked taken aback, defensive.

“What, Eddie? Me? No way.”

Barry looked offended that she hadn’t even considered it. He waited grudgingly.

“But uh…he has threatened me,” she finally admitted.

His eyes widened.

“With violence?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“I told myself he didn’t really mean it. I mean, he never followed through on any of his threats…what he’d do if I went out of my way to see you, to make amends.”

“Oh, my God, Iris, I can’t believe…”

“I know, I know, I should’ve said something.” She bit her bottom lip. “But at the time I just-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He stroked her hair to calm her. “God, you must’ve been terrified.”

She swallowed. “I tried not to be.”

“Bravest person that I know.”

He kissed her temple.

She sighed shakily, and his free hand fell to her bare arm, brushing it lightly, soothingly, comfortingly.

For several minutes they just stood there like that, embracing as much as they could. Barry soaked up as much as possible. He didn’t know what would come next, but he knew progress had been made and all his bitterness was gone.

Finally, Iris spoke up.

“I should go back to work. I mean, what if Eddie comes to check up on me and Linda tells him-?”

“She won’t tell him anything. She’s the only one I’ve confided in. And I told her I had a bad feeling about Eddie possibly hurting you.”

Her eyes went wide.

“You did?”

He nodded.

“But…he hasn’t hurt me.”

“Threats are no joke, Iris. Especially after what he did to me.”

She hesitated, nibbling on her bottom lip.

“I don’t know what to do, Barry. I’m scared.”

“Let’s call your dad. Tell him to come over. We’ll tell him together. It’ll be okay, Iris.”

She swallowed and reached for his hand, clasping it tightly.

“Okay.”

…

It didn’t take long to get a hold of Joe. He was on his lunch break, and he was happy to hear from Barry, though surprised to hear that his daughter was with him. As soon as Barry informed him it had to do with Eddie, and Joe remarked how Eddie had left for his own lunch break, he was quick to agree to go to Linda’s place – as soon as Barry gave him the address to go to.

Barry had intended on calling Linda after that, but Iris stopped him.

“What if he’s at CCPN looking for me and sees Linda on the phone and connects the dots?” Her bottom lip quivered.

She was terrified, so Barry set down his phone before searching out his fake girlfriend’s name in the contacts. He was confident Linda wouldn’t tell Eddie Iris’ whereabouts – or his own for that matter.

Still, when a knock came to Linda’s apartment door, Iris quietly gasped and actually hid behind Barry – an injured man.

“I’m sure it’s not-” he tried, but she was so sure.

“It’s me, Bear. Iris?”

Iris leaned her head on Barry’s shoulder, then released him a few moments later once she’d caught her breath.

She went up on her tip-toes at the door and looked through the peephole. Just her dad. She opened the door and let him in, then fell into his arms as soon as she had the chance.

“Are you- Are you two okay? What’s going on?” He looked back and forth between the two once Iris was brave enough to untangle herself.

Barry nodded to Iris, assuring he was there for her if she couldn’t get the words out.

She hesitated, but only for a moment.

“Eddie told me he did it,” she said.

Joe’s brows furrowed.

“Eddie told you he did what?”

“He beat up Barry, Dad. He’s the reason he was in the hospital.”

Joe’s hand went to cover his mouth.

“Oh, my God. You’re sure?”

“He admitted it to me. And…” She looked back at Barry. “Barry remembers some of it.”

Joe’s eyes bulged, and he moved past his daughter.

“Son, why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I asked him not to,” Iris said, ashamedly.

Joe spun around. “You what?”

“It sounded crazy! The Eddie I know would never never go through with anything like that. I couldn’t believe it when Barry told me he’d… I thought that maybe in his rage, maybe once…but enough to put him in the hospital? No way.”

“Tell him the rest, Iris,” Barry said softly.

Joe’s eyes bulged. “What, rest?”

Her bottom lip trembled. She fought to control it, and that seemed to calm Joe West down.

“He’s been threatening me, Dad. Vague threats, threats I didn’t take seriously…things like what he’d do to me if I tried to bridge a friendship between Barry again. Or…worse.”

“And has he ever followed through on any of these threats?” Joe growled, his fists clenching at his sides.

“No, never,” she insisted, coming to her dad’s side. “And I never believed he would. It was all talk. Or at least…that’s what I thought…before…Barry.”

She looked down, ashamedly.

“Joe, you have to arrest him,” Barry said darkly, alarming Iris, but she didn’t speak up to reject the idea. “Threats to his wife? Attacking me without cause? Iris never cheated. It’s all paranoia.”

Joe looked doubtful of that, but he didn’t press the matter in that particular moment.

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take this information to Singh. I’ll record you both saying what happened from your own point of view, and then we’ll go from there.” He switched his gaze to Iris. “Baby girl, I don’t want you going home tonight. You come home with me, Cecile and I will protect you.”

He looked at Barry.

“And Barry, I don’t know what Eddie will do until we have guaranteed proof to arrest him.”

“Cameras!” Iris piped up. “There have to be cameras outside our loft.”

Joe nodded. “I’ll look into that.”

“Check CCPN too, Joe. I’m worried for Linda. I think Eddie know that she’s the only person whose been glued to me since the gala. I don’t want him to…” His gaze shifted to Iris’ before landing back on Joe. “Take her hostage.”

“Hostage,” Iris breathed, overwhelmed. “You think Eddie is capable of kidnapping?”

Barry hesitated, then said, “Right now, I think Eddie is capable of just about anything.”

Iris swallowed, then went into the living room where she sat down with her head in her hands.

Joe lowered his voice when he addressed Barry again.

“You alright here, son?”

Barry nodded. “Yeah, Linda has a good set-up for me here. As long as she’s okay, and you and Iris are okay, I think we’ll make it out of this.”

Joe nodded.

“But…”

“But?”

“I don’t know if we should let Iris go back to work. If Eddie left for lunch, he could’ve gone to CCPN looking for her, and when he didn’t find her-”

The sound of a key turning in the lock alerted all three of them, and they watched with horror as the doorknob turned and the door pushed open only for the new arrival to be even more surprised to see all of them.

“Oh. Hello, all of you. Please make yourself at home.”

The easy sarcasm was a relief cutting through the tension that surrounded the three of them beforehand.

“Linda!” Barry said, relieved. He walked around Joe to attempt a side hug on the welcome party. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Barry.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Why aren’t you in bed, resting?”

“I, well, I…”

Iris rose from the couch.

“That’s on me, Linda. I’m sorry. I just…I had to tell him.”

“Tell him what…exactly?”

“Well, I-”

A squeaking sound interrupted them and the door opened again, followed by a tsking sound clicking from the mouth of their newest arrival. This one was very, very unwelcome.

The clicking sound coming from a gun in the arrival’s hand increased the tension in the room once more tenfold.

“Eddie.”

He walked in, closed the door behind him and locked it.

“You know, you really need to learn to lock the door after you’ve entered your home, Linda.”

His smile was sinister, as he eyed them all, his gun pointed at them as a group and wavering, so none of them were sure who his true target was, but they had an idea.

“Barry Allen,” he finally said. “Something tells me you know more than what you’re supposed to.”

“Babe,” Iris tried, “Please don’t do this.”

“And I know exactly who told you.”

The gun swerved, clicked again, and went off.

Though it didn’t hit its intended target.

Shuffling and resisting cries followed, but Iris West-Thawne was pulled out of that apartment, and the door was slammed behind her.

Barry was on the floor immediately, his hands frantic on the wounded party, even as it hurt him to bend down with his pain pills wearing off.

“Joe? Joe? Joe!”

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #hazy #chapter 10 #dramaaaaaaaa

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Think You’re An Angel (Anymore)

A Lewis Nixon x OFC One Shot

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Thank you to @basilone @softspeirs and @mercurygray for all your help on this! I am much happier with how it turned out thanks to y’all’s suggestions :)

Warning(s): Some suggestive language, but that’s about it

***

Her father once told her that nursing would make her feel fulfilled. It would get her back on her feet after such tragedy struck. Nothing healed like giving back and healing others, he said. Especially after downing whiskey and kissing strangers didn’t work, she thought.

It did the trick, to be sure. Nursing school was rigorous, but it taught her a lot about herself. She met some of her greatest friends there, and new connections soothed the ache from the burn of the ones she lost. With a new support system, she wearily clawed her way out of the ashes of her grief, and stood up again. And when the war came, she and thousands like her were able to charge into the fray.

But the last thing Bonnie wanted now was to be on her feet - in a much more literal sense. The Austrian sun shone outside, calling to her, coaxing her to come out and warm her face and rest her sore feet. But she didn’t have a day off for another two days. And after almost eight hours at the hospital, there were still more patients to check on before she could clock out. She felt that familiar throb in her heels as she headed into the next ward.

Shit.

There he stood. The man she once knew as Lewis Nixon, but for many years, only referred to as “The Worst Mistake I Ever Made.”

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

He was coming closer, accompanied by a red-headed major she didn’t recognize. To her dismay, they headed for Sergeant Grant’s bed, the very patient she was supposed to check on. He was still recovering from his surgery until he was well enough to be moved to England.

She decided to grit her teeth and bear it. Years had passed. Why should he bother her now? He probably wouldn’t even recognize her. She knew herself to be an unremarkable part of his life. How else could he have done what he did?

She strode over to the bed and ignored the men standing beside it. She lifted Grant’s chart and scanned it, but she couldn’t absorb anything. She could feel Lewis’s eyes on her. Moments that might have been hours passed as he stared, and she pretended she didn’t notice.

“Bonnie?”

Shit.

Biting back a groan, she looked at him, and met his eyes. Those eyes that once made her legs weak and her heart soft. But now only activated her punching reflex. She glanced at his collar to get his rank.

“Captain,” she said coolly.

She returned her eyes to the clipboard.

“Okay, I know it doesn’t take that long to read a chart,” he said.

She snapped it shut and glared at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were a medical professional. Would you like a white coat and stethoscope? Just clock in since you seem to know so much!”

“Still mad, I see,” he said with a grimace.

“Oh, get over yourself,” she shot back.

“So, you two know each other?” the red-head observed, cutting the tension.

“It was a long time ago,” she said. “We went to school together.”

“We used to date,” Lewis added.

“Could not have been more obvious I preferred to keep that private, but I guess we’re in this room now,” she said.

“Dick, this is Bonnie Butler,” Nix said. “Bonnie, this is Major Dick Winters.”

“How do you do?” she said politely.

“Nice to meet you,” Dick replied. “Bonnie Butler...like the little girl from Gone With the Wind?”

“If fairness, I had the name first,” she pointed out. “And I haven’t broken my neck falling off a horse, but I avoid them just in case.”

They both chuckled, and she refrained from smirking with satisfaction. Her need to impress him disturbed her.

“I gotta admit I’m surprised to see you here,” Lewis said.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Lewis, anything I’m doing should come as a surprise to you,” she returned.

Now that the initial contact was made, she had an easier time going about her job checking on Grant. It was pretty basic, just taking vitals and ensuring he was still stable. Which he was.

“Well, I’ll let you visit now,” she said.

She started to go.

“Kathy’s leaving me,” he blurted out.

She turned to face him, expression level. “Is that supposed to mean something to me, Lewis?”

It should have felt like victory. Like justice. But it only made her sad. None of it meant anything now. Her loving him, him loving Kathy, and Bonnie hating them both for it. The agony she faced because he chose her friend was only worth a few years of marriage.

Did everything have to fall apart? Was nothing truly built to last? The war showed her that even thousand-year-old buildings would crumble under a bomb. Just as she crumbled when Lewis dropped the truth about him and Kathy. But now they were in ruins as well, so what was the point in any of it?

He shifted his weight between his feet, as he always did when he was anxious. He looked at the ground and then back at her, his eyes revealing how deeply he was stung.

“Guess not,” he said. “I’ll see you around, Bonnie.”

She didn’t answer for so long he feared she would not at all. But she was still looking at him.

“I should hope not, Lewis,” she finally said.

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the wing. Dick looked at Bonnie and then at his friend. He had never seen Lewis look so guilty. There was a deep remorse there, which indicated a great impact on his life, but Dick could not recall Lewis ever mentioning this woman.

“What did you do to her?” Dick asked.

Lewis cleared his throat before he answered. “Did I ever tell you how I met Kathy?”

Dick shook his head.

“Well, Bonnie and I were dating,” Lewis began. “Kathy was her best friend. And, well...we fell in love. Behind Bonnie’s back. We had an affair for six months before we came clean.”

Dick blinked, taken aback. He knew Lewis was not the most ethical person in the world, but he did not expect his friend to be capable of something like that. He didn’t blame Bonnie at all for the way she spoke to Lewis. That kind of betrayal went deep because it was not just her boyfriend, but the one person she was supposed to be able to rely on when her boyfriend messed up. And then, to add insult to injury, they ended up married. Now, Dick was impressed with how Bonnie handled the news of the divorce. She had every right to laugh in his face. And she didn’t.

“Did you apologize?” Dick asked.

“Oh, only about a thousand times,” Lewis replied. “And even after some time went by, Kathy and I tried to reach out again, but she wanted nothing to do with us. And we didn’t blame her, of course, but it still hurt.”

A beat passed. Lewis watched the door where Bonnie disappeared and wondered now if his split from Kathy was his punishment for what he did to her. That he and Kathy - because they started as a transgression - were perhaps doomed to fail.

“C’mon, Nix,” Dick said. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Or dink,” Lewis returned.

They left the hospital, but he found himself wishing he could find her again. Explain some more. But he knew better.

The following morning, Bonnie went to change an IV for a young corporal who had drunkenly jumped from a fourth story window and broken his leg. Many of the injuries she treated these days were caused by the jubilance of VE-Day, and she couldn’t say she blamed them, but she did wish they would be more careful.

“Thanks, Nurse Butler,” the corporal said.

“I’m just doing my job,” she replied gently. “This’ll only take a moment.”

She reached for the bag, when she suddenly heard a dreaded voice from behind her.

“Careful with those, they can get messy,” Lewis said.

She whipped around.

“I’m sorry, don’t I first open my eyes and realize it’s a new day?” she asked sarcastically.

“I didn’t -”

“What is this magic bag in front of me?!” she exclaimed, holding the IV bag out with taunting wonder.

“Look -”

“I’ve done this before,” she said sharply, becoming serious again and facing the patient, who was snickering.

“I know that,” he said.

“Then stop telling me what to do,” she retorted.

“I was joking,” he said calmly. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” she shot back, with a bitterness that told him she meant more than just the joke.

He did not speak again until after the IV was replaced. When she finished, she ignored Lewis and began walking away.

“Bonnie, wait, I think we should talk about things,” he said, trailing behind her.

“I disagree,” she replied. “Besides, I’m working.”

“When is your shift over?”

“You know I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Please -”

She halted and whirled around. He skidded to a stop a few feet away.

“What is it you’re so desperate to tell me?” she demanded. “That you’re sorry? Because I’ve heard that before, Lewis, and I don’t care.”

“You really can’t forgive me?” he asked. “After all this time?”

She wondered that herself often enough. But there was too much. Not only the betrayal, but the effects of it. How could she forgive him for the worthless way she felt? How could she forgive him for her now ingrained lack of trust? How could she forgive him for the nights she spent crying on the kitchen floor, convinced that this was what love felt like?

His eyes clung to her gaze, and she endured a long moment of weakness where she felt totally incapable of turning away from him. But she knew she could now because she had done it before.

“No,” she said, surprised by the croak in her voice and the lump in her throat.

She didn’t wait for him to answer. She walked away, and thankfully, he didn’t follow.

Another day passed. Lewis did not return to the hospital, and Bonnie was relieved. She worked the rest of her shift in peace. The only disturbance was a violent thunderstorm, which rumbled in the sky and pelted rain down against the roof all day.

When her shift concluded, it was still raining. Unwilling to get drenched, she went to the doctor’s lounge, which nurses frequented as well, for a drink. She had the next day off, so she figured she could afford to get a little tipsy. Her true goal was to get Lewis Nixon off her mind, but as she walked in, she met a dismal sight. There he sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey, looking sadly at a letter.

She looked at the heavens to address God directly.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

She waited a moment, but received no reply. So with a sigh, she went over to the bar and took the stool beside Lewis.

“You know, if you’re not medical personnel, you’re not really supposed to be in here,” she said.

He looked at her. “Are you speaking to me now?”

“I never said we can’t speak in general,” she said. “Just not about our past.”

“I see,” he returned. “Well, to address your earlier statement, this is the only place they have Vat 69 in all of Europe apparently.”

“You’re still drinking that nasty stuff?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re not?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve moved on.”

With that, she ordered a gin and tonic. They waited in silence as the bartender prepared it. The soft clink of ice and pop of the gin bottle might as well have been explosions. There were no other patrons to fill up the space.

“So, are we gonna catch up?” he wondered. “Like old friends?”

“I don’t think we were ever really friends,” she replied. “If we were, you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he warned jokingly. “That is forbidden territory.”

“Do you wanna talk or do you wanna fuck around?” she retorted.

“If we’re not gonna address the elephant in the room, I’d argue that all we’re doing is fucking around,” he said.

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. As she relaxed into her chair and took a sip of her drink, memories of them laughing together swam before her. Those tidbits of happiness that she locked away so that they couldn’t hurt her anymore. Back when she thought of him as her whole world.

“Alright, let’s fuck around,” she said.

She let him go first. He talked about his son, then about joining the Airborne, about meeting Dick Winters, and he even admitted that he never fired a shot in combat. She told him about nursing school, enlisting, and a bit about her journey through Europe. It was all very surface level and appropriate. But it wasn’t them.

“Would I be trespassing if I asked about your parents?” he wondered after their third round.

She considered it as she sipped her fourth cocktail. They grew up together, so she supposed it was fair.

“Fine,” she said. “But it might depress you. Dad passed away, and Mom really hasn’t been the same since.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “They were always nice to me. Even after…”

She nodded, turning her glass on the counter, keeping her watering eyes focused on it. As her mother deteriorated, she kept asking where “that angel Lewis” was. Mrs. Butler doted on Lewis Nixon as if he were her own son. And Bonnie’s was not the only heart broken when everything happened. But now Mrs. Butler was stuck in a time before that, and Bonnie never had the heart to remind her that things were different now.

“She asks about you,” Bonnie blurted out. “Mom does.”

“And what do you say?” he asked.

“I tell her you’re coming any day now,” she said. “Of course she doesn’t know the difference. She can’t remember anything.”

He half smiled. “Well, I better go see her so I don’t make a liar out of you.”

She half smiled back. “That’d mean a lot to her.”

She paused a beat while a doctor and another nurse filed in and took up two stools just a few seats away from her and Lewis. The other two were obviously romantic - their knees touched, their hands lingered close to each other, and they hardly looked at the bartender as they ordered. They were so wrapped up in each other. Bonnie felt the distance between her and Lewis was cavernous in comparison. She took a dink.

“Um, how are your folks? Feeling alright?” she asked after swallowing.

“Oh, they’re the same as ever,” he said. “A little cold, a little rich. They’re gonna lose it when I tell them about the divorce.”

“You’re a grown man,” she reminded him. “What could they do?”

“You act like growing up means your parents can’t be obnoxious,” he said. “They can and they will.”

She bit her lip with hesitation. “Can I ask you something? It might be crossing a line.”

“Honey, I’m on my fifth whiskey, you can ask me whatever you want,” he assured her, knocking back the last gulp in his glass.

“Why can’t it work between you and Kath - your wife?” she asked.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the name. Calling her “Kathy” made her who Kathy was. Bonnie’s former best friend who betrayed her in the worst way possible. Calling her “his wife” reduced her to an abstract. She could be anyone in theory.

“She met someone else,” he answered. “Ironically enough.”

The air around them felt thick again.

“You can laugh,” he said. “It must feel like poetic justice or something to you.”

She shook her head. “The last thing I feel like doing is laughing. That kind of hurt is not something I would wish on anyone, not even you.”

“It feels like you’re supporting me, but just barely,” he joked.

She offered a smile. “I’m sorry, Lew. Really, I am.”

“Thanks,” he said. “But how on Earth are you so goddamn understanding?”

Her brow furrowed. “What? I’m not being understanding. I still think you’re rude for what you did.”

He blinked. “Rude?!”

“Yes, rude!” she cried. “You wanna cheat on me? That’s fine! You wanna marry that girl and get her pregnant? Fine! But to make it my best friend? That’s just rude!”

He laughed. An old, buried admiration for his smile crept up into her heart - right along the very cracks he had created and she had forced back together, never fully repairing the damage. She looked away, only to see the other couple was kissing now, and Bonnie had to turn her back to them.

“Well, I apologize for my rudeness,” he said.

“Based on the situation, I’m sure it won’t happen again,” she replied.

“Ouch,” he said. “But well deserved on my part.”

“I’ll say,” she agreed. “But...can I ask you one more thing?”

“We have already crossed way beyond the line, go ahead,” he said.

“If you two felt that way about each other,” she began. “Why didn’t you just tell me? If you had been honest, I would have told you I’d be fine. I would never have stood in the way of your happiness. The lie hurt me more than the blow to my ego.”

He took a drink of his fresh glass of whiskey and swished it in his mouth briefly before swallowing - a tactic she was familiar with. He was constructing a careful answer.

“First of all, in fairness to us, we had no way of knowing that,” he said. “Second of all, and perhaps worst of all, we...we didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But don’t you see how it’s worse that you -”

“Of course,” he cut across her. “Of course we see how what we did was worse. We were young and stupid and afraid. And look where we are now.”

At that, they both finished their drinks. She bounced her foot a moment as what she was about to say bubbled up. Could she really say it? Did she mean it? She glanced at his face and got her answer.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“To what?” he asked. “I hope it’s to tell those two to get a room.”

He nodded down the bar at the doctor and nurse. Their drinks remained untouched, but the same could not be said for their legs or their backsides. Bonnie snorted.

“C’mon, give them a break,” she said. “You remember what it was like when it was new.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said fondly. “Remember that time at Joan Watson’s party, when you and I went upstairs and -”

She squeaked to cut him off and her face went beet red. A fleeting memory of his hands on a lot more than her legs made her squirm in her seat. She cleared her throat.

“As I was saying,” she said firmly.

“Right, sorry,” he said through a chuckle. “What is it you’re ready for?”

“To forgive you,” she told him. “We’re both different people now, aren’t we?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’d say that’s true.”

He sat up a little straighter, appearing lighter. He pursed his lips too, fighting the grin that was spreading across his face.

“Wanna get out of here?” she suggested.

“I’m still enjoying my whiskey,” he said.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough whiskey for - I dunno - a lifetime?”

“Not my lifetime.”

She rolled her eyes. He met her gaze and smirked. Then, he got to his feet, and offered her his hand. She took it, and they touched for the first time since what they each thought was to be the last time. Who could have imagined they would find each other again in Austria? So far from home and everything they knew together? And yet, through clasped hands, they felt that home was not so far away after all.

He helped her off the stool, they paid, and then walked outside together. The clouds had disappeared and the sun was beating down a fresh, fragrant warmth. The air was clear. The storm had passed.

#band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x ofc #hbo war #Easy Company #band of brothers fic #lewis nixon imagine #idk what else to tag this shit #i hope y'all like it

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

Text

Stuck in reverse - pt 8 - finale

Neil x Reader

Chapter 8: Never let me go

(see Chapter 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary:

//And it’s over and I’m going under But I’m not giving up I’m just giving in//

warnings: language.

author’s note: There it is, folks. Thank you for staying with me until the end, for every kind word and all the support you showed me along the way.

—

“…Neil?”

You sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes. Yawning, you looked around the room. You noticed his things were gone.

Why would he-…

The sudden anxiety spike wiped all the remaining sleepiness from your brain. You quickly put on your clothes, grabbed your phone and went outside.

You tried Neil’s number, looking at the sun rising over the horizon. No response.

Maybe he put it on silent. Maybe he was in the canteen.

You almost slipped on the wet stairs.

He wasn’t there.

Instead, you found Ives and Wheeler. He was leaning against the wall with a mug in his hand, she was sitting at the table, clenching her cup of coffee so hard that her knuckles were white.

“Hey guys, where’s Neil?”

They didn’t even look at you.

“…hello, have you seen-”

Wheeler’s face went pale, she looked as if she was about to pass out. Her eyes darted at Ives.

“I can’t-”

“Y/N, sit down,” he sighed, pointing at a chair in front of Wheeler.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. You crossed your arms and inhaled slowly. That was not happening.

“Just tell me.”

“Neil went back.”

You blinked twice and furrowed your brows. It didn’t make any sense.

“…he what?”

Ives put down his mug and gazed at you. “Neil went back to Stalsk,” he said slowly.

“But-”

“Look,“ - Ives groaned in frustration - “there was a fucking lock down there, he went back to open it for us.”

Your heart sank in your chest.

The pain in Neil’s eyes when he came back.

You dug your fingers into your arms, trying to stop your mind from racing. “Okay, but he should have gone back with yesterday’s squads anyway-”

“Y/N, he stayed there.”

Neil’s face when he was watching the waves.

You were fighting for every breath. You looked at Wheeler, but she was just sitting there with her face hidden in her palms.

“What do you mean he-”

Ives shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”

You gasped at the sudden realization. Your eyes widened, the pulse was pounding in your ears.

Neil’s sharp chuckle when you talked about your possible future together after quitting the organization.

The pit in your chest was slowly being filled with rising anger. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes.

“…No.”

You felt a touch on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” said Ives quietly.

You brushed off his hand. “No,” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Tell me what happened.”

Ives glared at you, taken aback by your reaction.

“He got shot.”

You exhaled slowly, locking away a rising panic and all unnecessary emotions. You left out the anger, though.

“So?” - you shrugged - “You sent a medic team for him, right?”

Ives frowned and looked away. “There was no point,” he sighed.

“The fuck do you mean-…” you huffed in disbelief. “It’s not a fucking movie, Ives, it doesn’t mean-” you hesitated as you noticed Ives and Wheeler exchanging looks. “Wheeler?” - your eyes narrowed - “Say something, damn it!”

Silence.

“Fuck you both. I’m going there,” you scoffed as you slowly backed away.

“You’re not going anywhere-” Ives raised his voice, but you were already on your way out.

“Watch me.”

“Goddammit, Y/N, he got shot in the fucking head!”

You stopped and clenched your fists.

“…so?”

“Are you fucking serious-”

“No, are you fucking serious,” - you snapped and turned around, pointing your finger at Ives - “you just wanna give up on him without even trying-…”

Ives looked like he was about to punch you. “What does Neil always say?” he yelled. “What’s happend’s happened! Do you even realize I should have shot him right after the mission?! And Priya-…”

But you stormed out of the canteen and couldn’t hear him anymore.

___

You rolled out the maps of Stalsk-12 and the Hypocenter. With your hands gripped on the edge of the table, you let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep yourself together, but for now, you were riding on adrenaline rush, slowly slipping into your mission mode.

Someone entered the room. You looked over the shoulder and saw Wheeler walking up to you.

She glanced over the maps and nodded slowly.

“Listen, I can’t just-” you began, but the words got stuck in your throat. Your mind went blank as a result of your brain’s desperate attempts to prevent you from breaking down.

Wheeler looked you in the eyes and a faint smile appeared on her face. “I know. You can’t go in there alone. I’m coming with you.”

A wave of relief almost swept you from your feet.

“But Ives-”

“Oh you know him, he fumed something about some cowboy shit and both of you being bloody perfect for each other,” Wheeler chuckled lightly. “He went to wake up few guys from the trauma team. Now come on,” - she patted you on the arm - “let’s crack this out.”

___

The team’s footsteps clanked against the metal crate on the floor. You tightened your hold on the rifle as you peaked around the corner, but the corridor looked clear. How did they overlook that entrance in the first place?

You rushed to take cover behind a collapsed wall, Wheeler and two medics ducking right behind you. Then you just had to wait.

You couldn’t understand Ives and The Protagonist yelling on the balcony below you. A gunshot echoed through the corridor, followed closely by the second one.

The thing about being inverted was that you rarely paid attention to the chain of events going both ways simultaneously, you had to focus on your own mission. You couldn’t overthink it, you had to feel it to be as effective on the field as possible.

After the third gunshot rang in your ears, you heard the sound of a body hitting the floor.

You winced and bit your lip to stifle any sound that would escape your mouth. You knew what that order meant. It took all your willpower to stay in your place instead of running down those bloody stairs to put a bullet through Volkov’s head. You wrapped your fingers around the teal string on your wrist. Breathe.

Every second felt like an eternity. You could see Wheeler’s hands shaking slightly on her weapon.

Another body hit the floor, then you heard the fourth gunshot. Just a little while longer. You watched Volkov going backwards up the stairs and down the corridor. You gritted your teeth, your body tensed and you were ready to move the second he vanished around the corner.

You jumped at your feet and sprinted to the metal staircase.

There he was.

You fell on your knees right next to Neil and tossed your rifle to the side. You fixed your eyes on his face, covered in blood underneath the mask.

“Neil?” you grabbed his hand and pulled it to your chest, squeezing his fingers.

God, no, no, no, don’t do this to me.

“Neil, sweetie, can you hear me?” your voice was strained as you held your breath, stroking his palm with your thumbs. “We’re getting you out of here, all right?”

The whole world was collapsing on your head, you could barely hear your teammates barking commands at each other. “Please, please, love, don’t-”

Neil gasped quietly and looked at you, his eyes widened in shock and terror.

The fight wasn’t over yet.

You moved away to make room for the medics, not letting go of Neil’s hand.

___

The flight back to the base was excruciatingly long. The trauma team stabilized Neil the best as they could on the way there, but he had to get on the operating table as soon as possible. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, despite your best efforts to keep him awake. When the helicopter touched down on the hospital ship, the medical staff was already waiting for you at the LZ. You didn’t leave Neil’s side all the way to the surgery wing, where you got ushered away by the nurses.

You watched as the door closed behind him.

You leaned against the cold wall and your legs just gave in. All the emotions, bottled up long enough for you to survive that whole mission, got released at once. You sat down on the floor and hid your face in your palms, gasping frantically for air, your chest painfully clenched, your whole body shaking from violent sobs.

…Please, please, love, don’t leave me.

___

“…You look like shit.”

“Thanks, I feel like one,” you scoffed as you closed the door behind you, glaring at Ives.

He shot you a concerned look. “Mate, seriously, have you eaten anything since you got back? Don’t make me send Seb over here to feed you with a spoon, eh?” the corner of his lips quirked into a smile.

You mused at that idea for a moment and shook your head. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Ives sighed and pointed at the door.

“How is he?”

“The doctors said he got lucky, the bullet missed the vital parts of the brain, but for now it’s hard to say how big the damage is. The next few days are going to be critical, we have to wait to see if-…” you choked on the last word, your eyes welled up slowly.

“Hey, hey, hey, no, come here,” Ives reached out his arm pulled you into a hug. “No ifs, you hear me?”

You let out a shaky breath as you pressed your forehead to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Y/N, I’m a fucking idiot, I’m sorry.”

You pulled back and squeezed his arm, smiling sadly. You looked in his eyes. There were no more words needed, both of you just nodded.

As you reached for the knob, you hesitated.

“Ives, I quit.”

He scoffed, “Don’t say it too loud or I’ll be forced to throw you overboard, ey?”

You rolled your eyes and you went back to Neil’s room.

___

You didn’t know how much time had passed. All days blended into one, filled with the steady beeping of various machines, the nauseating smell of disinfectants, frequent medical check-ups, and the agonizing waiting. Wheeler popped in few times to make sure you were holding in there, but even though you were glad to see a friendly face, sometimes you caught her staring at you with a silent question in her eyes, the same question you saw in the eyes of every person who came into that room.

Was it worth it?

No one dared to ask it aloud, though.

Because of that question, you preferred the moments you were left alone, sitting at the bedside.

You waited.

You thought it would get easier once they unplugged the respirator, because that meant Neil was well enough to breathe on his own, but it didn’t get any easier, not really. It was still hard to say how long it would take him to regain consciousness.

So you held his hand and you waited.

You couldn’t rest, every time you closed your eyes you were haunted by the image of Neil’s face covered in blood, by the panic in his eyes. At some nights, when the pain and loneliness became unbearable, you curled next to him on the hospital bed, trying to find a bit of comfort in being close to him, in feeling his warmth. In Neil’s heartbeat, reminding you that he was still there with you, as you cried yourself to sleep.

At other nights, you just leaned from your chair and rested your cheek on his palm as your mind drifted off into a nightmare filled abyss

One night, you felt a soft touch on your forehead.

That was just a dream. And if it was, you didn’t want to wake up. You squinted your eyes, swallowing a tear with every gentle stroke on your hair.

“Hey you,” Neil’s voice was hoarse and quiet.

You looked at his face and a sob escaped your mouth.

Neil’s blue eyes were fixed on you, his lips curled into a half-smile.

“What did I miss?”

___

“…and two frappés, please. Thank you,” - you smiled, handing your menu back to the waiter.

“It never gets old, doesn’t it?”

You leaned back and giggled. Neil was staring at you with those playful sparks in his eyes again, a big grin brightening his tanned face.

“Nope,” you smacked your lips and smirked. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. The scent of a nearby paperflower bush was mixing with salty wind blowing from the sea.

You looked at the dark clouds on the horizon.

“How much time do you think we have before it starts raining?”

Neil’s eyes followed your gaze. “I think-…” he hesitated. His shoulders tensed, a hint of frustration tainted his face. You took his hand and laced your fingers together. He sighed and relaxed, shooting you a thankful look. “….optimistically I’d say four to five hours.”

You nodded slowly and smiled. “Maybe we could stop by the beach before we find a place for tonight then?”

Neil pulled your hand closer and placed a small kiss on your fingers.

“I think we should.”

You looked over your shoulder at the waiter coming back to your table with two big plates of pasta.

You chuckled.

Life was good.

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #stuck in reverse

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yandere-sins · 4 years

Note

omg!! if u do the arcana now... could I request something along the lines of asra going nuts if his darling gets with julian or lucio? i haven't been able to play lucio's route properly BC I feel so bad for asra lol

Since I am not a fan of canon!Lucio, I don’t exactly recommend his route, but for completion's sake, you should maybe have a look for it and see all his... oopsies xD Thanks for requesting, I hope you like it!

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

“I said ‘no’!”

“Excuse you?!” your protests fell on death ears as Asra’s hand stayed wrapped around your wrist. Darkness already fell over the alleyways and streets he led you through, back to the shop, the place you both considered ‘home’ - even if you thought differently about it now.

“I told you to stay indoors until I’m back! But what do I find when I return? Not you, that much is sure!”

You huffed, stumbling after him. He wouldn’t let go, no matter how much you struggled and tried to tear your hand away. There wasn’t really a reason to fight either. Asra was many things: Your friend, your roommate, your mentor! The last thing you wanted to do was actively fight him. “Obviously! I told you I was invited by Julian for a few drinks tonight, did you forget?”

Considering he had found you in the Rowdy Raven straight away, he probably hadn’t forgotten what you told him that morning. It had been a spontaneous, yet welcome invitation from the charming doctor, and you had been excited for it all day. “Why can’t you just listen?!”

You two finally reached the entrance to the shop, Asra only needing to lift his hand before the door swung open, his magic unlocking the spell keeping it shut. The moment you were inside, it flung back closed, Asra’s body brushing up to yours, cornering you against the next best wall. “He’s. Not. Good. For you!” Asra emphasized his words from that morning, slowly and belittling.

“Why do you say that? You don’t even know him, Asra!”

“Oh, believe me, I know Julian. He’s a pesky crybaby, and you’d do better without him.”

With both hands, you gave his chest a rough push, getting him away from you. “Yeah? Well, I think he’s lovely! And funny! And charming! Not like you-”

You didn’t get to end your sentence as two lips hit yours to silence you. Taken aback by the kiss, you tried to shove Asra away, only earning you a sting in your lower lip as he bit down. “Don’t you understand he’s not good for you? You already have me, why would you need him?!”

“Where-” Struggling some more, he allowed you to have some space between your bodies in favor of not getting struck by your flailing arm. However, you were still enclosed between his limbs and a corner, making it hard to duck out. “Where do I have you?! We’re not a couple, Asra!”

“Stop it!” he demanded, banging his hand against the wall, making you flinch by the sudden violent outburst. “Stop it, [Name]... I don’t want us to fight, please...”

From one moment to the other, his anger seemed to disappear, a sad expression falling over his darkened eyes. All of a sudden, you felt bad, despite knowing you weren’t in the wrong here. But, you, too, didn’t want to fight him. “I’m scared to lose you,” he whispered, leaning his head against your shoulder, arms slumping to his sides. “I’m so scared he will take you away from me, you are all I have left.”

“Asra...” you mumbled, awkwardly putting your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him up into a stand. But instead, he snaked his arms around you, pulling you in close into an embrace, and unsure what to do with yourself, you hugged him back. “I like Julian... you have to accept that.”

“Please...” His voice sounded hoarse, close to tears as you wondered what you could do. Asra was your longest friend, the person you always had been closest to. Hearing how hurt he was made you feel bad, despite your feelings reaching out to someone else. “Let’s work something out, [Name]. Something different...”

“Okay,” you sighed, agreeing with him. “But tomorrow, okay? This... this all is just a little too much for me right now.”

Finally, Asra let go of you, nodding slowly, and this time, he didn’t hold you back as you moved away, quickly taking the first steps up to the living space above the shop. Only halfway through did you turn around, looking back at his deflated figure standing in the middle of the room, but you knew deep down that you two needed some space from each other to think and go through the happenings of the day even if he looked miserable. “Good night, Asra...” you mumbled quietly before walking upstairs, ready to fall into your bed.

And Asra? He only scratched his head, trying to come up with a solution. Perhaps, if you couldn’t be lead from the ideas you had, you were the wrong person to intimidate. Maybe it wasn’t you at all who needed the reminder who you belonged to. Asra had always been yours. The moment he sacrificed his heart for you, he knew he’d always be with you, no matter what. Sure, it would hurt if something - or someone - made Julian change his mind about you. Someone like Asra, who knew his weaknesses all too well.

But what was a little hurt for a future together? It seemed like a small prize for Asra to pay if it meant he had you running back into his arms like the good-hearted person you were, finding out that he had been the right one all along.

#Asra #Asra Alnazar #yandere asra #yandere!asra #The Arcana #The Arcana game #yandere the arcana #yandere!the arcana #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #Anonymous

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barnesbabee · 4 years

Text

Edge Of Glory || C.J

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Words: Idk but from the top of my head I’d bet on 3126 words

Pieces of lyrics from the song are written in bold

⚠ drug abuse, mentions of physical/psychological abuse (not from the idol), mentions of death and suicide, dystopian!au ⚠

Warning: There are disturbing/ scenes described. Read at your own risk.

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ x ʟᴀᴅʏ ɢᴀɢᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ || ᴘ4

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴏʀʏ ᴍᴠ

A worldwide pandemic took all nations by surprise, one worse than any century had ever experienced, one that all safety precautions, medicine and technology couldn’t fight. It came down onto the whole world like a train and the population decreased greatly, along with all of the resources.

Hazmats became the trending fashion and hospitals became the new hotels. Everything was at max capacity, and the bodies of deceased people piled up on the streets. Pale corpses that looked like they had been drained of all of their blood laid against the walls, on top of each other, or sprawled on the road. It was every man for themselves, and chaos dominated.

You were a little relieved, however. Your parents wouldn’t allow you to leave the house for safety, but every time you looked out of the window every deceased person seemed to be of age, more specifically, a mature adult. Mostly people from their thirties on.

Maybe it didn’t affect younger people? Maybe their immune system was good enough to fight the disease?

You had many doubts, but not enough answers. No one had answers, and suddenly everyone had a God. When nurses and doctors fled, when the news disappeared and it all stopped being transmitted, everyone started praying, ironically.

Your parents were jittery and nervous all the time, but that was a normal reaction, they had seen and experienced the outside world. You felt safe in their presence, although seeing them come in the house in the yellow suits kind of scared you.

Months were spent in this routine, and all seemed normal (within the limits). One day, however, you were woken up by loud banging on the front door. You immediately stood up from bed, a little dizzy from the sudden movement, and wobbled over to your door. You pressed your ear against the wooden door to hear whatever went on downstairs. You had never gotten visitors…

You heard the downstairs door creak open and a male, harsh, demanding voice spoke.

“Any kids in?” He simply asked.

“N-no, Sir. We’ve never been able to have kids.”

You frowned at the shaky voice. They did have a kid though...

The nervousness in your mom’s voice, the violent man’s tone, and the lie immediately raised a red flag for you. You became uncertain and shaky. Who was he!?

You prepared for the worst. You shoved a couple things in a backpack, the absolute necessary, and opened your bedroom’s window as quietly as possible. You looked down at the previously green grass outside. It was far. If you had to jump you were gonna hurt yourself, so you just prayed that they’d leave.

“Surely you wouldn’t mind us looking around then?”

Your eyes widened, and you immediately took this as your cue. You put on the black gas mask your parents had given you in case of emergency and sat by the window pane.

“What? B-but I told you we don’t have-”

“Ma’am please step off or you’ll be taken.” He rudely interrupted your mother.

You heard heavy footsteps echo throughout the house, and without a second thought jumped off. You pursed your lips together to prevent the scream from escaping past your lips as you landed on your side, on top of a couple of rocks.

You got up as quickly as you fell down and ran. You ran as fast as you could, always holding your aching side.

You had no idea where you were wandering, you had no idea what was safe or not, and you had no idea what was happening, but you ran anyways.

It had been four days. You had seen some people running around and looting stores, you had seen some people in suits patrolling, and you had seen huge tanks taking over the city. You always felt the floor shake when one of them approached, so it was easy to hide. You wondered what they were for, but then again your imagination had run short.

You hadn’t found a place you deemed safe yet. You’d sleep in hidden street corners and stolen from beaten-up shops to survive, but you were becoming tired and desperate. Hope died very quickly in a place like that, and every morning it was hard not to give up.

After the longest days of your life, you decided to risk it. You went into the only part in town you hadn’t scavaged. It was previously known for illegal activity and for being generally very shady. Strangely, it was the most familiar part of town. It was dark, cold and scary, just like before.

You walked warily, looking the torn-apart buildings 'from head to toe’. Most of them were locked up, or too damaged to even enter, but a particular building caught your attention. The windows were sealed, but the door had a chain that had been broken. You approached it and carefully removed the chain. The metal door creaked against the floor and made an ugly noise. You closed it just as slowly and carefully inspected the bottom floor with the poor flashlight you had found in a hardware store.

It was clean.

You moved upwards, and all of the floors were clear of corpses. A sense happiness and relief washed over you, as you might had just found a place to stick around in.

As you reached the floor just below the rooftop, your eyes glistened and your face lit up.

A mattress with a couple of blankets laid against the wall. There were unopened cans of food organized near the window, that gave you a perfect view of the safe and unsafe areas. As you were about to inspect the food and the expire date on them, someone spoke behind you.

“Hello?”

You jumped at the voice. You spun around quickly and held the turned-off flashlight close to your chest. Your eyes were widened and you were frozen in place. The male in front of you, on the other hand, was relaxed yet confused.

He had a long dark fringe covering his eyes, and his skin was very pale.

“W-who are you?” You asked, trying your best not to stutter out the whole sentence.

The man looked at you as if you were stupid.

“I’m the person living here?... The owner of this five-star suite, actually.”

Your face fell a little at his statement and he chuckled.

“What? Did you think you had hit the jackpot and just found a perfect place waiting for you?”

You averted your gaze and blushed slightly in embarrassment at how stupid your thoughts sounded when said out loud. Neither of you said anything. You could immediately tell that there was a big contrast between your personalities: while you stood there, stiff and nervous, he was relaxed and staring at you with a mocking glare. You were a little confused as to why the male wasn’t freaking out over a random person walking in where he lived and trying to claim it. It was suspicious…

The man looked at the mattress on the floor, then at the cans.

“Wanna share?”

You were taken aback by the question. Why would he willingly share what he had? Why would he willingly spare half of the very scarce resources he possessed?

“Why?” You quietly asked.

The man understood your confusion, most people would shoo others away and refuse to even let them come close to whatever they had gathered.

He walked over to the mattress and sat down with a groan. The stranger took a very poorly joint up to his mouth and took a hit, then puffing out the smoke and creating a small cloud between the two of you. He opened his mouth to say something but was immediately cut off.

“We’re in the middle of an apocalypse and you’re getting high!?”

It wasn’t like you to stress over something so little, but the near-death experiences, the fear and all the running away had transformed you into a shell of your former self.

“It’s… It’s not an apocalypse.”

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head. How would he know what all this was anyway?

“Well it’s kinda- Can you fucking sit down or something you’re stressing me out, standing there holding that flashlight like I’m gonna try to murder you.”

The statement stole a chuckle out of you and you sat down on the floor in front of him.

“To put it shortly, this pandemic is a war gone wrong.”

There was a long silence, as he let you process the tiny bit of the puzzle he had just told you. It was understandable that you didn’t know what was going on, no one really did know but the ones that had been exposed to the government’s horrors.

“This… virus. It wasn’t someone’s carelessness or a lab security breach, it was a biological war that went to shit. A country unbeknownst to everyone apparently sent out a virus to wipe out Japan and Korea, it was speculated inside the borders that it was because of the lucrative rise and some countries were losing their economic powers over a lot of major cities. But it spiraled out of control and everyone is slowly dying. It’s much worse than anything anyone had ever seen, and in a panic, the government started doing what they call ‘recruitment of the younger generation’. Don’t let the name fool you, we were taken against our will…”

“We? You were there?”

Jongho sighed, his voice dropped considerably and suddenly the weed tasted odd. He threw away the joint and rested his head against the wall. Guilt and shame filled his body, and he wasn’t able to look you in the eye as he explained what went on in the place he had been confined in.

“I was… taken. From the house I was in. They take only young people who are healthy and capable. No disabilities inside those walls, only the ones they deem good enough to procreate and rebuild our country. We… We are forced to work, they do tests on us, they treat us like lab rats and the boys… The boys are forced to impregnate girls.” His voice cracked at that, clearly hitting a deep scar. His chest began to rise and fall quickly.

You became suddenly sad and worried for the stranger. Your face contorted in a pitiful look and you approached him, patting his thigh for him to know he had your support.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to tell any more…”

The male glanced at the joint he had thrown away and regretted doing so. He really wished he had something that made the conversation easier.

“No, the more people know, the easier it will be to destroy this whole shit. Letting the world die is better than what they’re doing to us. I was… forced to make girls pregnant. I- I don’t even know their names. I don’t even know who they are, they push you into a room and they watch you, to make sure you do things right. When people refuse to do so, there’s a punishment. But I was always too scared of it so I just followed the rules. In a couple of months I’ll have… I’ll have a children in there. A son, who knows maybe a daughter… And they’ll be forced to do exactly what I ran away from. Fuck I’m a monster!”

The male hit his head against the wall, hard. His eyes were tightly shut (certainly not hurt from the bang against the wall, but from something much deeper) and tears threatened to fall.

The psychological side clearly was much worse than any physical work they were forced to do.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You didn’t do that because you wanted to, right? You did it because you were forced. If those kids are as smart as you surely they’ll get out too.”

He scoffed and turned his head to look at you.

“I got out because I was lucky. I was done with life, I didn’t want to be there anymore. But because the suicide rate was crazy high inside those walls everyone was always watching. I knew a guy though, he managed to pass around drugs and my plan was to overdose… But when the time came I always pussied out. As time went by and I kept consuming I became thinner, paler, weaker… I looked like I was about to die and they didn’t understand why, but at some point they stopped wanting me there, they deemed I was unfit. They cut off my food and water, they left me to die in a room. I was lucky because I passed out. They thought I was dead and threw me over the border. I woke up in a pile of dead bodies, bathing in blood, dirt, puke, and God knows what else. I could barely move, but I dragged myself out of the corpses and tried to survive the best I could.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You wanted to say something, but what was there to be said? ‘It’s going to be okay’? You both knew it was a lie… There was nothing to be said and all you could do was greet his lengthy life-story of the past couple months with silence.

“That’s why I smoke weed. Y’know… kinda takes me out and makes me forget everything’s gone to shit, drowns out the worst in my head.”

You nodded, a little uncomfortable yet understanding his position.

Luckily, Jongho who had been through Hell and come back, was great at shooing away the awkwardness.

“Now that you know about my kids, I’m Jongho by the way.”

“I-I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself, a little shocked at the way he was fine with joking about it.

“Well Y/N, buckle up. We’re in a warzone now, it’s the end of the world. There ain’t a reason you and me should be alone.”

You and Jongho sat at the top of the building. The sun was going down and you sat on his lap. His arms were around your body, holding your hands as he tried to teach you how to properly roll the thin paper.

“Y/N! We don’t have infinite weed! Stop messing this up!”

“I- Are you joking, Jongho!? You pushed this mess onto my hands because you wanted to have a reason to have me on your lap!”

You stood up (faking anger toward him) and walked up to the edge of the building, dancing and prancing around.

Jongho laughed at your cuteness and threw away the very much ruined romantic joint he tried to do with you. He walked over to you and placed his hands on your hips.

“I won’t get high tonight but at least I was happy.”

You looked at him, surprised at the sweet comment. The sunlight gave his skin a golden tone and the slight wind blew his hair back. He smiled at the big eyes you were giving him, and chuckled upon realizing how little it had taken to make you speechless.

“What?” He asked, as you wouldn’t stop staring.

You giggled and placed your hands on his biceps, subconsciously playing with them.

“Nothing it’s just… I didn’t know you could be cute.”

Jongho faked a shocked expression, never breaking eye contact.

“Excuse me! I can be adorable!”

You scoffed and slapped his chest.

“You’ve been cute to me like, two times.”

“Two?” He asked, not remembering what the first had been.

Your eyes drifted away and you blushed slightly.

“Well, you let me stay with you… That was really sweet, thank you.”

Jongho lifted your chin with his index finger, making you look at him.

“And I’m glad I did.”

There was a small, comfortable silence before you spoke.

“Why is that?”

You were eager for the answer. Jongho was unpredictable, you never knew what to expect of him, so you looked deep into his eyes as you awaited a response.

Jongho looked away, before looking back at you and pressing his lips against yours, for a kiss that lasted no longer than a second.

“Because I like you.”

It was incredulous. You expected him to say that, but it was so… unexpected. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off as per usual.

“And I know, I know it’s been like two weeks, but it’s hard not to fall for someone like you once you spend every second of every day with them.”

You blushed slightly and hit his chest.

“Plus, you’re one of the most beautiful women out there.” He said as he caressed your cheek lovingly.

“Jongho, who knew you could be so sweet…”

“I know, right? But then again, everyone is dying and there’s like, a dozen women out there so you don’t have much competition.”

You two laughed, and before you could hit him, Jongho ran away and ran downstairs. Once you found him, you tackled him onto the mattress, but of course he won over you, and began tickling you all over. He’d only stop when you begged and were almost crying.

You looked into each other’s eyes. The dim light coming from the windows setting a lewd mood. Once you had regained your breath, you grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. The kiss lasted a little longer than the previous one, slightly losing its innocence.

You had never gone beyond kissing with anybody, so you were surprised at yourself when you deepened the kiss and rolled your hips against his, you didn’t hate it however. You wanted to continue. The world was ending and you were making out with the hottest man you’d ever been with on a mattress, so if there was a perfect timing, that was it.

You moaned onto the kiss, signaling that you wanted more, but Jongho pulled away rapidly and looked away, a little embarrassed.

“Jongho? Did I do something wrong I-I’m sorry I had never done that before and I-”

“You were fine Y/N, don’t worry… It’s just that. Those things I did… Those girls, it wasn’t that long ago. I don’t think I’m comfortable, I’m sorry, love.”

You felt bad for making him feel like he had to apologize for his feelings. You started to panic, but you had to calm yourself down in order to make Jongho feel comfortable.

You placed a hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead.

“It’s okay Jongho, I don’t mind waiting. I’ll wait for you a million years, even when we’re both old and looking like raisins, I promise I’ll still want you.”

The male giggled, showing the gummy smile you loved oh so much, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I got so lucky… You’re all I need.”

You woke up with Jongho shaking you and calling for your name. You immediately shot awake and sat on the mattress you called a bed.

Your boyfriend threw his heavy mask onto a corner, grabbed both of your cheeks and kissed you passionately. His eyes were teary and puffy. His whole face was red and his coal-coloured hair was stuck to his forehead. You furrowed at the way his hands were shaking as he held you.

“Jongho?” You asked, a little nervous.

“Yes, darling?” He questioned.

His voice was as shaky as his hands, and anxiety started building up in the pit of his stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

His jittery eyes took in all of your features before smiling nervously.

“Nothing baby!”

He kissed your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and finished up with a long kiss on your lips.

Suddenly, the ground shook. Once, twice… Jongho tried to block the window with his broad back, but you could still see the shiny, shooting star-like object coming down from the sky and colliding with the ground. A loud sound echoed in the air and the ground shook once more before you saw a mushroom-like explosion in the distance.

You couldn’t hold back the tears as panic immediately enveloped you.

“J-Jongho what- what’s going on!?” You asked, your voice rising for the first time in months.

Your boyfriend looked at you with teary eyes and held your face in a way that you couldn’t look at the window.

“Nothing, doll. Everything is fine, we’re gonna be okay.”

Jongho hugged you tightly. You quickly wrapped your arms around him and held him as close as possible, as your brain put two and two together.

The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes.

“I love you.” He whispered.

And, before you could reply, he pressed his lips to yours, in what you both knew to be your last kiss. So you didn’t pull away. And when the sky fell down, and when the blasting got closer to you, you still didn’t pull away.

And so when everything went black, neither of you noticed, because your eyes were still closed, and you were still holding each other as if the world wasn’t ending, and you were the only thins that mattered to each other.

Your forever wasn’t long, but as you held each other and tears streamed down your faces, you knew that it had been a good forever.

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curiousconch · 3 years

Text

Sobering Truth

Chapter 10 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: After the fallout of Rafael and Heather, what could this mean to Bryce and the recovering doctor?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.1k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / hints of past violent experience and sex

Author's Notes: Almost is Never Enough by Ariana Grande and Nathan Skyes was the perfect song for this chapter, the lyrics are very fitting. Also, watch out for a cameo from a PM character 😊

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Bryce found himself hunched alone in a bar stool downtown Boston. He swirled the brown liquid in his glass, brows furrowed in remembering the scene in the hospital room.

His face contorted with the pain piercing through his chest, the possibility of losing Heather once again sinking like a sword. He racked his mind for an option, but it seems all is lost in that battle.

He thought back to their last outing together, and he was so certain that something was there. So why did she choose to stay with someone else instead of being with him?

His lips formed a thin line, his hand rubbing over his face in frustration. The emotions within turbulent and unnerving. Was he just too much of a fool when he thought he had a shot with her?

This is exactly why Bryce Lahela didn't want to commit. It was far more easier for him to seek momentary connections rather than build permanent ones. He didn't want to relive the rejections-filled past from his adolescence, at the time of his parents' criminal convictions.

Yet here he was again, suffering the same consequences of wanting something permanent in his life. Something that could bring him happiness. Something better than him being alone in the middle of a crowd of drunken patrons.

He should've stayed in his own lane of hook-ups and one night stands instead of chasing for this relationship.

So the first thing he did when he realized that that door is closing, was to go back to his old stomping grounds.

But why can't he will himself to look around?

As if on queue, an olive-skinned woman slid herself beside him, her sudden presence invading his thoughts. With a half-smirk and green catty eyes, the coils of dark hair loosely wrapping her head. The mere sight of her was mesmerizing.

"I know you," she said, almost in a purr.

Bryce looked back at her, and a long-forgotten heat warmed him up. And it wasn't because of the alcohol in his system.

"I guess my reputation is my charm," he replied, leaning forward. He loosened his tie whilst sipping from his glass.

"Oh I know all about your reputation," her voice made him shiver, her fingers ever slowly trailing a path towards his arm. "You're the one with magic hands," she whispered, her brows dancing as she spoke.

This commanding woman was pushing his buttons in all the right places, her sparkly black cocktail dress that clung on her body tightly wasn't making him feel suddenly parched.

Her hand continued to venture up his arm, and eventually the side of his neck. As it followed the line of his jaw, Bryce couldn't help but lean closer.

Nothing was stopping him at the moment.

Miles away from being sober, his lips blew a short burst of air into the woman's bare neck, after which he got the chance to breathe in a whiff of her perfume.

The jasmine scent was all too familiar. It conjured the image of the woman who Bryce fled away from tonight.

Heather.

Snapping out of the trance, he took a step back. Gone was the sexual tension that floated in the air mere seconds ago. Bryce only shook his head to the woman and paid his tab, before almost sprinting out into the cold rain that continued to flood the concrete pavement.

He let the drops of water wash all over him until he was soaked. With it, the inevitable tears began to fall, which he didn't hold back. He also didn't mind how it easily reduced the numbing effect of the bottle of Jack Daniels that he just consumed.

Like a thief in the night, the woman of his dreams snatched what was left of Bryce's vulnerable heart. He knew, deep down, that it would take a long time before he can get it back.

***

"Breaking news. Declan Nash and Jordan Anderson pleads guilty as co-conspirators of the kidnapping of Senator Ed Farrugia and Edenbrook doctor Heather Song."

"This is following an intensive investigation by the joint special task force created as the public clamored to protect Massachusetts famed senator.

"We are joined today by one of the victims, Senator Ed Farrugia, after he gave his testimony today at the Boston courthouse."

The video flicked from a female news anchor to the steps of the city's courthouse, where the politician was joined by Chief DA Tanaka. Heather's hazel eyes however wasn't on the prominent people in the screen, but instead drawn to the tall figure standing beside the older man, his intimidating stature made more pronounced by the sharp gray suit that contoured just enough to please.

Bryce.

Saying his name, even in her mind, made her involuntarily shudder with regret, aware that between them was an undeniable attraction that she just couldn't shake off. Ever since her kidnapping, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about what could've been. Was it just too late for them? Will it only remain a connection that can never be explored? Will it ever be something more? She knew, deep down, if she could change the world overnight, she wanted to try. If there was anything she could learn from her almost dying, it was the sobering truth that life was too short to be restrained by inaction.

But she hadn't been able to speak to him for a while now. He didn't answer his phone nor returned any of her texts or messages. She hoped to get the chance when she was scheduled for her recorded testimony. To her dismay, another ADA visited her and took her witness account.

She thought he was just busy with the case, but she sensed that he was avoiding her altogether. Her free time provided her so many hours to rack her brain for the reason why. To this day, that question was left unanswered.

Danny raised his gaze to Heather, as he felt her pulse beat faster than normal. He turned to the TV monitor in the hospital room, stifling a chuckle as he found the reason behind her palpitations.

"Let's try to do this again," Danny said, making Heather's attention swivel to him.

"Why? Something wrong?" she asked, obviously confused.

This time, Danny snickered, grabbing the remote from her and switched the channel. The gesture was enough to make her fluster as it dawned on her what the nurse was insinuating.

"I can't put your last BPM on your chart, Heather. We dont want Dr. Ramsey to not sign off on your discharge papers today. Two weeks of him pestering us is enough torture to last a lifetime," he scoffed jokingly, referencing how the senior attending relentlessly chased the hospital staff to put her case on priority.

She curtly nodded, her mentor's crass actions embarrassing her further.

"Thanks, Danny." she sheepishly smiled, hoping the two words were enough to express her appreciation of how the hospital helped her get back on her feet during the roughest period of her life yet.

Danny returned her gesture, before getting back to taking her pulse. Satisfied, he recorded it to the clipboard in his hand, as her friends thundered into the room.

Sienna, Elijah, Jackie and Aurora all stepped inside, each carrying an assortment of food items. They moved their Sunday brunch to that day in celebration of Heather's discharge. The welcome noise warmed her heart, their usual banter flowing like music to her ears.

The thundering of her deep-seated emotions momentarily toned down, as she enjoyed the company of the small family she found in Edenbrook.

Outside, the weather was warm with no clouds threatening to dampen the surroundings.

It was going to be a good day.

***

As the last of the questions were addressed and the cameras were turned away, Bryce sighed in relief.

With the news crews dispersed, Chief Tanaka left to head back to the DA's office, leaving him as second chair to wrap up all the remaining paperwork. He strutted into the courthouse, the ADA facade well in effect.

It was an understatement to say that the past few weeks were hectic.

Interviewing Declan Nash and Jordan Anderson was like being pulled into opposite poles. Their personalities were so polarizingly different that Bryce suspected that there was a more to the case than what appears.

So he advised the special task force to dig into that angle. The FBI's investigation is still ongoing, and he is betting against it finishing soon.

Today was a day of accomplishments, and Bryce's mood was better than it was ever since that night. Or so he thought.

As his mind shifted back into the present, he caught the unwelcome sight of Agent Rafael Aveiro conversing with someone in the hallways. He managed to hear a glimpse of the conversation as they got into earshot.

"You're background would be invaluable to us, Agent Rafael," the strange man in the tweed-colored jacket said.

"This is such a timely offer that I couldn't refuse. I'll let you know as soon as I wrap up my last case." Bryce heard Raf say.

"Of course. But please don't keep us in the Interpol on our toes, Agent."

"Of course, Agent Nazario."

Taken aback, he stopped, trying to understand what had just transpired. Why was Rafael taking a job with the interpol?

Once Bryce saw that the special investigator was alone, he approached him, words blazing.

"Interpol? Seriously, Raf, this soon?"

Raf turned to face him, surprised at Bryce's sudden interjection.

"I don't see the need to explain myself to you, ADA Lahela." He politely said as he begun to walk away.

"But you just got back together! Why leave for an overseas job this soon when she needs you the most?" Bryce's voice rose, echoing into the nearly full hallway. He honestly didn't mind, weeks worth of bottled up frustration threatening to surface.

A more puzzled expression filled Rafael's face, the line of interrogation making him turn around and stare back at the prosecutor.

Rafael recognized the look on Bryce's face. It was a mirror of his own haunted reflection. Of a lost love, never to return. The confusion gave way to understanding.

It made him soften his stance, and place a brotherly hand on the lawyer's shoulder.

"Look, I don't know why you think that, but Heather and I..." he paused, taking a deep breath as he tried to bury the painful memory of their goodbye into the back of his mind. "We broke up. The same night that she was admitted to Edenbrook after her kidnapping, we talked and agreed to go our separate ways."

Bryce couldn't believe what he was hearing, his knees weakening with the revelation. Amber eyes widened in shock and feeling like an idiot at the same time.

He smiled despite himself, the nightmares of his imaginary rejection transformed into a wonderful dream. The door that he thought was closed is now unlocking, and he was determined to blow it wide open.

With a hasty thank you and goodbye to Raf, he turned the soles of his leather shoes and raced to the door of the courthouse.

Bryce didn't dare waste another minute to look back.

Tags: @ramsey-lahela @eleanorbloom @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #rafael aveiro #bryce lahela #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #rafael aveiro x mc #bryce lahela x mc #choices fic writers creations #choices fanfiction #open heart 2 #choices #pixelberry #fics of the week

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spooks-and-tea · 4 years

Text

Angel (Spencer Reid fem!Reader)

Word count: 3,781

Warnings: The usual Criminal Minds stuff, violence

Summary: You’re not sure where you are or what is happening, but you are sure that you’re being saved by an angel.

You’re an actress. An actress in a movie. This is all fiction, written and directed by Hollywood elites. This is your part to play. You aren’t really in agonizing pain. The leaves and rocks scratching the bottoms of your feet is actually grass and yellow daffodils. You aren’t in a dark, forested place, you’re in a bright, open field. You’re crying for the camera. This isn’t real.

Keep walking. Just keep walking forward.

You’re not sure why, but you’re walking towards bright lights.

Maybe they are camera lights?

They’re moving like the beam of a lighthouse, bringing you out of your dream.

This is your big moment, the final act.

You fall to the ground. The soft grass becomes rocks and twigs. They scratch your palms and you roll over onto your back.

The sunlit field go dark; large, old trees grow around you as your body grows heavier. There’s pain; you’re in so much pain. You’re confused, scared, and you’ve never felt so alone.

Except you’re not alone. The beams of light are real, voices are echoing through the trees.

A gust of wind sweeps through the canopy of branches and leaves float through the air, onto you. You’ve never noticed how pretty a leaf gliding on the wind could be; it’s a delicate dance, like a ballet in nature. Maybe, if you close your eyes, you’ll be able to drift into the wind with them. Maybe you can just float away from the pain.

“Y/N!”

The voices are louder now. Are they real?

“Y/N!”

It’s one voice that’s louder than the rest. How does it know your name? Why does it sound as sweet as wind chimes dipped in caramel? Is it an angel?

You try to lift your head to look, but your body is too heavy. You watch the lights illuminating the trees, one light is so close to you. You smile slightly at the light, but you’re not sure why it brings you joy.

Show me how to drift away, angel.

“Y/N!”

The voice is so loud now, it drowns out all the rest. You feel the need to answer the angel.

“I-I’m here. I’m here.” Your voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to you; it’s hoarse and scratchy.

Why does my throat hurt so much?

“Wait, I think I heard something!” The same voice yells. It’s so loud now, you swear it’s just behind you.

“I’m here. I’m- I’m here,” you try one last time. Your voice gives out as the last syllable leaves your mouth.

Your vision is starting to blur as the light beam grows larger and larger, until it’s shining directly in your face. You close your eyes in pain.

“I’ve found her! She’s over here!” The angel yells. You hear the leaves crunch violently next to you.

“Y/N. Y/N stay awake for me, alright? Just- just stay awake a little longer. Help is coming.”

You open your eyes at your angel’s soft voice.

He’s beautiful. You can practically see a golden aura around him. His eyes are searching yours and they hold so much warmth. You want to trace the curve of his cheekbones and run your fingers through his curls just to make sure he’s tangible.

That must be my guardian angel.

Having him near you gives you just enough strength to drag your hand to his. He looks down as you weakly thread your fingers through his. You don’t want to let go of him in fear that you’ll be alone again. You want to hold on to the angel.

He looks back up at you and covers your joined hands with his free hand. You’re shivering, but he’s so warm. As long as you’re near him, somehow you know he’ll keep you safe.

“You’re safe now, I promise.”

In your peripheral vision, you see more lights nearing you, but you pay little mind to them in favor of drowning in the warmth of your angel’s eyes.

“My guardian angel,” you whisper. You look at him with all the love left in your damaged heart.

You want to listen to your angel when he tells you to stay awake, but your eyelids are growing too heavy. Without warning, you lose consciousness.

Your dreams are empty, and maybe that’s a good thing. You’re sure when you slowly open your eyes to a blinding white light that you’re dead. The image clears and reveals a white room. A machine beeps next to you. Your mouth has never felt so dry and your whole body is stiff.

There’s a blonde woman next to you, you think she’s pretty, but she’s not your angel.

“Where-“ your voice cracks and the woman’s eyes widen as she sees you’re awake.

“Here, sweetheart.” She has a motherly voice that only comforts you half as much as your angel’s voice.

She holds up a cup with a straw to your mouth and you take small sips, your throat feels tight as you swallow.

“My name is JJ. I’m an FBI agent. We talked on the phone once, do you remember?” She asks as she sets the empty cup down.

You wince as you try to remember, a deep pain throbs in your brain. You shake your head, starting to feel panicked at the situation. You’re not dead, you’re still living in this hell.

“Are the painkillers starting to wear off? I can call a nurse in.” JJ speaks.

You shake your head again, eyes darting around the room for him.

“Where’s my angel? I-I want my angel.” Your voice sounds as panicked as you feel.

JJ frowns.

“Sweetheart I don’t know who your angel is, can you give me a description, so I can find them?”

Her words calm you down just enough to regulate the beeping of the machine next to you.

“He found me. I was about to give up and he held me and made me feel safe. I want my angel. Please. I want to feel safe.” You plead.

“Did he have an FBI vest?”

You think for a moment and nod.

“Did he have curly brown hair?”

“Yes. Please, I want my angel here.” You whisper.

A tear slides down your cheek. JJ’s eyes follow it.

“Listen Y/N. I know who your angel is and I can bring him here, but I need to know that you can cooperate with us when I do. We need to ask you some questions that you might not be comfortable with so we can catch the man who did this to you before he hurts someone else.”

“I’ll do anything, just give me my angel, please.” You don’t have to think twice before agreeing.

“Okay, just give me 5 minutes, he’s not far. Will you be okay alone here for 5 minutes?”

“Yes.” You calm your breathing even more knowing he’s close.

JJ leaves, giving you a strange look.

You study the bleak, white room you’re in. There’s a small tv in the corner and you’re sure this is a hospital. The sickeningly medicinal smell is something that’s hard to place anywhere else. An IV is hooked between you and a machine. You’re sure the beeping is going to drive you crazy if it doesn’t stop soon. The pain in your head is beginning to throb again and it’s spreading to your stiff limbs.

You move your toes, trying to stretch your muscles. A sharp pain pricks the soles and it comes back to you. The forest. The rocks. Snapping twigs. Cracking leaves. Your breathing goes heavy; it feels so real. You’re there again, in the forest. Where’s your angel? You need him.

“No, no, no.”

Tears are welling up as you try to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your arms are weak, the stiff muscles shake in protest. The beeping of the machine quickens.

“Y/N.”

All it takes is one word from him to snap you out of your memory. Your chest heaves as you watch him walk through the door, closing it behind him. He walks slowly towards you, careful to not scare you, but he could never scare you. He was the safest thing you knew.

“Do you want to sit up more? I can help you.” His words are gentle.

You nod ‘yes,’ unable to form words.

His touch is just as gentle and as warm as you remember as he holds your arm and supports your back. It gives you the strength you need to sit up further.

“There. Are you comfortable?”

You nod again, looking only at him.

He takes JJ’s chair and settles in next to you. You reach out your hand and he looks down at it. He hesitates, but slides his fingers through yours. You take a deep breath, finally feeling safe.

He waits until you’re comfortable enough to speak.

“Why am I still here?”

He frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you take me? Why couldn’t you have just let me die? Everything hurts me here.” You speak, searching his eyes.

He looks taken aback, his mouth opens and closes as he tries to form words.

“I-I”

“You’re my guardian angel. You’re supposed to protect me.”

His eyes soften in understanding.

“Y/N, I’m not-“

He stops himself when he sees your dried tears that stain your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” He says, standing up.

You clasp his hand for dear life.

“Where are you going? Please stay.”

Spencer would never say he stayed because of the desperation in your voice. He wouldn’t admit that he felt something ache in his chest at the beautiful, broken girl in front of him.

After a month of grueling over this case, a month of being teased by an unsub at the BAU’s failure to locate you, a month of staring at your picture and apologizing before finding sleep. He made a promise to protect you and he knew he had to be the one to find you.

He knew all of this culminated in your mind, in an effort to protect yourself from the pain, as a dream. You made a safe world to live in where he was your guardian angel.

He can’t destroy your dream, not yet.

So Spencer stays. He holds your hand without a passing thought of the germs exchanged. He needs to be strong for you.

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

You visibly relax and give his hand a squeeze. You look at him with so much adoration, it makes his chest ache more. You’re waiting for an answer, he knows he has to choose his words carefully.

“You’re strong, you know. You can pull through this.”

You give him a sad look. He has to look down at your intertwined hands to catch his breath.

“Will you help me?”

It’s a loaded question. He wants to help you, but he isn’t the kind of doctor you need. There are boundaries he can’t cross as this is an active case and his previous relationship to you is already making Hotch question if he should be involved.

You’re a victim, you’re suffering and see him as your hero. He doesn’t want to take advantage of your state as some sort of sick savior complex. You have no clue who he is, no memory of him. It pains him, but he has to bring those memories back if they are going to catch this unsub. He’s no angel, and the moment you realize that will be the moment you really break down.

“I’m right here, but in order for me to stay, I’m going to need you to remember some things that are going to hurt you. I-I also don’t want you to call me your angel anymore, okay? Call me Spencer.” He skips the formalities. Calling him doctor would only make you more uneasy; he has to be careful.

Spencer. It sounds right.

“Okay, Spencer.” You swallow your nerves.

“Do you remember how you got here?” Your angel, Spencer, asks.

There is no going back to your safe place now.

“You found me in a forest. You saved me.”

“Can you tell me in more detail?”

You nod.

“I was walking in a forest, I-I didn’t have a destination. I just knew I had to walk straight until I couldn’t anymore. I fell and my body was-it was so heavy, I couldn’t move. I saw lights and I heard you calling my name. I knew immediately by your voice that I needed you.”

Spencer frowns at your choice of words, but nods for you to continue.

“I called out for you and you heard me. When I opened my eyes all I could see was you and this beautiful golden aura. I felt safe, finally; I wasn’t scared anymore. Then I passed out and woke up here.” You finish. Your brain is starting to register the pain in your soles again.

“My feet, they’re scratched up, aren’t they?” For the first time, you start to study your injured body.

“They are. You didn’t have shoes when I found you. You were also wearing a torn dress, it was torn before you were in the forest. Do you remember how it got like that?”

You squint at a deep purple bruise on your arm. It starts to throb.

“No. I’m sorry.” You want to give him the answers, but something in your mind is making the gap of missing time hazy.

“That’s okay. You’re doing great.”

“Before the forest, what is the last thing you remember?”

This one takes some thought. There has to be a specific point in time that you can place, but your sense of time is muddled. There’s a scene, however, a recurring scene playing in your head and you aren’t sure if it is entirely made up.

You close your eyes to coax out the memory.

“I think- I see something. I see you, I think. You’re on a screen and you’re angry. I-I don’t want you to be angry, but I’m angry too. I can’t make out what you’re saying.” You frown.

“Are you outside?”

“Yes, I see pavement moving under the screen. I’m holding a cellphone. I’m walking in the dark.”

“Look around, is there anyone around you? Do you hear footsteps? Are there any smells that stick out to you?”

“I can’t hear anything. It’s like I’m watching a silent film. I think I smell something, though. It’s strong. Cigar ash. My dad used to smoke them, it has to be that.”

“Follow that smell, where is it coming from?”

You turn your head slightly.

“There’s an alleyway. I’ve just passed it, but there’s a cloud of smoke coming out of it.” You scrunch your nose and clasp his hand tighter to ground yourself. You distantly feel his thumb drawing figure 8’s.

“I don’t understand. Why are you there? Is it real? Did this happen?�� You ask.

“It’s real.”

“I feel someone behind me. I’m watching you on the screen, but someone grabs me. I drop the phone. Their hand is over my mouth.” You reach your free hand up to touch your lips.

“Can you see who’s grabbed you?”

Your mind doesn’t register the question.

“I think I’m trying to scream. I’m trying to reach for the phone.” You move your hand down to your neck.

“Y/N can you see the person that grabbed you?” He tries again.

“They hold my neck and throw me into the trunk of a car. I look up. It’s a man. He’s pale, with jet black hair that reaches past his ears. He has a long beard. There’s a blue sparrow tattoo here.” You point to the left side of your neck.

“He closes the trunk and everything’s dark... Spencer.” You frown as the name comes to you.

“Do you remember what happened after that?”

“No.” You open your eyes, squinting at the brightness of the room.

Spencer looks gutted. He can’t meet your eyes.

“Spencer. Were you there when the man grabbed me?” You ask. You’re so confused.

“No, but I should have been there. It happened a bit differently than you remember. You called me that night while you were walking home; do you remember that?”

You think for a moment, trying to picture the memory he’s painting.

“I remember,” you whisper.

“It was just a phone call, I couldn’t see you and you couldn’t see me.”

You nod, following his words. You watch his freehand grip the hospital bed sheets.

“We were fighting, but I-I’ve never met you... before the forest. I don’t understand.”

Spencer shakes his head.

“Y/N. You know me. You made me an angel in your head to cope with your trauma. Look at me.” He gently reaches out and places his palm on your jaw. You inhale, sharply, and look at him.

“You know me.”

Your eyes widen as the haze in your brain clears just enough to reveal the parts he wants you to see.

“Spencer.” The way you say his name is different now. There’s pain there.

“You found me. I was taken, but you found me.”

Spencer bit his lip.

“I did. I’m sorry I took so long.”

“How long has it been?”

“1 month and 3 days.”

You gasp. All that time, lost. How could you forget?

“Y/N I need to call Emily and give her your description of the man who took you. Do you remember anything else about him? Where he took you?”

You shake your head. Different areas of your body are starting to hurt now.

You half listen to Spencer as he makes the phone call. You’re trying so hard to remember things, but it’s making the pain worse.

Spencer stands and moves near the door, saying something so quietly, you can’t hear. For a moment you’re afraid he’s going to leave. The heart rate monitor, you realize, is speeding up. Spencer hears it and looks over his shoulder. Your eyes are pleading with him, saying the words you don’t need to speak. He walks back toward you and finishes the call. The beeping of the machine regulates again.

“I’m staying with you tonight. Is that okay?” He doesn’t need to ask. Your heart beat answers him well enough.

“Yes.”

“Emily sends her love.”

“Emily.” You test the name, but frown when it doesn’t ring a bell.

“You’ll remember everything eventually, don’t worry.”

“I’m not sure if I want to remember everything.”

Spencer nods and looks at his hands in his lap.

“I love you.” You state the words as fact.

You remember loving the man next to you. He was your boyfriend, your partner, whatever you wanted to call it, you never labeled it. It made sense that he was an angel in your dreams.

Even though you know he’s very much human now, he still has a golden aura in your eyes.

“You would say that.” Spencer smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Why were we fighting that night?”

His smile falls.

“It was my fault. We were supposed to go out together that night, but a case came up at the last minute. You were angry, rightfully so. I was tired, I’d just finished a case and I didn’t have a chance to even go home before another one came in. You were waiting for me at my apartment and I called you to tell you I wouldn’t be able to make it. You left and we argued. I um....I said some things that I didn’t mean and it hurt you. You were breaking up with me when the unsub grabbed you. The last words I said to you, when I realized, was that I would find you.”

You take in his explanation, not noticing the tears beginning to fall. Guilt was laced with every word.

“It was my fault you were out that night. I’m the reason this happened to you. I should have been there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Spencer. You’re the reason I’m still alive. I should be lying dead in a forest, but I’m not.”

“I’m sorry, for everything. I’m sorry I wasn’t there that night. I’m sorry I always put work before you. I’m sorry I made you question that I love you. I’m sorry it took so long to find you.”

“Spencer.” You reach out to him and he moves closer. You pull him to you and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands hesitate on your waist before he’s pulling you closer.

“I forgive you; for everything. I don’t want you to feel guilty,” you say, and he falls apart in your arms.

He can’t let it go, for 1 month and 3 days he blamed himself; he worked himself to death to find you. Spencer sobs apologies and you forgive him for each one. He’s heavy in your arms, and your side is beginning to hurt, it’s almost excruciating.

Eventually he calms down, he pulls away and his eyes are rimmed red. He sees you wince and immediately goes into protective mode.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s fine. I think the pain meds are just wearing off.”

“I’ll go get a nurse.”

“Okay, but promise you’ll come back?”

“I promise.”

You watch him move and it’s so familiar. It’s the one sure thing your memory serves you.

When he returns he’s talking medicine with the nurse. You want to ask her about your condition because it’s starting to feel like you have broken ribs, but Spencer is holding your hand again in the next second and you’re not sure if he knows, but you don’t want him to.

The nurse fills the IV and you wait with baited breath for the medicine to kick in. She leaves with a smile and you turn to Spencer. He sees you fidgeting as you try to get comfortable. He reaches out to hold you, but his hands hover; he’s afraid to touch you. He opts for holding your hand.

The medicine is starting to work and your body is growing delightfully numb. It makes you giggle. This stuff is strong.

“This stuff is great. No more pain.” You comment.

“Yeah, they’ll give you morphine for a few days and eventually substitute it for something less strong.”

You nod and pull the blankets higher. You’re finally comfortable as you watch Spencer who’s looking back at you.

“You’re still my guardian angel, Spencer.” You whisper.

He raises your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“Sleep. I’ll be here to keep you safe. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Your heart is warm and you smile as you fall into a restful sleep. Maybe tomorrow you would remember the horrors of what you went through, but tonight, with Spencer by your side, you’re comfortable and safe.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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mafia-nct · 4 years

Text

Fool (Taeyong Mafia AU) (Drabble Challenge)

#19 (You’re Satan), #25 (I swear I’m not crazy!), #34 (You work for me, you are my slave), #44 (You need to see a doctor), #80 (Does he know about the baby) with Taeyong

Genre: mafia au!, angst

Warning: swearing, violence.

Part 2

---

Taeyong and you have been going at each other’s throat since the morning. Actually, you’ve been going at it for quite some time now. No one really knew why, it even shocked some members to witness Taeyong scream at you. He never did, he usually was a softie when it came to you. But for some reason, he was on edge and he snapped at you. Which made you snap at him, it was a vicious wheel and you didn’t know how to stop it. And being his secretary only added to the problem.

“I don’t care Taeyong, I’m not doing that!” You yelled

“I gave you an order, do it!” he screamed back

“You can’t force me to do anything!”

Taeyong got up, slapping his hands on his desk. “You work for me, you are my slave.”

You took a step back, taken aback by his words. He looked at you with the darkest look in his eyes. You thought this relationship was based on trust and equality. Maybe it was only the anger in both of you or, maybe, you were simply wrong.

You grabbed the doorknob. “You know what Taeyong, fuck you! You’re Satan!”

You got out of his office slaming the door in the process. You didn’t know what was going on with him. You wanted to talk to him, understand what was going on but every time you tried he would shut you out or he would scream at you. He was seeing red and there was no talking when Taeyong was seeing red. Leaving was your best option. Leaving until both of you calmed down, leaving until he came back to his senses, leaving until he realized he fucked up.

You grabbed your coat and your purse from your office. You didn’t waste anytime, calling your sister asking for her help.

“Hey girly what’s up?” she said answering her phone.

“I need a place to stay for awhile, can I crash at yours?”

Making your way to the garage, you got your car keys out. She went silent on the other side of the line.

“What happened?” she asked annoyance in her voice

“Nothing bad, I just need to cool down for a couple of days. Can you meet me at Taeyong’s?”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

The drive back to your shared place was quick. You parked the car in the underground garage and then waited for your sister in the lobby.

“You better tell me what he did and now?” she exclaimed when she walked in the apartment complex.

You took her hand and dragged her to the elevator. It’s only when the doors closed, and you were in the privacy of the metal caged, that you told her. You explained how you noticed he’s been on edge for a week now. How he would snap at you for no reason and how he hasn’t let you touch him in a week. And you told her the words he said to you in his office. You missed him, you missed the guy you fell in love with. Taeyong would never leave you wondering, when something was bothering him he usually would tell you and your relationship grew stronger.

“I swear I’m not crazy,” you said, “but I feel like I’m overreacting and that all of this is my fault!”

Your sister shook her head violently. “No, no, no, no, it is not your fault, if he wants to act like an idiot and lose the most wonderful woman on this planet in the process. Then let him!”

You smiled and hugged her. “Thank you.”

She pulled away, grabbed your keys and got out of the elevator. “Let’s grab your things sis.”

She opened the door and both of you went directly to your bedroom. You sat on the floor of your walk-in closet, folding clothes and putting them in the biggest bag you could find.

“Hey Y/N,” started your sister, “does Taeyong know about the baby?”

You stopped folding the shirt in your hands. “No, I wanted to surprise him on Father’s Day.”

Your sister grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Also,” you added, “I kind of feel like I’m not really pregnant. Like all of this is a joke.”

“Well, you need to see a doctor if you want to be sure. We could go tomorrow if you want?”

“The thing is I’m sure, but I’m also not and you know what, wait here!”

You got up and went to your bed. You crouched down in front of it and searched for a box under tit. Once you got the box, you went back to your sister and handed it to her.

“Open it.” You said to her and she did.

Inside of it was, at least, ten pregnancy tests all of them showing two lines. Which meant one thing, pregnant.

“Forget the doctor, you are without a doubt pregnant!” she laughed.

You laughed at her comment and finished filling your bag.

“You know, before leaving you should at least tell him. It might make him realized he’s fool quicker.”

You nodded, she was right. You put the bag on your shoulder, grabbed something from the drawer of your bedside table and went to the kitchen. Your sister following you, the box of pregnancy tests still in her hands.

You grabbed a paper and a pen that were lying around. You took the box from your sister and placed it on the counter. Next to it, you placed the object that you’ve been keeping in your bedside table and you wrote something on the paper.

Once you were done, you looked at your sister. “Let’s go!”

And you left the apartment. It wasn’t the surprise you wanted to give Taeyong but it’ll have to do.

On the kitchen counter there was: the box of tests, a paper that read: “Happy Father’s Day” and a pacifier that you’d hope would be your child’s first one.

#nct mafia au #NCT 127 #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct drabbles #nct imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #taeyong reaction #taeyong drabbles #lee taeyong

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dweetwise · 4 years

Note

I feel like Doctor/Hillbilly is so niche but I really love the ship atm, may I rq some hcs of them mayb? 😔💕

[oo this is a rarepair if i’ve ever sen one! hope you like because i definitely got carried away!]

getting together fluff, some nsfw mentions at the end!

Herman X Max headcanons

Max has always admired the more authoritative killers, like Evan and Herman, while Herman has always mostly ignored Max. Herman is kind of a snob in that he values intelligence above all else, and just brushed Max off as an uneducated, well, hillbilly

Max isn’t stupid and is desperate to prove himself to Herman. This causes him to awkwardly approach the older man and request that he “Show Max how to make ‘em gennies sparkle an’ go boom”

Herman raises an eyebrow. The kid wants to learn how to overcharge a generator? It’s not an easy task and took Herman several weeks to perfect. Herman promises to get back to him later, causing a disappointed Max to wander off

Herman writes a numbered step-by-step idiot-proof guide to learning the technique, even throwing in a few rough sketches of the machines in case Max doesn’t know what some of the terms mean

When he finds Max and gives him the instructions with a smug grin, Max’s whole face lights up, until he looks at the papers and his smile drops into a disappointed frown. “Is something the matter?” Herman asks, prepared to give the young man a stern lecture for questioning his hard work. “Ah well, this ‘s mighty fine of ya Her--err, sir! Thanks!” Max drawls nervously before sprinting off with the papers

Herman doesn’t see Max for the next few days and assumes the scatter-brained youth gave up on learning altogether. He’s in the middle of complaining to Philip about Max squandering all his efforts, when Philip points out a crucial fact, “You know Max can’t read, right?”, and Herman feels like smacking himself in the face for not thinking of the possibility sooner

Herman swallows his pride and ventures to Coldwind farm to teach Max his technique the old-fashioned way, expecting to find the young man moping in a corner somewhere or perhaps making stick animals or whatever it is hillbillies do

Instead, he finds Max by the generator in the shed, hunched over and tinkering with the machine with papers scattered about the entire floor. “Hiya Herman!” Max greets him enthusiastically, wiping his oily hands on his overalls

“Max, what are you doing? What are these?” Herman questions and glances at the papers

“I did it! Look!” Max exclaims and gives the generator a solid kick, short-circuiting it and causing it to spark violently. “I uhh--I couldn’t read ya book, so I look’d at tha pictures ya drew an looked inside a genny to see wha I was s’posed ta do,” Max explains, gesturing to a pile of papers next to him where he’s--Herman inhales sharply in surprise--drawn pages upon pages of mechanical diagrams of the machines, pinpointing the exact locations the kick will impact!?

Herman is at a loss for words, completely taken aback by the other man’s resourcefulness and technical skill. He sees Max looking at him nervously, clearly awaiting some sort of response from his tutor. “Excellent work, boy. Would you like to accompany me in my next generator experiment?” Herman compliments and Max goes beet red and shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Tha’ would be mighty fine, sir.” Max mumbles

Max starts spending a lot of time in Herman’s office, assisting him with any research that requires a knack for machinery. Herman often visits Max’s tool shed in the farm, where they test many of his ideas and Max tinkers with the generator to troubleshoot for or fix any failures

Herman, recognizing and impressed by Max’s potential, demands the younger learn how to read so he can further participate in the research. Max is giddy at the prospect, but after a couple of disastrous attempts Herman admits he’s a lousy teacher and bribes Sally to teach Max by offering the redhead unlimited access to his office

Max is happy and making great progress with his reading, and Herman feels a strange sort of pride for his protege. That’s why it takes him completely by surprise when one day, Max decides to kiss him out of the blue. Herman pulls the man off of him and demands answers. “Just what do you think you’re doing!?” he asks sternly. “S-sorry! ‘S just, me an’ Sally were readin’ them books a-an I thought ‘s what people do, like them fellas Heathcliff an’ Cath’rine--”

“Of course Sally has you read that fictional garbage over the anatomy books I provided,” Herman sighs and runs a hand over his face in exasperation. “’M sorry Herman, Sally said ‘s what people do when ‘ey luv some’un,” Max explains, shuffling awkwardly. “Hold on. Love? Me?” Herman asks, voice uncharacteristically breaking into an even higher octave from the shock. Of all the stupid things--

“Ya! I luv ya,” Max says without hesitation, beaming. “And you want to kiss... me,” Herman clarifies, trying to wrap his head around this sudden turn of events. “Already did. An’ I wanna kiss ya more an’ do naughty things with ya in a hayloft,” Max cheerily remarks. Herman feels his brain short-circuit from the implications coming out of his seemingly innocent apprentice’s mouth. “Come ‘un, I ain’t dumb, I know wha Evan ‘n Phil dis’pear in tha woods fer,” Max grins with a slight blush.

Herman’s always been a quick thinker, so he manages to run through all possible outcomes of this scenario in his head. It’s stupid. He should reject Max. But he can’t say that he’s not intrigued, and seeing the kid’s enthusiasm... Herman finally just shakes his head fondly and allows himself to lean into Max’s personal space. “I know you’re anything but dumb, kid. I also don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into,” he can’t suppress a dark chuckle, half expecting the younger to feel intimidated--

“Try me, pops,” Max challenges instead, grinning. “That’s it you little shit--” Herman has the time to give an idle threat before Max’s laughing mouth shuts him up with a kiss

It’s not the most healthy relationship as there’s a clear power imbalance but Herman is kind of a narcissist and gets off on it. Though he does genuinely care about Max, he’s not gentle and you’ll never hear him use the phrase “Are you sure?”

Max loves being praised both inside and outside the bedroom. Herman is stingy with his compliments, only giving them when he’s genuinely impressed, which makes them all the more special to Max

Max has a daddy kink ok I don’t make the rules. He doesn’t realize it and probably doesn’t even know what it means, but Herman is perceptive. When he takes a gander and urges Max to call him ‘daddy’ during one of their trysts he doesn’t expect it to do much of anything, but hearing his lover cry out the word and almost spill himself makes him realize it’s a control thing and now he’s very much on board

Herman tops at first, but once he sees Max’s enthusiasm and the younger learns to channel his energy, they fall into a habit of Max topping. Herman discovers himself to be a bit of a power bottom and begrudgingly admits that Max fucks better than him, making Max’s confidence soar

The other killers quickly find out about their relationship because Max can’t shut up about his adoration of Herman. They get some snide comments from the Legion brats and a blushing Amanda threatening Max to “Stop oversharing your fucking sex life or I’ll reverse beartrap your dick”, but nobody seems to really care what they do behind closed doors--with the exception of one

Evan is pissed, being somewhat of a father figure to Max and 1000% ready to bash in Herman’s skull for seemingly taking advantage of the younger, impressionable man. Max is upset a the accusations, Herman pretends to give a shit about Evan’s opinion because of Max, and eventually Philip and Sally have to get involved to calm Evan down, vouching for Herman’s non-sinister intentions and Max’s ability to make his own decisions

[i came up with max’s personality on the fly but i kind of love him now?? also i don’t know how old herman is but i always hc max as early twenties at most so have some age difference on the side]

#dbd headcanons #herman carter #max thompson jr #dbd doctor #dbd hillbilly #doctor x hillbilly #dbd #dead by daylight #request #dweetwrites

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deafeningnightcollection-things · 3 years

Text

Hidden Lives ~ Winn Schott

Chapter 2 - Unusual Meetings

Lily was awake before Alex. Stretching, she hopped off the couch and folded the extra blanket she'd been using. She moved into the kitchen to get coffee. Alex kept a large jar of it in the fridge for sake of their impromptu sleepovers. It wasn't as good as a fresh brew, but her coffee addiction didn't care about flavor this early in the morning. As Lily was putting a mug in the microwave, Alex wandered in.

"Morning, Doc." Lily had called her that once and no matter how many times Alex grumbled about it making her sound old. The name just stuck, and it wasn't uncommon to hear it thrown around by other agents as well. Though Alex got much snippier with them than with Lily.

Alex nodded as she passed. Most people wouldn't talk before their morning caffeine, but Alex refused to speak to anyone until after her morning cinnamon roll. If coffee was Lily's addiction than sugar was probably Alex's.

Ten minutes later they sat at the small breakfast table. Alex enjoying her cinnamon roll alongside a rather disgusting looking vitamin drink, and Lily washing down her steaming coffee with a stolen piece of Alex's cinnamon roll. They just sat there, munching and drinking, enjoying a quiet few minutes before they had to get ready for work.

"You really shouldn't drink that much coffee when we have training." Alex's teasing tone broke the quiet spell.

"That's today?"

Alex nodded. Lily groaned dropping her head onto the coffee table.

"We already have to train every day, why do they make us do weekly sparring too?" She indicated her recently dislodged shoulder, "I've got enough bruises to chart the Milky Way."

"Sucks for you."

At Lily's questioning gaze, Alex elaborated. "I've got a doctor's note."

"Not fair. You used to bang him, he's biased."

Alex's cheeks turned pink. "That is not...he owes me a favor," Alex spluttered trying to regain her composure.

Lily raised an eyebrow, "oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Shut up," Alex shoved her playfully. "Besides I'm going to use the free time to try to get through to Kara."

That soured the mood immediately. The gnawing guilt that has been forgotten for the nice breakfast was coming back in full force.

"I hope it works. Though if she really is as stubborn as you, you've got a real fight ahead of you." Lily tried to insert levity into her words to lighten the mood once more, but it came out a little hollow. Alex looked at her oddly, clearly taken aback by the unusual tone in her voice.

She quickly changed the subject, glancing at her watch, "I've got to run an errand for Hank. And you know he won't even take that as an excuse for tardiness." They laughed.

"Oh, that reminds me," Alex called as Lily moved into the kitchen, washing out her thermos and putting the new day's coffee in it. "What did Hank want the other day? I didn't see you for the rest of the day and then it completely slipped my mind."

She searched around for a reasonable excuse before the lie just fell out. "He was just annoyed that I wasn't at my desk. You know how he gets sometimes."

Hank's fits of strictness were not lost on his employees. Most of the time he was a reasonably tempered man, but occasionally he would just get ticked off by the smallest thing.

"I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble," Alex said worriedly, ready to rise to her friend's defense.

Lily waved her off, worried by how easy it was to lie to Alex. She didn't want to do it, it reminded her too much of Lex. He'd lied to everyone about everything just to get what he wanted. She shook the thought away, she had to get ready.

She slipped into one of Alex's smarter outfits, promising to return it, washed, the next day, and plopped her thermos into her purse.

"Good luck with Kara." She called as she slipped out the door.

———

The walk to the hacker's address wasn't too long. Nothing was very far away, especially in downtown National City. All the apartment buildings were clustered into a ten-block square. She ducked into an alley near the apartment, doing a quick recon of exit points. She patted the concealed holster that all agents were required to wear. Calmed by the security of being armed. Odds were Kara's ally would not be violent, but it didn't hurt to come prepared.

She fished one of her many badges out of her bag. It was standard protocol to have badges for other government organizations, as the DEO technically did not exist. Feeling comfortable in her cover, she tucked an NCPD badge into the breast pocket of the jacket she wore.

The apartment complex was nice, but not overly expensive. The kind of place that generally held nice law-abiding citizens. She checked her notes once more, confirming the apartment number before taking the stairs two at a time. On the third floor, she finally stopped near apartment 316.

She knocked without hesitation, mentally going over her cover story. There was a disturbance in the area—

The door opened.

He's cute.

The man who stood before her had short brown hair and a kind smile. He wore an unbuttoned cardigan over a button-up colored shirt.

"Hi, I'm Officer Clementine and we've had reports of a disturbance in the area. Can I ask you a few questions?" She pulled the badge out of her pocket and held it up for a moment.

"Of course, Officer." He opened the door wider, allowing her into the small neat apartment.

She stepped inside gratefully. "Uh, first things first. Name? For the record."

"Winn. Winn Schott." The name rang a faint bell in her head and she made a mental note to research it later. She shook his proferred hand.

"Were you here around 5 last night?" That was the most recent time she'd registered the hack in the NCPD database.

"Yes, I was catching up on some stuff for work. My boss just loves to give me more than I can handle."

Lily nodded, jotting that down on the notepad. "And do you remember anything unusual around that time?" Like a blonde cheerleader in a red cape flying around the city.

"No, Officer. It was pretty boring. Just finished work, watched Return of the Jedi, didn't hear anything weird."

"Ah, that's a good one," Lily nodded absently as she spoke taking more notes on her surroundings. Nothing in the apartment screamed 'evil serial killer' but you could never be too careful.

Winn made his voice old and raspy, "do or do not, there is no try." Chuckled awkwardly as silence stretched following his words.

Lily joined in on a whim, unsure if he was coming onto her, "use the force, young Skywalker." It seemed to be the right call and they both laughed.

The mood lightened and something warm seemed to form between them.

Lily asked a few more routine questions to disguise the real purpose of her visit.

He worked at Catco. He'd lived in the city for the last few years, etc...

Lily stood up, "well, thank you for your time, Mr. Schott."

"Winn! Please..." He trailed away clearly hoping for her name in response.

She smiled, "Lily."

The handshake was warmer this time. Their gaze met and she looked away, a pink tint to her cheeks. Be professional, she chided herself, you'll probably never see him again.

"Oh, uh." Winn called as she reached the door, "how do I get ahold of you if I think of anything?" The words again hung awkwardly in the air as though he was unsure how to do this, or even what he was doing.

"Are you hiding something from a city official?" Her face was stern, but her voice revealed the teasing tone of her words. The flirty mood from early quickly returning now that her goal had been accomplished.

"Not all, Offic—Lily." He smiled awkwardly tucking his hands into his pockets. "But...I—uh—I might have a crime to report." The words came out a little strangled. This was clearly not his forte and somehow that made it much cuter.

"Oh, what is that?" He was so easy to flirt with, she would've smacked herself for being so forward but he seemed to be feeling something similar.

"A stolen heart." His face was fully red now and his left kept rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly.

Lily almost laughed, unsure if that was the best response to his pick upline.

"Well, I might consider giving it back if you join me for coffee." She openly flirted, refusing to listen to the voice in her head calling this a very bad idea.

Winn's eyes widened. He clearly hadn't expected that, but he nodded enthusiastically with a goofy grin. The red still hadn't left his cheeks, if anything it was worsening. Lily scribbled her number on a sheet of paper in her notebook. She ripped it out carefully and handed it to Winn.

"Call me." She winked and headed out the door. She needed to get to work or she'd be seriously late.

———

The walk to the DEO was short. Winn's apartment was only a few minutes away from it. Ugh Winn. She chastised herself, what are you doing? You can't go on a date with him. You lied three times in your first conversation.

Resisting the urge to bang her forehead against the wall, she changed quickly and headed to her office. Along the way, she bumped into Alex.

"Hey."

Lily made a face.

"Oh, I recognize that look." Alex slid an arm around her and continued conspiratorially, "boy trouble."

Lily dropped her head on Alex's shoulder with a huff. "You're one to talk, Ms. I'll-do-anything-for-a-doctor's-note."

Alex shoved Lily's head off her shoulder.

"Is he cute at least?" Alex fished for information casually.

"Come on, would I settle for anything less?" Lily said haughtily with an exaggerated flip of her long brown curls.

"Of course, your highness. How could I forget your impeccable standards?" Alex tossed in an eye roll at the end, but her huge grin made it rather hard to feign annoyance.

"I ran into him on my errand," that sounded better than, he was the errand. "And we totally geeked out about Star Wars. He used the absolute cheesiest pick-up line." Lily used her hands for emphasis as she gestured wildly, her cheeks slightly pink. "So I gave him my number, and we'll see what happens."

Alex pretended to gag, "if you buy Han and Leia towels I'm out."

Lily bumped Alex, "you're just jealous that you don't have a Han of your own."

"Oh, so he's Han now. That's a step up." Alex waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Shut up, we talked for five minutes. It's not like we're soulmates." Lily glanced at the notebook in her hands. "Now, I'm going to finish my report before you start planning the wedding."

"I had better be the maid of honor," Alex called as Lily walked away.

Lily flipped her off without turning around.

The rest of the day passed quickly.

Writing the report wasn't too difficult, but she did feel rather guilty about writing a threat assessment of the cute guy she hoped to go on a date with. She ran a background search to make certain she had all the relevant information. Most of it came as no surprise, a degree in computer science, the IT department at Catco. She paused, her mouse hovering over a name on the birth certificate.

Father: Winslow Schott Sr.

The bells that had gone off in the apartment were ringing again, and a quick search told her why.

"Winslow Schott Sr. AKA "Toyman" was convicted of the murder of six people and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. He sent a teddy bear bomb to Chester Dunholtz, the package was instead opened by his assistant. It exploded, killing her and five other people."

Lily closed the article, her stomach churning. A wave of understanding shot through her at the subtle way Winn had changed his name to distance himself from his father. She could understand that, after all, she'd changed her last name to avoid the stigma of her family. And went only by a nickname, because her actual first name was too close to her mother's.

She debated for a while on whether to include this information in the file. On the one hand, she needed to do a comprehensive report, but she also knew that you couldn't judge someone by the maniacs in their family. Eventually, she decided against it. Not wanting to bias Hank against Winn, and the information was easy to find if he looked for it.

All in all, she concluded, going back to her report. Winslow Schott Jr.'s background in computer science makes him a capable hacker. But, he appears to be a negligible threat.

Lily leaned back in her chair and stretched. She glanced at the clock, it was early enough in the day that Hank could still bring in Kara. Knowing there was no point in prolonging the innevitable, she decided to just rip the bandaid off and give Hank the file. She walked to his office slowly and knocked on the door cautiously, not wanting to disturb him.

"Come in." His voice was gruff and left no room for disobediance.

Lily pushed open the door, entered the room, and closed the door before she started talking.

"Sir, I finished the report." She handed him the file, "I found an accomplice of Kara Danvers. His name is Winn Schott Jr., an IT tech at Catco. He's been hacking the NCPD dispatch. I conducted a threat level assessment this morning and found his threat level to be negligable."

Hank nodded appreciatively, "good work, Agent. I'll look over the file, we're picking up Miss Danvers tonight."

Lily tried not to blanch at the callousness in his tone, emotional distance was just part of the job.

"Sir, if I might request? Could I be the one to tell Alex about tonight's assignment?"

Hank sized her up for a moment before nodding. "Tell her we leave at 1800, we're going to the mountain facility."

Lily nodded, "sir," and left.

———

Lily found Alex in her lab, pouring over her latest experiment. A beaker bubbled over a small flame, it contents glowing ominously. Again she knocked before entering, remembering her close encounter with the laser.

"Hey, Doc. Trying to find a new stage in human evolution?"

Alex laughed at Lily's tendency to overplay the importance of her experiments.

"Just studying that skin sample I told you about last time. It did something really weird when I tried to clean. So now I'm testing its response to different chemicals in the cleaner."

"Cool." It really did sound interesting, but Lily was on a mission. "Hey, what do you say we go spar, like old times? I bet I can still kick your ass."

"Oh please. You could never kick my ass."

"Is that a yes?" Lily poked her friend, earning a laugh before her hand was swatted away.

"Sure." Alex pulled off the lab coat, "it would be good to get out of the lab for a bit."

Lily tugged her hand impatiently, "come on."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Alex turned the dial on the small burner, extinguishing the flame. She made sure everything else was off before she joined Lily in the doorway.

They headed down the stairs and took a right to the small gym that agents used for onsight training. The room was sparsely furnished, various exercise machines were lined up against a far wall, a large fan overhead kept the room cool, and in the center of the room was the large mat that agents used for sparring sessions. Alex stretched against one wall, and Lily put her hair in a tight bun before doing the same.

"So what's on your mind?"

"Hmm," Lily looked up at Alex's question.

"You normally want to spar because there's something on your mind. So spill."

Lily shifted from foot to foot. "I'll tell you once we get started. I need to move, I've been stuck at that desk all day."

Alex nodded and they both moved toward the mat.

"Standard rules?" Alex asked.

Lily nodded. "Uncle means forfeit. No cheap shots."

They danced around the mat for a minute, loosening their muscles as they assumed a fighting stance.

Lily swung first, a sharp jab that Alex blocked. Alex retaliated with a fast cross that caught Lily's unbruised shoulder, instead of the jaw she'd been aiming for.

"So." Lily began, swinging again. "Hank gave me an assignment I didn't tell you about."

Alex said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate. She tried a roundhouse kick with her leg, that Lily caught. Intending to flip her by the leg, Lily was caught off guard when Alex pulled her leg back forcefully throwing Lily off balance.

As Lily caught herself, she continued. "He wanted me to do a threat assessment so we could bring Kara in."

Alex's cross didn't miss this time and Lily could feel her jaw bruising.

Lily held a hand to her cheek gingerly and looked up at Alex. Her face was stony.

"Hank wants us to be ready for transport to the mountain at 1800."

Alex walked off the mat, toward the door.

"Alex, wait," Lily called pleadingly. "Say something, please."

"Uncle," Alex didn't turn around, her voice as stony as her face.

———

It was a tense two hours until the 1800 transport. Lily had retreated to her office, not wanting to face the prospect of running into Alex. She had no doubt that she deserved her black and blue cheek, but it still stung.

The time seemed to drag by, and Lily tried to distract herself with minor IT jobs she'd been putting off. The image of Alex's stony face kept popping into her mind, but she knew it was too early to apologize. Alex had a fiery temper and it was no use talking to her while she was all riled up. With forty-five minutes to go, Lily was starting to get antsy. She wasn't sure if she could handle the thirty-minute ride to the mountains.

Her phone chimed momentarily distracting her from her internal tirade.

Unknown number: Is it too late to take you up on coffee? —Winn

In spite of the bruise on her cheek, she smiled. She could almost hear the awkward note in his voice as she text. Alex was momentarily pushed from her mind.

Sure. Have you ever been to Mocha Owl?

The small coffee shop was close to the DEO, only a five-minute walk. Plenty of time to get there and back before the transport left.

Winn: See you in ten?

Lily agreed and grabbed her bag, it was no use wallowing here another minute. She clocked out without talking to anyone. She took a large breath of cool city air as she exited the building, there was something about cold air that just a person feel so alive.

As she'd expected, she arrived with a few minutes to spare. She took a seat on a comfy couch in the back, and sipped from her coffee thermos. Winn arrived a few minutes later, looking just as cute as he had this morning, his considerably more windswept though.

"I see you came prepared," he motioned to the thermos in her hands.

She shrugged, "what can I say? I'm a pro when it comes to coffee." She glanced out the window enjoying the view for a moment, but the moment brought Winn's focus to her cheek.

"You look like you lost a fight with the world's tallest doorknob."

Lily laughed, "just a mistake on the job. They can't all be an interview with a cute nerd."

Winn laughed and his cheeks turned pink, clearly not used to being so openly complimented.

"So how did your day go? Did you ever catch the guy that caused the disturbance?"

Lily nodded, remembering her cover. Now with a twinge of regret, why did I have to lie to the cute guy?

"Yeah, one of your neighbors saw something. It wasn't hard to go from there."

"What about you? Did your boss pile on you again?"

Winn shook his head, "thankfully it wasn't too much. I think I had a bit of good luck today."

His eyes met hers and he turned pink. Lily's own cheeks heated up at the implication.

From a conversation about work, it was easy enough to slide into an animated discussion about the Star Wars franchise.

"I'm just saying," Lily attempted to counter Winn's point. "The prequel trilogy really didn't do the series any favors. I mean we all knew where Anikan's story was going to end, so what's the point?"

Winn held a hand to his heart, clearly wounded. "The point? The point is that any good prequel expands on a story. Sure, we knew Anikan was going to be evil, but we got to learn how he turned evil. Isn't it so much more interesting when you know the villain's tragic backstory?" Lily enjoyed the way his awkwardness completely evaporated into passion as he talked about the movie. The words 'villain's tragic backstory' struck a cord in her heart, but she pushed the pain away. She really did not want to think of Lex right now.

Her eyes wandered over Winn's face, looking more through him than at him. She wondered if those words made him think of his father. Of all the terrible things he'd done or like she did with Lex, of the kind soul he used to be.

Winn waved a hand in front of her cautiously, "am I boring you? Because there are a million other things I could talk about. I mean it's not every day I get to have coffee with a pretty girl so..." His voice trailed away clearly embarrassed at the accidental compliment.

"No, no. I love Star Wars. You just reminded me of someone."

Winn clearly caught the tone in her voice and didn't ask her to elaborate. That flash of camaraderie she'd had when reading about his father was back. His hand brushed hers on the table and she smiled at the sweet gesture. Both of them two awkward to fully hold hands on the first date. Was this a date?

That thought went out the window as she glanced at her watch. She jerked her hand back quickly, shoving her thermos into her purse. She only had ten minutes before the transport left. Hank would kill her if she was late.

"Do you have somewhere else to be? Because I'm beginning to feel like your mistress."

"Oh, no." Lily waved off the comment, "I just have to meet my partner for a stakeout soon and he's a real stickler about being on time." She stood up collecting her purse. She paused, unsure what the proper goodbye gesture was. Should she hug him? A handshake maybe?

She realized she'd paused too long and waved awkwardly. "We should do this again." She beamed at him, ignoring the pain in her cheek.

Winn nodded, his eyes shining, "definitely."

———

Lily sipped her thermos as she walked back to the DEO. She was running low on coffee, but she figured soon enough she'd be running on adrenaline just fine. She clocked back in quickly and changed into her work clothes in record time, meeting Alex and Hank in the large command hub. The latter nodded at her while the former didn't say a word.

"Good of you to join us, Agent. Your file was very informative." Alex stiffened slightly at Hank's words and the knot in her stomach that had unclenched at the coffee shop came back twice as painfully.

"Vasquez, you're in charge." Hank barked as they headed towards the garage.

"Sir," came the response.

They piled into the transport silently. No one daring to break the awkward spell until finally Alex got fed up.

"Sir, why was I not informed of this operation before?"

"Personal involvement. You're too close to the target, Danvers."

Alex bit back what was probably a scathing reply and didn't say another word until they arrived at the mountain. They threaded their way through the labyrinth-like building to the room where Alex's sister lay sedated.

Alex blatantly flinched at the kryptonite dart still stuck in her chest, Lily knew this was her biggest fear.

Hank noticed. "Take a minute, Danvers. She'll be out at least a half-hour."

Alex nodded and left the room silently.

"Sir," Lily started, motioning after Alex. "Can I?"

Hank nodded.

Lily ran after her best friend. "Alex," she called, walking up hesitantly. Not sure if Alex would want her company. When Alex yell Lily took that as an ok to sit down. "I know this scares you. I know if it were Kiera in there, I'd be terrified." She slid a little closer to Alex. "Your sister is different and that makes her special, and yes, it means that people will be scared of her and they may try to do bad things to her. But Alex,"—Lily held her cheek gently, looking her in the eyes— "Hank Henshaw is not one of those people." Lily slid an arm around Alex, and Alex lay her head on Lily's shoulder. "We have known Hank for a long time, and he may be a hardass,"—Alex laughed lightly—"but, he is not a bad person."

Alex nodded her head against Lily's shoulder. They stayed like that for a few more minutes before Alex sat up. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and smoothed her shirt. As she stood up she didn't meet Lily's gaze, and Lily knew there were still some bridges to be mended. But their friendship was not broken forever.

Lily and Alex leaned against the wall waiting for Kara to wake. Alex had insisted on unbuckling the Kryptonite cuffs on her sister's wrist and Hank clearly hadn't agreed, but he'd allowed it.

A while later the room was filled with a groan as Kara finally woke. She immediately tried to get up, clearly unsettled by her new surroundings. However, there was enough of the Kryptonite still in her system that she was weak. She fell back to the table with a quiet thud. Lily glanced at Alex to see how she was handling this, only to find her face just as stony as it had been when she punched Lily.

"What is this place? Who are you?" Kara was very clearly panicking

Hank stepped into her field of vision. "My name is Hank Henshaw. This is Agent Larken." He pointed to Lily. "And I believe you already know Agent Danvers." Alex moved to her sister's side, trying to hold her hand comfortingly, but Kara jerked away.

"Alex?" Betrayal was etched into her voice, and Lily could see that it was almost enough to make Alex's careful mask crumble.

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