#and i have a dentist appointment tomorrow which is fine. but is just another thing that fucks with my routine

[b-blushes]

let me be a hater for a second. every stupid day at the moment i'm taking background stupid psychic damage from 2 stupid life things:

i need to take some returns to the post office but my uhhh disability-limited 'leaving the house once per week unless i want to get So Sick™' quota has been full for as long as i remember (like i never have any 'free' time i'm always recovering or resting to be able to do the next thing for months and months and months and months and years) and i gotta go to the dr tomorrow (on a saturday!!) and be well enough to go to the dentist in the middle of next week so it's gonna be at LEAST another week at the latest (if i can squeeze it in between the hospital appointment i have the week after which my dad is taking me to so i don't have to drive) and these packages are HAUNTING ME. and it's really hard to ask my parents to take it for me bc the post office is licherally 5 minutes away. it's fine i'll figure it out i'll probably just take them next week if i'm not too sick from the dentist but ARGH.

recycling here SUCKS and once again due to the 'hey uhhh ~extravagant~ activities such as going out are illegal for you btw unless they're super rationed due to the Disabilities' quota i have been collecting 'recycle with bags at the supermarket' plastics in my car boot for literal months because i can't *go* to the supermarket to do my shopping i have to get it delivered because i am physically unable to do a weekly shop. and because i can't get to the supermarket i can't take my stupid recycling that has to go to a special place!!!!!!!!! MY CAR IS FULL! and i am dreading the time when i actually do figure out being able to go because 1) supermarket 2) i have no joke a full trolley's worth of recycling by now which is weird as hell (luckily you're allowed to be weird but still) so i will have to roll up like Plastics Georg and 3) the recycling place moves within the store so i have to ask the security guard where the hell i am going. and 4) i'm a hater of the whole situation.

sorry for my absolutely rancid vibes i am being tormented by being so sick forever. BUT we stay silly :3

[helplessly-nonstop]

Laughing Gas Confession (L. Hemmings imagine)

I’ve been working on this fix for quite some time but since Luke decided to realize a new album, I finally managed to gain motivation to finish this fic! Anyway reader gets their wisdom teeth pulled and this is the results! Tagging my girlie @wrestlingfae

WC: 2352

-

Wisdom teeth. The bane of any person’s existence if they ever had the displeasure of them coming in. Truly the only thing a person could ever gain from them coming in might be the humerus videos you capture while on laughing gas. My experience however? A little less humorous and a lot more exposing.

“Come on, you’re being a baby about this, just go to the dentist and let them pull the wisdom teeth, you’ll feel much better!” Luke insisted as he shut the door behind us. I groaned as he continued to pester me about setting up a dentist appointment to remove the nightmares pressing against my jaw.

“Luke, I have no one to bring me home! They’re going to use laughing gas and I can’t drive while high.” I retorted, beginning to put away the groceries, only to press my fingers against the hinge of my jaw as the ache began to grow more painful. He stared at me with a disbelieving look then he exclaimed, “I’m off tour, I can take you! I mean, we’re best friends, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Take each other to the dentist, make sure you don’t ruin the Uber driver’s car flooring with vomit.”

“Okay, that was one time! That’s what you get for giving me Chipotle while I’m hammered. I mean, technically, me puking on that guy’s floor was your fault for letting me drink with Cal. You know he always encourages me to do bad things.” I insisted, handing him the milk to put away. He sighed, clearly realizing that I had won that point, and returned to our current argument, “Just let me take you. I swear, I won’t record you. I’ll just make sure you get there and back, safe and sound. Okay?”

We stared at one another for a while before I sighed, muttering, “Alright, fine, just make sure that I get there and back without breaking a bone.” His blue eyes sparkled at my agreement before he kissed me on my forehead then launched into making dinner as I dug through the freezer in search of an ice pack to press against my jaw. At least I’d finally get rid of these stupid wisdom teeth.

My appointment was set for tomorrow and dread was beginning to set in. Laughing gas loosened your lips and things that should remain a secret had the chance of slipping out. I was sitting on my bed, considering other options to pull my wisdom teeth without using laughing gas but ultimately came up empty. Unfortunately it seemed that this was the only way. Of course, I could have asked any of the other guys to take me to the dentist, but I feared that would hurt Luke. I just hoped that I could keep my secret locked away from even the grasps of the laughing gas..

“Today’s the day,” Luke crowed, bursting into my room, “C’mon, it’s time to take out those nasty wisdom teeth of yours!” I groaned and ducked my head beneath my pillow once again as I grumbled, “Why? Why did it have to be me to be cursed with a morning person as a best friend?” He flopped on my bed then lifted my pillow away from my face as he replied, “Balances out your night owl habits. Now come on, I bet you’re dying to get those bastards pulled.”

“It’s like you’re excited to see me suffer through recovery. Sadistic fuck. Alright, go, I’m getting dressed.” I muttered, shoving him off my bed. He groaned as he hit the floor then gave a small wave as he shut my bedroom door behind him, leaving me alone for the time being. I quickly changed and stared at the clock as I began to process what could happen.

Today was the day that I would risk the chance of exposing my love for my best friend of many years. What would I even do if I let it slip? Would he hate me? Would he reject me? Would he feel the same? So many thoughts raced through my head that I didn’t even notice that Luke had reentered, holding a hairbrush out to me. He cleared his throat and I glanced up with a sheepish smile then accepted the brush as he asked, “You need your shoes?” I looked around my room briefly and pointed to the stray pair of sneakers hiding beside my dresser before finishing brushing my hair.

He handed me my shoes and ran a hand through my hair as he assured me, “There’s nothing to worry about. They’re gonna take good care of you.” I smiled up at him and quickly pulled on my shoes before heading out the front door, sighing at the Los Angeles heat. We settled into the car and I stared out the window with a small sigh, prepared to finally get my teeth pulled.

“Hey you’re gonna be okay, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been to this dentist before, they’re really good.” Luke assured me, patting my hand. I smiled briefly then stared out the window, knowing damn good and well whether the dentist was good or not was at the bottom of my worry list for today.

We arrived at the dentist in fifteen minutes and I savored the knowledge that we wouldn’t be together while I’m high on laughing gas for too long. He guided me inside and I spoke to the nurse running the front desk while Luke investigated the assortment of pamphlets that were splayed across their wall. Settling back beside him, I gripped the arms of the chair, terror beginning to set in. What would happen as soon as I exited the exam room? Would I expose the truth? Could I prevent a secret from spilling out?

Long fingers slid over the top of my hand and I jerked out of my panic as Luke gave a tight squeeze. He smiled and assured me,”Hey it’s okay! I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?” Just a few words and my heart began to settle. The nurse entered the waiting area then glanced up from his clipboard, calling my name. My best friend waved a hand towards the exam area then chirped, “A new life awaits you. One without pain.”

The words echoed in my head as I settled in the chair and the dentist coached me through how to breathe in the laughing gas before a haze settled over my thoughts. The operation was a quick procedure and the pressure of them removing the four monsters that evolution cursed us with was nothing compared to the relief I felt.

The nurse was kind enough to help Luke with guiding me to the car and I pressed my cheek against the cool glass of the window, poking my cheek to feel the gauze stuffed in my mouth. He swatted my hand away and chided, “Don’t do that, you’ll make it hurt worse later.” I pouted at his warning then mumbled,”You’re no fun, Luke. Why you gotta be a buzzkill?” He chuckled at my whining and ruffled my hair as he replied, “I’m not being a buzzkill, I’m saving you from yourself.”

We managed to go through the drive through without another incident of me being a disaster, which I’m sure he was thankful for. He tugged me out of the car and urged, “Come on, let’s get you inside, silly.”

“You know, I love you so fucking much, Lukey. Like holy shit.” I mumbled, leaning into his chest. He laughed as he guided me into the living room then replied, “I love you too. We should really get you laid down before you pass out on me. Doctor said by the time you got home, you’ll be about ready to sleep.” I smiled softly at him as I landed on the couch and insisted, “No, not- not like a best friend loves their best friend. I love you like a boyfriend and girlfriend love each other.”

His eyes widened at the statement then I began to lay down on the couch as I mumbled, “Prolly shouldn’t have said that but ya know how it is. Easy goes the truth you want most exposed. The subconscious is a strange place, Luke.” He gave a shallow nod and turned out of the living room then returned with a blanket, draping it over me as my eyes began to close. Long fingers brushed my cheek briefly then I heard him murmur something to me, but the pain medicine was beginning to settle in.

When I finally came to, I was still curled up on the couch, with a blanket curled around my shoulders and a pillow clutched to my cheek. Glancing around, I realized that Luke had disappeared from the living room, leaving me to nap by myself. I groaned, pressing a tender hand to my jaw, then mumbled, “Ah fuck, right. Wisdom teeth are gone.” I pushed off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom so I could pull the bloody gauze from my mouth. I moved my bottom jaw briefly, only to regret the decision as pain struck. I groaned and clenched my eyes closed, hoping that the agony would settle down.

“Hey, you’re up. You want something to eat? I made soup.” Luke asked, leaning against the bathroom doorway. I turned at the sound of his voice and questioned, “How long was I out?” He hummed at the question, glancing down at his phone screen as it chimed, then replied, “About four hours. Not a bad nap. Come on, let’s get some food for you.”

As the week progressed, I noticed Luke had become distant. He moved away when I leaned against him, particularly when he was texting which was never an issue in our friendship. We often flocked to one another when we were chatting with friends and even potential love interests so it was strange for him to shy away.

When I entered a room, he would leave just seconds later, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of standing in the same area as me. What had happened when my wisdom teeth were pulled? Had my behavior while dealing with the pain really drove my best friend away? Or worse, did I tell him my biggest secret while I was under the influence of laughing gas and pain medicine? And if so, how long would our friendship last?

I allowed his strange behavior to continue unquestioned for another week, hoping that it was a mere coincidence that he was acting so strange so soon after my wisdom teeth surgery. But I finally caved on demanding what his problem was when I tried to hug him, only for him to sidestep me.

“Was there- did I do something wrong? Because if I did, I’d really like to know what’s causing you to act like this towards me.” I asked, stepping forward to try and meet his eyes. He turned on his heel and ran a hand through his hair before he grumbled, “So that’s why you didn’t want me to take you to the dentist. Because you were afraid of telling me the truth while you were under?” I raised an eyebrow at him and began to ask what he meant, only to pause when his words sank in.

“Oh my god, I didn’t. Please tell me that I did not say what I think you’re saying that I said.” I rushed out, not caring if it had made any sense. He flickered his gaze up to me then he snapped, “How long? How long have you been hiding the fact that you’re in love with me?”

“I’m kind of hoping that’s an optional question to answer.” I admitted, twisting my fingers together. He whipped to face me and shouted, “Goddammit, this isn’t a fucking joke to me, so quit deflecting and tell me what I want to know!” I flinched back at his anger then demanded, “Why are you so pissed that I didn’t tell you that I’m in love with you? I have a right to hide things, Luke! It’s not like you feel- never mind, just let me take my medicine.”

He stepped in front of me and held a hand up as he said simply, “Finish what you were going to say. You know me so well, tell me what you were going to say.” I glanced up at him then murmured, “It’s not like you feel the same anyway.”

“But how would you know that? You’re dismissing me before you even give me the chance to tell you how I even feel! You think I’d take just someone to the dentist? I mean- fuck! I wish you’d just let me tell you how I actually feel instead of acting like I wouldn’t give you a second of my time. I’m in love with you, dammit!” he shouted, chest heaving. My jaw dropped as we stared at one another, silence settling over our living room, then he drew in a deep breath, hissing,”I wasn’t going to confess like this. You just riled me up so fast, dammit.”

“You're in love with me?” I croaked out, surprise taking over my anger. He drew in a deep breath, as if he was preparing to give a giant speech, then he whispered, “I’ve been in love with you since high school. I just thought that you only wanted to be friends.” I cupped his face and he leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine then I mumbled, “I thought I never stood a chance. That’s why I never made a move. I was terrified of what would happen if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Two halves of a whole idiot on the same thing, I guess.” he replied, giving a small smile. I giggled and asked, “Would my other half give me a kiss then?” He gave me a gentle kiss then assured me, “The second that you’re all healed up, I’m going to kiss you so fucking hard.”

“You better keep that promise, pretty boy.”

[honey-dewey]

When I’m Older and I’m Wiser

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Dentist Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: General medical fic involving dentistry and recovering from wisdom tooth surgery. Mentions of pills, blood, needles, and Marcus being very high. Some use of (F/N) (L/N), but not much.

How the hell Marcus Moreno has gotten this far in his life without getting his wisdom teeth removed is beyond you. But that fateful day comes, and honestly you really should just quit being the Heroic’s dentist because it’s probably taking years off your life. Mostly because your current patient is very cute, very high, and in your care for the next 24 hours, which is a dangerous combination.

“Ow.” 

Missy looked over from where she’d been getting a second glass of milk, turning her attention to her dad. Marcus was staring at the eggs on his plate, seemingly frozen. The look on his face could only be described as offended, as if the eggs had just bit him back. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting back down and nudging Marcus with her foot. 

“Hurts,” Marcus mumbled, putting a hand to his cheek. The last thing he had expected was pain upon eating scrambled eggs, but it was there. 

Missy shrugged, digging into her own eggs. “Could it be a cavity?” 

Marcus shook his head, moving his hand to his other cheek. “Both sides.” 

“Two cavities?” 

Giving Missy a playful dirty look, Marcus took another bite of eggs, face scrunching when the pain persisted. 

Missy raised an eyebrow, and Marcus suddenly regretted having a tiny powerhouse of a daughter. “When was the last time you saw Dr. (L/N)?”

“Uh,” Marcus squirmed a bit under her judgmental gaze, thinking back. “I made an appointment right before your mother passed, but then she died and we were in mourning, and then I quit actively hero-ing full time, and then I took a while off to raise you, and then I started my new job, and then I was kidnapped by aliens, so I dunno. A few years?” 

“A few years?” Missy said, cocking her head slightly. “You make me go every six months!” 

“You’re still growing!” Marcus defended. “I’d be an awful parent if I didn’t keep up with your health.” 

Missy sighed. “Please tell me you’ve seen an actual doctor recently.” 

Marcus nodded. “Saw my GP last month.” 

“Good,” Missy said. “Can you see Dr. (L/N) today please?” 

Again, Marcus nodded. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder just who’s running this household.” 

“It’s me.” 

“I know kiddo. I know.”

Their drive to Heroic headquarters was silent, but comfortable, as it usually was. Marcus parked, the throbbing in his jaw just getting worse as he and Missy got on the bus into headquarters. Missy broke off in the reception area, heading down the hall with a wave. Marcus waved back, smiling at her as she disappeared. 

Wiping his hands on his shirt, Marcus walked up to the receptionist, who gave him a friendly smile. “Hello Marcus, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey Rhea,” Marcus said, leaning slightly on the counter. “When’s my first meeting?” 

Rhea hummed, putting his name into the computer and clicking a few times. “Looks like your earliest meeting is at 2:30.” 

“Awesome,” Marcus groaned. “Does Dr. (L/N) have any available appointments in the morning?” 

“Has someone been skipping out on the dentist?” Rhea said jokingly, moving to a different computer screen. “Was it Missy who made you go?” 

“Yeah.” 

Rhea laughed. “That kid,” she said softly. “And you’re in luck. Dr. (L/N) has an available appointment in half an hour, at nine. I’ll get you set up with it, okay?” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah, that works. Thank you Rhea. I’ll see you later.” 

He waited for his appointment in the hero lounge, reading a book and chewing absently on his thumb nail. When his watch read ten 'til nine, he put his book in his bag and began to make his way down to the medical wing of the building. 

The medical wing was not one Marcus was in frequently. He knew some of the staff, but not all of them. But he waved to them all the same, eventually reaching the dentist’s section with five minutes to spare. 

“Mr. Moreno!” The nurse behind the reception counter said cheerily. “I thought it had to be a mistake when I saw you had an appointment.” 

“Please,” Marcus said. “Just Marcus will do.” 

The nurse nodded. “Of course. The doctor will be right out. You’re her first of the day, and honestly, I think she thought your name was a typo too. It’s been too long.” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah. Missy chewed me out about that earlier.” 

“I’ll bet.” The nurse gestured to a row of chairs. “Take a seat. I’ll go see if the doc is ready.” 

Marcus sat down, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs in an effort to calm his nerves. 

“Moreno?” 

He looked up, heart suddenly beating fast. Standing in the doorway that separated the waiting room from the actual office was Dr. (L/N), looking very expectant and a tiny bit disappointed. 

———

Marcus stood, following you back into the office. His steps behind you were nervous, a high contrast to the confident clicking of your shoes. 

“Long time no see,” you said, pushing open a door and gesturing Marcus into the exam room. “What finally brought you back?” 

“Aside from Missy?” Marcus asked, sitting in the chair and rocking his left foot back and forth on the ankle. “I woke up this morning and it hurt to eat breakfast.” 

You nodded, washing your hands and donning a pair of gloves. “And there wasn’t any pain last night?” 

“Maybe a tiny bit.” Marcus watched you sit on a rolling stool, moving so you were just at his side. “But nothing I was worried about.” 

You crossed your legs, thinking. “Did you do any intense training in the past 24 hours?”

“Nothing involving my head.” 

“Well then it’s probably just a cavity or two,” you decided, rolling closer to Marcus’s head and putting both feet on the floor. “Let’s take a look, get some x-rays, and see if we can’t have you feeling better soon.” 

You adjusted the chair so Marcus was staring up at the ceiling, and at a large space mobile you’d hung ages ago. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

You smiled, pulling a mask up over your nose. “Relax Marcus. I’m not gonna hurt you on purpose.” 

Marcus still squirmed a bit as you examined his mouth, your brows knitting tighter and tighter as you realized this wasn’t a simple case of a few cavities. 

“Marcus,” you said slowly, sitting him up and tugging your mask down under your chin. “You’re in your forties, right?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please tell me you don’t still have your wisdom teeth.” 

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. Why? Is that a bad thing?” 

“Most people have theirs removed when they’re teenagers,” you explained, pulling down the x-ray machine. “That way, there’s less risk of nerve damage. It’s not a bad thing to have them removed later in life, but it does come with higher risks.” 

“Oh.” The reassurance didn’t comfort Marcus much as you softly directed him through the various x-rays. 

You pulled the piece of plastic out of his mouth as the final x-ray hit your computer. “Sorry about that,” you said, watching Marcus rub his face. “I know it sucks. But, good news, I have an answer for you.” 

You let Marcus turn so he was facing your computer. “It’s definitely your wisdom teeth,” you said, tugging your gloves off and pointing at the computer screen. “See? All four of them are coming in, which is impressive. I can probably take them out tomorrow, honestly. Those suckers can get really painful really fast, so we’re gonna want to take care of it as soon as possible.” 

Marcus paled. “Tomorrow?” 

“That would be best.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I do one of these surgeries like, once a month. I know what I’m doing, and you’re going to be just fine.” 

“Okay,” Marcus said, nodding and staring at you. “I believe you.” 

You smiled. “Perfect. So I can schedule your surgery for super early tomorrow, I’m thinking around seven, maybe seven thirty. We wanna get it out of the way early because you can’t eat anything for twelve hours beforehand.” As you explained, you gathered some papers from a desk drawer. “I assume you want general anesthesia.” 

“Is that the option where I sleep through it all?” 

“Yep,” you said, stapling the papers together and handing them to Marcus. “As per protocol, we’re going to need reassurance you’ll be with a responsible adult guardian for at least forty eight, if not seventy two hours post surgery. The first twelve to twenty hour can be brutal, so you definitely want someone there during that.”

Marcus shook his head. “I haven’t got anyone besides my mom, who I assumed would be taking Missy while I healed.” 

“That’s okay,” you promised. “We can get someone here to care for you for two days. You’d have to stay here at headquarters, but you’d be comfortable and cared for. Whatever you do, I’ll call in some pain prescriptions and the like for you to pick up after work today. Just see the pharmacy out front and they’ll give the pills to you.” 

You stood, gesturing Marcus up. “So, to recap. Get here early tomorrow, no food after seven tonight, and wear comfy clothes. Most patients go with sweatpants, but you go with whatever is most comfortable to you. Bring a change of pyjamas and your prescriptions if you’re staying with us, and I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Moreno,” you said as you led him back to the lobby. 

Tomorrow came faster than anticipated, and before you knew it, it was seven AM and you were waiting for Marcus with your nurse beside you. 

“Damn his mouth is messed up,” the nurse mumbled, looking over the x-rays. “All four?” 

“All four,” you agreed, smiling as the lobby door opened. “Mr. Moreno! Follow me. I assume you stuck with the rules I gave you yesterday?” 

“Yeah,” Marcus said, handing you the paper bag with his prescriptions and a small drawstring bag that presumably had clothes in it. “I’m gonna be staying here.” 

“Perfect,” you said, pushing open the operating room door. “I see we’re dressed for the occasion.” 

Marcus turned red, looking down at his soft black sleep pants and a worn out Fleetwood Mac shirt. “Yeah.” 

You put Marcus’s stuff down on the counter, handing him a small white cup. “That is a super powerful mouthwash,” you explained. “Take it, and do try and keep it in your mouth for a minute. I know it tastes horrible.” 

Marcus did try, but he only made it to thirty seconds before he had to spit out the disgustingly bitter mouthwash. 

You laughed at his face, pulling on your gloves. “Alright Marcus, that works.” 

He smiled softly, relaxing a tiny bit. “Thanks.” 

“I wouldn’t thank anyone who made me take that stuff,” you said, grabbing a thin tube and holding it out. “That goes under your nose and over your ears, just like that,” you praised as Marcus threaded the tube over his ears. “Now, can I see your hand?” 

Marcus let you clip a heart rate monitor to his right index finger, watching as you walked to his other side and held up the final thing. “And last, but not least.” 

Immediately, Marcus looked extremely nervous again. You put down the IV line and rubbed his shoulder, trying to work away some of the tension. “Hey. Look at me. Just a pinch, and then you can take a nice long nap, okay? Deep breaths Marcus, deep breaths.” 

Marcus took a breath, and you carefully took your hand off his shoulder. You slowly directed his head onto the chair’s headrest, still murmuring reassurances. “That’s it. Count the stars on my mobile out loud. I can’t remember how many there are.” 

“Okay.” Marcus looked up, slowly counting out loud as you found his vein and stuck him with the IV line as quickly as you could. You administered some of the anesthesia, smiling as Marcus’s numbers began to slip and slide, until he wasn’t even counting as much as he was just mumbling out random mushy words. 

“Goodnight Marcus.” 

You gestured the nurse in, and she smiled, taking Marcus’s glasses and setting them on top of his other things. You finished off the anesthesia, watching Marcus’s eyes close. 

When he woke again, it was to you pulling the IV line out and taping a cotton ball to his arm. “Wa’s happ’nin’?” He slurred around the cotton and the drugs. 

“The surgery was a success,” you explained softly, despite Marcus not really understanding you. “All four teeth came out with no issue, and we’re about to take you to recovery. Oh, Marcus, keep your head up.” 

Marcus struggled to keep his head upright, and you giggled, holding your hands out. “C’mon. Let’s get you into a real bed.” 

You’d been through this with many patients before Marcus, but he seemed to be a stand-out, as you had some trouble getting him in the wheelchair and down the hallways into the recovery wing. He definitely fell under the ever entertaining category of ‘toddler high’ patients. His slurred words and puppy dog eyes made you laugh more than once on your way to his room. You actually had to stop and pause to laugh when he slurred out that he thought you were an Angel. He simply watched you with an exaggerated worried expression, half his words getting lost as he tried to mumble something out. 

“What was that Marcus?” You asked, wiping your eyes and continuing down the hall with him. 

“You’re tho prethy.” He said, head tipping down. 

“Head up,” you coaxed softly, smiling despite yourself. “Look, there’s your room.” 

Getting him in the room, which was more of a small, one person condo space, was thankfully the hardest part. But once you were in, he was very sleepy putty in your hands. 

“Okay Marcus,” you said gently, helping him out of the wheelchair and onto the couch, piling a few pillows beneath his head “Do you want anything before you go to sleep?” 

Marcus looked up at you. Between his cotton stuffed cheeks and his wide doe eyes, he looked a tiny bit ridiculous. You smiled, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick picture while he was still drugged as hell. “Marcus?” 

“Mittenth.” 

“What?” 

Marcus pointed to his bag. “Mittenth.” 

You walked over to the bag, opening it up and finding a black and white stuffed cat right on top. “Oh. Mittens.” 

You handed the cat to Marcus, who immediately snuggled it to his chest and rolled over a bit, falling asleep instantly. 

Again, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked so innocent like this, all curled up and sleeping. You hesitated to call him adorable, but if the shoe fit.

You sighed, picking up your phone and trailing into the single bedroom. Changing quickly into your leisure clothes, you texted one of the people at the pharmacy and requested a few ice packs and a wisdom tooth slushee. Both things were delivered in a matter of minutes, and you placed them securely in the small freezer to wait for Marcus. 

When he woke up, he was significantly less high. Looking around, Marcus poked his cheeks and made a face. “I can’t feel my nose.” 

“The entire bottom half of your face is numb,” you pointed out from your position at the two person table in the kitchen. “And believe me, you’re gonna want it to stay that way.” 

Marcus sat up, looking over at you. “I’m hungry.” 

“No solids for a while,” you told him, standing and grabbing his slushee. “But you can have this. And before you ask, yes you have to use the spoon.” 

Marcus pouted, but took the slushee. “But the cotton.” 

You nodded, settling on the couch next to him. “Open wide.” 

Marcus did, allowing you to shove two fingers into his mouth and fish out the cotton. “Still bleeding,” you mumbled to yourself. “We’ll shove more in there when you’re done. For now,” You tipped the slushee at him. “Eat up.” 

You turned your attention to the TV while Marcus ate slowly, taking tiny bites and occasionally sticking his tongue out. “It’s really numb.” 

“That’ll fade by tomorrow morning,” you promised. “At noon I want you to take your first pills. Then you get more at one.” 

Again, Marcus pouted, but simply sank lower into the couch cushions and mindlessly watched whatever was on TV. “Is my face swelling?” 

You shrugged. “No more than other patients. But yeah, just a bit.” 

“Do I look stupid?” 

The question made you laugh. “Marcus, I’ve had so many ridiculous patients. You’re no worse than some of my other ones, I promise.” 

Marcus accepted this and continued to take small bites of his slushee. “Why’s it gotta be blue?” 

“Because blue isn’t even remotely close to red.” You didn’t even look up as you answered. “Same goes for when little kids get teeth pulled. You want something that’s soft, easy to swallow, and isn’t the color of blood.” 

“Oh.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. How’s your mouth feeling?” 

Marcus mulled it over, eventually deciding on saying “Kinda achy.” 

“I’ll give you those pills soon,” you said. “It’s gonna be tricky, considering any kind of anything touching those holes in your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch.” 

“Even water?” 

“Even water.” 

Marcus groaned, and you shrugged. “Sorry. But you’re the one who waited until now to do this.” 

When Marcus finished his slushee, you grabbed a pill bottle off the kitchen counter, quickly glancing at the label and nodding. “Two of these,” you said, opening a cabinet and taking out a glass. “Come here.” 

Marcus trudged over, leaning heavily against the counter’s edge. You put the two round pills on the counter, along with the glass of water. “Best to do it quickly. And one at a time.”  

Picking up one of the pills, Marcus carefully put it on his tongue, taking the glass with a hesitant hand. He took a sip, swallowing quickly and audibly. “Can’t I use a straw?” 

“Yeah,” you said sarcastically. “If you want dry socket, go ahead.” 

“Do I want to know what that is?” 

“Nope.” You pushed the second pill towards Marcus. “Take that, then you can lay back down.” 

Marcus sighed, mirroring his previous action. However, instead of simply swallowing with a tight face, Marcus started, eyes filling with tears as he spit the water into the sink, the pill clattering against the metal. 

You immediately began to worry as Marcus cried. It wasn’t a small tear or two either. He was full on sobbing, gripping the edges of the sink so tight his knuckles went white. 

“Marcus,” you murmured, putting a hand on his arm. He looked up at you, and you put on your most comforting smile. “Hey, it’s okay.” You picked up a towel and slowly wiped the residual water off his face. “C’mere.” 

He collapsed into your arms, going limp and continuing to cry. You rubbed his back, heart tightening whenever he let out a whimper of “hurts.” 

“I know,” you said softly. “I know it hurts. But you have to take the pills.” 

“Can’t,” Marcus hiccuped, burying himself deeper into your sweater. 

“Marcus,” you said firmly, slowly untangling him from you. “I know it hurts. But you’ll be in more pain from not taking the pills. Please, for me?” 

He took a breath. “Can we watch TV afterwards?” 

You smiled. “Of course. I can give you ice for the swelling too.” 

Marcus nodded, looking into the sink. “Do I take that one?” 

“No,” you said, fishing a new pill out of the container. “It’s in the sink, I’m not gonna take that risk. Here.” 

Marcus stared at the unassuming white pill in his hand. “Which one is this?” 

“The acetaminophen.” 

“The what?” 

“Tylenol.” 

Marcus nodded, popping the pill into his mouth and quickly gulping down the water. This time, he avoided hitting his stitches and simply handed you the glass. “I’m not doing that again.” 

You took the glass, putting it in the sink. “You have more pills to take in an hour.” 

Marcus groaned. “TV?” 

“Of course,” you said, walking to the couch and smiling as Marcus fell onto it. “What do you wanna watch?” 

Marcus turned his red rimmed puppy dog eyes on you. “Say Yes to the Dress?” 

You laughed. “Are you serious? We can, but that’s not what I expected at all.” 

“I like trash TV when I feel terrible.” Marcus grabbed Mittens and cuddled the stuffed cat to his chest. 

You found the show, setting it up and standing. “More cotton. You're probably still bleeding, and we definitely don’t want that. Open.” 

It took some finessing to get two more wads of cotton into Marcus’s mouth, but you succeeded, despite his complaints of feeling like a cartoon chipmunk. 

 “I’m gonna go start on dinner,” you said.  “Are you gonna be okay here?” 

Marcus pouted. “Do you have to start now?” 

“Yeah.” You gestured to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll only be gone for twenty minutes. Soup just needs to sit for a while.” 

Slightly consoled, Marcus zoned out at the TV while you got to work making a simple chicken noodle soup. 

“Done,” you said, wiping your hands and walking back to the couch twenty minutes later. “Marcus, are you still awake?” 

Marcus grumbled, holding his hands out. “C’mere.” 

You passed him an ice pack, and he made a face. “Not what I want.” 

“What do you want?” 

As if somehow knowing they were your kryptonite, Marcus gave you his puppy dog eyes. “Wanna hold you.” 

You sighed, but crawled into his arms anyway. When you finally settled, he was on his back, head and neck propped up on the arm of the couch, and you were on your side between the back of the couch and Marcus. He was warm, wrapping one arm loosely over your waist and using the other hand to press the ice into his cheek. 

You quickly slid into a nice comfortable headspace, occasionally smiling when Marcus commented on the wedding dresses on screen. 

“You dropped Mittens,” you realized after a while, shuffling to grab the discarded toy from the floor. 

Marcus took Mittens, gently placing the cat on his chest, so that it was secure on his sternum. 

“Does Mittens belong to Missy?” 

“Belonged to Clara.” 

“Oh.” You saw the change in demeanor, noticed how Marcus’s face steeled when he said her name. He rarely talked about Clara, especially at work. “I’m-“ 

“Nah,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “It’s the past. I’m happy now, and so is Mittens.” 

You nestled deeper into his chest. “Happy right now?” 

“Definitely happy right now,” Marcus said softly. “Very happy, even though I can’t feel my face.” 

“Even if you could,” you mumbled, knowing where this was headed. “You can’t kiss anyone for a while.” 

Marcus grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to wait then, won’t we?” 

You mirrored his mischievous smile. “You can’t kiss,” you said, scooting upwards, until you were laying on top of Marcus, your belly on his ribs. “But I can.” 

You lay gentle kisses across his cheeks, smiling when he laughed at your insistence upon kissing his nose. His cheeks were cold from the ice and tender from the swelling, but Marcus never tried to stop you, so you continued downwards, kissing the pulse points on his neck. 

“You’re a damn tease,”  Marcus huffed. 

You simply smiled into his skin and tugged the collar of his shirt down, pressing firm kisses into the points of his collarbones.

“Hey,” Marcus nudged your head. “Can we finish this when I don’t have a mouth of stitches? I still can’t feel my tongue.” 

“Of course,” you said, pushing his shirt collar back up and laying your head on his sternum. “How long?” 

“Hm?” 

You shrugged, watching a woman try on a stunning wedding dress on the TV. “How long have you wanted to kiss me?” 

Marcus thought it over. “Last year,” he finally decided. “When Missy had three teeth out. You were so kind, and I just melted.” 

“But you didn’t fall in love hard enough to ever pay me a visit,” you teased, tracing the faded symbol on his shirt. 

“Didn’t ever want to go under and realize I’d spilled everything,” Marcus confessed. 

You smiled. “Too late. You said I looked like an Angel in the hallway.” 

Marcus turned bright red, and you laughed at him. “It’s okay,” you promised, kissing his cheek that didn’t have the ice pack. “I think you’re pretty handsome yourself.” 

That night, after dinner and more pills and ice cream for dessert, you and Marcus settled down in the only bedroom, clinging to each other as if your lives depended on it. 

Waking up was hard. Marcus was well enough to go home, most of the swelling gone and the numbness completely faded. 

“So,” you clicked down the halls of the dentist’s office, Marcus behind you. “No really hot liquids for another few days, and try not to do solids until then either. That antibacterial mouthwash should be used twice a day, and you can start brushing your teeth again in two days. Remember, no straws, take your pills, keep icing your cheeks, and if I see you in this office before this time next week, I will be calling your mother.” 

Marcus nodded as you pulled open the lobby door, where Anita and Missy were waiting. “Anything else Doctor?” 

You shook your head. “You should be all clear Mr. Moreno. I’ll be seeing you for your check-up next week. Don’t you go skipping out on me now.” 

Marcus smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, leaning a bit closer to you. “And I cannot wait to kiss you for real.” 

He pulled away, leaving you flushed and dizzy. “See you next week Doctor.” 

“See you next week Mr. Moreno.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want!

[musings-from-mars]

part 4 por favor? Maybe Ruby starts noticing the "tension" between Cinder and Blake and starts setting them up?

Freelance Love Triangle AU - Part 4

They arrived at the outdoor gallery, and Ruby was already zipping around here and there, thinking out loud about angles and framing, all while gushing about the art on display, choosing her favorites. “This is so cool!” She said to Blake and Cinder.

“It’s a lovely installation,” Cinder agreed, the corner of her mouth turned up. “Don’t you think so, Blake?”

It was a pretty magnificent showcase. Crude marble pillars of varying heights and widths stood in a seemingly random arrangement, each with art pieces hung on the sides. The pieces of 3D art stood in spaces between pillars. While there were two equally tall pillars that served as the “entrance” to the exhibition, it was open air and seemingly boundless, as the pillars became fewer and farther between the further from the center you moved.

At the very center of the gallery was a massive metal sculpture of what looked like a suit of armor, but it was matte black, and the plates of armor were spaced out from one another so it was easy to see right through the gaps. It stood on a concrete cube labeled “SOAPBOX” with “various artists” engraved underneath. The artists were making a point, and Blake’s mind raced trying to decipher what it might be.

But then Ruby started talking to Cinder, and that broke Blake’s focus immediately.

“The suit is faceless, and the armor having such obvious gaps indicates that the suit is vulnerable,” Cinder explained to Ruby as she looked up at the sculpture, which Ruby craning her neck to do the same. “Yet it stands on a soapbox, elevated and arrogant, despite the flaws in its defenses. I think it makes a point about the illusions of authority and strength of those in power, and the general populace’s compliance despite the obvious flaws that everyone can see if they look close enough.”

“Woah, that’s so cool…” Ruby murmured with wonder.

Blake didn’t want to feel as annoyed as she did, because Cinder’s take on it was pretty much exactly how Blake viewed the piece, but dammit, she wanted to impress Ruby too! She tried to come up with something original to say, but she didn’t want to sound desperate. Cinder was too smooth and eloquent.

“I imagine it took a long time to fashion the metal and assemble it, probably took several weeks, even for a team of artists,” Cinder pondered.

“If you were to get into contact with the artists, you might know for sure,” Blake remarked, not intending to sound so combative, but it was said. “There’s more to this than what the viewer can interpret. Anyone can come around here and write an article about what they think it all means in a day, but we’re putting together something bigger. We need testimonies from the artists, opinions of other creatives…”

Cinder had turned from the sculpture and was glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, isn’t that why you’re here? You’re the networking specialist, after all.”

“It’s your project too, you know,” Blake said, stepping closer to her, then sort of regretting doing that now that she was close enough to smell her perfume. “I’m not doing all the interviews while you sit back and write down your opinions. You’ve got to pull your weight.”

“I’ve pulled plenty of weight. I haven’t even shown you the drafts I have yet,” Cinder countered, and for some reason thought it appropriate to smile at Blake. She looked down her nose a bit at her, making Blake resent Cinder’s slight height advantage. “After all, isn’t it only fair that I handle the majority of the writing, you acquire the testimonies, and Ruby handles the accompanying media? Let’s all do what we’re good at here, huh?”

Blake hated it when she made a good point. She wanted to counter-argue but she knew that would be counterproductive. “So I’m going have to handle all of the interviews? That will take up so much of my work time, you really will be on the hook for pretty much all of the writing.”

“Like I said, it’s what we’re good at,” Cinder repeated and shrugged. She leaned her weight on one leg in that sexy way that kind of pissed Blake off. “You think so, Ruby?”

Ruby had been silent the whole time, pressing her lips together as she stood by during the intense exchange. When she heard her name spoken, she snapped out of it a bit and blinked. “Oh, yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Uhm, Robyn wanted us to allocate, right?”

“Right,” Cinder agreed and nodded. “That was easy, we’ve already allocated. Wonderful job, team.”

If Blake gritted her teeth any harder she’d have to book a dentist appointment. Thankfully, Cinder took that moment to turn away from her and walk over to one of the gallery’s pillars, swaying her hips like an annoying exotic bird.

I hate you I hate you I haaaaate you—

“Ruby, I think if you got one of these pillars in the foreground with the sculpture in the background, that could maybe be a candidate for cover,” Cinder said.

Ruby hurried over to look at what she meant, leaving Blake standing next to Soapbox, shoulders slumped forward and her face burning hot.

Was getting cover worth it? Was getting to work with Ruby worth how insufferable and annoying aloof Cinder was? Blake was seriously considering it, but then she watched as Ruby giggled at something Cinder said, and she knew then that she had to stick with this, for whatever other reasons, but mostly to make sure Ruby and Cinder didn’t become a thing.

Was that shitty of her? Maybe. But the thought of that happening made her blood boil.

~~~

“How about I take you both for a drink?”

The offer felt like it came out of nowhere. The three of them were waiting on a bench not far from the gallery. Night had fallen, and while they had gotten plenty of photos and Blake had gotten the chance to take some notes about the various artists, it wasn’t that late. Blake was about to hail a rideshare because she just wasn’t in the mood to walk all the way home, but (while she kind of hated that she did), Blake considered Cinder’s offer.

“That sounds like fun, sure!” Ruby said. She sat between Blake and Cinder, tapping away at her laptop as she backed up the photos of the day. Even as time went on, she hadn’t lost any energy, which Blake was impressed by. She certainly couldn’t say the same for herself she was fresh out of college.

“Lovely,” Cinder said with a smile.

Well, if Ruby was going with Cinder, Blake was definitely going, too. “Sure. I could use a drink. But I’m not staying out late, nor should any of us. We’ve got more work to do tomorrow.”

Cinder nodded knowingly. “Just a little excursion. We’ll save the proper night out for Friday.” Blake couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “I know I nice little bar near here. It’s the quaint type, for hipsters like us.”

Blake chuckled a bit at that. “Great, I love craft beer,” she said sarcastically.

“I’ve never had anything other than hard seltzer,” Ruby admitted with a shy chuckle. “Do they have that?”

“I’m sure they do, hun,” Cinder assured her with a smile that made the hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand up.

Ruby rubbed the back of her neck bashfully as she shut her laptop, having finished saving her images. “Not to be a stereotypical gay or anything.”

Blake snorted a laugh, then blushed at the fact she’d snorted. “What, do gays like hard seltzer?”

“I guess?” Ruby shrugged, still blushing.

“I’m more of a red wine lesbian myself, we all have our tastes,” Cinder told her, her voice dripping with a flirtatious lull, as if she were already a glass deep.

Blake chewed on the inside of her mouth. She figured “whatever sounds good at the time bisexual” wouldn’t sound as sexy as red wine lesbian. Then again, she’d never had a hard seltzer. “I’ll get whatever you get, Ruby. I’m curious.”

Ruby giggled, her cheeks rosy and dimpled when she grinned. “Oh no, now I really hope you like it or else I’ll seem like I have bad taste.”

Blake smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry, hun, I think I’ll like it just fine.” She felt proud of herself for slipping a “hun” in there like Cinder had. The combination of Ruby blushing and Cinder shooting her a glare of recognition was a satisfying confidence boost.

Ruby tapped her feet on the concrete a few times, like she was letting out a sudden excess of energy, and she hopped off the bench. “We should go! The night’s not getting any younger, right?”

Cinder stood with her, her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. “We should. I’ll lead the way.”

Blake sighed as she followed, the group beginning to follow Cinder’s lead away from the park. She hoped she’d seen the end of Cinder’s funny business, but she knew that was a hope in futility. She had to be planning something, right?

The best Blake could think to do was be there to see what it was.

[clunelover]

Today I spent at least an hour on phone and emails making doctor appointments for the kids. It sucks because it’s something that for the sake of equality I should have Jeremy do some of, and he asks to do it, but our jobs are so different - if he wants to make these calls he has to like set a reminder to do it during one of the half hour chunks he has here and there not in meetings, but then of course he has his actual work to do so he’ll sometimes snooze the reminder and, ya know…whereas I have 0-2 meetings a day. 3 meetings I would consider heavy. So it just makes sense for me to call…except I almost always forget that if I want to not also be the one to TAKE them to all the appointments I also need a vague sense of Jeremy’s better days/times before I’m setting the appointments…but that’s even more work, turning me into the full on admin of the family (I mean more than I already am). But anyway, I got Edie an appointment with her therapist for next week to talk about stomach ache which as of today I do think is more emotional. And I’ve not yet met the therapist because actually those have been one set of appointments Jeremy had been the one managing. [Because the therapist schedules via email! Oh and Jeremy is also taking her to the dentist tomorrow. Because the dentist lets you schedule via TEXT!] So I’m excited to meet this guy and see what he has to say. I got her an appointment with her regular doctor to go through the other physical issues like allergies for a few weeks from now, in case there’s a physical component, but that’s not for a few weeks. And then I spent a stupid amount of time getting passed between people trying to find the children’s VOICE AND SWALLOW clinic for Calvin, and then I got transferred off to the covid testing place because he needs a test three days before voice and swallow folks can poke around in his mouth. This is a fun one…it all started with him having those terrible tantrums. We started with OT per social worker BFF’s recommendation. The OT guy said he didn’t have sensory issues or other things that would benefit from OT but it did seem like he got very frustrated when people couldn’t hear him, here have a referral for speech. Speech person assessed him (okay and Jeremy took him to that one too, I’m dialing my resentment back another click) and said that the sounds he’s struggling with (r, th) are often acquired later, and he’s normal for his age and not that hard to understand, BUT she thought his voice sounded very raspy and/or nasally and he may need voice therapy!! And other people (mostly family members) have asked about his voice or said it sounded unusual, to which my internal reaction has been “what are you talking about, he sounds fine, fuck off!!” but I guess it’s a thing I just couldn’t pick out. So now we shall get assessed by voice and swallow, but in the meantime his behavior is way better, thanks in large part to his awesome new daycare I think! It’s such a great place and they just have so much more structure and boundaries which is clearly something he needed. One of my biggest concrete examples is, at the old place I’d often pick him up and find him in the middle of drawing and he’d be SO MAD about having to stop, and the teacher would volunteer to let him take his drawing AND THE CRAYON OR MARKER home with us. Which I should have just been firmer about saying “thanks but no thanks” to, but it was awkward and I was usually more invested in just leaving without continuing the meltdown so I’d say okay thanks and take it. At the new place, I picked him up the other day in the middle of doing some stenciling, and he said “look mommy, I have an art project drawer where I put this so I can work on it tomorrow! And here’s where the markers go, and here’s where the stencils go!” So yeah - another victory for boundaries and rules! Kids love them!

Overall though, I would say I feel OVERWHELMED about the amount of appointments and stuff that they are currently needing. And this is for relatively minor issues (well, I mean, we hope). Being a parent is hard and there’s a lot going on and I suppose I am feeling…the burnout.

[edie-k]

The Art of Christmas Tree Selection

Title: The Art of Christmas Tree Selection

Rating: PG/PG-13 (just language)

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: On holiday at Hermione's house, Ron is faced with one the scariest prospects of his young life: a talk with Mr. Granger.

In the way back times, less than a year after the publication of Order of the Phoenix, I wrote my first Romione fic. This was it. In the spirt of Christmas, I thought I would share it. It is, AU after OOTP. Originally published on Checkmated, as I am 16 years older, I now made Ron’s conversation with Mr. Granger slightly less melodramatic to find a better balance. Enjoy!  

“Now wait Hermione, explain this again. How exactly do those people get into that box?” asked Ron, cocking his head at the television set in the corner.

“Honestly Ron, I’m not explaining it again!” Hermione huffed, placing her hands on her hips. The long strands of garland she had previously been winding around the banister of the staircase trailed from her fists to the floor.

“Aw, come on love. You enjoy being a know it all,” Ron replied, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and pulled her back against him.

“Ron!” squealed Hermione, pulling away slightly and turning in his arms to place her hands on the back of his neck. It was all Ron could do to restrain himself from letting out a sigh of contentment. Luckily, his ego kept him from sounding too effeminate.

It was his last Christmas break before leaving Hogwarts and it was the first holiday that he would spend without Harry or his family. Hermione had wanted to spend Christmas with her mum and dad and she had managed to get Ron to agree to accompany her home.

If he was completely honest, Hermione had some rather brilliant ways of convincing him.

Hermione and he had finally managed to get their act together a couple of months into sixth year. All of their pent up emotions and tension spilled out in the middle of a row. “I always knew it would come out like that,” Ginny bragged. In all honesty, Ron couldn’t remember what the argument had been about but he never mentioned that because Hermione most likely did.

In the year and some months they had been together, life had proved to be rather trying. Then again, life as Harry Potter’s best friend was never easy. Having Hermione by his side through it all was the biggest blessing he could have received. Of course, Hermione had always been there with him but without the underlying tension, he found that much more comfort in her presence.

Harry was really supposed to be there with them. After Hermione had talked (well, not necessarily talked) Ron into going to her home for the holiday, she had immediately invited Harry, who much to their surprise, declined. He informed them that he had already accepted his mum’s invitation to join the Weasleys and told Ron and Hermione that he would see them when they arrived at the Burrow on Boxing Day to spend the rest of their holiday. “Besides,” said Harry after Hermione had retired to her room for the night. “Don’t you two want to spend some time alone?”

Yes. Yes he did. Another disadvantage of being Harry Potter’s best friend (besides the target on your back) was that Harry required an abundance of support and attention to keep him from slipping into a mood of eternal melancholy. Ron looked forward to any time that he could spend alone with Hermione. Of course, their alone time was not going to happen at her parents’ house.

Hermione’s parents. Oh Merlin, they made him nervous. There were times when Ron could barely convince himself that he deserved Hermione, how could he convince her parents?

Ron had seen snippets from letters that Hermione had received from home and he could tell that they thought she could do no wrong. He figured this had to do with the fact she was an only child. His own parents had never harbored such beliefs. They were overjoyed if their children could make it through the day without hurting themselves or one another.

Hermione’s parents were dentists. This was some sort of Muggle tooth doctor and according to Harry, dentists typically made a good deal of money. If their house was any indication, it was rather obvious. Harry also told him that to become a dentist, you had to go to university for a number of years. Therefore, the Grangers were just as brilliant as their genius daughter.

For the three days since their arrival at the Granger household, Ron stuck as close as possible to Hermione. This strategy had seemed to work for him so far. The first two days, the Grangers had worked during the day (which also equated to some proper alone time) and he only faced their scrutiny at dinner. With Hermione there to properly steer the conversation, Ron was able to participate and sound at least half way intelligent.

This morning, however, was the first day of the Grangers’ holiday from their office, and consequently, Mrs. Granger had scheduled a doctor’s appointment for Hermione. Hermione had protested fervently. “Honestly, I don’t need to see a cardiologist. Just because I had a slight murmur as a baby doesn’t mean there is a thing wrong with me now. Believe me, if it was anything life threatening I’m sure that I would already have had cardiovascular failure,” Hermione had vented to Ron. He had merely nodded and inquired as to the time of her appointment. The appointment was scheduled for 9:15 in the morning and Ron had managed to stay in bed until 11:00 when he heard the front door open. His mum would have him degnoming the garden for the rest of his life if she found out he behaved that way while a guest in someone’s home.

It was now the afternoon and they had finished lunch and begun to decorate the house for Christmas. Hermione had been wrapping the garland around the banister of the stairs of the entrance hall where Ron had been hanging garland to line the windows of the front door. The house was beginning to take on the aromas of Christmastime, which reminded him of his own mum’s baking.

“Ron? Ron?” said an amused voice. He shook his head, clearing it and looked down at a grinning Hermione. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. I got a bit lost in my own thoughts there.”

“I asked if you wanted to take two steps to the right,” she repeated. Ron glanced upward in the direction that she had indicated and grinned. With his arms still around her, he took two exaggerated steps until they were directly underneath a small sprig of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling. He raised his eyebrows twice and drew a giggle from Hermione, something only he could do. He leaned in for a sweet kiss.

“Hermione?” called a voice. Ron dropped his arms away from Hermione and quickly pushed her away.

“Yes Dad?” asked Hermione, rolling her eyes at Ron. Hermione had told him that she was positive her parents would not be offended if they were affectionate with each other in front of them but Ron could barely bring himself to hold her hand in the presence of her mum and dad.

“Mum was hoping that you would help her in the kitchen with the fudge. She seems to think that if you prepare it, Aunt Patricia won’t be so inclined to criticize it tomorrow.” Mr. Granger gave her a wink and she smiled.

“Sure, Dad,” she replied.

Ron was now completely unsure as to what he should do while Hermione assisted her mum. Before he had much chance to panic, Mr. Granger opened his mouth, uttering one of the scariest things Ron ever heard in his life.

“I was just about to leave to get our Christmas tree. I could use some help. Why don’t you join me, Ron?”

“Uh-um, yeah,” Ron stuttered out. “I mean, yes sir. I would be glad to help.”

“Wonderful! I’ll just round up my winter things,” Mr. Granger said, heading toward the back of the house and leaving Hermione and Ron alone in the front hall once again.

Ron turned to Hermione, his eyes wide open and filled with panic. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron, it’s just my dad. You have faced things much more terrifying than my father.”

“Well, what if I slip and say something that makes him hate me?” Ron asked, his voice filled with fear.

“As long as you two don’t discuss snogging habits, I think that you will do fine,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“Hermione!” Ron said, aghast. How could she even joke about this?

“Well, honestly Ron. What could you possibly do? Dad is already quite aware of the wizarding world. My parents know the basics of the war with Voldemort, so no surprises there. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” With that, she stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek before entering the kitchen to help her mother and leaving him absolutely alone in his own misery.

“Blimey,” Ron muttered to the empty room. “I’m screwed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This whole excruciating mess had to be almost over. It seemed like hours since they had left the safety of Hermione acting as a buffer. Ron glanced out the car window and over his shoulder. Shit. He could still see the driveway. They had barely started.  

“Well Ron,” said Mr. Granger. “Judy and I are glad that you could join us for Christmas. I’m sure Hermione filled you in on our family.” Ron nodded. Both sets of Hermione’s grandparents knew that she was a witch but none of her aunts, uncles, or cousins were privy to that information. They thought she attended Huntington Preparatory School. So that meant that he would not only have to pretend to be a Muggle but a smart one as well. At least with Hermione’s parents he could respond with his real life.

“I plan on letting Hermione run the conversation,” Ron said nervously.

Mr. Granger smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry Ron. We won’t let you die out there. I hope you won’t be too overwhelmed by all of the family tomorrow. They are a good group but they can get a bit rowdy as a party wears on.”

“If anyone understands a rowdy family, it’s me, sir,” Ron answered. Of course, when he was with his own family, he didn’t need to lie about his entire life and impress them enough so that they thought he was good enough for Hermione.

Mr. Granger chuckled. “I would imagine that you are well-versed in that. I’ve heard plenty of stories about the trouble that your twin brothers cause… What are their names again?”

“Fred and George,” supplied Ron. Ron had a feeling that Mr. Granger had not heard some of the more recent stories from Hermione’s visit this summer since most of those involved Ron and Hermione having tricks played on them while being caught in rather compromising situations.

“I know that Hermione has always enjoyed the time that she spends with your family. I imagine it’s nice for her to experience a big family first-hand. Judy and I are glad that she’s seeing a young man that comes from such a strong family background. I’m not sure how things are in the wizarding world but there has been a breakdown of families here in recent years and it’s nice to see that Hermione found someone who was raised with strong family values.”  

“My mum and dad tried their best,” Ron responded. He began to relax a bit. This wasn’t so bad. Mr. Granger was actually being quite flattering. And he had managed to answer mostly in complete sentences.

“Judy and I do like you, Ron,” Mr. Granger continued. “But Hermione is our only child. As her father, it’s my obligation to ask you what your exact feelings toward her are.”

How much would it hurt to jump from a moving car? They were traveling on side streets so they couldn’t be going that fast. As long as he tucked his head…

“Ron?” prompted Mr. Granger again.

“I’m sorry sir,” squeaked Ron in a voice that had not made an appearance since early puberty. He cleared his throat. “Could you repeat that?”

“I’m sorry to take you by surprise. Take a moment to collect your thoughts,” Mr. Granger said.

What Ron really wanted to do was slap himself in the forehead. Why had he left his wand back at the house? Not only was it stupid with all the danger they faced but if he had it, he could Apparate the hell out of there. No. No, he had to stay. And not just because he did not have his wand. He had to stay because he loved Hermione. All he had to do was explain to her father why.

“Uh, well sir, I love your daughter very much. She’s been my friend forever. And I reckon that even with a family as large as mine, she’s the one person in the world that I never have to doubt. She always believes in me and supports me. And even when we argue, I never have to wonder if she really loves me or not because I already know the answer. And I want to be that person for her as well. She means everything to me,” Ron said. Wow, that was pretty articulate!

Hermione was really rubbing off on him because now he was thinking words like articulate. And earlier this afternoon, he was pretty sure he had thought the word melancholy. What was happening to him?

Mr. Granger cleared his throat. “That’s very good to hear Ron. A little hard for a father to hear but it’s a very nice thought.”

“I uh- I mean every word of it,” Ron said, trying to sound confident. He was confident in how he felt about Hermione but less certain about expressing it to her father.

“I’m sure that you do. So now I have to know-what are your intentions toward my daughter?”

According to Bill, Charlie, and Fred, who all had fiancées or steady girlfriends, those were the scariest seven words in the English language. He had laughed at the time. What could be so horrible about saying that his plan was to marry Hermione (when they were much older, of course)? Now that he was actually expected to say it to her father he felt closer to his older brothers than ever before. He prayed that he could channel one of them as he answered the question. Preferably not Fred.

“Um, well, uh, sir, I guess my plan is that when we are older-uh, much older- I would like to spend- that is I want to.” Gryffindor, Gryffindor! “I’m planning to be with her for as long as she’ll have me.”

Mr. Granger turned to regard him as Ron stared determinedly out the windshield. “Do you know what Hermione’s plans are for the future?”

Ron was a little surprised by this. He had expected the next question to be about his own future and career. “I don’t think she has quite made up her mind as to what occupation she wants to pursue. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m sure she’ll succeed no matter what she does. I just hope that she plans to take me along for the ride.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Mr. Granger. “We know our daughter is intelligent Ron.”

“I wouldn’t have made it this far without her,” Ron said. He immediately reddened at his sudden interruption. “Um, sorry sir.”

“That’s okay. I’m glad to see you think so highly of her. We want her to reach her full potential and we want to see her with someone who will be supportive of that.”

“Yes, of course sir. I sincerely doubt that I could stop her even if I really wanted to.”

Mr. Granger laughed. “She said you had a sense of humor. Although we haven’t seen much of it this holiday.”  

“Well, I reckon I have been a bit nervous,” Ron admitted. He remembered Charlie had said that his girlfriend’s father had liked it when he had shown fear.

“I remember the first time I was alone with Judy’s father,” Mr. Granger said. “I was helping him fix a few shingles on his roof and when he asked me how I felt about Judy, I contemplated jumping off the roof.”

Ron laughed uncomfortably. Was he a mind reader?

Mr. Granger cleared his throat and a rather serious look crossed his face. “This might sound a bit hypocritical after I made such a point of Hermione’s independence but as her father….” Mr. Granger stopped and he looked as uncomfortable as Ron did for a moment.

The car was on a busier road and now traveling at a faster speed but if Mr. Granger asked Ron a question about their physical relationship… gravity be damned, he was jumping.

Ron debated on whether he should prompt Mr. Granger to continue because he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear it, when Mr. Granger continued his previous thought.

“I know there is danger in your world. I don’t know the extent of it but I think that it is worse than Hermione leads us to believe.” Mr. Granger glanced at Ron who continued to sit in silence. He did not want to incriminate Hermione because he knew that she had not told her parents the whole truth but his silence seemed to affirm Mr. Granger’s opinion.

“And I know that Hermione is in more danger than most.” Harry Potter’s Muggle-born best friend? She was probably third on Voldemort’s hit list, behind Harry and Dumbledore.

“So I just want to make sure that, well, that...” Mr. Granger was struggling for the words but Ron could see where he was going. And Ron knew exactly how to answer this question.

“Mr. Granger, I promise you that I will protect your daughter. I will keep her safe until the day I die. I would do anything to keep her safe. Anything.” Wow, that was good. He sounded pretty manly.

“Thank you Ron. That’s what I wanted to hear,” Mr. Granger said.

Ron felt the need to fill the silence so he followed up with “I mean it, sir.” He mentally slapped himself. Way to contribute a worthwhile comment, Weasley.  

Mr. Granger looked at him and smiled. For the first time the whole ride, Ron turned to meet his eyes and smiled back.  

The car coasted into a lot filled with pine trees already cut and prepared to be sold. Mr. Granger put the car into park and Ron opened his door and slid out.  

“One more thing Ron,” said Mr. Granger as they walked toward the tree lot.

“Yes?” Ron asked, meeting his eyes again. Hermione was right. Her dad wasn’t so bad.

“When you’re with my daughter, keep your hands where I can see them.”

[mldrgrl]

Wise Up

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: Scully needs someone to take her home after dental surgery.  Pre-Millennium.

He came back from getting coffee to find her mid-conversation with her mother.  She gave him a glance over her shoulder when he put the to-go cup quietly on her table and then lowered her chin so that her hair obscured her face.  She switched her cell phone from one hand to the other and he shuffled to his own desk pretending to give her privacy.

“It’s fine, Mom,” she said.  “I promise.  I’ll just try to get it rescheduled until after the new year.  No, I...no, I don’t need...Mom, it’s fine.”

He sipped his coffee and opened a file, but kept his gaze higher than necessary to keep her in his periphery.  She pinched the bridge of her nose in silence for the next ten seconds and then she finally lifted her head.

“Mom,” she stated.  “I have to go, I need to finish a report.  I’ll reschedule for January.  As for Thursday, don’t worry about it, you just feel better.  I know.  I know.  I love you too.  Bye.”

Scully disconnected her call with a deep sigh that Mulder pretended not to notice.  He was burning with curiosity, however, and it was only a matter of time before he would ask.  He just had to wait for the right opportunity.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He nodded as she stood and rubbed the back of her jaw a little.  He’d noticed she’d been doing that a lot lately, but hadn’t said anything about it.  She left without her coffee, her jacket, or her satchel, so he assumed she was headed to the ladies’ room.

Only minutes later, she was back, and he was sipping his coffee and reading email.  She stayed standing, lifting the lid of her own coffee and blowing across the top.  He gave her a sideways glance as she paced in front of his desk with a pensive expression.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said.

“A few dozen more and I might make a dent in what I owe you.”

“Mm.”  The left corner of her mouth twitched into a half-smile.

He thought he might have an opening.  “Everything alright?”

“Fine.”

He thought wrong.  He nodded and clicked open another email advising an early release tomorrow for administrative personnel due to the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday.  He’d be surprised if he saw anyone but his own shadow at work tomorrow.  Even Scully had taken the day off.

By the time he opened and deleted three other emails, she was still pacing by his desk, so he tried again.  “How’s your mom?”

“She’s…”

“Fine?”

“She has the flu, actually.  She called to tell me that she didn’t think she’d be up for Thanksgiving this year.”

“Oh.”  Mulder sat back in his chair.  Now he was the one pulling a pensive expression.

“It’s fine,” she said, quickly.  “I wasn’t actually…”

He raised his brows in question and she shook her head dismissively.  He swiveled from side to side in his chair and tapped a pencil against his chin as he looked at her, which he knew made her nervous.  It worked.  She shifted her feet and suddenly couldn’t decide if she might speak or drink her coffee.  Her exasperation was palpable.

“I have a dentist appointment tomorrow,” she blurted.  “Well, I was supposed to, but now I have to cancel.”

“Why?”

“I’m having a wisdom tooth removed and Mom was supposed to take me.  I was going to use the long weekend to recover.  She has the flu now, so…”  She shrugged and finally took a sip of her coffee and then rubbed her lips together.  “They don’t let you leave on your own after anesthesia.  So, I have to reschedule.”

“I can take you.”

“No, Mulder, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking.  I’m offering.  I can take you.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s not like I’d be getting much done here by myself anyway.”

“I thought you always accomplished so much with me out of your hair.”

He smiled at her.  “I just tell you that so you don’t feel guilty about leaving me on my own.”

She snorted softly.

“So, what time do I pick you up?” he asked.

“Don’t you have plans for Thanksgiving, Mulder?”

He got up out of his seat and walked over to her, extending his hand.  “Fox Mulder,” he said.  “We’ve obviously never met before.”

She bashfully lowered her head a little and hesitated for a few beats.  “I need to be there by 9:15,” she finally said.  “It’s only about ten minutes away from my apartment.”

“The Skinman’s gonna have a heart attack when I submit my request for time off.”

And that’s how he ended up sitting in a dental surgeon’s office splitting his attention between vintage copies of Reader’s Digest and anxiously checking his watch every five minutes.  Occasionally, he would get up and inspect an elaborate fish tank taking up half the wall in the waiting room to watch the yellow tangs and clownfish pass from side to side.

It was nearly noon when the nurse came out to collect Mulder.  “Your wife is ready for you,” she told him.

“Oh, um…”  He tossed the Reader’s Digest aside and decided it wasn’t worth it to explain his relationship to Scully.  Instead, he followed her to a tiny, all-white recovery room at the back of the office where his partner was curled up on a cot with her eyes closed.

“Miss Scully,” the nurse said, shaking her gently on the shoulder.  “Your husband is here to take you home.”

Scully opened her eyes and stared blankly at the woman standing above her.  She sat up slowly with the nurse’s help and then Mulder crouched down and put a hand on her knee.  Her right cheek was puffed up, full of cotton swabs that poked out of the corner of his mouth.  The size of her pupils caught him off guard, so dilated her eyes almost looked black.

“Muller,” Scully murmured.  “My mowf ish mishing.”

“Your mouth is missing?”  He chuckled softly and rubbed her knee.  “Certainly not the whole mouth.”

“She might be a little loopy until the anesthesia wears off,” the nurse said.  “The tooth was impacted and took some work.”

The thought of it made Mulder cringe.  He helped Scully into her jacket and then to her feet and she swayed into him, leaned against him for support.  The nurse handed him a small white bag with painkillers and instructions, which she rattled off to him as he escorted his partner slowly down the hall.

“Take the gauze out when you get home,” she said.  “Don’t let her prod the jaw or use mouthwash for at least a week.  She’ll probably want to sleep for a few more hours, but by the time she wakes up, she’ll be in a fair amount of pain.  Give her one of the painkillers immediately, and then as needed, but no more than four in 24 hours.  Ice packs will help with the swelling and the pain.  She might feel lightheaded or woozy the next couple of days and that’s normal.  No exercise for the next week, no drinking through a straw, and no eating or drinking at all for the next two hours.  And then soft foods and room temperature liquids are fine.  The pamphlet there has all the information you need.”

Mulder nodded along, suddenly nervous about the responsibility he’d volunteered for.  He’d never had dental surgery and had no idea the amount of recovery involved.  Maybe he should have let her reschedule the appointment so her mom could take care of her, but then again, he struggled to imagine Scully’s mom, as slight as she was, getting her daughter out of the office when Mulder was practically carrying her down the hall to the door.

It took some time, but he managed to get Scully into the car and buckled in.  She turned her head towards him when he got in and gazed at him like she had just awakened from a pleasant dream.

“You’re susha good driver,” she said.

“Well, thank you,” he answered, latching his seatbelt.

“Even whener losh and dunno whereer at.”

“Lucky for you, there’s no chance I’ll get lost from here to the apartment.”

“Are we goin’ to your parparmen, Muller?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“Mm home.”  

Mulder started the car and that was the last thing Scully said until they arrived in front of her building.  He would look over at her at red lights and she was still turned towards him, her eyes half-open, blinking slowly.  When he parked the car, she turned her head and her brows came together with a deep frown.  He helped her out of the car and she took baby steps across the lawn, leaving footprints in the thin layer of snow that covered the green.

Her face contorted as though she was in great pain and he stopped with her at the foot of the stairs up to her front door.  “Muller,” she whined.  “Thish isna wherer coush lives.”

“No, it’s where your couch lives.”

“I can’d shleep on my coush.”

“Good thing you have a bed.  Come on, almost there.”

It was slow-going up the stairs.  She took them one at a time, making sure both feet were planted securely before moving forward.  By the time he got her through the door, she was sagging against him again and he considered just picking her up and carrying her the rest of the way.

“Home sweet home,” he said, unlocking her apartment door.

“Where’sh the dog?” she asked, blinking up at him.

“What dog?”

“My dog.”

“Queegqueg?  He uh…”  Mulder paused.  It probably wasn’t the best idea to let her know her dog had been eaten by a lake monster three years ago.  “Queegqueg isn’t here right now.”

“Queegqueg.  Thash a weird word, Muller.  Queeeeeeequeeeeeeeeeeeg.  Queegquegqueegquegqueegqueg.”

He put the bag of painkillers and nurse’s instructions on the table in her kitchen while she tried to wrap her head around the odd word.  “Yeah, I always thought it was a weird name for a dog, too.”

“What dog?”

“Your dog.”

“I dun have a dog.”

Mulder raised his brows.  “Okay, let’s get you to bed.”

Scully sighed a little and let Mulder lead her towards the bedroom.  He sat her down on the bed and then knelt in front of her to unlace her tennis shoes.  He wondered if he should try to coax her into getting into some pajamas, but figured it might be more trouble than it was worth.  Jeans and a sweater should be comfortable enough.  He got both shoes off her feet and then remembered the gauze needed to come out of her mouth.  

“Can you…?”  He gestured to her mouth and she followed the wag of his finger until she turned cross-eyed.  “We need to get those cotton balls or whatever it is out of your mouth.”

She opened her mouth for him and tipped her head back a little.  If he didn’t know she was drugged up before, he definitely knew it now.  A sober Scully would’ve insisted on gloves and sterilizing and sanitizing the entire room before letting him near her mouth.  A sober Scully would’ve insisted she was fine and could do it herself.  Gingerly, he plucked out the saliva and blood-soaked pieces of cotton from the inside of her cheek, trying not to let his squeamishness show too much or  get in the way.  It wasn’t lost on him that if the tables were turned, she would do the same for him, and more.

When he was sure he’d removed all the gauze, he took it into the bathroom to dispose of, not looking at the little pile of gore in his hand.  He shivered and then washed his hands with the soap that Scully had been smelling of lately, which he definitely wasn’t going to complain about because it made her smell so good.  It made the night he’d ‘taught’ her how to play baseball even more memorable.  He thought it might have been a new lotion or bath gel, but it turned out it was hand soap the whole time.  Or maybe she had a whole set of it lurking in the bathroom.  He dried his hands and peered at the bottle.  It was simply called: Almond.  He would buy her another bottle or a dozen for Christmas.  He liked it.

Back in Scully’s room, he found her poking at her cheek with the pads of her fingers and he took her hand away from her face to stop her.  “You can’t do that,” he said.

“Can’t feel anything.”

“It’ll wear off soon enough.  Let’s get your coat off and into bed.”

“We can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Go to bed.”

“I don’t see why not.”  He started to unbutton her coat.  “You have the day off, tomorrow’s a holiday, and then you-”

“It’s against the rules.”

“I’m not familiar with any rules that prohibit adults from taking post-surgery naps.”

“The FBI says so.”

“I haven’t read the handbook in awhile, but I don’t think this’ll warrant an official reprimand in your permanent record.  If it does, I’ve got your back.”  He struggled to get her arms free from the jacket and she was no help.  Just looked solemnly up at him while pouting her bottom lip slightly.  He finally pulled the jacket loose and then reached behind her to turn down the bed.  “Time to break some imaginary rules,” he said.

“I want to,” she whispered.  “I really want to.  But…”  She winced and then reached up to cup her jaw.

“Hurting?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, stay put.”  He turned to leave, but was stopped by a pull on his back pocket.

“Where’re you going?”

“To get you an ice pack.”

“You’ll come back?”

“I promise.”

“Promise, promise?”

He traced an ‘x’ against his chest.  She let go of his pocket and raised her hand up to him, all her fingers folded down except for the pinkie, which was crooked slightly.

“Pinkie swear?” she asked.

He chuckled and then hooked his pinkie finger with hers and gave it a shake.  “Lay down,” he said.  “I’ll be right back.”

Afraid she might try to stop him again, he hurried out of her room for the kitchen.  While there, he read over the instruction pamphlet on the table and checked her fridge and cupboards to see if she had any soft, bland foods, in case he might need to call out for delivery later or run to the store.  He found some yogurt and cans of soup and figured that would be sufficient.  What he couldn’t find, however, was an ice pack.  He searched her freezer high and low, but found nothing.  He decided to make do with a package of frozen corn wrapped in a tea towel.

He’d hoped to find her asleep when he came back to her room, but she was still awake, albeit drowsily staring up at the ceiling and rubbing at her jaw.

“You have to stop doing that,” he said, taking her hand away from her face.  He gently placed the makeshift icepack against her cheek and sat down next to her to hold it in place.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand.  She turned her head slightly and then closed her eyes and sniffed a little.  She looked up at him.

“You used my soap,” she said.

“Had to wash my hands earlier.”

“You like it don’t you?”

“It smells nice.”

“I noticed that you’ve been breathing me in lately.”

“If I have, I’m-”

“So, I went back to the shop I got the soap from and bought the lotion and the shower gel as well.”

“Oh.”  The first thing he thought was that he was right.  She did have a whole set lurking in her bathroom.  The second thought he had was that she’d just admitted she was wearing it for him.  Heat flooded his chest and tightened it, followed by a flutter low in his abdomen.

“You okay, Mulder?”

“Sorry, Scully, maybe I’m coming down with something?”

She struggled for a moment to sit up and the icepack slipped out of his hand and from her face, landing in the space between them on the bed.  She grabbed his head with both hands and pulled his towards her.

“Scully, wha-?”

“Checking for fever,” she murmured, resting her left cheek against his brow.  “You are a little warm, but I think you’re fine.”

“Not very scientific.”

“Some things are better than science.”

“I’m going to need you to repeat that when you’re no longer under the influence.”

“I haven’t been drinking.”

“You’re not exactly sober.”

She let him go and laid back down.  He retrieved the icepack and rewrapped it in the towel that came loose.  She waved him away when he tried to put it back on her cheek so he reached over to set it on her nightstand.

“I want to break the rules with you,” she said.

“Finally succumbing to my bad influence, are you?”

“I’m afraid though, Mulder.”

“What’re you afraid of?”

“The end of the world.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.  We’re gonna save the world together.  I promise.”

She shook her head.  “Our world, Mulder.  The world of you and me.”

“You’re gonna be stuck with me for a long, long time, Scully.”  He chuckled and raised his hand up, folding his fingers down and keeping his pinkie up.  “Pinkie swear.”

She grabbed his finger loosely with her own.  “I’m sorry I’m so sleepy.”

“You’re drugged up, partner.”

“Oh.”  She rubbed at one eye with the back of her hand.  “You won’t go, right?”

“I’ll hang with you until you kick me out.  You’ve got HBO, don’t you?”

“Even if we can’t go to bed?”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to take me to bed.”

“Oh.  Oh.”  He almost laughed.  Now her talk of rules made sense.  Except, what she said, what she’d been saying, was that she wanted to break those rules.  With him.  “Scully…”

Her eyes closed lazily and she took a deep, slow breath, exhaling with a sigh.  “I love you, Mulder.”

“Oh brother,” he whispered.  He sat absolutely still for the next few moments as that warm, fluttery feeling washed over him again.  He touched her shoulder and then leaned closer to her, watched her breathe slowly and evenly.  “You’re the only one I want to break the rules with too, Scully.”

Even though she was caught in sedated slumber, he was pretty sure she knew how he felt.  And he was definitely going to get her that almond soap for Christmas.

The End

[artificialqueens]

Girl I Met On The Internet, 5/6 (Crystal x Gigi) - Strawberry

a/n these chapters aren’t really that long but i keep taking forever to get them written and edited lol but anyway i hope ya’ll enjoy!! 

Gigi stayed at Crystal’s house for a while after their kiss. Crystal showed Gigi all of the art that was not yet hanging up on her walls, gave her a house tour, and introduced her to her cat Tic Tac, who Gigi instantly fell in love with. 

Gigi finally had to go when Crystal said her mom was on her way home from work, and would not be happy with Crystal if she found out she had someone over without permission. 

“Are you sure you’ll be fine walking home?” Crystal asked, watching Gigi put her shoes back on from where she was standing in the kitchen.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I live like, two streets down, actually so I’ll be there in like five minutes!” Gigi reassured her.

They hugged goodbye, Crystal walking her out and standing on her front porch until Gigi went out of sight. A few minutes later, Gigi messaged her.

gigi: i’m home and i miss ur cat

crystal: :o only tic tac??? not me??

gigi: yeah <3

crystal: you’re a loser

To Crystal’s disappointment, she didn’t hear from Gigi again until much later. Crystal had been debating getting off TikTok and going to sleep early for once when Gigi finally messaged her back. 

gigi: do u wanna facetime

crystal: YEAH!

Crystal balanced her phone on her history textbook that was still laying on her bed and grabbed Tic Tac, knowing Gigi would love seeing the cat again. 

“Hi!” Gigi waved, gasping when she saw Tic Tac in frame. “Who’s the cutest cat ever?”  

Gigi showed Crystal her room and her closet. Eventually, they both exited the FaceTime app to go on Twitter, but stayed on the call. They made it their mission to annoy the other girls by spamming them with pictures of frogs and other memes they had found funny.

crystal: frog in a hat frog in a hat

nicky: why not sheep? they are the superior animal!

crystal: No <3 but i fuck with you for trying

Jackie: Does this happen often?

nicky: crystal and gigi are always on some bullshit. just ignore them queen

jan!: nicky pls stop trying to steal jackie 

nicky: i simply breathed

“Hey, I think I’m going to bed,” Crystal yawned, “I’m tired. I would’ve been asleep by now if you didn’t want to talk.”

“Wait, before you go, do you maybe want to walk to school together tomorrow?” Gigi asked, coming back onto the app to see Crystal’s face.

Crystal smiled. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Great! I’ll message you in the morning. Goodnight, ba- bitch!”

Being so tired, Crystal almost didn’t catch Gigi’s slip up. “Goodnight, Gigi.”

Being just friends was going to be difficult, Crystal decided before finally allowing herself to fall asleep.

-

Walking to school became Gigi and Crystal’s new thing. With Crystal’s mom’s permission, Gigi would join Crystal after school on days she didn’t have practice, often staying for dinner. Crystal’s mom met Gigi a week after they started doing this, and was very skeptical the first time she met Gigi, not expecting Crystal to have befriended a cheerleader, but quickly welcomed her with open arms.

After Gigi had dinner with Crystal and her mom, her and Crystal went back into Crystal’s room to get some homework done. Gigi’s mom requested her to come home after Gigi and Crystal finished Gigi’s algebra homework. They were both pretty bad at math, but Crystal insisted if they worked together they would be able to figure it out, which was debatable at best.  

“I don’t want to go. I’m too comfy,” Gigi complained, not wanting to get up from Crystal’s bed.

“You have to. Sorry.” Crystal replied, making Gigi stick her tongue out at her.

A few moments later, Gigi sat up, remembering that she wanted to ask Crystal something. “Hey, so before I go, I was thinking…”

“You think?” Crystal teased, giggling. Gigi gasped in mock offense, throwing a pillow at her head.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Gigi continued, “I was thinking that we should have lunch together tomorrow. Only talking to you in the halls is not enough.”

“Yeah, of course! Do you want to meet me in the art room then?” Crystal asked, shutting her textbook and turning to face Gigi. 

“No. I’ll come meet you outside your class. What happens next is a surprise.”

Those words replayed in Crystal’s brain for the rest of the night. A conversation that happened in the group chat when Crystal was in the shower got her even more excited.

gigi: guys guess what

jan!: yeah??

gigi: i miss crystal :(

jan!: weren’t you at her house like an hour ago

heidi: hold up WHAT

heidi: miss gigi was WHERE????

jaida: what now

gigi: JAN SHUSH you ruined my reveal!!!

jaida: JAN YOU KNEW THIS??? and didn’t wish to share???

jan!: uh-

heidi: not a reveal DHGJSDH

gigi: i’m gonna ask crystal out and then after that i was gonna send a selfie of us revealing that we are dating AND that we live in the same town and everyone would lose their minds at the superior couple

jaida: now why would you announce that if she’s in here

gigi: SHIT

gigi: everyone spam the chat she doesn’t read up 

jan!: SUPERIOR COUPLE?? HELLO???

jan!: stealing your idea. we aren’t dating yet but look at me and jackie :-) 

nicky: I HEARD JACKIE IM HERE

jaida: nicky why do you hit on everyone who’s not available dgfhfj first gigi, and then you were a crystal stan and now this

nicky: why are you acting like this is a problem jai

Jackie: I find it hilarious. Jan only reserves that side of her when Ariana Grande posts a selfie. I’m chopped liver to her.

jan!: JACKIE THAT’S A LIE DHJBFDKH WHY DO YOU ONLY COME IN HERE TO BULLY ME

Jackie: ;)

gigi: jackie’s using emojis we did it gays

nicky: i am a homewrecker. jaida, find a partner and i will flirt with you too

heidi: nicky literally no one asked

jaida: well damn.. 

jaida: hey heidi you single??

heidi: NOT THISIDHDGKJS

Crystal usually didn’t read up, due to pure laziness and the fact that these girls could send fifty messages a minute if they wanted to. It was too much for Crystal sometimes. This time she decided to read up, and she was glad she did. They didn’t try hard enough to hide anything Gigi said, and Crystal was even more excited for the next day.

-

Crystal got up extra early that morning, putting more effort than she usually would on taming her curly hair and put on a tad bit more makeup than usual. She searched her closet for the perfect outfit, and finally picked out a hot pink jumpsuit with purple flowers on it, with a headband with the same design on it to match. 

She loved what she saw when she finally looked at herself in her full length mirror. Crystal knew this was going to be a good day; she looked good, and Gigi was going to ask her out during lunch. She was so excited.

gigi: im on ur street!

Crystal tried her best to mask her excitement as she walked down the hall and out the front door, not wanting Gigi to know she was aware of her plan.

“You look so cute!” Gigi exclaimed as soon as she saw Crystal.

“Thanks! You do too, we match!” Crystal replied.

Gigi was wearing a pink floral shirt with white shorts, and Crystal thought she looked very nice. Gigi always did, but it didn’t appear that she put in any extra effort, unlike Crystal did.

Crystal didn’t let that upset her, she told herself that the way Gigi dressed probably wouldn’t affect anything Gigi had planned. 

Due to Crystal’s impatience, the morning felt much longer. When the bell signaling that it was lunch finally rang, Crystal couldn’t hide the gigantic grin on her face if she tried. Right outside the doorway stood Gigi, and two other girls who were on the cheerleading squad. Crystal found this odd, but made her way over anyway.

“Hey, you ready?” Gigi asked, giving Crystal a quick hug. “This is Rosy and this is Symone,” Gigi said, motioning to the other girls. “I want you to meet them so we’re all having lunch together!”

Realization hit. There was no date, Crystal was way off. She really hoped her face didn’t show her disappointment. She tried to ignore it, Crystal was curious to meet Symone and Rosy. Gigi had mentioned them briefly before, but they must’ve been close if Gigi was introducing them.

“Just with you guys? Not Dahlia?” 

“Nope, she has a dentist appointment.” Gigi confirmed, and the four of them took off to the cafeteria.

Lunch was surprisingly nice. Rosy and Symone were way nicer than Dahlia ever had been to Crystal. Symone liked to paint, and Rosy loved Harry Styles so there was much for Crystal to discuss with them. Crystal didn’t like them as much as she liked her internet friends, but she couldn’t say they didn’t exceed her expectations. Crystal wondered why Gigi wasn’t always surrounding herself with cheerleaders like Rosy and Symone, who were genuinely nice and positive, but that would be a question for another time. 

Despite lunch going better than expected, Crystal was sad that she was so off about what Gigi had planned. She felt stupid, even though none of what Gigi had said hinted to only inviting Crystal to have lunch with her friends on the squad.

-

On their way to Crystal’s house, Gigi could tell something was off with the green haired girl. She was going to get to the bottom of it. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” Gigi asked once they got in Crystal’s room, both of them sitting on the bed. 

“It’s stupid, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine,” Crystal lied, busying herself by petting Tic Tac, who had jumped up to join them on the bed.

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.” Gigi pushed, wanting to help.

Crystal took a deep breath, and let it all out. “What are we, Gigi? We said we’d be just friends for now but I thought you were going to take me on a date during lunch today since you told the group chat about your plan but I was wrong!” 

Gigi had to take a moment to process everything. “I was going to try to clear that up by taking you on a date during spring break.” She admitted, making Crystal’s eyes go wide.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I just-” Crystal mumbled, feeling awful,

“That’s why I wanted you to meet my other friends.” Gigi continued, “I think I’m going to come out to them before spring break.”

Crystal was shocked, “Gigi, spring break is next week. Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah. I need to. I talk to them about you all the time and I think they’re starting to get suspicious.” Gigi blushes.

“Even Dahlia?”

“Yeah, but she’s moving this summer so she’ll be out of her hair soon enough.”

“I think this is the best day ever, honestly.” Crystal giggles, leaning forward to press a kiss to Gigi’s cheek, making her whine.

“No. On the lips.” Gigi pouted. 

“I don’t kiss before the first date, Georgia Rose.” Crystal teases. 

“You’re so stupid!” Gigi huffs, tackling Crystal onto her bed, tickling her sides until she thought Crystal had enough. When Gigi finally stopped, Crystal lied there for a moment, still giggling even though Gigi’s manicured fingers weren’t on her anymore. 

“You’re so mean! I didn’t deserve that.” 

“You’re the one who wouldn’t kiss me!” Gigi whined again, flipping Crystal off.

“Don’t stress. G. Spring break will be here before we know it.”

[viktorrotkiv]

A Perfect Disaster of a Day

Written for @justwannabeafangirl​ as part of the @b99fandomevents​ Summer 2020 Fic Exchange.

Prompt: Stuck at work on a beautiful day

Read on AO3 // My Ko-fi

The first day of June was perfect. Amy woke up half an hour before her alarm clock was set to ring to find a bright, crisp morning waiting for her on the balcony, where she liked to start every morning. She pulled herself away from the view and into the kitchen, still drowsy, to make a pot of coffee. Pouring herself a cup, she stepped back outside, relishing the warmth. She wouldn’t need her robe around the house for the next few months - unless, of course, Jake decided to freeze them with the AC. Which, if she was being completely honest, she knew he would do. He would also get her a thousand new sweaters to make up for it. For now, though, she was perfectly content with the temperature. In fact, she took off the robe and folded it over the balcony railing. Leaning forward and sipping her coffee, she admired the view. It was incredible. She still couldn’t believe they had managed to score this amazing balcony in New York. Sun rays illuminated every tree, every street mural, every laughing couple in a window. A few clean-white clouds dotted the light blue sky, casting shadows here and there on the still-quiet street below. It was a beautiful day. It was perfect.

“Hey.” Jake stepped onto the balcony behind her. “Where’d you get that delicious-smelling coffee?”

Amy turned to smile at him. “Good morning.” She stepped forward and pressed a warm kiss to his lips, immediately feigning annoyance as he swiped the coffee cup from her hand. “Hey! Don’t steal mine. There’s a whole pot of fresh coffee inside.”

“No, I think I’ll just drink this instead. It’s right here, after all.”

Amy’s upset facade broke immediately and she laughed. Jake could always make her laugh, no matter what silly thing he had done right before. “We have to get out early today. This is the first day of Mac’s first real summer – last year he was too small to notice anything going on, I think. We have to take him to the park, feed the ducks, do cartwheels in the grass…”

“Neither of us can do a cartwheel, Ames. And I doubt our one-year-old can either.” Jake chuckled and slid his arms around her lower back, staring into her eyes. “But you’re right. You always are. We absolutely have to take advantage of this perfect summer day. We’ll tell the Captain we need to step out early, send the babysitter home early…” Jake rested his cheek on his wife’s head and closed his eyes, swaying them in place. “We’ll get ice cream… Teach Mac how to throw a ball… We’ll...”

After a moment of silence, Amy spoke, her voice muffled slightly by Jake’s chest. “Are you falling back asleep?”

“Absolutely. Wake me up in twenty minutes.”

Amy smiled and pulled back from Jake’s hold, laughing when he muttered something unintelligible and reached his arms out to her, eyes still closed. “We should actually go in early if we’re both awake already. Get a head start on the day.”

Jake opened his eyes and smiled at her sleepily. “You’re so smart. Now, where’s that whole pot of coffee you promised me?”

*

Their day at work also seemed to start off perfectly. The Captain had immediately given them permission to leave early.

“I don’t see why not,” Holt had smiled. “It is a beautiful day, you both have light case loads… Enjoy the afternoon with your son.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Jake whispered in a sing-song voice as they were leaving Holt’s office.

Amy, grinning madly, shoved him playfully. “He’ll hear you! Now, listen. No trouble today, Jake. We have to leave early.”

“Oh, but of course, m’lady.” Jake made an exaggerated bow and kissed her hand. “Now go kick ass.”

Amy looked back at him and smiled as she left for her desk. ‘Love you,’ she mouthed.

*

At eleven a.m. it still didn’t look too bad.

Rosa slammed a cup of coffee on Jake’s desk. “Hey. I need a favor.”

Jake looked up at her, worried. “Amy and I are supposed to leave in two hours.”

“Oh, relax.” But her nudging the coffee even closer to Jake had the exact opposite effect. “It won’t take nearly that long.”

“If it’s so short, why are you bribing me?”

Rosa stared at him for a few seconds, then looked away. “I need you to interview someone who came in for one of my cases. It’s unscheduled, or I wouldn’t need you to do this for me, but I have a dentist appointment.”

“Okay, sure. What case is this for again?”

“Jake.”

“You’re kind of freaking me out here, Ro Ro.”

Rosa didn’t even object to the nickname. “Some guy is here to confess to kidnapping his baby niece.”

“Oof, depressing.”

“Yeah. You gonna be okay?”

“Are you kidding? Sounds juicy.”

“Jake.” Rosa stared squarely into his eyes. “Are you going to be okay… hearing about a kidnapped baby?”

Oh, thought Jake, a kidnapped baby. Out loud, he said, “I’m not fragile, just because of some stupid baby currently living in my house and feeding off of my wife’s boobs. And I’m deeply offended that you would think otherwise.”

“Fine.” A grin was on the verge of breaking through Rosa’s face. “Nobody said you were fragile, I just want to know that you can handle this.”

“Always. As long as he can talk fast.”

*

“Sergeant.”

“Hmm?” Amy didn’t look up. She was almost done looking over some paperwork, and the officers often needed her for something technical that required her rank. She was used to helping them while doing her own work.

“Sergeant. I, uh… I think I need your help.”

This made Amy look up. “What is it?”

The officer standing in front of her was relatively new. He had proven to be very competent on his own, so she pretty much left him to his own devices. He hadn’t attracted much negative or positive attention, and she didn’t know him that well. “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but you, uh, you smoke, right?”

“Occasionally.” Amy put down her paperwork and smiled at him. “Calm down, Miller. You can be open with me. What is it?”

“I think I have a problem. I smoke, like, all the time now. It’s pretty much sure to ruin my lungs if I keep going like this for another few years.” The officer chuckled. “I mean, I guess smoking always is. And, uh, most addiction books and— and help groups don’t work for me. I need someone to hold me accountable, someone who knows me personally. And I can’t really ask my family, they live in Pennsylvania, and my roommate has some addictions that are much worse than cigarettes...” He chuckled again and wrung his hands nervously. “I know I’m rambling on and on, but I’ve heard you mention using nicotine stickers, so I know you’ve stopped smoking, and I’d like your help.”

“You want me to help you quit smoking? As in, be your mentor?”

“I’m sorry if it’s inappropriate. This was a stupid idea, I just thought—”

“No!” Amy jumped up. “It’s not inappropriate at all. I’d be honored.”

“Really?” Tim Miller’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Come talk to me tomorrow. I’ll do some research, and we can test out some methods.”

“Thank you, again, so much.”

Amy smiled. Mmm, research… “Of course.”

*

At twelve p.m. it started getting worse.

“Wait, say that again.” Jake could already see their perfect day slipping away. If this case was that serious... It could take forever.

“I’ve decided to come forward because my brother is not a competent parent. That’s why I took my niece to my house. She wasn’t safe there.” They were sitting in an interrogation room. Mr. Thomas had asked to talk privately.

“Sir, can you please elaborate? Why wasn’t she safe?”

“My, uh, my brother drinks, and he forgets to bathe her, sometimes even to feed her. When she cries he either sits her in front of the TV for hours, or he calls me. Her mom’s not in the picture, so it’s just him and the baby, and I’m scared…” The man sighed, put his head in his hands. “My brother isn’t a bad person. He just isn’t a very good parent, and my niece’s safety is more important than anything else.”

Jake leaned forward across the desk. “It’s okay, I understand. You have to do this. And maybe someday your brother will understand too. Right now, though, we need your full cooperation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have to call social services. Since you came to us and reported this, and because you have experience with the child, I can recommend that you be given custody. Only if you want that, of course.”

“Yes, that— that’d be good, I think.”

Jake reached over and put his hand over Mr. Thomas’s. “Good. But this means that you can’t back out. You need to tell us, and social services, everything you know. You can’t step away because you feel guilty or you start getting worried, because then this won’t work, and your brother could take your niece back and never let you see her again.”

“I know. I know. I’m prepared to do whatever’s necessary.”

“Okay then. Let’s take your statement.”

*

“Santiago, could you send me that report?”

“Sir?”

“I know it wasn’t due until tomorrow, but I’m sure you of all people already finished it.” Holt had called her into his office, and Amy was starting to panic.

“Actually, sir, I’ve been dealing with a personal matter of one of my officers, and I haven’t had time to finish the report. I was going to do it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to finish it today. The system’s going to be down for a week starting tomorrow and we won’t be able to log any new reports. They only just told me.”

“Oh.” Amy’s chest constricted uncomfortably. Their perfect day… “Alright, sir. I’ll get right to it.”

“Again, I apologize. I hope it won’t keep you too long.”

*

At one p.m. Jake was starting to regain hope.

“Rosa!” Jake almost pushed people aside in his hurry to get to her. Rosa was just back from her appointment, and Jake was rushing across the bullpen. He slid to a stop just outside the elevator and started walking back with her to her desk. “Wow, I’m out of shape… Boy, am I glad you’re here.”

Rosa cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You have to take your case back. It turned a bit complicated, he wanted to report his brother, and I promised Amy we would leave now to take Mac to the park.”

“Oh, sure. Just— what did he want to report?”

“He thinks his brother is an incompetent parent. Social services need to be involved. Oh, and I told him we would recommend him to be the guardian, so you have to say that.”

“I can do that.”

“Great. I took his statement. Someone from social services is on their way here to talk to him now, then to see the baby, and then they’ll go see the brother.”

“Wait, Jake, you already called them?”

“Of course. It was urgent. But this case is all yours now.”

“Actually…” Rose dug her nails into her palm, dreading the news she was about to give. “Actually, if you’re the one who called social services, you have to stay here until they arrive and take over.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s protocol. And you know how Holt is about those.”

“But— but, Rosa, they said they’d be here in a couple of hours.”

“I know.”

“I have to leave right now!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

*

Amy tried to concentrate on the work, but she felt too guilty. She had promised Jake that they would leave early, and here she was, stuck writing a report that would take at least a couple more hours. And, oh God, she hadn’t told him yet. She stood up so suddenly that at least three different people turned sharply to look at her. Muttering a general apology to the room, Amy pulled out her phone, sent a quick text, and marched toward Jake’s desk.

“Hey, Ames!” In her state of worry mixed with determination, she had almost walked right past the person she was looking for. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but I need to talk to you about something.”

“Actually, me too—” He was interrupted by both their phones chiming. “Why did I just get a text from our babysitter that says, ‘LOL, don’t mind, you guys are the best parents’?”

“Not sure, but so did I. I actually just texted her to say we won’t be early after all, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Amy, you’re confused. I texted our babysitter to say we won’t be early after all. I’m not allowed to leave yet.”

“Oh.” Some of the worry left Amy’s face and she actually smiled a little.

“Guess that’s what made her laugh.” At her confused look, he added, “You know, why she texted us LOL.”

“Oh, that’s what LOL stands for? I thought it was ‘lots of love’.”

“Amy Santiago!” Jake threw his arms wide open. “How old are you?”

“I’m joking, Jake, relax. So, why can’t you leave yet?”

“Rosa asked me to take someone’s statement because she had to go to the dentist—”

“—there’s no way that’s actually where she was going—”

“—obviously not, and turns out this guy took his baby niece because he thinks her father isn’t fit to be a parent. So I called social services, but apparently I’m not allowed to leave until they get here.”

“Yeah. Holt would make you adhere to the protocol.”

“Unfortunately. So why do you have to stick around?”

“I promised one of my officers I would help him quit smoking.” Amy sighed. “And then I did research for that instead of writing a report that was due tomorrow, but now it turns out we need to log it in today.”

“Oh, I heard, they’re taking down the system tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Another sigh. “Guess we won’t get our perfect day today, then, huh?”

Jake put his arms around her. “Guess not. But there’ll be plenty more sunny days. It’s only the beginning of summer.”

*

The social services representative arrived at two p.m.

Jake rushed up to the man and threw his arms around the stranger. “Finally! What took you so long?”

The representative nudged him off with a questioning look. “We have other work. You said the child wasn’t in any immediate danger.”

“She isn’t. She’s at home with her aunt. Speaking of which, here’s the aunt’s husband — actually, he’s the one who’s biologically related to the baby — and he can explain everything. I’m going to go now, if that’s okay with you.”

“Actually, if you’re Jake Peralta, there’s a few things to go over first.”

Jake groaned and slumped forward. “That was more a figure of speech. I was hoping I wouldn't really need your permission. What do you need me for?”

“I just need to make sure we have all of the details we need, and then I can officially take over the investigation.”

Jake spotted someone coming out of the kitchen. “Actually, she’s the one who called you! That’s Jake Peralta right there.”

“Yep, that’s me, Jake Peralta.” Rosa’s imitation of Jake’s voice was as terrible as can be expected.

The representative, tired and bored, wasn’t buying any of it. “Detective, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to come with me. You too, Mr. Thomas.”

A hopeful Mr. Thomas and a frustrated Detective Peralta followed the social services representative back into the interrogation room.

*

At four p.m. Amy finally finished typing her report. At four-oh-five she knocked on Captain Holt’s door. “Sir, I’m finally finished with that report. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Thank you, Santiago. I’m sorry your day was hijacked, but you can go home now. I heard your husband is done with his work too.”

“Oh, the representative left?”

“On his way to look at the child now.” Holt looked at his watch. “You know, you could still have a little bit of fun. Sunset isn’t until eight twenty-one p.m.”

“I don’t know, sir. I think we’re both exhausted. Maybe we’ll try again next week.”

“I will not have any of that nonsense.”

“Sir?”

Holt slapped both his palms onto his desk and stood up. “Do you know why I was so eager to approve your request to leave early? It was partly because you are both excellent at your jobs and have enough vacation days left. It is also because I recently took a vacation with Kevin and it was the most fun I have had in months. It’s important to spend time with your partner, and certainly with your child. You are both extremely willing to help others—”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I wasn’t done, Santiago. You are both extremely willing to help your co-workers and you might get held up at work every other time you try to leave early. Look at what happened today! You were trying to do your job as a sergeant, and Peralta was trying to help Diaz, and you missed out on some of your plans. But there is still time today. Take advantage of the few hours left, because you don’t know when the next perfect day will appear.”

Amy staggered back a few steps, reeling from the Captain’s surprisingly passionate speech. “Thank you very much, sir. That was just the push I needed. You’re right. I’ll go find Jake right away.”

“Of course I’m right. Get out of here.”

Amy turned and started to leave.

“Oh, and Santiago?” Holt was actually smiling, for the second time that day. “Have a hell of a time, for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

*

At four-fifteen p.m., Jake was packing his things to leave. As he picked up his jacket and bag and went to find his wife, she rushed up to him. “Come on. Let’s go. Here, give me your jacket.”

“Um, sure. I’m sorry that we didn’t get to have our fun day. If only I hadn’t called social services on my own…”

“This wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t ready to leave at one, either. And your thing was even more important than mine.” Amy pressed the elevator button. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re going to go home, pick Mac up, and ride the subway to Central Park. You know how he loves the subway.”

Jake smiled faintly. “I do. But, Ames, I thought we gave up on our day. It’s too late now, we won’t get anything done. We’ll just have to find another day.” The elevator dinged open and Jake held his arm out in front of the door. “After you.”

“Thank you.” Amy stepped inside and pressed the ground floor button, turning toward Jake. “There are four hours and…” She checked her watch. “Four more minutes until the sun sets. And there’s light even after that. We’re going to eat ice cream, and buy a cheap inflatable ball that’ll lose all of its air tomorrow, and play catch with our son. It may not be half a day, but come on, we only lost a few hours.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Ames, really, but I had kind of a depressing case today, especially since the stupid social services man made me listen to all of the details twice, and I think I just need to go home. We’ll have our fun day soon, I promise.” Jake stepped out of the elevator, but Amy stayed inside.

“Captain’s orders.”

“What?” Jake stepped toward her and held the elevator doors open again.

“Captain’s orders. And I quote, ‘Have a hell of a time for me, Santiago.’”

“He did not say that!”

“He did. And I’m not leaving this elevator until you agree to use whatever time we have left to bond with our son.”

“Okay, now you’re just being mean. You know father-son bonding is one of my triggers!” Jake’s mood was starting to lift, though. Amy could see it.

“I do know that, because I know everything about you. Which is why…” Amy walked to Jake, cupping his face gently. “I also know that this will be good for you.”

“I thought you weren’t getting out of the elevator until I agreed to go.” Jake pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“You never really had a choice. Also, I’ve made my point and now I’m stepping out of the elevator.”

“You feel guilty about holding it up, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Amy pulled Jake’s arm around her shoulder.”Let’s go.”

*

“Oh, I’m so glad you guys are still going to have a bit of fun today!” Their babysitter gushed when they finally arrived home. “Mac has been missing you guys ever since you went back to work.”

“Aww, come here, buddy!” Jake picked his son up. “You know, you’re going to feed ducks today, and watch your mom fail miserably at doing a cartwheel.”

“Actually, you’re going to watch your dad fail miserably at doing a cartwheel. Thanks, Becca, here’s your money.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s so beautiful out there. It really is the perfect day to go outside.” The babysitter waved at Mac and started to leave.

“Well, it may not have been a perfect day the whole way through, but we’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we, Ames?”

“Absolutely.”

The door shut behind Becca, who couldn’t help but smile at how adorable her employers were, and inside, a small family was about to start a perfect day, outside of work.

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 2

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: None

Words: 2,027

“Shit,” Y/N said. Her furious typing came to a standstill. “Patricia, do you have the wite-out?”

Patricia arched her brow at her from behind her own typewriter. “Did you hit the ‘v’ instead of the ‘w’ again?”

Y/N caught the tiny bottle her colleague tossed her. “Why can’t this guy have an easier last name? At least one that’s phonetic?” The feed roller clicked as she turned the typewriter’s carriage knob. Carefully, she extricated the paper without damaging it. “I can’t start anything with ‘Kowlinska,’” she said, carefully fixing her typo with the white liquid.

“I think it starts with a ‘K’,” Patricia retorted.

“Ha-ha,” Y/N deadpanned.

God, she needed break. She’d been working non-stop for three hours. Stretching, she stood and walked across the medium-sized room to look out the window. The streets were full. With a population of ten million, there was always plenty of hustle and bustle. The vendor on the corner was offering pretzels to anyone who came near him.  A little girl ran down the sidewalk excitedly, screeching and dodging trash bags all the way. Y/N smiled, thankful she was now in Gotham. The grime of the city, the variety of people - she wouldn’t trade it for anything. It was miles away from the small town she had wasted almost forty years in.

The sun was already on the horizon, ending the day too early for her taste. She still had a lot of work to do. A status conference on a jeopardy order for three children was tomorrow morning - that file needed to be prepared. The motion she kept mistyping needed to be completed. The shredding needed to be done. She enjoyed being busy, but this week had been more demanding than most. It would be another long night.

“Y/N? I’m getting some coffee. Want some?” Patricia asked.

Y/N turned to her and smirked. “If I drink it now, I’ll never get to sleep tonight, and then you’ll have to deal with me in the morning.” She shook her head and made her way back to her desk. “No thanks. I like you too much for that.”

“Sweet talker!” Patricia called as she walked off.

Y/N leaned back in her cloth chair, eyes roving over the woodwork of the ceiling. When she’d first started at Shaw & Associates, she’d found the intricate office decor intimidating. Fortunately, she’d grown up comfortably, and had been so most of her adult life. But she hadn’t been exposed to such opulence. Now, after a little over a year, she’d gotten used to it. And she was proud to be part of one of Gotham’s most prominent law firms.

Matt Stone, the attorney she worked with most closely, stuck his head out of his office. He was frazzled. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

She swiveled to face him fully and crossed her arms. “Do you have another present for me?”

“I do.” He approached and handed her an expanded pendaflex. It took both hands for her to hold it. “The Wayne Foundation case-”

Y/N’s eyes darted to his, corners of her lips turning up. “You’re letting me work on a Wayne case?”

“Which one?” Patricia interjected as she returned. She blew on the hot coffee she held.

“The case about the abandoned tenements in the borrows? The ones the Wayne Foundation wants to claim?” Matt nodded at the file, hands in his pockets. “The defendant filed a motion to stop it. Again.”

Y/N’s face scrunched up as she opened the file. “That’s odd.” Her fingers leafed through the stack of papers. “Didn’t you say before that they’re falling down? You’d think they’d want to be rid of them before someone gets hurt.”

“Maybe they want to keep the land as investment property. Then try to sell it off later.” He shrugged at her. “Look it over tomorrow. We’ll talk about it in detail next week.” At that, he spun to go back to his office.

Groaning, Y/N wheeled over to watch him as he took a seat behind his large, wooden desk. ���That’ll be the third late night this week,” she said.

Matt waved her concern off. “Do you have something better to do?”

She rolled her eyes and scooted back to her work area. “Not being in the office is good enough.” While she didn’t have any plans, she didn’t want him to think she was endlessly available.

He offered an olive branch. “Well, I’ll owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said over her shoulder. “I’ll remind you at Christmas.” She caught Patricia’s eye, then. “I can’t decide if he likes me or hates me.”

Patricia chuckled. “Both. Definitely. Give me the Kowlinska paperwork. Unlike you, I know how to type.”

Y/N snickered as she passed it to her. “Thanks. I’ll finish tomorrow’s conference file.”

~~~~~

It was past seven she left the office. Though Matt had told her to start working on the Wayne file tomorrow, she’d wanted to take a crack at it. Given the size of it, she thought she might sneak it home to peruse over the weekend.

She was happy to be entrusted with a case from the firm’s most prestigious client. And after working there for a relatively short time. It’s not that she was a fan of the Wayne family - they just happened to be wealthy. But it would be nice to work on cases besides the pro-bono family and child protection matters. She was good at those and was able to process them quickly, but reading reports of domestic abuse was wearing. This change would be good.

The small grocery store was fairly deserted when she entered it. She was relieved, not wanting to take too long. A bottle of wine, a bag of chips, and a frozen dinner for tomorrow would do. As she picked up each item, weaving through the disparate aisles, she smirked at herself. Was it pathetic that she was pleased with her basket of alcohol and garbage? Maybe. But she was fine with that.

Y/N sauntered down the frozen food section, scanning the bright TV dinner boxes. The regulars, macaroni and cheese, Salisbury steak, lasagna, were ones she’d already tried. She stopped when a new one caught her eye: Polynesian Style Dinner. Nothing like fried meat chunks in an unnaturally orange sauce. She’d try that one and pretend she was adventurous.

The only thing preventing her from grabbing it and heading to the check-out was the man standing in front of the freezer door.

She watched him. He hadn’t seemed to notice her approach or sense she was a couple feet behind him. She took the opportunity to inspect him. Well worn brown shoes, dark blue slacks a tad loose on him. The basket in his hand had marked-down pens, bread, and a bottle of seltzer. Continuing upward, she could see his tan jacket was well-loved, soft and clean. His longish, slightly dark brown hair had a slight curl to it, and it looked freshly shampooed. Even though she was in heels, he was a couple of inches taller than her.

After waiting to see if the man would realize she was there, she gently cleared her throat. “It’s hard to decide when there are so many choices, isn’t it?”

He slowly moved to look at her. She thought he hadn’t heard her clearly at first, but the corner of his mouth lifted.

She spoke again, starting to grin. “I think I’ve had every one of these. Want me to warn you off a few?”

A soft huff escaped him. She noticed his free hand join his other on the basket handle, squeezing tight. “No. I get these all the time,” he said quietly.

Y/N gave a short nod, then pointed at the door of the freezer. “Would you mind if I grabbed one?”

It took only a moment for him to open the door and hold it for her. He leaned against it lightly, some panache in his movement. The slight smile hadn’t left his face.

She let out a faint laugh and stepped forward to reach past him, and grab the dinner. “Thanks,” she said as she turned to look up at him.

His wide cheekbones and sharp jawline gave her pause. He looked a bit weary, maybe a couple years older than her. The clear, light green of his deep set eyes surprised her, a contrast from his dark, prominent brow. Those eyes were narrowing as she continued to stare at him.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing and averting her gaze. He’d caught her checking him out, and she felt bad for obviously making him feel self-conscious. “I didn’t mean to gawk at you. It’s been a long day and I’m a little dazed.”

He reached into the freezer and grabbed the same frozen meal. “It’s fine.” She thought she heard him chuckle.

She started towards the check-out, looking back over her shoulder. The man was headed the same way, but kept a respectable distance. As she placed her few items on the belt, she noticed him get in line behind her. He held his hands in front of him, head bent downward as he waited. Y/N paid quickly, giving him a small wave as she walked off. “Night.”

“Good night,” he answered.

Once Y/N was back home, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her answering machine was blinking. She played the messages and took her shoes off. They were mostly mundane: confirmation of a dentist appointment, her sister just calling to say hello and catch up. She was in the middle of opening the wine when the last message played.

“Y/N, this is Matt from the office.” He must be working at home, she thought. “Sorry I didn’t catch you before you left. You’ll need to come to the hearing with me tomorrow. I’m this is last minute, but you know the file well and it’ll make the process easier. Sorry to cancel casual Friday.”

She finished opening the wine and poured herself a double. “Now you owe me two favors,” she said to herself. Taking a long drink, she walked to the television, turned it on, and planted herself on the sofa.

The news was on. “Thomas Wayne has formed an exploratory committee to to test the waters for a potential run for mayor,” the reported intoned. “We caught up with Mr. Wayne outside of town hall.”

The picture cut to Thomas Wayne: well-dressed as always, slicked back hair. His wife and son were with him. “I’m the only one who can help Gotham. That’s why I’m considering a run for office.” He brought his hands up to his chest, gesturing for emphasis. “To help the people of this city. To give back some of the blessings I’ve been given.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Even though she was only now starting to work on a Wayne file, she’d heard some of the legal maneuvers the foundation had taken. Yes, there were good intentions behind nearly all of them. But only a small fraction of those plans seemed to come to fruition. With that knowledge, she thought it was arrogant for him to assume he was Gotham’s white knight.

Deciding it was too late to think about politics, she let her mind drift to the guy at the store. She hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. He’d barely talked with her, as though he didn’t realize how good looking he was. And the way he opened the door with some flourish…  For someone who came across as rather awkward, he certainly appeared to have some grace. The juxtaposition was charming.

Taking another sip of wine, she chastised herself. He’d probably thought she was a desperate creep, staring at him the way she did. She was neither. She wasn’t even looking. But it had been a long time since she’d seen someone who’d piqued her interest at all.

The news broadcast ended and she flipped to Tonight with David Endochrine. Finally, brainless entertainment. She grabbed the folded blanket from the back of the sofa and snuggled down into the couch. She finished the wine and was soon snoozing, still dressed for work.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @clowndaddyfleck

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 232

October 28 Busy day today, as promised! I got up this morning and got the kiddo going on his schoolwork (asynchronous learning day means he had lots of time to work on catch-up assignments) and then headed off to my doctor's office. I lost the labwork order I needed to get my routine yearly bloodwork, so they printed it off and brought it outside to me so I didn't have to enter the office. Doctors and dentists and the like are extremely concerned with keeping unnecessary people out of their offices, which makes sense. At the kiddo's pediatrician, they appear to have renovated an empty space next door into an entirely segregated sick-child waiting room, rather than the simpler left-side-well, right-side-sick waiting room they had before, separated by a wall bisecting most of the room. Now both those sides are for well children and sick children can't come into the office proper at all. I am hoping this is a healthy winter for the kiddo.  But anyway! With my paperwork in hand, I bopped down to the blood testing center for my blood draw. That wasn't much different from usual, aside from a very avant-garde arrangement of chairs in the waiting room that had many fewer chairs, all pointing in different directions away from one another. Routine labwork cost me 26.33, a weird number that included a 20 dollar copay and then 6.33 cents of coinsurance for the various tests. It was a weird number, but at least it was considerably less than I would've paid without our exceedingly expensive insurance. I didn't have to wait very long and the phlebotomist did a good job with me. I asked specifically for a back-of-the-hand draw, partially because I'm a tough stick and partially because I wanted to be able to show the kiddo what it looks like. It was a model wound, tiny with minimal blood and only slight swelling. The kiddo seemed somewhat reassured about his own upcoming draw, but only somewhat.  I went home and showed off my hand and checked to make sure everything was still going well. On the way, I stopped for gas at the new Wawa and got myself a big cup of pumpkin spice coffee with hazelnut creamer. It's the most wonderful time of the year! Also I was very hungry from fasting. Kiddo had gotten quite a bit of work done on his school stuff and my husband got good news from his own morning telemedicine appointment, so all was copacetic. I stayed home for about an hour and figured out what assignments the kiddo still had to do, and then it was off on another adventure through the bridge-tunnel to pick up my auction winnings!  Now I know the natural reaction here might be "You bid on another auction? Did you learn NOTHING from the Takis adventure?" I understand your reaction and the answer is yes I did learn something, but not very much. I certainly didn't bid on any massive job lots at this auction, which was for a beauty shop that had shut down. I placed lowball bids on all kinds of interesting and useful things, was outbid on most of them, and purchased what was left. In this case, that amounted to two large three-drawer plastic storage bins, one small three-drawer storage bin, and nine pounds of reinforced cotton coil. I also got a bonus in that one large drawer was full of a dozen rolls of little-bitty garbage bags, the perfect size to scoop litter into. I won't need to scrounge grocery bags for years!  (Also, the guy who helped me find my items at the auction house definitely remembered me from last time, and I suspect I may be hearing about the takis adventure forever now.)  Your other question at this point may be "what is reinforced cotton coil?" and the answer is that it is very weird and cool stuff. Imagine a cotton ball, the sort you use for makeup or cleaning or whatever. Now imagine a cotton ball that is still the same diameter, but four hundred feet long, wrapped up in a tight coil and shoved into a cardboard box. Reinforced just means that there is a paper tape inside the middle of this long cotton rope, giving it a bit more structure. Originally it's for salon use. It's the stuff they wrap around your head when you get a perm so the chemicals don't seep out onto your face, and something about manicures too, but I have bigger ideas. You have any idea how many kitten butts can be wiped with a cotton ball a quarter-mile long? (I have three boxes of the stuff, so 1200 feet and change.) How many ears can be cleaned? How many crocheted catnip mice stuffed? I'm sure there's lots of other things that can be done with it, and I'm open to ideas. If I get the drop spindle I want for Christmas, maybe I'll try and make yarn from it. So many uses!  With my van once again filled with cheaply acquired auction goodies, I headed back home to impress my guys with such weird bounty and also eat some lunch. In the afternoon, the kiddo had a dentist appointment, which has historically not been a great time for us. Kiddo is not quite as nervous of the dentist as he is of the phlebotomist, but it's pretty close. This was just a cleaning, though, so no shots and no pain and it was okay. He actually did really well holding still and following directions, and he doesn't need anything else for six more months. Yes! I was so happy that we walked next door to Gamestop where he picked out Fallout 4, which was on an excellent sale because it's kind of old now. He can't play it until he is done with his catch up work, but both he and my husband are very excited about it.  Husband made dinner, an experimental spaghetti variant involving crushing diced canned tomatoes with a potato masher, because I was trying to explain to MIL how to attach files to email again. She wanted to send me some documents so I can three-way-call with her and the financial advisor tomorrow, but she couldn't access her own email and couldn't figure out how to move the scanned documents (sixteen pages, each one its own file) anyplace that I could access them. She finally got one good picture of the first page with her camera and texted it to me, and then we decided that was enough for now. I don't know bologna about this stuff anyway, so hopefully the advisor will explain it to both of us tomorrow. The spaghetti was good.  Evening was less busy, which was nice. Kiddo took a shower with minimal complaining, and decided that he really wants to join our online Mutants and Masterminds group, which is two years older than he is by now. I told him that was fine, but he has to be willing to really work on his posts because this group requires good spelling and complete sentences in every post. (This is true, and ordinarily we probably wouldn't have a player this young despite no official rules against it, but we have put thousands of dollars into owning the site over the years and that ought to come with at least small privileges.) I don't know if he'll actually do it, but he's coming up with a character concept and we'll help him build it and see how it goes. It would be excellent writing practice! We'll get started on that tomorrow. 

[pbandjesse]

It's our last night down the shore. Today went to fast. But it was a lovely day. We are sitting out on the porch. And things almost feel normal. 

I could not sleep last night. My back hurt to bad on the squishy bed. It's so nice to sit on but just does not work or me for sleeping. And once I did fall asleep I had really bad nightmares. That wasn't fun. I woke up in a little bit of distress. But soon Jess was up too and things were alright. 

We got dressed. Took our time. My eye liner still won't set right but whatever. We decided to go and grab brunch. But like we also stopped to look in some stores while we walked. It was nice. Calm. 

We had a good amount of wait at the restaurant but it was fine. I ended up having a nice conversation with some older ladies who loved that my mask matched my shirt. I like making friends with old people. 

And breakfast was really good. And very fast! We ate and chilled. And tried to clear the table quick so other people could get seated. 

I felt similar today about the crowds. It's not busy. There are people but more then half are masked. Most are giving space. It could be better but it really could be worse. 

We went in a couple stores and that was fun. But it was getting warmer and brighter. And then we went in a store that had to many people and a few with no masks and we felt uncomfortable and weird. And so we came back to the room. 

It was a hot walk though and so we thought it would be a good time to go to the pool. Once we got inside we changed and called the front desk and they said at 115 we could go up for 45 minutes. They are limiting it to 15 people in the pool area per hour. And that was nice. We got up there and there was a family with a couple kids. Everyone did a good job of giving us space. It was funny to me to watch the kids try to get their toy trunks from the bottom of the pool with their water wings preventing them from going down. And while the water was a little cooler then I wanted I had a great time swimming. And Jess even got in the pool! I was so proud. 

We were up there until 2 and then we headed down to get showers and get dressed again. 

It felt nice to be clean. And we decided we would go play the game I came up with on the boardwalk. We have been sending each other pictures of things we would like and today we left each other and went off to surprise buy some of them. All the fun of shopping. No guilt because it's gifts! 

I had a really nice time just being alone on the boardwalk. I don't think I ever done that before. I had some ideas but I had to find things! 

First thing I did was go get French macaroons. I told the woman at the counter what I was doing. What the game was. And she thought it was so cute she gave me a free cookie. Excellent. 

I went to find this antique style mirror Jess had pointed out. And that was a very funny interaction with the shop guy. He was older. Maybe my dad's age. And we like. Danced at each other? So I walk towards him with the mirror and he starts dancing at me so I start dancing at him. We have a laugh. He tells me the mirror was from his house in Maryland.. I tell him I live there! We go find the shop owner to ask how much the mirror is. Shop owner is distracted so me start dancing and point at the mirror like Vana White. Finally get his attention and he says there is a second one. There was not. Tries to convince me to buy a giant metal pumpkin. I say I cannot. Let's me have the mirror for $15. When I go to pay the original guy realizes my mask matches my shirt and makes a big deal about how nice he thought it was. What a nice interaction. 

I went off and found one more thing. A plush that looked and smelled like a strawberry. And when you flip it inside out it turns into an adorable sloth. I was very pleased with my gifts. 

As I was finishing I saw Jess. And she said she was almost done but had one more thing. So I said I would sit on a bench and wait. So that is what I did. Excellent. A break. 

Once she was done we headed to a little Greek place and exchanged gifts and eat an excellent falafel salad. 

Jess seemed to really like the things I got for her. And I loved the things she got me. She got me a giant gummy bear. A wind up alpaca toy. A pusheen Christmas ornament. And the best thing was a hello kitty surprise box. That one I was so excited about and was such nice quality I went back and got two more. Very cool and I'm super glad we did that. It was a lot of fun. 

We walked the beach for a while. And I enjoyed the ice tea we got. We saw a bunch of weird ocean trash. Dead horse shoe crabs and mermaid pouches. Something that looked like a spine that I'm still not sure what it was. But it was fun. I love the beach. 

I wanted to play a claw machine game. All of them here are play 'til you win. Which is the best kind. I found the one I wanted to play and someone left 2 games in it? And I won two little plushes. Then we went to the next machine and there were 3 games left on it? We were laughing so much as I won 5 stuffed animals. A little girl came up and pointed at one she wanted to her grandpa. And so I made it a mission to win it. And I did and then went and found her and gave it to her. They were super surprised. And then after we started walking we found a family with three kids to give the three others too. I just kept one. That family was super surprised to and was like. Are you sure?? I explained what happened and we had a nice moment. I hope they enjoyed the silly little toys. 

We got another film strip and I played one more claw game,, sat on a bench and watched the water before we were like. Let's get pizza and go back to the room. We were tired. 

We got back here and we've been hanging out on the porch watching videos. It's been hours. But now it's time to go in. We are tired. It's been a long weekend. 

Tomorrow morning we go home. And I have my dentist appointment. But it'll be a long day for sure. I hope it is still nice. For everyone.

Goodnight you guys. Be safe. 

[shorties-unite]

I Might Even be a Rockstar (HannahMontana!AU)

Part 1/?

Summary: Roman is a normal boy with a very normal life who also happens to be a teen pop sensation. Virgil is a normal boy who also happens to have a debilitating crush on a teen pop sensation. Stuff happens I guess 

“THANK YOU GUYS FOR COMING, YA’LL HAVE BEEN A GREAT AUDIENCE. GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY!!” Princey gave an enthusiastic wave as the pyrotechnics let off there final sparks and confetti erupted from the cannons. Red and gold flecks of glitter raining down into the front section of the screaming crowd. He placed the microphone back in it’s place on the diamontie studded mic stand, before turning and exhaling. He loved this post show high. As he wondered his back to his dressing room he always felt lighter than air and his mind prickled comfortably with static. Someone from the crew handed him a towel and He smiled gratefully and tapped the sweat from his brow as he opened the door to his dressing room, promptly being engulfed into a hug. “You were amazing out there Ro!!” He relaxed after a moment into their arms and laughed softly. “Thanks Patton, that’s really sweet but these contacts are stinging my eyes so can you please let go?”. Patton laughed. “Fair enough,” he replied, as he moved away, allowing Roman to reach the makeup table on the other side of the dressing room, digging though the box of makeup and accessories searching for his contact case. Once found, he opened the container, and placed it on the table, already digging one of the nuisance lenses out of his eye. He glanced up into the mirror surrounded by flashbulbs. The reflection staring back at him had straight, fire engine red hair, perfectly styled into a quiff that took a lung damaging amount of hairspray to maintain. Gold glitter surrounded his eyes in a why which seemed haphazard but was in fact a very particular and intricate type of simple-yet-extravagant glam. Behind the glitter peered two eyes, one a piercing shade or emerald green and one muddy brown. Inconspicuous, boring, basic. Nothing special in the slightest. Swiftly, he removed the second contact, sweeping up their container and placing it neatly back inside the makeup case, which Patton had begun to carefully pack away, handing Roman a pair of oversized, red embezzled sunglasses from the depths of the case, which he promptly slipped over his face as someone knocked at the door. “Come in!” he called, trying to muster up as much pep as he could when in all honesty his eyes were burning, his head was itchy and he may as well have been asleep on his feet. Adieu, post stage high! Until next time. “It’s just us darlin, great show tonight,” came the reply as the door was pushed open to reveal a man with long red hair and a thick moustache along with another, younger man who would look strikingly similar to Princey himself, had most of his face not been obscured from view by tinted sunglasses and a large cap with the words SECURITY printed in bold lettering across the from. “You about ready to go?”. Princey nodded and crossed the room to meet them, adjusting the lopsided cyan wig on Patton’s head on the way. “We’re ready, let’s get this magic trick over with,”. 

*Oooooh yeahhh* 

Logan LaMottie let out a frustrated sigh, pointed glare focused directly on his best friend. “Virgil, we have school tomorrow morning and the chances of you seeing him, is completely infinitesimal, much less anything actually of interest”. Virgil rolled his eyes, but didn’t quite manage to wipe the small smile or the slight flush off of his face. “Are you still mad about that Lo?” he responded with a mischievous smirk, earning another sound of annoyance from his companion. He peaked at his reflection in the surface of the chrome pole that segregated the crowd away from the scarlet carpet leading to the black limousine with windows so tinted it seemed almost impossible that even the driver would be able to see through them. “Look,” Logan began again, shuffling closer to his friend in an effort to stop the girl next to him from standing on his foot. “Crowds aren’t my scene, and the really aren’t yours either, can we just go? You can just look up photos of him on the ride home or stare at your bedroom wall for a couple hours or something. You already know what he looks like after all”. Virgil turned to look at him for the first time since they’d arrived outside the stadium, literally hours ago. There was something in his eyes that Logan couldn’t quite place. He raised a hand, combing it through his hair before sighing for what must have been a record breaking third time in 45 seconds. This time in defeat. “Fine,” he replied. They could stay for his best friend to fulfil his dream of catching a glimpse of this Princey that he was oh so obsessed with. In the grand scheme of things, Virgil wasn’t one to ask much of him, so he supposed he could give a little just this once. Even if the level of infatuation his friend felt for the superstar was borderline nonsensical. Suddenly the crowd surged forward and the sound around them increased tenfold. Logan, unprepared for this sudden change in his environment was almost engulfed by the crowd, only saved by his friend sheer determination, grabbing his hand and barging anyone who dared to interfere with their prime position. Virgil could only see the very top of the blood red styled hair over someone else head, but as he moved along the carpet with his entourage following en suit Virgil swore he could drop dead right then and there. Princey smiled a wide, perfectly straight, perfectly white grin as he waved to the crowd, blowing kisses every so often. He now wore a red leather jacket over the silver glittery undershirt he had worn on stage, both tailored perfectly to fit his broad shoulders and slim waist. His white jeans were slightly scuffed at the ankles and knees, torn along the front in just the right places, making the olive skin peaking through appear even more tanned. Large sunglasses obscured most of his face but that didn’t matter to Virgil. He didn’t need to see those piercing green eyes to know that it was him. Right in front of him, if only for a moment. It was him. And the look on his face was something else. It was him, and he was so happy to be there. In a place with so many people he had reached and helped and who loved him for it. And though he knew the thought was ridiculous, that he was just another head in the crowd, Princey was so happy to be there with him, too. Logan found himself staring too, although his expression was drastically different than Virgil’s. Virgil’s face contained the kind of euphoria the he seldom let himself feel, much less express. The kind that would allow him to come out the other side of any awful experience still as peppy as Patton Truscott midway though a halftime show. Logan on the other hand, was completely lost in thought. Part of him was amazed that they had managed to pull it of. Part of him wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Now that he was here it was obvious. The Remus and Roman Stewart did make a habit of acting rather stragely. Micellaneous doctor and dentist appointments pulled one or both of the twins out of class far too often for it to fit to any kind of regular health schedule. Their facial structure resembled Princey's to a tee, excluding his hair and eye colour which could easily be manipulated. For christ sake his first song to take off last Summer was literally called BEST OF BOTH WORLDS LOGAN HOW DAFT COULD YOU HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN. As the star and his posse reached the limousine, Logan snuck a look at his starstruck best friend, then back at the limo as another familiar face with less familiar electric blue hair stepped into the car behind the quote unquote “Rockstar”. “Okay they’re in the car, they’re leaving, time for us to go too.” Logan pulled Virgil by the wrist slightly, almost surprise when his friend followed willingly. He was quiet as they walked back to where Logan had parked, and most of the drive to drop him back home, unable to come up with much more than a couple of breathy half-words as Logan pulled off of the highway and into Virgil’s neighbourhood. He didn’t mind. This certainly was an interesting development, which he hypothesised would more than likely lead to equally interesting results. But first, an adequate circadian rhythm needed to be maintained, and further investigation was required. 

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

A/N: SO hey void here’s the first part of the thing I was talking about a while ago bc I felt like it was too good for ya’ll not to see and also I’m scared it’ll get lost in my unfinished writing tag forever. Don’t expect a part two until at least the end of next week cause homegirl has hella exams, anyway, onto the story and special thanks to the people that helped me figure out a direction for this story in the first place. (@frikijedai @datfearlessfangirl ya’ll are real one’s, sorry I couldn’t make them both miley lmao)

Tags: @nadja-chamack16 

[mushroommouth]

Cassette Side A

I have been summoned.

Another reluctant reunion, but this time the reluctance is not mutual. 

Part 1 of 2 of the Ghost!Jake interludes. 

(---submitted by @corruwuption / 👻)

————-

Jake Pierly was never good at making an entrance.  

An exit? Sure. He has been known to make a—well, he didn’t want to say dramatic, but that may be the closest word to how he’s left various situations. 

In fact, Jake could probably say that his life was more defined by exits than by anything else. It was comfortable, in a messed-up kind of way. 

Entrances in his life were rare. However, they meant more to him than anything else. Dan, Milo Sr., and eventually Milo’s son, became his family. They changed his life more than he could articulate and caused him so much pain and joy that thinking about it made his chest feel tight. They stayed and, despite everything, never left (well, except for Senior—but his presence, as much as Jake tried to swallow the pain and guilt down, never did). 

It wasn’t like walking on stage. Performing was one thing—something scripted and practiced and expectations present.  The real, genuine entrances were about an element of vulnerability. The opportunities where all eyes were on him as a human and a connection could be established or broken, were far and few in between. Jake liked it that way. It was safe.   

So kissing Milo’s forehead and leaving, knowing he’d see him again tomorrow bright and early? That was easy. Jake even remembered to leave a note, telling Milo where he was and would be the following morning. He wasn’t about to wake Milo up—the kid needed his sleep. 

Sitting on the couch, waiting for Dan to return? Not so much. 

It didn’t help that Jake thought he’d never see Dan again. He assumed smashing his guitar was his final act, at least once he was thinking clearly enough to realize the consequences of what he did. But here he was in the encore, thanks to Milo. 

He looked around the room, taking it all in again. Nothing had changed, not really, except the ringing silence that occurred. He wanted to get up and go to look at the pictures hung up in the dining room, but he liked the spot on the couch. 

Jake still wasn’t sure what he’d say to Dan, but sitting here allowed a view pretty much as soon as he walked in. Jake could apologize and then lock himself in his room until Milo came back tomorrow.

It’d be quick. It’d be—fine. He just had to wait. Jake fidgeted with his hands. 

It was getting late. He vaguely remembered hearing that Dan’s stitches were coming out, but it was clearly much later in the evening than any appointments would be scheduled for. Did Milo tell him about the stitches? Did he overhear it while Milo held his anchor? Jake wasn’t sure. 

It really was getting late though. Jake took a deep needless breath and rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the sick feeling that was quickly building up. 

  Think of something else. 

  It was pretty weird being the only person home. It happened before—Milo had school and Dan had to work—but not at this time of the evening. 

If Jake was the only one home, and he’s dead, does that count as a haunting? Jake snorted a bit at the thought. He’d ask Milo and Cody later. What haunted the place more, Jake, or the fact that the three of them bought the place when they were all so young? 

It certainly was not meant to be this quiet. He hasn’t been back in a while, but this wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have left Milo. This wasn’t— 

Jake leaned forward and grabbed his hair. He took another deep breath. His form spasmed for a moment. Milo may have put the guitar back together, but everything still felt off. While it’d take him some time to build up energy and take the form he’d held for ten years, he’d get there. He had to. 

Jake rubbed his face and leaned back. It was too early for him to fall apart. He just had to remind himself: this quiet?

It’d just be for a moment. 

Knowing that didn’t make it easier, though, considering the next sound filling the house would be the conversation Jake both dreaded and anticipated. God, where was—

Click. 

Dan. 

Jake’s form shuddered again, almost fully going invisible in his panic. 

Dan’s arms were full of grocery bags. He gently nudged the door shut behind him with his foot, eyes not really leaving the floor. 

Jake’s stomach dropped. He knew it had only been a few months, but Dan looked older. At the very least, he hadn’t been sleeping. He’d lost some weight. 

He looked so, so tired. 

Before Dan could fully escape into the kitchen, Jake cleared his throat. 

Dan jumped slightly and looked up. 

The most Jake could do was force a smile and utter a single word.

“Hey.” 

Dan promptly dropped all the groceries he was holding onto the floor. His eyes widened as he stared at Jake. 

Jake stood up and shoved his hands in his suit pockets awkwardly. He walked towards Dan, stopping about halfway across the room. 

“It’s…nice to see you, big guy.” 

Dan’s hands went to his mouth. He was beginning to shake but otherwise didn’t move. 

Jake sighed and took a few more steps. 

“I just wanted to say…”

  The newcomer was down. He was knocked out as soon as the guitar broke across his face. 

Jake scowled, seeing he missed his original target. A panicked and delirious Aaron tried to scoot back away from him, eyes wide. His mouth was open, but his jaw was trembling too hard for words to come out. Jake felt his form painfully glitch again as he pledged his last action would be taking Aaron out with him, however possible.  Jake’s shoulders lit on fire as he stepped over Dan and—

Dan. 

Oh no. Oh god no. 

Jake quickly turned around to see Dan, limbs splayed out. And, for the first time in days, Jake thought clearly.

“I’m sorry Dan.” 

Jake knelt down. Blood was already trailing from Dan’s mouth. 

“No no no—“ 

Jake knelt beside him and tried to turn Dan on his side to try and assess the damage. 

However, his hands went right through Dan’s shoulders. 

Jake yanked them back out in a panic. He was beginning to fade away. He needed to turn Dan in his side and check how hurt he was—Dan could choke on broken teeth or blood, or he could asphyxiate— turning him over could keep him safe until someone called for help—

—except he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. And he did this to his best friend. For years, his only friend. 

Jake wailed. His cry began to distort more, but he couldn’t stop. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorRY. I’M sorrY-“  

Jake knelt by Dan. He couldn’t touch Dan, but he could still sit close enough that he could pretend he was cradling Dan’s head. Jake was continuing to fade. He became more transparent by the minute and he was…tired. He couldn’t take his eyes off Dan though, not until he knew that he’d be okay. 

The front door opened. 

And there was their son.) 

“I should have trusted you. You’re my best friend and I-god, I’m so happy to see you’re okay, but I still hurt you.” 

  Tears began to bead up in Jake’s eyes as he tore his gaze away. 

“I mean,” he forced a dry laugh. “I’ve hurt you before, but never like this.” 

Jake wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his suit. He promptly shoved his hands back in his pockets after, feeling the alien sensation of his burial suit. He couldn’t look at Dan yet. The house was still quiet. Jake was trying to fill it with his own voice, but it wasn’t the same. It sounded…hollow. Wait, no. It sounded the same as when he was stuck in limbo. 

“I, uh, spoke to Milo. I’m actually back because he fixed the guitar, which still just—it blows my mind. But I wanted to check on you before heading back to my room, you know? 

Jake forced his gaze back to Dan. Dan still stared at him, though tears were now streaming down his cheeks, too. Jake waited a few moments before swallowing and speaking up again. 

“You don’t have to—I don’t expect you to forgive me. I messed up. We’re all that’s left, and I didn’t trust you and I hurt everyone in the process. Just—“ 

Another laugh, this time panicked, escaped from Jake’s lips. He looked up at Dan’s blank expression and immediately clenched his eyes shut. He choked back a sob 

“Just say something! Say anything, please! Just do it. Say that you hate me and I’ll go to my room and wait for Milo tomorrow but please, god, I can’t take this quiet anymore!” 

Two arms suddenly engulfed Jake in a hug. Dan was sobbing and holding Jake so tight that Jake was sure he’d have broken ribs if he was still alive.

Jake stood completely still for a moment, surprised by the sudden embrace, before returning it. He buried his face in Dan’s shoulder and immediately soaked it, digging his fingers into the back of Dan’s shirt. 

The two held each other for a moment until Dan pulled back slightly and wiped his eyes. 

“I thought you were gone forever.”

Jake gave a watery smile. 

“I thought so too.” 

They both laughed dryly. 

Dan rubbed his eyes again, smiling back at Jake. 

“Jake, things haven’t been the same since…” Dan shook his head. “I missed you so much. All of us did. Milo hasn’t been himself, Dom and Miranda have been helping out, Cody’s been trying to take Milo’s mind off all this, and I-I’ve been a mess. In—heh—more ways than one.” 

“That’s…okay,” Jake said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I mean, that only makes sense. Again, Dan, I hurt everyone. Milo, Aaron…I’m sure I didn’t make things easy for the Bridges…But I especially hurt you. It’s okay to be struggling.“

Jake took a moment to study Dan’s face, looking for any residual scars or bruising that he might have missed at first. Something seemed slightly off, but it could probably be chalked up to the treatment—or maybe Jake was overthinking it. Maybe Dan was just tired after all. Jake sighed. 

“By the way, how are you feeling?” Jake asked quietly. 

“Better than I have in a long time.” Dan smiled. “You’re back, I got my stitches off this morning, got sized this afternoon, bought some real food—“ 

“‘Sized?’” 

“Oh, uh…” Dan rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I told the Bridges I’d get stitches out this afternoon, but I didn’t want to worry them any more than I already had.  The emergency dentist did a really good job fixing some of my teeth—thankfully the front ones were the ones he was able to save— but he couldn’t fix all of them. So now that I don’t have the stitches holding my jaw in place, I was able to get sized! For, uh, some partials.” 

Jake looked blankly at Dan for a moment, suddenly feeling sick, before running a hand through his hair. 

“You could have died,” Jake said dumbly. His form shuttered and jolted.

“I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds!” Dan said quickly. 

Jake just shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair again, stopping to grab a chunk as he looked at Dan. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake replied. “You shouldn’t—under no circumstances should you have been hurt. Why-why would you even do that?” 

  It was Dan’s turn to play dumb. 

“Do what?” 

“Push Aaron out of the way and take the hit, Dan.” 

  “Oh.” Dan looked at the scattered groceries on the floor. “I, uh, promised him he wouldn’t get hurt. You know, while helping me. Plus, I don’t wanna say he ‘turned over a new leaf’ or whatever because I don’t know, but he was trying. And had people waiting for him.” 

He looked back up at Jake with an expression that said he gave this subject way too much thought. 

“And I really think you would have killed him if you managed to hit him,” Dan finished. 

"What if I killed you on accident instead?” Jake’s voice got quiet and low. “What would have happened then—to you, or Milo?”

“I drank way too much milk as a kid for you to kill me with a guitar, Jake. My bones are way too beefy.” 

  Was his cheek broken? His jaw? Both? Jake could see the bruising and swelling form already. No matter how hard he tried, though, Jake couldn’t manifest enough to turn him over to see—

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I.” 

“Dan-“ Jake sighed. “I wasn’t in control back there. I don’t think I remember everything that went down, and I don’t—I  didn’t even recognize you all the way when I tried to hit Aaron.It was what I’ve been scared about for a long time. I was just angry and acting on instinct. I wasn’t…well, I don’t think I was really me. Not this me, anyway.” 

Dan thought for a moment before speaking up again. 

“So, like some kind of not-our-Jake. You came back though! You’ve done that twice now.”

“Okay, but that’s no guarantee I won’t become this…’Not Jake’ again. And what if I get stuck? I don’t have nearly the same amount of energy I had before—or during—that whole thing happened. I was almost all the way gone. It wasn’t until I saw…” Jake shook his head. “Just…promise me you won’t take the big hits, okay? Not from anybody.” 

“But if I didn’t—“

“But if you did, and we weren’t this—god, I hate to say it—but ‘lucky’ again, what would happen?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Milo needs you. You always said I was the one to hold everything together,” Jake smiled bittersweetly. “But it was always you. You look out for everyone, Dan. It’s okay to let people look after you.” 

Dan opened his mouth to reply before shutting it. He sighed. 

“Okay. I’ll do my best. But one thing’s not true about that.”

“What?” 

“Milo needs both of us.” Dan smiled. “We’re together, Milo will be back home tomorrow, and we’ll figure this ‘Not Jake’ thing out, okay?”

  Jake shook his head, the same smile unwavering. 

“I don’t get you sometimes. Wouldn’t being mad at me or even hating me be easier than…any of this?”

“Maybe, but you already said you weren’t yourself all the way. Besides, I’m too happy to know you’re back and okay.”

“I could say the same about you.” 

Dan paused before scrunching his nose. 

“Okay. I lied. I’m still kind of mad that you left without trying to talk about it, especially since we’re trying to communicate better. That sucked. But, we’ll talk it out later—preferably after we put these groceries away.” 

“You got it.”

The two refilled the bags from the groceries littered across the floor. Jake felt tired. He burned up so much energy since coming back, and he accidentally let two bags phase through his hands. He couldn’t imagine how tired Dan was. He still felt weird being in the same room as Dan, especially after all that happened, but Dan was right. They’d talk it out. 

  Jake Pierly was not good at making an entrance. However— 

“Oh, by the way, Jake?” Dan poked his head around the corner, wearing his pajamas. He looked like he stumbled out of bed to tell Jake this, remembering at the last minute, so Jake decided to humor him. 

“Yeah?” Jake rested his hand on the doorknob, his form itching to retreat to the anchor. 

“I will never eat soup again as long as I live. Well, goodnight!”

—Dan may be better at the exits. 

—-

“You’re right! That’s definitely him!” The voice on the other line sounded both ecstatic and relieved. “So Ms. Pierly was able to help?” 

“Yes.” The priest leaned back into his chair, looking at his copy. “She was able to direct us to her sons’ school, where I found a yearbook from his senior year. She also confirmed that her son, Jacob Pierly, did not die in that house. Poor lady. She lost both her sons, you. The oldest died, and the youngest, well…I’d feel obligated to cut ties with him too after what he did.” 

The other line was silent for a moment. 

“If-If ‘Jacob’ didn’t die in the house, what does that mean for…?” 

“It means he has ties to the house, even if he doesn’t reside there.  If you flip to a slightly younger grade, I believe you’ll find one of the two men that were in your house following the most violent wraith attack. One was the younger son of Ms. Pierly. The other is Mr. Fuller.” 

The other line remained silent. 

“It was very kind of you to not pursue charges.” The priest continued smoothly. “After all, I’ll have to check in with them to see if they happen to be harboring Jacob.” 

“Oh.” 

“Please don’t worry. I’ll be sure the wraith won’t bother you or your husband again.” 

[comeback-tomy-home]

The Appointment

pairing: doctor Seokjin x patient reader

genre: smut, PWP, doctor!Jin, medical fetish, medical AU

word count: 6.1k

warnings: this isnt gonna be for everyone! if you like medical fetish stuff then read on :) includes: fingering, cmnf, nipple stimulation, use of sex toys (?), clit clamp, breast exam, squirting (?), slight edging, a dash of angst

You had been putting it off for weeks, convincing yourself alternately that you were too busy for the appointment and that you didn’t really need it anyway -you were pretty healthy, weren’t you? But after a long, boring day at work saw you arrive home to another nagging letter glaring up at you accusingly from the doormat,you resigned yourself to the fact that, sooner or later, you’d have to go to the hospital and have your state-recommended check-up. Ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach,you glanced over the letter and sat down at the kitchen table. For some reason, these things always made you nervous; rationally,you knew there was nothing to worry about, that it was a perfectly ordinary procedure that everyone had to endure once they reached a certain age. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that it would somehow be embarrassing, that something would go wrong, that it would hurt...you tapped the number from the letter into your phone keypad and held it to your ear.

After an agonisingly long time (was it a long time? You couldn’t tell; it took all your willpower not to cancel the call as the line rang and rang), a female voice with a soft accent answered. ‘Good afternoon, Parsons Clinic. How can I help?’ You swallowed. ‘Hello?’ ‘H-hi, sorry. I’d like to make an appointment?’ Your voice rose into a high-pitched squeak and you cursed your nerves. It was just a phone call! ‘That’s fine. Surname and date of birth, please?’ You gave your details, hearing the clattering of a keyboard on the other end. You imagined the woman consulting a database of hundreds of patients, clicking through to find your record and scanning your notes, which probably said the medical equivalent of ‘nervous flier’. She had probably had training to deal with problem patients. Your palms started to sweat. ‘Y/N? I’ve got your record here, and I can see it’s your first appointment. We’ll need to make it for ninety minutes. I can offer you an slot…’ She paused, clearly scanning her electronic schedule. ‘Tomorrow at ten AM.’ You dropped the phone. Hastily wiping your hands on your jeans and scrabbling to pick it up again, you heard her say, ‘Hello?’ ‘Sorry, sorry, I’m still here. That’s a bit short-notice…’ ‘The next appointment is in two months’ time, I’m afraid.’ You were silent. Could you wait another two months?  ‘Miss Y/L/N?’ ‘That’s - that’s fine.’ Your voice was shaking and you could feel your pulse racing. ‘Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow morning then.’

You stuttered a hasty ‘thanks’ and cut the call off, then dropped the phone on the table and rested your head in your hands. It was only a routine appointment. It would be fine. Ninety minutes wasn’t that long. After a few deep breaths,you tapped out a message to your boss:

Hi, fyi I won’t be in tomorrow. Got an appointment. Will work from home PM.

Your phone beeped almost straight away - Seth was annoyingly efficient. You worked for a start-up tech business, one of these trendy places that didn’t believe in business attire and gave its employees free smoothies at lunchtime, so you knew that you could easily skive off for the day as long as you kept up with your emails.

Fine by me. See ya Monday, take care x

Inwardly sighing at the over-familiar sign-off, you put the radio on Channel Six and started to get the ingredients ready for dinner, distracting yourself by throwing an onion in the air and catching it again. You had just started experimenting with backspin when your phone buzzed, the vibration amplified by the wooden table - you jumped violently and the onion rolled away under the dresser. 

Your appointment at Parsons Clinic has been confirmed for 10.00 tomorrow with Dr Kim Seokjin.

Shit. There it was. You couldn’t forget about it now. You scooped up the onion, paused for a few deep breaths and started to make dinner, telling yourself that everything would be fine tomorrow. Why shouldn’t it be? The doctor would ask you some questions, poke around a bit, and send you on your way. 

You tried to forget about it for the rest of the evening; after gulping down your dinner, you answered a few emails, then played a couple of levels of Spade Champion when you could no longer focus on work. Your mind kept wandering back into worries about the next morning, even when you curled up on the sofa with a sitcom and over-full glass of wine. Eventually you turned in, having resigned yourself to a night of broken sleep, punctuated by fretful, half-waking dreams about the appointment. Lying in the darkness, you probed your memories for some event which would give you a reason to be quite so nervous, but as far as you could remember, every visit to hospital (few and far between, fortunately), every dentist trip, every visit to the doctor had been utterly mundane. And, you reminded myself for the hundredth time, tomorrow’s appointment would be exactly the same.

The clinic was spacious and spotlessly clean, wedged between a pharmacist on one side and a dry cleaner on the other, the only new building on the bustling, grubby high street; you were half an hour early. After delaying as long as possible at home (loading the dishwasher, making the bed, scrolling through Twitter), you were unable to sit around any longer and had walked the twenty minutes into town, hoping the fresh air would clear your head. Of course, this had been unsuccessful and you felt your pulse accelerate as the glass doors slid open in front of you. You took a deep breath, stepped inside and were immediately blasted by a gust from the air conditioner directly overhead. The reception desk faced the door and you stumbled towards it, noting as you did so that the woman sitting behind it must have been the one you spoke to on the phone; she was sitting down, wearing a headset over her long, curly hair. The sparkling glass tiles behind her made her look like a mermaid, you thought dimly as she smiled at you, still talking to the person at the other end of the line, then returned to tapping at her keyboard. You stood there awkwardly while she ended the call and turned to you.

‘Sorry about that. How can I help?’ ‘I, er…’ you swallowed. You knew you were blushing and prayed she wouldn’t notice. You tried again. ‘I have an appointment. At ten.’ ‘Is it Miss Y/L/N?’  You nodded, unable to say anything else. She smiled at you again and directed you to the hard-looking grey sofa pushed against one wall, clearly meant to look sleek and professional, its matching coffee table scattered with glossy magazines.  ‘Help yourself to water. I’ll let you know when Doctor Kim is ready.’  You sat on the sofa for twenty minutes or so, trying to distract yourself by flicking through the vapid fashion articles. You chanced upon an article about women in tech and quickly became engrossed - so engrossed that you didn’t immediately hear her say your name ten minutes later. ‘Miss Y/N? Doctor Kim will see you now. Exam Room four, please, just down the hall and on the right.’ She pointed to the door to the left of her desk and smiled at you again. ‘Thanks,’ you croaked, your throat dry. You stumbled through the door and down the hall, took a moment to compose yourself a little, and knocked on the second door on the right. There was a pause, then a muffled voice said, ‘Enter.’

Pushing open the door, you slipped inside and glanced around. The room was far larger than you were expecting, roughly square, with a curtain drawn across the middle, and (in your opinion) far too warm. The doctor was sitting behind a desk angled slightly towards the door, scribbling on a notepad. He didn’t look up, but gestured to the chair in front of the desk and said, in a mildly accented voice, ‘Sit down please, Miss Y/L/N.’

The doctor had smooth golden skin and shiny black hair badly in need of a trim, thick eyebrows and a generous mouth - he was strikingly, breathtakingly handsome, and all the breath in your lungs evaporated. Brilliant. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen is my doctor. Just fantastic. He was also quite a lot younger than you had expected. You watched him writing his illegible notes and tried to breathe normally, clenching your fists in your lap. 

He finally looked up at you and said, ‘Sorry about that. Just finishing up some notes. Now, this is your first check-up, isn’t it?’ You nodded shyly.  ‘No need to be nervous, Miss Y/L/N. This is a routine sexual health appointment. First, a few questions.’ He pulled a clipboard towards him. Upside down, you could read your first and last name at the top of the page.  ‘I have some of your details here… Do you smoke?’ You shook your head.  ‘Good. How many units do you drink per week?’ you cleared your throat to buy a couple of seconds, then said quietly, ‘Ten?’ Really, you had no idea. Who really counts these things, anyway? ‘Are you sexually active?’ asked the doctor, his deep brown eyes on the form in front of him. ‘Now and then,’ you joked feebly, but the doctor said nothing and ticked a box on the form. That bombed. Note to self: no more jokes.

Doctor Kim asked you several more questions - whether you were on the pill, whether you used condoms, if you had experienced any problems during sex - and jotted down your answers on the form.  ‘So - your answers give me no cause for concern, but I need to make sure everything is normal with a physical exam.’

As he was saying this, he got up from the chair and drew back the curtain crossing the room. In the middle of the room was something that looked like a cross between a dentist’s chair and a sun lounger, but clearly very high tech; the chassis was cream-coloured with pale pink padding and concealed, you were sure, some sort of machinery - there was no other reason it would be so self-consciously over-designed. The bed was attached to a large monitor, which was currently blank, along with some wires and other bits of medical equipment you didn’t recognise. A small trolley was slotted squarely underneath the monitor.

‘I’ll ask you to get undressed and lie down on the bed, then I’ll talk you through each step. Nothing to worry about, but do let me know if you need to stop at any point.’  He smiled briefly and continued, ‘Just step behind the curtain so you can get undressed, then. Alright?’

You nodded, dumbstruck. Trying to ignore the trembling in your legs,you walked over to the bed and drew the curtain behind you with a smooth whizzing noise. You undressed as quickly as you could, as if you would lose your nerve otherwise, balled up your clothes and dropped them onto a nearby chair. Thank fuck I shaved yesterday, you thought, then immediately berated yourself for thinking it. He’s a doctor. He doesn’t care if I have hairy legs.

You called, ‘Ready!’, trying to sound confident and unfazed. But you were uncomfortably aware of the fact that you were stark naked and about to let a complete stranger see everything. ‘Lie down on the bed and put your feet in the stirrups, please. Let me know when you’re ready,’ the doctor said from the other side of the curtain.

You awkwardly clambered up onto the bed, which was set at waist-height and very stable - it didn’t shake at all when you shuffled around to position yourself as the doctor had asked. The bed was slightly tilted so that the head was higher than the foot, with padded arm rests and a curved cushion to support the neck of the occupant. It was actually very comfortable. You took a deep breath, noting the trolley of instruments discreetly placed to the side, and told the doctor you were ready to start. 

Doctor Kim drew back the curtain all the way and snapped on a pair of gloves from a box on the trolley, not looking at you as he said, ‘Now, Miss Y/L/N, this is a routine check, so I’ll explain the procedure first and then we’ll get started. Is that alright?’ You nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling. ‘The first part of the check is on your whole body, so that means I’ll be using a couple of the instruments on this trolley to look at your nervous reaction, your receptiveness, so naturally that means I’ll be focusing more on some areas than others.’ Nervous reaction is right, you thought, your heart hammering. ‘Afterwards, we need to make sure everything is working as it should, so I’ll perform a few simple tests on your genital area. That might mean some internal examination. Does that all sound okay?’ You nodded again, unable to speak.  ‘Just relax, Miss Y/L/N,’ said the doctor with an encouraging nod. Damn it, you thought. Clearly your nerves were showing again.

Doctor Kim stood next to the bed and pulled the trolley closer to him, slinging a stethoscope around his neck. Instantly your whole body stiffened as it struck you that everything was exposed. He would see the scars, the moles - everything! You took another deep, steadying breath. He was a doctor. He had probably seen hundreds of bodies, and after all, it was his job. 

Your skin rose in goosebumps all over, the tiny hairs on your arms lifting and you were very aware of your nipples stiffening a little in response. You were glad the room was heated. He’s a doctor. This is his job. you thought loudly. ‘Ready?’ He asked.  ‘Ready,’ you tried to speak normally but your voice came out as a whisper. Turning to you, Doctor Kim kept his eyes fixed on your face, straight-faced and almost stern. He was extremely professional, and his cool demeanour did help soothe your nerves somewhat. He was an expert, doing the job he had done for countless people before you, having been trained for years and years - you were just another patient in his office. 

‘Right, then - I’ll just check your vital signs. This will be a bit cold...’ He stood over you, and having inserted the stethoscope into his ears he pressed it against different points on your chest, directing you to breathe in...and out, and in...and out again. You couldn’t help but notice your breasts moving slightly with the rhythm of your breathing, and tried to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin again when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched you. 

‘Very good. No obstructions in your lungs, heart sounds healthy’, he said, putting the stethoscope down on the trolley and fixing a small, blue plastic clip to your finger. ‘That will check your blood oxygen levels, heart rate and blood pressure.’ He was looking at the screen again, reading the apparently comprehensible numbers, pulsing lines and rapidly flickering letters - you sneaked a look at the trolley. A row of shiny steel instruments were laid neatly in a line, along with a box of gloves, a plastic bottle with a pump handle and something sleek and black. You hadn’t the faintest idea what any of them were.

‘Blood oxygen is at 98%, heart rate and blood pressure are slightly up, but that’s to be expected.’ He had turned back to you and you quickly looked up. He had seen you looking at the trolley, and you both knew it - he smiled wryly. ‘So far, so good - next part of the check-up, now. I’ll leave this on for the time being, just to keep an eye…’ He picked up a tool that looked something like a rake, with long, thin tines bent into right angles and finished with rounded tips. ‘This is to check that the nerves in the skin are all working properly. Let me know if it’s painful or uncomfortable.’ You gripped the arm rests involuntarily. Painful?  ‘Try to relax, please. Close your eyes if that helps.’  Forcing yourself to breathe deeply, you unclenched your muscles. You hadn’t even realised you had been so tense. Relax, you told yourself firmly, and closed your eyes. 

Doctor Kim touched the little rake to your forearm, just above your wrist, and moved it slowly up your arm with delicate precision. It tickled, but not in the usual way - you didn’t feel any urge to squeak and squirm - it was like tiny fingertips on your skin. The doctor moved the rake to your other arm and repeated the action, saying,

‘How does that feel?’ he asked, drawing the rake over your chest, above your breasts, and stomach in a well-rehearsed pattern of straight and curved lines. You tried hard not to twitch when the rake was dragged over your thighs.

‘Fine,’ you muttered. It was actually quite tolerable, now that you had (mostly) got over how naked you were; lying there, on the comfortable bed, in a warm, dim room...Why was I so worried? You asked yourself. This isn’t that bad. In fact, you realised with dawning horror, being stroked all over was very nice indeed - so nice that you had started to enjoy it rather more than you should. The doctor repeated the pattern of lines on your body and you fought to keep your face impassive, but couldn’t help the occasional twitch or pause in your deliberately even breathing. Up the inside of your right arm, over the sensitive skin of your wrists, over your shoulder and down your chest, circling your nipple, a row of straight lines over your ribs and stomach, then tracing over your hips and all the way down your thighs. It’s a check-up. I’m in a clinic having a routine medical procedure, you told yourself again. But you wanted him to keep stroking you with the little rake. Your skin seemed to grow more sensitive with the passing moments, and finally you knew you would have to say something to the doctor - but how could you tell him? On the one hand, you wanted him to continue moving the little rake all over you - maybe focusing a little more on the upper thighs, you thought as another shiver raced through you - but on the other, you couldn’t humiliate yourself by getting turned on in front of him.

Your internal struggle seemed to have shown on your face, as Doctor Kim stopped moving the rake and said, his tone neutral: ‘Arousal is normal, Miss Y/N. In fact, it tells me that your nervous reaction for this section of the check-up is healthy, so we can move on to the next part.’ How did he know? You thought desperately, keeping your eyes clamped shut. How did he know I’m turned on? And then you realised that the clip on your finger must have picked up how much faster your heart was beating now and shown up on the screen next to the bed.  ‘I just didn’t…’ you started to say. ‘Not to worry. Now, shall we move on?’ He said briskly, replacing the rake on the trolley with a faint clatter. You nodded silently, wondering how many people had laid on this bed before you, fighting their growing arousal, not sure what to do or say.  ‘Very good,’ he said, ‘The next thing is to check the reaction to stimulation of your erogenous zones.’  My…? Your eyes snapped open. ‘I’ll combine it with a breast exam. Two birds with one stone, see? Do you perform checks on yourself at home?’ You stared at the ceiling and heard yourself saying, as if from a long way away, ‘In the shower, sometimes. Not very often.’ ‘Well, that’s better than nothing. Arms straight above your head, please.’

You were expecting the same rough pulling and squeezing you had had from the practice nurse that time you thought you had a lump; she had kneaded you like wet dough, leaving you sore for days. Doctor Kim, in contrast, was extremely gentle, employing the same practiced delicacy he had used before; he cupped your right breast in one hand, pressing firmly but gently on the soft tissue under the skin. His hands were warm, even through the latex gloves, and you felt your nipples swelling in response as he moved to examine your left side. Your foot twitched slightly as a finger brushed the very tip of one stiff, pink peak.

‘Seems okay…’ he muttered, ‘Nothing to worry about here. I see you’ve started to respond already. You can put your arms back on the rests, now.’ You didn’t say anything. Were you supposed to be aroused? He said it was normal, healthy even… Maybe you were overthinking it. That would be about right; closing your eyes again and settling back on the bed, you decided to stop fighting and just let it happen. The doctor had probably seen it all by now. Still holding your breast, he moved his thumb gently and deliberately over your nipple and you barely stopped myself gasping as a wave of pleasure rushed through you, starting where he had touched you and finishing in the valley between your legs. ‘How does that feel?’ he asked, now rolling it slowly between his fingertips. ‘F-fine,’ you stammered, not opening your eyes. It was more than fine. Being touched there always turned you on, and the familiar warmth was kindling. Let it happen, you reminded yourself.

The doctor moved his hand to your other breast and flicked his thumb over your other nipple in the same firm, practiced motion, over and over again until you couldn’t help but shift a little on the bed, your breathing shallower. You knew you were starting to get wet and pressed your thighs together. Doctor Kim stopped abruptly and said. ‘Your sexual response to this type of stimulation appears to be normal. I need to ensure that your level of arousal doesn’t drop for the remainder of the check-up.’ There was a clatter of something like beads on the trolley and you opened your eyes to see him picking up an object that looked like two pairs of large, rubber-tipped tweezers attached to two ends of a steel chain. ‘Why?’ you said, eyeing the tool nervously. ‘It’s very important that the results of the next tests are accurate. A drop in arousal could mean that I get an incorrect reading from the rate monitor.’ That doesn’t explain much. What is he going to do? ‘I’m going to attach these to your nipples,’ he held the tweezer-like clamps up so you could see them, ‘they’re clamps which are automatically calibrated to stimulate the nipple depending on readings from the rate monitor. Let me know if it becomes uncomfortable.’ What on earth does that mean? you thought, slightly alarmed. Those clamps looked scary. Is it going to hurt?

You tensed up again, gripping the arm rests hard as the doctor stood over you, opening one clamp wide and holding your breast firmly with the other hand. He lowered the clamp onto your nipple so that it was directly between the two rubber-tipped arms, then you felt a sharp, almost painful squeeze which diminished as the doctor adjusted the clamp. ‘How’s that?’ he said, fixing the clamp to your other nipple.  ‘Fine, thanks,’ you almost gasped again at the pressure.  ‘I’m going to turn them on now - ready?’ He pressed a button on the remote control, and instantly the clamps started vibrating slightly, almost imperceptibly, in a slow, regular pulsing pattern. It wasn’t like the cheap vibrators you had used in the past, overpowered and noisy, but low, deep and utterly silent. Your pussy tightened at the now-constant pleasure; you were definitely wet.

‘Feet in the stirrups, please,’ said Doctor Kim, walking to the foot of the bed with the trolley and pressing another button on the remote. You opened your eyes in surprise as in one smooth movement, the stirrups swung away from each other and bent like concertinas, and the bed curved to raise your hips, exposing your pink slit as your legs were spread wide, knees bent. You had to force yourself not to try and press your thighs together to hide how turned on you were, reminding yourself that this was the point of the check-up. Doctor Kim positioned himself between the stirrups, pulling the trolley closer. ‘Good, it looks like your reaction is normal,’ the doctor said, gently pulling back your lips in turn with one fingertip, making you twitch again as the clamps continued to pulse on your nipples. ‘Just a quick external exam now, Miss Y/N…’ 

You felt him place one gloved hand on your mound, fingers spreading your outer lips apart, and start to probe your slit gently with the other. He ran the tip of one finger slowly up the length, starting beneath the slick entrance and finishing just below your clit - you tried not to sigh in frustration. You wanted him to touch you there, to tease and press and flick his fingertip over it, and the clamps on your nipples pulsed more quickly.

‘I’m going to put another clamp over your clitoris,’ he said, and picked something small up from the tray. He held it up - it looked like an overgrown bobby pin. ‘It won’t hurt. It’s simply to optimise sensitivity by trapping blood in the erectile tissue.’

Despite his reassurance, you were fully expecting it to hurt and held your breath. With one hand, he pushed back your lips and with the other, he swiftly opened the clamp and slid it over your clit, releasing it so that your clit was held securely between the arms. It took two seconds. You breathed out in relief; it didn’t hurt at all, just ensured a constant squeezing pressure that wasn’t at all unpleasant. 

‘I’ll leave that on there for the time being, just to make sure your clitoris gets fully erect,’ he said. ‘Your vulva appears to be in perfect shape, but I need to do an internal exam as well. I’m going to put my fingers inside you - is that alright?’ 

Your pussy tightened again at his words and you nodded silently, allowing the rush of anticipation to dissipate. Opening your eyes,you felt calm, your brain somehow tranquilised - you were no longer worrying about what the doctor was doing or what he thought as he pumped something clear and viscous onto his fingers from the bottle on the trolley. Your body didn’t tense up when he spread the cold gel over the lower part of your slit and began to press gently against your opening, slick from arousal and lubricant. The pressure on your clit seemed to increase as the doctor slid what felt like two fingers easily into you, and the vibrations from the clamps came faster and stronger. 

‘Try to breathe normally, Miss Y/L/N,’ Doctor Kim said, looking at you with his dark brown eyes. ‘I’m going to put pressure on your G-spot now. It might feel a little strange.’ You hadn’t realised how uneven your breathing had become and forced yourself to take slow, regular breaths as the doctor pushed his fingers deeper into you. His fingers were strong and well-practised, probing and then curving upwards to press firmly against the upper wall, and you couldn’t help but let out a small groan as he began to rub his fingers rhythmically against it. He was careful not to touch the clamp but you could feel how swollen your clit had become from the pressure inside you and the regular pulsing of the clamps on your nipples, and you had to force yourself not to buck your hips in time with the doctor’s fingers. It was a delicious tease, and you wanted him to keep going, to flex his fingers inside you until you couldn’t take it any more.

‘How does that feel? Not uncomfortable?’ You didn’t trust yourself to speak without gasping, so you shook your head and suddenly he withdrew his fingers with a soft sucking noise. Is that the end? You thought desperately, and was surprised to find that you were disappointed. Is he finished? Doctor Kim had his back to you, busy with something on the trolley, and didn’t speak for a few seconds. ‘Is - is there…?’ you stuttered. ‘Not finished yet, I’m afraid. Nearly there, now - just a couple more things before I can let you go. Lift your hips, please.’  You obeyed, waves of goosebumps washing over you as your stomach jolted. What now? The doctor deftly slid a square of fabric underneath you, saying, ‘Just a precaution against the bed getting wet. Your natural lubrication is rather effusive.’ The doctor turned back to the trolley.

Never had any complaints, you thought, but he was right - several of your lovers had commented in the past on how wet you got during sex. One had even made you squirt, and as the memory suddenly flooded your brain, the clamps tightened on your nipples, your clit starting to throb. The increase in stimulation made you draw your breath in sharply and the doctor looked around at you.  ‘Everything alright?’ he asked dispassionately. You grunted a shaky affirmation and the doctor turned back to you, holding what was unmistakably a long, curved, matte black dildo with a complicated-looking port on the other end. Your eyes must have widened in surprise, because he glanced down at it and smiled slightly. ‘It’s an automated speculum. We’ve just started using these in the clinic, and I’m pleased to say that they’re very effective. They measure the contractions of your Kegel muscles by ensuring constant stimulation to the vagina and G spot. It can also be used to take an internal ultrasound and a cell sample,’ he said, clearly proud of his new toy. 

‘So, I just plug it in...here,’ There was a click as the doctor screwed the base into a port on the bed, ‘and then insert this end…relax, please,’ Doctor Kim spread your lips gently, applying a little more gel on the tip of the speculum with the other hand. A quiet whirring sound and a series of ticking noises, then the rounded end of the speculum slid smoothly inside you, making your muscles involuntarily clench around it as you gasped in earnest. It was thicker than you had expected, and your pussy already felt pleasurably stretched after the doctor’s fingers. The doctor fiddled with the remote control, muttering something about automatic calibration, and the speculum shifted inside you, vibrating slightly - a very odd sensation while it was happening, but after a few seconds it stopped moving and you could feel a bump on its surface pressing against your G spot. It felt so good to have the smooth shaft buried deep inside your pussy that you began to shift your hips backwards and forwards a little, hoping the doctor wouldn’t notice as you started to ride it, craving more stimulation.

The doctor did, of course, notice. He chuckled and said, ‘There’s no need for that, Miss Y/L/N. Lie still please - like I said, the speculum is automated.’ As if to prove a point, he pressed a button on the remote and the speculum instantly started sliding deeper inside you, achingly slowly. ‘See?’, he said as it began to pull out again, the bump grinding against your upper wall as it did so. ‘I’m going to take the clamp off now. The final check is on your orgasm - strength, duration, bodily response, et cetera.’ 

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out except a quiet groan as the machine continued to pump inside you. You almost felt close already, as if it would take only a few seconds for the doctor to bring you to climax once he started touching your clit. With one swift movement, the doctor released the clamp and the throbbing in your clit lessened to a pulse, thought it felt just as swollen as before. You wanted desperately to come, the clamps on your nipples almost too tight, now sending shocks of pleasure through your body with every slow thrust of the speculum inside you. You felt a trickle of something warm dripping down your slit and onto the fabric covering the bed. 

The doctor said nothing, but with a little more of the lubricant gel on his finger, he tapped your clit lightly, once. Immediately your body twitched and your pussy clenched - the clamp had made it so much more sensitive than you had expected. ‘Very good. Now, I’m going to stimulate your clitoris, but try not to orgasm too quickly. The speculum still needs to collect some data - I’ll tell you when it’s finished.’ You nodded to show you understood, then gripped the arm rests in anticipation. With one finger, the doctor began to stroke your clit slowly, starting just underneath it and moving upwards over the swollen flesh to finish on the very tip, repeating the motion over and over. Your breath was ragged and sharp, stifling little moans of pleasure as the speculum continued to thrust into you. Your mind seemed frozen, all thoughts and feelings gone, focused solely on the ache that was now building deep inside you and the doctor’s fingertip sliding over your clit. 

The speculum started thrusting into you faster, still grinding firmly against your G spot as it pushed deep inside you in time with the doctor’s movements; you knew it wouldn’t be long now. Your head was tilted back, hair hanging over the back of the chair, your mouth open and eyes closed, panting groans issuing uncontrollably from your throat as the machine fucked you. It felt so good to have the speculum stretching your tight hole that you almost forgot the doctor’s instruction not to come too fast, feeling the ache growing in your chest and cunt with the passing moments. You concentrated hard on the sensation of being pounded, goosebumps all over your body and the clamps on your nipples sending shocks through you, trying not to let yourself go yet. You wanted so desperately to come and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer as the doctor’s fingertip circled your clit, making your pussy twitch. 

There was a sudden click and a musical tone, and you looked down towards the doctor standing between your legs - his movements slowed, but did not stop as he glanced up from your slit to the monitor.  ‘It’s finished, Miss Y/L/N - you can come now,’ he said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting as he took in your flushed face.

You let your head fall back onto the padding of the chair and tried to say something, but only a gasping moan came out as the speculum started pounding you, fucking you faster and harder than before, ramming deep inside you. The doctor rubbed your clit firmly, holding back your lips with a hand on your mound and you writhed on the bed, bucking your hips with the motion of the speculum, riding it hard and feeling your orgasm building inside you, your inhibitions gone, shaking and groaning and gasping. Your body tensed, your head lifted off the table and the wave of pure, burning, rushing pleasure suddenly broke over you - you were coming harder than you ever had and cried out uncontrollably, every spasm of your cunt ripping through you as you lost yourself in ecstasy. 

Several minutes later, once you had recovered enough to sit up, shakily drink a cup of water and pull on your clothes,you dazedly sat back in front of the doctor at his desk.

‘So, Miss Y/L/N, how are you feeling?’ Doctor Kim asked, professional as ever. You had no idea what you said in response, and zoned out so completely that the next thing you remember was your phone beeping in the taxi home (you weren’t up to walking, after the morning you’d had), with a text which read:

Thank you for attending your appointment at Parsons Clinic. We look forward to seeing you next year.

a/n: phew. this is an adaptation of a smut i wrote a couple of years ago for my ex, and i gotta say that jin slotted in nicely as the gorgeous, professional gynecologist of my filthiest dreams. as always, thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! feedback is welcomed~

[nope-body]

I had a quiz at the end of the day. Not a big deal, I knew how to do the stuff, it was fine. But for whatever reason, my sister would not stop thudding around. Like. Large, loud thuds, constantly, but with no pattern. So I trying to do this test, and I already have a headache, I’m exhausted, and I can’t even focus to try to think because my sister keeps making thuds.

And the thing about it is that these aren’t just like normal loud thuds, someone is stomping in the next room over or something like that. It somehow manages to be magnified through the floor (I’m under her in the basement) and not only creates audible loud sound waves but also creates incredibly painful sound waves that don’t make a sound but hurt to listen to, which, even on a good day, give me a headache. I already had a terrible headache. So now my head feels like someone’s put it in a nutcracker and is trying to split it open that way and trying to pry it apart with a crowbar another way.

And I still have homework to do and a dentist’s appointment in 45 minutes. And I can’t think. At all. And tomorrow I’m going to be overloaded with homework so ideally I’d do some today, but I don’t know if I even have the time to do the homework I need to do today! Much less homework for tomorrow!