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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

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Love and Medicine ~ 2

MASTERLIST

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Word Count: 4,600ish

Summary: Your second day as an intern continues.....

You were trying not to make it obvious that you were hurrying down the hall. But you were pretty sure you were failing miserably. As you continued, without looking back, a hand suddenly grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into an on-call room.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, stumbling through the door. You looked to see that it was Steve—Dr. Rogers. “Dr. Rogers—“

“Dr. Rogers?” He repeated, sounding a little hurt. “This morning it was Steve. Now it’s Dr. Rogers.”

“Dr. Rogers, we should pretend it never happened.”

“What never happened, you sleeping with me last night? Or you throwing me out this morning? Because both are fond memories I’d like to hold onto.”

“No. There will be no memories. I'm not the girl in the bar anymore, and you're not the guy. This can't exist. You get that, right?”

“You took advantage of me and now you want to forget about it.”

“I did not take—“

“I was drunk, vulnerable and good-looking and you took advantage.”

You gave him a tight smile. “Okay, I was the one who was drunk, and you are not that good-looking.”

“Well, maybe not today. But last night, last night I was very good-looking. I had my blue shirt on, my good-looking shirt, you took advantage.”

“I did not take—“

“You want to take advantage again? Say Friday night?”

“Did you just— No! You're an attending. And I'm your intern. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve seen me naked.”

Steve simply smirked. “Well, I have.”

“Dr. Rogers. This is inappropriate. Has that ever occurred to you?”

You quickly left the room, leaving Steve staring at the shutting door with a sigh. He stepped out and over to the nearest nurses station.

“Oh, no,” another doctor came up, handing papers over to a nurse behind a desk. “I’ve seen that look before… I know that look, I think I invented it.”

“Oh shut it, Tony,” Steve said, coming up beside him.

“You know you—“

“I said shut it, didn’t I?”

“Okay, okay.” Tony held his hands up in defense. “I’ll shut it. Just don’t come whining to me when it all blows to hell.”

~~~

Deciding you needed to get your mind off Dr. Rogers, you went up to the OR gallery. You were sitting with other interns, watching Scott Lang prep for surgery.

“He’s going to faint,” one of the interns commented. “He’s a fainter.”

“Naaah, code brown,” another one added. “Right in his pants.”

“He’s all about the flops. He’s going to sweat himself unsterile.”

“Ten bucks says he messes up the McBird,” a third one said.

“Twenty says he cries,” Natasha, who you were seated by, said.

“I’ll put twenty on a total meltdown,” the second intern added.

“Fifty says he pulls the whole thing off,” you interrupted, fed up. Everyone looked at you, silent, while your eyes remained on Scott. “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where’s your loyalty?”

There was a brief pause before Natasha continued, “Seventy five says he can’t even ID the appendix.”

“I’ll take that action,” Val responded, others agreeing.

“Okay, Lang,” Maria Hill said in the OR, which you could hear in the gallery. “Let’s see what you can do.”

“Here it comes,” you whispered, trying to be hopeful.

“Scalpel,” Scott requested, hand out.

“Scalpel,” a nurse replied, putting the instrument in his hand.

As Scott took it, the interns cheered from in the gallery. Dr. Hill quickly motioned for them to shut up.

“That Hill, she’s trouble,” Val commented, causing some interns to laugh.

“More pressure,” Hill advised as Scott got ready to cut. “Human flesh is a tough shell, dig in.”

“Pick-ups,” Scott requested after cutting.

“Pick-ups,” the nurse responded.

“Clamp.”

“Met some bone. I’m there.”

“Damn, he got the peritoneum and he opened him up,” a male intern commented.

“I told you,” you gloated. “He’s going to pull it off.”

“Scalpel,” Scott requested.

“Scalpel,” the nurse responded.

All of the interns watched with bated breath as Scott preformed the procedure.

“Appendix is out,” Scott stated, tossing it into a tray while the interns cheered.

“Not bad,” Hill commented.

“Thank you.”

“Now all you have to do is invert the stump into the chum and simultaneously pull up on the purse-strings but be careful not to—“ a rip sound came through “—break them.” Hill groaned. “He ripped the cecum. Got a bleeder. You’re filling with stool, what do you do now?”

“Uh.. uh….”

“Think. You start the suction, and you start digging for those purse-strings before she bleeds to death. Coulson, give him a clamp.”

“BP’s dropping,” a nurse informed.

“He’s choking,” Natasha stated.

“Come on, Scott,” you whispered.

“Today,” Hill urged, getting irritated. “Pull your balls out of your back pocket, let's go. What are you waiting for, suction?” Beeping started.

“Getting too low folks,” the nurse said. “Dr. Hill…”

“Get out of the way,” Hill said, pushing Scott over to take his place. “Pansy-ass idiot. Get him out of here. Suction… Clamp.”

“007,” the male intern from before stated.

“007,” another intern repeated. “Yep, that’s a total 007.”

“What’s 007 mean?” Val asked.

“Licensed to kill,” you answered.

~~~

A few hours later, you and the rest of your intern group had found a basement hallway with empty beds along it. You all decided it was a nice place to lay low for a moment.

“007,” Scott muttered. “They're calling me 007, aren't they?”

“No one’s calling you 007,” you and Clint responded.

“I was on the elevator and Quill whispered 007.”

“Oh, how many times do we have go through this, Scott, five, ten?” Natasha was fed up. “Give me a number or else I'm going to hit you.”

“Quill whispered 007 and everyone laughed.”

“He wasn’t talking about you,” Val said.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” You asked.

“Yes.”

“007 is a state of mind,” Natasha said.

“So says the girl who finished top of her class as Stanford.”

All of their pagers went off, causing them to look down at them.

“Oh man,” you grumbled. “It’s 911 for Savannah Chase. I gotta go.” You ran off, leaving the rest of them there.

“Maybe I should've gone into geriatrics,” Scott continued. “No one minds when you kill an old person.”

“Surgery is hot, it's the Marines, it's the macho, it's hostile, it's hardcore,” Natasha said. “Geriatrics is for freaks who live with their mothers and never have sex.”

“I’ve got to get my own place.”

“Same,” Clint agreed.

~~~

Running into Savannah’s room, you immediately noticed that she was sitting up, reading a magazine.

“Took you long enough,” Savanah said.

“You’re okay?” You huffed, trying to catch your breath. “The nurse paged me 911.”

“I had to go all Exorcist to get her to even pick up the phone.”

“Wait. There’s—There’s nothing wrong with you?”

“I’m bored.” She shrugged. “I thought you could help me.”

“You little— I’m not your personal assistant.”

“You don't have to wig out. The pageant's supposed to be on cable, but this crappy hospital doesn't get the channel. If that cow Casey Childs is gonna walk off with my crown, I have to see it. Can you call someone?”

“Okay. This is an actual hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep, and stop wasting my time.”

“But I can't sleep. My head's all full.”

“That's called thinking. Go with it.”

You stormed off. If this is how the patients were all the time, you didn’t know how much longer you could last. And it was only your first day, of your intern year.

~~~

Hours later, you were standing at a nurses station, working on paperwork for a patient, while you overheard another conversation.

“4B’s got post-op pneumonia,” it was a male intern from before. “Let’s start antibiotics.”

“Are you sure that’s the right diagnosis?” A male nurse questioned.

“Well I don't know, I'm only an intern. Here's an idea, why don't you go spend four years in med school and let me know if it's the right diagnosis. She's short of breath, she's got fever, she's post-op. Start the antibiotics.” The intern walked over to you, clearly checking you out. “I hate nurses. I’m Peter. I’m with Sam Wilson, you’re with Gamora, right?”

“She may not have pneumonia, you know. She could be splinting, or have a PE.”

“Like I said, I hate nurses.” Peter began to walk away.

“What did you just say? Did you just call me a nurse?”

“Well, if the white cap fits…”

You groaned as your pager beeped, turning away to not have to see Peter anymore. “Damn it, Savannah.” You left, not an any hurry to get to Savannah’s room.

“She seeing anybody?” Peter asked Clint.

“I don’t know,” Clint replied.

Peter whistled. “She’s hot.”

“I'm friends with her. I mean, kinda friends, I mean, not, you know, actually friends, not exactly, but we're tight. We hang out. I mean, really only just today—“

“Dude.”

“—but—“

“Dude. Stop talking.”

~~~

You took your time getting to Katie’s room. As you walked up the hallway towards her room, you noticed nurses rushing in. That’s when you finally picked up your pace.

“What took you so long?” A blonde female nurse yelled as you entered the room, overwhelmed by the sight before you.

“She's having multiple grand mal seizures, now how do you want to proceed?” A male nurse asked. You froze at the doorway, unable to move. “Dr. L/N? Are you listening to me? She's got Diazepam, 2mg Diazepam, I just gave her a second ago, Dr. L/N, you need to tell us what you want to do. Dr. L/N!”

Still panicking, you picked up Katie’s chart. “Okay, she’s full on prazepam?” You asked.

“She’s had 4mg,” the female nurse responded.

“Did you page Dr. Gamora and Dr. Rogers?”

“Yes!”

“The prazepam’s not working,” the male nurse stated.

“Phenobarbital, load her with Phenobarbital,” you ordered, still struggling to move from your spot. The scene before you, extremely overwhelming.

“Pheno’s in.”

“No change,” a third nurse said.

“You paged Dr. Rogers?” You repeated.

“I just told you—“

“Well page him again! Stat!”

“What do you want to do? Dr. L/N, you need to tell us what you want to do!” The monitors started beeping. “Heart’s stopped!”

“Code blue, code blue! Code blue, code blue!” The first nurse shouted.

The nurses pulled out the defibrillators as your brain finally began to work again. You quickly took the defibrillators away from the nurse.

“Charge pulse of two hundred,” you ordered.

“Charged,” the nurse responded. “Clear.” You used the defibrillators on Katie’s chest, only to get no response. “Still defib. Nothing. 19 seconds.”

“Charge to 300.”

“300.” You tried again, only to fail. “27 seconds.”

“Charge to 360.” You tried again, with still nothing. “Come on, Savannah.”

“49 seconds.”

“At 60 seconds you’re supposed to admit her—“

“Charge again!” You ordered, the nurse not following. “Charge again.” The nurse does and you try again. On the monitor you see Savannah’s blood pressure (BP) register. “Anything?”

“I see sinus rhythm,” the first nurse replied.

“Blood pressure’s coming up,” the second nurse added.

“Alright now. Pressure’s returning. Grid’s coming back—“

“What the hell happened?” Dr. Rogers asked, running into the room.

“She had a seizure,” you responded, “and—“

“A seizure?”

“Her heart stopped.”

“You were supposed to be monitoring her.”

“I checked on her and she—“

“I got it.” Dr. Rogers started checking Savannah. “Just—just go.” You turned away, heading out. “Someone give me her chart, please?”

As you walked out of the room, you weren’t feeling the greatest. You were still overwhelmed and disappointed in yourself. Gamora was waiting for you not far outside the room.

“You get a 911, you page me immediately,” Gamora stated, “not in the five minutes it takes you to get to the emergency, immediately, you are on my team and if somebody dies it's my ass.” You kept walking, needing some fresh air. “You hear me, L/N?”

“Y/N?” Natasha called out.

You kept walking, ignoring everyone. Natasha followed you as you exited the main doors. It was raining outside, but you didn’t care. You leaned over and threw up on the patch of grass outside the hospital. Natasha watched from the doorway. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your mouth and headed back for the doors.

“If you tell anyone, ever…” You threatened Natasha as you entered the hospital.

~~~

Just after hour 24, all the interns were paged to the conference room. Looking around, you could tell everyone was exhausted. Natasha was sitting next to you, you furrowed your brows in confusion as you watched her.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m suturing a banana,” Natasha answered, “with the vain hope that it wakes up my brain.” Scott laughed from beside them. “What’re you smiling at, 007?” Scott immediately stopped laughing. “I’m sorry, I get mean when I’m tired.”

“You know what? I don’t care,” Scott said. “I comforted a family, and I get to hang out in the OR today. All is well.”

“Does anybody know why we’re here?” Clint asked.

“We’re probably all getting fired,” Val suggested. “And we’ve only been here for 24 hours. They’re going to get rid of the whole class and start fresh.”

“Well good morning,” Dr. Rogers greeted as he entered the room with Gamora. “I'm going to do something pretty rare for a surgeon, I'm going to ask interns for help. I've got this kid, Savannah Chase. Right now, she's a mystery. She doesn't respond to her meds. Labs are clean, scans are pure, but she's having seizures. Grand mal seizures with no visible cause. She's a ticking clock. She's going to die, if I don't make a diagnosis. Which is where you come in. I can't do it alone. I need your extra minds, extra eyes, I need you to play detective, I need you to find out why Savannah is having seizures. I know you're tired, you're busy, you've got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand. So, I'm going to give you an incentive. Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Savannah needs surgery. You get to do what no interns get to do. Scrub in to assist on an advanced procedure. Dr Gamora's going to hand you Savannah's chart. The clock is ticking fast, people. If we're going to save Savannah's life, we have to do it soon.”

All the interns grabbed copies of her chart and went their separate ways. You stayed sitting at the conference room table, trying to avoid helping with Savannah’s case.

“Hey, I want in on Rogers’ surgery,” Natasha stated, turning to you. "You've been the intern on Savannah since the start. You want to work together? We find the answer, we have a fifty-fifty chance of scrubbing in.”

“I'll work with you, but I don't want in on the surgery,” you replied. “You can have it.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s the biggest opportunity any intern will ever get.”

“I don’t want to spend any more time with Rogers than I have to.”

“What do you have against Rogers?”

“If we find the answer, the surgery’s yours. Do you want to work together or not?”

Natasha grinned, nodding her head. “Oh yeah.”

~~~

“Well, she doesn't have anoxia, chronic renal failure or acidosis,” Natasha stated while you and her were seated at a table in the medical center’s library. “It's not a tumor because her CT's clean. Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won't work with Rogers?”

“Nope,” you replied. “What about infection?”

“No. There's no white count, she has no ceteal lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap, just tell me.”

“You can't comment, make a face, or react in any way.” Natasha gave a slight nod. “We had sex.”

Natasha’s mouth opened in surprise before she quickly closed it. “What about an aneurysm?” She continued, trying to do as you had asked.

“No blood on the CT, and no headaches.”

“Okay. There's no drug use, uh, no pregnancy, no trauma… was he good? I mean, he looks like he would be, was it any good?”

“What are the answers?” You ignored her questions. The truth was, he was good. REALLY good. The best sex you’ve had in, well, ever. “What if no one comes up with anything?”

“You mean if she dies?”

“Yeah.”

“This is gonna sound really bad, but I really wanted that surgery.”

“She's just never going to get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be almost winning Miss Teen whatever. You know what her pageant talent is?”

"They have talent?”

“Rhythmic gymnastics.” You both laughed.

“Oh, come on.”

“What is rhythmic gymnastics? I don't know - I can't even say it, I don't know what it is.”

“Isn’t it like something with a ball, and a—“ You suddenly went still, realizing what was going on with Savannah. “What? Y/N, what?”

“Get up!” You jumped up. “Come on!”

You explained to Natasha, as you both ran to find Dr. Rogers, that you believed she had an aneurysm.

“—the only thing she could possibly need is a—“ Natasha was saying as you found Dr. Rogers heading onto an elevator. “Oh, oh, Dr. Rogers! Just one moment, um, uh, Savannah competes in beauty pageants—“

“I know that,” Dr. Rogers responded. “But we have to save her life anyway.”

“Okay, she has no headaches, no neck pain, her CT's clean, there's no medical proof of an aneurysm—“

“Right.” Dr. Rogers stepped into the elevator.

“—but what if she has an aneurysm anyway?”

“There are no indicators.”

“Ah,” Natasha stopped the elevator, “but she twisted her ankle, a few weeks ago when she was practicing for the pageant—“

“Look, I appreciate you're trying to help, but—“

“This is not helping!” A doctor in the elevator shouted.

“She fell,” you tried. “When she twisted her ankle, she fell.”

“It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head,” Natasha explained, “you know she got right back up, iced her ankle and everything was fine, it was a fall so minor her doctor didn't even think to mention it when I was taking her history, but she did fall.”

“Well, you know the chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm, one in a million!” Dr. Rogers said. “Literally.”

The elevator door finally was allowed to close. You and Natasha looked at each other with a sigh before turning away. You’re caught by surprise when you hear the elevator ding. Turning back around, you see Dr. Rogers stepping out.

“Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Where?” Natasha asked.

“To find out if Savannah’s one in a million.”

~~~

Getting Savannah’s scans done and back seemed like an eternity for the three of you. When the scans were finally up, it turned out that you had been right.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dr. Rogers commented.

“There is it,” the tech operating the scan pointed at the dark spots on the monitor.

“It's minor, but it's there. It's a cerebachnoid haemorrhage. She's bleeding into her brain. Let’s go.” Dr. Rogers led them out of the room and down the hall. “She could've gone her entire life without it ever being a problem. One tap in the right spot—“

“And explode,” Natasha said.

“Exactly. Now I have to fix it. You two did great work. Love to stay and kiss your asses, but I gotta tell Savannah s parents she's having surgery.” They reached the nurses station. “Savannah Chase's chart, please.”

“Here you go,” a nurse said, handing it over.

“Oh, and Dr. Rogers,” Natasha said, "you said that you’d pick someone to scrub in if we helped.”

“Oh, yes, right,” Dr. Rogers responded. “Um, I'm sorry I can't take you both, it's going to be a full house. Y/N, I'll see you in OR.” You looked at Dr. Rogers, who’s blue eyes felt like they could see right through you. Natasha was also looking at you, waiting for you to give her the surgery. “Good,” Dr. Rogers continued, “thank you.” Then he took his leave.

Natasha looked back at you, clearly pissed. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You said that you didn’t want to work with him anymore, that if we worked together and found the answer, you’d give me the surgery.”

“Natasha…”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Don’t Natasha me. He looked at you with those gorgeous blue eyes and you couldn’t say no! You’re already wrapped around his finger and I’m not going to be a pawn in the game.”

She stormed off. Leaving you standing there, knowing she was right.

~~~

Natasha and Val were sitting back in the empty corridor with the spare beds, again.

“Val,” Natasha complained, trying to get Val to stop making excuses for you.

“Maybe Y/N couldn’t—“

“Val!”

“I’ll tell him I changed my mind,” you said, coming into the corridor. “You can—“

“No, no, don’t do me any favors. It’s fine.”

“Natasha—“

“You know what, you did a cutthroat thing, deal with it. Don't come to me for absolution, you want to be a shark, be a shark.”

“I’m not—“

“Oh yes you are. Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm gooey places. No, screw you. I don't get picked for surgeries because I slept with my boss. You know, some of us have to earn what we get.” Natasha stormed away, again.

“Wait…” Val said from behind. “You slept with someone… who did you sleep with?!” You groaned, resting your head in your hands. “Was it Stark? I’ve only met him once but he’s hot. But I’d only hit Banner and Hill too. Oh! Was it—“

“I’m not doing this.” You shook your head and walked away.

“I’ll find out soon enough!” Val laughed.

~~~

You went searching for Dr. Rogers, determined to give the surgery to Natasha. You found him shaving Savannah’s head.

“I promised I’d make her look cool,” he said upon noticing you. “Apparently being a bald beauty queen is the worst thing that happened in the history of the world.”

“Did you choose me for the surgery because I slept with you?” You quietly asked.

“Yes,” he quickly answered before a long pause. “I’m kidding.”

“I'm not going to scrub in for surgery. You should ask Natasha. She really wants it.”

“You're Savannah's doctor. And on your first day, with very little training, you helped save her life. You earned the right to follow her case to the finish. You… you shouldn't let the fact that we had sex get in the way of you taking your shot. Besides, it was very good sex. It should have given you a boost.”

“Dr. Rogers, I— ugh!” You quickly left, leaving him to chuckled to himself.

~~~

Clint and you were outside of the medical center, needing some fresh air. Clint sat on a bench as you paced in front of him.

“I wish I wanted to be a chef,” you said. “Or a ski instructor. Or a kindergarten teacher.”

“You know, I would've been a really good postal worker,” Clint said, dazed. “I'm dependable. You know, my parents tell everyone they meet that their son's a surgeon. As if it's a big accomplishment. A superhero or something. If they could see me now…”

“When I told my mother I wanted to go to medical school, she tried to talk me out of it. Said I didn't have what it takes to be a surgeon. That I'd never make it. So, the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good.”

“We’re going to survive this, right?”

“We can only hope.”

~~~

You were standing at a nurses station, trying to fill in a patient chart, as Dr. Fury, the Chief of Surgery, was taking to Peter Quill, the intern.

“She’s still short of breath,” Fury stated. “Did you get an ABG or a chest film?”

“Oh, yes sir, I did,” Peter answered, a little bit too cockily.

“And what did you see?”

“Oh, well, I had a lot of patients last—“

“Name the common causes of post-op fever.”

“Uh… yes, sir.” Peter quickly pulled a notebook out of his pocket.

“From your head. Not from a book. don’t look it up, learn it. It should be in your head. Name the common causes of post-op fever.”

“Uh...the common causes of post-op…”

“Can anybody name the common causes of post-op fever?” Fury shouted to the whole floor. Everyone stopped, one girl pulling out her own notebook.

“Wind, water, wound, walking, wonder drugs,” you stated, causing everyone to look at you. “The five W’s. Most of the time it’s wind, splinting or pneumonia. Pneumonia’s easy to assume, especially if you’re too busy to do the tests.”

Fury gave Peter a pointed look before looking back at you. “What do you think’s wrong with 4B?”

“The fourth W, walking. I think she’s a promise candidate for a pulmonary ambulus.”

“How would you diagnose?”

“Spiral CT, VQ scan, provide O2, dose with Heparin, and consult for an IVC filter.”

Fury turned back to Peter. “Do exactly as she says, then tell Wilson that I want you off this case.” He turned back to you and Peter walked away. “Very impressive, Dr. L/N. Can’t wait to see more. Welcome to the gang.”

“Thank you, sir.”

~~~

You were scrubbed in and waiting in the OR with the rest of those who would be on Savannah’s surgery before Dr. Rogers was. The OR and gallery were full, wanting to watch the one in a million brain aneurysm.

“Alright everybody,” Dr. Rogers said, coming in with his red-white-and-blue scrub cap on. “It’s a beautiful night to save lives. Let’s have some fun.”

You watched in awe as Dr. Rogers performed the surgery. It was the greatest thing you had ever witnessed and you longed to be more apart of it than you were. After the surgery was over, you sat outside the OR in a happy daze.

“It was a good surgery,” Natasha said as she stopped in front of you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Natasha sat beside you, sighing. “We don't have to do that thing where I say something, and then you say something, and then somebody cries, and there's like a moment—“

“Yuck.”

“Good. You should get some sleep. You look like crap.”

“I look better than you.”

“That’s not possible.”

Natasha then took her leave. Dr. Rogers then came out of the OR. He stopped at the desk for some paperwork while you stared at him, still dazed.

“That was amazing,” you said with a shy smile.

“Mmm,” Dr. Rogers hummed in agreement, still working on the papers.

“You practice on cadavers, you observe, and you think you know what you're going to feel like standing over that table, but...that was such a high.” Dr. Rogers looked at you and nodded. “I don’t know why anybody does drugs.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you smiled.

Dr. Rogers smiled back a bit. “I should go do this.”

“You should.”

He started walking backwards, unable to take his eyes off you just yet. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you around.”

next chapter >

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

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

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

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pulchratormentum · 3 years

Text

@dcngerwaits is a sinner && sent 26 of those headcanon symbols. i recognize your sins and will provide you with 26 nsfw headcanon. and they're all gonna be sex related, because i know what you came for, daed.

so if you want to know all about dena's sex habits and lifestyle, go forward::

001: dena is easily classified as hypersexual. chances of her sleeping with someone who makes her feel something is extremely high. chances of her sleeping with someone to pass time, also high.

002: this little dumpster fire is an actual brat. yes, she will call you daddy, but she's going to make your life a living hell when she gets the chance to do it. she wants to see what will happen, and she wants you to lose control and fuck her through a wall. not against it.

003: dena has no gag reflex. whatsoever. take that as you will. just be warned: she's going to deepthroat, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop her.

004: brat girl has an oral fixation. friendly reminder she is a brat: you take that phone call, and her tiny ass will climb under your desk and swallow you down. there's nothing we can do about it. she likes things in her mouth.

005: given her history as a dancer, she is very flexible. she spent the first multiple years of her life doing acro/gymnastics. she will do a full backbend if given the opportunity, and there's very few positions that will hurt her.

006: even if she is a brat, she is also a switch. if given the opportunity and any sign of weakness, she will entirely take over the scene/moment.

007: the downside, she can suffer from subdrop depending on how far you push her in a scenario. she's generally easy to pull out of it, but if it isn't caught, she can be very destructive when left on her own.

008: she can and will look for the opportunity to teach men about their prostate. if you wanna get pegged, i mean. she is more than happy to do it.

009: dena generally exists in a realm of polyamory. with consent, she will watch her boyfriends kiss.

010: the worst possible thing you can do to this girl is leave her mid or after sex. she doesn't tolerate being left alone well, and she will get very despondent. it is a trauma response, and she will likely not forgive you for it.

011: dena has a history of sleeping with rich and powerful people for money. does she need it? no. is it fun anyway? yes. probably not fun for their bank accounts, though.

012: dena's type is literally cute girls and men who could literally kill her but choose not to. ask her how many times she's got turned on by someone doing something violent? so many.

013: she can and will squirt with proper stimulation. put a towel down. or a shower curtain. the plastic waterproof kind.

014: dena has and does refer to herself as a gutterwhore. there is no excuse for this. she's just nasty.

015: if you choke her, she's going to nut.

016: if you bite her hard enough, she's going to nut.

017: she likes being tied up and not being in control if you get her past the immediate brat response at being told what to do.

018: there is no safety for your back if you give her the chance. she has a habit of digging her nails in and bleeding people.

019: she's spent 10k on sex toys in one sitting. why? because she can, and because she knows herself. if you can't keep going, she's going to the toy closet, and it's gonna happen.

020: her current record is eighteen rounds before passing out. let her live.

021: she will not partake in any weird bodily fluids. there will be no peepeepoopoo in her presence, and she will actually stab you if you even suggest it. did it need to be said? yes. she has few limits, but that? hard pass.

022: dena has a habit of calling men ( and anna ) daddy in the bedroom. blame john winchester. we all do.

023: she likes the feeling of being full. plug her. i promise she wants you to.

024: dena rarely wears panties. and sundresses. she doesn't like the feeling of jeans. is it easy access? yes. should i get her some help? probably also yes. if she is wearing panties, they cost more than the average cost of rent in new york city.

025: dena can and will use sex as a mean to an end. she will use sex for information and getting her way. it's always consensual, but her overriding goal may not be what you expect when you hop in bed with her. it's nothing personal. but it might be.

026: and last, but not least, our deepest shame. she really likes double penetration ( sometimes more. if you give her the chance ). we don't know why. at this point, we just don't fucking ask.

we didn't even mention the gun kink. it's fine. you only sent 26.

#→how do we know about o u r s e l v e s; headcanon #( n s f w headcanon )#answered;; meme stuff

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disconnected-from-reality · 5 years

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Fanfic Rec: 00Q Part 3

It’s been more than a year! I have totally been procrastinating in doing this if I’m truly honest. A lot of things happened in my life as well! There are good and bad things, but what matters most is that I still have a number of fics to recommend for you! I haven’t stopped reading, don’t worry.

Also I think it’s a good time to post my list. The next Bond movie has released its trailer and the 00Q crumbs we got from the trailer got a lot of shippers back on board. If you’re that person, you might want to check these fanfics out!

To see the other parts, click here for part 1 and for part 2.

Let Love In by dhampir72 [Words: 21,437 | Teens and Up Audiences] They're still learning that love is more of a journey and less of a destination. [A series of interconnected vignettes].

Ulysses by girlbookwrm [Words: 89,065 | Teens and Up Audiences] “Paperwork for the new head of Q-Branch,” Tanner said. “Of course.” The words were like glass in his throat. Smoke inhalation was a bitch. His brain felt slow and foggy, like it was full of smoke too. “Who shall I take them to?” M lifted one white brow. “They’re for you, Quartermaster.” Bond and Q are drawn together by names, work, and a certain Aston Martin. In which Q is kidnapped once, Bond is poisoned twice, and Eve is a badass on at least three occasions. AKA that time I tripped and wrote 80,000 words of 00Q. All titles unapologetically stolen from Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Espionage is a Family Affair by nagapdragon [Words: 78.403 | Mature] It's common knowledge that angels make good weapons and terrible soldiers. They're hard to kill, hard to catch, and leave a swathe of destruction wherever they go. That's why MI6 likes them. James Bond, Agent 007, is one of the most devastating weapons MI6 will admit to having. Explosions follow his every whim and he's nearly impossible to kill, despite the best efforts of terrorists worldwide. He's second only to the weapons MI6 pretends don't exist- archangels are only a theory, after all. Aren't they?

Bond to You by therunawaypen [Words: 5,749 | Mature] Bond isn't a name. It's a rare breed of people that have designated soulmates, to whom a Bond will be eternally faithful to. Every child dreams of being a Bond's Chosen soulmate. James uses his status as a Bond to seduce many a mark into thinking they're his Chosen, while deep down he resents his identity because he has been unable to find his Chosen. Then he meets Q that fateful day in front of that painting.

How Q Hacked Online Dating by JayPendragon [Words: 23,836 | Explicit] “How does that lead to…?” Eve waves her hand at the mess behind Q’s back. Q feels his expression morph into a sly grin. “I have a new plan. I’m going to stay on these dating platforms, but I’m going to treat them as databases. Rather than waiting for an algorithm to set me up, I'm going to try reverse-engineering this entire system.” In which Q works in the private sector, still winds up friends with Eve, and applies science to his love life. Obviously, Eve gets involved.

Leading Edge by Batsutousai [Words: 7,251 | Teens and Up Audiences] All fae-born were raised on stories of how cruel dragon-borns were, how they had no care for anyone outside themselves and their greed, that they would sell their own mother's soul to the devil before allowing themselves to be hurt. They were told that all dragon-borns were to be killed on sight, and taught spells that would do just that, if ever given the chance. It would be just Q's luck that one of his agents was dragon-born.

Pen and Paper by Salios [Words: 5,300 | Teens and Up Audiences] Q wrung his hands anxiously, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. It was a bad habit, biting his lip, but he couldn’t help it when he was nervous. And he really did have reason to be nervous. Well, excited to the point of nearly crippling nervousness, actually. Today he’d finally get to meet his boyfriend of three years. For the first time ever.

people can surprise you (or not) by pdameron [Words: 10,538 | Teens and Up Audiences] “I’m not you, Bond. I don’t exactly have a technique for getting rich strangers to like me.” “Just do your naive cute puppy thing, and they’ll be doting on you in no time,” Bond replies as he pulls up to the grand estate. “My what?” Q asks incredulously. Bond doesn’t answer, simply giving him an indulgent smile. The fucker. (or: 00q meets Gosford Park. Except not really.)

A Common Solution by SailorChibi [Words: 17,654 | Teens and Up Audiences] Bond has been ignoring his biological needs. Boothroyd is retiring and MI6 is in need of a new Quartermaster. What do these two things have in common? They both have an easy solution... if only M can get Bond to extract a certain hacker NOTE: This does not have the “James Bond/Q” tag, but I’ll add it in my list anyway.

Taken by Nana_41175 [Words: WIP | Explicit] Or, the cheating fic that *nearly* is! Q is engaged to be married, but not to Bond. Excerpt: Bond blinked. “Boyfriend? What do you mean, boyfriend?” “I mean exactly that,” said Moneypenny. “Honestly, what’s the matter with you? Q’s been seeing someone for over a year. And if I’m not mistaken, Daniel is going to pop the question on him this evening. Dan asked me for advice on the ring, after all.” NOTE: This is currently a WIP fanfic, but it’s almost done with 2 chapters left to be posted. Would be a bummer if I don’t add it, right?

His Keeper by Nana_41175 [Words: 45,482 | Explicit] Protecting the Quartermaster entails a special set of circumstances, and Q is the last one to know. Excerpt: “Your identity has been compromised,” M said as he leaned forward in his chair, his features grim even as his tone remained even and calm. “I am standing you down from all your duties in Q branch. Kindly hand in all personal computers and devices. I am placing you on administrative leave, effective immediately. You need to disappear for a while, Q, for your own safety. Think of this as the holiday you never had these past two years. We will get down to the bottom of this and repair the damage done; otherwise I shall have to ask you to step down. ”Q gaped at him, finally speechless. “At any rate, quartermasters are entitled to double-O agents as bodyguards, when the need arises, and he personally volunteered,” M continued as though he’d not just dropped the equivalent of a bomb and a death sentence through slow torture rolled into one, “and I do agree that under the circumstances, 007 would be the best choice as your bodyguard.”

Daddy and Uncle James by 1MissMolly [Words: 26,115 | Teens and Up Audiences] James Bond can remain cool and collected in the most trying of circumstances. He is an expert at hand to hand combat and marksman with numerous weapons. He can seduce any woman or man he chooses. He has the highest success rate at achieving his goals, and he has his sights on the young Quartermaster. The only thing standing in his way is the only thing that will surely defeat him. A six year old girl named Elizabeth Park. Bond's planned seduction of Q is interrupted by the arrival of Q's daughter, Lizzie.

Treason, Traitors, and Treachery by Kryptaria, zooeyscigar [Words: 63,230 | Mature] All James Bond wanted was a quiet holiday on his luxury motoryacht on the Costa del Sol. Time to recuperate and think about his future with MI6. But his plans get hijacked when a traitor to the crown returns, bringing news of an even greater threat to MI6. And the traitor isn't working alone.Thankfully, neither is James.

Playing the Part by ElektricAngel [Words: 23,116 | Teens and Up Audiences] James Bond comes into Q Branch after a mission with all of his equipment accounted for and in tact, and a complete mission report in Q's inbox. Q is pleasantly surprised and more than a little suspicious. Rightly so, as it happens, because Bond makes an unusual request of him. And yet, his license to kill is not the only thing that makes the man difficult to say no to...

Breathe With Me by Flantastic [Words: 7,575 | Explicit] When James Bond goes back to MI6 following his disastrous relationship with Dr Madeleine Swann, Q wants nothing to do with him. Then there's an accident in Q-Branch...

Bittersweet by dr_girlfriend [Words: 14,229 | Explicit] The first time Bond flirted with Q, it was purely out of self-defense. The second time Bond flirted with Q was largely manipulation. The third time Bond flirted with Q, he just wanted to feel something. The fourth time Bond flirted with Q was out of sheer boredom.Somehow, flirting with Q became something of a habit for Bond.And then, it became something else.

A Bond of Matrimony by enigma_kar [Words: 12,691 | Mature] The one where Bond’s next mission involves going undercover with Q. Includes: banter, fake marriage, espionage, car chases, life-or-death situations, and Moneypenny taking far too much delight in the whole affair.

as permanent as stone cathedrals by pdameron [Words: 6,002 | Teens and Up Audiences] Q has been in love for two years, six months, and twelve days when James Bond walks away, leaving him with a bleeding head and a broken heart on a dark and noisy London bridge.

just like old times (please don’t ever change) by Rosslyn [Words: 5,173 | Teens and Up Audiences] Sometimes when Q is alone in his workshop and there is an experiment that needs to be supervised and he can’t go home and he can’t sleep, he watches Bond’s vitals.

How Much Love Can the Weight of Water Carry? by 00QEros (Dassandre) [Words: 39,549 | Explicit] Though Bond returned to MI6 after his ill advised jaunt around the globe with Madeleine Swann, Q still struggles with his own feelings for the agent in spite of the fact that Bond is clearly not the same man as the one who walked away from their friendship on Westminster Bridge. James regrets having left London and MI6, but it is nothing in comparison to the remorse he feels for abandoning Q. However, James has made repairing their friendship his primary goal in the hope of gaining something he never realised he needed as badly as he does. But Bond really hasn’t had a good time of it lately. Breaking his leg in a freak accident, James camps out at Q’s flat when the white-washed, soulless walls of Medical become too much for him to tolerate. Unfortunately, his leg is only the beginning of Bond’s health problems, and Q is conscripted into being James’ caretaker. Confined to the close quarters of Q’s flat, the Quartermaster finds himself opening back up to the agent, but will the two men find their way to one another as they should have done years ago, or is time no longer on their side?

So I guess that’s it for now! I still have a couple in my belt, but most of them are still WIP so I’d keep them for now. I’ll be adding them once they are finished.

#00Q #James Bond #Q(James Bond)#fanfic rec #fic rec

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sadly-too-sad · 4 years

Text

Bandits and the Gracious. Episode 007.

Have you ever felt lonely.? Have you ever felt sad.?

Have you ever cried lonely, and felt so bad.?

There are so many feelings we should feel. Things we should realise and moments we should deal with. Loneliness can be amazing sometimes. We can escape reality and stay away from toxic events and people. In this case, the focus is not escaping reality. It is creating a world for ourselves. To live happily and peacefully inside our minds.

"I don't know I feel sad"

"Why.?"

"I don't know"

"Cheer up, you'll be fine"

Is that it.? Am I going to be fine? I never felt fine that way. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I don't know how to explain my sadness nor my emptiness. Why am I taking things so hard.? Why am I feeling so wrong?

I feel like I'm losing friends. Should I send them a message. What am I going to talk.? Will they think I'm using them.? I wonder what she thinks about me. He must have said something to them. Should I post a status? Should I.......

It's the loneliness. It kills me slowly. It makes me wonder. It makes me overthink. It will never let me live in the moment. It is my inner voice, which speaks louder than my actions.

Have you ever felt anything I said before.? Tell me, have you ever felt nothing at all.? I have. I've been online for hours looking at people's "online" mark and statuses, yet never had a message from anyone. It's hard. Maybe it's harder to me, because I used to have people around me. I used to chill with people, go out on walks, movie nights and shopping. Now, nobody knows my existence. Nobody cares. Even if I reach out, I go out of words.

"Maybe you shouldn't expect too much" Yeah, good advice. Thanks.! But it feels the same. And it starts to feel every day, every time. It starts to feel like you can't stop thinking about it. It makes you think you're a loser. You have nothing. You don't even have friends. You lost everything. You're broke. You're a drug addict. You're alcoholic. Look at you. You're a mess. Why the hell are you even alive? Go die, loser.!

"MY AMBITION IS TO BE A DOCTOR"

"I want to be a pilot"

"I love reading books"

"I want to be a singer someday"

"I love you mom"

"I love you dad"

If you die, that's the end of the story. If you live, the pain will continue. But if you survive, you will see how things are going to be. Darling, Suicide is not the answer. It never was. If I had died, I won't be typing this right now. If I died nobody will know my story. If I have up, if I jumped into a train, the news will show a weak, useless, psychopath bleed into death.

We all have a choice.!

Either we fight, or we cry, we can always try. Keep breathing. You're not the only one who is struggling. Yes, you're alone, but it's not only you. I was there too.

Please Survive. Tell your story. You're the only person who can be you. Only you have your dreams, your passions and your tastes. Leave a mark in this world. Heal the world.

I believe you can do it. Because, I didn't believe I could. Believe in yourself. Take your time. Read books. Listen to good music. Stay Healthy. Love yourself. Reduce using, to stop doing drugs. It takes time, but it's better late than never.

Please live. ❤

If we die now, nobody will remember us.

Leave a mark, share your love, be kind because you're one of a kind.

One life, Live it.

I love you. I hope you do too.

LIVE, SURVIVE, INSPIRE.

Set free the emotions,

to see the light.

And whisper your passions,

Hidden inside.

The thoughts and desires,

which you hide,

Will inspire,

the ones who fight.

-AZ-

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cloubleoh · 7 years

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te volo

in which bond and q do fieldwork, or, the aftermath of q sleeping with bond and it's everything he's ever dreamed of, and then bond leaves and he still has to get up and go to work the next day

rated m ♛ 4.6k words ♛ mentions of sex ♛ ao3 link

There’s an incessant pinging noise in Q’s right ear and he has half a mind to leave Bond’s call unanswered, but he taps the comm anyway and sighs heavily as the doors to the lift slide shut and he slumps against the wall, letting his bags drop to the floor.

“Please, 007, it’s been a terribly long flight and I’d really like to find my room and have a rest.”

He can hear Bond chuckling on the other end, and Q has half a mind to tell the agent to sod off before Bond finally speaks. “And what’s the harm in having a quick chat with a colleague?”

“You know bloody well what the harm is. I’ve spent four hours on a cramped, rattling coach seat and several more after that on a bus that smelt horribly of manure, I’ve half a mind to castrate M once we’ve returned for lacking the foresight to alert me sooner about being assigned to fieldwork so I could book myself proper transportation, and you’re asking me if I want to have a chat.”

Bond’s responding laughter is enough to force Q to cut the connection with an indignant huff, and Bond’s already pinging him again before the lift doors can even open to Q’s floor. Q waits through one, two, three blips then answers with a reluctant groan.

“Apologies, Q, I wasn’t aware you’d had such a rough time coming in.”

“You wouldn’t, would you, not from your first-class seat and chauffeured drive into town. I should have switched out seating arrangements and made you sit with the lambs.” The only reason Q hasn’t hung up on Bond again is because his hands are full with luggage as he limps down the hall to his room and he cannot tap twice at the device in his ear to shut Bond up for five bloody seconds. He notes to himself, mentally, that he’ll have to work on voice-controlled comms when he gets back to Q-Branch. For now, he squints through smudged lenses for the placard that directs him to room towards the end of a long and winding hallway.

“Oh, they were lambs now, were they?

“Yes, 007, lambs, and I dare say I don’t need to elaborate.”

Q drops his bags again and rummages in his pockets for the room key before giving it a vehement swipe through the card reader and nudging the door open with his foot. The large windows drawn with blackout curtains and the plush couch in the sitting room is a welcome sight, and Q barely gives a thought to where he’s tossing his bags before he’s shrugged off his coat and collapses onto the couch.

“Well then, perhaps you should make yourself comfortable while I go have a look ‘round,” Bond says finally after Q has settled in to a mostly comfortable sprawled position along the length of the couch. Q finds himself nodding before he realizes Bond can’t see a nod over the comm, and he mumbles a very drowsy mmhm in response.

Even after all the trouble Q had been through to get to Savona, some part of him had to admit it felt good to get out of Six once in a while, breathe in different air and sleep in a ridiculously posh hotel room that was nothing like his homely flat back in London. Q wonders, idly, if this is what it’s always like for his agents.

“I’d join you but I’m afraid I’m much too tired to extract myself from this rather comfortable couch. You’ll have to go it alone, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright,” Bond replies, “I’m quite used to doing these things without a Quartermaster in my ear, you know.”

“Says the one with the better room and the more comfortable couch.”

“That’s hardly my fault, I’m not the one that booked it, am I?”

“Cheeky bastard,” Q smiles, rather tiredly. It’s quite a few minutes later, after Q has already closed his eyes and has barely started to drift off before he speaks again. “007, I don’t suppose…”

“Yes?”

Q squeezes his eyes tight and presses his lips together in a flat line, turning the words over and over in his head. Don’t, you know you can’t, he’s not going to, there’s no bloody point—

It’s a purely selfish request, one Q cannot help but ask, now that they are so far away from Six, and in the end it just slips out unintended. “I don’t suppose…you’d see me off to bed, would you?”

Bond falls silent in a way that Q almost thinks he’s pulled out his comm, but when Bond does finally speak, Q’s heart sinks into his shoes.

“I should be going. Might as well scope the place out before tomorrow.”

“…yes, of course. I’ll leave you to that, then.”

Q almost doesn’t hear the line fall silent, but when he’s sure Bond is no longer listening Q allows himself a choked, almost angry sob as he scrubs a hand down his face, kicking out in frustration at the arm of the couch before growing still. Of course he doesn’t, why would he, he’s James bloody Bond and you can’t get him out of your head—

It was one time, dammit, he let himself go for one time, and you let him do it—

Q’s limbs suddenly feel encased in lead, and he no longer has the strength to do anything but sink further into the couch and tuck his head into the divot of a throw pillow. He wants to seek Bond out, but the fight is gone from his bones, and before he can even think to remove his glasses, Q succumbs to sleep.

He awakes from a fitful slumber long after the sun has set to voices in his right ear, and it faintly occurs to Q that Bond must have forgotten to remove his comm after Q had gone to bed. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Q fumbles around in the dark for the lampswitch and opens his mouth to tell Bond to shut off his damn earwig, some people are trying to get some shut-eye, when he hears something that chills his blood ice-cold.

There’s a woman in the room with Bond.

Q can hear her voice, soft and lilting, every flirtatious word she whispers to Bond, and then Bond himself replying in turn, voice suddenly very husky and low in a way that’s got Q stumbling over his feet and collapsing onto the floor, nearly knocking into the lamp on the way down.

Q’s fingers curl into the loose carpet fibers and the wretched feeling in the pit of his stomach returns as Bond whispers lowly in the woman’s ear just how he plans to fuck her, and it shouldn’t shock him, really, Q’s heard this routine many times before today without hardly batting an eye. Everyone knew Bond has sex for information, but this time, this time Bond’s words have Q feeling as if he’s going to be sick.

In his small, cluttered flat, amidst tangled bedsheets and a tossed duvet, Bond had breathed the same lines in his ear too, and it hadn’t taken but a fraction of a heartbeat for Q to surrender to what he’d wanted, yearned for months.

God, what an utter fool he’d been.

He can hear Bond maneuvering the woman onto a bed, letting out a low growl as he does so, and Q’s cock traitorously throbs in response. It’s all Q can do to bite his lip and keep silent as Bond strips her, then claims her. He presses his head against the carpet and chances a ragged, shaky breath, trying very hard not to rut into the floor. Thankfully Bond doesn’t seem to notice, as he’s currently very engrossed in taking the woman apart, piece by piece, in words Q almost knows by heart.

Q could leave the connection open, listen to the way Bond breathes and moves against the sheets, and pretend there isn’t a woman beneath him. He could close his eyes and drift back to that evening he’d found Bond in his flat, bleeding out in the bath, and afterwards how Bond had pulled Q into a searing kiss that tasted heavily of scotch. In his right ear, Bond moans and Q is inexplicably harder than he’s been in months, and he almost gives in to the pure want that’s coursing through his veins to knead himself through his trousers.

Instead, Q rips the comm from his ear and throws it across the room, uncaring if it breaks as the earpiece smacks against the wall with a sharp clack. He storms out, pretends that Bond isn’t fucking someone three doors down from him, and his feet carry him all the way to the bar where he orders a glass of scotch, and another, and yet another still, downing them until his throat burns of it and he can no longer remember the sound of the woman in his ear, only the intoxicating taste of Bond’s lips against his own.

Q finally gets to see the woman the following day, thankfully at a different bar than the one he’d drank at the night before. She’s tall and slender, wearing a deep red dress with a plunging neckline, one that’s got several men turning their heads in her direction as she boldly slides into the stool next to his.

“You are the Quartermaster, correct?”

Q’s grip on his own glass tightens, annoyed with how loudly she’s just announced to the whole sodding world his identity. It does nothing to help the vestiges of a hangover that pounds behind his eyes, though he greets her with an easy smile anyway, just to keep up appearances. The only reason Q is still in the same room is because she has information that MI6 is desperate to get its hands on, and Q is the only one able to crack it.

“Quentin,” he offers, reaching out to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” the woman replies, and she gives her own name, though whether it is from the din of the people around him or from Bond’s voice in his ear, Q does not hear it and does not ask for it again. Like his own given name, hers is almost assuredly fake. Q will know this woman, this temporary armistice for all of a few days, and then she will disappear off the map as if she had never existed to begin with. There is no point to committing such a name and a face to memory, not when she still smells of Bond’s expensive cologne.

What he does do is offer her a drink, one she gladly accepts.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Mister Bond,” she says once the drink is in her hands, and Q fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m sure it’s all been quite bog standard, that I’m here to hack your employer’s files and do quite a few other computer-y things that would take far too long to explain.”

The woman’s responding laugh is sharp, far too loud for his throbbing headache that had nearly gone away but is now steadily growing worse. Q isn’t sure if it’s her fault or the alcohol this time around. “Yes, it was something like that. ‘Youngest Quartermaster to join the ranks of Six,’ was the phrase he used, I believe.”

“Youth is no guarantee of innovation,” Q finds himself echoing before he’s realized it, and he punishes himself with another sip of his drink. Were Bond here, he’d have quirked his lips into a knowing grin and that smartass twinkle in his eye, just enough to set Q off but nothing terribly abrasive. But Bond is not here, and the private joke does nothing to soothe Q’s rattled nerves.

“Stealing my lines are you now, Q? I’m afraid that won’t work on her, though I can see why she’d be keeping you from finding our target for me. She is terribly easy on the eyes.”

Bond’s voice snaps Q out of his thoughts and he rubs his eyes, realizing Bond must have been speaking to him for ages now and he’d hardly noticed. “I’m sorry?”

“The target,” Bond repeats. “Where is he?”

“I’m looking for him now,” Q replies, focus now detouring to the mobile in his lap, rapidly swiping through security camera feeds before he stops on a wide angle shot of several blackjack tables. Q spots their target seated at the largest table, thankfully in Q’s direct line of sight from the bar. “Aha, found him.”

“A little more specific, Q.”

“Directly across from the bar, about three rows back. And if this woefully shoddy image is anything to go on, he’s playing a losing game. You should have no difficulty in gaining the upper hand.”

“Mm, if that’s the case, I might even have enough time to cash in my winnings and buy a drink for Madame—”

“Focus, 007,” Q reprimands. He tells himself he’s cut Bond off to keep him on track, and not because of the woman. “I will buy the drinks, and you must do your job of winning at playing cards.”

He can hear a soft chuckle on the other end of the comm as Bond enters the line of sight of Q’s video feed. “You should be careful, Q. You know what happens if you buy a pretty girl an expensive drink.”

No, I wouldn’t Q thinks and doesn’t say. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for when I spot someone on the cameras that catches my eye.”

Q watches as the Bond on his phone scans the area for surveillance before looking directly up into the camera Q is controlling, locking eyes with it and winking. Q splutters, nearly dropping his phone, and before Q can hiss out a curse or two Bond has already slipped on his impassive mask for the evening, polished and suave and approaches the tables, waiting for the game to end before sliding into an empty seat directly across from their target. Damn him.

“Is he good at cards?” the woman asks, and Q takes a moment to compose himself before looking up from his lap and pocketing his phone for now.

“Terribly good. If it weren’t for the fact that he always comes back with tenfold what we give him in allowances, my employers would have had his head on a silver platter years ago.”

She laughs as if Q’s little joke is the funniest thing she’s heard in years. “Good. He should easily gain the attention of my employer, then.”

“That does tend to be his modus operandi,” Q replies, more to himself than Bond’s mark.

The woman takes a sip of her drink and sizes Q up for a long moment before speaking again. "So, tell me. How long have you two been involved?"

Q nearly chokes on his drink and it takes him more than a few moments to recover. Several choice words fly through his head in rapid succession, all of which Q is sorely tempted to bite out, though he holds his tongue. It wouldn't do to blow the whole mission over a stray comment. Yes, we've fucked, if that's what you're implying, and I don't believe who I choose to sleep with is any of your bloody business.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The woman smiles at him and regards Q with eyes that almost seem to glint in the muted light of the bar. “You speak to him with such an ease one only finds in a partner. Though, if I may be frank with you, Quentin—”

Oh please, do Q almost spits out, instead choosing to grasp his glass tighter still.

“—I hadn’t guessed he’d brought someone with him. From what I’ve gathered, Mister Bond doesn’t…strike me as one to settle down, you know?”

While her question hardly dignifies a response, Q chooses to give the only one he knows best, in as steady as voice as possible given the circumstances. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am simply his Quartermaster, and nothing more," he says, eventually. His glasses have slipped and Q takes a moment to push them back up, stealing a quick glance at Bond, who seems to be doing very well for himself at the blackjack table. He can hear the faint voice of the dealer, the disgruntled mutterings of Bond’s target, and Bond himself in his right ear, and while normally it would be a comforting distraction Q finds himself on edge, his whole body thrumming with a nervous energy he rarely gets out in the field.

The scent of Bond’s cologne on the woman is overpowering now and Q licks his lips, fighting the urge to excuse himself to the bathroom to splash ice water on his face until the burning heat inside him bleeds out.

His gaze now lingers on Bond's hands as they slide cards across the green velvet of the table, strong, calloused and sure. He remembers those hands on his own body, once, reverently mapping out the planes and dips of his skin before cupping his arse roughly enough to leave bruises that lasted for days. Then, Bond’s hands were still marred with blood that the bathwater hadn’t completely washed away, leaving behind red stains on the pale expanses of Q’s skin, a counterpart to the red lines Q would score down Bond’s back. Hands that coaxed soft, pliant moans from his mouth, words he daren’t utter anywhere else, to anyone else. Q finally swallows hard, realizing he has lingered too long, and he tears his eyes away and turns back to the woman beside him.

Q is not here to stare after Bond, to wonder about his agent and the company he chooses to keep. His task tonight is to look after Bond's mark, and make sure no harm is to come of her, reluctant though he may be. This, and nothing more.

"I see," the woman replies. She regards Q with a strange, pointed look, before returning to her drink. "Though perhaps Mister Bond doesn't think of you that way."

Miraculously, the mission hadn’t gone pear-shaped this time around. Bond had snapped a man’s neck inside his room with very little fanfare, and before casino security could be alerted Q had already erased the incriminating footage with a few swift keystrokes. He was almost disappointed Bond hadn’t gotten to test out the modifications he’d made to the agent’s Walther, though perhaps it was for the best that the weapon was going to make it home in one piece.

“Job well done, 007, I really must commend you this time for managing to not expend a single bullet. Q Branch will be so pleased with your efforts this time ‘round.”

“Cheeky today, aren’t we?” Bond says in turn, and Q can almost imagine the man is smiling on the other end of the comm.

“And the files? While you might have come here just for the thrill of killing a man I still have some ends left to tie up.”

“She’s got them transferring to a thumb drive now,” Bond replies. Q sags a little in relief, knowing their target hadn’t been given the chance to destroy the hard drive. In the end, the distraction of the woman had proved just enough for Bond to slip into the room and make sure that this was where the man would breathe his last. After all, there’s only so much one can do with a drive that’s been ripped out of the chassis of a laptop and been bludgeoned half to death. What would have become months of pulling overtime on data recovery had instantly been narrowed down to days, maybe hours if he was lucky.

“At this rate we might even catch our scheduled flight back to London.”

Q can almost hear the wry smile in Bond’s voice when he replies with a curt, “Why Q, you wound me, you know I’ve taken great care to improve my punctuality issues.”

“Mm, your efforts have been admirable but I’m sure there’s quite a bit of working room on that front.”

“Will you two stop going at it like old biddies and do something with this damn body?!”

The woman’s sudden interjection startles Q into silence, and after a moment’s pause he hears Bond shifting around, grunting as he hoists what Q can only assume to be the target’s dead body off the floor. There’s more shuffling, the sound of a door being slid open, and, oh no he couldn’t possibly—

“007, are you putting that in a closet?”

“Well there’s no bloody other place for it,” Bond huffs, “If you’ve got any better ideas why don’t you come down here and do it yourself?”

“I’d rather not, thank you. After all, I’m only here for tech support.”

Bond swears under his breath and goes back to attempting to shove the body of his target into the small linen closet, and Q tries to ignore the hot tingles racing down his spine at the gruff strain of Bond’s voice under duress.

As agreed upon, Q meets her by the Lucky Seven slot machine. It’s an ostentatious thing, gilded with shiny gold-colored plastic and enough flashing lights and bells to trigger a migraine, but deep enough into the stacks and just perfectly out of range of the three cameras that sweep the room. The woman is there waiting for him when Q arrives. The red dress is back, though not as prim and wrinkle-free as before. Q tries not to think about where the wrinkles came from, or where else the dress has been. Instead, he swallows and holds out his right hand, awaiting the exchange of information.

The woman reaches between her cleavage with slender fingers and pulls out a thumb drive before placing it gently in Q’s palm. “I believe this is rightfully yours now, Quartermaster, as my employer is no longer around to make any use of it.”

Q pockets the drive and gives the woman a curt nod. “Thank you. I trust all the information is there? I’d hate to contact you again. We at MI6 can be very…persistent.”

She nods, clearly unaffected by Q’s veiled threat. “Yes, all you need is on that drive. I cannot promise it is unencrypted, though from what I understand that shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Q knows it’s meant to be a complement but he is done playing nice, done pretending to be Bond’s polite little boffin with the quips and the gadgets and the fancy computer. Now that Q has what he came for and is no longer bound by obligation, Q immediately says the most scathing thing he can think of. “Yes, I assume Bond charms every woman he meets into bed with tales of his Quartermaster’s hacking skills.”

The woman almost smiles at that, though her eyes grow narrow and flinty, a silent warning. “It’s unbecoming to harbor jealousy in the world of espionage, Quentin. Makes you lose your head, get your agents killed.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Q replies with a smirk, and though the woman gives him a knowing look she backs off. What Q doesn’t expect is for her expression to melt into something softer, and she steps closer, capturing his hands in her own and giving them a gentle squeeze. Q instinctively wants to pull away but the woman has captured him in a piercing gaze, one he finds he cannot look away from.

“Please,” she says, “for me. Look after your agent. He has…such lonely eyes, don’t you think?”

…what?

Q’s forehead wrinkles into confusion but the woman has yet to let go, so instead of pressing her further he gives a short nod, and the woman finally releases her grip on his hands. “Though I’ve enjoyed our time together, I’m afraid I must depart now. Please, enjoy your stay in Savona, Quartermaster.”

And with that, the woman in the red dress melts into the crowd and rows of slot machines, and is gone within seconds. Q supposes he could log into the security system at the casino and track her movements, watch her for a good long while and make sure she’s not going to compromise either of them, but he doesn’t. He’s spent the whole of this mission loathing the very air around her, the way she walks and talks and carries herself, but all that pent-up anger ebbs out of Q the moment the woman disappears, walking out of his and Bond’s life forever.

Q considers the woman’s words and wonders, briefly, if there’d ever been a Quartermaster that had lost an agent because of compromised attachments. Then, Q’s mind wanders to how many men and women alike had died because they got too close to Bond, seen things the agent had never meant for them to see, become too deeply embroiled into his life that it had killed them in the end.

Oh, bollocks Q thinks, what have I gotten myself into?

“Q.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder and Q whips around, startled, only to find Bond staring down at him, forehead knit into deep lines of concern.

“007?”

“I’d been calling after you for ages now. Our flight is in two hours, and we’d better get going before M starts thinking we’ve been delayed.”

Right, of course. The flight. Q gives Bond a tired smile and nods, letting out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. “You’ve never been one to give into M’s whingeing, and I doubt you’re going to start now.”

“What were you thinking about, just now?” Bond asks suddenly, turning the entire conversation on its head and bringing Q’s mind to a stuttering halt. “I’ve never seen you that lost in thought before.”

“Oh, just all the hours of my life I’m going to get back, now that I don’t have to restore a banged-up hard drive this time around.

Bond makes an exasperated face. “You still resent me for that, don’t you?”

“All you double-oh agents think Q-Branch are magicians that can wave our hands at hard drives that’ve been beaten with a nightstick and kicked halfway ‘round London and poof, oh there comes that data M wants.”

“That was one bloody time, Q—”

“If you’d just learn to return everything in one piece—”

And just like that, they fall in step together, and it’s almost as if things are back the way they once were, before Q had pulled out the dental floss stitches from Bond’s skin as Bond bled permanent stains onto the floor of Q’s bathroom. It was ironic, Q had thought, that while the blood had washed out of his clothes, and his sheets, and his skin, he could never quite manage to get it up from the tiles, no matter how hard he’d scrubbed until his arms began to feel like overcooked noodles.

He senses Bond knows his answer was a lie, but thankfully Bond lets it go and doesn’t press further. Q doesn’t think he could deal with Bond knowing the truth, not now, not tomorrow, and possibly not ever.

Bond stops in front of the lift and turns to face Q. “I’ll be in my room. You can come collect me when you’ve finished packing.”

Q can’t help the smile that forms across his lips. “Is that a promise, 007?”

“Well,” Bond replies, matching Q’s widening grin, “what do you think?”

And maybe, Q thinks, just maybe, it is.

i also take prompts/requests!

#00q #2 #3 #4 #5 #fic #y'all i swear to god #tfw you're in a fandom for nigh on two years and can barely crack 1.5k for your otp to end all otps #and then you discover a new fandom and you're hardly two weeks in and suddenly you write a goddamn monstrosity of a fic #this has barely been edited i am so so sorry

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darlingalicn · 5 years

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♡ sabrina antoinette grande & cole robert brock.

001 yellow love - citizen

♡ “be mine, shake up my love, yellow night has had enough. be mine, pull me in two, i will mold myself just for you. still i see nothing but yellow love.”

002 2 souls on fire - bebe rexha feat. quavo

♡ “we can go out to the islands on privates, we can drive the latest cars no mileage, we can do whatever you like just be quiet; if you don’t break my heart i’ll let you inside it.”

003 paint it black - andy black

♡ “it’s not too late for two lost souls, we’re not the only ones to lose control but we’re in this together. every time you walk away, i lose the one i need to save. i’ll just paint it black like starting over.”

004 third degree - movements

♡ “you’ve got your hook pretty deep in me like your tongue pushing through your cheek. you pull me in, catch and release, once you’ve had your fix throw me back to bleed. but i wanna keep you, keep you close to me.”

005 drive - halsey

♡ “your laugh echoes down the highway, crawls into my hallow chest, spreads over the emptiness, its bliss. all we do is drive, all we do is think about the feelings that we hide, all we do is drive. and california never felt like home to me, california never felt like home to me until i had you on the open road.”

006 haunting - halsey

♡ “i was as pure as a river but now i think i’m possessed, you put a fever inside me and i been cold since you let. i got a boyfriend now and he’s made of gold, and you’ve got your old mistakes in a bed at home, i’m hoping you could save me now but you break and fold, you’ve got a fire inside but your hearts so cold. i’ve done some things that i can’t speak and i try to wash away but you just won’t leave, so won’t you take a breath and dive in deep cause i came here so you’d come for me. i’m begging you to keep on haunting me.”

007 is there somewhere - halsey

♡ “you were dancing in your tube socks in hotel rooms, flashing those eyes like highway signs. light one up and hand it over, rest your head up on my shoulder, just wanna feel your lips against my skin. white sheets, bright lights, crooked teeth in the nightlife, you told me this is right where it begins. and your lips hang heavy, underneath me. and i promised myself i wouldn’t let you complete me. i’m trying not to let it show that i don’t wanna let this go.”

008 suck it and see - arctic monkeys

♡ “suck it and see, you never know, sit next to me before you go. jigsaw woman with horror movie shoes, be cruel to me cause i’m a fool for you. blue moon girls from once upon a shangri-la, how often i wonder where you are. you’ve got a face that just says “baby i was made to break your heart.”

009 drew barrymore - bryce vine

♡ “ain’t nowhere i would rather be, right between your holidays. coffee on the flinstone, jewelry on the ottoman, baby let me in cause i get way too adamant about it. love the way you shiver, right between my shoulder blades, feel it when you quiver, higher level elevate. you could be the renegade, bonnie to a clyde, harrelson and juliet; legends never die. the tv hasn’t worked in ages, probably got a shorted cable, way too busy fucking on the sofa or the kitchen table.”

010 shadows - childish gambino

♡ “tuesday afternoon, i ain’t got shit to do but fall in love with you.”

011 head to the ground - neck deep

♡ “i hope that you feel the same and i hope we can both adjust to the pace of this. maybe we'll be okay, maybe you'll stop me from digging my own fucking grave. and i hope i don't drag you down cause i'm starting to feel alright thanks to you and i hope this can all work out cause i feel like myself when i'm running my head to the ground.”

012 growing pains - neck deep

♡ “you've had your own mountains to climb and i've got skeletons i hide in the back of my mind where i question myself, i dwell on the past just like everyone else. don't bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, it's not too heavy, i'll break my back so you can feel like someone's on your side. forget the past and all the heartache, the growing pains that keep you awake, i'll sing you to sleep with songs that let you know that we'll be okay.”

013 tear in my heart - twenty one pilots

♡ “sometimes you've got to bleed to know that you're alive and have a soul but it takes someone to come around to show you how.”

014 what a heavenly way to die - troye sivan

♡ “tell each other you're the one while we're laying by the poolside, getting tired from the sun, fading in and out of long nights. there's no limit to your love, east or west we got the north lights. what a heavenly way to die, what a time to be alive because forever is in your eyes but forever ain't half the time i wanna spend with you.”

015 you in january - the wonder years

♡ “another early flight, i ran the dishwasher this morning, i wanted there to be clean plates for you tonight. i've grown used to your perfume, it hangs in the morning light. wake me up before you leave for work and kiss me goodbye. you were the one thing i got right. i'm measuring heartbeats in miles away. you held me together, i used to burst and decay. we got off the airplane, a couple of runaways. i was hoping you'd stay.”

016 criminal - state champs

♡ “so what’s it mean when every dream i have’s about you now? i can’t believe you get to me the way you do somehow, it’s criminal.”

017 slow dancing in the dark - joji

♡ “i dont want a friend, i want my life in two, waiting to get there, waiting for you. when i’m around slow dancin’ in the dark, don’t follow me you’ll end up in my arms.”

018 finding you - kesha

♡ “i know forever don't exist but after this life, i'll find you in the next. so when i say forever, it's the goddamn truth, i'll keep finding you.”

019 vegas - kid ink

♡ “promise not to leave me out, said you know where to find me, this is somethin' we should figure out before we leave the lobby. baby, let's not fight in vegas, face it, i know we’re wasted. sorry if i'm faded but we on vacation and i ain't had no time off in motherfuckin' ages.”

020 likefck - laye

♡ “wantin you is evil when it's hard to have you here, only got you for a minute, i'll have you and your arms wrapped around me for a moment before we wait so long. you take me higher. love me so rich let me pay it right back but baby's far away in his black cadillac and i want him to come home now. love him like fuck but it’s never enough.”

021 milk n honey - laye

♡ “you can be mean, you can be cruel some of the time, love. go out a while, come back in time and ill be fine, love. xause its you always you i adore, you make me feel more. love to fight but it ain't worth the war, cause i love you and you love me more.”

022 someone like you - mac miller

♡ “life move fast but my baby keep it slow, open up your mind start forgetting what you know. shit ain't been the same since you left me here alone, you hurt so good, your loving hurt so good. love me, love me, that fentanyl it numb me, beautiful it get ugly, turn you into a junkie.”

023 numb without you - the maine

♡ “let's get this straight, you are a panic in the blood stream yet you bring me peace. you are a stutter in the heart that beats inside of me. you are my last, you are my first, you kill me for the better, you are the rising tide, you're every fucking thing inside me now. you are the violence in my veins, you are the war inside my brain, you are my glitter and my gloom. i am so numb without you.”

024 be my mistake - the 1975

♡ “so don't wait outside my hotel room just wait till i give you a sign, cause i get lonesome sometimes. save all the jokes you're gonna make while i see how much drink I can take, then be my mistake.“

025 heaven - the neighbourhood

♡ “when i feel like i'm strangled, you treat me like an angel, show me all different angles and i never, ever felt that way. when you leave, i don't wanna try and if you stick with me, i'll be fine. cause your love's rubbing off on me, tell me how'd you get so heavenly? there's something 'bout you baby, there's nothing like that the way you get me high. you got a heart from heaven but you're burning like hell.”

026 scary love - the neighbourhood

♡ “move to the city with me, don't wanna be alone. you're too pretty for me, baby i know. you look better when you first wake up than anybody else i’ve fucked, baby i got good luck with you. i didn't know we'd get so far and it's only the start. baby, you got me worried. your love is scaring me, no one has ever cared for me as much as you do. i need you here.”

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