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farfromstrange · 6 months

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him.

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true.

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks.

Foggy dislocated his shoulder.

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act.

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital.

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him.

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips.

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on.

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought.

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence.

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say.

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why?

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask.

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet.

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says.

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind.

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real.

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says.

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further.

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go.

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort.

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about.

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot.

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself.

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise.

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated.

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart.

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?”

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.”

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing.

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier.

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor.

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin.

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry.

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help.

“It’s fine,” he assures you.

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.”

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier.

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes.

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do.

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie.

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for.

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers.

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.”

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye.

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says.

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running.

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #doctor!reader #medical drama #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox #do no harm

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flwrshee · 10 months

Text

✉️ TUTOR

duo ﹒ heeseung x fmr genre fluff and slightly suggestive wc 1,4k warnings nicknames , kissing , cursing ( tune in while reading )

clicking your pen, you stare at heeseung’s hands gripping on the pencil as he writes down the answer to a hard equation.

if you had told yourself that you would be helping the lee heeseung with his chemistry and maths homework every wednesday you would have laughed at yourself.

tutoring wasn’t something on your list, ever. even though you considered yourself smart compared to your class, tutoring people didn’t suit you. dealing with people who weren’t up to your level disgusted you.

it happened when your teacher suggested you to heeseung because his grades were not very great. he was the epitome of a classic, cliche frat boy. he always skipped lessons and you often spotted him with bruises or in the middle of hallway fights.

at first you didn’t wanted to accept the offer and thought of multiple ways to kindly decline the offer but seeing your teacher recommended you over and over again to him made you feel bad. the only reason you chose to tutor him was because your teacher would love you more than she hated you. you were such a try hard despite yourself knowing that already.

“you want to be with heeseung so bad.” yunjin says while teasing you for the nth time today, you were sick of it.

“i already told you, i do not like him.” you emphasise the last five words as you turn around ignoring her teasing face.

“who don’t you like park yn?” a voice whispers in your ear.

fuck. lee heeseung.

“none of your business lee, go back to your table” you shoo him away with your hands. “yes miss yn, see you after school!” he says in a high voice while waving his hands and giving you a stupid wink.

a stupid wink. you hated it.

it was right that you accepted your teacher’s offer to work with him, only for your benefit but as time flew by heeseung started becoming close to you. your small smiles and hand waves became long conversations about things that weren’t about the topic you taught him. he slowly started seeping in your life and you didn’t even realise.

“see it’s that simple!” you say to heeseung while finish explaining the question. the maths problem he had found confusing was a piece of cake for you. “ugh why do you find everything easy?” he mumbles under his breath just enough so you can hear the irritated tone in his voice.

“lee, just accept the fact that i'm better than you in every way possible” you tell him with implied arrogance to piss him off even more. "i kind of forgot that your a miss know-it-all thats ready to do anything to make me mad." he utters leaning closely to your face just so you could feel his hot breath surrounding your face.

"what the hell lee, get out of my face." you say while turning around hiding the pink tint entering your cheeks, why does he make you feel this way? your phone beeps making you get of your thoughts, realising that your tutor session with him had ended. finally, you think. no more covering your face from him until another 24 hours.

"class finished! you can now leave my room lee." you tell him while signalling at the entrance of your doorway. "yn," he speaks while making an abrupt pause, "see you soon." while waving his hands and giving you a smug smile. what was he up to now?

to be honest, you couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard you tried. all your attempts from sleeping with a eye mask to listening to music, failed. looking at your bright screen, you read the numbers 1:03. it was one in the morning and your eyes were still as wide as a bat’s.

just as you were about to turn around and try a different technique to make yourself sleep, you hear the rattling sound of your window opening, with a gust of cold wind entering your room. looking at the silhouette trying to get into your room, your defensive mind grabs the lamp by your table as you jump over your bed and hit the person’s head.

ouch.

when they turn around, you see them holding a hand to their head while the other one gives you the middle finger. must have hurt them bad. you can’t see them very clearly, however you can define the neat jawline, unkept hair and distinct fashion tense. why were they in your room? not a kidnapper right?

“look first and then react, park yn” a low voice says as the light in your room switches on as you can see the person in front of you. lee heeseung. “what are you doing h-” before you could finish your sentence his large hand covers your mouth as the other one grabs your waist. he places his hand on his lips while making a shh sound.

“can you not be quiet for a second?” while rolling his eyes, “how can i not when you trespassed into my room lee, i can report you for thi-” he interrupts you again “don’t you understand the meaning of quiet?” while leaving barely any space between your faces. “for gods sake lee, why are you here ?!” you utter with irritation laced in your voice, wanting answers, not him stalling your time.

“well…” he says while looking at you, “i need help with one of my math’s questions, i have a test tomorrow.” his hands still on your waist.

“so your telling me, you came all the way from your house, climbed up to my window, broke into my room just for a maths question?” tilting your head to the side, you ask him not very impressed.

“yes, i did all of that just for a maths question” he shamelessly replies while maintaining the eye contact between the two of you. you didn’t believe him one bit.

“i don’t believe you lee”

“then don’t”

“your not going to convince me?”

“have you always been this stupid?”

goddamn it. this man was getting on your nerves, your ego was getting crushed from each word he spat of his mouth. or were you really that slow? does lee heeseung make everyone feel this way?

“what if i said yes, just fucking tell me” you whisper-scream not wanting to wake up anyone in your house. “she’s so oblivious” a mutter rolls of his tongue just loud enough for him to hear himself.

“did you really think i came all the way for a maths question? you tell me miss-know-it-all.”

“i don’t have an answer”

“fuck it”

all that happened next was a blur to you. your lips and his lips were together, moulded perfectly like they were made for each other. both his hands were on your waist while your hands went automatically to his neck.

heeseung kissed you like it was the end of the world, kissing you so you would remember this for a lifetime. you couldn’t admit to yourself that you genuinely enjoyed it.

breaking it, you catch your breath while staring at his plump lips. “is this was what you wanted to tell me heeseung?”embarrassed to even look and talk to his pretty face.

“heeseung? thats new”

you lightly hit his chest and held you face with your two hands. he takes them away and cups your cheeks with his hands and gently kisses your forehead.

“you finally got it.” while bopping his nose with yours, “after you made out with me, yes i did heeseung”

“you know what, you should call me heeseung often,” he tells you while slightly stroking your hair looking at brown strands glow under the dim light, “ok, hee”

“hee?” he says flustered, the tables had turned, “hee suits you better.” you say while giving him his signature smug smile, now it was his time to be shy.

“so hee, what are we now?”

“do i need to kiss you again to remind you?”

“maybe?”

the kiss was a short as a peck — sadly, but you could hear footsteps approaching you room and a voice calling your name. it was your mum, “yn, are you asleep?”

“yes mum im fine” you hurriedly say while pushing heeseung towards the window indicating him to get out. before leaving your room, he sends you a flying kiss and a cheesy wink.

rushing to your window, you spot him at the bottom while waving his hands for you to see him, “see you tomorrow girlfriend!” you signal him to be quiet while whispering, “me too boyfriend.”

as you watch him leave, you sink into the warm sheets of your bed wondering what happened in the last hour. everything felt too unreal to be true, but it was, and you were glad it was.

it was a dream that came to life.

note 💬 thank you my love @yeokii for proofreading this, this has been in my drafts for way too long and sorry @seongclb for making you wait so long. hoping it turned out well 😁

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nycbaby21 · 8 months

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A Kiss on the Cheek

prompt: meeting the Hughes family doesn't go as good as either of you hope (angsty)

word count: 4,331

*It hurt me to make them all mean and to write this*

“Would you stop fidgeting? It’s going to be fine baby. They are gonna like you, trust me,” Quinn’s voice interrupts my anxious thoughts about meeting his family. I look down and notice I am picking at my fingers, so I put my hands face down on my lap. I glance over at Quinn who is concentrating on driving, I honestly wonder how I got so lucky to be with him. We met at the sports bar I worked at in Vancouver. The team walked in to celebrate a win, and Quinn walked out with my phone number. I didn’t even know who he was, or what he did for a living until our third date.

“Sorry,” I mumble quietly. My nerves are through the roof right now. The Hughes family, especially the brothers, are one of the closest families I have ever seen. I know that Quinn values their opinion more than anything else. He once called Jack and Luke to weigh in on the new couch he was buying. “Hey would you look at me please,” he says stopping at the stop sign. I look over and he smiles at me.

“You know after you stop you can go right,” I laugh trying to get out of this conversation. “Really? I had no clue. Good thing I have you to keep me informed,” he joked rolling his eyes at me. He reaches across the console, grabs one of my hands, and brings it to his lips. “Y/n, I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You are literally the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says sweetly looking over with loving eyes. “Even more than hockey,” I ask raising an eyebrow, joking with him now. “Okay second best,” he says and I slap his chest playfully.

“Thank you, Quinny,” I say leaning over and kissing his cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. But if you wanted to, I think I need a little more than a kiss on the cheek,” he says leaning towards me a connecting our lips. I smile into the kiss and can’t help but fall more in love with Quinn Hughes. We hadn’t said that out loud yet, but I knew how I felt about him. A horn honking snaps us apart. He laughs and drives forward while I sink into my seat embarrassed.

We pull up to his parent’s house he turns off the car. He had already unbuckled and opened his door before I even made the first move. He walks around the car, leans over gently unbuckles my seatbelt, and opens my door. He puts his hand out for me to grab as he pulls me out of the car. I smile up at him and he leans down giving me one more reassuring kiss. We break apart and I notice people watching us from the window.

“Hey, if you are uncomfortable at any time you’ll tell me, right? Because they can be a lot and I think some of Jack’s friends are here. If they say anything I’ll kick their ass okay,” he adds the last part trying to make me smile. I give him a closed-lip smile and lace our fingers together as we walk up to the door. Before he can even open the door, it is flung open, and a brunette boy a little taller than Quinn, who I know is Jack, launches himself on my boyfriend. I smile at just how close they actually are.

“Okay, Jack enough. Let him come in okay,” I hear a female voice come from further in the house. Quinn ushers me inside first and follows closing the door. We shed our jackets and I finally turn a see a room full of people staring at me. I give them a shy smile and feel my legs turning into jello. “Everyone this is Y/n. Y/n this is my mom and dad, Ellen and Jim. And over there is Luke, Trevor, Alex, and Cole. And of course Jack,” Quinn says pointing everyone out to me. I give a quick nod already knowing their names from studying them on the way here.

“It’s so nice to meet all of you. Quinn has told me all about you. And thank you for inviting me into your house,” I say turning to face his parents. His dad gives me a small smile and reaches forward to shake my hand. His mom stared at me for a second and then ran to the kitchen after hearing a beep. I shrugged it off, thinking I was just being sensitive and overthinking everything. After everyone greeted Quinn, he moved over to the couch and I quickly followed suit.

The guys were playing some video game on the tv and Quinn was quickly sucked into it. I tried to keep up but I had no idea what they were talking about. I just sat back and nodded or looked up at the screen trying to follow. “You wanna try,” Jack asks pushing the controller towards me. I open my mouth to say no thank you but before I can Luke interrupts,” She can try later okay? I really wanna beat this before Quinn has to go. No offense or anything to you.” I brush it off and nod saying it was fine. Jack looked over and gave me a sorry look. The guys were so into the game, that no one noticed I had gotten up and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. I was going to offer to help with dinner, but I stopped in my tracks after actually hearing what they were saying.

“El, come on you can’t already hate the girl. They just got here,” Jim whispers to his wife. Ellen didn’t even try to lower her voice. “Jim I don’t hate her. I’m just saying I want the very best for Quinn and I just don’t think that’s her,” she says walking around the kitchen. “Sweetheart. We don’t even know her yet. I mean I loved Ex/n just as much as you did, but that doesn’t mean we can cast this girl off,” he says following his wife from the kitchen to the dining room.

“How do you know she isn’t just using him for money, Jim? I mean we know nothing about this girl. Nothing. Quinn used to talk all the time about Ex/n. He has only ever mentioned this girl once. And that was to tell me she was coming for the weekend with him.” My eyes filled to the brim with tears and I had heard enough. I understood how they were still close with his ex. His mom still followed her and commented on her things. They were together a long time so I completely got that. But hearing that he didn’t talk about me like I did him to my mom hurt. Also, I felt like I wasn’t even getting a fair chance.

As I turned around to go back to Quinn I bumped into Jack. My eyes go wide and I glance at the kitchen. He gave me a look filled with pity and I knew that he had heard the whole thing. He went to open his mouth to say something when I cut him off,” Jack hey, didn’t see you there. I was just heading back.” We both knew I was lying but he chose not to say anything and followed me back into the living room. “Hey, baby. Where did you go? I didn’t even notice you were gone,” Quinn says looking over to me.

“Sorry, I just had to call Mom and let her know we made it. You know how she gets,” I laugh and out of the corner of my eye, I see Jack look our way. I cut him a look pleading him not to say anything. He sighs but nods and turns his attention back to the game. When I turn I see Trevor and Luke staring between me and Jack. I tried to ignore it and curled into Quinn’s side. I started picking at my fingers again, this time Quinn didn’t notice.

As we all sit down for dinner my stomach drops to the floor. In the big bowl in the center of the table was a shrimp alfredo dish. I have a small seafood allergy and couldn’t eat what she had cooked. I already felt awful from the words I heard from the kitchen earlier, so now how would they feel when I didn’t eat? Quinn hands me a plate and smiles down at me before fixing his own. I sign and tell him thank you. I pushed the food around and ate some of the noodles here and there when someone would look my way. My throat would be scratchy later but nothing too serious would happen from just a couple bites.

“So how did the two of you meet,” Jim asks breaking the awkward silence at the table. All eyes are on Quinn and I,” we meet at the bar she works at.” I know I shouldn’t feel ashamed about what I do for work, I really enjoyed it. But something about sitting at a table full of professional hockey players, future professional hockey players, and their parents made me feel so self-conscious. “You work at a bar,” Cole asked looking my way. I knew he didn’t mean it the way I took it but it made my face flush. “Yeah, I wait tables at this sports bar in downtown Vancouver,” I finally say after drinking almost my whole glass of water.

“The guys and I went out one night after a game to this new bar near the arena. Y/n was our server for the night,” Quinn said proudly putting his hand on the top of the table. “I’m working on my degree so I work at the bar at night to help pay for school,” I say hoping that would give me some brownie points. I guess that was enough because the conversation was quickly changed and never revisited. “Oh Quinny did you see that Ex/n got that role in the movie,” Ellen asked excitedly. I tensed up and tried to distract myself. I felt a small nudge under the table and looked across to see Jack. He sends me a smile and I return it. At least one of them liked me, or he just pitied me.

“Oh yeah, I did. She called me after she found out. Said the only reason she got it was because of all the practicing I helped her do for it,” my boyfriend explained to his mom. She let out the biggest smile and it made my already broken heart completely shatter. Quinn hadn’t told me that they had talked. “Oh, I would love to talk to her,” his mom gushed. I sat in my chair rethinking and overanalyzing every little detail of our relationship. I knew I was going to cry and didn’t need anyone to see. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” I whisper to Quinn, who just nods and keeps talking to Luke about something.

I head down the hall looking for a bathroom when a voice from behind me scared me. “You can use the one in my room if you want,” Jack said and I let out a deep breath knowing it was him. I smiled and followed him to his room. By the time I made it to the door, the floodgates opened. I quickly shut the door and locked it. I sat on the floor and cried trying to keep myself quiet. I heard some ruffling outside the door and noticed a shadow on the other side. “I know this is a dumb question, but are you okay,” Jack asks through the door. “Yeah I’m fine,” I sniffle trying to pull myself together. “I can go grab Quinn if you want,” he started but I interrupted him. “Please don’t,” I said louder than I realized.

“Okay okay, I won’t. Is there anything I can do,” he was being really nice to me and I wondered why the rest of them didn’t. “No. I promise I’m fine. I’m just super emotional. It’ll pass,” I croak out my throat already getting irritated from the small amount of food I ate. “There is a cup next to the sink I use to rinse my mouth, I know it’s weird because you don’t know me. But you should fill it up and drink something your voice sounds shaky,” he says with a slight worry in his voice. I leaned over and unlocked the door. I see the middle Hughes brother leaning against the wall.

“It’s not from the crying. Well that probably isn’t helping, but I actually have a small seafood allergy,” I say hating the look he gives me. “Why the hell did you eat then,” he raises his voice and I quickly shushed him. “Keep your voice down, please. You heard them in the kitchen earlier, I didn’t wanna give them another reason to hate me. So I ate it. I’m not gonna die or anything. My throat is just scratchy and my eyes are puffy,” I say leaning back against the bathroom cabinet.

Jack crawls into the bathroom and sits opposite me leaning against the bathtub. “I’m really sorry about my parents,” he says after some time. “It’s okay,” I reply automatically. “No, it’s not. I know how bad it sucks trying to prove to someone you are worth it. I went through that and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. So no it is not okay,” he was very different than I imagined him. From Quinn’s stories, he was this goofy energetic guy who couldn’t sit still, but he was being so calm and serious right now. “Yeah I guess you’re right,” I whisper. “Are you gonna tell Quinn,” I ask looking up at him. He looks back at me conflicted. “I won’t tell him tonight. But if you haven’t by tomorrow I will.” The deadline he had given me made me sick to my stomach.

I stand up and splash cold water on my face. I try and make myself look somewhat presentable and turn around to see Jack leaning against the doorframe. “Thank you, Jack. It really made me feel better,” I say and he pulls me into a hug. I hear footsteps walking away from us and jump away from him. “Oh no,” I say rushing out of the door towards the hall. I make it to the kitchen just in time to see Luke telling Quinn what he just saw.

In his defense, it probably did look bad, but maybe if he had actually stopped for two seconds he would have known. “What the hell,” Quinn stands up from the couch and looks my way. By that time Jack had walked in and looked around the room. “Quinn? Are you still there,” I hear a voice coming from his phone and this time I don’t try and hide the tears. I knew who it was, I made myself watch all of her movies one night. “Hold on sweetie he’ll call you back,” Ellen says and hangs up the phone.

“You wanna say something or just stand there,” I have never heard him this mad. “Her say something? Quinn why don’t you say something,” Jack says walking forward and standing even with me. Quinn’s eyes shoot between the two of us and his nostrils flare. He was angry, and he had every right to be. But if he had every right, so did I. ”I’m sorry what the hell does that mean? Because from this side of the couch, it looks a lot like my girlfriend is all over my brother,” his words are laced with venom. Jim stands up and puts himself between the boys. “Quinn nothing is going on! Jack was just comforting me,” I say with a rough voice.

“Sure sounds like something happened,” he says face red with anger. I step back a step away from him, which only upset him more. “We have seen you all night looking at Jack. And every time he goes somewhere you go to,” Luke says defending one brother while glaring at the other one. “Unless you can give me the truth about what happened, I think maybe you should go,” his words pierce my heart like an arrow. “What,” I ask tears falling down my face at this point.

“The truth Y/n. And if you lie to me we are through,” he says stone-faced. I shake my head not even believing what is happening right now. I hoped all of this was some nightmare I was about to wake up from. “You honestly think I would come into your parent’s house and try and get with your little brother,” I ask not caring how rude I sounded. “Unless you give me a reason to think otherwise yes.” I shake my head and grab my jacket from the rack. “Where the hell do you think you’re going,” he asks following me. “You said leave so I am.” I opened the door and walked out not bothering to shut it.

The cold night air sent chills down my spine, but I think I would rather freeze than be inside that house any longer. The part that put the final nail in the coffin was that he let me walk out and he didn’t try to stop me. It was dark and I had no idea where I was. I reached in my pocket for my phone and I realized it was left on the table. “Fuck,” I let out all my emotions. I remembered a small diner not too far away so I started walking. I didn’t stop until I got there and noticed an older man locking the doors. “Excuse me are you closing,” I ask tears streaming down my face. He looks up at me and his eyes widen. I must look terrible and scare him.

“Eugene, honey grab my sweater from the truck please,” I hear a feminine voice come behind me. A nice older lady put her hand on the small of my back and ushered me into the building. “If you are closed I can leave,” I try and walk out but her grip is strong for an old lady. “Sweetheart there is no way I am leaving you outside in all of this,” she says sternly and leads me to a stool at the bartop. She quickly walks towards the back and I hear her clattering around. I feel something on my shoulders and see Eugene wrapping her sweater around me. I send him a sweet smile and his wife is back with three cups of hot chocolate.

“Alright sweetie get to talking,” she says patting my arm. I look between the two of them and sigh. I tell them the whole story, from meeting Quinn in Vancouver to tonight. They never once interrupted or made me feel like a burden for dumping my problems on them. “Here let me get these dishes and we can take you to a motel for the night and figure out the rest tomorrow,” Eugene says gathering up the cups and walking to the kitchen. Martha, his wife, put her hand on top of mine and smiled at me. “I’m sorry all this happened to you. Michigan really is a wonderful place. I hate your visit wasn’t,” she said. As they close up shop for the second time tonight, I wait for them outside their truck. Everything in me said don’t get in with them, but what else could I do? My thoughts are shut down when I hear someone yelling my name.

“Y/n, oh my gosh. I’m so glad I found you. You scared the shit out of me. Please don’t ever do that again,” Quinn rushes towards me wrapping me in his arms. I let him for a second and then I push him off. He looks at me and I can tell he has been crying. I hear a door shut and see Jack get out of the car and walk over. “Who are you two,” Eugen says walking over and putting himself in front of me. Martha pulled me into a hug, noticing I was crying again. “I’m her boyfriend Quinn. Who are you,” his voice is mixed with confusion and anger. Who the hell was this guy trying to “protect” you from him?

“Last time I checked I didn’t have one of those,” I say staring him dead in the eyes. His whole face dropped. Jack stayed a little ways back and watched everything go down. “Baby, please don’t say that. You don’t mean it,” Quinn says stepping closer. Eugene slides over blocking me once again. I step out of Martha’s embrace and put my arm on Eugene’s shoulder. He looked down at me and I nodded my head at him. The two older people step back and lean against their truck watching the whole thing. I walked towards the man I loved and frowned.

He took my actions as forgiveness and opened his arms. “No Quinn, I do mean it. You can’t actually believe after everything that just happened, I was just gonna jump in your arms and we ride off in the sunset?” He closed his arms and his body shook from the sob that left his mouth. “I will never ever be able to apologize enough for tonight. And I don’t think you should forgive me,” he says through tears. Seeing him like this hurt me, but he hurt me more. “Jack told me everything,” that was all he had to say. I looked behind him at the younger boy and he nodded.

“So you believe him? But not me,” I whisper barely being able to talk. “Y/n/n, please.” I shake my head. “Please what Quinn? I don’t know what you want from me,” I scream back frustrated. Jack walks forward and stands between us. I felt like shit putting him in the middle of us. “Please don’t leave me. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I hurt you more tonight than I have ever hurt anyone else. I know that if you tell me to right now I will walk away,” he started,” but you know what else I know? I know that I have never been happier than I have in the past months with you. I know that I screwed up my chance at happiness tonight. And I also know that I may just lose the girl I love because of my own stupidity.”

After his speech, he just dropped to the ground and cried. I look away from him and to Eugene and Martha. Then I look over at Jack, who is already staring at me. “You love me,” I ask squatting down in front of him. He picks his head up and looks me in the eye. “Of course I do, I just have the shittest way of showing it I guess,” he says and a small laugh leaves my lips. His face perks up at that. “I love you too,” I say wiping the tears away from his eyes. He grabs my wrist and holds them in place. He seemed scared that I would disappear if he let go. He closed his eyes and finally took a normal breath.

“I don’t deserve it,” he says opening his eyes and looking over at me. “You know the funny thing, Hughes, you don’t get to decide that,” I say dropping down to my knees and moving my arms around his neck. He doesn’t wait another second and his are around my waist. He holds me tighter than he ever has before. “I am gonna spend every day for the rest of my life making up for the way I treated you tonight,” he says into my hair. “I know you will. You are a good man, Quinn, I think we just both got a little insecure tonight,” I say back. He nods and holds me while we sit on the ground outside the diner in the freezing air.

When we got back to the house I figured everyone was asleep. I followed Jack inside and saw everyone sitting on the couches with worried looks. Their heads snap up when they hear us walk in. “Oh thank the lord,” Ellen says rushing over. She stopped right before she got to me and looked at me. I nodded my head and she wrapped me up in her arms. “I am so sorry for the way I treated you tonight. I judged you before I even knew you and almost ruined everything,” she cried and I shook my head. “It’s gonna be all right. We can start over,” I say and she pulls back. “I would really like that,” she says wiping some tears from her face. Slowly everyone started going to bed and it was just Quinn and me.

“I waited until I was with you to do this,” he says as I get in bed next to him. I look over and he pulls out his phone and blocks his ex on everything, and then her number. “Quinn you didn’t,” he cut me off. “Yes, I did. I am a happily taken man who doesn’t need any contact with my ex,” he says looking down at me. I smile and give him a small kiss on the cheek. “I never thought I would be so happy for a kiss on the cheek in my life,” he said making me laugh. “Baby steps, Quinn,” I say laying my head on his chest. I knew we would have to have a longer talk, and that everything wasn’t going to be fixed immediately. Things were gonna take time, but I knew Quinn was worth it.

#nycbaby21works #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine

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rose-pearls · 1 year

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You're losing me - Part 2

This is a part 2 to this fic! So happy that some of you liked it and I hope you enjoy reading this second part!

‘Hi leave a message after the beep, I’ll make sure to call you later!’

‘It’s Jake. I know you probably blocked my number or something but I-’, a sob can be heard on the other end of the line. ‘I just need to talk to you, please. I know I fucked up and I’m so sorry for what I did, you need to know that. You-you were in my life for just a few weeks and yet you flipped it upside down.’, the voice quivers for a moment and they release a deep sigh. ‘Every time I see kittens I think of you, every time I see a golden retriever I think of you, hell I even think of you when I see a jet taking off. I can’t get you out of my mind, it feels like I lost a part of me that night.’, shaky breaths are taken, and another sob can be heard. ‘I killed someone.’, the voice whispers barely audible. ‘Everyone was congratulating me, but I feel sick, I’m hiding in the storage closet hoping to stop seeing him appear in front of me. The only thing I can think about is when you were there for me that night and I guess I need you back with me, please call me.’, a long silence follows, shaky breaths taken before shaky words are whispered. ‘I wanted to tell you this in person but I-’

‘This message has reached his length limit. Please call the person back or end this call.’

You didn’t know how to feel, coming back to Top Gun after everything that happened but it wasn’t like you had a choice. Your Captain had quietly told you to take your things and join the secret mission, he had a somber look when telling you that, but you tried to ignore it.

The Hard Deck was still there two years later, and it seemed to still be as crowded as you looked from your car. Before you finally convinced yourself to enter the bar you saw a blue bronco stop next to yours and a man with a moustache getting out, walking towards the bar. You couldn’t help but snort at his Hawaiian shirt and moustache.

After a small pep talk you convinced yourself to get out and in the Hard Deck, who knew maybe he wasn’t there. You knew that you were kidding yourself, even Steph had been called back, they were apparently calling back the best or the best. That was the only information she had been able to get out of her dad.

The bar is loud, but you can’t hear it over your heartbeat, beating loudly in your ears and even though you take a look across the room you manage to not see your father who is looking like he has seen a ghost.

“Fire?!”, the callsign makes you look towards the pool table, and you see Phoenix in the distance looking at you with wide eyes and a bright smile.

“This must be an important mission if you’re here.”, she says and you smile in answer, bringing her into a hug.

“Good to see you too Nat.”, she smiles, and you turn around to find a group of pilots looking at you but there is one that get your attention even after two years.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

He looks good, even after two years he still manages to take your breath away and make butterflies fly in your stomach, but you push them down, remembering yourself of what happened. He looks slightly taken aback and is looking at you with sad green eyes, but you ignore them, looking away.

“So, does anyone have any information?”, you try to say without your voice shaking and by some small miracle you manage.

“Not more than you do.”, the man with the moustache tells you and you look at him curiously.

“Right, you probably haven’t some of the people here before.”, Phoenix says before starting to make a tour of the room.

“And that is Bob, my new WSO!”, she says, and you smile at the shy man, he smiles back, and you know that he is probably going to be quite the competition.

“I think we’ve met before?”, you can’t help but ask Bob and he nods after a moment.

“Deployment in Nebraska.”, you think about it before smiling at the memory.

“That’s right! Cain was something.”, you say trying not to grimace but Bob chuckles and nods in agreement.

“Glad to be away from that!”, before you can say anything else you hear the music stop suddenly and see Rooster at the piano.

“Does he do that often?”, you ask Phoenix, and she lets out a sigh.

“Unfortunately, yes, but he has the talent for it.”, she shrugs her shoulders before joining the rest, but you just shake your head in amusement and leave towards the patio outside.

Someone gets thrown outside and you can’t help but smile at Penny’s rules, that woman had always fascinated you. You hear footsteps behind you, and you assume it’s Steph that has finally arrived, but you turn around to see Jake. He looks unsure, it’s a far different look from the one he had in there a minute ago, looking so cocky and arrogant. He looks so much younger when he looks at you with those sad green eyes, shoulders hunched like he is trying to hide himself.

“Hangman.”, you say after a long silence of looking at each other, unable to say his name.

“Fire.”, there is a silence that follows before Jake takes a deep breath.

“You look good.”, he says, and you smile sadly at him.

“I’m good, better than last time we saw each other.”, you whisper but Jake seems to have heard it as he flinches slightly at the words.

“I was hoping we could talk?”, he asks so quietly that you nearly didn’t hear him, but you do and you feel your heart beating faster but the hurt that comes up takes over.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”, he nods, looking dejected at the floor.

“I – I just can’t do this again.”, you whisper, and he nods in answer, still looking at the floor his hands in his pockets.

“I understand.”, he croaks out and a pained smile appears, making your heart clench painfully.

He leaves and you try not to call him back, because as much as you tried to tell yourself you didn’t care anymore you still did.

Warlock is giving his speech and you try to listen, but you are too busy trying to fight the feelings that are coming back up at the sight of Jake in his flight suit, flashbacks of soft kisses and giggles in the corners of the hallway making you grip your pen tighter.

“Captain Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick.”, this makes you look up, feeling like someone has thrown an ice bucket over you and you silently pray it’s a joke.

Rooster tenses up next to you and you look at him, he looks back at you and you start to think that you aren’t the only one who didn’t expect this.

Your supposed father arrives in front of the class and smiles at all of you, his smile faltering slightly when it comes to you and Rooster. Jake is looking at you with worried eyes, the only one next to Steph to know your lack of relationship with the captain or your genitor.

As he throws the manual into the bin you can’t help but jump slightly, and as he tells you to suit up you take a moment to collect yourself.

“Fire.”, Jake’s voice stops you into the hallway and you look at him questioningly.

“I- are you okay?”, he asks softly, looking around to make sure no one can hear you.

“Of course, I am, why wouldn’t I be.”, you ask, trying to act like you don’t know what he is talking about, but you know that he can see right through you.

“It’s a lot, just know that I’m here.”, he says, looking hesitant at the end and you try not to let the hope blossoming in your chest getting the best of you.

“I’ll be alright but thank you.”, you say after a moment and turn around, getting in the locker-room to get into your gear.

Rooster seems to be in a tense conversation with your father and you can’t help but quickly pass by them with curious eyes. You didn’t know what was happening there, but it seemed like Rooster was pissed at you father, maybe he was another one of his children that he didn’t reach out to. The thought makes you snort quietly but you put yourself back into the right headspace while looking at your aircraft.

The first two teams are a mess, your father making a quick job of sending them back to the tarmac. Jake leaves Phoenix and Bob hanging, and you can’t help but shake your head at his antics. You would never understand why he did this, trying to be an asshole when he was far from it in reality.

“Fire and Thunder your turn.”, Maverick says, and the rest wishes you good luck, passing Phoenix, Bob and Hangman on the tarmac still doing their pushups.

“Do you see him?”, Thunder asks you and you try to look at your radar, hoping to find something but nothing.

“Nope, the man is like a ghost.”, Thunder let’s out an irritated sigh and you look at her.

“It’s probably a trick, the only way we couldn’t see him on the radar is if he was below us or above us somewhere.”, you tell her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Well, I would prefer it if he didn’t make us waste our time with a trick and got to the dog fighting part.”, before you can respond an F-18 comes up between the two of you making you move.

“Holy shit!”, you hear Thunder say and Maverick chuckles in answer.

“Your wish is my command, Thunder.”, you have just the time to see Thunder’s determined gaze to know that it’s on.

The two of you try to escape him but the old man seems to still have some tricks up his sleeves.

“We need to find a way to get him off our back.”, she tells you and you nod in response, once again avoiding him by a second.

“Let’s do the cat and mouse game.”, she nods in answer before putting herself into a weak position, Maverick seems to fall for the trick and as he puts himself in position to finish her off you fly by blocking his lock and throwing him off just in time for Thunder to pull back and get behind him.

“Shit.”, you hear him whisper and you can’t help but chuckle as Thunder manages to get tone on him.

“Maverick down.”, you say through the comm, Thunder smirking at you before going back to the carrier.

The others are looking at you with equal looks of awe and horror at what you achieved. Maverick arrives a bit after you, looking frustrated.

“Good job Lieutenant, although that was a risky move. If it had been just a second later it could have been dangerous.”, Thunder smirks at him, confidence radiating off her and she just shrugs her shoulders.

“We have been doing this since the academy sir, we knew what we were doing.”, Maverick doesn’t seem pleased but lets the conversation slide. The rest leaves and you turn to do the same thing, but Maverick stops you.

“Could we talk?”, you nod after a moment, wondering what the hell he wanted to talk about.

“You are probably wondering why I asked to talk.”, he says, looking nervous and you nod in answer.

“I – it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other and I was wondering if everything was good between us?”, this makes you snort in answer before looking at him like he was crazy.

“A long time? You stopped reaching out after my fifth birthday and now you are asking if everything is good?”, Maverick looks at the ground ashamed, but you shake your head in disbelief.

“I know, I wasn’t really a good father, and I don’t have an excuse for it, just that there was a lot going on and I had to take care of Bradley.”, you scoff in answer at his excuse.

“You weren’t a father at all. Look, I’m 25 years old now, I don’t need a father. Went my whole life without one, don’t need one now. So why don’t we go back to how it was and let all of this go?”, Maverick looks at you with guilt and sadness in his eyes.

“If that’s what you want.”, he whispers, looking dejected but you try to calm yourself down, knowing that you would say something you would regret.

“I will see you tomorrow then, sir.”, you leave the office and run into a hard chest, green eyes looking back at you, and you are unable to stop the frustrated sigh leaving your lips.

“Are you okay?”, he asks softly.

“I am fine! Alright, just leave me alone Jake, we aren’t together anymore so stop acting like you care.”, you tell him harshly and he flinches, but you leave, feeling the anger and frustration of the talk with your father. Not seeing the heartbroken pilot that you leave behind.

The days go by and every moment in training is rough, but you manage to get through it, Jake keeps his distance like you asked and it feels like a relief but at the same time it’s painful.

His outburst against Rooster makes you look at him in another light, but even as you try to be disgusted by him you can’t help but think he did it on purpose, to push Rooster off that perch.

The only thing Maverick manages to find as a solution is a day at the beach, Thunder grumbles that you all have other things to do but you just shrug your shoulders, thinking that maybe it would do you all some good.

Everyone is already there and as you arrive you see a shirtless Jake. Now you weren’t blind, and that man was sculpted like a Greek god. There was already some sweat on his chest and it made his skin glisten in the sun making feel lightheaded at the sight of it. You try to stop looking but Jake catches you looking, and a confident smirk appears.

The dog fighting football is a mess, but you haven’t had this much fun in years. Running behind each other and trying to make the others fall, while stealing the ball. At one point you think you are going to be doing a touchdown, but someone makes you stumble, and you fall backwards, just caught in time by a smirking Jake.

“Don’t worry, your savior is here.”, you are ready to say something sarcastic in return, but he just puts you back on your feet before taking the ball out of your hands and running away making you look with wide eyes.

“Seresin! You dick!”, everyone starts laughing and you hear Jake’s distinctive laugh, making you feel warm.

“Shouldn’t have gotten distracted.”, he whispers in your ears, and you feel yourself shiver in answer, the smell of his aftershave making your head spin.

The rest of the game is chaotic, and Jake doesn’t stop teasing you, trying to get a reaction out of you.

Frankly Thunder can’t blame you for dragging that cocky pilot to a secluded place and bringing him into a heated kiss. The adrenaline of the last days, the fact that he had been touching you all day long was making you go back in time, and you just needed him. Jake certainly didn’t complain as he immediately kissed back, just as passionately, his hands roaming over your whole body. You stay like that until the two of you have to come back for air and Jake is looking at you with eyes filled with lust and something like love.

“Fuck sweetheart, if I had known that this was the way to get you near me, I would’ve gotten my shirt of sooner.”, he says with a smirk and you are ready to tell him to fuck off before he starts kissing you down your neck, biting softly into the sensitive skin and you try to hold back your moan.

“Jake, we can’t do this here.”, you whisper and he groans, still dropping kisses everywhere he can, and you card your fingers through his hair, pulling on it to make him look at you.

You both look at each other for a moment, your breaths uneven and for a moment you feel unsure.

“Is this a good idea?”, you can’t help but whisper and Jake smiles at you softly.

“Probably not but god I can’t spend another moment without you.”, he tells you and you feel breathless at the words.

“We need to talk afterwards.”, he nods, this time his eyes serious and you nod slowly.

“Good. Now one more thing, I-I haven’t done the deed before.”, you say, grimacing as you tell him that, but Jake has the opposite reaction that thought he would have. His eyes roam over your body before taking your hips and pulling you fully against him, making you gasp.

“You don’t know how much this drives me crazy.”, he says before bringing you into a heated kiss.

“I’m going to make you feel so good sweetheart, so good you will never want anything with anyone else.”, you can only moan in response as he starts kissing your neck again and this time you let yourself completely go.

The sunlight is what wakes you up, strong arms around you and you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“We have an hour until we have to be on base. Thought we could talk.”, Jake says softly, and you turn around to see him looking at you with a tender smile.

“Good thinking.”, you say softly but you don’t know what to say.

“I know last night wasn’t supposed to happen, or at least not in your mind.”, this makes you nod and Jake sighs.

“I’m sorry for everything I did two years ago. I was an idiot and although I can’t take back what I did I don’t think I would take it back.”, this makes you look at him curiously.

“Because otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten to know you like I did.”, the words are raw, honesty in his eyes and you feel breathless.

“Jake-”

“I know, alright, I know. You got hurt and you probably wouldn’t trust me again but I just – I don’t think I can live without you, and I don’t want to try to continue living without you any longer.”, he tells you and you take his hand in yours.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t show you then just how much you meant to me and I’m sorry I didn’t ran after you and fell on my knees to beg you for forgiveness.”, you can’t help but smile at his words.

“You know I thought that I hated you.”, Jake flinches at the words and you squeeze his hand.

“But I guess hating you was just easier then really thinking about how I was feeling. I realized a few months later that I didn’t regret us, even when it ended the way it did. We had some good times, didn’t we?”, Jake nods in answer tears in his eyes mirroring yours.

“I think that even through all of the hurt I never stopped loving you.”, you whisper, and Jake looks at you with wide eyes, before tears roll down his cheeks. You lift up your other hand to brush them away softly.

“I love you so much, you have no idea how much.”, he whispers, and an emotional smile appears at the words.

“I think I do.”, you whisper, brushing a strand of hair back and he closes his eyes, enjoying the touch.

He opens his eyes after a moment and just looks at you before putting his forehead against yours and taking you into his arms.

There are still things to talk about, and there is a far too dangerous mission ahead of you but as Jake holds you close in the early morning you feel more at home then you have been in years.

#top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x y/n

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newjeansimagine · 1 year

Text

5. Amusement park

It was her 4th day in school, and everyone in her class were excited to go on the amusement park tonight, she didn't get why, but it was probably a Korean thing. So during her classes, Y/N could see a greater movement of people talking and planning about the meeting in the park, she also could see some boys and girls flirtting around each other.

She found cute to see that from her place, but during a pause between classes, she saw a pretty boy enter the room and go to that girl she stumbled in the hallaway. He had a brush and wrote something on the girl's hand, who was sitting in her chair looking at him with a confused look. Everyone was looking at them in silence, and when the boy just left the class, the murmurs started.

Y/N kept staring at that rude girl even after the boy was gone. She looked the same tho, the same shiny hair, and the same soft makeup as the day they faced each other. But something in her expression was diferent, maybe it was because she never saw the girl's cheeks this red. By the way the girl treated y/n yesterday, she didn't thought she was the shy type.

"Ugh, apparently love is in the air" Wonyoung said by her side, refering about the scene.

"Yeah" Y/N smiled a little, her eyes not moving from the girl who sitted up front to her.

It didn't went unnoticed by Wonyoung.

"Well, I'm pretty sure Minji is not interested in dating anyone right now, she is too focused on studies." Wonyoung said, part of her comment coming from a place of curiosity about Y/N's answer.

"Minji..." y/n said, clearing her throat and looking away from the girl to look at Wonyoung. "Is that her name?"

Wonyoung gave her a little smile, as if she had revealed something.

"Yes, we also have music class together, she's very talented". Wonyoung kept saying and Y/N's eyes just went back to her, only to stare at her hair falling down her back.

"I bet she is" y/n said, not mentionig their accident on the previous day.

After exchanging numbers, Wonyoung sent her the time and place to meet later that day. When Y/N got home, she told her parents that she was going out with some friends, and noticed how happy and relieved they were that she had already made some friends, but after she thought for a while, she realized that until now, only Wonyoung had been nice with her. She noticed that day that her other friends on the lunch table didn't talked to her. Wonyoung was the only one.

Avoiding overthinking, Y/N looked in her wardrobe what could be best outfit for the occasion. She wanted something nice but simple, something stylish but not looking like she tried too hard. So when she found the perfect look, her serotonin returned to her brain and she began to get ready, feeling good about that night. Her cell phone beeped, notifying a message, when she took the phone on her hands and went down the stairs of her house, she read Wonyoung's message.

Y/N smiled a little for the phone and started to text back.

When she arrived the amusement park, she looked a little for her new friend and gave her a little smile.

"Thank god, you here" she said in a cute way.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, relax" she said, following the other.

The night was actually pleasant. They took some rides, ate some food and talked a lot. Her friends talked to y/n in a friendly way, she felt they were starting to accepting her. But wasn't sure about it, she could feel some of them exchanging glances like an inside joke.

When they made a pause, they just saw another group of friends getting off the ferris wheel. Suddenly the groups started to mix, everyone knew each other and y/n was the new girl again.

"Hanni!" Wonyoung said, going to a short girl who had some braids, kinda lefting Y/N alone.

Y/N smiled, she was fine, it was not like everyone were talking and she was there standing.... not knowing what to do.

Y/n just leaned against some railing she found, watching the friends talk between each other, so she grabbed her phone avoiding the social awkwardness, and started do read the recent texts from her friends from Australia. She missed them so much, she wishes they were here now.

A loud smile took her concentration off the screen, and made her look to the side only to find that green haired boy holding the girl's… Minji's… drink in his hands as she tried to take it back. Y/N couldn't say why she rolled her eyes at the scene.

"Give it back" Minji said picking up her drink and lightly pushing the boy.

"Give it back" Y/N whispered to herself in a high tone, mimicking the other. She was so annoyed about that scene that she didn't even noticed Wonyoung and two other girls were getting close to her.

"Y/N" Wonyoung said, taking her attention of her phone "this is Hanni unnie, and this is Dani, Hanni is in our class too" .

The other ones looked at her with a smile. One of the girls was shorter than Y/N, and the other one - Danielle- was the same high as her, both of them cute but very pretty, Y/N was starting to get annoyed about how pretty everyone there was.

She gave the girls a minimal smile.

"I'm Y/N" she said, for some reason, a little serious, maybe because of that gross scene she saw before.

"I heard you're Australian" Danielle said first. Dhe had a very sweet voice. "So is Hanni".

Y/N looked at the shorter one a little surprised. She didn't looked foreign at all.

"Really?" she sighed in relief "its really nice to find someone from where I came".

Hanni smiled, and nodded.

"You have a way better korean than I had when I get here" she joked and y/n smiled a little, thankful for the compliment.

Danielle looked at some girls that were behind her.

"Those weirdos here are our best friends, Hyein and Haerin, they're a little shy." She said, pointing at them, so y/n could see.

Y/N recognized one of the girls, the tall one was the one she saw hiding behind the walls yesterday, the other one had such a pretty face, she looked so shy when Y/N glared at her.

Y/N just waved at them, but both just seemed to blush hard. She smiled a little, trying to understand.

"Cute" y/n said, smiling at how both were apparently whispering to each other about her.

"Let's be friends!" Danielle said out of nothing, taking one of Y/N's hands.

"Calm down Dani" Hanni said, looking at the friend who looked too excited to care.

"Sooo, how do you feel, being new in a new country?" Danielle said, taking some steps back, a little embarassed

"Well" y/n said, thinking about it. "It's nice, I'm just little bad at Korean" she joked, choosing not to say how hard it has being for her.

"Don't worry" Hanni said, smiling at her. "You already great at it".

Y/N felt so good about that conversation, it was so fun when Danielle asked for her number, she looked so excited for some reason. And it was so funny that as soon as Danielle asked for it, Hyein asked Y/N if she could text her too. They were really cute.

"Oh, you only have to meet Minji now" Hanni said, taking Danielle's and Y/N attention. Mo Jihye looked at Hanni with a weird expression and the shorter just raised an eyebrow.

"She seens busy tho" Wonyoung said, looking at Minji and then looking at Y/N, watching her expressions by the scene of Minji closely talking to the boy.

For some reason Y/N couldn't take her eyes out of them tho, she felt dizzy for no reason at all.

"They make a good couple" y/n said, automatically hearing a few laughs from the taller girl - Hyein - who was quietly listening to the conversation next to Haerin. "Did I said something I shoudn't?" She asked the girl.

Hyein seemed too stunned to speak. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, then she finally said.

"Minji unnie and him are not a couple" she said, shyly.

"Yet" Haerin said by side louder than she expected, Y/N looked at her and she just blushed, looking at every direction but hers.

After some good laughs the rest of the night was really funny. Y/N had so much fun, she asked all the girl's number so they could talk lately. She thought Haerin and Hyein would pass out at how red their face got when she asked them. Y/N couldn't get tired of how cute they were.

Eventually, some of the girls were going home and gave their last goodbyes. Y/N hugged all the new friends she made.

During it tho, she felt her back burning and when she turned all she could see was Minji's eyes flaming in her direction.

Now it was only her and Hanni, her dad just texted saying he was about to arrive when y/n was saying goodbye to the short one.

She smiled at Hanni, but the back of her neck prickled when she heard footsteps approaching and someone whispering sarcastically next to her.

"Hanni unnie, I see that you made a new friend" she said, taking the girls attention.

Minji was close to Y/N, and maybe she shouldn't be so close to her, because, when Y/N turned back, her body just stumbled at the drink Minji was holding in her hand, pouring all the green liquid over the two, leaving them soaked.

"Oh, shit" Hanni said, watching both of the girls get all wet because of the - now second - accident they have.

All the girls let out are exclamations of surprise. Minji outraged face were looking at her shirt all wet. Y/N situation wasn't the best also, the drink entered through her blouse, wetting her entire torso.

Y/N looked at Minji, who was frozed. Hanni walked away saying she would get some napkins from a nearby stall to help them. It was just an accident, but Y/N felt so bad about it.

She took of a handkerchief from her pocket, approaching Minji to help her clean her shirt. Her attitude was unexpected by Minji, suddenly, Y/N was so close to her that Minji could feel her breath on her face. Minji shivered a little, she couldn't tell if it was because of the cold drink itself, or if it was because of the intense look that Y/N was giving at her shirt, so focused that she didn't even realized how close they were.

Trying to do her best to dry her shirt, Y/N opened her mouth to apologize but it was too late, Minji were already fumy. And when Y/N finally looked to Minji's face, so close that the other could see the details in her orbits, all Minji did was to roll her eyes.

"Why don't you just go back to your country?" She whispered, making Y/N let go off the girl's wet shirt she was trying to clean, and take two steps back, staring at Minji with pure shock, while all Minji did was to walk away from her, leaving a confused Y/N behind.

materialist | prev | next

#minji imagines #minji x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans scenarios #newjeans x reader #kim minji #minji new jeans #nwjns minji

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iguana-eyanna · 6 months

Text

NCIS: Roy Pt. 1

You can't remember the last time you had a peaceful sleep.

Maybe since you've been sleeping in your lab all day, trying to find a cure for your friend, Roy.

Roy Sanders, the golden Navy Lieutenant. You often teased him about how he was like Superman with his righteous personality and piercing blue eyes. He just laughed it as he gave you his blinding smile.

He still smiled even when someone close to his work tried to poison him.

It started off small, thought he had a fever and just needed to rest. He had to stop jogging his route near the capital. But one night, he came to your door, eyes bloodshot as he lost his breath.

"I don't trust anyone but you."

He confided in you about the work he was investigating in and that someone in his agency is trying murder him as he got closer in his investigation. You told him he should go to NCIS himself to help him, and stop the person who's doing this to him.

"Let's go to my lab, I'll figure out what's going on with a blood sample and I'll find a cure."

"No don't, I'll go to NCIS tomorrow. They'll help me."

"Roy, you can barely keep your eyes open. What makes you think I'm going to stand idly and watch you die?"

"Because I don't want you blaming yourself that you couldn't save me in time!" He raised his voice.

It was the first time you ever see him so angry, but he was right. You would have blamed yourself every day that you're the one breathing and he wasn't.

"I have to at least try."

He pondered till he nodded his head, agreeing that you would help him. He knew you would go against the laws of science just so he could have a future.

Now you're at your lab, waiting for the test results if your serum could deteriorate the Thallium that was in his bloodstream. You consulted with Abby Sciuto, the forensic scientist at NCIS, and compared notes.

She saw how determined you were to save your friend, but she knew deep down there was more than what you were saying.

You loved Roy.

Ever since you moved to DC, Roy was the first friend you made when you met him at a conference. You loved how positive he was and made every effort to make a difference in the world.

Then suddenly, you heard a beeping noise from the machine that was formulating if the serum was working. You flutter your eyes in confusion till you rush over, looking at the paper that printed the results. You scanned over the stats, muttering what the results were telling you.

You look up from the paper and raced towards your phone, dialing Abby's phone number.

"Abby, I need your help."

Your heels clicked loudly in the hallway as you searched for Roy's room. Then, you see Ziva outside of a door, looking at everyone suspiciously.

"Hi, Ziva? I'm-"

"The doctor friend of Lieutenant Sanders. Yes, Abby informed me."

"Then you know that I have the antidote." You said, holding the protective case that held the vials.

"Has it been tested before?" she asks.

"Not exactly-"

"Doctor, I don't doubt your work but if it's not tested, I cannot allow you to worsen Lieutenant Sander's state." Ziva replied, trying for you to step aside.

"Ziva please! Wouldn't you do anything to save the person you love? I have to do this. Either I give him this serum without knowing whether he's going to live or see him slowly die without even trying." You said, your voice thinning.

Ziva looks at you, seeing how much you cared for Roy.

"Alright, I'll call his doctors to help administer the medicine."

She stepped aside as she went to look for them and you look through the window seeing Roy.

He looked paler and even tired and looked... looked like he was just waiting to die. You turn the knob and you walked quietly inside while he slept. You sat in the chair, feeling your palms clammy, trying to calm your nerves.

"You know, I think I have to buy you quieter shoes." Roy said.

You look up and see Roy awake.

"You knew that was me?"

"People could hear your heels in the hall from Canada." Roy joked, making you laugh.

You scoot closer as you hold his hand.

"How are you?"

He shrugs slightly as he gives you a small smile.

"Tired, but I feel I have a few good days in me."

"Don't say that, Roy. You're going to get better." You said.

"All the doctors have told me that I'm not going to live past this month. It's too late now. I've already accepted it, so should you."

You shake your head, feeling the tears go down your face.

"So me being confined in my lab to find a cure for you was for nothing, Roy? I'm not giving up on you like every goddamn doctor in this hospital. You prove them wrong. You're going to walk out of this hospital with a second chance of life. You're going to run your daily morning jogs you've desperately wanted me to join with you."

Roy chuckles, remebering that you'd refuse to wake up at 4 in the morning to run around D.C.

He then turns his head, his eyes growing with doubt and worry.

"I'm dead weight. You need- to move on. Settle down, get a dog, and have that white picket fence life. You should let me go." He said, saying this last part with a whisper.

"I can't do that, Roy."

"Why?"

"Because I- I love you goddamnit." You said, raising your voice.

He was silent, and you stood up, pacing in the small room.

"You know, it was hard to just keep my feelings by myself for the longest time. But I was scared that- that I was going to lose my best friend... whether if I told you how I felt or this-" You gestured around you.

"and I know you don't feel the same way-"

"Who said I didn't?" He asks.

You stop, looking at him by the foot of the bed.

"I'm sorry?"

He chuckles lightly, giving you a cheesy smirk.

"You know, for someone who brags about being the smartest person in the room, you really can't see the answer in front of you."

He tried sitting up, but his strength gave out, so you rushed to his side as you helped him.

"Guess I was scared too of saying something. I trust you with my life but I couldn't have the guts to ask you out."

For some reason, both of you began to laugh at yourselves.

"What is it with us?" You said, sitting on the side of his bed.

"I don't know, but we have impeccable timing." He said, placing his hand on his side. You reached out and intertwined his hand with yours.

Suddenly, Ziva came in with his doctors looking a bit grim.

"It's time for the trial"

After the doctors did the procedure, you cuddled with Roy before heading to sleep. Even if visitors should have left hours ago, Ziva pulled some strings. She was happy to see Roy more hopeful than ever.

Both of you were trying to stay awake, having so much to talk about, but your eyes kept fluttering.

"Promise me... you'll wake up with me in the morning." You whispered.

Roy wasn't so sure of making an empty promise, as the warnings for the antidote would either be a 50/50 chance. But he kissed your temple as he held you in his arms.

"I promise I'll be right here."

Both of you dozed off that night, and both of you were filled with uncertainty and fear.

But one thing is for sure.

Roy would fight for one more day if he could spend it with you.

#roy sanders #roy sanders x reader #friends to lovers #friends to lovers trope #ncis reader #ncis #ncis fanfiction #ncis x reader #ncis roy sanders x reader

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pedroschka · 1 year

Text

SHOTS!

Joseph Quinn x reader

Summary: you find yourself in a bar taking shots with Joseph Quinn and leaving with his phone number

words: 1,5 k

A/n: felt inspired by the Spain Story to finally start writing again! Big Thanks to @icallhimjoey for giving my brain a kick to keep me on track, much love!

Unsure of what distraction you wanna go after at the moment you lay cuddled up on your couch and switching between scrolling through your phone and watching some sitcom playing on the TV, which occasionally gets an amused Snort out of you.

It was Saturday and after an exhausting week, you told yourself that you needed a weekend for yourself and maybe clean up your flat, do the dishes, bring out the trash or do some sport. But this was another you plans which has no similarity to this you who was scrolling through memes for over two hours now, with trash and dishes still happily lying in the kitchen, untouched.

A new notification stirred you out of your trance-like state and you saw that one of your friends send you a message with a picture attached to it

- " Isn't this that bloke you're obsessed with the whole summer?? We're partying with him he's buying everyone shots!!! "

- image attached -

No fucking way.

You abruptly sat up, clinging to your phone with sweaty hands and zooming in on the picture with shaking fingers. There he was, Joseph fucking Quinn in the same bar as your friends, which you canceled on because of your stupid healthy second personality.

- " holy shit no way, I'm coming over!! Nobody fucking moves!!" you quickly type back

TV and phone forgotten and with a blanket still tangled around your legs, you stumbled through your flat to make yourself somewhere decent looking in record time, because no way are you meeting your celebrity crush for over 6 months in your pyjamas.

Surprised by yourself and the uber system you achieved to stand approximately thirty minutes after you received the text message, in front of the dimly lit bar from which a remarkable amount of chatter is coming off already, busy night for sure

You wriggled your way through drunk people towards your group of friends who already are beckoning you over with tipsy waving.

'' you got to be kidding me, the one weekend I cancel on you my future husband is in the same fucking bar! " you babble straight away, your way of greeting.

" Either he wants us all to know that he's rich or that he's British " "or both" "but this man actually turned on a timer and every 20 minutes he's giving out shots" two of your friends giving you a recap of what happened in your absence

" we already got our rounds from him, you want some? " your other friend asks, and you looked at her with wide eyes and then at the table with a round of tequila shots, most of them already empty. Nodding quickly and right away drowned two tequila shots, desperate for some drunk confidence. Screwing your eyes shut for a second, embracing the burning feeling going down your throat

"holy shit, I can't believe he's really here"

" well let's go, talk to him"

Looking at her like she grew three heads " what... What do I even say to him?! Hello, I cried harder over Eddie's death than at my grandma's funeral?!"

" I bet he's already so drunk that he would just say thank you and offer you another shot"

Taking a big breath and focusing your eyes on the man in question at the center of the bar, a mop of tousled curls surrounded by a group of apparently other fans or just people who gladly engage with him in exchange for free booze.

Taking all your courage, and with shaking legs you made your way to the counter, sweaty hands grabbing the edge of it, just to have something to hold onto. You stand now only a few meters away from the very man you watched interviews of at 2am while giggling like an idiot.

Just as you rummage your brain for a charming but funny way to grab his attention, a shrill beeping sound went off, making you jump a little, and he suddenly swirled around, big brown eyes meeting yours, and shouted " SHOTS! " right at your face.

and before you know it you stand in a bar, in the middle of sweaty and drunk people taking tequila shots with Joseph Quinn.

Take that for a first impression.

Slamming the shot glass a little too hard on the counter and giving a comically 'whoop' from him, a few drops of tequila running down his chin you seriously asked yourself why the hell you were so nervous to meet him because now he reminded you more of your drunk uncle when watching sports games. But instead of your uncle, Joseph Quinn managed to look hot even when swaying and alcohol breath coming off from him, or you just were already in too deep.

" hi I'm Joe!" he shouted at you over the noise

As if he needed to introduce himself you thought but told him your name

"I don't live under a rock I recognize the man of the year when he stands in front of me"

"Oh shut up" he snorts a bashful smile on his face now

" no you are very subtle about it, even got a shot timer and everything! " you both started giggling and his hand finds balance on your arm like you didn't just meet each other 5 minutes ago

"in my defense..." he holds up his finger but dropped It again as nothing comes to his mind "I don't know I guess I'm just very British" and you both started giggling again. Intoxicated minds turning everyone into a stand-up comedian and best friend for one night.

After a few more drunk small talk and giggling you looked at him wide-eyed like a light bulb just went off inside your head

"ohh by the way British, I'm actually in London next month! Let's meet up!! " your voice getting louder with your enthusiasm and his eyes grew even wider at your information

"fuck you're kidding! That's awesome! We should totally hang, wait imma give you my number so you can text when you're there yeah?!"

You both fumbled with your phones, squinting at the sudden brightness and trying to make out the blurry numbers. Both way too excited over the possibility of meeting up again.

Right after, the next alarm comes off from Joe's phone and you linked your arms together and gulped each other's shots.

As the night continues you both lose count and conversations turned indefinite and slurred until you both part ways with the promise to meet each other again and a toddler-like hug, literally just holding onto each other so nobody falls.

...

You woke up the next morning and wished you wouldn't wake up at all anymore, glad you're actually lying in your own bed with clothes on but with what reward?! The biggest headache you ever felt and vomit already crawling up your throat. Hangovers were no fun but especially not after reaching the age of over twenty.

Around noon you felt good enough to finally check your phone, maybe it can help to fill your missing memories from last night if you even wanted to know.

The first thing you saw was a new message from your friend with an image attached to it, deja vu

"oh no" you mumbled shocked as some memories came back to you, very surreal memories!

In the picture, you and Joseph fucking Quinn, linking arms and taking a shot

Your friend's message under it

- '' thought you wanted to frame this <3"

Idiot.

Hastily scrolling through your contacts, not sure if your memories are wishful thinking or reality and in fact, under the letter J was a new contact

- Joeeeeee q.

Your stupid ass remembers telling him to put the Q behind his name so you can remember which one he is. As if you know so many other Joe's.

Now panic. You have joseph Quinn's number. Result of a very drunken night. Which he for sure doesn't remember. Does it even matter if you write him, He probably won't respond. You could just enjoy it and live in a daydream about him like all the other days before.

But otherwise...

You're staring at the message you typed in and your thumb hovers over the send button... It's now or never

- " was a pleasure to meet the man of the year last night! I don't remember much and you surely even less but I think we wanted to meet up next month when I'm in London" With your name under it, on second thought you even send the image your friend made of you both right after it.

Right after you click send you made an inhuman squeak sound, chuck your phone away from you and throw yourself face down on your bed again, face squished in a pillow and regretting every life decision you ever made.

After doing literally anything to busy yourself the Bing for a new notification on your phone makes you stop in your tracks while holding a now clean dish in your hand

"Please let this be mum, please let this be mum" mumbling under your breath while speedwalking into your bedroom again, anxiety unbearable

Taking a deep breath and opening your phone you saw that it was in fact not your mum writing you

- "you're right I don't remember shit, feeling like it too. How are you doing?"

-" do I really look like that when taking a shot?! "

From Joeeeeee q.

(reblogs and comments are very appreciated additional to your likes)

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic #fanfiction #drunk joe quinn

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bamdelune · 11 months

Text

In Hindsight 🎼 bonus chapter: "in bitterness comes fruit"

notes. cw: takes place in ch. 11, drinking (as I stated before, all characters are legal), a little bit of angst, slightly rushed, open ending until the chapter 12.

The sound of glasses clinking together resonate throughout the restaurant Aether has picked. You look around, it seemed like every other exhausted university student had the same idea as your group.

"No anything over budget, else I will punch you in the nose." Aether quipped, giving Lumine a glaring side-eye beside him to which she responds with a shrug.

All of you went over budget, perhaps just a wee bit.

Maybe 60 dollars over the set limit...

By the end of it, everyone except Xinyan was already slurring their sentences in alcoholic bliss. Aether and Lumine was singing a duet to a song in humurously horrible way, whilst you only obnoxiously laugh at their antics which was enough to revertebrate through the walls of the restaurant. A few sober customers look your group's booth way in concern while the slightly tipsy ones silently cheer.

Xinyan could only sigh at the sight of this mess, she wasn't sure how she was going to get all three of you in the car without trouble because even you were drunk.

She feels a tap on her shoulder, it was you. Xinyan notes the slight pink that dusted over your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

" 'Yan, my baby..." you tipsily drag your words, cradling her soft cheeks with your hands and pulling them slightly. "I'm sorryy.."

Xinyan quirks an eyebrow up in confusion, a smile on her face "For what, (Name)?"

You pout slightly in reply, your eyes lowering as if in shame, "Turns out [hic] I haven't got that much time left."

Your best friend was still confused by the time you provided an answer, "Time for what? What's going on?"

"Wah... my condition got worse." You sigh defeatedly. Xinyan's eyes widen, her face immediately dropping to a half panicked, half crestfallen expression. She doesn't dare say anything.

How could she have not noticed? All the times you had to excuse yourself to go to sleep early. All the times you always came along with your friend group's shenanigans despite looking like a ghost who just crawled out of a demon's asscrack. Those were all tell-tale signs she wishes she could've seen earlier. Xinyan doesn't want to ask how much you have left. She gets sick at the thought, she knows she won't feel good to always count down the days until one of her favorite people was gone.

Xinyan tries to muster a forced smile despite her thoughts, "I think that's enough to drink for today. I'll call Kunikuzushi to help you out." The girl mentally prays that Kunikuzushi won't bite her for this, for calling at almost midnight to pick up her dying friend. She whips out her phone and dials Kunikuzushi's number.

When Xinyan hears a click from the other line, she doesn't give him much time to greet the phone.

"Hi, it seems that your patient and friend here has gotten shit-faced drunk. I'm gonna need you to come pick her up since I got two other drunken headaches to take care of."

Xinyan gets fidgety over the silence on the other line, Kunikuzushi has always scared him even if she had no reason to.

"Send your location, I'll be there in ten." He bluntly replies before the call ends with a beep. Xinyan pulls the phone away from her ear to see you having a wrestling contest with Aether and somehow, Lumine. She purses her lips at the sight, wondering if you would've ever told the group if you were sober.

—

When Kunikuzushi pulls up on the street in front of the restaurant, he gets out and bursts through the double glass doors of the entrance, immediately searching for you. His eyes scan the tables until they land on your sunken form in one seat, your head rested on Lumine's shoulder as the twins and you sang a few songs off-tune. His initially panicked expression drops into a softened one at the sight. You were okay, and that's all that mattered.

To him, as a medical practitioner, of course. Nothing more.

The young man makes his way to your table and meets Xinyan's exhausted expression,

"Take them, I need to drive the twins back." She sighs as she places a few bills on the table to pay for the meal and slinging the arms of the twins on her shoulder.

His eyes widen, "What?" He wasn't sure what ge felt about the proposal. "Would they be okay with it? I mean it's not everyday people take their... actually, nevermind." He breathes dejectedly.

"Come on, (Name)." Kuni says as if he's a nagging parent.

You look up at him with a flushed face, obviously still drunk before breaking into a toothy grin, "Kuni! You're here!" He feels you wrap your arms around his neck to encase him in a tight hug. The guy feels his face heat up almost instantly, thanking the archons that Xinyan has already left you two by the booth and therefore, he has no witnesses to whatever embarrassing expression he was sporting at the moment. He smells the dizzying scent of the alcohol you had earlier and scrunches his face a little in distaste.

"Let go," Kunikuzushi groans but he would be lying if he said he relished in the feeling of a warm embrace, your warm embrace. "I need to get you home so you don't empty your dinner on me, damn."

When he slings your arm around his shoulder, you take a moment to adore his features and blurt out something that makes his heart jump.

"You're so pretty, Kuni. Do you know that?" You say with a small laugh, tracing your free hand on his nose as the both of you walkes. He swears he could hear his heart explode.

It shouldn't be his reaction, though.

You shouldn't be making him feel like this, though.

This was getting bad, he needed to drive you home safely. One more second of being with you in your tipsy state, he would've started rethinking everything.

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as life begins to seep out of your own body? (scaramouche x gn!reader)

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

taglist. (status: open) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @br0oke96 @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee @lazy-sanns @sakurapeach @sheraffim @vxmp-loml @sukunasrealgf @sleepning @yukiipc @thenightsflower @aqvvas (comment/send an ask to be added or removed, please let me know if i forgot to add you since my notification feed can be flooded sometimes!)

masterpost ★ masterlist © bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 2) Chapter Six

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Six: Broken Code

Summary: Irene has returned, and Sherlock and (Y/N) face a puzzle that could destroy years of work.

One wakeup call, shower, and change of clothes later, Irene was sitting across from Sherlock and (Y/N) in the living room as John hovered awkwardly in the kitchen.

“So who’s after you?” asked Sherlock.

“People who want to kill me,” said Irene.

“Who’s that?” repeated Sherlock.

“Killers,” said Irene casually.

“Being more specific would be more helpful,” remarked (Y/N).

“So you faked your death to get ahead of them,” said Sherlock.

“It worked for a while,” said Irene, smirking.

“Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore, us,” said Sherlock.

“I knew you’d keep my secret,” said Irene.

“You couldn’t,” said Sherlock.

“But you did.” Irene smirked. “Now, where’s my camera phone?”

“It’s not here. We’re not stupid,” said John.

“Then what have you done with it?” asked Irene. “If they’ve guessed you’ve got it, they’ll be watching you.”

“If they’ve been watching us, they’ll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago,” said Sherlock.

A good diversion. Let them break into that instead of here, thought (Y/N). But I have a feeling Sherlock’s just going to hand it over to see what happens with this case.

“I need it,” said Irene.

“Well, we can’t just go and get it, can we?” said John, crossing his arms. “Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart’s. Then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back.”

“Very good, John,” said Sherlock. “Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions.”

“Thank you. So, why don’t—Oh, for the love of God,” groaned John as Sherlock pulled out the phone and handed it to Irene.

Knew it, thought (Y/N). “What do you have on there?” they asked.

“Pictures, information, anything I might find useful,” said Irene evasively.

“What, for blackmail?” asked John.

“For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be,” said Irene.

“I guess when you mess with powerful people you need to have security,” murmured (Y/N).

Irene nodded. “I like to slap them around, but I’d prefer them to not slap around me.”

“So, how do you acquire this information?” questioned Sherlock.

“I told you, I misbehave,” said Irene with a smirk and a wink.

“You accidentally got something that’s more danger than protection, didn’t you?” asked (Y/N), leaning forward.

Irene chuckled and smiled. It was softer, less conniving. If Sherlock was correct (and he would say he always was), he would say Irene seemed to like (Y/N). “Clever kid,” she said. “Yes, I did. Problem is: I don’t understand it.”

“Show us,” said (Y/N).

Irene reached out, but Sherlock held the phone out of her reach. “The passcode.” Irene just stared at him until Sherlock handed her the phone.

She frowned as she typed in a code. “It’s not working.”

Sherlock grabbed the phone back. “No, because it’s a duplicate that I made, into which you’ve just entered the numbers 1-0-5-8. I assumed you’d choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway.” Sherlock pulled out the real phone and typed in the code. The phone beeped angrily.

(Y/N) recognized it from his first attempt. This code wasn’t correct, either. And now only one try was left. If they got it wrong, the phone would destroy itself.

Dammit. Irene is clever. It’s impressive but annoying because she’s outplaying us. (Y/N) shivered. Moriarty outplayed us, too… Now that really ruined their mood.

“I told you that camera phone was my life,” said Irene. “I know when it’s in my hand.”

“You’re good,” admitted (Y/N).

“You did your best,” said Irene. She smiled playfully. “And I’m sure you’ll get another chance to prove your prowess.” She held her hand out, and Sherlock begrudgingly handed over the real phone. “There was man, an MOD official,” explained Irene as she unlocked the phone and began going through its contents. “I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn’t know it, but I photographed it. He was a bit…tied up at the time.” She smirked before holding out the photo to (Y/N) and Sherlock. “It’s a bit small on that screen, but you can read it.”

(Y/N) peered at the email curiously. They wanted to know what all the hubbub was about. What was the email that was going to save the world?

007 Confirmed allocation 4C12C45F13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K

(Y/N)’s mind automatically began dissecting and reassembling the string of numbers and letters in multiple attempts to decode the meaning.

“A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it, though he was mostly upside down as I recall. Couldn’t figure it out,” said Irene. “What can you do, Sherlock, (Y/N)? Impress me.”

(Y/N) rearranged it. Seat numbers—Passenger jet—flight from Heathrow—007—They furrowed their brow. 007? Where have I heard 007? What’s that reminding me of? They were so absorbed trying to figure out what they were missing that they didn’t notice Sherlock beginning to speak.

“There’s a margin for error, but we’re pretty sure there’s a 747 leaving Heathrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore,” said Sherlock. John’s face was blank, and Irene had raised her brow. Sherlock nodded to (Y/N). “They get it.”

“Huh?” said (Y/N), blinking as they were pulled from their mind.

“It’s a flight,” said Sherlock.

“Oh, yeah, it is,” agreed (Y/N). They cleared their throat. “The numbers aren’t a code—they’re seat allocations. There’s no letter ‘I’ because it could be mistaken for a one, ‘K’ is the width of the plane, some groupings of numbers are seats grouped together, like couples or families. Only a jumbo jet is wide enough to need a letter ‘K’ or rows past fifty-five, which is why there’s always an upstairs. There’s a row thirteen, which eliminates the more suspicious airlines.” They paused as their mind circled back to the 007 number and the memory it was triggering, but Sherlock nodded at them to continue. And they wouldn’t disappoint him. “Then there’s the style of the flight number, 007, that eliminates a few more. And assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from the Heathrow airport.”

They frowned. “But—007…Why is that bugging me?” they murmured.

John and Irene sat there, stunned. Sherlock grinned proudly. (Y/N) tapped the table angrily as the 007 number itched at them.

“Please don’t feel obligated to tell us that was remarkable or amazing. John’s expressed the same thought in every possible variant available in the English language,” said Sherlock. He was supremely proud with how well (Y/N) had done. His brow furrowed slightly, though, seeing (Y/N)’s frustrated expression. Something was off, and they could sense it.

“Wow. You’re completely right,” said John. He held up his phone. “Flight 007 from Heathrow to Baltimore.”

“Damn it!” shouted (Y/N) suddenly. They stood up and turned on Irene, who was busy typing away on her phone. “No!” They grabbed for the phone, but Irene dodged.

The telltale whoosh of a message sending answered them, and Irene switched off her phone, shrugging. “Sorry, dear. You’re clever, but that wasn’t quick enough.”

(Y/N) turned to Sherlock, eyes wide. “Sherlock—007. ‘Bond Air is go.’ ”

Sherlock sucked in a breath. Mycroft’s operation. They had just explained his entire operation to a woman who could now bring the entire British government to its knees. Sherlock could see (Y/N)’s nerves getting the better of them, and he cursed himself for pushing them to continue the deduction. He should have realized something was the matter when they did and stopped the whole thing.

“Is something the matter?” asked John.

“Nothing that matters now,” said Sherlock. They couldn’t change what had happened. Hopefully, however, Mycroft would figure out a solution to save his operation. He waved a hand at John. “Just go to work.”

“Right…” said John uncertainly, but he left anyway.

“I should have realized. I should have stopped speaking when I realized something was wrong,” muttered (Y/N).

Sherlock shook his head and knelt by them. “No. It’s not your fault. I pushed you to keep solving the code. I should have noticed something was wrong and stopped you. I’m the one with more experience.”

Irene grinned. “I needed intelligent people, and you both delivered.”

(Y/N)’s narrowed, and they glared at Irene. That was it. They were going to destroy whatever she had planned.

A knock sounded at the door, and it swung open to reveal an government official. The repercussions of Irene’s actions were arriving.

“Have you come to take us away?” asked Sherlock, standing up.

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” said the official.

“Well, I decline,” said Sherlock.

The man pulled out an envelope and handed it to Sherlock. “I don’t think so.” (Y/N) looked over Sherlock’s shoulder as he opened the envelope and found to airplane tickets.

“Tata,” said Irene, smirking and waving her hand.

(Y/N)’s gaze was cold. They knew she’d be joining them soon. Unfortunately, it would be on her own terms. (Y/N) turned away and followed Sherlock to the dark car.

As they drove, Sherlock spoke, “There’s going to be a bomb on a passenger jet. The British and American governments know about it, but rather than expose the source of that information, they’re going to let it happen. The plan will blow up. Coventry all over again. The wheels turn. Nothing is ever new.”

No one answered, but (Y/N)’s mind was racing. There was more to this than just a bomb. Mycroft was cold and aloof, but he was smart. He’d have a way to not sacrifice so many lives. And they had probably ruined. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. It just gave them more motivation to take down Irene.

At the airport, Sherlock and (Y/N) exited the vehicle and walked towards the 747 Jumbo Jet. Agent Neilson of the CIA stood at the base of the steps.

“Well, you’re looking all better. How’re you feeling?” asked Sherlock pointedly.

�� “Like putting a bullet in both of your brains,” said Neilson. He watched them walk up the steps. “And they’d pin a medal on me if I did.”

Sherlock’s hand went to (Y/N)’s shoulder and guided them into the plane. He wouldn’t let Neilson threaten them a third time. Inside the plane, (Y/N) and Sherlock walked through the corridors. Bodies were lined up in seats but…they were just that—bodies. They were dead.

So that’s Mycroft’s solution, thought (Y/N).

“The Coventry conundrum,” said Mycroft from behind them, and they turned. “What do you think of my solution? The flight of the dead.”

“The plane blows up midair. Mission accomplished for the terrorist. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies,” said Sherlock in understanding.

“Neat, don’t you think?” remarked Mycroft.

“All of those cases. The girls not seeing their grandfather, the man claiming to have non-human ashes…” (Y/N)’s eyes widened as they realized those were some of the bodies Mycroft had commandeered. They looked at him. “The body in the boot of that car…Was that another ‘flight of the dead?’ ”

“At least someone sees the bigger picture,” said Mycroft sardonically as he looked at Sherlock.

“How’s the plane fly? Of course—unmanned aircraft. Hardly new,” said Sherlock.

“It doesn’t fly. It will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can’t fool them now,” said Mycroft bitterly. “We’ve lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished.”

“Your MOD man,” said Sherlock.

“No, Sherlock, you,” said Mycroft. “A man desperate to show off setting a terrible example to a teenager and a woman clever enough to play them like a fiddle.”

“It’s not (Y/N)’s fault,” said Sherlock. “I pushed them.”

“No, Sherlock. I could have stopped…” murmured (Y/N).

“And yet my brother is the one who was played,” said Mycroft, sighing in disappointment.

“It’s my fault, too,” said (Y/N).

“Poor dear,” tutted the voice of Irene Adler behind them. “Sherlock, you should really look after them better.”

“I drove you two into her path. I’m sorry,” said Mycroft.

“Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk,” said Irene.

“So do I. There are a number of aspects I’m still not quite clear on,” said Sherlock.

“Not you, Junior. We’re done,” said Irene. She passed him and went to Mycroft. “There’s more. Loads more. On this phone, I’ve got secrets, pictures, and scandals that could topple your whole world.” She smirked. “You have no idea how much havoc I could cause, and there’s exactly one way to stop me. That is, unless you to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother and his child.”

Mycroft gritted his teeth and looked away. He knew he was beaten. He couldn’t throw his brother and his kid under the bus. They were his family, and as much as he preached that sentiment was foolish, Mycroft was protective of them.

“I have a meeting house nearby. We can conduct our…negotiations there,” said Mycroft.

“You better send for some paper and pencil. And some wine. We might as well make this fun,” said Irene. She smirked. “For me, that is.”

Mycroft and Irene descended the steps from the jumbo jet. (Y/N) paused before they went.

“Sherlock, if we could open the phone, that would solve everything, right? Mycroft would have information she is trying to hide, probably from other governments and organizations, too,” said (Y/N).

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, but we have only one chance. Otherwise, the phone destroys itself.”

(Y/N) furrowed their brow. I have to figure it out, then. I need to win this. It’s my fault this flight can’t go. I need to do this. Their eyes were cold as ice as they followed Irene’s smug figure into the car. She’s not getting away with this. Screw her protection. I’m winning here.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

#a study of the heart and brain #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #sherlock #sherlock x teen!reader #sherlock x teen reader #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #x teen reader #x teen!reader #found family #irene adler #the woman

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miasiegert · 3 months

Text

Day 2, and one workshop photo of MY work

Before I say ANYTHING, hello to Wichita folk from Chaz. :) He was shocked (and delighted) at how much people enjoyed the show and we absolutely are brainstorming things for the future. So a huge thank you for the support and kindness. It meant a ton to him (and obviously me and David as well!)

Day 2 was a roller coaster... for ME!

I'm very suspicious because everything is going so well. Too well. Things never go this well. So I decided it was time to start really stoning some costume pieces that I hadn't before while David got supplies.

Then I got a phone call, never a good sign, from David asking me could I get the padlock open for the gate.

Padlock? What Padlock?

There are no concrete answers, only a guess... but it's believed that people who share a lot to store their boats left and padlocked the gate behind them so I was TRAPPED in the costume shop (which is a completely different building/drive away from the theatre) all alone with no food and had been the entire day while David couldn't get me.

Some chaos to get a key and get out, and David decided to go to the night time run through for notes. Chaz told me to take tonight off because I went through ND hell as there was a loud beeping noise nonstop and I had to turn my headphones up louder than normal (I usually watch a show in the background--today was "Power Book III: Raising Kanan" from Starz) so it hurt then the panic of being alone and trapped.

Anyway, what I *Did* realize was that I absolutely can share a wip of Bedazzling more of the Reba!Suit because that is my costume, that has been seen onstage before, there is no actor in it, no full costume, and it's MY original design.

Way back, we had very cheap acrylic rhinestones because we were too poor for better ones. Now, we're mixing in preciosa and swarovski with some crystal and glass ones. We have not removed the acrylics YET because a lot is carefully plotted fill ins and until I have enough time to REALLY thoroughly do it, I don't want to remove any sparkle.

So, for your pleasure (or not, Idk, maybe you don't care) this is the epaulets and belt for the Gumbie Tap Suit that's my design. If you notice a few interesting things with the waistband/tail, that is because it's got four strong snaps for the waist. There's stretch but not as much as some of our other specialty fabric, and different tappers prefer different tightness. We're hoping to add some snaps as this Jenny is between sizes and really wants a snatched waist (she didn't want to take the costume off--never seen anyone so happy before!)

I will be adding gold, yellow, and orange to it. I added purple to Misto in two shades and some AB crystals.

I forgot if I said this or not but I was requested to rhinestone Misto's shoes for his song number. I can't wait to show people pictures. I'm pretty sure there will be video. The last time I saw a very flippity Misto was my first pro production where an INCREDIBLE cheerleader/gymnast/hiphop dancer was cast. It was incredible to watch. This choreo is really fun and Misto's actor's manner actually does come across as shy and aloof at first... then super excited and happy. METHOD ACTING OR JUST HYPED ABOUT COSTUMES??? The world may never know.

I think people will REALLY like Rumple and Mungo a LOT. Cassandra is FANTASTIC.

Also anyone here have Starz? I need to gush over "P-Valley" and cry over "Hightown" s3 with someone! "Raising Kanan" is good but not hitting me in the feels the same way.

#cats musical #cats the musical #cats musical cosplay #cats musical suncoast broadway theatre

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grace-nakimura · 7 months

Text

Unbeta'd. Written when I actually have stuff to do, but I'm impulsive and a Gemini. Inspired by this. Also, a nugget taken from @impossibleprincess35's fic about the drunken antics of Obi-Wan. As well as a companion to my Mara fic, sure. Brief mentions of Obitine, Obiquin (Obi/Quinlan), and LukeMara.

This is the story of the first, and last, time Luke Skywalker deep dives into old articles circulating around the Clone Wars.

Leia isn't with him. She has little Ben and now baby Jaina to take care of, but she does request if he finds any holophotos of their mother make copies. She also asks if she sees any holo photos of Bail and Breha to make copies, too, but he notes how she leaves out any mention of Anakin Skywalker.

He doesn't blame her; Leia is entitled to feel how she wants, just like he is, and while they are growing in their sibling dynamic where they can argue about anything to being the best of friends with a flip of a dime, the respect they have for each other is solid. It's built upon a foundation of beskar, shared trauma, and the fact they've known each other for years before ever meeting one another.

(He wishes there could be holophotos, or recordings, of Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. When he dreams of them he's always ten years old; Uncle Owen is sipping his caf and ruffles his hair, while Aunt Beru smiles and asks him if he wants blue milk or regular milk with his breakfast.)

That doesn't stop his own curiosity about who Anakin Skywalker was.

Cunning warrior. Good pilot. Good friend. Old Ben had told him, but he left out the part where he also spent twenty years committing crimes against sentient life.

He said I was like him when I was a kid, Leia had told him. Fearless and passionate, forthright. Which, sure, Leia is all those things and more, but it doesn't tell him who Anakin used to be.

Intense, the droid Huyang had said and left it at that.

Intense. Cunning warrior. Good pilot. Good friend(?) - you don't leave a good friend to waste away in a sea of lava, and a good friend also doesn't kill you, but Luke knows not to poke the proverbial krayt dragon - and ... oh, yes. Fearless. Passionate. Forthright. Which could sum up a number of people in the galaxy.

So there Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master who hasn't really been knighted, sits in front of a computer in a library on Coruscant scrolling through article after article. He makes copies of their mother - for Leia - and he makes some copies of the sparse mentions of Kor Kryze for Mara - even if she says she doesn't need it, but he's caught her staring at the little information she has with a hunger that matches his own - and finally, he finds some things about the Hero with No Fear. Swapping left, Luke enlarges the blue projection and sees his father.

His father, newly knighted, doing his best to avoid eye contact with the photographers. Everyone says Luke looks like his father, but he sees more Leia (he knows better than to say that to her face!) in him. Beside him is Obi-Wan, his hair longer, and layered, looking just as uncomfortable but much more - professional? He makes a copy. Artoo beeps in boredom, whistling in a way that asks, are we done yet? but Luke ignores him.

(Ever since he learned that the astromech had the ability of flight and never needed him to carry him through muck and sand and over hills all along, well ... Luke calls this payback.)

Several other pictures. It's mostly propaganda, which tells Luke absolutely nothing, about the young man known as Anakin Skywalker. This is the myth, he realizes, not the man. It's with a sinking realization that that is all Anakin Skywalker is ever going to be - a myth. A story. Mon Momtha had agreed to keep what became of Anakin Skywalker a secret only between he and Leia, out of respect of the friendship she had with their mother, but Luke thinks it's mostly out of the care she so clearly possesses for Leia. Even Mon, who was there, only had a vague impression that Anakin was competent and he was loath to leave Padme's side.

Sort of like he is loathed to leave Mara's, if he's being honest, but he likes to think he's handling it in a much more mature fashion than a nineteen or twenty-year-old.

He heeds warnings about attachment, but Mara isn't a possession. Wedge or Biggs weren't possessions. They were partners. Mara is his partner, even if they haven't really spoken about being one, and maybe he is being presumptuous, but -

and this is when a link appears.

I have a bad feeling about this, he thinks to himself. It's a holotabloid, so he knows it's going to be absolutely poodoo.

Maybe it's because he's naturally curious. Maybe he's masochistic. Maybe he's tired of Artoo's, can we go yet? whistle that he's been sprouting over and over again every two minutes - enough for a librarian to hush the two - but he clicks on it. It isn't his own personal datapad, and the computers in the Coruscanti Library are probably the most protected from viruses or malware than any piece of technology in the Core.

He looks to his right - no one. Just Artoo spinning around like a child. He looks to his left - no one. Well, if he discounts a nimodian mother and child browsing the children's section a few meters away. The child spots him and squeals. While, normally, Luke hates being recognized in public, children are always the exception. The child, no older than little Ben, shyly hides behind their mother's leg, peeking at him now and then.

The display of innocence - and the reminder to pay a visit to Chandrilla to see Ben and Jaina because, by the stars, there is no way in all Corellian hells is Lando going to win the title of their favorite uncle! - he turns back to the blue projections and presses the link with his finger.

The photo - and article - makes his stomach drop signifcantly.

OBI-WAN KENOBI IS TOO POLITE TO TELL YOU ABOUT HIS HUGE PENIS!

Oh, this isn't - oh, no.

If Quinlan Vos had Obi-Wan Kenobi's penis, he'd be whipping it out constantly. Vos told Holonews of Kenobi (who is on the magazine's cover.)

This isn't happening. This is worse than losing a hand and being told your father, who you dreamt about your whole life, is a genocidal tyrant all in one go. That was pretty bad. He would be lying if he said he didn't have echoes of nightmares about that night even nearly a decade after.

This is worse. This is how he felt when Mara told him she is also a Kenobi as well as a Kryze. That the man who he and Biggs caught arguing with the air now and then as kids had sex. Someone looked at that man who so badly needed a mind healer and went, yes, that is the one for me.

(It's not my fault Master Jinn came around at the worst of times! The force ghost of his old mentor defended himself, even translucent Luke remembers noticing how his ears would redden. Spend ten years trying to contact him, only to spend nine years hearing his unsolicited advice!)

Against his better judgment - and maybe because it's a rather short article - he scrolls down.

"I don't think Obi is proud of his penis as most men who are as well hung would - or should - or could be."

"This is nothing like what Master Yoda had told me," but then again, in the brief time he's met with Quinlan Vos he's noted that the words "conservative" and "Quinlan" were not synonymous whatsoever.

And the fact Kenobi won't tell you about his huge dick himself is a sign of his fine moral character. "I think that's the greatest demonstration of his inane humility," Vos added, "that he doesn't wear it like a badge of honor."

"I can explain!" The force ghost, a force ghost who Luke still can't look in the eyes properly. Not just for the fact that more and more someone who seemed almost grandfatherly was a human, but for all the images he has of his only grandchild he finds himself thinking about when he's alone. The sort that could make him a great-grandfather.

Luke holds his face in his hands, hunching over, as the force ghost regales him a tale of a misadventure in a Dantooine Cantina, and how his oldest friend thought himself quite the comedian. That, apparently, there was a soft scolding by the council about the Jedi Knight, but - much to his own and Luke's mortification - the fact it had Kit Fisto in stitches meant the punishment was simply a scolding and nothing more.

Luke groans.

And just when he thinks that this is the end, when he powers off the computer and uses the USB port to transfer the things he's saved for himself, Leia, and Mara onto Artoo - who whistles in excitement at the prospect of leaving - the force ghost of Ben, old Ben, who seems to take unnatural glee at tormenting Luke because the afterlife must be terribly boring, speaks up: "While I cannot say for certain that the article is factual, I can assure you that Satine never once complained. Or Quinlan, for that matter, although he was before I met-"

"Right." He stands from the chair and puts a hand on Artoo's dome once the transfer is finished, putting the USB port in his pocket. Not the best place, but he just wants to get out. "Always a pleasure, Ben." Luke says, dryly, not bothering to even glance at the ghost who he can hear is chuckling under his breath.

This is the story of the first, and last, time Luke Skywalker deep dives into old articles circulating around the Clone Wars

#myfic #skybaby one #sw #* mara jade is a kryze.#mentions of:#skybaby two

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cheeriecherrymain · 2 years

Text

Incorrigible Flirts And Besweatered Men [Chapter 2]

Pairing: TA!Viktor x fem!Reader Rating: T Warnings: None that I can think of Proofread: Not even a tiny bit Chapter Summary: You enter friend territory with Viktor, get an email that might change your future, and get asked on a date (but it’s not actually a date).

It’s been two weeks since the new semester started. Two weeks, and you’re already stressed over the amount of work you’re doing. You’ve told yourself again and again that it’s only going to get more difficult as the year presses on, but somehow, the sentiment has not made you feel any better.

You suppose one of the bright sides of being in another one of Heimerdinger’s classes is that you’ve met Viktor.

When you’d asked for his number, you’d maybe given him the impression that you only wanted it for school purposes; however, he didn’t seem to mind that you texted him daily - if it bothered him, he’d never said anything. In fact, he was always quick to reply to your messages.

Viktor doesn’t seem to be the type of person who’s particularly attached to his phone, so you like to think that maybe he just enjoys talking to you.

—

You startle out of sleep when your alarm starts beeping aggressively in your ear; you don’t remember leaving your phone on your bed the previous night, but knowing your own habits, you probably fell asleep while watching meme videos. Again.

You squirm around a little bit to find the optimal stretching position, only to be deterred when you realize all three of your cats are curled up on your legs, rendering you immobile.

You quickly snap a picture of them, and flip to Viktor’s chat window.

Y/N: Good morning!

Y/N: Hopefully you’re already awake, and I’m not waking you up.

Y/N: I might not be able to make it to class today.

You find yourself smiling when a set of dots appear beside Viktor’s name.

Viktor (Phys510A): Good morning, indeed.

Viktor (Phys510A): Everything is alright, I hope?

Your heart flutters at his concern, and you take a moment to compose yourself. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself, He would check in on anyone else just the same. But despite your inner monologue, you still can’t help the warmth that spreads through your chest and down every nerve ending in your body.

Y/N: I’m okay, I promise.

Y/N: Just a little bit of potential legal trouble.

Viktor (Phys510A): Legal trouble?

Viktor (Phys510A): Do you need help?

With a wry grin, you send the picture of the cats piled on your blanketed legs.

Y/N: If I move them, I’ll go to jail.

Viktor (Phys510A): Miss. Y/N.

You can feel his exasperation through his text, and you barely manage to suppress a laugh.

Viktor (Phys510A): You are a menace.

Viktor (Phys510A): You had me genuinely worried for a moment.

Y/N: Awww, you care about me?

Viktor (Phys510A): Of course I care.

Viktor (Phys510A): You’re one of Heimerdinger’s top students.

Y/N: Oh, ouch???

Y/N: And here I thought we were at least friends by now.

Y/N: But I see how it is.

Y/N: I’m only a student, after all.

Y/N: Woe is me :(

Viktor (Phys510A): You say it like you consider us friends?

Y/N: Of course I do!

Y/N: You’re one of the only two people I send good morning texts to.

Y/N: The other person is my cousin.

Y/N: She works at a pizza parlor.

Y/N: I get free pizza if I let her gossip with me.

Viktor (Phys510A): Is this your way of saying you want something from me?

Y/N: No!!!

Y/N: omg you’re missing the point completely.

Y/N: I can’t believe I showed you my litties when I’m being treated like this

Viktor (phys510A): What are litties?

Y/N: KITTIES*

Y/N: You’ve stooped low, Viktor.

Y/N: Calling me out on a typo.

Viktor (Phys510A): Physics and its subsequent lessons have no room for typos.

Viktor (Phys510A): I’m just preparing you for class.

Y/N: Physics and its concepts were discovered by total accident.

Y/N: That’s basically a typo, but real life.

Y/N: Therefore you cannot scold me for having fat thumbs.

Viktor (Phys510A): You’re really going to stick with that argument, aren’t you.

Y/N: Yes. Yes, I am.

Viktor (Phys510A): If you’re not in class today, I’m telling Heimerdinger that you’re hungover.

Y/N: But then he’ll be disappointed in me!

Y/N: He’ll make The Face and everything!

Viktor (Phys510A): It’s your choice.

Y/N: Terrible, awful, horrible man.

Viktor (Phys510A): I’ll see you in class :)

You set your phone down with a pouty sigh, and debate just going back to sleep. However, you know that Viktor is a man who will follow through on his threats, however playful they are, and you don’t think you have the emotional capacity to deal with disappointment from the Professor.

So, with great difficulty and many protests from your cats, you haul yourself out of bed to get ready for the day.

—

You walk into the lecture hall, waving to Viktor and the Professor, and take your favourite seat; second row from the front, just to the left of the center of the room.

The class had shrunk considerably since the start of the semester, with most of the unenthused students dropping the course, but in your mind, the front row was only for serious students. You might still be a part of the class, and you certainly cared about your grades, but you weren’t passionate about the subject like some of your peers.

The second row was the optimal choice.

Once you’re settled, you pull your notebooks and supplies out of your bag. It’s an ancient thing, made mostly of scraps and patches at this point, but it gets the job done. You only have to unwrinkle a few pages of notes as you go over them.

Then again, you only go over your notes for a few pages, before your mind - and your eyes - starts wandering. Specifically, over to Viktor.

He’s a good teacher, whether he’s helping Heimerdinger with lectures, or wandering from student to student to quietly answer questions. He’s insightful and intelligent, and he’s encouraging in his criticisms.

Not to mention, he turns a lovely shade of pink when you flirt with him.

You’ve noticed a couple of your classmates try to behave the same with him - friendly with a flirtatious air - and you’ve never seen Viktor get as flustered as with you. In fact, with everyone else, he hardly gets flustered at all. He keeps his professionalism in check, and keeps the conversation subjects strictly on class material.

That isn’t to say he doesn’t do the same with you, of course; his first instinct with you is to help you with any questions you have about the days’ lecture, but he’s…warmer with you. Friendlier, and more open. Plus, you’re pretty sure you’re the only person in the class who has his personal number, and he’s always quick to text you back-

You startle out of your thoughts when your pocket vibrates and, with a quick glance around to make sure you haven’t drawn attention to yourself, you pull your phone out of your pocket.

You’re half expecting a cheeky text from Viktor, something along the lines of ‘Why are you checking your phone in class?’, and you’re only slightly disappointed when you don’t see any notifications from him. You do, however, have an email.

You swipe to see who it’s from, deciding it’s most likely junk or spam - but the name of the sender makes you pause.

Firelights Studios.

Your heart leaps into your throat so quickly that you nearly choke, and you’re quick to open the email.

You don’t fully read most of it - that’s a task better left for outside class hours - but you’re able to understand the gist of it; you try your hardest to keep your excitement at bay, but as you quietly slip your phone back into your pocket, you’re unable to keep your hands from shaking.

There’s no way in hell you’re going to be able to focus on working for the next three hours.

—

The class drags on far longer than it should, despite the fact that it ends right on schedule. Part of you is grateful for the longer lessons - it really allows you to get into your projects and be present for learning - but mostly, you’re just cranky that you have to sit for so long.

You walk swiftly down the steps at the side of the lecture hall, your mind still reeling from the email you got earlier. It had seemed to be good news, from what you’d read; you hadn’t seen any apologies or ‘we regret to inform you’s hidden within the multitude of paragraphs.

And then a tug on your shoulder, followed by the sickening sound of snapping threads, brings your thoughts out of the clouds and back to reality. It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to react - your shoulder bag is torn open after getting caught on the edge of a bannister, and your various papers and school supplies explode across the floor.

You swear quietly, and stoop down to try to collect everything. You’re not sure how you’re going to carry anything, though, once you try to find space in the bag that is - at this point - little more than scrap fabric.

You sigh deeply, and run your hands over your face.

And then the creak of a chair right beside you, and the shuffling of papers.

You remove your hands from your face to find Viktor just to your left, helping you gather up the mess you’d made. You just watch him for a second, both surprised by the gesture, but also not; because he’s Viktor. Of course he’d rush in to help.

“Thank you,” you manage to squeak out, scrabbling around to move all your stuff into a more tidy pile. You’re not entirely sure why your throat tightens the way it does, nor why tears start to sting the corners of your eyes; you just hope that Viktor doesn’t notice, or make a comment on why you’re so quiet.

Once everything is set up into neat little stacks, Viktor produces a fabric square from his own shoulder bag, and hands it to you. “It won’t replace an actual school bag,” he says softly, “but it will at least allow you to carry everything back to your residence.”

You stare at the square for a moment, taking longer than you’d like to realize it’s a reusable grocery bag. You quickly unfold it to start packing your things up, mumbling your thanks once again.

Once all is said and done, Viktor stands up beside you and offers his hand.

“Well,” you sigh, as he helps you to your feet, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to fix it this time around.” You regard the ruined satchel in your hand, and crinkle your nose up.

“Are you sure?” Viktor asks, though you can tell by his tone that he’s just trying to be supportive. “A…little bit of extra fabric here and there, and maybe…”

You fix him with a disbelieving stare, and he trails off.

“At this point, the entire thing is made of scrap fabric,” you explain. “I’ve had this bag since I was thirteen, I think? Or maybe twelve?” Viktor looks surprised, but you continue, “It doesn’t matter. I’m overdue for a replacement, is the point.”

Your attention darts down to the worn-leather bag hanging at his side, and you ask, “ Viktor, you wouldn’t happen to remember where you got that, would you?”

His gaze follows yours, and realization dawns on him. “Oh- yes, actually.” He reaches into one of the satchel’s pockets, and digs around for a couple seconds. “It’s a little hole-in-the-wall sort of place - I don’t think they even have a website, all of his reputation is based on word-of-mouth.”

He pulls out a tiny notepad and a metal pen, and scribbles down an address. “Here,” he says softly, handing it to you, and you don’t miss the little jolt of warmth you feel when your fingers brush together. “It’s, ah. It’s reasonably priced, for hand-crafted goods, and there are lots of designs to choose from. You should be able to find something.”

Butterflies explode in your stomach when you see the pink dusting his cheeks again: he’s just as affected by the little touch as you are.

But your nervous excitement turns into anxiety when you read the address he’s written down for you.

“Is this place in the-” you pause for a moment, “Is this place in Zaun?” You try your best to keep your voice even, but it proves difficult. You don’t want to be the kind of person who judges any part of a community based on the worst of the people that can be found there, and you understand that most of the residents in that district are only trying to make ends meet: but you’d be naive - if not downright stupid - to walk through the undercity without a single care.

“It is,” Viktor confirms. “Is that an issue?”

You fidget nervously, picking at the dry skin around your cuticles. “Only because I’m a single woman,” you tell him, starting to feel like you’re overreacting. “It’ll be fine though, I’m sure. I’m just being my usual nervous self!”

Your attempt at deflecting goes poorly, because Viktor continues to frown at you. You think for a moment that you’ve offended him or worse, but all at once his features soften and his shoulders relax.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he says quietly, sounding almost guilty.

You shrug. “I mean, you’re a guy, so you don’t…I mean, obviously you have to be careful still, but…you don’t really have to be on guard every time you leave the house.”

“It is the same as when we met,” he says, “when you hesitated following me. Clearly there are dangers in the world that even I do not know about. But you need a bag, and I stand by my opinion that this man is one of the best craftsmen in the area; and I cannot send you there alone in good conscience.”

Then quieter, “Are you free this weekend?”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #arcane reader insert #ta!viktor #fem!reader

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oonajaeadira · 1 year

Text

For the Love of Fic: March 27

Very slowly getting caught up! Here’s what I’ve been enjoying lately!!!

🪐 = Year of Themed Creations work!

PERO TOVAR

The Herbalist: Part 5: Manners Apparently Do Not Maketh All Men by @blueeyesatnight I am thoroughly enjoying this Victorian lady-sleuth piece and the little glimpses of our grumpy Spaniard. He’s rude, he’s dirty, and I’d jump on him in a heartbeat. Kitty might not be drawn to someone who picks his teeth with a knife, but I can’t wait until the day she sees some strange potential in him...

Dance in the Fire by @writeforfandoms 🪐 I will never ever ever tire of a good werewolf!Pero fic, especially one where I get cheek rubs and nuzzles and I’m protected from monsters by a big black wolf/scarred man in grey sweatpants that seems to take a fancy to me.

Watch Over You by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 This has so many good tropes. Bodyguard/escort Pero. Sword-weilding maiden. Fake relationship. One bed. Runaway bride. I eat it up like a tasty cake. No crumbs left.

EZRA

untitled by @insomniamamma A little microfic set at the end of the movie, wading through Ezra’s unconciousness and waking up in a medical bed with Cee watching over him. Even when he dreams, Ezra has troubles...

JAVIER PEÑA

Whatever You Need by @haylzcyon I don’t know what right Haylz has to write something so hot and with just enough swirling under the surface that makes me ache at the same time. I mean, sometimes you just need to get railed, and for that there’s Javier. And sometimes you need to read really good writing, and for that, there’s Haylz.

DIETER BRAVO

After the Beep by @oogaboogasphincter It’s Dieter and it’s voicemails. You know what’s up. Do I really need to tell you that he’s taken himself in hand to do it? Or that he woke up after a night with you wanting more? That he might be catching feels? This boy is my favorite switch....

JAVI GUTIERREZ

Cloud Nine by @chaoticgeminate 🪐 Pairing up the Gutierrez family business and relationships with Pokemon plot and intrigue is just fantastic. Reader is a Pokemon champion come home to Javi only to get swept up in a plot to bring back some very familiar villains...

JOEL MILLER

West by @radiowallet Cat can tear my heart out with her writing any day and I’d still thank her for being a part of this fandom and the talent she brings. Her internal pieces are some of my favorite as it is here, inside Joel Miller’s head and heart, trying just to ride out a moment in time... gorgeous.

WINGS GUY

First and 10 by @something-tofightfor Rachael has affectionately named the Wings Guy Daniel and I’m here for it. A meet cute twice over on one day, once in a beer cave and another at a football party. I don’t know anything about football, but I know food, and there’s a lot of good stuff at this party. I also know cute boys and there’s at least one of them here. Flirting and staying close and being sly about exchanging numbers...I don’t know if I’d be paying much attention to the game really...

GROGU

In Which, Beans Are Not Beans, Eggs Are Everyplace and I Have To Eat Them (this is doing my part, people!) as told by Grogu Djarin by @grogusmum 🪐 I will never tire of Grogu’s adventures here on earth, his sass, his delight at all the animals and traditions, and the way he loves food like I like food. This time it’s Ostara time which means eggs and bunnies and beans and candy and I am all for it. Oh, and a duck with whappy feet which I am also all for.

TRIPLE FRONTIER BOYS

As Long as I’m Alive by @artemiseamoon 🪐 This one kept me at the edge of my seat. The team is kidnapped and it’s a hairy ride to extraction. Arte’s OCs are always so brave and fleshed out and I’m happy to ride in their capable shoes any day, even in the Year of Whump.

SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

WESTLEY

The Dread Pirate Roberts by @captainsophiestark 🪐 It certainly would have saved Westley a lot of trouble if his beloved had come seeking him instead of him having to come after her! Of course that doesn’t mean it’s without its perils because the sea is rough and no place to get caught drowning in... (at least it’s not full of shrieking eels!!!) But true love wins all the same...

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miyaniacs · 2 years

Text

Sent from heaven

characters: Rindou x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of blood, death, angst, angst with comfort, smaaaalllllll mentions of pregnancy

A/n: sooo the part two is finally done ^^ I hope you like it ^^ I had so many possible endings in mind, but you get the happy ending one ✌🏼❤️ love you all, thank you for the feedback! Sorry that the ending is kinda shitty, but this is in my drafts for weeks and I finally wanted to finish it.

Part one

Walking around in the kitchen, you place the plates on the table and walk over to the oven watching the food. It should be finished soon, but why is Rindou still not here?

You walk around the counter and grab your phone checking your messages. He still hasn’t replied to any of your messages - you’re about to call him when something on the TV catches your eye.

“Yes - Yes we still don’t know exactly what was happening here, yet we know that plenty of people died in what seemed to be a gang shooting.” - “This sounds horrible, behind you we can see the corpses getting carried out, are all of those civilians?” - “As far as we know, no. Both of those gangs should have lost quite a bit of their members. The police told us they saw many of them with the signature tattoo on them.”

Your heart stopped and you sink to the floor.

Haven’t you seen that one guy laying dead in the back before? Wasn’t he in Rindou’s office when you visited him a few weeeks ago? Doesn’t that mean…. Quickly you dial his number.

The ongoing beeping made your breath get stuck in your throat. As a reflex you lay one of your hands on your belly. No he can’t be - he - someone picks up the phone.

“Y/n…”

“Ran? Ran why are you on Rindou’s phone?! Why isn’t he answering? Why-“

“He’s alive. He - “ Ran got interrupted by someone mumbling your name, “yes - yes that’s her. No Rindou you have- oh my god Wakasa put more pressure on it! - hey sorry y/n I can’t talk right now, we’re at the headquarters.” And with that he hangs up.

Your body moves on its own, as you get up, turn off the oven and grab your keys, quickly putting on your shoes and running out of the door.

Your mind is foggy and filled with Rindou’s beautiful face, the way his eyes wrinkle when he smiles at you, the way his fingers feel on your skin, the way you feel when you’re with him.

But then it shifts - he opens his mouth but nothing except blood comes out of it. The blood keeps on running and running, he extends his hand for you to grab it, but the more you try the further away he seems to be from you. The more you try the more you lose him.

You’ll lose him.

You’ll lose the person you love.

The person that loves you and your unborn child with everything he got.

You remember how nervous you were when you found out about your pregnancy.

With shaking hands you waited for him to come home, the picture from your gynecologist appointment in your trembling fingers and then the door opened. You tried to talk to him, but no words left your mouth so you just handed him the picture. Your eyes fixed on his face. You saw how his eyes widened in shock and searched for your own to confirm what he already knew it meant. When you nodded he broke down, tears running down his face and kneeled down in front of you, hugging your waist and leaning his forehead against your belly, placing a gentle kiss on it.

You feared his reaction and now you don’t even know why? Why were you afraid he’d leave you? Rindou would never leave you… he’d fight to be with you… and you know he’s doing exactly this at this very moment. And you need to be there with him, with him to show him that you’ll be at his side, forever - that he’s the only one you want.

How could you have been so stupid? How could you have been so stupid all those years?

It‘s close to a miracle that you arrived at the headquarter alive and didn’t crash the car.

Yet you’re here now, rushing to get inside.

“Where is he?” You ask Sanzu who walks down the floor, his shirt still bloody.

“Y/n… I - I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to -“

“I asked WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?” You yelled.

“Hey let me show you, don’t stress yourself!” Mikey, who suddenly appeared next to you says softly and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” You say, your voice slightly broken, but you still try to keep your composure.

Walking down the corridor with you, Mikey keeps on glancing over, afraid that you‘d collapse next to hin any second.

Your whole body was shaking and all of the color left your face.

As you got closer and closer to the door, the tears begin to form in your eyes. You imaged to hear him, maybe hear his screams but it was so quiet. Too quiet.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go in there?” Mikey almost whispers and places his hand on your shoulder, trying to support you.

Placing on hand on your belly, you nod and he opens the door.

“Y/n.” Ran says as soon as his eyes met yours. Quickly he gets up from his seat a few meters away from a the conference table.

“Hey … hey don’t look there - look at me.” Ran says and grabs your face forcing you to look at his face and not the blood stained clothes he wears.

“Is … is he?” Your voice breaks as you glance over his shoulder to the the table where the lifeless body of your fiancé lays.

“No - no omg no he … he can’t be-“ you break down crying and fall on the floor.

Everything flashes before your eyes. Every memory you shared with him, every moment you thought was annoying because you wanted to share it with Ran, it all comes crashing down on you now.

You should have been a better girlfriend for him. You should have loved him the way he loved you. You were sure he knew that deep down you didn’t feel the same as he did, yet all this time he was nothing but perfect for you. He treated you like you where a goddess, only he was allowed to worship. And that’s exactly what he did, he carried you on his hands while you only had eyes for gis brother.

The brother that’s kneeling right next to you, holding you in his arms trying to talk to you, but non of his words reach you.

Being in his arms felt disgusting and wrong.

He smelled wrong.

He holds you wrong.

The way he talks is wrong.

Everything about him is wrong.

Because he is not his brother.

The brother you’d wish could hold you for one last time.

The brother you wish to be here with you, so you’d b able to tell him that you love him and that it was always him and that it will be always and only him.

“Pretty?”

You don’t move. It’s as if you hear that voice from far off.

“My love, y/n, hey what’s wrong?”

“No nooo stay there! You just woke up!” Ran looks over his shoulder pointing a finger at his brother who tries to get off the table, flinching as soon as one foot hits the ground.

“Y/n…. Hey … hey don’t cry please I - arghh- I’m right here I’m fine!” Rindou’s voice is weak and you can hear that he’s clearly in pain, the pain killers slowing wearing off.

Your vision is still blurry when you look up to see the most beautiful lavender eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Rin?”

“Yes. I’m here, don’t cry my love, I’ll be fine.” He says and sits down next to you, pulling you in his arms holding you close. You grab onto him, afraid he’d vanish if you let go just a second. Nuzzling your head onto his chest you inhale deeply. The smell of him, immediately calling you down.

Rindou pulls you closer, ignoring the way his wounds. He doesn’t know why, but holding you now feels different from all the times before - different in a good way.

A smile spreads on your face.

Rindou’s here and he’s alive.

He’s here with you.

And he won’t ever leave you.

“I love you so much.” You mumble into his neck, looking up at his face.

“I love you too pretty. Come here and give me a kiss.” He says and gently lifts up your chin, placing his slightly chapped lips onto your salty ones.

“Ow ow owwww.” He mumbles into the kiss and you realize that your hand grabs onto one of his bandages.

“Omg I’m sorryyyyy.” You quickly move away from him.

“Omg look at you - what happed to you?” You say while looking over all the bandages on his body , some already leaking blood.

“Uhm well so - oh nooo noo no no don’t cry again.” He says and quickly wipes away the fresh tears running over your cheeks.

“I - I just the thought of loosing you I - “

“Don’t. Don’t ever that about that. I promise you, that I’ll always come back to you. To you two. Because I love you, and with whatever remaining strength I’ll come back to you. Always.” He grabs your face and looks into your eyes, caressing your cheeks with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“You already said that pretty.” He smiles softly and his eyes sparkle.

“Not enough though.”

“I love you too pretty.”

#rindou x reader #bonten rindou #rindou haitani #rindou headcanons #rindou imagines #rindou x female reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev one shot

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