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mrs-dr-reid · 4 years ago

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The Girl Behind the Desk

(A Criminal Minds Fic)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Requested by @imagining-in-the-margins; “Spencer goes to the same library whenever he can. In part because he likes to read the encyclopedias, but also because he’s in love with one of the girls who works there. Unfortunately, he’s also convinced she doesn’t know he exists.”

Genre: Super fluffy, doods

Warnings: Pining, I guess? (is that a thing that needs a warning? I dunno, maybe)

A/N: Okay, this was so fun to write? Oh my god. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Word Count: 1858

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Spencer didn’t know why he kept going there. Well, he takes that back. He kind of knows why he keeps going to a very particular library in the D.C. area: There’s a very robust collection of encyclopedias there that he can go and read whenever he has time off from the BAU. Therein lies the kicker: he’s already read the entire collection at least half a dozen times. So why does he keep going there if he’s already read the one thing there that interests him?

The answer is quite simple... the encyclopedia section is within viewing distance of the check-out desk, and whenever he goes in to read them, there’s always a beautiful young woman there with shiny Y/H/C hair and striking Y/E/C eyes checking out books, answering the questions of other library patrons, and taking the reshelving cart to some other section of the library. He’s never plucked up the courage to go over and talk to her, but he knew from overhearing the conversations she had with her coworkers that her first name was Y/N.

Spencer’s played out a thousand interactions with her in his mind, but he’s never gone over to the desk to actually play one of them out. So for the past month and a half, he’s just been sitting in the corner by himself pretending to read a book while staring at the beautiful librarian from across the room like a lovesick idiot. And he was a lovesick idiot, because he couldn’t recall a single time in his life where he was utterly captivated by a woman he’d never even spoken a word to before.

He noticed every little thing about her: the way she would smile at young children who would plunk a Magic Treehouse or Percy Jackson book on the counter and stand on their tiptoes to hand her their library card, then give them a small lollipop from the glass bowl on the desk before they left, the way she laughed when one of her coworkers told a really lame library joke, the way she could pull her hair into a neat bun while she was working without one of those hair donut things he’s seen JJ use a couple times, and the way there was always a skip in her step and a song in her head when she was pushing the reshelving cart to whatever section she needed to go to.

She never looked over at his lonely little table because she was busy focusing on the more busy sections of the library, like the magazines, the research computers, and the children’s books, so the logical half of Spencer’s brain managed to convince him that she had no idea he even existed and that he really had no business being in the building. Still, the other more fantastical half of his brain kept him rooted in his plush library chair on the very slim chance that one day she’d look over and at least give him a smile. He highly doubted that would ever happen, but a guy can hope.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Y/N could tell that the guy in a purple sweater vest with unruly brown hair and thoughtful brown eyes sitting at a table near the encyclopedias wasn’t really there to read all of them every time he came in, because she was pretty sure she saw him read every single one of them and put them all back in the right place in the span of a few hours the first day he came into her library.

Sometimes when she was refilling the candy bowl, she would steal a quick glance over at him and see him absentmindedly flipping through the pages of an encyclopedia she knows she’s seen him read in record breaking time with a furrowed brow, because she had to admit he was handsome in his own nerdy little way. And she’d always feel her stomach flip when he pushed his hair away from his eyes or adjusted his tie, because his hands look HUGE, even from far away, and she knows that if they ever shook hands, his would completely swallow hers.

She only knew his name because he answered his phone one time, and she heard him say, “Dr. Spencer Reid,” which made her raise her eyebrows in amazement, because he couldn’t have been much older than she was and he was a doctor. She could tell by the way he dressed that there was no way he was a medical doctor, so she assumed that he was a college professor with a proclivity for literature.

He came into her library sporadically over a month and a half period, and when he was gone for long lapses in time, Y/N assumed he was doing lectures either at the school he worked at or at nearby schools as a guest speaker. But whenever she looked over at the empty table where he usually made himself at home, she couldn’t help but miss him, which was utterly ridiculous because how could you miss someone you’ve never even spoken to? She then made a pact with herself: the next time she saw him come in, she was going to find some excuse or another to talk to him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Spencer got back from a really rough case, and he figured that a trip to his favorite library might lift his spirits. He walked in through the doors, expecting it to be a normal session of “pretending to read so I can stare at the desk girl”, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a voice he’d only heard from a distance say, “We just got in a couple new ones about fungi and spores, in case you wanted to look at something new.”

He turned around to see the woman he’d been admiring from afar for nearly the last two months with her award-winning smile on her face. She pointed at his table and said, “I noticed you liked hanging out by the encyclopedias, so I thought I’d let you know if I caught you before you hunkered down over there,” making him struggle to find the right words to say. He finally settled on, “Ummm, okay. Cool. Thank you for letting me know,” and smiled before starting to walk away.

Y/N knew that was her last chance, so she said, “I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N L/N,” and held out her hand, so Spencer hesitated before grabbing it and saying, “Hi, Y/N. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Sorry, but, handshakes aren’t normally my thing. You see, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is outrageous. It’s actually...,” making Y/N say, “Safer to kiss, right? I’ve dealt with my fair share of germaphobes who whip out that fact,” before shooting him a wink.

Spencer didn’t know how to react to that, but he knows for a fact he went pink in the cheeks. Y/N continued, “And I already knew your name. I heard you answer your phone once. You’ve never checked out any books, so I just thought you were too busy with teaching to remember to return them and never went over to ask you about it,” while she started grabbing new books to stamp and stack.

Spencer didn’t really know how to respond to that, but he remembered how to speak English, and he said, “You think I’m a teacher?”, so she said, “Yeah. I mean, based on the way you dress and the fact that you’re slightly too germaphobic, there’s no way you’re a medical doctor. I figured you were a college professor, more specifically in the English department. How close am I?”, while sitting down in her swivel chair.

Spencer was impressed by her profiler-level deduction, so he said, “I’d say you were 70% accurate. I’m not a medical doctor, but I do have three PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, 2 BAs in Psychology and Sociology, and I’m working on a BA in Philosophy. I am a college professor, but I teach Criminology. I’m also a Supervisory Special Agent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” which made Y/N’s eyebrows fly up. She said, “Seriously?! All this time, I’ve been sneaking peeks at a super genius pretending to read an encyclopedia in the corner for the past two months?”, which made Spencer’s sly smile drop off his face.

He said, “You knew I was pretending?”, so Y/N grabbed her water bottle and said, “Yeah. You breezed through the entire collection in less than 3 hours the first day you came in, then you put every single one back in its rightful place. I even double checked after you left, and I didn’t have to swap a single book into the right place,” before taking a sip of water. Spencer said, “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute,” which nearly made Y/N choke on her water.

Spencer’s eyes widened in concern, and he said, “Oh my god, are you okay?”, but she waved him off and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting that,” before setting her water down. She checked her watch, then said, “Okay, my shift ends in a couple hours. And knowing you you’ll probably finish all those new encyclopedias by then, so how about when I clock out, you and I can go get coffee or something?”, which took Spencer completely by surprise. He said, “Uhhhhh, sure! Yeah, sure! That sounds great!”, his voice betraying him by cracking awkwardly.

Clearly Y/N thought it was cute, because she grabbed a pink sticky note and a clicker pen from the cup on the desk, jotted something down, then handed it to him before saying, “Be sure to think of some interesting fungus facts to tell me later, Dr. Brainiac,” winking, and heading off to reshelve some books. Spencer stood there awestruck for a solid minute before shaking himself and going to his usual spot. He finally looked down at what she had written, and he felt himself go completely red, because on the note was a series of numbers that could only be her cell phone number, an address that could only be hers, and the words “call me sometime, Boy Genius” written in a gorgeous looping scrawl.

Spencer looked up again to see her talking with one of her coworkers behind the desk, so he pulled out his phone and punched in her number before typing “Is texting okay, too?” and pressing send. He saw her pull out her phone, and she looked up and gave him a playful eye roll before typing something and putting her phone back in her pocket. His phone buzzed again, so he checked it to see that she had sent back “Of course it is, Dr. Reid ;)”, making him smile before going to grab those encyclopedias she was talking about.

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Tag List: @agenthotchner, @hurricanejjareau, @xgoldentigerlilyx, @therestisconfettis, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @aryaarathornson, @thomasgibsonfan01

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

#criminal minds #reader insert #one shot #dr spencer reid

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ofcowardiceandkings · 3 years ago

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I think you mentioned listening to podcasts? Do you have any favorites to reccommend? I've run out of content :(

that i do !

im not entirely sure what kind of podcast you'd be interested in but i'll throw out a few of the goodies in my huge library of stuff , i'll miss out a few of the HUGE podcasts that have been all over tumblr though

a LOT of it is true crime or human interest stuff , or history because im nerd ,, and a few of these dont have nearly enough attention so [shrug] i'll try to keep this short i guess lol this isnt EVERYTHING ive got in my library or listened series' by any measure

i AM gonna pop a shout to both Stuff You Missed in History Class and Stuff You Should Know from iHeartRadio because their HUGE archives have kept me from losing my mind many times over , and they cover a wide range of both important and wacky topics

BomBARDed (ongoing) this is the only fiction podcast i have happening right now really but its DAMN GOOD ONE .... it's an actual-play D&D 5E podcast in the DMs own musically-inspired world, focussed on a group of multiclass bards going to music school !! and all players (+DM) are members of the Texas band Lindby !! and they actually use and play music in the show with one original song an episode !! Kyle's worldbuilding and storycraft are truly incredible, and (Nick) Goodrich, (also Nick) Spurrier, and Ali's characters are in depth and interesting as well as an absolute powerhouse :') i actually made a piece for its first fanzine, Bardic Dreaming, which published earlier this year and is free to view now, all the players and the community are super wholesome its just very good overall 💙

History & Humans;

Fall of Civilisations (ongoing) legit one of my favourite podcast finds, im so glad my youtube autoplayed one of these ... it took me like 2 hours to realise it was 1) not the same as what was playing before and 2) had been on for 2 hours and wasnt near finished lmao. anyway, this is a series by historical fiction writer Paul Cooper, and is honest to all thats good one of the best documentary series ive encountered in years - and ive consumed a LOT of documentaries. it covered the downfall of various civilisations through history, and the episodes run from an hour to FOUR hours depending on the topic. its so chill to listen to and just get done, but over the pandemic all of the episodes have been given full movie-quality video versions too on youtube if youre more of a visual person.

Casting Lots: A Survival Cannibalism Podcast (on series break) yeah that says that lol ... its a SUPER niche topic but its very interesting and treated very well despite being kind of comical at times, the hosts are just naturally funny lol ... it delves around from the history of cannibalism in whole regions to specific incidents as recently as the 1970s, and of course the first episode is about the Donner Party, and it covers things ive never heard of despite being kind of important ?? anyway Alix and Carmella are good eggs

Sawbones (ongoing) i probably dont need to mention much here other than say that Justin and Sydnee saved me from being SO BORED sooo often, the history of medicine is wacky as hell and its what most of my history GCSE was on so [shrugs]

Cautionary Tales (on series break) this was a wild-card find lol ... it's by Tim Harford "the undercover economist" who writes for the Financial Times, and its topics kind of weave modern topics and science with how to learn from historical errors ... its a bit weird but well worth a go, also each series has a few celebrity guest voice actors which is pretty awesome

Ephemeral (ongoing) this is a very strange but thought provoking series about sounds and other things just barely saved. topics include the last castrato, the hello girls, hand-stamped records, the spread of kīkā kila music, and acoustic fossils of wild places.

Neat! The Boozecast (ongoing) history and bartending whats not to like lol ... hosted by Teylor Smirl and now their dad Tommy, they're just digging around in how important booze is to human culture

True Crime (white collar and weirdness);

Swindled (ongoing) this is an amazing show full stop. A Concerned Citizen details some of the most impactful and unruly things to happen in white collar and corporate crime. very factually accurate but given the sheer bullshit of the topics the deadpan snarking is [chefs kiss] absolutely warranted ..

American Scandal (on series break) this one is a series within a series type, and spends a few episodes at a time poking holes in some of America's biggest scandals, from a dramatised but fact-based point of view. such as what the hell was going on with Enron, how big tobacco was forced to own up to covering its own ass, how Iran-Contra happened, etc. it also now has a sister show called British Scandal, which does the same thing for British cases but with a slightly different format.

Missing in Alaska (finished) this was a fascinating series, a deep dive into what happened to two US government officials who disappeared on a small chartered flight in Alaska in 1972. it goes some really strange places, but it actually turned up a lot of previously unknown information through the audience. John Walczak's new series in a new feed is Missing on 9/11 which looks into what happened to Dr Sneha Philip.

Pretend (ongoing) Host Javier Leiva holds interviews with anyone living a lie, or who have been touched by them. con artists, snake oil salesmen, former cult members, catfishing victims, anyone and everyone.

Power: The Maxwells (finished) hosted by journalist Tara Palmeri, the story of media tycoon Robert Maxwell from nothing to empire to mysterious death and the scandals uncovered after he was gone.

Lets Talk About Sects (ongoing) Sarah Steele covering cults from around the world, in particular those in Australia - where she is from. She often has former members on the show to share their stories, and share knowledge of how they left. each story has the relevant content warnings at the start of each episode.

Brainwashed (finished) investigation of the CIA's covert mind control experiments, centred on the experiments performed at a hospital in Montreal, and its cultural impact.

Dr Death (2 series finished) two series investigating huge cases of fraud and medical malpractice, and how they were brought to a stop. series 1 covers Dr Duntsch and his horribly butchered neurosurgery, series 2 covers Dr Fata and his fraudulent cancer clinic

The Immaculate Deception (finished) untangling the weird and disturbing fertility fraud of Dr Jan Karbaat, who fathered children himself through his fertility clinic, and the impact of his deception. later episodes also touch on other similar cases.

True Crime (Violent/General);

The Casual Criminalist (ongoing) Simon Whistler of-the-many-youtube-channels cold reads a script about the case of the day, with some of his daft commentary thrown in.

Southern Fried True Crime (ongoing) Crimes from the American South hosted by Erica Kelley, she puts all the facts out there but refreshingly for true crime she doesnt hesitate to tell you if she thinks someone is human garbage lol

They Walk Among Us (ongoing) probably one of the most popular UK crime podcasts, very measured and well put together, not weird or annoying about it either.

All Crime No Cattle (ongoing, feed slowed down for now) specifically about crimes from Texas, hosted by Erin and Shay, they're very sensitive hosts and a lot of the cases they cover shed light on why the Texas criminal system is how it is or show an impact at a national level

Canadian True Crime (ongoing) Canadian crime from an Aussie who's lived there for a decade, Kristi is again a sensitive and measured host covering some important topics

True Crime (Violent/Deep Dive);

Hitman (finished) journalist Jasmyn Morris digs around in the sticky tangle around a book published by fringe publisher Paladin Press, and its apparent use as a blueprint in the killing of a mother, her friend and her 8 year old boy for financial gain.

Camp Hell: Anneewakee (ongoing) this series is exploring how a wilderness camp "correctional facility" was endorsed by the Georgia care and juvenile reform system, despite widespread abuses and shady practices the whole time. warning for csa and child cruelty throughout.

True Crime Bullshit (on series break) this one is a huge huge rabbithole but a very interesting one where the host Josh Hallmark has spent years digging into the life and potential crimes of Israel Keyes. Keyes is often mentioned as a serial killer with no pattern, but in picking it apart thats not quite true, and has sparked some re-evaluations of missing persons cases and stumbling upon information the FBI has redacted organically. there's also a series in the middle looking into the crimes of Kelly Cochran

Forgotten: Women of Juárez (finished) this series looks into the huge numbers of missing women of Ciudad Juárez, the strange circumstances surrounding them, and the potential cover-ups and corruptions on both sides of the border, trying to give a voice to all of the forgotten women and girls and their families without answers. the series itself is finished, but a spanish language edition is being released every week now.

aaaaaand i'll call it there before i list everything lol, i hope you find something to plug your boredom hole with !!

#audio #rory's ramblings #podcasts #asks #anon #long post

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writerwrites · 4 years ago

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Yuánfèn | 02

Ch. 2: Retrouvailles: “An overwhelming feeling of happiness caused by seeing someone after a long separation.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 3.3k Chapter Warnings: Smut - 18+ Only - Minors DNI, male masturbation, one night stand mentioned but not detailed, slow burn, grief, fluff

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Complete Masterlist

The first week Steve took it slow, only texting you when you texted first or if he hadn’t heard from you at all. He’d taken your advice, balancing his time between preparing the team for another altercation with the Maximoff twins and finding out as much as he could about them. It was a welcome distraction from the lack of news on his hunt for the Winter Soldier. Natasha was the only one that seemed to notice that he would periodically glance at his watch or his phone and go quiet for a moment before getting back to work. When she finally cornered him, he felt like he should have seen it coming. Arms akimbo and eyebrow quirked, she called him out with no hesitation, “You’ve got a secret.”

“Don’t we all?” Steve could immediately feel the regret in challenging her, busying himself with packing up his bag to head to his room and shower after a long morning of training. Nat didn’t hesitate to follow suit, tagging along with her own bag as she took long strides to keep up with him, even slipping into the elevator before he could. “How’s the search for the Maximoff twins going?”

Nat stood in front of the panel before he could select a floor. “Who have you been texting? Finally ask that SHIELD agent out, Sharon, or is the moping about a certain fossil?” She raised an eyebrow, her fingers tapping her arm impatiently.

Sighing, Steve reached behind her and hit the button. “Neither. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.” Before she could make another snarky comment, he asked. “Clint went home. Did you check in on him?” Though he didn’t use the tone of encouraging her to mind her own business, as he respected the effort she was putting in to build their friendship, he couldn’t help but hope she’d drop the subject.

“Yeah, I’ve checked in. Clint’s good, just like Doc said he’d be. Cho’s kind of a genius and it’s a relief to know that there’s someone that can piece us mere mortals back together when we’re out there saving the world with you.” Steve nodded as he listened, like a captain listening to a report on one of his troops, but his shoulders went ridged with her comment about Dr. Cho. She reminded him too much of Tony and not enough of Dr. Erskine. Luckily, it went unnoticed as she stepped out of the elevator with him and they walked toward their rooms.

There weren’t many memories in Steve’s life, even before the serum, where things simply went black. Taking a beating from his brainwashed best friend was one of them. Steve could picture the metal arm pulling back, the sting of pain as the bones in his face shattered over and over, and could even recall the conversation between swings, but he knew there were moments that were just blank from the concussion- especially after Bucky pulled him from the water. The fading image of him walking away, the ache of being put onto a stretcher, the gentle touch of small hands on his swollen face as the hum of medical machinery tried to pull him back to reality. It didn’t happen for days, but there were moments when he could still hear her talking to him or someone else in the room and always gave his hand three small squeezes before saying her goodbyes.

Steve had been in his head, remembering the music that woke him up and Sam waiting there for him. They’d stopped at Steve’s door, closest to the elevator, and Natasha pretended not to notice how quiet he’d been until she finally added, “Clint’s probably going to take another week before coming back to work, but we’re going out for drinks tonight. Are you thinking about coming with us this time? Might help you clear your head.”

“I’ll think about it.” It was a surprisingly genuine response. He didn’t need to get drunk to have a good time with friends and knew Sam could use the break from hunting a ghost and was itching to see Nat again. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that if he said yes that Kristen from Statistics would be there and he wasn’t going to open that door, let alone walk through it.

“Aren’t you full of surprises today.” With a slight smirk she kept walking toward her room, calling back, “We’re heading out at eight. Take a nap old guy.”

By the time he was alone in the shower, the idea of going out with the team seemed all the more appealing. Regardless of Natasha still trying to set him up with random colleagues. He was lonely and reaching one of those breaking points of needing to find some comfort to balance out a minute sense of normalcy to his bizarre life, be it good conversation or bad sex. The water cascaded down his toned body and he brushed away the beads of dew and bubbles of soap that trailed down the lines of his muscles before reaching for himself. A part of him that was still very much stuck in the 1940’s hated this need, always feeling some level of shame in finding comfort in the palm of his hand. Typically, these moods resulted in an act of non-sexual frustration, a stress reliever that was easiest to address with his fist and a punching bag.

He told himself that he wasn’t the kind of person to think of someone in particular that way during the solitary act. When he did ‘indulge’, his thoughts had always trailed back to the singular heated kiss with Peggy Carter. But now, with one arm on the tiled wall and the other stroking his length, Steve took an uncommonly slow pace and his mind went to the little things that he’d thought about over and over throughout the week. Small warm hands on his skin, her hand in his. How small would her hands look wrapped around him? How soft would she feel? The smell of her hair and the way she clung to him in a simple hug. Did she know how warm she felt as she held on so tightly to him? Steve gripped himself more tightly, strokes still slow and steady, as he worked out the loneliness with a twist of his wrist. Thoughts passing from little moments and his own stolen glances. The sound of her little hums when she was thinking or satisfied with a solution she’d come up with, how she always bit her lip when she was in a room full of people. Then there was the way she held her breath every time she managed to make eye contact with him as his hands moved over the lace panties she'd passed him to pack. Was she always wearing something like that under her scrubs? Did she do this, think about him getting off to the thought of her in them? The thought of the doctor slipping her hand between her thighs while she wore nothing but lace, scrolling through their messages, and thinking of him finished the soldier off. A long deep groan of her name echoed in the bathroom as he made a mess of the shower wall and floor.

Steve was panting, exhausted but satisfied, as the water washed all evidence down the drain. Slowly, he started to realize what he’d done, but the familiar weight of guilt couldn’t settle in as he realized he wanted something other than a past he couldn’t have. As he dried off, Steve tried to rationalize the thought away, they’d had a nice moment between two colleagues and she was undeniably pretty. It was easy for his mind to drift there, he thought, to think about someone who was naturally beautiful and kind when they were so wholly unaware of it. As he got dressed, Steve put a pin in it, telling himself that even if there was a little spark, she needed a friend. That thought alone seemed to settle the decision to go out or not for him. He chose to drag Sam along for Nat’s sake and make the most of it all.

Sam and Nat were hitting it off well, making Steve wonder what was really going on between her and Clint. The pair of them together had been a force and, despite not feeling ready to date- especially someone as modern as Lilian-with-a-lip-piercing from Accounting, he found himself heading out with her for the night. She was chatty and outgoing, and he found some relief in her questions about his past or job. It stopped him from having to open up on a deeper level when that wasn’t what they were doing. What they were doing was rough and exhausting. She was vocal about what she wanted; hair pulled, ass spanked, fast thrusts, and a firm no kissing rule. He obliged, getting his pleasure from the sounds of her own and his name on her lips, but by the third round she was exhausted and he was left thinking about how he’d never made love to a woman.

Slipping out of Lilian’s place with less awkwardness than he’d expected, Steve checked his phone. He still hadn’t heard from you all day, and it was 2 am in New York, which meant a new morning for you in Spain. He wondered if he should’ve asked Sam for an update on Bucky at the bar, but hesitated to reach out and ask at this hour. Despite socializing and the workout he’d just had, he was too in his head to go to sleep. Spinning his keys around his finger he found himself riding his bike over to the small, quiet apartment with books and a hungry fish.

As if you knew he’d turned up in your space, he heard his text tone just as he was screwing the top back onto the fish food. “I know you said that if I needed anything, to just ask. Probably didn’t expect a text this early and I’m guessing you’re probably asleep… this is so dumb and a big ask, but…” Steve stared at the screen, eyebrows drawn together as he wondered if the smartphone had eaten a text or had some feature that shortened longer messages that he didn’t know how to open. He watched the typing bubbles pop up again and waited, taking a seat at one of the two bar stools at your kitchen counter, the other containing a pile of your neatly stacked mail from the week. “I know I didn’t think I’d get through the goodbyes alone, but I managed. Thanks for the encouragement. It's everything else that I realized I just can’t do alone. The packing… all the pictures. There’s so many memories and I can’t take everything back to my place in New York- my place is just too small.”

Steve clicked the ‘call’ icon and waited for you to pick up on the other end. He thought about his mother’s funeral and how Bucky had been there for him, told him he knew he could manage alone but didn’t have to. His stomach twisted with emotion and then the call went to voicemail.

You didn’t expect him to see your panicked messages until later in the morning. You sat there, runny nose and bleary eyed, staring at the name on your screen. Five minutes, just staring, no text response, no new call- and then he was back, a FaceTime call this time. Pulling your hood over your head so he couldn’t see how disheveled you were, wiping your face on your sleeve, you answered with your face hidden mostly between your knees where you rested your chin and the hood. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” The apology that excluded the ‘I’m sorry’ was still very obviously an apology.

“You didn’t.” You were unconvinced, his hair was a little mussed, clothes wrinkled. He could tell that it seemed like you hadn’t fully thought through what you were going to ask of him, so he offered up a different question.“What do you have left to do in Spain? We’ve managed to stay out of trouble over here, just for you.”

The soldier tried to study your expression, noticing the glimmer in your eyes that wasn’t just from the sunrise. “I have to pack up what I want to take home. I was thinking I could get a scanner and digitize the pictures, but I don’t know how long that will take.” You let out a puffed up sigh, “I don’t think I have the heart to sell the place, but I’m so bad at taking vacations that it seems like a waste to keep it.”

“Don’t sell it. If your gut is telling you to keep it, go with your gut. There are other options, AirBnB or renting it out.” You sniffled, burying your face further in your arms and legs, leaving Steve to stare at the view behind you. “I know I’m getting a sideways view here, but it looks really beautiful.”

That managed to squeeze a small smile out of you as you nodded and turned the phone toward the balcony to give yourself a moment to wipe away the tears and snot once more. “Yeah, under any other circumstances it would be a proverbial paradise. You probably need a vacation more than me.”

“You’re probably right.” Steve laughed softly, trying to coax you out of what looked like the tail end of a lot of crying. “Send me the location, I’m curious what’s around the place.”

With a long hum you sent him your location. “Not going to send Stark tech to stalk me, are you?”

“I’m sure if Tony wanted to keep tabs on you he was already doing it.” Steve clicked on the marker and looked around the place, its stone streets and little shops. “Doesn’t look like there’s any modern shops, as cute as all these little places are. Where are you going to find what you need to scan the pictures?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Just using my phone’s camera, I guess.” You looked at him as you watched the colors reflect off his face, blues and greens that mirrored the same flecks of color in his eyes. He probably didn’t even realize how beautiful he could look just staring at a phone. You relaxed a little, having someone to talk to for the first time in a week and let out a quiet yawn. “Is 8 am too early for a nap?”

Steve laughed and your face ached as you nearly smiled again. He bit his bottom lip, tempted to tell you that it was nice to see you smiling when he knew your heart was hurting, but he could already hear how cheesy it sounded and instead, chose banter. “Is 2 am too early to still be awake?”

“Go to bed. You know the second that you all even think you know where the twins are you’ll be on a Quinjet to find them. You can’t be pulling all nighters, even if you’re a super soldier. Doctor’s orders.” You added with a small smirk.

“Even if I headed back to the Tower this very minute, I bet I’d still beat Nat back. I think she left the bar with my friend, Sam.”

You knew Sam, just a little from one brief patch up. He had the same charm Steve had, clever and driven. “Nat and Sam? Good for her. He seems like a great guy and he could keep her on her toes.” With his phone so close to his face you couldn’t help but wonder, “Wait, it’s too quiet for you to be at a bar. Steven Grant Rogers, are you FaceTiming me from the bathroom of an O.N.S.?”

A part of you wanted to laugh, the thought of Steve just sleeping with some random person from a bar. Another part of you, the one that had a hint of a crush on the sweet guy who helped you when you were desperately in need of a friend, felt a pang of jealousy. “I’m not sure what an O.N.S. is, but I’m actually at yours feeding your nameless fish and named plants. You really got to figure out a name for him before I do.”

Somehow, a smile found your face, this big hero wanting to name a fish and zipping over to your place to feed him at 2 am. “If you’re too tired to head back to the tower, you can crash at my place. It’s late, you look like you could fall asleep at any moment. The bed’s clean, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and coffee and it’s fixings are right over the pot. I’m not fancy enough for a Keurig, sorry.”

You watched him stop scrolling, his eyes meeting yours as you rambled. He didn’t look tired, he looked disheveled but perfect, as always, but it was cute to see him try to flatten out his hair nevertheless. “You forgot about the books.”

“I thought that was a given.” You stuck your tongue out before yawning one more time. “I’m serious though, best to stay off the road if you’re tired. Besides, the bills are paid even though no one’s there to use anything. I’ll probably be gone another week.”

Steve sighed, not in some defeatist way of you being right but, to your surprise at the mention of how much longer you would be gone, “One more week…”

“Feels like I’ve been gone for months.” You looked away, eyes stinging as the weight of your reality settled on your shoulders again. There was no one left in this world to actually miss you. The truth was that despite being in this beautiful place, you couldn’t help but feel all the more hollow and alone in it. If it wasn’t for the little check ins you would’ve never managed to drag yourself through the house, to the lawyers, or out to the shops to eat. “I’m not texting you too much am I?”

“Not at all.” He replied quickly, then worried it might have been too fast. He could tell you were off somewhere else, wondering if you heard him or if it even mattered. The way you clung to him just a few feet away from where he currently sat, a tight hug now in the forefront of his mind. Before he knew what he was saying, the thought spilled out. “I wish I could give you another hug. I know it’s not easy to do this alone.”

The confession choked you up, sniffling you nodded, “I wish you were here to give me a hug too. A1 hug game, big guy.” Despite the tacked on joke, tears silently spilled from your cheeks and you were eager to get off the phone so he didn’t have to hear the incoming wave of heavy breathless weeping. “Get some sleep, Steve. I’ll keep texting signs of life.”

He nodded, eyebrows knit together with concern and curiosity, “We’ll catch up soon, darling. Goodnight.”

Steve took you up on the offer, showering and climbing into your bed somewhere around 3 am with one of the other books that had been stacked on your bedside table. He hardly comprehended a single word, replaying the conversation as he drifted into a heavy sleep, overwhelmed by the sense of happiness in just seeing your face through a screen as he was surrounded by the comforting scent of you. For the first time since seeing Bucky, he didn’t dream of his best friend falling off the train or the dance he never had.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love feedback from you. Do you think these two miss each other? Are they crushing or just some horny adults? We shall see, we shall see!

Also, if it wasn’t obvious: In this house we stan bisexual Cap and ship Sam x Nat over Bruce x Nat.

As my followers know I have an obscenely demanding job, but I always try my best to keep you posted on if there will be a delay in a chapter posting. This series should be posting every Sunday until it finishes. Also, while I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina writer and I write fics I want to read.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

#fic: steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #writer: writerwrites

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physicistdyke · 4 years ago

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Transed his own Gender

Dr. Harold P. Coomer is trans, he's worked his whole academic career to make his body just how he wanted it. Now, at age 46, he finally has an opportunity with his work at Black Mesa to get bottom surgery. But his colleague and friend Dr Bubby, who doesn’t know anything about gender besides the strict hetero-normative and patriarchal culture of STEM, objects to the new and risky procedure while questioning Coomers desires to put his own safety at risk all for a silly gen-dar.

rb >> likes!

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25611880

or read under cut

It was both viciously empowering and crumbled him to the core. He had a power over his own body, rare for the here and now in this space and time. Harold had felt this way many times before, an advantage that should be a right. He could relieve his own suffering, but at what cost? The lingering thoughts would stick with him, latching on like a parasite, a cancer. A hand on his shoulder brought him back into his body, a body he’s worked so hard for. He turned back to see his colleague, stoic in expression. Dr Bubby was not good at expressing emotions in a conventional manner, but other characteristics helped to convey what his face could not. Right now the pressure he was applying with his hand on Coomer’s shoulder mixed with how he avoided eye contact told Coomer that Bubby was afraid. Bubby was afraid for Coomer. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Bubby started. Coomer was about to reply, but Bubby’s own racing mind cut him off. “It’s a very experimental procedure you know, I was reading over the cybernetics reports-“ “Please Bubby,” Coomer turned and looked up at him straight on, he saw worry in his friend’s eyes, “I am fully aware of what I’m doing, I have done just as much research as you.” He said these words with confidence. He didn’t want to hurt his friends feelings more, but sometimes Bubby’s ego got the best of him. Bubby took a step back from the other man, as if the eye contact burned him. Harold was one of the few people Bubby could look in the eyes without that feeling, but now it felt like the island of experience between them was distant. He averted his gaze back to a corner of the room, reconsidering his own words and constructing a sentence most logical for the situation. “I just don’t understand your desire to keep going forward with this, you’re already well respected enough.” *** ____________________________________

This would be Coomer’s first procedure since he had met Bubby. The most recent before that was the operation on his chest, he had snagged that opportunity while working on his post doctorate. That was an experimental procedure at the time too, but Coomer’s endless tap of kindness and intelligence had been able to convince his friends in the medical department and their higher ups that this was an ethically sound decision. Even though Coomer himself never wished to study human anatomy, much preferring engineering and physics to biology, the circumstances of his life pushed him to learn more then he wanted to know. This study began the second he got to college, an unaware and afraid young man, he used his own body as test subject. Mixing concoctions that transformed his body and mind. By the time he was applying for his masters, he was a new man. All the insecurity and anxiousness of his younger years behind him, he now shone like the star he was. From there he made incremental and bolder steps in the process of his transition; first with the top surgery as mentioned before, and now, at the age of 46, he was arranging what would hopefully be his final procedure. Black Mesa did a lot of things, and apparently mechanical prosthetics was now one of them. The new cybernetics department had already made wondrous strides in terms of arms and legs, restoring ability to those in their ranks that needed it. These semi-mechanical, semi-flesh prosthetics fascinated Dr. Coomer to no end. About 8 months ago he had started wandering into the department more often. Finding himself asking passing questions to colleagues, asking questions from a genuine place in the heart. Dr. Coomer was open to talk about his experiences as a trans man, but a majority of his peers were always too uncomfortable to ask. They saw it as an oddity within a good man, he saw it as something that helped make him the good man he was today. The gap in that understanding stung Coomer sometimes, and the feeling of isolation sometimes crept up on him. But his smile and the passion for his studies often helped to bring him away from that space. It was about 2 months ago when he picked out a particular team within the cybernetics department, and started to have more serious conversations with them. From a scientific perspective, everyone involved was enthralled by the prospect. Combine that with Coomer's consistent fascination, confidence, and consent, they were fast approaching a place where action could be taken. _____________________________________

Bubby had noticed his friend's increased absence from their own department. Missing from collaboration meetings, not in his office or nearest break room for their usual chit chat. Coomer was an unlikely but much appreciated friend to Bubby. They had met about 10 years prior, when Bubby was nearly done the process of being titled 'a successful prototype'. Coomer was an unexpected ray of sunshine in Bubby's life. Showing him a kindness and understanding Bubby never had the luxury to live with. Being regarded as a test subject and experiment your whole life does that to you. ____________________________________

Bubby didn't know what being trans meant when Coomer first brought it up with him. Bubby, in reality, didn't even know what gender meant. He had a vague grasp on the fact that gender existed. The knowledge tubes his creators attached to him all those years ago mostly skipped out on all topics of liberal arts, humanity, sociology, etc, except for the most minimum required for him to be a somewhat functioning social life form. But what Dr Bubby lacked in those nuanced interactions and social rules, he well made up for in his ability to observe and form logical conclusions (according to his own account). He was aware of the fact that some people were referred to differently. Out of Black Mesas staff, a small minority were referred to as ‘she’. This group had a tendency to dress different from the rest of the staff, occasionally donning skirts and dresses, and varying from person to person on pigment applied to the face. Bubby viewed these people as his equal (or more so equally below him as the rest of his male co-workers, as he was still an egotistical jerk), but he couldn’t help but notice the trends surrounding this group. Bubby heard the back handed remarks, the passing jokes, the tone of superiority made by some of his male colleagues about the fairer sex. He saw the anxiety in his female colleagues when this attitude approached them. He noted the equal distribution of men to women in the ranks of visiting grad students and post docs, yet the stark lack of women in actual professional roles at Black Mesa. He saw the complacency in nearly all of his male colleagues regarding the generally accepted treatment words the ‘fairer sex’. Nearly all his male colleagues. Coomer and Bubby had been working together for a few years, and a friendship (or the closest thing to that someone could get to with Bubby) had started to really solidify. They were on lunch together, discussing the published panels from a recent convention on nuclear physics. Bubby was particularly fascinated in some newly publish findings on strange Beta decay experiments. He excitedly postulated the possibilities the results could mean for the future of the strong nuclear force. Dr Coomer was as supportive and thoughtful towards his friend as ever, but something else seemed to be occupying his thoughts. “Did you read over the notes from the panel on gender issues in STEM?” Dr. Coomer eventually interrupted when his lingering thoughts became too present. This caught Bubby off guard, but he quickly caught up with his colleagues present state of mind, “I didn’t because I saw it as trivial. I mean, it was a convention on nuclear physics, why waste time with trivial matters of progressing social etiquette?” Coomer furrowed his brow and Bubby realized he had perhaps chosen the wrong words, “Well Professor, if you had spent the time to read, you’d realize it was barely focusing on Progressing social etiquette at all. The man they chose to lead the panel was as backwards thinking about women’s role in science as the Pythagoreans were about irrational numbers.” Bubby shuffled in his chair with slight discomfort, he was never put up to the task of discussing matters like this, “Ah, yes. Well that is a shame. Pretty fucked up too… But I’m sure women will find a way to still contribute valuable findings.” “It’s difficult enough already, I’m sick of this two steps forwards one step back mentality.” Coomer was submerged in his own thoughts, barely acknowledging Bubby’s weak response. “Things have barely changed since my undergrad days. I’m lucky I managed to survive the few years I did in academia being perceived as a woman.” Bubby processed this as neatly and quickly as he could. Gender could be changed. ____________________________________

***“What do you mean by respect, Professor?” Dr. Coomer asked, cooling his own emotions. “You know what I mean, you’re already perceived as a man! You’re no longer are seen as a woman and you’re no longer discriminated against. I admire that you’ve figured out a way to jump the backwards system but-“ he was cut off by Coomer. “Bubby,” Coomer looked at his friend, trying to fathom what the hell had gone wrong in that ‘perfect’ brain of his. He finally gathered his thoughts, “I’m not, trans- because I wanted to be respected. I’m trans because I just am.” Bubby ruminated on his colleagues response, “Well fine, if not for the respect then it’s simply conformity! It makes complete sense Harold, science can be a real dog eat dog world. Anything that makes you separate from the norm is just a weight to be lifted.” “What the actual hell are you talking about professor” a tone of anger and disappointment filled Coomer’s voice, “This is some really problematic thinking you know.” Bubby gave a huff and deepened his gaze to the corner of the room, he mulled over his thoughts and tried to choose his words carefully. As much as he hated to admit it, he really knew very little about gender, but his drive to maintain the upper hand kept him from admitting that. He decided drawing from personal experience was the most logical argument to make, “I mean, that’s why I’m a man. I guess I just always assumed it was the same for you.” Coomer’s look of annoyance turned to one of intrigue, it was rare for Bubby to share his more personal thoughts and feelings. Coomer took this opportunity to prod his colleague, “Is that so Dr Bubby?”, he knew how to get Bubby in a more comfortable mindset, “Then tell me, do you feel like a man?”. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” Bubby sneered, “I don’t feel like a man, I just present like one. What the hell does feeling have to do with gender?” Coomer chuckled a little, realizing his friend wasn’t a complete bigot, just an idiot. “I say Dr. Bubby, it looks like your creators really didn’t connect any gender tubes to that brain of yours. Did they tell you the you were a man?” Bubby was feeling increasingly exposed and embarrassed but kept his composure. “Those bastards didn’t tell me anything! At least not directly. I popped out of the tube and they just started calling me ‘he’ and I just rolled with it. I thought that happened to everyone! Until I met you,” Bubby finally returned his gaze to Coomer. Slight tones of confusion, fear, and anger made up his expression, “I could tell that it sucked to be a woman, regardless of their extra freedom of expression with clothes and things like that. So it made sense to me that you changed your presentation to avoid the ridicule.” Coomer enjoyed pressing Bubby’s ‘think deeply about something other than science’ button, but refrained and decided to give some explanation. “Bubby, that really isn’t how gender works in the slightest! I mean for some people they’re content with what ever gender they were assigned at birth, but even then they have some sort of emotional attachment or sense of that gender. And for others, like me, they feel a stronger connection to some other gender and they make what ever adjustments feels right for them. With everyone it can be pretty fluid throughout their lifetimes, but it’s all very personal. What gender do you feel Bubby?” “I don’t feel like any fucking gender! I feel like a scientist, can’t I just be that?” Bubby tapped his foot and rolled the hem of his lab coat between his fingers. He was glad he was talking about this with Harold, but it still felt awkward as hell. “Of course you can Dr. Bubby!” Coomer beamed at his colleagues honesty, “Though I don’t think you could be considered trans though, you were assigned Scientist at Birth™.” Cooper laughed at his own joke, which in turn made Bubby relax and smile a bit himself. Coomer placed a hand on Bubby’s sholder, “Ah, but in all seriousness. It’s completely valid to not be a man or a woman. There are plenty of people like that! And it’s also ok to not have any gender at all! You can feel and express yourself however you want to Bubby, and at least I’ll be here to fully support you. I hope you’re willing to do the same for me.” Bubby looked to the side in a sheepish but calmer way, “Well, of course Harold. I guess I didn’t fully understand how much this meant to you. I’m, um, sorry for speaking over you about this.” A sorry from Bubby was a rare commodity. “It’s alright. You were worried about my well being and I’m grateful for that! You were miss informed and kind of stupid, but I’m glad you were willing to open up and have an honest conversation with me.” Bubby smiled and his gaze was finally able to align with Coomer’s again, the feeling of safety retuned and his anxieties took a back seat. “Well, if it’s alright with you, I’d love to help you and the cybernetics department in your research and development. Learn more about the cutting edge of gender confirming surgery and whatnot.” Coomer beamed at the support, “Ah! I’d be happy to include you in Project Black Mesa Super Shlong 3000! I can grab some of the blueprints we’ve been working on right now!” Coomer left Bubby’s office in an excited hurry and would return shortly. In that time Bubby reflected on the conversation. Not needing to be a man or a woman? Not needing any gender at all? That sounded really nice to Bubby. He still had a lot to learn about life outside of Black Mesa and the apparently fluid rules of gender, but he was glad he Coomer there to fill in the gaps.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #coomer #dr coomer #bubby #dr bubby #bubby hlvrai #coomer hlvrai #this is a lil silly #Tried not to make it too angsty but also it has a lot of serious talk about gender identity #two fics in one year?#This is a new record #boomer #They're not explicitly dating but I gave their relationship the qualities of a real relationship so #Also don't dead brain come at me thinking I feel how bubby feels about gender #he's literally framed as wrong in his ideas but is shown compassion and capability to grow #like we all are

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hemmoangel · 4 years ago

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Dr. Gay Dreamboat Pt. 2

AN: Hiiii, tysm for reading the first part to this! I’m sorry that the chapters are so short, but the next one is going to be longer and the best yet!

Your support means the world to me, and I really hope every enjoys these silly little one shots, during this lashton drought...

Warnings: There will be smut and mentions of smut throughout the series! Bottom! Luke and top! Ashton, of course. DO NOT READ IF YOU HATE GAY STUFF! Also, be sure to like a reblog if you enjoy!

Be sure to follow me on here and on wattpad and ao3 @ twinkylukey

Here’s the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there :) :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210262/chapters/71751150

"That's for when we're alone in the break room"

It replayed over in Luke's head a million times— and distracted him from every patient. In fact, it was all the dumb blonde could think about. Ashton was informing one of the mothers about the vaccination their child was about to receive; Luke was supposed to be prepping the needle, but he started daydreaming again and ended up dropping the syringe onto the contaminated floor. This meant that he would have to leave Ashton's side and go all the way to the supply room— which, was much too far away from his dreamy doctor (the supply room was ten feet away from their current location).

The mother gave Luke an odd look, as if she were worried to see someone so dense working in the medical field. Luke couldn't blame her.

Ashton covered for him, "Ah, forgive Nurse Luke, here. He's afraid of needles too," He told the mum and her young son. The little boy looked up at Luke with wide eyes. Luke giggled awkwardly, flashing Ashton a grateful look.

"Yeah, that's true. Adults can be afraid of needles too!" Luke told the little boy. The little boy smiled.

"Just squeeze your mum's hand really tight. That's what I do, Nurse Luke," The boy explained, obviously feeling better about his own fear. Luke could even see his tears drying up.

"But, I don't have anyone's hand to squeeze. My mum's not here," Luke teased, mostly so Ashton would get the subtle hint. He wanted Ashton to hold his hand. He wanted Ashton to hold his hair while he took his cock down his throat.

"Don't worry, Luke. I'm a professional. I've given thousands of shots, so I'm pretty good at it. In fact, if you're ever in need of one, just call me," Ashton winked. Luke stared back, blinking. Did that mean what Luke thought it meant?

He quickly left the room, distracting himself with preparing the new needle.

This sort of office flirting was beginning to get out of hand.

On a normal Wednesday, Ashton would make comments about Luke's choice of scrubs. He would say things like:

"Oh, that's a nice shade of blue. I really like the pinks scrubs though. It's nice that you take pride in how you look, even if you have to dress professionally for the office"

And Luke would forget how to breathe. It would leave the poor boy so flustered and confused. Him. The master, seductress, twink nurse would forget how to attract men. Perhaps, it was because this particular man was a bit older, and Luke knew he had a full bank account and a palace for a house. Maybe it was how his voice melted like honey or how he always seemed genuinely interested in everything Luke had to say. Either way, it was intoxicating, and it would always lead to fantasies of being taken care of.

Ashton had to be a dom after all. Ashton had to be interested after all. He wouldn't say all those flirty things if he weren't.

And of course, there were the days that kept Luke awake at night.

The blonde nurse would be making his daily iced coffee with way too much cream and sugar, and Ashton would let his hand rest on some part of his body as he reached around him to do the same. Usually, it was just his arm. Sometimes, it would be his shoulder. And then, it was his lower back, and Luke had to bite his lip to keep a moan restrained.

"You know, Lu, you're going to rot your teeth with all that sugar," Ashton smirked, peering over glasses that he had recently started wearing to work (another thing Luke had to look forward to). He had also taken up the habit of calling him Lu. Only close friends and ex-boyfriends called him that. It was different to hear it coming out of Ashton's mouth. It was as if it were meant to be there.

"Yeah, but the cream balances it out. It has like calcium or something. I like cream," Luke giggled, realizing the innuendo. Suddenly, he felt the newly familiar, warm hand over the small of his back. It was dangerously close to his bum. He was glad too because those scrubs were two sizes too small around his curvy waist and barely-there panties. They were (just like him) itching for the older man's attention.

"I don't really take cream...in my coffee," His hand was still firmly placed as he reached for the coffee pot diagonal from the nurse, "No sugar either. I get my sweets elsewhere."

Ashton's fingers burned hot, and for a split second—Luke could feel them beginning to circle. It was if they wanted to grab something. Luke squeezed his eyes shut, biting down hard to conceal a whiny moan that was threatening to escape.

"I, uh, I uh..." Luke flushed, desperate to find words.

"Hmm?" Ashton asked sweetly, as if he were degrading Luke, "Don't tell me that you don't like cream...all in your coffee. You must, considering those tight little scrubs you're wearing and how you basically throw yourself on me. You must be wanting something, huh Lu? Something...extra..."

"What?" Luke's mind hadn't caught up all the way. He was under the impression that he had fallen asleep during his lunch break. He stared at Ashton with big eyes, never wanting him to move his hands off of him. He gulped, finding that he was always fighting the urge to just sink to his knees and beg in the break room again.

"Mm, don't be coy. With your lollipop stealing and your constant glazed-over eyes," Ashton tsked. He ghosted his hand over Luke's hip, "But, I got work to do today, baby. It's real busy. You're gonna be busy too. You can come prove me right some time after work, hmm?"

"Y-Yes," Luke mewled instantly. There was nothing in his life that he had been more sure of.

"Good. I'll text you my address," Ashton smirked, "All you had to do was say, Lu. How do you think you got the job?" He asked rhetorically as he left the room with his coffee.

Luke gasped softly, lingering in the heat that Ashton left in his wake.

He couldn't be so flustered every time they were alone. He had to prove to Ashton that he was the perfect twink for him, and he knew just how he could finally seduce the handsome doctor.

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geminimoon14 · 4 years ago

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Sanders Sides Space AU Part 2

It took Remus and Janus no time to settle into a routine with the crew of the USS Sanders. There was no surprise amongst the crew when Remus was revealed to be directly related to Roman, though it was convenient to be able to report the former’s antics to the Captain directly. Fortunately, Janus and Remus were successfully incorporated into the crew with hardly a problem.

Virgil was walking by Logan’s office, ready to deliver Roman’s research request when he overheard, “You drink POISON!” Virgil rushed in, ready to call up Dr. Patton for an emergency treatment when he saw Logan calmly sipping from his mug.

Remus’s eyes were wide in admiration as he exclaimed, “Dren! I didn’t know you could do that!” Virgil rolled all four of his eyes as Logan continued looking over a report and drinking from his mug. The Araneus held out a small disc to the Human and informed him, “Princey wants some info on the fauna of Dronter. Something about toxic blood?”

Logan took the disc and scanned the information before replying, “Very well, let the captain know he should have the information in a few microns.” Virgil nodded, ready to leave when Remus asked, “Did you know he could drink poison? Deathworlders are incredible!”

Before Virgil could ask, Logan sighed and told the other, “For the last time, coffee is not toxic! It helps my general awareness!” Virgil went rigid as he exclaimed, “You WHAT!” His hand went to his communicator as he called Patton and shrieked, “Emergency! Logan drank coffee, nearly a half a mug! We need help now!”

Logan had no time to protest as Patton responded, “I’m on my way! Get him to lay down to slow its course!” The scientist tried to speak but was pulled onto the floor of his office before he could register. Logan huffed and folded his arms across his chest as he waited for Virgil to focus enough that he could help.

Remus seemed on edge as Virgil’s panic spiraled. Just as it seemed to be getting worse, Logan’s voice called out, “Virgil! In for four.” The Araneus froze at the order and took Logan’s hand as the Human repeated, “In for four...“ Virgil struggled for a moment before inhaling as Logan counted and continued speaking, “Good. Hold for seven… Breath out for eight... Now do it again. In for four…”

Patton arrived just as Virgil started to calm and loaded Logan onto the gurney. Still holding Virgil’s hand, Logan glared and told the medic, “I. Am. Fine! Coffee is not going to kill me.” Patton placed his hands on Logan’s temple and scanned his mind for abnormalities. Logan sighed as he asked, “Is this like the capsaicin thing again?”

Remus looked to a medical assistant as they revealed, “Human’s purposely eat things that make their mouths feel like they’re burning.” Remus turned back in time to hear Patton ask, “You’ve been drinking that stuff every day!”

From the gurney, Logan casually checked the time and replied, “Humans drink it as a way to heighten their focus when tired, some to the point of addiction. I utilize it as a way to help my mind prepare itself for early morning cognitive function. I was not aware it was toxic to other species.” Virgil seemed to become a little more anxious as he exclaimed, “Your species and literally eat a deadly poison and all you get from it is a little boost of energy!” Logan nodded along, finally allowed to sit up and slide off the gurney as he remarked, “That seems to be correct, yes.”

Virgil huffed and walked away as he shouted, “Frelling Humans! Never know what’s gonna kill you!” Logan seemed perplexed by the proclamation but shrugged and went back to his desk. Patton pulled up Logan’s medical file on his Holowatch and made a few adjustments on the projection, muttering about heart attacks.

After the incident, Remus stuck around Logan more often than not. Crew members would often find him following Logan with questions about Deathworlders or the study he was involved in. The Human would usually answer to the best of his abilities, not one for discouraging learning and study.

It was only a problem when he asked these questions in public. Such as the infamous question asked in the cafeteria: “Is it true that your mouth bones fall out and grow back?” Everyone in the vicinity had shuddered and fully freaked out when Logan answered, “Yes, we lose our baby teeth when our adult teeth grow in.”

There was a loss of appetite so sudden that Patton and the other medics had worried an epidemic was sweeping through the ship. When he heard about the incident, Roman ordered Logan to only answer Remus’s questions in private and for Remus to stop asking Deathworlder questions in public. His brother pouted but Roman was steadfast in his decision.

There was no surprise when Remus made it a point to ask the questions while in the Command Center in front of his brother. Logan found it difficult to not answer his curiosities, especially when he would purposefully spout incorrect facts in an effort to get the Human to answer.

As the only Human on board meant that Logan had to answer all the questions the crew put forth, the reason he had been sent on this voyage was to act as a source of information to his crew on the habits of Humans.

Being labeled a Deathworlder only proved to further Remus’s interest and most of the crew was protective of their Human. Logan had been fairly awkward in his interactions but the crew had found his honest attempts to learn their cultural behaviors endearing.

He taught himself Virgil’s language after the security officer had forgotten galactic common in the midst of an anxiety attack. When he learned that Emparas were a touch-oriented species, he had routinely offered Patton hugs at regular intervals and drew the crew’s attention to his need. The scientist had personally saved Captain Roman’s life by mocking an invader to divert his attention from the captain’s struggle to maintain shape under stress; one blast while destabilized would have killed him.

There had been a particular incident which had firmly solidified their need to protect the Human. Unlike most species onboard, the average Human could only hold their breath for a maximum of two minutes; Logan could only hold his breath for a few seconds.

They had landed badly on a planet's ocean and the lower decks had been flooded. No one had been too concerned until Logan, caught in the flooding when he had gone to speak with Virgil, started thrashing desperately. Thankfully, Virgil’s quick reaction had gotten the Human to air quickly.

Janus allowed Logan to look him over with Patton’s aid despite his previous experiences with scientists. Logan had been careful to telegraph his movements and inform Janus what he was doing every step of the way. The hybrid appreciated his efforts, especially when Logan would inform him of his findings and check in that a test was alright.

Together, Patton and Logan had discovered that Janus would have difficulty thermoregulating and scheduled time for him to lounge beneath a makeshift sun-lamp. They also found that his DNA was Human spliced with a reptilian species not local to Earth.

Logan’s prodding did make Janus a little uncomfortable but it was always done with explicit consent and awareness of the details of the tests to prevent unwanted surprises. Janus seemed even more comfortable with Remus in the room, which was allowed with the promise that he did not not interfere. That promise did not stop Remus from asking questions that made Patton squirm uncomfortably and make him glow purple in embarrassment.

As a result, the crew had become extremely protective of their fragile but strong Deathworlder. Sometimes, crew members would drop by to check in on him or to remind him of personnel meetings when he was distracted.

Even though the USS Sanders was a science ship dedicated to the exploration and discovery of new lifeforms, it did still have protective measures for emergencies. Such as when space pirates boarded.

Logan grunted as the leader of the mercenaries knocked him to the floor. His wrists were cuffed behind his back and a boot pinned him down. Virgil hissed as they trained their weapons on the scientist, only staying where he was because of how many weapons were trained on the others.

A hand grabbed a fistful of Logan’s hair and a voice hissed, “A Human, huh? There’s a big market for these, especially fighters.” Logan’s face remained impassive as he remarked, “I doubt I would be worth much.” The invader shrugged as they commented, “Not like I’d care. C’mon Deathworlder.”

Logan winced as the alien hauled him to his feet by his hair. Roman struggled to stand, a head wound sluggishly bleeding from the impact of the pirate’s ship firing at them. A pirate used the butt of their rifle to knock the captain down. Patton wrapped his arms around Roman, hiding his face behind the captain.

Janus stayed hidden behind debris, looking like a body crushed during impact. They had kicked his boot, unaware that Janus had only been battered by the force, and determined him to be a casualty of their boarding.

The leader of the mercenaries kept his hand in Logan’s hair and started towards the exit of the command center as he told the crew, “If anyone follows us, we’ll kill the Human. We got enough to keep us happy that we wouldn’t mind losing this piece.” He placed the barrel of his pistol against the scientist’s temple in demonstration.

Virgil let out a low hiss but stayed where he was as the leader ordered, “Start moving, Deathworlder.” Logan lurched as he was pushed into the corridor and forced to walk away from his friends. Roman tried to sit up but his mind was more focused on maintaining his form while the pirates walked away.

Patton tried to concentrate on locating the damage but found his mind straying as he cursed under his breath. Virgil jumped at the profanity before looking around the command center. Janus was slowly coming around, another crew member helping him sit up, and Patton was tending to Roman. The Araneus made a mental tally, trying to recall who he had seen during the raid before asking, “Has anyone seen Remus?”

Logan tried to stave off the panic trying to creep in as he realised the likelihood of his crew rescuing him in their condition was low. The leader grinned as he muttered, “A Human! And out here of all places! We’re gonna be rich!” Logan bit his lip to stay quiet as the pistol prodded his spine in a silent warning.

There was a choked off sound to the left and the gun against Logan’s back pressed harder against him. One of the pirates was no longer there, along with several others. The leader wrapped one of their four arms across Logan’s chest and jammed the pistol under his chin. Logan let out a grunt as his face was forced up to accommodate the weapon under his chin.

While the mercenaries searched the walls for their allies, Logan’s eyes found a familiar slime that coated the ceiling of the corridor. A pair of eyes surfaced for a moment to send the Human a wink before vanishing back into the mass. Logan kept his breathing steady as the leader called out, “I’m not frelling kidding, I’ll kill him!”

A set of tendrils wrapped around another pirate and he vanished into the shadows of the corridor, the eeriness increased by the damage done to the electrical system when the raiders arrived.

The other three remaining mercenaries tightened into a defensive circle as their leader proclaimed, “Show yourself or I’ll blow his frelling brains out! One... “

The one behind the leader was silent as they were pulled into the shadows on the floor.

“Two... “

The one on the right was yanked to the wall and coated in the slime on the ceiling.

“Three... “

A muffled scream to their left drew the leaders attention away long enough for Remus to slide down the wall in front of them.

Remus wrapped his hand around the barrel of the pistol and tore it away from the pirate’s hand. The pistol went flying as Remus’s tentacles wrapped around Logan and pulled him away from the pirate. Hands wrapped themselves around the leader’s throat as Remus assumed his humanoid form, tentacles obscuring and protecting Logan, and spat, “Not so fun being the prisoner is it!”

Logan could hear shrieks and growls but Remus’s tentacles kept him from seeing anything. The noises continued for a few moments before everything went quiet. Logan squirmed a little, shoulders aching from the prolonged position the cuffs held his arms in, but sat and waited for Remus to finish the fight.

“Remus?” Logan called, “Can you let me go?” There was a beat but the tentacles slowly withdrew as Remus felt Logan for injuries. Logan smiled as Remus pulled out a familiar code lock and pressed it against the cuff’s scanner. As soon as he was free, Logan rubbed his wrists to work feeling back into them. Remus helped Logan roll his shoulders and ease the ache from how he had been pushed around.

From around the corner, they heard Virgil yell, “Remus! Did you get him?!” Remus sighed as he called back, “Yep, the nerd’s safe!” Close behind the security officer was Patton, freckles a bright yellow and a scared look on his face.

Patton kneeled next to Logan on the floor and examined his wrists, glow turning red at the marks from the cuffs, while Remus spoke with Virgil. As they exchanged information, Patton focused on wrapping Logan’s wrists and looking him over. He noted the faint mark beneath his chin but realised it would fade.

Once he was sure that Logan’s wounds were treated properly, the Empara wrapped the Human in a hug. Logan jolted as Patton exclaimed, “Thank Nara you’re okay! I thought they were going to sell you and Roman was hurt and they had a gun pointed at your head!” Logan soothingly ran his fingers through Patton’s hair, careful to avoid his antennae.

Remus sighed as he told Virgil, “ I honestly wanted to tie their insides in a knot but I didn’t want to do it in front of Logan.” Virgil nodded as Remus pointed to all the spots he had shoved unconscious pirates, mostly holes in the walls caused by impact damage. Virgil tried very hard to keep amusement from showing up on his face but, based on Remus’s proud expression he had failed.

Crew members hauled the invaders from their hiding spots and placed them in specimen cages for lack of a better containment center. One of the crewmates in Command had sent a distress call to the local authorities, who had signaled their approach.

Logan allowed Patton to carry him to Medbay himself, obviously upset about the experience and Logan was not unwilling to let himself be held. However, the Human was not looking forward to Virgil hovering to reassure himself that Logan was safe or Patton’s need to oversee his recovery.

Roman was sitting up in one of the beds waiting for them, in spite of Patton’s order for him to rest. He saw the scientist allowing the medic to carry him and let out a sigh of relief. Virgil, always willing to help Patton with difficult patients, pushed Roman back against his pillows and scolded him. Roman retorted with something that Logan did not catch because Patton was fussing with his bed.

He reclined onto the pillows, letting out a satisfied groan when a tense muscle released, and listened as Virgil reprimanded, “I don’t care if your Faera healing is still working! If Patton says rest, you rest!” He heard Roman scoff as he countered, “Like you should be resting because we both know you’re about to freak out!”

“I’ll be fine! Just lay back down!”

“Not until you start your breathing exercises!”

“You are literally in no shape to be ordering me around!”

“I will do what I have to if it means my crew will be alright!”

“You’re barely maintaining your form!”

“That doesn’t matter right now. Sit down and breathe!”

He heard someone, most likely Virgil, inhale to deliver a counterargument when Patton cut in, “Both of you take a breather! Virgil, you sit with Roman and Roman if you don’t rest right now I swear to Nara I will use my power!” They both went quiet and Logan only just managed to smother a laugh as Virgil sat next to Roman, who instantly settled against the pillows.

A few minutes later, Remus walked in and dropped himself on Roman’s bed without a word. Roman cringed a little but moved over to make room as his brother wrapped his arms around him. Virgil smirked, clearly about to tease, but jumped when Remus’s tentacles laid themselves over Roman.

Patton smiled as he cooed, “Aww, so it is a Faera thing.” Roman glared but did nothing to remove his brother. Patton moved to a different bed and spoke in low tones to one of the other medics. After a hushed conversation, Patton returned and informed them, “Janus is alright, just a little tired and in his room now. A lot of people were injured but I think we didn’t lose anyone, thank goodness.”

He turned to Logan and said, “A few of the staff wanted me to tell you they’re glad you’re okay.” The medic shifted his gaze over to Roman as he added, “Remy said you’re an idiot but thanks.”

Logan recalled the officer as the one wearing a special visor to prevent their ability from affecting anyone. Officer Remy Sono worked in security under Virgil but recalled him as one of the best. Logan remembered that Remy had been in command when the pirates boarded. The insults he had spat at the leader was quite impressive, if a bit foolish. Logan would hate to think what could have happened if Roman had not drawn the pirates’ focus onto him.

He was drawn back to the present when he heard Roman reply, “You can tell him not to frelling mouth off at pirates like that and then he can call me an idiot.” From across the room they heard a voice call out, “Fight me you hingemot!” They started laughing as Roman called back, “You’d lose that fight, Officer Sono!”

There was laughter from the medical staff and a few conscious patients as Remy held his hand up in a gesture that made Patton gasp and scold, “There’ll be no using that hand sign if you don’t want me to confiscate that poison you’ve been drinking!” Remy let out a whine as Logan protested, “Coffee is not poisonous to everyone, please stop talking about it like that!”

There was more laughter as patients and staff began mocking the coffee drinkers in the room, both of them pretending to have gone to sleep to avoid the teasing. Eventually they relented when Roman remarked, “If you can mock our poison drinkers, you can get back to fixing the ship. Unless you want me to put Virgil in charge.”

The Araneus grinned at them and laughed at their horrified expressions. The crew returned to their tasks while their Captain, Head of Security, and Lead Scientist rested. The pirates were picked up a few minutes after Roman had finally fallen asleep.

Remus had pulled Virgil into the embrace with his brother while sleeping so the latter had no choice but to stay. Logan snickered loudly at the panicked expression when the tentacles had pulled Virgil on top of their captain. When Patton was not looking Virgil threw Logan the same gesture Remy had used earlier. The scientist smiled, almost smug, before settling in for a nap, thankful to still be on the USS Sanders and safe in Medbay.

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus #remy sanders #my personal space au #star trek similarities

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ggukcangetit · 4 years ago

Text

Dreamcatchers 6

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Summary: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: it’s been a while since i posted and even longer since i updated this fic but its still here and so am i! lol. updates are not gonna be very frequent but i have a list of works in progress that i plan to finish so there will be something or the other being posted at the most random moments.

also, reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

21st December

"Is this how you conduct a sample analysis?! Where did you even train? I've half a mind to report you and get you kicked out!!"

Yuri stopped at her desk, surprised to hear Seulgi's yelling so loudly that she could be heard all the way from the floor above. She was usually extremely calm and even-tempered, but the past couple of days had seen her irritable, snappy, and downright furious.

"Dr. Ahn sounds really angry," whispered Jisoo, clutching a file close to her chest. "I've never heard her yell at anybody before. I hope she's okay."

"I'm sure everything's fine," said Jeon, walking over to his desk and dropping a bunch of files on it. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Yuri raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless. They walked outside, standing near a clump of trees outside of earshot of anyone in the station.

"Guess who I've just brought in on suspicion of murder for the 2nd Nov case?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"No!" gasped Yuri. "Minhyuk?"

"Yep. He's been in the country for a while now. Fancy giving me a hand with the interview?"

"Me? I mean," she bit her lip. "I wasn't part of the original investigation."

"I know, but in light of what you've found out and the fact that you're now my partner, Goh thinks it's okay."

"You told Goh?!"

"I had to. I can't restart the investigation without his permission."

Jeon stared at her for a few moments, trying to gauge her reaction. "So, what do you say?"

"Alright. Let's nail this bastard."

Ahreum was late. She had a meeting with one of her professors to decide on which medical stream she'd specialize in. Despite using forensics as an excuse to distract Seulgi, she was seriously considering it now. Deciding to pursue medicine had been a drastic career switch for Ahreum, and a lot of people had questioned her decision relentlessly. But if there was something she had learnt in the years following her parents' divorce, it was patience and the ability to block out irrelevant conversations. Namjoon had always been immersed in his studies, barely affected by the bitterness existing between their parents. Ahreum, barely in high school, felt lost and helpless during those times. After the divorce, things had become less tumultuous and she was able to see her parents as individual entities. That was when she realized that her father was never going to like any of her decisions, no matter how hard she tried to please him, and her mother preferred to stay aloof at the best of times. Ahreum learnt pretty early in life, that she needed to be there for herself. She loved her brother and parents, though the latter a lot less than the former. Her decision to study English Literature and Creative Writing had been a spur of the moment one - dictated more by the fact that her high school boyfriend was going to study at a major Arts university. She didn't really regret any of her decisions. Her degree had led her to finding a hobby she adored - photography. And having a freelance job meant that she could stay with Namjoon - who earned a significantly larger amount than her - and move whenever he needed to move as well. This was also how she had met Taehyung 3 years ago - a happy coincidence of events when she had been taking pictures outside the museum at Seoul. They had started talking about art and photography, eventually realizing that they lived in the same part of the city. In addition to Yuri, she also considered Taehyung to be her best friend. She had seen him during one of his lowest moments when Seokjin had left home; and then some time later when he had found Seokjin living in the town Ahreum and Namjoon had recently shifted to, she had stayed by him as he grappled with his anger and frustration towards his older brother until an eventual reconciliation.

But at this moment, she was beginning to lose patience with him. Five minutes before she was about to leave for her meeting, she received a bunch of frantic texts from him.

8.25 am

T: ahreum?? are u up??

T: jimins still in custody

T: im so worried

8.26 am

T: u there?

T: i want to visit him...

T: will u come with me?

8.27 am

T: hey

T: ???

T: i didnt sleep much so i dont wanna drive there

8.28 am

T: are u sleeping?

T: ???

He knew she had a meeting today. He knew how important the meeting was for her. She had spoken about it many times. Not for the first time, Ahreum wondered whether Taehyung cared about her beyond what directly concerned him. If it wasn't somehow relevant to him, he never seemed to remember much. It was a careless apathy that had hurt her during the beginning of their friendship, but she had accepted it as a part of him.

Her meeting was at 9 am and she usually needed 20 minutes to get there on her bike. She closed her eyes and mentally rehearsed the points she was going to bring up during her meeting. Her phone pinged once more, breaking her concentration.

8.30 am

T: hey

T: can u pick me up?

She frowned and shot a quick text before pocketing her phone and strapping on her helmet.

A: sorry have a meeting... talk later

As Ahreum sped through the narrow lanes, she was convinced that there was no way she was going to talk to Taehyung today. He would have to manage on his own for once.

Yuri and Jeon sat across from a very nervous Park Minhyuk, his bloodshot eyes indicating that he had been brought in after a rough night.

"Good morning." Jeon began the interview, his notes stacked neatly in front of him. "You were very hard to get a hold of, Mr. Park. Specifically because your company categorically states that you've been out of the country for business."

"I-" His face was white as a sheet.

"When we called your office, we were told that you are often out of the country on business trips. Short trips," Jeon flipped through his notes. "A fortnight, 20 days at max. Your secretary was very obliging - he told us that you traveled on October 12th and returned on October 27th. Then left the country again on November 1st and returned on November 16th. Another trip between November 22nd and December 6th. And finally, one more on December 10th from which you still haven't returned."

"Your phone records are very interesting, Mr. Park," said Yuri, joining in. "I'm DI Choi, by the way, and I will be assisting DI Jeon as his partner on the case. Now -" she opened the file in front of her and took out a particular page - "is this your cell phone number?"

"Yes, but-"

"Our Telecomms division looked over recent activity over the last 3-4 months. While your office confirms that you have been on multiple trips out of the country from October onwards, your phone has been operating in Korea for almost two months. Can you tell us why?"

Minhyuk remained silent, his hands clenched on the table.

"Do you recognize this?" Yuri placed a plastic bag on the table and moved it towards him.

The remaining color drained from Minhyuk's face as he stared at the ring inside the plastic bag.

"Let me help you out, Mr. Park," she continued. "This is an heirloom from your mother's side of the family. There was three such rings - one buried with your mother, one on your brother's finger, and one found at the scene of Son Eunbi's murder. Can you tell us how your ring found its way to a murder scene?"

"I didn't kill her!" Minhyuk looked like he was going to pass out. Jeon poured some water into a glass and passed it to him.

"She was dead when I got there!" he said after gulping down the water. His hands were shaking by this point.

"If she was dead when you got there, why didn't you call the police?"

"I..."

Faced with a possible murder charge, Minhyuk looked frightened but not nearly as forthcoming with an alibi as one would have hoped.

"Mr. Park," Yuri spoke after a period of silence. "Did you know that Ms. Son had a three year old daughter named Gina?"

Minhyuk gulped, his eyes breaking contact with hers. He removed his hands from where they had been clenched on the table, choosing to hide them in his lap.

"Are you Gina's father?" she continued. Minhyuk head shot up at her question.

"H-how did-"

"When did you find out?" she asked.

Minhyuk sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I guess there's no point in denying it since you know everything." He reached out and finished the remaining water in the glass. "In October, after I came back from a trip, I happened to meet her by chance and Gina was with her. It was odd, the way that she tried to avoid talking to me. And the fact that Gina also had clear grey eyes."

For the first time since the interview started, Yuri realised the resemblance between the Park brothers was limited but striking. Their eyes were the exact same shade of grey - while Jimin looked cold and unwelcoming, Minhyuk's glasses did well to give him a warmer appearance.

"I asked her why she hadn't contacted me when she got pregnant. Or in the three years since Gina was born."

"What did she say?" asked Yuri, softly.

"She was scared that I wouldn't believe her." Tears had started to roll down his cheeks. "I loved her... so much. And then she just disappeared one day. I tried so hard to find her but..."

Jeon poured another glass of water for him.

"I told her how happy I was to hear about Gina. That I wanted us to be a proper family. I was willing to do whatever was necessary if that's what she wanted as well. I think she was beginning to warm up to the idea. I even told my father to postpone my next trip so that I could spend a little more time with both of them. But-"

"But?"

Minhyuk stared at his hands, looking tired and dejected. "He - uh, he wasn't happy when he heard about Gina. My father has very particular expectations."

"What did he say to you? Did he threaten you, Mr. Park?"

Minhyuk let out a soft chuckle. "My father doesn't threaten. He suggests."

"And what did he suggest you do about Gina and Eunbi?" asked Jeon.

"That I stay away from them. For the sake of my inheritance."

"And did you?"

"I was planning to... I-I was meant to travel the next day and I thought I would go and see her once more before I left. But when I got there..."

Minhyuk covered his face with his hands, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself.

"What happened when you got there, Mr. Park?"

"She was lying there... in a pool of blood. Gina was asleep in the back. I-I didn't kill her. You have to believe me."

Yuri and Jeon exchanged a quick look as Minhyuk protested his innocence. They were aware that the homeless man had killed Son Eunbi. The DNA found at the crime scene confirmed the fact that he had stabbed her. But they needed Minhyuk to give them as much information as possible.

"I'm afraid we do not conduct our investigations based on belief, Mr. Park," continued Yuri, shuffling her notes meaningfully. "You still haven't provided us with an alibi for that night. Strange thing - the Park family seem to have a particular aversion towards providing alibis. Your brother was also extremely resistant when we spoke to him."

"You spoke to Jimin? What for?" Minhyuk's expression had changed completely. He looked strangely alert.

"I guess you aren't aware that Jimin was arrested for the murder of Kang Eunwoo on December 15th." Jeon spoke deliberately, hoping to elicit a reaction. And he was successful.

"What?! That's impossible! There's no way he could've done that!"

"Why are you so certain of that?"

"Because he was with me on December 15th!"

"I'm sorry but we can't take you at your word. You can't even provide a proper alibi for yourself on the night of Son Eunbi's murder. How can we be sure that the two of you aren't just covering up for each other?"

It was then that Minhyuk realised that he would need to come clean. There was no way to save Jimin without telling them the entire story.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes. If it can help Jimin, I'm willing to risk my father finding out."

Yuri glanced at Jeon who gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"Go on."

"After I saw Eunbi... lying there, I couldn't leave Gina. No matter what my father had said, I couldn't leave my daughter in such a situation. So I... took her away with me."

"Where is Gina now, Mr. Park?" Yuri asked, frowning.

"She's safe."

"Where is she?" asked Jeon, sharply.

"In Busan. I have an apartment there and she's been with me since that day."

"Why didn't you tell the police that you had her? Why does your company believe that you are abroad on a business trip?"

Minhyuk rubbed his eyes tiredly and drank some more water. "I couldn't let my father find out. Jimin and I have an apartment in Busan that we bought under a different name. It was a place our father couldn't find us. Gina's been staying there with me since 2nd November."

"Are you sure your father thinks you're abroad? It doesn't seem like something easy to cover up."

"Jimin helped with that," said Minhyuk, leaning back into the cold metal chair. "He told father that I had run away because he hadn't been understanding of my situation with Gina and Eunbi. Jimin's good at convincing people - it's a talent he's barely ever put to good use."

"So Jimin knew that you were hiding in a secret apartment with your recently discovered daughter?"

"Yes, he did. I have an alibi for 2nd November. I was in a meeting till 9 pm and then stopped for drinks at a nearby fried chicken place till 11 pm. I was a bit tipsy after that, which is why I decided to visit Eunbi and Gina. After taking Gina away from there, I went to Jimin's place, got the keys to the apartment and drove straight there. I think I reached around 2 am."

Yuri jotted down all this information, making a note to check on every new detail that had been mentioned.

"What about December 15th? You said Jimin was with you. Why?" asked Jeon, folding his arms across his chest.

"We meet once a week to make sure everything is going okay," said Minhyuk, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Sundays are usually the best days for that."

"Where did you meet?"

"At the local ice-cream shop," Minhyuk frowned, trying to remember something. "You know the one near the end of town?"

"The Dairy Berry? Yes, I know which one you're talking about." Jeon gave Yuri a brief nod to confirm that this was a legitimate spot and not something Minhyuk was making up on the spot.

"Gina loves sweet things and I thought it would be easier to take her with me the same day I met Jimin. I think we were there till 10 pm. After that, I dropped Jimin at a bar and drove back home."

"Which bar was this?" asked Yuri.

"Sunset."

"And you drove straight home after that?"

"You can check the dash cam on my car and the security tapes at my apartment building, if you want."

"We definitely will, Mr. Park," said Jeon, surveying him carefully. "In the meantime, you will be in custody until we have verified each and every single thing you just told us. So I suggest you keep yourself hydrated."

Yuri could feel a pair of eyes on her as she spoke to Jisoo and Suho.

"We need to verify everything that Park Minhyuk told us. But there's a lot of ground to cover and we've lost quite a bit of time since the murder of Son Eunbi. So I suggest you recruit some uniformed officers as well." Jisoo jotted down the locations and the times they needed to verify, and nodded to Suho to indicate she had forwarded the details to him. "We need to get the information as soon as possible."

"Will do," said Suho, giving her a reassuring nod.

Yuri waited for them to leave before walking over to the person who had been watching her for a while.

"Did you want to talk about something?" she asked Seulgi.

"I-" Seulgi tugged at her sleek, high ponytail, looking oddly hesitant. She seemed in a better mood than earlier in the morning when she had almost scared one of the interns into leaving the country. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah- " Yuri checked the clock on her phone - "just a minute though. I'm waiting for Jeon to get a warrant from Goh."

"Did he-? I mean, Jimin, uh... have you...? You know-" It was strange to see her grappling for words. "Are you certain he's done it?"

Yuri stared at her for a second. This wasn't what she had been expecting Seulgi to talk about. The doctor's relationship with Jimin was even more puzzling than she had originally perceived it.

"We're looking into it right now." She paused, trying to gauge Seulgi's reaction. "But you already know about the blood sample match - that, in itself, is pretty damaging."

"Y-yeah, I know."

Before Yuri could say anything more, Jeon came out of the Chief Inspector's office. "We've got a warrant to search Minhyuk's apartment. Let's go."

Glancing one more time at Seulgi's ashen face, Yuri put on her coat and scarf and followed Jeon out the exit.

Once inside Jeon's car, Yuri debated whether or not she should attempt to engage him in conversation. Her decision was made for her when he drove onto the main road, and lowered the volume of the police scanner.

"What was Seulgi saying?" he asked, his eyes focused on the road.

"Just where we were in the investigation."

"I see."

Yuri fiddled with the button on her coat, itching to say more.

"What's the deal with her and Jimin?" she finally asked.

"I- what do you mean?" Jeon raised his eyebrow and gave her the most puzzled expression he could muster while trying to stay focused on the crazy traffic.

"Their relationship is... weird. He keeps flirting with her, and she is on the verge of ripping his guts out at every given moment. But just now, she seemed almost worried about him."

"I don't really know... they've never really seen eye-to-eye on much." Jeon checked the rear view mirror to make sure he was clear before deftly changing lanes. "Jimin has always been the person who tries his utmost to push everyone's buttons. And Seulgi... well, she has a lot of buttons."

Yuri snorted loudly. "That tells me nothing and everything at the same time. You really have a way with words, Jeon."

He smirked at this, his eyes never leaving the road. "So does that mean you trust me now?"

"No." She looked at him and caught the way his face fell slightly at her response. "But who knows what the future holds..."

The smirk was back.

Ahreum had a terrible headache. She usually didn't get many headaches. So on the rare occasion that she did, it put her in a really terrible mood. The only person who knew how to handle this situation properly was Namjoon. He knew that she needed silence, dim lighting, green tea, fresh bread, and absolutely no unexpected company.

So when Ahreum got home after her grueling 3 hour long meeting, hoping to relax and recuperate, she wasn't too pleased to find Taehyung sitting in her living room, playing a very loud game on his tablet.

"You're back!" he yelled, once she slammed the door to make her presence felt. "I've been waiting for hours. How was your meeting?"

"'S okay," she replied, shortly. Taking off her coat, she opened the middle cabinet in the kitchen and searched for the green tea.

"Great! So do you wanna go and visit Jimin now?"

"No."

"What? Why not? You don't have anything else to do right now. Just come with me. Please!" He had walked into the kitchen and was standing in front of her with a pout on his lips.

As endearing as she always found his antics, Ahreum was at breaking point. She placed the cup on the counter with a loud clink, and turned to face him.

"Because I don't have time to follow you on your every whim, Taehyung. Because I have a life of my own. Because I am studying medicine, which, if you aren't aware, is a very taxing occupation." She paused for a breath, as his mouth fell open in shock. "Because I am not your babysitter. Or your handler. Or your caretaker. And I'm tired of being responsible for you. You're a grown ass adult and it's about time you acted like one."

"Ahreum, I'm-" His eyes were wide and worried, and she felt a tiny sliver of remorse. "I don't think you're my babysitter or handler or whatever. You're my best friend."

"I thought so too. In fact," she said, looking away from him. "I thought we were, or we could be, more."

"W-what? Ahreum?" Taehyung sounded so lost and confused that she was tempted to console him.

She walked to the front door and held it open for him. "I think you should leave now. I'm tired, I have a headache, and I don't want to be around anyone right now."

"Wait! What did you mean by that?" he asked, hesitantly standing at the entrance.

"I'm tired, Taehyung. I don't have the energy to explain everything to you. Now, please," she began closing the door slowly. "I want to rest."

"It's clear!" The uniformed officer confirmed to them, before opening the door further.

"Okay, let's see whether little Gina is here," instructed Jeon, his face drawn into a frown.

Yuri nodded and walked into the room on the left of the large living area. It was a study of sorts, with a large wooden desk, a swiveling chair, and shelves upon shelves of books. She quickly checked to see if there was anyone in the room before shouting "clear!". There was another door connecting to a smaller room, it's walls bathed in bright sunlight and smelling of soft lavender. This was clearly some sort of guest room, judging by the inconsistent decor theme. The furniture looked sleek and modern, but the sheets on the bed were soft and pastel colored. A bunch of soft toys stood leaning against the flat screen tv, and Yuri realised that this was probably the room that had been hastily fixed up for a small child's unexpected stay. And sure enough, soft strands of brown hair peaked through the large covers on the bed.

She walked over to the bed slowly, not wanting to startle the child. Yuri barely managed to stifle a gasp as she looked into the child's clear grey eyes - the same color as both Park Minhyuk and Park Jimin.

"Hello," she said, softly. "Are you Gina?"

The little girl nodded, bringing the covers closer towards her.

"I'm a police officer. I help catch bad people." She didn't respond, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Do you want to go to your dad, Gina?" She nodded vigorously, sitting up at the mention of her father. "Okay, we will. But first, tell me, are you okay? Do you feel pain anywhere?"

The little girl shook her head.

"Are you sleepy?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Are you hungry?"

Slowly, she nodded her head.

"Okay, we'll go and see your dad, and also get you something to eat. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

It was just after 2 pm and Yuri felt completely drained. After they had found Gina, she had insisted on returning to the station to ask Jimin about his alibi for the night of Kang Eunwoo's murder. From what she had understood, he had refused to provide an alibi to protect his brother and keep him out of the police's radar until the situation with Gina worked out. Even though she still couldn't get herself to consider him a pleasant person, his desire to protect his brother had humanized him a great deal in her eyes.

Sure enough, once he was made aware that Minhyuk had come forward and spoken about his daughter and the events of the past month and a half, Jimin looked much less hostile than before.

"I was at Sunset from around 10.30 pm to closing time - which is 2 am," he said, sighing tiredly and rubbing his face with his hands. "You can confirm with them."

While Minhyuk and Jimin's alibis were verified, Yuri received a text from Namjoon, asking her and Jeon to meet him at Seokjin's bakery. It was barely a 2 minute drive there, so Jeon suggested they get lunch over there and make it before Goh finished compiling the list of paperwork for them to finish.

The smell of freshly baked milk bread wafted out of the kitchen, adding another layer of warmth to Seokjin's cozy shop. The man in question picked up the large tray filled with various different confections, and brought it over to the table by the window.

"Peach danish and americano for Namjoon, chocolate fudge brownie and vanilla bean ice cream for Jeongguk, and a snow croissant and hot chocolate for Yuri." He placed everything on the table, before grabbing his lukewarm cup of tea and sitting down with them.

"So you finally find the child, then?" asked Seokjin, sipping the tea. He made a face at the odd taste that tea acquires when it's between comfortingly steamy and soothingly chilled.

"Yeah we did," Yuri replied, when her partner remained silent. "Goh is dealing with Minhyuk and the custody charges. It's no longer in our jurisdiction."

"Namjoon, how's grad school treating you?" Seokjin diverted the conversation, realising that his friend wasn't ready to talk about the case at that moment. "How much longer do you have?"

"A few more months and I should be done." Namjoon wiped the pastry flakes from the corner of his mouth and nearly tipped over his americano in the process. Yuri chuckled at this, suddenly remembering those random moments in high school where Namjoon was a lot thinner and less confident, but still had a propensity for knocking things over.

"Remind me why you're putting yourself through this?" Seokjin broke off a piece of the peach danish and popped it into his mouth.

"The last time I tried to explain that, you spaced out and created a new pastry recipe for your menu. As much as I like helping your business flourish, I'm gonna preserve my energy and only talk about things when necessary."

Seokjin chuckled and picked up a spoon from the dispenser. "Jeongguk, can I get a bit of ice cream from you?" There was no response, and looking at him for confirmation Seokjin's eyebrows shot up in alarm.

"Okay okay, I won't eat any of your ice cream. You don't have to tear up about it!"

Yuri and Namjoon turned towards him as well, not sure what to do when they saw tears slowly sliding down Jeongguk's cheeks.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" asked Namjoon, patting his shoulder softly.

They sat in silence, as Jeongguk sobbed softly and wiped his face with his coat sleeve. He turned towards Yuri, his eyes glazed with tears but holding a soft radiance unlike what she was used to.

"Thank you."

Yuri felt her face heat up suddenly. This wasn't what she had been expecting. The soft sincerity in his voice startled her. It was nothing like the person she had met only a week ago. She looked away abruptly and nodded her head.

"There's nothing to thank me for. This is our job."

Jeongguk smiled and resumed eating the disgustingly sweet dessert combination in front of him. He nudged Seokjin to take some ice cream like he had originally intended. There was silence once more, but this time, it was very different.

Back at the station, Yuri finished the paperwork for the day. There was a lot to complete, and since they had stopped at Seokjin's for a break, they had lost some time as well. Goh had been very clear about completing all the paperwork for social services to take over the case from them now that Gina had been found.

It was barely even 5 pm but Yuri felt a large yawn coming on for the third time in the past few minutes. She wasn't sure how long she would be able to carry on without getting proper sleep at night. At this rate, she would eventually burn out. There was only so much coffee could do for her.

A light tap brought her attention to another person standing in her cubicle. She looked up to see Jeon holding two steaming cups of ramen, tilting his head slightly to confirm whether it was okay for him to sit down.

"Did you need anything?" she asked, after moving her slightly. He placed the ramen on her desk and pulled up his own chair and sat down.

"I've got a peace offering," he gestured to the ramen. "I wanted to apologize properly for being an absolute dickhead to you. I-" He hesitated, looking down at his hands that lay clenched on his lap - "I don't really have an excuse for my behavior but I had a lot on my mind. Particularly about finding the little girl. And, well... you really don't know what solving this case means to me."

Once again, Yuri wasn't sure how to react. She felt embarrassed that he was thanking her for doing her job - something that he did as well. While she appreciated his apology, his entire being remained confusing to her.

"Don't worry about it," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And thanks for the ramen; food is always appreciated."

Thankfully, her computer ping-ed with a new email before the atmosphere could get any more awkward.

"Okay, we've confirmed Minhyuk's alibi's for 2nd November and 15th December. He wasn't involved in either murder. Jimin was with Minhyuk till 10.15 pm on 15th December - his car's dash cam confirms that he dropped Jimin off at Sunset bar around that time."

"Fantastic! And what about the CCTV footage at Sunset? Does it confirm Jimin's story? He said he was there till 2 am."

"Hang on, I'm opening the report. Th-" she stopped abruptly, frowning at the screen.

"What?" asked Jeon, looking over her shoulder to read the email.

"CCTV footage does not place Jimin at Sunset from 10.15 pm till closing time at 2 in the morning. He doesn't have an alibi for Eunwoo's murder."

She turned to look at him, an odd sense of foreboding hitting her as she realized that they would have to charge Jimin for murder by the next evening. He held her gaze, his dark eyes reflecting a similar shadow of doubt.

please reblog and leave a comment if you liked this part! thank you! 😊

#bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fluff #taehyung #seokjin #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #bts fluff #bts bookclub #btswritingcafe #bangtanhq #magicshopnet

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spicysoftsweet · 5 years ago

Text

A Very Important Episode starring Hisoka

Or the one where Hisoka learns Bungee Gum is not a food group.

A/N: We all know that Hisoka likes candy and Bungee Gum but we would like to encourage Hisoka to make healthier choices and prevent diabetes complications. There will possibly be a part 2. I hope this is educational.

---

This time Hisoka had actually done it. He’d actually managed to fuck up his entire body beyond what he could repair with Bungee Gum or Machi’s services - which she was charging higher and higher for - and now he was somewhere almost unthinkable - an emergency room.

“Illumi~~~~” he half-sang, half-whined now that he was finally lucid, after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy to stabilize his profuse internal bleeding - the surgeons had been in awe of just how much of his body had been purely synthetic due to Texture Surprise exclaiming that he’d be an incredible case to write up - and being amped up full of pain meds. He probably didn’t need the pain meds, but it was fun to go in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual night of sleep.

His unwilling friend sat at the side of his hospital bed, legs crossed and focusing his jarringly large, black eyes at the fluid and blood that was being transfused into him by IV drip. A small part of him was surprised that Hisoka could be transfused with regular looking blood and regular looking fluid. He was almost sure that he was made up purely of nonsense and Bungee Gum.

“Illumi~” Hisoka moaned dramatically a second time. His gaze slid now to him, with lips pressed into a flat line of distaste.

“Don’t ever use my name as your emergency contact again.”

Illumi had to hide the fact that he was impressed Hisoka could spell clearly enough to make out the letters of his name and had actually retained his phone number. He had been surprised to get a call, but made his way over as soon as he had finished gutting an enemy and stringing them up for display as requested in his latest contract. The idea of Hisoka being dead was incredibly alarming, for he did enjoy his health and company, but also sparked a morbid curiosity in him. Could Hisoka actually die?

“But you came, didn’t you?” Hisoka teased, with a shit-eating grin.

He had him there.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a young woman in a white coat, followed by a taller man wearing a pair of scrubs came in. The young woman glanced at Hisoka and then Illumi, visibly wincing at the hard stare of the latter in the semi-dark room, then raised her badge to introduce herself.

“H-hello, I’m Dr. Rhgyl, I-” her eyes flickered to Illumi briefly, unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t yet blinked in the past two minutes, then shifted back to Hisoka, whose devilish smile was almost more unsettling. “I was one of your surgeons and am here to answer any questions you have.”

She turned to Illumi, and gave a nervous nod of the head. “And who is in the room with you, Mr. Morow?”

“My husband,” he said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Illumi gave him a glare, then crossed his arms.

“Sure,” was all he said.

Sure, what? What is sure? Just answer the damn question... The poor young doctor’s face fell as she already knew this was something she’d have to spend unnecessary minutes during her already excessively long call night clarifying in her documentation. She turned to her nurse behind her, who gave her a small shrug.

“So uh, Mr. Morow, how is your pain?”

“It’s wonderful!”

The doctor again tried to conceal her internal screaming, and continued to keep her professional smile plastered on her face. “In that case, please let us know if you have any more pain, and your nurse will take care of it.”

“We do have one other issue, however, “ she added, making sure to communicate this next part as clearly and effectively as possible. Hisoka perked up in surprise, and Illumi continued to sit perfectly still, as still as a statue. “Your blood sugar. Your blood sugar was extremely elevated, and we were concerned about a diagnosis of prediabetes or diabetes.”

“Diabetes?”

“We expect you to make a fast recovery… surprisingly fast in fact, but we would still like you to follow up with a primary care doctor about your blood sugar. We’ll draw a lab test to check how your sugars were for the past 3 months, called a Hemoglobin A1c test, and then we’ll have your primary care doctor follow up the results and help you with strategies to have better control.”

Illumi turned to Hisoka, who he could tell that whatever the medical team was telling him was going in one ear and out the other, and he was now only thinking about either his next fight or Bungee Gum based on the elated smile on his face.

Bungee Gum.

Bungee Gum was the fucking problem.

As the doctor and the nurse finally exited out of the room and Hisoka went back to telling Illumi battle stories, Illumi started to clear his schedule in his head, to figure out when he could best drag Hisoka to his follow-up appointments, which he would have to make for him. Someone had to be the adult in this relationship.

---

Hisoka’s new primary care doctor, another similarly young woman, but less easily intimidated as the tired one from the hospital sat at a computer, pulling up his chart to review his lab results from his hospitalization.

Illumi and Hisoka noticed how she visibly paled as she scrolled, then turned to Hisoka and gave him a reassuring smile, that looked to reassure her more than them.

“What is it? Am I dead?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a look to quiet down.

“Well, you’re diabetic, all right... Your A1c is 14%.”

“Is that bad?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him, hands in her lap.

“Well, diabetes is diagnosed at an A1c of 7%. So... unfortunately, yes.”

Hisoka started counting on his fingers and Illumi forcefully put his hand down.

“Hisoka, listen to the doctor. Diabetes is serious. My great-grandaunt was diabetic.” Illumi said in an even, impassive voice.

“Oh, how old was she when she was diagnosed?” The doctor asked, attempting to build rapport with the patient and the patient’s loved ones.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “206, exactly. She loved nothing more than to unwind with Mountain Dew after her assassination missions. She ended up on dialysis.”

The doctor seemed to be at a loss of words briefly, so she turned back to Hisoka, pulling out a pen and a notepad to focus on rather than lose her cool.

“So, uh… let’s start by talking a little about what you usually eat,” she began. “What do you eat in a typical day?”

“Hm... “ Hisoka didn’t usually keep track of what he ate, so it took him some time to come up with an account. “Ah! Okay, so in the morning, I usually skip breakfast, but sometimes I’ll have some Bungee Gum.”

Odd choice, the physician thought, but she nodded and wrote that down, allowing the floor to Hisoka to speak.

“For lunch, I try not to eat too much, but I also have a couple pieces or ten of Bungee Gum.”

Hm…

“Oh and for dinner, I have a bowl of gummy candy if I’m feeling particularly peckish and also Bungee Gum.”

She looked up from her pad and paper to see Hisoka looking blissfully unaware that he had just revealed that he subsists solely on sweets. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pull at her hair repeatedly. This would be a ton of education, and she still wasn’t exactly sure what exactly Bungee Gum was.

---

Illumi parked his custom Ferrari minivan, purchased entirely for this shopping trip, outside the Costco Wholesale, and gave Hisoka, a long, hard look.

“Do you have the list?” Illumi asked, hand outstretched as Hisoka handed over a partially crumpled sheet of paper, outlining the basics of a balanced, carbohydrate-controlled diet for people with diabetes.

Hisoka looked outside to the large building, then looked back at Illumi. “Isn’t this for families? I thought we were shopping for me only, and sometimes you when you come over.”

“I don’t know, the butlers told me that they come here to stock the kitchens. It seems from the website that this store provides high quality bulk goods for very competitive prices so this will be an appropriate next stop.”

This was just one out of countless stops today - Hisoka had spent the earlier part of the day searching frantically for sugar-free Bungee Gum in every supermarket in a 25-mile radius unsuccessfully, and demanding to see the manager every time, only to kill them when they told him they didn’t have his particular brand. Illumi warned him that there would be no such shenanigans any longer.

They stepped out of the car and walked right past the door greeter who was waiting eagerly for them to present their membership card only to recoil once they both turned to look at him in unison with intent to kill.

The first things Hisoka noticed as he walked in were the multiple little free sample kiosks at the aisles every so often and curiously wandered over to them.

“Make sure to avoid anything glazed or with a sauce,” Illumi called after him, poring through the list as he wandered over to the produce aisle. He didn’t understand the draw of free samples; if he wanted to try something, he would simply buy it.

Hisoka made his way to Illumi and Illumi’s overfilled grocery cart about a half-hour later after wandering the entire store, arms filled with small paper cups and tasting spoons. It was clear that he had sampled literally everything, possibly twice or thrice. Illumi let out a sigh and moved to the front of the store to check out.

Keeping Hisoka’s blood sugar low would be a daunting task, but he was determined that by the next visit to his PCP, he’d have some improvement in his A1c. Texture Surprise can only replace so many amputated limbs at once. He’d just have to buy every supermarket’s supply of Bungee Gum and possibly halt every single production chain devoted to it or something similar. A pain, but it was worth it. Hisoka was annoying as all hell, but still, he was worth it.

#hisoillu #hisoka #illumi #bungee gum #hunter x hunter #serious business #serious writing #crack fic?#remember to eat a balanced diet

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kaleidescope-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Faithfully Yours--Chapter 2: Mornings & Gossip

In partnership with @accio-boys

Billionaire!Tom Hiddleston x Doctor!Reader

Slow Burn! (Yay)

Warnings: Swearing, causing a scene, fluff, and a cliffhanger😈

Masterlist

“Absolutely not!” you blurted. The guests, who were paying full attention to your mother, turned to look at you. Many of them had a look of surprise from your mother’s announcement, your sudden exclamation added on to their shock and mild confusion. Your mother, on the other hand, quickly changed her expression from shock to mild anger. “Darling,” she began through gritted teeth, “Let’s have a chat. In private.” She turned to the guests, tone going back to what it was before, “As for our guests, you are free to mingle.” She walked over to you, grabbing your arm harshly and leading you to a secluded corner of the room.

“What the hell was that, YN?” your mother hissed, not letting your arm go. “Mom,” you began, “I’m not going to marry anyone. Especially not him!” She let go of your arm, pushing you back a little in the process, “You have to. This is for the good of the family. Whatever objection you have, suck it up!” You sighed in frustration, “Suck it up? Mom, I’m a top doctor at a hospital! I have zero time to waste on assholes that are charming with everyone else but almost run me over when I get off work!” She took a step closer to you, “This is for the family! You’ll still be a doctor after the wedding! You’re marrying him. That’s final!”

“No!” you shouted, earning the attention of two particular people you desperately wanted to avoid. “Is there a problem, Y/N?” Mr. Hiddleston asked, approaching you and your mother. She glared at you, silently urging you to answer wisely--deny that there was a problem. You gave her a challenging look, eyes never leaving hers, “Actually, yes there is.” You felt both men get closer to you, yet you didn’t break the visual standoff with your mother. “And what might the problem be?” Tom asked, making your stomach turn. “The problem is that I’m not going to marry you, Tom!” you snapped harshly, “Look, it’s been a long day. I had enough to worry about between my job and the first wedding announcement, I don’t need this.” You motioned to your general area, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m a busy doctor and a lot of patients rely on me to keep doing my job instead of marrying,” you looked Tom up and down, “assholes in black jaguars.”

Before anyone could say anything, you walked over to the counter and picked up your purse, continuing your strut out the door. You didn’t even bother to say goodbye to anyone, too enraged to face anyone else in the room. All you wanted was to go back to your office, bury your face in your frustration pillow, and scream. You had no intention to have any social interactions with anyone for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up on the couch in your office was never ideal, but sometimes it was better than being home. Today was sometimes. You sat up, stretching as you slowly opened your eyes to adjust to the light in the room. Letting your arms drop, you looked at the watch on your right wrist. Six A.M. Lovely. You stood up, yawning as you made your way to your personal bathroom. Opening up the mini drawer you kept extra clothes in, you settled on something to wear and placed it on the sink. Looking up to see your reflection in the mirror, you took note of your disheveled hair and decided to braid it today. You let little things occupy your mind, welcoming the temporary distractions before starting the day. You needed a clear mind to keep an excellent job performance.

You walked into the cafeteria, feeling fresh and ready to start the day. Picking up a small breakfast selection and drink, you walked over to a table occupied by some doctors you were close with. “Hide your shit, boss is here!” Isabel gasped playfully. You laughed, “Breaking your commitment, Dr. Teixido?” Lucille scoffed, “Isabel, the poster child? No way.” You sat down, already beginning to dig in to your meal.You silently listened to the conversation around you quietly as you ate, reacting every once in a while. You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting with them, but you unknowingly finished your food. Just as you were about to excuse yourself from the table, you saw someone else approach the table.

“Y/N! You’re not going to believe this!” Luke said, out of breath from running around looking for his friend. Before you could question what he was talking about, he showed you the article on his phone. Your stomach dropped and you took the phone from him. “What’s going on?” Isabel asked, concerned about your sudden change. “Twitter has been going crazy over the possibility of a romance between a beloved billionaire and the head of New York’s best hospital,” you read, “Billionaire Bachelor Tom William Hiddleston has been shipped with Dr. Y/N L/N from Rose Valley Hospital and Medical Center by thousands of twitter followers, all claiming they’re the “it couple” of the century.” You felt your internal organs begin to turn in discomfort. What the hell?! The other doctors looked at you, all confused as to why you were reacting so negatively.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” you questioned, frustration returning in full swing. “He’s only the most eligible bachelor by far,” Lucille answered, “His parents are millionaire CEO's of a multi-million dollar company. He works in that company and has a fortune of his own. He’s also incredibly hot.” You gave her a look of absolute disgust, unable to understand her attraction. “He’s also an absolute douche-bag. A rich, cocky, unpleasant douche-bag,” you rebuked. Isabel gave you a look, “Why are you so against him?”

“I’d rather not give him more attention than he deserves,” you replied bitterly, handing Luke his phone. “He almost hit Y/N with his car,” he said simply. Teigan turned to Luke, finally deciding to join into the conversation, “I’m sorry, he what? When did this happen?” You put your head in your hands, “Yesterday! Right before my mother told me she made arrangements so that I have to marry the guy.” The group fell silent. An uncomfortable tension filled the air around you. Looking up, you gave them all an expectant look, urging them to say something. They were all silent. Luke shook his head, “Now you won’t say something about how dreamy he is?” Isabel opened her mouth to speak, words falling short as she looked between you and Luke.

You groaned, letting your head fall momentarily before getting up from your seat. “I have work to do. I have to catch up on all the work I put off last night thanks to the damn announcement,” you said as you grabbed your things and walked away from the group. You didn’t think you’d have to tell them so soon, but the article had to exist. Much to your displeasure. Walking out into the hallway, you slowed your pace as your work phone rang. You answered the call, coming to a complete stop near the wall. The voice on the other end of the line made your stomach drop for the second time that morning.

“How the hell did you get this number?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Six-thirty A.M. That’s what the clock on the stove read. Meaning that any moment now, Vivienne would come running down the stairs and get her stuff ready for school. Tom went back to preparing her breakfast knowing that he would hear her coming down. Sure enough, he heard the pattering of the eight-year-old coming down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Good morning, uncle Tom!” she greeted in her usual cheery voice. Tom smiled, turning around to face her, “What, no good morning hug? Have you grown out of hugging your uncle already, Vivie?” Vivie smiled at him, running over to him to have him a quick hug. Tom leaned down to hug her back, smile widening as he did.

“Anything exciting happening in class today?” He asked, pulling away from her and going back to the food. “We’re starting a new book today. The teacher hasn’t told us about it because it’s a surprise,” she smiled as she sat down on a chair, placing her backpack on the counter. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” Tom laughed, “You’re just like me, you know. Now sit patiently for a bit while I finish with breakfast.” Vivie nodded, pulling her tablet out of her bag and opening one of the educational game apps. Tom continued with the two omelets as the room filled with the sounds of Vivie’s game. This was his every morning, making sure Vivie was ready for school before the bus picked her up and getting ready for work himself. This was what his life was composed of, and he was happy. He didn’t feel the need to marry a stubborn, know-it-all doctor. Even if his father thought Vivie needed a mother, he could do much better than Y/N L/N. And if they did get married, she would never have time for Vivie like he does. She said it herself, she’s a busy person. She has patients to take care of.Y/N L/N has no time for family whatsoever. Besides, Tom didn’t want Vivie to grow up as bitchy and grouchy as her.

Deciding the omelets were ready, he grabbed the spatula to his left and took them out of the pan one at a time and placed them onto separate plates. He didn’t notice the sounds from Vivie’s game had gone silent until now and he grew suspicious. Both plates in hand, he turned to the counter where Vivie sat and instantly noticed her reading something. “What’s that you’re reading?” he asked as he put both plates on the counter. Vivie looked up at him confused, “Who’s Y/N?” Tom’s smile faded, holding his hand out to her. Vivie gave him the tablet, still waiting on his answer.

Tom began reading through the article on the screen, a feeling of dread washing over him. “Shit,” he whispered, looking at the blurry picture of them together. “Is this bad?” Vivie asked, still trying to get him to respond. Tom snapped out of his shock, looking at her before he spoke, “Yes--well, not really. It just means I have to make a call. Keep an eye on my food, please. And don’t even think about switching it with yours while I’m gone.”

Taking out his phone as he walked over to the window in the kitchen, he dialed the number of his assistant. “James, I need you to find someone’s phone number for me,” Tom ordered as soon as he picked up, “Her name is Dr. Y/N L/N. She works at Rose Valley, I believe.” There was shuffling on the other end before James asked, “Is this about the article?” Tom sighed, “Yes, now please find it for me. It’s urgent.”

There was a brief silence before James began to read the numbers out to Tom, which he quickly wrote down on the kitchen chalkboard. He thanked James before hanging up and beginning to dial her number. As soon as she picked up, he rushed out, “We need to talk.”

“How the hell did you get this number?” she asked, sounding surprised and angry all at once. “You’re a famous doctor, I’m surprised you don’t know how easy it is to find it,” Tom scoffed, “Look, that’s not important now. We need to talk in person. There’s an article going around--” “Yes, I know about the article,” Y/N interrupted, “Why does it need to be in person?” Tom sighed, “This is urgent.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You left the hospital early for the second time this week. It wasn’t your idea, but an article had to appear the day after you were told you’d be forced to marry a millionaire. And now, said millionaire wanted to talk, claiming it was too urgent to talk about over the phone. So you found yourself on an elevator of the Empire State Building, heading up to the balcony at the top. The sun had set earlier, making the city lights shine outside.

The elevator came to a stop, doors opening and allowing you to continue your journey to meet with him. As soon as you walked out into the balcony, you saw him looking down at the city with his hands in his pockets, back turned to you. You stopped in your tracks, deciding to maintain some distance between the two of you. He sensed your presence and fixed his posture, keeping his back to you. You cleared your throat, preparing yourself for whatever his purpose was.

“So what do you want to talk about?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Done!! It took a while, but it is posted!! I hope you enjoyed today’s Chapter. What did you think? Let me know in the comments as feedback is both appreciated and encouraged. Ok, I promised something else today, and rest assured it will happen. I love you, Stay Safe, Stay Proud, Be careful, and I’ll see you in a bit!!

Taglist is OPEN

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#tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddelson #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston #thomas hiddleston #tom hiddles #loki fanfic #thomas william hiddleston #loki fandom #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki x y/n

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royalcordelia · 5 years ago

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The Secret of Distance (2/?)

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn’t easy, but they’re more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

Notes: If you want to be tagged when the next chapter is posted, I can do that! I’ve seen others do that, and wanted to throw it out there.

~~*~~

Gilbert had grown so accustomed to the rattling of the window on the side of his face, that as the train slowed to a stop, he roused from his sleep. Around him, passengers shuffled on tired feet down the aisle of the train, but Gilbert squinted tiredly, adjusting to his surroundings. Where was he again?

Outside the train, a sign was lit up by electric lights: “Welcome to Toronto, Ontario.”

Oh, that’s right, he thought to himself, I’m going to medical school. At 4:30 in the morning it seemed. As he grabbed his trunk, his brain felt like it was trudging through mud. He’d left PEI on a ship to the mainland, then situated himself on the train for a fifteen hour trip. And he had kissed Anne.

That woke Gilbert up. He had kissed Anne at exactly noon yesterday, and she had kissed him back. He kissed Anne. She tasted the way he expected sunshine would taste if you could jar it like honey. She fit perfectly against him when he pulled her close, drawn to him as strongly as he was to her. Soft hair framed her face, feathery tufts that grazed his fingers when he held her cheek. He’d never forget the sight of her, so beautifully grown, yet so breathtakingly Anne . The thought was distracting enough that he didn’t realize his footsteps had slowed to a halt in the middle of the path.

He might’ve stood there forever, burning the memory of Anne’s kiss into his mind, but a drunkard rambled past him, colliding with his shoulder. Gilbert stumbled on his feet, righting his coat on his shoulders with a bristled frown. He needed to find his new apartment before he was swept away into whatever unsavory things happened at four in the morning.

From one of his hidden inside pockets, he pulled out a note in Miss Stacy’s familiar script.

Gilbert,

Emily couldn’t get you into a boarding house because of your late admission. She does, however, know a young man who has an extra room in his apartment. He’s agreed to let you board with him, and will leave the door unlocked so you may let yourself in. You’ll find Ronald Stuart at 293 North Sunset St - the right hand apartment.

Good luck on all your endeavors! I know you’ll exceed beyond our expectations.

Your Exceedingly-Proud Educator,

Miss Muriel Stacy

Gilbert didn’t know much about this Ronald Stuart, but had sent the young man a letter telling him when to expect him. Part of him was glad he wouldn’t be living under the supervision of an owner of a boarding house, like Anne certainly would be. If he found this Ronald Stuart agreeable, they could become close friends and enact their own rules, answering only to themselves and to each other.

The house on 293 North Sunset St. was a sizeable place built of bricks the same color as the PEI roads back home. Gilbert snuck as quietly as he could up the creaky stairs leading to the door of his new apartment, before twisting the door knob. Stubbornly, it refused to budge.

Gilbert peaked at the house number, then his note, then tried the door again, this time with more strength. Maybe Ronald hadn’t gotten his letter in time? Maybe he’d forgotten to leave the door unlocked.

There was nothing to do about it. He rapped his knuckles hard enough on the door that the noise likely could be heard by the next door neighbors. Even so, the door remained closed. The chilly August air was beginning to sink into his bones. Gilbert knocked again, more aggressively this time.

“I hear ya, I hear ya!” came a voice from inside the house. Gilbert took a step back from the door, steeling himself for whatever would come once the door opened. A shadowy figure appeared behind the curtains before the door swung open.

Gilbert cleared his throat. “Mr. Stuart?”

The fellow before him was a tall one, lanky with hard angles. His dark hair was a mop upon his head where long, straight hair stuck out in all directions. Long eyebrows quirked back at Gilbert, who clenched his jaw.

“Gil?” the man answered back. Gilbert cocked his head. No one called him Gil. Not even Bash or Anne.

“Yes, that’s me. Gilbert Blythe. The door was locked, otherwise I’d have let myself in.”

Ronald ran a hand through his hair, tousling it into an even greater mess. He stepped aside and let Gilbert enter the space.

“I was real glad was Dr. Oak reached out to me about you coming to stay,” Ronald explained with a yawn. “The last fellow who stayed here graduated last spring, and I’ve been having trouble paying for the whole apartment myself. It’s not much, but it’s plenty for two men to share.”

Gilbert pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to his new roommate. Inside was the first of four years’ worth of rent payments. Bash had promised to send Gilbert his share of the farm’s earnings in plenty of time each month for him to pay his debts.

“That reminds me, this is for you,” Gilbert said. Ronald only tossed the envelope on a nearby table and leaned against it, tired eyes examining his new roommate.

“You drink?” he asked. Gilbert couldn’t tell if the man was offering or judging.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head.

“You snore?”

Gilbert frowned. “...Not...that I know of?”

Ronald shrugged and headed up the stairs.

“We can talk in afternoon. I’m going back to sleep. Your room is up the stairs on the right. Mine’s on the left. There’s one more empty room, for guests I guess, if you ever have any.”

Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek. Would the people from home ever come all the way to Toronto just to see him? Adjusting his cases in his hands, Gilbert took a deep breath.

“Alright, thank you.” But Ronald had already gone.

Outside, the street echoed silence around, giving it an eerie stillness. If he hadn’t been so tired, he might’ve felt the weight of being so far away from home and his family. But exhaustion prevailed in numbing his thoughts, and he found his bed without any welcoming ceremony. Laying fully dressed on top of his blankets, Gilbert fell deep into sleep.

~~*~~

“You a novelist or something?”

Gilbert looked up from the kitchen table and found Ronald in the doorway. He must’ve looked like some sort of writer, with pages upon pages of inked words spread across the table in front of him. A mug of coffee steamed at both places and at the table, and Gilbert nodded down to it. Ronald accepted it appreciatively, sipping it with a satisfied smile. In the daylight, and perhaps after bathing, the man seemed to have a sophisticated air about him that came solely from his looks and not his attitude.

“No, I’m just writing some letters home. There are a few people who’d want to know I made it here in one piece,” Gilbert replied, somewhat nostalgic for home. His gaze found the opening line of the paper in front of him: My Anne...

“Where is home, anyway?”

“Avonlea, PEI.”

“That far away, eh? No wonder you wandered up to the house so early this morning. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of Avonlea, though.” Gilbert nodded politely, not sure how much Ronald Stuart wanted to share about himself or how much he wanted to share in return. “I’m Ron, by the way. I apologize that I’m not terribly friendly before seven in the morning.”

Gilbert chuckled and shook his head.

“I guess I didn’t realize the trip would be over sixteen hours. Sorry for waking you up.”

Ron got up from the table, grabbing some bread from the breadbox and shoving a piece into his mouth.

“What made you want to come here, anyway?”

“Ah, my teacher from home knows Dr. Oak. I was initially intending on attending the, uh...well, the Sorbonne in France, but I changed my mind.”

The expression on Ron’s face told Gilbert he was not convinced.

“Yeah right, you just weren’t accepted. That or you can’t speak french.”

“No, I was accepted - or as good as, anyway. I just chose not to go.” Gilbert paused. “But you’re right, I don’t speak french very well.”

Ron’s jaw dropped.

“I didn’t take you for an idiot, Gilbert.”

Gilbert straightened his shoulders, crossing his arms defensively.

“It’s a long story, one that I’m sure would make perfect sense if you were to hear it.” He paused. Would this Ronald Stuart be convinced that genuine love was more valuable than an educational opportunity? “But to tell the truth, I’d like to just write these letters and get them sent out before the post is collected in a few hours.” Ron held up his hands in surrender and trekked back up to his room.

Returned to silence, Gilbert tilted his face to the sun pouring in from the kitchen window. He wondered if Anne was enjoying the same warmth on her first day of school. Picking his pen back up, he continued to write.

My Anne,

I cannot think of a more wonderful way to start a letter. It does my heart such good knowing that wherever you are, you might be anticipating this specific correspondence. I’d like to begin this particular letter by informing you that I have made it to Toronto safe and sound - albeit at four in the morning! I haven’t been a train for such a long period of time since I traveled with my father. Should you still desire to be my penpal (though I hope you’ll want to be a much more than penpals) you’ll find my complete address on the envelope. North Sunset street is just as beautiful as it sounds.

Have I beat around the bush with enough formality? I may as well jump right in.

Anne, what a fool I’ve been. I’ve had sixteen hours to compose the perfect way to reveal to you in extensive detail all the ways I’ve been a fool, but I fear I don’t have your gift with language, so you will just have to tolerate my inadequate explanations. As Diana might have informed you, I never received your letter, and for the sake of clarity and fairness, I’m going to assume that you never received mine.

I want to eradicate every doubt in your mind. Anne, I never had any real, genuine feelings for Winifred. I have learned the hard way that there is a vast difference between enjoying someone’s company and genuine love. When you love someone, you don’t just enjoy their company. You ache until the next moment you see that person, yet they’re always with you - in your mind, in your heart. The extent to which I adore you and take pride in your existence is so overwhelming that I wonder why I thought I could ever settle for anything else. Is it bold for me to hope you feel the same way? I truly do love you, Anne.

With all that disclosed, I’m certain there are times when I made you feel like I didn’t care for you at all. For that, I hope you know how very ashamed and sorry I am. You won’t ever feel like that again, I promise. If, in our separation, you grow doubtful or lonely, I’ll be on the first train bound for Charlottetown.

As for follow up questions:

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, when in heaven’s name did you start to have feelings for me? Most days I was certain I’d never win your heart, but then I’d catch you looking across the classroom and think maybe it wasn’t so hopeless after all.

Did you receive the letter I left you in your room? You never said anything, so I wondered. Oh! And what did your letter say? I’m so bitter that it disappeared.

Are you well? How are you adjusting to being away from home? I know Green Gables was so precious to you. How is Queens? Do your new classmates adore you, yet? I’m certain they do.

I’m sure I will have more questions the more I fondly remember each encounter I’ve had with you, but for now, I won’t bombard you.

As for me, I’m better now that I’ve arrived to Toronto and have unpacked all my things. My roommate, Ron, is a peculiar brand, and it’s still unclear as to whether or not he is - as you’d say - a kindred spirit. So far, I have my doubts. We’ve known each other all of eight hours and he’s already called me an idiot. But we have our own bedrooms, and there’s more than enough space for the two of us, so I can’t complain. Class begins tomorrow, but I’ve some final paperwork to complete. I hope to explore the campus and learn all the hidden nooks where a medical student might read and daydream about his love back home.

I still have to write to Bash, and I want to send this as soon as possible, so I’ll conclude here. I miss you terribly already. Yet, how thankful I am that we got the time we did.

Know that I remain always

Yours,

Gilbert

(PS: My roommate called me Gil at our first meeting. I’ve not decided if I like it yet, but maybe if you call me by that name, I’ll warm up to it.)

(PSS: Is it too much trouble if I ask you to enclose a picture of yourself, or something that I can keep on my bedside table that will remind me of you?)

Gilbert had just folded the letter up and sealed it, when Ron came back into the room. In his hand was a picture frame that Gilbert recognized immediately.

“Who’s this?” Ron asked.

Gilbert snatched the frame, eyes icy.

“Were you going through my things?”

“I was just leaving some clean linens, and I saw it on your table. Not trying to pry, but I’m...curious.”

Gilbert peered down at the frame, and felt a wave of homesickness sweep over him. It was a photograph he’d had taken shortly before Hazel had come to live in the house. It had been difficult to find a photographer who wouldn’t fall prey to their prejudices.

“It’s my brother and my niece,” he explained. Ron seemed to sense the thin ice he stood on, so he nodded.

“She’s sweet,” he commented, nodding down at Delphine’s bright eyes.

“The sweetest,” Gilbert agreed, pushing away the photograph when he felt his throat close up. They were silent for a few moments when Ron fixed his eyes on Gilbert.

“Why didn’t you go to the Sorbonne?” he asked evenly. Gilbert matched the serious gaze, unashamed of his choices.

“I would’ve had to marry a girl I didn’t love, and leave behind the one I do.”

Ron’s face didn’t change, but the lack of judgement was slightly promising.

“Family and love, huh? Wish I could relate.” Then he spun on his heels and headed toward the front door. “Well, I’m off.”

“Oh, uh, bye?”

The tense, awkward air in the room evaporated when the door slammed behind Ron. A long exhale left Gilbert’s lips and he grabbed a clean sheet of paper. This letter to Bash continued much like his letter to Anne’s had, full of apprehension about Ronald Stuart and anxiousness about the impending start of school. He’d exhausted all of his mildly uninteresting topics before he added:

I do have some news that might interest you. Anne and I are...well, I don’t know for certain what we are. Courting? Yes likely. More than friends? Absolutely. Together? In every way a man can be together with his love across 1000 of distance. I ended things with Winifred and ran like a madman through Charlottetown to see if Anne would give me one last shot. She did. Thank god, she did.

My courtship with Winifred actually ended two weeks ago, as poorly as you can imagine. But I did right by her in every way I could, and respected her enough to be honest that I could not be with her if it’s Anne that I so greatly adore. Not that I said Anne by name, but Winifred knew. She made me promise not to tell anyone until she could safely leave Charlottetown, which is why you are just hearing about this now. Though I regret having humiliated her to the point of returning back to France, I feel so much...lighter, happier. Knowing that Anne cares for me the way I care for her leaves me feeling confident I made the right choice. I think Winifred will see that one day, too.

I miss you, Bash. Delly too. The more I’m here, the harder it is to imagine that I’ll be living without you. I can barely remember what it was like when it was just me - without my brother, without the laughter of the baby. There’s a room here for guests if you ever want to visit, but I’ll come home when I can. Something tells me if I stray from Avonlea too long, something vital in me will starve.

I love you all. I hope the harvest is going well.

Your brother,

Gilbert.

With both letters sealed and addressed, Gilbert stepped out onto the new streets, drinking in the Toronto sun as he made his way toward town.

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #shirbert fic #shirbert ff #tessa writes #catch this on ao3 too!#this chapter called for a lil bit of exposition because gilbert is in an ENTIRELY new place #but i love ron so far he's so annoying #you may recognize ronald stuart as the brother of one christine stuart #muhaha

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captainscanadian · 5 years ago

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Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Epilogue 2)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: You did good. No, you did better than good.

Word Count: 2505

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Portia Barnes, Grant Barnes, Sarah Rogers

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Death

A/N: This is it. This is the end of an era. This is the end of me writing Better. I cannot believe I actually managed to finish a fic. Most importantly, I cannot believe so many of you have taken your time to read this and to love this story and Better!Bucky as much as I do. From the bottom of my heart, I would like to thank you all. I am forever grateful for every single one of you. This one’s dedicated to @dramadreamer14 because after the torture that I put her through, she needs this domestic, fluffy, “growing old together” kind of wrap-up for this fic. Pic’s not mine, credit to the owners!

20 years later...

New Hope, Pennsylvania was a quiet little town. No one ever knew that it had even existed. Even Bucky had only come to know of this small town until he had met you. Over the years, you had not questioned why your husband had been sending money orders to your hometown every single month. You knew the answer to that. But you also knew that a few years into your marriage, the payments had stopped. Bucky had not mentioned it to you, but you knew that they had stopped. You did not live under the biggest rock on earth for crying out loud.

When you had asked Bucky about it though, he did not try to hide it from you. He did not lie to your face in the name of wanting to protect you, even if he knew how much pain was behind the answer to your query. Your biological parents had tragically passed away after your childhood home had caught fire and burnt down. A kitchen fire, apparently. It had spread so quickly by the time one of the neighbors had found out and managed to call the fire department, that your parents could not be saved.

Bucky had believed that you had every right to grieve your parents, to feel completely free from them now that they were really gone for good. A fire accident in your childhood home, he had told you. Neither of them survived. As it turned out, your mother had left a will before her death, stating that whatever the remaining amount of money she had left in her bank account should go to the science teacher at your school. After all, she had signed a contract saying that she would cut all ties with you. Of course, she was not going to leave you that money. But it seemed as though, after all these years of never being able to be on the same page, your mother did understand you at some point. She knew that you owed your old teacher so much for that one night of shelter and your mother also owed her that much for ensuring that her only child had not frozen to death. And that was the end of that.

Portia Natalia Barnes never got to know her maternal grandparents, but she knew from a very young age that her mother had not been as lucky as she had been when it came to being the recipient of unconditional parental love. You and Bucky had made sure to let both of your children know that they were loved from the day they were born. You never took them or the responsibility that you had taken on as being their parents for granted. You were honest with them, allowing them to understand that their parents were not perfect. But they were human beings with their own flaws, who thrived to be better. You had given them the space and the openness to be honest with you too. If they ever felt like your parenting was unfair to them, they would tell you. You communicated with them to make sure that they understood the boundaries that you had set for them as their parents and they felt understood as well. You were much better parents that the ones you had.

As the years rolled on, Portia had left your nest to go off to Harvard. Having inherited her father photographic memory, she had been quite a smart kid. When it came to her going to college, she had managed to grab an acceptance to multiple Ivy League schools. Her father had taken it personally that she had chosen Harvard over Columbia, his own alma mater. But truth be told, Bucky was simply not willing to see his little girl go off to live on her own. He had been a very protective father.

While your daughter was attending university in Boston, your son was freaking out over the football tryouts at his high school. While neither you nor your husband was athletically talented, it seemed as though Grant had taken a particular liking to playing sport. Now a senior in high school, he was well under way of getting a football scholarship. Both of your children were doing well for themselves and you could not be any prouder.

And as for you and your James, the two of you had resigned from the hospital when your children were starting school. The two of you had agreed that the unpredictable work schedule that came with working at the hospital was not ideal when you wanted to be raising two children. Bucky had admitted that he wanted to be more present in their lives. As much as he had been raised by a nanny, he was against the idea of you hiring one.

But the time had been right, for Bucky’s friend T’Challa, who had taken over your in-laws’ private practice from them had sold it back to the two of you before moving back to Africa. You and James began working together as partners, dictating your own work hours to accommodate your school runs and running your own clinic at the shelter. The two of you had really built yourselves a life together, just for the two of you.

Of course, this did not mean that you did not get to see your friends at all. Every weekend and the holidays were spent in each other’s company, no matter how far away from each other your lives had taken you all. Even if you all had your own families now, you still made time for each other. In the end, you were all each other’s families and that was never going to change all that easily.

“Mooooom!” Your son whined as he made his way down the stairs, his feet stomping across the hardwood floor with every step he took until he reached the kitchen. For a seventeen year old, he was quite broad and tall. He sure had the built for a football player, towering over your height too. According to your mother-in-law, he certainly took on after his father. But you would not say that he only took on Bucky’s appearance; he had his father’s heart too. “Mom, Portia says she needs the car tomorrow but I’ve got practice. Can you please remind her that she doesn’t live here anymore and the car’s mine now?”

You let out a sigh as you finished chopping up the vegetables, discarding the scraps in the compost bin before walking over to the stove to check on the pasta.

“I told you. I’ll even drop you off and pick you up, you punk.” Your daughter’s voice echoed through the hallway as she followed after her brother. “Mom, I’m just meeting up with my friend for coffee. We have our project due after spring break and we were going to be working on it together.”

“It’s spring break. Why aren’t you taking a road trip to Canada and getting pissed drunk or something like a proper college kid?”

“It’s spring break. Why do you have practice, huh?” She asked her brother.

You turned off the stove before turning around to face your children, letting out a sigh of disbelief. “Have you two seriously forgotten what day it is?” You asked them as you crossed your arms against your chest.

They both looked at each other for a moment before their eyes grew wide in realization of what day it was.

“Oh shit-” Portia quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry, mom! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to forget, I... I’ll text my friend right now and cancel our study session. I promise, I’m not leaving the house for the whole day.”

“Sorry, mom...” Grant frowned as he pulled out his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the coach and telling him that I can’t make it. Family comes first.”

“As much as I’m a little disappointed that the two of you forgot your father’s birthday, I’m glad that you two are at least fighting about study sessions and football practice.” You admitted, chuckling softly. “Help me finish up with dinner and set the table? Dad will be home soon and it’s been a while since we’ve had a family meal with all four of us.”

“Of course.” Your daughter smiled as she walked around the kitchen counter to wash her hands. “I’ll roast the vegetables.”

“I’ll drain the pasta.”

“And I’ll finish up the sauce!” You announced and the three of you worked together to finish cooking before your husband got home.

Dr. James Barnes was a lucky man. At sixty years of age, he was happily married to his wife of twenty-two years. With a successful private practice and a part-time position teaching anatomy at Columbia Medical School, he had learned to keep himself busy with work while still managing to have a family of his own. He had two wonderful children who loved him dearly and were well onto becoming responsible adults. He was not worried about their future; they were good kids.

His goddaughter on the other hand though, he was worried about her for sure. “Sarah, I’m telling you. Being my little niece does not mean that you’re going to get special treatment in my class.” With an eye roll, Bucky made his way upstairs right after he entered his home.

“But that doesn’t give you any reason to be twice as hard on me, Dr. Barnes.” She told him sternly as she watched him ascend up the stairs. She walked into the dining room, her expression a little softer as she greeted you. “Hey, Aunty Y/N.”

“Hey, sweetheart... will you be joining us for dinner this evening?” You asked your beloved niece as you finished setting the table. Just as you had been a regular visitor of the Rogers-Carter household when you had first started working with Steve and Peggy, Sarah was a frequent dinner guest as your house as well.

“Do I have a choice? I have an anatomy quiz after the break that I’m supposed to study for and my professor’s a jerk. Uncle Bucky... offered to help me study tonight.” Sarah Rogers, in the way she carried herself and spoke her mind, was her mother’s daughter. But when it came to her constant banter with Bucky, she was all Steve. “I’m telling you. If I end up dropping out of med school, it was your husband’s fault.”

“This... is exactly why I went off to Harvard.” Portia pointed out as she walked over to Sarah and pulled her into a hug. “Cheer up, Rogers.”

“Wait, I thought Uncle Bucky is your professor...”

The girls turned around to give Grant a look of disbelief.

You gave him a pat on the back. “Let’s finish setting the table, baby.”

Your husband made his way downstairs after freshening up, having changed into a pair of sweatpants and a Henley. Even after years, he still liked to separate his personal and professional lives with how he dressed. When the two of you were home, you rarely spoke of work. Your children had always been your priorities.

James’ hair had a hint of grey now. But that only made him look much more attractive to you. The years had been kind to the two of you, despite a few wrinkles here and there. Your physical appearance did not matter much to you though, for your hearts were still the same? You loved each other just as much as you did that night in your hospital room and that was never going to change.

After a long-awaited family meal, the children got busy with doing the dishes while you found yourself heading up to your room for a quick shower. By the time you had changed into a pair of pyjamas and made your way downstairs, you found Sarah and Portia huddled on the living room floor with their textbooks laying wide open around them. Grant had followed their example and grabbed himself a book to read while he laid on the couch – The Merchant of Venice, which was apparently now being taught in his high school English class. He really was his father’s son.

Bucky sat in his study, reading through his emails. As you knocked on the door and poked your head through, he looked up at you with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors at this time, doll. But I’ll take it.”

You walked into the room, making sure to close the door around you. “So, this is where you spend all of your free time after... a hard day’s work and a good family meal.” You told him with a wink.

He chuckled softly as he stood up from his seat. “Well, I do think that there’s a lot more value to my time if it’s spent in the presence of my wife.” There was a teasing tone in his voice and you knew that he had caught on.

“Hm... flattery will get you everywhere, Dr. Barnes.” You giggled as you walked up to him, leaving up to quickly peck his lips. You were cautious, for you did not want the children to see you like this. “A wise man once told me that I was capable of being so much better than what life had to offer me. Happy birthday to him, I guess.”

“I think there’s still a few hours until midnight.” He said, his eyes darting to the wall clock behind you.

You reached into the pockets of your robe and pulled out an envelope. “I just thought I might give you your present a little earlier...”

“What’s this?” Bucky asked you as he took the envelope, his eyebrow raised at you as he stepped back to retrieve the letter opener from his desk. He carefully tore through the envelope before retrieving the tickets to your romantic vacation destination.

You watched as he looked down at the tickets. “A wise man also told me that if I really wanted to live like I’m in the Merchant of Venice, all I had to do was hop on a plane.”

He turned around to give you a cheeky grin. “A romantic getaway to Venice? Really, doll?”

“I think we both need one, don’t you think? Now that Portia’s out of the house and Grant will be moving out soon.” You shrugged. “We can just travel the world like free birds, just you and me.”

“I think I’d like that.” He agreed as he walked back to you and kissed you softly.

You giggled as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you took in his scent. “We did good, James...” You admitted, laying your head against his shoulder and shutting you eyes for a moment. You wanted to savor this, for every single intimate the two of you shared was precious. You still saw it as a blessing, having a wonderful husband like him and beautiful children.

“No, I think we did better, Y/N.”

#aj writes #better #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #doctor!bucky #doctor au #marvel au #better!bucky

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buckyreaderrecs · 5 years ago

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So Far Away: Chapter 4/?

Summary: Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

Chapter 4: Sometimes the road to recovery is x-rays and pain killers. Sometimes, it's freeeeeesh ava ca doo.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Note: Hi! I am overwhelmingly grateful to everyone who has read this story, and heard my call for inspiration. Because of you, this chapter exists, and I have a better idea of where to take this story. Thank you all so, so much. Honestly. I hope you love this.

So Far Away Chapter 4/?

Waking up in such a soft and safe environment took a hot minute. The danger was so far away from you and comfort was so close. Slowly though, your eyes opened and you tried to sit up. Sloooow mooootion. But then, pain.

You'd apparently slept off the memory of your injured hand, leaning straight onto it. It hurt so badly that you felt dizzy, then quickly sick to your stomach.

Within seconds of hearing you cry out, Bucky was at your side. "Alright, come on, darl'. Knew we should've gone straight to the doc when we got 'ere," he said, the latter statement directed at himself.

Trying to shuffle to the edge of the huge bed was exhausting. Tears began to stream down your face, running over the flushing red skin. You were embarrassed, somehow feeling it through the intense pain.

"Can you stand?"

You could, albeit shaky and holding your arm close to your chest, terrified something would hit it.

Bucky pressed a hand to your lower back and ushered you gently from the suite.

In the elevator, he called to F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Tell me someone's up in med?"

"Dr Cho is in D.C. but has left Medical to Dr Reyes,"

"Okay. Tell her we're on our way," he asked.

"Already done,"

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

Bucky turned to you, watched you struggle to keep your eyes open. He frowned, then cupped your face in his hands. The vibranium was cool.

"You're gonna be okay, Y/N. I know it hurts, but trust me - I've seen worse."

He wasn't being dismissive, just trying to pull you from the pain for a second or two. It worked; you offered him a weak smile. Bucky leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. You could smell toothpaste. He must have been in the middle of getting ready for the day when you woke up.

'Medical' was a whole floor. Research happened in the east wing, and the trauma centre existed in the west.

Dr Cecilia Reyes was ready, waiting for your arrival. "Barnes," she greeted. "You found her then,"

"Word travels fast, huh?"

"Oh, you know… Winter Soldier on a mission to find a girl. That kinda thing gets people talking," she replied with a smirk.

Bucky liked Cecilia. She was tough, raised in the Bronx. He liked that despite her power, she opted for a relatively normal life. She was good people.

"Well, welcome," she said to you, leading you to a private room. "I'm Dr Reyes. Heard you've banged up your hand pretty bad?"

"Yeah," you managed to squeak out.

"Scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

Ten. Definitely. "Uh… Eight," you lied.

Cecilia snorted. "So at least a nine then? Don't need to be tough for me," she told you, smiling kindly. She nodded for Bucky to help you up onto the bed in the room.

"I was okay last night," you said to her.

"Probably still in a bit of shock. Had a rough couple of days. Body's smart. Guess it waited to tell you it needed help," she replied.

"Should've brought you here last night," Bucky said.

"Nah, Barnes. Sleep is the great healer. She's here now. Let's see what we've got."

An x-ray, backlit and brutal, showed a broken ring finger, broken thumb, and three breaks to your hand. Cecilia told you that all things considered, you were lucky; the breaks hadn't split skin, muscle, or tendon. She set a cast on your wrist, hand, and thumb, and stabilised your ring finger by splinting it to your pinky.

"If you want, we can just cut it off and you can get one of what he's got," she joked during the process.

"Hey! Too soon," Bucky said, feigning offence.

She rolled her eyes at him dramatically. "What, like 80 years or something?"

Bucky laughed, then smiled over at you. "It's all right, darlin'," he said, noticing your expression. "If I can't joke about it, what's it good for, you know?"

"In her case, it's good for some top tier pain meds. Here - take two as needed. No more than eight a day. With food is better. And for reference, a can of Pringles does not count as a meal,"

"That felt personal," Bucky said, eyes narrowing at Cecilia.

"Your diet is trash," she told him, matter of fact.

"Firstly, once you pop you can't stop. Even I know that. Secondly, how do you know about my diet, doll?"

"Doll me again, Barnes, and I'll-"

"What?" he interrupted. "Force field me to death?"

"Joke all ya want, but it can be done."

Bucky laughed again, fondly shaking his head at her. Cecilia held back a full grin.

"Force field?" you asked, sitting quietly, letting the fentanyl you'd been given before the x-ray seep into your body.

"I'll tell ya later," Bucky said, reaching out to fold stray hair behind your ear.

"Alright, need anything else? You're not-" Cecilia started.

"Nah, nah, I'm good. Thanks, Doc. We''ll get out cha' way."

They hugged like they meant it, and she left the room.

Bucky turned to you. "I'd decorate that thing for ya, but Steve's the artist," he said, nodding at your cast.

"S'okay," you whispered in reply.

"Fentanyl working then?"

Eyes closed, grinning, you nodded slowly. Bucky snorted.

"Good. Guess we'll get some food in you then,"

"Pringles?" you asked hopefully as Bucky held your hips, helping you slide off the bed.

"Whatever you want, darlin'."

People pretended not to watch you and Bucky leave the trauma centre. It's kinda what people did in Stark Tower - pretend not to see and know what they saw and knew.

"He's got a girlfriend" someone whispered.

"No, didn’t he, like, go full hero and save her or something?"

"Think we got more to worry about than who and what Bucky Barnes is doing," Cecilia said loudly to the room. She smiled though. Good for him, she thought to herself.

…

Before you really knew what was happening, Bucky was handing you an iPad.

"Sit. Ubereats us something," he said.

You were on the couch, back in Bucky's suite. Looking around, you felt that awe again - floor to ceiling windows with New York views will do that. There was a light, knitted blanket over you. It seemed out of place in the modern apartment setting.

For a good fifteen minutes since returning from the medical suite, you'd just been sitting there. Bucky had waited until you seemed more… coherent, to ask you to pick food.

"You know Ubereats?" you asked, smiling, proud of yourself.

Bucky snorted. "I know I'm old, but I'm not playing-bingo-with-senior-citizens old."

You laughed and for a second, forgot about everything.

"That being said," he added, "I did live through The Depression, and I do have a super soldier metabolism… So, you know, don't skimp on the food."

You wondered what his dinner of choice normally would be. Order history! It looked like Bucky was working his way through every takeout option in N.Y. Nothing repeated.

"Burrrrrrito?" you asked.

"Yeah, darl'. Whatever you want,"

"I waaaaant… freeeesh ava ca doo,"

"That the drugs talking?"

Mental note to self: show Bucky Barnes memes.

After the order was placed, you put the iPad on the coffee table in front of you. Bucky picked it up, shot you a grin, and disappeared for a while. You did consider following him - he felt like safety. But, you were slowly coming out of the fog of fentanyl and knew tagging along like a lost puppy probably would make you feel awkward more than anything.

Bucky's voice floated through… superhero stuff, you assumed. Busying yourself with finding the remote, then being startled by F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s offer of help ("Can I help you find something to watch?"), you managed to fill the time until Bucky returned without having to really think too much. There was a feeling sitting in the back of your mind and the bottom of your stomach that you wanted to keep ignoring for as long as possible. It seemed… bad. And you weren't ready for bad.

"Alright," Bucky said, coming to stand in front of you. "How we doing?"

You smiled, nodded. His expression shifted. Sceptical.

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Ah-huh," you confirmed.

"I'm just gonna run down and grab the food. Won't be a second."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with only the television to keep you company. You tried to pay attention, focus on the show. But the volume was too loud, even on the lowest setting. It was agitating, stressful even. Switching it off, you were enveloped in silence.

Calm down, you told yourself. And yet, a heartbeat was pounding in your ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You could hear your own organs now?!

Suddenly, you found yourself at the window, looking down at the city. How can everyone… You were thinking too fast, spiralling. But how could you think of anything else? How could everyone down there just keep going? D.C. was still burning. People had died.

People.

Your people.

Everything - your head, the room, your world - began to spin.

Where's… Where's… Where the hell was a phone?

"Y/N," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice alarmed you, coming out of nowhere, but not enough to make you jump. "I'm detecting an elevated heart rate. Can I help you with anything?"

"I… ah… You're just a machine," you muttered to yourself mostly. "Wait! No! Where's the phone?! I need a phone… I need to call…"

Call who? Who would you call first? What would you do if…

You didn't hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell you where to find a phone, or ask again if you were okay. You didn't hear her tell you Bucky was on his way up. As soon as he walked in, he knew what was happening.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell me next time," he said while putting the takeout on the suite's small round dining table. "Y/N," he called. He stood in your field of vision, but not too close. "Y/N? Can you hear me?"

"I'm… I need a phone," you said, voice frantic, pupils blown. "There's people…"

"We can do that. Phone's right here," Bucky told you, pulling his cell from his pocket and holding it out to you. When you didn't take it, he slid it back in and held a hand out to you instead. "Y/N, take my hand. We're gonna sit down. Don't want you to fall and break any more bones,"

"How many days has it been?" you asked, your words pushed together, the letters overlapping.

"I'm gonna come closer, okay? Coming to you." Bucky moved. When he could see it wasn't making it worse, he held on your good wrist, his other hand on your waist, and walked you to the couch. You followed along, mindlessly compliant. "It's been five days. Not everyone will be on the lists yet, but we'll call, yeah? Or, we can get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do it for us."

You were sort of nodding, but were still finding it hard to focus. Bucky waited another few moments, watching and assessing, before deciding he needed to intervene further.

He put his left hand on your face, cupping the cool metal to your skin. Gently but firmly, he turned you to face him.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked, raising his right hand.

"What?"

He repeated the question.

"Three," you answered, dismissive and maybe even a little annoyed.

"Good. Now?"

"Five. What are you doing?"

"Now?"

"Two! What are you doing?!"

"Distracting you," Bucky said. "Making your mind work on a task that isn't just panicking,"

"I'm not panicking," you told him.

"Not now, 'cause it worked. You're still not breathing properly though,"

"I'm fine,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Bucky called.

She spoke, "Your heart rate is still elevated, Y/N, and-"

"Okay, I get it," you stopped her.

"Just take a couple breaths with me. Don't need 'em to be deep. Just hold them for a couple seconds."

As he called it, you took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three. You managed to do it twice before shaking your head and wriggling in your spot.

"I'm not- I just-" and you were off again, rambling about people, phones, and things you needed to do.

You went to stand, but Bucky grabbed you around the middle, pulling you down. Your back was to him, pressed to his chest, while his arms were wrapped around you. He would have let go if you fought him or cried out. But, you were limp and quiet almost immediately.

As you clung to his arms, he rested his head on your shoulder and made soft hushing sounds. Bucky waited patiently until your breathing regulated. You had closed your eyes and let your entire weight rest on him.

"I know how you feel. You're exhausted. Makes everything feel… bigger. But I promise you, it's gonna be okay," he told you, voice calm. Calming.

"You can't promise that," you replied, voice weak.

"I reckon if anyone can - it's me. Had a lot of life experience. And, got a lot of resources. Superhero perks," he laughed, trying to lighten your mood. "You trust me?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Good. So, trust me. I've got you. And right now, we've got some burritos that need eatin', and you need to tell me what freesh ava ca doo is."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth was entirely ridiculous and you couldn't help but snort. It left a smile on your face.

"There she is! Come on. Up!”

Chapter 5.

Tag list (open): @animegirlgeeky @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the–sad–hatter @grecianlune @fairislesheets

#mine #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes / Reader #bucky barnes/you #Bucky Barnes / You #Bucky Barnes / Y/N #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Marvel fanfiction #So Far Away

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inkribbon796 · 4 years ago

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Egotober Day 27: A Father’s Blessing

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Prompt: Ghost

Summary: For Dr. Iplier’s birthday. Dark and Iplier have that long overdue chat, and the Host is expectedly not very happy.

A/N: I cheated with this one, in that the Host is almost like a ghost in terms of the Author, in that he is what remains.

Warnings: none

Dr. Iplier was busy trying to patch the Jim’s up. They had been tailing a news story. It wasn’t the first time Iplier, Henrik, or some other unfortunate doctor had done their darkest to patch one of the Jims up. In typical Jim fashion they were almost impossible to keep still, you couldn’t separate a Jim pair or trio up lest things get worse if one Jim was left bored and unsupervised, and the Jim or Jims being treated always claimed this was their first visit to the hospital.

Iplier was pretty sure the latter was impossible, that he had to have treated this particular Jim before, but he’d given up trying to reason with a living force of nature.

“Alright,” Iplier stepped back from the Jim he was treating, who had broken his leg in some accident. The doctor offered up some crunches. “Now I know it’s hard for you but try not to do anything too drastic. You need six to eight weeks to heal.”

“Oh I can just get Jim to cover my shift,” R.J, one of the only Jims that Iplier seemed to be able to identify, smiled and was kicking back and forth his good leg.

C.J, a camera Jim, smiled, “Ooh, he is a good Jim for the task.”

“Just make sure you stay off the leg,” Iplier told him with a promise that he knew probably wouldn’t be honored and he’d have to fix whatever new injury had cropped up.

And after dealing with the Jim’s, Iplier noticed he was done for a day. It was an early day for him. He was excited to spend the rest of his evening with the Host and his friends.

But as he walked out to head to his car, he saw the Host sitting right outside the entrance, and when the door opened Iplier noticed that he looked a bit worried.

“You okay, did something happen?” Iplier asked, glancing around but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“No, the Host and the others are unharmed,” the Host answered, but he stopped looking in the doctor’s direction, he seemed nervous.

“Host, whatever happened, it’s okay,” Iplier walked over to kneel next to him.

“The Entity wishes to meet with the Host’s doctor, and he has been incredibly insistent about the matter,” the Host told him. “The Host’s first instinct is to deny the Entity. The Host and Iplier’s relationship is none of the Entity’s concern.”

“So you don’t want to go?” Iplier asked in concern.

“The Host,” Host made a disgruntled, frustrated noise. “The Host does not want the Entity to . . . disapprove. The Host’s doctor is perfect but the Entity has high standards.”

“Oh,” Iplier commented, instantly regretting not saying more immediately. “Well if you don’t want to go then we don’t have it.”

“The Entity will only keep insisting, the only reason that the Entity has not approached Eric is because of Illinois luck,” the Host reported. “The Host does not have that power.”

“Can I hold your hands?” Iplier asked.

“Dr. Iplier can always hold the Host’s hands,” the Host smiled.

“I know, but I don’t want to startle you by grabbing you,” Iplier promised, gently taking his hands. “If you don’t want to go, we’ll go back to the base and stay there.”

The Host paused to think about it, clutching Iplier’s hands. “The Host wants to get this over with.”

“I love you,” Dr. Iplier told him. “And just because your old man happens to be an asshole of a mob boss, won’t make me stop loving you.”

Smiling, the Host leaned in a bit closer, “The Host loves Dr. Iplier as well. He only wishes that he could tell his doctor that directly.”

“You tell me in lots of ways,” Iplier reminded. “It’s okay, do you still want to go?”

“The outing won’t be entirely unpleasant,” the Host evaded.

“But do you want to go?” Iplier insisted.

“No, but this discussion needs to happen,” the Host decided and stood up as a tinted black car drove up. Host didn’t let go of Iplier’s hand. The driver’s side window rolled down. The man looked a bit nervous.

It was at that moment that Iplier focused his attention away from Host’s face and onto what the Host was wearing. Instead of some random shirt he had found, he was in a nicer dress shirt and a pair of dress slacks.

“Author?” The driver asked, clearly almost as uncomfortable as he was fearful.

“The Host,” the Host corrected.

“Right, right,” the driver corrected nervously. “The boss told me to pick you up.”

The Host used his voice and his sight to open the door. “Dr. Iplier should get in first.”

Iplier got in and the Host followed him in. The car drove off and the Host pulled a divider up to isolate the two of them. The drive wasn’t too long but the drive brought him to Dark’s favorite restaurant. The Host walked them in and Iplier noticed that most of the restaurant staff gave Host a wide berth. As if they were afraid of being hit or attacked by him. The Host just led Dr. Iplier past the hostess without even pausing to talk to her or letting Iplier slow down.

Upstairs there was a table that was lower to the floor and there were just cushions on the floor. Dark was sitting there, and he looked over at them. He didn’t say anything, and Iplier knew he was hard to ready but he did not look happy.

Host led Iplier over to sit down on the other side of the table, the Host sat on Iplier’s right, in-between the two men. There were already menus in front of them.

“Doctor,” Dark greeted through clenched teeth. Then he turned to the Host and in a much less confrontational tone asked, “What do you want? Going to try to order a burger here, or do you have more sense than Arthur?”

“That’s nonsense,” the Host scoffed. “This restaurant doesn’t sell burgers. The Host will have the ginseng chicken soup, and a Diet Coke.”

“Really?” Dark sounded surprised. “You really do have a different pallet. Good, Arthur always worried me about his diet.”

“I can’t read a word of this,” Iplier warned, the menu was purely in Korean.

“Dr. Iplier actually would like the bulgogi, and an iced tea,” the Host answered for Iplier.

“Ohhh, there are drink labels on here,” Iplier realized.

Dark collected their menus, and slipped a note in Korean through a small portal. Then, as if Iplier wasn’t even there, Dark asked, “Why their doctor?”

“Why is the Entity sleeping with a madman?” Host asked in return.

“He’s a bit old for you,” Dark reminded.

“Hmm,” the Host’s face bunched up a little, “and how much older is the Entity than the Madman?”

“Hhnn,” Dark hummed, leaning his chin on his palm and resting it on the table. “Touché. You have me there.”

“I’m right here,” Iplier told them, a little frustrated.

“Hush, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Dark dismissed.

“It’s not like the Host is trailing dangerous men and needs to be watched like Yan,” Host defended. “Maybe the Entity should stop his daughter before she dates someone who should actually hurt her.”

One of the waiters came in with their drinks, his eyes bouncing between the three of them and Dark silently dismissed her to the young lady’s obvious relief.

After a little bit of a standoff where Iplier and his relationship with the Host were the only topics, Dark finally turned to Iplier. His finger tracing along the rim of his tea cup.

“You realize that none of this is exceptionally personal towards you,” Dark told him. “You only keep people alive who range from a mild inconvenience to exceptionally insulting. But should you ever harm the Host I will skin you alive, inch by inch, and feed your soul to hellhounds.”

Iplier’s eyes widened, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good,” Dark took a sip of his tea. “The Host has more than suffered enough, and I will not stand by and allow anyone to harm him.”

“Something we can both agree to,” Iplier promised.

“I expect Host’s medical records, immediately,” Dark told him as their food came in.

“He’s not a minor, so no,” Iplier told him, and the waiter looked terrified at the exchange.

Dark hummed, “I hate being told no, but I like you protecting Host so I’ll allow it.”

Iplier had to admit he did like the food, he wound up eating some of Host’s soup and Host snuck off some of Iplier’s beef. The rest of the evening was free of threats for the most part. Dark was less hostile than he was initially.

Host led him out, a stride or two ahead of Iplier and was talking to the driver that had initially brought them to the restaurant.

Iplier didn’t catch the conversation but when Iplier reached them the Host turned to him. “The driver will return the Host’s doctor, the Host will stay with the Entity for a while and will join the doctor in a half-hour.”

“Alright,” Iplier glanced around. “Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course the Host will,” the Host promised.

With a goodbye kiss, Iplier finally got into the car and it slowly drove off with the doctor as the only passenger.

The drive was quiet for a bit and Iplier felt so awkward that he was actually checking his phone because there was literally nothing to do. The driver kept occasionally glancing at him nervously.

“You look like you’ve swallowed a frog,” Iplier met his eyes in the rear view mirror briefly before the driver looked away.

“Can I ask a question?” the driver asked, sounded a bit uneasy.

“Sure,” Iplier allowed.

“So how did you meet him? You work with the heroes too?” The driver asked.

“Yes, I’m not at liberty to talk about my patients, but I met the Host on an operating table,” Iplier admitted. “We’ve been close ever since.”

“Huh,” the driver responded, but didn’t offer a secondary comment.

“Host told me word was getting out about our relationship,” Iplier tried to change the topic just a bit. “I wasn’t aware he could still part a crowd.”

“Well, and you don’t have to answer it, but word gets out,” the guy began, “and you’re dating the Auth— I mean the Host, and he’s terrifying. So everyone just assumes you are too.”

That gave Iplier pause. He’d never thought that the reason he hadn’t been attacked by someone from the criminal underworld was because they were scared of him.

“Oh,” Iplier commented, unsure if he should admit that he wasn’t dangerous or not. Eventually he decided to say, “Well I don’t have any reason to hurt you.”

The driver seemed to relax, “Thank you, Sir.”

The car stopped in front of the heroes’ base. “My car was still at the hospital.”

“I was instructed to take you back to the base,” the driver sounded nervous.

“Well then one of those two can portal my car back here, because I need to go to work tomorrow,” Iplier shrugged and the driver sounded like he was choking on his own tongue.

“You okay?” Dr. Iplier’s hand froze on the door handle, he turned to look at him.

“Were you referring to the Demon Dark or the Host?” The driver asked hesitantly.

“Probably Dark since he doesn’t bleed from the eyes when he uses the Void,” Iplier answered.

His driver chuckles a bit, “You’ve got balls of steel, Sir.”

Unsure how to answer that he shrugged. To be fair with everything he’d seen by this point, he either did have balls of steel, or outrageous professional apathy. So the comment was warranted. “Guess I do.”

Then he thanked the man and got out, walking into the base. His car was already there and he could enjoy the rest of the evening with the Host and his friends.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Egotober2020 #Markiplier #Dr. Iplier #the Host #Darkiplier #Dr. Iplierst

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reds-self-ships · 4 years ago

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🔍 The Adventure of the Detection Club

Chapter 12: Opening Arguments

Table of Contents & Trigger Warnings

⚠ Chapter Specific Warnings: Contains allusions to spoilers for The Great Ace Attorney 2, as well as passing references made to blood and gore.

The next morning Central Criminal Court, Old Bailey Defendant Lobby

Ryunosuke Naruhodo quickly sorted his way through a stack of papers that made up the official court record for the case, shuffling his way through at such a speed that he looked as though he was certainly doing his best not to drop any.

Redford took a long drink from the flash of cocoa that Iris had specially prepared for him, whilst Susato kept a watch over Ryunosuke.

The door swung open with a loud crash as Sholmes barged his way into the room. “Morning, folks!” he roared.

Ryunosuke gave a yelp as he promptly dropped the pages of the court record across the floor. “Sh-Sholmes! Look at what you made me do!”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry about that Mr. Naruhodo—”

“Just help me pick these up!”

Ryunosuke fell to his knees, along with Sholmes, frantically picking them up and trying to re-organise them, all whilst Ryunosuke swore several oaths under his breath in Japanese.

“Apologies if I sound rude or anything, Susato, but is Ryunosuke always so…‘jumpy’ before a trial like this…?” Redford asked quietly.

“No…well…at least not that I’ve ever seen before…” said Susato, carefully playing with a loop of her hair.

“Me neither,” said Iris. “Normally when he’s a little anxious, his eyes dart around the room like no tomorrow. But this is definitely a new one…”

“Well it explains the way he was acting during breakfast this morning. With the way his eyes were rolling about in his skull, I thought they were going to roll out of his head or something. If I were trying to maintain eye contact with him, I think I’d’ve ended up giving up.”

The bailiff suddenly appeared from the entrance and called: “Now hearing the case of Regina V. Ninate, will all parties please report to courtroom no. 3 immediately!”

Just in time, Ryunosuke managed to get the papers together and get the court record back into its cardboard folder again.

“That’s our cue, Mr. Naruhodo,” said Susato.

“Well, I’ll be cheering you on from the dock. Good luck, you two!” said Redford with a bow.

Sholmes flicked the front rim of his hat. “And likewise, we’ll be cheering you on from the gallery!”

Iris flicked the front of her own forehead. “Good luck, everybody!”

——————————

The judge hit his gavel several times to bring the chattering of the gallery to a close, before clearing his throat and pushing his pince-nez glasses up his nose.

“Court is now in session for the trial of Redford Ninate!” he announced.

“The defence is ready, milord!” exclaimed Ryunosuke with a start.

“The prosecution is more than prepared, milord,” said Abidon, looking over the top of his half-moon glasses.

“And you,” continued the judge, “our six members of the jury, randomly chosen from citizens across the city of London, are you ready?”

The first juror, a young woman with her short and curly brown hair tied up with a red and white spotted handkerchief, rolled up a sleeve and flexed her bicep. “Ready and riveting to go!”

The second juror, a rather frail-looking old man dressed in a black suit and tall top-hat, stroked his sharp triangular chin with a bony hand. “I’m ready to commit the facts of this case to loving memory…kept in the grace of God’s right hand.”

The third juror, a familiar-looking Japanese man in a brown kimono with messy black hair and moustache, with several cats climbing over him, struck various poses. “I! AM! READY! BANZAI!”

The fourth juror, a tall man with black finely-combed hair in a widow’s peak and an aquiline nose, removed a pipe from the pocket of his dressing gown and began to smoke it. “I am ready to perceive the truth behind this case.”

The fifth juror, a man in a black tuxedo, top-hat with a purple band and a matching-coloured waistcoat stroked his moustache after he fiddled with his monocle. “I, the great Horace Velmont, will give everything that I can to this case!”

Finally, the sixth juror, a young girl with a black and white striped sweater, a mask covering the top part of her face and a black knitted cap on her head, said: “Yeah! I’m ready to go, guv’na!”

The judge nodded his head. “Excellent. Prosecutor Abidon, isn’t it?”

“Yes, milord?”

“You may begin with your opening statement.”

Ryunosuke looked around the courtroom nervously.

(It’s been a while since I’ve last been here. I just hope I’m able to get Redford off of these charges…for his sake…)

He looked over to Redford, sat in the defendant’s chair in the dock. And as he did so, Redford winked.

(Oh my heart…!)

“Mr. Naruhodo? Are you sure that you’re OK?” whispered Susato. “You’re looking at Red in the face.”

“Eh—sorry?”

“I said: ‘Are you OK? You’re looking a little red in the face’.”

“Is everything alright, defence?” asked the judge.

“Defence, you are aware that talking over the prosecution whilst it is attempting to make its opening argument is rude, arrogant and something that could lead to you being removed from this courtroom for contempt of court?” said Abidon with a glare. “I’m not sure how you Japanese like to do things, but it is the way we British people do things in this sacred court of law, and it is to be respected and heeded.”

“Sorry!” exclaimed Ryunosuke with a start. “Carry on. As you were…”

(Oh great! A smaller, jumped up, discounted-version of Lord van Zieks…that’s just what we really need right about now…)

“As I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted…” said Abidon as he unfurled a scroll and held it in front of him. “The victim in this case was a Mr. Harris Thomas, a member of the same organisation as the defendant—known as ‘The Detection Club’, an organisation for crime writers to meet and work on their crime novels I believe.

“The victim had been expelled from the club for missed payment of membership fees, and a new member, Dexter Collins, was due to be inaugurated into the club the day before yesterday through a special ceremony. A ceremony that the defendant himself was placed in charge of organising and arranging.

“The defendant arranged ahead of time that he was to meet with the victim to formally inform him of his expulsion at the same time as began these ceremonial preparations. The prosecution, therefore, asserts that the defendant did, with malicious intent and malice of forethought, met with the victim beforehand and killed him unlawfully.

“He did so by hitting him repeatedly over the head with this—” Abidon reached under the prosecution’s bench and took out the alleged murder weapon, holding it high for the benefit of the court. “—this skull, which serves as a mascot for the club, affectionately referred to as ‘Norman’.”

“Oh my! An actual human skull? How frightening!” exclaimed the judge. “Still, how can you assert that it was the defendant who committed this horrifying crime?”

“Because, milord,” replied Abidon, “the defendant was the only one who had a key to this locked room mystery—the only door to the room is several inches thick and designed to be entirely impenetrable, as is the rest of the room. The windows are only able to open a few centimetres in width, and the entire room is located on the third floor of a building on High Window Avenue. And a cursory investigation has proven that there is no way for anybody to hide themselves within the room.”

“Very compelling evidence, I must admit.”

“HOLD IT!”

“If that is the case,” said the second juror, “I believe that we may finally be able to put this matter to rest. Dearly beloved, let us join hands together in prayer to mourn this defendant’s hopeless case. A truly, tragic death, indeed!”

With a knock of his hand against the jury bench, a fireball flew through the air and landed into the “guilty” side of the giant set of scales behind the judge, tilting them towards the right.

(Yikes! Already it’s not looking good!)

“An excellent opening argument indeed, Sir Prosecutor, but not necessarily one that would be enough to force a conviction in my opinion,” said the fourth juror, tenting his fingers together. “However, I would wish to hear more on this matter. It is only whenever we have eliminated every possible lead that we may know for certain what, exactly, has transpired.”

“I am inclined to agree with Juror #4,” said the judge with a nod.

Abidon nodded back in response.

“I acknowledge that particular fact, milord. As such, the prosecution would now like to call its first witnesses to the stand—Detective Athelney Jones of Her Majesty’s Metropolitan Police Service and Dr. Yujin Mikotoba, the police’s current acting chief coroner and medical examiner.”

#the adventure of the detection club #stories #fics #self insert #OTP: Red Dragon

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