#The doctor literally just looked at me standing still and checked my weight and height and cleared me for track when I was like 13

[captain-daryn]

The moment when you have some sort of acute pain anywhere in your body, and then Dr Google says you’ve got cancer and have 3 seconds to live

#For context #I’ve had a pain in my lower leg/ankle/foot area on and off the last couple weeks #Today it came back #I have an ace bandage on it bc compression helped last time I was feeling it #I was telling my coworker about it a few weeks ago and he said I should see a doctor #But I did that thing where you’re like “nah it’s okay. It’s not really that bad.” #And of course when I’m in my bed and still in pain my brain catastrophizes and gets me panicking #Other people are allowed to be hurt and go to the doctor #But not me #maybe it’s cuz I was called a hypochondriac as as kid about my pain that makes me embarrassed to go to the doctor #Like I’m wasting their time and my time and my money over something that will probably go away eventually #I have severe flat feet too so that might be contributing to it #I’ve also only ever had one physical in my life and it wasn’t even like a full physical #The doctor literally just looked at me standing still and checked my weight and height and cleared me for track when I was like 13 #I’m tired of being in pain #But my usual pain is like a 3-4 most of the time #Sometimes a 5 when it’s really acute #And it usually goes away #So like should I really waste time and money going to the doctor for it? #I’m also scared they might find something severely wrong with me and ya know what they say: ignorance is bliss #Idk #im rambling now #its been a rough like two weeks now #I’m just trying to keep going #I know my mental health does not help the situation in the slightest but I’m trying to work on it

[slashedthroughtheheart]

Patched up with the doc

'For a request, would it be okay if I asked for Herman taking care of a reader who got injured outside of a trial? I do kind of want it to be an angsty moment at first, but it just turns into fluff and comfort. I don't want smut or anything. Just Herman being a gentleman and showing the reader his affectionate, caring side. They both might not admit it at first, but they really like each other and always wanna be extremely close; Hugs and cuddles.'

This was the prompt, and here's what I went with! Enjoy a bit shorter of a fic featuring our good doctor, Herman Carter, taking care of a slightly belligerent reader!

It was just like any other day. You’d gone to the saloon in Glenvale with a few other survivors to just hang out. You couldn’t remember what you went out onto the upper deck wrapping around the saloon for, but you were cursing yourself for it now.

It was humiliating to be dangling with one leg partway through the broken floorboard. Whatever reason you had for coming out here was not worth it as you tried to pull yourself back up without further hurting yourself.

You weren’t having much luck, low curses leaving you as you prayed no one would come out to check on you. The last thing you needed was any of the other survivors, or entity forbid, any of the killers, to see you in such a pathetic position.

Being clumsy and mucking up a gen or two was bound to happen. Not making it to a pallet in time, no big deal. But something this pitiful was not something you wanted anyone to know about or see. You would never live it down.

You could picture the laughing stock you’d become if people caught wind that you literally fell through the floor and hurt yourself. You fell from greater heights during trials and had no problem rolling through it on the balls of your feet. Hell, there was that place in the Gideon meat plant that was way higher than the saloon and you’d never had trouble with that.

One last growl of frustration left you before a sharp intake of pain left you holding still after you definitely stabbed yourself on part of the broken board.

A barely audible whimper followed not soon after, the splintering wood jabbing at your torn skin. You could feel the blood dripping down your shin from where you had scraped yourself up, and from the fresh stabbing from trying to free yourself.

And just as you were going to try to move a different way, you heard the footsteps make creaks from somewhere behind you.

This was the worst case scenario, you could hear it was someone heavier than any of the survivors that had come with you. There’s no way Feng’s or Meg’s footsteps would be that loud.

Dread filled your heart as you whipped your head around, grimacing as your shift made the wood dig into you again.

And the eyes that landed on you lit up green when they saw the position you were in, awkwardly hunched onto the deck, obvious pain on your face and one leg dangling at just above the knee into the broken hole.

“Here, let me help you, my dear.”

Herman took purposeful steps towards you, intent on helping you free yourself and seeing to your wounds he caught the slightest glimpse of when you shifted in place.

“NO!”

He stopped, shocked at your sudden outburst.

You held an almost trembling hand up, as if that would keep him at bay. And it did, for a moment.

“I-I’m fine. I can do it myself. I don’t need any help, I’ll be fine.”

And as if the universe was amused in your suffering, when you tried to lift yourself once more from the jagged hole, a piece of wood lodged deeper into the beginning of your thigh, causing you to gasp out and almost choke on your pain.

“You don’t seem fine, y/n. Please let me at least assist you in getting out, I insist.” He’d moved forward a few steps, approaching slower, and eyeing the floorboards cautiously now.

You struggled again, throwing the same hand back up as you grit your teeth.

“I said no! I don’t want your help!” The tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes, stinging like you’d just cut up onions. Your nose burned as you held them in. The pain and humiliation leaving you a mortified and stubborn mess.

He hadn’t stopped in his approach, moving to the side and gently touching your arm with his hand, rubbing a small soothing circle on your shoulder.

“While any other time you saying no I would listen, I really must insist. You have injured yourself quite seriously, and are having a difficult time freeing yourself. I’ll get you up and out of that, and then we can head to Lérys and get you cleaned up. You’re sure to have splinters, and those are nearly impossible to remove on ones own, especially at the angle you’ve got them at.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact that you couldn’t even argue further, just holding in the tears and trying desperately not to sniffle and sound even more pitiful than you were sure you looked.

You tried to reason with yourself that at least it was Herman to find you and not someone like Danny or Frank. They would have probably laughed at you and gotten everyone else to come out and point and laugh with them.

You tried not to break down into tears of frustration as Herman moved around to your front, being careful of where he stepped and testing out the weight first before fully committing to the step.

He bent over, taking a moment to observer where the most damage was that he could see, the front of you leg just above the knee.

He simply hummed out in acknowledgment as he saw a rather large sliver of wood having made its home in your thigh, looking rather painful.

“Alright, I’m going to move you back just a bit and then lift you straight up. You might bump into the boards, but I’ll be able to get you up and standing just fine.” His hands moved to under your arms, taking care with his grip so as not to cause you any further discomfort.

At this point, you mutely accepted defeat, simply letting him take the lead as he adjusted you minutely before finally lifting you up, your leg not even brushing against the boards.

You felt even more miserable as you realized just how easily he’d gotten you out versus your own painful struggling that ended up with you hurting yourself more than doing any helping.

Once he had you out of the hole, you’d expected him to set you down on your own feet, but you were not expecting him to only rest you on them for a moment only to lean down to scoop you into his arms, injured leg on the outside.

At your bewildered look, he smiled gently. “Can’t have you walking with your leg like that, and Lérys is a bit of a walk.”

You wanted to protest, but at the same time you were getting your first good look at your leg, and maybe you really should just let him help you patch it up.

You weren’t even sure if Claudette could truly help fixing it up at this point.

So instead of fighting him on it, you nodded numbly, withdrawing into yourself so you wouldn’t give into the urge to start bawling like you’d been struggling with the whole time.

He went down the back steps, avoiding alerting any of the others to your condition, having noted that you were not in the mood to have anyone see you like this. You hadn’t even wanted him to help you, going so far as to try to pull yourself up and hurting yourself further.

No words passed between the two of you as he made his way towards Lérys, avoiding anyone else that you might have gone by with ease.

The relief you felt when he finally crossed the threshold into his realm was visible, pulling a very soft chuckle from him. It was nothing like his usual laughter. This laugh held a gentle mirth in it, a light but non-judgemental amusement.

“Rest assured, y/n. Your dignity is safe with me.” His thumb rubbed a small but soothing circle on the arm it was pressed against as he finally made his way into the building of the hospital, making a beeline for the closest room with the right equipment in it he’d need.

After carefully placing you on the hospital bed inside the room, he immediately went about gather the supplies he would need onto a rolling tray.

It did not take him much time at all to ready everything. There was a bottle of antiseptic, two pairs of tweezers, one big and one small, some gauze, a needle and some suture thread. It seemed you’d be getting stitches today.

At least these would be in a sterile environment with steady hands, unlike the ones you received during trials.

A meek “Thank you.” barely made it past your lips, your gaze staring at the gashes in your shin and the bit of wood protruding from your thigh.

Herman looked up from his readying of items, a soft smile gracing his features.

“It is not a problem, y/n. You were in distress, and I am more than happy to help.” He reached out, patting your uninjured leg for a moment before returning to the task at hand.

At his touch, you felt a warmth blossom in your chest, but you didn’t want to think about that right now. So you instead locked your gaze on your leg as he started meticulously cleaning your wounds and removing all the splinters you’d managed to get.

After the first touch sent near white hot pain through your body, you’d decided it was probably best not to watch so you laid yourself back, staring instead the ceiling as you balled your fists in an attempt to stay as still as possible.

Thankfully, the good doctor was precise in his movements and had you sufficiently patched up in seemingly no time at all. Considering the amount of damage, having to sit still for 20 minutes really hadn’t been that bad.

You let out a shaky breath in response to his question of how you were doing, still trying to hold your tears that had never left you in.

The weight of his palm against your upper arm startled you into opening your eyes and looking up at the now blue eyes of the doctor.

“It is okay, y/n. It’s understandable that this kind of injury is quite painful, especially considering the entity will likely not heal it until your next trial.” There was understanding in his face, a tenderness you’d never seen on him before.

It was foreign, but not unwelcome. You still felt plenty embarrassed by your situation, but the voice inside your head happily reminded you that it could have been worse.

Although, at the gentle press of his hand, the dam that had been holding back your emotions finally burst.

Hot tears trickled out the sides of your eyes to disappear into your hair behind your ears, the sensation feeling strange and only adding to your already frazzled nerves.

You sniffed once, twice, then let out a small but frustrated sounding whimper as your hands came up to rub almost viciously against your eyes.

Why of all times to loose your cool was it in front of a killer? Granted, he’d helped you and had never treated you poorly outside of trials, but this was beyond mortifying.

Your outburst didn’t phase him, knowing that the survivors already had a stressful enough existence with the trials and not having their own places unlike the killers. Living in a makeshift tent with just the campfire to keep the place lit up wasn’t easy for any of them.

He moved his hand to the top of your head, gently running his hand down it a few times, effectively petting your hair while he let you cry it out.

You instinctively turned into the touch, your body curling in on it’s side while you reached out blinding to grab the hem of his shirt while you tried your hardest to cry quietly.

Content with just letting you take your time, he continued the gentle petting of your hair, taking a small step closer so your arm wasn’t so outstretched.

A low hum left him, intent on soothing you in any way he could.

He’d been a bit off put by your almost venomous refusal of his help at first, but looking down at you as you slowly stopped crying, the hiccups starting and seeing you scrub your sleeve at your face to try and wipe away the tears there.

His other hand moved to stop you from rubbing your face anymore, offering you the pocket square he always had one him.

“No need to dirty your clothes when this is here. It is what it was meant for, after all.”

His encouraging smile was enough to have you taking it with no resistance.

And after you’d dried your face and blown your nose, he helped you sit up, hand lingering at your arms for a moment before he tilted his head.

“I know this is rather unorthodox, but would you like a hug? I believe it would benefit you, and to be completely honest, I wished to comfort you so this whole time.” His eyes were a gentle white now, as he waited patiently for your response.

A light blush took over your face, trying not to feel any smaller than you already felt.

Turning your face away before giving a small nod had him smiling at your own bashfulness.

And that’s how the first hug you’d received after coming to the entity’s realm happened. And there was many more to be had with the doctor, as you had been quick to find out.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad accepting help sometimes.

#Herman Carter x reader #Herman Carter #Dead by Daylight fluff #Dead by Daylight #sft #fluff #request #my writing

[kamenriderlogik27]

Kamen Rider headcanons part 1: Saber meets Ex-Aid!

I've been thinking about this for a while. Not sure why my brain chose Ex-Aid though. Just kinda happened. hehe. It took me a lot longer to write than I was hoping 'cause I ended up getting writer's block somewhere near the end, and didn't entirely know how to end it. Not much action either since I can't write action scenes, but hopefully ya'll will like it!

- It was a bright, sunny day with no sign of megido activity. Touma and Mei were traveling to Tokyo due to Touma having a book reading scheduled at Seito University Hospital. Rintaro, intrigued by the idea of finally being able to visit a grand medical institution, decided to tag along under the guise that it'd be better for him to go as backup just in case something happened.

- Upon arrival, the trio run into Ogami and his son, Sora. Who the latter is scheduled an annual check up at the hospital and was following a nurse.

- After hearing about Touma's book reading, Sora begged Ogami to let him stay so he could join them. Ogami gave no hesitation in giving his son permission to stay after his check up. This actually played in Ogami's favor 'cause he had something to do down the street (probably to get bakery sweets for his son and wife or something.) So he asked Rintaro and Mei to help Sora with his check up, and left before hearing their response.

- A bit dumbfounded but not surprised, Mei quickly told Touma to check in at the front so a nurse could escort him to set up, then she and Rintaro both took Sora's hands and followed the (surprisingly patient) nurse to their assigned hospital room.

- On their way to the room, the nurse quickly stopped near a scale, asked Sora to take off his shoes and started taking his height and weight measurements. Mei had to stop Rintaro from taking off his second shoe (he already had the first one off) as he thought that they all had to get their measurements taken.

- As they waited for the doctor to come, Mei and Sora talked and played while Rintaro took his time looking around the room at all the different equipment and posters with fascinated eyes.

- It wasn't long a wait. However, as the doctor opened the door to enter, he accidentally (somehow) tripped and face planted the floor.

- *Que overly shocked and confused Mei face and sounds, and an unimpressed Sora*

- Rintaro was the only one who asked if the doctor was ok and if he needed help. This caused the doctor to inwardly blush in shame a bit.

- The doctor (if you couldn't tell by now) is Hojo Emu, as said by the patient nurse who sighed "Not again, Emu...."

- Sora took a quick liking to doctor Emu as he was really nice and tried to make the check up feel like a game. However, Emu was a bit shocked to say the least when he tried to bond with Sora over video games and Sora said that he likes reading more. (score one for Touma!)

- As the check up went on, Emu ended up having to juggle with doing his job as well as try to answer the many questions that Rintaro had. (i.e. Is that a stethoscope?! How clear are you able to hear a heartbeat with it? May I perhaps try it out myself? Do doctors really keep a jar of tongue depressors at their desk? That's amazing! you can also use a stethoscope to hear a person's breathing pattern? etc.)

- After the check up, Emu told Mei and Rintaro that Sora was in extraordinary health, especially for such a young child. (score one for the best Kamen Rider dad!)

- Since Emu had no more scheduled appointments for the next hour or two, he and nurse Asuna both ended up escorting the three to the book reading. They were also really curious as to who this 'Touma' person was that Sora and Mei talked excitedly about.

- The book reading was held in a wide open area outside in the courtyard, right next to a huge wall made of windows. Touma had brought a total of 10 picture books to read to his audience; which consisted of mainly hospitalized children, and Sora sitting in the front row.

- Emu and nurse Asuna were both, to say the least, really impressed with Touma's reading skills and interactions with the children. To them, it almost seemed as if Touma was truly taking them on a magic carpet ride or journeying through the decade a jungle.

- Emu mumbled something about looking up Touma's books one of these days, which Mei over heard of course, giving her the opportunity of handing him Touma's business card which had the bookstore's phone number and address printed on the back.

- Just as Touma is about to finish his last book, screams are heard coming from nearby and Mei's white book starts glowing. Nurse Asuna is the only one that notices the book however since Emu is already running towards the chaos, Rintaro and Touma hot on his heels. Nurse Asuna has so many questions, but Mei just awkwardly smiles and runs to Sora so they can help the children and other patients back inside.

- Once Emu gets to the source of the screams, he finds a huge, bug-like monster with a book on its chest attacking people with its long, blood-sucking spear. Emu gets confused at what he was looking at since the monster didn't look or seem like a bugster. Before he could observe further, Touma and Rintaro rushed past him, both putting on their drivers and shouting "Henshin!" before swinging out what seemed like swords and transforming.

- although super confused at these two new Riders, Emu decided to wait to ask questions and jumped into action himself by pulling out his gashats and gamedriver, wanting to transform into Kamen Rider Ex-aid level 2. However, upon further observation of the scene, he could see people kneeling/laying on the ground, groaning in agony and pain. He would have to rely on the strange Riders for the moment as Doctor Emu was needed, Genius Gamer M would have to wait.

- the two SOL Riders noticed the Doctor by now, with Rintaro gasping and trying to tell Emu to get away before he gets hurt. This attracted the megido's attention and it quickly brushed off the Rider's swords, jumped high into the air and aimed it's spear at the doctor who was now trying to help a poor old lady to stand up.

- Before it could hit the doctor though, a very large, heavy sword blocked it's path causing the megido to fall back, clutching it's spear-nose in pain. Emu looked at the huge sword in shock, before glancing at the wielder next to to. Which happened to be an untransformed man with a smirk on his face.

- "Ogami-san! Nice save!" Touma yelled with relief.

"Huh? OGAMI???" Emu said to himself, putting the pieces together "Eh??? Sora-kun's FATHER?!" Noticing that the man he saved was a doctor, due to Emu's white coat, Ogami-san understood what was going on and told Emu to keep doing what he was doing. "Don't worry, I've got your back!"

- While Emu depended on Ogami-san to protect him and the patients, the other Rider doctors had came to help. Kiriya was helping anyone that could still walk, Taiga and Nico were attending to those that couldn't, and Hiiro took the chance to look into and see if the bugster virus was related.

- The megido took account of the situation and, seeing as he could continue his job else where, started to fly away. But not before seeing a curious Sora staring right at him and deciding that "one more couldn't hurt." and dove down to the boy. But before it could pierce Sora's skin, a frantic Mei pushed him out of the way, getting pierced by the megido's spear in the process.

- I think ya'll can imagine the way Touma and, especially, Rintaro screamed Mei's name right at the moment. Gives me chills just thinking about it.

- The megido quickly flew away before the riders could reach them. But Rintaro quickly de-henshined and rushed to Mei's side, quickly, but as gently as possible, picking her up in his arms and checking to see if she was alright. On the outside she seemed fine, there wasn't even an open wound, but then an electric-like ripple coursed through her body and she gasped in pain. Hiiro was at their sides in an instant, using his Game Scope to assess the situation.

- Emu, who was checking to see if Sora was alright, quickly squatted next to Hiiro and furrowed his brows at the screen. there was a new type of Bugster running through Mei's body. In fact, everyone that was attacked by the megido had been infected.

- They took Mei back to the hospital (Rintaro carrying her with the excuse that it'd be faster for him to do it, when in fact he just didn't want anyone else to carry her.) and set her down in the Ex-aid HQ center (I know it's officially called something else, but I'm tired and have no time to look it up at the moment.)

- Now Emu's a bit overwhelmed 'cause there's a very sick Mei, 2 very worried riders asking questions, another rider who's also a bit worried but is also trying to calm his heart down after getting the scare of his life when Poppy suddenly costume changed next to him without warning, and everyone is just super confused about what the monster is. He literally has to yell "shut up!!!" for the room to quiet down enough so he can add "How about we just take turns asking questions, yeah?"

- and that's what they do, Emu starts by asking Touma and Rintaro what the monster is. So Rintaro quickly explains the SOL organization, swordsmen and the megido. Then Rintaro asks Emu what's happening to Mei and if she'll be ok. Emu, along with the other doctor Riders, started explaining Bugsters and the Game Disease. Emu explained that since they've been battling the virus for years now, and have advanced the treatment extraordinarily well that Emu is confident that they'll be able to heal Mei.

- Even though still worried, Rintaro and Touma visibly relax, the latter starting to think about the megido. He had a suspicion of what the megido could be and wanted to go back to the bookstore to check. Knowing it'd be a long drive back however, Ogami quickly pulled out his book-gate WRB and created a doorway that links the hospital to the Northern Base. Touma and Rintaro head through it without a second thought, shocking the doctor Riders.

- At the Northern Base, the duo find Daishinji who's been trying to track the megido for some time now. As they talk, Daishinji cuts off what he's saying halfway and adverts his eyes due to the doctor Riders suddenly appearing.

- Turns out that Parado had come back after playing games with some of the children in the hospital, saw the doctor Riders staring at a door that he'd never seen before. curious, he opened the door (despite Ogami yelling and Emu trying to stop him) which resulted in him and Emu getting sucked into the vortex-like path between the destinations. The other riders too as they either tried to save the duo or they got pulled in by others *cough!* Kiriya *cough!* trying to save themselves.

- The doctor Riders suddenly finding themselves to be in a library of sorts makes them shocked to say the least.

- By the time Ogami catches up, Rintaro is busy explaining that they're now at the North Pole while Touma has gone off back to his bookstore to look for a specific book.

- Emu had followed after Touma and was amazed by how homey and comfortable the bookstore felt and looked.

- As Emu looked around the bookstore (low-key spazzing about how cool the diorama was), Touma rummaged through a pile of books until he came across a book on insects. He skims through it and confirms that the bug-like megido is a mosquito, which is known to spread viruses like wildfire. Excited, the two go back and inform the others at the Northern Base of what they found.

- Everyone then spends the night doing what they can to help. Ogami found and dragged Ren out to help him look for the megido with Kiriya and Parado offering to help. Parado's involvement caused Nico to see this as a game, so she forced Taiga to help search as well. Hiiro went back to his other patients, checking in every now and then to see if the Bugster in Mei had grown.

- Touma and Rintaro also thought about searching, but then Emu and Poppy mentioned how the Bugster Virus reacts and grows via stress. What stresses Mei the most is 1. Touma not finishing his drafts on time and 2. not seeing her friends. So they decided to stay by her side with Rintaro watching over her, and Touma taking up the nearby desk so he can work on drafts for the next two+ months.

- Seeing Mei so pale and frail broke Rintaro's heart. She looked like a different person entirely, as if her warm smile had been stolen. Somewhat tired and worry clouding his mind, he started speaking his thoughts out loud, so loud that Touma could hear.

- "Why can't I do anything?" "What if we can't defeat the megido?" "What if we DO defeat the megido but can't defeat the virus?"

- Touma has to firmly tell Rintaro that they will save Mei, no matter what. He's so adamant about it that he ends up promising Rintaro that they'll both defeat both the Bugster and the megido.

- Emu, who was observing them from afar, takes note of their promise before heading up to the main office of the ward. There, a new face, Kento, is standing next to the window and gazing down at the trio.

- Alarmed, Emu asks who Kento is and how he got in. But Kento doesn't reply, and instead mentions how this wasn't supposed to happen, that this wasn't something he foresaw. He looks back at Emu before opening a black portal and disappearing through it.

- Sometime during the night, Hiiro checks in on Mei, and has a chat with Rintaro about her. He warns the swordsman about waiting and not taking action before leaving him to his thoughts.

- The next morning, Emu finds Touma and Rintaro both asleep. The latter hunched over the desk full of written drafts and the former upright in a chair with his hand clenching Mei's. Poppy, who had came in right behind him, loudly gasped in delight at the cute scene, causing the two Riders to wake up in alarm. Touma ended up falling from his chair while Rintaro awkwardly jumped with embarrassment after realizing he was holding Mei's hand, especially so tightly.

- Emu checks Mei's temperature and vitals. When she wakes up, he asks her how she feels which she groggily explains that she feels way better than when she was turned into the cat megido. Turns out that the boys staying with her and seeing that Touma got a lot of work done really did help in de-stressing her.

- Just then, they get a call from Ogami, informing them that the megido has been spotted. Quickly reassuring Mei that they'll defeat the Megido, the two left to aid Ogami.

-Them leaving however, caused Mei to grow worried and stressed. Resulting in the Bugster Virus inside of her to grow and finally form outside of her body. The form that the Bugster took, was of her Megido monster form, the cat megido. Which slashed at Emu and Poppy before fleeing from the hospital.

- Emu and the other doctor Riders chased after it, bumping into the SOL Riders on the way. This results in them fighting together AND having the SOL Riders react to seeing the doctor Riders transform for the first time.

- "eh?! you guys are Kamen Riders too?!" "What?! B-but! I thought that only SOL swordsmen can be called 'Kamen Riders'?! I have to ask Sophia-sama about this..." "Oi.... What's with the cartoon eyes...? and... is that HAIR?"

- They also run into more bugsters as well, so they break up into teams to fight them off. Touma and Emu vs the megido, Rintaro and Hiiro vs the cat megido bugster, Kiriya and Ogami vs. a megido bugster, and Taiga and Nico vs. another megido bugster and Ren and Parado vs Bugster mooks.

- After defeating them all, the one behind this mess reveals himself; Dan Kuroto with one of Zoous's Alter Ride Books. (possibly given to him by Storious)

-This leads to another huge battle between Kuroto (who fused with the alter ride book) and the Riders (plus Kento who'd been watching the whole thing), which ends with Kuroto being defeated and disappearing, and Mei with everyone else that caught the megido bugster virus to be fully cured.

- Mei reunites with Touma and Rintaro at the hospital, which Rintaro smiling to himself. (He now fully realizes his feelings for Mei and is planning on confessing soon.)

-Later on, Emu, Poppy and the other doctor Riders visit the Kamiyama bookstore, which results in an amusing event.

#kamen rider #kamen rider saber #kamen rider ex aid #crossover #i tried my best #i still want to try and write a real fanfic about this #head canons

[bittysvalentines]

Gravity Can Forget

From: @the-lincyclopedia

To: @loveyoutoobits

Summary: Jack takes such good care of Eric after Eric's concussion that Eric can't help but develop feelings. Too bad Jack is straight . . . right? 

Rating: T

Tags: Concussions, Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Year 1 (Check Please!), Getting Together, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense

“Bittle. I’ve got your back.” 

The words echo around Eric’s head as his ears ring. The crowd seems to be making noise—a lot of noise, actually, enough to worsen his headache—but their roar is competing with the ringing in his ears and the ghost of Jack’s words. It’s a lot of sound to take in, and Eric shuts his eyes as if eliminating input to one sense will make it easier to handle the overwhelming input to another. He’s not sure how he wound up laying on the ice; the last thing he remembers is Jack talking to him on their way out of the huddle. 

The next thing he knows, there’s a hand on his shoulder. He can feel its weight through his pads, but it’s not shaking him; it’s just resting there. 

“Bitty,” he hears. It’s Jack’s voice. “Bits, are you conscious? Wake up for me, please.” 

“’M awake,” Eric mumbles.

“Merci à Dieu,” breathes Jack. “Can you open your eyes, bud?” 

Eric groans but opens his eyes. There are stars in his field of vision. He blinks several times, but they don’t go away. He’s dizzy. 

Two pairs of feet—wearing shoes, not skates—stomp-shuffle into view. The legs they’re attached to bend, and then Hall and Murray’s faces enter Eric’s field of vision. “Come on, Bittle,” says Hall. He slides his hands under Eric’s armpits and pulls Eric upright. “Can you skate?”

Eric considers the question. It feels like his brain is working more slowly than usual. “Maybe?”

Hall puts his arms around Eric in a sort of side-hug, and Murray adds a hand against Eric’s back, and the three of them make their slow, halting way off the ice. There seems to be . . . clapping? Eric isn’t sure what’s happening until he hears his name: Bitt-le, Bitt-le, Bitt-le. He’s surprised. He knows his name is on the back of his jersey, but he’s just a frog. Nobody really knows who is—right? 

Lardo gives him a shaky smile when he makes it to the bench. “You okay, dude?”

Eric starts to shake his head and immediately regrets it. So much nausea. “Not great,” he mumbles. 

She reaches out a hand as if to clap him on the shoulder and then seems to think better of it. “You did great. Proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” Eric mumbles.

“Larissa, can you take him to urgent care?” Hall asks. Murray’s hand is no longer on Eric’s back, and Murray himself isn’t in Eric’s field of vision. When did he leave? “I’ll come as soon as the game is over—you’ll probably still be in the waiting room. He’s conscious, so it’s probably fine for him not to go to the emergency room, but we should get him checked out tonight. Someone will need to stay with him all night if he has a concussion, but we can figure that out later.” 

“All right,” says Lardo. She stands and maneuvers Eric’s arm over her shoulder. “Let’s go, Bitty.” 

Lardo helps Eric to the locker room and oversees him taking off his skates and pads. She grabs his bag out of his cubby and makes sure his wallet is there, with his insurance card in it, before they leave the arena. Eric gets the most carsick he’s been in ages on the drive to the hospital, but he manages to avoid actually throwing up until they’re in the parking lot. Lardo, to her credit, just rubs Eric’s back as he hurls and then helps him walk around the puddle and into the building. 

After Lardo helps Eric check in, the two of them sit down and Lardo takes out her phone. “Well, we won,” she says. 

“Huh?” Eric asks. 

“Samwell won the game. It’s over already. Jack says he and Hall are going to head to the hospital soon.” 

“Oh. Good,” says Eric. He’s vaguely aware that ordinarily he’d be tweeting right now, but the prospect just seems overwhelming, so he stares at the wall instead. 

He’s not sure how long it’s been when Hall and Jack show up. Hall takes a seat on Lardo’s other side and begins asking her quiet questions, but Jack crouches down in front of Eric and says, “Bits, I’m so sorry.”

Eric isn’t sure what Jack’s apologizing for. The only word he manages to form is, “What?”

“The play was dangerous. All I was thinking about was winning, and I put you at risk for that.” 

“Jack, we play hockey.” 

“Yeah, but that guy boarded Holster. You were so brave, but I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Eric Bittle?” a nurse calls. 

Eric stands and then lurches forward. Jack catches him and throws one of Eric’s arms over his shoulder, which doesn’t work very well given the height difference, and then Eric, Jack, Lardo, and Hall make their way back to a doctor’s office, with Jack half-carrying Eric. 

The doctor asks Eric a number of questions, about both his symptoms and the world at large—he’s dizzy and nauseous, but at least he knows Obama’s the president—and then tests to see whether Eric has double vision (he does) and can walk on his own (kind of). In the end, Eric gets diagnosed with a mild concussion, which makes him wonder what sort of symptoms are required for a serious one. The doctor says he should ask for extensions on all his assignments and do less schoolwork for the next few weeks at least, as well as avoiding exercise and screen time. The doctor also says that someone needs to wake him up every hour that night to make sure he’s still conscious and lucid. 

Hall asks if Eric thinks his roommate would be willing to wake him up all night, but, before Eric can even wrap his head around the question, Jack says, “Don’t worry about that. I’ll do it.” 

“What?” Eric asks. 

“You can stay at the Haus tonight. You can take my bed and I’ll take the floor. I’ll wake you up every hour.” 

“But why?” Eric feels so confused. 

Jack looks pained. “Because it’s my fault you’re hurt. Let me take care of you, all right?”

Eric feels like he should argue, but he also feels like he might throw up, so he decides to just say, “Okay.” Hall and Lardo are looking between him and Jack, and Eric can’t read their expressions, but he’s too tired to care. 

Jack supports/carries Eric out of the hospital and back to Lardo’s car, and then the three of them drive back to the Haus. Eric winds up borrowing one of Jack’s T-shirts and some of Lardo’s sweatpants to sleep in (Lardo makes a “never thought you’d get in my pants” joke that Eric ignores), and he wipes his top half down with a washcloth rather than showering, since he’s still pretty unsteady on his feet. He brushes his teeth by putting some of Jack’s toothpaste on his finger, and he doesn’t bother washing his face or even looking for floss. He’s exhausted and he feels awful. All he wants is to faceplant on Jack’s bed. 

Still, he’s a Southern gentlemen. He has to ask. “You sure it’s all right if I take your bed? I feel bad about kicking you out.” 

“Bits. You literally have a traumatic brain injury because I made a bad decision. You have every right to take my bed. Just try not to hate me when I wake you up all the time, all right? I want to let you sleep, but your safety matters more.” 

“Of course, Jack,” says Eric, and then he crawls gingerly into the bed, because he has a feeling faceplanting would worsen his headache. 

(He kind of hates Jack when Jack wakes him up every hour all night, but he manages not to say anything about it, though that has more to do with talking being difficult than with Eric being tactful.)

Luckily, the next day is a Sunday, so Eric doesn’t have any obligations. He stays in Jack’s bed all day—he’s allowed real naps, without the hourly wakeup, after eight a.m.—and Jack brings him food periodically and keeps the blinds shut. When it’s dinner time, Jack orders them both takeout and they both sit cross-legged on Jack’s bed to eat it. 

“Do you want me to email your professors and tell them you won’t be in class for a few days?” Jack asks. 

Eric groans. “I’m already kind of behind in my classes.” 

There’s a pause when Eric suspects Jack might be restraining himself from saying something unkind. Then Jack says, “Do you think you can handle class tomorrow?”

Eric finishes chewing his bite and says, “Ugh. No.” 

“Okay then,” says Jack. “I’ll email your professors. I can get your schedule from Lardo.” 

“Thanks,” says Eric. 

They don’t talk much for the rest of the meal. After Jack cleans up their trash, he offers to walk Eric back to his dorm, and Eric agrees. Eric is steadier on his feet now, which is good, but Jack keeps an arm around him anyway. Eric tries to ignore the warmth that spreads through him from the points of contact. Jack is straight, and he’s just doing this out of a sense of duty and guilt. 

The next few weeks are hard. Eric spends three more days in bed before venturing to class, and then he finds his focus is worse than ever, which is saying something—his ability to pay attention has always been so bad that he hadn’t realized it was possible for it to get worse. Reading is also hard, and screens give him terrible headaches so quickly that he can’t deal with his email or typing up his papers at all. He spends his whole printing budget (and then Ransom and Holster’s printing budgets, once his runs out) printing out the scanned readings that his professors have put up on their class websites. He starts writing papers by hand and Shitty types them up, since Shitty turns out to be the only one on the team who can read Eric’s handwriting. His professors are being okay about giving him extensions, and the team is being wonderfully supportive, but he still feels like he’s limping to the finish line of this semester, and his grades are not going to be what he’d hoped. 

On top of all of Eric’s academic and concussion-related problems, the team loses their next game, knocking them out of the playoffs. After the loss—which Eric half-watches on the Haus TV, because there’s no way he’d be able to handle the noise level in the arena—Shitty texts the group chat comprising the team minus Jack (the group chat normally reserved for inappropriate jokes and planning kegsters) and tells everyone sternly that they are to leave Jack alone until Jack comes to them, and that he, Shitty, will be checking on Jack and there’s no need to double up because that’ll only make Jack annoyed. 

Which is why Eric is so surprised that Jack keeps checking on him daily after the loss. It was also a surprise right after Eric got concussed, because the team was training feverishly for the next round of the playoffs, but it’s even more of a surprise the day after the team gets knocked out of the playoffs, because Eric has seen how hard Jack takes regular-season losses, and this was the last game of the season. 

But, in spite of Eric’s expectations, Jack keeps sending How are you texts, keeps dropping by Eric’s dorm with food or medicine, keeps inviting Eric to the Haus. Eric’s stomach flips a little every time it happens, and eventually he can’t put it down to concussion-induced nausea anymore. It’s so inconvenient that he has a crush on Jack, his straight, hockey-robot captain, but that’s undoubtedly what’s happening. 

The poll for the hockey awards and for next year’s captain hits Eric’s email a couple weeks after the concussion, and Eric forces himself to deal with the screen time in order to vote. He reads the descriptions of the awards—the Carlisle Award mentions “enthusiasm,” which SMH is basically drowning in, but ultimately Eric votes for Shitty—and of course he votes for Jack for captain. The team comes first and last for Jack, and Eric is positive that, without Jack’s help with checking, he wouldn’t still be on the team—he probably wouldn’t even still be at Samwell. And that’s not even mentioning Jack taking care of him these past two weeks. 

The banquet is a week later. Eric is shocked when he receives the Carlisle Award but not at all surprised when Jack is unanimously voted captain. Jack seems surprised, though. After the banquet, he catches Eric on the way out and says, “Hey, Bits, can I talk to you about something?”

Eric keeps glancing at Jack while the rest of the team files out of the clubhouse, but Jack doesn’t say anything more to him while the other guys leave. At last, everyone else is gone, and Jack says, “Would you mind walking with me?”

“Sure,” says Eric. He’s got a baseball cap with him that doesn’t work at all with his suit, but direct sunlight still hurts enough that Eric’s willing to let his style drop a bit. He puts the cap on as the two of them step outside. 

“I, um, I wanted to thank you for voting for me,” says Jack. “I know I haven’t always treated you well—I haven’t treated you the way a captain should—and just when you started trusting me I let you down. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, for both of those things, and I feel like I don’t deserve your vote, but I’m, uh, really grateful that you voted for me anyway.” 

Eric puts a hand on Jack’s arm. “Of course I voted for you, Jack,” says Eric. “You’re a great player, but you’re also a great friend. I probably wouldn’t have been able to stay on the team without your help with checking, and you’ve been so good to me these past few weeks as I’ve been dealing with the concussion.” 

“You skipped some details,” says Jack, “but, if that’s how you want to remember it, that’s okay with me.” 

They haven’t walked very far yet, and Eric’s wondering if all the fanfare was for this. “Is that what you wanted to say to me? That you’re glad I voted for you?”

Jack runs a hand through his hair. “No. I mean, kind of, I guess? I definitely wanted to say it. But there’s another thing I wanted to say too. Well, two other things.” He clears his throat. “So, um, first of all, I’m bisexual.” 

Eric squeaks in surprise. “You—really? Oh wow, Jack! That’s great! I mean, not that you wouldn’t be great if you were straight. Just—thank you for telling me!” 

Jack chuckles a little. “You’re welcome. Um. Now the hard part. And I know there’s like a 99% chance that the answer’s going to be no, and I want you to feel free to say that. Like, this is me speaking as your friend, not your captain. Everything’s going to be fine if you say no, with the team and with me personally. Shitty knows I’m doing this, and he’s going to check in with me in like an hour, and he’s really good at cheering me up. So just say whatever you want to say.” 

Eric doesn’t know what this is about. He knows what he’d like it to be about, but that would be delusional, right? “Jack. What is it?” 

“I, um, I wanted to ask you out? And I know it’s rotten timing because the school year is almost over and we’re going to be in separate places over the summer, and, again, you can absolutely say no and everything will be fine, but Shitty gave me a pep talk and told me to go for it, and—”

Eric, who’s been feeling like a balloon has been expanding inside of him, suddenly deflates. “Shitty put you up to this?”

Jack stops walking. “What? No, Bits, no no no! I’m asking because I want to ask. I just wouldn’t have had the courage to do it if Shitty hadn’t talked to me about it.” 

“Oh,” says Eric. 

“You can say no, Bits—it really will be fine—”

“You silly boy,” says Eric gently. “Of course I’m saying yes.” 

“What—you—really?” Jack gabs. 

“Yeah,” says Eric. “Really.” 

“Do you want to go back to the Haus?” Jack asks. “My room locks—I mean, not that we have to do anything—but we could get a bit of privacy if you want it. Or just hang out with the guys. Whatever you want.” 

“Jack,” says Bitty. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks. A room that locks sounds great.” 

Eric has never seen a smile this big on Jack’s face.

#bittyjack #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

[exosmutfactory]

Dark Horse-Chapter One

All I know is that one day my boyfriend and lifelong best friend disappeared. No word of him from anyone. No trace of him anywhere. And after 6 agonizing months, they concluded that he is dead. So why the fuxk do I seeing him strolling around town at 3am?

[ warning: blood ]

Prologue | Part 1 ✓ | Part 2 |

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

First Encounters

Somewhere in a deep dark place, a siren blares. The noise ringing the same tune over and over again as wispy whispers from all around fill the air. If one happened to look close enough, they’d see figures shifting in the darkness. Rising to their full heights as the siren coaxes them forward like a flute to a python.

Suddenly, the music stops. Dark red neon lights brightening up the area as the six figures freeze...before their eyes snap open. The colors in all of their eyes vary from electric blue to copper brown. But one—only one—has yet to open their eyes.

While the others survey their surroundings, the last one’s eyes pop open. Emerald green eyes blinking as they step forward before turning a blood-red color; their iris shrinking down to a pupil as black fills in the rest.

“Plëasë støp ït nøw.”

////

“Hello Cherry.”

I can’t help being aware of the aged, ticking grandfather clock across the room. Something about it has always been eerie. The way the dial constantly swings from side to side; skipping by half seconds when it thinks you won’t notice. I always do. It is just the same as Dr. Kim’s watch. Always 6 minutes ahead of schedule. Forever going at the pace of its own time. You can tell a lot about a man by how he manages his time. And as that clock isn’t an ordinary object, Dr. Kim is not a simple man.

Fidgeting in my seat, I play with a spare ponytail holder; curling the band between my fingers, “Hello Doctor.”

He smiles and leans back; vibrant red hair fluttering from the motion as he crosses his legs. A notepad clutched in his left hand as he clicks a pen open with the other, “How are you feeling today?”

Wordlessly parting my lips, I hesitate for a second; something he picks up on, “I...had a nightmare.” I share.

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise; pen pressed to the paper, “Tell me about it.”

“I was walking. And it was dark,” My eyes drift to the ceiling as his pen moves, “I have gotten off of work late and had to walk home with my groceries… The moon was full and bright, but then I heard an awful noise-”

Strangely, Dr. Kim interrupts, “What kind of noise?”

Dragging my eyes back to him, I take in his leaning forward, subtly rigid form; the pen not even pressed to his paper. “A thud,” I open my palms, keeping them where he can see as I look him directly in the eye, “From an alley.” Letting a few moments go by, I utter, “Then a black cat carrying a dead mouse crossed my path.” I tilt my head, smiling a little, “You know how superstitious I can be.”

The Doctor relaxes, “Yes.” He clears his throat, pen scribbling at a brisk pace, “We all can.” I can’t help eyeing his eyebrows as he leans forward to grab something; there’s a smudge of blue outlining it. In the form of a high arch—a devil’s brow, as I like to describe it. Strange for an old-fashioned man who once didn’t even know what eyeliner was...

“Anything else you want to share?” He adds softly; expression tentative and caring-his eyes telling a different story.

I smile, looking him dead in the eye as if nothing is wrong, “No sir. Sorry for taking your time today.”

“It’s no problem,” He says with a wave of his hand as I stand up. “You are a beloved visitor here-Oh.” He pauses; checking his clipboard before meeting my eyes again, “Don’t forget to pick up your prescriptions downstairs.”

The smile on my lips grows as I shove down my emotions, “Thank you.”

I release a huge breath once I’ve exited the building; taking a wary glance back. There’s just something about the place and my doctor that has always left a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe it’s my past. Or how Kim Junmyeon’s smiles used to be genuine, and his eyes pure. But now they’re just filled with-

With a shiver, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing away my nightmare.

Tightening my grip on the hefty plastic bag in my hand, I begin the long journey to the only grocery store in town. Might as well grab what I can while I still have time.

The traffic inside is horrific as always. People near shoving each other to get at the 50% off items as I carefully balance the carton of eggs in my basket.

“Watch it.” An older woman hisses, graying curls bouncing in distaste as she slams into my side with a grocery cart.

I quietly step close to the end of a shelf while tentatively rubbing my throbbing side; taking deep breaths until the pain goes away.

“Should I get the manager?”

I flinch back, spinning around with wide eyes, “Oh.” My shoulders relax, “Sehun, it’s you.”

The tall raven nods; eyes filled with concern, “Are you okay?”

A smile naturally forms on my face, “I’m fine.” I soothe patting his arm, “Although, mind helping me reach that can on the top shelf?”

Sehun sends me a playful look with a boyish grin but says nothing, grabbing the can with ease before handing it to me. “Let me know if you need anything.”

I smile even more at him; waving as he turns the corner and chuckles when he accidentally bumps into a shelf full of napkins. What a sweet kid.

Grabbing everything else I need that is delicate, I carefully make my way to the checkout. Just my luck that I accidentally bump into someone.

“Oh I’m so sorr-” I gasp turning to them; stiffening when my eyes meet empty green ones. It’s him. My eyes quickly drop down to his neck; curiosity flaring up at the two lone white braids laying across his collarbones until I feel the burn of his steady glare. I let a meek, “I-I’m sorry I’ll just get going-” My breath catches when I spot his hand moving out the corner of my peripheral vision.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly holds up a packet of raw pork. I look at the item then back at him with a raised brow; shrinking under his cold stare. Sensing what I think he is trying to convey, I carefully reach out for it. My cold hand accidentally brushes against his piping hot one.

“Fuck.” I hiss clutching my throbbing hand to my chest. The packet drops to the floor with a dull thud compared to the one caused by Baëkhyun’s sudden movements. I literally stop breathing when he slams his hand to the shelf right next to my head; leaning back as he inches closer. His expression is full of menace and annoyance.

My gaze shifts down to his chest as he crowds my space; body tensing up as memories of the other day come back to the surface. I squeeze my eyes shut, tightening my grip on my basket. An intense wave of nausea washes over me as his breath fans over my face; the hairs on the back of my neck standing. My whole body shaking when his lips brush against my ear...

He chuckles.

He fucking chuckles and the minty breath it leaves in its wake confuses me to the core.

After a few seconds of silence, I peel open my eyes; blinking at my surroundings. Looking from left to right, the man and packet of pork are nowhere to be seen. My shoulders relax with a shaky breath. God...what was that? I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Spotting my basket a couple of feet away, I quickly move to pick it up; checking on all the groceries. Luckily everything seems to still be intact.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I make my way to the checkout; deep in thought as the ever-considerate Sehun scans my items with care. I send him one last smile before heading out; a bigger weight than the bags hanging from my arms hovering over my chest. The long walk home is spent weaving through packed crowds and looking over my shoulder every 5 seconds. Not a head of white hair in sight.

♦•—•♦•—•♦•—•♦•—•♦

“Cherry!” A warm voice greets just as I cross over the threshold; feeling comfort at the chime of a familiar bell and the fragrance of freshly baked bread in the air.

I look up into the beaming, powered-smudged face of a petite brunette stationed behind the counter, “Good afternoon Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s Mama Lee to you!” She declares as I move to the backroom to hang up my coat. “I’ve been reminding you every day you’ve worked here and you still forget.”

“I’m forever grateful for you taking me in, Miss,” I say with a bit more warmth in my voice, smiling. “Working here has been the best 4 months of my-”

“Oh no need to butter me up,” She shakes her head with a smile of her own; softly patting my arm. “Thank you for applying. You are still my longest worker up to date…” A frown that can only mean nothing but trouble forms on her face.

“Everything okay?” I asked tentatively.

Mrs. Lee sighs in resign. “Not really.” She turns her apologetic eyes onto me, “Nora called in sick and Naeun came by to inform me that she won’t be working here,” She paused, “Ever again.”

A small smile forms on my face, “I’ll manage everything, it’s no biggie.” Not like I haven’t done it before. The smile nearly fades when she shakes her head; a remorseful expression on her face, “Mr. Park wants his annually order done by tonight.”

I can feel the color draining from my face. Mr. Park is a renowned lawyer famous for his yearly gathering of business partners from all over the country. The food they require is a lot and it takes 4 sets of hands to complete the order in a week. But with me gone the past five days and the other girls unavailable…

Meeting Mrs. Lee's eye, I tie up my hair, wash my hands and grab the nearest apron; voice full of irreversible determination, “Let’s get this done.”

Just as I figured, we aren’t done until well into the night. The clock at the front of the bakery blaring a red 2:06 am.

“I’m so sorry.”

I look up at a frowning Mrs. Lee; looking so remorseful that I immediately shake my head. “It’s okay, Miss. In fact,” Grinning good-naturedly I added, “I think I’ve earned my keep for a five-day absence.”

“You don’t have to earn anything.” She sighs as I sweep leftover bread crumbs from the floor, “If you need a breather, take a breather. Heck, have a vacation. Go out and do whatever the young people are up to these days.”

I can't help the chuckle rumbling my chest. “People are up to some questionable things these days.”

“Now I don’t mean drugs and unsafe partying.” The way my cheeks warm at that last bit. “But you need to experience life too.” Her brown caring orbs turn back onto me before she steps closer; taking my hands in hers. “I don’t want you having any regrets as I do.”

A genuine smile forms on my face as I chuckle, looking down at the spotless floor. “I’ll try my best.”

“Good.” She walks away then pauses turning back around, “Don’t be quick to make me a grandmother though. I’m still too young.”

All I can do is squeak in indignation which makes her laugh loudly in turn. I turn away to hide my red face; focusing entirely on checking if I missed any spots around the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” She asks softly. “I could ask my nephew, or call you a cab.”

A small smile forms on my lips, “No thank you.” My gaze shifts back to her, “I’ll be okay Miss Lee.”

She crosses her arms, “Promise to text once you get home?” When I nod in reply, she looks at me for a minute then sighs. “Okay.”

Shooting her another reassuring smile, I move to put on my coat, but not to button it up which seems to make her frown. “I don’t want to get too hot,” I'm quick to explain. “Plus, it’s hard to move around when all bundled up.”

“If you catch even the slightest cold I’m excusing you from work with pay for a week.” She states; trying to be threatening in her own way.

I giggle a little as she shakes her head. “Yes, ma’am.” With a cheeky salute, I exit the warm bakery. The hairs on the back of my exposed neck rise, and it’s not merely from the cold. No, it’s the icy stare set on the center of my back that I ignore as I shove my hands into my pockets; venturing back to the store that is now merely a 10-minute walk.

Gathering just a small amount of items, I take off for my apartment. Humming nonchalantly as my bag rustles and footsteps echo down the deserted streets. Everyone who values their life never comes out after dark anymore. For the ones who like to party they either spend the night at a friend’s house or inform the club days in advance to accommodate them. And if you are the husband of a pregnant demanding wife you have to suck up the nagging and set out to keep the kitchen in stock come the next sunrise.

Suddenly, the wind blows. But there’s something off about it. The wind is air; it is supposed to fly past you with no way to truly feel it. Fully grasp it. Yet this wind feels like a caress of a hand over the back of my neck. Soothing. The kind of touch that makes you let your guard down.

Ha, I wasn’t born a mere 19 years ago.

Lifting my eyes to the sky, I take in the sight of the full moon with another planet lurking in its shadow. Its colors so dark that anyone would jokingly call it the “dark side of the moon.” If it is the dark side, how are you able to see it at all? Would you be able to see the strong surge of radiation coming off of it in waves? Or feel the damage of its water supply and wreckage of ecosystems? Or the fact that “the shadow” is 4 times bigger than the moon itself?

Once I hear that telling muffled scream; I run.

A whooshing noise slices through the air before my bag is 10 times lighter. I let the rest of it fall from my hand; jumping up to avoid a hit directed at the back of my knees.

He’s fast. As I land back on my feet and quickly roll forward to avoid another swing, I make sure to stay in tune with my surroundings. Damn fast.

Leaping back to my feet, I begin winding down street after street. The only things I hear are the pounding of my feet to the pavement and my desperate pants for breath. I seriously need to work out more.

I take towards an alleyway in hopes of losing him only to meet a dead end. But this just might work even better.

“Dønë bëing chasëd, lïttlë møusë?”

The rhythmic click of heeled boots is quite alluring. Or maybe it’s just him. And I hate him even more for it.

“Why døn’t wë gët this øvër wïth, hmm?” I keep my back towards him even as he brushes my hair off one shoulder; tracing his fingers over the side of my neck. “I’ll makë ït païnlëss før thë nïcë chasë yøu gavë.”

My heart involuntarily races at his deep and raspy voice. The seductive purr added to the end of every word he utters. Until I have to hold my breath from the awful stench coming from his mouth. God, it’s ten times worse than in the dream.

“Døn’t cry lïttlë lamb,” A slender finger from a hand I know so well swipes at the tear falling from my eye. It takes everything in me to reel in my emotions as he continues. “I prømïsë yøu wøn’t fëël a thïng—”

At the light brush of lips against my pulse point; I move. Snatching the weapon from his loose grip and kicking him to the adjacent wall. As the breath is forced out his lungs I’ve already got the saber pointed at his throat. My foot firmly pressed on his abdomen.

“I’m sorry,” I say mockingly; looking down at the shocked demon eyes that flick to a fuming green, “But that’s not how things will be going tonight.” I lick my lips a smirk tugging on them at the sight of his deadly glare. “And don’t try to act like you’re all that...” Lightly dragging the sword down to his adam’s apple, I add, “Judging from the pork you've been gathering and the slowing down of accidents lately, our little wolf hasn’t had a proper meal, has he?” I can’t help grinning at his expense as he growls; not even his stench of breath can ruin my fun. “So little wolfie is not at his full strength.” Tsking with a shake of my head, I meet his furious gaze, “You really shouldn’t have messed with this Red Riding hood.”

He snarls; green eyes calculating and ablaze. “What the fuck are you?”

I can’t help smiling at the sight of him trying to dodge the blade while simultaneously steaming on his spot on the ground, “Highly trained.” Looking over his leather blazer; black&white patterned turtle neck, and jewelry clad form with a silver chain on his face, I’m left in awe with my heart pounding. Damn, he’s hot for an evil creature happening to look exactly like…

“What do you want?” He grits out pulling me from my dangerous thoughts. His chin defiantly tilted up and dark eyes challenging even with his life on the line. How cute. Tempted by his little proposal I hum. “Tell me where Baekhyun is.”

He visibly stiffens; eyes shifting to the right as he scoffs. “What?”

“I know you know where he is,” I say in a sing-song voice, dragging the sword down to his collarbone as he flinches. “And you will bring me to him.”

The wind blows; ruffling his long white locks of hair dangling in his emerald eyes before they meet mine again. “I’m Baekhyun.”

I smile then proceed to scratch his skin with the sharp blade; raising a brow at the glittery red blood that flows from the small wound. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Baëkhyun, you had me convinced.” Purring I crouch down as his eyes widen the tiniest bit before narrowing my own. “But no one could ever,” Grabbing him by his shirt I press my forehead to his, “Ever. Pass off as him. So.” Tilting my head to the side a dangerous smile plays at my lips, “I suggest you start talking.”

The snow-white haired man keeps his lips sealed as I work on swirling the blade on his surprisingly delicate skin. Marveling at the unnatural blood dripping from the new wound. Baëkhyun all but growls out, “Who the fuck was he to you anyway?”

I pause for a moment; looking into his dark eyes, “Was?”

A cruel smirk forms on his lips; one that has dread filling my gut and my grip tightening on the sword in my hand.

Baëkhyun tilts his head, “You didn’t know?” He purrs with that damn smirk still on his lips. “He’s dead.”

Everything seems to zone out of focus in that moment as his words sink in. Baekhyun?... An image of fluffy black hair and sparkling puppy eyes flashes through my mind. A handsome face with the cutest box smile that could melt a million hearts. No. Taking in his snug form once again, I narrow my eyes; swooping down to point the blade right at his pulse point with a hiss. “You’re lying.”

An unexpected flicker of emotion swarms in his green orbs.“You asked for information yet do not believe me?” His soft tone and glimmering eyes do not match the neutral expression on his face. The two braids on his neck carelessly smearing the drying blood as he tilts his head to the other side, “I thought we had somëthïng spëcïal, Charïty.”

My body stiffens and I watch in horror as a crazed grin splits his face in half. Sickeningly loud cracks of his jaw breaking to accommodate his red monstrous mouth. Red pupils and black irises on full display as a trail of bulging red veins form under his right eye. I gulp holding the saber with both hands. This. This is the demon Baëkhyun from my vision. With crooked sharp teeth and long black claws.

Before I can even blink, I’m sent flying back to the wall at the next gust of wind. The breath knocked from my lungs as I gasp for air only to gag at the little I find. And rough hands slamming my back farther against the brick wall. Baëkhyun’s form is barely recognizable in the dark corner of the alley except for his glowing eyes. His panting rancid breath washing over my face at every exhale he makes.

Cringing at the sound of him grinding his teeth, (literal nails on a chalkboard,) I close my eyes; praying to a higher being to come save me. To help me out before I’m...devoured by a demon.

Just as an unnaturally hot tongue flicks against my cheek, a siren fills the air and Baëkhyun stills his breath. After a few moments I feel his hand release me and I slide helplessly to the ground. Not even lifting my head as his heeled boots walk farther away.

“Sorry little lamb.” He purrs along with the sound of metal dragging along the concrete. “We'll play more next time.” I catch the glint of white in his eye before the world swirls out of focus. “For now, I’ll be watching.” His smirk and glowing eyes are the last thing I see before everything goes black, “See you, sweetheart.”

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Prologue | Part 1 ✓ | Part 2 |

Not to be me but Baëkhyun is the hottest ever 😩🤧🔥

#Baekhyun angst

[lilyakl]

Some Fantasy story:

Just went to doctor to do some annual check up, I weight gain alot in a year, so was a bit stressed doctor notice it. Just enter the examination room, and doctor surprised to see a big belly! First he thought I hide something under my dress, ask me to undress so he can examine better.

I took off my dress and my belly hang out till my knees,

Doctor asked to stand so he can measure my weight and height.

157kg and 157cm

Too short and too fat!!

With a belly that push doctor away, I could not see scale, and doctor was worry I crash it cause of my weight.

I start to walk and belly jiggle heavily!!

Still doctor look at bog belly with a jaw dropping look.

He decided to weigh my belly separately,  it was 30 kg!!

Now he start to listen my heart, but belly notices was so loud, he put his two finger into my big belly button and told me he never see belly like this!! Is it ok to me he jiggle it  I was ok, even feel good!!

My feeder came with two big bag of full of snacks,

Doctor told him, you made her such big fat lady!!

She need to stay here couple days hope che can lose weight!!

I start to put on clinic provided dress, my belly not fit, so they attached two cloths to make one dress for me.

Clinic food was so healthy I ate it in 3 minutes, my feeder gave me his share

Still felt hungry, he decided to order 5 pizza with cheese cake,  clinic staff first though he want to spoil every one,  by he explained my lovely feedee is hungry,  they couldn't believe I can eat all that food,  but I ate in 30 minutes, my feeder started to belly rub....

In next day doctor came to see me! He felt my belly looked bigger, he told me only liquid no more pizza!!!

Now feeder has great idea for each meal he made a 10 liter of ice cream banana chocolate...

Oh god was so delicious!!

After 3 days doctor came a d hoped I lost couple of pounds!!

But he surprised I gained 4 kilos, now even bigger!!

He told me, you not going to lose weight apparently! So let's go some experiment, how much weight you can gain in a month, 

We back home without any examination, and with bigger belly, my feeder rubbed belly while he was driving home....

#weigh gain #female feedee

[oumiyuki]

Teachers don’t date teachers (but You-sensei and Riko-sensei definitely are) Ch6

Summary: The whole student body and teachers teases the gym teacher, Watanabe You, with the new art teacher, Sakurauchi Riko, that they make a cute couple. How long can You deny this when Riko isn’t helping to reduce the rumours?

Pairing: YouRiko

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slice of Teacher Life ;D

Words: 1549

Author Notes

Woah, where did 4 months go? =w=! (yeah, it actually has been 4months since I wrote this :d)

I’m sorry for taking so long despite wanting to write and update this. @w@

May you enjoy~ :D

Tease06 – You-sensei is so worried for Riko-sensei she carries her (if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is)

Ever since she started, Riko found teaching wondrous, fun and intriguing to a point of giddiness. Today, however, that giddiness she was experiencing from her left brain to the right was not due to her enjoyment in teaching art. The art teacher breathes a heavy breath as she placed both hands on the teacher's art desk for aid in keeping her standing straight. 

"So...we will be..." The auburn-haired teacher tries to explain what shall be conducted in class only to break out into a coughing fit, a demure hand flying up to cover her mouth as she gave an apologetic expression to her students. "I'm sorry, I..." 

"Are you okay, Riko-sensei?" 

"You should sit!" 

"Mm..." Riko's mind latches on the word 'sit'. Sitting sounds like such a comfortable thing right now. Her body won over mind as she slid down onto the chair behind her, face growing redder and hotter. "I'm just a little dizzy. I just need-" 

A student jumps to her feet, startling Riko in the slightest as the world was spinning to the art teacher. The student exchange quick glances with her friends before exclaiming, "We'll go get help!" 

Before Riko could process the declaration and consider protesting, the kids were out of the art room and running through the corridors in search for the one and only Watanabe You-sensei.

"You-sensei...You-sensei..." One student mutters continuously as the trio ran pass many classrooms, giving a quick scan to see if the gym teacher was inside. 

"D-Do you think Riko-sensei w-will be okay?" Another question; a bit out of breath and very much the worrywart. 

"Oh, c'mon. That's why we are looking for You-sensei right now! Once Riko-sensei's girlfriend heals her, she'll be all healthy again!" The one who declared the search pumps a fist forwards as they make their way for the school court; there's a chance the gym teacher was conducting a class right now after all. 

"R-right..." 

"Save Riko-sensei! You-sensei!" The student shouts but shrieks as she bumps into someone at the turn. 

"Woah there- No running in the hallway, kids." 

Three collective gasps sound as they recognized that handsome voice anywhere. "YOU-SENSEI!" 

You blinks at the loud volume literally right in front of her and directed at her before she smiles warmly, hoping to help calm the students down. "What's up? Shouldn't you three be in class?" 

"You-sensei, help!" 

"Eh? What's wrong?" You's jolly expression turns into concern at the word 'help' said with that much distress.

"R-Riko-sensei is..!" 

"Riko-sensei is??" You's eyes widened considerably, nothing but worry for the art teacher filling her mind. 

Did something happen to Riko-sensei? Is it serious? What-

Instead of an answer, the students turned and started running again. "Follow us, You-sensei! Hurry!" 

You didn't need to be told twice considering that it concerns Riko. As You ran alongside the students, instead of letting her mind race with most probably, highly unlikely, worst case scenarios, You asks again, “What happened to Riko-sensei? Could you tell?”

Please don’t let Riko-sensei be hurt...or injured…

The adrenaline of running so much, mixed with their concern for their art teacher, however, causes the students to exclaim, “She can’t get up!”

EH??

You’s face morphed into that of disbelief and fear.

Did an entire shelf of art materials fall onto Riko-sensei??

“She fainted!”

Fainted? Okay, that’s not as serious as the first one. Or was it fainting after the first one??

You shakes her head in an attempt to not let all these horrible scenarios of the gentle art teacher being incapable of saving herself lead her into a state of panic, which would be bad since she still hasn't done the actual saving.

“We’ve got to hurry.” You mutters more to herself than to the students as she picked up the pace.

“Do you think s-she’ll be okay?”

You takes a second or so to push the negative bug aside and turn to give her student a reassuring smile. “She’ll be okay.”

I’ll make sure she’s okay.

Nearing the art room, You didn’t even bother waiting for the three students to catch up or lead, as where the art teacher would be is obvious. You kicks off the ground for an extra push and hurries through the door that was thankfully left open. The gym teacher didn’t want to have to go through the trouble of opening a door or accidentally breaking one.

“Is Riko-sensei here?”

Please be here. Please be alright.

Wide sky blue eyes scanned the room, taking note of the students pointing towards the teacher’s desk, You’s line of sight follows to see a head of burgundy hidden behind stacks of canvases, paintbrushes of various sizes and who knows what.

“Riko-sensei!”

You strides over to the art teacher slumped on the table, lowering her back to get a closer look; concern and worry paints her face. “Riko-sensei? Are you feeling okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

What do I do in these sort of situations? Ahhh…I better just check on how she is at the moment…

Riko sounds a muffled “Mm…” Clearly having difficulty doing anything else.

The ash-brunette’s eyebrows furrowed as she strains her ears to hear what Riko was trying to say, frowning when Riko didn’t say another word. “You don’t sound okay…”

Now what do I do? Mm…

The class that has been observing intently at their favourite gym teacher display a whole lot of care for their favourite art teacher exchange glances and disoriented whispers before coming to a decision to assist.

“Check her temperature, You-sensei.” A student suggests.

You looks up, nods to the student before shifting Riko’s head as gently as she could to the right so that the teacher’s face visible.

Gosh, her face is all red…And she looks so weak…

You swallows and nudges herself to stop staring and start moving. After one, two deep breaths through the nose, “E-Excuse me for a bit…Riko-sensei…I’m just gonna check your temperature…”

You murmurs as she moves closer to the art teacher’s flushed face, slowly, azure eyes fixated on Riko’s forehead, a shaky hand raised to brush Riko’s fringe to the side.

The students all stared hard, holding their breaths. Some even stood to get a better view. Some hushed whispers amongst themselves for what’s to come.

“Is this really going to happen?”

“It’s happening isn’t it..!”

“Forehead touch..!”

You then puts the back of her hand to Riko’s forehead and another to her own  for the temperature comparison. You flinches and gives Riko a look of disapproval. “Woah, you’re really hot, Riko-sensei.”

Riko heats up more at that statement while loud murmurs start within the class.

Riko-sensei definitely has a high fever…

You was oblivious as she stands to her full height. “I’ll take you to the nurse’s office.”

“…No…” Riko attempts to protest, still wanting to recover on her own and continue her lesson, and maybe, just maybe, a little worried that You bringing her to the nurse’s office would cause her to overheat before she even reaches the doctor.

“There’s no room for discussion here, Riko-sensei. I’ve told you umpteen times to-” You sighs, not wanting to nag and worsen the art teacher’s headache which tends to be part of the package of fevers. She makes to carry Riko but the art teacher places a horribly weak hand on her shoulder to stop. “Riko-”

Riko’s face was as red as the freshest crops of strawberries and she could barely hold eye contact with the still unaware and seemingly radiant gym teacher who was so going to scoop her up in those strong arms and make Riko’s fever worsen. “I…can walk…”

Yeah, right.

You shakes her head but moves to put her arm around the art teacher, hand on the auburn-haired teacher’s shoulder so that Riko can stand, then shifting it down to Riko’s waist to give her support. Not noticing any of the student's squeals and misunderstanding Riko’s tightening grip on her other hand as a need for steadying Riko’s feet.

Riko-sensei probably doesn’t want to let the kids see her weak like that. I’ll carry her to the nurse’s office once we’re out of sight.

A painstakingly long six minutes later of Riko feebly exiting the art room with You’s assistance, the gym teacher gives her surrounding a quick scan, then stands in front of Riko. “We’ll take at least an hour to get to nurse’s office with your pace, Riko-sensei… This is for your own good. So be a good girl and let me bring you there, okay?”

Riko opens her mouth to rebut, however…You was right. And she did notice the gym teacher making sure that the coast was clear, so she gives her nod of agreement. “No…princ-”

You steps into Riko’s personal space from the front, bend her knees a little before letting the art teacher’s body weight all rest on her own front, hands crossed below Riko’s upper thigh. With Riko safely lifted up, You begins walking to the nurse’s office as quickly as she could.

Unbeknownst to the two teachers, some of the students did sneak out the classroom despite You’s instructions to just paint something, so that they could catch another You-sensei and Riko-sensei moment, plus snap a few pictures of the whole process of You-sensei carrying Riko-sensei; even if it wasn’t a princess carry.

Author Notes

Whoops, I was staying in bed dreaming about YouRiko instead of writing it. –guilty!- But you know, you know, it actually helps writing these scenes by “experiencing” it in my sleep! www

A-ny-whos~! XD How did you like this next chapter? :D

I hope y’all are still enjoying it as much as I’m writing it! hehe~ XD Uuuuu…I already have the next scene- sceneS I want to write.  But ahh, for now, accept these ones! *O*

Do share with me which parts made you laugh or squeal like the students (and I)~ ;D hehe~ See you next tease! :D 

#youriko #watanabe you #sakurauchi riko #teacher/teacher au #the teacher/teacher au I crave for YouRiko #fanfiction #fanfic #yuri #romance #fluff #teachers #writing #love live! sunshine!! #love live! #rikoyou

[everyonesawhoregrace]

Tough Love   (2) Michael Gray Fanfic

I try to maintain my emotions, I try to stand there and not looked shocked or disappointed, it even remotely upset. For heaven sake, I have no clue of what I feel. But I think I fail tremendously, because Mary looks over at me and her jaw literally drops to the floor once Henry says my name out loud. 

“Oh fuck!” She gasps, putting her hand over her mouth. Her eyes widen, which only makes me more nervous. 

I look away, feeling his glare. I look away and my eyes circle the room, feeling my body heat up. Christ. I feel like my hearts about to fucking explode. My face might just burn off too. Fuck.

“Leave. Now.” His voice booms with power.

I look up, fearful that he might be talking to me, but his eyes fall on the guards, who get up and walk away. He mentions Mary who nods various times like some sort of puppet, she exits too. And shuts the door. I almost lose my cool with her, she’s absolutely ridiculous. Leaving me here with him.

I flush, glancing down at my fingers. I take a deep breath, telling myself to speak. 

“You work here?” He asks, and when I fix my eyes on his, Michael’s eyes blaze into my skin. 

“Yes.” I whisper, “I’m a nurse.” 

“Nurse.” He nods, but frowns, pouting. “Like when we were kids, and you’d insist on checking our temperatures when we were sick.” He chuckles, “You remember?” 

How could I not? I was always a little excited when the others fell ill, it meant the nurses would come by and check on them, I would try to learn alongside. Shadowing and doing things to help as best I could. Henry picks up his smokes, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. 

I watch in dismay, “You smoke now?” 

He sucks on it , pulling it back and looking down at the stick and nodding, “I guess so.”

I pale, and Henry runs a hand thorough his hair, putting it back between his lips. He studies me, drinking me up, as I turn away, wondering how he ended up with the Blinders. His green eyes fill with darkness, as I remember the last time we saw each other was when he left with Mr and Mrs. Johnson.

There is no way in hell such a holy pair would let their foster child end up with a gang. That day he was picked up and saved by the Johnsons, I remember being left with Father John Hughes. Crying my eyes out as he was whisked away with that family, and I was left with Father. 

That was almost a decade ago. We were only 12 when he was taken from me.

“I wrote you.” He croaks, shutting his book before helping himself up to stand. My instinct is to help him, but he’s got a cane to help him rise. “You never wrote me back, June. Why?” He accuses me of something I did not know of until now.

“When did you ever write me?” I seize, my gaze narrowing. 

Henry is no longer a little boy, no, that part of him has expired. I see a man of staggering difference than the person I knew growing up. Everything about Henry has changed, and that boy filled with life has morphed into a man of height and healthy weight. 

He stands there, and I can’t help but wither under his stare. “I wrote you every weekend, made sure to be careful. I-I made sure to address formally to make it seem like it was a foster family or something. I wrote you every weekend and for months I sat by the post office waiting for your letter to me back.” 

His words tug at my heart, knowing how much we once meant to each other. There was no words ever exchanged about our feelings, but there was no need for it to be expressed. We were children who had hope of seeing each other again! The love we had was innocent and shy, just like us. All of these picture perfect memories that I had locked up and forgotten about come rushing in. I missed you so much, Henry. The world stills as I reach for those memories and allow myself to feel again. I needed you, and you weren’t there, God. I needed you.

“Father Hughes, he-” I swallow, biting down. “He must’ve read them and threw it out, I had no clue, Henry.” 

He leans into his cane, “It’s Michael now.” He emphasizes on the name, and it sounds weird coming out of his mouth. Michael.

Ah yes. Michael Gray. “That your real name?” 

There is a pause, before he nods. “Yeah, I-I ah, I met my mum, June.” 

Like a flame that dies, I look at this man and try to erase the awful things I thought of him. He had promised to write me and didn’t, promised he’d get me out of that fucking awful place and didn’t. Promised to save me, but the only saving he did was saving himself. The second Henry was in the care of a good family, he never dared look back at the church. 

“Who is she? Your mum.” 

“Polly Gray,” He grumbles, sitting down on the bed in a sigh. “Of Small Heath, Birmingham.” 

“Gypsy?” 

He nods. 

“She’s the one who got you in?” 

“In what?” 

“The Peaky Blinders.” I say the words as if they taste bad.

He scoffs, “What do you know about the Peaky Blinders?” 

“Enough.” I reply, mentioning the men who stand outside. “You must be high up in the branches of the gang if you have men twice your age lookin’ after yous.” 

Again, a pause. His mind is probably trying to get out of the truth, something he hasn’t left behind from his childhood. Henry-Michael always had a way with words, he could get out of murdering someone if he liked. It was almost like something he could switch on and off, his cheeky, smart self. Suddenly, the thought of Henry-Michael mortifies me, had he ever claimed a life? Perhaps cut a smile.

His mouth presses into a hard line, but then, almost as if to change the subject, his lips lips lift and he tries to stiffen out a smile. “I missed you..really. I thought I’d never see you again.” 

I swallow, a lump in my throat as I smile too. “It’s nice isn’t it? Seeing the family you were kind of forced into.” 

“Yea.” His tone changes, less formal, more boyish. More Henry like. “How did you get out of The Hell Hole?” He continues to smoke, nearly finishing the thing off. 

The Hell Hole, what we used to call the orphanage. I move to the table, pulling back a chair to sit down. I cross my legs, knowing it’ll only heighten my dress. But I do it unconsciously, and when Henry-Michael stares at the new found skin. 

I pull down the dress and clear my throat. “When I turned sixteen, they let me go to public school in Glennrich. I had a little bit more freedom. I packed up my bags, and in the morning of the third week of school, I left.” My voice goes low, as the memory of running away comes back, “And I never looked back.” 

“Sixteen.” He whispers. “You tolerated another four years there without me...” 

Henry was my guardian angel in the orphanages. He had gotten me out of at least a dozen beatens and rapes with his smart mouth. Granted, he received beatings for protecting me but he always came back to the rooms with a smile on his face. Don’t worry, he would tell me, they’re not going to hurt you anymore Juney. When I get outta here, I’ll make sure these bastards get what they deserve.

I look down at the bit of dried blood on my dress, I didn’t mean to hash up stuff from the past, but my mouth opens and I speak without considering it. “You said you were going to tell the police of what they do to the kids at the orphanage.” 

“I tried!” He’s curt, and the way he raises his voice strains him. He flashes a pain, which only makes me wince. “I promise,” He huffs, “I tried.” 

He closes his eyes and I get on my feet, approaching him, “Okay, okay. Are you alright?” 

“Yea,” He pushes out a breath, “The doctor said I had some internal bleeding.” 

Without thinking, I grab the stick from between his lips and put it out into the ashtray. “Internal bleeding is no joke, Henr-Michael.” I sigh, turning around. “Have you been taking your medication?”

We’re close, and he only takes advantage of the moment and really examines me. As if his life depends on it, he studies me, shifting to get a better look of my face. He blinks, and when he’s ready, he murmurs. “It, ah, it makes me drowsy,” 

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t doing the same. I lick my lips, he looks so vulnerable. And the way his eyes scan my face only makes me blush, and my stomach gets all knotted. He doesn’t shy away, like I had imagined. But he lifts his hand ever so slightly, and touches the back of his fingers against the side of my face. 

He grits his teeth, as his fingers stroke my skin. “Do you know how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking of you?” 

“Henry,” I turn my head, pulling myself away, I press my lips together, eyebrows pulling together. I wrap my hands around myself, a way to shut myself out and exit this conversation. “I mean, Michael. I-” My mouth goes dry. 

The doors push open and we both jump, staring at the woman who looks at us like we’re ghosts. I don’t know her face, and I’ve never met this woman. But she seems to be entitled enough to barge her way past the guards and looks Michael with these wide worried eyes.

This woman before me is his biological mother. Standing tall, just oozing with power.

She is Polly Gray.

#michael gray one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray fanfic #michael gray imagine #everyonesawhoregrace

[notgonnarememberthis]

Confessions

Hey y’all! This idea came to me a few days ago when binge watching a youtube series about female killers (The youtube channel is literally “Female Killers” if you wanna check it out). The case is actually a combination of two of the videos and the names of the actual women I don’t remember at all. This is set a year after the season 6 finale so they’re back in New York once more as Doherty has been teasing since the finale. One more thing that is also based on real life is the Massachusetts gas explosions which actually happened in Boston last month.

Anyways I missed writing my babies and had to get back to them at least once before exam season hits me like a truck. So enjoy this little oneshot!

Ringing in Joan’s ears pierces the darkness forcing her back into consciousness. Her vision is foggy as she opens her eyes to a distorted world. Fire dances up wallpaper and curtains spreading ash and smoke in its wake. She blinks once, twice trying to get her mind to connect previous events to how she got here.

She and Marcus split from Sherlock to investigate a suspect in the killing of a local millionaire. They were looking into the mistress but the sister said she wasn’t home. The girl allowed them entry anyways before dismissing herself. She heard Marcus shout and then nothing. Her eyes widen with realization.

It was a trap. There was a bomb in the back room and it’d gone off before she could get out. She tries to sit up but a piece of a support beam weighs heavily across her stomach. Pain blossoms in her ribs as she tries to free herself knocking the breath out of her. She leans her head back trying to find anything in her reach that could help.

“Joan!” The shout of her name just barely cuts through the crackling of the fire around her. Marcus made it out. That’s good.

“In here!” She shouts back much to her body’s protest. The door crashes in as Marcus appears. His eyes widen as he finds her stuck.

“Shit.” He mutters, moving quickly to lift and throw the beam off of her. “It’s okay. I got you.” She takes in his form noting that he had a few scratches but looked relatively unharmed. He must’ve gotten out the back door before the explosion went off. “Paramedics are on their way.” He lifts her without hesitation carrying her out of the building.

Her head feels heavy again as they step out into the cloudy daylight. Her entire chest burns with the exertion of simply breathing and she wants nothing more than to sleep.

“Hey.” Marcus calls to her shaking her gently as he sets her on the damp grass. “No sleeping, they’re almost here.”

“Sherlock,” She coughs aggravating her ribs once again.

“I called the captain they’re meeting us at the hospital.” He looks up as sirens draw closer, waving on the paramedics as they pile out of the ambulance.

Vaguely she feels herself being lifted onto a gurney with Marcus in toe. One of the men secure an oxygen mask on her face and that’s the last thing she remembers before everything fades away once again.

The next time she wakes is to Sherlock’s voice and bouncing legs next to her hospital bed. She feels the weight of his hand holding hers. She squeezes his hand lightly pulling his mind from whatever depths it’d plunged into while she was away.

“Joan,” Just her name steals her breath away again. She can count the number of instances he’d called her Joan on one hand. Whenever he did she knew he was more serious than ever before. “You’re awake.”

“Can’t keep me down for long.” She jokes lightly but it doesn’t break the tension in the air.

“I’ll call for the nurse.” He moves to stand but she doesn’t let his hand go. He looks back at her, his face displaying every emotion at once. So few times is Sherlock so open with her. It takes her back a year ago when he tried to say goodbye and leave for London without her. “Watson…”

“I’m okay.” She whispers.

“You encountered a bomb.”

“So did Marcus.”

“Marcus wasn’t trapped. You were.” His voice is so soft she can barely make out the words. There’s so much held in his tone that’s unspoken. She partially wonders if he’ll ever say what he means aloud. Against every instinct in her body wanting to keep him here, with her, she lets him go. His eyes shine with relief that she understood and he leaves her alone once more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Growing accustomed to sedentary life is easier said than done for Joan. In the explosion she’d fractured two ribs again as well as a nasty sprain on her ankle. Between the captain, Bell, and Sherlock they were all making sure she was adhering to her doctor’s orders. Admittedly she pushed the boundaries occasionally but most of the time it was to see how much she could get away with before the others intervened. Though such a method put her in the place of a half an hour long lecture from Sherlock for simply carrying a box of case files to the evidence room.

Moments like this she especially loathed as one of the recommendations was less outings with the police. She was to remain off her feet as much as possible for proper healing leaving her studying cold case files while Sherlock and Marcus investigate their latest case. Clyde keeps her company in her terrarium that Sherlock kindly set up within her reach. He munches quietly on his lunch while she studies mindlessly.

“Watson!” Sherlock announces himself as he steps in from the crisp November afternoon. “I bring sustenance.”

“In here.” She calls. He marches in the room placing the bag on the coffee table before peering over her shoulder at her work.

“You’ll be happy to hear that the Dane sisters have been apprehended as of this morning. It is unlikely that either of them will escape a life sentence.” The Dane sisters, as they discovered, were the millionaire’s mistress and her older sisters. They’d conspired together to murder the millionaire as the mistress discovered she was the main benefactor in her lover’s will. His marriage was a bitter one with no children to part his money to. The bomb was set to rid of evidence, carefully disguised as liking to the series of gas explosions that wracked Massachusetts homes earlier this year. Though between her and Sherlock it wasn’t difficult to unearth enough evidence for conviction.

“Good.” She makes her move to stand frowning slightly when Sherlock rushes to her side to support her. She knows he means well but there are just moments where it is a little overwhelming. “At least we have some good news today.”

Sherlock just purses his lips in a tight smile and nods. He bounces on his toes a few times eyes fixing on every part of the room except her. She raises an eyebrow waiting for him to explain the odd behavior. Finally his eyes land on her and as if someone pressed pause, he stills. “I have a confession.”

“Okay?” Amusement pierces her tone as she studies his features. He’s a bundle of nervous energy and it’s a state she hasn’t seen him in in a far too long time.

“A year ago, when Michael attacked you… Had Hannah not have beaten me to it, quite literally might I add. I would have killed Michael Rowan.”

“Don’t say that to anyone else they just let us start working with the NYPD again a month ago.” She teases but she stops her laugh when she sees how deadly serious he is. Against every instinct that screams in her head she grabs his hand squeezing it lightly. “Hey, I’m okay.”

He nods, eyes glued to their hands. When she tries to pull away she finds that he holds her in place, squeezing her hand in return before letting it go. “Yes but you almost weren’t. It’s becoming an occurrence that is far too often for my liking.”

“We’re going to have those days Sherlock. Cases will go wrong sometimes. I seem to remember two months ago you got locked in the back of a suspect’s trunk and got taken to the other side of New York.”

“Yes, I know.” He sighs frustratedly. “I just need to get something off my chest. Something that should one of us die tomorrow I know I said my piece.”

“Sherlock?”

“Joan,” Her name once again holds the strength to knock the air from her lungs. The amount of emotion he can pack into one syllable is remarkable. “The truth is, I’ve never loved anyone as I have you.” He steps closer to her, still minding her space but just enough to make it intimate. A space between them that hasn’t been crossed outside of undercover cases. “It’s true I loved Moriarty. I once said that everyone else pales in comparison to her. It seems I made the same fatal mistake as she. I underestimated you.”

Her fingers reach to him but she stops herself, knowing better than not to interrupt. She doesn’t want to break the fragile glass holding this moment together.

“What I had with her though… Is so different. With Moriarty it was as if I was addicted to her. To her touch, to how she made me feel. It was a rush of adrenaline I could never mimic. Not even with heroin. You, however, sustain. You keep me alive Watson. You are like water in a desert. I never knew I was thirsting until I met you. Until I almost lost you, I took that for granted. No more.”

His confession hangs in the air on a thin thread. One wrong move would send everything crashing and he could retreat. His eyes no longer meet hers, rather he stares down at the space in between them so focused on the swirls in the wood. She can practically see the shame washing over him.

She takes the step forwards putting herself in his view. Her fingers reach for his cheek pulling his eyes up to hers. She searches them for any chance that this may be some sort of trick of any kind. An experiment that he may be using to test her. Truth and vulnerability shine in the blue depths. Her thumb caresses the thin layer of stubble growing in again. The lack of heels draws her attention to the height difference. His hands hover before landing on her waist, fingers spreading across the fabric of her cardigan. She can practically see him logging every detail into his mind.

In the end it’s her that crosses the final line as she leans up brushing her lips against his. His eyes never close still taking in every detail. She grows a little bolder as she feels his grip on her tighten so she presses a little bit firmer gauging his response. Finally tension seeps out of his body and he sinks into her. Her heart thrums so loudly in her ears she wonders momentarily if he can hear it too.

Her breath catches as his hands begin to explore as well. One ventures up her spine settling between her shoulder blades to pull her closer, the other buries in her blonde locks taking in how it feels between his fingers. Her own hands find new places as well, one gripping the front of his shirt and the other the back of his neck, her nails scratching the base of his hairline.

In the heat of the moment she forgets her injuries. She gains more confidence, but as she pushes against him her ribs cry out in protest pulling a whimper from his lips. He immediately pulls away eyes assessing once again. “I’m sorry.” He mutters the apology along with the phrases ‘foolish’ and ‘I forgot’ dispersed between his quiet words.

“I’m okay.” She whispers pressing a faint kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Right.” He leans his forehead against hers, lips stretching into a genuine smile. His eyes sparkle with something she’s never seen before. It sends her heart thumping all over again. They remain like that for a few minutes. They simply linger in each other’s embrace seeking comforts they weren’t allowed just minutes before. She feels his heart pounding against her fingertips just as quick as hers. His nose bumps against hers as if he’s tempted to delve in once again, yet he resists the pull. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold, shall we?”

“I’m starved.” She smiles back giddy with promises anew. “What’d you get?”

“Thai. I know it’s your favorite.”

#joanlock #joan watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock x joan #sherlock holmes x joan watson #elementary #marcus bell #elementary cbs #confessions #notgonnarememberthis fics

[sonofadeanwinchester]

Someday Darling (Part Twenty-Six)

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five

Summary: Leaving LA to go to New York to spend time with your brother might just be the worst/best decision of your life.

Words: 1,902

Student!Sebastian x Reader ; Actor!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: SWEARING ; FLUFF ; PREGNANCY

A/N:  If you wanna be tagged, don’t be shy and let me know! ;)

Tags: @221bshrlocked@marvelouslyme96@shellymaesworld@titty-teetee@pawallday@chameerah@buckylicious@nerdywitch@teresaolivia20 @guera31 @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn@lancetucker@ssweet-empowerment@ijustreallylovezebras@amandarosemire@zainab2 @jhangelface0523@care-bear-girl@parkerrpeterr@bxxbxy@winter--cearig @beccavesper @mrs-meghan-winchester@amren-tiny-ancient-one

The next day I knew that it was going to be a rough one. After Seb and my sex round, I knew I needed sleep to help me get through what was coming. I woke up later that morning to find Seb's spot cold as ice and laughter drifting from the kitchen. I scrunched my nose, in curiosity, and slipped my clothes back on. I skittered down the hall, finding Seb, Chris and Penn sitting around the table as Mikayla cooked, yet another big breakfast. Seb rose to let me sit, "Morning, mama."

I shook my head, face disgusted. "Too soon, Seb." I sucked in a breath. "Chris."

He smiled at me, his eyes warm. "Hey, doll."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "Chris, I'm so sorry."

He stood, coming to me. "Doll, no need to cry. Listen, I overreacted. I know you didn't purposely get pregnant and certainly not to hurt me. It's okay."

Tears sprung free, rolling down my cheeks. "I don't know what to do." I whispered. "What am I supposed to do?"

He pulled me into him, kissing the crown of my head. "(y/n), it's not my call to make. But first, we need to get you to a doctor."

Seb nodded behind him and smiled. "I told Chris just a few minutes ago that I made you an appointment for this morning. We're all going to go; you, me and Chris."

I snuffed and stepped away. "The three of us?"

Chris nodded, smiling. "Sebastian understands how important you are to me and was willing to let me in on this. It's at 11:30."

I looked at the clock, 10:49. "Shit, we won't make it on time if we don't leave now."

Seb nodded, "I know baby, just calm down. We were waiting for you to wake up. Chris, meet us down in the lobby will you?" Seb came to me and pushed me towards the bedroom, where magically clothes had been laid out for me at the end of the bed. "Get dressed sweetheart, meet me by the door. (y/n), I love you."

I smiled tightly, "Love you too."

I got dressed and followed Seb to the elevator, slowly making its way down to the lobby. "Chris is being way to chill about this."

Seb laced our fingers together, "'I know, babe, but don't push it. We're lucky he's holding it together as is."

We hailed a taxi and 35 minutes later, we were in the hospital waiting room. I sat between the two boys, holding Seb's hand and resting my head on Chris's arm. An older lady with black hair and mocha skin came out and called my name. She looked between the men, "Uh, who's the daddy?"

Seb stood slowly, smiling. "I am."

The nurse, probably fifty-five, looked at me and winked. "Good choice, sweetie." My face flushed a deep red and I noticed Seb was rolling his eyes. "Y'all follow me please." She stopped and looked at Chris, "Who are you here with?"

He stood, "Uh, with them. I'm the girl's ex-boyfriend."

She looked from me to him and then to Seb. "Damn girl, okay. Uh, you come with me. Son, I'm a big fan but you'll have to wait here."

He nodded and sat down. "I'll be right here, sweetheart."

Seb and I followed the nurse into a small room, gray paint on the walls, bare except for a large portrait of the statue of liberty. She sat me down on the black bench, covered in parchment paper. It crinkled under my weight and Seb sat in the chair beside me. He laced our fingers together. "It'll be okay, baby."

I nodded. The nurse informed us that the doctor will be with us shortly. She exited the room and Seb pulled me down onto his lap. I pressed my cheek to his chest, soaking in his sweet smell. He smelt like vanilla, a bit of sweet juice, the ocean and warmth. Literal warmth. "Jesus, you smell good."

He chuckled, "That's good considering I still haven't showered since our crazy sex this morning."

I scoffed, "Fuck, well, I guess sex smells good on you then." I kissed his lips and he pulled me closer. He placed a gentle hand on my back, and the other to the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair. Half way through our wicked make-out session, the door started to open and I jumped off of him and onto the table. From the look of the doctor, my hair must've been a mess because he smiled and looked down at Seb who was wiping lip gloss off his mouth.

He introduced himself, "My name is Dr. Moretz, you're (y/n)?" I nodded. He looked at Seb, "You must be the dad."

He nodded and reached his hand forward. "Sebastian."

"Nice to meet you." He gestured to me. "I'm just going to ask you a few questions and then we'll take a look." He cleared his throat. "When were you expecting your period?"

I lifted my eyebrows, "Uh, roughly ... 5 days ago."

He nodded, jotting some notes down. "How many times have you had intercourse without protection?"

I scoffed, "With him or in general?"

He smiled, "With your current partner."

"Oh, uh, I don't really know. Like, not often, maybe like 5-6 times."

He nodded. "Okay, how many time have you had intercourse, with your current partner, in general?"

I bit my lip, "Roughly 35 times in the past two months."

Sebastian scoffed beside me and ran his hand through his hair. He raised his hand. "Doc, I have a question. Uh, is there any restrictions she's suppose to be on, sex wise?"

He smiled, "Actually no. Your baby is well protected in your uterus by the amniotic fluid that surrounds it.. So intercourse will do no harm." He looked back at me. "What kind of symptoms have you had?"

"Uh, my breasts hurt, I'm tired all the time. I pee more than I drink, I was sick quite a bit, not throwing up as much now, my mood and hormones are all over the place, and headaches." I rubbed my temples, out of habit.

Dr. Moretz smiled and wrote something else down. "Okay, I'll get your weight now, to measure the baby's growth. Just step over onto this scale, please." I stepped on it, he smiled and wrote it down. "Perfectly healthy for a girl your height. Thank you."

I sat back down and Seb was standing now, rubbing my back gently. "You okay?"

I nodded, "Yeah, fine baby, uh, my back is hurting that's all."

The doctor stood, twisting a blood pressure wrap around my arm. "Stay still please." He pumped a few times, and I held my breath. He smiled, "Pressure is perfectly normal for a woman at your stage of pregnancy, 120/80, lovely." He jotted it down and sat back into the swivel chair. "Okay, next let's discuss your diet. What have you been eating?"

Sebastian scoffed, "She's been eating like 3 day old Thai food, hamburgers, hot dogs, crap ton of ice cream. I tried making vegetables one night but she didn't touch them."

The doctor smiled, lips tight. "Okay, well first of all, all that has to stop, mostly. For the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, we recommend that you take folic acid at 5mg everyday. You can find this in some food as well, like, spinach, radish, coriander, mint and lettuce. Uh, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, beans, peas, corn, cabbage. Some fruits include avocado, pomegranate, oranges, strawberries. Nuts are good too; peanuts, walnuts, and almonds. Some drinks, obviously water, recommended at 12 glasses a day but if you don't feel like that, coconut water, skimmed milk, banana shakes. They are all good for you.  Also, let's discuss some blood tests that you'll need to get done. I have written them down for you." He handed Sebastian a piece of paper. "We'll check your blood type, iron levels, Rhesus factor, blood sugar. Also for hepatitis B, HIV/AIDS and syphilis. We'll screen for thyroid problems, rubella known as German measles. We'll screen for abnormalities, check for CMV, hepatitis C, HSV, Toxoplasmosis."

I looked at him in horror. "That's a lot of stuff."

"Yes, it is but we want to make sure your baby is healthy as a horse. Any questions?"

"Uh, yeah, what position should I be sleeping in?"

He chuckled, "Anything is fine, just as long as you're comfortable." He sighed, "Uh, now we'll just have to pick a date for you're ultrasound."

Sebastian shook his head, "We are wide open, I can study from home and take classes online. What do you have free Doc?"

He nodded, "How about July 21? That's 3 weeks from now." Seb nodded. "Perfect. Uh, between now and then, if you want to make appointments for those screening test, that would be helpful." He scribbled on his notepad. "This is your prescription for prenatal pills and folic acid. Now, I'll check your uterus and see where the baby's at."

He laid me down on my back, asking Sebastian to have a seat. He pulled on white rubber gloves and spread my legs. I felt his fingers trail up inside of me and move around slightly. He pulled out and removed the gloves. "Everything feels fine, you baby is about the size of a raspberry right now. If you experience any discomfort or are concerned about anything at all, we have a 24/7 helpline, feel free to call." He sat me up and scribbled again on the notepad. "You're both free to go." He exited the room.

Seb helped me off the bench and out into the waiting room. Chris was sitting there, talking to a young lady. He caught sight of me and excused himself. She looked disgusted but stomped off back towards her, I suspect, baby daddy. He hugged me, "What's the news?"

Sebastian smiled, "Everything is good, baby is healthy. Ultrasound is July 21, gonna check for the gender." He smiled. "I'll be right back, need to make appointments for all this blood test shit." He kissed my lips quickly.

Chris rocked on his heels, ducking his head to meet my eyes. "I won't be here for that."

I nodded, "I know."

"I'm still going back.. Back to California."

I sniffed, "Chris, I know."

He bit his lip, "You make a decision?"

I shot my head back, "You fucking serious? Chris! I'm fucking knocked up with my boyfriend's baby and you're asking me to run away with you? What the actual hell man?" I stepped away from him. I must have yelled a tiny bit because people were staring at us now, including Sebastian.

One girl leaned into her mother, "That's Chris Evans. Like the actor. Who's that girl with him?"

I looked her dead in the eye, "Sweetheart, if you're going to whisper, make sure it's a fucking whisper. I’m his ex-girlfriend.."

Sebastian was over to us now, "Uh, guys, everything okay?"

I shook my head, "Not really, Seb. Chris just asked me if I would run away with him back to fucking California with your baby inside of me." I stepped away, walking towards the exit.

When I turned around to yell at Seb to follow me, all I saw was his fist connecting with Chris's face, knocking him out cold. "Fuck you, Chris Evans."

#someday darling #part twenty six #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #fanfic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanficition #sebstan fanfic #seb #stan #sebastian stan oneshots #imagine #sebastian stan imagine #seb stan imagine #chris evans imagine #chris imagine #evans imagine #sebastian imagine #stan imagine #au #marvel au #marvel rpf #taglist is open #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader #reader

[glitterysummerkitty]

Dr Bombshell & Mr Hollywood

Please check Master List for direct links to the chapter

Chapter 12

         Candice didn’t need the GPS to know that they were nearing the restaurant. She and Mabel had been frequenting this place since their days together at New York University, where they had completed their doctorate degree together. The Red Dragon was a cosy, well established eatery whose owners Mr and Mrs Zeng have been serving the students and residents of the Greenwich Village for nearly twenty years now. They are a lovely pair, who were always warm and friendly towards their patrons. On those glorious end of term, when stressed out students would be buried deep in their books, the Zeng’s would always close late and even post their closing time their kitchen would remain available and students could call the restaurant, at any time to order food.

      Candice had always adored them and sought comfort in the fact that she would at least get to meet them tonight. The Red Dragon was her comfort nest away from home, one could say.

      As Claire drove them to their destination, she did think about how unfair it was for her to change the destination at the last moment. Their original plan had been to meet Naomi at Central café but she had changed it to the Red Dragon after careful consideration. One would point out that Candice had almost a week to consider it but with each passing day Candice had found herself growing fickle, her mind vacillating between wanting to meet and not wanting to meet.

      Nobody, except Melanie, could comprehend her anxiety about the whole meeting. There was a reason why Candice’s friend circle didn’t extend much beyond her Mabel and her sister. Only recently she had come to be a little more comfortable around Dave and that was, essentially, because she was forced to share an office with him.

      People, in general, made her nervous and the prospect of having to meet someone for the first time always left her nerves shattered. What was Candice so afraid of? People being cynical, hypocritical, judging unfairly when their own lives couldn’t be cited as an example in an ‘A complete Guide to How to lead a perfect life’, if there was one. Ironically, Candice met more of such people in the place she would least expect to find any- the Church.

      Naomi had no reason to judge her. Maybe her book but not her? The judgement of her book wouldn’t be a reflection of judgement of own self, or would it be? Writer’s tended to allow a part of themselves, consciously or unconsciously, to slip into the pages, into their characters. Hence, there was always this apprehension they faced that, maybe, they might have allowed, unknowingly or knowingly, something more of themselves to escape the reeking depths of their own personal Tartaurus and made itself known to the world, a part of them, that should never feel the light of day against it and thereby, giving the imperious world the power to judge unfairly what they would never begin to grasp fully.

      Candice tapped her feet nervously and fidgeted with the hem of her suede skirt. They were literally only two blocks away from their destination. The very familiar sight of the flashy sign of ‘Joe’s Watering Hole’ it’s neon coloured lights flashing into the night sky sent unpleasant tingles in her stomach. ‘Maybe this is a very bad idea and I ought to turn around right now!’, she thought to herself and curled her fingers against the palm of her hands.

“Candice. Relax. Please. Everything is going to be perfectly fine.”, Candice sensed a mild irritation in Claire’s voice as she re- assured the blonde for possibly the millionth time that week. A part of Candice felt bad for Claire while the other part was mad at her agent for not understanding why she was panicking.

“I know. But I just can’t stop thinking that this is a very bad idea. What if she doesn’t like my views or my ideologies? What if she wouldn’t want to waste another moment of her life on this book and then all of this will be over. There would be no more e- mails from ‘An Avid Reader’.”, Candice mumbled. Claire turned into the parking lot and as she did she, very discreetly, widened her eyes in exasperation and then schooled her features to profession mode before pulling the gear.

“First of all, I spoke to Naomi personally and she sounded excited and very much interested. Second of all, I don’t think that a woman of such importance would have flown across the country in such a hurry to meet you if she didn’t see something in the story. You want to over- think about something, think about that.”, Claire went for her skull cap which she had placed on the dashboard and wore it before stepping out into the drizzling night. The petite woman with her jet black hair let lose, was glad that it wasn’t pouring any longer like it had been all morning.

      Candice frowned as she stepped out of the car and put on the fedora cap over her head. Claire had a point but it wasn’t enough to satisfy her irrationality. Anxiety and fear were never rational.

“Ok then. I will try to be calm.”, she grumbled as she trudged alongside Claire, who seemed to have an unusual skip in her step today and why not?

      The struggling agent seemed to have finally found her golden egg. Candice was a brilliant writer with a very out of the box thinking. Maybe rough around the edges, but that was alright considering the young blonde wasn’t trained to be a fiction writer. Claire had read some of her short stories. They were absolutely brilliant. A few were crime/suspense and a few were horror or mystery. Claire had first been very intrigued by them when Melanie had first sent them to her but when she met Candice personally for the first time she had been left baffled by the seemingly sweet, soft spoken girl who wrote stories of such dark themes. One would expect such a girl to write stories about life being all about rainbows, fluffy clouds and happy endings. After a few meetings, thou, the gnawing questions were somewhat answered when Candice revealed to her, bits of her past.

      Her past... Reminded of it, Claire felt guilty and looked at Candice as she chewed on her bottom lip, that were swollen already since the blonde had been doing that all day.

“Candice.”, she said silently.

“Hhmm”

“Everything’s alright. I am here for you.”, she promised. Candice looked down at her agent and saw real compassion and something akin to pride.

“Thanks.”, she mumbled as the all too familiar heat began to spread along her cheeks.

“Candice!”, came a nasal voice as soon as the duo stepped in. “Dishi! Come look who’s here.”

      Marie’s excitement attracted other patron’s, at the restaurant, attention making an already antsy Candice to want to pull into the shadows but she pushed her chest slightly forward and tilted her chin marginally up and walked towards their host, Marie Zeng.

      When a short, lumpy man with a prominent limp on his left leg stepped out the large kitchen double doors, only then did Marie let go of Candice from her bear hug. The warm gush of air emerging from the kitchen engulfed the group.

“Candice. Is that you?”, Dishi Zeng was still wiping his hands on a cloth as he walked towards the group. He pulled Candice into a hug and Candice had to slightly bend down to receive him. Dishi was a couple of feet smaller than his pair. They were one of those rare pairs who didn’t make a lot of fuss about each other’s height.

“It’s been so long. So good to see you.”, he said, while his shrewd eyes assessed the woman standing next to Candice.

“It’s nice to see you both as well. This is my friend Claire. Claire, this is Marie and Dishi Zeng. They have been running this hotel for the past twenty years.”, Candice introduced.

      As they interacted some more, with Marie complaining about Dishi’s ever piling waistline, Candice began to feel a little better. The weight of the whole reason, why she was here seemed to lighten a bit in the warmth of the familiar surroundings and Zeng’s.

      Thankfully, Marie and Dishi had put Candice well back in the spacious, L- shaped dining area. Candice sipped at her water and looked around nervously, anticipating the elderly woman.

 “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”, Jake held an umbrella, protecting himself and his mother from the mild drizzles. The umbrella was totally unnecessary, as Naomi had pointed out, but Jake still held it over them.

      He eyed the restaurant dubiously. From the outside it looked just like any other regular establishment but Jake didn’t like it. Or more particularly he didn’t like the last moment change of the venue. Or maybe he just didn’t like this whole idea of his mother planning to meet a faceless author. Jake had tried to look up Lynne Brooks and came up with zilch except for the record of her book and a website of the same. Even the website hadn’t been able to tell much about Lynne Brooks and there weren’t any pictures of her. Not a single one. The whole thing screamed shady to Jake and he didn’t like not knowing what his mother was walking into.

      But Naomi was stubborn. She shooed Jake away and mischievously chastised him for fussing over her as if she were child. Naomi checked her wrist- watch and saw that she was ten minutes late. She hated being late.

“Besides you are already catching people’s attention.”, she quickly placed a kiss on his cheek and walked into the restaurant.

“Ok. Call me. I will come pick you up. And keep your phone in your hand. And don’t...”, Jake would have gone on to recite even more instructions had his mother cared enough to stop and listen. He sighed and just as he saw a group of teenagers approaching him he dashed off towards his car.

      Naomi was met by a cheerful slim and tall woman at the front of the restaurant. Upon mentioning Lynne’s name, she informed that they had already arrived and ushered the elderly lady to the back of the restaurant. With some fascination Naomi admired the interior of the restaurant.

      One look from the outside, no one would have guessed how lovely it would be on the inside. It had just the right amount of lights, with a more sublime Chinese music floating in the air. The simple white washed walls were decked with several photographs. Some looked very old while some looked more recent. Naomi guessed, from the prominent NYU t- shirts and hoodies sported by most in the photos, that they were the many students through the years. She could see in the photos, how much the people owning this place adored the students and vice versa. As she followed the lithe Chinese woman, she wondered if Lynne Brooks was an alumni of NYU.

      Naomi had been searching a fairly recent looking photo wandering if Lynne was in one of these when Marie, as the woman had introduced herself at the reception, came to stop before a table and Naomi turned her attention away from the photos. A petite woman with jet black hair stood up confidently with a beaming smile.

“Ms Achs. It’s such an honour to be finally meet you in person.”, the woman said as she extended her hand forward, which Naomi took in hers immediately. “I am Claire.”

“Oh hello Claire. It’s so nice to meet you too.”, she said and turned to look for the woman she had been wanting to meet.

      For a moment Naomi forgot about everything as she stared at the woman, who stood before her meekly. Her eyes swept from the flowing golden ringlets that framed her enigmatic face to down to her near to perfection figure. The woman before her was, for lack of better words, stunning.

“I am assuming you are Miss Brooks.”, she finally spoke and pulled her into a hug. Why she did that she didn’t know and so did the poor woman, who very awkwardly returned the hug.

      Soon they settled in and their host Marie rushed off to get her drink. All the while Naomi couldn’t stop staring at the gorgeous woman and could barely stop herself from pulling her phone out and calling Jake back to the restaurant. She cussed herself silently for not letting Jake join her when he had offered it.

      While Claire made small talks, the blonde sat quietly sipping at her water and making no more eye contact than necessary. Every time she met Naomi’s gaze, she blushed, gave a small smile and looked away. For some reason Naomi found that endearing.

“So Lynne... Can I call you Lynne?”, Naomi leaned back and took a small sip of her own water.

“Actually Ms Achs I have to tell you something.”, she began and Naomi carefully set the glass back on the table. That voice! Smooth like silk, sweet and soothing as honey, soft and pleasant to listen to.

“What is it dear.”, she coaxed as the young woman looked extremely nervous.

“My name... I mean Lynne Brooks is my pen name. My real name is Candice.”, she replied. Naomi didn’t understand the nervousness. There was nothing wrong in that.

“Oh. That’s alright. Besides, the name Candice sounds more apt to such a beautiful girl as you, if I say so.”, she said. Marie set a glass of Cosmo and then proceeded to take orders.

“So Candice, tell me something about yourself. Are you originally from New York?”, she asked once Marie left.

“No. Actually I am from S--”, Candice stopped herself and looked alarmed. Naomi frowned.

“She’s from Chicago originally.”, Claire smoothly covered for the blonde and Naomi looked between the two.

“Yes. That’s right.”, Candice spoke up and gave a smile. Naomi knew that the smile was to cover something up but didn’t dwell on it.

“Wow! You are a long way from home. What made you chose NYC?”, she continued.

“I moved here to do my PhD from NYU.”, her reply was short and didn’t give much details. Naomi could also notice how much effort the young woman took to answer the questions more carefully.

“Oh. That’s great! So you have a PhD in Creative Writing?”, she asked curiously. Seductively beautiful with brains. Candice couldn’t be single, could she be?

“No.”, there was that blush again. Was she embarrassed? Why? “Clinical Nutrition. I am actually a Nutritionist by profession.”

“Wow! That’s great. Wait so... You aren’t a professional writer?”, Naomi was more curious and fascinated.

“No. I started writing as I was very passionate about it. I never really thought I would actually publish one until I met Claire.”, Naomi could see the spark of enthusiasm enter her mesmerizing blues as she spoke about writing. She truly was passionate, nobody could fake that, Naomi decided.

      After she made this observation, Naomi steered her conversation more to that direction, asking her more and more about her other works. Slowly Candice had loosened up and was slowly opening up, which was good to see. Every new thing she learnt made her more fascinated.

      By the end of the meal Naomi had made up her mind about two things. She was going to make this book into a movie and also Candice was the sort of woman that Jake needed by his side. But, even as she thought these things in her mind, out loud she said,

“Well Candice. I am somewhat convinced by your ideas but I still would like to think over it a little before I come to a final decision. Why don’t we meet for dinner tomorrow night at my place and I can let you know of my decision then.”

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #fanfiction #fiction #romance #mystery #thriller #suspense #not a real story

[theoddcatlady]

Mother of Monsters

Meg could do mostly anything she wanted. Except for two things.

She couldn’t keep a boyfriend. And she couldn’t keep a baby.

We’ve been friends literally since we were crawling, one of those ‘moms were friends so we were friends’ too. But unlike most times when these friendships tend to grow apart, Meg and I were inseparable. As children we were around the same clothing size so our closets were spread between our houses. My mom couldn’t even remember what was mine and what was Meg’s but it didn’t matter. We shared everything from clothes to toys. She was the only one I trusted with Leon the Lion and Meg would go to sleep if she knew that her Hector the Hippo was in my bed safe and sound.

As teens, things did change, but nothing that changed our friendship. I stayed at a solid five feet tall, gained a lot of weight, and was officially diagnosed with dyslexia. School was hard. I turned into a wallflower.

On the other hand, Meg blossomed to be tall, almost modelesque in stature. She aced all her classes, loved the drama club. And everyone loved her.

However, this didn’t change the fact we were best friends. Meg never got a big head, never got upset with me as she tutored me through English and Algebra. Turned down a guy asking her out because he called me a ‘fat pig’. We were still thick as thieves.

Which is why she told me first that she was pregnant.

It was in the school bathroom, right after third period, right before lunch. Our sophomore year. I was trying to clean my glasses while Meg was leaned over the sink, taking several deep breaths as she was trying not to puke. “Still have that flu bug?” I joked.

“No. It’s, um…. it’s morning sickness. I’m pregnant.”

I dropped my glasses and I’m lucky that they didn’t crack. I spun around, eyes wide. “What?” I asked, wondering if she’d gotten a lousy sense of humor over the past twenty four hours.

Meg nodded. “Y-yeah.” She stood up straight. “I’m having a baby, Lynne.”

Those words were the most terrifying I’d ever heard. She opened up after that.

The baby belonged to David, another member of the drama club. I knew they’d gone on a few dates, but I didn’t know things had gone that far. They’d only done it once, after that they agreed it just wasn’t going to work out. Sex was no hurrah, according to her.

But Meg had gone to the doctor’s yesterday and they confirmed what the five pregnancy tests said.

“Are your parents upset?” I remember blurting out.

Meg shrugged. “I mean, a little? Because we didn’t use protection and I didn’t tell them I was interested in becoming sexually active… I don’t know what to tell David. I think though… no, I know I’m going to keep it. Like. No abortion. I’m gonna find a mom and a dad for this baby, and they’ll be happy. I don’t give a shit what people think anyway. My parents are totally in support too… are you, Lynne?”

I hugged Meg tightly. That was my answer. I’d always support my best friend.

We didn’t have time to find a new mommy and daddy though. Just the next week, Meg miscarried.

Meg was shattered. I was too. We cried together for months.

But Meg was strong. Meg grew stronger. And by her senior year she had a new boyfriend, and a new baby inside of her when she graduated. But things went to shit once again. She miscarried, and he took off. Dickhead.

This became a cycle that was painful to witness. Meg would find a guy, get pregnant despite whatever measures were taken, and they’d break it off as she miscarried. I suppose that’s why she got used to it, I don’t know how many times she got pregnant and lost the child. I was always there though, even as we grew into adulthood. I became a cashier at the fish market, saving up for college. Meg got a job at the insurance company one of her exes worked at, a job nice enough to buy her childhood house as her parents had moved to Florida. No use for a three bedroom house when it’s just you and your partner after all.

Then when she was twenty five she told me she was engaged.

I liked her new dude, I suppose, Craig- he had a good job at the bank. Really solid. Of course I had to ask though.

“Meg, are you pregnant this time?”

Meg winked.

“Not yet. Come over next week- I want you to try on your dress. You’re going to be beautiful.”

I squealed and jumped up and down. I was going to be Meg’s maid of honor. I’d always dreamed of that day. To be standing next to her while she was at the altar. I practically danced around the market while I waited for her to call me and tell me when I could come over.

I went over on Friday after I showered, I didn’t want to smell like fish while trying on my new dress. For hours I stressed over what color would it be? It wouldn’t be pink, Meg wasn’t that crazy about pink. Maybe a deep red, or a rich plum. If it was a spring wedding, I wouldn’t put it past her to pick pastel green.

Meg answered the door in a fluffy green bathrobe. Her hair was all done up and she was grinning. “Get in here!” She said before pulling me inside.

I hadn’t been in this house for a long time, if I’m honest. Normally when Meg and I hung out it was at my apartment or someplace in public. It hadn’t changed much, minus modernizing of the furniture. I walked to the corner where Meg and I used to measure ourselves as kids. Meg’s dad would make a mark over our heads on each birthday and we’d see how much we’d grown over the past year.

I ran my finger over the mark that was still the same height as I was now. Good times. So long ago. Then I looked at the opposing corner to see dozens of more marks. I frowned. We hadn’t ever measured ourselves over there, had Meg’s brother been measured there instead?

When I knelt beside the marks, I started making out the names.

‘Lillie’.

‘Denny’.

‘Ebony’.

‘Emery’.

‘Theo’.

‘Judy’.

“Hey, did someone live here after your parents?” I asked before I turned around.

Meg was holding up the dress bag. “Go, try it on, I think I got your measurements right. You lost like five pounds right?” She asked.

“Eh, seven, but I put three back on,” I took the bag and peered in. I frowned. “… Meg? This is your dress.”

“Nope! Mine’s in the other room.” She grinned and bounced from her heels to her toes, something she always did while excited.

“Then the shop must’ve screwed up, this can’t be my dress,” I said, trying to push it back into her hands.

She pushed it back and shook her head.

“No. I know it’s yours. I already checked.”

In a trance, I walked into the bathroom and put on the dress.

The white, lace dress.

It was perfect. One I’d want to wear at my wedding, a fact Meg knew. We’d been shopping for wedding dresses since we were twelve.

Feeling the victim of a cruel joke, I walked out, ready to tear Meg a new one.

The living room was empty, but I could hear music playing from the basement. ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. Again, the exact wedding march I’d confided in Meg that I would want. I balled up my fists and prepared to march right out the door. This wasn’t funny. Meg could go to hell if she thought it was.

“Hello!”

I looked down the hall, the door to the basement.

A little boy, probably nine or ten, was peering from the door. His amber eyes were almost glowing in the dark.

“Come on! Momma’s ready! Momma’s ready!”

The door slammed shut.

Momma? Now someone had put too much effort into this prank. I was ready to punch Meg when I saw her next. I went to the door, opened it back up, and walked down the stairs. I pulled up the skirt to make sure I wouldn’t trip.

The lights wouldn’t turn on, a fact that didn’t surprise me. The switch at the top of the stairs was always finicky. I didn’t have my phone for light either since this dress didn’t have pockets. So I just had to step very, very carefully.

I set my hand on one of the Halloween decorations to steady myself when lights on the floor snapped on, fairy lights for Christmas.

I was standing at the beginning of the aisle, and at the end was Meg, in her own perfect wedding gown. She looked so stunning, the sight took my breath away.

“Can you take your hand off of me, please?”

I gasped as my hand tore away, ready to apologize.

The gargoyle had spoken. At least I think it looked like a gargoyle. Twisted features, sharp chin, demonic eyes. I went pale. I nearly screamed.

But I heard Meg giggle quietly.

“Emery, don’t scare her.”

Emery shuffled his clawed feet and mumbled an apology. This jerked me into walking to the front in quite a hurry. As my eyes adjusted to the low light, I could make out more. Children with horns, children with fangs, all sorts of monstrous children.

I was shaking by the time I reached the end, now feeling safer by Meg. “Who… who are all…” I stammered. I couldn’t make it out.

“They’re my children, Lynne.”

I looked around the room in shock. I spotted the amber eyed boy, he waved a scaled hand and blinked with clear eyelids. “But you’ve never had kids, Meg! You’ve always miscarried!” I blurted out.

Meg shook her head no. “Not exactly. I’m not quite sure why it’s worked out this way. But by the first or second month, they’re usually ready to be born. It’s not really a miscarriage, it’s labor. At first my parents let me believe my first child was miscarried, I’d passed out. But then I heard him crying.” She looked at the amber eyed child with such a smile, and I realized they did have the same eyes. “My parents called him Dennis, I just call him my lil Denny. They were debating on what to do with him, my lil scaly boy. But I made sure I kept him. People wouldn’t look past the scales when it came to adoption.”

Denny’s slitted tongue zipped out as he waved. I awkwardly waved back. I looked around the room. “So, all of these are yours?” I asked. I knew she’d been pregnant quite a bit but I didn’t know the extent.

“Yup!” Meg looked proud. “They’re pretty independent by a few months in. Their fathers don’t understand though. I don’t love them either… not how I love you.”

That was a punch to the gut. My head slowly shook no. “Meg, you don’t love me. You… you would’ve said something!” My voice cracked.

Meg rested her hand on my own. “I wanted to be sure. But it’s always been you Lynne. Always. Every time I gave birth, I always thought how you’d be a good mother to them all. You’d read them bedtime stories, play pretend, feed them… it’d be my dream!” I saw tears forming in her eyes and she clutched my hand so hard it nearly hurt.

This was insane. I’d never even bothered to tell Meg I was a lesbian, I figured it just never needed to be officially said. I looked around. “What about Craig?” I asked. They’d been pretty serious.

Meg’s grip on my hand loosened before she rested it on her belly. “… He did his part. I’m pregnant again, Lynne. He’s already out of the picture. The children need to be fed, after all. What should we name this one? I think it’ll be a girl.”

The name slipped out before I could stop it.

“Lenore. We… we should name her Lenore.”

#horror stories #scary stories #writers on tumblr #sixpenceee stories #creative writing #my stories

[halfabreath]

I wish you would write a fic where: Ransom is a team physician and Holster is a referee. (They first met on the ice during a particularly physical Aces v. Falcs game?)

Prompt Free For All, Accepting until Sept. 1st! This fill brought to you by @omgpieplease‘s amazing Holsom sketchpage and ref!Holster sketches. 

Justin Oluransi, MD, has a complicated relationship with his job. One one level, he loves it. There’s something so pure about the rush of adrenaline when he has to run onto the ice and assess a situation. He loves hockey and he loves helping people, and being the team physician for the Providence Falconers allows him to do both. There’s just one part of his job that he hates: he’s only called in when something terrible happens. Fighting is expected - he’s sewn up more busted lips and tracked down more teeth than he can count - but injuries are always horrible to witness.

As much as Justin loves his job it’s never fun to see a player go down, especially now that he’s gotten to know the Falconers individually. It had been a little easier to watch them go down when he was still terrified to speak to them for fear of embarrassing himself (in his first conversation with Tater all he’d managed to say was hello and goodbye), but now that he counts them as friends instead of colleagues every time he rushes onto the ice there’s a heavy dread sitting in the pit of his stomach.

Justin’s particularly busy whenever the Aces come to town. He’s not sure what it is about the Aces and Falconers, but guys who aren’t at all prone to fighting tend to end up in the worst scrapes of all whenever their paths cross. It’s so bad that he’s kept even closer to the ice than usual, tucked almost on the bench itself instead of back in the halls underneath the stands. It’s only because of this vantage point that he sees him.

He’d be difficult to miss, actually. He’s taller than most of the players and is just as broad, his clear, blue eyes visible even from behind the low brow of his helmet. He’s stationed himself on center ice, arms crossed, looking as relaxed as he is threatening. He raises a thick eyebrow whenever one of the players gets too close to someone on the opposing team as if he’s just waiting for one of them to make trouble. It wouldn’t be entirely unprecedented - there had been a fight not five minutes into the first period of the last Falcs/Aces game because of a taunt thrown across the ice during warm ups.

As Justin watches, Kent Parson skates right up to the ref, all brash confidence and an easy smile. He can’t hear what they’re saying over the din of the crowd and the constant scraping and clacking from the players warming up, but after a few moments of talking the ref’s expression has shifted from an unimpressed eye roll to a sly grin to a broad smile. They’re chirping, Justin realizes.

“Hey,” he nudges the closest blue and white uniform with his elbow; it’s Tater, who’s holding onto the bench as he stretches. “There’s a new referee?” Tater straightens up, glancing over at the exchange happening at center ice.

“New here, yes!” Alexi confirms. “I see him at Bruins games, hear he moved to Providence. I introduce now.” He decides with one definitive nod. Before Justin can protest he’s waving his arm, calling out to the ref.

“Birkholtz! You start conspiracy with rat? In my house?” The ref laughs, a booming sound Justin can hear over the cacophony of the stadium, as Parson rolls his eyes and skates back to his teammates. The ref glides over, a wide smile still on his face.

“Hey, none of that now. I’ve decided that you have to wait at least a full ten minutes before starting a fight this time.” The ref claps a big hand on Tater’s shoulder, friendly and familiar. Now that he’s close Justin can see that he and Tater are the same height and his cheeks somehow start burning despite the icy air in the rink.

“Me? Fight? Never.” Tater’s words would hold a little more weight if he wasn’t currently sporting the green and yellow remnants of the black eye he’d gotten in a fight not two games ago. Birkholtz raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, then looks over at Justin with the same expression.

“Can you believe this guy?” He asks, and his voice is warm as his eyes are blue and Justin wasn’t prepared for this at all. He smiles, matching Birkholtz’ expression.

Justin shakes his head and reaches out to shove Tater playfully. The Russian glides back a few inches, twisting his body to act like he’s just received a tragic blow. “No, not since he lied to me about his cold symptoms so he could play against the Stars last month. He lied to his doctor.” Tater just shrugs, shamess, and the referee gasps dramatically.

Birkholtz claps his hand to his chest, looking at Tater with horrified amazement. “You’ve lied to a medical professional? Mashkov, I am aghast.” Justin laughs just as Tater waves them off and skates away to join his teammates. The ref turns his attention to Justin, his dramatic expression shifting into a small smile. He sticks out his hand and Justin clasps it firmly. “Adam Birkholtz, professional athlete wrangler.”

“Justin Oluransi, and same.” He replies, pumping Adam’s hand. It’s rare for Justin to find someone bigger than he is, but Adam’s hand feels huge wrapped around his. Adam leans in conspiratorially, entering Justin’s space easily.

“Yeah, but you get to hang out on the bench. I have to run around out there with the kiddos.” He thumbs over his shoulder, gesturing loosely to the players circling behind him. His face is lit up in the same grin as when he was chirping Parson.

Justin scoffs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “I was in school for like a thousand years - I think I deserve a break now.” He hesitates before continuing, but he can’t keep the words in. “Besides, all that running around agrees with you.” Adam looks up at him in surprise but his expression quickly shifts into an easy smile. He opens his mouth, about to respond when a stream of Falconers fly past them, making their way into the tunnels. Adam winks at him and shoots him with a pair of honest-to-God pair of finger guns before skating backwards to join the other referee. Justin rolls his eyes but points his finger at him, popping his lips as he pulls it back in a quick shooting motion. Adam laughs and banks smoothly, pulling up beside the other officials. Justin watches them talk until the lights dim and the equipment manager needs him to move so he can set up the spare sticks.

Watching the Aces play the Falcs is usually stressful, but with Adam out there it’s almost fun. He jokes with players from both teams to set them at ease and chirps them relentlessly, sometimes in the same breath as calling penalties. Refs are supposed to go unnoticed but Justin can’t keep his eyes off him.

Between the second and third periods Justin’s standing by the boards, watching Marty strech to make sure he’s not hiding an injury from the hard check he took just before the buzzer sounded. There’s a burst of cool air behind him and suddenly there’s a large, striped presence at his side.

“Doc O,” Adam greets. He smiles down at Justin, one thick eyebrow raised flirtatiously.

“Ref Birkholtz,” Justin replies, turning to face him. They’re standing close together, Adam’s height exaggerated by the skates, and they’re literally surrounded by thousands of people but it feels like it’s just the two of them. “Enjoying the game?”

“Always,” Adam’s gaze travels around the rink, a fond smile on his face even after his eyes land back on Justin. “But keeping the kids in line? Not so much. They’re really going at it tonight.”

Justin sighs, nodding in agreement. “I know. I’ve got my exam room prepped for any outcome. Did you know there’s a sixty seven percent chance someone’s going to lose a tooth tonight?” Calculating the exact chances of injury and peril is always a part of his pregame ritual and tonight’s figures had caused him to put in an order for extra gauze and rubber gloves.

“How do you know that?” Adam asks in amazement. “Knowing shit like that would make my job so much easier.”

Justin shrugs and leans in conspiratorially. “I kind of calculated it myself in Excel? It makes my job easier, too.” He still has to speak loudly to be heard over the crowd but he doesn’t want his Excel habit getting out if he can’t help it. He’s not even sure why he’s told Adam but there’s something welcoming about him Justin can’t explain. Despite only having met Adam less than an hour ago, Justin knows it’s safe to confide in him. They talk about the odds of Jack completing the last goal of a hat trick and jokingly throw numbers back and forth until the buzzer sounds and Adam has to skate to center ice to drop the puck and begin the last period.

Things go inexplicably well for the first fifteen minutes. Sure, there’s roughing and high sticking (He hears Adam say “You know what, fuck both you guys, let’s go,” before he literally drags Troy and Guy to the penalty box) but by some miracle Justin gets to stay by the bench. He’s even so relaxed he pulls out his phone to inspect his Google Sheets for any inaccuracies in his calculations when the dull roar of the crowd becomes an all-encompassing barrage of sound. Screaming like that means one of two things: a goal or a fight, and there aren’t any sirens sounding.

When he looks up Jack’s circling Anatoly Kuragin, one of the Aces defensemen. When Jack gets a good punch in and sends Kuragin reeling back the Russian tears off his own helmet and leaps at him. Kuragin tackles Jack to the ice and the noise increases tenfold. It’s a dirty move and all twenty thousand people in the arena know it. Adam joins the fray as he attempts to pull Kuragin back, but Justin’s distracted from the noise and the anger boiling in his own stomach by a smear of red on the ice.

Justin’s vaulting over the boards the moment he sees the blood and he kneels by Jack to check him over quickly. He looks dazed but he’s not bleeding and he easily answers the flurry of questions Justin throws at him. By the time Jack’s back on his feet his eyes are clear, narrowed and cold as he glares at the Ace. When Justin follows his gaze he sees Adam holding Kuragin in a chokehold and it’s suddenly clear where the blood came from.

Justin may have swore an oath to Do No Harm but when he sees the red streaming down Adam’s face he has to tighten his grip on Jack’s jersey to keep from punching Kuragin himself. The linesmen take over and wrestle Kuragin over to the penalty box as the crowd cheers but the sound fades to a dull roar when Justin hurries over to Adam’s side. He steers him towards the dressing room, pushing him carefully off the ice and through the tunnel. Staff members swarm around them but Justin keeps his hands firmly on Adam’s shoulders and Adam, for his part, goes exactly where Justin guides him.

When they reach the exam room Adam carefully removes his helmet and hops up on the table, but Justin has to push past equipment manages and people that are cluttering up his exam room with their presence.

“If you’re not going to be helpful, then get the fuck out.” He shoves a wayward intern to the side and slams the box of wipes on the exam table. Justin glares at the staff hovering around them and they all trickle out of the exam room. When he turns back to his patient Adam has his head tilted up, a thick stream of blood trickling down the pale column of his throat.

It’s not hot, because Adam’s hurt and his brows are pinched together in a telltale sign of pain, but Justin has to admit there’s something beautiful about him even under the harsh florescent lights.

Justin snaps on a pair of gloves and wipes the blood on Adam’s throat away carefully. Adam’s surprisingly still beneath his hands, his only movements the quick rise and fall of his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Justin works his way up Adam’s throat, to his jaw, to his lips and finally to his nose. He examines it for a moment, gently turning Adam’s head this way and that, feeling around until his suspicions are confirmed.

“Well, your whole face is broken.” His tone make Adam smile, revealing his red-stained teeth. Justin winces and tugs Adam in to make sure all his teeth are still there. He pulls Adam’s upper lip up unceremoniously, opening his mouth wider to check his molars. It’s hard to believe he’s currently running his gloved fingers over the gums of the man he’d been flirting with not two hours ago. Adam’s clearly thinking along the same lines, shoulders shaking as he tries to hold in his laughter. It spills out when Justin finally removes his fingers from his mouth, stepping away to change gloves.

“Kuragin caught me with his elbow. I bet you don’t think all that running around agrees with me now.” Adam jokes. There’s blood on his teeth and his nose is red and clearly bent out of shape, but he’s smiling nevertheless. When Justin has the new gloves on he steps between Adam’s knees, reaching up to cup his face to his head to the side in order to examine his profile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Justin murmurs, running his fingers along Adam’s jaw. He lingers, letting the words hang between them before guiding Adam’s head back down. They’re eye to eye and Adam’s blatantly staring at his lips. It takes all his self control to step away but he lets one hand fall to Adam’s knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m going to have to reset your nose.” He explains, all joking aside. Adam’s smile dims for a moment as he raises a hand to gently touch his own face, wincing when he pokes the fracture directly. Justin grabs his hand before he can inadvertently hurt himself again.

Adam glances down at their joined hands, the corner of his lips raising in a crooked little smile. “You don’t think this is a good look?” He asks, squeezing Justin’s hand once before pulling away.

“I like your face better the way it was.” Justin admits, shooting at Adam’s face with the same finger gun the ref had used on him before.

Adam chuckles, low and throaty. “So you do like my face.”

“Yeah, Adam. I like your face.” Justin places his thumbs along the sides of Adam’s nose, feeling carefully to determine exactly where the fracture is. Adam’s about to reply and Justin figures now is a good time as any. He applies a sharp pressure to the right side of Adam’s nose, mouth set in a grim line as he sets the cartilage back into place.

Adam’s expression twists into a pained grimace. “Holy fucking hell, what the actual god damn fuck? Fuck me!” His voice, already so loud in the crowded rink, fills the small exam room completely. He jerks back but Justin holds him firmly in place, refusing to let go until his nose is back where it should be. Adam grits his teeth, blue eyes squeezing shut in pain until Justin finally releases him.

He shudders, letting out a shaky sigh. Justin places a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing the muscle gently until the tension bleeds away.

“I’m assuming you want to go back out there?” Justin asks quietly, entirely unsurprised by the answering nod he receives.

Adam brushes his fingertips over the bridge of his nose, lips twisting in a small grimace. “You know it. Someone’s gotta keep those assholes in line.” He shrugs, smiling that crooked smile Justin’s becoming so fond of.

Justin sends him back into the fray with a full face shield attached to his helmet, a splint taped over his nose, and his number written on the back of Adam’s hand.

Two weeks later they’re standing outside Justin’s apartment building after their third date. Justin’s cradling Adam’s face in his hands, thumbs gently pressing along the sides of his almost healed nose.

“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?” Justin asks, trying and failing to concentrate when Adam’s hands settle on his hips. The bruising had faded days ago but Justin’s not about to break Adam’s nose again with his own face.

Adam doesn’t reply but he leans in close, brushing their lips together in a light almost-kiss. Justin smooths his thumbs under Adam’s eyes, across his cheeks until he’s cupping the taller man’s jaw in his hands.

“See?” Adam murmurs into the small space between them. “I have the best doctor in the United States and Canad - mmhm.” Justin’s already sealed their lips together, unable to keep from kissing him a second longer. His fingertips skate along Adam’s strong jaw, turning him this way and that. Adam pulls him close, winding an arm around his waist.

It’s worth the wait.

#ya know its not my best but it's not my worst #ref!holster #holsom fanfic #omgcp #providence falconers #las vegas aces #kent parson #jack zimmermann #omgcp fanfic #August pffa #anyway i don't feel great about this but it's all i can do right now so here we go #noel writes

[lupusmedicorum]

“Doctor Reyes!” Nichole immediately recognized the voice and the sing-song tone her name was called. Detective Larieka Kennedy strolled into her lab office as if she owned the place. When Nikki didn’t even own the place, she shared it with three other people in the fellowship program.

 One of those people, actually, was also present. He was a slip of a man. Sean Lewis had to be older than Nikki, but he looked all of fifteen. Taller than her, of course, most people were, he was about the same height as Kennedy and looked to be about average weight. Not much muscle. That combined with his thick rectangle hipster glasses he constantly pushed up the bridge of his nose, his look was qualified the ‘intellectual’ stereotype. Nichole hadn’t talked to him much yet. She hadn’t been here long, after all.

 Apparently she didn’t have to worry about her friend coming to visit making a bad impression because the second he turned his head up in their direction, his brows climbed up, completely clearing the frames of his glasses. His eyes, the clean pastel blue of an ‘it’s a boy!’ announcement, sparkled. Grin slowly growing on his face. It was charming, boyishly, and Larieka immediately laughed.

 “Don’t even give me a line, kid, out of your league.” His grin didn’t even fade and Nikki knew she needed to round this up, quickly.

 “What can I do for you Detective Kennedy?” She impressed the importance of her title, hopefully reminding all involved that this wasn’t a place for social engagement.

 “Come to lunch, for one.” Kennedy apparently had found an audience, she winked, and Nichole wanted to roll her eyes.

 “Go ahead, it’s almost break anyways. You do eat, right?” He hadn’t seen her eat? How was that possible? He had just brought in lunch for everyone yesterday. That Italian place that used too much oregano. When she turned a skeptical glance at him she realized he was still grinning, a little crooked. Making a joke she didn’t get, most likely. Larieka apparently had no need to ply her with jokes, she just used brute force. Pulling her by the arm out of her seat in a very distinctive cop-like manner.

 “Whatever this is can wait.” The file folder of X-Rays in her hands was plucked out of her grip and deposited neatly on her desk. Just before Nikki skittered out the door, dragged by Kennedy, the spectacled Lewis patted her on the back. Strangely fond.

 “Have fun, Reyes! Kennedy, a pleasure!”

 ~

 “So, he’s cute. The Fellow squint.”  Nichole did roll her eyes this time. Trying not to fidget in the passenger seat of the ‘unmarked’ black Dodge Charger that Kennedy was using this week.

“Can we not?”

“He looks young..”

“He looks twelve.” Nikki snapped back, already beyond tired of this conversation. Larieka was as bad as her mama.

“More like- late teens.”

“Not legal.”

“Nah, definitely jailbait.” The detective laughed, already pulling out into traffic onto Bob Hope.

“You’re the one who said he was cute.”

“I’m trying to inspire you..”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Of course you don’t.” Kennedy sighed, heavily dramatic. Then switched gears, literally and metaphorically.

 “So, wha’d you need to talk about?” Nichole snapped her head around, finally giving her attention to the conversation. That oh-so-familiar light in her eyes that proved she’d just been triggered with some brilliant thought. Kennedy always enjoyed that look. Part inspiration, part determination, all genius.

 “I think I have a lead on the golf course case.”

 “What?!” Larieka almost slipped the clutch. Rapidly flipping her eyes over to her friend and to the road.

 “Yeah, I think it’s an animal. Big.” She would wait to tell her the rest, when they were safely parked somewhere.

 The detective gave a nod and a purse of her lips that twisted the edges just a bit. Fair enough, they were already considering that anyway. Larieka Kennedy was about the only real friend Nichole Reyes had ever had that wasn’t a member of her family. Definitely one that’s lasted longer than any others. They were going on about five years, and had kept in touch dutifully. Even when their schedules were packed with classes, tests, papers, and work shifts, they somehow touched base at least weekly.

 The detective was the product of the melting pot at its finest. Gorgeous. Her mother had been Cuban-American and her father was African-American. She called herself Afro-latina, and she didn’t give a damn who didn’t like it. Tall, five-foot-nine, a perfectly bronze, dark beige skin tone that made her look professionally sun kissed all the time. Slender and naturally athletic, she was exactly what Nichole had wanted to be while she was awkwardly struggling through middle and high school. Kennedy said her mother had moved out west when she was a kid, and she didn’t hear from her much. She wrote it off, but every now and then Nikki could catch the sadness of it in her eyes. The Reyes’ family had adopted Larieka as their own the first moment Nichole brought her home, her Mama feeding whatever void she could with good food and tight hugs and pressed cheeks. Sucking it up like a starved flower, the woman flourished under their care. That combined with the tough independent streak her father, a highway patrol officer, now retired, had engendered into her. She was a dangerous woman.

 They pulled into a little place not far from the Department,  El Cortijo Café, a place Kennedy was fairly familiar with, she’d been settled in Miami for quite a while.

 The moment the emergency break was yanked up, Larieka turned on her friend, expectant. Looked like they weren’t eating until Nichole filled her in on the details. She didn’t tell first, she showed first, popping off her seatbelt and twisting so she could pull up the lightweight shirt she wore today. The slash was clearly visible, shining with the hardened glue, surrounded in a red and purplish bruise.

 “What the hell? Nikki!” The woman lurched forward, as if she could do something, but stopped short of actually touching.

 “It’s fine. This animal came out of nowhere on my porch last night. Fin heard it, so I went out with the bat. But it was huge ‘Rika. It had to be the same thing that got ahold of that guy. The cuts are the same!”

 Larieka stared, slack jawed, praying that her friend didn’t actually seem.. eager about this. “No, Nikki, no freakin way. No! You are not wildin’ out over this!”

 “I’m not! –I don’t even know what that means!” Nichole huffed, tugging her shirt back into place. “I’m not doing anything! I just wanted to see if you would loan me a gun, maybe give me a lesson? Just in case!” She added when Larieka’s eyes grew even wider with those words.

 Pulling back, tucking in her chin, she observed her with an upwards glance that screamed ‘skeptical’. A couple beats passed before she finally settled on a smile, relaxing all at once.

 “Alright. If that’s all it is. Just defense, no going crazy, truth hunting, ‘cause I know you!” Dark brows rose, questioning, until Nichole shook her head. She kept her mouth shut though, because she couldn’t outright lie to her friend. She just couldn’t.

 “Do you want me to come bunk-up with you a couple nights?” Nichole immediately recognized that flash of flame in her friends dark walnut eyes. A spark that would erupt into a conflagration at the first sign of threat. Some frat guy had unhooked a girls bra at a party once, completely unwanted and unwarranted. Just because she was standing in front of him. Kennedy had crossed the distance with almost inhuman speed, leaping a couch in the process, and landed a perfectly formed right jab square into his nose. Afterwards she ‘escorted’ him out. Nikki had grown up with three brothers and countless cousins and had never seen anything so protective or badass in her life.

 “No, that’s alright, I’ll just stay in tonight.” Which, was.. technically true. But she still felt the leaden weight of guilt settle in her gut, she had never lied to Kennedy, and should not be thinking of her new neighbor. She wasn’t going to bring him up. He didn’t want to be a part of this narrative, and she couldn’t give away too many details, Kennedy might drive her straight to Jackson Behavioral and have her checked into a padded room.

 They both moved to exit the car at nearly the same time, making their way towards the small rectangular building of orange painted concrete stucco. Blue awnings and dark green potted ferns grew from one side almost organically. One of the awnings proudly proclaiming the little breakfast/lunch spot’s name in white letters.

 Nichole ordered something she could get served in paper, since the styrofoam take-out containers were so bad for the environment, and Larieka ended up ordering the same with a charmed tilt to her lips, appeasing her friend.

 They ate outside, the inside didn’t have seating, on one of the iron patio tables and matching chairs. Chatting while they ate. As usual, Larieka was completely on point on exactly where to find the best food in a four block radius. Police officer secrets.

 “So, what doya think it was?” She nodded at Nikki’s side, taking a way too big bite of her fish, Nichole tilted her head and just blinked slow for a moment. It was so similar to the way she’d watched Will take his bites the night before.

 “I don’t know.. It was.. dark. But it was really big. I thought it was a bear, maybe. But bears aren’t so normally that aggressive are they?”

 “Could have been rabid. Didn’t bite you did it?”

 “Rabies can actually be transferred through scratches and bites. Scratches just aren’t as common because they would have to contain saliva to infect.”

 “Good to know.” Larieka agreed and nodded, like she normally did when her best friend spouted facts she didn’t ask for. “But that means you should get it checked out, right?”

 “Yeah, I can do a quick blood sample spin at the lab.”

 “Gonna get the cute one to help you?” Larieka shot back, complete with a waggle of her eyebrows.

[prize-winning-conker]

Speaking of that daft column, it’s now more an essay, but ehh. He’s given me free reign so may as well make it count and make sure I upset someone. Think it’s done so have it early...

I was eight years old and in hospital, the cliché picture with a band aid on forehead and arm in splint. Mom hadn’t sat the entire time she’d been at my bedside - all three hours to that point. Lovingly fretting, you ask? Nope. Glaring down at me. I knew she was, her arms were folded and her weight shifted from one foot to the other as her exasperation grew, but I hadn’t dared to look all the way up to check. Eventually she cracked. 

“What have I told you?” 

That day would be the first time my mom’s most important lesson made sense to me, though it would take a number of years for me to fully absorb it. 

We were at recess. A group of classmates pulled me to one side. Their frisbee had got stuck in the tree, too high for anyone to throw a ball and knock. Could you fetch it for us? I wasn’t sure, it was pretty high and far out on the branch. But you know how to climb trees, they said, you climb the highest and fastest out of everyone. Won’t you help? It’s not fair if you don’t, you only need to shake the branch a little... They had a point. I was the best, and it wouldn’t be hard for me to do. They wouldn’t get it back that recess otherwise, so I agreed with a smile. 

It was high up. Even with my speed, by the time I reached the branch in question the gaggle of classmates had swollen to half the playground cheering me on, finally attracting the attention of horrified teachers. One called out, I panicked at their tone and slipped, slamming my head on a branch and landing with one arm outstretched futilely to break my fall. 

Apparently I went thud. I don’t remember that last part, though my classmates would argue over the exact noise for a week. I do remember being pinned to a board in the back of an ambulance, trying to get the paramedics to understand my mom was going to kill me if she found out. Too late, they said, she was on her way to the hospital. She’ll be there already, I said, to which they laughed. They stopped with a choke when they opened the back of the ambulance and there she was, glowering up at me with her jaw set. That was the last time I would look her in the eye for the next few hours. 

We said nothing to each other, save her sharp ‘well?’ when I was expected to answer a question she couldn’t. I passed through the hands of baffled trauma teams then X-ray staff to the children’s ward doctors. They could find nothing wrong with me other than a mild concussion, an associated graze, and a sprained wrist from my failed attempt to completely break my fall. I was very lucky, they repeatedly told me, I should have been killed from that height. I was to stay in overnight for observation. I guess they thought they’d missed something. After checking me over for the umpteenth time the final doctor left, then our stubborn battle began in earnest. 

I’m not sure why she caved first for once. Maybe because the other adults were doting on their poorly kids and glancing over like she had two heads, or because some of the other inmates were whispering about the chill in the air as her eyes bored into my skull. Most likely she knew Dad’s imminent arrival would undermine whatever lesson she had planned, his hugs and kisses ruining the gravitas, so she started as though I’d made a noise first.

“What have I told you?” 

It wasn’t a riddle. We’d talk after every episode of my favourite superhero cartoons, each time my Uncle appeared on TV as The Great Saiyaman, when I’d slip and call the martial arts and ki-techniques she was teaching me ‘superpowers’. Her mantra formed the closing lines of the bedtime stories of my parents’ hard-won battles.

You always have a choice, she’d say. But she didn’t understand, I did choose! It made sense to help. I was the best at climbing and was the only one who-- She grabbed my chin in one hand, forcing me to look her in the eye, her usual move when she wanted her words to stick. I think that’s when she got reported for her unorthodox parenting style, but that’s another story.

“That isn’t giving yourself a choice. You don’t have to risk yourself to help anyone, do you understand me?” 

I now appreciate why my mother was so vexed that day. It wasn’t at me, more it was with herself at not hammering home the message hard enough and soon enough. 

There’s a painful double standard in the world. We tell our kids to have big dreams and to do what makes them happiest, but the moment a child shows aptitude for something society finds useful they’re cajoled and pushed. Dare to take a different path and the interrogation become endless. I don't understand, the people say, you’re so talented, why didn't you follow your ideal career? Didn’t you want to be rich, or successful, or famous, or powerful? You could have been someone. We had such high hopes. If I were you… Those words sting, no matter the context or love with which they’re said. I’ve heard them a lot the past few days from confused colleagues and I don’t expect that to stop as the news filters out. 

Like all parents in some respects, my mom was fretting over whether she was doing the right thing. On the one hand her teaching would grant me immunity to most of life’s dangers. When my training was finished forget a fall, I could get hit by a truck and not budge an inch. On the other those same abilities would put me in the position to help when no one else could. If found out I would become a commodity to society, it would be deemed unreasonable and even irresponsible of me to decline to help and I'd be trapped. Even at that young age people were already tugging at my sleeves demanding small but potentially dangerous things. Like climbing trees. They’d sensed how easily my arm was twisted and over the years the pleading escalated. I’d see their distress and agree to help with that smile. Fetching balls from busy roads. Standing up to bullies. Chasing down a friend’s stolen phone - the mugger could have turned a gun on me at any point but I did as I was asked by my friend’s wordless yell. After all, who else right then and there could have help her?

Before I could blink I had a reputation. Classmates questioned why I wanted to go to college to write and not follow my dad into the police force, or even register to be a Crimefighter. Some were even angry. You’d be so good, so famous, I bet you’d be the best! You have so much potential - you shouldn’t waste it! I don’t understand - if I were you… I’d hidden as much of my training as I could and yet because I was so easily swayed to see the ‘common sense’ in helping they knew I was capable of something more than them. Escaping the path then dictated to me by society took a strength of will I would never have gained if it wasn’t for my family’s unwavering support. Without it I may have gone on to do my ‘duty’, that smile still plastered on my face, and hated every moment.

I may have sworn off a life of crime-fighting but I couldn’t turn my back completely. My closest friends, far more gifted in this arena than myself, went through the same struggle. We didn’t want the attention or the pressure of daily Hero work, we wanted a normal life to cling to. But we’re human to a fault - we couldn’t ignore all the world’s troubles. So instead we Shadowed, the best compromise we stumbled upon. We could move freely through the world as mere citizens, helping when we chose - not when summoned. Expectation still dogged us, though. When out the public saw my all-blacks not as a way to conceal my identity but as a uniform, a promise to help. They’d hide behind me, just like they would any named Hero or Crimefighter. I may have been free to come and go but in the moment my station was not. 

Shadowing came with a price; without an identity we lack a voice in defence and we became an easy target. We receive praise but it’s sparing, quite rightly the bulk is reserved for the plain-clothed volunteers on the ground. But once, where we were a welcome boost to the effort, nowadays our presence at disasters is expected. We’d fallen into doing our ‘duty’, though not correctly as we had the audacity to hide our faces and not give the journalists a sporting chance to hunt us down, and it drew their ire. I’d have to bite my tongue reading colleagues disparage us across the pages and even I couldn’t write too empathetically, lest my identity and connections become obvious. At times the lack of public understanding drove me to tears. Yet as the years passed Mom continued to stare me down. You still have a choice. But I did choose, I wasn’t a Hero really, I just needed to stay a little longer next time. Be more thorough, be faster. Do that then it’d be okay, people would be satisfied. She’d shake her head.

Then the true insignificance of this noise I’d been bending over backwards to placate became stupidly obvious with the arrival of something far worse than some natural disaster. For the briefest of moments the nonsense fell away, and I finally understood her.

Imagine standing in front of a man thousands of times more powerful than you could ever be. He’s willing to let you and the people you care about live if you just stepped aside. “What’s worth saving,” he says, “who here is worth dying for?” Imagine wondering, after days of headlines trashing you for a mistake you were more than capable of beating yourself up over, whether there even was a point to trying anymore. Nothing would ever be enough. You could leave, you could be safe. You’re not obligated to save the ingrates on this rock time and time again. What difference could your puny ass make, anyway? Why risk your life for literally nothing? Those you care about would understand. You even plan, your foot twitches to move. 

You should walk away.

But you don’t.

Because it’s your home he wants and you’ll be damned if you’re handing it over.

And that’s what my mom meant by making a free choice. Not to act because you’re asked or shamed or want to please everyone, but because this time you think it’s the right thing to do, even for selfish reasons. Especially for selfish reasons. Screw duty, unbeholden to anyone you choose to act - whether it conforms to noble expectation or not. Mom may be the type to walk away in moments like that and I know she’d rather I follow suit, but all my parents have ever truly wanted is the weight of responsibility off my shoulders. As long as I have no regrets or guilt they couldn’t be happier for me. With that one terrifying decision made in spite of the ocean of faces hiding behind me, from then on I really didn’t care what people thought of my Shadowing.

We were told we could leave that day, that we should. We’d have a better chance on the run. But until we have no other option we’re staying. Despite all its flaws this is our home and we made up our minds back then to not budge.

Next time we appear remember: we choose freely to walk through fire, toss aside that rubble, carry you above rising waters and yes, risk death literally defending the planet. All because we want to, not because it is expected of us. The words in the media and in idle chatter around us can still leave a bitter taste at times but I can safely say they won’t lead me to dwell. Say what you want to me - If I were you… but you’re not. Tough.

The name the media and public use for me is Auntie Shadow, but between us? My name is Marron, and this is how Shadowing came to pass.

#gs

[freaoscanlin]

Given Unsought, Part 4

Jemma came back from Maveth with a little something in tow. She and Daisy attempt to deal. Part 1 | 2 | 3

A/N: It’s time for the prenatal appointments to begin, and Daisy’s totally not going to miss that. Just one week and it’s smaller because Week 15 is a beast. Rated PG-13, 2419 words. 

Week Fourteen

The first trimester of pregnancy had raged through Jemma, bestowing bouts of morning sickness at all hours of the day, coloring in sunken circles beneath her eyes, and making her generally testy and out of sorts. Returning to earth, being around people, and dealing with the new gravity after months of harsh survival hadn’t helped, no doubt. She’d grown snappish with Fitz and Daisy above all else, grumbling over the jasmine lotion Daisy used and reminding Fitz to change his razor blade when it had gotten too old. Her sense of smell grew so strong that Daisy made it a policy never to drop by the lab on her way back from working out. The first time she’d tried, Jemma had raced for the bathroom, looking distinctly greener than any human should.

Honestly, Daisy was learning so much about pregnancy, but only from observing Jemma or from reading the books. Her friend never brought up her condition unprompted. When others mentioned it, she changed the subject. Normally Jemma shared everything with her friend, down to the very mundane details, but spending time on the deathworld had made Jemma a complete sphinx.

Which was why Daisy was surprised to stroll into the lab to raid Fitz’s stash of dwarves for a recon op and see Jemma standing in front of the full length mirror in the back. She’d pulled her shirt up to reveal the slightly round slope of her abdomen. Her head tilted, a thoughtful frown in place. It turned to shock as she looked in the mirror and saw Daisy approaching. She whirled.

“Daisy! Hi, I was just—”

“I do that when I’ve had a really big burrito.” Daisy pulled down the pelican case of drones from the shelf.  “Not the same, I know.”

“Not quite.” Jemma eyed her as Daisy began to critically inspect the dwarves. “He hates that you get into his stuff, you know.”

“That’s half the point. So, how’s the bump?”

“Rather bumpy, I’m afraid.” Jemma frowned.

“Looks about average for this far along.” Daisy pulled out a dwarf and inspected it. After leaving behind the Disney naming scheme, Fitz had gone on to one of those nerdy books that Daisy hadn’t read. She wasn’t sure who ‘Thorin’ was, but he looked like a pretty good dwarf.

She looked up to see Jemma gawking at her, and immediately wanted to make sure her hair wasn’t sticking up or something. “What?” she asked.

Jemma’s mouth snapped shut.  “N-nothing. I just hadn’t realized you’d done the research.”

“I Google-image searched baby bumps, Simmons, it’s not a big deal. And,” she eyed Thorin’s line of sight and tested its weight, “all the baby books had, like, these calendars about what happens when. This is week fourteen?”

Jemma nodded.

“Cool. That’s when facial muscles start moving, I think. I bet Simmons Junior’s already learning to frown at whatever Fitz says.”

“You think it’s a boy?”

“I think it’s a blob.” Daisy set Thorin back in its case and tucked that under her arm. She skirted around the table and laid a hand on Jemma’s shoulder since her friend still looked uncertain. “But given that the DNA swimming around in that thing belongs half to you and half to a literal astronaut, it’s a very, very smart blob. And a lucky one.”

“There are actually several studies that link intelligence not to genetics but to—”

Daisy made a blah-blah-blah hand gesture. “You can quote all the studies you like at me, but I highly doubt Simmons Junior’s going to be the kid eating paste in the corner in kindergarten.”

“Eating paste could be a sign of curiosity, I’ll have you know.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows, but Jemma didn’t disclose any further details. “All righty then,” she said, heading for the door. “On that note, I’m going to take my purloined dwarf before Fitz catches me.”

“Hey, Daisy?” Jemma’s hesitant voice stopped her in her tracks and made her swivel in place. Jemma twisted her hands together. “I don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, unless there’s an emergency. Why? Did you need something?”

Jemma took a deep breath. “I have an appointment and I was wondering if you might tag along? Fitz went to the first one with me, but he started arguing with the doctor and it was a bit of a nightmare, actually. It’s off-site, but it’s not far, and it won’t take long, I swear, you can come right back. You’d be doing me such a big favor—”

“Simmons—Jemma.” Daisy smiled. “Of course I’ll go with you. Come get me when you need to leave, okay?”

“Will do. Thanks, Daisy.”

“Anytime,” Daisy said. She glanced over at the unmistakable sound of Fitz’s footsteps approaching the lab. “Crap, that’s my cue. See you tomorrow!”

And ignoring Fitz’s “Wha—hey!” she scampered out of the lab with her stolen tech.

“Fitz is very cross with you,” Jemma said as Daisy adjusted the height on the little wheely stool they’d given her while they waited for the doctor to join them.

Daisy plopped down. “If he stopped being a perfectionist and released the super-useful tech that’s going to teach us all about what nefarious schemes the ATCU is doing, he’d live a much happier life. He holds onto those things forever.”

“He’s a bit fussy, yes, but that’s hardly—”

“We need that stuff, Simmons,” Daisy said.

Jemma held up her hands in an ‘I’m staying out of this’ gesture. “I’ll let you two work it out.”

“He’ll come around.” Daisy poked around the little table behind the ultrasound machine, grinning when Jemma waspishly slapped her hand away. “You never showed the pictures from your first ultrasound. It didn’t look like a squirrel, did it?”

“No, I can assure you, it did not look like a squirrel because there wasn’t a clear shot of the baby then. And I know what you’re doing.” Jemma took a deep breath and scooted back so she was sitting up on the hospital bed. “I appreciate it, but there’s no need to try to misbehave and distract me from my nerves. I’ve accepted my lot in life and that this child is coming.”

Daisy, about to reach out and pick up the wand, abruptly drew her hand back. “Um, yes, that’s exactly what I was doing,” she said, hoping the lie didn’t sound as fake to Jemma as it did to her.

A brief knock on the door made them look over, and Dr. Collins stepped in. Or at least, Daisy assumed that was Dr. Collins. Jemma had rambled on about her OB/GYN all the way over to the clinic, mentioning that she looked like a shield-maiden, and Daisy completely understood. Even though she wore pressed trousers and a crisp shirt under her lab coat, Dr. Collins could have joined Lady Sif in battle and Daisy wouldn’t have even blinked. She stood up when Jemma introduced her and immediately felt dwarfed.

“I’m here as a friend, honorary aunt, that sort of thing,” Daisy said, sitting down as Dr. Collins crossed to the stool on the other side of the hospital bed.

“Dr. Fitz wasn’t able to make it? I did look forward to another lively debate.” Dr. Collins logged into the computer.

“Fitz won’t be back until he promises to be on his best behavior,” Jemma said with a fond eye-roll. “Daisy’s been through a lot with me. You can speak frankly in front of her. She won’t be nearly as grossed out as Fitz.”

“Sure I will be, I’ll just hide it better,” Daisy said. She stayed quiet during the routine parts of the check-up, while Jemma answered questions and had her blood pressure checked. When Dr. Collins drew blood, Daisy merely tilted her head at Jemma. ‘Payback,’ she mouthed at her friend.

Jemma stuck her tongue out at her.

The conversation grew too scientific for Daisy to follow, so she spaced out. Was it always like that when doctors examined other doctors? If she hadn’t been exposed to years of Fitz and Jemma talking about science-y things way over her head, Daisy would’ve been intimidated. Now she studied the seriously outdated computer that ran the ultrasound machine. It’d take her about thirty seconds to hack it, she decided, if she was feeling slow.

She jolted and brought her attention back to the present when Jemma laid back on the bed. “Huh?”

“She’s doing the ultrasound now,” Jemma said. She correctly pegged the source of Daisy’s distraction when she informed the doctor, “Daisy’s the smartest computer person I know. She’s just brilliant at all computers. She was admiring your system, I think.”

More like cringing at it, but she let Jemma have that. She wheeled herself closer. “Time for the money shot? The books said the sex could be determined this week, maybe?”

“It’s possible, but the position of the fetus might make that difficult.” Dr. Collins gave them both a smile. “Some babies are shy about that sort of thing. You might not know until the day of the delivery. In addition, fourteen weeks is a little early to tell. We can confirm better at twenty weeks.”

“Well,” Jemma said with one of those forced smiles, “it’ll be an excellent surprise, whatever we discover.”

“You can paint the nursery gender-neutral colors. What do they put in nurseries? Baby ducks?” Daisy asked.

“Fitz has already insisted on monkeys.”

Daisy conceded to that with a thoughtful tilt of the head, surprised that she’d already discussed it with Fitz. But it made sense: Jemma would have to find a place off-base soon so she could start nesting, or whatever. That sucked. Daisy would miss being two doors down from her best friend. But also with Ward still out there plotting revenge, it wasn’t exactly safe to move off base yet, so maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while after all.

But Daisy didn’t want to think about Ward, so she said, “Monkeys would be cute.”

“I’m considering my options.” Jemma grimaced as the gel was applied to her abdomen. To Dr. Collins, she said, “Fitz has always wanted a Capuchin monkey.”

“It’s kind of a thing with him,” Daisy agreed, watching the image on the screen shift between blurry black lines and equally blurry gray lines. “How long does it take for—ooh.”

The lines on the screen gave way to a grainy ultrasound of an impossibly tiny fetus in the middle of the screen. Daisy heard Jemma’s gasp and felt something punch through her chest, but in a good way. Unconsciously, she leaned forward to get a better look. Online, the sonograms had looked vaguely like creepy little octopuses. Here she could actually see the line of a face, an upturned nose and chin. The belly was almost comically distended, the little legs curled up. Not so much a blob, but a minuscule and perfect human.

“And there’s your baby,” Dr. Collins said, typing something into the keyboard with her free hand as she continued to move the ultrasound wand over Jemma’s abdomen. Measurements began to list out on the screen. “Little easier to get a clear shot this time, I think. Now let’s see if we can get a heartbeat.”

Daisy’s hand hurt. Looking down, she realized that Jemma had grabbed it at some point, linking their fingers together and squeezing hard. She had a look on her face that was impossible to decipher, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Aha,” Dr. Collins said, and an EKG line began to beep at the bottom of the screen. She hit a button on the keyboard. “Sounds like a good, strong heartbeat to me. At this point in time, Dr. Simmons, we don’t have any reason to believe there’s anything but a very healthy fetus in there. If you look here, you can see the fingers…” She began to point out parts of the sonogram, endlessly patient as she answered Daisy’s questions.

Jemma remained silent, clutching Daisy’s hand. She reached out with her free hand, wonderingly brushing her the tips of her fingers over the moving image of the fetus. Then she blinked and seemed to snap herself out of the spell. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I’ve smudged up your screen—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dr. Collins handed her a tissue, which she used to dab at her eyes. Jemma started and looked down at her hand, as though surprised to find it holding Daisy’s. Daisy merely squeezed reassuringly, not letting go.

Dr. Collins smiled at them, glancing down at the handholding briefly. “I’ll just print you off a copy, if you don’t have any other questions? Do you want a copy, too?”

“Uh, sure,” Daisy said. “I’ll consider it the start of my career as one of those people who carries around wallet photos.” She couldn’t wait to text it to May, actually.

Ten minutes later, she climbed into the driver’s seat of the borrowed vehicle—mercifully one of their SUVs without their logo on it, as that would look super conspicuous at the doctor’s office—and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Jemma had been eerily quiet. She sat in the passenger seat, one hand resting on her abdomen and the other holding the folder of papers Dr. Collins had given her, lost in thought.

Daisy nudged her. “Wanna play hooky for a bit? We could go get milkshakes.”

As she’d expected, that drew Jemma from her reverie. “You heard her in there, I’m supposed to be practicing healthy eating habits. Milkshakes are nothing but sugar—”

“And deliciousness. Think of it as a good source of calcium or something. She said you’re healthy, the baby seems healthy. Why not cut loose a little?”

Jemma looked tempted.

Daisy nudged her again. “Do you know how rare it is to get out of the base these days? Let’s go be irresponsible for, like, half an hour before we head back.”

“You’re such a bad influence.” Jemma reached over and brushed some of Daisy’s hair back. Must be a pregnancy thing, Daisy determined. Like nesting, or something. Jemma had never been this hands on with her before. “But yes. Let’s go get milkshakes. But you’ll have to bring one back for Fitz, too, to apologize for stealing Thorin.”

“Fair,” Daisy decided, and started the ignition.

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