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stewardofningishzida · 11 months

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Chapter 14: Weathered

The final chapter of the meta-fic! Special thanks to Tear, Trix, PrettyWitch, Weevil, Fox, Hana, Laer, Alexis, and Tuatara for collaborating with me! <3

T for language.

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*After the group sleeps off last night’s impromptu party in the living room, PrettyWitch takes Stephen to retrieve the replica Sling Ring. As soon as they return, he tries it on, feeling its shape and weight while inspecting the engraved details.*

Stephen: …It’s definitely close to mine.

Prettywitch: I’ll say…

Trix: Certainly has the weight to it.

Me: Think you need a bit more energy before trying it out just to be sure it works?

Stephen: It might be a good idea. Who hasn’t given energy lately?

Me: My eyes are almost healed. Let me do it. I’m back to being able to see colors and movement again.

Stephen: *Sigh* Stubborn, huh? It might delay your recovery by another day.

Me: Worth it if it helps.

Tear: Or…I could just do it instead. The bakery is closed for the weekend. Besides, if the spell works, you’ll want to have your sight back so that you can give Stephen a proper goodbye.

Me: You sure you’ll be okay? That spell takes a lot out of each of us…With the exception of PrettyWitch. She seems to be a natural at it.

Tear: …Is this supposed to be an argument in your favor? Because you’re just giving me more reasons for why I should be the one to do it. You’re healing. I’m not even hungover. I just have a sore throat from last night. *I lean over so I can give Stephen a look* Back me up here?

*The former surgeon is about to start up. I can feel it.*

Me: Okay, okay! I’ll step aside. Go ahead, Tear. *I yield.*

Tear: Huh, maybe I should start threatening you with Stephen’s medical lectures more often. *I give Steward a fond nudge before I proceed to cast the spell that has nearly become second nature to us all. The energy drain is quite significant, and I feel as if I just rushed through an entire day’s worth of activities in only a couple of minutes* Ugh, now I’m feeling hungover. This brand of it just lacks all the fun we had last night.

Me: *Before the spell* Heh…Medical stuff, I’m fine with. It’s lectures I can’t stand. *I curl my lip. *When I hear Tear do the spell and notice sluggish, stumbling movement afterwards, I try to go help her so she doesn’t fall over. Though I do have trouble finding her arm to hold her up.* You okay? Lemme help you get to a chair.

Stephen: Allow me. *He helps Tear sit down.*

Tear: Thanks, Stephen. *I rest my elbows on my knees and take deep breaths to help me get used to the sudden physical change* It’s the heart palpitations that always freak me out. Feels like I’m panicking over nothing when I haven’t done the exercise to go with it.

PrettyWitch: Heart Palpatations!? *Looks at Stephen.* She’s gonna be okay, right!?

*He looks Tear over just to be sure that she’s okay. Meanwhile, I stand close by, worried.*

Tear: *I smile in amusement, but let my friends see for themselves that I’m alright* You’re hovering again~

Stephen: Well, it seems like you’ll be okay. Just take it easy. Hopefully you won’t need to cast that spell again. *He pulls out his phone and texts the group, saying that he’s going to try the Sling Ring and a few goodbyes to the various members who couldn’t physically be here.* Thank you again for everything, ladies. *He gives us a genuinely grateful smile.*

Trix: Anything to help. In a roundabout way you helped all of us get introduced so we’re just returning the favor.

PrettyWitch: Hey, it’s our pleasure.

Me: I’ll let you borrow the key to my shed in the backyard so you have a safe area to do it out of sight. Goodbye, Stephen. It was seriously amazing to meet you. *I’m sincere and keep a straight face. Though I have a slight lump in my throat. I hide my emotions as best I can as usual.*

Stephen: Goodbye, Steward. Keep doing your best and for Vishanti’s sake, please be more careful.

*He gently puts his hand on my shoulder. I raise my hand and put it gently on his wrist.*

Me: I will. *I barely manage to conceal a voice crack.*

*He lets go and goes to Tear.*

Stephen: Thank you for being such a kind young woman, Tear. *The Cloak gently hugs her when Stephen gets close. Its grip is weak and sluggish, but still there and as soft and warm as ever.*

Tear: Silly, you don’t have to thank me for that. *I give him a quivering smile, eyes quickly tearing up as my emotions all tangle in a knot in my throat. When the Cloak moves, I reach over to pet it fondly* You take good care of him for us, okay?

*The Cloak waves very faintly in reply. Stephen stops at Trix.*

Stephen: Keep being resourceful, Trix. Your joy and love of life is contagious. Many others in the world could learn from you.

Trix: Always glad to help. Thanks for everything you’re doing. *smiles and is trying not to cry*

*Stephen goes over to PrettyWitch.*

Stephen: I’m not sure how your spells work here, but I’ll say it again. You would have made an excellent sorceress in my universe. Keep practicing and help keep your friends safe, all right?

PrettyWitch: *Blushes and smiles* I will. *She hugs him.* Thank you so much, Stephen!!! I’m so glad I got to meet you! You’re more than welcome to visit anytime.

*He straightens up and takes the keys from me, heading to the shed with the Sling Ring as the three of us watch from the garden sidewalk. After the door closes, there are a few seconds of faint crackling before a loud bang followed by a crash. There are the sounds of gardening tools and shelving filled with pots falling over.*

Trix: Oh god I hope he didn’t blow himself up immediately! *runs for the shed*

Me (alarmed): Oh crap! *I attempt to stumble over to the shed, tripping a few times and almost falling over. I can only really see colors, movement, and very blurry shapes at this stage.*

PrettyWitch: I’ll help you to the shed, come on! *I take hold of Steward and guide her to the shed door.*

Tear: Stephen!? *I run after the other two, panting harshly as if I had run ten times the distance with the lingering exhaustion from the previous spell. I wince at the sight of the mess inside the shed after Trix yanks the door open*

*He’s on the floor of the shed, covered in potting soil and fertilizer. The sorcerer also has a few bruises from the shovels and pots that fell on him. His arm is scratched from the rake. The wall of the shed has a crack in it now and the shelves have fallen down on the side that he collided with. In addition, the air inside the shed smells spicy and almost greasy. That same odd, otherworldly smell as the last time he cast a powerful spell. Stephen gets up, cringing from the bruises as he brushes off all of the filth. The Sling Ring is cracked almost completely in half.*

Stephen (raspy from the dust that got in his mouth and throat): That did something, at least.

*He coughs before checking himself for further injuries. Besides the cuts and bruises, Stephen is okay. However, the Cloak hangs from him…differently. The sorcerer feels the difference and checks on his relic. He tries to get it to move, talking to it, prodding it, and even removing it and giving it a shake. Nothing. A dark cloud of hopelessness passes onto Stephen’s face.*

Stephen (quietly): No…

Tear: *I cover my mouth with my hand to hold in a gasp at the sight of the Cloak. The picture Stephen paints is heartbreaking, but I swallow down my tears and carefully tread my way through the path Trix helped to clear out. When I reach Stephen’s side, I place a comforting hand on his shoulder like he did to us so many times in the past and crouch down to be at eye level with him.* I know. I know, but let’s go outside first. It looks like the spell damaged the structure of the shed. It could be unsafe to linger. *I speak gently, not to dismiss the situation but to make sure no one gets more harmed for now. I move my hand to hold his arm, ready to steady him if he needs it while he gets up even though I am shaking quite noticeably myself*

*He’s silent and numb, letting Tear help him up. Stephen clutches his Cloak tightly, holding it close. It went through so much with him. Tens of millions of deaths to Dormammu, Thanos, and countless other foes amongst the near-infinite timelines. 5 years as dust. Through rift after multidimensional rift. Yet, two weeks in this accursed, non-magical universe is what did it in. His only remaining tie to his home universe. Gone. Despite trying to be persistent and brave this entire time, the sorcerer finally breaks. Tears silently roll down his face and he can’t be bothered to conceal them.*

Trix: Come on, we need to at least get outside. We have to keep you safe. *ushering him towards the door and trying not to cry*

PrettyWitch: Cloakie…

*I can’t completely see what’s going on, but I can guess judging by the limp, red blur hanging in front of the dark-blue moving figure.*

Me (shaking and quiet): Oh God…D-Did Cloak…? I…I’m so sorry…*The last part comes out as little more than a raspy whisper. I’m struggling to stay composed, though I’m stunned and heartbroken.*

Tear: *I carefully guide Stephen out of the shed without letting go of his arm, hoping it serves as an anchor point through his shock. I relax slightly once Trix follows us outside, where we’ll all be safe if the shed ends up collapsing. Once we reach Steward’s side, I reach out for her hand and guide her to hold on to Stephen’s other elbow* Here, let’s head back together to the bench on the porch. He should sit down. *I don’t bring any attention to his silent tears, not wanting him to shy away from us. Instead, I only offer comfort through a gentle squeeze to his arm*

*I’m quiet for a while to let Stephen collect himself, simply keeping him company.*

Me (sincere): …If you need some time to yourself, please feel free to let us know. Otherwise, we’re here for you no matter what, okay? *I make sure I don’t sound pitying or condescending. Frankly, I address him the way that I wanted to be addressed after losing my friend back in college before I had even met the group. It was horrible then and still stings occasionally. Unfortunately, I was on my own at the time and having at least someone there would have been appreciated even though I did want to be left alone for quite a while afterwards. So, I’m gentle while remaining sincere with him.*

Trix: No matter what, we’re going to be here for you. *trying not to feel guilty for suggesting the sling ring in the first place*

*Stephen just sits there silently for several minutes. He’s at a complete loss. After a long time, he speaks.*

Stephen (hoarse and trying to pull himself together): I’m going to spend some time alone for a while…

Me: Take all of the time you need. We aren’t going anywhere.

Tear: Just… *I swallow thickly to keep my emotions in check. Being used to offering physical comfort when someone is in distress, I make sure I hold back the instinct so as to not distress him further. Instead, I grip the fabric of my jeans tightly and mentally pick the least overbearing concern currently circling in my head* Just promise me you’ll get the first aid kit. Take care of that slash on your arm, okay?

*He gives a small nod. It’s all he can muster now. He carefully stands up and silently walks into the house still carrying the now-inanimate Cloak.*

*I’m quiet and trying to stay composed. I hate being vulnerable in front of others. Even those close to me. I want to be the strong one that others can depend on. I want people to feel safe around me. Yet, with this, I no longer know what to do. So, I just sit. There is a lump in my throat. So, I don’t really want to talk anymore in a vain attempt to hide the emotions threatening to spill out.*

Tear: *With Stephen now back inside the house, I let a few tears fall but quickly wipe them away. Looking out to the trashed shed, determination and possible denial steel my nerves. Let hope and positivism stay with me until I die. I turn to PrettyWitch* We gotta help the Cloak somehow. There must be a way to modify the energy spell to direct it toward the Cloak instead of Stephen. Or maybe there’s a different spell altogether.

PrettyWitch: *I bite my finger.* Gee, I don’t know… *I look at where Stephen disappeared; seeing that crushing defeat in his eyes makes my heart ache and it makes me determined.* It’s worth a shot.

Tear: *I glare at a distant point in the garden, upset at the overall situation and not at my friends. I hate feeling so impotent.* Then I’ll text the others too. I’ll let them know the research to conjure a portal will be put on hold while we concentrate instead on finding a way to re-energize the Cloak. We have to bring it back. *I whip out my phone and already start composing a text for one of our old group chats, one Stephen has not joined so that the conversation doesn’t trigger him further. I don’t want to risk him stopping us from helping him again either.*

Me (grim and quiet): *I gently put my hand on Tear’s to indicate to stop.* …I think we’ve done everything we could to send him home…I don’t like pessimism, but even with a group of us taking turns casting over and over, it wasn’t enough. Realistically, I think we need to help him integrate into life here quietly. He’s been through enough and he already feels guilty about how much we give to him. Let’s do our best to help him restart his life and not get more hurt than he already is. *My voice cracks a few times, but I’m finally too emotionally tired to care about hiding it.*

Tear: *I pause typing and turn to look at Steward, although I’m not erasing my half-written text yet.* Alright, so maybe finding a way to open a portal through the multiverse was too ambitious for us, but even if our world lacks the magical energy for such a powerful feat, we owe it to Stephen to at least try to find a way to wake the Cloak up. We can arrange for him to stay longer with us, permanently even, but we know better than anyone that he won’t be able to integrate without the Cloak. Not after everything they’ve lived through together. *I turn to Trix, in need of her sunny fighting spirit now more than ever* Or am I wrong?

Trix: No, Cloak is the priority now. We help them and we help Stephen.

Me: I don’t know how we could do that, but yeah…*I’m just letting things transpire now. I feel as though I failed our group and Stephen. So, I let Tear lead, withdrawing into myself.*

PrettyWitch: I just hope we can find something soon. Magic is pretty weak in this dimension based on what I know. But it’s not like we knew if my protection magic would replenish or not.

Tear: Well, we didn’t know we’d find interdimensional portals in an old mine either… *I lean sideways to press my shoulder to Steward’s in a small supportive gesture before going back to composing my text.* Plus, PrettyWitch was able to find that energy spell too. It proved there’s at least some magic here. I’m sure we’ll eventually be able to find something new to help the Cloak. We’ve got Laer’s researching prowess on our side, too. *I give a small smile. At this point, I’m not even sure if I’m trying to cheer Steward or myself up.*

Me: The more I think about it, the more I suspect that Stephen landing here is what triggered the whole magic and rift things, to be honest. *I’m just trying to find something to analyze and keep my mind busy so I don’t continue to spiral. I return the lean from Tear so she knows that I appreciate the gesture.*

Trix: The question is if it’s retroactive in our history because people disappeared from the mine in the past. Was it always like that or did changes happen when the rift did?

Me: I’d theorize it happened when the rift did. Since magic can alter reality itself, who’s to say it didn’t just rewrite what happened to those guys? Though honestly, that’s pretty out there. On the other hand, this isn’t anything we’ve ever dealt with before.

PrettyWitch: No, you’re right. I mean until now, I’d only been using my protection magic on people and places, but I had no guarantee if it worked or not.

*As an unintended side effect of tearing up before, my vision somewhat clears a little bit more. It’s still rather blurry, but I can at least navigate better. I subtly and grimly chuckle to myself about it.*

Me: Heh…Natural eye drops…

*There’s an odd sort of shimmer in midair in the garden. After a few seconds, it’s followed by a few sparks. I notice the sudden bright bits and stare, unsure what it is.*

Me (a bit scared): …Erm…Tear…? You see that, right? My eyes didn’t somehow get even more damaged, correct?

Tear: *I look up from my novel-length text and follow Steward’s pointing finger. The sight of the strange energy makes my heart give a painful jolt in fright and I curse loudly in Spanish* I do. You don’t think…that Stephen’s spell just summoned another entity like the one in the mine, right…? *I tense in fight or flight instinct and shoot a hand out to grip Steward’s arm. Out of everyone here, she’s the only one who’d understand the terror linked to that thought.*

Trix: Oh shit! Guys we gotta go! We gotta move!

PrettyWitch: Right!

*I look pale and about to vomit, staring at the new rift developing in my garden as I flashback to the horror we experienced down there.*

Me (knowing that he’s the only one who can possibly fend it off): Oh God…STEPHEN! *I yell at the top of my lungs.*

*A fiery ring of sparks opens up. The interior is blurred and shimmery. It’s uncertain whether it’s some sort of ‘interference’ from whatever is crossing over into our universe or simply from different multiverse energies. There is a broad shadow about to pass through.*

Tear: Go. Go go go go. Back inside. *I grab a hold of Steward’s hand and help her run back into the house, urgently herding Trix and PrettyWitch to run in front of me too.* STEPHEN! *I try yelling next, begging the universe he decided to stay in the house instead of going out on his own to mourn.*

*Stephen bursts out of his room, his eyes red and puffy. However, he’s ready to fight.*

Stephen (worried): What’s going on?

Me: RIFT. GARDEN.

Stephen: Shit! *He goes out to the garden, silently praying that he still has enough energy to be able to protect us.*

*It’s quiet for a second before we hear…Relief?*

Stephen (outside): Wong! How’d you find me?

*I silently mouth at the group, confused for a second.*

Me: Wait…Wong?

*It takes a moment to fully process.*

Me (lightbulb going off in my head): Oh my God! Wong finally found him! Though is it the right one…?

*I look at the group.*

Tear: *I stare back at Steward, my brain trying to catch up after such a horrible fright as well.* Wong… Oh, at this point I don’t care if he is. Oh, thank God. *I press a hand to my racing heart and close my eyes tightly. The wave of relief is so strong my knees buckle* Oh God, there goes my low blood sugar… *I practically melt against the kitchen counter and sink down, the combination of casting the energy spell and the spike of adrenaline finally catching up to me*

*I catch Tear quickly and help her sit down. Don’t need good eyesight to tell where she’s falling.*

Trix: Fuck- *wheezes out a breath* That could’ve been really really bad. Thank god we have some good karma built up.

PrettyWitch: *Runs to the cupboard and comes out with a box of crackers.* Here, have these, Tear. *I hold the box out to her.*

Me: Are you gonna be okay?

Tear: Yeah, yeah. Just pass me a soda and I’ll be good as new. *I wave their fear away and reach out to accept the crackers with shaking hands. The floor feels like it’s rocking underneath me as black spots flicker in my vision, but I concentrate on controlling my breathing and accept an already opened soda when it’s offered.*

*Stephen re-enters the house, followed by Wong, looking exhausted, but relieved.*

Stephen: Wong finally found me. *He’s processing this, a veritable parade of many emotions flashing through his mind at once.*

Wong (relieved as well, though he remains stoic as ever): It was not easy. I attempted to trace him several times to no avail and had no leads until a week ago when I used the Orb of Agamotto during another round of searching and detected a faint magical trace in another dimension. Yours. However, it was so brief that I couldn’t quite make it out and lost Strange’s trail again until now. The failed portal sent enough of Stephen and the Cloak’s mystical energy through the multiverse for me to trace them more properly. However, I see that it has effectively drained the Cloak of Levitation’s energy completely.

Stephen (grim): …Yes…

Trix: Can the Cloak be helped when it gets back home?

Wong: …We will have to see about that. I’ve never seen such an extensive drainage of magical energy before. I’ll have Stephen take it to Enitharmon the Weaver to see what can be done. Being trapped here in this non-magical dimension effectively starved both Stephen and the Cloak of energy. Hence, why the signatures from here were so weak. The only reason that any of this worked was the multidimensional rifts caused by Stephen’s arrival here leaking small amounts of energy into this world.

Tear: *I push myself back to my feet, still a bit pale but the sugar boost is already working its magic.* Aren’t rifts between dimensions supposed to be extremely dangerous? As in, incursion-level dangerous?

Wong: It depends on how big they get, how long they last, and what gets through. Mercifully, since your universe hadn’t had any rifts occur before and it is non-magical in nature, the damage was not as extensive as it could have been. Your world has not yet attracted enough “attention”, so to speak.

Me (staying nearby Tear to make sure she’s stable): …Do we have to worry about anything else?

Trix: Yeah, that sounds both good for Stephen but also worrying on our side since we don’t have a way to defend ourselves.

Wong: That, I’m not sure. Us returning to our world should typically allow the rifts to close over on their own, but Strange has been here for almost two weeks. We generally don’t stay in other dimensions for very long at all. Typically, not even 24 hours. This is unprecedented.

Stephen (gratefully, to the group): If there IS any problem here, then I’ll do my best to help you.

Me (warmly): Thank you, guys.

PrettyWitch: Hey, what are friends for?

Tear: *I smile fondly at the two sorcerers* With you two in our corner, I’m feeling safer already.

Trix: Hey, at least we got our emotional goodbyes in before you kinda blew up! Plus we get to meet Wong! *slightly leans to the side and completely focuses on Wong* Hi! Pleasure to meet you, you’re my favorite other than Mr. Cheekbones here!

*Wong looks at Stephen and then back at Trix and very slightly raises an eyebrow without changing any more of his expression.*

Wong (respectful, but a bit confused): …Thank you? What is your name, Miss…?

Trix: I’m Trix! To make things slightly less confusing, we know a decent bit about your universe as it is a popular media source via comics and movies and tv shows. Stephen wasn’t exactly impressed.

Wong: Interesting. Nice to meet you, Trix. *He gives a small nod in her direction.*

Trix: *grins back*

Wong: Now, if everything else has been sorted out here, Strange and I should get going.

Stephen (giving us a small smile): Thank you for everything while I was here, ladies.

Me (finally deciding to drop my defenses and be warm and cordial): We just did what we thought was the right thing, hon. Good luck and stay safe as best you can out there, okay?

Trix: Goodby- WAIT. I NEED TO GO GRAB SOMETHING FROM THE HOUSE, DO NOT LEAVE YET! *She sprints into the other room.*

Stephen: Hmm?

Trix: *Running significantly slower coming back with a large bag.* Here! *Shoves bag into Stephen’s arms.* After movie night we have a bunch of our movies and shows and music to send back with you! As something to remember us by!

*He grunts at the weight, but accepts the bag.*

Stephen: Thank you.

Me: Aw, hell…Keep the phone. I’ll just finish the payments on it. Dunno if it’ll even work interdimensionally, but eh. It’s a souvenir. If you can somehow contact us before the end of the month, I’ll keep your plan active.

*The sorcerer looks amused.*

Stephen (smirking): Fine. We’ll see.

PrettyWitch: I don’t really have anything to give you, so… *She hugs him again.* Don’t give up. There’s always another way, even if it seems like there isn’t…

Tear: Ah, fuck it. *I follow after PrettyWitch, tugging Steward with me, and hug Stephen around the middle as well. Trix only needs a little wave before she’s enthusiastically joining in on the group hug.* You’ve done amazing, Stephen. Thank you for everything.

*I follow Tear and gently hug Stephen, secretly grateful that she made me do this. I wanted to, but was too shy before. If I hadn’t done it, I probably would have regretted missing out. Stephen is surprised, but lets us.*

Stephen (his face now brick-red): Thanks, ladies. I’ll miss you too. You did a lot for me and I won’t forget it.

Wong (teasing a bit): It seems you’ve gathered some admirers here, Strange.

*Stephen is still blushing.*

Stephen: …I just got lucky.

Trix: Damn straight you did. *Sticking her tongue out at him.* Imagine if you didn’t land near some nerds.

Stephen (sarcastic, but more in a friendly way): Har har…

Wong (slight grin, teasing him): Come on, Strange. Don’t worry. We’ve already cleaned up the mess you left behind.

*Stephen huffs, but heads with Wong back outside and to the portal, waving goodbye as he leaves. The media bag is slung across his shoulder while he carefully holds the Cloak on his arm. After the two leave, the portal closes as we watch.*

Me: …Is it sappy to say that I miss those three already?

Trix: Nah, same here. Bit of a crazy time, huh? Now we have to go back to same old boring regular life.

Me: I’ll say…Also, blegh…Then again, I think we all need a bit of a break.

PrettyWitch: I just hope he lets us know if Cloakie’s gonna be okay.

Tear: *I throw an arm around PrettyWitch’s shoulders and give her a squeeze* I’m pretty sure a being as powerful as Enitharmon will be able to figure something out. Gosh, I can’t believe we’ll just have to go right back to work as if nothing happened though… *I groan out loud and rub my eyes with my hands, not looking forward to the pile of chores waiting for me back at the bakery.*

Me (tired and with mixed emotions, but getting back to business): …I suppose I should see if the shed will still stand. Otherwise, I need to repair it. Life won’t wait no matter what interdimensional shenanigans happen. Still can’t see too well, but enough to get by. Should probably be back at almost 100% by tomorrow. By the way, thanks for believing me and helping out when all of this went down. Seriously, I don’t know what I would have done without you all. *I smile gratefully at the group.*

Tear: Well, thanks for trusting us with the secret to begin with. I can’t say it was all a walk in the park but…I don’t regret a second of it.

PrettyWitch: Yeah, me too.

Trix: If you think you’re fixing that shed without help you’re insane at this point. *Smirking and gently teasing.*

Tear: I’ll go get you some drinks and snacks from the fridge!

*We grab our tools and happily get to work once more, even stronger as a group than before. Despite everything happening in just a couple of short weeks, everybody grew in one way or another and there is no challenge that each of us isn’t willing to face together.*

***THE END***

#doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #doctor strange meta fic #dr stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #multi author

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daisydaisybilly · 3 years

Text

life on mars | one | b.b

summary: after an accident y/n wakes up in 1940s Brooklyn with no idea what happened they had no option but to accept help from two stranger

word count: 1.3k

warnings: inaccurate knowledge of Brooklyn, mention of violence/fights, questionable medical stuff, swearing, hints to drowning and that's it i think

A/N: this is something i've been working on for a while and i feel like it's finally ready to be put out there. opening from a grey's anatomy episode!

shout out to @rosewrites for letting me borrow Sparkles from her story Cardiac Arrest which is amazing and you should all check out!

!!has been edit but likely missed a few things!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN | SERIES MASTERLIST

The back of the ambulance was tightly packed . This was your least favourite part of being a trauma surgeon, being the one they called when they needed someone fast. A handful of doctors were already at the scene tending to people.

You ran through all the information Joy, the paramedic had mention before you sent off. A boat had capsized near the pier, you weren’t sure what injures you would need to treat but you were ready.

As much as you wanted to keep your mind on your job, your mind kept finding its way to Stephen. After his accident he became more of an ass than he already was. You did everything you could to help him, gave him all the time you had to give. You were there every time he woke up from an operation along with Sparkles his not-girlfriend.

Operation after operation. The only thing that changed was his mood. After his last chance failed, he disappeared looking for something that would help, you only reason you knew he was still alive was thanks to Sparkles, she was the only person he’d talk too.

"Dr Gold we're here" Joy called from the front seat.

You snap out your head, grabbing your kit jumping out the back of the ambulance. when you were out you looked out at the scene before you, people lay on the floor, doctors attending to at least three patients each.

After a deep breath you got straight to work, assessing how serious their injuries where and if they could wait. Thankfully there wasn’t many serious injuries, you started to walk towards the information centre when you spotted something, no someone in the distance.

You started to run towards them, no wonder they hadn’t been seen they were hid behind a shipping container. “Sir can you hear me?” you reached down and tried to find a pulse, you sighed with relief finding one. “Okay sir, can you tell me what hurts?”.

Turning away you reached for your kit, you looked around wishing you hadn’t come alone if something happened now you didn’t have many options.

“Sir. I need to check your injures. Can you to tell me where it hurts” you tried again, checking his pupils, at least you could rule out a brain injury for now.

“my arm”

You looked down to his left arm, “okay, everything will be alright sir” you smile down to him, he just nods weakly back.

From where you were you couldn't get a good look at the arm. With one last look around you walk around and knelt by his other side. The cold sea air hit your back making the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

You breathed. Reached down to pull away his coat. Saw a deep red cut. You reached across to get some gauze from your kit. And then you were falling backwards. Everything moved in slow motion, you didn’t feel anything until you hit the cold water.

Shock. You were going to go into shock . You started to kick against the current as it tossed you around, you saw the water ripping above you. Just a little more and you’ll be fine, then you hit a pillar. You gasped pain distracting you, the water rushed into your lungs.

You felt a burning in your chest. The dizziness from your head was worse, you were sure there was blood mixed with the water.

You movements got slower, you breathed again, forgetting it was all water.

Would anyone find you? would they get to you in time?

Your movement was no existence now. The burning stopped, not a good side but you were too hazy to care. You closed your eyes.

A cloudless blue sky met your eyes. Birds flew above calling out to one another. Blinking you tried to remember where you were and why you were looking up at the sky in damp clothes.

You remember the water, it filling your lungs until you couldn’t take it anymore. You must have washed up on the shore, slowly you stood up looking around for help. Everything was the same. But everything was different. You were forgetting something, you just didn’t know what.

“How did I end up here?” you wonder turning in a full circle. Looking down at yourself, the blue dress and white apron sent an odd feeling through your chest. Lay on the floor next to you was a long brown coat.

You tried to think back before you fell in the water but nothing came up, whatever you were doing before was out of reach now.

You walked from the shore, trying to find your way to the streets. After 5 minutes of wondering around until the site of a building stopped you. You couldn’t point out why but you knew it.

You needed to touch it, something about it was different, you thought it you didn't feel it everything would disappear like a dream. Your hand was shaking as you reached out, the brick was cold and hard under your touch “what am I doing?” you murmured questioning yourself.

All around you people were getting on about their lives, talking, and laughing, among it all only one thing stood out. Someone was yelling. Either no one else heard what was going on or they just didn’t care.

When you looked down the closers alley you saw two men fighting, no, a man fighting a young boy.

“Hey!” you yell before you could think. The two, stop fighting looking your way.

“Nothing to worry about, honey. Move along” he man winked over his shoulder.

You huffed a breath of anger and walk closer, you pulled the man back by his shoulder. “I think it is”. The man was too shocked to move at first, staring at you opened mouthed like a fish. “Word to the wise don’t call anyone, love again”. You pulled him further away from the kid.

His eyes flashed with anger , he lifted his hand to hit you. You dodged it, then threw your own punch to his chin, then a kick to his stomach. He fell to the ground, your breath came heavy as you looked down at him.

A noise to your left took your attention away. That when you remember the young boy. “Are you okay?”, you reach out and to help him up.

“ Thank you miss, but I had it under control” he got up without your help, leaving your hand hanging in the air.

Closer up you could see he wasn’t a boy but a smaller grown man.

“He says that all the time” a voice laughed from behind.

You jumped turning around. There was another man, a rather handsome one.

“I’m guessing he likes to make a habit of it then” you breath smiling. “I’m afraid I can’t just let a bully get his own way” you nodded down to the passed-out man by your feet, “I might have hit him a bit too hard”.

The handsome man shrugged. “Teach him a lesson, no one wants to get taken down by a woman”.

You laughed.

Someone clears their throat, “Bucky”.

You turn away raising an eyebrow. “what?”

He nodded to the handsome man behind you, “His name. And I’m Steve”.

You smile nodding, “Nice to met you”.

“So Goldie, how come you’re soaking?” Bucky spoke.

You looked at him confused. “That’s not my name-“.

“Sorry nurse Gold how come you’re soaking wet” he waved his hand.

“Nurse?” you laughed.

Bucky pointed to your chest, “Your name tag says nurse Gold”.

“Is everything alright?” Steve had moved so that he could stand in front of you, Bucky had come closer too.

You reached up again and touched your head, it was still wet. “I feel into the water and I must have hit my head”.

“Can we help?” Steve asked worried, he put his hand on your shoulder, like you were going to fall any minute.

You laughed, “You don’t have any dry clothes lying around do you?”.

taglist open!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 7

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,400ish

Summary: Clint has feelings. You try not to cause too much drama at work.

You immediately began avoiding Steve after Gamora caught you two in the car. You need not need her, or anyone else, thinking that you were sleeping with him to get ahead. Having no desire to get ready for work, you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, as your alarm buzzed.

Outside in the hall, Clint was nervously walked towards your door with two cups of coffee.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask her out?” Valkyrie suddenly asked, popping out of her room.

“Ah!” Clint jumped, slipping the coffees on him. “Val!”

“She’s right, ya know?” Scott added, stepping out of his room. “Just ask her out. It’s not like it will be awkward when she tells you no.”

“I hate you both,” Clint grumbled. He leaned into your door, able to hear to slam on the snooze button for the third time. “She’s gonna be late.”

“Maybe not.”

“We should wait for her.”

“Definitely not,” Val shook her head. “I’m not her mother, and you are not her boyfriend.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Scott added.

“Stop, both of you, okay?” Clint said, frustrated. “I told you I’m not interested.”

“Life is short, Clint,” Val said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you really want to die before you ever ask her out?”

“I do not want to ask her out.”

“Do you really want to die a liar?” Scott said.

“I’m not… I’m not dying.”

~~~

From the parking garage, you rushed towards the building. Late for work. As you wait for the elevator, you see Steve coming toward you.

“Crap,” you mutter.

“Crap?” Steve repeated, having heard you.

“Hi. I’m late.”

“Hi, late. You’re avoiding me.”

“You’re right. But I can’t do this right now. I’m late.” You hurried towards the stairs, only for him to follow you.

“Okay, but are we going to talk about this?”

“No.” You marched up the stairs.

“About us and Gamora and what she saw?”

“I don’t need to talk about it. I experienced it. Naked.”

“This is getting complicated.”

“Complicated for me. Not necessarily for you. I’m the intern sleeping with the attending. Gamora isn’t even speaking to me anymore!”

“Not that, that’s a bad thing. If I was a better guy, I’d walk away.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Do you want me to be a better guy.”

“Yes. Now,” you reached the level of the locker rooms, “I’m late. Please leave me alone and get to my job.” You opened the door. Steve caught it, keeping it open as you walked away.

“Take your time! Think about it!”

“Think about what?” Tony asked, walking over to Steve. He looked to where Steve was looking, watching her rush down the all. “Ooohhh… I get it now. Well, at least she’s talking to you.”

“The date go bad with Pepper?”

“It didn’t go at all. I was pulled into a surgery and completely forgot about it.”

“Yikes.”

“I think I’ve blown it.”

“Me too, Stark. Me too.”

~~~

“That was definitely worth being late,” Natasha sighed as she put on her pants.

“Thanks,” Bruce smiled shyly, doing the same. “Is this a… should we talk about this?”

“Yeah,” Natasha slipped her shirt on, “definitely. Just, I’m late.”

She rushed out of the on-call room and straight to the locker room, where you were getting ready.

“You’re late,” you stated.

“So are you,” Natasha responded.

“I know, and I can’t afford to piss off Gamora any more. Do you think she told anyone?”

“About you and Captain McDreamy?”

“Yeah.”

“No, he’s her boss too.”

“If they find out, what can they… Can they kick me out? Or—“

“No…. Well, I don’t think officially. You'll just get edged out, blacklisted, banned from his surgeries, passed over for chief resident. It’ll be humiliating, but you’ll live.”

“I have to end it. I definitely have to end it… I have to end it, right?”

“Y/N, shut up.” Nat headed out of the locker room.

“What?” You chased after her. “Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?”

“Oh, please. You got a hot doctor who like to make you open up, and say "ahh." It's the American dream, stop whining about it.”

“No. No good can come from sleeping with your boss.” You two arrived in front of Gamora.

“Natasha, you’re late,” Gamora stated, unhappy.

“So is Y/N,” Natasha replied, pointing at you.

“When we walk in this door, you will maintain decorum,” Gamora continued, ignoring Nat and you. “You will not laugh, vomit, or drop your jaw. Are we understood?” She walked to a door.

“Why would we laugh?” Val asked quietly.

“Oh, just you wait,” Peter replied.

The interns followed Gamora into a patient room. On the bed, there was a heavier woman with an extremely large tumor bulging out fo her side.

“Good morning, Miss Anderson,” Gamora greeted.

“Good Morning,” Miss Anderson, the patient, replied.

“What is it?” Scott whispered.

“Tumor,” Nat responded.

“Good morning, Millie,” Peter smiled, walking around to the other side of the patient’s bed. “How are you? This is Dr. Gamora and some of my fellow interns.”

“Dr. Quill, we refer to patients as ‘mister’ and—“ Gamora began to reprimand.

“I old him to call me Millie,” the patient interrupted. “Miss Anderson makes me feel old and fat, which I am, but why have to feel that way?”

“Good morning,” Dr. Banner greeted upon entering, eyes lingering on Natasha a beat too long.

“Millie, this is Dr. Banner,” Peter stated.

“Dr. Quill, give us the run down.”

“Millie Anderson is a 43-year-old woman who presented last night with progressive shortness of breath fo the past three months. Found to have a very large tumor of unknown origin pressed against her diaphragm. Stable vital signs. Scheduled for CT this morning, sir.”

“Thank you, Dr. Quill.” Banner turned to Millie. “Are you at all claustrophobic?”

“I’ve been housebound for the last year,” Millie replied. “How claustrophobic could I be?”

“Alright then. Dr. Valkyrie is going to take you up for a CT. It’ll give us a better look at the tumor, and we’ll know how to proceed.”

“Could someone tell my dad? He’ll worry if he gets back and I’m not here.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And would it be possible for Peter to take me instead? I mean, he… he’s just so fun to look at.”

“Millie,” Peter laughed, clearly trying to gain favor.

“Sure,” Banner said. “Sure, Miss Anderson. Excuse me.”

Dr. Banner left the room, with Dr. Gamora and the interns following.

“How much do you think it weighs?” Scott asked.

“60 pounds,” Clint answered.

“More,” Val said. “She’s carrying a whole extra person.”

“This one’s going in the books,” Natasha said. “I’ve got to get in.”

“I almost did,” Val glared at Peter.

“I was on call last night when she came in,” Peter said. “I’m never leaving this place again.”

“Let’s move, people,” Gamora said. “Miss Anderson’ surgery, should we choose to proceed, will take most, if not all, of the surgeons off the floor. Which means you people will have to work extra hard not to kill anyone, cause we won’t be there to fix your mistakes.”

You and the others listened to Gamora’s orders while Natasha slipped away to talk to Bruce.

“I really want in on this,” she whispered to him.

“I thought we weren’t talking,” Bruce replied, eyebrow up.

“I’m not talking. I’m just saying.”

Bruce sighed. “Find her father, get a family history, and I’ll tell Gamora.”

~~~

“I know you both think I like Y/N,” Clint stated as him, Scott, and Val walked up the stairs. “But I don’t like Y/N.”

“What?” Val questioned.

“No. I like Y/N. Obviously, I like her. She’s my roommate. I just… I don’t have a thing for her.” Scott and Val shared a look.

“Okay,” Scott said.

“It’s just this morning… I know you two were probably just teasing. But I don’t want you to say anything like that to her. Because, you know, we live together and that’d be awkward.”

“Clint, stop talking,” Val ordered.

“Okay, then… It’s just—“

“Seriously, dude,” Scott stopped in front of Clint. “You’re making this all worse. Just stop.” Scott peered behind Clint where you were making your way towards them. “Or you could just be honest with yourself and us and ask her out now.” Clint looked back to see you almost there.

“What are you guys standing here for?” You asked. “We’re going to be late meeting Gamora.”

You and Val continued on your way with Scott watching Clint watch you.

“Liar,” Scott muttered, shaking his head.

The two guys caught up with you and Val. The four of you met up with Gamora in another patient room. Inside the room, a man is trying to walk but was having difficulty. Steve was also in there and a younger woman.

“Morning,” Gamora greeted.

“Mr. Jones, this is Dr. Gamora and her fine staff of surgical interns,” Steve introduced. Steve, yourself, and Gamora all exchanged glances.

“Welcome to hell, kids,” Mr. Jones stated.

“Who’s presenting?” Gamora asked.

“Edward Jones,” Clint stated, “is a 63-year-old man admitted for pain management for Dyskinesia. He's been stable since last night, and responding to the bolus injections.”

“Val, possible treatments?”

“For Parkinson’s disease?” Val questioned. “Um, deep brain stimulation has shown—“

“Not for Parkinson’s,” Steve clarified, “for spinal pain.”

“Oh, um…”

“Instraspinal catheter,” you stated. “That way, he can have constant pain medication.”

“Excellent,” Steve smiled. “This is Dr. L/N. She’s gonna prep you for the procedure and assist.” His pager beeped, causing him to look down. “Excuse me.” He left.

“You make yourselves busy,” Gamora said, following Steve out. “I’ll catch up with you.”

She followed Steve to the elevator. Where they end up alone.

“Gamora,” Steve greeted.

“Excuse me?” She responded.

“Well, that’s your name, right? It’s on your jacket.” She wasn’t impressed. “Alright, fine. Dr. Gamora then.”

“You think you're charming in that talented, neurotic, overly moussed hair sort of way, good for you. But if you think I'm going to stand back and watch while you favor her—“

“I don’t favor her. She’s good.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“You know, can I point out that, technically, I'm your boss?”

“You don't scare me. Look, I'm not going to advertise your extracurricular activities with my intern. However, the next time I see you favoring Y/N L/N in any way, I'll make sure she doesn't see the inside of on OR for a month. Just for the sake of balance.”

~~~

“Okay, Mr. Jones,” you said with a smile. “We're going to get you more comfortable, okay? I'm going to go downstairs and I'll be back up shortly.”

“Okay,” Mr. Jones responded.

“Okay.”

You left, with the younger woman from the room following you out.

“Excuse me,” the younger woman called out, causing you to turn your attention to her. “I’m sorry, doctor…”

“L/N,” you smiled.

“Dr. L/N. I’m Lucy, his daughter. My dad seems to like you. He’s always liked your type. Is that rude? I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

“Is there something—“

“I was wondering if you would talk to him.”

“About?”

“Brain surgery. The doctor mentioned it, and I've read about it online. If it worked, it could help with most of his symptoms, not just his pain.”

“Is he a candidate? I don’t—“

“He is, but he's afraid of it. Surgery on his back, he can understand, but his brain...And there are risks. But his quality of life…”

“There isn’t any.”

“And, it keeps getting worse. I'm getting married next month. I already lost my mom. And I want him to walk...I want him with me. Maybe that's selfish, but...you don't know what it's like having a parent...Watching him…”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

You immediately left in search of Steve. You watched outside a room where he was talking to Gamora and Banner about Miss Anderson.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called as he walked out. “Mr. Jones, the Parkinson's patient, is he a good candidate for DBS?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but he’s not interested.”

“Okay, but I think it's worth talking to him again, pushing him.”

“We're talking about a brain surgery that is performed while the patient is wide awake, a risk of paralysis, a risk of death. And, the patient doesn't want it. It is not my job to push him into anything and it's definitely not yours.”

“Okay.”

“And since you’re clearly uncomfortable with my decision in this case, it's probably best you don't scrub in.”

“But—“

“It’s a minor procedure. You won’t be missed.” This took you by surprise. “I’m good here, Dr. L/N.” With your mind reeling, you walked away. Steve turned to Gamora, who had been watching. “You know that you’re a bully, right?”

“So I’ve heard,” Gamora replied.

~~~

You and Val were sitting in a corner of the cafeteria, eating lunch.

“It's just that he blatantly favors me in front of her and then blatantly dismisses me,” you complained to her.

“How do you know he was favoring you?” She asked, which you didn’t answer. “Look, you've got a brain. You got into this program. Just because Rogers wants to munch your cookies doesn't mean you didn't deserve what you worked for.”

“But he’s making me look bad. I have to end it.”

“Right.”

“It’s over.”

“Sure.”

“Is it true you get to scrub in on that tumor?” Peter asked Natasha, appearing out of nowhere with Val. They both sat down at your table.

“Don’t sit here.”

“You get to scrub in?” Val repeated. “How psyched are you?”

“On a scale of one to ecstatic, ecstatic.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Peter complained. “You know what I think? I think Banner wants to get into your scrubs.”

“Why are you sitting here?”

“He kicked me off that surgery for the same crap most of you pull every day.”

“You know what.” Natasha held up her fork. “If I stuck this fork into his thigh, would I get in trouble?”

“Not if you make it look like an accident,” you answered.

“Hey!” Clint greeted, coming up with Scott.

“Thank goodness,” Peter exclaimed. “I’m drowning in estrogen here.”

Clint sat down next to you, studying you. “You look… is everything okay?” He asked you.

“Rogers is a jackass,” you muttered.

“Really?” Val questioned. “I think he’s kind of great.”

“He reamed her out in front of Gamora,” Natasha said.

“Why?”

“Cause he’s a jackass,” you repeated.

“Well, bad days are… bad,” Clint said. “Maybe tonight, uh, if, you know, if you drink alcohol, I mean… we could, all of us, I mean, go out and rink alcohol… because of the bad day.”

Your pager beeped. “I’ve got to go.” And you left.

“Dude,” Peter laughed at Clint once you were gone.

Clint groaned and rested his head on the table. Scott panted his shoulder while the others laughed.

~~~

Steve had called you to Mr. Jones room. You stood near the door, watching.

“How’s your back?” Steve asked Mr. Jones as he checked him over.

“Still good,” the patient responded.

“Good.” Steve turned to Mr. Jones daughter. “How are you? Good?” She nodded as he turned his attention back to her father. “Can you lean forward for me? I just want to check something. Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Right here?” Steve pressed along Mr. Jones’ back. The man grunts slightly and Steve looked up, finally noticing you. “Mr. Jones,” Steve took his hands off the man, “have you given any more thought about the other surgical options we discussed this morning?”

“What? Why would I? I already told you no. I'm letting you cut into my back, but that's not enough for you. All you guys ever want to do is cut.”

“Dad,” his daughter scolded, “just listen to what he has to say.”

“I already listened.”

“Sir, there’s a very small window of opportunity here,” Steve stated. “You know, once the Parkinson's progresses to a point of dementia, there's, you know, you're no longer a candidate for DBS.”

“And when I'm no longer a candidate, is that when you people will leave me the hell alone! What? Do I have to start drooling, and forget my name to get a little peace and quiet?”

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “I’ll check back with you later. Try to get some rest.” Steve left while you lingered a bit longer, just more in the hallway.

“Dad, you’re being unreasonable,” the daughter said. “The doctors are only trying to help you.”

“It’s my damn life, and it’s my damn brain,” Mr. Jones stated. “You want me to let them cut up my brain while I'm lying there awake, for what?”

“Dad!”

“I'll be at your wedding. I will sit in the back. Your uncle will walk you down the aisle. I know it's not perfect, but it's life. Life is messy sometimes.”

“I know that.” The daughter walked out and Mr. Jones looked at you.

“If she knows, then what the hell are we still talking for, huh? Why in the hell can’t she drop it?”

“It is your life,” you said, stepping further into the room. “But it’s her life too. And you have a chance to get better here. And all she's asking you to do is try.”

~~~

Mr. Jones agreed to the DBS. But you needed to hurry and find Steve, before the man changed his mind. You found him scrubbing in for Miss Anderson’s surgery with Banner and Gamora.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called.

“Yes?” He responded, looking over with his red, white, and blue scrub cap on and a mask.

“Mr. Jones has agreed to DBS. Only if we do it today. If he leaves, he won’t come back.”

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Bruce said. “It’ll take hours before we get around to the spine. I’ll page you.”

“Alright, then,” Steve said, shaking off his wet hands. “Let’s do it.”

Steve walked out of the scrub room while Bruce walked into the OR, leaving you and Gamora alone.

“Dr. Gamora. I didn’t know… I din’t know that he was my boss, when I met him,” you said. “I really didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” she responded.

“Really? Oh, well, you sort of seemed to not be talking to me, so I—“

“You see this, what's happening right here? This is the problem with you sleeping with my boss. Not whether or not you know him before, but how it affects my day. And me standing here talking to you about your sex life affects my day. And the longer this little fling goes on, the more favors you get over the others, who are fighting tooth and nail just to make it through this program without any assistance. When those people start finding out what's going on and they don't want to work with you and talk to you or look at you, and they start bitching and moaning at me, the more it affects my day. So, no, Dr. L/N, I don't care what you know, or when you know it. Are we understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

~~~

“Neuro sponge,” a male nurse said, handing a sponge to Steve.

“How you doing, Mr. Jones?” Steve asked.

“Alright,” Mr. Jones responded.

“Drill bit’s charged,” the nurse announced.

“Where’s the girl doctor?”

“I’m right here,” you responded, stepping closer. “Can’t you see me?”

“I’m shaky, not blind. Anything goes wrong here, I’m blaming you.”

“Okay, in that case, I'll stay where you can see me. Now we just have to drill a hole and try to find the spot that controls the motor function.”

“You can't see my brain from there. Aren't you supposed to be learning something?”

“I’m good,” you grabbed onto his hand, “right here.”

“EEG waves look good,” the nurse stated.

“Okay, Mr. Jones. Just take a couple of deep breaths,” Steve told him. “Focus on the pretty girl. Okay, this is going to sound really scary, but try and relax. You shouldn't feel a thing.”

Then Steve began to drill into Mr. Jones’ head. After a few hours, Steve asked you to have Mr. Jones try and mimic you.

“Just keep trying, Mr. Jones,” you encouraged. “Mimic my motions. You can do it.”

“Oh, damn it!” His body was too shaky to mimic the motions.

“Take a breath and try again. The probe is almost in. You’ll know when we find the right spot.” Mr. Jones tries again, to find that he stopped shaking and was able to mimic you. “Well, how about that?” You smiled, though it was covered with a mask.

“There it is,” Steve said.

~~~

After the surgery, you and Steve brought Mr. Jones back to his room and met back in the hallway.

“I know you’re probably asking yourself why I took you off the surgery,” Steve said. “Gamora was on the warpath. I was trying to protect you.”

“You trying to protect me is why she's on the warpath,” you replied, the both of you heading down the hall. “You can't do me favors. You can't ask me to scrub in when I haven't earned it.”

“Okay, okay.”

“And you can't treat me like crap when I haven't earned that either.”

“Okay.”

“I can take care of myself. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll—“

“And you'll get yourself out?”

“I don’t… I don’t know that yet.” Steve’s pager went off as you arrived at the staircase. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“You did great work here today.” He smiled at you then headed off.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called after him.

“Yeah?” He turned around to face you.

“Sorry I called you a jackass.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Twice.”

Steve chuckled and continued on his way. Tony had heard and seen the exchange from behind. He came up beside you.

“You both are love sick idiots,” he said.

“And you aren’t?” You responded.

“Yes. But I blew it.”

“Dr. Potts will give you another chance.”

“How do you know? Did she tell you that?”

“No. I just know from experience.”

~~~

You decided to go to the OR gallery and watch Miss Anderson’s surgery. Peter was up there watching as well.

“Wow, it’s unbelievable,” you said, looking at the mess down below.

“Right,” Peter agreed.

“How did she live like that?”

“Watch what you say. You never know who's listening.” He looks down below, then laughed. “Look at Scottie. He looks like he's about to fall in.”

“Are you really as shallow and callous as you seem?”

“Oh, you want to go out for a drink later and hear about my secret pain?”

“Does that line ever work for you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh. Must be because you look like that.”

“Like what?” You laughed at him. “So is that a yes?”

“No. I can't. I’m… seeing someone.”

“Look, if you don't want to go out with me, just say so. No need to lie.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I don't want to go out with you. But I think I really might be seeing someone.”

Suddenly, Val entered the OR below. And you could hear everything that was happening.

“Mr. Collins, the post-op heart patient in 2114. I had to open his sternotomy bedside,” Val stated, almost panicked.

“You what?” / “What?”

Peter quickly left the gallery and you stood up to watch from the glass.

“He had cardiac tamponade. His chest films were clean this morning,” Val explained. “It just... It happened fast. He was in PEA. There was no time.”

“Go ahead,” Steve told Bruce. “I got it. We’re okay here.”

“Okay.” Bruce hurried out with Val.

“I need some retraction. Pull back on the retractor. And someone page Hill to help… Never a dull moment here at the medical center.” A blood vessel burst, suddenly, squirting blood all over Steve and Gamora. “Oh!”

“Oh!” Gamora exclaimed.

“Get right in there!”

“She can’t afford to lose this much blood. We need more blood.”

“Get me some suction here. I can't see what I'm doing. Clamp, clamp, clamp, please. Is there any blood in the rapid infuser?”

“We’re waiting on two units,” the female nurse stated.

“What do you mean, waiting?”

“Well, we didn’t anticipate this much blood loss,” Gamora replied.

“They’re on their way,” the nurse said.

“We prepped a double supply. We’ve used it all.”

“What did you cut?” Steve asked.

“Nothing. It just blew. She came in with too much damage. The artery walls are too weak. Ten units of o-negative.”

“I cannot see. Lang, give me your hand. Push right down here. Pull it towards you. Suction! Suction!”

“The pressure’s dropping,” a nurse stated.

“She needs blood. Where the hell is the blood?! Somebody grab that. Push it back, Lang. Come on.” Everyone is breathless as they move Miss Anderson more onto the table. “Oh, God. Just squeeze it off right there. Here we go… Some suction, please, in here, now. Come on. We're losing her now. Look at this. Look at this. Come on!” He started CPR, with the flatline of the machine going. "Oh, come on! Come on!” He continued with the CPR. "Come on!” After a few more times, Steve breathlessly stopped CPR. “Time of death is 11:42.”

~~~

Natasha found her way to an on call room after Miss Anderson’s surgery. She was stretching when Bruce entered.

“I'm not doing you any more favors,” he stated. “This was it.”

Natasha scoffed. “I've been holding up 50 pounds of tumor for the past 12 hours. My back's going to need traction, and the patient died anyways. And you think you did me a favor?”

“Look, I'm just… What is this… that we're doing here? What is it?”

“You need a definition? You really want to be that guy?”

He watched as she continued to stretch, then he locked the door.

~~~

You waited in the parking garage for Steve to leave the hospital. He walked up to you.

“I, um, know this place where they’re an amazing view of the sunrise and ferryboats,” you told him, pulling out some beers from your bag.

“I have a thing for ferry boats,” he smirked.

“I remember.”

He took a hold of your hand, leading you to his car.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #gamora x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #valkyrie x reader #peter quill x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #steve rogers imagine

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dailydaydreamings · 3 years

Text

Best in the Worst Way, Part 11

I have way too much experience with this kind of trauma. One thing I know, the experience isn’t always linear. How you feel jumps from one moment to the next. Maybe this is my way of coping, but for some reason I need to get this all down. Lots of swearing —K

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

There’s something totally surreal about trauma.

There’s nothing like the feeling of getting a late night call to get to the hospital and fast. It is pure stomach dropping terror.

Realists would know what it means, rushing to the hospital to see their loved ones, potentially for the last time.

Driving to the compound, gnawing on your thumb, you start to wonder how many traumas there are. How many people a year get a call to hurry to the hospital to see their loved ones. Maybe for the last time.

Out of the those cases, how many people are too late? How many show up and their loved ones still die?

Fuck, how bad was it. You ran your hand through your hair as you sat at a stop light, tears streaming down your face.

How much of a liar was Tony? Would he lie and tell you that they were alive if they weren’t, just so you wouldn’t kill yourself driving over?

You wouldn’t have to rush if this light would fucking turn green.

There was no one around, it was nearly midnight...why wait?

You tapped your fingers on the wheel, maybe you weren’t on the sensor and the light would never turn green and Bucky and Steve would die waiting for you...what’s the harm?

Your foot shifted to the gas, cautiously accelerating.

A horn blares and you slam on the gas, barely avoiding an oncoming car.

You think you might have screamed, either way, you wer suddenly pulling your off the road and scrambling out.

You reached for your keys, your hand missing twice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you finally got hold of your keys and practically fell out of your car. From your knees, you reached for the door handle and pulled yourself up.

Your head swam as you leaned against the car and made your way to the passenger side. As soon as you were off the road, you tossed your keys into the field of grass in front of you.

And immediately regretted it.

“Oh, shit,” you leaned against the hood and stared out at the dark field.

You remembered a rule of dealing with trauma. Take a breath and get control of yourself.

Fact, you shouldn’t have been driving. You cradled your belly, where your children were kicking furiously. You weren’t thinking straight. You were thinking about your boys, not the babies inside of you.

And there was no way you were finding your keys tonight.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialed Natasha, she answered on the first ring, “Where are you?! Is everything okay, you should be here by now!”

You closed your eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths, “Can you please come get me? I’m fifteen minutes out from the compound, sitting on the side of the road. I just about crashed my car.”

Twenty minutes later, Natasha’s car pulled up behind yours and both Natasha and Clint hoped out. At this point, you were spiraling, your breath coming in short pants.

“Fucking Tony!” Natasha slammed her door. “I said, don’t let her drive. You can’t let her drive after telling her something like that!”

“Yelling at Tony isn’t going to solve anything!” Clint snapped at her. He came to stand in front of you, both hands grasping your shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine. Now, where are your keys?”

You pursed your lips, looking over his shoulder at the field. “I kinda...tossed them...”

Clint raised an eyebrow, his head jerking to look out at the long glass. “Oh. Okay. We’re all just gonna get in Natasha’s car. Then I’m gonna go get a metal detector and find your keys!”

You nodded, pushing off your car and stumbled, your head swimming.

“Alright, kiddo,” Clint wrapped an arm around your waste. “Let’s get you in the car.”

“What if they’re dead and Tony’s a liar?” You asked, stumbling as Clint guided you towards Natasha.

“Oh, no,” Natasha open the car door. “We talked to the field team. They’re stable, just a bit of a mess.”

You slid into the passenger seat, stroking your belly, trying to soothe yourself. Clint got into the backseat and Natasha got into the drivers seat.

“I keep thinking about all those silly medical shoes I watched in university, where there’s a trauma and they go from fine to dying in a minute and then the family doesn’t get there on time,” you murmur.

You weren’t sure either of them heard you until Natasha quietly answered, “I’ve seen that happen, in the field. It can happen, but right now, all signs point to them being stable and we will getting to the compound at the same time as they are.”

The light pollution started getting worse the closer you got the compound. For some reason, all you wanted to was run away.

“The babies kicked today for the first time,” you said numbly. “They’re gonna be here soon. I n-need to get a crib, and, um, a diaper bad. Other stuff too. I need to book, uh, birthing classes. Maternity clothes...”

Natasha exchanged a quick glance with Clint, “We can worry about all of that later. We’ll make a list!”

You frown and murmur, “I don’t know how to change a diaper.”

Clint squeezed your shoulder, “You’ll learn, it’s okay!”

You laugh dryly, “Buck was learning. Every spare minute. He was so excited to change diapers.”

“Okay, she’s gonna need something to calm her down,” You hear Clint mumbled to Natasha. You ignore him, choosing to curl up towards the window, watching a helicopter fly towards the compound. Your boys were up there.

———

Panic was surging through your veins, but you shook your head as you strode towards the medical wing.

“How bad is it,” you shout at Tony, trying your best to keep a level head.

He looked up at you from his phone, his hair a mess. “I don’t know,” he called back. “I just know they’re stable and we have two ORs prepped just in case.”

Your eyes focused on the door behind Tony, the boys would come through those door at any second. You came to stop beside him, fiddling with the dainty necklace you always wore.

“I fucking told you she shouldn’t drive,” Natasha hissed at Tony behind you.

You were vaguely aware of Tony throwing his hands in the air. “I just said—”

You turned at spat, “Not fucking helping.”

They exchanged a look, both turning to sit in the waiting chairs and you started to pace.

“I’m gonna kill them,” You say calmly, stroking your belly, your eyes constantly checking the elevator.

Natasha leaned over and whispered to Tony, “She’s gonna need a sedative.”

The elevator dinged and a gurney rolled out. You almost puked.

“What. The. Fuck!” You glared at Tony, who was already scrambling to his feet.

“No one said it was this bad!” He said.

You swallowed, hard, looking down at Steve. He was sedated, his face was bruised and battered, and he had a massive branch through his abdomen.

“It didn’t hit anything serious,” the nurse behind the gurney said. “We’re gonna go straight to the OR and get this taken care of right now.”

You couldn’t helps yourself as you looked down at his face, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Steve.”

“Ma’am,” she said.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you said to him.

“Ma’am,” she insisted. “We have to go now.”

You stepped back, making a point of raising your hands in the air defensively.

You watched them until they turned down the next hallway.

Natasha came up and put her hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay? Do you need to cry?”

You looked up at the ceiling, counting the lights as you let out a long breath, “Not yet.” Not until you saw Bucky. Pregnant or not, hormonal or not, he was not going to see you cry.

The elevator dinged again and chaos erupted.

It happened so fast, Natasha grabbed you and pulled you away from the door. Tony was yelling. So was Bucky.

He was thrashing wildly, despite the restraints.

“Head trauma,” the nurse wheeling the gurney already had a bruise forming on his cheek.

“Buck!” You shouted. He roared in anger and you flattened yourself against the wall.

And he was gone, down the hall.

Natasha looked down at you as you slowly started sliding down the wall.

They weren’t okay. No matter what Tony had said, that wasn’t okay. Steve had a fucking tree through his stomach and Bucky, poor Bucky was stuck in his own head. His most feared prison. This wasn’t going to be like taking the home tomorrow and putting a bandaid over a scratch, this was far, far worse.

“What do you need?” She asked, kneeling in front of you.

“A change of clothes,” you said numbly.

She rubbed your thigh, “Okay, I’ll call Clint to stop by your place, okay?”

You nodded, “Can you ask him to grab my black bag on the stool by the breakfast bar? It has, it has my meds.”

“Of course.”

“And t-there’s this god awful, ugly b-brown blanket on the bed. It’s Bucky’s.” Your voice started to waiver, tears welling in your eyes. “It totally ruins the aesthetic of the room.”

She grasped your hand and you wiped your tears. “I’m sure it does.”

“And, there’s one blue pillow on the bed. The pillow case is blue. Steve sleeps with it every night.”

And the flood gates opened and you started to cry.

———

“The surgery went better than expected,” the surgeon told you.

You wiped a stray tear from your face. “It-it did?” You hiccuped.

“Absolutely it did,” she gave you a warm smile. “And with his DNA, he’s gonna be just fine and walking around in no time.”

You nodded, “Thank you.” Your voice broke and she gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m not normally a m-mess. I’m just pregnant.”

She laughed, “It’s okay, I can tell. He’s gonna need some support, but remember to take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, “Can I see him?”

“Of course, this way,” she directed you to walk down the hallway.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw him. He looked massive in that bed. He didn’t really fit, it didn’t look right to see Captain America in a hospital bed. Monitors beeped steadily at his side, the only real proof to you he was alive.

You hugged his lumpy pillow to you left chest. It still smelled like him.

You stared at the monitor, counting the insistent beeping, making sure he was still breathing...

“Is that for him,” a nurse said, rubbing hand sanitizer on her hands as she came in. You were still standing in the door way, starring, twenty minutes later.

“Um, yeah,” you answered, shaking your head to get out of whatever spell the monitor had put you under. “Can you...”

She smiled at you warmly, “Of course, hon.” She gently took the pillow from you, breaking the spell.

You stumbled forward, sitting down in the chair beside his bed.

“You can hold his hand,” she said, readjusting his pillows.

“We haven’t been in a good place,” you admitted, “for months. He wanted me to get an abortion and then he didn’t and I just, I pushed him away. I don’t know if he’d want me here but I-I can’t not be here.”

The nurse paused, coming to sit down in the chair opposite to you. “He’s going to want you to be here when you wake up. No matter what happened, he’s going to want you by his side.”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. “I don’t know what to say to him. Because I’m still mad, honestly. I want to kick his ass.”

She laughed and so did you, wiping a tear from your face.

The nurse cleared her throat, “It isn’t my place, but you don’t have to forgive him. But you’re going to end up throwing everything away if you’re not here when he wakes up.”

You nodded your thanks, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand.

———

“Y/n?” Steve voice woke you from your sleep on the cot beside his bed, you scrambled for the light before reaching for his hand.

His deep blue eyes looked up at you with so much pain and confusion.

“What do you need?” You asked, cupping his face. “Are you in pain?”

He shook his head, trying hard to swallow. You reached for a cup of water, knowing his throat probably felt like sandpaper after intubation.

“Where’s Bucky?” He asked.

You looked up at his monitors to avoid his eye, “They won’t let me see him. The meds aren’t working, he’s in a fury. They said that they’re giving him medication to calm him down, sedating him, and they’re going to try to wake him up soon.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened. “You should be with him.”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead, “This fight between us is no where close to over but you are still a big part of my life and I love you. I need to be here for both my boys and he will need me soon.”

There were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, for everything. Bucky and I had a fight about it and, I’m not ready for everyone to know about the three of us.”

You nodded, understanding his fear.

“But,” he continued, “I don’t want to be the uncle. I want to be the dad. So, I’m here and I want to be here, for both of you.”

A tear dripped down your face, you leaned forward and brought your lips to his.

“Mrs y/l/n,” a man cleared his throat at the door. You turned to see some poor intern wringing his hands at the sight of Captain America.

“Yes?” You asked.

He broke his stare with Steve and said, “I’ve been asked to inform you they’re waking up Mr Barnes and you said you wanted to be there.”

You exchanged a look with Steve. He squeezed your hand and you walked to your bag in the corner, pulling out Bucky’s blanket.

Steve asked quietly, “Will you see if Bucky can be transferred into the same room soon? That way she doesn’t need to go in between our rooms.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, but the intern nodded and scurried off.

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze, “I’ll be back soon.”

You walked down the hall until you found the room where they were administering some medication to wake Bucky up. Your mouth went dry, he was still restrained.

“Can we get some of these restraints off,” you asked coolly, striding into the room and sitting beside the bed, the blanket in your lap. “He’s not an animal.”

“Mr Barnes is prone to violence following sedation,” the doctor tells you. You grit your teeth at that but let it go. “This could take some time, someone will be just outside if he acts out.”

You didn’t bother to point out that they had him chained down and he couldn’t right now.

Instead, you played with a frayed edge of the blanket. Steve adoringly called it Bucky’s baby blanket. It obviously wasn’t, but it was the blanket he’d slept with since living in Bucharest, it was with him in Wakanda, and he slept with it every night since.

At this point, it was more patch ups than blanket though. When the boys had moved in, the only thing Bucky brought was this ugly blanket full of holes. Trying, in vain, to make it look better to preserve the feel of your room, you learned to patch it up. It was now an assortment of browns and fabrics, but it didn’t seem to change the spirit of the blanket.

“Hey,” Bucky said. You looked up to find him looking at you, a frown on his face. “Did I hurt anyone?” He asked.

“No,” you lie. “You were just a little, um, enraged. You had some head trauma.”

He nodded, “Can I get out of these things?” He moved the restraints for emphasis.

You nodded, calling out to the nurse outside the room. He came in, and after assessing Bucky, removed the restraints.

“How’s Steve?” Bucky asked.

“He’s okay,” you answer. “He had tree go through his stomach but he’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded, not bothering to sit up. But he ran his hand through his hair. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes focusing on the blanket.

“Is that my blanket?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, “I thought you might want something to give you some comfort. Do you want it?”

His eyes crinkled from a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You stood, unfolding the blanket and spreading it over him. You looked up at him to see if he was satisfied, but Bucky was staring at your belly.

“Buck?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten...bigger,” he murmured.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking a hand down your belly. “Yeah, and they’ve been kicking up a storm, would you believe it?”

He frowned, “I didn’t realize you were sleeping with anyone.”

Your blood ran cold.

Tags

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

#steve x pregnant!reader #bucky x steve x reader #steve x reader #bucky x pregnant!reader #buck x reader #stucky x pregnant!reader #stucky x reader #stucky

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amelialincoln · 3 years

Text

We're Still Standing

She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep until she was being shaken aggressively out of subconsciousness. Amelia opened her eyes drowsily and realized immediately how cold she was. It took her a minute to adjust to the dim light illuminating from the lantern that hung beside the swing on the porch.

“What the hell are you doing? I was worried sick.” Her boyfriend’s familiar voice rang from above her and she felt his warm, oversized jacket wrap around her shivering frame. Amelia blinked at him, trying to recall why she was on Meredith’s front deck. Oh shit.

“I’m so sorry,” she slurred, shaking her head out of its daze. “I drove to Mer’s out of habit and I must’ve passed out.”

“We’ve been living in the apartment for two weeks.” His tone was firm and he stretched out a hand to pull her off the uncomfortable wooden swing. “Did you--” She knew what he was going to say before he had the chance to finish.

“No, no, I’ve actually barely been thinking about it since I started working again. I think my body is just still adjusting to the long hours.” She accepted his hand and glanced at her dim phone screen. It read 2:50am. No wonder he seemed so shaken up. She bit her lip, trying to hide her guilt.

“Oh, really?” He paused, trying to find the right words, cautious as always. “You seemed like you were struggling with it a bit while we were living at Mer’s.”

“I haven’t taken that much time off work since I was an intern, other than when I was using,” she explained as he opened the car door for her. “My sobriety depends on being able to fill my time with things I’m passionate about. I’m just getting back to feeling like myself again.”

“Okay…” Link replied, shutting the door gently and climbing into the driver’s seat. He pulled out of Mer’s driveway and waited until they were on the freeway. “So this has nothing to do with the conversation we had last night?” She was almost taken aback by how well he knew her. After spending almost every second together, over the last couple of months, she could barely keep anything from him without Link somehow noticing when something was wrong.

“It's just kind of a lot to put on someone,” she muttered.

“What do you mean?” He asked, glancing at his girlfriend who was twisting pieces of her chocolate brown hair nervously.

“It’s just that the expectation of me to be popping out your babies all the time is a bit overwhelming,” she glanced out the window as Link merged into their usual exit. “I just got back to work, Link.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just getting excited. I didn’t mean like now.” He placed a soft hand on her thigh and felt her relax slightly. “We talked about having other kids a lot while we were at Meredith’s. I’m sorry if I jumped into the future too quickly.”

“Meredith’s was a different time. I was really hormonal and barely had time to actually process what was happening.” She forced a grin which made him raise an eyebrow.

“Well, how many of our conversations and decisions were made when you were hormonal?” He turned to look at her and watched her gaze fall. “All that stuff about marriage and houses and massive backyards?” He was dancing around the four kids that she had specifically outlined to him as her preference.

“Link, you and Scout are enough for me. I don’t need anything else.”

“Don’t need or don’t want?” He asked as he pulled into his apartment’s parkade. “Those are two very different things, Amelia.”

“Can we talk about this in the morning? I’m not thinking straight right now,” she answered honestly.

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

[][][]

Amelia was awoken the next morning to Scout being placed on her bare chest. Sun streamed in through the shutters of their third story bedroom and the glittering light from the ocean reflected like shards of glass on the white walls of the room. Link’s apartment was utter perfection, with a perfect view of Elliott bay and situated on a central, but not too busy, street close to downtown. It made her question why he was itching to move out so fast and start building the house he’d been fantasizing about for the last couple of weeks.

“Hi baby,” she smiled as Scout’s blue eyes stared up at her sleepily. He was always the most cuddly in the morning and she shifted to a position where he was able to wrap his pudgy arm around her neck. “Where’s your Dadda?” As if on cue Link strolled into the bright room, his long hair was disheveled and his face wore a hint of exhaustion. Probably from being up all night searching for her, she realized. He held two steaming mugs of coffee and the scent hit her forcefully as he held it under her chin for her to take a small sip.

“He’s been missing you a lot lately.” He lowered himself onto their bed gently and placed both of the mugs on the side table. “Ma ma, ma ma, all day long.” She laughed at his decent impression of Scout’s latest attempts at talking. “You think with all the time he’s spent with Dadda,” he spoke the word loudly at his giggling son, “He’d start liking me at least half as much as you,” Link joked.

“Mama’s boy.” Amelia shrugged, pressing a kiss to the top of her baby boy’s head and suppressing a yawn.

“Bailey texted you not to come in because neuro is slow today but she put you on call. I turned off your alarm. Thought you might need the rest.” He explained, his voice free of judgment. “You also got a call from our health insurance place. Our plans are ending in a week and we’ve still got some credit so I called the pharmacy to renew your birth control prescription. I noticed your pack this month was almost finished.”

“Oh,” she turned to face him, suddenly reminded that she needed to take her pill. “Yeah...thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugged. “I can probably pick it up sometime today.” He handed her the cup of coffee, reading her thoughts before she could even ask for it and watched as she swallowed the tiny pill down.

“Link, it’s--” “Fine,” he shrugged. “I don’t have any expectations of you, Amelia. I know you went through a lot with Owen,” he made a face she didn’t recognize before taking a large gulp out of his own mug and clearing his throat. “I don’t want to make you feel trapped or obligated to fulfill my own selfish desires. It’s your choice and I’m not going anywhere...unless you want me to,” he paused, allowing her space to speak if she wanted to before continuing. “I was an only child and it was tough. It would’ve helped to have a sibling to lean on during my parent’s divorce and I guess that’s my own stuff that I should probably work through instead of pushing you into a situation that you don’t want to be in. I’ve seen you go through hell with your sisters and I understand where you are coming from. Most of all, I’d never want to force you to quit the thing you love doing the most. I also think that would be doing a disservice to the world because my girlfriend is a freaking superhero and she’s got hundreds upon hundreds of people to still save. So can we just pretend that everything I selfishly said to you didn’t happen? Cause I usually don’t like to talk everything out but I was up all night trying to put how I was feeling into words and I still feel like I did a shitty job.” “Now you know how I feel all the time,” she laughed, slipping her hand into his and wishing she could erase the stress that was radiating from him. “Screwing up while trying to get my point across is my specialty.”

“That’s not true, you’re one of the most well spoken people I know.” Link rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his coffee and looking a little bit more relaxed.

“There’s a lot of people who would say otherwise,” Amelia joked, pulling their duvet up to Scout’s shoulders as he began to fall asleep on her chest. “You weren’t being selfish,” she finally sighed. “If anyone’s not being fair it's me. I feel like my mind is switching up on me a hundred times a day. Since I’ve had the tumor I find myself constantly second guessing myself, trying to figure out what I want. Some days all I want is to be a mom. I feel like having Scout has made me become a better person and a better surgeon and I wouldn’t change that for the world. I don’t regret having him for even a second. Every single part of me loves him...and you. To the point where when I am at work, where I am usually at my happiest, I still find myself missing the both of you. Which scares me because there’s never been a doubt in my mind at work that I’m not exactly where I want to be. And I know for a fact that if we were to have another baby, or two or three, that I would find myself not being able to compromise between my love for operating and my love for my family. I know I would have to choose. And I don't think that I can. At least not right now.” Link nodded his head in understanding. “But when I can, you’ll be the first to know,” She laughed, causing him to grin.

“Well, I would hope so.” He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer to him gently, careful not to wake their sleeping son before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, Mia, and I'm not going to force you into anything. So for the love of god, stop running and just tell me how you feel because it's going to take a whole lot more than not wanting another baby right now to scare me off."

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #amelink fanfiction #ameliashepherd #amelinkfanfiction #greysanatomy #atticus link #link

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mandelene · 3 years

Note

Love your writing so much I had a hard time choosing one!

Do you mind doing “✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared” for Amelia in Face family please? Thank you!

Thank you so much, and here it is! 💖

Cookie Dough Ice Cream Word Count: 875

“Amelia, it’s time to wake up now, sweetheart. You’re all done.”

Arthur watches the oral surgeon try to gently shake his daughter awake and isn’t surprised when she doesn’t respond. The girl sleeps like a rock regularly, and given that she has received a nice cocktail of IV sedatives, her body probably isn’t in any rush to rouse.

“I need you to wake up and say something so I can make sure you’re okay,” the surgeon continues, patting her right hand this time.

At last, Amelia’s eyes peel open. She stares straight up at the ceiling of the medical office, and the surgeon steps into her field of view. “Hey, sweetie. Your infected wisdom tooth is out and you did well. How are you feeling?”

A few seconds pass without a response from Amelia. Then, her groggy voice asks, “W-Where am I?”

“At my office. I took your tooth out, remember? We talked about it. You were pretty nervous and a little scared of the procedure, so you got some medicine to sedate you and now it’s wearing off. You’re probably feeling a little loopy. Look to the right—your dad’s next to you,” the surgeon patiently explains.

Amelia rotates her head to look over at Arthur and mumbles, “I c-can’t feel my mouth.”

The surgeon nods. “That’s the local anesthetic. You’ve got some gauze in your mouth to help stop the bleeding, but I don’t want you to touch it, okay? You can change it when you get home…Does anything hurt? Any pain?”

Amelia shakes her head and giggles softly. “No. I feel goooood,” she replies in a sing-song tone.

The surgeon laughs quietly and pats her shoulder. “Good. Your dad’s gonna take you home okay? You’re gonna take some antibiotics and pain meds for a week. And in ten days, you’re gonna come back so I can have another look at you and make sure everything’s healing. Sound good?”

“…You’re gonna take my other teeth?”

“No, no. You can keep the rest of your teeth—I don’t want them,” the surgeon assures, shooting her a sympathetic smile. “I’m not gonna put you through this again, honey.”

Arthur decides it’s probably okay to interject now without risking overwhelming Amelia since she’s had some time to process the situation. “Can you sit up, love? The car is just outside, but maybe you need a few more minutes?”

“I’m…I’m sleepy,” Amelia mumbles, releasing a heavy breath.

“I know, poppet. You can sleep in the car.”

The oral surgeon takes that as his cue to leave and says, “Take all of the time you guys need. If there are any issues, feel free to give me a call. And feel better soon, Amelia, okay?”

“Thank you very much for your help,” Arthur tells the surgeon before turning to Amelia again and hoisting her up a little under her arms to encourage her to move. “Come along, Amelia. I’m sure you’d prefer to nap at home in your bed. I’ll help you stand.”

“Ughhh,” Amelia complains, reluctantly sitting up.

Arthur wraps a hand around each of her upper arms to catch her in case she falls, but he’s fairly positive she’s going to be able to keep her balance. She can use her legs—she just doesn’t want to.

Sure enough, once she’s up, she’s fine, and he’s able to escort her to the car and into the passenger’s seat without any trouble. He buckles her seatbelt and gives her a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

“You’re not going to be too happy in a few hours, I imagine,” he says to her with a worried frown. “I don’t want you to get motion sick, so we’ll wait here for another several minutes.”

“…I want ice cream.”

“You can have ice cream later, okay? Once the bleeding has stopped and you’re more alert.”

Amelia laughs to herself and lets her head loll to the left. “Ice cream. Cookie dough ice cream.”

“Okay. When you feel better.”

“I already said I feel gooood. I’m fiiiiine.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do. Midazolam will do that to a person.”

“Mida…Midalam…Mizolam.”

“Midazolam. Don’t worry about it.”

He gets into the driver’s seat and sits with her in the parking lot for a little while. At one point, she starts poking at her cheek, and he has to pull her hand away from her face. He doesn’t want her dislodging the gauze.

After another ten minutes, she becomes more docile, and she murmurs, “My head hurts.”

“That can happen sometimes as the sedatives wear off. I’m going to start driving now. Are you okay?” he asks, looking into her eyes to see how glassy they are...They’re much better than they were earlier.

“…Okay.”

“All right. Let’s get going, then.”

“…Ice cream?”

“You’ll get your ice cream, love. You can have all of the ice cream you want until you recover.”

“…Yay.”

Arthur laughs this time. Poor dear. He hopes she won’t remember most of this later. He doesn’t want her to feel embarrassed. And if she does ask him about it, he’ll gladly lie and say she was as quiet as a mouse.

And then he’s going to go to the store and buy her the largest tub of cookie dough ice cream he can find.

#hetalia #aph nyo!america #hws nyo!america #aph england #hws america #hws england #hws face family #aph face family #drabbles #hurt comfort #confused amelia #amelia dental surgery

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rosyk · 3 years

Text

Clichè

pairing: lee minho x reader

genre: heavy or light angst, fluff, marriage, misunderstandings

warnings: light curses, situations that involves deep anger or sadness, mentions of disease, death(?)

word count: 5.2k

a/n: Hi it’s your gal, rosyk. I’m back with writing fanfictions and it’s like 4 in the morning. I haven’t slept yet so there are many grammatically incorrect sentences or spelling errors. Hope you enjoy this one though! (Inspired by Dear John- Taylor Swift)

I sat by the car, the same old one he and I used to drive in. This was a simple car but we swore to use this for our wedding since memories are still stuck. It made me wonder what could’ve happened if everything went right? What would’ve happened to us if there were no obstacles in life? It then made me realize that indeed there were no obstacles, none other than you.

I drove the car to meet your sister who desperately needed to talk to me. She said there were secrets I needed to know but I get the gist of what she’s trying to do. Set me up? Trap me? Convince me? So I could be tempted to get back into your cage? I don’t want that to happen, never again. I’m sick and tired of this one-sided relationship I never noticed because I was blinded. Aced all my tests, I am smart. But when it comes to you, I look like a whole fool trying to fall in love with a guy who gave up. This is why I wanted to show her that I’ve moved on, at least based on my view. Wearing both of my earphones and played our song, I sighed deeply and continued to drive along Cornelia street. My days only revolved around you but what exactly went wrong in between us? Scratch that, what happened to you?

Back then, all I could do was love you. Not less but everything more. I could never stand loving you lesser each day. It’s not on obsessing but to the point that I recognize your feelings though still, I try to force myself. You know how I do grow tired from time to time, but that’s all because I care for you. There’s not much positivity from that though. The downfall happens when I love you much more than you feel for me. It was never equal no matter how I try to persuade myself, desperately needing your affection.

My mother used to tell me how crazy I was to fall for a guy like you. How was I supposed to tell her you were fine since then? Yesterday, you rained me with care. On Friday, you sucked it all up and acted as if nothing happened. All I could do was pray that the guy I used to know, is the one I’ll meet today and greet me in front of the door with wide gentle hugs.

You give me hope, then take it back all at once. I remembered a sunny sky in blue that suddenly turned grey after you decided to shrug me off several times. I was in your tiny piece of chess game. Though you change the rules every day, hoping I would give up until the end. What’s funny is that typically families opposing would be the ones who would give tests to both of the couples to prove their love. And yet, you were the one who was trying to give me a hard time and when I was lost in the thought of giving you up, you decided to save me at the end of the day.

You were a puzzle I couldn’t solve. Little did I know, there was a missing piece I could never find until then. Just like a whole puzzle, you were complicated but due to my drive and need, I had to hang on to my aim. I had to do it because I was convinced by all your “sorry“. Or maybe it’s just me trying to change my mindset to find a reason to stay because I knew there was no difference between all your other sorrys before.

“Which Minho would I be able to talk to on the phone?” It runs through my mind each Sunday of my life and gives me anxiety. But every time I hear the phone ring? I never hesitated to pick it up. No matter what kind of guy I am faced with, I wanted to know deeper why you were acting so confusing. But on that single day, I didn’t pick up the phone. I cried and had sleepless nights. My worst nightmare just came and here’s why:

“Don’t you think this is a good improvement? We’ll sit by the couch and place a big screen tv.” You placed your arm above my shoulder and I continued your lovely story.

“Then we’ll watch your performances?” I looked at you in the eye, grinning as you smirked at my idea. You hummed in question and tilted your head. “Lee Minho, the most famous kpop idol who reached internationally and was supported by his lovely fans” I placed both of my hands above, imaging a billboard banner with your name and face on it. Thousands of people watching and idolizing you.

“Really?” You shifted your position into a more comfortable one as I leaned on your chest. Nodding at my suggestion, you pressed your lips together and listened to me, getting all happy after trying to predict and set goals in our lives.

“Of course! Why not?” I turned my head to face you and gave you a slight hit. “I could feel the energy of the universe as if it's trying to tell me that was our fate” You playfully laughed at the girl in front of you who is telling such an exaggerating fairytale. “Besides, ” I went back to my position and grabbed your arms around my waist. “Your number one fan is just a surgeon anyway” You responded with an oh? as you began to get amused with my statements. “A surgeon who never failed to help people even in a situation full of pressure. The best surgeon in the district” I smiled in a bragging manner, lifting my hand to flip my hair.

“I like that” you nodded in approval. “But don’t you think it’s much better with the title, the best surgeon found around the world?” My eyes lit up with stars because indeed that was a better match. I grinned and raised my eyebrow.

“That’s better” an idea popped up and so I turned back once again. You looked at me in confusion and waited until I would continue what I wanted to say. “But how about the dating ban? Does that mean we have to keep it low?” You looked at me concerningly and so I did. Panic arose in my mind. “Or maybe we-“

You placed your hand up my lip and shushed me. Everything is going to be fine, you tried to assure me. Lifting up your hand and caressed my face, you continued and stared at my pouty lips. “Of course not. It’s you,” with a silent pause, you pointed directly at me with a lovingly stare “and I” you did the same back at yourself and held my hand, enclosing it together. “against the whole world”. You chuckled whilst you tipped your forehead on mines.

“Too cliché” I laughed at you but no doubt that made my heart flutter. Oh, how I wish he knew how much I love him.

[MONTHS LATER]

“Do you have everything packed?” I sighed deeply the minute I rummaged through the closet. I stopped as soon as I saw the yellow hoodie hung inside. “You forgot the hoodie!” I chuckled though scared, deeply hoping this isn’t what I think it is.

“That’s your favorite. Keep it” he smiled but those words pierced straight through me. I felt what he meant. My last token for our relationship, isn’t it? What happened to all those you and I against the world? Were all those just things to make me feel relieved?

“Oh” I responded dryly and gulped, pressing my lips together to stop these drops from falling. “Mhm, ’kay” I closed the closet and faced the guy who’ll soon be leaving. “Go” You looked at me with pity and everything I didn’t want to see in your eyes. I’m okay, at least that’s what I like to believe. As I was busy trying to act tough because I don’t want you to see me being vulnerable once again, you gave me the warmth I needed. A necessity in my dark days.

“I’m sorry. I won’t leave you alone, maybe quite busy but I’d never wanted to split up with you” I finally cried after everything. It was a big wash down of emotions and you felt sorry again. It was a painful sight for you, I know.

“But those hoodies..” sniffs went in between those sobs. As usual, you tried to assure me by caressing my face. It was an act to show that we’ll still stay the same.

“I want you to return this to me after I become an idol. I want you to promise you’ll hold on to us. Wait for me okay?” That was the first and last time I’ve ever seen you cry. It hurts deep bad, but I didn’t want to be an obstacle to your goal as well. I’ll wait no matter how many years it may take.

[DECEMBER OF 2018]

Hey, I’m not sure if you still received my letters. It’s been long, don’t you think? I feel like you don’t remember me anymore but I was your first love haha. Would you still be able to know me after I come back there? I’ve heard you all over the news. Minho, the guy who brought K-pop internationally and broke the Billboard charts. I told you that you’d make it. Me? I’m now a surgeon. Not internationally, but definitely in the district. I’ll get there soon, right? One more question, can I return the hoodie? I did wait for you, hoping you did as well.

I sighed for only God knows how many times for this day. The more I’ve been sending letters, the less I’ve been receiving.

I held on to the letter and got up from my bed after hearing a call once again. The last time I was able to sleep was decades ago and so I had to go back to work. Luckily, it wasn’t a heavy operation but I just had to check-in by the hospital to get the patient’s results.

“Good afternoon, Mrs!.” My patient joked and I could clearly see my best friend smirking.

“Maddie! Stay safe when you get home alright?” I smiled greeting the patient who joked before getting ready to leave

“Hey, hey it’s not too safe to go outside yet. Call someone to assist you. Take care!” Another response of mine was said after a boy who was operated on and took rest for three weeks passed by me.

Beaming from ear to ear, I squealed and hugged my best friend tight. “ALICEEE!” It’s been years since I’ve seen her. She accompanied Min on his way to Korea. And before any of the readers misunderstand, they are siblings. Quite awkward at first if I must say but it’s great to know lots of information about him.

“Hush, we’re in your workplace. You told me that, right? Alice, don’t scream or get hyper whenever you’d come back here.” She mimicked the way I talked in an insulting manner, not that I’m offended by it. We just like to mimic one’s tone as a sign of sarcasm. “Well, look who’s talking?” She furrowed both of her eyebrows as I laughed and took my hands off her.

“So how was Korea, Lisa? Did you find someone? Maybe that guy who you friend-zoned at?” I started chuckling after seeing her blank face. It was honestly funnier to see her reaction. Her stop-it-kind-of-face made my laugh gradually get lower but never failed to make a remark soon after. I thought of someone and so I tried to casually ask her about it. “How are you and Min? Was Korea that good? Just wanted to ask because I’m scared to get into their hospital” I shrugged it off but saw her eyebrow raise. Of course, she always knows what’s up.

“So is this why you’re called Mrs.? Mrs. Lee?” Now it was her turn to laugh. I playfully pouted and narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?” I acted all offended, placing my hand to my chest as if I took it to heart “It’s miss for you, Mrs. friend-zoned” Rolling my eyes and entered my room, her never-ending saga of teasing me continued.

An hour came by after packing all my things left in the hospital room and we talked about our lives. She still never told me a single thing about Min because of her chattiness. We got in the car and went to the airport. My flight has been called and so I had to leave.

“Wish we could’ve spent more time. I’ll come back soon anyways after visiting the hospital” she hugged me so tight causing me to be so confused.

“Min.. I tried to talk to him” I looked at her in the eye asking for some problems that happened years before. Though no words that came out of her were expected.

“But he didn’t want to hear anything about you”

Hours came by like a flash but my thoughts filling out my mind went by for years. I arrived at my destination but is this truly where I am destined to be in? I knew there was something much more than her words because her voice was shaky.

I didn’t leave a single minute to go by my hospital though. Work always comes by my mind. But usually, I would hang by the café in your building hoping to see you pass by. There were no people because I was busy studying late at night after the closing time. It was scary, but I was too busy to notice.

“I miss you! I’ll come by soon, okay? You better wait for me, sweetie. Love you, take care!” I smiled after hearing my patient’s voice. She was a lovely kid and it seems like I wasn’t the only one missing her as well. It had just been a day yet Yeina has been panicking through the whole call.

“Got a boyfriend now?” The one who talked suddenly came up near my seat and giggled. It was cute but I was busy closing all my documents. Besides, it was not that important. I responded unknowingly but was cut after hearing the voice.

“No, it was my patient. She’s a cute kid” I looked up and God-, was that the biggest thing I regretted but enjoyed at the same time. The guy I waited for years was the same guy who didn’t want to hear anything that involves me. The guy who didn’t want to talk, approached me first with the same smile as if nothing happened. I don’t know what to feel nor what to say. It took whole 5 minutes of me trying to smile awkwardly.

“So, no hugs, internationally known surgeon who cured people around the world for the guy who is loved by his lovely fans?” You looked at me shocked but smiled as soon as I got back to my senses. Everything still remained vivid in your head when I thought it wouldn’t be.

I went up to you and cried in your embrace. The same warmth, it never changed even after all those years. “I thought you had forgotten” I tried to explain though it came out as short phrases because of my sobs. You held my head to nuzzle near your neck and caressed my hair, patting in between.

“Thank you for waiting even in tough times. You did good, doctor”

[WEEKS LATER]

Yes, it just had been weeks. Everything was good but turned downhill soon after. I don’t know what’s hitting on you because you just turned.. off.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?” I yelled after you constantly trying to ignore me. “Wow, so now you’re deaf?” I exclaimed as I held on to your arm and making you turn around and face me.

“You wouldn’t understand anyway!” Loud shoutings were just everything that was heard in the room. I am patient but was frustrated that moment you took on that dumb decision.

“So now I was wrong here? YOU QUITTED THAT FKING JOB OF YOURS BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T FEEL LIKE IT? YOU FELT BORED? The world doesn’t adjust for you! It’s not like you are the reason why the Earth revolves! It’s not easy to find a new goal and get it as soon as possible!” I expressed all my thoughts because things weren’t matching up. Who the hell leaves something just because he or she was bored? I felt like there was something more to it but why do you seem so nonchalant about it? It was that easy of a decision to make?

“SHIT!” You grabbed the vase and smashed it on the floor. That shocked me. I was clearly shaking yet I tried to stand by my point.

“Why did you come back here anyway?” I felt the world stopped. No, because he was actually true. Why did I come back here? Expecting that the love of my life would be the same even when it had been years he didn’t bother to call? Even after all these years, the guy I waited for would remain the same? After all the dating issues, he would stay irrelevant and think of me every day? I was just a surgeon not even known worldwide. Who am I to him?

“You’re right. I’m nothing to you anyway.” I packed up quickly placing all of my clothes unorganized. It was easy to get into someone but how is leaving not the same?

You tried calling me out but I left due to my blind optimism over the week. I came back to Korea but you soon got me with all those sorry. That was just a single moment that left a scar on me deeply. But now that I think of it, I was used to it because you were an on and off switch

The first day of a week you asked me out on a date then suddenly you claimed to have forgotten about it. You’d tell me how much you loved me, yet add me to the list of traitors who wouldn’t understand a single thing. It was basically just a love or leave me game of yours. It went on for months that I was tired of it. Sick of everything else but you suddenly turned nice again. I waited for the moment you would hate me as usual but it never came by. Was it because you finally realized how much you had hurt me or were you trying to be nice because you were planning a sudden break-up. Maybe a Dear Jane letter? I was scared because I feel like it was more of the latter.

But after all the overthinking, another unexpected thing came by. You spoke the words:

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through after everything I’ve done. It hurts so bad and I don’t want to see you taking all that pain anymore. I never had forgotten about you not even a single bit of my life. I made decisions that could lessen your pride and was also close-minded with all your opinions. But my love for you stays true which is why I wanted to stop seeing you cry. The only tears I’ll ever allow you to shed is the one I needed all my life. The words I wanted to wait for you on. This might be the most clichè thing you’ll ever see, but will you marry me?”

I could never get over that preparation of yours. Because who’d knew you were actually into those surprises? I looked at the ring and smiled at it. How precious this is to me. But time surely passes by fast.

Looking at myself in a white gown, we passed by on lots of obstacles but it felt like yesterday even though it took even years to convince my mother and bless the marriage. She allowed but was forced to.

I still remembered how my mom used to hit me several times every day just to understand if there was something wrong with my head, but apologized soon after because she believed my father was watching from heaven. Mom had many beliefs and one of them was to ask my father whether to accept me. She used to tell me with not a missing day left aside, “run as fast as you can”. Up until now, I find it too hilarious.

“Aren’t you rushing too much? You’re still nineteen” the one who placed my natural makeup on, whispered in my ear.

That was what I was scared of. I was anxious about getting hurt at 19 what more if I was getting married then it went downhill when I was 19? But you were a risk I was willing to take every day, so why not? I know you’ll stay true to your words, I just know so.

“No” I responded short and smiled at myself for acting so brave with my thoughts. I went out of the hall and looked up to my mother who was dressed up so nicely. Sure, the girl who took time dressing me up, definitely did not say she wouldn’t attend if I marry Minho. I sarcastically remarked at her logic.

“So where’s that guy? It’s been 15 minutes since the guests have arrived!” She placed her hand on her hip and tapped her feet on the floor impatiently.

“Ma, he will arrive” I assured my mother and hugged her after I saw a glimpse of tears on her face. Of course, she raised me, and to finally see me with a guy who will take care of me then, she would be brought into tears. She told me once, before the wedding starts, all her thoughts including how she was sad about me leaving but happy about me finding and receiving the love I am willing to fight for. She doesn’t show it as much but she knows how much of a good guy Min is.

“You’ll be Mrs. Lee minutes later!” I found Lisa near the entrance and hugged her. “I told you we would have the same last name years ago!” she continued

Minutes came by and indeed you look handsome in a tux. Everything was worth the wait. You were worth waiting for. We’ve said our vows that express our love would remain until forever runs out, and it was truly you and I together against the world.

[PRESENT]

At least that is what was supposed to happen.

Your dumb-ass mind left me hanging and crying on the white dress. Everything was prepared and you suddenly decided not to show up? You were claiming you had forgotten? What kind of excuse is that? You were no doubt an expert on saying sorry. Just because, you were an exception when it comes to me not being forgiving. Just because, you’d know how to get me back. With a single smile, sorry, that’s it! My mind would start to revolve once around you, playing hide and seek or chase. I was always the one chasing and I’m tired of having to run a hundred miles just to get that love I wanted, which you never wanted to give anyway. It’s all you and your sick need of giving love and taking it away.

Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with? The girl in a white dress who was supposedly having fun on her grand day, went away and started crying? I should’ve followed what my mom said. You should’ve known and I should’ve seen. I was played, you were the one who controlled the game.

“Where will you take me, Alice?” Truly, it’s hard to have feelings for a guy who is the brother of your best friend. If things go wrong, then clearly your friendship is over.

“To him” you responded shortly, tightening your grip on my wrist.

“Stop. I don’t want to go.” I forced her hand off me and whined in a frustrated manner because clearly, you screwed up Alice.

“Could you please stop?! I’m sick of this! He doesn’t have to hide it forever!” You looked away and continued dragging me as soon as I stopped. Hiding what now?

I don’t know what to say when I meet you. Scratch that, I didn’t even want to meet you anymore. Because what if this habit of mine comes up and actually accepts you? I’m tired of it but there’s just something that makes me want to hold onto the love or something that isn’t in you anymore.

You took me in a place so questionable as you stopped and cried. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and yet you say it was the right place. That can’t be, right? How did this happen? Shaky hands, dry throat, words don’t come out my lips. “I’m sorry” I didn’t know why that was the only thing that escaped from my tongue. I did not accept it yet because I belived that wasn’t reality.

Lisa took me to a hospital in which I saw you laying down, unconscious.

I could do nothing but curl down. I was hurt but I never did ask for this. “Alicia, since when?”

“The doctor told me he had cancer way before you went back to Korea. This is why he didn’t want me to talk about you because he gets hurt and couldn’t even imagine what you would do in lengths just to cure him. He used to joke about how you loved him the same way he did. Side effects? Memory loss, sudden mood swings. You know, he was the same guy you knew in the past. Except, he had gotten braver of leaving you behind just so you wouldn’t get into more pain as to seeing his condition. He was very open but he thought of decisions way better when it comes to you than of himself. He loved you every single day of his life and I do know how he misses your touch, crying himself to sleep. He faced a much harder life, missy. As to the wedding, he said he had forgotten about it but it was more due to the reason of having a husband that wasn’t able to take care of until the end of the world, when he promised you to. It was because of a guy not being able to see you getting known worldwide nor exposing you in all medias, when he wanted you to. It was because of a man who simply wanted you to be happy, because he needed that too.”

This is the point where my world started to crash. It wasn’t you who should’ve known. It was me. I should’ve been there at times you need someone to rely on. I based on my selfishness and need for love, not knowing that what I need was the thing that kept me from hurting. I’m sorry for misunderstanding. I’m sorry for making things harder for you. I’m sorry for not opening up all my thoughts about you. I’m sorry because I left you fighting against the world, and I stood by just watching. I felt as if I was the person who was miserable and yet it was you who was trying to act tough.

Lisa continued to tell all those hidden words of yours “I even remembered the time he continued blaming himself for hurting you but concluded that it was everything that he could do. His situation isn’t something that can be fixed and he knows about that even if he wasn’t told about the months he have left. He told me that once you come back and see how bad of a person he is for leaving you all alone and asking you to wait, I am allowed to tell you everything once you’ve moved on.” The girl I’m talking with continued crying filling out the silence I make.

It was a shock and seeing you were the only thing that made me cry deeply. I couldn’t breathe as my chest weighed heavily. I grasped my shirt as I was desperately needing to calm down. But none of this sight made me calm down. I understood the situation I did, but it was too far, in reality, to keep it in check. You were unconscious and Lisa wanted to let me see you before your last breath. Standing up, I cried up to you.

“Idiot” I sniffed, Trying to act strong and let it all out but that’s everything I could only say. “You said our story was cliché. What happened to the true love’s kiss that wakes one up?” I kneeled down and held your hand with the ring that was encircling your fingers. I felt the cold air as tears continued flowing. I kissed your hand and gulped, crying helplessly. Is there really nothing I could do?

“The last time he saw you were way back you were able to smile again. He said it was a blissful sight to see and he would be happy even if that were to be the last time.” Lisa explained and cried her heart out as well after seeing such a painful sight.

“You do know you can see me every day right? Wouldn’t that be nice?” I tried to persuade an unconscious body who can’t hear my words. ��Hey, wake up” I clasped our hands together and entwined both. “I’m here, so wake up. I’ll be with you until the end okay?” The volume of my talks gradually decreases but I still believe you can open your eyes up. I know so. I know that at this very time you could still see me and hug me, letting me feel the same warmth I needed once again. “I’ll be with you and it’s still going to be you and I against the world. Cliché right? I know you’ll never miss a chance to tease me when I take that cheesy statement. So please do. Please wake up and talk to me once again. I am here for you.. always and forevermore”

I closed my eyes and heard the beeping of the machine. I looked at you and the monitor that showed a single, straight line. I sighed deeply and my heartbeat is everything I could hear. Repeating your name, demanding you to wake up but all I could do at the end of the day is being so helpless. Even my optimism couldn’t change my mindset yet I was hopelessly begging to see your loving eyes as Lisa and the other staff held me out of the ward for the doctors to take care and clean up everything.

I wished to see those eyes I never noticed years ago. I didn’t know whether it was my selfish act or optimism that kept me not noticing all those details but if only I could see those once again, I could’ve lessened your pain before you disappeared. I was wrong but even up to this end, I hope you know that I love you and forever will do, Min.

I see it all now that you’re gone, don’t you think I was too young to be messed with? The girl in the dress cried the whole way home

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years

Text

Rafe Cameron x reader (pt 3)

Summary: You, a pogue and Rafe Cameron, a kook are friends of benefits, secretly of course. But what happens when you get pregnant?

Part 1 // Part 2

A/N: Here is part 3!! Please please please read the author’s note at the end! Thank you so much for the continued support of this. You all are AMAZING. I love y’all. xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

There was screaming and cries all around you. What happened? Oh right, someone shot a gun. There was a pang in your side, huh, that kind of hurts. When you looked down you could see your white shirt turning red, that looks like blood. Is it mine? Looking at the eyes in front of you, you could see a panicked Rafe. He didn’t look high anymore, they looked normal, like the ones you fell in love with. Turning your head, you could see John B rushing to you out of the water. Then you let your eyes fluttered closed.

John B and everyone around watched in horror. He was quick, catching you before you fell against the sand. “Y/n!” Slowly he went to his knees, with you in his arms, your back against his chest.

“What the hell, Rafe?!” John B yelled, looking up at Rafe.

As soon as that gunshot rang out, Rafe’s high was over and he was back to reality. “I-I didn’t mean too!” His hands go up to his head, gripping at his hair, “Is she alive?”

JJ pushed Rafe out of the way and dropped to your side, holding his hands against your stomach, “Someone call 911!”

Kie screamed. JJ was yelling about being stupid for bringing the gun in the first place. Pope was yelling about keeping pressure on the wound. John B was yelling at y/n to stay with him. Hands were shaking him, “Rafe! We gotta go man, the police are on their way.” Topper. He was in a haze, watching the scene in front of him. He doesn’t remember doing it, but his feet carried himself through the sand and to his truck.

“Oh god, JJ there’s a lot of blood.” John B cried, rocking back and forth.

“I know dude, I’m trying!” He looked around, “I need more towels!”

John B looked around, “Where the hell is the paramedics?!” His hands were gently rubbing your cheek, “Please, please stay with me.”

Kie and Pope quickly returned with the towels gathered from the beach.

Pope dropped to y/n’s side next to JJ and put more towels, but the blood just kept seeping through. “Kie, run up to the road and flag them down.” Pope instructed. Kie nodded before running off.

John B cradled you in his arms, “I can’t lose her…I can’t.”

That’s when JJ and Pope knew, you were the mystery girl he was in love with.

“Please, let me ride with her!” John B begged the paramedic, who shook her head, “I’m sorry son, you can’t. Is there anything else we should know about her?”

John B nods, “S-she’s pregnant. 2 months…” The paramedic nodded before hopping into the back with you.

JJ grabbed John B’s shoulder, “Come on man, I’ll drive you. We’ll follow behind.”

“She’s coding!” Is the last thing he heard as the doors shut and the paramedics drove off.

John B’s knee bounced up and down as he sat in the hospital chair. His head was in his hands. It had been 4 hours since they arrived and there was no word. He’d called your mom, but she was out of town with your dad and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.

“She’s going to be fine, John B.” Kie comforted, “She’s strong.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” John B looked up when he heard JJ yelling. Walking through the waiting room doors was Rafe and Topper.

“Please, I just wanted to make sure she was okay.” Rafe begs, “I don’t want to start anything.”

“You’re the reason she’s fighting for her life, asshole!” Pope yelled.

Kie stands and goes to the boys as people begin looking around, “We’re all going to get kicked out if you idiots don’t shut the hell up!” She whisper yells, “JJ, Pope, go sit back down.” JJ and Pope didn’t move, “I said go.” She gave them a little shove and they finally obliged and sat back down.

“Please, Kie, is she okay?”

“We don’t know. We haven’t heard anything.” She points to chairs on the opposite side of the boys, “Sit down.”

Topper and Rafe follow Kie’s orders and sit down.

“If she dies, it’s on you Cameron.” John B snaps, looking up at Rafe before standing and storming off.

After two more long hours, a surgeon walked out into the waiting room, clip board in hand. “Is the family of y/n y/l/n here?”

All the pogues, Topper and Rafe stood from their seats.

“You all are family?” The surgeon asked.

John B nodded, “We’re her family.”

“Our mother loves to adopt kids.” JJ comments when he sees the surgeon looking at all of them. The surgeon continues to look at them weird before shaking his head, “Alright.”

“How is she? Is she and the baby okay?” John B asks.

The surgeon motions back to the chairs and sits down. They follow and all sit back down, John B at the edge of his seat.

“It was touch and go for a while, but she is one lucky girl. She lost a good bit of blood and she coded in the ambulance. However, we finally managed to get a pulse when she arrived. Then, we took her straight into surgery. The bullet was a through and through, hitting her spleen. We did have to remove the spleen, there was no way around that. However, she’s going to have to be very careful the rest of her life because now she’s going to be prone to infections. But other than that, she should make a full recovery.” The surgeon explains.

“is..what about the baby?” Kie asks, “Was the baby okay?”

The surgeon nods, “fetus is fine.”

“Can we see her?” JJ asks.

The surgeon nods, “Only 2 at a time though. I’ll have a nurse show you to her.” The surgeon stands.

“Thank you, doctor.” Rafe holds his hand out to the surgeon who nods, returning the hand shake and walking off.

The pogues and two kooks share glances, Pope asks, “So, who’s the first two?”

Rafe knows he won’t be one of the first two, so he doesn’t even try it, “John B, you and Kiara go back first.”

Rafe waits patiently in the waiting room with Topper and the other pogues. You were going to be okay.. and so was his baby. His mind’s running a million miles a minute. It had been confirmed, you were pregnant with his baby. He’d overheard some girls at the Boneyard talking about it and that’s when he stormed off to you. Was that what you wanted to talk about when you stopped by his house that day? He’d been such an ass to you. The drugs had taken control of him and he just let it, which caused him to lose the best thing that happened to him. He wondered how you’d ever forgive him after this.

John B was the first one you saw when you woke up. His hand was holding yours and he was smiling through his tears, “Hi..”

You smiled weakly, “Hey.”

He gently pushed hair off your forehead, “I thought I had lost you.”

“What even happened?” wincing you laid your head back on the pillow, “This shit hurts.” John B looks at Kie who nods, “I’ll go get the nurse,” she stands from her chair and exits the room.

“Well, you got shot.” He chuckled softly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand, “You saved my life and managed to get shot while you and Rafe fought over the gun..”

“Oh.”

He nods, “Yeah.”

“The baby?”

“Perfectly fine.” He smiles and places a kiss on your hand, “They had to remove your spleen, but the doctor said you’ll make a full recovery.”

You weakly bring your hand up to his cheek, wiping a tear, “Don’t cry. You’re going to make me cry”

“I’m sorry, I thought I was going to lose you.” He uses his hand to wipe the other cheek, “I couldn’t lose you.”

It was JJ and Pope who came in to see you next. They stayed for a little while before you had to kick them out because JJ kept making you laugh, and it hurt. The next person that walked through your door was Rafe, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

“Can I come in?” He asked from the door.

You nodded and sat up a little, “Yeah.”

He comes in and sets the flowers on the bedside table, then stands at the end of your bed. He looks like a mess. His hair was messy; his face red and splotchy. His hands were shaking as he gripped the edge of the bed. He hadn’t had his drug fix since before you were shot and he could feel himself drifting into withdrawals.

“Y/n I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” He whispers, “All those things I said that night, I didn’t mean them. It was the drugs. I was stupid enough to try them.”

“Why did you do it, Rafe? The drugs? You always told me that you hated them..”

He nods, “I know and I did but I got in a fight with my dad. About you. Someone saw us on the mainland together and he snapped on me. Then I went to a party with Topper and it was just there. And I thought one time wouldn’t hurt. But then I got hooked.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know, I was stupid. After my dad said all those things, I thought it would be best to push you away. I didn’t deserve you and you didn’t deserve to be with a joke like myself. Then yesterday I overheard someone say you were pregnant and I snapped. I was high when I came to talk with you at the Boneyard.”

“Yeah I know. You had the same look in your eyes that night at your house.” You looked down at your hands, “Rafe, you scared me that night. I mean you were a completely different person. You weren’t the man I fell in love with.”

He rounds the bed to come to your side, taking a seat in the chair, “I know.. but I’m going to stop. For you and for the baby.” He takes your hand in his, “Then we can be together and be a family.”

You slowly pull your hand from his and set it back on your lap, “Rafe, I don’t know if we can be a family.” You whisper, “I’m a pogue and you’re a kook. Always will be. Your family will never accept me or this baby.”

“Screw my family. I love you and that’s all that matters. I don’t need my family’s acceptance.” His eyes are filling with tears, which match with yours.

“Rafe, I don’t know if I love you anymore. After everything that has happened, you showed your true colors.”

“But it was the drugs, y/n. I’m going to stop, I’m going to get help for you and for the baby. That wasn’t me.” His bottom lip trembles, “Please, I need you.”

It seemed like you had a big decision to make. How would you choose between the two?

John B had been your best friends for years. He’d been there for you when a stupid boy broke your heart. He’d taken care of you anytime you had one too many one night at a party, He opened his home to you whenever you needed a place to stay. He was available any time of the day, ready to talk if you needed it. If you called him crying about a bad date with a guy, he’d “I’ll be right there.” And then he’d show up at your house, your favorite candy in his hand and would hold you for hours or listen to you talk. He talked about you all the time to Pope and JJ, but he never let on who it was. They never knew who he was in love with until that night you were shot that you were his mystery girl. You were his everything and he was your person.

But Rafe Cameron. He had been just another guy you fell into bed with. He was the asshole everyone warned you about. However, that’s not what you saw in him, you saw someone different. He would open doors for you. He held your hand whenever he could and would give you a kiss whenever the moment allowed. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you. He carried you on these dates every Saturday, never missing a beat. He treated you like a princess. He made you laugh, more than anyone ever had. He was a softy around you, not the hard ass everyone else saw. He made you feel beautiful. He didn’t make you feel you were different than him. He called you every night before he went to bed to tell you about his day and he’d listen to your rants to the late hour of the night. You didn’t know this, but even around his kook friends, he defended your honor. He never let them talk bad about you. Rafe Cameron was your first real love.

How could you choose between your first real love or your best friend?

It had been 2 weeks since you had been shot. You had decided it would be best to recover at your own home instead of at John B’s. You needed time to think about your decision and being at your home could give you that. Both boys came by your house every day to check on you.

John B showed up one morning a basket in his hands. It was filled with your favorite candy, salty snacks, bubble bath and your favorite scented candles.

“What is all this?” You ask, smiling. You sit up in your bed and pause the show you’d been watching.

He gives a small shrug and walks over, “A little care basket from me and the pogues.” He gently sets it in front of you, “Kie helped me pick out the bubble bath and candles.”

“John B you didn’t have to do all this.”

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed in front of you, “Well, you did kind of take a bullet for me. I’m pretty sure a basket wouldn’t make up for that, but it’s a start.” He chuckles.

“Well, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He nods, “anything for you.”

A quiet silence fell upon the two of you and he cleared his throat, standing, “Well, I guess I’ll go and let you rest.”

You grab his hand as he stands, “No, stay? Please?”

“You sure?”

You nod and pull the covers back beside you. He then slips off his shoes before climbing in bed next to you. As he gets comfortable you slip under his arm and lay your head on his chest, getting comfortable yourself. This wasn’t anything new for the two of you, however, after the spoken feelings, there was a difference.

Your recent cravings ended up being cheez its and pickles and you were currently munching on some, Rafe sitting next to you in the bed. The two of you had just put in a movie.

Rafe scrunched his nose up as he watched you eat the cheez its and pickles, alternating between the two with each bite.

“What?” You ask, popping a cheez it in your mouth.

“I just don’t see how that tastes good.” He chuckles.

“It’s like the best thing every.”

He shakes his head at you, “You’re adorable..”

You blush, “You won’t think I’m adorable when my hormones decide to change gears on you and I’m pissed because you put your shoe in the wrong place in the closet.”

He gives a small shrug, “I’m prepared for it.”

“We’ll see about that, Mr. Cameron.” The two of you went back to watching the movie, but not a few minutes later, Rafe spoke up.

“I talked with my family last night and told them about you and the baby.”

You quickly paused the movie, “Okay… how did that go?”

“Well, they were pissed at me at first, but after they calmed down, my dad and Rose agreed you could move to Tanneyhill, live in the apartment over the garage.” He smiles, taking your hand in his, “We can move into the apartment… and be a family.”

“Rafe, that all sounds amazing..”

“I can sense a but in that.” He frowns.

“But I don’t know about us yet.”

“I’ve come over every day to check on you… I’ve brought you flowers and whatever you were craving.” He looks at you in disbelief, “I’ve sat here for hours and watched movies with you. And I’ve been clean since the night you got shot.”

“I know and you’ve been so amazing,” You take your hands in his, “and I’m so proud of you, but first of all, I’ve never formally met your family and they’re just offering to house me? For how long, until the baby comes and then we’re kicked to the curb? It just sounds too good to be true. Plus, you broke my heart that night, Rafe. You were an asshole and you said some hurtful things.”

“You don’t know about us because of John B, isn’t it? You’re in love with John B?” He quickly got off the bed, “I can’t believe this.”

You winced as you sat up on the edge of the bed, “Rafe I never said I was in love with John B! John B has nothing to do with this.”

“I can give you so much more than him, y/n. I have money, I can provide for us. John B can’t even keep himself afloat! He barely scraps by! And that’s MY baby you’re carrying.”

“Yeah but I don’t want money, Rafe! I want love and support, money or not. If you really knew me, you’d know that! Plus, it doesn’t matter who’s baby it is. It is who’s there for me and the baby that matters. Just because I’m carrying your baby doesn’t mean I have to be with you.”

“I can give you the world, y/n. At the tip of a hat, we can have anything we’re going to need. You and the baby will have anything you need.” He crouches in front of you, “You wouldn’t have to work, you can stay home with the baby. We would never have to worry.”

“Rafe, you aren’t listening to me.. I don’t want money. I don’t care if you have money coming out of your ass, I don’t want it! I want you to show me this is what YOU want. That you won’t leave me high and dry when things get bad or you decide you don’t want to be held back because you have me and a baby to think about. I have a future to think about. A future that will also have an effect on the child I’m carrying.”

He stands and runs his hands through his hair, “Okay. Okay…” He looks at you, “I will show you that I’m ready for this. That I’m ready for the responsibility of taking care of you and our baby.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him take one knee in front of you, his hands taking a hold of yours, “Marry me.”

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

Part 4

A/N: AHHHHH Our very own Rafe Cameron has dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him. What will she do?? Who will she pick??

Please leave a comment or message me who you think she should pick!! I’m seriously stuck on which boy to choose so I may let you guys decide.

Obx taglist: @emmalvei-blog , @tregua-oca , @weirdbiwitch , @losers-club6 , @treestarrrrrrrr , @omgwhattheeven , @normatural , @lreincarnationl , @laurenron , @junkiemuppettxx , @beth-winchester21 , @divcrdown , @timotaychalabae , @moose-squirrel-asstiel , @tangledinsparkles , @prejudic3 , @fratboystark , @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch , @turtlee-says-rawr

Won’t let me tag: @lanarichards5

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Maybe It’s Meant To Be

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.7k

Summary: Sometimes, love finds people in unexpected ways. In this case, fate has extra special plans for America’s golden boy and one of SHIELD’s best agents in history. And you know there’s no running away from fate once she’s set out your futures for you.

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood, angst, and once again, soft steve :)

A/N: I haven’t attempted a soulmate AU in over a year. this is one of my fav works but it’s really poorly written rip. The age gap between you and Steve is ~3 years. 2017 AU where they made up after the Accords :) Steve’s back with his WS look bc that suit was hot af

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more this is for you! THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS BEING SO ACTIVE ON MY BLOG AND FOR YOUR SWEET AND SUPER ENCOURAGING WORDS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. AND @marvelsswansong BECAUSE YOU'RE MY IDOL AND I LOOK UP TO YOU YOU'RE AMAZING

Soulmates.

You'd heard plenty about them growing up. Seeing your parents' perfect relationship blossom over the years piqued your interest, and for the longest time, your only wish was to find someone who could love you with their whole heart and soul and mind, like the way your Mom and Dad loved each other.

Unfortunately, as all stories must come to an end, love stories had to find their ending. And not all of them ended on a high note.

Their jobs should've kept them apart from the beginning. Your mother was head surgeon at one of the best hospitals in Brooklyn, and your father was head of SHIELD's navy division. Constantly out and about, they were rarely granted any time to rest. Yet they still found a way to make things work; and it all started because of a run-in at a café around the corner.

Then when you were fifteen, you got word that your father had been deployed overseas again, but this time, he wasn't coming back.

You had to stand there and watch your mother slowly fall apart, breaking down a little more each day until she fell gravely ill. A mere week after her diagnosis of cardiomyopathy, she passed away in her sleep.

A person's soulmark didn't appear at a specific time. It could show up at any point in their lives, when the Gods believed the time was right for them. When those Gods felt the time was right for you to find out who it was, you'd feel a slight tingle where the mark was etched into your skin.

Some people didn't receive the soulmark at all. Along with this came a sense of freedom to fall in love with whoever they pleased, but often times it would end in a loveless relationship. But they were additionally granted the ability of being able to carry on by themselves.

If your soulmate got injured in any way, you would feel the same pain that they endured. And if they died, you would carry a weight around with you for the rest of your life that slowly progressed into a disease. So ultimately, those left in the world without their soulmate would also die in the end, further proving the claim of humans being unable to live without love.

One by one, you watched your friends find their match. They would excited come up to you, goofy grins on their faces as they showed you their marks. You were happy for them in the beginning, of course. But as years went by, and you passed adulthood with still no sign of your designated soulmark, you slowly began losing hope. There was no point in looking forward to the future when you watched one fall apart before your very eyes.

Maybe it was because of your job. None of the Avengers had received their soulmarks either, asides from Tony and Pepper. But they were an exception. Everyone could see it coming from the day they first met, judging by the way they lovingly gazed at each other from across the room. It was a match made in heaven.

You believed that maybe, just maybe, you were destined to be alone. So when you woke up one morning with the burn mark on your wrist, you were taken completely by surprise.

"Hey, Tony? Bruce?" you asked, walking into the lab with a frown. "I need to ask you guys a quick question."

"Ask away, Killer," Tony nodded, using the nickname he'd given you years ago when you first joined the initiative. "What's on your mind?"

"So, um..." you fiddled with the sleeve of your sweatshirt for a moment, before pulling it up to reveal the mark, "this happened."

"That's a soulmark," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you rolled your eyes. "But why would it appear now? I don't see any sign of me meeting them anytime soon."

"When did it appear?"

"I don't know. I woke up this morning and saw it."

"Let me take a look at that," Bruce carefully took ahold of your wrist, squinting as he adjusted his glasses to peer at the mark, "huh. So it appeared last night...have you felt any side-effects?"

"Not that I know of yet, no..."

"If you start feeling any severe symptoms, I can prescribe you some medication to deal with the pain, though I doubt that's going to happen. In the meantime, we need to figure out who this could be."

"Imagine if it was someone who already died, and I'm slowly dying right now," you joked.

"No, if that were to be true, you'd be lying in a hospital bed right now."

"Does the symbol have any specific meaning?"

"That I'm not so sure about," Tony shrugged.

Bruce was silent as he began typing away for a bit, before turning the screen over to you.

"I've checked out over a dozen different sites about this, and..."

"And what?"

"Well...once both people discover their mark, they have a week to find each other before both of them disappear off the face of the earth, forever."

"Sounds like a damn time bomb to me," you muttered. "What the hell? I thought that the point of this whole thing was the gods trying to push us with someone else! Not the other way around!"

"I don't know, Y/N," Bruce sighed. "Feel free to do your own research, but everything I've read up on so far says the same thing."

"So basically, what you're telling me is I'm gonna die if I don't find out who the hell has this same mark as I do," you repeated.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, I'll have to worry about that later. Got a briefing with Cap, Bucky, and Wilson in five. Fury's gonna kill me if I'm late again," you breathed out as you tugged your hoodie's sleeve back down. "See ya."

"Agent Y/N," Nick Fury gave you a curt nod as you burst into the meeting room, breathless. "I hope you slept well last night."

"Of course."

"I need you four to track down a weapons dealer in Skagway," he explained as he handed Steve a black manila file folder, "shut down the base, download the intel onto the flashdrive. You’ll be staying at a safe house in Juneau afterwards for about a week to keep things on the down-low in case something goes wrong. Simple in-and-out job."

"When are we leaving?" Sam questioned.

"You're taking off in half an hour. Suit up."

You sighed. Finding your soulmate would just have to wait, then.

...

"Y/N, look out!"

You quickly whipped around and narrowly missed a bullet whizzing past you, as Steve tugged you around the corner, an arm wrapped firmly around your torso as he hid you both behind his shield.

You gasped as you felt a sharp pain in your chest, and Steve immediately pulled away from you in alarm, gripping your shoulders worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you panted, trying to steady your rapid breathing, “I’m fine. But we’re gonna have to split up from here if we wanna get the job done faster.”

“Y/N, I can’t-”

“Steve,” you interrupted, the firm tone of voice making him immediately shut up. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Go find Sam and Bucky, and I’ll meet you guys by the rendezvous point as soon as I’m done. Okay?”

“Alright.” He looked around for a moment before stepping away, as if he was hesitant to leave you on your own.

Ignoring the slight ache in your chest, you parted ways, darting down the hall with your guns up and ears alert.

From there, it was easy to fall into your usual routine. Keep all eyes and ears open; don’t hesitate, shoot on sight unless ordered otherwise. If necessary, engage powers but if not, use your fists or bullets. The mantra repeated itself over and over in your head as you followed through with your job.

You hid behind a tower of wooden crates, back pressed up against the steel walls. “Sam. Status update?”

“Controls room with Barnes, disabling all security systems. Steve’s retrieving intel from the north wing. You?”

“Outside on standby,” you murmured, keeping a finger pressed to your ear. Three technicians were loading equipment onto crates as the other six stood guard several yards away. “I make nine hostiles on the load dock straight ahead at twelve o’clock. Three dozen in total scattered around the area. Most likely preparing for an overseas arms trade. We’ll have to stop them.”

“And...done. We’re heading your way,” Bucky reported. “Be there in three.”

“Roger that.”

Exactly three minutes and two seconds later Bucky showed up, with Steve and Sam in tow. You came out from your hiding spot and began making your way towards the loading dock where the agents were stationed. They were quick to stop what they were doing and noticed the four of you approaching, whipping their snipers out and proceeding to open fire.

...

Your breath came out in white wisps of fog as you got caught in between a fistfight with one of the three dozen men on the docks, the freezing cold slowing all your movements and making them feel more sluggish than usual. If it weren’t for the thick material of your suit and your enhancements, you would’ve succumbed to the harsh weather hours ago.

The man captured you into a tight headlock with his thick arm but despite your frostbite you were too fast; you quickly whipped around and grabbed his wrist, twisting it to the side. His eyes widened slightly as he cried out in pain, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the frigid Alaskan air as you swiftly dodged each one of moves as he attempted to come at you, countering with a sharp right hook to his jaw.

His body slumped to the ground with a thump.

“Why the hell do you even carry around a sniper if your fists do all the work for you?” Sam yelled over the cacophony as he released Redwing, swooping down from the rooftops. “Seriously, you don’t need guns! You’re strong enough as it is!”

“I prefer versatility in fights, Wilson!” you yelled back, grunting as you dodged a blow to the stomach, sweeping out your attacker’s feet from underneath him as his head smacked against the wall, before sliding down to the ground with a dull thud.

“Y/N, look out-” Bucky called out, but it was too late. You didn’t get to hear his warning in time before you felt something cold and hard hit your lower abdomen. A yell of pain ripped through your throat as you felt a sticky warmth spread across your skin, your knees hitting the ground as you clutched the wound.

At that exact moment, Steve felt a sharp pain flare up his side as well. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, “Buck, cover me so I can get to her.”

You were barely clinging on to life by the time he reached you. Your breathing was heavy and labored, your eyes beginning to roll back as you struggled to stay awake. Everything hurt. Your arms and legs felt like they were weighed down with bricks. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t open your mouth to scream, either - you had no energy left to do so.

“Come on, Y/N, stay with me, please stay with me,” he muttered as he began carefully applying pressure to your wound. You let out a hiss of pain at the same time he did. “Just hang in there for me, please. Sam’s getting the Quinjet ready. We’re gonna get out of here in just a few minutes, okay? Please don’t die on me.”

“Look, if I don’t make it-”

“Don’t say that,” he spoke in between clenched teeth while fighting back tears of his own, “you’re not going to die. Not today, not tomorrow, and certainly not on my watch.”

“Steve…” you croaked out, the stinging from the wound almost becoming impossible to bear. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the second, your body throbbing painfully now that all the adrenaline had worn off. It was a struggle just to take in a single breath and to stay awake. "I'm so tired, I can't do this anymore..."

He disappeared from your line of sight as your began seeing spots at the edges of your vision momentarily, before reappearing and pulling you into his lap, trying to put pressure on the area of injury again in an attempt to stem the bleeding. But it didn’t seem to work. There was so much blood. So much of it, coming out so fast. There was no way you’d last out here for longer than ten minutes before bleeding to death.

"Stay with me..." he murmured as he looked up around him. "Hang in there for a few more minutes, please…Damn it, Sam, how much longer is this gonna take? Y/N’s down. We gotta get her to the safe house as soon as we can. She’s bleeding out.”

"Three minutes, tops. I’m circling the perimeter as an extra precaution," Sam replied. "You guys hang tight for a sec."

"We don't have time!" he raised his voice. "Just hurry the hell over here."

"I'm so sorry," you choked out before going into a coughing fit, blood dripping down your lips and chin much to Steve’s alarm. "I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry for being reckless and not keeping a look ou—"

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed, "There’s nothing to be sorry about. Just save your energy for later, okay? You're gonna be just fine."

"Hold my hand," you begged hoarsely.

"I already am," the super-soldier answered, but his look shifted to that of an alarmed one when he realized you couldn't feel it. "Y/N—"

"I'm cold," you said weakly, already feeling your limbs grow heavy and numb and your vision growing blurrier with each passing second. "I'm so tired, Cap, I just wanna sleep—"

"No no no, please don't leave me," he pleaded as he felt his head begin to spin as well. Where had the sudden wave of dizziness come from? "Hang in there for a little longer, please, I l—"

You didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence before your eyes fluttered shut and everything went dark.

...

When you came to, your throat felt dry and raw, the metallic taste of dried blood around your lips and chin overwhelming your senses as you adjusted your eyes to the harsh bright lights streaming into the room. It looked like you were in some sort of antique coastal house, strangely void of belongings with the only decoration being a plain floral calendar hung on the wall opposite you, above the fireplace.

You were still in your suit, but your wound had been treated and wrapped up in a thick set of bandages. The couch you were on was old but extremely comfortable, so you found yourself not wanting to sit up at the same time you wanted to get up and look around.

The blinds were drawn shut, but the sunlight still managed to shine through. It was light outside, but you weren’t sure what time it really was. The walls were a dull grey, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faint ticking of a nearby clock and probably Bucky or Sam talking on the phone upstairs with someone in hushed whispers.

You finally pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing around at your surroundings. Someone quietly entered the living room and you looked up to see Steve. His shoulders sagged in relief upon seeing that you were awake.

“Hey,” his voice came out so softly it took both of you by surprise. You moved over slightly to make room for him to sit. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” you groaned lightly, feeling a dull ache in your stomach where you’d been hit. “But other than that, I’m fine. What about you? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“Body aches that come and go, but I’m fine. It isn’t your place to be worrying about me right now though, Y/N. You got shot.”

The curtains fluttered and a cool breeze rushed in, making you shiver. Steve took notice and stood up to go light up the fireplace, then sat back down and wrapped the fleece blanket around your body. You let out a small sigh of contentment. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? You knocked out for over twenty-six hours .”

“I’m fine, Steve, just tired...hey, how’s Bucky and Sam?”

“Sam’s upstairs radioing Fury on the mission status. Bucky’s taking a nap in the guest room.”

“Oh. Okay. So, I-” you were interrupted by a sharp stabbing sensation in your wrist. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Language,” he joked lightly, but when he saw the obvious pained expression on your face, his face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just...I get those random pains from time to time. I don’t know why, but...they’ve gotten worse since we took off for Skagway and then came here...”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “I should’ve kept a closer watch over you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine...I should’ve watched my own back better.”

You both fell into an awkward silence for several minutes before he spoke up again, the realization finally dawning on him.

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Your wrist."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked down and saw the star glowing brightly, sending a white-hot pain down your arm. "What about it?"

Steve pulled at his shirt's sleeve for a few seconds before lifting it up to reveal the same exact symbol.

"We're soulmates," you breathed out, the realization hitting you like a flash flood.

"Yeah, I guess we are, huh," he smiled softly.

“W-when did yours appear?”

“Monday afternoon.”

“Mine appeared in the morning...I showed it to Tony and Bruce and they said I had a week to find who it was or both me and my soulmate would die. So I guess we got lucky, huh? Only four more days, then...”

“Yeah, we did,” he exhaled. “I’m glad you’re the one. I can’t imagine living out the rest of my life with anyone else.”

“But Peggy...”

“She found her soulmate decades ago,” he explained, “which explained why our relationship was so short-lived. I didn’t expect to find mine...especially not after coming out of the ice. Maybe I had this coming from the get-go, I’d wonder...”

“Then how come they’d appear now?” Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t get it. We’ve known each other for years.”

“Because it was only this year that I accepted it.”

“Accepted what?”

“That I’d fallen in love with you, and I kept that inside for far too long.”

“You...what?” You were officially rendered speechless.

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, face breaking into a gorgeous, million-dollar grin before turning serious again, lowering his voice. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. You are my infinity and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my present and my future, and I hate that I couldn’t see that sooner. I should’ve known from the start that Peggy and I wouldn’t work out, but I never understood why...until I met you. I didn’t believe in the concept of soulmates because I felt I was undeserving of that love, but then you came along...and I started hoping and praying I’d find someone who’d love me as much as I love you. So now that I know for sure it’s you, that it always has been and always will be...I couldn’t be more happier that you’re my soulmate.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he reached forward to brush your hair away from your face and wipe the stray tears that fell, before wrapping an arm around you and gently pulling you towards him.

“God, I made you cry, I’m so sorry,” he choked on a sob of his own. “I’m the worst.”

“I’m not mad at you, Steve,” you sniffed as you wiped your nose with your sleeve, and looked up and cracked a small grin. “You’re just so cheesy.”

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t catch what he said.

“You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled.

“I love you more than you know.”

“I know. I love you too.”

He then brought a hand up to cup your face, allowing his thumb to lightly skim against your cheek, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

When his lips met yours, it was like you were turning back the clock. Everything in the world stopped and held its breath, and all the hurt, all the sadness and heartache and pain bottled up inside your body, washed away.

...

BONUS

“HOLY SHIT, Y’ALL ARE SOULMATES?”

The sound of Sam’s screeching made you finally break apart for air. You could’ve been like that for two minutes, two hours, or two weeks, you weren’t sure.

You blushed and quickly averted your gaze.

Steve’s face was as red as a tomato. “Yeah. We are.”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM SOON! PAY UP, BARNES! YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS.”

“Come on, man,” Bucky groaned, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “We’re gonna head back home soon, anyways! And you’re not even poor.”

“A bet’s a bet, Barnes.”

“Of course you two bet on it,” you groaned. “Classic Sambucky activity.”

...

NINE MONTHS LATER

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Captain Rogers,” Fury announced, a rare smile gracing his normally stoic features.

Steve did his best not to break down sobbing as he slid the ring onto your finger. With the backdrop of the waves gently crashing against the shore and the sun slowly sinking lower and lower into the horizon, he leaned down and cupped your face in his hands, passionately pressing his lips to yours. Your soulmarks glowed brightly in tandem, lighting up in a brilliant gold hue.

Needless to say, there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house.

318 notes · View notes

hayjeon · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart on Fire 01 [M] ft. Namjoon

→ fireman!namjoon and paramedic!y/n au (warning: drunken sex, oral, etc.) → 10k words, part 1 | part 2 | fin. → As a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.

Hi! this is a reupload, and i figured i’d vamp up the title and the header in the meantime! Thank you to the user who managed to save this just in time, after I accidentally deleted it T___T I am forever indebted to you, and I lost your username, so if you see this pls dm me i’d love to write something for as a token of my appreciation!

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair as the lawyer continues to lay out the demands.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you huff, glaring at the idiot gangster who’s at the other side of the room. He cringes a bit at your glare, nursing an ice pack against his bruised cheek.

“I swear, he slapped my ass! I was just retaliating!” You cry, frustrated. Your surgery chief huffs angrily at your behavior and you settle back, clenching your fists on top of the table.

The lawyer snarks back, “You also managed to cause damage to the victim’s body in the process. He’s demanding full reparations. Let’s see,” she muses, flipping through the documents spread out on the table between the both of you. “A broken nose, bruised cheekbone, fractured wrist from when he fell, and muscle strains on his lower back, and psychological damage from framing him for sexual harassment and from the physical assault. In total, it would amount the hospital to about $50,000 to cover the hospital costs and the time he would need to talk off from his job, and the continued physical and mental therapy sessions to follow for around 6 months.” She closes the file with a grin. “So, Dr. Y/N, what’s it gonna be?”

“Chief, I can’t believe we’re just losing to him!” You cry, following after Dr. Kim, who’s seething as he storms down the hall outside of the conference room.

He screeches to a halt, turning around with a glare. “Well, what do you wanna do?!” He throws his hands up in defeat, “You want to cause a whole legal issue? You know that there’s really nothing else we can do in this situation! It’s your word against his, and the video cameras only show proof of him passing by you, and then you throwing a big ass punch in his fucking face!” He cries, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples.

“Look, Dr. Y/N, you did the right thing. The fucker deserved the punch, and you threw a good one. But,” he continues, placing his glasses back on his nose and patting your shoulder, “giving him the money is the best thing we could do for both the hospital and for you. So, just, take this next month off, get the community service done and then come right back. Alright? I’ll even let you head all the interesting cases that come into the operating room.”

He sighs, and walks off, leaving you behind. You roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair, fist clenching on the brochure of community service options for doctors.

The fucker had brought his girlfriend in during your shift at the emergency room, and while she was getting stitches for a cut that she got from a building collapse, in the craze of the emergency room, he was going around touching asses. You’d heard the nurses complaining about it, about how it was just a swipe of the hand that seemed like an accident, but multiple had the same experience from the same seedy-looking jerk.

When it was your turn to go up to the patient and explain that her stitches were done and she was alright to go home, he’d come up next to you and his knuckles grazed the skin of your ass. Sick of everything, you’d pushed him back and socked him straight in the face.

Later, from the cameras though, there was no visible evidence of him touching anyone, and it was your word against the clear security camera shot of you socking him right in his big ass nose. So you open the brochure and plop down at your desk to see what options there were. There were the general ones, where you could serve and clean up at a park or volunteer at a soup kitchen, and then there was a separate page for doctors who probably just wanted to maintain their skills in the field they volunteered in. You pick up the phone.

“What?” Yugyeom asks, “Chief seriously ended up giving you a probation period for community service?” He sighs over the phone, and you roll your eyes too.

“Yeah,” you huff, “which one should I do? I should sign up today, since it might take a bit to get approved and might as well start early so I can go back to work as soon as I get all my hours finished.”

He muses, probably scanning the picture you sent him. “Hm...well look, you can go travel to Africa or Cambodia or something. It’ll be like that one drama with Song Joong Ki in it. Maybe you’ll meet a hot military general. What do you think?”

“Too far,” you complain, taking a red pen and drawing a line through it. “Also, they don’t cover air fare or housing. Maybe something more local.”

“Okay, well then what about teaching kids in elementary and high school about general first aid and health? You can maybe meet a single teacher who’s good with kids. That’s kind of hot.”

“I fucking hate kids, Yug, you know that,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and crossing out that option. “Also, why are you trying to get me laid, you should be worried about your own empty gay love life.”

He huffs, “Well, bitch, if you’re gonna be so picky why’d you call. Just take the second to last one, the medic for the fire department! It’ll be fun, I know a friend who works in the one that’s close by to the hospital, so you can just commute from there and if you guys ever end up coming to the emergency room, you’ll see all of us there too.”

You hum, scanning through the brief description: Medic for the Seoul Fire Department. In-department housing and meals provided during both on-call and working hours. Needs basic EMT and paramedic skills. Must be able to handle emergency situations calmly and communicate with safety officers.

You purse your lips, scoffing a little bit at the emergency part. “Well, if there’s something I can handle, it’s emergency.”

He laughs, “What a downgrade...from a cardio surgeon to a paramedic. Jeez, you better get out of this one quick. Just make sure not to punch anyone during duty, and you’ll be fine.”

“Shut up bitch. Let’s go clubbing tonight. I need to let some of this stress out before I get trapped in there.”

The night was lively and the drinks kept flowing. Jennie and Jackson from Health and Nutrition, Sana from pediatrics, Yugyeom and Seulgi from Cardio, and even the oh-so-popular Jaebom and Jinyoung from general surgery came out.

You were dressed in the hottest dress you could find in Seulgi’s closet, and according to Yugyeom’s apparently “gay and therefore superior opinion,” your outfit and hair and makeup were basically a “straight guy’s ticket to bonertown.”

“Legit, how could you be so gay but also talk like such a frat boy at the same time?” You sneer, taking another shot of vodka.

He sucks on his lemon, and then flashes a smile. “It’s the best combination. I pull.”

He cocks his chin to a direction behind you. “Also seems like I was right, because you’ve been pulling too. That guys been staring ever since we got to the bar.”

You turn, blurry vision settling on a handsome, leather jacket clad guy that’s sitting with two other guys at the table. He’s looking now, eyebrow cocked and lip between his teeth. He’s not usually your type, but you feel it. This, was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

You get up, patting Yugyeom on the arm. “Thanks, I’ll take myself home tonight.” He whistles behind you as you try your best to make your way to the guy, but suddenly your drunk ass hobbles on your Forever 21 heels, and you topple to the side. All of a sudden, there’s a strong hand gripping your upper arm and pulling you up, and an arm wrapping around your waist to offer support.

“Oh shit, miss, you alright?” A low voice sounds right next to your ear. You look up, expecting to see the leather jacket guy, but this...this was much better. This guy was dressed in only a black t-shirt tucked into blue jeans. But his simple ensemble didn’t matter. He was tall, way taller than you in your tallest heels, and he smelled so damn good. His hair was slicked up and his skin absolutely golden. He wasn’t biting his lip or doing anything to try and hook up with you, but in seconds, you were sopping wet.

No, this was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

“I will be,” you answer him, straightening up and pressing yourself up against him. “when you buy me a drink.”

He seems to understand what you’re getting at. He chuckles a bit, eyebrow quirking and you think it’s the hottest shit you’ve ever seen since waterproof scrubs. He helps you straighten up. “I think you’ve had enough drinks already. Can I get you some water?”

“Yes,” you breathe, but not letting go. “But only if you stay with me until I’m finished.”

He smiles, and keeps his hand on your waist as he guides you the bar and orders a cup of water. You sit on the single empty bar stool, and he stands, and you revel in the fact that even on this tall bar stool, he still stands taller than you.

You sip the water, and he leans an elbow on the bar, inches from you.

“So, what brings you stumbling into this bar?”

“I’m here with some coworkers,” you say, and he leans in closer to hear you over the loud music.

“Won’t they be looking for you?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” You pout, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Hell no, I’m just worried.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead.” You fire back, and he laughs again.

“You gonna keep laughing at my jokes or are you gonna ask me to come home with you?” You raise your brows as you sip your water, looking at him over the rim. His expression darkens, but the corner of his mouth sexily turns up.

“I might laugh a little more just to tease, I suppose. Helps build up for later.” He leans up, hand on the bar, but steps a bit closer to you this time. If you leaned up a bit, you’d kiss. He chuckles again, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Shut up and kiss me already.”

He smiles and leans down, other hand cradling your waist as you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling harshly when he slides his tongue into your mouth as soon as you open up for him.

He’s a good kisser. He knows how to move his lips, knows when to pull back to leave you wanting for more, and does that thing where he stops kissing to just peck wetly at your lips before sinking in for more. Hook, line, and sinker. You’re done. “Let’s get out of here, please,” you whimper against his lips, and he smiles, straightening up.

“As you wish. Oh, also what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you shout over the music. “What about you?”

“You can call me Joon.” He smirks.

The ride to his apartment is blurry, because all you remember is a lot of giggling and trying not to moan at how his hand is so big around your thigh that you have you physically restrain yourself from jumping him on the highway right there. The tires screech as he parks and you both laugh as you stumble into the elevator, giving the security guards watching the cameras a show when you straight up make out with him in the corner of the elevator, his hand up your dress and your hand up his shirt.

He pushes you against his closed door, dropping his keys and jacket on the ground as he undoes the zipper on your dress. You tug at his shirt, “Off,” you whine, and he smiles, stepping back to whip his shirt off with one hand behind his neck.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” you whimper, and he kisses you breathless. “You’ve been saying that all night. Creative, much?”

“Fuck off, I don’t do hook ups much and I’m just telling the truth,” you say, as he gathers you in his arms and literally picks you up and heads to his bedroom. His hands squeeze your ass as he makes his way over, and you catch a glimpse of a neat, tidy living room. His bedroom is clean too, especially for a bachelor. Navy blue sheets, sleek, black furniture, expensive looking place. He was literally so fucking hot.

He drops you on the bed and immediately drapes over you, his jeans rubbing against your soaked panties. He slides his splayed palms up from your waist up to your breasts, mouth following the motion as he laves his tongue over your nipple, palm gently cupping the weight of your breasts in the grip between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. You preen at the sensation, back arching off the bed. “Pants off,” you pant, squirming underneath the warmth of his hands and mouth.

“So bossy,” he comments, smirking as he leans up on his knees to undo his belt. “I dig that.”

You lay back, taking the time to wiggle out of your soaked panties. You thank the gods you chose to wear your new set of lace undies because the rest of your drawer was basically an ocean of white granny panties. He finally drapes back over you, hand gripping your thigh to open you up as he mouths at your neck.

You retaliate by reaching down and gripping his cock, hand squeezing at his base. You can’t really see it because your face is nestled in his shoulder, but you can feel how hard and big he is. He groans at the sensation, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending tingles down your spine and your core clenching around nothing.

He props himself up as he looks down at you and slides a finger between your folds. Your yelp dissolves into a drawn out moan. “Oh my god,” you pant, as he slides the flat of two fingers over your bundle of nerves, “please don’t stop that.” You also work your fist over his cock, mouth blubbering nonsense into his neck. He moves the fingers down into your pussy, sliding in with practically no resistance and slowly drawing them in and out your wetness. You don’t really have much time to be embarrassed by the wetness you can hear, because Joon closes his eyes and bites at the soft skin at the top of your breast.

“Shit,” he grits, and he looks down to see the way your wetness glistens on his fingers, “I don’t think I can wait. Are you good?”

You nod eagerly, and you let go of him as he gives you a hard kiss on the mouth and slides a condom on while still fingering you. Its probably not porn-worthy whatever sounds you’re making, but it seems to do the trick because he kisses you even harder and then flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting in his lap. He cradles your waist and descends on your breasts again, tongue circling your sensitive nubs as you sink down on him inch by inch.

When you bottom out, you clench around him. He’s so long and thick, and it’s been a while since your last hook up. It borders on soreness, but the sensation of him moaning with your nipple in between his lips is enough of a distraction for you to work up the nerve to start moving.

It’s embarrassing how turned on right now you are, but Joon seems to be at the same level of deliriousness because he doesn’t stop touching you. From gripping your thighs, to groping your ass, sliding his hands from your waist up to your ribs, tangling in your hair, gently curling around your neck and tightening slightly, he’s literally everywhere.

“Fuck,” you cry out when one of his hands are around your neck, squeezing lightly. You slow down, grinding instead of bouncing, and the new rhythm puts your clit in that perfect position to get stimulated by his pelvis, and his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you that you find yourself hurtling over the edge much faster than you’d imagined.

He mouths at your cheek and ear, hand still around your neck when you cum, and suddenly he grips your thigh and presses you down against his pillows as he kneels in front of you and begins fucking you hard. The bed knocks against the wall, but you can’t care because the new position has your orgasm prolonged to a point that you’ve never felt before and your mouth just stays open in a mouthless cry against his chest as he tenses and finishes into the condom, mouth panting hoarse compliments into your ear. “Holy shit, your pussy feels so good. So tight, fuck.”

He pulls out and rolls over so he’s not crushing you, and you let out a final breath. “Wow,” you say, chest heaving as he ties the condom and throws it away. He props his head up on an elbow, grinning at you. “That good?” He says cockily, and you turn to lightly punch his chest.

“Don’t get too cocky. It was just one orgasm.”

“But also seems like the best you’ve ever had.” He adds. You roll your eyes and retort, “Well, that’s what you think--,” but your laugh dissolves into a moan again when he reaches over and pulls you underneath him to press a long, wet kiss to your mouth.

“Shut up,” he whispers between kisses, "and kiss me back already.” You smile as he kisses you, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, and scratching lightly at his shoulder blades. He growls, and moves to your neck. You sigh as he draws more open-mouthed kisses down your neck and torso, and again when a big hand splays over your thigh to hook it over his shoulder. He presses a peck against your folds and looks up at you, and you mewl as he draws the flat of his tongue thickly through your pussy all the way up. You’re a goner.

“I’m gonna make sure you never forget my name.”

The walk of shame isn’t so bad when you basically have no time to waste as you gather your things and glance once back at Joon who’s still sleeping before running down to his lobby. You don’t really care for the disapproving looks you get, as you rush to get into your uber, and immediately thank god that this particular driver offers you a tiny complimentary water bottle. You chug it down, and try not to throw up.

You literally hurtle out of the car when he gets to your place, making a mental note to tip him heftily, seeing the way he booked it when you asked him to hurry a little. You step into a hot shower and don’t even have time to pick up the dirty clothes off the floor as you quickly dress in a white shirt and navy skirt and run out of your apartment to the bus stop.

Thankfully, you make it on time to your interview, and even though the captain gives a small disapproving look to your wet hair tips, he gives you a huge, bright smile when you tell him you’re a cardio surgeon “taking a break.” When you told him that you used to work as a paramedic before medical school a few years ago, he basically hired you on the spot, babbling on about how much he loves people with more experience.

“So, miss Y/N, what are your interests, your hobbies?” Hoseok trails like a little puppy after you as you walk down the hall from the Fire Captain’s office to your team’s multipurpose room. You frown at him. “Eh,” you brush him off, “not much.”

He smiles, pushing his hair back from his face and trying to stand up tall, “Well, doctor, I love lifting weights and saving damsels in distress. What are you doing later, say, around 5?” You turn on your heel, and he bumps into you, scuttling backwards at the glare you have on your face.

“Look, honey,” you sneer, stepping towards him with a scowl, “You’re cute, but I’m hungover.” you say, scanning him up and down, “And I’m only here for a month and I swear if I have to spend the entire 30 days having you chase me down like a little pet, then I’m probably going to just jump off a building. Okay? So do me a favor, and stop asking me out.”

He gawks at you, and then recovers. “Wait...you’re only here for a month?”

Rolling your eyes, you resume walking towards the wait room. He wasn’t going to stop. “Yes, I’m here just to serve a short community service sentence.”

He hums, following your footsteps again, grinning. “Okay, fine. I won’t try to ask you out. I’ll just keep replaying the part where you said I’m cute over and over again in my head.” He winks at you lightheartedly.

“Here, let me introduce you to the guys.” He walks a bit faster than you as you approach the room, and creaks the door open and lets you in.

As soon as the door swings open, your eyes grow wide as you take in the sight in front of you. In the room, theres a half naked guy digging through the refrigerator, his firefighter’s outfit hanging around his hips. A pair of muscular large ones are wrestling in the corner, also only decked in sweatpants low on their hips. One lounges on the couch in a pair of glasses and a plain white t-shirt and navy uniform pants and boots, while a similarly dressed shorter one is asleep. A tall one is in the corner playing with a tiny puppy. All six of them swivel their heads towards you when you enter.

You wave awkwardly and take a step back to leave when Hoseok bounds in after you and throws an arm around your shoulder, announcing proudly, “Hey guys, this is the new medic hire! Dr. L/N!”

The one closest to you gives you a smile, taking off his glasses and setting his book aside to reach out a hand. “Hey, I’m Seokjin, captain. Nice to meet you doctor!” He smiles and you make a note of how hot he looks in glasses and how broad his shoulders were.

“You can just call me by my first name, y/n,” you shake his hand, “Likewise.”

Another one that was digging through the fridge approaches you with a piece of gummy candy hanging from his lips. His face is sharp, but he breaks out in a huge smile that lights up his face. “Taehyung! Hi y/n, welcome to Unit 55!”

You shake his hand too, “Thanks. Do you have any firewomen?” You glance around as the pair who were wrestling stop their antics and approach you shyly. The taller one shrugs, his muscles rippling as he does and you make a huge effort not to stare. “No, honestly it’s really hard to find a firewoman these days and they probably don’t like spending time with all guys like us either.”

Taehyung leans over. “That’s Jungkook by the way.”

His partner punches Jungkook’s bicep and turns to you with a show-stopping smile. Oh. The girls would swoon for both of them, you note. They’ll have no problem finding firewomen who want to spend all day with them. “I’m Jimin. And even though this idiot makes us sound like a bunch of goons, it’s just rough being around 7 guys all the time for girls probably. But we’ll do our best to help you get comfortable around here. We’re really fun, I promise!”

You frown, glancing around the room and counting the people you’d met already. Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin. Which left just the one still asleep somehow through all the commotion on the couch. Seeing your eyes trail over him, Seokjin looks at you over the rims of his glasses, pointing at the sleeping figure with his chin. “Oh, yeah. That’s Yoongi. Good thing he’s not awake cause he’s really grouchy, but he’s also a really good driver so we keep him. You should meet him later when he’s done with his nap.”

You laugh a little, and nod. “And the 7th?”

Jungkook throws on a shirt as he talks. “Namjoon, our unit Battalion Chief. He’s not here right now, but you’ll be able to meet him later. He basically runs this whole thing.”

“Oh I see,” you muse, and give a tight-lipped smile. “Well, maybe I’ll start moving my things in soon. Can you show me my room?”

“Bitch,” Yugyeom sneers as he watches open-mouthed as the guys help unload your car at the station. “You didn’t tell me that all your co-workers were single, hot guys that walked around shirtless all the time.” He frowns at you, ignoring your eye roll, and then switching 180 degrees and laughing and smiling when Taehyung walks by with all your heavy trunks in his arms.

“Hahahaha, Y/N, you’re so funny,” he fakes, and then turns to you with a glint in his eye. “Maybe I should’ve punched that idiot in the face too and I would’ve been here instead.” He hisses, gawking at the way Jungkook and Jimin both easily haul your mattress up the steps. Shirtless, by the way. Again.

You sigh. “It’s only for a month. And honestly, you’re such a fake ass little bitch. You were the one trying to find me a man, and now that I’m surrounded by them, you resent me for it?” you huff. “Oh, Jin, those drawers just go in the closet, thank you.”

“No problem Y/N,” Seokjin grins, pushing up his glasses as he walks past you two easily, holding up the chest of drawers that took both you and Yugyeom an entire twenty minutes to shove in the moving truck. You give him a smile in return and turn back to Yug with a snort. “Wipe your drool.” You laugh, and he closes his mouth with a clack.

“I’ll literally visit you, like all the time, Y/N,” he whispers.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh also,” he turns to you inquisitively. “What happened last weekend? Did you end up going home with that hot guy?”

You pull him closer. “Keep your voice down,” you hiss. “Yes. I fucked him.”

He whistles lowly. “He wasn’t that good?”

Sighing, you check to make sure all the other boys aren’t in the vicinity. “No, that’s the problem. He was too good. I can’t stop thinking about it. Haven’t had a proper orgasm since.”

He looks unsurprised. “Well, when’s the last time you got laid. College?”

“Shut up, asshole,” you frown, “It’s only been like...a few months.”

“Okay, so I guess we’re calling last year’s during our we’re-not-interns-anymore-party a ‘couple months’ ago. It was like 13 months ago.” He points out, and you glare at him.

“Fine,” you snap, “okay? It’s been, like a year. But he was really good, no matter how deprived I’ve been.”

Yugyeom still looks unimpressed, so you pull his sleeve down to whisper in his ear. “I had five orgasms that night.”

He straightens up, turning to you with wide eyes, “FIVE ORGASMS?”

You wince as chief walks by with a stern look, and you pinch Yugyeom in the side as you laugh, “Oh hahahaha, Yugyeom, you’re such a hilarious guy. Why would a patient even talk about those kinds of horrible things in the waiting room?!”

That seems to help as the chief’s expression lightens and he smiles as he grabs a cup of coffee and ascends the stairs again. You drop the smile as soon as the chief is out of earshot and punch Yugyeom hard.

“Little bitch,” you hiss, “are you trying to get me fired?”

He rubs the spot that you punched. “Ow, and no. I’m just shocked. Did you even get his number or something?”

You sigh, watching as the boys come back down to retrieve a couple more things. “No,” you say forlornly, “I literally had to run out for my interview. I only know his name, and I’m not even sure if its right.”

Yugyeom sighs, watching Jungkook and Jimin banter as they come back down.

“Well, at least you have guys like them to keep you company. Did you bring your vibrator along?”

You pinch him again.

With the help of the boys, moving in wasn’t a problem. Surprisingly, the bunk rooms aren’t at all what you’d expected. It was less of a college dorm room style, and more of like a communal housing unit. Apparently, the Seoul station had updated their housing recently, so the inside looked like a newly furnished office hotel, basically.

Jimin was nice enough to move into Hoseok’s room so that you could have the corner room all to yourself, with a private bath attached. It was adequately sized, but there was a nice closet and twin size bed attached, which was an upgrade from the dinky communal on-call room bunk beds that the hospital provided for the residents to sleep in.

There wasn’t even much to unpack, besides a few articles of clothing, a desk and computer for you to do some catching up on hospital paperwork, a mattress so you could sleep on without knots in your back, and your toiletries. You had a uniform anyway, and you were pretty low maintenance. The hospital shifts didn’t really give much space or time to pay attention to your fashion sense or your looks, and it wasn’t going to change now, either.

You make your way downstairs after finishing, with the stairs of course. The boys had kept trying to convince you that you won’t die if you try the pole, but honestly you weren’t down to break your ankle, especially when you were expected to help during an emergency situation. The stairs were fine. You were only on the second floor anyway.

The boys are already eating in the large lounge, and you see that the sleepy fireman had woken up and had starting to cook.

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls, scooting his chair over to make room for you at the center of their table. “Here!”

You smile and set down your phone, taking a seat as Taehyung brings you a tray. Its pasta and steak, with a huge side salad and green beans. You gape at the cook who’s still engrossed in tasting and perfecting the sauce for the pasta.

“Yoongi hyung’s a really good cook,” Jimin says, with a mouthful of salad and steak. With that, the man in question appears behind the younger firefighter and hands him a cup of water. “Don’t eat and talk at the same time. It’s disgusting.” He says with a curled lip, and then gives you a nod.

“You’re the new paramedic hire right?” He asks.

You nod, “Hi, yes. I’m Y/N.” He shakes your hand, nods, and turns away. “Not much of a talker, is he?” You say, and the boys chuckle.

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, “Yoongi’s not really an extroverted type. But he’ll warm up to you, just give it time.”

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. You have to sit in your room for a couple hours though, watching boredly through the instructional training online lessons you had to complete before starting your first day. You’re close to dozing off when a soft knock sounds.

“Yes!” You sit up and turn, and Jungkook appears, smiling sweetly. “Hi, Y/N! What you doin’?”

You stick a thumb at your computer, “Training videos,” you sigh, curling your lip. “Why?”

“Oh, hyungs and I are gonna watch a movie. If you wanna come sit with us in the lounge and do your training or just watch with us, you’re welcome to!”

You pause. “Won’t it be loud? I probably won’t be able to get anything done.”

“I’m pretty sure Seokjin hyung has done basic training before. He can probably give you all the answers to those end-of-lecture quizzes.”

Now there was your incentive to go. You smile, standing up and closing your laptop. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? Let’s go.”

He guides you down to where the lounge is and all the boys chime a nice “hello” or “y/n!” when you appear in the doorway. You can see that a new episode of Game of Thrones is on. You pad over to Seokjin and he smiles when you ask him for the favor, and moves seats to the couch behind so you can sit with him and watch at the same time.

The night goes smoothly, you tapping Seokjin everytime you finish a lesson and him pausing to quickly finish the quizzes, and you joining in with the debates about the show occasionally. Yoongi brings out some snacks, and eventually Jimin brings out a blanket for you, and by the end of the episode, your training is finished and you’re sipping on soda and eating pizza.

It’s nice, you think, a lot nicer than the hospital. You were used to the competitive nature of medicine. It was always competing against the other residents or interns to get a spot that had ridiculously low acceptance rates. There was always no time to relax. This wasn’t bad at all.

But you shake your head. This was temporary. A break. No need to get attached. They’re just being hospitable. You give a tight lipped smile as the episode ends and you take your laptop and blanket with you as you stand. “Thanks, guys, for inviting me. I’m gonna turn in tonight.” you say, slowly shuffling away. “Good night!” Taehyung yells, and the other boys chime in one by one.

You set your stuff down in your room and get ready for bed. Laying in your single bed, with no one else snoring or sleep talking, and with no post-surgery fatigue to get you straight to sleep, it’s hard. You end up staring up at the ceiling of your room, sighing as you try to think of the most boring topics in the world to try and get to sleep.

“Just a few weeks, y/n.” you murmur, turning onto your side.

You’re finally dozing off when suddenly, the intercom you had no idea was located right outside your door bursts to life. “Code 904B Building Fire. Code 904B Building Fire.”

You scramble up, throwing your covers back as you stick your head out into the hallway. The lights are flashing brightly, but you can hear the sounds of the boys in each room getting ready. The first one out into the hallway is Taehyung, and he jogs up to you. “Put on your uniform, y/n,” he pants, “and meet us downstairs as soon as possible. We gotta go, and since it’s a building fire, there might be a few injuries you can help us with.”

“Okay,” you nod, as the rest of the boys begin appearing in the hallway with navy shirts on and their firemen overalls already on. They one by one disappear down the pole and you scramble to get the paramedic bodysuit on. You pull on your boots hastily and then sprint down the stairs, and see the chief addressing everyone.

“Alright, Yoongi and half of you in car 1, and the rest of you in mine. Namjoon is already in his way from his meeting, so he’ll meet us there. Let’s go!” The boys break out into jogs as they hurriedly begin packing the hoses tightly and jumping into the cars. “Chief,” you call out, “Where can I go?”

“Go with Yoongi!” He yells, and drives off, sirens wailing. You jump into the first car and immediately you’re surprised when Yoongi, usually lethargic and slow, slams on the accelerator and your own truck bolts into life. Stumbling into a seat, you ask Hoseok, “So, this is how it always happens?”

He nods solemnly, his usual playful smile gone. “24/7. We gotta stay alert.” You nod. He points to a large, bright orange utility box in the corner of the bus. “That’s your medic kit. You can look through it now if you want, we’ll be getting to the site in a few minutes.”

You nod, perching the box on the seat next to you and digging through it. It was pretty basic, syringes, bottles of lidocaine and epinephrine for stitch jobs, synthetic thread, scalpels, bandaids, alcohol, gauze, and more. You were used to working with the minimum at the emergency room. And seemed like whoever was in charge of this box had kept it neatly and pretty well-stocked. You lock the box when the truck begins to slow, and look out the window to see the commotion.

A large building has caught on fire, and already there are two other trucks unloading at the site, their firefighters already hooking up their hoses onto the fire hydrants and assembling into position to enter the building for any remaining people. The whole area smells like smoke and through it, the glow of the orange fire against the night sky is barely visible.

Immediately as the truck parks, the boys in the vehicle spring to motion. Their uniforms are already on, helmets, gloves, and oxygen tanks and all. One by one they jog out the door of the truck and do the same, unloading the hose from the side of the firetruck and linking it easily to the fire hydrant and getting ready to spray down the building.

You pull your hair back into a ponytail and look around for anyone who might be in need of help. There’s already a few survivors out around the area in the grass, and you run over to a woman laying down.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” You say as you approach her and kneel next to her. Her husband is crying. “Sir! Is she okay? What happened?”

“P-please! We were just picking up our son and then the burning piece of wood fell on her leg. No one has been able to h-help her yet! Our son is still in that building, too!”

You unlocked your box and reassured him, “Okay, sir, I need you to calm down and help me. Someone will go find your son, but we need to help your wife right now. Do you have a phone on you? Can you use the flashlight? I need to see the area.”

He does as you instruct with shaky hands, and you carefully use the scissors in the kit to cut a strip down her pants. The burn is quite bad and covers a lot of surface area, in addition to having a huge laceration down her thigh that needs to be stitched up now, in case of infection or bleeding out. You frown, she must have been in a lot of pain.

“Ma’am, can you understand me? This is going to be a bit painful, but I need to sanitize the area.”

She’s just sobbing at this point, but you can make out some words. “Please,” she sobs, “M-my s-son!”

You lean closer, “Sorry? Your son?”

She sobs and nods, “H-he’s still inside!!” She pushes your hands away from her leg, “I won’t be treated until I find him!”

You sigh, turning around to see if there are any firefighters available. You see one coming out of the building to replace his oxygen tank. You run up to him, unable to see anything but his eyes through the protective gear he was wearing.

“Hey! Hey, this woman I’m trying to treat is refusing treatment until she sees her son, and she claims he’s still inside. Please, if she doesn’t let me treat it right now, she might have to amputate her leg.” He nods, and follows you to the couple.

When they see him approaching, the woman goes hysterical. “Please!” She screams, “He’s still in there, on the second floor. I haven’t seen anyone bring him out!”

“Okay, ma’am, I’m going to go back inside for him. You need to calm down, and let this lady treat your leg, or else it could get worse. You need to stay strong for your son.”

She nods, and turns to you. You spring into action, giving the firefighter a nod as he stands. You frown, his voice sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint it.

The lady begins wailing as the adrenaline fades and the pain of her injury begins to hit. You have her husband hold her hand as you pour some alcohol on the area and she wails as the open cut is cleaned out.

Quickly, you stitch up the wound and dress the burns so that they’re manageable. She refuses to take the ambulance to the hospital until she sees her son, so you coax her into just sitting on the gurney in the ambulance and wait for her son. You try and calm down the couple as you move onto address a few more people in the vicinity with minor cuts, scrapes, and burns.

Suddenly, you hear a commotion, and you turn to the building that’s now less of a bonfire and more of a quiet smolder, and the firefighter from earlier emerges with something in his arms.

The woman you had treated earlier immediately starts wailing and crying as the firefighter jogs over to you and her and sets a boy down onto a gurney. He’s unconscious, and the firefighter whips off his helmet as he addresses you.

“He’s breathed in quite a bit of smoke, and fell unconscious when I picked him up. He needs pediatric CPR!”

“Namjoon!” Hoseok cries out.

You gawk as you watch him yell instructions at you and the rest of the firefighters you’d met, brows furrowing and eyes widening as you recognize those slanted eyes, thick lips and angled jawline that you’d run your tongue over that one fateful night. It was Joon. He was a firefighter. His name was Namjoon.

“Y/N!” He grabs you by the shoulders, “Focus!”

You immediately spring into action, running towards the boy and checking his pulse. “Do you know how to do compressions on a pediatric patient?” You breathe, and Joon nods, throwing his helmet and his tank aside and opening the buttons on his uniform jacket before he climbs atop the gurney.

As he begins compressions, you deliver some shots on his arm and search his body for any large cuts or burns. You hook him up to an oxygen mask and turn up the machine to high. “Switch!” You call out, and your hands replace Joon’s as you climb atop him and begin compressions.

“One, two, three...” You count out, as other paramedics swarm around you to prepare him to be delivered to the hospital as soon as possible.

The boy stirs, and you stop compressing, and watches as he begins coughing, from deep within, and you help remove his oxygen mask and pull him up to a sitting position as he continues coughing the smoke and ash out of his lungs. A paramedic gives him some water and after the boy finishes coughing, you help him sip some water as he recovers.

The others help usher him onto a gurney and also help his mother and father join the ambulance.

You watch as the blaring sirens fade away and sigh as the remaining firefighters douse the building in water and put out the flames. Your knees are feeling weak, your heart up in your throat, and your breath short.

Feeling a presence standing next to you, you turn and meet eyes with him. You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a once over from his ash-stained angular face to the bulky equipment and uniform lining his body. Probably from the boots he was wearing, he seemed even taller than from the club.

He gives you a cocky grin. “So, you’re a paramedic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, stopping down to collect your materials and all the wrappers of the syringes and needles you had used to treat your patients.

“Not a paramedic, a doctor. On voluntary community service.” You huff.

He stoops down too, setting his helmet aside to help with your tools. “No wonder you’re good with your hands.”

You stop, sitting on your haunches to give him a look. He does the same, matching your cold gaze with a smirk. “I think that’s very unprofessional, Mr. Joon.”

You stand, locking the paramedic box angrily and stomp away.

But he easily catches up to you, having those damned long legs of his, and follows you to your truck. It makes you angrier that he begins unloading his equipment and uniform off into the same truck you came in.

“I think, Y/N, the moment you started making out with me at that club, professionalism was kind of thrown out the window, don’t you think? You disappear that morning without a trace, and then suddenly you appear again at my workplace. Don’t you think I have the right to be a bit confused and curious?”

“Look.” You turn to him. “That was a one-night thing. I told you that I don’t do them often, and it was a mistake and I’m sorry, I won’t do that to you again. So just--” you throw your hands into the air, frustrated that he looked so goddamn good as he took off his thick outer coat and stood in front of you with just a black t-shirt and the pants of his uniform low on his hips. “--just pretend it didn’t happen. Just forget about it.”

You turn to walk away into the truck, but he stops you. “Wait! Wait wait wait, Y/N,” he turns to face you, the smirk wiped away and now brows attractively collecting in a frown, “For the record, I don’t consider that night as a mistake.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widen as you frown up at him.

He doesn’t look away. The playfulness has dropped and he’s completely serious as his voice takes a lower tone.

“Sleeping with you wasn’t a mistake for me. Don’t apologize. I’ve only been able to think about you since then, and I don’t think that you showing up here out of all the other precincts or departments is another mistake, either. I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but I want to be clear with you that my intentions are to get to know you better, and do it the right way.”

“Do what the right way?”

“Date you,” he says simply, like he was talking about the goddamn weather.

Literally, who was this guy? Your mind was completely blank. Like, who just says exactly what they’re thinking? How could he just be so...honest? What’s his game?

You blubber out the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t date co-workers. Especially here. I’m only scheduled to volunteer for several weeks.”

He seems to gain a bit of confidence. “Y/N, that sounds more like an excuse, than it does a reason.”

You huff, blowing your hair out of the way. “Nonetheless, the answer is no.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Don’t be surprised if I ask you again.”

And he does.

Every. Single. Day.

When you wake up, “Hey, Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

“No,” you’d say, roll your eyes, and spit out your toothpaste.

When you’re in the library, reading up on the latest studies. He’ll pop his head in and say, “Oh, Y/N, dinner’s ready.”

When you look up and nod, “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

He’ll nod back, and then say, “Oh by the way, will you go on a date with me?”

You’d learned to just laugh it off or ignore him.

When you’re in the dining commons. You’ll be chatting with Taehyung about something and Namjoon will walk by, hand you a mug of coffee, and walk away without a word. When you lift the coffee up to drink it after Taehyung leaves for something, you find a slip of paper on the saucer.

Will you go on a date with me?

You crumple up the paper while maintaining eye contact and drop it into the steaming cup of coffee. Then, you stand, and pour the mug out into the trash, while he watches with an amused smirk.

The only times he doesn’t ask you out is when you’re on calls.

Over the next few weeks, you notice that Namjoon has three modes: 1) His Chief mode, 2) his off-duty mode, and 3) his flirting-with-you mode. Modes 2 and 3 tended to mix, especially when he was with you.

But whenever that light on the walls of the department begin to ring and flash, indicating an emergency call, Namjoon immediately enters his chief-mode. One time, he was in the middle of taunting you with probable bad-date ideas, the lights began flashing and you had watched as he shook himself out of his off-duty mode, and immediately started barking out orders to the group and you, responding to the dispatch on his walkie-talkie. It had happened in a millisecond.

You were in the lounge with Seokjin and Jimin, watching a movie while Yoongi dozed off in one of the couches. You had slowly begun to easily sink into this lifestyle. You guys were lucky if you got at least a few hours in between calls to relax, and since the most recent call was a small issue with some old lady’s cat up in a tree, Hoseok and Taehyung had volunteered to go on their own. It was a relaxing Thursday afternoon.

Like clockwork, right as you were almost dozing off, the lights began to flash and blare as your walkie-talkies exploded to life and the dispatch officer began reading out the issue.

The boys spring to life, immediately jumping over to the pole and going downstairs to change into their uniforms. You sigh and use the stairs to run down to the garage and get into your uniform, clambering into the truck as Namjoon begins listing out orders. It was a gas leak in a chemical factory, and they wanted the firemen to take care of it. You were only following for protocol.

“It shouldn’t be too complicated. Yoongi, did you contact the engineers to shut off the power?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah, they turned off all electricity, but they can’t turn off the gas valve. It’s stuck.”

“Okay, that’ll be the first thing to take care of. Jungkook, can you take care of that?”

You watch as the firetrucks pull in and follow the men into the warehouse. It’s completely dark but they all turn on their headlights as they treck through.

Namjoon leads them into the main gas chamber where one of the tanks is steadily leaking a stream of cold, compressed air out of it. Him and Jungkook immediately head over and begin working together to tighten the valve, while Seokjin begins looking for the pipe that leads into the tank.

You watch, boredly as the men do their thing, when suddenly, Jungkook yanks a bit too hard and both him and Namjoon are thrown back.

Jungkook immediately begins yelling out, and you scramble up in horror to see that he’d been thrown back into a piece of metal that was sticking out.

“Oh my god,” you cry out as you rush to his side. “Jungkook, hold on, I got you. Can you turn on your side so I can see the wound better?”

He moves while wincing in pain, but manages to maneuver so that the wound on his back is facing you. Using a flashlight, you make sure that the metal didn’t pierce any vital organs or arteries, and reassure him that it’s okay as you begin cleaning and stitching up the wound. After you’re finished, you look up to see Seokjin run into the room, and let you all know that he’d disassembled the valve and fixed the leak.

You sigh in relief as you cut the final thread and place some gauze over the stitches. Hoseok and Jimin had returned to help, and they throw Jungkook’s arms over their shoulders as they help him walk out of the building. You begin to pack your things, when you see Namjoon lagging behind the rest of the group, clutching his arm.

You catch up to him, “Hey, are you okay?”

He winces, but nods at you to go. “I’m fine. Catch up with the rest of them. I’ll be right behind you.”

You frown as you survey his features. The boys are now out of sight and you and Namjoon are the only ones left inside the chamber. “No, you don’t look very okay. Did you get hurt?”

He finally relents, groaning in pain as you guide him to sit down on some steps and remove his jacket. You gasp as his t-shirt comes off. Jungkook had been impaled when he hit the wall as he was thrown back, but it seemed that Namjoon had been in the direct line of contact when the valve of the pipe had blown off. It had sliced through his uniform and left quite a deep cut in his rib.

“Holy shit, Namjoon, you are not okay. Let me stitch this up right now.”

He shakes his head, “Let’s get out of here, first.”

You push him back. “If you keep moving, this wound is too close to your vital organs and it might cause infection or you might bleed out. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

He shakes his head as you begin unpacking your box of materials. For the first time in your few weeks at the department, you see a dark look of shame and regret written over his face. “I was the one who asked Jungkook to help me, if I didn’t, he wouldn’t be hurt.”

You click your tongue at him as you clean the wound, apologizing as he hisses in pain at the contact of alcohol. “You know, you say a lot of stupid shit, but that’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard you say to me. Ever.”

He laughs a little at that, wincing as it puts pressure on his side. You glare at him as you examine the wound and begin numbing the surrounding skin. “You’re a great chief, you know that. I’m administering some pretty heavy painkillers. Tell me when you start getting a bit woozy.”

He just silently watches you hover over his torso, squinting as you maneuver the hook needle and stitch him up. “I think that’s the first time you ever complimented me, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, so now your chief mode is off, I guess.”

He furrows his brows. “Chief mode?”

You nod, snipping at the threads as you begin another stitch.

“You have these modes you enter on the job. One of them is when you become this intense, no-nonsense leader, telling us all what to do and what to get done.”

He smiles, “And the other mode?”

“There’s two actually,” you say, still focused on his wound, “There’s one that’s always flirting with me, and there’s a third, where I can see that you really, really care for everyone on this team. That third one is the mode you’re in.”

“Are you maybe getting turned on by that mode, Y/N?” He winks at you, and you laugh, poking him in his side and making him groan out as you finish dressing the clean wound and help him get his uniform jacket back on. “Shut up, now your flirty mode is back on too.”

You’re cleaning up the materials in your box when suddenly, the lights come back on, bright white, and as you and Namjoon are squinting to try and reassess your surroundings, the huge gate to the chamber closes with a hissing noise and a loud clang.

“Shit,” you hear Namjoon cuss, and you scramble up, running over to the door and searching for a handle, a knob, or a button, anything to get it back open. You click your walkie-talkie, waiting for the static to sound to let you know that it’s communicating, but there’s nothing.

“No use,” he winces, zipping up his jacket, “The company probably just turned the electricity on when they saw some of the trucks leaving.”

You watch in horror as the vents surrounding you begin hissing and cold air begins drafting in. “What is this?”

“It’s a containment chamber for flammable chemicals, so I assume that it stays at a cool temperature. It’s fine, some of the boys will probably realize we’re here and be back in no time.” He lays down against the steps.

“Namjoon!” You scramble over, “Do not fall asleep, do you hear me? The temperature dropping is going to make your wound even worse. You need to stay warm, stand up if you can.”

He frowns, curling into himself with a pout. “I’m cold.”

You roll your eyes. It was the painkillers kicking in. He was getting lethargic, and it could kill him. “I know, you big fat baby, but if we don’t start warming up, we might die in here. C’mon, stand up.”

He begins moving around, although you instruct him not to stress his wound, he begins rocking around on his legs to try and make some body heat. You do the same, waving your arms around and trying to generate some heat.

At one point, you lose complete sense of time, and Namjoon wakes up from the initial wave of his painkillers to find the both of you huddled in the corner of the chamber, knees curled into your torsos as you shiver in the cold.

“Y-Y/N,” he breathes, and reality dawns on him as he sees the mist of his breath fan out from his mouth. “Y/N?”

“S-s-so cold,” you chatter, curling into him as he puts his good arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

“D-don’t fall asleep,” he breathes, and you don’t respond, the chills rocking your entire shaking body as you curl into him further.

The walkie-talkie screeches for a moment, and Namjoon grabs it, responding back to the static. “H-hello? Anyone! Y/N and I are stuck in the main chamber! Temperature is dropping quickly. Hello?!”

The only response is static as he drops the walkie-talkie to just pull you in closer. “Y/N?”

There’s no response, and when he pulls back to try and look at you, your head lulls in his arms.

“Shit,” he mutters, “Y/N, Y/N!” He shakes you, but you’re completely unconscious in his arms. "Wake up!”

“No no no no no,” he chants, as he begins undressing, his whole body resisting the motions as he shivers in the cold, but he perseveres. He pulls his uniform open, baring his chest, and then proceeds to unbutton your uniform as well, baring a t-shirt underneath. He pulls your limp body close as he removes the t-shirt and then completely drapes himself over you, pressing your bare chests together as he pulls you tight against him, skin to skin.

He pulls the uniform tighter around your back so that you don’t lose any more body heat, when he finally hears yelling and pounding on the other side of the huge gate. He hugs you closer to himself before everything goes black, too.

#namjoon fics #bts fics #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon fluff #fics #writing #mine #yay! im back!!!

947 notes · View notes

bennydwight · 3 years

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Dragon Age Oneshot

Shameless, indulgent, one-sided Varric/Inquisitor, because I understand why we’re not allowed to romance the dwarf, but that’s not gonna stop me from being bitter about it.

(Also feat. Dorian being simultaneously the best and worst wingman)

~~~~~~

"Oh dear what's got the Inquisitor so long in the face this time?"

Lavellan hid her startle well enough that Dorian didn't comment. Maker's breath, he could be stealthy when he wanted to. Observant, too, so she didn’t see much point in lying to him. "I'm in love, Dorian."

She felt more than saw his interest pique, and he slid down the stone wall to join her on the steps. Below them, the courtyard was abuzz with activity: Dennet and his apprentice busied themselves with checking the new stock of mounts, the merchants from Val Royeaux shifted primly as Fereldan soldiers examined their wares, and patients of the last battle milled around the surgeons camp. Among them, even from this height, Lavellan could see Cole's wide-brimmed hat bobbing along through the crowd of wounded like a leaf on a river, likely offering comfort to those who needed it. Varric's copper hair trailed along beside, either gathering intelligence for his next book, or ensuring Cole stayed within the confines of human morality. Nice that those two got along so well.

Far below, a soldier said something and Varric laughed, the delighted rasp floating up to reach even Lavellan's perch. Why must he do that to her.

"In love, you say?" Dorian continued next to her. "Anyone I would know?"

Lavellan sighed. "He's roguishly charming, dashingly handsome, entirely uninterested, and so far out of my league he may as well be the Black Divine."

"Dear me, have you fallen in love with me all over again? Can't say I'm not flattered, though I recall us having this conversation once before."

That drew a laugh from the depths of her lovesickness and she nudged Dorian with a shoulder. "You know the flame I hold for you in my heart will never extinguish."

"Alas, perhaps in another life." He chuckled back. "Who's the fortunate gentleman?"

"Oh please, if you think I'll out and tell you like some babbling maid chasing the butcher's son, I give you too much credit."

He leaned back, stroking his goatee with an interested finger. "Making a game out of it then? Very well, I'll play along. Ten silver says I can guess the lad in three tries."

A game was exactly what Lavellan didn’t want, but she far too much enjoyed Dorian's scowl when he lost not to play. The ten silver could buy her something interesting from the baker too, next time they travelled to Val Royeaux. "You'll be paying for my next pastry run, Vint."

"Better save at least some of that silver for larger clothing then." He made a show of tapping his chin, deep, deep in thought, the flash bastard. "Roguishly charming, daringly handsome... Just to clarify, you are talking about a lad, yes?"

"Oh, no. Making that distinction would narrow the field by far too much. If you weren't paying attention to the pronouns, that's on you."

Dorian glowered at her, but there was no real heat behind it while the gears of his mind were ticking elsewhere. "From the description alone, of course my first guess would have to be our distinguished commander? Not that I'd blame you, mind, he is quite the man."

Perhaps too much man for Lavellan, the commander was far too battle-ready for her to find attractive (though admittedly the scars did send something stirring within her). And Cullen's evasive reactions towards the advances of other members of the fairer gender betrayed a disposition more boyish than Lavellan expected. She imagined courting Cullen would be very much like courting the spirit of a farm boy in the body of a marble statue. "I flirted with him once, for fun. I was afraid he'd wet himself."

Dorian's laughter rang warm and clear through the courtyard. "That might explain why you couldn't tell him, the poor man would throw himself off the battlements."

Lavellan stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't make it sound like my affections are a disease to be feared."

"They certainly spread that way."

"You enjoy it, you all do. Maker knows none of you under my command have ever gotten enough hugs in your lifetimes."

"Something we all know you're desperately trying to correct."

"This game is timed, Dorian, if you don't use your guesses in the next ten seconds then you forfeit."

"Don't be silly, that was never agreed upon," he waved a hand flippantly, but settled again. "Sera-"

"Nope."

"That wasn't a guess, you didn't let me finish! I was going to say Sera is in league all her own, so it can't be her."

"It counts."

"It doesn’t. "

Lavellan never was very good at keeping a straight face, especially in Dorian's presence. "Fine, fine, you get one freebie."

"Then my next guess would have to be the Iron Bull."

Oh, she'd thought about it. Maybe Lavellan was just weak for big hands and a soft voice. And who could forget those muscles? But Iron Bull wasn't exactly secretive about his thoughts on relationships, thoughts Lavellan wasn't sure she could share in the long run. And maybe it would have been different if Iron Bull committed to the Inquisitor, but after an accidental (and awkward) run in with Bull and a kitchen maid, Lavellan was pretty certain she'd seen all she needed to regarding Skyhold's resident Ben-Hassarath.

Besides. She'd seen the silky way Dorian's eyes smoothed over Iron Bull's shoulders when his back was turned. There had never been two people she was less inclined to come between.

She shot Dorian a sly side-eye. "I'll leave the lovesickness to other, more suitable people when it comes to the Bull, I think."

He hid the hitch in his shoulders almost perfectly, but the pink dusting on his cheekbones was a little harder to explain away. To his credit, Dorian didn't try. "Ahem. Well, you mentioned 'uninterested', so it can't be the swooning--"

He trailed off, but Lavellan's sharp stare snapped to him, ears twitching up. "The what?"

"Nothing, a slip of the tongue."

"Your tongue is so slippery it's a wonder it doesn't slither out of your head. Now out with it, who were you talking about?"

Dorian heaved a mighty sigh, but his eyes shone in that way they did when he'd been sitting on a sweet bit of gossip for too long. "Very well, I promised Vivienne I wouldn’t say anything since you didn't need 'undue distractions', but since you insisted. One of your throne guards can't keep his eyes away from you."

This was news to her. "Wha- Are you talking about Davrish or Johannes? Or Tel, he fills in sometimes."

"The lad who usually stands at your left. Human, on the tall side, dark hair. Hard to see much under the helmet, but he's got a scar under his eye."

Davrish then. "He fancies me?"

Dorian laughed. "Like Solas fancies the Fade. He reveres you. Whenever you're in the Main Hall, he refuses to look anywhere else. He practically vibrates when you're judging someone, I imagine since he's never had a woman that close to him in his life. Have you truly not noticed?"

She truly hadn't. She'd spoken to Davrish several times around Skyhold, usually a casual bit of snark tossed around regarding the latest judgement, but never had she gotten the impression that he was interested. Perhaps since, whenever she frequented the Main Hall, her attention lingered elsewhere... "I suppose I'm usually distracted."

Dorian leaned closer, something wicked crawling into his grin like a desert lizard. "Distracted, are you?"

Lavellan huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if that could still her heart's rapid beat. "I'm the Inquisitor, Dorian, not all of us can lounge in the library all day, drinking cheap ale and commenting on whatever daily atrocity Solas is wearing."

"Oh, that reminds me, did you see the particularly awful armour he picked up during your last trip to the Oasis? I could go on for days about the state of the stitching alone-"

He definitely could, as proven time and again. Times like these, where her Tevinter friend really got on a roll, Lavellan could feign interest well enough while letting her mind wander to more introspective topics. She nodded and made appropriate noises at appropriate times to Dorian's impassioned ramblings, but once again her eyes sought the copper head weaving in and out of view of the crowd below.

As if sensing her seeking eyes, Varric pulled his attention away from Cole and stared straight at her.

Lavellan's heart stuttered to a stop. Even this far away, his eyes shone with the barely concealed mirth he always seemed to carry just under the crooked quirk of his eyebrow. The corner of his mouth pulled up in that roguish smile she loved as they made eye contact, and one hand (gloved, why always gloved) rose in a lazy wave.

Like a dunderhead, Lavellan practically tripped over herself to return the gesture, nearly catching her finger in one of the buckles of her clothes in the process. Varric didn't seem to notice, his smile widening before he turned back to his odd little charge.

Too late, Lavellan noticed Dorian had fallen silent beside her, his calculating golden eyes boring into her frozen face. She heard the dots connect.

"Oh."

Don’t make eye contact, don't make eye contact

"Oh, MAKER."

Lavellan spun on him, the tips of her ears burning under his scrutiny. "WHAT."

He stared back, expression refreshingly open for once, though it bore no malice. Only stunned disbelief. "Lavellan, the dwarf?"

Not trusting herself to speak around the dry lump lodged in her throat, Lavellan reached into her pocket and dropped ten silver into Dorian's unresponsive hand.

He stared at the coins as if in shock, though Lavellan knew him well enough by now to know when he was exaggerating emotion. Dorian and Sarcasm were old friends. "I can’t- Vishante kaffas."

"I know."

"Of all the available young matches here in Skyhold, you're wasting your time making doe-eyes at the single most ineligible person this side of the Anderfels."

"I know.”

"He's in love with a crossbow, for Maker's sake!"

"I KNOW!" Lavellan groaned, burying her head in her hands. "If you think I haven’t had this discussion with myself numerous times then you are sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Although," Dorian started in such an oddly contemplative tone that Lavellan peeked out from between her fingers. The silver was gone, tucked away while she'd been marinating in her own self-horror, and his hand returned to its previous action of thoughtfully stroking his facial hair. "He is quite the strapping one." His face took on a haughty air. "And we already knew you had a penchant towards the witty."

"Not only wit," Lavellan sighed, and now that her darkest thoughts hovered at the forefront of her tongue, she found it nigh impossible to stop them from stumbling into the light of day. "He's suave, confident in a way that still eludes Cullen. He has all the easy, rugged attractiveness of the Iron Bull with none of his-"

"Expansive tastes?" Dorian supplied, entirely unhelpfully.

"-worldliness." Lavellan corrected coolly.

"He's quite the complainer. "

"He's opinionated, and most of them are right. Varric is warmth, and friendship, and a drop of sunlight in the midst of the rainstorm that is the Breach."

"I may vomit."

"I am taking that as a challenge. He is soft eyes and soft leather, and the feeling you get right after you make someone laugh. He's quiet nights by the fireside, the smell of ink swirling in the warmed air. He is-"

"-headed this way."

Lavellan was just about to admonish Dorian for his unsportsmanlike attempt to distract her from her flowering prose (it had really started to flow there, too!), but a glance downward found Cole nowhere to be seen, and instead one copper-headed dwarf tromping up the stairs.

All thoughts of poetry dissipated. He was coming straight for them! "Oh... oh Maker-"

"Don't panic," Dorian smirked, "with a nose that large, he can probably smell your nerves."

She didn’t have the chance to smack him before Varric reached them, breath laboured in the way that often happened when short legs were presented with more than five steps. Lavellan wondered why Varric chose to spend the majority of his days in the Grand Hall when it required so many steps to get there (and she refused to let herself believe it was because he wanted to be near her, no no). "Well, you two are looking chummy."

"Varric!" Dorian opened with no shortness of theatrics, "We were just talking about you!"

"Is that right?" Lavellan heard more than saw Varric's raised eyebrow as she pinned Dorian under a glare so hot it had been known to stop enemies in their tracks.

Dorian, having evolved out of the category of "enemy" some time ago, barely noticed. "Yes, we were just discussing your romance serial, the one Cassandra enjoys so much? Are you planning on writing more?"

Lavellan’s glare had taken on a panicked note, her friend going rogue before her eyes. How hard did one have to stare at another for them to spontaneously combust?

Varric, large as his nose was, didn’t seem to smell her distress this time. He laughed. "I am if Seeker has anything to say about it! Why, you're a fan too? Learning anything interesting?"

"On the contrary, I have an idea for another serial I'm sure readers would enjoy."

Lavellan’s shoulders relaxed marginally, head tilting at a quizzical angle. What was he doing...

"I don't usually entertain book pitches, but for you Sparkler? Let's hear it."

"It's about a famous, powerful young artist, who falls in love with a roguishly charming, dashingly handsome writer-"

Aaaaand there went her shoulders again, hitched almost to her burning ears. Back safely to Varric, she frantically mouthed "I'll KILL you, you sunnuvabitch", the rest of Dorian's blatantly obvious pitch drowning under the blood pumping in her ears. His mouth quirked up in the only indication he was paying her any mind at all.

Varric made a thoughtful noise, and she didn't dare turn round to look at him. "An artist and a writer, huh? It's got potential. And no one can say it's... unrealistic." Maker's breath, was he implying something? Was that tone barely concealed subtext, or just Varric being an asshole?

And Dorian couldn't leave it at that, oh no, never let it be said that Dorian Pavus did things halfway. "And say, if you do decide to write it, I'm sure our dear inquisitor wouldn’t mind illustrating. Surely you two have known each other long enough that working closely for prolonged periods of time wouldn’t be too agonizing."

Using her body as a shield, Lavellan flipped him off.

"It's certainly something to consider," Varric hummed, none the wiser to Lavellan's mortification. Unless... he was playing with her? "I'm sure my lady readers would appreciate another romance."

Dorian stared straight into Lavellan's eyes. "They certainly would."

"What about it, Herald?" Oh Maker, he was leaning over her now. The scent of warm leather drifted over her like the sweetest perfume-- NO, that was gross! Don’t think like that! "Feel like collaborating?"

"Sure," her voice came out more like a squeak than a sound, and Dorian couldn't quite hide his snort behind his moustache.

The creak of leather as Varric leaned back. "Peachy. After we take care of this Corypheus business, of course, even I understand that we have priorities. Speaking of, I gotta ask Seeker something. Dorian."

Dorian nodded in farewell, radiating smugness. Expecting her turn to be next and realizing at the same time that she hadn't looked at Varric a single time during this conversation, Lavellan finally turned to the dwarf.

Bad idea. She turned directly into that insufferable crooked grin. His hooded eyes glittered with mischief, like he was privy to an in-joke. The sun set behind him, haloing his visage with golden light. Varric himself couldn't have written this scene better, and Lavellan hated herself for thinking it. Her ears drooped under the weakness of her own body.

Varric's grin widened marginally. "Inquisitor."

"Bye," Lavellan breathed more than said. Dorian snorted again, louder, but Varric was polite enough not to mention it. He continued up the stairs and Lavellan managed until his heavy bootsteps faded away to melt into a humiliated puddle. She slumped over her legs, burying her face in her hands.

"Dear me, Inquisitor, your ears are a most delightful shade of crimson."

"Dorian?"

"Yes?"

"Once I can stand again, I am going to take my knife and cut out your tongue."

"Oh, I'd still find ways to humiliate you."

"I wont even use my nice knife. It'll be a kitchen knife. You'll suffer for days, just like I am now."

He patted her jovially on the shoulder. "Come now, Lavellan, surely you must know that Varric is crass and boorish, but he's far from an idiot. He'll nip this in the bud within the week and I need to get a decent amount of teasing in before then."

Lavellan punched him in the arm.

END

#dragon age inquisition #da:i #varric tethras #varric #lavellan #dorian pavus #dorian #Varric/inquisitor #varriquisitor?#writing #oneshot

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tragedy-for-sale · 4 years

Text

Scrub Caps and Scalpels

Kix is my favorite baby, he's an exhausted boy from being a doctor. I like to think the medics do receive the long and hard education to be a surgeon and that comes in handy because Fives would kill him if he died.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

It wasn't often Kix performed an operation, usually the machines did, but that didn't mean he couldn't. Kix scrubbed with precise haste, a bounce in his feet, he had to scrub before he stepped into the operation room. When he did, Kix was immediately gowned and gloved, a scope placed on his head, and took a deep breath before stepping up to the sterile field.

Looking down, he saw Fives' chest, "Blunt trauma, I won't know just how much damage there is until he's open," he told himself, "Fives," Kix spoke to his sleeping brother, "You better not pull anything funny," he threatened him before turning to his scrub nurse, "Ten-blade," Kix order, his brother handed him the requested tool and made the first cut.

Kix had not operated on a lot of his brothers, most times, they were able to put on a bacta patch or a day or two in the tank and they'd be fine. But in cases like this, when the damage sustained made a soldier too unstable for a bacta fix, they had to be opened up. Now, a droid should have been doing Fives' surgery, in fact, the droid probably would do a better than Kix, and a droid would be doing the surgery, if not for Echo. Who'd screamed when Fives went flying straight into the trunk of that fallen tree, who'd ran faster than light to reach his little brother, who had to pulled away so Kix could assess the damage. Echo, who'd begged Kix, "No one touches him but you, promise me, you'll be the one to save him."

"Clamp," Kix ordered as he continued to work. His eyes flickered to the wall before looking back down, "Stars, please don't die, Echo would never forgive me," he pleaded silently. The hours started to fly by, as they often did in the O.R. Nothing mattered but the man on the table, who just so happened to be loved not just his brothers but the General. Kix's assistant had been giving updates to all the men in the lobby. Anakin Skywalker, Captain Rex, Commander Tano, ARC trooper Echo, Jesse, Hardcase, everyone. Men who were expecting Fives to live and if he were to die on Kix's table, they'd never look him in his eyes again. That was something Kix couldn't live with, they'd never understand that he'd done everything he could.

Yes, usually a droid did surgery, it was most efficient. But that didn't mean Kix, and his medical staff hadn't received an extensive medical education. He busted his ass to become a medic, more so a surgeon. Clones trained as surgeons came so scarcely, in fact, Kix's hard work was the reason he was in the 501st in the first place, to take care of the two most reckless and most cherished Jedi in the Grand Army. He'd learned a skill that usually took ten years in four. It was impossible, to hold a life in his hands and be able to save them. But Kix had. He was the doer of the impossible. Needless to say, he had a lot of stress placed upon his soldiers, and he wasn't allowed to fail. Luckily, Kix was just that good

Hours continued to fly by as Kix worked and when Fives was finally stable enough to close, Kix felt like he could fall to his feet. He wanted to pass out or throw up, or both. He had to use the bathroom, to eat, and to sleep. But he still had things to do. "Alright, let's get our boy up to the tanks, monitor his stats and let me know if they drop, keep an eye on him because if his wound opens again, that'll be bad," Kix told his brothers before heading into the scrub room. "Make it through the night, please."

To be a surgeon was a skill many medics didn't get to become, only the absolute best were able learn the art of saving lives. Kix obviously could and he just had. Kix had closed Fives' chest after a very long eight hours. Standing in the scrub room, Kix stared at his brother's unconscious body being taken to the bacta tanks. He stared into the clearing room, eyes narrowed as he scrubbed his hands. "It went perfectly, he got a little acidotic at the end, but he's fine" Kix thought of what he was about to say to the Captain and Echo, who he knows had been pacing back and forth as Kix had operated. "Fives did great, the surgery went perfectly and he's stable enough for bacta."

Drying off his hands, Kix left the operation room, his pace rather fast as he headed to the waiting room of the surgery suite. When he arrived, Rex and Echo were immediately on their feet once they saw him, "Kix, how'd it go? Is he okay?" Echo asked, studying his brother's face for a trace of anything bad. "Is Fives okay?" Echo asked again.

Kix nodded, "Yes, Fives is heading up to the bacta tanks now, the procedure went perfect, Fives will be fine." Kix assured Echo, who picked up Kix in a hug. He looked to Rex who gave him a small smile and shrug. Kix had to catch his breath after Echo put him down before saying, "In the morning, I'll check his stats and if he's stable enough, we can move him to a recovery suite, but there is a chance he'll have to stay in the tank for a while."

Rex nodded, putting his hand on Echo's shoulder. "Fives will be fine, knowing him, we'll have to force him in bed." The Captain joked, getting a sniffly chuckle from Echo. He'd be worried, to say the least. The last few hours had been hell, but now that hell was over and Fives was in the clear. Echo turned to Rex with a nod. "Okay, we'll be back in the morning, Kix, o' six hundred sharp," he stated, knowing Echo would be at his quarter's door much earlier.

Kix nodded, "Of course, Sir," taking his scrub cap off at last, he then gave one last look to Echo, "If his condition changes, you'll be the first to get commed, but until then go get some sleep," If Echo was allowed, he'd stay by Fives' side through it all, but Kix knew that wouldn't help either of them, "Don't worry, Echo," Kix smiled,

"I got him."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

|| Tag List ||

@ct7567329 @a-lil-perspective @mageofcole @advcntura @crying-at-ikea @stuckyjacos @crahsystor @obiorbenkenobi @satan-incarnate-666 @kalm421 @passionofthesith @mackstrut @flyingfreeyt @jonathananubian @kamino-mermaid

#i need more of kix being a badass surgeon #medic kix #doctor kix #im calling him that #clones #clone wars #tcw #star wars #sw #pardon the Grey's references #I've been binging that show for weeks

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tirkdi · 3 years

Note

Will you continue your stupid-amazing hospital alarkling au?

Let it never be said that just because I’ve let an ask sit for years means it won’t be fulfilled. Chapter 1 is here, this is chapter 2, and it’s still half crack, so let’s not take any of it too seriously, shall we?

Alina had just finished buttoning up her white coat when she saw Dr. Morozova striding down the hallway, his long legs devouring the linoleum at a distressing pace.

“How was your weekend?” she asked as she fell into step beside him, her own legs doing double time to keep up. He held out a stack of folders and she instinctively reached out to take them.

“My weekend was good,” she continued, having known from the beginning that she was going to have to do the conversational heavy lifting. “A friend of mine had a birthday party and my schedule actually allowed me to attend, which was a pleasant – what are these?” The files she held were all for surgeries that they’d done over the past couple months: nothing new, nothing to prepare.

They turned a sharp corner past pediatrics before her mentor replied. “We’re presenting at a conference this week.”

“We? Presenting? This week?” Alina couldn’t manage to put all her thoughts into a question and he closed his eyes briefly in disappointment.

“We’ll be giving a presentation at the annual surgical conference. I’ve already made the arrangements. Put together the PowerPoint this evening and I’ll review it in the morning.”

“PowerPoint?”

“Keynote is fine if you prefer.”

“Oh, great. Yeah. That was my question.”

She let him walk towards the office before propping the files between her hip and the wall to allow her to fish out her phone, scrolling through her list of contacts. Who might she know that makes presentations? She didn’t have a huge repertoire of people to choose from, so it really came down to probably not a costume designer, probably yes a lawyer.

do you know how to make a power point? Alina tapped out.

o m g starkov, Zoya texted back.

could you help me make one this evening? it’s important.

do you have ANY idea what I bill at?

I’ll provide pizza and wine, Alina offered.

and ice cream, Zoya countered.

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! Alina exhaled and shifted the files back into her arms. Zoya’s reply was a painting nails emoji followed by a hair flip emoji followed by a middle finger.

Perfect. She could get this done tonight.

Zoya tapped on Alina’s laptop for a minute while Alina perched nervously beside her. “You have PowerPoint installed, so that’s a good start,” the lawyer muttered. Her hair was pulled behind her ears so that her hair fell in black curls down her back, and her makeup looked as flawless as it must have first thing in the morning. Not to mention the diamonds in her ears – whatever Zoya was having, Alina wanted it.

“When is the pizza coming?” Zoya asked.

“Half an hour. Wine in the meantime?”

Zoya snorted, a you-have-to-ask response that Alina had become familiar with during their time as roommates in college. She returned with a glass of Zoya’s favorite pinot and saw that the screen of her computer was an empty white page.

“Alright,” Zoya began. “Let’s get an outline down, then we can go back and fill in what you’ll actually be saying.”

They had an outline by the time the pizza arrived. Zoya took a slice and pulled up the first slide. “You have some kind of visual you want on this?”

Alina rummaged through the file, pulled out a photo. “This is a pretty good demonstration of the issue we ran into in the surgery–”

She was interrupted by Zoya gagging to the far side of the screen. Once she had recovered, she took a long drink from her wine glass and cut a glance back to Alina, who smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I sometimes forget what it looks like to people who aren’t surgeons.”

Zoya took another drink of wine, set it down, and looked at her friend. “You owe me so much more than pizza and wine for this.”

“That’s the spirit,” Alina replied.

Alina forgot the hospital doors were automatic and nearly fell through them the next morning. She caught herself before she fell – barely – and when she looked up Dr. Morozova was standing there, watching her impassively.

Of course. Of course he would be there.

“The presentation looks good.”

Alina rubbed her face. She and a grumbling Zoya had worked on it until the early hours of the morning – she’d sent it to him not so many hours ago, in fact. “Oh. Great.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at seven.”

“Um. Tomorrow?”

He didn’t acknowledge her response. “It’s just one night, so no need to pack too much.”

“Overnight?”

He glanced at her. “It’s a couple hours from here. I’ve booked us rooms. Be ready tomorrow at seven.”

Alina watched him walk off, looked down at the floor. The linoleum didn’t seem to be any help. A two hour drive with her supervisor, an overnight stay at a conference, and a presentation? You can do this, Starkov. “Cool,” she said, once he’d walked off. “Cool, cool, cool. Cool.”

At exactly seven o’clock the next morning an impossibly nice car pulled up outside of Alina’s apartment building. She didn’t know anything about cars, but it was black, had tinted windows, and looked like it was worth more than her student debt — which was saying something.

A few moments later, the window closest to her rolled down revealing Dr. Morozova, one eyebrow raised. “Are you planning on getting in?”

“Uh.” Alina looked down at her hands, wondered if she should be wearing gloves if she was going to touch the car. But she also didn’t want to keep him waiting … Just play it cool. “Yeah,” she said. Smooth, Starkov.

The door handle didn’t disintegrate under her touch and she put her bag between her feet as she settled into the passenger side. No sooner had her seatbelt clicked than he began to drive, the ride butter-smooth beneath her. Oh, this is why people spend a crazy amount of money on cars. He shifted gears and she looked out at the tinted scenery as he lead them towards the highway.

He hadn’t said anything since she got in the car. “So,” she said, cringing even as the words left her mouth, “you go to this conference often?” At least she hadn’t asked him if he drove his own car often.

“Annually.”

Another couple minutes passed in silence. She was going to have to do all the prompting, as usual, but being alone with him in a car for two hours meant that maybe she could get to know him a little better. She cast a glance his way but his eyes were on the road ahead. “Do you have any family?” she asked.

“Everyone has a family.”

She stifled a sigh. “Siblings?”

“One.”

“Brother? Sister? Older? Younger?” He didn’t confirm any of those. “Non-binary twin?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the road. He signaled, switched lanes. “Sister. Younger.”

Alina looked at him, trying to imagine what his features would look like on a woman. She would probably be the most stunning woman in the world. Either that or scary as hell. “Are you close?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Would you like me to ask about your family?”

The blow, whether or not it was intended as such, landed hard. Alina looked out the window at the scenery, fighting the lump in her throat.

The silence turned out to be a blessing, though; with the car’s smooth handling, Alina fell asleep quickly.

“We’re here.” She jerked awake, rubbing saliva off of her face, wondering if Dr. Morozova had seen her drooling. “I checked us in remotely; your room key should have been sent to your phone. I’m room 416 and you’re 485.”

He opened the trunk and pulled out a small suitcase. Black, obviously. Alina shouldered her own overnight bag. “Go put your stuff down,” he said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

There were a lot more people at the conference than Alina had anticipated. It was possible that there were no surgeries happening anywhere across the United States and several other countries right now, because everyone who would have been performing them was in this room. It would have felt crowded in any case, but in this case in particular the attendees were all surgeons — the egos pressing together were almost suffocating.

Or maybe it was the fact that she was standing in front of all these people as Dr. Morozova gave the presentation she’d put together that made her so uncomfortable. All these people could see her. At least she didn’t have to speak.

“And this last surgery was performed by my intern, Dr. Starkov. I’ll let her explain.”

He handed her the microphone and the tiny clicker to change the slide, and Alina straight up panicked. Her palms started to sweat. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.

The audience was looking at her — patient, expectant. They believed she had something important to share. All because of the surgeon everyone here was listening to — because he believed she had something important to share.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to begin to explain the procedure. Once she started, she found she had a lot to say.

Once she started, she did great.

Twenty minutes into the happy hour, Dr. Morozova materialized at her side. “I’m going back to my room.”

“As keynote speakers tend to do when there are literal crowds of people wanting their time.” When he’d made his way over, he’d pulled a bubble of people with him, several of whom did not look like they were hoping to spend their time with him discussing surgery. “Too tired of having room keys thrown at you?”

The look he cut her reminded her of a particular type of incision that required a lot of stitches. “Nothing good happens in a room full of drunk surgeons. I advise you not to stay too long, either.”

A drink and a half later, Alina was starting to suspect he was right. “You’re Dr. Morozova’s resident?” a petite woman in heavy glasses was asking her. “Wow.”

“Lucky you,” the man next to her added.

“He’s been an incredible teacher,” Alina agreed.

“Among other things, I’m guessing.” The woman raised her eyebrows at Alina.

Alina’s mind blanked out. “What?”

“I mean … ” She looked at the man next to her who gave an encouraging nod. “All that anatomy, the long nights on call …” Her look was unmistakably suggestive and Alina finally got it.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Nope. That is not a thing that is happening.” She put down her drink. “I actually think I’m going to go now.”

“Makes sense.” The woman winked at her. “Have fun.”

“I am not sleeping with my attending.”

The man and woman looked at each other and shrugged. “If not you, I wonder who he’s with now?”

“Who he’s — he’s not —” Alina left the thought unfinished. Dr. Morozova’s sex life had never crossed her mind; sure, he was absurdly good looking, but he was her mentor. And for whatever reason, she didn’t picture him coming to a conference to sleep around.

But … did he? Were they right?

“I’m going to make this an early night,” Alina said.

“Well, ‘suture’ self,” the man replied as she walked away. He and the woman beside him both laughed hilariously.

The fourth floor hallway was quiet, and she was starting to feel a little more like herself. She passed room 416, and then she stopped. She couldn’t help herself; she walked backwards a few feet to the door and knocked.

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t answer. He must be out with one of those surgeons she’d seen him with earlier, or maybe out with a few of them. Alina was almost relieved; if he wasn’t here, if he was seeing people, then she didn’t have to make herself think about —

The door opened. “Can I help you?” Dr. Morozova asked.

Alina’s blush was fast and furious. She hoped he would assume it was from the alcohol. “Um. No. Nope!” she said. “I was just … checking?”

“Checking?”

“To see if you needed anything. Make sure you’re good to go. I was going to get some coffee.”

He leaned in closer to her and her heart sped up. What the heck? Why would it do that? It must be left over adrenaline from the speech, Alina told herself, well-aware that that was not how adrenaline worked.

“I don’t need coffee.”

“Great! Me neither.” What was happening? “Okie dokie, see you tomorrow.”

He squinted at her. “Are you alright?”

“You betcha.” She did little finger guns. This maybe she could blame on the alcohol, because even she wasn’t usually that bad. “See you later.”

She walked back to her room, and by the time she made it all the way down the hall, she’d pulled it together. She was his resident, that was it. She’d focus on learning everything from him that she could.

After a day of attending presentations, poster sessions, and eating terrible conference-center food, Alina was once again seated in the passenger seat beside her instructor, this time heading home. She was determined to not make it awkward.

“Why do you go to this conference every year?” she asked. “Just to speak?”

“Speaking is one reason.” He changed lanes. “I also come to learn.”

“You learned something at this conference?”

“I always do.” He glanced at her disbelief. “The day you stop learning is the day you die.”

“I don’t … ” Alina paused. “I mean, I haven’t been a doctor for as long as you have, but I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

“Perhaps not.”

They passed a couple towns before he spoke again. “Have you thought about who you’d like to work with next year?”

The intern program at this hospital was two years long, and each year was with a different mentor. It shocked her to realize she was over halfway through her time with Dr. Morozova. She found she desperately didn’t want it to end, and his expertise was only half of the reason.

Oh, yipes. Where had that thought come from?

She coughed to stall for time. “Ummmm … I was thinking of maybe going for more of a specialty next year. Oral surgery?”

He gave a hum that was as smooth as the road beneath the car. “You could try it. I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t.”

The thought of him thinking them similar enough that their likes would overlap was interrupted by panic at what she at first feared was a medical emergency. It took her a few minutes to realize the weird way her heart was beating wasn’t anything like that.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

The week after the conference had been a busy one at the hospital, and Alina had managed to avoid Dr. Morozova without making it obvious she was doing so. At least, she hoped it hadn’t been obvious.

There was a lot she needed to work out for herself – why did thinking of him increase the temperature of her internal organs? And, maybe more importantly: what could she do about it?

If she was interested in Dr. Morozova in any sort of romantic way — which she totally, totally, was not, because a) that would be a terrible idea and b) getting involved with a higher-ranking surgeon, let alone one who was managing her, was highly-unethical-if-not-strictly-prohibited — she would run into problem c): the odds that he would be interested in her as well.

A face like his would have plenty of people to choose from, if he ever left the hospital. Probably even if he didn’t.

Whatever. She couldn’t put off talking to him any longer. She exhaled and knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

He was bent over papers at his desk and she got to observe him as he read. The planes of his face, the set of his shoulders —

“Well?”

In her observation she had failed to notice he was looking up at her. Very cool, Alina. So cool. “Oh, um, I … had a question for you.” He kept looking at her in a way that made her want to cringe and somehow now also made her want to start taking her clothes off. She shut down that animal part of her brain and soldiered on.

She cleared her throat. “I have a shift next Tuesday, and my usual backup isn’t available. I’ve been having a hard time finding anyone who could take over if I’m in a surgery and something happens so I was wondering … if you could be … if I could put you down to be the one they call. Just backup.”

He stared at her hard for a few seconds, then slumped back in his chair. “Fine,” he said. “Make me your fill-in.”

Alina barely managed to not squeal her “thank you.” She was halfway to the door when he called after her. “Take that folder before you go.”

The folder was sitting on a shelf just at her chest level. “Study those tonight. Surgery tomorrow,” her mentor said.

She opened it and found a thick stack of case notes. She looked back at him and smiled. “They just happened to be sitting here?”

“I had a feeling you might come around,” he replied, making her wonder just how much of what was going on in her head he was able to see. She could have sworn there was something in his expression that she’d never seen before, though she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“Nice to see you again, Alina.”

#alarkling #darklina #shadow and bone trilogy #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #zoya nazyalensky #the grisha trilogy #grisha crack #I do not apologize for the terrible terrible puns #or the lack of knowledge about medical school #it's for the best really

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boneandfur · 3 years

Text

Time After Time 2/2

TWO

Note: the characters demanded smut. There is a link to the NSFW version on ao3 at that point. tumblr won’t let me load the moodboard. I’m very frustrated with this hellsite.

Women aren't doctors at the Front, Miss... what did you say your name was again? Ah, Miss Valentine. American. That explains it... But we do need good quality nurses... You'll be sent to France right away on account of your prior training... Jolly good, just sign the dotted line...

"I assume you'll have the watered wine, Rookie." Ramsay leans across the table, lightly tugging the menu from Helena's numb fingers. Every little boom makes her shiver, though she's adopted the English habit of keeping a stiff upper lip. Her grandmother has told her stories to curdle your guts, about standing on a hill at Gettysburg and watching her lover ride hell for leather into battle. And I followed him, didn't I, chick?

"What brought you here? To the Front?" Helena cocks her head at him, and Ramsay's brows raise nearly to his hairline.

"You're bold as brass.” Ramsay snaps his fingers. “I like that. Knew it as soon as you stepped out of that line of nurses that you wouldn't turn into a shrinking violet at your first amputation." Ramsay turns to their waiter, a Frenchman of elderly years with an ear trumpet. "We'll take your best watered wine for the lady, and a bottle of whiskey."

Helena coughs lightly, and addresses the waiter in seamless French. "(What is the special today?)"

The old man looks sad. "(I am afraid we do not have anything special. Just some eel ragout, and fresh bread my wife baked this morning.)"

"(Then we will take that, and your best bottle of Merlot.)"

When the owner has gone, Ramsay smiles broadly at Helena, showing white teeth against three days shadow of a beard on his jaw. "By God, you're a marvel. Never learned much French myself, besides what I've had to behind the lines."

"Oh, my governess despaired of me." Helena shrugs, but cannot help smiling in return. "I can speak enough French to get by, you know, but I could never pass for a natural."

"Well, you are an American." But it does not sound like an insult.

The eel comes, and she eats ravenously, less like a lady and more like the girl who downed seven glasses of champagne and then raced her brother from Boston to Concord on horseback.

And Ramsay drinks. Thoughtfully. Mindfully. She does not remember, afterward, nor for many years, what they said, only how she had smiled and smiled until her cheeks hurt, and the ticking of the pocket watch.

One two, one two. Tick tock. Eleven hours. Ten hours. Nine hours. Eleven minutes and eleven seconds.

No more standing to in trenches,//Only one more church parade.

"I had a patron who paid for me to go to medical school, a well respected chap named Naveen.” Ramsay nurses his whiskey, rolling the glass with purpose between his palms. “After school, I joined the army to make something of myself, and went to India. My wife deserted me for another man while I was gone. She didn't like the army life, you see."

Helena reaches out, laying her hand over his. Ramsay startles, but does not move his hand away, and instead flips it over, laying his palm flat against hers and caressing her wrist with his rough fingers. She drags in a breath, the sudden widening of his pupils making her lower abdomen flutter. "I ran away from home. No one knows I'm here, or I'd be dragged back to Boston to marry a Stirling and pop out an heir and a spare before the war has even gotten started."

"You don't even want to know about what this war will look like if it keeps going, lass." Ramsay drains his glass, and pours them both another. "I'd tell you to go back to Boston, but I can see by that look in your eye that you'll see this thing through. I respect that."

Helena does not trust herself to speak. The wine is making her thoughts slow, but she does not want this moment to end.

Ramsay rubs a hand over his jaw. "That was back in '09. I hung my boots up, moved to Scotland, and threw myself into practice in Edinburgh. Then that damn fool shot a Prince, and well, here we are."

Steady, silent. Their eyes meet and the watch ticks on. Helena feels as though she is drowning. His mouth moves and she only feels the heat of his palm against hers, her cheeks ablaze.

'Nurse! Nurse Valentine! Are you dumb or are you just deaf?! Hand me those scissors, and bring me another scalpel... These damned orderlies don't know what they're doing...'

Their eyes meet across the bloody operating table. The soldier is mercilessly unconscious, a bloody piece of shrapnel in his thigh. He'd been screaming since he came in off the ambulance, a boy of no more than nineteen, a Tommy named Elijah... 'Mum, Mum, water, water...'

'That's a Blighty, Rookie. Your first. Are you going to faint on me, lass?' Ramsay's eyes lock on Helena's. She feels the flint of his gaze go straight to her spine, and straightens up.

'No, Doctor. I'll be fine, sir.'

'I told you Americans have brass, Ramsay!' The surgeon, Lahela, winks at Helena in passing, but she does not notice. Her gaze does not falter under Ramsay's. 'Pass me the tweezers.'

His mouth quirks, just a shade. 'Good girl.'

"...Good God, Rookie, will you drink the whole bottle? I promise my company isn't as bad as all that." Helena feels Ramsay tug at her wine glass, and relinquishes it. The lamp has begun to burn low, and from the outside of the cafe is the sound of drunken laughter. "You shouldn't walk out there alone. Come on, I'll walk you back to your billet."

"I don't have one," Helena confesses. She pats her bag, shamefaced. "I spent my money for the hotel on books... I can sleep on the truck."

Ramsay shakes his head. "No, no, that won't do. We can't have you more dead on your feet than usual. I have a solution. It's a bit unorthodox. Do you trust me?"

Eight hours, three minutes, seven seconds.

•••

Helena does not know why, but the lights from the star shells, all green and gold, make her grip Ramsay's arm tighter, and press against his side. At the corner, he stops and gazes down at her, a strange and wild new thing in his face, something she dares not name.

Don't forget me, Helena Valentine. When this lousy war is over, I'll come back, you see...

"Tell me..." Ramsay brushes a curl back from her brow, his broad fingertips sending a crackle across her bare flesh. "Why did you become a doctor, Rookie -- Helena?"

"I read a wonderful book." Helena ducks her head, and looks up at Ramsay from under her lashes, illuminated by the lamplight. Behind them, to the east, she hears the screech of a Minnie, and his hands tighten on her fingers. "It was written by a Scottish doctor who had served in India, on the Northwest Frontier." Her gaze skitters away.

People said when we enlisted,//Fame and medals we would win.

"Ah. I knew a chap who served there, in his younger days." Ramsay tucks her cold hand through his elbow. The snow is falling thicker now, and they are nearly to the hotel. A quick word from Ramsay to the proprietor -- she hears the words une chambre pour les jeunes mariés -- He knows French after all --

And before she knows it, she is sitting in a delectably steaming hot hip bath, strewn with lavender and rosemary. She washes her hair and cannot remember the last time she felt such luxury.

Nine months, two days, thirteen minutes...

When this war is over, //No more soldiering for me.

"You can have the bed. I'll bunk down with Medical Officers Gayle and Nguyen, from the -nth Platoon." Ramsay stands in the doorway, his cap in his hands, avoiding looking directly at Helena in her muslin shift. "We wouldn't want you to lose your reputation and have to leave the war so soon."

"Stay." She feels her eyelids drooping, and pats the quilt next to her. "Please, stay."

"You know I can't do that." Yet, she hears the floorboards squeak as Ramsay settles next to her on a chair. The inn rattles like a whizzbang and she grasps Ramsay's hand, clutching at it until the clattering of the teacups subsides. "Only a little longer, then, Rookie. Until you're safe."

•••

Ethan watches Helena Valentine fall asleep. There is nothing he'd like more than to climb next to her in that big bed, to feel her lithe body against his. But it would be wrong, even though nothing will ever be right again after the war is over. But if he can keep her safe -- If I can keep her alive -- he dares not finish the thought.

“You wouldn't remember me, Helena Valentine, but I was the guest speaker of honor when they hung the plaque for your grandfather at the Royal Hospital, in Edinburgh.” Ethan whispers the words, barely a murmur. The whiskey has given him courage, here in a small hotel near the Ypres front.

Ypres, the Race to the Sea. Generals called it a triumph, but the only thing the war has given Ethan thus far has been insomnia for thirty-six hours, a hatred of mustard gas and a pair of fine German boots from over the top.

“He was an old surgeon, a medical man, who fought in the American Civil War, but he did great things for Scottish medicine, too, back in his youth.” Helena's fingertips tighten on his palm, and Ethan fears he has said too much. But he goes on, like a schoolboy at the confessional, for who can say when they shall ever have this moment again? And hasn't the war taught him by now to leave nothing unsaid?

“You must have been not more than twenty-one, then. You were still unmarried, with a vast inheritance that folks said you'd squandered on medical school. I knew right then and there that Jonas Valentine would have been proud of you. I wanted to introduce myself right there and then…”

But I was too tongue tied by your beauty, and couldn't find the words. Later, when I saw you again in Ypres, I couldn't believe my own eyes. I didn't want to tell you how I felt then...

(But that will keep, until this war is over.)

Her grip loosens, and he knows she is sleeping. She sighs in her slumber when his lips brush across her dainty brow, and it is with everything inside of him screaming at him to turn around that he walks away.

When I get my civvy clothes on,/Oh how happy I shall be.

•••

Forty-five minutes, thirty seconds.

The books are too heavy. Yet, Helena, an oasis of blue with a red cross on one arm in a sea of green uniforms, settles in with Sherlock Holmes. Rookie... She snaps the book shut, watching the landscape go by from the army van.

I shouldn't... We shouldn't. Ramsay cups both sides of Helena's face in his hands. The book drops to the floor. They are both damp from the bath, and his skin smells of cedar and lavender soap.

copy and paste into your tab: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957496/chapters/73743633

Later, she will remember the exact way the quilt felt as he pulled it over her shoulders, tucking her in, embers in the grate and his lips ghosting across her forehead.

•••

Twenty years on, when a new war is brewing, this is what Helena Valentine remembers:

The air, so still and warm, with not a single lark singing. The earth smells of flowers and death, and she is sharing sterilizing duty with VAD Nurse Varma, whom she'd come over from London with.

"I suppose you think you're better than me, being a real doctor and all, but..." Jackie's lips move, but Helena cannot hear what she is saying. All she can hear is a buzzing sound, a ringing in her head.

One two, one two.

Her hands tremble with fatigue over the medical instruments.

Thirteen minutes and forty-seven seconds.

Tick, tock.

The table begins to shake and she looks at Jackie, their eyes wide as they clasp hands -- and then they are running -- and the bridge is shaking, it's shaking Dr Ramsay, you shouldn't be out here, it's wartime you know --

No one can know about this, about us. You know that, right?

I know, Dr Ramsay.

He cups her chin in his hand. They say you're a grasping American chit, but you're my American chit now, and I won't hear anything against you. Oh -- and don't check your bag until you're on the truck back to the lines. I left something there for you.

Then you have this -- keep it until the war is over -- it was my grandfather's and it's over a hundred years old and it's still ticking on.

His mouth is warm on hers, tip of his tongue pressed against hers for a surprisingly electric surge.

-- "Nurse Valentine! Valentine!" --

Helena wakes in the morning with the ashes cold in the grate, Ramsay's greatcoat draped over her. It smells of peat and whiskey, and the faintest whiff of mustard gas. Her thighs are wet and she looks under the quilts and realizes her cycle has started, and she does not know why, but she begins to sob, whether from relief or terror she knows not.

One two, one two.

(Twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty four seconds.)

Tick, tock.

People said when we enlisted,/Fame and medals we would win,/But the fame is in the guardroom,/And those medals made of tin.

#ethan x mc #open heart #open heart fanfic #oph #rafael x mc #n*fwish

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