#foot doctor london

[thechelseaclinicpodiatry]

https://www.thechelseaclinic.uk/

Looking for a chiropodist/podiatrist? The Chelsea Clinic is a London-based chiropody and podiatry clinic that operates specifically in South Kensington. To know more, click on the link!

[sayruq]

unicef estimates that a thousand children in Gaza have become amputees since the conflict began in October. “This is the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history,” Ghassan Abu-Sittah, a London-based plastic-and-reconstructive surgeon who specializes in pediatric trauma, told me recently. I met him in the waiting room of his plastic-surgery clinic on London’s Harley Street, and we walked to a nearby pub for a glass of water. Abu-Sittah, a fifty-four-year-old British Palestinian with an angular face and tender, deep-set eyes, has treated child survivors of war for the past thirty years in Iraq, Yemen, Syria, and elsewhere. Abu-Sittah is the author of “The War Injured Child,” the first medical textbook on the subject, which was published last May. In October and November, he spent forty-three days in Gaza, conducting emergency surgeries with Doctors Without Borders. He shuttled between two hospitals: Al-Shifa and Al-Ahli, which is also known as the Baptist hospital. The casualty rate was so high that, during some intense periods, he didn’t leave the operating room for three days. “It felt like a scene from an American Civil War movie,” he said. In Gaza, Abu-Sittah was performing as many as six amputations a day. “Sometimes you have no other medical option,” he explained. “The Israelis had surrounded the blood bank, so we couldn’t do transfusions. If a limb was bleeding profusely, we had to amputate.” The dearth of basic medical supplies, owing to blockades, also contributed to the number of amputations. Without the ability to irrigate a wound immediately in an operating room, infection and gangrene often set in. “Every war wound is considered dirty,” Karin Huster, a nurse who leads medical teams in Gaza for Doctors Without Borders, told me. “It means that many get a ticket to the operating room.” To mark the gravity of these procedures, and to mourn, Abu-Sittah and other medical staff placed the severed limbs of children in small cardboard boxes. They labelled the boxes with masking tape, on which they wrote a name and body part, and buried them. At the pub, he showed me a photograph he’d taken of one such box, which read, “Salahadin, Foot.” Some wounded children were too young to know their own names, he added, telling the story of an amputee who’d been pulled from rubble as the sole survivor of an attack.

[finelinefae]

home (doctor!harry)

synopsis: y/n is homesick and harry wants to help her

word count: 7.7k

contains: fluff, Filipino y/n, doctor harry, medical talk, homesickness, brief moments of discrimination, workplace bullying, rude co-workers

a/n: happy soft girl sunday!!! this is such an interesting and personal topic for me because so much of this was inspired by my mama and her own personal experiences of leaving her home in the Philippines and moving to an entirely different country to create a better life for herself. this one is for all of my girls who are struggling with homesickness, who work in a job because they have to not because they want to, who try to support their families, who work in healthcare, whose first language is not english, who feel as though their identity is muddled up and so much more- this is for you and this is for my mama too.

. . .

‘You have just as much right to be here as everyone else.’

That’s what Y/N had been telling herself since she had left for work in the early hours of this morning. She had barely slept a wink last night, tossing and turning as her mind was riddled with things that hadn’t happened but weighed so much. 

Her backpack was filled with the things she listed weeks before. Her scrubs, a packed lunch, water, a few snacks to eat throughout the day and a couple of things loose at the bottom that jangled with each step she took towards the tube station. On her feet was a new pair of trainers her mother had bought her before she took the plane to a country she had never stepped foot in before the beginning of this month. 

“Mahal kita, mamimiss kita.” I love you, I will miss you. Her mother had said as she dropped her off at the airport. No tears in her eyes because they were all in Y/N’s as she clenched her fingers around the handle of her small suitcase that was just enough to last the first few months out of the three years she’d be living away from her family. 

“Mama,” Y/N cried, her family weren’t criers but today she was. 

Y/N’s mother shook her head, refusing to allow herself to cry when this was meant to be good. “Gagawa ka ng mga magagandang bagay.” You will do such good things. Her mother wiped away her tears, “Mananatili pa rin ako dito sa loob ng tatlong taon at magiging mas mahusay ka.” I will still be here in three years and you will be someone better. 

Y/N was homesick as soon as the plane lifted off the ground of her home country. The trouble with planes was the window was always too small and she could only ever look down and not behind. Once they flew over her country of the Philippines, she took in everything she possibly could - the bright colours of the sea and the sand on the beaches that stretched for miles. 

She would come back and she would be better, for her family. 

As she stepped off of the tube train and walked up the steps towards the light, she took the sunshine peeking through the gaps of the grey clouds in the London sky as a good sign. Even though things weren’t easy, it doesn’t mean they were bad. 

The hospital was huge in comparison to the hospitals where she had done her training back home. It took her a while to find where the entrance was without going in through the emergency department but eventually, she found her way to the front desk. 

"Hi," Y/N said softly, feeling unsure. Even though she was good at English after years of studying it during school, she still doubted herself, especially around fluent speakers. It made her feel embarrassed and more of an outsider than she already was. “I’m Y/N, I’m here to pick up my ID badge.” 

The woman at the desk, peered over her glasses and smiled, “Is today your first day?” 

“Yes, I’m a healthcare assistant,” Y/N offered a smile, as best as she could despite her nerves. 

The woman’s fingers clacked against the keyboard, “I’m afraid your ID badge has yet to be delivered so I’ll have to give you a temporary one.” 

Y/N’s smile faltered, “Oh okay,” 

“Let me print one out for you, I’ll be right back.” The receptionist slid off her chair. 

Y/N stood to the side, her eyes darting around the hospital. There were many healthcare workers already at work, pushing patients around in wheelchairs or walking in pairs down huge corridors. She gripped the strap of her backpack, her palms sweating. 

Suddenly, a man stepped up to the desk beside her, reaching over to grab a clipboard and a pen. He was wearing a white shirt with a stethoscope around his neck. Y/N’s eyes narrowed on his badge, seeing the word ‘Doctor’ written in bold. 

"Can I help you?" he asked in a detached tone, his attention elsewhere.

Y/N hesitated, noticing his lack of focus. "Um, no, I'm just waiting," she stammered.

He scoffed dismissively. "Typical," he muttered, setting the clipboard back down and finally turning to face her.

Y/N was taken aback by his striking appearance. Her breath caught as she met his gaze, momentarily forgetting her surroundings. His features were chiselled, framed by dark hair that fell effortlessly across his forehead. But it was his piercing eyes that held her captive, a mesmerising shade of green that reminded her of the leaves off the mango trees that grew in her hometown. 

His gaze found hers, and she noticed the subtle parting of his lips as his eyes settled on her. There was a softness in his gaze, a gentle relaxation evident in the way his shoulders eased down. Maybe it was from how frightened she looked as her gaze landed on everything around her but his voice was softer now, a hint of concern evident beneath the initial hardness, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly as she regained her composure. "Uh, no, I'm fine, thank you," she managed to reply, feeling a flutter in her chest at the unexpected kindness in his tone.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “Well alright then. I know how hard first days can be so if I see you around, don’t worry about asking me for help.”

“Oh uh, thank you…Doctor,” Y/N replied, taken aback by his kindness. 

“Y’ can call me Harry,” She noticed a dimple appear when he smiled. His eyes were fixed on her for a beat before he pointed to his name badge and continued, “S my name y’ see.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile and a little giggle escaped her, “It’s a nice name.”

“What’s your name?” Harry asked but was interrupted by the receptionist returning.

“Good morning Doctor Styles,” She greeted as she sat back at the desk.

“Good morning Hannah,” Harry replied, his eyes darting from Y/N to Hannah.

The woman slid the badge over to Y/N. It was a printed-out copy of the badge she was supposed to have gotten, laminated and whole-punched to a lanyard. Y/N took it between her fingers and read her name on it, her eyebrows furrowing. “Um, I think my last name is spelt wrong,” Y/N said, it would be fine if it was a small spelling mistake but it may as well be a completely different name with the way it had been spelt. 

“Sorry?” Hannah’s smile faltered. 

"U-um, my last name is spelled wrong. I-I'm sorry, I don't want to be such a pain," Y/N stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she handed the lanyard back to the receptionist.

The receptionist glanced at the name badge, and then back at Y/N. "Oh, it must be because it's such a complicated name. I must have spelt it wrong on the computer. Are you sure you can't just use it? Only until your ID comes in?"

Y/N felt a sinking feeling in her chest. She hated confrontation or being an inconvenience, but she had already given up so much for a better life here. She couldn't give up her name too. "But it's my name," she insisted softly, her voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and determination.

Just as the receptionist's mouth opened to respond, the Doctor, who had been silently observing, cleared his throat. "Hannah, I think it would be better if we give Y/N the correct name on her own ID badge, don't you think?" He interjected gently, coming to Y/N's aid without hesitation. “The whole point of it is to let people know who we are, we wouldn’t want people getting Y/N’s name wrong on her first day would we?”

Hannah frowned and Y/N could tell she wasn’t happy, “Right, I’ll be right back.” 

Y/N released a sigh, putting a hand to her forehead, “Thank you, Doctor Styles.” She said even though she was extremely embarrassed. 

“Hey it’s Harry,” He smiled, “And you were right to argue with her, ‘s your name which is beautiful by the way.”  Y/N's cheeks flushed even deeper at his compliment, but she managed a shy smile in return, feeling a sense of gratitude for Harry's kindness and support. “Don’t let these people push you around. You have just of a right to be here as everyone else.”

Y/N’s lips parted as he spoke the words she had been repeating to herself since she woke up. Y/N watched him go, her heart still racing at the unexpected encounter, a newfound warmth spreading through her as she resumed her wait in the bustling hospital corridor. 

Hannah soon returned with an annoyed look on her face as she handed Y/N her temporary badge with her name written correctly. She thanked her and walked away already having gained a possible enemy but maybe a possible friend too. 

 . . .

“I don’t want her as my nurse,” An elderly patient said midway through the day as they were serving lunch. 

Y/N had been in her scrubs for five hours, with another seven to go. Her feet ached from standing all day, attending to the patients that had been assigned to her at the start of the day. While some of the other healthcare workers had been welcoming, she couldn't ignore the clear divide between them. They tended to gather in separate groups and have their own cliques going on amongst them, but Y/N appreciated their support as she adjusted to her new role, minding her own business as she did. 

“Margot,” Layla, another healthcare assistant, spoke to the eighty-year-old woman who was laying in bed waiting for her lunch to be fed to her, “Y/N’s a new healthcare assistant, she’s just going to be feeding you lunch.”

“I don’t want her,” Margot protested, “I want someone else.”

Y/N's gaze dropped, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. She had been expecting this to happen at some point but she didn’t think it would happen so soon. "It's alright, Layla. I'll take over your tasks," Y/N offered quietly, not wanting to make a scene.

Layla's eyes softened with sympathy. "She's not usually like this," she whispered.

Y/N nodded, her resolve firm as she gathered her belongings to assist elsewhere. "No problem," she replied with a shrug, masking her hurt.

"C'mon, Margot," Layla urged gently, collecting the tray of hot lunch.

"I don't want a foreigner feeding me," Margot muttered sharply, her words stinging the air.

Y/N’s eyes stung as she left the room. She thought she had been lucky with her patient’s today and the majority of them had been rather lovely. They’d been interested in Y/N’s life, noticing her olive-toned complexion and black hair and asking her where she came from. The question allowed her to reminisce on her time back home and describe the foods and the environment she grew up with but it was only so long before she came across someone who didn’t care - seeing her as nothing more than a stranger in a foreign land that never quite felt like home.

Y/N took three deep breaths before stepping into the wing to cover Layla's shift for an hour. She knew she needed to shake off the hurt from the recent encounter, hoping that immersing herself in work would help ease the discomfort. 

Three other women were working on the ward when Y/N entered the room. They were sitting in the corner on plastic chairs, sharing a phone screen as some show played. One of them turned when they noticed Y/N was in the room which caused the other two to follow. 

“Hello,” Y/N spoke, timidly, “I’m here to help out Layla for a little while.” 

The women exchanged knowing glances, their expressions morphing into smirks. One of them, the apparent leader of the group, sneered as she replied, "Oh, great. About time someone else did some work around here. Layla's been slacking off all morning." 

“Really?” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, Layla had been very kind to her just moments ago. 

“Yeah,” The leader replied, her lips smacking together as she chewed on a piece of gum, “You can start by feeding those three their lunches.” She pointed her finger towards three patients lying in their beds. 

“All three?” There were only six beds in the room. 

“Is there a problem?” The woman folded her arms, the other two trying not to laugh behind her. 

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “No there is not.”

Y/N rolled up her sleeves and got to work, trying to spoon-feed all three patients as the other girls sat in the corner continuing to watch their show. Despite the mocking gaze of her co-workers, Y/N was fully determined to prove to herself that she could get through this. She needed to just put her head down and remind herself that this was for the better - the money would be worth it at the end of the month and she’d have enough to send to her family back home too. 

As Y/N sat with the last patient, one of the ladies stood up to go and tended to another one. “Janice,” She cooed, walking over to the side of the bed where an elderly woman lay asleep, “Janice wake up love,” She squeezed her hand, “Janice?”

Y/N’s head shot in their direction, her eyes falling on Janice who wouldn’t wake up. She dropped the bowl of food on the side table and rushed over, “Hello Janice? Can you hear me?” The lady asked as Y/N put her ear to her mouth to see if she was breathing. 

“She’s unconscious,” Y/N stated, “Her throat is blocked, did you feed her?”

The woman’s eyes were wide, “I-I-”

“Call the doctor,” Y/N instructed one of the other girls who immediately pressed the red button to alert the emergency services. 

“We don’t have enough time,” Y/N muttered, “Get me a tracheostomy tube.”

“We don’t have authorisation to-”

“I can do it, I’ve done it before, please.” Y/N’s adrenaline was running high but she remained calm on the surface, it was what she had been trained to do. 

The woman hurried over with a tube, and Y/N wasted no time. With steady hands, she performed a tracheostomy to create an emergency airway for Janice. Time seemed to blur as Y/N worked quickly and efficiently.

Minutes later, as Y/N finished, the doctor entered the room, taking in the scene with great concern and alertness on his face. “Where’s the emergency?” It was Doctor Styles, Y/N recognised him by his voice. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, even though the patient had been saved and was able to breathe better, it wasn’t protocol to allow Healthcare assistants to perform such an intricate procedure that could so easily go wrong. She could be in big trouble for this and it was only her first day. 

“Janice was unconscious, she was barely breathing,” One of Y/N’s co-workers explained.

Harry approached the patient, his eyes widening in disbelief as he realised what Y/N had done. "You did this?" he asked his tone a mix of astonishment and concern.

Y/N looked up, her stomach churning with dread. She could already picture the disappointment on her mother's face for potentially jeopardising her job on the first day. "I was trying to-"

"Do you realise how dangerous this procedure is?" Harry's voice cut through her explanation.

Y/N's gaze fell to the ground, her throat tightening with guilt. "Yes, I do."

"She could have died," Harry stated, his tone grave.

"I know, but I-" Y/N began, her words faltering.

"You saved her life," Harry's interruption caught Y/N off guard, her head shooting up to meet his gaze. For the first time, she saw the awe and shock reflected in his eyes.

“How did you know how to do it?” Harry asked, genuine curiosity evident in his tone.

“I learnt it during my training,” Y/N explained, her nerves still on edge.

“You just learnt it?” Harry chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to the other women in the room. "And what were you three doing when this happened?"

“W-well, we've yet to learn that procedure, Doctor Styles,” one of them spoke up, the rest nodding along in agreement.

Harry rolled his eyes, his attention returning to Y/N. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Truly remarkable,” he said, his gaze fixed on her. 

. . .

Y/N was exhausted at the end of her shift. Her bag was still packed, her lunch and snacks untouched, because she had been on her feet all day. Her skin felt sticky underneath her sweatshirt, she couldn’t wait to shower once she got back to the house. 

As she left the hospital, she inhaled the fresh air and felt the cool breeze against her flushed face.  She needed to get the tube station back to her boarding house but she was grateful to finally have a few hours away from the scent of disinfectant and rude co-workers. 

“Y/N!” Y/N spun on her heel as she heard the call of her name, turning to see Doctor Styles pacing towards her. It was the first time today she had seen him wearing glasses. 

“Doctor Styles, I thought you would be at home already,” She smiled as best as she could despite feeling much too tired to do so. 

“No, I still have a few hours to go.” He replied, that dimple and sparkle in his eye returning to his equally tired face. “I caught you walking out and left my office to come speak to you. I was really impressed by what you did today. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen a healthcare assistant do that under such pressure.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Y/N was terrible at taking compliments, even more so when she was tired.

“It was everything. You saved a woman’s life.” Harry stated. 

"Right," Y/N murmured, her mind still reeling from the events of the day and Harry's constant acknowledgement.

A brief moment of silence fell between them as Harry looked as though he was trying to speak but didn’t know how to word it properly, “Listen I…forgive me if I’m being too forward but would you maybe want to grab something to eat with me one night, maybe, I don’t know. If you want to of course, no pressure, and if you have a boyfriend that’s okay too but is it okay if you don’t tell me because that would be incredibly kind towards my pride.”

For the first time today, Y/N released a genuine laugh as he finished his rambling. “You’re not like the boys back home.” She said after she had composed herself. 

Harry frowned, “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s refreshing,” She told him, it was nice to experience something new and it be a good thing for once. “I will go out with you Harry.” 

A smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips, despite his attempt to suppress it by biting his bottom lip. He rubbed his hand over his mouth in a futile effort to conceal his grin, but the crinkles around his eyes and the dimples on his cheeks betrayed his amusement. "Okay," he chuckled softly, unable to contain his delight. "That’s good."

“I have an afternoon off in three days time, is that okay?” He asked eagerly, wanting to see her as soon as possible.

“I would like that,” she says, her voice filled with anticipation. “A lot actually.”

Their gazes locked for a brief moment. “Well, I should probably get going,” Y/N said, breaking the silence.

“Yes, of course. Can I give you my number first? I can text you the details later if that’s okay,” Harry asked, pulling his phone out of his back pocket.

“Oh, sure,” Y/N replied, taking out her phone, which only had her family’s numbers saved in it.

Harry quickly typed his number into Y/N's phone before handing it back to her with a warm smile. “I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I’m here tomorrow.” Harry walked backwards towards the hospital entrance, smiling and shaking his head before turning his back to her.

Y/N was in disbelief as she began her journey home. She couldn't shake the feeling of surprise that someone like Harry would want to go on a date with her. Dating wasn't even on her radar when she arrived; she had suspected that no man would find her attractive because of how she looked - she wasn’t really deemed the stereotypical female in Western society. But Harry's genuine interest had shattered those doubts. As she navigated through the bustling streets, a newfound sense of confidence began to bloom within her. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something wonderful and a new distraction from her overwhelming life. 

. . .

Harry had been eyeing the clock all morning. 

“Have somewhere to be?” Niall, his co-worker, asked, having seen him glued to the clock. 

“Something like that,” Harry mumbled. 

With just an hour left of his shift, Harry couldn't shake the anticipation of taking Y/N out for dinner tonight. She had been occupying his thoughts incessantly for the past three days. The golden hue of her skin and the soft, round features of her face had etched themselves into his mind. He found himself mesmerised by the almond shape of her eyes, their deep brown colour reminiscent of a shot of espresso in the morning. 

He loved the melodic, soft tones of her voice and the way she spoke with an accent that brought life into the usual boring words people spoke to him every day. He thought about how her cheeks would tinge pink whenever she’d start speaking, how shy she was whenever he’d praise her or how expressive her eyes were whenever she wasn’t talking. 

He was a Doctor and knew all the ways in which the mind and body worked but he was beginning to question his beliefs since he had met Y/N because he was pretty sure he had fallen in love at first sight. 

Everything about her had been on his mind and he was desperate to find out all that he possibly could about the quiet, shy healthcare assistant who saved the life of a woman on her first day. 

Interrupting the images of Y/N that had been playing in his mind, was the sound of the buzzer to the emergency department. Harry sat up at the same time as Niall who was already standing to his feet to go and see what the problem was. He sighed, hoping for time to hurry up so the evening would arrive much sooner. 

“Hey it’s me,” Harry sighed a heavy sigh into the phone as he held it against his ear, sitting in his car in the staff parking area of the hospital many hours later. His forehead was pressed against the steering wheel as tiredness and guilt laced within him.

“Hello Harry,” Y/N’s soft voice rang through the speaker, soothing a piece of him that was just so tired, “Is everything okay?”

Harry’s eyes squeezed shut, “You’re probably going to hate me for this but is there any chance we can reschedule? Something came up at work and I’ve only just come out.” He was five hours overtime after a family had been rushed into the emergency room after an accident. 

He swallowed as he waited for her to reply, “Oh,” She said and the small remark made him feel even more guilty than he already felt. 

“I’m sorry,” He hated himself because it was all he had been looking forward to.

“Harry,” Y/N said his name, “It’s okay. I’ve worked in enough hospitals to know these things happen. Of course, we can go at another time but are you okay?”

He released a long breath at the question, “No not really,” it was the truth and another reason why he needed to reschedule the date. He had seen some pretty tough things today and it weighed heavily on his mind. 

“Have you eaten?” Y/N asked, concern in her voice. 

His eyes stung, his head falling back against the headrest, “No I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” 

Y/N sighed over the phone, “Do you live close by?”

“I live about ten minutes from the hospital,” He told her, wondering why she would ask. 

“Is it okay if I come by?” She asks, “I mean it’s okay if not.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped, “That actually sounds really nice.”

The fact that Y/N would be visiting him at his home seemed to ease the weight of the long day from Harry's shoulders. With a faint smile playing on his lips, he leaned back in his seat, feeling a hint of anticipation at the thought of her company.

When Harry got home, he saw how messy his apartment was. Feeling a sudden jolt of energy, he quickly picked up his laundry off of the floor and threw dirty dishes into the dishwasher. He took a moment to straighten up the living room and fluff the cushions on the couch. Trying to make everything look cleaner than it actually was in order to impress her. 

His buzzer rang and he quickly went to answer it, allowing her to come up as his heart raced in his chest. With one last glance around the room, he swiftly nudged something under the coffee table before reaching the door just as she knocked.

Harry felt all the tiredness from his body lift when he opened the door and found her standing there with a plastic carrier bag in her hands. She was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt, her hair tied up in a ponytail and her face make-up free. 

“Hey,” He breathed, a piece of him settling when he laid eyes on her, “Thank you for coming here.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” She smiled and walked past him after he moved to the side to let her in. 

Her eyes were wide as she took in his apartment, “This is a lot better than the boarding house.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “You’re living in a boarding house?”

She nodded, “Only until I can find my own place to live. It was what the company who transferred me here offered when I applied.” 

“I see,” Harry realised he was still in his uniform except his shirt was untucked and his tie was loose around his neck. 

Y/N placed the plastic bag on the kitchen counter, “I bought some things to make you since you didn’t eat. How about I start cooking and you can get changed?” 

Harry scratched the back of his neck, “I-I hope you don’t think I invited you over to cook for me Y/N. I actually really just wanted to see you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, “It’s okay, I enjoy cooking and maybe it’s my excuse to see you too.”

He took a step forward, “If I had known you had been waiting to find an excuse I would have invited you over much sooner.” 

She shifted under his gaze, biting her lip to stop her smile, “Go get dressed,” She ordered and Harry grinned, it was the first time he had seen her act so assertively. 

He took a thirty-minute long shower, scrubbing off the remains of the day from his skin. He wore a grey sweatshirt and sweatpants, drying his hair with a towel as he re-entered the kitchen to find Y/N already plating up the food she had made. 

The kitchen was an aroma of fragrances Harry had never smelt before. His mouth watered as Y/N spooned rice onto plates and picked up the saucepan to bring to the kitchen island. “This smells amazing,” Harry sat on one of the stools, picking up a knife and fork. 

“It’s called chicken adobo,” Y/N informs him, “It’s a traditional dish of the Philippines, my mama used to make it for me and my sister when we’d come in from school.” 

Harry listened intently, “That’s where you’re from?” 

Y/N smiled, “It’s my home.” She took Harry’s plate and spooned some of the chicken on top of the rice before doing the same for herself, “I hope you don’t mind but I use my hands to eat,” 

Harry lowered his knife and fork, “Really?”

“Mhm,” Y/N picked up some of the rice and chicken with her fingers,  “It’s called Kamayan. It’s meant to help appreciate the flavours and textures of the food we make or are served.”

Harry looked genuinely interested as Y/N ate the food pressed into her hand, “Can I try?”

Y/N paused chewing on her food, not expecting him to want to try something that in many Western cultures might be considered bad manners. She quickly swallowed it down and nodded, “Of course.” 

Harry pursed his lips as he concentrated on gathering the rice and chicken into his hands. He felt the stickiness of the rice as he pressed it with his fingers. It wasn’t as graceful as Y/N had done as he attempted to put it all into his mouth. He chewed on the chicken, his taste buds tingling at the new flavour. 

Swallowing it down his eyes brightened, “It’s delicious!”

Y/N’s eyes crinkled, “Yeah? You think so?”

“I’ve never eaten with my hands before but it feels quite liberating.” He chuckles.

Y/N laughs, “My mama always told us to eat with our hands.” 

Harry repeated the action, scooping the perfect serving into his hand and eating it, “Where did you live when you lived in the Philippines?”

“I grew up in Roxas City- it’s on one of the many islands and it’s beautiful. The beaches stretch for miles and the water is so blue and clear you can see your feet walking along the bottom.” Harry watched as Y/N explained animatedly what her home country was like. Her words brought the images to life in his mind as he pictured her walking along the beaches. 

He was happy to see her relax into conversation the more questions he asked about her home, “What made you want to come here to work?”

Y/N’s smile faltered and Harry wished he could take back the question but she answered, “My family aren’t wealthy and I always knew I would have to leave at some point to go out and make enough money to bring back for them so we could have a better life. I trained in healthcare so I could come here and work.” 

Harry's expression softened, concern evident in his eyes. "Has it been difficult?" he asked gently. He knew it might sound like a cliché question, but he genuinely wanted to make sure she was coping okay. It must be incredibly difficult having to leave everything you know for something completely different. 

“I’m so homesick,” Y/N’s eyes watered, “Every day I go back to that boarding house and count down the days until I can go home again. I-I thought I knew English before coming here but it’s so difficult to understand when people are talking so fast and expecting you to know what they’re saying.” Harry grabbed a tissue and passed it to her. She took it in her hands and gave him a watery smile, “I miss my mama and my sister and the sun. London is so grey.” 

Harry reached out a hand and gripped her fingers, squeezing them gently, “Hey, you’re doing so good Y/N.” He started, “You’re so unbelievably brave for coming here and starting this new life. I mean I couldn’t do what you’re doing - I get homesick even when my mum lives ten minutes away,” Y/N laughs and the sound sparks something inside of him, even when she was crying she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life, “You should be so proud of yourself and I know your family is proud of you too.”

Y/N’s watery eyes looked into his, “Thank you,” She whispered, “This is the first time I’ve stepped outside my house other than to get that stupid train to work.” 

“Seriously?” Harry was shocked, no wonder she was feeling so trapped and cooped up. 

Harry glanced at their two empty plates before giving her hand a tight squeeze, “C’mon,”

“What-” Y/N watched as he grabbed his jacket and car keys.

“Let me take you somewhere,” He insisted, his voice warm and inviting. 

“But it’s dark outside?” Y/N slid off her stool and followed him to the front door. 

“That’s the best time of day,” He smirked and whisked her away to his car where he drove her through the streets of London, illuminated by the lights that lit up the streets. 

He parked on the side of the road somewhere and they walked for fifteen minutes until they reached a busier area of the city where people were still out with friends, “Hopefully it’s still there,” He mumbled. 

“What are you talking about?” Y/N frowned and her head lifted to see the bright lights from billboards that surrounded the square. Perfume adverts and models appeared on the big screens as tourists posed for pictures in front of them. 

“This is Piccadilly Circus,” Harry motioned to the place they were standing in. He intertwined their fingers and led her over to stand her in front of the biggest billboard of them all, “And that is your home.” He pointed to it and the billboard switched to a picture of a beach that looked almost exactly the same as the one she had grown up near. Big, bold letters with the words ‘Visit the Philippines’ were at the bottom but Y/N couldn’t seem to stop staring at the sea that illuminated the square, casting it in blue light. 

Her eyes glistened with tears, “I know it’s not the same,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, “But-”

“It’s my home,” Y/N gasped, a grin taking over her entire face, “That’s where I’m from Harry!” 

Harry’s grin mirrored hers, “It is!” He replies with equal enthusiasm. 

“Can you take a picture of me?” She reached for her phone and passed it to him. Y/N smiled like a kid at Christmas in front of the billboard and Harry quickly snapped a picture before it switched to a different advert. 

He handed the phone back to her and she looked down unable to keep her eyes off of that blue sea she had been missing. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” She murmured and looked up to see him already gazing at her, “Thank you.”

Harry smiled bashfully, shaking his head, “I know you don’t believe it yet but I think you were meant to be here at this moment in life and I think maybe I was meant to be here too.” He admitted. 

“You really think that?” She asked.

“I believe it wholeheartedly,” He stated. 

When the billboard returned to the picture of the sea, Y/N insisted Harry stand to get a picture in front of it. He pulled a face, pointing at the billboard and the picture came out all blurry because Y/N had been laughing too much. 

Late into the night, they stayed in Piccadilly Circus taking pictures of each other and with each other as the beach appeared on the screen. Harry swore his camera roll was now just pictures of Y/N squealing with excitement whenever the image of the beach appeared. 

In the moments in between, they sat and spoke. Comparing cultures and learning more about one another. Whilst Y/N had learnt about Harry’s family and living in the English countryside as a child, Harry had learnt all about Y/N’s time in the sun and how much she adored fishing in the spring and picking mangoes off her grandpa’s mango trees. 

It wasn’t a date, it was more than that. 

It was the converging of two paths in life that had now become one. 

. . .

Mahal na mama, Dear mama. 

I got my first paycheck today and I have sent you as much as I can. I hope it’s enough to buy you some new shoes because I know you are getting tired of your old ones. 

I have been working hard and I’m slowly growing used to the way things work here. I’d be lying if I told you it was easy, it’s been so incredibly hard. So many times I have been desperate to come home, wondering whether this was where I belonged or if it just wasn’t meant to be. 

But Mama, I’ve met someone. 

Don’t be upset. I know you always told me and sissy it should always be careers before boys but he has become my home away from home mama. 

He’s a doctor at the hospital and his name is Harry.

Every day he picks me up from work even though his apartment is right by the hospital and we walk into work together. He’s not embarrassed to hold my hand or kiss me goodbye either. 

I spend a lot of days at his home because it’s a lot nicer than my boarding house. He asks me to cook him some of your recipes and he tells me to tell you that they are delicious and he hopes one day that you can cook them for him. 

He loves to listen to me speak about home and I love to hear him speak about his. 

He’s introduced me to this whole other world of culture mama and it is so beautiful. 

I love you and I miss you but I am safe and happy and I am doing well.

I am still counting down the days until I can come home and visit you but just know I am no longer homesick because of him. 

Mahal kita Mama. 

. . .

“Ang pangalan ko ay Harry,”

“Ang… Pan-gaaa-”

“Pangalan,” Y/N tried not to laugh at the concentrated look on his face. 

“Pangalan,” She nods.

“Ang pangalan ko ay Harry,” Harry looks at her for confirmation and she nods, leaning forward to kiss him. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry, my name is Y/N.” She murmurs against his lips. 

She feels his lips curve against hers before he puckers them and presses kisses all over her face. She tries to pull him away but he keeps her in his grip until they collapse onto the bed. “Harryyyy,” She giggles as he presses kisses along her exposed collarbones. 

“What’s the word for kisses again?” He murmurs against her neck. 

Y/N’s hands run through his curls, pushing them back from his face. Her lips ghost against his as she murmurs, “Mga halik,” 

“Mga halik,” He repeats, his pronunciation improving. 

“Mhm,” She puckers her lips to kiss him to which he happily hums and returns her kiss. “I need to start dinner,”

“No,” He whines, holding onto her, “Stay.”

“But I’m so hungry and you need to help me with the lumpia.” She says referring to the spring roles she had taught him to make. 

“We can’t order a pizza?” He pouts, “I just want to hold you.” 

Y/N sighed but was unable to prevent herself from falling for the pouty look on his face, “Fine, we’ll get a pizza but only if we can get it with pineapple.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, “Criminal,” 

“But you love me?” She grins, cheekily. 

“I do,” He kisses her before grabbing his phone, “I truly do.”

Since moving to a new country and meeting Harry, Y/N's life had transformed. He had brought back the sense of familiarity she had lost when she moved across the world. In him, she found not just love, but a true home—a place where she belonged and was cherished in return.

Her work and life in general had become easier because she no longer felt so alone. Every day they’d sit together during their lunch breaks at work and go back to Harry’s apartment at the end of their shifts. 

“Hi baby,” Harry greeted her whenever she’d get into the car with him. He’d lean over the console and kiss her. 

“Hi syota,” Sweetheart. She’d say in return and despite how tired he felt, he always managed to smile at the term of endearment she’d picked for him. 

Further into their dating, Harry had been desperate to learn her language. Even though Y/N told him it didn’t matter to her - they had their own ways of communicating that only they understood, bridging the gap between words that got lost in translation - he was instant on it. 

“But when our kids learn, I’ll be left out.” It was the first time he said I love you without even saying the three words. 

As they sat in his living room, which was slowly becoming hers too, eating pizza and watching Lord of the Rings, because Harry was insistent on making Y/N watch the whole series if she wanted to truly see the beauty of Western culture, Y/N realised that maybe Harry was right and this was where she was meant to be all along. 

“I love you,” Harry murmured as he held her in his arms on the couch. 

“Mahal kita.” I love you. She replied, feeling more at home in his arms than she did anywhere else in the world. 

3 years later… 

“Are you nervous baby?” Harry whispered in her ear as they sat side by side on the plane, their fingers intertwined. She was wearing his sweater and he had one of her rings on a chain around his neck, it was the physical representation of how they had interwoven their lives had become. 

“A little,” Y/N confessed, glancing out the window to see they were nearing the island she had left three years ago. “I’m worried they won’t like this version of me.”

“Hey,” Harry cupped her cheek in his hand, “They’re your family, they’ll love every version of you the same way I do.” 

Y/N’s lips turned upwards, “You promise?” 

“I’d never lie to you my love,” He kissed the bridge of her nose. 

The plane shook as it landed on the ground. Y/N could already feel the heat of the sun before she’d even stepped off the plane, just from looking out the window. Harry grabbed her duffle bag from the overhead compartment and took his own travel case as well. 

He was wearing a shirt that said ‘But Daddy I love him’ and white shorts with sunglasses buried in his dishevelled curls. They had been flying for hours, the both of them exhausted, but Y/N couldn’t seem to calm the jitters of seeing her home again. 

Harry pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “Calm down, puso ko.” my heart. 

“Do you think she’ll be here?” Y/N was already craning her neck as they got to passport control even though it was impossible to see past the arrival gates from where they stood. 

She remembered what her mother had told her when she dropped her off to start her new life in England. 

“Mananatili pa rin ako dito sa loob ng tatlong taon at magiging mas mahusay ka.” I will still be here in three years and you will be someone better. 

She hoped she had done just as her mother said and she would be returning to her as someone better than the person she used to be. 

Once they got through the gate, Y/N stood on her toes and tried to spot her mother in the crowds. She didn’t expect to see her right away as her mother was rather short but she hoped she’d sense her presence somewhere in the room. 

“Do you see her?” Y/N asked, Harry was also looking around to see if she was somewhere. 

“Y/N!” A warm, comforting voice that echoed in the depths of her childhood and rang through her to this day, called for her amongst the bustle of people. 

Y/N’s eyes watered, “Mama!” She called, spinning around to find her. 

“Hey look baby,” Harry pointed and that’s when Y/N saw her. Her arms open, standing in the place she promised she would be three years later. 

“Mama!” Y/N dropped Harry’s hand and ran towards her mother, enveloping herself in her arms and feeling her soft skin against her own. She felt the hands that had held her as a child, cling to the back of her shirt. 

“Ang anak ko,” My child. Her mother held her. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Y/N whispered, her eyes flooding with tears. 

Y/N pulled away, looking down at her mother and feeling a fresh flood of tears fill her eyes. A presence came up behind her, a hand on her shoulder. She put her hand on top of his and watched as her mother’s eyes widened in surprise, “Mama, this is my boyfriend, Harry.”

Harry cleared his throat, placing their bags on the floor, “Hello ang pangalan ko ay Harry. Ikinagagalak kitang makilala.” Hello, my name is Harry. Nice to meet you. His tone was slightly unsure as he spoke but Y/N beamed as he spoke the words to his mother, having spent the last few years teaching him. 

Her mother smiled, a tear falling from her eye. Y/N’s lips parted, having never seen her mother cry before. She took a step forward and then wrapped her arms around Harry, “Salamat sa pag-aalaga sa anak ko.” thank you for taking care of my daughter. 

Y/N covered her mouth to stop herself from sobbing in the middle of the airport. She wanted to take this moment and bottle it up as she watched her two favourite people in the entire world embrace each other. 

If there was one thing Y/N had learnt from her time away it was that home wasn’t so much of a place anymore but the people instead.

These were her people.

They were her home. 

[samkerrworshipper]

let me love you | Leah Williamson x Reader

a lot of angst, ending in fluff, themes of eating disorders, depression and alcohol abuse, 5900 words

please keep sending request yall i need something to feed my brainnn

i’m stuck on a blurb for this so basically just what happens after a rough moment in r and leah’s relationship, can they fix it? can they learn to love each other again? the photo i’ve used says it all lol

it’s piecy and i think u can see my sleep deprivation in this one but hope you enjoy!

I’d known going into camp that I was in trouble. That as soon as the team doctor did our pre camp exam that I was going to be fucked. With the extensive weight loss I knew that it was only a matter of time before I was approached but I hadn’t expected it to be the first night.

I’d been lying in my bed, in my room by myself. I was rooming with Keira this camp, but luckily enough she spent most of her time in Lucy or Leah’s room so I didn’t see much of her. I’d had the tv playing in the background, to fill the room with something other than the sound of my breathing and the sound of me scrolling through my phone. Then my little bubble, my perfect barrier that I’d created was broken by the resounding noise of someone knocking at my door.

“Y/n, it’s me.”

Sarina. Fuck.

“It’s open.”

It was probably the polite thing to get up and open the door but I was comfortable in my bed and while Sarina was terrifying I couldn’t see her getting mad at me over something so minor. The door cracked open and I switched the tv off out of respect for the manager who had closed my hotel room door behind her. Her face was unsteady, like she was unsure how to approach the conversation, something that I’d never seen on her.

“You missed dinner.”

“I feel asleep, the jetlag has tossed me around a little bit. I didn’t even realise until I woke up twenty minutes ago.”

It wasn’t a lie, I had travelled an obscene amount in the past twenty four hours. I’d flown from Cabo to New York, then spent 20 hours in New York with Kristie and some of the Gotham girls before getting on a plane to take me to Barcelona, where I’d spent a very short eight hours with Keira and Lucy before we got on a plane to London to bring us to camp. It had been hectic to say the least and had resulted in one of my suitcases being lost and me being in a very lengthy back and forth discussion with British Airways about how my luggage had ended up in Austria and that no, I didn’t have the time to go to Austria to retrieve it.

“I think we need to have a talk.”

Sarina’s foot was tapping nervously at her side, it was her tell, she was about to have a hard conversation that was not going to be easy to go over.

“Okay.”

She nodded at me.

“Meeting room 2, five minutes?”

I gulped, fuck, a meeting room. It had gone from informal to a little bit to formal for my liking. I nodded regardless, too scared to reply in any other way.

“Yes Ma’am.”

As soon as Sarina had left my room I was throwing myself out of the bed to throw on some proper clothes and make myself look a little bit more presentable. I threw on my light blue tech fleece and puffer jacket that we all had and then very haphazardly threw my hair into a greasy high pony. I pushed some mascara through my eyelashes and some moisturiser on my skin before coming to the conclusion that no amount of makeup was going to be able to disguise the purple bags under my eyes. Once I was done making myself look a little bit less dead I picked up my phone and keycard from my bedside table and left the room, making my way down the hallway towards the meeting rooms.

The meeting rooms had a multitude of purposes, zoom calls, skypes, video review, contract signing. Business stuff mainly, not a talk with your coach. That was what had me trembling a little bit as I made my way closer to the meeting rooms. When I got to the door of the second one, the one I’d been told to go to I waited outside of it for a few seconds before lifting my fist and knocking twice on the door. I didn’t have to wait long for a reply, Sarina was at the door opening it for me in a matter of seconds. I stepped into the room quickly, my eyes recognising all the faces in the room.

I was directed to a seat at the table, sitting directly across from Sarina, Leah, Millie and our team doctor. Lucy and Keira were seated on either side of me and the whole vibe of the room was enough to tell me that I was royally fucked.

“We are all here to have an open conversation about your recent medical exam.”

I kept my eyes on my own hands, which were resting on the table, playing with the rings that adorned my hands. I couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to look into the eyes of a woman who a few weeks ago I had loved so intensely and now couldn’t even think about without crying.

“You're here to tell me that I’ve dropped a dangerous amount of weight considering my normal weight class, that I should get some further tests done even though we know that there is nothing medically wrong with me. We’ll beat around the bush a little bit, try to ignore the fact that we all know that you can’t allow me to play when I’ve dropped this much weight and then you’ll send me home.”

Sarina’s jaw was set firmly, I could make out that much as my eyes darted up to the older woman quickly to catch a look at her facial expression.

“Do you want to die Ms y/l/n.”

I was taken aback massively by the question, because who asks a person that question, especially in this context.

“I don’t feel comfortable having this conversation with certain people in the room. I don’t want to die necessarily but living right now isn’t exactly ideal either. I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, I’ll admit that, I’m aware. I’ve neglected my body, prioritised other things. I knew walking in here that I’d dropped 2 stone and I wasn’t proud of it. I just went through an intense break up though, I’ve been in Cabo for three weeks, most of which I don’t remember. I know that it’s bad, I know that as an athlete we have expectations but I need some wiggle room, I need you to give me a shot to make this better. Because I honestly believe that in this environment I can fix it, I’ll get the weight back, I’ll get back into therapy or whatever. I’ll give up the bad habits, I just need a period of grace.”

I couldn’t look at Leah, couldn’t let myself out of fear that my brave face would fall and I’d be left in shambles sitting here. I just needed to convince Sarina that I could get my shit together.

She was in front of my brooding for a few minutes, leaving everyone in the room in an awkward silence.

“Everyone out besides Leah and you.”

Fuck.

I watched as everyone else slowly got up, Lucy giving me a reassuring pat on the back before exiting the room.

“I’m giving you both five minutes to explain what the fuck happened between you two, because as much as you both want to make it sound like nothing it isn’t. Everyone can feel it and obviously it's affecting the both of you.”

I still couldn’t look at her, it just hurt.

“Seems like I’m the only one who’s suffering.”

“That’s not true nor fair y/n. Leah’s having her own struggles.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes at the table.

“She’s the one who caused the problems in the first place so I’d call that karma.”

The tension in the room was thick, like a cloud laid over us.

“That’s not fair, you had a part in it as well.”

“I had a part in you kissing Jordan at a party?”

“Jordan kissed me first off, drunkenly, she apologised profusely to both of us when she was sober. You soberly made the decision to kiss fucking Alexia.”

If the tension could have thickened anymore, it did.

“You cheated on me with your ex, I think I can cheat on you with my ex situation.”

“Do you realised how fucked up that whole ideology is? I didn’t want to cheat on you, anyone who was there that night will tell you that I physically pushed Jordan off of me, I didn’t want it to happen. I know it hurts you, but you wouldn’t even hear me out, you didn’t answer my calls or texts. I didn’t know where you went, just heard from Lucy that you’d decided to go abroad for a few weeks and you were turning your phone off. I spent 3 days sitting in Keira’s apartment balling my eyes out because I missed you so much, I haven’t slept properly ever since, I can’t fucking live without you y/n/n.”

Leah was sobbing and it hurt a part of me that I didn’t know existed. I wanted to hug her, wipe the tears from her face and apologise for my stupidity, to make it all better. But I was stubborn as shit and I also hadn’t really forgiven Leah. I hadn’t forgiven myself either.

That night had been the worst one of my life. Seeing Leah making out with Jordan had broken my heart and before I knew it I’d been running out of the bar we’d been celebrating in and calling Ale because she was my person and then she was picking me up and taking me back to my apartment and she was comforting me on our sofa and then we were kissing and Leah was walking in, mascara smeared and tears down her face and then Ale was running out of the apartment. I ended up waiting for Leah to fall asleep before I’d fled. I’d been terrified, my fear response was flight, when I was scared I fled, so that was what I’d done on that godforsaken night.

“I don’t really give a shit who did what. You both fucked up, that’s evident. We have the olympic coming up, Leah you are coming off of an ACL injury and you are going to be our captain, y/n, we need you on top of your game for us to win. I won’t deal with this team being torn into shreds because the both of you are too stubborn to talk about your feelings. Am I understood?”

Both Leah and I nodded meekly at Sarina, the both of us equally terrified of the dutchwoman and the tone of voice she was using towards us, like we were six year olds.

“Y/n, I’ll give you a grace period, two weeks. You’ve got two weeks to show that you can make some improvement in your habits, but there will be conditions if you wish to continue training and playing during those two weeks. You will eat every single meal, with the rest of the team. You aren’t going to work out beyond our team scheduled gym sessions. You will go back to talking to a therapist on a weekly basis. You are going to socialise with your teammates instead of holding yourself up in your room by yourself. You and Leah will room together until you can prove to me that you can be civil. If any of these conditions are broken you will find yourself sidelined, am I understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Sarina nodded at me, her blue eyes staring intensely into my own, I was trying to get away from this situation, away from the confrontation that was only bound to get worse the longer Leah and I were stuck in a room together.

“You are free to go, I expect to see you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

I’d given Sarina a quick nod before bolting out of my seat and straight out of the room. I was pretty sure I’d had the worst 96 hours of my life. My whole body felt like it was on fire, my hair and face were still greasy from all of the airplane travel and my eyes just hurt. I half jogged my way back to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me almost as soon as I’d closed the door behind me. I slowly slid down against the solid wood, this whole situation was so fucked.

Not only did I have to focus on being fucking civil with a woman who I hated, I had to fucking turn my whole life around in a matter of two weeks, which right now seemed pretty fucking impossible. I wasn’t a person who cried very often, I wasn’t in touch with my emotions like that. But right now, fat, warm, wet tears were dripping down my face and my lip was wobbling between my two front teeth trying to suppress the sobs that were coming up from my throat. Love hurt. Loving someone and being loved is one of the hardest things that I’d ever done, because it’s not easy to spend every day loving a person, it fulfilling but it also is so fucking painful.

I could hardly make up the energy to get off the floor, so I didn’t. I sat against the door, crying, shaking and trembling as I let out the feelings that I’d built up for the last month. I was a person who didn’t cry very often, when I was drunk, when someone died, when I was really hurt. That was the extent of my emotional release. Leah was similar, that’s why we’d hit it off, neither of us were over emotional, we didn’t read into things and we didn’t over complicate anything. At the end of the day neither of us had to worry about the other one getting offended by a joke or drunken words. I’d honestly believed we were soulmates, for a long time, but that night had wrecked it all.

Both of us had been stupid, it had been the celebratory night of our win in the Nations League, we’d beaten Spain, it was a big deal. Everyone was completely wasted and I didn’t remember much of the night until Leah had been on the dance floor with Jordan, Chloe, Millie, Rachel and some other teammates and one moment Leah is motioning for me to join me and the next Jordan is making out with her and I’m running out with Lucy following me. Then Lucy called Ale because I’d locked myself in our hotel room ensuite. Then Ale was there and she was comforting me and hugging me and I was pissed off at Leah and then I was kissing Ale and she was telling me no and the Leah walked in to comfort me and it was just a fucking mess of alcohol and emotions.

Just thinking about that night had hurt, I hadn’t let myself in the last month. Not when I’d been in Cabo drinking all day and night, clubbing and partying and spending all of my spare time trying to push my emotions away. Then I’d gotten the call from Sarina, I’d been expecting it but it had still shocked me for some reason. In a matter of 24 hours I’d been packing up all my shit and hopping on a plane back to the one place that I couldn’t have been more desperate to avoid. I’d contemplated turning down the call up, but a call from my agent had told me that I couldn’t expect an invite back if I turned one down now. The Olympics was a big deal as well, it was something that I did want to do but the overwhelming anxiety I had felt being faced with the reality that I was walking into a group of people that worshipped the ground that my ex girlfriend walked on.

My thought pattern was interrupted by the sound of knocking directly above my head. The sound pulsated against the wood and across my body, seeping deep into my bones. It was a resounding knock, loud, echoing across the room.

“Y/n, open up.”

It was the voice that I least wanted to hear at that moment and I tried my hardest to ignore it but the sound of the knocking repeating made it harder.

“Y/n/n, c’mon, open the door, I know you're in there.”

It was the nickname that only she called me, a nickname I hadn’t heard in a month and it hurt my soul hearing it. It made fresher tears fall from my eyes that I rubbed at furiously with the sleeve of my jumper. I wiped as much of the smudged mascara and tears from my face, I knew subconsciously that my eyes were red and puffy and Leah would one hundred percent be able to tell. For my dignity though I rubbed it all from my face before standing up and opened the door.

Before I could say anything Leah had slipped past me and into the room, making herself at home and sitting down on Keira’s bed, resting herself at the very top so she was leaning against the headboard. I pushed down any thoughts that I had about Leah being in the same position in our own bed, except with a lot less clothes covering her body.

“You’ve been crying.”

It wasn’t a question, a statement, but it held a question in it somewhere. Leah wasn’t used to me crying, so the fact that I was crying was probably a little bit of a shock to her.

“What do you want?”

Leah pouted at me, sarcastically, it pissed me off how confident she was when I felt like I was tearing at the seams.

“In case you didn’t remember, we’re roomies now. I wanted to talk, I think we both have stuff we need to get off of our chests. I love you y/n/n and I’m worried about you.”

“Go worry about Jordan.”

I was leaning against the dresser, trying my hardest to keep my shit together in front of the woman that was making me feel so many things that I had been denying myself for a month.

“That’s fair, but also not necessary. I didn’t kiss her y/n, I didn’t even get as close as a metre’s distance from her, anyone there could tell you that. I pushed her off me. So yes, she kissed me, without my consent or my desire for her to do so. I love you, not her. I promise you that. She means nothing to me beyond being my friend, I don’t love her.”

I didn’t really know what to say. Leah wasn’t really the root of my anger, because I knew that it had been Jordan all over Leah, and at the end of the day she’d come to my room that night to apologise instead of going back to Jordan’s, I was her priority.

“She loves you, and I can’t do anything about that. That hurts and I know that it shouldn’t, I have no right to be jealous but it hurts.”

Leah looked contemplatively at me, like she was trying to understand what I was saying but knew that she couldn’t really.

“Do you love Alexia?”

I gulped, that was a fucked up question that I didn’t have a answer for. My immediate silence gave enough context to that.

“That’s not a fair question.”

I was deflecting and also furiously toying with a loose thread on the edge of my jumper.

“I think I deserve to know if the woman I love loves me the same way.”

It was hard hearing those words come out of her mouth as well.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t love her. I dated her for six years, I thought I was going to marry her. I don’t love her like I loved you. We broke up because we couldn’t love each other that way. It was a surface relationship, but we both knew at the end of the day that we couldn’t get married or have kids or get old together, we didn’t love each other like that. We didn’t have a messy break up, I didn’t have a phase where I hated her and I wanted nothing more than to be away from her. We just stopped physically loving each other. She’s still my person Leah, you know that. I regret kissing her, I was so drunk and I was so fucking upset and she was so familiar to me in that moment. So maybe I do love her, in some fucked up way, but I don’t love her long term. She’s not the woman that I want to spend the rest of my life loving, not the person that I want to wake up next to, not the person that I want to write vows for, not the person that I want to be with every minute of every day. I don’t yearn for her.”

I realised now that there were tears in Leah’s eyes, which shocked me a little. Leah never cried, I could count the amount of times I’d seen her properly sob on one hand. Four times. When we won the Euros, when she did her ACL, when she woke up from ACL surgery and that night when it had all happened. Apart from that she was a brick wall, she wore a facade everyday, that very little people got to see broken down. I considered myself very grateful to have been able to see past it, to see the side of Leah that not a lot did. She’d let a stray tear go every once in a while, but proper crying, proper emotional, vulnerable crying was very rare to see.

“Do you love me long term?”

“Leah, that's not a fair question either.”

Tears were running down Leah’s face, similar to the tears that had been falling down my face less than five minutes ago.

“It's not fair? I’ve been here for the last month y/n, wondering if we still stand a chance. Wondering if you still love me, wondering if I should wait around for you? I want to know if you still love me as much as I love you.”

I could feel more tears coming to my eyes, Leah was sitting not even three metres away from me and yet it felt like we were oceans apart.

“I don’t know. Does it really matter?”

Leah was wiping at her face, she detested vulnerability and it was clear in her actions.

“Does it matter? Y/n/n, I am trying to figure out if I am going to spend the rest of my life fucking mourning losing the love of my life. I want to know if I stand a chance, if there is something here that we can salvage, something here that we can try and fix. I will spend everyday making it up to you if I have to, anything you need us to do I am down to do it.”

I shifted from toe to toe in my spot standing, Leah’s words were so genuine, they had so much power over me, sent shivers down my whole body.

“I love you. I love you enough though to tell you that I’m a fucking wreck, some of it’s because of this, some of it is just me. Leah I’m trying to fucking sort myself out now and I love you but I’m not going to tell you that your my priority right now, I love you but I also am trying to learn how to love myself and I’m also trying to learn how to love my sport again.”

Leah pursed her lips, wiping the last of her emotional admission tears from her face. She looked so raw, her blonde hair was thrown up in a messy high bun, an unusual look for her, her face was stripped bare of any makeup and her jumper looked a tad bit too big on her. She looked stripped, stripped of her dignity, stripped of her facade, stripped of everything that made her Leah motherfucking Williamson. I wasn’t looking at England’s captain, I wasn’t looking at Arsenal and England’s world class defenders. I was looking at just Leah. The Leah who would wake me up with forehead kisses every morning, the Leah who would give me foot massages after a rough training, the Leah who would only look at me in a room full of people.

“I’ve worried about you so much that I started to get scared I was praying. You took off and I didn’t know with who or where. I mean I know that I fucked up but y/n/n, we could have talked it out, or we could have tried to. You fled and you didn’t even give me a goodbye. I didn’t know if we were done or if I was ever going to see you again and it fucking broke me. I stayed in bed for a week, I didn’t eat, I didn’t leave. Keira and Lucy literally had to drag me out of bed to get me to do anything. I cried, non stop for a week, it was horrible and I felt like shit. Then Lucy got Alexia to come over and we talked it out and she told me that she didn’t mean for it to happen and all she wanted was for us to be happy and it broke me because how am I supposed to be happy when the woman I love is nowhere to be seen.”

A sob echoed from her chest and it broke my heart, because I hated seeing Leah in pain, I hated seeing her hurt. When she’d done her ACL it had been the most gut wrenching thing I’d had to witness. The only difference was that now I was the source of pain and it hurt ten times more.

I pushed myself off of the dresser and towards the bed. Leah’s head was buried in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees as her palms rubbed furiously at her eyes. I sat down onto the bed and pushed myself up against the headboard beside her, putting one of my arms down on her shoulders and gently nudging her head into my neck. It was uncharted territory but also felt so familiar and right. Hearing Leah’s sobs hurt my soul, but my contact seemed to calm her a little bit. She flinched away initially, unsure but then she was seeking it out, leaving into me and everything about it felt right.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for what happened with Jordan, I’m sorry if I didn’t make you feel loved, I’m sorry if I didn’t treat you well enough, I’m sorry if I’m not good enough. I’m trying to work on it, I’m trying to be better,” I stopped Leah before she could say much more.

“It’s not your fault Leah,” My voice came out with exasperation, because I hated that Leah felt that way,

“You made me feel loved everyday, you treated me perfectly. You are perfect Leah, you were a perfect girlfriend, a perfect captain, a perfect person. We had our moments but you are a good person, you don’t need to be better. I’m the one who can’t fucking handle herself, who had to flee the country when it got rough and I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry that I ran when it got hard.”

Hearing Leah hiccup on her breath was so painful for me, painful enough that I reached my hand down to her face to try and wipe some of the tears off of her cheeks.

“C’mon, you're too pretty to be crying.”

It was a weak compliment that died with the mood of the room, Leah let out a depressing laugh that honestly just made it all worse but her sobs did quieten down a little bit and I noticed that the tremors that were haunting her whole body had slowed down and had become less of a repetitive pattern.

“You haven’t been eating, you lost two stones, did I do that to you?”

Leah’s voice was so shaky, so insanely innate for her.

“Me not eating has nothing to do with you and I won’t have you taking the blame for it. Not everything is your fault Leah and you don’t have to take the blame for it all. I know how your brain works, that you are going to take the blame for everything that has happened between us, but it’s not your fault, a lot of it is mine, my eating habits though have nothing to do with you.”

My voice was a mixture of steady and stern, I had a point to get across and I needed Leah to understand that, I needed her to know that. She wasn’t as fearless and brave as she constantly tried to prove to anyone, she was always the first to blame herself for anything, always getting down on herself and I knew that, I knew that Leah could send herself into a downward spiral.

She pulled her head out of my shoulder and locked eyes with me, her dark brown eyes felt like they were violating me, I felt like I was naked under her gaze, like I was so incredibly vulnerable.

“Why haven’t you been eating?”

I felt like I was under a magnifying glass, like Leah could see every single part of me and could see into my brain. She always worried about me, always. To the point where sometimes it was concerning, I had as much as a sniffle and she was doting over me like my mother.

“I’m fine Lee.”

“If you were fine you wouldn’t have lost two stones.”

She could read me too easily and she knew that I was pretty much putty in her hands as soon as she started talking.

“It got dark for me when I left, I needed to leave but then I was gone and I realised that I was so alone and I was partying to try and avoid my feelings and it worked but you know how I am when I’m depressed, I stop eating, I stop functioning. I lived off of alcohol for three weeks and then I got the call from Sarina and for the first time in three weeks I was completely sober and it hit me like a freight train. I realised how bad it had gotten and I was in shambles.”

Leah nodded at me, she knew how I worked, knew that when I was starting to spiral I tended to push it all down until it got so bad that I had a nervous breakdown.

“You need to eat, we need you playing, I need you on the field. It broke my heart when Sarina came and told me, when she asked me if I’d seen any of the warning signs or if I’d noticed and I couldn’t give her an answer.”

I brought my hand back up to rest on Leah’s face, she was still shaking, still hiccuping with every word that she said. I pushed the tears that were pooling on her face away with the pad of my thumb.

“I couldn’t even tell her anything.”

Leah’s words were thrown out between choken sobs and hiccups, it was so strung out and painful that I felt it in my chest.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that, I’m sorry I deserted you. I’m so sorry I hurt you Lee, you deserve better, you deserve someone who has their shit together.”

Leah pulled herself out from beside me and scooted herself so she was sitting in front of me, between my legs looking at me directly.

“I want you though, I want to love you and I want you to let me.”

I couldn’t do much more than look at her, look at her eyes, look at how heartbroken they were. They were full of so much pain, so many sleepless nights and a part of me wanted to fix some of that.

“Let us be happy, let all of this devastation come to an end and just let us be happy. We’ll work through what happened, we can try therapy, or something else. I want you though y/n/n, I want you forever and I don’t want us to give up on that because of some stupid shit that happened when we were drunk.”

Those fucking eyes, they held the sun and the moon, they had the power to make me do anything.

“I want to try, for us. I still think that you are my forever Leah. I just don’t want either of us to get hurt in the process.”

“Love hurts, we work through it. Please just try it for me.”

Her lip was wobbling in between her teeth and it took every single piece of self control I had to not take that lip in my own and just kiss the woman like I wanted to.

“Okay.”

Leah’s face lit up almost immediately, like a kid in a candy store. She leant in towards me, her lips hovering centimetres away from my own and her eyes looking into my own and it took literally every piece of my self control not to initiate anything.

“Is this okay?”

Leah’s voice was calmer this time, less rough on the edges, less broken. I nodded eagerly at her and relaxed into her body as she pressed her lips to mine. It was soft, tender, relaxing, so perfect.

“How about this?”

It was murmured against my lips, a small smirk forming along Leah’s lips.

“So good, but I think we are both overdue for some sleep.”

Leah frowned against my lips but nodded, we were both tired and it was obvious in our actions. She plopped herself down next to me, relaxing into my body and laying her head against my chest.

“Flick the lamp of love.”

The term of endearment sent a shiver down my back, it was so normal and yet so shocking to me. I obeyed her immediately, turning over to the bedside lamp and flicking it off so we were left in the dark. I shrugged my jacket off before relaxing down into the pillow. Leah shifted around for a few seconds, finding a comfortable spot on my body before stilling herself. She looked so small curled up against me, I tugged her hair out of its bun and rubbed her roots just the way I knew she liked me too and rubbed her back the way I knew sent her straight to sleep. It probably took not even a minute before Leah’s body relaxed fully and her breaths evened out and when they did I smiled a little bit looking at her exhausted form. I leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before relaxing myself fully against the pillows and preparing myself for my own sleep.

“I love you Leah, always.”

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 10

After the Doctor left Gallifrey, the Master and the Rani were so desperate to find him that they kidnapped and interrogated a retired CIA agent named Maris, who had been hired to find him. Maris unfortunately had no idea where he went, but before they could kill her, she was extracted from the situation.

Sabbath Dei cut out the Eighth Doctor's second heart and put it in his own chest.

In an alternate timeline, the Sixth Doctor was imprisoned in the Tower of London for a hundred years and had both of his legs cut off. By refusing to give the Dalek also imprisoned an order, he ensures that the Dalek will kill him.

William Shakespeare and Richard III swapped places in history, so anything "Shakespeare" did from 1597 onwards was actually done by Richard III.

After regenerating, the Ninth Doctor smashed every mirror in the TARDIS, swearing that he would never look at what face he was wearing after killing billions of people. He would eventually look in a mirror again after meeting Rose Tyler, and his meeting with Rose actually occurred after much more time had passed than you might think.

In the UNIT Black Archive, there is a photograph of Mike Yates and Sara Kingdom, suggesting that they interacted at some point.

The Fifth Doctor was once paralyzed from the waist down in a spaceship crash and remained that way for most of the adventure. By the end of the story, he had been healed by nanites.

The Doctor's older brother Braxiatel was Lord Burner at one point, the personal assassin of the President who burned people out of history. After being ordered to burn an old man and his granddaughter running away from Gallifrey, he let them go, and the President who gave him the order mysteriously died when one of the power relays in his office overloaded. Braxiatel led an inquiry on the matter and declared it to be nothing more than an accident.

River Song believes that the Doctor had a crush on the Rani while they were at the Academy.

At the summit of Mount Cadon on Gallifrey, one can see the whole of time itself, but people hardly ever reach it because a hallucinogenic compound in the snow stops them. While a TARDIS can materialize at the top, this is apparently "cheating" according to the Doctor. The Academy is at the foot of Mount Cadon, and it is also the site of the House of Lungbarrow.

The Doctor remembers attempting to climb Mount Cadon several times. On one such attempt, Vansell broke his leg.

When the Eighth Doctor ran into the Brigadier again after regaining his memories from another bout of amnesia, he said he felt much safer with him.

The Third Doctor's tattoo was given to him by the Time Lords to mark that he was in exile. It is basically the equivalent of a brand or a big scarlet letter.

Mustard gas can be fatal to a Time Lord.

Kamelion and K-9 can both be damaged by water.

As Time Tots, the Rani and the Doctor would play hide-and-seek. She was incredibly irritated by the Doctor's exceptional ability to find her hiding spots.

The physical appearance of a Time Lord is but a small aspect of their true forms. In reality, Time Lords are vast, multi-dimensional beings existing in the metaspace realm. These forms are completely invisible to humans.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[pixiesfz]

do u have to kill me w the jessie angst

yes.

game on j.f

plot: You and Jessie play eachother for the first warnings: angst, injury part four of this

warnings: angst, injury

You were now lined up in your respective teams, ready to go on and take your team photo before the game started.

“you ready?” Lauren asked you as you were told you were going to play the full 90 “Yeah” you answered her as you tried to pull the memory of your conversation with Christine away.

“Do your thing, we haven’t had a gem like you come across us in a while” she smiled and you smiled back “Thanks Lozza” You rested your head on her shoulder, ignoring the feeling of someone watching you.

When the game was about to start you walked over to your position next to Jessie “Ready?” she asked you as she tied her laces which you predicted was about the third time that she retied them today “Yeah you?” you asked the girl nodded her head “yep”.

The conversation was cold, you both knew it but unbeknownst to you Jessie was angry.

She was pissed.

You told her you didn’t love her, broke her heart and now you wanted her again.

You confused her and now she’s angry.

She’s angry that you’re here. Why? Couldn’t you have just stayed in London?

But the siren played before she could accidentally snap by just looking at you.

You knew how Jessie played and used it to your advantage, leading you to assist a goal in the twelfth minute. But you didn’t know that Jessie would start to play dirty in the 85th minute.

You had the ball, dribbling it down the wing before a leg hit your right ankle from the side causing you to yelp out in pain and jump meaning when you landed, you landed hard on your side, knocking the wind out of you.

Jessie got up in shock “y/n?” she asked and you rolled on your side “Can’t breathe” you stuttered before your teammates ran to you, Lauren who had been subbed on pushed Jessie away as she turned her head to try and get a good look at you.

“Jessie just leave” Lauren eventually said with a stern look as the Canadian was backed into another one of her teammates.

It took a second for you to regain your breath as the medics came to check on your ankle. “Is it broken?” you asked, a tear falling down your face in fear that you would be out for weeks” The medic crossed his head and you sighed in relief “sprained but you can’t play” he instructed and you nodded in agreement “you couldn’t pressure yourself into getting even more injured.

“Help me” you instructed to two girls next to you who helped you up. “get better y/n” they all said as you started to walk off with a limp, some people in the crowd applauding you as you walked down the tunnel.

You watched on the TV in the doctors room as the Portland thorns gained a goal by Jessie but she didn’t celebrate as her teammates piled on top of her. Portland thorns win 2 – 1.

After the game some of your teammates came in to check on you, Lauren promising to get you Pizza as she walked out.

But as you laid down on the table, the ice pack on your foot almost melted completely the door opened again.

You propped up on your elbows to see the woman who put you here in the first place. Bitterly you frowned “congrats on the win” you deadpanned and laid back down.

“I didn’t mean to tackle you that hard” Jessie said and you rolled your eyes propping yourself back up “Jessie I’ve been watching you play for three years, you know how to tackle and you know how to tackle clean” you told her and she sat down on a chair near the door “I’m sorry” was all she said again before silence took over.

“Why’d you do it?”

Jessie looked at you as you staired up to the ceiling “what?” she asked “Why’d you tackle me so hard?” you asked again “I don’t know” she stated “yes you do” you told her before lifting your body up so you’re both forced to look at each other.

“I-“ she started, running her hand through her showered hair which was slicked back, a hairstyle you would always run your fingers through to make her feel better after a rough game.

“spit it out” you demanded and the girl looked down “Why are you being mean?” she asked defensively “Oh I’m sorry are you the one who’s out for 6 weeks” you responded outraged that she’d even turn the situation around.

“Oh because you’re so innocent” Jessie shrugged and you raised your brows “excuse me?”

“Oh c’mon” Jessie groaned “I heard you talking to Christine before the game” she said and you looked down.

Oh shit.

“What do you mean ask me on a date?” she asked with anger as she stood up in anger “Jessie” you said softly “no” she cut you off “you said you didn’t love me, you broke me why?” she said, her emotions spilling over as a tear fell down your cheek, but you were mad as well, she injured you.

You propelled yourself off the seat, whimpering as your foot hit the ground “Y/n your injured stop-“ she said softly as you limped to her “No, you wanna know why I did what I did” you said, stepping closer as she stayed still.

You took her silence as a yes.

“I loved you Jessie, I really did that’s why” you stated and you saw her eyes gloss over “That makes no sense” she whispered and you rolled your eyes “You were unhappy at Chelsea, you deserved more and if you didn’t leave I- I would’ve been holding you back so I lied. I told you I didn’t love you because I loved you so much to let you go” You finished as you squeezed your face in pain by putting pressure on your ankle.

“You got it now?”

Jessie looked down at the floor in silence, your anxiety taking over you. “Jessie please say something” you begged “Jessie please-“

But you were cut off as her lips found yours...

[shiny-crocodile]

the best person i've ever met

lucy bronze x ona batlle

Summary

lucy and ona origin story; semi-slow burn, semi-quick; multi chapters that will get a little smutty

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10

CHAPTER 8

chapter summary: doctors and dress up

chapter notes: got a certain request (many many times) for something to happen again, so here you go x

smut

The next day was not what either of them particularly wanted out of their one day off together in London.

Lucy had a whole plan to visit some markets, followed by a fancy dinner but instead they were forced to spend it in a hospital waiting room with Tesco meal deals, accompanied by Peter the Barça physio.

After last nights conversations, Lucy and Ona had their first “girlfriend reveal” trial run with Peter. Lucy peered over to him after the younger girl pecked her on the lips before making her way to the vending machine for more snacks. Peter barely bat an eyelid.

As Lucy’s name was finally called after an hour of waiting, she hobbled after the doctor on her newly acquired crutches, leaving Ona behind for this solo trip to the scanners.

“Break a leg!” Ona called after her, making the older girl laugh, calming her nerves massively. You never quite got used to the overwhelming feeling of dread going in for scans.

As they expected, the news wasn’t good. Ona squeezing Lucy’s hand reassuringly as they were told Lucy would need to have surgery and that the success of the surgery would determine the length of the recovery period.

The World Cup was in 2 months and a potential Champions League final was in 1 month, an incredibly tight turnaround, which everyone in the room was hyper aware of.

After making a few phone calls, Peter returned to offer up some options for next steps.

“So where do you want the surgery?” Peter asked.

“Her knee preferably,” Ona joked, both girls cracking up but Peter staying stern faced.

“Sorry, she’s full of jokes today, what do you mean?” Lucy asked, hand stroking Ona’s leg.

“Well we have great doctors in a number of places where you can have the surgery, as long as you are back in Barcelona in one week for rehab,” Peter explained, “the UK? Spain?“

Lucy looked to Ona before answering, who nodded, the two communicating with looks alone. “Manchester?” Lucy asked, turning back to Peter.

“Sure,” he said, standing up to make more phone calls.

“Nurse Batlle, at your service. This is going to be fun!” Ona said, weirdly excited at the thought of doting on Lucy.

Lucy sighed, not sharing the excitement, but she could think of one concilation, “as long as you dress the part I won’t complain.”

////

A couple of days passed, Ona was pacing up and down the corridor after giving Lucy all the good luck kisses before she was wheeled off.

Using the hospital as her runway for heavy footed nervousness, she quickly started to annoy the hospital staff.

“Well fancy seeing you here,” Ona heard from behind her while mid-pace.

“Staniiiii,” Ona exclaimed as she threw herself into her friend’s arms.

The pair hadn’t seen as much of each other since Lucy moved from Man U to Villa, and as the person who helped Ona settle into the UK, the Spaniard was beyond thrilled to see her again.

“Did Lucy call you?” Ona asked, slightly surprised as when Ona had offered to call her mum, she said she didn’t want to be around anyone like this, so it was unusual if she was actively reaching out to friends.

“Yeah but I am under strict instructions to only be here when the surgery was happening,” Lucy said, guiding Ona back into the hospital room and into one of the chairs. “Wanted me to keep you company and stop you worrying. Clearly it was needed with you pacing the halls like a madman.”

It was definitely needed and Ona felt instantly calmer having this distraction, coupled with the warmth of knowing Lucy was thinking of her while preparing for surgery, responding, “she knows me too well.”

Time passed much faster now Ona had someone to talk to and catch up with, loving that she also had someone she could talk to about Lucy seen as though the other Lucy was the one person who knew everything about their relationship.

Lucy S couldn’t help but notice the difference in Ona from a few months ago, especially her need to mention the english right back every 5 seconds now.

“You really like her, hey?” Lucy asked. She knew how much her best friend liked the Spaniard, but she hadn’t really gotten to see the other side until now.

Ona nodded shyly, “big time. It’s honestly kind of terrifying.”

The younger girl received an understanding stroke of the arm, “of course it is. It’s always scary opening yourself up to someone. But it’s always amazing and rewarding, and honestly, I’m biased because she’s one of my favourite people but there’s truly no one better to let yourself fall for than Lucy.”

Ona couldn’t stop from grinning. Her friend always had a way with words and hearing her talk about Lucy like that was everything.

“Oh apart from my wife,” Lucy corrected, both girls breaking into laughter.

//

A couple hours later, with the surgery done and dusted, Lucy was wheeled back into the room, completely out of it and packed full of drugs.

“Stanniiiiiiiii!” Lucy slurred as she saw her best friend. “What you doing here?”

The Villa player moved over to the side of the bed, squeezing Lucy’s hand while laughing slightly at the state she was in.

“You called me you donut.”

“Oh yeah,” Lucy said, letting out a high pitched giggle that no one in the room had heard before. “You look after Ona?”

“I did, she’s all good,” her best friend said. “How are you feeling?”

Lucy was too out of it to even notice that Ona was actually in the room, who stood out of the way, chuckling away as she gave the old friends a minute.

“Gooooooood, it’s a shame we’re athletes because drugs are so good!” Lucy slurred out, earning a laugh from everyone in the room including the nurse.

Lucy was starting to drift off now to sleep, but not before dragging out, “thank you for looking after, you’re the best friend. I really love her and I love you for your matching. I love…”

Lucy was gone to the world, the surgery and the drugs making her so tired she closed her eyes and instantly started lightly snoring.

Lucy S turned round to look at a blushing Ona. “She’s not said that to you before has she?”

The younger girl could only shake her head. She knew Lucy was drugged up but she still couldn’t help having a lump in her throat at the older girl’s confession. She made her way over to the bed before placing a soft kiss on her girlfriend’s temple.

“Naw,” Lucy S said, “well I’m off before this gets even soppier.”

The Villa player spun around, grabbing her bag and cheek kissing the Spaniard goodbye.

“Blowing my own trumpet here, but you’re very good together. Look after my girl and let her know I’ll message tomorrow,” Lucy said before both girls blew a kiss to each other and parted.

The younger girl gently shifted her Lucy onto her side to stop the snoring, before sliding in behind the taller girl on the bed, taking the role of big spoon for once.

Mouth near Lucy’s ear, she whispered, “I love you too,” knowing that Lucy wouldn’t hear or even register it. She placed a kiss behind the older girl’s ear before closing her eyes to nap with her girlfriend.

////

“Oh my god? What are you wearing?”

Lucy had been discharged from the hospital and was now resting up at Ona’s. She had to be back in Barcelona tomorrow for rehab, which she was absolutely dreading, knowing the short turnaround between now and the UWCL final, and then the World Cup.

But she wouldn’t let her mind worry about that now. Not when she was faced with the stunning sight of Ona in a full nurses outfit.

“Are they blood splatters?” Lucy asked, unable to stop herself from laughing.

“Shut up, it’s from Halloween,” Ona said, strutting further into the room. “Now stop laughing, I’m trying to be sexy.”

“Oh baby you don’t need to try,” Lucy said, heart racing as she tried to compose herself, sitting more upright in the bed to fully take this in.

The white and fake blood splattered cropped top showed off her abs perfectly, while the low v was always going to be what Lucy’s eyes were drawn to, Ona’s nipples poking through the fabric.

Ona did her best sultry strut as she flicked her hips, Lucy’s eyes now fixed on her upper thighs every time the skirt flicked up, making it abundantly clear the younger girl wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Lucy clenched the bed sheets to combat the throbbing between her legs.

“Oh Mrs Bronze, you look like you need some assistance.”

Lucy cringed, much to the confusion and offence of Ona. “My mum’s a teacher, let’s not do Mrs.”

“Ah sorry,” Ona said before getting back in the zone.

“Señorita, you look like you need some assistance,” Ona said, the lip bite from Lucy showing her she was on the right track.

The older girl was getting wet at the show being put on for her, Ona sexily throwing off her nurses cap before slowly crawling up the bed towards Lucy.

“Wait,” Lucy said as the younger girl started pulling off her shorts, “you’ve looked after me enough, let me look after you.”

“Oh cari, you’re going to do more than just look after me,” Ona said, biting her lip with a look Lucy knew all too well.

It was the look Ona gave her when she was about to do her favourite thing to Lucy. Ever since the first time she found out Lucy never did it, she’s taken so much pleasure out of achieving it every single time she tried…

Shorts discarded, Lucy laid back, giving up before the Spaniard had even started.

Ona attached her mouth to the side of Lucy’s pelvis, drawing her first moan out of the older girl as she made a mark.

Sufficiently bruised, Ona lifted her head to look at Lucy, “hey, think you’re gonna want to watch this.”

Lucy did as she was told, pushing herself up, and Ona wasn’t wrong.

The younger girl had her arse pushed into the air, skirt no longer covering her now exposed cheeks.

Ona intently watched Lucy get more soaked at the site of her.

“Now keep watching,” Ona said, before taking her first lick up Lucy’s folds, humming a moan into the older girl’s centre that only made her wetter.

The English girl could barely compute what she was watching, the Spaniard’s naked bum bouncing up and down as she devoured Lucy.

If she could, she would have grabbed handfuls of her cheeks, but instead had to settle for handfuls of hair.

She could have come at the sight alone, but her girlfriend was going to drag this out until she knew the English girl was ready to give her what she wanted.

“Please,” Lucy cried out, so loud that Ona jerked her head up in worry.

The sight of Lucy only spurred the younger girl on. The older girl’s face and chest dripping with sweat, as Ona dealt with the dripping pussy.

She knew Lucy was ready.

Two fingers were inserted at once, quickly followed by a third to get the most insane scream from Lucy.

Ona didn’t even know a noise like that was possible from her girlfriend.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna squirt,” Lucy said coming undone, Ona sucking on her clit but not removing her fingers to drink up the juices like she usually would.

“Ona?” the English girl managed to utter out, the fucking of her pussy and sucking of her clit not relenting.

“Again,” Ona growled, and like clockwork, Lucy squirted, but Ona still wasn’t lapping it up.

The Spaniard removed her fingers, drawing a moan as she spread the girl’s legs further apart, allowing herself even more room at Lucy’s pussy.

“Once more,” Ona instructed, pulling Lucy’s incredibly lips apart with her fingers to expose the girl’s sensitive clit.

“I can’t,” Lucy moaned as the cold air ran over her.

As if she hadn’t heard her, the Spaniard attached her lips to Lucy’s clit, giving it one last sharp suck as everything left in Lucy gushed out, Ona doing the lapping now, tears in her eyes at her own state of bliss.

“My girl,” Ona cooed, looking up at her destroyed girlfriend, “there is nothing I love more than that.”

“Come here,” Lucy said between breaths, leaning forward to pull Ona in by the stethoscope hanging round her neck, pulling her into a searing kiss.

Tongues exploring each other’s mouths as Lucy tasted herself.

Without needing to detach herself, Lucy used her strength to turn both girl’s onto their sides.

After days of barely moving, she clearly still had a lot of energy to use up.

The Spaniard, seeing Lucy could take even more, slipped her hand back down between Lucy’s legs, brushing over her tender entrance before easily pushing two fingers inside her.

But Lucy was determined to touch Ona now, not wanting this to be all about herself.

She mirrored Ona’s movements, drifting her hand under the nurse’s skirt where there was no barrier stopping her gliding her fingers between Ona’s folds.

Catching the Spaniard totally by surprise, both girls moaned in unison as Lucy followed in entering Ona, starting slower with just the one finger but both girls knuckles deep.

“Fuck Lucy!” Ona screamed out, struggling to focus on fucking Lucy while there were now two strong fingers pumping in and out of her, but she was nothing if not determined.

They copied everything each other did, while staring deep into each others eyes.

As Lucy curved her fingers to hit Ona’s G spot, the younger girl did the same.

As Ona brushed her thumb around Lucy’s clit, the English girl did the same.

Watching each other’s blissed out face made everything 10 times more intense, every moan 10 times deeper and their approach towards their peaks 10 times faster.

“Oh my god,” Ona moaned, feeling things she’d never felt before from the dual rush of fucking Lucy while being fucked. She was struggling to keep up the pace of her pumping while hurtling towards her own peak after being so worked up from the squirt show, “I can’t.”

“It’s ok. I’ve got you bonita,” Lucy said, more than happy to help Ona first, but neither girl was going to slow down.

“I love you,” Lucy let out, managing somehow to say it softly despite the cacophony of moans escaping both their mouths.

“I love you too,” Ona said, not quite as gently as both girls crashed through their ceilings, orgasms taking over at the exact same time.

They panted, both exhausted, with the come down accompanied by soft kisses and whimpers, before they slowly removed their hands.

Still facing each other, they both just lay there gazing at each other. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, neither girl knew as they got completely lost in each others eyes.

“You said that in the hospital, you know?” Ona said softly, not breaking eye contact.

“Said what?”

“That you loved me,” Ona revealed, “when you were drugged up after the surgery.”

Lucy went red in the cheeks, obviously having zero recollection of that conversation. Now thinking of anything else embarrassing she might have said or done.

Ona could see the concern in her eyes, “don’t worry. It was very sweet. You are very sweet.”

The older girl leaned in to kiss her softly, eye contact breaking temporarily as they closed fluttered closed.

“Although you did say it to Stani straight after which kind of killed it slightly.”

Both girls broke into laughter, still perfectly in sync.

“Oh god, was she there? That would explain all the heart and vomit emojis she keeps sending me.”

Ona traced Lucy’s wide smile with her thumb.

“I love this smile.”

Lucy brought a hand up to do the same.

“Not as much as I love this smile, and this nose, and these eyes, and this chin,” the older girl said, brushing her digits over each part of Ona’s face as she declared her love for it.

As they went back to gazing at each other, before their staring competition was interrupted by a vibration, prompting both girls to peer over to Lucy’s phone, all lit up.

Lucy S - 🤮 💚

“It’s like she can hear us,” Ona said, turning around and pushing her back up into Lucy’s front, melting into the warmth of the girl she loved.

///

[nolan-chance-fortnite]

HOTTEST GUYS ON THE ISLAND - TIER LIST

I think everyone is here! Forgive me if I missed someone!! If I did... Probably you're not handsome enough (?) or you are!

TIER 1: NOLAN CHANCE TIER

Nolan Chance: The one and only! Ladies, please, contain your orga$ms, I'm here and I have something for everyone!! OH BOY! OH YEAH BABY I'M COMING (To change your life, lady!)

TIER 2: DILFS (if i were a girl)

White haired guy: Just because reminds me of me in my tactical suit. Otherwise he'd be after BL.

Montague: God he's HOT. I want him to speak french to me while he stuffs me little ol' pockets with diamonds!

King Midas/Midas: A tie. A respectful tie. You guys are good looking, I admire you King Midas, Regular Midas (but not as regular as us human beings)

Dirty Jones: Stinky, I wish i had your stubble... between my le—

Lorenzo: Very handsome young boy! Man, you and I are someone's twink dream team

TIER 3: Handsome guys please dont break my bones

Doctor: I think I'd like to hug him, I think he could fix me

Persephone: Persephone (love your eyes)

Drift: Man, give me your arms routine! You're ripped!

Captain Jones: DAMN BOY LOOK AT THAT ASS

Wrecker: Move your butt and wreck this d—

Ezio: Man, show your face a bit more! Love your beard

Rust: He's gonna hit me if i put him lower

Raz: My man needs therapy but keep doing what you're doing with that hair!

Raptor: Just he right amount of face shown!

Lord Hades: Lord Hades I love you and I adore you and I respect you but... you scare me a LOT

Chuggus: Healty! I'm not into you, but I'd like you to be into ME (as shield potion of course)

BL: Yeah boy I sure love BL!

TIER 4: Ehhhh confusing

Oscar: Scary cat, fancy pet. I wish I could take him pictures with outfits to upload it to my social network accounts

Motorcycle guy: Scary guy

Cerberus: Scary underworld dog

????: What is that thing?

Pink Guy: Your balloon face creeps me out a bit but keep spreading love! This island is missing SO MUCH LOVE!

Banana beard man: ?????? But I think Banana beard man is a Banana beard They. if so, sorry for that, they fellow!

Wasteland Dummy: I liked you better when you were regular dummy

Pea bois: The third one looks like he wants to kiss me. Sorry boys, you need two more bodies to qualify as hot. Keep up the good work with cars tho!

TIER 5: I wanna puke

Bucket man: Old man, ew

Robot: Cold, I don'tlike cold

Fire skull: Way too hot to handle

Skull Trooper: Fucj that guy, score a goal and we'll see if you get higher

Paxton Price: FOR REAL FUCJ THAT GUY

Mega London: Your 7 foot long thing is not enough to make you equal a fraction of my rizz

Pd: Nolan Chance is not gay, I just think we males and theymales should be allowed to say to each other "hey, nice muscles bro" in the same way girls compliment each other. Let's go bros! Yeah, football!

[loulouwrites]

THE NIGHT WATCH . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's eldest son is sick - he won't leave his bedside. warnings: illness, swearing, thoughts surrounding the death of a child, melancholy, unedited, angst, violence, discussions regarding the death of a child word count: 1.5k a/n: a lil drabble form the home series! i'm honoured by the love people have for this family. i know i'm not the most active on here but i just wanna say if anybody wants to talk to me (about anything) don't hesitate to hit me up! (i am still putting my taglist together but I completely forgot about it when I wrote this - forgive me pls)

It had been going around for a while now.

Some illness spreading around London that had children dropping left, right and centre.

Some children barely got a sore throat, and those that did were usually better after a few days, but he had heard the stories of the unlucky few, the children that had been bed bound for weeks before silently passing in their sleep.

He hadn't thought much of it at first - he found stories about other people's children mind alnumbingly boring - even the saddest accounts he had heard had barely registered in his mind.

When Benjamin had started coughing one morning, he had rolled his eyes, insisting he wouldn't get out of school that easily. His wife - who was gentler and kinder than he could ever be - had laid her hands on her son's cheeks, instructing him to go back to bed with a kiss on his forehead.

It had caused quite a tiff between the couple.

"You're too fuckin' soft," Alfie had told her, pointing an accusatory finger in her face.

"And you're too fucking hard on him," she had spat back, smacking his hand away.

She had been right, of course.

When Alfie returned home that night, the house was eerily quiet. No children greeted him at the door, even Bubbe the dog had barely looked up from her bed by the fireplace.

He had found them in the master bedroom, his wife had pulled up a chair next to the bed, and was dabbing a damp cloth on his son's forehead.

He would never forget the way Benjamin looked lying on the bed, his face pale and his hair sticking to his forehead, the wheezing breaths he took being the only sound in the room.

"I sent the children to my mum's," his wife had said, sitting with her back to him, her eyes completely focused on her little boy lying in the bed. "The doctor said it's highly contagious so they shouldn't be around him - or us."

He could tell she had been crying, her voice quiet and shaky.

Alfie didn't say anything in response, because what could he say? He stepped further in the room, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on Benjamin's limp body.

"He's fucking boiling, Alfie," she choked out a sob, "he's so hot but he won't stop fucking shivering, I don't know what to do."

Alfie watched as his wife's body shook with sobs, putting her head in her hands as he sat on the bed, silent, confused, and so very scared.

"He'll be alright," his voice held no conviction, almost as shaky as her's was. "He's a tough lad-"

"No, he isn't," she cried, lifting her head from her hands to look at her husband. "He isn't. He's sweet and gentle, he isn't tough."

"Love," Alfie shook his head, leaning forward slightly, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter anyways, it doesn't matter how tough he is - or isn't - kids have died, Alfie, they've died from this."

She stood from her seat, pacing the room as he looked on helplessly. He had seen her scared before, he had seen her sad and everything in between, but nothing compared to how she looked now. Her hair was a mess, her makeup had smudged, and there was already dark circles beginning to form underneath her damp eyes.

"Listen," Alfie rose from the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. "He's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she whispered, hanging her head.

"And you don't know he won't be," he bowed his head to meet her eyes, "but we're going to do everything we can do to help him, yeah?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

That had been hours ago.

It was almost three in the morning as Alfie sat on the chair beside the bed, a dimp lamp casting a soft glow on his son's pale face. His wife had fallen asleep on the bed next to Benjamin, and the room was silent apart from the occasional raspy breath from his son.

This was all he could do.

All he could do to help his son was to sit by his bedside and watch him breathe, watch for any sign that Benjamin was struggling, and to press the damp cloth to his face whenever a shiver broke out of his body.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

If it were any other situation, they would know what to do. If Benjamin had cut his knee when he was playing, his mother would be able to patch him up and make him feel better, if he had gotten into trouble at school, Alfie could pay the teacher's a visit to make sure it never happened again.

But this was completely in the hands of God.

Alfie wasn't a particularly religious man - not in the common sense of the word, at least. He was proud of his identity, he enjoyed the community and sense of belonging it gave him, but he fell short when it came to the believing part of his religion.

He had always thought God was something people used as a comfort in their darkest times, or as an excuse for things not working out the way they had wanted it to, it was never particularly real to him. Yet, as he sat at his son's bedside, with nothing to offer him but a damp cloth, he found himself bowing his head, and silently praying to God that Benjamin would be okay.

He hoped this would be the first time God listened to him.

The doctor had arrived early the next morning, prodding and poking the sick child and humming to himself.

Alfie stood by the doorway with his wife, both of them shuffling slightly on the feet as they waited for the doctor to finish his assessment, their patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

The doctor sighed when he turned to face the parents, a frown on his old and battered face, his beard moving as he scrunched his mouth.

"I see no improvements," he had spoke, and Alfie had to grasp his wife by her waist when he body began to collapse, another sob racking her body.

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked, his hands still secure around his crying wife.

"It means that you should prepare for the worst."

"No, no, no, no," she whispered, her legs giving way for the second time.

"If he recovers it will be a miracle, I've seen stronger boys succumb to this illness."

Maybe it was the doctor's tone of indifference when he spoke, maybe it was the feeling of his wife's body shaking uncontrollably in his arms, maybe he was just looking for somebody to take his frustration out on, whatever possessed Alfie in that moment to let go of his wife and grab the doctor by the collar, slamming his body into the wall, was as fierce and raw as the fear gripping his heart.

"Now you listen here," Alfie growled, his face inches away from the doctor's. "My son will not die. You know how I know that?" the doctor shook his head, his face reddening in fear. "I know that because you are going to fix him. If you don't, it'll be your body they wheel out of here."

The doctor's eyes widened, and Alfie was sure he was about to start crying. "Mr Solomons, there's nothing I can do, I would if I could-"

"You will," Alfie roared, pulling the doctor back slightly only to slam him back into the wall harder. "You will find a way."

Just as Alfie pulled his arm back, his hand curled into a fist, his wife's voice called out to him.

"This won't help Benjamin, Alfie. Just stop it."

Alfie released the doctor, who gasped for breath, his face pale. He turned to his wife, his face softening. "He can't die."

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "He won't die," she muttered into his chest, "you won't let him."

It was nearing nine o'clock at night when Benjamin started to stir in the bed. His mother had yet again, fallen asleep at his side, and Alfie was sat in the uncomfortable chair by the bed.

"Dad?" He whispered, his voice weak.

"I'm here, mate," Alfie said, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm here."

"I don't feel well."

"You're not well, mate," Alfie leaned forward, placing his palm on Benjamin's forehead, which was already beginning to cool.

"I told you I wasn't just trying to get out of school," Benjamin choked out, and Alfie let out a hearty laugh, startling his wife awake.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, sitting up and cupping Benjamin's face in her hands. "Thank God."

"You might catch it, mum," Benjamin groaned when his mother bent down to pepper kisses on his face.

"Still sharp as ever, I see," Alfie muttered, the tension in his body seemingly disappearing.

"We need to ring the doctor," his wife said, and Alfie shot her an unimpressed look in response. "A different doctor," she conceded. "Though him being awake means the worst is over."

"What did I tell ya?" Alfie grinned. "Tough as nails, this one."

[calummss]

Miss | Nell Jackson

masterlist

summary: kidnapped your top priority was to make your way back home. meeting nell jackson wasn’t one

pairing : lesbian! nell jackson x wlw reader

words: 1.6k

a/n: first fic on anti depressants so if it sucks take it up with my doctor lmaoo. NOT PROOFREAD

I had a good life. Franky, nothing to complain about. I lived a life others would play dress up as and pretend. I put on the same clothes, only more expensive, and was not allowed to show flaws in my performance. However I never planned on fucking up this bad.

☆‬

The door was left unguarded. Both the men as good as dead if it weren’t for the snoring that could wake up a lion’s den. It was the first time in weeks that they had made a blunder, their ego so high they forgot how low their intelligence was.

‘Come on, Y/n. Come on!!!!’

The chair you sat in let out a squeak as you slowly lifted up your body so that you were standing, bringing your arms to your front by popping your legs through the hole.

‘This will do until now. Can’t fucking untie myself. Why? I can’t waste time on this knot, can I?’ You shook your head, pressing your lips together, lifting your foot and gently shifting your weight. You scrunched your face with every move, so tense with fear you might never leave that room like you had planned over and over in your mind. It was now or never. Your parents surely already alerted everyone. That their daughter was missing. That the heir to the throne had been taken from her castle.

Carefully you put your hand on the door handle and steadily pulled it open until the slit was big enough for you to slip through. Just as carefully as before, you pulled the door shut, breathing out as you heard the door lock. But as you turned around you stood face to face with a woman. She was dressed as a man, her big eyes capturing you as you felt your escape plan crumble.

“What are—“

“Shhh.” You quickly covered her mouth, feeling her hot breath on the back of your hand as your heart began to pound, your chest rising and falling against hers. You pulled back until you saw her eyes again and just as you were about to fall into them you retrieved your hand, bowed your head and apologised.

You raced down the stairs of the tavern, facing the floor as you made your way through the crowd of dirty men, laughing at the jokester. As you went through the door and saw the grey sky, you pondered which way led to the capital, eager to get back to your family. Choosing to go left, your feet snake in the mud. Just as you were going to take another step you heard that familiar voice again.

“Miss!”

You ignored her. Did she know who you were? Was she going to bring you back? You couldn’t risk it.

“Miss!”

You refused to turn around.

“Miss.” You felt her presence next to you as the legs of a white horse appeared next to you. “Are you going to continue to ignore me?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you heading?”

“Capital.”

“You mean London?”

You stopped in your tracks, “What other capital could I be talking about?”

“I can take you.”

“I’m sure you can .”

“London is a two month ride from here. You, Miss, are on foot.”

“I am very much aware,” you stomped ahead.”Wait a minute.” You turned around, standing face to face with her horse before looking up. “You look familiar.”

“So do you.” She fired back, her quickness of it making you unsure if she was trying to jest or if she was speaking the truth.

“I don’t.” You gave her a petty smile, her most remarkable shade of brown eyes never leaving your face as her softened eyebrows pulled together slightly.

“You look like that princess.”

“And I think you are Nell Jackson. The famous highway woman everyone’s been talking about.”

“Have you?” She asked.

“What?”

“Talked about me?” She smirked ever so slowly, her elbow resting on her knee as she leaned forward.

You cleared your throat. “Until recently I suppose I have, why?”

“Just making conversation, Princess Y/n.”

‘I am not the princess.”

“Yes you are.”

“God you are so aggravating, Nellie Jackson.” You spat at her, hoping your nastiness would let her take the hint and leave you alone, even if your journey ahead would be made easier with her help, you couldn’t risk it.

“Don’t call me Nellie.” She sat the same as she had minutes ago. Barely moving a muscle as she sat on top of the carriage that seemed to carry a few more people since you could see more than one pair of eyes glance from behind the curtains.

“Don’t call me princess.”

“Fine.”

“Fine. Good day.”

You lifted your shoes out of the mud and continued treading down the path but the faint sound of wheels and a breathing horse spied your every move. You refused to let her win. After all she was in fact a highway woman. You were a princess. A royal never gave up.

“You sure are stubborn, Y/n.”

“Fine,” you mumbled to yourself before stomping towards the carriage and onto the front seat, sitting next to Nell as she eyed you up and down with that same smirk that made you want to grab them and rip them off. “Take me to London then, Nellie Jackson.”

“As you wish, mi lady.”

☆‬

It had been around three weeks since Nell had offered to take you to London, her accent having indicated to you that she knew the place very well. You didn’t want to admit it but you grew fond of her. You caught yourself taking prolonged looks at her. Whether she was doing some heroic things or simply nothing. She had captivated you. Whenever you made dinner it was the two of you having fun whilst the others kept busy. She taught you how to shoot a gun. You could still feel her body behind you, her arms guiding yours.Her breath clashing with your neck. You stopped calling her Nellie the day you met her, she really disliked it for some reason. Occasionally you would call her Nellie to strike a playful fight that always ended with her hands on your body. Your heart was warming up to these memories. You knew you couldn’t like her but your heart wasn’t in the mood to discuss.

As you were riding through the forest the sudden sound of guns fired into the air, holding your carriage. You pulled back the curtains to see three masked men nearing themselves. Nell jumped straight into action and fought them off one by one but didn’t notice the concealed weapon from the man beside her.

“No!” You shoved her away from your body just as the bang sounded.

Then everything went silent. It was cold, wet, quiet, and so very dark.

“Y/n, wake up. Fuck.”

Nell had nothing but commands aimed at you like arrows ever since you decided to let her take you home. But this request wasn't a demand. It was a need. You had to wake up.

“Why the fuck would you do that, Y/n?” She growled with a deep rasp. “WHY?”

You could sense the shakiness of the carriage as you saw the scenery pass your eyes.

"You're not a god,” you whispered, your throat tight as you struggled to get words past your adam's apple. “I didn't want you to take that bullet just so you could protect me again.”

She stared at you with a mixture of disbelief, anger, and something else you couldn't quite make out. If you could roll your eyes at that present moment you would've. “You don't get to sacrifice yourself for me. Do you understand?”

Why was Nell allowed to let you live but not her? Nell had a purpose in this world and it just got started. Why on earth were you not allowed to die? You shook your head. You didn’t understand.

“Then let me make it clear for you,” she said, the darkness in her eyes fuming. "You would survive without me. You would move on. Her tone roughened. “I can't imagine a world where you and all of yourself doesn't exist. So if you die, you'll take me with you. Your sacrifice would mean nothing.” Her voice became quieter as tears started to pool in her eyes.

Your chest tightened as a tear escaped your eye. It was still so cold, you could feel the trembles that had taken over your body.

“I'm so cold, Nellie.” Your eyes felt like they weighed a ton each, so you closed them, an instant wave of relief washing over your barely conscious mind.

“No," Nell growled, grabbing your face with both of his hands. “Don't fucking close your eyes.”

“I’m sorry I called you Nellie,’ a breathy chuckle escaped your lips. “Nell. Nell Jackson. Nell, nell, nell…”

“It’s okay,” her hand stroked your head. You could see her red stained hands shaking as your vision began to blur. “You can call me Nellie.” She sniffed. “I like it when you call me Nellie. I only pretend to hate it because I like your laugh and sneaky jokes when you thought you were getting under my skin. Don’t die on me, Princess.”

“I feel a bit tired, Nellie.”

“No, no, no. Go faster!” She yelled.

‘Come closer,” you said, Nellie’s face inching close enough so you could kiss her. ‘In case something happens.”

‘Nothing will happen, baby. Nothing. Just stay awake, okay.”

‘Okay. I will try.”

[ludoka]

Reflecting on J&H again and how it is very easy for me to imagine reprehensible things that Hyde could have done without going to extremes. (such as homicide and sexual assault)

Sleeping with men and cross-dressing are simple things that I can imagine even a young Jekyll did. The next simplest thing to imagine is his terrible temper and impatience. I don't know but he always gave me the feeling that he was always in a hurry when he didn't have alcohol in his system.

Other things I usually imagine come from the satisfaction one can find in sadism. Or the fun there is in morbidity. Finding fascination in the tares.

Go figure:

Hyde being in a bar where a dispute breaks out. (If he provoked her with an out of place comment or accused another of putting his foot on the waiter who was bringing drinks to the corner table, causing the drink to fall on a temperamental customer... It is very debatable.) He is sitting at the bar enjoying the show when something particularly catches his attention. A man had a knife stuck in his leg. At first glance, and with the good doctor's knowledge of medicine, Hyde determines that it is not something very serious. It is something so harmless that the victim's reaction seems exaggerated, who is writhing in pain and asking for help. Hyde is moved towards the man by a habit forged from years of assisting people who needed a doctor. But before arriving, he picks up a semi-full bottle of alcohol abandoned on a table. It's a bottle of the cheapest alcohol you could get in that bar. Perfect! After all, he's not going to waste his own very expensive alcohol. Much less in one of the scumbags of London. With a smile of anticipation, he assists the wounded man in the most brutal way possible. He pulls out the knife carelessly, pours alcohol into the wound, uses a dirty piece of cloth that he tore from the victim's pants, and presses very hard on the wound. These actions were accompanied by screams and cries of pain from the victim. A symphony that sparked a feeling of bubbling fun in Hyde.

The man, with his face full of snot and tears, twists his face in a gesture filled with anger. Ready to yell at Hyde for his brutality. But the guy stops and his entire being is invaded by raw horror. It is there that the wounded man realizes that he is not being assisted by a human, but by a demon who found amusement in his agony.

Hyde finds insane satisfaction in watching the man's abrupt change of emotions. And it is even more satisfying to know that this wound, if it had been treated with delicacy and patience, could have healed well and left a small mark. But now? That thing will heal in all the wrong ways even if you run to a more qualified doctor. And leaving such an ugly mark on a stranger is very exciting. Although it would also be more entertaining to see what happens if the improvised bandage catches fire due to being soaked in alcohol.

After that incident Hyde takes on the horrible habit of "assisting" the wounded in the most barbaric way he can. From heating a thick-bladed knife to high temperatures to burn a cut that needed to be stitched. Until waiting until the last minute to help a drunk who was choking on his own vomit.

Of course, this is all under the assumption that Jekyll was cruel enough to think of all these things in the first place. How my mother once told me "Sometimes you shouldn't expect the worst from people. Not everyone is that bad." After all, Hyde is a certified jerk but being "evil personified" is more the prejudices of Jekyll and the high society. So if it really is, it is debatable.

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

🔎🐝 This is a master post of my Sherlock Holmes fanfiction which you can also find on Ao3! 🐝🔎

For details and warnings, follow the links to AO3, it's included in tags there.

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

The Absolute Truth of the Matter

On the way to Rosenlaui, Holmes falls behind to face Moriarty alone. When it is instead Watson who encounters the Professor at the Reichenbach Falls, events take an unexpected turn.

Or: Watson does a few ridiculously courageous things and there is a crack in Holmes's lens.

The Case of the Lost Cat

Annie hesitated, nervously turning the apple in her hands, lowering her gaze. “I must tell you first,” she mumbled, “that I can’t pay your fee, Mr Holmes, b-but I can help in the garden, or –“ „Oh, but lost animal cases are always free of charge,” Holmes said casually, folding the newspaper and throwing it onto the floor next to his armchair. He is, as I have often stated, really a rather brilliant man.

After the Great War, Holmes and Watson are living a quiet life somewhere in Sussex. The days of great detective work lie in the past, but when a distressed young client asks them for help with finding her lost cat, Holmes and Watson have to solve a case that might turn out to be just beyond their limits.

Flowery Prose

Holmes rarely read to me, and never like this.

The Return of Dr Watson

I think of myself as a practical woman. I am proud to say that I have always been able to manage my household in the most efficient manner, purchasing only what is of good quality without requiring any unnecessary expenses. I have one possession, however, that is an exception to that rule. This is the story of how not only one but two of my tenants returned to Baker Street, and how I came to own one of London’s finest tea services as a result.

Mr Holmes returns. Dr Watson leaves. Mrs Hudson realises that London’s greatest detective might require a little assistance with winning the good doctor back.

The Adventures of the Amorous Amateur

Five times Sherlock Holmes is bad in bed and one time Watson is too.

The Heart's Desire

In which Watson learns how to make love to Sherlock Holmes.

The Adventure of the Lost Footing

“You have been in this particular mood for months,” Holmes stated. “You are in pain, but worse than that, you feel useless. You would clearly be more comfortable – and productive – away from London. Therefore, it seems a permanent relocation is in order.”

When Watson is no longer able to keep step with Sherlock Holmes, he expects to be left behind. As it turns out, Holmes has already devised a plan.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024,#20 do-over

Apparently there will be another AU happening. No beds but tats.

A Tattoo Shop AU.

I've no idea where this will go so I'll surprise us all. LOL

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White Pony Tattoo - Part One (do-over)

Dr John Watson stood in front of 221 Baker Street and – for the first time in a very long time – felt anxious.

He was wondering why this actually happened to him right now. The London afternoon was mild and sunny, summer was about to begin and yet, an aura of foreboding seemed to hover around the well-kept Victorian building.

John shook himself mentally. This was completely ridiculous. There was nothing to be afraid of. There was no danger.

For God’s sake, he had fought for Queen and Country in Afghanistan, had saved several lives and countless limbs in the field hospital and also on the battlefield under heavy fire. He had not felt anxious then. Wary, yes. Cautious, of course. High on adrenaline, surely.

He had been shot in the shoulder while he was on a scouting mission with his team and had woken up in his own field hospital. When his fellow army doctor had disclosed to John in blunt medical terms that he might lose his arm, then John had been frightened.

After a long rehab process the arm was functioning again but John had been honourably discharged because of an intermittant tremor in his hand that made him unsuitable to work as a field surgeon.

Two years ago, John had returned to London and after struggling for three months he had found work as a physician in a local clinic. He had soon met a wonderful nurse named Mary Morstan, fell in love with her and they had married quickly.

Which brought John back to the reason why he was standing in the middle of the pavement in front of 221 Baker Street, staring at the tattoo shop like a village idiot.

The tattoo on his right upper arm needed a do-over.

“White Pony Tattoo” was not what John had expected. It was located in a small shop with a red awning above its single window. There were no flashing neon signs or colourful and enlarged pictures of tattoo designs the artist had created. No advertising of the shop’s services whatsoever. Everything was clinical and sterile, even off-putting. Had it not been for the single metal sign placed in the middle of the window, no one would have thought a tattoo shop would be behind it.

Maybe it was the sign that made John feel so anxious.

It read “White Pony Tattoo” and showed a stylized white running pony on its right side. On the left the sign read “no arguing, no crying, no boring designs”. This did not bode well. Just by the look of it, John would never have thought about setting a foot in there.

Yet, John had done his fair share of internet research to find the best tattoo shops in London because he really did not want some would-be tattoo artist botch up his skin.

White Pony Tattoo had topped several lists. The only shortcoming that people regularly mentioned was that the artist was capricious. The lesser polite said that he was a total dick. However, Sherlock’s – John assumed it was a pen name -artistry was highly acclaimed and he had won several competitions over the last years. Getting an appointment was difficult and being accepted as a client was even more so. But sometimes, when Sherlock was interested enough, he accepted walk-ins.

John straightened his back, raised his chin, took a deep breath and opened the door of the tattoo shop. A melodious door bell chimed and announced his presence.

IIt was cool and dim inside the shop and it smelled faintly of a fresh lemon fragrance. A thick purple curtain behind the wooden counter closed off the rearmost part of the shop. Quiet classical violin music played in the background.

“Hello?” John called out, taking off his jumper to let his tattoo show. “Is there anybody here?”

The curtain moved and a man stepped up to the counter. It was easy to recognize Sherlock from the few pictures John had seen on the internet.

“Hello, I’m here for a do-over…” John began.

“Shut up.” Sherlock commanded. His baritone voice was silky and opulent just like the luscious black curls that framed his aristocratic and unusual face.

John was so surprised that he closed his mouth with an audible plop.

Sherlock’s eyes roamed over John’s face and upper arms, then the rest of his body. Piercing blue grey eyes took in every detail, precise like an x-ray machine or better, like a computer tomograph. They missed nothing, pinning John to the spot and stripping him down to his very bones, unable to hide anything. It was uncanny. Disconcerting.

“Firstly, it’s called a cover-up, as you should very well know.”

Sherlock chided, frowning. His voice rumbled like the high-end engine of a race car and filled John with an unknown desire.

“Secondly, I’ve already deduced what you want. I won’t do it because it’s boring.”

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The one(s) who know and tell me where the shop's name comes from will get a cameo in this AU (nothing bad, I promise). Are you game?

tagging @peageetibbs @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @raina-at

[xximpressions]

The Duchess (11)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: Shock

Word Count: 1,100

A/N: For those of you who need a boost :)

Bridgerton Masterlist

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Following some more much needed rest after your wondrous conversation with the Viscount, your body’s healing continued to progress in the way the doctor had said. By the time the next morning came around, you were recovered enough to make a celebrated appearance at breakfast.

Upon stepping foot into the dining room, the surprised cheers and sighs of relief welcomed you to the table.

But before you could take a seat, the youngest Bridgerton shot out of hers in order to wrap her arms around you in a generous hug.

“Duchess! I am so glad that you are alright!”

Smiling to yourself at such a kind reception, you returned the girl’s embrace before graciously saying to her and the rest of the room alike,

“As am I, Miss Hyacinth.”

Lady Bridgerton, after also allowing her eyes and mother’s heart a moment to be reassured of your happy recovery, made sure to direct her daughter to let go of you so that you both could have a seat at the dining table.

But her eyes were not the only ones to catch how, as you approached your usual chair, Anthony rushed out of his in order to assist you in sitting down.

Because you made sure to send him a grateful smile after he did so, you missed how the rest of the Bridgertons and Bassets that were present sent and shared secretive smiles amongst themselves once they witnessed such a display.

From that breakfast onward, you contently continued regaining your strength. And by the end of the week, you were well enough to travel back to London along with everyone else who had retired to the Duke’s country estate.

Wishing to show your appreciation to the family that had shown you nothing but kindness, you made it a point to have individual notes sent to the two different households as soon as you arrived at and were home within your own city dwellings. Those notes invited them to a private tea party you had decided to host during your journey back.

Holding an intimate gathering such as a tea party compared to the grand soiree they had hosted for you seemed like such a small return on such a big favor.

However, you could not help telling yourself that it is was at least a start.

Due to your attention to detail, your stride was a little less than measured as you walked from the variety of light dishes that were being served, to adjusting the cushions laid on the couch, and then to your own pacing back and forth as you waited for them on the day of.

Though you were aware of your duties as a Duchess to host gatherings, the required year spent mourning your late husband had deprived you of any chance to do so until now.

Thankfully, when their presence was announced, the nerves you previously held almost immediately melted away at the sight of the Viscount being one of the first through the door followed by the rest of his siblings, his mother, and the Duke of Hastings.

As if no time had passed, everyone was quickly settled in and conversing amongst themselves while tea was served.

You were sitting next to and happily speaking with Anthony on one of the sofas in the drawing room while he sipped at his cup and you at yours. Once again, you almost got lost in the world he seemed to always create around you both when you were brought back to reality by the approach of a footman who held a silver tray carrying an envelope.

Bowing and holding it out to you, he waited till he was able to interrupt your conversation with the Viscount by saying,

“A letter, your Grace.”

Given the fact that you rarely received such a thing, you were unable to hide your perplexion as you accepted it and thanked the servant.

But as soon as the envelope was in your hands, your confusion turned to concern as you realized what you were holding.

Apparently, you were not the only one since Lady Bridgerton could not help asking from across the way,

“Is that her Majesty’s royal stationary?”

Holding the note a bit more reverently, you nodded your head at her question and said in reply,

“Yes, I believe so.”

Though your fingers were set to pull the ribbon that held the envelope in place, it was only after you received an encouraging nod from the man seated next to you that you were able to do so.

So focused on your task, you did not notice how a tense silence had blanketed the room as those present waited to hear whatever news you had to share.

Opening, unfolding, and quickly using your eyes to read through the letter’s contents, the atmosphere became tenser still when you announced in a grave voice.

“The Queen has summoned us all to the palace.”

With a confused and furrowed brow, the Viscount questioningly replied,

“But whatever for?”

With a thick swallow of your throat, you said,

“Someone has brought forth a challenge to my claim as Duchess, so we are all apparently summoned as witnesses to determine if the challenge holds any merit.”

As the seriousness of the situation made the silence return, you simply took in a deep breath before sighing and resignedly saying,

“We must leave at once.”

Being met with no resistance, everyone quietly rose from their seats and filed into their respective carriages that soon set off in the direction of the palace.

After reaching the meticulously manicured and decorated building, you, the Bridgertons, and the Bassets alike were all escorted to the room in which her Majesty held court and were greeted with the sight of the Queen regally sitting on her throne.

While the others joined the crowd of courtiers standing on either side of the aisle, you gracefully made your way to the front until you were at the foot of the throne and gave a respectful curtsey before rising again as the Queen began to address you.

“Duchess, you have been accused of being unsuitable for the occupation your title affords. What have you to say?”

Swallowing your nerves, you only took a moment to compose your response.

“Only this your Majesty…might I be allowed to face the one who has deemed me to be unsuitable?”

With a brief nod of her head, the Queen directed her guards to let in your accuser.

And you really wanted to be anything but surprised when you saw your former brother-in-law begin to be escorted into the throne room.

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[the-fiction-witch]

Future

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating SAD

I finished up with the usual rounds on the ward, so I headed down to the morgue for the usual Thursday afternoon. I wandered down the stairs before arriving at the small morgue room where the bodies lay ready for the afternoon. And she stood. Miss Y/n Y/l/n, stood in her sage green dress with her parasol folded in her hand. "Good Afternoon Dr Dawkins," She greeted with her usual firm smile, "Afternoon," I greeted, I shut the door with my foot and began to roll my sleeves as I headed to the body, "You remember what we were doing today?" "Of course." she smiled setting her parasol by the door and grabbing her patron which she wrapped quickly around her back in a bow and she pushed her hair back from her face, she came over and stood across the table from me, "Go on," I nodded as I handed over the blade, She smiled and set her spectacles from the chain around her neck onto her nose and she took it to begin as usual.

I paced around her as she worked only speaking up if I needed to, but I often didn't much need to anymore. She was well used to this by now, I had taken her sort of as a student I suppose. She wanted to learn and I didn't have anything better to do, she knew the rules of society meant she could never be a surgeon even if I admit I wish she could be, she was better than Sneed, better than Prof., hell with practice she could be better then me, that and she pays me, she gets an allowance from her father most of which she pays me to give her these lessons, and frankly her payments are about the only money I have coming in other then cards. She worked slowly and gracefully, never missing a beat often I only spoke to remind her of things most of which she already knew. I had to admit my eyes lingered on her hands as she worked so gracefully, on her face so poised and yet distant today, the chilly air of the morgue had somewhat been warmed by her presence.

I was… well aware of my feelings for her, but I did my best not to think of it. I am her teacher after all it wouldn't be proper talk about abuse of power, I'm a doctor, her teacher, and I'm older than her. Even if… I had felt like maybe she could have reciprocated it wasn't worth the madness if someone were to know. We chatted with each other as we often did about the business of the hospital and such like before she began humming as she was working it was a strangely… melancholic song, slow and distant as she hummed without her usual joy and spark. But even so, It's a morgue so I glared at her.

She glanced up over her spectacles, "I take it silence is preferred?" "Silence is better Miss Y/n," I remind her, "It can help you focus, and allow your hand to concentrate, the morgue is a good place for silence as it is for examination, study and where the people go when it's over." "Very well, Sorry." she answered, "it's fine. I know what you're like." "if silence is better why do the surgeons perform to a crowd shouting and drinking?" "Becuase we need to get paid." "Fair enough," she chuckled, "I am struggling a little." "With?" I asked as I came over again, "This was A Sneed patient yes?" "How'd you guess." "The general state of it." "well yes you are correct this was Sneed's doing." I chuckled, "He can be a bit heavy-handed," She rolled her eyes, "the man's a butcher. How he got a degree from the London Royal College of Medicine frankly astonishes me" she explained, "Forgive me I should not speak of the doctors as such he is your colleague" She said as she took back her words, which was very strange Y/n was the sort of girl to say things and deal with the consequences it isn't like her to be apologizing for such things, I gave her a reassuring smile and I couldn't help but laugh, "Don't worry, I share your concern over Dr Sneeds' lack of finesse. He is rather…inelegant. I often find myself wondering as well, I have been half tempted to get his degree down from his bedroom wall just to see if it's written on the back of some shipping letter," "Or written in pencil." "You dare me to go check?" "No, no. it's alright Doctor Dawkins." "You have a lot of potential you know," I told her, "I do?" "Mhm, Great potential. You study hard, you practice whenever you can, you listen to directions, and you don't have much of an ego, You tend to sell yourself short a lot of the time Miss Y/n." "I suppose, I just don't much bother." "Becuase?" "Becuase, I know I won't ever be a surgeon." "Maybe… someday." "I lack one key feature to be a fantastic surgeon." "What would that be then?" "A cock." I couldn't help but laugh, "As skilled as I may be doctor dawkins, a lady cannot be a doctor let alone a surgeon. My dreams of surgical work are merely that, Dreams."

I looked at her for a while and my heart did feel sore for her, I know this is what she wants and I know I'm just giving her false hope by teaching her but still… I didn't want her to feel like this. "Well, if you may doctor Dawkins." She said setting her blade down as she finished up, yet again I noticed her usual joy and perky smile was gone today and it began to grow heavy in my mind, "Alright, alright, back from the table Miss y/n." I told her so she stepped back and I came in to investigate her work, "Humm… Yes… yes… very good… Ummm? uhh yes. Yes very good." "Can I get a curve for the fact it was a Sneed patient?" "No, no, you know the rules I don't grade on a curve." I warn her playfully, "You can't control how someone shows up," I remind her, "I think… I shall give you a B." "a B?!" she proested, "I'll bump you up to an A- if you can sew it up to thread snip in under two minutes." I offered, She nodded so I happily moved letting her come back and prepare her needle, I grabbed my watch and let her sigh a moment "Ready? Time." I told her starting the watch, She moved as she often did gracefully and efficiently, moving the thread with ease and skill even under pressure, and she finished the last stitch and snipped the thread so I stopped my watch. "Time?" "Forty-seven seconds," I told her, and I admitted I was… proud of her, I couldn't help feeling a sense of pride for my little pupil getting so good,

She let out a sigh of relief and began to pack away she pulled her spectacles off her nose and let them hang as she started to clean off her now bloody hands, "Something you wish to say Doctor Dawkins?" she asked as she washed them, I then noticed it had been a couple of minutes of me just kinda staring at her, "Actually, yes. I was…merely going to express my respect, my admiration and approval for your work today. each time I see you I am impressed by your skill and ingenuity, your precise and swift determination, and your quick work and agility in closing the body, even in light of Dr Sneed's butchering, was extraordinary." For a moment neither of us spoke but she let a smile slip, "Thank you, Doctor Dawkins, That means a lot." "You're welcome. Enjoy your A- for this week." "Thank you, but… it is still a hollow victory," she said sounding distant and strangely wishful "How so?" I asked, "A- is good." "Yes, it is but uhh… It's hard to explain." she said, "I somewhat feel… like a weather vain on an old abandoned house." She said I looked at her questionably a little curious if this was what had been going on with her today, "Elaborate." I told her crossing my arms, "I feel like, spinning. Working endlessly hard but not moving. Spinning away putting in all this work but, there's no one in the house, no one in town, no one to see the work I do. That I'd be better off just giving in and letting one little breeze send me plumping to the earth with the rest of the decaying house." She explained, The metaphor was, heartbreaking. And I admit I understood her feelings. "I- I understand it must feel that way, for a woman wanting a career such as this to feel like you're working to not get anywhere. But that doesn't mean you not still doing good work, you're dealing with bodies in a hospital morgue yes it's not being a surgeon but you're still doing a lot of good work. Why do you feel like it's not worth it anymore?" "it certainly feels that way," she said

I couldn't help but feel for her, to see herself feeling alone and devoid of any purpose. I feel deep empathy for her struggle and her sadness, and I don't know how to express my seriousness without coming off as if I was mocking her due to our usual playfulness. I wanted to speak up but I didn't, suppose that's the story of our whole relationship in one sentence isn't it, I want to speak and words linger behind my teeth. "Still." She stiffened herself, "Mustn't sour an afternoon." I noticed her changing as she made herself stiffer and proper, more upset, and clearly feelings of despair. But I don't know how to help her and yes we may be playful but I'm her teacher I don't even know if asking such things would be appropriate or if it was if she'd even tell me. I find myself admiring her in the way that she can so easily go from melancholy to a stiff upper lip. I nod my head slightly, Y/n straightens her dress, and my eyes are drawn to it, It suits her figure well and complements her fair complexion. I can't help but feel a bit of a bubbly at the sight of her, despite knowing that we are strictly in a professional relationship as teacher and student, I can't help myself some days. My gaze travels back to Y/n's face, My attention is drawn to her face, how it has such an alluring quality to it. The curves of her cheeks and jawline catch my eye, as does her soft and delicate mouth. The light shines on her face through a nearby window, making her skin glisten in a truly mesmerizing way. I can't help but feel so smitten by her. "I uhhh I have something to tell you, Doctor Dawkins." "Oh?" I asked as her words woke me from my daydreams, "This uhhh… this will have to be our last lesson for a while," she said forcing out her words,

"Oh? your father cutting your allowance or something?" I chuckled, "No, No I uhh no," she said, I couldn't keep this up so I spoke up, "Miss Y/n. Are you… alright?" "Well, I uh…" She trailed off, "Please, I want to know if everything's alright, you've not been anywhere near your normal bubbly playful self, you seem so sad, so distant, is it something I said?" "No, No…" She began, "My father. Found out about this," My blood ran cold, I knew of her fathers… disapproval of her interest in such things, I felt angry and upset, but I felt so terrible for her. "I uhhh I'm sorry to hear that Y/n. I take it he is forbidding you from coming again?" "He is yes." "Well, we can just hope he forgets about it in a month or two, like last time." "I uhh I'm afraid not." "No?" "I'm getting married, next month Doctor Dawkins." "M-Married?" I asked immediately my heart sank to my feet, my stomach jumped to my throat I… found myself unable to give a good appropriate formal response to this, I forced myself to swallow my feelings and force a smile to my lips, "L-lovely. I uhh I do hope to be invited to the wedding. Who, uhh Who's the lucky groom them?" "I don't know." "…what?"

"My father-" "Your father arranged it?!" my anger rising, she nodded, "You're father found out about all this and is not only forbidding you from coming back but is selling you off like some mare with some arranged marriage!" Immediately I noticed how angry I had gotten so I calmed down as best I could not wanting to upset her more. I forced my frustration away, it's not like I can argue against this marriage. I simply nod my head. "He did, he is insisting on the end of our lessons, I know nothing of my new husband," she said forcing back tears, "You… don't want this do you?" she shook her head, "I do not wish to but father is insisting and… I will not be permitted to do such things once I'm married" My heart broke for her, I could hear the pain in her voice. The mere idea of being forced into marriage against her will is disgusting, and the fact that her father has so little consideration for her. However, I know that my personal feelings are irrelevant in this situation as much as I'd want them to be relevant. And yet, I cannot help but feel a profound sense of guilt for my inability to help her, as her father is clearly determined to make this marriage happen, against her wishes. I swallow my feelings of sadness, attempting to push them down to prevent myself from becoming overwhelmed with sorrow. But she broke me.

"he demanded I become a housewife, to merely cook, and clean and bear him, children…" She said and the moment she utterly those words it was the a dam burst and her eyes flooded with tears her cheeks became waterfalls, as if all the feelings she had concealed all set loose at once. I felt so angry at her father the anger boiling in my bones for him that he cares so little for his daughter, that he cared so little for what she wants that he'd strip her of all that made her who she is just to make her some boys housewife. But… I can't bear to watch her cry like this, I felt as overwhelmed with sadness as her, but I hid my tears as best I could, I felt so responsible. If I hadn't been teaching her then maybe her father would never have done this to her, Maybe I should have spoken to her father stepped in and protected her, I know I can't say anything, I can't say or do what I want to do. I wanted to go over take her in my arms, kiss her, tell her how I feel for her, comfort her and dry her every tear but… I know what would happen if anyone knew I did so, "You've told him you don't want this?" "I have begged him on my knees to stop this… But he will not. In just a few months it will be over. My whole life will be over and I will be… A bride." And I snapped, "Your father's disregard for you and his disregard for your happiness is distasteful. He does not love you. He does not care about your well-being and he treats you with a complete lack of respect. It is obvious that this marriage is a means to an end for him, a way to control and suppress you and to satisfy his egotistical desires." I said taking her hands in my own, but my words gave her little help,

"I… I would give anything to escape this" Her back hit the wall and her body slowly sunk into a pool of grief and despair, My heart shattered for my sweet y/n, I could barely contain my heartaches as I witnessed her tears I wanted to reach out and embrace her, but I knew that would be inappropriate, as she sat there she just looked so helpless, nothing like the y/n I knew no fire, no energy, no passion, no joy, just this helpless, hopeless, face of sadness to be stripped of her individuality, I felt like I needed to fight for her, for… us. to fight if I ever wanna see her again. I moved to her side sitting beside her with a decent gap between us and I supported her as much as I could without touching her or holding her even if I wanted to. slowly she runs out of tears not because she is no longer sad but purely with no more tears to cry, "you think I'd have made a good doctor?" Her heartbreaking question caught me off guard, and as I couldn't comfort her any other way, I told her the truth "Absolutely. You have a remarkable mind, and I do not doubt in my mind that you would have been an excellent doctor. Your knowledge of anatomy and physiology, your observational skills, and your ability to remain composed in high-pressure situations, are all exceptional qualities that would have made you a top-notch physician. I am sure that any medical institution would have been fortunate to have you as one of their own." She nodded sniffling her tears "You think I'd make a good housewife?"

I recoil slightly at the thought of her stuck as some housewife, "No. No, I think you would make a horrible housewife. Such a lifestyle would deprive you of your freedom, your intellect and your individuality. You are a force to be reckoned with, and the thought of you being limited to the mundane duties of the average housewife is… frankly a waste of talent." For a moment My Y/n slipped back in like I was seeing her through this forest of sadness, "I'd be more worried I can't cook" she said jokingly "Can't you?" "No. I can make soup if I have a recipe." I couldn't help but laugh to think how women pride themselves on their cooking, to think the way to a man's heart is through his stomach and she can't cook. "I don't imagine you being a very good housewife." "I'm sure something is transferable, I can sew a body, I suppose I can sew a shirt." I chuckled, "Maybe, I think you'd be better off marketing on your soup than your sewing." "Depends on the man I guess." "True, what do you know about him?" "…Only what he expects of me. to be a wife, to clean his home, to cook his meals." she explained," I have begged and pleaded with my father but he ignores me."

I turned to face her, my expression stiffening as I saw her sink further and further into hopelessness. I want to slap her father for causing her such misery. The very thought of her being forced into a marriage with a man who expects her to be obedient and subservient, a man who sees her as nothing but a thing, an object for his personal use and amusement, drives me up the wall. But I can only grit my teeth as I hear her. I want to go over to that man and give him a piece of my mind, to knock some sense into him and force him to see how terrible he is being to his daughter. "Your father is a stubborn and obstinate man, this much is clear. He has his agenda and is seemingly unwilling to listen to reason or your feelings. It is frustrating, to say the least. I know how hard you have tried to make him see your side of things, Your father is an idiot. He doesn't know what he's doing, and he has no appreciation for your potential or your intelligence. I don't know why he is so insistent on a marriage with this unknown man, but I can tell you now that such a marriage is a disaster waiting to happen. You are worth so much more than a life of servitude to this man, but I am not sure your father realizes this.” "He wants me to be a good wife, as does my husband. He wants a housewife, to cook, clean, and give him children." I shuddered to think of her having such a life, even when I did think of my feelings for y/n she was always by my side, taking her almost as my head nurse or apprentice as well as my wife, we'd share chores and cuddle in bed at night, not this life of work and baby making. "… You know what makes it worse?" "What?" She for a moment seemed the saddest he'd ever seen her, "I… I can't have children," she whispered

"That's not your fault." I rushed to comfort her, "You can't be blamed for what you can't do, if your husband doesn't like that it's his problem, not yours." I told her trying not to clench my fists with this rage inside me, "but he wants them. Already in his letter, he has asked for me to plan for many of them… My father knows if my condition says that when I have a husband it shall go away… But I know it won't, I can't have children, even if this man was kind I would disappoint him in the only way he cared for…"

I … I didn't know what to say or how to help her, she was to be sold off like some breeding cow for this sick bastard, he doesn't love her or care for her at all, yet he'd wed her in a month and take her as his own, she… she deserves so much better than this. She leant over to set her head on my shoulder and I took that as my time, I couldn't contain myself any longer, and I wrapped my arms around her to let her cradle herself into my chest, I know I shouldn't do this but I can't be expected to sit here and do nothing, she sinks into me gripping my shirt tightly tears soaked my clothes, I held her close inhaling her scent, holding her soft skin, It broke me down to see the woman I care about brought down like this. She began to shake in my arms so I felt her tighter giving her every comfort she needed, I cradled her head and rubbed her back to soothe her, I wanted to be here for her. I felt her relax into my arms a little but neither of us let go, it was clear she…needed this comfort long before today and I was a fool for not giving it earlier. "Thank you, Doctor Dawkins."

I held her tighter trying to give her everything I felt in one long embrace, how I hated her father and his treatment of her, how I didn't want this to be her future, how I wanted to be with her, how I wanted to steal her away and be her knight in shining amour away from all of this, how I'd make her my princess, my queen, how… I loved my sweet y/n. How I knew in my heart she was worth far far more than the fate she had been offered.

"I … I have truly appreciated your lessons more than you know I wish I could articulate but I am not one for words, please don't blame yourself for my pain, I have so enjoyed our time together learning and listening, if I could have it any other way I would I had hoped that perhaps… But it doesn't matter now. But thank you For everything " Ohh god damn it, you can't just say that to me and expect me not to start crying for you… I sniffled my tears and tried to hide myself away "Yes, I have also learned a great deal from these lessons of ours, you have always been a most keen and attentive student. I will be proud to know that I was a part of the journey for you even if the destination is now what you wanted." "thank you" she nodded, "I should… I should go father will be expecting me" she said gathering her things and wiping the last of the tears

she began to get up and I couldn't help but wish that I could reach out and pull her back toward me once more. I don't care what her father expects of her, I want her in my arms and I want us to just hold each other for as long as she wants. However, I knew this would not be proper, so with a heavy heart, I let her go. she went to the door and got her things giving herself an adjust, I met her by the door and almost held my breath, she came and wrapped her arms around my chest burrowing into me, but I didn't care I wrapped my arms around her as tight as I could, my heart beating out of my chest for her, I took in her softness, her sweetness, her scent, her feeling, her … everything. Holding her just felt so right, like we were two pieces of a puzzle made to fit together, I don't care if it's wrong, I don't care if it's not proper, I can't help myself, "thank you for everything, Jack…" She whispered, I may never see her again for god sake! I want to hold her as long as I can, I want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from everything in this world that may hurt her. "Goodbye -"

And I lost it, "Wait!" I held her tighter my voice faltered and broke as I spoke, "Please. Please before you go just… just let me…" "Yes?" she asked looking up at me with those sweet little eyes, I looked deeply into her eyes, feeling incredibly conflicted about what I was about to do. I know it would be inappropriate, but the desire is stronger than any other. Finally, I feel if I don't I never will, I lean down to kiss her on her forehead. She needs someone to care for here, and I have to be that for her. She has saved me many times by being there when I needed her. To think this could be My final moment with her… As I lift myself away, I feel my heart racing and my chest thudding with every beat. I see her looking at me with a look of bewilderment and surprise, and I feel incredibly guilty. This is not right, but at the same time, I need this. I need this more than I can put into words. I want to leave her with something she can treasure and something that will comfort her. And so I lean down once more, this time bringing my lips near to hers.

After all this time, all this wanting, all this needing, I finally kissed her. As her lips touch mine, all of my fears and worries and inhibitions melt away and I lean into her kiss, relishing in the sweetness. I am taken by a wave of pleasure and ecstasy that I have never known before, and I can't help but stay in this moment for as long as possible. I don't want to let her go, and so my lips remain pressed against hers for as long as she'll let me, She softly kissed back and I felt like I was swimming in an ocean of delight. We kissed for a good few seconds before I pulled back.

Both of us blushed hard in a rush of emotions after just crying and now kissing, but I loved every moment of it, every inch of her, it made me wanna kick myself for not doing it earlier, and all I wanted in the world was for her to stay in my arms and kiss me again. So… I did, I let down and kissed her again holding her even tighter she kissed back happily but with a slow sadness to it, when we pulled back the feeling of the kiss lingering on my lips made me tremble slightly, as I watched her pull away. There's an awkward pause between us, and I'm not sure what to say or do at this moment. "Did- did you mean to kiss me?" I wasn't sure how to answer her for a moment, "I- I did." "did you… want to kiss me?" "Yes. I wanted to kiss you." "Jack… please don't kiss me just because you pity me." The words stung like a knife. I don't want her to think that this is just pity and sympathy motivating me. She is much more than that. I feel like if I try to kiss her at this moment, but I want to tell her… I want to tell her everything "You're more than my student. You-…" "I'm what?" "you're More than my student. More than just an object of compassion or pity. To me, you're…" I explained trying not to cry, "To me…. you're special. More than special." "More than special?" "You're Y/n." I told her, "My y/n. at least I always wanted you to be… My Y/n." "You did?"

"I think I fell in love with you. I didn't mean to, I didn't notice at first I didn't even realize until … it was too late I was trying to fight it, I didn't want to feel anything for you. I'm your teacher, your doctor, But I don't think I can deny it any longer." "… Ohh Jack" she broke into a smile tears down her face, "I fell in love with you, after our second lesson." "You've loved me since the second lesson?" She nodded now crying joyful tears but I was right there with her, "I love you too. I've loved you for a long time, I just haven't been able to admit it to myself or you…" I told her "Wh- why couldn't you have told me this months ago… If… If you had told me before my father found out, then we… We could have married." She said, "We'd have trained and learnt together, worked together side by side, that would have been our future," Her words cut me deeply, but I can't help but recognize the truth of her words. If only I had been mature enough to speak up earlier, maybe things could have been different for the both of us. But I let my my fear get the better of me, and now the consequences of that are here to bite me in the ass, "I'm sorry. I was scared to say anything. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe…" "… I'm hardly safe now, am I? Being prepped to be sold into the arms of another." She said, "It's too late now…" "If I'd have known I-"

"Jack, believe these words more than any other, if you and told me. I'd have married you in a moment, I'd have built a life with you so happily, if I could I'd have pushed back the tide, stole the moon, purged the world for you. And if that life was an option now, I'd give my life for it" Her words filled me with such love, unable to hold back my feelings any longer the idea, of rules, society, and what other people would think I didn't care! I love her! I love her more than anything! I don't care what I have to do all I want is to be with her, to be with my Y/n. My hand began shaking, and my voice broke as I spoke "I want to marry you. Take my hand and leave everything behind. I don't care about society or what it thinks of me anymore. I want you, and only you. You are the love of my life, and I would rather die than be without you."

"as would I… But it's too late" she answered she held him in a tight hug for a moment and kissed his lips but this kiss was cold and empty, and I felt as if I had just thrown away the most perfect thing I could have wished for, "Please, don't leave. I won't let this be the end. I can make this work, we can still get married and have a life together. I can't lose you, not like this…." "Please don't make this harder than it already is," she pleaded, "I wish… our future could have been different," she gave my lips a final kiss, "Goodbye Jack." She took her things, and left the morgue I wanted to run after her! I wanted to chase her down take her in my arms and run away with her. But I stayed still with so much left unsaid and left undone, I let her go. And I left the best thing I had walked out of my life.

[viric-dreams]

Jones Has a Coffee Date

The café is nearly packed, and the wall of noise hits Jones’ ears the moment he opens the door. It’s more than the usual lunch rush—students huddled at the large tables, gesticulating wildly at their notes and each other. In one corner, a trio of tomb colonists set out a game board and a pair of dice. A couple brush passed him, wandering out into the humid London air hand-in-hand. There’s too much going on for him to keep track of; too many faces to watch for suspicious behaviour. But there’s not much that he can do about it. 

He spots the man at a circular table against the back wall, near to the kitchens. The man wiggles his fingers at him in a silly approximation of a wave. At least the bastard had the sense to pick an unobtrusive spot in this chaotic café. With a deep breath, Jones puts on his best pleasant face and wades his way through the sea of patrons. 

A few feet from the table, his foot catches against the leg of a neighbouring chair and he stumbles, arms just barely reaching out to brace against a table in time. The couple occupying it startle at his landing, cups rattling, but drinks ultimately unspilt. From the corner table, the man chuckles at this, his laughter a dry and sour thing. 

“Jonesy, you made it!” He opens his arms wide to punctuate the greeting. He’s too loud, even in such a busy place. Jones slides into the seat across from him to try to close the distance. 

“I’m glad you came,” the man says. 

Jones nods in acknowledgement. “You asked.”

You gave me no choice. 

He grins at this, and Jones feels his stomach turn. 

He’s not saying anything more, just sat there holding that ridiculous, grating expression like he has nowhere else to be today. And perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps London’s finest truly have nothing better to do than to schedule coffee dates. 

“I don’t mean to keep you from your work—”

“No, no, Jones. Don’t worry about me. Worry about you. Now, how do you take your coffee?” 

Dear Christ, he doesn't have time for this. The Kolomanian Delegation’s celebration dinner is two hours from now. They’re far too close to the hotel for comfort. Any of his “fellow countrymen” could see him here talking to a constable, and even in plainclothes, the stench of the man is potent enough to even the most dimwitted of spies.

“An espresso, please.” 

This seems to delight him.

“One of those fancy drinks? I like that about you, Jones.” 

Please be quiet. Please stop saying my name.

The constable waves over a waitress with a wild swing of his arm. 

“One coffee for me, bring sugar. And green tea for my friend here… And we’ll take something to eat too. Maybe those little cakes.” 

If he’s hoping to get a rise out of him, Jones refuses to grant him that satisfaction. His hand curls loosely around the mug, letting the warmth permeate into his palm, whilst The Smug Constable takes a too-large bite of a jellied mushroom cake. His own remains untouched on its plate. 

“These things are really good,” The Slovenly Constable says, his mouth half full of pastry. Crumbs spill out onto his jacket, “You’ve got to give them a try.”

“I’m sure they are.” His hand wraps tighter around the mug. 

The tea tastes of nothing, only heat. He’s not sure if this is the fault of the beverage or his abused taste buds, desensitised to worrying amounts of coffee and that bitter aromatic the doctor had given him. All so that he can do his job. A job he’s unsure the constable is aware of. 

For nearly two months they’ve had this back and forth—the man calls and he comes. This uncomfortable dance that’s taken place since the ominous moment he’d come into Jones’ life, claiming to know who he is, that he’d finally put two and two together after that fateful arrest on New Years Eve. But he’d be willing to look past his sin, let the cop killer be. The Forgiving Constable is a generous man, after all. Jones simply needs to do him one little favour and it’ll all be forgotten. 

And here they sit, finally in the same room. A proper meeting—no last minute being stood up this time—and getting nowhere, that favour left dangling, unspoken. Instead, he sits across from the bastard in his chair, an errant glob of jelly in his ugly beard that he won’t wipe away–why won’t he wipe his face–picking away at this cake, as if he has all the time in the world and—

“Are you enjoying the Games so far?” The way he makes it sound like such friendly small talk makes his blood boil. Like two friends having a casual chat. 

How much does he know? 

Does he suspect Jones has been acting as a double agent? Very few agents of Black are even aware, only adding to his feelings of unease in the field. Likely, the man’s just fishing. 

“I can’t say I’ve seen much of it. Been keeping to myself, mostly.”

Will he call out the blatant lie? If the man clocks it as one, he doesn’t seem to give any indication of it, polishing off the cake to take a deep swig of coffee, before picking up the one from Jones’ plate. The jam remains, stubbornly clinging to his facial hair. 

“Is that so? I’ll bet you’ve got all sorts of fun little hobbies with all of that time on your hands now. You enjoying your freedom, jailbird?”

The snarl becomes a smile before the constable has the chance to spot the expression. 

“Indeed.” Jones replies sweetly, bringing the cup to his lips. This time, he doesn’t even register the heat, outsmoked by his own slow-roiling anger. This is another dead end. The Jam-Covered Constable has no intention of making requests, it’s simply another one of his silly plays. Jones knows this game, and has had enough of it. The man’s had his fun today, let him call again if he’s serious about–

“I saw our mutual friend the other day.” The man swipes at his lip with the back of his hand, just missing that spot of jam, hanging precariously. “He asked about you, you know. ‘How’s ol’ Robert doing? You keeping an eye on him?’” He leans forward, his sour breath wafting across the table, “What do you think I should tell him?”

Tell him I’m going to claw his eyes out of his fucking skull. I’ll break his fucking fingers and push them down his throat.

“I’m doing well, thank you.”

The constable frowns at this and reaches across the table. His hand wraps around Jones’ wrist, prying it from the cup. “Are you sure about that? You look so frail. Nothing like the man I arrested on New Years. Have you been eating, Jonesy?”

He wants to leap across the table and grab him by his stupid collar, smash that smug face of his into the table until it’s nothing but pulp and mushroom jelly. Over and over again until they have to pry him off of what’s left of him. Dig his fingers into muscle and bone and–

“...should take better care of yourself. A man who lives alone can’t afford to be ill. Not when he has to keep working.”

Jones gently slides his arm free from the man’s grip. He makes no effort to hold on. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and when the constable makes no effort to continue the conversation Jones sets a few Echoes down onto the table. “I take it we’re done here, then?”

The man stares at him a moment, before leaning back in his seat. The derisive demeanour slides back onto his face.

“I’m looking forward to the next one, Jonesy. I might have a favour to ask of you then. Perhaps. But for now, be good.”

His hip clips the side of a table on his way out of the crowded café. He doesn’t even feel it.