#we need to set up some sort of protocol for when gorgeous gorgeous people come in. like for example how do i subtly ice my cheeks

[fingertipsmp3]

Guy who looked like he should be a fairytale prince came into the cafe yesterday and I have never wished I knew how to flirt more

[kuroopaisen]

takes one to know one || fushiguro megumi

➵ megumi just wants to buy some flowers from the nice stall attendant he definitely doesn’t have a crush on in peace. gojou has other plans.  

wc: 2.4k

warnings: gn!reader, incoherent chaos

a/n: gracie dearest this one’s for you :( you are so sweet and so lovely to me and i’m so, so glad we met in this hellscape (i would personally like to thank psycho-pass for existing) i hope i did your boy well! 

By the time he arrives at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi knows the flowers are a mistake.

“For me?” Gojou gasps, hands clasped and mouth agape in perhaps his most punchable smile. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

Megumi’s fist tightens around the handle of his bouquet. Today, it’s lilacs, irises and white lilies. It’s also much bigger than usual – too big to inconspicuously leave on someone’s fence or place in the school gardens.

“You can have them if you want,” he murmurs. What else is he supposed to do with them?

The delight on Gojou’s face collapses into a precarious mix of genuine confusion and insatiable curiosity. “Hah? They’re not for anyone?”

“No,” Megumi says. And if they were, I wouldn’t tell you. Although he doesn’t say that last part. Gojou would perceive it as a challenge, and the less he knew about Megumi’s private life, the better.

“So…” A grin splits Gojou’s face. “The person you bought them from must be special, then.” 

Megumi freezes for just a second. But he knows a second is enough for Gojou to glean all the information he needs.  

“Ah,” Gojou hums. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” Megumi mumbles, well-aware of the heat rising in his cheeks.

“But why would you go out of your way to buy a bouquet of flowers, hm?” Gojou grins, shit-eating grin back on his face. “They don’t hand these out for free, you know.”

Megumi’s grip is so firm he’s scared he’ll crush the stems.

Although, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them. It doesn’t feel right to throw them out – not when you’d spent time putting it together – but he wasn’t about to revamp his room with a distinctly floral accent.

Is it against social protocol to give the flowers back to you? Not now, of course, but maybe on his evening walk… or tomorrow morning…

He still doesn’t know why he didn’t just walk past you that first day.

But something about the way you were gazing out into the street, eyes wide and hopeful as you watched people ignore you on their daily commute… something about that drew him in.

And once he’d bought something from you once – just a small flower, one he didn’t know the name of, but seemed appropriate behind a cute girl’s ear – he couldn’t very well start ignoring you.

Not when your smile is so bright, your eyes sparkling with gratitude whenever he takes whatever floral arrangement you’ve lovingly bundled together out of your hands.

But now he’s paying the price – in more ways than one.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your flower stall is just a few feet away from one of the trendiest cafes in this area of Tokyo, and whoever oversees your little operation is obviously trying to capitalise on that. Setting up so early must be an attempt to catch the rush of bleary-eyed corporate workers craving their necessary morning coffee.

What use an office worker has for flowers, Megumi doesn’t know. But he has a feeling that you’d probably say something along the lines of “it’ll help brighten the place up.”

As usual, you’re waiting there patiently, eyes hopefully scanning the streets for any potential customers. Your face positively lights up when you finally catch sight of him – something that still makes Megumi nearly trip over his own feet.

“Good morning!” You call out, waving to him.

Megumi raises a hand in response, shuffling towards you with all the embarrassment of a high schooler on their way to their first date.

“Can I interest you in a floral arrangement on this fine Saturday morning?” You grin, eyes twinkling as you make your marketing pitch.

“Sure,” Megumi sighs, scanning the vast array of flowers currently on display. He’s getting better at picking them out, but he still can’t name any of them on sight.

You wait patiently, hands folded on the counter. If you think he’s an idiot, you keep it to yourself.

“Those ones,” he says, pointing at a group of blue heart-shaped flowers.

“The morning glories?” You ask reflexively, reaching over to pluck a bunch out of their display.

“Yeah,” Megumi shrugs. He has no idea what a morning glory is. The term sounds like something Gojou and Yuji would snicker at.

“They’re gorgeous,” you smile, taking a moment to admire them.

“Yeah,” Megumi says again.

Flowers aren’t really his thing; God help him if he was ever asked what his favourite kind was. But there’s no point in saying any of that – not when he’s already spent an embarrassing amount of money at this one stall.

“You’re keeping the business afloat, you know,” you giggle, as if reading his mind.

Megumi blinks at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “It wouldn’t be amiss to say you’re our most important patron.” You beam at him, same sparkle in your eyes as always.

He’d be furious, if you weren’t so nice.

How is he supposed to focus when you’re looking at him like that? How’s he supposed to ask who ‘we’ is? A business partner? A partner partner?

But you look so young. You can’t possibly be running a business. But you might have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or both. Or a partner of an otherwise non-binary gender.

Too many questions, no social capacity to ask them.

“So,” Megumi begins, his voice calm and composed as ever. His mind, however, is scrambling around like a fast-food joint at rush hour, trying to string together a sentence that’s not only coherent but also fascinating.

“How old are you?”

Whoops.

It’s the forbidden question. Or, at least, that’s what people always say. People, in this case, is Gojou. It usually is.

You seem unbothered. “I turn seventeen this year.”

Was it only a forbidden question for people who’re older? But in that case, surely knowing someone’s age was pertinent for the whole ‘respect’ thing. Maybe Gojou just didn’t think he should ever ask anyone’s age because then he’s not beholden to honorifics.

But Megumi can’t imagine him using them properly anyway.

That’s not the point. The point is that you’re the same age as him. You weren’t somehow twenty-seven with a baby face.

“Oh,” Megumi nods. “Me too.”

The smile you give him is almost unbearable. How is it even more of a smile than your usual smile? That doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a certain excitement bubbling in his gut that he doesn’t recognise or like.

Wait, if you’re his age, then…

“Do you not go to school on Saturdays?” He asks.

Is this conversation too dry? He’s not sure. He doesn’t usually make an effort at this sort of thing.

“My school doesn’t have classes on Saturday mornings,” you smile, meticulously wrapping brown paper around the stems of a set of particularly bright morning glories. You always do it so delicately; where on earth do you find the patience?

There’s something… graceful, about how you go about it. Sure, it’s your job, but Megumi still enjoys watching you work because—

“Hello there!”

Megumi knows that voice.

Oh no.

“Hello!” You fold your hands in front of you and give your new customer a bow. But your usual smile has been replaced with an expression of middling confusion as you look him up and down.

Megumi doesn’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind him.

“Who’d’ve thought there’d be so many kinds of flowers in bloom, huh?” Gojou grins, slinging a lanky arm around Megumi’s shoulders.

Megumi glances to the side.

A pair of startingly blue eyes peek at him from behind black shades.

“What are you doing here?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I thought I’d just come out for a morning stroll,” Gojou sighs, gesturing to the sky. “Don’t you think it’s gorgeous?”

Megumi’s ready to commit a murder.

“And look at all these flowers!” Gojou exclaims, bending down to peer at some asters closely. “Did you grow them all yourself?”

“Of course not,” you laugh. “I just sell them.”

Jealous maybe isn’t the right word. But there is a twisting in Megumi’s gut upon the realisation that within minutes of meeting you, Gojou had made you laugh. Megumi, on the other hand, was yet to do that.

“Well, either way, my student is a big fan,” Gojou smirks, shaking Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi’s soul is currently leaving his body.

“I was just telling him that he’s our most valued customer,” you smile, tilting your head at the pair of them.

“Ah, is that so?” Gojou grins. It’s amazing, really, how he manages to capture all the terror of the apocalypse in one smile. “I never really took him as a flower guy.”

“Everyone’s a flower guy, sir,” you tsk, shaking your head. “Even you.”

Gojou places an affronted hand on his chest. “So quick to make assumptions!”

“Not at all,” you smile. “You’d be surprised by what our customer base looks like.”

“You don’t say,” Gojou grins, turning to Megumi.

Megumi considers the consequences of punching Gojou right in the nether regions. He doubts he’d be punished for it by the higher ups; if anything, he’ll probably be rewarded. Maybe even pushed up a grade for his invaluable service.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh no.

Megumi’s eyes widen ever so slightly. His head whips round to Gojou. His teacher is already looking straight at him.

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “I told Yuji to meet me here this morning.” The glint in his eyes strikes terror right through Megumi’s departing soul.

Sure enough, Itadori barrels his way towards them, damn near colliding against Megumi with a ‘thump’.

Megumi can do something but stare into the abyss, hoping, wishing, praying this is just a nightmare.

Unfortunately, it’s not.

You give the newest addition to this strange little posse a customary bow. “Good morning!”

Itadori beams at you, his entire face lighting up. “Good morning!”

A strange panic starts to rise from Megumi’s gut. If he thought about it, you and Itadori would get along well. Too well.

Thoughts of you and Itadori walking hand in hand down the street as you laugh, Itadori offering you his coat on a clod morning as you blush, Itadori walking you home, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as you lean towards him and –

Megumi blinks the thoughts away. What is wrong with him today?

You and Itadori have just met. And what was it to Megumi anyway? It’s not like he—

“Megumi?” Itadori tilts his head at him.

Megumi stares back blankly. “Hm?”

“I wanted to know how you found this place,” Itadori asks, voice bright but with the uncertain quality inherent to repeating oneself.

“Oh,” Megumi murmurs. “Well, I…”

In truth, he doesn’t remember. He just saw you one morning and decided to approach. He still doesn’t know why. But he doesn’t regret it.

“I roped him in with my charm,” you piqued up, picking up the lull in conversation.

Try as he might, Megumi just can’t concentrate. Itadori’s pressed against him, Gojou’s still got his arm slung around his shoulder, and—

“Ah, Nobara’s here!” Gojou beams, waving a hand over his head.

“What are you doing here of all places?” Nobara frowns, raising an eyebrow at Megumi. “I wouldn’t have taken this as your sort of scene.”

If there’s a hell, Megumi’s sure it’s this.

Conversation is bubbling around him but none of it is registering in his mind, he can see Nobara’s dissatisfied look as she takes in the situation at hand but he doesn’t have the energy to retort, Gojou is playing with the petals of one of the display flowers but Megumi knows he’s not going to buy it and—

“Hey, Megumi?”

He snaps back to reality at the sound of your voice, gentle and concerned.

“Are you alright?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. It’s as if you’re completely ignoring the rabble, as if you see him and only him.

Next to him Gojou, Yuji and Nobara watch with rapt attention.

“Yeah,” he lies. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

You frown at you look at him. Something flashes in your eyes and you suddenly duck beneath your countertop.

Megumi and his gaggle of fools blink in surprise.

In a moment you hop back up, something purple bundled up in your hands. “Here,” you smile, handing it out to him, “this is supposed to help you sleep.”

One whiff and he knows it’s lavender.

“How much?” Megumi asks.

You shake your head. “Oh, no. It’s on me.”

Megumi’s heart flutters as you smile. Despite the chaos going on around him, despite the fact that he knows he’s going to be mocked for this for weeks to come, he’s grateful.

Somehow.

“Sorry about this…” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Megumi feels Gojou chuckle quietly, his chest rattling. Itadori is unusually quiet and Nobara seems moments away from a laughing fit.

“I should go,” Megumi says quickly and suddenly. He doesn’t give you time to respond, zipping down the street as fast as his feet can carry him. He needs a shower and then a run and then he needs to beat a training dummy up and then—

“Wait, Megumi!”

He freezes in his tracks. That’s… your voice.

And around his wrist is… is…

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, eyes darting for where you hand wraps around his wrist. Why is his heart racing so absurdly fast? Why does it feel like his head’s about to explode? You’re just holding his wrist. You’re not even touching his skin. Not that it matters—

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You ask, not quite able to meet his gaze.

It brings him back to the moment.

“Of course,” Megumi answers reflexively.

You finally lift your eyes up. They seem to be sparkling. “I look forward to it.”

Before he even has time to process it you’ve let him go and trotted back to your stall, tending to your flowers as if nothing’d happened.

This has been too much embarrassment for one day. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on and he’s not sure he wants to know. But man, he needs at least several hours alone to process everything.

As Megumi shuffles away, Gojou bounds after him, still grinning like a fool.

“So, Megumi’s got himself a—”

Megumi elbows him in the stomach before Gojou even has a chance to finish his sentence.

[storiesforallfandoms]

the wrong time to flirt ~ pete davidson

word count: 1266

request?: yes!

“Can you write a Pete Davidson fluff. A medical intern goes to SNL and Pete sees her right away and takes her one a date.”

description: with new restrictions in place due to an ongoing pandemic comes the need for medical assistance on set, including a pretty medical intern that catches his attention

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of the current pandemic

masterlist

Pete was beyond excited to get back to work on SNL. Besides his Netflix special being released, the lockdown was the longest and most boring time of his life. He was itching to get back to work, and back to some semblance of normalcy.

Of course, with working during a pandemic came some new safety protocols. When not on set or filming, the actors were to keep a mask on, as were the crewmates at all times. If anyone had even one symptom they were forbidden from coming in, and everyone was made to take a test for the virus once a week.

It was a tiring process, and Pete had o admit that it was taking the fun out of going to work.

Luckily for him, on one particular day, he was paired with a new medical intern for his daily medical run through. She couldn’t be much older than him, if she was even close to his age at all, and she was absolutely gorgeous even with her mask on.

“Wow,” he blurted as he approached her. She raised an eyebrow at him and Pete could see her eyes crinkle from a smirk. “Sorry, I meant to say hello, I haven’t seen you before.

“Oh yeah, that sounds so close to what you actually said,” she teased. “I’m the new intern. Today is my first day going through the pandemic guidelines on my own.”

“Well, it’s my lucky day then.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes before looking back down at the clipboard in her hands. “Name?”

Pete was shocked. “Seriously?”

She looked back up at him, expectantly. “Name?”

He sighed and responded, “Pete Davidson.”

“And your role on the show?”

“Seriously?!”

Pete could see her smile through her mask and her shoulders shake as she giggled. “Okay, okay. The usual questions then: have you been anywhere with an influx of cases? Have you been to any parties or large gatherings? Have you been in contact with anyone who has tested positive?”

“No, no, and I’d surely hope not.”

She made notes on her clipboard before placing it aside and standing from her chair. She motioned for Pete to sit. “Pull your mask down to uncover your nose and tilt your head back slightly.”

Pete mentally groaned. He had totally forgotten it was testing day.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he joked as he followed her instructions.

The intern raised an eyebrow at him as she pulled on a pair of gloves. “You really think now is a good time to flirt? When I’m about to shove a cotton swab so far up your nose it’s essentially tickling your brain?”

“Not my best idea,” Pete admitted out loud. “But I’ll say anything to relieve the stress I’m feeling right now.”

She took the testing swab in her hand and helped Pete to gently tilt his head back. Even with the glove on, Pete could tell her hands were soft and tender. A small thing, but it was enough to make him feel more comfortable with the situation.

He looked up at her and, for a brief moment, their eyes met. Her hand paused, the swab just inches away from his nose, before she looked back down at her hands again. “We probably shouldn’t be gazing into one another’s eyes when I’m trying to test you.”

Pete sighed and braced himself.

The testing took all of five seconds, but every time he had to do it it felt like years. He winced as she took the swab away and put it in a bag marked with his name on it.

“There you go,” she said, taking her gloves off and throwing them into a nearby garbage. “You are, potentially, virus free. For now anyways. We’ll see tomorrow what your test results say.”

“That’s reassuring,” Pete muttered as he stood from the chair. “Hey, you never told me your name by the way.”

“My name isn’t relevant,” she responded, focusing on sanitizing her hands and cleaning the her work station.

“Of course it is. Obviously I’ll be seeing you every time I come into work, we’ve basically gotten so close already, and I need to know your name if I’m gonna take you out on a date.”

The amused look on the intern’s face returned as she looked up at Pete. “You’re really trying with this, huh?”

“I’m nothing if not persistent.”

She sighed and reached up to adjust his mask so it was covering his nose and mouth again, then sanitized her hands again.

“There’s a few things wrong with your persistence right now, though. For one, you only just me. You barley know me, you don’t even know what I look like under this mask. What if I take this off and I’m absolutely hideous?”

“More of a reason for us to go out on a date. It’ll mean you’re not way out of my league then.”

She tried to hold back her chuckle at this, but also failed. “And two, we’re in a pandemic right now. Dating is not a good idea right now. It’s all sorts of risky, especially with someone who is in the medical field.”

“You say that as if doctors and nurses aren’t the safest people right now,” Pete pointed out. “I’m not going to actually be a bother about this. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I understand your concerns. But if you ever do change your mind, you will be seeing me on a weekly basis. You can tell me at any time.”

Despite wanting to ask her once more, Pete knew it was best to leave her be. He went on to set to get ready for the night, but his mind constantly drifted towards the beautiful intern.

~~~~~~

The familiar applause and music at the end of the night was always a pleasant rush for Pete. A congratulations on a job well done, that used to lead to a massive after party that none of them would remember in the morning. But now, with the pandemic, it led to everyone putting their masks back on and going their separate ways.

While it was still okay to do so, Pete hugged some of his co-stars before putting his mask on to return to his dressing room. As he got there, he noticed a figure leaning against his dressing room door, and the closer he got he realized it was the intern. This time, surprisingly, without a mask.

“Great show,” she said as she approached. “They let me sit in the audience and watch.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed,” he told her. “Are you visiting everyone to congratulate them on a good show?”

“No,” she said. “My name is (Y/N), by the way.”

This also shocked Pete. “It’s nice to officially meet you, (Y/N). Is knowing your name a good sign for me?”

(Y/N) smiled. As he predicted, she was gorgeous even without the mask on.

“It is,” she confirmed. “Tomorrow I’ll be getting the results to your test and, should they come back negative...maybe we could attempt to have a stay at home date.”

Pete returned her bright smile. “Yeah. You know what? That’d be really nice.”

(Y/N) nodded, looking almost relieved at his response. “Okay...okay, great. I’ll call you the minute I get your results.”

“You better. I’ll be anxiously waiting.”

She smiled at him again before putting her mask back on and making her way down the hallway. Pete watched her go until he couldn’t see her anymore, then celebrated briefly to himself.

[snarkwrites]

Title: snowbound pt 1 of 2/3

Theme: snow

Fandom / Character(s):Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Earth!FemaleReader.

Warnings: First up. I preface with two strong warnings.. I am not a medical professional in any capacity. Second, I am only kind of a casual Star Wars fan, so Idk how things work in their universe as compared to here on Earth. The actual warnings here are blood!tw and injury!tw. Again, I remind you. I am neither a veteran star wars fan nor a medical professional. So, some things may be entirely wrong. And Ben Solo is most likely written totally OOC as he is not a character I am used to writing, by any stretch although i love him with my whole heart... Anyway... The warnings are: Blood!TW, Injury!TW, OOC fandom character and a strong dose of hurt comfort / fluff in the next parts I kind of hope i get to do for this. This part is so long because I was using it to sort of set things in motion..

Word Count: 2k. Listen, I was setting things up and got carried away, rip me.

Listen... You all just don’t fucking understand how much I love Kylo/Ben... I know, I know, he’s a bad guy. Anyway, this is me doing something I’ve literally been dying to do, a scenario in which Ben somehow winds up Earthbound just in time for the holidays...This is my daily entry for my bb @champbucks over on the @12daysofchristmas challenge blog...

OH YEAH.. for the sake of a timeline here.. This part takes place around the end of November/beginning of December. Part two will take place two and a half weeks later and part three will take part a day or so, maybe two, after part two. Trust me, this needed to be said.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

So, here’s the thing.. There really isn’t anyone on my Star Wars masterlist and like... I haven’t really written anything Star Wars related... Until now. So, if you want to be tagged in my star wars stuff, click the little link below or send me an ask/dm on my main and I’ll happily add you.

@champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“What the hell?”

The boom from outside had the windows to my grandma’s old cabin rattling and I quickly sat up just in time to look out the window at the head of my bed to see a bright flash of blue as it disappeared beyond the treeline across the road.

,, Curiosity killed the cat, remember?” my brain nagged at me the whole time I was slipping on the jeans I’d worn earlier in the day. That nagging only grew as I slipped on my warmest boots and by the time I had my daddy’s old shotgun loaded and I was heading out the door, I wasn’t entirely sure if going over to see what the hell was going on in the woods across from my house was a good idea or not.

I mean yeah, the odds were that some idiot kids were racing around Deadman’s curve and one crashed.. Or a drunk trying to drive home on an icy road hit black ice and lost control… At the thoughts of what probably happened, I stopped in the middle of the road and felt my back pocket.

As soon as my fingers grazed the cool weight of my cell phone, I took a deep breath and started to walk towards the woods on the other side of the little country road.

My eyes were adjusting to the semi darkness, so when the wrecked craft came into view just a few feet into the trees, I had to stop and really stare at it, rubbing my eyes.

“What the fuck?” the words left my mouth in a soft gasp as all the breath left my body. I knew exactly what I had to be looking at by now… And rather than turn and walk away, back to my grandma’s cabin, I kept moving closer. Pushing through bushes and trees and overgrown weeds and dead grass as I made my way towards the clearing to get a better look.

I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, because everybody knows there’s a damn good reason we have a military base on the outskirts of our little town and we all know they’re not testing weather balloons out there.. I knew that if this were a military thing, there would most likely be a cover-up.

So I did what anybody would and I pulled out my camera, recording the crash site and taking a few pictures of the craft as I walked around it slowly.

I froze completely when I heard a wounded groan.

Now, I’d assumed that whoever crashed whatever this… Thing.. Was… they’d gotten the hell out of dodge as soon as the crash was over.

,,Or they were dead on contact because the impact was really hard.’’ my brain finished. I glanced all around the clearing that the craft crashed in the middle of. Everything was silent. Almost deathly silent, as if something had come along and sucked up all the sounds and background noise. I shivered and hugged myself, swearing under my breath about not having the presence of mind to stop for a jacket or grab my first aid kit on my way over here...

A scream died on my lips when I felt a strong grip wrap around my ankle as soon as I stepped closer to the wrecked craft, bending down to peer inside, my phone out and ready to call for emergency services.

When I looked down, after I dove away as quickly as possible, of course, I swallowed hard and tried to find words.

“Help.”

As he said it, I got the distinct feeling that this was not a word he enjoyed saying, not at all.

I could only nod and when my brain finally felt it had enough time to process what was going on, it kicked into overdrive.

“Can you pull yourself out?” I finally managed to ask the question.

“Trapped.” the word came on the heels of words that were totally unfamiliar to me, yet somehow I knew instinctively that this guy had to be swearing up a storm and in immense pain.

I guess tonight’s one of the few reasons I’m glad I went into the medical field instead of becoming a horror novelist or a starving artist like I used to want to when I was a kid. Tonight my years of school and training and the experience I’d gotten thus far as an intern at the hospital in town was all going to come in handy.

Because the lack of military vehicles or police by now only meant one thing to me.

The military either didn’t know yet so this gave me a chance to finally do something about the way they were polluting the water supply and making people sick or… Nobody knew about this.

Laughing softly at the thought that I might’ve stumbled onto an alien crash landing, I bent lower, peering into the smashed window and I dug around in my jeans pocket until I found my dad’s old pocket knife.

“I’m gonna.. I’ll try to cut you out, okay?” I muttered. He grunted, a light pained scowl playing at gorgeous and full lips.

I leaned inside a little, swearing as I felt shards of glass.. Or whatever the material was on the windows, digging into my hand..As soon as I got a good look, I realized that he wasn’t trapped by a harness or belt of any kind.

He was trapped because when the craft he was inside made impact, the damn thing basically folded like a soda can. I winced. Drawing a few sharp and shaky breaths, the fog from their warmth lingering in the air as I tried to stop and think.

I should be calling EMTS. I should be leaving him here because everything I’ve ever learned about accidents of any kind clearly predicates that if someone is hurt and you don’t know how fucking bad, you don’t move them.

But here’s the problem with that knowledge and my current situation… If I didn’t do something, then either that military installation was going to get away with the shit they’ve been doing the past few years since they mysteriously popped up on the outskirts, show up to finish this guy off in the time it took me to get help on the way… And then they might just do me in also because I had evidence and proof that they were up to something shady out there... Or… They’d find him and take him back to the base and do God only knew what to him.

,, but he might be an alien…” my brain gave me the gentle reminder and the counter argument arose almost immediately, ,, he can’t be. He looks like I do. He looks human. I can’t just turn my back and leave the guy… If he is military and they do realize what’s happened, he’s as good as dead… And I cannot live with someone’s blood on my hands.” 

And with that thought, I proceeded to try and figure out the safest way I could to go about breaking years of protocol that had been drilled into my brain.

I started with the obvious. I leaned in, my body brushing against him as I raised my hand, pressing my fingers to his neck, feeling for the jugular so I could attempt to see if his pulse was steady.

He groaned quietly and I explained in a hushed tone, trying to keep him calm, “I’m trying to take your pulse… to make sure it’s okay to move you if I can get you loose. Because we’re gonna have to get you out of here somehow.”

He merely nodded. I almost asked if he spoke the same language as me, but that was a later question. I was still operating under the assumption that I was working with a very small time frame, either way. 

Because even if the military didn’t know what happened out here, they would soon.. Because this just felt like something they would be aware of or become aware of. And I wasn’t going to let them get their hands on the guy, especially when he was injured and far too weak to fight them off.

Or so I thought…

,, where the hell am I? What happened? Need to.. Get out of here. Get back to the others.”

I heard it so clearly that for a second or so, I thought he might’ve actually spoken. I answered quietly, “You’re in Montana. Apparently, you crashed whatever the hell this thing is. If you’ll be still and stay calm sir, I’m trying to get you out of here. We have to hurry. If those damn military guys realize what happened and come down, we’re both probably fucked.” and continued checking him over.

I dreaded what I was about to have to try and do, because if there was any internal injury, I was about to make it worse. The goal, I decided mentally, was to move him as carefully but as quickly as possible.

He gritted his teeth and gave another long and wounded grunt as he seemed to pick up on my rush and started trying to maneuver his legs free from the part holding them in place.

“Okay, whoa. Easy, sir. Stop moving, damn it!” I said frantically, eyes widening as they settled on the dark depths of his eyes.

He glared at me, speaking in a calm but firm tone. “I have to get out of here.”

“And if you’ll go about this carefully, like I said before, you might actually live through this. I don’t know if you’ve been injured internally or not. I won’t know how severe your injuries are until I’m back at my cabin. I’m hoping that since you’re vocal enough to be an entire stubborn ass right now, that you’re really not seriously injured.” I snapped back because he’d snapped at me just seconds before.

He eyed me, almost wary. Almost as if he weren’t entirely sure whether to trust me. But I stared him down, firmly as I could. He managed to get his legs free and clear of the way they’d been pinned somehow and if I hadn’t thought the guy might be strong as an ox when he grabbed my ankle before, I now knew that fact beyond a shadow of doubt.

Oh, he grunted and groaned and growled in pain the entire time, but he seemed to be entirely too stubborn for his own good, too hell bent on getting himself out.

Once he was slowly pulling himself through the busted glass and lying on the snow, I cleared my throat. He winced and gritted his teeth as he pulled himself to a sitting position in the snow. The form fitting black garment he wore on his upper body was shredded in a place or two from the way he’d pulled himself through the window of the wreckage.

“Do you think you can walk? Because we need to figure something out.” I asked the question as I worked on keeping calm. But I was in a bit of a panic see, because internal injuries are difficult to spot and often, they go unnoticed until the person injured either dies or suffers massive complications. And I knew that me, moving him as little as I had and then him freeing himself from the wreckage somehow and all that movement… It was tempting fate, in my own opinion, but I was that determined not to let all this be covered up or to have this man’s blood on my hands.

He looked as if he were going to attempt it and I stood, holding my hands out to him to at least try to help him. But after the second or third attempt, the fight or flight response within me kicked in and I was… Growing impatient to get him indoors and both of us hidden away somewhere safely.

“I’ve got an ATV up at the cabin. It’s literally just across the road at the top of the hill… I need you to stay here and stay hidden. Are we clear?” I didn’t mean to bark it at him like an order, I guess I just assumed at the time that if he were a soldier who worked that base, he was used to it.

He bit his lip and eyed me.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” that firm tone, I won’t even begin to go into the effect it had on me, but I was the one who wasn’t injured and didn’t possibly have the US Armed Forces about to pop up at any second, so I had to act as if nothing he did or said had any sort of effect on me at all.

And god was it ever hard!

“Which one of us crashed a fucking piece of government property and is injured, sir?” my hand dragged through damp hair and tugged a little as I tapped my boot against the crunchy snow covered forest floor.

“ The ship is mine.” he corrected. I eyed him with a brow raised.

“Whatever you say. Either way, arguing semantics with you is not getting either of us to my cabin.”

The searing pain that shot through my palm as I rubbed it against my jeans had me grimacing, but I tried to ignore it. He stared me down, head tilted slightly.

“Alright. I’m going now.” I turned on my heels and I bolted up the hillside, hurrying so fast across the slippery pavement separating me from my cabin that I nearly slipped a time or two and I finally got to the shed that I’d parked the ATV under after riding it along the creekbank earlier to look for fallen trees I could use as firewood.

The keys were still in the ignition. I jumped on and fired it up, biting back a pained whimper as I curled my hand around the handlebar and that only put more pressure on the wound that I didn’t even realize I’d gotten trying to help the man out.

I shoved out the pain and focused on getting back across the road as quickly as possible. And in the back of my mind, yes.. I did find it more than a little odd that nobody had come down. The neighbors a mile away from me have to have heard… Then I remembered that Herb and Isla were out of town, in Kentucky with their oldest daughter and her family for the holidays.

,, c’mon lady luck, don’t fail me now.” the thought came and went and I took a shortcut through the treeline that I knew would put me straight in front of the crash site. Now I just had to hope to God that the guy was okay and he hadn’t left the scene.

Right as the crashed ship came into view, I spotted him trying yet again to use the wreckage to pull himself to his feet and I rushed over.

“You’re a stubborn one.”

“Trying to..” he took a few heavy breaths and grumbled before continuing, “Get back home.”

“And you can do that.. The second you’re at least partially healed, sir. I’m gonna…” I trailed off, awkwardly positioning myself against his side so that he could use me as a crutch and lean on me to get to the ATV so I could take him back to my place, “Lean on me.”

But the guy was an actual fucking giant.

And normally, in a non life or death situation, I’d have been absolutely mesmerized by… Pretty much everything about him. But tonight, I was too focused. Too intent on getting both of us to safety.

,, daddy always told me curiosity killed the cat. Now look what I’m smack in the middle of.” I thought to myself, grunting a little as he leaned into me heavily, my arm around his lower back and his arm around my shoulders as he clumsily tried to make his way to the ATV.

Once I got on and he managed to get himself on behind me, I took off. “Might wanna cover your face.”

And a minute or so later, as I parked the ATV right at my porch steps to make it a little easier to get him inside, he eyed me warily again, this time questioning, “Why are you doing this? Don’t you know who I was?”

“What do you mean was?” I asked the question, all the worst possible scenarios flashing through my mind. And that adrenaline surge from earlier that I had yet to come down from? A little more panicked.

He muttered something and shrugged, putting a shoulder around me again as he grunted and managed to get himself standing.

The light overhead on my porch caught on his bloodied pants leg and I grimaced. “Well, pretty sure that’s a broken leg.”

I kicked open the front door with my foot and helped him into my living room, letting him sink down onto the couch. After I got him all settled in, I rushed around my pantry gathering up my medical supplies that I kept on hand.

And I wandered back into the living room, taking a seat on the handmade heavy wooden coffee table in front of my old plaid couch. “You’re gonna have to… Take off the shirt..”

He eyed me, this curious gleam in his eyes that quickly vanished when I firmly repeated myself.

His eyes caught on my palm and he eyed my own smaller wound, then fixed his eyes on me. “You’re dripping blood on the floor.”

“And I’ll worry about that as soon as I’m totally certain that aside from a possibly broken leg and a few cuts and bruises, you’re fine.” I insisted, a firm tone of my own as I started to tug the ripped fabric up and over his body. I grimaced at the older scars and bit my lip as I surveyed the bruises already starting to form against pale skin. “Are you in any pain at all when you breathe?”

Bear in mind here. I am still only just an intern. So I haven’t actually had to deal with a whole lot in the way of injuries. The most I’m currently allowed to do is make rounds and do consults, checking in on patients to let their actual physician know what they might need or how they might be feeling on that particular day.

So this was all trial by fire for me.

One glance at his well muscled body had me definitely continuing to think that he was one of the guys from the military base and I made a mental note to maybe NOT turn down Carrie if she offered to set me up with one of the guys her fiance knew in the future as I had been doing.

He cleared his throat.

“A little.”

“Most likely dealing with a bruised rib or two. I’ll wrap those for now.. I’ll call in a favor with Dr.Albertson in the morning...I don’t think he’ll tell anybody.”

The man nodded, agreeing.

I went back to cleaning and patching the wounds I could patch and then I turned my attention to his leg.

“I’m going to have to cut your pants leg…”

“Or I could take off my pants.” 

I eyed him as soon as he said it because truth be told, not only did he have me flustered in saying it, but also, I couldn’t entirely tell if he were being helpful at last, or if he were being a flirt.

As if to prove he was serious, he rose up slightly, unfastening the black pants he wore, working them down his hips and I have literally NEVER… ever.. Turned away and tried to still catch a peek as I did in that moment.

“Christ. You could’ve given me a second to turn.”

“Why?” he tapped my shoulder as he asked the question and I turned around.

 My breath caught in my throat and I quickly had to refocus myself. Because if I thought taking his shirt off was a bit of a distraction… Then him sitting there pantsless was.. A bit more.

I bit my lip and my eyes settled on the lower portion of his leg. The swelling was bad. The leg was definitely broken. I sighed and clucked my tongue, shaking my head. 

“I’m gonna have to call in that favor with the old man now. Because this can’t wait to be looked at. And I need to be sure you’ve got no internal injuries.” I stood abruptly, nearly doing so fast enough that I almost landed on top of the guy.

He eyed me and I pulled back and away from him, raising to a full stand. Walking quickly into my kitchen and sliding the pocket door closed behind me.

“Hey, doc? I know it’s late, but if you get this, can you please swing by my grandma’s cabin on your way home tonight? I need your help. And I need someone who can be trusted to stay quiet on what you’re gonna see.”

I’d just walked back into the living room when my cell phone rang in my hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d rather explain when you get here, doc.”

“I’m on my way now. Just grabbing my equipment.”

“Thank you, doc.”

“I always told you and I promised your grandma when you were knee high to a grasshopper. If you ever need me, kid, I’ll be there.”

I hung up and sank back down onto the coffee table, letting a deep breath escape my mouth. The adrenaline was starting to wear off finally and all I could do now was… Process everything. Try to figure out just how far up the proverbial creek I might’ve gotten myself.

The man shattered the silence in the room by clearing his throat and reaching out. I eyed him, a brow raised.

“What are you doing?”

“If you’re not going to do something about your hand, I’m going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s a little scrape.”

“There’s blood caked on it.”

Something in the look he gave me had me extending my hand. It almost felt as if I wasn’t in control of myself, though I didn’t realize this until much later…

His larger hand gripped mine carefully, holding it on bare legs.

“You still haven’t put any pants on, what the hell..”

“If you called that person and they’re going to come and examine me, doesn’t make sense to.” he didn’t look up as he answered, instead, focusing on swiping the cloth that I’d gotten as a spare in case I needed a clean one for his wounds. When the light overhead caused something in the wound to glisten, I tried to yank my hand free in a hurry, but that sensation was back in my mind and his grip on my wrist tightened to a point where I couldn’t move.

“Be still.”

That firm tone again, honestly, fuck him for it.

“Fine. But I feel like I should remind you, I am a medical professional. I could get this looked at when Doc arrives.”

“Well, I’m doing it now.” he stated calmly, as if I had no say in the matter. And when I opened my mouth to argue, to insist I could just wait the ten minutes it would take Doc to get to my cabin, nothing came out.

He gave me this smug look as he took my tweezers and worked them into the cut, making me bite my lip and take a few deep breaths.

When he finally got the shard free, I pulled my hand back, cradling it against me.

He eyed me, amused it seemed.

“I’ll clean it out and wrap it now, thanks.” I mumbled in a softer tone, giving him a small smile and thanking him.

Now, we just had to wait on Doc to arrive...

[lostinfic]

Hello! If you are still accepting prompts, protective!Nine x Rose would be great!

Anonymous said to lostinfic: Could be any Doctor, all the Doctors, I just want 'em to channel me and ruminate on how gorgeous Rose Tyler is, and you can plop them in any scenario you like (bonus points if it's a Doctor who's never met Rose)

She is defended

Summary: 1943. The Doctor works for MI6 and is the handler of secret agent, Rose Tyler. They meet at a dance hall to discuss her next mission, but things go awry. Just indulge yourself in angsty infatuated pining PTSD!Ninth Doctor.

Word count: 2900   |     Rating: T

A/N: Yes, another WWII AU. You can blame @kelkat9 (thank you!) who suggested this setting when I couldn’t figure out what to do with this prompt. Thank you to @goingtothetardis for the beta <3 I like my Rose Tyler being a badass, but for the purpose of this prompt, she’s not (on screen that is), still I don’t think it qualifies as whump.

Ao3  | self-indulgent prompts

 London, 1943

Agent handler, John Noble, can never be sure his asset, Miss Tyler, is still alive. Not until he sees her in the flesh, on rare encounters between missions. Every coded message she sends by telegraph from occupied France, he has to suspect could come from an enemy impersonating her to gain information. Each meeting confirms she is still alive. Each meeting, he carries orders for her next mission. Each meeting could be their last.

The rendezvous point, set by his superior, is a dance hall in the West End. It’s one of those supposedly safer, underground clubs. Strings of Union Jack pennants criss-cross the low ceiling. John doesn’t think much of it, he meets his agents in all sorts of places. But what he hasn’t foreseen is that Miss Tyler would dress up for the occasion: pink dress with black trims and buttons, fire-red lipstick, hair in soft waves. She’s cut it and dyed it blond for her next mission, and it frames her lovely face like a halo.

She smiles at him across the dance floor.

She’s alive. So alive.

He crosses the room in long strides as she bounds towards him, and they stop short of jumping in each other’s arms.

“Doctor! It’s so good to see a familiar face.” She touches his cheek briefly.

He takes off his fedora and fiddles with the brim.

She only knows him by his codename, one he inherited after his first undercover mission in 1916.

“Miss Tyler, you look… you look a picture.”

“Thank you. After five months over there I wasn’t going to miss a chance to dress up.”

But no amount of makeup, nor the dim lights and heavy cigarette smoke in the dance hall, can hide her emaciated figure and the dark circles under her eyes. Every time he sees her, she looks wiser.

At 19 (now 23), she was the youngest of his recruits. He’d doubted she would make it through his rigorous training. Week after week she’d proved her worth, although not without defying him at every turn. She was hot-headed but never foolish. If an ability to think for oneself wasn’t high on the list of qualities sought by the military, it was necessary for intelligence work. She and other girls had spent months in a manor in York, requisitioned by MI6, enduring countless drills and exercises in abhorrent conditions. Some girls quit, some failed. Rose had persevered. Her courage, he discovered on those quiet nights when they had sat alone under the stars, didn’t stem from youthful innocence, but from compassion. It’s what drove her. It’s what would cause her to suffer. He knew firsthand how war wrecks a person with good intentions. Yet he’d agreed to send her behind enemy lines.

The dance hall is packed with Canadian and American soldiers and British girls, many of them in uniforms. Between rationing, threat of air raids and intensive work shifts, dancing is one of the few escapes left, necessary to maintain morale. He could use some of that himself, but they are here to conduct important, top secret business. Rose, however, has other things in mind.

“You’ll buy me a drink, yeah?” she says. “It would look suspicious if we didn’t drink when everyone else is.”

John bows down to her logic and heads for the bar as she secures a corner table.

She drinks the watered-down beer from her pint glass until she is out of breath, then rolls her eyes in delight. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been gorging yourself on great French wines and pastries,” he says sarcastically.

“Only on weekends.”

She gives him that tongue-touched smile that reduces enemy spies to obliging puppies.

He asks her the usual questions though he’s read all the details in her report. She’d single-handedly took down Oberführer Van Statten’s operation in Poitiers. Yet, she talks more about the people who helped her along the way.

He readies himself for the transfer of documents, for the moment their legs and hands will meet under the table.

But Rose is distracted. Her gaze keeps drifting to the couples Lindy hopping on the dance floor to the jazz tunes of an energetic quartet. A mix of sweat, cheap cologne and hormones arises from them.

“Oh, won’t you dance with me, Doctor?”

“Miss Tyler, I’m trying to impart vital information to you.”

“It will look suspicious if we don’t dance in a dance hall. It’s like you taught me: blend in.”

“How many times are you going to use that excuse?”

“As often as it takes,” she says, shamelessly. “Just one song, please. Unless you’d rather I ask someone else.”

She scans the room. When her gaze lands on a group of GIs, a burning sensation radiates through his chest.

“That won’t be necessary,” he declares, promptly standing up. “Need I remind you, you’re forbidden from forming attachments?”

“Too late for that.”

He barely hears her over the music. His stomach drops.

“In France?” he asks.

She shakes her head and looks at him with something close to pleading in her eyes. For a moment he can almost believe she means— no, surely not.

The saxophonist launches into the opening arpeggio of “In the Mood”. The dancers cheer.

Rose grabs his hand. “Show me your moves, Doctor.” She pulls him towards the lively crowd.

Though stiff at first, the catchy melody and Rose’s encouragement soon loosen his limbs. They swing and jive and jitterbug, and he twirls her through a second and a third song.

She’s losing herself in the music, closing her eyes and thinking of nothing else. Carefree. Light-hearted. Brilliant.

The next song is “I don’t want to set the world on fire”, a fast-paced rendition, not the original ballad from which he would have walked away. The lyrics hit him nonetheless.

I don't want to set the world on fire I just want to start a flame in your heart In my heart I have but one desire And that one is you, no other will do I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim I just want to be the one you love And with your admission that you'd feel the same I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of, believe me

The tempo decreases, and she rests her head on his chest, just above where his heart beats wildly.

Oh, to keep Rose like this forever, safe in his arms, sheltered. Sod MI6 and the next mission. He could hide her, keep her. And then what? Wrap her in cotton wool? Tell her, “Here, I could let you fight fascism, but I’m not going to in case you get hurt? There’s so much you can do, you’re fantastic, but I want you to stay at home and work in a shop?”

He breaks their embrace abruptly.

“We have work to do.”

And he sets about following protocol, describing her next target. When he hands her the documents under the table, he doesn’t let his fingers brush hers. But Rose grabs his hand. He shakes her off and avoids her gaze full of confusion and hurt.

John’s efficiency means the meeting ends too soon.

On the pavement, in front of the dance hall, they say their goodbyes.

“I’ll see you in six months or so? If all goes well,” she says. “It will be Christmas!” She smiles, but it’s tight-lipped.

Christmas. Around them, magnolias are in bloom and a warm breeze stirs Rose’s hair. He can barely imagine what it will be like in such a long time. So many things could happen until then.

They could win the war. Tides are turning in the Allies’ favor lately.

They could win, but still lose her.

“Do you really want to go on this mission?” he asks as professionally as he can. “You could refuse, ask to stay here.”

“No. Not after everything I’ve seen.”

“Of course.” He takes in a deep ragged breath and tips his hat. “Be safe, Miss Tyler.”

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

He watches her walk away. Her arms swing at her sides, her fists are clenched and she rubs her thumb over her knuckles.

After about a minute, he follows her as he has done before. He keeps a long distance between them, longer than he would usually keep. After all, he taught her himself how to tell she’s been followed, and she’s his best student. He only wants to make sure she arrives safely at her boarding house. Of course, she faces more dangerous streets as a spy in occupied France, than at home in London, especially now they aren’t bombed every night, but here, should something happen, he can be there for her.

It’s dark outside, more so with the blackout in place. No streetlights or neons, heavy black curtains obscure windows. White paint on the curb and on top of mailboxes reflects moonlight and dots the way like Little Thumb’s rocks in the tale. They say cars driving without their headlights on has caused more fatalities than bombs.

As per official guidelines, Rose keeps her torchlight beam aimed at the ground. He follows her pink shoes.

She turns left, and he loses sight of her. He slows his pace. Footsteps that keep following when you turn onto a street is a dead giveaway. He’ll wait a beat, remove his hat, then he’ll resume walking, but with a different gait. She can’t know he’s following her, or that he’ll watch her window until he’s smoked a whole cigarette. How would he explain? What would she think of him? What would his superiors think?

“Doctor!”

Blood drains from his face. He doesn’t hesitate and dashes in the direction of her voice; she’s cried his name.

Her torchlight lies discarded on the ground.

“Rose?!”

“Doc—”

To his right, behind that shop.

He sprints across the street. Struggling noises. Silhouettes hunched behind a dumpster. A man.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

John rages and groans, topples him over. Teeth clenched, blood boiling. He could rip the man’s head clean off.

Rose moans in pain, and John pushes off the man to rush to her side.

She’s slouched on the ground, eyes closed.

Suddenly he’s back at the Somme, half-sunk in mud, gunfire echoing around him, and Adric in his arms, dying.

A loud noise brings him back to reality. The assailant is fleeing. John stands up to run after him. He needs to know who he works for. But Rose…

He squats back beside her. A syringe sticks out of her arm, plunger depressed, barrel emptied out.

What did he give her? Drugs? Poison?

His fingertips seek her pulse on her wrist. Nothing. On her neck. Yes, there. Weak. Tears well up in his eyes.

“Miss Tyler, can you hear me?”

No answer.

In his distressed state of mind, there’s only one person he thinks of who can help. Someone he hasn’t talked to since 1918.

*

The stolen car’s brakes screech to a halt in front of a quiet herbalist shop. Adrenaline helping, John lifts Rose in his arms and runs to the front door. He knocks loudly, relentlessly.

The door cracks open, revealing a middle-aged black woman holding a cast iron pan. John pushes past her, into the front room and carefully lays Rose on the floral couch.

“Doctor?” the woman says. “Is that you? But that’s impossible.”

Kneeling beside the couch, he speaks without taking his eyes off Rose, “Jabe, I need your help. Someone injected her with this.”

Jabe takes the syringe from his hand.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. You’ve helped us with poisons before.”

“I made them. I didn’t identify them.”

“Take a shot at it.”

He gently wipes Rose’s hair away from her face. She’s still breathing. For now.

“But Doctor, poison in her food or drink, she could throw it up, but in her blood—”

John springs up and towers over Jabe menacingly.

“Help her.”

Fear spurs her into action, not her own fear, but his.

Jabe pushes on a bookcase, it slides aside, revealing a small workshop. Dried herbs, tiny brown glass bottles and antique apothecary cabinets hide lethal drugs and modern chemistry equipment.

She gets to work, to concoct a generic, broad-spectrum antidote.

“I heard about your unit. It’s remarkable that you’re even still alive. I just want to say how sorry I am.”

John swallows thickly. He doesn’t need grief on top of distress.

“I’m not losing her too,” he declares to convince himself.

Jabe stirs droplets of a pink liquid into a vial.

“Why did they attack your wife?” she asks.

“She’s not my wife.”

“Partner?”

“No.”

“Prostitute?”

He glares at her.

Rose remains unconscious.

Reluctantly, he leaves her side to fetch a flannel damp with cold water. He dabs it over her forehead and cheek.

“I promised her mother I would always keep her safe. She was just a kid. Nineteen, she was, when I met her. She was fighting off looters in a bombed-out shop.”

“Am I a ghost?” Rose mumbles.

Relief floods his veins. He engulfs her in a hug.

“You’re talking like I’m not here anymore,” she slurs.

“No, love. You’re not a ghost.” Still cradling her head, he leans back, just enough to see her face. “Rose, look at me. Talk to me.”

Her eyelids flutter open with great difficulty.

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” she says. “You’re so handsome. I miss you when I’m in France. Why aren’t you in France with me? I miss you.”

“Shh, I’m here now.”

He kisses her forehead, but Rose seeks his mouth. He doesn’t fight his desire. Their lips meet in a slow, desperate kiss. A sluggish kiss. She’s too limp in his arms. Her eyes have closed again.

“No!” He shakes her. “I miss you too, okay. Rose, do you hear me? I love you.”

“You’re like a storm.” Her speech is lethargic. “There was a storm when we crossed the Channel. The pilot was scared. He ate my sandwiches. I don’t want the pilot to eat my sandwiches. Tell him not to do that. Mum made those. Where’s she? I’ve to get back home before ten. Don’t go. I love you.”

John laughs through his tears. Rose babbles on, none of what she says makes sense.

“Jabe, I know what it is: sodium pentothal. It’s a barbiturate. They keep trying to use it as a truth serum.”

“Does that really work?” Jabe asks, joining him beside Rose.

“It’s not as simple as that. It reduces inhibition. People talk without thinking. The problem isn’t getting information, is you get too much of it, you can’t tell reality from imagination. Listen to her.”

Rose is talking about a boat trip that may or may not have been a dream. John smiles fondly.

“And they’re highly suggestible,” he adds. “Miss Tyler, have you ever been to Russia? When did you go to Russia?”

Her eyebrows are drawn together. “I’ve been to Russia. It was cold.”

“No you haven’t been to Russia.”

“No, I haven’t been. We went to York.”

“Yes, we did.”

“You taught me how to pick a lock. I knew how to do it, but I failed. ‘Cause when I couldn’t do it, you stood beside me. Close. To show me. I went to a castle. There were no crocodiles.”

With the new mission orders fresh in her mind, who knows what she could have revealed to their enemies? And it wouldn’t have been her fault.

“How do you know that’s what it is?” Jabe asks.

“I’ve used it.”

It’s not the whole truth.

After the Great War, psychiatrists used it to treat soldiers with acute shell shock. A lower dose than what Rose had received reduced anxiety. With a conscientious doctor, it allowed patients to talk about their trauma and eventually recover from it. He had been one such patient.

“She’ll be fine, she only needs to rest. Can we stay here?”

“Is it safe?”

“I don’t think they’ll come after her again.”

Jabe leaves them alone for a moment.

He moves, but Rose grapples blindly with his shirt. Carefully, he sits on the couch to hold her in his arms. Her pulse is still slow, but close to a normal rate. He keeps caressing and kissing her hair. He rocks her, like the slow dance he denied them earlier.

Jabe comes back with two cups of herbal tea and sets one down on the coffee table for John. She sits in the armchair and studies him. Fine wrinkles now surround her piercing almond-shaped eyes.

“You’re still working for them, aren’t you? After everything that happened,” she says accusingly.

“I couldn’t go back to a normal life. I needed… action.”

“Perhaps a man only enjoys trouble when there is nothing else left,” she says. “Although, sounds like you have Miss Tyler now. That’s good, isn’t it?”

John sighs and his gaze moves to the syringe. “A dose like that… I think they aimed to learn everything they could about her new mission, then release her. Let the mission take its course, then thwart it in the worst possible way.”

“How could they have let her go?”

“Because a dose like that, Jabe, it causes memory loss.”

“She wouldn’t have remembered being interrogated… She won’t remember any of this. Your confession…”

“Probably not.”

“Will you tell her?”

He looks down at Rose, safe in his arms as he had wished. He tightens his embrace.

“Probably not.”

“Oh, Doctor.”

“After the war. Maybe.”

#

End not: Here is a ASMR (but not really) version of “I don’t want to set the world on fire” (Spotify),  feel free to listen to it while picturing post-war Rose, signing it softly around the house where she lives with the Doctor. Maybe she’s washing the dishes, and maybe he comes in and wraps his arms around her waist from behind, and maybe they sway softly to the melody of their song.

[madlori]

Unveiled - Chapter 10

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12  || Chapter 13 || Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 3200 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

No sex in this one.

CW: Minor character death, car accident.

Read it on AO3

Life became both calmer and more hectic as they drew ever closer to the unveiling day, now a mere month away. 

Since that horrible morning when they feared the consort was miscarrying, he hadn’t had any cramping or bleeding. That day, Zhenya had wheeled him back to their room in a chair, over his gestures of protest, and half-carried him to bed. The consort had been silently laughing at him by the time they reached it, making I’m fine! gestures. He had, however, accepted being pampered for the rest of the day. Zhenya had even called in the masseuse to give him a full body rub-down and had the chefs prepare his favorite foods and bring them to their room so he could eat in bed, improvising a drape between them on the bed so the consort could unveil to eat. They’d lazed around together and watched TV before drowsing off in a loose embrace, a half-eaten bag of salt and vinegar chips, the consort’s favorite, still lying on the bedspread.

It had taken about a week before the consort had initiated sex again. Zhenya had slid gratefully into his body, hearing him sigh and breathe deeply in arousal -- just the fact that he wanted to was a relief. Knowing that his consort still desired him, even though he was already pregnant, filled Zhenya with warm, gentle passion that he tried to communicate, not with words but with his hands and lips, applied reverently to his consort’s body. The fear they’d both felt that morning, and how they’d turned so immediately to each other, had deepened their bond. Zhenya felt it, and he knew the consort did too.

And yet, even while he enjoyed this new closeness with his husband, Zhenya found his mind straying to Sidney. He hadn’t seen him at all, despite keeping a casual-but-not-casual eye out for him around the palace and grounds. Guilt was his constant companion; guilt that he should be thinking of another man when he and his husband were growing so much closer. Guilt that he couldn’t stop wanting him, despite having more than he could ever have reasonably asked for in his consort. And, ironically, guilt over what he knew he had to do when next he saw Sidney, guilt that he would actually choose his consort. He couldn’t win for losing. He felt guilty no matter which of the two men in his life his heart was favoring.  

A few days after That Morning, Zhenya came upon Sidney sitting on a bench in the gardens, reading a book, coincidentally near the coral-and-lavender roses that both he and the consort had admired.  Sometimes he wondered when Sidney did his actual guarding; he so rarely saw him on duty. He looked up and smiled as Zhenya approached. “Hey,” he said casually, as if everything was normal. Zhenya just loomed over him until he looked up again. “What’s wrong?”

Guilt and dread were too raw for him to say what he needed to, so all that came out was stale anger, left over from the miscarriage scare. “Too busy to be with your close, personal friend when he thought he was losing our baby?”

Sidney sighed, like he’d been expecting this. “I was sent into town to pick up some uniforms that got shipped over from New Scotland. I didn’t even know what happened until I got back. He was already back in your room by then.”

Zhenya deflated a little. That was, he had to admit, a legitimate excuse. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m so glad he and the baby are okay.” He squinted up at him. “Why were you even thinking about where I was while your husband was supposedly miscarrying?”

Zhenya could hear Sasha yelling Yeah, good question! in his head. “I was distracted and upset. I suppose I was...displacing, would you call it?”

Sidney scooted over on the bench. “Stop standing over me like you’re going to send me to bed without supper.”

Zhenya thought about resisting, but then just sat down, defeated. “I find myself thinking of you in all sorts of inappropriate moments.”

Sidney was quiet for a moment. “I know what you mean.” They glanced at each other, then quickly away.

“If I were a stronger man, I’d ask you to request a transfer back to your home country.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I didn’t say I was asking.”

“Glad to hear it. Because that’s not a good look, asking a man to uproot his whole life because your feelings are making you uncomfortable.”

“You’re right. You’re just a man trying to do his job here and live your life. I’m the one who keeps seeking you out. I could walk away and decide never to see you again if I wanted to.”

“That would make me sad,” Sidney said, almost too quiet to hear.

Zhenya snorted. “Being married seems to be revealing all my shortcomings. I don’t seem to be very good at maintaining boundaries.”

“Well, you’ve never had to, have you? Your whole life you’ve had your boundaries externally enforced, strictly enforced, by royal protocol and the sheer isolation of your existence. All of this is forcing you to set your own boundaries and keep to them. It’s not surprising you’d be out of practice.”

“I didn’t come out here looking for you but here you are. I could have walked on by and you probably wouldn’t have seen me, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, because you act on me like a magnet, Sidney. I am drawn to you, and I’ve never been sure why, but it has to stop. I have to stop. The unveiling is barely a month away, and once my husband’s name is known to me, all of you will return to New Scotland, and I’ll never see you again.”

Sidney fiddled with the corner of his book. “I’ve been trying not to think about that.”

“I’ve thought of little else since we met.”

“You make it sound so easy. To just -- stop.”

“Easy or not, it must be done.” He got up and forced himself not to look at Sidney again. He couldn’t bear the sight of those eyes or those cheekbones if it was the last time he’d be seeing them. “Take care of yourself, Sidney.” He strode away, and didn’t look back.

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

Zhenya galloped hard, urging his horse faster than he usually would, just wanting the speed, the rush, the sensation of flying. 

To get away. Away from the palace, from his weeping mother, from his gray-faced father, from the endless whispers and quiet preparations and the sad, pitying looks from visitors and staff alike. 

From that cruel, strange world where his brother was dead.

They’d gotten the news just after dinner the night before. Victor had left to return to his mountainside home. The drive was precarious, with many tight hairpin turns, and a truck driver coming the other way had briefly lost control, drifted into the other lane, and hit his brother’s car head-on. The car careened off the edge, flipped over and over down the hillside. Victor and his driver had both been killed.

There was nobody to blame. The other driver hadn’t been sleepy or impaired or even going too fast; it was a difficult road and his hands had slipped at the exact wrong moment. The same thing had happened to Zhenya on that road, but he had been fortunate that no cars had been coming toward him when it had.

“I’ll see you at the unveiling,” Victor had said, as they’d said good-bye. “Just two weeks to go! Can’t wait to actually meet this amazing consort of yours. I bet he’s gorgeous.”

Zhenya had laughed, although as the days went by, he was less and less concerned with what his consort’s face looked like. Nothing about his appearance could be a disappointment -- his face would be dear to Zhenya because it was his.

But now Victor was gone. Victor would never see his brother-in-law’s face nor meet his niece or nephew, nor see Zhenya crowned King when that time came, and Zhenya was angry about it. He was angry about a lot of things. So tonight at dinner, when his mother had tentatively suggested that the unveiling might be postponed, he’d stewed and bitten his tongue until he could stand it no longer, leapt up from the table and fled to the stables without even changing out of his dinner clothes.

He’d saddled Admiral in a rush, the horse probably confused to be going out at this hour. As he’d left the stables, going much too fast this close to the outbuildings, he’d spied Sidney, of all people, running after him. “Zhenya!” he’d called. Probably sent by the consort to check up on him -- would that he’d sent Fleury or Letang, and not the one person who’d only serve to aggravate him further. He’d left Sidney and the palace in the dust, craving escape.

He pulled up at the lake at the far end of the grounds, where he and his brother used to come to fish when the lake near the palace was still too close to their parents’ watchful eyes. It was a remote spot, with a hunter’s cabin and a dock but no boats. They’d fish from the dock, and sometimes just sit there and talk. Victor (although that hadn’t been his name then) had often spoken of his faith, of what he learned from the clerics and the thoughts that kept him studying day in and day out. Zhenya had sometimes spoken of being King one day, because even as children they’d somehow known that it would be him on the throne, not his elder brother. He’d spoken of finding a consort, of what his unveiling day would be like. It was during these talks that he’d come to realize where his preference lay -- when he’d talk of unveiling a consort, he always saw in his mind’s eye a handsome man’s face being revealed to him, instead of a beautiful woman’s.

He and his brother had been close, then. Very close. It wasn’t until they grew into men that the distance came. It couldn’t be helped. Victor’s life had become about his studies, his orders, his calling, while Zhenya’s had become about affairs of state, governing, the business of ruling. Their affection was unchanged, but Victor hadn’t been a real part of his life for almost a decade. And now all Zhenya could see was the time they hadn’t spent together, all the time they assumed they’d have in the future.

He slid off Admiral and flopped down into a heap on the grassy shore, staring at the surface of the water, smooth as a mirror in the still night air. The stars blazed overhead in this unpopulated corner of the royal estate and his mind searched for peace.

He was still searching for it when he heard distant hoofbeats approaching. He sighed. It could only be one person.

He stayed where he was, not turning to look as his interloper stopped his horse and slid off, then came around to sit by his side.

“What are you doing here, Sidney?” he asked.

“You rode out like you were being chased by demons,” Sidney said. “I was worried.”

“I wanted to be alone. Could you not respect my wishes in that, at least?”

“You’re not a be-alone man, Zhenya. You may think you want to be alone, but you don’t. You thrive only with companionship.”

“That isn’t your task to provide.”

“Maybe not. And I shouldn’t be here, probably. You made your feelings known the last time we talked.”

“Not clearly enough.”

“I’m sorry. I just...I couldn’t stand the thought of you out here by yourself. What if your horse tripped? What if you hurt yourself? You weren’t riding very carefully, and it’s dark.”

“I’m fine, as you can see.” His resolve was weakening. How had Sidney come to take such an accurate measure of him in such a short acquaintance? He wasn’t a be-alone man, that was true. Solitude sounded good, but wore thin after a short time.

Sidney was silent for a few moments. “I’m so sorry about your brother. I’d have told you before, but I haven’t seen you.”

“Thank you. It’s...difficult. He was so excited to become an uncle. My child will never know him now.” His voice caught. Sidney rested a hand on the middle of his back; even that casual touch, through two layers of Zhenya’s clothing, felt electric. 

“I have a sister. I can’t imagine anything happening to her.”

“Are you close?”

“Yes. She’s here, actually. She’s another one of the consort’s guards.”

Zhenya turned to look at him, surprised, although he instantly knew who he referred to. “The woman with the blonde ponytail?”

“Yes. Taylor.”

“She resembles you.”

“A bit, maybe.”

Zhenya’s throat closed, and he swallowed hard. He let his head sag, his chin trembling. Sidney’s hand moved to his shoulder and squeezed it. “I’m so angry,” Zhenya said. 

“Of course you are. A senseless accident; it’s horrible.”

“No, I’m angry at myself. Because I’m so sad about my brother, but that’s not why I’m out here. I had to get away before I said something unforgivable because I’m so bitter...I must be a terrible person.”

“You’re not, of course you’re not!”

“I am! My brother, who never hurt anyone in his life, is dead, and all I can think about is why did it happen now; the unveiling is only two weeks away, the happiest day of my life, and now it’ll be overshadowed by this, and then I think, what a terrible thought to have, how can I possibly be thinking about the unveiling when my brother is gone, and I despise myself for it.”

Sidney scooted a little closer. “You listen to me, Zhenya. You are the kindest, most loving, best man I’ve ever known. You are not a terrible person. If you were, you wouldn't despise yourself for those thoughts. You’d throw tantrums and make a big fuss about it and cause your parents more pain, but you aren’t doing that. It’s absolutely normal to have feelings about how this affects you. It doesn’t make you terrible; it makes you human.”

Zhenya wanted to believe him. He looked in Sidney’s eyes and saw only sincerity there. Sidney really did think he was good, and kind, and loving. He might reconsider if he knew how desperately Zhenya wanted him, even though his faithful consort was waiting for him back in their rooms with their child growing under his heart, and that if Sidney said the word, he’d give up his throne, his life, and his child to run away with him. That was why he’d told Sidney they couldn’t be friends, because Zhenya was weak and disloyal. And if he didn’t despise himself for his bitterness over the timing of his brother’s death, he could damn well despise himself for that.

His mother used to say that emotions ran in packs, and big feelings of one kind could lead to other feelings escaping their cages and running wild. His grief bubbled up like dry ice in a bucket of water, and he felt his face pinch in on itself and his chin shake. Sidney knelt up at his side and folded Zhenya into his arms as he broke into sobs. He clutched Sidney’s waist and cried into his broad chest, Sidney’s hand stroking the back of his head as he whispered “Shhhh, I’ve got you,” over and over, rocking him slightly. Zhenya’s belly heaved with unlovely sobs that weren’t only for Victor. He felt Sidney press his lips to the top of Zhenya’s head and keep them there.

It went on and on, until his chest ached and his head pounded, until his sinuses were clogged and Sidney’s shirt was wet with his tears. He cried until he felt hollow but Sidney never moved; he couldn’t have been comfortable in the awkwardly hunched half-kneel he was in, cradling Zhenya in his arms, but he stayed there like a rock for Zhenya to crash upon, and it was only there that he found peace.

They rode back to the stables in silence, handing their horses off to the yawning grooms and walking back towards the palace.

Sidney stopped just shy of the main gardens. “I’ve asked to be removed from the consort’s guard detail,” he said.

“You have?” Zhenya asked. He couldn’t work up as much of a reaction as this revelation really merited; he felt like his insides had been scooped out, echoing inside with the vacuum left by his grief.

“You won’t be seeing me around the grounds or the palace anymore.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Not exactly. The detail guards will be heading back to New Scotland after the unveiling. I’ll keep to my rooms in the meantime.” 

Zhenya looked at his profile. Silvered by moonlight, he was so beautiful it made Zhenya’s skin hurt. He stepped closer, reached out and cupped his face, allowing himself one stroke of his thumb over Sidney’s elegant cheekbone. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Sidney heaved a deep sigh. “Don’t thank me. Just…” He tipped his eyes up to meet Zhenya’s. “Whatever happens, remember me fondly?”

“Always.” Zhenya stood stock still. He desperately wanted to kiss him. All he had to do was lean in slightly, and he could tell that Sidney would allow it, would even reach up to meet him, if only he could just…

“Goodbye, Zhenya,” Sidney said, then pulled away and walked toward the palace.

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

His consort wasn’t in their room when he returned, but that wasn’t unusual. Sometimes he was there when Zhenya arrived; sometimes he came in later. Zhenya filled the large bathtub with the hottest water he could stand and climbed in, soaking until he was red all over like a lobster, letting the heat clear the sorrow from his head.

The door opened after he’d been in there for awhile; the consort entered and leaned over him, stroking one hand across his wet shoulders. He ran his fingers through Zhenya’s damp hair and urged him to sit forward. He did, letting his heavy head hang down while his husband picked up the sponge and squeezed hot water over him, scrubbing the skin gently with smooth, massaging motions. Zhenya leaned back after a little while and looked up at him -- he’d never asked him to unveil before and wasn’t quite sure how. He pointed to the veils, then to his own eyes, which he closed. The consort understood; Zhenya felt the veils being lifted, then his husband’s soft lips on his in a gentle kiss. Lying here with his eyes closed felt so lovely; he was tempted to just sleep here.

The consort urged him up and out, toweled him off and led him to their bed. Zhenya slipped naked into the cool sheets; the consort climbed in on his side and quickly shifted over to draw Zhenya into his arms. He went, gratefully, the lassitude of his bath and the exhaustion of the night’s emotional upheaval barely allowing him the time to get comfortable before he was asleep.

Next Chapter

[pagesofivy]

San Francisco Flowers

Prompt: Commission for @theweepingvulcan91 for Spock x human!reader

Maybe it’s the first time Spock is seeing the reader out of uniform in something nice and flowy, if that makes sense. Them being on shore leave and Spock shows the reader one of his favorite places in San Francisco or wherever they’re located

Warnings: None, just lotsa fluff. This is a Star Trek fic, so if that’s not your bag of chips, please ignore it.

Beta: @arrow-guy

Word Count: 1758

Tagging: @meganwinchester1999 @calmjoon @quilliamfears @winchester-with-wings @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfand0msandm0re @feelmyroarrrr @danijimenezv @mogaruke @aikibriarrose @sea040561 @becs-bunker @letsdisneythings @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @autoblocked @ashengem @mysticalhood-main @haven-in-writing @emoryhemsworth @sassy-losechester

Spock seems almost excited for the upcoming shore leave, which is concerning. Spock doesn’t usually show emotions, but he was practically vibrating in the month leading up to it. It’s so unlike him that you discretely try to check his vitals to be sure he’s not sick or poisoned or something. He notices your attempts of course, but only arches an eyebrow, too amused by your concern to be worried.

It’s the first real shore leave since you two started dating three years ago, and it’s on your mother’s home planet, Earth. You’ve never been there, having been born on a Starbase in the Alpha Quadrant, and you’re excited to visit the home of your heritage. Spock’s done a lot of research and has already picked out where he wants to show you, he just won’t tell you. Jim’s keeping the secret too - hell, the whole Enterprise is keeping the secret, giving each other knowing grins when you walk in the room. At one point a random yeoman you run into tells you how lucky you are and that you’ll love where Spock is taking you, before scurrying out of the room to attend to some errands Dr. McCoy has him running.

You try to reason with Spock, ask him where you’re going because you’re curious, even lying and saying you don’t like surprises (which he calls you out on), but he won’t budge. You try the logical route, stating you need to know where you’re visiting so you know what to pack, but he just gives a vague answer, saying “It’s going to be humid, and will likely rain a lot. I’ve been advised we wear sun protection, despite the precipitation. We can purchase anything you might end up missing.”

The day before you’re set to leave, you pack, throwing in as much varied clothing as you can. Nothing for cold weather, but pretty much everything else on the weather scale, you’re prepared for - though you’re definitely still paranoid you’re forgetting something. You push that worry down though, saying your goodbyes to those staying on the ship or going places you’re not. You’ve been able to cross some places off your possible destinations list, like Chicago, New York City, and New Orleans, but that still leaves a lot of places open, and you have no idea if he’s planning to go to the big city or a small, rural town, or even somewhere in between. There are Starfleet bases everywhere that might be your stop.

The morning of your departure, you make sure you have everything, checking to make sure Spock has his stuff as well, though it’s pretty unnecessary. Never once has Spock been unprepared, not counting the crazy shit Jim pulls. Jim’s special brand of chaos can’t be prepared for. You go about finalizing your away messages and protocols until it’s time to go, and then you’re off to the transporter room.

Placing your suitcase on one of the transporter platform circles, you step onto your own and catch Spock doing the same in your peripheral vision. You face him fully and wink, to which he responds with a smile and then nods at the person manning the controls. You watch as Spock de-materializes before your eyes, and with a glance at the chief, your particles are making their way down to Earth.

The first things you notice when you’re fully materialized are the palm trees. There are potted ones everywhere in the giant transporter room, and you can see more outside. You immediately put the pieces together and realize you’re somewhere in California. The person there to run the transporter greets you then gets back to work, pointing to where Spock is before ignoring you completely in favor of bringing more people down.

Walking up to Spock, you briefly touch his hand and he smiles a little. “Welcome to San Francisco, (Y/N).” There’s no grandeur to his statement, but you can still see the excitement simmering beneath the surface and it’s contagious because it’s San Francisco! It’s been on both of your lists to visit for as long as you can remember, and being here is a dream.

“Really, San Francisco? You managed to keep quiet about us going to San Francisco? I’m impressed, Spock.” You tease him as he herds you out the door, shuddering as the heat and humidity of the city hit you. “Oh gods, humid indeed. Let’s get to where we’re staying asap. I need time to adjust after the climate-controlled ship.” Spock smirks at your complaints and hands you your suitcase before grabbing his PADD and pressing a few buttons.

“We’ll be there momentarily,” Spock assures, and a few minutes later a hovercar shows up to take you to the hotel. The ride there is mostly quiet, you and Spock both distracted by the sights of the city. Once there, he checks in and you head up, ready to relax for the evening and prepare for the adventure ahead.

The hotel isn’t very fancy, and the room itself is pretty basic, but it has a gorgeous view, a comfortable bed, and air conditioning, all for which you’re grateful. The humidity outside stuck to your skin in the most uncomfortable way, and the cool air is a welcome relief.

Spock puts his things away in the drawers and you do the same, pulling your PADD from your suitcase and sitting on the bed to read once everything is organized. He settles in beside you and pulls up a map of San Francisco on his PADD.

“(Y/N), where do you want to visit while we’re here?” he asks, and you lean your head on his shoulder, looking at the map with him. You point out a few places and bring up a few of your own, and a schedule of sorts is set up for the week before falling asleep beside each other.

The week is full of sights, from Alcatraz to the Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown and more. It’s overwhelming in the best way, so many sights and so much history taken in at once. Spock wants to end the week with the Golden Gate Bridge, so that’s where you end up.

On the morning of your last day, you make sure to wear something Spock’s never seen you in- a flowy dress. After all the form-fitting uniforms of Starfleet, it’s a welcome break, and you love how the occasional breeze moves it around your body like it has a mind of its own.

You definitely notice Spock staring for long periods unabashedly, and it makes you feel more confident in your choice. You’re pretty much unable to stop smiling the whole day, and you hold your head high. While Spock never makes you feel unattractive, him finding it hard to look away is a big confidence boost.

Standing at the vista point of the Golden Gate Bridge, your breath is taken away as the sun slowly begins to set, washing the water with a warm glow.

“Spock, this is beautiful,” you murmur, pressing your hand to his. Spock picks your hand up and presses a kiss to it, ever aware of the importance of small human gestures like that, then tugs, pulling you away from the railing.

“I have somewhere else I desire to show you, (Y/N).”

He leads you down a path, through trees and bushes and flowers, until you come upon a greenhouse. He speaks briefly with someone out front, then you both walk in, immediately enveloped by the scent of hundreds of flowers. You pause for a moment and just breathe them all in, eyes closed, trying to name the scents, but it’s impossible; there are too many, and you’re not a great botanist.

You and Spock walk through the flowers, hand-in-hand, with him being ever patient as you stop to look at and smell nearly every flower you pass. Eventually, you come upon one of your favorites and you drop his hand, moving to immerse yourself in the flower as much as possible. They’re so rare to see outside of pictures on the Enterprise that you want to savor the moment.

When you feel you’ve ignored Spock too long, you turn to find him on one knee, small box in hand, and your heart practically stops.

“(Y/N), as you know, I tend to rely more on logic than emotion. But you make me want to use my emotions. Correction, you make my emotions surface, far easier than anyone or anything else. After these three years together, I believe we know each other well enough, and I know there are no other beings out there for me; hopefully, I am the only one for you. I chose to propose by these flowers,” he indicates the nearby petals, “because I know they are your favorite, and aesthetically pleasing, and I wanted you to have a beautiful memory of this moment. I would like… (Y/N) I would like to enter into koon-ut-so'lik with you. As the humans say, will you marry me?”

You’re speechless, tears in your eyes, and you kneel down in front of him, nodding the whole time like a madman. Somehow you manage to choke out a “yes!” and Spock grins like he’s won an incredible prize. He takes your hand and slides the ring on your finger carefully, pressing gentle kisses to each fingertip, then rests his forehead on yours, allowing you to see his thoughts through your bond.

He shows you the joy, happiness, and love he feels around you, all the illogical emotions that surface without his control. Memories of the two of you flash through his mind, the first time you meet, your first “date,” moving into shared quarters on the Enterprise, and so much more. You’re once again overwhelmed, tears openly streaming down your face, and show him the same thing: the security and adventures he gives you, the rightness of being by his side, and your take on all the memories he showed you, plus a few of your own, admiring him when he wasn’t looking.

After what seems like forever of sharing - though it could only have been minutes - you separate and stand, though Spock holds your hand and won’t let go. Your PADDs begin beeping shortly after, messages from Jim telling you it’s time to return to the ship, and with a sigh, you realize how late it’s gotten.

“Let’s go home then, Spock.” You murmur, and he kisses your forehead before nodding and leading you out of the greenhouse.

“Home it is, (Y/N).”

[writing-for-amusement]

Commission for Confidence, 5

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: Sorry for the wait, everyone! We caught up to what I had written, and I kinda fell into a funk, so I wasn’t writing that much. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, I kinda agonized over it (I even drew out the apartment to try and figure out the logistics). Let me know what you think!!

Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @scatterbrainedgenius, @jordyns-library, @wildfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls

Word Count: 2155

Warnings: brief mentions of anxiety and depression, Peter being cute, awkwardness, probably too much detail about apartments, stuff about art, an AI

You chuckled nervously as you looked around the entrance to his apartment. It was a really nice place, especially for New York. It paid to work for Stark Industries, that was for sure. It was relatively open, not quite a studio apartment in its setup but akin to one, and there was a lovely view—via ceiling to floor windows—of the tops of a few buildings and the windows of a few others.

“Karen, lights,” Peter said as he toed off his shoes. The lights came on immediately, giving the apartment a warm and comforting glow.

“Karen?” you asked him, tilting your head in confusion as you began to remove your own shoes and place them by the door.

“Yes?” a feminine voice replied, making you jump in surprise.

“O-oh, hello?” you asked, unsure of what sort of social protocol came with talking to disembodied voices.

“Peter, is this a new friend?” the voice asked.

“Y-yeah,” Peter chuckled, patting you reassuringly on the back. “Karen is this AI that, uh, Tony and I developed. She’s kinda like Siri or Alexa, but better, in my opinion.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. You cleared your throat a bit and said, “Um, Karen? Can I call you Karen?”

“Of course,” Karen replied. “Did you need anything?”

“Um, I’m Y/N,” you told the AI, “and I was wondering… how are you?”

“I’m wonderful, Y/N, thank you for asking,” she said with what seemed to be amusement or affection in her voice, though you weren’t sure. “Are you a new friend of Peter’s? He didn’t tell me he made a new friend.”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you smiled at Peter, who blushed slightly. “Karen, what all can you do? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Of course not. I can control all technology in the apartment, surf the web, read the temperature of the apartment and outside, and I’m connected to Peter’s phone and his place at Stark Industries, so he can ask me to do things while he’s out and about. And I can do many other things.”

“You’re so talented!”

“Peter, I like her. She has good taste.”

As heat gathered in your cheeks, Peter said, “She has the best taste. Actually, Y/N is going to be my newest model for some art! She commissioned me and I want to really explore the mediums to best capture her beauty.”

“It’s been awhile since you’ve done something like that, Peter,” Karen said. Peter’s ears turned red and he sheepishly avoided your gaze as he continued farther into his home.

You followed him in while he made a beeline to his kitchen, which was open; once you stepped into the apartment, there were three steps to the side and down to the wall. The kitchen was up the steps, and the counter that went between the kitchen and the rest of the apartment had a few stools placed there, safely away from the steps, to make a little breakfast bar sort of thing. Though at the moment, it looked to be a holding spot for a lot of mail.

“Ned’s out of town for work for a few more days, so his mail has been piling up,” Peter explained as he stuck his head into the fridge. It was almost like he was trying to cool off his cheeks. “I know most of his mail is junk, but it’s so much fun to watch his face when he sees the mail piled up like that, only to discover it’s mostly junk.”

“Hey, we all have our things,” you said with a shrug. You’d walked farther in, noticing that the living and dining rooms sort of blended together. There was a hallway between the kitchen and what you assumed to be Peter’s little art studio (judging by the easels and drying canvases).

“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got, uh, water, milk, orange juice, a beer, I could make coffee or tea, uh… Ned has like two cans of tomato juice, but I don’t know why, that stuff is not that good,” Peter’s voice said from the fridge.

“Um, water is fine. With a little ice, please?”

“No problem.”

You continued to look around, finding the décor to be fittingly Peter. The apartment itself was really nice, but the furniture betrayed that Peter and Ned were in their twenties. It wasn’t matching at all, but it managed to go together in an endearing sort of way. Instead of carpeting in the living room, there were rugs layered almost tastefully, and the cutoff is what separated the dining and living rooms. There was a bookshelf in the back corner of the living room that you itched to go explore, but you didn’t want to be rude (you knew how personal bookshelves could be).

You ventured a bit farther into the apartment, looking at the pictures on the wall. The wall to the left of the window, closer to the bookshelf, had framed photos. There were cute group photos that made you smile. Then, some people that were in the group photos had solo photos, very artfully done (you could tell that Peter had done them).

Your favorite photo was of a woman’s profile (perhaps it was his Aunt May?) as she looked upon a park with trees. You could see the emotions she was feeling in her eyes, and she truly looked to be at ease. And, something else you loved, was that the photo was set up so that it looked like she was looking out of the window at the colorful buildings outside. You could see her freckles, and the small lines around her mouth that showed she spent a lot of her life smiling. That fact, actually, you could tell by the photo itself.

“That’s my Aunt May,” Peter said from right behind you, making you physically jump in place. You steadied yourself against the wall with one hand while the other clutched your chest as you tried to lasso your bucking heart.

“Sorry,” he grinned at you, offering you a mug that had the Spider-Man logo on it, with ice and water inside. “Sorry about the mug, too,” he chuckled slightly, “the rest of the stuff is dirty, I forgot to actually turn on the dishwasher before I left.”

“Set it up and forgot to press start?” you asked. He nodded. “I do that all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty consistent occurrence with me!” he laughed.

You took the mug with a thank you and shuffled yourself over to the wall to the right of the window to see the stuff there. You went up the three little steps and onto the hardwood floor so you could see the stuff on the walls, but Peter’s “studio” actually began where he’d laid down a large tarp to protect the floors.

You focused on the wall as Peter nervously scampered towards the studio to occupy himself with something as you were engrossed with the artwork on the walls.

The artwork on the walls, framed and not, were absolutely stunning. You’d seen some of the work on his Instagram, but they were even better in person, if that was even possible. There were two or three gorgeous photos of landscapes, but they were surrounded by other pieces of all mediums.

You found your favorite piece from his Instagram on the wall, a watercolor-esque piece that, as you recalled from the Instagram post, was also done with watercolor pencils. It was as if Peter had been sitting on an incredibly tall building, looking out onto the water on a rainy day. It had a lot of grays, but it was still incredibly vibrant. Now that you could see it in person, you saw that there were the softest of purples and reds going into the harbor, and the faintest of yellows and oranges in the gray sky.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Peter asked, surprising you again.

“Hm?” You turned to him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

Peter cupped your cheek and rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone. It was then that you realized you had been crying.

Your entire body recoiled from Peter in shock, almost spilling the water from your mug, when you realized that is what he meant, quickly wiping your cheeks. “I am so sorry,” you stammered, shaking your head to revive yourself. “I’m sorry, wow, I didn’t even realize… This painting, it’s just, it was my favorite on your Instagram, and seeing it up close, I can see so much more than I could online. And it just, I guess it just reminds me of my journey through mental illness.”

Peter tilted his head, silently asking you to explain.

“This piece is kinda dreary, you know? I mean, you obviously do because you painted it, but, anyway.” You inhaled and tried to calm yourself. “So, it’s kinda dreary, and demure. Like how my brain has been for most of my life. But there’s still bright pieces, bright colors, coming through the grays. And those brighter colors also blend into the gray. It’s not two different entities, it all comes together to create one gorgeous painting. Like how all parts of my personality come together to make me, vibrant and living even with this pesky depression and anxiety I’ve always had.” You looked at Peter and smiled, noting his eyes widen and brighten. “You’re so talented, Peter.”

His face slowly morphed into a tomato and he kept glancing between the floor and your eyes. “I…” he began before clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled again.

“So,” he cleared his throat again, “do you want to check out the rest of the apartment, or do you want to kinda get to work, or?” He trailed off, looking out the window with furrowed brows. Your hands itched to smooth out the wrinkles, but you stopped yourself, instead thumbing the mug in your hands.

“Let’s get to work, how’s that?” you asked rhetorically. “Uh, how does this work?”

Peter chuckled and gently took your hand to lead you to the little “studio” he had setup. The back wall, which it shared with the hallway, had unfinished works spread across it, both hanging and leaning. You found that to be artistic in and of itself.

There was a big bookcase and several shelves that held supplies, and the back corner had piles of canvases and pieces of paper. One shelf was cramped and overflowing with sketchbooks. There was an easel that could be shifted around, and a stool for Peter to sit on while he worked. It appeared to be a cozy place for Peter to work; even if it was a bit small, it was moldable, easy to transform to Peter’s needs.

“I love this!” you said brightly as you looked around.

“Thanks,” Peter blushed a bit.

“So, how do you want me?” you asked as he deliberated in front of his supplies.

After a few moments of silence, Peter seemed to register what you said. He grabbed something you couldn’t quite see and was fiddling with it as he said, “Could you move the stool to be closer to the window and sit on it, please?”

“Sure,” you replied easily. You placed it around where you thought he wanted it and heaved yourself on, being careful not to overbalance and fall off. You held the mug in both hands, looking down at the slightly bobbing ice.

“Gorgeous,” Peter breathed loud enough for you to hear, and you looked up to see him now watching you, a camera wrapped around his neck. His blush was the most endearing thing you’d ever seen, and he quickly began to fiddle with his camera again.

“Photos first?” you asked, sipping your water to hide the smirk you’d created once you’d seen that adorable blush.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, stepping a bit closer. “I figured, well, if inspiration strikes in the middle of the night, I could always, you know, look at some photos.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me over in the middle of the night?” you asked boldly, raising a brow and trying to stop yourself from visibly freaking out at your actions.

If possible, his face reddened even more, and he nearly tripped over his feet. You chuckled lightly, sipping your water gingerly. Instead of saying anything, you let Peter regain his composure, though what happened next nearly made you spit out your water.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to wake you up and make you get out of my warm bed,” Peter said smoothly, the red slowly fading from his face.

You nearly choked on the water but managed to keep it in your mouth and in the mug, and you certainly didn’t miss Peter’s smirk. This was certainly going to be an interesting art partnership, and hopefully a long-lasting, laughter filled friendship would blossom as well. That was all you would let yourself hope for at that moment.

[softforcal]

Nascar and Neuro : Cashton

summary: You’re dating Nascar!Ashton and whenever he gets injured or even slightly battered in his car, he has to go see Neuro Surgeon!Cal. You and Ash get used to Cal and there’s obviously a spark between all three of you.

word count: 3.5K

warnings: me trying to not be an awkward fuck writing smut. kinky threesome sex, DP, choking, all that jazz. once again, i know nothing about Nascar or actually working in a hospital. 

You waited with the medical team as Ashton’s car pulled up. The car door opened and you ran towards him, throwing your arms over your mans shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist.

he chuckled and the sound vibrated through your being as you pressed your face against his neck. He had that distinct burnt rubber kind of smell that always reminded you of the track. 

“Mr. Irwin.” one of the medics sighed, “due to the small collision and possibility of whiplash we need to escort you to the hospital for a quick Neurology check with your Doctor.” 

Ashton sighed as he set you on the ground, “fine, but I’m not getting in the ambulance.” 

“Mr. Irwin, you can’t drive until we know for sure you’re not concussed-” the medic began but you held up a hand, “i’ll drive. don’t worry, we’ve seen Dr. Hood a lot. we know how to get there.”

the medic sighed but nodded, knowing he couldn’t argue with you or Ashton. Ashton’s arm went over your shoulders as the two of you walked through the arena to the private parking for the drivers and he tossed you the keys as you got into the front seat.

“are you feeling okay?” you asked, starting the engine.

“my head hurts a bit.” Ashton confessed, letting out a long sigh as he ran a hand through those gorgeous honey curls before his hand came to rest on your thigh.

You drove to the hospital, teasing the speed limit as Ashton grinned at how you drove. he was the professional but he made sure he taught you a thing or two. on your first date he had driven you out to a long dirt road and taught you how to properly drive a stick shift which could have been a super terrible mansplaining thing but with Ashton it wasnt. the pride in his eyes when you figured it out would be stuck in your mind forever because in that moment, on that first date, you knew this was a guy trying to find a partner. an equal. 

you parked and the two of you walked into the Hospital, Ashton’s arm over your shoulder as always.

the receptionists knew you and Ash by now. you came in after most races since Ashton was a target for other drivers, he was the one to beat. there were so many possibilities of neuro issues that Nascar figured they might as well just have a Nuero specialist regular who would know Ashton and know if something was wrong.

and that was Doctor Hood.

Like Ashton, Doctor Hood was young for his profession. which, like Ashton, was a testament to his abilities.

Ash had been seeing him for about a year. the first time you walked into Ash’s room at the hospital, you had noticed how cute the doctor was.

Beautiful tan skin, gorgeous dark hair and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. not to mention the tattoos on his hands that always made you think he had a wild side and wonder how many more he had.

as the nurse showed you to your room, Ashton took a seat on the bed and you stood between his legs, running your fingers through his hair. “my beautiful race car baby.” you smiled, fingers brushing over his face as he looked up at you adoringly.

“i think you should kiss it better.” Ashton smiled.

“tell me where it hurts.” 

he pointed to his mouth and you smiled before leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. his hands went to your bum as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

a cough made you tear yourself away from Ashton, who tried to follow you with his lips but sighed when he realized you weren’t going to continue kissing him. 

“Dr. Hood.” you greeted.

“i tell you every time, you can call me Calum.” the young doctor said, picking up Ashton’s chart. “so the other car bumped into yours, correct?”

“yup.” Ashton said.

you moved out of Calum’s way so he could come over and check Ashton out, “how are you feeling?” he used a light to check Ashton’s pupils.

“my head hurts a bit.” Ashton answered.

“how about your neck.” Calum asked, hands coming to gently touch the area around where Ashton’s jaw met his neck. 

“necks fine.” Ashton sighed. 

“so you have a head ache. how about dizziness, nausea, sensitivity to noise?” 

“no, no and no.”

“okay well you look to be fine but because of your history with concussions and the fact that i’ve seen you three times this month already, i’m going to recommend that you stay over night for observation.” Calum said, “i’ll get a nurse to bring a cot for you, Y/N.”

“thank you Doctor Hood.” you smiled warmly.

he smiled back, “if either of you need anything, here is my personal phone number, give me a message and i’ll be here as soon as i can.” he handed Ashton a card as he turned and left.

as soon as he was gone you sat next to Ashton on the bed, “i’m going to run home and grab an overnight bag so you can change out of your track suit.”

“you love my track suit.” he grinned.

“it’s true. but there’s no need for you to sponsor ADIDAS right now, i’m sure you’d be more comfortable in your sweats.” you kissed him softly, “i’ll be back soon, okay babe?”

***

you walked back into the hospital, a bag of stuff for you and Ashton in your hands. as you approached Ashton’s room you heard voices and stopped in the doorway to see Calum talking to Ashton.

“is he okay?” you asked, not sure why else Calum would be there.

“i’m fine. just bored.” Ashton sighed, “and hungry.”

“let me go grab you some food.” you suggested.

“thanks babe. i’m thinking pizza.” 

Calum laughed, “you don’t want hospital pizza mate.” Cal came to stand next to you at the door, “look, i’ll go with Y/N and grab you something off the secret menu.” 

“deal.”

Calum’s hand went to the small of your back as the two of you left the room and he directed you down the winding hallways to the cafeteria. as the two of you got in the small line of mostly faculty, you turned to Calum, “he’s going to be okay right? if something was wrong... you’d let me know.”

“a headache could be caused by anything. dehydration, anxiety, you name it. its quite likely he’ll be fine. i just want to make sure.” Calum assured you as he removed his hand from the small of your back.

“so you’ve been Ashton’s doctor a year now and you have no idea how hard it’s been for me to not ask you about these tattoos.” you said, grabbing one of his hands again to look at the letters. “what do they mean?”

“they’re my parents initials.” he explained, “nothing special.”

“no, i love them.” you said, “do you have anymore?”

he laughed, “i do. but i can’t show you them here.”

“maybe another time then.” you answered.

you got to the front of the line and Calum smiled at the lady working who grinned back, obviously Cal was a charmer. “we’ll have three sandwiches from the secret menu.” Calum whispered, looking at you and winking as the worker laughed.

“you’re lucky you have this guy with you, our secret items are VIP only.” she whispered to you.

you pulled out your wallet and Calum held up a hand but before he could say anything you stated: “Calum. i am buying.”

he looked at you, taken aback slightly. this was the first time he’d heard his name on your lips and he liked it.

he knew this whole situation was weird. after all, he was your boyfriends doctor. he had no idea how long the two of you had been together but you’d been together the whole year he’d known you both.

you and Ashton were a beautiful couple. 

from the first visit Cal had began writing down when Ashton had races so he could get himself ready to see the two of you. it was a whole ordeal for him. the waiting sucked but it was always worth it when he walked into that room and was finally able to bask in the sunshine that was you and Ashton.

the things he’d witnessed always made his heart soar, little glimpses into you and Ashton’s relationship. that one time he walked in to see you on top of Ashton on that hospital bed... Calum had been grateful for his long white lab coat and the deserted on call room.

and then walking in on you and Ashton kissing that morning... well, it had almost begun to hurt. 

it hurt because he couldn’t really do anything about it. being a neuro surgeon was hard enough as it was without having a complicated maybe relationship with a nascar driver and his super hot girlfriend. and thats if you and Ashton were even down for it, which he had no idea if you were.

polyamory had been a thing at the start of his residency at the hospital. surgeons never had time to really commit to a full relationship so having more than one lover made things easier. he was used to the idea. but a lot of people wouldn’t be and he was okay with that.

but you were showing interest in the tattoos. and Calum wanted, more than anything, to take this as a sign. a sign that maybe there was hope.

as he looked at your determined face as you paid for the food his heart thumped in his chest and he sighed. “you okay?” you asked, having heard his sigh.

“just tired.” he smiled.

you picked up the tray with the three sandwiches and turned to Calum, “okay, don’t help me, i can find the way back.”

he allowed you to walk a few steps in front of him as you maneuvered your way back to Ashton’s room. you set the tray down on the bedside table, noticing Ashton had changed into sweatpants and a hoodie, “you joining us mate?” Ashton asked, noticing the three sandwiches. 

“unless you have any big shot neuro surgeries or patients-” you began to make excuses for Calum in case he needed an easy way out.

“it’s really against protocol-” Calum began.

“well my head is sort of hurting again so i think you should stay to make sure i’m okay.” Ashton flashed a cheeky grin and Calum laughed, pulling up a chair next to yours and the bed.

“so why did you go into medicine and not modelling?” you asked making Ashton burst out laughing and Cal rub nervously at the tattoos on his hands.

“um... i like taking care of people.” Calum explained.

“you’re good at it.” Ashton said, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

Calum began to relax and he finished his sandwich before he got a message about a neuro consult and had to leave. you and Ashton watched him leave and you sighed, “pretty sure he’s single.”

“it would suck if he isn't.” Ashton said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“are you sure we’re ready for this Ash?” you asked, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger.

“we have enough love to go around.” he grinned, pressing a kiss against your lips.

“especially for the hot doctor.” you agreed. 

you both finished your sandwiches and you crawled into the bed next to him, sitting between his legs with your back against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. 

****

it was around two AM when Calum exited his surgery. it had been successful and his blood was pumping through his body like he was on fire. as he turned a corner he bumped straight into you and Ashton.

his eye brows furrowed as he steadied you, “are you two alright?” he asked, “why are you out of your room?”

“we were looking for you.” You answered, “are you off work?”

“will be in a minute. was about to head to an on call room for some sleep, next shift starts at seven.” he explained.

“you’re here a lot aren’t you mate?” Ashton grinned.

“on call rooms arent so bad.” Calum shrugged.

“i bet they’re better than the patient rooms.” you said, “how about you show us which on call room you usually go to.”

the way you were smiling was suggestive and your tone confirmed his suspicion. you and Ashton wanted to go to an on call room. with him.

Calum’s heart raced in his chest even more. any other time of the day he might have said no. might have put his work at the highest point of importance. but it was a night shift. and no one was really around. and he was on call anyways...

and damn, that surgery had gone so well and Calum could still feel the adrenaline tingling over his skin like buzzing bees. and then he was leading you and Ashton to his favourite on call room.

the room was off to the side, secluded. Cal knew he was practically the only surgeon who used it. he opened the door and let the two of you in before following, closing and locking the door. 

“wanna see those tattoos Cal.” you said as you pressed your lips against his.

his back hit the door as his hands cupped your face, fingers lacing through that beautiful hair he’s wanted to touch for so long. 

your hands tore off his scrub shirt and your fingers traced over the tattoos on his chest, running down his abdomen and making him groan against your mouth as you teased his skin.

Ashton had come up behind you, hands on your waist as his lips sucked at your neck. his movements earned a moan from you and the sound was music to Calum’s ears.

Ashton tore off your shirt and pushed down your pants. as a race car driver, Ash liked things fast and neither you nor Cal were complaining. 

Meanwhile, Calum reached around you and unhooked your bra, tearing it off you so his hands could explore your body. His fingers brushed over your nipple and you groaned into his mouth, Ashton’s hands pushing down your panties.

Ashton’s lips on your neck drew your attention to him as you turned around to pay a bit more attention to him. You pressed your ass back against Cal’s dick as you pulled off Ashton’s hoodie and pushed down his sweats.

His lips attacked yours as his hands went into you hair, pulling slightly so he could move your head and gain access to your neck. Calum’s hand slipped down the front of your body as he began to rub your clit, making you moan loudly.

suddenly two fingers were in your mouth and you felt Calum’s erratic breath against your eat, “can’t be too loud gorgeous.” 

One of his fingers slipped inside of you as you groaned around the fingers in your mouth. 

“too slow.” Ashton stated as he bent down slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the bed, tossing you down on it before he kissed down your body, tongue teasing your already worked up pussy. 

your fingers tangled in his curls while Calum watched, still breathing heavily, heart racing. the small sounds you were making were deliciously sinful and it was obvious that Ashton had made you cum by the way your eyes closed and your back arched.

Ashton pulled away from you with a grin, looking over at Calum, “you going to join or what?”

He reached over to his hoodie and pulled out a bottle of lube and Calum realized this whole thing had been really planned out. unless Ashton just carried around lube 24/7 but Calum doubted that.

you opened your arms, beckoning Calum to the bed, “take off your pants and lay down.” you instructed.

Calum opened his mouth, not used to being told what to do. but he followed your instructions, even accepting the condom Ash threw at him,  then he laid down as you got on top of him. your lips immediately attached to his again and his hands went to your waist as you ground down against him. he could feel how wet you were and let out a long moan.

you reached between your bodies, lining him up at your entrance before sinking down. you both just revelled in the feeling for a moments before his hands on your hips urged you to begin bouncing up and down. 

Calum’s head fell back against the pillows as his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling.

You leaned forward and your lips attached to his beautiful neck, biting lightly before using your tongue to sooth the skin.

Ashton had come on the bed behind you and was getting you ready for him as well, when he thought you were good, you slowed your movements and Calum pulled your lips to his to distract you a little while Ashton pushed into you.

you were all still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. Ashton gave an exploratory thrust and you all moaned in unison, your fingers digging into Calum’s shoulders. 

they began moving in and out of you at opposite intervals, a rhythm that they picked up almost naturally. one of Calum’s beautiful tattooed hands wrapped around your throat and you let out a devastated whine at the feeling.

a loud smack echoed through the room as Ashton’s hand came down on your ass causing you to clench around both of them. 

Ashton had always had a gruelling, rough, fast pace and you were used to that. But Calum did too. getting wrecked by both of them at once was driving you wild, especially with Calum’s hand around your neck and Ashton hands smacking your ass.

“fuck Princess, i’m not going to last much longer.” Ashton growled from behind you.

“me neither.” Calum agreed.

you moaned louder as their speeds somehow quickened even more, gripping Calum’s shoulders to anchor yourself as their thrusts became sporadic.

Calum let go of your neck and pulled your lips to his, eyes clenching while Ashton’s grip on your waist reached bruising levels. they both groaned loudly as they came, slowing down.

you all stayed in that position for a few moments before Ashton pulled out of you and you rolled onto the bed next to Calum. you were all breathing heavily as Ashton threw his condom away. you and Calum made room for him on the bed as you curled against Calum’s chest, Ashton slipping in behind you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“how’s your head feeling?” Calum asked, breaking the silence.

Ashton laughed, “fine. i had a bit of a head ache before but it’s gone now.”

“Sex can cure head aches.” Calum mused.

the sound of beeping drew all of your attentions to Calum’s phone, sitting on top of his scrubs, “shit.” he cursed, sitting up, “i probably have to go.” he threw away his condom and picked up his phone, hastily pulling on his scrubs, “okay there’s an emergency so i have to go but you two can’t stay here. do you know your way back to your room?”

“yeah we’ll be fine.” you assured him, standing and pressing a kiss to his lips, “go fix a brain or something Doctor.”

he laughed, a small blush creeping over his skin. he unlocked the door and left while you and Ashton put your clothes back on. Ashton’s fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, “that was fun.” he mused, kissing you softly. 

his fingers intertwined with yours as the two of you snuck out of the on call room back to Ashtons room where you fell asleep cuddled together.

****

it was morning when Calum showed up, holding Ashton’s file in his hands, “how are you feeling?” he asked, “any head aches, dizziness-”

“nope, i’m great.” Ashton answered.

Calum looked up from the file at the two of you for the first time and he grinned, knowing all of you were thinking about the on call room. it was a dirty little secret and the tension was even worse than before.

“well, you’re good to go then.” Calum sighed.

Ashton stood and the two of you gathered your things, “see you in a month or so.” Ashton grinned as he brushed past Cal.

you followed and smiled, “oh, and nice hickie doctor.”

Calum’s heart dropped as he turned to look in the mirror, noticing the purple welt adoring the column of his neck. “fuck” he swore under his breath. he had just did an emergency craniotomy with a fucking hickie on his throat. 

he watched you and Ashton grin hand in hand and he laughed to himself. the two of you would be back, that much was certain and if the sex was that kinky the first time? well, Calum could only imagine what would happen next time.

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin and A Brewing Fire (Trevante Rhodes x Reader)

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader.

Warning: Suicide mention, Dark Themes, Depression Themes, Angst

A/N: Hey y’all, so I don’t know if y’all remember Trevante’s character in that dumbass Predator movie but he play Ex-Commanding officer Gaylord ‘Nebraska’ Williams. If you haven’t seen the movie I won’t spoil it for you but I took that character and his back story and kind of twisted it for the purpose of this story (ps there are no aliens or anything here, the events of the movie never happened, i just used his character and backstory). THIS IS SLOW BURN!!! I plan for it to have a couple more chapters, at least 3 more and maybe a little epilogue. Not gonna drag it out like my Untitled Series (lol remember that fossil 🤣🤣) but it’s gonna have some build up. Really sad themes in here so please be cautious. Also let me know what you guys think and if y’all would like to see more of it ! Anyway i hope y’all enjoy it🥰🥰🥰

Well today was the day. You were getting a roommate. A real roommate. But not by choice.

Your Uncle and last close relative you had left, was an army general, and his Lieutenant, his number two, the young man he’d always seen as something akin to a son... put a bullet in his brain.

It tore your Uncle apart. Your Aunt was barren and the two never looked into alternative methods to have a child.

By protocol, the Lieutenant was supposed to be dishonorably discharged from service but your uncle had managed to pull a few strings and get the boy a temporary leave of absence. And that’s where you came in.

Mental health was something you’d struggled with your whole life. Finally, on the verge of a mental breakdown, you left the city, opting to move into a cozy small cabin on the edge of a little New England town. You had a job at the local museum by day and that helped cover most of your bills, your Incle quietly taking care of the rest. You were happy here. And healthy. It finally put you in a place to heal without the expectations and constant showboating of modern society. You’d found your peace at last.

And your Uncle knew it. And he hoped it would do the same for his favorite soldier as well.

You’d been nervous at first, having never had an actual roommate before, let alone a suicidal, male ex-soldier with PTSD that could probably snap your neck like a twig given the slightest inclination. All concerns you’d brought to your Uncle who’d assured you “The kid wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless that fly was himself.”

So you’d trusted that. He was set to arrive today. You’d spent the entire weekend making sure your home was spotless and that his room would have everything a guest would possibly need. You knew how hard it was to bounce back from a dark place and environment was one of the greatest impacts.

At 13:00 sharp, your Uncle was pulling into your driveway, as punctual as ever. He exited the vehicle first, pulling you into a hug. You could see he’d aged considerably since the last time you saw him, his hair beginning to show small sprouts of grey on the sides.

“Uncle Raynard, long time now see,” you smiled. He and your Aunt lived nearly two states over so it was rare you’d go to visit, especially by yourself.

“Y/N, you’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” he chuckled, laughing as you rolled your eyes. You’d been the same short height since you were in middle school.

“Did you have a safe drive over?” You asked, watching as the other car door opened.

“Eh, we got a little rain once we hit the highwa-“ your uncles words began to fade into the background as you watched one of the finest men you’d ever laid eyes upon step out of the passengers side of the your uncles Cadillac.

Smooth, dark skin, full lips, incredible physic, thriving beard, and he was tall to top it all off. Your confusion was off the charts. This man looked like th poster child for Black Male self care and self love. For him to look like that and not want to live, you knew whatever was eating at him sure as hell couldn’t be skin deep.

“Ah, took you long enough. Y/N, I’d like to introduce you to Lieutenant Gaylord Williams, Williams this is my pride and joy, my niece Y/N.” The lieutenant dropped the suitcase he was holding in one hand and held it out to you, his other hand carrying an enormous duffle as if it was as light as a grocery bag.

“Most people just call me Nebraska,” he said shaking your hand. His voice matched his build and features perfectly: deep, sensual and sincere like his words were going straight through you.

“Ne-bras-ka,” you said in a bit of a daze as you shook his hand slowly. You could see the veins trailing up his arm.

“Thanks for uh... for having me,” he said with downcast eyes. You could see he was obviously a little uncomfortable with the whole thing.

“Of course, any thing for Uncle RayRay,” you said flashing a smile at your Uncle.

“Well I’d love to stay longer but the roads are supposed to ice over from that rain later tonight and I’m trying to get home before then. Anything you need before I take off?” Your Uncle said giving you one last hug.

“I’m think I’m good. Be careful on the roads. Gotta get back to Aunti Mae in one piece.”

“Course, nothing less.” He turned to Nebraska, “Anything you need before I go, Lieutenant Williams?”

“No sir,” he said raising his arm to salute your Uncle but Raynard pulled him into a hug instead.

“It’s gonna be alright, son. You’re gonna get through this.” He said to him, holding him tight. He tensed for a moment before hugging your uncle back. You smiled at the scene before you, seeing Black men openly support each other in cases such as these was a rarity. Mental health was a touchy subject to begin with and most opted to ignore it rather than combat it.

“You two be good and I’ll call when I make it back home,” and with that your Uncle drove off, leaving the two of you standing there awkwardly. You just realize how bitterly cold it was outside.

“Well you must be freezing, let’s get you inside,” you said holding the door open for him.

“Need any help with your bags?” He glanced over at you, purposely looking down as if to reference your short statue before continuing inside. Apparently he wasn’t much of a talker.

“So you’re room is going to be upstairs if you’ll follow me,” you led him to the room across the hall from your own. You’d been using it the last couple of months as sort of a green house where you grew all of your plants because it had an enormous window allowing for plenty of sunlight to stream through however you’d cleared them out and arranged them throughout the rest of your home so they’d still thrive outside of the room, only keeping a few in there that were especially sunlight dependent.

“Here we go. Need any help settling in?” He shook his head no looking around the room.

“Alrighty then. Anything I can get you? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Tea? Fresh-squeezed orang-“

“I’m good,” he said in a small voice. It almost sounded unnatural coming from him because his voice had such a deep timbre to it.

“Okay well I’ll let you settle in and come back to check on you later.” And with that you tiptoed out of the doorway

God he was so.... mysterious? Was that even a good word to use? It wasn’t really much of a mystery what he did, you knew and he knew you knew too, maybe that’s why it’s so awkward? Maybe he was just reserved? Shy? No, he’s in the army, they don’t get the luxury of being shy. Quiet? No they don’t get to be quiet either. Serious? Yes that’s it, he’s just a serious man and that’s what’s making everything so tense. Well that and the fact he put a bullet through his- okay no, nope we’re not gonna keep dwelling on that. He’s here now and he’s alive and that’s what matters. He’d probably rather forget that whole incident by now so you should go ahead and try to put it out of your mind as well.

Your mind was racing and you hadn’t even been paying attention to where you were going but had somehow ended up in the kitchen. You figured now was as great a time as any to start on a late lunch. But what should you cook for him? You couldn’t just make lunch for yourself, that’d be rude, especially on his first day. Maybe something Italian, everyone liked Pasta right? What if he didn’t eat meat? Or cheese? What if he was vegan? You knew some militants kept very strict diets and you’d hate to put him in such a compromising position. So you quickly decided to get to work and began cooking at once.

~*~

About an hour later you were almost done cooking when you realized you hadn’t heard a peep from Nebraska this entire time. The house was made of wood and would creak the second anyone put the slightest amount of weight on it, especially someone his size, yet you’d heard nothing.

You quickly ran upstairs, panic beginning to settle in as your thoughts took a turn for the worst. You swung the door open to see him on the bed fast asleep. He hadn’t changed clothes or even bothered to get under the covers. His bags were untouched in a neat corner of the room and he slept with his feet still firmly planted on the ground as if he had been sitting on the edge of the bed and simply laid back.

You didn’t mean to stare but this was the first time you got to actually appraise him without those intense brown orbs staring back into you. If you thought he was beautiful before at a glance then up close he was down right gorgeous. Even in his relaxed state, his arms rippled with veins, his swollen muscles making him look absolutely sculpted. You took note of his full lips, slightly parted in slumber. He was a silent sleeper, he didn’t snore or actually really move at all. It was almost as if he were.... dead.

The last thought seemed to bring you back to reality more as you remembered why you’d rushed up here in the first place. Now you were faced with the decision of waking him up from his nap or letting him sleep through to the evening.

You decided against the latter and moved towards him about to shake his shoulder when you paused. He was a military man, there was no telling what type of things he’d seen or reflexes he had. You decided to take a few steps back.

“Nebraskaaaa?” You cooed. He didn’t even twitch. You decided to grab one of the pillows off the bed and nudge him gently with that.

“Nebraskaaaa,” you cooed again, a little louder this time. His eyes fluttered open but he didn’t move. He simply stared at you, his eyes red from sleep.

“Heyyyyy....” you trailed off awkwardly, setting the pillow down, “lunch is um... lunch is ready.... if you’re hungry that is... or not.... either way it’s ready...”

“Yes ma’am,” he groaned, his voice thick from slumber. You could have fainted right there.

“Okay so I’ll see you down there then?” You realized how stupid that sounded the moment it left your mouth and mentally cringed. You couldn’t control your word vomit around him and that was presenting itself as a growing problem.

Luckily he didn’t seem to pay it any attention as he stood up, stopping at the doorway extending his arm in a swooping motion.

“Ladies first,” Okay maybe he was trying to kill you. Or maybe you were so accustomed to men having the manners of a bent spoon that you were just overthinking. Either way you had to get a grip on this or risk ruining all your best underwear.

“Thanks,” you said walking past him with your head down. Maybe if you ignore how fine he is, you’ll idle down until you’re used to it. That was going to be your plan. Just wait it out, eventually his looks won’t phase you. Or his voice. Or manners.

You made it downstairs and began to set the table. It took less than a minute because with only two people there wasn’t much to set. Nebraska stood staunchly at the doorway as if he were unsure what to do in this situation.

“You gonna sit down?” Wow that sounded rude. You couldn’t win for losing today, maybe it’d be best if you just didn’t say anything again ever.

He sat down without a word and you began sitting lunch on the table. Once everything was complete you stood proud of your creations.

“So I wasn’t sure if you had any dietary restrictions so I made Vegan Lasagna and Greek Salad hold the feta. Of course if you’d like feta I have that too, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping. I kn-

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said lowly causing you to falter in your rant.

“Oh... um..... I.... don’t mind. I cook for myself all the time anyway and there’s always extra so there’s really no change. Besides, I want you to feel at home here. And nothings says home like a home cooked meal.” You chuckled lightly. He said nothing. You were beginning to think maybe this stoic nature was his everyday personality and not just shyness.

The two of you ate in silence even though neither of you ate very much. You were to nervous to really eat and mostly picked at the food on your plate. He slowly ate his own portion, neither of you really putting a dent in anything.

When he finally finished, he rose from the table and headed towards the sink.

“Are you finished as well?” He asked reaching for your plate.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you said handing it to him. He eyed the near full plate of food before dumping it in the trash and washing all the dishes. You began putting away the leftovers. When there was nothing left to do, you both kind of stood there in a thick silence.

“Thank you.... for the meal. And your hospitality,” Nebraska nodded towards you, before heading back upstairs towards his room.

You decided to do a bit of reading since you had time to pass this Sunday evening so you curled up on one of the plush chairs in your living room and started reading a new book by one of your favorite authors. It wasn’t newly published of course but it was new to you because you’d never read it.

You weren’t sure if it was the snow trinkling outside the window next to you, the comfortable silence in the house, or the exhaustion from preparing for a new guest but you’d fell asleep within ten minutes of sitting down, your book long forgotten.

When you woke up, it had to be late at night, the window beside you pitch black and covered in snow. You noticed the blanket you kept in a little basket in the corner of the living room was now draped across you. You knew you hadn’t grabbed it before you fell asleep so the only culprit had to be your new mysterious roommate.

You felt your stomach flutter at the sweet gesture. You silently scolded yourself about getting use to this type of thing. As soon as he got himself together and was army ready, he’d be gone and you’d never see him again. There was no use getting attached now if he was just going to leave.

~*~

A/N: So let me know what y’all think! I really did feel like Trevante Character in Predator was the only one actually fleshed out plus he was the only one who wasn’t just telling jokes and screaming. As always I’m tagging my usual Trevante gang, I’m so sorry if I forgot anybody, let me know and I’ll add ya to the list (best way is to let me know on my Trevante taglist post because I always check there first.)

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @queen-of-the-jabari @queennanayaa @clydevevo @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy @killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots @blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73 @sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth h @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel l @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @itstaliaduh @cinki-the-black-goddess @thehomierobbstark @darkangelchronicles @bartierbakarimobisson @doublesidedscoobysnacks @blackpinup22 @tchokemedaddy @clydevevo @amirra88 @labelletemps @wawakanda-btch

[im-tops-bottom]

"watch where you are going you little piece of shit" Loki says as he shoves Tony aside before walking off with his boyfriend.

"god Loki and Stephen are such assholes. They were made for each other. I don't know how they became popular" Clint says as he helps Tony up and brushes the dust and dirt off.

"well they are good looking, Loki does acting while Stephen does music, they are rich and known how to make friends easily"

"and they are bullies. You coming over tonight?"

"I am not third wheeling tonight. You need to start spending some alone time with Natasha dammit. I'll be fine. Aunt Peggy said I could stay over tonight because apparently dad is drunk and mum is high. Whoo what else is new"

"I can't wait until this year is over. Then you, me, Nat, Pepper, Happy, Arthur, Diana, Rhodey and Carol can start getting ready for MIT. Hopefully those dumb shits didn't sigh up for it"

"seeing as those two love to bully me, I wouldn't put it past them. Rumour has it they are returning back to England. "

"oh poor Peter Parker. Better not tell Aunt May or she'll drag Peter back to America. If those two weren't bullying you then they were bullying your cousin"

"I know. I'll have a chat with Peter tonight and see what he wants to do and if I want to live with all parts of my body working to perfection then I'll tell May afterwards"

"this sucks. Come one lets head to our classes"

Clint drops Tony off to his class before glaring at the golden couple sitting right at the back as he makes his exit. Tony sighs at his table in front of Stephen and Loki. He ignores their attempts as he reads through his homework to make sure everything is correct. He quickly hands it over to the teacher before his bullies takes it off him and does something stupid.

After a couple of minutes of torture everyone settles down as principal Fury comes into the class with two baddass troublemaking looking hotties that has Tony feeling all kinds of things.

"class you have two new students today. They transferred from Hydra High to here to complete their last year of school"

Tony gulps because Hydra High was one of the worst schools in America. All the troublemakers went there and if you weren't one then you became one usually during your first year. They were full of tough people that always caused trouble. Normally students were from mobs/mafia backgrounds and knew the prison system really well. Security was big there that it made it look like you were at an American airport. These two with their leather jackets, ripped jeans, slicked back hair and smirks looked completely dangerous. Usually not the type of people Tony would want to be around and yet he felt like he was getting a boner.

Tony watched Fury leave after saying something and then looked at the 2 new students who, to his surprise, was staring straight at him. The blond one smiled and looked around the classroom getting ready to speak first.

"hi my name is Steve Rogers. Please call me Steve. I look forward to getting to know everyone real well"

Tony gulps as Steve eyes Tony up as he says his last sentence. Tony looks away as he feels his face heat up before his eyes lay on the second person who hasn't stopped looking at him.

"hey the name is James Barnes. Everyone can call me Bucky. Just like what Stevie said I look forward to meeting everyone. Let's make this last year"

Tony lightly gasps as Bucky smirks right at Tony as he finishes his last sentence.

"special"

The teacher pats Bucky and Steve on the back before telling them to go sit next to Tony. Steve sits on his left while Bucky sits on his right.

"Tony will show you around and help you with whatever you need until you get used to this place."

The teacher puts on a movie that the class will be writing an essay on as she sits down and goes through everyone's homework.

Tony now not only has to ignore the two douchebags but now also the two hot guys. He stares right at he tv as he gets ready to take down notes. He eye rolls as he hears stephen and Loki speaking to the two new people.

"I feel sorry for you guys"

"why?"

"you got stuck with this worthless piece of shit. How about hanging out with us and we'll show you boys a good time. It'll be way better than doing boring stuff. He never shuts up if you so much mention science or robots. He's just a waste of time and space. You wouldn't wanna be caught dead hanging around him"

"well lucky for me"

Tony feels Steve's hand on Tony's thigh

"and Bucky"

Tony feels Bucky's ha- wait is that metal? - on Tony's other thigh.

"are into pretty Bambi eyed brunettes who are into science. We'll probably won't be able to to hang out with anyone much at the moment anyway. We are signing up with the schools football team. We were jocks at our old school but got tired of the team being useless and transferred after hearing this school has the best team"

"damn straight we do. The best team ever"

Everyone looks up and much to Tony's relief it's Arthur. Arthur wraps a muscular arm around Tony.

"this is one of our best players in our team. He chose not to be Captain no matter how many times people ask. Arthur why can't you just be Captain. Ditch these losers and join the elite"

"you guys must be new. Just call me Arthur. Anyway come on Tony, Bruce has come returned and he's kicking up a storm."

"why doesn't Bruce handle Bruce?"

"ugh you got a cute scientist and a good looking rich man who are massive idiots for hanging out with you losers"

"no one asked you Stephen"

"well you should be handsome. Stephen is way too gorgeous not to look at or talk to"

"ugh I'm gonna vomit. Come on Tony"

Tony packs up and Arthur leads him out the door.

"are those two dating?"

"hell no. Tony isn't Arthur's type. If he had a vagina and looked like our best fighter Diana then yeah."

"that's good"

"got that right. Everyone would make Tony's life a living hell if wprd got out that those two were dating"

After class finishes Steve and Bucky head off to the cafeteria. After they are unable to find Tony they ask around and find out that he left campus to go eat with his friends.

They get out to the carpark after finding out where Tony went and took off.

Meanwhile Tony just finished eating and went out of the cafe with Clint and Natasha to smoke. Tony took off his glasses and stuffed it in his pocket before he sparked up.

They got to chatting about plans for the weekend when sounds of motorbikes come driving into the carpark and park right in front of the 3.

The three gasp as helmets come off to reveal Steve and Bucky. Steve is the first to notice and smiles.

"hey Tony"

Bucky seals the deal with a filthy smirk that promises good things to those that behave and a deep gravelly Brooklyn accented voice that would probably be able to make anyone harden and come in seconds.

"hey doll. Was wondering where you went off too. Had to have Stephen and Loki show us around. Let me tell you, it was real boring"

"ah yeah sorry about that. Did you guys follow me here?"

"no don't be silly baby. We didn't want to spend anymore time with the dynamic duo. Who are your friends?"

"the names Clint. This is my girl Natasha. So you two must be Steve and Bucky. The incredibly hot duo my friend can't seem to stop talking about"

"you talk about us?"

"you find us hot?"

Tony finishes his smoke and strolls back inside looking like a tomato much to Clint's delight.

"come in guys. I like you two. Come and kick back with us"

Steve and Bucky nod as they follow the couple inside. Clint places 2 seats on either side of Tony much to everyone's amusement (excluding Tony who looks horrified) and then introduces the 2 new people.

Everyone starts talking about school, life, memes and just random things. They all completely forget about school and it's not until Tony receives a call from his drunk father that they realize it.

"hey Tony what's wrong?"

"my dad wants me home. He told me I can't go to my auntie's house because I'm in trouble"

"what happened?"

"school called. Check your times"

Everyone except for Steve and Bucky look horrified.

"how can you two not be horrified?"

Steve grabs a hold of Tony's hand and drags him outside. Bucky stands up and pays for everyones food.

"we don't have parents to complain to. We have a mafia leader who is friends with principal Fury and he already knows what we are like so he let's us be."

"that's so cool. Well I better ring my mum before she has a field day over this"

"everyone Protocol Sunshine"

"what's protocol sunshine?"

"we use Tony getting bullied and how his parents are as a cover up if we so much as miss just one class because we all talk too much"

"oh that's cool. Well we will take Tony home and see all of you tomorrow."

"keep Tony safe"

Bucky nods not realizing to how much that one sentence means to Tony's group of friends. Friends that now Steve and Bucky are apart of. They may be badasses but it doesn't stop them from trying to be normal and makes friends they feel safe and good around.

Bucky sees a confused Tony sitting behind Steve and sits on his bike. He guesses Steve explained what they were going to do. The bikes turn on and they set off.

Tony is internally panicking because not only is his dad pissed off about school but he's not going to be too happy about this. Oh boy is he gonna get his ass kicked.

The boys drop tony off and give him their numbers before placing a kiss on each cheek and heading off. Tony takes a few breathes before making his way into the Lions den.

As soon as he steps inside he is immediately kicked down the front porch stairs as his drunk father starts yelling at him about all sorts of things. He starts beating the crap out of Tony causing Tony to scream in pain. He hears voices and sees his dad get knocked out before he blacks out.

Once Tony wakes up he feels pressed up against him. In front of him much to his surprise is Steve who looks like he had been crying. Behind him was Bucky who also looked like he had been crying. Tony frowns and wonders why do they care as he slowly gets out of the bed.

After going toilet, he heads to the kitchen and notices a tall man cooking something.

"uhm hello?"

The tall man quickly turns around and smiles as he motions for Tony to sit. Tony sits at the table and jumps as he hears a voice next to him.

"don't worry about him. He's mute and deaf. Hope you know asl"

"I do. One of my friends has a hearing aid"

"that's great. It'll come in handy. The names Friday and that's my older brother Jarvis. He's getting tea ready while our younger brother Vision is dealing with your shitty parents"

"shitty parents? Wait what happened?"

"well"

Tony jolts again from another voice and looks up to see Steve and Bucky coming into the kitchen. They sit down and explain how they saved Tony's life. Steve knocked Tony's dad out while Bucky called for the police. Thankfully they had Vision and his partner attend the scene so they didn't have to worry about false names and what not. Then they talk Tony back to theirs so their own nurse can patch Tony up.

"thank you guys so much for that. How?"

"well we wanted to turn around and come ask you on a date but then we turned into knights in shining armor. Our dad should be back soon. We told him what had happened so he wants to come home and meet you. We are trying very hard to prevent him from adopting you"

"but why?"

"well it would be wierd dating and adoptive brother. Bucky isn't adopted so it's not that wierd"

"no I mean why are you two doing all of this?"

"well for me it was love at first sight and I think Steve just wanted to bang you"

They talk and get to know one another until Vision returns home.

[braincoins]

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I unexpectedly had an open morning.” Shiro was already unbuttoning his shirt.

“For what you’re reporting, I would make time for you,” Dr. Ulaz said. “Can you describe it for me again, now that I have my recorder going?”

“Oh, sure. Well, I can try. It’s...” He shrugged out of his shirt. “...it’s like a hum, sort of? But not audible. And not really tangible. It’s just this... this sense of something being off, like something’s misaligned or like... I don’t know.”

“But it works okay?” The doctor held his hands out.

Shiro extended his arm so he could look at it. “Works fine. It works just like an arm.”

Ulaz was poking at it, turning it over and back and looking at it carefully. “Does the sensation change at all when you’re showering, when you’re doing delicate hand movements, when you’re... well, I don’t know if you’ve been scuba-diving with it.”

Shiro chuckled. “No, I haven’t.”

“So no pressure changes.”

“None. And no, there’s no change at all, no matter what I’m doing. And, like I said, it’s just like my regular arm and hand. I forget it’s not, most of the time. I even...” He stopped as he realized what he’d been about to say.

Dr. Ulaz looked up from the arm. “What?”

Shiro could feel himself blushing. “Nevermind.”

The doctor arched an eyebrow. “You’re using it in all ways as a normal hand and arm.”

“Yes, let’s just leave it at that.” He wasn’t going to get into some of what he’d been doing with his right hand yesterday. “But that weird sort of not-really-hum never goes away. I can generally ignore it, if there’s something else to distract me - work, or whatever - but whenever I have any mental downtime, it’s there again, and I can feel it, and...”

“I can deactivate it,” Ulaz offered. “That would let us see if this ‘hum’ persists even when it’s not powered on. Of course, it would have to be turned back on again, and...”

“And it’ll light all my nerves up again?” When the doctor nodded, Shiro winced. He could still remember that moment, as clear as glass and as painful as shards under his fingernails. He didn’t want to go through that again if he didn’t have to. “What else can we do besides that?”

“Hm. Well, you’re due for your check-in. I’ll send Krolia in to start that while I see if I can get hold of a scanner. Just wait here.” He turned his recorder off, picked it up, and left.

Shiro shivered a little - why were doctors’ offices always so freaking cold? - but figured he probably shouldn’t put his shirt back on just yet. There was a knock on the door and, when it opened, he was hit in the face with a gown. 

“There you go, I’m sure you’re dying of hypothermia,” Krolia said, shutting the door behind her. 

He laughed as he pulled it on. “It’s like you’re psychic.”

“Every patient complains about the cold,” she said. “Frankly, I would, too.” She had a cardigan on as she looked at her tablet. “Okay, you know the drill.”

He sighed and held out his left arm as she approached. “I am maintaining normal daily activities and have nothing unusual to report, other than what I’ve already brought up with Dr. Ulaz.”

She put the little wristband computer on his left wrist and he dutifully bent his arm to bring it close to his heart. She pushed the button to start it, then grabbed the thermometer. “Getting enough sleep?”

“For the most part.”

She arched an eyebrow at him as she swiped the thermometer across his forehead. “And what does that mean?” It beeped, and she glanced at it, then typed in the results. “Normal temperature,” she murmured.

“It means I have a new girlfriend.”

She snorted without looking up from her tablet. “Oh, I see. Well, any complaints on that front then?”

“No, everything’s fine and she’s not freaked out about the arm.”

“Good, I’m glad. Keith will be glad, too.” The wristlet beeped, and she came over and took it off of him. “BP’s good.” She set it down and recorded that as well. “Here comes your favorite part.” She started pulling on her gloves.

“I hate needles,” he groused as he held his left arm back out and made a fist.

“So do most people. Be glad you have nice, easy-to-find veins.” She fetched an already-labeled collection tube out of her cardigan pocket, and started gathering the rest of her supplies from the drawers.

“I am.”

“Also that I was top of my phlebotomy class.” She wrapped a blue tourniquet around his arm, just above his elbow.

“I’m very glad about that.”

She poked at his inner elbow. “So tell me about the new girlfriend.”

“She’s amazing.”

She laughed. “That’s all I’m going to get? ‘Amazing’?”

“Smart, funny, gorgeous... the whole package.”

“You sound like you’re already head over heels. Little poke.”

He hissed as she stuck the needle in. “Well, that’s only because I am.”

Krolia was keeping her eyes on her work, ever the professional. The tourniquet released with a snap sound. “Oh, is this someone you’ve been pursuing for a while?” She was filling the tube.

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that. More like someone I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance with.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked out.” She pressed some cotton squares down and pulled the needle out. He took over holding the squares down for her. “Thank you.” She wrapped around his arm with that clingy purple stuff hospitals always used - well, the stuff they had here was purple, anyway - and she tore off the end. “Thirty minutes, you know the drill.”

“Yes’m.”

“Do I get to see a picture?” she teased.

“I don’t have any that are suitable for showing to the general public,” he replied.

“Naughty!” she said with a laugh.

“No, really, I just don’t have any yet. We, uh... were too busy to take pictures.” He cleared his throat.

She just kept laughing and patted his shoulder. “I’m very happy for you, Shiro.” 

Dr. Ulaz came back in then, and Krolia rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to knock before you come into a room with a patient in it,” she reminded him.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding distracted. He was looking down at a device Shiro hadn’t seen before. 

“What is that?”

“Scanner,” was all Dr. Ulaz said. “Made especially for this sort of thing. I still don’t know how to work it very well. We only have the one for the whole floor, so I don’t get to use it much.”

“Hell, I’m surprised you found it,” Krolia put in. “I swear it hides. Here, let me see it.”

He passed it over to her and she fiddled with some buttons. “You have to select the prosthetic study function,” she told him as he looked over her shoulder - he was much taller than she was, “and then... this is an MX... attached and active... where did that menu go?”

“Is it that one?” 

“Let’s see if... yes! Okay, good to go.” She handed it back to him. 

“Sorry,” he apologized to Shiro.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He held his right arm out this time but then his phone pinged at him. “Wait, hold on! That’s my girlfriend!”

“Middle of the day booty call?” Krolia teased.

“Unlikely. She's just bored at work,” he lied smoothly. In fact, it was Allura screaming at him about why he hadn’t texted her. He typed in an apology and an explanation of his check-up.

“He has a new girlfriend,” Krolia explained to Dr. Ulaz. “Clearly they’re not past the ‘sickeningly sweet’ part yet.”

“Oh, that explains it.”

Shiro cleared his throat and sent the text, then held his right arm out again. “Sorry about that, go ahead.”

Dr. Ulaz pressed a button and the device lit up. He ran it over the arm, then asked, “Turn it over,” and did it again. “Thank you,” he said, and Shiro lowered his arm.

His phone pinged again: Allura double-checking with him that he was okay. 

“No sexting while we’re standing right here,” Krolia told him with a grin.

“We’re not sexting. Yet.”

“Yet,” she repeated with a laugh.

“Everything’s reading as it should be,” the doctor said. “Perfectly within parameters, not even close to a high or low end.” He looked up. “Yet you’re the only one with an MX model who’s complained of such a hum.”

Shiro shrugged. “Maybe I’m just a sensitive flower.”

Krolia barked a laugh. “Okay, you two have fun; I have to run this sample down to the lab. Tell your girlfriend that your friend’s mom says to treat you right or I’ll kick her ass.”

He laughed. “That’s a fight I’d pay money to watch, actually.” 

She chuckled as she left, but Dr. Ulaz was still frowning at his screen. He set the scanner down and looked back to Shiro.

“No headaches or migraines? Dizziness, vision problems?”

“Nothing like that,” he confirmed. “I’m fine, aside from this hum.”

“Well, according to our protocols, I ought to send you to the hospital for overnight monitoring.”

Now it was Shiro’s turn to frown. “I can’t do that; I have a story to cover this afternoon.”

“I did say ‘according to our protocols,’“ Ulaz reminded him. “I don’t see a reason to do that, however. And, frankly, the person who wrote the protocols is no longer with us.”

“Dr. King?” he guessed.

Ulaz nodded. “She designed the study, the protocols for it, and the prototype prosthetics. Personally designed; she wouldn’t let anyone else help her with it, even. That is... unusual, to say the least.”

“Maybe a little worrying?” he asked, feeling uneasy himself.

Another nod from the doctor. “I gave you my personal number, yes?” When he nodded, Ulaz continued, “Do not call here for me on this issue again. Call only my private number. You seem to be in good health, but I have... misgivings. Any hour, day or night, if something goes wrong, call me. I will meet you at your home if need be.”

That gave Shiro pause. “How worried should I be about this?”

“About this hum? I don’t know. And that, combined with the unusual... procedure behind this study is what has me worried. For now, just keep an eye on it, on any changes, good or bad. I’m going to extend your check-in period though; it will give you a good reason to come in here once a week, so we can make sure you stay in good health. Any emergencies, go to the hospital, but give them my name and number, yes?”

He nodded. “Got it. Thanks for not just writing this off as my imagining it.”

“You are welcome.” Ulaz eyed the arm as if he distrusted it personally, then left Shiro with that lingering sense of uneasiness.

He frowned as he swapped out the gown for his shirt. What is this thing I have attached to me?

{The Adventures of Starlight & Paladin}

[queencatherynerhys]

Taken - Part 3 TRR AU

A/N: Seriously, you guys, it’s amazing that you are keeping up with this series because oh my goodness I am a terrible person! I don’t know where these diabolical ideas come from! I love you guys! Thank you so much for the support. This is an amazing fandom! Please, please, don’t hate me!

Summary: Liam is furious. He is in the capitol, in the comfort of his palace while the love of his life is being held captive and tortured because of him. How will he and his friends handle this devastation?

Tag List: @captainkingliam @decisso @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @laniquelove @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig @trianiasti @ranishajay

Previous Parts:

Part 1│ Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the materials used in this story!

 Liam knows there will be no sleeping tonight. He sits on the edge of the bed in solitude, replaying the video in his head. The image of Catheryne’s contorted face is burned into his memory. He will never be able to erase it from his head no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much time passes. His entire being is racked with guilt. It’s my fault. I am the reason they are doing this to her. This damned crown has cost me more than I can endure. Maybe I should comply with their demands. I can abdicate and leave this fucking world of kissing nobles’ asses, diplomacy and assassins. Catheryne will be safe, but I know she wants me to fight back. That is what she would want me to do. She would say giving up is weakness, leaving my people to these coward’s clutches is unforgivable. She would never forgive me for taking the easy road, but how am I supposed to just sit here when I know she is out there suffering?! Some king I am!

Please, Catheryne, please hang on, my love. Be strong. I am coming for you. I promise I will not rest till I find you!

Meanwhile, Catheryne is thrown into a dark, damp holding cell. The only light being streamed from the barred window of her prison. Her eyes adjust to her surroundings. She notices an uncomfortable bed set up by the wall. She touches the wall and feels an uneven cold, rough structure, as if she’s being held in a stone cave. Where the hell am I? Her body aches from the torture she endured, but her mind races for a plan to escape somehow. I gotta get out of here! She runs to the bars of her jail and shakes it to find some sort of weakness in the structure, only to be met with empty hope.

“Don’t bother trying,” a weak voice says from across the dungeon. “There’s no way of escaping from this hell,” she can clearly hear the hopelessness in his tone. “Who…who are you?” she squeaks at the stranger. “Dr. Mallon, my name,” he replies as he limps into her view. He has a makeshift splint on his left leg. He is undoubtedly underweight, almost malnourished for his size. The feature that intimidates her the most is his eyes. They look so sunken, so empty, so broken. “I’m Catheryne,” she greets her cellmate. “I know who you are. They’ve been talking about you for weeks. Apparently, you’re the lady that captured the king’s heart. Looks like they’ve found his weakness,” he informs her. “If you don’t mind me asking, what…uhm…what happened to your leg?” she probes. “They broke it cause I refused to get out of my cell. Said if I don’t walk out, they’ll drag me out. I refuses and here I am.”

“Oh…” she is stunned and scared for the near future. What are they going to do to me? I…I don’t think I can handle more of torture. “One more question, if you will, how long…how long have you been held here?”

“Two weeks, said they need me for something, still don’t know why though,” he answers, his voice quavering. Two weeks? He’s only been here two weeks and he already looks like that? What is going to happen to me in here? Liam please…please find me quick! I don’t know how long I’ll last in here.

 A week has passed since the gang’s return to the palace. Liam refused to address the press until he had a handle on the search team for Catheryne and Drake’s medical situation. The doctors in Vienna said that the bullet was a through and through, and it didn’t puncture any major organs. He should be arriving soon.

Liam is in his study with a bottle of Sunset Rum, one of the strongest liquor in the world. He needs something to take the edge off. He hasn’t slept at all, mostly afraid of the nightmares he’s been having since the video last week, and it was always the same dream.

It starts off as they normally do. He’s in the ballroom during the Homecoming Ball. He is giving his speech and introducing Catheryne as the new duchess in court and his future queen. He couldn’t be happier than that moment. He could finally declare his love for her. Then, that terrifying moment when all hell breaks loose. The lights turn off and the crowd surges around him. The gunshots have terrified the guests turning them into a panic mob.

His security team surrounds him, following protocol, but all he can think of is Catheryne. “Catheryne! Where is Catheryne? Guards, protect her!” The light flickers back on, blinding him momentarily. Then, he sees her standing not even 30 feet away from her. She sees the assassin pointing the gun at her. His greatest fear unfolding right before his very eyes. Catheryne, I have to get to her. He fights the attackers in front of him, hoping to make a path toward her. He hears the loud bang originating from the gun. NOOOO Catheryne!!! He stares at her, it’s as if time turned to slow motion. Pain, fear and anguish coursing through him, but then he sees Drake block the bullet from making it’s intended target. I must get to her. He uses all his energy to round off the remaining assassins. He allows himself to take a breath from the tragic accident that just occurred in his home.

Then, he hears her terrifying scream. “LIAM!! Help me!!” His eyes land on hers. She is lock on a chokehold and being dragged outside. He sprints to her aid, not giving a damn about his security’s protests. He hears them calling out from behind him.

He is in a dark hallway of the palace. Portraits of past ancestors lining the ornate wall. Five feet away from where he stands, Catheryne kneels as a captive. She is crying and sobbing on the floor. Her captor is holding a gun to her head behind her. “Please, I am begging you. Don’t do this. She has nothing to do with this! It’s me you want. Take me instead. Please. I will get on my knees and beg.” Liam falls to his knees. A king will fall to save his queen.

“It’s quite too late for that, King Liam. Look around you. For decades and centuries, you and your ancestors have corrupted this country. You don’t deserve to lead this kingdom. You are weak. Your ancestors are unworthy. Now, your precious future queen shall pay the price.”

Catheryne stares at him and mouths the words “I love you” before the assassin pulls the trigger, shattering his heart. “NOOOOOO!!!” he screams at the top of his lungs as he watches the life from her beautiful, perfect eyes disappear. He looks up to see that the man has disappeared; It doesn’t matter. His whole word just died in front of him. He sobs as he crawls to her lifeless body in front of him. She already feels so cold. “Catheryne, no, no, no. Please come back. Please, my queen!! NOOOOOOO!!” He cradles her head in his hands, shaking her fragile frame and holding her tightly against his chest. He cries harder when he sees her eyes, her lovely brown eyes, open and frozen in fear. He pushes the hair out of the way, revealing her gorgeous face. He stains it with his bloody hands. Her blood, so much blood. Blood spilled because of his crown. He continues to beg as he lives his nightmare,“I’m so sorry, Catheryne, I’m so sorry. Oh, my love, please don’t leave me! I am begging you! I love you! I love you so much! Please…please…”

He always wakes up with a jolt, his clothes soaked with sweat and his face covered with tears.

He paces the space around his study, shaking the terrible recollection away from his mind. I must stay focused! For her. He hears a knock on the door and he finishes the content in his cup before answering it. He opens to reveal Drake standing on the other side of the doorway. “Liam, I’m sorry, man!” he walks in quickly heading to the liquor cart. He pours a significant amount in a glass and downs it before pouring another round. “I tried to come as soon as I heard the news, but the fucking hospital wouldn’t release me, said I had to heal first,” he tells his brother. “Liam, tell me what to do. I want to help as much as I can.”

“You can help Bastien track down Catheryne’s whereabouts,” Liam replies as he slumps down on one of the armchairs of his office. “I don’t know how much more I can take, Drake. It’s been a week and we still haven’t gotten any leads! Nothing from the ballroom or the video. I haven’t gotten any sleep since. My assistant is stressed about handling damage control. He wasn’t cut out for this situation. The press is clamoring for answers. What am I going to tell them, Drake? What the hell am I supposed to say? Do I give in to their demands? Or do I let them be pushed into fear? What if…what if we don’t find her in time?” he voices his concerns.

“No, Liam, I’m not going to let you think like that. You need to hold it in together. I know it must be tearing you apart, but you gotta do it for her. She needs you now more than ever. Now, I know you are holding a press conference in an hour, so we need to make sure you’re presentable,” he is taken aback by his friend suddenly being the responsible one, but he’s right.

The conference starts. Cameras flash, reporters clamoring for a statement as he steps out into the lawn outside of the palace. He makes his way to the podium set up in the center and puts on his stoic countenance, hoping the façade masks the turmoil underneath. “Citizens of Cordonia, I am here to make an official statement of the tragic incident that has occurred in the palace. I am relieved to say that there were no fatalities, although there were a few that were injured who are now getting the best treatment Cordonia has to offer. Regarding the video that the assailants have sent of Lady Catheryne and their threats, I am here to say that I will not be complying to their demands. If there is anything Lady Catheryne has taught me, it is not to give up amid tragedy. I am not going to take the easy way out. I am not going to let these would-be tyrants to rule our beautiful nation and wreak havoc and fear in our streets. Cordonia, stand in courage and be immovable. We, Cordonians, will survive and we will conquer just like we always have in the past if we fight together. Thank you, sadly, I do not have the time to answer any questions this afternoon.” He steps down the stand and quickly heads inside avoiding the microphones and cameras.

He heads back into his study, heading for another shot of liquor when suddenly his phone rings in his pocket. Ugh, if this is another empty report I will kill someone! He answers the device and the voice on the other end sends a chill down his spine, “That was a touching press conference, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid it’s not enough,” he recognizes the voice from the video. He sprints towards the security room, ordering them to track the phone call. “You’d be glad to know that your precious duchess is still alive. I’m quite surprised she’s lasted this long even with our more severe methods. And I must say I see why you have taken her for liking, she’s got quite the fire and the mouth, but don’t worry in a few days I will break that hope.”

“Listen to me and you mark my words, you bastard. I don’t know who you are, but I can promise you one thing. I am going to devote all time and all resources to searching for you. If you let her go now, I can tell you that your punishment will be swift. But if you don’t, I promise you I will look for you, I will find you and I will kill you.” Liam whispers, his voice calm yet dangerous.

“Good luck. I hope you love the video I sent,” the phone call ends.

[sovoidstrawberry]

Safe Haven (Sirius Black Fan-fiction)

TW: I guess talks of the WW

Part I

The Wizarding War brew with a new certainty in the summer of 1977. As Death Eaters and Aurors alike resorted to new tactics to hunt down each other, the tensions of the war cracked under pressure and people were slipping through the cracks. Sons and Daughters of either side were being captured and held as bait. Many Hogwarts students had nowhere to hide in this mania. And where there is a demand soon will come a supply. A haven was set up for all who needed refuge between the academic years. No person was too dangerous to hide out at the long-abandoned Murphy’s second summer home. The home was charmed to be larger than it looked, as it appeared only to be a small stone manor with vines climbing up the side due to lack of upkeep. The manor was a large place but not large enough to comfortably fit 33 people, so the haven members had long been forced to double up to save space. The haven had also been charmed to be one of the safest places outside of Hogwarts itself, using many of the same charming methods the school had. But it had one fatal flaw. While it had at one time been a booming plantation, it had been decades since any Murphy had step foot in the place. The haven lacked enough food to feed their escapees. 

"Will it work?" 

"How am I meant to know?"

"How can we send them on a suicide mission?" 

"Look we don't have time for this, we can't keep smuggling food from stores to feed everyone. We're too big for that. This is our only hope."

 The hushed voices discussed the fate of the camp. The mission now was to find a food source for the rest of the summer. There was still two months left till everyone left for Hogwarts again and there would be no point in hiding from the Death Eaters if they all starved instead. The camp held 33 people who had nowhere to go over the summer, be it that their families died in the war or were trying to recruit them into the war, many hid out at the Irish farm. One of the few implicit rules outside of safety protocol was the lack of judgment at the camp. Anyone who thought too highly of themselves would quickly get shot down as everyone at the camp were equals. The pure blood mania would not taint them. The mission plan was simple: request Kylie’s parents for some help. The Murphy’s were wealthy business owners who ran a chain of muggle fashion shops within the wizarding world. With the amount of food that they wasted at the end of their weekly parties the family could afford to feed them all for three more summers. Getting to the Murphy’s would also be the most convenient as they were the closest to the camp by far. However, the Murphy’s agreement would not be an easy feat.  Despite the fact that their second youngest daughter ran the haven, the family was well known in the wizarding world for being a completely Gryffindor bloodline. Until Kylie that is. Kylie had found herself sorted into Slytherin at the beginning of her seven years at Hogwarts, her family had been quick to voice their displeasure with her and since then favored the other four siblings over her no matter how hard she tried to be the perfect daughter. It also did not help that her perfect days were long over, and she rarely conversed with her parents and siblings as her rebellious phase in her fifth year had driven a wedge between them. Kylie knew now that she was the one at fault for the coldness of her family, but she still had yet to fix the matter, seeing as she was busy at the haven for the summer. 

“I don’t see why it is that we didn’t just floo here.” Chase Matthews stated as he looked around the Murphy Manor patio. 

The trip had been a painful one involving four portkeys and a pair of broomsticks that the two had sat upon for far too long. Kylie didn’t bother responding seeing as Chase knew fully well why they “didn’t just floo here." Chase simply enjoyed complaining. 

“So, ready to be home, Murphster?” Chase continued, messing with one of the many lion statues set on the front porch of the Murphy Manor. 

“More than ready, but we both know there’s still the better part of two months till we get there.” Kylie rang the doorbell, which gave off no sound the first, second, and third time she pressed it. “Guess this broke while I was gone,” she mumbled to herself as she took her fist and rapped onto the dark wood door. 

There were a couple seconds of silence before Chase began to speak again. “You know maybe we should-” the door swung open. 

Waiting behind the door was a young brunette with long brown hair wearing a short gold dress. Elia. Elia Murphy was Kylie’s younger sister and her arch enemy, seeing as Elia had all that Kylie had ever wanted. Elia was immediately placed in Gryffindor upon being sorted and never knew the jealousy Kylie secretly harbored since they were kids. Elia being the youngest got all that she ever wanted and had been spoiled beyond belief. She now was dating a year up into her sister's year. The infamous Sirius Black. Who now stood behind the gorgeous Elia in the living room, and beside him was James Potter. Elia’s big blue eyes widened at the sight of her ‘long lost sister’ and she immediately went in for a hug. Despite the jealousy for Elia’s normal life, Kylie loved her sister more than anything and was quick to return it. 

“Where have you been this past month, we’ve all been worried sick.” Despite the polite words seeping from her mouth, Kylie knew the we meant she.  

“I’ve been safe, don’t worry about me.” Kylie’s soft yet vague words left Elia feeling frustrated with her sister. “Is there a party tonight?” Kylie questioned, stepping into the manor and instinctively removing her tennis shoes. At this Chase quickly followed suit.

“No, just dinner with the Potters.” Elia replied shortly. ���Kylie seriously, I thought you had been kidnapped by Death Eaters, you know you shouldn’t hang around the crowd you do. It’s dangerous.” 

Kylie was not surprised to see few changes to the old living room, the fire place roaring as always. She waved at James and Sirius politely, muttering a “hey” to her childhood friend and his new friend. She walked in her mismatched socks over to the fireplace to crouch down and gain some color back before seeing her parents. 

“I’ve been with friends, the crowd I hang around is fine, though sometimes I question yours.” Kylie’s darted over to the infamous Sirius Black who she knew to be a massive playboy. “But, I did come here to do more than play catch up,” she stood, her face now red from having been so close to the fire, “I’m here to see Mom and Dad.” She explained as she turned to face her shorter sister.

“Why?” The response was curt and frustrated.  

“Why does any black sheep wish to see their rich parents? I need money.” Kylie’s response is intentionally misleading as in every situation she seems to wish to put up a front rather than explain herself. 

“You can’t just show up and ask them for money! Are you insane?” Elia’s rage would be something to worry about on any given day, but nothing was going to stop Kylie from helping the haven. 

“I can, and I will, there’s never any harm in asking.” Kylie frustration intertwined with each word as her eyes scanned the room for any indication of where her parents may have gone. 

“You Slytherins really have no shame, do you?” James Potter questioned, standing up, about to deliver a monologue on his hatred for the house. “No shame and no honor-” 

“Shut up.” It was at that moment that Kylie snapped. She didn’t know why it was that hearing her longtime friend disrespect her for the thousandth time was so awful. Maybe it was because she was in front of one of the haven members, maybe because she still yearned for the respect of her family, but this time she couldn’t bite her tongue.  “Do you know what I find shameful? I find it shameful that you dare speak of honor when you have none yourself. You have spent the last six years avoiding and ridiculing me to your so-called friends, so you could show off that you didn’t care for me anymore. As if you were never scared of exactly what happened to me. As if I never helped you with your insecurities. As if we had never spoken. And you dare insinuate me shameful? I am not the one who dropped you when you didn’t get placed into my house! I am not the one who judges an entire group of people based on prejudice. Do you know who I am now, really? I am a leader. I am a friend. I am a protector. I am everything you said I would become. No thanks to you.”

[dontshootmespence]

Two Foiled Proposals and The One That Counts

A/N: An anon requested that I do a follow-up to the JJ x Reader I did called Boss Lady Love. They asked for the two trying to propose to one another but getting interrupted by work, so the team helps out ;)

After outing yourselves to the team, your relationship with JJ had truly fallen into place. You were more comfortable together than ever before. Work was work. 

Everyone knew about your relationship, but besides the occasional squeeze of the hand or a peck on the cheek, everything remained strictly professional. 

As you’d promised Morgan from the day you first started, you rarely intruded on the BAU’s work. Despite what people might’ve led you to believe, they weren’t a rogue team, doing whatever they wanted while throwing protocol completely to the wind; they were a team with experience that knew human nature like the backs of their hands - and sometimes human nature and protocol didn’t mix. Since you rarely worked with the BAU and rather oversaw them, the team loved you even more; although they already did as an extension of JJ. 

Her friends had become your own and her family, team and parents included, became yours as well. You were 100 percent completely in love with the beautiful Jennifer Jareau; hopefully, she would say yes to spending the rest of her life with you. The ring had been sitting in your pocket for days now as you searched for the perfect moment to pop the important question.

For days you had been trying to think of the perfect time to propose, but you couldn’t think of anything more perfect that after a nice dinner at home together. It wasn’t your style or hers to do anything flashy; you were homebodies. So after making her favorite meal and setting the table, candles included, you’d called Emily to tell her it was okay to bring JJ home; your hopefully soon-to-be wife knew that you were making a special dinner, but she had no idea why so you’d asked Emily to occupy her for a few hours.

“What’s all this?” She asked as she walked through the door. “You made my favorite food...I love you.”

Smiling softly, you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers. “Cause I love ya. Wine?”

You held a glass of her favorite white wine. “Oh you do know me,” she giggled.

Dinner was delicious. You’d spent hours preparing and it all turned out amazing. It was the time you’d been waiting for. The ring was in your pocket. Just as you were about to go get it, your phone rang. “That’s the professional phone isn’t it?” JJ asked.

Nodding, you dropped your head in your hands. This was going to have to wait. “You have a case.”

Emily had been aware of your proposal plans so when JJ came in without a ring on she texted you frantically wondering if anything had gone wrong.

E: What happened? JJ has no ring on! Did she say no?

Y/N: No! You got called in on the case just as I was able to pull the ring out of my pocket.

E: Oh dammit. Damn job.

Y/N: Seriously. Getting in the way of my personal life and shit. Well, what am I gonna do. I’ll just have to put it off until another day.

Little did you know that cases would flood the Bureau for months. It never seemed like the right time. Either both of you were tired, or one or the other was tired, or you were working. You wanted JJ to be your wife, but you wanted your proposal to be romantic, and romance had not been in the air as of late.

“Emily, you have to help me. I want to think of the perfect way to propose, but I need a ring,” JJ said one day as they went to pick up coffees for the rest of the team. 

How was Emily supposed to tell her that Y/N was planning on proposing but kept getting screwed over by cases? She couldn’t...so...she’d just have to go alone with JJ. “How can I help?”

A smile shot across JJ’s face as she pulled out her phone and showed her a picture of the ring she had in mind; it was an oval cut gemstone, her birthstone, surrounded by small diamonds. “It’s beautiful,” Emily said. Y/N had gotten JJ something very similar. It was amazing how well they knew each other. “Completely her. She’d love it.”

“Okay good.” JJ put the phone back in her pocket and smiled; she was definitely going to go buy it after work. “Now I need a great way to propose. I want to do something at home, but I don’t know, I want to do something different. Help me.”

Over this past year with Y/N as unit chief, Emily had gotten to know her pretty damn well. She did have an idea of what she might enjoy. “What about incorporating it into your weekly blanket fort?” She suggested.

“We haven’t done that in a while,” JJ replied wistfully. “We’ve been so busy. But that might be great.”

“Yea,” Emily replied. “You could make her favorite foods. Like those chocolate chip cookies you make, pop in a movie and then pull out the ring! It would be adorable; she’d love it.”

JJ breathed a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d be able to think of something. Okay, that’s the plan.”

Hopefully, she’d be able to do it without getting interrupted.

Nope! No such luck. JJ bought the ring and had planned and planned. Cookies were made, blanket forts were built and JJ had told Y/N to set aside some time to have a date night considering they hadn’t in so long.

Just like when Y/N tried to propose, JJ’s attempt went a similar route, but instead of a call from the Bureau, Y/N got a call from her friend who’d ended up in the hospital after a car crash. 

Emily wasn’t a meddler; that was kind of Garcia’s department. But one of her best friends and one of her newest friends had been in the midst of proposing for a combined 9 months and hadn’t been able to get the question out, so one day Emily sent out an Emily to everyone but JJ and Y/N to see if they’d come to work early for a “secret meeting.”

“There better be a good reason I’m up this early,” Rossi said that morning.

Emily smiled and clapped her hands together. “It is a good reason.” She proceeded to explain the situation to the rest of the team. Y/N wanted to propose first, got screwed over by work. Then JJ tried to propose and Y/N’s friend had ended up in the hospital. “They need our help.”

“My true calling has arrived!” Garcia exclaimed excitedly.

It had taken Emily, Garcia, Tara, Rossi, Spencer, Matt and Luke nearly two weeks inside a giant mass text to figure out a way to get JJ and Y/N alone together so they could finally propose. Step one had been convincing both women to take off the exact same week-long vacation. Step two was a little more cumbersome and took a little more deliberation. Even though they were both homebodies, it seemed that every time they tried to propose at home, they got interrupted, so instead Garcia booked them at a beautiful hotel about three hours away that boasted a stunning botanical garden nearby.

The first day of their trip would include an event at the nearby garden; that’s where it would happen, Emily was sure of it. And of course the team would drive over the day after to congratulate them, or

The past months had flown by in a haze of cases, but Emily and the rest of the team had convinced you both to take some much deserved time off. In your absence, you made Emily the Acting Unit Chief. At first, being interrupted during your proposal had really bummed you out, but eventually you came to realize that although you wanted the paper - the ceremony, the wedding- eventually, what mattered most was that you loved each other through the good and the bad. Hell had been brought upon you both and yet you still made it through, stronger than ever. 

The gardens were beautiful. Paved stones underneath your feet held the clicks of your heels, forming a sort of rhythm that seemed perfect for the occasion. The pathway led through acres of gardens filled with flowers of all shapes, sizes and colors. The perfume filling your nose was natural, no sting of chemicals; just a mess of beautiful blooming flowers. It was peaceful. Really, it was everything you needed after so many months living life at a hectic pace. “This place is gorgeous,” JJ said as you moseyed your way over a small bridge near a lake.

After sitting on a bench in the midst of the waterfall of colors and scents for nearly an hour, you both decided to head to the room for the night - snuggle. God, you hadn’t done that in so long. 

Well, maybe you did a bit more than snuggling.

The following morning you woke up contented, satisfied and relaxed. “Am I dreaming?” JJ laughed, stretching as she woke up beside you. 

“You mean the fact that we’re relaxed and not at work?”

JJ snuggled into you as she chuckled. “Yea. It feels like this last year or so has been working against us.”

Well, that was definitely the case for you. You’d been so close to proposing before. The ring was in your bag. Reaching down, you pulled it up to the night stand. “Definitely. But we’ve made it through it all.”

“That’s because we’re meant to be. You know I wanted to ask you something - Month’s ago.”

She did?

“And what work got in the way?”

“Yea,” she replied. Her sleep-ridden eyes were now fully awake and very soft, almost hesitant. “I wanted to ask you to marry me.”

“Really?” You laughed. “I-I was going to ask you to marry me.”

“Seriously?” She rolled over you and pressed a kiss to your neck. “When?”

“Remember about nine months back when I made dinner and got you white wine and then you got called on a case?”

“That long ago?”

The two of you devolved into a fit of silent tears and heartfelt kisses before you grabbed the ring box from your purse. Apparently, she had one too.

“On the count of three?” You asked.

“One...two...three...JJ will you marry me?”

“Will you marry me, Y/N?”

Simultaneously, you screamed, clapping your hands over your mouths because it was early in the morning and people were probably still asleep. “Yes,” you replied. “Yes I will.”

Tear-filled kisses were exchanged as the rings were slipped onto the other one’s fingers. You still planned on going to breakfast, but with all of the excitement, it happened a little later than you’d intended, and of course, you had to send a text to the team with your rings to let them in on the big news. “Oh god, Y/N, this is beautiful,” JJ breathed warmly, still in awe of the ring you'd gotten her.

“Only the best for my future wifey.”

Hours after you had originally planned, you entered the elevator to head to breakfast. You should’ve expected it when the doors opened.

“Congratulations!” 

The entire team was there with signs included. “Did you all plan this?” You asked. JJ was still in stunned silence, hugging all your friends as they told her how happy they were for you both. 

“I mean technically we couldn’t plan everything 100 percent,” Emily laughed. “But we were definitely hoping! I think you’ve waited long enough.”

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[kinkykinard]

In Over Your Head

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy X Reader. Prompt: Alternative coffee shop AU. Word Count: 3247. Warnings: None. Rating: Teen+. Genre: Fluff. Summary: After watching him swim laps almost daily for close to a year, you finally get the chance to talk to the man you’ve been eyeing, though not at all in the way you’d expected. Beta: @starshiphufflebadger. Author’s Note: For @yourtropegirl! My apologies for how later this is!  Thank you for all that you do for our fandom (and all of the others you belong to, too), and I hope you stick around for a long, long time!  We love you, Heather! <3

In Over Your Head

You smile inwardly as you stroll along the platform separating the two Olympic sized swimming pools in the middle of the city’s premier aquatic complex.  He’s here again; the handsome stranger you’ve been watching swim for nearly a year. You’re mesmerized by the way the light catches the droplets of water that cling to his skin every time he comes up for a breath of air, the way his muscles move beneath the skin and sinew that covers them, by the gorgeous hazel eyes you know are hiding behind the reflective goggles he’s wearing.  You’re so intent on watching him that it’s a chore to have to pull your gaze away to check all the corners of the pool with every length you walk along the platform. Even though he’s the only one in the facility at the moment however, you know you have a job to do. The sound of the water splashing with his every stroke becomes hypnotic as the minutes pass and time seems to go by even more slowly for a while.  You hope for a distraction but find none; the pool is still completely deserted aside from him.  Glancing at your watch briefly, you sigh and shake your head: only three more hours to go until the end of your shift. Another several long minutes pass before the sound of a splash shakes you out of your reverie and you glance over just in time to watch the handsome stranger climb up the ladder near the far end of the pool.  Guarding protocols be damned, you find yourself walking swiftly across the deck and over to where he’s plucking his towel up off of a nearby bench.  Placing yourself so you can see all entrances to the pool area in case anyone else suddenly graces you with their presence and you have to get back to work, you casually hook your thumbs in the waistband of your shorts. “Enjoy your swim?”  You ask, hoping your tone sounds more casual to his ears than it does to your own.

He smiles as he runs the towel over his hair, leaving it sticking up in places as he turns to look at you. “Are you kidding?”  He says.  “There’s no one around, it’s like having my own pool with my own personal lifeguard.” He winks and picks up his water bottle, taking a long draught as you feel your face heat at his words. “Not that you’ll need saving any time soon,” you say with an inward grimace, sure you’re going to derail the conversation in some awkward way very soon if you don’t make an escape.  “I’ve been watching you swim for months; you’re a natural.” There it is.   You’ve just admitted to staring at the guy every time he’s been there and you’re sure he’s about to give you a look, but instead he laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing natural about it, I’ve been swimming my whole life,” he explains. “I’d love to hear more about that some time,” you say softly. Stop it! “I’d like that,” he says warmly, picking up his towel again and angling his body toward the changerooms.  “I’ve got to run, I’ve got a shift starting in half an hour, but I’ll hold you to it.  I’ll catch you next time…” “Y/N,” you say somewhat breathily, your mind racing at the implications of your somehow impossibly successful flirting. “Y/N,” he repeats, holding out a hand to shake yours.  “Until then.” You nod in response and reach out, returning the handshake, feeling a flutter in your chest at the warmth and firmness of his grip. “Until then,” you echo, letting go once more. He leaves the pool deck with one last wink and any memory you may have had of his grasp dissolves away as the cacophony of children’s laughter bounces off of the walls around you and you realize a group of moms and tots has entered the kiddie pool across the way.  Sighing inwardly, feeling robbed of the joy you felt in the immediate wake of his touch, you turn on your heel, pick up a flutter board just in case, and make your way over to where the action is. Your eyes stay on the kids for the remainder of your shift, but your heart and mind are somewhere else entirely.

A few days later, you’re seated in the front row of a small number of tables and chairs in one of the complex’s fitness classrooms.  You and about a third of the rest of the complex’s staff – about fifteen people – are awaiting the start of your annual first aid and CPR recertification course. Rumor has it the complex has invited a trauma surgeon to present the course this year as part of a new initiative that helps teach not only the basics, but more about how the actions of first responders affect long-term patient outcomes in hopes that a smoother, more efficient first response plan can be drafted and initiated to encourage better patient prognoses.   You’re just taking a swig from your water bottle a moment later when you hear the door to the classroom open.  Glancing over, you watch your supervisor walk in followed closely by someone familiar looking.  It takes you a second, but you realize the man is the one you’ve been watching swim for the longest time.  He looks even more handsome dry and dressed in a well-tailored black suit and blue button-down shirt.  As he sets down his brief case and glances at all of the supplies gathered around him for teaching, your supervisor calls the room to order. “Thank you all for coming out,” she says brightly.  “Now, I’d like you all to give a warm welcome to Dr. Leonard McCoy, chief of surgery at Northside General.  Please give him your undivided attention, ask questions, and make the most of these next few hours.” You heard her words, but stopped paying attention after she had introduced him.  You got too busy staring at him wide-eyed and acutely focused. Chief of surgery?! You’re too busy being amazed at the fact that someone in as prestigious a position as his would give you the time of day and take you up on your offer of coffee some time to realize that your supervisor has left and Dr. McCoy has started his lecture.  When your thoughts finally catch up to the present, you frantically scramble to pull out your notepad and pen, nearly flinging the entire set up off of the table.  Chewing the inside of your lip from the embarrassment, you slowly and quietly slide down in your seat a bit and start jotting things down. After nearly an hour of lecture which you’re finding both fascinating and a little bit over your head, Dr. McCoy breaks off the talking and starts talking about some of the basic skills of first aid and CPR – the ABCs. “Now, I’d like you all to break off into pairs,” he instructs.  “I see we’ve got an odd number in the room, which actually works to our advantage.  I’ll need someone up here to help me demonstrate some of these skills anyway.” You try your best to disappear from view as he glances down at you and you whip your head from side to side, looking for a partner.  It’s to no avail – you’re the only one sitting in the very front row. “Y/N,” he says brightly.  “Would you be so kind as to assist me?” Biting back an impulsive no, you give him a quick nod and get to your feet, smoothing down your employer-issued shorts and t-shirt.  Making your way to the front of the room, you take a seat up on the table in front of him so you’re clearly visible to the others in the room and promptly proceed to tuning him out in favor of focusing on not fidgeting uncomfortably instead. You try to ignore your coworkers’ eyes flickering between you and him, but you’ve never particularly enjoyed being up in front of people, let alone when you’re already flustered by the attractive man hovering over you.  You aren’t left to space out for long, though, as suddenly you feel Dr. McCoy’s hand land on your shoulder and you’re startled out of your thinking. “Sorry,” he says with an apologetic expression. “Now, your only job is to relax while I go over some assessment skills.” You nod to give him the go-ahead and with that, the next couple of hours pass by in a flash.  Your anxiety melts away as the group breaks off into pairs to practice some of the skills Dr. McCoy has explained and you’re left alone with the man himself.  Despite the fact that he’s got years of knowledge and experience on you, he never once stops to criticize your work as you practice your splinting and bandaging skills, though you’re acutely aware of the way he’s watching you work throughout. The rest of the class goes by in a blur and you have mixed feelings about it as you’re taking your test at the end.  On the one hand, you’re glad it’s over for another year, but on the other hand Dr. McCoy hasn’t given you any indication that he’s ready to take you up on that chat you’d discussed the other day at the poolside.  You’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realize you’re the last one left writing and as you glance around and find only Dr. McCoy left in the room with you, you quickly fill in the last few bubbles on your answer sheet and all but throw the exam booklet on the table in front of him before disappearing. Well now you’ve blown it. You consider going back as you stride toward the staff lockers but you’re too nervous about the sort of impression you’ve just made to actually do it.  Instead, you hurriedly pack your things together and escape out the building’s side door, not wanting to chance running into the doctor again so soon.

Another two days later, just when you’ve finally put thoughts of him out of your mind, the sound of feet plip-plapping on the wet tile of the pool deck gets your attention.  You glance over your shoulder from where you’re making your rounds and meet Dr. McCoy’s gaze across the lanes separating the two of you. Whipping your head back around to face forward, you curse inwardly and take a deep, steadying breath.  You don’t have any choice but to face him and so you steel yourself, turning on your heel and marching across the deck towards him.  He smiles as you approach and his expression is soft. “Sorry I pulled a disappearing act the other day,” you offer before he can say anything. He shrugs. “I figured you had somewhere to be,” he says lightly.  “But I was a little upset that we didn’t get the chance to plan that date we’d talked about last time.” Your brain short circuits a bit as you realize that he’s still interested in you and it takes you a moment to think of a way to respond. “Sorry,” you murmur.  “I just… got a little intimidated by you.” He laughs softly. “Darlin’, I don’t have an intimidating bone in my body,” he assures you.  “Let me prove it to you.  What time are you off?” You swallow thickly, your mind still buzzing, his hypnotic hazel eyes not making it any easier to concentrate as you look into them. “Seven,” you reply. “Great,” he says.  “That gives me plenty of time to get a few laps in and shower. Are you free for coffee after work?” You nod mutely, feeling a prickle of excitement set all of your nerve endings alight.  Dr. McCoy smiles at your agreement and shifts from foot to foot, kicking off his flip flops and gesturing to the water. “I’ll meet you at the front desk after your shift,” he says warmly.  “Unless I require your services sooner.” You chuckle and roll your eyes, waving your flutter board at the pool to encourage him wordlessly to get a move on; his well-toned bare chest is beginning to get really distracting. “You’d better not,” you admonish playfully as you turn to go back to your rounds.  “Stay out of trouble.” The words no sooner leave your lips than you see a flail of limbs in the periphery of your vision and a startled yell reaches your ears.  You pivot back to face him just in time to see him hit the deck, landing sprawled out on his back.  Jumping forward, you kneel at his side and reach out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move!”  You say on instinct. He groans in pain but then smiles wryly, looking over at you. “I’m fine, sugar, I didn’t hit my head,” he assures you, lifting his right arm to reveal a small pool of blood beneath it. “Just banged myself up a little. Looks like you jinxed me.” Your eyes widen a little in horror and he reaches out to put a hand on your arm to reassure you. “I’m kidding,” he says quickly.  “Just bad luck is all.  No harm done.” “Still, we should get you seen to,” you insist. “Looks like you’re going to get to put those skills to the test after all,” he says with a wink. You try to hide the dread you feel at having to patch up a trauma surgeon with exponentially more experience than you and nod, holding out a hand to help him up.  As you support him while he gets to his feet, you wave at the other guards to let them know you’ll be off deck for a little while.  Helping him along to ensure he doesn’t slip again, you lead him to the first aid room and seat him on the stretcher while you get together some supplies.  Once you have your gloves on and your paraphernalia assembled, you turn to face him with a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze. He’s already got his arm bent to expose the scrape on his elbow and you look up at him apologetically. “This might sting a bit, Doctor,” you say stiffly, rolling the title around in your head. “It’s Leonard,” he says gently.  “Or Len, if you like.” “Len,” you say softly.  “Rolls off the tongue nicely.” You carefully dab at his wound with the antiseptic and he doesn’t so much as flinch.  You can feel his gaze on you and your face is burning.  Keeping your own eyes cast downward, you finish up with the cleaning and apply an antibiotic ointment before neatly securing a dressing into place with a pristine stretch of cling gauze.  Once you finish, you take off your gloves and dispose of them, offering Leonard a smile. “And this is the part where I give you the mandatory follow up with your doctor to ensure it doesn’t get infected advice,” you say.  “But I’ve got the feeling you’ve got an even better handle on all of this than I do.” “It’s nice to sit back and let someone else take the reins sometimes, though,” Leonard says warmly.  “Besides, you did a great job.  Couldn’t have done it better myself.” “Only because it’s your dominant arm that’s injured,” you mutter quietly. “Nonsense,” he assures you.  “There is one more thing you could do, though, to perfect your technique in this case.” “What’s that?”  You ask, heart hammering behind your ribs as you worry that you’ve made some kind of terrible mistake. You glance up as you feel him leaning in closer to you, feeling the heat radiating from his skin at your proximity. “If it’s not too much trouble, it might help to kiss it better,” he whispers, his eyes traveling down from yours, lingering on your lips. You can hear your heartbeat echoing so clearly in your ears that you’re sure he can hear it too.  Swallowing thickly, your breath coming short, you lick your lips and nod.  It’s all the consent he needs and within a second, he’s closing the gap between the two of you.   His lips are soft, gentle and tentative against yours at first, giving you the chance to pull away if you change your mind, but the way his hands land on your hips, stroking there lightly, you find yourself being consumed.  You press closer, adding a little bit of passion to the kiss, and every nerve ending in your body catches fire.  Your breathing is ragged and you feel dizzy as the kiss lasts for several long moments, but as the two of you pull apart you find it’s way too soon.  You miss the contact immediately. “Better?”  You ask breathily, licking your lips as you slowly open your eyes. “Much,” he replies, his hands still on your hips, thumbs still gently caressing your skin through your shirt. Glancing over at the clock on the wall behind him, you gasp as you realize you’ve spent more time in the first aid room than you’d thought.  Your shift is over in half an hour. “You ought to shower up,” you tell him, stepping aside so he can hop off of the stretcher.  “Assuming we’re still on for coffee, that is.” He stands and steps closer to you, reaching up to cup your cheek, gently caressing your face for a brief moment before sidestepping you and heading towards the door. “Darlin’, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing from sight. You reach up, burying your face in your hands, biting you lip and letting out a small noise of excitement.  You feel like a teenager who has just experienced their first kiss.  In a rush, you clean up after yourself and change the sheet on the stretcher before dashing out of the first aid room to finish a few last laps around the pool deck. As you finish up and clock out, you change hurriedly into your street clothes and take a deep breath to steel yourself before heading out to meet Leonard.  When you meet his gaze across the space between the two of you in the complex’s lobby, you swear the smile on his face is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen, and as he holds out an arm for you to take, you send up a silent blessing for having found the courage to finally say hello to him.

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