#so she had to settle for the job of physician

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hi mo! i want to wish you a HUGE congrats on your milestone (: you deserve every single follow and like and reblog! your writing is so, so good and it brings me sm comfort if youre still taking requests, can i pls request alfie + “how long has it been since someone hugged you?”

Oh Noni this was so sweet! You are so so kind. It brings me immense joy that my writing brings you comfort. That is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. I’m sending all my love to you darling, I hope you enjoy this.

Guys this is the last request from our 100 Follower Celebration!!! This was so fun and I am so in love with the community we have built here together!!! I’m currently working on our final installment of Interviews for New Beginnings!!! Anyway I love y’all so much, have an amazing day my loves!! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: Always

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing

“Mr. Solomons. I know you don’t want to hear this… or anything I’ve said the past 10 years I’ve been your physician… but you really need to watch your stress levels sir. It may very well kill you one day.”

Dr. Young had been treating Alfie Solomons exclusively for 10 years. Every stab wound, bullet hole, and influenza season had been watched over diligently by the good doctor. But every month his largest concern was Alfie Solomons’ blood pressure and tension headaches. Unfortunately for Dr. Young… Alfie Solomons was the worst patient he ever had.

Alfie ripped the stethoscope off his burly chest and threw it back at his doctor, “Bah fuck off. Respectfully of course. I’m fine. I’m going to live longer than you mark my words. Stress is good for the body.”

Dr. Young shrugged, there was no use fighting with Alfie. Usually Alfie would see reason and silently beckon and repent right before death came knocking, “If you believe Mr. Solomons. Anyway I want you to keep counting your pulse and recording it. Not that you’ll do it I wager. But I’ll be back same time next week.”

“Yeah, right. See Ollie gives you your fee. And double check with my secretary that your window is still open.”

Dr. Young smiles, “I’ll be sure to let her know that I gave you a task so that she keeps you accountable as well.”

As he walked out, leaning heavily on his wooden cane to offset his heavy medical bag, Alfie hollered after him, “You will do no such thing damn you! Ask her the schedule and nothing else!”

Alfie hears the slight chuckle of his ancient physician behind the closed door. Alfie finally lets out the sigh of relief he had been holding tightly all morning. His head falls into his calloused hands. The slow and rhythmic push and rush of his palms against his eyes and temple soothe the panging and banging in his head. An ache that has been ever present for the past few days. One that hasn’t been aided at all by the lack of water in his day to day.

The past few days have been Alfie’s own personal hell. The Americans’ prohibition on spirits has added another layer of problems to the business. New men had been hired and were not all bright, causing more mistakes than their bodies were worth. Cops were getting greedy, and were needing more to smooth their hands and seal their lips. Usually, a boss would have been able to hand off problems to lower levels. Not Alfie. Never Alfie. Alfie doesn’t get to give jobs to anyone else. No one wants to help Alfie. Alfie is to solve every problem. By himself. If he doesn’t do it, it will not get done. If he doesn’t fix it, everything will fall. But it’s always been like this. Ever since his father passed away, he’s been the man. He’s been the fixer. The protector. The boss. The leader. He alone can do it. He alone does it. He alone. He is alone.

Through the barricade of his stress and rage and sweat and stiff muscles, he hears his door click open, and the soft tap of your feet across the floor boards. Your sweet bell voice tingles his nerves, “Alright Alfie I set up Dr. Young’s appointment next week so you are all settled. This afternoon you have two more meetings. Mr. Yusef and Mr. Edmonds. Also you will need to look over the shipping particulars for the shipment to New York in three we- Alfie are you alright?”

You pause looking at his face. He’s always looked rather scruffy and wild but this was different. His face was gaunt and ashen. His usually ruddy cheeks were pale and covered in a thin sheen of sick sweat. Those bright blue and sparkling eyes looked glossy. If you didn’t know better… they could almost be tears.

You don’t even let him try and explain away his symptoms.

“We’re cancelling the rest of your meetings today. No arguements.”

Screaming. Shouting. Bellowing. The glass in the window panes shake. The wood of the desks bang like the sound of gunshots and canons. “VILE WOMAN YOU TOUCH THAT CALENDAR YOU ARE FIRED DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU BRING YOURSELF BACK HERE NOW!”

You ignore him, calling the other secretaries, having to shout over the bellows and cries of your melodramatic yet beloved boss. The excuse you concocted didn’t matter. You wouldn’t care to remember the story you told. You would deal with it later. What mattered was clearing the calendar to make sure that Alfie could be released from his bindings that he so tightly wound around himself cutting the circulation and breath of peace.

You set the cornflower blue and cream colored tea pot on the little stove in the corner. Gingerly stoking the flame, coaxing warmth and light into a sweet roar. You call for hearty treats from the bakery next door, a good array to settle the spirit of your war laden boss. Soon the tea is ready and the soulful remedies are set. The roaring of the animal in the office has settled into rumbles. It was safe to enter.

Upon entering Alfie is again shouting, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve treacle. I am your boss. I am your superior officer. I pay your paycheck. And you have the absolute fucking audacity to…”

You let the hot words wash over you like a summer storm. You place your tools of healing on Alfie’s desk, swiftly and quietly. You take your spot in your chair across from him, grabbing his worry worn wooden pipe and filling it with his tobacco. Like a dance you’ve done a thousand times, he gingerly takes that pipe from you as he’s still yelling and scolding, pausing briefly to light it and suck in that air like it’s his last meal.

You smile as he blusters on like a thunder cloud. There was no true threat. You would never really be fired. Even if he was cross with you. There was a certain comfort in the noise. Like the storm cloud the noise signified that there was still life and that a calm would soon follow. But there was still the tightness in his shoulders. There was still that look you saw before he started to storm and blow. In a feat of courage you cocked your head to the side, “When was the last time someone hugged you?”

Immediate silence.

“What. What the fuck did you just ask me?”

“When’s the last time someone hugged you? You look like you need one sir.”

His index finger might as well have been a loaded pistol the way he pointed at you, “Men do not hug. I have never been hugged nor will I ever hug do you hear me? Hugged?! It’s even a ridiculous word. I mean… hugged?! No! I don’t want one I don’t need one that is completely and utterly ridiculous!”

You smile, knowing that he would say something like that. As if approaching a wild dog you put your hand out, offering yourself to him. Offering your vulnerability to him. Alfie stared down as thought it held an invisible gun, unsure what it was you held. Carefully and out of practice, he slowly slipped his hand in yours. Cool and smooth fingertips against is hot rough hands. Your hands so easily slips around his, finally finding its home. To Alfie’s absolute shock, he watches as your perfect thumb runs patterns and circles around his scarred knuckles and ornate rings. He watches the way your lashes flutter and soft smile blooms on your face. In a gentle caress to his ears you say, “You know you don’t have to keep it all inside. You can ask for help.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. But doesn’t move his hand away, “I don’t need help.”

You laugh, and he feels his heart skip, “Oh I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure you could run this entire thing by yourself.”

“I could.”

“I know.”

Alfie hums, satisfied that he’s won enough. You sit in silence, the muffled sounds of the distillery and street below being the only signs that you’re still on Earth. Alfie never moved his hand, never responding to your ministrations beyond a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you… for… being here.” Alfie finally breaks the silence. He can’t help the blush that rises to his ears and cheeks. He can’t look away from the smile on your perfect lips.

You nod at him, squeezing his hand and shaking it. “Always.”

[goldenseresinretriever]

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 4.5

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Jake’s had a weird day, to say the least. He’d started the morning still unsure if he was truly ready to trust Bugs with his story, or at least the portion related to his knee injury. She hadn’t pushed, she’d just sat there and listened to him. Sure she’d been adamant from the very beginning that she was just interested in helping him heal but he’d heard that song before from more familiar birds. There are only so many times you can get stabbed in the back before you start walking backward to avoid it. On top of that, what Bugs had revealed today just twisted the knife where it stuck. Not only had Dr. Hanover helped his coach guilt him into playing while injured, but he’d blatantly lied to Jake and possibly even his coach about Jake’s recovery timeline. The more Jake thought about it, the more he figured that his coach was probably in on the lie. Coach wanted Jake exactly where he envisioned him, regardless of Jake’s goals, his ambitions. He could have been the second coming of Wayne Gretzky himself and he wasn’t sure his coach would have cared. That was the thing about Coach (find a name you dolt), once he put you in a box and created his master plan for your life, your career, nothing else could get in the way of that. The problem was that he’d created a new box for Jake, but this time it was one that Jake hated. It went against everything that Jake was. And if he’d needed any more reasons to leave, now he had them.

But now he was here and he had Bugs. He could trust her. If he wasn’t already sure, he was when he’d seen her rage. She’d burned so fiercely he’d been caught between awe and fear, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. He’d been on the receiving end of her anger a few times and while it had caught him off guard at first he’d grown to enjoy riling her up. But the righteous fire in her eyes as she cursed out Dr. Hanover, demanding to know what he’d done to Jake as if weighing his sins before delivering swift hard justice, was something he’d never experienced before. She wanted to fight… for him. He’d had plenty of physicians in the past who spouted the same Hippocratic oath bullshit but he’d never seen someone like Bugs. Maybe it was her youth. She was the same age as him, this was her first big gig, and she still had passion for what she did, unlike the crusty old men that Jake usually found himself in the care of. He wasn’t too proud to admit that his cock had twitched in his sweats at the display of such fierce loyalty, at the fire of devotion in her eyes. It made him want to drop to his knees and worship her, injury be damned.

Then she’d cried. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he remembers looking up to see the silent tears streaming down her cheeks, the pain in her eyes haunting him. Pain for him. Not pity, but empathy. He’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her. He’d settled for holding her hands. It was then that he realized that if he saw her cry again? Whoever was responsible for her tears was going to get put in the fucking ground. No one makes his Bunny cry. He clenches his fist around the weight in his hand unconsciously. He’s in the weight room working his arms since he’s on strict orders to keep off his leg until scans can be scheduled and tests can be run.

His phone dings and he glances at the screen to see Maverick’s name pop up. He sets down the weight to snag his phone from where it’s sitting on the gym phone next to the bench. “CYCLONE’S OFFICE NOW. HURRY.” The text is all caps and nothing like what he normally receives from his older coach. The warning sirens go off in Jake’s brain even as the rational part of his brain tries to convince him that nothing’s wrong. You mentioned that you were planning to meet with Mav and Cyclone ASAP to fill them in on his condition. They probably just wanted him to be present. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. He barely stops to rack the dumbbell before he moves for the elevator as fast as he can. His knee groans in protest, strapped into the brace Bugs put on it. He does his best to move quickly, smashing the buttons and succumbing to the waiting game. Most of the facilities in the arena were on the ground floor but Cyclone’s office was one of the few located on the second floor. He knows Bugs would chew him out for taking the stairs even if they were the quicker option. Finally, the doors slide open and Jake makes his way down the hallway towards the door at the end. He’s not even halfway there, however, when he hears the muffled shouting. His blood runs cold. The reason for the urgency in Maverick’s text suddenly becomes clear. Jake takes a shuddering breath before he starts running, knee be damned. He groans in thanks when he finds the door unlocked but the venom-filled words filtering from the other side are finally clearly audible.

“I KNEW hiring you was a mistake and look what you’ve done! You can’t even do your fucking job!” Jake’s heard enough. He shoves the door open so hard he almost takes it off its hinges.

“HEY!” His voice is pure fury. Cyclone is red in the face and leaning over his desk, an accusatory finger waving in your face where you’re sitting across from him. He turns his attention to Jake at the outburst. You don’t even flinch at the sound of the door and Jake’s heart squeezes in concern at your lack of reaction until he watches the harsh tension of your shoulders relax a little.

He storms across the room, stepping in front of you, doing his best to shield you from the wrath rolling off Cyclone. His finger is inches from Jake’s cheek. “This isn’t her fault, so don’t you go accusing her as if it is.” He’s furious, seething at the complete and total lack of professionalism his boss is exhibiting. He’s starting to wonder if he’s gone from the frying pan into the fire when Cyclone decides to make things worse.

“That’s not up to you, son. She’s fired, effective immediately. This is gross negligence, she’s lucky we don’t sue.” If he wasn’t so angry, Jake might laugh in his face at that. He’s no lawyer but he knows that there’s not even a hint of gross negligence at play when it comes to you.

“No, she’s not. The only way I’m getting treated is if she’s the one to do it.” Jake glares at Cyclone, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk as his eyes gleam. Cyclone hasn’t realized it quite yet but he doesn’t have control of the puck in this scenario, it’s confidently in Jake’s. “I know I’ve cost you all a pretty penny that you currently don’t have so not only can you not afford to fire me, but you need me to play, and the only way that’s going to happen is if my leg heals, and I’m telling you right now that that’s not happening unless Bugs is my physician. If you want to blame someone?” He tilts his head, daring Cyclone to try this shit again. “I’m feeling pretty good about my chances of suing my last physician and coach for a lot more than gross negligence.” He watches Cyclone’s eyes dart around nervously and Jake knows he’s won. “But Bugs and I are a package deal. If I stay, she stays, and I’m staying.” Some would call it cocky but Jake knows it’s not. It’s calculated, and ambitious. This is the Jake Seresin his opponents see on the ice. This is the Hangman, he gets what he wants and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Cyclone nods silently and Jake lowers his hackles, anger melting into concern for you. You’ve been completely silent throughout this entire exchange almost as if you’re not even here. He turns around to face you and his heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Your eyes are glazed over, your expression vacant, and you’re completely checked out of what’s going on. He prays it’s because you’re barricaded somewhere safe, protecting yourself instead of lost in the walls of your mind. He leans in close, doing his best to take up your entire field of vision to shield you from your fear in any way he knows. He reaches out gently, afraid to startle you as he slides his hands into yours, using them to gently help you to your feet. Your body follows, and he’s thankful you still have control of your faculties, not that he’d hesitate to scoop you into his arms and carry you out of this hellhole himself. “Come on, Bunny. “ He whispers to you placing a hand on the small of your back. He keeps the other laced with yours as he slowly, gently guides you out of Cyclone’s office, ignoring the other two men in the room.

He knows he should get you somewhere private, somewhere safe before he tries to get through to you but he has no idea how long you’ve been in there and speed seems of the essence. He stops halfway down the hallway, turning to place his back to the office, protective, shielding you as he reaches to cup your jaw and stroke his thumb across your cheek. He searches your eyes, trying to keep the fear out of his own at the glazed-over and empty look in yours. “Bunny? Hey Bunny, come back to me, baby. I know you’re in there, Bunny, come on.”

He’s not sure how long he stands there whispering soft coaxings and reassurances to you. The worry rising in his mind and making his heart race threatens to take him under too because it’s been far too long when finally he watches the light return to your eyes. “There you are, Bunny. You okay, baby?” He can’t even be bothered with wondering when he started calling you baby. The relief rushing through him is overwhelming and he almost doesn’t catch you as your knees buckle suddenly. He throws an arm around your waist and leans the two of you against the wall, not trusting himself to keep you both upright. You nod up at him, still silent before you call his name and your voice is almost unrecognizable as it croaks out and he almost sobs at the sound. “Yeah, baby? I’m right here, Bunny.” He wants you to know that you’re safe now, that he’s not going to let anything happen to you, that you don’t have to be afraid of anything, least of all Cyclone.

“What were you- How’d you- Why’d you do that?” You trip over your words and Jake shakes his head gently. His heart aches at the idea that you wouldn’t expect him to defend you after everything you’d done for him.

“It’s like I said this morning, Bunny. We make a good team. You really think I’d let you get away when we’re just getting started?” Your eyes warm despite the apprehension he still sees in them and he feels the sudden urge to kiss that apprehension away. He’s taken aback at his strong feelings. When did that happen? You weren’t even his friend yesterday and now he’s putting his job on the line for you and wanting to kiss you here in the hallway outside his boss’s office. He doesn’t have long to consider these questions as the door down the hall opens again and you step out of his arms as Maverick comes walking towards the two of you. He has to fight every impulse to not pull you back to him, Maverick be damned but he puts on his most professional smile as he turns to face his coach just as he claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

[fearfulachilles]

2. the angry man.

chapter twoto buop (nanami kento x reader jjk medical au.) .

full contents here.

summary: you meet your new roommates, nobara and megumi. you also meet a very handsome stranger at a bar.

You only stayed home throughout your pre-med classes because your mom was sick and needed help around the house. It kind of interrupted your plans with Yuji. You were supposed to go to the same school for your bachelor's degrees, but when your mom got sick, you had to stay back.

Now, she's gone.

Your siblings came down to help too. Your older brother lived the closest, just a few blocks away from your childhood home. He bought his own house a few years ago after getting married. Now, he has a baby on the way. Your younger sister lived across the country with her own wife and kids. You can't remember ever meeting her children, the last you saw of them was when your sister posted an Instagram picture of her youngest's birthday party. They were getting back to their lives too.

It's been your dream to become a doctor for a while now. You don't know if you wanted to be a doctor first, or if Yuji did. You've known each other for a long time that things get blurry, but he's been your person for as long as you can remember.

Yuji always made friends super easy, he's the type of person people naturally gravitate towards. So, when he explained to you that he's moved in with two friends he met during college, and that they're all applying to work at Jujutsu Metropolitan Hospital, it didn't seem out of the ordinary.

You were happy for Yuji, and a little sad, you felt like you were falling behind. Until Yuji further explains that they have an extra room, and the hospital is looking for four scribes, and he wants you to interview for it. He had made sure you don't get left behind. Being friends with Yuji was a life long commitment that he makes.

Commitment was something you struggled with. Your friendship with Yuji was the longest one you've had, and you loved it. But you never had any ties or commitments to your current home. Even before your mom's passing, you were ready to leave home the moment you could. Seeing Choso from time to time was beginning to feel more serious, so it was a greatly timed coincidence and an easy yes when Yuji asked if you wanted to interview for the job and move in with him.

You interviewed with one of the physicians you would be working with, Dr. Gojo, for the job. It had to be done over a phone call, since you were living far. Dr. Gojo explained you'd be a medical scribe for a small group of physicians working at Jujutsu Metropolitan Hospital's new clinic. Some would be surgeons, and you'd be scribing postoperative visits. You'd get to work independently with doctors and learn how to come up with treatment plans with them. The job sounded like peaking behind the curtain of the future you were working for.

Yuji meets you bright and early to help move the last of your things. Yuji catches you up on everything. Who Megumi is, who Nobara is, how school was. Yuji tells you that the apartment where you're all going to live together in is a sublet from Megumi's father, who was a trauma surgeon at Jujutsu Metropolitan, so rent was cheap for all of you guys. It feels like it always has been between you and Yuji. You don't get a chance to think about missing Choso, so you don't.

Meeting Megumi and Nobara was bumpy at first.

Megumi didn’t talk to you much. It would have came off as stand-offish, but he was kind enough to help move your boxes and mattress with Yuji.

Nobara was… easier to talk to. She didn’t make a big deal about you showing up and moving into the bedroom that she was using as a spare closet. You did have to agree on letting piles of her shoes stay in your room until she could find space for them. You asked to borrow them sometime, since they’ll be staying in your room, but she turned you down before you could finish asking.

You spend the early part of the day settling in, moving furniture with Yuji, then unpacking the little stuff left. You keep your door open.

You don't know when it happened, or how it started, but you hear Nobara screaming from the shared bathroom down the hallway. You then hear Yuji frantically apologizing. You peek your head out of your door frame and you see Megumi doing the same from his room too.

Yuji calls your name and you rush to the bathroom. You're a good friend who will be there when called, and you were nosy enough to be there quickly.

“Help her!” Yuji yells at you, pushing you in between he and Nobara, shielding himself. “She fucked up her bangs!”

“You fucked them up! You moved my arm!” She shrieks back.

You take a look at Nobara's hair, and her bangs are crooked. You have bite back a laugh. “Uh- yeah, I can fix that. Yuji, get out of here, you've done enough.”

You ended up helping Nobara fix her bangs. She screamed a lot, cried a little, but you managed to calm her down and fix the mess. She was grateful towards you, basically offering her life for yours. She still said no to borrowing her shoes, though.

Later that day, you found Megumi on the living room couch, trying to sew together a pair of scrubs. He just bought them and they arrived with a rip in the pants. A new pair wouldn’t arrive in time for the first day of work on Monday, so now he’s pricking his finger and bleeding all over the only pair he has. After watching his attempts, you offer to do it for him. He was hesitant.

“Think of it as a thank you for helping me move in,” you insist. “And for letting me live here. I guess I owe you two thank you's.”

Megumi smiles, just enough to notice it. “Are you any good at it?”

That's why he was hesitant. What if you ruined his already ruined mess? You smile back and nod confidently. “I used to sew all of my mom's work clothes, my brother's shirts, and my sister's Halloween costumes. I've very well versed in stitching.”

Megumi gives in and lets you take over. You're doing a much better job than he was doing, and a lot faster. He stays next to you, watching you at work. You don't mind the company and you appreciate his quietness.

Just as you finish your last stitch, Nobara approaches both of you from her room.

“Sewing on a Saturday night? You're making me feel old, guys.” She sighs to herself. “We're going out! Chop chop.”

You turn to look at Megumi, looking to see if he knew of this plans. He looks at you too and shrugs his shoulders, as if he heard your question in his head. You slightly tilt your head and Megumi reads your expression again, and nods his head.

“Do you two have your own language already?” Nobara asks, not having heard a response from either of you yet.

“No fair,” Yuji's voice sounds young, like a pouting kid, “we've never had a secret language.”

“I'll go get ready.” You cut the excess thread and hand Megumi his scrub pants. Megumi seconds that and you both get up.

Moments later, you're finishing doing your hair and standing in your chosen outfit inside your room. It's simple, nothing scandalous other than your shirt being lowcut. Nobara knocks on your open bedroom door before coming in. She goes to her pile of shoes in your closet. You let her rummage through it and you continue some finishing touches on your hair.

“These would look cute with what you're wearing.” You hear Nobara say, and you turn to see her sliding a box of shoes towards you. You want to squeal, so you bite down your smile to avoid doing it.

“Oh, um, thank you!” You kneel to look at the pair you'll be borrowing, and she's right. They would look cute with your outfit. Nobara tells you to try them on and you do. You both gush about the shoes for a minute before meeting up with the boys.

You go out to a nearby bar. It's big, clean, and loud. You see a pair of men ordering drinks, a bachelorette party, and a couple more random groups there. You guys pick a booth to seat and drink at. Megumi and Yuji go to order the drinks while you and Nobara sit together on one side of the booth.

You scan the room again as it gathers more and more people. Your eyes fall on an older man at a standing table by himself. He looks tall and tense, but even then, you can't ignore how gorgeous he appears. He's blonde and looks like he works out by the way his clothes fit on his body.

“That guy is so hot.” You comment to Nobara. She follows your stare and shrugs in response.

“He's alright. He looks mad.”

“I know, it's hot.”

Nobara chuckles and puts her phone away. “Go talk to him. Maybe you can brighten his mood.”

You shake your head and settle into your seat. You're on the outside of the booth chair, and you're almost scared Nobara will push you out so you can go to talk the stranger. “No, I came here with you guys.”

“So what? He's cuter than Yuji and Megumi are combined.”

You look over to the boys mentioned, they're waiting for one more drink at the bar. You chuckle and this time it's your turn to shrug. “They're alright, I'll settle for them.”

Megumi and Yuji return with drinks and your evening starts. You laugh and share stories of Yuji as a kid, in return Nobara shares stories of Yuji throughout college. Megumi chimes in a couple of times, mostly to confirm something stupid Yuji did or said. Yuji can take the heat and laughs along with you.

Megumi gets up to order another round and you get up as well to head to the bathroom. On your way out, you bump into the stranger you've been eyeing.

His body is hard and strong against yours. You feel like squishy fluff compared to his body. You look up at him and you want to cower at first glance. His expression seems to be permanently annoyed, it makes you shrink slightly.

“Sorry, I wasn't looking.” You take the blame even though you're not sure it's all yours. You glance around for a second before meeting his face again. When you do, his face had soften. He was even more attractive up close.

The man is just staring at you, then he blinks and brings himself back down to earth. “No, my fault. I'm sorry.”

You don't know how you got the sudden confidence to do what you're about to do, you like to think Nobara subconsciously bullied you, but you smile up at him and ask, “sorry enough to buy me a drink?”

It was a risky shot, but you make it. The man laughs and nods. “More, but we can start there.”

You're not sure what he means by that, but maybe you're playing dumb. You both sneak away to a corner of the bar and he orders over two drinks. Your eyes scan the bar to see where the booth where your roommates were at, and the man notices.

“Here with your friends?” He asks, but it's clear he knows the answer. You look at him with a corner of your lips turned up. “I saw you with them earlier.”

He had noticed you. It makes you want to smile but you only let it happen a little. You nod. “Yeah, well, more like roommates. You're here alone?”

The man shakes his head, his face turning almost sour for a split second. “No, with a coworker. He insisted we come out and now I can't find him.”

You don't want to get to know him too well, so you don't ask further. The drinks are made and you both continue small talk. He doesn't want to talk about work and neither do you. You make him laugh a little with your quick wit and it makes everything go smoother. You learn his name is Kento, but he doesn't give a last name, and neither do you.

One drink leads to two quickly, and at the end of your third, you've feeling braver and more comfortable. So is he. Kento's hand finds a place on your lower back and you feel yourself burning from his touch. The bar only gets busier as the night goes on. You're not sure how long you've been gone from everyone, but you're certain it hasn't been too long.

Kento doesn't know what's happening to him. He's not the one to go to bars, but he was forced here. He's not the one to buy women drinks at bars and have funny conversations with, but he's doing it, happily. His tense shoulders had melted into a relax position the minute you asked for a drink. Now, he's asking if you'd like to leave with him. The night is still young, but he's done with it.

You say yes, a little too eagerly. If it wasn't for the smile Kento has when you answered so quickly, you'd be embarrassed. You sent Yuji a quick, vague text before Nanami leads you to his car outside.

[hannahhook7744]

Modern Merlin Moodboards (Part 4) (Revamped);

Character: Sir Lancelot Du Lac.

Modern name: Lance Griffin.

Age: 39 years old.

Modern job: Detective.

Short rundown of their modern life: Lance Griffin grew up the son of a solider and because of that, he and his family often moved around. That is, until the night his parents and grandparents were all killed in a robbery gone wrong after burglars broke into their house.

Lance just barely managed to escape being killed as well by hiding in a cupboard until the cops arrived.

After that, he was placed in foster care where, after a couple of years of acting out (from ages 7-11) Lance was put in military school where he met and befriended Percival. He was there for a couple of years until an old friend of his mom's petitioned for custody of him and got it. Allowing for him to stay there during the school year and spend the summer with her.

He joined the police academy after graduating and eventually, after being promoted to detective, he was partnered up with Detective Leonard Grant (who preferred Leon) who introduced him to Doctor Merlin Everstone.

The pair are now roommates (along with Leon's wife, Vivian).

Character: Merlin of Ealdor (also known as Emrys).

Modern name: Merlin Everstone.

Age: 36 years old (physically at least).

Modern job: Physician/Doctor.

Short rundown of their modern life: Merlin has walked the Earth waiting for Arthur to rise, constantly running into Leon and getting into trouble in the meantime. Helping those in need as he did so and eventually becoming a licensed doctor.

Not long after Lancelot popped up, Merlin met Freya (who had nothing to her name) and re-fell in love with her. Eventually Freya's memories returned and the pair settled down, got married (after meeting Will and Elena and attending their own wedding) with the pair (along with Lancelot, Leon, and Vivian) as their witnesses, and had one (magical) son named 'Dragonet'.

As well as a daughter named Stephanie.

Character: Freya (Also known as the Lady of the Lake).

Modern name: Freya Everstone.

Age: 36 years old.

Modern job: Strawberry Farmer.

Short rundown of their modern life: Freya Everstone was born to an Amish community in Canada where she spent the first eighteen years of her life.

She lost her family when she was young, causing her to be raised by the rest of the community until she was attacked by a man, causing her to kill him accidentally in self defense. Which caused her to be ousted by her community and attacked by the man’s mother, which caused her to flee to the U.S.

She ran into Merlin when she was twenty three and soon fell in love with him: eventually causing her memories to return. After that, the pair bought a farm with a few fields filled with wildflowers, near a lake and mountains. Planted some strawberries and got a couple of cows.

Not long afterwards, she and Merlin attended Will and Elena's wedding and decided to tie-the-knot in a courthouse wedding with their friends as their witnesses.

Less than a year later, their only daughter, Stephanie, was born. Two years after, their last child, Dragonet, was born.

Character: None.

Modern name: Stephanie Guinevere Everstone.

Age: 13 years old.

Modern job: None. She's a student.

Short rundown of their modern life: Stephanie Guinevere Everstone was born fourteen years ago was born to Merlin and Freya, and grew up having to keep her magic a secret from most—except for Leon and her family.

Because of this, she grew up feeling bitter and became very rebellious towards her parents. Wanting nothing more than to not hide who she was.

Eventually leading to her disappearance.

Character: Dragonet the Royal Court Jester.

Modern name: Dragonet Everstone.

Age: 11 years old.

Modern job: None. He's a student.

Short rundown of their modern life: Dragonet was born to Merlin and Freya 11 years ago, and grew up having to keep his magic a secret from most— outside of Leon, his sister, and his parents, of course.

He eventually ended up befriending Artie, Everard, Marcel, and Salem, and now does his best to keep them out of harm while trying to keep his magic a secret. Just till his parents and Leon say it's okay for him to tell them.

Which is likely to be sometime after they awaken everyone.

(It's a good thing he's somewhat patient).

Character: Gilli.

Modern name: Gilligan 'Gilli' White.

Age: 28 years old.

Modern job: Carpetener.

Short rundown of their modern life: Gilligan 'Gilli' White was born to a disgraced Magician who was murdered when he was only twelve years old.

After this, Gilli ran away and joined a traveling group of magicians who were apart of a traveling circus. Hellbent on learning all the tricks his father had denied him knowledge of and on tracking down the men who murdered his father (which, given that he doesn't know they are... Well, is not easy).

In the circus, he met his boyfriend, Daegal Norrington, and his friends, Sophia Tiermore and Lamia Scales.

Eventually, he left the circus. Still practicing magic, but becoming a Carpenter and moving into a motel where he still resides to this day with his now med student boyfriend, Daegal Norrington.

Character: Daegal. 

Modern name: Daegal Norrington.

Age: 25 years old. 

Modern job: Med Student.

Short rundown of their modern life: Daegal Norrington grew up the only child of a single magician and fortune teller in a traveling circus. 

Never knowing who his father was. 

When he was eight, an older boy named ‘Gilli’ White joined the circus and they became friends.

When he was nine, a girl named ‘Sophia Tiermore’ was left at the circus by her father. 

When he was thirteen, a girl named ‘Lamia Scales’ was found and brought to the circus and taken under the wing of his mother.

When he was seventeen, his mother was killed by a Penace Industries product and was laid to rest by the rest of their circus troop. 

When he was eighteen he left the circus with Gilli in hopes of attending med school and supporting the other man’s dream of being a carpenter. Now they live in a motel together.

[sarahsmi13s]

I love you, Cowboy

(not my gif)

pairing: rhett abbott x reader (last name: knight)

characters: rhett abbott, fem!reader, the abbott family (mentioned), the knight family, josh (reader’s brother that is mentioned)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, she/her pronouns used, language, angst, rhett being his little insecure self, toxic mother, parental expectations, parents trying to live through their children, if i missed any please let me know.

word count: ~3.3k

a/n: this is inspired by the song ‘ladies love country boys’ by trace adkins, it was supposed to be a little happier than this but the angst the is rhett abbott took over. 

but nevertheless i hope you enjoy

also: rhett calls reader “doc”

**********

You’d grown up in the city, in a neighborhood full of houses that all looked more or less the same on the outside. Both of your parents were well known in your town. Your dad was a successful lawyer and your mother was a housewife that was president of the PTA.

Your parents had always wanted the best for you.

They put you in dance classes when you were younger, but eventually let you venture out into sports. You kept straight A’s, getting ‘most likely to succeed’ in your yearbook ‘who’s who’ section both your freshman and senior year.

Once you graduated high school early, your parents bought you a car and by that fall you were off to college in some southern town that you had no idea existed.

Your mom and dad really wanted you to pursue law, but you nipped that in the bud.

“Mom, Dad, I don’t want to study law. That’s not something that interests me and I would be burnt out before I even started the car. I’m studying sports medicine, and if you have a problem with that, then that’s on you.”

They didn’t have a problem with that actually. If you studied medicine, that gave you a shot at finding a doctor to marry and settle down with. Or maybe you’d find a lawyer, either way it worked.

So, when you came home holding the hand of Rhett Floyd Abbott -a bull rider from rural Wyoming, a country boy on all fronts- they were a little surprised.

**********

You had met Rhett after you graduated and moved to Wabang for work.

One of your friends had told you about a school in ‘a small ass town’ in a ‘tiny ass county’ needing a physician/team doctor. His mother had told him when she came home from a convention.

But without that ‘small ass town’, you would have never met Rhett Abbott and you wouldn’t have been happier to be out of California.

********

You actually had met Perry first, he saw you at a bar and thought you were being stood up. When in reality you were celebrating your new job.

That sparked a friendship with the older Abbott boy and then he introduced you to Rhett when Rhett tagged along to help you unload your moving truck. Which sparked a friendship between the two of you.

A few weeks after you moved in, your golden retriever, Chica, had gotten out through a hole in your backyard fence. Luckily, Rhett had seen her on his way home and picked her up. He came by and dropped her off.

When he asked how she got out, you told him and he didn’t hesitate to offer his assistance. He made a temporary fix for the day and then came back the next morning with supplies.

Rhett completely replaced your fence, taking down the old, rusted chain-link and replacing it with t-post and grid-fence panels.

You wanted to pay him back.

“How can I repay you?” “You don’t have to-” “Rhett, you came up here and gave me a whole new fence. I can’t just not pay you back.” “Okay, then let me take you out on a date.”

And the rest is history.

********

Now here you were, nearly a year later and you were head over heels in love with Rhett. And he was head over boots for you.

You were still the school’s team doctor, but you had also become Rhett’s medical personnel on his bull-riding team. You were the only one Rhett trusted when it came to medical advice at an event.

Currently you were in the middle of Rhett’s truck, singing your lungs out to the Charlie Daniels song playing from the radio. Rhett was laughing and singing along with you.

Then your phone rang.

Rhett turned the music down when you answered it. “Dr. Knight?” … “When is it?” … “Um okay, yeah. Let me talk to him and see what he thinks and I’ll get back to you.” You hung up and faced Rhett a little more.

Keeping an eye on the road, he gave you his attention, “What’s up Doc?” You rolled your eyes, but grinned at the phrase he picked up. “My graduating class is having a reunion at the end of May. Would you want to go?”

Rhett paused, thinking of how to respond, “Do you wan’ me to go?” You frown, confused, “Of course I want you to go, Rhett. I wanna show off my strong cowboy. But if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to.” He smiled at you, “Sure, why not, let’s go.” You grinned and opened your phone, sending a quick text to whomever you had been on the phone with.

“Oh my gosh, Rhett turn it up!” You shouted when the familiar sound of Lynyrd Skynyrd met your ears.

He just smiled fondly at you and turned it up.

*********

You sat in your parents driveway squeezing Rhett’s hand. “Hey, if you’re nervous, we can come back later. We got ourselves an AirBnB for a reason. You don’t have to meet them today.” “Darlin’, I’m not nervous, I’m just-” You arched an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous.”

You leaned toward him, “Can you tell me why you’re nervous?” He held eye contact with you for a second before chuckling shyly and looking at his calloused hands. “I know I don’t bring much to the table.” “Rhett-” “Let me finish,” he said gently, closing his eyes for a second.

“I know I don’t bring much to the table,” he started over. “I’m not a doctor or a lawyer, or some CEO. I’m a bull rider that’s a lot more trouble than he’s worth.” He looked up at you, “I already know I’m not good enough for you. And that's all they’re gonna see. I just don’t want you to see it too.”

You grabbed his hand, the calluses on it rough against your palm. “Rhett Floyd Abbott. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are perfect for me. I don’t care what you do, all I care about is who you are.”

He let out a self-deprecating chuckle, “Well, I’m not that good of a man.” “Rhett, I’ve been with you for a year now. You are that good of a man.”

You brought a hand up to his face, nails scratching at the stubble there, “I know my worth, Rhett. And you have given me nothing but what I deserve and then some. I’ve never met a man like you, and I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone like you again.”

With his free hand, Rhett quickly tilted the brim of his ball cap up and captured your lips in a kiss.

Your lips moved together and Rhett’s free hand pushed the hair out of your face, deepening the kiss at the same time.

When you pulled apart, you nudged his nose with yours, “I don’t care what they think about you. They’ll just have to get over it. Because you make me happy, and that’s all that matters. I love you, Casanova.” He grinned, “I love you too, Doc.”

Rhett got out and jogged over to your side to open your door.

You walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

A few minutes later, your mom answers the door.

She gasps and hugs you, “Oh, Y/N! Sweetie, come in come in!” You grabbed Rhett’s hand again and pulled in behind you.

You followed your mom to the living room, where your dad was sitting and watching some show.

“Who’s this handsome young man?” Your mom asked as she sat next to your dad.

Smiling, you put your arm around Rhett’s waist, his hand automatically falling to your hip. “Mom, Dad, this is Rhett, my boyfriend. Rhett, this is my mom, Lily, and my dad, Tom.”

Rhett shook your parents' hands, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Rhett,” your dad smiled at him and you and Rhett sat down.

Your dad paused the TV and turned to talk to you both. “So, Rhett, Y/N has never mentioned what you do for a living.” You tense a little bit. You just knew Rhett was gonna take that the wrong way; but it wasn’t like you did it on purpose, they never asked. “What do you do?”

Your boyfriend glanced down at you before looking back at your parents. “My family owns a ranch, so I work there and then I’m a bull-rider.” Your mother’s eyes widened and you were certain the color drained from her face.

But your dad didn’t give the same reaction as your mom. “That’s interesting, you’ll have to tell me more about that later,” your dad unpaused the TV and went back to watching the show.

Rhett turned to you, “Is there a place we can talk?” You gulped, nerves working their way up your throat. “Uh, yeah, we can talk in the kitchen.” He got up first and held his hand out for you to take.

You knew he was upset, and once you were standing, you tried to drop Rhett’s hand and he let you. Yup, he was upset.

You led him to the kitchen and you leaned back on the counter, crossing your arms and keeping your eyes glued to his boots.

“Does what I do embarrass you?” You met his eyes, “No, Rhett.” “Then why did you never tell your parents what I do?” “They never asked, so I didn’t say anything.” He just nodded and wiped his mouth. “Rhett, look, I’m sorry. I should have told them. Because I’m not embarrassed, I love that you’re so passionate about what you do. Do I think it’s dangerous? Yeah, but guess what, I would never ask you to quit.”

You stepped forward and grabbed his hands, and he looked up at you. “Rhett, you could be a rodeo clown and I’d still love you. I’m not with you because of your job, I’m with you because you make me happy. You’re my sweet, sweet country boy and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” You saw the blush through the tan skin on his face.

“We cool?” You asked, a hint of humor in your tone. He hummed and pecked your lips, “We’re cool.” You smiled and laced your fingers with his to go back to the living room.

******

After sitting and talking with your parents, you all ate dinner.

“Dinner was great Mrs. Knight, thank you,” Rhett said when he finished. “Thank you, Rhett.” He grabbed your plate and his plate and put them in the sink. “Oh, Y/N and I will get the dishes, Rhett,” you mom told him. “Oh, I don’t mind.”

Your dad cleared his throat, “Actually, Rhett, I was going to ask if you could help me with something in the garage?”

Rhett glanced at you and you shrugged, but you stood up and waved him on to follow your dad.

They went out the door in the kitchen that led to the connected garage.

Your dad leaned against the car and crossed his arms over his chest. Rhett took in his body language. “You didn’t need my help with anythin’ did you?” Your dad shook his head, “No, I wanted to talk to you.”

Rhett felt a pang in his chest. Okay, this is it, get ready to defend yourself, Abbott.

“I think it goes without saying that Lily and I were hoping our daughter would end up with a doctor or a lawyer.” Rhett nodded, you had told him that when you first got together. “But I learned a long time ago that Y/N is her own person, and that she knows what she wants.”

Rhett’s brow creased in confusion, but he let your dad continue. “You’re a good man, Rhett. A lot better than the past partners Y/N’s had.” Pride swelled in Rhett’s chest. “Thank you, sir.”

You dad grinned, “You wanna know how I know?” He leaned back on the hood of his car. “You’re the only one she’s brought home. And I can see it in her eyes, and in yours, that you make each other happy. That’s all I could ever ask of you.”

******

Meanwhile, you and your mother were having a very different conversation.

“So, you’re dating a bull rider?” You nodded, rinsing off a plate, “Yup.” You sat it on the drying rack.

“Are there not any doctors in Wyoming?” You stop for a second, “Well of course there are, but they’re not my type.” “And a boy that rides bulls and works on a farm is your type? Forgive me, but I don’t believe that.”

You turned to your mom, “First, he’s a man and he works on a ranch. Second, why is that so hard to believe?” “Well, you’ve always dated med students, nursing students, and you dated that one pre-law student.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “Those relationships lasted all of a few months. I’ve been with Rhett for a year. He’s it for me.”

Your mom sighed, “No he isn’t. He’s not good enough for you. You need someone that can provide for you.” “Rhett does provide for me!” You felt tears sting the back of your eyes as your mother confirmed what Rhett was worried about in the car.

“Not in the way a man with a better paying job can.” “Is that all you care about? Money? Is that the only way someone can provide? Because let me tell you something, mother, Rhett has provided me with more than I ever could have asked for.”

Your mom crossed her arms and arched her brow, “Really? What could he possibly bring to the table?” “He brings everything to the table. He brings me peace, love, security, happiness, and himself; because that’s all I’ve ever needed. He’s it for me and nothing you say will change that.”

She tongued her bottom lip, “You’re so different from what we wanted you to be. You could have been a lawyer, or brain surgeon, or some CEO; but no, you’re goddamn sports physician in a town that’s the size of our neighborhood.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as your mom started just laying it on.

“I thought you were proud of me…”

“Yes, but you could have been so much more. My friends love hearing my daughter is a doctor. But what are they going to think when I tell them she’s with a fucking bull-rider that works on his family’s ranch!?” She threw her towel down and put her hands on her hips.

Your jaw dropped and you scoffed. “Is that all my life is to you? A fucking award? Something to brag about to your screwdriver sipping, bleach blonde bitch squad?” A tear slipped down your cheek.

“Well you can only brag about one thing for so long.”

It felt like all the air was punched out of your lungs.

“You were supposed to be everything I couldn’t be.”

That flipped a switch and you stood up straight. “I’m not some vessel for you act out your fucking fantasies. I’m sorry that you thought I was, but it wasn’t my fault you dropped out because you got pregnant with Josh. But you children aren’t playthings that you can make do whatever you want.”

The door to the garage opened and both your father and Rhett came into the kitchen.

Rhett met your eyes and could see the tears in them, but by the way your fists were clenched and shaking and the redness on your face – he knew they weren’t falling anytime soon.

“What’s going on in here?” You mom opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off, “Oh, nothing, just your wife telling her daughter she’s a fucking disappointment!”

Rhett’s eyes widened and he stepped towards you, ready to come to your defense.

“You’re not a disappointment, Y/N,” your dad said before turning to your mom. “Lily, why would you say that?” “Because, Tom, from the moment you let her play sports she’s done nothing but-”

“She’s her own person Lilian! How do you not understand that? I never had a life plan for her other than to be happy!”

“Thomas, she’s a physician in a small town and dating someone that can’t give her what she deserves! He’s just a good-for-nothing-”

“Shut the fuck up.” “Excuse me?”

You stepped towards your mom and Rhett’s eyes widened as he tried to reach for you, but you evaded his grasp. He was honestly afraid you were about to swing at your mother.

“You heard me. Don’t ever talk about Rhett like that. Say whatever the hell you want to about me but you keep his name out of your mouth. I told you already that Rhett is more than I deserve, you just don’t believe it because you’re stuck on some idea that just because he isn’t some rich man sitting stacks of money means that he can’t provide.”

You huffed a breath out your nose, “I’d never thought I would say this, but coming home was a mistake.” You grabbed Rhett’s hand and drug him out of the house.

Your dad clenched his jaw and cut his eyes at your mom, “We’ll talk about this later.”

He ran through the house, calling for you and Rhett to wait.

“Dad, look, I’m sorry-” “Don’t be, sweetheart, please don’t be sorry. I just want you to know that I’ve always been proud of you.” You let out a shaking breath and Rhett squeezed your hand. “Thank you, Dad. But we can’t be here…” He nodded, “I understand. What your mother said… it was uncalled for.” You gave him a hug and Rhett shook his hand. “I love you, Dad.” “I love you too, Sweetheart.

Rhett opened your car door and buckled you in before going to his side and driving away.

*******

You were quiet the entire way to the AirBnB, but Rhett kept his hand on your thigh.

He knew you were trying not to break down, but you had zoned out long before you got to the small bungalow. He could see the tears you had no idea escaped.

When he parked, you didn’t move and he went around to your side.

He opened the door and squatted down to unbuckle you. “Darlin’?” He placed his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth on the inside of your thigh. “Hey, Sweetheart, look at me,” he gently turned your head.

That pulled you back, and he gave you a small smile, but you could see the concern.

You shook your head, “I’m okay, Rhett.” “No, Doll, you’re not. Don’t pretend you are.” He used his knuckle to wipe your tears away. You broke down then and there, and he pulled you into his lap while sitting in the driveway.

*****

After you calmed down enough, Rhett took you inside and you both curled up on the bed.

“I don’t know why it hurts so much. People are proud of me, genuinely proud of me… But one person says otherwise and I break down.” He played with the waistband of your sleep-shorts, “It’s okay for it to hurt. But that one person is selfish, they don’t deserve to celebrate your accomplishments with you. Those people are jealous of you and wish they could do half the things you do.”

He pulled you on top of him and kissed your forehead, “You, Doc, are the best person I’ve ever met. You’re headstrong, loyal, and can ride a mean mechanical bull.” You buried your face in his chest and laughed, “Oh, Lord.” “I’m serious!” He laughed with you.

Your laughter died down and now you were just looking each other in the eye.

“I love you, Doc,” he kissed your nose. You kissed his lips, “And I love you, Cowboy.”

***********

hi! i hope this was enjoyable!

this is the first rhett abbott fic i’ve written but i’m definitely planning more because i love this cowboy

and i definitely want to write more for rhett and doc

tags <3 (thank you for being here) : @sebsxphia​

[nodinoah]

the five-year plan. one

when you were twenty you had sat down and made your five-year plan, you would get married, get your dream house, have your dream career and then at the end of those five years you'd have a kid. everything was going almost perfectly to plan, well that was until your husband came home with divorce papers. now you're somehow trying to stay on track, maybe you could convince your best friend to have a baby with you.

chapter one : the one where you want a baby and jungkook is very confused.

pairing: best friend! jungkook x reader genre: fluff, idiots (friends) to lovers, slow burn, porn with plot. rating: explicit, minors do not interact!! general tags: non-idol!au, ex-husband!jimin, slow burn, unprotected sex, idiots in love, idiot plot, miscommunication, etc...

originally posted : september 18th, 2023

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hi yes this series is abandoned, however i am reposting all of what was completed for those who enjoyed the story !! 🤍

spotify playlist | series masterlist | next chapter >

Being sold the concept of a happily ever after was possibly the worst thing that a mother could do to a daughter. She would think she's filling her daughter's head up with expectations and excitement about what was in store for her. The daughter would live a life being spoon fed stories on silver platters of knights in shining armors and love stories that would triumph all of lives trials and tribulations. But one day she'd have to learn the hard way that love stories were just that, stories.

Because here you are now — 25 and recently divorced from your happily ever after and now you're having to relearn where your place in life is after the end credits roll, being held down by the constant weight of time, because while you're young you still had plans, expectations.

It's a bad habit really, ever since you were a teenager you would sit and say to yourself “Where do I want to be in 5 years?” It likely stems from your fathers main philosophy in life — if you're not working towards living a better life, living the life you dream of? What's the point of living? Sometimes you wonder if he's still unsatisfied even now? Is that the future you have to look forward to? Never being satisfied, maybe that's why he cheated on mom.

The plan had always started fairly simple, when you were 13 it was to graduate from school, get into your dream college. Then you met him, and then that dream college changed to wherever he was going. Then you got a little more in tune with reality about what a valuable degree would be and what you would spend your time working towards. Then it was to get your dream job, get a nice house, get married. And all of those things happened, not necessarily in that order, but they happened.

And then year by year another goal stayed on that list that you never quite reached — have a baby. From the time you were 20 you knew you wanted to have a child at 25, and then the second at 27 so they weren't too far apart in age. You'd be settled in your dream career by then, and J-he would be completely done with his degree, he'd be a practicing physician and it would be the perfect time.

It's too bad that love stories are just stories, and a few weeks after your 24th birthday you learnt that lesson the hard way.

So here you are now, 25, no husband, no more dream house, and still no baby.

One of these things you could change, quite easily actually. It's just basic biology, it doesn't take that much effort to make a baby.

“Have sex with me.”  The words leave your mouth without any preamble. You say it casually, like you've said this exact phrase to him countless times.

“Pardon?” You hadn't actually said those particular words to him before and your entirely sure Jeon Jungkook's brain just short circuited.

He doesn't look like he's just been propositioned but rather like you told him that you killed your boss and need help hiding the body. His face holds a vague look of being slightly terrified but potentially willing to help. Like he just needs a little bit of an explanation and then maybe he could be persuaded.

You give him a pointed look saying ’I said exactly what you think I said’ with your eyes, hoping he gets the message. Yours and you best friends ability to speak with your eyes had been a skill you'd honed in over the year. But even then he still doesn't respond, just continues staring at you like you're gonna laugh and say gotcha I just wanted to see your reaction.

You take a bite of your ice cream, and lean back into the love seat with a sigh like this conversation is troubling you — nevermind that you're the one that started it.

“I know you heard me the first time, Jeon.” You say tone bored, you've never been a fan of repeating yourself. Even during potentially life changing conversations.

“Yeah. No. Yeah, yeah, I definitely heard you.” Jungkook responds sounding just slightly hysterical, looking like he's not sure whether he wants to laugh or completely flee the scene, “I just thought maybe you would give me a little more context."

You scoff, pulling the spoon from your lips with a dramatic pop, you can't help the roll of your eyes, “When have you ever needed context to go along with any of my plans?”

At his expectant gaze you put the ice cream carton in his waiting hands. Jungkook makes an angry face and you're not sure if it's from how good the ice cream tastes or because of the argument that you're probably starting.

“When your plans involve me having sex with you context is required,” He says then pauses, and speaks again like he thought better of it, “Actually, any plan that involves sex, at all, requires context.”

You sigh and turn so you're fully facing him, taking the opportunity to stretch out and put your legs in his lap, your toes touching the other end of the love seat. You can't help but miss your old couch, the one you'd comfortably stretch out on and you could lay down at one end and not reach the other. You miss laying down on it with Ji–him, curled up like you had nowhere to be. You miss resting your feet in Jungkook's lap, your head resting in J–his, a movie playing on screen that the three of you are barely watching too caught up in your conversation to care.

But now you're left in this new apartment all alone trying to navigate where the fuck you're going from here.

Jungkook is still staring at you while angrily munching away on your shared ice cream. He's just waiting for you to provide him with much needed context.

“I want a baby." You say tone serious and he just continues to stare at you tiredly, desperately waiting for you to say more.

"And…?" His voice trails off, and then when you continue to offer him absolutely nothing, he speaks again, "What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, I don't know if you noticed Jungkook, but I just got divorced.” Your words are intentionally condescending, he had been there for you during the whole divorce process, “So it's not like I can just call up Jimin and be like 'Hey I know we just settled the divorced and you basically said never talk to me again, but hmm, what about some break up sex?' Because according to my five-year plan I need to get pregnant by,” you pause to dramatically look at an imaginary watch on your bare wrist, “hmmm, yesterday."

“He didn’t say never talk to me again.” Jungkook ignores the rest of your spiel, giving you a pitying look that makes you feel a little sick.

You hate that look. It's all you've been seeing these days — from your friends, from your family, even from the reoccurring strangers in your life. The waitress at your favorite cafe had given you that look after she had asked if he was in the bathroom and if you wanted his usual, you watched the cogs turn in her head when you gave her a bitter smile and said “it's just me today, thanks.”

Your hurt must be clear on your face because Jungkook chooses to continue speaking and does what he does best, put his entire foot in his mouth, “And I mean, why do you still need to have a baby? The divorce wasn’t a part of the five-year plan either but hey-"

You cut him off by throwing one of your throw pillows directly at his face.

“Right, okay, I deserved that one. That was insensitive.” He says with a sheepish smile.

He offers you a spoonful of your ice cream in consolation, and you happily accept savoring the taste on your tongue.

It's silent for a moment while you debate just moving on, pretending that you hadn't said what you had said. You'd both carry on like it never happened and you would just let the thought linger in the back of your head for awhile.

No, you decide firmly. It's too late to backdown now and you wouldn't get what you wanted if you didn't actually ask.

“I just, I need something to be right.” You say slowly, searching for the words to properly express your thoughts. “This isn’t how my life was supposed to turn out. Like I was supposed to be Mrs. Park Jimin, we were gonna have a house, a dog, and a kid. And well, I've got literally none of that going for me anymore.”

You can't help the bitter laugh that leaves your mouth. Jungkook looks like he wants to say something but you bulldoze through the block in your mind and let the words flow freely.

“Alright, 'cause like right think about it, okay? I'm literally 25 now and it took me and Jimin three years of being friends before we even got together. And then it was four years before we got married. Then we wanted to take our time to explore being a married couple, and then we wanted to get comfortable in our new house, and then we wanted to get settled in our new careers, and then he wanted to finish his residency first, it was just never a good time to have kids. I don't have time to go through all of that again, say I meet someone now, and I go through that whole 10 year process again, I'll be what, 35? You know they literally call those geriatric pregnancies? Geriatric, how fucking condescending. But I digress, you're considered high risk at that point, and if I'm being honest I don't want to do that. I don't want a new relationship, I don't want to go on dates and get to know someone. I don't want to decide if someone is good enough to plan out my whole future with. I just want to skip to the good part.”

“I guess I could go to the clinic and get a sperm donor or something but I’d rather just have my kids' parent be someone I know. Cause I don't want my future kids to have to wonder where they came from. And I really can’t think of anyone else I’d trust more for this.”

You finish off your long winded speech with an expectant gaze at Jungkook.

“That's nice bubs,” He says tone soft and a sweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips, it immediately drops as he takes another bite of your ice cream, his angry eating face back in place, “This is so good. I'm still not having sex with you.”

“Jungkooooooook.” You whine, turning wide pleading eyes on him. A pout firmly on your lips, your face inches from his. “Have sex with me.” 

“No, you freak.” His voice is full of mirth as he pushes your face away. 

[justsome-di]

The Fairest of All Stars: Chapter Five

Andy didn’t mean to become a pirate captain, but after killing the captain of her ship, she finds herself thrust into the role. Years after the incident, she is fierce and feared and recovering from a tropical fever that wiped out half her crew.

Just as they’re about to dock, they find an injured siren left behind by her choir. Andy, drawn to her, pulls her onto the ship and decides to keep her there until she recovers. But with the Navy hunting for both pirates and sirens, Andy has just made her ship an even bigger target for an iniquitous captain looking for revenge.

Warning for suicidal thoughts and violence. Will contain mature scenes.

Also available for free on Patreon (paid members are five installments ahead and will get exclusive bonus stories) and on AO3. If you enjoy reading Stars please consider leaving a comment on AO3, Patreon, or reblogging these chapters! Follow for more updates!

*Fun Fact: fainting during bloodletting was considered a sign that the treatment was working.

Joseph propped Andy up in her bed, ignoring her cries of pain. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. It might as well have been a hammer slamming into her. The pain made her head spin, and her stomach churn. For a moment, she saw white spots dance in front of her vision.

Joseph was quick at least. She had to give him that. The burning in her bones didn’t last long after she was settled onto pillows against her headboard. She could catch her breath and blink until her room became clear in her vision again.

She knew what was coming, and she tried pulling away. Her muscles were useless, though, and she had no strength compared to the men standing in front of her.

Joseph pulled her arm out and held her wrist away from her bed. Pinkey held a bowl under her arm.

“Ready?” Joseph asked Pinkey.

The bastard didn’t even bother to ask Andy before he flicked his scalpel on the inside of her arm. Blood immediately welled up and then dripped down into the waiting bowl. Pinkey held it steady. He caught every drop.

Andy hated being bled. She hated the sting of the scalpel on her arm, cutting through her skin. It was worse that Joseph was a sadist and always waited until she had fainted before he stopped. She always woke up cold and shaking while he carried her blood away, parading it around the whole ship. And for days after, she remained weak. She was a captain for Christ’s sake. It was undignified to be laid low for so long. No one respected weak captains.

Not to mention she didn’t trust Tobi to make good decisions while she was in her bloodless daze.

Sweat broke out on Andy’s brow and then the back of her neck and then all of her. She tried taking a deep breath.

“Stop,” she said.

Deep in her stomach, she felt the usual cramping and nausea rising. Her chest ached as it spread upward. 

“You’re almost done.”

Joseph mopped the sweat from her forehead. She made the most pathetic sound. Her lips were numb. Her limbs were cold. Blood rushed into her ears, and she heard the ocean roaring inside her head. She tried taking another breath in through her nose. She needed air, she needed something to get to her brain and her limbs and anchor her body down to the bed.

Andy wanted to beat Joseph with her fists, pound on his arms to make him stop. She wanted her blood back. She wanted to scream at him that she understood why he was a disgraced surgeon, why no one ever wanted him to treat them. He was a shit physician. He was disgracefully terrible at his job. When she was well again, she was going to kick him off her ship and put him right back in the bar she had found him in. She’d pray for the first time in years. She’s pray that he would drink himself to death.

She breathed in, deeply, desperate for the air like a starving man desperate for a morsel of food.

She must have fainted before the exhale.

The next thing she was aware of, her head was lying to the side and her body felt more present. Not entirely back with her but at least in the same room as her head.

She opened her eyes, blinking until they stayed open. Her eyelids were almost too heavy to lift.

Right in front of her sat the siren.

If she had the energy, she would have jumped, but as her body was more like that of a corpse, she stayed still. She stayed still, staring directly in the face of the siren.

The siren’s eyes were dark. Andy was lost in them. Maybe on a different day, Andy would see something behind them beyond the raw exhaustion that haunted them. They looked to hold nothing warm or happy. She was a monster, after all. Maybe that was how she looked when she wasn’t singing to lure in her prey. Maybe Andy was wrong to look for something human in them.

The siren leaned forward until her face was only inches away from Andy’s. For a split second, Andy thought she was leaning in to devour her. But the siren’s mouth was gagged. Someone was treating her like a prisoner. And in all fairness, the siren was able to get up and walk around now. Her legs had seemingly healed. Her strength returned much sooner than Andy’s. Everyone who still feared her had to be careful.

Andy saw that her wrists were bound when she raised them above the bed. Her fingers were nearly forced to intertwine, but she managed to extend one of her index fingers above the rest. Slowly, she lowered her hands to Andy’s cheek. Right above the cheekbone and right underneath her eye. Her finger brushed against the skin, so light that Andy would have felt the touch of a ghost better.

She stroked her finger down Andy’s cheek until she reached her jaw. She pulled her hands away and then lowered them to her hair. Between a few fingers, the siren rubbed a lock of hair. She pulled away again.

All of the siren’s movements were so slow, so calculated, so curious. Andy felt like an animal being pet by a small child.

The siren tilted her head. Her eyes, shadowed by dark circles under them, were curious now. There was something in them that put Andy at ease.

“Captain?”

Andy turned her eyes to the doorway. Pinkey and Joseph stood in the doorway again with the bleeding bowl now empty. They stayed still, frozen, unsure if they should take any sudden movements lest they startle the monster.

Andy couldn’t respond. She couldn’t say that the siren wasn’t any harm—that she knew so deep down. It was her gut feeling. Her instinct after fighting so many people. So many humans.

“Miss Siren.” Pinkey put his hands on the siren’s shoulders and gently urged her up. “You should be resting still.”

Joseph eyed the siren and Pinkey suspiciously. He turned to Andy with a worried eye.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

With no strength left, Andy’s eyes closed.

—

Andy slept through the next three days of her fever. Whenever she briefly swam to consciousness, she swore that the siren was watching her. All she could make out with her foggy brain so clouded was her piercing eyes. At night, they reflected the light of the moon and candles, silver and startling. In the daytime, they were dark and hollow.

Joseph assured her that the siren slept just as much as she did when she deliriously babbled to him. She wasn’t watching Andy. She was ill herself, her injuries draining her. She was weak. Her rise from the fainting couch was only a fluke. A rush of adrenaline, fueled by her confusion.

“We can take her out of here,” Joseph offered. “If she’s bothering you. Tobi has a cell for her in the brig already.”

Andy shook her head. She tried wetting her dry lips with her tongue, but her whole mouth was as dry as a desert. All it did was scrape against the mounds of dried, scratchy skin. “She stays.”

The three days felt both long and short. The minutes seemed to drag on when Andy stared at her ceiling, trying to find one spot to focus on that wasn’t spinning around her. The hours went by quickly when she lay through them, unconscious and unaware of everything around her.

Joseph rubbed her joints with balm. He massaged her muscles. He flipped her around on her mattress despite her groans of pain to avoid bed sores. Andy remained ungrateful through it all—through every temperature check, through every towel that wiped away her sweat, through every finger pressed against her pulse point.

On the fourth day, her fever broke.

She woke early in the morning, before Joseph’s first visit of the day. The sun was just rising. Her room was filled with the warm light of sun rays falling through the window and over her bed like an extra blanket. Summer was approaching.

There was little pain. The deep, splintering pain all over her body had been replaced by a dull throb. When she breathed, it no longer felt like glass shards lined her lungs. Her joints could bend with some ease. There was only a small protest from her body when she rolled over on her mattress.

In her line of vision, just as she had been, laid the siren. She stared ahead at Andy. Her mouth was still gagged, her hands still bound. Only a blanket covered her body. Her bare shoulders were exposed.

They locked eyes and didn’t look away.

"If you come over here, I’ll untie you,” Andy said. Her voice was gravelly, and her throat ached at every syllable.

The siren stared.

“Do you speak human languages?” Andy asked. “Do you speak English?”

The siren nodded. She pulled her blanket off of her and gingerly set her feet on the floor. It looked painful for her to stand, but she managed it. Her steps forward were slow.

“Wait,” Andy said. “Hold on.”

The siren was naked. Andy could see scarring along her legs where the fishing net had been wrapped around her tail. Each scar was pink and inflamed but definitely healing. They wrapped around her legs and to her waist and just brushed her stomach. In places, the flesh caved in. Some wounds were still scabbed over, dark and tight and puckered up. There was little untouched skin on her legs. The fishing net had been more brutal than Andy remembered.

“Get that coat.” Andy gestured to the coat that she had been wearing the night she pulled the siren from the rocks. It laid over her desk, covering a mess of books and journals and maybe an old meal. “Cover yourself with it.”

With her hands still bound, the siren couldn’t do it yet. But she carried it with her to Andy’s bed. It dragged on the floor beside her. At the very least, as she held it in front of her, it covered her genitals and legs.

Andy reached for the ropes around her wrist. The siren’s skin was rubbed raw from them, though they looked to have been treated already with some sort of balm. Andy’s fingers rested on the knot.

“If I take these off, will you eat me?”

Andy knew, deep down, that the siren wouldn’t hurt her. There was no need to. It would have happened by now, Andy thought. If she were strong enough, if she were malicious enough, she wouldn’t have sat in that room, on that couch, for so long.

The siren sneered as best as she could. Her nose wrinkled, and her brow furrowed. She shook her head aggressively. It was as if she was disgusted by the idea of eating Andy.

“Okay, Christ.” Andy worked on the knot. “You don’t have to be appalled.”

The knot fell away easily. Whoever tied it mustn't have thought she was a major threat. Andy unwrapped it from the siren’s wrists. Someone had taken pity. The same person who had treated the rope burns.

“You can do the rest yourself.”

The siren reached behind her head and untied the gag. She grimaced and touched her cracked lips. The corners of her mouth were dry and red. Very irritated and on the verge of bleeding.

Andy could see now that the siren looked a little more human and a little less dead. Her face was covered in healing, small scratches, but it had recovered a healthier pallor. Her eyes, most importantly, no longer carried that haunted look. There was some clarity to them now.

“Can you talk?” Andy asked.

“Of course I can fucking talk.” The siren pulled the coat over her shoulders.

“Oh! And what a foul mouth you have!”

Andy was pleased to hear foul language come from such a beautiful mouth and voice—which was deeper than Andy would have expected. She spoke clearly with some sort of inflection that sounded like an accent a human would have. Something similar to Andy’s father’s.

In her head, Andy suspected that the siren would be passive and helpless. Andy had imagined herself as her hero and that the siren would be grateful for her. But she seemed to be in a bad mood. She was much different than the siren that had touched her cheek nights ago. Definitely different than the one writhing in pain on those rocks.

Andy didn’t want to stop talking.

Part of it was because she was a siren, and Andy was curious. Another part was because she thought the siren was very beautiful and talking to her would let Andy look at her longer. It was as simple as that. Andy liked pretty women, and that was apparently not limited to human women.

“I was told a story once about a siren," Andy said. She wanted it to be clear that she knew a thing or two about sirens. Or that she had at least heard about them. "Apparently, she was beautiful. But she ate someone. She has three rows of teeth."

The siren stared at her, mouth opening to form a response but then closing again. Finally, she settled on, “I think that was just a story.”

“Probably was.” Andy leaned back and sighed, trying to make it appear that she wasn’t bothered by the siren’s dismissiveness. “The man who told me wasn’t the most trustworthy, but you can never tell what’s right or wrong at sea.”

"Does it look like I have three rows of teeth?"

"Well, not right now."

“Maybe that man was lying because he was the one who killed and ate that man.”

“Humans don’t eat other humans,” Andy said. Then, she quickly corrected herself. “Some humans do. But not this one never did. Or, well, not that I know of.”

There was really no reliable information on sirens. With excitement and pride, Andy realized that she must have been the first person to get so close to a siren and live. She was actually having a conversation with one.

“I know other stories,” Andy said.

“I don’t want to hear them.”

“You tell me a story about humans then.”

“Humans nearly killed me a week ago. The end.”

Andy hummed. “Not much a storyteller, I see. That’s fine. We’ll practice together.”

The door to Andy’s cabin opened. Pinkey walked in with a jar of thick, yellow salve. He looked startled to see Andy and the siren sitting next to each other, the siren unbound and ungagged.

“Captain, you’re awake,” Pinkey said. “You’re both awake.”

The siren held out her hands for the jar. “I’ll take that.”

Pinkey’s eyes widened, and he held out an accusatory finger at her. “You’re talking! Has she been talking to you, Captain?”

“Of course.”

The siren glanced between Andy and Pinkey. She waved her fingers for the jar.

“All the times I’ve just sat and chatted at you, you knew exactly what I was saying?” Pinkey asked.

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you try to say anything back? I would have taken that nasty rag from your mouth if I had known.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Pinkey handed her the jar. Andy could see that he looked disappointed but still awe-struck. It took a lot to get Pinkey down.

The door opened again. Joseph let himself in and immediately cast a dark look at the siren and Andy.

“What did you do, Andy?” he asked.

“Fill me in on something,” Andy said. “When did I give my crew permission to enter my rooms without even knocking?”

“When your brain was boiling with a fever. I think what you’re trying to say is ‘thank you.’”

“Well, I was having a conversation with our guest before you rudely interrupted. I’m doing my best to be a good host.”

“I was done with the conversation,” the siren said.

“I bid you adieu, then,” Andy sighed. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

The siren looked like she really didn’t want to smile, but Andy caught just a little bit of one anyway. She turned her head away quickly.

With too much confidence, the siren stood. Her legs shook, and she pitched forward. Pinkey caught her.

“Be careful, Miss Siren,” he said.

The siren let him help her back to the fainting couch.

“So, she talks?” Joseph asked, sitting at Andy’s bedside.

“And swears like a sailor.”

Andy rolled her head over to watch Pinkey help the siren sit. She pushed Andy’s coat off of her legs and examined her own scars. Her touch was gentle and tender as she accessed the remaining damage.

“She healed fast,” Andy said. “Her legs are fine.”

“They’re not,” Joseph said. “I suspect there’s some underlying permanent damage. Her wounds went deep. There could be lasting weakness or pain.”

“But, I mean, the wounds are healing. It would take ages for my flesh to grow back like that.”

Joseph went through his examination of Andy, checking her joints and temperature and pulse. She let him poke and prod her but deliberately did nothing to help. She let her body stay limp while he tried his best to bend her arms and legs.

“My hypothesis is that sirens heal faster than humans. Sea creatures can do remarkable things to mend themselves. Such as starfish. They can grow their limbs back after they’ve been severed.”

“She’s not a starfish.”

“That’s an outstanding observation, Captain.”

Joseph pulled Andy’s blankets back over her body. She was at least dressed. At some point, Joseph had wrestled her into a shirt.

“Why didn’t you give her any fucking clothes?” Andy asked.

“She couldn’t stand them,” Joseph said. “We swear we didn’t keep her naked for our own amusement.”

“Mm.”

Pinkey was covering the siren with her blanket. She didn’t seem to mind that she was naked. After all, she was naked in the sea all the time. Unless there were underwater tailors that Andy didn’t know about.

“Rest,” Joseph told Andy. “If your fever doesn’t return, I’ll let you get up tomorrow.”

Andy didn’t want to wait. She didn’t want to have Tobi in charge more than he had to be. But her body was still quite heavy and sore, and her eyes were itching to close.

“Do you want us to bind her and gag her again?” Joseph asked.

“No.” Andy shook her head. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

If the siren ended up killing her in her sleep, then so be it. It would at least be an exciting way to go.

“Pinkey has been standing guard at your door. I’m not sure if it’s for you and the crew or her.”

Foolish man. A great gunner but awful emotions. 

“Tell him it’ll be fine,” Andy said. “He should be doing his job, anyway.”

Joseph and Pinkey left, and the room was silent. Andy tucked her hands behind her head and looked up at the ceiling. She’d interrogate the siren later, learn everything about her species and why she was so tame. If she really wanted to, Andy thought, the siren could definitely kill everyone on her ship. So why didn’t she? Was there some code among sirens to only kill troublesome humans? Or to spare the ones that helped?

She needed to learn more.

“Hey,” Andy called. “You have a name?”

The siren opened her eyes and looked Andy over.

“Syan.”

“Syan,” Andy repeated. “Mine’s Andy.”

She liked how Syan felt on her tongue, how it pushed itself out of her mouth. It took command. Sharp. Just like the woman herself, it seemed. Commanding. Dominating. All the things Andy loved.

Andy wanted to say it again and again and again.

[pjstafford]

When Scully decides to become a brain surgeon...

A month after Fox Mulder and Dana Scully moved into their first shared and fully owned home together (although only Scully ‘s name was on the title), Mulder sits outside alone, star gazing.  His mind returns to the year they had been on the run until the time came to meet Skinner at an appointed place for some news. 

“The story we told at the bureau was that Mulder kidnapped Scully after he escaped prison.  That way Scully could always return to the bureau, and they were less likely to shoot to kill if you were discovered.  It was for the best.   Last week, I told the bureau I had been contacted and Scully escaped Mulder.”

They were in Skinner’s car, in the parking lot near a diner so far out of nowhere that it wasn’t on a map. 

“Won’t they want to question me?”  Scully knew, in the planning, she was to be “kidnapped”, but wondered why the decision now to have her “escape.”

“Hell, no.” Skinner said.  “There’s been some changes in the bureau, and no one wants to talk about the agent that was charged and found guilty of murder, despite the lack of a corpse, and then how he escaped and kidnapped another agent.  No one wants to find you, Agent Mulder, and no one wants to talk to Scully.”

“So, we are free?” Mulder asked with caution.

“Scully’s free.  She can go back to DC, see her family, leave you.”  Skinner glanced at Scully to see if she showed any interest in leaving Mulder.  It was clear she did not.   “Or you can keep hiding, Mulder, and Scully, if she is careful, can work and have a life.  We can’t take the risk of some ambitious field agent recognizing you and bringing you in for questioning.  The best thing is for you to settle down somewhere out of the way with lots of space and just stay there.  No one will be looking for you.  All you must do is stay in hiding.”

“House arrest?” Mulder said dryly.

“But not running,” Scully said “Not constantly looking over our shoulders.  I can work, Mulder.  I can call my mother.

Mulder could see the tears forming in Scully’s eyes and the pleading in those eyes behind the tears for him to be ok with it.  Of course he was.  Scully deserved all he had and could ever give. 

So here he sits now in the home of his metaphorical house arrest.  He has space.  Three bedrooms so they could do yours, mine, and our space.  Acres upon acres of land around them.  The type of home he always wanted.  Scully had started to go into town to shop for work clothes, interview for jobs, and soon he would be here alone while she worked.  As if to get him used to this, she has started to spend more time in her own room – her office- reading medical journals and searching the web.  He is glad for her.  He is just having some issues adapting to the new normal. 

Scully comes out now to join him.  The heat of a summer night surrounds them. 

After their time so close for the last year, Mulder reads her moods better than ever.  There is something she wants to say to him and yet is nervous about saying to him.  He lets her speak in her own time. 

“Would we have money enough for us if I didn’t return to work right away?”

Mulder heart leaps at the thought of them spending time together here now for a while, but he could sense there was more to come, so he only nods. 

“Are you sure?  We just bought the house and you paid for it in full.”                           

“Scully, we have money.”  Mulder never went into details about liquidating his parental assets and hiding the money in alias identify accounts.   “But how about the job offer at the private Catholic hospital?  I thought you wanted to return to work.” 

“I applied for a residency program.  It’s very prestigious so I didn’t think I would get in, but its for experienced physicians who wants to change specialties.  Normally, a residency like this would take seven years, but with my experience in autopsies and the number of neural autopsies, I can cut the time in half.”

“A residency in neural science?”  Mulder asked in a puzzled voice.           

“A residency in neurosurgery.” 

“Brain surgery?”

They sat in silence for a moment or two.  So many layers of pain, trauma, and loss they haven’t processed fully.  They were on the run.  They were mourning the loss of career and connections.  They were mourning their son.  They were recovering from the time Mulder was gone, abducted, and even once dead.  It comes to Mulder then. The thing, through all the time together, neither had ever mentioned. 

“Scully, I’m ok.”

“Mulder” she reached up and kisses his forehead.  “Your beautiful brain.”

“I’m ok.  When you cured me of becoming a super soldier, you cured me of all my other diseases.”

“It could come back.”

“Anything could happen.  I could have a heart attack or another type of disease.”

“The rubbing.  It impacted your brain.  Why?  We never really knew.  Then, you had surgery and the surgeons left you for dead.  Then, you had a brain disease you didn’t tell me about.”

“Then, I died and was resurrected, and you made me well and whole again.”

“But, your brain, Mulder.  If it came back, I wouldn’t know how to cure you again.  I need to do this. “

“How many times do you expect to miraculously cure me in one lifetime, Scully?”

Scully smiles a simple smile then.  “As many times as needed.”

Scully’s tone changes.  “It’s not just for you, Mulder.  There is a significant shortage of neurosurgeons and there is a need.  I know I can do this and then, I can do some real good in the world.”

Mulder knows there is no use trying to return to the discussion of her fear of losing him or her sense of betrayal because he didn’t tell her about his disease back when he had it before he was abducted.   Scully has put up her impenetrable shield and is compartmentalizing her motivations. 

“I think you should do what you feel you should, Scully.  If you want to do a residency, I’m sure you will succeed, and you don’t need to worry about money.”

He knows the best way to end the subject is always with a joke.  “Don’t think I don’t know the real reason you want to become a neurosurgeon.”  She looks at him now knowing a joke is on its way.

“So, when someone says, you know it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to…”  Mulder begins. 

Scully interrupts.  Her eyes are sparkling now at the adventures before her.  “I can say – leave me alone then and call me when it does take a brain surgeon.” 

Mulder gently kisses his soon-to-be brain surgeon life partner. 

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Type 3

As requested by @sleepyowlwrites, here's a little prequel to this story:

There are three permanent types of diabetes, he remembered from his training. The first you're born with, and have to manage using insulin. The second you pick up during your life, and can sometimes manage with changes to diet and exercise, or other medication. The third you contract upon your death. There's nothing you can do about that.

Dr Theodore 'Ted' Spong was a good-humoured man. As parish physician, he had to be. People only came to him with complaints, and he couldn't very well meet them with his own; if he had any grumbles or gripes, he'd long since learnt to tuck them away, like the good brandy he kept in a cabinet back home. He largely worked in the public eye, but some things were best mulled over in his own time.

He hadn't grown up in the sticks, but he liked it here. Outside of surgery hours, he enjoyed long walks across the moors, taking in the beauty of the mist-soaked landscape; within them, he met a range of fascinating characters, the sort of people you never got to meet in the city, each with their own idiosyncrasies and health complaints. He'd come across conditions he'd only read about, and patients who'd never learnt to read.

The people here led simple lives, divorced from the innovation and progress that drowned the city in smoke, but that meant his job had been anything but. They could be credulous at times, and a large part of his time was spent championing science over superstition, miracle cures and folk remedies. Unfortunately, they now had a champion as well.

There was a new doctor in town, by the name of Madame Silja, and she was undoing all of his hard work. To call her a doctor was a courtesy, for she had clearly never studied for a licence as he had, or read any book of medicine less than a century old. She was driving his parish backwards, towards the dark ages of draining bad humours away, although he never saw her wading for leeches on his walks. In fact, he'd barely seen her at all, until the night she showed up at his surgery door.

"I feel unwell," Silja said. She looked it, too. Her face was gaunt and drained, her body likewise emaciated underneath her clothes, visible even in the gloom. This was a woman at death's door as much as his.

Ted fought the temptation to gloat. Oh, and the leeches didn't hit the spot? Come crawling for some proper medicine, have we? That wouldn't be right. Nemesis or not, this woman lived in the parish, and that made her his patient. He was a good natured man, and a physician first of all. If he was to bring her out into the light, the best way would be to lead by example.

"What are your symptoms?" he asked, ushering her inside. She stood uncertain in the doorway, perhaps also having second thoughts about coming to him for help, but there was no time to lose. "Please, come in."

"I feel... tired," she told him, collapsing on a proffered armchair. The cushion barely sank under her weight.

"You're losing weight?"

Silja nodded. "I'm losing my appetite. But in its place there's this incessant thirst, a void no amount of water seems to sate."

"Any changes to your mood? Feeling suddenly irritable?

"What do you think?" she snapped. "I've just told you I'm thirsty all the time. Yes, it's irritating. Have you ever had an itch that you can't scratch?"

Ted usually told his patients not to scratch any itch, but he kept quiet and let her settle down. Madame Silja seemed so frail, but there was still something threatening about her - something unsettling and strange. It was a tingle at the back of his neck, like something primal, but he forced it down again. He wouldn't scratch that itch either.

He had no room for prejudice in his work, nor outside of it, and that was probably all this was. He didn't often see people with her kind of ancestry, not since he'd left the city. Whatever ancestry that was. Her skin was dark, although it seemed that it had since grown paler. She reminded him of a colleague from his studies, an Ottoman doctor by the name of Şefik. Was her name similar? Perhaps he could try to build a bridge between them.

"Tell me - you wouldn't happen to have any Turkish blood in you, by any chance?"

"Oh, I dare say I might," Silja replied. The question had served its purpose, for she flashed a smile for the first time, but Ted found himself more unsettled than ever. "Why do you ask? Is it something to do with my illness?"

"No, no, I was just curious," he said, increasingly nervous. "I know it isn't my place to guess, but I thought I'd take a stab in the dark."

"I'm not a fan of those, as a rule," she said. "But thank you for taking an interest. My patients are... rarely conversational. I don't often get to talk about myself. Do you find the same? Do you live nearby?"

"The good news is that I think I recognise your symptoms." Ted moved back onto steadier ground. "Although I'll need to take a blood sample."

"Oh, of course."

"For testing," he clarified. Anxiety or not, he wouldn't tolerate any of that nonsense here, in his temple of modern medicine. "Then we'll move on to treatment."

It was diabetes, he was sure, but he didn't know which strand. Was this a late diagnosis of type one? She didn't look much like a typical case for type two. There were others, he knew: gestational diabetes, picked up in pregnancy to meet the additional demands on the body. Perhaps it was something like that. A change, as if the whole body was gestating, metamorphosing into something... no, there was no medical basis for that. What was he saying?

"You might need to start taking medicine," he told her. "But mostly I suspect you'll need to make some changes to your diet."

"That's fine by me," she said, flashing another awful smile. "I'd figured that part out myself."

[intubatedangel]

Code Red : Chapter 2

Merry Christmas everyone! I managed to get the next chapter done for you all. It was a little hazy writing this one, between work crunch and an allergy attack (nothing major, think hayfever but thanks to dustmites) leaving me feeling horrible. I’m still happy with it though, so here it is. Hope you all enjoy it and have a great holiday!

Story Index  

Chapter 1

* * *

Carl looked up at Clarissa, the question prompting an ingrained reaction. "This is Kevin, male, late 20's - early 30's. Fell as much as 4 stories. Open left tib fracture. Likely compound fractures to right tib and fib, with potential fractures to both femurs. Querying pelvic and spinal trauma. Clear dislocation of right elbow, unknown damage to left arm, its pinned beneath him. Confirmed opiate use, we're attempting ketamine for analgesia preceding log roll and immobilisation." Carl took a breath. "We just called it on his girlfriend, looking at possible suicide attempt." He finished.

That doesn't fit. A voice in the back of his mind told him. If you’re trying to end it, you go higher than four floors. You're missing something.

He dismissed the thought. It didn't matter if Kevin had been trying to kill himself. Psych could run that. Carl's job was to give him the best chance of walking out of whichever kind of hospital he ended up in.

No! Think!

Carl shook his head, ignoring the unsettling tirade of his subconscious.

"I'm in!" Trish shouted, ramming the syringe of ketamine into the now secured IV port. It was enough to distract Carl away from the nagging thoughts. He could see it clearly, the high dose of tranquilizer sapping the tension from Kevin's body, leaving him much limper and more pliable.

"There we go. Roger, pass the backboard down." He ordered, accepting the head of the spine board as it was passed along the nurses and laid next to the crumpled young man. "Dr. Stelling, I need you to steady the left leg, we can reduce and splint in the trauma room." As the head of the emergency department, Clarissa was his senior, but Carl was first on scene. Unless Stelling specifically claimed his patient, protocol was to follow the orders of the primary physician. She knelt down, manipulating Kevin's leg until it was roughly in line with the rest of his body. He moaned at that, but the powerful drugs, both illicit and administered, kept him from actively resisting.

"Ready to roll." Stelling announced, without a hint of irony or sarcasm.

Carl looked around the nursing team. Why isn't she here yet? No time to dwell on it. Everyone present looked ready. "On 3. 1...2...3!" In a coordinated manoeuvre the team rolled Kevin onto his back, keeping his spine straight, while Stelling ensured there was no further damage to his leg. "Primary immobilisation." Carl commented, though the nurses were already working the straps of the backboard. A pair of foam blocks were placed either side of Kevin's head and secured, allowing Carl to pull his hands away and settle back to get an overview.

With the young man on his back Carl could see his other arm and hand, and his torso. It was bloody, yet there was no obvious lacerations or open injuries. That doesn't fit either. What's missing?

"Carl." Stelling's voice dragged his attention again. "That's the best we can get here."

"Right." He replied, forcing his focus to the patient before them. "Everyone got a piece?" He said, prompting the gathered nurses to grab various handholds of the hard backboard. "3 again. 1...2...3!" Together they lifted Kevin into the air, shuffling the few steps over to the waiting gurney. "And down, gently." He commanded.

Damned fool! WHO is missing!

Carl paused, while the nurses gathered the equipment on the ground, preparing to move the gurney to the nearby trauma room. He answered the thought. Anna. But she needed to take a break. She'll be in her usual spot. He looked upwards instinctively. Whenever she needed to take a moment, she would go to the top of the stairs. These stairs.

Something flashed past the corner of his vision, too fast for him to identify.

"What the fu..." Trish exclaimed, barely catching herself.

Carl's gaze snapped to her, glimpsing the dark streak on the back of her scrubs before she turned her back away from him as she leaned down to pick something off the floor. She straightened staring at the object in her hand, before a look of horrified recognition shattered her face.

Suddenly unsteady, Carl took a step forward, reaching for Trish's hands. Before he could touch her, she angled her fingers towards him. Cradled in the digits was a familiar sight. The locket he had given to Anna just this last weekend.

It glistened with the crimson sheen of fresh blood.

Even as the realisations cascaded together, he was already dashing up the stairs, ignoring the shout from Dr. Stelling.

* * *

Anna let out a sigh when she saw the locket drop over the edge, before the whole world seemed to flicker. She was no longer looking across the floor, but straight up at the tiles of the suspended ceiling.

Had she been unconscious for long? She was still on her own. She was still alive. Her mind was sluggish, but she figured it must have just been a momentary lapse. The tiles above her seemed to flex and distort as her vision wavered. Her hearing was fuzzy too. None of the noises down below carried to her now. The only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat in her ears, a soft, laboured thrumming. Her whole body felt distant, numb and cold.

Vaso constriction re-directing blood from the extremities. A quiet intellectual part of her brain supplied. What a lovely fact to bring to your own attention when you were bleeding to death. She was running out of time.

Did he get the locket? Or had he already left? Anna's eyes rolled. She wasn't sure if it was intentional, a response to her own questions to herself, or if it was because her consciousness was hanging by a whisper thin thread.

Hold it together for just a little longer. He's coming. He has to be coming. Just stay alive until he gets here. That was a better response. Though numb and practically lifeless, Anna managed to drag her arm across her body, placing her hand over the wounds. At least they were close together. She didn't have the strength to apply any serious pressure, but maybe it would help.

Her hands were desensitised from the reduced blood flow, but she could still feel the warm wetness of her saturated scrubs beneath her fingers. The sensation was enough to let her recognise the same feeling encasing her belly and flowing down her right side. Seeping under and spreading across her back.

The pool of blood was still growing, even though it only seemed to be oozing between her fingers now, instead of the spurting rush of earlier. She let her head fall to the side. It was hard to tell from this angle, almost parallel to the floor, but it seemed pretty big. She wondered how much blood she had already lost.

Is this really what we want to be thinking about right now? How close we are to .... gone? If she'd had the strength Anna would have shrugged to herself. She needed something to keep herself occupied. Keep herself awake. Figuring out ones current medical status was far better than counting the tiles on the ceiling. Without getting a top down view she could only make a rough guess. The sanguine puddles were both large. Her heart continued to thrum in her ears. The skin of the arm lying next to her body was beyond pale, almost a ghostly white. She became aware of her breathing. Quick, shallow. Almost gasping.

Damn. She was already well into stage 4 of hypovolemic shock. Or would that be haemorrhagic shock? 40% of her blood was no longer inside her.

What was that? Anna refocused her eyes. She hadn't even noticed that she'd zoned out, tip toeing the fine line of losing her grasp on reality itself. She didn't see anything. She tried to focus on her hearing. For a moment she could only perceive the thumthumthumthumthumthumthum of her racing heart. But then there was something else. Footsteps. Loud, dashing footsteps. Then a shout. Two syllables shouldn't be hard to understand, but they were just so fuzzy.

He shouted Anna, dummy. That made sense. Wait. HE shouted. There was another exclamation. Just one sound, but repeated a few times. She knew that voice. She'd been waiting for that voice.

Movement. Her vision had gone all cloudy again, but she convinced her eyes to work together. She could see him. Just his face. The look on his face broke her heart.

"Anna!" He screamed, lurching into motion as he sprinted up the last few steps.

* * *

Carl bounded up the steps, two at a time, his comfortable but hard wearing footwear making loud clacks as it impacted the aluminium edging strips of each step he proceeded to launch off. His hand intermittently gripped the handrail, pulling hard to augment his rushing leaps, and holding tight as he swung around the corner of each landing.

"Anna!" He called, halfway up the staircase. She either didn't reply, or it was so quiet it couldn't be heard over the sound of his frantic climb. Neither was a good sign. He turned on another landing, looking upwards, and almost stumbled. He could see the glass panel lining the top landing.

A bloody, smeared handprint stained the glass.

"No! No! No!" He shouted, before launching himself up the last few flights.

He rounded the final landing, slowing as he saw the knife. It lay there on a step, the four inch blade coated in crimson from tip to handle. He forced himself to climb the last few stairs, his legs weak, like jelly, terrified of what he was going to find. On the sixth step his head was high enough to see what was on the landing.

His world almost shattered.

Anna was lying on the floor, a pool of blood beside her. She was still. Gut-wrenchingly, terrifyingly still. Around her abdomen her scrubs were darkened with bloodstains. He looked at her face, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Her eyes were half open, staring blankly. His stomach dropped. For a moment he was certain she was already gone. The woman he loved, the woman who owned his own heart, dead on the false marble floor of the landing.

Her eyes flickered and shifted, focusing. On him. Her hand, laid out on the floor as if reaching towards him, twitched. She was still alive.

"Anna!" He shouted again, leaping forward, bolting up the stairs as fast as his legs would take him.

Carl raced towards, fear filling him as he saw the other pool of blood surrounded by scattered drips. He practically slid on his knees as he rounded her body and dropped down beside her.

"Anna, Anna baby please look at me." He pleaded as he shrugged out of his white coat. Her head rolled, trying to track him, but she was too weak to actually keep it steady. He balled up the coat, then gently pulled away the hand that lay across her belly. He could just barely see the two wounds, a brighter scarlet than the blood darkened scrubs. He placed the coat across them both, intertwining his fingers with hers. They were so cold, each digit like a separate icicle. He guided both their hands over the coat, pressing hard.

Anna whimpered, the pressure sending a spike of pain through her body.

"I'm sorry baby. I'm sorry." He whispered to her as he looked down at her face. Their eyes met, the pain dragging her back to a vague form of alertness. He could see the tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes. She must have been so scared. He shuffled around, keeping his hand tight over her injuries, adjusting his legs enough that he was able to lift her head into his lap. "I've got you. I've got you." He told her, gently stroking her cheek.

"C...arl." She said softly, her gasping breath hitching.

"I'm here Anna. I'm right here." He told her pulling her closer. Her eyes were flickering, drifting away then snapping back to his face as she clung on to consciousness.

"I....wish we....had....more....t....t...time." She whispered, fighting to say each word.

"We'll have all the time in the world baby. You're going to be just fine. I've got you and you're going to be just fine." His voice cracked.

"S...S...Sorry." Anna shook her head ever so slightly.

"No. No, don't be sorry. I'm going to take care of you."

A gasping cry from the stairwell, made him glance up. Trish leaned against the railing, her hands covering her mouth in shock as she tried to comprehend the scene before her.

"Trish. Call a Code Red. Major haemorrhage. We need a trolley and a grab bag up here now." Carl said, his gaze falling back to the woman he was cradling. Trish stood there trembling. Carl turned back to her, finding that commanding voice inside him. "Go! Call a Code Red now!" He roared, finally prompting Trish into motion.

[leebrontide]

Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 9

Here's this week's chapter! Reblogs welcome!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For content warnings and more, check here:

You can follow along by following #SHOSweekly

Chapter 9

Martin’s voice in the elevator was enough to put Opal on edge again. The unexpectedly plush chairs of the clinic waiting room weren’t enough to fix it. The staff here all seemed so grim, somehow. And up this high, the sound of the storm blanketed every other noise with the static, as if it was keeping secrets in the constant shushes of rain and the grumbles of thunder.

She’d settled on calling her mom. Mom’s ridiculous sheep-patterned pajamas and her enthusiasm for Shani’s history project helped. Apparently Opal would be getting a lengthy account of it whenever she managed to reach Shani between summer sleepovers. 

“Everyone still treating you all right?”

Opal smiled, trying to get comfortable. “Aldis and the guys have been great. You got the pictures I sent you of the VIP suite? Oh! Did I tell you Capricorn said he thinks I have grit? And Helix agreed with him.” She couldn’t mention the rest of it-- not here, at least. She couldn’t make up her mind what she really should say. 

“Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you. Are they as handsome in person as on TV?”

Opal laughed. “Mom. They’re all like, 40 and up.”

“And that might as well be a hundred to an 18-year-old. Yeah, yeah.”

“Hey, have you--” 

“I still haven’t heard from your dad. I promise I’ll let you know the minute I do. But you know how this goes. Any little thing.” And they’d revoke his phone “privileges.” It’d been months, once or twice before. Then he’d reappear, looking a little older, a little less steady, chastising Opal for having worried. She hadn’t gotten any letters, either. It was never good when he couldn’t even send letters. But she’d sent hers. She hoped he got them. 

She glanced up as a familiar figure ghosted through the edge of Opal’s line of sight. “Jamie?” Jamie turned, looking haunted. “Hey, Mom. I’m sorry, but I’ll call you later, OK?” 

Martin had said there was a family emergency. If Jamie was down here, it must be a bad one. 

Jamie was, impossibly, paler than usual. She seemed almost blue. Her posture was hunched, as if she was expecting to have to bolt at any second, with her elbows pulled in tight against her body. She also seemed to be by herself. “Hey, are you OK?”

“I’m trying to find Issac’s doctor, but they just keep telling me to go wait with…I need to tell them what happened with Issac. I’m the only one who was there.”

A nice, straightforward request. Opal stood, flagging down the nearest medical professional who didn’t seem to be rushing. She put on her most professional tone. “Excuse me. Ms. Tillman-Voss needs to speak with the treating physician for Issac Tillman-Voss right away. She has important information relevant to his condition she needs to share.” Hanging around Mom’s job when she was little had given her a few tricks, at least.

The woman nodded, and led them to a nurse’s station before disappearing to find the doctor. 

“Ms. Tillman-Voss?” Jamie asked under her breath. “I think they think you’re my bodyguard now.”

Bodyguard? She’d been going for PR intern. “Whatever works,” she muttered back. 

Jamie’s smile was tiny and wobbly. “You do look really grown-up in that.”

“You look like you’re going to faint. You’re not, are you? My mom’s a nurse, but I am very much not.”

“No. I need to talk to the doctor.”

“Are you going to faint after that?”

“I hope not. They won’t treat me here. I’m not altered.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if LodeStar’s kid faints in their waiting room, they’ll pull something together.”

Jamie muttered under her breath, “Not sure he’d care.”

That didn’t sound good. The doctor showed up before Opal could ask, and then she was too busy keeping up with the story Jamie was telling. Every bit of which sounded 100% illegal. By the end of it, Jamie’s voice was painful to even listen to, it was so high-pitched and breathless, but Jamie pushed through. She even brought them a copy of a thesis Issac had written on the subject. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t so horrifying. Brain-changing nanites? You didn’t have to try to think of all the ways that could be misused.

The doctor rushed off as soon as Jamie was done. 

Opal was hit with more doubt than she’d ever had before. What and who had she gotten mixed up with? OK, the Sentinels as a family struggling to cope, she could understand. But a family that attempted to cope by developing more and scarier technology, and testing it on themselves in secret?

Then again, that was how Bion had started. But that was back before altering tech laws had been around. Issac must have known what he was doing was illegal. He should even know why it needed to be illegal. His family took down people conducting illegal alterations all the time. 

But maybe those rules didn’t apply to their son.

She shivered. Exactly how many rules didn’t apply to them?

Jamie didn’t notice Opal’s existential crisis. She was staring down the hallway towards the handful of private waiting rooms like she was expecting a firing squad. She took a tiny, unconscious step backwards, towards Opal. 

And all Opal could remember was Jamie’s comment that nobody would even notice another couple of bruises on her. All three of the kids seemed incredibly isolated. How many laws could the Sentinels get out of?

Opal put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Leaned in to ask quietly, “Are you OK?”

Jamie didn’t look at her. But she pressed her lips so tight they almost vanished. Her eyes were pink. She shook her head, still staring down the hall. 

Maybe it was nothing. Jamie’d had a terrible morning by anyone’s standards. 

Maybe it wasn’t nothing. 

Jamie started, looking at Opal. “My dad! He needs a doctor, too. If he’s in the waiting room, then they must not know. His collarbone’s broken.”

“What? How did that happen?”

“Yael.” Jamie said, flinching as she realized too late that that was bound to beg questions. “There was a-- xe was afraid he-- but that doesn’t matter. He needs a doctor!”

This time it was even easier to get someone’s attention, but Jamie was a lot lighter on the details. She didn’t even mention Yael. Whatever had happened, she was less likely to explain it than she was Issac’s breach of international laws. Nobody pressed her for more details. Doctors rushed to help the injured superhero, and Opal and Jamie stayed put.

Neil Voss passed by a few minutes later, escorted by a nervous-looking medical person and Capricorn. Capricorn looked grim, and had a hand on LodeStar’s arm. LodeStar ignored Opal completely, his attention stitched tightly to his daughter as he passed. Neither of them said anything to the other. 

Jamie watched him with her own intensity, and a disquieting stillness. LodeStar looked half possessed. His eyes burned blood-red where the whites should have been. His steps were unsteady and slow, but the muscles in his shoulders were coiled, prepared to strike, his hands working themselves into huge metallic fists. Flexing again. Stretching, as if he was imagining grabbing something. Opal had never seen anyone more terrifying in her life. 

He was cordoned off in another room after what felt like an eternity. The two of them both exhaled at the same time. 

Oh God. Opal was in a Gothic novel. And the head of the house was as powerful and utterly unhinged as any she’d ever read. And she’d spent the last...more than two weeks now, trying to move into his house, work under his orders? This was not going to work. She could never trust the orders of someone like that. She could never hurt or arrest anyone on his say-so. She didn’t even want to be in the same room with him.

She’d go home. Go back to Detroit. Save up, and try another team, later. They couldn’t all be like him, could they?

Jamie sat suddenly, barely catching a chair instead of landing on the floor. She was struggling to catch her breath.

Shit. None of the doctors had even looked at Jamie. No one was going to check in on what was happening in LodeStar’s home. What made Jamie look like that? What drove her brother to experiment on himself, rather than have something he might see as a vulnerability in that household?

Opal reached for the only failsafe she could think of close by. “Hey, maybe we should go find your mom?”

Jamie cringed, but nodded, dragging herself back upright. Opal followed close behind, hoping to find some kind of resolution.

* * *

Issac drifted in and out of consciousness several times. Reality had turned slippery, and even awake, he couldn’t seem to grasp hold of it. This time, when he woke, the ground under him felt a little more solid. Time felt a little more linear. 

He kept his eyes closed, trying to shut out reality. Trying not to notice what he couldn’t detect. He tried to focus inward. His mouth and tongue hurt, as if he’d cut them. A seizure, he remembered. Someone had told him he’d had a seizure, one of the other times he’d been awake. He must have bitten himself. His mouth tasted like blood.

He shifted his attention again, but his body was no refuge. His pulse was speeding; his back hurt like hell. There was a needle in his arm. His torso was canted upwards. Another hospital bed. 

More missing monitor noise. 

His mind had never been good at silence. He’d never been able to get it to shut up. To stop noticing. 

Then again, at least it was still working right. At least he did still notice things.

At least he’d woken up. 

Tears pricked at his closed eyes. He’d failed. Air escaped his lungs unevenly, and he sucked it back in, straining against ribs that whined about it, just like the last time. 

Whoever was in the room with him-- there must be someone-- didn’t notice his tears or any unwanted noises. There was no touch to his hand or face. No anything. If he wanted something, he’d have to signal it. He’d have to open his eyes and face whoever was there.

He pried open crusty, itchy eyes. This time, his vision landed first on his own paper-clad lap. 

There was a card in his hand in unfamiliar handwriting. Issac - you have had a seizure. Some confusion is normal. It will go away in a while. Please stop trying to remove the monitoring equipment. Your family will return soon. 

Soon? None of them were even in here with him? He looked up.

There was a man in the room. He was wearing a three-piece suit in brownish gray, with graying, sand-colored hair, and a severely bleached smile plastered on his face. He was sitting in the chair between Issac and the door with his ankle on his knee. As if this was a perfectly normal way to meet someone.

This was not a doctor. 

Issac gasped as his vision developed sudden spots. Black fractured the image in front of him. 

It was text. Good afternoon, Mr. Tillman-Voss.

Issac was wearing contacts. Revulsion rolled through him. He wanted to pull them off. He couldn’t stand the thought of touching them. Either the stranger knew he had them, or he thought Issac could hear. The man stood, still smiling. He reached into his blazer pocket, producing a little slip of paper. He walked the few paces between them, holding it out. A business card. Before Issac could read it, more text crowded the image out. I’m Frank Lasansky of Lasansky Security Technologies. Sorry if I’m catching you at a bad time.

A bad time? Issac wasn’t even wearing pants. How did these contacts end up on his eyes? Where was his family? I heard a while back about what happened to you and I think that’s a shame. Just a real shame. Still smiling. Issac would have punched the guy if he was more confident in his ability to stand up without falling down. There was something off about him-- a fakeness that went beyond his over-bleached teeth. Issac took the business card, but kept watching the man’s face.

It didn’t move right. Some kind of partial paralysis? 

And I thought, there’s a young man I’d like to meet. And my lucky day, I come to find out you’re in this very building when I am! Well, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that, could I? Huh? Right?

Issac didn’t know what else to do, so he shook his head “no.” Did this guy not know Issac lived in this building? How could he possibly not know that? It was Sentinel Plaza.

Lasansky. That name was familiar.

The weird smile stretched wider. Great! Glad to hear it. Because I am just dying to chat with you about those nanites of yours. Issac went cold. The nanites. He must be from the APB? Maybe he was here to take Issac away. Issac felt an irrational urge to check to make sure all his arms and legs were still attached. That they hadn’t been replaced with weaker models. He knew better, and he was being watched. Now, I already heard that this trial didn’t work out. That’s why I took the liberty of providing you with some hardware to help us out in our little chat. He tapped the space next to his eye, looking pleased with himself.

Issac recoiled. He would have assumed that either his parents or a nurse had put the contacts on him. That would have been bad enough. But to think that this random businessman had been touching Issac while he was either asleep or too out of it to have a say sent a spiky, electric chill up his spine. OK, he had his legs, but it felt that much closer to Jenna's fate, all the same.

Lasansky continued, either oblivious to Issac's alarm or electing to ignore it. But hey, these things happen. You can’t get it right on your first try every time, right? Issac wondered whether he was supposed to shake his head again, but this time Lasansky didn’t wait. I want you to know I’m not going to judge you for that. You know? I want you to hear that it’s not your fault. You didn’t have backup. No support. No team. 

Issac's horror ebbed a little, and he tried to shove it down faster. Don’t think about his eyes. This was obvious, and well-thought-out, flattery. This total stranger knew exactly what Issac wanted to hear. The polar opposite of what he’d be forced to sit through whenever his parents showed up to replace the stranger. 

Why was he flattering Issac?

Issac studied the man. The suit was high-end, and almost perfectly tailored, but cut a little too big in the shoulders. There was the smallest of silver roots visible at his hairline. His hands looked noticeably older than his face.

Ah. His face. He’d had too much Botox, too many face-lifts, or both. That’s why his expressions seemed off. Everything about him was pretending. 

Lasansky. Lasansky. He knew that name.

But a little birdie gave me some good news. Word on the street is, it’s your biggest birthday today! He leaned in conspiratorially. Issac leaned in, too, as if it mattered what volume the man spoke at. You’re a free man, Mr Tillman. The world is your oyster.

A free man. So, not arrested, anyway. Lasansky stood. Now I know this is irregular, God knows it’s not usually how we run things at Lasansky Security International, but you, young man, are special. I couldn’t run the chance of them squirreling you away in the attic all alone without my having spoken to you, first.

Of him being sent away like Jenna. 

Mr. Tillman, I am here to make you an offer.  Because the problem with working for the family business is, you have to work for your family! You have to be the baby at work and at home. Have your boss at the dinner table. Be constantly surrounded by people who have what they think are your best interests at heart, but who, deep down, can’t appreciate you for the adult that you are! Now the fact that you had to run this all by yourself tells me that they already gave you the vote of no confidence. They only see Issac the boy, not Issac the man. But I have seen your patent list, and I am ready to give you my full vote of confidence. I believe in your tech. I believe there’s a need for it, and I believe that with the right support, you can deliver your gift to the world. I am prepared to offer you just that support. 

This stranger-- this fake man in a thousand-dollar suit-- understood. Had grasped the whole dynamic of the situation without ever even meeting Issac. Issac glanced down briefly, thinking, and his eyes landed on perfectly shined shoes with a subtly higher-than-average heel. Trying to look tall.

Lasansky was the head of what had to be a huge, heavily politically-connected company, but even he had to pretend to be taller, healthier, younger than he was. No wonder he could understand Issac’s need to fix himself. Even Lasansky wasn’t high enough in the hierarchy to risk exposing even the smallest, most irrelevant weaknesses, like wrinkles or narrower shoulders. 

Well, even Mom wore tall shoes and sought the occasional nip and tuck, didn’t she? She just wore it better, or maybe invested more. 

If even the people at the top-- everyone who wasn’t altered-- had to protect themselves with artificial health and height, where did that leave someone with an actual weakness?

Lasansky approached the tilted hospital bed. Issac had to crane his neck back to keep watching him. He smiled down at Issac with gleaming teeth. Mr. Tillman, how would you like to join the Lasansky Securities family?

* * *

Time bled by Yael at an agonizing crawl. Xe didn’t know how long xe’d been sitting on the cool tile floor of xyr bedroom, not really seeing anything. Xyr back was still against the door, where it was easiest to hear Papa not coming after xyr, not trying to argue through the door. Xe’d let xyr mind go blank, listening to that silence.

When xyr phone went off, Yael jumped so hard xe banged xyr head against the door. Xe grabbed the phone out of xyr pocket, answering to stop its intrusion. Xe forgot all about Papa for a moment when xe realized it was Issac. Or, at least, Issac's phone.

“Hello?” xe asked cautiously, not sure who to expect on the other end.

Issac himself answered. “Yeah. Uhm. Hi.”

Yael's head dropped back, hitting the door with another bang. “You’re OK. You’re OK, right? Oh my Gosh, can you hear me? You’re on the phone!”

There was a pause. “I…no. I have translation software. I can’t hear you.” 

“Sorry it didn’t work.��� And xe was, a little. Mostly, xe was happy he was conscious, coherent and alive. Now they just had to get through the fallout with the APB. Nodiah wasn’t going to be happy.

Issac didn’t even try to hide his discomfort, which was refreshing. “Yeah.” Yael looked behind xyr, as if xe could see through the door. Xe had no idea where Papa was, if he was hearing all of this. “I need your help.”

Yael crossed xyr legs, straightening. Trying not to think about how “helping” him this morning had gone. “What do you need?”

“An escort? I, uhm. I got a job. Just now.” Yael pulled the phone away from xyr ear, and stared at it, baffled. Was Issac actually coherent? “I know that’s weird. But it’s this guy who works with the APB, and he actually believes in my research. Wants to use it to help people.” Official approval! Thank heaven. Issac would be safe, now. Problems were knocking themselves out left and right. 

 “I’m eighteen. I can move out, any time I want to. They can’t stop me. But it’s like… I’ll have to live in just like…a place. Just standard security systems. I’d feel better if you came along, too. You’re almost eighteen. Can you?” A flicker of hesitation. “Will you?”

Yael rushed the phone back to xyr ear, glancing back against the door again. Hopefully Papa hadn’t heard that.

Xyr first impulse was to tell Issac “no.” He was hurt. He needed his family. He needed to be protected, here at home.

Except now, home wasn’t safe, either. He needed safety and family. Maybe Yael really was his best bet for both. Papa wasn’t listening to Yael-- maybe none of the others would, either. 

“On one condition. We have to bring Jamie, too. We can’t leave her here.” Xe hoped Melissa would protect her, but if nobody but Yael saw the danger--

“What? I. But. I mean. If she wants to…You think she would? But she’s sixteen.”

“We have to try.”

“Uh. Sure. Try away.”

“Is…Your mom isn’t with you, now.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re alone?”

“I…I guess they came in earlier. I don’t remember.”

“Have you seen Neil?”

“I guess.”

“Jamie?”

“I don’t remember, OK? Seizures can do that. Just…pack up. I’ll get home when I can to do the same.” He said his goodbyes, which Yael echoed in a haze, then hung up.

Moving out? Xe’d never planned to leave. Xyr room had always just evolved with xyr. This was Yael’s home.

But a home wasn’t such a big thing to sacrifice for your brother and sister. 

Xe heard shuffling outside. Papa’s normally light footfalls were slow and plodding, either because he was just that tired, or to warn xyr he was coming.

The handle beside xyr head turned, and Yael looked over at it as the door tried to shift inward. Yael was more than heavy enough to keep it closed.

Papa’s voice was muffled, but only a little bit irritated. “Yael, I’ve bought you a very large bed, two futons, and an office chair. Why do you insist on sitting on the floor?”

Xe didn’t even bother to pretend to be angry. “I’m being a barricade.”

“Well, stop being a barricade and go back to being my daughter. I need to talk to her.”

Maybe it was just because xe was so upset about everything else, but xe was suddenly annoyed by his misgendering, and didn’t watch xyr tongue. “I’m not your daughter.”

Shit! Yael’d said it before thinking, then realized how Papa would hear it. Xe scrambled to xyr feet and threw the door open.

He was standing there, half turned from the door, his expression a broken attempt at stoicism. He met xyr eyes with a piercing, angry gaze and a mouth that tugged down at the corners, obviously hurt. 

This time xyr blurted words did better. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant-- ugh. You’ve heard Jamie and Issac use non-gendered pronouns for me for five months now. Take a hint!”

The pain in his expression cleared, some, replaced by sincere confusion. “You never asked me to call you that.”

“I thought it would be obvious.”

“I didn’t want to assume. Sometimes siblings have things they don’t want to share with-- I was trying not to intrude!” He shook his head. “This is absurd. Yael, aren’t we having enough fights today? Let’s put this on hold.”

Surprisingly diplomatic of him, even if he was sidestepping something important to xyr. Xe tried to stay calm. Xe crossed xyr arms. “All right. Which fight do you want to have first?”

Papa replied with an exasperated, but not entirely unamused sigh, and stepped forward. Xe let him in. He paused. “How about the one about how your room looks like you’re afraid of drawers, closets and boxes?”

“Really?”

He shoved over a pile of hoodies and sat on one of the futons. “No.” He rubbed his face. 

The silence stretched out. Papa was lost in thought. Yael collapsed onto the opposite futon, toying with the corduroy.

Finally he looked to xyr. “Which do you want to start with?”

Yael spread xyr hands helplessly, shaking xyr head. Xe had no idea how to untangle all of this. But xe didn’t want him to leave.

Xe didn’t want to leave.

To xyr amusement, he pulled out a coin. He looked at xyr. “Heads, your fight with Neil, tails, the…the other thing.”

Xe nodded, and he flipped the coin, catching it and slapping it to his hand. “Heads,” he announced. 

They looked at each other, bracing for a fight neither of them wanted to have. “Tell me what happened. I won’t say anything until you’ve finished. Just this once.”

Too good an offer to pass up. “Issac was following in his father’s and Jenna's and Drew's footsteps. He decided to fight his limitations directly, and he had the science. He limited the MARTIN sensors and used his nanites to try to repair his audio nerve.” Xe refused to look ashamed. “Jamie and I helped him, and kept his secret. And I am not sorry we did.” That was much easier to say now that xe knew he really was OK. “He has the right to try to better himself.” 

Xe couldn’t read Papa’s reaction, so xe just kept going. “But he had a seizure, Jamie used the failsafe, and we called for help. The EMTs got Issac, and Drew went with them, and as soon as Neil and Jamie and I were alone, he started shouting at her, and then he lunged for her. I intercepted him and tried to make him back off. He wouldn’t. That’s pretty much when you came in.”

Papa might not have interrupted, but now he was shaking his head. “You misinterpreted. You were upset and you misunderstood.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there!” xe challenged. 

“Neil wouldn’t. He adores Jamie. He loves all of you kids.” Yael shook xyr head, glaring daggers at the floor as he continued. “You’ve known him your whole life. You know he would never hurt any of you.”

“I’ve been trying to believe in that, and in him. This whole time I’ve been trying. But he’s not the man I grew up with. That man would never abandon Issac for days at a time like this. Not for any reason. And today-- I’ve seen enough film of your missions to know he can kill with less rage than that. I wouldn’t let anyone looking like that near Jamie or Issac.”

Xe readied for arguments and shouting yet again. Instead, Papa looked distracted and troubled.

Deep down, part of Yael wanted to be wrong. Even hurting Neil unfairly would be better than Neil being a real danger to Jamie. Neil would heal. If he was the person Yael thought xe remembered, he would even forgive.

But Papa had stopped arguing. Xe couldn’t imagine a more hollow victory.

They sat in painful silence for a moment. 

“I…I’ll talk to him. And Melissa,” he promised.

“There’s more.” 

He looked horrified. “More? How could there possibly be more?” Realization dawned. “The phone call.”

“It was Issac.”

“Well then, that’s good!”

Xe nodded, hesitantly. “Yes, that’s good,” xe hedged. “You know it’s his birthday.”

“What a birthday.”

“He’s eighteen. He called me to say he’s not coming back, except to pack his things. He’s moving out. And he sure is Melissa’s son, because he’s somehow landed himself a job since this morning.”

Papa’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

Yael threw up xyr hands. “It wasn’t my idea!”

“Well, tell him not to!”

“When has that ever worked? At least it’s APB-backed, so he won’t get arrested for this morning.”

“He can’t just go out there, alone.”

Here it was. “He won’t be alone.” Yael gulped, but raised xyr chin. “I’m going with him.”

Papa rocketed to his feet.“The hell you are!” All his bombastic energy was back from before. “This is absurd! We had a fight! That is no reason. No. Reason.”

Yael didn’t have it in xyr now to fight about this. Instead, xe kept xyr voice low, which had the surprising effect of making Papa pause. “I know. I’m not going to get away from you. I’m going to protect him. Because he shouldn’t go out there alone.”

“I forbid it.”

“Then be prepared to fight me with real force every single day. Be prepared to break my legs faster than they can heal, because that’s what it’ll take.” 

Papa was visibly repulsed. “This is no time for dramatics.”

“I’m being sincere. I know you don’t have a lot of recent practice with honesty, but try and remember what it sounds like. If you’re not willing to go that far, then you won’t keep me here. And you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to! You’re my--” Xe had to hand it to him; he stopped before ‘daughter’ this time. He was trying. “Family. And you belong here.”

“Do you want to leave Issac unprotected? Out there? He’s your family. He’s hurt. Are you going to abandon him?”

“This is madness.”

“I told you that I’d defend them. From anyone and anything. I meant that.” Not a hero’s oath, but the one that came from xyr heart.

“What about Jamie?” 

“I don’t know yet. But you’ll protect her, won’t you?”

Papa sank down on the futon, hands over his eyes. “There is nothing about this that I don’t hate.”

“But you will.”

He scowled at the ceiling from behind his hand. “Yes, of course I will.”

Silence swallowed them up, and Yael noticed the rain for the first time. Rain was supposed to cleanse. Yael didn’t feel cleansed, but at least some things between them were out. The inside of xyr head felt a little cleaner for it. 

Eventually Yael commented, “I think that was the quietest fight we’ve ever had.”

“I think I lost.”                          

* * *

“Ms. Tillman-Voss? Your brother would like to see you.” The nurse looked at Jamie and Opal, and all the empty chairs in the private waiting room. “Is your mother not here?”

“She went for coffee,” Jamie answered automatically. That had been three hours ago, but it still stood. Jamie had no doubt that wherever Mom was, she’d have a cup of coffee with her. Jamie explaining the morning to Mom hadn’t gone well. Jamie stood, then hesitated, looking back at Opal. “Can you--?”

“I’ll wait here,” Opal assured. It helped. Opal had been sitting with Jamie this whole time, even though Jamie was too full of waiting to be any kind of good company. She’d spent most of the last hour giving Jamie entertaining summaries of Gothic novels with unflattering appraisals of characters’ decision-making abilities. She’d kept it up, even though Jamie didn’t have it in her to laugh at anything right now. They made her almost smile and kept her partially occupied, and that was more than Jamie could have asked for. 

Jamie glanced back over her shoulder as she followed the nurse out, getting one more sympathetic smile and encouraging wave from Opal before following the nurse down the same hall her dad had disappeared down three hours ago. She hadn’t seen or heard from him, since. She told herself it was because a broken bone could take a while to treat.

Issac was sitting up, awake and lucid, when Jamie slipped quietly into the room. The nurse shut the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. His lips weren’t blue. His eyes were focused, if bloodshot. He had on two medical bracelets and a white paper card in each hand. One large, one small. The sensors were still on his forehead. He watched her with trepidation, licking his lips. 

Jamie almost tripped over her shoes crossing the space between them. She wrapped both arms around him and pulled him close enough that she could tell that he was warm, that he wasn’t shaking. She tried to make out a heartbeat, but her own heart was pounding too hard. He put one hand on her back, hesitantly. The hand didn’t shake or jerk. It was steady. 

She took a deep breath, pulling away, and grabbed his pillow from behind him. She cataloged all the sensors on his head, his sternum, and his wrist bracelet. She aimed for his forearm and stomach, and hit him with the paper-wrapped pillow almost as hard as she could. “Never! Again!”

Issac raised his arms, trying to fend off the unexpected attack, but neglecting to grab the pillow. She gripped it, dragging it off the side of the bed, glaring at him with stinging eyes. Even if he didn’t know what she’d said, he should be able to work out why she was mad. 

He was still for a second, hands still raised defensively, not sure whether she’d strike another fluffy vinyl blow. That was fair; she wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to hit him again. She was gratified to see him frantically searching for an appropriate response. 

Tentatively, he reached out a hand, and that was enough invitation. She grabbed him in another tight hug, dropping the pillow back on the bed so she could grab him with both hands and be sure she could feel him breathing. “You jerk. I threw up four times because of you. If you ever try that again, next time I’m just going to let you--” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t even finish the thought. Didn’t want the twitching, blue-lipped vision it conjured up. She realized belatedly there was no way he could hold a tablet, because he was actually hugging her back this time. She was just as happy he hadn’t heard her threat. She sniffed hard, trying not to get snot on his paper pajamas, and squeezed him again. 

He answered anyway. “I promise not to ask you to do something like that again. Sorry.”

She muttered with her head on his shoulder. “You better not. Practically gave me a heart attack.”

“Liar. Your cardio system is like the only thing on you that halfway works right.”

Jamie startled, letting go. “You heard me!” Oh thank G-d, it was over. Whatever came next, it would all have to work out. Issac's gambit had paid off. Mom and Dad would have to forgive them for it eventually, now. She was almost lightheaded with relief. 

“No. I’m wearing the contacts.” 

Shit. She could see it cost him to even say it. But seeing him turn red in the face was good. Red wasn’t blue.

“Oh. Well. I’m glad you can use those now. I can’t even tell the difference!” He couldn’t hear her tone, but she was pretty sure it was still unconvincing. Not because it wasn’t true, but because of everything she knew would come with it. She gripped the paper of his hospital gown. “So…are you OK?”

He didn’t look at her this time, watching his own hand tap the sheets. “Well, I’m not dead. There doesn’t seem to be any more brain damage. Still can’t hear. So, mostly the same, I guess. My back hurts,” he added offhandedly. Jamie’s gut flipped, remembering the unnatural looking way it had bowed off the bed. “But I guess…mostly the same.” 

He turned his hand over. There was a handwritten notecard in it, in an unfamiliar handwriting. You are in the hospital due to a seizure. Some confusion and soreness-- He closed his hand around the card, then looked at the other card, which seemed to be a business card. He didn’t turn that around, so she couldn’t read it. 

“So uhm. I guess my experiment got someone’s attention at the APB--”

Her hand clenched around the paper of his shirt again. She looked down at his wrist. He wasn’t cuffed to the hospital bed or anything. Looked around the room. No sign of any security measures beyond the default. 

Issac was OK, but would he stay OK? Would they ship him off to some hellish prison in Detroit? Issac couldn’t make it in a place like that-- hearing or not. 

Jamie couldn’t protect him from that. From anything. “We’re at the APB,” she interrupted. He paused, then looked around the room, realizing it was true. “MARTIN called them,” Jamie added furiously. Stupid super-intelligent security system didn’t understand the risk it was putting Issac through.

“Oh. MARTIN.” He was quiet so long she had to squish the urge to bend over and check his eyes, to make sure they weren’t rolled back. Then he took an expansive breath. “Anyway, this guy who works with the APB is interested in my research. He offered me a job.” His eyes skittered up to meet hers. “And I took it.”

They stared at each other. He had the good sense to look a little hangdog. Finally, Jamie spoke, trying to sound as even-keel as possible. “I don’t want this to sound mean, but I think they should scan your brain for injuries again.”

Issac looked supremely unimpressed, but pointed at a monitor with a display that meant nothing to her. “Read all you want. I have.” He held up his phone. “I even got some notes from them.” He shifted, sitting straighter and warming to his subject. “Look, this is what I need. Just…some space to figure things out. Some backup so I can work without…” He gestured at the machinery behind him without actually looking at any of it. Jamie's eyes skimmed along them. There were a lot of them. A lot of things the doctors were worried about.

Legal protection. That was worth a lot. Was it more than their family could provide? 

“But you live with Mom,” Jamie attempted to reason. “She owns everything in your lab.”

He frowned. “Well, obviously I’m going to have to move out. That’s fine. I’m old enough.”

Jamie thought of Mom’s torn up cuticles and the cracks in the dark glaze on her nails. This morning, the cracks had been gone, and the plum glaze traded out for a less obvious nude color. Tidied up, but with the expectation of future chips. 

“I was going to move out soon, anyway. What’s a few months’ difference?”  

“Mom’s going to see a difference.” 

“Well, then that’s her problem,” he answered with attempted glibness. Jamie’s heart sank. “Yael wants you to come. With us. Xe’s moving out with me. As a bodyguard kind of thing. I don’t mind. If you want to.”

She made up her mind in an instant. She’d failed Issac once already today. She couldn’t quit now. She nodded, just once, and he seemed both pleased and surprised. 

She’d figure this out one way or another.

[goldenseresinretriever]

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 5

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You glance at the GPS on the screen of your car again as you scan the street ahead of you. It’s situated on a quieter side of town and half the homes have beach access. Not at all where you’d pictured a single star-athlete in his early thirties to be living. It’s not like you expected a seedy bachelor pad riddled with used condoms and syphilis, but this was a neighborhood for the settled. Cookie cutter families walk along the sidewalks pushing strollers and chatting amongst each other. Kids ride their bikes unattended, safe in their suburban utopia. You and the well-loved car that you’ve had since you were sixteen are feeling slightly out of place in this picture-perfect neighborhood as if you’re a hopeless puppy tracking mud on a freshly cleaned kitchen floor.

The GPS chimes, alerting you that you’ve reached your destination. The house on your right looks a lot like the others on the street, a cozy suburban beach house. The driveway is empty so Jake’s truck must be parked in the garage. You pull into the free space, sighing as you scan the home for any clues about its owner. There’s none to be found. Curtains shield the inside of the house from view, and there’s no furniture or decoration on the porch. The only evidence of the house even being lived in is the freshly mowed lawn. You frown hoping that Jake hired someone to do that. The idea of him pushing a mower with his knee in its current state fills you with irritation. The idea of Jake, shirtless and sweaty pushing the mower fills you with more irritation. You shake your head to clear away the image, before getting out of the car, and heading up the short path to the door. You hesitate before knocking, wondering if you should have just stayed in the car and texted him to come out. You decide against it since he has his leg to worry about plus wrangling a dog. Speaking of Pudding, you’re saved the trouble of deciding to knock as a chorus of barking alerts her owner to your presence at the door. You hear a muffled voice amongst the barks as the door swings open to reveal Jake wrestling with the collar of a Tibetan mastiff with a glassy caramel coat who’s doing her best to get away from her owner so she can give you a proper welcome.

“Pud, come on, you need to settle down. Come on girl.” He urges the giant fluffball of joy. You drop to squat in front of her.

“Hey girl, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You reach out a hand for her to sniff only to have her instantly soak it with slobber as she gives it an enthusiastic lick that lets you know that you’ve long since passed the friendship test. You laugh and fish into your purse, pulling out a ziploc bag with a dog treat in it. At the sight of the treat, Pudding begins wagging her tail so hard she almost takes out her owner. You extend it to her and her giant tongue sweeps it up easily, and you watch it disappear into her gaping maw and she looks at you expectantly, her tongue lolling. “Sorry sweet girl, I don’t have anymore.” You say with a chuckle, reaching out to ruffle the fur on her head affectionately. She noses at your hand as if to say that all is forgiven. Finally, you turn to her owner who’s been watching the two of you fondly from where he’s casually leaning on the doorframe. “Hey.” You offer him.

“Hey, Bugs, you sure clean up something pretty.” You can’t help the flush that paints your cheeks at the compliment. You’re not wearing anything fancy by any means but you suppose the t-shirt and dress shorts are a far cry from the scrubs you wear at work.

“Thanks, you too.” He’s wearing a short-sleeve button-down and shorts of his own. The brace on his knee is clearly visible and you like how honesty looks in him.

“I’m glad you like it, I picked this shirt just for you. It really makes my great tits pop, don’t you think?” He puffs out his chest for emphasis and you want to die from mortification.

“Please forget I ever said that.” You plead.

Jake looks at you incredulously. “Of course not, Bugs. I don’t think I’m ever going to forget that.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin. You scowl.

“Come on, Lola, let’s get going or we’re going to be late.” He laughs behind you as you turn to start heading to the car.

“Hey!” You don’t turn. “Bugs, where are you going?” You turn to see him still standing in the doorway, a confused look on his face.”

“To my car? Since I’m driving us?”

“Bunny you can’t possibly think we’re all gonna fit in there with my leg and Pudding.”

You glance from the pair in the house to your car and frown as you realize he’s right. Jake and Pudding join you and Jake nods at your car. “Pull out and I’ll open the garage and you can park in there. We’ll take the truck.” You look at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Jake, I can’t drive your truck!” He arches an eyebrow.

“And why not?”

“Are you kidding? It’s HUGE!” He chuckles, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“I’m sure you can handle it, sweetheart.” You feel your face flush at the innuendo.

“But you told me to remind you…” You try once more even as you feel your resolve slipping and start accepting the reality that you’re going to have to drive Jake’s behemoth of a truck.

He arches an eyebrow. “Remind me of what, Bunny?”

“You told me to remind you to never let me drive your truck.” You grumble as you unlock your car, getting ready to move it into the garage. He laughs at that and you try not to preen at the sound.

“That’s my Bunny, always so responsible.” He teases, patting your head gently. “Well now you’ve reminded me but my mind’s still made up, so hop to it, Bunny, and I’ll grab my keys. He ambles back into the house as you pull back out of the driveway, idling as the garage opens and you pull into the free space next to the truck.

Jake’s waiting for you, and he extends his hand to you, holding his keys. You hide your smile at the faded hockey stick keychain as you take them from him. Then you turn to face the beast, swallowing hard. Jake places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to the driver’s side. He pulls open the door for you and you gape at the distance from the ground to the driver’s seat. You’re about to make a fool of yourself but at least you aren’t wearing a dress. Before you can even attempt the climb, though, Jake puts his hands on your hips and lifts you into the driver’s seat effortlessly. “Oh.” It’s all you can manage as his hands disappear as quickly as they appeared. He helps you adjust your seat and the mirrors and while you still feel overwhelmed by the size of the truck compared to your little car, you start to feel slightly at ease, but that could be the warm smell of leather and the cologne you’ve come to recognize as Jake’s. Jake makes his way around the truck, opening the back door so Pudding can jump in, before getting in himself. You’ve started the car and are familiarizing yourself with the controls. You take a deep breath, sitting back for a second, your hand resting on the gear shift, ready to move it into reverse. Jake’s hand covers yours, squeezing gently.

“You’ve got this, Bunny. I trust you.” It’s those words that give you the courage to shift into reverse and back out of Jake’s driveway as he leans over to hit the garage door control above your head.

***

Thirty minutes later you’re making your way through another suburban neighborhood on the other side of town. While Jake’s neighborhood looked unassumingly middle class, however, this one is clearly home to families in a significantly higher tax bracket. It makes sense, given the fact that Maverick is a multimillionaire but it’s not like he rolls up to work in a limousine every day. Instead, he drives a beat-up Kawasaki and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen the man wear a tie.

“Are Mav and Penny married?” Jake asks, his knees bouncing into the bottle of wine he has clutched in his left hand. You’d made a pit stop on your way, a tasteful and way too expensive flower bouquet in his other hand.

“No idea.” You say as you continue shamelessly ogling the real estate. “I don’t think I’ve seen a wedding ring, but I’ve never really looked.”

“Google doesn’t say he is.” You peek over to see the bouquet abandoned in Jake’s lap as he types into his phone, brows tight in concentration. “Have you met Penny?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s still looking at this phone. “No, I had planned to meet with her after the physicals were over to draw up individual nutrition plans for each of you. I haven’t run into her at the arena so the opportunity just hasn’t presented itself yet.” Jake nods absently, still scrolling.

“I didn’t even know we had a nutritionist.” He mutters.

“Holy shit.” He finally looks up as you murmur the words. The house ahead of you is gorgeous. It sits on top of a hill, nestled into a private culdesac. A massive yard wraps around the circular street, dotted with trees. A wide driveway leads up to what has to be a four-car garage. The house itself is a sprawling modern Victorian style complete with a circular pointed tower. It’s a house that looks both like it’s been transplanted from the northeast and right at home in Southern California. You’re both awestruck as you pull the car up the driveway and shift into park. You suddenly feel extremely underdressed as you take the bouquet from Jake’s lap and follow him up the pristinely paved walkway. As you climb up to the excessively large porch, you feel yourself relax. Up close the house is well-loved, with chipping paint and mud streaks far too old to scrub out. You smile softly at the thought of all the memories it must hold as Jake rings the doorbell.

A beautiful brunette woman answers the door, a big smile wide on her face. “Hey there! You must be Bugs and Jake. I’m Penny, it’s so nice to meet you both!” You go to shake her hand but she opts for a hug instead and she smells warm and homey in a way you can’t place. She leads the two of you through the house, taking the wine and flowers from each of you. The kitchen is a myriad of bright dishes and rich smells and you catch sight of Mav manning a grill through gorgeous wide windows overlooking a sprawling deck.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You ask as you watch Jake beeline for the back door to offer the same assistance to Maverick. Penny waves you off.

“No no, I’m pretty much done here, just getting things to the table. It’s so good to finally get to meet you, Bugs. I’ve been busy helping Ice with the administrative side of things so I haven’t been at the arena since you started. I look forward to working together.” She flashes you a motherly smile and you’re reminded of home.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out and introduce myself since I was hoping we could collaborate on getting the boys set up with individual nutrition plans but I figured it would be better to get their initial physicals out of the way so we had the most up to date information to work with. As a physician, I’m strongly against restrictive diets, especially for athletes, but so I think a more general nutrition plan would be a better approach.” Penny nods.

“Pete mentioned you’re extremely dedicated to your patients.” She gives you a conspiratorial smile as she directs her gaze out the window to where Jake and Mav are and you feel yourself flush even as your heart aches as your eyes latch on the knee brace.

“My first priority as a physician is always my patients and making sure they get the best possible care. The fact that there are physicians out there who put their own selfishness ahead of their patients kills me. Jake’s been hurt in a way that the Hippocratic oath should never have allowed.” You shake your head, your hands clenching on the chair you’re holding onto. “He put his trust in the people hired to prioritize his care and they betrayed him. I refuse to let that happen again.” Penny sets a gentle hand on your clenched one.

“He’s in good hands now.” You try to believe her, but the events from Cyclone’s office yesterday make that hard. A wet nose nudges against your hand and Pudding gazes up at you with worry in her eyes and you stroke her head softly. You’re saved from responding by Jake and Mav coming into the kitchen, arms laden with plates of meat. You dash to help them, taking a plate from Jake and giving him your best scolding look.

“SIT.” You pull out a chair, setting your hands on your hips. A thump across the room draws both your attention as Pudding sits. You snort a laugh before going back to glaring at Jake who’s still standing. “Pudding has been kind enough to prepare a visual aid, now if you don’t mind.” Jake rolls his eyes but sits all the same. “No unnecessary strain until we have a treatment plan in place, mister.” You give him a sympathetic look. You know how hard it is for athletes to give up control, this isn’t your first rodeo. “You’ll be back up and running in no time.” You say gently. “Baby steps, right?” He nods and you notice a softness in his eyes that you try not to think about any longer than you have to. You head back out with Mav to grab the last of the plates, while Jake chats with Penny as she brings dishes from the kitchen to the table.

As you’re all getting settled and starting to eat, Jake pipes up. “So how long have you two been married?” You fight the urge to snack him with the rib you’re holding. After the conversation in the car, you thought it had been evident that Penny and Mav are NOT married.

Maverick chokes on his wine and Penny laughs. “Oh, we’re not married.” Jake looks genuinely confused and you wonder if he’s maybe missing a screw.

“But all the family pictures in the hallway…” He trails off sheepishly. You’d barely been in the hallway for a minute or two, how did he notice family pictures, and get enough time to stare at them to conclude that Mav and Penny were married?

“Oh, that’s my daughter, Amelia, she’s from my first marriage,” Penny says with a chuckle. “We divorced a long while ago, before Pete and I got together.”

“And you two never got married?” Jake pushes and you wonder why he’s so curious.

“Well, that’s because, technically speaking, I’m still married.” Mav joins the conversation and Jake’s jaw drops so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t hit the table.

“You’re MARRIED?”

Maverick chuckles at Jake’s reaction. “Yup, a long time ago and we separated on good terms, but never finalized the divorce. There was never a reason to, so yeah I guess I’m still married.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“Who is she?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Sorry, that was so intrusive you don’t have to answer that.”

Mav waves you off. “You probably know of her, actually. She’s an NHL coach too.” The pieces fall into place all too quickly and you find yourself blurting out.

“Dare Mitchell is your WIFE?” It’s not rocket science. There are hardly any female coaches in the NHL, and there’s only one with the last name, Mitchell.

It’s Jake’s turn to choke on his wine. “Dare Mitchell? You’re married to THE Dare Mitchell?” His eyes are wide.

Maverick chuckles.“The one and only.”

“Holy SHIT.” Jake sits back in his chair, shocked into silence. You don’t blame him. Dare Mitchell is the best of the best. She’s been coaching for the Pittsburgh Penguins for the last 30-some years and is responsible for leading them to nothing short of five Stanley Cup wins. Her nickname, Dare, stands for Definitive Authority on Rink Education, or Referee Ejection depending on who you ask. She’s a force to be reckoned with and one of your personal heroes. Sure you were a Stars fan but every self-respecting hockey feminist worshiped the ground she walked on. She’d been the first female NHL coach when she started as an assistant coach for the Philadelphia Flyers and she’d not only broken the glass ceiling but now even the most misogynistic cynic puts respect on her name.

It shouldn’t have been such a shock that she was married to Pete Mitchell. Their careers had overlapped during his brief time with the Flyers before transferring to Anaheim but most people tended to forget that part of Maverick’s career. With the exception of the event that led to his move to Anaheim in the first place. If anything had ever been public about his relationship with or marriage to his coach, that had probably been buried by the tragedy that occurred shortly after. And now they were separated apparently. You wonder when that happened. Dare Mitchell was infamous for the lack of information on her personal life. Plenty of men had jumped to labeling her as undesirable and “impossible to deal with” due to her lack of a partner and seemingly single status. When asked about it in interviews, while she typically ignored such blatantly sexist questions, she occasionally responded along the lines of placing her career first, but now you know otherwise.

“I can’t believe Dare Mitchell is your WIFE.” Jake has come back to the conversation. Mav looks mildly uncomfortable at all the attention and you feel the need to change the subject for his sake.

“So, Maverick you mentioned wanting to talk about our game plan going forward?”

“Right, yes.” He claps his hands, sitting forward and you all return to your food. “Bugs, first I want your personal assessment of Jake’s condition. I know you mentioned some of that in Cyclone’s office earlier, but I think we should go over it with Jake present.” You nod in agreement, wiping your mouth and taking a sip of wine to clear your throat.

“Jake, we talked about this briefly this morning but you need to stay off your leg as much as possible at least until we’ve gotten all the necessary scans and tests done. I’m in the process of contacting some colleagues to get those scheduled as soon as I can.” You had a sneaking suspicion of how well that was going to go but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it now, there was a bigger issue at hand. You hesitate, wondering if now is the best time to bring this up. “I wanted to ask whether you’d be comfortable with me reaching out to your former physician on the Stars to get your initial test results. I just want to see them so we can compare them and get a better picture of your situation and how it's progressed. I don’t expect them to be particularly compliant, but I’m planning to ask Zam for guidance on getting the files without having to get lawyers involved. That’s only if you’re comfortable with me doing that.” You swallow. You know Jake’s had a long day and you can’t imagine how tired he must be, you know how exhausted you feel.

He nods slowly. “Do whatever you need to do, Bugs. Like I said, I’m in your hands now. If you think it’s necessary, do it.” You give him a small smile as your heart squeezes at the faith he’s putting in you.

“Are you actually planning to sue your former physician and coach?” Mav interrupts.

“WHAT?” This is news to you.

Mav puts his hands up in surrender. “He mentioned it in Cyclone’s office when he threatened to sue you for negligence.” Jake makes a low noise that sounds like a growl at the reminder of the events earlier in the day and you flush slightly at the memory.

“Honestly, I think I kind of checked out during all that…” you say, averting your eyes to your hands where they're fiddling with a rib bone on your plate. Jake’s hand comes into view as he takes one of yours and gives it a gentle squeeze and your eyes almost pop out of your head as your brain short circuits. You’re frozen, mortified at his audacity to do that in front of two of your colleagues let alone HIS COACH. You pull your hand from his grip, in what you hope is at least a slightly dignified way, depositing both hands in your lap, clasping them tightly.

“I don’t know.” He admits. “I think it’s definitely something to consider. It depends on how much of a case I have. We’ll probably have to get that comparison between my records to know for sure. Legal stuff isn’t really my strong suit.” He shrugs.

“You should talk to Zam about it, she’ll be the best person to ask,” Mav suggests, a fond smile crossing his face at the mention of the team’s PR rep. Jake nods in agreement. “Bugs you were saying?”

“Oh right, well that means no practice for Jake. You can do upper body work but no leg stuff period. I also think we could talk to Cyclone about hiring you a driver for the foreseeable future-“

“Or you could just drive me.” Jake interrupts nonchalantly.

“What?”

He shrugs. “You drove me here tonight, why not? I don’t want you having to deal with Cyclone any more than you have to, and suggesting hiring another employee will probably piss him off.”

“What doesn’t?” Maverick mutters under his breath. “It’s not such a bad idea, though. You’ll both be working together almost exclusively since Jake can’t practice so this way you’ll always get in at the same time.” You consider throwing the rib bone at Maverick.

“See, Bugs, we’ve got Coach’s blessing, what do you say? I’ll throw in breakfast on me.” He waggles his eyebrows like he’s just made an irrefutable offer. You sigh, realizing this isn’t really up for debate anymore, and Mav has a point.

“As long as you’re ready on time. Three strikes and you’re out.” You give him a pointed look. Jake breaks into a huge grin, offering you a mock salute.

“Aye aye, cap’n.” You roll your eyes.

***

The sun has long since disappeared from the sky as you, Jake, and Pudding make your way back to the truck. You’re walking slightly behind him so you can observe his movement as he awkwardly shuffle-hops with the brace keeping his knee stiff. You have a good feeling about his scans. For an untreated grade three tear, he doesn’t seem to have too much of a problem getting around. Today was an overall success but it’s created a brand new problem. Jake may trust you now but now he’s crossing professionalism lines left and right and you can’t help the way your anxiety threatens to choke you at the idea of Cyclone getting the wrong idea. Not to mention the fact that your body seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to him. You’ve been out of the game for too long. So much so that your body reacts naturally to his touch. You’d thought you’d have no problem avoiding his advances given the precarious nature of your situation but here you were being betrayed by your own body and mind. And now he had talked you into spending even more one-on-one time together OUTSIDE of work. You needed to lay down some ground rules.

You approach the truck where Jake’s patiently waiting by the driver’s side door, holding it open for you. Your cheeks flush as he scoops you up and deposits you in the seat without a moment’s hesitation before handing you the keys and hobbling around the other side of the truck and letting Pudding into the back while you start the engine. You swallow hard, drumming your fingers on the wheel nervously as you back out of the driveway. The two of you wave to Maverick and Penny on the porch as you drive away. Not even five minutes pass when Jake breaks the silence.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?” You don’t take your eyes off the road, your fingers drumming harder.

“You’re nervous.” You finally turn to glance at him and he gives a pointed glance in the direction of your drumming fingers. You stop the motion immediately, hesitating before you say.

“We need to talk.” He nods, encouraging you to continue. “I appreciate you trusting me, Jake, I really do, but if we’re going to be spending this much time together especially with me driving you now, I need to set some ground rules.”

“What kind of rules, Bugs?” His expression is guarded when you glance at him. You sigh.

“Jake I realize things are going to be complicated because we’re simultaneously coworkers and you’re also my patient, but like I’ve told you, my first duty is always to my patients. That being said, I need you to understand that you’re my patient first and my coworker second. That relationship takes precedence for me, at least while you’re injured.”

“And what about our friendship?”

“What?” You’re caught off guard by his question.

“Where does our friendship fall into your list of priorities? I’m your coworker, I’m your patient, and I was starting to think I was your friend too.” He pauses. “Or was that an incorrect assumption?” Your heart skips and your breath catches.

“No, uh, I mean yes Jake I would say we’re friends… or at least on our way there.” You trip over your words as you struggle to focus on the road and Jake’s brazen words. “I want to be your friend.” The words escape against your better judgment and you see the faint smile that ghosts Jake’s lips. “But that’s going to have to be strictly outside of work. Look, I’m pretty sure Cyclone thinks we’re dating or halfway there because he’s kind of a paranoid control freak in case you haven’t noticed.” You give a nervous laugh. He doesn’t know the half of it. “And if he's convinced? That breaks my oath as a doctor, Jake. I won’t just lose my job, I could lose my license.” You swallow hard. “So if you could just…” you trail off, not knowing how to phrase it.

“Keep my distance.” He finishes.

“More like just keep things professional.” He chuckles at that.

“Bugs, all my previous physicians were old men. That’s never been a problem before.”

“Then pretend I’m an old man.” He barks a surprised laugh.

“Bugs.”

“Lola.” You turn to look at him as he grins and winks.

“You’re one smoking hot old man.” Your face flushes beet red and you whip your head back to the road, unable to look at him.

“Relax, Bunny, you did say you thought I had great tits this morning so I figured I’d even up the score before we go full professional mode.” You can hear his grin. You roll your eyes, your face still blazing.

You’re quiet for a while before you interrupt the silence “Thank you, Jake.” He waits so long to answer you start to wonder if he heard you.

“For what, Bunny?”

“For all of it.” You pause. “Especially for respecting my boundaries.”

“You heard me earlier. We’re a team. If you go, I go, so I can’t let you leave that easily, Bunny.” He pauses. “After all, I’m a fighter.” You smile at that.

“Yeah? Me too.” You give him a shy look and he returns it with one of pure warmth and the silence is comfortable as you drive him home.

[drgreysonmd]

{She's instantly taken back to her first appointment, the way he almost seemed to get on her level. So gentle, kind, with a little bit of humor, and that smile that burned itself into her brain the first time she saw him without his medical mask. For someone who had a name of grey, he brought color into her world and she hadn't stopped seeing rainbows since.} He's so friendly, I've never seen a squirrel this close.

{She took the almond and held her hand out, timidly, but trying to be brave. After the squirrel takes it she beams at him, proud of herself for not jerking back. Then it occurs to her the time, and she can't help but glance at her little silver watch.} Clopi is lucky, he gets to be spoiled by you. {She smiles.} I should...get back to the office. Um, Doctor... {She adjusts her skirt but doesn't want to take her eyes off his breathtaking gaze} Maybe... Um. {Her heart is in her ears and she can't bear it so she looks into her lap, she backs down, not able to really say what she wants to.}

Don't forget to send me those things. I'll share the recipe from today in exchange. Thanks for indulging me in this, um...check up. {She smiles a little again as she stands}. My prognosis is that since you've taken appropriate steps, you won't develop stuck-in-office syndrome. Keep getting lots of sunshine and... I recommend daily doses of smiling. At least twice a day. ~🏞️

(Aaahhh Alice suits her 🥹 what a good pick Nonnie I love it)

So many moments in his life could be called rewarding- he was a physician after all. Pre-med, Skyhaven, post-grad, residency, his job here at Akso even more so. Yet somehow watching her reach out to feed the fat little squirrel was an experience so entirely different that it was hard to contain himself.

Maybe it was the way that the tension that was always pulling at the edges of her seemed to be softening, leaving her more focused on a moment than her surroundings. Or perhaps it was the determination he could see settling between her brows, as if she'd made up her mind to do some bold and difficult thing. Though to her credit, Greyson thought, she definitely had.

And when she turned to smile at him, practically aglow with delight, he thought bravery looked absolutely stunning on her.

I don't know that I'd call being overfed by hospital staff lucky persay, but he is definitely spoiled. He laughs, hands on his knees as he pushes himself up to his full height again. The sight of her glancing at her watch has him checking his as well in reflex, and it's just as well. He's got 5 minutes left. That's fine, he'll enjoy them.

Of course, I've got another surgical briefing to prepare for this afternoon as well, and I definitely don't want to cause you any more work problems than you already seem to have. It was supposed to be a light-hearted comment, but her earlier remarks of work still ate at the back of his mind like tiny little inch worms. The comment that died in her throat didn't help either, but he decided it was best not to push. He'd already done enough damage for the day.

Oh, absolutely! Next time you visit, I'll be looking forward to hearing how your cake turned out. Or a photo, whichever comes first. As she stands, he takes a step back to allow her the room to step back onto the walking path beside him, enjoying his last few minutes with her, basking in her smile.

It's the diagnostics that come next that completely catch him off guard, pulling a confused but deeply amused laugh from him. 'Stuck-in-office syndrome'? Adorable, truly. Though he's not sure he's going to be able to stick to those smiling orders for a few days after this without his jaw falling off, but he's definitely not going to admit that to her.

Well, if I have to stick to these orders, Doctor Alice, then I think what's good for the gander is good for the goose, yes?

[loriane-elmuerto]

Lying in bed, thinking about how shitty Caroline's life actually became and how much she sacrificed for others

[sande5098]

Old Friends?

Fandom: Chicago Med

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x female reader

Summary: Y/n starts at Gaffney and meets up with an old friend that she hadn’t expected to see again.

Warnings: Talk of past Ed, talk of death, cancer

Word count: 3.6k

Y/n was excited to start her first day at Gaffney. An attending physician place had shown up and y/n had been wanting a fresh start for quite a while now. One that didn't involve all of the hate that she'd gotten from your old hospital but still in a busy city. So it was a win-win.

She grabbed her bag from the passenger side seat as well as her new white coat and headed through the doors of the general hospital, she was supposed to meet the Director of Patient and Medical services, Mrs Goodwin and Dr Abrams, who was head of neurosurgery, the department in which she would be continuing her residency in. While she was an attending in neurosurgery, she would have to work her way up another 'food chain' as she liked to refer the leaderboard too.                    

She entered through the doors of the entrance to the general hospital where there were two people waiting, one who she knew was Dr Abrams, who she had already met with for the interview and the other, who she could only assume was Mrs Goodwin. The woman looked friendly with a warm smile across her face, and held out her hand to formally welcome Y/n, "Dr Y/LN I'm Sharon Goodwin, Director of Patient and Medical Services. We are very glad to have you here at med. Dr Abrams has made me aware of your outstanding credentials." the woman shook her hand and Y/n nodded her head, feeling a tiny bit awkward; she didn't like to boast.

"Hello Mrs Goodwin, it's lovely to meet you and I can't wait to start today," Y/n said with a smile, and then shook Dr Abrams hand, whose face held a tight, small smile. "Well then, I'll leave you to get settled then. I'm sure Both of you have plenty of work to do." With that, Mrs Goodwin left for the stairs up to what Y/n could only believe was where her office is.

————

Y/n had to admit that after being a week into the new job, she loved it. Everyone seemed friendly enough, with a bit of healthy competition. So far she had to step in only on a couple of surgeries that a couple of the residents and fellows had messed up, which usually ended up with giving them a strict telling off after she had fixed whatever problem that they had created.

Today, however, she was the attending on call since Dr Abrams had to go away to a conference, this afternoon. so you were simply filling in for him. Y/n's pager went off and she had fully expected it to be one of the residents that had screwed again. But no, she was required down at the ED for a consult.

She sighed as she logged herself off the computer she was busy on, telling the charge nurse of neurology, Elise where she would be. She stepped into the lift and pressed the down button all the way to the first floor. Y/n didn't know what to think of the place as she stepped out, it was definitely one busy hell of a place with doctors and ED nurses running everywhere. She would call it organised chaos. As she looked up from her tablet she went to talk to Maggie, the charge nurse down here. "Hi. I was called for a consult." Y/n interrupted the woman politely causing her to turn round and look. "Oh, you must be the new attending up the neuro. It's nice to meet you, my name is Maggie." Y/n smiled at the woman's cheeriness "likewise, my name's Y/n." Maggie smiled, "yes you were called for a consult in treatment 4. I'll send you the patient's file now."  "Thanks, Maggie." She watched her iPad for results before heading off to treatment 4.

As she was about to go in she heard someone come up behind her. "I thought I paged for Dr Abrams." Y/n turned around, "yes, well, you got the attending. Dr Abrams is away right now," she replied smoothly, not looking up from her tablet. "Shall we." She looked up, only to be met with a face she knew she could never forget. "Crockett? If that is you I hate your hair, it's not fluffy anymore." Y/n watched as the man's cheeks tainted pink, Y/n smiled at that. "Well, Darlin' I didn't think I would be seeing you after we left med school." Y/n rolled her eyes, "I have a name, Marcel, start using it."

Crockett just smiled and followed Y/n into treatment 4 where the patient was.  The man was in his early thirties and asleep, as Y/n reviewed his chart and most recent Brain MRI she concluded that he had too much fluid building up in his brain. "Mrs Chambers. I'm Doctor     Y/LN, and I was reviewing your husband's MRI, from the results of said MRI, I need to drill a hole in your husband's head to relieve the pressure on the brain." The woman seemed too stunned to speak, "what would happen if we didn't do the surgery?" Y/n looked at the man who was lying in the hospital bed, before turning back to his wife. "Then Mrs Chambers, I'm afraid that your husband will die. From intracranial pressure caused by the fluid." The woman burst into tears, "with your permission I would like to go ahead with the surgery right now."

The woman let out a whispered 'yes' and Y/n nodded, and started to call in for some nurses to help her move the man to the operating room.

Crockett nodded to Y/n and she nodded back, now she had to get ready for surgery. It was a simple procedure and it should only take two hours if that.

————

Once Mr Chambers was out of surgery, which went off without a hitch by the way. She went to the waiting room where she knew Mrs Chambers would be, she walked out to see the woman who was anxiously waiting and whenever Mrs Chambers saw her, she rushed over and Y/n smiled at the woman while she delivered the news that her husband was in recovery. Y/n had a nurse bring her round to her husband with the promise that she would be back later to check on him.

Now, all Y/n had to do was go back down to the ED to inform Crockett that his patient had made it through surgery and was now in recovery.

She walked down to the ED, leaving the neurology floor behind, semi trusting the residents not to screw up, and if they needed to they could page a fellow. She was busy, and if needed another attending could see to it.

"Dr Marcel," Y/n called from behind him, her friend turned and walked closer to her, "I have my lunch break now, do you want to join?" She watched his lips turn up into a smile. "Sure would like that Darlin', in fact, I might take my lunch early." He turned to Maggie, "I'm going to take my lunch early, promise I'll be back as soon as I'm finished." Maggie nodded and made sure to sign him out on the tablet.

"Well then, Darlin, what do you say we go get something to eat, I know the cafeteria makes a pretty mean toastie." Y/n laughed, "of course you do. Lead the way."

————

They ended up sitting at a table quite close to the window furthest away from the rest of the crowds. Crockett had made it his mission to find some sort of toastie that she liked, starting with ham and cheese; she notes that it was his favourite. Crockett came back over with two plates, one for her and the other for himself. "Voilà."

Y/n couldn't help but giggle at Crockett's antics, he hadn't changed a bit. She took a bit of her toastie and was actually surprised at how good it tasted. She wasn't the type of person for trying new foods, including toasted sandwiches.

"This is actually quite good, please remind me why I don't try new things this often." The conversation fell silent, both of you knew why. Y/n had struggled with an Eating disorder, and it took years to get her out of it. Crockett had been there for her the entire way, helping her get better, he'd been her best friend, someone that she could always rely on until she lost her phone and number, which she lost Crockett's.

"Look Y/n, I didn't mean to pressure you-" "Crockett, don't start. What happened was in the past and I'm over it. I just sometimes like to stick to my 'safe foods'." Y/n smiled at Crockett and went back to eating her toastie. "So you finished your residency and fellowship? I'm impressed."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the man, "of course I did, did you really think I would give up? Not a chance." "Of course, not Y/n, I wouldn't doubt your skills." "Sure." She answered back dryly.

"How's your wife, last time I heard from you, yous were expecting a baby girl." The table suddenly got very quiet, and Y/n knew she had said something wrong judging by the quick change of demeanour in her friend. "We aren't together anymore. And umm... we lost Harper to leukaemia just after her first birthday." Y/n was too stunned to speak, "Crockett, I'm so so sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." "No Y/n it's okay, you didn't know." The table fell back into a thick silence, the somewhat light-hearted mood ruined. Y/n couldn't help but feel guilty about the situation.

They finished their toasties in silence and Y/n apologised, again saying that she was there if he needed to talk before handing him her number and paying him back for the food, before hurrying off back to the neurology floor, to check in a could of patients.

————

Later that night she received a text message, it was from Crockett.

Crockett Marcel: Hey, it's Crockett. I hope you don't mind me texting you, sorry it's so late.

Y/n Smiled to herself before typing a reply back.

Y/n: Hey Crocs. Didn't think you'd text me tonight and no worries I was just finishing off some dishes.

CM: I'm just gonna keep calling you Darlin' cus of that.

Y/n could feel her face heat up as she typed out another reply, thankful that he couldn't see her coloured cheeks through the phone screen.

Y/n: of course, you will. But then I'll just have to keep calling you Crocs at work as well. I think that's a win-win situation. What do you think?

She giggled slightly at her own reply and watched as he typed back.

CM: Okay then Darlin', but I do have to go off to bed. I've got to get that beauty sleep.

Y/n sent an eye-rolling emoji in reply as well as a good night before switching off her phone. She should probably take Crockett's own advice and go to bed too. It was late and she had an early start tomorrow.

————

Y/n and Crockett got friendlier, with any neurology consult that he needed, he paged her. She was always down as soon as she could be. Crockett knew that he was just doing this as an excuse to spend more time with his friend. He also knew he was being way too open about it, since that's all the nurses and doctors in the ED seemed to talk about. But with it being a Friday night, and he didn't have a shift the next day, he had invited her out to Molly's for a couple of drinks. Just as friends he told himself, constantly. He might have been a bit aware that he was catching feelings but who wouldn't. You just looked so damn hot in your scrubs and white coat.

"Hey Crockett, what's up with you?" Y/n said as she walked beside him. He cast a look over to you, "me? Why would you ask that Darlin?" Y/n rolled her eyes, "do you want a list?" She raised her eyebrows and Crockett just sighed, he didn't need to be reminded of his anxious ticks. "It's nothing, I swear." Y/n rolled her eyes, "fine, don't tell me then. She playfully huffed as they walked towards treatment 2 where Crockett had a patient that was in need of a consult.

"Alright then Mr James, I'm Dr Y/LN and I'm the neurosurgeon looking into your case. Care to tell me what's been bothering you?" She said as both she and Dr Marcel followed her in. That's whenever she was met face to face with a man spewing insults at her. "Who do you think you are bringing in a girl to look at my head. Do you want me to die?!! You better get me someone who knows what they're doing!" Y/n blinked, "well Mr James, I'm the only neurosurgeon on call right now, and to be honest I would much rather your chances with me than with one of the residents." She knew she could very well get a fellow to come down but it wasn't worth wasting their time either, since the only fellow currently in was a female. But you didn't want to put her through this right now.

"Get me your superior, now!" Y/n watched as Crockett stepped forward. "Mr James, believe me when I tell you she is one of the best people in this hospital to take on your case, in fact, she's one of the best neurosurgeons in the county." He said putting a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you needlessly.

Y/n watched as he tried to say something and then started shaking violently. "He's seizing. Need some help in here!" Y/n called out as she rushed to remove the pillow from under his head and fur the bed flat. "Push 2 of Ativan."

"Ativan in." One of the nurses called back, she looked at Crockett. If she was going to do this surgery she needed to do it now. He stopped shaking and slowly woke up, wondering what happened. "Mr James I need to do the surgery now, or you will die. Do I have your consent?" The patient shook in disagreement. "I'll leave you to it then." Y/n turned her back and stripped her gloves, shoving them into the bin. She was angry, he wouldn't let her do the surgery because she was a woman.

"Sexist retard." You hear a voice whisper in your ear. "I'm going to page one of the residents. If they screw up his surgery, It's not my problem." Y/n was about to walk away when Crockett grabbed her arm, "drinks at Molly's at 10. Me and you?" Y/n felt a small smile fresh onto her face, "you're paying." She whispered back, "of course Darlin', do you really believe a gentleman such as myself would expect anything less?" Y/n chuckled at Crockett's cheeky response, "I'll see you there then." It was only at that moment that Y/n became hyperaware he was still leaning over her ear and she turned to face him, "so I'll be seeing you later then." Crockett smiled at her, "of course Darlin'."

————

They both found their separate ways to Molly's, Y/n came straight from her shift and just changed into a casual dress that she kept in her locker and was at Molly's just before Crockett showed, she said hello to a couple of people she knew, and sat down at a secluded corner table. Crockett appeared only a couple of moments later, sitting himself down opposite her.

They ordered drinks since none of them had any shifts tomorrow, and if they really needed to they could just get taxis home if they drank a little too much. Though Crockett was definitely not going to get pished out of his mind, besides, he wanted to make sure Y/n did nothing she would regret; though if she was still the exact same from uni, he knew she should be able to hold her drink. Maybe 4 or 5 drinks in Y/n felt bussing, she knew that it would probably be best if she went home now, though she didn't want to cut their fun short so decided on another shot of cherry vodka, which didn't take long to finish. "I think that's gonna be me for the night." Y/n chuckled, feeling slightly tipsy. "Well, I'm sober enough to drive, do you want a ride home instead of getting one of those Ubers or taxis?" Y/n smiled at her friend, "sure Crocs."

Y/n stood up and as they walked to Crockett's car, she practically fell asleep on his shoulder, while walking. Crockett looked down fondly at her as he helped her into his car. Funnily enough he'd forgot to ask where exactly her apartment was... fuck. Oh well, he could just drive them back to his.

Crockett sighed as he left his bedroom, he'd left Y/n sleeping in his bed while he went to the sofa. He already kept a quilt and multiple pillows there, in case something like this happens, where someone who he brings home has had a bit too much to drink and he refuses to sleep with them.

Crockett made himself comfortable as he settled himself on the sofa, he was awfully tired too and fell asleep with his mind on the beautiful woman asleep in his bed.

————

When Y/n woke up, she was confused. She didn't recognise where she was, nor who she might be with. Y/n saw that she was still in her dress from yesterday which brought back her memory somewhat, that and a killer headache. She'd almost forgotten what a hangover could do to someone. Almost.

This wasn’t even a bad one, she just rolled her eyes at her own dramatics and pushed herself out of this strangers bed, she wasn’t sore, so she hadn’t managed to talk anyone into having sex with her and she was still in her clothes from last night.

She had went out to drink at Molly’s with… god, she couldn’t remember, wait, Crockett? She smiled, this must’ve been his place. It’s quite nice, if she did say so herself. She didn’t have a shift today so she could relax, besides she had had a very tiring week and this was her only day off, she was going to spend it wisely.

She walked to the door of the bedroom and opened it quietly, she was able to see the clock from the doorway, it was only 8:37 in the morning. Crockett didn’t have a shift either if she remembered the right schedule, but we’re was he? Maybe the living room?

Y/n struggled to find her way through her friends confusing apartment, it was so weirdly layed out, and just didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Y/n found her way to the living room where she found Crockett lying on the sofa, sleeping relatively peacefully. Y/n sighed at the sight, then realised that she was staring. God, she felt like a creep. With that thought she made her way to the kitchen and started searching though the cupboards to find some sort of food that she could prepare, it was probably the least she could do to say thank you.

Crockett had also slept on the sofa, you had known from experience that he was like this, but it had never happened to you. He was respectful, and you liked that about him. It was something that you didn’t often see with your past boyfriends and if you were being honest, it made you like him even more.

Y/n found something she could make, scrambled eggs and bacon, she knew that Crockett had loved that sort of stuff in med school, but she didn’t know if that had changed or not. But by the fact that he still had both eggs and bacon within the used by date, he did.

Y/n jumped as she felt hands touch her waist, “good morning’ Darlin’. What’re you making?” Y/n chucked and breathed a sigh of relieve, “you scared me. But I’m making eggs and bacon, figured you’d still like it from med school.” “You bet I do.” Crockett whispered, she could feel his breath against her ear, giving her the involuntary shiver, which she was sure Crockett had felt.

His grip lightened but his hands still hovered above the red fabric of her dress. “Crockett, I’ve got to concentrate on breakfast,” she whispered, “come on Darlin’ you know that I’ve been waiting from this since med school, I think you can at least give me a kiss before I leave you alone.” He suggested smirking into her neck. Y/n could feel her face heat up, “fine.” She turned her head and gave him a peck on the cheek. Crockett raised one eyebrow at the peck as he watched Y/n’s face glow pink. “I suppose I’ll set the table then.” He gave her a peck on the cheek back, causing a fierce pink glow to take over her face.

Crockett smirked to himself as he watched her find a glass and pour herself a glass of water from the fridge. He guessed he just had that sort of effect on people.

[strange-dreams-are-made-of-these]

Dancing Beneath The Stars

Pairing: Strange Supreme (838) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4, 011

Summary: At a staff party some feelings get admitted over drinks and a bucket of ice.

Warnings: Some swearing, a tiny bit of angst/a fight, fluff at the end, a tiny bit of doctor kink at the end

A/N: I really wanted to try my hand at Strange Supreme. My ask box is always open for requests and imagines drabbles! This Here is the outfit inspo for the Reader.

How could it only be one in the afternoon? She shook her head looking away from the clock in the corner of her computer screen and back to the research paper she had been editing. Y/n Y/l/n had been hired as an aid in the Illuminati to assist in the organization's research and development of new technologies. She was more than just a body sitting behind a desk proofreading papers, she earned a background in medicine. Working at the Illuminati was a daytime job, she had been working very hard over the past few years in night school determined to become a physician assistant. She was a medical assistant capable of observing basic exams, performing simple procedures such as immunization injections, and administering some medications under the orders of a doctor. She had wanted to be a nurse when she was younger, but after shadowing and working in the field she knew she wanted to be more hands-on with patients. Physician assistants were just as important as doctors, though their scope of practice was slightly more restricted.

The woman sighed heavily, her eyes scanning over the same line over and over again. She needed a break, and luckily for her, somebody had some divine intervention. A knock came on the wall of her little cubical and a red-haired woman peered around the corner, her lab coat swishing in the wind. "Hey Y/n, got a minute?"

She sat up straighter in her chair, her back hurting some from her terrible posture. "Christine! Hey, yeah. What's going on?"

Christine walked into the space, sitting in the chair opposite the desk. She crossed her legs, placing her hands in her lap. "Nothing much, I was just in the area and wanted to see what you were up to."

The woman chuckled a little, her eyebrows jumping a little. "You were just hanging around the offices for fun?" She didn't believe her friend, but shaking her head she gestured to the screen. "Dr. Richards sent me a report to edit so he can submit it for next month's collections."

"It couldn't be that bad," Christine stated.

The woman looked at her with a deadpan expression. "Quantum science: How it affects the brain. I've never heard of half of these words. I've had to borrow three books from the library, including Hank Pym's Quantum Physics for Dummies."

Christine's nose scrunched up, replying with a simple "Ohh" before shaking her head. "Well, it sounds like you need to unwind after work. And what better way than going to the staff party!"

Y/n hummed a little, not sold on the idea. "I don't know. I have a test coming up in a couple of days. I could really use all the time I can get to study."

"You do have a doctor as a best friend." Christine pointed at herself before the two women laughed.

The other woman shook her head. "I don't know. I don't talk to many people outside of work besides you and Johnny Storm."

"What about Stephen?"

Her jaw dropped a little, her shoulders tensing up. "I don't talk personally with him. He's just one of my bosses. In fact, you're one of my bosses." The woman would come to regret this statement.

"Oh please, you are going to turn down a chance to see Stephen's regular clothes? How many times have you told me you wanted to, and I quote, climb him like a tree."

"Shh!!" She exclaimed, standing up slightly trying to peer over the walls of the cubicle to see if anybody had overheard their conversation. She settled back into her chair, looking back at Christine. "If anybody finds out about that, I'm coming for your left shoes. All of them."

Christine laughed again, moving a piece of her hair that fell out of place. "Come on, I've seen the way you look at him. How your jaw drops slightly when he's around, how you pay extra attention to him when he's talking to you, or in general."

Y/n looked down, shaking her head. Had she really been that obvious about her feelings towards the Sorcerer Supreme, the man behind the Illuminati? "Silly, huh? Somebody like me having feelings for a man like him."

Christine looked at her friend, sighing a little. "I did."

The woman looked up at the red-haired woman, her eyes soft. "But I'm not you, I'll never be anything like you."

Christine looked confused, interested in her friend's response. "How?"

The other woman scoffed, then gestured to Christine. "Look at yourself. You're a doctor, a genius, and you have known him longer than I have. I'm just another aid working here."

Christine nodded. "You also don't put up with a lot. You take your work seriously, you are detailed oriented, and you are one of the few trusted with Reed's and Stephen's research articles. How many other aids here have access to those documents?"

Y/n exhaled sharply through her nose, listening to her words. She may have had a point or two, but that still didn't give her justification to tell Doctor Stephen Strange that she had feelings for him.

Before the woman could speak, Christine stood up, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "As one of your supervisors, I want you to come to the party. It's not a request. I'll help you with any studying you need to do." She then turned around and left, heading out of the offices and back down to the labs.

Y/n sat in disbelief, wondering why she opened her big mouth in the first place. A party with her co-workers was one thing, but to be with her supervisors as well was another story of its own. She knew Christine would make her show up, so it was fruitless to challenge her. If her headache wasn't painful enough from reading the paper, she would have been positive figuring out an outfit would be just as painful.

--

Y/n had her laptop on the kitchen counter next to a mirror and her make-up. She had decided to wear a dark blue dress she had tucked into the back of her closet. It was covered in sequence, sporting long sleeves with a short bottom. It was something nice she had purchased hoping to use it on a rainy day. Well, today was actually a little rainy according to the rain drops on the windows of her apartment. A notification came up on her computer which was linked to her phone. She minimized her web pages and textbook articles before pulling up the conversation and answering the video call. "Hey, Christine!"

Christine smiled, seeing her friend finishing up her makeup. "Glad to see you listened to me, for once."

"For your information, this isn't the first time I've listened to you. You had to pull the supervisor card on me, so now I'm fulfilling my duties given to me."

Christine laughed again. "I feel bad about telling you to come to the party, so I've arranged a ride for you. They should be arriving in about fifteen minutes."

Y/n looked over at the screen, eyeshadow brush in hand. "I can drive. I don't plan on drinking tonight."

"Ah, but you must! There is going to be a speech or two. Plus, you and I both know Johnny will make sure your cup never empties."

"Johnny should know better than that. Yet again, he's Johnny."

Both of the women laughed. "Look, I've got to run. I have a few last-minute details to take care of. I'll see you at the party. Bye!"

"Bye." Y/n ended the screen call before closing the laptop shut. Had she not just applied her make-up she would have rubbed her face. There was nothing wrong with her car or driving to the party. But Christine had already devoted her time to setting transportation up for her. Might as well make the most of this night.

Several minutes passed. The woman had put everything away, put her heels on, gave herself a final look over in her mirror, then grabbed her coat and put it on. She threw her id, cash, and cards into a matching clutch, locking her apartment up as she received a text that her ride had arrived. She took the elevator down to the ground floor, waiting patiently for it to be over. She was still nervous about elevators, a silly fear to have lived on the twelfth floor of her apartment building. The fear that one day the cord would snap and she would be sent plummeting to her death still crept into her mind.

The doors opened up and she quickly exited the elevator, heading through the apartment lobby and outside. Standing before her had been a man dressed in a suit, adjusting his cuff links as he stood by the car. Her cheeks went red as her eyes caught the sight of him standing there. Oh, Christine would not hear the end of this.

Stephen looked up before clearing his throat. "Ah, Y/n." His eyes observed her as she stood almost stiff-like, looking shocked. "Christine told me you were having issues with your car."

Car issues, really? That was the best she could do? She realized she needed to speak up and not be shocked by his presence. "Oh, yeah. It's not working right. My brother is going to look at it for me." her hand gripped her clutch tighter as Stephen turned around, opening the passenger door. She nodded looking up at him, offering a thanks before getting in.

Stephen watched as she got into the car. He hadn't completely sworn driving off, now that he was more comfortable in his skin and his duties when it came to protecting their world. He shut the door behind her, walked around the car, and got into the driver's seat.

The woman had spent her brief few seconds alone to take in a deep breath, concentrating on not sounding like a complete idiot, or looking like one. By his response to her, she was sure he was regretting picking her up. Stephen was quick to get back on the road and towards the party. As always, he and Reed were going to give a speech to the employees before the party really started.

"I do appreciate this, thank you." Breaking the silence, the woman peered over to the man, resting her coat across her lap with her clutch on top of the coat.

He gave a little nod, focusing on the road in front of him. He still had a bit of a need for speed, but he was a slightly better driver now due to his accident. The woman closed her eyes briefly, her mind racing wondering what he was thinking about. He didn't speak during the ride, which made her feel embarrassed about the whole situation. Maybe she could sneak out early from the party and walk home. Though she wouldn't hear the end of it from Christine, and she would feel even more embarrassed around Stephen at work.

Once at the venue, the two exited the car, Stephen once again opening the door for her. She thanked him again as they walked up to the front doors. Once inside, y/n spotted Christine standing next to Johnny. She sent glares at them before Stephen left without a word, finding Reed. Y/n walked over to where her two friends stood, seeing how their eyes scanned her over. "Car issues? That's all you could think of?"

Johnny spoke up. "Car issues is what caused Mr. Sorcerer Supreme Doctor Strange to pick you up, did it not?"

"Pick up, yes. Enjoy, no." It was one of the weirdest, quietest moments of her life. "I've been in exams louder than that car ride. I was an idiot!"

Christine shook her head, then reached out and pulled her friend into a hug. "At least you look nice. Did he say anything about your outfit?"

She shook her head, giving in and returning the embrace. "He was all stoic and reserved the whole time. What was I supposed to do? I tried talking to him, but he was just… silent."

Johnny was about to speak, but an announcement was made over the sound system. "Well, looks like it's speech time. Ladies." He held out both of his elbows to the women, both accepting his arm as they looped their arms through his. The three of them walked towards the crowd, seeing people with trays of champagne flutes approaching everybody. Once with the group of people Johnny, Christine, and Y/n grabbed a flute. Their attention was then brought to the stage seeing Reed and Stephen standing there.

During the time that Reed Richards spoke, the woman couldn't help but stare at Stephen. In a twist of events, he had looked out and spotted her in the crowd, catching her staring every once in a while. She would look down or quickly over to Reed. The muscles in his throat tightened up a couple of times, looking down at the glass of alcohol in his hands. She watched as he would fidget every once in a while with the rim of the glass, his thumb running across the brim. Then it came time for Stephen to speak. He approached the microphone stand as Reed took a few steps back. He looked out to the crowd of employees and workers who showed up at the party.

During his speech, he seemed perfectly fine to the others, but to the people who knew him, they could tell he was not acting like Stephen. He was stumbling over his words, cracking a joke that the alcohol was already beginning to affect him. Christine could tell he was nervous, or that he had something on his mind. She trained her gaze onto him, trying to see what had caught him off guard. It was then she realized he had been staring most of the time at y/n. She gave Johnny's arm a gentle squeeze. Their plan had been working.

"In short, we want to express our gratitude to everybody. Nobody's job is overlooked, and we could not accel without everybody. Let's toast to our successes, and to our future. Salute."

The room repeated, "Salute" as Stephen and Reed raised their glasses. Y/n fell once again on the ocean irises of Stephen Strange, barely mumbling the phrase before slowly raising the glass to her lips.

--

About an hour later, the party was really underway. Y/n, who said she wouldn't have a drink, was working on her third drink. She was standing at the bar, watching as Christine and Johnny were dancing together on the floor, a club song playing. Somebody walked up behind her, grabbing her ass. She turned around, gasping at them. It was somebody she didn't know, and she really didn't appreciate the advances. "Come on, baby. Let's go somewhere more private." He stammered, obviously drunk.

"I'll give you three seconds to walk away." She responded to him.

He hiccuped a little before speaking again, grabbing her left wrist. "I wasn't asking you." he pulled on her wrist, trying to pull her towards him.

She was flustered and wanted to get out of the situation. She acted fast, pulling her right hand into a fist before swinging her arm out, and punching the man in the face. It caused him to let her go.

The man grabbed his face before looking back at her. "You bitch!" he yelled, raising a fist up.

Before she could process that he was swinging at her, the man froze mid-swing. His fist then turned towards himself before following through on the punch. The man fell, laying out on the ground. "Get this douchebag out of here. I was his name, his badge number, and his department head's name."

The woman's face turned to see Stephen from the side, approaching her very quickly. His face was much different from earlier. He looked more focused and angry now, but his eyes seemed to have softened a little when he stopped right next to the woman. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

Her hand was shaking, a high of adrenaline rushing through her veins. She did not notice, but her hand had already started swelling up. He picked it up, his thumb running over the top of one of her knuckles. This caused her to wince, trying to pull her hand back. "You broke your hand." Stephen shook his head before looking over to see the two security guards picking the man up off the ground and towards the doors.

Stephen looked to the bartender, asking for a bucket of ice. "Let's x-ray it in the morning. We need to splint it for tonight though." the bartender walked back over to Stephen and y/n, placing the bucket of ice on the bar.

"It feels fine. I feel fine."

It was a relief to him that you had finally spoken. He moved some of the ice around in the bucket. "Have a seat, let's ice it."

She looked over, seeing her friends still partying and having fun. She sucked in a deep breath before walking over to the seat, hopping up into it. He leaned against the bar next to her, helping her put her hand into the bucket. That was when she felt the pain, the weight of the ice on her hands almost felt firey. "That hurts."

He nodded, looking up at her. "It's going to, it's broken."

"Do you have x-ray vision?" She asked sarcastically.

"Do you have an MD or Ph.D. degree?" he responded.

Her lips thinned out a little. "I'll have you know I'm in my final year of PA school and I'll be starting clinical rotations within the next few months."

He arched one of his eyebrows. "You're in school to be a PA? Why not go for your MD?" He was curious, wondering why she wanted to be a physician's assistant instead of a medical doctor. He moved a few of the ice cubes to rest on the busted knuckle in question.

"I can still go into surgery, depending on whatever specialty I choose, with a surgeon. I can see patients, help people's lives, and get experience in the field before I decide if I want to be a doctor or not." She leaned her elbow on the bar, her hand in her hair as she rested against it.

He looked from her hand and then back to her. "You need to practice punching more. You didn't tuck your thumb in, which is how you broke your hand." He pulled one hand into a fist and used the other one as a stop sign. "You see if your thumb is over your fingers like this," he demonstrated, then pressing his fist to the palm of his opposite hand. "The impact of the force will stop and jam your fingers and hand and your thumb will continue through. Tuck your thumb in like this, and when your punch connects, your fingers won't bounce back and give way."

She watched him as he demonstrated his punch. She knew that his word was valuable. He was a literal superhero, and he was here helping her ice her hand. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her puzzled. "It's not your fault. I watched it happen, he grabbed your ass. You were well within your jurisdiction."

She shook her head, sitting up a little straighter. "I mean about the car ride. Truth is, there's nothing wrong with my car. I planned on driving here, and Christine told me she arranged my transportation."

Stephen's brow arched, hearing her explain what had happened earlier. "What do you mean arranged transportation? I told Christine to tell you I was picking you up."

Y/n's eyes grew hearing what he had to say. "You…?"

He nodded a little, one hand reaching up to his collar. "I've been talking to Christine recently. We have had a few conversations, and I may have let it slip up that…" He chuckled a little, smiling at his own thoughts. "Why is this so weird to say?"

The woman pointed to the ice bucket. "Maybe it's because you literally swooped in to save the day and then began doctoring me?" She was trying to make light of the situation, feeling her insides flipping.

He nodded, looking at the bucket. "There is that." he knew he needed to speak with her. "Look, I thought this party was going to be the best place to do this."

She grew frustrated that he couldn't say what he was trying to, and more with herself. "Stephen, can I call you that? I can't keep pretending that I don't care for you. Because I do care for you." She stated, feeling better about speaking about it after having some liquid courage coursing through her veins. "I care about what you have to say, how you feel, what others think about you. I know we don't speak much outside of work, and I know you are an incredibly busy man. But, damn it, I can't pretend that some part of me doesn't feel attached to you."

Stephen remained silent while she spoke, even a minute or two after she spoke. Her fear started to get the best of her, the tip of her heel bouncing against the barstool. Maybe it was all a little too much for him, or maybe he felt the complete opposite about her.

"Say something." She begged him in a whisper between the two of them.

Stephen's hand lifted up, a slight tremor could be seen as he reached up to cup her face. "I was going to ask you to come to the party with me tonight. Christine had told me a while ago that you had feelings for me, the same day I went to her to tell her I… I have feelings for you, Y/n." His words made all of the sounds around them go silent to her. She watched him as he reached out to her, slightly crumbling in his delicate touch. "I want to get to know you better, I want to know you outside of the Illuminati."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Maybe it was a dream, a dream she could find herself forever indulged in. She leaned a little towards him as he held her face, forgetting about the pain in her hand now. "I'd like that too." She replied.

He smirked looking at her. The song changed, a popular song recently. It even made it onto one of his playlists. "I would invite you for a dance, but that hand of yours is-"

"It's nothing." She replied, pulling her hand out of the bucket. "It's numb, and I think it's time Dr. Strange finally danced at one of his own parties." She slipped off the barstool, her good hand reaching up to rest on his wrist, his hand still on her face.

He was now looking down at her. "Are you holding back?" he asked her.

"Shut up, and dance with me." She faced him, taking a few steps back towards the dance floor. He followed her, not wanting her to leave his side. The two of them began to dance together, joining the others. She eventually ended up with her back pressed against his chest. Her injured and stayed tightly to her chest, her left hand moving up and down her side. Stephen's hands rested on her hips as their hips swayed together.

Stephen took a moment in the middle of the song to spin her around, placing both of his hands on either side of her face. "Keep your eyes on me."

"Now you're holding back." She commented.

He smirked. "Shut up, and kiss me." He mocked her earlier phrase.

"Yes, doctor." She replied before leaning up on her tiptoes. Stephen leaned down, their lips crashing against each other. Please around them began to cheer as they continued to dance. Christine and Johnny were the loudest, watching as their friends gave in to the temptation of their hearts.