#He got a back alley surgeon

[taurmalinedust]

Sonic got top surgery this Pride month

Brought to you by this one Pinterest user being in my feed (thanks dude):

[porcalinecunt]

ak!jason craving his back alley surgeon (ftm) so much that it physically hurts not to just fuck him right in the middle of their session ,,

021 𐙚 KINKTOBER — 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 the arkham knight remained touch starved for too long, so he turns to his nagging yet stupidly cute back alley surgeon! ~

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ AK! JASON TODD X MALE! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader. dubcon. rough oral sex. throat breeding. throat bulge. fingerings. touch starved jason. past mentions of torture/injuries.

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ ] i do NOT know how to write endings ;-; but omg anon, i RAN to write this the moment i saw this request! ak!jason todd lives in my head rent free :<

he forgot what normal touch felt like, if it even existed in the desolate gotham city.

and you can’t blame him, the last thing he ever felt were the joker’s ghostly white hands tearing at his skin with any rusty metal he could get his hands on. the burning hot iron engraving a capital J on his cheek.

getting shot on camera in a snuff was somehow the least worst thing that happened to the knight.

naturally, the acidic lake of the lazerous pit only harden his outer shell, rendering him mentally cut off to the concept of affection. hell, he wouldn’t even let the nurses within militia grounds even touch him. grumbling that he can take care it himself with a simple twist of a broken limb or a faulty cauterized wound.

or a visit to your back alley clinic.

after a hellish night of shockwaves and stitches, jason properly met you after you saved his life from a particularly lethal mission. unlike the kind nurses though, you were cold and a little vile. spouting exhausted quips about how ‘braindead’ and ‘reckless’ he was, and how he was a pain in your ass. ah, a vile little bitch. the arkham knight thought.

yet, he couldn’t bring himself to hate you. oh no, despite the sharp tongue, your shockingly soft hands revive a need jason thought he abandoned after his death. he found himself looking forward to the checkups, to your palms resting against his scarred chest and broad shoulders. fingers pressing against his more delicate spots, allowing his mind to wander to the nastiest places.

how delicate was the rest of you?

a question that got him gripping the metal table as you did another checkup on him, making sure he didn’t measly tear off any of the wrapping or bandaids.

jason’s breath hitched once your fingers ghosted over his abs, his chest and his thighs. it didn’t help that with every slight move, he grew harder and harder in his pants. you were fucking teasing him, even if it wasn’t intentional. his boner was growing more obvious and it was like you were purposely playing dumb, agitating the knight.

“shit..fuck it.”

he uttered, sitting up despite your failed attempts to keep him down.

“mister todd, what are you?!- HEY!”

a harsh push threw you far back, stumbling onto the dirty sofa chair while jason quickly followed. you could barley process what was going on when the sound of a belt buckle made you freeze.

“sorry doc, got a problem i can’t fix on my own..”

jason muttered as his pants dropped to his ankles along with his boxers, revealing his ‘problem’. you couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at his ridiculous girth and his swollen tip leaking precum as it ran down to the base.

“mister todd..—“

“please. c’mon doc..”

he was practically begging, a tone that went straight into your soaked cunt. you had to hold back from straight up palming yourself through your pants. a defeated sigh left your lungs as you leaned forward off the couch and onto your knees. a risky kitty lick snapped the rope of control in jason, a heavy metal hand clasping the back of your head, forcing his dick into your jaw.

he was too big, way too big. your poor mouth was practically stuffed with cock as the knight didn’t let you pull back for a moment. “nose, doc..breath through your nose.” jason sighed, slowing pushing further and further until he was nestled into your throat. a static groan leaked through his gritted teeth, a sound that made you flinch with anticipation.

with eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t even look at him as he pulls his length back only to shove it right back into the jugular, slowly picking up his already relentless pace. the sloshing noises of your spit and his cum mixing filled your ears until your patient’s groans practically drowned out.

gobs of the nasty mix spilled off his soaked dick and through your swollen lips, along with tears that blurred your vision and salted the taste of the knight’s girth. it was all humiliating in the best way possible, you were fucking getting off to it. made you wonder how long he was imagining this very scenario.

“get up.” he suddenly commands with a booming tone, pulling you off his cock with a handful of your hair. “w-wha..?”

“you fuckin’ heard me. get up or i’ll fuck that cunt of yours.”

barley a promise, knowing how fickle the knight is. yet you still followed his command, standing up as he pushed you down onto the metal operation table with your front facing the ceiling. jason, dick still hard and bobbing around as he walked to where your head hung off the edge.

“gonna make you extra useful doc, if you’re okay with that..” he asked with a ragged breath. you were too fucked out to give a proper answer other then a pathetic “uh huh…” with your tongue stuck out. you couldn’t even get another sound out before he stuffs your mouth full once again, this time, with a desperation for an orgasm.

gripping the sides of the metal table, jason thrusts his dick in and out of your throat, a small bulge forming yet visible enough for him to admire.

“atta boy, you’re not bad f’ a doctor..shit..!”

he laughed, listening to your whines and gagging as you rub your thighs together for a source of friction. all this time, you were left neglected as jason used your throat as a free fleshlight. with shaking hands, you reached down through the band of your pants and ran your fingers through your needy little pussy.

“mmm..mister todd..”

you muttered, fucking your fingers into your soaked cunt as you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. he was gonna cum.

“mouf..cum in m’mouf..!” you weakly uttered, earning a mocking coo from the knight. “yeah? you want me to cum in your mouth? ‘course doc..” he panted, his pace growing more relentless somehow.

“consider this returning the favor, f’ being so good to me.”

with a couple more thrusts and some jerkin’ off, a white hot liquid spurted in your mouth and down your throat. heavy and salty was all you can taste as he practically bred your throat full.

jason pulled himself out, watching as gobs of his cum and your spit spill out from your lips and all over your fucked out face. he wished he could take a picture of it just to have something to jerk off to when he can’t sleep.

“so..see you next week?”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[chosopie]

SHE’S EVIL - CHOSO KAMO

cw: mentions of gore, smut, bdsm, sub choso

Choso was absolutely obsessed with you. Every single night, he would watch true crime to stay updated with your latest murders. No one knows what you looked like, but the thought and idea of you turned him so much. A dangerous woman with enough power and skill to shake the whole country and bring it to shambles—all that got his dick leaking.

One night, as he watched the latest news about you, his eyes widened in shock and excitement after reading the headline. You had skinned someone alive, ripping their back and ribs off to make wings out of them, turning them into a fucked-up angel, then you hung them on the brick walls of an alley that was just down the corner of the street. You were so close to him. It made his heart skip a beat.

He admired you a lot, not because you were just some cold-hearted killer, but because you had motive. In a cruel world full of injustices and corruption, a lot of bad men get to walk away free from their crimes while their victims had to live the rest of their lives carrying the burdens and trauma of their past. In some way, you were a vigilante, not like Batman. You were more gruesome and violent, leaving your victims in a state that no one skilled enough could replicate. You were an artist in some wag. There was this one instance where you decapitated a man, and gutted him from the inside out, tying his organs around his body like necklaces and bracelets. You made murder look so beautiful.

Choso found it so hot.

That gave him a clue. He decided to venture to the nearby local hospital. He asked around for their most prestigious surgeon. “I need to meet the best,” he demanded. The lady by the desk called you—a classy woman who was finely dressed in a perfectly tailored blazer with a white dress shirt peeking underneath. The tight pencil skirt you wore showed off your curves. Your shoes were from a famous Parisian brand that was surely expensive and chic. You were the epitome of class and elegance.

“You can meet me by my office if you have any concerns. I’d be more than happy to help,” you flashed a smile at him, your teeth were perfect and well-kept. There was something eerie about your smile. It was too perfect that it didn’t seem genuine at all.

Choso wasted no time and dragged himself to your office. After a few minutes of waiting, it was finally his turn to “consult” you. Something in his gut made him so sure that you were the notorious killer.

“Good afternoon, mister…?” You quickly stole a glance at him, then looked back down on your notebook, your hand quickly writing notes about the previous patient.

“Choso,” he replied.

“What seems to be the problem, Choso?”

“Are you the one responsible for all those… art pieces?” Choso gulped, his face turning pale from the anxiousness the crept within his chest.

“Art pieces? I’m a surgeon, dear,” you responded without taking your eyes off your notebook, busily jotting down additional information about your patient who suffered from a severe form of hernia. You remained calm despite knowing exactly what he was referring to. The man seemed to have no ill intention towards you. Perhaps you’ve gained quite an audience and some fans.

“The angel,” Choso spoke again, hoping it would clarify things. It felt like a futile attempt. Of course, if you truly were the killer, then you wouldn’t just reveal yourself to someone like him.

“What about it? Did you like what you saw?” You finally stopped writing and stood up. Choso couldn’t help but look at your dress shirt which was unbuttoned on the top, giving him a glimpse of your push-up bra.

Choso instantly turned red, sweat forming on his temples. “Yes. Well, I think you’re very skilled. You’re the best out there,” he stuttered.

“Of course I am,” you grinned.

Now that you’ve revealed his identity to him, Choso found himself in the best possible situation he could have gotten into, right between your big thighs, his tongue swiping and sucking on your clit until you cum and squirt on his pretty face.

Choso begged you to let him fuck you, but you told him to be patient. He was on his knees, arms tightly wrapped around your leg while he desperately humps you, smearing his pre-cum all over your leg.

He amused you, and because of this, you decided to keep him around as your little toy. You can't keep relying on killing assholes to keep you excited. You needed a little fun when it comes to sex and bitches too.

Choso would frequent your office or you'd bring him to your car so he could relieve you. If he was good enough, you'd return the pleasure by riding his dick until his eyes are rolled back and his tongue was sticking out. Sometimes, he'd even ask you to hold him at gunpoint or to press a knife against him. He was your cute and freaky sex doll. Your pride and ego forbid you from admitting this, but you’ve grown a soft spot for him.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 15: You Good, Chef?

GIF credit: @carmen-berzattos

Bearblr Promptober Day 15: Free Space aka Carmy Has Girlfriend Brainworms

Summary: Carmy can't stop thinking about his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) being cute in the morning when he left for work, and it's causing so many problems.

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned panic attack (no active panic attack in this one), mention of The Devil (aka Chef David), sleepy bean fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, snuggling Carmy's shirt for comfort, she/her pronouns, fluff, feat. Nat, Syd, Richie.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

This is a two-parter. The second part is here.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

Also, if random letters or words are white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

15 Oct 2024

I just had the hardest fucking day at the restaurant and it’s not even because we were doing badly; it’s because I couldn’t stop fucking thinking of Darling.

She was still sleeping when I left. Curled up into a cute little ball under the comforter, just her hair poking out. I grabbed the blanket in the living room and draped it over her as well to stave off the chill that’d creep in since I wouldn’t be around to be her personal heater, and it, unfortunately, woke her up just enough to start feeling around the bed for me.

“Hi, baby girl,” I whispered. She blinked and squinted at me through the darkness. “I’m heading to work. You can go back to sleep.”

She made a discontented noise and mumbled something.

I leaned in. “Hm?”

“Shirt?”

Something in my chest fluttered. “You want my shirt?”

She nodded, groaned sleepily as she reached for my pillow and dragged it under the blanket. I grabbed my t-shirt off the edge of the hamper and gave it to her. She clumsily draped it over the pillow, wrapped her arms around it, and buried her face in it, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh once she’d settled.

The sight of her nuzzled into my shirt, only dozing off when she could be enveloped by my scent? I didn’t think I was the kind of person who could be fucking feral over something, but I am fucking. Feral. Over it. I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s driving me insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about it. It’s somehow like an earworm I can’t shake or like an image frozen in time that I can’t stop seeing when I blink, but it’s worse because I can’t fucking listen to a song or look at a stupid photo in a cookbook to get it out of my head! It won’t leave me alone! I was in the middle of vegetable prep—this was super early, Syd had just come in and was putting her apron on—and I swear to God, I froze in place because the thought of Darling nuzzling into my t-shirt took over every fucking particle of my brain. I got that deep, sinking heat of arousal in the pit of my stomach while at work, this is insane, what is going on with me?

“You good, Chef?” Syd asks.

I can’t even remember what I said to her, but it must’ve been good or bad enough that she got straight to her prep. I didn’t even make it through dicing another onion before I had to step out in the back alley to get some cold air on my face. I was shaking. I was fucking shaking. Part of me wanted to call Darling. It was like this itch deep in my brain, somewhere I couldn’t reach, and I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to hear her call me sweetheart again. I wanted her hands in my hair, on my skin, wanted to taste her mouth, hear her whisper “I love you” in my ear as she unraveled. I wanted her to pull my hair, why did I want her to pull my hair? But she slept in on her days off, and I couldn’t even try to rouse her from the sleep she so desperately needed to keep functioning. It felt selfish. A spark of pain on the back of my neck brought my attention back to the present, and I realized, with mild horror, that I’d dragged my nails across my skin much like she did to my back or chest when she had a particularly good orgasm.

Shit. Fuck. That’s going to be bright red in a few seconds.

I heaved a breath and headed back inside.

“You sure you’re good, Chef?” Syd asked the moment I came back in.

“What’s wrong? Why is he not good?” Nat?

“The fuck are you doing here?” I asked.

She appeared from the office. “Good morning to you too.” Held up a manilla file. “Quarterly tax shit. I need some signatures. Why are you not good?”

“I’m fine. Give.” I held a hand out for the file.

Sug took entirely too long to hand it to me. “She told me ab—”

“I know, she asked me first. Not talking about it.” I flipped through the papers for all the yellow flags marking where I needed to sign or initial.

“You really should talk—”

“I’m scheduled for a psychological evaluation at University Hospital, and they’ll probably make a referral to trauma therapy.”

“Should I be hearing this?” Syd asked.

Sug. “I don’t know?”

Me. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Sug drew in a breath to say something.

“I’ve already been approved for the financial assistance to reduce the cost of healthcare.” I passed the file back to her. Got back to the onions.

She blinked at me. Did she forget I was her brother?

“That-that was quick.”

I nodded. “She’s almost as quick as you.”

Syd. “She convinced you to go to therapy?”

“I didn’t need much convincing.”

She chuckled. “In what universe…?”

“The one where I had such a bad panic attack that both of us were convinced that I was dying. No, I’m not gonna field questions about it, get back to work.”

Syd’s smile slid off her face. “I wasn’t going to ask!”

“I mean Sug.”

Sugar scoffed. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You were about to.”

Sug crossed her arms. “You’re in asshole mode today, I see.”

“When am I not?”

“When you’re with your girlfriend,” Syd spat. She didn’t need to say it with an attitude. Or maybe she did, honestly; Syd’s right more often than she’s wrong. And she still had the right to be bitter about shit I refused to apologize for. This is easy to say now, at the eleventh hour while I write this down, but it was impossible to say when standing in that kitchen on that day, 2 hours into having Darling brainworms eating holes in my gray matter. Maybe it was because I felt so off, but I fired back with something I definitely shouldn’t’ve said.

Or maybe I should’ve. It got me to say the thing I should’ve said to her months ago.

Oh, look, God being a sadist again. Who would’ve thought?

“The girlfriend you got annoyed with and made feel unwelcomed, remember?”

Sydney’s face contorted into a grimace. “Excuse me, you were shirking your responsibilities here and leaving me to do it all myself after telling me you had my back.”

Sugar had a much more reasonable, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Sydney, I couldn’t fucking breathe,” I groaned.

Her face went sober again. It always scares me when that happens.

Words I needed to explain away that blank face refused to leave my throat.

I thought, at that time, that what I needed to do was get deeper into the work, just like I did in New York. Just like I did when Mikey pushed me out of The Beef. That the agony closing in from all directions could be staved off by putting my head down and doing the thing I wanted to do at all—opening my own restaurant—and submerging myself in the production of critical acclaim after critical acclaim because as the awards and accolades stacked up, I could use them as ammunition against The Devil’s voice in my head. Against my own voice. Against the voices of a thousand nameless, faceless people who, in one way or another—often in dozens of ways—crushed any sense of my self-worth under their boot-heels because their best defense against their own cruel internal critics happened to be a really good offense. I fashioned myself into a mosaic of shattered glass to go back to Mikey, to throw reams of approval at him (and at ma and at Sugar—because they were also caught in the backdraft, such is the curse of being a fucking Berzatto), but there was one last boot heel for me to be crushed under, and it happened to be at the end of a gun barrel on State Street Bridge.

Because God’s a sadist, remember?

“I need you to explain that, Carmy,” Syd said.

But you can submerge yourself too deep. And you can start to drown. And when you start to drown, you cling to whatever you can see. Fuck a plan, I didn’t even know what to do to stop being waterboarded by the hell of my own making, and I didn’t know there was a way out of the water, so yes, Syd, yes, I fucking bailed on you and I fucking left you to do it all yourself and I fucked up at every opportunity and I forgot to fucking call the fridge guy but Syd, you have to understand.

Then Sugar, in her small voice. “Yes, please explain, Bear.”

I couldn’t. Fucking. Breathe.

“I don’t have the words to,” I mumbled.

Nat put her hands on my shoulders, leaned down into my view. Half-whispered, “Are you okay?”

I told her to ask me tomorrow.

Mercifully, neither of them pestered me about it and let me get back to prep without disturbing me.

…..

Early in the afternoon, Richie came in and noticed the scratches. What with him being a lanky fuck and all.

“Good morning, everyone—Yo, did your girl get you last night?” He chuckled. Tugged at the back of my apron.

“Nope, my anxiety did this morning, thank you for that.”

He didn’t say another word either.

As we got closer to service, it got worse. Her smile, the scent of her shampoo, her fingernails, painted in oxblood, dragging down my forearm, the soft, wet heat between her thighs, her giggle, her hand ghosting up my abdomen to then press ice to my chest—it kept invading every sense. I could hear, feel, smell, touch, and taste her, I could fucking taste her, and I kept fucking up my counts, I lost track of time twice and Syd had to call out time to service. I grabbed a quart of ice and stepped out again, trying to recompress. Grabbed a fistful of ice cubes and squeezed them.

“Chef, you’re not okay.” Syd again. She followed me.

I drew in a sharp breath to retort that I was fine, but the words got caught in my throat. I could hear Darling talking to me. Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe, baby... That’s it. There you go… Let’s try to recover. I huffed. Shrugged.

“No. No, Syd, I’m not.”

“Do you need to step out?”

No, I don’t, fuck you. “I-I should probably step out, shouldn’t I?”

“That is the agreement we made, yeah. I’m not doing a dinner service with you wired to the gills.”

I nodded. My hand was going numb from the ice.

I told you, God’s a fucking sadist.

(To Be Continued)

[hamsterclaw]

Humbug

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 1 - read the rest here.

Paediatrician Dr Jung Hoseok is beloved by all his patients and everyone he works with. Unfortunately, his cheerful demeanour is only a front, underneath it all, he's a humbug.

Pairing: Hoseok x f! reader

Genre: Paediatrician Hoseok, social worker reader, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, medical emergencies

Hoseok looks up from the computer screen at the sound of his name. His eyes take a moment to adjust, the screen’s the brightest light in the otherwise darkened paediatric ward.

The nurse, Jihyo, holds out a mug of coffee, just how he likes it. 

Hoseok accepts gratefully, stares at the words on the side of the mug.

Big patience for little patients.

He blinks, indifferent, and goes back to prescribing.

His phone rings, muted because it’s 3am but he can hear it loud and clear.

He lifts it to his ear. ‘Dr Jung,’ he says by way of greeting.

‘You’re needed in the ER,’ comes the crisp tone of the ER charge nurse.

Hoseok sighs, doesn’t bother to ask why. ‘I’ll be there in 5.’

He hangs up, signs the chart and gulps the rest of his coffee, scorching his tongue and the roof of his mouth but preferring the burn to the desolate pang of his empty stomach.

The dry sandwich he’d bolted at 6pm the day before is nothing but a distant memory, churning its partially digested way through his intestines.

He takes a shortcut to the ER, cutting through the works alley between buildings.

Ironic that he has to pass the unofficial smoker’s alley to get fresh air.

Kim Namjoon, his friend and the resident cardiothoracics surgeon, nods and waves a vape pen at him in greeting. 

Hoseok lifts a hand back, pushes the back entrance door open that someone’s propped open with a brick, hospital security be damned, re-enters the hospital next to the mortuary.

He glances askance at the double doors. It always makes him feel a little twitchy passing the morgue in the early hours of the morning.

He reminds himself he’s a grown adult as he picks up the pace, allows himself a little sigh of relief as he turns the corner and sees the bright lights of radiology.

He’s greeted by a cacophony of noises as he enters the ER, monitors beeping, people barking out instructions, distant sirens as ambulances pull up to the drop off.

He narrows his eyes against the fluorescent white strip lighting, looking around for the charge nurse’s familiar navy tunic. 

He spots her by the resus bay, grimaces a bit at the carnage from a trauma that hasn’t been cleaned up.

‘Called for a paediatric consult?’ 

The charge nurse nods, brisk, waves an arm in the vague direction of the paediatric area. 

‘15 year old, intoxicated.’

With that she’s off, and Hoseok trudges away. 

The atmosphere in the paediatric area is less jarring, not so much because of the cheerful murals on the walls, but because it’s quieter, less hectic.

Hoseok assesses a teenager in a glittery jumpsuit who smells so strongly of alcohol and hairspray he reminds him of his own high school leaving prom.

He does an assessment, makes the mistake of asking the teen if he wants a drink on his way out of the exam room.

The teen chortles gleefully. 

‘Yeah, gin and tonic, hold the tonic!’

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he exits.

He’s looking for a free computer to write up his notes when there’s movement in the periphery of his vision. 

‘Need a computer?’ you ask. 

Hoseok blinks to wake himself up. You’re way too pretty considering the early hour. Judging by your attire, more casual than smart, your carelessly styled hair, he makes an educated guess. 

‘Are you with social services?’ 

‘Y/N, duty social worker,’ you confirm, nodding towards the exam room he’s just exited. ‘Jaebeom’s one of ours.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I’m Hoseok, paediatrics. I’m admitting him until he sobers up.’ 

You nod. ‘His foster carer can pick him up in the morning, she’s got another child that she needs to drop off at school.’ 

You look around, yawning delicately behind your hand. ‘Is there a place to get coffee around here at this time?’ 

There’s an on-call room waiting for him, a bed, but Hoseok doesn’t hesitate. 

‘If you have five minutes for me to write up my notes, I can take you to the lounge?’ 

You give him a look he doesn’t bother to interpret, it’s now 4am and if you say no he can always go to bed. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Thanks.’ 

Hoseok types up his notes with you sitting in one of the empty chairs in the otherwise deserted paediatric department. 

When he logs off he’s amused to find you engrossed in sorting shapes to slot into a sphere. 

‘I can give you a few more minutes if you want,’ he says, dry. 

You laugh. ‘I’ll be quicker once I’ve had caffeine.’ 

You follow him down the corridor towards the main hospital to the lounge. 

Hoseok swipes his ID badge, pushes the door open. 

You take in the ancient mismatched couches, the big screen TV, the tiny kitchenette with the top-of-the-line coffee machine, the chipped mugs drying next to the sink.

‘So this is how doctors roll, huh?’ you say. 

Hoseok laughs. ‘Yeah baby, stick with me and I’ll show you a good time.’ 

He waggles his eyebrows, and you burst out laughing. 

Hoseok’s struck by your smile and the way your eyes light up. He clears his throat, tells himself to stop staring at you like a creep. 

‘Latte?’ he offers, picking up the nicest mug he can see. 

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say. 

You’re fishing in your bag, emerging with a half-opened package of cookies. 

He exchanges your coffee for a cookie, gestures to one of the couches. 

He’s not expecting you to sit next to him, there’s plenty of space, but after a moment, you choose the seat beside him. 

You sip your coffees in silence. 

‘Been busy?’ you ask. 

‘Yeah, a little,’ Hoseok replies. 

Up close like this, he can see the tiny piercings in your ear, the gleam of gold through the fall of your hair. 

Again, he pulls himself together with effort. 

‘Have you been busy?’ he asks. 

You stretch a little. ‘Yeah. We’re short-staffed, like always. Also something about the cold weather makes people be shits to each other.’

Hoseok’s not surprised. Winter’s always hard, fuck Christmas spirit and all that jazz.

‘I hear you,’ he says. 

You sip your coffee, offer him another cookie which he accepts. 

Your phone rings in your bag, you glance at him as you fish your phone out. 

‘Duty calls,’ you say ruefully. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’ 

Hoseok’s about to bid you goodbye when you lean towards him, close, thumb brushing a corner of his mouth so quickly he barely registers it before you’re pulling your hand away. 

‘Crumbs,’ you say. There’s the tiniest twinkle in your eye.

Hoseok’s voice comes out raspy as he says, ‘Thanks.’ 

‘See you around, doc.’ 

You’re not waiting for an answer, shouldering your bag, tossing him one last look on your way out. 

Hoseok leans back against the couch, willing his heartrate to decelerate. 

Outside, the darkest part of the night’s just about over. 

***

Hoseok’s working hard to keep his bright smile on today. 

He’s had a parent ask him if he has kids and then tell him he couldn’t possibly understand how precious their child is, as he doesn’t have children of his own. 

He got an email from a conference he’s applied to saying due to the huge number of applicants, his abstract wasn’t selected for presentation. 

His intern, Hyunjin, seems to be on a mission to aggravate him as much as possible. 

‘We need a derm consult,’ Hyunjin tells him at the end of presenting the patient he’s just seen. 

Hoseok closes his eyes briefly, desperately summoning what remains of his rapidly dwindling stores of patience. 

‘Why do we need a derm consult, Dr Park?’ he tries not to bark. 

‘This patient has verrucas.’ 

Hoseok blinks, takes a breath. 

‘This patient needs nebulised albuterol and oxygen and an admission to paediatrics. The verrucas can wait until he gets better and the mom can stop by a pharmacy for some over-the-counter verruca treatment.’ 

Hyunjin stares at him. 

‘He’s satting in the low nineties,’ Hoseok points out, words coming out brisk, staccato. ‘I can hear him wheezing from here.’ 

The ER nurse behind Hyunjin’s already tutting and prepping the neb. 

‘Was there anything else, Hyunjin?’ Hoseok asks, getting up, staring at the rapidly expanding list of patients waiting for a paediatric consult.

His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a sigh. 

‘Dr Jung,’ he says. 

‘Is that Hoseok?’ 

The voice is vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it. 

‘Depends who’s asking,’ he snaps. 

‘It’s Y/N, the social worker. You got me coffee last week at 4am?’ 

Hoseok has a flash of a memory, of your hand on his face. 

‘Shit, sorry,’ he says, running a hand through his hair, already sticking straight up in all directions, courtesy of the shitty haircut he got in the barbershop on his way in. 

‘Rough day, huh?’ you say, the sympathy in your voice making warmth bloom in his chest. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner after work today,’ you ask, no preamble, so direct Hoseok takes a moment to process. 

‘I’d love to,’ he says. ‘I don’t get off until 8, though.’ 

‘I finish at 8 too,’ you say. ‘That works for me.’ 

You exchange numbers, and you promise to text him details. 

‘Hope your day gets better, Dr Jung,’ you say, the teasing note in your voice making him smile, genuinely, for the first time, today. 

‘It already is,’ he says. 

He’s still smiling when he hangs up. 

‘Hoseok,’ comes a voice from behind him. 

Hoseok raises a brow inquiringly at Hyunjin, who, inexplicably, is still standing there. 

‘About the verrucas,’ begins Hyunjin. 

‘Nope,’ Hoseok says, pleasantly, still smiling. 

He brushes past Hyunjin and picks up the next consult. 

***

It’s ten to eight and thank fuck for that, because Hoseok’s had enough of today. 

He’s getting changed out of the scrubs he was forced to change into after he was projectile vomited on by a chubby 10 month old, grateful he has spare clothes in his locker, when the door to the changing rooms opens. 

Hoseok pauses, shirtless, hands on the tie of his scrubs bottoms. 

Hyunjin blinks at him. 

‘Nice abs, boss,’ he says. 

Hoseok eyes both the fluffy white tee he was about to change into and the scrubs top he’s just discarded, questioning why he ever thought going into medicine was a good idea. 

He grits his teeth. 

‘Yes, Hyunjin?’ 

‘There’s a blue light call - breathless five year old, ETA 3 minutes.’ 

‘Jisoo is on tonight, let her know,’ Hoseok replies. ‘Also, close the door, damnit.’ 

Hyunjin looks surprised at the three medical students who have clustered behind him, all of whom are staring at Hoseok wide-eyed. 

‘Jisoo’s going to be twenty minutes late, something about a train breakdown?’

Hyunjin’s got the wisdom to stay out of Hoseok’s reach. 

Hoseok’s hand lands on his soft t-shirt, longingly. 

With a sigh, he bypasses it and reaches for his scrubs top, pulling it over his head. 

‘I’ll be right there,’ he says. 

***

By the time Hoseok’s assessed the breathless patient and handed over to an apologetic Jisoo, the time on the clock on the wall says 9pm. 

Hoseok pulls his phone out, dials your number. 

You answer on the first ring. 

Without waiting for him to say anything, you say, ‘The food’s still hot, I took the liberty of ordering for you. Are you on your way?’ 

Hoseok breathes out, a sigh of relief so profound he feels lightheaded. 

‘Marry me,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’ 

He gets dressed in record time, emerges out of the carnage of the ER like a phoenix rising from the ashes. 

You’re the first person he sees when he gets to the restaurant, and you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. 

He greets you with a hug and a cheek kiss that you weren’t expecting, judging by the shy smile on your pretty face. 

‘I —’ you start, then you stop, adorably flustered. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ Hoseok says. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day.’ 

‘I was just going to say I ordered tempura that’s on its way,’ you say. 

‘I’m sorry I’m so late,’ Hoseok says. He’s got his hand on yours on the table without any memory of how it got there, but he likes the feel of it. 

‘Make it up to me,’ you say, easy. 

‘I’m going to do my best,’ he promises. 

***

At least four people have seen Hoseok’s bare chest today, but you’re the only person he cares about impressing, at least right at this moment. 

Because holy fuck, you’re beautiful, pressed tight to him on your poky couch, mouth on his, lips and teeth clashing as he kisses you over and over. 

You’re making noises that are driving him slightly crazy, making him feel hot and desperate, and he has to stop himself from looking at your tits in that black bra or he’s going to embarrass himself. 

Shit. 

Your hand’s slid down, brushing over his dick, and he’s so hard already he has to will himself not to nut right now. 

He tugs experimentally at the strap of your bra, and when you don’t protest he tugs it down, cups the weight of your left breast. 

God, you feel so good. Soft, warm, exposed nipple begging to be kissed. 

He runs his thumb over your areola, a slow pass. 

The low moan you let out gives him the confidence to scrape the tip of his nail over the peak of your breast. 

‘God, take it off, Hoseok,’ you tell him, and Hoseok’s sure as hell not going to make you ask twice. 

He slides a hand around your bare back, unhooks your bra, can’t stop himself from looking. 

His dick, already trying to stand at attention in its denim prison, twitches at the sight of your bared breasts. 

Hoseok’s trying to remember what colour briefs he has on, if it’ll be obvious when he takes his jeans off that he’s leaking precum just from looking at your tits. 

Then you cup the length of him over his jeans, and he finds he doesn’t give a fuck. 

Your skirt’s ridden up, your thighs part under his hand encouragingly. 

You’re so soft Hoseok can’t suppress a groan. 

He hooks a couple fingers under the gusset of your panties, tugs, and your hand lands on his. 

Hoseok looks up, hand stilling. 

Hoseok’s been told that he has a gorgeous smile, but just at this moment, you’re the one who’s blinding him. 

‘You can touch,’ you say, voice husky, teeth in your bottom lip. 

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks, his own voice raspy, dropped low. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Can I taste?’ 

You help him tug your panties down, over the curve of your ass that he can’t resist squeezing. 

He tugs the flimsy cotton down your thighs, helps you slide a leg out. 

He realises, belatedly, that you never answered his question, but you don’t seem to mind as he bends down, flicks his tongue against your pretty cunt. 

Damn, you sound even prettier when he’s eating you out. 

Hoseok licks into your folds, nudges your clit. 

He doesn’t have any hangups about giving head, especially not in a girl like you who seems to enjoy everything he’s doing. 

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ you moan, breathless, eyes squeezed shut. 

He pushes a finger into you, curls it, and you cry out so loudly his cock hardens even more. 

He tugs at the button fly of his jeans, loosening them for a little relief. 

‘Please tell me you have a condom,’ you plead, voice thick, so sexy Hoseok can’t believe you’re under him like this. 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come and I’ll fuck you?’ 

‘Fuck me now,’ you tell him. 

Hoseok seals his lips around your clit, flicks his tongue, slips another finger into you, scissoring, pressing, slow, making every movement count. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

He doesn’t reply, because he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you’re close. 

He just needs another minute. 

He doesn’t know if you’ve realised that your fingers are in his hair, pulling, but he’s taking it as a positive. 

He keeps doing what he’s doing with his tongue, because you seem to like it. 

Your cunt tightens around his fingers, you call his name again, buck your hips into his face, and Hoseok doesn’t even need you to tell him you’re coming because he can feel you pulsing, can hear it in your voice, can feel the way everything tightens as you reach your peak. 

It’s the hottest thing he’s seen in a while. 

Fuck. 

Hoseok draws himself out of jeans, takes himself in hand, pumps once. 

You haven’t forgotten him. 

‘Get inside, Hoseok,’ you say, and as he fishes the condom out of his jeans you flip it out of his grasp and rip it with your teeth. 

Hoseok closes his eyes as you squeeze the tip and roll it onto his dick, concentrating on not coming in your grasp. 

You push him back onto the couch, get on top of him, and Hoseok could weep at the view. 

Your hair’s a mess, your lips bitten and flushed, and goddamn, your tits need to be in a museum. 

He doesn’t realise he’s said that last bit out loud until you burst out laughing. 

‘Shut up, Hoseok,’ you tell him, but you’re still riding him so there’s that. 

Hoseok grabs your hips, helps you move even though you’re doing a pretty damn good job already. 

‘You like this, Hoseok?’ you ask. 

Hoseok flexes his cock inside you. ‘Yeah,’ he says. 

‘I like it too.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

You lean forward, tits bouncing in front of his face, and Hoseok thinks that if he died right now, smothered in between your breasts, he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

‘Go on, baby, take what you want,’ you say. 

Hoseok bucks his hips hard, up into the wet warmth of your cunt, tugs your head down to kiss you deep, open-mouthed, and comes with a groan, deep in his chest. 

Bliss. 

***

Hoseok wakes in a bed he doesn’t remember getting into, a bedroom that he finds soothing, with its neutral colours and soft sunlight filtering in the crack between the curtains.

There’s an arm flung across his chest, the soft curve of a breast against his chest. 

You’re turned away, boneless, in a deep sleep. 

His incorrigible cock stirs as he takes in the line of your back, down to the tempting curve of your ass. 

He spots the clock on the wall, groans when he realises he should really be up now if he wants to get to work on time. 

You’re still dead asleep even after he’s fully dressed, splayed out in the sheets, gloriously naked.

Hoseok pulls the duvet over your bare shoulder, resists the urge to kiss your upturned cheek, and makes sure the door’s locked behind him as he leaves.

***

Hoseok tightens his scarf around his neck as he waits for you at the entrance to the Christmas market you’ve managed to convince him to accompany you to.

The fact is, he hates the cold, he thinks all Christmas markets are gimmicky and overpriced, and after a run of incredibly busy shifts, he’d much rather be in bed with you right now than here.

Hoseok sidesteps neatly as he’s approached by a jovial couple dressed as Father Christmas and Mrs Klaus.

He’s about to pull his phone out to check on you when you hurry up to him, tuck your arm in his.

‘Hobi! You weren’t waiting long, were you?’

Hoseok looks at your bright smile and can’t bring himself to say anything other than ‘no, not long.’

Your lips are cold, but the kiss you plant on his cheek, next to his mouth, goes a long way towards improving his mood.

He doesn’t even give the three elves handing out tiny candy canes a dirty look.

‘Crepes?’ you suggest, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the longest queue is in front of the crepe stand.

‘Sure,’ Hoseok agrees.

You get in line and immediately turn to him, sliding your arms around his waist, under his coat.

‘How’ve you been?’ you ask.

Hoseok and you have met up a couple times over the last three weeks, enough that he’s left a spare shirt and some toiletries at your place.

You’re sweet, and fun, and he hopes you like him as much as he’s starting to like you. 

‘I’m better now,’ he says, just so he can admire the glow of your smile. 

‘You’re cheesy,’ you say, but the brightness in your eyes tells him you don’t mind. 

‘Nah,’ Hoseok replies. ‘You dragged us to this Christmas market, I know you’ve got your eye on one of those tacky reindeer tree ornaments, you don’t get to call me cheesy.’ 

‘I like the blue one,’ you say, conceding so easily Hoseok has to smile. 

‘Wait here, I’ll go and get it,’ he says. 

‘What crepe do you want?’ you ask, as he pulls away. 

‘Surprise me,’ he tells you. 

Hoseok walks over to the ornament stall you’ve been eyeing for the past five minutes, picks out the blue ornament, hesitates over the collection of tiny gold Christmas bauble earrings. 

He makes a decision, pays, shoves his purchases into his coat pocket and walks back to you. 

You hold a crepe out to him, and he accepts with a ‘thanks’, taking the warm paper-wrapped bundle out of your hand and taking a bite. 

The warm melted chocolate floods his taste buds, and he tries not to moan at the gooey sweetness of it. 

‘Good, right?’ you ask. ‘Worth the wait.’ 

You’re not waiting for an answer, skipping ahead, heading for the chestnuts and hot chocolate like you’re a walking Christmas cliche. 

Hoseok follows behind you. He finds he doesn’t really mind. 

***

You stick your key in the lock, unlock the door to your apartment, don’t bother with the lights before you turn around and slide your hands up Hoseok’s chest, fingers tucked under the lapels of his coat. 

Hoseok doesn’t have a lot to say, not when you’re looking up at him, lips pouted for a kiss. 

He slips a hand around the back of your neck, cupping your head, and tilts his head down to yours. 

‘Mmmm,’ you murmur. ‘You taste like chocolate.’ 

Hoseok leans down again, kisses you deep, tongue sliding into your mouth. 

‘It’s cold,’ he says. ‘Warm me up.’ 

He’s only half-serious, having you pressed against him like this is doing a hell of a job of warming him up. 

The wicked gleam in your eye gets him the rest of the way. 

‘Come on. Want to take a bath?’ you ask. 

Hoseok makes out with you in front of the mirror in your bathroom whilst the tub fills, is a short second away from guiding his cock between your legs when you pull away, bend over in front of him to test the temperature.

‘Get in,’ you say, and Hoseok’s always been good at following instructions. 

He slides into the warm heat of the bath, groans at the feel of it, reaches out to steady you as you climb in on top of him, right into his lap, impatient like he feels. 

You look so good bare and wet like this, the steam making tendrils of your hair curl against your neck, the tops of your breasts visible above the water line. Hoseok hadn’t thought he could get any harder but he does. 

‘Sit on me,’ he says, and there’s a slosh of water, wet skin against wet skin, and then the slippery warmth of your cunt, taking him in. 

The tips of your breasts jiggle in front of him as you move, and between the tightness of your walls around him and the prettiness of your moans, Hoseok’s in heaven. 

He slips a hand around your hips, helping you ride him, and curls his hand around your breast, lifting it out of the water so he can suck. 

You cry his name as he flicks his tongue over your nipple, and Hoseok squeezes the flesh of your hip, tight, under the water. 

Your rhythm’s erratic but it’s making the pleasure build, short, tight circles of your hips against his. 

‘Hoseok,’ you moan. 

‘Yeah?’ he mumbles, lips around the peak of your breast. 

He flexes his cock inside you, hums in satisfaction at the way your face goes slack, eyes half closed. 

Shit, you look so pretty in the throes of pleasure. 

Hoseok slides a hand up, fingers curling around your neck, thumb pressed into the hollow between your collarbones. 

Your voice is hoarse now, raspy like his, as he urges, ‘Go on, take it.’ 

He presses down, you gasp, and lose your rhythm entirely as you come around his cock, walls spasming around him. 

Hoseok takes over, fucking you through it, hardening until he comes with a low grunt. 

Wet, slick, warm. 

You’re tired, he can tell, the way you’re slumping against his chest. 

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll wash us off.’ 

He coaxes you into your shower with him, soaps over the marks he’s made on your skin, wraps you into a towel. 

By the time you’re both in bed, you’re more asleep than awake. 

‘Work tomorrow?’ you ask. 

‘I’m working,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘Want me to set an alarm for you?’ 

He doesn’t get an answer, you’re asleep on his chest already. 

He should get up, switch some lights off, but a moment later, he’s asleep too. 

***

Hoseok never thought he’d see the day he would want Hyunjin to be around, but he’s getting slammed, and the way things are looking, he needs all hands on deck. 

He’s jogging down the corridor to his second emergency call for the day despite it being only 10am. It’s busy even for the holidays. 

‘House fire,’ barks Mira, the ER charge nurse as Hoseok snaps on gloves. ‘Three children, five minutes out.’ 

‘How bad?’ asks Hoseok, prepping an IV access kit. 

‘PICU are aware, they’re sending backup when they can but they’ve got their own internal collapse, they’re dealing with an arrest on the neurosurgical ward,’ Mira replies. 

The doors slide open, and Hoseok can already tell from the looks on the paramedics’ faces that it’s not looking good. 

Fucking hell, where’s Hyunjin, what a day to be in resus training instead of on the floor. 

The second patient’s wheeled in as the first is still being parked, and Hoseok’s surprised to see you accompanying them, covered in soot, but he doesn’t have time to process now. 

All he can do is deal with what’s in front of him, so that’s what he does. 

***

It’s well into the afternoon by the time all three patients are stabilised and wheeled up to the PICU. 

Hoseok’s washing his hands mechanically in one of the resus sinks, buying his brain some time to come down from the adrenaline of the last few hours, when he hears his name called. 

‘Hey,’ you say, holding out a cup to him. 

Hoseok takes a big gulp of the steaming hot coffee. There’s sugar in it, he doesn’t usually have sugar in his coffee, but today it goes down smooth, giving him a much-needed glucose boost. 

He drinks most of it before he can muster a ‘Thanks.’ 

You don’t seem to be in a hurry. 

You’ve cleaned most of the soot off your face, but your top is ruined. 

Belatedly, Hoseok notices a plaster on your arm, remembers that you came in with the ambulance crew and the three kids. 

‘Are you ok?’ he asks. 

‘I’m fine,’ you say. ‘I was just outside the house when the gas oven imploded. I saw the kids in the window and got them out.’ 

Hoseok blinks. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

‘You ran into a burning house?’ 

You frown a bit. ‘It wasn’t burning then, there was just smoke everywhere.’ 

You cough, and he notices that your voice is a little hoarse. 

‘Besides, I was right there and I saw the kids, I couldn’t leave them.’ 

‘Shit,’ Hoseok says. He pulls you into a hug. ‘I didn’t know.’ 

‘Do you think they’re going to be ok?’ you ask, resting your head on his chest. 

‘I hope so,’ Hoseok says.

He pulls away. ‘Did they check your carbon monoxide levels?’ 

You laugh, and the tension in his chest eases a little. ‘Yes, doc, I’ve been cleared for discharge.’ 

You grab his hand, squeeze. ‘I’m probably doing better than you right now.’ 

‘This is why I hate Christmas,’ Hoseok blurts out. 

You’re looking at him, but you don’t say anything, and he can’t stop anyway.

‘Everyone goes on about Christmas and goodwill and people helping each other and yet the same shit happens as the rest of the year. It means nothing, just a commercial holiday that big companies use to make money out of dumb people.’ 

‘It’s bullshit,’ Hoseok says.

‘My parents feel the same as you,’ you say. You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. ‘They never celebrated the holidays.’ 

‘They had the right idea,’ Hoseok agrees.

‘When do you get off today?’ you ask. ‘I can make us dinner, if you want.’ 

‘I don’t think I’ll be good company,’ Hoseok says, honestly. 

‘You’re welcome, even if you’re the biggest grinch in the world,’ you say, with a sweetness that makes warmth bloom in his chest. 

‘I’m not a grinch,’ he says, half-heartedly. 

‘A humbug, then,’ you say. 

You reach out and touch his cheek. 

‘Come over, later, if you want.’ 

***

Hoseok finds himself outside your apartment after his shift, wondering if you really wanted him to come over. 

You don’t keep him waiting long, soon enough you’re opening the door, handing him a glass of wine, putting food in front of him.

Hoseok hasn’t even so much as showered, he came straight from work.

You notice him looking at the half-decorated Christmas tree you’ve got in your lounge, the open box of ornaments next to it.

‘I like Christmas,’ you say. ‘I thought I’d cheer myself up by putting up a tree.’

You seem to be worried about his reaction, so Hoseok grasps your hand.

‘Just because I’m a grinch doesn’t mean you have to be,’ he says.

You smile. ‘My parents never had a tree and I always wanted one.’

The food and the wine are going a long way towards making Hoseok feel normal again after his day.

‘Are you going to see them for Christmas?’ he asks.

There’s a brief shadow across your face, so quick he isn’t sure if he saw it.

‘They’re doing relief work in South Sudan,’ you say. ‘They’re doctors too.’

You ask, ‘Are you away for Christmas?’

‘Yeah, my parents and sister are upstate. I’ll drive up to them.’

‘Are they grinches like you are?’ you ask, teasing.

Hoseok laughs. ‘I’m the only grinch in the family. My mother goes all out, and my sister loves Christmas too.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ you say, a hint of wistfulness in your tone.

Your top’s slipped down over your shoulder, and between the way your skin gleams and the way your lips are stained from the wine, you’re so pretty Hoseok’s distracted.

He reaches out, tugging you into his arms. 

‘Can I take a shower?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ you say. The mischievous twinkle is back in your eyes now. ‘Want company?’

‘Always,’ Hoseok says.

***

For once, you’re up before him the next morning. 

He must have been more tired than he realised.

You’re fastening your bra in a feat of dexterity he’s always admired. 

‘Shame I missed the show,’ he says, his voice raspy in the darkness of your bedroom. 

‘Happens every morning,’ you say. ‘You’ve got an invite every time.’ 

Hoseok laughs, rolls over, sheet around his waist. 

‘What time is it?’ he asks, propping his arm behind his head, looking out the crack in the window as the snow falling outside. 

‘It’s 6am on Christmas eve,’ you tell him. 

‘Shit, I gotta pack for tonight,’ he says. 

You pull a sweater on over a tee, sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on. 

‘I probably won’t see you until after the holidays, huh?’ 

‘I’m back in a couple days,’ Hoseok says, hand on the small of your back where your sweater’s ridden up. 

‘Yeah. Merry Christmas, Hobi. Eat all the turkey for me.’ 

‘I don’t even like turkey,’ he says, honestly. 

You laugh, amused, and cup his cheek. ‘See you after Christmas, grinch. There’s coffee in the kitchen.’ 

Your goodbye kiss makes him want to pull you back into bed with him. 

***

Hoseok pulls up outside his parents’ house, rubs the back of his neck, trying to get the crick out. 

He can see the living room and kitchen lights are on, and he already knows that when he opens the front door and steps in he’ll be greeted with familiar smells. 

Cinnamon. Fresh bread. The chicken dish his eomma always makes the night before Christmas. 

He realises with a start that he never thought to ask you what you’d be doing for Christmas. 

He’d spent an hour finishing decorating your tree after you left your apartment, so that you’d have a fully-decked out tree when you came back from work today, and had only belatedly realised that perhaps you’d have had fun decorating the tree together. 

He’d put the earrings he got you under the tree, hung the gloriously tacky blue ornament he’d picked up for you at the Christmas market. 

He’d packed the red lace panties you’d tossed merrily in his face when you’d stripped for him the night before, in the shower. 

Shit, maybe that was a creep thing to do. 

Too late now. 

The front door opens, and his sister stands in the doorway. 

‘Come on, what’s taking you so long,’ she asks. 

‘Coming,’ Hoseok says. 

He grabs his bag out the trunk and goes inside. 

***

Hoseok wonders if he’s even in the right place. 

You’d once told him, offhand, that you often volunteer at the shelter close to your apartment on Christmas day, and when he’d gone to your apartment and you weren’t in, he’d driven here. 

It’s a women’s shelter, and he’s trying to make himself look as harmless as possible as he waits to be let in. 

A woman dressed in a light-up jumper opens the door, eyes him suspiciously. 

Hoseok has a sudden feeling that he’s made a terrible mistake. 

It’s too late now. 

‘I’m Hoseok, I’m a friend of Y/N’s. Is she here?’ he asks

To his relief, the woman’s face transforms into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

‘You’re the doctor friend she keeps telling us about! Come in, she’s here.’ 

The woman grasps him by the arm, pulls him in out of the snow. 

‘She’s helping in the kitchen, you can help too, if you want.’ 

‘Sure,’ Hoseok says. Her grip on his arm is strong, there’s no way he’s going to say no. 

He’s led to an industrial looking kitchen, dated but clean, greeted by the sounds of chatter and Christmas classics. 

There’s mess everywhere, like Santa exploded, but all that falls away when he sees you.

You look up, spot him, and the smile on your face makes him smile too. He probably looks like an idiot, here grinning at you, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

You get up, and then somehow you’re in his arms, the reindeer headband you have on poking him in the jaw but he’s still not bothered.

There’s heckling, teasing, whooping, but all he sees and hears is you.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, holding him so tightly he can barely breathe. 

He likes it.

‘I forgot to wish you Merry Christmas,’ he says.

‘Merry Christmas, humbug.’

Hoseok wants to argue that he’s not a humbug, not really, but you’re kissing him, so he shuts up and kisses you back instead. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

[loadedberetta]

hospital!141 will always have a special place in my heart

Price is the leader of the unit, he transferred from family medicine; craving the rush of the hospital setting and settling for a position in the ER

Ghost (dr Riley sounds so GOOD) is a pathologist; that man hates interacting with people and the meticulousness is right up his alley. bonus: interest in microbiology and mortuary medicine

Gaz still wears his fresh white coat he got gifted after he finished residency; he's trauma med right up there with Price, eating 24 and 36 hours shifts for breakfast. bubbly and kind with a sweet spot for the nurses of his unit. always so respectful and level with them

Soap is the best orthopaedic surgeon you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting. he's bright, always has a solution for everything, and is a wizard with the scalpel. how, you don't know, as you've only seen him running around the hospital, never backing down from an extra shift yet still being there on the unit hike the following Sunday

[artistmitchy]

I've seen quite a few people question where the skin graft scars on Strive Faust's chest and arms came from. While there may be a specific reason as to how he got those that we're unaware of, a part of me always thought it was a reference to the manga Black Jack.

Black Jack is a manga series created by famed mangaka Osamu Tezuka. (The creator of Astro Boy, Jungle Emperor Leo, and Unico, among many more.) It began serialization in Weekly Shonen Magazine in 1973 and finished after 25 volumes in 1983.

The manga is about Black Jack, a skilled surgeon with an incredibly distinct look. Born as Kuro Hazama, he adopted the name Black Jack after a horrific childhood accident. When he was a boy, he accidentally stepped on a dormant World War II landmine while playing at the beach with his mother. The explosion resulted in her death, and Kuro was left in critical condition. After many surgeries, which included emergency skin grafting, Kuro survived. The accident left him permanently disfigured, and the stress from his mother's passing made half of his hair grow white. From that day on, he vowed to become a surgeon and save others, much like how a surgeon saved his life.

If you're familiar with Faust's backstory, you can already pick up some similarities between the two. While Black Jack and Faust are both humans, many people see them as monsters. They're both mocked and teased over their appearances, which is something they can't help. Much like Black Jack, Faust also picked up an alternate alias to practice his surgeries under. They're also both back alley doctors. Due to Black Jack's appearance, he couldn't receive a proper doctorate. Instead, he practices without a license, which results in him getting into trouble with the law quite often.

This could all be a massive coincidence, but Black Jack is far from obscure in Japan. As of 2024, Black Jack is the seventh best selling manga of all time, with an estimated 170 million copies sold. You could argue that it's more successful than Astro Boy in some aspects. In 2021, a life size bronze statue of Black Jack and his daughter Pinoko was installed in Tokyo. It was installed to commemorate health workers during the Covid-19 pandemic.

What I'm trying to say is that, while the scars may not be a reference to Black Jack, there's still an absolute possibility they could be.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode six - Bully in the Alley

Masterlist

Jack Dawkins x fem reader

This is a long one

"Do you think he'll like it? I should have packed more macaroons. Rainsford loves macaroons." Fanny chatted away as the three of you walked towards the stairs. You stop when you see the head nurse.

" Nurse Baggett, is Dr. Dawkins here?" You ask.

" On a Friday night? He's paying a house call on the Cat and Bagpipes." She laughs. Disappointed you turn back to your sisters who were already making their way up the stairs.

"Should I give Sneed a peek? What would you say to that?" Fanny said.

"Nothing really. Sneed isn't suited for you. His interest in us is purely political. He just wants to marry a governor's daughter and secure Head Surgeon. And he's already proposed to me." Belle rambled.

"Oh." Fanny stops walking.

"Fanny, he would've married any member of the family, including Father or the dog." Belle says.

"Belle, there is no need to be turt. Fanny, Sneed is not for you. He would not be attentive enough for you." You try to comfort her.

" So, when is your happy day?" She spits her words at Belle.

"The happy day was when I declined him." She replied.

"I should just fill my pocket with stones and walk into the sea." Fanny said.

"Sea's that way." Belle pointed.

"Belle, will you both stop this, now." You demand.

"So, just to clarify. Sneed's still available, then?" Fanny asks finally.

"For now." Belle agrees. The three of you walk into his private room. Fanny quickly delves into unpacking her basket of goodies.

"We've also got coconut macaroons, fruitcake, jam drops. Ooh, and this is pepper jelly. I made it myself to help with your recovery."

"How lovely. Lady Belle, are you well?" Sneed asks her, attempting to ignore Fanny.

"But it's quite peppery." Fanny continues.

"Better than someone who fought a pointless duel." They continued the back and fourth between the three of them. Your attention was held by the window you could hardly see through.

"Quickly. This way. Come on, quickly." You hear Hetty shouting. A Bell rings below. Running out of the room you see people clamouring all around.

"Cold compress on her. Splint that. Some doctors would be nice!" You see Hetty shouting. Jack stumbles in with a man's arm around his shoulders.

" Dr. Dawkins." You rush up to him.

" Lady y/n. Can you take him to the ward?" He hands the man over to you draping his arm over your shoulder.

"Are you even sober?" You ask.

"Three sheets to the wind. One sheet better than Prof usually is." He waves his arms. "Get your sister. I need her in the ward. Aputi, bring him in here." Jack walks away from you.

In the swirl of the chaos you do your best to help the nurses with bandaging and comforting the wounded people of Port Victory. Morning rose up without anyone really noticing. Seeing Jack standing beside the bed of one man you walked up to him.

"There's nothing more we could have done. Not with bleeding like that." He lets out a shaky breath, "Hetty, have you eaten anything at all?" He asks the nurse that looks set to fall down.

" No time." She replies.

Heavy footsteps stomp through the halls and you see your sister rushing up to Gaines.

" Captain Gaines, I will be speaking to my father!" She growls.

" Have you come to finish them off? Blinded in one eye, a fractured skull, and a ruptured femoral artery!" Jack's grits his teeth.

"All the results of resisting lawful execution of a warrant. And that's young Alfie Wilderkins if I'm not mistaken. This is a very good day indeed." Gaines grins and it churns your stomach.

" I want the men responsible court-martialled." You say.

"Well, that would be me. You'll need to tell the Governor his right hand is a criminal."

"Yes. That is a very good idea." You narrow your eyes at him.

" Arrest them. They're accomplices. All right. You, come with me." Gaines shouts and grabs one of the patients.

"They need medical care. I can't let you take these patients." You say putting your hands up across the ward door.

" They were never patients, Lady y/n. They're my prisoners. Stand aside." He moves close enough to you that you can smell the stink of his aftershave, "Your father indulges you. If you were my daughter..."

"I'd run away. Like your wife." You sneer at him. Gaines steps forward raising his hand ready to slap you but Jack catches him, wrenching him backward.

" Oi! Doc, you're needed over here." Fagin calls from the other side of the room. He drops Gaines' hand.

" Pity you didn't strike me, Dawkins." He growls at Jack before marching away.

"father can stop this!" You call to Belle.

"Where do you think I'm going?" She shouts back almost running from the hospital. You turn back to Jack.

"Are you alright?" He asks, you nod your head allowing him to take your hand.

"What do we do?" You ask.

"you've been here all night, go home and get some rest. Hetty you too. Neither of you are any good if you get sick as well." Hetty tries to protest but he shakes his head to her, "Go on, we'll be okay, come back later."

*_*_*_*

"Hold fire!" The Governor shouts as Belle wakes him by dropping. Heavy book onto the desk.

"Gaines has gone mad. People have lost their lives." Your sister tells him.

" No, surely not. I counselled moderation." He rebutes.

"Have you seen what's going on out there?" She asks.

"No, but... Oh, my word, that's lovely." He says taking a sip of congac.

" The hospital is overrun. Beaten by Gaines' men." She interrupts him.

"And I'm sorry you had to see that. The hospital really is no place for a lady. But I bear good news, Excellency." Gaines brushes past Belle. "Your operation has flushed out the notorious Kit Wilderkins."

" Oh, Gaines, that is wonderful news."your father chuckles.

" You ordered this, Father?" You ask storming into the room"

"Gaines is firm, darling, but there's a reason he kept our men alive in Africa."

"No, but he's maiming people. He's killing them." You protest.

" All regrettable incidents. Some were resisting arrest and attacking your men, Governor. I shall pray for their souls. Tell me, does your friend, Dr. Dawkins, ever cause a patient pain?" Gaines turns to you.

" Of course, in trying to help to... " You reply.

"Cure. Yes. And does Dr. Dawkins ever accidentally kill any of these patients?"

" Rarely." Belle interjects.

"And I'm sure he mourns it, as I do. You see, a colony is very much like a body..."

" Yes, I've read Hobbes." You cut him off.

"Then you will know that sometimes we must hurt in order to heal."

"A young man bled to death in the hospital overnight. What of his family?" You say.

"Ah, yes. Very sad. Alfie Wilderkins, only eighteen. Kit Wilderkins was his father. Together they held up the Murchings Bank stage coach last month, and killed three people. Corporal Hartmouth was begging for mercy when they shot him. Hartmouth had two dear little children, Rosie and William." Gaines pretended to feel remorse as he sat in a chair.

"Yes. Look, it's one thing to lose a man in battle, but to crime? It's hard to explain to the widow." The governor says.

"You see, my ladies, sometimes we need to cut a rotten part of the body politic in order to cure the whole." He speaks to you both.

"I know what part of the body politic I'd be removing." Belle bites back.

" Okay, thank you, Captain Gaines." The Governor dismisses his Captain before taking your and Belle's hands in his.

"Darlings... Darlings, I know you disapprove of Gaines and his methods. But I've been asked to turn a penal colony into a society. And I need men like him to make a prison into something better. Now, I'm not asking you to accept everything I do, but I am asking you both to support me and this family." He says.

"we will go back to the hospital and help." Belle says.

"No, we need to rest. Father, you should, perhaps put down your congac and take a good she's look at the people you surround yourself with. Come sister." You take her hand and lead her to the stairs.

"You're giving up?" She asks.

"No, Belle, Jack said we needed to sleep to rest, he sent Hetty away as well. He wants us at our best to help." You explain.

"And what will you do? Hold a few hands and get in the way?" She spat out the words.

You hold onto the emotions that threaten to spill out of your eyes.

*_*_*_*

"Belle, I may not be as smart as you are when it comes to medicine, but I am doing my best."

"You could be doing so much more, instead of wasting all your energy on a boy."

You push past her and storm up to your bedroom.

Three hours later you found yourself unable to sleep so you redressed in a simple cotton outfit, forgoing the hooped crinoline and opting for a smaller petticoat. You sneak back down stairs to the carriage that waited for you at the back of the house. Belle was already sat inside.

"took your time." She smiled. You say nothing, knocking on the carriage to signal the driver. Much to Belle's dismay you give her the cold shoulder all the way to the hospital. Choosing to keep your eyes on the trees going past.

She chased after you into the building when you arrived at the hospital.

"y/n please, I'm sorry." She calls after you. You ignore her finding Jack.

"What'd your father say? When's he going to stop this?" He asks you.

" Yes, I have spoken to my father. There are two sides to this. It's not as clear as..." you say walking through the corridors.

"He's dead. How much clearer could it be?" He almost shouts at you.

You stop and look at him for a moment, "Right, if you're to be like that, Jack..."

"I cannot believe you would give that man's story credence." He said. You turned once more marching god knows where as you spoke.

"I don't give a fig about Gaines, but I do trust my father's word on this."

"You can't agree with their methods?" He asked.

"Obviously not." You answered

" That boy bled to death in front of us."

"I know but, he was a bushranger, who killed one of Father's men."

"So they say."

" He's my father. He's many things, but he's not a liar. He's trying to bring peace to a colony you have to admit is out of control." You stomped through a closed door.

"Did you mean to walk into a cupboard?" Jack almost laughs.

" Obviously not!" You bit your lower lip to keep your emotions from bubbling over. "Gosh. You are incredibly irritating."

"So are you."

"'Cause you won't listen to anyone else's point of view. All I'm saying is it is not clear-cut."

"Look, you either want to be a help here, someone who cares for everybody, no matter how spotty their soul may be, or you are "milady," who gives six of the best to the peasants when we get uppity." He jibs you.

" Uppity? I know you had your past indiscretions, but these were bushrangers who killed three men, one a father." You reply.

" Some people need to thieve in order to eat." Jack sighs.

"And that can lead to death, too." It was getting harder to hold back your tears.

"Have you ever seen anybody dead on the streets from hunger?"

"No!" You agree.

"Have you ever paid for anything you've eaten? Or worn, or lived in?"

"That's a false syllogism." You say turning back toward the cupboard door. Jack runs up behind you.

"Whatever that is, it is not. If you can't see what is happening here, y/n, then you and I have big problems. This puts a wall between us." His arm is across You holding the door shut.

" You climbed it fine when you kissed me in the surgery." You say, a tear escaping down your face. Jack sighs, he knows he has pushed you too far. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"let me go, I should, I wish to leave." You whisper.

"Y/n-"

"I wish to leave."

You do not let any tears fall from your eyes until you reached your bedroom. Where you fling yourself upon your bed and cry until exhausted you fall asleep

*_*_*_*

The sound of Fagin's voice wakes you some time later and you tiptoe along behind him. With your arms crossed you wait at the door as he comes shuffling out of your father's office with a large Hessian bag.

"Stealing like a common thief again?" You say when he spots you.

"Yes, well only what was stolen from us in the first place." He raises his hands towards you in submission.

"Fine, take the lot. I no longer care."

"actually we could do with your help you know. Doc is getting your sister for an operation but you, you might be exactly what we need." His smile unnerved and intrigued you.

"Okay, take me there." You agree.

Belle and Dawkins come down the stairs discussing the procedure they are about to do. You pay them no mind as you step into the carriage.

"you're coming?" Jack asks hopeful.

"To help the people, not you." You say turning yourself away from them.

"Sorry about the pissing, Fagin, I just couldn't... Whoa! Hello, Your Majesty." Flashbang spoke when he saw you and Belle.

"Hello." You reply.

"Is this a criminal conspiracy?" Belle asks

"In a manner of speakin', yes."

"If you're going to the hospital, Belle, I'm coming to see Sneedy." Fanny pushes past Flashbang to get in beside Belle, forcing Jack to sit beside you. Fagin plonks himself on the luggage tray at the back and Flashbang hangs onto the side.

Jack glances at you occasionally, you are sure he wants to talk to you but you keep your eyes turned away only replying to Fanny.

At the hospital you follow them all inside. It's agreed that you'll go to the prof and distract him whilst the others got Red's baby out safely. When you were satisfied that he was deep enough into the second bottle you went up to Red's room. Fagin taking your place. Jack stands at the door.

"How is it going?" You ask keeping a distance from the doctor.

"Well I think, I'm not allowed in." He replies.

"Belle is operating alone?"

"she is more than capable."

"Of course she is, Belle would run rings around any trained man." You sit down beside Tim. "Red is strong, she'll be alright." You comfort him.

Jack watches you talk with the man, how he seems instantly at ease with you. All the people in Port Victory did. You held an air of kindness that spread out to those you spoke to. He had to admit to himself that having you here, speaking with the patients and holding their hands eased them. It made the wards feel lighter, as if death was not hanging over their heads. Taking in a long breath Jack turned back to his work opening the door just enough to call in.

" Nearly... I have it now." Belle says from.inside.

"How is it in there? Do you have the head yet?" He called.

"Now, pull up and out." Jack guides her.

" Just one more cut.* Hetty says as they clamp the umbilical chord, " She's out. Come on, Belle."

" Please breathe." Belle encourages the baby with a rub to its chest. The new born cries and everyone sighs with relief.

" Now stitch her, fascia first." Jack reminds her. "Is Red all right?" Tim pushing his way into the room.

"She's breathing steady, Tim." Belle reassures him, handing the now swaddled infant. With them all in the room you chose to stay out, waiting for Gaines to appear.

They managed to sneak the woman and the baby out of the room and secret her away in Jack's room.

Belle is cleaning away her equipment when Jack walks back in.

"We did it. Hetty and I, we kept them both alive." She smiles.

" In time for your father to hang her." Jack snaps back. Belle is about to argue when the door opens and Aputi and Flash bring a large basket into the room. You follow them in as they place the covered body on the bed.

"Well done."

"No! You're body snatching!" Belle rrmarks.

"Pretty standard in our line of work." Jack comments.

" You can't be serious."

"Belle,This is the only way to save her." You say.

" Clearly pregnant. Very good." Jack says before pulling the sheet back, "Clearly not pregnant. This a man." He chastises them.

" Big Kit's all we had in the deadhouse, Dr. Jack." Aputi explained as they left the room.

"This is madness! It can't work! And it's a capital offence!" Belle snapped

" So is killing a mother before she's even put her own child to her breast." You snap back.

"So, what's more important, milady?"

You are the first to hear Gaines approaching and slip out of the room. Jack follows you closing the door behind him.

"Captain," you pretend to feel sadness. "I fear the mother and baby died on the table. How does one bear this sort of loss, Captain?" You put a hand on his chest, keeping him from moving further. "I have never seen it, but perhaps you were right, darkness cannot birth light I suppose." You say. He nods.

"Yes, lady y/n, it is awful when the innocent are tard by the guilty." He pushes your hand away and attempts to step past you.

"You can't go in. Her body's undressed. For shame. And you, a Godly man. Have you no decency?" You pour every bit of heartache you had into the words.

"I need to see the body." He tells you.

" What are you going to do, Captain? Hang her corpse?" You ask.

" Have the Professor bring me the death certificate." The Captain hisses.

"Dr. Dawkins can sign it."

"No! I would find it much more reliable if the Professor signs it." He walks away. Turning yourself round to Jack you look up at him.

"Thank you." He says.

"I didn't do it for you." You drop your eyes to the ground.

"y/n, I-" you shake your head, "I'll see to the patient." He lets you walk away from him, wishing he hadn't.

Knocking on the door you step into the room, Red sat on the small bed by the window.

"How are you?" You ask.

"Better now. You know you are nothing like the rest of your family. There's a little crime in you." Red said with a chuckle, "would you like to hold her?"

You nod and come forward, sitting on the end of the bed. You take the bundle into your arms and rock her.

"She's beautiful." You say a wide smile on your face.

"it's suits you." Tim states.

"What is it, why didn't you follow society? Why ain't you married?" Red asked.

"oh, I.... I'm not well. I wouldn't make a man a widower or a child and orphan." You reply, keeping your eyes on the sleeping baby.

"Sorry." Red whispered. Not long after Fagin arrived and then Jack. At first you wanted to leave but you stayed at Tim's request. Jack poured you all a small glass of Fagin's stolen liqueur.

When at last Belle was done with her cleaning she came up to find you. Not wanting to speak to her you simply walked alongside to the carriage.

At home again you sat in your bed the blankets over knees when Belle and Fanny came giggling into her room. Belle climbed into the bed beside you and Fanny dropped her head to your lap.

"I shared my first kiss." She said looking UK at you.

"With Sneed?" You asked.

" And did you enjoy it?" Belle cuddled closer. "Mixed. At first, it was lovely. But then I think I hurt him rather badly. He was quite angry, actually." She screwed up her face.

"Someone'll sweep you off your feet when you least expect it in the most inconvenient of moments." You say brushing back her hair and stroking her face with the back of your hand.

" I had a thought." She said, flipping herself onto her stomach, "Considering your health, perhaps you and Dr. Dawkins could have a long, happily unconsummated love affair until he walks off, desolate, into the windswept moors..." she all but sings her fantasy, you feel a pang of gult.

"We don't have moors here." Belle reminded her.

"But yes, that is a nice thought." You agree. Your sisters cuddle into you and you all giggle over the day until your mother commands you all to bed.

*_*_*_*_*

Fagin and Dawkins sat at a table in the tavern, Rotty poured them both a drink I to the metal tankards.

"So, our old Cheekybones did well." Fagin grins. "Yeah. She did, didn't she?"

"And her sister, the older one, she is a boone, still, it's not really their world, is it? And you've got to remember, Dodge, theirs isn't yours." He reminded the younger man. Jack played with his cup and turned to the window. His heart leaps in his chest when he sees the nicest sight he had seen in days. Without saying a word to his companion, Jack walked outside.

"Milady. I must warn you I am a little bit drunk. In fact, I am approaching strutting pigeon."

You smile from below your cape, dropping the hood down. Reaching out you take the cup from his hand and swallow down the liquid.

" So am I, now." You smile, "The crime, it's not just for survival. You actually love it." You say.

"The worst parts of me do." Jack admits.

"well, I cannot say I did not enjoy getting one over on Gaines." You admit. Jack laughs.

" It's hopeless, isn't it?" You take a step toward him.

"Oh, yes. We are completely unsuited." He agrees matching your movement.

"We should really never see each other socially." You offer up words you don't believe.

"No, that wouldn't be right." He said moving close enough to slide his hand around your waist. Crashing his lips to yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest. You spin him round so his back hits the wall.

" Holy hell, we're in trouble." You whisper.

"So much trouble." Jack he replies placing his lips to yours and you feel all your resolve disappearing.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." Jack speaks between kisses.

Everything had changed in that few seconds. Your life would never be the same.

Episode seven

@fandomfan-102

[cutekittenlady]

One thing I'm likely to retcon in my headcanons regarding my earthspark kobd headcanons is Breakdowns knowledge about Knockouts history.

Before I had the idea that Knockout kept his history on cybertron as a back alley surgeon who worked on gladiators because he was insecure about what Breakdown would think.

However I've since decided that its FAR more interesting if that particular bit of drama was between Breakdown and Bumblebee. Especially with my ideas regarding Bumblebees initial view of Breakdown and Knockouts relationship. If Bumblebee finds out, likely from Megatron, about Knockouts true history and that he kept it a secret from most of the decepticons hed likely assume that he kept it from breakdown too.

Of course, it turns out Knockout absolutely told breakdown about his actually history before/during their ritus (while absolutely wondering if hed leave him for it) but the fun bit is that Bumblebee wouldn't know that.

So, after finding out about their relationshp and then subsequently coming to find out about the sorta things Knockout got up to on Cybertron, he'd naturally seek out Breakdown to tell him about how Knockout has been lying about who he was this whole time and their conjunxing may have been under false pretenses.

Now to further paint the picture, Breakdown really wants Bumblebee to accept his relationship with Knockout. He was his best friend before the war, practically a brother, so of course he wants him to accept that Knockout truly loves him. So imagine how he feels when he finds out that Bumblebee went behind his back to (presumably) dig up what he clearly considers dirt on knockout and present it to him as "proof" that knockout isnt being honest with him and essentially discredit their entire relationship.

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

*An AU but not too far off from what we are familiar with. Becca doesn’t exist and Reader has a secret that she hasn’t told anyone. This is my first fanfic on Tumblr.*

Triggers: r*pe, a*ortion, mild violence, confession, angst, alcohol consumption, language

Part 1

Everyone filed into the dirty, musky hideout exhausted from today’s mission. The intel was shit and wasn’t enough to take down Homelander or Vought. As Frenchie, Kimiko, MM went into their assigned rooms, Hughie bid everyone goodbye before heading to his apartment with Annie. Butcher stomped over to the kitchen table and began skimming through multiple manilla folders that lay sprawled out. As the minutes ticked by, you could tell by the expression on Butchers face that he was getting progressively angry, his fists slamming on the kitchen table confirmed it. You approached him and placed a hand on this shoulder. He turned around and the eyes filled with fury softened as soon as they peered into yours. You saw there was a sizeable gash around the outer arch of his left eyebrow, blood trickling down his face.

“What the hell! Where did you get that?” you asked him, gently grabbing his face, and taking a closer look. Butcher just shrugged and replied,

“One of them cunts had a knife. Didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Well looks like you need stiches. Sit.”

“I’m not a fuckin dog y/n. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Sit!” You raised your voice while looking as sternly as you could while pointing to the chair next to the kitchen table. Butcher plopped down and began pouting, crossing his arms over his chest. You walked over to the cabinets above the fridge and pulled out a first aid kit. Walking back over, you pulled out gloves, suture, a small bottle of iodine, a pair of needle holders and a forcep. Grabbing a paper towel located on the table, you clean the wound with iodine and begin suturing. Butcher let out a hiss.

“Fuckin hell could you be more careful? Fuckin hurts.”

“Don’t be such a baby. I’m sure you’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure those small hands are capable of being a lot softer than what your doin’ now luv.”

“Butcher I am being as soft as I can be. You should count yourself lucky it didn’t get any closer to your eye.” You said as you continued suturing.

Before joining The Boys, you were an officer in the United States Army as a Field Surgeon, so you knew the ins and outs of the human body. You joined The Boys after Grace Mallory found you sobbing and cradling your dead husband in a back alley after a supe brutally killed him. You were only 3 days back home from a yearlong deployment. Grace knew how to play into your hatred towards the supes, and that’s how you ended up with the motley crew. You got along with everyone but the person you got along most with was Billy Butcher, and dare you say he was gentler with you than others. The shared hatred the two of you had for supes and the lengths you would go to extract your revenge is what made the pair of you a match made in heaven. A match which neither of you confessed your feelings towards the other. Butcher opened to you about his past when he trusted no one else. He told you about his abusive father and the great lengths he would go to protect his little brother, Lenny. He told you how Homelander killed Lenny and that he hopes to take down those cunts in the tower.

You finished the last stitch and placed the utensils onto the kitchen table. You wiped up the remaining blood on Butchers face, hands shaking as you went. Butcher uncrossed his arms and watched your every step. You removed the latex gloves and inspected your handiwork, as gently as you could turning his head slightly.

“There. All better now. Now don’t pick at it otherwise you’ll have an ugly scar on this beautiful mug.” You flirt halfheartedly. Butcher reached his hands out and wrapped them around yours. Your focus went from the fixed skin to his soft hazel eyes. Your heart began to thud in your chest as you grew more nervous.

“Why you shakin’ luv? You weren’t hurt me.” Butcher spoke softly. You stood like that, eyes locked, for what felt like forever, inching closer and closer. Butcher then snaked one of his hands behind your head and leaned forward. He closed his eyes and started to pucker his lips for a kiss.

What could have been a romantic moment that confirmed the mutual feelings, turned into full panic mode. You promptly pulled back and placed the tips of your fingers on Butchers lips, pushing him away. Butcher’s eyes went wide, and he dropped his hands.

“I thought the feeling was mutual. Sorry.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice as his eyes dropped to the floor. Your heart broke.

 “I’m not good enough for you.” You replied quickly. Butcher’s eyes went as big as dinner plates as he again made eye contact with you.

“What? Where’d you get that idea? It’s me not good enough for you.”

“No… no Butcher I’m not good enough for you.”

“What’s gotcha thinkin’ this hm?” You almost spilled your guts right then and there. But what you were about to tell him, you knew he needed a drink or two or three or the whole damn bottle. You went to grab 2 glasses and a bottle of whiskey. You approached Butcher and handed him an empty glass. Then you poured the whiskey into the glasses and promptly drank yours. Butcher looked at you suspiciously as he sipped his drink. You poured yourself another one.

 “You’ll want to drink that before I tell you what I’m about to tell you.” Butcher knocked back the glass and set it on the table. You refilled it and gave him an expectant look. After the second glass of whiskey was consumed, you took a deep breath and confessed.

 “I’m a supe.” Butcher paused. He narrowed his eyes and said menacingly,

“You wha?”

“I’ll start from the beginning. You remember that time when Homelander kidnapped me?” You were practically vibrating with nerves in the chair across from Butcher. If it were anyone else, you’re almost certain Butcher would have blown up and placed a bullet in their head.

“Yeah. Just about one of the worst days of me life.”

“We’ll he took me to the tower and kept me in the lab under heavy watch. He said that he wanted to punish you for coming after him, after Vought. At first, I thought that he was going to kill me, but he… they… injected me with Compound V.” Butcher was silent as he stared at the table, digesting what you were telling him.

“He kept me there for a few days to make sure that my vitals were okay, and that I wasn’t going to die. He then took me to this cabin in the woods. While there he got into his head that he was going to keep me to breed the ‘best superhuman’. He… he kept…” you trailed off as flashbacks to Homelander forcing himself on you came flooding into your memory. You continued,

“He raped me. Multiple times. He left one day for a meeting in the tower and left me alone. I was still guarded but they must’ve been new hires cuz they fought like shit. When I finally found my opening, I escaped. I have no idea how long time passed but it felt like eternity. I couldn’t go to you. I was afraid you’d hate me for what I became. I hate myself for what I am. I went to Grace, and she took mercy on me. She took me under her wing and kept me hidden in the compound outside New York. There, I found out I was pregnant.” Butcher started bobbing his leg up and down while brushing his beard. He then said gruffly,

 “And the baby?”

“Gone. Had it removed as soon as I knew. I actually made it so I can’t any children… with anyone.” Butcher’s eyes met yours. His eyes were filled with fury.

“You told me you were gone training. You lied to me.”

“I did train once my body recovered. I learned what my abilities are and how to keep them in check. You gotta believe me, I wanted to tell you, but I was scared of what you would do. Please… Billy.” You reached a handout to his and he yanked his body away from yours.

“Who else knows?!” Butcher roared.

“Just you and Grace.” A long silence fell between the two of you. Butcher then grabbed the bottle of whiskey and stormed out of the hideout. Tears began filling your eyes as your heart sank into your stomach. This man you were incredibly close with, had feelings for, would give your life for, just walked out on you. MM and Frenchie came out of their rooms to investigate what was going on. They spotted you curled up on the chair, weeping. Frenchie rushed towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

 “Mon cher what is wrong?” MM approached the table and sat down in the place Butcher left open. You wiped the tears from your face and looked at the two men. You need to tell them, you thought.

“What did that asshole do?” MM asked you. You took a shaky but deep breath.

“I told him… I’m a supe.” Both MM and Frenchie exchanged looks. MM then grabbed your hand and said,

“Go on.”

[flowerflamestars]

For the backstory asks: the fairy and merchant grandmothers from Effloresce and mama Archeron also from the same fic. Your Vanserra family backstory since more of the brothers are dead and Sorcha is the Vanserra and Beron married in. Your version of Rhysand's mother and sister, because I love the previous posts about them. Llewellyn in both the soul mate aus. Ellie as well. Just the magic system in general of the universe. Where Jason got the idea of the "I love you×10000000" flower language bouquets. What happens to the time lines after Nesta and Lucien are sent back. What is Lucien's deal with Helion in lucnes affair fic? How is the human lands fairing in any of the acotar fic? Sorry if this is a lot! Thank you!

No apologies necessary, I love abundance!

Murder tree Grandma and Archeron Grandma both get to have relevant plot fairly soon in Effloresce's timeline, so minor spoilers from here on: Mama Archeron was a faery princess. Think the little mermaid but more flighty and impetuous. Those legs were meant for frolicking, and that's what she did, right up until her death. Her mother, off in the Blooming Country, is very interested in finding her murderer.

Calista Archeron- merchant grandma- lived a very expected life until she was about 45. She was the unnamed head of the family. She protected her vassals, loved her land, made absolute heaps of money. And then, one day, her healer told her those little pains, strange aches she was having, indicated a lethal condition. Years left, maybe. If she was very lucky.

Calista looked at her prosperous, respectable life- her fun, not a love match gay husband, her well-educated and happily married son, next generation already born, her well-hammered out contracts- and decided to live. For herself. For just a while. A faked death later (her husband absolutely helped), the untouched fortune she brought to her marriage secreted away, Calista set out to find the dreaming city all her ships had long sailed to.

My tract with the Vanserra backstory is that Sorcha is Autumn Faery Elizabeth of York, basically. Beron's a conqueror. He married her greater claim, and remade Autumn into what it is now. I do different brother stuff in different stories, but a through-line is the desperate, violent fighting for favor under a monstrous father. Who may never even die. The longest long terms plans and the haunting futility of really trying. Lucien being the youngest is an incidental saving grace, this has all already been doing on for centuries by the time he was born.

I've said it before, but by almost any measure, even in canon, Rhysand's mother and sister were both about 10x cooler than he'll ever be. For fun, I like to reject the bad marriage proposition- the writing there is also just. SO weak- I think Rhy's mum was cool and hot and wild, to a degree that her ancient traditional faery husband probably couldn't keep up. His true love gifted chaos gremlin. If Rhys is most of his own parents bad qualities (reckless, too invested in his own power, ect.- by accident almost certainly, the books DO make a firm argument for this point for both him and Feyre), than his sister gets to be a different mix. Maybe she was better at understanding her restrained father. Maybe her mother foresaw her absolute break with tradition that her existence implied.

Llewellyn! He's a trauma surgeon by most recent training. He was born in 1919, which makes him older than almost everyone he loves and, conversely, an absolute cute little infant of a witch. He's Thomas O'Malley the alley cat but grumpy, about to scowl his way through sweeping all of Dick's siblings under his wing. He's the only au character who had a good childhood. His most natural magic is a creeping, crawling, consuming bloody control that he has very, very stubbornly pivoted into being a doctor. His hated of Nazi's is deeply personal, seconded only by his distaste for his first magical mentor, the reason he ever had such experiences in the first place. Whereas Dick is like, candy coating of charm stretched over a league of extreme competence and HOPE that almost hides a nuclear core of rage- Llewellyn is all scowls and stubborn enjoyment of being truly excellent at things, but the love is right beneath the surface at all times.

Ellie gets a more traditional shitty Gotham background (partially for Very Plot Relevant Reasons)- she's the only daughter of a teen mom. She has three half-siblings she's never met and looks a little too much like. She spent much of her childhood poor and clever and furious, being repeated rejected by bougie private school. She has connections to the irish mob. Her mom named her Eleanor Grace (REDACTED) in a hope of upward mobility. She's equally lost as Llewellyn is, and hides it almost as well. She went to Wizard Parliament and promptly punched someone in the face- (the fact that he was born in 1467 made this much easier, considering her limited reach). The attack dog on a chain ism of Jason/Elle gets almost immediately flipped whenever she really gets going- she is NOT ANYONE'S moral center, actually. Just a heart.

"I love you×10000000" flower arrangements- a name which is making me laugh, thank you- is a couple things. For one thing, Jason is a dramatic bitch in almost every possible way. He's also. DEEP deep deep deep deep down, got just a lil childhood shyness leftover that he covers with immense bravado and/or being an asshole. This has synthesized to make him a Gestures Guy. (see: knives, guns, eye-wateringly expensive lipstick and what he's going to do when he actually figures out her real family situation). He's also, it cannot be unsaid, a massive fucking nerd.

OOOO! Timeloop, okay. A constant, which you might recall drives Lucien very lightly insane at the start, is that the Archeron sisters die or drown. Always. Fae or death. Early death timelines are bad for everyone involved, and usually end in Lucien's shared premature demise or Hybern winning the war. When Nesta has time, they get more interesting. Dead Rhys causes, across several lives: Feyre as high lady NC civil war, HL Morrigan, Illyrian breakaway, Elain throwing up her hands and taking over with Eris, and so many Feyre breakdowns. Loop 25 when they all die causes massive civil war (spring + autumn team up never to be repeated in quite the same way) and the destruction of night. Loop 27 (Cassian murders Lucien and Nesta, in turn, rips out of his heart) leaves Feyre in a life where she's bound by death promise to a man she's left. I like to imagine she goes back to Spring.

Affair fic Helion involvement is to be revealed, but the basics are that he needs an heir. Lucien agrees to actually be that heir (and help kill Beron) in exchange for any help to save Nesta, a thing he does not totally understand a heartbroken Helion would have given to him for free.

So, in effloresce the human lands have much more complicated/normal governments, cities, populations ect. In almost every other story I tend to go with canon...which seems to be that it's a giant mess? Humans don't get to have religion or history, (equality for anyone but their...hereditary matrilineal monarchy?????), and all their queens rule...together? and are now missing and or/evil/presumed dead after the war? I like to think this triggers greater regional independence and societal change, but yeah. It's bad after the war. It has to be absolute chaos in the ruins beneath the wall.

[ace-is-bby]

This next piece is a picture I've literally been working on all damn day.

This Idea has been legitimately plaguing my mind for like ever.

It's a modern day Au (where they are of course gender swapped one day I will draw them normally but that day is not today)

Maybe sometimes this month or next month but no promises

Info about the modern Au

LAW

Is a surgeon

Loves the color black

Luffy attached herself one day and now Law can't avoid the strange ASL siblings and is now the unspoken fourth member of the family

Clearly and insomniac

Has Zero tolerance for bullshit

Has an on and off relationship with Eustass Kidd ( everytime there's a girls night they just so happen to be broken up) And somehow Luffy always knows when to invite her out

Regrets the company she hangs around since they constantly get her in trouble.

ACE

The responsible one but no one will believe it when she stands next to Sabo

Has Daddy issues and that's why she has a specific taste in men

A professional arsonist and loves to get on Dr.Newgate (MARCOS) Nerves

Is a Narcoleptic and eats a lot

Is kind of a guppy when you get her mad enough.

Works as a bartender and occasionally a stripper and gets paid a lot.

SABO

The fancy one who everyone thinks is super responsible but is actually chaotic.

Tells people that she is the responsible one knowing that everyone will believe her and she does this because according to Ace "she is a little shit that likes to get on my nerves"

Can't remember names for the life of her she blames it on her scar but it's not the scars fault

Works in a corporate building as a spy for another company called the Revolutionaries

Purposely gets her co-workers upset over shit whenever they get too close to the truth and it works everytime

Is super rich but uses the money for actual useful things

Sometimes has a hard time remembering other things aside from names due to her eye scar which she got some time ago.

LUFFY

The one that is always acting on intrusive thoughts.

Hangs out with Traffy because apparently she can tell Traffy is lonely.

Works as a waitress

Usopp and Sanji got her the job and every week she is seconds away from getting fired

Loves Meat and is always attempting to eat the food shes supposed to give to the customers.

Doesn't care about stuff until her friends and family are involved and then all hell breaks loose

Loves going to the underground fight club where she convinces Kidd to apologize and go back out with Law like every week.

The story behind the picture ⤵

In the modern day AU, they are going for a "girls night out" trip however it goes horribly wrong after they come across a dead body it the Alley way. Anyways They have all had bad run in with the cops and they all all taken to hail for 24 hours because every last one of them is shady but none of them killed the guy

In the end they get let out since there was no evidence to incriminate them except for the fact that ASL knew who the man was but pretended like they had no clue and Law knows this but kept quiet because clearly they all ride or die for one another. Anyways, the man who died was a random OC dude named Pastor John who had a thing for Ace ever since Ace was 14 (Nasty ass dirtbag). At that time ASL were abducted but they escaped. They needed help getting home and Pastor John took them there but he had other intentions that he was never able to see through.

After that, day that had never seen or heard from Pastor John again until they saw him dead in the Alley way.

Later they find out Shanks killed the guy for attempting to creep on Ace

And the group lives Happily Ever after until the next problem arises for them again.

Sorry for rambling but sometimes I have stories to these pictures and I need everyone who is willing to read this to know it.

[she-karev]

Pregnancy (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev's Sister One Shot Request)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

AN: Hey guys I see you liked my last post. I finished the last chapter so here it is and the next story will be posted soon.

Summary: Andrew brings a heavily pregnant Amber to work after she complained about maternity leave and she goes into labor.

Words: 3035

October 20, 2022

Andrew opens the door to the attendings lounge for me and I happily enter. After our little staring contest, he submitted and drove back to work with me in the passenger seat. Along the way we came to an agreement that I would watch his surgery from the gallery and watch him teach the interns after as long as I let him know the second, I get tired or go into labor. As long as it got me out of the house, I would agree to give Kwan a big fat kiss and among the new interns he’s my least favorite. Alex and Jo are also in the room eating lunch at the table when they look up at me surprised. Jo immediately stands up and rushes to me.

“Amber are you okay? Are you in labor?” Jo asks me worried, “I can get Dr. Montgomery if she’s not busy with the sex video.”

“No, I’m fine I am not in labor and did you just say Dr. Addison Montgomery is doing a sex video?” I ask surprised after processing that startling piece of information. Normally having a world-renowned surgeon visit the hospital I work at would be my main focus if the words ‘sex video’ didn’t come after.

Alex chuckles at that and explains, “She’s here to do a sex ed video for teens and put it up on social media so we don’t see kids come in with unplanned pregnancies or sepsis from back-alley abortions.”

I turn to Jo who still looks at me worried, “See that right there is how you should have paraphrased take notes.”

“Will do, just to be clear you are not in labor?” Jo asks me and I clarify.

“Not currently no.”

“She’s here because she’s going crazy with boredom and it was either take her with me or get another false alarm from the O.R.” Andrew explains.

“And you couldn’t win an argument against her?” I glare at Alex underestimating me who notices and turns back to Andrew, “Never mind you never had a chance.”

Andrew chuckles, “Exactly. Besides without her here the interns are getting sloppy, maybe she can scare them into doing better or make them pee their pants.”

I gasp at that wonderful suggestion and turn to Jo with a smile, “Where are the interns?”

Jo chuckles, “Their busy with Dr. Montgomery’s video unless you want to work your magic into scaring teenagers to use contraceptives.”

“As appealing as that sounds and I am using very heavy sarcasm, I came here to watch surgeries. I’m gonna save moralizing teenagers for my own in about 13 years. And now I have a craving, are there pickles in the fridge?”

“Yeah.” Alex gets up, takes the jar of pickles out of the fridge and hands them to me.

“Thanks.” I sip the sour pickle juice straight out of the jar completely ignoring the pickles. I exhale in content and see Alex and Jo looking at me strangely no doubt thinking it’s weird I drank from the pickle jar, “What?”

“That was nasty kid.” Alex tells me with a wince, “You kiss your husband with that mouth?”

“Yep.” I turn to Andrew who takes a sliced pickle out of the jar and eats it, “She’s got the fridge full of pickles, olives and anchovies. She drinks all of them straight from the jar.” Alex groans in disgust, “I save the kissing until she’s brushed her teeth for at least three minutes.”

Jo nods in agreement still appalled by my weird cravings, “Good call.”

I sip my juice before I lay it on her, “I got a Chestburster in me and while I love your daughter like she’s my flesh and blood you did not physically carry her therefore you don’t know the hormones and strange cravings I get. So, you both can save the judgements until one of you gets a baby in your uterus, got it!” I don’t mean to be rude but pregnancy brain is getting to me in more ways than one.

Jo takes a step back and stands by Alex who also looks intimidated, “I think we hit a nerve in your sister.”

Alex nods, “Yeah let’s not look her directly in the eye.”

I roll my eyes at them and eat a pickle slice when Dr. Benson Kwan comes in, who’s eyes widen at my appearance.

“Dr. DeLuca or DeLuca’s sorry I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” Kwan is suddenly alert, “Wait is the baby coming? Do I need to get a wheelchair?”

“Relax Kwan your safe from the giant green-eyed resident.” I inform him annoyed.

“Oh no I wasn’t thinking that at all.” He’s trying to butter me up and gives me his most charming grin, “I mean there are plenty of interns that think that but I don’t. I practically defended you to Adams and Griffith when they complained about you rightfully scolding them on their mistakes. It’s intern year it comes with the job they shouldn’t take it out on a chief resident who also happens to be carrying a new life quite beautifully I might add.”

“Kwan as her husband and your superior I’m gonna suggest you don’t flirt with the mother of my unborn child unless you want me to end your surgical career.” My husband says threatening clearly peeved by Kwan trying to flirt with me to get surgeries. Kwan stops grinning and faces Andrew who keeps a cool face, “Whether it’ll be by going to the medical board or breaking all of your fingers depends on what you say next.” I grin at that seeing that four years with me has made him more assertive and tough. I never would have expected this level of intimidation from the clumsy and gentle resident I first met.

I step in with a sweet grin at Kwan, “Kwan I’m gonna save you the trouble and tell you what I really think of you and your attempts to placate me for surgeries. In short from the moment, I first met you I thought ‘wow he’s just like my oldest brother when he was that age’” Kwan grins slightly taking it as a compliment until I crush him with my disappointed frown that follows with harsh words, “I hated my brother when he was your age.” I can hear Andrew snickering behind me, “If you think I’m being amusing I am not, ask anyone who was here circa 2005 and they can tell you my brother was hate worthy even by his lovely and sweet sister. Alex?” I turn to said brother who looks up from eating clearly trying to keep out of my rant to a random intern, “How much would you say I disdained you when you were an intern?”

He speaks to Kwan while chewing on a sandwich, “She hated my guts.”

“Exactly.” I turn back to Kwan who is taken back by this scene, “If you want to flirt your way into the O.R. and risk pissing off your superior you picked the wrong girl because the way I see it I am a ticking time bomb filled with hormones and I feel like punching someone more than I normally did. So, pissing me off is like poking a tiger when the zookeepers let it out of its cage.” Kwan’s eyes widen at that allegory, “I think you can see where this is going and if you’re as smart as you think you are you should know what to do when I count to three. One, two-” Kwan finally processes that last statement as he quickly runs out of the room like I’m Freddy Krueger. I hear chuckling from Alex, Jo and Andrew who are all pleased by my actions and I smile victoriously.

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

I sit in the gallery by myself watching as Andrew does an open splenectomy with Griffith assisting. It’s not an ALPSS procedure or a gastric bypass but it’s better than slowly going insane in that house. He keeps looking up at the gallery every ten minutes to check that I’m still there and not going into labor. He does it again and I stick my tongue out to mess with him, I see him smirk behind the mask and look back at the open abdomen. A brown coffee cup appears in front of me, I look to my right and see that Jo is here to check on me.

“Ginger tea?” I groan in disgust at what I’m forced to drink but take it anyway. Jo sits next to me, “I would have been a cool sister and gotten you coffee but I’m also in OB and know that caffeine being bad for the baby isn’t just a myth. Plus, I’m guessing you already had a cup this morning.”

“In the biggest mug we have so it’ll technically be three cups of coffee.” I confess as I sip my bland hot brew, “This is vile.”

“Well it’s good for you and it’s good for the baby.” I turn to Jo fully with an inquisitive look that she catches, “What?”

“Come on give me the gossip, what’s in the tabloids since I’ve been gone?” Jo chuckles, “Don’t laugh I live for this, I’m angsty for surgery and the drama that comes before, during and after the O.R. and in this place there is a lot. Fill me in.”

Jo sits up straight and clears her throat, “Okay uh what’s been happening? Oh! Link slept with one of the interns before she started working here, it’s the pretty one the one you said looks like a CW star.”

“Millin? Damn she doesn’t strike me as one to sleep up the totem pole.”

“Your one to talk.” Jo criticizes, “You’re a resident and your married to an attending.”

“We started dating when we were both residents.” I say defensively and add, “And weren’t you a resident when you shacked up with my attending brother? And you technically still are with the OB scrubs so not much has changed. What do you have to say to that?”

“…Hi Pot, I’m Kettle.” Jo holds her hand out grinning and I chuckle at that shaking her hand, “So we agree we’re in no positions to judge. Besides there aren’t gonna be wedding bells this time since she told Link they should just be friends.”

I chuckle at that irony, “Which is translated to ‘you’re not my type so stay away from me’ and coming from an intern that is next level low. What else?”

“Hunt and Altman are still at each other’s throats, I’m pretty sure you saw a little of what went on before you left.”

I bitterly nod, “Even my baby was cringing at them arguing.” Jo laughs, “I’m serious you try doing rounds in trauma with a married couple who work together like they’re in a cock fight.” Jo coughs the coffee she sipped and I roll my eyes at her not getting my metaphor, “Fight’s between chickens their all the range in Mexico it has nothing to do with what you obviously think it is. It’s when you have chickens trained to kill each other in the ring for money but instead of chicken it’s Hunt and Altman and instead of getting money out of it you get uncomfortable situations.”

Jo nods understanding, “Well we can’t all be Andrew and Amber.”

“Or Alex and Jo. Speaking of which, how is my niece doing? Is she excited to meet her cousin?”

“Well, she’s a baby so she’s excited about everything I think she’s gonna be ecstatic when you bring your baby into our house.” Jo looks at me worried, “Are you sure it’s okay to be here? I mean you look ready to pop right here.”

“You mean right here in a hospital one floor down from OB where my sister in law works while I’m talking to my favorite sister-in-law who switched to OB during covid?”

“You know I hope your kid gets your smartass mouth then you’ll know what it’s like to deal with that for once.” Jo retorts with an evil grin that I look to respond to only for a sudden feeling in my stomach to stop me.

“Oh!” I hold my bulging stomach as a dull ache forms in my lower back and pelvis. It feels like menstrual cramps only ten times stronger which can only mean one thing. I try to stay calm but Jo can tell something is wrong and looks at me anxiously.

“What is it? What are you feeling? Do not lie to me I know that face I might be a resident but I know all the faces of a woman in labor.”

“Then I guess I don’t need to tell you my contractions just started.” Jo’s eyes widen at that and I look back at Andrew who is still doing his surgery oblivious of what’s happening to his wife above him. The pain gets worse it feels like a bunch of needles from the pits of hell are being inserted in my stomach, “Ahh! Holy John Hurt!”

Jo runs to the intercom as I breathe in and out trying to ride out this contraction, “DeLuca please tell me your about to close.”

“I am.” DeLuca sounds calm even as my guts feel like their being torn apart.

“Okay great because your wife is in labor like right now.” I can see that he’s now alert and looks up as I’m leaning forward holding my stomach.

“What?!” Andrew asks panicking, “Are you sure?”

Another contraction comes and I yell out in pain once again with Jo pressing the button making my pain clear to the O.R. “Yep pretty sure that is the sound of your wife having a contraction. Griffith take over closing.” I can see Griffith looking back and forth at DeLuca and Jo startled, “Now!” DeLuca hands her the tools and immediately runs out of the O.R. Jo runs back to me and holds my hand carefully lifting me to stand up and helping me out of the gallery.

“Please tell me Lachman is on call today.” I ask in pain.

“No, she’s not I’m sorry.” I groan at that, “But good news Dr. Montgomery is here and lucky for us she is an OB and not related to you so she can take over.”

“As long as I get the drugs, I will let Adams deliver this baby.”

Andrew immediately runs toward us looking anxious not that I blame him, “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

I groan as he takes over holding my hand, “First contraction and I know exactly what John Hurt felt in that scene of Alien.”

“I’ll go up and get a room ready for you.” Jo runs to do that and I spot Lucas Adams and Mika Yasuda chatting and walking down the hall.

“You two!” They jump startled by my presence and I command them with a tone that would scare a military soldier to their mom, “Front and center now!” They both run to me clearly afraid.

Andrew rubs my back to soothe me and turns to the interns, “Yasuda get a wheelchair and Adams page Dr. Montgomery for us.”

Yasuda looks at us confused, “A wheelchair?”

Clearly my husband is less willing to use force so I do with a clear and loud voice, “A wheelchair Yasuda now!” She runs and almost trips to get a wheelchair and Adams looks at me scared but confused.

“What should I tell Dr. Montgomery?”

I ignore Adams and Andrew is talking to me trying to see if I’m okay as my stomach rumbles like the baby is trying to kick her way out. It feels more uncomfortable than painful, “What do you need? Ice chips? Maybe a bear to strangle?”

I exhale as I take in his options, “I don’t want an innocent bear to suffer because of me.”

“Dr. DeLuca?”

“What?!” Andrew snaps clearly annoyed.

“What should I tell Dr. Montgomery when she answers her page?” As if the gods wanted to give him a clear answer my water breaks over my sweatpants and on Adams shoes that he notices and looks up in shock with Andrew looking down surprised but composed. I looked back up at the intern with an annoyed face due to the leakage that just happened ruining my clothes.

“Tell her my contractions just started and my water broke all over your shoes.” Adams nods and pulls out his phone. I know he struggles with directions so I decide to make myself clear, “And so help me Adams if you send her to the wrong room or forget to page her, I will forget the bear and strangle you instead.” He gulps but nods.

Andrew gently guides me to the wheelchair behind me that Yasuda thankfully brought in, “Okay let’s sit so I can take you to OB.”

“Okay, hey, hey.” Andrew focuses on me and I grin as the joyous occasion hits me, “We’re having a baby.”

Andrew laughs and smiles at that too, “We’re having a baby.” He then kisses me and pulls back still smiling, “I’m overjoyed and terrified you?”

I chuckle, “I’m those things too and it’s worse because I have to push a bowling ball through a keyhole that is my vagina so there is that. If you want to walk away now and be like those 50’s husbands that stand outside the room to smoke here’s your five second chance.”

“I’m not going anywhere not this time.” He references when we went through a rough patch during his mental breakdown and when he left, “I promise.”

My emotions are sky high with that because of the love I feel for him and the surge of hormones coursing through me. I even feel a tear down my cheek but I sniffle and compose myself, “Good that was a test and you passed. Now take me to a bed and get me a damn epidural so this baby doesn’t kill me.” He gets behind the chair and pushes me to the elevator leaving Adams and Yasuda behind.

“Congratulations Dr. DeLuca!” Yasuda yells out and I respond with a thumbs up as the elevator doors close.

Next Part Here

[fairysylveon]

got this au bouncing around in my head where tim, directionless and paradoxically missing jack something fierce, breaks into atlas to steal the jack AI and has some seedy back alley surgeon install the echo eye

(to be CLEAR tim still also hates jack. but now that he's not fighting for his life in the casino, the void where jack once was feels unbearable)

[silver138]

Perfectly Flawed - Chapter 25

word count - 1.5k warnings - cursing, canon typical violence, sexual assault references, guns & shooting, needle mention, referenced bullying Summary: Spencer and Lina come face-to-face with the unsub.

"Now, why would people be trying to call you, Roxy?" the unsub says, picking up the cell phone and waving it tauntingly in her face.

Moving my eyes to look in the direction of Roxy, I see she's on her knees with her hands tied behind her back. Eye makeup and tears run down her face, and her hair is completely disheveled. She shakes her head, and I can see she has a rapidly purpling bruise on her cheek.  

"I-I don't kn-know!" she sobs.

"Aw, c'mon Roxy, you used to be so much better at lying!" the unsub says, and they walk closer to her, the gun still pointed in my direction. A hand streaks through the air and strikes Roxy in the mouth, her head jerking back from the impact.

As Roxy cries, the unsub turns, and Spencer and I can see them for the first time. She's of average height and build, with green eyes that are full of fury and mousy-brown hair pulled back. 

As Roxy weeps, the unsub rolls her eyes, her aim never wavering, and she says, "Oh my God, Roxy, this is nothing compared to the torture you put me through. What, you don't remember me?"

Roxy slowly shakes her head, and the unsub laughs cruelly, then says, "You really don't remember me? You made my life a living hell for years, and you don't remember me? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you were an absolute bitch to everyone in school, guess it's hard to keep track of casualties. You were even one to Lucas. Oh, poor, sweet Lucas. Tell me, who did you drop him for again?"

"N-Nathan, Nathan Garnett, w-why?" Roxy says, looking up at the unsub.

"I wonder whatever happened to him?" the unsub says, faux innocently.

"W-we got married, why?" Roxy said, voice gaining a slight edge.

"Tell me," the unsub says, turning to hover over Roxy as she keeps the gun trained on me. "Does he still have that limp, or were the surgeons able to fix that?"

"H-he...why are you asking?" Roxy says, confusion clear on her face.

"Did he ever tell you how he got hurt?" the unsub says, gleeful malice glinting in her eyes.

"Y-yeah, it was during a football-" Roxy starts, and the unsub smacks her so hard, that Roxy tips over, and the unsub hauls her back to her kneeling position.

"NO! He got hurt because he tried to rape me, Roxy! I had to kick his knee out of place to get away from him! And you know damn well I wasn't the only one! That's why you're in the process of divorcing him now, isn't it? You found out about his little 'past time'!" the unsub screams at Roxy.

Roxy just starts sobbing and wheezing out apologies, as the unsub gains the look of cruel satisfaction on her face.

During the back and forth between Roxy and the unsub, Spencer's slowly been inching closer to get a better shot to incapacitate the armed woman, but she quickly turns to look at him and shakes her gun, saying, "Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Just stay there, or I'll shoot your little lady friend's head clean off, and I only plan on painting this alley with one person's brains." She turns her head back to Roxy, giving her a wicked smile.

"B-but, you haven't killed anyone yet, you could get a lighter sentence if there are no deaths!" I say without thinking.

The unsub hums and says, "Y'know, I still haven't decided if I'm ok with going to jail, or if I should just off myself after I put this bitch in the ground. My only regret would be I wasn't able to put a bullet between the eyes of good ol' Nate."

"H-hey, just, wait, ok? You said she made your life hell? Do you think you're the only one who was ever bullied in school?" I say shakily.

The unsub snorts and says, "Of course not, most of my friends were bullied by her and her friends. You could consider this a...public service for all the bullied kids. A little bit of good old-fashioned vengeance!"

"But what happens after that? You have to know that you'll be caught, right?" I say.

"Probably, but like I said, I might just shoot myself after," she says with a slightly maniacal grin.

"But you don't have to! If you just...don't kill her, you could probably get less time! Maybe get therapy? You know, therapy really does help..." I say, and I'm cut off by a bitter laugh from her.

"Do you know what I was called all through school because of her? And I mean all of school, from kindergarten till we graduated? Daffy. Daffy Daphne. She used to make all sorts of jokes, that I was crazy, that I was stupid." The unsub says, her gun starting to shake.

"But that's not all she did. No, a nickname wasn't enough, huh? Weekly beatings in middle school. Stealing my clothes after gym in high school. Do you remember the time you tried to run me over with your car? You got away with it because you said 'your brakes failed'. You know, I wish they had, then your ass would have gotten flung into traffic."

Roxy looks at her and says, "Wait...Daphne? Daphne Truman?"

Daphne cackles wildly and says, "Oh, now she remembers me! And now, you'll never forget me!" then swings the gun to point right in Roxy's face. 

"W-wait! Daphne, I'm so, so sorry. I was horrible to you in school, it's true. I...I don't know why I did it, but I'm really, really sorry. Hey, if-if you just let me go, I'll forget all about this, I won't press charges or anything, I swear!" Roxy says, trying to smile at Daphne.

Daphne just looks at her blankly and says, "You can't press charges if you're dead, either."

Roxy goes white at that and starts shaking. Trying to keep her attention on me, I say, "Daphne, I've been bullied too, y'know? I've been called names, made fun of, and hit. But you know what's also happened? I've graduated, gone to college, I've moved. You can get past this and live your life, but not if you shoot her."

Daphne stops, sighs, steps away from Roxy, then says, "Y'know, you're a massive pain in my ass right now, and it's really bringing down my mood. I think I'll practice my aim on you and your little boyfriend here..."

As she aims her gun at Spencer, I panic, tackling him out of the way of the bullet, and I flinch as I hear a gunshot. I look at Spencer, and breathe out, "I'm sorry! Are you ok? You didn't get shot, right?"

He shakes his head, and I look up, expecting Daphne to be looming over us, ready to shoot again, but she's dropped to her knees, clutching her arm. Derek swiftly comes up behind her, kicks her gun away, and proceeds to restrain her.

"Derek!" I cry, getting up from the grimy alley, and helping Spencer up.

"That was some good timing there, Morgan," Spencer says, holstering his gun and heading over to carefully pick up the one Daphne had.

"Yeah! I thought you were checking out the duffle bag that was found?" I ask, moving out of the way as Spencer releases Roxy from her bindings and helps her up.

"After we checked it out, we figured it was a little too convenient it was found right as we were heading to interview Ms. Waters, so we came over here. I thought you guys saw me, that was why you kept talking to the unsub, to keep her distracted until I could get a decent line on her." Derek says, handing Daphne off to the police that showed up shortly after he did.

"No! I-I guess I was trying to talk her down and keep her from hurting anyone, but it didn't work..." I said, leaning against the wall to stay out of everyone's way as they hustled around, grabbing evidence and cleaning up.

"It worked long enough for backup to arrive, and sometimes, that can be the best outcome," Spencer says, leading me out of the alley.

I grimace, fidgeting with my purse and saying, "I-I'm sorry if I hurt you, Spencer. I panicked and I wanted to make sure you didn't get shot. Did you see Derek before he disarmed her?"

He gives me a soft smile and nods, saying, "Yeah. Honestly, I thought you did, too, and that was why you kept engaging with her, to get her to make a mistake."

I shook my head, and he said, "Well, thank you for that. And for trying to get me out of the way of a bullet."

"Y-yeah, no problem, Doc," I say, giving him a shaky smile as we head to the car.

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[circusgoth-dotcom]

The Girl Who Chased Bugs

Ship: Aniol West & GraveRobber (platonic), Aniol West & Shilo Wallace (platonic)

Word Count: 1397

Summary: Wow, I did not mean for this to get this long but I don't really know how to split it up so bear with me. Aniol and GraveRobber have a chat when they are interrupted by a familiar face. Also this isn't necessarily canon to my ship timeline I just wanted to write Aniol and Shilo interacting. CWs for canon-typical themes, let me know if there's anything else that needs a warning, I'm tired and can't tell. (genuine)

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife

On the shadiest streets in the city, people like the GraveRobber dwelled. Illegal Zydrate dealers and Zydrate addicts, those just trying to get by and those looking to make a quick buck… there was no “middle class,” there hadn’t been one for a long time. There was the bottom of the beer barrel and the corked top of a bottle of champagne. Aniol was about the only person who existed and flowed between that high and low. He whistled a tune that connected him with the GraveRobber as he walked, drawing the eyes of the prostitutes on the corner and their potential customers. It didn’t take long for the pale man with colourful streaks in his greasy hair to materialise out of the darkness, whistling along with Aniol as he took up stride at their side.

“What’s new with you?” He asked as the tune came to an end.

“I was wondering if I could interest you in a job,” Aniol hummed.

“In addition to what I already do?”

“Never mind the Zydrate business, I want to put you in a film.”

GraveRobber slowed to a halt while Aniol managed a few more steps forward before turning to face him.

“I don’t know, pretty bird. Don’t you think that’s a bit risky, putting my mug on the big screen? You’re not trying to put me out of business, are you?”

Aniol stepped toward him, taking his angular face in their hands and examining his features closely. “A little make-up and prosthetics and you’ll be unrecognizable. I promise you, my artists are just as good as surgeons, and of course they’re under a contract that says they can’t say shit about dick unless I say so, so you wouldn’t have to worry about your identity getting out beyond the dressing room.”

The GraveRobber considered this for a moment before the two of them were distracted by the sound of a can bouncing off of the curb. A girl standing anxiously under a streetlight gasped and stepped back, obviously not wanting to be seen.

“What’s a girl like you doing out at this time of night?” Aniol called across the alley.

“Kid? Is that you?” GraveRobber added, curiously familiar. The girl hesitantly skipped across the road to join them.

“I'm sorry, I-I promise I wasn't stalking you, I was following a bug…” She looked around, “I’ve lost it, now…”

“You know this young thing?” Aniol asked, his expression slightly concerned. He lowered his voice, “She's not a customer, is she?”

“No! This is… well, I never did catch your name. But it’s kind of funny… you were chasing a bug the first time we met.”

The girl smiled coyly. “That’s right…” her brow then furrowed. “But you also got me caught.”

“I understand that you aren’t supposed to be out either way, so I’d prefer if you thought of it as me doing you a favour, kid.”

“My name is Shilo.”

Recognition flashed on Aniol’s face, and he could see that it made her nervous. “GraveRobber’s right, you shouldn’t be out.” He crossed his arms. “You’re clearly young and inexperienced, for one. This city’ll eat you alive if you’re not careful.”

She pulled her bag closer to her side, a determined look on her face. “Who’re you to say I’m inexperienced? I’m seventeen, I’m practically an adult.”

“And yet you’re sneaking around like you’re twelve,” GraveRobber quipped, making her face turn pink with embarrassment.

Aniol moved to whisper in his ear, “This is one of my friends’ kids.”

Surprise captured him and he huddled with Aniol in an attempt to talk more privately. “Really?? How do you know?”

“I’ve never seen a picture of her, but how many Shilos do you meet on a given day? She already reminds me of him, too.”

“What are you two murmuring about over there?” Shilo asked. The GraveRobber popped his head up.

“Nothing. Just discussing who should take you home.” He shoved Aniol forward. “How about my friend, here?”

“What? No, I don’t want to go home yet!” She frowned at Aniol. “And don’t I know you from somewhere…?”

It was Aniol’s turn to blush. “I assure you, you don’t,” he answered firmly. Not like my face has been in magazines and on posters and billboards, my trailers on public television screens…

“So you’re saying this complete stranger should take me home?? Doesn’t that seem a little against your ‘protect the child’ M.O.?”

“Yes, well, I trust Aniol very much--”

“Robber.”

“Aniol… oh my God, you’re Aniol West!” Shilo pointed at him while his flush crept into his ears.

“And you are not nearly old enough to be watching my movies.”

“Well I’ve never seen any of them… I just recognized you from one of my magazines. You know Blind Mag?”

Aniol sighed while his friend looked very bemused. “It’s none of your business, kid--”

“Of course he knows Mag,” GraveRobber butt in theatrically, “all good artists know each other.”

This made Shilo’s eyes sparkle. “Can you get me her autograph?”

Aniol frowned. This was far too complicated for his liking, knowing the history interwoven between Nathan, Mag, Marni, and Shilo, though Shilo didn’t know it. He spoke very deliberately, “If you promise me there will be no fuss in going home tonight, I’ll think about it.”

She thought hard about it before nodding in agreement. “Deal. But you have to walk me, and you have to tell me all about being a director.”

GraveRobber snickered at Aniol’s reluctant expression.

“Fine…” He glared at his friend. You ass… and you don’t know the half of it! “GraveRobber, turn around and plug your ears.”

“Why…?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine, fine,” the GraveRobber did as he was told while Aniol stepped closer to Shilo.

“A final condition, your father absolutely cannot see me.”

“Huh??”

“Trust me. I walk you to your house, and then I’m gone. Just be prepared to get inside as quickly as physically possible.”

“Okay…” Shilo studied him for a moment. He wished he knew what she was thinking. He tapped the GraveRobber on the shoulder.

“You can take your hands off your ears, now.”

He turned back to them. “All settled, then?”

“Yes, I’m taking Shilo back home right now. Don’t think you’ve escaped my film proposition, however, I will be finding you again later.”

“You want to put him in a movie??” Shilo asked, giggling.

“What, you don’t think I have the chops?” GraveRobber asked in a jokingly aggressive manner. She continued to laugh, doubling over slightly. It warmed something in his cold, black, Zydrate-slinging heart. Aniol checked his watch.

“C'mon, Shilo. Ciao, Robber.” He pat the GraveRobber's cheek affectionately. He took his hand and kissed their fingers.

“Until I hear your siren’s song once more, Aniol.”

Aniol smiled, then began leading the way out of the alley.

“How do you know where you're going??” Shilo asked, jogging to catch up with him.

“I thought we agreed we would only talk about my career?”

“Yeah, but you're acting weird. And like, a different sort of weird from… what did you call him?” She gestured back down the alley. The GraveRobber had disappeared.

“Robber. Short for GraveRobber. I don't think he remembers his first name. Shilo, there's a lot you don't know… about everything. At this point, I don't think staying inside or sneaking out can help you.”

She was quiet as they walked along the dirty road, their faces lit in a flurry of neons as they passed by signage and under streetlamps. “You know my dad, don't you?” She eventually asked. “How? Were you a patient of his?”

“I won't tell you these things,” Aniol insisted, turning the corner. “Now, either ask me something about movies or please, be quiet.”

Eventually, she did begin asking about Aniol's work, which he patiently explained each process of, from writing to casting to actually filming something. Soon, they appeared at the back end of Shilo and Nathan's home.

“Can you climb the fence?” Aniol asked. Shilo nodded.

“Of course I can, I've been doing this since I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen?!”

“Shhh!!”

“Shilo…” Aniol’s tone was distinctly parental as she began the climb. She looked down at him as she scrabbled up onto her balcony. They shared a long gaze before she slipped inside and drew her curtains. Aniol exhaled and made his way back to his own home. Oh, Nathan…