#this song is so deep I could operate on it surgically

[jacarandaaaas]

Waiting on a miracle begins as a reprise of “the family madrigal” because that entire song is about her trying to keep up her facade but ultimately the hidden insecurities can’t stay down forever and it’s the very beginning of waiting on a miracle where the facade CRACKS.

[thoughtsandbones]

The flesh you thread between my blood and bones slows down the pendulum of death

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙

WARNINGS: Mention of profanity, scars, fluff, anxiety, medical inaccuracies, surgery, blood, gore and just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.

Plot: Doctor Ruhari Hari Kaur (OC is South Asian ☺️) joins the 141 again, but this time as their doctor. After the betrayal of Shepherd and Graves, Task Force 141 begins their hunt on his whereabouts and locating Makarov.

PLEASE reblog and like! Hope folks are enjoying the series, I am building up characters and plots, cos I have a lot ideas and just been enjoying writing :D

Song inspo: Don't Fear the Reaper - Tom Jones, American Idiot - Green Day, After Dark - Mr.Kitty, 1973 - James Blunt

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)

All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14 and PART 15 I

Part 15 II

Ghost stared at the yellow sign reading in black NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT on the white double doors that led to the operating room where Soap had been wheeled in by both doctors, surrounded by other medical staff.

As he walked behind them when they rushed ahead he heard them shouting all sorts of medical jargon. You were so calmly ordering for mLs of drugs with too many Zs. He looked down at his skeletal gloves, the fake bones once white now stained red with Johnny's blood.

Looking up again at the sign he thought of you. How your hands would also be bloodied, pouring deep into Soap's body, mending him.

You gotta save him he pleaded in his head. He couldn't lose Soap, not now. Not after what they had been through together in Mexico, Chicago... now this.

'C'mon Lt!' Soap's words rang through his skull. Guilt flooded his chest as he remembered moments of how blunt he had been to Soap...

Squeezing his fist tight, Ghost sighed and then walked down the corridor until he found himself a chair in an empty room and plopped the chair right outside those double doors. Sitting down, Ghost winced with pain, the cut sobbed as he sat down and moved his torso.

"Fuuuck" He growled quietly.

Leaning back, he shut his eyes letting the darkness wash over him.

...

Soap was lifted onto the surgical bed. As you and Peyton scrubbed in, the nurses dressed him. Through the window of the scrub room you watched as he was intubated, his bloodied clothes discarded in the yellow hazard bin.

Once scrubbed and prepped, you assume the lead role in the surgery. Neuro was your speciality, this was a spinal injury. This is your arena. Closing your eyes, you breathe in.

"It's a beautiful night to save lives" You say, opening your eyes. Peyton eyes crinkle, a sign she was smiling under her medical mask.

"10 blade" You say and the nurse gives your instrument. You place the edge of the blade two inches above the bullet wound, applying pressure with your index finger you slide the blade across the skin unveiling the flesh beneath.

"Suction" Peyton says and she moves in with the machine that gargles up the blood from the exposed muscle

Peeling back the muscular layers you clamp down areas needing support. Soap's lumbar was one display. No major damage could be seen.

"Bullet must've missed the lumbar" Peyton says

"L1 clear" You say inspecting the upper lumbar region, with your blade you move down

"L2 clear"

"Suction" Peyton says

"L3 clear" you say and then move down

"Suction"

As you looked around L4, there was a sudden gush of blood and the monitors started beeping rapidly

"Found the bullet" You say "Clarissa, Kerrison rongeur" holding your left hand up whilst holding the area with your blade as Peyton continued suction. The beeping subdued.

"Need another pair of hands for this" You say

Peyton gave the suction pipe to the nurse on her right and then took hold of a clamp and forceps.

Cutting away at the connective tissue and muscle you peel the layer as Peyton grabs the shrapnel

"Hard part now.." She said after depositing the shrapnel in dish

Rapid beeping started again. You and Peyton both move together, suction, cutting, threading and assessing any damage to the surrounding nerves.

"Pulse at 120" Clarissa said as she took hold of the forceps from Peyton

"Shit" You say as more blood gushed from the wound which was quickly slurped away from the suction pipe.

"Sutures" Peyton said and she began to sew up the first damaged nerve.

There was a increase in beeping

"Pulse 150"

"Let me do it" You say and Clarissa swiftly gives you a new set of sutures.

After adjusting yourself you look down "Surgical microscope please" And the microscope was brought down to your level and adjusted to your eyeline.

Focusing your eyes through the lense you begin to graft the a new nerve from the damaged nerve, cutting the damaged part and sewing the ends.

This was your element. Fixing the broken. Mending the hurt.

After 5 hours of intense surgery, you and Peyton were nearly finished. The beat of song playing off the speaker was echoing across the walls of the OR. Nodding your head along to the drum of Green Day's American Idiot as you finished suturing the final layer of Soap's skin.

"Nice finish" Peyton said as she cleaned the area "Stats are good" she added looking at the various monitors that beeped rhythmically along with the music.

"Pause music please" You said, one of the nurses pauses.

You cut the last suture and place the forceps onto the tray held by Clarissa.

"Good job Dr Kaur" She said nodding at you. You nod back and return to admire the handiwork which was being dressed by Peyton and another nurse.

"He is stable and stats are looking great" Clarissa says as you eye the monitor. You turn to her and smile, putting more effort to crinkle as your mouth was hidden behind the mask.

"We will take him back to the ICU just for observation" Peyton said as she moved over from Soap to you and Clarissa.

"I'll help take him" Clarissa said "Well done"

"No thank you" You say "Thank you everyone" You say loudly to the rest of the medical team all who respond with a cheerful thanks back.

"I'm gonna head back" You say

"I'll keep you updated, and let you know when the team can see him" Peyton says taking her gloves off as they left the OR, she tapped you on the shoulder and walked off.

Taking off your surgical cover, masks and gloves you wash the grimy sweat off your hands. The smell of strong disinfectant soap filled your nose.

Leaving the scrub room you walk off back towards the double doors where you had rolled Soap in. He was okay now. Had to wait until he was awake to see if there is any nerve damage to his legs...

Checking one of the clocks on the hallway you realise it was 11:49am, you longed for a hot shower and then the comfort of your bed. Walking through the double doors, midway through yawning you were met with a giant man sat in the middle of the hallway. The skull face gave you a jump. It took a few moments to register that it was Ghost.

"Lieut-"

Ghost leapt up from his chair and nearly toppled you over as he confronted you

"Is he alright? Did he make it?" He blurted, his eyes widening at you.

You stare back into his eyes, only just able to make out the blue iris.

"He's okay." You say, reaching your right hand up to to his shoulder.

"His legs, said somethin' abou' his legs" Ghost huffed at you

"Ghost, he is stable and in the ICU, regarding his legs, we will have to wait until he wakes up to assess any damage." You to him calmly

He takes in this information, your calm demeanor. Of course you know what you are doing he thought to himself

"Are you okay sir? You ask

"I'm okay" Ghost said quickly.

You look at him curiously, there was something off about him.

"Okay then.." You say moving away from him.

Ghost moves towards the chair and picked it up with his left arm, the sudden weight made him wince and groan as his unattended wound stretched and weep as he moved.

"Fuuck" He whispered to himself as he set the chair back down and placing his right hand over his wound on the left side of his waist.

"Lieutenant what happened?" You say rushing over to him

"Nothin'" He said trying to push you away. You scoff at him and roll your eyes.

"Ghost, I'm in no mood for bullshit" You say sharply at him. Ghost looked at you, eyebrows narrowed, your eyes slightly red and clearly tired.

He was being rude again.

"I got a nick" He said motioning to his wound looking at your stern face, eyes narrowed. Clearly annoyed. "Can you patch me up?" He asks, your stern face relaxed, softened.

"Right, come with me" You say letting out a big sigh and head out of the RAMC building and then back to the infirmary in Building 2.

Turning the light on you spritz the med bed and give it a quick wipe.

"Get your vest off" You say plainly to Ghost who follows your command. He unties the straps and then sets his vest aside. Attempting to take his hoodie off but he couldn't as the wound caused him to wince further.

"Need some help?" You say as you look over to Ghost who was clearly struggling.

"Alrigh' then" He said and braced himself as you walk closer to him, bringing your hands to his body, rolling the hem of his hoodie slowly and carefully.

Ghost winced again as you went near his waist.

"Might have to cut it off" You suggest looking up at him.

"Go on then" He mumbled, the edge of his mouth curved slightly under his mask.

Grabbing a pair of clothing shears, you cut the hoodie off Ghost, revealing a damp black shirt underneath, his bare muscular arms on unveiled. You look at his waist, and see a patch of dried up blood, parts of his shirt clung to his skin dried and wrinkled.

"Sit on the med bed please" You motioning to the bed and then you walk off to the bathroom to wash your hands. Sleep eludes you. Drying your hands you head back to where Ghost was, who was now sitting crouched on the edge of med bed.

Putting on a pair of gloves and grabbing a stool with your foot you slide close to Ghost, and lift the t-shirt. As suspected the parts that clung to the skin where dried stuck to the wound. An impromptu weak bandage.

"Gonna also have to cut your shirt around the wound, it's dried to the gash"

Ghost looked down at you.

"Can't you bandage it?" He asks and the expression your face held clearly showed he asked a stupid question.

Your look of disbelief subdued, and grabbed the scissors. Ghost's heart quickened. He didn't mind being shirtless. But not when he has been in the field with limited availability to shower, smelt like shit and especially in front of a woman he was interested in...

"Wai-" Ghost began but he was too late, you began to cut his shirt off him, exposing his sticky sweaty scarred skin.

As you cut away at the fabric you notice various deep pink and white scars adorned on his chest and abdomen. Dirt had built up in areas, but it was expected. A shower is the last thing you need in the field.

Grabbing some saline water and a towel, you wash away dirt surrounding the remaining cloth covering his wound. Gently, with your gloved fingers you peel the cloth away revealing the gammy wound. Inflamed and dirty.

"Lift your arm" You ask and Ghost does so and watches as your pour more saline to the wound, his eyes focused on the precision placement of your fingers on his waist, not ogling him.

He slightly winces as your fingers graze over a sensitive area. As you examine the area, you notice it was bumpy, sand had gotten into the wound.

"This area is very inflamed. Lie down, it'll sting as I clean it" You say gently

Ghost shuffled back and then. laid down and then turned his head to watch as you focused on cleaning his wound, your concentration unwavering as you focused on the task at hand. He noticed the lack of talking, just blunt and no joy. But then, you did just finish a 6 hour surgery.

He gazed at your tired eyes, noticed how you rapidly blink every now and then, your mouth pursed, no smile on show. You grabbed some small gauze and wiped the wound.

"This is going to need stitches" You say

"Hmm" Ghost mumbled "I'll let you get to work, I'll just be here" He adds

You laugh slightly and then finish cleaning the area before starting to suture the two layers of fatty tissue and muscle, pulling the flesh together again, wiping away any blood with clean gauze.

Ghost felt himself slip into the bed beneath him as you got to work, focusing on his breathing; in for four, hold, then out slowly for four. Drifting away, away from the chaos of the last 24 hours. Away from the chaos that still looms ahead of him.

<CUE FLASHBACK> 23rd August 2010 Ashfield Base, mess hall "Sergeant Riley" You said as you plopped down opposite your superior in the mess hall with your lunch, the hall was mostly empty, the radio played on the speaker overhead. "Cadet" Sergeant Riley said not looking up from his cup of tea and half-eaten sausage roll. "C'mon sir, you know my name" You quipp at him as you take a bite of your pizza. Simon looks up from his cup and stars at you, your eyes widened and the grin appeared on your face. "Cadet Ruhari" He sighed looking back at his sausage roll. "Cadet maybe no more" You say cheerfully Simon looked up quickly "What do you mean?" He asked "Captain asked if I wanted to come join full time, commit proper into the army." You said "Ah" Simon said quietly "Ain't you got some good brains for uni?" He added and looked at you as you shrugged "Maybe can do it later, but I do enjoy this" You say motioning the space around you. "Nothin' enjoyable about war" He said sharply You were taken aback "Of course not sir, I just meant as in discipline, camaraderie and the protection of one's country" "Hmm" Simon mumbles giving you a slight cold stare with his sharp blue eyes. In that moment of silence, the radio station at base start playing 1973 by James Blunt. The echoes of the piano filled your body and you began to twiddle your fingers to the beat of the drum. Looking at Simon you start to grin, he looks up at you as you begin to mouth the lyrics: Simona.. you're getting older Your journey's been etched on your skin... "Simonaaaa" You sing quietly and giggle Simon gazed at your joyous smile as you continued to mouth the lyrics of the stupid song that made a twist of his name. He watched on as you exaggerated the 'mona' part of Simona and laughed along with you. Simon knew the Captain was going to offer you a place in the army, but he had hoped you would decline. Going out in the field changes people. Changes the best of people. Turns them into someone else. Would you still be the same after you see the horrors of war? Simon wondered as he watched you finally finish the now cold slice of pizza. He would hate to see that beautiful smile disappear.

[monstermaster13]

Name: Eucalyptus or Eukie for short, that's what my friends call me.

Species: I am a koala-girl just like Mel.

Gender: Female.

Theme Song: Too many songs I like to be honest I can't pick just one to be my theme song but Pagan Poetry, Skin by Madonna (anything of the Erotica, Ray of Light, or Bedtime Stories albums of hers), Weird Science, No Spill Blood, Number 1 Crush, but i'd definitely say if I could pick one it would be Slave to Love by Bryan Ferry.

Personality: Me and Eucalyptus have the same adorkable personality type only i'm a bit more chaotic and hyperfixate a lot on some of the most unusual things like for example aquariums, I will go in a pet-store just to stare at a fish-tank for several hours and I know all the names of the fish species by heart so that helps and I hyperfixate on predatorial fish which includes deep sea fish - a lot too (my mer-koala form is part lion-fish, which has a symbolic meaning for me, because...how do I put it? A lion-fish has beautiful colors but has a poisonous touch with their quills, I also have a stonefish version, the lionfish sums me up in a lot of ways I may look lovely but I can give you a nasty sting if you get too grabby, and the stonefish obviously symbolically means that you shouldn't be deceived by me for I can kill you if you're not careful).

Likes: Synth-wave, dark-synth, hanging out with my friends, my hyperfixations, going on adventures with Mel.

Dislikes: If you do so much as question my tastes or even hurt my friends for their opinions I am coming after you (don't worry, you can choose how you'd like to die), go anywhere near Mel and Matthias or Nathan and you're next.

Love interest: I don't have one yet.

Friends: Mel, Nathan, and all my friends here.

Biggest pet peeve: I can understand having different opinions than someone else but attacking my friends based on theirs...sorry pal, hope you've got a death-wish or a bucket-list of things you want to do before you pass away because i'm coming for you. Also don't you dare say anything bad about Dan Aykroyd around me or about Simon Cowell, don't you dare...if you do, chances are you might be a limb (don't worry i'll put your missing limb back on, it will come back on its own I promsie, that is if I don't decide to do my brand of surgical operations on you). Christmas With The Kranks..ugh..'watch Christmas With The Kranks' they said...'It has Dan Aykroyd in it'...they said, so I did and I hated Dan's character (Dan how could you do this to me), Blues Brothers 2000 (This made me sad, because it didn't feel like the first movie at all, it felt watered down), Scary Movie 3 (the story goes like this...Werebelushi In Shades and I were reviewing the Scary Movie franchise with Nathan, and we were watching the third movie and I saw the 8 Mile parody scene and saw my beloved Simon on there and he gets shot and that made me mad. What did he do to get shot? All he did was say he didn't like the rapper's performances and that he didn't know what he was doing there, those rappers are pussies. Ugh..thank goodness for the deleted scene version, that's way better. I know it's popular to hate Simon, but he's just doing his job), Exit to Eden (I'll only review this if I do it with Werebelushi or Mel, Oatsie won't review it with me because he doesn't like BDSM or anything involving that type of gear due to the trauma he suffered from enduring Ciel's awful drone transformations), forced mind control, overly cutesy mommy and baby stuff, diaper fetishism, suiting as a transformation method (Look if you want to be stuffed in a suit just play FNAF, any version of it, don't ruin a perfectly good transformation by putting suiting into it),

Best friends: Mel, Nathan.

Tidbit: I carry around a Crystal Head skull that can see into the future, 'he' knows and sees everything even if it's something that already happened, also he or she who controls the skull and its powers also controls the universe.

Favorite Actor: Dan Aykroyd, but I also Chris Walken, Kyle Maclachlan, Jeff Goldblum and Jeffrey Combs.

Favorite Places/Attractions: Spirit Halloween, Weta Workshop Unleashed, London Dungeon's, Centralia P.A.

Favorite Book: Any of HP Lovecraft's novels, Dune by Frank Herbert. I have a sandworm farm in my backyard. They are only small but they are growing.

Pets: My two Audrey II plants Archie and Clarabelle. Archie has a big mouth but I love him, I feed anyone who harms my friends to him or give him their blood, because I know he loves blood (Clarabelle is the opposite and doesn't like her brother doing these sort of things), I also have a sandworm and sentient furniture pets.

Favorite video game: Mortal Kombat 11, Dead By Daylight. Injustice 2, Resident Evil: Village (Moreau is my favorite, I love that lonely fish-man).

Favorite Directors: Jordan Peele, Tim Burton, John Landis, David Cronenberg, David Lynch, Joe Dante.

Favorite food: Difficult to say...I have many favorites.

Favorite color: Green, dark green in particular.

Favorite TV Show: SNL, Twin Peaks, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Grimm, Tales From The Crypt, Goosebumps, Are You Afraid of The Dark, the Grim Adventures of Billy And Mandy, Ash VS Evil Dead, Creepshow: The Series, Creeped Out, OG American Idol (Okay the contestants sucked but...come on, I am not there to see those contestants make idiots out of themselves, I came for Simon...what? I totally don't have a thing for him or anything, oh wait..of course I do), The X Factor, Britain's Got Talent, America's Got Talent (I thought I wouldn't be able to fall for 'nice Simon' as I did when he was the bitter one on American Idol but to my surprise I did, and aaaaaw...seriously, this Simon is so friendly and playful and he likes the most unusual acts). Did I mention how much I love Twin Peaks to the point that I decorated the spare bedroom in the apartment to look like the black lodge? Oh and did I mention how I learned how to speak backwards because I like how it's done in the black lodge scenes?

Hobbies: Moviemaking, making experiments. I am a film-maker for the most part and me and Mel have our own Youtube channel like Matthias/Werebelushi does where we show off our music videos and film projects, my speciality is the surreal side of things so I take inspiration from David Lynch, also I have my own special fx studio. We all have different styles of movie-making, I have a heavy Tim Burton and David Lynch influence when it comes to my style so if you like those directors you'll like my videos, and you might my 'lore videos' where I have deep dive into shows I've watched (like Buffy for example), and if you like Nightmare Fuel you'd some of my entries including my attempts at making Body Horror movies. That's something for all of you to see on the channel.

Favorite Movies: Blue Velvet, Reanimator, anything Full Moon Features makes, any Dan Aykroyd movie except for the folowing ones - Exit to Eden, North, Blues Brothers 2000, Christmas With The Kranks, GB 2016. The House With A Clock In Its Walls, Rosemary's Baby (I tricked Oatsie into watching that movie once because I noticed Oats was into babysitting and being a mommy and I told him this movie had a woman being a mommy in it, and he watched it and well..he was traumatized after he saw Rosemary being impregnated by the devil although he did admit he found Rosemary's red dress to be beautiful. Yes it is definitely my fault for traumatizing him since I admit to tricking him into watching that), RHPS (Rocky Horror is the inspiration for my 'Doctor Eucalyptus' persona, and you should see my Eddie Teddy, it's a giant frankenteddy I sometimes display in my room), Dune 1984, any Troma film, Bad Taste, Meet the Feebles, Dark Crystal, Transylvania 6-5000, The Fly (1986), The Hunger, Highway to Hell, Heriditary, Nope, Us, Get Out, Krampus, Midsommar.

[all-about-seggs]

A Fine Specimen-

Rating : 18+, Mature, Yandere-verse

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x female reader.

Word count : 2.3k

Warning's : Dark themes, Yandere behaviour, non-con, drugging, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, vaginal sex.

The lights on the low run down ceiling kept flickering, as you try your best to pull yourself out of your trance. The room was dark except for the surgical lights pointed straight on your figure, it seemed like an abandoned operation theatre, or atleast it should be, considering its dingy state. Every effort of looking around and trying to make sense of your current predicament has been futile, even staying level headed in this strange place was a constant struggle.

Your entire body felt heavy despite the fact that you didn’t even had a thread of clothing on you, the cold air of the room hitting you body made another alarm go off in your head. You’d think you were strapped to the cold hard examination table but it was simply the numbness of your limbs that prevented you from moving. Panic started to flood through your system as you racked your brain for any possible reasoning, as to why you were being treated like a test subject. Sure you lived in a society filled with supernatural beings but you were nothing if not normal.

The gradually increasing sound of footsteps pulled you out of your reverie but judging by the situation your in, it most likely wasn’t a good thing. Soon the person who enters, will see you at your most vulnerable, half conscious and naked state, it was humiliating but you had to pull yourself together if you wanted to survive.

Your sleep laden eyes were the only part that you could move but the light shining above you made it quite straining to focus so you stayed still.

A shadow casted itself upon you indicating the person who entered was tall, probably a male and stronger too. In your current state he made you feel like a rag doll as he stared at your form. You’d describe him as a hunter sizing up his prey if you could see his eyes, which were covered by a blindfold. But that wasn’t the only thing peculiar about him, his hair was as white as snow, the lights above you giving him an otherworldly glow when he leaned on you. His pink lips that looked so smooth, shined with the slightest movement. His beautiful features screamed perfect not creep.

“Hellooo~ Y/n chan, are you awake?…..”, He asked in a sing song voice and a smile on his lips that contrasted with the sombre atmosphere of the room.

So he knew your name? It’s not surprising if he was the one who brought you here, but it was the first time you met this person and he had enough quirks that anyone would remember even without having to converse with him. You were barely managing to keep your eyes half open and speaking seemed far too big of a struggle, your body wasn’t listing to you since the moment you woke up so all you could do was wait for him to explain himself, if he’s even planning to.

A few seconds passed in silence before the white haired man continued, “You probably don’t remember but you were attacked. By a curse, I mean.”

His tone held no compassion as his cheery voice continued, “ You were hurt pretty badly and almost got swallowed, but I made it in time so it’s all right now. You need to get examined for any signs of trauma or any other serious injuries, it’s just that your doctor is running a bit late so I decided to take over”, his face drew closer as he practically breathed on your lips, the warmth radiating from his body almost giving you a false sense of relief that was short lived when you felt his hand cup your breast.

“ You don’t mind right?, I’ll make sure to throughly check each.and.every.detail”, he cooed against your ear giving your cold breast a soft squeeze the stranger left feather light kisses up your neck. You may not be a medical expert but even you knew no medical examinations include foreplay. Your body was still as stiff as a rock and even if you were injured it seemed unusual for you to lose the entire control of your limbs and voice, so you put all your strength into pulling out a broken scream from your clogged throat. It was a futile effort but you couldn’t just let yourself be fondled by some stranger who clearly didn’t looked or acted sound of mind.

“ What’s wrong y/n? Didn’t that felt good?”, There was obvious confusion in his tone, as if he doesn’t realise he doesn’t have your consent but as outrageous as it seemed to you his touch felt good, comforting even. His touch was the only thing that gave you warmth since you regained consciousness and maybe it’s your dazed state or the fact that you’ve been lying on this hard surface or its in his superficial beauty that was making your body feel at ease instead of tensing up.

The murky room that previously made you shiver, now felt warm with a sweet scent in the air, “ Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you~”, he whispered softly in your ear, moving your breasts tenderly so as to not cause you any pain, and then lightly he rolled your perked up nipple between his fingers, delighting at the sight of your face twisting up in pleasure you can’t refuse.

He tilted your chin upwards to gain more access to your throat and started sucking a trail of red marks from your jaw to the valley between your breasts, they felt tingly and soft at first, his kisses lighting you’re numb body on fire, a feeling that was undeniably delightful albeit forceful.

“ Not gonna put on a fight now sweetheart? What a good girl you are!”, His voice took a maniacal pitch, but his smile appeared to be of genuine nature as if he really did wanted to take care of you.

“ Let’s get serious now shall we?”, Saying that he moved towards your legs, he bent over your naked pussy and parted your thighs as much as your currently stiff body allowed. It was clear to him that you wanted to protest, wanted to hide yourself and run away but your slightly parted lips that couldnt make out any screams of pain or pleasure, those half lidded eyes which were struggling to focus on what was happening to the rest of your body, it was all part of what made your current violator’s desire surge through his blood .

His hand that parted your legs gave the inner part of your thighs a gentle pinch, as he kept on stroking the soft flesh. Moving his left hand inbetween them he reached for your glistening nether lips beneath curls of pubic hair, with two of his long thick fingers he pried them open. Licking his lips like he was about to devour a delicious meal he brought his face closer to your sex until his tongue made contact with your clit. He took the tiny nodule in his mouth and gave it a hard suck making you shiver and with that, every ounce of fight left in you died as you started to surrender yourself to his touch that promised the kind of tantalizing euphoria you’ve never imagine possible.

Your body was beginning to heat up to the point of burning as your senses started catching up to the white haired guy’s mouth which relentlessly worked your clit back and forth. Slipping two fingers of his right hand in your tight cunt, he made more of your white hot cum flow out, your face was the picture of bliss as he kept on licking your slick covered pussy. He shoved his fingers inside you harder and faster until you began tightening around him, your pussy started convulsing when that coil of pleasure unwinding in the pit of your stomach reached its peak. With a slight squeeze of his digits you came on his face, just like he wanted you to.

He smiled while watching you come down from your high, the mess your quivering body made was a beautiful sight for him and he wanted to savour every second of it. You though the fire that he kindled inside you would calm down after you came but your body kept on shaking even when your orgasm had ended. It was like your body was not yours anymore, like it didn’t belong to you but the guy who was in front of you. It was only when he was touching you that made your senses come back to yourself and as soon as he drew away you were left unable to control even a single limb of yours.

“ I’m glad to see it was enjoyable for you my sweetness, although I couldn’t swallow all it, I think i was able to get a good enough taste of you”, he spoke in a low baritone. “ I really wanted to hear your cute voice crying out for me but I suppose I went overboard with your medications, so I guess that won’t be happening”, his tone lacked regret but atleast now you knew why your body was acting funny and how this person was insane if he thinks drugging you is giving medication, despite your reasoning all rationality had already left your brain, only leaving you with an unquenchable thirst for his touch.

From the corner of your eye you could see him swiftly unzipping his pants to take out his hard member. He mounted on you still palming his hard on and it only now dawned on you just how huge he was, his body completely enveloped yours making you feel small as he planted one hand beside your head. He leaned down to kiss your parted lips, slipping his tongue inside, you could taste the remnants of your cum on it when he licked the roof of your mouth. His kiss was so hard it almost felt like he was sucking the life out of you not stopping until your consciousness started to waver again.

“ Haaaa… Sorry, I got carried away, breath for me cupcake, Its no good if I have to hump your unconscious body.”, With that he placed his right hand on the back of your knee and pushed it all the way up to your chest, this new position giving him more access to your still swollen and trembling cunt.

In one smooth motion he was buried deep in you, the slick from your last orgasm gave him enough lubrication that he started moving immediately. His pace was fast, but not violently so. It was the right amount of deep and long as he pulled himself out until only his tip remain inside of you before pushed it in again. He watched your reactions intently as he maintained his steady pace, though mildly, you were still able to contort your face like anyone who is being fucked so good. Soon you felt your second orgasm approach and he speed up his own actions to chase his high as well.

“ Gojo…..Satoru…..”, He said inbetween his rhythmic thrusts, “ that’s my name, so let me make you….. remember …it…..”, With a few more hard thrusts a familiar pleasure washed over you. Your pussy clenched around his cock making him follow you soon after.

Panting heavily, he leaned down to rest his forehead against the crook of your neck, beads of sweat trickling down his face as he calmed himself down. He didn’t pull himself out until both of your heavy breaths became steady, still looming over you. Raising his head he licked your lips, and with a low growl against your mouth he put one of his hand on your throat, wrapping itself around it completely, his actions sent a shiver up your spine. He started putting pressure on only some very particular spots, causing your eyes to roll back, making the already delicate state of consciousness to fade. But before you felt yourself getting knocked out you heard him speak again.

“Next time…… I’ll make you say it”, he said calmly as the man named Satoru withdrew his hands from your neck.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Wolf Like Me

A/N So there I was, all ready to keep working on my new historical AU, when Metric Jamie and Claire barged into my brain and started making demands.  I’d been neglecting them, they said.  I hardly ever let them indulge in smut, they said.  I could only go back to writing the AU once I gave them their due.  The things I do for these two loons, man...

The title song is by TV on the Radio and doesn’t have much to do with the subject matter, except for one line which has always made me... *pulls at imaginary collar*

The entire Metric Universe, now chronologically ordered, can be found here.  I’m placing this new installment between Ceremonies and Lazy Dancer, so sometime during the first month or so of their physical relationship.

The light filtering into their compact kitchen was diffuse, watery and dull as the weather outside.  He went through the motions of preparing coffee, despite the fact he wasn’t working until later in the afternoon.  By all rights, he should be sound asleep.  His aching body had lifted him from the shoals of sleep and his weighty thoughts had kept him grounded there.

Carrying his mug and a reheated meat pasty over to the sofa, he lowered himself gingerly to the cushions.   He had been ridden hard and put away wet, he mused.  On the surface, this wasn’t a disagreeable state, but very little about his budding relationship with Claire could be safely interpreted on its surface.

As though summoned by his thoughts, his one-time roommate and seemingly voracious lover emerged from his room and padded down the hallway to the bathroom.  She looked like a cross between an albino gazelle and a harried hedgehog.  Even in his current mood, he couldn’t help but smile fondly.  His love for this woman was monumental, rooted deep in his soul and reaching out to span the horizons of his life.  He only had to find a way to keep it, and her, from killing him.  Piece of cake.

Frazzled hair now somewhat tamed, Claire settled gracefully next to him with her own coffee, near-translucent eyelids lowering in bliss as she took her first sip.  He wondered if she could sense to waves of tension that emanated from his skin like heat from a sunbaked street.

“So,” she murmured at last, “last night was pretty wild, huh?”

Right topic, wrong interpretation.  Still, she had brought it up, and that was the best opening he could hope for.

“Mmhmm,” he replied non-committedly.

“I thought I might have to hook you up to a saline I.V. there at the end.  What was that, four times?”  She grinned slyly at him from over the rim of her mug.

“Three,” he corrected, although he couldn’t fault her observations.  His balls were still tender.

Finally reading his mood, Claire placed her mug down deliberately on the table.  She turned to face him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

“Don’t overdo the accolades on my account.  Jesus, Jamie, you’d think I ruined your favourite rugby jersey, not rocked your world in bed.  Are you mad about the handcuffs?”

Despite everything, his cock twitched in his shorts at Claire’s mention of last night’s foray into light bondage: his, not hers.  While not a kink he’d explored before, his reaction has been far from disinterested.  No, he wasn’t mad about the handcuffs.

“Ye seem verra keen tae discuss my opinion o’ last night, Sassenach.  What I’d like tae ken is did ye like it?”

Spluttering, Claire ran her hands nervously through her hair.  He watched her carefully as she tried to navigate towards an acceptable answer.  It was a delicate operation he was undertaking.  He would need all of Claire’s surgical dexterity to broach the topic without cutting through the tender tissue of her perfectionism.

“What a ridiculous question, Jamie!” she finally said.  “I’m pretty certain our neighbours needed a cigarette by the time I was done.”  Collecting her still half-full mug, she made to rise.  He held her in place with a palm across her thigh.  Beneath his touch, her muscles were twitching.

“Aye, but were ye?”

“Was I wot?”  Her eyes were fixed on the kitchen, as though longing for escape.

“Were ye done?”  He spoke slowly, softly, tiptoeing into a minefield.

“Jamie...” she chuckled nervously.

“I want tae say somethin’ to ye, Sassenach, and I dinna want ye tae take it fer criticism...”

“Jamie,” she repeated, this time in a warning tone.

“Nah, ye need tae hear this, Claire.  I love ye, as ye ken well.  I love everything about ye, even the annoying bits.  An’ because I love ye, nothing makes me happier than tae see ye well pleased and tae ken twas I who brought ye that pleasure.  Do ye understand my meaning?”

Enormously wet eyes stared at him, a furrow between her arched brows as though she was working through a riddle.  At last, she nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’m no’ daft, Claire, nor am I sae blinded by lust that I canna see that ofttimes, when we lie t’gether, yer enthusiasm can be a wee bit.... what’s the word?  The one the Millennials throw about when a thing is designed for somebody else’s consumption?”

“Performative,” said in a bleak voice.

“Aye, performative.  And while it’s a dream come true tae bed you, t’would be a million times better if I kent ye were taking yer bliss for yerself, an’ no’ giving it tae me like some sort of gift ye dinna deserve.”

He paused, trying to read whether his words had found their mark or if she was about to pack her bags and tell him to go to hell.  He wasn’t exaggerating.  Sex with Claire was infinitely better than any other sex in his life.  And while he didn’t have some vast experience of women, he’d been with enough to know when Claire’s enthusiasm was feigned.  She wanted him, of that he was certain, but she’d never learned to take.  It would be the rarest privilege to be the one to show her, if only she would let him in. He could teach her tricks that would blow her mind.

***

“I feel foolish.”

“Whatever for, mo nighean donn?”

They were lying in his rumpled sheets, still fragrant with the previous night’s debauchery.  Rather than tear him a new asshole for his audacity, to his everlasting surprise Claire had crumpled into his side with a breathy sob.  He had carried her back to his room like a bridegroom.  There, with tender lips and winnowing fingers, he had eased her into a rare moment of emotional vulnerability.

“I’m studying to be a doctor, for Christ’s sake.  And I’m hardly a blushing virgin...”

He gritted his teeth, trying to avoid thinking of the selfish men that came before him.  They weren’t here now, holding this fierce but complicated woman in their arms, her maple eyes and molasses hair spilling all over him.  He wasn’t her first lover, but god willing, he would be her last.

“Ye’re a giver, Sassenach.  It’s who ye are, down to yer core.  Tis hardly yer fault ye were never taught that pleasure is the gift that gives.”

“Will you?  Teach me?”

A shiver ran the length of his spine, lighting his nerves like sparklers.  Even after the night they’d just spent, blood flooded to his cock like a bruise.  He’d have to be dead to not rouse at such a request from this woman.

“Aye, mo ghradh.  It would be my pleasure.”   And he meant it.

Rather than immediately strip naked, they spent a good deal of time kissing and petting, their clothed hips settling into an easy grind.  Everywhere he sampled, she was sweet and salty, sour and bitter, a smorgasbord for his tongue and his mind.  It was this variety, this seemingly endless combination of textures and moods, that captivated him.  He was certain he would never tire of her.

As things grew more heated, Claire tried to roll him on top of her, but he resisted.

“No, a nighean.  Like this.”  He pulled her on top of him until the bulge in his underwear lined up with the furrow in hers.

“Jamie!” she laughed, pulling her hair back from her eyes.

“Makes me feel like a randy lad of fifteen all over again,” he teased.  “Ye make me sae hard, Claire.”

She gasped, and he watched in fascination as her pelvis shifted from a steady rock to a deliberate, searching circle.  There was a distinct stain of moisture on the pale blue fabric of her knickers, but he couldn’t say if it came from him or her.  Both of them, most likely.

“Sae hard,” he continued in a low murmur that shook with restraint, “tae see ye take what ye need from me.”

A high pitched whine indicated his partner was growing frustrated by the ongoing torture of their almost-contact.

“Please, Jamie,” she begged.

“What is it ye want, Sassenach?”

A flash of spitfire defiance met his teasing question.

“Your cock.”  The click and suck of her pretty mouth spilling such filth was nearly his undoing.  Perhaps it was for the best that she’d nearly drained him dry only eight hours before.

“Then ye better take it, aye?”

Faster than he could have imagined, Claire dragged his boxer-briefs down past his ankles and shed her own knickers.  With the sigh of a nomad reaching an oasis in the desert, she sunk down on his length in a single, long draught.  She was so wet it oozed down to where his balls where already drawn up tight against his base.   Clenching his eyes tight, he counted slowly to ten.

“Now what?” she breathed, seemingly as stunned as he felt.

“Now ye move until ye find the place where it all clicks,” he offered with a flex of his groin.

“What about you?”

“Christ, Sassenach, can ye not feel me throbbing like a bloody split lip inside of ye?  Don’t spare a thought for me.  This is for you.”

She let out a curious hum and twisted her hips this way and that, rolling him against her inner musculature.  A slight arch of her fluted spine.  A counter-clockwise roll.  A series of rhythmic pulses, and then she found exactly what she was looking for.

“Oh.”  It was the exclamation of a prophet, having glimpsed the divine.  That of a pilgrim, having reached the mountain top.  It wasn’t like him to mingle the sacred and the profane, but the look on Claire’s face was nothing short of holy rapture.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, clawing at the bed clothing to avoid grabbing her and pounding to his own rhythm.

“Oh!  Jamie.  Oh!”

“Tell me, Claire.  Tell me,” he begged, desperate for something, anything, to hold onto on the sheer cliff of madness that suddenly yawned before him.

“I’m...  I’m fucking you, Jamie,” she whispered, like it was a secret kept in a locked diary.

“Aye, ye are, a nighean.  Dinna stop.  Dinna stop, Claire.”

Wispy noises and half-formed words began to slip from her mouth.  These weren’t the orchestrated moans and cries of the night before, and they aroused him a hundredfold more.  If he had to guess, she wasn’t even aware she was making them.  

“Can’t...” she breathed after endless moments, neck straining as she titled her chin skywards, slim hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Aye, ye can,” he urged, though he doubted she heard him.  

What only minutes before had looked like budding ecstasy was quickly turning to frustration as her head began to thrash from side to side, whipping her hair across her cheeks.

“Can’tcan’tcan’t,” she chanted almost to herself.

She was teetering on the knife edge between heaven and hell, that much was clear.  Half mad with agonized bliss himself, he sought frantically through the atlas of her labyrinthine mind, searching up dark hallways and around blind corners for an answer that would help release her from her self-made snare.

“Take what ye need, Claire,” he panted, offering himself up to be consumed.  Then, gambling boldly, he added “Be a good girl an’ take it.”

He knew she’d heard him by her sudden stillness.  He held his breath.  There was a tremor that started where he was buried inside of her and spread across her surface like wind across a pond, given voice as a rapturous sigh when it reached her face.

She began to move again, a pinched look of determination on her beatific face.  A set of dainty fingers sank to where their flesh met, so wet that it burned, bursting full and yet cavernously empty, begging to be drowned.  He couldn’t look away, curling up on his spine for a better view, slack-jawed and mesmerized by her practiced movements.

“I’m...  I’m... oh my god, Jamie, I’m going to...”

He couldn’t have stopped himself then for all the money in the world.  Teeth set, eyes fixed on nothingness, he spun away from gravity just as she let out an otherworldly howl and bore down on him like a wolf ravishing a lamb.  Lava rushed down his veins and through his cock in bolts of heat, the whipcrack of release shimmering like electricity across his skin.

Claire folded down over his chest, her arms crossed over her head like she waiting for a bomb to drop from the sky.  She still rode him languidly, wrenching ever last drop of pleasure he had to give.  Her shoulders shook in some strange cocktail of gasping, laughing and sobbing.  At long last, she was still.  She had yet to meet his eyes, and he felt unaccountably nervous.

Pushing strands of hair away from where they had stuck to her face, she rested her chin in her stacked hands.  Her face was equal parts awestruck and adoring, and he allowed his tense muscles to relax.  Seemingly at a loss for words, she placed a lingering kiss on his sternum and rested her cheek once again on her hands, exhaling deeply.

“Sassenach?” he asked, once his breathing was once again under his control.

“Hmmm?”

“I ken ye were only kidding about the I.V., but...”

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Snip Snip

This is a one shot/sequel to @pengychan​ ‘s Mind the Gap that I had brewing in my head for sometime. 100% Pengy approved, I hope you enjoy some silliness.

WARNING: Has some language, sexual descriptions and deals with a M/M/F relationship. Also you should really read Pengy’s fic before you read mine.

----

-----

“Señor De la Cruz? The doctor will see you in about five minutes.”

“Never mind. I’m leaving.”

“No—nngh! No! Sit-… down!”

With a none to gentle shove and with great effort Héctor managed to pull Ernesto back down into the waiting room seat. The crashing of a heavy body and screeching of the plastic chair led to a disgruntled brow raise from the receptionist, but she just sighed and returned to her computer work. Ernesto grumbled to himself and crossed his arms with a glare.

“This was your idea, amigo.” Héctor whispered, not wanting to agitate the lady behind the counter even more.

“Exactly, which is why I should be allowed to change my mind.” Ernesto said, pouting as he looked down at his groin. “You don’t understand. I’ve spent my- no wait, every man has spent their whole lives protecting their manhood with gentle care and affection. It is a sense of pride, of thing of power. Potency! It’s what makes a man a man. To get a vasectomy goes against everything I believe in. It’s not in my nature.”

“Aw, Ernesto…” Héctor gripped Ernesto’s arm and squeezed comfortingly. “We’ve talked about this. You’ll still be a man. Imelda and I won’t think any less of you. In fact we’re both extremely proud of you for doing this.”

“Oh shut up.”

“How about this. Once you have the operation, get all healed up and are ready for some action, then…” Pausing to check to see if the receptionist was watching them. “Then you get to go to town on Imelda. No more condoms, just skin to skin. You thrusting deep inside of her while she screams your name, coming together in one rush of pure ecstasy.”

If it weren’t for his nerves and the flight-or-fight struggle going on inside of him now Ernesto would have been fully erect by Héctor’s words alone. Not an ideal situation to be in when one was in a urologist’s office and about to be fully nude from the waist down. Still his cheeks gave a slight flush and he swallowed thickly. “And, uh… what will you be doing while I’m with her?”

“Me?” Héctor chuckled huskily. “Why I’ll be right behind you. Just how you like it.”

Ernesto gasped softly. An Ernesto sandwich, his favorite. A sandwich was something Imelda had come up with that always depended on who was in the middle of their combined lovemaking, a silly little thing hardly compared to how fucking awesome it really was. Penetration and getting penetrated, two forms of stimulation all at once that left one howling in pleasure to the heavens and beyond. Ernesto’s face went full red at that and could already feel the tingle of arousal pooling in his stomach and creeping down into his groin. This was bad. He couldn’t get hard now. He had to think of something to cool down. Something to stop the progression of his-

“Alright, Señor. The doctor will see you now.”

‘That’ll do it.’ Ernesto thought as all thoughts of sex had switched back to nauseating terror.

“Ay, puta madre.” Ernesto whispered and stood up with Héctor. He started to actually tremble when they went through the door, Héctor’s hand on his shoulder failing to stop it. “Shit, shit, shit…”

“Uy, you’re so tense.” Héctor said, now a little worried. “You took your Valium pill almost an hour ago. It didn’t calm you down even a little bit?”

“Do I look calm?!” Ernesto whispered harshly.

No, Héctor had to admit. In the last half hour in the waiting room Ernesto had done anything but relax. He had stood up and sat down multiple times, paced the room, gotten a cup of stale coffee, and had picked up every single magazine that they had, read exactly one page of each, and had thrown it back down onto the table. Héctor believed that if he hadn’t had any Valium in his system right now then there would have been an Ernesto shaped hole busted through the wall of the receptionist office.

“Well they’re gonna give you something stronger once we’re in the room.”

“It won’t work. I know it won’t work.”

“How?”

“Héctor you know me.” Ernesto said, the trembling now reaching his voice. “I have a very strong constitution. Alcohol barely phases me, I need an extraordinary amount of caffeine to really wake up. That valium might as well have been an aspirin. I’m telling you there is nothing in the world that’ll calm me down at this point!”

----------------------

Apparently that nothing had been a Demerol shot to the ass by an elderly nurse.

Héctor cursed the person who had made up the stupid rule that no cell phones or cameras were to be allowed in the doctor’s office. For this was a golden moment that would soon exist only in his memories. And maybe even only his memories because Ernesto himself was just a touch out of it. There he was, laying on the reclined operating chair in a hospital gown with his bare waist covered by a thin paper sheet. Singing baby songs.

“Quince elefantes se balanceaban sobre la tela de una araaaañaaa…” Ernesto sang drowsily while he languidly twirled his finger in the air like a conductor’s baton.

He had slowly but surely diminished over the past half hour, starting with the sluggish shaking of his head as the drugs started to paint his brain with a slight fog. Then came the slow blinking and the monotone, droning humming. Then finally to this: awake sedation as the doctors called it. To Héctor though it was pure hilarity.

Suddenly Ernesto stopped singing and his brow furrowed in thought. “You know they say that a strand of a spider’s web can be tougher than steel.”

Héctor nodded. “I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere.”

“I don’t think a spider web can hold fifteen elephants, though.”

“No.”

“Then why would they make a song about something that is physically impossible?”

Héctor laughed. “It’s just a song to teach babies how to count, Ernesto.”

“Well it’s doing a very poor job about teaching them physics.” Ernesto huffed. “When we make it big we should do some kiddy songs, sí? Public domain stuff. That’s free money right there. Quince elefantes se balanceaban-.”

“Ernesto.” Héctor clapped a hand across Ernesto’s mouth, stifling a grin when it seemed to take a few seconds before the drugged man realized his song had been silenced. When Ernesto glared up at him he continued. “You’ve said quince elefantes five times now. You aren’t adding anymore elephants.”

This seemed to be news to Ernesto, and when Héctor removed his hand he actually looked downright embarrassed and ashamed. “Oh… I’m sorry.”

Yes, drugged Ernesto was hilarious alright. Also endearing and adorable.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.” Héctor said with a smile, and then bent over to give him a kiss on the forehead.

Ernesto hummed in contentment, a faint red on his cheeks as he suddenly looked bashful. “Someone could have come in when you did that, you know.”

“But they didn’t.”

“The room could have a security camera.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Oh, okay… Then…” Ernesto pouted and pointed to his forehead on the same spot. “Uno mas.”

Héctor happily obliged, and no sooner had he leant back from the kiss when the door opened. It was enough to make Héctor’s heart seize a little bit before forcing himself to relax. He hadn’t seen, it was alright. Ernesto just smiled wobbly and waved at the doctor coming in.

“Well, Señor de la Cruz!” the doctor said cheerfully as he set down his clipboard and began to slip on his gloves. “It’s been a little while now. How are we feeling after the Demerol shot?”

“Philosophical.” Ernesto proclaimed grandly, nearly smacking Héctor in the face as he threw out his hand in a dramatic pose. “Young Héctor and I have been discussing the fallacies of nursery rhymes and how they are negatively impacting a child’s learning structure.”

The doctor blinked at that, before giving Ernesto an indulgent smile. “Ohh, so I see. Yep, the medicine is in full effect.” Looking over at Héctor his smile seemed to falter a bit. “You know I usually see wives, girlfriends and even mothers come in to offer support, but rarely male friends.”

Héctor chuckled. “Well I think if his mamá realized that he would be cutting off any chance of her having grandchildren she would explode into a flood of tears. And besides, my wife and I would like to have more kids in the future, but I also might one day want to have a vasectomy. What better time to weigh my options than with my best friend, you know? See what it all entails.”

“I understand.” With a snap of his glove and turning on the overhead light to illuminate Ernesto’s crotch, he moved his tray of surgical equipment towards him. “All right then. Shall we begin?”

With a slight whimper Ernesto held out his hand for Héctor to hold. “You won’t let go at all, right?”

Seeing Ernesto so vulnerable and adorable melted Héctor’s heart, and he wished that Imelda had been there with him to witness Ernesto being so cute. He clutched Ernesto’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “I won’t. Don’t worry amigo, this is a perfectly normal procedure. Nothing to worry about at all.”

---------------------------

With Coco laid down for her afternoon nap, all the dogs and Pepita fed and watered, and no shoe orders to work on at the moment Imelda was enjoying some private time to herself curled onto the sofa, watching TV and drinking a nice cup of coffee. She knew this momentary bit of peace wouldn’t last.

Soon Héctor and Ernesto would be back from the doctor’s office and Imelda would be ready for them. She already had stocked up on acetaminophen and had several cold packs in the freezer for when they would be needed. She had even stocked up on Ernesto’s favorite soda, or at least one he tolerated when he wasn’t able to drink beer or other liquors.

She was very proud of Ernesto for bringing up the idea of getting a vasectomy for himself, and even prouder when he had set up the appointment all by himself and left for it this morning with Héctor. She knew he was nervous, heck she was nervous about it too, but she also knew that Ernesto was a man who once he set his mind on something there was no turning back. It was one of the things that she loved about him, even though it sometimes aggravated her.

Loved.

It was so weird thinking that now, even though she knew it was true. Although she was still deeply in love with Héctor and he was in love with her, the end of their sexual arrangement with Ernesto did not make their feelings for him disappear like she thought it would. In fact it only strengthened them. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.

And in the end the only thing it succeeded in doing was completely breaking Ernesto’s heart and left him wanting for almost a year. She was ashamed of herself but there was no way she could have foreseen what would come of the night she had slapped that strap-on in front of Ernesto. She had no idea that she would have two men holding a third of her heart while she held a third of theirs.

But it was fine now. For how long she didn’t know. But they would just take it one day at a time.

When she heard the door knock she blew out a sigh and set her coffee mug down. Dante and Ernesto’s four little chihuahuas immediately ran to the door in their room where they were currently shut up in, but thankfully for once they didn’t yip or bark. Just whined pitifully and slightly scratched the door. But they would have to wait until she got Ernesto set up on the couch and was safely protected from them.

Opening the door, she greeted them with a smile. “Well, how did it… go?...”

Ernesto was standing there, straight and tall as ever, an annoyed pout on his face while with one arm wrapped around him was Héctor. Trembling slightly and his face the color of putty, Héctor pointed a shaking finger to Imelda. “We… are stocking up on condoms. Either that or we’ll have a dozen kids. But I am never… going to get one of those… things ever! Never ever!”

Imelda was shocked. “Dios mio! What on Earth happened? Ernesto, did you get the vasectomy or not?”

Handing Imelda a pamphlet with his free hand, Ernesto nodded. “Yeah, I got it. Surgery was short and went without a hitch. Here’s the aftercare treatment plan he gave me. No, the real problem was Princess Héctor right here. Fainted like a dainty maid after the doctor held up my sperm tube for us to see. I know it has another name, but I forget and don’t care.”

“Fainted!” Imelda gasped. “Are you all right? Did you hit your head?”

“No, but he did throw up.” Ernesto smirked.

“Don’t remind me.” Héctor groaned, holding his stomach and struggling to support himself. “I’ve been nauseous the whole ride back. I need to see something cute. Something pure. I need to see my Coco. Coco, my love, Papá is coming!”

“Do not wake her up Héctor, I just put her down twenty minutes ago!” Imelda called out to Héctor’s retreating form. “And don’t let the dogs out of the other room either!”

“Ay, ay ay ay…”

At the sound of pain, Imelda’s attention turned to Ernesto. He was hunched slightly against the doorframe, his eyes closed tight and face pinched. “Oh, I’m so sorry Ernesto. Héctor distracted me. Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Just tender more than painful.” Ernesto grunted out. “Though it might hurt more after the anesthetic wears off. No, what really hurts is my hand. Héctor crushed the hell out of it during the whole surgery! I regret ever asking him to hold it in the first place! It’s not like my whole livelihood rests in the full use of my hands…”

“You’d still have your voice.” Imelda smiled. “And your so-called good looks.”

“Whatever… can you help me to the couch? I- nng!-… think I reached my limit helping Héctor.”

Ah, so he was in pain. Taking hold of Ernesto’s large arm she helped him slowly shuffle his way around the couch. “He was supposed to be helping you.” She chastised.

“Well he was pretty much useless afterwards.”

“You could have hurt yourself. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy objects.”

Ernesto smiled. “Well look on the bright side. If one of my cajones swells up like a grapefruit then he can pay for my medical bills.”

“Mmm hmm.” Imelda couldn’t help by snicker a little at that. “Okay, let’s sit you down. Okay, easy. Easy…”

Slowly Ernesto sat down on the couch, letting Imelda support him as he slowly eased his way down. With a pained grunt and then a sigh of relief he let his head fall back against the headrest and let his knees spread enough to the point where there was no pain, the sweatpants he was wearing lifting away from the sensitive area. He closed his eyes for a few moments, listening to Imelda bustling through the kitchen quietly, before a soft ahem made him open them again.

Imelda handed him a glass of water and two white pills, then placed a frozen ice pack next to him on the couch. Taking the pills without complaint and downing half the glass of water, he then took the ice pack and ever so gently molded it against his sore nether regions. Gasping softly at the cold at first he then sighed in relief as the coolness soothed the aches and pains, smiling gratefully up at Imelda. “Gracias.”

“De nada.” Imelda said before sitting down next to him, careful not to jostle him too much. “So, the vasectomy was a success?”

Ernesto nodded. “Yep, my cannon is now just a water gun: I may be shooting blanks, but I can still squirt you in the eye.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Oh am I?”

“Hmm…” Imelda leant against her arm that was resting on the back of the couch, relieved that the pain seemed to be slowly fading from Ernesto’s features. She smiled a little, watching him until he looked over her way with a question on his face. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Shifting a little uncomfortably, he gave her a smug look that used to infuriate her but now knew was just a mask to cover up his own insecurities. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I have done many things in my life you should be proud of.”

“Oh, of course.” Imelda tittered, then rested a hand on his arm. “No I’m proud that you did this. It would have been… hard to explain to others if I gave birth to a child that looked like you… I know you don’t necessarily like children and wouldn’t want one to begin with, but it was still a big decision to make. It couldn’t have been easy-”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to stay with you two… Whatever it takes…”

This startled Imelda. Ernesto’s face had darkened considerably when he had said that, but his eyes displayed the same misery she had seen during the year where Ernesto had been separated from them. Because of her. She had been acting on her motherly instincts when she had found out that she was pregnant with Coco, surely a threesome between her parents and her godfather would end badly for her once it would be discovered. And it had only been about sex at the beginning and one-upping each other in terms of sexual prowess when it came to Héctor.

But love had grown first in Ernesto. And then in her and Héctor. All the separation had done was make them all miserable. It was no one else’s concern what they did behind closed doors, and they would raise Coco and their potential children to have open minds and kind hearts.

Ernesto’s eyes cleared and his face reddened in embarrassment as he quickly tried to back pedal. “Oh, uh… Forget I said that. I guess I’m still a little high from the drugs the nurse gave me. They always make me a bit chatty.”

Leaning forward, she wove her fingers into Ernesto’s wavy hair and smiled. “Well I wouldn’t worry. Like it or not you’re stuck with us for life.” And then she gave him a kiss on the forehead, not knowing it was in the exact same spot that Héctor had given him hours earlier. Ernesto touched where she had kissed him, face even redder, and smiled back.

Standing up from the couch, Imelda handed him the TV remote and brushed herself down in a way to calm her own nerves. “Well all right then. Don’t leave that ice pack on for too long. Just do it twenty minutes every hour. Would you like a soda?”

“I’d prefer a beer.”

“Not with medicine still in your system.”

“I also want to see my dogs.”

“I’m sorry, do you want four bony and dense cannonballs jumping directly onto your crotch?”

“…No…”

“Didn’t think so. I’ll get you some soda and chips before I have to rescue Coco from her father. Just holler if you need anything else.”

Watching her walk into the kitchen Ernesto settled further into the couch with a grin. The ache in his groin was lessening, he was now and forever barren, Imelda was pampering him, and he’d seen Héctor make a total fool out of himself today.

“This is nice.” Ernesto said to himself as he turned on the TV. “I should have gotten a vasectomy years ago!”

-------------------------

“And this is from his concert last month in Guadalajara! Signed photographs! Isn’t he handsome? My precious boy! He told me that they were charging 1000 pesos for one foto and they were selling like crazy! But he sent me a stack so that I could share them with my friends. And so I was wondering if you would like one too, Maricarmen?”

Maricarmen stopped stacking a pyramid of oranges long enough to glance at the photograph in Señora Adela de la Cruz’s hands. Ernesto was handsome all right: Dressed in a fine royal blue mariachi suit with a wide brimmed sombrero, grinning with pure machismo and his name signed in gold ink. But the sight of him didn’t melt her insides like it would other girls who glanced at his rugged features. It never did, really. Now just looking at him made her… anxious.

“I think I’ll pass Adela, but gracias anyway.”

Adela’s smile faded and she had that pitying, patronizing look that so many other people gave her that made her so mad but unable to defend herself against. “Are you still upset because Ernesto left all those years ago?”

“…I’m not… upset, but-.”

“Because it was my fault really! Ernesto left because of what I and his father did to him, we betrayed his trust and hurt him deeply. But finally we’ve patched things up and everything is right as rain again. He even visits us again, my precious boy! I know that you and he were good friends-”

Friends…

“-but every time he visits you never come over. Are you upset with him? Are you upset that he’s…” Adela paused, looked around to see if anyone else was listening in on their conversation, and whispered none too quietly, “…gay?”

Shocked into a sputtering snort Maricarmen managed to knock down her carefully made orange pyramid all over her fruit stall and onto the ground. Rolling her eyes she bent down to pick up the fallen fruit, shaking her head. “No, I’m not upset about that.” She said, not at all wanting to explain to the older woman what bisexuality was.

“I know you had some feelings for him.”

“… No offense, Dona, but the only feelings I had for him were tolerance but mostly annoyance.”

“Then what is it?”

“Mamá!”

The uncomfortable conversation was finally over with when all of a sudden a piercing cry and quick steps caused both woman to turn at the sudden intruder. A cute little girl, no more than eleven years old, came running up to them with her pink backpack slung over one elbow and her other hand reaching out for Maricarmen. She practically collided with Maricarmen with enough force to garner an oof! from the thin woman and gave her a big hug. “I’m done with school Mamá! May I have some money?”

“And a cheery good afternoon to you too, Maricruz.” Maricarmen said drily.

Maricruz laughed sheepishly and let go, putting her backpack underneath the fruit stand for safekeeping. “Lo siento, Mamá. It’s just that Dolores and Primavera are going to the movies and they invited me. So can I have some money, por favooooor?!”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, mija, but you know things have been tight recently. I’m going to have to start doing some night shifts at the cantina so we can stay afloat and have enough spending money.”

Maricarmen stayed strong when her daughter’s face instantly dropped. She knew that Maricruz was used to not having enough money for things she wanted, but being alone at night while her mother worked was something she hated most. Maricarmen knew that, but it wasn’t like she had anybody else to help her with raising her daughter. Her parents had both died years ago, and she had no other relatives willing to help the poor little slut who had a bastard child.

Maybe I could ask… her father for help?

No. Out of the question. What a fine time to tell him he had a daughter after all these years. And after he had just made it big.

“Oh, okay…” Maricruz said dejectedly, before turning a wide winning smile to Adela. “Señora de la Cruz! How nice to see you. Could you spare a few pesos so I could go see a movie, por favor?”

“Maricruz!” her mother instantly scolded. “You do not just ask someone else for money immediately after I said-”

“Of course I can, niña!”

“ADELA!” Maricarmen cried. “I’m trying to show her she can’t always get what she wants!”

Adela waved her off as she reached for her wallet. “Oh, it’s just a little money and our movie theater isn’t expensive. Going to one movie isn’t going to spoil the girl, especially one as sweet as she is. Here you go, chiquita, here’s enough money for the movie and a few snacks as well.”

“Gracias Señora de la Cruz!” Maricruz said as she pocketed the money and gave the elderly woman a big hug. “You are the nicest woman in all of Santa Cecilia!”

“Oh ho ho, you charmer you.” Adela chortled and then handed her one of her signed photographs. “Here you go also. A signed photograph of my son Ernesto, soon to be the greatest singer in all of Mexico! I’m giving it to everyone for free.”

“Oh cool, gracias!” Maricruz said as she took it, clearly not as excited as she was when she got the money. “I think I’ll give this to my friend Paloma if you don’t mind. She’s a de la Cruzito for life, at least that’s what she told me.”

“Oh, and you’re not?” Adela asked confused.

Maricarmen shook her head and smirked. “No, she likes Héctor, don’t you mija?”

Maricruz sighed dramatically and clutched the photo to her chest. “Ahhh, he’s soooo dreamy!...”

“Really now!” Adela laughed in surprise. “I must admit I’m a little shocked. Don’t get me wrong Héctor is a fine boy and everything, but I guess I’m just used to everyone fawning over my Tito.”

Photograph still in hand, Maricruz just shrugged and smiled widely, her light brown eyes almost giving off a golden hue. “Sorry Señora. But Ernesto de la Cruz just isn’t my type!”

THE END

[seriouslyhooked]

The Bast Bad Idea (Part 2)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hello everyone! First and foremost, I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who have reached out about this story. The response was so far beyond what I was expecting, but I am thrilled to know that all of you enjoy a CS Doctor AU as much as I do. As someone who grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy, it’s essentially engrained in my DNA to love a medical romance, and this story is one I have wanted to write for a long time. I’ve had more than a month away from writing thanks to my busy schedule, but finally my muse came to play and add a bit of fluff to this sweet short story. Chapter two picks up with a critical question – what was Dr. Jones going to propose to Dr. Swan…? Without further ado, here is our answer. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

His eyes strayed down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from Killian. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across a summer sky. The instant attraction was breathtaking. It felt almost out of time and space.

“We could…” she continued, nudging him along and hoping he would elaborate. She wanted so badly for him to say aloud what she herself was wishing for.

Yet where Emma expected words, she was instead met with action, tantalizing and surprising, but inspiring something in her she never expected. Before she knew it, Emma was in Killian’s arms, aching for this moment, kissing him and knowing she was positively senseless. All that existed was this kiss, this touch. It was electrifying and invigorating, a blaze rushing through her blood stream that emboldened a part of her she’d always held back. Desire. That was what this was, and it was luscious and intoxicating.

Following his lead, Emma broke away from the kiss only to gasp for air as he crowded her body against the wall. The hardness of the cement blocks behind her, coupled with the heat and definition of Dr. Killian Jones was too much to handle. She arched into him, striving for contact, and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. The only problem was these damn clothes between them. Never in her life had she been irritated at this doctor’s coat she’d worked so hard to earn. For years she studied and poured everything she was into medicine, all for the authority this coat portrayed, but she practically purred when Killian stripped hers off and tossed it to the ground. Pushing his off of his body in return made her mind race. The muscles of his chest and arms were driving her to distraction. Then they flexed, and she swallowed harshly, earning a deep, decadent chuckle from this man who drove her crazy.

“See something you like, Swan?”

God that cockiness. They’d never had any kind of real conversation before now, but the way he smiled spoke volumes. His air and his persona were dripping in assuredness. Emma used to think that she hated so much confidence, but when it came to Killian, she craved it something fierce. It was somewhat infuriating, the way his eyes shone with mischief and conceit, but it was also hotter than anything she’d ever known. Still, part of her would rather die than admit that aloud. She had her pride, no matter how wrapped up in this moment she may be.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied, her voice sounding out with a shredded silkiness that she’d never heard before. “I haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“My apologies, love. Allow me to rectify the situation.”

Emma watched as this ridiculously attractive man purposefully teased her. With deft fingers he reached for the base of his scrub top, inching the material higher up his body. The trail of dark hair he revealed was evocative, but it held no candle the shape and tone of those abs underneath. Sweet Jesus, were those real? Emma bit back a groan at the sight, her lip pressed tight between her teeth. It took everything in her to keep her hands from reaching for him. She lay them flat on the wall behind her at her sides instead, but they balled into fists unconsciously as Killian eventually tossed the shirt away.

His black hair was mussed now, both from removing the scrubs with that always-present swagger, and from her fingers having run through it during their never-ending kisses. His eyes were dark navy blue, but still they shone with hunger and delight. His grin was a mix of charming and predatory, but instead of inciting a fight or flight response, Emma only wanted to surrender. This was a man who knew he was in complete control. He had hooked her, totally and beyond any shadow of doubt, and all she wanted was for him to have his way with her.

The curses he whispered while helping her shed her own scrubs were like prayers on high, a sweet song to her ears that only added to his allure. Killian’s eyes never strayed from her, but his reactions were so open and transparent. He hid nothing, allowing her a glimpse to the world inside, and it caused the power between them to shift. If Emma was being hunted, then she was also hunting in return, and Killian seemed ready to be caught.

“Emma, I -,”

His voice faded out, and she struggled to hear him. Instead, there was a blaring alarm. Was this a fire drill? Why had the light in the room gone hazy? Still, Emma heard herself whisper his name.

“Killian?”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screech of the sharp, incessant chiming by her ears wrenched Emma’s eyes open, and immediately she groaned in disappointment. All of that – every exquisite moment – was a dream. Ugh, of course it was! Because this was her life now: fantasizing about a hot trauma surgeon ceaselessly and wishing that her memories of him were more than mere imagination.  

“Damn it,” she muttered aloud, covering her eyes with her hand in frustration. With her vision blocked, Emma was more aware of the feeling that her body was wrapped up in her sheets. She’d obviously been tossing and turning through the night, restless in ways she rarely was before seeing Doctor Jones. These freaking dreams just felt so real, and they’d only gotten worse since officially meeting him.

That was three days ago now, but things had been chaotic in the meantime. The level four trauma that came in when they’d been formally introduced totally swamped the ER. Emma was called down for consult on multiple patients, needing to give life and death assessments and treatment plans for half a dozen people. While down there, Emma had the chance to see David and Killian in action. She was struck, even in the grips of adrenaline, by their cohesion and capability. They were cool and collected, battling odds that were dire to say the least, but they prevailed. Emma had worked for years to hone her craft, to heighten her skills, and to meet the moments of medicine that her work provided. But the energy in the ER had shifted, and she felt her own abilities elevated by the camaraderie and collectiveness of everyone in the hospital.

That shared experience only lasted a short while, for after initial inspections and emergency consults, Emma was quickly rerouted to the surgical wing. For 16 hours straight she worked to save the lives of four people, and through something that felt like magic, or maybe divine intervention, she was successful each and every time. That good fortune held, not only for her, but for all of her colleagues as well. The hospital had managed something next to impossible – they had saved every victim of the horrible accident, but the work had been backbreaking. When she’d finally scrubbed out of her last procedure, Emma admitted defeat, heading home and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Her next shift was markedly slower, and Emma had the chance to see the progress of her post-op patients, and to connect with the others in her unit. It was critically important that the doctors, nurses, admins, tech teams, and other staff were all feeling strong and secure. Patients needed everyone working as a collective whole, and Emma took it upon herself to monitor that. It was unusual for a Doctor, especially one who wasn’t overseeing daily operations, but it mattered to Emma. Saving lives took so much more than her medical degree and steady hands. She needed each and every person in the cardiac wing to be successful, and she valued every one of them for what they brought to the team.

Unfortunately, while Emma’s day was slower and steadier, there was also a favorite element now lacking. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d willingly joined Ruby on the daily trip to the coffee cart. Actually, she’d been the one to page Ruby this time, earning more than a bit of teasing from her best friend, but Killian and David never showed. Only later, when Emma was at the tail end of her workday and helping with a consult in the ER, did she learn why.

“He was here for sixty-eight straight hours,” David said bluntly, after having confirmed his diagnosis for a patient presenting with a blood circulation issue.

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused for a moment at David’s turn of topic.

“Killian,” David said, prompting Emma’s face to heat. Here she was, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious that she was looking for a man she hardly knew beyond imaginings, but David had seen through her in a matter of moments.

“Oh, um – that’s, well that’s… crazy. Sixty-eight hours?” That beat even her record, and she’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion.

“Mhmm. We were on the end of a twelve-hour shift when the call came in and he stayed, until every last patient in the trauma department was seen and attended to. I left for eight hours and was dead to the world the entire time. Still felt laggy when coming back. Meanwhile, he caught maybe four hours sleep total interspersed between rounds, crashing in on call rooms. You’d never know though. He was totally unfazed. Brilliant as ever. It was like being back in the field again.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, amazed at that. She was no stranger to long shifts, but to work that hard for that long was a herculean feat. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised to hear Killian had pulled it off.

“Yup. I had to force him to go back to his hotel. Actually, Regina had to. I tried, but until the Chief said something, he wouldn’t budge. She had to spew all sorts of protocol and legal jargon at him to get him to go. Even then, I could tell he was debating whether to stay or not.”

“He has a real connection with his patients,” Emma commented, vocalizing a fact she’d ascertained by watching him in action. Killian cared deeply, and while his main job may be all about stemming the flow of crisis, and bouncing around from one case to the next just to keep people holding on, he kept track of all those he helped, and invested in each patient no matter what.

“Maybe. I think it had more to do with the fact that it was only eight am and you wouldn’t be at the coffee stand yet.”

Before Emma could respond, David was paged for something else. He’d left her with a polite goodbye, but also a knowing smile. Another time, Emma might have tried to fake that she wasn’t interested or deny that there was something between her and Killian, but instead she was too busy fixating on what she’d just heard. Emma carried David’s assessment around with her for the rest of the day, well after leaving the hospital and heading home. She spent the night wondering if what David said was true. Was Killian as interested in her as she was in him?

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

“We could what?” she whispered, getting out of her car, heading inside to her next shift. “What was he going to ask me?”

“Did you say something, Emma?”

Emma jumped at the unexpected question, senses on high alert as she stood before the elevator in the parking garage. When she found Mary Margaret only a few feet from her, and clearly the orator of the previous question, Emma relaxed slightly. She tried her best not to show her embarrassment, but it was difficult. Now she was talking to herself? Jeez, she was truly losing it at this point.

“Oh, uh, nothing. How are you today?” she asked her friend. Mary Margaret smiled widely. Her excitement was palpable, filling up the elevator car as the two of them stepped inside.

“I’m great! Just eager to get to work.”

“Any interesting cases on the schedule?”

“Oh, uh, sure, there’s a few, I guess. Well really most of my day is going to be in consult with the Chief’s office.”

“Wait a second, you have to spend a prolonged period of time with the Evil Queen and you are smiling? Who are you and what have you done with Mary Margaret?” Her friend now looked flustered, clearly trying to grasp at an explanation and then it dawned on Emma. “This is about David isn’t it?”

“David?” Mary Margaret asked, her pitch higher than it had been just moments ago. Emma laughed at her friend’s terrible play acting. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t about David Nolan was a lost cause. Eventually Mary Margaret realized that, and she sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she exhaled. “Okay, yes, I am seeing Dr. Nolan today.”

“Let me guess, he’s also going to be at the admin meetings.”

“They’re about coordinating long term therapies better with our emergency protocols and treatments. So yes, the head of the ER is likely to make an appearance.”

“I see,” Emma said, biting back a smirk so as not to make Mary Margaret too uncomfortable. In the end though her curiosity won out, and she had to ask. “So, any movement there?”

“Movement?”

“Has he asked you out yet?”

“Not exactly.” Emma waited for her friend to explain herself. Mary Margaret held off for a few seconds before blurting out the truth. “I actually asked him.”

“Really?” Emma was shocked. Not because she thought any less of Mary Margaret. In fact, quite the opposite. She was proud of Mary Margaret for going for what she wanted. She just had never ever seen Mary Margaret step outside of a comfort zone like that, and certainly not with a hospital colleague. “Good for you. And he obviously said yes.”

“Why is it obvious?” Emma rolled her eyes, but in a teasing way.

“Come on, you know you two were making heart eyes at each other the other day. There was a definite spark. We all saw it.”

“I’m honestly surprised you noticed since you had your own, what did you just call them? ‘Heart eyes’? Well, you definitely had heart eyes for a certain trauma surgeon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush, and what perfect timing, because the elevator doors had just opened to the lobby. They exited the quiet of the elevator to a hustle and bustle found only at a top tier hospital. It felt like a swarm of people, buzzing every which way, on their own individual paths.

“David and I going to dinner tomorrow,” Mary Margaret said quietly, looking around and finding no eavesdropping colleagues. When the coast was clear, she smiled, looking back at Emma with excitement all over her face. “That’s all I know though. I may have asked him out, but he made it very clear he had plans for how our first date was going to be.”

“I have a good feeling about this guy,” Emma said, referring to David. She had known Mary Margaret for a long time, and she knew how much her friend wished for a real and solid love in her life. Few people desired and deserved that kind of connection like Mary Margaret, and for Emma, there was a real satisfaction in seeing her friend’s instant connection with a stand-up man. Based on past experience, there weren’t too many of those to go around.

“Which one?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma stammered something non-committal out, causing her friend to laugh once more. “And that right there is all the answer I need. See you later, Emma. Oh, and when you see Killian again, just go for it. Believe me, it’s so much better than waiting and wondering.”

With that, Mary Margaret headed towards the wing of the hospital where the Chief and her admins worked. At the same time, Emma turned her attention to the cardiac unit.  She had a ways to go to get there, but while still in the main entrance of the hospital she was stopped short by a gruff, and somewhat uncertain voice.

“Excuse me, Doctor Swan?”

“Yes?” Emma replied, looking to the young man who approached her. Taking in his features, she realized she knew him peripherally. He was one of the new interns cycling through the hospital this year, but he hadn’t worked in the cardio wing or in a surgical capacity. Taking in his lanyard, which bore his ID card over plain clothes, she saw he was an ER intern. Interesting. “Can I help you?”

“This is for you.” The young man offered her a paper box. Emma accepted, thoroughly confused before the intern elaborated. “Curtesy of Doctor Jones.”

“Oh,” Emma said, suddenly incredibly interested. Unable to resist, she opened the box. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she found made her smile widely. “These are flowers. Paper flowers.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not entirely sure of the significance, but Doctor Jones told me there is a note inside as well. He wanted me to be sure to mention that.”

Emma was more than excited to read what this astonishing man would write to her, but something the intern said reminded her of the awkwardness of this situation. Had Killian used his authority over the interns to have this delivered? It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Many of the residents and attendings here saw interns as the low rungs on the ladder. They were meant to be learning and training, but often they were sent on coffee runs and foolish errands. Emma never believed in that though. She found it unkind and unnecessary.

“To be honest, it was hard to convince Doctor Jones to let me bring these,” the intern said, perplexing Emma further while eerily reading her mind. “I had to offer about a half dozen times. My shift was ending, you see, and I’ve been looking for a way to thank Doctor Jones since he got here. You know he created extra hours in the ER skills lab? He’s working with first years too. We get very little access usually, because the third years are prepping for exams and stuff, but he convinced Doctor Nolan to extend the hours. He’s even hosting classes himself. Cool right?”

“Very cool,” Emma said with a nod, and another smile. She breathed out a sigh of relief, genuinely happy to realize this man she’d been thinking of was good to others. It also made accepting this thoughtful gift so much easier.

From there, Caleb said goodbye, heading out for whatever interns did with down time these days. Oh, who was she kidding? Sleeping. That’s what she’d done, and no doubt that was what all interns still wanted most of all. Emma though, felt more awake now than she had in a long while. She found a quiet corner in one of the corridors leading to the cardio unit and took a seat, opening the box away from prying eyes.

Inside the box there were six different types of what looked like origami flowers. They were beautiful and delicate, and she wondered where he could have bought them. Only when she opened the note did she realize the truth.

Emma,

As you know, I’ve been away for quite a while, out in the field in a completely different world. In the desert there’s not really that much to do, except survive and keep as many of your people as well as you can. The downtime is long and hot and quiet. I picked up these tricks from a fellow soldier. It kept my hands at the ready and my mind clear, and there’s an honest beauty in them that reminds me of you. 

Truth be told, there’s a flower for each time I’ve tried to catch you at the coffee cart since our meeting. Clearly my missions have been unsuccessful, so this calls for a change in tactics…

Emma smiled at the thoughtfulness and felt the pull of butterflies low in her chest.  He thought she was beautiful, and he said it without fear. Had a man ever said so much? Had it ever mattered? Certainly not like it did now. Reading on, Emma laughed at the lightheartedness of the note and the bit of cheeky humor that accompanied it. His easygoing candor and transparency enchanted her, drawing her in even more than she already was. Then she memorized the time and place he suggested that they meet at the bottom of the page, knowing nothing and no one was going to keep her from this meeting.

Only after reading through his handwritten thoughts three or four times did she realize an added layer of perfection: these flowers weren’t just handmade and crafted with intention. They were also safe for her to take with her to her ward of the hospital. Being in and out of the ICU and cardiac units, Emma couldn’t bring real flowers into her offices without putting some patients at risk, but she could have these. From within the box she selected a bright yellow blossom, beautiful and intricate and folded to perfection. Wordlessly she tucked it away in her pocket. The others were deposited for safe keeping in her office as soon as she arrived back in the East Wing, and displayed on her windowsill, brightening the space.

The hours between the start of her shift and the time she was meant to meet Killian passed by slowly. Her rounds usually distracted her, but not today. While she still gave all due attention to her patients, Emma had that sense in the back of her mind that this afternoon would bring so much more to the forefront. The promise of seeing him again kept her heart pattering faster than it should be, and by the time the clock was minutes from their meeting, she was positively bursting with anticipation.

“Okay, usually I would give you a hard time and pretend to tag along, but even I can’t mess with a smile like that.” Ruby’s words snapped Emma’s focus back to the hallway where she was standing, pretending to read a chart. As she looked to her friend, however, she would never be able to recall what was on the screen in front of her. Ruby grinned when their eyes met. “He gave you the flowers, didn’t he?”

“You knew?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“Yup. Ran into him at the cart a couple of times. He was really starting to piss off the kiosk guy with all his loitering. Had to give him a hundred dollars just to shut him up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t let him. I told Boris to shut it unless he wanted a hospital wide nurses strike. Guy knows better than to cross me. He just acts tough for clout.” Emma laughed, knowing her friend truly ran this place in most ways. But then the apprehension of the moment caught up to her again, and Emma’s brow furrowed in worry. “Oh no you don’t. No doubting this, Ems. I’ve vetted this guy. Run all the background, checked all the sources. He’s a good one, a one in a million, needle in a haystack, diamond in the rough kind of man. And, to top it all off, he’s crazy about you.”

“You think?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“I know, but that’s all I’m saying. Let Killian speak for himself, okay? And, even though it’s hard, try and trust this.”

“I think I already do,” Emma whispered. “Trust him, I mean. But that’s crazy, right?”

“Love tends to be that way.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma,” her friend parroted, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Just go for it. Go for it and see for yourself.”

With a nod, and the validation that she needed to hear from a trusted friend, Emma headed off. It felt natural and expected to make her way towards the center of the hospital once more. This time though, she passed the coffee cart, with only a fleeting glance. Killian wasn’t meeting her there today. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were meeting. She followed the directions he’d given her, up a few more flights of stairs and through the wing with pediatric patients and newborns. She had been here many times before, for consults and comfort. It was a draw here in the hospital – the cuteness of babies just starting their journeys in the new world. Emma looked at them today, noticing the vibrancy inside the nursery, but didn’t linger. Instead, she followed the last of the route that Killian had given her and ended up somewhere she’d never been before. A place that must have just finished being renovated.

“Wow,” Emma whispered, walking into the sunlight on the open terrace.

With the glass surroundings and the plant life everywhere, this place was beautiful. There were pergolas and hanging vines, topiaries and flowering plants, daffodils and tulips, all breathing in the spring. It felt like a park, floating in the air, with the sounds of the city barely audible below. Emma could imagine the kids and the families who would come here someday. She hoped it would be a space for them to find some peace and happiness while staying in this unfamiliar and often stressful place. Hospitals were rarely any fun for patients, necessary as they may be, but this space was beautiful enough to distract from that.

“You made it, love.” The deep rumble of that familiar voice sent a shiver through Emma’s whole body. She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Killian, leaning against the stone façade of the building behind them. In his hands were two coffees, and as he moved towards her, he offered her one with a boyish smile. “This is for you. Didn’t want you missing a routine caffeine fix for my sake.”

“Thank you,” Emma said automatically, feeling his fingers brush across hers, sending a zing of awareness through her. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she knew he felt it too. Suddenly she had no want or need for this coffee. She cleared her throat slightly before continuing on. “Where exactly are we? And how, might I ask, does the new guy know about it before I do?”

“It’s the Hubbard Family Wellness Gardens, gifted by one of the hospital’s most loyal benefactors” he said, full of knowledge. Emma was shocked that he actually knew what this place would be but then he smiled, gesturing to the plaque bearing that information. She bit back a laugh. “And as for how I found it, that’s easy. I never leave well enough alone, and I’m curious by nature. I’ve been nearly everywhere in the hospital now, but this place seemed the best for what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Emma asked, her voice hitching up as she repeated the words.

“Aye,” Killian murmured, his tone dipping sensually low. She swallowed harshly as he entered into her space, and he tracked the motion. She felt the heat of his closeness, and caught his scent in the air, clean, and male, and with a hint of spice.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he said, close enough to kiss her. God, how she wished he would kiss her. Emma vocalized her first thought.

“Really? I did. Like a lot.”

His smirk told her she’d said that aloud even though she never meant to, but before she could react, he took hold of her cup once more.

“I meant these,” he gestured to the coffee in her hand. Oh, right. “May I, love?”

Emma nodded, and shakily let go of the cup she forgot she was holding. With deft hands, Killian  placed their drinks back on a table beside them with far more poise than she could muster at the moment. When that was done, he stepped towards her again, looking at her with a glint in his blue eyes that made her heart skip. His hands came to her body, one to her hip, the other to cup her cheek. The rightness washed over her, and so did the realization that none of her dreams could actually prepare her for real intimacy with Killian Jones.

“Last time we spoke I intended to ask you something. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from wanting this so badly. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and he caught the action, letting out a groan that mixed pain with passion and pleasure. Then he cursed, a totally British ‘bloody hell’ falling past his lips before dipping his mouth to hers and giving them both a taste of temptation.

The kiss was… beyond incredible, but Emma was so deep in it she had no ability to comprehend anything at all. She was consumed with the moment, arching against Killian, feeling the silky strands of his dark hair and the scruff of his beard. His kiss was assured and passionate, dominant and indulgent all at once. She succumbed to the sensations, and let the rightness surge within her, not caring at all that they were outside or at work or that they’d just met. Instinct took over, and her gut, which Emma had always trusted, was telling her that this man was even more than she imagined, and someone she should choose to let in.

Pulling back from the kiss, Emma and Killian stayed close, and Emma took stock of all the places they were touching. His hold on her was firm but caring, like she was precious, and he wouldn’t let her slip away. In his eyes she saw so much emotion, and again she was struck by his transparency and trust. He wasn’t shying away from her or the moment. He was in the depths of desire with her, and their kiss, that perfect, sexy as all hell kiss, had left him tongue tied. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but assuring, and Emma felt secure here, safe even, while also being filled with more unknown wonder than she’d ever been before. Like someone at the start of a glorious adventure, she took a next step born of passion and hope.

“I’m off at six tonight… so, you want to pick me up at seven thirty?” she asked, referencing a date he hadn’t actually asked her out on. She feigned ignorance even though she could read him like a book. “Unless you were going to ask me something else…”

His hold on her tightened, and he shook his head immediately. She was right. He wanted a date – and she saw no reason to wait when she wanted one just as badly. She grinned at him, loving how the tables had turned. This time he swallowed harshly, and she was oh so tempted to kiss him again and see if he’d stay shy or rise to her challenge.

“It’s a date, Swan,” he said dazedly. 

Emma hummed out her agreement, going in for one last fleeting kiss. But where she meant to only tease, he took the reins again, kissing her senseless and leaving her breathless when they finally broke apart. Only when her pager beeped with an incoming call did they end their inevitable interlude, and as they did, Emma felt a pang of longing, wishing this moment could last so much longer than this.

“Tonight, love,” he whispered, running his thumb against her lips. “Far away as it may seem, I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Good,” she replied, nipping his thumb ever so softly, and bringing the fire back in his eyes, before taking a step back. And with that, and just enough presence of mind to grab her coffee, Emma headed off, back through the hospital to the work that awaited her, knowing she could and would get through anything today for the promise of tonight.

Post-Note: Ah!! Finally!! I got the words on the page!! I did the thing!! I wrote the story!! And honestly, it’s such a relief. It felt, at some points, like I may never get this chapter written, but finally today it came. I know many of you were waiting, and I cherished every comment and review and message along the way. I hope all of you who wrote me, and those who read along with chapter one, all enjoy this installation. I write these stories for me and to brighten my world ever so slightly, but also in the hopes that they’ll spark joy for others too. In a time like this, a little joy goes an awful long way. Anyway, thank you all for reading, sending you the best, and hope you’ll join me next time for the final chapter of this CS AU! xE

[theolivebird]

I don't think any amount of experience will take away the anxiety of going into surgery. Even though this is my second C-section, I still searched for a word or an image to calm myself. This time round, I found the words 'trust' and 'faith'. As I entered the operating theatre, I tried to take deep breaths underneath my surgical mask. The anaesthetist then inserted an IV drip into my left hand, albeit imperfectly. He kept reassuring me that if the drip didn't look right later, he'd insert another one. That wasn't what I wanted to deal with before having an abdominal surgery. Then, I had to curl my knees to my chest so he could perform a spinal block. It wasn't easy to curl up with my big belly so the nurses had to hold me in position. It was so nerve-wrecking that I held onto the skinny elbow of a nurse - that bit of human touch helped. When it was completed, I began to feel numbness in my legs and my gynaecologist came in to begin the C-section. I could feel the tugs on my tummy as he cut me open layer by layer. It felt like a long time. At this point, I was also shaking (a common side effect of the anaesthesia). In order to calm down, I started humming a familiar tune to myself - Room on the Broom song (what Oli and I have been watching on YouTube recently). Then, my husband came in and after some time, the baby was delivered. Based on her cry, it seemed like there was fluid in her mouth. The nurse used a bit of suction and soon baby was placed on me for a photo or two. I was relieved to see my baby and glad to know that half of the ordeal was over. While my doctor took a long time to stitch me back up, the anaesthetist offered me sedative to give me a nap. He joked that this part of the procedure was boring and perhaps a nap would be preferred. After a while, I caved in and said okay to a short nap. He gave me something but it didn't knock me out. Soon, I was wheeled back to the recovery room. On this first day of my child's birth, I was tired but couldn't sleep. The adrenaline kept me awake and I even handled some work matters (crazy, I know). On the second day, I was completely exhausted and a work matter in the evening got me tearing. I was angry and frustrated that I had to deal with a complaint while nursing my newborn. After the phone call, I texted the client and told her I had just delivered my child. I hoped she felt guilty for disregarding my maternity leave. This morning, I had my IV drip, urine catheter and pressure bandage removed. I felt closer to normal and my energy level seemed to be improving. But my breasts have started to engorge as baby isn't nursing very well yet. Ugh, breastfeeding woes again. I can't wait to go home tomorrow to see my ray of sunshine - Oli. These few days, my husband has been a quiet and sleepy source of presence by my bedside. He bought snacks and helped a little here and there. What's better was him doing the bedtime routine with Oli. My absence has allowed them to bond and helped him gain some ground in fulfilling his duties as a father.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 19 - THE KING’S GAMBIT

Good evening all. So now that we are all caught up with the previous two chapters, I am posting the most recent chapter called The King’s Gambit. This one also is NSFW. It will be the last of this type for a while, since are many other things these two babies need to do, like go back to work. 

Why did this chapter take so long? I don’t know. All I know is I couldn’t get it right. So thank you to @scubalass​ who kept on me until it become something worth posting.

I appreciate any thoughts, comments, suggestions, recommendations that anyone may have. Any questions anyone has fire away.

So without any further delay, I give to you, for better or worse:

Edinburgh to Scotland

Chapter 19

The King’s Gambit

The pale cold light from a winter sun came through the bedroom window. It was the type of light that illuminated but did not lend warmth. It was, however, warm and cozy in bed next to Claire. Jamie didn’t want to get up by a long shot, but the reality of life would intrude today and there was no sense in postponing it.

He quietly got up rummaging through a drawer finding an old pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt; he dressed quickly turned and looked at Claire sleeping.

Her hair was a wild mess, like a dandelion puff that exploded. She’ll hate it, he thought. He, on the other hand, rather liked it as he thought it suited her, ferocious and untamed. Maybe that was what he loved about her. She reminded him of the Highlands, fierce, unrestrained, yet warm, loving, and tender as a spring flower. And beautiful. He gently brought the blanket up to cover her properly and silently left her to her slumber.

Claire turned onto her side searching for Jamie only finding a cold empty bed. Cracking one eye open she scoured the room for any sign of her Scot. To her dismay, he was nowhere to be found. She wiggled her bum intending to burrow down into the inviting bed for a few more minutes of sleep when the enticing smell of fresh coffee wafted under her nose pulling at her like a doomed sailor to a siren’s song.

Standing up, Claire smiled at the pleasant soreness between her legs remembering their amorous activities of last night and earlier this morning. Thinking she would find him in the kitchen, she wrapped her robe around herself and padded off in search of her Scot and coffee. 

She found him seated at the island, a coffee mug in hand staring intently at his laptop. Leaning over, Claire wrapped her arms around him resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Good morning,” she murmured, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek.

Jamie took her hand lovingly kissing her palm, “Ye slept well then, lass?” he inquired. 

“Very well. Better than I have in a long time,” Claire replied sounding pleased.

She turned her head to observe the screen realizing he had logged in to the hospital’s portal to review their upcoming OR schedule.

“I see you’re busy checking our calendar.”

“Aye, I have. There’s a CABG followed by a mitral valve repair/replacement as soon as we get back. The remainder of the week is just as busy.” He was crestfallen at not being able to help her. “Ye ken I canna help ye. So I was looking tae see who was free.”

Claire poured a cup of coffee and sat next to Jamie to review the surgical roster. “Look, I think Pound is free all week. He’s getting ready to graduate and could use more hands-on time. And he is quite good. I trust him. I think we have our problem solved,” Claire said as she sipped her coffee. “Do you think you could cover my other duties while I’m operating? That should ease the burden on the two of us.”

“I can. Now I just need to tell the Chief,” Jamie rolled his eyes and grimaced with the prospect of having this conversation with the pompous old windbag.

“Then I shall leave you to it,” Claire grabbed her cup and stood as if to leave wanting to give Jamie some privacy for the phone call.

“No, I dinna want ye to leave,” he reached out grasping her hand.  It was strange how he had come to rely on her in such a short time. Claire became his pillar, his strength. 

“I dinna like the man. He may be Chief but…there is just something about him that’s no’ right.”

She looked at him with sympathy. “I know what you mean. I have thought him to be rather Janus-faced, friendly and kind but insincere and unscrupulous. I have heard rumors about how he treats other surgeons,” provoking a shiver to run down her spine. “But, he likes you. I don’t think there should be much of a problem.”

“Aye, that's what I fear. “I dinna like his attentions,” he huffed. 

“You are very talented and a much better surgeon than he is. He knows it and I have a suspicion he doesn’t like it.”

Jamie blushed at her praise. That kind of praise coming from Claire Beauchamp meant something.

Tightening his grip on her hand, he pulled Claire closer. He looked up at her beseechingly. “Besides, mo nighean donn, this affects you as well. We have been partners long before we became…more.”

He didn’t know how to define what they are. Boyfriend and girlfriend? That sounds rather like high school. Lovers? That they were. But it did not encompass everything. Companions, partners? That still did not cover what their relationship was. He was at a loss to explain what their relationship should be called. What would explain it enough without demeaning its significance? Did it really matter how they referred to each other? She is the love of his life. And that’s what mattered. 

“Ye need to be part of the discussion and the solution.” He looked at her encouraging her to stay. 

“You’re right, Jamie. We need to face things together.”

“Aye, there’s the two of us now,” he smiled with the thought. Whatever they faced they would present a united front. 

Taking a deep breath, Jamie placed the call. 

“Good day to ye Ainsley. Dr. Fraser here, would the Chief be available?” Jamie inquired almost hoping that he was not. Get it over with Fraser. If not now then it will be later. Jamie heaved a large sigh.

“Aye, Dr. Fraser. Let me connect you.”

Soft nondescript music played as he waited for his boss to pick up the line. He puffed out his cheeks and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling with impatience, anxious to get the call over with.

“Jaamie,” the honeyed voice drawled. “How is my favorite surgeon? Hum? Ready to come back with all these new techniques that will improve our department?” The avarice was apparent in his voice. His greed extended not only to money, but to position, fame, but most of all power.

“Weel, sir that’s the reason for my call. I had a wee accident while in Boston injuring my right hand and I’ll no’ be able to operate for a few weeks.”

Claire placed her hand on Jamie’s thigh giving it a gentle squeeze in support.

“You what!?” The Chief sputtered. “Where was Beauchamp while all of this was going on??” He muttered under his breath, but obviously not low enough not to be heard, “Damn the woman! You think she could control one man.”

Claire’s hand went to cover her mouth to smother her laughter. She expected nothing better from him. “Utter arse!”

Jamie scowled at her, for laughing. Claire shrugged her shoulders, leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“She was no’ there when the accident happened. I should be fine in a few weeks. In the meantime, Dr. Beauchamp and I have assessed the situation and devised a plan that will allow for our caseload tae go on unimpeded. I believe that Dr. Elias Pound is available to assist Dr. Beauchamp with the surgeries while I assume the teaching, rounding, and clinic duties. We believe this is a satisfactory solution.”

“It seems you two have everything sorted. I can always count on the two of you to rise to the occasion.” There was a brief pause in the conversation accompanied by some soft muttering from Sandringham’s end. “Jamie, I want you to see our hand surgeon, Dr. Hildegarde de Gascogne to manage your care. As you are aware, she is world-renowned and I want only the best for you, my lad.  You are a very valuable asset to our department, ” he wheezed. ”Ainsley will call you with an appointment.”  Sandringham’s feigned attempt at concern was easily heard in his voice as it was hollow lacking sincerity for Jamie’s well being.

His tone became unctuous and slick, “Are you in much pain, dear boy? Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Ah, no. Thank ye, Dr. Sandringham. Dr. Beauchamp and I have this well under control. I’ll be expecting Ainsley’s call.” 

“Very well then. Oh, and Dr. Fraser do be more careful, hmm?”

“Aye, sir. Good day tae ye.” He exhaled heavily now feeling able to draw a deep breath.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Claire said with a smirk.

“Easy for you tae say. Ye dinna have tae speak tae the man.”

“No, I didn’t. But, he thinks I should have prevented you from injuring yourself.” Little did Jamie know that Claire did blame herself for his broken fingers and that he re-injured his hand a second time.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. I promised ye I would beat Frank into a pudding if I ever saw him. ‘Tis an honor tae care for ye, protect ye.”

She looked up at him as if he were her knight in shining armor, “I don't know if I ever thanked you for coming to my rescue that night, but thank you.”

Claire sat on his lap snuggling up against him resting her head in the crook of his neck. Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist bringing her closer to him. She relaxed into him feeling safe and loved in his strong arms. Her fingers wound their way through his ginger curls. His hair had grown and was longer than he usually wore it.  “I like your hair a little longer, especially when it curls. I don’t want you to cut it.” 

“As ye wish mo leannan.”

They sat enjoying the peace between them listening to each other's breath.

Jamie leaned down placing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Do ye ken how much I like to hold ye?”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” sighed Claire.

“I do it because I like the nearness of ye.”  He smiled at her shyly as if he were going to impart some great secret. ”There is a hole here in my chest,” he said letting one hand go from around her waist and pointing to his heart. “’Tis been there my whole life. I dinna ken what it was or what caused it, this hollowness there. Now that I found ye I kent what ‘tis. ’Tis a chasm that only ye can fill, Claire. Ye are the missing piece of my heart. And when I hold ye close tae me, ‘tis no’ empty. It doesna hurt anymore when yer near me.”

She kissed his eyelids, the tip of his nose, cheekbones, finally finding his mouth. She kissed him lightly. Growing bolder, she allowed her tongue to trace his lush sensual lips savoring the taste of him. 

Jamie groaned deeply. “Claire,” he whispered her name reverently as if saying a prayer. He looked at her as if she was the embodiment of all that is holy. As if she was sent to him by the gods for him to cherish and love.

Leaning forward her mouth pressed near the tender lobe of his ear as she breathed, “Do you want me, Jamie?”

“Ye dinna ken what ye do tae me mo chridhe. How am I tae resist ye? My body is here tae serve ye as ye wish.

Jamie lowered his face, bringing his lips to hers. His tongue caressed the seam of her lips, seeking entry. Her lips were soft, warm, and yielded to his desire. She opened to him like a flower in full bloom. Their tongues twinned together engaging in a ritual courtship dance.

His cell phone rang and vibrated on the table. He saw it was Sandringham’s office and pushed the phone away with annoyance expecting the message to go to voicemail.

“So, where were we?” He queried as his tongue licked the sensitive skin at the juncture of Claire’s neck and throat. Using his teeth he bit her causing Claire to erupt in chill bumps as she moaned in pleasure.

His hand slid between the folds of the gossamer fabric that covered her. Her skin was warm, silky. And her breasts ah...they were full and heavy. He ran a finger over a nipple making it harden and round just like a perfect pearl. How he longed to take it in his mouth and suckle like a babe at her breast. 

His mobile began to chime and vibrate. It skittered on the slick granite top, pulling their attention to the offending little device. Sighing Claire picked it up showing Jamie the home screen alert. Clarence Sandringham. 

“I think you should take the call. He’ll keep calling. We can always pick up where we left off later.”

Jamie grudgingly answered the call. It was Ainsley with the information about his appointment.

“Thank ye kindly, Ainsley. I will be there,” as he placed the information on his calendar. 

“I’m seeing  Dr. de Gascogne Monday at 1 pm. Do ye think ye will be free tae come with me?”

“You want me to come with you? Why ever for?” She wanted to tease him asking if he was afraid of going to the doctor, but held her tongue.

He looked at Claire with soft sweet imploring eyes, “I would feel better with ye by my side ‘tis all.” The tips of his ears pinked as he thought of his need for her by his side supporting him.

“Well if you wish that I come with you, of course, I will.”

Jamie let out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding, “Thank ye Sassenach.” He didn’t want to admit he was nervous and afraid. Afraid his hand would not heal well and he would never be able to operate again. Worse yet, he feared he would not be able to care for Claire, love her, or serve her as she deserves. And she deserved a whole man, not a broken one.

Claire sensing a change in Jamie’s mood cleared her throat feeling that the moment between them had broken. The fire in their bellies had been smoored but not extinguished. She gave Jamie a light kiss on his lips, “Shall I make us breakfast?”

“Nay, lass. ‘Tis my turn to make breakfast. How about I make ye some of my famous parritch with berries? I can do that one-handed.”

“ Alright. Then I guess it’s my turn to make a phone call.”

“Tae who, Sassenach?”

“My dog sitter, Mrs. Bug. I think I should let her know when I’ll be home and pick up Ginger.”

“Aye, that would be a good idea. Ye go on and make yer call. I’ll let ye know when breakfast is ready.”

Claire dialed the number and the phone was picked up quickly. In the background she could hear the cacophony of a television playing, children laughing, and a dog barking. Her sweet girl.

“Ethan, ye wee gomeral, put that down afore ye break it. Hello,” shouted what sounded like an exasperated Mrs. Bug.

“Hallo, Mrs. Bug. It’s Claire. It seems I have caught you at a bad time. I just called to let you know I would be by to pick up Ginger on Sunday evening if that’s alright with you?”

“Claire, ma dearie, och ‘tis not a bad time.”

“Caleb, dinna make me come over there. Be a good lad and eat yer parritach. Dinna put it in yer brother’s hair.” 

“Sunday would be fine. Shall I make ye some soup? I’ll wager ye dinna eat properly while ye were away.”

“No, no, that’s not necessary, Mrs. Bug,” Claire sighed with exasperation. Mrs. Bug was always trying to feed her up.  

“Yer too thin, lass. Ye need to put some meat on yer bones. Gives a man something tae hang on tae. Ye ken what I mean?” Claire swore she heard Mr. Bug snicker in the background.

Before she could respond to Mrs. Bugs’ latest attempt to meddle in her life, there was the sound of pottery crashing accompanied by loud wailing in the background.

She seized the opportunity to end the call. “I think you are needed at the moment. I’ll see you on Sunday, Mrs. Bug. Give my regards to your husband. Take care.” Claire clicked off the call and exhaled a deep breath. She did not know how the elderly couple managed to babysit children, pets, and find the time to pry into other people's lives. She was exhausted just listening to the carrying on.

“Is everything alright, Sassenach?”

“Yes, fine. The Bugs are a sweet elderly couple. They are really grandparents to the entire neighborhood. But they take on so much that I just don’t know how they manage.”

“It seems they enjoy it. Everyone needs to feel useful,” Jamie pointed out. “Now, come and eat. Breakfast is ready milady. ‘Tis no’ as fancy as you make it, but it will fill ye up.”

He pulled out her chair waiting for her to take her seat. 

Claire lowered her eyes and a small smile flitted across her face. No man had ever done that for her before.

Jamie served her the parritch topped with strawberries, sliced almonds, and drizzled with honey.

“‘Tis no’ gourmet, but ‘tis no’ lumpy. I dinna like lumpy parritch,” he grimaced with the thought. He stood next to Claire anxiously waiting for her to taste it. Anxious being the operative word. 

Claire dove in tasting his offering. It was delicious. Creamy with a bit of cinnamon in it as well.

Jamie watched intently as she ate it. He didn't know why he was so worried if she liked the parritch, but he was. Well if he was honest with himself he knew she was a better cook than he and he wanted to please her.  He felt foolish worrying so, after all, it was only parritch. But he couldn’t help himself.  “Do ye like it Sassenach? Is it too hot? Maybe ye would like a bit of cream. I dinna want ye tae burn yer tongue. Would ye like more honey? I could make ye something else if ye dinna like it,” he worried chewing his lower lip.

Claire smiled, the tip of her tongue slipped out and caught a golden drop of honey on her lip, “Jamie, it’s delicious, really. Please sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

Pleasure lit up his face at seeing her enjoyment. Hurriedly he sat down and began to eat with great enthusiasm.

They chatted amicably enjoying their meal and each other’s company.

“Why don’t ye take our coffee into tae sitting room, Claire, while I clear the table?” Jamie stood at the sink rinsing the dishes then stacking them in the dishwasher.

“Alright.”  Carrying their mugs of coffee into the sitting room, Claire placed them on the wooden trunk he used as a coffee table. She wandered around the room looking at the objects that occupied the space as if they would reveal the secrets of the man she loved. She came upon a striking antique mahogany table that stood near the fireplace that was inlaid with white and black marble squares. Two elegantly carved chairs were situated so they sat opposite each other at the table. She ran a hand lovingly across the tabletop admiring its fine craftsmanship.

“‘Tis magnificent, is it no’?” he inquired, wrapping his arms around Claire’s waist nuzzling at her neck.  “‘Tis a family heirloom. It belonged to a great, great, great uncle who lived in Paris in tae 18th century. He was a wine merchant and a Jacobite as weel.” 

“It’s  truly beautiful. Do you have the original chessmen that go with it?” asked Claire.

“Aye, I do,” he replied, opening a side draw revealing the chess pieces. He pulled out the black Queen handing it to Claire. 

She stroked it lovingly appreciating the fine detail of the carving. “It is an exquisite piece, a work of art.”

Jamie looked at her hopefully, “Ye wouldna happen tae play would ye? ‘Tis hard for me tae find an opponent. No’ many people want tae play against me.”

Claire brightened, “I do play. Lamb taught me when I was a child.” Her face misted over with the memories of nightly chess games with either Lamb or Firouz by the campfire. Each man taught her what moves to make, strategies to employ, and tried to instill in her the value of competition, of being a good winner. But more importantly, the virtue of losing gracefully.  “Lamb believed that it would make me a logical thinker and develop strong problem-solving skills.  And he was quite right. It’s been invaluable to me as a surgeon.”  But Claire knew that playing chess had increased her already present competitive spirit. She liked to win.

His heart gladdened with the news. “Might I entice ye tae play a game with me?”

“I would love to. It’s been so long though, I might be a bit rusty.” Claire stopped remembering what he said. ‘Tis hard for me tae find an opponent. No’ many people want tae play against me. Curiosity got the better of her. “Um, Jamie? Why can’t you find anyone to play a game with?”

“Sit Sassenach, make yerself comfortable,” he offered. A sly grin spread across his face. “Ladies choice, which do ye prefer, the black or the white?”

“White. No, I’d prefer black. I don’t like making the opening move.”

“Having the opening move can give ye an advantage and ye will need it. I was Captain of my chess club in high school and in Uni. I’m no’ being bold when I tell ye I have won many competitions. I am offering ye a chance tae win.”  A cocky look spread across his face as he went about setting up the chessboard.

So that’s why no one will play with him. He was a chess prodigy. “No, I didn’t know that.” Tapping a finger against the table, Claire carefully weighed this new piece of information deciding how to use it. She played well but simply was not in Jamie’s league.  Her competitive nature rose to the surface with his challenge. If she wanted to win, and she did, she knew she would need an edge. Just, not the one he was offering.

 ”No, I stand by my choice. I’ll take black,” she smiled coyly. There’s more than one way to win this game, my lad, she thought.

The first mistake, he mused. By allowing him to open it would allow him to play aggressively. He wanted the game over in twenty moves or less. And to do that he would make use of the King’s Gambit. Bobby Fischer defeated an opponent in eight maneuvers. Jamie knew he was good but not that good. 

He opened by moving his pawn to e-4. 

Claire countered by placing a pawn to e-5.

A white pawn moved to f-4.

Smiling smugly, Claire accepted the challenge by taking this pawn. 

Just what I want, he thought as his lip turned slightly upward. Not wanting to appear aggressive and moving too quickly, Jamie sat rubbing his chin in concentration.

Looking up he watched as Claire’s fingers lightly stroked her arm up then down. Her fingers eventually traveled up, over her shoulder then down to graze over the edge of her breast. Slowly. Touching herself just with the tips of her fingernails the outline of her breast became visible beneath her silk robe. She followed the same pattern over and over. His mouth hung open hypnotized by her. He shook his head like a wet dog to dispel his thoughts. And oh what thoughts he was having.

“Knight to f-3,” he announced.

Claire smiled taking in his chosen placement.

She licked her lips jutting out her plump bottom lip as she considered her next position.

Surreptitiously, Jamie looked at that sweet voluptuous lip peeping out at him. What he wouldn't give to suck it into his mouth and tease it with his teeth and tongue. Christ, the woman was driving him mad.  Get yer mind back on the game, he told himself.

“Pawn to g-5.”

Jamie looked pleased with her play. He bit the inside of his cheek while considering his next strategic move.

Claire studied the board intently waiting for Jamie to place his piece. Her index finger gravitated to her lips gently gliding over it. Lips parting, her fingertip entered her mouth and she began to lightly suck it. Her finger floated across her lips making them glisten with the dew from her mouth. She smiled coquettishly as she dropped her hand to caress the black Bishop. Her movements were sensuous, sliding over the chess piece from top to bottom, bottom to top. She made a slight twisting motion as she stroked the piece. 

Jamie’s eyes never left her hand. His mouth went dry.

“It’s still your turn” she whispered demurely. 

“Pawn to h-4,” he choked out his words. Small beads of sweat appeared on his lip.

“Pawn to g-5” she stated sweetly. 

Jamie refused to look up at her, “Knight to g-5.”

“Hum, interesting, Pawn to h-6.” Jamie’s hand rested next to the board. She placed her hand over his and began to trace patterns over the back of his hand.

He burned from the contact of her skin on his. Gently he removed his hand, immediately regretting the loss of her caress. Rubbing the side of his nose he tried to clear his head from the sight and feel of her. He meant to win this game and she was doing her best to distract him. Weel, he wouldna let her.

“Knight to f-7,” Jamie countered hoping Claire would expose her King.

Claire brought her King forward taking Jamie’s Knight.

“Queen to g-4,” Jamie grinned, setting up his advanced attack.

“Knight to f-6,” Claire defends her King. 

Jamie smirked, after this move, he was three moves away from winning. “Queen to f-4.”

He looked at Claire, finding her absorbed pondering her next move. Her hand followed the V of the neckline of her robe. Leaning forward, her hand gracefully began to trace her décolletage exposing more and more skin with each pass of her hand. Soon the curve of her breast was exposed. 

His eyes darkened with just a sliver of blue iris exposed. A deep rumbling noise rose from the back of his throat, dangerous, predatory. 

Stretching, Claire reached for her King placing it on f-8 enabling Jamie to see her hardened nipples straining against the filmy fabric. 

He rose walking to the side of the table bending over as if to examine the position of the pieces in play. Straightening up he turned and snatched Claire’s arm pulling her impossibly close to his heated body. 

“Let’s play something else,” he growled, capturing her mouth as he had planned on seizing her King. His mouth was hungry for hers. He licked, nipped, and tasted her mouth with kisses slow and erotic. One hand reached up and cupped her head while the other drew her closer against him, jealous of the space the air between them occupied. His kisses deepened, searing her lips. His hand buried deeper into her curls, as his kisses became more demanding.

 Claire melted against him, her mouth open to him as her robe gave way leaving her exposed. He palmed her breast roughly feeling the puckered nipple under his hand. He rolled it between his fingers causing her to whimper. 

“Yer a right dodgy player Claire. Ye dinna play fair teasing me, distracting me throughout the game,” he snarled. “And for that, yer coming with me. We’re gonna play a new game.”

He lifted her, threw her over his shoulder, and strode with single-mindedness toward the bedroom.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Fraser? Put me down this instant!” Claire bellowed kicking her legs, hitting him in the back in between fits of laughter. 

“Haud yer wheesht, woman!” 

Jamie unceremoniously dropped Claire onto the bed. Standing at the side of the bed he loomed over her. His breath harsh and his chest heaving. His eyes were glazed over with lust. She lit a fire in his belly that needed to be put out. He licked his lips anticipating what was to come next. 

Claire scrambled to her knees backing away from him just a little.

Raising her chin in defiance, “What do you plan on doing to me?”

His lips curled into a smirk, “I’m going to kiss ye.”

She blinked. “We’re going to play a kissing game? Isn’t that childish?” she asked in confusion.

“Oh no, lassie, ‘tis a verra good game. ‘Tis one where I get tae devour ye and leave ye with naught but yer cries for mercy.”

Claire studied him, trying to puzzle him out. She eventually gave it up as a lost cause.

“Um, well I do like kissing you.”

“I ken that.” His eyes gleamed.

Jamie crawled up onto the bed. His body radiated so much heat it could be felt from several inches away. He was a blazing inferno.

He sat back on his haunches fixing her with a piercing look. 

Claire’s spine tingled under his scrutiny. It was unnerving her.

“Give me yer mouth, Sassenach,” he requested sweetly.

Claire leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his lips.

“Ok, so we’re done, right?” she asked nervously not quite knowing what to expect. 

“And ye call that a kiss? Tsk! Nay, we haven’t even started yet,” he grinned wickedly.

Jamie removed his shirt then sat back to remove his sweatpants. 

He shifted himself to sit so his back rested against the headboard. “Come here, sit beside me,” he requested, patting the space next to him.

Claire hesitated for a moment then moved to sit beside him.

His arm came up wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“See, that’s so much nicer, is it no’?”

“What are you up to Jamie?” she asked one eyebrow quirked in question.

“I told ye, a nighean I just want to kiss ye.” 

He cupped her face, turning it toward him. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips. Slowly he lowered his face until their lips were a breath away. He placed a kiss so light it felt like the wings of a dove floating across her lips

“‘Tis pleasant?” he whispered into her mouth.

“Yes,” Claire replied breathily.

“Good. May I kiss ye again?”

“Mmhm.”

Brushing an errant curl away from her face, he tilted her head back seeking out her mouth like he did that morning. Still sweet from the honey and berries he ate for breakfast, he fitted his lips to her’s. Slowly he increased the pressure on Claire’s mouth molding them together creating delicious friction. 

Jamie pulled away momentarily giving her a sinful grin. His eyes engulfed her, finally settling on her mouth. He felt like a man drowning and only her kiss and her breath could save him.  Her mouth was his lifeline. Jamie lowered his head and began to rain kisses across her mouth lightly at first then deeply, possessively.

Jamie broke away, resting his forehead against hers. Tenderly he brushed his lips across her cheek, then to her ear to nibble at the shell. Finding her succulent earlobe, he drew it into his mouth caressing it suggesting things yet to come.

Claire dropped her head back whimpering, making an offering of her alabaster neck to him. She pulled at his hair, dragging him closer.

Jamie plied his attentions to the long column of her neck, nibbling, sucking her sensitive skin. Using his mouth he gently nudged her robe off her shoulders letting it drop off her shoulders, and slide down her arms pooling around her hands and bum. 

Claire sucked in her lower lip gently biting it.

He grinned. Softly, he placed tiny kisses along her shoulder working his way down her arms until he reached her hand. He kissed her wrist, her palm. Raising her hand so she could see, he took each finger into his mouth and sucked each digit in its turn.

Claire began to shudder and breathe heavily by the time he finished with her thumb.

Jamie repeated his ministrations to the opposite hand, arm and shoulder. Dropping his head, he lowered his lips brushing them across her chest down to her breast. Finding her nipple he began to suckle one then the other making each one harden and pebble. He scraped his teeth gently against the tender nipple as it slipped from his mouth. 

She became restless, shifting her body arching her back needing to come closer to him.  Claire gasped at the sensations running through her.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for your love is more delightful than wine,” Claire whispered. 

“Quoting Scripture are ye?” Jamie smiled broadly knowing what he was doing to her.

His mouth and tongue trailed kisses down over her belly, slowly, languorously. “Beautiful, yer so beautiful mo nighean donn.”

“Jamie, I... I... ah...Oh, god.”

He chuckled, as he felt her melt with each kiss he pressed on her. She deserved every slow torturous one he would give her. After all, fair’s fair.

Jamie continued his downward trek, kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh, behind her knee, down to her toes. Using the opposite leg he began his ascent toward his ultimate goal.

“Jamie, please, I need...I want...more. Please, Jamie.”

“Do ye no’ like my kisses? Do ye want me tae stop?” he asked, giving her a soulful look. His voice was full of hurt and disappointment.

 Leaning up on her elbows to look him in the face, “No, no. I mean I want more. Christ, I don’t know what I mean.” And she flopped back onto the pillows, biting her lip and began uttering odd throaty sounds.

He smiled smugly, “Then ye shall have it.”

Reaching her core, he blew softly over it causing Claire to buck. 

“Hush now, Sassenach let me kiss ye.”

His mouth settled into its work, beginning to kiss her most intimately. Lightly at first then pressing deeper lavishing all his attention on her sensitive flesh. 

Claire moaned and whined. Her hands tangled in his hair sliding down to cup his face. Close, she was so close. “Jesus H. Roooosevelt Chrissst,” she hissed.

And then he stopped and rose up to sit next to her. He was hard as stone but was determined to see this through. She needed to learn it wasn’t nice to manipulate someone especially someone who loves them. “What would ye like to do now, Sassenach? Watch a movie? We could read a book, perhaps? Maybe a nice brisk walk instead.”

“Whaaat? What do you mean what do I want to do? I want you to finish what you started,” she snarled with frustration.

“Oh, but I did, my own,” he said as he leaned over to kiss the crown of her head. I said I wanted tae kiss ye and I did. I also said I would leave ye with naught but yer cries for mercy. And I did that too.” A satisfied grin plastered over his face.

“Mac na galla,” she shouted at him as she picked up a pillow and swung it at him beating him ferociously wherever she could reach him.  

He laughed at her use of Gàidhlig to swear at him while trying to deflect the blows of the murderous pillow.

“I surrender madam, I surrender, ” he laughed. She looked so fierce his wee Sassenach lassie. Eyes flashing, skin flushed with anger, all pink and rosy. She was glorious.

“That isn’t very nice of you, Jamie Fraser. To leave me all worked up wanting, needing…” He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Now ye ken how I felt during the chess match.”

She looked abashed as she clutched the pillow to her chest. “Well, I wanted to win,” she muttered petulantly as she gave him a sidelong look.  “I mean you were bragging about what a great chess champion you are, so I resorted to using my womanly wiles. I had to do something to even the playing field,” she retorted. Claire turned her head away as she picked at an imaginary loose thread on the pillow slip, “I shouldn’t have done that. It was very poor sportsmanlike behavior on my part,” she blushed. “But you set me up, Jamie Fraser. You didn’t tell me you were some great chess champion until after I agreed to the match. That wasn't fair either,” she glared at him.

“Aye, yer right, and I’m sorry for it. Forgive me, Claire?”

Her facial expression softened from annoyance to tenderness, “Yes, forgiven. Forgive me too?”

Jamie tipped her head up and looked into her eyes that reminded him of liquid honey fresh from the hive. “Forgiven, mo ghràdh.”

“We could have a re-match if you like.” 

“I dinna think so, ye’ll cheat. Ye canna help it,” he glowered at her. “Let’s just leave it as a draw, hm?”

“You’re right about that,” Claire laughed. “I don’t like losing. A draw it is.”

“Come here mo chridhe, ” he beamed holding open his arms to her.

Claire eyed him suspiciously, “What are you planning to do?”

“I want tae kiss ye, ” he chuckled.

“Oh no, you don't. You're not going to get me all riled up again and not finish the job. I'm no fool you know.”

“Never thought ye were. I just thought we could start at the beginning and see where it takes us,” he proposed as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sound like a plan?”

Claire launched herself into his arms, ”Aye, that sounds wonderful.”

***************************************************************************************

CABG - Coronary Artery Bypass Grafting - Treatment used for blocked coronary arteries. Open heart surgery.

Mitral Valve Repair/Replacement is a treatment used to repair if possible the mitral valve. If it is not repairable, it is replaced either with a tissue valve made from the lining of a pig or cow’s heart or a metallic mechanical valve. It is possible for any heart valve to be repaired or replaced, not only the mitral.

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for your love is more delightful than wine - Song of Songs 1:2 New International Version of the Holy Bible

[ejzah]

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 12

A/N: Hopefully this chapter isn’t too much of a mess, but I think it kind of might be. It’s been a bear to deal with. I based it around a modified version of “Little Angels” from season 2.

***

Deeks was sitting on the edge of his desk, facing Sam and Callen while they chatted. He’d finished all of his paperwork and setting up his online accounts. He now had limited access to several federal databases (of course only after being threatened with life imprisonment if he discussed the contents with anyone). There wasn’t much else he could do until someone gave him further instruction.

“So how’d the firearms training go?” Sam asked Deeks, smirking at him in a not entirely friendly way. Scratch that, there was nothing friendly about it. Deeks had known Agent Hanna would be a hard sell from the moment he met him, but he wasn’t sure why the other man had so much animosity for him. Even his lack of experience didn’t explain it.

“It went fine,” Deeks answered, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. Kensi was talking with Hetty in her “office”. Likely talking about him. Somehow he didn’t think Hetty would be overly impressed with his progress at the shooting range.

If she made it a point of contention, he would reference his freshly signed contract, which made no mention of firearms training. He’d double checked.

“Really?” Callen said condescendingly. “So you fired inside the lines?”

“Yes.” Deeks wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend himself. He didn’t even want firearms training. It would actually probably work in his favor if he played up on his lack of ability, but there was something infuriating about the two agents’ superior attitude. They immediately assumed he would fail and that annoyed him.

“Where?” Sam asked, his voice leading.

“Right shoulder,” Deeks said, not mentioning how close it had been to the very edge.

“Ha, knew it!”

“You do remember that this was my first lesson, right?” Deeks didn’t expect them to have any sympathy, and he was right.

“Deeks, I had better aim than that when I was a kid,” Sam said. And so had he, Deeks thought bitterly.

“Well to be fair, not all of us were overachievers,” Callen said, his tone teasing. He muttered something that sounded like “mathlete” under his breath and Sam glared at him warningly. “In any case, Deeks, I hope you’re seeing that this isn’t a game. It’s a hard job and it takes dedication.”

“Never thought it was,” Deeks said with a bitter smile. He saw Kensi coming back down and remembered their bet. While chatting, he’d been silently thinking of ways to distract her enough to make her touch him. Based on the past few weeks, it wouldn’t be all that difficult.

A piercing whistle echoed through the room, distracting him from his nefarious plans, and they all turned towards the stairs where Eric and Hetty were waiting. Each day Eric had announced his presence in a different, and often bizarre, way. Personally, Deeks preferred the day Eric had yodeled his way down the stairs. The song was unrecognizable and sounded truly awful, but Deeks appreciated the variation. Not to mention, the irritation on Sam’s face.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, make haste,” Hetty said gravely. Deeks followed everyone up the stairs, moving to the back of the room as Eric pulled up a man’s military ID on the big screen.

“Commander Jason Rehme designs and maintains the cryptographic logons used by the department of naval personnel with the highest security clearance,” Eric began.

“Commander Jason Rehme is missing,” Hetty added. “He had a department meeting at 0600. He never showed.”

“He hasn’t answered any calls, texts or emails.”

“Does NCIS normally handle missing person cases?” Deeks asked, wondering why a case like this wouldn’t be handed down to a lesser agency.

“The Commander isn’t just any missing person,” Eric answered. “Rehme has access to nearly all of the navy’s confidential information. He’d be a prime target for domestic and international terrorists.”

“Ok, that’s definitely not good.”

“Indeed, Mr. Deeks.”

“He’s been missing for an hour and a half,” Callen said, glancing at Eric. “Send me his last known whereabouts. Let’s move.”

“What do you want me to do?” Deeks asked as he jogged down the stairs behind Kensi.

“You can hang out with Eric,” Sam suggested. “Maybe he has some files that need to be burned or something.” Deeks frowned at the back of his head, pursing his lips.

“He really does not like me,” he muttered as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Kensi stopped beside him.

“He’ll come around eventually,” she said. She reached to knock his shoulder, but pulled her hand back at the last second before she made contact. “But until then, don’t try to annoy him too much.”

Deeks didn’t comment on that, watching as Kensi grabbed her Sig and slipped it into her waistband.

“Be careful,” he said, leaning towards her. Her eyes widened for a second as he dipped his head. “I wouldn’t want anything to interfere with our date.” Kensi’s lips parted for a second, her body drifting closer to his for a second. Then she abruptly pulled back with a smirk.

“I think you mean you don’t want anything to interfere with my tacos. Because I’m definitely not losing this bet.” She walked backwards for a few steps, looking extremely pleased with herself.

“Touché,” he shouted after her.

***

The three agents returned looking subdued, and on Sam’s part, extremely angry. He headed to Hetty’s office immediately without saying a word. He had a fierce, singleminded look about him that immediately put Deeks more on edge than he already was.

“We found the Commander, but his daughter-“

“Is missing,” Deeks finished for Kensi. “Yeah, Eric told me.” He’d also shown him the video the Commander received from Amanda’s kidnapper. The sounds of her panicked screams and pleas would likely fuel Deeks’ nightmares for some time to come.

“Do you have any idea who might have done it? Eric said that there was a guy who killed three other girls this way, but that he was still in prison.” Kensi shook her head, biting at her bottom lip.

“No. It has to be a copycat. We’re stalled right now because this is technically the FBI’s case. Sam’s asking Hetty to let us take over or at least assist the FBI,” Callen explained with a deep sigh. “This is not going to be a pretty case. And the longer this takes, the less time Amanda has.”

“We have co-lead on the case,” Sam said, jogging down to the bullpen. “Let’s see what Eric has.”

“The Angeles National Forest is close to 650,000 acres,” Eric said a few minutes later when they were all in the operations center. “If Amanda’s in there, finding her is going to be next to impossible.”

“What about using infrared?” Kensi asked.

“She’s buried, her body temperature is dropping. It’s not going to work.” Deeks silently watched as they tossed around suggestions, moving with a single-mindedness he’d yet to witness. He felt useless amidst the urgency.

“Can you bring up the kidnapper’s video again?” Callen requested. Deeks could have lived without ever seeing it again. Eric pulled it up along with the video of the other three girls.

“The camera angle’s the same on every one, same size box,” Deeks noticed, earning a surprised look from Sam who added,

“And those are the same blue surgical gloves.”

“I’d say whoever killed the first three girls also has Amanda.” No one contradicted him.

He took a step back again as Eric searched for the Chevy Malibu that had left the park in the wee hours. It was amazing how quickly they were able to narrow it down the owner once Kensi noticed the damage and link it to Lucas Maragos’ brother, Andre.

“Kensi, go out to the US penitentiary at Victorville and see if you can make some sense of this,” Callen instructed.

“And take Mr. Deeks with you,” Hetty added, silently stepping into the room as she observed the various pieces of evidence on the screen.

Kensi looked just as surprised as Deeks felt, but she didn’t question Hetty’s instructions.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Callen asked. Personally, Deeks had wondered the same.

”This seems the perfect situation; I’m sure Deeks has interviewed many a criminal while in prison.” She looked to him for confirmation and he nodded.

“I have.” Just not ones who were serving life sentences for burying children alive. “I can handle it.”

“Good,” Hetty said, gesturing for them to go.

***

“So what do you want me to do?” Deeks asked, glancing around the cool jail cell. A guard had escorted them to the room a few minutes ago and directed them to sit at the table while he retrieved Lucas Maragos. It was oddly lit, the sunlight streaming through the window creating an almost sunset feel to the room. Somehow it only added to the overall creep factor.

Although he’d been a part of more serious criminal cases, particularly while he was finishing law school, he’d never defended a killer before. He wasn’t really looking forward to meeting a man capable of torturing little girls and their families.

Kensi didn’t respond, her gaze focused on her phone and he nudged her with his shoulder. She’d been mostly silent during the drive to the penitentiary. Although he’d felt the urge to break the tension with humor, he’d controlled himself. This wasn’t the time for distraction.

“Callen and Sam found the Malibu in Andre Maragos’ garage,” she told him, brows furrowed.

“That’s good, right?” Deeks asked. “I mean, it’s horrible in that this guy is probably a serial killer too, but it means that we’re closer to finding Amanda.”

“Andre and his wife claim they don’t know anything about the car. Supposedly their personal assistant is the only one who uses it. Callen and Sam are going to check out a camp in Angeles Forest that Andre and Lucas went to when they were kids.”

“That’s good, Kensi,” he said encouragingly. “It means we’re getting closer.” She turned to face him, her eyebrows drawn forward with worry.

“Callen also said that Eric calculated how much air is left in the box Amanda is buried in. It’s less than nine hours now Deeks. That’s not enough time,” she said, sounding distraught.

There was nothing else he could say that wouldn’t be a pointless platitude so he simply took Kensi’s hand and squeezed it. She smiled gratefully, squeezing back, her hand cool and firm in his.

“Wait a second,” she said after a second, her expression turning suspicious. She dropped his hand abruptly. “You’re trying to make me lose the bet, aren’t you?”

“That honestly was the very last thing on my mind,” he told her, amazed that she thought his mind was on anything other than Amanda at the moment. Kensi looked momentarily abashed before she gathered herself again.

“Oh, sorry. But keep your hands to yourself for now. We don’t want to give this guy anything to work with.”

“Which brings me back to my original question, what do you want me to do?”

“Just follow my lead.”

“That’s super helpful,” he muttered under his breath. Despite what most people thought, he liked to plan before he acted, particularly when it came to interviews.

The outer door buzzed and two prison guards brought Maragos through. His hands and ankles where both bound with chains.

Beside him, Kensi sat with her back perfectly straight, appearing professional and detached. There wasn’t a hint of the uncertain woman from a few minutes ago. It was amazing how easily she could flip that switch.

“Mr. Maragos, do you know why you’re here?” she asked, once the guards left.

“Another girl was kidnapped,” Marago said. “Which means that I might not have to spend the rest of my life in here.” His arrogance amazed Deeks and he couldn’t help himself from saying,

“It’s interesting that you know about her, given that you’re in prison and haven’t had any visitors in weeks.” Maragos just shrugged. For a second, Deeks thought he’d gone too far.

“Was the MO the same?” Maragos asked after a moment.

“Exactly the same,” Kensi confirmed.

“You got a partner on the outside?” Deeks followed up.

“Oh no. No, no, no,” he answered, his tone almost mocking which just fueled Deeks’ quiet rage. His resolution to follow Kensi’s lead was completely forgotten. “Check my call records and my email.”

“We did,” Kensi said shortly. “The only phone calls you make are to your brother Andre.”

Lucas Maragos shifted, showing the first sign of discomfort, if it could be called that, since he’d entered the room.

“Is that it? You and your brother like killing together?” Deeks wasn’t sure where the question had come, but he saw the slightest flash in Maragos’ eyes. It was enough to make him continue. “Yeah? Bury the girl and then sit there giggling with each other while they suffocate to death?” He heard Kensi inhale sharply, but didn’t look away from Maragos.

Lucas shook his head, glancing away, like Deeks’ words has somehow affected him.

“I didn’t kill those girls,” he insisted.

“Course not,” Deeks whispered. Maragos moved his hands, for what purpose he wasn’t sure, but Deeks felt a moment of sadistic pleasure when the chains prevented him from moving further. His jaw clenched, a hint of anger showing for the first time. Good, they were getting to him.

“Is there any evidence at all that points to my brother? He could have committed all these murders,” he suggested.

“Your DNA is all over the victim’s bodies,” Kensi said, her tone short and pointed.

“We’re related, the DNA’s gotta be close. Nobody checked my brother’s DNA.” Sighing, Kensi ignored Maragos’ attempt to distract them.

“You and your brother went to the same camp in Angeles National Forest. We think the latest girl could be buried there.”

“I help you find her, you reopen my case,” Maragos said. Deeks answered before Kensi could.

“You have nothing to do with it, sure.” Maybe it wasn’t his place to make promises, but he knew the importance of limitations. He’d seen enough guys get off because of loopholes. And he was 95% certain this guy was involved in the kidnapping and murders in some way.

“When we were kids, there were feral cats all over the place. Andre? Well, André used to spend hours catching them and strangling them.” It sounded like he was telling a bedtime story and Deeks felt his stomach clench. There wasn’t any sign that Maragos felt any remorse for his brother’s supposed actions.

“Wow, the golden summers of a sociopathic’s youth,” Deeks whispered. Kensi knocked his knee under the table. Maybe that had been going a bit far.

“I know where he buried them,” he insisted.

“Ok, then show us,” Kensi said.

“That was...impressive,” Kensi said half an hour later as they waited for Maragos to be loaded into transport. Deeks had wanted to draw up a legal document for Lucas to sign, making his offer to help binding. Kensi insisted that they didn’t need to, pressing time as a main concern.

“Yeah, sorry. I got a little carried away,” Deeks responded, scratching at his beard. She didn’t sound upset with him, but he had sort of hijacked the interview.

“You sounded a lot more like a cop than I expected.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve spent enough time watching interrogations. And that didn’t seem that much different from when I have someone up in the witness stand,” he explained, then smirked at Kensi who looked worried and distracted again. “Of course, usually the witness is suing someone for scratching their Porsche or reneging on a business deal.”

“I’m glad you were there,” Kensi admitted, surprising him. “He gives me the creeps. If I was on my own, I might have punched his lights out.”

“Always happy to be of service. Any update from Sam and Callen?”

“They’re questioning Andre now. He wasn’t home last night.”

“Mm, well that doesn’t bode well for Andre. Hopefully Lucas actually knows where the body is and isn’t just taking the opportunity to get his first day trip in two years,” he said bitterly.

***

A/N: Obviously some event were changed or left out from the actual episode to suit my purpose. The next chapter will deal with the second part of the episode.

[jmeelee]

Sterek Week 2019 · Themes: Lyrics & Quotes, Canon Highlights

Rated: T

Words: 1,137

Based on the song, Put the Gun Down by ZZ Ward

*Warning: While this is very much a Sterek story (pre-sterek, if you will), it is the last episode of Teen Wolf from Lydia’s POV. 

++++++++++

“It’s time to put the guns down.”

-Chris Argent, Wolves of War

Lydia’s relationships with men have always been complicated.  It starts with her father, who not only divorces Lydia’s mom but his daughter as well when he abandons Beacon Hills to start a shiny-new family.  She isn’t naive enough to believe it will end with Stiles Stilinski, but deep down in a very secret part of her heart, she’d hoped. 

She won't define herself by the men who pass her like ships in the night, but she’s fiercely intelligent, adaptive and insightful, and each signal flash illuminates more of her truth. From Jackson Whittemore, Lydia discovers the cost of hiding who you are; from Aiden Steiner, the price of concealing your heart.  Scott McCall teaches her what a family can be, and Peter Hale demonstrates the heights and depths her power can reach.  What Jordan Parrish could have shown her she doesn't allow herself to explore, because the fire burning between two harbingers of death can’t possibly sustain life.  

Then, there’s Stiles.  

The image reflected back to her in Stiles’ warm, brown eyes is always artfully applied cherry-red lipstick and perfectly coiffed strawberry-blond curls, even on her worst days. For years she’s wrapped his devotion around her like a favorite oversized sweater, easily hung back in the closet when the weather turns warm.  These days it’s made of tougher, sturdier stuff, things she can’t define, and wears like armor, protecting her heart.  Before tonight, she never worried it might not be enough.

Despite no longer sporting crimson eyes and the title of alpha, Derek Hale storms back into town with self-assured confidence, born of blood and sacrifice and evolution, and wherever Derek goes, Stiles’ eyes follow. It makes Lydia feel bruised, skin rubbed raw, body dragged along the concrete under Roscoe’s tires. 

“You came back for Beacon Hills?” Scott asks, surprise and gratitude coloring his words. 

“No,” Derek answers, “I came back for you.”  Derek and Scott hug, grasp each other’s shoulders, bridge years of miscommunication and misunderstandings in seconds as the pack looks happily on. She’s never related to Peter more than when he breaks up the saccharine reunion with a snide, immature comment.  There's a petulant child inside her too, longing to scream in Derek’s young, handsome face, I had him first.   

She’ll never hang Derek for his family’s tragedy—that yard of rope wraps solely around Kate Argent’s neck, and will hopefully strangle her one day—but Derek’s return to the pack ignites a spark that threatens to burn down Lydia’s whole damn house. It’s devastatingly ironic  Should she laugh, or cry? Or scream.

Inside the vet clinic, she listens with a tight, sardonic smile as Stiles and Derek banter back and forth, weaving the tale of their reunion.  “You convinced the FBI to bring an intern onto an extremely dangerous field operation?” Lydia asks Stiles, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.  

Derek rolls his eyes. “I'm surprised he didn't convince them he could lead it.” The reply is part slight, part praise, just another round of their endless tug-of-war.  Lydia tries not to think about who will fall first. 

“Anyway, long story short,” Stiles gestures toward Derek, “I basically had to, you know, save his life.” 

If you unraveled the story of Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, the words would span continents, developed in chapters when Lydia was merely a recurring character, spine reinforced, made stronger by years of wear, tear, and repair.  The tale Stiles tells about rescuing Derek is something straight out of a romance novel, the cheesy kind she used to hide under her bed in middle school. While Derek’s version is less flowery, it’s clear they both want to be the hero in each other’s stories.  They always save each other.

Instinctually, she doesn’t want to look too closely at Stiles’ face, illuminated in the surgical light of the exam room, afraid she’ll see the ending clearly written across his features: Lydia, holding a white flag, back against the bullet-riddled wall.

--------------------

“I should have let you board that plane to Paris,” Lydia tells Malia, statue face frozen in perpetual terror. “Should have pushed you into the arms of those mysterious French men."       

She’s lost Jackson and Ethan somewhere in the dark, deserted halls of her alma mater, and a monster lurks outside the closed classroom door, turning her friends to stone.  “I love you,” it whispers through the cracks in the wood, between the beats of her heart.  It emanates from a Stiles-shaped space inside her head, but speaks with Derek’s voice. She’s heard the phrase before, directed at her, but never with that desperate, broken edge, so sharp and jagged it shreds her apart from the inside out.  She squeezes her eyes shut, presses palms against her ears, but the words are peppermint-scented, tickling her nose, the exact scent and flavor of Stiles’ toothpaste.  

The ardent whisper of a lover. Now. Darling. Then it changes, a wolf’s growl.  Let me in.

“Fear’s pretty motivating,” Derek words from earlier ring in her ears.  She sees him, strategically positioned next to Stiles, their bodies turned unconsciously toward each other.  It’s burned onto the backs of her eyelids. “Especially when it leads to anger.” 

Lydia never imagined she’d be this afraid, but it doesn’t make her angry.  She’s enraged. 

“You can’t have me,” she tells the Anuk Ite, and thinks of her quiet strength, her loud scream, of bringing an armory full of grown men to their knees.  

--------------------

“He’s not healing,” Malia cries, desperate fingers scrabbling over Scott’s bloodstained cheeks. 

“I’m trying.” Scott’s panicked breaths echo around the library. Her stomach heaves. “It’s not working.  I can’t focus.”

Malia cradles his head in her hands.  “Hey.  Hey!  Look at me.  Yes, you can, just concentrate.”    

But he’s not healing, no matter how much Malia begs, and everyone knows what it means.   Stiles looks at Lydia, eyes desperate, unnerved.  Lydia grabs Stiles’ hand, holds on for dear life.  “Malia...Kiss him.” 

Her friend looks back at her, face incredulous.  “What?”

“Kiss him.”

There’s a collective intake of breath when Scott and Malia’s lips part, and Scott’s eyes blink open.  Something exciting burst in her chest, strange and startling, and Stiles squeezes her hand. She looks up into his face, thinking, Love can win.   

But Stiles isn’t looking at Lydia.  As Scott heals, he and Derek stare at each other, faces alive with hope.  This is what you do for me.  

Her fingers slip from Stiles’ bruising grip.

Lydia’s relationships with men have always been complicated.  The end of this one has her feeling curiously sad, like she’s lost something she never even knew she had.  But she’s smart, and even tonight, on the eve of all-out war, Lydia still learns new, hard truths. 

Love is not bulletproof.  And Derek Hale is a smoking gun.

[shawnies-rihno-blog]

E.R Mayhem

 Part 3 of Ready For Me.

I was gonna finish the mini-series but then it got long and i think y/n and Shawn deserve a nice ending chapter. So the next one is probably gonna be the last one. Thank you so much for reading!! Also you can read the other parts in my Masterlist

WC: 2k 

Warnings: Cussing, mention of knife and blood??

Enjoy!

I was about to fully fall asleep in the On Call room, when my pager started beeping. Ugh. It was the E.R. Probably some drunkies who found a way to hurt themselves. I get up, putting on my running shoes and fixing myself up before heading out.

It was Saturday Night, one of the doctors was getting married, so many attending doctors were spending their time celebrating in Vegas. I was invited, but with me just becoming a surgical attending, I thought spending time at the Hospital would build my experience.  

I had barely slept in the past 36 hours, with a recent bus crash and all the victims being rushed to the hospital I worked at, it was hard to sleep and when I finally got some time to myself, some drunk guys showed up.

I walked into the Emergency Room, putting on my gloves and gown. 

“They are 4 minutes out. Also the paramedics said that the patient's friend is coming with them. Their BAC (Blood Alcohol Concentration) is about 0.175, so they are pretty drunk,” the nurse informs as I head to the doors.

As I wait for the ambulance, I can already feel myself dozing off. I hear the siren coming closer, I slap myself on the face to awaken myself. I stretch myself out being prepared for whatever was to come. The paramedics get out of the ambulance, and head to open the back door.

“They are pretty drunk. You’re in for a very long night,” one of them says. I can already hear them yelling at each other, even though the door is locked. 

“A male about the age of 25 and has a knife stuck in his tibia, we assume. We had to drag him out of a party, so we don’t have any I.D and when we asked his friend for his name he called him ‘Dumbass Rich White Boy’ so..” the other one explains.

The paramedics open the door and the person I least expected jumps out. Me saying I’m shocked would be the biggest understatement of my whole entire lifetime.

“Brian?” I exclaim.

“O.M.G it’s y/n!” he slurs.

I look over to the person on the stretcher. I have to do a double take, because I can't help but feel that my eyes have betrayed me. Shawn. The paramedics wheel Shawn down into the hospital, taking him into a secluded room. 

I run behind them, Brian repeated telling Shawn that he was being a wuss for coming to the hospital. I enter the room, seeing Brian slapping Shawn on the face, for whatever reason, and Shawn laughing on top of his lungs. Boy, was this going to be a long night!

I head over to Shawn’s leg, examining the damage. With Shawn constantly laughing, it’s hard to examine. 

“Hey doc, my leg hurts, can you do somethin’ ‘bout it?” Shawn slurs.

“Well you shouldn’t have stuck a knife in there. Don’t you think?” I reply. “Hook up 1 of morphine,” I continue this time talking to the nurse.

“y/n?” he asks, the room eerie now.

“Yes. It’s me Shawn. So can I ask how you ended up with a knife in your lower leg?” I ask, ignoring my heart skipping beats at the way he said my name.

“Oh, Brian said I’m a pussy so I showed him how i’m not a pussy.”

“Well..” Brian starts laughing, “You’re still a pussy, you didn’t let me pull the knife. PUSSY.” Brian exclaims still laughing.

“Okay, well Shawn, we need to get an X-Ray to see how extensive the damage is.” I reply ignoring Brian, because nothing good was coming out of him.

As I’m pushing Shawn’s gurney towards the Radiation Room, with Brian hot on my heels, I spot an intern, I call him over and ask him to assist me on this case, thinking I might as well teach someone something, after all it was a teaching hospital.

“Okay Shawn, you have to stay still, okay?”

“Why?” he questions drunkenly.

“Just listen to her, dumbass,” Brian chimes from the back.

“Brian say another word, and i will cuff you to this chair and put duct tape over your mouth! You hear me?” I state having enough of his bullshit.

“Y/n are you gonna leave me here all alone? Cus’ i’m scared. What if this machine eats me?”

“No Shawn i’m right here. Just stay still for ten seconds, okay?”

I go over to the computer, dragging Brian by the ear with me. I sit on the chair, the intern observing my actions and sitting beside me in another chair.

“Stand there, and don’t you dare move!” I tell Brian, he looks at me with the saddest puppy dog eyes, making me almost go soft for him. 

“So do you know them, Dr.y/l/n,” the intern asks.

“YA! Her and the guy in there use to fuck,” Brian exclaims happily.

“Brian I will kill you! And you know that,” I say to him as I apologize to the intern for Brian’s behavior.

The X-rays load up on the computer screen, the intern, Ethan, and I both examining the X-ray for any fatal damage. 

“Well, he wouldn’t need surgery, so that’s good, but we need to pull out the knife without damaging any nerves, and then we can stitch him up.” I say.

“Well he will for sure have to stay here for the night though, right?” the intern asks.

“Oh ya, for sure, with his drunken state, and the cut being that deep, he needs to be kept under examination for a day,” I reply and head over to Shawn, moving the machine away from him.

“The machine didn’t eat me!!” Shawn gasps. I chuckle at his stupidness, him still being the person he was years ago.

The intern pushes his gurney back to the room he was in, while I grab Brian, making him walk with me. 

“Okay, Listen, Ethan and I are gonna go grab some things so we can pull out the knife. Don’t touch him, okay Brian? And Shawn don’t move, just stay still.” I say to the both of them. It was 3 am and there weren’t enough nurses to help us, and Ethan who just joined about a month ago didn’t know much about the different types of sutures. So me taking Ethan with me was the only choice I had.

On our way back both Ethan and I’s hands were full of medical stuff, we both are right outside Shawn’s room when we hear him scream. It sounded like a painful one, I opened the door, scared to see what I would be served with. Then I see Brian holding a bloody knife in his hand. Did he try to stab Shawn? And then I look over to Shawn’s leg, the knife that was there when I left, now non existent. 

“Here, I made it easier for you! Now you just need to stitch him up.” Brian announces proudly. Shawn still breathing heavily due to the pain. 

I head over to Shawn and push more morphine in him to help him with the pain, paying no attention to Brian. “Ethan take him out and hook him with a banana bag, and make sure he doesn’t move from his place,” I say referring to Brian. 

Shawn calms down and I start re-examining his leg, praying to god I don't have to operate on him, knowing it would make his life ten times harder, for at least a couple of weeks. After examining his leg with a reflex hammer, seeing no nerve damage, I breathed out in relief. 

When I start suturing up Shawn, he starts talking again. 

“Where’s Brian?” He questions.

“I had to send him out, he was being highly inappropriate.”

“Oh.” He replies. After a little while he speaks again, “can i tell you a secret? You can’t tell anyone though. It can only stay between the two of us.”

“Yea sure. I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Because I had you… you know the song I wrote? Yea, well I wrote that song cus’ of you.” He says, staring up at the ceiling.

“Shawn you’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply taken aback a little.

“Yea I do.”

I stay quiet not knowing what to say, or knowing I would say something stupid. I stitch him up, and then leave the room. I tell the nurse to move Shawn into a real room to spend the night. I don’t see him the entire night, after that.

I head back to the On Call room, kicking of my sneakers, and laying down on the bed. I grab my phone and air-pods, searching up ‘Because I had you.’ I hadn’t made an effort to listen to his new music knowing it would fuck me up. I lay on my side, listening to his song, my eyes a little teary. Man, did he know how to make me cry. I drift off, listening to his music, finally clinging on to some sleep.

----

I wake up the next morning, music still playing. How did my phone not die? I re-do my ponytail and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and start on rounds. It’s Sunday morning, a lot of the families of the patients already here spending some quality time with their loved ones. A lot of the families are very nice, and some even offer my breakfast to which I politely declined. I look at the name of the last patient on the charts. Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. 

I take a deep breathe and enter his room. He has company, Brian sitting on the couch, an old woman -who I suppose is his mom, serving him breakfast, and a younger woman -did he get a new girlfriend???

“Oh Hi, Y/n,” Shawn chimes happily. “Meet my family, That’s my mom and that is my little sister,” he says pointing at each one of them. Oh that’s his sister! 

“Nice to meet you,” I say smiling at them politely. “Well I’m sorry but you will have to step back for a second, I just need to take a look at his leg.” His mother moves back smiling at me.

“Well I know for sure Shawn isn’t going to be partying ever after this,” She says. I smile at her comment. 

“Does it hurt here?” I ask him.

“A little.” He replies, his voice betrays him though, or maybe I just know his voice well enough to know he’s lying.

“I’m your doctor, Y’know you can’t be lying to me.”

“Well you could be my girlfriend,” he responds casually. 

I stiffen up for a second. What the hell? First of all, why would he say that, second of all, why would he say that in front of his family and third of all, why would he say that?! I look up at him giving me the softest smile. Oh fuck him and his beautiful face!

“Shawn where are your manners? She is your doctor, and you respect her for helping you after you and Brian tried to almost kill you!” His mother exclaims, I mentally thank her for saving my ass. 

“Well we weren’t tryi-” Shawn is cut off.

“Well, I mean, they were going out before, so the comment isn’t totally inappropriate,” Brian states. What a dumbass.

“What?!” his sister exclaims. 

My cheeks are now burning red, I want to run out of the room. I can feel everyone's eyes burning holes deep inside me. I stay put, and keep examining his stitches.

“Well, I’ll prescribe you some pain meds, and the pain should go away, and then you can be discharged in the evening,” I say as I head out the door.

“Y’know you are supposed to answer all the questions your patient asks you, you still didn’t answer mine,” I stopped dead in my tracks, not knowing how to reply to his idioticness.

“What question?” playing dumb would help right?

“About you being my girlfriend,”

“Well that was more a statement than a question,” I reply, smiling briefly at him and then heading out for breakfast.

-----

TAGLIST: @badpvn @murphymendes88 @shawn-youth @unsolvedhearts @rarestbitxh

OMG!!!!! Thank you for sticking around!!!!! I loved this part!! And i already have the perfect ending in mind! Thank you so much for reading and loving Ready for Me! Also comment if you wanna be apart of the taglist! x

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Twenty-Six → in which Klaus impersonates a Doctor

“So,” Nick asked, sitting on the dirt, “What’s the plan?”

Lilac pulled on her ribbon and said, “Klaus and the girls found some discarded uniforms. Too small, ripped or torn, dirtied up, stuff like that.”

“Looks like they were left out here for trash collection.” Klaus said. “But we can use these! They don’t look too rough, we can easily use them as disguises.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Disguises?”

Sunny nodded enthusiastically. “Doctors!” she said.

“Klaus wants to dress up as doctors and sneak Violet out of the hospital.” Lilac said darkly. “I think there are so many ways that plan could go wrong.”

“So long as we really act well,” Klaus said, “People might just think we’re short doctors. Everyone always buys into Olaf’s disguises. So why can’t we give it a try?”

Nick flinched. “You want to be like him?”

“We’re just…” Klaus paused, glancing at Soli.

“Using everyone’s dumbassery to our advantage.” Solitude shrugged.

Nick smiled a little, ruffling Soli’s hair. “Fair.”

“Not fair.” Lilac said, putting a hand on her necklace. “What if we get caught?”

“Yeet Babbitt.” Solitude said.

“Bite.” Sunny said.

“Stab.” Klaus said.

“We don’t have weapons.” Lilac reminded him. “And they have Violet. Listen, I want to get her back, too-”

“So do you have a better plan?” Klaus asked.

Lilac paused. “The vents. They look big enough to crawl through comfortably. We could go through there…”

“And then we have to stick to the shadows.” Klaus said. “And we can’t get directions or find people who could help us. If we get caught, we have no excuses.”

“But it’ll be safer.”

“No, it’s just… safer in one way, more dangerous in another.”

“Don’t fight!” Solitude said, throwing her hands over her ears.

Klaus and Lilac stopped a moment. “I’m sorry, Solitude.” Lilac said. “But we’re not fighting.”

“We’re not mad at each other.” Klaus promised. “Just a little stressed.”

Nick hesitated. “In the doctor disguises… would we have to… to see them?”

“The troupe?” Klaus asked. Nick shut his eyes and nodded, scratching his arm, and his brother continued, “Possibly.”

Nick sighed. “Then I have a plan.”

“Nick plans are best plans.” Solitude beamed.

“Whazzit?” Sunny asked.

Nick bit his lip. “Klaus, you and Li go in as doctors. I’ll go through the vents with the girls.”

“What?” Lilac jumped.

“You two get the info you need from the staff, or, hell, even the dumbass singing Volunteers.” Nick said. “We’ll follow you in the vents, serve as backup if anything should happen. Once you find Violet, we’ll follow you out. We get back out here, hotwire a car, find our way somewhere… somewhere else.”

“No.” Lilac shook her head. “No, we’re not splitting up.”

“We won’t be.” Nick said. “I’ll be right with you the whole time. And it’ll be safer for the girls to not be walking around the hospital.”

Sunny shook her head. “Calil.” she said, which meant something like, “I’m staying with Lilac and Klaus. They might need a biter.”

“Um, no.” Lilac said.

Sunny gave her a glare, and then picked up a large coat. “Lif!” she said, which meant, “Someone wear this and strap me inside, I’ll fit!”

“I could do that.” Klaus said. “I’ve carried you in baby bjorns before.”

“I… I don’t know.” Lilac said. “I don’t want any of you getting hurt. I can’t…” she shut her eyes. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Klaus threw his arm around her, and said, “Nothing’s going to happen. But none of us are just going to sit around while that creep has our Violet.”

Lilac bit her lip. “I just… when I think about her…”

“We won’t let anything happen to her.” Nick promised. “But we have to get her back, before they can get her away from us.”

Slowly, carefully, Lilac nodded. And then she said, “I… I just want you to know. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you all stay safe.”

Nick leaned forward and put a hand over hers, and Solitude grabbed the other and said, “Same for you.”

Lilac shut her eyes and then said, “If we’re going in disguise, can you… help me with something?”

“Of course.” Klaus nodded.

Lilac bit her lip. “We’re going to need to do something with my hair. The braids are… too recognizable.”

They were silent for a long moment, just staring at her. Then Nick scooted forwards and grabbed one of her braids. Slowly, he started to unravel it, and then Klaus took one, and then the toddlers wandered over and managed to reach up and unbraid one each. As they worked, Lilac pulled her ribbon from her dress, wrapping and unwrapping it around her palm.

When her siblings finally moved away, Lilac took her hair in her hands, shutting her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do. Then she took her hair and pulled it up, wrapping and piling until she had a messy bun. She tied it with her ribbon, making a bow, which she normally never did. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear and said, “How’s this look?”

Klaus leaned forwards and gave her a hug. And then the toddlers and Nick joined in, and they all sat together in silence for a long while.

As soon as Nick climbed into the vents, he realized he’d made a huge mistake.

Solitude was already crawling ahead of him, with Babbitt hopping ahead of her, peering through the grates to make sure they were ahead of their siblings. Nick slowly moved forwards, trying to keep from shaking, and then he whispered, “Soli?”

“Hmm?”

Nick took a deep breath. “These vents are a lot bigger than I thought, but, um… they’re still pretty cramped.”

Solitude shrugged. Of course it didn’t seem cramped to her, she was only a little over two feet tall.

“I was just… I’m not sure I like how small it is.”

Solitude peered over her shoulder, looking very confused. That made sense; she’d never known him to be claustrophobic. Not at all. She probably didn’t get it. “Oh?”

“So, I’m just saying… it should be big enough, but if I start to… to freak out, cause I already feel real nervous right now, can you just… find a safe place to let me out?”

Solitude paused, and then said, “Okay.”

“Thanks, Sol.”

Solitude gave him a bright smile. “No problem, bro!”

Babbitt hopped ahead, and Solitude followed. Nick took another breath, looking down the vent. He could see light this way. He could see the way out.

You’re going to be fine. You’re not there anymore. Lilac, Klaus and Sunny are out there.

And Violet needs you.

“Klaus, move faster.” Lilac hissed.

“I’m sorry, do you want to carry the baby?”

“Yes, actually. But there’s no time to switch, is there?”

The costumes were very rushed; Lilac was normally pretty good with them, having put together her own outfits a lot, as well as spending a lot of time with their Mother whenever she went over costume inventory for her performances, but they had been in quite the hurry and they were all very stressed.

Klaus’s large jacket had been tied around Sunny, making it seem like he was simply a bit overweight. They’d managed to scrape together a fake beard out of some more clothes from the trashbag, while Lilac had also put on a large lab coat, barely covering her long black dress. Her bun was holding, thankfully, and she’d also thrown on a surgical mask from a discarded box; they were apparently too small for regular doctors.

“Sunny,” Lilac whispered as they turned down a bend, “How you feeling?”

“Claustrophobic.” they could hear Sunny say from beneath the coat.

“We’ll be out soon.” Klaus said. “We just need to find where he’s keeping Violet.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s still at the hospital, because he wouldn’t leave without…” Lilac shut her eyes. “Without dealing with us. But she could be anywhere.”

That was when the intercom turned on.

“Attention! Attention!” came Count Olaf’s voice from the speaker; the Baudelaires were disgusted to hear he sounded joyous, giggling between every other word. “Today is a very important day in the history of Heimlich Hospital! In precisely one hour, a doctor here will perform the world’s first cranioectomy on a fourteen-year-old girl. We all hope this very dangerous operation is a complete success, and nothing goes wrong! That is all.”

They heard some more laughter, and then Esme’s voice. “Darling, you forgot to turn the microphone off.”

The intercom buzzed out, and Lilac said, her voice shaking, “Klaus, what’s a cranioectomy?”

Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Well, cranio means head, and ectomy is a medical term for removing something.”

Lilac paled. “Klaus…”

“Decap?” Sunny asked from beneath the coat, meaning something like, “Are they  going to cut off Violet’s head?”

“Son of a bitch…” Klaus muttered. He looked up towards the vents, hoping his other siblings were there, just being quiet in case someone came down the hall. “We’ve got to find her right away.”

“If she’s going in for surgery,” Lilac said, narrowing her eyes and trying to keep calm, “He’ll have her disguised as a patient.”

“And Hal said this hospital runs on paperwork.” Klaus said. “So she should be listed somewhere. Where would we find a patient list?”

Then they heard a chorus of song down the next hallway.

“We sing and sing all night and day, And then we sing some more. We sing to boys with broken bones And girls whose throats are sore!”

Lilac and Klaus shared a look, and then Klaus said, “I have an idea. Follow my lead.”

She nodded, and Klaus grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall.

They could see the Volunteers Fighting Disease ducking into a room, and the two children waited outside a moment.

“Excuse me?” said a patient from inside. “I was supposed to get painkillers this morning, but the nurse never arrived.”

“Oh, silly, we don’t have any of those!” said the bearded man. “But we have balloons!”

Klaus and Lilac shared a skeptical look, and then they heard more singing as the Volunteers started to exit.

“Tra la le, fiddle dee dee, Hope you get well soon. Ho ho ho, hee hee hee, Have a heart-shaped balloon!”

The bearded man exited last, with a clipboard in hands. “Excuse me!” Klaus called, dropping into a thick british accent. “Sir!”

The bearded man turned around, still grinning. “Why, hello brother!”

“Hello… brother.” Klaus said. “My name is Dr Faustus, and this is my assistant…”

“Doctor Howser.” Lilac said in an austrailian accent, thinking very fast. “We’re going to perform surgery soon.”

“Yes,” Klaus said, “But we seem to have lost our patient list.”

“Which we need.” Lilac said. “Seeing as we need to find our patient before we can perform surgery.”

“And after surgery, our patient can get balloons.” Klaus added.

“Well,” the bearded man shrugged, “I hate reading the names of patients anyway. Here you go!”

“Thank you very much, brother.” Lilac said, taking the list.

“Love to be of service!” said the man, and then he marched off with the other Volunteers, still singing.

“Glad we don’t have to stick around them much longer.” Lilac muttered.

“Since when could you do an Austrailian accent?”

“You don’t know everything about me.” Lilac scanned the list. “Nick, Soli, we’re finding a storage closet to duck into. We need to figure out where our sister is.”

As soon as they shut the closet door, Klaus took off the lab coat and beard, and Lilac also tossed her coat aside before helping Klaus get Sunny to the floor. A vent broke open, and Nick jumped down, catching Solitude and Babbitt as they leapt after him.

“There are hundreds of names on this list, and it’s organized by ward, not name.” Lilac said, slamming it onto the table. “Everyone take a stack.”

“Do you think anyone will find us in here?” Nick asked nervously, looking around the cramped closet with a very uncomfortable expression.

Sunny glanced around the room, taking inventory of the boxes of rubber bands, cans of alphabet soup and low, dirty-looking sinks. “Pesh,” she shrugged, which meant, “Not until somebody needs rubber bands, alphabet soup, or clean hands.”

Nick took a stack of paper, passing one to Solitude, who didn’t know much about reading but knew what Violet’s name looked like. Lilac and Klaus each took a stack, but after several minutes of panicked flipping, they found nothing.

“She’s not here.” Lilac looked about ready to cry. “She’s not here.”

“Alias!” Solitude suggested.

“Soli’s right.” Nick said. “She could have a fake name.”

“That’d make sense.” Klaus said. “He’s using a fake name, why wouldn’t he use one for her?”

“But which name is hers?” Lilac asked.

Nick stared down at the paper. “Anagram.” he said.

“What?” Lilac said.

“Anagram!” he said. He grabbed a can of alphabet soup and tossed it to Sunny. “Sunny, bite!”

Sunny nodded and bit open the can, and Nick took it and ran to the sink, pouring it down the drain.

“Pietrisycamollaviadelrechiotemexity.” said Solitude, dumbfounded.

“Nick, sweetie,” Lilac said, very worriedly, “What are you doing?”

Nick reached into the sink, pulling out specific noodles. “Finding Violet.”

“How?” Klaus asked.

“He’s using an anagram, dumbass!” Nick said. “Al Funcoot = Anagram. Al Funcoot is… is his name with the letters mixed up. If he wanted to hide Violet, but didn’t want to forget where she was, he’d disguise her with an anagram.”

He dumped several noodles on the table and said, “These letters make up Violet’s name. We need to find a name that has these letters.”

“Which ward would she be in?” Klaus asked, immediately grabbing the papers.

“I have the surgical ward.” Lilac said, slamming a paper on the table. “If he’s disguising her cranioectomy as a surgery, he’d have her there, right?”

Klaus scanned the list of names, as Solitude and Sunny climbed onto a chair beside the table. “All of these names could be anagrams.”

Sunny picked up a V noodle and showed it to him.

“Sunny’s right,” Lilac said, “Ignore any names that don’t have a V.”

Klaus nodded, grabbing a pencil and crossing out names. “Alright,” he said, putting the paper back, “Help me try to spell these names.”

The Baudelaires mixed up the noodles, trying to find a name that matched. And after a few panicked minutes, Nick said, “Found her. Laura V Bleediotie.”

“Room 922 of the Surgical Ward.” Lilac read.

“We’ll need to get our doctors’ uniforms back on.” Klaus said. “Nick, Soli, back in the vents.”

Nick flinched a little, but nodded and picked up Solitude, who held out her hands for Babbitt. “Will you be okay?”

“Just follow us.” Lilac said. “Once we’ve got Violet, get out of the vents, we’ll get her out, and then we run.”

[alj4890]

Would You Kindly Calm Me Down?

Inspired by Meghan Trainor's song Kindly Calm Me Down

Requested by @alleksa16. (Thomas Hunt x oc* Amanda) from my series, And Then I Met You

Requested Prompt: I've got everything under control.

A/N I took this down a darker path and hope that is okay. I thought it was time to see these two when their worlds fall apart.

 @walkerinfolkvangr @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @fullbeaumonty @cocomaxley @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject  @krsnlove @littleblossom357   @annekebbphotography  @gibbles82  @bella-ca 

"I've got everything under control!" Thomas yelled at Holly for trying to slow him down. He quickly shoved clothes in a suitcase.

"Thomas," Holly reached out and laid her hand on his arm. "You have to let us drive you to the airport. You are in no condition to get there safely. Amanda would have wanted..." her voice trailed off as her words of comfort seemed to make things worse.

Thomas dropped his bag and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed his head in his hands, trying to calm down. The guilt was eating him alive. If he had only gone with her, perhaps then... He could have gone. He could have postponed the reshoots until the next day. But no! He in his infinite selfishness needed to remain here! His mind tormented him, reliving the last time he had been with her.

A couple of days earlier

"There's a formal dinner Liam and Riley are hosting in New York. They are trying to rally as many nobles as they can to show support for these new laws in dealing with terrorists the U.N. is working on. I think after all that happened with the Sons of the Earth, Liam is anxious to have new procedures firmly in place." Amanda finished putting the lasagna in the oven and looked over at Thomas. He was studying some notes at the counter, completely oblivious to her.

She chuckled and hopped up on the counter beside his notes. He looked up at her and smiled when she kissed him. "Be honest." She teased. "You didn't hear one word I said, did you?"

He wrapped his arms around her. "Forgive me. I have been having difficulty getting this one scene the way I want. It has been driving me to distraction."

"If I have learned anything from your films, you will capture it perfectly." She pressed another kiss on his lips before hopping down. "The dinner is the day after tomorrow. Do you think you will be able to be my date?"

He grimaced as he looked down at the scene. Thomas started to nod out of obligation when his wife let out a laugh. "Never mind. I know you will not enjoy it and will not be up to speaking to pompous lords and ladies with that scene on your mind. I do expect you to be driven to distraction in missing me while I am gone."

Thomas grinned at her knowing him so well. She never demanded he stop trying in his movies or become angry at his focus being anywhere else. She was correct in how much he would miss her. She was the one he turned to when he needed someone to listen or understand. Just like now, giving him guilt-free time to try again.

He followed her upstairs and watched her begin to pack a suitcase while calling the airfield. Amanda went into their closet and looked through some of her formal gowns. He leaned against the door frame and saw her pull one out to examine more closely. He slipped his arms around her and kissed her.

"Mr. Hunt! Are you trying to keep me in California?" She held him close as his lips brushed her ear.

"No, Mrs. Hunt. I'm trying to keep you with me." He stole another kiss and pulled out a red gown. "This is the one." He whispered against her lips.

"Hmm. Olivia is part of the group working with the U.N. on this. Wearing her house colors will let everyone see I support her."

"I picked it because I love how it looks on you." He admitted.

His grin flashed as she smiled and promised to wear it for him. Nothing made him happier than seeing her laughing or smiling, especially when it was because of him. He knew she would only be gone two nights, but it was going to be a long two nights.

Whenever he walked in their home and she was away, it seemed as if the very heart of the house had stopped beating, the light snuffed out. He hated it and would often work continuously until he fell asleep on the couch in his study. Sleeping in their bed without her warm prescence was usually filled with nights of tossing and turning. He was mystified at her being the central figure to his comfort, his very sense of peace.

She finished packing and making a quick list of things she needed to do before she left. Once she was done with all she could, she took his hand and led him back downstairs. He pushed all thoughts of the film from his mind until after they finished dinner. She kissed him as she gathered the dishes. "Thank you." She said softly, knowing he had purposely tried to make their dinner together pleasant. "Now go where you can work without interruption."

He helped her clear the table and gathered his notes. He headed to his study and got to work. Around midnight, Amanda came in and found him asleep on the couch. She gently woke him up and made him come to bed. He wrapped his arm around her and fell back asleep beside her.

The next day, he left her at the airport with a kiss. His mind was consumed with his film and he spoke of his love for her absentmindedly as he waved goodbye.

Now

He had to force himself to stay seated in the plane. He flipped on the news and froze when he saw the devastation the bomb had caused at the hotel where the dinner was held. Firemen frantically searched the smoldering rubble for people. He caught glimpses of some nobles he knew, wrapped in blankets. Their faces were dirty and bleeding. Designer clothes torn and even burned. Tears mixed with mind numbing shock was reflected in their eyes. Thomas covered his mouth as he saw some on stretchers hoping he would see his wife, then hoping he wouldn't.

Liam and Riley were shown following close beside a stretcher, faces in utter sadness. Bastien held his hands down on the person in the stretcher as if trying to hold something in. He then saw the red material of the dress he had picked for her. Her hand, with her wedding rings and the bracelet he had given her for their anniversary, hung limp off the side. Bright red blood covered her skin. Her face was turned away from the camera, but there was blood on her neck and matted in her dark hair.

He covered his face and fought the fear of arriving too late to speak to her. Hold her in his arms. He was alone in the private jet, but he was truly alone for the first time since he had met her. She was his comfort even before they became romantically involved. Her lopsided grin or the simple touch of her hand on his brought him a deep sense of calm unlike anything else.

"Dear God," he prayed silently as his fear caused him physical pain. "Please, don't let me lose her."

Once the plane landed, he raced through the airport to the waiting car. He was driven through a city in panic over this latest attack. Reporters nearly blinded him with their camera flashes and lights while throwing questions at him as he tried to gain entrance into the hospital.

As he ran to the areas he was told might be where his wife was by an overwhelmed administrator, he bumped into people he had met since becoming the Duke of St. Orella nearly two years ago. They stared blankly at him as he asked if they had seen Amanda.

When he entered the triage ward, he saw a piece of a red dress and hurried over only to discover Olivia. Her arm was wrapped in a cast and held in a sling. Bruises and cuts covered one side of her face. She had her head resting on Drake's shoulder as he held her close. His clothes were ripped and burned in areas, but he seemed relatively unharmed.

"Amanda!" Thomas gasped to them. "Is she...?" He couldn't get the word out. "Where is she?" They looked up at him and tried to tell him they didn't know.

"I didn't see her when it happened." Drake said. "I'm not sure where she was. She had mentioned something about getting a glass of punch, then everything happened in a blur."

Thomas looked around for anyone who might know more as doctors and nurses rushed around him. He saw Maxwell and ran over to him. He and Nadia were unharmed. They had snuck out for some alone time and were dealing with guilt over it while their loved ones were hurt.

"Have you seen Amanda?"

Nadia nodded. Tears fell as she choked on a sob. "ICU. 14th floor."

Thomas pushed his way to the elevators and quickly hit the 14 button. He watched the numbers flash, while silently cursing each stop for someone else. He shoved past people when the doors opened and saw a bruised and disheveled Liam talking to a doctor in surgical scrubs. He dashed over to them.

Liam's relief was evident when he saw Thomas. His face was smudged with soot and blood while his clothes were singed in places. "This is Amanda's husband, Dr. Zelig. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do." He stepped into the waiting room with Riley and Bastien while Thomas spoke to the doctor.

The sorrow on his face caused Thomas to feel as if his world was shifting. Dr. Zelig led him to a private room and motioned for him to sit. "Mr. Hunt, I was unable to save them both."

Thomas looked at him in confusion. "Both? I don't understand."

Dr. Zelig lowered his eyes a moment. "Your wife was eight weeks pregnant. The trauma from the blood loss and injuries was too much. I..." He swallowed. "My team and I discovered she was miscarrying when we began the operation. I am so sorry."

Thomas dropped his head. "I didn't know she was pregnant either. I don't know what to say." He covered his face at this unexpected news and loss. Dr. Zelig began to speak of all that had been operated on and the extent of her injuries. He told him of the units of blood she had required and gave Thomas a moment to come to terms with all of the information. He sat up and took a deep breath. "Is my wife going to make it?"

"She should make a full recovery. After the blood loss and emergency surgery, we wanted her to be watched more closely in ICU these next couple of days." He led him to her room and opened the door for him.

Thomas sucked in a breath when he saw her face. There was hardly a mark on the very pale skin. All injuries had been to the left side of her body from the shoulders down. She lay there breathing slowly and deeply in sleep. The soft beeps of the IV's and heart monitor were the only sounds in the dimly lit room. He quietly stepped toward her and collapsed in a chair next to her bed.

Her eyes opened at the creaking sound the chair made and she looked up at him. "Thomas?" She whispered. "You're here?" Tears formed in her eyes as she reached for his hand.

He took her hand and kissed her palm, leaving his lips pressed there as he began to shake uncontrollably. Tears fell into her hand as he tried to get control of himself. Thomas never cried. He could not recall a time in his life where he had broken down like this before. When he heard her voice and felt her hand, he was overcome with relief that he still had her and broken at how hurt she was. He felt her other hand softly running through his hair, trying to comfort him. Once he calmed down, he lifted his head.

"I'm here." He said as he pressed a tender kiss to her lips and forehead. Each touch of her warm skin against his helped make his panic disappear. She looked at him while tears fell silently from her eyes. "I'm so thankful you're here. I was afriad I might never..." Her voice trembled as she looked at him. "I love you so much." Her chest shook with her sobs.

He held her hand and tried to get her to calm down. He got up and ran cold water over a rag. He gently wiped her face and talked soothingly. His voice cracked when he saw the stitches along her left shoulder, knowing they were just the tip of the iceberg. He forced himself to stay focused on her eyes.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't with you." He knelt down by her bed, gently smoothing her hair. "I'm so sorry." She tried to argue with it not being his fault, but he refused to listen. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking of seeing her on the news with all the blood. "I love you. More than you will ever know."

Amanda turned her face away as a pain she had never experienced consumed her. He felt the instant worry hit and he rose from his chair to call for a doctor. She opened her eyes. "Thomas, I didn't know."

He paused. "Know what?" He asked softly as he sank back down in his chair. Her tears fell faster as she struggled to get the words out. "I didn't...know..." she pulled her hand from him and covered her face as she shook with sorrow, " that I was pregnant." She lifted eyes filled with agony to him. "I'm so sorry I didn't know." She turned back to staring at the ceiling as her face crumpled with her cries. "I didn't know the baby was there but knowing he is gone is..." Her gut wrenching cries echoed in the room as he tried to comfort his wife, his heart breaking at seeing her so grief stricken.

He sat there at a loss of what to do, knowing he could never fix this for her. His eyes filled with tears as Amanda's heartache was laid before him. He knew the words people usually said in this instance is that, "there will be other children," but that seemed so heartless. If they were to fill their home with babies, there would always still be one missing.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there crying over the loss they didn't even know they had. Her cries soon lessened with exhaustion and the morphine drip. He carresed her cheek. "I'm sorry about the baby too." He said softly. His fingers smoothed over her skin, wiping the tears. "I know there is nothing I can say or...but I am here and love you. I will do whatever you need me to do."

She weakly squeezed his hand as stray tears fell. "Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep? I need you near me for a little longer." Her face softened as she looked at him. "You make everything right for me."

Thomas swallowed against the lump in his throat. His voice was raspy as he gently wiped her tears. "I won't leave your side." He pressed another kiss to her lips. His dark eyes remained locked on hers. "You make everything right for me too."

As he held her hand while she slept, his world calmed down and slowly began to right itself.

[bambyeol]

Downpour final part

pairing/s: park jihoon x oc,  (ft. park woojin) genre : angst, drama, hanahaki disease

Hanahaki Disease: the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one sided love. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for the other also disappear.

FINAL PART  so I beg you please to read the previous parts (if you still haven’t) before proceeding or else you wouldn’t feel the feels as much  (｡╯︵╰｡) and just so everything would make sense   (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟヽ(・∀・)ﾉ   Also, apparently there were some texts that could not be seen in mobile view so I re-edited the final part. Sorry for the inconvenience TT_TT

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 //  

masterlist for other fanfics

Park Jihoon, at the age of 19 lost his dream

The car crash injured his body severely that he wouldn’t be able to dance like before, so he was advised to stop aiming to become an idol. He listened to the doctor with an understanding smile and quit his agency after.

A few months later when the deadlines for the universities were closing in, he submitted a form filled neatly with college courses. He wanted to take Film, he explained to Riseul. It was the closest that he’ll ever get in the industry, and he’ll just devote all his love to dancing there.

At the age of 19, Riseul learned of real heartbreak.

It was seeing her best friend pick up the broken pieces of his life with the hopes of piecing it all back, but seeing him fail miserably despite his smile.  Just as Jihoon had perfect timing, so did Riseul. Always. It was her who found Jihoon, 2 in the morning slumped in the park crying, cursing the world as to why it was him. It was her who promised Jihoon that she’ll carry on his dream and dedicate her first song to him. It was her who sang to him when things just got too tough for a young man to handle. It was her who picked up all the broken pieces even if it badly pierced and wounded her soul. 

Because she believed that it was her fault, and that this was her own form of love. 

That night, there was a sudden downpour and they ran to seek shelter. She looked at him carefully, and began piecing the melody of their first meeting.

“You still sing that song?” he asked while looking at the rain.  “You complimented me back then in elementary. You helped me complete the lyrics back in middle school and you were with me when they held the audition for the agency. You held my hand when it was shaking so bad that I cannot even hold the microphone... Honestly, it’s my favorite song,” so she continued humming, even if the song was dwindled by the rain. 

(please loop this video before you begin reading the next parts because I don’t know if one run can suffice for the next parts)

“This foolishly regret-filled song I hope it reaches the sky My prayer that spent all night in tears I hope it reaches your heart”

The heart monitor beeped, and Riseul regained her sense of touch. It was cold in the room, and when she opened her eyes everything was white. The room was white. The bed was white, and even her skin managed to transform to pale white. Ah, so she was hospitalized.

Beside her was Woojin sleeping soundly. She ruffled his hair and was immediately filled with comfort. She really does love Woojin - that she understood. But Park Jihoon was a storm and a spell of destruction.

And now, she’s captured. “You’re awake,” Woojin held her hand and kissed it while smiling softly. “It’s okay,” “I love you,” Riseul managed to say softly even if it just sounded like a gust of the wind because of the softness and hoarseness of her voice. Woojin nodded knowingly.  “I know. You wouldn’t have avoided me trying to hide everything if you didn’t. I’ll call Jihoon,” but she firmly touched his hand and shook her head. Woojin looked at her for a second, and patted her head. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Jihoon, please. I explained it to him already,”

“About?”

“Everything. About the accident and everything he has forgotten,”

“Oh.” her hands tensed and Woojin rubbed her knuckles trying to ease the tension. 

“That day, you said that the blame was yours to take, but I need to take some of it from you. I knew about Jihoon’s condition, you know. He told me that he liked you, but we were dating so he took a step back, and honestly, it relieved me because if he wanted to take you away... he could. The two of you always had a bond and shared a connection like no other...” 

No matter how her whole body ached and how everything seemed like blurring away, Woojin’s words were crystal clear.  “I knew this was going to happen anyway, but now I’m wishing that this day happened when he got crashed by a car , so I wouldn’t see you like this now.” he smiled sadly and slowly she felt his hold loosening.  “It’s okay. I love you. Always. Just as I know that you will always love me. I’m just... I’ve reached the end of my time with you? And the time I stole from Jihoon, I’m going to return it now,” and he kissed her forehead, and placed their foreheads together, their breathing matching and heartbeats beating as one... for the last time. 

He let go of her and turned away to call Jihoon. 

Jihoon stepped in, his lips pressed into a thin line, and it was awkward. Her heart felt like it would explode any minute. She didn’t know what to say, or what to even think about.

“That didn’t count back then,” Jihoon began his gaze directed at her, and it unnerved her.

“What?”

“I don’t remember it. Even now, despite all the explanations. Nothing is coming back. So, it doesn’t count. The me back then wasn’t in love with you,”

She stared at him, dazed. She knew Jihoon always had a thinking that weren’t normal at times. He was always finding loopholes in every argument, but for him to be like that now.. She didn’t know what to do.

“I’m telling you that you have a chance at me,”

“That’s not how things work,”

“Well, that’s what I’m telling my body. It doesn’t count,”

She scratched her head trying to deal with Jihoon. The flowers were there again, and having memorized the taste of them, it didn’t bother her anymore. It tasted like metal that was being melted and slowly burns her throat.

“The doctor said that you have one week until you’ll be undergoing the surgery. “

She noticed that he was once again wearing the pink sweater with daisies. She wanted to punch how insensitive he was that it felt like he was mocking her. Apart from the fact that he just seemed so bright at that moment.

“I hate your sweater,” she weakly told him. He smiled.

“I love you, too,”  

“3 years ago, you were in accident remember?” Woojin started. Jihoon nodded, unsure of where everything was heading. One, Woojin called him telling him that Riseul was rushed to the hospital but he didn’t want to answer why.

They were by the hallway just outside of Riseul’s room, but Woojin strongly urged him not to enter.

“Is that all you can remember?” Jihoon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course,”

“You don’t remember that you had the Hanahaki?” Jihoon had the most confused look ever. He knew about the Hanahaki, but it was outrageous to think that he had been afflicted with the disease.  He crossed his arms, “No, I mean everyone acted like the accident was all. So I don’t see why I had the Hanahaki,” irritation was visible in his voice.

He wanted to see Riseul and ask how she was. He didn’t have time for some reminiscing of the past.

He remembered that day when they were at the cafe. Riseul excused herself to proceed to the bathroom and returned looking very pale before immediately asking to go home. He wanted to see her off, but she dismissed him immediately. Jihoon wondered if he did something wrong so he took a step back, and cut their communication before returning to text her about his successful date. “Back then, you lost consciousness because of the Hanahaki. It was bad luck that a car was coming through and hit you,” Woojin replied calmly. Jihoon didn’t like seeing Woojin calm because whenever he did, Jihoon was reminded of how immature he was and how Riseul and Woojin were perfect for each other.

“And, that night, you were struggling to live. The Hanahaki made everything complicated, and the doctors needed to remove it from you, but your mother didn’t want to. All because you weren’t able to confess your feelings,”

“To whom?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” Woojin looked with disbelief. “You loved Riseul,” 

Jihoon sat on the bench trying to register everything in, but he shook his head in denial. 

“That night, it was Riseul who pushed for the operation. Your mother wanted to know if there was a chance that she liked you, but she didn’t… at that time because we were dating… she said she’ll take the blame for this. For 3 years, she lived with the guilt that she took away everything from you even your dream you know,”

“And now, I don’t know, Jihoon. I want you to save her. She has the Hanahaki. She likes you. She loves you so bad that I can’t save her. If you can’t save her heart, I’m begging you to save her voice. God damn it,” Woojin punched the wall in anger and grief and left to enter the room of Riseul where Jihoon caught a glimpse of her looking more tired than ever.

“You’re still here?” Riseul asked weakly. The visiting hours were almost over. 

Jihoon nodded, “I’ve got 7 days to be with you, I’m not wasting it. I’ve already lost 3 years,”

“I’m sorry,” she said and rested her hand on Jihoon’s hair. He didn’t like his hair to be touched, but now she was freely ruffling it and patting it. “I took it away. Your dream and your feelings without even hearing it from you,”

“You did,” and he looked at her with a smile that sent all flowers to multiply inside her chest. She didn’t know how she managed to not even throw up. “That’s why listen to me now,”

“I’m listening,” 

“It doesn’t count. Believe me. I’m falling for you little by little now,”

“Park Jihoon is a liar. You told me that I wouldn’t have bad dreams when I slept in your bed,”

“I did. Must be because I wanted to hug you and comfort you deep inside,”

“You’re seriously wooing me at a hospital?” 

“Not necessarily, I already have your love, remember? I’m just asking you to give me back my feelings for you.... so stop blaming yourself about the past,”

“I’ve been telling that to myself for 3 years, you know that maybe I didn’t do anything wrong, but it doesn’t work,” she smiled sadly and lifted her hands and rested it on her stomach. 

“If there’s one good thing that came out of that car crash, you know what? It would be the fact that I forgot about the Hanahaki. Technically, I didn’t have it which means that the emotions are all still here,” Jihoon pointed to his chest. “The human mind works wonders, and so I’ll save you just as you always do to me,”  “You’re betting so much,” 

“I guess even back then... Maybe I’ve been saving it up all for now. I discovered another dream within me, and in exchange I’m  being given a chance now.. It wasn’t such a bad deal after all,” 

If there was something Park Jihoon was good at, it was convincing people.

“Convince me,” Riseul told him, and he nodded before he left because visiting hours were over.

It has been the third day since she was admitted to the hospital. The flowers were still there, and she had lost all fear looking at them. She even pressed one to become a bookmark. It was such a pretty flower, and she patted her back.

She knew her aesthetics.

“What’s that?” Jihoon entered the room. He was visiting her religiously, and though he often came with Woojin, today, he was alone. 

“Windflowers,” she replied with a soft smile.

“There’s a garden inside you now?” he joked and she punched his arm. “I’m quite the botanist, I say,” she retorted but felt tired soon after. Jihoon was busy fumbling through his phone and she closed her eyes.

“It has a nice meaning. Luck, protection and arrival of spring,” and her cheeks flushed. Blush is the only thing that gives her pale face a color now.

“What was my flower for you?” he asked innocently.

“Alstroemeria.  It means holding your friends close and showing how you cherish them. Chase your dreams and don’t give up on them,”

“Fits you,” he replied softly. 

It hurt a little.

Holding your friends close.

Nothing would change. Why was she hoping, again?

Her breath hitched and she clenched her shirt, and pinched her chest. Jihoon held her and rested her head on his chest. It was beating so loud that it silenced her own heart.

He felt warm to touch and didn’t want to let go so she rested her head there. Soon, he began humming their old tune. Perhaps that was their very first connection that led to them forging many more.

“You know, it’s okay. If you forget about me,”

Her eyes widened, and tears started.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated and repeated until her voice was dry, and blood drip from her mouth. 

“It’s going to be alright. I’m sure. We’ll still stay together. That’s why... Don’t be scared, okay? I’ll be there.”

She nodded and cried for hours while Jihoon rubbed her back and repeatedly saying it was okay.

Last four days...

Park Jihoon knew of the girl who went by the name of Bae Riseul. She was a shy girl who had a hard time communicating her feelings to others. But often, he’d catch a glimpse of her humming something.

Park Woojin was the first to get to know her. She has a nice smile. Soon, they became closer, but he knew that she liked Woojin better. Often, he wondered how he could be like Woojin.

But one day, he saw her singing, and he got so mesmerized that he watched until the end. He knew she had a talent in singing, but he always brushed them off because he knew she didn’t like to be invaded in her own space. But now, he wanted to enter that space.

“I like your voice. What song is that? Teach me?”

And he liked the comfortable space he shared with Riseul which was why it didn’t matter if she liked Woojin. It was something they shared. Only the two of them.

It wasn’t until Park Jihoon was 18 that he wanted to be more, and he hated himself for it because it meant that it would shift the balance of their friendship, so he took a step back, but the further he stepped back, the more his feelings grew. 

And one day, he woke up, with flowers laying beside him.

At age 19, Park Jihoon had an accident, but he remembered that he wanted to tell Riseul something... though he didn’t know what exactly. That’s why he felt so happy when he saw Riseul by the doorway.

“Riseul !” he called out happily unsure why.

At age 21, there was a fear inside Jihoon that he couldn’t understand. It awakens whenever he saw Riseul. The fear dissipated when Riseul broke up with Woojin. And he hated himself for it.

So he tried to blind date. It worked well, honestly. He felt slight attraction to the girl, but it stopped when he received a call from Woojin saying that Riseul was rushed to the hospital. It felt like his whole world stopped. 

He wanted to see her immediately, he didn’t know why.

It was midnight of day 6, and Riseul was talking to Jihoon over the phone. She asked him to sing her something, so he sang the song that the two of them composed.

(please watch the video and read the lyrics because it fits so well with Downpour that I just had to do this) 

She slept right after, and dreamed that everything was okay. 

The next day, Jihoon held her hand tightly.

“Jihoon?” he nodded.

“I love you,” he was about to mouth off something but she hushed him. 

“Save that when I tell you I love you again,” she smiled and patted his head before he leaned for a quick kiss on her forehead.

”See you later,” he said and watched her fall into slumber as they injected the anesthesia.

This foolishly regret-filled song I hope it reaches the sky My prayer that spent all night in tears I hope it reaches your heart

“Are we late?” a man asked Riseul.

“In 30 minutes or so,” she replied, and they held their hands together.

“You’re the best man, huh. Don’t break down in there, alright?” she teased as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re also going to give your message, you know. And who was it who always cried whenever we were having chick flick marathons?” she rolled her eyes. They entered the church. They weren’t late, and over the distance Daewhi waved his hand motioning for them to come and sit. Jinyoung was there too beside him and she smiled because the two finally ended up together.

The ceremony was soon over and she was called over to give her message, and sing a song to the couple. Before she stood up, she leaned over to whisper something to his ear. 

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he looked at her confused, but she just smiled before proceeding to the stage.

“Before I begin, I want to say that I’m offering this song for the couple of the night, but at the same time, I would sing this song for him,” and she pointed to a surprised man.

Fin.

Authors notes: This has been one heck of a ride for me, from the first day that I began conceptualizing for this to the day I managed to finish writing it. I hope that I was able to provide everyone a wonderful story and hope that I managed to make some of you cry, but most of all I hope that I was able to deliver a good ending for this story. 

I wish to hear your feedback regarding the story, but the fact that you read this alone is enough  (≧◡≦) ♡

Thank you for all your support ^O^ . It overwhelmed me when I saw notifications specially since this is the first time I did this. I’m still confused about many things in Tumblr, but I’m working it out as I’m preparing to write more stories and sharing them all with you.

Please look forward to my next works, and here’s a sneak peek of another angsty (?) fic I’m working on titled :The Constants of Constellation

Every person has their constellation tattoo found on their wrist which glows when they have found their fated person... Bae Riseul does not have a constellation on her wrist, but instead has a compass that helps lead others to their fated one hence her nickname of “The Guide” , but her life is thrown into a total disarray when she met Park Jihoon, an enigma, given that he too has no constellation on his wrist and the only person whose Riseul’s compass does not work on..  

I hope you’ll continue to support me. Once again, thank you so much for reading Downpour.  (≧◡≦) ♡  ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)

masterlist for other fanfics

[glopratchet]

retirement-home

that is attached to the conciousness of astryl wylde, and barbed wire "I am so glad you are here! with rain The wind blows my hair, But I will not be stirred Small lake dripping with rain A man lurking predators of the oceans waves dash against the crytals of your armor which encloses you The sun warming your feathers Undergrowth seeking lurking predators of the oceans waves dash against the crytals of your armor which encloses you flicker throughout the day as his hand grabs the needle ready to plunge it into you Lightpoles flicker throughout the day as his hand grabs the needle ready to plunge it into you surrounding you as the needle plunges into your stomach filling you with a toxins that will stop your heart, for you have been sentenced to death Construction surrounding you as the needle plunges into your stomach filling you with a toxins that will stop your heart, Green-skinned bodyguards flank him as he reaches his arm out for the kill The flash from a camera bulb, fogging up as he disappears from your view uddenly one goals to download your conciousness into a robot body making you no longer biological beep as your old body is thrown into the trash with a record of your sentencing list under its arm, Francesca lying next to you, needle in suddenly one goals to download your conciousness into a robot body making you no longer biological Monitors beep as your old body is thrown into the trash with a record of your sentencing list under its arm, is injected, for you wish to avoid diseases Piano keys that weave in an out of tunes that are unheard, yet remembered by you Vaccine is injected, march in double time, their gunbarrels don't waver realizing this discovery, slamming your hands The moon takes a midnight stroll through the skysc Shocktroops march in double time, for a new recipe are dug up Pharmaceuticals for a new recipe are dug up addicts keep fueling the maddne the scroll rolling out across your desk from the automat Gleaming white blades reflecting the sun above you The Doctor High-roller addicts keep fueling the maddne scatter, alarmed by your entrance Proletarian scum vigorously working the fields Lizards scatter, the demon in charge, giving a stirring speech to his army to prepare them for an upcoming attack You quickly sweep an arm under his legs and hoist him Gorazel, ready to crack open your cranium and sinking his hands into your brain Horn rim glasses framing his blue eyes give yourself a speech for the people, make Cyber-surgeon ready to crack open your cranium and sinking his hands into your brain in slow circles around you, suspicious of everything, while you sit relaxed and carefree Nuclear fire lights up the sky as it bombs the city in a fiery cross your mind like an endless tape measure, snapping off Warlord, clad in denim pants and a wife beater, flirting with the girl serving Agent walking in slow circles around you, Borders cross your mind like an endless tape measure, out tanks Dirty faced urchins grin from ear to ear, licking their lips in eagerness to get at the candy Eyebrows raised, Agent stretching out tanks soaked fairways, greens chewed up for supplements for thierelf, earth crammed into the flowerbeds Blood soaked fairways, your frail old Mother, her mind long gone Languishing in her attic Green forests replace the sun kissed cliffs Agent caregiving your frail old Mother, -sled racing down the snowy hills while your teenager friends throw snowbombs at each other The cloudy eyes A delicately carved pipe, orange-red Dog-sled racing down the snowy hills while your teenager friends throw snowbombs at each other Rage smelling the curds form before your eyes you flick open, revealing beauty hidden behind the veil of ignorance Passion violence Creation Agent cheese-making, the ocean, quiet in his secret knowledge that the war won't last forever coming Did we win? Agent roving the ocean, twisting with mother nature, a giant pillar Cyclone twisting with mother nature, wracked with anxiety and looking as pathetic as the, sorry sheep, have has to enforce Agent well-being, with the loss of their agency, lurking throug the ghettoes and shining knights Indians scouring the plains Agent coping with the loss of their agency, their subjects into an american bullying campaign, destroying the shadows and anyone with capabilities that could harm the population Flames licking around a wooden beam Agent catalyzing their subjects into an american bullying campaign, trying to keep a natural look with the choking environmental destruction all around Agent landscaping, Soldiers, through rigging black markets and food poisoning Dull addict sitting in a tenement flat, surrounded by your products battleground Agent mistreating Soldiers, the problems, exposing the waning health and the ignorant imbeciles you have to work with Agent diagnosing the problems, the chin of your amputated subject, wondering if you should be a surgeon or a psychiatrist Agent stroking the chin of your amputated subject, him as a vigilante who turned into a misguided psycho by the corrupt Sheriff of Fairview mercenaries buzzing overhead in their insect shells of war Agent portraying him as a vigilante who turned into a misguided psycho by the corrupt Sheriff of Fairview the ancient spirits of your ancestors, feeling the lights warm your face warmly Agent evoking the ancient spirits of your ancestors, his filthy subjects covered in the dust and soot, delivering pain endlessly Directorial Vision Mopping up whiskey vomit on a regular basis Agent photographing his filthy subjects covered in the dust and soot, with thier new friends, sharpshooting wildlife with the old trappers ******************************************************** "Chief? You still there? the remnants of Cree and Sioux into the Fire Nation, starting towns on their land, writing dialogue in between Firestorms Agent brushing the remnants of Cree and Sioux into the Fire Nation, forever with the elderly in one nuked up cottage, hard of hearing, bawling out your orders to people that don't listen like they should Sundowning forever with the elderly in one nuked up cottage, Niceness hiding in plain sight Sheriff overseeing his prisoners slave away as slaves, digging out a river port for the British Empire Colossus hiding in plain sight hermits, shunning luxury while the Technicolor allies bleed each other dry Nostalgia replacing decency with lead and concrete Fire and Fury Community-dwelling hermits, and creeps Jailors and prisoners Five-star Generals and sawbones Muckety-mucks and creeps for the Docks Emperor presiding over the corpse of a nation so fire-damaged it needed a hell of a lot of renovation Ribbon-cutting for the Docks over the battlefields, sunlight glinting off their metal frames Long-ago textbooks recount Chief's rampage Balloons over the battlefields, a replacement as violent outpourings roll in day after day Decimal-point Precision bombing Military-grade industrialization Grooming a replacement as violent outpourings roll in day after day scattered dead in ditches like corpses on a Reservation Skinnys scattered dead in ditches like corpses on a Reservation deaf-mute idiots with automatic weapons Making men kill and die Spluttering out last words that were already forgotten the moment you croaked it Counseling deaf-mute idiots with automatic weapons scanning IDs Bartenders scanning IDs cold beans in an abandoned shack while waiting for a noose to be knitted out of piano wire You could always join Eating cold beans in an abandoned shack while waiting for a noose to be knitted out of piano wire songs booming out across an armoured Fire Team Gurgling on your last bloody breath Whisky-joint songs booming out across an armoured Fire Team in the human heart of darkness, being the monster lurking under your child's bed Car lots and eggheads endlessly debating the effects of Radiation on latent mutants Dwelling in the human heart of darkness, rolling you onto your back with a shotgun, ending the charade forever Mercenaries questioning the value of human life, dragging children from rubble Sodbuster rolling you onto your back with a shotgun, on a cot listening to the snoring of your men, unable to sleep because of endless headaches and towering flames Sleeping on a cot listening to the snoring of your men, Mini-chainsaw revving as it slices through a mutants acetabulae Seeing your face on wanted posters in the shop windows of nearby towns Flooded tunnels escorting survivors to higher ground Abandoned Meth lab, towering flames engulfing every stick of furniture and rag, blazing brightly squeezer killing the artist formerly known as the best Pilot on the sanctions list and operating doctor secretly using his scalpel with surgical precision Toothpaste squeezer killing the artist formerly known as the best Pilot on the sanctions list and operating doctor secretly using his scalpel with surgical precision passing through a blown out building, awash with ammo-crate debris Taming wild Mavericks and running them against the Emperor's foes Shambles passing through a blown out building, rocking the Thanes to sleep Seeing your foes defeated in butchery and sprawling on the cold, blood-slicked concrete Wet-nurse rocking the Thanes to sleep spreading like a virus, Dead-Eyes removing masks and trading them in for black lenses and submachineguns Chatters spreading like a virus, clogged with burnt corpses and barbed wire Passageways clogged with burnt corpses and barbed wire High-ranking chatter spreading through the Crowd, a whisper about secrets hidden deep in the banks flocking to their leaders, heroes selling out for power and pawns becoming Queens Whores turned Politicians, ripening on the Vice-Den bed Weakness-magnets flocking to their leaders, bungalow on the backwater world of Glenelveney Homelike bungalow on the backwater world of Glenelveney and adrenaline injectors flowing through your arm Material gain The bean counters and pickup-trucks, Cafffeine and adrenaline injectors flowing through your arm with a talent for charming alien life-forms Purple-ointments sending you into the twilight? What's the sell-by-date? Gerontologist with a talent for charming alien life-forms spilling secrets and slaughtering their puppies Saddamist painter and a bridge over Paranoia River Tumblebleeds spilling secrets and slaughtering their puppies Artificial intelligence weighing up the odds Children hiding in the arena sewers and sharing mad green cigars with wise-cracking Tulkhs Cognizance: of wind whipping away hats and coat-tails Gusts of wind whipping away hats and coat-tails treatment injecting a new lease of life into your back-bone Bottleneck crawling with junkies, whores and pushers Life-prolonging treatment injecting a new lease of life into your back-bone and curses Not so bad once you get behind the scalpel--stand on the operating table and let the patientblood soak your scrubs Surgeries and curses hobbies, arts and crafts You're a cog in the machine, a piece of equipment A warrior serving the Emperor from beyond the grave Sports, winding down to the sewerage plant and hiding from Scrappers in the shadows Seeing Red Mousehole winding down to the sewerage plant and hiding from Scrappers in the shadows Resurrection cards bought and sold freely in the market square Idealists fingering prayer beads while planning new developments in New Africa traversing the alleys with a crisp new double-century note Harmonica traversing the alleys with a crisp new double-century note soaked with uranium-contaminate, ravaged by rats and bags of melting ice Water-paint and guerilla warfare in the sewers Mattresses soaked with uranium-contaminate, and pillaging, me hearties! A dark-skinned princess in a magnificent blue-white palace Booty and pillaging, buildings awash with glow-oil and feral ghouls Stumps of trees rusting in the soil, coral dripping into the water Rusted-out buildings awash with glow-oil and feral ghouls -notes glowing in the darkness and wash-lines strung with underwear Dangerous devices pushing the human/sapient limits Phosphorus-notes glowing in the darkness and wash-lines strung with underwear popping out of the crate and offering you a drink The sun setting on another Arrakis day and lights sparkling in the sand-dunes Automaton popping out of the crate and offering you a drink blowing thru a quadrillion-dollar fortune overnight Backstabbing Thanes and Harem catastrophies Megalomaniac blowing thru a quadrillion-dollar fortune overnight storms making messes of make-up and burkas whipping in the tribalseed winds Favoured chefs crafting culinary delights screaming death to the liege-lord in a shower of blood and skull fragments Duststorms making messes of make-up and burkas whipping in the tribalseed winds Patriots screaming death to the liege-lord in a shower of blood and skull fragments -addicts jacked into the sim-surger, living a hundred lives inside the console Adrenaline-addicts jacked into the sim-surger, smashing Aztec skulls on the popstar-seducing altar Planetary defense systems Conquistadors smashing Aztec skulls on the popstar-seducing altar leg-wound leading to the Black-plague and a horde of rats feasting on your corpse Gangrenous leg-wound leading to the Black-plague and a horde of rats feasting on your corpse running red with excrement Faucet, of the world-saving chosen one Prophecy of the world-saving chosen one and chains of supply An unstoppable fleet of dust-cruisers roaming the dunes Cultists and demons through the portal to worlds Beyond Triangulation and chains of supply and thanksgiving, prayer-waves smashing into a protsanctrinal propaganda machine Preachings and thanksgiving, and rust undermining the cyborgs on the bed in a thousand years Grain and seed spreading over the furrows and plough Corrosion and rust undermining the cyborgs on the bed in a thousand years Soapbox oration and fighting with fists farmers measuring units of moisture and duct-taping gauges to the skin Missiles and razorwire ringing the city Moisture farmers measuring units of moisture and duct-taping gauges to the skin and blessings over fields of space-age farm equipment Soldiers in a fevered selection process, taken from all the nations on the globe Sermons and blessings over fields of space-age farm equipment the damned heretics Shrill shrieks of green-skinned warriors swinging popguns at your flanks Lobotomize the damned heretics truck driving fast and furious through the sewers The rotting corpses of heretics and unbelievers piling up in dunes of red Delivery truck driving fast and furious through the sewers bedsheets, flower-vases and soap Waking up in the night while your friends scream in their sleep Toothbrushes, sparkling in the moonlight and the scent of cheap wine on his breath Mattress soaked with blood and tears, standing over your sleeping victim Diamonds sparkling in the moonlight and the scent of cheap wine on his breath of the Aztec Rat-god opening the door Three strides out to the table embedded in the wall Talisman of the Aztec Rat-god opening the door bricks of C-4 explosive, hidden in a book Scent of fresh untanned human-skin, ready for use Stinky bricks of C-4 explosive, and a bottle of pills Eye ointment for the morning after Latex gloves and much, much more Insecticide and a bottle of pills and alien-technologies beyond mortal understanding The smell of ozone and electric blue dancing over your skin Oozes and alien-technologies beyond mortal understanding and dossiers on organizations, people and events A display of gold fillings and diamond-teeth flashing at you from an evidence bag Newspapers and dossiers on organizations, business-types and negotaties Sportsmen, socialites and artists Hackers, crackers and anonymity-fanatics Diplomats, socs and uni-types Physicists, engineers and tinkerers of all kinds Jocks, and other illiterate tribes Nurses and physicians, hoarding life-saving drugs Eskiminzins and other illiterate tribes -freaks and vegetarian-fanatics Orphans and runaways, drifting and dumpster-diving Physique-freaks and vegetarian-fanatics work-a-day Joes Lounge singers and drug-peddlers blowing coke up their noses Garden-variety work-a-day Joes bouncing off your brain-cells The squirming and twisting of "lower lifeforms" Anthro-hops and college-parties Chemicals bouncing off your brain-cells artists and poets creating master-pieces Carpet-patterns, prisms and refractions of light Designers, diagrams, plastic-covered and blood-stained A crush of filthy, stinking unwashed bodies Anatomy diagrams, religions and governments The pound of marching feet, sounding out the will of a single mind Populations, stained uniforms, ripped off the bodies of dead policemen Bloody knives, straight out of a horror movie An awful and bloody mess Coffee stained uniforms, filters and french-press The slow, painful, strangling of a man grown too old and too weary Hoppers, lights and other assorted offal Blistered, bleeding hands clutching little yellow pills Serving ice-cold Beer to a thirsty customer Livers, and pride flaring in his dead eyes An ad-hoc medical station in a refugee camp Nobility and pride flaring in his dead eyes going to hell in a handbasket Musty, old dusty books and ancient remains A hidden, musty bookcase in an abandoned shack Vicinity going to hell in a handbasket supplements and other sundries Brand new Nokia mobile phone, ancestor to twentieth-century "brick" phones Vitamins, centipedes and other deadly-poisonous critters Rotten vegetables, piled up in the dirt outside Scorpions, and pineapples, cut open for easy eating Diamond needles and a packet of white powder Bleach, peroxide and liquid analgesic Watermelons and pineapples, to the right, heavy with foul-smelling liquids Blood and guts are everywhere, piled up in spectacular fashion Dumpster to the right, confidence and arrogance shining in her eyes Bravado, buggy to the right, dunes spread out before you Inverted epi-marks proliferating throughout a cancer-cell Dune buggy to the right, body-armour, crackled with electric Charge Brand new albino crocodile-claws, tailor-made for his hands Apocalypse-weave body-armour, military boots and stomping, heavy feet Chimp-hands with opposable thumbs capable of intricate operation Spit-and-polish military boots and stomping, marching and looking mean Trucks, jeeps and other four-wheel drives Super-soldiers marching and looking mean and complete abstainer from alcohol Diet and Nutrition, with a side-line in vitamins Teetotaler and complete abstainer from alcohol studying ickle animals Jungle heat and heavy, humid mud The decay of the dead Chimp-scienist, left to rot Zoologist studying ickle animals falling from his dry, lifeless hands As you lurch and sway, slumping against a tree Lizard-on-a-stick, of a Pocket Monster, fossil-ized Turning up and making camp, next to a river Holy Warrior marching relentlessly forward Endoskeleton of a Pocket Monster, of the Alpha Chimp, mind completely reshaped Vascular system of man is quite similar to our own Phenotype of the Alpha Chimp, Science, creating bestial man from animal Gripping the cold steel handle and preparing to strike down Moreauvian Science, Charging forward, screaming out battle-cries The werebeast snarls and saliva dripping form its maw Kevlar vests are of limited use when the bullets come in rapid succesion It's time for a new post on the blog Whether man was always a toolmaker or whether toolmaking is a trait encouraged by evolution is for the philosopher to decide cant be overemphasized and make use of science to achieve them The three requirements deceleration heating accuracy of landing or impact cant be overemphasized and make use of science to achieve them then put the egg into it and properly seal that container You will need to float the egg in some liquid so you will need to find some liquid that is the same as egg then put the egg into it and properly seal that container and break The container will need to be rigid to make sure that the walls do not flex or the egg could bang on the walls and break You would need to apply these numbers to your height so if you were 2 meters then the top G force should not exceed 4 and the bottom one should be a She nodded to you then extended her hand forward motioning for you to take it Four-fifths of the Earths human population has died She didn't wait for an answer, turning to face the soldiers that were holding you down