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howdoesagrapewrites · 4 years ago

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All yours, Babooshka.

Tags: Yelena x fem!reader, soulmate!au, fluff with a bit of angts, historically completely incorrect, happy ending.

TW: depiction of war, brief mention of sex, homophobic slur a few times, suicide.

Synopsis: War is no place for loving, it never was, but maybe you could love her again in the 21 Century, i mean, only if you could stop feeling so overwhelmed by her only existence, but no matter what, you can't stop something that's meant to be.

Notes: one, i don't like the part 4, it just feels lazy to me, and two, i'm not a native, so please tell me if i made a mistake <3

Part one: When she was beautiful.

Yelena Armanovna, as strong as ten soldiers, the jewel of the battlefield, once was just a kid, her land was destroyed by the war, and as the only child of the house, she was forced to join the army, or else die there, she became a soldier, and she desired that the war wasn't real, that she hadn't being born into this world, that no one had.

Everyone knew that she didn't talk a lot, most of their fellow soldiers didn't even knew where she came from, or if she was even from Russia, the only one she talked to was a nurse, her name was y/n y/ln, and like Yelena, no one knew about her origin, the nurse was way more talkative than Yelena, but she was assigned to other areas, staying with older soldiers, child soldiers, or severely injured soldiers, she was called by the child soldiers "angel", because of her comforting aura in hard times like those.

These women wouldn't be able to meet eachother if it wasn't for the near-death experience Yelena faced one time. She got shot by a hidden enemy, fainted from the blood loss and was taken to the nursery right away, they couldn't afford to lose her. That's when you saw the look in her eyes, that look, and you knew that death was upon the jewel of the battlefield, and you knew that if she died, everyone else will die, you tried as hard as you could to stay cool during the surgery, but you were breaking, because of all the hope that was layed on her shoulders, she was the hope of everyone else in that place to return home someday, even if Russia didn't won the war, her strenght will keep a few alive. So there you were, assisting the surgery of the one that could do something to keep everybody safe and triying to act like it didn't meant a thing. At the end, she survived, and with her, the dreams of returning to your home, you were the one assigned to take care of her, and you were going to make sure Yelena survived.

Part two: Uncanny how she remind her of her little lady.

—"¿Yelena Armanovna?" You asked to the blonde girl laying on the bed.

"Yes" she answered without taking her deep eyes out of the book.

You told her that it was your bed she was in, pointing at your last name on the post-it next to the bed, then showing her the same mark on the bed across the room where it said: "J. Armanovna".

"Ah, i hate when they misspeal it, it's Yelena with a "Y". Well, sorry, but this is the only bed i can sleep in, i'm kinda tall, you can use mine, i will give you a cookie for your kindness." She concluded with a little smile, you notices how her voice was way sweeter than you could think considering how menacing her looks were.

At the end you decided to let her keep the bed, thinking it wouldn't mean anything, how wrong you were, now you could look at her sleeping without moving from the bed, and you did it, you thought it was so creepy and you wanted to stop, but you couldn't, why? Why were you obsessed with the sight of her closed eyes and dry lips at night? Why did she gave you this insane feeling of comfort and loss at the same time? It was so uncanny.

No matter how weird It felt, you couldn't escape from Yelena, she was your roommate, and your classmate in some of your classes, on top of that, she was quite nice, a very smart lady with a pleasent personality, so you had no excuse to be mean or distant whenever she asked about your day, or started a small talk when the professor was late. Along with that sort-of friendship, you also knew Yelena's group; a beautiful girl with raven hair named Pieck, a blonde sarcastic man named Zeke, sometimes his brother Eren, and Hanji, a very excentric and funny person. These people were good friends to you, more than you expected, and that confirmed you: there was nothing wrong about Yelena, and you had no reason to be disturbed by her… Well, to be honest, there it was a little thing that made you upset, Pieck said that Yelena liked Zeke, again, you had no reason to be mad, but you were anyway. Why did you felt so attached to this lady? Why did you did what you did?

It was 2:00 am, you couldn't sleep and you were so ashamed of being doing what that thing, what thing? Writing a love letter, a love letter to Yelena, with a pseudonym, with the first word that popped into your head: "Babooshka". You put perfume on the paper, and you signed it under that name, a scented letter, when you were finished, you let the envelope under your bed, and let it on Yelena's locker.

Part three: How she was before the tears.

She woke up, feeling dazed and almost disappointed for being alive, when Yelena saw you, she recognized you for the stories of her colleagues, "Angel?" She guessed.

"Hello", you smiled and giggle a bit for that nickname, "My name is y/n y/ln, and i will take care of you until you are better"

"If i'm with you means i'm already dead, you only take care of the ones that are almost there." Yelena asserted with a careless attitude.

You wanted to protest, but it was meaningless, you wouldn't make her upset in her state, "May i ask how is your wound feeling? Are you in pain?" You kept that polite and sweet smile on your face.

You kept taking care of Yelena, she healed way too soon, her body wanted to stay alive, but you couldn't say the same thing about her. You got to meet the real jewel of the battlefield, she told you her story, and you told her yours, you two knew everything about eachother, likes, dislikes, and sad pasts. You noticed how Yelena cried softly whenever she thought about her life before, her life before the tears, before the war, when she felt happy. And you also noticed that you could erase that tears, the touch between your soft hands and her ser face, was something magical, something that nobody could understand in that moment, but you two? You knew everything about it, about that love touch, those secret beautiful instants you shared.

You were the one crying when Yelena got better, you were joyful for her recovery, but you knew that she had to go, and after that, you were going to lose her forever, or so you thought. "We can send eachother letters, and we can meet at night." She reassured you while you were laying on her chest, skin to skin, she kissed your forehead and caressed your cheeks with her strong and graceful hands, you purred at her cuddled your body in hers, you liked to kiss her scars, she had so many, it showed how determined she was on the battle and you liked that, the eyes and body of a soldier, and the heart of a suave lover, Yelena was always elegant, her movements could been rough and beastily, but she was soft and neat, whether i'll be fighting, talking, or embracing you. You could say with pride that only you knew this side of Yelena Armanovna, the subtle dominance she always established on her manner mixed with the chivalry and dulcet, that made the blonde woman truly enticing and amusing to anyone with enough luck to discover it.

You knew that your letters to Yelena couldn't be too suspicious, so you took advantage of the fact that no one knew a thing about her, "Babooshka", was the pseudonym you choose, because everyone was going to think that it was from Yelena's grandmother.

Your first letter to her, was this one:

"My dearest Yelena, even though i promised that i wouldn't miss you too much, you have been away for three days and i'm already feeling the lack of your touch, and missing your dark eyes that make me shiver every time. I always thought that i would die without having loved, but you prove me wrong, i love you, i love every part of you, if i could picture perfection, it would be you, your laugh, your hair, the way you talk about home, everything about you would fit the word "perfect".

I swear to God and every star on the sky, that someday i will marry you, someday i will call you my wife, and you will be fully mine, and i will be fully yours. I know that you may think i'm silly because of this wish, but i know in my guts that i will become your wife, no matter how many years or Centuries i have to wait to do it.

All yours, Babooshka."

When Yelena read the letter, she felt nothing but joy, she couldn't use words to describe how in love she was with everyone of your words, and giggled at the idea of marriage, of course she would marry you, she would marry you all the times that she could, she will make you hers every time, and she would submit herself to you every time.

The two lovers kept sending and receiving love letters, and meeting at the comfort and hacen of the night, with only starts and the moon herself as a witness, sharing the intimacy of loving, not always touching two bodies, but the touch of two souls, two tormented souls who found love in a hopeless place.

It has been almost a year since the letters and secret meetings started to happen, Yelena and y/n couldn't be more in love, but tragedy was upon them. A soldier named Floch, started to notice the letters, and one day, he intercepted one, the love words were obviously not from Yelena's grandmother, and with fear of the jewel of the battlefield getting courted by a man who could get her pregnant and useless, this soldier tried to trace the letters, he spend days getting up triying to catch the mailman, and when he did it, he noticed that there wasn't an adress, so it must have been another soldier. After waiting for the guilty one to put the letter on the mail box, he saw y/n y/ln, the nurse, the angel, being a witness of how Satán corrupted the two women into a sapphic relationship, he ran into his superior's arms, showing him the evidence and warning him that given the nature of the letters, he may be grossed out by the devil's pervertion in the two women.

The superior gave orders of keeping Armanovna here, and taking the nurse away, into a convertion field.

Yelena was lucky to hear it, and she ran the fastest that she could into the critical patients nursery, where Y/N was. "Babooshka", she whispered at your ear while grabbing your arm yo take you away, you followed her into the woods. "What happened?" You asked with confution, you saw the look of pure fear un Yelena's eyes.

"They are going to tear us apart, they are are going to take you away, they will torture you there", she was ay the edge of crying, and so did you.

"What can we do?" You couldn't think anything, you were all feelings

"Die, that's our only option, if we run away they will find anyway." The tall one tried to stay calm, failing

"You can't die, you mean hope for everyone!" Your conscience was heavy, you couldn't let Yelena die for you

"Y/n… You are the love of my life, if they take you away, i will kill myself anyway, i can't live without you, i can't just survive anymore, i need to live, when i'm with you i'm alive." Yelena wrapped you in a hug and you felt the tears falling on her face.

At the end, you agreed, Yelena already had a little bottle hidden in her uniform, you both took sips until the bottle was empty, and you kissed and felt eachother like never before, because it was the last time, those were your last hours of life. You passed away after two hours, you were sleeping in Yelena's arms, while she was singing a lullaby from her hometown.

She started with a cracked voice; "I know i do not have silver or gold like many others,

but i promise that i will wrap my bride in silk" she stopped to cry a little.

"and i will love her with such depht,

that all my lacks she will forget,

and she will love until the end… "

Yelena cried louder, and before falling asleep, and looked at your corpse with adoration.

I'm all yours, Babooshka.

Part four: Babooshka

She woke up, ready for the exams, dressed with her usual suit, and put a lucky charm on her pocket.

She was getting to class when she remembered, "my lucky pen is in my locker", so she went to get it, and saw a letter that fell sloppylly on her perfectly organized locker. She looked at the envelope and read "Babooshka", It clearly wasn't from her grandmother, one, because she would have written in "the tongue of mother Russia", two, because she was a bitter old woman that didn't write her, never, not even on her birthday, and three, because it was on her locker, not the mailbox. She opened it go find a love letter that has essence of a known perfume, she received the letter with a strange delight, smelling it and making a place on her locker for the piece of paper.

These letters came one by one every week, and she knew they were from y/n, but Yelena couldn't help to love the letters, and she wanted to keep collecting more and more.

She decided to shoot her shot after two months, when you two were studying together, she kissed your lips out of nowhere, leaving you completely confused and flustered.

"I- i thought you liked Zeke…"

"Oh, i did" Yelena acted so shamelessly "But then you came."

"Do you say that a lot?" You asked annoying trying to shield from your notorious blush

"No, just you, Babooshka. I don't know why, but you make me fee… alive? I feel so close to you since i saw you."

You didn't know what to do, you felt the same way, and you were way too nervous to think a witty reprise.

"Why did you choose the pseudonym Babooshka?" Yelena have been wanting to ask you for a long time.

"For real? I don't know, it just, familiar? I guess"

"Ok, then" she smiled and pulled you closer

"I'm all yours, Babooshka."

#yelena headcanons #yelena #yelena aot #yelena x reader #yelena snk #yelena supremacy #yelena fanfic #aot fanfiction #babooshka #Babooshka songfic

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lavandernova · 4 years ago

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We’re all a little bit crazy (1)

We’re all a little bit crazy

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Therapist! Midoryia x Paitent! reader x Patient! bakugou x patient! todoroki x patient! shinsou

Chapt 1 TW: mentions of abuse, suicide and self harm (just mentions no actual veiws)

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A/N: Hiii! I’ve been working on this for a while and I really hope you guys enjoy it! any feedback is appreciated, I tried to do as much reaserch as I could for this so if anything is worded wrong please be kind and let me know! Much love! Anyways,, enjoy!

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UA was a well-known mental asylum in japan. It was known as a last resort for the lost souls that had no hope in ever making back into society. It was where they kept the people who had nowhere to go because nobody else could handle them.

UA held some of the most dangerous and scary patients. The lady who ran the place, well known as Momo Yayorozou, had a horrible reputation for being mean and running the place horribly. Izuku noticed that as soon as he walked into the giant building.

The walls were breaking and rotting. The floors were creaky and groaned under Izukus weight. The whole first floor smelled like mush and it made his stomach lurch. He kept his head down as he slowly made his way to the front desk.

“H hi, I I’m-“Izuku was cut off as the bright pink cheeked girl at the front desk started speaking.

“Oh! You must be Izuku Midoryia, right? The new therapist for the fifth floor?” she gave a soft smile grabbing a medium sized stack of papers. Seemingly files.

Izuku was taken aback. Why was she so cheery and bright? She worked at an asylum, shouldn’t she be angry? Grumpy? He didn’t dwell on it for too long seeing as he was nervous for his first day and had other things to worry about. He made a vow in the car that he would make his patients feel loved and safe.

“U-uh yes ma’am that’s me.” He stutters

“Alright I’m Ochako Uraraka! If you’ll follow me I can get us to the fifth floor yeah?” She walked out from behind the desk and held out the stack of papers.

Izuku nodded and took the files from her hands “Please. That’d be great, thank you.” Izuku looked down and flipped the first page of the folder and sure enough sitting on top was a picture of a man with half red and half white hair, a plain sad look on his face and a list of information.

F I L E 1 (Patient Name) Shoto Todoroki

(Date admitted) 21-8-14

(Patient age) 23

(Patient disorder) crippling anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, trust issues, insomnia, hallucinations and irritability

(History/cause) Father (Enji?) was emotionally, physically and verbally abusive. Sent Todoroki’s mother to a physiatrist ward a few years before he was due to her unstable mind (also caused by enji?) she had a mental breakdown and poured boiling water on his face resulting in a scar over his right eye. His older brother (Touya?) had committed suicide only a month before he was admitted to the asylum. His older sister (Fyumi?) tried to take care of him but the more she tried the worse his father’s beatings got. His older brother (Natsuo?) has been absent since his mother was put in a ward.

(Has patient...) -attempted suicide? -attempted homicide? -attempted any act of self-harm? -attempted violence on past employees? -attempted escape?

(Other) Patient is extremely easy to manipulate and believes that his brother is still alive and thinks he stays in the room with him. Will throw a tantrum if you say otherwise and don’t greet his brother (Touya?) every time you come in. He narrates, asks and gives responses for his brother. If you gain his trust he’ll get attached. Don’t let him get attached, he will do ANYTHING to keep you with him. If he starts showing signs. RUN

(Danger level) 6/10

Izuku shuddered. He felt horrible for the poor boy. Both parents were so horrible to him. And he lost all of his siblings. He had followed Uraraka up to Todoroki’s room which was guarded by a metal door which had some severe dents made into it. It also had a hand scanner and a passcode. Uraraka smiled at Izuku's look of shock and confusion.

“Alright, You can just place your hand over the scanner. I know Mrs. Yayorozou already had you do the hand recognition evaluation. Your passcode should be the same one you used to enter the building. Here is your timer.” She pulled a small device from her pocket. “You have 20 minutes with each patient today. Normally you’d have 60 minutes with each but since you’re just introducing yourself I see no need to be there any longer. And I know you read the file. So please just be careful.”

Izuku nodded thoughtfully. He placed his hand over the scanner and input his passcode. The big heavy metal door unlocked to reveal a slightly smaller and less protected door. Izuku took a deep breath, started his timer and walked in.

chapter 2

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A/N: again- I know this is short but it’s just a tester page,, feedback is appreciated SO are ideas and theories

#midoriya headcanons #bakugou #asylum/au #tester

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xmint-conditionx · 4 years ago

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《the emperor’s dagger》 ch1 | myg

❦ pairing: emperor!yoongi x concubine!reader ❦ w/c: 4.5k ❦ summary: you recall the first night that you began to love your emperor more than your job required. you find yourself in a dangerous situation that surely means death if mistakes are made. being careful is your first priority, but it’s easy to forget where and who you are when you lock eyes with him. ❦ tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, the tiniest bit of fluff you ever saw, brief blood/gore descriptions, derogatory names but not in the way you think, fingering, slight begging, slight nibbling, “be quiet or people could hear” trope, a little adorable aftercare yoongi is here uwu ❦ a/n: guys get fuckin PUMPED okay. i am so so so excited to bring you this crazy story. as far as i have planned, there are 15 chapters. this has (kind of obviously) been in the works since daechwita dropped, so i’m sure you won’t have any trouble picturing our lovely king. this is a complete fantasy setting, so please do know that i am not trying to emulate any particular culture or time period.

also, please note that this is a repost of my work from a previous blog, so if it looks familiar to you, that’s probably why lmao

anyway, thanks luv, enjoy!

- minty

Blood stains your blade, glistening bright crimson in the hot sun. You’re surrounded by anguish, pain, the sounds of final breaths and final cries. The dead soldier that lies on the dirty brick in front of you, who had been alive and trying to claim your life only moments before is staring lifelessly into the middle distance. You fight the urge to close his eyes; you two could have been friends, after all. You probably have even crossed paths before. A shudder runs through you at the thought. How many of these men that will meet their end at your sword will you have known? How many of your people will have to die? Are they still even your people? You don’t want to know the answer to these questions.

What had he called you? What had he said before his sword clashed with yours?

That’s right.

“Whore.”

You never anticipated being in this situation. You had never wanted to have to fight; you only had wanted to look as beautiful as he had wielding a sword. Fighting was always something that was necessary for your people, but it was never something you would have to be doing yourself. You’d heard palace guards talking about some distant battle and thought it might be a fun adventure-- going off to war. You were wrong. You were naive. About a lot of things, it turns out.

That was a different time, when your only adventure came in the form of a secret romance. When the riskiest thing you did was love an emperor. Your emperor. Your Yoongi.

Where is he?

You look back to where you had last seen him on the battlefield. His long blonde hair shines like gold in the midday sun, only rivaling the sheen of his trusted blade. He cuts down his opponent with a decisive swing, the sick squelching sound of innards falling onto the hot stone as the man cries out. You watch as he expertly scans his surroundings, looking for anyone else that would dare challenge his skill in the chaos. He’s missing an earring, you realize. Both of you are heaving under the stress of battle. This is more than you’d ever prepared for. You don’t know if you’ll make it.

Your hesitant eyes meet his assured ones, and for an instant, sword in hand, it’s like the first night you’d snuck up to meet him in his chambers.

The dark wooden floorboards of the upper palace creaks, and you scold yourself for not being more quiet. Being caught will at the least result in a very long and extensive round of questioning by the royal guard. Trouble is the last thing you want to stir up.

Emperor Min had specifically requested you come to his private room in secret tonight, and that is a little strange to you. He has the power to have any of his women whenever he wishes, and he has asked for you to come to him under the cloak of night. Why must this time be a secret? He has had you many times before, so why must this time be hidden?

In his handwritten note that he had slipped to you earlier in the day, he instructs for you to wait until all the other concubines are asleep before you leave your wing. If you are careful, you can take a shortcut through the North Wing Tearoom and pass the guards who only patrol the center hallway. So that’s what you do.

You see that they’re far enough down the corridor that they won’t be able to detect your movements, and so you silently slip through the large ornate wooden doors. You’ve been in this room many times before, but it feels like your first time here. Everything looks so different without the familiar warm glow of lantern light. The moon’s shadows are cold and sharply cast, and a chill runs up your spine. You don’t have to even look to feel his presence. To feel his eyes on you.

He’s waiting for you, sitting at the bottom edge of his large, low bed, chin perched delicately on his folded hands. The cool metal of his many rings shine in the moonlight, and past those adorned hands, he is staring right at you. His stare is one that is unreadable to most. Nobody is ever really able to know what is going on in his head. Nobody could ever know what emotion lies behind the stare. You wonder how much time he spends in thought.

“Come,” he says, motioning in his direction.

You obey your king, stepping forward a few paces. Something on his bed catches and glints in the moonlight. A sword? You stop, only halfway to him. You could already be in trouble. If he had heard your conversation with another concubine a few days ago, heavy questioning by the easily fooled palace guards will be the least of your worries. They won’t ask questions before they kill you.

“Your Majesty,” you say to the ground, too demure to look him in the eye as you speak, fearing what he might say and do, “why have you invited me here like this?”

Emperor Min stands and almost silently completes the distance over to where you stand. His calloused palm gently grazes your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone as his fingers wind through your hair. His touch calms your racing heart, and fills your belly with strength and boldness. You finally find the courage to look up.

“I have a surprise for you, my dove,” the emperor says, and you think you see a hint of excitement in his dark brown eyes.

He quickly spins around and guides you over to where he had been sitting moments before. He picks up the hilt of the sword that was laying next to him and places it delicately into your palm, enclosing his hand around yours. You had expected him to pick up the sword, but to put it in your hands? Impossible.

“I heard you say you wanted to learn to sword fight,” he says, smiling gently down at you.

Your mouth drops; your worst fear has been realized. He had heard your hushed conversation. Surely, you were about to die. Maybe if you groveled and flattered him enough, he would spare you.

“Your Grace, it was only a passing comment. I was only in awe of how skillfully you were practicing out in the gardens. I did not mean for anyone to hear; I was simply awe-struck by your deftness. I do not truly wish to learn. It was a foolish slip of the tongue. Please, forgive me.”

Please, don’t kill me.

“My dear, are you worried about your life?” he asks.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I am,” you say, looking to the floor again. Hoping to pull out any sympathy he may have.

“I do not want you to lose your life. I want you to learn how to properly wield a sword,” he says so quietly it’s almost silent-- as if he’s afraid to even say it himself, “if that is what you want. And I would like to be the one to teach you.”

Women aren’t supposed to learn anything related to warfare, especially not something as dangerous as sword fighting. A single mistake could mean the loss of a limb, but being discovered in practice could mean the loss of a life. Even teaching was punishable by death, although you’re sure the Emperor himself would be able to keep his life intact if discovered. If anyone else had heard your words to another concubine, even if you were able to convince them it was an innocent mistake, you would likely be thrown out of the palace immediately.

Concubines don’t snitch on the little things, but if any of them had reported you sneaking out tonight, your head would surely be on the chopping block first thing in the morning. You’re all allowed so much. You live in luxury, you’re able to roam most of the palace grounds as you please, you’re dressed in some of the finest fabrics, given plenty to eat, gifted spending money, and on top of it all, you get to lay with the king. Anyone fortunate enough to be chosen for this position doesn’t do anything to risk it.

The emperor must sense your unease, because he puts his hand on your shoulder and gives it a light squeeze.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he says quietly.

What has to be hours later, you flop down on his bed; your labored breaths are the only thing that can be heard in the broad expanse of his room. You haven’t even crossed blades with him, and you’re exhausted. He only taught you how to hold it properly, how to angle a strike, and how to move, but your body pounds with soreness. Your arms and your legs are heavy with fatigue, and the cool plush comforter is a welcome sensation to your aching body. As you lay, you look up to the ornate ceiling trimmed with gold and you begin to settle your breathing. You lay the sword down between you and the side of the bed; at the beginning of your lesson it felt light as a feather, but as you were instructed to keep it up, it now feels as if it were made of lead.

He delicately sits down by your side, barely disturbing the fabric; you lock eyes with him and have to hold back a laugh. For some reason, you feel silly. You have never truly imagined that you would be in this place or situation. A woman? Sword fighting? Not just a woman, but a concubine? And with the king himself? If you had been told as a young girl that this would happen, you’d laugh so hard that you’d wet yourself. It was simply impossible! Or so you had thought.

You and many other concubines had watched Emperor Min practice his sword fighting out in the royal gardens countless times, and all of you were consumed with the grace and proficiency he could demonstrate. You were the only one, however, who ever wanted to be down there with him, taking part in the mysterious dance he was so fond of. You were the only one who had dared to speak your hidden desires, and it seems that you lucked out. You certainly served a gracious emperor.

His eyes turn into crescent moons as he beams down at you, showing off his gummy smile. You wonder why he rarely displays it; he’s always so serious when he’s in the public eye. The only other time you’ve seen as much as a smirk is when he bests his opponents in practice, his pretty lips curling into a snarl as he holds them at the point of his blade. You’ve only seen him smile when doing what he loves.

The way you look lying on his sheets, your heaving chest covered in little more than your underclothing and moonlight. Your hair spilling out in shining pools around your delicate face, which is flushed from exertion. The way you look up at him with pure bliss in your eyes. Perhaps he smiles because he likes what he sees, He licks his lips as he lets his hand wander across your decollete, which has collected a thin layer of sweat.

“I hope you haven’t tired yourself out completely,” he says, leaning in closer to you, so close that you can smell his naturally musky scent, “You’re a quick learner. You are quite good with your hands, my dear.” You flush further at his words, deep with insinuation. You would be lying if you weren’t thinking of other activities you could be doing with him, too.

“I am good at a lot of things, My King,” you return, tone laced with venom as you look up at him through heavy lashes. The chemistry between you both had always been electric. What one would put down, the other would pick up. Flirty banter was as easy for you two as breathing. Innate. Inherent. Natural. As if you were born to do it.

His hand travels down your chest and curls around your waist, giving your lax form a gentle tug upwards, so that your lips can meet his. He had only begun to kiss you recently, and as far as you can tell from the stories from the other concubines, you were the only one. You aren’t sure exactly what that means, but you also aren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or question why you’re the only one who gets to kiss the Emperor. The way he kisses you is nearly indescribable. He always starts off delicately, as if to test the waters, or as if to tease you. You haven’t decided which one it is yet, so you relish in how his lips play with yours. But you want more.

You push yourself upwards and deepen the kiss, and he responds in kind, sucking in your bottom lip to coax you into opening up for him. He has never been pushy; he has never pressured you - or any other that you knew of - into doing something you didn’t want. He has always been respectful of you and the others, which is the last thing you had expected. After all, you are just a glorified whore. And he is a king.

You part your lips and allow his tongue to dance with yours, each silently fighting for dominance. You let him win, and he takes the opportunity to climb over your frame. Noticing the sword by your side, he tosses it onto the floor. It hits the rug with a soft thud, as it has done many times that night when you had dropped it. He continues to deepen the kiss, and you can feel yourself beginning to get damp. Feeling that familiar tingling sensation run up your spine, you feel the need to reach under his silk robe and run your hands up his chest, which sends him moaning into you. He involuntarily pushes his hips against you, and you can feel how hard he is behind his night robe. It’s not like him to take his time, like this. Usually, he would have already put you in his desired position and… well, gotten on with it already. He might need some inspiration. You break the kiss by tilting your head up, and he begins kissing down your exposed neck, and fuck does that feel good.

“Your Majesty,” you whine, fist full of his soft blonde hair, “How would you like me tonight?”

He speaks in between kisses.

“What… ever could you… mean?” he says warmly against your neck.

“Would you like me on my stomach tonight? I know you’re fond of the view,” you say, playfully wiggling your hips. He pauses for a beat, and pulls back to look at you. He chuckles a little.

“I’m quite fond of this view, too,” he says, showing off his gummy smile again and leaning in to cup your breasts as he trails kisses down into your cleavage. He begins to nibble softly at your flesh as he pulls the fabric down, exposing your nipples to the night. He pinches one roughly, making you pull on his hair a little harder, both of you having to stifle a moan. How dangerous to be doing this at the risk of guards hearing! His hand wanders down your frame and then up into your underskirts, cupping your heat gently as you open your legs for him.

His fingers graze against your clit, and you feel the cool metal of his rings slide against your damp folds as he teases your entrance. You bite your lip and hold back a moan. You wish you could just tell him to hurry.

As if answering a prayer, he slides his finger into your waiting slit, coaxing more of your wetness out of you. He adds another finger, curling them up gently and pushing up against that spongy spot that drives you wild. You buck up your hips in response, and you feel him smirk into your chest. He continues to gently bite around your areolas, never quite reaching your peaks as he sets an agonizingly slow pace with his fingers. The sensations that spark through your body at his ministrations are dizzying, but they’re also incredibly frustrating. He’s keeping you just on the edge of satisfaction. What does he want you to do? Beg? You’ve never felt like you could do such a thing, but this evening has made you bold. And his touch has turned you needy.

“Your Grace, pl-please,” you plead quietly into the night.

He looks up to your face scrunched in desperation. “Oh, are you suggesting your king hurry?” he asks with a smirk, “What if he wishes to take his time?”

“Hi-His Highness may have me any way he wishes, of course,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to distract you from the torture, “But are the tales of your generosity false? Are you a merciless ruler, set to torture those who would only want to bring you pleasure?”

His eyes on you darken, and he pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek.

“Hm,” he considers, “I suppose I can afford to be kind tonight. After all, you’ve worked so hard already, haven’t you?”

He wastes no time in pulling his fingers out, and you clench at the loss, another groan almost leaving your lips before you’re able to swallow it. He lines his head up with your aching slit, using your wetness to coat his cock. The delicious friction against your clit makes you whine ever so gently into the space between you both, another small beg for him to fill you. He presses into you, the familiar stretch making you dizzy with lust, and buries himself in your neck once more. He quickly sets a brisk pace knowing that you both are eager, and it’s not long until you can hear how wet he makes you. The obscene wet slaps sound like bombs going off in the quiet, and your cunt drips with your slick. You briefly wonder who is the unfortunate servant who will have to clean these bed linens, because you always leave them completely ruined. The way he fucks into you makes you fall apart every time, fitting together like a lock and key.

The king’s lips find yours again, his kisses hungry and wild. You remove your hands from his hair that’s now cascading around you, falling in golden waves onto your shoulders. He’s more ferocious now, biting your bottom lip and then nibbling up your jaw where he sucks your bejeweled lobe between his lips. His hands grasp tightly around your jaw as you take him, every thrust making you more putty in his hands. His free hand curves around and cups your ass, hoisting you up and changing the angle of your hips. With every thrust, his tip grazes against your sweet spot, causing a loud moan to escape your lips, echoing in the large space. Your moan dies as soon as you register it; you shamefully tighten your mouth so that no more noise may escape, but it’s too late. You’ve already been too loud. He looks back towards his bedroom doors, and then back to you.

Something in his expression changes, and his eyes are churning with something devilish. He swiftly covers your mouth with his palm, making sure it’s firmly fastened there before speaking.

“Scream for me, little dove.”

You try to hold back as best as you can, but a particularly hard thrust breaks your resolve. Once you let out that little yelp, it opens the floodgates. Your voice is muffled by his hand as he fucks into you harder and harder, almost painfully. His tip is pounding against your cervix, and dark spots flash in your vision. You continue to lose yourself in him, eagerly meeting his thrusts with ones of your own. His other hand that was once cupping your ass, now finds your wrist and hoists it above your head, as he continues his unrelenting pace. You scream into his hand, and clench around him to bring you right up to the edge.

He leans down to your freshly-nibbled ear, and in a gravelly voice says, “Come. Come around my cock.”

As soon as his hand lets go of your wrist and makes contact with your sensitive clit, you come undone. You scream completely unhinged into his palm which is placed firmly over your mouth, and he too groans as he finishes inside of you, riding through both orgasms until you’re both exhausted. And you thought you were tired before. His heavy breaths meet yours, and you float back down from your high to find yourself resting on his comforter. He gives your jaw a final nibble, and hoists himself off of you.

You hear his soft footsteps padding on the floor as you look up at the ceiling again. The beautiful gold trim you had noted before is a large dragon, spiraled around an inset in the ceiling. He brings back a damp cloth for you to clean yourself with, and he gathers your night clothes from the floor where you had discarded them some time ago. Sword fighting in a dress is not easy, and besides, you look much better in your undergarments. He starts putting your sleepwear back on you, gingerly helping your arms through the holes. He doesn’t have to be doing this. He has never helped you get dressed before; that was a task left to each woman on their own. They had a separate and luxurious bath suite dedicated to their self-care, so why would he bother?. Sometimes the concubine mother would help if things got… interesting, but you scarcely needed help with this. Tonight was surely a night of firsts.

“Uh, thank you, Your Majesty. You didn’t have to help me dress after you finish,” you say, a little flushed from how delicately he treats you after how thoroughly he had just fucked you.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, hoisting you up off the bed and leading you towards his doors, “We can’t have you cleaning yourself in your wing’s washroom. You’d probably be dripping all the way back. We can’t have that now, can we?” he asks as he runs his hand down your arm, smirking lightly and raising his eyebrows, “Especially if you’d like to have another lesson.”

You gasp.

“Another? Your Highness, are you certain? Why do you risk getting caught doing this for me?” you ask, not concerned with your own safety, but of his. Even if his life isn’t at risk, the public humiliation that would surround him would be too great. Especially not now. Not in the middle of a war. The subjects of the kingdom are already on edge as it is. The trust in their Emperor cannot falter. Not now.

“Ah, come now. Don’t worry. As long as you stay light on your feet and I ensure that the worst guards in the command are at my post, we are as safe as my blade is sharp. Plus,” he adds, kissing gently against your fingers, “getting to see your beautiful skin glisten with sweat, and then getting to have you all to myself is reward enough for me. It’s definitely worth the risk.”

“My King, you can always have me all to yourself in whatever way you desire,” you say, “There’s no limit to what I can do for you. You know that.”

“Yes, dove,” he says, “I do know that, but there is one thing your king is not allowed. Something that nobody may know of. Your king is not allowed a favorite.”

You know this already. It is why the concubines exist, why you’re able to be here with him at all. You know that it is dangerous to have a favorite. Emperors in your kingdom are unable to wed, and it has always been that way. Spouses are a vulnerability, something an enemy can easily exploit. The concubines exist, like the guard, to protect the emperor in their own way. By allowing him freedom of sexual expression, he is less likely to feel the need to have a romantic partner. Having a person be treasured by the emperor only makes them a weakness. Especially now.

“Nobody can know that you are important to me. Nobody can know that it is you who holds the king’s favor; that is why we must meet mostly in secret going in forward. You’ll be removed from the palace if the officials get a notion of my fondness for you,” he says, holding both of your hands in his, “and I never want you to be missing from me, my dove.”

You understand. You have to. It’s part of the job. You knew all of this going in and you were okay knowing that you would be one of many. You didn’t come to the palace with only the clothes on your back to find a chance at love. You’re smarter than that. You’d be lying if you said being treasured by the king didn’t light a small fire inside of you, though.

You nod and give his beautiful, calloused hands a squeeze.

“I cannot keep you any longer,” he whispers, “you deserve your beauty sleep, especially after all the… exertion you’ve just done. You think you can keep quiet on your way back?”

“I think I can manage, but,” you say, “if I may be so bold, next time, I don’t want to be able to sneak back to my room. I don’t want to be able to even walk after the next time you’re done with me.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he says, hiding a soft smile, “but even then, I would welcome it if it came from you.”

You think of the risk you’re both taking, and the consequences of being found out.

“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that, yeah?” you delicately ask, eyes asking a question you’re afraid to give voice to.

“My dove,” he says, “as long as I can help it, no harm will ever come to you. Now, get on to bed.”

You didn’t want to leave, but you know you needed to. The emperor opens the door a crack and nods at you, a silent confirmation that the guards were at the other end of the hall. A silent nod that said it was time.

You ease yourself through the small crack in the door and slowly pad toward your Northern Tearoom shortcut. You look back once more, and you see him mouth “goodnight” with a smirk before shutting the door.

Your return trip to your wing of the palace is much quieter than your first trip, and for that you are thankful. You sneak back into your room where the rest of the concubines lie fast asleep in their own beds, some of them quietly snoring. As you curl up into your bedsheets, you drift asleep thinking about how sweet his smile is. He never shows it to anyone, so why are you the one who gets to see it? After all, you’re just a whore. The emperor’s favorite whore.

#yoongi smut #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #yoongi x you #min yoongi #emperor!yoongi #concubine!reader #bts smut #xmint-conditionx #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi series #series #repost from my old blog

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yuyupowers · 4 years ago

Text

aristocrat!yunho

aristocrat!yunho x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

trigger warning(s): description of an anxiety attack, brief description of death, memory loss. let me know if there’s anything else!

author’s note: i swear this wasn’t supposed to be this long sdkjflds

none of the pictures are mine!

for reference, i’m using british peerage (hierarchy). there are five ranks: baron, viscount, earl (count), marquess, and duke - the highest being duke, and the lowest, baron.

eldest son of a duke

okay, so

among nobility, the jeon family are well respect but considered to be a bit,,,eccentric

they adhere to all the social expectations expected amongst nobles, but their attitude towards non-nobility is what sets them apart

though most noble families are polite when interacting with non-nobility, they generally try to keep their distance; avoid their company, if possible

not the jeong’s

it wasn’t unusual to see duchess jeong knitting in her tea room with maids, merchant’s wives, or whoever else wanted to come

to see gunho running around with his friends, a pack of street urchins, low, and middle class children

to see yunho in the market helping one of the many older couples haul their cart into place

his family had managed to find the delicate balance of being “normal” enough not to suffer social ostracization, yet “odd” enough for people to dismiss their “peculiar actions” as “typical jeong behaviour”

now, onto the loml yunho

perfect gentleman pt. 2

extremely charming and a great conversationalist

no matter how awkward or shy the other party may be, yunho has this way to draw them out of their shell

(just ask mingi)

excels physical and hands-on activities (i.e. hunting, horseback riding, swordsmanship, etc,,,)

average in terms of book smarts

so while wasn’t about to lead the next technological revolution, he wasn’t “stupid” either

rather, i’d argue that yunho’s brilliant in non-traditional ways

his quick wit and ability to think on his feet is part of his charm

but his greatest strengths are his observational skills and emotional intelligence

able to discern people’s emotional state easily and quickly

he’s someone who’s kind, bright, and genuinely cares about other people’s problems (sometimes a little too much)

a natural leader - people tend to flock towards him

between him and mingi (who despite not acting like it, is extremely book smart), they’ve got all bases covered

(+ yunho’s willingness in using unconventional methods to gather information)

that’s actually how he met you

or rather, “found” seems more appropriate

see, he has an excellent rapport with the street children

being six foot one and offering shoulder rides does wonders

and because he wants to stay updated on what problems the people around him are dealing with, he gets the children to “report” to him if they find or hear anything unusual

(the children are more than eager to play spy, especially when there’s candy involved)

one day while taking a stroll, one of his kids ran up to him totally out of breath

he wheezed something about a “mysterious lady” before grabbing yunho’s hand and dragging leading him to an alley quite far away

to say he was surprised was an understatement

most of the time, his kids brought amusing but mostly useless information to him

(even if he is more than content listening about the cute squirrel they fed earlier that day)

usually they didn’t lead him to an unconscious woman lying in the middle of an empty alley

(yes, that’s you)

hurrying to your side, he drops down and checks to see if you’re alive

other than being unconscious and getting some dirt in your hair and on your clothes, you seemed to be okay

gingerly scooping you into his arms, he tells the little boy to fetch the doctor and bring him to the jeong manor

fast forward a couple hours and you’re roused from your unconscious state by the sharp smell of ammonia mixed with lavender

blearily, you rub your eyes and blink once, twice, before your vision finally clears

then panic

you don’t recognize where you are or the two faces that hover by your bedside

sensing your anxiety, yunho smiles warmly speaks in a soothing tone

“hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re in a safe place. my name’s yunho and this is dr. adley. i found you unconscious in an alley.”

and though you’re very confused and still mildly unnerved, you can tell this yunho guy is genuine

“,,,okay.”

so you settle into the (extremely comfortable) four poster bed and let the doctor examine you

except now it’s time for panic pt.2, but ten times worse because why the hell can’t you remember anything?!

you can’t even remember your own g*d damned name !!

to make things worse, there doesn’t seem to be a reason why you can’t remember anything

no bumps or injuries anywhere on your body

and chances of a robbery gone wrong, a kidnapping, or a failed assassination attempt were very unlikely since you were dressed in commoner’s clothes

disquieted by your alarm and the doctor’s confusion, yunho slips out of the room and returns after several minutes

the doctor, offering apologies to both you and yunho, says he has no idea what’s wrong or what could’ve happened to you

all he can suggest is to rest and hope that your memories eventually come back to you

your burry your face into your hands, a whirlwind of frustration, confusion, and fear brewing in you

apparently nobody, including yourself:

knows who you are,

where you came from,

why you were unconscious,

and why you lost your memories

to top it off, you have no money

…

just when you were about to idk,,,scream and/or punch something-

you feel two large hands engulfing yours, lowering them from your face

taking a seat on the edge of bed, yunho offers a faint smile as he idly traces lines from your wrists to your fingertips

a surprisingly soothing gesture

“,,,i know you’re overwhelmed right now, but please don’t feel as if you have to do this on your own. i talked to my mum and dad; you can stay here until either someone finds you or your memories return. in the meantime, we’ll help you out as much as we can, yeah?”

and though you’re in no position to argue, your first instinct is to decline because though you’re amnesiatic, you still have common sense

what kind of family, wealthy or not (actually, especially wealthy), lets a complete stranger stay in their house?

do these people have no sense of danger?

but yunho is as stubborn as he is kind, and this was how you ended up staying with the jeong’s

(you insist on working to earn your stay, much to yunho’s dismay. in his head, unless it helped in recovering their memories or, unfortunately, was necessary for survival, who would make an amnesiac work?)

the first couple of days were awkward

duke and duchess jeong had briefed everyone in the manor about your situation, but when making casual conversation, lapses in memory and uncomfortable silences were inevitable

“oh, i adore this purple! hey, what’s your favourite colour?”

“,,,i uh,,, don’t know.”

“,,,i’m so sorry-”

but awkward has never a problem for yunho, and you quickly grew fond of the gentle giant

“since we don’t know your name, can i call you little sun? since i found you on a sunny day and you’re little-”

“yunho, not everyone can be six feet tall”

“six one, actually”

“,,,”

true to his word, he does his best to help you recover your memories

roped mingi into helping

when you finished your tasks for the day, he’d bring you to all sorts of places, trying all sorts of things

on a hunting trip with yungi, you discovered that: a) you’re proficient in horseback riding, b) you have astounding aim, and c) you’re surprisingly agile

yunho, who’s always been penchant towards athleticism, was delighted to have someone to compete with

mingi just grumbled. sure he was clumsy, but how did someone with no memory beat him?

while helping the gardener, you found out that you have a rather extensive knowledge of flora

yunho jokingly (kinda) suggested that maybe you were a huntress

mingi bombarded you with questions and quizzes about plants

find out what kind of plant you are by decorating your dream room

hoping that you’d run into someone or somewhere familiar, yunho would take on walks all over the city

during your walks, you learned that you preferred nighttime (while he preferred the day), that you found solace in being alone (while he preferred company), that you liked sweet things (while he preferred chips)

a month,

two,

six months passed liked this

you made progress, but you couldn’t stop the bitterness from bubbling in your chest; negativity spreading through your veins like toxin

sure, you consider your favourite colour to be a precious memory in its own right

but who cares about what your favourite colour is when you can’t remember your own name?

you were vexed by the fact that, at this point, you know more about yunho than yourself

even if learning about him made your heart flutter

just a little

and the nightmares

the nightmares

they drove you crazy

you never remembered what you’d dream of, but every night, without fail, you’d wake with tear stained cheeks and sweat soaked clothes

tonight was particularly bad

normally, when you woke, you’d force yourself to take several deep, calming breaths until your breathing evened, grab a glass of water, then crawl back to bed

today, you couldn’t breathe

no matter what or how hard you tried, your heart wouldn’t stop pummeling against your ribcage;

your blood wouldn’t stop rushing between your ears, creating a cacophony no one else could hear;

wave after wave of nausea would slam into your gut

your vision’s blurring

oh god

you’re gonna pass out

you’re gonna pass out and forget the memories you worked so hard to remember and all the memories you made and you’re gonna forget yunho and mingi and-

suddenly, much like the first day, two large hands engulf your own, idly tracing lines from your wrist to your fingertips

“little sun, it’s me, yunho. your yunho. focus on my hands and voice, yeah? i’m right here.”

he continues to murmur sweet nothings until finally, finally, your heart settles back in your chest, your breathing levels, and your vision clears enough to see yunho

your yunho

and in this state, one look at his kind eyes is enough for the tears you’ve been holding in all this time to spill over

because though you cry in your sleep, you never let yourself cry when you’re awake

too focused on chores, too focused on remembering, too focused on trying to get some semblance of control over this uncontrollable situation

without a word, he pulls you into his chest and runs his fingers through your sweaty hair, offering the sound of his heartbeat to anchor you back to this four poster bed when you were ready

but g*d, does it break his heart to see you cry

he expected to hear you wail, to take the brunt of your fists as you pound his chest

but he hears nothing

instead, he feels your tears soak his shirt, feels how you tremble in his arms

and that is so much worse.

it takes long minute for you to stop crying, and another for you to feel composed enough to detach yourself from yunho’s (now soggy) chest

you’re sure you look awful

puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks, and a runny nose

(and you feel embarrassed that yunho witnessed your breakdown)

but he thumbs away the remaining tears from your cheeks and murmurs that he’ll be right back, returning with tissues and a glass of water

and a new shirt

he hands you the glass of water, tosses your used tissues in the garbage, and climbs underneath your (technically his) covers, patting the space beside him

when you too find refuge in the warm blankets, he pulls you back into his chest

his arm acts as your pillow as he kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair

“wanna talk about it?”

it takes you several moments, but you eventually tell him about the negativity seeping into every inch of skin

the nightmares you never recall keeping you up at night

the irrational feeling of stupidity because you can’t remember who you are

yunho silently, attentively listens to you as you spill your heart

and if he hadn’t pulled you so close, you might’ve seen the weariness in his usually carefree features

the conflict and hollowness brewing in his normally inviting eyes

but by the time you finished talking and pulled back, the expression was gone and the familiar smile you adored so much was back in place

“tomorrow, let’s go to the place where i found you.”

a faint smile bloomed on your lips because though this wasn’t the first time you visited, it was a reminder that you weren’t alone

that no matter how the chances dwindled, yunho would remind you that it was never zero

it was hope that got you through the night

the two of you have never done anything that could be considered anything but platonic

much to mingi’s irritation

but just for tonight, yunho decides to be a little greedy

he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids, you wrists, your palms, your knuckles, your fingers

anywhere he can reach,

except for your lips

you’re emotionally exhausted and vulnerable; he’d feel like a dick if he forced a decision - especially an emotionally fraught one - onto you right now

he threads your fingers together, murmuring soft promises: you’ll remember who you were, you’ll be okay, you’ll find your way again

and you finally let the exhaustion, the steady rhythm of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the warmth and comfort that is yunho lull you to sleep

the next morning is a cold one

gusts of wind bite into your skin as you curl in on yourself, trying to preserve any remaining shred of body heat

noticing this, yunho tucks you under his arm with a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks that were definitely red because of the cold and not because he was flustered

cute

a peaceful silence falls between you two as he leads you to the alley

and since it was early, the only sounds that accompanied you was the quiet patter of your footsteps and the chirps of birds reluctant to travel south

feeling like it simultaneously took too long and not long enough, the two of you arrive

an odd smile settles on yunho’s lips

,,,was that bitterness?

“,,,here we are.”

interrupting your train of thought, he takes your hand and leads you to where he found you

g*d

you could feel it

somewhere in the back of your mind, something almost tangible was shoving its way forward

you’re so close, just a little more and-

suddenly, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran down your spine

before you could understand what you were feeling, yunho shoved you behind him and parried the dagger aimed for his chest

a gruff looking man only a little shorter than he stood before him

his clothes tattered and dirty, skin littered with scars, hair and beard scraggly and matted, he looked like one of the many men that inhabited the slums

but those men were sagging skin and bones, never knowing where or if they would get a next meal

this man was muscular

and judging by the familiarity of his actions, this clearly wasn’t his first assassination

the two men, unable to disengage, snarl as they continue to press into each other

much to your surprise, when you were about to jump into the fray, the assassin screams at you

“YOU ‘UCKING WHORE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! KILL HIM!”

big mistake

because not only is yunho clever and athletic, he’s one lucky bastard

in the brief second the assassin’s attention was diverted, yunho ducks

his weight and moment carries him forward, and he stumbles,,,right onto yunho’s blade.

yanking both his blood soaked short sword and body away from the assassin, the man crumples to the ground

but until life is drained from his eyes, he bores holes into your head, message clear: kill him

a deafening silence weighs down upon you when the man stops breathing

even the wind stills

yunho stands there, a far away look in his eyes as he grips the short sword

blood is splattered all over his hands, across his cheek

it trickles from the hilt, down the blade, and eventually drips onto the ground beneath him

snow begins to drift from the gray skies, landing on his hair, his cheeks, his eyelashes, his coat

as if trying to comfort him

as if trying to wash the blood away

and you?

you couldn’t move.

not when the floodgates had opened and a torrent of memories threatened to pull you under

you knew who you were

you were yn, born to a peasant mother who died at birth and a father that abandoned you soon after

a ghost of a person, and unknown assassin raised by an unnamed noble who resented the jeong’s for their wealth, their nobility, and their favour with the royal family despite their peculiar attitude

nothing but a tool

a tool told that if successful, he’d grant you wealth and freedom

but that if you failed, he’d kill you himself

…

the assassin wasn’t after yunho, he was after you

a warning to finish the job, or else

…

you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking

and yunho,

your gentle giant, yunho

envelops your hands in his, idly tracing lines from your wrist to your fingertips

there’s no comfort this time.

not when he drew lines of blood across the back of your hand, not when you searched and couldn’t read anything expect for this sad smile on his ordinarily open features

“,,,do you remember?”

“,,,”

“,,,you knew.”

he did.

his suspicions appeared early on, spurred by your unusually good marksmanship, agility, and uncanny knowledge of plants

specifically poisonous ones

he turned to this “unconventional” ways of gathering information

starting off with his kids,

then some trusted tclose contacts

but when nothing - and he meant a questionable amount of nothing - turned up, he left the legal sphere and delved in the underground; the black markets

yunho has people who owe him favours - people who’s debts he’s paid off, who’s fights he’s fought on their behalf

it took a few months, but eventually he got the information he wanted

marquess yoo who openly showed his distaste for the jeong family “released his pet into the wild”

but the jeong’s were not stupid, and they were loved

when yunho’s father confided to some close acquaintances about the predicament they were facing, they took matters into their own hands

they never meant to hurt you

only to capture you and talk you out of killing, bribing you with money, protection - threats, if necessary - if you testified against marquess yoo

but somewhere along the way, things got messy

it ended with an unconscious girl lying in the middle of an abandoned alley; three grown men running away because oh dear lord, she’s dead; and a child leading yunho straight to you

letting go of your hands, yunho goes to kneel beside the man he just killed

closing his eyes, he mutters a prayer for the (not so) poor soul who unknowingly got himself tangled in this mess, and grabs the dagger

it feels like someone doused you in ice as yunho walks back to you

horror morphs on your face as he gently - why was he always so gentle? - wraps your fingers around the hilt and places the blade against his neck

the smile that you love so much but currently hate rests on his lips as he cups the side of your face with his free hand

his thumb idly brushes against your cheek, eyes twinkling with adoration as he drinks in every last detail of your face as if,,,

as if,,,

he’s ready to die

“no one knows we left this morning and no one knows we’re here; not even mingi. if you kill me, you’ll have enough time to collect some of your reward and run away.”

by now your hands were shaking so much that if yunho didn’t have his hand wrapped around yours, you would’ve dropped the blade

but as the snow floats down and lands in your hair, in his eye lashes, in the fog of your shared breaths, in the space between you,

here to witness a great tragedy

you both knew,

that one of you has to die.

#ateez yunho #yunho #jeong yunho #ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez headcanons #aristocrat!ateez

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yoditorian · 4 years ago

Text

close to what

frankie morales/reader

as part of @din-damn-djarin‘s birthday song challenge, i picked dancing under red skies by dermot kennedy. it’s a favourite song of mine, i think it’s beautiful, and i felt like it fit this idea i’ve had swirling around for a little bit. this fic is extremely personal to me but it’s also not pretty. i don’t want to romanticise addiction or use it as a plot device, so PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

the support group and hospital drop-off box is drawn directly from my own experience. my inbox and ask box are always open if you need to talk, but i am by no means a professional. if you are struggling with themes of this fic a quick internet search should help you find resources local to you 💛

main masterlist

word count: 3.2k // warnings: addiction, PTSD, nightmares (inc. death mentions), recovery and relapse, therapy mentions, hospital mention, references to past substance abuse, implied reader is in addiction recovery, swears probably, ‘they’ as a pronoun in reference to the reader

Your ringtone is obnoxiously loud in the darkness of your bedroom but at least that means you don’t have to worry about where it is, reaching out blindly towards your nightstand where it blares by your head.

“You’re from the group thing, right? He’s mentioned you a few times.”

You don’t recognise the voice on the other end, maybe you should have checked who it was before answering. You pull the phone away from your ear for a second and glance at the time first, 4:03am. No call at four in the morning can involve good news. But it’s the name on the screen that has you wide awake in a split second: Frankie.

“Is he okay?” You ask, putting whoever it is on speaker while you fumble for the lamp on your bedside table. An old sweater hangs over your bedpost, the logo of a sports team you’ve never heard of cracked and faded beyond recognition, and you tug it over your head in a panic.

“I don’t know, he’s locked himself in the bathroom. I just- he won’t come out. He won’t listen to me, he always listens to me.”

There’s a stifled something and a quiet knock. But no sound from Frankie, just the shaking sigh of the man you’re speaking to. He tells you his name quietly, Santiago, and you remember Frankie mentioning his oldest friend. An image pops up in your mind as you wrestle your jeans on, a fuzzy picture on Frankie’s phone screen, passed to you over the sticky table in a diner, of two men standing knee-deep in a river. Soaked to the bone but grinning ear to ear. Pope’s got him, if no one else has. That’s what he told you.

You stay on the phone with Santiago on the drive over, convincing yourself it's out of concern for him instead of the anxiety churning in your stomach. Frankie still makes no sound in the bathroom, the door stays locked, and you try not to think too hard before you have all the facts.

The Santiago that meets you at Frankie’s front door is a far cry from the man in the photograph. He looks exhausted, on the verge of tears. You’re pretty sure you’re not faring much better.

“Last door,” He breathes, “Down the hall.”

You follow his instructions, finding the only closed door in the hallway and tapping lightly on the painted wood. Listening for a moment, you can just barely hear a shuddering breath. That’s better than nothing, at least it means he’s alive.

“Frankie?” You try, praying that he’ll relent when he realises it’s you. Santiago stands at the other end of the hall, wringing his hands together, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder as he whispers frantically into it. He barely catches himself from crashing to his knees when the bathroom door clicks softly.

“Can I come in?” You have to ask him. All this has to be on his terms, he has to set the boundaries. Anything less than that is dangerous, you won’t risk him hurting himself.

He says nothing, but the door pulls back just a fraction of an inch and that’s all the confirmation you need. You push the door open enough to slip inside and shut it softly behind you again.

Frankie’s sitting on the floor, his back against the bathtub and legs stretched out in front of him. A quick look over proves he’s not hurt, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief if it weren’t for the little ziplock bag between his knees.

He’s very pointedly not looking at it, or you, instead choosing to glare at a spot on the ceiling. You maneuver yourself to sit opposite him, against the wall with your knees tucked up against your chest.

“Did you take any?” It almost feels wrong to break the silence that’s settled over the two of you.

You wait with bated breath until he gives the slightest shake of his head. He hasn’t touched it. Okay, that’s the worst case scenario eliminated. It’s enough to have your heart rate calm a little, it doesn’t make things better by a long shot, but at least it’s something.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You ask, picking at a loose thread of your sweatshirt.

His chin falls to his chest and he pulls his knees up towards him and you’re sure this is it. This is where you lose him. But Frankie takes a deep breath. And then another. And then, he musters the courage to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t see pity, not like he thought he would. You don’t look disappointed or upset or angry, the way he was so sure you would be. You’re just waiting, letting him take the reins, he stores the knowledge away. In case he ever needs to dig you out.

“I don’t know what happened,” God, his throat is scratchy, “I just- I had a bad night. And I called Pope, and then-”

He breaks off with a heart-wrenching crack in his voice and you can’t help but reach out to him. Just a hand, stretched across the space between you. He holds onto you like his life depends on it.

“And I remembered I kept a bag on top of the medicine cabinet. And now you’re here.”

It’s to the point, simple, methodical. Like he’s back in the army and giving a flight report to his CO. You wonder if that’s what he needs right now, maybe spelling things out is better for him than asking what it is you can do. It’s easier, sometimes, when someone just tells you what’s going to happen.

“Do you want to take it?” You have to know, for his safety if nothing else. You need him to tell you if there’s going to be a problem, if there’s a risk and he needs more than you. He knows you’re not going to walk out the door and give up on him if he says yes.

It has to be his choice.

Frankie shakes his head again, a grimace on his face like he feels sick at the thought, and you squeeze his fingers between yours. You need him to understand that he hasn’t failed, that he won’t fail. Tripping up and falling behind are part of the process, and you know he knows that. He’s been going to the support group longer than you have. Recovery is messy and far from simple. He’ll get back to where he was, one bad night isn’t going to ruin him.

Your lower back aches from the hardwood floor but you show no sign of discomfort, waiting until Frankie is completely back in his own head before you make any move to suggest where to go from here.

“There’s a drop-off box at the hospital, you fancy a drive?” You keep his hand in yours, terrified that he’ll slip back if you let go.

God, he hates this. He hates that he can’t even look at you for more than a few seconds without his resolve threatening to crack. He hates that you’re not angry at him for any of it, not even a little bit. He deserves anger, he deserves your disappointment.

You were never supposed to see him like this, that much he’s sure of. Or, he convinced himself of at least. He’s been going to group and therapy and he’s kept up his tests and he’s stayed far away from anything that might even tempt him a little. And that was before you even showed up. Standing awkwardly in the doorway with a nervous smile and eyes the size of dinner plates. But he’d been by your side in a flash, asking you to give him a hand setting up chairs, and that was it.

Frankie knows the ins and outs of recovery, you don’t need to tell him that he hasn’t failed. But he can’t help feeling like maybe he never really started in the first place, leaving that one bag out of sight. Life had been busy enough to preoccupy him, between everything else he kind of just forgot about it. He let it gather dust and it should have stayed that way.

And then, it felt like he was falling out of the sky. And he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Nightmares aren’t an unusual thing for him, or for any former soldier, but the memories they stem from seem to warp into something else entirely when he’s too tired to pay attention. Sometimes he’s alone in the helicopter, sometimes he’s with family, sometimes strangers. It was his team tonight. A vivid memory of a time he almost couldn’t save them.

The crash never happened, he knows that. He’d righted the bird and got his team to safety the way he knew he could. But that knowledge doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, from drowning him in fear when he imagines what might have happened had he not done his job. If they’d crashed in the middle of nowhere. Would any of them have died on impact? Would they have been left stranded, wounded and starving? He’s woken up in a cold sweat too many times, each ending more horrific than the last.

Tonight had been the last straw. And Frankie had found himself in his bathroom, patting along the top of the medicine cabinet, before he could even realise what he was doing.

He’d called Santiago, still blinking back images of his best friend’s bloody and lifeless face, just to hear his voice initially. But he hadn’t managed to explain anything past the sob lodged in his throat, and he’d heard the jingle of car keys before he could tell Pope he didn’t need to drive all the way across town at two o’clock in the morning.

At least nobody had called Will, because that would have meant that Benny would have shown up too. Maybe even Tom would have dragged his ass out of bed. Frankie didn’t need to disappoint all his friends in one night.

Santiago is bound by friendship, best and oldest, he’d never say anything if Frankie didn’t want him to. And you, you’re bound by- well, you’re not really bound by anything. You could get up off of his bathroom floor right now and never look back. Get to your feet, and walk right out of his life. But you won’t.

He knows you won’t because you’re still holding tight to his hand, even though the angle and distance has you leaned forward awkwardly. You’re still looking at him like you believe in him, even though he almost threw everything he’s worked so hard for down the drain. You’re here, despite everything. Despite only knowing him for a couple of months, despite getting a call from a stranger at four in the morning, despite everything he’s done to be undeserving of anything good or kind in his life.

You’re here, still, looking at him like he can do anything. That’s something. That’s enough for him.

“I don’t even want to look at it.” Frankie croaks, and keeps his eyes steady on yours even as his voice wavers. To anybody else, he might sound unsure. But you hear that steely determination underneath it all, the same one that’s convinced you to keep moving any time you’ve faltered.

“That’s okay, I can take it.” You waste no time in snapping the little bag up in your free hand, and stuffing it in your back pocket. A phone rings in the hall, hurriedly answered, and you suddenly remember the other man waiting outside.

Frankie’s still looking at you, dark eyes unsteady and unsure, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him. He comes back to you, slowly, and takes a few shaky breaths.

“Do you want him to come with, or?” You leave the question open. His choice, entirely, the way everything tonight has been. He lost control for a moment and fought, tooth and nail, to get it back. You can’t take any decision about this away from him.

He shakes his head, loosens his grip on your hand, and asks you to give him a minute. It hurts, leaving him alone on his bathroom floor. But he’ll come out, you’re certain of that much.

“Is-” Santiago cuts himself off when you emerge and pull the door just shy of closed behind you, like he’s afraid to even ask the question. Let alone know the answer.

“He’ll be okay. We’re taking his last stash to the drop-off box.”

Santiago’s whole body sags in relief, and you can’t help but lean against the wall for support yourself. The little ziplock bag in your back pocket is a weight you don’t think you’ll ever stop carrying, even after it’s disposed of, but you’re more than happy to bear it when Frankie steps out of the bathroom and Santiago tugs him into a hug that almost breaks his ribs.

It’s easy to forget, when you get that low, that you have people. But they’ll always show up when you call.

You leave them to their moment and shuffle back through to the main room, your car keys and phone left on the kitchen counter where you’d abandoned them. You’re not sure why you bother checking your messages, maybe it’s to keep your hands busy, maybe it’s so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on Frankie and his oldest friend. They speak in hushed tones as your thumbnail scratches back and forth across a crack in your screen protector.

“I’m sorry.” Frankie’s voice is rough, muffled into the other man’s shoulder.

“Don’t be,” Pope squeezes him just a little tighter before pulling back far enough to look him in the eye, “Be sorry you didn’t tell me they were so pretty.”

It should feel odd, the way that he speaks as though the last few hours haven’t even happened. How a simple, harmless joke is all it takes for Frankie’s heart to settle. Pope doesn’t hate him, couldn’t hate him,

“Didn’t I?” A shy, shaky smile settles on his features as Santiago stifles a yawn, “Crash here tonight, you’re not driving anywhere on no sleep.”

Ever the caretaker, even in the wake of his worst moments. It’s a hard habit to break after all they’ve been through. Something tells Frankie, even as Pope relents and walks through to the living room to find a blanket and settle on the couch, he’ll still be awake once they get back.

You’re quiet when he follows you out of his apartment, quiet as your footsteps echo in the stairwell, quiet when you cross the street to your car and unlock the doors. Part of him still worries that you’re disappointed, that you’re angry or upset or that he’s fucked up so bad that you’ve already decided to drop him home without a word and he’ll never hear from you again.

But another look at you out of the corner of his eye as you plug your seatbelt in disproves any other theory he might have. You’re quiet because you know that he doesn’t need you to talk, that he just needs you right here beside him so he can be brave enough to take the next step.

The radio is playing some acoustic, folky sounding song that neither of you have heard before, and it’s comforting to just sit and absorb the peace of the night as you drive. You’re conscious of Frankie’s eyes on you, although you’re sure he’s trying to be subtle about his staring. His seemingly unwavering attention does little to quiet the voice you’ve been hearing in the back of your mind for the last few weeks.

He still can’t quite believe it. That you’d wake up, in the middle of the night, and haul ass across town for him. For him. Something about it somehow makes ribcage feel like it's about to burst and cave in at the same time. But now is definitely not the time to be thinking about the tiny baby crush he may or may not be developing on you.

You don’t miss the way he tenses when you pull into the hospital parking lot, muscles locked so tight that a stiff breeze could shatter him into pieces. He turns to you when you say his name softly, and his eyes are wide with a terror so familiar that your heart breaks in your chest.

“I can’t do it.” He chokes the admission out like it’s poison, and in just four words you can hear every ounce of hatred he has for himself in this moment. He thinks he’s weak, because he can’t even throw a little plastic bag into a hatch, because he can’t even bring himself to move.

“That’s okay. Did you want me to?” You offer, it’s plain as day on his face that he doesn’t know how to ask you.

You’re grateful for the unusual warmth of the night when you step out of the car, comfortable enough not to need a jacket at this time of day. The sky is just starting to turn that odd shade of blue-grey, the barest hints of dawn on the horizon. Another day, just like tomorrow will be. Sometimes, the next day is all you can hope for.

The metal handle is cold when you wrap your hand around it and haul the creaky hatch open, you fish the bag out of your pocket and don’t even pay it a second glance as you set it on the little shelf and let the door snap shut. Gone. But you can still feel it eating away at you, you can still see how it weighs on Frankie’s shoulders when you shuffle across the concrete and climb back into the car.

He says he’s not hungry when you ask, and you don’t push it. He’ll eat when he’s ready. He’ll live when he’s ready. You don’t mind, you’ve got a better idea anyway.

“Where are we going?” He asks when he realises you’re heading completely the opposite way from his apartment building. You shoot him a smile, turning your eyes back to the road before you can read too far into the look in his eyes.

The beach is dead, just like you thought it would be, and you’re grateful as you shut off the engine.

“We are gonna throw rocks in the sea.” You say and part of him wonders if you’ve always known exactly what he needs.

If someone had told Frankie, twenty four hours ago, that he’d be skipping pebbles on the sea with you at sunrise, he would have laughed. But here he is, flecks of the rising sun on the sea reflecting on your face, and you’re smiling at him like that as a breeze ruffles his hair. Maybe this is all he needs to find the courage to stare right down the barrel of his faults. He doesn’t know how you do it, maybe you can do it together.

You reach over and take his hand when you spot the lone tear tracking its way down his cheek.

“You’ll be alright. I promise.” You smile just as the sun finally breaks fully over the horizon, sky streaked with orange and pink.

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie can’t help but smile back.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

#this is the most personal thing i've ever written i am Afraid #yikes okay #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #liz does words #sfw

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thebookreader12345 · 5 years ago

Text

Collision

Pairing: Matt Casey x Sibling! reader

Summary: Y/N, who is Matt Casey’s younger sister and also a member of Truck 81, is hurt badly when the firetruck gets into an accident

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of a car accident and severe injuries, plus some light swearing

Word Count: 1,537 Words

Note: This is taken from Chicago Fire S3 Ep3, Just Drive the Truck

“Hey boys,” I say cheerfully as I walked into the break room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Looking at a food truck for Molly’s II. Look at this baby. She’s a beauty,” Joe exclaimed and showed me a picture of the food truck.

“Wow. That looks pretty nice. How much is it?” I ask.

“Only $12,000,” Joe answered.

“No,” Otis interjected. “That 12K at the top is how many miles the truck has. The price is right here. $79,000.”

“Oof. Better luck next time.” Mouch responded and Joe’s shoulder. Just then, the alarm sounded throughout the firehouse.

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Structure fire, 16th and Wabash,” the dispatcher spoke through the intercom.

“Duty calls,” I mumble and turn back around to head to the apparatus floor. I put on my gear pretty quickly and climbed into Truck 81. My seat was against the back wall of the truck, so when I was looking forward, I could see out the windshield. Out of the 3 seats in my row, I was the one furthest on the inside of the truck, mainly because I was the smallest out of Otis, Mouch and I. On the way to the fire, I kept my gaze trained ahead. I liked watching our surroundings pass us by. Suddenly, the truck jerked, and we began tipping over. The last thing I remember before blacking out was a wave of pain rolling through my entire body, and the sound of sirens.

Matt’s POV

“How’s every looking?” I ask my crew.

“Mouch has a pretty big cut on top of his eye. And Lieutenant, Y/N, she’s unconscious. It looks like she’s bleeding pretty bad,” Otis replied. I turned around to get a look at my younger sister, and when I saw her, my face paled. A decent sized pool of blood was puddling around his side, and she had a large cut on her forehead. As for the side of her body that was pressing against the floor, I couldn’t tell if she was hurt, but because of how much she was bleeding, I had to assume it wasn’t good.

“Hey!” Kelly shouted and scaled up the side of the truck. “Any injuries?”

“Mouch is bleeding,” I answer. “And Y/N-” I choked up on my words. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“It’s going to be okay. Nobody touch Y/N. If she’s got a neck injury, I don’t want you guys jostling her. Lets get you guys out of here,” Kelly said. I groaned and climbed out through my shattered window, wincing as I moved my joints.

“Severide, you have to get Y/N out of there,” I plead. “Promise me you will.”

“Casey, protocall say’s we’ve got to save those likely to survive first,” Kelly explained.

“Are you serious? You’re always the one breaking the rules, and now when my sister is is danger, you want to follow them? Screw you!” I shout and climb over to the doorway leading down into the back of the truck.

“Casey, stop. Go and help Molina. I’ve got this. Mills! Capp! Get over here!” Kelly called out. Peter and Capp ran over to the truck, and Kelly looked down at them. “Y/N’s pinned in here pretty bad. I need you to get a neck collar and a board ready. We’re going to do a lift,” Kelly told them. Capp and Peter ran off to grab the supplies just as Chief Boden arrived.

“Take care of her, all right?” I ask.

“Yeah. Of course,” Kelly said as I climbed down from the truck to meet Boden.

“Is everyone okay?” Boden asked.

"Mouch’s eye is messed up. Dawson's taking him to Chicago Med. And Y/N is stuck at the bottom of our truck. She’s bleeding pretty bad, Chief, and I don’t know how long it’ll take to get her out,” I respond.

Boden cursed. “Cruz, what happened?”

“I don't know, Chief. They came out of nowhere,” Joe replied as Chief Tiberg appeared.

“Who had the light?” Chief Tiberg asked.

“We did,” Joe spoke confidently. "And if it wasn't green, then it was yellow. There's no way it was red.”

“You don't know what color it was?” Tiberg questioned.

“Cruz, did you see the light?” Boden asked.

“I must have. I know I did,” Joe confessed.

“Lieutenant, did you see the light? Tell me you saw the light,” Tiberg demanded.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t see it,” I answer.

“Someone else had to have seen the light,” Tiberg insisted.

“Y/N did,” I admit.

“All right. Then lets speak to her,” Tiberg ordered.

“You can’t. She’s stuck in the truck still and uncons-” I cut myself off and took another deep breath, attempting to keep tears from making their way to the surface. Just then, I heard commotion coming from behind me, and when I turned around, I saw that Squad 3 had managed to get Y/N out of the truck. They were now loading her on a stretcher. “Y/N!” I shout and run to the gurney’s side, grabbing her hand in mine. I was now able to see Y/N’s injuries to their full extent, and it didn’t look good. Along with the cut on her head which I had already seen, there was a huge chunk of metal sticking out of her side. It looked like it came from the inside of the truck. Her arm was also broken, and I knew that because one of the bones in her lower arm was protruding from her skin. Y/N’s skin was also getting deathly pale, meaning she was losing too much blood. We had to get her to the hospital now. As soon as the paramedics loaded her gurney into the back of the ambulance, I climbed in with her, and then we sped off to Chicago Med.

Y/N’s POV

When I woke up, I felt groggy, and my whole left side hurt like hell. I opened my eyes, but closed them immediately after. It was very bright in here. Finally, I was able to open my eyes, and I squinted a bit to adjust my eyes to the lighting. That’s when I realized that I was in a hospital room, and I remembered the accident. I glanced down at myself, seeing my left arm in cast, and my left side was patched up. I could also feel some stitches on my forehead, meaning I was pretty banged up when I was brought in here. At that moment, Matt walked into the room, and he practically ran to my side.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” my brother asked me.

“Like shit,” I reply softly. “Everything hurts.” Matt laughed, but something about it seemed off. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“The time it took us to get you out of the truck and how much you were bleeding, well, you should be dead. You crashed once on the way here, and once in surgery. I thought I lost you,” Matt explained and clutched my hand. I squeezed his hand as hard as I could, which wasn’t too hard considering I had just woken up from surgery.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Is everyone else okay?” I question.

“Mouch had a bad cut on top of his eye, but he should be fine. Everyone else got away with a few cuts and bruises. And Cruz, well, he was suspended,” Matt told me.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“He admits to the light being green, but he doesn’t remember that well, and I didn’t see it. So, Tiberg suspended him,” Matt said.

“I think you should get Tiberg and Boden down here. I’ll tell them what happened. I saw everything,” I murmur.

“Y/N, you should be resting,” Matt insisted.

“I can rest later. Right now, I need to tell the truth,” I say.

.......................................

“All right, Y/N. Tell us everything you saw,” Boden declared.

“Every time we get a call, I stare out the front windshield. It calms me down before we get to a fire, where sometimes, hell breaks loose. Anyways, yesterday, it was like any other call. I climbed into my seat, and I stared out the windshield like always. Just before the crash, when Joe was passing through the intersection, I saw the light. It was yellow, meaning it was our light. Molina was the run who ran through the light, not Joe Cruz,” I exclaim.

“We’ll definitely take that into consideration. Thank you,” Chief Tiberg informed me and left the room.

“Uh, the rest of the firehouse is in the waiting room. Do you want me to send them in?” Boden asked.

I smiled. “Yeah. Send ‘em in.” Seconds later, the rest of the firehouse swarmed into my room.

“Man, you look like hell,” Kelly told me.

“Please. Even though I look like shit, I look better than you do on your good days,” I counter, causing the whole room to laugh. “But thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“It was no big deal. Now, who’s got some playing cards? I think it’s time someone beat Y/N at poker,” Kelly spoke.

“So you think that because I’m injured I’m going to lose? Fat chance. Pass me those cards. Kelly, you’re on,” I say.

_________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @giagma

#one chicago #chicago fire #matt casey #kelly severide #matt casey x reader #matt casey imagine #siblings #x reader #squad 3 #firehouse 51

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years ago

Text

Primum Non Nocere ~ Gregory House x Katrina Black

This may or may not be a personal fic I make for myself, that everyone is welcome to read in case they miss House or sth, so yeah, enjoy the clown fiesta.

There are many words that can describe Doctor Gregory House, all of them ranging from “Brilliant Doctor” to “The Biggest Asshole”...However, there is one person who ever called him “Sweet”, and each time, she got called insane.

Even Stacy, who dated him for so long, looked at her as if she suddenly became a chimera or something, which speaks volumes for his character as a whole.

It’s been 15 years since Katrina moved to America, and 15 years since she begged Lisa Cuddy to allow her to practice Medicine and learn directly from the hospital itself, even though she barely finished highschool and was beginning Medicine University.

Lisa had no reason to accept her, but she was much too sweet and convincing, doing everything asked, from cleaning, to nursing, helping her with management stuff, and then, as years passed, she started clinic duty and steadily, but fast-paced, she achieved her dream of becoming a successful cardiologist, going as far as becoming the new head of the department, since the old one retired.

Just as expected, she became friends with Lisa, James and Greg very easily, and each of them treated her in their own way - As her mother, as her confidant...And as her Mentor, of sorts - As Gregory House was the harshest and biggest jerk in the world, but not even the coldest man alive could resist her weirdly innocent charm.

She was the one to remember the gruff man’s every birthday and give him gifts she made herself - Nothing big, but always meaningful, like a winter scarf, or cute little decorations, engraved medical things and so one - And of course, on every Christmas, apart from gifts, she would bring him marshmallow hot chocolate and other festive decorations for his office, so he won’t feel lonely or bad.

Sometimes he didn’t even realise it, but every time he needed a proper diagnostic opinion, or his interns screwed up, he’d page her, not exactly caring if she was busy with clinic work or with an important surgery, and he’d make fun of her for rushing for “No reason”.

Life is definitely difficult for a shy, young foreigner, all alone in the world, but somehow, with the help of this few people, she managed to find something that she lacked her whole childhood - A true “Family” and a place to call “Home”.

But for Gregory House, this woman, Katrina Black, has always been an enigma he couldn’t deduct - The greatest mystery that crossed his path - He wanted to know her, to understand her, to learn about her and her pain and maybe, for once, he won’t feel as miserable.

The past 5 years especially, after Stacy left him and he ultimately had to live in pain, addicted to pain killers, and while he got more and more bitter, he also began to appreciate, at least in his heart, the unconditional kindness and attention he receives from her

And so, here we are, 15 years after the moment that changed everything in their lives...

“It’s not inflammatory process. It’s not a clot, because Chase’s angio says so. And it’s not cancer, because her tush is perfect. Anybody else got an Aunt Elyssa with weird stuff?” House limped into his office, looking at the three subordinates that were sitting around aimlessly. “...Maybe it’s worth looking into-” Cameron began, but was quickly cut off by the elder one, who looked at the angio once again. “I though you said Carly’s angio was clean.” Gregory blinked, putting both angiograms on the board for a better peripheral view. “It WAS clean.” the Aussie insisted again. “You guys see the problem here?” House asked in his usual over the top way. “There’s no indication of any abnormalities, no lesions, no spurs, no mastis-” Foreman got up to get a better look at the pictures better. “Well, if you guys don’t know, how about I call for the help of our lovely foreigner? I bet she’s gonna be angry for getting her out of whatever surgery she has, but...It’s in the name of science, after all!” he gave a mocking smirk at the trio as he hit CodeRed on the pager.

As expected, it didn’t take long for the girl to arrive, despite being in full surgical outfit, blood still on her gloves and her scrub cover, panting from having to run all the way there.

“What happened?! Are you okay?!” she tried to speak, despite barely being able to catch her breath. “Nothing really. Nothing that would result in the immediate death of a patient, clearly, and as you can see, I’m perfectly fine as well. Why ever would you hurry up like that out of a surgery?” Gregory fooled around, watching the crestfallen expression on her face, as she took off her gloves and scrub covers, revealing the cute and childish green scrub that had foxes on the top. It was her signature style, really - Always wearing the cutest, most childish scrubs, with various animals or flowers, and she was the only one who did that, despite her age, and didn’t care about anyone’s opinions. In fact, others kinda found it pretty nice too, almost giving off a more light and hopeful approach to a hospital. “So...Let me get this straight...I was in the middle of an open heart surgery...And you paged me while I was stitching it back together...With a code red, nonetheless...And I put my subordinate to cover for me, thinking that something happened to you or whatever patient you have...And instead, I find you here with no problem, loitering around with the three stoogies - No offense -...Having a party. Woaw, Greg, be careful, you are overshadowing yourself with every passing day.” Katrina groaned, throwing in the bin the discardable surgery objects and hopped on his desk, crossing her legs together nonchalantly. “Awwww, you love me, don’t you?” he retorted in a fake sweet tone, making the girl shake her head and chuckle. “Yeah, of course, who doesn’t?” she could barely keep herself from grinning at his silly self. “So what’s the real problem? What did they do?” “We are trying to see what’s wrong with Carly’s angiogram, and I figured perhaps the gorgeous eyes of an exotic, successful, intelligent woman, would be able to see the problem of another successful and intelligent woman.” he tried to speak with more honey than he ever did, just for the laughs. “The girl kissed by fire should dye her hair again. Also...It came to my understanding that most people have...A left and a right leg, right? Why does the angio have two left feet?” she asked, taking her hair out of the ponytail and messing it around. “Et voila! Without even knowing the patient’s problems properly, you saw the wrong when these guys didn’t. See, I told you the foreigner would get it faster than you.” House limped back to pat her head, looking at the three with judgement. “So...Who screwed up something so basic? I wouldn’t have expected someone that works under you to do such a stupid mistake -... No, wait, it was Chase, wasn’t it?” Kat smirked, looking at the Aussie with a playful glint in her eyes. “Wh-What?! Why did you think it was me?!” Chase looked at her with revolt. “Are you trying to tell me it WASN’T you?” she pressed on, watching him blink and get back in his chair. “How did you know?” Greg challenged her, only to see her shrug. “He seems like the only one to screw up something like this because he was trying to charm the pants off some nurse.” she spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You are absolutely correct! Oh, and, stop messing with your hair, you’re leaving strands everywhere.” he grabbed her wrists, and just for a split second, his beautiful icy blue eyes peered into her fawn-like green ones. “Well...Every fire has cinders and ambers, doesn’t it. Now that you basically dragged me out of the surgery room, you have to keep me around for the case. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me purrrowling around, would you?” she joked around, just as Chase got up, staring at the angios he screwed up in complete disbelief. “Yeah. Sure. You do that. At least I’ll have someone competent around.” he nodded his head, a bit awkwardly. “That’s impossible! It can’t be - “ Chase tried to defend himself, despite having no excuse. “Or maybe it was Jenny. How come some resident signed this radiology report? Were you even in the room?” House reprimanded the blond doctor. “I’ll redo her angio- “ Chase tried to defend himself, but was quickly shut down by his superior. “You’ll do nothing!” an angry House was a scary House, which made the room atmosphere tense as hell. “Eric, go do the angiogram, please.” Kat muttered, simplifying the problem. “...I can’t believe I did that.” Chase turned around to look at his fuck up, making the red haired girl sigh. “That’s what happens when you think with the wrong head at the wrong time.” with that, she flapped her hand to dismiss both of them, dragging House to sit down, worrying about his leg. “I am surrounded by idiots.” he dragged a hand down his face in anger. “Yeah, I know what you mean...But they are not stupid, in the long run. Just...Distracted sometimes...At the wrong times, sure, but...They have redeeming qualities too.” she tried to defend them a bit, while also calm him down, knowing very well that nobody can think straight while angry. “Yeah, I know. But neither you, nor I, have ever been distracted by trivial things like this. Speaks volumes about someone’s priorities.” he retorted just as tauntingly as before. “Well...He’s still young...And he knows he’s attractive for most people...I don’t know. I can’t really defend him for this one.” she looked down, sighing. “Then don’t. It’s not your job to defend everyone or try to make me feel better. Look at you. You’re young, beautiful and smart, but not once did I see you being distracted by some boy. Chase has no excuse.” he cut her off, making her smile in understanding, nodding blankly. “Yeah...But you’re the only one who sees me that way. You...And James and Lisa...You’re the only ones that I trust to tell me the truth and be genuine with me...And you’re the only ones who talk to me or hang around me without wanting something out of me. Sometimes things are more complicated than you see at the surface.” her voice became softer, almost melancholic, something that was completely out of character for her, or at least, that’s what he thought.

House was about to open his mouth and interrogate her, in his own weird way, only for his office room to get opened and have Vogler and Cuddy walk right through. With an ever so quiet curse from the girl, she bit her lip and raised her head, trying not to look worried or intimidated.

“What a pleasant coincidence, finding both of you here. I see neither of you conformed to the rules yet. Are you trying to have an anarchy together? Not wearing proper clothing?” Vogler look down at the two of them, which made House blink in confusion at the girl sitting on his desk. “Well, I know I don’t wear a coat ‘cause it’s itchy and tacky...But as far as I’m aware, if my eyes haven’t gone wild from the LSD, Katrina’s wearing a medical scrub.” the man started playing with his cane, only to see the girl shoot him a warning look, mouthing for him to shut up. “Animal scrubs are unprofessional. Nobody in the hospital wears them, and there is no benefit to them.” the businessman refuted with ease. “The benefit is that I make them myself, they are comfy, and people find them nice to look at. My patients feel calmer and more reassured seeing cute things. It makes them see past their health issues, even by a few seconds. And children and teenagers especially love it.” the girl explained herself calmly, before biting her lip and speaking a bit lower. “I’d recommend you wear a cute scrub too, I’m sure they are more comfy than your business suits. Maybe you’ll lighten up and realise we are in a hospital and we work with people, not with documents and money.” “Haha, you’re pretty funny. Now I see why the two of you are always together. You have a knack for breaking the rules. Or, better said, you completely disregard the rules as if they don’t exist at all for you.” Vogler’s voice seemed to get darker and more threatening. “It’s just a coat and a scrub. House works from his office, and he wears suits, I don’t see how that’s a problem, the same as my scrubs, there’s no rule anywhere saying I am strictly forbidden from wearing cute tops. Do you really feel your authority so undermined by two people in this huge hospital wearing different things, despite not getting in the way of their pristine perfect work? Or perhaps you feel some kind of weird...Inferiority complex that you must hide and keep in check by walking all over everyone as if we are doormats?” Katrina spoke without even looking at anyone, only staring ahead, coincidently, at the messed up angiograms, and for a few seconds, she could almost feel her own legs getting screwed up from the malicious vibe emanating from the businessman. “Katrina...” Lisa brought her out from her trance, sharing a look of worry together, knowing very well they’re screwed either way. “It’s not about what rules are out there or not. It’s about the rules that I make, and making sure you are team players. If you are not, then...I believe we won’t be able to cooperate for much longer. Especially if Dr. Cuddy isn’t able to keep you in control.” Vogler threatened, before turning away and leaving, while Lisa gave her a pitiful look, following behind him. “...Fantastic day, isn’t it?” Katrina put her hands on her face, sighing in frustration. “Do you really make your own scrubs?” Greg asked, making her turn her head to look at him, before nodding. “Yeah. Want one? I can make you a pink one with lots of flowers and smiley faces.” she joked half-heartedly, which made him realise the annoying businessman was affecting her more than him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” he shook his head, getting up, patting her head. “What else do I have left after what just happened.” she stretched, cracking her fingers and spine, as she hopped off the desk, just as her pager started ringing. “Good luck with your patient, Greg. I have to go. If anything happens, page me...But no code red during surgery this time, please.” she gave him a tender smile, leaving the room, making him look after her.

What was it about her today that made her seem off? It has to be only Vogler, right? What else could it be. The patient, however, has many many symptoms, and no actual disease yet. Fascinating!

As time passed and he got to treat his patient, and even lied to the transplant committee so Carly would get a new heart, and nobody, except for Wilson and Black, who were there, knew about that felony he committed.

On the other hand, during this time, Katrina has been working day and night with barely any rest, other than the tons of coffee she had to down to keep herself awake. There was something very uplifting about overworking, and no, not only your heart rate.

“Hey, Kat.” Wilson raised his hand up to salute his friend, which made her stop in front of him, albeit a bit spazzic like a meerkat, but nothing too out of the ordinary. “Hey, James, how are you?” she smiled at him, walking slowly together to whatever place he was heading to. “Pretty good. Wanted to grab lunch, how about you?” he asked politely, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “It’s lunch already? How time flies...I forgot to eat again. Too bad.” she chuckled sheepishly, grinning at him. “Anyway, have a great meal, I have a surgery to prep for.” “You should still eat something, you can’t live on coffee alone.” James muttered with concern. “Thank you for your concern, James, I appreciate it. I have to hurry now, eat for me too.” she chuckled, stopping in her tracks, waving him goodbye. “Wait, hold up, I wanted to ask you something.” he stepped closer to her, bending a bit so he could speak without anyone lese hearing. “Do you know what House lied about? At the committee? I know he lied, but I don’t know what about.” he asked, making the girl sigh and shake her head. “No, sorry, I don’t know. If you want, I can ask him when I’m done with the surgery.” she suggested, seemingly interested herself. “If he tells you, that would be great. He seemed to stop himself from telling me because I am a member of both the board and the transplant committee...Which you are as well. Good luck.” he points out, both curious and frustrated with his friend. “Well that’s interesting...Okay, you’ve got me hooked, I’ll see what I can do and I’ll tell you as soon as I find out. Laters.” Kat winked at him, rushing to do the surgery.

However, she didn’t have to do much work, for when she was almost done with the surgery, House himself made his way into the room, examining her working, before speaking.

“How would you fancy dinner tonight?” he asked, which made her look at him, raising her eyebrow in confusion. “Did you talk to James by chance?” she questioned right back, doing the finishing touches. “Yeah, how’d you know?” he asked jokingly. “Oh, you know...Just the usual thing of me forgetting to take care of myself. So, where do we go?” she asked, finishing the sewing and turning around to exit the room. “My home. We get take out, fall asleep since it’s already past midnight...I came with the motorcycle, I even brought your cat helmet, come on, I’m hungry, don’t question so much.” he put his arm around her shoulder, bringing her to the parking spot. “No room to complain much, is there? Is it really past midnight? I feel like I just talked with James a little ago...” she muttered, taking the helmet and putting it on. “Time flies fast when you’re having fun, they say.” House pointed out, starting the engine.

For the rest of the night - Or early morning rather - They finished eating and were relaxing by the piano, playing “My Way” by Frank Sinatra and other fun, classical, beautiful songs, humming the lyrics and reveling in the fact that there were no cases for a while, and no worries, at least for what Vogler is worth.

“Say, mind if I ask you something?” Kat asked, turning her head to look at him. “Yes, a hooker came by just yesterday, how did you know?” he gasped dramatically, looking right back at her. “Oh, just a lucky guess. However, my question was going to point more towards the patient you just had, who needed a heart transplant. I and James were curious about your little white lie.” she chuckled at his jokes, which made him blink at her and frown. “Sorry, doctor-patient confidentiality makes me unable to say anything. As well as ethics. Those are very important rules that everyone must follow for a better place to live in, don’t you think?” she never really understood why, but those back and forth playful banters always made her laugh. “Oh yes, of course...Ethics...How could I possible forget about Ethics? Perhaps you have a dictionary so I can look it up once in a while. And now, for the real reason...I can assume it was something psychological? Some mental illness that nobody was supposed to know about?” she smirked right back at him, only for him to look at her for a brief few seconds and nod abruptly. “Bulimia and self-harm.” Greg answered, which made the girl smile sadly. “Figured it would be something like this...Many women like her have self-issues and they get desperate and lonely to the point where they find the only relief from stress and self-hatred in overworking and terrible coping mechanisms. Buuuut she proved to you she wanted to live, and you fought for her and saved her. That’s amazing. You...You are amazing, you know that, don’t you?” she praised him, a soft smile on her face of something that may or may not resemble admiration. “Where are you getting at with that? It’s almost like you’re praising her...For something.” his voice lowered a bit, almost as if he was interrogating her. “Praise is a big word...Although she is a great woman, without a doubt. I was actually praising you, above all else...And...I was just wondering...Would you...Would you do the same for me? Should I have been in the same position as she was.” she asked, as a matter of fact, which made the other doctor raise his eyebrow at her. “Why would you be asking something like that?” it was clear that by now, the atmosphere got a little bit tense, until she started randomly playing “Carol of the Bells”, such a beautiful, uplifting Christmas song, yet House could almost smell the nostalgic undertones it had. “You are being very weird, Katrina.” “Oh, come on, lighten up, it was only to satisfy my scientific curiosities. Christmas is coming, I haven’t slept in two days, I’ve been drinking so much coffee that I think I’ve transcended into another universe altogether...And everyone is weird in their own way, you can’t tell me otherwise. Now come on, answer me, don’t be such a killjoy.” she grinned, nudging him playfully with her shoulder as she got closer to him, trying to get him to stop thinking it was some greater problem. “...No.” he answered solemnly, which made the girl blink and tilt her head to the side like a confused puppy. “No...You won’t do the same for me, or No...You won’t answer?” Kat asked softly, hoping to get a straight answer out of him, but that’s never the case with House. “Figure that out when you go to sleep tonight. Good night, Kat.” Greg said, getting up from the piano and making his way to his dormitory, leaving the girl alone.

Sighing, she continued to play “Summertime” from Gershwin to calm herself down, before getting up herself and walking all the way to her home, albeit not a long walk, yet still relaxing thanks to the cold outside that relaxed her.

The next day, Katrina walked in around the clinic with her big Triple Espresso Caramel Latte cup, going around to do her clinic duty, only to get paged by House once again, most likely to help with another diagnostic, or point out some obvious idiocy one of his subordinates has done.

On the way there, she spotted the big bad wolf, so she hid behind numerous people and quickly ran up the emergency stairs to escape her fate, until she got to the diagnostician’s office, catching her breath.

“Why did you run? There was no code red this time.” he asked, wagging his cane around. “Yeah, well, code V from Vendetta spotted me, so I had to pretend I didn’t see him. The emergency stairs are a blessing, sometimes.” she chuckled, leaning, on the glass wall, taking big sips from her coffee. “Have you thought about what I said last night?” he asked, and by then, the eyes of the onlookers seemed to go back and forth between those two. “I would have...But as you can see, I didn’t exactly sleep last night. Again.” she gave him a sarcastic, exaggerated grin. “Yeah, I can see that. You look dreadful. Do you make it your personal mission to go in the Record book for the idiot who refused to sleep the longest?” he limped in front of her, making her sigh and roll her eyes. “It wasn’t for lack of trying, okay? I go to bed, it takes hours to fall asleep, and when I do, I have nightmares and sleep paralysis, I wake up startled and restless, and there is that, I can’t fall asleep back again because of overwhelming anxiety. Are you happy with my answer?” she looked up at him with an almost annoyed look in her exhausted eyes. “...Nope.” House dragged his answer a bit, as if he was thinking over some rationalisation of her behaviour. “Are you taking pills?” he asked again, popping a Vicodin pill. “Uh...Should I?” she muttered, blinking questioningly at him. “Maybe. If you don’t already. I’m not entirely sure if you are or not, unless you tell me.” he pointed out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or maybe I need a long vacation in the Maldives. Or to go back home in Europe. Who knows, maybe sleeping in the Sun, on a beach chair, hearing the ocean waves would prove to be a great way to fall asleep and actually...You know...Sleep!” she shrugged and turned around to leave, but he hooked the semi-circle part of his cane around her neck, bringing her back, making her yelp in shock. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting off recently.” he limped in front of her, blocking the exit. “Ah, yes, of course. An anomaly in an otherwise boring human who is bound by routines. How could I forget how much you love solving these anomalies? But, you see, I’m not your patient, so I have to ask you to refrain from trying to diagnose me, and return to whatever your guy has.” she tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge, which only made her sigh in aggravation. “I think...You are hiding something.” House pushed her with his cane just enough to look at her better. “Yeah, you’ve got me. Something completely unexpected...Like...Vogler giving me a hard time and threatening to fire me, despite being the head of the Cardiology department...And Christmas is approaching and I’m as lonely as always...Oh, and, how could I forget, my family wants to visit. My family. Who hasn’t contacted me in like 15 years. Suddenly wants to visit me. I’m SURE they want to have a very nice, lovely chat with me. Now that you know how miserable my days have been lately, can I go back to being miserable in my own department, where I can actually do something productive with my time?” it wasn’t often when she got so worked up, but it was clear she was stressed out and needed some way to vent or relax. “Don’t you want to know the answer to your question?” he looked down for a few seconds, before looking in her eyes, noticing how her eyes were puffy and droopy, and her bottom lip was quivering lightly. “...I don’t know.” she muttered, moving past him and going back to the clinic to do her job as she’s supposed to.

Of course, Vogle continued to be a problem for everyone, Christmas passed and she was just as lonely as every other year, so she drunk herself to sleep while listening to old school songs from her native country, because no matter how silly they were, they still made her feel happy and nostalgic.

Things continued to go array for everyone in the hospital, so bad and so hard that the evil businessman called for a board meeting to fire House, which caused a shit ton of problems for everyone, especially Kat, Wilson and Cuddy...But the only ones who refused were the first two, which escalated to another meeting right then to fire them...On her own birthday, barely a week and a half after Christmas.

“Doctor Wilson, Doctor Black. I was hoping you were gonna miss this one.” Vogler said as soon as the two entered the office room and sat on their chairs next to each other. “A man is the sum of his actions. Here are a few of Dr. House’s. He violated a D.N.R. and was charged with assault. He brought a termite into the O.R. and spat on a surgeon. He accepted a Corvette from a patient who was a known member of the New Jersey Mafia.” the businessman began, only to get stopped by one of the surgeons. “Ed, look-” he tried to reason, but was harshly cut off. “Edward.” Vogler looked sharply at him. “Edward. You look at anyone’s career, you can find things that are-” the surgeon began to speak again, only to get quickly shut down. “These are the last 3 months! He’s personally had more complaints filed against him than any department in this hospital.” Vogler continued, and James tried to reason this time. “Okay. He’s screwed-up. He’s miserable. And he should probably re-read the ethics code, but it works for him. He’s saved hundreds of lives.” Wilson explained, but it was clear Vogler was on a war path. “He is a drug addict who flaunts his addiction and refuses to get treatment! He is a disgrace and an embarrassment to this hospital.” this statement made the red haired girl groan in annoyance and let herself fall back on the chair. “No, he’s not a drug addict, that’s what YOU want to see. How would you feel if your leg was in excruciating pain because of a surgery choice you had NO choice over, and yet, you still had to work, save lives, and think properly? House MAY look like he’s some kind of insane jerk, but he is known all over America for being THE best diagnostician and was able to save people that otherwise, in the hand of ordinary doctors, would have died. Oh, and, those complaints have always been revoked or solved once the patient...You know...LIVED! You just want him fired ‘cause he’s not being your obedient lap dog. If you are so brave to speak ill of a person when he’s not around, why don’t you also have the guts to speak the truth?” she leaned forward to glare at her enemy, as Wilson put his hand over hers, trying to calm her down. “Says the one who’s always by his side, helping him indulge in his nefarious medical fantasies. Let’s keep this simple. Either he goes, or I go.” Vogler spoke, making Katrina rest her chin on her hand, watching him closely. “You shouldn’t personalise this.” Lisa tried to reason, but this guy was over the limits. “And by I, I mean my hundred million dollars. How’s that for personalising?” he started at poor Lisa, who was in a huge dilemma. “Who knew adults could be so petty? You give us money for a reason, and then you threaten to take it away because one doctor, the only one who cares about his patients more than anything, does his job as he is supposed to. Very mature.” Kat sneered at him, rolling her eyes at him. “Gregory House is a symbol of everything wrong with the health care industry. Waste. Insubordination. Doctors preening like they’re kind, and the hospital is their own private fiefdom. Health care is a business, I’m gonna run it like one. I hereby move to revoke the tenure of Dr. Gregory House and terminate his employment at this hospital, effective immediately.” Vogler declared, which made the red head jump up from her seat and slam her hand on the desk. “Since when can you decide for everyone? Are you some sort of God or what? You are WRONG Ed. First of all, Gregory House is the ONLY doctor in this hospital who is capable of being perfectly objective and save ALL his patients, even from the weirdest, most unexpected diseases! Secondly, yeah, we ARE Gods, in a way! We actively get ourselves in the line to save hundreds of lives, we...We HOLD their fates in OUR hands! He is not the problem, and Health Care is NOT supposed to be a business! This is not a business corporate, this is a HOSPITAL! A place where we, DOCTORS, save lives! You wouldn’t get it, you’re not a doctor! You didn’t have to see people in agony, begging to be killed, nor did you have people crying in happiness for being saved! You know absolutely NOTHING of medicine! You have NO right to fire Gregory House, just like you have NO right to tell us, who spent over 10 years of our youth studying constantly, and more than 10 years having this healthcare as our everyday life style, that we should do this for money, and not for the people!” the room went silent from the shock of her outburst, since nobody, in 15 years, saw her so agitated, and yet, she was right...Against the wrong man. “Fascinating and touching speech, I must say. Now I know what I have to deal with. Now then, let’s resume to our votes. All in favour of firing Dr. Gregory House?” Vogler asked, cheekily raising his own hand, which was slowly followed by everyone, except for Katrina and James, who looked at each other with worry, letting their arms fall back from the table and holding hands for comfort. “Dr. Wilson? Dr. Black?” Vogler tried to nudge to give in, but it was for naught. “Opposed.” both of them answered in unison, knowing that either way, they’re screwed. “The...Motion is defeated.” the business man sighed, letting silence hang in for a few seconds, before speaking again, in a chirper voice. “Dr. Wilson, Dr. Black, would you mind leaving the room, please?” “Excuse me?” James asked, frowning in confusion at his words. “We’re going to take another vote.” Vogler explained, as if it was nothing. “We are board members. We have to be here when you vote. You can’t void our votes by making us stand in the hallway. And, as far as I’m aware, you need notice and at least one business day before you can reconsider any matter.” James continued, knowing very well that he can’t prolong the agony. “We’re voting on a different matter, which you are conflicted out of.” Vogler stood up, looking solemn over everyone. “How can we be conflicted out of? What is that even supposed to mean?” Katrina asked, looking at Lisa, who seemed to have an apologetic look on her face. “This vote is whether to dismiss Dr. James Wilson and Katrina Black.” everyone looked down hearing that...Katrina and James were a completely different matter, compared to House... “Oh, great, yes, fire everyone who is speaking the truth and doesn’t go by your stupid business idea. Newsflash, not everybody is a greedy fuckass like you are. Some of us are here because that’s why we wasted our life for! Saving! LIVES! If you guys, after so many years of working together, think that I and Wilson should leave, then fine, sure, vote yes. But if you’re doing it because of this guy...Then congratulations, welcome to communism. Trust me, I’d know, I’m Romanian.” looking with disgust at that guy, she grabbed her friend and left the office without another word, and when they got far enough, she slammed her back on a wall, pulling at her hair. “At least I know why House likes you. You were right. You have always been an admirable doctor. I hope one day he will appreciate you as he should. Its not like he has many people who actually tolerate him...” James put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her out of having an anxiety attack, until Vogler came by, looking as menacing and narcissistic as usual.

He threatened both of them, saying they have the option of leaving the hospital, otherwise he will destroy them...Which means that there was at least one person who voted to keep them there.

There was no point in trying to comfort each other, so instead, they went to their own offices, packing up everything they owned. However, instead of packing, Katrina stood criss-crossed on her desk, looking at her prized possessions on the shelves, including her awards, diplomas, random little plants and flowers, cute decorations...And a fox that had a heart in its mouth, that she received as a gift from House, Wilson and Cuddy when she became the head of the Cardiology department.

She didn’t even realise how tears were falling down her face, she almost felt numb to it all, but in reality, her heart hurt like hell and she couldn’t imagine how life would continue to go on from now on.

The sound of the door softly opening was blocked away by her personal phone ringing, and with a lethargic move, she raised her phone, without looking at the caller ID, and answered.

“What do you want?” Kat sighed on the phone, not having the strength to fake cheerfulness as she usually did. “Oh, sweety, hi, how are you?” ...it was her mother...What a coincidence. “Why are you calling? You haven’t contacted me since I left the country. I’m not sure you realised the passing of time, but it’s been over 15 years.” the girl sneered over the phone, clutching her grip on it. “Don’t be like that, darling, I just wanted to see how my eldest daughter is doing! You see, we want to visit you tomorrow, and -” her mother began, but was quickly cut off by her daughter. “You’re in America?! Why in the world are you here?! You NEVER left the country!” her alarmed reaction was rightfully explained, as her mother only laughed fakely. “Well, you see, your sister is very sick and she needs organ transplants and...You are a perfect match! Your sister really, really needs your kidney, liver and heart, and -” of course the only reason she’d call is because she needed her... “You...Called...So that I would kill myself...And give my organs to your precious daughter...Because I don’t deserve to live, but she does...Sorry, you might not have been informed, I’m a stone cold bitch without a heart, and I’ve always been. If you want organs, beg to a transplant committee, otherwise, I’m not giving my life to some stupid bitch who thinks she’s better than me. Oh, and, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, you already disowned me long ago, so there’s no reason for you to call anymore. And don’t call me to the funeral, I won’t come. Bye.” Kat aggressively slammed the phone lid close, before throwing it on the ground, putting her head on her hands and finally breaking down to cry...

But there were no tears.

There was only exhaustion.

“Hey.” the low voice of Doctor Gregory House echoed through the room which made the girl squeak in surprise and turn back to look at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people?!” she accused him, clutching her blouse where her heart is supposed to be. “I knocked. You didn’t answer, I let myself in. I...See you’re not having the best day.” Greg pointed out, which only made the girl roll her eyes and turn back to look at her shelf. “Yeah, no kidding.” she snorted, her hands grasping her ankles as she looked down. “Why did you come here? Did Wilson tell you what happened and you came to throw some pity words and say how you saved the patient? If yes, then go ahead, I’m listening...As always.” she waved her hand around, urging him to talk and stop being so awkward, but the silence seemed to cut them with a laser. “...Thank you.” the words she never heard uttered from his mouth before shocked her so much that she turned around to look at him, holding the eye contact that she was barely able to hold with anyone. “You...You? Gregory House? Are...Thanking...Me? For what? You never thanked me for anything I did to you, so why the change of heart? Did Wilson’s golden tongue melt your heart and mellowed you?” she taunted him to get him talking, but his expression didn’t seem as harsh or condescending as it usually did, instead, he seemed to be...Almost apologetic? As if he realised that his actions of being himself hurt the people he cares about. “Do you hate me?” Greg asked, which made the girl frown and blink in confusion. “You...Think that I gave up the best thing I’ve ever had, which is my job here, because...I hated you? I loved this place because you were here...And James and Lisa...But now that it’s all over...What are the odds of someone hiring all three of us at once, and...Lisa miraculously becoming the head of another hospital and...Yeah, I’ve got nothing, it’s all ruined. Guess I can finally get a vacation. Anything else you want to say before I fuck off completely out of your life, just as you wanted to?” it was clear that she was exhausted and just wanted to go home and be herself with no more veil of lies covering her. “You...You are too good for jerks like me, Katrina. You should hate me. I repeatedly ruined your happiness time and time again.” House muttered, looking down at the floor. “Right...I’m sorry for caring about you, I guess...If that’s what you want me to say. Stupid Katrina, huh? Always caring about others and forget about herself. Always so miserable and helpless, but nobody seems to notice. Stupid, lonely Katrina, who has no friends and no relatives to care for her...Who only want her alive to donate all her organs to her sick sister and she can just die for all anyone cares. Now, thanks for telling me that I should hate the only person I actually gave a damn about and trusted whole-heartedly. You made your point, as usual, you want me out of your life, I will do just that. Have a not-so-miserable life from now on...At least you.” she wiped her face from the tears, waving her hand for him to leave her alone already, as she looked at shelves again and hugged the fox tightly to her chest, burying her face in it. “The answer is yes.” was the only thing House said as he left her office, his head hung, and for the first time in ages, he felt his own heart aching at the sight of the girl crying.

While he did as he usually does, spending all his time saving his patient, she drank herself to sleep, day and night, listening to sad songs, singing them at the top of her lungs, hoping it would be therapeutical, but at some point, she forgot what it meant to be properly rational, and she touched the forbidden stash she was never supposed to use.

And in the end, at whatever god forsaken hour of the early morning, she called someone, and dearly hoped they would answer. She had no idea why she called this person...Maybe because he was the first person in the calling list, or maybe there was some other underlying reason that she didn’t want to accept.

Apparently, being drunk out of your wits out on the terrace of her penthouse, while singing at the top of her lungs some silly or depressing Romanian songs, as outside was freezing cold and snowing heavily...But she didn’t feel the cold, despite how light she was dressed...It wasn’t enough make her feel something again.

“Katrina? Do you know what time it is?” a gruff, sleepy voice asked on the other end of the line. “N-No, not really. I wasn’t even sure who I called. Sorry.” she sighed, as she started to cry. “Are...You crying?” a rustle from the other side resembled House getting up rapidly from the bed. “I-I think so, y-yeah. I...I didn’t realise I was crying. I-I don’t even know why I called you.” she gasped, taking another shot of vodka mixed with chocolate bailey’s. “Are you drunk?!” House spoke in a higher voice, obviously shocked, putting on his coat. “You don’t even drink!...I’m coming over.” “N-No, y-you can’t! You can’t see me like this! And...And I have to know something very important from you! It’s VERY important! Life or death important!” she raised her voice into the phone, unkown to him, as she was fidgeting back and forth on the couch, which made House stop in his tracks just as he touched the door knob. “What is it?” he asked in a way so she would try to calm down. “D-Do you...Do you hate me?!” the desperation in her voice was something so foreign for him to experience, but something so usual for her. “What?! What’s that question, why in the world would I hate you?! Katrina, what did you do?!” he slammed the door shut, rushing towards his motorbike. “I NEED to know that! Just answer this simple question! Please, Greg, just answer!” her voice became more strained and desperate. “...Of course I don’t hate you. I couldn’t. Not you.” he sighed, getting up on his motorbike. “No matter what I did?” she started sobbing by now, which really worried the man. “Yes, of course, now hang in there, I’m gonna be there in a few minutes.” Greg put his phone on speaker, in his jacket, so he could still talk to her, as thankfully, their homes were pretty close to each other. “Greg...I-I’m...I’m afraid...I...I did something bad...Something very bad...” she turned around on the couch she was lying on, watching the sky as she shivered, snow falling on her, as she took another shot. “Katrina, I’m waiting at the elevator. What did you do?” House kept tapping his foot until that dreadfully slow elevator pinged, showing it got to the bottom floor, then got in, waiting to reach the pent house. “I...Took pills...” she muttered, clutching the box of pills. “How many?” he asked urgently. “I-I don’t know! I’m drunk, I’m hurting, I’m desperate, I’m lonely and I had a bottle of pills...One, two, three, four, five...And then it’s all blurry...But the bottle seems pretty empty...And I’m scared of an OD...” she explained over the phone, and then, she heard the front door slam close, and next thing she saw was a tall figure rushing in front of her, then he crashed on the couch on the terrace, and he pulled her to his chest, putting his jacket around her shoulders, his hands on her face, trying to warm her up. “You...Absolute...Idiot!” Greg scolded her, which only made her chuckle weakly. “I really am, aren’t I?” she said as more tears fell down her face. “You really don’t hate me, do you? Now that you know?” she clutched tightly to his Tshirt, as he could only sigh and hold her tightly. “No. I don’t hate you. I can’t...Now show me the pill bottle.” he told her, and suddenly, he felt her fall limp in his arms, just as she pointed to the empty, knocked down bottle of anti-drepressants. “What did you do...” Greg muttered in horror as he dragged her to the bathroom, getting her in the bathtub, completely dismissing his aching leg, as he used the shower tap to get warm water on her, while he made her vomit all the pills she downed, hoping she wouldn’t need to go to the hospital, and obviously, that nothing would happen to her.

For the whole night and morning, he didn’t move from there, only holding the girl, checking on her at regular intervals of time, making sure her vitals were still normal... Until she heard a string of incoherent mutters, begging him not to leave her alone and that she doesn’t want to to be away from him.

Oh, Kat, if only you knew what kind of effect you had on him...What kind of pain you were making him feel...The grief of being betrayed by Stacy, the one he thought was the love of his life, and then the painful leg...And now you, someone he cares so much for...

She deserves so much more...She is so much better than he is, House thought, and yet, the selfish part of him, the one that was quickly beginning to gain terrain against his sensible one, desperately wanted to cling onto her and have her be his lover together.

Funny how the ones who look to be the healthiest and happiest are in reality the best actors and nobody knows if there’s ever anything wrong with them. Which only made her kindness and feelings towards him more genuine, he thought. She’s in constant pain, just like him, it was no wonder she could sympathise so well with, unlike everybody else...Or maybe she was just empathetic enough? More like Pathetic, she’d say, no doubt.

Time passed at an irrelevant pace, until she finally began to stir in her unconscious state, and finally, she fluttered her eyes open, making Gregory sigh in relief, and as soon as they made eye contact, her cheeks began to turn a hue pinker.

“Greg...? Why are you...? What happened...?” Kat muttered, clutching her head in pain. “You don’t remember anything from last night?” he asked, frowning in confusion. “...Sorry. I know I was pretty sad...And I was listening to music from my childhood at home...And I started drinking...And I remember the bottle of pills taunting me...And from then on, it’s all blank. Did I...Did I call you...?” she clinged on his shirt to get into a sitting position. “Yeah, something like that. Can you stand? You need to change into dry clothes before you catch the Rhino thing.” he joked, making the girl smile softly. “Oh no, not the Rhino thing!” she chuckled, and with a bit of help, she got up, and was able to change into proper, warm clothes. “I’m starving, wanna go eat something? I have some coupons for the Chinese restaurant just down the street.” she hooked her arm to his, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Sounds like a plan, let’s go. But before that, you must promise me never to do something like that again.” House looked at her with seriousness in his eyes. “Okay. I promise. I...I don’t know why I caved in like that. I always promised myself I’d never go that far...I fucked up once, but in a different way...And...I guess in my drunk state I didn’t realise that no matter how many pills I take, the pain won’t go away...Drunk people are really stupid, aren’t they” she chuckled awkwardly, lowering her head in guilt and shame as she used her chopsticks to get some noodles. “...People in pain do stupid things sometimes.” Greg muttered, letting silence take over them for a few minutes, before speaking again. “Happy late birthday, Katrina.” his words made her look at him with eye, confused eyes, before taking out her phone at looking at the date, realising she spent her whole birthday drinking. “I...Completely forgot...Guess now we’re even, huh?” Kat smirked, pointing her chopsticks at him in amusement.

Not much time later, House called Kat over to his office at evening, and everyone dear to her was there, celebrating that Lisa managed to get rid of Vogler once and for all...Of course, of the 100 million $ too, but that’s besides the point. They were back in business, the shock family, ready to save more lives again!

Everything went back to normal - Or well, the normality that was entrapped in their weirdness - But it was THEIR normality. A chaos of going back and forth, arguing, almost killing patients, and then, saving them miraculously.

However, nobody is safe from illness, and one day, during some diagnosis discussion, Kat was pacing back and forth, thinking and saying her ideas for the others to refute or agree to, only for her to abruptly stop in her tracks, her back facing everyone as she coughed.

“Haemoptysis.” she muttered, only for House to grimace. “Haemo-what now? Last time I checked, our patient didn’t cough nor spit blood.” but instead of answering, she coughed up a bit more, her hands covering her face. “Vertigo...” she spoke again, in a much fainter voice. “What the hell are you babbling about?” he hit his cane on the ground, only to see her taking a few steps forwards, albeit, a little wobbly. “I’m...Gonna...” and just as she uttered those words, her legs gave out, and she fell, the only reason for not hitting the ground being Greg’s Godly reflexes which ensured he caught her. “Damn it, not again...What are you three sitting around for? Get a crash cart and a nurse!” House scolded his interns, who rushed to do just that. “What did you do this time, Kat...” he shook his head in disdain as he brushed her gorgeous crimson hair out of her face.

She looked so peaceful now, unconscious, were it not for the blood on her chin and hands, but now, unlike last time, she didn’t look like some kind of undead who was ready to give up her life at any given moment out of sheer misery and self-hatred.

As soon as she was taken away from his arms, he refused to go look over her...He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid that, since he cared so much about her, he would become unreasonably subjective and he may completely screw up her diagnosis. Greg hoped with all his heart that it was nothing life-threatening, but blood in her lungs was no easy, nor simple thing.

Wilson visited her and held her hand, Cuddy visited her and kissed her forehead, even his subordinates went to check up on her because they wanted to...Even her cardiology colleagues went to see how she was doing...

But not him. Never him. Because if he did, he was screwed for life.

No matter how much he wanted to deny himself, however, he couldn’t help but find himself in her room, in the middle of the night, sitting on a chair besides her, holding her hand in both of his, kissing it and thinking of her diagnosis.

That is, until her hand suddenly started to shake, startling the doctor besides her, as she opened her eyes, panting for air.

“Hey, you okay?” House asked, squeezing her hand gingerly. “Urgh, yeah...Just had a nightmare...Followed by sleep paralysis. Again. Nothing new, here. Uhmm...It may sound as a bit of a deja-vu, but what in the world happened?” she sighed, getting into a sitting position, looking at him. “You tell me. You coughed blood, got dizzy and fainted. Did you take anything? Felt bad or something?” he asked, making the girl scratch the back of her head awkwardly. “Nothing that I haven’t felt before, really. I have anxiety, I frequently experience restlessness, problems with breathing, arrhythmia, sometimes dizziness and stuff. It’s inconvenient, but you get used to it, so I didn’t took any pills, especially not after that scare a few days ago. Do you...Think it’s because of...My fuck up?” she looked worriedly at him, but he only looked down, thinking. “Not so fun being on the other end, huh?” House smirked before shaking his head. “I have no idea. We need to do some tests on you before we can confirm anything. But you’ll be fine, that much I can guarantee.” he promised, which made her smile sadly, leaning back on the pillow, squeezing his hand back. “Can you stay with me a bit longer? I, uhm...You know...Problems sleeping...When I’m with someone...I tend to sleep better...And a close to a full night. I-I don’t know why, but it’s always been like this.” she brought up the hem of the blanket to cover her face. “Then get a boyfriend and sleep with him. You’re young, smart and beautiful, there’s nothing stopping you from that.” Greg muttered in a low voice, almost self-deprecating. “Yeah, that’s easy. If men actually went out of their way to talk to me...And that hasn’t happened in 15 years, so, as you say, Mazel Tov. That, and I’m afraid of people.” she sighed, biting her lip in embarrassment. “Whaaaaaat? No boyfriend in 15 years? No action? I don’t believe you.” he took off the blanket from her face, only to see her blushing face. “You’re the only person that I never lied to. I’m great at lying and deceiving and all that...But yeah, I know, I’m pitiful, don’t have to remind me. Why do you think my life is mostly spent in the hospital. I’m not as lonely as I’d be at home.” she looked away, snatching her blanket back. “You don’t have to stay. It’s much more comfortable sleeping in a bed, especially with that leg of yours.” “Yeah, it would be. Now close your eyes and get some sleep.” and so, he didn’t budge from her side the whole night, and she didn’t wake up from nightmares or restlessness.

Days went on, and she kept on getting tested, and House was beginning to get more and more angry at the fact that he wasn’t able to properly diagnose her faster, and he was becoming unbearable for everyone around him.

On the other hand, just as Lisa and James were visiting her, trying to keep her company, when the two people she never expected to see again burst into her room with wide grins on their faces...Which in turn, made Kat drop her phone on the ground from the shock.

“What the hell...?” the red haired girl’s bottom lip quivered in anger. “Kitty-Kat, darling, we missed you so much! You haven’t come home in 15 years!” the mum stepped forward, ready to throw her arms around the girl, but she was met with hostility as Kat dragged herself backwards in the bed, away from her, pure disgust glowing on her face. “Don’t you dare touch me! And don’t you even think about calling me that nickname! I don’t care if you’re my parents, you never gave a damn about me, so don’t pretend to do now that THE perfect daughter is terminally sick and needs a quick organ donation that would ultimately KILL the useless, unwanted, worthless daughter!” Kat sneered at them, untangling the respiratory oxygen tubes who got knotted in her sudden gesticulation. “Kat, are you alright...?” James walked next to her bed, trying to calm her down, only to get yelled at. “No, I’m not! Get them out of here before I get a restriction order!” she continued to glare at them. “Come one, Kitten, don’t be like that, we came all the way from Europe to see you, when you didn’t even give us a call! I don’t know why you hate us.” the dad gave an awkward smile, as if he was embarrassed by his problematic child. “You didn’t call once to tell me Happy Christmas, or...Or Happy Birthday...You didn’t congratulate me on finishing University or on...Literally anything. And now, you come to me only to make sure that I actually die so you could take away my organs and make sure your favourite daughter keeps on living...And you’re actually...You really...Have the guts to ask me WHY I hate you? I hate you because you never cared for me, that’s why!” she gripped the hand grasps of the bed, not realising that House also got in the room. “No need to be so selfish, darling, it’s just a few organs that you could live without! We managed to find a heart transplant, we just need a kidney and part of your liver!” the father tried to negotiate, only for her to grit her teeth. “You know what? I hope my sister dies the most painful death there is, and that you go off after her. We may be blood related, but I was never your daughter. And you know what? Just to make sure...You think you can get my organs? Here’s my response to that!” in a fit of rage, she ripped her oxygen tubes, which continued with violent coughing and some blood. “Why the hell do you even want me to treat you when all you do is get yourself in self-harming situations? First, you OD on anti-depressants while drunk, and now you’re cutting off your oxygen supply to prove your point that you have mummy and daddy issues and that you’d rather die than...Die? You’re just a selfish, immature girl with suicidal tendencies whenever things don’t go her way. You think I’m gonna lie to the transplant committee for someone like that? Because the answer is NO!” House limped in front of her, speaking with so much hatred that it made the girl cry and shake, crestfallen at the words she heard. “And you just had to go ahead and tell everyone that I’m fucked in the head. I wonder how much that is gonna up my chances of actually...Making friends and...A boyfriend...Y’know...Literally anyone who’d actually give a fuck about me. So...Yeah, thanks, you’re right, I’d rather die than being humiliated by the only person I ever actually had any genuine feelings for, because I’m sort of a sociopath with relationship traumas. So, if you could do me a favour, before I pass out, pick these two idiots and get yourself out of this place before I call security, okay? Thanks, bye.” and just like that, she started coughing up more blood, and fainted.

Seeing her being a reckless idiot drove House through the roof, and he realised that maybe, his dad wasn’t the only one to need a “Parent Of The Year” award, but even so, the fact that Katrina was so angry that she felt the need to be so overly dramatic to prove a point, and to have Cuddy kick them out of the hospital, sure was meant she was desperate, and for good reason. No wonder she never spoke about her family, or about anything about herself, unless it meant some nostalgic things about her country and other things that could come up as funny when told properly.

But why the hell does she have to make everything so much more complicated to him, especially now that he completely screwed up everything and she hates him.

How the hell did he manage to fuck up like that, just when he finally got ready to tell her how he feels...How he GENUINELY feels, without having to get full-sarcastic-jerk mode, and just telling her that he’s over Stacy completely and he’s ready to commit to her...And he just ends up basically telling her that he hates her, which is a complete lie.

Great job, Gregory House. The only thing you’re capable of doing is diagnosing and saving people, and sometimes, even that fails. Good thing she was okay, and with some anti-coagulant medicine, the clot that was causing her pulmonary embolism completely disappeared, and she was all ready to go.

Ever since that day, House didn’t visit her, her parents completely disappeared, and James and Lisa were completely pitiful, which only made the girl miserable. Thanking whatever deity existent that it was the last night being stuck in the hospital as the unfavoured party, so she went up on the roof, sitting on the little wall edge, looking up at the starts on the sky, putting the saddest song she ever knew to play on her MP3 player, which was “Daca ploaia s-ar opri” from Cargo, and as she softly sang the lyrics, the door opened and the sound of tapping cane was heard,

youtube

“I have no idea what the words are, but he song seems pretty sad. What gives?” House limped towards her, which only made her groan and roll her eyes in annoyance. “Aaaand you had to ruin the most emotional song as well. Great, what is next on your long list of destroying? I have no dignity, no pride anymore...My health you can’t legally screw...And there’s nothing else on the table is there? I have no heart anyway. So why are you here?” she asked, not even bothering to look at him. “Would you believe me if I said I came here to apologise?” House asked, getting closer to her, then turning his head to look up at the stars as well. “After what you pulled in that room...No. I don’t believe you anymore. You’re a jerk. You’ve always been one, but not to me, and not enough to actually hurt me. Now you did. Congratulations. You lost a friend...Not that you’d care, anyway. You’ve proven me that enough. You can go now.” she sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. “Yeah, I know, I fucked up. I got scared when I saw you pull that stunt, I panicked and...That happened. And I’m sorry about that. I admit that much.” he said as he put his coat around her, hoping she wouldn’t die of cold or something. “Fantastic, the asshole knows how to apologise. Congratulations, you are amazing. Now, do you actually expect me to believe you, or what are you trying to accomplish?” Kat asked, giving him a sarcastic smile. “Before you got sick, I was...I was going to ask you out. But then you got sick, and in turn I got worried sick.” Greg began to explain, only to get cut off. “No, you’re lying or pitying me. You don’t like me. I’m not...I’m not Stacy, or...Or Lisa. I don’t challenge you with every turn you take, I’m not a jerk to you, I am...Practically nothing like the women that you have been interested with, so excuse me for not believing a word you say. I was sick, vulnerable and pitiful, you were miserable, you heard that I haven’t dated in 15 years, you thought I was desperate for love, but trust me, after what happened when I was 17...I don’t think I want anything like that again.” she tsked, looking away from him, laying her chin on her knees. “I know I’m a jerk, but does that really sound like something I would do?” his voice sounded almost hurt at the implication. “...No, it doesn’t. But I also don’t believe that you like me and you’re not saying that just because you heard my dying words...Allegedly. You’ve said your speech, now you can go, and we will continue our work as it always was, without having to see each other, so no more paging me when it’s convenient to you either. Goodbye.” she waved her hand to dismiss him, but he didn’t budge. “What will it take for you to believe me? I will give up my parking spot for you. I will play the guitar for you. I...Will convince Wilson to give me his stupid dog so you could visit him more often. I don’t know, you know I’m horrible with these things called emotions. But I want you to know that what I say its genuine...And apart from what I said today, I never lied to you. So, if you ever have it in your heart to believe me and give it a chance...I’ll be waiting. And...I’ll be here to listen to you talk about your pain as well.” he confessed, and as soon as he turned around to leave, she quickly extended her arm to grab his wrist. “You...Really...Mean it?” she muttered, not daring to look at him. “Because if you fuck up, I swear I’m going to do something completely unethical and against the Hippocratic oath. Primum non nocere, they say. First of all, don’t do harm. I’m completely fine with killing you, because, in case you don’t know, I’m a sociopathic, heartless foreigner with no morals or ethics.” she smirked at him in amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of Nocere, if you have the Vicodin for it. Fire-Kissed girls are said to kiss the best. If we test that theory and it’s true...Then I think we both know we’re gonna work pretty well. If you want to.” he looked at her, putting her hands of her face, looking at her tenderly. “I really hate that I was made broken from the making in factory to be completely unable of hating how big of a jerk you are. Why is it so...Endearing, when it comes from you, but completely repulsive when it comes from anyone else? I can’t tell, and it’s annoying, because I can read people to a T. On the other hand...There is another saying...Vixens always get what they want. Maybe I finally scored the big jackpot.” she chuckled, pulling him down in a soft kiss, the feeling of warmth and love lingering on, intoxicating them even after they parted. “Yeah. I was right. You’re like my own fix of Vicodin or Amphetamines, and I’m completely addicted to you.” he flashed her a charming, playful smile, before kissing her with even more fire and passion than before. “Careful, you don’t want to OD, do you? You’ll need a detox or rehab.” she laughed at him, putting her hands over his, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Oh, please, I’d OD on you ever day, as many times as you want, and I’d have no regrets. You know what they say...Tout le monde necessite La Petite Mort.” he retorted just as cheekily, which in turn, made her laugh merrily. “I can’t believe-! You just...You just said that-...! You’re an incredibly, annoyingly good flirter, especially because I told you those pick up lines before...But don’t forget about me.” she shook with laughter, winking at him mischievously. “Wilson’s ex-wives always praise him for being the best. I’ll prove him I’m better than him at everything. Especially this.” he chuckled, sitting next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. “You better not talk about...That...To Wilson...Or Lisa...Or anyone, for the matter, or I swear, that little death you’re talking about, will be more literal than metaphorical.” she threatened him, poking his sides. “Oh, no, I’m scared of a little fox biting my nose while I’m asleep. Whatever could I do?” he mockingly called for help, which, as usual, made her laugh. “Jerk.” she grinned, hugging him tightly, cuddling closer to his side. “Yeah. I’ve been called that a lot.”

#house md #gregory house #gregory house x reader #gregory house imagine #gregory house x oc #james wilson #lisa cuddy #katrina black #robert chase #allison cameron #eric foreman #house md x reader #house md imagine

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shozaii · 5 years ago

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Hey! I love your writing! It's so cute. 💖 Can you write a HC about s/o and Todoroki, Bakugou, Shinsou and Kirishima first time? (It's the first time for both of them) I'm already excited to read aaa You can add another character if you feel like to.

(a/n): hello! ahhh thank you🥺❤️ i hope you enjoy them!

ps; i’m assuming it’s their first time dating don’t come for mE KSJSJS

requests are still open!💜

masterlist

•••

first time!

warnings: aged up characters! and slight nsfw!

•••

kirishima❤️

can we,,, talk about this,,🥺

eijirou would be the happiest man on earth when he finds out you have feelings for him.

you had no experience of dating, so what do? you wanted to tell your feelings but then you were freaking out

i have this feeling that he thinks nobody could ever fall for him (WHICH IS FALSE) but you proved him wrong��

and yes, he has feelings for you too! cue him being alone in his dorm, dancing to the cutest love songs that reminds him of you jsjdj

so it’s late at night, and he called you out to have a little chat with you

you knew the chat was something else AHA

and so there you two were, outside the dorms, in the cold night. when he saw you, he smiled his usual toothy grin and signalled you to come over.

when he confesses, your heart pounded so hard you could hear it

“i’ve been waiting my whole life to say this! i get it if you really don’t want to-you know... but before i lose my chances, might as well get it out,right?”

and before he could finish, you pulled him into a hug, burying your face into his sweater.

you two are the cutest couple alive. mina takes tons of pictures of you two (sometimes sneakily)

kaminari constantly teases you two, sero feels like a proud dad😳

and when you two train, it’s like you two were made for each other. even your quirks make the perfect combo!

he texts you whenever he’s not able to see you

it’s his first time dating someone so he promises to be the best boyfriend to you! he takes you out on dates, buys you your favorite candy, gifts you tons of kisses

he knows you love his hair down so on most dates, you’d see that a lot!

he’s fine with holding hands in public because he feels this manliness in him surging😤❤️

he always gives you little pecks on your cheeks and you do the same. he just didn’t know how he was going to kiss you on the lips?? he wanted it to be special so he waited.

the time came, when you two were in his room, slow dancing with the lights dimmed out. he was nerVoUs and you were too.

that’s when he went in for it.

his kisses are slow and passionate. he doesn’t want to rush because when he’s with you, time is limitless. imagine the whole world revolving around you were just stars in the night sky. fireworks from a distance.it was momentary bliss, to be honest.

he looks you in the eyes and asks, “you okay with this?”

you blushed. “yeah.”

he holds your cheek, leaning in as your lips fit together perfectly. he even smiles in between kisses because he’s just so happy🥺💕💕💕

you two end up in bed and go ‘???how did we get here???’

then you resorted to laying down on the bed. you laid on top of him, leaving a few more pecks on his forehead before settling in.

you can never go wrong with a boy like eijirou🌸

todoroki❄️

most probably the boy to be shook when he found out he had feelings for someone.

especially the someone being you. his intentions could never go wrong. i mean,,,look at you. a masterpiece from heaven itself.

right in front of him, blessing his sour days.

probably started around the time after the sports festival. he couldn’t help but notice your cheerful self in class. how you smile at your classmates. the little gestures that made them happy.

it made him happy too.

and you loved talking to shoto too! he was really quiet at first; but it was you who knew how to break the ice apart(no pun intended)

he told midoriya about it, sweating.

“well, todoroki. i’m sure your feelings wouldn’t lie to you! follow what’s best for you.”

he smiled. he knew his decision that very moment.

love is a new feeling to him- since his childhood days weren’t the best. and when he felt it, his emotions were all over the place.

you too, were astonished. you knew from the beginning of school days, you had fallen for him. so what were you about to do? leave it behind? find a way to let it out?

shoto also prefers to admit it to you personally. so he did it right after school finishes-while everyone was heading back to the dorms.

“y/n. i need to talk to you for a second.”

“sure! what’s up?”

he’s pretty straightforward, so he’d say it immediately.

“i like you. a lot.”

“ah! i like you too! that’s-“

“no. i like like you. um, feelings.”

you paused. well, it was obvious. you two were alone, he was blushing.

oh my god my crush just said he likes me.

paniK

it was mutual!🥰 a few were shocked to find out that you both were in a relationship. some people described you as polar opposites. others already knew that you had a crush on him, wink wonk

shoto has never really gotten physical affection for a long time, so it takes a while for him to settle in. but that doesn’t stop him from being with you almost 24/7

he learnt that he loved being kissed by you on the forehead. it was such a simple yet deep reassurance that you were there for him.

he loved kissing you on the cheek🥺❤️ he finds your cheeks so squishy and adorable. he also loves ruffling your hair during your cuddle sessions.

he loves loves loves it when he hovers over you while you’re on his bed-looking like the angel you are, and he starts leaving the trail of kisses from the cheek, slowly to the lips. it was a feathery peck. he was afraid that you didn’t want it.

but looking into your eyes, it was a plead for more. he closed in the gap between you two. your hands wrapped around his shoulders, and his hands landed on your waist.

momentary bliss part 2

sometimes you two communicate through each other’s eyes. no one else gets it😌

your quirks are a match made in heaven. it surprises aizawa on a whole new level.

he learned beforehand about a few of your favorite things so he decided to get them for you.

would max out endeavor’s card for you

long walks in the park, mall visits-anything you want, he gives.

somehow you always made him feel so special. and he was so glad his first time was a blessing.

bakugou💥

“i don’t have feelings! now quit it!” he says while literally blushing in front of the bakusquad. yeah i definitely see that happening.

blushes so red but wipes it off as if he’s got a fever. damn bakubake🥺

you didn’t know what he meant, feelings for who?

and that was because you had them for katsuki. like, a whole lot.

he may be an angry pomeranian, but he’s your favorite pomeranian😌❤️

everyone is so confused. how did you- a wonderful human being, so delicate and graceful, had fallen for katsuki??? nobody knew, and nobody judged.

because they knew, it was you who was falling in love🥺 so they were supportive.

remember that one dance the bakusquad and uraraka did when they got through the exam? that was exactly what they did when you told them about you liking him

i mean,,, that boy looks at you from afar during class. he chooses to watch your quirk develop during training. he goes quiet when he sees you.

like cue him screaming at both kaminari and sero. then you come in, and he goes all silent. he doesn’t say a word. just this peaceful look on his face

you know, the soft face bakugou makes when he thinks?? that one. only you had that switch

alright, he’s had enough. he’s gonna square up, walk right up to you, and say, “yeah i like you. what about it?”

easy right?

no. he was a trembling meSS. it was his first proposal thingy!! being nervous is normal,duh.

screams into the night, thinking of the words to tell you. he messes up and the whole world (namely the bakusquad) go crazy on him.

he’s gonna do it. and so the next day was a fresh start for him. walked up to you.

god, were you a glimmering beauty.

“what is it? you seemed a little riled up lately. you okay?” you asked, genuinely concerned with his face.

“ilikeyou,” he mumbles. and you go, “huh? sorry katsu, can you please-“

“y/n i have feelings for you! hear me?”

you were just there, like :0

“i don’t do stuff like this. just get it over with if you don’t feel the same.”

“hey, hey! i r-really like you too! i was just finding a way to let you know... but i guess i didn’t have to.”

“ha, well look who won,” baby boy smirks.

dude he’s so happy his heart was doing somersaults

he didn’t mind if your relationship was a secret or not; you were his anyway. but it was for a little while. he made sure you felt comfortable

the little dance comes along again from the four of them

you two love training together! he makes sure you’re doing it right and he allows you to correct him too. only you🤭💕

i’d like to think that he would stop calling you names like dumbass, or idiot. maybe it would turn to baby or babygirl. babe. hottie. sweet names for his s/o

dates with him are wholesome. carnival, a little cafe, movies. he takes you to the beach during sunset if you’re feeling down

then he gets you these gifts you could forever cherish😭

would definitely hold hands with you. tough guy game🥺👉👈

so far, he loves it when you ruffle his hair. heck, he doesn’t care at all when you do it in front of anyone. he just gives this stupid grin which says, “look at my baby.”

flusters when you hug him out of nowhere,though🤪

when nobody’s looking/during school hours, he gives quick pecks. nothing more, nothing less.

kisses with katsuki are rich in passion and devotion. you know what he means with every one he gives you. the first time he kissed you probably happened during a warm cozy night in with him, in your room. he wouldn’t ask. it was just like a surprise.

“babe.”

his heart beated faster than a race car. you replied, “hm? what is it?”

pecks your lips and pretends like it was nothing. you smirked, holding his chin.

“what? i just..tried? don’t look at me like that.”

“but you didn’t say for how long.”

“clever.” he said as you brought his face near yours.

you had to admit, you weren’t so brave. but seeing this boy blush after his usual screamo days boost you up. so you did it. you sealed it off with a kiss. this time, a longer one.

you breathed in his light caramel scent- now lingering on your clothes as he pulled you in his embrace. his fingers slowly intertwined in yours.

momentary bliss part 3 (god i love these so far)

all in all, i would forever believe his s/o is the only one who can see his soft side. katsuki makes sure to treat you well like never before❤️

shinsou💜

very, very nonchalant about his feelings for you

but he had to control the way he almost tried to swoon around you oh my god

you two have conversations as usual, it’s nice talking to him. he opens up to a whole new version of him that you rarely see.

he had no idea you had a crush on him too sksjdkd

this man is so stoic, he technically holds it all in when talking to you. (which of course, is the cutest thing in the whole world)

hitoshi may have actually been worried about the things people have told him. how they might have talked behind his back. avoided him because of his quirk.

but when it came to you, it all changed. you weren’t running away. you didn’t flinch at his sight. most of all, you were just being you.

like shoto, i don’t think anyone would expect him to fall for you or vice versa. hence, when they found out, it would be a surprise🥰

mans gotta plan this whole thing for weeks because you’re too perfect to lose😤

your classmates had to make you talk to him just because you were so shy hhhh

he texted you one day, wanting to meet you. you were freaking out, but still prepped for what was about to be the best day of your life

the sun was slowly setting. you meet him in a park nearby. he was standing next to the lamp post, looking through his phone.

he looked so good in his dark blue flannel, with his white t-shirt and black jeans. his hair was tucked back with a headband.(he was already handsome, so take this😤💜💜)

“sorry, had to call you out like this.”

“no, it’s fine! what’s up?”

deep breaths..! “um, y/n. i find you really-i just... argh what am i doing..? i really like you and-“

he placed a hand on his neck. “i don’t know how to put it to words. but i absolutely want to be with you. for a really long time. it sounds weird, but you mean so much to me”

your vision was blurry. you didn’t realise that you were letting the feels hit so easily

“hitoshi, i get it all.”

“you...do?”

“because i feel the same as you.”

this cute grin (inherited by aizawa) when he heard those words. “come here,” he said, pulling you into a hug.

and so it began, a beautiful relationship.

you two shared so much with each other. it was like watching puzzle pieces fit in perfectly.

he listens to every problem you have and you do the same. it’s always equality in the house. one never goes down or up. it’s always together🥰

10/10 would train with you to develop your quirk. he wants you to join the journey

pda is fine with him, holding hands should do! might as well surprise you with back hugs🤪 and then he lifts you, spins you around until you beg him to stop.

only you can take care of his sleep schedule.

sometimes he comes to school without any sleep and you blow up

“what did i tell you?”

“i had six cups of coffee. no big deal.”

“how-“

he shows you pictures of his cats😭😭💜 he has so many

he is the cat himself so he likes to nuzzle up when you both cuddle. and it’s a must for you to run your fingers through his soft locks😌

when he’s the big spoon, prepare yourself for some wholesome content.

praises you 24/7, tickle fights, boops your nose, little naps

hitoshi enjoys kisses on the neck too! whether it’s height difference or not,,, he reaches for the neck because this boy KNOWS your sensitive spots.🤭

when he goes in for it, he wants it to be a memory.a priceless, flavorful one he leaves with you which is hard to forget.

fun fact: kiss him on the jawline and you’re already making him weAK

but if it’s a subtle one, he would go for the face. any parts of it-cheek, forehead, bottom of your lips.

one fine day he just has you against the wall and you’re just standing there, a blushing mess.

“close your eyes.”

“w-why..?? are you about to steal kisses from me,toshi?”

“maybe, kitten. but you have to tell me if you trust me.”

you closed your eyes, and he cupped your face with his hands. he brought your face up to his, slowly connecting your lips. the last thing he’d want was to scare you

he felt you smile in between the kiss. you didn’t hesitate, didn’t pull away. in fact, you were more than happy by just returning it. his hand travelled down to your thigh, bringing it up to his waist.

his head was dizzy with euphoria. you were such a good kisser, damn. when he let go, both of you were breathless.

“i do trust you,silly.”

yES IT WAS momentary bliss part four babyyyy

hitoshi defines a godly amount of,,,heat. just,,,he’s hot. and cute. perfect.

(a/n): ayee i did it!!! slight nsfw/nsfw work is reallyyy not my thing so i hope this was a fun read!!! jekskd fun fact scenarios are my fav thing to write🥰

#bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #todoroki x reader #shinsou x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #shinsou hitoshi #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #hitoshi x reader

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127-mile · 5 years ago

Text

Paris by night.

Pairing: Doyoung x reader. (ft.Johnny)

Genre: Love at first sight (not really), inspired by the underground cinema found by the police in the catacombs of Paris in 2004 / fluff, angst if you squint.

Warnings: Non-explicit mention of deaths, mention of bones, one non-explicit mention of animal sacrifices, careless use of a ouija board, haunting, voices.

Plot: Doyoung has two days to spend in Paris before returning to Chicago, and he decides to let a friend drag him to visit the Catacombs. Love, fear and a little bit of chaos ensue.

Word count: +3.5k.

A/N: This is part of my Something in the Shadow halloween special. To my scaredy cats out there, this is not scary.

"Kim Doyoung!" the door to the hotel room swings open, and he knows he should have locked it when he got in earlier, but he was too lazy. He's snuggled up in bed, and he covers his face with a pillow, but that only strengthens Johnny's need. He throws himself on the bed next to him, and he slides closer. "Why aren't you ready?" he asks, and the younger shakes his head. "I'm not going out. You dragged me through Paris all day, I want to sleep. Do you understand that? Sleep!"

"Come on Doie, we might not have the chance to come to Paris for a while, don't you want to take advantage of it?" Johnny asks, and Doyoung shakes his head once more. “You're the idiot who decided to buy cheap plane tickets to make sure we had a stopover in Paris. I didn't ask for anything, so let me sleep!” Johnny really doesn't agree with Doyoung, so he gets out of bed and grabs his wrists to sit him up. "Come with me, please." when Doyoung finally looks at him, he gives him his best puppy eyes, and he pouts. Fucker. "Please Doie, you know how much I love Paris. And how am I supposed to enjoy it without my best friend."

Doyoung whines loudly, and Johnny knows he's won. "Come on, put on something warm." he helps his best friend get back on his feet, and he even opens his suitcase to get out some pants and a hoodie, he's going to need them. "Where are we going?" Doyoung mumbles and Johnny grins. "It's a surprise, but I'm sure you'll love it!"

When Doyoung is dressed, Johnny forces him out of his hotel room before he decides to go back to bed. In the elevator, Johnny can barely contain his excitement, and Doyoung has to put his hand on his arm to stop him from hopping too much. "I don't want to be stuck in the elevator." he says in a low voice, and Johnny nods. "Sorry."

"Wait there." Johnny tells him, and he walks over to the counter where the secretary gives him a nice smile. "Bonsoir! We're going out, and we might come back late, will we still be allowed to enter the hotel?" he tilts his head, and it takes a minute for the woman to understand before nodding. "There is a bell near the door. We will come and open the door for you, at any time. Enjoy Paris."

When the two boys leave the hotel, a car is already waiting for them. Johnny gets on first, and Doyoung follows him, greeting the driver. "1 Avenue du Colonel Henri Rol-Tanguy please." Johnny says in very rough French and the man behind the wheel nods. The drive takes about ten minutes, and Doyoung is too busy looking at the lights behind the window that he doesn't think of the address Johnny gave. He won't say anything to him anyway, he has to be patient.

When the car stops, Johnny pays the driver, and he thanks him with a big smile. It's not every day that the driver deals with such a nice man, especially in Paris. "Where are we?" Doyoung asks, looking around. Several people are in line, and they all look excited. Before Johnny answers him, he stands behind the last person, and he holds Doyoung's arm. He doesn't want to see him run away when he tells him where they are. "We are going to visit the catacombs of Paris!"

The catacombs, Doyoung thinks. He has already heard of the catacombs of Paris, but he no longer knows why, or where. "Normally visits are prohibited during the night, but today is a special day, so I had to buy tickets!" The only signs that indicate where he is are in French, and he is not good enough to understand all the lines. "Is it a museum?" Doyoung dares to ask, and he turns white when Johnny shakes his head.

"A veritable labyrinth in the heart of underground Paris, a unique site in former quarry galleries. Open to the public in 1809, the largest ossuary in the world houses the remains of several million Parisians as the cemeteries from Paris closed down." Johnny reads from the phone he is holding in his hand, and Doyoung shakes his head. He takes a step back, and is about to come out of the line when Johnny catches up with him. "Don't leave. It'll be funny."

"Funny? Visiting a place full dead, and most likely haunted, do you find that funny?" Doyoung asks, panicked, which is not the case of Johnny who laughs. "Most likely haunted? Doie it's one of the most haunted places in France." It is too much for Doyoung, he cannot stay there. Yes, he likes to watch horror movies from time to time to please Johnny, but this is too much for him.

"Doyoung, listen to me." Johnny puts his hand on his shoulder, and rather than pulling away, he looks up at Johnny who is smiling reassuringly at him. "We will not be alone in the catacombs. We have a guide. Nothing is going to happen to you. You are not going to get lost. Tell yourself that the French are fond of ghost stories, and that the rumors of this place being haunted are certainly wrong. Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing is going to happen to us. We are going to visit, have a good time, and then we will go and eat somewhere."

Doyoung takes a deep breath, and he nods. He's drawing attention to himself, and he doesn't want that. "Okay, I trust you. But no funny business, okay? You stay next to me, and you don't scare me on purpose!" Johnny raises his right hand, and very solemnly he says, "I swear."

That's when you step out onto the streets, ready to take charge of a new group of tourists ready for an incredible and frightening experience. "Good evening everyone. Can I have your attention, please? Hi, my name is Y/n, and I'll be your guide for the night." Fortunately, all eyes are on you and you smile. It's not every day that this happens, most of the time you have to deal with young idiots who want nothing but to be afraid, and refuse to listen to you.

"Perfect, we'll check your tickets, and we can start the tour." you explain, and you push yourself to let the first tourists in. You observe the tourists one after the other, but your gaze lingers on one of them. He hasn't entered yet and yet his hands are shaking though he tries to control them, and his friend next to him seems to whisper reassuring words, and you can only chuckle softly.

You started working in the catacombs when you were quite young, so you're not afraid anymore, you're immune to anything that might happen to you there. But you're not mocking anyone, you were on the edge the first few visits you had to make without really knowing what to expect, so you understand.

When the boy and his friend stop near you, you turn to them. "Are you okay?" you ask the boy who is slightly startled, and you bite your lower lip so as not to laugh. "Are you sure you want to visit? Because once you get in, you won't be able to get out until the end of the tour." the boy nods, suddenly seized with a dose of confidence, and that's reassuring. "Yes, I can do it!"

"Perfect then." it's their turn to come in, and you wink at him. "Don't worry, I'll take special care of you." you notice that the boy's cheeks blush even in the darkness, and that makes you pretty proud. You always have a tourist whom you pay special attention to, or whom you turn to more than others to talk and relax, and tonight, it will be Doyoung. And he's an extremely handsome boy, so that helps. Johnny nudges Doyoung, and the boy mumbles for him to stop, embarrassed. "See! You've already caught the guide's eye! That's my boy!"

You enter when the last visitors have entered, and they are all waiting. You approach, and you clear your throat to get everyone's attention on you. “Before we go down, we'll discuss the rules. There are 131 steps to go down, and 112 to go back up, so if you want to give up, it's now, you can't turn around on the stairs. No eating or drinking during the visit. You can take pictures, but the flash is forbidden And of course you don't touch the bones, they are human beings down there, respect is in order. If you don't play by the rules, I'll let you get lost."

Legally, you are not allowed to let a tourist get lost in the catacombs, but it is tempting to do so when some are unable to abide by rules as simple as the ones you just gave them. "Can we go?" several heads nod, and you smile. Nobody gave up on the idea of the steps, so it's a small victory for you.

Another guide joins you to close the path on the stairs, and to make sure that no one falls while your back is turned. You laugh when you arrive at the bottom of the last step, and the plowed breaths of the tourists are echoing against the walls of the underground quarries. "Is everyone still alive?" you ask, and several "yes" are heard. "Perfect!"

"And is my favorite visitor still alive?" you ask while turning. You don't see him, but you see the top of his friend's blond head. "Still alive! I think so." Johnny answers, and you smile. “Before we continue to the ossuary, I am going to ask you not to speak too loudly, or to shout, no matter what. If you hear voices, do not be afraid, the walls are just talking, do not take it seriously, and do not let them take you away from the group."

The experiences are different from person to person. Some will say they have heard voices trying to get them lost, and others will say quiet voices that remind them to stay close to the other. Maybe that's what you like best about all of this, hearing the visitors talk about what they experienced down there, what they felt, what they heard.

You start to walk through the ossuary, and you open your mouth. It's good to visit, but it's also good to learn more about this place. “At the end of the 18th century, major health problems linked to the city's cemeteries led to the decision to transfer their contents underground. The Parisian authorities chose an easily accessible site, then located outside the capital: the old quarries de la Tombe-Issoire, under the plain of Montrouge. The first evacuations took place from 1785 to 1787 and affected the most important cemetery in Paris, the Saints-Innocents."

You are always surprised when you hear nothing while explaining the history of the catacombs. When you don't hear visitors talking to each other, and it's always a pride to know that they are listening to you, or that even if they don't care, that they have enough respect not to interrupt. "The bones, previously left loose, are carefully organized in the walls, on the model of quarrymen's hagues. On the front, the rows of shins alternate with those of skulls, while behind the facings pile up the remaining bones, often very fragmented by the consequences of their fall."

"Excuse me?" You turn, and smile when your gaze lands on Doyoung. His hand is raised, and Johnny is hiding behind his hands. Is he embarrassed? Certainly. "Yes, what's up?" you say, and the boy nods. "How many bodies are in the catacombs?" a smart question, you like it.

"There are 6 million skeletons stored in the catacombs ossuary, which is about 3 times more than Parisians!" he opens his eyes wide, genuinely interested in what you have to say. "Oh yeah, that's a lot!" you nod your head. "The Municipal Ossuary of the Catacombs is one of the largest ossuaries in the world" he opens his mouth with a silent "wow" and you roll your eyes.

The visit lasts about an hour, and when you announce a break, the visitors are all more or less relieved. "Normally the tour should be over, but tonight is a special night, so we'll be staying downstairs for a couple more hours." you make your way to Doyoung who is talking to Johnny, a big smile on his face.

"You look more relaxed than earlier." you say, and the boy turns to you. "Yes, it's not scary at all! It was really, really interesting to learn all of this, I'm glad I came." Johnny is proud of him, because he is the reason he didn't run away through the dark streets of Paris. "You didn't find it scary? Glad to hear that, but the rest might be."

Suddenly Doyoung's confidence disappears, and you put your hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll stay with you." once again, your wink makes him blush, and you group the visitors together. "Follow me, but be careful where you step." the place where you direct them is normally closed to visitors. It is dangerous, and the stones are more important and can cause accidents.

"Before I show you what we have prepared for you, I have something to tell you. A man got lost in the catacombs a long time ago, and it took eleven years to find his body. It is said that once a year, on this precise date, at midnight, he tries to be heard." you explain, and visitors are captivated. Some smile, while others seem to be scared. Exactly what you wanted.

"But we're not going to wait for him like that. So .." you lead them a little deeper into the catacombs until you get to an empty gallery. There is no bone, nothing. Just seats on the floor, and blankets that face a screen. It was hard to get the electric company to help you get the cables down here, but you made it happen.

"Get comfortable!" the second guide prepares the film, and you watch him do it, arms crossed against your chest. Without the lights that are constantly on, this part of the catacombs is much cooler, and you wish you had a scarf or another hoodie. "There is no better place than the catacombs to watch As above, so below!"

The film is of course a horror film with the catacombs as a subject, that's why you chose it. It's one of your favorite movies, so that's great. Before the lights go out, you find an empty seat, next to your favorite little visitor. "Do you like horror movies?" you ask him, and he shrugs. "Not really." Johnny laughs softly, he's delighted. "His name is Doyoung by the way." you nod your head, that's a very good information. "So Doyoung, if you're scared, you can take my hand."

The film begins, and silence falls.

The voices echo against the walls, which gives another dimension to the film. You would never have had this idea if you had not heard several of your colleagues talk about this story which happened in 2004. Police officers decided to visit this part of the catacombs which was not open to the public, and they found an underground cinema, and even a restaurant. Of course, the next day it was all gone, but it was that story that brought you to organize this little soirée.

You smile when you hear a visitor jump because of the film, or because of the noises in the catacombs. Doyoung, next to you, tenses from time to time, and he even grabs your thigh without realizing it. You don't say anything, you don't want to embarrass him more. You tease him, yes, but you don't want to be mean, that's not right.

All eyes are on the entrance to the gallery when footsteps are heard. It's starting, you think. Of course, it is only a rumor that on this precise date the butler goes out, and sometimes the imagination of the visitors has a lot to do with it, but you are not going to lie, you have had several strange experiences because of him, or any spirit that haunts the galleries of the catacombs. No wonder, with 6 million bodies.

"What is that?" a little voice asks, and you shrug your shoulders even though they can't see you. "It's definitely the man who wants to see who dares to disturb him on his one night out. Don't worry, even when he catches someone, we always find them before the wee hours of the morning." you explain, and several gasps are heard. The other guide turns to you and raises his thumb up.

"Have you ever had to experience anything by anyone other than this man?" another person asks, and you smile. The film is quickly forgotten, the visitors far too curious, and you don't mind, it's not every day that you have the opportunity to share your experience with people who really want to know. "If the catacombs are considered to be one of the most haunted places in France, it's not just because of the 6 million bodies piling up in the walls, but because strange things have happened."

You stay silent for a moment to weigh your words. Doyoung's hand lands on yours, and you squeeze it gently. "Before visits were allowed, it was easy to sneak into the catacombs through sewers all over Paris. So onlookers would come to have illegal parties, and sometimes even cults would come to sacrifice animals in the name of the devil." you catch your breath, the air is very dry here. "Of course, we also have the young idiots who come down with a ouija board and decide to try and speak to someone or something, and who leave without finishing the session because they get scared."

You sigh softly. “Ouija boards are a lot of fun, but they have to be taken seriously, because they bring in guests that we don't want to deal with. Some guides say they have dealt with visitors who got lost and were never found. We found several cameras in the middle of the galleries with videos showing strange things before the owners disappeared."

You are about to speak when a scream echoes and makes all the visitors jump, you included. You get up to turn on the light, and you barely have time to see a girl leaving the gallery, alone, her hands pressed against her ears. "I'll go get her, bring the others up." the other guide tells you, and you nod your head. Visitors are obviously scared, but you try to make them calm down. "It does happen, don't worry. He's going to bring her back to the surface. It's time for us to go."

You're disappointed that it ended like this, because you liked the mood the discussion had taken, but you know it wouldn't be resonable. "What happened?" Doyoung then asks that you turn off the movie, and you shrug your shoulders. "The walls are talking, I said this earlier, so she must have been overwhelmed."

It doesn't take long for the visitors to walk back up to the stairs you first climb. The door opens, and the director is surprised to see you come back up so quickly, he thought the movie wouldn't be over for a good half hour, but you shrug your shoulders at his silent question. "The walls." you just explain, and he nods.

You go out into the street, and you take a deep breath of fresh air. It feels good. "Despite this somewhat abrupt end, I hope you all enjoyed the visit, and will come back." you say, and several people nod their heads, and they thank you before taking their leave. Johnny and Doyoung are the last ones in the street, and when you turn to them, Doyoung nervously plays with his fingers.

"You didn't want to come, and now you don't want to leave?" you ask, and he chuckles softly. Johnny pulls back to give you some privacy. "Uh, this is going to sound weird to you, but I wanted to know if you wanted to go eat something with us? And maybe have a coffee tomorrow? I'm leaving Paris tomorrow night." it's a shame, you think, you wish you had more time to get to know him, but all good things always come to an end. "I'd love this."

Of course, the other guide found the girl. She was shaken, but fine.

#kdiner #nct #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #nct scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung

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spideyfic · 4 years ago

Text

As You Walk on By (Will You Call My Name?)

Peter Parker made a deal with the Devil and now he's paying his dues.

(A purely speculative fic based on the set pictures from today)

He walks down Manhattan Avenue, snowflakes settling in his hair as he alternates between checking the building numbers and the address written on the piece of paper he holds. He’s not really familiar with Brooklyn, but the Brooklyn Daily Eagle ran an article about the holiday window art in a donut shop called Peter Pan, crediting the artist as Michelle Jones, and his heart had jumped right up into his throat.

He’s wearing Ben’s old jacket with the broken zip that has to be twenty years old, the padding bunched awkwardly in the back where May had tried to save money on dry cleaning by throwing it in the washing machine, and he should be cold, but he’s flushed with nervy excitement.

He knows this probably isn’t a good idea.

But he’s doing it anyway.

It feels strange to be walking down the street as Peter Parker without anyone batting an eyelid, after six months of being public enemy number one. Spider-Man might still be wanted, but Peter Parker is just a dorky loner wanted by nobody other than his Aunt May.

He finally sees the bakery, recognizes MJ’s artwork in the windows. There’s a penguin holding a menorah, and it makes him pause for a moment, remembering the hand-drawn Chanukah card she’d given him the first holiday after the Blip, featuring very same penguin. But then he sees her through the window, placing fresh donnuts on a tray, and he’s overcome with the need to see her again. He takes five big strides and yanks the door open, practically bursting into the store.

MJ looks up as he walks in, raising an eyebrow. She’s wearing a look of disinterest and a long, white sleeved tee under a truly hideous mint green tunic with a pink collar and cuffs. “What can I do for you?”

She’s there right in front of him, alive and well, and it’s almost overwhelming. He suddenly regrets coming to find her, her lack of recognition cutting him to the core, but he’s here now, staring at her with his mouth gaping open like he’s some kind of dumbass fish, so he squints at the menu behind her. “Uh – a small Ho Ho Ho hot chocolate to go, please.”

She fills a cup with chocolate powder and milk, holding it under the steamer. “Hey, you go to Midtown, right?” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “You’re in B stream.”

That’s news to him, but he rolls with it. “Yeah. Peter. I mean, I’m Peter Parker.”

“Alliterative,” she says approvingly. “I’m Michelle.” She finishes steaming the hot chocolate and holds up a can of whipped cream. “Cream?” she asks, shaking the can when he nods and squirting a generous amount on top of the chocolate before sprinkling it with crushed peppermints. “Do you want any donuts? Maybe a bagel?” She clicks the lid down on his drink and places it on top of the display cabinet.

The hot chocolate has already blown his budget, but he looks at the five-dollar donuts anyway. A red one catches his eye, decorated with a spider web. “Hey, is that a Spider-Man donut?” he says. “Do you guys support him?”

“We’re pro-Spidey,” she confirms. “The proceeds from that donut go to the Citizens to Defend Spidey fund.”

There goes the rest of his budget. “I’ll take two – Spidey-Nuts?” He squints at the label, thinking – hoping – he’s read it wrong, but nope, Spidey-Nut is there in the neat, flowing handwriting he recognizes as MJ’s. “You remembered the hyphen,” he says weakly, trying not to die of mortification.

“The hyphen is important,” she says seriously, wrapping two donuts in waxed paper and dropping them into a bag that he crams into one of his jacket pockets. “That’s $15.” As she holds out the payment terminal for him to tap his card, he spots a necklace – the necklace – in the vee of her tunic. He has no idea why it exists in this reality, but he’s glad it does. It reassures him that the last three years of his life weren’t some kind of fever dream.

“I like your necklace,” he says, and she reflexively looks down, hooking the chain with her thumb to let the broken pendant dangle. “A black dahlia, right? Like the murder?”

She smiles then, the shy grin she’d given him on Tower bridge, six months and an unaltered reality ago. “How did you know?”

“I used to know someone was into true crime,” he says, making himself look up from her softly curving lips to meet her gaze. “How come it’s broken?”

She shrugs, tucking it back under her tunic. “I don’t actually know? I just found it on my desk. I kind of like it better broken, though. I don’t know its story, but it feels – special, somehow.”

It’s suddenly all too much and he knows he has to get out of there. “I gotta go,” he mumbles, taking his cup. “Thanks.”

MJ looks startled. “OK. Maybe I’ll see you at school?”

“Maybe.” He summons a half-hearted smile and leaves the store as quickly as he entered, the cup clutched in his hand. He drops it in the trash without even taking a sip.

He feels sick, can’t stand that MJ looked at him like he was basically a stranger. But the alternative – MJ bleeding out in his arms, her last breath used to murmur his name – is far, far worse, and he would rather have her alive and not part of his life, than dead, all her passion and intelligence and compassion snuffed out in a moment.

He rewrote reality for her.

He erased any memory anyone in the world had of Peter Parker being Spider-Man to make sure she lived.

He made a deal with the Devil to save her life, and now he was paying his dues.

***

MJ locks the door and flips over the back in five! sign before she heads out to the back of the store. She doesn’t know why, but she feels out of step, discombobulated, like something in the universe had shifted that she wasn’t quite aware of. “Hey, Ned?” she says, stepping into the prep room.

Ned looks up, his hands sunk deep into a ball of dough. “You OK?” he says, his eyebrows knit in concern. “You look weird.”

She sits on a battered stool, tucking her feet behind the bar at the base. “That quiet kid from school just came in,” she says, holding her necklace between thumb and forefinger and twisting it mindlessly back and forth. “The one who wears all the geeky science tees.”

“Peter?” Ned rubs his palms together over the sink, sloughing off little balls of dough before washing his hands thoroughly. “We used to be friends when we were kids, but then his parents died and he moved schools in second grade. I tried talking to him when he started Midtown but he’s like super shy.”

“I feel like I know him,” she says. “There was this – I don’t know, it was like a connection.” She doesn’t tell Ned that she thinks Peter is cute, or that his dark eyes and sweet smile had made her pulse quicken.

He smirks anyway; he’s not her best friend for nothing. “We should talk to him at school,” he tells her, drying his hands on a paper towel. “I saw him wearing a Star Wars shirt before Christmas break. I need someone in my life that appreciates the greatest cinematic franchise of all time.”

Ned’s her absolute favorite nerd. He’s the easiest person in the world to be friends with – he’s all sweet, open affection, the perfect counterpoint to her more closed-off nature, and his kindness is infectious. She’d usually rib him about the Star Wars comment, but she gives him a pass this time, because he’s being all earnest and shit, and making friends with Peter Parker seems somehow inevitable.

“Yeah,” she says, contemplative. “Yeah, we should do that.”

Ned gives her one of his beaming, toothy smiles and pats her shoulder. “First day back, we’ll sit with him at lunch,” he says, returning to his kneading. “He always looks like he needs a friend.”

MJ watches him work, her mind still on the boy who’d burst through the door and looked at her like he’d found a long-lost treasure.

Peter Parker was a mystery.

She wanted to solve him.

#my fic #post spider-man far from home #peter parker x michelle jones #peter x mj

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Something Just Like This - CH05

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Angst, doubt, sadness a little. But also fucking fluff.

WC: 3575

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Winchester! You got a cigarette?” Milligan’s voice was clear in his ear. “Please, I need one.”

“No, man.” Dean shook his head. “But hold on, Milligan. You’re going to be alright. We will get you out of here.”

Dean blinks.

He’s back.

He’s still driving. A single tear streaks down his face and he jerks himself more awake from his daydream. His hand comes up to brush the tear away from his cheek.

Dean thinks about calling Charlie as he drives towards the bunker. He needs to make a pitstop and clean himself from the dirt of having killed a man, and needs to shower off the guilt. It usually doesn’t work. It never did. But at least there will be no blood of a dead man on any part of him or on his clothes left.

When he kills people, he doesn’t think about them as humans. He can’t let himself go there. Dean can’t say that he enjoys it either though, can’t say that he’s not dying a little on the inside every time he takes out someone. Even if they are the lowest sort of scumbags.

He never could take it lightly.

Not when he was at war, where killing enemies was demanded from him.

Not now, when he does it to protect his business, his family, his pride.

He’ll never get used to it and honestly, he’d rather not do the dirty work but also he doesn’t want anyone to have to bear the burden. At least not someone he’s close to, like Cas or Sam. Cas did kill people for him, but mostly it was also for Cas himself. But Sam? Nah, Dean would rather die than let Sammy do that kind of dirty work.

Sometimes, when he’s plagued by subsequent nightmares and has a hard time to even take his mind off them in the times he’s awake, Dean often finds himself asking if this was all worth it. If the life he chose to live was worth the effort, worth the sleepless nights, worth the sacrifices, the blood, the sweat and the tears.

But the answer was always yes . Because Sam’s in it. Because Sam’s gonna open up a law firm. Because Sam’s going to get out of this life. Because Sammy deserves everything good, even if it meant that Dean has to give everything he has in order for Sam to be happy. And Dean is ready to do that for Sammy, always had, always will.

And who knows? Maybe, if Dean’s lucky, his whole plan will work out after all.

He didn’t tell Sam yet — in fact, he didn’t tell anyone about his plan. Dean sometimes wishes for nothing more than to go legal. Maybe go into shipping and trading. Not narcotic substances, not illegal arms. Legal things, like a normal person, a normal business owner of a fucking family business. Do something he doesn’t have to break the law for. It’s just a dream, though. He knows that there’s no escape from reality. Not for someone in his position. Because who would he be then? They’d think that he’s weak. A wimp. A goddamn failure. Nobody walks out of here, especially not after what his father went through to keep the organization going and growing.

Before Dean went to Afghanistan, he actually quite enjoyed the life he had. Fast cars, frisky women, being respected. He had everything. He was cocky and narcissistic back then, thought that he could have it all and so much more. He signed up to be deployed because he thought that he has got something to prove. Proving to himself that nothing could bring him down. Proving to all the others, that he can come back unscattered and reign over them. He thought that once he’s back, people would respect him more because back then, they thought that he would never be able to take over.

Life changed drastically after a couple of days at COP Keating. He was being the one to get shot at and not the other way around. He was the one to take orders and not the other way around. He didn’t get along with his mates, didn’t want to join in and distanced himself. He never really had any friends because they all thought that he was stuck up. They weren’t really wrong, he guesses.

Dean never thought he’d get to come back with all his limbs still attached to him — let alone coming back alive.

War changed him. Changed his view of life and he often asked himself what he did it for, sometimes wished that he was the one dead and not his friends. But when he got out of the plane as they arrived back, he saw Sam waiting with a bright smile on his face and waving at him, Dean knew that he did it all for Sam. And yes, it was all worth it. Sam wailed like a baby when the President placed the medal around his neck, which Dean still thinks that he didn’t deserve at all. He just did his duty, really.

So yeah, this life sucks you in and will spit you out when you’re dead. Sometimes the dead part happens sooner rather than later. You never know.

Dean knows that he probably — most definitely — can’t win in this life. Maybe in the next.

He dials Charlie’s number and waits.

Charlie picks up at the second ring.

“Hey, my favorite Winchester,” She says and Dean smiles at the sound of Charlie’s voice. She’s always so cheerful.

“I bet you say that to Sammy, too.” Dean chuckles lightly.

“Me? Naaaah,” Charlie laughs now, loud and bright.

“I don’t believe you,”

“Yeah, yeah. You saw it?” She’s changing the subject quickly, knowing that Dean called her up to ask about the things he asked her to pick up for him.

“I haven’t been to the bunker yet. Just wanna ask if you did get it.”

“Got everything. How did you get the shoe size?”

“Ash,” Dean breathes out.

“Oh my god, I don’t even wanna know,” Charlie groans.

“Nope, I don’t wanna know either.” Dean feels second hand embarrassment when he thinks of it. Knowing Ash, he probably didn’t ask for it smoothly.

“Anyway, it’s in the bunker. Let me know if it fits.”

“I will. Thanks, Charlie.”

“You’re welcome, big guy.”

Dean hangs up and pushes his phone back into his pants pocket. He flips his wrist to be able to look at his watch. It’s not yet 10PM. If he hurries, he could make it there before her shift ends.

Y/N taps a beer when strong hands grab at her arm and pull her away swiftly, but the pressure on her arm is still gentle, which is weird and she didn’t spill a single drop.

She turns to look who it is, thinks about throwing the beer in the face of whoever thought that pulling her away from her work would be such a good idea when she can club them over the head with a full pint.

Her eyes meet a chest. She looks up from the neat dress shirt, trails her eyes past the scruff, almost freezes at the plump lips that’s widened by a smirk, but she wills herself to go on because she has a great idea who it is. Her eyes meet his green ones and the crinkles around them are deep and — not going to lie — mesmerizing.

“Hi,” It rumbles from his chest and she could literally feel the bass of his voice vibrating in her bones. It was loud in the bar but she could hear him clearly.

“Hi,” Y/N says, shy all of a sudden. Thinks that she’s blushing, but how could she not.

He leans down, the tip of his nose brushes against her temple and it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up while goosebumps spread on her arm. “Think you can take a break?”

She looks at the line of people surrounding the bar, shakes her head no, “I don’t think so,”

Dean chuckles before he produces a bag which he probably had hidden behind his back. Y/N doesn’t know, but she can’t explain how a bag materializes in front of him. “Don’t worry, me and Ash will take over. You go back and see if this is alright.”

“What?”

“You remember the opening party?” He raises an eyebrow, and she sees the doubt in his eyes.

She pretends to think hard, the creases on her forehead deepening. She let the clock tick, thinks of stretching the moment out, just for good measure, before she answers. “Yeah?”

He relaxes, and she thinks it’s funny how she could wind him up.

“It’s in two days. Got you something.”

“You did what? I didn’t even ask Ellen yet if I could get the night off,” Y/N begins to say, because it’s true. She didn’t expect it to be so soon. He just asked her what? Two days ago? And said that they’re still figuring out the date?

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Ellen.” He’s still holding out the bag for her to take.

She looks at the people who are still waiting on being served. “But—”

“—Jesus, Y/N, just go, alright? I asked Ash. You can use his room.” He points his chin towards the back door and she sees Ash walking behind the bar too now, with a stupid grin on his face.

“Oh, okay.” Y/N nods, and places the pint onto the counter top before taking the bag from Dean’s hand. Their fingers brush for a brief moment and there’s a flutter in her chest.

Damn her chest. It has no business to be fluttering right now.

She searches for Dean’s eyes before she goes, as if she needs reassurance. He winks at her as he takes off his suit jacket, folding the sleeves of his dress shirt back. “Go! Trust us. You can take your time.”

Y/N can already see Ash taking orders before she nods again and slips through the door.

Y/N closes the door to Ash’s room. Locking it up, just in case. She takes a look around before she drops the bag on the floor and walks over to Ash’s laptop. She can’t make it too obvious, doesn’t want to try to type in a password, fearing Ash has some tracking device on his laptop and would notice someone logging in when he’s not around.

She opts to take out her phone instead, taking pictures of Ash’s room, especially his desk, and of the many scribbles of loose sheets of paper scattered around. That way she won’t be gone too long too, and she won’t raise any suspicions. It’s not her job to decipher or to dig too deep anyway, they have great people in the bureau. Her job is to deliver new intel while their job is to dig deeper from the bits and pieces she sends them.

After she’s done her other ‘work’, she takes the bag and peeks in. There are two more bags in the big one and she reaches for the first one. She takes it out and smiles when she sees what it is.

Y/N takes the item out and holds it up in front of her. It’s a red sleeveless couture cocktail dress, with mesh worked into it, a little see through but covered by red flower patterns. She holds it to her chest, and walks to the mirror, lets her hand skim over the fabric. She’s never seen a dress more beautiful and that’s not even a lie.

It’s red. Red. Y/N never wore red. Doesn’t think that red suits her at all. Red is for someone who likes to make a bold statement. Someone who likes to be noticed and seen and if anything, she’s the contrary. In fact, she doesn’t own a piece of clothing in red. She always opted for black, grey, white or navy, something not eye catching. She never felt comfortable being the center of attention.

She smiles to herself through the mirror because she never knew that red would suit her. Nonetheless, she can’t help but wonder how expensive the dress must be. She probably wouldn’t be able to afford it. What the fuck was Dean thinking? She can’t possibly take the dress. Can’t possibly wear it because it’s out of her fucking league.

There’s a note fluttering to the floor. It probably was laid out on the dress and she missed it as she took it out.

Y/N bends down to pick it up.

“I hope it fits. I thought red would look great on you. There are some shoes at the bottom of the bag. If you feel confident enough you could let me see? If not, it’s okay too. — Dean”

She bites on her bottom lip before they spread into a grin.

Y/N shimmies herself out of her jeans and takes off her shirt. The bra too, since it’s see through. She needs to find some nude strapless bra, makes a mental note to go shopping tomorrow before she meets with Linda.

She’s glad she shaved her legs today, that would have been really embarrassing. Not that she should care. Or should she?

She really doesn’t know but decides not to dwell on that super weird feeling in her guts. Instead, she laughs to herself as she pulls the dress over her head and looks into her mirror image.

Wow.

She rubs along the dress, flattens it on her body, still mesmerized and amazed at how great and beautiful it feels on her skin.

It fits her like a glove. How could he know her size?

She stands on her tiptoes, twists and turns, inspecting herself from every possible angle.

Shoes. The notes said something about shoes , she thinks and takes a couple of steps to reach into the bag. Y/N pulls out the other bag and opens up the box.

Red heels, the same color as her dress. Not just a similar color. The exact fucking same.

How?

She places one hand on the desk to keep her balance as she slips into the heels. Her legs feel wobbly in them, she rarely wears heels and these are super high.

Y/N takes a step closer to the mirror, turning herself in front of it. She bites on her bottom lip, suddenly very anxious of wearing it anywhere at all.

She takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.

In and out.

“Okay,” she sighs, “okay.”

It’s more a way to reassure herself because Dean asked if he could see it, and a part of her really wants to show him. It's just that the part that doesn’t want to show him really, really needs convincing.

She closes her eyes, her heart beating fast at the thought of walking out into the bar.

“Here goes nothing,” She murmurs and unlocks the door to Ash’s room.

Dean’s having a conversation going on with one of the patrons and pours himself another whiskey, laughing when the dude told him something funny. He didn’t even notice that the bar went silent, only notices it when all he could hear is some murmuring and his own laughter next to the usual songs playing in the background from the jukebox, and there’s someone whistling.

He looks around, wondering what’s going on and then he sees it.

He sees her.

Standing by the door, the red dress clings to her frame and Dean’s speechless for a moment.

The prettiest fucking thing he ever did see. There’s no other way to describe her.

Not that he didn’t think that she wasn’t cute before but Jesus, she’s beautiful and it’s a pity she doesn’t even know how lovely she is.

She looks around, all flustered and shy like a deer caught in the headlight and Dean almost feels guilty for wanting to have a taste of it. Almost feels guilty for wanting to corrupt her, wanting to feel her legs wrap around him, wants to fucking mark her as his, wonders sometimes, if she blushes as sweetly when he eats her out and makes her come on his cock alone.

Someone was yelling from the back, “Hey, baby, you wanna take a ride—”

“—Shut up!” Dean’s deep voice cuts the dude off and he throws in a malicious look, for good measure.

The one guy at the bar is still whistling and then he licks his lips, “Baby, are you a drill sergeant? Because you have my privates standing at attention.”

The bar erupts with laughter and she looks down to her shoes.

Dean didn’t hesitate to drive his fist into the man’s face. He hears a crack, grins because the dude deserved it.

“Anyone else?” Dean asks and looks around the room before he turns his attention to her.

He walks over, sees her blushing a little, “Come on, let’s go to the back.”

The guy who’s standing next to her opens his mouth to say something. Dean thinks the guy probably has a death wish or way too much to drink because he doesn’t know when to stop, “Those clothes would look great in a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor, baby.”

Dean’s about to strike out when she places her hand on his arm.

“I got this.” She whispers with a smirk and then she does. Y/N takes a step towards the guy and drives her elbow into the man’s jaw.

The guy drops to the floor, wincing and spitting blood.

“Anybody else wants to try their pick up line on me?” She asks the now silent bar and Dean has a really hard time to hold back the laugh that wants to burst out of him.

“No? Good. Because they all suck.” She says and just stands there and waits and Dean thinks she’s ready for anyone who would want to come forward with a stupid remark. When the bar stays silent, she turns around and storms through the door in the back.

Dean only shrugs at the people who were still speechless, before he follows her.

“Winchester’s whipped.” Ash could be heard under his breath before the door closes completely.

“I heard that.” Dean shouts back.

“Good.” Came loudly from the other side, followed by laughter.

Normally, Dean would go out there and probably rip Ash a new hole but she’s walking swiftly down the corridor and he follows, almost bumping into her when she turns around abruptly to face him, her hands are braced on her hips.

“How much was all this?” Y/N asks, gestures with her hands up and down her body.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, really, Dean. How much? I’ll pay you back.” She says, and Dean knows that she means it. Had known from the start when she wouldn’t even take the tip he wanted to leave for her.

“I don’t know.” Dean says and it’s the truth.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Her forehead creases.

“I really don’t know, alright?” Dean chuckles, brushing a hand through the scruff on his jaw. “I just went into the store and told them what I want. They said they needed time to get the right shoes and I had someone pick it up for me. I never asked how much it was, because I didn’t really care!” He runs his hand through his hair.

Dean sees her face softening, there’s even a smirk that’s tugging away at her lips.

“You actually went into a store for this?” She’s grinning now and Dean thinks it’s fucking adorable.

“Yeah?”

“You went into a store.” Y/N’s chuckling, “A women’s store. And bought a dress?”

“Yes?” His eyebrow raises on his forehead.

She laughs. Loud, clear. It’s a beautiful sound.

“Were you embarrassed?”

“Uh,” He’s laughing too, tries to search for the right word, “It was awkward. But it was worth it. You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” Her face flushes, and she quickly turns away. “Alright, I guess it fits. Do I look decent enough for you to take me to the opening like this?”

She walks the couple of steps to Ash’s room, stalling at the door and turns to look back to him.

“I’d take you anywhere, Y/N. Even if you’re dressed in your normal clothes, or a trash bag.” He says truthfully, and now it’s his turn to feel his cheeks heating up.

He doesn’t know why he said it. Doesn’t really know what’s up with him because he feels like he just poured his heart out to her by saying it. Thinks, that if she knew who he really was, how he really was, she wouldn’t let him take her anywhere at all, and he wouldn’t blame her one bit.

“Not— not saying that you’re a bag of trash or anything,” He squints because he’s an idiot and would love to smash his head against the wall right now. Dean clears his throat, “Alright, I need to go help Ash. You take your time.”

“Alright.” She smiles and takes a step into Ash’s room, stops to look back at him. “Thank you, Dean.”

He nods and smiles back, bright and wide, before he turns around and walks through the door to the front.

CH06

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

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aquarius-stories-and-story-ideas · 5 years ago

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(Got this short story idea from @radiodemonstatic. On their blog, Alastor is going through a sort of 'season'. To put it simply, he's wanting to get it on (I was so tempted to word that differently. 😂). Before anyone asks, Charlie and Vaggie aren't together in this short story. This is a Vaggie x Alastor story and I don't want Vaggie cheating on Charlie. Our little muffin princess is too sweet to be cheated on.

Also, this takes place in an au I've created. To sum it up, it doesn't take place in hell and all that. Everyone is still a criminal and everything. They're still alive and in a pocket dimension called Infernis. Everyone is technically called a dark mystic, but people also call them demons because of how despicable they are. Other than that almost everything else stays the same.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I hope everyone enjoys this little short story.)

Vaggie sighed in boredom as she scrolled through social media on her phone. There wasn't much to do today. Then again, there wasn't much to do around the Happy Hotel, to begin with since Angel is the only guest.

So, here she was. Sitting at the stupid bar with Husk, who was drinking as usual. While she still hated the fact that alcohol was in the hotel, she let it be. Besides, Charlie seemed to think it was a great idea.

When she got to a post featuring an imp she stopped and looked at it. It was another post from that guy who owned some hit-man business. She couldn't remember what the name of his business was right now. But, he always would gush about his adopted daughter and how wonderful his employees are. If it weren't for the fact that he operated such a gross business, she'd think he was sweet.

As she continued to surf the web she noticed Charlie plop down on the seat next to her. She drummed her fingers on her thigh nervously and glanced at the moth-like girl every so often. After a bit, Vaggie spoke up. "Spill. What's bothering you."

With that said the princess turned to face her and immediately spilled what was on her mind. "It's Alastor! He's been acting super weird lately. I tried talking to him, but he won't budge. He's been getting pale, his radio static has been increasing, and his antlers are growing! If it were just his antlers I wouldn't think something was wrong. But, I know there is! Not to mention he's been avoiding us and hasn't been eating. That's not like him at all! Everyone knows he's a foodie. I think he's sick!"

Vaggie looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Alastor get sick? I suppose that's a possibility. But, are you sure it's that? He could be going through a rough patch in his work or something. I've noticed his antlers sometimes grow when he gets angry. Maybe one of his deals backfired on him and he's pissy about it."

Charlie shook her head. "No. It's not that. If it was that he wouldn't be acting this way. Dad once told me he's seen deals backfire on deal makers before. They tend to go ballistic or something along those lines. I don't think he'd act this way if that happened to him. Maybe you could try talking to him."

This caused her to blink in surprise. "Me? Why ask me to talk to that shit lord? Whatever is bothering him is none of our business. If he doesn't want to talk about it then we shouldn't bother him. Besides, if anyone should talk to him it's Niffty and Husk."

"Like hell, I would. Same goes for Niffty." Said Husk. "I'd leave him alone if I were you."

"But, what if something is wrong with him." Countered Charlie. "We're his friends and he's a member of the Happy Hotel. We must help him if he's suffering." She turned back to Vaggie. "Maybe you can get him to tell you what's wrong with him." She gave her puppy dog eyes. "Talk to him. Pretty please with sugar on top."

Said girl stared at her before sighing heavily. "Fine. I'll talk to the ass-hole. Don't expect me to get far, though."

Charlie beamed. "Great!" She grabbed Vaggie, pulling her out of her seat, and began pushing her towards the stairs. "What are you waiting for? Get going!"

"Wait! You want me to talk to him now?!"

"Of course. The sooner, the better."

Taking into consideration Charlie's stubborn attitude, Vaggie knew it was pointless to protest and put her phone away. "Alright. Alright. I'll talk to him. Just don't expect me to find out what's going on."

With that said Charlie stopped pushing her and Vaggie trotted up the stairs to find Alastor. Honesty, why was Charlie so insistent on finding out what was wrong with him? He didn't want to talk about it. It seems this was one of the times the princess was sticking her nose in something she didn't need to.

But, honestly, Vaggie was worried about him too. She would never admit it, but she was. Just like she would never admit she fancied him as well. It was rare a boy caught her eye. So, it was always a big deal to her if one did.

She crossed her arms as her thoughts went to the Radio Demon. From the moment she saw him and the way he spoke to her as she pointed her spear at him she knew there was something about him. While she didn't appreciate him pushing her around like a rag doll and smacking her bottom, she still found herself drawn to him and wanted him to notice her.

Vaggie stopped and let out a humorless laugh. The chances of him noticing her were well below zero. He was a powerful overlord and she was a nobody who happens to be best friends with the crowned princess. Not to mention he's made it painfully obvious he could care less about her. Their first meeting was a prime example. There was no way-

A harsh sneeze nearby broke her out of her thoughts and made her jump. That caught her completely off guard. Not to mention she thought she was alone. Who was that?

She peeked around the corner to see a familiar red-clad man turn the corner on the other side of the hallway. There was no mistaking it. It was Alastor. Without waiting another second Vaggie scurried down the hallway and turned to catch up with Alastor.

However, he was nowhere to be found. He wasn't even in the hallway behind her. If he was walking, then he wouldn't have made his way down the hallway that fast. If he ran then she would've heard him.

"Shit lord must've teleported." She muttered to herself. "He makes everything difficult, doesn't he?"

As she turned around she was met with the sight of Alastor’s shadow on the wall. It was staring at her as if it was trying to read her soul. She nervously fidgeted under its piercing gaze. After a moment she decided to try to speak to it. "Um. You wouldn't happen to know where Alastor is and what's bothering him, would you?"

All the shadow did was stare at her for a few more seconds before disappearing. Vaggie sighed. Figures. Now she had to go back to hunting him down. With how big the hotel was, it was going to be a challenge. But, how hard was it going to be to find the Radio Demon? After all, he was hard to miss. It shouldn't be too much of a hassle to find him, right?

Wrong! Oh so wrong. Vaggie scoured the hotel bottom to top and there was no sign of him! The moth-like girl was covered in a thin layer of sweat and fuming. She's spent all late afternoon and early evening looking for him with no luck. She was beginning to wonder if he was in the hotel in the first place.

With nowhere else to look she made her way back to the first floor, determined to find out where he was. As she passed by the library she noticed the light was on. Huh. The only person who would be in there at this late hour was Charlie. Might as well tell her she couldn't find Alastor.

She opened the door and began speaking. "Hey, Charlie. I couldn't find Alastor. I don't think he's-"

She stopped herself when she saw that it wasn't Charlie occupying the room. What she saw took her by surprise. There, laying on the couch asleep with an open book on his chest, was Alastor.

This was something Vaggie thought she would never see. The Radio Demon sleeping. While she knew he had to sleep, she never thought she would see him in such a vulnerable state. Let alone be in the same room as him when that happened.

Deciding to push her luck, she quietly walked up to him. His head rested on the armrest, probably so his antlers wouldn't poke the couch, and the radio static that usually sounded around him was almost muted.

He looked so beautiful and peaceful as he slept. A light blush formed on her cheeks as she admired him. To see him in such a beautiful and vulnerable state was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If she didn't think it would wake him up, she would've snapped a picture of him with her phone.

Lightly shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she focused on her original task. Finding out what was wrong with him. She didn't want to wake him up, so she decided to see if he was running a fever. He did look pale. So, might as well see if Charlie was right thinking he's sick.

As carefully as she could be, she gently placed the back of her hand on his forehead. Upon feeling his temperature she removed her hand and her eyebrows scrunched up in concern.

"He's burning up." She muttered to herself. "Charlie was right."

Well, she couldn't just leave him there knowing he was running a fever. If he wouldn't take care of himself then she would! First things first, get him more comfortable.

She carefully picked up the book that was laying on him and placed it on a small table that was next to the couch. With that done she gently lifted his head and placed a pillow she had found on a chair under his head. She even took off his monocle and placed it in the breast pocket of his jacket. Now that he looked more comfortable, it was time she brought his fever down.

The moth-like girl scurried out of the library and all but ran into the kitchen, almost running into Angel Dust in the process. She immediately grabbed a bowl, threw some ice in it, and began filling it with cold water.

As she waited for the bowl to fill up Angel walked up to her. "What's got you in a tizzy? Did something happen?"

Her eye twitched in annoyance. "It's nothing for you to worry about. I've got everything covered."

"Does it have to do with Smiles? Charlie said you were looking for him. Come on, spill. What's up?"

All Vaggie did was huff as she shut off the water. "I've already told you it's none of your concern."

With the bowl of ice water ready she grabbed a tray and placed it on it. After that she snagged two clean washcloths they kept in the kitchen. One to use to bring down the fever and the other just in case she needed it.

After a brief moment of thinking, she snagged a glass, dropped some ice cubes in it, and filled it with the water they had in the water filter. She even put a straw in it. As she worked Angel watched her with a raised eyebrow. "Is he sick?"

When Vaggie didn't say anything a knowing smile broke out on his face. "He is, isn't he? I can help out too. Give me a few minutes to squeeze into my nurses uniform. He'll be feeling better in no time with me around."

Angel jumped when Vaggie slammed the glass of ice water onto the tray. She gave him a stern look and marched right up to him. "Listen to me. The last thing Alastor needs is you bugging him. All you're going to do is stress him out and that's one of the last things he needs right now. What he needs is proper love, care, and attention. Peace and quiet is something he desperately needs as well. So, shut up, leave him alone, and let me take care of him."

Angel listened to her and raised an eyebrow while smirking. "Proper love?"

Vaggies eyes widened in shock and her face turned bright red. Shit! She didn't even realize she said that! She almost sputtered something but decided against it. She grabbed the tray with a huff and pushed past him. Before she exited the kitchen she glanced at him. "I mean it, Angel. Stay away from him right now and let me take care of him."

Before he could respond Vaggie left. She quickly made her way back to the library and quieted her steps as to not wake him. She placed the tray on the table and looked at him. His fever wasn't going to go down all the way if he had on all those layers.

As carefully as she could, she began unbuttoning his suit jacket. As she did that her eyes were trained on his beautiful face. When that was done she unbuttoned his waistcoat. When he stirred for a moment she froze. Upon him settling back down, she finished undoing the last buttons. She decided to leave his dress shirt and bowtie alone so he wouldn't think she was trying to take advantage of him. Covering him with a blanket crossed her mind, but all that would do is make him warm and more heat was the last thing he needed.

She spread out his jacket and waistcoat so more heat could escape. With that done, she took one of the washcloths and dipped it in the ice water bowl. After squeezing out the excess water she folded it and gently placed it on his forehead. While Alastor stirred once again, he didn't wake up.

Vaggie took her chances and gently placed a hand on his soft red locks. His hair was so soft and silky. The feeling made her smile. "Don't worry, hun." She softly said. "I'm here now and I'm going to take care of you. You have nothing to worry about."

She blinked in surprise when he leaned into her touch. Alastor, a man who despises being touched, was actually leaning into hers in his sleep! A blush formed on her cheeks and she smiled a bit more. The feeling of butterflies formed in her stomach. She was so glad it was just the two of them in the room.

As gently, and carefully, as she could she placed a light kiss on his cheek. While her lips barely touched his hot skin, she still watched him in case she unintentionally woke him up. When he didn't she grinned as her blush increased.

After a moment she pulled her hand away and snagged the book he was reading. With nothing else to do right now, she might as well read to pass the time. She'd check on him in a few minutes.

After a short while, Vaggie got up and felt of his washcloth. It was already warm. She gently took it off and re-wet it. As she squeezed the extra water out and placed it back on his forehead Alastors eyes fluttered open. He shifted a bit before his sights fell on her. "Vaggie? What are you doing?"

She gave him a soft smile. "I'm bringing your fever down. Don't worry, I'm right here. You just lay there and relax."

He blinked owlishly at her before sitting up and taking off the washcloth. "As much as I appreciate your concern, I can assure you I'm fine. I'm not sick if that's what you were thinking."

Before he could make a move to stand up Vaggie popped in front of him. A stern look was on her face. "Oh, no you don't. You lay right back down and let me tend to you. You're burning up and need to rest."

He reached up to adjust his monocle. "Darling, I assure you I'm-"

He cut himself off when he didn't feel it. Blinking in surprise, he looked down at himself to see his jacket and waistcoat undone and his monocle in the breast pocket of his jacket. A tinge of red spread across his face and his grip on the couch tightened. "Vaggie. Mind explaining to me why I'm half-dressed?"

"I unbuttoned them so more heat could escape. Your fever isn't going to come down if you have on that many layers."

His smile tightened and his grip on the couch grew. His voice was strained as he spoke. "I would appreciate it if you left. I don't want to be around anyone right now."

She gave him a look that clearly said she wouldn't. "Alastor, I'm not going to leave you. Stop being stupid and stubborn and let me help you. You're sick and it's obvious you're not going to take care of yourself. So, I'm going to do that for you."

She leaned in and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Now, please lay back-"

She was cut off when Alastor suddenly grabbed her. Before she knew it, he slammed her onto the couch and got on his hands and knees above her. He pinned her hands down above her head and his smile was reaching its limits. Even his radio static increased.

She was about to say something when she saw the look on his face. It was predatory. He was looking at her as if she was prey. This caused her to shut up and break out in a cold sweat as fear coursed through her.

He let go of one of her hands and gently ran his now free hand down her cheek. "My dear Vaggie, how beautiful you look." He then grabbed her face. "How divine you smell as well."

Vaggie said nothing and stayed perfectly still as she stared up at him with panic-filled eyes. As he leaned in closer to her, she thought he was going to eat her. But, as he got closer it looked like he was going to kiss her instead.

Her entire face turned bright red and her heart started pounding. He was going to kiss her. Alastor, the Radio Demon and the man she fancied, was going to kiss her!

However, right before his lips touched hers he pulled away. He avoided eye contact as he got off of her. He picked up the wet washcloth that had fallen onto the floor and placed it on the tray. As he spoke he kept his back to her. "I can assure you I'm not sick, my dear. For your safety, and everyone else's, please leave me alone."

With that said Alastor left the library. After a moment Vaggie sat up and stared at the closed doors. Her face was still red and her heart continued to pound. What just happened? Not only did he almost kiss her, but the way he was acting wasn't like him at all. What in blue blazes was going on with him?

#hazbin hotel #vaggastor #vaggie x alastor #short story #if anyone wants to make fan art of this they can #a comic is good too #just tag me on it please #I had a lot of fun writing this #especially the fluffy/mushy parts #I love fluff

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